Nightmare Prologue: The Passport

This is the story of my passport.  It's not a very nice story, and it's not even entertaining.

On March 25th, we went to the courthouse with all my papers.  For whatever reason, they refused to process the application and insisted that we mail everything into the National Passport Center in New Hampshire, which we did that afternoon.  When we arrived home, to our horror, we realized that the second of two pages documenting my legal name change didn't make it into the envelope.  We called to find out how to send the missing page, and were told to wait for a letter with specific instructions.  Until the letter came, there was nothing we could do.  It took a month for the letter to arrive, and of course we sent the final paper immediately.  It was April 27th.

Two weeks came and went, and the situation became nerve wracking.  On May 12th, I called and paid $74.85 to expedite the process and cover overnight shipping.  During this process, I included our flight information, and explained that we needed the passport by the 20th.  By May 17th, I was calling the passport office several times a day.  Each time, I would go through a phone tree to wait on hold so that somebody could tell me that all my papers were there, my payment had come in, and there was simply nothing anybody was ever going to do about it.

I was also told a few times that due to my concern, I could make an appointment at the Houston Agency, which may or may not have any way of contacting the New Hampshire Agency.  It is 2015, and phones were invented in 1876.  In the case of a Houston appointment, I would have to fill out three separate applications because nobody knows which of the three would be appropriate.  One of these applications would claim a "missing passport," rendering the first useless.  I would also need to bring a passport photo, a birth certificate, a copy of my license, proof of travel, a check for $195, an application number, a confirmation number for making the appointment, and the name change documents that were sitting on some asshole's desk in my application.  Also, no matter which course of action I attempted, "nothing was guaranteed."  It was up to me to cancel all the effort of the previous application with little hope for Houston, which was a pretty dreary option.  I tried to schedule that appointment anyway, not having any idea of what else to do, and the first available appointment was on May 27th.

My pointless phone calls to the passport agency soon became an all consuming activity.  On the 19th, after going through this gruelling procedure yet again, I was connected with a supervisor who "sent a note" to the New Hampshire office with additional proof of travel.  Although it is impressive that some form of electronic messaging is available to these people, that attempt did absolutely nothing.  I called once more the night before we needed my passport at 21:30 Eastern Time, half an hour before the office closed.  As usual, all my papers were there, my payment had come in, and there was simply nothing anybody was ever going to do about it.  Overnight shipping won't get a package from New Hampshire to Texas on the same day.  We were doomed.

Due to sheer panic and stress, I called my piano professor, Dr. Betty Mallard, and told her that I wouldn't be able to make our lesson on the 20th.  She told the story to her husband, Dr. Harry Mallard, who thought it would be a good idea for us to look up our congress representative and ask for help.  It was such a long shot on such short notice, but George and I had nowhere else to turn.  Strangely enough, George happens to be a good friend of an Austin congressman's son-in-law, so we asked them for help very late in the evening of the 19th.  We were told to sign a release of information form, fax it to a person who works for the congressman, write the story up in an email, and hope for the best.  We did.  

The first thing in the morning of the 20th, we called the person who works for the congressman.  She had already made a few phone calls, and the New Hampshire office had told her that they "Had finished the passport, but the mail hadn't picked it up."  I can only assume that after hanging up the phone, New Hampshire actually got my passport into the system to cover themselves.  Now that my passport had been completed, we could get it printed in Houston with a special "congressional appointment."  We were in the car by 9:00, at the building by 12:00, and the passport was in our hands by 15:00.  We were home by 18:00 to start packing.  It had taken a nine hour emergency trip and an Act of Congress, but we had my passport.  Thank goodness for the Mallards.  Thank goodness that the congressman's office was so willing to help us out.  We couldn't believe it.  In Houston, we were informed that the New Hampshire office had been told to hold the first passport, which of course wasn't a problem, since they had never put it in the mail in the first place.

Taiwan Part I

Taiwan Part II

Nightmare Epilogue

Sherwood Forest Faire

I don't know about Renaissance festivals.  People say they're fun, but people also like crowded parties, "trivia night," beer pong, football games, loud clubs, action movies, vandalism, driving cars, owning fifty pairs of shoes, and mini-golf.  I'm just not people.  How much fun can it really be to go to a gathering of - I don't know - all those theatre kids that weren't actually talented?  Am I just extrapolating too much from the billboards?

