Westmoreland Asays

Baby Boy Breaks Bone

2012-01-30T22:00:00.000-08:00

Last Wednesday while I was washing the dishes, I heard a distant thump and then steady crying. Nothing unusual there, so I turned off the water, dried my hands, and walked over to the source of the noise--as routine as routine can be. My inspection found Ian laying on his back at the bottom of the stairs, flaying a bit like a bug unable to turn over on its own. Aaron and Ed were nowhere to be found, so at least they weren't responsible for the situation. I picked up Ian and asked him if he was okay. His speaking consists of a couple of nouns strung together, so he couldn't explain what happened or what hurt.

I took him to my room, laid him in the bed, and pulled out the bucket of Jelly Bellies. He seemed to favor his right hand, but that didn't stop him from sticking it into the bucket and pulling out a few candies. I asked him to move all of his fingers and roll his wrist, and it didn't seem to cause him any more pain. I figured he had sprained his wrist and it would feel better in the morning. He went to bed fine and slept peacefully through the night.

After waking up Thursday morning, Ian wanted to ride his bike with me, an

Saturday, in temporary sling, at Crystal Springs

on-again-off-again tradition where he either rides to the first intersection from our house, waves goodbye, then rides back home; or he keeps riding and I escort him around the block and back to our house, where we then part ways for the day. I was running late and needed to leave quickly, so I passed him off to Meg. When she helped Ian saddle up to his bike, she reported that he couldn't hold on to the handlebar with his right hand and whimpered in pain when he tried, so she decided that he needed medical attention.

After a visit to the doctor and an x-ray, Ian came home with a brace on his hand and an appointment for Monday to see another doctor who would apply a cast. The diagnosis differs depending on whom you ask:

Ian: If you ask Ian what's wrong with his hand, he frowns and mutters "broke."
Me: He broke his wrist.
Meg: It's only a hairline fracture--HAIRLINE.

Today Ian got his cast on. I don't know how it went, since nobody shared the events, so I assume he didn't fuss much. The cast stays on for two weeks.

With Ian's right hand immobilized, he has adapted very well to using his left hand, whether for feeding himself or putting together puzzles or shooting free throws at the schoolyard. Despite having a broken bone--the first in 9.5 years of having children in the house--Ian has been as happy and positive as usual. I'm very proud of how well he has faced the incident (Meg might have a different opinion, as she was the one who had to take him to various doctors and deal with Ian in a setting he didn't like). And fortunately we haven't had any copycats trying to break bones to earn special treats or attention from mom and dad.

Top 10 Photographs of 2011

2011-12-26T08:00:00.000-08:00

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 its programs. While the host was explaining the rules to the kids, Aaron entered the void, seeking enlightenment on how best to have fun, avoid being hit, and take out as many of his peers as he could.

2. Sanctuary

Meg was out-of-town for an extended weekend in May. For one final hurrah (despite my allergies telling me to stay indoors), we all rode our bikes to Crystal Springs Gardens in Eastmoreland, my sanctuary, and drank up the colors and scents of spring in full motion.

3. Howl

The Boorens gathered at the Sherwood homestead for Memorial Day. Andrew Booren expressed some kind of desire/emotion/feeling during a rain-infested baseball game on the back lawn.

4. Descent

Llewellyn Elementary celebrates the end-of-year with a carnival. The event is supposed to be fun and mostly free for families, but with Meg on the food committee, the event turned into a fund-raiser for the school.

5. Scuba Stare-down

As soon as school released in June, we headed west for three days in Newport, with the Oregon Aquarium being the main draw. Ian encountered this diver performing maintenance, and their eyes locked for an extended period.

6. Beautiful Grace

While walking the nature paths outside the aquarium, we found a nice resting spot that transferred into an gymnastics arena. We all caught some air showed off our air-borne personalities.

7. Blue

In July Meg and I stole away to downtown to watch Shakespeare in the Park (12th Night). The performance was lacking, and the distractions downtown make it difficult to pay attention fully, but even more sore with the lady on your left is Meg.

8. Twilight at Daybreak

During our stay in Utah, we visited my mother in Daybreak (South Jordan), a huge planned community in the outskirts of Salt Lake county. We walked along the many common areas and witnessed one of the most beautiful displays of natural lighting I've ever been able to use to compose a shot.

9. The Chicken Whisperer

My niece, Emmeline, adores her chickens. She knows all of their names, their personalities, and how best to approach them. Mind you, they have like 16 chickens in the backyard of their Salt Lake City house.

10. Fall Is All Around

After taking a family self-portrait in our Monster March t-shirts, I followed Ian and Eddie across the street to see some spectacularly colorful fall foliage. Ian always seems to sport a look of innocence, which I am happy to capture.

Bonus Selection: Feeling Pretty

I realized that I left off one of Meg, which I must include. This was just a late Summer Sunday where Meg spent much too much time in the bathroom and needed to chronicle her efforts. So consider this bonus shot. And definitely feel free to vote for this one, even if it doesn't have a number.

Cable Bridge Run 2011

2011-12-17T23:56:00.001-08:00

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 to stop once. Brian claimed he wasn't doing anything wrong when we noticed the police car behind us, lights flashing and sirens blazing. Fortunately, he was right. The officer questioned us briefly, checked Brian's information, and informed us that the right taillight was out and that we were driving dangerously down the road. After telling us to get it fixed in the next few days, he let us leave. When he asked us what we were doing, I struggled not to blurt out, "We're heading for the Tri-Cities to shoot a whole bunch of runners tomorrow." He probably wouldn't have appreciated my humor, and Meg probably wouldn't have appreciated bailing us out of jail at midnight in the middle of Morrow County.

We arrived at the Motel 6 in Richland--Brian's wife had reserved the wrong facility, as we usually stay in Pasco about a mile from the start--which seemed older and more shady than our usual cheap-sleep bunk. The first room we tried was full of cigarette smoke; the woman at the front desk assured us it was non-smoking, but she gave us another room. As we approached it, though, a large dog started barking furiously. Strike two. So we got a third room, which was just right, except for the two different groups of people who congregated outside our room talking loudly with each other at various stages of the early morning.

The sun was hiding west of the Cascades

Saturday morning was cold and foggy (although probably warmer than all previous years), but it was the first year we didn't have to deal with snow. I could actually feel my fingers pressing the trigger button and had more control about what I captured. After nabbing the last walker at the start on the Cable bridge (which was apparently started by a very large cannon), we speed-walked past everyone back to the car and drove as close as we could to the finish line, which was at a police barricade about a mile off. Brian and I bailed the Prius, me taking the point position and sprinting along the desert ground and railroad tracks to the finish line, where I continued my record-breaking day, taking more pictures (about 1900) than Brian--a first in all my days of shooting with him. As soon as the race ended (the last stragglers taking over 90 minutes to move 10k, which is over 15:00/mile, for those keeping track at home), we shot out of there, stopped at Carls Jr. for lunch, and then sped our way west to the sun and comforts of home.

On a completely unrelated note, Brian informed me that he won the bid to shoot Hood-to-Coast in 2012, and that the race director also implied that the contract is his for the foreseeable future. Hooray for tradition (and more zany blog posts)! He also told me that my pictures were the best selling of all the legs of Hood-to-Coast on Saturday.

Alpenrose Dairy - Storybook Lane

2011-12-10T17:00:00.000-08:00

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 device in the car, but he failed to provide a legitimate reason why we needed one. So he gave the directions in his best robot-like voice. For the record, GPS makes you dumb. I know, because Ken Jennings told me so, and he's both the richest and smartest guy I pretend to know. We arrived without much fuss in the car, and the boys didn't even complain when I parked as far as I could from the event, because I didn't want to take my wife's ultra-clean van into the make-shift parking lot in what was probably the grazing and pooping area for the cows.

This turkey has it made, at least until Christmas Eve

Before even setting foot in Storybook Lane, I feared that Aaron, who is 9 going on 13, would scoff at the activities and try to spoil the event for his younger brothers. Boy was I wrong. He commented how awesome the place was and was eager to experience it all--including a visit with Santa Claus, whom he knows to be a false but useful holiday tradition. All of the buildings in the faux village were small and and most were selling treats or goodies or trinkets--which were useless to us because I had warned the boys that "I have no money"--but we found other things of interest like the model railway sets, one of which is permanently on display, and which captured the boys' attention for some time. Storybook Lane was probably the highlight for the boys, and they didn't mind the five-minute wait to get inside. I had no idea what to expect, but when you stuff over 200 live, flocked Christmas trees; a ton of farm animals, including a pig, a turkey, chickens, a rabbit, a mule, ducks, pygmy goats, a lamb, and an elkdog; and little playhouses, you have one cool display. Ian liked seeing most of the animals, although the larger ones caused him to tremble and demand I carry him out of the display as soon as possible.

Interesting list indeed . . .

Just keep me away from the bearded one

The boys also wanted to wait for a chance to visit with Santa Claus, who was holed up in one of the larger (and heated, thankfully) buildings in the village. We had received ticket #143 when we arrived, but we were able to trade up to #100 while waiting in the reception area, where the boys stayed mostly busy writing lists for Santa, eating candy that I had brought for them, reading books, and playing with toys and blocks and puzzles that were scattered throughout. After about an hour of this, they finally called our number and we took our place in line. While waiting these last few minutes, we collectively decided that Ian should go first, followed by Eddie, and Aaron being the last. But as soon as it was Ian's turn to sit on Santa's knee, he screamed and gripped me as tightly as he could. I wish he would tell me what exactly it is that bothers him about Santa, but he failed to articulate anything meaningful. That meant it was Eddie's turn. He said "Oh no, no way am I going over there." So Aaron played the role of first-born perfectly, walking nonchalantly to Santa, hopping on his lap, and began conversing with him like they were old chums. Santa handed Aaron a candy cane as he left; Eddie saw this exchange and immediately changed his mind. He walked briskly over to Santa, all prior hesitation completely evaporated, and had a lively chat. I tried to persuade Ian that he also could get a candy cane if he would go sit with Santa, but the sugar was not persuasion enough. Ian is pretty good about listening to your argument, even if he has no intention of taking your side, but there's just something about Santa that doesn't sit right with him.

Lunar Eclipse

2011-12-10T07:00:00.000-08:00

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 Council Crest or Mt. Tabor and hoped for a glimpse of the orange moon, but scaling a small mountain on the black sheep in sub-freezing temperatures pre-dawn just didn't sound like a fun or smart idea.

Dad's Inappropriate Movie Night

2011-12-05T20:00:00.000-08:00

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: animated, post-apocalyptic (my favorite genre), and possible Mormon overtones (the director is Mormon). But memory tells me this movie failed to excite my senses, and modern-day Mike still agrees.

<cheese alert> I saw it with Meg during the summer of our engagement and, frankly, nothing excited me like being with her. This movie had no hope of winning me over</cheese alert>.

We had to watch it on my laptop, as our Wii was in timeout, but both boys cuddled up next to me on the floor, and Aaron kept saying throughout how much he loved the film. So how was this an inappropriate movie? It stinks. If you need more proof, just ask Eric. Shame on you for thinking it had to deal with seeing the main character's naked butt.

On a movie-related note, Aaron thinks its unfair that Eddie gets to watch Star Wars Episode 3 when he's seven, while Aaron has to wait until he's 10. It was such a great injustice in his mind that he tried to pull an Esau and switch places with Eddie in the line of birth order. Star Wars is the new pottage.

Elk Rock Island

2011-12-03T21:54:00.001-08:00

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.

Block Party

2011-11-26T22:00:00.000-08:00

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 the flyer we received about the event said the party would last from noon to five, but it went on until about 10:00 p.m. Even though Jimmy's children are grown, he brought in a bounce house for the neighborhood kids (although some of his grand kids did come over later). He also had loads of food and soda (even more adult beverages). We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows, played soccer in the street, and ate cotton candy until we passed out from sugar overload--well, just Eddie, who consumed no fewer than six servings (that's all I caught him with). Despite all of this, I managed to watch the Civil War in its entirety.

Ian is becoming a fabulous model

You might find it hard to believe that the party continued well into the night without us, but after bathing the boys, reading them stories, and putting them to bed, fake Aunt Susan showed up with her boyfriend and we played Pit--deluxe edition!--for a while before they left to return to their home in Seattle. I guess we let Aaron play with us for a few rounds, but we made a deal with him that he could continue to play with us so long as he won the round, and the next round, and so on. He lost that first round with said deal in place, but what surprised me was how quickly he accepted his fate, said "See ya, I'm outta here," and made his way to bed, where he fell asleep instantly. I was the Pit champion, in case you wondered (and it wasn't even close).

Thanksgiving 2011

2011-11-24T21:05:00.000-08:00

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--today included--and the fields we played on were so sloppy with mud, one could barely move up and down the field without slipping (in case you wondered, FiveFingers don't work well in slick grass and mud). We played for about two hours, long enough for my clothes to become soaked through and my digits to become numb and useless--I'm still not sure how I piloted the van back to the Jones' house safely. Aaron rode home in his underwear, as he played a tad more aggressively than me, and needed to shed his clothes to get dry and stay warm.

Three new babies on the way--
and at least one is a boy!

Even though only half the Booren bunch was gathered, we still had 10 adults, 14 kids, and three in utero. But it didn't seem as crazy and loud as usual; maybe I'm just going deaf. Despite everybody eating turkey, the day ended with a huge, multi-player wrestling match in the living room. The Jones kids are, how shall we say, undersized, but they make up for it with grit, determination, and motors that don't every die. It helps that Uncle John, their dad, is a wrestling coach at Dallas High, where he teaches. None of the other kids could pin a Jones, despite a glaring difference in size. Our house's layout won't provide such a venue for Christmas, I'm afraid, despite Meg saying the kids could wrestle on the concrete floor in our basement.

The Lady's Week of Celebration

2011-11-19T00:24:00.001-08:00

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 extra basket of bread Meg persuaded one of the students to bring us. We exited the building with full stomachs and relief that the fresh, night air was mostly devoid of rain, and walked back downtown to the bus mall to catch the 19 back to our beloved Westmoreland neighborhood to cap the night at The Woods, a former funeral parlour turned nightclub.

We arrived around 9:15, I think, which is somewhat late for my miserly ways. We had to walk around the building a bit before finding the entrance to the club. Even though I didn't have my ID, the attendant clearly discerned my aged ways and let me pass. I was a bit perplexed--in a good way--to find we were sharing the place with but a small group of young ladies, and they left soon thereafter, giving us a very intimate venue to do as we pleased, which was spent listening to what I thought a masterful DJ spinning and mixing obscure punk, new wave, and the occasional pop song from records of the 80's. We may have danced a bit, Meg more so than me, as that was the purpose of our visit (sorry, owners, we don't drink and were still plenty full from dinner).

With every passing minute, more and more people showed up, crowding the dance floor, and causing my interest to wane, at least in terms of moving my dance-retarded body. It didn't help that when the DJ changed hands (from a very Portland-hipster woman wearing period threads, to a David Bowie look-a-like), he started playing 80's pop songs exclusively, which seemed to please and excite the young crowd. I lamented to Meg on the eventual walk home that I thought the second DJ failed to perform his job, which was to piece together the music in an artful way, but Meg felt it was his/her job to bring people to the dance floor. Regardless, we didn't need our coats on the short walk home, despite being the coldest night of the season to date.

Ten years ago, if we had gone on this same date, I think Meg would have come home unhappy, confused and distraught at why her husband doesn't like--nor can he ever seem to learn--the activity of dancing. But I think she genuinely enjoyed her time--and probably would have preferred to dance the night away if we hadn't promised the sitter we'd be home before the witching hour befell us.

