Forever Summer: Part Two

Here are those pictures I talked about yesterday, with the birds:




Today's update is going to be about the weekend when my grandpa (Adam's Dad) came to visit us. Actually, come to think of it, it was Mother's Day weekend. Funny how holidays sneak up on you like that, huh. Wow. Anyway, we did TONS of cool stuff, including going to the desert botanical gardens in Phoenix. They had this exhibit where a guy made a whole bunch of glass sculptures or something... you can read more about it on my mom's blog.

First, one of the sculptures:



Next, a couple of native plants for your enjoyment. I learned that this is a palo verde tree, kind of like the one we have in front of our house, only way bigger and in full bloom.


Here's one that you can only find in the Sonoran Desert, which in practice means only in Arizona, regardless of what you may see in the movies:

10 points to the first person from another state to tell me what this is (and I don't mean "a cactus.") These guys can live to be 300 years old. Bet you didn't know that, huh?

Just before that we had gone to one of the best sandwich places ever, Dilly's Deli in Tempe. I tried a new food completely by my own choice, and to everyone's surprise, actually liked it:

It's a pickle, which I guess some people aren't into, especially whoever came up with this shirt. Something about the look on my face reminded my dad of Popeye the sailor man. Whatever.

The "Who Pooped...?" book (yesterday's post) was in the gift shop, where I was complaining about the heat outside. Mid-complaint, my dad found the book and put it by me, and mom snapped the shutter of her camera before I could say anything. I swear, I think the purpose of parents is to embarrass their kids. You might think it's the other way around, but you would be sorely mistaken.

The next day was Mothers' Day, and we got to talk to Uncle Owen on the phone. Actually, it was just mom and dad. There was NO way I was getting up at six in the morning. It was still kind of dark out... it was like... the daytime... of the night. Here's a picture of us many moons ago, right before he left. Obviously, holding newborn babies came naturally to him, and the joy in his face is just heartwarming:

Oh well. I hear he's doing some great stuff up in the great white north, so I'll let it slide this time.

Forever Summer: Part One Of A Three-Part Series

I know I've kept everyone waiting, but I'm finally back. Since summing up seems to be in order, we're going to just hit a few major stories, in perhaps more than one entry. The first thing is that we went to California around my 9-month birthday, and I got to see a bunch of grandparents again that I'm not sure I remembered.

We went to the San Diego Wild Animal Park, which was pretty awesome. And exhausting. Even though I TOLD them, mom and dad didn't have the foresight to bring my stroller on the trip, and the one that they rented at the park was a bit... uncomfortable. As in, I cried whenever I was sitting still in it, but then I fell asleep.

But lemme tell ya, lots of cool animals. I'm pretty sure I liked those colorful birds that go completely bat-snot-crazy when you feed them. Although, they didn't like me much. I might find some pictures of it some time soon, so stay tuned.

We didn't get to stay long, but we did hit my great grandma and grandpa's house in Murietta on the way back to Arizona. Here's me in the living room, telling a funny joke, I guess:


And shuffling around on the floor:



I was also highly interested in the grandfather clock that's been there since before my dad can remember:


And a very small chair that my great-grandma got in T.J. (Tijuana, Mexico, for those of you not from a southwest border state) when she was five:

That's me inspecting a container of my favorite cereal, thinking, "Man, five years old. That's WAY old."


Now, this next part is kah-razy. My more faithful readers will recall the contest that took place a few months ago, to decide which of my close relatives resembled me the most as a baby. Initially, we thought it was my uncle Owen, who actually ended up losing the contest by virtue of being in Cana-duh. However, we may have to have a recount:


No, that's not a picture of me and some girl, that's my dad and his cousin, some time in the autumn of 1984. I know what you're thinking: he had more hair than me. This is true. The baldness shows no mercy.

They also had a very old, awesome car living at their house that would probably be a death trap on the highway, but was no less cool because of this. I'm used to something with about 14 more wheels, though:


That's all for now, but here's one teaser picture for the next entry:


The answer to the book's query? (In case you can't see it, the book is called Who Pooped In The Sonoran Desert?) It was me. Quite a number of times, if memory serves.