Batten down the hatches!

I'm in big trouble ...

It has recently come to my attention that my boys read my blog.  Who knew?!  It was also brought to my attention, that I mentioned every other child's birthday this year ... except for my baby.

That's right.  On July 9th, my baby turned 14! 

You know what that makes me? 

Yep, super old.

I remember his day of birth all too well.  I was 6 hours into some pretty intense labor, and I hadn't asked for an epidural yet.   My Grandpa McKinnon was there with me and Gary, and he was rubbing my back as I sat on a big bouncy ball at the foot of my bed.  Best Grandpa in the whole darn world.  I was feeling braver than I had the first four times and I was proud of my pain tolerance.  Shortly after this sensation of pride, I was whisked away, prepped for surgery, and experienced my one and only C-section.  Garrison was trying to come out butt first ... it wasn't working.  I have a picture of the doctor grabbing his two little feet out of my stomach.  If you'd like to see it, raise your hand.  Gary had no problem watching and taking pictures of the devastation of my tummy.   

Anyway, the rest is now 14 years of history.  I was in love with this little guy and his amazing head of hair the moment I laid eyes on him.  The red hair runs deep in my family, and belongs to some pretty special people ... Garrison included.   I was so happy to finish off our little family with this freckle faced kid. 

It's not that I forgot his birthday, oh no.  I just haven't been much into blogging lately.  Making music videos?  Yes.  But blogging?  Eh.  We had a splendid time as a family at Jump Street.  In theory, this place is as fantastic as it gets ... if you're a kid with a healthy bladder.  It's wall-to-wall trampolines that line the walls and the floor.  You can hop, hop, hop and twirl all night long ... if you have a healthy bladder.

I hop, hop, hopped for about 2 1/2 minutes and then had to make a quick exit off of the trampoline and into the ladies room to air dry.

Like I said.  I'm super old.  

My baby is growing up.

And I wouldn't trade any of this for nothin'.

Happy birthday little G!

My happy place ~

Toro Camp was calling me ... and I just couldn't stay away.  I was able to go watch Keaton shed his blood, sweat and tears more sweat every year for four years.  I was able to watch him form bonds of friendship that still carry on and support each other, even as they are spread out onto different continents.

 

There is something about football camp that completely fills my whole soul.  There is something about watching your offspring push themselves (even when they're the smallest little guy on the team) toward seeing how far their healthy bodies will allow them to go, and then being able to watch them as they see their own accomplishments and are a bit astonished at the goals that are met.

There is something about watching them respond to a staff of coaches who can demand much more than their mothers ever could.

There is something about the crisp air that we get to escape to, and those summer evenings that even require us to wrap up in quilts as we watch our boys on the field under the bold, bright lights.  It's my happy place ... and I've never seen Garrison happier as he followed in Keaton's footsteps.

Until the very last night ... when he broke his wrist.

Dang football.  Why do we love you so? 

Happy Birthday week Keaton!

Since my last video debut,

the family has decided that we could put music to this stuff and call it MTV!  

Well, we did play some music, 

but all it did was remind me that I'm a super white girl who has no rhythm.  

Good grief!

Hi Keaton!

Kacey and I were feeling super silly tonight.  And we've been working on getting videos together for Keaton.  Well, we thought that maybe ... just maybe ... you'd like to take a gander.  

Oh, ooops.  That was a still shot.  Let's try again!

AAAAAND ... ACTION!

AAAAAAND ... a little more. 

Feel free to move along and do something more worthwhile. 

I promise we will not be offended!

CUT!

What in the blazes is going on in Arizona?

This summer has been a doozie for forest fires in our area.  Over 800 square miles charred in the Wallow Fire alone.  Luckily this year hasn't evacuated my parents ... yet!

Last week, a power transformer exploded and left us without any power for a few hours ... yep ... it was about 114 degrees that day.  Of course Garrison and his friends found a ride so that they could look up close and personal at that power plant disaster.  Luckily, my husband is part Macgyver and he just pulled some wires out of somewhere and cut them up and attached them somehow to something, and put a plug on something else, and hooked that something up to the house, and turned something on .... and we were one of the few in town with power for awhile.  My hero. 

But yesterday, yesterday is the one that will stay with me.  Because yesterday, a haboob hit my hometown.  Yep.  Little ole' Mesa had a haboob.  Now a haboob is a really big deal.  Just look at this video!

The Phoenix Haboob of July 5th, 2011 from Mike Olbinski on Vimeo.

But let's face it.  It's not the dust that we're all thinking about.  It's not even that eerie looking monstrosity of a cloud.  It's the name.  Seriously?  Haboob?  Who named this big ball of dust anyway?  Well if you didn't already know ... it's actually Arabic.

According to Wikipedia:  

A haboob (Arabic هبوب) is a type of intense sandstorm commonly observed in arid regions throughout the world. They have been observed in the Sahara desert (typically Sudan), as well as across the Arabian Peninsula, throughout Kuwait, and in the most arid regions of Iraq.^[1] African haboobs result from the northward summer shift of the inter-tropical front into North Africa, bringing moisture from the Gulf of Guinea. Haboob winds in the Arabian Peninsula, Iraq and Kuwait are frequently created by the collapse of a thunderstorm. The arid and semiarid regions of North America – in fact any dryland region – may experience haboobs. In the USA, they are frequently observed in the deserts of Arizona, including Yuma and Phoenix^[2][3], as well as New Mexico and Texas ^[4]. During thunderstorm formation, winds move in a direction opposite to the storm's travel, and they will move from all directions into the thunderstorm. When the storm collapses and begins to release precipitation, wind directions reverse, gusting outward from the storm and generally gusting the strongest in the direction of the storm's travel.^[5][6][7]

When this downdraft, or "downburst", reaches the ground, dry, loose sand from the desert settings is essentially blown up, creating a wall of sediment preceding the storm cloud. This wall of sand can be up to 100 km (60 miles) wide and several kilometers in elevation. At their strongest, haboob winds can travel at 35-50 km/h (20-30 mph), and they may approach with little to no warning. Often rain is not seen at the ground level as it evaporates in the hot, dry air (a phenomenon known as virga), though on occasion when the rain does persist, the precipitation can contain a considerable quantity of dust (severe cases called "mud storms"). Eye and respiratory system protection are advisable for anyone who must be outside during a haboob -- moving to a place of shelter is highly desirable during a strong event.

Across North Africa and the Near East, there are many regional names for this unique sandstorm. The word haboob comes from the Arabic word هبوب "strong wind or 'phenomenon'."

All this being said ... it still cracks me up.  I'm way too immature for such weather terminology.  And I think that the weathermen saying the word got me going even more!  Standing there in their suit coats acting all serious like about the big haboob that was headed our way.  I've been giggling all day long just thinking of the word.  I even questioned it really being a word! 

Haboob. 

Thanks for stopping by and giving me a chuckle as I look at the mess you left behind.

You big haboob.