Westmoreland Asays

Since nobody (non-literally) voted on my photos for 2011 , I have declared myself a dictator and will make the decision for you in 2012 (you can blame this on Obama, since everything he touches or influences suddenly becomes an evil socialist). Here's my year in review via my favorite photos. 1. "The Clowns of Crystal Springs" (January) Edward and Ian get along really well, and they both know how to communicate with the camera. Nice days in January are rare for the Willamette Valley, so we took advantage and rode to Crystal Springs Rhododendron Gardens for a quick outdoor activity. Ian was sporting a broken wrist, so he got to ride in the bike trailer. 2. "9-Year Old Commits to play Linebacker at BYU in 2020" (February) We have an OMSI membership and visit the museum with some regularity. Aaron and I rode our bikes there on what must have been a non-raining Saturday. I think he was experimenting with some different chemicals in the museum

In October Meg and I discussed how to spend the few vacation days I had remaining. She wanted to go on an overnight trip somewhere nearby. Without kids. Meg found a family in the neighborhood, who also have three boys that line up in age very well with ours, who was willing--perhaps even eager--to take them for two days. We set a date in mid-December after school let out, and all we had to do now was decide upon a destination. Sacramento popped up first on Meg's wishlist. Why? Because we could fly there for free. That's not a good reason to go somewhere, but I was willing. Astoria (northern Oregon coast) was the next place she suggested, but that idea failed to gain any traction. I was thinking maybe Tacoma (baby sister Megan represent!); they have some nice museums and such downtown, and we'd never been there before. But before I floated that idea she found a deal for a night's stay at Skamania Lodge , and that solidified our plans. The weekend leading up to our t

Most people probably think I'm odd for looking forward to and enjoying my annual trip to Pasco, Washington, each Christmas season to shoot the Cable Bridge Run. Eastern Washington isn't most people's idea of a winter getaway--I mean, how many college football bowl games do any parts of Oregon or Washington host? It's always cold, and it is usually raining or snowing, and sometimes we have a terrible time traveling home. It's all about the comradirie, the sprint to the finish because the cops close the roads into it, and trying to nail that perfect action shot of the guy wearing his tangerine speedo (true story, although we didn't see him for the first time this year). Last year's photo team was the all '93 McNary special, but we traded Brent (Penrose's brother-in-law) this year for Penrose's wife, Trish (also a McNary graduate, but not from our special class). Having a lady there didn't prevent us from being any wilder or crazier than we n

I still remember the birth of Aaron and how worried I was about not knowing how to take care of him. Contrast that to today, when I let him ride his bike to the neighborhood game shop a few miles away to play Pokemon League with his friends, and didn't think twice about it. A lot can happen in ten years. Aaron celebrated his birthday with a dozen friends at Cloud Cap Games , a place he loves to hang out most Saturday mornings (see above) and which Meg knows the owner well. We used to live on the same street as the shop, but we moved shortly after they opened their doors. Aaron and his friends played games; feasted on pizza, homemade cake, and ice cream; opened presents, and made a ton of noise. It's hard to brag too much about Aaron, since I'm his dad and he is my first-born, as it comes off the wrong way. But I really enjoy Aaron. I love spending time with him. I like playing games with him (usually he is a good sport, but he still has his moments when he quits be

Meg's parents have been in Oregon for the past week or so, and they have been spending time with their kids who remain in the state. We got them tonight so, among other things (like folding our laundry), they helped us decorate our Christmas tree, which Meg brought home last Friday night from her friend's parents' place, where they run a small tree farm on their property. We don't have a lot of space in the house, but Meg has been pretty good at choosing trees that fit nicely in our small space. I just hope the tree survives to Christmas, because Thanksgiving came so stinking early this year.

