To Camp or Not to Camp

Chris likes to camp.  Sammy likes to camp (a fact he discovered through scouting).  Sabrina could go either way on camping, but throw in some friends and she's totally game. 

Me, not so much.

Actually, that's a bit conservative.  I don't camp.  I have no desire to camp.  And I'm pretty sure if I ever did actually camp, I would not be fit for human interaction in the morning.  So I don't.  It's better for everyone this way.

Now you might say, but what about a nice cabin?  This is not what I'm talking about.  If there is a bed and climate control and a way to keep nature out, that's not camp-camping.  Tents.  This is what I mean.  No temperature regulation.  Bugs.  Dirt.  No electricity. 

No thank you.

Last weekend, Sabrina's scout troop decided to have a family campout.  It was pretty free-flowing, given the number of other weekend activities in which these ambitious girls are involved.  Come as you can, go when you want.  A 2 night extravaganza - come for the crafts, stay for the s'mores.  As you can imagine, this did not pique my interest, but it did for the other 75%.  Fine. But I drew a line in the sand.  I would come out Friday night, go home to sleep (since the site was about 20 minutes away), and come back for the daytime stuff.  After s'mores, we'd all take off for home so we'd be rested for the early Sunday business we had.  Cool?  Cool.

No.  Cold.

It has been unseasonably warm of late, even for this neck of the woods.  In fact, it's going to be 92 later this afternoon.  But Friday night?  35.  Degrees Fahrenheit.  (Note: I just spelled Fahrenheit correctly on the first try, booyah!)  Apparently, I was the sane fraction of the family because the nut cases agreed to stay the night.  In a tent.  35.

According to my friend and our troop leader, who also stayed, it got down to 27 degrees over the night.  I felt horrible for going home and not insisting all the other nutters do the same, and I lay awake all night worrying about them.  I got coffee and donuts ready as soon as I could Saturday morning and headed back.  Upon arrival, I heard the crazies wised up and headed for McDonalds instead of trying to cook breakfast over a campfire in 20 mile an hour winds.  But still, so very cold.  For us.  You Northerners keep your lips still.  We have thin blood in these parts.  We'll talk when it's 108 and your skin is melting off your face.

It was a tidge warmer, but nobody argued about going home Saturday night.

Sabrina has spent 2 days home with a cold and fever, which I blame directly on the concept of camping.  She's on the record as not even touching a tent pole unless the thermometer is above 60.  I have someone on my side now.

You Say It's Your Birthday

Well lookie here, I've got a blog. Perhaps I should write something on it...

Sometime in early January, Sabrina was home sick - sick enough to be bounced from school, but not sick enough to dampen 1 ounce of her energy - and as we willed the hours to go faster, Sabrina brought up the subject of her birthday party.  In April.  3 months away.  OK then.

That Sabrina had some very specific opinions about what her birthday party should be (skipping right over the fact that a party in and of itself could possibly be anything other than a given right) comes to no surprise to anyone who knows here, and probably anyone who has even heard of her.  In fact, she has the next several birthday parties intricately worked out in her brain, most likely until and beyond the time she becomes a legal adult.  Hey, she can have all the parties she wants, but at some point, she's going to be footing her on bill, dadgumit.  But since we're talking about a 9th birthday party, I'll let this year slide. 

She started listing off things she wanted: a bounce house (like last year), arts & crafts, a pinata, cake & ice cream, with a side of more cake, if you please.  Oh, and the theme?  Unicorn emoji rainbow cupcake, of course.  That's easy enough, right?

Since we were bored, I started tiptoeing through the internet, just to see what options were out there.  What was that bounce house rental place we used?  Oh yes, there they are.  And the house is available on the date we want?  Well, let's just sew that baby up right now.  Done.  And Oriental Trading has free shipping today?  I suppose they should sell me all the rainbow / unicorn / emoji crafts they have.  Done.   And look, here's a rainbow striped pinata in the shape of a number AND some adorable emoji paper plates on sale?  DONE.