Halloween 2011

2011-10-31T21:46:00.000-07:00

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 seen them behave so well together. I carried Ian from house-to-house, which kept me warm--dare I say even hot, and the weather was mild and devoid of clouds or rain. Aaron's goal is to ration his candy to last until New Year's, which is reasonable considering the size of his stash.

This has nothing to do with Halloween, but later in the week, Meg and I hired a sitter and had dinner in the neighborhood before heading to Oaks Park for some hard-core roller action. No, Meg didn't join the local roller derby league (despite my encouragement), but rather we skated until our feet were blistered and our legs were tired. I made an awesome video, but you have to be in one of my circles on Google + to see it, I think. We finished up at the local gelato place for dessert and idle talk and rest. Man, it doesn't take much to wear me out these days.

Moneyball

2011-10-29T23:41:00.000-07:00

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't really like the game much anymore. I certainly don't follow it, and the few players I know are the old ones (i.e., those my age).

So I wonder why I was tearing up watching some of the more dramatic scenes. I didn't witness any of the events (meaning I didn't watch them unfold on TV, like watching Kirk Gibson in Game 1 of the '88 series), they weren't about players or teams I care about, yet still the emotions swelled up inside like I was a kid again. I think nostalgia grasps me harder than most, and I do nothing to escape her clutches. It's a good movie--funny, interesting, clever--even if you don't have any emotional ties to baseball.

PSU Football Game

2011-10-08T17:00:00.000-07:00

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.

Weekend at Great Wolf Lodge

2011-10-01T10:00:00.000-07:00

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 able to put what little luggage we brought in our suite, which we shared with the elder Boorens, and then immediately proceeded to the water park for a couple hours of frolicking in the hot and humid pools and tunnels of water. Meg had strained her neck the previous week, so she declined going down any of the thrill rides, which left the job to me. The rides weren't that thrilling (i.e., I never once felt like I was going to die or throw up), so I was able to accompany both Aaron and Edward on many a trip, although both Friday and Saturday night my head hurt and my insides felt nauseous. That's why I found this sign, which was for sale in one of the gift shops, very fitting. It strengthened me to know that I'm not alone. We also spent Saturday morning at the water park.

Oh blessed pig

A sad reality

We dined at one of the many in-resort restaurants for dinner (we brought our own breakfast and lunch for Saturday), and I was happy to go family-style with three others for ribs and mashed potatoes and veggies. That was probably meal enough for me, but that didn't stop me from trying to finish off the bucket-o'-fries that several of the boys left behind--Emma kept refilling the bucket just before I thought I was about to empty it. Dessert rarely has any appeal to me, especially not on a feast like tonight. I joked with the Boorens that this my thanksgiving with them.

The Book of Mormon is My Spell Book

Outside of the main attraction--the water park--there were many other activities possible at the resort: kiddie manicures, arcade, critter club, and others that elude my memory. But the one that captured the boys' attention the most was the MagiQuest game. First you had to spend $15 on a plastic wand that activated pieces of the game that were scattered throughout the lodge. Then you had to spend another $15 on the actual game. And the guidebook cost a buck, or it was free--I couldn't get a straight answer from Aaron and Ed. The game involved finding specific things around the lodge in a certain order, documenting their findings with the magic wand. I observed Aaron and Edward questing mid-way through their adventure and never really understood what they were doing. I traded places with Meg, which mean coaxing Ian to fall asleep while riding on my shoulders, and then taking a nap on a couch in the lodge foyer. This proved dangerous, as Meg reports several men were hitting on her (usually it's the other way around, as hard as that is to believe; no, no: Meg doesn't hit on other guys; other women hit on me). The funny part of that was when she described who her husband was, all of the suitors knew immediately who she was talking about; everyone dreams that they could be like Mike.

Eddie temporarily took my place so I could pee

I suppose the magiQuest game was a cheaper and healthier option than just giving them the equivalent amount of money to spend on tokens at the arcade to win tickets with which they could redeem for a dollar's worth of sugar-coated merchandise. The game took them all over five of the lodge's eight floors, which meant they climbed countless flights of stairs in pursuit of their runes and battles with digitized dragons. I just thought it was kind of nerdy (like I can speak)--I mean, you should have seen the guy who registered your wand and activated it for the game; he was perhaps the perfect fit for the job, as he never slipped out of character, was dressed as a medieval shopkeeper, spoke in a comical accent, and seemed like he genuinely loved his job. The boys stated unequivocally that the magiQuest was their favorite part of the trip, and they hope somebody, some day, will take them back to complete another segment of the game that eluded them because of time constraints.

Thank you Skip and Emma for treating us one last time. Life in Oregon will not be the same without your loving and comforting presence. This might sound odd, and I don't mean this in a negative way, but I hope your move proves to the be the hardest thing you've ever done. I think we'll miss you more than anyone.

I'd also like to give a shout-out to Aaron's blog, where he posted his first real story (isn't it nice to read about the same event from a different bias?). He sincerely hopes to write more stories as they happen and as he receives reminders from me to write them down.

And in case you wondered about the headings from above, they were mouthed by none other than Edward. That boy says some funny stuff sometimes.

The Quilt of Many Conquests

2011-09-17T13:51:00.000-07:00

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 sentence is spotted with a smidgen of hyperbole, but I shouldn't have to tell you this because only kids and nerds wear their participant shirt during the actual race, and I am neither. Even though the idea of transforming a quilt built around my former conquests was cool, I had trouble giving up the shirts. In retrospect, I should have given her more shirts. And for all of you who thought when reading "conquests" in the title thought I was referring to all of my "converts" while frolicking around the country-side of Japan during those little-documented years of the mid-1990's, shame on you.

But then Ian was born. And we moved to a new house with no space big enough to work on the quilt. And then we moved again. Throughout the the Quilt Trials--as this episode shall be known hereafter and upon the records of the church--I playfully and metaphorically jabbed Meg with a "finish my quilt" whenever she asked if I wanted anything. I think this saying gradually wore her down, like the ever flowing-and-ebbing shoreline and, in a couple efforts spread over a few weeks, she finished the quilt for all to behold and for me to snuggle up with for all of those chilly Saturday nights watching Ducks football (because we all now the Blazers as a team technically no longer exist and probably won't play many if any games this upcoming season (thanks a lot, greedy rich people)).

Thank you, Meg, for seeing this one through to completion. I'll enjoy it till I die, at which point I expect to be wrapped up in it and burned.

Best Day of the Year

2011-09-06T21:00:00.000-07:00

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 can enter the building--I tried to stick with Aaron to accompany him to his classroom, but he left me like a running back trying to find a hole through the o-line. He has a teacher new to the school (and the district, city, and state), and Aaron reports that each of his first four days have been awesome.

You never know how Ed will react in a situation, but Meg reported he happily went to his class (he has the same teacher Aaron had in first grade), and she was able to leave promptly without issue. Ed can't articulate his experience as well as Aaron, but he seems to be doing well and enjoying the experience--such a drastic change to the beginning of last year's school year.

Final Day of Summer (Vacation)

2011-09-05T22:08:00.000-07:00

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 8:00 a.m. tomorrow. Hooray for nine months of early bedtimes.

A Tale of Two Days: Hood to Coast 2011

2011-08-27T23:00:00.000-07:00

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 logging (how rude), so the organizers had to change the course, and thus I didn't have to hike a mile into the bucolic backwoods with all of my gear. I instead parked next to a bridge that was apparently a popular fishing hole for the locals and walked 50 meters to the spot of my 12 hours of solitary confinement.

Just a few random points before moving on to the heart of the post.

I almost broke my streak of running into someone I know. But the Croc Warrior, who I know as a fellow runner who trains at Duniway track at the same time I coach, showed up late in the day on leg 35--running in Crocs, of course.
I came within 30 seconds and calling Meg and asking her to somehow bring/transport/deliver her key to the van, as I thought I had lost mine (she was at home and car-less, so that would have been quite a challenge). The key was safe in my jacket pocket the whole time (stupid, forgetful brain).
It took me over 90 minutes to drive the 10 miles from my post on leg 35 to downtown Seaside to turn in my pictures and equipment. 80 of those minutes were spent on a one-or-two mile stretch of Highway 101 stuck in severe traffic. HTC organizers better revert back to 1000 teams or the quality of their product will be eternally tainted.
I learned that at least one person purchased a photo that I took. One of my friends from church, who ran leg 4, said his teammate who ran 5 bought his photo at the beach and said it was awesome. Validation feels great.

For this year's review, I am handing out awards to my favorite participants. Like all other awards, my choices are highly subjective and biased and perhaps even a little sexist. But I'm in charge. So without further adieu, I present BarefootMike's 2011 Hood-to-Coasties.

The siblings separated at birth award goes to . . .

The person who most looks like me award goes to . . .

The most flirtatious (with the camera? or me?) award goes to (three-way tie) . . .

The best Donnie Osmond look-alike award goes to . . .

The hot for teacher award goes to . . . (I hear a lot of conversations as people pass by; some dude from Nike was trying to pick up on this woman)

The best looking Portland hipster award goes to . . . (although he should have been wearing skinny jeans)

The award for the best placement of your race bib goes to . . .

The nerdiest scout award goes to (female and male) . . .

The best staged pose award goes to . . .

The award for the most disinterested, embarrassed, "why do I have to be here" award goes to . . .

The happiest beaver award goes to . . .

The best reaction to smelling my FiveFingers funk award goes to (you could smell them a mile away) (tie) . . .

The I'm so proud of getting myself dressed this morning award goes to (male and female) . . .

The I think very highly of myself award goes to (tie) . . .

The best satan look-alike award goes to (male and female):

(whoops: how did that get in there?)

Evening at Oaks Park

2011-08-25T22:16:00.000-07:00

The Multnomah County Library awards discounted ride bracelets to Oaks Park for kids who complete their summer reading program, which all three boys easily earned. Meg took the older two during the afternoon (Ian went to a friend's house), while Aaron and I rode our bikes through Oaks Bottom and the Springwater Corridor in the evening for a little more action (Ed declined a second visit).

I didn't write about it, but last year Meg and I stole away one evening for a brief interlude at Oaks Park and rode the ferris wheel and maybe some other rides. I don't recall if I declined to ride the more involved rides or not, but we didn't do anything too crazy. But Aaron wanted me to go on every ride with him, which included the scary ones. Oaks Park has perhaps the least scariest rides in America, but they still bother me greatly (I'm becoming such an old man). I still have strong memories of Lagoon many years ago, where my body literally would not calm down. But today I had a different experience, a feeling I haven't had since I was a young lad: the urge to hurl.

After the first ride, Aaron asked what ride I wanted to do next. I replied, "I want to ride my bike back home please." That didn't fly with him, though, and he scampered to the next ride, yelling at me to follow him, while he held up his shorts that kept falling down. This pattern lasted for two rides, at which point I petitioned him for a break and I sat down. After calming down, I accompanied him on the thunder roller coaster, which was the only ride Aaron hadn't done and which he wouldn't do without me riding with him. It turned out to be the least harmful rides for me, and it gave Aaron the peace of mind that he could do it again on his own, again and again and again (but no agains for me). The park was pretty empty so Aaron could go on a ride, quickly exit, and then re-enter and ride again. We went on a few more rides together until one--it was similar to The Matterhorn that used to always be at the Oregon State Fair--started swirling the chunks in my stomach and I thought I was going to lose my lunch right then and there. I slowly walked away, sat down on the first bench I found, closed my eyes and rested my head between my legs, focused as if I were in my sanctuary (Crystal Springs Gardens), and mentally chanted "serenity now, serenity now"). That seemed to work, as no chunks found their way back out.

Aaron continued running from place to place, not just riding the attractions but also planning how best to maximize his time before the park closed. I think he sensed my trepidation about going on more scary rides with him--a peer from church was also there, so that was a fun distraction for a while--and told me that we could ride the Carrousel together right before the park closed at 9:00 p.m. I melted at the sympathetic gesture and secretly lowered my expectations that he would forget or would be caught on a scary ride when the park closed. But he timed it perfectly, as we ended the night riding side-by-side--him on a frog, me on a rooster--a perfect, peaceful way to cap the night, and a memory that I hope lives longer than the life of this blog entry.

Hottest Day of the Year

2011-08-21T22:00:00.000-07:00

Today was the first day of the year where the mercury climbed above 90 degrees. That might sound shocking to some, but the record for Portland is actually October 5, which I experienced but don't remember happening in 1980. I prefer the temperate and cool climate of the Willamette Valley, so I'm like in the one percentile of people in Oregon who is enjoying summer this year. Because the weather is the only true way to judge how good the summer is.

Meg's friend Susan was visiting her family in Sherwood, so she let us tag along and go swimming in her family's pool. The boys were so excited they got into their swimsuits around noon, even though they knew we weren't leaving until after 5:00, and even though Meg takes them several times a week to the Sellwood community pool.

Some of Susan's nieces, about Ed and Aaron's age, were also there, and everyone seemed to get along well and enjoy the company. Unfortunately, there was only one magic sword on the premise, so it became a hotly contested item and led to a few meltdowns from Ed.

Thank goodness Meg rescued me

The pool also had a diving board, which all three boys took advantage of. Aaron the swimmer was a little tentative at first, but he got used to it eventually. Ed reacted similarily, despite wearing a lifejacket, but after a few jumps with me nearby, he would run as fast as he could down to the end of the diving board and then jump with all of his might. Ian, who can't swim, and who wasn't wearing a lifejacket (he doesn't like them anyway), showed no fear and would jump in to where I treaded water. He was worried much more about the bees that sometimes chased us around the pool. After repeating this 20 times without interruption, I felt kind of tired needed a break. Meg replaced me to keep the boy content for a little longer. Ian continues to display his affinity for water, and I hope that translates well into learning how to swim.

There was a trampoline on the premise--no good Mormon household should be without one--and I find it funny how easily I can entertain the kids with my vast array of tricks, which really means I know how to do flips and bounce lightweight kids halfway to the celestial kingdom. Thankfully this power doesn't get to my head and only inflates my already off the chart levels of self-esteem.

11th Anniversary Celebration

2011-08-16T21:00:00.000-07:00

Similar to last year's day-of-the-event celebration, we did a walking/eating tour of Sellwood and Westmoreland. A friend from work graciously volunteered to come over and watch the boys. We also added a movie in the mix: Cowboys and Aliens, which started out well enough, but faded quickly. After the movie we went next door to Limelight Lounge where they had a great deal: three steak tacos for four bucks. But Meg opted for some portabello mushroom sandwiches.

We then walked next door to the Moreland House for fries covered in blue cheese and bacon. Bacon makes everything taste better.

Next up was Papaya Thai, but they were closed for renovations, so we walked down to Sellwood near our old house and visited the Jade Teahouse. Meg had been here before (without me? for shame), and I had heard other people rave about the place. The building is always packed--inside and out, even on weekdays--so that's a good sign, right? But I left underwhelmed.

Who invited this guy?

We only hit three different establishments, a far cry from last year's eight. I think we should make this our yearly tradition, with one rule: we can't visit a place in consecutive years. With turn-over high in the restaurant business, and with such a high concentration of eateries in our neighborhood, this probably isn't necessary.

Road Trip to Utah

2011-08-15T21:00:00.000-07:00

We Drove All Night
We spent a week in Utah visiting a seemingly countless stream of friends and family (most of whom are Oregon ex-pats). I always thought Meg's desire to drive to Utah during the night was crazy. But after experiencing it twice now, I have changed my opinion. The kids slept most of the way, it was cooler out, there was much less noise and traffic, and losing a day of sleep isn't that bad. Except for stops to expel our bladders (Eddie didn't go once) and re-fill the van's gas tank, we drove straight-thru, finally stopping at the Tremonton McDonald's for breakfast (I skipped, of course). Boy, did we make that place look classy.

