We just finished a round of indoor soccer for Rex, Caleb and Elisabeth. I think they had great fun. They were all really tough. Rex got to play goalie a lot. Elisabeth and Caleb were on the same team, and they were both go-getters with the ball. I was extremely proud of all of them!
Rockefeller Center, all of it.
Seeing the city lights from up high
Macy's Flower Extravaganza, or whatever the freak it was called.
Bryant Park.
The totally insane toy stores, F.A.O. Schwartz here.
Getting on the U.S.S. Intrepid.
The subways--I loved 'em.
Seeing the building where all those Law & Order shows are made,
Watching Bob sleep in Central Park.
The bridges. All of them.
It's still spring in NYC right now!
The graveyards fascinated me, too.
Being with my honey at really cool places.
Write about a memory you have that centers around a particular smell.
Whenever I walk past a tobacco shop in the mall, I stop and inhale deeply. I’m not into smoking; I’m not into cigarettes or stinky cigars. I am, after all, a product of the Just-Say-No Generation. But I do like the smell of smoking tobacco.
When I was small, preschool age at most, my daddy smoked tobacco pipes. I was young enough that I have no memories of him actually using a pipe. However, the smell of tobacco always reminds me of him and of those glorious days of innocence and trust and magic, when all the world was always still good and beautiful.
My family had a set of bookshelves when I was young, and there was a cabinet in the middle of them that opened into a sort of small writing desk. We never actually used it as a desk, but that’s where Daddy’s pipes were stored on their wood and green velvet rack. I loved opening that door on its reluctant hinges because the faint perfume of the tobacco wafted out.
Then, as if I didn’t have my dad on a high enough pedestal yet, when I was maybe 6, I got stung by a bee, and I remember how wonderful it felt to have some of that tobacco patted all over the sting. Mostly, though, I remember how wonderful I thought–and still do—my daddy was!
Thanks to The One-Minute Writer for this prompt.
I think my tour guide felt sorry for me because I was apparently all alone in NYC. Of course, I wasn't. Bob was just at work. And I kind of liked wandering around without anybody to get in the way of all my harebrained ideas. Anyhow, the tour guide really liked having me pose for pictures. It was worse than going to a professional photographer.
I was especially impressed when the guide sang "Oklahoma" for me (that was the only line he knew), and then nicknamed me Oklahoma, and then let me drive the Duck Bus-Boat. I even got a certificate for being a Jr. Captain, appropriately made out to "Oklahoma."
So, we decided to get her a pet. Okay, not really. But when we were at Medieval Fair, a rescue organization had this fabulous dog out, and we all fell in love with him.
His name is Jonah, and he's a two-year-old greyhound who flunked out of racing school. He weighs about 70 lbs, and is supposed to stay long and lean like this (and like Junebug, too!). He puts up with our kids' craziness, he likes running with Junebug, and he's soft, soft, soft. He arrived at our house today, and we love him already!
Did I mention he's gianormous?
Puppy play and puppy kisses rock!
Get a good look, because that face is about to change. Hannah's getting her braces off next week. But who's counting, right? (Only 5 more days. 5 more days!)
For Caleb, I keep The Shoe Files. But for Rex, we have a different need: The Sock Files. Rex doesn't go through shoes regularly, just socks. "But, Tracy," you say, "that's only 2 pairs of holey socks; that's not so bad." Except that those are his only 2 pairs of socks left after all being seriously mutilated in the heels. And except that those 2 pairs of socks weren't even his to begin with--they're abandoned socks from the trampoline area of our backyard. (Ummmm....sorry if you recognize them, but we let them go unclaimed for a week or 2 before I throw them in with our own laundry.)
Egg-dyeing time is much anticipated at our house. We must have been asked about 900 times today when we were going to dye Easter eggs. A few dozen eggs later, we only had a few broken ones (I think each member of the family was represented), and lots of pretty colors.
One of the neighbor girls came over because she says they weren't dyeing eggs at her house. We were okay with that. (It kept the familial bickering to a minimum.)
Yeah, an egg got broken after this shot.
My sweet girls! More Easter fun tomorrow....
This is the face of a future Iditarod racer. How do I know this, you might ask? Whenever she wants someone to get out of her way, she yells, "Mush!"
We also fork out way too much money for the kids to choose one ride each. I wish I owned a camel. At $5 a pop, I could probably afford to keep him for the whole year based on this one weekend's earnings. Rent him out another weekend, and I could go on vacation.... (Medieval Fair ride donations are accepted at our residence year-round, in case you were wondering.)
Ponies, too. Sariah was utterly pleased with the experience. So thrilled, in fact, that she refused to get off the pony when the ride was over. The entire rest of the fair she kept saying, "Ride pony! Ride pony!" So now we're 3 for 3 on the girl-horse connection.
Caleb and Rex played a beat-em-up game on an inflatable toy. Unfortunately, I didn't get pictures of that because we were finishing up the camel ride and then watching a lady walk around with a rat on her head. I guess rats were part of the medieval scene, right? Hannah didn't take her ride; she opted instead to use it as a bargaining chip for something she wanted (still waiting to see how that pans out for her). Then too, the swings she usually likes to ride were nowhere in sight. Come to think of it, there were no elephants this year either. But that's okay, because one year an elephant ate the shoe right off of Rex's foot.
I try to be as beautiful, but it takes hair dye, Photoshop, and inner peace. Yeah, I'm only 2 for 3, darn it!
