Friday Morning at Mom and Dad's (and Mimi's)

I found myself checking out some "Wordless Wednesday" links before starting this post, and this is what I learned:

• The "wordless" part doesn't have to be taken literally. At all.
• WW is good for people who don't have Flickr streams.
• WW is really good for people who want to showcase one outstanding photo that can convey a range of emotions to even the most dense observer.
• WW is a little pointless for people who will be making "wordful" points later on that same Wednesday.
• WW is quite pointless for people who regularly, on non-Wednesdays, make photo-heavy posts.

So, I am not playing Wordless Wednesday, because I am really bad at it.

The last day of school was a staff day on Thursday. We flew out that evening, somewhat delayed by thunderstorms, but still in daylight for half of the trip. (We flew over Meteor Crater, so cross that one of Mike's summer To Do list.) The t-storms were exciting to watch, and of course my pocket camera was able to capture the zipper-like lightning and domes of illumination with cinematic ease.

No, not really, not at all. However, I spliced together the "highlights" of what it did pick up and created a six-second montage for your enjoyment:

Dad and Mom met us at the airport in characteristic fashion. (Dad sneaked up behind us in baggage claim, grabbed us under the arms, and snapped, "You're under arrest!" Ow. Good one.) Dad made us breakfast and we stayed up late before retiring to our meat locker. (Mimi really loves the AC, and the AC really loves our bedroom.)

The next morning, I took photos out in the backyard. (I think Dad was making us another breakfast? Oh, how I miss having other people feed me.) Anyway, here is where this post will get a bit wordless.

I almost didn't post the photo above. Just because this is where Euphrosyne is buried doesn't mean it has to be a cliche of stark black-and-white. But, the original photo was washed out and boring. So, let's say that the BW is to emphasize the simplicity of the place.

I didn't even notice the fly when I took this photo. Doesn't this flower look fake? Are Mom and Dad keeping silk flowers in pots of dirt? I need to investigate this.

Mom was hamming it up for the camera with goofy looks and walks. There are moments like this, and I'm, like, damn. Where is the drug that can hold that moment? It's there - it's there! - why does it have to slip away?

Dad said that Mom's doctor said that they have at least two drugs that will cure Alzheimer's. Flat-out cure it. I forget the problem with one of them, but the other one's problem is that there is a 10% chance it will cause a nasty and fatal disease of the spine. Also, it has to be taken before the last stage of Alzheimer's begins.

What we heard is, "There is a drug with a 90% chance of curing Alzheimer's." (I don't know if it arrests things where they are or actually reverses some of the damage. I assume the former.) What we thought was, "There's a 100% chance you will die if you have Alzheimer's. There is a 90% chance you will live if you take this drug in time, and your quality of life may be decent."

I wish that you could sign a waiver promising not to sue if you're in the 10%. For now, she races time.

I think the one above could be edited into a rather compelling PowerPoint template, no?

As I've mentioned before, all of Mom and Dad's cats have been raised to be skittish of strangers. I've never seen the like. Spot has plenty of curiosity, but she keeps it well-managed. (Unless you throw a lizard into the mix.)

Summer resolutions:

• Use the dialie-thingie to take more control over the nine spots of autofocus because heaven knows I will never get around to relying on manual focus.
• Finally read that exposure book that everyone is always going on about.

I'm really glad I was raised by fun parents. They weren't always happy parents, but they were fun.

I've seen that pot in the foreground before. Wait, is it...

(Someday I'll have to rescan that one. It's from back in the days of film cameras, home developing, hand tinting, and, of course, Sylvia hiding in pots, waiting to leap.)

No one has used the pool slide for 20+ years. It is cracked, skinned, baked, and dangerous. It is my grandmother's favourite part of the pool, and it is my father's current nemesis.

Mike tried to threaten it, but we're both too scared of the thing to follow through.

Before we came, Dad stocked up on Dr Pepper in glass bottles, made with Imperial Cane Sugar. Mike lovingly drank each one.

Once in a great while I shoot pictures using the in-camera filters (as opposed to Photoshopping a filtered effect later). Here is Dad, in sepia, giving us one of his patented lectures. (He sits in front of the fireplace not for the "casual scholar" look seen below, but so he can send his cigarette smoke up the chimney.) The world needs for him to offer a weekly podcast, but on this trip we just practiced making pics and videos.