Back in time

This foot bridge leads back in time nearly two hundred years to La Purisima Mission as it was in the 1820's.

What you can't see from this picture is how muddy the creek below the bridge is despite all the rain we've had this year.  I found this surprising as every other waterway in the area is running like gangbusters - even the dry ones.  It's easy to see why the Missions were made of adobe bricks.  The creek bed is thick with a sucking, muddy clay.  It practically looks like bricks already. 

 

La Purisima is quite picturesque.  I expected a Mission more typical of the others I've seen here in California:  a main church with attached rooms and perhaps an outbuilding or two.  Instead, I found an entire town of sorts, complete with a Chumash Indian village.

 

I was there as a chaperon on a field trip with Ben's 4th grade class. Seeing how much of the educational stuff was outside on the grounds I am particularly glad the rain held off until the evening.  

This is the Lavanderia.  The Chumash enjoyed bathing and used this lavanderia to wash their clothes and bathe.  The kids pointed out the face with the water spout in it's mouth.  I find that a little creepy.

La Purisima was a fully functional township.  There were shops selling the wares of the weavers, potters, candle makers, and leather workers as well as a blacksmith shop and livestock production.  It was really neat to have the docents dressed in period to really bring history to life for the kids (and me!!!).

For myself, I was fascinated by the craftmanship.  Each heavy wooden door was hand made and unique as were the locks.  There is so much beauty in handmade items. 

Mostly, I reveled in the bucolic setting unmarred by modern technology.  There wasn't a tractor or truck in sight...  Here are some of my favorite views.

 

  

  

Quiet solitude.  Perfect for meditation...  

  

The main church and cemetery.  Very anti-climactic after seeing the whole property.  But still lovely.

  

Here's my artsy shot.  I loved how the bull's horns framed the outbuildings.  And the sky just seemed so dramatic.  Very wild-westy.  

  

My favorite shot...

 

Semantics

It has been a momentus week so far.  Yesterday I finally reached the end of my third year of Cancer Freedom!  That's just an awkward way of saying it's been three years since I finished treatment for Inflammatory Breast Cancer.  Today I had my Well-Check with my Oncologist and was given a Clean Bill of Health.  Bloodwork results are normal.  My overall health is normal.  I am hideously normal - probably the only one in my family that is - and couldn't be happier about it!!!

These checkup visits are becoming rather mundane these days.  Dr. Villa walks into the exam room.  We hug.  She gives me my lab results before we even sit down just to get it out of the way.  Then she asks after the kids and Daddy-O before we get on to how I've been feeling.  Ultimately, we always manage to fit in some sort of small philosophical discussion in.  Today's topic was Remission.

This word has been bothering me for quite a while now.  Every time I read WhyMommy's posts on Mothers With Cancer or Toddler Planet I cringe at the mention of her being in "remission".  I've asked WhyMommy before why it is she refers to herself that way.  Wouldn't you know it...  It's because that's what her doctor told her. 

Here is my problem with remission - it sounds like a temporary state of affairs.  Remission makes me feel like the other shoe could drop at any moment.  It feels like a close cousin to that other re word - recurrence.
So I brought up WhyMommy and her annoying status of "in remission".  Turns out I am "in remission", too!
And here I thought I was "cancer-free."  Surprise! Surprise!  And not the good kind either.

After a moment or two of discussion I realized that it all comes down to semantics.

Dr. Villa glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, head cocked to the side.  "You don't think you're cured, do you?"

Uh... not anymore...  Actually, I've never thought I was.  I've always referred to myself as Cancer-Free and didn't delve any deeper than that.  Turns out that no doctor (the "worth their salt" was implied) would ever mention cured until the 5 year mark.  Yeah.  I knew that.

So, just to be clear, here is the definition of Remission as taken straight from Dictionary.com.

Medicine/Medical.

a.	a temporary or permanent decrease or subsidence of manifestations of a disease.

b.	a period during which such a decrease or subsidence occurs: The patient's leukemia was in remission.

