A few last photos of the Camelot Inn, Amarillo:
I would purchase this in a heartbeat.
The continental breakfast at the Camelot Inn:
turned out to be even lamer than the reconstituted eggs at The 5th Season. That nice long counter had nothing aside from those pastries. Where’s the waffle-maker in the shape of Texas? The dispenser of dry cereal and plastic bin of eggs?
Pleasing graffiti in Pueblo, Colorado:
and a blooming cactus:
you’re so vibrant! You dashing thing.
Isn’t it interesting how this wispy smear of a cloud can be alongside clouds with such highly defined boundaries?
Look how two different clouds share one sky. So Bob Marley of them.
Unicorn horse rider with sister:
Unicorn horse rider with sister and brother:
Splendid skies in Denver:
They look so solid and palpable. This was on an evening walk with some friends.
Rascal accumulated a bunch of baby pine cone things and leaves on that walk, and then requested paper and glue:
He had a very definite plan:
to make baby carrots.
Then we had to figure out how to transport this fragile thing. So we wrapped it in Saran Wrap and put it on the dash board of the minivan.
Meanwhile, from my mom:
That is Sonia, my great-grandmother.
Here she is, with my great-grandfather:
Sonia and Jerome. They were born in Russia and emigrated around 1915, I think. Devoted lifelong communists. They wouldn’t celebrate any holidays, not even birthdays.
I usually think that I’m keeping this blog for my children. That when Rascal graduates high school, or maybe college, I’ll show it to them and let them do whatever they want with it. But it’s crossed my mind that when they read these stories, they’ll have a separate set of emotions from what I’ve depicted – embarrassment, sadness, anger, happiness, whatever. It may not be straightforward for them to read all this.
It’s possible that I’m really writing this for my grandchildren, that there may be one or two who just adore hearing all about their parent, when that parent was growing up. This thought occurred to me after I logged all those hours last week, hearing about my mom’s childhood, and how much I devour those stories. It’s so much less complicated when it skips a generation and you’re reading about stories for which you were not present.
My darling pink roads of Wyoming:
Everything is more green and lush than usual, and everyone keeps marveling over how rainy it’s been.
I prefer kid bubble gum, when I’m driving on a road trip, to stave off drowsiness. Adult bubblegum is not meant for longevity the way kid bubblegum is, and it becomes rubbery and weird.
In my scientific opinion, the ordering of quality is:
- Hubba Bubba
- Bubble Yum
- All adult-targeted gum
Douglas, Wyoming, or maybe Casper:
I liked the juxtaposition of the dry wheaty grass under the lush green cottonwood.
Conversation from the minivan
[“Good to be bad” is playing on the radio]
Ace: I want to be bad.
Ace: I like digging my nails into things.
Rascal: But then you go to jail!
Pokey: No, she means like just bad at home.
A tiny orange train engine chugging along:
Known for its grandmothers of Jammies:
and their frozen-in-amber houses.
Yes, you’ve seen these exact photos before. Her house is just such a wonderful time warp,
that I can never resist photographing it. Everything about the honeycomb amber glass and heavy cabinet pulls is spot on.
A spare bedroom:
with lush shag carpeting
and honest-to-god sparkly pink popcorn ceilings.
with its flocked wallpaper and marbleized lowers.
This untouched mancave:
since Jammies’ grandma does not go in the basement anymore.
and opposite of the mancave,
Jammies’ grandfather’s office.
yes, you do.
Pokey playing soccer with his new cousin:
which is to say, I have a new nephew! Jammies’ brother got married this past weekend, and so I have a new sister-in-law and nephew. (They also got married in Brazil, back in March, but this was the state-side ceremony.)
The cousins put on a mini-performance in order to make a grand pronouncement
that they would be kidnapping various adults over the coming week.
(The kidnappings have not come to pass.)
Novelty bill pay?
Like send money via whoopie cushion? Squirt water in the collection rep’s eyes with your flower boutonniere?
Rainbow shirt, rainbow art.
Apparently, Ace said something to Jammies that revealed that she thought hot dogs were made out of dogs.
Jammies said, “Ace, you know that hot dogs are made out of beef or pork or turkey? Not actual dogs?”
“Oh,” she said, unbothered either way.
Hey mom, make a kitty sound!
Me: Mew, mew!
(We were pretending I’d eaten a kitten and it kept getting mad.)
So, this is huge:
That is Ace, who until now has only clung in terror to adults in deep water and asked to be taken back to solid ground. As of Friday, she now loves water. Some switch has been thrown.
She paddles around for hours, now. Her lifejacket chafes up against her face, leaving her jaw and cheeks raw and scraped each night. She says it’s worth it.
logs a lot of hours building legos.
We’re just baby thistles.
Dapple gray horse.
On Thursday night, Jammies drove over to Helena, to take the certification exam to teach math in Texas on Friday morning. It’s a five hour test.
He reported that the testing facility felt like a jail. They checked that his glasses were not Google Glasses. They made him take off his necklace. They had Jammies put all his possessions in a locker, and provided scratch paper in the form of wipeable paper with a dry-erase marker.
I really loathe the way this test is set up. There are 100 questions, in 4 hours and 45 minutes. So you have a little less than three minutes per question. Jammies could easily pass if he had enough time to work through and reason out each question, but that pace does not permit actually the test-taker to actually conduct mathematical reasoning on a math exam. It tests your ability to quickly categorize the problem and recall the right trick to solve it. It’s truly bullshit, and I blame Pearson, who writes and administers on behalf of the state of Texas.
(We will get the test results on Tuesday night. Why wouldn’t you get your results instantly? I have no idea, but it seems manipulative.)
So, then it was time for the wedding:
Hawaii’s elaborate hair.
as a very grown-up looking bridesmaid.
Ace, bundling up her dress to transition from the business office to social hour.
Isn’t this a cute birch tree cake?
Isn’t this a cute star-eyed kid? He colored for about four hours straight, during the reception.
This one started off flossing:
but branched out, throughout the night. All three of these kids danced a ton during the reception.
I was so proud of them. I love dancing at weddings, and want my kids to be able to enjoy themselves dancing. I think you have to develop a taste for it, and find why it’s fun, in order to overcome the self-consciousness.
This is the best part: Ace spent the last 30 minutes of the wedding in the photo booth, by herself. Some highlights from her 7+ rolls:
They’re all so good. One is just four identical stony-faced Aces in oversized novelty glasses.
Anyway, we’re having a lovely time.
What’s in that boat?
Still hard to make out.