This weekend The Husband and I joined my Mom and younger siblings for a holiday weekend in Dallas. My mom was meeting Ms. EllynAnne Geisel there and attending her book signing, so we all decided to tag-along and make a vacation of it.

So Friday morningish we set out in a two-vehicle caravan and headed west.

That evening after getting checked into the hotel (complete with a room change when ours ended up having a busted air conditioner, which even in April is doubleplusungood), it was time to head out for a bit of shopping and supper. We decided to drive to up to Frisco to check out the mall and IKEA(!). Now there are several things that contributed to how we spent the next several hours of our lives:

• Being from a relatively rural area, our grasp of the concept of traffic is pretty tentative. Traffic for us is getting stopped at a the red light. So, for those like us, a tip: trying to get out of downtown during rush hour in Dallas, Texas probably not the best idea ever.
• Never take directions for granted. Apparently to some people “will take you right to it” is synonymous with “will take you at least 10 miles out of the way, which if you weren’t paying closer attention, you wouldn’t even realize until you were in Oklahoma”. How in the name of all that is holy did people travel before GPS and cell phones?
• If you find yourself navigating busy, unfamiliar highways late in the evening, it’s probably a good idea that arrangements be made for the pilot of your vehicle to be not night blind, as proficiency in echolocation in humans is quite rare. If you are the aforementioned night blind pilot, the next morning is probably the latest one should speak up and remind the other occupants of your affliction. Someone else being inconvenienced by driving is still preferable to everyone involved dying in a fiery car crash.

All that being said, we did eventually find Frisco, some supper and IKEA. Of course, we realized after an hour in IKEA that we had only made it about a 16th of the way through.

The next day was devoted to exploring downtown. We headed down to Dealey Plaza to check out the Grassy Knoll, etc. While there, we spoke to some of the conspiracy theorist that were there hawking books, dvds and such. One of them was a man that (supposedly) was there near the Knoll that day. True or not, we had a good time. We were hoping to have time to do the book depository tour, but there just wasn’t enough time.

Next we walked down to the Dallas World Aquarium. It was crowded (why did no one tell the poor homeschoolers about aquariums on Saturday?) and warm, but it made for some great photo opportunities. By the way, I want a manatee for my birthday this year.

The next morning we packed up, checked out and headed to IKEA for final purchases before the drive home. Another tip: Always be sure to measure just how much you can fit in your vehicle before buying a metric asston of stuff at IKEA 300 miles from home (pictures of purchases coming, soon hopefully). Thankfully, it all fit, but it was touch and go there for awhile.

PS more pictures are available at my flickr photostream

So Sunday morning my Daddy and sister drive down south to pick some up and, mein Gott, were they good.

Mom’s kitty Julius wasn’t so sure about this. We thought for sure he would at least try to play with it, but one poke on the nose was enough for him to lose all interest.

One word of caution: You do not want crawfish spice in your eyes, peel with care.

Even so, it was a beautiful day, and great eating and fun was had by all.

By the way, in case you couldn’t tell, my sisters are insane.

And Happy April’s Fool Day!

My mom as been going through old family photos, scanning them and uploading them to facebook. My family has a, perhaps unusual, fondness for family photos…come to think of it, maybe just photography in general. When we all get together, about 1 out of 3 times we will end up looking at photos for at least an hour. Anyway, I thought I might share a few here.

This is my mom’s dad (my Papa) cooking at his parents’ house in Texas as a teenager. The love of food runs deep in my family. When my grandparents first got married, my Papa did almost all of the cooking. He had learned growing up on the farm and because, where they lived in Texas, home ec was required for all student, boys and girls. My grandmother (my Nonnie) knew some basics but the primary cook when she was growing up was her sister (16 years her senior), who didn’t like people in the kitchen when she was cooking. The story is that the first time Nonnie tried to fry chicken she didn’t know that you had to bread it, she just threw chicken pieces in hot grease and wondered why it wasn’t getting crusty.

That’s my great-grandmother (my Bondon) with my great-uncle David and Papa as a baby. Given Papa’s age, this was the second half of 1933. You could definitely tell that Bondon was from the Great Depression generation. Even during the mid-to-late 80s and the resurgence of consumerism, she abhorred waste of any kind. I remember her once eating mayonnaise straight out of the jar because it was about to go out of date and she didn’t want it to spoil.

This is Nonnie when she was about 14 during WWII. Isn’t she beautiful? Nonnie’s two brothers, Jack and Charlie, were both in Europe during WWII. During this time, families of killed or missing soldiers were notified by telegraph which was delivered by a bicycle messenger. As a result, every time someone would see the bicycle messenger they would all hold their breath until he passed. One day he didn’t pass. He rode up to the porch and delivered a telegraph to Nonnie’s sister’s house. Nonnie was sent to her mother’s house (she lived down the street) to get her, she ran as hard as she could and then they both ran back. Nonnie said by the time they got back, she was just about to pass out from being out of breath and nerves. So finally everyone is gathered up and they open the telegraph, without saying a word Nonnie’s sister reads it and then hands it over to her mother who then reads it and continues to stare at it. Finally everyone else about to be in hysterics, she reads it. It was from her brother Jack, he had spent (ie gambled) all his money, could they send him a few dollars. Of course, I don’t tell it as well as she did, Nonnie could spin a quite a yarn.

This is my mom and her brother. Check out that stroller. Also notice how pristine those socks and shoes are.

That’s Papa, my uncle Butch, my mom and Nonnie. Don’t they look fine? Like they are straight out of MadMen.

My uncles Scott (bottom left) and Butch. That’s a pair right there, it’s a wonder Nonnie wasn’t crazier than she was. Like the time they were out playing (around the same age they are in the picture) and Butch comes running in screaming that Scott had been run over by the neighbor and she (Nonnie) has got to come help him (!). Nonnie runs out into the street frantically looking for Scott’s little broken body, Butch the whole time scream hysterically “Help him Mama, you have to help him”. She gets into the street and doesn’t see Scott anywhere, she turns around to ask Butch where he is and sees him standing in the yard just a cackling, she also then happens to notice the garbage can shaking suspiciously. She goes over and takes the lid off the can and there is Scott trying his hardest not to laugh. Can you imagine? I would have sold them both to the circus.

Sunday we drove over to my parents’ house for supper. I am sure that if I had written this Monday I would have all kind of witty anecdotes to share but unfortunately it’s Thursday now and having been cleaning house in preparation for The Husband being on vacation next week (and therefore nothing getting accomplished probably), I am devoid of anecdote at the moment. Apparently I still retain the ability to craft one hell of a run-on sentence however. I did get some pictures to chronicle the day, so I think I will let them speak for themselves this time.