Book Review: The Fierce Bad Rabbit by Beatrix Potter

Synopsis: A nice, gentle rabbit is eating a carrot his mother has given him when, all of the sudden, a fierce bad rabbit takes it! The nice rabbit runs away to a hole, and watches abjectly, while the bad rabbit snarfs down the carrot. Where is justice? How will it be served?

Enter:


This is Sydney's favorite book of late. A blood-and-guts story, rife with rifles, flying whiskers, and turned-up tails. The perfect bedtime story.

A memorized rendition.

It's all relative.

image from Cafe Press, obviously.

Last year two relatives, namely Rick and Heather, trained for an Ironman (which event Rick completed and Heather would have if she hadn't been run over --- but also, btw, a couple weeks ago, after recovering from forced immobility, she successfully completed a 1/2 ironman. But, I digress). With that in mind, Briton and I ran a little marathon last Saturday -- the Seattle Rock n' Roll -- a mere cool down for an Ironman.

We stayed with good friends in the area, who also watched our kids during the race. I know. Nice. But I learned not to say "thank you" -- I tried and they were all offended that I would stoop to such formalities. :).

Back: Dinesh, Dinesh's parents, Anu, Rishi (age 2)
Front: A motley crew

It's fun to arrive at the starting line together and wish the best of luck (and not to break a leg) and a share a quick peck before parting ways: Brit to Corral 2 and me to Corral 22 (via a long walk back to the bag drop and a long wait in the porta potty line. It's all casual at the back of pack -- we didn't cross the starting line until 33 minutes after the elite runners).

This was a ROCK N' ROLL-garage band-psychedelic-crazy-hype-up-the-crowd kind of marathon. Bands stationed approximately every mile, high school cheerleaders in various states of undress, supportive crowds cheering, etc. Except there was a short section along the waterfront that decried all those shenanigans: there were pictures of servicemen who died in Afghanistan posted on short pickets. Each poster included their name, age, and date of death. Several pictures were young fathers holding their newborn babies or young children. The average age of all these men was probably early 20's. Sadness. A runner next to me said, "Well, that puts it all in perspective." Following the posters were people standing with American flags cheering for the runners. For us? I wonder if each person at a flag was a family member of one of the people who died. And I thought, "No, this is all backwards. We should be thanking you. Cheering for you. Your race is much longer and harder." Relativity.

Anyway. That was very emotional.

A half mile up the road a punky band put pep back in the pack. But I don't think I'll ever forget that emotion.

Moving on, if you're still with me.

Around mile 7 or something, there were signs announcing "Split Ahead" -- a guy with a megaphone kept repeating "Full to the right. Half to the left." The marathon course took us across the Washington Bridge (scenic and I love bridges - so this was a hit for me) and the 1/2 marathon course went somewhere else. It was comical to approach that split with that guy. I mean, this event had 26,000 runners/walkers and we were coming at this juncture in droves. Like a pack of rats running from a flood. And then the split happens and I wondered if that's what Judgement Day will be like: "Sheep to the right. Goats to the left." Not that there's anything wrong with the 1/2 marathon, mind you. Don't get yer gander up. OR your dander.

A cool thing I saw was a girl running with a blind guy. She held a long PVC pipe in each hand and the guy was running behind her, holding onto the PVC pipe.

A cool thing Briton saw was an abandoned roll of duck tape. His knee was killing him. The pain was so bad he was thinking he'd have to walk the rest of the course -- or hobble or something -- and then go under the knife! -- surgery possibly -- or at least cutting up his shirt so he could brace his knee. But instead, yea, like unto manna from Heaven, he sees this roll of duct tape sitting on the highway barrier and is able to make a brace. Like MacGyver!!!! And then he qualified for Boston anyway. I think his speediness and brains are very sexy.

The end of the marathon was a pain. There were two up and backs along the Alaskan Highway. Those are hard when you're at mile 17 and you look across the barrier and there's mile 21 staring at you. So close. And yet, so far. The Space Needle was around there somewhere to look at but I didn't see it. I was looking at the asphalt. Some Gu at 22 (or whereever) perked the system up for a bit. I stopped to stretch out some tight muscles a couple times, and after mile 24, when I stood up, the 4:30 pacer zipped by me and I was like, "What the...!?!?!?!?!?" I was so close to finishing under 4:30 that I didn't want to give it up. So I slogged after him and was able to squeeze out just enough energy to cross the finish line around 4:26. I know. Super cute!

