We're still trying to visit Disneyland every year: Leo remains a huge fan, and making him happy usually means universal family happiness. And also because, given the current administration's dog-in-the-manger attempts to make everyone who is not a lock-step loyalist miserable, choosing to do things that make us happy is a form of resistance.
[image: J, a white tween girl,
sitting and reading at a table
outside in Tomorrowland.]
And we were happy at Disneyland, mostly. Our family dynamics are getting increasingly complicated: Leo and Mali are teens with their own interests and agendas, so they don't always want to spend time with each other—nor are they shy about making their sibling disinterest clear. (To be fair, this is exactly how I felt about my older brothers when I was twelve, and probably how they felt about me, too.) Next trip, ensuring that we actually are in The Happiest Place on Earth will mean bringing a companion for the youngest and/or another adult who enjoys hanging with my kids—ideally, my spouse. Though thankfully our youngest is now old enough that if she declines to go on Leo-preferred rides, I can plant her on a shady bench with a e-book and her phone, take Leo on the ride, and everybody wins.
More things that made us happy: We got to have dinner with beloved friends on our first night, complete with many not-quite-negronis for the adults, and nerdy balloon sword fights for the kids. One of the adults, a children's book author, told us an amusing story about dedicating one of her books to Mali: Her co-author brother was actually *in* Mali, giving a presentation, and all the kids in the audience were so thrilled that the book was dedicated to their country! The brother had to explain that in this case only, Mali was a little girl.
Sidebar: Now Mali is a much bigger girl. And is insisting on going by her middle name, sob (I have wanted to have a girl named Mali since I was Mali's age). So, alas but with respect: from now on, Mali will be J. in these pages.
About to go on "Nemo"
[image: Selfie of Leo and me. I have
on a Disneyland "Vaccinated" pin.]
Back to Disneyland: I proudly wore my Disneyland "Vaccinated pin," which you can sort of see in the photo to the left. Many thanks to my friend Matt for the gift! Or, I did wear it until Leo had me take it off. Park staff who noticed the pin smirked and thought it was great.
The root of Disneyland happiness is that it has become a place of soothing predictability and routine, where we can mostly relax because we know what we want to do, and how to do it. It is also nerd-friendly: A welcoming place for people who like to cite movie lines, as we did all day both days by paraphrasing Finding Dory, "I like Leo. Leo is squishy; "I like benches. Benches are squishy." It is also totally fine to sing Disney songs out loud—like the entire Moana Soundtrack. (We only saw an official Moana cast member once, which was disappointing.)
Strangely, even though we visited on a non-Summer, non-Holiday, non-Spring Break weekday, the park was still fairly crowded, at least for our peripheral space needs. And it was mostly full of little kids, teeming with tiny Elsas and Elenas of Avalor, and holy hell so many strollers parked everywhere, narrowing all walkways and often making it hard to get by.
Possibly this disproportionate use of space by loud tiny people and their gear even though the park was technically not busy according to the Disneyland Crowd Tracker was why we didn't see many people like Leo. I mean, I saw lots of kids in the lines at the disability access pass kiosks, and several adult friends wearing headphones, but no one as ... exuberant as my son.
Is it because the park is such a sensory assault zone? It can be really, really overwhelming. Leo is learning to self-regulate while visiting, usually with a sit-on-the-bench request. But I do know many families who just don't go to Disney parks, because they know that their kid would lose it amidst the noise and chaos and crowds (I have heard this about autistic kids of all support levels, mind you), or because the parents themselves share some of their kids' sensory sensitivities and, just, no. No.
Ladybugs Ride!
[image: Leo sitting in a red car in the spinning Ladybug Ride.]
There are some rides that Leo will not ride, due to sensory issues, like the too-jerky-for-his-taste loop-de-loop rollercoaster. Which is why I was surprised at how upset he was over the unavailability of an ride that throws its riders around even harder, the Tower of Terror. It has been closed, and is being converted into a Guardians of the Galaxy ride. We confirmed the ToT's unavailability with at least four walk-bys and constant reassurances that Yes, it is Closed. Still. (It had better be fricking awesome when it reopens, transformed.) Thank goodness the "Sully and Mike ride" and the "Ladybugs ride" were both still open, fulfilling our dude's happiness quotient for that area of the park.
