The Emu Ate My Baby

Patrice called this morning to let us know that there was a petting zoo in the mall parking lot. Admission was just a dollar and there were camel rides for just five dollars. Fantastic! I told Nicco that we were going to get dressed and go have some fun. He protested that he "usually has fun at home." (I wonder where he gets that attitude? Surely not from his anti-social mom...)


I did manage to convince him to shuffle on out the door in search of fun. We got to the mall and I saw no evidence whatsoever of a petting zoo with camel rides. Finally, tucked way in the back, I saw the big tent housing the animals. We bought a little cup of grains to feed the animals, and Nicco was thrilled!

These little cavies were like giant rabbits, and easily his favorite animal there.

He also enjoyed this curious 4-horned breed of goat.

Although the cavies were the favorite, seeing the zebra up close was the most exciting. The sign on the fence says "DO NOT FEED FINGERS TO THE ANIMALS." One would be wise to heed such a warning.

Here's the camel, in a large, open area of the parking lot. Alone. Wandering slowly around his fenced territory, sauntering past the abandoned ladder and saddle and sign advertising $5 camel rides. After the emu incident, there would be no convincing Nicco to ride a camel, even if there had been someone around to provide such a ride.

And here's the emu. The dirty, sneaky emu. Those shovels are available for feeding the animals, you know, in order to avoid feeding fingers to the animals. The thing is, the emu has that really long, really skinny neck and head, and fingers are just entirely too enticing. My boy got nipped. Blast you, emu! Nicco held his finger bravely, with just a hint of a chin quiver. It took a while, but the sobs that eventually burst from him indicated more of a broken little heart than a hurt finger. It was a similar cry to the one he uttered at Diana's house last summer when Gary smacked him across the noggin. He loves the animals and it hurts his tender feelings when they don't love him back.

The broken heart cry escalated into full on hyperventilating sobs. Justified, as you can see, by the incredible damage inflicted by the emu bite. What? You can't see the owie? I know, the picture is fuzzy. Look really close...it's the middle finger. Maybe squint your eyes a little. Oh, you still can't see it? Yeah...

Even though the finger owie was minor, the heartbreak was major. So I took my boy to Burger King for the perfect remedy: French Fries.

And all is right with the world.

Again, with the Passive Aggressive

I don't want to be THAT neighbor, so I won't call the HOA. But seriously...I don't have pets! I don't want pets! The main reason I don't want pets is that I don't want them crapping in my yard and I don't want to clean up crap! So if I don't want to clean up my OWN (non-existent) pet's crap, I REALLY don't want to clean up after someone else's VERY REAL pet! By the way, when the crap is way up there by my house, not anywhere near the sidewalk, it is just that much more aggravating. Grr.

On a related side note, I spent WAY too much time here this afternoon:
http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/

This Day In History

March 23, 1775

The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable--and let it come! I repeat, sir, let it come!

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry "Peace! Peace!" but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!

Patrick Henry

Trains and Trainwrecks

Because I couldn't get to Washington to join these Patriots trying to stop the trainwreck that is Obamacare,
I took Nicco to meet his new friend at Tucson's transportation museum for the 130th anniversary of the railroad coming to our fair town.

The first train in Tucson sits as a monument to rail history. The festival opened with a boom and shriek of the train's whistle that startled and thrilled our boys.

Nicco and his new friend (yay) were enthralled.

There was a craft fair too, and these jewlers let little guys like ours spin the wheel for a quarter to win a small gem prize. Nicco got turquoise and a tiger's eye.

This little historic celebration was so poorly organized...the program listed an opening ceremony (the boom and whistle), model trains, train rides...We could not see the train ride anywhere. We wandered around for half an hour, inquiring whenever we encountered someone who looked like they should have a clue, but no one did. The train ride itself was a series of "what the what?" moments...when we finally found it, there were a bunch of little kids in the cars, waiting. No driver. Engines off. Why on earth did parents put their kids in the cars when no in-charge type person was around? Oh...because the in-charge person loaded the train full of little ones then discovered that the engine didn't start and left the train full of little ones to get help. The in-charge person came back with help, inflated the bouncy house, left it unattended, and went to drive the train. Straight into a crowd of outdoor diners at the train depot restaurant. Meanwhile, we delayed letting our kiddos into the bouncy house, you know, because it was unattended by an in-charge person. Then other moms let their kids in, so the free for all was on. Nicco bounced for a while, the new friend Caleb was too intimidated. Finally, the in-charge person figured out the train problems and drove it back to the semblance of a line of waiting kids. He left his post (train empty, engines running...) to check on something. Amber (new friend Caleb's mom) and I waited for him to return before letting our kids on the train, but random moms away from the gathered crowd of kids CLEARLY waiting for the train started putting their kids on the train. Grrr. Our littles got on the train for the first round, then the crowd thinned out. So lucky for Nicco, they just kept on riding. He got to ride in each different car one time.