I know I'm making a ton of friends in this post so far, so I'll just move right along.  Needless to say, I had never been to something like this.  George has wanted to go for the past few years, and luckily for me, he's not very good at planning.  All I have to do is not plan it, and poof - it doesn't happen.  This year was different though.  This year for Christmas, my family bought George an opportunity to go skydiving.  Long story short, the whole thing was a disaster, and we ended up taking a road trip just to be cancelled on.  It was a big waste of time, and heartbreaking as well.  George had really prepared himself to jump out of a plane.  On our way home, he saw a billboard for none other than the Sherwood Forest Faire.  He expressed an interest like he always does, and something strange came over me.  I was just so sad for him.  This had to happen.  As soon as we got home, I asked my family about getting a refund for the skydiving and putting all the money towards this thing.  The vote was unanimous, and George got his new and improved Christmas present two weeks ago.

Today was that day, and it was 38 degrees outside.  When it's 55 degrees, you think, "Walking will keep us warm."  When it's 45 degrees, you think, "Walking, hot beverages, and fires will make this just fine."  When it's 38 degrees, you think, "No amount of layering is going to fix this, and we're not going."  But this was George's special day, and I couldn't possibly take it away from him.  As soon as we were on the road, we had to find a detour because the major highway was closed due to ice.  We arrived at 10:00, and by 10:05, I was ready to leave.  The merchants were cold and bored, and because nobody else showed up, they were especially pushy.  Or maybe they're just always that pushy but nobody minds because "it's so fun."  Also, because it is 1194 AD, and maybe everybody in 1194 AD was an asshole who demoralized women for having sex, guess what most of the jokes were like?  So anyway, we get there, and everyone is saying, "Good Morrow, My Lord!," with a fake guffaw, and then a crowd of theatre kids, who are like 50 years old now, guffaw in agreement as if some terrific joke has just been made.  I was right on the money about those damned billboards.

So George is having the time of his life.  It's adorable.  And if that isn't enough to melt my heart, Drakeson was right there with him because there were horses.  We started the morning by watching a play in which the cast outnumbered the audience by a factor of three.  The only part of this that maintained my interest was my own curiosity concerning the price of Robin Hood's well oiled leather hat, but sitting next to my guys was actually so much warmer than standing up, I was happy enough to wait through the whole thing.  As we made our way to the next destination, a merchant got so aggressive with me that I had no choice but to mildly insult his craft.  So then he said, "You know, I'm just kidding with you."  "You know, I'm just responding."  "Don't ever forget that I love you."  "Okay.  I won't forget."  Weirdo.  Anyway, in an effort to kill time before the puppet show, Drakeson and I rode the carousel.  Nobody else was on it, because why would you ride a carousel when it's 38 degrees outside?  Why wouldn't you, say, be at home instead?  Drakeson was shivering, but you can't tell from the pictures because he was so happy.

 Sir Drakeson

And his Dragon Socks

We still had time before the puppet show, so we caught a camel ride.  It's a good thing babies start off with rubber bands in their joints, because he pretty much had to do the splits to ride in "the preferred method."  Again, both my guys were ecstatic.  It was 11:20.

 Theatre Kid and Camels

It was time for the puppet show.  We went to the puppet cart, and just like the carousel and the camel ride, nobody was there.  Two dorks came out and asked the three of us to yell and cheer to try to help them gather a crowd.  Even though this is not my preferred type of activity, I played along, because I do have my limits to social awkwardness.  Had there been six or more people present, I'd be out.  Playing along wasn't actually that bad, though.  It might even have felt kind of good to be nice to those dorks, I don't know.  I do know I'm glad I'll never see them again.  They gave us an option of "The Tortoise and the Hare" and "The Cricket and the Mouse."  After trying to sway us to choose "The Tortoise and the Hare," Drakeson clearly chose "The Cricket and the Mouse," which made me very happy.  After all, it is impolite to offer choices and then take them back.  Then after the mouse had been collecting seeds all winter and the cricket had been frivolously singing a terrible song instead of behaving responsibly, the mouse asked the audience whether or not we should save the cricket.  Drakeson emphatically decided that the cricket should die, which again, made me very happy.  I have no excuse this time for my happiness.
Now we just had to make it to the jousting tournament and we could go home.  Because the tournament didn't start for some time, we fed goats at the King's Petting Zoo.

