Skiing With Grandkids

First of all a safety tip: Do not eat crackers similar in size to your camera card while preparing to insert camera card into computer. There is a high risk you may insert the camera card in your mouth and chomp down.

This afternoon we left the 45-55 mph winds in town and headed up to the cross country ski trails with Leslie and the kids. We promised Leslie it would be "calm in the trees". Let's just say it was calmER. After mistakenly putting my own skis on before trying to put skis on two girls who had never skiied before, discovering Leslie had brought two pairs of ski boots but neither matched the one pair of skis she had brought, and finally getting Pierce bundled up in the sled with Leslie forced to walk the trail, we were off.

The girls did amazingly well for their first time out. They scooted along in the track and fell much less than I expected. Myra spent a fair amount of time on her back but that was mostly because she got bored if she had to wait in the trail very long and would drop backwards for something to do. I expected some whining about how hard it was or how cold they were but nobody whined or complained and everybody seemed to have a good time. Pierce even relaxed in the sled and didn't even try to escape. Actually he didn't even move or make a noise. I think the only part of his body that moved was his big brown eyes. Well, there was the time his hat fell down over his eyes and his body slid down so far he was buried in the blanket so he was not only blind but trapped. There was some movement and noise for a few moments then.

Dean and I had gone to the gym earlier in the day figuring we wouldn't be getting much of a workout skiing with a 3 and 5-year old. Turns out picking kids up off the ground with skis twisted around their bodies, or trying to ski with them in front of you is more of a workout than we anticipated.

The sled Leslie pulled has come full circle. We used it with Leslie and Abby when they were little, then loaned it to our good friends the Kellisons who loaned it to our mutual good friends the Shannons who then returned it to us early this year. It is far from the high-tech, insulated and covered sleds they have for kids now but it works just as well and brought back all kinds of memories.

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Skiing With Grandkids

Watch Out For Future Paybacks

Abby this post is for you. If you choose to have children at some future date, I have a feeling your sister will remember that you are the person who gave her son the following toy for Christmas...


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Watch Out For Future Paybacks

Roast Birdie

We enjoyed Christmas breakfast and present opening this morning with my dad (who is here for the holiday) and Leslie, Ryan and the three kids. At one point during the morning I thought I heard the words "Nana.....Myra....hot" from Emerson. I turned to look and Myra had a finger in her mouth and they were both looking at a little Christmas candle I had lit. Thinking Myra must have stuck her finger in the candle I said, "Oh, that's hot, Myra. You don't want to touch candles. They'll burn you."



"You can touch these pretend candles because they aren't real and they won't burn you" and I proceeded to turn on my grandma's ancient pretend candles.



A bit exasperated because I misunderstood, Emerson then clearly said, "Myra put a bird in the candle." I looked inside the candle holder and little flames were shooting up from one of the little pretend birds that we wire onto the Christmas tree. Apparently Myra had stuck her fingers in the candle. She just happened to have a little birdie clutched in them at the time. I sprang into action, quickly grabbed a table knife and fished the little blaze out of the candle as both girls stood there wide-eyed. Myra, obviously well-practiced in the art of apology, immediately offered up a vocal "sorry." The little guy managed to survive with only one charred wing and may even "live" to see another day on the Christmas tree.



Merry Christmas from all of us to all of you!

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Roast Birdie

Catching Up

There are lots of other things I probably should be doing now (like preparing Christmas cards) but while I wait to usher at the annual Symphony Christmas concert I've chosen to test my memory cells.

Way back in early November we babysat the three birdies while Leslie and Ryan had a date night. As Dean was cooking gourmet weenies for all of us, Emerson and I were building a leggo tower. As the tower got higher I casually asked Emerson if she thought she would like to build real towers when she grew up. She looked at me and said, "no, I want to be a mommy." I responded by saying "I just wondered, because ever since you were really little you've always seemed to like building towers." A look of panic crossed her face and she said, "No! Please don't make me build towers. I want to be a mommy and have babies."

When Leslie and Ryan returned we were all settled in with popcorn and a "Madeleine" movie.