They went back to the bouncy house for a second round, then Caleb took us on a quest for ice cream.

On the way, we passed Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday. Little Tombstone Vigilante Nicco fit right in, donning the sheriff's badge a historically dressed wild west reenactor gave to him.

We didn't find ice cream, but there was birthday cake for the 130 year old train.

After all that fun in the wind and sun, Nicco was exhausted. He didn't last long in the car.

Feeling Feisty

You know, in a passive-aggressive sort of way.

I filled out my 2010 census today. I'm torn on how I feel about the census. On the one hand, it is important relating to congressional district/representation. On the other hand, doesn't the IRS pretty much know who everyone in every (tax-paying) household is? And by the way, if you aren't paying taxes, you shouldn't get representation. Also, the census is a head count. Legitimate census info includes number and age of people in the household.

I'm not really bothered by the gender question, or the race question in general. On the other hand, distinguishing hispanic races and actually stating that "for this census, hispanic origins are not races" did bother me quite a bit. Also, breaking hispanic races, black races, and asian races into special categories (What, pray tell, is the difference between black, african am, and negro? It must be a black thang that I just don't understand. Okay, fine...then why aren't whites distinguished among white, white am, and perhaps European white? Seriously...Irish white is definitely not the same as Scandinavian white.)

Also, financial information doesn't qualify as head count details. Whether we own via mortgage, free and clear, rent or squat (really--occupy without payment or rent????) isn't a detail I feel like sharing with the census bureau.

Also, a head count doesn't require names.

Also, a head count doesn't require a phone number.

My passive aggressive rebellious statement in the form of the census states that:

• Persons 1, 2, and 3 reside in our home.
• Persons 1 and 3 are males, Person 2 is female.
• Persons 1,2, and 3 are French American and Danish/Swedish/English American.
• Persons 1,2, and 3 will not divulge financial information, nor will they provide a phone number. If the census bureau "doesn't understand an answer" on our form, instead of calling for clarification, they can just understand by our omission of the phone number that we think they are morons.

TAKE THAT!

Spring

New green growth on the Ocotillo

Red blossoms on the aloe

Orange blossoms (or lemon, or grapefruit...not sure.)

Moving Day

Our moving day was too busy and chaotic for me to snap many pictures. Here is one of our boxes and piles.
My Relief Society president and counselor popped in today and were amazed that we have only been here for two weeks since we already have everything organized and put away and pictures up on walls. Little did they know it only took 3 days to get from the mess in the picture above to our cozy little home.

One of the first things we did was to set up a comfy place for Nicco to hide away from all the chaos. Patrice hooked up the TV for him to watch Penguins and Nicco collected pillows, blankets, his soft chair and some soft buddies. He called it his "shop." One time he wandered out and invited us to come to his shop, enticing us with the line "It's fun, and it's free!"

This is the view of our mountains on Sunday morning. We moved Saturday morning under cloudy skies, but no rain. In the middle of the night, the rain poured and poured, thunder crashed, lightning flashed, wind howled, and it continued to rain all day Sunday. We felt very fortunate not to have loaded and unloaded in that storm.

And this is the view of our mountains at sunset on Monday night following the Sunday storm.

After we got moved in, the first person Patrice called was the pool guy. We enjoyed a relaxing soak and relieved all the aches and pains of the move.

Painting with Grandma

Before Mom and Dad arrived for their visit, Nicco called them and chatted for a few minutes. Grandpa teased him about tickle tortures and wrestling matches, and they made plans to go to the airport museum. A moment after they finished their conversation and hung up, Nicco told me he had "One more thing to tell Grandma." So we rang them up again and when Grandma answered, Nicco told her "You and me are going to paint." Then he hung up. One thing. That was all he had to say.
When Grandma arrived, Nicco sat her down at the table to paint.

Alice from the Wonderland

Monday was a crappy and cold day. We had plans to visit a garden museum or perhaps take a little trip to a nearby artsy town, but with the wind and rain, we were not highly motivated to wander around outdoors. Instead, we decided to go to a movie. We chose Alice in Wonderland because (Johnny Depp) it was the only movie available that we thought Nicco might enjoy and (Johnny Depp) it was in 3-D. The movie was a little scarier than I thought it would be, and I wasn't sure Nicco even liked it. However, the next day when I picked him up from school the first thing he said to me was "That Alice from the Wonderland sure was great." He wore his "cool" glasses around for the rest of the day and brought them to the restaurant later that evening. He even drew a picture of them on the tablecloth.

