it's two...
Two...
Two hits in one!
We hit the snap-trap jackpot today, ladies and gentlemen.
It's time to buy more traps.
Because two of the traps in the garage have served their purpose.
In one, the mother of all rats.
The trap was instantaneous. It cut her across the top of her head, and I had to mop up brain splatter. It was like a little bit of CSI.
In the other. The mother of all mice. This one was more traditional, getting Minnie across the neck and breaking it cleanly. I'm certain that neither of them suffered, and went straight to rodent heaven with the delectable scent of peanut butter on their breath.
My only concern now is that I didn't get everyone in this barrage. You see, both rodents were mommy rodents.
I wonder where the bambinos are.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Saw the Rat
Last night, after supper, I went upstairs to do a bit more reading in my Italian Fairy Tales book (Italo Calvino. What a writer!), and seeing as the Fairy Tale book is in the ensuite bathroom, you can guess where I took my seat.
It would have been a nice relaxing read, were it not for the sudden sounds of rustling and scurrying that nearly made me jump out of my skin. JUST outside the wall of the shower. Or maybe just INSIDE the wall of the shower. Was that a rat on the roof? Or was it under the roof? Or was it... INSIDE OUR WALLS????
I raced downstairs, and let Ken know that my tiny bit of garage cleaning over the last 2 days had not dislodged the rat. I hadn't scared it enough to make it leave the comforts of our garage.
It was time to get serious about the garage vermin.
So we went out, and Ken and I tackled the stuff in the Rat Corner of the garage.
I'll admit it. I was just a girly-girl, and couldn't bring myself to go exploring in there by myself. I'll just live with the shame.
He was all burly-man, though, and wading into the rat-chewed boxes, pulling stuff out (wow, I forgot that we kept Nate's crib. It was back there in pieces. Fortunately, not chewed by the rat), and handing it to me to be swept down (if it had rat poops on it, or seed hulls (hmm, the rat had been busy). He was pulling stuff out, taking down piles of boxes, unearthing stuff we'd forgotten about when I saw it.
Out of the corner of my eye, and with the stealth of a jedi, it scurried past me without a sound.
Yikes.
I commend myself for not shrieking and jumping up onto the ladder's top rung.
Ken picked up a fire extinguisher. "Hmm, I could shoot this at the corner where he went. That would certainly give him something to think about."
"Yeah" I replied "But it would also make a great big mess on those shelves that he just scurried under."
Instead, Ken passed me the three traps that had been left by Clark Pest Control the last time we'd had a mouse. That was almost 3 years ago. Amazing how time flies when you're not infested with vermin. I baited them with peanut butter, and reset them, and Ken placed them along the path that we saw the rat take.
Fingers crossed!
It would have been a nice relaxing read, were it not for the sudden sounds of rustling and scurrying that nearly made me jump out of my skin. JUST outside the wall of the shower. Or maybe just INSIDE the wall of the shower. Was that a rat on the roof? Or was it under the roof? Or was it... INSIDE OUR WALLS????
I raced downstairs, and let Ken know that my tiny bit of garage cleaning over the last 2 days had not dislodged the rat. I hadn't scared it enough to make it leave the comforts of our garage.
It was time to get serious about the garage vermin.
So we went out, and Ken and I tackled the stuff in the Rat Corner of the garage.
I'll admit it. I was just a girly-girl, and couldn't bring myself to go exploring in there by myself. I'll just live with the shame.
He was all burly-man, though, and wading into the rat-chewed boxes, pulling stuff out (wow, I forgot that we kept Nate's crib. It was back there in pieces. Fortunately, not chewed by the rat), and handing it to me to be swept down (if it had rat poops on it, or seed hulls (hmm, the rat had been busy). He was pulling stuff out, taking down piles of boxes, unearthing stuff we'd forgotten about when I saw it.
Out of the corner of my eye, and with the stealth of a jedi, it scurried past me without a sound.
Yikes.
I commend myself for not shrieking and jumping up onto the ladder's top rung.
Ken picked up a fire extinguisher. "Hmm, I could shoot this at the corner where he went. That would certainly give him something to think about."
"Yeah" I replied "But it would also make a great big mess on those shelves that he just scurried under."
Instead, Ken passed me the three traps that had been left by Clark Pest Control the last time we'd had a mouse. That was almost 3 years ago. Amazing how time flies when you're not infested with vermin. I baited them with peanut butter, and reset them, and Ken placed them along the path that we saw the rat take.
Fingers crossed!
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Oh, rats!
Tomorrow is trash day. Trash day and recycling day.
So at 11pm, just as I'm thinking "time to pack it in for the day", Ken says "I'll just take out the trash", and this little voice in my head says "Hey! You've gotta get your money's worth out of that trash can! You're paying for a full can, you should toss out a full can!" so I go running around the house, finding a few more things to toss out, and making sure that the crisper drawers in the fridge actually contain things that are crisp and not mushy.
Just as the fridge door alarm is sounding, Ken calls from the garage.
"Hey, Kem. Come out here for a moment."
Whoopsie. What did I forget to do? Did he find a bill that I absent-mindedly put down on the shelf out there, and is consequently months overdue? Is the door to Homer standing wide open? (wouldn't be the first time).
Nope.
He just wanted to show me something in the recycling bin.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Oh, Mickey, you're so fine. You're so cute and uniformly grey, and you've got those great big trusting eyes, but I told you NEVER TO CALL ME AT HOME again. Ken asked me what he should do with it, and I suggested that we release him back into the wilds... across the street in the neighbour's hedge.
I was just patting myself on the back for only having two mice in our house in 7 years when I heard a noise.
And this wasn't any wee little cute Mickey-Mouse noise, either.
And that's when I saw it.
A turd the size of Mickey's head.
Now, either Mickey was one constipated field mouse, or we've got trouble.
Right here in River City.
With a capital T, and that rhymes with P and that stands for poop.
Rat poop.
And then I heard the noise again.
And then I squealed like a girl, and ran into the house.
Tomorrow morning, I'm putting on the rubber gloves and the steel-toed boots, and I'm cleaning out the corner of the garage. The one that had Rat Noises.
And when you hear the high-pitched shrieking? That'll just be me, screaming like a girl when Rat Boy runs over my foot.
*shudder*
Saturday, May 24, 2008
I can never guess the next obsession
Sometimes, Skip is an enigma.
An enigma wrapped in a mystery, to quote something that must've been said once, and was trapped forever in my brain.
And then other times, he may as well be wearing a sign that says "this is what I am thinking", because he's so easy to read.
Lately, I've been wondering what his next obsession will be.
He likes getting interested in something, and then CONQUERING it. It started when he was very young. I think he must've been around three. Ken told him that there were other planets, and that most of them had satellites around them that were Just Like Our Moon. And that was all it took. Skip became obsessed with the planets. I knew i was in for a bit of a challenge one morning over breakfast, when he asked me "Mom, what is your favourite moon?" and me, not knowing any better said "Full Moon", only to be met with the foreshadowing-of-teen-years eye rolling as he explained "No, I mean which MOON. Like... for example, Mars. Which Mars moon is your favourite? Phobos or Deimos?" (Ack. I just realized that I had NO idea what they were called, and had to Google them... and Skip had them in his brain when he was THREE)
Over the years, he's latched onto many topics, and conquered them one by one, insofar as he's been able to get his brain around them.