Image courtesy of Intel, an Expo vendor

Brit and I hadn't talked about where to meet up. I staggered through the recovery chute, a saint tied a foil blanket around me, and then wandered to Letter "B" in the family meeting area figuring that was as likely a place as any to meet him. I collapsed on the ground and then heard this guy talking about how he was in the hospital last week, ....., wondered who would be so crazy as to run a race after being hospitalized and saw that it was a guy from our ward (who, incidentally, was talking to Briton - so problem solved). Who has cancer. The guy. Not Briton. Anyway, he (the guy) has been through rounds and rounds of chemo. And just ran a 1/2 marathon! That is super impressive to me and beyond cute.

And that's the story. You're still here????

Next up? 3 days of guilt-free rest!!!! I love week zero. Then, a festive July 4th Freedom Run, Hood to Coast, and then just tonight, on a whim decided to join Headuh and Rick and his son for the Richmond Marathon in November.

The end.

June 23

They say it's your birthday. Click here for footage.

Last Day of Preschool

A note to his teacher, Miss Arlene:
Thank you for tehten me
I love the thegs that you tehting
me
Love TALMAGE


Here is a story that was in the Journal his teacher is holding.

All About Me
I like to eat soup.
My favorite colors are all the colors.
A friend at preschool is Jake and Matthew.
A fun thing to do at school is building.
When I grow up I'm going to be an engineer because I want to ride on trains.

I think it's cool how Talmage wrote colorful letters and also expressed gratitude for the world of wonder his preschool teachers opened up to him. There will be many good people that will teach him over the years. I don't know who they are yet, but I am grateful for them.

Submit a "Cap"-tion, Please

Father n' Daughter Campout

It followed on the heels of the Father n' Sons. I'd never heard of a F-D campout before. But it's a briiiiiilliant idea. Briton and Syd grew closer together with that rare, extended 1:1 time.

Sydney looked forward to riding in "The Truck" with dad to Champoeg State Park.
The campground was pretty posh. Level, manicured lawns. Showers. That sort of stuff. The amenities one would expect for our Delicate Flowers.


Someone brought a hammock. Syd and Sonya goofing around:
Syd loved gazing into the fire that night and eating hot dogs, cheetohs and marshmallows. :).

Rise and Shine!!! Syd slept in and missed breakfast with everyone else.

After packing up, they walked down to the river to toss in rocks and also went on a bike ride.

They took a break at the Butteville General Store and chatted about this n' that over a bag o' peanuts. Well, specifically they discussed trains. How Syd wanted to drive them when she got older.
On the ride home Syd revealed how strong "Letter" is ("Letter" is the name of her blankie). Letter can lift buildings and cars. She kept Briton awake with rhyming games: "What rhymes with water? Bater!" And when that got old, improved (how is that spelled???) songs as only Sydney can.

Briton wrote a tender, personal letter to Sydney about the weekend; something he can give her when she gets older. So, Syd ... if you're reading this and don't know about Dad's letter to you ... this is a clue.

When the Bomb Hits...

...Don't give me no wheat, no wheat. Don't give me no beans, no beans. Just give me Adam's PB, oh yeah. Just Adam's PB [sung to the tune of a Girls' Camp classic].

I knew our family consumed a lot of PB. But I was curious about the exact rate of consumption. So I started a little scientific test, as evidenced above. That's an 80 oz jar of PB. The new jar was opened on May 27. And that's why we have a Costco membership.

What's the number one consumed item in your home?
The one that will make quarantine possible/bearable/non-glum?

Hellyeah Write-up Part I and II

May I point out the obvious?

Someone's calves are the same size as someone else's quads.


Last Saturday Brit and I ran the Helvetia 1/2.
Here's the write-up from our H2C blog:

Part I:
The Helvetia Half. Our backyard run. We've wanted to run this race for several years - especially since it's so close to home. Why run the backroads for free when you can pay money? The stars aligned this year -- our marathon training called for a 12 miler on this exact date. We signed up, the Farrer's watched our kids, we biked to the starting line (zooming pass all those people walking from the Intel parking lots ... suckers!), the sky was overcast, the rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner induced tears, and I stuffed my pockets with free post-race Cliff Bars. Oh! And the run was fantastic. We had fun and ran a good race. Like Paul.

Part II:

Bona fide finisher medals. Briton even won a third place ribbon. A white one ... like the kind you get at Field Day in elementary school. Except this race warn't no child's play. He had to burn past a guy barfing his guts up to earn it. (It's okay ... it wasn't a Good Samaritan scenario. The guy was likely in a different age category...pretty sure.).