Westmoreland Asays

Many of the cool web sites publish year-end top-whatever lists: best movies, best albums (do they still make those?), and so on. I want to play with the cool kids, too, so here is my contribution: my 10 favorite photos of the year. Not just any photos: ones that I have taken, because those are the ones that people like you care about the most. What are the rules of this top-10 list, you say? Good question: The photographer must have used one of my cameras The image must be from calendar year 2011 (sorry BucketHead ; you are still my favorite all-time) That's about it. Admit it: most of you are too chicken to leave comments here, but you know you want to participate in this awesome new tradition. Vote for your favorite. A fairy dies every time someone reads an entry and fails to comment, so please think of the fairies as you peruse the Internets this holiday season. 1. Dodgeball Zen Sellwood Middle School hosted a family dodgeball night in February to raise money for

Barren fog  Traditions feel like a natural extension of my personality, as I'm someone who thrives in and enjoys the efficiency of the known. This doesn't hold for everything--Meg and I enjoy trying new restaurants and visiting new places for vacation, and rarely do we re-watch a movie (don't ask we have such a large library of DVDs and VHS tapes). I've been shooting race photographs of the Cable Bridge Run in Tri-Cities, Washington since 2008 , the only other race I've shot continuously except Hood-to-Coast. It's a quick, fun trip; the weather is always unpredictable; I get paid; and it acts like the gateway to Christmas. Brian arrived at my house around 6:45 p.m. Friday. He usually brings his father-in-law to help, but Brian opted to hire his brother-in-law, Brent, instead--also a '93 graduate of McNary, and someone I probably haven't seen since graduation--and we had to drive all the way to Boardman to pick him up. Before this, however, we had

 Rarely do I think to myself, "I have all three boys and no wife around; let's go on a a day trip somewhere!" Riding our bikes to the park or around the neighborhood is one thing, but I hate herding the boys into the van, driving midst their constant back-and-forth insults and jabs against each other, and then trying to keep them in line so we don't get kicked out of whatever place we have chosen to visit. Whether it was inspiration, a softening of my heart for the season, or I inhaled too much moon dust morning , I decided to take the boys to the Alpenrose Dairy in nearby Southwest Portland to visit  Storybook Lane . Daft Punk inspires this kid's robot-enhanced voice We once looked at a house nearly across the street from the Alpenrose Dairy, so I knew how to get there pretty easily, but I had emailed the directions to myself just to be sure, and I gave Aaron my phone and told him to navigate us. In the process he quizzed me why we don't have a GPS de

My buddy and me Being that this was the last full lunar eclipse before the world ends, I wanted to capture the moment for the invading aliens' sake. I left the house just before 6:00 a.m., when the totality of the eclipse began. My premeditated destination was the SE side of the waterfront near downtown, although I had read that the moon might only be visible from a lofty height, as it would be very low on the horizon. As I rode my bike into town, I thought I could see a large and ominous orange glow emanating from the Northwest, but that tease would be all that my eyes would taste of the lunar eclipse. When I reached my destination, I knew I wouldn't have the chance to photograph the moon (although I have had luck with it before ), so I enjoyed the quiet morning (though there were several photographers hanging around the riverfront) and practiced making long exposures with what little morning light had filtered through the fog. I suppose I could have ridden for Counc

I've accidentally started a new tradition with my two oldest boys, which I call Dad's Inappropriate Movie Night . The requirements: Meg is gone, Ian is in bed, and the movie must bear some smidgen of scandal. The inaugural movie turned out to be Pee Wee Herman's Big Adventure, which both boys loved. Installment two was Raiders of the Lost Ark, and two weeks ago it was Napoleon Dynamite, of which Aaron and Ed both agreed that this was their favorite scene (as indicated by Aaron's near asthma-inducing laughter). How does a movie qualify as inappropriate? It could be that the movie deals with subject matter beyond the boys' maturity, but it could also depict geeky stuff that I find funny and which they should not, because they're cooler than me. This past Saturday's viewing was Titan A.E. I remember seeing a preview of this film during The Phantom Menace and being overly excited, as many of my favorite cinematic ingredients appeared to be here: animat

Aaron, Ian, and I took advantage of a rain-free Saturday to hike around Elk Rock Island , an ancient volcano that pokes its big head out of the Willamette River a few miles south of our home. Eddie was partying with his friends at nearby Pietro's Pizza (and Meg was away working at a dance team competition somewhere in rural Marion county), so we took the two hours during the party to enjoy the fresh air and discover a new place. Ian lasted nearly the entire hike on his own two feet, but he eventually pooped out on the last hill to the van. He didn't utter a whimper, and he didn't raise his arms in defeat, like he usually does. It was almost like the cold weather literally froze him in his tracks.

