Odd Lots

I've noticed a lot of random things for sale in parking lots here. This happened in Baltimore too. Of course, in Baltimore, those things were usually being sold out of the back of someone's car and were undoubtedly stolen goods. I think we may have unwittingly purchased stolen party supplies in one of our more naive moments when we lived there. Here, the wares do not appear to be stolen but can be a bit unusual. You get the run-of-the mill items like cherries from Montana, or peaches from... somewhere. (Possibly a factory downtown?) But you also see things like Bonzai trees being sold out of a semi-truck in the parking lot of a music supply store. I'm still waiting for them to do a package deal like, "Buy a Bonzai and save 20% on all Bongos!" Anyway, the other day I was driving away from our "mall" and saw this amazing array of goods being sold in the parking lot:

I wish the lighting was better and that I had a better shot of the rooster but it was the best I could do with a van full of kids and not wanting to seem too interested in what they had to offer. It was a good thing that the kids were with me, because, to tell you the truth, I think if I had been alone I may now be the proud owner of a large bronzed something. I mean these things were cool looking. For one mad moment I truly believed that I NEEDED a large and majestic bison. He could live in our backyard and the boys could climb on him, or perhaps he could greet visitors in our entryway with his stylish, stately manner. Imagine the conversations that could be started! "That's a nice statue you have there." "Thank you, may I offer you some buffalo wings?" If only the balance of our Bronze Mammals budget wasn't currently at zero!
You know, I think if the statuary truck ever comes again, I might just buy something. I'm thinking the life-sized baby elephant. He would look great next to my new bonzai tree.

New Kids on the Block

When we moved to Cleveland, no one noticed. I mean, the ward noticed and our neighborhood noticed but the city of Cleveland was like, "Meh, who cares?" Now that we've moved to a small town, everyone notices. It helps that Marc sees huge numbers of community members in his job everyday and that people here are so friendly. I meet people almost on a daily basis who also have some connection to Marc and I am slowly making ties in the community myself. In most ways, this is great. However, when you have children, sometimes a little anonymity is nice. For example, when my boys misbehaved in Cleveland in a store or at the park and others witnessed it, I could comfort myself by saying, "No big deal. I will probably never see those people again." Here? Not so much. Like the poor repairmen who fixed our garage door and then my boys followed them out of the house and accused them of stealing our ladders and tools? Yeah, we are totally going to see them again.
For the first few weeks I was quite paranoid about taking the boys out in public at all. I was afraid that people would notice Dr. Ricks' children misbehaving and start to doubt his qualifications as a pediatrician. I have relaxed a little bit as I've seen that most people are very understanding about active little boys and there are a lot of big families in the area. However, I still have moments with my guys that make me cringe. I guess I'm just hoping we didn't trade our anonymity for a little notoriety.

Half Time

It's unbelievable but our little Tobias turned 6 months old last week. He is a love. His smiles light up our lives and we are enjoying watching him sit up, roll over and experiment with mobility. He frequently cackles at his brothers' antics and has recently started blowing raspberries. He is enthusiastic about being able to eat solid foods with his top three favorites being blackberries, watermelon and pickles and he even cut his first tooth to help out with all that chomping. His love of eating shows- he is weighing in at more than twenty pounds. He is a fatty, and we are grateful since there was some concern at first about his ability to gain weight. He has put all those concerns to bed. Speaking of which, he is still not sleeping through the night but we are making some progress in that arena. All in all, he is just a delightful baby. We can't get enough of this kid!
Here are some of my favorite 6-month-old pictures.

We should just call this kid, "The Hair". It's his number one distinguishing feature and I'm happy to report that he is enjoying his baths these days which is good since those locks have gotta be washed. A big thanks to my friend Molly who introduced us to the SNL sketch "Baby Toupee". He could totally be a faux model for that product.

He is a really good sport about playing dress up.

Mmmm, real food.

Sometimes he can be a bit of a Diva, even in his sleep.

And sometimes he is really not sure what you are saying to him.

He LOVES to be outside with the wind blowing in his hair. I'm not kidding, he really does like the wind in his hair.

He is just stinkin' adorable. I'm not kidding about the stinking part either, but he is so worth it!