In an hour, we were down to the cake, which Sabrina dictated to be rainbow inside, obviously, so I said I could handle that my own self when the time came.  We even wrote out the evite (we didn't send it that early, of course - that would be gauche).  Seriously, the easiest party I've ever put together.

So everything came to fruition this past Saturday, and I do believe we had a happy girl in these parts.  A large majority of the invitees accepted and showed up for sugar-fueled shenanigans.  They bounced, they crafted, they crammed cake in their gullets.  Perfect.

Until the vomit.

Oh, that's a sign of a good party, you say?  Not on my carpet it isn't.

Turns out 1 party-goer had been out sick ALL FREAKING WEEK - PROBABLY WITH THE FLU.  I didn't think she looked quite herself when she arrived, and just didn't have that "I'm at a party WOOOOO!" spark going on.  She ended up sitting on the couch in my living room while the party raged (as much as a bunch of 9 year olds can rage) outside, and then the next thing I know is that she's standing up, bending over, and throwing up right on the carpet.  Didn't even make a move for the bathroom until I scurried her in there.  She then told me she didn't have any fever that morning (!!!), so it was OK for her to come.  I think health class has a few holes in it.

I knew I'd have some cleaning up to do after the festivities, but I didn't think it would involve a total disinfecting.

A moment to rant, if you please.  Who sends their very recently / probably still ill child to a bounce house birthday party?  Do you enjoy spreading germs?  Is this some kind of reverse hive immunity thing?   Have you lost your ever-livin' mind?  Why???

It feels good to get that out (along with the germs I physically scrubbed out all afternoon).  I later found out that there were at least 2 other friends with strep in recent days, and a recent case of lice.  I apparently hosted some kind of latter day pestilence party, where parents would bring their kids over to visit another kid with chicken pox so they could get that business over with.  (Before you say anything, I know there's a vaccine, and my kids have had it, and I know just how old I am, thankyouverymuch.)  I will get over it (eventually), and I will not ask the parents to pony up to have my rugs sanitized, despite my deep desire to do so.  I will be polite until it kills me. 

But all that aside, little Miss Party Planner threw herself a mighty fine soiree, and I'm glad I could be the baker and bank-roller.  I imagine we'll have Number 10 all set by next month. 

Happy Birthday, Dimples.

Birthday Shenanigans

Among the many things that made summer so busy, we took a road trip up north to visit my mom's branch of the family tree.  The visit just so happened to fall over my aunt's 80th birthday, so of course, there was a party.  Not that we needed an excuse - we would have had a party anyway.  This way, there was cake.

My aunt is a wonderful, giving, whip smart lady, but she can also be quiet and reserved, not craving attention in the slightest (in this respect, I am so much like her).  This made her the perfect complement to her sister, my grandmother, who could not possibly have done without attention.  They were the best of friends, definitely something to which we all should aspire. 

So what do you do for a behind the scenes kind of person whom you adore and want to make perfectly happy?  You hire an Elvis impersonator to serenade her and make her dance in front of 30 of her closest family and friends.  Or rather, my cousin did all this.  And kept it a complete secret from us.  Me, in particular.  Probably because I would likely have clued my aunt in at least a few minutes beforehand.  I got you, Aunty.

It was awkward, weird, crazy, and a barrel of fun for everyone, including my aunt, who said she really enjoyed the whole thing (well, maybe not that first shocking minute so much, but she came around).  We plied her with some pretty great presents anyway, so all was well.  And we ate cake for days.

Just another run of the mill, regular birthday passing by.

(How stinkin' cute is this batch of cousins?)

Shop 'Til You Drop

Today was a day I wait for all year - the annual sample sale.  The giant exhibition hall downtown is filled with vendors selling clothing, jewelry, housewares, and all manner of accessories at wholesale or less.  I love this sale.  Not only do I usually find a good portion of my Christmas gifts for family far and wide, I end up with a few goodies for my favorite self, ahem.

