Sometimes I get the impression that people don’t believe just how out of touch we are with television and celebrity and sports and pretty much everything that is unrelated to our own small bubble that surrounds our boat. Then this happens while my mom watches her morning talk show and Ali is making the kids’ breakfast:

Today Show: “And coming up, more on the upcoming birth of the Royal baby.” Or something along those lines.

Ali: “What royal baby?”

Mom: “Seriously?”

Ali: “What?”

Mom: Explains to Ali all of this royal baby business.

Ali: Turns to me and asks, “Did you know about this?”

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The first words out of Ouest’s mouth today were, “I miss Aunt Katy.” Sorry Aunt Toni, but she did explain to me later on in the day that you had to go home to take care of Lea.

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For Fourth of July family fun we drove out to the suburbs. Just twenty minutes away is a place called—of all the obnoxious suburbia names—Happy Valley. Go ahead and throw up a little, I did, especially after seeing all the locals with their GET MORE HAPPY t-shirts. But then I got off my high-horse and soaked it in. It was a happy place. Perhaps even happy enough to warrant the name. Happy kids slid down the big inflatable slide, Ouest and Lowe got to climb around in a firetruck with a happy fireman, a happy lady painted a butterfly on Ouest’s cheek (it didn’t even compare to this butterfly though), happy performance artists crafted balloon animals, a Greek girl happily took my gyro order, a happy Mexican served me a cold glass of horchata, Lowe happily ran around and around the baseball diamond leaving a trail of dust in his wake, and then both kids happily splashed around in the water fountain park. I’ll be damned if we weren’t happy—and in a valley.