Creature Bug

A Weekend in Lincoln City

One of the small inconveniences for where we live now is that we don't live as close to the beach as we did before.

We used to live just over 1 hour from the beach.

Now we live over 2 hours from the beach. TWO WHOLE HOURS.

I moaned about it once to my sister--who lives in Colorado--and she told me to be quiet. Evidently moving from Pasadena, CA, to Ft. Collins, CO, has taken a toll on her beach humor. Sheesh.

A few months ago, when we were thinking about what to do for our anniversary weekend, we thought about heading somewhere north. Now that we live in Washington we have a good excuse to explore all the beautiful places up north. I'm assuming there are beautiful places up there anyway. At least, that's what Margaret and my Sunset magazine keep telling me.

But then a former student of ours had her wedding last weekend, so we ended up down in Oregon anyway. We weren't at all disappointed because it was a wedding we were happy to go to.

Geron and Ryan make a beautiful couple, and we were extra delighted to be able to visit with her older siblings who we also had as students (although I already talk to Devon quite regularly, but still. good times).

After the wedding, we were off to Lincoln City, our go-to beach city.

Even though it was hotter than blazes in the valley, it was quite foggy and cool at the beach with hardly a view of the horizon. No matter. We still had a great time shopping at the outlet stores, eating lunch at the Blackfish Cafe (highly recommend the chowder, and Inkling will agree with me on that), eating dinner at Kylos (the crabcakes are delicious, though probably overpriced), and staying two nights at the newly remodeled and oh-so-chic Surftides Hotel. Their continental breakfast was rather pitiful, but the rooms were fab with amazing views of the ocean (the above picture was taken from our hotel balcony).

We took long walks on the beach. I got in a good nap. Jason got to exercise for a couple hours (whee). And we even went to see a movie. It used to be that I wondered why anyone would go to the beach and then waste time sitting in a movie theatre. Now that I have children, I think anytime you have a babysitter is a good time to go see a movie. (Incidentally, we saw a popular R-rated comedy which was hilarious, though very, very deserving of its R-rating.)

Then we wrapped up our visit with a trip to our favorite candy shop, owned by a family whose daughter was a student of Jason's.

Read's Homemade Candies is the only store in Lincoln City that makes its own salt water taffy. Their taffy is excellent (and Sydney and Jules agree); their chocolate covered orange sticks are amazing. I ate...oh...let's just say, I ate a lot of them. And I'm not sorry.

It was, all in all, a perfect anniversary weekend. Very relaxing, and just what we needed, especially since we had been more than a little snippy at each other the week before. Though we may be perfect for each other, we are definitely not perfect to each other. And this summer--what with all the settling in, readjusting to a new life, reconnecting after a school year of long absences from each other--has been...I don't know what to call it. Well, I guess it's been hard work. Twelve years of marriage and we're still learning how to be gentle with each other. I'm willing to bet we'll always be learning that.

Fortunately, the hard work is worth it. Absolutely. Positively. Every single day.

PS: The hard work is easier with a mouthful of salt water taffy and chocolate covered orange sticks. Just FYI.

Week 266: Too hot to blog

My town set an all-time record for hot temperatures today. I wandered over to my parents' house to check out their faithful frog thermometer (they've had it my entire life, and it's still accurate). This is how hot it was at 7:30 pm tonight:

 

It got up to 107 degrees today. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN. (That would be 42 degrees Celsius for my Canadian friends, which doesn't really sound that hot but certainly must be.) One hundred and seven...that's just crazy hot. We're going on day three of hundred-plus temperatures, although my household is surviving it fairly comfortably because of our blessed AC. I can't tell you how thankful I am for the AC that's been blasting all day and night. Yes, all night. Last night it didn't get any cooler than 70 degrees outside, which is too warm for us to sleep comfortably. I'm spoiled and I know it.

