My cousin Eric, his wife Diana, and their darling kids Samantha, Sean and Christian have been visiting us this week. Little kid voices are so sweet, and it's fun to hear the kids describe their day at Sea World or their first trip to the beach ever.
There is something to nature. Eric and my sister, Dayna, look very similar and have some of the same facial expressions. Dayna's ten years older than Eric, and they haven't spent a lot of time together. Sam is Diana's mini-me. To me, they look almost exactly the same.
Last night, Eric made us dinner. He makes fantastic Southwest egg rolls.
The kids spent about an hour playing Indiana Jones by pushing the Swiss balls up to the top of the hill and running away as the ball rolled down after them.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
You rotten kids! Get off my lawn!!
Today has been my "crotchety old lady day".
Step one: a rant about how ridiculous I think it is that the wards in our stake have to do all of the serving for the big LDS YSA conference in a week and a half. I mean, these people can't put away their own chairs after church, or serve their own dang meals? Puh-leeze! Kids today! We're treating them like teenagers, so they're going to keep acting like teenagers.
Step two: I narc-ed on one of my children's bad language in a FB comment. You know, if you can't figure out how to set up privacy settings, then don't be surprised if your parents (birth or step) go checking up on what your friends may be looking like or saying and what you're saying to them. And if you're going to write swear words, you might as well spell them correctly. Sheesh!
Step three: Driving back to work after lunch, three skate punks decided that it would be really neato to ride all the way down Zion Avenue in the middle of the westbound lane. When I pulled up behind one, he looked at me like, "What?!" and then he pulled into the middle turning lane, between the two lanes of oncoming traffic. So did his two buddies further down the road. What the? Really now! I'm surprised that more people didn't shout at them and shake their fists in anger.
Stupid kids! Get off my lawn!
Step one: a rant about how ridiculous I think it is that the wards in our stake have to do all of the serving for the big LDS YSA conference in a week and a half. I mean, these people can't put away their own chairs after church, or serve their own dang meals? Puh-leeze! Kids today! We're treating them like teenagers, so they're going to keep acting like teenagers.
Step two: I narc-ed on one of my children's bad language in a FB comment. You know, if you can't figure out how to set up privacy settings, then don't be surprised if your parents (birth or step) go checking up on what your friends may be looking like or saying and what you're saying to them. And if you're going to write swear words, you might as well spell them correctly. Sheesh!
Step three: Driving back to work after lunch, three skate punks decided that it would be really neato to ride all the way down Zion Avenue in the middle of the westbound lane. When I pulled up behind one, he looked at me like, "What?!" and then he pulled into the middle turning lane, between the two lanes of oncoming traffic. So did his two buddies further down the road. What the? Really now! I'm surprised that more people didn't shout at them and shake their fists in anger.
Stupid kids! Get off my lawn!
Saturday, July 25, 2009
The Phrase I Wish Not To Hear For Just One Day
"I don't know."
Sigh.
We've had M with us for a couple of weeks now. Overall, he is a joy to be with. He's good-natured, not sulky, doesn't talk back. He's fairly helpful (though I haven't figured out yet that I need to be RIGHT THERE next to him while he works at a multi-step task). He's had the chance to learn how to ride a dirt bike, and he's really picking it up. He comes by any talent that way naturally.
The thing that is driving me crazy, but it's just typical for his age, is his answering almost any question with, "I don't know".
Q: What do you want for dinner?
A: I don't know.
Q: What did you learn in Sunday School today?
A: I don't know.
Q: Who's your best friend?
A: I don't know.
Q: What's 1/4 of 100?
A: I don't know.
etc.
Sigh.
Sigh.
We've had M with us for a couple of weeks now. Overall, he is a joy to be with. He's good-natured, not sulky, doesn't talk back. He's fairly helpful (though I haven't figured out yet that I need to be RIGHT THERE next to him while he works at a multi-step task). He's had the chance to learn how to ride a dirt bike, and he's really picking it up. He comes by any talent that way naturally.
The thing that is driving me crazy, but it's just typical for his age, is his answering almost any question with, "I don't know".
Q: What do you want for dinner?
A: I don't know.
Q: What did you learn in Sunday School today?
A: I don't know.
Q: Who's your best friend?
A: I don't know.
Q: What's 1/4 of 100?
A: I don't know.
etc.
Sigh.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Best ride ever, even though I fell
I had today off (yay!), so Rowdy and I decided to go on a mountain bike ride together. Our plan was to drive up to the Laguna Mountains, do the Big Laguna trail, then stop by the little town of Julian on the way home for some of their famous apple pie.
Well, we got up to the trailhead and Rowdy discovered that he forgot his front axle. (One has to remove it to mount the bike on the rack in the truckbed.) He was so mad! So, we repacked my bike, drove the hour back home, got the axle, and went to a trail in Santee.
Something in me just clicked today, because I had the most fun I've ever had on a bike ride. I rode the downhill sections without braking, only had to walk the uphills a couple of times, and just generally had a very relaxing and fun two hours.
