Here is Aunt Julie (Dave's sister) who competed in the triathlon. She normally doesn't wear strange blue hats. The school of fish. While the triathletes swim the duathletes run the first of the two running legs.
Here's the gang prior to the start of the endless slog, ahem, race. Joseph is hydrating in preparation for the morning.
The line up. Dave's bike (a Canadian Tire special that only looks like a road bike but operates like something far worse) is the one with the blue towel draped over the seat.
Here's the man completing the first leg of the race - a 2.2 km run. Easy Peasy.And here he is suiting up for the next leg - a 35 km bike ride.
And this is what the kiddoes do while the crazy people over-exert themselves in 30 degree weather.
Here he is dismounting and preparing to run over the time pad so that the time chip in his ankle band can be recorded. The athletes dismount quite violently, whipping their feet out of their bike shoes and running across the time pad. The first guy off the bike actually dismounted so quickly that he went head over heels and ended his entire race with a trip to the hospital.
Run, run. Notice he is not wearing spandex shorts. I vetoed the wearing of tight pants on race day. I almost missed this shot as Dave came in past the time at which I was expecting him. Apparently his Supercycle just didn't hold up to the $3000 bikes of his competitors. He said that he felt like a giant hand was pulling him from behind on downhills. My father, who raced bikes in his younger days, tried out the bike and remarked that it was amazing that Dave was able to ride in a straight line. Talk about a handicap.
However, Dave is a very natural runner and with very little training easily chugged out the last 8 km run. Our local and very droll naturopathic doctor even threw a whole cup of water on him.
Aunt Julie starting her run.
And here is Joe waiting nervously for the arrival of his father. I asked him to please finish the race alive as going back to work with four kids would be difficult.
Here comes Daddy. I had watched a few dads cross the line holding their children by the hand so I thought that Dave should do the same. Perhaps I should have told him about my plans. As a result Jacob ran out without fear to join his Daddy for the last few metres. However, Benjamin, lacking the carefree spirit of his brother, hesitated and missed the chance to cross the finish line avec Papa. This caused a huge meltdown and Ben fell to the ground in tears while sputtering, "Jacob, Daddy, run with...Jacob, Daddy, run with..." You get the picture. I then made my way to the finish line with Joe in one arm and Ben dragging behind in a pool of tears.
This is Dave glancing back at his wife and melting children.
My next best plan was to get Ben to cross the line with his Aunt Julie. However, Aunt Julie had no eyes for anything but the finish line and Ben seemed mildly confused as to who this woman was and certainly no intention of taking her hand. Nevertheless, Dave soon arrived with Gatorade and Ben's tears dried up rather quickly. Aunt Julie running away from her relatives.
And that's the end. We went home, Dave slept for an hour with two fans directed at his body and I fed hotdogs to the kids, our houseguests and myself. Hats off to the athletes and hats out for donations to the bike fund.
Just in case you didn't know, it is the Solemnity of St. Peter and St. Paul today. I didn't know until I uploaded these pictures to the computer and found the one below which had been taken by Jacob. He has a way of reminding me of important events. Solemnities denote the higher ranking feasts in the Church; essentially solemnities are to be celebrated as a Sunday: food, fun and rest - oh yeah, and try to make it to Mass. When I stayed at Madonna House for a summer solemnities were a Big Deal in a community where manual labour was pretty much non-stop. There was no denying a solemnity at Madonna House - there was always plenty of food, flowers, fun, family and REST (and wine on really special solemnities) . In the words of one young guest, "Yay Solemnity." In a complete aside, Hannah is writing in her address book and just asked me what Jesus' phone number is. I confessed my lack of 411 knowledge and she said, "Darn, I wanted to call Him." Perhaps the above gentlemen know the 10 digit code. Also, relating to Hannah, sometime during the past 2 weeks she has begun to acquire a Valley accent. Actually her accent is even more specific to our immediate locale. It is incredible and it seemed to arrive overnight. I remarked on her new intonations yesterday and she seemed quite chuffed to be speaking Valley. Jacob overheard and said, "I have one too." Other than the fact that he says mudder, fadder and brudder (mother, father and brother), Jacob's accent is not as strong as his sister's. However, he had to compete and spent the next while imitating everything his sister said in his best Valley speak. Perhaps we had better teach her some stronger Valley sayings to deal with her twin.