Last summer, it was Guitar Hero. Not exatly the Intellectual Pursuit of Champions, but he stuck with it like a terrier with a rat until he had five gold stars on every song.
Nothing's really captured his fancy lately (the four re-readings of Orson Scott Card's Ender series over the last month notwithstanding), so I was starting to be on the lookout for topics to toss his way, to see if anything stuck to him like velcro.
Then this weekend hit.
First, it was Friday evening's Weapons Seminar at Kung Fu.
Skip and weapons, Skip and weapons...
Go together like a horse and carriage...
Could this be the new obsession? Since the seminar, I've caught him going over the techniques in idle moments, even without weapons in his hands.
Also, this weekend is Kubla Con. It's something that Ken and Skip do together every year. I don't know that I'd call it an obsession, but Skip sure enjoys it. This year, he's decided that he's going to spend as much time as possible at the Con just painting miniatures (joy! More clutter!).
So with Ken and Skip away all day, I had the littles. We went to Kung Fu, then out for breakfast, then off to church to set up for Sunday (they were great helpers), and then off for lunch. The afternoon and evening were spent at a great barbecue party hosted by one of the Disneyland Chaperones. All the chaperones were there, AND the two band teachers. Most of them brought their families, but I was playing the role of single mom. It wasn't tough, though, because the kids were well taken care of by all the other kids (and some nice responsible high-schoolers), so it was just like I was out on my own, having fun with other grown ups.
We ate and ate and ate, and while we were eating and chatting, one of the dads had put together a slide show of all the photos taken on the tour, and they ran on the big-screen TV in the background. A couple of the dads had gone to Disney with EXCELLENT cameras, and now I have major DSLR camera lust. The photos were amazing. Truly amazing. I got to introduce Kelly and Nate to the two band teachers, who were very encouraging and warm, and made the kids WANT to pursue music, so they could have those teachers when it was THEIR turn to go to Middle School, and play in the band that got to go to Disneyland. While we were chatting, it happened to come up in conversation that Ken plays the Chapman Stick.
(ahem. No, this is NOT Ken)
Here's a wee video. (this is also not Ken)
Anyways, it's the sort of thing that, if Skip learned it, would be an EXCELLENT (there's the CAPS LOCK again. I'm in a rut) addition to the Jazz Band.
After the BBQ party, we met up with Ken and Skip at our favourite sushi place on the way home (they'd had enough of KublaCon for one day), and while we were noshing (yay! That makes two suppers on my plate tonight. I can just see the weight cascading off of me!) I mentioned to Ken and Skip that I thought playing the stick would be a great Jazz addition.
Ken agreed, and said that most good Stick players didn't start playing stick until they were in their 20s or 30s, and if Skip started at 13, and applied himself the same way he'd applied himself to Guitar Hero last summer, he'd easily be in demand and recordable in only a few years.
Skip got a far-away look in his eyes as he repeated "...recordable...?"
Oddly, I never thought of Skip as wanting the limelight, but he really seemed to catch a fire at the thought of being an in-demand musician on an obscure instrument. And it was as if I could see the gears churning inside his head.
We'd barely got home, and he went to work.
First, Ken gave a little demonstration.
And then Skip picked it up while Ken showed him the instruction manual.
Hmm.
Looks like it's only a matter of time...
Monday, May 12, 2008
A very merry Mother's Day
Yesterday morning, I didn't have to get out of bed right away when my alarm went off.
The kids shuffled around all quiet-like, and I laid there, slipping in and out of consciousness for half an hour before getting up and having a leisurely shower. Amazing. I didn't have to run around behind ANYONE doing the clap-my-hands-by-their-butt and saying "Hustle, we're going to be late". I did my hair, and makeup, and even put on a skirt before coming downstairs where the tantalizing smell of fresh baked croissants lured me with their siren-call scent.
And I saw this on the chalkboard in the kitchen.
...and this on the table
The croissants were gone before I could get a photo, though. You'll just have to imagine.
And imagine this! Without me running around hustling behind the kids, we ALL got to church early. Yes, it was a good morning. Ken got inducted/installed/whatever-you-call-it as an elder at church, making him officially "old", and was thoroughly embarrassed by all the great (and well-deserved) things that the board said about him.
After a nice lunch at home, the kids asked for some time at the local elementary school, so we loaded up the bikes, and off we went.
Nate tooled around on "the puny bike"
...and the Big Wheel.
While Skip rode around on Kelly's girly-girl bike.
I tell you, that kid just amazes me sometimes. Ken kidded Skip about taking a photo of him on Kelly's girly Hello Kitty bike, and then showing it to all his friends. His response? "Oh, you've gotta show it to Cole, but make sure you show it to him in front of all HIS friends, because HE is the one that gets embarrassed about stuff like this, not me." So true. Skip just is not swayed by the idiocy of peer pressure. Oh, he preens when the 8th grade guitar-genius acknowledges his presence in the jazz band, but other than that, he's not all kerfuffled about making sure 'I'm in the club!"
I should've been more like that when I was a kid.
Anyways. While they were riding around, I was finding a sheltered corner, to stay warm (oh, it was sunny, but the wind was really fierce) and knit.
Oh, it doesn't look like much now...
But when it's stretched out and blocked, it's gonna look a whole lot better.
And it's soft as but-tah.
Fun in the sun.
And after Skip got tired of the Hello Kitty bike, he went off to do Man Things.
Oh, there's a new art installation at the school. This year, the kids did self portraits. It was just a matter of finding Kelly's in the sea of faces. Hmm. The freckles gave her away.
And it was sunny, and the deer haven't found Kelly's little garden area yet, so the plants are still uneaten, and I have a lovely Mother's Day flower at home.
And if you look really closely in the flower? You see a leopard's head.
The kids shuffled around all quiet-like, and I laid there, slipping in and out of consciousness for half an hour before getting up and having a leisurely shower. Amazing. I didn't have to run around behind ANYONE doing the clap-my-hands-by-their-butt and saying "Hustle, we're going to be late". I did my hair, and makeup, and even put on a skirt before coming downstairs where the tantalizing smell of fresh baked croissants lured me with their siren-call scent.
And I saw this on the chalkboard in the kitchen.
...and this on the table
The croissants were gone before I could get a photo, though. You'll just have to imagine.
And imagine this! Without me running around hustling behind the kids, we ALL got to church early. Yes, it was a good morning. Ken got inducted/installed/whatever-you-call-it as an elder at church, making him officially "old", and was thoroughly embarrassed by all the great (and well-deserved) things that the board said about him.
After a nice lunch at home, the kids asked for some time at the local elementary school, so we loaded up the bikes, and off we went.
Nate tooled around on "the puny bike"
...and the Big Wheel.
While Skip rode around on Kelly's girly-girl bike.
