Johanna has decided that it would be really cool if, in the future, the whole world was one big bouncy house. Because then no one would need canes. If you fell, you'd just bounce right back up again. She's also fairly sure that because tomorrow is the future, this will all happen tomorrow.
FYI, seven-year-olds have no use for logistics.
So Eric went bear hunting this weekend, which meant the girls and I were free to party. Just in case you care about that sort of thing, every five years Eric draws a bear tag, apparently. (I faintly remember the last time he went, when Johanna was two. But those years are a blur, what with the not sleeping.) He has yet to be successful, which is why I don't worry very much. It's sort of awesome to think we have bears running amok out there, and it makes me sad to think of one forever doomed to be a rug on my floor.
Anyway, so the girls and I spent another weekend in the Town of My Birth, with my parents this time, and with a rather busy agenda. Eric stole both my phone AND the camera, so no documentation, but whatevs. I am not bitter about that in the least, as you can plainly see.
First up: My cousin Clara's baby shower. Clara was pregnant with twins and due in August. She delivered earlier this month. June didn't make it. Maggie is doing well and is up to 2 pounds, 2 ounces. (UP TO. Good lord.) So it was a bittersweet shower, although lovely, because my cousin Shell throws a party like nobody's business. Cowgirl theme, lemonade in pint jars, I don't know, it was cool. Got to meet some of Clara's friends and in-laws, got to spend time with my family. Clara gave us all an update on Maggie's progress. Mighty Maggie.
It was nice.
Second up: Memorial Day and decorating the graves. We used to do this every Memorial Day when I was growing up--it's like a six hour loop to get to all the grandparents and great grandparents et al--but I haven't been in on it for years. My brother Tim came up just for the day, and that livened things up quite a bit. He and the girls formed "Team Circus," which mostly I try not to think about, but they had a good time. It's fun to hear the stories. Now that we're older, we appreciate family history.
That was also nice.
We were such a large group that we had to take two cars. I drove Grandma and Grandpa's van. For some reason Mom thought it was a good idea to put Grandma in the front seat where she could see the speedometer. I thought we were going to lose her on the highway. I was going ten miles below the speed limit and she had a total panic attack. So I made her move to the back after our first stop, behind me so she couldn't see what I was doing*, and then after the second stop Dad put her in their car. She trusts my Dad not to kill her, I guess, because Mom said she was laughing and having a good ol' time. Gramps gave me an A for my driving--I hit too many bumps, he said, and I parked too close to the fridge in the garage when we got home, so I got a couple of points deducted.
*Not because I was mad or anything--I've known Grandma almost 40 years and this is just the way she is. No, I put her in the back for her own peace of mind. She kept apologizing when we got back home, telling me I'm a good driver and she felt bad. It's okay, Grammie. We are what we are.
R.E.M., Losing My Religion. This song is not actually about losing your religion. That's just southern slang for being at the end of your rope. Grammie and the car on the highway! See where I'm going with this? What, I haven't said enough? I THOUGHT that I heard you laughing...
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