B is for Bins

We moved on November 1. (Well, about two weeks on either side of that.)  In moving, I've found scads of crap (as one does in a move).  The main thing I've done (besides watch several episodes of Hoarders) is to organize ALL my craft stuff.

Anything that had a whiff of craftiness about it, was put in the basement.  After I found all craftiness-related items were put in the bottom of the house, I went to work.

Let me give a brief description of our basement.  The stairs go down and if you kept walking, in about 5 feet you'd walk into the water heater and various other house-heating, floor-to-ceiling type things. 

If you turned left, you'd see the set-up we did for the kids.  Against the wall where the stairs run: TV and gaming consoles.  Big piece of carpet underneath - rolled up futon (currently looking for a futon frame) - their toy bins - a table with all their board games - a heavy, 6 foot table that has those folding legs (Dave found it somewhere).

If you turned right, you'd see a queen-sized bed up against the wall.  To the right of the bed is a small door about 4 feet off the ground that leads to the crawlspace (that thing runs under the ENTIRE rest of the house!  Told Dave I was going to fill it with yarn). 

Opposite the bed, is MY space!

Back to the craft stuff.  And understand that when I say "craft stuff", I'm including all yarn.

I put five or six empty cardboard boxes on the bed and surrounding floor.  Then I took every little box and bin that had craft stuff (not the yarn, yet...) and started sorting in to the boxes.  There was a sewing box, a box for knitting accoutrement, a beading/jewelry box, a papercrafts box, a box for stuff that should be in my office, a box for glass rocks (used to make them into magnets), a box for misc..... you get the idea.  Most importantly, a box for duplicates and things I want to get rid of.

I'd take all the smaller boxes and bins and and just start chucking.  I didn't peruse or think too much about any of it.  Pull crafty stuff out of small bin, chuck in to appropriate box.

This took me roughly a week, working at least an hour a day.  Once it was all divided, I'd take each big box and further sort into smaller boxes or back in to the small bins/boxes where they would live.

Dave gave me a big bookcase (7' X 3' X 1').  It's now full of very organized boxes and bins!

Then I went to tackle the yarn....
another week of time.

I tossed the stash.  Didn't dump any out, just dug through what was in the bins, looking for vermin.  Nothing there - yay!

I had 4 or 5 HUGE ziploc bags of yarn that had been either taken out or never put away.  I started to put it all in the bins I already had and then realized I wanted to rearrange nearly ALL of those bins in to different categories. 

I have three enormous bins.  One is sock yarn.  The other two were marked Good Wool and Good Stuff.  ??  The "good stuff" was pretty arbitrary - anything with alpaca, silk, etc.  So I rearranged both those into "Non-sock fingering to Worsted" and "Aran to Bulky".

I had an "Acrylicrap" and a "Good Stuff Acrylic" bin.  I kept those but took quite a lot of stuff out of the "good stuff" one and made a "Blanket" bin.  I have a bin of sock yarn that's already rolled, so should be used first.  I have a bin that says "Knit Me First!" for stuff I want to kick out this year.  There's a Kitchen Cotton bin.  There's a sadly-too-large WIP bin.  There's a Felting Wool bin.

I had a bin with yarn in it for ideas I've had for my own designs over the years.  Sadly, now that my skills may actually (almost?) be up to what the designs in my head need.... most of those yarns are discontinued.  I'm getting rid of most of those. 

BUT one of those sets of yarn is in many pieces.  In Tucson, the store I used to go to let me do a store model.  They gave me all the yarn for it.  It was a disaster.  I won't say what book it was, but out of the 24 designs in the book TWENTY had errata.  We even found an error ON THE ERROR PAGE!!

It was an lovely, though odd yarn (Filatura Di Crosa Portofino).  The pattern was crochet and the yarn was a really bad choice for it as it was several strings plied together and would split about every third stitch.