Also in early November we made a trip back to see Abby. During the long, boring nine hour drive it occurred to me it was Husker home game weekend so I got out the trusy cell phone and called my ticket source, Trinity. (Yes, we are no longer the only people in the world sans cell phone. I can tell you Dean was not happy to give up that distinction but daughters---one in particular---are very good at heaping guilt on mothers who absorb guilt like a sponge). To make a long story a little less long, Abby and I were able to obtain Husker tickets on one of the coldest game days of the season and watch the Huskers beat the Kansas Jayhawks. Of course since I didn't know I was going to be attending the game I was not prepared for
sitting-in-a-cold-stadium-on-a-cold-bench-with-your-feet-on-cold-cement-for-several-hours weather. Abby generously loaned me extra clothing so after donning 3 pairs of socks, tights, 3 shirts, fleece, jacket, mittens, and ear band I was ready. The best thing of all was we remembered to bring two blankets to sit on so our butts weren't frozen solid---only partially.

The bravest guy I've ever seen was a Kansas Jayhawk fan one row down and 5 people over from us. I'm guessing he was in his early 30's and was decked out in silky basketball-type shorts, blue spandex tights, blue tight long-sleeved spandex shirt with a silky basketball-like jersey over it, lots of blue mardi gras-like beads, a Kansas Jayhawk bird hat and a Superman-like cape which he continually adjusted so it was not wrinkled or hanging crooked. He was the only Jayhawk fan surrounded by a sea of blazing red Husker fans. When the Jayhawks did something good on the field he stood up all alone and swayed back and forth with his arms in the air just like all the other Jayhawk fans in the section directly across the field from us. By the end of the game he was shivering so hard that his body was in constant vibration. And I thought Nebraska fans were crazy...

While we were visiting, we toured the Nebraska Quilt Museum and saw an awesome display of Korean patchwork. (pojagi) They are gorgeous quilts made of delicate silks and each seam was sewn together with tiny whip stitches. Here's an example of one I found on-line.




My goal is to collect enough silk fabric (not so easy in the bustling metropolis of Casper) and create one myself. Traditionally they are used to wrap gifts or carry laundry but I'm thinking if I ever get one made it'll be going on the wall.

And speaking of quilting, I have finished the next two blocks of Myra's "baby" quilt--"This Little Piggy Goes To Market" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider". In the works is "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star"






Abby came home for Thanksgiving and we feasted on turkey with all the trimmings. Ryan's parents were also able to join us.



While the turkey was baking Ryan and the kids added some finishing touches to their cardboard castle and worked up an appetite by protecting the kingdom from marauding black knights.



One night Emerson and Myra spent the night and Abby had the honor of sharing a bed with them. Emerson was very conscientious about making sure Abby had enough space in the bed when she and Myra first crawled in but it would appear she's a cuddler.






The next morning Aunt Abby went to preschool with Emerson and got to share in crafts, a walk to the park and snacks before she flew back to Lincoln.






And now it's time for me to don my black usher duds for the symphony concert. It'll be a cold drive. We reached a new record last night with a low of eighteen degrees BELOW zero. About an hour ago (noon) Dean told me it was up to a whoppin' minus twelve. Winter has arrived.◦

Catching Up

Tea Party

Queen Nana of Dundee and Countess Abby of Lincolnshire recently hosted a tea party at Castle Make-Believe.






The tea was attended by Duchess Leslie de Chestnut, Princess Emerson de Cheveux Marron, and Princess Myra de Cheveux Rouge. Dress was formal and the guests arrived in their finest gowns.





The menu consisted of:

Cucumber sandwiches
Black and green olives
Kiwi and strawberries
Raspberries
A variety of cheese
Salami
Sesame and bunny cheese crackers
Carrots and tomatoes
Red peppers
Banana chips
Tea with cream and sugar
and
Delicately decorated bite-size cheesecake for dessert

Queen Nana's childhood teaset was put to good use as the royal group enjoyed the fine food and conversation. The tiny teapot was refilled multiple times in an effort to keep the tiny teacups filled with steaming tea.






All guests enjoyed a delightful afternoon of delicious food and stimulating conversation.◦

Tea Party

Is This Heaven?

