Happy Birthday!

Yesterday was T's 6th Birthday Party. It was a super time, aided particularly by the weather, meaning most of it could be spent outside.

I had originally said only 10 girls could come, then it turned out that there was only 12 girls in the class, so I caved. Then realised that some of these had siblings. In the end we managed to distribute about 14 party buckets, although it seemed much more.

We started at 2pm, and the mums (unusually for this part of America, at least), dutifully dropped the kids in our care, then went and hid in the family-room with several bottles of wine. It was nice that I actually managed to persuade almost all of the parents to stay as usually there is the tendency for them to disappear (after jettisoning most of their off-spring). Bridgjo managed to rustle up an excellent obstacle course, with a packing-case tunnel, several bridges (one of which was over a paddling-pool full of piranha (or rubber ducks)), cones, jumps etc. At the end was some serious balloon-popping, which went down very well.

After that I took them inside for the first Pass-The-Parcel. I slung the parcel in the middle of this circle of girls half-expecting them to react like English kids (ie manic ripping of wrapping, over within about 15 seconds). Noooo, first of all, it had to be explained, that they can only unwrap one-layer when the music stops ("but what's a layer?"), with there a prize in the middle ("but who gets it?"). Luckily, I had factored in two of these, as it was the first time any of them had played it. By the time the second one came round at the end of the day, they were practically English). We then went outside and had some good-old Brownie-style running around games, like What Time is it, Mr Wolf? (Quelle heure est-il, M. le Loup, for the French girls), Mother, May I? (which they were all rubbish at), and The Captain is Coming!

Getting slightly hoarse by then, we entered the bear-pit which was the Party Room. I had managed (at quite short notice) to get two tables and 12 chairs from the local party shop. We ate that perennial birthday favourite (in my house) - mice sitting on a field of green jelly, pizza dough snakes, fruit salad (which some of them regarded with distrust), and a rather brilliant birthday cake from Lunds and Byerleys, figuring out that by the time I had bought all the cake tins I needed, I may as well buy the thing.

After that (this was all carefully orchestrated, you understand), we had Pin the Tail on The Dragon (which involved some serious cheating), a reprise of the Pass-The-Parcel, and (at the prompting of one of the guests - which was lucky as we'd forgotten), the Pinata. The Pinata was a girl version, where you didn't have to hit it madly with a large baseball bat, but each pulled a pink string instead. Didn't stop them belting each other in the queue for it, mind.

All that remained after this was the dispersal of the party buckets, indicating that I wanted everyone to go home. Actually I have no idea if all the parents turned up and took home the correct kids, but I assume so.

Only the French people remained, as it turned out to be such a nice afternoon. They went off and did some shopping, and we had a rather good impromptu barbecue going on until quite late.

And T's favourite part? Making a fort out of card-board boxes late in the evening.

All worth-while then.

Juut a bit off the Top

Two months have passed since my last trip to the salon (Juut). My time here is measured in hair-cuts - and time is especially whooshy at the moment. Summer went by (oh look, there it goes), without a By-Your-Leave it seemed. One minute I'm considering Mandarin Chinese as a perfectly acceptable summer past-time, and the next I'm off looking for suitable blue shorts. (As a By The Way, I am currently In Dispute with Target which appears to refuse to stock blue stockings for 6 year-olds, yet has padded bras for 7 year-olds).

So they (at Juut) were particularly enthusiastic when I rocked up last week, the hostess even bending at the waist to place her hands between her knees, looking at me with a fixed smile on her face and gushing "Oh, we are sooooo happy to have you with us again". As I am English, my response is generally "Umm...". This manic enthusiasm stems from their policy of attempting To Make Your Day, and each employee there is given the title of "Day-Maker". I think this means that they each have to compliment you on at least one thing. Seeing their collective stunned mullet faces last time I was there, I felt I was providing them with a challenge.

I had a facial this time - I am sooooo over exfoliation. Hurrah for long trousers and knitted bathing-costumes! I love facials as they always make me feel slightly stoned in a nice, legal sort of way. This one howerver seemed to involve her tapping a small gong every ten minutes (to make sure I was paying attention?), at which I began to snigger slightly more pig-like each time. By the time she starting massaging my nose, I almost felt that I should call someone up and explain why I was laughing so hard.

