Turner was most excited about the boats, and getting to ride a boat, and getting to take his fishing pole (which we did not have), and getting to fish. The only boat option was the party boat and I doubt that would have given Turner the good time he was seeking. Next time, perhaps, I'll do more investigating and find us a boat to stow away on for the afternoon.


At the dock Saturday morning "checking out the boat situation," but really just on our way to get some milk.



Loads of time in the water jumping waves and showing off material from swim lessons.

A big seagull that landed on the beach, then kind of skipped into the water as though a whole group of people were not around. Turner was a bit to the left of the spectacle. Safe from the large mouth that, according to Andy, snapped at the kids who tried to taunt the gull. I was too busy trying to take the picture to notice.


The refuge of our palapa. It was wonderful at night to watch the sunset. Great in the morning for breakfast and reading books.





Akin to our "minute clinics" popping up in drug stores? This was a convenience store. Had all the same options as Walgreens I'm sure.

Puerto Peñasco, Sonora

Grown up-ness.

Thursday past Turner and I are on the way home from his school (we had childcare hassle last week, so T got some quality time at his school with all his old friends and, of course, Ms. Carolyn). He is tired and did not get a nap. He rarely gets one now, but it makes such a huge difference when he does. Sometimes he is the funny, sleepy boy telling long and winding tales and finding all kinds of ways to keep his eyes open and his brain working. The other days, no nap equals constant confrontation and whinny. Thankfully, Thursday was a long and winding tale day. We are about to go to the bug place on Speedway (which comes before McDonald's and the obligatory "I sure do wish we could go to that place someday.") The radio is not on, and I am lost in the ongoing to do list in my head. I stop at the light, jot a few notes down and as the light turns green Turner says, "You know mom. I am thinking a lot about the government."
"Oh yeah. And what are you thinking?"
"I don't know. I was just thinking that we need to do something. We should try to talk about it and explain to other people that they should talk about it. Then we will all understand."
"Understand what?"
"About the government."
"Like, how the government is made up?"
"No, what it looks like. You know, is it tall like me or is it loud? What do you want to know about the government?"
"Oh, all kinds of things. Mostly how can we deter corruption?"
He is quiet. I can see his lips moving in the mirror as he tries out this new word. "Well, Kerupshun is a really tricky part. That's good for you. You figure that out. I'll think about how the government looks. You know," he pauses. Tired. He tilts his head a bit to one side then closes an eye. Tilts to the other side. We pull into our parking spot. "I guess I'll just have to consider all these important things another time."
"Why? Are you too tired now?"
"No." He unbuckles. Gets out of the backseat. He grabs my hand (which he never does when we are walking in from the car) and looks in my face. "You know Mom. I think I'm pretty smart so I don't have to think on all these things today. The government is a big thing I think. I can deal with it tomorrow."

Learning some summer lessons.

Every day of this summer it seems I am faced with another element of boy-hood that is so very different than the girl-hood I knew. I share with you a few of my "lessons":

Never drink anything without first asking what else has been in it. Last night, for example, I fixed myself a big glass of cold water. I took one drink out of it. Turner came out of the bathroom with his pet lizard (it is plastic). I go to the kitchen to finish getting some dishes put away. I return to the living room. I grab a drink of water. Then I sit down in the turquoise chair and it is wet. "Hey. Why's this chair wet?" I look down at my water, the only liquid around. "Were you thirsty buddy?" "No." He answers just as he buries his face into the pillow and giggles. I look around and see water is splattered on the rug and on the table. "Well, what happened?" "I wanted to see if my lizard would float in your cup too." "Ah." I mean a plastic lizard that has been everyone from here to there probably doesn't have that many germs on it, right? I don't worry. A few minutes later it occurs to me that I might want to get further information. "So where else did the lizard float?" "In the toilet." Nice.

Boogers are inevitable no matter how disgusting. Many of you know that I can handle some gross things better than others. Things having to do with the nose, however, are beyond my abilities of social politeness. I've been known to step out of lines because a kid (not MY kid) around me was digging and then using hands to touch other stuff. I've also gagged so much while standing in line that a mother accused me of being rude (I really couldn't help it. Her daughter was, eeeewww I mean her nose business, it was gross). So when Turner has his finger up there, as kids tend to do, I always gag and then remind him about the purpose of tissues. He is getting much, much better about taking the extra effort to use the tissue. One day as we were getting settled for nap, he brought his finger to the nose and I asked him, "Why not use a tissue?" "Because." Because he didn't want to get up and get it. So I did. Then I asked a question I never should have asked, "I mean, what do you do with them when you get them? Where do you put them?" there was the obvious answer and then, "They stick pretty good to the wall behind your bed."

