In Which The Grandparents Swoon

After much hand-wringing and fretting--what I do best--our Suz has started to talk. It's partly due to it simply being Her Time, but also due to her seeing a speech therapist. We are a-l-l a lot happier that she has moved on from her two favorite words: "UGHHH!!!" and "UGHHH!!!"

Try not to have a cute attack OR be overly annoyed at MY VOICE. It can be grating at times.

The Zoo: Part 1

Well, enough of the beach. I've got a good week or so of zoo pictures to bore you with. I might just post a picture of a lone giraffe for kicks. Comment, or else!

Everyone's always trying to get me to buy a zoo pass. Hey, folks. I ALREADY LIVE IN A ZOO. I don't need to go visit one.

They tell me it will save me money. That we can go! Anytime! For "free!"

Well, I have a story that will make my Mother proud.

Once a month the zoo opens their doors to the cheapskates mass humanity, letting each person in for a measly two bucks.

(Two bucks!)

And! If you can show proof that you took mass transit to get there, they take an additional dollar off each person's admission. So, with Sister Susie being a freebie already and Pa being off at work, our big outing cost me a whole THREE DOLLARS.

Eat my dust, you pass pushers!

And, I have no desire to go again for say...another seventeen years.

I really like zoos. Can you tell?

Anyway, back to the zoo at hand. We did indeed take mass transit to get to the zoo because it's cheaper, easier, and it gives the kids a thrill. Here's Campers on the train:

Make sure you notice the fiiiiiiine photography skillz that appear in these zoo posts. It just goes to show ya, it's not the camera, it's the photographer. (Ahem.) Pa would say, "take more pictures." And I would retort, "It's kinda HARD to take more PICTURES when I have to WRESTLE three MONKEYS at the ZOO."

And you know what? Here's what else I have to say about that:


Moving right along.

Here's Suz on the mass transit train, starting the day off right with kicking her brother Zig in the back approximately 4,376 times:

And then...as if by magic...the train dropped us off right at the zoo. Don't the troops look happy?

And before I forget to mention it--let me just tell you that pushing that double stroller around that zoo was the most exercise I've gotten in about sixteen years. *My* side of the city is quite flat, but the zoo side of the city is not. Think "Cincinnati" or "Pittsburgh" or "Insert Hilly City Of Your Choice Here." So by the end of the day, both Campers and Ziggy got kicked out of their easy seat and had to--oh the torture--walk.

And just when you thought my Story Well was dried up, I've got one more.

Back on the beach (ha! tricked you!) Zig was enthralled with some seaweed that closely resembled rubber. It was huge, and bizarre, and I wanted to take it home and name it. So we were excited to see the same seaweed, Live And In Action at the zoo:

I still don't know that name of it. (Geeks? Help me out?)

More zoo stories and exceedingly lame photos to come.

Bye Bye, Beach

It's time to say "goodbye" to the beach. I've tortured you long enough.

Stepping away...

Okay. Just one last look.

Try not to be sick at the kids in matching shirts.

Focus on the beach.

And get a good look. You won't be seeing any more of it for a while.

Sandy Feet

By the time we stepped foot on the third beach, the boys were rolling in the sand--covering themselves from head to toe.

Wanna take a guess whose foot that is?

Even without buckets and shovels the boys managed to dig halfway to China:

Speaking of China, here's our Princess making her way down the sand-way:

And then holding the hand of her escort:

Trick or treat, sandy feet. Give me some more beach to meet.

I Guess We Saw Enough Sea Lions

Found this one at the beach:

NOT the beach where the microbes were, though. This one was at or near Sunset Bay.

Lots of sand to play in.

Lots of sand in the washer.

Worth it, though, to watch my boys rolling around and having a shockingly good time.

Cape Arago: Part 2

Check out Susie's friends, who won the Cute Award at the beach:

The front view:

Oh, but Suz had to come along and meddle.

"Look! A zipper! I must horn in on her personal space and check it out!"

"Yeeeeep. It's a zipper. Isn't this fun?"

Who needed seashells at the seashore when there were people around?

