This is amazing. Now I completely understand how old ones can sit in a rocking chair all day and not get bored. Time is moving quickly. Thinking about time reminds me of Stephen Hawking’s book, A Brief History of Time I read this year—mind you I read the newly ILLUSTRATED version. I dig picture books. If you like picture books, too, check out The Arrival by Tan at the nearest library. Don’t pass up the knitting book section and all those yummy books about yarn or the Twilight series by Meyers…. “Enough of you,” you say. OK. Here is a Brief History of Smith Time:
Bob—sold the airplane kit he was building. He had completed the wings and tail. He had become a champion riveter holstered with bucking bar and everything. His tutoring responsibilities had become overwhelming in addition to his full time work as a computer engineer/manager. Ayn and Brad pay homage to Bob nightly because of his rescuing them from drowning in physic, calculus, geometry and Algebra II homework. I don’t know how a normal family can achieve respectable grades without a live-in physics/math tutor and home computer systems engineer. You don’t need to feel sorry for Bob. His dreams have come true. The cash from the airplane sale was burning a hole in his hand and he promptly purchased a bullet bike, a 500 cc Kawasaki Ninja. Bob’s Mini Cooper is still cute as a bucket of puppies. Ayn runs off with it whenever possible.
Ayn—like I said, she keeps running off with the Mini. Most of the time she is not here. She’s always doing something, something other than her family chores. She’s at violin lessons, or piano, or babysitting Jennifer (a special needs gal), or volunteering at Timp hospital in the OB area. She’s at this choir concert or that orchestra concert or visiting this friend or texting, texting, texting. She never plays with me, humph. I guess I should mention she does mountain bike with Bob and I.
Brad—is growing facial hair, just barely. Mostly sideburns, but that’s a start. And, he’s driving with ME in the passenger seat. Most jazz band mornings we’re shooting the rapids of walkers, joggers and cyclists, tenor sax bumping around in the back seat. All of this in the December dark. I’m just thankful lacrosse hasn’t started. Brad is a well-padded goalie for the PG JV LaX team. Now, to get him to do the conditioning.
Mark—‘s dreams have come true. He purchased a like-new Yamaha TTR 125 dirt bike in October. He rides every day in the “dirt hill” area up the road from us. Mind you, it’s not on forest service land. Mark doesn’t have to pay homage to Bob, nightly, like the rest because he usually doesn’t need help with his classes. Mark has been mountain biking with Bob and I.
Shannon—‘s dreams have come true, too. She got her ears pierced on her October birthday. She is in the collecting more, and more, and more earrings phase. She wants to go see the Twilight movie with me. I think we’ll go to the dollar theater eventually. She is also in the “love horses” phase, still. She’s becoming fashion minded and cares about shoes. Horse books are her thing. Don’t say anything, but I’m giving her the Unicorns of Balinor Books 1-3 for Christmas.
Whitney—‘s dreams haven’t come true, however. She doesn’t have any, she says. It’s hard finding jeans to fit this tiny-butted, long-legged girl. She didn’t inherit her body type from me. She writes magnificent love notes, hugs generously and draws beautifully. She avoids music practice at all costs both on the violin and piano. She collects, organizes and sets up.
Daniel—‘s dream would come true if he could go to Hawaii and see an erupting volcano. He is simultaneously in the volcano and dinosaur phase. He recently asked me which day we get to leave for Hawaii. Then we had a talk about $$ and $$ and $$. Daniel did love the Thanksgiving Point Dinosaur Museum. For his November 25th birthday we had a dinosaur fest.
Dolores—the cat is fine.
Major Tom—the cat is fine.
Baby, Chocolate and Tippy—the rats are fine.
Steve—the parakeet is fine.
Zena, jungle princess—the Americana hen is fine.
Hope you all are doin’ fine, too.
You made it to The End.
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