Next time I am thinking of going red. I am giving this some serious thought as I love the colour, but there is the risk that on a Thin Day I could look like a Swan Vesta, and on a Fat Day, a Cherry Bakewell.

At the weeke-end I went to a book-club girl's baby-shower. She is expecting twin boys, and one of her favourite gifts (not from me - I bought 100 nappies; "about 3 days' worth") was a packet of "Pee-pee Tee-Pees" - a small absorbent, towelling wigwam, to be draped over that part which shocks new mothers of baby boys at 3am in the morning.

Long Live the King!

It's Labor day weekend (must remember to put those white heels away), and the weather is an excellent 83 degrees. We went to one of our favourite parks, Richardson Nature Center, which we last saw sometime pre-April for the ice-carving when it was the coldest we ever experienced and bridgjo ran back to the car holding T, yelling "We have to go back to Whitby to warm up!" (though I might have imagined the last bit).

Today was the tagging of the Monarch butterfly. This involves hordes of pre-schoolers running around the prairie (no little house to be seen) with enormous nets terrifying the wild-life. The idea being that we caught one and took it back to be tagged. This seemed to involve sticking a post-it on its wings ("which in no way would effect its ability to fly"). They had obviously got wind of this, as there was not a single butterfly to be seen, regal or common.

Their flight-path takes them down to the hills of Mexico, where local street urchins are urged to seek them out, getting paid $5 for each butterfly recovered.

We went to Yum! on the way home. Excellent tuna-burger, but a rather shabby espresso - I think they used old coffee-grounds, but didn't have it in me to complain.

T goes to school on Tuesday. It was Open Day on Friday. It's the same teacher, and the same class-room, but this year (for First Grade) the story mat has been removed and the group tables have been replaced with desks in rows. She now has a pencil-case (I am still a kid - frisson of excitement went through me when I saw all the kit) and a HOMEWORK DIARY! This scares me obviously more than it does T. That she (1) has homework and (2) needs a diary to remind her.

It's quite big, isn't it?

[This is the last post regarding our hols - again there are more pics on FB]

After spending a night in Las Vegas, we hired a car and drove to the Ranch for the Cowboy part of our stay at Ranch 10 the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. This area has a couple of advantages over the South, namely that it is far less touristy, and also about ten degrees cooler.

We drove through three states - Nevada, Utah and Arizona to get to our destination.

It was quite a trip - as suggested by the GPS when it said "Continue for 119 miles to your destination". First we stopped off in St George, which had the benefit of an extremely good cup-cake shop, and the local paper which exhorted us to go to the local body-shop which offered "a free gun with every paint job!!!". From then on it was dirt-track all the way - 70 miles of dust and pot-holes (which eventually gave us two flat tyres).

The Ranch was great. We slept in Cowboy Wagons (the sleeping arrangements were youth-hostelly - so there were dorms, wagons, or sleeping under the stars). For the most part it caters for the white-water-rafting tourists - helicoptering them out of the canyon and up there to have their first shower of the week. We just hung out, with ATV tours, walks, twice-a-day horse-back riding and even a helicopter ride down to the bottom of the Canyon itself.

There was loads of wild-life, as you would expect in a place so remote form anywhere; road-runners (meep-meep), a snake under the wagon, a scorpion in the pitch black of night in the toilets. One evening I went for a run and I think it was the first time I have ever experienced complete silence - no cars, planes. No background noise of what we have become accustomed to of every day activity. I was bombarded by bats though. JB on the other-hand swears he almost stepped on two rattle-snakes, hearing a couple of portentous rattling sounds as he jogged (and then, supposedly, ran) along.

We lay on the deck looking at the Milky-Way, drinking beers (smuggled in, it was a bit "dry") and watching the shooting-stars. Each night the generator went off at 10pm - which was great in that the other guests weren't encouraged to stay up late and chat. T had no trouble in staying awake until that time, even though we were getting up at about 6am.

It was all rather idyllic, and I recommend it to all my readers.