It's A Party Tonight-- Pasadena Nights

THIS IS THE WINNING TICKET

I feel it!

When King Ralph and I win

 this is how the crowd will celebrate

 

If When we win the grand prize we'll take the

'Cause CASH IS KING!

But if we end up with the second prize 

 

I'll be just as happy with a suitcase of sun tan lotion

and a tropical beverage.

Third place, well that'll do us just fine too...

placed over our fireplace

while we watch our favorite flicks

and eat popcorn.

  

So, basically we plan to win something tonight.

Just like we did last time the band had a raffle.

So feel free to come on out tonight and cheer, I mean congratulate us.

The Friday Night Lights

won't be shining on the football team

 at Flyers Field tonight--

'cause tonight at Flyers Field, 

it's all about the band

It's a little big thing we call

PASADENA NIGHTS.

September

To welcome in September let's all sing and dance together.
 

Just be glad I didn't chose Niel Diamond to say hello September.

Eve Bunting Wrote A Book About It --Nasty, Stinky Sneakers

 If Hell had a bottled smell it would smell like these sneakers-- M's marching band tennies.

I tell you these shoes smell worse than sh@*! I have changed baby diapers that compared to, smell like a rose.  I would almost rather camp out in an outhouse than have those beastly sneakers in my car--the scent lingers, for weeks.  How to expunge the odor is a challenge of maximum proportion!  I have tried letting the fresh outdoor air and sunshine bake it out.  I have washed them in boiling hot water, with every type of detergent, coated in Spray-n-Wash, extra Tide sprinkle in the shoe for the washing and then followed with a sprinkle of baking soda in the shoe.  To no avail the scent sticks. Not an ounce of the pungent smell seems to leave.  It is stuck like feather to tar.  Friday night I had to walk down the band hall to find a teen-- consider it a miracle that I sit here with my fingers clicking on this keyboard-- I was hit with the smell of those sneakers times five-hundred.  

Deadly!

After a morning of zero hour and first hour of marching practice, every kid removes their sneakers coated in morning dew then places them in a dark locker that is sealed till the next day. Ech shoe is breeding a bacteria that I swear no janitorial product known to man can cure (and probably no biologist has scene under a microscope). However, I have vowed to find a cure for the stench allowing the M's shoes to enter my house.  As of now, actually for the last four years, they have been grounded to the garage only.

(The photo shown was taken in my front foyer on the way to the garage)

So what does a mom do? She Googles "how to rid odor from tennis shoes".  Here is what the search options are: wash sneakers, dry them, place them in a large zip lock and place in the freezer overnight.  The article swears cold kills the bacteria created from smelly wet shoes.  And, kitty litter in a knee high nylon then stuffed in the shoe.  The article promising that kitty litter draws the moisture from the shoe plus the odor.  I suppose I will give it a try. What do I have to lose?

So if you happen to open my freezer tomorrow to grab a toaster strudel just shift the sneakers--but do not remove.  If you happen to bring you cat by for a visit don't let him think the sneakers are the litter box. 

If none of these crazy ideas work then the final option is-- burn'em!      

Under the Friday Night Lights

Friday Night Lights mean a few things for me. It means: glam girls, hair spray hands, bleacher bootie and parent pride. Not mention a whole lot of touchdowns!

While a field show is a work in progress; teasing us at the first football game with two movements and practice flags...the second show should be guard girls in the guise of white Lycra and ruffles, sparkling under those lights with glitter and rhinestones, twirling fabulously fantastic flags to the melodic tunes of "Seasons".  Horns will blow, drums will beat, flutes will flutter, flags will spin and the band will bring down the house--under those Friday Night Lights.

Last night's game ended with fireworks, figuratively not literally, wondering if the opponents ever showed for the game; which was good for the band--more audience.  The audience gathered round the marching band as they took to the stadium courtyard to sing.  Yes, I said sing.  A singing marching band, which one would think should be full of tone deaf kids that would send Simon Cowell screaming his insulting blips.  But, no, when those kids opened their mouths they revealed a hidden instrument--their voices, their singing voices in four part harmony.  They sounded like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  It was the sound of Joy to the World by tune of the Lindbergh High Alma mater.  It was a chorus of green and gold clad angels.  We live in a community that so many plant there own seeds back in the soil.  You could probably ask a thousand alums in those stands to sing the Alma mater and blank stares would greet.  I am one of those blank stares.  How exciting it is to think these 231 kids will leave the same school I attained my high school tassel from and will know a song that gives them pride and ownership to the ties that are said to offer up "the best years of your life."

So until next Friday when "to Lindbergh High we raise our voices"...and our trumpets, trombones, tubas, clarinets, saxophones, sousaphones....

Wordless Wednesday

My M. I just think she is so darn adorable.

Reflection

Sunday on our way back from Johnson's Shut-Ins we stopped to visit the in-laws.  The girls wanted to swim more, since they live on a lake.  Princess A wanted every last ounce of sunshine her skin could absorb--working in a doctor's office Monday thru Friday in the summer months leaves a 20-year old girl pale--her grandma's house was just the place.

We gathered at their kitchen table, conversation quickly turned to "what we were doing this time last year".  Last year I remember I was exhausted, all the time.  For three months I went from work to the hospital for the night shift of keeping my mother-in-law in company.  When she was transferred to the hospital across the street for rehab King Ralph and I shared the job of "keeping her company"--I went right after work, then he came when he got home from work so I could run the girls to activities.  Her husband left when I arrived so he could rest.  I think keeping her mind going and working helped in her healing process; keeping her lucid and lessened her moments of rambled thoughts...thoughts that were at times very Alice in Wonderlandesque.  Still no matter what we say to her today we cannot convince her that during her two brain surgeries there were no bugs removed from her head. As we all sat around talking about her latest doctor report (no surgery as of now to place a metal plate on the skull area left open and no doctor visit for a year) she looks at the girls and says: "there is something about your grandma you don't know".  King Ralph was prepared to hear some deep dark secret of his mother's past...when she says..."I collected the bugs when I was at the doctor and brought them home and threw them over the balcony."  Her husband rolled his eyes up and shook his head.  What do say to someone who still struggles with the symptoms of brain surgeries.  I'll tell you what I said.  I said "great Mom, then the bugs are in the lake and they are gone, forever, never to return.  You can stop worrying about the bugs."  I am telling you all that must have been one vivid dream she had when she out of it.  She swears the doctor removed bugs that had faces like Jim Carrey.  Why Jim Carrey we'll never know.  But no one, not us, not her husband, not her daughters, not her grandchildren, not even her doctor can convince her she had NO bugs in her head removed. I doubt too that that is the last we'll hear about those bugs. I also think we should hide all the Jim Carrey movies they may own, just in case.

