This is what Happily Ever After looks like...

Alternative title: Best weekend ever!

This weekend, we got to honor two of my very favorite people ever, my parents. The occasion? Their 50th wedding anniversary. The guest list? A boatload of people. (Literally!)

The party started in San Diego on Friday night. Mark and I arrived just in time to join my parents and some of their friends Diana and John from Arkansas for dinner. Diana and my mom taught at the same school, and Diana had gone to the wedding. She was a riot!

Our family friend, Torsten, and his young family also arrived that night, all the way from Germany. We sat outside, catching up, our kids sipping hot cocoa, even though it was almost 80 degrees that night.

My brother Scott and his wife Mary were also in the hotel somewhere. I didn't see them, but their children attacked us at the table. They were all staying overnight at the hotel; the girls with their Grandma from Santa Maria, and Grant with Mark and I. Both Mark and Grant sighed, "Awwwww!" when I suggested they could share a bed. Grant informed me that you could order a bed to the room. He ran off to the front desk to see how much it cost. He returned a few minutes later, and told me it was only $10. When I said we didn't really need it, he said, "But I already ordered it."

"How?" I asked. "You don't even know what room I'm in!"

"231," he answered. And sure enough, when we opened the door, there was an extra bed!

"Way to take care of it, Grant," I told him. The bed stayed, and the boys were both thrilled.

By Saturday morning, the arrivals were in full swing. My brother Tim and his family arrived, followed by my aunt, uncle and his girlfriend Denise. As we were heading out for lunch, my brother Brad and his girlfriend, Shanda, arrived. It seemed like no matter where you went in the hotel, you ran in to a relative or friend.

Tim and Kim ordered lunch by the pool. Since Mark wanted to stay with his cousins, I gave him a room key and strict orders to get some lunch. Mark really enjoyed his new freedom--throughout the day, I found him buying drinks and snacks at the gift shop, or lounging in the room watching TV. 

I returned from lunch to find empty dishes outside my door. A sheepish Mark admitted that yes, he did order himself room service, but in his defense, he also bought Grant some snacks as well. I don't know what was worse, an 8-year-old ordering beds, a 12-year-old buying...well, everything!...or the hotel letting the kids charge whatever they wanted. (I realized later, as I was ranting about all this that maybe...perhaps...ok, yes, for sure, I should have kept a little tighter control on the key cards!)

Anyway, more friends and family arrived, including our friend Brian and his VERY pregnant wife. (Colleen was actually due that day!) Since they weren't going on the boat, it was fun to see them for a while.

More family arrived, including Shanda's parents, who Tim heralded as "Mr. and Mrs. Shanda." I just love them--they are so sweet, normal, and down-to-earth. So excited the next big family party will include them as well, and cement our family connection. ;-)

At 4:45, everybody met up in the lobby, where Tim was passing out champagne, and I was furiously trying to photograph all the families.



Greg and Denise, so cute!



Me and the girls

I didn't get them all, because our chariot arrived, in the form of a giant bus. We loaded up the hotel guests--all 50 of them--and headed over to our party location--a yacht my parents had chartered for the evening.

My parents had only informed the hotel guests about the bus, so the guests waiting by the boat were getting a little anxious that no one else was there. Our friend Steve Schanes thought maybe we were arriving in a limo, when suddenly, our giant bus pulled up, and the family started pouring out. It was hilarious!

The kids all ran ahead so they could board first. I had my camera out, ready to photograph my parents boarding their anniversary cruise together.

As I snapped their photo, I turned to see this motley crew hanging out the windows, yelling out that they were enjoying their champagne very much. (It was really sparkling apple cider.) Those kids crack me up!

As soon as we were onboard, the boat took off. It was still a bit crazy--my mom was passing out name tags, friends we hadn't seen yet were greeting us, waiters were passing out champagne, and the boat staff was setting up the cake. In the midst of it all, my sis-in-law Kim ran by and yelled, "Is this the Titanic?" Mark assured me we couldn't get hypothermia in the warm California waters.

Yes, these are the grown-ups. Scary!



We cruised around San Diego bay for the next four hours. My parents seriously could not have picked a better night to celebrate--the weather was warm, and the moon was a full, harvest moon. (My mom LOOOOOOVES the full moon so much, Mark asked if she'd intentionally picked this date because it was so full. Nope, serendipity!)

 

The happiest couple in the room (beside my parents!)