I tell you, that kid just amazes me sometimes. Ken kidded Skip about taking a photo of him on Kelly's girly Hello Kitty bike, and then showing it to all his friends. His response? "Oh, you've gotta show it to Cole, but make sure you show it to him in front of all HIS friends, because HE is the one that gets embarrassed about stuff like this, not me." So true. Skip just is not swayed by the idiocy of peer pressure. Oh, he preens when the 8th grade guitar-genius acknowledges his presence in the jazz band, but other than that, he's not all kerfuffled about making sure 'I'm in the club!"
I should've been more like that when I was a kid.
Anyways. While they were riding around, I was finding a sheltered corner, to stay warm (oh, it was sunny, but the wind was really fierce) and knit.
Oh, it doesn't look like much now...
But when it's stretched out and blocked, it's gonna look a whole lot better.
And it's soft as but-tah.
Fun in the sun.
And after Skip got tired of the Hello Kitty bike, he went off to do Man Things.
Oh, there's a new art installation at the school. This year, the kids did self portraits. It was just a matter of finding Kelly's in the sea of faces. Hmm. The freckles gave her away.
And it was sunny, and the deer haven't found Kelly's little garden area yet, so the plants are still uneaten, and I have a lovely Mother's Day flower at home.
And if you look really closely in the flower? You see a leopard's head.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
About a deer
I was driving home from church last Sunday with the boys. (not yesterday. That was Mother's Day, and I was pampered like a queen). Anyways, Kelly had decided that she needed to go "on a date" with dad, so she was off with her father, doing some daddy-daughter bonding.
Everyone, say it with me. "Awwwwwww"
So I'm driving home, and we don't take the freeway (which is where we see deer All The Time, although they're usually just on the side of the road gorging themselves on the new grass), and it's uneventful except for the fact that Nate Will. Not. Stop. Talking.
We're on this sleepy little WIDE road heading back to the house. It's marked at 35mph, but lots of time folks just go slower (except for the idiot in the BMW X5 suv that insists on taking it at Indy500 speeds). And sometimes I think we live in the Twilight Zone, because I can drive the whole way home in my neighbourhood and not see a single person outside. But Sunday was different. There were folks out working in their gardens, and at least 3 people walking dogs.
Nate: "...And for my 6th birthday I want to go to Pump It Up, and I'm going to invite ALL my friends from school, and my Sunday School class, and maybe some friends that I can have when I go to Kelly's school next year, and then when I turn seven, I want to have a skating birthday party, and we'll go to the place by the big Target and the Red Robin, and ..."
Seriously, I had one ear on him, one ear on the radio, and I was looking at the people on the street thinking "I really have to do something about my front yard, because we're starting to look like the Trailer Park family on the street" when I noticed that there was actually a DEER chomping down on the garden of one of my neighbours. And there were All These People all around her, too, and she was just STANDING there, chewing on something that was probably WAY expensive, and newly planted, when
SUDDENLY!
That stupid deer BOLTS from my right. Just BOLTS, I tell you!
Not even enough time for Nate to stop in his Birthday Monologue.
I did slam on the brakes, though, and it was ALMOST enough. The deer clipped off of my front bumper right at the driver's corner. So she ALMOST made it past me. But it was enough of a hit to knock her back legs out from under her, and make her cartwheel across the road and end up on her back against the sidewalk, with her legs twirling in the air, like a turtle on her shell. Funny, if it wasn't so traumatic. I should've had the camera.
I was pleased to see her finally right herself, and go sproinging off into the bushes (wild space on that side of the road) but I was still thinking "oh crap! I've got a crumpled car to deal with" as I slowly... SLOWLY... drove the rest of the way home.
But you know what? Homer must be the incredible self-healing machine, because there was Not A Scratch on him. Although as I went over him with a fine toothed comb, I did noticed that there is a TINY scrape on the back corner where I took out a Honda Accord in the gymnastics parking lot last year. But not even a smudge from where I took down Bambi's mother.
Everyone, say it with me. "Awwwwwww"
So I'm driving home, and we don't take the freeway (which is where we see deer All The Time, although they're usually just on the side of the road gorging themselves on the new grass), and it's uneventful except for the fact that Nate Will. Not. Stop. Talking.
We're on this sleepy little WIDE road heading back to the house. It's marked at 35mph, but lots of time folks just go slower (except for the idiot in the BMW X5 suv that insists on taking it at Indy500 speeds). And sometimes I think we live in the Twilight Zone, because I can drive the whole way home in my neighbourhood and not see a single person outside. But Sunday was different. There were folks out working in their gardens, and at least 3 people walking dogs.
Nate: "...And for my 6th birthday I want to go to Pump It Up, and I'm going to invite ALL my friends from school, and my Sunday School class, and maybe some friends that I can have when I go to Kelly's school next year, and then when I turn seven, I want to have a skating birthday party, and we'll go to the place by the big Target and the Red Robin, and ..."
Seriously, I had one ear on him, one ear on the radio, and I was looking at the people on the street thinking "I really have to do something about my front yard, because we're starting to look like the Trailer Park family on the street" when I noticed that there was actually a DEER chomping down on the garden of one of my neighbours. And there were All These People all around her, too, and she was just STANDING there, chewing on something that was probably WAY expensive, and newly planted, when
SUDDENLY!
That stupid deer BOLTS from my right. Just BOLTS, I tell you!
Not even enough time for Nate to stop in his Birthday Monologue.
I did slam on the brakes, though, and it was ALMOST enough. The deer clipped off of my front bumper right at the driver's corner. So she ALMOST made it past me. But it was enough of a hit to knock her back legs out from under her, and make her cartwheel across the road and end up on her back against the sidewalk, with her legs twirling in the air, like a turtle on her shell. Funny, if it wasn't so traumatic. I should've had the camera.
I was pleased to see her finally right herself, and go sproinging off into the bushes (wild space on that side of the road) but I was still thinking "oh crap! I've got a crumpled car to deal with" as I slowly... SLOWLY... drove the rest of the way home.
But you know what? Homer must be the incredible self-healing machine, because there was Not A Scratch on him. Although as I went over him with a fine toothed comb, I did noticed that there is a TINY scrape on the back corner where I took out a Honda Accord in the gymnastics parking lot last year. But not even a smudge from where I took down Bambi's mother.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Lemon Tart
My daughter, the little tart!
No, I mean my daughter made a big tart. A big lemon tart.
Shortbread crust. Yum.
But she opted to have no lemon zest in the tart. She didn't like how the little bits got in between the teeth. Le sigh.
Not that the omission of the zest made the tart last any longer, though.
Time=0:00
Time=0:01
(er, ok, so there were a few issues with the tart not having enough time to set. This thing was TOO good looking, though! We couldn't stay away.)
Time=0:02
Time=0:03
Yes, it was that good. It was lick-the-plate good.
But the boy, he needs the extra sustenance.
He's going up against the big guns.
While his sister plants her garden.
In other news, I have finished the SeaSilk shawl.
I still think I need to block it hard, but I don't know if the seaweed will hold a shape, or not.
I have moved on to a Haruha Scarf. No photos yet. I'm using some soft-as-a-baby-butt Alpaca that I bought last summer up in Canada. Or was it the summer before? Sheesh. I will NEVER make it through this stash.