Bugs or not, a year later it is quite the miracle she survived all she did and is back in a darn good place all around.

It sure feels good to start off the school year not completely exhausted physically and mentally!              

Next Time We're Going Camping At Johnson's Shut-Ins

This past weekend was the last obligation free weekend for sometime--Friday starts football season...which means marching band.  It will be the beginning of the end.  This time when I say that I really mean the end;  M is my last marching band child.

So what did we do to enjoy our last band free weekend?  We went to Johnson's Shut-Ins State Park for a day trip on Sunday.

A seventy mile drive from home brought us here.

It had been a while since we visited the park-- even a while before the dam collapsed and destroyed the park.  We weren't so surprised to see how many trees were lost from the onslaught of water, still kind of sad to see such vast openness at the parks entrance.  The shut-ins don't look much different at all. The new visitor center was nice, some art outside and inside a few hand on exhibits. (Which lent hand to grown girls acting like children)    All the new day use areas were really nice--shaded solid structure canopies over picnic tables and BBQ grills on concrete pads.

Before we headed for home we checked out the newly located campground down the road from it original location inside the park.  It was really nice.  Bigger than before, five loops, with lots of full  or electric hook-up sites and really nice walk-in sites nestled in the trees for tent campers .  Every site is paved with lantern hooks, fire rings and picnic tables.  We picked out a site in the "electric" loop for our visit--site 310 (it had nice shade trees).  They also now have camping cabins that are quite spacious with little front porch decks. The shower areas (which is a huge pet peeve of mine) were nice and plentiful.  The toilets--flush.  Not just flush but let you choose which way to flush--up for number one down for number two (I'm not going to tell which direction I  moved the handle).  

It was to hot and humid to hike; the trails look they have been restored nicely. For .95 you can get a trail map, not bad considering it cost nothing to enter the park.  However, get there early since they only allow so many cars to enter at a time.  When we left after four hours of swimming and picnicing there were two cars waiting there turn to enter.   

We skipped Elephant Rocks State Park this time.  We really want to try to explore Taum Sauk Mountain State Park next trip out that way.   

As soon as the heat breaks (and marching band isn't all consuming) we plan to head back to the shut-ins for some hiking and marshmallow roasting over an open fire...'cause next time we're camping at Johnson's Shit-Ins!      

Sweat Does A Kid Good

I started wondering yesterday how it is I survived elementary school.  How any of us survived school.  I'm not talking math class and spelling tests, I'm talking the days of non-air conditioned classrooms. How is it we are still here on this earth?  According the color coated weather chart that landed on my desk we lived our entire youths in the "red danger zone" and still managed outdoor recess.  I imagine way-back-when in the days before Doppler radar and all those other fancy weather person tools, it must have gotten be a hundred degrees and hotter with the heat index; no one feared us having a heat stroke on the playground.  Back-in-the-days we had a box fan, or two, that blew around hot air in the classroom and our teachers wore nylons with their skirts.  I remember we would get lectured about the possibilities of losing fingers and nose tip if we grabbed hold of the fan to talk into the moving blades just to hear our voices vibrate. We'd say the obvious to the fan blades: I'm HhhHoOoOOootTTttTTt.  We learned in the dark, not because we were learning to be owls, but because no lights meant a cooler classroom.  Going outside on sweltering days meant a chance to have air circulate around your glistening body while adjusting to sunlight.

Present day. Recess canceled.

I stood on the playground yesterday in 94* with 45% humidity, feels like 101* with my thunder thighs sweating, feeling like I wet my panties, my bra soaked wet, wondering why I couldn't seek refuge in the air-conditioned building waiting for the principal to cancel recess that was being conducted in the "red zone".  Society has come to learn that recess in this type of weather can only be conducted indoors with a/c or at the local community Olympic size swimming pool. 

While my body was a pool of sweat the feet were happy with jewels catching the sun.  Except with fashion comes pain--even in the world of stretching the flip flop dress code rule.   

See my wound? They require some break in time...but aren't the flops fabulous in that simplistic way?  I couldn't possibly shower in these beauties. No way!

Then today as I was prepared to sweat my arse off again...I heavily dusted in Shower to Shower powder from shoulders to knees with double layers of Secret anti-perspriant under each arm pit...what the hey outdoor recess was canceled.

I don't know, I think all the sweating I did in elementary school built character.  And, isn't that what schools are all about these days-- Character Education?

It's Like Being Stuck In Punxsutawney And I'm Phil

I feel like Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day.  I go to bed and wake to an alarm clock that seems to scream repeat of the day before...except today a little earlier..."a little" is going to be the way.

We all survived the first day of school--me included. It seems like the first day has rolled into the second day a whole lot quicker than years preceding.  Yesterday I heard rustling in my bathroom at 6am, this morning 515am.  Yippee-ya-hoo zero hour begins.  Although M has her own wheels now to drive herself and the neighbor girl to zero hour; someone still has to get up and make lunches.  I know some of you are saying pack the lunches at night.  I just can't bring myself to make a sandwich the night before and then think it has to hang around in a messenger bag all day, growing that much older and stale.  Fresh, I like the girls to have fresh soft bread.

I am told today is going to be another recess weather day sent from heaven.  Any outside temperature under 90* constitutes a Jesus loves me.  Tomorrow the weather man is predicting a visit from the devil.  Which means only one thing in my book--wearing shoes that allow my feet to breathe. I try my best to follow defy the footwear rule of "no shoes that you can wear in the shower", but sometimes it is just hard.  Last night when I went to Target to purchase more school supplies, I found a beautiful pair of flops that I cannot wear in the shower.  Beautiful golden flops bedazzled with clear jewels.  They scream I'm trying not to defy your rule [in a fashion way].  While the first several weeks of school means trying to swim to the top of a stack of work, my feet will be saying bling and aaahhh as air circulates around them.

That my friend is what makes for a tired mom with building assistant happy feet. 

Tomorrow I will wake and it will be another day in Punxsutawney.  Two down, 174 more to go.

A Senior and a Sophomore

D just walked upstairs and we had this brief conversation

D- Can you see my bra straps

Me- No I can see the straps of your tank top.

D- Whatever I don't care, this is like the stupidest day. Summer is over! 