Recently I was granted membership in the colonoscopy club. And as it happened I was also allowed "this one-time special opportunity" to also join the endoscopy club. I went in for the pre-procedure appointment at 9:30 a.m. thinking it would be a month or so before I came back for the real deal. "What did you have for breakfast" they said. "A bowl of cereal." "Good, we have time tomorrow, how does that work for you?" "Uhhh, okay, I guess." but I'm thinking, "damn! I don't want to do this..."

I drank the first bottle of the most nauseating, disgusting, unimaginably vile special drink at the designated hour of 6:00 p.m. that night and waited for some action. Dean had told me he thought "things" would begin to happen quickly. Either his memory of his experience from three years earlier was incorrect or my body decided to follow its own unique schedule. By 8:30 p.m. I was beginning to worry because there had been no "action". That's when I called the pharmacist at Walgreens. I wondered if I had bought the wrong drink or if I should get something else or drink another one. "Oh, no!", she said. "Don't drink anymore. I'm sure things will start happening soon." Which they did.

I slept approximately two minutes all that night because I laid awake thinking, "I have to drink the vile drink again at 5:00 a.m. I can't drink it again. I still feel sick from the first bottle. Oh, I don't want to drink the vile drink again at 5:00 a.m." Guess what I did at 5:00 a.m.

The day before my initial appt. I'd filled up on Mexican food for lunch. Consequently, I wasn't really hungry for dinner that night so I'd only had a handful of almonds and raisins. That meant, by the time I was taken back to be prepped for this procedure my last real meal had been 48 hours earlier. I barely had the energy to walk back.

Once they'd hooked me up to all their fancy beeping and blinking machines I remember waiting for the nurse to say, "okay, we're going to put you to sleep now." She did not say that. Next thing I remember another nurse is asking me if I want some apple juice. "Sure." I downed it in about 3 seconds. "More?" "Sure." I downed that one. I think I would have kept drinking apple juice as long as they handed me plastic glasses filled with it.

Then it's time to leave. I am weak, tired and I feel sick. I shuffle to the car, Dean opens the car door, I begin to crawl in and oops! leave all the apple juice on the curb. Well, not all, I also contributed to the garage floor on my walk into the house. Apparently narcotics don't agree with me so if I had any thoughts of becoming some kind of drug addict that experience cured me of it. This was not the after-procedure experience I had anticipated. I planned to come home, eat a great big meal because I would of course be starving, and then do some quilting. Instead I crawled into bed at 3:00 p.m. and stayed there until 6 a.m. the next day. When I woke up the next mornng there were crumbs stuck to me from the small, dry piece of toast I managed to eat lying down. I only hope ten years from now when I have to do this whole thing again there is a less-vile drink and I remember to tell them I don't want narcotics.

And then there was Dean. He had an endoscopy a week or so later. I wasn't particularly excited to be in the same waiting area again but being the driver is a whole lot better than being the patient.....until your passenger gets a "feel sorry for me" look on his face and says, "I'm hungry." Considering he had gone approximately 18 hours without food and in approximately 48 hours I'd had a handful of raisins and almonds, one bowl of cereal and one dried out piece of toast, I didn't have alot of sympathy to offer.

When I was called back to the recovery area, the nurse was wiping water off of the floor and Dean was sitting up, clutching glass of water in his hand, tipping and weaving it around in front of his face. His lips were puckered and his face was pushed forward as he tried to find his mouth with the straw but he could never quite do it. Then he would smile. At one point I reached for the glass to help him and he clutched the glass close to his chest protecting it, smiled another goofy smile, and would not let me touch the glass.

The first thing out of his mouth was, "I'm dead!" (big smile) A few minutes later he said, "Is this heaven?"

Once the water was cleaned up from the floor the nurse began to read her post-procedure instructions and Dean said, "Good thing I voted already today." (big smile) She agreed, opened her mouth to continue but
"I'd vote for Alf Landon..............He's dead" came from the bed.

The nurse and I looked at each other with a "what the heck is he talking about" look and she continued on, in a very loud voice, looking directly at a guy who couldn't even find his mouth with a straw and began reciting the list of dos and don'ts.

"You can't operate a motor vehicle, power tools..."
"Does that include chainsaws?" (big smile)
"Yes, that would be chainsaws or any saws. You can't take aspirin... "
"Can I have sex?" (big smile)
"Well, that's up to her but you can't do it here."

