Birthdays and family celebrations--nothing better

Sawyer's older cousin Maddie helps him decorate his birthday cake.

She explained she'd done that in life skills, which she said is

just home ec renamed.

 

Priceless!

He liked the Rick Riordan books I gave him.

 

This weekend the Alters all gathered at Megan and Brandon's home in Austin to celebrate Sawyer's ninth birthday and a bit belatedly, Jacob's seventh and Melanie's (I'm not saying!). The pictures above are self-explanatory. Sawyer drew his birthday out into a three-day affair and loved every minute of it.

From the moment we arrived about lunchtime Saturday, it was chaos, pandemonium, and exuberant fun. Everyone swam and bounced in the bounce house and played X-Box--except it was in the room where I slept and I shooed them out for a nap. Then the boys' uncle, aunt, and two-year-old cousin arrived and it was back in the pool; then the Hudgeons grandparents arrived. Megan had planned one of her usual feasts--hummus, guac and salsa before dinner; sliders with all the trimmings, corn on the cob, and a huge salad of marinated vegetables; Penny Hudgeons brought marvelous horseradish pickles from Central Market. Everybody ate too much and waited until almost ten for cake--with of course a swim in between.

Much as I love my family, I admit the noise and confusion wears me out. And I take my hearing aids in and out--one minute it's too noisy (often loud music) and the next I can't hear what anyone says. I was exhausted Saturday night and slept soundly--having evicted the X-Box players from my room.

Today we "hung out." Jamie came out to run about nine, and one by one kids began to clamor to ride or run with him and then adults joined in until he had a whole pack--but on Jamie Alter time, they didn't leave until after eleven, when it was getting hot. Melanie, seven-year-old Morgan, and I went to a terrific plant store--the faery gardens caught our eye, and I bought a small one for Elizabeth who was watching Sophie, plus two succulents for my cactus garden in a container on the front porch. It was a funky place with wonderful plants and pots, all reasonably priced, Koi carp in a pool, parrots in a cage in the gift shop, and a great-looking café up a level overlooking the nursery. Morgan had a wonderful time, and we all want to go back.

We didn't expect all of the runners/bikers to be back but they were, so we ate leftovers for lunch and it was back in the pool.

Jordan, Jacob and I came home the back way--183 to 281, then at Hico cut over to Glen Rose, up to Granbury, and home on 377, with a devious route once we hit Benbrook. Three-and-a-half hours, half an hour longer than our trip down on I-35 but we were afraid of Sunday night traffic jams and enjoyed the scenery--though we got silly by the time we got near Fort Worth. One of Jacob's memories will be those two crazy ladies, his mom and grandmom, taking him on trips.

I'm home again, and as always glad to be here, but I did so enjoy the weekend. As we were saying goodbye, I hugged Jamie and said "You have a wonderful family," and he replied, "So do you." So true. I am rally blessed.

Golf, closed roads, and traffic

I'm a back roads person. If there are side streets, park roads, whatever that will get me where I'm going, that's my route. I remember years ago an older friend said to me, rather primly, that she always believed a straight line was the shortest distance between two points. Not me. I'll ramble, curve, backtrack, anything to avoid main thoroughfares with lots of traffic and stoplights and angry drivers.
But this time of year, one of my favorite scenic paths through park, along a golf course, and through a lovely residential district gets messed up. I saw it happen today. Cars parked on the front lawns of expensive homes; foot lanes marked with cones on the side of the road. Some roads blocked--no matter, I can go another way, at least for the time being. But soon roads will be blocked, and I'll have to go another way.What's the sense of having a convertible on a gorgeous day if you can't drive under trees? Who wants to drive through a business district?
It's time for the Crowne Plaza International Colonial Golf Tournament--in the day it was the Colonial N.I.T. and I've never gotten over calling it that. Whereas my Fort Worth kids eagerly anticipate it every year, I dread it. They like the partying, the people watching; I hate the traffic.
When the children were little, I used to drive by the tournament, saying to them, "Look at the silly people following the little white ball." Once their father and I took them to the tournament--disaster. We were  neither one smart enough about golf to tell them to be quiet, and we got dirty looks.
Would you believe my oldest son is now the accountant for a series of golf clubs and one of the highlights of his year is the Shell Tournament in Houston. Traitor. I wonder if the people in that neighborhood feel as I do?
I realize that in Fort Worth the Colonial has a big place in our civic history. Novels have been set there, and Priscilla and Cullen Davis cemented the tournament's significance as a people-watching place. Our golf tournament has, I suppose, helped create famous sports writers like Dan Jenkins. I like Dan but remain unimpressed, with a secret wish that some year they'd just cancel it.
I sound like a curmudgeon, don't I? Maybe I am. At least about golf. I've never undertood why people are so fanatical about it.