Some people are not meant to take things easy. (Not me, obviously. I can lounge with the best of them if I have to.) My dad is one of those people. He tried retirement, and found that it only led to endless trips to Home Depot and micromanaging the organization of my mom's kitchen spices. Not a pretty situation.
Now he's got a new gig:
Pretty fabulous, no? That's my dad. He came out of retirement to give the masses what they want: super-chilled ice ream and a whole lotta smoke.
I now return you to your regular programming.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
(To the tune of "On Top of Old Smokey"/"On Top of Spaghetti", depending upon your generation or musical background)
I want a new bath--room,
not covered in pee,
with shiny clean fixtures,
and a shower for me.
I need a new bath--room;
this one is too small.
If I get much fatter,
I'll push out through the wall.
I've looked at new ti--le,
and pedestal sinks.
But am I the only,
for whom brown is the stinks?
I'm dreaming of whi--ite,
and azure tones, too.
But all of the ti--le,
looks like new baby poo.
Oh Angel of bath--rooms,
and mommies who scrub,
please rip up the flooring,
and blow up the tub.
I've got to re--mo--del,
and freshen the space.
Because if I don't
it may doom the whole race.
So if you like ti--ling,
and plumbing a line,
Give me a sweet phone call,
and my gratitude's thine.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
You know how it is with most experiences--you head into them with excitement and enthusiasm, only to discover quite soon thereafter that things aren't quite as good as you had hoped. (As examples I can offer: High School, possessing a driver's license, owning any pet that sheds, drools, shreds, or requires feeding, and motherhood--which is very nice on the whole, but a whole bag of dried beans some days.) And with each new experience, you think, "Hey, this will be fabulous, and it will always be wonderful and exciting, and I will love every minute of it!" And then reality hits. Every time.
Except for this time. Because having Sunny in our family is fabulous every day. Seriously--who knew it would be so great to have a person in the home who can carry on an intelligent, non-argumentative, non-fourth-grade humor conversation? Who knew how amazingly refreshing it would be to have someone here who is willing to take a bath without protracted negotiations? How amazing is it to have someone polite and kind and positive around this place? This is soooooo much better than I imagined it. Thank you Sunny and parents--you have made my month.
One of the not-quite-fringe benefits is that we now have an excuse--no, a responsibility!--to explore the state and its wonders, even though we've pretty much sat on our tushes for the previous several years, procrastinating the heck out of in-state travel. ("The Grand Canyon? It's been there for millions of years--it ain't going anywhere soon. We'll catch it later.")
So, now we go places. (And since I was raised in a family that thought monthly road trips were essential to salvation, this is what I've always thought family life was supposed to be like.)
We've gone canoeing up on the Rim:
We've visited Montezuma Castle:
(Side note: there are a LOT of German tourists at Montezuma Castle. A Lot. I would like to take this moment to inform all those tourists that not all Americans are stupid hicks. Some of us even speak civilized languages other than our own. And if you're going to be so rude as to make fun of the American mom who has spent all her money on taking care of her children, and thus has none left over for trendy or even acceptable clothes, and thus must wear stripey pink pants that no clown would be seen in
BECAUSE THOSE ARE HER ONLY PAIR OF PANTS!!!!!,
then for heaven's sake, don't compare her to a tacky chameleon--because she understands you and will give you the glare of your life, you snobby, stupid, snooty assumer.) (BTW, I don't think your t-shirt was all that tasteful, either. So there.)
We visited--and thoroughly enjoyed--Montezuma Well:
And we even survived the traffic coming home. Thanks, Sunny!