 

 

That's a lotta Landas

As the sun set, and the sky turned beautiful shades of blue and purple. We sat down to dinner, and I giggled as I watched the kids (and all my brothers) completely bypass the vegetables and head straight to the meat. 

Somehow, I was wandering around downstairs and almost completely missed my parents cutting the gorgeous cake. Luckily, Mark leaped into action, and though he forgot to turn on the flash, he captured some pictures of them. 

The kids were crowded around the table, drooling. They had a long wait, as they completely ignored the first two layers (champagne and raspberry), desperately waiting for the chocolate mousse layer.

After dinner came the toasts. Although my parents think we're funny, they apparently did not like the roast we gave them at their 40th anniversary party. This year, they requested real toasts instead of a roast, and my mom threatened us if we weren't nice.

Tim was the first kid up to bat, and he started off very nicely. He talked about how when you're a kid, you think your parents are superheroes who can do no wrong. He said that changed when we became teenagers, and convinced ourselves they didn't know ANYTHING. Tim momentarily lapsed into roast mode, saying that if he really wanted to go there, they were pretty easy targets. He was cracking up the whole boat by prefacing each comment with, "I don't want to make fun of them because they're too old for technology, but let's just say that none of their kids has their email address!"

But in the end, he came around to nice again, and ended by saying, we'd come full circle, and that now, he realized once again that my parents were indeed superheroes. I thought I might burst into tears right there, it was so sweet!

Brad, aka Smed, was up next, and his toast was exactly what you'd expect--goofy, funny, rambling, and silly. He did point out what wonderful role models my parents were, and how hard he was trying to raise his son the same way. It was also very touching--Smed's in such a good, happy place in his life, and it really showed.

I was up next. I'm a nervous speaker, and I was worried I'd forget everything I wanted to say, so I wrote my toast out beforehand. As I looked into the sea of faces staring back at me, I realized that was a good idea. I cleared my throat, willed my voice to be steady and calm, and started.

"I'm a better writer than I am a speaker," I told the crowd. "So I'm just going to read my speech."

I took a deep breath and read directly from my paper...

"Hi, I'm Heather--"

And the room erupted in laughter. For a minute I was confused, because that wasn't the funny part, and I wasn't sure why they were laughing yet. Then I realized that duh, I was related to 90% of the room, and the other 10% had known me since I was born. Though it seemed casual and conversational when I wrote it, it did sound ridiculous when I read it!

But it did help calm my nerves. I instantly knew this stupid introduction would live on in Dinsdale history for the rest of my life, and I just smiled. It could be worse.

I made it through my toast, and passed the limelight over to my brother Scott. He gave an awesome speech about how marriage is not just a success for two people, but for their whole support group. He talked about how many people had supported my parents over the years, and how that's what he looks for as well. He even grinned and said ominously, "We're Dinsdales...once we're your friends, you can never get rid of us!" It was very funny, and heartfelt.

(Thank you to everyone who sat and let us ramble on about how fantastic our parents are...I know you agree, but thank for sitting through it all!)

We wrapped up all the talking, and my mom decreed it time to dance. She ordered everyone downstairs to dance.

And who doesn't do what my mom says? We filled the tiny dance floor up in no time, except for the poor Roppe's, who were too tall to fit down there! We danced ourselves silly to all my parents' favorite songs--"YMCA," "We are Family," the Chicken Dance, the Macarena, even the Electric Slide (which most of us had forgotten how to do). The kids even formed a conga line and danced off around the boat. They also stole my camera and took lots of funny candid shots!

The DJ played my favorite, "I Will Survive," and I did my infamous dance. I didn't know my niece Gabi knew every word, and she's got an attitude, so we engaged in a dance/sing off. It was AWESOME!!!

The kids and grandkids danced to every song. Suddenly, "I've Got Friends in Low Places" came on. The adults went nuts, but the kids just froze. They didn't know what to do, and literally just stood there on the dance floor.

But then Mary saved the day. She requested "What Makes You Beautiful" by Nathalie's crush, boy band One Direction. This time the opposite happened--the kids all exploded in to song, along with their parents. The rest of the adults looked confused, and I heard a couple say, "I've never heard this song before!" You could tell which people had teen or pre-teen kids. :-)

My parents got a slow song in there, and danced across the floor, like the king and queen. They were so happy, as was the whole room, which was literally surrounded in love. We just smiled, watching them, as the DJ told us, "This is the last song."