Note: The term remission is often used in speaking of sufferers from leukemia or other cancers whose symptoms lessen or disappear. In such a case, the disease is said to be “in remission.” The period of remission may last only briefly or may extend over several months or years.

 I still think it sounds pretty ominous to me!  But I guess I'll forgive all doctors in general - just this once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In other completely unrelated news, Ben sent his first love letter over the weekend.  Via email.  (It's the wave of the future, folks.  I hear it's really catching on!) 

He is only nine. years. old!  We're talking about a single digit age!  Sheesh!  I thought I had at least another year or two. 

At the risk of completely alienating him in the future, I am sharing his email with you because I am so touched by the damned sweetness of the whole thing.  And also the horror!

''Hay Olivia,don't tell anybody this it's a seacret'',Ok here i go ''i LOVE YOU Olivia''.

Plus, did you notice there were not boxes to check?  No question of reciprocation?  Just a lot of putting himself out there like that.  Wow! Times sure have changed since I was a kid!

Benefit or Burden

I love October.  Suddenly the bright spotlight of the media is shown on stories that normally don't rate for their lack of warm fuzziness.

Take the Welsh's from Ohio, for instance...  Both wife and husband are in their 60s and are undergoing Breast Cancer treatment.  Both. Of. Them. 

This is a subject near and dear to my heart as my boys have a significantly increased risk of developing breast cancer because I and my mother both carry the BRCA2 genetic mutation.  By significantly, I mean about 80 times that of other men!!!  This equates to about a 1 in 14 lifetime chance of breast cancer.  BRCA2 also increases the risk of other cancers: prostate, pancreatic and stomach cancers as well as melanoma.  Did they hit the genetic jackpot or what!? The BRCA2 gene DOUBLES a man's chances of developing prostate cancer and melanoma!  My boys have a 1 in 3 chance of prostate cancer before they turn 65!  All of these cancers will rear their ugly heads earlier than typical in a BRCA2 man.

I have long been an advocate of Knowledge Is Power!  It's only when we hide medical histories and facts in the dark because of embarrassment or fear that these awful diseases get the upper hand.  That being said, knowing my boys could be victims of genetic Russian Roulette, I have a decision to make.  Should I get them genetically tested?

My quandary is this:  genetic testing would arm all of us with the power of knowledge.  We could gird our sons against cancer with more frequent screenings at much younger ages.  Even enroll them in test programs aimed at prevention.  However, by equipping ourselves with this information we also make the results available to insurance companies.  If I test the boys as children in order to afford them the best possible chance at survival, do I label them with a giant red flag that will prevent them from ever getting health insurance?  Will it cause them employment issues in the future?

It's such a tight rope to walk; future benefit or burden?  What would you do?

Cross posted to Mothers With Cancer

The Accidental Victim

Or... How To Get Out Of Soccer Practice.
Or... How To Get Mom To Give Up The Good Meds.
Or... All The Fight With None Of The Fortitude.

Maybe you can come up with your own title.

I'm thinking Ben has a shining future if they ever make Injurious Diving an Olympic event. He's really quite talented in that area; a natural. (See that semi-colon... Did I use it correctly? Because I really just never know.)

Let's see, if I can recap for you...

Routine: Windmill Free Fall
Difficulty: 3 of 5
Timing: 5 minutes before brother's First Birthday party
Presentation: masonry scrapes on forearms and legs and a large 3-cornered gash under chin (complete with embedded brick shrapnel)
Location: Block wall in backyard
Cry Time: 45 minutes
Score: 7.5

Routine: Tarzan Forward Somersault Belly Flop
Difficulty: 5 of 5
Timing: First day of school
Presentation: Bruised nose and buckle fracture of the wrist
Location: Rope swing down the street
Cry Time: None, unless you count clenched teeth and welling eyes.
Score: 9