In still other news, I have, this far, lost 1% of my body weight in the 8-week flab-to-fab challenge. I think that number would have been WAY higher if I hadn't fallen rather hard off the wagon when I *accidentally* bought a pound of chocolate chip cookie dough the other day. Oh well. I'm doing the special Mother's Day Kung Fu class at Skip/Kelly/Nate's academy tomorrow afternoon, so I'm hoping that I'll sweat off all that chocolatey goodness then.
And sweat off my 1/3 of THIS luncheon pleasure from yesterday:
As an aside: Did you know that you can get ANY three toppings on a banana split? You don't HAVE to go the Strawberry/Chocolate/Pineapple route. It's so freeing! Yesterday, we had Strawberry, Cherry, and MARSHMALLOW!!!!
Oh!
*swoons*
So you see, I *need* the Kung Fu class. Maybe a few hard jabs to the cellulite. And a swift kick to the jello-butt.
And maybe that'll knock some sense into me.
No, I mean my daughter made a big tart. A big lemon tart.
Shortbread crust. Yum.
But she opted to have no lemon zest in the tart. She didn't like how the little bits got in between the teeth. Le sigh.
Not that the omission of the zest made the tart last any longer, though.
Time=0:00
Time=0:01
(er, ok, so there were a few issues with the tart not having enough time to set. This thing was TOO good looking, though! We couldn't stay away.)
Time=0:02
Time=0:03
Yes, it was that good. It was lick-the-plate good.
But the boy, he needs the extra sustenance.
He's going up against the big guns.
While his sister plants her garden.
In other news, I have finished the SeaSilk shawl.
I still think I need to block it hard, but I don't know if the seaweed will hold a shape, or not.
I have moved on to a Haruha Scarf. No photos yet. I'm using some soft-as-a-baby-butt Alpaca that I bought last summer up in Canada. Or was it the summer before? Sheesh. I will NEVER make it through this stash.
In still other news, I have, this far, lost 1% of my body weight in the 8-week flab-to-fab challenge. I think that number would have been WAY higher if I hadn't fallen rather hard off the wagon when I *accidentally* bought a pound of chocolate chip cookie dough the other day. Oh well. I'm doing the special Mother's Day Kung Fu class at Skip/Kelly/Nate's academy tomorrow afternoon, so I'm hoping that I'll sweat off all that chocolatey goodness then.
And sweat off my 1/3 of THIS luncheon pleasure from yesterday:
As an aside: Did you know that you can get ANY three toppings on a banana split? You don't HAVE to go the Strawberry/Chocolate/Pineapple route. It's so freeing! Yesterday, we had Strawberry, Cherry, and MARSHMALLOW!!!!
Oh!
*swoons*
So you see, I *need* the Kung Fu class. Maybe a few hard jabs to the cellulite. And a swift kick to the jello-butt.
And maybe that'll knock some sense into me.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Toofs
Another Memory of France.
It was our last day at the Farmhouse. Over the course of the holiday, I'd mentioned how wonderful France had been, and how I felt like I was leaving a part of me behind, that I would have to return, and revisit at some later date. Sort of like "I left my heaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrt..... in San Fran.... cisco..."
Skip comes up to me...
"Mom...?"
.
.
.
.
.
.
...what? Agh! Thanks for sharing, son. He'd wrenched out a MOLAR!
So, Skip left his.... TOOTH... in France. Buried at the foot of a centuries-old rock wall.
I'm sure the wild boars have already dug it up, wondering what it is, and is it tasty.
Monday morning, as Nate is jumping out of Homer to dash (late again) down to his class, he suddenly turns to me with a surprised look in his eyes.
"Mom...? Where's my tooth?"
And sure enough, while he'd been showing me his wiggly tooth in the rear-view mirror on the drive down to school after dropping off Skip and Kelly, suddenly there was a space where Mr. Wiggly had been just moments before.
"Open your mouth, honey" I said through the driver's window (I'm trying NOT to get out of the car, so he'll be less late, and I'll be less late with my string of things that I have going on for the remainder of the morning).
And he opens his mouth, and there's NO blood, but there, stuck to his bottom lip is the remains of Mr. Wiggly.
Nate, apparently, is of the "Don't pull them out, let them fall out" school of tooth loss.
So I had him spit it out into my hand, and he ran off to class, all excited to have something to show off. His second lost tooth of the spring.
The boy, he grows up before my eyes.
Of course, I was much less nostalgic at midnight, when, having fallen into bed exhausted, and JUST gotten comfortable, I realized that Nate's tooth was sitting in a Tooth Box on his bedside table, and the Tooth Fairy better gird her loins and rise to the occasion with a suitable Second Tooth Endowment.
I only stubbed my toe twice on random boxes, and once on a doorway that I took at too acute of an angle in the dark.
Wednesday was Dentist Day for all three kids.
And it looks like this will be our Summer of Wallet Discontent as we make our way to the Orthodontist for not one, but TWO kids worth of teeth-management.
Skip, he's got this thing where his canine teeth are coming in twisted. If it was me? I'd say "Hey, that looks like it'll give you character", but I'm a wimpy-pants in front of Authority Figures, so when the dentist says "get him to an Orthodontist, and see what they can do for that, to fix his bite", I just meekly say "Yes, sir", and file it away as "another thing to do when I screw up the nerve to cold-call someone that I don't know"
And Kelly?
She's had this one wiggly tooth SINCE FRANCE! If she'd been brave, she probably could have pulled that sucker out and left it behind to keep Skip's molar company.
But she is a Fraidy Cat. Can't touch the tooth. It hurts! Or... it *might* hurt, more likely.
So we got to the dentist, and this tooth is hanging on by a thread and a prayer. SRSLY. And the beloved dentist says "Kelly, would you like me to extract that for you? I have numbing jelly, and you wouldn't feel a thing."
Who can say "No" to cherry flavoured numbing jelly? Not Kelly, that's for sure.
And apparently when you get a tooth take out at our dentist, he gives you this great little treasure chest box to put the tooth in.
Man, I didn't get that when *I* had my wisdom teeth taken out back in '85. All I got was a phone call a few weeks later telling me that my dentist had just been arrested, and was going to jail for what he'd done to patients while they'd been having oral surgery.
Joy.
But I'm getting better about my Tooth Fairy duties. This time, I remembered before midnight.
Barely.
And this time, it was Ken's turn to leave the duvet-covered, foot-warming sanctuary and find quarters to pile beside the child's bed.
It was our last day at the Farmhouse. Over the course of the holiday, I'd mentioned how wonderful France had been, and how I felt like I was leaving a part of me behind, that I would have to return, and revisit at some later date. Sort of like "I left my heaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrt..... in San Fran.... cisco..."
Skip comes up to me...
"Mom...?"
.
.
.
.
.
.
...what? Agh! Thanks for sharing, son. He'd wrenched out a MOLAR!
So, Skip left his.... TOOTH... in France. Buried at the foot of a centuries-old rock wall.
I'm sure the wild boars have already dug it up, wondering what it is, and is it tasty.
Monday morning, as Nate is jumping out of Homer to dash (late again) down to his class, he suddenly turns to me with a surprised look in his eyes.
"Mom...? Where's my tooth?"
And sure enough, while he'd been showing me his wiggly tooth in the rear-view mirror on the drive down to school after dropping off Skip and Kelly, suddenly there was a space where Mr. Wiggly had been just moments before.