I thought he was kidding, but Monica said, "No, look, we just docked!" I couldn't believe it. The four hours just flew by!

The tired group loaded back up on the bus and returned to the hotel. The kids went to bed, and the adults went down to the pool to listen to Crosby, Stills and Nash, who were playing at the hotel next door. When they closed down, we grabbed a table, unwilling to end the amazing night.

Even my parents, who are usually in bed by 9, stayed up. We ordered drinks, drank half of them, and then finally called it a night at 12, when the next day began.

I may not have been at my parents' first wedding reception, but I was at the 50th, and it's a night I will always remember.

Hurrah for the red, white and blue

We aren't usually home for the Fourth of July. It was kind of nice to be there this year, especially considering last year's fiasco, when the neighbor kids kept tossing fireworks into our yard and trying to burn my house down.

But the real reason we stayed home was for my niece Gabi. Gabi took up fencing last year, and qualified for nationals this summer. The competition was about 20 minutes from my house, so my brother Scott, sis-in-law Mari and two of their kids came to stay with us. Mari's friend Dawn was also participating at nationals, so she traded private lessons for Gabi for a couple night's lodging. 

I love having a full house, although my nephew Grant noted one of its shortcomings. He asked me why I only have one bathroom in my house.

"We have two," he bragged. "Grandma and Grandpa even have their own bathroom!" I promised Grant I'd run over to Home Depot and buy another bathroom for his next visit.

Mark loved their visit. He got to abandon summer camp and hang with his cousins for a few days. But as Independence Day arrived, he learned that the fun was over, and it was time to fight.

Well, for Gabi, anyway. Scott, Mari and Dawn left with Gabs at daybreak, to get her registered and ready to fence. I went later on, with two sleepy boys in tow.

Gabs did her best. She got a few good hits in, and while she may not have scored as high as she'd have liked, we were enormously proud of her (and her red-and-white striped sock!). 

And after the competition, it was time to celebrate! Mark and Grant were thrilled when I stopped to buy fireworks, but crestfallen when I told the cashier I wanted some small, not-crazy things like sparklers.

"Awwwwww," they both sighed. Grant tried convincing me to buy a giant box of explosives called the Finale, but I reminded him what a hot mess I am. I'd probably just set myself on fire.

I'm a Dinsdale, which means I don't know how to put out just a little food for a party. I made five pounds of potato salad and two pounds of cucumber salad, and delegated the meat-cooking duties to my brother Scott. He grilled up hot dogs, burgers, steaks, and asked, "How many people are coming to dinner?"

I smiled and said, "Well...just us." Oh, and my brother Smed and his girlfriend, too. Hey, the best part of a big dinner is the leftovers, right?

Actually, for the kids, the fireworks turned out to be the most fun. We'd purchased 12 boxes of sparklers, and the kids were determined to burn them all up as fast as possible. 

However, we soon realized the dang things were misnamed--they should've been called smokers, because that's mostly what they did! The entire yard was full of smoke in mere minutes, but the kids didn't even notice. They were just thrilled to be playing with matches, and lighting stuff on fire.

I also experimented a bit with the sparklers. This is my idea of some real hotcakes!

The kids also got to light up the fountain fireworks we bought. I personally would not have let them (yes, I'm a paranoid mom), but Scott supervised them very closely. And they were so excited to do it.

"Look at mine!" Grant screamed, as the fireworks shot up. "I did that! I lit them! I'm a BEAST!" he shouted, pounding his little chest. Man, was he proud of himself! It was so cute...

There were a couple fireworks shows scheduled in the area. Scott and I debated which one to take the kids to. But while we were talking, the neighborhood lit up. You could see and hear fireworks erupting all over the place. It was pretty awesome--the fireworks were huge, bright, and very close.

"That one's from Disneyland, Dad!" Grant shouted. Scott answered that yes, it was, then shook his head silently when I looked at him. Another burst of colorful lights prompted Grant to yell, "The Finale! Someone's setting off the Finale!" So he got his 4th of July wish after all (and I made it through the holiday unscathed).

The neighborhood pyros showed no signs of slowing down, so finally, we just put the kids to bed. They were exhausted after the long day, and they all smelled a bit smoky, but they were happy.

And I was pretty happy, myself.

Camping, schmamping, let's go to the beach!

The day after Mark got out of school, we hit the road. Our destination: a small beach campground just north of Santa Barbara.