And went on the pony ride.

And got a bratwurst with sauerkraut and a turkey leg.  We were so hungry, and the food was great.  Once again, I was at the Sherwood Forest Faire enjoying the hell out of my day.  Fancy that.  At last, it was time for the jousting, and we were ready.  Nobody else was there, though, and we probably would have sat in the cold looking at nothing, were it not for a really nice theatre kid who explained that we had misread the schedule.  The next jousting tournament was in 75 minutes, and even though I was shivering enough to cry, I knew Drakeson wanted to see the horses.  Sigh.  Next, we watched an escape artist who was extremely entertaining.  Yes, his jokes were tasteless and racist and sexist, but one must recognize when jokes, even of this kind, are told well.  This was a theatre kid who made theatre kids look cool.  For the duration of this entire show, Drakeson was facing the opposite direction so he could stare at the horses.  Of course our next activity was riding a warhorse, which was awesome, because it used up an extra 1.2 minutes.

Robin Hood and Sir Drakeson: Happy on the Inside

Jousting started at 2:00, and it was 1:25.  (I can do this.)  We walked all over the place, ate spinach pie, ordered an apple crepe, and spent plenty of time by the fire.  Here are some pictures of a fountain we ran into.  Notice how nobody else is anywhere to be found?

Blue Water Dragon

I love them.

I wanted to watch 5 minutes of jousting and go home.  No sooner had we gotten in our seats, when a fat lady with giant breasts smashed out of her corset came over to give Drakeson a flag to wave.  She, herself, wore a flag that said, "pussy."  I didn't get what that was about, but she gave my son a flag, so I liked her.  George put his arm around me, which probably saved my life.  Maybe I could make it 10 minutes.  Then the jousting started, and it was really dangerous.  Maybe I could watch 15 minutes.  Then the big gay jouster was awesome, and there was no way I was not seeing this thing through.  I loved the big gay jouster so much, that completely out of character, I cheered for him.  He totally killed it, and I was ecstatic.  Drakeson couldn't have had a more exciting day from seeing all the animals.  I have no idea why George was so happy, but he was.  What a fantastic time.

Washington II

Guest Writer: George Miner IV

14 Jan 15
This trip started out like many others - preparing to opt out of the new x-ray security system only to be shuttled to the exempt line.  We had a lot of time to kill and decided to waste it window shopping.
I would say that the flight was pretty standard, but when you decide to check your bags in order to make life easier and forget the diaper bag, things get complicated.  This must happen to other people because the Las Vegas airport gift shops will sell you 2 diapers in the wrong size for ~8 dollars.  Thankfully, we weren't the only family with a toddler around, and a successful bartering event made the experience relatively painless.
Once in Seattle, Uncle Steve was there to whisk us away to get Bà and Ông, who were visiting their Virginia friend, Pat Lee.  Mrs. Lee had a lunch and play-date all set up, but poor planning and time management made it so we had to leave and hurry to the next destination.  Some might find it difficult to place blame, but it was almost assuredly Ông's fault.  Emotionally, it was a little upsetting.  Gastrointestinally, it was a nightmare.  Luckily, a chain of seafood experts that call themselves Ivar's saved the pre-dinner starvation.
Seeing the grandparents was especially great.  It's always fun to watch Drakeson get fooled into hugs and kisses.  Years of experience has taught Grandpa Bill many techniques to expedite the process.
Dinner was interesting.  I never would have guessed that the world's best Mai Tai served at a restaurant would be located in the Seattle suburbs.  Go figure.

Grandma knit Tommy this sweater 40 years ago.

 Pianists

Grandma, I'm thirsty.

Grandpa, I'm hungry.

