Oregon

Multnomah Falls. Mike assures me that this photo is a bit of an illusion. My sweet punkin is NOT actually about to topple off to his death. There is supposedly a long ledge behind him. I was in the gift shop recovering from a long hike with some retail therapy so I am not responsible for this lovely, if terrifying, shot.




Right after this hike I decided to take up jogging.

We took a gorgeous hike in the Rogue Valley as well. Mama was huffin and puffin and vowing to take up jogging immediately if not sooner by the time we reached the top. Darn kids practically ran the entire way, and 21 year old Aunt Sarah was also making me look bad. But it was so worth it and I would love to have a spot like that near me. Right after I take up jogging.

We were so close to the coast that it seemed silly to not go. Unemployed we may be. But we have Holiday Inn points to spend, and Mo's World Famous Chowder House was calling our names. So...we took a weekend vacation.

It's the responsible thing to do.

Uhhh, yeah, there is no illusion in this one. They ARE rather close to toppling off the cliff which pretty much gave Sarah a coronary. Which made them want to get even closer to the edge. Which made her want to throw up. Which made them scoot closer. Which made her smack em and chase them back down the mountain. While I lugged my booty ever farther behind and promised myself to take up jogging.

Anna running from the icy waves.

My baby girl.

After a day of vacationing, there's only one thing to do: pass out on the hotel bed.

Yaquina Head lighthouse. 114 steps to the top.

I am taking up jogging.

A bat ray at the aquarium. A good place for Mike to sing the entire four trillion verses of the B52s Rock Lobster as we wandered through.

Muggin' for the camera.

There are also fish under the glass on the floor. So of course the proper way to view them is to throw yourself prostrate on it and graciously allow everyone else to walk over the top of you.

If anyone knows a surefire way to get a shot of three kids with smiles and open eyes and no bunny ears or sticking out tongues or fingers up their noses ALL AT THE SAME INSTANT, I am open for suggestions.

What is it with me and shots from the back? I just find them ever so artsy.

Yes, of course we all sang "Yellow Submarine."

He's special.

I was going to include a couple shots of my brothers, who I also got to spend some time with, but once again, I can not get a single shot with out bunny ears, crossed eyes, and nose picking, and they're in their 40s, not their terrible twos. Thanks, buttheads.

Back in Idaho now and if we don't have some good news, in the form of employment, soon, then I will start charging you all money to read this blog. But you wouldn't pay and then I'd get depressed and start eating too many Cheez-its and that would directly affect the stellar results I am about to see from practically, almost, thinking about taking up jogging.

Date night

Yesterday husband mine and I decided to sneak out and do some much needed, overdue, and desperate homeschool planning/scheduling. In case you haven't noticed, we have been homeless for 3 months now, and occasionally the stress of trying to educate these here chitlins have made me a little stressed. Maxed out. Frustrated. Itching to chew off some one's face. You know the feeling. Anywho, after a day of wanting to eat my young, Mike saw my frustration and despondency and also noticed that his children take about eight billion times longer to write a report than is logically necessary, seem to retain any and all knowledge of math facts for about as long as guacamole stays green, and have a strange knack for using their school supplies as forts or weapons or anything other than what they're meant for, he offered to be a love and help me plan out a better schedule. What follows is a typical date night for a dozen year married couple who are unemployed (in Greenland) and living on people's goodwill and couches, who have three offspring who are there every time they turn around, and whose names rhyme with Ike and Clarissa. Ok. Maybe it's just us. But this is how it goes for us.




Wifey is looking a little haggard. A little twitchy. A little like her face might open up to reveal a fire breathing shrew at any moment. Better take Wifey out without the company of little angels. Better do it right now. Better not even take the time to put on shoes. For the love of God, man, HURRY!