I'd packed the car with so much gear, there was barely room for me or Mark. Which thrilled Mark, because he got to sit in front with me, fiddling endlessly with the radio, and telling me when I made a wrong turn. (New rule: Person sitting shotgun on roadtrips must offer up more helpful comments than "You're totally lost, aren't you?")

We took the scenic route up through Malibu, along PCH. It was a gorgeous drive, albeit a bit scary at one part, when we raced a semi-truck carrying half a house on the winding two-lane road.

Our camp was halfway set up when my brother Tim and his family arrived. Their mini-van was even MORE tightly packed than our car, and Tim proudly explained, "We brought everything in our house to live outdoors."

Seeing this scene reminded me I'd forgot to pack towels.

Tim wasn't kidding, especially when he unloaded his outdoor kitchen--a barbecue, camp grill, table, tablecloth, one million utensils, and even a coffee maker.

Yeah, when's the last time YOU brought Calphalon pans to cook with??

Dude likes to travel in style! But I'll say this--we never went hungry, and all the food was top-notch. If I had a bigger car, and/or any talent for cooking, I'd purchase everything Tim has!

I could tell Hannah and Nick have grown since we saw them at Christmas. Mark and Nick are six months apart in age, and very competitive about...well, everything, including their height. They both posed for the "who's taller" picture, where Mark was dismayed to learn it wasn't him (he'd been taller at Christmas).

Our site was four spots away from the ocean, which is what we love most about it. I walked with the boys along the beach in search of caves. We found them, but even better, Nick found a shark egg on the sand.

Because I'm not much of a cook, Tim only put me in charge of one meal, and was very specific as to what I should make (burgers). But I've been camping with the Boy Scouts, and was impressed with their amazing little Dutch ovens. I realized it's just a camping Crock Pot, and hey, I rock the slow cooker! So I volunteered to bring my new Dutch oven and try out some recipes. Since I didn't want the pressure of making inedible meals, we declared everything in the Dutch oven as "bonus food." If it came out good, great! If it came out terrible--well, hey, at least we weren't counting on it as our meals.

The first dish was rocking! I made and soaked French toast overnight, then cooked it Saturday morning. It was driving Tim crazy, because he likes to cook, and by cook, I mean fiddle with the food the whole time. He kept wanting to lift the lid, or check the coals, and I finally kicked him out of our camp.

But the French toast came out DELICIOUS! At one point, Nick and Tim both yelled, "It smells soooooo good!" And I pointed out to Mark they were, indeed, talking about my cooking.

The only downside was the mild sunscreen taste. Because the French toast was so fluffy, everyone wanted to touch it. Like phones in the car, I'd recommend going hands-free next time.

After (our second) breakfast, we dragged just about everything but our tents down to the beach. We even dragged down more family members, when my parents and my two San Diego nieces arrived just before lunch.

I love watching all the kids together. They get along really well, and instantly just melt into a giant roaming band of cousins. 

 

They're all teens and pre-teens now, and not only are they physically growing, they're also comedically growing, too. Their humor has evolved into biting, sharp-witted, and terribly funny insults. Hannah hacked in to her dad's Facebook account, and used it to insult me in all my status updates. I couldn't stop laughing with them (and at them) all weekend long.

The kids and Tim boogie boarded all day, and my parents, Kim and I relaxed on the beach. It was awesome.

Tim barbecued ribs for dinner, and I made cornbread in my Dutch oven. It was from a boxed mix, so it was good, but not great. Still, I was gaining confidence in my cooking skills and my Dutch oven.

Little Diva Gabi insisted on staying with my parents in the hotel--she's no dummy! Nathalie opted to camp with us, so she and Mark set up their tent. However, I forgot to bring an air mattress for that tent, but my dad solved the problem.

"Here," he said handing us the day's newspaper. "Put that in the tent, it'll be one more layer of protection from the ground."

"The rest of us just stood there, stunned and a little confused. But hey, it was my dad, so I silently handed the paper to Mark and Nathalie, who obediently lined the tent floor with it.

(When I asked Nat the next morning if she'd slept well, she answered, "Yes, except the newspaper rattled every time I moved in the tent...so that kept me awake." My brother Tim also noted that we'd intentionally added another layer of kindling to an already flammable tent, but I just ignored that observation.)

Since we were out in the wiled and without a TV, we did our best to entertain ourselves. Tim used the flaming logs to create fiery initials for our names. However, he only had three logs, so he made everyone's initials but Mark's, which needed four logs.