So, if you don't have a pool or even a kiddy pool - because it's still at the farm in the storage barn where your parents have left it since last summer - then use a bucket. Our kids do. It sort of promotes sharing... and I imagine interesting stories in years to come.
See, Joseph likes it.
And, if you really oppose sleeping in your own bed and have been sternly warned by your father that he better not find you sleeping on the floor THEN sleep in the playpen - why not?
And here is just one of the highlights of our weekend. This is our friend G covered in our children. He's sort of like flypaper to children under seven years of age. He's engaged to the beautiful young woman below, L. L is the daughter of a family who are friends of our family but more like family - if you know what I mean. G and L stayed with us over the weekend to attend a local wedding. I think that our kids are delighted by his upcoming addition to one of their favourite families. I just hope they don't jump on him at the wedding.
Beautiful, isn't she? G and L are a wonderful young couple. It was refreshing to be around them and to watch as their relationship continues to grow. They are both deeply devoted to their faith and to living out that faith. They remind me a lot of Dave and I when we were engaged and I am sure that they are starting out on a wonderful adventure.
It is exactly one hour and twelve minutes until the start of our town's annual triathlon/duathlon. Dave is competing in the duathlon and is presently down at the water's edge depositing his bike and setting up his gear. At some point we will make our way to the race and cheer on Daddy as he slogs his way through the competition. Lucky for him it is a cool morning. Because the race directly interferes with all mass times in our town we went to church last night at 5pm. 5pm mass is always a killer for little ones and I spent the Gospel on outside simultaneously watching Ben and Joseph, admiring the 3pm wedding party and listening for parts of the Mass. Somehow I fulfilled my Sunday obligation. The most eventful part of my self-excommunication was Ben's sudden need to pee. Knowing his propensity for peeing outdoors, we made our way to a tree and I allowed him to do his business. This was only the second time that Joseph had witnessed the event and he watched with amazement and, as I soon discovered, a great desire to be involved - he immediately rubbed his hands in the resulting puddle. No worries, I remembered the nearby Adoration Chapel and its accompanying washroom and sink. Anyway, gotta go as it is now one hour and seven minutes until race start. I'll post pictures later. The following pictures are from our first lake swim last week. Garbage Bag = Cast Protection
Depositing treasures in pocket.
Looking cute.
A deer fly just bit me on my left eyelid.
Warming up.
Observation post.
Always helpful.
Token picture of Mommy trying to look mildly athletic.
This picture is to let you know that it was the Community BBQ at Dave's school on Monday night. I and the children showed up 45 minutes in advance to watch Dave barbecue and to play in the abundant sand available in this part of the world. I mean Abundant Sand. The bathwater was brown after our night out. I always go to these affairs expecting to really enjoy myself. I don't know why I consistently forget about the logistics of feeding four kids in blazing sun, milling crowds and Abundant Sand. I grabbed our food and brought three of our kids inside to the shelter of Dave's classroom where we successfully wrote on the chalkboard, sent our uncooked burgers back to the grill, and spilled Sprite on the floor near the computer desk. Jacob was the one child missing. He was scarfing down hamburgers and starting a soccer game with the gr. 7/8 students. Prior to Monday night, all of the food in the above picture was under Joe's never-tried-before heading. If I had my way, they would shift to the never-try-again list.
One of the perks of having a daddy who 'owns' a classroom.
This is my, "What are my children doing?" look. (Alternate title: I love Community Barbecues.) I thought that I would throw in a few self-portraits as I sometimes search other blogs trying to figure out what the writer looks like.
And here's my, "Oh, they're just writing on the chalkboard and spilling Sprite" look. Alternate title: I really love Community Barbecues.
This is Dave who was pretty much in motion for the whole evening until he was allowed to find a hamburger, sit down and be handed the kids by his wife.
Dave's present principal is retiring so the Community BBQ doubled as a farewell to Mr. B. Dave's class sang "Sweet Home St. Casimir's" composed by me on the back of a sticker while driving on the Simpson's Pit Road on the way to dropping off Dave that morning. No worries, I was in the passenger seat. It went over well.
So well that all three of our boys somehow felt that they needed to stand next to Mr. B while he was feted. Joe was the first up and the other two quickly followed. Hannah's bottom stayed firmly rooted to the gym floor.
And here is the first test of the previously banned food. It was quickly abandoned to melt on the ground; but not so abandoned that he forgot to come back and pour it down his legs.