I eventually finished the project but not without lots of little balls of leftovers.  I have about 6 or 7 balls of it left.  4 complete-with-labels and the others are all in little bits and balls.  I've decided to knit it together with  the plethora of black Paton's Classic Wool I have and make a huge, felted bucket (like my friend, Tina has!).   The black will felt but the Portofino won't.  Should be interesting!

I'll make a list of all the other things I want to make this year, later.  As last year, it's a completely delusional list.  As last year, much of it is the same since much of it didn't get done last year!

I've had such fun going through all my stuff!  It's like an archaeological dig.  Layers and layers of crafts I've been interested in over the years.  Once I found knitting, all that other stuff basically got ditched.  I had two medium sized bins that had cross-stitch and needlepoint stuff in them.  I've got that down to one bin and the rest is going on Etsy.

As I unpack the rest of the house, I keep finding more bits and bobs of craft stuff.  It's like a squirrel or a dog discovering their hidden stash here and there in the yard.  The difference is that now, instead of my usual shove to the back of the closet/bin/box/whatever.  I take it downstairs to the basement and either put it in the appropriate place or put it in the get-rid-of box!  Such a huge step for me!

Still a long way to go, Ruth!

A is for Alcohol

In the past, I've talked about finding a drink that made me seriously consider alcoholism. 

Now to people who have had that in their lives, I realize that's not funny.  Never being a part of that myself, it cracks me up.

Let's see....

There was the hot chocolate w/Godiva liqueur, kahlua, and a dash of cinnamon.

There was the unnaturally refreshing cranberry-and-mint mojito in Vegas that blew me away on a hot summer day.

And at Xmas, I bought myself a bottle of Gingerbread Kahlua. 

Shut. Up. 

Mixing that with some milk (a la White Russian) and I've found myself a new obsession. 

I don't have an addictive personality by nature [she says with nearly roughly $20K worth of yarn in her basement]....

All right, all right.  I'll be more specific...

I don't have a substance abuse personality by nature.  I'm WAY too cheap to be addicted to anything that lasts less than a few hours.  Also, if last year's events didn't send me to a future rehab situation, nothing will.

I don't like wine.  I don't like beer.  I like vodka or rum with juice.  I like sweet stuff like Kahlua, or  Tuaca and eggnog (had once a year at my in-laws annual Xmas Day dinner party).

Ooooh, and Cider.  I really enjoy a good cider.  Angry Orchard makes a really good apple and a stellar Ginger Apple Cider. 

On New Year Eve's, Dave took me to a really nice steak house.  Amazing food!  The manager suggested a pear cider.  As much as I like apple ciders, I LOVE pear ciders.  The brand was one I'd never heard before - Fox Barrel - ohsodelicious!!!

I've tried drugs here and there in my life (future post), but nothing really grabbed me as worth my time.  The same goes for alcohol.   I've done my fair share of drinking (hello, college-and-being-stationed-in-Germany, why yes, I would love a tipple!), but even in my drinkingest days, I rarely took it too far. 

I always loved to go out dancing and quickly discovered that if one is too drunk, one can not dance, one can only fall.  In Germany, I was usually the designated driver on the rare occasions we weren't cabbing somewhere.

I'm not saying I've never been drunk.  I have.  Lots.  I've been drunk enough to puke.  In the way-too-much-information category, the drunkest I've ever been, I tried to pee in a plastic bag.  It didn't go well. 

I used to be able to hold my liquor.  I have a shot glass from Theta Ki at Fresno State that says 100 club.  You do 100 shots in 24 hours.  They told me, "You're a girl, you only have to do 25."  I said, "I'm a woman, I'll do 100."  One hundred shots of tequila in 24 hours.  The trick is to remember one had 24 hours to do it!  Many people try to knock it out and pass out or, you know... die.  I did 3 or 4 shots at the top of the hour, then drank water like crazy and danced like mad to sweat it out.  Rinse, repeat - free shot glass.  Stupid!!

