Well thank goodness the trip wasn't all nursing home all the time. Even though my Mom was working during the weekdays we still got our evenings and one whole weekend with her. She also took the Friday we were there off. Nana, as my kids call her, is madly in love with my kids. I'm an only child hence making them her only grandchildren. To say she is nuts about them is the understatement of the century.
Samuel slept with Nana the whole time we were there and they were both in sheer heaven. Think ice cream sundae with sprinkles and cookie crumbles and chocolate syrup with a side of Doritos and washing it down with apple juice that isn't watered down and you may come close to how Samuel felt about sleeping in Nana's "big bed".
I love this picture of the 3 of them in the nursing home's garden. They are looking at ladybugs.
No one will believe this but by "total accident" our spontaneous trip coincided with Park City Daze and yes, that is days spelled like daze. Or perhaps I should say, 'spelt like dayz' because I'm quite sure somewhere when the concept of Park City Daze originated the conversation went like this,
"We should have some sort of festival where people come from the two bars in town, together for one night, in the middle of the one main road and drink and dance. And it will last all day long and we'll even have a parade with like the one fire engine and the one ambulance and they can drive down main street and throw candy."
"Yes, and we can call it Park City Days".
"But its only one day".
"Well then lets spell it with a "z".
And then there were a lot of high fives and beer can toasting.
In 154 dog years we have seen each other through dozens of boyfriends and subsequent break ups, high school graduation, college graduations, several moves, 3 marriages, 1 divorce, 3 kids and 6 Sawyer Brown concerts. Traci is my North Star.
Ok, here's how I tie in the next story: one night we had Mark and Jami Broyles over for dinner and we barbecued and had fresh corn.
Mark and Jami are central characters in the Hot Jeff and Jen love story. If it weren't for them I would have never gone to Alaska and would have never met Jeff, the dead sexiest man alive.
Jami and I met in college and have been dear friends ever since. Mark was Jami's high school sweetheart, sigh. Jami is the type of friend that no matter how long its been since we have talked we can hook up in person or on the phone and its like we haven't spent one minute apart. Jami's gentle spirit is a wonderful balance to my wild one. Mark was Jeff's roommate in Alaska (at the sport fishing camp where we all worked) in the summer of '96. Jami and I weren't up there that summer, we didn't go until '97. AND, the summer of '97 is from here on out known as the Summer of Looooove! In '97 Mark and Jami were newlyweds which left me with a lot of time to myself on a remote island. Jeff befriended me and the rest is Summer of Looooove history.
I'll leave you with this little gem from my verbally advanced 3 year old. As we woke his sweet, sleeping body and put him in the carseat he stuck a thumb in his mouth with one hand and waved and blew kisses to Nana with the other. He tilted his head to lean on the seat and closed his eyes as we drove out of the sleeping town of Park City. About 4 minutes onto I-90 as our car began to climb the big hill that would take us west to Columbus his little voice said from the back, "Mama, remember last time we went to Nana's house and we went to the airport"? I told him I did remember that and he replied, "Yeah, me too. We should do that again; its faster".
2 comments:
Seriously? No butter or salt? I'm almost too shocked to go on.
And I've forgotten all of my mental notes about what I was going to say in my comments.
Because it should be illegal to eat corn without lard.
Things I love about this blog entry: 1) Tribute to me.
2) The homage to Park City sweet corn is quite touching (though your husband is a freak).
3) Analysis of Park City Daze shows great insight.
4) Tribute to me and photo by FFA sign.
5) Jeff is shirtless in one photo.
6) Samuel is hysterical.
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