Where in the World is padaron?

We packed up the entire brood this Saturday and took them to Camp Bandina, where our old church holds Camp Imani every year for Elementary age kids.  This will be Keely's second year as a Junior Counselor, which is weird for Amy and I because we used to be the Junior Counselor Counselors!

I never went to church camp (or any kind of camp for that matter) growing up as a kid, so I have some very fond memories of Camp Imani.  So both Amy and I hopped at the idea to bring the kids up on Saturday and stay the night to hang out with some old friends and enjoy the camp at least for one night.

Camp Bandina is situated at the top of a hill right off of Hwy 16, halfway between Bandera and Medina.  Between the camp and the hwy runs a river.  It turns out that they needed to release the flood gates upstream Saturday night and as a result, the river was OVER the bridge on Sunday morning, preventing Amy and I from leaving.  Considering I had a flight to catch at 6:00 AM on Monday morning, I was a little bit worried.  However, by 3:00 PM the water was low enough that we could dash across the bridge and head home.



Several deer were grazing in the fields when I took this picture. Camp Bandina has literally hundreds of deer that roam the area and the kids always get a kick out of being so close to them.

Where in the World is padaron?

Gavin Mows the Lawn

In the Summer of 1980, 27 years ago, I was eight years old, about to go into third grade, and lived in Round Rock, Texas. This year, Gavin is eight years old, going into third grade, and we live in Pflugerville, Texas which is one suburb over from Round Rock, aka "Between a Rock and a Weird Place."

It was that summer that I begged and begged to mow the yard for the first time. For the past year, Gavin has also been begging me to mow the yard. Well, finally, the similarities were too much for me to ignore and I gave him his shot.



He did an awesome job for his first time. Mowing bermuda grass isn't as easy as it seems as it's hard to tell where you're going and where you've been.



Can't you just feel the wisdom oozing out of my pores as I attempt to educate and motivate my son? This picture has got to be worth some sort of Nobel parenting prize or something.

Of course, Gavin doesn't beg to mow the lawn anymore. In face, he responds to my weekly calls of "it's time to mow the lawn" much like I did after my own first time... with an "awww, man" and a lot of feet shuffling, followed by a heaping dose of self-pity.

Now that he's got a few sessions under his belt, he's a regular artiste with the mower. He still doesn't volunteer to do it, but he does a great job. That's awesome because it's one less thing for me to do around the house.

Now who's going to go get my beer?

Things I Saw

When you spend about 10 hours in an airport terminal, your mind starts to wander and focus on aspects of life within the terminal that normally you wouldn't even notice. During my tour of duty at Chicago O'Hare during a Forrest Gump "sideways" thunderstorm, I saw something.

When I first sat down at the nice food court in O'Hare, I noticed there was a team of Johnny on the Spot cleaning folks who would clean off a table as soon as a weary traveller left to make room for a new weary traveller. What a service!

At some point during my second meal (I was there for 10 hours, sue me!), I noticed one particular lady cleaning tables vigorously. I remember thinking, what a hard worker she is. She eventually moved onto cleaning a trash can, with the same rag she was using to wipe tables I might add.

This struck an alarmist chord in me. Surely, she'll switch out the rag before she moves back to tables.

Scrub. Please switch out, please switch out! Scrub. Please switch out, please switch out! Moving to tables again. Please switch out, please switch out! Scrub. Appetite: lost.

Where in the World is padaron?

I headed to Toronto this week for a few days. It was my last trip for my current company, MessageOne, so it was definitely a bittersweet effort. First trip to Canada (shocking, I know) and last trip for MessageOne.

Here's my take on Canada, after only one trip and some might even argue that Toronto is not even Canada but rather upstate New York with lots of maple leaves. If the United States is 12 noon, then Canada is 12:05. If the US has 52 cards in a deck, then Canada has 51. In other words, everything is very similar, but slightly different.

I'm sure I need to visit some other spots in Canada to get a good feel for the nationalism and magesty of that country but for now I'm not sure I was even in another country, 'cept for the liters, kilometers, and celsiuses (I think I just made up a word).

Where in the World is padaron?

Amy's Ice Creams

No, not that Amy! After our trip to the Hula Hut for Keely's birthday dinner, we headed over to Amy's Ice Creams. After a Tubular Taco and chips and queso, there wasn't much room for ice cream, but that's where we separate the boys from the girls, the wheat from the chaff, the strong from the weak...



I wasn't aware of this, but Amy informed me that all Amys were allowed to take the "Secret Entrance". Marcelo and Nicole had to take the front door, which stinks, but after all it's called Amy's, not Nicole's.



Evidently you get dessert AND a show. That thing that looks like a flying turd is actually a scoop of Darth Chocolate with gummi bears flying through the air.



All the kiddoes enjoying their creations on the fuego table.



Gavin was sitting there, minding his own business, when suddenly this little girl started to sneak up from out of nowhere. I've always said that Gavin's hair is a chick magnet, but this is starting to get ridicurous. ("Did you just say, 'ridicurous'?")



Once she saw the camera, it was on! It was Mel Gibson vs. the paprazzi all over again! Luckily I was able to wrest my camera from her prying hands at the last minute to snap a few more shots.



We got to use the secret entrance, but evidently that's where the benefits stop. Amy's ice cream (not to be confused with Amy's Ice Creams) cost the full price. Celebu-fame is so fleeting.



Chocolate lip liner and hair gel dreams. Time for a nap.

Baseball, 231 Years, and the American Flag