Routine: Bunk Bed Double Gainer
Difficulty: 3.5
Timing: One week after first cast came off
Presentation: Stuck the landing directly on the under-bed drawer, greenstick fracture of same wrist
Location: Sleepover at friend's house
Cry Time: 30 minutes at friend's house and entire way home
Score: 6

Routine: Triple Handlebar Hand Stand Launch
Difficulty: 4
Timing: On the way to soccer practice'
Presentation: Popped bike tire, broken pedal, ripped seat, gash in knee, jammed shoulder, bruised ribs
Location: Into large landscape rocks, over neighbor's mailbox, onto asphalt
Cry Time: 52 minutes plus every time the judges glance his way
Score: 8.5




The boy has incredible talent!!! Watch for him at the ER near you!

A Glimpse into a Boy's Life

The boys are at their VaVa's this week. That's Portuguese for Grandma. It's probably a very good thing that we're all getting a bit of space from each other because Ben has been in more trouble in the last few weeks then ever before.

Daddy-O and I have been so very disappointed in his actions. And stymied as to what to do with him. We have struggled with stomping out the unacceptable behavior with out squashing his spirit and individuality. I have no idea if we are having any success. It sure doesn't feel like it sometimes. Some days it's too hard to see the forrest for the trees.

Today I downloaded the pictures off Ben's camera. As I scrolled through them I was struck by how much is revealed by the moments one chooses to capture on film. Er, memory card. Each photo, each memory persisting through time, offers a personal view from the photographer's perspective. I was pleasantly surprised to meet the developing individual that lives in my son's body. Below are some of Ben's photos...



Behold Ben's skateboard. The first major purchase selected all on his own. Showing only his style. Also, his first foray into living beyond his means as he has to work off it's cost by helping Daddy-O.



This is Sydney, our late cat. He entered our lives when I was pregnant with Ben and has been central to our family ever since. We recently had to have him put down from cancer. It was heartbreaking for all of us. Ben chose to take many pictures of him in his last weeks. I like this one particularly well for it's unique perspective - Ben putting himself on Sydney's level.


Meet one of Ben's friends. I'm told he is "pretending to fart." This is such a quintessential "boy" picture. There were also a number of videos that went with this picture but I thought to spare you.

And here's Mr. Cool himself. Suave moves and pick-up lines are just beginning to formulate in the mists of an 8 year old boy.

Here's a photo too juicy not to post. (Sorry, Nana.) Can you sense the developing comedian?



Legend rents Nana's pasture. I'd like to think Ben saw a beautiful creature and wanted to capture his image... But something tells me it wasn't the warm glow of sunlight on Legend's hindquarters that prompted the photo...


I have no idea where this one came from but it's nice. He has a decent eye.


I can't tell you how many of these little buggers I caught as a kid. I remember them a bit bigger, though...


Taken from the window of Nana's van on the way to... Nevada... would be my guess. I love his color selection.

..... And, he's eight again!

I like this shot because he captured a teen-aged relationship perfectly. Devotion. Energy. Life.

The bunker Ben and his friend built out of left over sod in the lot next door.

Sydney and Ben

These last two are my favorites. They show great promise as a photographer. This is Sassy. I love his composition.


And this one is taken from our front yard, I think. I believe I will blow it up for the livingroom.

I have a new appreciation for the person who is my son after seeing the world from his point of view. It's almost as good as reading a diary...

The Santa Visit

Yesterday I took Danny to see Santa Claus. I've been very nervous about the whole thing. We've been warned many times about the Santa issue and blind kids. Mostly a problem arises because blind children have such powerful memories for voice recognition. They know right off that this Santa is a) not the same Santa they've met before or b) is really Uncle John. Smarty Pants kids, ruining all the Christmas fun for the adults. And, of course, there was the worry that he would sandbag us by asking Santa for something he's never talked about before which would, of course, be impossible to get at this late date. Ben did that one year by talking about a train set for months before Christmas then, overcome by the heady power of the having Santa's ear, asking for a puppy instead. (Daddy-O paled visibly and I choked on my own spit.) Thankfully, Santa admitted that puppies were not overly fond of his Toy Bag and tended to get air sick in the sleigh so wasn't there anything else he wanted??? Whew!