I was finally told to bring the car around to the pickup point. I parked, opened the passenger door and waited. Sat in the passenger side and waited. Closed the passenger door and waited. Finally another nurse brought him outside, got him close to the car and said, "good luck with him" just before Dean looked down at the curb and said, "That's where you threw up!"

Once we were home and Dean had his wits around him again I asked ... and in case you were wondering....Alf Landon ran against FDR.◦

Is This Heaven?

And the cookies predict ...

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And the cookies predict ...

We finally really absolutely definitely finish the tile

Monday morning bright and early two tile guys arrived to pop off the glass tiles, clean them and then put them back in their own special place on the walls. It was supposed to be completed within approximately eight hours but when I came home nine hours later my heart sunk a bit when I saw the huge tile trailer still parked outside the house.

They were very close to finishing but they both had quizzical looks on their faces and were walking around the kitchen holding up pieces of glass tile against the wall, turning the tile 45 degrees and holding it up again. I asked them how it was going and they said,"great but we can't quite figure out why we've used more tiles than you had up there to begin with, plus the three extra tiles you had and we're still one short. We had to break one tile to make a space to pop out the rest, and one tile broke as we were cutting it but there should still be one extra tile since you had three extra to begin with." Turns out they had pulled them all off and then put them in a bucket of water to soak off the mastik. I had wondered to myself ahead of time how they were going to keep track of which cut tiles went where but apparently that concern hadn't been part of their thought process. Consequently manys tile probably found a new home on the wall.

There were a couple of phone calls out on the front porch with I can only assume to be the boss and then they told me there were extra tiles at their store. That was good because I thought I was going to have to order one tile and wait two weeks to get it. They came back the next morning to put up that final tile and grout. When I came home last night everything looked awesome-------except for the fact that the switch plate for the light switch had about a 3/8 inch gap between the wall and the back of the switch plate. The plate is half in tile and half flat against the wall and they hadn't cut the tile to fit around the bottom of the switch plate.

That meant instead of being finished yesterday, I had to call with my concern and they showed up again bright and early this morning. To make a long story short, instead of repairing the light switch tile problem, I/we decided to take all those extra ceramic tiles we had too many of when our initial decorating plan didn't work and tile up to the base of the cabinets and a couple of rows up on the other walls. And believe it or not, even though I changed my whole "repair" plan in mid-stream, they had time to do it today AND were finished by the time I got home tonight.

Here's a slide show of the final really absolutely definitely finished kitchen tile.

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We finally really absolutely definitely finish the tile

Diggin' for mittens

Last Friday we hiked the trail on the mountain in shorts and long-sleeved shirts. One week later we hiked through snow to get to the car in the driveway. The good thing is cross country skiing may be possible in the not-too-distant future. The bad thing is I really wanted to hike more. The worst thing is cloudy skies, freezing temperatures and snow-covered hiking trails made it pretty much impossible for me to talk myself out of painting the trim on the new guest room window with the window well big enough to live in.






I hate painting and if the weekend weather would have been nice I'm sure I would have found another reason to postpone it. But since it wasn't, I painted. I am proud to announce that I did not spill paint or get paint on the carpet or the bottom of my feet. I did however, lose control of the brush just as I was mentally congratulating myself on avoiding those things. Fortunately it went flying into the glass on the window and dropped onto the window sill. The big splotch it left on the glass was easy to wipe off and I was painting the sill anyway so no damage was done.




My initial plan was to paint not only the window frame but also the walls in the kitchen. Our excuse for not painting all these long months has been that we didn't want to paint until it was nice outside so we could have the windows open. I realized if we didn't do something quick, that same excuse was going to add another year to the project. Wait a minute, I just realized I keep saying "we" but it's "me" that does the painting.... Hmmmm......anyway....I spent last weekend at the paint store collecting paint chips and taping them around the kitchen. That meant I had to really look at the tile again, not just glance quickly and pretend I didn't really see it. The more I looked, the worse I felt about it. The worse I felt about it the more I didn't want to paint the walls that touched it. Finally I thought, "what the hell, I'll see if there's a snowball's chance in hell somebody can fix it." Guess what? They can! And it won't even cost half what I estimated or was willing to pay. Two weeks from today we will have glass tiles that will look the way they were supposed to. And, even better Tilechick/Groutbabe---the tile guy said we did a really nice job with our spacing, grouting and overall tiling so you can be proud of your tiling skills. When you decide you've had enough of the political life I think you have a new career as a tile project manager. Wonder how long I'll be able to put off painting.......another year???

