Why I'm Not Speaking to Bryon

It's painfully obvious to everyone that our time left in California is finite. I mean, come on, Bryon's already left, right? And, he expects us to join him in D.C. Dumb old, cold sometimes, snows sometimes, not California, D.C. Ugh.

I have until December or January. Stupid assignments always messing things up. I wouldn't have our life any other way, truthfully. I like moving. I like change. I like the adventure. All that, blah, blah....

But, I also like spending my morning like this.

And this.

And this.

Maybe if I convince Bryon that I need to do my Ph.D. at Stanford and it must be done now, I can con another five years here out of him.

Of course, we would have to sell our adorable child to afford a place like that. But, I think we'd find takers. I mean, you've seen him, right? The VA won't pay forever, you know?

I could study the possibilities for what this thing is. From a distance (you look like my friend--hee hee) I thought it was a large chunk of vertebrae that had been really battered.

Up close, it seems to be some sort of boat part. But, what?

The whoosie-whatsit? That thing that does the flibbity-jibbit? Yes, of course. Anyway, I poked it. With my hand, once I saw that it had a flat metal-appearing fitting and realized it was probably mechanical and not organic; but then I thought, "what if I'm wrong?" and I got grossed out.

Anyway, thoughts on what it is? I'm talking to you Bryon and Gramps.

Our tally for a morning at the beach was about forty dragon flies, four lizards (which Collin informed me would be six if we saw only two more), and this rock, which we had to bring home.

Collin carried it up a precipice-laden, extremely steep hill, which I felt was dangerous because of the slippage risk and the impalement danger of him carrying a sharp object against his chest. When I brought this risk up to him, he said:

"Mommy, I won't impale myself, it will only stab a little. I won't get blood. I promise." Okay. Hard to argue. And, he didn't. He also made it all the way up the hill with a rock that was much too heavy for him to carry that far, and all the way to the car before hoisting it into the front seat and saying, "here, this is for you now." Thanks buddy. I always wanted a shapeless, ugly, grey rock.