Emmeline, the chicken poet

Jesus made the chickens healthy so we'd be happy.
Upon arrival Monday morning at my brother's house in the Sugar House neighborhood of Salt Lake City, Meg immediately retreated to the basement to take a nap. But the rest of us took some time to get to know the 14 chickens that live in the backyard. Eddie seemed the most enamored and spent much time chasing them around, trapping them in a cage, and petting and holding them (he also plead from the depths of his heart for us to bring home a chick that would later visit the house). Ian had similar amounts of fun, as did Aaron, although the exposure seemed to ignite his allergies, so he stayed away after that initial experience. My five-year old niece, Emmeline, eagerly introduced us to each chicken and told us everything about them, including their names and and quirky personality traits.We spent the rest of the day close-by, trying to acclimate to Utah's high desert air (no oxygen, dry skin, bloody noses) and hot temperatures. We did venture out that evening, I think, to a nearby school and playground.

I think he's turning Japanese, I really think so

Fly-fishing Virgin No More
I woke up before 6:00 a.m. Tuesday morning to go fly-fishing with my Dad, who picked me up at my brother's house before anyone else had arisen from their beds, and headed East over the mountains towards Heber and the Provo River. Not only was this my first experience fly-fishing, it was the first time I had seen the area of Park City and the Heber Valley. I had no idea such a green, flat place existed within the mountains--it was beautiful. I was also smitten by the Jordanelle Dam, which looked like it was made of pea gravel or granite or some other small and loose rocky material (not the usual concrete we see here in the Northwest). We pulled off the road at some lonely spot and prepared the equipment for what surely would catch us many trout that my dad said were overpopulated in the river. I was in shorts and a t-shirt, while my dad opted for long sleeves and waders. I shivered for the first hour or so while the sun figured out how to climb over the mountains, but by the time we left a few hours later I was sweating from head to toe. We spent about 2.5-3 hours flinging our flies into the river to no avail. I was using a standard rod and reel, while my dad flung his fly with a Japanese-inspired Tenga rod (which is how I fished--and caught billions of specimens--while in Japan). What we found most irritating was a group of four (dad, son, grandson, dumb dog) who barged into our same spot, and proceeded to catch fish after fish with little effort. Thanks for stealing our fish, jerks. My dad then dropped me off in Park City where I met up with Meg and the boys at Olympic Park.

There are more girls on earth, I think. That's because there are more boys in heaven. [Ed, of course]
A stage of the Tour of Utah was happening the same day at Olympic Park, so the main road up to the park was closed and we had to park at the bottom of the mountain and take a shuttle bus up. Hordes of people were milling around everywhere for the race, but few were there to ride the zip-line and alpine slides. Mt. Hood has a similar park, but Park City's alpine slide was longer and faster and more enjoyable. Even though there were only two attractions for the boys to ride (Ian could ride the chairlift up and down, but that was it for him), they rode again and again and again and did not want to leave at 4:00 p.m., our predetermined time to depart for Shannon and Jeff's house in Highland (Utah County, between Provo and Salt Lake City). Fortunately the short lines led to many rides for all, except for one time when a bunch of girls got in front of Ed and I and caused a huge traffic jam on the alpine slide. These weren't little girls either--adults and teen-agers--and that's when Ed uttered his famous, random quote above.

Eddie: Dad, look: there's a tall mountain over there.
Dad: Eddie, we're surrounded by tall mountains, and have been for three days now.

Meg's friend Shannon (and her husband, Jeff, my seventh-cousin) had recently moved into a house they had built, and it felt plenty big for our two families (they have five kids, and their three boys are similar in age to Aaron and Ed)--and when they finish the other bedrooms and living space and bathroom in the basement, it will be even better. We stayed around the house that first day (again, to catch up and avoid what felt like a crazy heatwave).

On Wednesday we drove to the neighboring town of Alpine to spend an hour at a huge, new park that had a prominent water feature for the kids. We left soon thereafter and returned home. Even though we didn't seem to do much while in Highland, the boys were very content to play with their "cousins," and likewise Meg to hang out with her friend (and her two little girls).

That night I met up with Brian Myers, a friend from Salem who used to be in my Sunday School class and with whom I share an affinity for fast and exotic Japanese cars. He's 20 now and working in Provo but considering a move to Portland for work and school and snowboarding. So it was part business (would he want to board with us?) and part pleasure. We ate at this over-hyped Hawaiian cafe (Meg and I enjoyed much better fare at a Hawaiian place in a converted gas station in Portland a few weeks prior) then saw The Rise of the Planet of the Apes.

Water, Water, Water Everywhere

We packed up all of our things Thursday morning and returned to Salt Lake City to go to Seven Peaks (formally Raging Waters). We had been to the Seven Peaks in Provo four years before, and Meg had taken the boys to a similar place last year. This time was no different: they played hard all day (at least, from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.) and didn't want to leave. Aaron and Ed pretty much traveled the park on their own (Meg must have been supervising from afar, but I'm not sure how she spent her time), while I stayed with Ian for much of the day. Ian couldn't voice his pleasure with words, but I could tell from his excited laughs and big smiles that he was in heaven. He rode the giant slides with me on an inter-tube until that tuckered him out (or was I able to convey my tiredness to his persona? Yeah, I'd like to see you carry that 30-pound kid up all of those stairs 10 times in a row), and I let him rest on my chest while I relaxed on a shady, grassy knoll. He actually fell asleep while we rode an inter-tube down the lazy river. I would have preferred to fall asleep with him while slowly moving along the fake river, but I had lost track of time and did not want to be late for our departure.

We drove back to my brother's house in Sugar House, where Meg met up with a friend who drove her away for the next few days to attend a conference nearby, while the boys and I fought rush-hour traffic on I-15 to visit my parents in South Jordan. Ian and Edward fell asleep during the 45-minute drive, which I safely navigated on my own (I don't drive much at all these days, so that's an accomplishment). Ian was very stand-offish when we arrived and wouldn't go inside my parents' house. I eventually had to just pick him up (screaming) and put him in the basement, where after 15-30 minutes on his own he warmed up and was happy for the rest of the stay. After dinner we took a long walk around the Daybreak neighborhood. I love all of the trails and paths and open green spaces and fake creeks and lakes--they make it easy to get lost (in a good way). We ended the evening with gelato at a nearby cafe--one of the new additions to the neighborhood since my last visit three years ago. My parents want to move now, which is kind of sad since the neighborhood is much better, in my opinion, since they now live in walking distance to a temple, outdoor swimming pool, and some basic retail shops and restaurants. Although would I be able to live amongst so many snobs? We drove back to my brother's house in Sugar House to end the late night.

(Not Much of a) Discovery Center

We woke up relatively early Friday morning so we could drive into downtown Salt Lake to visit the Discovery Center and catch an IMAX film at the planatarium--both things that we did as a family four years ago, and which didn't cost us a cent because of our OMSI membership. After finding parking at a nearby lot for only $2, we walked the few blocks to the Discovery Center. It left us a bit underwhelmed--we did appreciate the artificially-cooled air--as all of the exhibits seemed the same as on our prior visit (although this was Ian's first visit). But they really liked the IMAX movie, The Ultimate Universe, that we saw at the planetarium (Ian fell asleep within the first five minutes). It was a little past 1:00 now, and the boys wanted some lunch, so I took them to Applebee's, a place I knew all three would enjoy--and they did. They all ordered the same thing--the corn dog and fries package--and each ate all of his food. I tend to be less hungry when I'm moving around a lot in the heat, so the soup and salad more than sufficed for me. We drove close enough to Temple Square to see the Conference Center and the Salt Lake City Temple, but that was the extent of our visit. I'd love to walk around, go in the Visitor's Center, visit the church history museum, but I knew it would be suicide to drag the tired trio through what is mostly an adult attraction. I look forward to the day that my boys will be old enough to desire and appreciate such experiences. We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in Sugar House, and this is where I think I got them all hooked on the original Nintendo, which was stationed in the guest room that Meg and I and Ian shared on our visit. You'd think that old games would appeal mainly to those who grew up with them. But no. Bubble Bobble, Mike Tyson's Punch Out, Kirby, etc. entertained the kids for hours.

Visit to a New Canyon

The three oldest Asay grand-kids

The Asays met up at Thanksgiving Point late Saturday morning to enjoy an outing in American Fork Canyon. My younger sister, her husband, and their three boys; my older brother, his wife, and their three kids; and my parents--driving their new Subaru Outback--comprised the caravan. Although we met next to the highway that would take us directly to our destination, construction made us take a very long detour back towards Salt Lake. During the middle of this, my Dad grew impatient and sped to the front of the caravan and proceeded to take us on a much longer detour over the mountain--very tough for us mini-vans in the back to keep up. We eventually found parking and staked our spot along what I think was the Provo River again. We roasted hot dogs, brats, and marshmallows, and the nine kids enjoyed building their own mini-rivers and reservoirs in the dirt and rocks lining the riverbank. The many trees and the coolness emanating from the river made our three-hour stay feel much more bearable.

No fear Eddie

After driving back to Salt Lake, my brother took us over to his friend Manny's house. Manny maintains a menagerie of unusual birds, including two emus, which he let the kids feed apples. Ed showed no fear chasing the emus around, despite warnings that if he got too close they would probably kick his face in all the way to the emergency room of the hospital.

Shortly after returning to my brother's house, Meg triumphantly returned from her sojourn, and all three boys ran outside screaming joyfully.

Sunday with the Mormons in Salt Lake

Yeah, my head is bigger than the moon

I love going to church early in the morning. I don't think Meg does, though, as she slept right through bacon and backyard-fresh eggs cooking and all of us leaving. Throughout our stay I frequently thought why the LDS chapels--which you see everywhere--have parking lots, because the congregations' boundaries rarely extend beyond a few blocks. Yet we were one of the few groups who actually walked to church--silly Utahans. Ian refused to go to nursery, and as a guest I wasn't about to push a crying kid on them, so we spent a lot of time walking the halls.
After church Meg--she did make it for the concluding worship meeting--immediately retreated to the bed in the basement for a power nap before the long drive to Oregon. I entertained the kids upstairs with my awesome mad lib skills. The key to a funny mad lib, I believe, lies in the delivery: you need to read with gusto and add as much drama as possible. After a filling dinner of pork and rice and vegetables--the last healthy food we'd have over the next day--we loaded the van and said what felt like a premature good-bye.

You Can Pump Your Own Gas in Oregon

Sunset over Daybreak

We left around 5:00 p.m. under cloudy skies--the first tainting of the sun we had since arriving a week earlier. The boys were well-behaved--perhaps a little excited to return to their own world in Oregon--through Utah and into Idaho. As the sun set and night rose, we began to see bolts of light flash in the distant sky. After refueling in Mountain Home and fixing the blowout that had become Ian's diaper, the lighting became intense. We could see bolts every few seconds, and we could see them hitting the ground. Then we started seeing fires that must have been the result. The excitement continued to about Boise, where we all more or less fell asleep. I was in and out of consciousness the whole drive, but at least I had that luxury. Meg, ever stalwart, guided us safely home without issue. The last stop we made, around 1 or 2 in the morning, I think, was at a gas station just a little east of Pendleton. There were quite a few cars there, but that wasn't the strange part: the signs on the gas pumps declared "self-serve only." What? You can't pump your own gas in Oregon. It must have been that we were on an Indian reservation, and normal state laws don't apply. I wonder what else they can do? Maybe they should build a casino--surely that would bring in tons of revenue. Anyway, we arrived home about 4:30 a.m. and moved to our beds to catch a few hours of sleep. After I unloaded the van I also hit the sack for an hour of napping before I rode off to the office for a day of work. I had planned on taking the day off, but we came home earlier than I expected and was feeling as rested as could be expected. Call me crazy, but I'd rather use that day-off for more important things.

Camping on San Juan Island

2011-07-05T22:39:00.000-07:00

"You have to stop and pick up some cherries for us. They're only a buck a bucket, and the buckets are huuuuuuge. It's on the corner of Commercial and 22nd. We were following someone so we couldn't stop and pick some up ourselves."

So went the edict from one of the traveling caravan's passengers that I received on Meg's cell phone as we approached Anacortes. We had just embarked on a four-day, three-night car-camping adventure to San Juan Island, and we were minutes away from arriving at the ferry terminal. I honestly didn't want to stop for something so trivial (but which was professed to be of such profound importance), but we did anyway. The owner of the fruit stand, however, employed deceitful tactics to lure in wary out-of-towners: the purported "huge" buckets, which went for $7, easily dwarfed the advertised $1 buckets, which held about 10 cherries. (Meg gave the woman the finger on our return to Portland--suck my pit, fruit demoness). Even though we spent a seemingly trivial four minutes sidelined, Meg feared our spot on the 11:55 a.m. ferry was being taken by one of the many cars that passed us. She was right.

We ended up on stand-by and missed the boat by six cars. Our reward: more than three hours of waiting in a giant parking lot with thousands of other people (well, maybe hundreds). The weather was sunny, and we brought Ian's bike--which I swear is the answer for world peace, as everyone's worries and frustrations melt away after seeing the toddler power himself by. And Aaron, who had departed a day earlier with his Booren grandparents and spent Friday night on a submarine base, was still behind us (and ended being like one of the last 10 cars on the 2:00 ferry), so it was nice to trade him for his 17-year old cousin, Parker--the visiting Sherwood celebrity socialite, whom we had early traded Aaron for. While we waited in limbo as the stand-by cars loaded one at at time, one of the neighboring drivers (who was also from Portland) suggested we hold a wrestling match for the right to go next. Ian and Ed took him up on the challenge: Eddie slapped the guy's butt a few times and Ian rod over his feet with his bike (don't worry: it was all in jest).

The actual ride through the Strait of Juan de Fuca was quick, windy, and picturesque. I paired up with Edward and thus visited every square inch that was accessible to passengers, even though the ride was only about 75 minutes long.

Upon seeing the terminal at Friday Harbor, my mind for some reason recalled a scene from a pirate-themed movie--maybe Hook or Pirates of the Caribbean? Regardless, within 10 minutes of easy driving we were at our campsite. It was on a dead-end corner, which was nice, but it also backed right up to a lake. Ironically, I was most worried about Ian falling in, but he was the lone child of ours who did not. We brought two tents to share among our family: a 3-man tent for Meg and I, and a 100-man tent for the kids (and a different stray each night). Ian, however, wanted nothing to do with that. Even though he was up late every night and never got a decent nap, he slept seemingly like a newborn (but his screaming was much louder). The last night I spent in the boys' tent, but I swear I didn't sleep more than an hour at a time because of Ian.

We attended church early Sunday morning (they meet at different times, according to the schedule of the ferry) with the locals and all the other tourists on the island (we saw many BYU fanboys at our campground). It was funny that more people were there than our regular ward in Portland.

We spent Sunday afternoon along the coastline at a state park where orcas often frequent. We didn't see any though. We would return on Monday afternoon and, much to the delight of the throng, we saw a few pods that came pretty close to shore and put on a bit of a show. If my kids enjoyed it, then it was worth it (because I thought it a bit underwhelming).