As an aside, Shadow had some "lumps" removed today. It's a good thing she doesn't know what she looks like.

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Diggin' for mittens

Feather Explosion

Yesterday I decided to wash and dry my down pillow so it would be free of all those disgusting drool spots. Yes, I admit it. My pillow had drool spots and don't any of you tell me yours doesn't now or hasn't in the past (even with a cover) because I wouldn't believe you. So, I washed the pillow, put it in the dryer with a tennis ball and it came out nice and clean and fluffy.

Good wife that I am, this morning I thought, "my laundry's pretty light this weekend, I'll wash Dean's down pillow so his is nice and clean and fluffy too." I put the pillow in the wash, came back later to throw it in the dryer and instead of a squashed lump of wet down nicely contained in pillow ticking, I found lots of squashed and wet down outside of that pillow ticking. I used to think wiping out the dog fur after washing Shadow's pillows was bad but I'm here to tell you removing wet, stinky down from your washing machine is worse. I got as much out as I could and now I'm running a rinse through. Hopefully it won't take too many until it's safe to wash clothes. I just hope Dean doesn't steal my nice clean, fluffy down pillow until I get around to getting him another. So much for good deeds.


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Feather Explosion

I Blame The Computer

Pierce and Leslie flew to Seattle with us for a weddding in early September and Abby took a weekend off from school and also met us there. We had contemplated driving to and from so Leslie could bring all the kids but fortunately we came to our senses. I don't fly very often and I always forget how noisy it is inside and how boring the wait at the airport is. We did have a thrill (or feeling of embarassment if you were Leslie) in the Casper airport. They called all 10 of the passengers to board the plane, Leslie said, "we need to go, Dad" and Dean said, "I'm not going til they make the last call. I don't want to be on the plan any longer than I have to be." Shortly after he said that we heard "Stilwell, Stilwell, and Fuhrman" please board the plane" on a very loud loudspeaker even though the person making the announcement could see us 10 feet away from her.

Once we picked up our rental car Leslie was designated map/directions reader since I tend to get carsick if I read in a moving vehicle. After a couple of excursions with Leslie in the front seat supposedly directing Dean, I determined that she may have the best sense of direction of anybody on the face of the earth, but she does not know how to read a map. So I took over her position. I have absolutely no sense of direction, however I did an excellent job reading the map (even if I say so myself) and informing Dean of what street was expected next, telling him when he should turn and which direction. The only problem with that system was that he wouldn't listen to me. So even though I knew where he wanted to be and was expertly leading him there, he'd decide to turn somewhere else. Consequently, we just ended up wherever he finally gave up and stopped. Not surprisingly we got lost at some point each time we tried to get somewhere. But at the end of the weekend we turned in the car with no dents or scratches and that's all I really cared about.

We saw Seattle sights on the two extra days we spent there, ate some great food, and enjoyed four days of sunshine and great weather.



After we got home I wanted to catch up on this blog and post the photos. Somehow between the time I left and got home I got some kind of corrupted file and kept getting a message saying I needed to run a "chkdsk utility". I couldn't get that utility to run no matter what I did. After hours searching help, googling it, and trying various fixes, I finally gave up and called Toshiba. Beginning at 3:30 p.m. last Monday I became friends with Mike, then Patrick and finally Vince. It was Vince who finally told me that the chkdsk utility is not available on my computer because it was disabled and I would have to completely restore my computer back to its factory settings. I thought I'd heard him wrong so I said, "so you're saying I can't run chkdsk...because it seems a little ridiculous that I have to completely restore this computer and lose all my data, when all I really need to do is check for the bad file." "yes" he said, because "people caused more problems by using this utility than they fixed." I made him wait while I backed up my files which took a very long time because in my frustrated, angry state of mind I think I actually copied off everything twice.