That's right D it's here, the first day of school.  A day that always has an eve of stress.  Years ago it was gummed reinforcers not filled from the school list that sent D into a frazzled mess.  Present day stress caused by the mysterious location of the black nail polish.  Yep you heard me right, D finally likes her toes painted.  She fought the mark of femininity practically her whole life and now... she likes only black for its high fashion mark not to confused as a mark of goth.  Like every year, I manage to calm the rippled waters.  Toes painted. Then it was a runway of hair style options.  Aaaaaahhhh! Just get to bed.

M's eve stress is limited to foot wear since her fashion choice is once again dictated by her role as she dons a Link Crew Leader T-shirt.  So what could stress my M--four inch wedges or flat jeweled sandals?  Uh, flats go much-much better with your newly acquired parking pass.

6am I hear movement in my bathroom.  No, it can't be, stop this day of what will become long scheduled early risings!  Unfortunately there is no stopping it.  Eye shadows and pink blushes dust in the air, hair spray fumes suffocate and brown sacks stuffed with yummies line the kitchen counter.  The outside temperature is a sentiment of Jesus loves us; as the weather is reported to be a glorious 82* at noon with lower than usual humidity.    

And the camera.

Yes sirree the always coveted First Day of School picture.     

A senior and a sophomore. (Or looking at the picture a sophomore and a senior) 

Been Prank'd Band Geek Style

The moment of glory. The moment that thirty-two seniors had waited for.  Holding out, stuck it out, never throwing in the towel because of all those zero hour rehearsals, instead waiting four years for their turn to reek havoc.  Senior prank at band camp.

When Princess A was a senior I gave the kids the idea to fork the practice field.  Known as the largest band class of seniors in Flyers history they were fifty-four seniors strong that year contributing around a hundred forks per band kid.  Like burglars in the night they crept to the field in the darkness fashioning the plastic forks center field to read "08"--their graduation year. 

So here we are in our abode once again plotting pranks.

I had heard rumbles of this and that but nothing concrete. There was chatter about putting clubs on the gators steering wheels.  There was babble of an intricate web design of duct tape on the directors' cabin door.  There was jabber of gator sabotage once again, this time the talk was wrapping the gator in Saran Wrap.  In the end...the prank played out nicely.  First they decorated the field with everyone's water jugs, assembling them to spell out "NX-211" (the number on the side of Charles Lindbergh's plane, hence Lindbergh High School).  That was the opening picture of their freshman year competition show "Flight".  Next they decorated the drum major stand with signs and copies of the head director's face.  They couldn't stop with his face plastered in just one spot they dusted the entire camp with his mug.  Phase two.  They woke all the directors by standing in the hall of their cabin playing the fight song.  Thankfully they stumbled out to greet them with chuckles.  The big finale. They then returned some time later rousing them to the outdoors where they stood at attention in a block formation and pelted them with water balloons.  Thankfully the directors are young enough to remember the joys of pulling off a senior prank...not to mention when the temperature is still just below 100* at 2am water sprinklings is a welcome cool down.  When the head director got to the field with the band in the morning he got all sentimental at seeing the "NX-211" on the field.  He then asked the seniors to go stand on their mark from the opener of that show.  Crazy but everyone of those seniors knew exactly were to stand.  I suppose that was his way of saying when a year ends, you have played the show enough to gag yourself and you are happy that marching band is over for the season; it really does leave its ever lasting mark on your memory.

So as hot, tired and crabby as the 234 marching band teens returned home to their parents after four days of intense practice in sweltering record heat.... thirty-two hot, tired and crabby seniors returned home feeling like the all time prank champions of LHS marching band seniors.

Thus begins the beginning of an end.         

Oh Louie the Triton She'll Learn to Love You--Someday

Today was the day of realization.  The day Princess A had to reckon with the demon inside of her...the demon of feeling like a traitor...coming to terms with the decision she made herself.  It was an inner battle between Rawdy the Red Hawk and Louie the Triton.  While a red hawk is an actual creature, a [Triton] named Louie is a mythical creature...Princess A kind of feels like she left her real world and is in a mythical land.  I call it transition, she calls it reality.

This morning was orientation.  Why ever did I agree to go?  New school, new system to learn, love for my child.  Yep that's the reasons.  However, when they threw me in a room with parents that were virgins to the send off of a child to college..."Letting Go" was the last seminar I needed to be forced to attend.  Fifty minutes of chat about kids doing there own laundry (I stopped doing her laundry long before I sent her off to college), shedding tears when you say that final good-bye (which I didn't do two years ago because I was excited for her venture) and setting up a communication system-- when to call your child. (I plan to call Princess A from the kitchen to her bedroom often).  Why oh why does the parent of a transfer commuter student need to sit through such a seminar?!  Princess A was questioning why she needed to attend seminars on how to navigate the university's website and how to be safe on campus (as she waved her mace in a pink container at the campus police officer as he lectured). 

While we ate our complimentary lunch (is anything really complimentary...by look of the tuition bill I say no); Princess A and I agreed to bounce.  I didn't think we were above the room full of parents and students but when you have done it in one place it feels like repetition. You know same song different tune.

We headed off together to tend to a few lose strings; Princess A with her list of "to do's" and me with the wallet.  That's why I came along, to pay for stuff like a parking permit and books....

From the corner of my eye I caught glimpse of a different mascot.  This mascot looked like a chicken that had been rolled over by a truck--hardly competiton to Louie the mythical creature that looks like a red lizard.  I asked a campus administrator standing there who the chicken was.  It was explained that the chicken was a mascot that student life uses to get the student body pumped up to join activities. When I asked why a chicken though, the administrator just shrugged her shoulders.  I'm telling you it was like someone went to a mascot recycling center and decided a chicken that looked like it had been run over by a truck seemed like a good idea.  Guess we'll see if the matted chicken pecks Princess A to get involved in her new place of higher education.        

Then we filled out an evaluation, scored a couple of free university T-shirts (free is never free it's all in the tuition, right?) and bounced.

And so, the period of transition is set to begin.

1:10AM

I am hemming color guard parade uniforms, still.  If one leg is longer than the other it is probably because I am hemming with one eye open and one eye closed.  Hopefully tomorrow morning the auditorium full of school district employees attending the back-to-school rally will be so tired they will have one eye open and one eye closed.

The things we do for kids...for marching band.   


(It seems at this hour of the night Viagra TV commercial are in full abundance.  Do you think they have proof that men suffering from a lack of are awake watching TV at this ridiculous hour?)