Monday morning brought America's birthday and a parade in Friday Harbor. It has been many years (decades? Japan maybe?) since I've been to a parade, but I actually liked it (it helped that there were a few vintage cars in the mix). Afterwards we parted ways with the Booren bunch and visited the Pig War picnic for take-out lunch and headed to English Camp (a fitting pro-America activity for July 4), which is apparently where British forces staged themselves after some pig was killed. The amazing thing was that it only took like 13 years to resolve their differences and leave the island for good. I love eating pigs probably more than anyone (especially since we don't eat it much in our house anymore), but that seems like a ridiculous reason to almost go to war. I was surprised to find the Booren's had also gathered at English Camp. While here some of us hiked to the 650-foot Young Mountain (one of us hiked to the top with a six-year old boy on his shoulders). The trail to the top was short but very steep, especially while carrying a 50-pound monkey on your back. But the view and easy descent were easily worth the effort.

After seeing the orcas at Lime Kiln part duex, we opted to return to our campsite for curry rice and a relatively early retirement to our tents, as I was up at 6:30 the next morning tearing down our camp in time for an 8:00 departure and another three-hour wait for the ferry. At least this time we could stroll through the shops in Friday Harbour, even though most were still closed at that early hour. We ended up driving Meg's sister-in-law Bre to PDX so she could catch a flight to SLC. Ian cried almost the whole time he wasn't napping. He will happily sit in a trailer for seeming forever on our bike rides and runs, so I don't know why he hates cars so much.

Meg and I discussed maybe returning some day, but ditching the car and the kids. We'd ride the ferry as foot passengers and then hitchhike around the island if we were motivated to see anything beyond Friday Harbor.

Midnight in Paris

2011-06-25T22:20:00.000-07:00

Have you ever walked to the movie theater? Our local cinema center is just .8 miles away--an easy and pleasant walk, especially at the beginning of summer. I met Meg there to watch Midnight in ~~Portland~~ Paris--a perfect fit, as the theater opened in 1926, and the movie was romanticizing this same time period. The theatre was as packed as I've ever seen it--mostly with older men and women, thus eliciting my often "We're the youngest ones here" line that I often drop when attending events in the neighborhood, and which Meg promptly refutes. Apparently I have a self-inflated image of how young I am.

One of the benefits of walking home from a movie is that both Meg and I could freely discuss our reactions. She thought I bore strong resemblance to Owen Wilson's character (and we're not just talking the gigantic noses, the genuine charm with the ladies, and the goofy sense of humor), if you substitute the 80's for the 20's. Sure, I like music from the 80's, but just as much as I do the 90's or the 00's or the 10's. Of course Pee Wee Herman is a great movie, but just as good as Napolean Dynamite. So we disagreed, but just being able to walk home and have that friendly discussion was fabulous.

Tribute to Andre Miller

2011-06-23T21:30:00.000-07:00

Andre Miller was the first NBA player I ever saw play the game live and in person (I'm choosing to ignore the actual first instance--but he wasn't NBA material). It was the first game of the 1998-99 season between the University of Utah and Utah State, in Logan. The Utes last competition was the national championship game the previous season, so it was huge to see them play in Logan. The Aggies won. I don't remember being excited to see Andre play, but I had heard of him and thought he would be a good player at the next level.

Fast forward 10 years and Andre Miller signs with the Trailblazers, my favorite team. The team foolishly tried to make him the back-up point guard behind all-world talent, Steve Blake. That didn't last long, fortunately, and 'Dre proved his worth time and time again, to the point you could argue he was one of the team's top overall players and most valuable pieces. He had also won me over as my favorite Blazer (and this was before we knew Roy had no knees). Even though he and I are the same age, he really hasn't shown any signs of slowing down and losing his edge.

But apparently Andre was a tasty trade target, as his contract wasn't guaranteed for the next year, and sure enough he was gone on draft day. I had heard rumors throughout the day, but I hoped they would all fizzle out. I was watching the draft at home when I heard the final news. I pounded my fists into the couch, semi-screaming for it not to be true. Ian, the only other one at home, stood behind me and laughed uncontrollably. Ian is mostly a social laugher, getting in his giggles only when those around him do, so this tells you how low I had sunk. I've never been this attached to a player before--not even my beloved Dodgers back in the 80's (I'm not really a fan of them anymore). I still don't understand why I responded with such emotion. At least he will be playing for Denver--the same division as Portland--so I should see him as much as any other opposing player, assuming the lockout doesn't kill all of next season. Best of luck, Andre--I'll miss seeing you lead the Blazers to victory.

My favorite memories of 'Dre are as follows:

Andre Miller Dunks
'Dre plays low to the ground, which probably fuels his longevity for the game. But I couldn't believe what happened on this--his one and only dunk as a Blazer. I think his son was attending the game and had teased him before the game about never dunking.

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Andre Miller Lobs to Batum for the Last-Second Winning Shot
Aaron and I were at the Rose Garden for what most fans consider the most incredible game of the season. I will cherish this always. Aaron called me "crazy" after seeing me celebrate.

Andre Drops 52 on Dallas
Nobody could stop 'Dre this night, as his points came from everywhere, including from behind the 3-point arc.

'Dre for 3
Andre is one of the worst 3-point shooters in the league. Most cringe when they see him take one from behind the arc. I love it when he does, however, because it means he's wide open and has all the time to face the basket, set his feet, and launch it. It's never pretty, but it's one of the most exciting sights when it does go down.

Father's Day

2011-06-19T14:15:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a culture that did not celebrate Father's Day. At least that's what my memory tells me. So it has been a decade-long transition period of letting my wife and kids worship me for a day. This was an uncomfortable thing at first, but now I wish they would treat me like this every day.

They let me sleep in and brought me breakfast in bed, with both Edward and Ian helping me eat it. Usually I'm up at dawn with Ian, feeding or changing him. But today I got a free pass. They presented me with gifts: a belt made out of a bicycle tire, with a star wars-themed buckle; a drawing Ed had made (with me as Darth Vader--yes!--and him as Luke); a dinosaur magnet that Aaron had made at school; and a hammock (which has been sitting in the garage for a few weeks now). At church the women presented all of the fathers with chocolate dipped Oreo balls. Even though they had cream cheese in them, I enjoyed them and hounded them for more. The primary aged kids--including Aaron and Ed--sang a couple of songs for us, although Ed did not participate and Aaron scowled the whole time. I think the next four years of primary are going to be tough for him, as he is clearly way too mature for it. Ian also presented me a nice bonus gift: falling asleep in my arms so I could also rest peacefully in a room by myself.

On Saturday night Aaron interviewed me. He thought he was being coy, but it was obvious he was trying to figure out what my ideal way to spend Father's Day, which would be: napping outside, in the sun, in the clutches of a hammock; and watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy all day (extended versions, of course). I think Aaron was genuinely disappointed that he couldn't give me what I really wanted.

Trip to Newport

2011-06-17T22:15:00.000-07:00

"Are you the lady from Lincoln City? You actually drove from Lincoln City just to get happy meals for your kids?" So said the assistant manager at the McMinnville McDonald's drive-thru to Meg, who had escalated her displeasure that they no longer had any Pokemon-themed happy meals, which had just been released today. I continued staring out the window, embarrassed, but listening intently to see how the drama would play out. The two women vigorously traded banter until some other underling discovered that he had found more of the Pokemon toys--but to Meg's disdain, she would have to park the van and go inside to place her order. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that I wouldn't have to witness any more of this first-hand. I coached the kids to be over-complimentary when they received their food, and they responded perfectly when Meg returned a few minutes later with Pokemon-themed happy meals. I failed to observe any change in her outward appearance. Had her angered simmered away? Was she still hot and provokeable? After closing the door and fastening her seat belt, she said "I got a coupon for smoothies: buy one get one free. Let's go through he drive-thru again. What kind do you want?" Uh oh. Was this just an excuse to engage the lowly McDonald's employees again? No. Meg was polite and even introduced herself as "The Lincoln City Lady." I'm always amazed at how quickly Meg gets over things. And thus ended our three-day jaunt to Newport.

Wednesday began with a 6.5 mile run through the neighborhood. I had Ian in the bike trailer, and Eddie joined me by bike and finished without too much complaint, even though he crashed on some gravel in the early stages. The rain poured on us for the last quarter of the run, but the boys didn't seem to care. After showers and lunch, we departed for three days and two nights of vacationing in Newport, on the central Oregon coast. Meg had procured lodging at the Holiday Inn Express, just a short walk from the Oregon Coast Aquarium, which was the spotlighted event on your itinerary. The rain had let up after leaving Portland and returned for only a brief period Thursday morning, while we were still sleeping, thus keeping our lengthy streak of good weather at the coast alive.

The Inn had an indoor swimming pool, of course, and the boys spent many, many hours submerged in its depths. Aaron knows how to swim and requires no supervision. Ed does not know how to swim, but he knows his limits and how to remain safe. Ian plays in the pool with reckless abandon, evidenced by his jumping into the pool--all of which has a depth greater than his height--without much care if someone was there to catch him. On our first visit to the pool, he would sink to the bottom if someone didn't keep him afloat; but on the second day, he learned to pop back up to the surface after making the plunge.

On Thursday morning we walked to the aquarium under cloudy but non-threatening skies. I had hoped to spend the entire day here, but after entering through the gates I realized how shortsighted this was: a) it was a lot smaller than I remember (my only visit happening way back in 1996) and b) the kids weren't as interested as I thought they would be. Not that anyone had a miserable time--far from it; but they wanted to go to the beach at lunch time. So after lunch at Abby's, we drove to Agate Beach, where it was mixed clouds, fierce winds, and no warmth except when snuggled next to Meg. But the kids didn't care: they spent hours building sand structures near the ocean and running free and wild. We ate leftover pizza and breadsticks at the hotel for dinner (and maybe a few bags of popcorn).

Meg has created a tradition of sorts by letting the kids pick a souvenir to commemorate their travels. Aaron had picked some colored glass balls, Meg a birdhouse, and Edward a pop gun from a pirate-themed shop (I had already smuggled two big, beautiful rocks from the beach; they now guard the rock path alongside our house). Before heading out of town we made one last stop at Yaquina Head. I had joked that we shouldn't stop here again, since our previous visit led to a multi-day hospital stay for Aaron. Despite Yaquina Head's beauty, I truly think it is cursed for our family.

While the lighthouse is the main draw, we first spent time at the tide pools and then at the interpretive center, waiting for the lighthouse to open for tours. While waiting in line, of the park's employees--dressed in early 20th century garb--told stories of what it might have been to be the wife of the lighthouse keeper. She also told Ed that he would have to leave his pop gun--which he hadn't put down since he picked it out at the shop--at the bottom. Ed objected, but she assured him that it would be safe under her watchful eye. I waited at the bottom with Ian, as he was too short to make the journey to the top, while Meg accompanied the older boys. As soon as Meg returned, I gave her the sleeping beast that Ian had transformed into, while Ed joined me on my trip to the top. After we came down, Ed looked for his pop gun, but it was nowhere in sight. Meg or Aaron probably took it outside with them. Upon finding them I asked if they had the pop gun. No. They hadn't seen it. I thought they were joking, because we had searched the lighthouse thoroughly before asking them. We returned and asked the park employee if she had seen it--maybe she had put it somewhere safer. She looked at me like I was stupid and said that she had already saw my son take it. She clearly didn't know who Ed was, because she let some other random kid take it. Eddie was as upset as he ever has been and took maybe 30 minutes or so to expunge his anguish. We never did find the culprit. Being that this was our concluding activity before returning home, it tainted the experience for me, and helped Meg become the "lady from Lincoln City."

Sad Confessional

2011-05-27T15:00:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make: I have never seen the movie Toy Story (nor its sequel--I did see Toy Story 3 a few weeks ago, though). As weak as an excuse as it is, it came out during my two-year hiatus from most things pop-culture, and I've never made the effort to watch it, even while raising three young boys. I bring this up because it fit so well with my favorite movie critics' question of the week, about which movie I'm ashamed that I've never seen. Of all the times Eric and Jeff have discussed my submission, I think today was my favorite. Have a listen below to the excerpt.

New Biker Bros.

2011-05-14T23:11:00.000-07:00

Eddie has been showing signs that he is ready to ditch his training wheels, so Meg took them off yesterday and helped him a couple of times until he was comfortable riding on his own. And now he rides like a pro. His transformation was quite similar to Aaron's: he read a book at school that sparked his interest in riding on just two wheels. He's very confident and had no trouble with the 6.5 mile round trip ride to OMSI this morning.

And Ian got a new bike the other day. You might notice that his bike has no pedals, no chain, no gears, and no brakes. It's a pretty simple, lightweight bike that allows the rider to focus on one thing: balance. A co-worker introduced me to the idea and it sounded like it was a great way to teach kids how to ride a bike. Ian has really enjoyed this new bike, and it will be interesting to see how he progresses as he grows up.

Life As a Single Dad

2011-05-09T22:19:00.000-07:00

Meg left town (on Amtrak) Thursday afternoon to visit her friend Susan in Seattle for five fun-filled, fantastic days free from husband, children. and testosterone. But wait, you say, doesn't that mean she wasn't around for Mother's Day? Why, yes, that is exactly right. Not everyone likes hearing flowery stories about their perfect mother at church; in fact, it makes many women feel terrible, because in reality none measures up, no matter how good she is. Sometimes, mom is the one who burns the bacon. Regardless, I fully supported her leaving and was looking forward to some time away from the office to focus on my children. I made a list of things I wanted to do, and asked the kids to do the same (which they didn't do), but even though I didn't accomplish everything on the list, it helped me avoid just playing Angry Birds all day (I still haven't achieved three stars on every level--blasted pigs!).

These five days taught me the difference between stay-at-home dads and single dads. Fulfilling one role is clearly better than the other. Thursday didn't really count, as Meg was there for part of the day, so it was more like she was working at a dance team competition or playing volleyball in her league.

Friday started out with me thinking that I was a stay-at-home dad. I was able to go on a long, slow, whimsical run while pushing Ian in the bike trailer. We stopped at Johnson Creek Park, which we had to ourselves for the hour we were there playing and exploring and spying on herons and throwing rocks into the creek. I felt like Ed and I bonded while we chatted and walked home from school. And I savored being able to deep-fry pounds of cod for dinner. Even though there was a bit of structure with the kids' school schedule, I hadn't felt this free for a long time. It was awesome. After dinner we watched a movie I've wanted to introduce to the boys: Pee Wee's Big Adventure. Aaron found it so funny that he almost laughed himself into a coughing-induced asthma attack, and I can tell it influenced Eddie, as he practiced doing Pee-Wee-esque tricks on his bike later in the week.

Once the weekend hit, however, I soon realized that I was actually a single dad, with no hope of reinforcement. I loathe traveling with the kids in the car (I'd rather bike together, even though that is probably the more difficult option), but I manned up and took them to the Bird Festival at Sellwood Park early Saturday morning; it helps when one of your kids labels the activity "like the best festival event of the year." All three seemed to have had a marvelous time (and I'm grateful that Aaron has matured to the point where I can trust him to wander around by himself and find me later--two are much easier to mange than three). We had to leave early, however, as Aaron had a birthday party to attend at Pietro's Pizza in Milwaukie. But that was okay because the clouds burst as soon as we closed the doors to the van, and it rained the whole drive to Milwaukie (and then stopped immediately when we arrived). While Aaron partied with his friends--and even ate part of a slice of cheese pizza--I took the younger boys a few blocks away to the Portland Waldorf school playground, which was also hosting their May Faire celebration (something of a Renaissance fair, I think). They seemed content to hang there for the 75 minutes before we needed to return to pick up Aaron.The rest of the day was easy hanging out at home while it rained outside.