Finally at approximately 8:30 p.m. last Monday (yes, a mere 5 hours after my initial call) I got the computer restored, and now the stupid thing is working again and I haven't gotten any corrupt file error messages----------yet. Yesterday was the first time I touched the computer since Monday. Apparently the computer gods didn't think I'd had enough time with technical support people so yesterday I got to spend a very pleasant hour with my ISP because I couldn't figure out how to get my wireless configured on this computer again. I like to think I'm somewhat computer literate but talking to tech support people really is a blow to my self-esteem. It's probably just as well it's all verbal communication and I only hear their sighs, and I don't have to actually see their eye-rolling, head-shaking and the hand-signs I'm sure they're giving to their fellow support people which are code for "boy, do I have a stupid one on the line today."

In between trips to Seattle and fighting with computers Dean and Leslie (with some help from the girls) decided to do some major canning. Last weekend they made applesauce. Even after 14 pints there were still apples left so Leslie and I made two apple pies. Thursday, since the grapes on Leslie and Ryan's grape vines were ripe they decided they'd make some grape jelly. Who knew you could grow grapes in our climate? We even discovered last night at a wedding reception that you can make a grape pie (out of concord grapes anyway....which also grow here!). They were heavy into jelly-making when I got home from work Thursday. I contributed to the effort by taking the girls to the park.

Later when I was on my way to pick up pizza to feed the hungry canners I noticed three deer eating their supper on a bush a half a block down from us so I did a quick turn around, got my camera and took some photos. When I got home from the getting the pizza they were still in the area so I grabbed the girls and we walked over for a look. Myra didn't want to put her dress on since it had collected bits of bark on it at the park and was "pokey" so Emerson and I walked down the street with Myra shuffling along in only her purple princess underwear and her pink cowboy boots. She was quite the sight.

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I Blame The Computer

Trin---This Post's For You!!

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Trin---This Post's For You!!

Catchin' Up

It's the last day of August and the weather is contributing to my feeling that summer has ended by bringing in clouds, cooler weather and showers. I should be out weeding while the ground is moist and soft but I don't want to. I'm using the weather as an excuse to stay out of the yard and catch up on projects inside--one of them being this blog.

Recent events in our lives include the following:

We made a weekend visit to see Abby in Scottsbluff the weekend before she returned to Lincoln. It happened to be Scottsbluff County Fair weekend so we checked it out and attended the bull riding Friday night with Abby and Jorge. I think one cowboy managed to stay on his bull for whatever the required seconds were. The rest bit the dust fairly quickly.



The next day we did some hiking in the Wildcat Hills and visited the Monument. It was a hot day but we found a great spot to stop and rest and have a grape-throwing contest. If it was an Olympic event Jorge would have won the gold for the furthest and straightest. Abby attempted to win the gold for distance but what she actually won was the gold for the biggest splat made by a grape when thrown a mere 1 1/2 feet in front of you. I would have won the gold for a grape thrown the furthest off-target and Dean would have won a gold just because he tried so darn hard to beat us all.




We've had lots of grandkid time which is so much nicer than 3 days once every 3 or 4 months. One day in August we kept them so Leslie and Ryan could get some things done in their house. The bulk of the day was spent playing in the pool which is a great place to be when little bodies are covered in popsicle juice.



We spent this past Friday night and Saturday in Denver visiting friends, experiencing the food and festivities at "A Taste of Colorado", drooling over the fruits and vegetables at the farmer's market and shopping at REI's Labor Day sale.

We also got to walk by the booths near the convention center that were still set up selling Obama gear and once again felt as though we were walking among our own people. Two people honked at us as we were driving in downtown Denver. I'm sure it was because of the Obama sticker on our car and had nothing to do with Dean's driving.
I wasted a large part of yesterday baking. First I made a plum streudel which tasted okay but was so dry you couldn't eat it without a large scoop of ice cream or a generous portion of cream on top and since neither Dean nor I like working out as much as it would require to burn off that much fat ... into the garbage it went. I followed that up by making a loaf of zucchini bread using the leftover plums and some rhubarb. Once again, edible but not so great. Apparently plums are too moist and I should have added more flour. There was nice sunken center to the bread. But since it's moist and sorta edible, it's still on the counter.