Keeping the happiness alive also meant sincere dedication to going with the flow. Leo wanted many rides on the "Nemo" submarine and Star Tours rides, and we followed suit (not exactly a hardship). And after years of encouraging Leo to try to play the shoot-em-up games during the "Toy Story" ride, I've stopped prodding him. He's really not interested. It doesn't matter if it's a fine motor skill or inclination issue: He enjoys the ride, doesn't care about participating, and that is that.
We also were able to verify the rides he doesn't like or finds dull, and which we can cross off our list for now: Indiana Jones (the line is a nightmare for him, even with the disability pass), and the Jungle Cruise. I have to admit, I agree with him. Meh to both.
Tiki Room!
[image: Photo of Leo smiling
in Disney's Tiki Room.]
And then ... Leo discovered that the Tiki Room is a real place at Disneyland, and not just a song he listens to every day. Watching the pure joy of his epiphany was very sweet to witness.
However, the Tiki Room was also an example of the park's jaw-dropping cultural disconnections. How is it that, in 2017, the shlocky camp of the Tiki Room not only still exists, but exemplifies the icky disrespect to Polynesian culture that the careful, deferential creators of Disney's Moana tried so hard to avoid? How is it that, in this era of podcasts like the Stories-from-Hawaii Offshore, race/culture-exploders like CodeSwitch, and the unapologetically arch indigenous criticism/geekery of Métis in Space, we still have It's a Small World's USA representatives as vaguely 19th century white cowboys and farmers, occasionally paired with smiling Native Americans? How is The Jungle Cruise still featured wide-eyed "locals" getting their butts poked by rhinos, African "natives" dancing in bushes, and "head hunters"—with wares? How on earth do Splash Mountain's critter scenes, based on the no-longer-available-for-good-reason movie Song of the South, even exist? Choosing happiness doesn't exclude discussions with the kids about cultural insensitivity, and probably never will.
Star Tours! Star Tours!
[image: Leo wearing 3D
glasses on Star Tours ride]
The park employees ("cast members") had their own part in keeping our happiness going: they were so kind, and so many of them greeted Leo's expressed enthusiasms with big sincere "hello"s. When I was visibly having a tough time, an ice cream kiosk dude yelled from across Main Street to ask if I was OK, then gave me the information I needed. We had a long and pleasant conversation with the disability pass kiosk worker, about when was best time to use the pass and on which rides (morning is the worst, mid-day/mid-afternoon best)—and then, noticing that we were ending our ability to hold it together, gave us a pass to enter the last ride Leo wanted to go on immediately, which I guess they have discretion to do under urgent circumstances such as people really needing to leave the park early but also were unable to leave the park until they go on a certain ride. (The most delightful cast member by far, however, was the guy messing with the park's stringent dress/grooming code by wearing a wig with Princess Leia buns.)
And personally, I love staying at the on-site hotel, and being able to retreat as needed—despite the guilt associated with such indulgence. I adored the ease of being able to walk back into the hotel directly from California Adventure, when the kids needed a break. I appreciated getting that early "Magic Hour" of extra-low attendance park access. And I was grateful for the super-chill, cozy, kid-friendly bar/restaurant (with legitimate, and reasonably-priced, negronis) in the lobby. For some reason the hotel rooms no longer come with eponymous stationery or robe, which is too bad as I like to write letters and J. likes to lounge in the robes, but maybe that's just policy now.
It was a happy time, this latest trip to Disneyland. I learned a lot about how to make it even happier, next time.
Our Three Mouseketeers
[image: Selfie of happy Leo, me, and goofy J.]
Can a family like ours roadtrip from San Francisco to Portland and back again in 60 hours? Of course. But should we drive 1400 miles in under three days? Under the right circumstances -- and for the right people -- absolutely.
Traveling as a family hasn't always been reasonable for us. We had a long stretch in which Leo didn't do more than the occasional day trip, so unimpressed was he with the demands of going off-routine. But he's grown, he's matured, and he's now become the most patient and intrepid traveler of our group, enjoying the adventure of seeing new scenery roll by.
And SF to PDX, that is a scenic drive. Especially on Labor Day Weekend, with some of the best weather we've seen all year. And especially if you take the Redwoods route along 101. Because then you can drive through trees!
The drive-through tree at Myer's Flat may look shredded, but I assure you it is very much alive.
This is what the inside of the tree looked like through our sunroof. You can see some of its greenery out the top.