This year, in recent years, the sale coincided with Grandparents Day at the kids' school which meant I wouldn't be waiting outside the doors when the sale opened (I realize I am not a grandparent in this scenario, but someone has to take the pictures).  As soon as we finished the lunches and requisite book fair visits (nice dovetailing there, school), my mom and I headed out.  It was nice to have a compadre this year - I'm usually on my own, which I don't mind because I can go at my own speed - to bounce ideas off, help spot special things, and generally kibitz with the whole time. I was totally ready to check off gifts for all my nieces (7), my sister, my sister in law, and if I was lucky, my mother in law as well.  And, let's face it, to spend some quality time with my favorite jewelry seller picking out some presents for me.  I was ready to part with some cash.  Once a year, baby!

We walked the entire floor, and all I came away with was a few outfits for Sabrina from the booth I can always trust to have some cute things (although they raised their prices a bit, bummer), and a couple of necklaces from the aforementioned favorite seller (I typically bring home a good half dozen or more, depending on what I can talk myself into/out of).  Nary a Christmas gift in the bunch.  Disappointing.  Santa didn't even show up to take pictures with the shoppers, and you know he has a little time on his hands before the season really gets rolling.

However, if you need ponchos, leggings you can nearly see straight through, boot cuffs (not even full socks, come on), or anything bedazzled within an inch of its life, I can help you.  If these are examples of current trends, I'm happy to remain hopelessly out of date.

Of Sand and Shrimp

So we went on a trip.  Not a vacation per say, since given I was in charge of the safety and governing of 3 other people, all financial transactions, navigation, organization, and, well, just about everything.  So, more of a business trip.  You know, as usual.

I was toying (well, more than toying, since I was actively doing nothing to refute the opposite) with the idea of skipping a family trip this year, given the intense desire of someone in this household to replace all the windows in this place (oh my lands, so $$$$), but my travel ambivalence was somehow overridden (I still don't know how this happened), and I found myself planning a not insignificant road trip to visit some of Chris's side of the family with a few paltry weeks to spare.  My anxiety flared mightily when I realized I'd been trusting Heir Google with his day-plus-a-few-hours drive estimate when I should have realized the map mileage put it more at 2 solid, long days each each way, and once I did, noted we'd be driving as long as we'd be staying at our destination.  I wasn't sure this was a reasonable trade off.  But the chief driver (not me, ha ha, no way) wasn't daunted but this prospect, and frankly seemed really jazzed to hang with some of his blood relation (we'd traveled to/with my side in recent years), so when he said let's go, I broke out my lists & spreadsheets (yes, I'm that kind of planner) & worked the magic (magic assisted by my mother, amateur travel agent extraordinaire, but I'd like to note here that it's also magic that has rubbed off because I'm not too shabby at the travel planning myself when I'm not freaked the heck out).

Destination: Charleston.

I am the only one of our quartet that had been to the SC, and that was for the decidedly more vacation-skewing Blathering last fall.  While I was fairly certain that during that excursion I would fins like-minded individuals willing to walk around shopping and generally ogling downtown for hours, sip fancy coffee drinks, and visit historical landmarks, I was equally certain I didn't have a quorum agreeing to anything of the sort on this one.   I mean, I was the only one excited about the proposition of multiple meals of shrimp & grits.  I really didn't know how I was going to entertain the small people  for more than 4 solid days short of buying them an entire toy store.

But.

Did you know Charleston is on the coast of the United States? Did you know that includes a coastLINE?  And by which I mean beach?  I suppose I knew these things, but it didn't really connect in my mind because when I think Charleston, I think battlegrounds and plantations and seafood and biscuits and sweet tea and definitely NOT sandy tanning opportunity with wave action.  I cannot explain this.  I passed geography.

However, even with this knowledge, I had no confidence that my children would actually LIKE the beach.  These are pool kids.  Kids accustomed to chlorine and clear water and no sand to get into unfortunate places.  So I was a tad on the nervous side.  We could get there, take 10 steps across the itchy, grainy terrain, get hit with some driftwood coming on the first wave, and get slapped with a No Thank You, Ma'am right quick.  And then we'd be staring at each other for 4 days.  Or googling the nearest toy store.