15 Jan 15

When morning came, it was met with a 5-star breakfast made by Uncle Dave.  He apparently gets up every day at the crack of 2 AM to work out and cook.  Unfortunately, that's still thirty minutes after Tom gets up.  After pacing a trail in Uncle Steve and Aunt Myla's rug, Tom decided it sound wisdom to walk to Aunt Mary's house in the cold, wet weather.  Let's not even mention the fact that every trip from Uncle Steve's to Aunt Mary's with Tom was laden with clues that he was never quite sure of the route.  Thankfully, Mom put the foot down and Tom just waited outside. 

After those shenanigans, Tom made up for it by guiding us all South and East through some of the more beautiful country the U.S. can claim.  Mountains, tall trees and blue flags with the number 12 on them surrounded us.  The flags symbolize the Seattle Seahawk's Twelfth Man fanfare and were a constant source of irritation to Tom.  The drive was gorgeous.

For those of you who don't know, Washington is a marijuana legal state.  Without that knowledge, interacting with the people who run the ski resort at Crystal Mountain is sure to make you feel like the world has gone mad.

Here's the gist: Tom buys the gondola tickets and asks whether or not the restaurant is open at the peak.  The ticket sellers say yes.  We then take the tickets 40 yards over, and while boarding, we ask the gondola attendees how the restaurant is doing.  Their reply is that the restaurant is closed due to the inclement weather.  After the ride, we're met by another attendee at the top.  He confirms that the restaurant is closed, but then is unsure if the gift shop is open.  The gift shop is 3 feet under the attendee, and it's closed.  While taking the few photos we could, the weather worsens and the gondola "shuts down" and we are not allowed to ride down at this time.  We are told that we can either wait for the weather to calm or take the regular ski lift down.  The attendant at the ski lift, who is ~40 yards from the gondola attendant, says no one is ever allowed to ride the ski lift down.  After some persuasion, she agrees to let us down, but not before a ski patrolman says we can stay in the warmth of their watch house until the gondola reopens.  We are in the ski patrol house for ~20 minutes.  We ask the patrol people for status reports about every 5 minutes, and the response is always the same- "The crew at the bottom says it's still too dangerous to ride the gondola."  The feeling of insanity really begins to take hold as those words enter our ears while scenes of people riding the gondola up enter our eyes.  After we completely ravaged our emergency supply of trail mix, we decided to risk the ski lift.  Aside from the freezing cold, it provided a beautiful view.  Once off the first lift, we were instructed to take the second one down to the bottom.  At the second lift, the attendant said that people go down the ski lift all the time.  After that bit of inconsistency, we made it to the bottom and decided we earned a meal at "The Snorting Elk."  Ah, The Snorting Elk.  The place where you walk through the door where the sign says the restaurant is located to find that it's a pub, and a worker says that the restaurant is upstairs and guides you through the back stairwell only to enter a restaurant that doesn't open for another hour.

The scenery is gorgeous despite all of the pot-smoke that we mistook for low hanging clouds. 

Driving back was just as beautiful.  Well, maybe everything except eating at Jack in the Box was beautiful.  Drakeson warmed up a bit with Grandma and then it was time to feast at Aunt Mary's/Uncle Dave's house where the food was plentiful and great.  Uncle Steve was on a mission to showcase all of the hops grown in the region...which was fantastic.

My Bà is in the reflection of Dada's sunglasses.

 Not even cold a little bit

 Where's Drakeson?
Right there.

 Nice shirt, Great-Grandma!!

16 Jan 15

It was groundhog day with Uncle Dave and Tom.  Except this time, Tom calls an hour and a half before we're scheduled to pick them up and enquires about a reschedule, which was immediately shot down.  He then gives the new pick-up time of 0830 and was FREAKING OUT when we showed up on time forgetting that he was the one who changed the time from 0815.

The Kingston Ferry was a fun experience.  We didn't really notice the wait to get on because Tom's inability to sit still for 10 seconds had us getting in and out of the car until it was time to board.  One guess who loves being on a boat.  That's right, TOM!  You should have seen this guy.  He was dragging Drakeson around making sure his little eyes took it all in.  Just kidding.  They both were completely giddy about the whole experience.  Rightfully so.  It's an amazing view of the Sound and Seattle.