I was having so much fun that I said a little prayer of thanksgiving that I was finally having a good time on the bike and not being such a Nervous Nellie. I actually said, "And you know, it doesn't even matter if I crash or see a snake. This is the best ride I've ever had."
You know what happens when you say something like that.... I was only about five minutes from the trailhead, when I decided to take this little jump. Rowdy had specifically requested that I do that jump on the way back, and I was feeling very proud of myself for all of the things that I had done on the ride. So, I ride up to it, do the pre-load as I get near the top, think, "Aw, I'm not going to get any air on this," and get just enough air that it mattered that I had my front tire turned when I landed.
My injuries are relatively minor: not-at-all-PJ-esque abrasions* on my right forearm, the makings of a spectacular bruise under the abrasions, a sore shoulder, and a little goose egg on my right hip. It made me cry at first, but I DID NOT cuss or throw my bike or feel like I was an idiot for falling. Believe me, that is a major step forward for me. I got up, got back on my bike, and made it back to the truck without further incident.
Waiting at home for us was the most delectable smoked salmon I have had in many a year. Ahhh! I'm having it for dinner on a baked potato. All I need is scones to make it like a Pocatello 24th of July celebration from my childhood. And for you non-Utah-Idahoites, "scones" are not the English biscuit thingies. They're deep-fried bread dough that you put butter and honey, or honey butter, or powdered sugar on. My great-grandma Chaffee was a master of scone-making.
After we cleaned up from our ride, we went to Chipotle for a post-ride steak bowl, then to Trader Joe's. Can I just say that I don't know what all the fuss is about with Trader Joe's, at least the one in Grossmont Center. When I didn't live near one, I thought that it was the shizzle to be able to shop there. But now...meh. They had a very good bread section, but that was about it.
Now it's probably naptime. Hope that everyone has pleasant plans for the Fourth! Rowdy's doing a MTB race up near Temecula. He worked on the course all week. I think that his intimate knowledge of it, plus the fact that one of the guys in his class blew a knee out last week add up to him doing very well.
*See our friend Amber's blog: http://amberlinb.blogspot.com (or follow the "Sweet Life in SD" link in the sidebar to the left), the May, 2009, archives, for pictures of her husband Paul's gnarly forearms. I don't think PJ is allowed to play with Rowdy anymore.
Well, we got up to the trailhead and Rowdy discovered that he forgot his front axle. (One has to remove it to mount the bike on the rack in the truckbed.) He was so mad! So, we repacked my bike, drove the hour back home, got the axle, and went to a trail in Santee.
Something in me just clicked today, because I had the most fun I've ever had on a bike ride. I rode the downhill sections without braking, only had to walk the uphills a couple of times, and just generally had a very relaxing and fun two hours.
I was having so much fun that I said a little prayer of thanksgiving that I was finally having a good time on the bike and not being such a Nervous Nellie. I actually said, "And you know, it doesn't even matter if I crash or see a snake. This is the best ride I've ever had."
You know what happens when you say something like that.... I was only about five minutes from the trailhead, when I decided to take this little jump. Rowdy had specifically requested that I do that jump on the way back, and I was feeling very proud of myself for all of the things that I had done on the ride. So, I ride up to it, do the pre-load as I get near the top, think, "Aw, I'm not going to get any air on this," and get just enough air that it mattered that I had my front tire turned when I landed.
My injuries are relatively minor: not-at-all-PJ-esque abrasions* on my right forearm, the makings of a spectacular bruise under the abrasions, a sore shoulder, and a little goose egg on my right hip. It made me cry at first, but I DID NOT cuss or throw my bike or feel like I was an idiot for falling. Believe me, that is a major step forward for me. I got up, got back on my bike, and made it back to the truck without further incident.
Waiting at home for us was the most delectable smoked salmon I have had in many a year. Ahhh! I'm having it for dinner on a baked potato. All I need is scones to make it like a Pocatello 24th of July celebration from my childhood. And for you non-Utah-Idahoites, "scones" are not the English biscuit thingies. They're deep-fried bread dough that you put butter and honey, or honey butter, or powdered sugar on. My great-grandma Chaffee was a master of scone-making.
After we cleaned up from our ride, we went to Chipotle for a post-ride steak bowl, then to Trader Joe's. Can I just say that I don't know what all the fuss is about with Trader Joe's, at least the one in Grossmont Center. When I didn't live near one, I thought that it was the shizzle to be able to shop there. But now...meh. They had a very good bread section, but that was about it.
Now it's probably naptime. Hope that everyone has pleasant plans for the Fourth! Rowdy's doing a MTB race up near Temecula. He worked on the course all week. I think that his intimate knowledge of it, plus the fact that one of the guys in his class blew a knee out last week add up to him doing very well.
*See our friend Amber's blog: http://amberlinb.blogspot.com (or follow the "Sweet Life in SD" link in the sidebar to the left), the May, 2009, archives, for pictures of her husband Paul's gnarly forearms. I don't think PJ is allowed to play with Rowdy anymore.
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