What I learned on this trip: my children are complete & utter beach bums.  They adored it from the moment we set foot on the sand.  We ended up spending most of every day there with various relatives (nieces, nephews, grand nephews, assorted spouses, and even grandchildren - yes, you read that right - our family tree is decidedly kinked) walking, searching out seashells (& bringing home at least 5 pounds of them), building sandcastles, jumping waves, body surfing, boogie boarding (thanks, coastal-living family!), actual surfing (!) (& more on that in a moment), & it was incredible.  Sammy even turned down a snack - food, his dearest love - because he didn't want to take time away from the waves to wash his hands & eat.  Unprecedented.

About the surfing.  One day, the random guy came up to us, saying he'd been watching Chris & Sammy.  Not in a creepy way - he wanted to ask if Sammy would be interested in taking his surfing class.  He gave a brochure and blah blahed awhile about the lesson, saying that he guaranteed his students would be stand up surfing by the end of 1 90-minute lesson or it would be free.  My immediate (internal) reaction was, "I shall accept your challenge, Sir, and I shall win," Because I've seen my son and his gangly ways, so I was preeeety sure I'd be coming away with an invoice for $0.  (Side note: I checked & the lesson would only have cost $35, which seems like a screaming deal to me.  I expected $75 or $100).  This was in the back of my mind the next day while at dinner with my nephew-in-law (see: kinked tree), who is an avid surfer, so I told him the story.  He was joining us at the beach the next day and said he'd teach Sammy to surf.  I chuckled inwardly again and told him to give it a shot.  I expected a lot of exasperating sighing and under-breath muttering by day's end.

Um, I was wrong.  Boy caught wave.

No, he's not going to shoot the curl any time soon, but my wiggly, clumsy kid stood up on a skinny little board in the moving water and stayed put, long enough for me to snap several pictures.  Longer than his DAD (sorry, Hon, gotta speak the truth).  Sabrina chose the Cleopatra surfing option, but she had a blast boogie boarding, even when she (her words) "faceplanted".

So it all worked out.  I'm glad I front-loaded the trip with the things I wanted to do, so we all came away satisfied.  I love that the whole family was captivated by natural, free entertainment that left us happy and spent.  I'm thrilled that my vigilant sunscreen hosings kept everyone largely free of sunburn (save Chris's face, which will always turn beet red with exposure of more than 35 minutes), especially my bizarre skin that usually goes into alien mode in the presence of east coast sun (I cannot explain it, but yet it is unnatural and fairly consistent with each visit, but no longer).  And I'm happy we got to spend a pretty decent amount of time with kin we don't get to see very frequently, and even less frequently get visitors from our neck of the woods (come on, family, it's lovely over there, so get off your couches and head east I say).

Thank you to our east coast family for your time, tour guide excellence, fantastic conversation, and total embrace of my crazy kids.  Also, thanks to my Blathering ladies who reminded me of all the wonderful places we ate and wished we could have eaten (I hit up as many as I could, and am now sweating off the delicious consequences).  My only wish is that home and Charleston were just a little bit closer.  I don't mind the road trip (hey, no 3 ounce bottles!), but I wouldn't mind shaving a few hours, you know?

I'm off now to plan our next beach excursion.  Sammy needs to learn how to hang ten.

 

 

11

I wasn't tagged on this, but I'm going to use it as an opportunity to blow the dust off around here.  I mean, 1 post for this entire year when we're staring down the end of the 5th month is pretty darn sad. Let's let this serve as re-entry, shall we?  (Thanks, Jennie, for instigating this little push that I sorely needed.)

