Westmoreland Asays

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