Tea for How Many?

  My dad drinks milk and sugar in his tea.  This is how I learned to drink tea.  More milk than tea. Plenty of sugar.  I had a cup like that with my dad last weekend.  My dad remembers how he likes his tea.  

Not sure he remembers me.  But I'm pretty sure he still loves me.

Thank Boo Very Much

Expressing a little appreciation to those who traveled the Ghost Town Trail with me. 

Thank you, Jake and Dan, for letting me take the lead.  Five different times. 

 Thank you, STP, for sticking with me. 

 And humoring me by riding back and forth over the bridge so I could get your picture.

Thank you, Nancyann, for driving a gazillion miles so you could bike 18.

And for the t-shirts.  Glad we happen to be in the same family.

Thank you, Uncle Ronnie.  For providing extra bikes.  And helmets.  And for organizing and taking the lead.  And for riding clean-up.  And for not jumping out of the woods and scaring me right off my  bike. We couldn't  wouldn't do this without you. 

Thank you sag wagon crew.   For hauling downed bikes and tired and pregnant bikers.

 For delivering lunch.

And driving us home.

And thank you, Uncle Michael, for being so good looking.  

It's not every day that you get to ride bikes with a cello player and a ukulele player.  With a handicapped lady and a pregnant lady.  With a Jedi knight and Captain America.

Truly, I am thankful.

Driving Myself Crazy

Drove myself to Denver today.  See this map?  All three white lines are Quebec Street.  Two of them are mono-directional. In opposite directions. The third Quebec street is the one I wanted.  And see E 40th Ave.?  It is also called Sandown Street.  This is good info--too late.
My GPS tried to help.  Arriving at destination?  Sure, if I wanted to park on the un-named yellow on ramp to I-70 E and jump a chain link fence with my suitcase.  Recalculating?  I think so.
A trucker tried to help by beeping his horn at me.  Unfortunately, (or maybe fortunately) I don't understand city horn honking. Believe me, if I knew where to go and what to do, I would have already been doing it.
A young woman thought it might be helpful to express her displeasure at my merging skills.  I hope her gesture made her feel better.  It wasn't particularly encouraging to me.
When I finally arrived at my hotel, (after circling it twice and a short unplanned drive on I-70 E) they let me park wherever I wanted. (Which I did like a champ!)  They processed my reservation without any problem.  And they offered me a warm chocolate chip cookie.  The beautiful young woman at the desk asked me how many cookies I needed.
One.  I just needed one.   Dozen.
So looking forward to the shuttle which will take me to class tomorrow am.

Lacking Wisdom

Gave the Goob my dentist appt. in August to have his teeth cleaned before he left for school. Because we had to cancel his appt earlier in the summer and they couldn't get him in again until September. He and the STP came home from the Tuesday appt with an appt to have his 4 wisdom teeth removed on Thursday.  

Seriously?  I think it is like a woman taking her car to the garage to have the oil changed and they convince her she needs new brakes and the transmission may be bad.  

Hey, we have this cancellation for wisdom teeth extraction day after tomorrow.  

Look, this kid has 4 wisdom teeth.  Lets take them out.

So they did.  The dentist commended him for being a great patient because the extraction wasn't easy. Filed that under 'things I never thought I would hear a dentist say about the Goob'.  He had to spend a couple of days swishing his swollen mouth and limiting his activity to video games on the couch. Big stretch there.
A little iffy to have your wisdom extracted a week before you leave for the university.  Just saying.

Really just recording this here, because I couldn't remember if all the girls had their wisdom teeth removed or not.  This blog is as close as I have to a medical record.

Sixteen Letters

First week of college and I have already received 16 letters from the Goob.  All of them in response to my text messages. I am trying not to be a helicopter mom, but after six days I needed to know if he was still alive.  So I just asked him.  Which ellicited a three letter response.  

 After a full week, I made contact again.   I used a minimum number of characters to share a little information to let him know we were carrying on life even in his absence, and I let him know we were still here to support him--in the form of a question, which garnered another 3 letter response.  

Late Saturday night I sent him a message just to let him know I loved him (and to see if he was staying up late).

His 10 letter response?  Love you too

Sixteen letters.  That about says it all.