Somebody, Quick, Turn Back Time

This is it, officially the last week of summer break.  Sigh. Next Tuesday I will be posting a picture of M & D as they head off for a new school year; for M her final year of high school, for D a move up the "food chain".  For me the last year in my building before its transition back to a middle school--twenty-five years as an elementary school comes to an end.  So today we are all waking early making our own transitions.  As wonderful as staying awake till 130am watching old black and white movies is...real life beckons to rear its ugly face once again.  Alarms will awaken at 515am, while lunches will need to be packed and pencils sharpened.  All the absences that made summer break so enjoyable are ending.  Resurfacing will be those famous Avery Sister fashion fights: she's wearing my socks, I didn't say you could wear that shirt, hey those are my sandals take'm off...oh gosh I can hardly wait.  Not!  Till then we have last minute summer reading requirements that are in the crunch mode--for a seventeen-year old Madame Bovary lacks that grasp-ya.

In the mean time I have been getting in last minute appointments. M tried again, to no avail, to find a cure for her vision condition.  Now we just sit back and watch her eyes slowly change till the inevitable of another surgery.  No time frame was given, and I didn't care to ask, just left knowing one day she'll be under the knife again.  However in the possibilities of health issues I dare not complain.  Her life is full and rich despite.

Friday Princess A and I will be off to explore her new university choice through an orientation.  She's at peace with her decision to make the transfer and of course when I paid her tuition I felt my wallet sing a Pink Floyd tune.  Okay so we don't have enough money left to buy a football team but there is cash left for maybe a two star [not a four star] dream.  However it's not about how much money King Ralph and I are saving, it is about Princess A finding happiness in her journey through higher education; coming to a place where she feels undistracted and satisfied with her level of intelligence.  I know she will be thrilled to not be sick all time.  When she was away at school she spent more time in the health center seeking cures than she went to the pediatrician in her early years.  The Dayquil/Nyquil profits will take a hit with our Princess A healthily  residing at home.

All this realization of what is about to start all over again means one thing...three more days to bronze my skin.

Good-bye blog, hello pool.

:-)

Yesterday was a happy day.  Not because I spent the afternoon floating in the pool bronzing my skin.  Not because there was no band practice to drive to at the crack of the summer's day's dawn.  Not because Mother Nature gave a break from the oppressive heat (well truth be that sure did add to the happy day).  Not because I have just made my auto insurance company a little bit wealthier.  Yesterday was a happy day because M got her driver's license! 

Now I am not sure it was an all out happy day for me or King Ralph since sending our kid out on the road solo means noshing at our fingers nails till our baby girl returns home safely.  Regardless we have been through this teen driver experience once before...it never minimizes the parental stress.  We do hope that having our girls wait to drive till they are high school seniors, allowing the last portion of the developing brain to evolve--reasoning--helps them to be more responsible drivers.  We really are proponents of making the driving age 18.       

Since King Ralph's new life goal is to have more cars in front of our house than the frat boys next door...we have a little Honda we added to our stock.

So here's to you M, may you never roll a stop sign and may you always drive the speed limit. You too M can be the receiver of Dad's standard last words as you walk out the door--"be safe."

Yes, be safe.    



  

Add Candle Please

I am celebrating the merriment of growing a year older.  Or am I celebrating the merriment being perimenapausal?

I had this dream last week that I took a pregnancy test and it came out showing an odd sign on the stick so I peed on the stick again for it to show positive.  I believe I woke in a sweat, a cold sweat this time.  I mentioned to Princess A and D last night my lack of menstruating when it was suggested that my dream might be coming true.  I don't know what made me speak what was rolling in my mind out loud but I replied "not a chance I was in a camper" forget the dawg was snipped a decade plus ago.  The look on D's face was, well, priceless.  Forget that my favorite thing in life was to trap the girls in the car and talk sex ed with them (a trapped captive audience when driving 65mph down the highway can't escape the lessons)-- they would prefer to believe a stork dropped them off at the door than that their parents....

I considered making this Paula Dean treat for myself for my birthday except one, it is to damn hot outside to fire up the oven and two, with my metabolism all whacked the last thing I need to add is hard to burn fat to my frame.  I guess I'll stick a candle in my celery stalk snack.

I am going to take the hiatus of the curse of womanhood as a birthday gift of sorts.  What do I call that two hour hot flash I had Saturday night causing me to lose sleep?        

If I don't melt away on this birthday of mine I will consider it a great accomplishment in my year older--feels like 111* today. Uhg!

Here's to great adventures to come in my-- another year older.

The Week's Calendar Says

My week is filled with driving M to the high school for more of this...

I suppose someday when my calendar doesn't say it is filled with this, I will miss it.  Until then waking at 6am in the summer to drive screams--nightmare. 

Hey Chelsea, How 'bout One of These Tasty Treats

These delicious cup sized cakes are full of glutens and animal products.  They don't stop traffic but yet certainly could.  They could cause gluttony but at the beer man's budget.  I bet they would go good with a nice bottle of $9.99 wine from my rack--that was not complimentary.      

I'm just saying....

Swagger Wagon I Will Always Remember You With Fondness and Love

She sparkles like diamond dust in the shining sun but is black as ebony. She purrs like a kitty and glides like freshly sharpened skates on smooth ice. She's muscular yet feminine. She prefers the scent of lavender to musk. She hums country while still able to breathe rock and jazz. She could lift granite but prefers silk. Could fill with Kens but will fill with Barbies. She prefers TUMS to Smarties. She is my Anna Sewell novel--my Black Beauty.

MY new ride.

I Dare Not Complain About the Heat

While I am inside enjoying the pleasures of air conditioning, on these miserable hot Saint Louis summer days, my middle girl is doing this:

(in this clip she's the one getting a drink of water)
 
(in this clip, near the end, she's the girl with the flag in hand)

I am Br'er Rabbit On The Hunt For A New Ride

Being a parent comes with it moments, especially when you have a teen who lapses momentarily in sound judgement and thinks she is dumb like a fox.  Don't kids realize parents always find out and the consequence is always greater than the moment of thrill?  So while I have one child and her electronics on house arrest I found a very comical text yesterday she received, it goes like this: "hey jailbird! i've been doing some thinking about your predicament, and im going to mail you a copy of "escape from alcatraz" for inspiration"

Oh course I laughed; then went and hid all the nail files, shovels and rope. Then I uncovered my copy of Scholastic Grammar Lessons & Strategies to mail to the textor; who apparently missed the lessons on capitalization and punctuation way back in first grade.

Now to the thing that has me chewing on TUMS...buying a new vehicle.