And this is what the drive-through tree looked like through our window! You can't necessarily tell in the photo, but Leo is laughing his ass off at seeing the inside of a tree through the car window. I, on the other hand, am not laughing because the clearance on either side was less than 3 inches (finally, my background maneuvering big pickup trucks over tricky overgrown Oregon logging roads paid off!).
We enjoyed the various redwood structures, including playhouses built inside giant stumps.
But by far my favorite redwood activity is wandering among the giants themselves. The kids warmed our hearts with comments about being on the forest moon of Endor. And we saw two families much like ours who appreciated big open path-based spaces for wandering and wondering.
They're just so damn big! The giant below was nearly 400 feet tall when it fell in the '90s.
Most every part of California north of Healdsburg made us want to stop and get to know it better, more so as an acquaintance recently took his family-like-ours camping along the very same coast, and highly recommended it. We need to come back, spend a week or so -- or more -- out in the redwoods and the isolated coastal areas where a bit of happy whooping and the occasional yowl of NO from our boy won't bother other campers. But we had to get to Roseburg, OR by the first night's end. So, onward we drove. Though we did celebrate hitting the state border.
We went to Portland to celebrate a friend's milestone. And we knew they would be celebrating with a rambunctious, kid-filled party. So we asked around if anyone would want to come with us to help make sure Leo's needs were met. And guess who volunteered? My wonderful co-editor at TPGA, Kassiane. She and Leo (and the whole family) got on just ... so well. Makes me sniff tearfully, in thinking how rare and precious it is for us to hang with folks where everything (geekitude and autism) is instantly grokked. Do you know how many people will keep talking with Mali about her favorite imaginary precious metal/gem cupcakes and their variety of possible toppings after the first five minutes? Damn few.
I think Leo & Kassiane liked each other, too. (Thanks so much for being awesome, K.)
Our hosts, some of our very most favorite people on the whole planet, threw a hell of a party. It aches to think how rarely we get to see them, how much we love them -- that is why the trip needed to happen. And their house was so amazing to me -- it's such an adult's house. Everything tidy, maintained, and lovingly geekified (they're both scientists). Their kid's room overflowing with Lego, books, and specimens (he's his parents' child), but ordered. Everything so distanced from Martha Stewart (bah) but so close to my mind's eye's 'real' house. Good to have goals, good to see people living the domestic dream. (I have been pulling the slo-mo version of the Augean stables on our house ever since.)
The kids wanted to stay forever, in that house of bunnies and turtles and bonsai trees and jumpy pool slides and a tree swing. I did too. Unfortunately Leo fell off the swing and scraped the side of his face. Since it's hard for him to leave scabs alone, it's still healing. But we've found he picks it less if we stop telling him not to pick at it, poor guy. And I am once again grateful that Leo is a healthy, not-terribly-accident-prone kid, because I don't like thinking about the decisions we'd encounter should he be unable to comply with treatment and recovery from a serious injury or illness.
We turned around and headed back south right after the party, so we wouldn't have to do PDX -> SF in a single day. We stayed in Eugene, which always seems such a pleasant place to me. Our hotel was right alongside the Willamette's inland delta, which would normally have us all out birding -- but alas, our breakneck schedule. NEXT TIME.
Leo is a fan of hotels, too. And newly invested in piloting roller bags, which is A-OK with me. One of his former OTs remarked on Facebook that this is a good way to provide proprioceptive input, so hey.
The schedule stomped the kids pretty hard, good sports though they were.
We took the (mostly boring) I-5 route back, for expediency purposes. It was good to say hi to Mt. Shasta up close after so many years, and we chuckled at Ashland -- such a doppleganger for Sebastopol (but all we had to do to find a good coffee & sandwich shop was to stop randomly along the main drag, so, not complaining).
When things got truly flat and dull south of Redding, Iz livened matters up by defying orders and letting Mali have her first dose of caffeine. Sigh. Thankfully our youngest put her energy into READING REALLY FAST instead of activities requiring social reciprocity, as we were all well and truly burnt by then.
Does this mean our trip was easy? No. This was an exhilarating but exhausting blue moon-worthy excursion (note blue moon on the eve of our trip). My husband is a saint for coming along -- he does not share my fondness for road trips of intensest intensity, but he couldn't pass up the chance to see our friends, or the Northern California redwood & coastal scenery.