On Sunday morning, before we ventured off to church, we made a video greeting to send to the number one lady in our lives. You'll notice a few things about this: 1. There's a reason I don't get paid for my acting skills. 2. Even though he claims his lips don't hurt real bad, he needs someone to bring him some chapstick. 3. No one can tame Eddie. 4. Ian can melt the ice off of even the coldest of hearts. Unfortunately, she didn't watch it until after she had returned home.

<p>&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;I'm posting this before&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;</p>
Being at church was a nice break; it recharged my patience levels and enabled me to deal with the children in a level-headed manner. Ed was assigned to give a talk in his primary class, but he choose instead to have me deliver it--and I had the kids rolling on the ground in laughter at my comedic words and gestures--in exchange for being banned from all video games until Meg returned.

I've never been so glad to wake up to a Monday before. With Aaron and Eddie back in school for the whole day, Ian and I were able to do whatever the heck I wanted to do, which included another, even longer run, another date at the park, and an Ian-led ramble through the neighborhood before walking over to Llewellyn to pick up #1 and #2. We stopped at QFC to buy flowers (for Meg) and donuts (for Aaron and Ed) before returning home for a few hours.

All day my allergies were attacking me hard. It was my fault, as I spent most of the day out-of-doors, but I couldn't resist one more, allergy-inducing activity: taking the boys to to Crystal Springs Rhododendron Gardens (another Portland treasure so close to us) in Eastmoreland, with a promise of Slurpees at 7-11 afterward. The boys easily biked the less than two miles to the park entrance, and Ian was so quiet in the trailer that he could have jumped out and gone his own adventure, for all I knew. This was my third trip to the gardens (previous visits were in summer and winter) but first with all of the kids. Edward and Ian and both been before and realized it when we arrived. But Aaron, maybe two minutes after passing through the gate, mused, "I want to become addicted to this place. It's amazing that everything here is so natural." My kids continue to amaze me with their depth of observation. Meg says, similarly, "When did Aaron suddenly become a tween?" It's called the Booren genetic disposition to mature early, since I was one of the shortest and skinniest kids in my class for most of my life (I didn't fully reach 6'0" until I was 20 and in Japan). I was tempted several times to go Angry Dad on the kids, but I held my composure (mostly), and I think we all thoroughly enjoyed being there together.

Two minutes of bike riding brought us to the nearest 7-11, where we enjoyed sweet, delicious slurpees, and I enjoyed watching what is probably one of 7-11's most liberal crowds (Reed College is across the street). We all rode home without incident (Ed has become a pretty strong rider) and went to bed, dreaming of our wife and mother to return. Although Meg has relayed to me some of the things she experienced on her trip, please petition her en masse to write about her adventures on her blog.

Family Night at Oaks Bottom

2011-05-02T22:17:00.000-07:00

We walked to Oaks Bottom for a family activity tonight. It's a Portland treasure that's only a half-mile from our house. Several landslides had closed the park for several months, but it had just re-opened a couple days ago. We just hiked along some of the different trails, enjoying the fresh air and the warm sunshine.

Rose Garden Viewing Party

2011-04-16T22:51:00.000-07:00

I took the older boys to a free party at the Rose Garden to watch the Blazers play in their first playoff game of the season. We took the bus, of course, which brought a happy cheer out of Aaron. Unfortunately, the highlight was at half-time watching Eddie break-dance in the aisles.

I normally won't blame the refs for my team playing poorly, but even Aaron could tell that they weren't blowing the whistle fairly on both ends of the floor. Aaron also spent most of the game sitting quietly in his chair, commenting about how he thought the crowd was funny for cheering on the Blazers and doing the normal game chants even though the Blazers couldn't hear them (I had the exact same thought, too).

I apologize for the poor visuals; they are from my cell phone.

Roller Skating

2011-04-08T23:17:00.000-07:00

Some of Meg's friends invited her to go roller skating with them at Oaks Park; her sister Nichole kindly volunteered to babysit the boys, so I tagged along (just to make the following video, of course).

I thought it funny that her friends said I was a good skater. I started roller skating around the time I was in kindergarten (before it was required at public schools), since our school took trips to Salem's Skate Palace every-other-month. I even had my own pair of skates and used to pretend to be a member of the US Olympic hockey team from 1980 and would frequently reenact their victory over the USSR at make-believe matches in our garage using my great-grandpa's cane as a hockey stick, a wiffle ball for a puck, and laundry baskets for goals. But I can't do much of anything other than go forward at a rapid pace without falling. But it's a decent workout, I enjoy it, and Meg put up with my antics and had a good time despite me.

Chewing Chicken

2011-03-31T23:08:00.000-07:00

I occasionally label my three children as the following, based on their stereotypical eating habits:

Aaron the granarian (Aaron subsists almost entirely on cereal, bread, pasta, and rice)
Edward the vegetarian (the kid loves carrots and broccoli and once devoured peas from my hand)
Ian the carnivore (he now only eats dinner from my plate, and it almost always involves just my meat)

You might be surprised how much
those cheeks can hold . . .

We had a chicken curry concoction last night, and Ian kept asking for more and more chicken. I obliged, of course, but failed to see that he was chewing it only briefly before packing it away in his cheeks. After only a few minutes, his mouth was completely full of partially chewed chicken, which he stubbornly refused to swallow or spit out. Come bedtime, Ian had not appeared to make any progress on dinner, and that's how he fell asleep.

Ian woke up just before 7 the next morning, and I prepared a bowl of cereal for his breakfast, which he usually likes to eat right after he wakes up. I had completely forgotten about the chicken until he whined about not being able to fit his captain crunch in his mouth--because the chicken was still in there. This had gone on too far, but I still couldn't coax him to relinquish his hold on the chicken. I applaud the boy for not wanting to waste his food, but this was ridiculous. Meg eventually scooped the nasties from his mouth, but not without a fight: he actually bit her in the process. Perhaps the worst part--besides making us out to be the worst parents on earth--was how bad his breath smelled, even after a thorough brushing of his teeth.

Garden Update

2011-03-28T22:07:00.000-07:00

The gravel here makes for a funner gardening experience.

When we bought our house a few months ago, the yard was probably the last thing on our minds. Now that the sun has returned (somewhat) and the days are longer, we've spent some time improving the outside of the house.

And the gravel here will keep our feet free
from mud when we need to make a late
night run for Pepsi in the backup fridge
in the garage.

Today we had a cubic yard of pea gravel delivered, and the whole family happily shoveled and wheel-barrowed and spread it throughout a few pre-planned points: in between the garden boxes in front; along a path that I prepared on Saturday (removing some sod and moss, and framing it with some scrap wood that a neighbor let me have), as we needed a better, cleaner way to get to the garage from the house; and the leftovers went to the side of the house, which was enough for another path to get to the back porch from the front yard. The gravel has made a huge visual difference, and the level of muddiness around the yard has decreased dramatically. What surprised me the most was that Meg and the boys had finished most of the work before I arrived home from the office.

Urban Journals Part 8: Raised Garden Beds

2011-03-19T19:56:00.000-07:00

It seems like at each house we've had less and less outdoor space to grow our own food; this house is no exception. Fortunately, the previous owner ripped out a bunch of densely-planted shrubbery (which one of the neighborhood boys said used to always eat his baseballs) before we moved in. The sun shines nearly all day in this spot, so it's a great place for vegetables to grow. Working together, Meg and I put together a couple of raised garden beds in a day. It cost about $10 for the frame (recycled products), $30-40 for the organic bedding material, and a few bucks for the starter plants. I still have lots of seeds that I have saved from previous seasons, so we'll have lots of different options (just not much space) this spring. We plan to lay down some pea gravel in between the beds, which should improve the drainage of paths, make it a nicer place to work, provide a more aesthetic-looking garden, and create a place for the young-lings to play with their cars and trucks. Props to Meg for procuring all of the materials, designing the boxes, manning the power tools, and surviving Nerf dart attacks from the kids.

I Am Network Man

2011-03-12T22:26:00.000-08:00

Aaron and Edward's school holds an auction every year to raise money for things that the school district doesn't/can't afford to fund. I'm not sure what these things are, but I believe in the cause. Last year, even though we'd been in the neighborhood only for two weeks, Meg volunteered us to help with some minor tasks (I don't even remember what we did); this year she volunteered me to set up and manage the computer network necessary for registering the attendees and for processing all of the auction purchases. Oh dear.

Even though I earned my CCNA once upon a time, my confidence wasn't brimming at the prospect of setting everything up from scratch. It took a little work and research, but I was able to patch together all of the borrowed equipment and confirmed it was working a few hours before the auction began. We processed hundreds of people and over $47k in transactions for the evening--all without a hitch. I think my CCNA instructor would be pleased; I was relieved more than anything; a public flogging was imminent had I failed.

The auction was held at the Sellwood Masonic Lodge, a an 80-year old building in the heart of Westmoreland. Apparently the Masons in the area are becoming extinct and sold their building a few years ago (perhaps a foreshadow of what will happen to the Mormon congregation soon). They still rent part of the building, but their co-habitants make for a hillarious combination (it's a new-age, mystic shaman-healer--but maybe that isn't all that strange a combination).Every person had to walk over the Square and Compass symbol covering the entrance. Probably nobody thought twice about it--especially since there weren't any other practicing Mormons in attendance (as far as I knew)--but I thought it was cool.

While I donated my time and skills to the auction, Meg donated a couple of services that fetched some actual money: her bread-of-the-month club sold for $54 and her cookies-of-the-month club sold for $36 (she also helped by bidding up many items, indirectly earning more money for the school; buying several different items for herself; and helped with processing many of the transactions). Meg's goodies have made her into a cult figure at my office, and I predict that her baked-goods-clubs will soon achieve cult status at Llewellyn and garner an even higher price next year.

The Two Gentlemen of Portland

2011-03-06T21:10:00.000-08:00

Eric

Do you remember the first time you saw your name printed in the newspaper? Or what about that time you were the tenth caller and won two tickets to a Depeche Mode concert (and it wasn't about the tickets--it was all about hearing yourself go wild on the air, for all your friends to hear)? And you'll never forget the pride that swelled within as you watched a local television reporter interview you for the 6:00 news, right? Yeah, me too. But none of that compares to the nirvana-like experience of being a regular contributor to the Movie BS with Bayer and Snider Internet radio program. And there's no reason you too can't have this same transcending experience.

Jeff

If you watch movies--and I know everyone does--you need to listen to Jeff and Eric, as they will guide you to the movies you should see, and help you avoid wasting your time and money on the rest of the crap out there. But these two men don't just review movies for a living; they have begun forming a global network that, with the right catalyst (i.e., apocalyptic event, such as an asteroid hitting the earth and killing most of its inhabitants), will rise to power and begin a new world order. If you want part of the action, you need to send an e-mail to the guys (moviebspdx@gmail.com). Be sure to tell them BarefootMike sent you and that you want to be a team leader for your respective dwelling place. Then listen every Friday morning at 11:00--or download the podcast from their web site or from iTunes, and don't forget to like them on Facebook and follow them on Twitter--and prepare for your weekly dose of nirvana.

The following are examples of how I've found a place on Movie BS:

Brother Jamin Visits

2011-02-19T21:22:00.000-08:00

My younger brother Jamin (of pig and goat fame) came for a short visit this weekend, as he was interviewing for a position at Linfield College in the relatively nearby hamlet of McMinnville. We picked him up at PDX and he stayed with us for two crazy days and nights of non-stop fun and laughs and amazement--not to mention all of the records that he set on our copy of Wii Fit. He survived OMSI with the young monsters, grocery shopping with Meg, walking around the neighborhood to get Slurpee's at 7-11, and a bicycle adventure through Southeast Portland (mostly hipster-free). On this ride--which was in full sun and mild temperatures--I rode my Trek with Ian attached in a bike trailer, while Jamin rode the Black Sheep. Before winding up the nearly-nine mile ride, we stopped at the Crystal Springs Rhododendron Garden. After locking up the bikes, we took Ian on a walk through the gardens, which he absolutely loved. He walked right up to the ducks and geese--some even let him pet them (I am a terrible parent, I know)--and he just loved being able to run around a new and exciting place. When Ian realized that I was loading him back into the bike trailer, he started screaming and didn't stop until we were a good five minutes away (his favorite thing to do is to wander around aimlessly out-of-doors).

The De-evolution of My Feet

2011-02-01T22:20:00.000-08:00

Many of you know that I have scrapped shoes and go barefoot as much as possible. That doesn't mean I actually walk around outside in my bare feet--I'm not (that) stupid, you know. My family gave me my first pair of Vibram FiveFingers (VFF) for father's day last year, and I've been wearing them every day since.

Being active--specifically running--has been a part of my life for so long, that I had to take a risk to see if something so seemingly strange could really help me back. I first thought running barefoot was just a new fad that would fade soon enough, but I am a believer--being barefoot has saved me. My knees no longer hurt, my lower legs/feet/ankles are stronger than ever, and I'm running as fast as I ever have in my 30's (once the kids came, I just couldn't justify the time needed to compete at a high level anymore). People ask me about my VFF's all the time, and I happily relate my story and recommend that they buy a pair for themselves.

So, should you be considering a pair for yourself? Absolutely. Even Meg has a pair that she wears on occasion. The only downside is that the VFF's don't provide any warmth, so if the mercury drops below freezing, your feet are going to hurt (you can buy special socks that fit well with the VFF's, but I don't recommend them. They cost about $12-15/pair, and they take away a lot of the barefoot experience). And when it's wet and cold--which is what winter is like in the Willamette Valley--your feet stay wet and cold forever. I've dedicated wearing my first pair only when I run (or workout), and my other pair I wear at work and for other general activities. They also don't work well for cycling, so I wear my old running shoes when commuting to the office and pack my VFF's for when I get there.

Part of me still feels this is going to become a fad and everyone else will return to conventional shoes, but I can't imagine ever doing so myself . This is a new way-of-life for me, just as running has always been.

Portland Mocu-drama

2010-12-31T14:15:00.000-08:00

Apparently there is a television show about Portland that will be debuting this winter. Here is a glimpse of what it's like to live here. We actually live a little south of hipster-ville, but we can catch glimpses of it every now and then.

The Final Move

2010-12-30T21:50:00.001-08:00

Our Westmoreland Keeper

For the second time this year, we moved to a new house in Southeast Portland. Both Meg and I hope it will be the last.We had originally planned to buy a townhouse in Sellwood, about a half-mile from where we where renting a house, but the deal eventually fell through. We were a little shocked when this happened, but we immediately began looking for something else and found something better. Technically, this house is in Westmoreland, but it's basically the same neighborhood as Sellwood. I'm 1.5 miles closer to work; the boys are about the same distance from school, although they won't be able to ride the bus anymore; and we're about 1.5 miles away from our church. Aaron even has a friend who lives two doors down (and his twin sister is in his class). We have a little more finished square footage in this house, five bedrooms, an unfinished (but usable) basement, a little backyard, and a detached two-car garage. It was built in 1922, but it has been updated a lot, and Meg has been busy painting, building bookshelves, and generally making it more beautiful, more functional, more ours.

