Where The Third Child Spends Most Of Her Summer

Stuck in the stroller and schlepped from one Big Brother Event to another.

Don't pity her, though. She loves the excitement.

And, she has also perfected her scream to be let out.

"Buck-uhhhhh!!! Buck-uhhhhh!!!"

(That's "buckle" for the Susie-Speech Deficient.)

At The End Of My Wits, Errr, Oregon Trail

With three kids, we gave up our obsession with "everyone smiling and standing nicely for the picture" and traded it in with "at least one body part of each person is present in the picture."

Look! *I'm* smiling!


So we went to see the end of the Oregon Trail. Here's a map for those who are not able to decipher "Oregon" and "trail:"



It was all so very fascinating, in a geeky sort of way. One presentation had all kinds of goods the folks would have packed for the cross-country trek.


The room was full of people, and get this! When the presenter asked if there were any questions, my son (my son! my quiet, reserved son!) raised his hand and asked a question. I thought Pa was going to pass out from the shock of it all. And the question didn't have anything to do with bodily functions, to which we were greatly relieved.

Speaking of embarrassing one another, I worked hard to humiliate my children:


My parents did it to me. It's only right that I pass that legacy on.

Fortunately, Susie's cuteness made up for the dorkiness of her Ma:


You've already seen Zig and Campers as the little pioneers, but here's a couple more:



And a little gender confusion to add to the mix:


After we'd forced the kids to sit through 18 gazillion presentations, we let them run in the wild:



And then we stuffed our faces, thankful that we didn't have to heat our food over buffalo chips:


Although from the looks on our faces, you'd never know that we weren't eating the buffalo chips ourselves.

And after that rousing finale, we took the weary pioneers and forged a trail towards home.

Knock, Please

"FIVE minutes! Just fiiiiiive minutes! That's all I want!"

There's a party in the potty, even on vacation.

(Photo taken at the End of the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center)

Great. I Blinked.

Anybody remember this one?


That's my baby, six years ago. His smiley face still looks the same:

But someone has taken the pudge from his legs.

And I'd like to have it back.

Gotta Love That Face

Pa caught the Suz on camera this past week:

She is such a character. Full of life and spark and SAKES ALIVE when she starts talking we are All In Trouble.

(She was eating a chocolate chip cookie, by the way. And she really DID like it.)

Hippo Birdie

17 was a good age.

As a matter of fact, I liked it so much I DOUBLED it.

Happy 34th birthday to me. And good gravy, when did I get to be so old?

Every memory I have of my August birthday is of being hot. HOT HOT HOT with a couple sides of HUMID.

Naturally, ice cream must come to the rescue and quench the BLASTED heat.

So it’s not MY fault that I had three large servings of four different flavors. All in one day.

So while you might be praying for a relief from the heat? I FOUND MINE.

Keepin’ cool in the Pacific Northwest.

Smoothie Party

While Pa and Ma Senior were in town, I decided to host a Smoothie Party for the neighborhood. I figured it would be a great way for my parents to meet the folks living around us without them having to stop at each house and introduce themselves.

They'd do that, you realize.

Because they "like" people, and enjoy "talking" with them.

Obviously I got the recessive gene.

Speaking of going bananas, I went a little bit overboard in the amount I bought:

Not that I would ever overdo anything. Noooo, I'm not over-prepared like that.

Recessive gene.

And Campers was kind enough to NUMBER each bunch of bananas for me, so that I could use them "in order."

DEFINITELY THE RECESSIVE GENE.

We had 32 people show up at our party, which was about 25 more than I was expecting. (The seven people I knew would show up were directly related to me. And they don't miss a Food Event fer nuthin'.)

It was a good thing my mom and dad were there, because they can talk to a blank wall and make it want to talk back. And I just delightfully hid behind the blender and grunted an occasional word now and then.

You can read more about how the smoothie party was organized and the recipes I used over at my blog where I "write."

Which is unlike this blog where I mostly "ramble." And show an unorthodox number of pictures of my children. And tell an insane amount of stories of the same.

Yep, that chatty gene? Skipped right past me.

Building The Immunity

On the trolley:

Kept her busy, folks. Kept her busy.

Happiness In A Hammock

There are few people who know how to relax. Goodness knows *I'm* not one of them. But here are two of my heroes:

People who know how to Take It Easy.

Maybe they can give me some lessons.

I Never Promised You A Rose Garden

It finally stopped raining in the Pacific Northwest aaaaand the grandparents came to town. So, that meant Just One Thing:

WE SAW SOME SIGHTS.

This stop? The International Rose Test Garden. Where we smelled a whole lot of--you guessed it--internationals.

Okay, okay, roses.

Speaking of, here's a thorn between two roses:

And a couple of happy grandparents with three kids:

Pa and I should have taken this chance to beat feet and run.

Speaking of running, the boys stopped to smell the roses too turned that beautiful garden into a racetrack.

Sorry, parks and rec.

In the quieter moments they're not that bad:

Pa got to smell the roses too. Only his scents were filtered through the lens of his camera:

That's one of about 18 gazillion flower pictures.

Hey, I never promised you a rose garden.