In Germany, they had these tiny bottles that were shaped like the I-dream-of-Genie bottle and were full of a lovely plum schnapps.  Each bottle was about one shot's worth.  We'd turn the little bottle upside down, slam it against the bar a couple of times to make it fizzy, flip it upside, twist the top off, and quaff. 

There was a guy on the rugby team, named Woody that shared my birthday.  On our birthday, we went to the club we all hung out at (The Rock) and he dragged me to the bar and bought two boxes of these tiny bottles.  Twenty bottles a box.  He said, "Happy Birthday!  A box for you, a box for me!"  And we were off to the races.  Woody is a foot taller than me and outweighed me by about 60 pounds.  I matched him bottle for bottle until both boxes were done.

It was one of the few times those guys on the rugby team ever saw me in a dress. It was my birthday, so I wore a dress and some really funky tights and my usual Doc Martin boots.  I was on the dance floor, drunk (cabs that night!), dancing and having a great time.  As often happens at The Rock, a fight broke out on the dance floor.  A guy drew his arm back to punch someone else, and in his draw back, his elbow caught me right at the top of my nose, right between the eyes!  I remember thinking, 'Don't fall.  You're wearing a dress, don't fall.' 

I didn't fall!

Woody and the other guys ran up to me to see if I was OK (and to punch the guy that accidentally hit me).  "Are you all right??"  I said, "Is my nose broken?  If my nose isn't broken, I'm fine."  Woody was a medic and assured me my nose was intact.  I smiled and said, "I'm good then!" and we all started dancing.  The next day, they were all abuzz about at how well I could take a hit and joked about making me actually join the rugby team.

In my drinking days, I'd usually get a good buzz on, then stop.  I've had exactly one hangover (never drinking Jim Beam again).  That's pretty amazing considering how many times I've had too much.  I've never blacked out.  I've driven buzzed exactly twice.  Once in high school and once in the Army.  In high school, I realized how stupid it was and that I  never wanted to risk my beloved Mustang for something so stupid and so easily avoided.  The time when I was in the Army, I didn't realize how bad I was until I started driving.  I lived right off post and was driving from a party on post.  There was no one else on the road so I got myself home.  Not proud of it - definitely not my finest hour. 

Other than that, if you've ever had a few too many with friends, you know, with certain precautions and a modicum of self-control, it can be great fun!

That was all in my twenties.  When I got back from Germany, I never really drank much.  When I got out the Army for good two years after Germany, I stopped pretty much altogether. 

After having kids in my thirties, I am a complete lightweight when it comes to drinking.  I drink maybe once or twice a year, and two drinks has me buzzed enough to stop.  I'm a cheap date!

What's the drunkest you've ever been?

Pouring some Gingerbread Kahlua into some milk, toasting your health and the New Year, and calling it a night, Ruth!

Z is for Zaftig

zaf·tig

/ˈzɑf tɪk, -tɪg/ Show Spelled [zahf-tik, -tig]

adjective, Slang.

1.

(of a woman) having a pleasantly plump figure.

2.

full-bodied; well-proportioned.

 

Well-proportioned?  I guess so.  I still have an hourglass figure, it just tells a LOT more time now.

 

My back and feet are in near-constant pain ALL the time.  I know it's because of this extra weight I'm hauling around.  I'm looking in to buying something called Backjoy to help with all the sitting I have to do during my week.  If anyone has one and would like to let me know what they think of it, contact me!  I'm making other changes as well...

 

I've started going back to the gym and plan on continuing that in the New Year.  I clearly can't get in shape using food techniques as I am unwilling to give up bread, milk, cheese, and sweets.  So I'll just have to work my ass off (literally) at the gym.

 

I have a plan of action for this.  I love a good list!  I've written out my schedule for next quarter and I've apportioned time four days a week to make it to the FREE rec centers where I can work out.  Yeah.  They are free.  AND I sort of have the time.  The only thing keeping me from them is sheer laziness.  This is my last week of break before the new quarter starts so I'll be going at least three days this week (errands today, recovering from the party tomorrow, gym W, Th, F).

