Taking Flight

And on our last day in Atlanta...

There was scootering!

At noon, I checked the app and saw that there was an available scooter a few blocks away. "I'm going to get it!" I announced. "I might be back!" Then I paused, reconsidering my words. "Well, okay, I'll definitely be back, but I might have a scooter." And off I went.

The first scooter was nowhere to be found, and so I pressed on. As I neared the location of the next closest ride, I kid you not, a white BMW pulled up and a young woman hopped out, phone in hand. Her driver shrugged and smiled at me. Unfortunately for both of us, though, there was no scooter at that location. But there was an icon down the road and around the corner on the map, and so I power walked that way, making sure to enjoy the pleasant breeze and the lovely shaded southern sidewalks along the way.

Turning the final corner, I knew that today? Three's the charm. I stepped up to the scooter, and unlocked it with my phone, scanned my driver's license, and at last! I was off.

I scootered up the sidewalk and into the shady street. Zig-zagging here and there, and marveling that such a device might be so easy to ride and so fun. It was on the last three blocks, straight up hill, to my sister's house that I really appreciated my convenient little ride, and I rolled triumphantly up the driveway.

Not long after that, Courtney, Annabelle, Heidi, and I were all at the park with my trusty scooter, AKA, BY17. Everyone gave it a roll, but no one quite loved the ride as much as I did. That is until Annabelle and I bent the rules and rode double down the path. And that was how we spent the next hour-- sun on our shoulders, wind in our hair, nodding to the many, many other scooters, rolling through the park.

Props to Josh for being exactly right-- it was more fun than I thought it would be, and you all know how much fun I thought it would be!

I can't wait to ride again!

Strike Zone

We called this morning to reserve a lane at the local bowling alley. "Uh," said the attendant, "we don't do that on weekends, but at 1:30? I don't think you'll have any problem."

When we were younger, my dad used to take us bowling. It was a fun hour or so where we all could haplessly throw heavy balls at pins, he could drink a pitcher of beer, and we could enjoy a basket of popcorn and a soda. I can still picture my dad's right foot, clad in olive and burgundy rental shoe, gracefully kicking back and to the left as he spun his bowling ball right into the 1-3 pocket for a strike.

Later on in college I took bowling as one of my PE requirements, and I have to say that I spent many cold snowy upstate NY afternoons in the toasty little 8-lane bowling alley tucked away behind the field house on campus. Back then, I always chose a yellow eleven pound ball, I would rotate my wrist from 2 o'clock to 10 on the last of my three steps to the line, and my best score was a 230. So, a hot summer day in Atlanta seemed like a perfect opportunity to take Richard and Annabelle on what is practically a traditional recreational experience in our family.

"What's your bumper policy?" I asked the attendant as we traded one of our shoes for two of theirs.

"Really little kids, only," she told me, and off we went intrepidly to test our skill against Lane 28. The guy on the phone had been correct: it was not very crowded, and we had no trouble gathering a rainbow collection of balls ranging from 8 to 12 pounds.

"I'm glad I'm not first," Richard remarked when he looked at the video screen that would be our scribe and mentor for the next 90 minutes, but he needn't have worried. We all weathered the bumps and blemishes in our skills to bowl two complete games, as well as enjoy hot dogs, chicken tenders, fried green tomatoes, nachos, and a couple of blue raspberry icees. And in the end? It turned out pretty even, and although 230 was never within range, we had a pretty good time.

Early Risers

We had plans with cousin Elaine for lunch, and so I quietly shook Annabelle awake at 8:19 this morning. "Want to make cinnamon rolls and pizza dough?" I whispered, and she was up like a spring and filling the kitchen with happy chatter as we we measured, stirred, and kneaded. Then we turned our handiwork into a couple of bowls, covered them with tea towels, and placed them on the back of the stove to rise, while we went to get dressed for the day.

An hour later we punched the airy pillows down, wrapped the pizza dough for later, rolled the buns, and set them back to rise again, before popping them into the oven. And not long after that, we packed up some warm sticky buns and peaches, loaded Lucy in the car and headed over to check out Elaine's new digs.

(Annabelle’s post for today is here.)

The Age of Aquarium

Even though we all agreed in advance that the aquarium would be a fun activity for the group, Richard was having second thoughts this morning. At 12, family fun just doesn't seem that fun to him. Even so, he is a man of his word, and so he was ready to go at the designated time.