Go to the Mattresses

One exciting thing about living in small town, North Dakota is that it is remote. This can be good, it certainly makes for some beautiful (and long) drives to get to other places but it also means there are some inconveniences. We've found that it is difficult to get things shipped here. We first experienced this when we were still in Cleveland and trying to get our earnest money to the real estate company in order to secure the bid we placed on our house. It's a long story, but we thought the first check didn't make it at all and so we needed to send another one ASAP. I went to the Post Office to try and overnight a check to our kind and patient realtor. That's when I was informed that you cannot overnight things to Dickinson. Oh sure, you can pay the overnight fee but it will still take at least two days to get there. In the end, it took about a week to get to our realtor because even after the check arrived in North Dakota the post office was snowed in for a few days.... in mid-April.
Now that we live here, we have had several instances of delayed packages. Because of the limited retail available, we joined Amazon prime as an alternative way to get what we need. "Prime" shipping here however has turned out to be 3-4 days instead of the advertised two-day speed. It doesn't really bother us, we just have to giggle about the shipping time estimates being so far off from reality. We understand that this town is not close to any big cities so it takes time for things to make their way here, but what really baffles us is that when we track our packages they seem to spend an inordinate amount of time sitting in warehouses. It's as if any package that is being sent to North Dakota has to go through a rigorous preparation program. It's like BUDS for boxes. I think in the parcel world that stands for Briefings for Unique and Dangerous Sites. I imagine that packages headed to North Dakota have to be trained to withstand the extreme temperatures, avoid bison patties, know how to react if approached by large wildlife, steer clear of oil dirks, accept the fact that they will get bleached in the direct sunlight and hold their ground in a high wind. The things we ordered probably got a big pep talk as they were being loaded into the truck. "You can do this. This is what you spent a week in the warehouse preparing for. It might be cold, it might be hot, it will be windy and you better believe the sun will be shining.... unless they are having one of those crazy electrical storms... or a tornado, but that's okay because nothing can keep a good box down. Now get in there and make us proud!"
So while anything and everything takes its time getting to us, nothing has given us more trouble than mattresses. In one instance, I ordered a mattress from walmart.com for site to store pickup. When I ordered it, the website claimed it was available for same-day pick up. (Things sell out so fast that it is sometimes safer to order it online. By the time you physically get to the store it may be gone.) The estimated pick-up time then changed to 3-5 days and finally settled on 7-10 business days. I guess that mattress did not complete its BUDS training in a timely fashion. The real saga, however, is the tale of the "cruton" (aka futon) mattress I ordered for the twins. I ordered a black, 8" futon mattress. It was supposed to arrive in two days. A week later, it still wasn't here. The tracking number showed that it had made its way to Bismarck which usually means it would be on our doorstep in a day or two. I called the post office and then fed-ex to see what the hold up was. It turns out that somehow the mattress had been separated from its shipping label so it got sent to the fed-ex depository of lost items..... in Tennessee.
I guess Tennessee is the logical place to send things that you don't know what to do with. Tennessee is, after all, the Volunteer State so I imagine that when fed-ex said, "Hey, where should we send all of these things that don't have a label?", the entire state of Tennessee jumped up and down with its hand in the air and said, "Ooh, pick me pick me! I volunteer!"
Anyway, the nice fed-ex lady with a pleasant twang in her voice had me describe what was in my missing package and then I suppose the employees just started sorting through the giant lost and found pile because they found it a few hours later and called me back. Of course, they claimed they would overnight it. Three days later it arrived. Just looking at it, I could tell it had been on some journey. The mattress was compressed into a cylinder shape and then shipped in a duffel bag which now had several large rips in it. It looked exactly like the pictures of the product had online and a new shipping label was affixed declaring that this was the very mattress I had been waiting for. I was ecstatic. I promptly pushed, pulled and dragged the very heavy thing up the stairs and into the boys' room. I was excited to watch the mattress "explode" from a 12" diameter cylinder into a full-sized futon mattress.
The first difficulty came in trying to get it out of the bag. There were so many rips that it kept getting snagged, so I ended up grabbing a pair of scissors and just cutting the rest of the bag open. Once the bag was out of the way, the mattress did indeed explode. It was a full sized mattress, but it was white, it was only 6" thick and it was decidedly not made for a futon. It had no intention of bending in the middle, thank you very much, despite my best efforts. We could get it to bend, kind of, and it would stay that way as long as people were sitting on it, but as soon as we stood up it would spring back into its natural flat shape and come flying off of the futon frame. Of course, the boys thought it was pretty awesome, but I was not pleased.
The people at Amazon were very nice when I reported the problem and promised to "overnight" us a new futon mattress. They also wanted us to put the first mattress in the duffel bag of the new one in order to ship it back to them. Despite our protestations that A. you can't overnight things to Dickinson and B. there was no way we were going to get that mattress back into a duffel bag of any size, the lady on the phone was optimistic that everything would go according to plan. There was just no convincing her that it wasn't going to work so we agreed to give it the old college try.
Needless to say, the mattress did not arrive the following day but it did come in a speedy three day time frame. The new mattress duffel bag was a behemoth, with a diameter of about 15". With Marc's help, we managed to get the thing upstairs and get the duffel bag off in one piece. For the second time, a mattress exploded into being and this time, thank goodness, it was exactly the right thing. It worked beautifully.
Now came the fun of trying to squish a fully expanded full-sized mattress into a duffelbag.  I'm sure watching Marc and me trying to roll up a mattress would have been a comic experience. We tried several times in various ways. We actually got close- I think we got it rolled down to an 18" diameter at the cost of several rug burns on our knees.
Once again, we called Amazon and reported that we now knew for sure that we could not get the mattress back in the bag. The perky optimistic people on the phones had lots of other ideas for shipping the mattress back. They all involved a lot of work for us like buying a special mattress box and driving long distances to a place that would ship something that large, assuming we could fit the mattress in our van in the first place. I guess we could always borrow a truck from.... well almost anyone. In the end, Marc convinced them that making us do a lot of work for their mistake was unacceptable. If they could send someone to pick it up, fine. That's when they told us just to keep the thing. So, the upshot is if you come to visit us you will NOT be sleeping on an air mattress because we have mattresses to spare around here. When you go to our house, you go to the mattresses.

