Summer break is almost here for the kids, which means lots more time for climbing.

Ali’s plants and flowers have transformed the house the past few months and now we’ve got all sorts of birds hanging around. Lots of hummingbirds.

With rainy season on the way we finally got cracking on a couple projects. The main ones being installing some small roof/canopies (tejadillos) over doorways that have a tendency to let a lot of water into the house. I had a metal fabricator down the street make up a couple steel frames and then I went off to buy the tejas. I really had zero idea how much these things would cost, but I was still surprised when I was told they were only 6 pesos (about 30 cents) each. This may turn out to be my least expensive home improvement project yet.

Wondering when I’m going to get that tejadillo finished.

We’ve struggled to find a really good gordita right in town for some reason, but found this place a few minutes down the highway and were glad we did.

I was taking Ouest to her volunteering across town when we turned the corner to this. Ouest was like, “Oh yeah, today is that car race thing I told you about.” Turns out it wasn’t a race, but was the Gumball 3000. I was excited, briefly, because my memory of the Gumball was that it was a race. I mean, I knew it wasn’t an illegal Cannonball Run any longer, but I figured it was at least a competition of some kind. Instead, these days it’s just a parade for really rich people to drive their supercars around during the day and hold elaborate parties each night. Pretty uninteresting, really.

It was fun to watch them scrape up their Ferraris on the topes, though.

I never take the car if I can help it.

Lowe scored his first pink route (V6-V7) and then talked me through the same route that weekend. We were both pretty pleased with ourselves.

Now that I’m laying out roof tiles I noticed that the third floor patio roof had an entire section done wrong. Look at the right side of Lowe and you can see a couple of them that are sitting on top instead of underneath the ones behind them. Of course it’s in a spot that I’d have to risk my life in order to fix.

During the last week of school the kids had an International Food Day that all the parents were invited to attend. This was Ouest showing Ali her locker, which was supposed to have been cleaned out by then. It clearly had not been.

As far as school goes, the first year was a great success for both of them. Straight As and nothing but praise from all the teachers. As parents who had chosen unschooling, it has been a great relief to know we didn’t ruin their education and that we managed to raise good people that both kids and adults like.

When it gets close to her normal afternoon walk time Za just starts following you around and sitting on your feet in case you need a reminder.

Somehow we thought we could just wander up to the Locos parade at 10:15 when everyone else had started securing spots at 5:00. This was as close as we could get. Next year we’ll plan better, though I doubt we’ll be setting up chairs at 5am.

And then it was time to get out of San Miguel for a bit. Grammy turned 80, and for man many years we’ve been trying to arrange a trip to England for her. Probably her #1 bucket list item. This year we had to make it happen. I mean after the past few years she’s had it’s a bit of a miracle we’re celebrating 80 with her at all, and that she is doing so well.

I hopped on a plane to Portland to spend a couple days helping her get ready for the trip. Of course, my flight out of Queretaro was delayed a couple hours, making me miss my Dallas connection by 15 minutes and leaving me with two options. One, take the airline’s horrible Motel6 voucher, or book my own stay for the night and deal with the paperwork with Chase to get my delay expenses reimbursed. It was late and I took the nightmare fuel. I am not a fan of Texas, in general, and the strip of crap hotels surrounding DFW only reinforced my opinion. Honestly, what a hellscape.

Thirty-six hours after leaving home, I was finally in Portland. Summertime here really is extraordinary.

And look who was there to greet me. Bridget is still kicking. Just ignore that giant tumor thing growing on her neck and the protruding teeth and the heart medication twice a day.

I was at the gas station one day in a bit of a funky part of town when a guy walked through the parking lot up to me. My mind immediately sized him up as about to ask me for money. Instead he asked a strange question. He pointed across four busy lanes of traffic to his friend who was standing in the back of a pickup alongside a huge piece of furniture. He asked if I could help him lift it out of the truck and into the house. I asked why his friend couldn’t help and he said he wasn’t strong enough. Good enough for me, I jumped in the car and drove around the block to meet them figuring I was either about to be mugged, or I was going to do this guy a solid favor.

They were speaking Spanish, so we bantered back and forth a bit, got the massive hutch (I want to call it) out of the truck and onto a dolly, wheeled it down to the apartment they had been rehabbing (new floors, new kitchenette, some fresh paint), settled it into the bedroom, shook hands and said adios.

It was the most Mexican thing I would do while in the States.

My mom and her twin sister. Two freshly minted 80 year-olds wearing their fashionable anti-glare glasses while waiting for a table to open up for breakfast. If you find yourself in NE Portland looking for a very traditional Portland funky-vibes cafe, try out Cameo on Sandy Blvd. My aunt has known the owner for decades—a hilarious Korean lady who talked our ears off for half-an-hour and wasn’t afraid to just reach in and squirt her house-made hot sauce all over our food.

Time to get the ol’ Porsche out and stretch her legs a bit.

Every year my mom’s community holds a big car show, and every year she tells me about it she says, “I wish you were here. You could bring the Porsche and enter it in the show.” Well, boom, this year was the year that the stars aligned. And yes, I realize I just ragged on the Gumball 3000 people in this same post.

When I was a kid my mom had a 1965 Mustang, metallic root beer colored with a white top. I loved that car. I remember always begging to turn the key to start it whenever we went somewhere. I’d turn, she’d pump the gas pedal, and it would roar to life. I remember my dad taking it up over 100 mph on Lower Afton Road one day when I asked him how fast it could go. I felt like I was being slammed back through the seat. I never really forgave my parents (well, I did, but I still give them shit) for selling that car when I was fourteen years old. I was already counting down the days to when I’d be able to jump in that thing and speed off. Tired of keeping it running they traded it in for a poop brown Chrysler Lebaron. Ugh.

My mom was sitting right in this spot holding baby me in her arms back in 1974 on the way home from the hospital. She loves to tell that story and it’s always fun to get her back in that seat.

It’s kind of funny to think now, but in 1974 this was just a pretty run-of-the-mill used car. Basically no different to her than the many VW bugs they’d owned already. This ’65 was the last year of the 356 model and after that it was all about the 911s. Nobody thought too much of these cars for the next thirty years or so. It’s only the last 10 or 15 years that the 356 really became a hot item again.

After the show I got picked up off a dock by friends who zipped me off to dinner along the Columbia. Nice way to cap off the day.

Meanwhile, back in Mexico, Ali was dropping off the dog while they got ready for the trip.

While she was doing that I was in Vancouver sneaking in a climb before catching the evening flight out for London.

The excitement amongst the crew at the Assisted Living home was palpable. Grammy was ready!

Back in Mexico City this gang was loaded up and headed the same way.