Next, we got to meet Aunt Patti and Uncle Wendel.  They live in a carved out section of forest in Kingston.  It's hard not to be jealous of their set-up.  Unfortunately, this encounter marked the second time Tom's schedule prevented us from enjoying pre-made refreshments.

Next was a drive through Kingston and on to Olympic National Park.  A quick stop in Port Angeles was made to eat lunch.  Here at Downriggers Restaurant you can have the best-damn pan-fried, oyster po-boy on the planet.  Hands down.

The remainder of the trip to the park is a bit of blur. There was the small infusion of Crystal Mountain Madness with the information guide telling us they're only allowing tire chains at the peak, and then the park ranger at the gate waving us through without even so much as mentioning the road conditions.  We didn't need chains.  Other than that, there were 2 points of interest.  The first, and the less interesting of the two, is that we all learned of Drakeson's snow-eating ability.  Even when one hand is suffering miserably from the cold, Drakeson demands you give him more snow to eat in his other, warmer hand.  Call Guinness.

The other point is that Mom is 100% serious about having her son-in-law spread her ashes from the top of the Blue Glacier by Mount Olympus.  It was all she could talk about.  It was all she could point out on the map.  It was all she wanted to take pictures of.  

From there, we took a trip to Crescent Lake, where Tom displayed some very Crystal Mountain-like behavior. Tom told us that the lodge where he used to work was open, but when we arrived, the two employees working there for an event told us it was closed.  Tom proceeded to ask the gentlemen if it would be alright if we warmed ourselves by the fire.  After receiving permission, Tom spent two minutes reminiscing on the phone booth in the corner before deciding to leave.  Despite this peculiar running gag, we were able to take in the view of the lake from a pier before being devoured by mutant mosquitoes. 

Next was a mad dash to Sound Brewery in Poulsbo to acquire a bottle of Monk's Indiscretion for Uncle Steve.  A very good selection at that.  We drove back to the ferry, but not before downing some crepes at a local shop by the dock.  Then it was off to eat Pho at Pho To Chau.  Not a bad end to the day.

Where's Bà?

 "Make sure you get the snow I'm eating in the picture."

 Bà's ashes go over there.

Olympic National Park

17 Jan 15

There was no rush to get out of bed today, but Uncle Dave still had a smorgasbord prepared by six and 1000-to-1 odds that Tom was up before God and pacing outside waiting to get started.  But, because we had no plans for the morning, it became a free-for-all.  A group of gym goers (Uncle Dave, Tom and George) went to Uncle Dave's really nice gym that only charges 11 bucks a month.  Another group of fun lovers went to Uncle Steve's and sipped on beverages while watching Frozen.  Hard to say which group had the better time.  Probably the fun lovers.

Next it was off to Christ the King Lutheran Church for a gigantic lunch and birthday cake with the whole family.  Our group decided it was best to not pay attention to the people we were following and get a little lost.  Thanks to our trusty phone GPS devices, it only took us one really confusing route to get back on track.  

Another interesting thing came to light; Drakeson loves shrimp about as much as he loves snow.  The vegetarian pizza was the underdog favorite over the meat and everyone enjoyed the Grandma/Lan piano duets.  Aside from Drakeson's parents not bringing the diaper bag and getting lucky with the nursery carrying diapers one size too small, it was a great lunch.

The obligatory visit to the Pike Place Market was next.  It was here that we discovered that the original Starbucks is the only Starbucks so popular that there are actually 2 lines coming out the door.  The market is also the headquarters for Market Spice; dealers of a black tea that Lan has become obsessed with.

We took the scenic route home to Uncle Steve's and spent the evening singing, eating, drinking a Herculean amount of beer, and listening to Lan play the piano.  Also, Drakeson became Uncle Steve's favorite by cuddling with him while watching hockey.

Soon it was time for Mom and Tom to catch the red-eye back to Virginia and we hit the hay.

 "Just a little closer"

Kittes

Why is the outlet sideways?

