Westmoreland Asays

Asay and the Mighty Willamette The day before a holiday the office is always quieter, and it is easier to get more work done, even when management commands you to stop working and go home early--another perk of working the day before a holiday. And thus began my three-day weekend. Meg and I visited our neighborhood theater to watch Star Trek Into Darkness (the first of many, many movies we watched), which was fine, and still much better than the other, older flavors of Star Trek. Dinner at Stickers, a walk in the rain, and frozen yogurt at Nectar (again--we need some risk-takers to open a new treat-shoppe in the recently vacated gelato building). At home we watched the back-end of our double feature, People Like Us , which I probably liked more than Star Trek. Maybe. Captain Kirk starred in both movies. The View from PCG On Saturday I helped a family in our ward move to a new house that sits just around the corner from us. Even though they plan on sending their four kids to

Pinewood derby car building instincts skip a generation, but they are hereditary. My dad built me some prize-winning cars when I was a cub scout, but I couldn't build a winner to save my life. I still recall traveling to East Salem for a regional pinewood derby run-off (for I had won at the local level in Keizer), which I took 2nd place (I wish I still had the trophy--it was pretty big). My mechanical skills are an embarrassment--I really have no idea how I received an "A" in shop class in middle school. Aaron built his own car, as he did last year, and my meager contributions included painting and carving out some of the rear of the car to replace with heavier metals (if you look at the close up pictures of his car, you will see how I made it worse). His car was pretty lightweight, because he had cut off most of the wood, and I struggled to add more weight without making it look ridiculous, so we both accepted that his car would probably be just as slow as last year

Isn't she lovely? I just couldn't get a break. As soon as we were back from Great Wolf Lodge, and I had unloaded the van and put everything back to where it belonged, I found myself getting ready for Mother's Day. I'm not trying to complain, but I was just really, really tired with back-to-back-to-back major events. Sunday morning the boys all delivered their cards-and-crafts to Meg, while I attempted to make breakfast (omelettes). I didn't burn anything, but I usually don't. I also made sweet-and-sour pork for dinner, something I haven't made in years. It's a lot of work and, frankly, it just doesn't taste as good as what I've found in restaurants  so I'm reluctant to make it any more. But the lady requested it, so I was happy to oblige. I hope she enjoyed it. I celebrate each day we spend together, even red-tent days. Did I just say that? I love you always, Meg.

Emma under the big bucket Before the elder Boorens abandoned us for Virginia, they arranged for some of us to go to Great Wolf Lodge in Washington . They were back in town for Edward and Andrew's baptism and wanted to treat the others in Oregon who hadn't been able to make the first trip. Meg wanted to go again, so as soon as Aaron and I returned from outdoor school , we were back on the road in the opposite direction, with me behind the wheel (Meg said she didn't sleep very well the night before, but I don't know how it was any worse than my utterly restless sleep at outdoor school). But I got us out of a traffic-clogged Portland and to the resort without (much) incident. The only way to get into the water park at Great Wolf is to buy a hotel room for the night, and after we unloaded our gear, ate dinner together at the onsite restaurant, I took the older boys to the water park for Round 1. There weren't too many people there, so we didn't have to wait m

Our kids go on lots of field trips as part of their education at Llewellyn. These trips usually last a few hours, and the kids venture to some nearby place of interest or significance, such as a museum or a local bakery. These trips require support from parents, but I've never heard of there being a lack of interest from parents. In fact, teachers usually have to turn away several interested parents. One of the more involved field trips is the Oregon Trail overnighter for fourth-graders , which draws so much interest from parents that the teachers hold a lottery to determine who won the privilege of attending. I eagerly submitted my name, but I did not win a spot on the trip. Aaron's teacher did notify me, however, that I was a backup, and that glimmer of hope kindled a small hope that somebody would drop out. And drop out somebody did. So long as I could pass the background check, I would get to cash in two of my vacation days camping in the woods with one of my sons and a h

Turning eight-years old as a mormon is the first rite of passage, as he or she can now enter the waters of baptism and become an official member of the church. Edward has teetered back-and-forth about whether he wanted to be baptized or not. I would not force him to do it; and while he probably doesn't grasp exactly what baptism means, he needed to make the final decision. You can rarely predict the Edward. Nay, not even Edward can predict himself. But he and I sat down, discussed his concerns, practiced what would happen, and all seemed well. He even talked with the Bishop for at least 15 minutes without issue--at least neither reported any to me (it was a private interview). Edward's cousin Andrew, who lives in Springfield, also turned eight in April, so we arranged to baptize the two boys together (in Milwaukie) so that more family could attend. I should say Meg managed most of the arrangements, which included a nice party afterwards, and which many of the attendees comm

My mom visited us this weekend to participate with Edward's Baptism. She traveled south to Salem to see her dad in Salem Friday morning, but otherwise she spent time with us in our little corner of Portland. Friday evening we dined at a local bar--gorging ourselves with the tots--walked around Crystal Springs garden, and ate frozen yogurt at Nectar. Having my mom around sometimes pulls distant memories from the black hole that is currently devouring much of my brain. I recalled my mother writing to me in her first letter to me as a missionary that, after dropping me off at the Portland Airport, she stopped at Crystal Springs and loved her brief visit. I was hopeful that her return there would have the same effect on her memory, but it felt like a fresh experience. Regardless, I don't think once can ever over-hydrate on the beauty and solitude that flows from Crystal Springs. On Saturday mom took all three kids to central Sellwood so the older two could go to Pokemon league an