Catching Our Breath

Roman asked just before bed: Can we go back to the hospital for one of those popsicles?

He's referring to the popsicle that, with a steroid chaser, cost a $100 co-pay and last night's rest. Poor guy was stricken with croup, so I took his barking little body to our friendly neighborhood ER, where he was finally able to catch his breath and watch Toy Story 2. And enjoy a midnight popsicle.

(Note the clock. We don't like to be anywhere but bed at zero-o'clock)

And so marks our official return to normal here in Wichita. We're all recovering, actually, and trying to catch our breath from an extended case of California vacation jetlag. We had the most lovely time, and all that beach, family, food and celebration made for a reluctant return. Indeed, I've mentally maintained Roman's ER posture (see above) for two full weeks. 

Thankfully, Ben jumped right back into school (he missed it, actually), there's a little snow on the ground (the first of the season) and, most importantly, Roman is better, after enjoying a sick day at home.

So here's to getting back into the Wichita swing of things (after a good night's rest, of course). And if homesickness strikes...

Ahhhh....deep breaths.

Rattled

Okay, I wasn't going to write about the earthquake because...well, how predictable, right?

"California girl in Midwest surprised by a (minor) earthquake; insists on making big deal of it."

But then, there was another one. And then another. Three in three days.

What's going on down there, Oklahoma?! I lived 18 years in California without being rattled once! (Although, California, you gave it your best with Loma Prieta and Northridge. I just wasn't very perceptive in my early years.)

Of course, we're all fine. It jostled Anthony the most; he said it sounded like people were running up our stairs. The boys, with wide, inquisitive eyes as Anthony explained it, blamed it for their train track destruction (actual cause: my clumsiness).

But all is quiet in Oz on day four. Which reminds me..isn't tornado season just around the corner?

 

Photo borrowed from my good friend Ken.

Dang Song

It's a sure sign of rock-bottom homesickness when the song "California Girls" (er, sorry, "Gurls") makes me choke up. I'm not normally one to quote Katy Perry, but truly nothing comes close to the Golden Coast.

Must be today's Wichita weather, which is what they call SEVERE. That's code for, "don't open your door or it'll blow off its hinge." Children under 40 lbs. (that's Roman) blow into hedges and, in more SEVERE cases, houses land on unsuspecting witches.

Thankfully, we don't have to go far today. After an incredibly busy-but-fun day yesterday, we're in today, with only laundry and naps on the agenda.

But, alas, we'll be on the coast soon enough; we're traveling to San Pedro in two weeks for Anthony's dear Grandma Jean's 90th b'day. In the meantime, I've got to get this damn song out of my head.

Speaking of travel, before the weather turned SEVERE (you can't help but write it that way!), we popped out to get big-boy Ben his own suitcase with b'day money from his great-grandfather Ben. When you turn 5 in this house, you dress yourself (note the muscle-T, Hawaiian shorts and camo shoes) and haul your own suitcase. Let the traveling begin!