Sweet Brothers

He probably wouldn't admit it, but I think Milo kind of likes his brothers...

EM Whiting Reunion

The first part of August we made another trek to the Whiting Homestead near Springerville, Ariz. This was the "big" reunion that I hadn't been to since it was "Great in '88" and I was eight-years-old. The organizers got wind that we had put on a pretty spectacular play (hehehehe) last year at our little reunion and they invited us to put on "The Cleanest Town in the West" one more time.

After the reunion we headed to Lone Rock Beach at Lake Powell. My kids and I stayed only a day and night as Matt had school that started on that Wednesday.

My family followed a day later to my house. We went to Vegas and visited a buffet (always a highlight), decided the fun dome at Circus Circus didn't look so fun, saw the Mandalay Bay Shark Reef, my two kids and I rode in the elevator with Miss Universe, walked Fremont Street and saw the light show, and visited the pawn shop from the History Channel's "Pawn Stars."

Milo and Lucy Ann
Matt in Holbrook, Ariz. In the back is the house my Grandpa Whiting lived in for a few years when he was younger and again after he and my Grandma were married. Stories I've grown up hearing took place in that very house.

Waiting for the candy cannon to launch

The Swings

Milo and Janna

I Heart Cement

If I could, I would probably cover my back yard in cement - you know, just for maintenance purposes.

Sam talked to me into this little beauty last week. And herein lies one of Sam and I's differences: He wanted a cement pad. Last Wednesday was the first I'd heard of this. The workers scoped it out on Thursday, gave him a price and today, merely a week later, we have a cement pad nearly twice the size as our first home. I have been wanting a retaining wall for four years now. It's still a pipe dream for me.

Sam's arguments for the pad: the kids can play on it so they're not by the road in the driveway/we'll put a garage or shed in the corner for a lot of my junk in the other garage/I'll use it to park my trucks on and work on them at home so I'll be home more and give you a break.

So, the man knows the right buttons to push.

For the future, though, he just better clean up his stinkin' oil spills because it's so pretty right now.

RIP Tachikara

December 1990 - August 19, 2010

He was a good ball.

He was pounded on gym floors during many a Fall.

I was 10 when I found him under the Christmas tree.

He was made of actual leather, a special ball just for me.
He saw action on the carpet of the cultural hall.

He loved it when I'd serve him so hard he made people fall. (OK, not really.)

As with too many things I used to do

He was forgotten once the kids came along, too.

Alone. Outside in the weeds he met his demise.

A tractor ran him down, he must have had a fright.

I hope his last thoughts of us together were swell.

I was so proud of that ball, that ball that taught me to play volleyball well.

Gone, but not forgotten.

Parenting Tip

I allow my children....

...to beat each other...
...this time, with strange pillow-like devices....


....until they deflate....

....and so they sleep well at night.

(Look for my parenting handbook on amazon.com coming soon.)

Mud

This is what happens when I absent-mindedly tell the boys:

"Yea, I don't care. Whatever. Just get out of here."

Toy Story 3 and 3 Little Guys

Call it the summer doldrums: the space between the late spring's false anticipation of leisurely sunning myself by the pool and the reality of post-July 4th's we-haven't-even-hit-the-hottest-part-of-a-St.-George-summer-yet. It's the space in time where the $10 slip-n-slide is no longer a novelty but a piece of plastic and the fantasy of an actual lake trip is put off because it's Sam's "busy time." Mid July beckons with "damn, it's already time for another family reunion," and the reality/guilt that I haven't helped Matt with his reading/math/astrophysics that I dimly remember fervently promising Mrs. Clark I would practice with him.

Yes, the summer doldrums have been a time for bopping in the heat waves, not really accomplishing much other than consuming large quantities of Otter Pops. How did J. Golden Kimball put it..."I don't know how the people of St. George can stand the heat, the snakes, the Indians, and the flooding Virgin River. If I had a house in St. George and a house in hell, I'd rent out the one in St. George and move straight to Hell."

So, we needed an escape from reality. The posse, which includes myself, Matt, Milo, and Cooper (and Cooper is definitely the one in charge) went to see "Toy Story 3." I've never taken my kids to the movie. Never taken them alone, by myself, just me, not one else present for a possible beat down nope, no witnesses, just me.

I was a little apprehensive. I had the towing company phone forwarded to my cell, and did I mention I was alone? Oh yea.

But, it was quite enjoyable. My kids behaved well and Cooper sat through most of it. We were armed with goodies, bought at the gas station beforehand, 'cause you know I ain't gonna be buying none of that stuff at the theater. And we enjoyed the movie. Only one time was Coopie kind of loud. As "Big Baby" came on the screen Cooper said, "Wah, wah, baby bottle. Wah, wah!"

In the movie, Andy got himself all growed-up. Andy's mom cries as she looks around his bare room before he heads to college. Matt leans over to me and whispers, "Mom, will you cry when I go to college?"

"Yes, buddy."

And I had a tear well up in my eye thinking of that day.

I think I can handle these dog days of summer with my three little guys.

(P.S. Without any prompting Matt told me, after the movie, that the train at the beginning was his favorite. Good job, Dan! Dan is my cousin, and an incredible artist, who drew/designed the train for Pixar.)