So, it was with some trepidation, and no small amount of priming and practice for Danny, that we ventured to the Mall for The Santa Visit.

We waited in a very small line that, much to Danny's delight, ran parallel to an escalator (that's where Brenden, his imaginary friend, lives in case you were unaware) and hid Santa from view. I asked him if he was going to sit on Santa's lap and have his picture taken. That was a definite NO GO. Danny is not a big fan of the picture taking experience. For him it's all about a bunch of sitting too still and having everyone tell him to "look up and smile. No. Not that far up..." He simply has no patience for it. So I agreed to no pictures in hopes of a favorable Santa Experience.

We finally reached the front of the line and I got my first look at Santa. Oooh, he was perfect for the role. I don't know how this Mall does it but every year they find The. Best. Santas. Our Santa was heavy set in his own right but not slovenly or obese like so many of the wannabes I've seen over the years. What I really noticed right off the bat was that the portion of his real face that I could see immediately brought to mind Santa's description from "Twas The Night Before Christmas".

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

He wasn't sitting on any sort of throne like so many Mall Santas I've seen. Instead, he was relaxed in a comfy-looking, green velvet upholstered chair. But when he spoke... oh, when he spoke I fell in love with Santa Claus all over again. His voice was deep timbred and quiet. Smooth and rich like a Hot Buttered Rum. The. Perfect. Santa. Voice.

I mouthed above Danny head that he couldn't see and his name. (Yet another blind boy perk like buying his Christmas gifts while he's there with me knowing he can't see what I'm doing.) As a result, Santa called Danny by name in that deep, buttery voice, and followed it up with a soft ho, ho, chuckle. My heart melted for my son. Danny stood directly in front of Santa's knees holding his big gloved hands with a giant smile on his face and said very clearly, "Merry Christmas, Santa!"

Thankfully, I wasn't sandbagged this year - though Santa was a bit perplexed by Danny's request. He asked for a MOON, and a MICROWAVE, and a BALLOON. Oh, and a BIG BOY BIKE WITH TWO WHEELS. Then he reached up and gave Santa the biggest, hardest hug a little boy has ever given. Every elf in the vacinity gasped out a quiet little "awww." And my heart melted all over again.

I spent the rest of the afternoon kicking myself for the no photos promise. I'm not sure the sweet image will ever leave my memory. I hope it doesn't. And I hope most of all that Danny holds that two minutes of Christmas perfection in his heart to share with his own kids someday.

A Life Sentence

If you'll remember back a bit, I posted an excerpt from Ben's Sentence Completion List. This was an assignment from Dr. Flaton, the pediatric ADD specialist. As a very special treat for you today, I will post the remainder of Ben's sentences. And perhaps a comment or two if you are very, very good readers. Just a reminder, Ben is 8 years old.

1. I would like to be a scientist.

2. My mother loves chocolate martinis. (ack! choke! cough! While technically true, this was not high on my list of things I wanted the doctor to know.)

3. I cannot have a cell phone. (This is so true. But I am considering wrist watch walkie talkies with a mile and a half range.)

4. If I only had a cell phone I'd love my Mom and Dad. (Boy! They learn early don't they? The answer is still "NO!")

5. Girls _____________________ (He had no reply to that. I find that comforting on so many levels.)

6. I am ashamed of Danny having attitude. (Note that he's not ashamed of his own behavior. This answer is totally worthy of a presidential candidate!)