It's raining in southern Oregon, and dark. Turn the wrong direction. Wifey doesn't miss a beat and points it out. Head to a dollar store to buy a day planner with which to plan our schedule. Can't find a dollar store. Finally find a dollar store a half hour later. Doesn't have any day planners. Wife begins to snarl. Well, Walmart has everything, right? Let's go to Walmart. Found the Walmart. Can't find the school supplies/office section. Circle the entire store 3 times, while Hubby groans something about the word shopping, uttered in a lifeless, hopeless mutter. Wonders if he has been suckered. Was this all a plan of Wifey's? An evil genius plan to get Hubby to, gulp, shop? Was the bra section next? The cosmetics aisle? God forbid, the feminine products section? Hubby tries to slink away out an emergency exit. Oh good, there's the office supplies. They were right where it should have been and where we had passed it 3 times. One time we were standing right next to as we complained about the lack of it's existence. Pick out $5 day planner and a pack of forty #2 pencils (which will be misplaced in less than the time it takes to sharpen them). Pick out a checkout line. Picked out the wrong line. Oh so wrong. So very, very wrong. As Christmas came and went and we aged approximately 12 years, we slowly edged up in line. Of course the other lines moved along smoothly but every time we considered switching something (was it hope? optimism?) pulled us back in. Finally, and I do mean finally, it was our turn and we pay and head back with our walkers and canes to the parking lot which by this time is empty of everything but one lone minivan with Wyoming plates and a tumble weed. Now, we think, comes the fun part! The part where we head to a coffee shop and plan out the future of our tiny scholars. Turn the wrong direction. Get stuck in a parking lot trying to turn around but everywhere we turn we find curbs and one way streets going, of course, the wrong way. Wifey snits (that's what you do when you're in a snit) and Hubby wishes he remembered his blood pressure medication. Eventually find coffee shop. It's closed. Head back to tiny scholars with no new flawless plan to forward their education. Hope they don't mind. Hope it won't all come out on a shrink's couch someday that their parents spent minuscule amounts of time teaching them improper fractions and lots of time watching Lost and drinking.

This one's for the ladies

As you all know, my peeps and I are rabid Bon Jovi fans, so here's the best of the best of the photos of our opening night concert in Seattle. The higher quality ones are from Mariah, who should probably just quit her completely unimportant job as a social worker and take up rock star photography which is really what the world needs more of anyway.


Here's us looking all glam before hand. Ok, ok, basically we slapped on extra mascara and put on earrings, but still. When you're 30 something house wives, this is as glam as you get. And poor Mariah had a practically broken back from falling down stairs that morning, a bruised up elbow, and a wicked case of food poisoning. Still smiling! That's my girl.

Here's the posse... If Kelly looks contemplative it's because she was writing The Sequel to The Movie in My Head. This movie (in her head) involved a lot of strange happenings, like as we walk down Pike Place a mysterious limo slows down and kidnaps us and lo, the inhabitants are Bon Jovi. The night was spent with random musings, and sometimes shoutouts, of
'In the movie in my head...!' etc etc etc.
She should probably write a blog.
She could call it The Movie in My Head, by Kelly. Dot blogspot.com
But frankly, I don't want the competition.

The Yssa Sisters. Look out Seattle!

And now...onto the good stuff...

Ahhh, so passionate about the songs...that's why we were there, the songs.

Of course.

Ahhhh, big dreamy sigh...

How cute is this? Two best buds who've playing music together for 30 years, poundin' it.

We were hoarse by the end.

Did I mention this post is for the ladies?

You.

Are.

Welcome.

We were kinda hatin' all these lucky ducks who got to be so close. He was singing "Hallelujah" here, which, if you haven't heard him sing it, please download now.

Really.

I'll wait.

Crazy piano playin.

For the #2 Sexiest Man Alive (that's for you, snooky), sometimes he does a dorky chicken dance.

And now back to your regularly scheduled blogging.

Lythia Park in Medford, Oregon is a nice place to be in February. We had just been dive bombed by a herd (pack? litter? flock?) of hungry, greedy ducks.


Homeschooling even while on the road. Anna put to good use the boiled up remains of a turkey dinner. Here are all the bones all nicely labeled and drying out. I think she may be one of those uber cool lady forensic scientist or something. She'll probably get her own tv show. Maybe an action figure.




I'm not kidding; Lythia Park has some of the fattest, shiniest, most perfect looking duckies you will ever see. The look like Disney cartoons.




Here's Gramma Nancy on her 85th birthday. She's being all goofy with Cora as they munch on curly ribbon. Oddly enough, this was before she got out the brandy and shot glasses. This girl cracks me up. We heart you, Gramma Nancy!

The girls would like to be duct taped to their Auntie Sarah's side for all of eternity. Sarah lets them sleep with her, takes them to the mall, the movies, shares her earrings, and makes them banana splits bigger than their heads. She works at an ice cream shop, so basically she's the bomb. And the sweetest person on planet earth.

While staying at the Chateau Shafer, there was a whole lotta gymnastics going on. Can you tell Cora just is soooo over it?

Sometimes my camera disappears and when it comes back to Mama there are all sorts of odd photos on it I don't remember taking...