Considering that probably 80% of the PacNW population doesn't have AC, it's brutally hot for almost everyone. We visited Jason's grandma in Eugene yesterday, and it was over 80 in her house. Thankfully, she has an AC unit in her bedroom, so she's safe from overheating.

On the upside, I suppose we're acclimating a little bit to what the weather will be like when we're in Florida next week. Florida in August sounds so not fun, but turns out, the end of July in Oregon-- er...Washington--isn't any fun either. I guess we're even.

I feel like I have lots to write about, but after spending the day at the creek--the only outdoor activity that's safe and fun--I'm just plum tuckered out.

It won't be too late to post summer pictures in September, will it? I hope not.

Dancing Down the Aisle

Jason and I are heading out of town for the weekend in order to not-so-solemnly celebrate TWELVE YEARS of marriage.

Woo hoo!

Twelve years! What was I thinking, getting married at 21? Evidently I was thinking pretty clearly because it was one of the best decisions I've even made in my life. (The other great decision was switching to bootleg jeans, which changed my fashion life forever.)

And if we had to do it all over again, I would use my powers of persuasion to get Jason to do this wedding entrance. It's amazing.

As my friend Becca wrote, it's exactly how a wedding should feel.

And aside from a few hiccups here and there, it's exactly how the last twelve years of marriage have felt.

Jason, honey, sweetums...I love you.

Aunt Jane & Mom

So which one of these beautiful women is my mom?

After reading all your guesses, I'm thinking that I must still look like my aunt. The answer is: my mom is in the green.  My aunt is wearing the black sweater. They both are beautiful; I feel lucky to resemble them.

Here's Aunt Jane and Uncle Don (at Grandma's birthday party last week):

 

I think there's still a strong family resemblance between her and I, don't you think?

Here's me and my mom at my birthday party last February:

 

Things that you can't tell from a photograph is that we have similar voices, facial expressions, and laugh. If only I could make a lemon meringue pie like her, then I'd be set.

As some of the Facebook commenters pointed out, my mom and I have the same smile. She does a better job at keeping her smile from getting too gummy. My smile, on the other hand, is sometimes lucky to be showing any teeth. (You don't even know how many hours I spent practicing my smile for my wedding day so that I wouldn't show too much of my gums. I really have to concentrate on that muscle memory to get a smile that photographs well. Vanity, I know.)

Not vanity, but rather sheer family pride, is that I look like both my mom and my aunt. They're both a huge part of my life, and that I reflect them in my face is a great honor.

Family Photo Wall

When we moved into Grandma's house last fall, our plan was to just be here for a year. We figured we'd leave all of Gram's things here since she would perhaps be moving back in. And even if she didn't, then my parents would certainly want a fully furnished house for visiting guests.

Then we decided we'd be living here for a couple years, and knew we'd have to move all our stuff in--and all of Grandma's things out--in order to make this place feel like our own.

That sentence took me 30 seconds to write for a task that took more than a month to do. Weird.

One of the first things we did was take pictures and art off the wall. But there was one wall of pictures that I left up until the very end. In fact, people would come over to visit us and I could see them looking at the wall of pictures, probably thinking how odd it was for me to have 8x10 pictures of my entire extended family hanging on the wall.

For as long as I can remember my grandparents have had this wall of family pictures. It includes their children, their children's weddings, and all their grandchildren.

I remember spending hours looking at the my uncles, aunt, and mom's senior portraits. They're so classic.

My aunt and her family live here on the Family Farm. When I was younger people always thought I resembled my aunt and not my mom. Then I moved away for 15 years, and now that I'm back in town all grown up, people tell me all the time I look like my mom. I think I look like both of them.

Can you tell who is my mom and who is my aunt? I'd love to read your guess.

The wedding pictures, too, always captured my attention. I was one of those girls who always dreamed of getting married, but never dreamed of having kids. Weddings seemed romantic; kids, not so much. I still pretty much hold to that opinion.

All my cousins were older than me, and I adored them. They were really just all so cool for little ole' me. I suspect I was annoying as all get out, but they tolerated me pretty well. My cousin Donnelle (on the bottom right) lived next door to me growing up, and we were best buds.