Here are the specifics:

Living Room

Master Bedroom

Living Room: It has enough room for all of our sitting furniture, Meg's computer, and the TV. A fireplace sits along one of the walls, and a large picture window faces the front of the house.
Kitchen: It has an old fridge (although Meg just called to say she may have found a new, bigger one for a great deal) and electric range, but the cabinets are plentiful and constructed of solid wood, and the dining area has enough space for our 60"x60" table. There is also a small, narrow space below the dining area that we intend to use as a timeout/homework area. It also has a sliding glass door to the back yard and garage.
Master Bedroom: It's on the main floor, just off the kitchen. It has a closet for both me and Meg (my closet also doubles as a recording studio when I'm recording narration tracks for my training videos), and a pretty big bathroom (although the bath/shower makes me feel larger than I really am).
Upstairs: There are four bedrooms upstairs. The older boys are sharing a large room, that also has a huge walk-in closet and two "caves." The other three are vanilla bedrooms: one for Ian, one for a media room, and one for boarders.
Basement: Our washer, dryer, furnace, water heater, and a sink reside here. It's just one big open space now, but we plan on finishing the space into a bedroom, bathroom/laundry room, and a living area. Meg's parents have called dibs on living here in the summer.
Garage: It has enough room to park two cars, although we only have one, so there is lots of space for bikes, food storage, boxes full of seasonal decorations, and miscellaneous stuff. It's also come in very handy as a place for Meg and her dad to work on projects related to the house.

Older Boys' Room

Back Yard

Yard: It's the middle of winter, so it's difficult to say how we can use the space, but while it is small in size, it's better than we had at the previous house. It has small patches of grass in the front and back; a long driveway on the east leading to the garage, which sits at the back of the lot; a dead zone on the west side; and we'll probably put in a small vegetable garden in the front of the house, just in front of the small, covered front porch. Chickens to follow later, I hope, once we get more established and have time to explore this new idea.

P.S. Now that we are here for good, I thought it appropriate to share this post I wrote 3.5 years ago that talked about when we were first attracted to the area. I published it for the first time today, so don't worry that you haven't read this before.

Aaron's Baptism

2010-12-26T23:31:00.000-08:00

In our church, kids can be baptized when they turn eight years old. Meg's family had mostly converged in Sherwood for Christmas, and my mom flew in from Salt Lake, so we had a large contingency attend the event.

Aaron was so excited about his baptism, I think he was looking forward to it more than Christmas.Although when we arrived at the church and got dressed and with everyone focusing on him, he got nervous and clingy. But after his baptism, he was singing in the changing room and said he felt different, better, very happy.

The Last Christmas

2010-12-25T23:58:00.000-08:00

Our family will probably remember Christmas 2010 as the time we moved, witnessed Aaron's baptism, and celebrated in Sherwood with the Boorens for the last time (Meg's parents' house is for sale, and they intend to move to Virginia). As such, we were overly-stressed and not able to relax and enjoy the normally joyous and fun season.
The Move
Meg and I had made several trips to the new house during the two weeks between the time we closed on the house and when we made the big move. so we didn't have much left to move but furniture when I brought home the rental truck on December 23rd. My friend Jon from church and I moved everything out of the old house and into the new house within two hours. Even though we only had a partially-filled 16-foot truck, loading and unloading everything literally drained all energy my arms had (my legs are always fine--I could have run a 1000 miles afterward if I had needed to). It would take us a few days to organize everything, but we were finally home.

Christmas Eve/Day

We drove to Meg's family's house in Sherwood around dinner time and ended up spending the night. We didn't have a single decoration up in either of our houses, so Meg wanted to be sure the kids could enjoy a proper Christmas morning. We hung out there all day and the boys enjoyed the few gifts they received, although the beyblades Eddie received seemed to be the favorite. We came home late that night and slept together as a family for the first time in the new house.

Aaron's Baptism

You can read about Aaron's baptism here. He deserved his own post.
Momma Asay Visits
My mom flew in Christmas night and stayed for a few days with us in the new house. She eventually revealed that she had received a Kindle for Christmas, so I spent a lot of time showing her some of the cool things she could do with it. I don't have a Kindle, but I sure know a lot about it (I plan on getting one soon). She and I also took the kids to OMSI on Tuesday morning. I had to take mom to the airport at 5-something in the morning, so afterward I drove to the old house and spent the entire morning cleaning.

Film Festival Failure

2010-11-01T13:35:00.000-07:00

My company sponsored a film festival for its employees. They sent us a Flip video camera, established a basic set of rules, and provided some nice prizes for the winners. I enlisted the entire family to create my entry. While we didn't win (or even make the final round of 12, out of I think 177 entries), we'll always have this video to remember the experience.

Update: I received a package from Corporate (early April 2011) that contained four of these chocolates. There was a letter accompanying the treats, but it did not explain anything.

Journey to the Center of the Cows

2010-10-16T15:41:00.001-07:00

We had planned to go camping to Florence with some friends, but they had to back out at the last minute, so we took the money and got a cheap hotel room in Tillamook (a small town on the Northern Oregon coast) for a couple of nights. The simple act of staying at a hotel is pure excitement for the older boys: we all sleep in the same room--a room with multiple beds!--we can go swimming or eat at the restaurant or work-out in the exercise room. We had decent weather one morning so we were able to visit a light house, the octopus tree, the beach, and the cheese factory without getting wet. But I think we most enjoyed the relatively new Tillamook Forest center. It's been months since we made this trip, so that is all.

The Pig and Goat Wedding

2010-09-27T21:52:00.000-07:00

My younger brother Jamin, a 10-year Senior at the University of North Carolina (at Chapel Hill) married his long-time girlfriend Emily on a farm outside of Chapel Hill, North Carolina. I flew out to support him and enjoy the celebration. My parents and most of my siblings also made the trip, so it served as a family reunion-lite. Obie (aka Jon) wasn't able to make it; Mistress Meg speculated that he was simply protesting Jamin choosing not to wed in a Mormon temple.

I was a bit nervous before I left, as I had never been east of Texas before (and I was only in Austin for a few days--otherwise I hadn't been east of the Rockies). The red-eye flight from PDX to Newark, New Jersey, was probably the most turbulent flight I've ever been on--trumping even a flight to Salt Lake City years ago that Meg and I thought we were going to crash and burn and die together (what a way to go!). Further complicating my plans to catch a few hours of sleep, I was sandwiched between a fat man and a large woman, both of whom had their fat oozing over their designated seats and preventing my body from having any room to stretch or even move to a different position. All things must end, and I was eventually rewarded with a short walk and bus ride through the Newark air terminal, which felt like the most racially diverse place I'd ever been. It was still dark when we landed, but as my flight to Raleigh lifted off the ground, I witnessed the sun bathing the Statue of Liberty and Manhattan island with its early morning rays. Having been to Tokyo a few times, I thought New York looked so much smaller in comparison. The short flight south to Raleigh felt like first-class--my own row (the plane was only half-full, at most), a light breakfast, and a beautiful dawn with which to study the verdant landscape.

Google's weather service promised me that North Carolina, while hot, was much less humid than Oregon. But when I stepped out of the Raleigh airport my shirt instantly stuck to my skin--and remained glued there for the duration of my trip. I had been tricked, despite common sense telling me otherwise. After picking up my sexy-black Town and Country mini-van (it was the cheapest option available--go figure), I drove onto the freeway thinking to see what the Triangle had to offer (forget about sleep--how many times do I have to travel alone to a far-away land?). Realizing that I had left my cell phone charger at home, I stopped at a Kroger market to see if I could find a cheap replacement, as I would rely upon my phone to coordinate meeting up with my family. After walking around the store--in part to get out of the nearly unbearable hot and sticky air outside--I went back to the van to continue on with my sight-seeing tour, having failed to find a compatible charger. I pulled out the remote to open the van, unlocked it, sat down, and realized I didn't have a key for the ignition. My heart stopped beating for a split second before I hopped out and started looking for a key, which I assumed must have fallen out of my pocket somewhere nearby. I scoured the parking lot, queried the Kroger lost-and-found, re-traced all of my steps, but to no avail. My phone was dead, so I couldn't even call my brother--even if I did have a charger to use, I couldn't use it because I wouldn't be able to start the van. Fortunately, there was a T-mobile store just around the corner, so after waiting for it to open, I explained my situation to one of the employees, who agreed to let me re-energize my phone for a few minutes (using a demo-phone's charger) so I could call Jamin and have him take me back to the airport and get another key to the van. I was able to get a hold of Jamin and he said he would be over right away to offer a hand. After walking back to the van thinking how idiotic I was---maybe my brain really did need some sleep after all--I sat down and played around with the van's remote, randomly inserting one end of it into the ignition. Surprisingly, it fit. So I turned it a notch, and lights went on. I turned it again, and the engine started. I had never actually had to insert the "key" into the ignition, as the rental car employee had brought the van to me and kept it running, so I never had the chance to see exactly what was on the keyring. Jamin arrived a few minutes later and, though I was thoroughly embarrassed, I felt great relief telling him that he could go back about his business as I had realized the error of my way.

My parents and older brother, Matt, were arriving later that evening, so I spent the rest of the day exploring Durham (and unsuccessfully trying to find downtown Raleigh)--mostly inside retail stores and shopping malls (the weather was literally killing me). My last stop was at Umstead State Park, where I spent a couple of hours wandering along woody trails with deer and squirrels. I may have even dozed off for 30 minutes while resting on a log. Eventually I drove back to the airport to pick up my brother and we drove to Chapel Hill to Emily's mom's house, who had invited all of us for a small, friendly get-to-know-one-another dinner. Driving around proved relatively difficult--not because we had never been to North Carolina before--but because the roads (particularly the freeways/highways) are lined with tall, thick trees, it's hard to see any landmarks or tell where the heck you are. But we made it and were warmly received into their gloriously-chilled townhouse. Maybe people are friendlier in the South, as nobody asked for ID or questioned who I was (or what I smelled like--it must have been days since I last had an opportunity to shower), although many people told me later that they instantly knew I was Jamin's brother because apparently we look, talk, and carry ourselves in very similar fashion. But if they had spent a little longer conversing with me, they would have realized that my brain is puny in comparison and I just do a really good job of fakin' it. My parents arrived a few minutes later, and we had a fun and fairly intimate time with the Matchar clan (which I appreciated being able to do without all the other wedding guests). By this time I could really feel my body beginning to shut down completely, to the point where I felt quite loopy. After the get-together Matt and I drove a few miles to Jamin's house, where an air mattress in his spare room proved to be one of the most heavenly resting places I've ever known.

The next morning (Friday) Jamin spent a few hours showing us around Chapel Hill, where he has lived for the last six years (despite my earlier and clearly false statement above). Even though it was still 95 degrees and like 132% humidity, my body finally began to adjust to the new conditions. We walked around the UNC campus, ate donuts from Krispy Kreme, and shopped at Trader Joe's and the Performance bike shop. I had noticed that there seemed so very little places to ride a bike safely (i.e., bike lanes or shoulders on the roads) and talked with one of the bike shop employees about it. He acknowledged my musings as fact and suggested that I sign a petition at the front of the store to encourage local government to change that. When I mentioned that I live in Portland, he got weak in the knees and said that if he ever visited he would likely never return to North Carolina. We all parted ways later that afternoon, as I had to return to the Raleigh airport to pick up my two sisters (and Megan's husband, Jared, and their daughter, Adri). After finding them we drove to the Celebrity Dairy, site of the wedding and pre-/post-parties. Friday night was a "rehearsal dinner." There was certainly a fine dinner--complete with three different flavors of goat milk ice cream--but there was no rehearsal going on. We all had rooms at the dairy--mine was in the third-floor attic--so it was nice and convenient to retire that evening.

I arose early Saturday morning to milk the goats. I thought there would be a long line of guests waiting to take a turn, but I was the only one there. Machines do all the work anyway, so there wasn't much to see. So I ran four miles in the North Carolina countryside, returning home a sweaty and tired mess. After breakfast and helping set up for the wedding festivities, my parents, Matt, and Maren went on a hike through the wooded acres of the farm. We got lost and ended up in some farmer's field (thankfully, no errant shots were fired at us for trespassing) but made it back to the dairy after two hours of good exercise. It was so good that I took a nap in my room, waking up just thirty minutes before the wedding was to start. I quickly got dressed (I even ironed my shirt and pants) and made it downstairs without issue. I enjoyed the ceremony with its simplicity, honesty, sincerity. I even shed some tears of joy (no, it wasn't just sweat dripping down my forehead--and No, Meg, I don't have proof). The star of the wedding dinner was a 125-pound pig, but it was late in showing up and caused much angst (not that there wasn't anything else to eat--oh, let me tell you how much good food there was to eat), but it was truly a sight to see (and eat). The party continued till about midnight, with lots of dancing--so much dancing that even all of the Asays were on the floor at one point (who would a'thunk it?).

Sunday was another day of chauffeuring siblings to the airport--Matt before breakfast and Megan/Jared/Adri after breakfast. I then successfully found my way into downtown Raleigh, although brother Jamin hinted at what I found to be true: it was dead. There were lots of tall buildings, but nothing was happening. Granted, it was Sunday--which I am suspecting the South recognizes as a Sabbath, unlike we heathens out west--but I was surprised at how different it was from Portland. I also toured the North Carolina state capitol building, which surprised me for how tiny it was (at least compared to Salem's capitol). Dark, threatening clouds had arrived, and I could sense that change was in the air. I drove back to the airport an hour earlier than I had planned, and right as I turned in my van to the rental agency, sheets of rain began falling from the sky, drenching the earth and its inhabitants. Even though I bore easily at airports, I much preferred being cool and dry than hot and wet. My flight went through Houston, Texas and only gave me a 45 minute lay-over, which proved more than enough time to move between gates and find my next plane. Anything is possible when you travel light and wear Vibram FiveFingers, which countless number of people asked me about. The best discussion of the FiveFingers was with a guy at the Houston airport, who took time out of his busy schedule picking up on the woman next to him to talk with me:

RandomGuy: Dude, what's it like wearing those toe shoes.
Me: It feels like being barefoot.
RandomGuy:No, what's it feel like.
Me: It feels like being barefoot.
RandomGuy: No, I mean what's it feel like.
Me: Well, since there's no support or cushioning [kind of like your brain, I'm discovering], it feels like you're barefoot.
RandomGuy: Oh, I see. Now quit bothering me so I can get this chick's phone number.

Even though I relished the time to see my extended family and explore somewhere new without worrying about what my feral kids were doing, I was ready to see Meg and the boys and enjoy the beautiful and temperate land that Oregon is.

Meg the Barber

2010-09-06T12:12:00.000-07:00

Meg gave us all haircuts the day before school started. She's always cut the boys' hair, but I've declined for several years, as it usually took a painfully-long hour to manage my mane. But after investing in a much better pair of clippers, she was able to make quick work of my mop-top. This also marked Ian's first haircut.

Oregon Symphony on the Waterfront

2010-09-02T22:17:00.000-07:00

Every year the Oregon Symphony performs a free concert at Waterfront Park the Thursday before Labor Day. We attended this concert when we lived in Beaverton, but after moving to Capital City we opted instead to run at the Bush Park fun runs that usually happened at the same time.

I walked to the park from the office, while Meg and crew came later (while parking at OMSI and walked over the Hawthorne bridge). Ian did okay for part of the time, but he grew restless and I spent much of the evening walking around with him in the backpack.

The symphony always concludes their concert with Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, and the National Guard fires rounds from numerous artillery guns stationed in a different part of the park, which Ian and I passed on our walkabout. Just before they were to fire their guns, the sprinkler system turned on and doused all of the officers and their guns. The men found some heavy buckets from who-knows-where, but I can't believe the city forgot to turn off the sprinklers for the evening.

Fireworks follow the concert, and Ian and I were walking across the Hawthorne bridge (which I think is the best spot to watch) while boats on the river launched their fireflowers into the sky. Ian didn't like the sounds of the explosions and cried out with each one, but eventually they lulled him to sleep.

Goodbye, Jack Jr.