Anna and Aly turn 8 and 5, respectably. I love how Aly is watching Anna.

At the Takashige household I just couldn't resist (not that I tried to) taking this photo of two cute morning people. Note their coffee and laptops and synchronized face shielding from the paparazzi.

At the High House, Gramma reads to her youngest grandchildren. Kary really is thrilled we're back and willing to share Gramma with Gianni. Really. She hides it well. Behind a face of annoyance and frustration. Gianni's Oregon cousin, Aidin, pretty much feels the same way about him. Aidin and Kary may be a match made in toddler heaven.

There's a lot of this happening in our lives right now. Which is nice. Lovely. Because when it's not like this, there's a lot of screaming and hollering and bouncing and munching and noise.

There's a bit of snow in Idaho City. Makes for supreme sledding conditions. That speck of black? Cora.

This is the scene of a crime. I challenged Cora to a snowball fight, and it was epic. She took the time to make her snowballs ahead of time and stacked them on her sled. Then things got ugly. The great big one? It's called The Grand Finale. In spite of that, I so totally won.

The girls got snow shoes for Christmas. They're quite fun. And it burns calories. Like 600 an hour! Can you see the fat just melting right off me?!

It's easier with walking sticks. Also helpful if you get bored and want to practice Jedi fighting skillz.

Oh my gosh! Guess who gave up the binky? This was tragically harder on Mommy than it was on Moose. He promptly forgot about it. I still remember it fondly and with a sad sniffle.

Milo found the holidays to be exhausting, what with all the lying around and eating and such. Fortunately, he has the rest of his life to recover from the stress. Remedy: lying around and eating and such.

So, we're several weeks out of Wyoming, and still as homeless as ever (no, honey, that was not a dig on you - don't be sensitive, pumpkin). We've spent time with all the people we missed and who allegedly, missed us. In fact, they desperately want to miss us again, I do believe... but now we just don't leave. The kids are amazingly flexible, thank goodness, and Mike goes to bed at night seeing job applications floating in front of his dried out eyeballs. We take up a lot of space wherever we go, so thank you to everyone who's been putting up with us. Hopefully, life will get back to a normal routine someday soon, because I know you've all missed my posts about humdrum things like paper towels. I don't have paper towels anymore. Because I don't have a kitchen. Again, honey, not a jab at you. Next stop: Washington. Did someone say Bon Jovi concert? Don't mind if I do!

Farewell to the cowboy state!

I'm high on Sharpie fumes from all the packing, so this may be nothing but photos, but here is the last Wyoming blog. I know when speaking of Wyoming, I tend to get snarky, but I'll behave myself today and just show you some of my favorite parts of the last 18 months here in Cheyenne. It's a beautiful place, full of beautiful people, and we had a great time with our Wyoming Experiment!

This is Devil's Tower, and one of our favorite places and trips we took.



Old Faithful...thar she blows!





Yellowstone National Park. Uh, obviously. In case you can't read. But then you wouldn't be here.




This was in April...oh wait, I said no snarkiness. Maybe she's looking for Easter eggs?

Ok this dog lives on the roof here in Cheyenne. In all kinds of weather. He's up there.

Nothing really to do with Wyoming, but here is Gianni at the age of just barely two, after he made himself toast. Literally made it himself. 1. Took the bread out of the box. 2. Carried across the kitchen to the toaster. 3. Toasted it. 4. Buttered it with knife. 5. Got a plate. 6. Ate it. Don't forget this all involved being much shorter than the counter.

Our favorite neighbor in the history of neighbors: Lillie-Ann. We're sticking her in a box with airholes.

Close-up of doggy. Almost had Anna convinced it was a reindeer last year.

This is outside our church building.

Know what this is? Well, do you? Don't feel bad, neither did I. It's for hanging up your cowboy hats of course.

Again, not really anything to do with Wyoming, but here is Gianni potty training his stuffed gorilla.

The best part of being a girl is the sleep overs. The best part of the girls being of a certain age, is that Mommy and Daddy can go to bed at a decent hour and they can pop their own corn, take themselves to the bathroom, find their own sleeping space, work the tv by themselves, and generally stay up all night unsupervised. Unless their parents are reading this, in which case, they were never unsupervised.

Well, in a nutshell, and without photos of the cool windmill farms, uber cool thunder and lightening storms that you can see coming from miles and miles and miles away due to there being no pesky mountains in the way, and other great things about Wyoming, that was our year in the cowboy state. Thanks for reading, guys. I'll be back someday.