Bad day

Here's picture from less than two weeks ago...

Seriously. Look at the happy healthy dad. He's old and all, but still, he's great. Except that today he had to go to the hospital and they found out he had a heart attack.

Shit....

Other people's parents have heart attacks. Not my parents. So you see why I'm so surprised. My mom and aunt have taken care of everything, and they say everything is fine and that dad's fine, but I still feel like a horrible daughter, several hours away trying not to think about how slowly this day is going.

So, I decided to bake myself a birthday cake. It's a butter cream cake that has a whopping pound and a half of butter, but you do what you can to get by. Carolyn's very on-board with this idea.

So ends the summer of Chris

It's been fun. Really it has. Riding around town on my bike, going to the pool.

But my super-easy, carefree summer life is at an end — abruptly. After a series of trips with the girls, more freelance and my new decision to take an anatomy and physiology class, it's no more easy street (Annie reference) for me. And it's too bad, because I really enjoy being tan and well rested.

It's a lot like living in Normal. This summer, when the roads were clear (important for anybody new to cycling) and I didn't have to run into a tiny co-ed leaning over her mostly empty shopping cart gabbing into her phone in every aisle at the grocery store, I came to appreciate small-town life. But they're back... The students. And while I thank students for giving me a lively little downtown with good restaurants and such, I hate them.

They're dirty, mostly stupid and just annoying. At Kroger yesterday, a pretty little thing was stroking her hair when she asked her boyfriend: "What's the difference between white vinegar and balsamic?

Well, one is used to clean toilets and the other is for eating. But whatever. I left her to mull over this quandary.

And I leave you with the idea that I'll be posting less. I'll try to keep up the pics, but there will definitely be less musings. For you, it's like summer break in a college town.

Bliss.

Descent into madness

I'll say this about our overnight trip to Chicago — we're better prepared then most when the apocalypse happens.

Steve and I have a long and storied history of not doing things like other people. Instead of driving in a nice air conditioned car, we take a crowded train. Instead of taking cabs, we take the subway. Instead of being normal, we insist the modern conveniences that make our country great are a practice in excess.

And so when we take pictures before we board the train, and Steve said now starts our descent into madness, he knows what he's talking about.

Our trip was mostly great. We ate at great restaurants, had fun with the girls, enjoyed the sites. But when we had to leave our favorite restaurant early because the screaming girls refused to eat (and they ALWAYS eat at Frontera, because the food is THAT good) and I was left alone to scarf my sustainable seafood while choking back tears, you know the descent has begun.

Thanks goodness for the margaritas.

And here's the kicker. There was a couple on our train with two girls (5 and 3) who were obviously video watching, minivan driving, American Girl type people. After thoroughly judging them because they both stole our elevator and our prime seats, they saved our ass by inviting our girls to watch a movie with their girls on the trip home. And to boot, they were incredibly friendly.

Turns out we are not superior. We're just a stinky, tired family whose long road to crazy was much shorter than expected.

Now, see our photos.

Just in time

Penelope finally said OK to the water park slide. It took all summer, and the pool closes in a week, but she did it!

Now, that's all she wants to do.

Dumb dog

It's all about Annie. That's why Carolyn suddenly needs to hug and pet Fife all day long. And I could tell her a billion times not to step on Fife's paws, but it took Annie's love for her big shaggy dog Sandy to teach Carolyn that stepping on paws is just wrong. And now she's trying to teach Penelope.

Annie is a wonderful movie. I don't think I ever saw it as a kid, and the only reason we own it is because my father-in-law bought it for Carolyn, presumably to irritate Steve, who has horrible memories of his sister's constant loop of the catchy musical on the VCR.

But I just love it. I love Carol Burnett as the evil Mrs. Hannigan. I love the sappy music. I love the orphans. I love that I always get weepy when they sing this:

True he ain't pedigreed, Sandy, there ain't no better breed.
And he really comes in handy,
'Specially when you're all alone in the night
and you're small and terribly frightened it's
Sandy, Sandy who'll always be there!

But most of all, I love that Carolyn loves Fife enough to bury him beneath a pile of her dolls.



It's high praise indeed, as you can see. It's also one of Carolyn's favorite pastimes.

My new table

Steve bought me two bar stools the other day. Yes...

And not "yes" for the reasons everybody thinks, although I'm not opposed to drinking tequila on a barstool.

No, these stools are for the girls. They can sit at the counter while I cook, which keeps me from stepping on them because they refuse to leave me alone when I'm in the kitchen. Bonus, they can help.

Like Carolyn helping me shuck corn for lunch. Corn, incidentally, we drove our bike to get yesterday straight from Farmer Henry.



And here are the girls this morning, "helping" me make pancakes.