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.).

Once Upon A Time

... last weekend to be precise ... we had a fun time along strict gender lines.

Briton and Talmage went on the Father n' Sons campout which Briton may wish to write up (or he may not). Now for their photos:







While the boys were roasting marshmallows and such, I hired a babysitter (wait a minute ... I never said Mother n' Daughter ... ) ... and went to book club. That is fodder for a future post -- but to whet your appetite: this book club is the Book Club of all Book Clubs. Not that I've ever been in a book club to compare it to, but I've heard stories...

After book club, I picked up the girls and whisked them to Heidi's house, where they were tucked in bed and then H and S and I stayed up LATE (11:30 pm) playing games. We didn't stay up later because I wanted to get up at a decent hour to run and Stephanie is extra tired because she is p******t and Heidi is in Broadway rehearsals or something. But mostly, I need to say right now that I love those girls and always feel lucky to hang out with them.

The next morning, Abbie watched my kids while I ran. Then I came home and Clara, conveniently, had a nap and so what else could we do but play some more games while the other children ran amok? Exactly.

Came home. Got debriefed on F&S, Briton went running, and then I went to work all night long and worried about preparing a YW lesson for the next morning on zero sleep. Except then at church the other teacher told me she thought she was teaching everybody and so I gladly acquiesced so that turned out to be a good deal.

The end.

Leaping Lamb Farm

Leaping Lamb Farm 2011

This was a most enjoyable weekend. We stayed at the Leaping Lamb Farm and the kids played Gentleman Farmer. They fed the chickens and collected eggs, fed the lambs and horses and played in the hayloft. Scottie, the amiable owner, was really gentle with the kids and interesting to talk to. The setting was as verdant and lush as Oregon gets. We learned Kiwi can be grown even here.

More on the "Super" theme:

Filmed by Talmage.

Super Dates

Starting a few months ago our lives changed. Once a month, alternating months with Dave and Jo, we watch the other couple's kids for 48 hours. Forty-eight hours!!! (EDIT: Briton says it's 36 hours. Either way. But FYI: Did you know 4 out of 3 people have a problem with fractions?) Our first "weekend away" was actually sponsored by Intel -- a fancy party, complete with dinner and an overnight lodge stay. On Day 2, we hiked this trail:




... and appreciated the symmetry of nature

Go Team!

T's First Story. Written on the computer by his own hand.

Silly Cat

cat wus a silly cat but uh oh aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa the cat sgreemd
ther ws a dinosaur cumin to eat him no no no no no no no no no no.

bytalmage

*Editor's note: he asked for help to spell "dinosaur" and format the title. This story cracks me up.

"Wish I was an English Muffin..."

"...ah, South California" (Punky's Dilemma)

We made a quick getaway to the Barlows in San Diego and soaked up some good fun. Many stories to tell, but I'll leave them for later (and for Robin). For now, the photos.

Feedback

Talmage is, generally speaking, an obedient, mild-mannered boy. At the store this morning, though, something went awry and he was swinging fists at me and hollering. We aborted the errand and returned home where he spent some time cooling down in his room.

A little later I found this note:

"I Not Nise"
"MY MOM iS NOT Nise AND I DO NOT LiKE HRE."
"MY MOM IS A BABY" (notice the mad face on the me).

On the back it starts on the bottom with:

"DAD iS fun to ... "AND MOM IS NTO"

"We HAVe the fun in oue (our) hase (house)." [with dad only, I presume].


Later in the evening I asked him about the note and we talked about what happened. Turns out he wrote the note yesterday. Niiiiise. Anyway, I guess it's a complement to be considered a mean mom.

8 Minutes and a Marshmallow

A couple of the young women in our ward replicated the Marshmallow Experiment for their psychology class (they had the kids wait 8 minutes instead of 15. Eight tortuous minutes). They filmed the kids involved, including Talmage.

Here it is on Youtube.

After Clara had eaten her fill of dirt and gagged on various pieces of nature, she was bundled off for a nap, and then the real work began:

Digging for last year's Matchbox cars.

That's right. Throw your back into it:

Over the past two days Talmage has been excavating the dirt pile from the moat with some success. Today a couple cars and one white monster truck that he was specifically looking for (how did he remember it from last summer???) were brought back to the fold.

So Durn Cute

Baby Steps

That table is painted green special for St. Patrick's Day.

Sleeping on top of the heat vent

Why she doesn't just put on clothing to stay warm is a mystery to her mother.