When Richard was a little guy, the aquarium was one of his favorite places; his parents even had an annual pass, and I do think I detected a little spring in his step as we exited the parking garage and headed toward the entrance. That goofy smile on his face in the picture booth was genuine as well, and he knew just where he wanted to start our afternoon: we went straight to the Cold Water Quest exhibit with the Belugas, penguins, puffins, and sea otters. Next it was on to and under the amazing 6.3 million gallons of seawater in the Ocean Voyager galleries.

There, both Richard and Annabelle climbed into the giant porthole window, and found a seat on the floor in front of the huge viewing window, and for a moment, the little guy was back.

(For Annabelle's Aquarium Adventure click here.)

Cinna-bueno!

Annabelle was skeptical.

She wanted to make frosted cinnamon buns a la Tasty and was very interested when I told her that I had a fantastic recipe.

But...
the pumpkin?
the dates?

It just didn't sound delicious.

"We can make both recipes," I promised, "and do a taste test."

But this morning, we only had the ingredients for mine. "We can go to the store and make both later," I suggested.

"Let's just make yours," she said, which was fine with me, because as I said, I love my easy vegan recipe.

And so we did. The dough came together beautifully, rose quickly, and rolled perfectly, and the pureed dates with cinnamon were the very picture of gooey filling. A little chai glaze and vanilla frosting, and the smell alone had everyone in the house hanging around the oven.

To her credit, Annabelle admitted that they were delicious, and since they are almost gone? Our plan is to make another batch on Friday.

(Here's what A-belle has to say about the C-buns.)

Can't Buy Me Fun

Another day, another scooter I didn't ride.

The stars seemed aligned for me, too. A guy was dropping fully charged scooters off right outside the place Annabelle and I went to buy our lottery tickets. "I got you!"he said and made sure everything was in working order. I opened the app, snapped the QAR code and prepared to have more fun than I even thought I would, when a new window appeared on my phone. Scan drivers license it prompted. I was on foot with cash and my phone, but no wallet. Alas, no scooter ride either.

Hopefully those mega million numbers will be luckier than that!

The day was very full without scooting, though. Heidi, Annabelle, and I found a fun indoor mini-golf place, complete with black lights, lasers, monsters, and an arcade. It was a little hard getting into the groove with neon lights flashing across the green as you putted, but we had a good time. When Annabelle turned our score card in, though, the attendant took one look at it and asked, "Who's H?"

"Aunt Heidi," Annabelle answered.

"Well give her this," the girl handed her a pass for a free round, "because she needs the practice!"

Maybe so, but we had better luck in the arcade. For the first time in my life, I even put the high score on a game. It was the basketball hoop, and I drained 25 in 2 minutes. After Annabelle spent our 31 tickets, we grabbed lunch and headed home, where even more adventures awaited, including brownie pops, a farmers market, shrimp and grits, and even porch time.

Maybe I'll get that scooter tomorrow, when I'm a millionaire.

(But don't just take my word for it-- Annabelle wrote about it here.)

Dream House

We were doing some back-to-school- shopping for Annabelle at the mall today when we stopped into the Apple store. A rising 5th grader who isn't scheduled to get her first phone until middle school, Annabelle headed straight for the iPhone X display. Even though they have been out for months, I haven't seen the latest from Apple in person, and so I was curious myself. We stood side by side playing with the apps and camera and figuring out how to navigate with no home button.

"This is a pretty nice phone," I admitted.

"They're a thousand dollars!" Annabelle cried. "iPhone X for X-spensive!" she finished.

"Yeah," I said, "but don't you want one?"

She shrugged. "Of course!"

"I'll buy you one when we win the lottery," I promised her. "We can all have one!"

"And a car?" she asked.

"I guess it depends on how much we win," I answered. "If we have enough, sure. What else would you want?"

She paused. We are both very privileged to have pretty much all we need and most of what we want, iPhone X X-cepted.

"How about a big beach house right on the ocean that has enough room for the whole family?" I suggested.

Her whole face lit up. "Yes!"

We spent the next 15 minutes planning out the whole place-- 10 bedrooms, all with their own baths and TVs, a deck, a screen porch, a pool, a game room with a big screen, and the best kitchen ever.

Oh, and an investment account to pay insurance and upkeep on the place. (That was my sister's idea.)

Now we just need to get that winning ticket.

(For Annabelle’s version of the day, click here.)