Let’s not complain, at least not all the time

You know, mostly I talk about all the bumps and bruises we get when life goes looking for a punching bag.  But really, things aren’t always so bad.  We’ve been very lucky with our kids, and I’d like to take a moment to point out why we rarely find the need to send them to bed without their PSP.

First off, they’re smart.  Really smart.  They do so well in school they make Doogie Howser look like a gaping moron.  Well, maybe not a gaping moron, just a regular moron.  They’ve only been in their new school for about 2.48 months or so, and yet they’ve won awards, been nominated for special programs, qualified for free tickets to the amusement park, and eaten more hot dogs than that Japanese guy.

Second, they usually get along pretty well.  Not always, of course, they are brother and sister, after all.  But considering that we’ve lived apart from family for quite a while, and had so few friends, they’ve had to rely on each other for friendship.  They have fun together and almost always get along, except for that one time I caught them taking turns using a ping-pong paddle on each other.

Third, they’re pretty tough and don’t complain much when we go places.  As an example, I mentioned that we went to the sand dunes and hiked up that huge dune.  Let me tell you, it was really a hard climb.   I honestly didn’t think we’d make it to the top, but we did.  The kids hung in there and did what they had to do.  I’m proud of them, and hell, I’m proud of me, too, because like a year ago I would’ve died halfway to the top.

Fourth, they’re pretty darn well-behaved in public.  We’ve gotten many compliments over the years when we dine in restaurants.  They don’t go crazy bugging us for stuff, they don’t go running around, they don’t blow straw wrappers at anyone except me.  Maybe instead of “well-behaved” I should say, “Good and scared of what will happen to them if we have to fuss them in front of strangers.”  Whatever.  As long as they behave.

So even when we’re getting smacked around by life’s cruel and uncomfortably firm hand, we do have things to be thankful for.  Not that I’m saying my kids are “things”.  You know what I mean.  I’m proud of my kids.

A long way to go for a Poke

Amazingly, the entire crew was available to par-tay this weekend. We were excited about going somewhere to do something (in this case, the “where” is Sand Dunes National Monument and the “thing” was camping), but then we realized that this is Memorial Day weekend. In other words, every single person in the central portion of America would be trying to steal our campsite. Unfortunately, I didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe my new anti-campsite-thief samurai blade.

I had checked the reservations system to see if there were campsites available. There were, and plenty of them. We realized of course that we’d have to get there as early as possible to secure a spot, but we figured that, with literally thousands of sites still showing as available, there’d be no problem. After about 3.48 hours of driving, what a shock it was to find out we were wrong. Truly. A shock.

We showed up only about an hour-and-a-half after “check-in” time, and the place was full. We tried another campground. Full. I swear the park ranger muttered, “You poor bastards,” as we were leaving the park. We tried a nearby town that had billboards boasting “10 Hotels/Motels! We’re awesome! Other towns suck!” The entire fine selection of shabby motels was full. There were people lining the streets laughing at our hang-dog expression. But really, I didn’t even know that poor dog was caught in the rope until it was too late. (ooh, was that joke too much?)

So, in the end, we simply decided to have our fun at the Dunes and make the long drive back home. We actually did enjoy it, despite the sand oozing from every visible (and unfortunately, un-visible) crevice and/or orifice of our bodies. We actually climbed up to the top of one of the tallest sand dunes in North America. It was tough, every step a battle, like climbing in sand… oh, wait, yeah. I doubted we’d make it, but eventually we did. After a few minutes of stinging sand and annoying tiny flies and the thrill of possibly slipping and rolling 200 feet down the sandy slope, we trudged back down and began the long drive back home.

An obedient son

I was directed, so I went.  Someone suggested, so I did.  A finger was pointed, so I headed out.  I was told that WordPress is the blog manager to the stars, and I figured, “Hey, I hate celebrities, but I love astronomy, so why not?!”  And here I am.

The Toy

Sometimes I feel like we’re here for someone’s amusement.  We decided that since a miracle occurred (no work on Saturday!), we’d push our luck and go for a hike just outside of Boulder.  I suppose we should’ve known better.

The day wasn’t fantastic, but it wasn’t terrible, either:  mostly cloudy, sort of cool, but the sun would peek out now and then.  We drove along, hi-diddly-ho, la-dee-da, stopped at a viewpoint and saw a gang of prairie dogs beating up some squirrels, ho-diddly-hi, da-dee-la, and arrived at our destination.  Where it was raining.  We sat for a few minutes, hoping that it might slack off.  It didn’t.  We sighed and left, intending to perhaps visit the pedestrian mall in downtown Boulder.  We arrived there, and lo!  The rain had gone.  Unfortunately, we didn’t have a single coin larger than a penny to put into the parking meter, so we sighed and left, intending to perhaps visit the park my dear brother took my parents and me when they were visiting, and walk around there.  We arrived at our destination.  Where it was raining.  We sighed and left, intending to get some lunch.  We arrived at our lunch spot of choice, and lo!  The rain had gone.  Like I said, someone was playing with us.  It was like someone gets poked right in a bruise.  It was like someone continuously yanking some candy right out of reach.  It was like someone in a choice parking spot keeps putting the car in reverse, then into park, while someone else is waiting in the car for that spot in the pouring rain, begging and cursing in turn at that damnable driver who was deliberately goading her.  Well, maybe that’s a bad example, since that’s how I met my wife.  By the way, dear, I didn’t realize you had to use the restroom that bad, or I wouldn’t have let it go on for that long.

In the end, we did get to walk a bit.  We figured we might as well eat our lunch at that park, and enjoy the rain-blurred view.  The rain never quite returned, so we trudged through some mud for a bit, admired the cacti and the view, and headed home.  We arrived, and lo!  The ground was dry.