Detailed Travelogue, Even What I Ate

We arrived at Ben and Diane's house and were shown to our deluxe accommodations. Just kidding, we scored the purple bedroom. Taylor grew up when I wasn't looking and will leave in a week or so for Taiwan. They played a violin/piano duet which was very nice even though Sophie plugged her ears and had a pained expression on her face until the last note.

















We ate a huge dinner with 5,000 deserts and I know that Diane is secretly plotting to make me gain 2 tons. I think she fed me lemon cupcakes in my sleep. I'm a sound sleeper. The men retired to a rousing game of something involving throwing heavy balls. When the competition got too HEATED, an official referee had to be called to measure: And Caroline and I enjoyed our photo shoot: She's a woman after my own heart, finding us those chocolates.












On the way home we stopped in Mountain Home, (again to feed my face) and Dave saw a golf course that he would like to play. I said "you can play it if you will jump off that bridge.










So of course anyone who knows Dave knows that the only thing he likes better than heights is trying new things so he scrambled to the top of the bridge and here he goes:










And landed safely:

Sometimes A Picture Really Is Worth A Thousand Words

We partied at what Ralph liked to refer to as "his basement apartment" yesterday. Happy Birthday, Daddy.

I thought of you as I weeded yesterday. I copied the way I had seen you carry your shovel over your shoulder as I followed behind you. I wish you had shown me how to sharpen it. I looked at my poor, sick, wind blown tomatoes and knew you would shake your head at their patheticness and then fix them.

36 months of nausea paid off

Thanks, Bre, you're a doll. I very much like my gift.

And Thanks, my favorite Shelly. I'm messing with my ISO camera setting; so far I only see that it turns everything blue. And next week I will doll up my blog so much that you will all be astounded and your jaws will drop with pure dumbfoundedness.

Is This Why People Don't Stay Long?







Or is it the Cinderella syndrome?

Next time no-one leaves til the bread pudding's gone

I've got to say the raspberry bread pudding is way better heated up, but it's cruel to make me finish the whole thing. All of our guests are financially responsible for my visit to the FAT FARM. The egg dying went surprisingly smooth; I anticipated spilled dye all over the floor but nope, the counters and floors are their original colors. Pay no attention to the shirtless dude sitting on the counter, he contributed in his own way. The "hunt" also went smooth. The guys did the hiding and then Dave came in insisting that we get out there immediately before the dogs devoured all the "hidden" eggs. I guess he forgot that there are no dog packs prowling our neighborhood. An occasional cat wanders through but Herbie is the only one that regularly escapes and earns us the disdain of our dog containing neighbors.


The "Hunt" was followed by a pick-up game of basketball where Luke, Karsten, and Tate showed off their skills.

Then the girls had a pick up game of fairy princesses go to the Ball.

And Langdon and Avery bonded. Lydia fastidiously avoided touching Lukey's blanket because she said it was full of germs but was okay with kissing Herbie good-bye. Love em to pieces!

The DIY Lady is Crazy or Doesn't Have a Watch

So I print out the instructions, with pictures, from the nice-looking DIY lady for making/hanging a cornice. Two hours, she says, with a pleasant smile on her face. Easy-peasy. Maybe in HER world. In my world it took Heather, Melissa, Dwayne, Gary, Dave, and Me considerably more hours than that. Actually, I only did a little bit of supervising and bribing but they're done and I'm happy.

And here's a couple of shots of a cute Grandpa. With shiny nails.