1. What is your favorite kind of cheese? I love ALL cheese. Half of my family is from Wisconsin. It's in my blood.

2. What are you excited about? For some reason, this is a tough question.  It's not that I don't have interesting and happy things happening, but I can't pinpoint anything in particular.  Maybe I'm trying too hard to find a Big Thing to mention and I don't really have any Big Things on the horizon, and that's OK.  The summer is starting to shape up (even though I don't yet have a trip planned for the family and I've got lots of eyeballs looking at me on that one, plus it's making me a little itchy), so that's pretty good.  Yes,  I'm looking forward to summer.

3. How did you celebrate your last birthday? I know I went out to lunch with my parents and my kids made me some lovely cards, but I was doing my level best to ignore my birthday, and it looks like I did a pretty good job because I remember nothing else.

4. What is on your bedside table? My alarm clock from 1998 (it says so right on the front - yay for longevity, boo for really ugly), a somewhat fancy box I keep all my manicure tools in, several books  that I own and may or may not read (but that do an excellent job of lifting up the ancient clock so I can see it over my pillows), several library books that I also may or may not read, a tablet for when I'm ignoring said books, a lamp and the telephone.  Perhaps this list will explain why I am ignoring my birthdays from now on.

5. What do you order from the movie theater concession stand? I am cheap.  I can't remember the last time I ordered from the concession stand.  But now I feel like I'm missing out.  But then again, I almost never go to the movies, and cannot, in fact, tell you the last movie I saw in the theater.  (That's not true - it was Frozen.)  Chances are I will be dragged to see X-Men 9000 or whatever it's called, so perhaps I will report back later.

6. Do you have a garden? What’s growing? It is tiny and currently consists of parsley and oregano left over from last year that by some miracle did not die.  It will soon include basil, which I bought a few days ago.

Quick story - earlier this spring, Sammy's scout troop needed to complete a gardening project, so I offered up out empty flower bed.  The boys planted 12 plants (tomatoes, basil, onions, carrot, among others).  Guess how many are living today?  Wrong - 1! At least until I check tomorrow and then you'll probably be right.

7. Any summer plans? Very good question.  I did finally find reasonably priced swim lessons not occurring with 200 other kids at the same time, so that's all set.  There's a week of vacation bible school in there.  And I just finished talking to all the teachers about what subject to work on with the kids over the break (yes, I'm that mom, but in my defense, they're those kids).  Chris desperately wants to travel, but he also wants new windows, so he's going to need to grow that money tree soon. 

I would also be more than happy to welcome any visitors (ahem).

8. Which TV couple(s) are you rooting for? Deacon and Rayna on Nashville, because he is all kinds of hot (even though I also remember him being goofy on Whose Line Is It Anyway? back in the day and my mind can't quite reconcile that). Please don't tell my husband.  I mentioning my List in passing the other day, and you'd have sworn he thought I was heading out to track a guy down that minute.  Simmer down, Husband.

9. What’s the last thing you bought? A t-shirt for Sammy that espouses my personal loyalty to Pluto as a planet.  I realize this is ironic because he'll be taught the new theory and will eventually reject my awesome shirt, but for now, I can use my son as a billboard.

10. What’s one thing you are passionate about? My kids.  I will fight tooth and nail for them.

11. What are you grateful for this week? I am grateful for the amazing school year this has been for both my kids.  They had the exact right teachers for them, and they blossomed.  And while Sabrina is lucky to have the same teacher (and class) next year, I am mourning the loss of the teachers Sammy will leave as he moves to the next grade and the very special teacher who is retiring.  We had a meeting today during which we all ended up praising and thanking each other, and it was just the best sense of right place, right time ever.  Retiring Teacher has promised to keep in touch, and is even going to send Sammy postcards from her summer road trip (you'll know when that happens because you'll hear his head explode).  And now that our "business" relationship is ended, I have no qualms making the other teachers bend to my will and be my best friends.  Maybe I'll invite them to book club (hey, book club, I have some great new people to include!).  But seriously, it has been the best year, and I'm so anxious for next year because I just can't see how it can be topped (here's hoping).

Tag, you're it.  Yes, you.