Be prepared at any moment to be knocked to the ground. Between Star Wars and TMNT, Turner is a master fighter. He is intense in his strategy and precise in his description of what his opponent should do in response to particular moves. "When I do this then Mom you fall to the ground and wait for me to stab you in the eye." Sure. Me trying to fall to the ground is never easy or pretty, but it is funny sometimes. When I fall to the ground unintentionally of course it is scary. Sometimes in our play Turner will get the best of me and I'll trip over a body or a light saber or just over myself and sprawl out in the middle of the park, in the parking lot, and (most recently) out our front door. Turner laughs and shouts his success. As long as there isn't blood involved, I do my best to play it off. I am always the bad guy no matter how much I protest that there can be two good guys and we can work together...I've never had legs and hips so bruised in my life. Each day is a new adventure of how can mom be reminded of her inability to bounce.

If you are quiet you can hear the brain tick. On the way to swim lessons Thursday, Turner thought of a new word. It sounds like aternity. uh-ter-nity. But, it isn't Eternity. He took nearly ten minutes to explain to me the nuances of this word. Defining it. Using it in sentences. Then telling me I should teach it to my students that day (which I did). Basically, aternity is a firing in the brain that tells you things that you wouldn't otherwise know. I connected it to a conscience. He clarified that it wasn't a voice, it was an electricity and it teaches you things more than right or wrong. It tells stories like in books and it makes the eyes see special things. Sometimes you can see this happening when you look into a person's ears he says.

Proof that people will eat anything if you cover it with chocolate.

Turner decides we need to make rice crispy treats. I think this was Wednesday. I was less than excited about making something sticky and gooey, but I dig around in the cabinets and find a few stale (and I mean super stale) marshmallows. I ask Turner to pour these into the pot. I add butter. He stirs. I give him the cereal to add. He does. I mix them up and put them in a little bowl. He presses them out. They were so stale, and he was so proud of them.
The next afternoon he tells me he wants to make corn cookies. I am completely unsure where the thought of corn and cookie came together, but Turner had put some thought into it.
"Those sound interesting. What kinds of things would be in a corn cookie?"
"Well," he says matter of fact like, "corn."
"Okay. Do you want me to write this down? So we can remember and make them later?" He agrees that we should. I write down the recipe. Here is what I scribed down:
"First add marshmallows. Second add ten pieces butter. Add bacon. Add ice chopped. Then add real corn."
Saturday we commence to corn cookie making.
He tells me the ingredients he wants and I fetch them from the fridge. While he adds ingredients together and stirs, I make snickerdoodles. I fill in some gaps in his recipe, telling him that my recipe calls for this so maybe he needs it too. I can only tell you the ingredients he used. He determined their ratio to one another.
Corn "the hard kind" which is frozen corn.
Sugar.
Cocoa.
An egg.
Baking Soda.
Flour.
"Four pieces of butter." Roughly 3 T. I talked him down from 10 because we didn't have enough butter.
Vanilla.






We bake these. I let them cook too long as we rushed around getting ready for the pool. Crunchy though, according to a mom at the pool, made them more tolerable. I ate the necessary one. Just one. It was okay because there was lots of butter and sugar and cocoa. Turner described them to Andy this morning as cookies "with corn. It goes from hard corn to gooey corn." And, well, the corn is very gooey. So we take these cookies to the pool. Noland's family is there. Noland eats one with his fingers over his nose "not wanting to hurt Turner's feelings." It was endearing. Kirsten, Noland's older sister, ate two. She thought they were really good. Turner had three or four yesterday (I mean, it contains a vegetable). Last night for dessert, though, he opted for a warm snickerdoodle.

It's all in the crust.

I am uploading blogs and photos at the same time. That said, the next one is about cooking too. Really, Turner and I do hang out in places beyond the kitchen.

Two weeks ago the market had strawberries for $1.00. They were amazing. Turner and I even found one package that had dirt in it. This, we discussed, meant they must be the freshest ones. Turner is a master at picking out produce. He asks why we need two packages. I want to make a strawberry pie. Oh, he says, I would love some strawberry pie.
Turner does not like strawberries. He eats strawberry ice cream, and he loves those little strawberry candies that are gooey in the middle, but he has never even tried a real strawberry. I explain to him what is in the pie. He says, I know. I just like to eat the crust.
Turner is so helpful in the kitchen. One of his chores is to "help" me make dinner, which I figured would mean I was cooking and he was eating snacks. But, the day we came home to make the pie crust I saw again how resourceful he can be. I charged him with getting ingredients out of the refrigerator. Then he broke up the shortening in the flour. Our pie was done so quickly it seemed.
We made pizza that night for dinner. Turner took care of the dough while I made the sauce. Our pizza was in the oven in ten minutes.

Monsoons . . .

Monsoons will be coming through Tucson in a few weeks. It is a large amount of water dropped in the middle of the desert where there is not drainage system. So, the streets turn to rivers and kids go boating. The monsoons bring some respite from the summer heat, which is awesome. We got a little rain in mid-May, but there probably won't be another drop for three weeks. Then the monsoons will begin, which dump water in small ares of the city. The flooding disrupts everyone's schedule, and usually reminds me to slow down a bit.