"Open your mouth, honey" I said through the driver's window (I'm trying NOT to get out of the car, so he'll be less late, and I'll be less late with my string of things that I have going on for the remainder of the morning).
And he opens his mouth, and there's NO blood, but there, stuck to his bottom lip is the remains of Mr. Wiggly.
Nate, apparently, is of the "Don't pull them out, let them fall out" school of tooth loss.
So I had him spit it out into my hand, and he ran off to class, all excited to have something to show off. His second lost tooth of the spring.
The boy, he grows up before my eyes.
Of course, I was much less nostalgic at midnight, when, having fallen into bed exhausted, and JUST gotten comfortable, I realized that Nate's tooth was sitting in a Tooth Box on his bedside table, and the Tooth Fairy better gird her loins and rise to the occasion with a suitable Second Tooth Endowment.
I only stubbed my toe twice on random boxes, and once on a doorway that I took at too acute of an angle in the dark.
Wednesday was Dentist Day for all three kids.
And it looks like this will be our Summer of Wallet Discontent as we make our way to the Orthodontist for not one, but TWO kids worth of teeth-management.
Skip, he's got this thing where his canine teeth are coming in twisted. If it was me? I'd say "Hey, that looks like it'll give you character", but I'm a wimpy-pants in front of Authority Figures, so when the dentist says "get him to an Orthodontist, and see what they can do for that, to fix his bite", I just meekly say "Yes, sir", and file it away as "another thing to do when I screw up the nerve to cold-call someone that I don't know"
And Kelly?
She's had this one wiggly tooth SINCE FRANCE! If she'd been brave, she probably could have pulled that sucker out and left it behind to keep Skip's molar company.
But she is a Fraidy Cat. Can't touch the tooth. It hurts! Or... it *might* hurt, more likely.
So we got to the dentist, and this tooth is hanging on by a thread and a prayer. SRSLY. And the beloved dentist says "Kelly, would you like me to extract that for you? I have numbing jelly, and you wouldn't feel a thing."
Who can say "No" to cherry flavoured numbing jelly? Not Kelly, that's for sure.
And apparently when you get a tooth take out at our dentist, he gives you this great little treasure chest box to put the tooth in.
Man, I didn't get that when *I* had my wisdom teeth taken out back in '85. All I got was a phone call a few weeks later telling me that my dentist had just been arrested, and was going to jail for what he'd done to patients while they'd been having oral surgery.
Joy.
But I'm getting better about my Tooth Fairy duties. This time, I remembered before midnight.
Barely.
And this time, it was Ken's turn to leave the duvet-covered, foot-warming sanctuary and find quarters to pile beside the child's bed.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
...a world of hope!
Saturday.
Our last day at Disneyland.
Well, half-day, anyways. And we were heading to California Adventure, which had just been the "east parking lot" back when I'd last been at Disneyland in 1990.
I had my fingers crossed that I'd be able to get to Lost and Found (which was between the parks), and see if there was any chance that they'd found Skip's phone. I'd called it hourly, with no answer, until, around midnight, it had finally started going straight to voice-mail.
The last morning of tour was crazy. I had two of my girls being Early Released into the custody of their parents in the hotel lobby at 8am, and then the remainder of the girls to clear out of the rooms by 8:30. And we'd been late getting home from Disney the night before, and then there'd been All That Drama, so things hadn't settled down until well past midnight, so you can imagine that it was a little more than difficult to get the eight girls going once dawn broke.
There was chaos in the hotel lobby, and I lost track of one of my girls, so I decided to do what a Chaperone of the New Millennium would do, and just call her.
So I pulled out my phone, just as I felt it buzz. "You have One Missed Call"
Uh oh. Was that one of my girls calling me? I'd had HORRIBLE cell reception on the trip. I couldn't hear anything in the lobby, and at Disney I'd have more calls dropped than completed. I was wondering if it was just my cell (also new in the last week), but when I looked at the "Missed Calls" log, it was a call from a (714) area code.
Hmm. 714? Isn't that a Southern California number?
Double uh-oh. Is it the hotel, calling me about an issue with one of my girls? Did something happen in one of the rooms? Is there a body floating in the hotel pool?
(why yes, my mind does go EXACTLY there)
And then my phone buzzed with "New Voice Message: Listen now?"
I gritted my teeth, and prepared for the worst. My phone dialed my voicemail....
And I heard nothing... the lobby was too loud.
So I went outside onto the sidewalk. It was already nearly 90 degrees outside, but I found a cool spot under a palm tree. (Sorry, J-jumping. I couldn't resist rubbing it in JUST a little bit)
And the voice mail?
"Hello. This is Disneyland Resort. Do you have a child who has recently been at one of our parks, because we have recovered a cell phone. To claim the phone, or get more information about this, reference the following case number... bla bla bla..."
HALLELUJAH!
So after we made it to California Adventure at 10, when the park opened, I ushered all my girls through the turnstyles, set them loose in the park, and then went right back out through the exit (remembering to get a hand stamp), and headed over to the Lost and Found.
It once was lost, but now is found.
And Skip will be much more careful about where he puts it when he goes on bumpy adventure rides in the future.
Our last day at Disneyland.
Well, half-day, anyways. And we were heading to California Adventure, which had just been the "east parking lot" back when I'd last been at Disneyland in 1990.
I had my fingers crossed that I'd be able to get to Lost and Found (which was between the parks), and see if there was any chance that they'd found Skip's phone. I'd called it hourly, with no answer, until, around midnight, it had finally started going straight to voice-mail.
The last morning of tour was crazy. I had two of my girls being Early Released into the custody of their parents in the hotel lobby at 8am, and then the remainder of the girls to clear out of the rooms by 8:30. And we'd been late getting home from Disney the night before, and then there'd been All That Drama, so things hadn't settled down until well past midnight, so you can imagine that it was a little more than difficult to get the eight girls going once dawn broke.
There was chaos in the hotel lobby, and I lost track of one of my girls, so I decided to do what a Chaperone of the New Millennium would do, and just call her.
So I pulled out my phone, just as I felt it buzz. "You have One Missed Call"
Uh oh. Was that one of my girls calling me? I'd had HORRIBLE cell reception on the trip. I couldn't hear anything in the lobby, and at Disney I'd have more calls dropped than completed. I was wondering if it was just my cell (also new in the last week), but when I looked at the "Missed Calls" log, it was a call from a (714) area code.
Hmm. 714? Isn't that a Southern California number?
Double uh-oh. Is it the hotel, calling me about an issue with one of my girls? Did something happen in one of the rooms? Is there a body floating in the hotel pool?
(why yes, my mind does go EXACTLY there)
And then my phone buzzed with "New Voice Message: Listen now?"
I gritted my teeth, and prepared for the worst. My phone dialed my voicemail....
And I heard nothing... the lobby was too loud.
So I went outside onto the sidewalk. It was already nearly 90 degrees outside, but I found a cool spot under a palm tree. (Sorry, J-jumping. I couldn't resist rubbing it in JUST a little bit)
And the voice mail?