7. I am afraid of nothing. (Yeah, that's what I was afraid of...)

8. I like Pokemon cards.

9. I don't like summer school.

10. I love my Mom, Dad and Danny.

11. Boys are my friends.

12. Mother should do nothing. (I am not exactly sure how to take that... but I like it.)

13. There are times when I am bored.

14. I hate bullies.

15. It makes me sad to watch a kid being bullied.

16. My home is small.

17. Father should do nothing. (again with that?)

18. People think that I am stupid. (What!? After much teeth gnashing and hand wringing it turns out there is a snotty 2nd grader that asks him things like "what is 1000 x 200?" When Ben doesn't know the answer he tells him he's stupid. Grrrrr!)

19. Sometimes I think about skateboarding and fishing and surfing.

20. Nobody knows that I have ADD. (I can't decide if it's wonderful or really sad that he doesn't get that people know he's ADD...)

21. The best thing that ever happened to me was riding a horse.

22. The worst thing that ever happened to me was breaking my wrist the first time.


So, I guess we haven't completely ruined our kid. Except for being outed about the chocolate martini addiction and the small house it's all good.

Did anyone notice what didn't make the list anywhere?????

CANCER.

That's right. No cancer anywhere.

No, "worst thing that ever happened to me was mom getting cancer..."

No, "mom should buy a wig..."

No, "afraid my mom will die..."

Just normal, every day eight-year-old boy stuff: science, surfing, cell phones and Pokemon cards. Thank you, Lord!

Cross posted to Mothers with Cancer

Imaginary friends, clinical trials and the joys of poop

I've had a bunch of things to share with you, none of which seemed worthy of a whole post in and of themselves. So today will be a Tapas Topic day, in that the subjects will be small and plentiful yet not enough to make a post.


Tapa numero uno
First there is this new site called BreastCancerTrials.Org that lets you enter your health history, then matches you up with any clinical trials you might qualify for. All for free. How cool is that? Well, not cooler than not actually having cancer... but still pretty nifty.

I entered my information. Since I am currently cancer-free, am not undergoing any treatments and do not take Herceptin or any other receptor-positive treatments (praise God for all that), I only qualify for two trials, neither of which I am interested in at the moment. The first, categorized as Supportive, was on treating vaginal dryness for women with breast cancer. Um, yeah. No thanks. The second is Preventative in nature and one I would be interested in if it were closer to me. It is on diet and exercise to prevent breast cancer or a recurrence. So interested in that. Unfortunately, the nearest research site is Houston, TX. But that doesn't mean YOU won't have better luck so go fill out your own health history and see what pops up.

Tapa numero dos
And did I tell you that Danny has an imaginary friend. Yep. It's official. Absolutely no one knows who Brenden is - ergo, he must only exist in D's imagination - unless he suddenly grew a social life I don't know about. (And how unfair would that be since I don't have one?) I guess Brenden has been hanging around in conversation for about 5 or 6 weeks now. I actually thought he was a real kid. Danny talks about him the same way he talks about everyone else, in the third person, in question format, as if he interacts with them on a daily basis. (i.e. "Does Alayna clap at the soccer game?") I just assumed Brenden was one of the boys in his new preschool class. When I finally got around to asking, turns out he's not.

I've never known anyone that actually had an imaginary friend. Intellectually I know there is nothing wrong with it but I guess I've still always thought there was just a little something off about those kids. And that's not to say there isn't something a just a little off about Danny either... However, this article I found from the Seattle Post - Intelligencer Reporter was comforting nonetheless.

Tapa numero tres
For those of you sick to death of politics, please skip this tapa. Actually, this might fall more under the confession category than anything else. I voted "yes" on Proposition 8 - the ban on gay marriage. Weeks ago, actually. And now I wish I could take back my vote. I have never had an issue with civil unions or any of the other rights or privileges that come along with such a legal status. My single objection has always been with calling a same-sex partnership a marriage. How hypocritical of me. Who am I to deny equality to any segment of society? The worst of it is that I knew it was hypocritical and discriminatory when I cast the vote. And still I did it! I voted with my emotions and not my intellect. Gah! I hope it is overturned - again.