This is Ben who is completely confused by the fact that all of his cake is not in his stomach. We left soon after this photo and sped home to the bathtub. I was the first one in as I was desperate to wash my feet. Sand between my toes gives me the same sensation as nails on a chalkboard. Have I mentioned the abundance of sand yet...
Stay tuned for our next post: boy at beach with cast.
p.s. The BBQ ended with a boy named Jacob breaking his arm ... a different Jacob, whew.
I promised movies on Mondays but it's not always easy coming up with something. So, here are three of the children having fun in an A family way. Actually, twirling in a chair is, I imagine, a universal pastime and, I must confess, that I sometimes do the same. Sorry about the poor quality. Also, two newsworthy items:
1. Hannah finally learned to whistle. Yes, she has been trying for a while now. Unfortunately, the breakthrough came yesterday during Mass. I still congratulated her.
2. Yesterday, during naptime/quiet-time/Mommy-retreats-to-her-bedroom-time, three of the non-napping children arrived at the bedroom door in a flurry. Hannah was in tears. Words came flying at me and I tried to decipher what had caused them to rouse me from my almost-sleep state. Finally I heard the key sentence, "Benjamin has a bead in his ear." Great. Hannah's tears were caused by a deep-seated fear that a bead in the ear would quickly result in the death of her younger brother. Ben was very calm and kept saying in his Eeyore sort of way, "Yeah. Me. I have bead in my ear." I imagined a trip to the hospital, an x-ray revealing a little star-shaped bead emblazoned on Ben's brain, and I actually attempted to suck the bead from Ben's ear using my mouth. Dave, after realising that Ben had a bead and not a bee in his ear, kept a level head and sent for the tweezers. Why my first thought was suction instead of tweezing is beyond me but Daddy did the job and thus retained his super hero status on Father's Day. Ben now flinches when I approach the side of his head.
Well, here it is, an official Father's Day post. Father's Day is a strange sort of holiday for me as my own father worked away from home from May through September for the majority of my growing up years. Consequently, Father's Day was sort of sad and my only real memory of it is packing up an empty orange juice concentrate can/pencil holder and sending it off into the wilds of the Canadian North. These were the days before phone plans and the Internet; thus, I never knew if these gifts reached their destinations and I still wonder what became of my juicy pencil holder.
But now, there sit in my top drawer two Father's day gifts - one of the boy variety and one of the girl sort- both crafted at school under the guidance of the SK teacher and both eagerly awaiting Sunday morning. Hannah's is so impossibly bound by clear tape that I have no idea what is inside except that somewhere within all that stickiness there is a picture of Dave wearing Hannah strapped to his chest in a Snugli at the tender age of 3 months. I know this because I sent the photo in as a response to a teacher request found in the depths of said girl's backpack. Jacob's is slightly more decipherable - it is a poem asking all dads to slow down so that their little boys can follow in their footsteps. On either side of the poem is one of Jacob's footprints indelibly marked in blue paint. (God bless their teacher.) The poem made me cry.
It also reminded me of a theme that God has been speaking to me lately: my husband, quite simply, is a good man - a very good man. Yes, you might say, that is obvious. However, goodness is a quality of such humility that it is often overlooked and undervalued - much like my husband. And, like my dearest Dave, goodness is rare.
I watched The Painted Veil the other night. (While Dave was away I rented two movies - The Painted Veil and The Muppet's Wizard of Oz. The second was for the kids and they never made it through as they were petrified from the get go and in Hannah's words, "I'm glad our Wizard of God isn't like that!") Anyway, I highly recommend the first movie - it is incredibly affirming of marriage and fidelity and the cinematography is quite beautiful. The main female character, Kitty, marries for many reasons none of which are love. Unfortunately this lack of love leads to her own infidelity and the breakdown of her marriage. In steps a cholera epidemic in the depths of China (in 1925) to which her husband, a bacteriologist, volunteers his services. Kitty accompanies him and thus begins the restoration of their marriage. I mention this because at one point in the film Kitty says, "What woman ever loved a man because he was good?" This gave me pause.
