Rockin' Rock Climber

I keep trying to stunt his growth, but my near-seven-year-old insists on Being A Big Boy.

Here he is, all strapped and ready to climb a wall:

Funny. I climb the walls every day and you don't see ME wearing a helmet and safety straps.

Ahem.

Campers, waiting in line:

And climbing the wall.

The climbing wall that he is juuuuusssssstttttt barely heavy enough to be allowed to climb.

He didn't get those bird legs from me, I'll tell you that.

The Effect Of The Olympics

Campers:

Zig:

And Coach Pa:

I'm just grateful we made it through the 2008 Olympics with nary a trip to the ER. We've certainly brought new meaning to the phrase, "home gym."

And over the next four years? I'm lobbying for chess to be an Olympic sport.

Backyard Camping

What's more fun than backyard camping? Writing about backyard camping. And that's just what I did.

Check out the latest article at KATU.com.

(And marvel at the corresponding large photos, taken by You Know Who.)

The Falls, Take Two

Because there was fun to be had and beauty to be seen, we dragged the Ma and Pa Senior up to see another waterfall. The same day. Right after the infamous "Lilly Falls."

Our mercies? Are new every millennium.

But look! She's standing! That counts, right?

Wahkeena Falls isn't too far from Multnomah Falls, and it has a great place for the kids to freak their ever-loving mother out get close to the water.

Pa Senior assured me he had Full Control of the situation.

You know how I love to give up control.

Amazing, they all stayed dry and had fun and went on to climb up another hill.

"Oh! Hey everybody!"

I had a Death Grip on the girl up this hill too. By the time we were done, Pa had to unclasp my vice-like grip from the Suz.

Bless her heart, she is a woman full of adventure.

And so is her Ma, who dragged everyone up the hill, and Ma Senior, who chose to fall down one.

Party on.

See Ruby Falls

While the Ma and Pa Senior were here, we dragged them up to see Multnomah Falls. When I rounded the corner and first saw the falls, I gasped from the beauty of it all.

Speaking of gasping, the Seniors stopped to take a break up the hill. They muttered something about "picture" and "grandkids" or some nonsense like that.

Obviously there was no lack of fun. Don't let the Campers fool ya with his stoic expression. His excitement was on the inside. Or maybe he simply had a reasonable fear of sitting on the edge of a tall precipice.

Speaking of excitement, I dragged Little Miss Suz up the side of the mountain with her mightily pulling away from me the whole time.

That girl wanted to run. But being a somewhat caring mother, I wouldn't allow her to roll down the side of the cliff.

And you thought I had no compassion at all.

So on the way down the mountain, my Gracious And Unselfish Mother offered to take a turn being the Human Leash. And in all the drama of caring for Little Miss Busy, Ma Senior missed a big bump in the trail and fell flat on her face (belly, arms, legs) herself.

And if you think she found any compassion in the Pa Senior, Pa, or me? Well, you mighta outta wanna say a prayer for the three of us. It don't get more crotchety than us.

"Get up! Yer blockin' the trail!"

But we did make sure her bones were intact and the oozing was contained.

And at that point, we did what we do best:

Started making jokes.

My poor mother.

We eventually renamed the falls to "Lilly Falls," which even the kids thought was a hoot. And like those great signs plastered all around Ruby Falls in Chattanooga, Tennessee, we thought we'd create a marketing scheme ourselves: "See Lilly Falls."

Ah-har, ah-har, ah-har.

Not quitting our days jobs, if you're wondering.

So the falls were lovely, especially on a summer day where it wasn't raining in the Pacific Northwest. But to compensate for the lack of moisture, the Suz and I stood right by the fall and soaked up some water:

The falls were stunning. Both of them. We gave Ma Senior a 15.625. And then we dragged her off to another waterfall. More on that later.

"...our compassions, they fail not..."

The Food, It Always Sits Still And Looks So Happy

If Pa ever gets tired of his work ala non-profit, he could always do food photography:

If this doesn't make you want to RUN TO THE STORE and make miniature fruit pizzas, I don't know what will.

And that's the down side to incredible pictures of food. The weight gain.

Shhhh...I hear some leftovers calling my name.

(Recipe note: I leave the glaze off the top. Because I am streamlined and cheap and don't want the extra sugar.)

An Olympic Event

For Michael Phelps, life is just eat, sleep and swim. I can relate to that. I eat, sleep, and have a swimmingly good time sacked out on the couch.

It's where I do my best eating. Which with these games, is becoming an Olympic sport in itself.

The best part of having an Olympic addiction is sharing it with others. My cousin, for starters. Here he is with three very rowdy athletic supporters:

See those trendy Olympic shirts? They're straight from the Mother Land. I flew all the way to China to buy those Shirts Of Exceedingly High Quality. Did you know that when I wash them, they insist on sharing their colorful love with all that is around them?

Even after the 487th load?

Speaking of laundry-creating hooligans, here are the boys getting prepped to make their "miniature fruit pizzas:"

Are you marveling at my fruit bowls? Which represent the FIVE OLYMPIC RINGS?

Blue - - Black - - Red
Yellow - - Green

Blueberries - - Black grapes - - Strawberries
Pineapple - - Kiwi

(Because I knew someone would ask.)

And although Ziggy (4) informed me that "he didn't want any of that healthy fruit on his cookie," I had no trouble loading it up on mine:

(We interrupt this post to apologize for the "One Side Flipped Up, The Other Side Laid Flat" Hair Issue. It's got problems, okay?)

And if gorging on fruit pizza wasn't enough, here's the Suz just waiting to scald her hands on taste The Pizza Decorated With The (What Else!) Olympic Rings:

I love the Olympics. The excitement, the food, the fun. The excuse to let 439 other things slip for a few weeks every couple of years. The Great Mood I'm in from staying up too late every night.

Bliss.

Reading Between The Lines

These feet have tickled me all summer long:

They've captured our stories--playing at the park, going on walks, riding our bikes:

Looks like those feet had a great summer, out in the sun.

My wrist nodded in agreement:

Those pudgy hands and feet won't be so tiny once the tan lines disappear.

But for a moment--we held hands, and delighted in "summer."

Coolin' Off

Temps have been in the triple digits the past few days. Scorching heat is practically unheard of in the Pacific Northwest, except for a handful of days each year.

Here the boys cool off in the neighbor's sprinkler:

We are all about using their resources to our best advantage.

And now it's back in the 70s for the rest of the week, so I can start thinking something other than:

"IT'S HOT."

This Little Ziggy Went To The Market

The Zig and I like to take the bus together to the market. Here he is waiting for it to arrive:

And with his find at the market:

Someone, stop the Scrumptiousness (and I'm not talking about the fruit):

But I'm biased. And he won't always have these small, pudgy hands, so I have to brag about them while I can:

Sweet, sweet Zig.

(And the cherries were good too.)