Dance Party

Our dance parties are turning into all-out rock fests. Dad and I stop dancing and just pump our arms. Especially when the music rocks so much- like here, listening to Badfinger's "Baby Blue".

Duncan Donuts

We went apple picking with Duncan, Angus, and Nina today. Duncan threw out his back the other day and was hobbling around with crutches all afternoon. I felt bad for him.

Duncan makes Mum and Dad laugh like really hard. He asked me today if I had ever done the "Green Apple Two-Step". I think that means when you get the trots from eating too many. We drove the Oads around the orchard and Duncan told Dad that he loved the "455 Air-Conditioning" (four windows open when you're going 55 miles per hour). At the end of the day we all got donuts from the shop and when we got outside Angus was unhappy with his flavor so Duncan told him to run back in, tell them he was a Cub Scout, and exchange it.

I had a bit of the "Green Apple Two-Step" when we got home.

Rosemary

Dad dried rosemary in the attic, and then we took it off the stems, crushed it, and put it in jars. He said we're going to make some awesome dry rubs. (I was like, what are you talking about?)

Dad said that the Oregon rosemary that Hazel sent (thanks Gigi!) dried better. He said his got sort of gray and shrivelled. After about ten minutes of work the rosemary started to stick to my fingers. I got bored and started to sit in it and Dad told me to go eat a tomato.

Bertman's with a Usinger

Usually I only put ketchup on my hot dog and have to endure Dad's Dirty Harry impression: "Nobody, I mean nobody, puts ketchup on a hotdog!" But yesterday we received some mustard IN THE MAIL, from Bumpa and Judy. It was Bertman's ball park mustard from Cleveland and it was absolutely de-LISH! Dad got some Usinger's out of the freezer and we almost ate a whole pack, the two of us, for lunch with Bertman's slathered all over each bite.

Mum's a Good Driver

...except when she runs over my bike. It was in the garage on the right hand side and Mum ran over the wheel when she pulled in. She only did because she has to steer clear of Dad's grill brushes, bags of charcoal, wood chips, newspaper for the chimney, lighter, and all these other grill things on that side. It's not Mum's fault- Dad was the one who put my bike in front of all that stuff and blocked her way.

He got it at VOA and came home VERY proud of the fact that he spent $8. I was like, thanks a lot, jeez... but it is, or was, a sweet bike. We went to Towners to get training wheels. It took Dad about two hours to get them on right and then we only rode the bike for ten minutes because his back started to hurt.

In confidence, he told me that he would have probably run over the whole bike if he had been driving. He was serious too, he was whispering. He said he's not a "very strong" driver. And he's not, you should see some of the dents on the Oads from pulling in and out of the garage. And don't even bring up the bike-on-the-roof-rack incident.

Popsicle Party

Dad, Mike, and I have had a popsicle party everyday now for the past three days. After my nap, I look out my window and I see Mike working on his roof. Then Dad comes up and asks if I want to have a popsicle party.

Then, we (1) go downstairs, (2) I ask Mike if he wants to have a popsicle, then (3) I ask him what flavor he wants, and then (4) I tell Dad what flavor he wants and then (5) what flavor I want. Then (6) Dad gets the popsicles and (7) we sit in a circle outside and (8) read the jokes that are on the popsicle sticks.

Root beer is my favorite flavor. Dad likes orange, but I don't know about Mike. He eats a different flavor everyday.