We also had the complication that Leo is currently In a Mood regarding his little sister, and cannot sit next to her in the car. So Leo got the shotgun seat, while the non-driving parent sat in the back. With this accommodation, and as long as we were mindful to keep the two kids non-adjacent at all times, things went smoothly.
Would I do it again, given the wonderful scenery and friends (and family)? Oh yes. Gratefully.
I can't believe it's been a month since Mali & I laid waste to the Big Apple. And I really can't believe so much of Manhattan has turned into a shiny happy kid-friendly place since Seymour's and my early '90s Empire State residence. Where was all the urban shitty-gritty I'd planned on using to terrify my offspring into suburbanite complacency, I ask you? Look at our girl -- she's not recoiling in coddled horror; she's frolicking! With abandon! In Central Park! Which she chose over the giant piano and toy extravaganza of FAO Schwartz!
Mali now considers Manhattan an alternate universe wonderland. She's certainly never randomly happened upon a flea market featuring the perfect unicorn in California, or even in San Francisco. And any hopes I had about Manhattanites teaching our cheeky girl a social lesson or two were quickly dashed -- New Amsterdam's residents didn't just recognize their own moxie in our girl, they encouraged it. Lord.
San Francisco may have its share of playgrounds fabulous and new, but they don't hum and vibrate quite like the packed-to-the-gills play place in Union Square. Mali got as much peer play time as she could handle. Though I must say the parents I observed generally had bigger helicopters up their butts than West Coasters -- lighten up, folks. I realize some kids do require a personal playground coordinator (e.g., Mali's older brother), but not every single one!
I was also pleasantly surprised by the amount of that frolicking we fit in for so little dosh. There is so much free fun in Manhattan! Everywhere we wandered, up popped a street fair or flea market or another fabulous playground or the High Line (pictured) or the Staten Island Ferry or a dog show and festival or rocks to climb or fascinating shop windows to look in. It's also a good place to eat on the cheap -- we were quite content with bagel breakfasts, and slices for other meals. (Getting to and staying in NYC is of course not cheap at all -- but we stayed with friends and flew for free thanks to last summer's cancelled BlogHer NYC flight.)
Here are other things we liked:
Guerilla gardening with our friend Luis. Both times we helped him water and tend his gorgeous mid-boulevard garden strips (note cars around Mali -- they're waiting for a stoplight, not parked), neighborhood folks fell over themselves, wanting to thank him for beautifying their world. I think his would make a fantastic story for a local news magazine or TV show -- it embodies the fresh, new, but still scrappy Manhattan we got to know.
If you were given the opportunity to take your Eloise-like, Eloise-loving six year old to tea at The Plaza, I rawther think you would, yes? We loved loved loved The Plaza -- especially as we got to share that tea with our aforementioned beloved Luis and our also much-loved Carol.
Here is what is also free and fun: The Staten Island Ferry. Where you get really great views of the Statue of Liberty without having to actually go visit her or stand in line for more than ten minutes!
There was of course also the iPad Workshop I gave at the SoHo Gallery for Digital Art (which put TPGA and other iPad/autism pix on display for the event), and that workshop was a success. The participants were a good balance of parents, professionals, educators, and adults with autism, and I came away feeling like I'd both shared information with folks who could use it, and learned a lot myself -- an ideal mix. (Plus I got to meet Beth Arky and have a slice with her, so, more excellence.)
It's hard to capture everything we did in those action-packed three days -- meeting all of AMNH's dinosaurs and most of Manhattan's dogs, for instance -- but there's a big ol' Flickr photo set, if you're up for more serious fun. What really struck me is how family-friendly Manhattan is. That's not an adjective I ever imagined pairing with New York City's hub. I'd like to bring my family back. I'd like to bring Leo back. I'm sold. I get it.
We could approach spring break casually, I suppose, but we don't know how. Leo is happiest when he's busy, so we don't chill -- we schedule. Or, as some concerned friends and perhaps husbands have pointed out, overschedule. But the kids and I had so much fun during their two tandem weeks sans school! Look:
We kicked our week off with a favorite, Butano State Park near Pescadero. The redwoods, coolness, and quiet act like a giant body sock on me and our kids. This is the hike we take new friends on, so they can see our kids at their best. When I am frazzled, I want to see our kids at their best, too. And so we went. Leo always enjoys hiking at Butano.