On Sunday, it was Kim's turn to use the Dutch oven. She made the most amazing cobbler with fresh-picked blueberries, and we dang near licked the oven clean. Which is saying a lot, since half the group doesn't even like blueberries! We voted Kim's dish the best all around bonus food of the trip.

The cobbler turned out teeth purple!

My mom and I decided to go wine tasting, and tried to talk Kim into joining us. She balked, saying she should really spend the day with Tim, since it was Father's Day. I pointed out that Tim wasn't her father, but she wasn't swayed. I also pointed out my dad was staying at camp to relax, and that he and Tim could handle the kids, but that didn't work either. Then I stopped trying because honestly, I just wanted to drink wine, and my mom was more than willing to join me.

We drove to Los Olivos and sampled some of the local wines, then headed out to the Bridlewood winery, which makes one of my favorites viogniers. It's also a gorgeous winery, with horses, a race track, and rolling hills covered in vines. Mom and I brought a picnic lunch and really enjoyed the view (and the wine).

Mark is trying to rank up in Boy Scouts, so he was in charge of making dinner that night. He barbecued burgers, and thought he dropped mine right into the charcoal, he did a great job otherwise (luckily, I brought extra turkey burgers!).

Monday was our last chance to use the Dutch oven. I baked breakfast in it, a hash brown-bacon-egg-and-cheese casserole. 

It was awesome! ("It smells like Carl's Jr.," Nick said, dreamily. "That's a compliment," Kim clarified.) Mark even ate two huge helpings, and he hates eggs. That recipe is definitely a keeper. (Unlike the broccoli and cheddar cheese quiche I was going to make, but didn't since Hannah and Nick hate broccoli. Or rather, as Nick told me, "I LIKE broccoli, I just don't like to eat it.")

The food was so hot, it looked like they were breathing smoke out.

The San Diego crew left Monday morning, and we were sad, until the sun came out and distracted us. Most of the campground had emptied out on Sunday, so we had the beach to ourselves. It was a beautiful day, and we spent it much as we had the past few days--Kim and I lolling on the beach with our books, everyone else in the water.

So it was bittersweet when we finally had to pack up our camps later that afternoon. I was sad to leave my family, and the beach, but I was really looking forward to a soft bed and a hot shower. (Even Mark was excited to shower--he never showered once while we were there. Boys are gross.) And I'll see Tim, Kim and the kids again in a couple weeks, so I wasn't that sad.

Ahhhh...summer vacation. It's seriously the best kind of vacation ever, even if it only lasts four days.

Beware of falling apples

You know that saying about how the apple doesn't fall far from the tree? Well, it's certainly true in my family.

Once, when I was in college, my parents sent me money (OK, yes, it was more than once, but humor me). My mom told my dad to send me a check, and apparently, she also told him to include a short note. Because when I opened the envelope, the letter accompanying the check said, "Your mom told me to write something when I sent this, so here it is. Love, Dad."

A man of few words, my pops.

Today, I received a check in the mail from my big brother. Tim thinks just like my dad, but obviously does not solicit advice from his wife, because here's the letter that came with my check:

I guess that other saying is correct--like father, like son.

Turkey Day 2011

My parents have had just about enough family time, thankyouverymuch, so this year, they opted for a Hawaiian cruise over Thanksgiving with their offspring. Can't say I blame them, though, and I'm sure they are having a blast on the open seas.

But that didn't mean Thanksgiving, or even Thanksgiving in San Diego, was canceled. Mark and I headed to the family compound, where I gave thanks for having a brother who likes to cook.

When my nieces and nephew greeted us, I was shocked to see the oldest, Nathalie, was the same height as me! It's only been a month or two since I've seen her, but she sure sprouted up during that time. And boy, did she love being as tall as me. She stood next to me every chance she got, and asked me 537 times how tall I was. I kept changing it up just to confuse her.

My family likes to eat, so they don't even put up the pretense of letting me cook during the holidays. I came bearing pies instead. My brother Scott took them from me, and told us that we were having a late lunch--my sis-in-law Mary predicted it would be served some time between 2 and 6 p.m. Since even that four-hour window of time was not a guarantee, Scott encouraged us to fill up on appetizers.

I helped Mary a bit in the kitchen, until Scott came in and announced we'd start drinking at noon. I glanced at the clock; it was 12:02.

"Break out the wine!" he said, so we did.