Uncle Steve refuses to bear teeth

Too many cameras

More Kittes

MYLA HUGS!!

18 Jan 15

The final day proved a few things.  One is that Uncle Dave doesn't stop until he's crossed the finish line- one last, great breakfast.  Another is that the best time to leave a bustling town like Seattle is when everyone is trying to come in to watch the Seahawks beat the Packers.  Lastly, Lan's mastery of logic and it's application to puzzles completed on the plane made the time fly by.  

Until next year.

Dalmatians

Christmas Into the Popcorn

Mom, Dad, and Bà arrived late on the 24th, and of course, Dad wanted to go to sleep immediately.  We opened a few presents and drove by two well-lit neighborhoods before picking up Thal.  There was too much hustle and bustle for it to feel like much of a Christmas Eve, and the next morning was no better.  George made a batch of Alton Brown's waffles, while I gave four haircuts.  Thal and I prepared a big pot of mulled wine, a gelato base, and six large chocolate bars while Mom and Bà prepped the annual Christmas springrolls.  Before too long, we picked up Lien (Tins) and Bill from the airport, fired up the grill, and had a feast.  After the second annual Christmas committee presentations, the singers gathered around the piano and called Grandma Volkert, reliant on the hope that nobody can hear anything over a telephone line.  To our horror, we later found out that Bill had made a video of the call.  Then he posted it to the internet.  As nighttime settled, Mom and Bà stayed home with Drakeson while everybody else saw "Into the Woods."  Tins and I had to work extra hard to keep the folks up for wine and homemade brandy eggnog gelato.

Merry Christmas!

December 26th felt more like Christmas.  It started with lavender scones infused with extra culinary lavender and lavender honey.  George took Thal to Austin Homebrew, and Dad and Bill ran a million miles at Town Lake.  Warren came into town with the pootees, and after much ado, everybody eventually ended up at Hopdoddy.  The little ones ran around the Galindo playground, while the elders started a jigsaw puzzle and napped.  George, Thal, and BLT went to the Hops & Grain Brewery Tour before Zach Theatre's "This Wonderful Life," and somewhere in the midst, they went out to dinner twice.  The older crowd and I very sensibly enjoyed leftovers, made a little progress on the puzzle, and caught the light show at Mozart's on the water.  To each, his own.

"You wish to have the curse reversed?  I'll need a certain potion first."

"Go to the woods and bring me back

One: the gelato as white as milk,

Two: the wine as red as blood,

Three: the beer as yellow as corn,

Four: the rumcake as pure as gold!"

On the second day of puzzling, my true love gave to me, the picture sealed and hung so prettily.

George and Thal brewed an IPA in the morning, and then the boys and Mom went to the Jester King brewery tour.  Bà, Tins, and I made four stuffed salmon lasagnes, which took just as long as one might guess.  It was great to have some sister time, and we started the impossibly charming 1978 BBC production of "She Loves Me."  After dinner, the youngsters went to Austin Beer Garden Brewing while I took the folks and Bà to Zach Theatre's "A Christmas Carol."  If this sounds like a lot of drinking, I might take this opportunity to note that there was a second pot of bubbly mulled wine, and the fridge was stocked with plenty of beer, including two different home brews.

"Into the woods without regret,
The choice is made, the task is set."

"Into the woods to get my wish,

I don't care how, the time is now."

Thal had to leave early in the morning.  A lot of things happened on Dec 28, but perhaps the most significant was the discovery that Bà had been consistently overdosing on Nyquil.

Nyquil

(28th, cont.) Both in-house physicians were seriously, and understandably, concerned.  After a visit to the zoo, it was a comfortable afternoon filled with red wine chocolate cake and card games.  Dinner was at the not-very-Hawaiian Hula Hut, and the evening ended with a cold but snuggly light show at Mozart's.

"Bring me these before the chime of midnight in three days' time.
And you shall have, I guarantee, a child as perfect as child can be."

In this moment, a great power cast a spell on Cô Tins;

She would cherish her nephew from this day forward.

See?

