My lovely M-I-L asked me for more pictures of her longest-haired-grandson*'s trip. Well, she asked for it. There will be several days of travelogue here.
*Cousin Josh can dispute this statement if he wishes to stretch out the curl in his ponytail and measure it.
If you saw that gorgeous floral post on Google Reader and can't find it here, don't worry! It will show up here in a few days...I hit the wrong key and published it for all of 5 seconds, but it showed up on the reader anyway. I am trying to put Ernest's photos in somewhat chronological order. And here it begins...
Ernest on the actual Equator.
Yes, he performed the flushing-water-flow experiments. He says: Right on the Equator, it goes straight down. And there is a difference to the north or south.
There is a large monument, built by the French in the 1700s, which is about 300 feet off of the actual Equator. But I think that's pretty darn close, considering they didn't have GPS. I guess they didn't know the flushing trick. (But they've since wised up to that Google trick.)
After the previous year's debacle, we finally got to see Aerosmith last night. Believe me, we were plenty worried to hear about Joe Perry's motorcycle accident last week.
A whole bunch of my friends took their daughters to Justin Bieber a few days ago, and I was glad I had sons so we could see the anti-Bieber. And they were Cocked, Locked, and Ready to Rock, as their tour slogan goes. Steven looked great in his skin tight yellow spandex pants, which were tight enough to tell that not only was he cocked and locked, he was also sporting the male equivalent of camel toe, moose knuckles.
Since the venue was at a county fair, pungent aromas wafted through the air. What, you thought I meant the herb? No, I meant MANURE. Whoo-eee, what a strong aroma.
I think Sammy Hagar's been opening for them on the tour, but he got his own night at the fair (I wish I'd gone...). The opening act was a local group who'd won a radio station contest. I thought they sounded good, but my musician children said they were boring: "They always played in the same key and time and only used 8th notes."
Fortunately, they liked Aerosmith better. The music was great, of course. Here's the setlist, if you're into that. For all the animosity that was going on in the band last year, they seemed pretty friendly, with Tyler hanging all over Perry. It was fun when Perry duelled his Guitar Hero avatar and won.
(Bad pictures, I know. We REALLY need to replace our obsolete cell phones.)
So Ernest has FINALLY gotten to see Aerosmith--cross that off the kid's bucket list.
What concert's up next? I think it's Rush again in August, plus I am dragging the handy husband to the Americal Idols tour so I can see Crystal Bowersox. We saw Peter Frampton and Yes a few weeks ago, but I haven't written anything about that yet.
Yes, I've been "out to lunch" around here for a while. So many random thoughts fluttering around in my brain, but nothing's gelled yet. And since Ernest is back, my time is not my own. "Driving Mr. Ernest" is what I do. Although he is very appreciative. And I get a lot of In n Out Burgers out of the deal.
Honestly, I don't indulge in the burger every day. Yesterday was a chicken ciabatta sandwich, today a gyro plate, and tomorrow, I think crepes are in order. It's my little treat for sitting around waiting so patiently. And going out to lunch does help to pass the time.
Frank had some crust leftover from the last pie, so he decided on Chocolate Mousse Pie next. OK, neither one of us has ever made chocolate mousse from scratch, so out came the good old Joy of Cooking (1970s version -- I'm old school here).
We followed the mousse recipe exactly, but it stayed a runny mess. Frank toyed with the idea of calling it Chocolate Soup, but eventually he poured it in the pre-baked crust and put it in the freezer. Voila, Frozen Chocolate Mousse Pie.
It tasted pretty good.
Here's to a great recovery from a culinary disaster -- that's what cooking is all about!
Aunt Snow has shown the June Gloom in the southern coastal region of our state.
It continues through most of the summer, although the July and August Gloom just don't rhyme as well.
I lived a block from the beach for most of my college years and never saw the sun, unless I went inland a block or two... I wasted was good those years...just a block from the street from where people fall off the balconies Del Playa and I never partied there...those were the years of amazing apathy, between the burning of the bank and the Halloween riots, but I digress..
Lately the gloom has been incredibly thick, and has threatened to spill over the coastal mountain range into my sunny valley.
Day 12, they were supposed to visit the Tunguhuara Volcano, but I guess it's been especially active so they have been rerouted...back to the spa for lunch (Quel disappointment. --Kidding!), returning to Quito in the evening.
Day 14, Travel Day (This is the only day I plan to stress out, what with the unaccompanied minor on Delta issue.)
This is the 5th year I have had one (occasionally both) of my children traveling with this group. If your child has the chance to travel with them, I say grab it! These are once-in-a-lifetime experiences.
Children waiting patiently for the parade to start...I imagine their thoughts, from left to right... NOTHING COMING FROM THIS DIRECTION. WHERE'S THE FREAKING CANDY? I AM SO BORED AND IT HASN'T EVEN STARTED YET. I THINK I'LL CRY. I THINK I HAVE TO POO. HELLO, BAG, ARE YOU MY FRIEND???
This poor little street car has been in more parades than we can count.
Here it is in 1970. It had a motor back then. And less advertisements.
Love the emo bangs on these horses!
There were two horse/mariachi groups at the end...the cool emo horses shown above were in the first one, but the second group had the world's greatest sousaphone player. His instrument was old and dented, but he played the hell out of it. He rocked, or polkad, or mariachied, or whatever.
Traffic jam near our house....this is usually a completely empty street.
And at the fireworks, there was the guy behind us who was telling all his friends to shut up and be quiet, only he kept on talking. About everything random under the sun moon, including the smell of his 8 year old daughter's farts.
And he announced what they smelled like.
Which was probably what he had been drinking. (If not something stronger!)