Not our Best Day at the Ranch

"Dad!" Paige exclaimed, "There's a hole in the back of our van!"

With all of our moving, we hadn't been to the ranch since the beginning of the summer. The kids were ecstatic that we were finally spending the weekend there. 

Traci and I walked onto the gravel driveway where Curtis and Tate were playing. With rocks. 

There sure was a hole in the back window, a hole the size of a softball. Cracks had spider webbed across the entire windo. Just looking at it brought a sheet of glass pebbles raining down. 

Though they were standing just feet from the van, neither Curtis nor Tate had any idea how it had happened. 

Curtis was street-smart enough to quietly flee the scene of the crime. Tate, however, chose to linger. 

"Tate," I asked, "What happened to the window?" 

"I dunno." 

"Did you guys hit it with a rock?" 

"No. Maybe something fell on it."

"Like a rock?" I asked. 

"Maybe."

But that's as close as we got to a confession. Even as we drove home, with our makeshift garbage-window flapping in the wind, no one was quite sure how the window had been broken.

(Tonight Traci's dad asked Tate about it. "Tate, did a rock break the window?" "Yes," he replied, before quickly adding,"but Curtis and I didn't throw it.") 

...

Though I spent the afternoon stewing in vehicular frustrations, the kids had a pretty good day. 

Helping Grandma paint the gate

  

Helping Grandpa saw up the tree that was blocking the road

And riding in the back of the truck

Tomorrow morning I've got a date with Techna Glass, where I'll find out just how much a weekend at the ranch is going to cost me. 

Baby, You're a Firework

I had a little PTSD tonight. My nephews were playing with fireworks and it made me think my first time throwing a firecracker.

I was at my grandpa's sheep ranch--I was probably nine or ten. My uncle handed me a box of matches and a single firecracker. Then he gave me just two simple instructions: 1. Light the firecracker. 2. Throw it.

I got it almost right.

I lit the firecracker just fine. But then, instead of throwing the firecracker, I threw the match.

Boom! The firecracker exploded in my hand.

I still remember my burnt fingers and my ringing ears. And, of course, my bruised little ego.

Happy birthday, America.

A Day at the Ranch

We're able to shove quite a bit of fun into eight hours at our ranch. There was slip-'n-slidin' and fourwheeler drivin' (Paige did much better this time--not like last year, when she almost ran me over) and giant kite flyin'.

What more could a bunch of kids ask for?

Paige Learns to Drive Four-Wheeler, Almost Kills Me

Paige quickly got the hang of the gas pedal. It was the brakes that were the problem. I had to cut the video short in order to prevent the imminent death of Tate and me.

Paige, however, was unfazed.


Luckily, all were unharmed. Well, except for the tripod that holds the sprinkler. Paige ran right over that a little while later. Oh, well.