 

I'm getting this last bit of this year's Alphabet Soup in just under the wire.  A year or two ago, I noticed that it kept taking me longer and longer to finish my Soup.  I think I mentioned that eventually it would take the whole year and then the world would end.  It occurred to me this morning that the world WAS supposed to end this year - hah!

 

Auld Lang Syne, Ruth!

Y is for Yak

I WENT TO A YAK FARM!!

 

I totally blew off the schoolwork and went to a Yak Farm!  Our friend Jen (esteemed editor of Love of Knitting magazine) got us hooked up to go to the Bijou Basin Ranch , which, happily, is only about 45 minutes from my house!

 

The owners were funny and informative and lovely!  We asked all kinds of questions and they readily anwered every one of them.  Like we asked how long they live.  Carl said, "About 25 years, we've been told.  We've had them for about 6... [Pause]  So far, so good."

 

This is how close we got to be with the giants....

 

This snow-face one was my favorite!

 

We got to feed them alfafa treats and the babies were so cute!

Here's their scratching post.  The owners said it's a brush like they use for street sweepers.

There was also an enormous barn cat.  I couldn't get a pic of him next to anything for scale, but he's a good two feet tall! (and that's not even counting the tail)

After hanging out with the Yak, we went inside to ogle (coughpurchasecough) the yarn.  A lovely skein of DK may have followed me home.

Wishing the snow-face followed me home, Ruth!

X is for Xylography

Xylography means "art of engraving wood". 

I saw a pic of this online....

I was told it's a tattoo.  If it is, it's amazing work!

But I have to admit.....

When I first saw it, I thought it was a prosthetic wooden leg that had been beautifully carved.

Totally doing this if I ever lose a limb, Ruth!

W is for Women

Years ago, I read "The Handmaid's Tale" (by Margaret Atwood).  I loved that book.  It was so scary how they took away women's rights and then their freedoms.  It was insidious.  The right to have a bank account here, a right to vote there,  and before you know it - BOOM!! Women are put into categories of Gentry, Workers, and Breeders and that's all that's available to them. 

When I read the book, I remember thinking, "Wow.  That could actually happen.  It wouldn't even be that difficult."

Then, a couple of years after that, I read "Reading Lolita in Tehran" by Nazar Afisi.  As I  read, I thought, 'Holy shit, it happened.'  They took the rights of women away nearly exactly as it happened in the Atwood book.  Out of all the things in that book, I think what broke my heart the most was when the author's daughter came home in tears, "Why CAN'T I wear rainbow laces??"  That and when one of her students went on vacation and was reveling in the wind against her skin at the beach.  Things that women in this country take for granted as normal and everyday things.  Things that shouldn't be luxuries for women in other countries.

It also fascinated me how angry the women were.  They were angry at the men, of course, for imposing these ever-more ridiculous and confining restrictions on the women.  But they were also angry at themselves for allowing these restrictions to come in to play and become de rigeur.

I talked about all this on the blog years ago when I read these books.  I bring it up now because I've seen so many things this year that remind me of the ever-more ridiculous and confining things I've been  noticing lately.

Like this...

Back in late April, I saw this article.

It's all about how the Catholic Church devalues women.  Or at least that's what I took from it.  How can you say that what the men (archbishops and such) think is correct, but what the women think (nuns) is wrong and NOT be considered to devalue women?

And how does promoting charity and helping the poor make the nuns pro-choice?  Just because they are not touting that philosophy doesn't mean they don't believe it or care about it, and it most definitely does NOT mean they are promoting pro-choice!

Then there was this...
Terrorized on the commute - here
Basically, it's about a woman who commutes on a train and is constantly harassed when she just wants to be left alone to her reading.  She even encountered an obviously mentally ill man who harangued her to the point where she was forced to flee.

