I am a rebel. I don't always do things the way I am supposed to or the way I am asked. Just between you and me, I most usually have trouble following directions because I am confused, a state of mind I am visiting more and more often as the years and months tick by. "Rebel" just sounds better. There is a reason I mention this state of rebellious confusion--it's coming up in the next paragraph. For now, I am too busy being rebellious.

Above is a photo of the home of my birth, always a welcome sight that never fails to lift the spirits. We celebrated Labor Day with family, swimming and b-b-quing (I didn't personally do either but I enjoyed watching and eating). My 80-something father takes care of all this green lushness. He did the b-b-quing today, too. My always adorable mother hosted the party. They are truly exceptional parents especially since they went out and bought my favorite Costco chocolate cake. I even ate a piece. It was worth it (unless my breathing stops during the night due to my wheat problem, making the worth-it-ness merely questionable).

It was a lovely day but no one would sit still long enough for me to take their photo. It seems they don't want to appear on my blog. When I think about it, I have to admit I feel the same. Except for a few photos of me in group shots at my niece's wedding, there is only one photo of myself on this blog--the one on the upper right hand corner. It's the only recent one that passes muster with me. I guess I can't blame my family for their bitter complaints about my less than flattering photos of them gracing these pages. So, for you other family members who look to this blog to keep tabs on how much faster than yourself your relatives are aging, it would seem you might have to make a personal visit.

The truth is, since I am participating in the Blogamama Road Trip, I am supposed to be blogging about the price of gas today. Nothing personal, but it is a topic that bores me. I can't find it within myself to care. It's too much, no matter where you go. Right? Right! In fact, in Europe, the prices are much higher and have been for years. Meanwhile, it was suggested that I include a picture showing the gas prices. I figured I could do that so here it is.



This pic was actually taken in the SF south bay, about an hour's drive from where I live. Here in my little burg, there is no gas station. Not one! It's the way the citizens of XXXXXXX like it. However, we do have gas stations nearby, which is terribly convenient for when you want to drive your car from one place to the next. BTW I have not seen a single gas station in my area that differentiates between cash or credit customers. Just an interesting little side note for those who find gas interesting.

Moving on, my next assignment is to blog about my favorite restaurants in my area. I guess I can mention that as well as my favorite menu selections but I think an even better idea is to share with you the infamous night at our local IHOP restaurant, from which we have been barred ever since "Watch Out For" posters have been affixed to the walls of every branch in California and into Nevada. The sad part, as humiliating as the whole experience turned out to be, it was a strangely bonding moment and one of our best ever Christmas memories. Stay tuned .. . .