We also busted out the appetizers. My favorite was the bacon-wrapped dates, which I encouraged Mark to try. My niece Gabi also encouraged him, but for a whole different reason.

"Yeah, have a date--it's probably the only date you'll ever have!" she cackled. I'm pretty sure Mark smacked her after that, but I was laughing too hard to reprimand him.

Scott and Mary's friends and their kids also joined us. Their Natalie was not just taller than me--she literally towered above me! And Ethan was unlucky enough to bear a passing resemblance to Mark, so every time I saw a brown-haired boy darting down the hall, I yelled out "Did you test your blood sugar?" or "Did you bolus?" Nine times out of 10, Ethan turned to look at me, confused as to why I kept verbally assaulting him. Mark, however, loved it.

Chris and Hilary also brought their dogs. Moments after they arrived, Bailey, the chocolate lab, jumped into the pool, where she spent the rest of the day. Mary raced past me, calling out, "Oh my God, don't tell your mom about this!" Mom may have been out to sea, but she was there in spirit all weekend, mostly whenever someone was about to do something stupid, and the rest of the family cried out, "Grandma will KILL you if she finds out!" We really do love my Mom, but she keeps us in line even when she's thousands of miles away.

After a brief nap (which may or may not have been wine-induced--I'll never tell), we sat down to an amazing dinner. Kudos to Scott and Mary for such a fabulous feast!

Even better than the food was the company. Our good friend Sasha was in town, and stopped by to visit. We spent the evening laughing until my face literally hurt. At one point, everyone was in the kitchen, talking loudly (yes, you, Scott!) and hurling questions toward poor Sasha, who became completely overwhelmed. I thought she might actually run away, but she's been part of the family long enough, and she overcame it.

With Thanksgiving down, we still had three more days o'fun to fill.We took the kids to Sea World. They'd already been on Tuesday, but it was a gorgeous day so we went again. We took our picture inside a giant snow globe, saw the dolphin show, and watched a real reindeer tear around his pen. We bailed when it looked like he might actually escape or harm the Sea World trainer; I'm not sure my boss would believe me if I called in sick after being mauled by a reindeer.

We joined Sasha's family that evening for Thai food. I was on turkey overload, so I ordered pad Thai.  

"What number spicy, from one to 10?" the waitress asked.

"I dunno, 5?" I answered. I figured halfway up the scale was safe.

But my friend Ann panicked. "I only get 4 1/2!" she warned, so I scaled it down to a 4. Which still burned my mouth--the family cracked up at me and my wussy taste buds, especially when Mark popped in a mouthful with no problem. (Rotten kid can eat fire and not even blink.) But even a burnt tongue was a small price to pay for dinner with some of my favorite peeps.

On Saturday, we hung out with one of my college roommates. I hadn't seen Andrea for a few years, and in that time, she got married, and we both had kids. I was excited to meet her new family, and to introduce Mark (who is not the kid in the picture! That's my nephew--Mark took the photo).

Her family was in town, and did what most San Diego visitors do--they went to Sea World (the other 50% go to the zoo; we have passes there too, so we're covered). Mark and I met up with them there, and brought my nephew Grant for his third trip that week.

The Sea World parking lot is huge, and out of all the parking spaces, I picked the one right next to Andrea! What are the chances?!? We spent a fun day with Andrea and her fam, with Grant leading the way to each exhibit because, he reminded us, he knew where every place was.

"Oh yeah? Where's Rancho Cucamonga?" I asked, so he clarified he knew where everything in Sea World was.

We returned home for our next engagement, dinner at the neighbor's house. I was happy because Scott the neighbor, is a chef, and his food did not disappoint. I was also excited to meet Michelle's famous Uncle Bim, who my parents love. He had great stories, and an even better Alabama accent. The conversation slowed down after dinner, though, as Uncle Bim fell asleep at the table. He woke briefly to mention something about his time zone being three hours ahead, but then he fell back asleep. The funniest thing was that it did not slow down dinner in the least--we all kept laughing, drinking wine, and talking. My brother Scott was telling stories, loudly, as he's famous for doing, and it didn't bother Uncle Bim in the least--he actually started snoring.

"He always falls asleep," Scott said later. "He usually blames it on the jet lag."

Sunday was our last day together, which bummed out Mark (he loves his cousins). Mary announced we were going out for breakfast, and I saw the kids move faster than I had all weekend (they really love brekky!). We had a sing-along in the car, switching up the words to all the songs, and singing about how we were sexy and we knew it ("I work out!"). If that mini-van was fueled by giggles, we could've driven on forever.