I don't think that I fell in love with Dave just because he was good. There were plenty of other reasons. However, as marriage marches on; our family continues to grow; bodies grow tired; and nerves wear thin, I realise that I love my Dave because he is good. What better example could I have for my three boys to imitate and for my one girl to witness? For 7 years now I have prayed for my children - for a variety of intentions but most of all that they would come to know God and hear His call in their life. Lately, I have heard a small voice telling me that my prayers need not be lengthy or involved. Instead, and especially for my sons, I can pray one prayer that pretty much covers it all, "Dear Lord, let each of our sons grow to be like his father - a good and holy man." I think I will stick with that.
Someday when I'm all grown up, You're what I want to be; Then I will have a little child Who'll want to follow me. And I would want to lead just right, And know that I was true; So, walk a little slower, Dad, For I must follow you.
(Affectionately stolen from Jacob's SK Father's Day craft; used without permission.)
1. Hannah had been begging me for flip-flops since the hot weather set in. I found a pair yesterday. As you can see, she is obviously pleased even though she has to bring an alternate pair of shoes with her on walks. Sacrificing comfort for fashion begins at a young age.
2. Speaking of fashion: I finally got around to packing away the kids' winter clothes to make room for their summer garments. I asked the kids to help me by emptying their drawers. All of the kids were very helpful in the emptying-the-drawer part. Only a few of them stuck around for the sorting, folding and refilling-the-drawer part. I will mention no names.
Yes, those are life jackets on top. You never know when your bedroom might fill with water. The little boy to whom the leg in the upper left corner belongs really enjoyed the emptying of the closet and drawer adventure. Nothing quite like your mother asking you to make a mess.
3. My mother sent me a recipe book called Saints at the Dinner Table. It introduces a particular saint, provides a reflection and suggests a full dinner menu to celebrate that saint. For example, celebrating St. Josephine Bakhita (of Sudanese origin) will be my first opportunity to cook an entire Sudanese meal - I will like it, the kids might prefer to never celebrate her again. Anyway, Jacob has been reading this new book and became very excited when reading about St. Claire. You will recall that little Jacob is blind in his left eye as a result of a pediatric cataract at 17 months. Well, it turns out that St. Claire is the patron saint of eye diseases and television. Jacob has been supernaturally affirmed in his most desired and most denied pastime. Guess what he'll be asking St. Claire for?
4. Hannah has certain words that she simply cannot remember. Instead, she substitutes an alternate version; most of the time I correct her. However, there are some substitutions that are so cute that I have let her continue to use them. My favourite is her word for capris: submarines. I know that there is an association, I just can't figure it out.
5. Benjamin watched a Youtube video with me of an Orthodox Jewish rabbi deconstructing and rebutting Barack Obama's Cairo speech.
At the end, Ben said to me, "Mom, talk to me."
"Yes?"
"BwackObama's bad."
I related this anecdote to Dave at suppertime that night and Hannah said, "Barack Obama: he's the bad pope, isn't he?"
6. I ran into a mother of one of the boys in the twins' SK class today while walking to the post office. She is also a teacher but has been staying at home with her three boys and is expecting a fourth. Nevertheless, she volunteers frequently in the SK class. She told me that on one occasion the SK teacher asked her to assess Jacob's numeracy: that is, how high can he count? Jacob apparently got to 500 and asked if he could stop as he was getting quite tired. Previous to this morning, I had thought that his tale of counting to 500 was little more than an urban legend. Apparently, there is no debunking required.
7. And, finally: Happy Feast Day of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. This Feast, and its twin, the Immaculate Heart of Mary (tomorrow) are moveable feasts (not always on the 18th and 19th of June). For example, Dave and I were married on the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus which occurred on June 7th the year of our nuptials. So, enjoy yourself: eat some meat, feed the kids ice cream, but, most of all, entrust yourself to that most Sacred Heart - it's the best place to be.
With four small fries in tow, Dave and I often answer questions about our 'lifestyle' choices. I have grown used to passing people in public while they count from one to four; I laugh when I receive messages on Facebook from old highschool friends such as, "Are those kids all yours?"; and we both know that our life is not the regular route. To some onlookers, our life looks both frantic and confusing: we look sort of .. well ... you know ... normal -- except that we have 4 kids (and so many articles of religious paraphernalia that Dave has commented on his need to genuflect upon entering the house). For example, Dave recently traveled to a conference with two fellow teachers who asked him question after question about our life.
Were your parents fanatics? (Sort of:))
Elena's sister is a nun?
You and Elena actually agree about everything that the Church teaches?
You buy the whole package?
More kids?