Our neighbor, Jimmy A few weeks ago our neighbor approached us with a petition to shut down our little street so he could sponsor a block party. We had a similar event back in August, but he said something about wanting to have a Civil War get-together or something. Okay, no problem; we're all about having fun. Turns out he just wanted to celebrate his birthday with the whole neighborhood. His date also coincided with a get-together that Meg had set up for Aaron and some of his friends to come over, hang out, eat lots of junk food, and celebrate his birthday. Having the two parties overlap worked out better than expected--they ebbed and flowed with each other, and the mild, rain-free weather made it all the better. Meg had invited about eight boys to the gathering, but we ended up with about twice that because of all the attendance at our block party--which was also helped by the special guest appearance of the sun. The fire burned all day and well into the night I think

Crazy stat: 14 kids, 12 boys Now that both Meg's and my parents have ripped their roots forever from Oregon, we had to find a different way to celebrate Thanksgiving. Meg's sister in Dallas (Oregon) decided to host Thanksgiving, while Meg offered our place for Christmas. I'm the last of the Asays in Oregon, but Meg has two brothers and one sister still around, and her younger brother Paul and his wife drove from Utah to visit, including a couple of days spent with us in Portland. The drive to Dallas took about 90 minutes, and took us through parts of Keizer and Salem, but fortunately no one uttered a desire to return to our former home. Aaron and I wanted to play in the annual soccer game, so we suited up and drove over to a nearby park to join the in-progress game. In the past, when we played in Sherwood, the weather never mattered much because of the all-season turf field at the park across from their homestead; but it had been raining all day, every day for a week-

Meg declared this week her birth-week of celebration and, with tonight being the pinnacle event, we rode the bus into the central city, got off a few stops too early, and walked about 20 blocks through the rain to the Oregon Culinary Institute, a place Meg says she has longed to visit for many years. Upon arrival, an older woman opened the locked door for us, even though we were 30 minutes early. She was with a group of 20 other older women, reminding me of the I Love Lucy bus scene from the movie Rat Race. Meg and I mingled with them for a few brief moments, eliciting much laughter from our sharp sense of humor and ability to play off the audience surrounding us. Meg had forwarded me the menu a few days prior and, even though I didn't understand what the fancy dishes were, I set my expectations pretty low because I have been known to be picky. But I think we both enjoyed our four-course meal, although I donated my appetizer to Meg, but I made up for it by devouring the ext

The older boys decided to be characters from that Harry Potter franchise (Meg made them gowns and scarves), while Ian got the default elephant costume, which Aaron and Ed have both donned, and which Meg adorned with "Mitt Romney 2012" signs , but for some reason removed it after she had taken the boys trick-or-treating for an hour (she thought that would embarrass me). We lived in a different, more central part of the neighborhood last year, which proved to be full of kids pounding the streets for sugary treats. We now live at the northern extreme of the neighborhood, so we had virgin-like territory to visit. Many of the residents were very liberal in letting the kids take handfuls of candy or they passed out non-fun sizes--and one woman literally dumped the rest of her bowl in the boys' bags because she just wasn't getting much traffic at all. All three boys lasted from 6-8:45 without a single complaint, negative word, or put-down to one another--I've never

Meg encouraged me to steal away tonight to see Moneyball, which was playing at the Moreland. She knew I wanted to watch it, and she had no interest, so it was a good win for both of us (she finished making the older boys' Harry Potter-inspired costumes for Halloween). Even though I had to leave during the middle of the USC-Stanford foootball game, I swapped my pajamas for a pair of shorts and walked over to the theater (I don't get out much on Saturday's so why bother changing my clothes?). Before I left my parents' house a century ago, baseball was my world. Getting cable as a kid was great because I was guaranteed a game a day (even if it was the Atlanta Braves)--and I would watch every one, even those that went 23 innings or whatever. I watched one game this year--and just this week: game 7 of the World Series, and it wasn't even the whole game. I played throughout my youth, but I haven't stepped onto the field since I was a senior in high school, and I don

Aaron and Eddie's Aunt Angie (recently promoted from "fake aunt") treated them to a day on the town, including tickets to the Portland State football game Saturday afternoon. They didn't last the whole game, but at least they got to see two blocked punts. I welcomed the break, as I needed some quiet time at home to rest. Later, while taking in lunch at a nearby McDonald's, the following conversation happened (at least the gist of it, as reported by Angie): Angie : What animal would you choose to be? Aaron : I'd be a turtle. They live a long time and seem to live a slow, relaxing life. Eddie : I would be a cow because then I could drink my own milk. Angie : That's kind of gross. Pick something else. Eddie : A hermit crab! Please offer up your analysis on these choices in the comments.