Catfish 2 and 3

Tal and Syd had their last day of swimming lessons. As per tradition, they got to go down the water slide and jump off the diving board...with life jackets. Sydney, after the water slide:


Last time Talmage tried the diving board he was a little tentative. Big improvement this time:



He jumped twice more, belly-flopping each time. He hefted himself out of the pool each time, with red welts on his stomach, crying, but wanting to jump again. Weird.

The Parade Must Go On

On rainy Saturday, T's preschool participated in a St. Patrick's Day Parade. The day before T&S decorated their hotwheels. We even bought a shiny green balloon guaranteed to last a week. Except Sydney was holding the balloon in the van on the way to the parade and took off the ribbon so the helium leaked out. T dragged the limpy balloon behind him anyway. It didn't take long for the crepe paper streamers to look equally sodden so the look sort of meshed.

Here the kids are really rioting it up under the tent while we waited for the parade to start.


Soon, the police motorcade passed by and the parade officially began.



But not before Sydney had complained that she was dying of hunger. I mooched a granola bar off of a more prepared friend and then waited for the candy to supplement. Hillsboro parades might be one long walking commercial rather than beauty queens on crepe-papered-floats, but they sure know how to throw out candy. Kids all along the route come prepared with bags that would make Halloween jealous.

Much better.

Talmage rode his hotwheel almost the whole way: loops, backwards, bursts of speed. He looked like he was having a great time. Finally, just towards the end he abruptly stood up and declared, "I'm done." He pushed Syd in the stroller the final stretch.

I asked the preschool director (over there on the far right) how many referrals they got from the parade initiative. She said not that many. It was fun for us, though. Good exercise, too!

Update

Briton is surely recovering from his long illness. But I knew he still had a ways to go because of this exchange this morning:

Briton: Did we have daylight savings?
Me: Yeah.
Briton: When did that happen!??!
Me: Yesterday.
Briton: Huh!

San Juan Islands

The stage was set: four days in the San Juans with the Wilde's and Taylor's. I'd never been before. Thanks for the invite!


Moral to the story: Everyone should visit the San Juan Islands at least once in their lives.
Corollary moral: Make that "as many times as possible."
Additional morals: People who live in glass houses should not rent them to families with small children (a urine-ified leather ottoman was one casualty).
Subset moral number four and etc: Pessimism wins! If you expect rain and misery, then clear skies and a slightly nippy wind makes your heart sing. (Also, avoid sharing your bedroom with your three children. It will make you say, "What the hell?!" over and over and over through the night.

Some images from the trip:

Getting some Vitamin D.

In her own world: an involved scenario is going on here.

Building a shelter

Below are pics from a hike Talmage and I went on with Karren and Sonya. Cameron and Chris watched Syd and Clara so we could do this. Which I mightily appreciate (Briton was home, working).

T, you sure have beautiful eyes, kiddo.

(Above pic taken by T)

Thneed, anyone?

Looks like a steep cliff, don't it?

Besides playing on the beach at American Camp (where a pig was shot back in the day by the British soldiers and thereby stirred up some trouble) and hiking, we played Dominion, ate good food, I got to know the Taylors better, went on a beautiful run, and met some cool people at church (one family was on a sailboat trip for the weekend).

Time to take the ferry home:




Perfect timing. It just started raining as we left. As if the Islands were sad to see us go. So poetic.

Hardy travelers, all.

Especially me. By "hardy" I mean, I hardly ate anything except sugar in order to stay awake at the wheel.




** Sorry no pics of the Taylors or of the rental, etc. If the other guys post their stuff, maybe I'll add a link here. The camera didn't get much airtime except on that one hike.

By Mrs. Barker. In the Kitchen. With Salmonella.

Before I try to catch up our recent goings on, I need to confess my grievous error.

Yesterday I planned to attend an early evening med-surg lecture. "Dinner's in the crock-pot," I sang out as I waltzed out the door. I was really proud that I'd seen to my house-wifely responsibilities such as preparing a delectable meal even though I wasn't going to be eating it with them. The house was in order (somewhat) and I was off.

Briton informed me when I got home that two bites into dinner he grew suspicious of the CHICKEN's texture. He checked the crockpot setting, which was where I'd originally set it: WARM. Not Low. Warm. And so it had been for the past four hours. The image of bajillions of salmonella buddies basking in the cozy crockpot and inviting all their friends to play, too --- it gives me the jimmies and it gives Briton food poisoning.

I had a pretty good dinner, though. It was catered by some deli. The lecture was about DVT's. So, if Briton ends up in the hospital over this, I'll know just what to do to keep him from getting blood clots. Now that's a really good wife.