We started the day by packing a lunch and taking three excited boys to Dinosaur Valley, as promised. Dinosaur Valley is roughly an hour's drive outside the city, and it is built on a site where dozens of full skeletons have been unearthed. It really is something to behold, if you expect that the roof of the quarry will have gaping holes torn in it, therefore many bones will be covered with plastic sheeting. It's all about context, my friends.
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| The surrounding villagers have painted dinosaurs on their homes. |
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| The gas station outside the park. |
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| The happy sightseers (or shall I say, site-seers) |
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| A very big femur and three cute kids. |
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We wrapped up the day by going to Sandra's restaurant for dinner with Tim and Amy. Sandra is a large German woman who doesn't believe in G0D, doesn't believe in marriage (she told us so), and makes the best food this side of the Rhine. Show up, and she'll greet you rudely and tell you what's for dinner. Last night it was Ostrich, imported from South Africa. Not only will Sandra's patrons walk away with a bellyful of gourmet food, they will learn something if they care to engage her in friendly conversation. Last night she told us, in her thick German accent, how she learned to cook.
"My best friend as a child was Italian," she said. "I would go with her to visit her grandmother in Italy. Her grandmother was a short, fat Italian woman who always wore black dresses because someone in her huge family had always just died. When we got to a certain age, she would no longer let us play outdoors because of the boys, so we were kept in the kitchen to help her cook. My friend grew up to be a flight attendant. She hates to cook. I grew up to be a chef."
Sandra's is in this neighborhood:
She cooks for us, we pray for her. Its a happy arrangement.