While we were on vacation and the swagger wagon was huffing her way up Hwy 550 in Colorado (most gorgeous scenic drive ever!) towing the pop-up I told King Ralph I thought we should start putting our retirement plan into the works and purchase a truck.  Then while we were cranking up the pop-up I decided we need to invest in an expandable travel trailer to make our lives easier.  Never mind we are like magicians with that darn camper, in the snap of the fingers she is up and ready for company...it just got old every three days cranking her up and down.  So today, again, we are out searching for the perfect quad cab truck.  Buying vehicles makes my stomach hurt.  I really thought when we started the search that I was feeling good about it, being that we have all our finances in order...nevertheless big ticket items make my stomach ache and my head hurt.

Here's to hoping the heat doesn't kill while walking the car lots before I overdose on TUMS and sign on the dotted line.    

I Feel Like Marian Paroo and Carol Peterson And It's Just Monday

It's Monday.

Which means a couple of things.

One, even though I'm still on summer break M and 190 others friends claim they are not. Which somehow seems unfair because I love staying up late watching old black and white movies and sleeping till 930am. Leaving the house at 630am seems sort of like a cruel punishment. Seems? No it is!  But someone else has other plans for me...that someone leads the band.  Yep, marching band is back in full swing.  Sure M's been spinning her flag and rifle like there is no tomorrow since the first part of June--today marks the beginning of full band.  This means up early, fighting the campus construction, parents and teenage drivers on the high school lot. For M it means up early, out in the heat and humidity all day, working towards the same goal as her 190 friends, coming home to be crabby by 7pm and in bed by 9pm dreaming of bandwiches and marching down Pasadena's Colorado Blvd.  

Second, as mysteriously as the Klopek's came and went so comes our new temporary neighbors...we'll call them "frat boys".  Although we are not sure how many boys fill the house we are certain by the cars parked in the driveway and on the street that there will be many.  King Ralph is walking around instructing the girls not to talk to the "frat boys" or even look there way. Protective father, oh-brother.  I have a feeling landlord has let it be known that those of us who bookend the ole' mysterious rental house are not all that fond of our revolving neighbors.  I have a feeling I may have more to share about the "frat boys"...time will tell.  I'm thinking it's gonna be an Animal House this go around.   

Now, since Mondays mean really only one thing around this female dominating house, The Bachlorette (cause there is nothing better than cheesy-trashy-head-shaking-love-seeking-mini-porn reality televison), I must part way.

Until later....            

Funny Things Get Heard on the Way Through Parenthood

The girls like to keep us laughing and turning our hairs grey...of course we wouldn't have it any other way.

Here's a few weekend moments. 

-I love it when King Ralph is doing something so neandrathal like and M says
"you married that, I was born into it."  Either way you look at it we are stuck with it.


-I love it when I am in a deep parent/teenager conversation of lesson taught/learned and D walks in and immediately looks at me, interrupts by saying, "ooooo mom you need to color your hair."  Everyone of these grey hairs is like a badge I earned. Some nearly scream Olympic gold medal. 

-I love getting in Princess A's car to find her latest musical selection is the late Frank Sinatra. Listening to what comes out of her car speakers is like a Cracker Jack surprise--one day it is disgusting rap, the next great classic rock and then today....   

Just a few reasons I absolutely love being a mom, their mom.

How I Met My Daughter's Roommate

There is some reality TV shows that I just have to draw the line at watching--Toddlers & Tiaras is one of those. I blame it on Jon Benet Ramsey who's passing brought spotlight to the world of little people beauty pageantry. A world of pint sized babes with over lacquered hair, pancaked make-up, spray on tans, fake teeth called flippers and Little Miss Sunshine talent moves.

Last November Princess A's long time college roommate withdrew from school due to a serious medical condition. She went quite a long while living the private dorm room life. If you can't have the roommate you love and adore than sleeping single in a double room was the cat's meow.

Until...

"Miss America" moved in.

Well, not literally Miss America, more like Missouri Miss Teen International. Not one of those authentic titles either; it's one of those titles you purchase with an over priced pageant entry fee. "Miss America" was Princess A's roommate from hell. She would never take the trash out and when suggested would ask how to perform such a task. Making a bed...another task that offered challenge, requiring a lesson (but not given more than an eye roll of "really") . The saving grace was "Miss America" was hardly a permanent resident of the room. I often visited Princess A at college, with it being only a hundred miles away, and never once did I meet the illusive roommate. Not once.

Now I know why.

I was out last night and received a call I answered to a screeching voice that was near inaudible. It turns out "Miss America" made her debut on Toddlers & Tiaras. She is a pageant coach, has her own home run business complete with a pageant practice room. OMG! "Miss America" was responsible for several of these pint sized beauty babes trying to attain a "supreme title" in some small town here in Missouri. And double OMG that I actually sat to watch my first (and last) episode of this absolutely ridiculous reality show laced with mom's who appear to have missed out on what they probably see as their long desired opportunity to a sparkling crown, satin sash and a title of there own.

While King Ralph and I were meeting the roommate for the first time, Princess A's cell phone was ringing and buzzing with text coming in from sorority sisters. All the while I just sat there shaking my head saying seriously.

So while we never got to meet and greet the roommate at least know we know what she was up. She was busy enhancing the world with fabricated beauty.

Add Another Candle to the Cake

His age fluctuates depending, he says, on how the teenagers behave and their ability to drive him totally crazy.

Some days he is 51 and some days he claims to be 65.

Today we'll stick with celebrating you turning fifty-one.

I am of the belief that living in a house of female domination keeps you youthful.

Happy Birthday honey!

Please Daddy Not Dodge City

Since King Ralph has a vague resemblance to Chevy Chase he had this idea that we should retrace a few of the Clark Griswold's steps from his Lampoon Vacation. Mainly a visit to Dodge City.

Rewind with me.

A week before we left I had made my weekly call to my Grandma who told me she had been to Dodge City and had nothing positive to say about it; pretty much dogged any hope it had. I decided to hold this information to myself as I didn't want to spoil a vacation stop King Ralph had visions for. Especially after I convinced the family to take that detour to the Oz Museum to see scary mannequins impersonating characters from the Wizard of Oz...I figured I should keep my mouth shut. Only fair I have an imprinted horror vision of a poorly recreated western city imprinted on my mind since King Ralph is left with this Dorothy: Then as we sprawled out in our spacious Marriott room the girls began questioning Dodge City. Before we know it we were ending our trip on a near Clark Griswold location. Not Wallyworld but Worlds of Fun in Kansas City.