"Hello. This is Disneyland Resort. Do you have a child who has recently been at one of our parks, because we have recovered a cell phone. To claim the phone, or get more information about this, reference the following case number... bla bla bla..."
HALLELUJAH!
So after we made it to California Adventure at 10, when the park opened, I ushered all my girls through the turnstyles, set them loose in the park, and then went right back out through the exit (remembering to get a hand stamp), and headed over to the Lost and Found.
It once was lost, but now is found.
And Skip will be much more careful about where he puts it when he goes on bumpy adventure rides in the future.
Friday, April 11, 2008
...a world of tears...
(written Friday night... almost Saturday morning. Yes, very late. At Disneyland.)
(seriously. I wasn't going to use this as a title, but it's SO appropriate for today)
Nothing major, but just the 'We're too tired, and we were up late, and we didn't eat well, and we don't REALLY get along, but you're putting 4 of us in a room with 2 beds, and so we're a bit edgy and loopy, and where's the extra sodas' sort of tears that are bound to happen towards the end of a band trip.
OK, here are the tears, in no particular order.
Skip's cell phone fell out of his pocket on the Indiana Jones ride. He's pretty devastated. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening making trips back to the ride to see if a phone had been turned in.
One girl got sick while in line for Space Mountain. Because kids can't "fly solo" in the park, she phoned me to come get her. I ran across the park in 95 degree heat to go get her, and we walked back to the chaperone area where she laid down, and perked up after about an hour.
EVERY TIME I went on a "go and get Fast Passes for the kids" errand, I would BREAK the Fast Pass machine. OR the ride that I was getting Fast Passes for would suddenly SHUT DOWN. This happened not once... not twice... not THREE times... but FOUR TIMES!!!!! There is now a note in the Band Trip File that says "Do not EVER let Kemma Parker be in charge of getting Fast Passes. She is a JINX.
(I think that the note should have said "She is a MINX" but I wasn't asked.)
One girl got back spasms while running across the park so she wouldn't be late for her workshop. Another got a migraine. Two kids got minor sunstroke.
About a half hour before one important meet-up, three of the kids who were supposed to be in the workshop got stuck at the very top of the coaster when Space Mountain broke. One of the girls? Afraid of heights. She rides Space Mountain because she can't SEE how high she was. She had a panic attack when they had to WALK DOWN FROM THE TOP with the lights on. They were late to the workshop, but the Disney folks were accomodating while she breathed into a paper bag for a while.
We had four kids who played in two bands, so they played in one, then waited for the second band to take the stage. While they were waiting, the bus that contained ALL THEIR STUFF (apart from their tuxedo uniforms) drove away to be serviced, so they spent the rest of the day wearing a x-large Disney shirt (provided out of the goodness of the conductor's heart) over their tuxedo so they could be out in the park, as Disney management said that the boys could NOT be seen in the park in tuxedos, because they might be mistaken for park personnel. Oh, and the boys had to wear their oh-so-comfortable (not) black dress-up shoes, too.
One of the male chaperones never showed up for one of the back-stage events, so the trio of boys-who-should-have-been-left-behind were unchaperoned, and ended up mooning people who should not have been mooned. Let's just draw a curtain over the details of THAT mis-event.
Back at the hotel, after two kids got lost, and we ended up late by nearly an hour, I was just settling into the Chaperone Meeting when I got a call. "Um, Mrs. Parker? We're having sleeping arrangement issues up here. Can you come and help?"
Egads. So one of the girls is a bit of a fragile child. All well and good. But you don't play off her frailty, and make her dissolve into a bawling mess. On the flip side, special-needs girl? You need to grow a spine, and stop making everyone else do stuff for you that I'm pretty sure you can do for yourself. But I channeled the wisdom of Solomon, and then used my classic crowd-pleaser "Get along, and don't make me come back up here" line.
THEN! No sooner had I gotten back to the chaperone meeting (where I missed out on the beer/wine/foo-foo-drink ordering, and ended up with water), the phone rang again. This time the other room of girls, "Um, Mrs. Parker? I don't know what happened, but the toilet won't stop running, and it overflowed, and, um... what do we do?"
Excuse me, now, while I go cry myself to sleep.
Heh.
(seriously. I wasn't going to use this as a title, but it's SO appropriate for today)
Nothing major, but just the 'We're too tired, and we were up late, and we didn't eat well, and we don't REALLY get along, but you're putting 4 of us in a room with 2 beds, and so we're a bit edgy and loopy, and where's the extra sodas' sort of tears that are bound to happen towards the end of a band trip.
OK, here are the tears, in no particular order.
Skip's cell phone fell out of his pocket on the Indiana Jones ride. He's pretty devastated. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening making trips back to the ride to see if a phone had been turned in.
One girl got sick while in line for Space Mountain. Because kids can't "fly solo" in the park, she phoned me to come get her. I ran across the park in 95 degree heat to go get her, and we walked back to the chaperone area where she laid down, and perked up after about an hour.
EVERY TIME I went on a "go and get Fast Passes for the kids" errand, I would BREAK the Fast Pass machine. OR the ride that I was getting Fast Passes for would suddenly SHUT DOWN. This happened not once... not twice... not THREE times... but FOUR TIMES!!!!! There is now a note in the Band Trip File that says "Do not EVER let Kemma Parker be in charge of getting Fast Passes. She is a JINX.
(I think that the note should have said "She is a MINX" but I wasn't asked.)
One girl got back spasms while running across the park so she wouldn't be late for her workshop. Another got a migraine. Two kids got minor sunstroke.
About a half hour before one important meet-up, three of the kids who were supposed to be in the workshop got stuck at the very top of the coaster when Space Mountain broke. One of the girls? Afraid of heights. She rides Space Mountain because she can't SEE how high she was. She had a panic attack when they had to WALK DOWN FROM THE TOP with the lights on. They were late to the workshop, but the Disney folks were accomodating while she breathed into a paper bag for a while.
We had four kids who played in two bands, so they played in one, then waited for the second band to take the stage. While they were waiting, the bus that contained ALL THEIR STUFF (apart from their tuxedo uniforms) drove away to be serviced, so they spent the rest of the day wearing a x-large Disney shirt (provided out of the goodness of the conductor's heart) over their tuxedo so they could be out in the park, as Disney management said that the boys could NOT be seen in the park in tuxedos, because they might be mistaken for park personnel. Oh, and the boys had to wear their oh-so-comfortable (not) black dress-up shoes, too.
One of the male chaperones never showed up for one of the back-stage events, so the trio of boys-who-should-have-been-left-behind were unchaperoned, and ended up mooning people who should not have been mooned. Let's just draw a curtain over the details of THAT mis-event.
Back at the hotel, after two kids got lost, and we ended up late by nearly an hour, I was just settling into the Chaperone Meeting when I got a call. "Um, Mrs. Parker? We're having sleeping arrangement issues up here. Can you come and help?"
Egads. So one of the girls is a bit of a fragile child. All well and good. But you don't play off her frailty, and make her dissolve into a bawling mess. On the flip side, special-needs girl? You need to grow a spine, and stop making everyone else do stuff for you that I'm pretty sure you can do for yourself. But I channeled the wisdom of Solomon, and then used my classic crowd-pleaser "Get along, and don't make me come back up here" line.