Mainly she has to deal with men sitting next to her, hitting on her using the pretense of asking about her book (when there's plenty of empty seats available).  If I knew her, I'd suggest she hand the book to some nearby, random guy and ask the guy hitting on her to do the SAME exact thing to that guy that he just did to her.  No?  You don't want to?  Why not?  Is it because if you did it to a guy it would be weird and creepy?  Well, guess fucking what.... doing it to me is JUST as weird, JUST as creepy, and JUST as unwanted.  Move along, dumbass.

Then there's the whole "legitimate rape" and various other dumbassery that went on during the campaigns.  What. the. Fuck.  The scary thing about that is that so many of the stupids that said that stuff actually BELIEVE it.  (Which, on a related note, also speaks to term limits.  When you have these ancient, pre-Civil War Rights movement people in office, there views aren't necessarily in step with modern times.  But that's a whole 'nother argument.)

In my own life, I can't stand it when customers call me Honey, or Baby, or Hon, or anything like that.  It's belittling and irritating.  I don't like it whether it's a man or a woman calling me that. 

Dave doesn't get it.  He thinks I take it too personally, and it's no big deal.  I tell him he doesn't get it because, as a man, it's something he NEVER has to encounter.  Sometimes when I want to push his buttons, I call him Sparky.  He hates that.  (FYI - we tease each other mercilessly, so when I do it, it's one of our gotcha things.)  I try to liken some total douchebag stranger calling me Hon to when I call him Sparky, but  he still doesn't get it.

On FB, there's so many women that let people walk all over them and all they do is whine about it.  Get a fucking backbone and DO something about it!  You have options.  And anyway, most of the slights they speak of don't even come close to the issues the nuns or even that commuter deal with on a daily basis. 

In this country, we, as women, are lucky enough to still have most of our rights.  For now.  We need to push to get them all (equal pay, etc.).  We also need to make strides to help women in other countries get theirs.  There are many charities that can foster education and independence among our sisters abroad.  Let's make 2013 a time when women of all types can have the same rights we do.  Let's make an effort.

Sisters all, Ruth!

V is for Vegas

Earlier this year, we had an opportunity to go to Vegas without the kids!

My mom was RVing through town with her husband, and she wanted to pick up the kids and RV them to CA.  It coincided beautifully with my best-friend-since-jr-high (N) going to Vegas with her husband and 4 or 5 other couples they are friends with.  I haven't been able to see N since my wedding in 2000!

Mom picked up the kids and they left the same day.  I didn't realize how unready I was to be without them for 5 days!  I almost started crying when they drove off!

After Vegas, Dave was flying home and I was flying to CA to stay with my mom for a few days and then fly home with the boys.  I was getting to CA at a time when mom didn't know if they were going to be there yet or not.  As we were saying goodbye in CO, she said, "Now there's a frozen dinner in the freezer.  You put it in the microwave for..."
Me: Mom.  I'm 42.
Mom:  You aaaaaAAARRREE?  [see where I get my sarcasm?]

So, Vegas....
Dave and I spent the first 2 nights in a boutique hotel that was far too cool for us.  Nearly everyone else we saw there.... all under 30 years old.  But we got it for free because we agreed to sit through one of those stupid timeshare talks.  The last 2 nights we stayed at New York, New York, which was where N and all her friends were staying. 

The first night there, we all met up at the Coyote Ugly bar and got completely smashed.  I think that Vegas trip was one long, tall drink.  I haven't stayed that consistently buzzed since my first weekend stationed in Germany.

The next day N had reserved a cabana at the NY, NY pool.  I showed up about 4p hung out for a few hours, and we all scheduled our evening.  N had also reserved a table at a nightclub (the one under the "Eiffel Tower" at the Paris.  Some of them were going to a show beforehand, and we were all going to eat together. 