Four!

Our little David John turned four last month. Seriously, where does the time go? We had a wonderful time spoiling him on his birthday. He is so demonstrative that it is just a joy to give him a present. As an added bonus, whatever switch that got flipped when David John turned three that made him extremely naughty seems to have gotten turned off or at least way way down. Ever since his birthday, his behavior has improved in leaps in bounds. He still has his exasperating moments (see my last post about shopping with football zombies- David John headed up that effort) but as a whole he is just adorable and so fun right now.
David John LOVES movies. He memorizes dialogue, talks about the funny parts and just cracks up about anything remotely amusing when he is watching them. Probably his all-time favorite movie is Despicable Me and his favorite thing about that movie is the minions. I need you to understand this so that you can try to imagine his over-the-top reaction to his (loosely) minion-themed birthday celebrations.
Earlier in the month, we took him to see Despicable Me 2 at the theater (Yes! We do have a theater. It only has 3 screens but it is really cute and offers the largest bucket o'theater popcorn I have ever seen.). Grandma and Aunt Gina had given all of the boys minion shirts before we moved so, of course, they all had to wear them to the show.

Uncle Marcus knew about David John's minion obsession and tipped me off about an adorable idea to make minion cupcakes with twinkies. My mom and I whipped them up the night before his birthday.
Aren't they cute?!?

When David John saw them the next day he exclaimed, "What the?!?! Minion cupcakes?!?!" He then fell into a disbelieving stupor.

We did finally get him to blow out the candles...

and sample a tasty cupcake.

David John loved his cupcakes and was baffled when Marc declined to eat one. "What?!? You don't want one? But Daddy, they have CANDY for EYES!" This expression came complete with his hands held up to his eyes like goggles.
David John was thrilled by everything he received. His one request for his birthday was a "prize bag" even though it wasn't gong to be a big party with friends. Grandma was able to get minion coloring books and stickers, minion keychains and minion figurines to put in the bags. There were also pencils, tops, balloons and little airplanes. His official presents contained movies- Wreck-it Ralph and Flushed Away/Shark Tale combo, "Pingo" book by Brandon Mull, minion goggles and stylin' new cowboy boots.

I should also mention that Oma and Opa gave him an early birthday present of a beautiful temple pop-up book. He loves to look at it and then put it reverently back on the scripture shelf where Benjamin won't get it. When asked what his favorite present was he thought about it, then diplomatically replied, "All of them." I think his statement is true. He is still enjoying "all of them".
This wouldn't be a post about David John without mentioning some of his latest sayings that just make us smile.

