Father's Day...

In June

In Dallas

On a Train

Without Air Conditioning...


Why?!?

Because a very intelligent marketing directer gave Daddies a free Father's Day ride on an otherwise "far too expensive for us" train.


But who can think of the heat,

when sharing a tortilla with your baby girl?

Or sharing a seat with your cousin?


Or pondering the view,

with your sweet big girl?

Luci, with the help of her father, found a way to make the most of the 102 degree day.


Mommy preferred to keep her children inside the moving train.

Another Marketing success was to allow a two hour stop at the Fort Worth Stockyards in the middle of our ride.


Where Isabelle swooned over the horses and the possibility of spending a small fortune for a lap around the block on one. Thankfully, she did not realize how close her tender strokes were to breaking through her parent's frugal budget.

We also watched the long horn "cattle drive", a term obviously used liberally, as they walked almost entirely in single file, and allowed us to take (literally) twenty five pictures of them in this half block. But eight foot horns are impressive even at a sauntering pace.


Daniel was also able to realize his dream of being a stage coach driver, hence the girls holding onto the seat in front of them.

And Isabelle, well her dream of a horse ride was satisfied, for the moment, with an easily spent quarter from Daddy's pocket.

Happy Father's Day to a wonderful Daddy and Husband.

Friday Photo Favorites

The four kids enjoying a day at the St. Louis Zoo

Volcano

The Making of a Volcano

First you need an old wine bottle
(Thanks Gia for getting rid of that silly wine!)



Next you add some left over chicken wire from the garden.


Then... why not some taping and bedding materials, we have a few of those left over.



Topped off with the left over texturing materials.



And what volcano would be complete without foam sealant for the top?



A little spray paint, applied by everyone (Jeremiah would like the disclaimer added, "I only held the can, the children chose where the colors went.")


Finally, we have a Volcano
whose bottleneck spout produced quite an explosion!



As you can see for yourself...

(Photos taken by my sisters camera, a source of great envy for me)

No one expected the explosions we got.

Paul Thomas finished his birthday cookie removed from the remaining explosions in the middle of the yard, at a safe distance from the flaming red vinegar lava.

Happy Birthday Peter Pie!

Two Minutes

It took Daniel approximately two minutes to cover his arms, legs, face, two square feet of the nursery floor, a high chair and a stool in Desetin. It took considerably longer to clean it all up.

Daddy took this picture before he realized the water resistant properties of this particular product. Mommy, being fully aware of them is only now, a week later, able to smile at this picture.

More?!

While busily organizing the toys in the boys room, I realized the high pitched "MO!" resonating from the kitchen might warrant investigation. Upon arriving, this is what I found...




They apparently had things worked out very well. But I am not sure how she got into the chair (although her guardian angels must have fastened the snaps to keep her there.)

In or Out?

This is Isabelle at 9:49 pm last night. She is so soundly asleep that she neither heard my laughter nor woke from the flash.

Yes, she is actually standing on the floor.

I recall being so tired of the late night revelry and groggy mornings that my threats for getting out of bed were pretty intense. She, being the one who, recently, finds it impossible not to straddle the lines of authority, must have fallen asleep this way while waiting for me to find her and determine if she was actually out of bed or not.

Small Successes

1. I have accepted the uphill battle that a nine day trip to St. Louis can wage against the attempted, if never realized, level of sanity, order and general good will expected in our home. And therefore, every morning, I have successfully picked up yesterday's To-Do list and exclaimed, "well, at least we're saving paper because there is certainly no reason to write a new one!" without losing my peace.

2. I voluntarily offered my seat as the reigning "Guess Who" champion, having shut out the competition entirely after three fairly intense games, to go clean the toilet.
(It's amazing how difficult it can be at times to not guess the correct person.)

3. We have added an aspect of multicultural experience to the dinner table this week, by replacing our standard three Italian, two Mexican and one Wild Card meals with a Greek, a Swedish and an Asian entree. Best of all, this elevation of our cultural pallet was all prepared with the purchase of only five items from the store.

(Perhaps this is a greater testimony to my overstuffed cabinets than my thrifty culinary expertise.)

Rocks & Wood

I can remember sitting on the cold leather couch in my grandparents' basement, the feeling of the cool leather becoming hot and sticky under my knees. It was a place I normally avoided, but I can remember sitting there actively defying my discomfort, because my grandfather was sitting there too. He was going to show me what I, as a child, had come to believe to be one the greatest mysteries of the world; a glass jar containing a collection of rocks within which were a few pieces of petrified wood. I can remember how they felt so cool, just like all the other rocks. They were just as heavy as the rocks, and in fact, until he pointed them out I might not have known the difference. In unabashed childish confidence, I refused to believe that they were ever real wood, while secretly being delighted to be the subject of what I assumed must have been one of Grandpa's greatest tricks. To have somehow carved such delicate details into these rocks that they truly resembled little pieces of wood, and then to carry on as though they were once something else; I felt great pride in the thought that such efforts were being made to fool me.

But as my grandfather persisted, and his explanation continued with the greatest patience and love, I began to realize I was a fool in doubting my grandfather, not the wood. As I looked at my grandfather, he no longer seemed to be the same man, suddenly, in a way that only a child's mind can imagine, he was both human and magical, old enough to have watched this very piece of wood become rock and yet young enough to be holding me in his lap. I used to love looking at that jar of rocks, all the while thinking myself one of the luckiest girls to have a grandfather like mine.

Last week we said good bye to my grandfather. He had struggled for many years with Parkinson's and Alzheimer's. Communication had been difficult, if possible at all, over the last four years, yet I always felt he knew when I was there. Perhaps, for me, some of the magic from my childhood has always lingered with him.

Grandpa and Nana with Peter and Isabelle in 2005