Tapa numero quatro
I promise this one is lighter by far. We've been seeing an ADD specialist for Ben, Dr. Flaton. I really, really like working with her. She's already given me great insight into what it must be like to be ADHD... helped me see things from Ben's viewpoint. At any rate, she gave Ben a bunch of questions to answer before our next appointment. They are haaard questions. At least I thought so. I guess they could be perfectly simple also. The few that Ben completed I thought were answered very well. (spelling has been corrected because I couldn't stand it.)

1. Tomorrow I will "go to the beach and play."
2. I wish that I "was rich and famous."
3. I worry about "my little brother."
4. I hope "I will never die in a 100 years."
5. My father "is going fishing today."
6. In school I "learn about science."
7. It isn't nice to "be a bully to other kids."
8. My teacher "is nice and kind."

Tapa numero cinco
Yesterday was our last soccer obligation for the season. It was an entire tournament day. We love soccer and have had a wonderful season - even though we haven't won a single game. Well, before yesterday. We actually won the very last game of the season. 4-0. Woohoo! The boys were thrilled! Here is a picture of Ben celebrating with Coach Daddy-O.

Sweet, huh? Oh course, that's not the real story here. Danny and I sat on the sidelines the whole day. We had a great time cheering an clapping for Ben's team.

Unfortunately, Danny had an accident in his pants because the port-a-potties were so far away.

Fortunately, I had thought ahead and put him in a pull-up before we left the house.

Unfortunately, I had already removed all kid stuff from my van in preparation for Daddy-O's fishing trip so I didn't have any wipes or other pull-ups. Yikes! It was only 10 AM.

Fortunately, one of the other mom's had everything I needed. Day saved. After lunch there was another small accident before we made it to the outhouse.

Unfortunately, this time there was diarrhea involved. Ack! Still no supplies and now day-saving mom had taken her diaper bag to lunch.

Fortunately, Danny doesn't mind going commando.

Unfortunately, the diarrhea wasn't an isolated incident.

Fortunately, he was wearing very dark, thick pants and there wasn't very much of it... that second time.

Unfortunately, there was also a third time.

All I can say is that my youngest son is such a trooper. He was swooped up, rushed home, stripped, thrown in a bath, scrubbed within an inch of his life, brusquely dried & redressed then back at the soccer fields within 30 minutes. Surely a record.

Portions cross posted to Mothers With Cancer

Of Childhood Rituals...

I got Danny's pony pictures back from the preschool today. They are adorable. Is there ever a bad Pony Picture, though? Of course, I had to pull out Ben's pony pictures from when he was 3 years old. They look nothing alike.

Ben was a smiling and blond - the quintessential Good Guy. Danny is solemn and dark. Not so much the Bad Guy as the Bad Boy. The cloudiness in his eyes gives them a smoldering, smokey look... if you can overlook the one that's looking the wrong way, that is.

Ben on Nugget 2003 / Danny on Cupcake 2008

Hopalong Cassidy / Black Bart

I'm also struck by how sad Danny looks. And also, how good looking both my boys are (not that I'm biased or anything) even though they look completely different.

Am I the only Mom who sees a good picture of her kid and loves them that much more for it? Maybe I love them more in pictures than in person? I kid, of course. But they sure are quieter in photos...

I'm racking up the Cool Mom points

I neglected to mention that in the midst of my shoe crisis yesterday I found the time to capture a tarantula at work in a To Go salad container. Do I rock, or what?

Oh, the tarantula was for Ben. It's not like I was just hanging out with giant spiders for the fun of it.

We have lots of wildlife at work. Some of it is even outside the buildings. There are lots of deer, wild turkeys, bobcats, mountain lions (occasionally), squirrels by the thousands, moles, and great blue cranes that eat the moles and squirrels. (So wish I had a picture of that because it is really something to see.)

And, we have tarantulas. Tarantulas that pop really loudly if you chance to run them over with your car. In fact, the first time such a thing happened to me I thought I'd blown a tire. If you don't know much about our large arachnid friends let me tell you all of what I know. That should take about 3 sentences.