David John loves to shoot his nerf dart gun, but he needs help cocking it. He frequently brings it to us with the request "Cockroach this for me, please."
David John really enjoys playing on the "cruton bed" (aka futon bed) in his brothers' room.
He also is enamored of our nice dishes in the china cabinet. He keeps asking when we are going to have a "fancy chinina dinner".
We've received an abundance of summer squashes from our kind friends and neighbors. As a result, David John has been enjoying grilled "zukiwi" and "zukiwi bread".
We sure love you big four-year-old.

Mom, Interrupted

My job is hard. I mean really hard. In fact, I have the hardest job in the whole world. That's because my children are the most challenging group of little boys in the continental United States, possibly in all of North America.
You might not believe me and maybe (or even most likely) it isn't true but I need to believe it. I need to believe that if the story of Hercules happened today, one of his twelve labors would be going grocery shopping with all five of my children. I need to believe that if we produced a version of the reality show Survivor in which contestants had to do my job, they would vote themselves off because it is just that tough. I need to believe that doing my job would make Chuck Norris cry. Because here's the thing: if I can't blame my inability to get anything done on the nearly impossible nature of my job then there must be something wrong with me.
Of late, I have found that accomplishing anything, anything at all is an extreme challenge. Last week we had four days of "chef's special" style meals because I was unable to complete my grocery shopping. Why? Because I was constantly halted in my efforts by certain individuals. We will not name names. Instead, we will refer to them as interruption specialists. Anyway, these interruption specialists were pretending to be football playing zombies while I was trying shop. This involved running, hiding, and tackling each other, activities which were not appreciated by store employees. For some reason, the football playing zombies also felt a need to throw large quantities of cashews, cheese, bread and kool-aid packets on the floor. I am unsure why they did that unless, being undead and no longer able to eat, just the sight of foodstuffs filled them with a longing for their former lives and stirred within them a primal rage for the emptiness of their current existence. Although, that still doesn't explain the glue mess in the office supplies aisle or the decision of one zombie to sit down in the middle of the floor and refuse to move. In the end, I hauled five little zombies back out to the van, leaving my full grocery cart behind for some poor stocker to reshelve.
It isn't just the bigger tasks that go unfinished either. It's the little things, like unloading the dishwasher. Sometimes, it literally takes me all day to get that done. Even activities such as brushing my teeth or using the restroom don't happen without interruption. My interruption specialists are just that good. There is nothing quite so frustrating as closing the bathroom door only to hear "Mom!" being shouted by several different voices in a very insistent manner. It is no wonder that Susanna Kaysen used the title "Girl, Interrupted" for her memoirs about life in a mental institution. I certainly feel like I am going insane on a regular basis due to the constant interruptions. In fact, the more I think about it the more I am amazed that psychiatric wards are not filled to capacity with the stay-at-home moms of toddlers.
Interrupting is an art and one my boys have mastered. They have every variety of interruption down pat.
The random question: "Mom, if everyone in the world cried one tear, would it flood our
                                  basement?"
The random factoid: "Mom! In the Curious George 2 movie, the bad guy jumps out of
                                an airplane without a parachute but he doesn't die!"
The urgent viewing opportunity: "Mom! Mom! I need to show you something!"
                                                 "Okay, buddy. What am I looking at? That looks like a
                                                 clogged toilet."
                                                 "Yep. I had to clog it, Mom, because there was too much
                                                  poop."
The urgent call for assistance: "Mom! Mom! Mom! I need help!"
                                             "What's wrong?"
                                             "There are bumps in my sock."
The mysterious noise: "Guys! What was that sound?"
                                  "Don't worry Mom, we are just playing ball explosion and throwing
                                   balls down the stairs. If a ball hits you three times then you are out."
The ambiguous scream: "Hey boys! Is that a happy scream, an angry scream or a hurt
                                     scream?"
                                    "I only hit him one time!"
Probably the most disturbing interruption of all is the non-interruption, complete silence. It sounds like this:

When I hear that, I drop whatever I am doing and track them down. So, even when they aren't actively interrupting they are still a distraction. Maybe that's good. They make sure I keep my priorities straight; kids first housework second. Read, kids first, housework never. Anyway, I guess for now that is okay. I'll just have to embrace my identity as Mom..... interrupted.