THEN! No sooner had I gotten back to the chaperone meeting (where I missed out on the beer/wine/foo-foo-drink ordering, and ended up with water), the phone rang again. This time the other room of girls, "Um, Mrs. Parker? I don't know what happened, but the toilet won't stop running, and it overflowed, and, um... what do we do?"
Excuse me, now, while I go cry myself to sleep.
Heh.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
It's a world of laughter...
But not, apparently, a world of food.
At least, according to Skip.
Here we are, with such high hopes.
And, after searching around a bit, and realizing we have 10 minutes to get to the meeting point for the workshop, here's what he ends up with for lunch:
But look at this!!!!
Is that Skip...?????
On a cell phone...?????
I'd love to show you the workshop. Skip's band got to do some music cues for the soundtracks of some animated movies.... But...
Sorry... read the signs.
We went backstage to "make the magic", and we don't want to spoil it for anyone else.
No photos.
Waaah.
But you know, it's the ...
So after I finish up with today's day of a zillion dreams, I'll show you photos of Skip with the Yellow Knight.
At least, according to Skip.
Here we are, with such high hopes.
And, after searching around a bit, and realizing we have 10 minutes to get to the meeting point for the workshop, here's what he ends up with for lunch:
But look at this!!!!
Is that Skip...?????
On a cell phone...?????
I'd love to show you the workshop. Skip's band got to do some music cues for the soundtracks of some animated movies.... But...
Sorry... read the signs.
We went backstage to "make the magic", and we don't want to spoil it for anyone else.
No photos.
Waaah.
But you know, it's the ...
So after I finish up with today's day of a zillion dreams, I'll show you photos of Skip with the Yellow Knight.
Disneyland!
Greetings from the Happiest Place on Earth.
Of course, I had to get there on the Noisiest Bus on Earth.
Ouch.
And we've had great luck in the hotel. One of the rooms that I'm responsible for had a door lock that was broken, so instead of going to the Chaperone Meeting, I was chaperoning the hunky (according to my 14-year-old charges) hotel engineer (who is probably also young enough to be my kid, too. Ouch!) while he replaced the entire door mechanism on their room under the watchful eyes of four highly-interested 14 year old girls.
And I just got a call from the other room that I'm responsible for... while they were getting ready for bed, the faucet in the bathroom broke. Fortunately, they were all listening to me when I said "Under no circumstances apart from a general fire alarm, are you to open your door once I leave your room tonight. I will be taping you in, and there are serious consequences for anyone who has an untaped door in the morning. So they phoned me to come and get them. I was expecting to see Niagara Falls when I went into their bathroom, but it was something that I could jerry-rig, and I'll call maintenance in the morning.
Now I will fall into bed, so I can get up and make sure my girls are up at 6 to start their day tomorrow.
At Disneyland! The happiest place on earth. Chaperoned by the tiredest woman on earth.
Wheee! Never a dull moment.
Of course, I had to get there on the Noisiest Bus on Earth.
Ouch.
And we've had great luck in the hotel. One of the rooms that I'm responsible for had a door lock that was broken, so instead of going to the Chaperone Meeting, I was chaperoning the hunky (according to my 14-year-old charges) hotel engineer (who is probably also young enough to be my kid, too. Ouch!) while he replaced the entire door mechanism on their room under the watchful eyes of four highly-interested 14 year old girls.
And I just got a call from the other room that I'm responsible for... while they were getting ready for bed, the faucet in the bathroom broke. Fortunately, they were all listening to me when I said "Under no circumstances apart from a general fire alarm, are you to open your door once I leave your room tonight. I will be taping you in, and there are serious consequences for anyone who has an untaped door in the morning. So they phoned me to come and get them. I was expecting to see Niagara Falls when I went into their bathroom, but it was something that I could jerry-rig, and I'll call maintenance in the morning.
Now I will fall into bed, so I can get up and make sure my girls are up at 6 to start their day tomorrow.
At Disneyland! The happiest place on earth. Chaperoned by the tiredest woman on earth.
Wheee! Never a dull moment.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Off to the beach!
So once we'd walked through the wonderful little streets of Aigues-Mortes, and walked around the entire city on the battlements, it was mid-afternoon, and time for one last thing before heading back to the Chateau for supper.
Fortunately, Fred Junior had done a BUNCH of research before coming to France, and he had an idea about where to go on the way home.
And that's how we found ourselves heading out to la Grande Motte.
One of the ritziest pieces of real estate in the world.
At the end of the ritzy hotel/condo developments, there was this big stretch of unspoiled beach, and because it was so *brisk* outside, it was pretty empty as we all tumbled out onto the sand.
Oh yeah, it was cold, but hey! We'd come THIS FAR, we weren't going to let a little thing like hypothermia keep us from dipping our toes in the MEDITERRANEAN!!!
Everyone! Into the water!!!!
And then let's look to see what's in that beautiful sand.
So many shells!
Oh! And the sand dunes!
And that beautiful sky!
And the closer to the warm white sand you are, the warmer you can be.
The perfect end to the perfect sight-seeing day.
Oh yeah, and just for the record? On the way home from the Mediterranean? THIS is a 2-lane road. The MAIN DRAG:
Fortunately, Fred Junior had done a BUNCH of research before coming to France, and he had an idea about where to go on the way home.
And that's how we found ourselves heading out to la Grande Motte.
One of the ritziest pieces of real estate in the world.
At the end of the ritzy hotel/condo developments, there was this big stretch of unspoiled beach, and because it was so *brisk* outside, it was pretty empty as we all tumbled out onto the sand.
Oh yeah, it was cold, but hey! We'd come THIS FAR, we weren't going to let a little thing like hypothermia keep us from dipping our toes in the MEDITERRANEAN!!!
Everyone! Into the water!!!!
And then let's look to see what's in that beautiful sand.
So many shells!
Oh! And the sand dunes!
And that beautiful sky!
And the closer to the warm white sand you are, the warmer you can be.
The perfect end to the perfect sight-seeing day.
Oh yeah, and just for the record? On the way home from the Mediterranean? THIS is a 2-lane road. The MAIN DRAG:
If it's Monday, it must be Aigues-Mortes
(Monday, March 24, 2008)
The one problem with being a group of 18 people is that it's nearly impossible to get going in the morning. One person says "I'm ready to go" and then someone else says "I just need 5 minutes to do this one last thing", and someone else says "Great, I'll just get this little thing out of the way while you're doing that" and then another says "Oh, while if you're not ready, I'm going to take the trash down to the street" and before you know it, two hours have passed, and I'm ready to pull out my hair, having been up since 7am, re-stoked the fire, force-fed one picky nephew his eggs, hand-washed the blood-soaked shirt and sweater of Nate from his nose-bleed flight, and hung the wash out on the line, fed the animals, unpacked the kids' suitcases so they're easily accessible, scavenged firewood and twigs (for fire-starters), and knit five rounds on Ken's next pair of warm wool (but superwash, this time!) socks:
(Photo's out of order - this was taken on the train coming back from Amsterdam Centraal. Look! I pick milk that's 0% fat. I was quite worried that I'd accidentally picked up half-and-half until I took the first swig.)