Mali always knows how to put herself together for the trail -- straightened hair courtesy of big sister Iz, and an animal-print tutu. She was delighted to discover so many blooming trilliums, and introduced herself to nearly a score of banana slugs:
(Banana slug video courtesy of Seymour and team. If you want some good randy banana slug backstory, take the man out for a beer. He's got material.)
On another day, our friend Laura Shumaker came for a neighborhood hike with me & Leo, which was too fun -- Laura knows everyone, and always shares the best stories about raising her not-at-all-like-Leo-but-still-autistic son Matthew, who's now a young adult. And Leo adored Laura, as you can see by the hand-holding. A warning, though -- Laura likes to pounce on the lunch check. Next time, I won't have Leo with me, so she should ready herself for a preemptive check strike.
Leo and I always plan a Sebastopol day when we have a good stretch of free time -- the area has endless hiking, fun, & funkiness opportunities. We're fans particularly of People's Music on Main Street, which has nearly any instrument you could imagine, and where the generous staff lets Leo explore them however he likes -- which is how I now know that the steel drum I'd long considered getting him would have been met with meh.
We also make a point of hitting Screaming Mimi's conjured on site and sold by weight ice cream, especially if we can meet up with smart Twitter friends whom I will not out, while we're nomming.
Sebastopol also has playgrounds designed by people who understand that kids crave varied gross motor/weight bearing activity. We hadn't visited the relatively new Ragle Ranch Playground before, so that made it doubly-motivating for Leo. But what I really enjoyed was watching him cross this webbed rope bridge repeatedly, until he could do so without losing his footing. Love watching our boy persevere.
The trails at Ragle Ranch itself were rather mucky with mud, but it was still a lovely day and we banked at least a mile. So not entirely a wash. Leo thought the gloompy mud and the sound it made when he extracted his foot were delightful; I have not yet washed those shoes. *shudder*
We also always hit Harmony Farm Supplies, since they really do have the region's best plant, seed, bulb, & gear selection. But more interesting than their Himalayan strawberry and broccoli starters was this flyer on their community billboard! A goat source! Just wait, one day I will have my own herd of tiny aponkyes (Twi for goat), you'll see. Not kidding. Enrolling Mali in 4H, come Fall.
There are so many places to hike in our area, it's almost embarrassing. We can walk out our back door to one set of trails, and two more regional parks are within homemade catapult distance. And if we're willing to drive or bike a couple of miles, then the possibilities near innumerable. Arastradero is one such place - a lovely, earnest park where the nature center features straw bale construction, native plant restoration is active and ongoing, the toilets are clean and plentiful with paper towels intentionally amiss, and the hiking is mellow. We like it.
Mali complained a bit during our two-miler, but she can't really be blamed. Neither Leo nor I are dawdlers, and her legs are short. She did have fun, this is evidence.
We have to keep up our energy somehow during all that hiking. Thankfully a local place started making spectacular cupcakes, so good my kids' squeals of excitement spiral into wavelengths only bats and dogs can hear, and I was willing to risk Iz's godfather's displeasure. Leo gives them his seal of approval.
Oh, and hey! Our new iPad 2 arrived. We were busy folk and kept missing the FedEx truck, and had to go pick it up at local HQ, where the girls had no problem telling the employees that Leo was not just any iPad 2 owner, in their opinion. Posts on cases, new apps, raffling off Leo's original iPad, and apps in the classroom coming soon. As in this week.
Seymour and I had exactly one night off together during the two weeks of madness. We used it to celebrate the 20 years since our first date on April 12, 1991 under Sr. Procopio's watchful eye. We had a lovely dinner eventually, though Seymour's arrival was delayed 90 minutes by a really unfortunate CalTrain accident. Can't really complain about that.
Leo decided that the best way to start off week two of spring break -- the week his sisters, not he, was out, was by jumping on Iz and torturing her awake. She was not pleased. (Note stack of heavy books over Iz's head. This girl has been warned, but has obviously not yet experienced an earthquake.)
Happy Leo! But not-much-for-sleeping Leo, unfortunately. I'm not sure if it was because of meds changes (more on that soon, most likely with a request for advice) or just growing and changing, but he's had a shitty sleep pattern lately, not going to bed until 11 PM some nights, waking up as early as 3 AM others, remaining as happy as you see him here.
