Archive for the ‘the ones about our travels’ Category

The ice cream lovers have left the city in search of the perfect cone.

We packed the four scoops in Heather’s van with HungryMan, baby Ilsa and more than our fair share of luggage.

We’re headed south to more lake county in search of new adventures.

Preferably adventures that end with a crispy cone and not a emergency vehicle.

Read Full Post »

Between multiple posts about our New Mexico excursion and a forty degree drop in temperature outside, I am starting to get a bit homesick. The thermometer on my car said 17 today. And I’m not even going to check weather.com, because I’m fairly certain it was the reverse down in Dona Ana.

So while I’m huddled up here on my couch next to fireplace and under one too many afghans listening to the north winds hurl their furry on our frosted windows, I thought would send you a hot cup of New Mexico.


Sip slowly, I wouldn’t want you to get burned.

Read Full Post »


I was going to stick these two specimens of desert wildlife in the New Mexico post, but I thought Ava and my roommates deserved a post of their own. Don’t you?

When I suggested that we cover them up with sheets before sleeping directly underneath them, Ava rejected the idea.

“Mama likes pink, soft pigs, but I like black scary pigs. Ava likes the scary black pigs! He’s a nice, black scary pig.”

That’s my baby’s hand in the jowls of a javalina. An image every mama wants to wake up to.

Read Full Post »

So in posting the White Sands pictures, it occurred to me that I never posted any pictures from our cross-country caravan.

In June, my cousin Heather and I packed up our four Croc-clad daughters, their four sleeping bags, seven lovies (four belonged to Ava), four backpacks crammed with activity books and crayons,

Uncle Moose (look how helpful he is),

and ourselves into her van.

Over the next two days we drove 1,151 miles through 5 states and about 15 states of mind to get to our hometown in Southern New Mexico. Her baby brother was marrying his childhood sweetheart, and we had four flower girls and one groomsman to deliver.

Oh, and some presents that needed a little extra reinforcing.

Food and potty breaks became recess.

Uncle Moose led the girls in calisthenics, helping them run off the energy stored

from 19 hours of this:

Uncle Moose, however, was completely mystified by the amount of time it took for six girls to use the bathroom. “What is going on in there. Come On. Just stick them in pampers. Let’s go!”

We started in lush, green farmland, crossing over Rockie Mountain switchbacks to come to the wild and beautiful desert.
“Cate, if we were on top of that mountain, we could touch the sky!”
“Well, we would need a stool.”
“Cate, if we had a stool on top of that mountain, we could touch the sky!”
“Well, we would need to hold our mama’s hand.”

In the valley of these mountains sits the home of my aunt and uncle, an oasis of green fenced in with mulberry trees, pecan trees, and my favorite willow tree.

No buckles, no straps, no windows, no doors, no recycled air–we’re free!

Push us higher Uncle Mark!

After two weeks of baby meeting,

tree climbing,
cowgirl dreaming,

petal dropping,

picture taking (bonus points if you can find Uncle Mark, the groom, and his beautiful bride, Joanna),

all-night dancing,
birthday celebrating (Happy Birthday Audrey!),

Mexican band hearing

(Ava: Mama, why are they talking funny?
Mr. Mexican Band: We’re speaking Spanish
Mrs. Mexican Band: We’re Mexican. You need to teach your daughter about Mexicans!),

and water drinking (hey it’s hot here and dry!),

it was time to get back in the boosters again. It’s a mystery to us why Uncle Moose chose an alternative riding arrangement home.

Sleep tight little ones. We are almost home.
Only ten more hours to go!

Oh, and thanks for making the first trek with us Uncle Moose! We couldn’t have done it without you or the “hip-hip-hip-po-pah-tu-mus!”

Read Full Post »


While I would love to say that I’ve been snowed in and been too busy sledding with my daughter to post any updates in a WEEK, it would not be true.

You all are too smart and observant to confuse sledding in the desert with sledding on the snow–I think the bare feet gave it away.

As for my week absence, I think a tummy full of Grandma Penny’s dressing and pecan pie; a camera full of sweetness; and bags full of Black Friday deals would sum it up fairly nicely. But for those of you kind of enough to read this blog I will illuminate further in a bit.

First, where there heck where we?

Read for yourself:
Growing up in the desert of the Southwest, a trip to White Sands National Monument was the closest that my family came to experiencing a snow day. Granted our school closed anytime frozen precipitation fell from the sky even if it melted before it hit the ground.

This is a sore subject with my husband who had to trudge through four feet of snow in subzero temperatures, and never once had a “snow day.” Of course our snow days never involved sledding, snow angels, snow ball fights, or the mythical ice forts we saw in movies.

The day after my cousin’s June wedding, we rounded up the remaining relatives and rode out to the endless dunes.

Yes, that is me at the top of the dunes. I was the first one to the top! No, I’m not at all competitive.

Now is it snow for sliding?

Or sand for burying?

Either way, it’s breathtaking!

Oh, and I’m not the only competitive one in my family. Check out Uncle Peter–Foul!

And look at Nate, he’s clearly got a leg up on the pile.

As for this post being prophetic….There was no snow on the ground when I published “snow day,” but we had a fresh blanket of white in the morning….

Read Full Post »