Post Halloween Post

Now that we're a week removed from Halloween, perhaps I should show everyone what my kids (well, all of us) looked like on the big day.  Here we are:

Sammy was some Star Wars character from a film not included in the original 3, so I'm not sure exactly who that is (young Obi Wan, maybe?), and Sabrina was, in her own words, a "cat girl."  When she announced her choice, I chose to believe she did not mean Catwoman, a la Michelle Pfeiffer, Halle Berry, or even Anne Hathaway, and dismissed that possibility immediately.  I searched for costumes online and when Sabrina said, "That one, " I clicked purchase.  They're pretty darn cute, I must say.

A thing or 2 about this picture.  It's become something of a tradition to take this family photo in front of our house before trick or treating, and I love that we do it.  It might be my favorite family snapshot we take all year.  Also, I am wearing my (yes) traditional Halloween shirt (OK, 1 of 2 traditional Halloween shirts, but see explanation to follow).  My sister made this shirt (shirts) many, many moons ago when she was into puffy paint and glitter, and I think she had 1, I had 1, my mom had 1, and maybe even the mail lady had 1, I don't know.  But the point is that I've saved them and I bust them out on October 31 every year, and they haven't disintegrated yet. So I will wear them until they do, even though I look moderately silly in puffy paint.  In addition, I'm wearing my special Halloween Beboppers (you may call them antennae or a headband or something else entirely, but forever they shall be Beboopers to me).  One of my rapscallion monsters broke them a few years ago, but I was able to resurrect them MacGyver style, and so they are part of my Halloween uniform, forever and ever amen.

For reference, here are past years of our Halloween tomfoolery:

 

2008

 

 2009

 2010

 2011

 2012

Get ready for Halloween 2014: the one where Julie looks exactly the same except for more wrinkles and gray hairs.

Return of the Prodigal Blogger

Well, it seems I took a hiatus for most of the summer.  Whoops.  I really didn't mean to do that.

It was a good summer.  Busy, not as organized as I'd like, but good.  Fun.  Over a little bit too soon even.  I know lots of people who were really to toss their kids out of a moving vehicle come the first day of school, but I was sad watching them walk into the building.  I got used to our more free form days, and let's face, I wasn't so jazzed about having to get up at 6 AM for the next 9 months.  But that's neither here nor there, and now that we're settling into a school time routine, I can feel the calm a regular schedule brings.  Or at least "calm."  It's a relative term around here.

Notice I said kids - plural - walking into the school building - singular.  Both kids in the same school, same hours, legit.  This is weird to me.  I mean, they've both been going to school in some form for years, but now there are no more partial weeks or shortened hours or (thank heaven) individual  locations.  I walk them both to the elementary school, hug them goodbye (how long am I going to be allowed to do that?), and watch them go off together to their school.  Theirs.  Together.  This shouldn't feel strange, but it does, at least for now. 

Perhaps it my general, constant state of anxiety feeding itself.  I'm nothing if I don't have something to worry about.

Anyway.  Two kids in school.  Crazy busy summer.  Me, slightly and continually off my rocker.

Seeing as I've been off the grid (well, not really, I suppose I just ran away from this here space for awhile), I think I shall hit the highlights from the summer.  Because everybody loves a rundown of other's people vacations, right?

• I got especially worried about the onset of 3rd grade even before 2nd grade ended, so I planned all these lessons and projects and reading times for Sammy.  Yeah, that didn't exactly work out like I wanted.  But we did get some things done and I hope it gives him a head start this year.  As much as I detest our state's reliance on standardized tests (and that's a whole nuther blog post, letmetellya), they become a fact of life this year.  And so, I fret.  (Hopefully not in front of my sweet boy, who deserves to have a great year despite his neurotic mother.)

• Both kids took swim lessons again this year.  But unlike last year, they weren't such a good time.  Sabrina developed a sudden fear of not being able to touch the bottom of the pool and spent several days screaming at the top of her lungs.  The thing is, she can swim.  She just doesn't believe it.  If she forgets herself for a minute, she's a little fish.  Maybe next year she'll be able to get out of her head and just go with it.

No fear here.