Wild Wild MidWest

The United States has serious issues with its labels for geographical regions. We have moved 1,288 miles north and west of our previous location. We are now two time zones away from where we were before and yet, somehow, both Ohio and North Dakota are part of the "mid-west" of our country. As my son, David John, would say, "What the?!?!"
Anyway, despite being in the same region of the country, I can definitely say, "We're not in Cleveland anymore, Toto." Let me outline some of the differences for you:
1.Ohio is definitely a swing state. In Ohio, the language tends to be very PC. Politics tends to be a touchy subject. North Dakota, on the other hand, is a red state. People here tend to say what they think and it usually has a conservative bent. Frankly, it is kind of refreshing. I think it works here, not only because the population tends to be more homogeneous in their political opinions but because North Dakotans are just so darn nice and polite. This brings me to the next point...
2.People in North Dakota are NICE. I mean beyond nice. Talk about midwestern hospitality. Don't get me wrong, many people in Ohio were very friendly. We love Ohioans, but as a rule it was easy enough to find surly people in any customer service department or fast food restaurant. North Dakota takes the word nice to a whole new level. In the almost two months we've lived here I have run into exactly 2 surly people. When I landed in the airport here my ride was a little bit late to pick me up. I had multiple people ask me if I was okay, if I had a ride and a very nice couple offered to throw my things in the back of their truck and drive me home. I have been to McDonalds once here and it is the first time in all of my McDonalds experiences in which I felt that the woman running the drive-through was sincere when she said "Thank you for choosing McDonalds. We're happy to serve you today." During our closing, the realtors took turns holding Tobias and cooing over him. The amazing people who sold us our house even filled up the propane tank on the gas grill they left us and we found this cute sign on the chalkboard when we arrived.

People here are so nice that only time I have heard horns being honked is when someone is trying to say hello to a friend. We have received treats and gifts from so many neighbors and other community members, I don't know how we are ever going to repay all the kindness.
3.In Cleveland, we lived primarily in a community of young professionals. The economy there is based on medical care. Here, we are living in a community of people with amazing hands-on skills in an economy based on agriculture and oil. This was evident in church when someone commented that many young people today are lacking in some basic skills and that we, as parents, need to make sure our children are being taught these skills. You know, the basics, like breaking down an engine and sweating a pipe fitting. These comments made me feel a little jealous. There is something so empowering about understanding and being able to fix things. I felt like superwoman last month when I replaced a fitting on the gas line for our grill and got to use plumbers tape. Oh yeah, I'm hardcore. I think it is telling that many of the doctors and staff at Marc's clinic also raise cattle. I'm betting no one at the Cleveland Clinic had a dual life as a rancher. This brings me to difference number four.
4. Everyone, and I mean everyone, here owns a truck and a pair of boots. We fully plan on buying into the boots fashion statement but I think we have to hold our ground and become North Dakota's token non-truck owners. My mother, who grew up in Arkansas, told me when she visited that she has never seen so many trucks in her entire life. I tried and failed to find some statistics about truck ownership but I can tell you that North Dakota is one of the top seven states for vehicles per capita. I guarantee it's because everyone owns a car AND at least one truck.

So, while the small town politics and politeness has a very midwestern feel, the boots and the trucks give the place a western edge. Actually, I think that's the town slogan, "The Western Edge." I mean, the high school here has a rodeo team and we got to experience the cowboy culture first hand during the annual Roughrider Days. Here are a few pictures from our first professional rodeo experience:
The big boys loved watching the rodeo action.

I was amazed at the bronco riding. I don't know how those guys stay on. I confess, though, to identifying more with the horse than the rider. I know what it's like to have someone riding your back and you just can't seem to shake them off. Of course, I have up to five of them clinging to me at one time, with their bodies wrapped around my legs and calling my name repeatedly while I am trying to hear someone on the phone. Still- you and me bronco. I think we have an understanding.

David John was less enamored of the whole experience. He kept asking, "When is the fun starting?" to which I would reply, "This IS the fun!" I took him on walks around the bleachers to get his wiggles out, but after he ran away several times and attempted to climb the fence and get in the rodeo arena I gave up on that tactic. He seemed to like the roping a little better than the bronco riding although he was concerned about the comfort of the "baby cow".