2010-08-30T14:18:00.000-07:00

I'm officially car-free. The towing company hooked up the G20 and hauled him away to greener pastures this afternoon; at least he got to ride with a fellow Infiniti (an i30) that was being taken at the same time. This was of course part of my big bike-for-car trade.

I'm still surprised at how informal the whole process was. I didn't sign a single form (save signing the title of the car over to the charity), never had to show my ID, and there were definitely no lawyers present for any of it. Both parties just did what we agreed to do--how old-fashioned.

I'm writing this a few weeks after the fact, so I can report that I haven't had any problems living without a car--haven't even dreamed about owning another one or worried about having to walk, bike, hitchhike, or ride the bus somewhere.

HTC 2010

2010-08-29T16:03:00.000-07:00

I shot Hood-to-Coast racers again in 2010. Since I've already written about the experience here and here, I won't bore you with the details of the job; instead I'll talk about some of the competitors I met and post the pictures I took of them (when available).

I don't have pictures to accompany these guys, but I saw two one-armed runners, one one-legged runner, and one blind runner. I probably scared the crap out of the blind guy when I hopped out of my chair to photograph him, as I was stationed at a pretty remote spot, on a private logging road, but he seemed to figure out who I was and what I was doing. What I found funny was that about three minutes later his hunchbacked escort ran by. Shouldn't they have been running together, or maybe even the guide out in front to keep the path clear?

This woman cradled her boobs and shouted "Team handful!" for me as I took her picture. My first reaction was that she was boasting of her bounteous endowment, maybe even trying to give me a stamina boost to help me last the day, but I realized she she was just marketing her team, which is an actual company that makes sports bras (for women, of course).

When I ran my last marathon in 2002, Meg (7-months pregnant) patiently waited for me to finish. One of the runners who beat me looked similar to to this guy. If you don't lubricate particular parts of the male body before long runs, they will chaff and chaff until blood dribbles out. Fortunately for this fellow, his shirt was painted (I asked), unlike the guy Meg saw in the marathon.

Even though they weren't dressed up in costume, a few runners bear resemblance to famous people. These two represent what I thought looked like Forrest Gump and Kirby Heybourne. I've never understood why some people wear costumes while they race, since it slows you down so much, and they soon become stinky stained with sweat that you just can't ever eliminate before Halloween. But then I remember all of the people dancing and going crazy at the beach in Seaside after all is said-and-run and recall that not everyone is trying their best to race for a fast time.

One of the most common gripes runners voice to me is, "Why do you have to be taking my picture at the end of the race when I'm all sweaty and gross and feeling so much pain?" Uhh, because that's my job, duh.

This woman offered these words to me but somehow managed to pose and smile big and look like she was on a leisurely stroll through the park. I'd argue that she looks pretty good, especially considering the circumstances. And based on the fact that she and I were able to carry on a relatively lengthy conversation without her slowing down only further demonstrates her mastery of the fine art of sandbagging. Back when I used to race, fellow racers often accused me of such, but I was just really good at pacing myself and being able to dig deep for a final, balls-out sprint to the finish.

With a race of 12,000+ runners, you see a little bit of everything, gays included. When I saw the guy on the left coming I immediately labeled him as such. A few seconds later he asked me how far it was to the finish, which put to rest any doubt I had of my original premonition. I don't know about the guy on the right, but he's probably a good candidate. So for all of you heterosexual male runners out there who fear looking gay, avoid swinging your arms all loose-goosey, tilting your head to one side, and bending your hands at the wrist.

Many of you know that I have become a convert to wearing Vibram FiveFingers exclusively, and I'm so drunk on the kool-aide that I dread putting on my dress shoes for church on Sundays (the lone day time I wear traditional shoes). I haven't built up a tolerance to running more than a few miles in my FiveFingers, so I was quite impressed when I saw about five different men and this lone woman sporting them. I even shot one woman who was completely and utterly barefoot. I'm guessing her excuse was that she was pregnant.

Because Leg 35 was on a private logging road, I guess the local sheriff thought he needed a small army to patrol the six miles of peaceful serenity. All the local law enforcement officials must have left town (like most smart Seasidians do every year during this weekend), because we were left with two mounties (probably had migrated south from Canada for the summer), two teen-age boys wearing their daddys' uniforms, and some dude riding a four-wheeler. They caused more harm then good, kicking up dust storms, getting in the way of the runners, and ruining my pristine photographic backdrop. Although the real sheriff drove by at one point and gave me the third degree. Sure, he just asked if I had enough water or if I needed anything else--to which I tried to think of something clever to retort, but failed--but you could tell he was fishing for some reason to haul my well-shaped a** to county lock-up.

I listened to my Zune the entire first day, but I kept my ears free the second and shouted encouragement to every passerby. Many asked how far it was to the finish, and I offered the information to just about everyone. Upon hearing that only 1.5 miles remained (out of 7.5 miles total for the leg), most thanked me or God or Jesus, some called me their hero and savior, and maybe two or three jerks cursed me out because they thought they were closer to finishing.

Freedom in the High Oregon Desert

2010-08-23T10:09:00.000-07:00

Meg organized a fabulous four-day trip to Bend to celebrate our decade of marriage. She even let me join her in celebrating the festivities. Meg's sister, Nichole, stayed at our place for three of those days taking care of the wild ones, and her Mom and Dad controlled their fury for the final day at their estate.

We had a riverside room at the Shilo Inn, but other than sleeping we didn't spend much time here. We hung out near the inn on Friday, eating dinner at McGrath's and embarking on the annual hunt for a new pair of sunglasses for Meg.

We walked about two miles Saturday morning into downtown Bend, exploring the area and buying homemade soap at the underwhelming Saturday Market. I eventually left Meg, running back to the Inn along the Deschutes (for as long as I could) to bring the car and swimsuits, as we wanted to float down the river in tubes. We failed to find a place just by walking and driving around, so we took in two movies at the Old Mill. Meg wanted to see The Switch, while I wanted to see Scott Pilgrim. We ended up watching the latter. But even though she let me choose, we had to see Eclipse as a make-up for Meg not liking Scott Pilgrim. Most people keep saying the Twilight movies are getting incrementally better with each release, but I fail to see how--I think the first was the best of the bunch, but don't expect me to re-watch them to see if my memory is telling me the truth or not.

On Sunday we drove to Sun River, although there were no signs from the highway or adjacent roads--it's like there's some sort of secret map that only the pretty people are given (Meg is pretty, but she (thankfully) shuns the pretty people click). We eventually found it and walked around a bit before renting a tandem bike for an hour--some of the best $9 ever spent. I'm currently reading a book about a family (husband, wife, and three boys who live in Portland--sound familiar?) who takes a summer to ride across the continent on various bikes, including a tandem. We've talked about doing something similar, but on a much smaller scale (maybe ride from Boise to Portland, or something lasting about a week). But now I know that Meg and I should never attempt to ride a tandem together again. I don't think it's either or our faults, but we experienced terrible chemistry (i.e., she often wanted to coast, which would lock up the pedals and nearly throw me over the handlebars at times) and could not find a good rhythm. I'm not a big fan of Sun River, but Meg thought she could envision us staying there for a few days, once our family ages and matures a few more years.

After fleeing Sun River, we drove to Lava River Tube cave, where we hiked about a mile to the end. Meg made it to the end (at least the part where you can walk). We then drove a litter further to the Lava Lands visitors center, where we hiked a couple of miles on the trails that wind throughout the desolation that not even 6,000 years of recovery could help brighten--it's still very beautiful and awe-inspiring to witness. We finished the evening hiking to the top of Pilot Butte, which sits right in the middle of the city, and which I've always wanted to climb (ever since I first went to Bend in 1990 for high school baseball trips during spring break). The hike was maybe a mile to the top, and we were able to enjoy the setting sun and emerging stars in the sky.

We concluded our trip on Monday with a float down the Deschutes River, from Farewell Bend Park to Drake Park. Little did I know that 90 minutes on the river would transform my pale white belly into something that resembled one of my pink hypercolor t shirts as a teenager. At least I wouldn't feel any pain until the next morning. We tethered our 'tubes together, which also proved dangerous, as Meg is pretty crazy. I don't remember exactly how, but just take my word that she is wild on a 'tube.

When we arrived in Sherwood to pick up the kids, I was surprised at how indifferent they were to see us. I suppose that's good, in that they don't have issues being separated from us for long periods of time.

One Decade of Formal Marriage

2010-08-16T22:07:00.000-07:00

From 10-Year Anniversary Eating and Walking the Neighborhood

Ten years ago Meg and I formalized our relationship before God and Country. To celebrate we went on a walking and eating tour of Sellwood/Westmoreland. Despite the 95 degree heat scorching our necks, we had lots of fun just being together (cheesy but true). We shared every dish because we're socialists.

1. Gyoza at Stickers Asian Cafe ($6)
2. Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich at Philadelphia's ($3.75)
3. Chocolate Truffle Cake at Papa Haydn ($10)
4. Bottle caps and Runts at Plaid Pantry ($3)
5. Red Snapper Nigiri Rolls, Veggie Rolls at Mio Sushi ($6)
6. Chantilly Cupcake at Piece of Cake ($3.50) (best cupcake ever)
7. Chips and salsa and Chicharron Pupusa at El Palenque ($12) (very good--thanks for the idea, Dave Johnson)
8. Gelato at Staccato Gelato ($3.75)

And Meg was worried that we would run out of places to visit.

From 10-Year Anniversary Eating and Walking the Neighborhood

A Wild Black Sheep Chase

2010-08-14T22:06:00.000-07:00

It all started with a tweet. The tweet guided me to a blog. The blog inspired me to craft an e-mail. The e-mail led to a phone call. And the phone call led to my agreeing to trade my 1993.5 Infiniti G20 for a 2010 Black Sheep commuter bike (1 of only 13 in existence). All of this happened within 24 hours.

From New Bike

An informal part of our agreement to move to Portland was for me to get rid of my car, since I had committed to biking or riding the bus to work--and I never did drive the G20 once we moved to Portland, except once every other week or so to keep the fluids moving through the car. I had posted my car for sale at the G20 enthusiasts' site, but I didn't get any substantial bites, nor did I do much to promote its sale (Meg would like me to remind you that I took a year to sell my del Sol after buying the Maxima). So when I saw a blog post about New Belgium's car swap at the Tour de Fat, I called Meg and proposed the idea to her. She thought it sounded good and gave me her blessing to proceed. I took some time to write an e-mail presenting my case and wasn't too surprised to get a phone call less than 24 hours later congratulating me on being the winner.

Friday after work I stopped by Waterfront Park to the New Belgium Brewery team who were setting up the festival. They gave me a private tour, tossed me a t-shirt, tried to get me to take some beer home, and showed me the Black Sheep, which as hidden under the stage after they had built it just for me that morning.

Saturday turned out to be the hottest day of the year, which made for being outside not very pleasant. Eddie and I rode the bus downtown and walked around the festival, while Meg drove Aaron to a friend's birthday party going down in North Portland. It was interesting to look at the strange-looking people (and not all were in costume) and bikes. The time for my ceremony got pushed back an hour or two, so we had to stay longer than expected. But eventually they put me up into the car float (see first video below) and the stage (second video, which Meg did a pretty good job of capturing on my my stormtrooper camera).

Now that it is all over, and I've been commuting with my Black Sheep for two weeks now, I still think I got the better end of the trade. The bike rides smooth, although I haven't figured out how to pedal as fast as I did on my mountain bike. And with the panniers, I no longer have to haul all of my stuff in a backpack. The bike looks very sexy in real life; fortunately there are empty cubes nearby mine at the office where I can store the Black Sheep so I don't end up staring at it all day.

The car swap web site talks about New Belgium documenting my trials and triumphs over the next year, but I highly doubt they will get together with me again. But maybe I'll promote my own videos and stories here about what it is like to commute by bike during Oregon's winter.

Eddie the Salesman

2010-08-01T22:06:00.000-07:00

From Random Summer Weekend in the Neighborhood

While I was stuck at church doing clerk work this afternoon, the following conversation took place when a neighborhood friend knocked on our door (via Meg, who was resting in bed at the time):

Neighborhood Friend: Can you come out and play?
Aaron: No, I can't play on Sunday.
Neighborhood Friend: Why not?
Aaron: Don't you believe in God? It's like one of the commandments.
Eddie: I don't believe in God. I can play!

And this coming from the kid who wants to grow up to be a prophet.

Long Weekend in Waldport

2010-07-25T22:56:00.000-07:00

A week after Meg returned from her long road trip, we took an extended weekend in Waldport, staying at my former (now retired) co-worker's house. This was our third trip to stay with Shirley but the first time we've dragged the kids with us. They behaved okay, I suppose, although they had their moments.

We left Portland mid-morning, just missing the heat wave that took over while we were gone. Ian and Eddie fell asleep shortly after departing, but Ian woke up about an hour later and wasn't thrilled with being in the car for two more hours (and dutifully voiced his opinion, as only he can). After stopping by the house to say hello and dump our luggage, we drove the mile or so to downtown Waldport and played on Alsea Bay. Even though it is no more than a mile from the ocean, it was sunny and only mildy windy; at the actual coastline, it was cloudy/misty and extremely windy--to the point where it was uncomfortable.

On Saturday Meg and Aaron walked back down to Waldport/Alsea Bay to visit the interpretive center, while Eddie and I helped prune Shirley's trees while Ian napped. After Ian came back to life, the three of us ventured to the actual beach, braving the strong winds and cool temperatures. We eventually figured that if we played inbetween the mini-sand dunes, the wind couldn't touch us and we could have fun. We hung our like this for a few hours--long enough to tire Ian out and he took a nap in the protection of the sand dune. Eddie and I went on short adventures thereafter--never our of Ian's sight, of course--until Meg happened upon us. She layed down next to Ian and napped while Eddie and I walked seemingly to California to look for enemies to defeat with our driftwood swords. Ian woke up while were were gone, and Meg took him to retrieve Aaron, who had since grown jealous that his brothers were having fun at the beach while he had chosen to watch TV at Shirley's. We had another hour of fun jumping off the sand dunes and chasing each other before calling it quits and going out to eat. I fell asleep both nights pretty early, cuddling and reading with boys.

Our drive home Sunday morning was calm and uneventful, in part because Ian slept for 95% of the trip.

Partied Like It's 1999

2010-07-18T22:10:00.000-07:00

1999 symbolizes my "freedom" time: I was a college graduate, gainfully-employed, virtually debt-free, and single/childless. I pretty much did what I wanted and didn't have to report to anyone or commit to any thing. This past week felt like I had stepped backwards in time, as Meg decided, on a whim, to drive to Salt Lake City--with kids in tow--and stay with my parents for a week. Since I wasn't part of the road trip, you'll have to encourage her to share any stories, although she has confessed to me that she's done with blogging.

Here are the highlights of the back-in-time party that was this week:

Exercise: Besides my daily 11-mile round trip commute by bike to the office, I went on three other bike rides around Clackanomah County, swam at the pool twice, and ran once.
Cleaning: Organized some of our outdoor living space, cleaned the house from top-to-bottom, washed the G20, cleaned my bike, and manicured the outside landscape.
Sleep: Every night was 7 hours of perfect, continuous sleep.
Computer Work: I installed a new router for our Internet connection and installed a new wireless network card for the boys' computer, I uploaded pictures and edited video, and wrote a few entries for the blog.
Urban Exploring: I visited Crystal Springs Gardens and Elk Rock Island (via bike, of course).
Clerk Work: Spent a few hours at church cleaning up some records and the actual office.
Movies: I watched two movies that the family would have no interest in (The Road, Big Man Japan)

From Crystal Springs Garden

Movie BS with Bayer and Snider

2010-07-16T17:00:00.000-07:00

You might label this entry as extreme navel gazing, but I listen to a local, online radio show that broadcasts every Friday at 11:00 a.m. Pacific: Movie BS with Bayer and Snider. Eric and Jeff's show is centered around movies--what's new, what's coming, and other various happenings. In Episode 10, they called out to their audience to submit answers to their question of the week; I couldn't think of a good answer for their first question, but I've faithfully replied to every question thereafter. You can listen below to the parts of the show where they discuss my submission. I will upload clips from future shows in this post, so if you like examining my navel as much as I do, come back every week to see what color the lints is.