Today I thought I'd attempt ciabatta bread. I saw some at the farmers market in Denver and since it's hard for me to buy bread because I think I should be able to make it myself, I gave it a whirl today. It looks like the photo in the recipe (sorta) but not like the thicker bread you see at farmers markets and I didn't get those big holes in the bread. However, it is tasty so I think we'll be eating it with cheese tonight for an easy supper.




http://www.aaanimations.com/wav/porkypigswav.wav◦

Catchin' Up

Like Fine Wine

36 years and counting ...




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Like Fine Wine

Music on the Mountain

In the middle of July we spent a day on the mountain listening to music. Ryan wasn't able to come but Leslie and the kids came up and Abby brought her boyfriend, Jorge. Dean and I went up early with a cooler of food and drinks and staked out our spot on the ground. Once again we were in the minority since we don't have a cell phone and we don't own a fancy lawn chair with a cup holder but we still managed to have a great day.
And thanks to Jorge here's a clip of some music and dancing.

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Music on the Mountain

Who said you need a backseat?

It only took about 45 minutes of head-scratching, Googling (you'd be surprised how many people can't get their trunk open for one reason or another), manual-reading, and finally, seat removal, before we gained access to the trunk and retrieved the groceries. The trunk is now bungied down and the seats are stored in the garage until Dean finds the time to fix the trunk latch mechanism. It seems now it won't latch---with or without sand. It's just one more of life's small challenges.




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Who said you need a backseat?

Do not attempt this at home (or in your own car)

I am trying to get photos ready for my next post but I had take a break from that because as I type Dean is outside trying to unstick the trunk. Here's the deal. He's been using our little Toyota Corolla to haul buckets full of sand and small pebbles that he's been using as a base in the side and front yard rocked area. Seems at some point a bucket (or maybe more as far as I know) tipped over and spilled said bits of pebbles and sand in the trunk. These small particles have become lodged in all the tiny spaces inside the trunk and on occasion get caught in the lock mechanism so when he tries to unlock the trunk the tiny bits of sand and pebbles prevent it from opening.

We just returned from the grocery store a bit ago and when he tried to unlock the trunk to bring in our items (half of which require refrigeration not to mention the two bags of ice) the trunk would not unlock. Apparently it's the third time this has happened. I stood around for a while as he pushed the car up and down, beat on the trunk to try and dislodge the pebbles and sand, got a crowbar out and tried to pry the lock open as he turned the key, then sighed and said, "I keep cleaning it out and they keep getting caught. I thought I had them all". I finally left hoping the sound of the front door opening and grocery bags being hauled in would follow shortly. So far...approximately 20 minutes later...I've only heard the banging on the car. I went out once to see how it was going and amazingly he was still smiling (sort of) and his only comment was, "I wish I knew how I got it unlocked before."

Honestly, I just feel like laughing. It's just so stupid it's funny. Wait...I hear footsteps....do I hear grocery bags? ... No..... It's just too, too funny. Poor guy. Maybe the melting ice will cause the pebbles and sand to relocate and the lock will open. I guess I'll get brave and see if I can help by offering well thought out, creative suggestions. :-) I didn't want to post photos anyway....◦

Do not attempt this at home (or in your own car)

Cow Poop

We had our first grandparent excursion in Casper when we took Emerson and Myra to the county fair. We arrived at their house shortly after 5:00 p.m. to find them dressed in blue jeans, and cowboy boots and rarin' to go. All they were missing were the cowboy hats. Dean and I didn't quite look the part in our tennis shoes but we were wearing blue jeans.

Once we arrived Dean pointed out to the girls that he smelled cow poop. Myra completely agreed with him and chanted all the way in as we bought tickets and found our way into the center of the fairgrounds "I smell cow poop", "I smell cow poop", "I smell cow poop."

Our first act as responsible grandparents was to buy cotton candy. Emerson managed to swallow large handfuls without any problem. Myra was able to plaster it to her nose and chin but had trouble getting it in her mouth. She walked around like a fish with her round mouth opening and closing and blue cotton candy hanging off her nose and chin.