By the time we packed up our car and headed out, I was exhausted from laughing so much all weekend. I had such a blast with the kids--they're at that age now where they really get it, and they've all got such diverse, hilarious senses of humor, I could just spend my days listening to them and cracking up.

So even though my parents were gone, we still managed to have a pretty awesome Thanksgiving. And I'm still giving thanks now, days later, for being lucky enough to be surrounded by the thing I hold most dear to my heart--my family and friends.

Man, I can't wait until Christmas!

Family camp out

I went camping in Santa Barbara with most of my family this weekend (my parents camped out at a local hotel and visited us during the day). Here are just some of the things I learned about them:

The boys are all obsessed with fire. My brother Tim constantly stoked the camp fire, and my nephew Nicholas even sacrificed his favorite stick to the flames. Mark couldn't stay away, either--he was a little pyro, throwing anything flammable (and a few things that weren't) into the pit whenever he thought no one was watching.

Tim has a short attention span. He spent long hours prepping the fire, resurrecting it from smoldering ashes to a roaring blaze. And then he'd leave it. I watched him walk off to the beach, go ride bikes, or just mosey around the camp while the four-foot flames sent scorched ashes flying.

Tim and Mark were equally enamored of the shovel Tim brought to dig holes at the beach. I'm not talking cutesy little toy sand shovels, I'm talking about this:


That's right, Tim brought a full-size shovel to the beach. The first thing he did was dig a coffin-size hole, and then call his wife Kim over to look at it. I told Kim not to go to the beach alone with Tim; I'm worried he might give her a little nudge into the hole.

Mark shared an equal fascination with the shovel. Every time Tim put it down, Mark took off with it, digging deep trenches in the beach. I'm glad to know he has job security. (My brother Scott always says the world needs ditch diggers!) Before yesterday, I didn't even think my son knew what "manual labor" was.

I learned that yes, Grandma can ride a bike. She wheeled into camp on Mark's dirt bike. She also took a spin on mine later on. The kids thought the idea of a grandma riding a bike was hilarious.



Marshmallows are fun. Especially when your four-year-old nephew is around. And has eaten one s'more already. And the sugar has kicked in.

Here's a picture of Johnny right after Tim told him to sniff the marshmallow because marshmallows smell good.



Yup, Tim smushed it into his face. And the whole family laughed. (I know, we're not good people.) But Johnny loved the attention, so he moved the melted marshmallow to his cheek. Which amused everyone but Johnny's dad.

We also laughed when Tim tried to give Johnny this "s'more": it was really a hamburger patty between two graham crackers. Johnny refused it, proclaiming it (rightfully so!) disgusting.



Making s'mores is very dangerous--helmets required!




My niece Hannah spent most of her time in the ocean; she only came out when she turned blue. My sister-in-law Kim found that building sand castles was super relaxing. I'm sure it had nothing to do with her just getting out of school after having a particularly rowdy class this year. My dad's favorite thing about the campground was that it was right next to the railroad tracks; he loved watching the trains roll by.

And what did I learn about myself? I learned that I'm a bit jumpy. Every time Nick wanted to hug me, I tensed up, and took a defensive stand. It wasn't until Kim said, "Aww, Nick is a hugger," that I realized he had no ulterior motives. He really just wanted to hug me, not sneak in and punch me. A lifetime of brothers has made me paranoid. It's nice (if unnerving) to have an affectionate family member!



I also learned that the scent of campfire smoke lingers long after it should...I've already showered twice since I've been home, and I still get a waft of smoke every once in a while.

But hey, that's all part of the fun, right?

Have a heart

Last week was one of the most nerve-wracking weeks I've ever had, and truth be told, I'm really glad it's over.

My dad went in for bypass surgery (or open-heart surgery, as the doctors called it. Which freaked my Mom and I out, so we opted for the more vague but less-scary-sounding "bypass"). Initially, the doctors told him they'd be bypassing three arteries (triple bypass!!), but they actually ended up bypassing five.

He's fine now. A little loopy from the pain meds and bored by the hospital routine, but other than that, he's on the mend. He's no longer hooked up to the oxygen canister or sporting the plastic-mustache tube that delivered the oxygen. He doesn't have all the IVs and other liquid-filled bags hooked into him. (At one point, I counted 14 bags simultaneously dripping stuff into him.) As I write this, he's still in the hospital, but may go home today or tomorrow.