The females live in holes in the ground and live so long that spider geeks joke about making provisions in their wills for tarantula guardianship. Male tarantulas are not so fortunate in the longevity department. As with so many species, they are seemingly only around for one thing - the servicing of the women folk. Toward that end, October finds all boy-type tarantulas hitting the road in search of a sexy girl-type spiders.

Fang, as our wayward Tarantula was christened, had the misfortune to be searching for some strange on the outside wall of our office building. He's probably not the brightest in his class, I'm guessing. Bright or not, I thought Ben's class would enjoy speculating him for a day or two. So I scooped him up in the salad dish, ran home (to change my shoes) and put him in the old mouse house and dropped him off with Ben's teacher.

I think I'm the favorite Mom now.

But today we returned Fang to the wild. I'm sure he's bellied up to a Spider Bar telling Tarantula Horror Stories about his alien abduction right about now.

You can go shower now. Or whatever it is you do to get rid of the heebie-geebies.

Deja vu

Ben re-broke his wrist last night while at a sleepover at his friend's house. For those of you keeping score, he just got to take his splint off from the first broken wrist last Friday.

He and his two buddies were screwing around on the top on a bunk bed. They had been told to get down three times. Ever the good listener, Ben got down quickly... by falling from the top bunk onto one of those rolling drawers that goes under the bed. Both the drawer and his wrist came away slightly worse for wear.

Unfortunately for Ben, it is no mere buckle fracture this time around. He appears to be working his way right up the Broken Bone Scale and is the proud owner of a gen-u-ine Greenstick Fracture. That means that one side of the bone has broken and one side is bent.

This is Ben's actual xray. The yellow arrow points to the break (on the top side of his forearm) and the red arrow shows the bend on the other side of the bone. The milky white line (not pointed out by a convenient arrow) spanning the bone just above the break is the old buckle fracture which has healed.


Perhaps he will learn a lesson from this incident about listening. Yeah, right.

Because Daddy-O is a complete dork

I am irritated with Daddy-O. I went grocery shopping last night and spent, well, an ungodly amount of money, as per usual. We had discussed having BBQd chicken for dinner. But because it was already late I also bought fixin's for burgers which are so much quicker. We agreed to have BBQ Chicken the next night - tonight. I had bought two picnic (bulk) packs of drumsticks and thighs which I break down into two meals each. I marinate them before I freeze them so they are already prepped when I take them out of the freezer. Since it was late I gave Daddy-O the bulk packs of chicken to put in the garage refrigerator until I had a chance to break them down today.

At dinner time I went to grab them. They were sitting snuggly in the freezer. Still in bulk. Still unmarinated. Not ready for BBQing.

The pizza was delicious.

In order to NOT take my irritation out on my husband who was obviously not paying attention when I was speaking to him, I will instead, post evidence of his dorkiness for all the world to see. Because he also does not read my blog as my words have very little meaning to him. (I only believe this a little bit).

For your viewing pleasure:


Exhibit One:
The dork on the left is Squatter Dog and the one on the right is Daddy-O. The following pictures are from their July trip to Yosemite. Don't ask me to explain any of them because I can't even begin to...


Exhibit Two:


Exhibit Three:
I believe this would be posed...


Exhibit Four:
This is the whole crew: (r to l) Daddy-O, nameless friend, Gary, Squat, Mark. Otherwise known as The Marmots.



OK. No more dorkiness. Here are the spectacular photos taken on their trip.

Daddy-O tying his fly line.

Beautiful! Taken by Mark.


One of my favorites! Two marmots enjoying the view!


What I say to Daddy-O if he sees these pictures on the Internet!


Dragonflies!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On a completely different weekend...

This is Ben's first lake fish. He caught it completely by himself. It's a big mouth bass. It took us a while to convince Danny that his brother hadn't caught a "bat", however. Apparently, someone needs to learn to enunciate.


And that concludes our photographic presentation. Thanks for viewing.