She lives next door to me now, and we're still best buds. Her daughter is one year older than Sydney, and now they'll get to grow up with each other. Is that amazing, or what?

My other cousins now live farther away, but I do get to see them every once in awhile. In fact, my cousin Tim (top middle) and his wife are in town from Erie, Pennsylvania, and we're going out to Portland tonight for dinner. Very cool.

And then at the end of the family line, there's me with my younger siblings: my brother Tyler, my sister Andrea, and then my youngest brother Jacob. I was always a little bitter that my cousins got to have nine cousins on our side of the family, whereas my siblings and I only got to have six. Cousins just seemed cooler than siblings.

Andrea and Jake look quite a bit different now; Ty and I not so much, except that having children has aged us both a little bit. Just a very teeny tiny bit.

Although I never really considered leaving the family photo wall in tact, it was still a strange feeling when I took it down. Those pictures have always been there, my family always peering out from behind those wood frames. I haven't figured out what to put up on the wall yet, so it's still bare.

Have you made a guess yet on who's my mom and who's my aunt? I'll give you the answer tomorrow. (And for those of you who know, then please keep your top secret info to yourself.)

Week 265: Stories. Unrelated.

I have no excuse for being offline except that I've been busy getting the house organized, going to a funeral, folding laundry, making breakfast, and doing freelance work. And feeling a bit overwhelmed, emotional, determined, humored, and scattered. I can't always figure out how to juxtapose blog posts next to each other without it appearing like my life is one huge mood swing. Well, actually, my life is one big mood swing. But you know. Whatever.

So, without trying to weave any sort of context or theme, I bring you some stories from last week.

:Monday:

We here on the Family Farm didn't get our mail last Monday. When my aunt went to the post office on Tuesday to inquire about the missing mail, the counter clerk said, "First of all, I want to tell you that the mail lady was not injured."

Yeah, that's never a good sign.

Our mail wasn't delivered because the mail truck burst into flames. ON FIRE. OUR MAIL. They delivered the crispy mail later in the week, but it was quite singed. I was a tad bitter about it because how long does it take to throw the mail out of the truck? Then I got over myself and realized that my mail isn't worth someone's life. Even though there was a paycheck for me in the mail. Meh.

Moral of the story: they may deliver through rain and sleet and snow, but they draw the line at burning vehicles.

:Tuesday:

We went to a financial seminar last Tuesday, which was fine as far as financial seminars go. But one of the speakers really bugged me when he made a slightly disparaging comment about smart people. And people with college degrees.

While I wouldn't consider myself a genius by any stretch of the imagination, I think I'm moderately intelligent. At least, I've had some really amazing college professors from whom I learned a great deal. Plus, I happen to have a college degree. Two, in fact. I mention all this to explain why I got into a bit of a huff when some guy wants to pish-posh smart people and their college degrees.

So after the seminar, as Jason and I were talking with some other people, the guy comes over to start up a conversation. We chat briefly with him before he asks us what we do for a living.

"I'm a teacher," Jason said.

And then for the first time in my life, and much to Jason's shock, I said, "I'm a college professor." I never tell people that's my occupation. I always say something to the effect of "Mostly I stay at home with my kids, but a couple days a week a teach at a college." I'm usually very apologetic about it since I'm just an adjunct. Without a doctorate. My professional life is very, very small.

However, for a brief fleeting moment I didn't feel apologetic about my job. Also, let's be honest, I wanted the guy to feel uncomfortable. He did. Apologized about his smart people comment, and I felt vindicated. And a teeny bit pompous.

:Wednesday:

I have a reoccurring nightmare that I'm driving along a winding road and lose control of the car, sending me over the edge. Sometimes I'm driving by myself, sometimes not. I always feel the split second of utter panic before I wake up. It's one of my greatest fears.