Grandma and Grandpa Booren are leaving their home of 17+ years to move to the East Coast, so they threw a going-away party of sorts for their kids and grand kids. The location: Great Wolf Lodge , about 100 miles north of Portland. Fortunately, they also let me tag along (of course they did; they have openly accepted me as one of their own from the very first time I met them, which took place before I had even begun courting their baby daughter). Only two of the four families still residing in Oregon were able to make it, which was nice for us because it allowed for our boys to spend more individual time with their grandparents. It's Like a Dream Come True for a Little Boy Anyone else see my mullet hiding in the back? I'm not sure how to describe Great Wolf Lodge. It's part resort, part indoor water park, part hotel--but all of its parts are definitely geared towards making money (it ain't for those hoping to have a good time on the cheap). When we arrived we were

Meg began a project three or four years ago, one that seemed to linger on and on without an end in sight. Nobody knows for sure of its origins, but it definitely hatched before Ian was seeded. Not that I have any room to brag, as I have clearly failed to complete many a task (e.g., running the Boston Marathon despite qualifying three times, earning that scholarship to Stanford to play baseball (I still have four years of eligibility), and writing an episode for The Simpsons) that I had set out to do oh so long ago. But this story isn't about me. As part of a father's day gift, Meg had offered to make a quilt out of my old race t-shirts. I was impressed with her bravery at such an undertaking, for I would race in said shirts, which soaked up my sweat and foul stench and the blood of the rivals I crushed, and which I would then immediately strip off and store in an air-tight plastic bag, thus preserving the physical essence of my over-achieving effort. I admit that that last se

Meg was so anxious to kick off summer vacation and excited to have the boys home all day every day that she booked us a hotel room in Newport the day after the boys finished school in June . I told her this new-found excitement would last about a week (she probably blew me off, but I can't remember what happened three hours ago, let alone three months), and then she would be longing for September and school. I think the later proved to be true, but maybe not until a few weeks. Well, September finally arrived, and the two of us walked Aaron and Ed to their first day of classes. Aaron could probably pass for a fifth grader, but he is stuck in third grade. And Ed began life as a full-time student in the first grade ( but don't expect this full-time status to last forever ). We arrived 10 minutes early to a chaotic crowd that felt like the Rose Garden on Blazers bobblehead night: people were swarming everywhere. When the bell finally rang--the official notification that kids

Today was one of my six company-observed holidays, and our family took advantage of this and the sunny weather. The day began with Ian sitting happily in the bike trailer for 50 minutes while I ran 5.5 miles through quiet and cool city streets in SE Portland (the sun had yet to rise high enough to bake us). After lunch we, along with Aaron, went on a 10+ mile bike ride along the Springwater and the Willamette Greenway trails, with stops at Sellwood Pool (it was the last day we could use our membership, and it was PACKED), where we met up with Meg and Eddie, and Dairy Queen for cool treats. Ian napped for part of the bike ride, as he usually does, and a lady complimented Aaron on his good cycling skills. In the evening we grilled some thick and juicy steaks and some hot dogs on the back porch, which stays pretty cool for most of the day, in addition to some edamame picked fresh from our garden. Perhaps the best part was putting the kids to bed early, as school starts promptly at

The last weekend in August means Hood-to-Coast time. 2011 marked the the sixth time I've participated; you can read about my past experiences here: 2006 , 2008 , 2009 , 2010 (I competed for the first time in 2004, but I have no good, written record of it). This event squeezes out the creative juices in me--some of my best posts are memories from HTC--almost to the point where I feel like my proprietor is paying me to blog the event, not to photograph the participants, because I need photos to supplement the crazies I encounter on the course. I drew the same assignment as last year: legs 5 and 35. Leg 5 always feels like torture because of the closeness to vehicles traveling at speeds fast enough to escape the earth's gravitational pull--including many semi-trucks hauling hay to the cows in the Willamette Valley--but this year was especially bad because I had to endure two hours of morning rain. The logging road that has been used in the past for leg 35 was being used for log