The first mistake we made as out-of-practice parents and "new" grandparents was stopping at the carnival first. I foolishly thought we'd let the girls have a ride on the merry-go-round and then hit the barns. What I quickly learned was if you stop at the carnival first, nothing else is as exciting the rest of the night. Myra revised her chant from "I smell cow poop" to "I wanna ride the horse", "I wanna ride the horse"... We somehow managed to pry them from the rides and explored the animal barns. Dean and Emerson took their time as they slowly moved from pen to pen. They seemed to have intent conversations about each different animal. I'm can only guess that they must have been discussing the genetic differences between a black cow and a brown and white cow or the reason the daddy peacock is prettier than the mommy. Myra and I, on the other hand, flitted from pen to pen with the longest stop approximately 3 seconds. At one point I suggested to Myra she might want to watch carefully so she didn't step in cow poop. Consequently the chant changed to "I see cow poop", "I see cow poop", I see cow poop".

We made a quick tour through the exhibit hall, touched creepy lizard-like reptiles, played for a while in the science booth and then made our way to the rodeo. Dean bought us Indian Tacos, sodas, and warm, gooey cinnamon bread. We made a picnic on the floor of the stadium and waited for the rodeo to start. As we were eating, a guy dressed like a cowboy, walking on the tallest stilts I've ever seen, wandered through trying to get kids to walk between those really tall legs. Once the rodeo started he disappeared and we didn't see him again. It wasn't long before chant number four began which continued all the way through the rodeo and on the ride home, "where's the big guy?", "where's the big guy?", "where's the big guy?" Emerson and I finally told Myra the really big guy's really big mom told him he had to go home. Sadly, that wasn't satisfying and only resulted in "why?".

Rodeos aren't all that exciting for little girls but we made it through to the end with the help of ice cream and a break in the middle to go ride the merry-go-round, the boats and the cars. At about 9:45 p.m. we deposited them safely at home, dirty, sticky, tired, and as Leslie pointed out to me "you all stink like cow poop."◦

Cow Poop

Balloons

I actually got up at the same time as a work day this morning and went with Dean to see the hot air balloon festival. It was amazing how many people were up and at the field at 6:10 a.m. which is when we arrived. Two balloons were already in the air and when we left at 6:40 a.m. they were all up. It's a good thing I didn't make Dean stop for coffee or we would have missed the whole thing. He told me I whined every time I saw somebody walk by with a steaming cup of hot coffee but I think he was exaggerating. Just because I pointed out every cup of coffee that went by does not mean I was whining.

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Balloons

Rocks, Rolies and Rollin'

Our own home improvement projects are continuing broken up by a quick trip back to Lincoln for a wedding and a week in Delta.

The rock work is oh so close to being completed prolonged only by Dean's insistence on meticulously placing each rock in its appointed place one at at time. Sometimes I think he's really an engineer disguised as a geologist. And by the way...this photo was taken in June. Thankfully it has finally warmed up.




Leslie and Ryan have moved back to Casper. We spent a week helping them pack up the final boxes, finishing up small miscellaneous projects, cleaning the house and loading the truck. Once the last toy was packed Emerson and Myra discovered they could have as much fun collecting roly poly bugs and worms as they could playing with leggos and dolls. And having their Papa teach them the fine art of spitting on rocks to view their beauty was pretty cool too.





Of course digging for bugs and worms necessitates baths. One night as I was on duty while they played in the tub I figured I may as well clean the bathroom while I was in there. Leslie came in to see how we were all getting along and discovered somebody had somehow dumped a large amount of water on the floor. The only toy left was one plastic glass and the girls had stricken looks on their faces. When Leslie left to get something to wipe up the water I looked over and saw two small heads forehead to forehead whispering, "you did it, no you did it, you did it, no you did it..."

The truck was loaded with the help of a couple of their friends and we even had time to relax in the front yard. Of course the fact that that all the furniture was packed on Saturday and grass was softer than hard wood floors may have had something to do with it. Pierce spent his time eating plums or napping under the tree.














We rolled into Casper after an uneventful trip other than Dean and Ryan discovering the trailer towing their small pickup had a flat before they'd even made it out of Delta. We all rolled in to Casper safe and sound and now "all" that's left is the unpacking.◦

Rocks, Rolies and Rollin'