Dec 29th was my parents' anniversary and the grand finale of the entire trip.  We spent the morning at the ever lovely Mollberg Piano Restoration and had a terrific lunch at the Redbud Cafe.  It was our last day together, so Tins and I made rum cake pops and chocolate tofu silk pie.  The evening started with another drive out of town to the Salt Lick and a walk around the Wimberley Holiday Trail of Lights.  We couldn't have asked for better weather.

Bà

Mom

It's the last midnight, so goodbye all.

That brings us to today, which was more about packing and recovering than anything else.  BLT left early in the morning.  The rest of us piled into the front room and watched "The Muppet Christmas Carol," and then it was off the the airport with Bà and the parents.  Even though there was so much to do, it went by quickly for me.  Drakeson was pretty heartbroken, and I felt myself feeling that way too.  'Til next time.

Train Whistle

Outtake for the better one at the bottom of this post

Cranberries

For the past 20 years, I've made cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving, and done it the same way every time.  This year, as George was helping me stir, he said,
"Can I tell you something that will embarrass you a little?"
"Sure."
"You make the holidays special."
Well.  If that wasn't an inspiration to write a quick blog post on cranberry sauce, I don't know what would be.  Besides, what if somebody wanted to make my cranberry sauce, but hated talking to me on the phone?  Such an event would give this post a real purpose.

Disclaimer: I do not have an exceptionally well lit kitchen and the mastery of photography necessary to attempt some Pinterest-like post.  I just used my phone, blurred the edges in iphoto a little, and hoped for the best.  Motherhood makes underachievers of many.

You will need:
2 bags of cranberries
2 cups fresh orange juice (8 - 10 oranges)
2 cups of sugar

Directions:
1)  Wash your produce.
2)  Either juice 2 cups of orange juice or make somebody else do it.  That's the hardest part.
3)  Put 2 bags of cranberries, 2 cups of orange juice, and 2 cups of sugar on medium high heat.
4)  Put in a bunch of zest if you like orange oil.  I use a ton.
5)  Stir occasionally.
You will hear the cranberries pop and see the orange juice foam up, and it will be really fun:

6)  Keep at it.  The orange will disappear and you'll be left with pretty pink bubbles.

7)  Once the bubbles disappear, pour into a serving dish and let cool.

8)  Cover and refrigerate overnight.  It's nearly impossible to mess up.

Owie

We found Drakeson's knight costume for $2.99.

It sounds like a good deal.  But the decision also meant that I would lose my head and buy a $30 dress, get George a large and cumbersome dragon hat for $17 (where are we going to keep that all year?), and obsess over making Drakeson's sword match his costume for 2 days.  Every time the spray paint would clump or stick, I would live in some sort of state of mild panic until it was dry enough to sand and I could just pretend that the "disaster hadn't happened."  Eventually I ran out of paint, and that was when the project was done.  George says I put too much pressure on myself.

Anyway, the sword was a gift from the Healy clan, and I just happened to have had the sand paper, grey paint, masking tape, electric tape, stickers, stamps, permanent ink pad, and 2 stretchy velcro ipod arm bands on hand.  For some reason, the black bungee cord and clamp just sort of showed up on our front door yesterday afternoon.  I think the mailman dropped it.

There isn't much more to say, except that if some day Drakeson wonders whether or not I love him, I hope he stumbles across this post and concludes that either I love him, or I have an obsessive personality.  It's an inclusive or, but meant to be interpreted as an exclusive one.  Who ever said I didn't have a terrific sense of humor?

Owie

Full Costume

Shiny Jewels

$33

Fish II

Angel and Greg came from the South of France to the States for Angelo's wedding.  I've known Angel for the past 26 years, so we were thrilled to plan a visit in Austin from Tuesday to Friday.  We spent the mornings at Mr. Will's Singalong, the Thinkery, the Zilker Nature & Science Center, Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, Stacy Pool, Deep Eddy Pool, and Barton Springs.  Restaurants of note were Hopdoddy, Chuy's, and Gourdough's.  The afternoons were spent napping, and the evenings were with Ms. Cathy.

Here's the Ms. Cathy part.  She's so awesome.

(Here's a link to Water Dragon I if you missed it)