I got my stuff and had dinner with them.  Then I took a nap in N's room and met them at the front door, dressed to the nines and ready to hit the club with them.  The ones not going to the show were going to go check in to get our table at the club.  It had to be claimed by 11:30p or they'd give it away and the show ended at 11p.

N and her husband (D) and I got to the club at about midnight.  When we were trying to find out where the table was, her friends texted her that we were "the table next to the terrorists".  Nice.  (N lives in Georgia, and most of her friends grew up there.)

What they were referring to was a table full of Sikhs.  Probably the second or third most peaceful religion in history. 

When we arrived, another of our crowd said, "If they leave all of a sudden, we're going too - before the bomb goes off."

Wow.

Except for N and D, I avoided them for the rest of the evening.  I headed to the dance floor where I spent most of the night!

I met my next husband there.

It was one of those dance floors where no one really dances with anyone in particular but dances with everyone around them. 

This beautiful, young Middle Eastern man starting dancing with me.  I was game so I started dancing with him.  He got closer and closer and then we started talking.  He's from Canada, he's there with a bunch of his friends, first time in Vegas, he's 24.  He says, "I'm hoping to make this trip really memorable."  Then he stops dancing, takes me in his arms, and says, "I got it!  Let's get married!!"

I said, "Oh.  Baby.  I am NOT the memory you're looking for."

He was so pretty, though.... very tempting....

I was floating between the dance floor and our table.  We had table service with about 4 bottles of vodka and a variety of juices.  We were also close to the bathroom, so we got to see all of humanity (and all their shenanigans) coming and going there. 

Beautiful Man ended up being one of the Sikh boys (although he was the only one beardless and not wearing a turban).  Later in the evening, I was dancing with all the other Sikh guys.  They were all huge!  Tall and husky everyone (except Beautiful Man who was just tall.  And beautiful.)

There were go-go dancers on platforms at this club.  When I was dancing with the Sikh guys, the go-go dancer nearest us left, and a skinny, male go-go dancer took her place.  He was dressed in a full-length wide skirt that would make Marie Antoinette jealous.  He was shirtless but had a series of stretchy straps going around his bony chest.  His knee-high, patent-leather, platform boots matched the white-with-tiny-black-polka-dots arm warmers, which also matched the fabric covering his face.

One of the Sikhs asked me what was up with that.  His English wasn't as perfect as his beardless friend.  He said, "Is that.... girl?  Boy?"
I said, "Oh, that's a boy.  We sometimes call them "Queens" when they dress so flashy."
You should have seen Sikh's face!  It was like a light bulb went on, and he said, "That explains so much!!"

I had a blast that night! 

The next day, N, D, and I walked to the Caeser's pool to check it out.  It was SO hot that I nearly started a fire with my thighs when we were walking.  I was wearing a long, thin skirt and a tank top.  I had a rub mark on my thigh by the time we got to the pool.  Nice.

Once there, we bought drinks, and for mine I chose a cranberry mojito.  Wow.  What a fabulous beverage for a hot day!!  When the liquid was gone, I went to have the bartender fill it with water.  Water, fresh-crushed cranberries and mint over ice.  Equally fabulous!  The bartender was very sweet.  He filled my cup many times for me.  I went back SO many times and he was very patient and refilled without complaint.  He also started giving me cranberry juice along with the water,  refusing any kind of payment I was trying to give him!  I tipped him a $20 when I left (the original alcoholic one was $26). 

Dave wasn't there for that either, as he was sitting at Poker tables most of the time.

Dave was nervous that I'd be mad he wasn't going to these N-planned activities (she actually sent us all an hour-by-hour spreadsheet with her planned things prior to our trip - love that girl!).  He said, "They're going to think I'm an asshole!" I told him, "This is your vacation, too.  They're going to think I'm an asshole if I make you go to this or that and you sit there bored and miserable the whole night! Go play Poker!!"

He had a good vacation, too!

Our last night, we played Poker together.  We were in a tournament with about twenty people.  N's husband and a guy she works with were also in the tournament. 

