Our Reward

When we first arrived last summer, I was depressed by our surroundings.  Everything was a deep shade of…brown.  This was not the California I imagined, nor the California that I have heard about for years.  Green, fresh, farms, vineyards, those words came to mind prior to our arrival in July.  Once we made it to San Ramon, I wondered how one could contemplate lighting a candle, much less a cigarette. It looked as though one scritch of the match, and everything would be gone (except the country clubs; either they use very 'life-like' turf or they are responsible for millions of gallons of water waste).

We finally had our first rain in October, and it was a good one.  Nothing spectacular, but steady rain throughout the weekend. I think we had a few days of rain in November, and then an odd evening here and there in December.  January rolled around, and while more frequent, we could also go a week or two with nothing.  Then February stopped by and it seems like we have not had a dry day yet.

So, for those of you contemplating a trip here, bring your galoshes, umbrella, and a jacket, as hopefully (can you tell we need the rain?) you will put them to good use!  

In other news, Nicholas has taken his first few steps.  Last night, as we were playing with the jolly little guy, he just stood up and headed straight for Peter!  He tried again a few moments later, and completed a few more steps.  He wasn't terribly thrilled with the idea (but loved the attention).  Technically, those may not even be his first steps.  I swear he took them at the afore-mentioned Girl Scout meeting.  However, I was the only one watching and somewhat hard to prove it happened (no photographic evidence).

Last, but not least, I must mention Kelsey's most recent question to me…well, second most recent interesting question, the first being (when discussing how my father would figure out how to get from the Oakland airport to his hotel) "Does he HAVE a GPS?"  I am guessing she thinks anyone of the male persuasion must have one in order to, well, breathe.  I reassured her, and she decided Grandpa Kirk would be just fine.

Her other question?  Last night as I was braiding her hair (yep, we are the Ingalls family) before bed, she asked me, "Mom, what do you want to do when you grow up?"

Now I could take that in many different ways, and opted for the most meaningful:  that I still seemed young enough to have time to decide what I might want to do when not busy chasing The Boy around the house.  I pondered this for a moment when she piped up, "I know, you can be an artist!"

My mouth dropped open.  It is commonly known that I am perhaps the worst artist on the planet.  I totally missed the slash and line period of painting and thus have never felt I have much to contribute to the community of the arts.

"Well" I said, "I am not sure I can draw very well!"

"Hmm" she said, not wanting to upset me (or she drew a complete blank on my lack of talent in that arena)…"could you be a police woman?"

I didn't tell her that I thought one agent/cop sort in the family was enough or why I thought it was enough.  Hmm, a police woman.  Not sure that will happen, either.  However, I have several thoughts and at one point will put them into action. The only hitch is that all will likely involve more schooling, and that will be iffy at best depending on Peter's job at the moment.  Call me crazy, I am not into the online school thing (as popular as it may be), I would love to have the classroom experience again. 

Sadly, the question was never truly answered.  Then again, we had braids to finish, books to read, and bed covers to snuggle under.  Life is pretty darn good when you are six, if I do say so myself.