But FINALLY, we headed away from the Chateau, and off on our 2 hour trek towards the Mediterranean.
First stop? In the empty parking lot (it's Easter Monday, after all) of a building supply store, so Skip could hurl up his guts. Yes! It's the Puking Vacationeers! (fortunately, after that one incident, Skip was fine for the rest of the trip. Kelly did spend a good chunk of time, though, with her fingers in her ears, JUST IN CASE Skip started yakking again)
And finally! After driving along all sorts of narrow roads that the GPS insisted were 'highways', we ended up at Aigues Mortes.
We got there just in time for lunch, so staked out a sheltered corner within the walls (it was sunny, but FREEZING!) and had a picnic of sorts. Everything around here shuts down for the lunch break (12-2, or 12:30-3) and suddenly, there were NO BATHROOMS available.
Joy.
Who shuts down the bathrooms for lunch????
I guess it is the French Way.
But we made do, and Dad found a restaurant that was open, and used his best broken German (um, because he didn't want to use English?) and looked like a desperate tourist (which he was), and they let him use the potty for free.
The cool thing about Aigues-Mortes (well, one of the cool things) was that there were these Archery Nooks all along the walls, and you could sit in them, and take shelter from the wind. And while sitting there, you can give your children history lessons about Castle warfare.
Why yes, I *am* holding my knitting.
After the city re-opened after the lunch break, we went into the museum, which gave us access to the Rampart Walls.
That's Ken's brother Fred sticking his head out of one of the holes in the wall, above the archery nook that we had been sitting in earlier.
The city is about a mile around, and we walked the whole way on the ramparts.
There's a tower at one corner (not the above tower), and we went up in it.
(tower behind the crowd, there)
Looking up, inside the tower:
The view from the top of the tower.
It was so windy, I was sure it was going to pick Nate up, and just blow him over the edge. SRSLY.
Oh, and Aigues-Mortes is known for the salt flats around it. The Camargue (the area around it) is the salt-gathering area for the country, and has been for centuries. In fact, I've got a cannister of salt on my stove that's FROM Aigues-Mortes, that I bought 4 years ago (for a seriously inflated price, but it was FRENCH, and I thought it was a pretty cannister) and it's from Right. Here. So of course, I had to buy MORE SALT to bring home with me. And I paid 63 Euro Cents (there) instead of 6 American Dollars (back home).
See the Salt Piles?
And everywhere, there were these narrow stone stairways.
Potty break, anyone? It's the archer's loo
Skip took a turn being a gargoyle.
It was a great castle. Probably one of the highlights of the trip. I've only touched the surface of what was available there. I scored some excellent souvenirs, and was introduced to the concept of the pay toilet.
But now it's time to get the kids to school, and put the finishing touches on my email to the parents of the eight girls I will be chaperoning on the Disneyland trip in 6 days. I missed the Chaperone Meeting because I was in France, and apparently there was a bit of grumbling on some of the parents' parts, because I "couldn't be bothered to show up to this important meeting". Yeah, right. I'll just hop on a plane and come back from France for a 1-hour meeting in the middle of the family reunion...
Next stop? The waters of the Mediterranean beckon!
The one problem with being a group of 18 people is that it's nearly impossible to get going in the morning. One person says "I'm ready to go" and then someone else says "I just need 5 minutes to do this one last thing", and someone else says "Great, I'll just get this little thing out of the way while you're doing that" and then another says "Oh, while if you're not ready, I'm going to take the trash down to the street" and before you know it, two hours have passed, and I'm ready to pull out my hair, having been up since 7am, re-stoked the fire, force-fed one picky nephew his eggs, hand-washed the blood-soaked shirt and sweater of Nate from his nose-bleed flight, and hung the wash out on the line, fed the animals, unpacked the kids' suitcases so they're easily accessible, scavenged firewood and twigs (for fire-starters), and knit five rounds on Ken's next pair of warm wool (but superwash, this time!) socks:
(Photo's out of order - this was taken on the train coming back from Amsterdam Centraal. Look! I pick milk that's 0% fat. I was quite worried that I'd accidentally picked up half-and-half until I took the first swig.)
But FINALLY, we headed away from the Chateau, and off on our 2 hour trek towards the Mediterranean.
First stop? In the empty parking lot (it's Easter Monday, after all) of a building supply store, so Skip could hurl up his guts. Yes! It's the Puking Vacationeers! (fortunately, after that one incident, Skip was fine for the rest of the trip. Kelly did spend a good chunk of time, though, with her fingers in her ears, JUST IN CASE Skip started yakking again)
And finally! After driving along all sorts of narrow roads that the GPS insisted were 'highways', we ended up at Aigues Mortes.
We got there just in time for lunch, so staked out a sheltered corner within the walls (it was sunny, but FREEZING!) and had a picnic of sorts. Everything around here shuts down for the lunch break (12-2, or 12:30-3) and suddenly, there were NO BATHROOMS available.
Joy.
Who shuts down the bathrooms for lunch????
I guess it is the French Way.
But we made do, and Dad found a restaurant that was open, and used his best broken German (um, because he didn't want to use English?) and looked like a desperate tourist (which he was), and they let him use the potty for free.
The cool thing about Aigues-Mortes (well, one of the cool things) was that there were these Archery Nooks all along the walls, and you could sit in them, and take shelter from the wind. And while sitting there, you can give your children history lessons about Castle warfare.
Why yes, I *am* holding my knitting.
After the city re-opened after the lunch break, we went into the museum, which gave us access to the Rampart Walls.
That's Ken's brother Fred sticking his head out of one of the holes in the wall, above the archery nook that we had been sitting in earlier.
The city is about a mile around, and we walked the whole way on the ramparts.
There's a tower at one corner (not the above tower), and we went up in it.
(tower behind the crowd, there)
Looking up, inside the tower:
The view from the top of the tower.
It was so windy, I was sure it was going to pick Nate up, and just blow him over the edge. SRSLY.
Oh, and Aigues-Mortes is known for the salt flats around it. The Camargue (the area around it) is the salt-gathering area for the country, and has been for centuries. In fact, I've got a cannister of salt on my stove that's FROM Aigues-Mortes, that I bought 4 years ago (for a seriously inflated price, but it was FRENCH, and I thought it was a pretty cannister) and it's from Right. Here. So of course, I had to buy MORE SALT to bring home with me. And I paid 63 Euro Cents (there) instead of 6 American Dollars (back home).
See the Salt Piles?
And everywhere, there were these narrow stone stairways.
Potty break, anyone? It's the archer's loo
Skip took a turn being a gargoyle.
It was a great castle. Probably one of the highlights of the trip. I've only touched the surface of what was available there. I scored some excellent souvenirs, and was introduced to the concept of the pay toilet.
But now it's time to get the kids to school, and put the finishing touches on my email to the parents of the eight girls I will be chaperoning on the Disneyland trip in 6 days. I missed the Chaperone Meeting because I was in France, and apparently there was a bit of grumbling on some of the parents' parts, because I "couldn't be bothered to show up to this important meeting". Yeah, right. I'll just hop on a plane and come back from France for a 1-hour meeting in the middle of the family reunion...
Next stop? The waters of the Mediterranean beckon!
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