After a day of centrifugal force on the brain from high velocity roller coasters and constant spinning in circles from crazy amusement park rides--it was home to good ole'St. Louis.

In the Rapid Sunshine Before Demi Spilled Over

Click on the title for a peek into our white water trip on the Royal Gorge.

The Destination That Never Happened

We left Mesa Verde with the car set in the direction of the Great Sand Dunes National Park. As we drove along the rain started to fall more and more. As we approached the GSDNP the mountains were draped in rain clouds so thick that the mountains were invisible. I had been checking the weather from my cell phone for a few days and what was to be great sunny days in the eighties was now offering days with thunderstorms and temperatures in the low seventies/high sixties [for the day time hours]. We quickly decided on a change of plans. We figured with two days rain five grown people in a pop-up camper would offer little long term harmony. We then came to the conclusion we had no choice but to forfeit our prepaid $28 in camp fees.

Where to go to now? We threw around some ideas. The idea of heading to Colorado Springs and taking in the Rocky Mountain National Park again was one idea. It was our favorite hiking when we last visited Colorado in 2007. Good thing we didn't as we heard on the radio the next morning the park had roads closed due to snow. Snow in July? That snow, cold front, from the Rockies was putting a rainy chill all around. In the end we ended up at a Marriott in Pueblo we Pricelined.

You would have enjoyed the sight of us in the parking lot. Since this hotel was in the downtown historic area of Pueblo we didn't have a large parking to maneuver the camper around in. Nor did we have a dark area behind the building to open the camper and retrieve pajamas and clean clothes. There we were in the front of the building with the camper opened 2 feet and the bed ends pulled just enough to access clothing. Princess A and a flashlight stuffed through the crack reacting to commands--clean underwear, black shorts, pajamas....

Then we entered what felt like a palace--the hotel room. We were missing a national park we so wanted to see, but we had to see a plus in this. We were missing BBQ and marshmallows roasted over a camp fire...but all this space and cable TV was like champagne and caviar. No one was fighting the rain to set up camp. Instead fighting about who was sleeping on the floor.
Until...

We headed to bed when Princess A had to remind us that our toothbrushes were sealed tight inside the camper. King Ralph asked if his black bag was in the room and we said yes. He smiled and said "I got my toothbrush." Well, girls we have floss and gum. If Jessica Simpson can get away with only brushing her teeth twice a week we could manage a toothpaste mouthwash, floss and peppermint gum for a day.

With one change we decided to make another change. And, we wer off to...

Mesa Verde National Park

My good friend emailed me today and asked if we had a national park passport. Funny thing is we looked at the passport in the Mesa Verde Far View Visitor Center; I commented we should have bought one back in 2007 when we visited our first national park:Badlands. Oh well, live and learn. So after a short 40 mile drive from Durango to Mesa Verde we realized we were back in a desert region. We stopped to take our usual entrance sign snap shot and found grandparents who were also snapping a photo with there great-grand kids for a keepsake. We shared snapping each other's family souvenir photos. We set up camp. Toured some of the no ticket necessary cliff dwellings before returning to camp to grill steaks and roast marshmallows for S'mores.

We woke in the morning to M complaining she had a stomach ache. Please no, we had tickets for Long House and Cliff Palace. Before we knew it M was experiencing a case of the 24-hour flu. If there was an orifice something was expelling from it. King Ralph felt like this history adventure was more meaningful to me so he wanted me to go with Princess A & D for the tours. I wanted to do one tour, he the other. We made a sick bed in the "way back" of the swagger wagon for M and he stayed with her while the three of us toured Long House. When I got back he told me M had gotten sick again. By the time we got to Cliff Palace he still wanted me to go and him to stay with M. I couldn't change his mind. M hadn't gotten sick in a while and I was able to get her drinking Gatorade. When we got back from the tour I told King Ralph that he could see Cliff Palace from an overlook. He walked slowly with M, who was tearful at missing all this history (her favorite subject in school), for a quick look at Cliff Palace. Truly an amazing sight and perplexes the modern mind in question as to why anyone would want to live in the cliffs.
With M starting to perk back up I made the suggestion we get tickets to Balcony House for the next day 9am tour. That would allow M to experience a cliff dwelling up close and us get back to the camper to pull out on time. I originally didn't want to do Balcony House because of the height. I have this thing, fear, with going up in an area with no safety boundaries. But, for M, anything. When I stopped in the Far View Visitor Center to purchase tickets Princess A and D turned in the Junior Ranger booklet. It was a mission now to achieve Junior Ranger status every place we went. Sadly I told them at Arches we didn't have the time. I took M's oath for her by proxy and later after rehydrating with Gatorade and a wheat bread chaser, presented her with the official plastic ranger badge. To celebrate I believe they sang Colors of the Wind to there Disney CD of favorite tunes. I know, I know, wrong era of Indian but an Indian tribute song nonetheless. Besides King Ralph was starting to go crazy from them singing all those Disney tunes...for some reason a house of girls finds pleasure in aggrevating the only man in the house.

When M woke in the morning she was feeling pretty good. We closed up camp, had the camper sitting there waiting for us to return to hook up and tow away.

Balcony House had it's height for me--tall ladders. Sure my heart beat fast which made breath a bit harder, voices kept saying "are you okay mom"...in the end I am so glad I experienced the dwelling with M. I was okay all the way through. Of course King Ralph couldn't visit the dwelling without the girls snapping his photo as he crawled through the tight entry squares. I know M was glad she felt well enough to experience a cliff dwelling for herself and not have to say she saw Mesa Verde from the back seat of the swagger wagon.

Before we drove out of the park we stopped and took showers. At Mesa Verde the showers are free, an offer unheard of in a national park that offers showers. Oh ya, they have free Wifi in the laundry room and the camp store--at a national park?!

On our drive we passed another continental divide--The Great Divide. No one was in company at the sign to capture our family photo so King Ralph snapped a girls only picture. It was cold at 10,000 feet and the rain was beginning to fall. This marks continental divide number six for us.

Then it was off to the Great Sand Dunes National Park...or so we thought.

Silverton-Durango

It was time to move little camper in the woods. We were off to Silverton-Durango; looking forward to a hot running water shower. Since the Black Canyon of the Gunnison has to haul there water in from Montrose we didn't get the usual comfort stations where you could deposit your gray water as we have in other national parks. We used our gray water from doing dishes to put out campfires at night. Which means washing hair was out of the question. Two days of dusty hair was hidden under hats and a scrubbing was in order. As beautiful as the drive was it was also a bit stressful pulling the camper up the steep, sometimes no guard railed highway; with the swagger wagon towing ever slowly up the mountain. Only a panoramic camera would have served justice in snapping a photo of remembrance of the Switzerland of America. The vision of that drive is stored in my memory as a happy place to go when I need it. Unbelievable beauty of peace and tranquility.