On Wednesday, we went to the funeral of one of Jason's co-workers who lost control of her car along I-5. Although almost the entire drive from Salem to Portland has a wide shoulder, she lost control on an overpass, and her car went over the edge. She was 53, a grandparent of three, amazingly friendly and thoughtful.

I cried throughout the funeral. Her children had lost their father to cancer a year previously. "It's not fair," said her daughter at the reception following the service. It was a really sad day. My grief was compounded by the fact that I'm losing a loved one to cancer. It's not fair.

:Thursday:

Life is a mood swing. One day we're mourning the loss of a too-early death, the next we're celebrating a life full of years.

It's true that life isn't fair, but many times we don't want it to be fair. Grandma turned 95...what a blessing.

:Friday:

Jason and I saw Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. It was good enough. Mostly I enjoy seeing Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, and Emma Watson together, and there were some poignant and funny moments related to teen relationships. (Also, this comment made me laugh: "too much of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince resembles a lesser episode of Beverly Hills, 90210 with owls.") 

In the end, however, I didn't think it did that great of a job capturing what book six is about (hardly a mention of the Horcrux plot), and the ending was totally flat (no battle scene?!). Also, while I'm certainly no purist when it comes to movie adaptations of books, I thought it took a few unnecessary liberties (Harry standing idly by at the ending's pivotal scene? the Weasley's house on fire?). I don't know if I would rank it as far as fourth place in the series, but definitely not higher than third.

:Saturday:

I worked all day on the house, and it's practically done being organized and unpacked. There are still a few stray boxes hanging around, the basement is in some disarray, and the walls still have to be painted, but mostly? It's done. It's a good feeling. A really good feeling. (I am ignoring the feeling that there will always be projects that need to be done.) Dare I say it, I think we're finally settled. I can't quite believe it.

So, there you go. Last week in a walnut shell. I'm a bit afraid to look at my Google Reader. It's probably about ready to explode.

Eventually, though, I'll start to relax, and my to-do list will shorten. I spent about five hours hanging out at the creek today, watching the girls play in the water and sand. AND I got a blog post in. Yay me.

I'd say that's a good start.

Week 264: A New Kitty on the Farm

When I was growing up on the Family Farm, we had to keep ourselves happy with a few sticks and some well crafted mud pies. And the trampoline. And a swing set/sand box. And, fine, we had dirt bikes too. So, we weren't totally deprived of all things fun, and it's true that many of our friends insisted we lived at the coolest place ever. But still. It all seemed very regular and low key to us.

And it remained fairly regular and low key until grandkids came along. And then somehow my parents got it into their heads that their grandchildren needed some extra fun things. Pshaw. Grandkids. They get all the fun stuff.

Some of the stuff they aren't even old enough to enjoy--like the zip line over the frog ponds--but the newest fun thing is...well, it is just their size. Or rather, it's just the size for them and ten of their friends.

It's a bounce house. Seriously. Why didn't I have a bounce house growing up? Maybe because there was no Internet from which you could order bounce houses.

The Internet now, however, is chock-full of bounce houses, and so after some serious deliberation, Sydney and my mom decided Mr. Lion would be a perfect fit at the farm.

I have to admit, I think Mr. Lion is pretty darn cute. Even I got in there and bounced around a little. You know, just to make sure it was safe. And, um, ergonomic. And efficient. Anybody would have done the same.

Inside the bouncy area is a climbing wall to get to the front. All you have to do is grab ahold of Mr. Lion's tonsils, climb on up...

...and there you are at the top of his mouth, ready to slide down out of the friendly beast. Jules was a little hesitant to slide the first few times, but now? Now they literally leap off the top, landing mid-slide before zipping all the way down. It's enough to make my heart stop every time they do it. They think it's hysterical.

Bounce houses in general are prone to inducing laughter.

In the end, I would say we're all big fans of the bouncy Mr. Lion. After all, something that makes them laugh and tires them out at the same time?

Well, let's just say it isn't only the grandkids who are getting spoiled.