And (the kicker): Why?
I have yet to deliver a compelling answer let alone a satisfying one-liner. And, truthfully, sometimes my guess is as good as anyone else's. But, what I really want people to understand is something that good friends said to us when we first found out that we were expecting twins: What a wonderful adventure you are on! We are - it's a a divine adventure.
Our abandonment to that adventure - our loss of control - might look like foolishness to those who look on in dismay, but it is actually real security. Not that we are free of anxiety or fears - God knows that is not true. But there is a bedrock of peace and acceptance. Unlike Great Big Sea, peace doesn't come with leaving behind one's Catholic conscience. I want people to know that we haven't bought into a Church that is just a set of rules and restrictions. No, it is a place of tremendous freedom and unburdening. We're not bored, we're not coerced, we're not brainwashed and we're not reactionaries. Even more so, the faith that we have said yes to is something to which we can give an excited and joyful assent. I think that the new Archbishop of New York, Timothy Dolan, puts it well - far better than I.
"Very often even the word Catholic, even the word church, has had a question mark behind it,” he says. “Does it know where it’s going? Does it know what it's teaching? Is it going to be around? There was a big question mark. A young person will not give his or her life for a question mark. A young person will give his or her life for an exclamation point.”
And, as Jacob constantly reminds me when reading aloud, "An exclamation point requires electric excitement, Mom." No, I'm not always electrically excited - very rarely, actually. For example, tonight I wiped the remnants of soft-serve ice cream from Joe's carseat while contemplating the rate of ice-cream melting vs. that at which a child can lick said cone. Conclusion: the ratio needs to be reversed. I also thought about Dave's upcoming absence (end of the year school trip) when I will have the kids on my own for a couple of days - a plenary indulgence is coming my way. And, as I write this, Jacob (who should be sleeping) is on his fourth trip to the living room to tell me that the rocks that he got in his cast today are causing him to bleed... None of this sounds worthy of an exclamation point ... but it is. There are days when I hit my head against the wall, use words I shouldn't, and dream of trips to far away lands. But, I am still so grateful that somehow the grace of God found me and allowed me to say yes to an exclamation point. This Youtube video somehow reminded me of all that.
With four small fries in tow, Dave and I often answer questions about our 'lifestyle' choices. I have grown used to passing people in public while they count from one to four; I laugh when I receive messages on Facebook from old highschool friends such as, "Are those kids all yours?"; and we both know that our life is not the regular route. To some onlookers, our life looks both frantic and confusing: we look sort of .. well ... you know ... normal -- except that we have 4 kids (and so many articles of religious paraphernalia that Dave has commented on his need to genuflect upon entering the house). For example, Dave recently traveled to a conference with two fellow teachers who asked him question after question about our life.
Were your parents fanatics? (Sort of:)) Elena's sister is a nun? You and Elena actually agree about everything that the Church teaches? You buy the whole package? More kids? And (the kicker): Why?
I have yet to deliver a compelling answer let alone a satisfying one-liner. And, truthfully, sometimes my guess is as good as anyone else's. But, what I really want people to understand is something that good friends said to us when we first found out that we were expecting twins: What a wonderful adventure you are on! We are - it's a a divine adventure. Our abandonment to that adventure - our loss of control - might look like foolishness to those who look on in dismay, but it is actually real security. Not that we are free of anxiety or fears - God knows that is not true. But there is a bedrock of peace and acceptance.
Unlike Great Big Sea, peace doesn't come with leaving behind one's Catholic conscience. I want people to know that we haven't bought into a Church that is just a set of rules and restrictions. No, it is a place of tremendous freedom and unburdening. We're not bored, we're not coerced, we're not brainwashed and we're not reactionaries. Even more so, the faith that we have said yes to is something to which we can give an excited and joyful assent. I think that the new Archbishop of New York, Timothy Dolan, puts it well - far better than I.
"Very often even the word catholic, even the word church has had a question mark behind it," he says. "Does it know where it's going? Does it know what it's teaching? Is it going to be around? There was a big question mark. A young person will not give his or her life for a question mark. A young person will give his or her life for an exclamation point.”
And, as Jacob constantly reminds me when reading aloud, "An exclamation point requires electric excitement, Mom."