When we got to Silverton, a cute little western gold mine town with a mountain top cool temperature, full of folk getting off the narrow gauge train-- we talked to a local who recommended The Bent Elbow to us for lunch. Yummy. Great home cooked meals of hearty helpings at pocket change prices. The bread pudding with whiskey sauce we shared for dessert was delectable! King Ralph took a taste and said "grandma likes her whiskey". You could almost cop a buzz off that bread pudding. Oh-my-gosh thinking about it makes me hungry for it. We were so preoccupied with the thought of showers we forgot to do the Old Hundred Gold Mine Tour we intended while passing through. Oh well.


We headed down to Durango to a campground that had no Woodall's listing, no Internet site for preview...it was the only campground with Fourth of July availability between Silverton and Durango. When I made the reservation with the old broad I told her I was rolling in there on a wing and prayer. Cottonwood Camper Park needs lots of prayers. WHAT A DUMP! I admit I am a campground snob. I want all the amenities of a hotel with the beauty of nature's surrounds. King Ralph seriously sat there and said "this place is a resort--a last resort". Once we managed to maneuver around the ruts in the dirt ground of our site that resembled four-wheeling tracks we set up our home on wheels and headed to the showers. Suitable shower house...that is my only compliment, because it was then that we realized that our site backed to a dog kennel. Dogs barking 24/7 with the fresh aroma of warm Colorado dog crap in the air. I immediately took the laptop to the bathroom (b/c that was only place you could get Internet reception in the dive) and got numbers of area campgrounds hoping for a cancellation and an open, available spot. Jesus loves me because I found one and the next morning we packed up in record time. Happiness was restored.

After checking in and setting up camp at the charming campground with the Silverton-Durango Narrow Gauge running through it, we decided to rent inner tubes and float the Animas River for the day. If D could handle a bounce into a Class V rapid we figured we were game for tubes in Class II rapids. Water was like an ice bath. Once we finished the float the barefoot-dreadlocks- facial-pierced-crazy-eyed-hippie at the rafting joint told us to take the trolley back to the location of our car. We wanted to wait while King Ralph took the trolley since the girls were in their bikini's but he convinced us that the trolley stop was just "right there". Right there was not "right there". The girls traipsed some near mile down a busy road with boys howling and whistling at them, me laughing so hard I was peeing my pants only to have the trolley conductor tell us "no bikinis on the trolley". Dam that hippie and King Ralph for doing that to us. The thing about family vacations is that it forever imprints moments of great laughter on us--and this was one of those.

Once we got cleaned up we headed into the historic area of Durango for the Fourth of July parade of promoting politicians (thank you Tiffany Lee for the vote for me chapstick), listened to the band playing for the street dance and ate at a fun Mexican restaurant with great salsa and strong margaritas. We bought candy treats from a chocolate shop for dessert before finding a curb to perch upon for the firework display. Great fireworks Durango! Some of the biggest fireworks I have ever seen and several that shot all the way to Mars before blasting an umbrella of colors that engulfed the sky.
(See the American flags in the hands of M & Princess A?...the say "Made in China". What the heck is our country come to when we can't even wave our flag produced in our own country when celebrating our independence?)

Thanks Silverton & Durango for your hospitality we had a great time.

Next stop Mesa Verde.

Arches National Park

So none of you were up to the "Just a Tease" challenge...afraid of a failed guess?

The answer: Arches National Park in Moab, Utah

King Ralph and I didn't tell the girls our plan--, just to hop in the car with hiking gear. With Arches only 171 miles from the Black Canyon it seemed crazy not to live on the side of spontinaity and go for a bit of unplanned adventure. I needed to hike more to keep my strained muscles warm and moving from the strenous canyon hike and Arches seemed like the place to do that. We packed a picnic lunch and off we went for the day.

Arches National Park is a place I have always wanted to visit. I was so glad we decided to go, not knowing if we would ever be out that way again. Boy was it hot there! Dry, desert heat. For a girl, a family, who lives with high humidity at 300 feet above sea level; we could feel our skin screaming for the morning dew that usually rest on ground and not the dry oppressive heat at an elevation of 5700 feet that had us all guzzling water. However that feeling of the heat disappeared when we looked at the spectacular beauty of the sandstone arch formations--Ancient Sand Dunes, Windows, Landscape, Double Arch....




Another national park add to our list. Another great and fun family vacation day!

Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park

We woke on the morning of June 30th to take our last coin operated 7-minute shower (which you have no idea how long 7 minutes can be; a longggg time) before we headed up higher into the mountains to a semi primitive world. Sure we had electric, a definite bonus for using a heater at night...but no running water, flush toilets or showers. Who could complain when nature's surround was spectacular!

As we headed up the mountain we passed through the Gunnison and San Isabel National Forests and crested at the Monarch Pass Continental Divide-- 11,312 feet. Burrrr it was cold, majestic and a great potty stop. I believe at this point we have crossed five continental divides in our travels over the years.

We arrived at the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park; our nation's newest park to the national park system. One of the national parks that I don't think gets the visitorship that it deserves. A canyon of huge proportion and beauty. (this photo was self timed and Princess A bolted across the road before it took)

When we checked out the visitor center the ranger offered D a chance to earn her Junior Ranger badge. The challenge came with not the usual plastic ranger badge but a glow in the dark patch. This Junior Ranger program was the "Night Explorer". Princess A and M upon hearing of D's invitation to earn the prestigious badge read that it was available to those "10 and up". BINGO! That meant a 20-year old and a 17-year old were geared up to be part of the "dark wars" too. We attended Ranger Randy's--a man of serious dry humor-- program and learned lots about the night sky and that we "are all made of star dust". Before we left the park for our next destination the girls met Irm, a volunteer ranger, who not only graded their Jr. Ranger booklet thoroughly; she did a fantastic swearing in ceremony. Here you have it three "Night Explorers" of the Black Canyons of the Gunnison National Park.

