It is a very good thing Oreos are not made by elves because a certain person here might be in for quite an attack of irate Keebs:
(My grandson brought me the evidence – Oreos with naked middles – and suggested I post a picture on “The Mad Cow”.)
Air Force Museum – lots and lots of kid taken pictures
For whom Quentin was named.
Tattered cuff on a flight jacket indicating to grandkids where he had been stationed. Thirty-five years ago, his father was pointing out things about WWII planes in the museum.
This reminded Cameron of Summer.
Let’s see, for our trip to Fairborn, I downloaded 271 pictures from one camera and 574 from another . . . and then another download of about a hundred. Almost all are taken by grandkids. Last night I sent about 300 to Ofoto and tonight I will try and use the dead of night to upload the rest. Summer enjoyed taking pictures of road signs, her shoes, the dashboard and the clock at high noon. We also have pictures of Grover’s Room – sans Grover because he had retired to a secret location. Oh, yes, we have pictures of food – food at restaurants, food in the car, food from take-out, food in the pantry.
Picture took “spy” pictures out of Grover’s window and I took a picture of her sprawled out taking those pictures. We both took pictures from the balcony and then faced each other and took “dueling camera” photos. Next time I will need to take more cameras . . . Der Bingle offered us an old camera he had but it was below our pixel acceptance rate. (Summer and I are more into zooming and high pixel numbers than proficiency in photography.)
Cameron was a serious historical-record picture-taking guy so we have documentation of what we saw. We also have pictures of the way home and the sign “Welcome to Indiana”.
Cheesecake Factory in Dayton.
We lunched at The Cheesecake Factory and then went on to the Air Force Museum . . . so many pictures to download. But here’s one from TCF.
Fairborn
They were hungry; we went to Meijers; we saw someone locked out of their car. I took a picture; Summer was embrassed; Cameron was impressed by his “agressiive grandma”.
He exclaimed:
WHO KNEW??
Road trip
Tomorrow the car will pull out of the driveway with Grandma (me), Cameron and Summer on a trip to the Ohio Redoubt of the West Facing Cave at . . . EIGHT in the morning. I announced this. I got incredulous looks. By the way, Grover is finding places to hide. I may do that as well. So far I have worked myself up to declaring: “I will not be adverse to turning the car around if we have a sibling problem.” I’m working on other tidbits – such as “Get in the Trunk.”
Rufus and mommy bloggers
Rufus stops in daily here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse; he is somewhere around my age – that is, to say, “He’ll never see 60 again.” He’s a professor on sabbatical and likes to bring his laptop into the PBC to use our Wi-Fi and have the facts at hand when a question comes up – whether it have to do with geographical information or who played what role in that movie in 1953. Of course, they often can’t recall the title so Rufus and his buddies, of whom I count myself, join in adding remembered plot twists and so forth into the Google search engine.
Today, though, he announced one of his former students had become a “mommy blogger” and we all decided to see what she had to say. Well, Rufus was not surprised to learn she wrote her entries as she had written her essays – lots of detail and excellent grammar. A lot of information. Clever. However, as he read and as we read over his shoulder – or followed along on our own laptops – it became apparent her “lots of information” responses have become “too much information.” Oh, yeah. A lot of too much information.
Right now there’s a lot of talk about baby (excuse me) poop and pots to pee in. We are wondering what these bloggers will write about when they get to be our age – constipation, Depends and gallbladders?
Fairborn Squares
More and more of our denizens have decided to go visit the Ohio Redoubt of the West Facing Cave and they may be planning a Hollywood show;
Top row: Rose, California LemonHead, Alien Poo
Second Row: Polar Bear Escapee, Grover, Bing
Third Row: Otter. Hurry guys, only two more spots left.
William Holden – I avoid his movies
Unfortunately, William Holden in in The Bridge Over the River Kwai, but then I tune his scenes out or use them for commercial breaks. I don’t kow why I am bringing this up now, other than I just turned on Turner Classic Movies and Love is a Many Splendored Thing is on . . . and, of course, so is William Holden. What IS it that I can’t stand about William Holden? Oh, I don’t even want to think about it.
Spring Break
Yes, once again Spring Break for the grandkids has rolled around. Whoa. I just stopped typing cold. Bam. No fingers moving or even twitching . . . because I am overwhelmed with the thought of the coming week. Perhaps we should have a theme for the week – maybe Monastery of Silence meets Nuns Who Speakth Not. Or maybe I will go to Spring Bird Camp, which annually meets this time of the year at the northwest corner of the porch. The curriculum is to learn to fly through the westernmost north porch window, continue through the nothernmost west porch window, then on to the windows that form the northwest corner of the house. I almost think the constant thunking of my head would be preferable to the week of time with the spring chickens.
Oh, and yeah, after I hear the first couple of thunks, I scoot something in front of the first window to discourage attempted fly-throughs, but those guys are so insistent.
This morning I looked over at one of the three piece hinged mirrors I picked up at an auction for almost nothing. Each piece is framed in wood and the hinges are brass and where they can be seen. That’s fine, except just lately I moved it onto a spot where two of the three mirrors are in a straight line. Stand and look in them and you have a slender body, but no head. Okay, I guess it is on to Plan B. Although . . . the body appears fit and you don’t have to gringe at winkles and crazed hair.
It was Saturday night in the Foo Bar and so now it is quiet here . . . just us old fuddy-duddy Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse.
My hair is not blue
This morning my daughter-in-law showed me an article in the paper about a hair stylist I used to patronize who was opening her own salon; and so I put on my coat and went down and made an appointment and GOT MY HAIR COLORED to hide the grey. Now I know it is still there and I am still 60. but I think I look more vibrant – my hair had become just a really mousy, faded greyish brown for about half-way down my head.
I guess I will be doing this every six weeks now, and maybe when I firm up, I will have it cut. Right now, I am keeping it long enough to pull back neatly into a barrette; that seems especially important with the humidity of summer coming on.
One thing, though. My hair has always felt like corn silk. Now it feels the way I would imagine that “green foamy – cover bare spots in your yard – replacement grass” would feel. However, my imagination may be overactive.
At least maybe now they will let me in the Foo Bar, since they said I was so dowdy I would have to stay in the PBC&R all the time. Gosh, that hurt.
Summer and Der Bingle are at the movies – The Watchman, or something like that. It’s 2 hours and 43 minutes so Summer should get her money’s worth with Coke and popcorn refills.