Last night, I flew into Phoenix to spend the week(ish) with Mom and Eric. That Sam and Jackso-own are also here is just icing on the cake.

Well, maybe they're the cupcake. That Beej drove up from Tucson to visit with me and the fam also was the icing on the cake. I think I can never get enough of Beej: he has to be the best brother a girl could ever have. Can I say that without Mom getting mad at me for not saying something about Chris, too? I mean, sure, parents aren't supposed to show bias to a particular child. Heh. Me. Without bias. Who are we kidding?

We talked all day, watched the boys in the pool as Mom went to work in the afternoon, played games with them, and generally relaxed. Watching two boys play, and keeping them entertained, is definitely easier with two people having man-on-man defense, rather than one person having to play zone defense.

In the evening, Eric came home from work, then Mom came home, and both asked where we wanted to go for dinner. Beej immediately piped up, "Oregon Stop Pizza. Andy was telling me about it, and ..." Turns out, a friend of his had gone a lot when he was still at home in high school, but B had never gone. Tonight, with two kids in tow, would be a great time to go.

So, into the car we pile, and off we go to the Oregon Stop Pizza. I had a few calls I needed to make to arrange portopotties for the weekend's tournament, the Sunnyvale Savage Seven, which I've been wanting to host at the local school for years now. I offered what I wanted on my pizza and wandered outside to make my calls. Guaranteed, I was the only person in the Phoenix metropolitan area wearing a hoodie outside at that point.

I walked back in after my calls, as Eric was walking out to find me and make sure everything was okay. As we walked back to the table together, flashing lights and loud music blasted from the dining area. I looked up and around and realized we weren't at the Oregon Stop Pizza place, we were at the Organ Stop Pizza place. The restaurant has one of the largest organs in North America (putting even the one at St. Paul's to shame), complete with spinning organ that drops into the stage and pipes that make the upstairs balcony rumble (recommended for anyone to try).

Mom had never been to the restaurant, so Beej asked her what she thought.

"Well, we've had worse pizza."

"How's the wine?"

"Well, we haven't had any worse."

My new favorite photo ever.

ad managed to arrange to leave work early today, which meant we were able to spend more time together today before I flew to Arizona to spend most of the week with Mom, Eric, Sam and Jackson (pronounced with enthusiasm as Jak-sooooo-own). I had taken the dog on a walk earlier, and had something I was dying to show him. He eventually agreed, and off we went to walk the dog for the second time that day.

At the end of the street, I pointed to the street sign. Dad looked up, and, after a few moments, started laughing.

Lincoln never spelled his name so well.

Off to the left of the bend in the road (or the right if you're facing the other way, of course), was a dirt drive. I've often looked at this road, and assumed it led to the road close to the elementary school I attended as a child. I leashed up the dog and started walking down the road, forcing my dad to follow me. He was surprised when we crested the hill and saw a vineyard. I was surprised when we crested the hill and saw fields and woods for a much farther distance than I realized. Sure, this was the short cut to school when I was small, but it was still a long, long walk for a 10 year old.

We walked back along the fields talking about not much. Dad commented several times that we were trespassing, and seemed far more nervous about doing so that I expected him to be. The fields are ones that I'd really like to own, as well as those across the street. Have to get a move on if I actually want to have that happen.

While talking on the walk, I mentioned the tournament and how I had met Alex Thorne. I commented that he was 5'6" 115 pounds, and that the 115 pounds was the weight I wanted to drop to. I told Dad I was rethinking that weight, as Alex seemed awfully skinny: more that he hadn't grown into his height than undernourished, a few more years and he'd be bigger. Maybe 115 wasn't such a good idea for me.

Dad then commented that yeah, he always thought I was too skinny growing up, that he was happy I finally gained some weight. He agreed that 115 would probably be too thin for my height.

The opinion surprised me. I never knew my dad thought that. I can't say I ever thought that about myself except in passing maybe once. It's interesting what you can learn when you just start talking to someone and his guard is down because he's worried he's trespassing in his neighbor's yard.

I met the neighbor today. She's tall!

I went over to look at the Larson's house. Turns out, it has a for sale sign on the door that isn't really just a for sale sign: it's also a notice of foreclosure. I called the realtor (after taking one of those little tags off the sign with the phone numbers to call), made the showing appointment for today and went over with Dad.

I should have taken my camera with me. I'm not quite sure what I was thinking.

I'm trying to convince Kris that we should put an offer on the house. I may do so over his objections (likening the action of his ignoring my passenger driving directions by listening, evaluating what I have to say, and rejecting it to my listening to his objections, evaluating it, and making an offer anyway).

If real estate is all about location, location, location, in my mind, this one wins.

Besides, according to Dad and Linda, I'd have a GREAT neighbor. Come on, what's not to love about that.

P.S. Mom later commented when I talked to her about making an offer on the house that the Swets (sp?) house next door and the Larson house were both owned by the same people at one point (the original owners), who moved from the big house to the Larson house when their kids moved out and the house was too big. The two properties may have a shared well, which is why Dad and friends couldn't find the well on the Larson's property.