I took second place in that tournament and won $250 - Splee!!

All that time in Vegas and here's the only pic I took the whole time...

Do you see it?  It's a Gargoyle's profile in the shower...

I suck at Paint, but how about now?  Do you see it now?

My trip to CA was a good time, too.

My dear friend (also since jr. high), Peeps picked me up from the airport.  She and her wife took me to an amazing dive to have tacos ($1.25 each and the best I've had in years), then we went to her favorite dive bar and had a couple of beers. 

Her wife went home and her.... cousin? showed up.  He drove us to Hanford to drop me off at my mom's.  It's nearly an hour drive, and we were laughing our asses off the entire way.  Love those people!

Here's Peeps wearing the Thank You hat I made her.

 

Here's the two of us together (with a little monkey running up behind us to greet me!)...

CA was a great time, too!  I took the kids (and my mom) to Wild Water Adventures (which used to be Clovis Lakes when I was a kid) - it's a water slide funpark.

I took the kids to Yosemite, and to meet my dad (this was months before the disaster trip in October).  The last time my dad and his wife saw my boys, D2 was a babybaby, we're talking when he was roughly about 3 months old (so T would've been about 2 years old).

That Yosemite trip ended up being nightmare trip for us!  We were in the car for literally TEN hours.  Four hours to Yosemite. 

Great place that.  LOVE Yosemite.  The kids got to do a Junior Ranger thing...

They also got to climb rocks and trees and everything else that crossed their path....

We saw this really cool cabin....

 

Just kidding, it's a miniature vignette someone had made...

 



After Yosemite, we tried to find my dad's place.  I asked a Ranger the quickest way to get to Groveland.  He told me to go out the South gate.

 

WRONG. 

 

We should've gone out the North gate.

 

We ended up driving for TWO hours what should've taken about 30 minutes.  AND we ended up on a switchback highway for nearly all of that two hours. 

 

We got to see my dad and his wife for about 45 minutes.  We had pizza together, took some pics, then hit the road again to avoid having to drive home in full dark.

 

 

  Which we ended up doing anyway because it was already so late. 

 

Four hour drive home.  We got home around midnight. 

 

The boys were troopers.  They didn't complain and didn't ask me, "Are we there yet?"  Not once.

 

They did say that they never wanted to go back there again. hah!



On my last night in CA, I bought Me-n-Ed's Pizza for all of us.  I tipped the delivery driver $5, explaining that delivering pizzas for Me-n-Ed's was one of my first jobs ever.  Love that pizza!  Canned mushrooms and all!

I also met up with my high school sweetheart for a beer.

My high school sweetheart is roughly the same height as I am - 5'2".  He's always been an aficionado of classic cars.  He's got a '55 Chevy Bel Air wagon, a '57 Chevy truck he borrowed from his dad and just never gave back.  He used to have a '67 Chevy Impala (my personal favorite), but it got wrecked a few years back.

Anyway!  He shows up in a HUGE, modern truck.  Like obnoxious huge.  Like so big that when you opened the doors, it actually had little mechanical sidestep things that came out to help you get in to the cab of the truck. 

I was laughing my ass off!

We went for a beer, but had a hell of a time finding a bar.  Which is weird because small valley towns like Hanford are usually filthy with them!  We ended up at Chili's.  We had a beer, reminisced for awhile, and generally caught up. 

Both trips were a much-needed respite from the stress of our daily lives.

I miss my CA friends and family so much, and it's so nice to be able to finally see them all!  My mom wants to have the kids coming out in the summer become a yearly thing.  I'm fine with that! 

We used to go with my mom to see her sister (and family) in AZ every summer.  Not always the best time (AZ in the summer??) but it was time spent with family and that's a good thing.  If she wants them for awhile in the summer then Dave and I can have a vacation on our own (sweet!) and/or I can hang in CA for awhile with them (also sweet!).

Looking forward to the next summer's adventures, Ruth!