Pa's Birthday Party, Minus The Party

You know, when you turn 35, the desire to make a little progress on the Bucket List (as in, "kick the") steps into gear. For Pa--that meant ordering lobster. And so the two of us went out to celebrate our old age, and the fact that we could still hold a meaningful conversation without having to pause for a nap.

Though it was tempting.

So we had sampler this and cheesy that, followed up by chowder this and biscuit that. And though we have no pictures of the blessed! quiet! event, this one should suffice:

Then on his actual birth date, we celebrated at home with a little ice cream. And by "little," I am referring only to Pa's portion:

Not sure why some of us are gifted with self-control and others are not.

Moooooving right along.

That ice cream is Dove Irresistibly Raspberry Ice Cream: Vanilla ice cream with raspberry sorbet swirls and original Dove chocolate chunks.

Because I knew that someone would want to know.

Isn't this supposed to be about Pa?

Oh, yes.

This is the 16th birthday we've celebrated together as a couple. Today he's a man with a little less hair, a strong pair of glasses, and a little more snark in his 'tude (which I TOTALLY do not take credit for).

But some things never change:

Funny to the core. A core which also happens to be the same size as it was in college.

(Don't Hate. It's his birthday.)

(And? That is a totally cool trick the candle flame is doing in that last shot.)

(Marvel at my photographic capture.)

Cape Arago: Part 1

We finally got all our coastline piddly dinking done, and met up with our friends. The water called to us again, so we took off to spot some sea lions on the beach.

Seemed like a perfect activity involving five children ages six and under. But! No one was eaten alive, and we all made it down the steep climb with nary a fall. (See: Lilly Falls.)

The view from the bottom:

This was the first beach where the kids could collect shells, and they went at it at full speed:

Meanwhile, there was a stench that kept passing my nostrils. Eventually I assumed someone had been swimming in raw sewage (I love it! I... LOVE... IT!), but come to find out--it was the smell of death--of a nearby sea lion. A dead sea lion so close its microbes were undoubtedly covering the shells in our hands.

Mmmmm.

So once we got back to the van, Pa whipped out the anti-bacterial wipes (smart man) and bathed the kids down.

But! Back to the beach. Suz had a great time running around and playing with the seaweed, and getting close enough to the water to send my heart rate up a good 70 beats per minute.

Ummm, where's all that lying around and relaxing that I see everyone else doing at the beach?

Hello?

Oh wait. I would know how to relax if it came up and gave me lessons itself.

More oceanfront "vacation" to come.

Our Sweet Sweet Princess

You'd never guess who taught her these faces.

Susie pulls these faces out at random. Grocery store, church, or any time we want her to look "pretty."

She's got my number, that's for sure.

Head 'Em Up, Move 'Em Out

About two hours into the little "side trip" we call "aquarium," I was ready to leave. I started giving Pa the I AM DONE, D-O-N-E DONE, AND WE'D BETTER LEAVE IN THE NEXT THREE SECONDS look.

I'm really fun to take along on a trip, as you see.

So we let the kids blow off a bit more steam on some statues before we stuffed ourselves back in the van.

This turtle got us to quoting any number of Nemo lines:

And look! Suz sat still!

And Campers crawled around on the (boring! this is boring!) statues like the Olympic gymnast he consistently pretends to be:

And pretty soon even he was giving Pa the CAN WE GO YET; I AM DONE ALREADY speech.

I train my children well.

Coastal Aquarium

We finally learned that any road trip with kids involves a stop every 27 minutes. Every 30 on a good day. So now we just plan these little "side trips," deceiving ourselves into thinking It's All About The Journey, Not The Destination.

(If you need posters with cheesy sayings? I know who to call.)

So on our way down the coast, we saw the brochures! And the signs! For the best! Aquarium!

What I saw was the price! Of admission! To smell stinky fish!

But The Fun People won out.

You know, I'm gonna start carrying a white flag in my purse.

Yeah, so the kids in the matching red shirts were mine, yada yada yada.

And here they got to watch some swimming beast getting fed, blah blah blah:

And pet the sea anemones and starfish:

And take a gander at the Giant Crab--both IN the cage and standing right behind:

Oh, but I eventually lightened up. I do that roughly five minutes of every day. Keeps the children guessing.