1000th Post

Here's one reason why you photograph fireworks: to show a little celebration. This marks my 1000th Typepad blog post! How about that. It took me four-and-a-half years to get here, which averages out to about 20 posts a month. Not too shabby. Some months I did more (like the years I blogged every day in November for NaBloPoMo); some I did less (like when Jules was born). But I got here because clearly I had something to say.

That seems to pretty much always be the case.

I've tried to think of how to mark the occasion...

I could give away $1000, except I don't have $1000 to give away.

I could write a 1000 word essay about how blogging has changed my life. Eh. No doubt someone's already done that. 

I could go leave 1000 comments on blog posts/Facebook updates. I think that's about how far behind I am (unpacking and organizing the house has made me a terrible blogger/friend/emailer...at least I have Google Reader helping me out). 

One thousand things about me would be ridiculous. Even 100 things about me doesn't seem like much fun.

Let's go with Ten Random Things About Me and call it good.

1. I started running a few weeks ago. Sarah and I decided that we needed to insert a little exercise into our day, so we thought we'd start running (after all, she's even done a marathon, so she's no stranger to running). Off we go, our double strollers leading the way. I can now say that I can successfully run 5 miles without passing out. Progress.
2. I had the flu yesterday. It was terrible, and I didn't like it one bit. The upside is that I lost 2 pounds. That being said, I'd say I'm two flues away from my ideal weight.
3. This has not been a good reading year for me. I've hardly done any reading at all because I've been too distracted by Life and Transitions (they rightfully deserve uppercase letters). Some people read to escape, but I don't. I need to be in a good place emotionally before I can read. Which explains why I read very little when I taught high schoolers.
4. Some day I'd like to own a vacation house at the beach. If I won the lottery, a vacation house in Kauai would be nice; sans a multi-million dollar prize, I'd settle for the Oregon coast. Heck, I'd settle for just owning a house here on the farm.
5. My new favorite audiobook is Charlotte's Web. I love that book more than words can say.
6. I used to have my eyebrow pierced, and I've often thought of doing that again. Or maybe I'll get a tattoo on my foot. I won't tell my parents if I do get one though because they will. freak. out.
7. I have never visited North or South Carolina. I'd like to, but can't think of a good reason why I should.
8. My favorite ice cream is daiquiri ice (not technically an ice cream), which I think is only sold at Baskin & Robbins. One year for my birthday, my parents bought me a 10 gallon barrel of daiquiri ice. It was...a lot.
9. I really wish I owned the movie P.S. I Love You. I don't know why I don't. That's not a hint for someone to get it for me; it's just an observation.
10. I am very particular about having things clean. Oddly, however, I am not at all good about having things tidy. As a result, our house leans toward being messy, though very clean.

So, there you go. And if you were really itching to learn 990 more things about me, well, just peruse my archives. I can't imagine you'll get too far without discovering I'm kind of an emotionally crazy person who likes to read, tell stories, and take pictures.

Somehow my husband loves me anyway. And much to my surprise and constant delight, I think some of you folks tolerate me pretty well too. So, I'll see what I can do about writing up another 1000 posts.

Be forewarned though: I think it'll take me awhile.

Week 263: Big Boom Bash

I had every intention of posting pictures yesterday, but then I got caught up in another flurry of unpacking and organizing and when I was all done with that, Jason and I had to go out for dinner and movie. And consequently I now have a small crush on Ryan Reynold's character from "The Proposal." Quite an entertaining movie. But of course I've loved Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds for years and years.

But back before the movie, the dinner, and the organizing, there was a party.

And we here at the Family Farm seem to enjoy having parties.

Tyler and Sarah hosted their 2nd annual Fourth of July party, and while people would have naturally come anyway on account of all the fun and food, this year there wasn't even any competition from Ft. Vancouver's massive fireworks show since it was canceled this year. 

There was a ridiculous amount of good food, although for some reason I mostly just ate dessert. I tried to eat a hamburger, but the carmel corn was calling my name.