As hiking is always in some way a part of our national park vacations we decided to try a more difficult hike-- a canyon hike. Yes-sir-ree, one mile down with an incline of 1800 feet. I acquired the necessary permit, we all got the explanation speech of the hike and were informed that some say it is harder and more difficult than hiking one of the many fourteeners in Colorado. I figured we tackled Pike's Peak so we could do this. Ha! Well Ha! for me. The rule was if one in the group felt they needed to turn back it meant the whole group had to turn back. I don't know how many times I used the phrase "I'm sorry", but apparently enough times that King Ralph told me to stop apologizing. You do feel bad when everyone else feels capable and you don't. However my muscles were giving out, the boulder fields began to feel more unstable under my footing and the idea of having to pull myself up that 80-foot metal link chain was haunting my thought of body weakness. The ranger asked me when I stopped if I still having fun and felt pleasure in making it 58% of the way down. I said yes, I stopped before it felt like misery. It was without a doubt the hardest, steepest, most challenging hike up I will have ever attempted. I can say that at the point I stopped I saw a most majestic and spiritual view of the Gunnison River emerging through the canyon walls feeling the mark of God's wonderful earthly creation. What was really cool as I took a break after climbing back up the 80-foot chain a mule deer saw the girls farther up the incline but not King Ralph and I, he got to us froze in shock of a human in arms reach, stood for a good twenty seconds and then bolted down that incline with lightening speed.

So we all went 2.5 days without a real shower; just boiled water for sponge baths, campfires and roasted marshmallows, singing songs together like we were the Gorneky's, dancing on the astro turf rug like we were in Saturday Night Fever, waiting and watching for that 18-month old male black bear roaming the campground to appear (which was always a miss for us)...in other words we had a great time in the Black Canyon connecting as family we are.

Just to Tease

Because sadly we have been chased by rain --and clouds so low they hide the mountains-- from our intended destination, The Great Sand Dunes National Park, to the Marriott Pueblo...I leave you with a picture to tease.For the first person who can name where we are gets a drink, purchased by me.

Royal Gorge Rapids and Bishop's Castle

Daily chores do not elude even when on the road; so I sit this morning in a laundry room hogging five machines. I guess when it is barley six o'clock it is hardly hogging, most sensible folk are still sleeping. But we are on the move again today, so it is a chore that is a priority. Also a good time to have some peace and blog.

Now I am sure you are wondering about our adventures....

On our second day in Canon City we took to the white waters of the Arkansas River. We have rafted the river before but not the Royal Gorge- Class V rapids. We agreed as a family after several white water experiences that we were ready to tackle the fast moving waters. D admitted to us and our guide to being a little scared but was ready for the challenge. We rafted the calmer rapids early in the day, stopped for a great lunch that the guides prepared for us and then back in the water were we warmed up a bit in preparation for the big Class V rapids. We tackled the rapid named "sunshine" fine...then let me give it to you in the words the guide gave D in case she has to write a "what I did on my summer vacation" paper...we were teeing up ready to make the bird bomb on the sledgehammer.... Okay this is the part in the adventure were we had to A. put all the safety talk into play B. let my mother's heart calm and follow those safety directions C. control King Ralph from his innate being to always be in emergency response mode--you can take the cop away from the job but can't take the cop out of him. As the raft hit the rapid known as sledgehammer I looked to the right side of the raft directly opposite D on the left side and watched my baby bounce up and over the raft. The guide screams calmly directions and for King Ralph to sit down, as he was ready to jump in and save his little girl from the rushing waters. Safety lesson number one is don't jump in after someone, then the guide is saving two. We are all yelling at King Ralph to follow the paddle commands: forward paddle, stop, back paddle stop, right side paddle forward, stop. All the while I see my baby in that rapid head up assuming the white water position and her eyes open wide as a saucer. D said her first instinct was to swim till she saw large rocks then remembering the safety talk she flipped to her back, arms stretched out to paddle. In those 40 seconds that felt like forever our guide Brady directed D back to the raft where he and King Ralph grabbed the shoulder straps of her life vest and pulled her back in. Her eyes remained saucers for a few more minutes. We paddled to the bank so everyone could calm the nerves. When D was asked if she felt the shock of the cold water as she went over board she said she felt nothing, only thing on her mind was to stay clear of the rocks. Woooshhhh smart thinking. Later she said she was praying the whole time in the boat to God to keep her in the boat and safe. I replied to her that God answered her prayer, maybe not the in the keep in the boat part but the safe part. Safe is answered in different ways--in this case being pulled safely from the rapids was the answer God gave.

And, in the end, D says she would raft the gorge again.

So assume we had a blast. We did. Have a blast.

Then it was onto a bit of roadside America. I had found Bishop's Castle on roadsideamerica.com before we left town, suggesting we visit and see this construction wonder for ourselves. After a drive through the San Isabel National Forest, which was absolutely beautiful, we came to a sea of cars lining the roadside and crazyville. Cra-zee-ville I tell you! Mr. Bishop's castle is two parts: one part construction marvel (no blue prints required just vision) and one part insane man. While I navigated the shady construction, at times questioning my safety...oh ya when you sign his guest book it is to stand as a waiver that you are basically agreeing if you fall through his rod iron welded balconies you won't sue (which I didn't sign since he was out of paper in his tablet and ink in his pen)...I decided I had to turn back. My fear of heights without safety boundaries came into play and I felt my heart beating. I had already had enough excitement for one day. The rest of the family ventured to the top scaling the shady construction job and rang the bell. As they scaled and explored the top portion of the castle I stood center castle on a wood plank floor listening to crazy man Mr. Bishop rant to visitors about our president and secretary of state. He used colorful language. Language that was unfit for young ears and offensive to grown ears. He has personally designed signs stating his political standings on paying taxes, the unlawful need for a driver's license, and my favorite was the signs that left the "r" and "d" off of Republican and Democrat and replaced with symbols. In the case of Republican the "r" was replaced with a swastaca. I may be a registered Republican but I ain't no Nazi! I promise you that, Mr. Bishop!! We strolled his gift shop which offered a sampling of mood rings and plastic Viking helmets...'cause every castle has a Viking (and every Viking ship has a princess).... Roadside America, gotta love'r.

And so ended June 29 and a wonderful stay in Canon City and the Royal View Campground.

Pause

Yesterday was a day full of adventures. Adventures that offer good stories. However I need photos to tell these stories of adventures and I had to much laundry to mess with anything else.

Be patient with me, because tomorrow we are going primitive. Well, we'll have electricity but that's it. No water-- we'll haul that in with us. No showers-- I'll prepare boiled hot water sponge bathing basins for the family at night after hiking. Hopefully we will enter into a world where there isn't a fire ban so we can sing silly songs while roasting marshmallows.

Until then....

(Feel free to be jealous, especially of the no available showers)