His drawing and writing are getting better and better! (So proud) This morning I called him "Mr. Cool" and he said "I am not cool because I'm not wearing my cool 3-D glasses." He did make a fashion statement in his glasses and grey sweats. I'm not sure "cool" is the correct label for his look.

The Magic Flute

A wooden flute is one of the treasures we rediscovered during our unpacking. Nicco played a one note version of B-I-N-G-O over and over again to get Patrice to set up the wii. I don't remember how exactly he got it into his head that his musical expressions are magic, but he played and played and played until his Daddy bent to his will. "It's working!" he exclaimed, when Patrice plugged in the final plug and the game console hummed to life. I thought Nicco was actually excited to play the wii, but I was wrong. About as soon as it was up and running, he tucked himself and all his stuff into this little corner on top of a pile of pillows and underneath a pile of blankets to watch me play.

The Air Force Museum Revisited

Both Grandpa and Nicco had the Air Force Museum on their list of things to do this visit. I checked the hours and rates and information about shuttles to the Air Force Base too, and figured that we could get over there and spend about an hour at the museum and an hour on the base tour and be home in time for a bit of a late lunch. The best laid plans, right? Everything is busier in the early spring than the late summer. We arrived around 12:30, but the earliest bus tour available wasn't until 3:00. Also, I forgot that you must have a government issued I.D. to go onto the base. Mom didn't have hers, so that was a bummer. We debated for a little while about the best approach to the day. I was a little bit anxious about Nicco's tolerance level for about 4 hours at the museum. I need not have worried. Airplanes, after all. So we did wander about the museum for a couple of hours together before Dad and I left Grandma behind with Nicco while we toured the Boneyard at the base.

Here, Nicco is explaining the airplane engines are really really heavy and he can't even pick this one up.

He quickly worked his way to his favorite part of the museum, the buttons.

More buttons. We played pilot for a good long time.

Nicco is listening to the sonic booms from the Blackbird.

Last time we were here, we didn't go into the Space Gallery. This time we did and joy of joys, dirt! Digging! That was almost as much fun as the buttons! Only it was new! More fun!

The pleasant and kind little old volunteer Vet showed Nicco his secret stash of moon rocks and minerals.

Nicco the astronaut

Nicco on the moon!

Nicco's favorite plane, the Blue Angel

His other favorite, the big and huge plane that looks like a whale.

Even though our excursion was much longer than we anticipated, we still enjoyed the visit. The Air Force pilots were getting ready for an upcoming air show, so watching them practice their patterns and formations was an added bonus.

Honeybee Trail

A few days ago, we read about a nice, easy hike in Oro Valley with "sweeping desert views" and "spectacular Catalina vistas" where we could also spot petroglyphs on the canyon walls. To get out of the house one warm day, we decided to check it out. Honeybee Trail is not that well marked and we were a little fortunate to spot it off to the side of the road.
One of the sweeping desert views. (I thought I rotated that picture...oh well)

Another one of the desert flora.

The cacti are probably a week or two from being in full bloom. I told mom and dad that when they come next year, they should come later in the spring to see the blooms. Dad protested, since other than seeing Nicco, their main motivation is to escape Colorado in February.

Here's my boy at the beginning of the hike at the mouth of the canyon. It didn't seem like we were allowed to wander down into the canyon, so we missed the petroglyphs. I think that if we took the upper trail, it would have led us into the canyon to see them. Next time.

Nicco does not like the "pokeys" and threw handfuls of dirt and rocks at all the cacti in his path. He accompanied these throws with shooting and exploding noises and maniacal laughter and he ridiculed the cacti with such phrases as "How do you like them apples?"

Any trek takes longer when you have small fries along, but this walk was extended beyond normal 4-year-old sluggishness because he stopped every 2 seconds to pick up rocks and dirt.

His rocks got bigger and bigger as we progressed along the path.

Walking with Grandma

Resting with Grandpa

In my motherly wisdom, I FINALLY decided to tell Nicco that it is not really a good idea to dig in the dirt and pick up the rocks in the desert because the critters who live beneath them are mean and nasty and bite and sting. He proceeded along the trail picking up rocks and stirring up dirt, saying "No creatures here. No creatures under this rock. No creatures in this hole." I think he missed the point.

Looking for "creatures"

The dried up wash a couple days after some big rain

At the end of the hike. We walked for close to 2 hours and Nicco only asked me to take him once. We went to the Keva smoothie joint for a refreshing treat after our day walking in the sun. The little tourist magazine we read to find this place was right. It was a delightful walk with some spectacular views. It also has some really nice picnic areas. I am sure we will re-visit it in the future.