I'd like to say that in his hour of need, my family responded in the most graceful, mature manner possible. Of course, anyone who's met my family knows that is a lie. Instead, we handled it in the typical Dinsdale fashion: with nervous laughter, inappropriate jokes, and the constant threat of being tossed out of my dad's room for being too loud, or having too many family members crammed into his tiny room. (We patently ignored the "two visitors at a time" rule the entire time.)

But at least we all responded together. Between my immediate family, aunt, uncle, and cousins, we filled up half the ICU waiting room. There were 10 of us nervously pacing, trying to distract ourselves with smartphones, email, magazines, the giant TV, or by diving into any one of the seven containers of cookies. (Apparently, in my family, cookies are love, because everybody brought a batch.) We tried to distract my mom, who held up very well until the last hour.

And as scary as it all was (and still is), at least we went through it all together. It's so cliche to say at least we were all together, but it's the truth. I was relieved that my oldest brother was paying attention (and understanding) all the info the doctors gave us. I was grateful that my mom's siblings were there to hug her, and be her rock, as they've done their whole lives. I was blessed that my sister-in-law took over the home front, cooking while we waited in the ICU, and watching the kids so that we could focus on my dad. And I was glad to be surrounded by my own siblings (and cousin), just as my mom was, and receiving their brand of comforting, which involved a lot of playful punching and insults (that's how they show their love--why say the words "I love you, sis" when a jab to the kidneys will do?).

Like I said, my dad's made a lot of progress, and he's one tough dude -- he even has an awesome new scar to prove it. (I told him chicks dig scars.) My mom's hanging in there -- she's pretty tough herself.

So now we just wait a little longer. A little longer, and he'll come home. A little longer, and he'll be feeling better. A little longer, and he'll be up and walking around, joking like he usually does, and acting silly with the grandkids.

And I'll be grateful for it all.

Family time

Sunday was my aunt's birthday. To celebrate, we bought a cake, loaded up all the electronics Mark owns to keep him busy on the long drive, and headed to the desert.

"What are we gonna do when we get there?" Mark asked.

"We're going to visit," I told him. "That's what families do to celebrate special days."

He groaned loudly. To him, "visit" means the adults sit around and gab. He wasn't any happier when I informed him the Gameboy and iPod were for the car only; I was confiscating them as soon as we arrived. Even the promise of other kids to play with didn't make him smile.

"Don't worry," I told him. "Some day you'll have your own kids to torture with family days."

My mom was staying with my aunt, so she was already there when we arrived. My cousin Kathleen and her boyfriend Tim arrived shortly after us. In no time, the women were off again, headed toward the outlet mall while Tim and Mark stayed back. I couldn't help giggling at the irony.

"I spent the whole drive telling Mark how important it is to spend time with your family," I explained to my mom, aunt and cousin. "And then I ditched him 10 minutes after I got there!"

We returned for lunch, and the arrival of more cousins and my uncle. We enjoyed lunch and cake, and decided to go for a walk afterwards.

My aunt lives in a retirement community, on a golf course. This is important to note for two reasons: 1. The main source of transportation around the neighborhood is golf carts. 2. The seniors don't like to walk, even if (especially if!) they own dogs.

I found this out firsthand as one of the neighbors zipped around the corner at a very fast clip. When she turned back around, I noticed a long leash out the cart, tied to a Scottie running as fast as it could to keep up.




The neighbor passed by, and inquired about my aunt's health.

"She feeling better yet?" she called to my mom.

"Much!" my mom answered.

"She drinking yet?" the neighbor asked. Apparently, this is how they gauge one's health in my aunt's neighborhood.

"Not yet," my mom answered, "but she is eating chocolate!" That garnered a thumbs-up as the neighbor drove off.

We set out on our walk, and once again crossed paths with the Scottie and his owner chatting with another neighbor. The Scottie was now resting on the golf cart seat, but jumped down to greet us.



I couldn't stop giggling about the dog and the golf cart.

"That's how everyone walks their dog around here," my aunt told me.

"Yeah, we're lazy!" laughed the Scottie's owner in the cart.

We walked on back to my aunt's home, to enjoy what was left of the afternoon. We chatted with my uncle, and cousins, and teased the kids. It was a really fun day.



And of course, the best part about it is that the next time Mark asks for a puppy, I'll have a good reason why we can't get one -- we don't have a golf cart, so how ever would we walk it? ;-)