Asay boys opening their Christmas gift from their grandparents Each year our family's Thanksgiving events seem to shrink, which I suppose has its positives and negatives. My parents and siblings have all fled Western Eden, so we now only celebrate this holiday with Meg's family, which has also slowly been exiting the state, and we are down to three families who live in Oregon. Meg's parents also were in town visiting. For the second year we gathered in Dallas, Oregon--the central place between the three of us--where my sister-in-law lives. We departed Portland mid-morning. Ibrahim, our current boarder, also joined us, probably drawn to the idea of playing soccer with the in-laws. Last year's match was a chilly, sloppy affair fought out on a flooded field of grass (oh how I miss the artificial turf fields of Sherwood in times of yore); we saw serious rains earlier in the week, but it fortunately cleared up enough and dried out the fields somewhat--even to the po

A few years ago Meg expected me to throw her a party for a milestone birthday, and I failed miserably (I don't understand how to organize and execute social events). She came to realize that if she wanted the party of her dreams, she'd have to plan it herself--and so she did. She sent out the invitations, promoted it on The Facebook, reserved party space at a nearby restaurant and created the menu of her choice, ordered cakes from a local bakery and arranged for their pickup, enlisted a DJ (me) and photographer (also me) to entertain and delight the crowd, arranged for a sitter to watch our boys, and figured out how best to move the crowd that was willing to watch the new Twilight movie to the closest theater. And all it cost me was a vacation day from work--a pretty cheap way to ensure my wife's happiness. After the event she declared after the event that that his was the " BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!!!! ".

Oregon: Where you can vote by bike In our two-party political system, you have a 50/50 chance of picking the winner, unless you waste your vote on one of those third-party contenders who never come close to winning and rarely affect the overall outcome. But after you live a few years and survive election after election, your chances of picking the winning presidential candidate each year goes down. I have voted in each presidential election since 1996, the first that I was old enough to vote in, and each time I have voted for the winner. According to a calculator I found on the Internet, I only had a 3% chance of doing just that. So how did I do it? Did I simply pick the person I think would win, because I am a bandwagon jumper? Of course not--I abhor such a thing. I simply have picked the person I think would best lead the country, and it has happened to be the one that America agreed with (sort of). Oregon has what I feel is the best method of voting: by mail. I received my bal

Maren, Matt, Dad, Me, Mom It was only six weeks ago that Grandma died . But when I received the message that Grandpa had also passed , it felt like only a week or two had gone by. So it was off to Medford again. Everything about this trip felt like before, except the weather: 50 degrees cooler, and the rain and cooler air had re-colored the valleys with vibrant greens, bold yellows, and burning reds. I also decided to make this a quicker trip: drive down Thursday afternoon, head home Friday evening--just taking care of business and nothing more. Moroni keeping watch always My sister Maren's in-laws once again kindly put me and my brother and sister up for the evening at their house in Medford, and after meeting up with them there (we arrived about 30 minutes within each other, even though they had departed super early from Salt Lake City), we ventured out into town for dinner with my parents, who had also just arrived from SLC, and some of my aunts, uncles, and long-los

Halloween in Western Eden usually produces cold and rain, but our streak of rain-free trick-or-treating sessions in Portland continued to three in a row. It rained much of the day, but the clouds broke for a few hours in the late afternoon and made life much more pleasant for our boys, who dressed up as follows: Edward : Luke Skywalker Bespin Aaron : Some kind of clone trooper from the Star Wars expanded universe Ian : Maverick from Top Gun, although he got mad when you called him that and insisted he was a "fighter pilot." I had taken the afternoon off of work so I could photograph the older boys' class parties at school, and afterwards we drove them to a couple of friends from church who lived not near enough for the boys to trick-or-treat, and both of whom are Ian's teachers in his nursery class. The first woman had just seen her son off on a two-year mission (meaning, she won't see or talk with him during that time, even though he will be a close d

