Our grandson is here. We’ll have him to ourselves for a few days. His father will be here later next week and both of them will stay with us through the 4th of July. No daughter-in-law or granddaughter, though — Beth and Taylor are on the softball circuit in California Colorado, and when Greg and Quentin leave here on the 5th of July they’ll drive there to meet them they’re all going to meet up in California for the rest of their summer vacation.
Number one grandson’s Tucson bicycle is down from the garage rafters, ready to decorate for the 4th of July neighborhood parade. We’ll swing by the dollar store later today to stock up on red, white, and blue crepe.
What else is on? We’re riding bicycles Saturday morning with our friend Mary Anne, a fellow grandparent who’ll be riding with her granddaughter Jade, a bud of Quentin’s. Saturday night there’s a kids’ thing at the air museum — Jade will be there too. Hmm, it almost sounds like we’re trying to set the two of them up, doesn’t it? Starting Monday, we drop Quentin off at one of the local resort hotels for a three-day Lego camp, and there’s at least one play date at the local water park on the schedule. Then the dad comes and we can turn the entertainment duties back over to him. It’s definitely more fun being a grandparent than it was being a parent … but still a certain amount of work!
The fuel gauge in my car quit working. The oddest thing, as if that’s not odd enough on its own, is that it failed gradually. At first the gauge would read accurately on startup, then slowly settle toward E as I drove. If I turned the ignition off at a stoplight and started the car again the gauge would return to normal, but after a few minutes it’d be indicating empty again. Eventually the gauge failed completely and now always reads empty, accompanied by a bright yellow light. Early on, when the gauge was still sort of functioning, a warning bell would actuate. Apparently the bell was triggered by the needle dropping below a certain level. Now that the needle’s permanently resting on the little peg below the E the bell no longer goes off, thank goodness. Because of the way the gauge failed, I suspect a problem with the ignition switch. If that’s the case, something more important will fail soon, and then I’ll have to get it fixed.
I’m keeping track of the fuel level with my trip odometer, which I reset to zero every time I fill up — at about 250 miles I start looking for a cheap gas station. That’s how we hippies used to keep track of fuel in our Volkswagens, which didn’t need no stinkin’ fuel gauges!
Donna’s at work and I’m home alone with Quentin. No, that’s not quite right … Polly’s here too, but she’s still in bed and likely to remain there until noon, so I’m temporarily in charge of entertaining the lad. How about a trip to the library? And, depending on the odometer reading, the gas station? Sounds like a plan to me!