No, I'm not always electrically excited - very rarely, actually. For example, tonight I wiped the remnants of soft-serve ice cream from Joe's carseat while contemplating the rate of ice-cream melting vs. that at which a child can lick said cone. Conclusion: the ratio needs to be reversed. I also thought about Dave's upcoming absence (end of the year school trip) when I will have the kids on my own for a couple of days - a plenary indulgence is coming my way. And, as I write this, Jacob (who should be sleeping) is on his fourth trip to the living room to tell me that the rocks that he got in his cast today are causing him to bleed... None of this sounds worthy of an exclamation point ... but it is. There are days when I hit my head against the wall, use words I shouldn't, and dream of trips to far away lands. But, I am still so grateful that somehow the grace of God found me and allowed me to say yes to an exclamation point. This Youtube video somehow reminded me of all that.
Grandpa Nick came to visit yesterday on a brief time-out from field work on Georgian Bay. On an earlier visit from a few years ago, Grandpa Nick made a mistake: he set the bar too high. On that visit he played hard with the twins -- games of Monster Tag, intense running races and high energy hide-and-seek. Thus, the twins expect the same on all visits. There is no sitting on laps, weaving tales from the past or munching on cookies. High octane fun is expected and, somehow, Grandpa Nick delivers. No wonder they cry when he leaves. Here is Joseph wondering where everybody went during hide-and-seek.
Maybe Mommy knows.
This is Benjamin attempting to tell Joseph where HannahJacob (Ben's term) went. I don't know if Ben was quite sure what was going on either.
Success: they found their sister atop a fire hydrant.
This was to be expected.
The Grandpa who is not to be left alone. Yes, he does laundry (but only when not at home). And, because it's Movie Monday, here are two clips of Monster Tag.
The school of fish. While the triathletes swim the duathletes run the first of the two running legs.
Here's the gang prior to the start of the endless slog, ahem, race. Joseph is hydrating in preparation for the morning.
The line up. Dave's bike (a Canadian Tire special that only looks like a road bike but operates like something far worse) is the one with the blue towel draped over the seat.
Here's the man completing the first leg of the race - a 2.2 km run. Easy Peasy.
And here he is suiting up for the next leg - a 35 km bike ride.
And this is what the kiddoes do while the crazy people over-exert themselves in 30 degree weather.
Here he is dismounting and preparing to run over the time pad so that the time chip in his ankle band can be recorded. The athletes dismount quite violently, whipping their feet out of their bike shoes and running across the time pad. The first guy off the bike actually dismounted so quickly that he went head over heels and ended his entire race with a trip to the hospital.
Run, run. Notice he is not wearing spandex shorts. I vetoed the wearing of tight pants on race day. I almost missed this shot as Dave came in past the time at which I was expecting him. Apparently his Supercycle just didn't hold up to the $3000 bikes of his competitors. He said that he felt like a giant hand was pulling him from behind on downhills. My father, who raced bikes in his younger days, tried out the bike and remarked that it was amazing that Dave was able to ride in a straight line. Talk about a handicap.
However, Dave is a very natural runner and with very little training easily chugged out the last 8 km run. Our local and very droll naturopathic doctor even threw a whole cup of water on him.
Aunt Julie starting her run.
And here is Joe waiting nervously for the arrival of his father. I asked him to please finish the race alive as going back to work with four kids would be difficult.
Here comes Daddy. I had watched a few dads cross the line holding their children by the hand so I thought that Dave should do the same. Perhaps I should have told him about my plans. As a result Jacob ran out without fear to join his Daddy for the last few metres. However, Benjamin, lacking the carefree spirit of his brother, hesitated and missed the chance to cross the finish line avec Papa. This caused a huge meltdown and Ben fell to the ground in tears while sputtering, "Jacob, Daddy, run with...Jacob, Daddy, run with..." You get the picture. I then made my way to the finish line with Joe in one arm and Ben dragging behind in a pool of tears.
This is Dave glancing back at his wife and melting children.
My next best plan was to get Ben to cross the line with his Aunt Julie. However, Aunt Julie had no eyes for anything but the finish line and Ben seemed mildly confused as to who this woman was and certainly no intention of taking her hand. Nevertheless, Dave soon arrived with Gatorade and Ben's tears dried up rather quickly. 
Aunt Julie running away from her relatives.
And that's the end. We went home, Dave slept for an hour with two fans directed at his body and I fed hotdogs to the kids, our houseguests and myself. Hats off to the athletes and hats out for donations to the bike fund.