Aaron and I enjoyed complimentary tickets to the Blazers game Friday night (thanks to the grand opening of the Sellwood Les Schwab). We rode the bus into NE Portland and ate at the nearby Applebee's using a giftcard that I had hoarded since Christmas. The restaraunt was packed, but we got seats within a few minutes of arriving, and we packed our food in just as quickly.   The arena was as empty as I've ever seen it. Our seats were pretty poor, so when we saw the cheer squad prancing up the stairs a few sections over to lead the silly game of having the crowd pass the game ball down to the court. I asked Aaron if he wanted to get in on the game and he quickly grabbed his jacket and ran over to the area where the ball was surely to pass. And pass it did. Since nobody was there, we just planted our butts in our adopted seats and enjoyed the game from a much better view. The Blazers lost to a similarly-mediocre team AND failed to push the score past 100 so we didn't even

Meg called me at work one day and asked if I wanted to be her teammate for the Portland Urban Dare race. It sounded very hipster-ish to me, and I avoid such things like spoiled meat. I probably said I would do it, but that it wasn't something I would normally choose to do. She signed us up, regardless. Here's how the race worked: all teams were given one piece of paper with 12 clues. The clues, which were so obscure and unsolvable without the Internet, identified a specific place around the central city. We had to reach of the 12 places and either take a picture of us at the site or we interacted with a race official who oversaw a "dare." I'm not sure why they called it a dare: completing a three-legged walk around a city block, figuring out a simple math problem, and making a balloon animal don't exactly tickle the meter-o'-dare. It took us about an hour and 50 minutes to complete the race, good for 18th overall out of about 60 teams. I think we both a

When my mom called first thing Saturday morning, I figured it was to share the news that my grandmother had died. I was right. The writing was on the wall, and I took the news with no emotional reaction. I would later learn that her funeral would be six days later and, thanks to my employer's policy, and the great understanding of my wife, I was able to take a few days off to make the trip to Medford (abut a five-hour drive from Portland). I began my travels on Thursday morning, after walking my boys to school and having Meg shave my head (she tried to rid me of my burns, but my pulling the plug of the clippers stopped that quickly. This didn't really happen, except in her mind). I stopped first in Salem and visited with Grandpa Hanna for an hour. He looked much better than the last time I saw him, back in June. I often struggle to think of things to discuss while I'm there, but we easily spent an hour talking about every-this-and-that. Eventually the lunch bell rang,

Aaron and Edward advanced to their next grade levels today (4th and 2nd grades, respectively). I think everyone welcomed this routine back in our lives. Aaron's class this year boasts 33 students, while Ed has only 24 in his class, although he is out in a portable again (what, are they afraid of what havoc he might wreak inside the century-old building?). Edward's teacher is named Mrs. Frisby, and I gave him a bunch of good jokes to try out (we read the book together earlier in the year), but he reported that he failed to use any of them. I escorted Edward to his class, but he was fine without me--such a contrast to his first day of school two years ago . He really has made huge strides in being willing to jump through societal hoops. Aaron's almost the big man on campus, but I don't think it has gotten to his head. Lest Ian be lost in the shuffle, he will purportedly be home-schooled this year with some of his peers from the neighborhood/church. He has two more

Nice socks (I have a pair) For the first time in five years of photographing Hood-to-Coast, everything went smoothly: no panic attacks at thinking I had lost my car keys, no equipment malfunctions, no getting lost on the course, and no scorching heat or pesky rain showers. The sun still burned my summer-dark skin, my thighs hurt like I had run 26 miles while powerlifting my weight, and the little sleep I scavenged failed to ward off my drowsiness late Saturday. But 2012 was easily the best experience to date. But I also have some myths that I wish to debunk: I am NOT a volunteer , so quit elevating me to such a holy state. Just because I wear a reflective vest all day doesn't automatically grant me my angelic wings that the true volunteers have. I say this because most runners I encounter say the magic words, "Thanks for coming out here today." I'm getting paid, people--this is not a form of charity. My job is NOT easy . Every year a handful of runners throw