Pecadillos

A Preface: My kids wanted to be on the swim team this year.

Caroline, [age 8], was to be in the 4:45 pm swim team practice slot for 7-8 year olds. Jackson, [age 10], was to be in the 5:30 pm practice slot for 9-10 year olds.

Wouldn't it be swell if I could just get them both in the 5:30pm practice slot so I could just make one trip to the pool every single day?

Yes it would be swell.


Me: "I'd like to enroll my kids in afternoon swim team, please."


Municipal worker at city HQ: "What are their ages?"


Me: "I'd like to enroll them both in the 9-10 year olds time slot."
(not a lie).


Muni lady: "When are their birthdays?"


Remedial math. Do it. Quickly. What would her birthday have to be to make her nine years old? Subtract or add a year to her actual birthdate?? 

{The blank stare of a dairy cow}.


Me: "11/22/99 and 04/20/99."


Muni lady: "They were both born in the same year?"

[Hoover Dam(n)].

I guess I added when I should have subtracted or subtracted when I should have added?! Why did I have to get the astute lady?

"Jackson is a foster child," I heard myself say.

What?!!  Abort!! ABORT!!


Muni lady (warily): "OK then, sign here and it'll be $110.00"


And just like that, I had relegated my pride-and-joy-firstborn-and-only-son to a foster child just to save a ten minute drive to and from the pool every day.


[Factoid]:  I loathe begging forgiveness from astute municipal worker ladies.

The next day when I went back in to clear my conscience, she threw me the exaggerated eye roll and did not go for my desperately-trying-to-be-humorous apology.

Apparently lying to (I prefer the term "misleading") the City of Gilbert is a grievous matter, because she then asked to see birth certificates, which luckily I had hauled in with me to prove the actual and factual birthdates of my children, who just want to swim on the dad blasted swim team!

I suppose it serves me right.


[Post edit]:  I got them both in the 9-10 year old time slot anyways simply by asking the coaches at swim practice if they could be together.

McNeverTellALie was amused.

As he usually is.

Second Favorite Holiday (after Thanksgiving)

(charlotte and grandpa tobler)

(charlotte and grandpa hoopes)

eleven things that tickle my fancy

caroline gave me a makeover. a new shag rug from Costco Home. powder room done. new tweed living room chair. a throw pillow in my favorite cool tone colors. a sunny window in my girls' bathroom (not something I would consider my style but I love this oval window).

one night away to the Hotel Valley Ho in Scottsdale with M.

a Randall cousins reunion pool party here. firing up the hot tub for about 16 shivering Randall cousins. in our WAY below average weather [of only 93 degrees]. big girl pants on Charlotte.

my friend Becky H. having a girl. after having four boys.

A new house

Home: [noun] 1. The place in which one's domestic affections are centered. 2. Any place of residence or refuge.

With my post-moving breakdowns hopefully behind me (I usually pencil them in on the calendar for about 10:30pm on Tuesdays), I have come up for air. Finally getting those last few boxes unpacked. Finally settling into a routine in my new fishbowl of a house. That I love. That has the greenest most tranquil backyard ever. That I want to stay in forever. And grow some deep roots for Marc and I and the kids. We were all a little surprised at how much we missed our Power Ranch people. But we're not letting go of those relationships. Can't get rid of the old Toblers. (Or Tobles, as we're now called in the new phone book).

This was our first local move (as opposed to trans-continental), yet we have still struggled to adjust a little. Better now. Still great having so much family nearby. Now we're even closer to everybody (yet not too close, if you know what I mean). We honestly could not have weathered this move without the indefatigable help of dear family and friends. THANK YOU. Really.

OH, and we grossly underestimated how much we dig having a pool. However, I'm having a hard time balancing the whole "be a cool mom and just get in a swim all day and enjoy your kids and live in a swimsuit" mom versus the "Frankly I look like a cross between a troll and a drowned rat upon exiting the pool and hate re-doing my hair/makeup over again if we have to go somewhere in the afternoons or nights" mom. If any moms with pools have any brilliant suggestions, I'm listening...

Still out of Commission

Blogging desire for today: LOW

Forecast for downloading photos desire: LOW

Forecast for finding camera to download photos: SLIM TO NONE

Temporarily Out of Commission

Since you've all be just dying to know what we have been up to over here, I'll indulge you with a few details:

a) we're moving in two weeks. {yes, we finally bought a house!} Photos forthcoming...

b) Way behind in the packing department.

c) I'm supposed to be training for my 2nd sprint triathlon in Tempe next week.

d) I seem to be plagued with a cough/phlegm issue for the past couple of weeks that has precluded my work out habits. Probably swine flu. Most likely due to global warming.

e) doing triathlon with both my sisters this year.

f) who will likely both kick my rear handily.

g) Here, for example, is a lovely photo of sis Susan at around mile 14. Not even winded.

Self-portrait.

I do so adore high-speed things involving the cool wind in my face.

On a beautiful cool spring day in the desert.

Liberation.

The road rash I risked getting this shot would not have been worth it.

On a completely unrelated topic, my pal JSchomaker (remember her?) just shot these beauts of my fluffy little easter chicks. Jenny photographs for Kaiya Eve, and the girls got to participate in her photo shoot for the new spring line.

We all know who had lots of fun posing in front of the camera.
[the little fireball with the alabaster skin in the turquoise fluff].

Conversely, Puffy Sue just frolicked around in the sunshine with her puffy hair wisping in the breeze with nary a care in the world. Her tongue hanging out mostly [luckily not in this one].

See ya in our next zip code!

One Day Apart

One day {and three years} apart.