• Sammy is a tall, gangly boy who doesn't quite realize he has arms and legs that he can control.  Sammy's swim instructor was a little bit bowled over by this, given that she was trying to get him to hit goals for Level 4 when he was only in Level 3, but he had fun anyway.  He's not going to be Michael Phelps, but he isn't going to drown, so I'm putting that in the Summer: Win column.

• Speaking of Sammy (and it's usually one or the other, isn't it?), he started karate this summer.  The studio had a summer special, and Chris was really keen on Sammy trying something athletic having something to occupy his time, so we signed him up.  In the back of my mind, I figured that since Sammy's usual attention span makes a gnat look thoughtful, this wouldn't last too long and maybe not even the whole summer (anyone who saw him play soccer remembers that he never actually knew where the ball was at any given time).  But boy, was I wrong.  He went to class - willingly - almost every day he could (and sometimes twice) and practiced his moves at home.  The instructor told me Sammy was doing everything he asked of him and more.  He even tested for and earned his yellow belt.  He loves it.  He talks about earning his black belt, which he knows will take several years.  Everyone says it's good for him.  And even though he still looks to me as though his brain and his limbs have very little connection, he's trying and learning and engaging.  So it looks like we'll be sticking with this (but oh, my bank account is crying).  It just might be his thing.

• We took our somewhat annual vacation pilgrimage to visit family again this year, but we changed it up to visit friends and relatives in other parts of the country.  We started off with a bang, by which I got to meet this lovely lady and her husband: 

Internet, I know you're jealous. (Thank you, Internet, for making this possible!)

• Then we headed off to see my great uncle Larry (that makes him the kids' great great uncle, for those playing the family relation game) and his whole family at a reunion of sorts.  Long story short (too late), my kids are ready to move in.  My cousin Katie (3rd? 4th? 17th twice removed? I have no idea) has three girls ages 4 to 7 1/2 (and a 1 year old boy), and I'm fairly sure that Sabrina thought she was becoming the 4th sister.  Peas and carrots, these girls.  We had a blast at my cousin Terrie's house, where the kids had free reign over a trampoline, playhouse, and  a swimming pool, not to mention several kid-sized vehicles they (ahem, Sammy) drove all over the property.  Sammy also made fast friends with Terrie's husband Jeff (grandpa to the aforementioned girls + boy), who has been waiting patiently for years to do boy things with a grandkid (not too much longer, Jeff - you've to two grandsons growing as fast as they can).  Sammy stepped into that role quite nicely.  Plus, basements.  Oh my lands, do my kids love a basement.  I'm pretty sure they're ready to start digging right now.  Sammy even asked for a basement for his birthday.  And I can't even get into the breathtaking joy that is a riding lawnmower.  Sammy heaven!

 

• We spent another few days with the rest of the extended family after the reunion, and you're think that might be peaceful, but no.  Road trips with us are never uneventful.  So for this edition, we were treated to a tornado.  But.  For one thing, it happened in the middle of the night and we never heard it because we were sleeping in a basement.  I love me some basement - the kids come by their fascination naturally - but now I'm just about ready to start digging, too.  Also, by our standard, this was a dinky tornado.  The vast majority of damage was to trees, and it was sad to see such beautiful things twisted and cracked, but no one was killed.  No one was even hurt, as a matter of fact.  The worst was a woman who had a panic attack.  Seriously, this was the news story.  A panic attack.  Perhaps my perspective is a bit skewed, living in tornado country, but no death equals victory in my book. (Also, the nerd in me took great pride in explaining the difference between straight line winds and tornadoes to my relatives.)
 

• There was also vacation bible school, lots of swimming, playing with friends, Sammy's 9th (!) birthday, and vast amounts of food, but this is getting incredibly long so I won't go into great detail.  Suffice it to say we did not stop going (or eating) for 3 solid months.

And with that, I shall close.  Just reading all that makes me tired all over.  Are you tired, too?  You should go take a nap.  Or have a cocktail.  Or both.  You deserve it.