So the aquarium had one of those "shark tunnels" you could walk under and what did we see?

One of those Man Sharks, cleaning the tank. We convinced poor Zig it was a Mer-man. I must have stared and giggled at that poor employee for at least five minutes. Talk about a complex. I'll bet he waves his white flag too.

(Stupid grumble grumble grumble grumble tourists.)

But, we got to blow some money AND some energy at the same time. Now that's what I call a quality vacation.

Death Grip

I'm not namin' any names, but ONE of the members of our family would have run straight into the ocean, head first, had I not held tightly to "her" hand.

Just saying it might have been the Suz.

No Fear...that girl has No Fear.

Devil's Punchbowl

We flew past the sign for Devil's Punchbowl on our recent trip down the coast. Next thing I know, Pa is hollerin' about turnin' around! And stoppin'! And gettin' out to see such a fame-urse site!

So has everybody else heard of this place or am I totally out of touch?

Might not want to answer that.

So this "punchbowl" you see--looks like this:

I guess a wintertime storm is the best time to see the bowl in action, with waves a crashin' all up that natural phenomenon.

Pa and I saw those folks walking around the edge of the punchbowl, took one look at each other and said:

NOPE.

We kept our kids behind the fence and in the stroller, thankyouverymuch.

Lovely little landmark, though.

(Speaking of the waves in the ocean and NOT the ones on my legs.)

(And for those of you who are addicted to scoping out every beach on the Oregon coast--the beach pictures you've seen so far all came from the one right beside Devil's Punchbowl.)

Because Wetness Is Just A Frame Of Mind

First thing Zig and Campers did at the beach was dig in the sand.

(Caveboys... Must... Get... Dirty!)

Then there's that pesky need to wash off.

Such hard work. What a bother.

And once Zig got soaked from the tip of his toes to the pit of his arms, it was time to head out.

Beach Pedicure

This is the kind of toenail polish I can really get into.

Who Me?

Suz: Hmmmm, I wonder what this is?

(squirt squirt)

(lather lather)

"Sope! Sope!"

(hand lotion to be exact)

Just more proof why I get "nothing" done all day.

If We Were Looking For A Wide Open Space, I Guess We Found It

The nice thing about the beaches along the Oregon coast is that there's little competition for space. I mean, it's not like people are rushing to swim in the icy cold water or soak up the rays on a 60 degree day.

So we had plenty of space to run around, and could step back far enough to get a clear panorama of the place:

I had to knock Pa down and snatch his camera to get that shot.

Which left him in charge of the little tornado. Cute little tornado, but a tornado nonetheless.

And since I was the photographer of this mediocre shot, let me just wax picture-ophical about it a bit. Check out those reflections! The pink one of Suz is particularly cute.

This is just the first beach we visited. There are two more.

Consider yourself warned.

This Is A Test. This Is Only A Test.

We interrupt our regularly scheduled obnoxiously long series on Da Beach to bring you this:

I love it that my friend turned a year older and *I* got to go out for dessert.

WITHOUT THE HOOLIGANS.

It's like--I actually tasted my food. And sat still long enough for the calories to take up residence in my butt.

Oh by the way? That dessert is an "almond/hazelnut meringue with a praline butter cream and chocolate ganache."

Try not to drool on your desk.

(This is a test; this is only a test. More reasons to hate me beach pictures tomorrow.)

If You Looked Up "Contentment" In The Dictionary, This Is What You'd See

Our Suz hits the highs and lows of the full emotional spectrum. Bubbles and sunshine one minute; thistles and screams the next. We always know what she's feeling--that's for sure.

And then there's the Mini Me. He may have inherited the toothpick lean and mean body of his paternal predecessors, but he got his personality from me.

Scary.

Our Campers doesn't exactly wear his emotions on his sleeve, is all I'm sayin'. So seeing him all happy and smiley at the coast was something.

His hovering black cloud gave way to the simple delight of discovering a pretty neat part of God's creation:

The beach.

In all its wet and dirty glory.