Benjamin was also unimpressed by the rodeo spectacle and spent most of his time smarming his way into the laps and hearts of several grandparent types who were sitting around us. These men and women were so kind and patient with him wanting to climb up on their knee, play with their car keys, wear their hats and eat their snacks. Little stinker. He did seem to like the rodeo clown but even that didn't hold his attention for long.

Benjamin and David John both left a little early with Daddy to go wait in the car so that the big boys could enjoy the last of the rodeo in peace and so we wouldn't lose either of the little runaways in the big rodeo crowd. "Where was Tobias during all of this?" you may ask. He was sleeping in the lap of another kind woman who was sitting next to our family and noticed we might need an extra pair of hands. It's really too bad Marc had to leave with the little guys. He missed the most exciting part- the bull riding. These bulls weren't messing around. One of them nearly jumped right over the walls of his gate. The rodeo clown stands in a barrel for protection during the bull riding and it is a good thing. One of the bulls charged right at him, so he ducked down inside the barrel which the bull proceeded to knock over and then roll across the arena. One of the bull riders got thrown off pretty quickly after which the bull charged one of the assistant rodeo clowns. The assistant jumped in the air just as the bull lowered his head and ran, with the result being that the rodeo clown landed on the bull's back and HE rode the bull for a few seconds before getting thrown. It was pretty thrilling.

Welcome to the wild wild midwest.

Packing It In

With this move we were completely spoiled and had a cushy moving allowance. This meant that a moving company actually came to our house to pack up our things for us. To me, this seemed like an extravagant luxury. Having lived through the experience, however, I'm not sure that I would describe it as luxurious. What would normally take me weeks of careful sorting and packing was done in a matter of hours.
The moving company was owned by a husband and wife team. They were very nice and hired a couple of additional hands to pack up our house. It wasn't the people that made the experience less-than-desirable, it was just the sense of loss of control. It was as if a black hole suddenly opened up and everything in my house disappeared into the swirling vortex and then reappeared in the moving truck. Anything that wasn't physically attached to your body was in danger of being packed.
During the insanity, my friend called to see if she could help clean. I said that would be great and asked her to bring some paper towels because all of mine (even the opened partial rolls) had been packed. Thirty minutes later she was at my house with the promised paper towels complete with a pair of latex gloves sticking out the top. Before we got to cleaning, I wanted to show her a shelf in the basement that she could have if she wanted it. In the time that it took us to walk to the basement and back up again, the new roll of paper towels had been, you guessed it, packed.
All day, I felt as though I was asking the question, "Have you seen the ___?" and the answer was always the same. "Yes, we packed it."
Curtains belonging to our landlord? Packed.
Curtain rods we had purchased to replace one that our boys broke? Packed.
Bubble wrap for packing our breakables? Packed.... in its own separate box.
The key for turning the gas fireplace off and on? Packed.
Partial bags of chips we were planning to send as snacks for the road trip? Packed.
Bottles of water for the trip? Packed.
My friend's son took his shoes off at our house while the packers were there and I asked him to put them back on in fear that they might end up in a box. This turned out to be good advice. I wish I would have taken it. At some point in the chaos, I took off my shoes and put on a pair of flip flops. It wasn't until the evening after the truck was loaded and gone that I realized my mistake. Every last pair of shoes was long gone, sucked into the void. I had to go buy another pair just so I could attend my last Zumba class and so I wouldn't be navigating the airport the next day in flip flops. My duffle bag of clothes did escape the packing frenzy which is kind of too bad. I could have gotten an entirely new outfit out of this deal.
Anyway, I have to give the movers credit. All of our things made it to our new house without a single item being broken. A couple of game boxes got a little squished, a few pages in books bent but all-considered it was a job well done. One thing is for certain- this experience has given me a new respect for Green Bay football players. I used to think their team name was a little weak. Now, I know better. Packers are a force to be reckoned with.

Moving Right Along

It really happened. We moved to North Dakota. Please forgive my extended absence from the blogging universe. It turns out that moving into a new house with five small children and trying to unpack everything is very time consuming. It also turns out that it is exhausting. Who knew? Anyway, we are just starting to find some sort of feeling of normalcy in our new lives and I hope to be back to providing regular updates with stories and pictures. I just wanted to write this brief introduction in case there were any doubters out there who thought that I had just run out of stories to tell. Believe you me, I am chock full of tales of our new adventures already. I also want to extend a blanket invitation to friends and family who haven't come out to see us yet. Come see us! We've got room a plenty.