The second week also brought my brother Chet and his Mali-energetic son P. to stay. For a whole week! Chet always has a lot of information to share, for instance Oman has great beaches, did you know? Though I did break out the tiny violin when he complained that he'd only been skiing twice this winter, as that gripe included indoor skiing in Dubai. But he taught the girls how to eat kiwifruit with a spoon, and he gave us an excuse to eat Mexican food almost every day (it's not nearly so good in his part of the country, he says). And he's straight-up good company.
Also, Mali & Iz have completely converted P. to the ways of Akiko and Babymouse, so their trip was a success on the literature front as well.
Of course we went to the Pebble Beach at Año Nuevo State Park. It's what we do! It's the most remarkable beach in the area, as long as you don't equate "beach" with "sun" or "swimming."
And who doesn't like to find a good Turkish towel? Sometimes I dream of what this beach might look like, what shells and creatures and discoveries would litter it, were beachcombers barred from removing their finds.
Until we get that herd of goats, we have to clear our hillside by paying lots of money to humans. Which we did last week. One benefit: We can get to our see-saw! Since our pool is not warm enough for Leo to swim, he now asks us to go see-sawing every hour on the hour. Which is understandable, given how happy it makes him (here with his uncle).
We've become official CalAcademy devotees. Which means we can now drag guests along at a moment's notice! I'm looking forward to the opportunity to explore more nooks and crannies, but the kids (and my brother) enjoyed even our quick five-hour visit.
Then, of course, we took Chet and P. rock climbing at Castle Rock state park. It always feels weird, going without Leo since he loves bouldering so much, but the kids' enthusiasm made up for my guilt. And the day was so so beautiful, and the park practically empty of other hikers/climbers.
We went straight from climbing to picking up Leo, so his cousin could see his school -- and were greeted with a sick boy who'd gone through four changes of clothing -- all of which were handed to us in plastic bags. At the time, I thought Leo had food poisoning, so we took him home and washed him off and let him rest. He went from green (literally) to pink and healthy by the time he went to sleep, so we thought he was fine.
So I didn't worry much as Jennyalice & I drove up to San Francisco and hung out with some of our favorite people -- all of whom we know through blogging, btw -- and celebrated a birthday. We know cool folks, is all I can say -- and, also, now I know what the cool lofts by Seymour's work look like inside!
My brother had never experienced anything like Dynamo Donuts, so the next day we indoctrinated him. He approved. I have to say, the proprietors are extremely kind with chatty, possibly overenthusiastic six-year-old girls.
We also took Uncle Chet & his boy to Franklin Square playground. Merry-go-round FTW! Though Mali got spun off once, and she was not pleased.
We then took our vistors to the Cartoon Art Museum, where we met up with friends who share Chet's love of all things Looney Toons, and exercised extreme self-control in emerging from the gift shop with only a single Amelia Rules! volume.
We had plans to way laste to more of the city, but unfortunately Leo's school called with the news that our boy was sick again. Nothing quite like having to make a 50-mile dash. Leo was actually in good spirits rather than ashen this time, but we took him home and decided that he would stay home the next as well -- his first-ever sick day at his new school.
Which meant Leo got to come watch Iz and P. go indoor skydiving! Poor Leo, he really wanted to skydive too. But participants have to be extremely good at following directions in a sensory-overload environment while wearing ear plugs -- wasn't going to happen. Iz's paratrooping uncle said she was a natural, though (while noting that parachuting and skydiving are different skill sets). Iz then used her newfound aerodynamics knowledge to pooh-pooh Margot Kidder's flying sequence with Christopher Reeve in Superman, which I made her watch that night after she asked "Who is Christopher Reeve?"
After the Superman showing, almost everyone in the house became sick. (Causation! Superman causes stomach flu!) I ceded our room to Seymour and went to sleep with Mali, who didn't appear too bad off but who woke me at 2 AM with a vomit shower. Our guests had planned to leave that morning anyhow; I'm guessing they'd have found an excuse regardless. And I'm worried we seeded the entire Bay Area with the dreaded ick. Good thing I'd already written my Easters With Elvis BlogHer post! And Iz is still home sick today.
I won't deny that these two weeks laid me low by the time they were over. But I like to think the exhaustion has to do with the stomach flu's five-day Rosenberg campaign (I alone have not puked as of this writing) coupled with several of Leo's respite sessions getting canceled. I wouldn't change the rest. I love my family, I love our friends, I love where we live -- I can only feel grateful for getting two weeks to embrace them all so fully.
and 
, so their trip was a success on the literature front as well.
volume. 