And the strawberry-rhubarb pie. And the yellow cake with chocolate frosting. And even the shiny top blueberry cobbler that I brought (which you can see pictured above in all its blueberry goodness). I was a bit disappointed that I evidently didn't cook the cobbler long enough, but it's pretty hard to go wrong with blueberries and three cups of sugar.

The girls managed to get in a few bites of this and that but were all in all having too much fun with the trampoline, the bounce house, the wading pool, and golf cart rides. Really. How can food compare to that?

But once it got dark, and the mosquitoes started nibbling at my legs, then we all settled down to watch some fireworks. I had decided earlier in the day that I would attempt to photograph the fireworks. I pulled out my mini-tripod, checked out some instructions from Ree the Pioneer Woman, and set my camera on the appropriate settings.

Earmuffs were optional. Glow sticks, however, were not. (Jules managed to bite not one, but TWO glow sticks and consequently ended up with glowing teeth and lips. TWICE. That child...*sigh*.)

I really have no business trying to photograph fireworks with my point and shoot camera. And yet. That didn't seem to stop me from trying.

I love those sparkles! I don't think I photographed this "correctly" but those sparkles make me happy. Like little fireworks fairies, yes?

I had a little bit of trouble getting my lens pointed in the right direction at the right time. Not helping matters was that I couldn't see a thing out of my viewfinder because, um, it was dark. And also, the camera was panicked about the lens having to stay open for several seconds to capture the photograph, so it was kinda freaking out.

Pipe down, camera. That's what I had to say. And then I had to go eat some more cake just for kicks.

Of course, I managed to not capture the really best parts of the fireworks, but hey! I had fun. Maybe I'll try it again when we're at Disney World next month (they have a terrific fireworks show). But first I have to figure out what exactly is the point of photographing fireworks to begin with...

Maybe I'll just eat some tasty Mickey Mouse dessert and call it good. I totally know what the point of that is.

VBC & Me

I have gotten the biggest kick out of reading your comments (here and over at Facebook) about your misnamed adventures. For one, I'm relieved to know that so many of you get called the wrong name. Makes me feel a little more normal. And for two, it's been an emotionally difficult week and your stories have brought some much needed humor to my life.

I mentioned last week that a close family member was in the hospital. This past Wednesday we got the results of that hospital stay, and it was the worst possible news we could have received. I can't really process the whole of it, and at some point I'll write through it, but I can't right now. I will say that your prayers for my family would be greatly appreciated.

As we all know, though, grief does not keep life from moving forward, and this was the week I was committed to helping out at my church's Vacation Bible Camp (evidently the new trend is to have VBC, not VBS...the theory being that "Camp" is more fun than "School," I guess...). I did some registration stuff and some photography stuff.

  

 

 

When I signed up a couple months ago to help at VBC, I had no idea that the week would come at a time when I'd be emotionally and physically exhausted. Nevertheless, starting my day surrounded by 500 kids ended up being exactly what I needed.

Plus, it turns out that it's good for the heart to photograph kids having lots of fun.

It's also good for the heart to listen to two little cousins talking excitedly about all the fun they were having at VBC. Oh boy, oh boy. These girls are something else.

I love seeing how they have different styles from each other, and yet they are so alike. Even though they do things on their own, they still want to be doing their own thing right next to each other.

In fact, they had initially been placed in different VBC classrooms, but of course that wouldn't do at all. At five years old, being apart from your best friend is about the worst thing that can happen. (And can you blame them? Who wants to be in a room full of people without a friend close by?) It was quickly fixed, and the week was smooth sailing from there.

On the drives home from church, they would talk about their drawings, about their snacks, about the games, about the crafts, and about the new verses they had memorized. One day's verse was "Do not let anyone look down on you because you are young." I asked Sydney if that meant me too. "No, Mom. You're not young."

Honey, Mama is ALWAYS young. No matter what. Remember that.