I must credit Meg for introducing me to Eric D. Snider. She remembers reading his newspaper column when they were both students at a certain university, and she suggested that I would like and appreciate his work, since he seems to critique movies in a fashion similar to me. Eric now happens to live right here in Portland, which makes it all the more fun.

By the way, BarefootMike=BizanBandit=me.

Episode 12 (6/18/2010): What's your favorite third movie in a series?

Episode 13 (6/25/2010): What is your favorite immature comedy? Where Eric kicks me off the show.

Episode 14 (7/2/2010): What is your favorite teen romance?

Episode 15 (7/9/2010): What is a movie you like but no one else does?

Episode 16 (7/16/2010): What movie let you down the most? I listened to the entire episode, anxiously waiting for them to talk about my submission, and they didn't bring me up at all--which was a first. I felt so disappointed, until they were getting ready to close the show and brought me up--I knew they couldn't resist.

Episode 17 (7/23/2010): What books did you read as a kid? Meg writes in for the first time and feels the rush of euphoria when Eric and Jeff reference her on the air. Barefoot Mike gets a shout-out as well (as controversial as ever).

Episode 18 (7/30/2010): What movie did you flip flop on? I didn't get a mention. So disappointing, until you realize they devoted half the show to an important guest interview over the phone.

Episode 19 (8/6/2010): What's your favorite cop movie? They also briefly describe our encounter at Ground Kontrol.

Episode 20 (8/13/2010): What is your favorite guy movie? Also, Eric validates me.

Episode 21 (8/20/2010): What film disturbed you the most? I don't care for scary movies anymore, so I took a different angle with my answer. I also included Eric's battle with ants, as we've also experienced this quite a bit this year.

Learning to Swim at the Sellwood Bath House

2010-07-09T23:00:00.000-07:00

While Edward, Aaron, and I were camping east of the mountains, Meg woke up early on a Saturday and stood in line for a few hours to sign up all three boys for free swimming lessons at the historical Sellwood Bath House (I guess the whippersnappers call it Sellwood Pool these days). Ian's lessons were pretty simple: dance and play in the water with mom; Edward's class focused on teaching actual skills, but apparently he wasn't too interested in following along and learning these skills; Aaron enthusiastically embraced the opportunity and passed his week-long class with ease, so Meg signed him up for two more weeks of paid lessons at the next level.

While Aaron kept his enthusiasm alive, it wasn't enough to help him master the skills necessary to graduate to the next class (not that we would have signed him up for more lessons). You would not believe the look of despondency when Aaron tore his participation certificate from his instructor's still wet hands and learned his fate: another round of lessons being an otter. He had made visible progress since his first lesson--and he knew with great conviction that he had improved--so he was dumbfounded as to how he had failed (his perspective, not mine). He's not used to failing like this, so I hope it stirs a little fire inside him that drives him to achieve a little more next time.

Independence Day Weekend 2010

2010-07-05T22:42:00.000-07:00

Continuing a tradition that dates back to 1999, I went on a hike for the 4th of July. See here for a history (1999 is previously unrecorded, but I took someone not named Meg that year to Cape Lookout). Meg invited some friends from church to come with us; they have two boys, one of which is a peer of Aaron (the other is 12). Aaron was pushing to hike Silver Falls again, but I like to explore new places (and frankly, I'm a little sick of Silver Falls). A co-worker had mentioned that Latourell Falls is pretty close to town and a nice, easy hike for kids. Fortunately we arrived early enough to avoid seeing too many people, but the parking lot was full when we returned to the van.

Also, later that night, Aaron, his friend from above, his dad, and myself all went to a Portland Timbers game at PGE Park. The game itself wasn't all that great (are 0-0 ties every much fun?), but it was fun to watch the crazed fans across the stadium singing and chanting and jumping around for the game's duration.

For Sunday the fourth, we experienced fireworks Sellwood style. It felt like the whole neighborhood was out partying and lighting off fireworks--there were literally thousands of people outside, most gathered along Sellwood BLVD, which sits on the edge of a bluff that overlooks the Willamette River, the Portland city skyline, and Oaks Amusement Park, which hosts a pretty large fireworks display every year. Meg had reserved a spot on the bluff, which just happened to be next to some friends from church, so we had a place to take in the action. I think Ian actually fell asleep before the show was over, but Aaron and Eddie seemed to enjoy the show (although while we were walking home, Eddie got scared when some people launched some loud fireworks, and he bolted the opposite direction; fortunately, I was able to track him down amongst the throng).

Monday was my official day-off-from-work, and Aaron and I went on long bike ride (around 10 miles total) into downtown (via the Springwater Trail and the Hawthorne Bridge), stopping at the ADP plaza for a short sunbath, and then continuing towards home on the west side of the river till we walked our bikes across the bike-unfriendly Sellwood Bridge.

Summer Break

2010-07-01T22:28:00.000-07:00

It's the beginning of summer vacation here in Oregon--nearly three months before Aaron starts second grade and Eddie enters kindergarten. We interviewed each other on our goals, plans, and desires and compiled them into the video below.

And now it's nearly a month later. I'd hoped to catch Meg on camera, but things never worked out.

Eddie Lost a Tooth (Again and Again and Again)

2010-06-27T22:35:00.001-07:00

Eddie lost a tooth today. This wasn't his first, but he's literally lost all the other baby teeth before he could put them under his pillow for the tooth fairy. He almost pulled the same trick with this tooth.

A kick to the head (courtesy of Aaron) loosened it up and it came out during dinner. Meg and I encouraged him to put the tooth somewhere safe, but he insisted on holding onto it, which included running around with it outside. We were all outside enjoying the sunny warmth--the older boys talking and tradin' Pokemon cards with some neighborhood friends, while Meg and I watched Ian on the front porch--when Meg called the boys to come in for the evening. I happened to have my camera at the time and, at Meg's suggestion, I recorded the following video of Aaron and Eddie coming home.

Eddie Loses His Tooth from mike asay on Vimeo.

While all of us were searching the grass on hands-and-knees, I remembered that I had captured the scene on video. Shortly after Meg reviewed the crime on camera, we were able to pinpoint which area to look in, and Meg found the tooth shortly thereafter.

Once inside the house, Meg found a small, seal-able plastic bag and gave it to Eddie to safeguard his tooth; however, he continued to hold onto the tooth in his hand. After reading together in the basement, Eddie announced yet again that he had lost his tooth. After scouring the basement where Eddie claimed he last had the tooth, we once again lost hope of ever seeing it again. But Aaron rescued his brother this time, finding it in the bathroom a few minutes later.

We could not for the life of us convince Eddie to put his tooth in safer surroundings, and he of course lost it yet another time while in his bed. Meg found it once again, hidden in a corner of his sheet, and did not allow Eddie to touch it any more.

And the tooth fairy apparently did find it that night, as Eddie found some money under his pillow the next morning.

Camping on the Deschutes

2010-06-20T15:48:00.001-07:00

Our Stake (church) held a father-and-son campout at Trout Creek Campground, which lies on the Deschutes River in Central Oregon. I took a half-day off work so we could beat the weekend rush hour traffic, but it still took us about 2.5 hours (we dropped Meg off at the Kaiser in Clackamas for an appointment--maybe she'll blog about her adventures some day--before leaving her there and heading east over the mountains). The boys whined the usual amount when on a long drive, and weren't impressed at all in the huge change in scenery from western to central Oregon. The last four miles were on a gravel road that gradually descended into the canyon and close to the river. It was pretty steep at some points, and I was mildly worried about the van getting stuck (no incidents to report, thankfully). We arrived about 4:30 p.m. and were fortunately able to set up camp before the rain arrived.

Here are the highlights and other random thoughts:

Upon hearing that we would be camping in the desert, Eddie immediately demanded that we go somewhere else because he didn't want to be around the sand monsters and cacti that infest the desert.
For several hours, we were the only ones from our ward there (three others showed up later that night). I told Aaron that if no one else showed up, he could make up crazy stories to tell his peers, which no one could refute because there would be no one to corroborate with. He didn't seem to think that was very cool, though.
Meg bought a tent for $10 from craigslist. I figured I would need something to protect me, since rain was in the forecast. She said the owner had lots of cats in his house, but for the price I didn't care--besides, after a few minutes, I couldn't smell it any more . . . nevertheless, the tent is now airing out in the backyard at this moment.
The Stake provided both dinner and breakfast (hot dogs and pancakes/eggs/ham/hash browns, respectively), but Aaron and Eddie didn't get their money's worth.
It rained off-and-on for much of Friday evening, but the inside of our tents stayed mostly dry.
Aaron arose about 5:30 Saturday morning, which meant I also had to get up and supervise him.
Aaron helped make breakfast for the masses by cracking open eggs into a giant bowl. But with no running water in the camp, he wasn't able to wash his hands thoroughly when he finished. Aaron is allergic to eggs, and he must have rubbed his eyes with his egg-tainted hands soon thereafter, triggering an allergic reaction--he felt mildly sick, his eyes turned red, and his face puffed up. After going down to the river to wash Aaron's hands and face, I made him rest in the van for about an hour when he felt better. Meg commented that if a woman was there, she would have been very worried (I was too, but I took a wait-and-see approach before doing anything drastic).
While Aaron rested in the van, Eddie went on a short adventure with a peer and his dad. They hopped over a barbed wire fence that surrounded the campsite and began hiking up the mountain. There was no trail, so they had to make their way through the grass, thistles, and heaps of rocks.
After Aaron appeared to be on the mend, he and I joined Eddie and some others in an attempt to reach the top of one of the mountains that surrounded our campsite--again, no trail anywhere. Someone had mentioned that there was a time capsule at the top and that people had been leaving messages in it for years. But no one seemed to know exactly where it was located. So we set off hoping to find it. The going was tough and, frankly, being in my FiveFingers made it more difficult, as I was often being poked by thistles and sharp grass (they proved great otherwise--hiking on normal trails should be fun and easy); Eddie was wearing flipflops, so he had it even worse. While we couldn't reach the top because the way became impassable, we all enjoyed the view from the top.
Near the end of our descent, as I was pulling up the rear with Eddie (Aaron and the others had safely reached the campsite by this time), I saw a snake slither away from us--probably no more than 10 feet away. I remember it being 3-4 feet in length, and its skin color blended in very well with the landscape (it was probably a rattlesnake), but I was eager to get as far away as quickly as possible. Of course when I spotted the snake, I blurted out "Snake!" which filled Eddie with fear, but helped us get back to the campsite quicker.
Eddie became frustrated with all the rocks he had to climb over while ascending/descending the mountain and commented that "When I'm a billion years old, I'm gonna come back here and throw all of these rocks at once into the river." Apparently, Eddie doesn't quite understand what it means to age. He also pondered why Jesus would make so many rocks and put them all on this mountain.

Eddie the Prophet

2010-06-14T21:00:00.000-07:00

Eddie created his own verse to the infamous song, "Follow the Prophet." I found it be very apocalyptic.

Fun at the Fountain

2010-06-12T21:47:00.000-07:00

Meg took the older boys to a friend's birthday party in Salem, so Ian and I enjoyed some 1:1 time for much of Saturday. The sun was shining, so I took him for a ride to the Rose Garden (about 13-14 miles round trip). The fountain there turns on during warm days, and kids seem to enjoy playing in it. Ian fell asleep in the trailer, but after I roused him, and he took a few minutes to acclimate to his surroundings, he eagerly ran into the streams of water that gushed out of the ground and seemed to enjoy getting wet.

The ride itself was the fun part for me. although there were a lot of people riding the trail (weekend, sunny day, Rose Festival), and even though I was pulling the heavy trailer behind me, I still passed a ton of people while cranking in the same gear that I commute to and from work in.

Ian at the Rose Garden Fountain from mike asay on Vimeo.

Urban Journals Part 7: Family Caravan by Bike

2010-06-05T22:40:00.000-07:00

From Kickball and Meat Grillin' in Brooklyn

Some friends from church (I also invited my friend from work, Angie, and she also attended) had planned a kickball game for this evening, and fortunately the only day this week without record rainfall was today, so we had a warm and dry time. I suggested to the family that we all ride our bikes the 2.2 miles to the event (Brooklyn School Park)--I pulled Ian in a bike trailer, but everyone else rode (Eddie is on training wheels, but he rides pretty fast without issue). Within 20-25 minutes we had safely and effectively reached our destination.

From Kickball and Meat Grillin' in Brooklyn

After a quick meal of grilled meat and lots of fresh fruit, we formed teams and reverted back to being kids (at least the adults). Aaron played the whole game, except when he got frustrated and needed a self-imposed timeout; Eddie stayed true to his self by inserting himself into the game at random times; Meg and I played the entire game, while a friend watched Ian explore the park and get dirty. I had cleaned the fivefingers in the morning so decided to give them the day off; I played mostly in bare feet and felt light and free and fast--but at the expense of very dirty feet. I sensed that we all had a great time, including the bike ride to and from the park. I can't believe how much I love living here in the city.

Urban Journals Part 6: Family Night

2010-04-27T22:08:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday nights Mike's Drive In (a local dive, 0.6 miles from our house) has specials on food and treats. We've been there a couple of times already--it's hard to turn down .$0.49 cones and $0.99 sundaes. It had been raining hard all day, but after dinner Meg noticed the sun had broken through, and she suggested we walk over to Mike's for dessert. We all made sure to grab our umbrellas (we each have our own) before we left, which was wise as it began raining hard and hailing as soon as we embarked. I had Ian in the backpack, so I wasn't sure what he though of it--he was quiet and still the whole time. Aaron remarked several times about how we were setting a new record; I'm not sure if he meant the amount of rain that was falling, or that he had to walk through it, or that it would live long in his memory. Eddie didn't finish his cone, so I had to down it for him--that's the real reason I haven't lost any weight since we moved here, despite my more healthy lifestyle (not that I need to, but I haven't lost my usual 10-pound winter coat yet).

On a side note, Ian has begun walking everywhere. When I came in the door after work this evening, Meg set Ian down just outside the kitchen, and he walked all the way to me at the front door--smiling and giggling the whole way--until he crashed into the safety of my arms and gave me as big a hug as he could. I'll see if I can post a video of his new skills shortly . . .

Urban Journals Part 5: Date Night

2010-04-25T21:09:00.000-07:00

My older brother goes to school at nearby OHSU and sometimes camps at our house overnight, since it is like a two hour drive from where he lives.. Friday was such a night, so Meg suggested we go to a movie at the local Moreland Theater while my brother supervised the sleeping kids. The theater is typical older venues: one screen, very large auditorium, creaky old seats, cheaper admission, and independent owners. They. were showing Date Night, which we both found funny and relevant.

Of course we walked the 10 minutes to and from the theater. We both feel safe walking the neighborhood at night, although we encountered an opossum and crossed the street to avoid any conflict.

Urban Journals Part 4: Parks

2010-04-24T14:48:00.000-07:00

The thing I missed most about our house in Beaverton was its proximity to two parks--both just a few minutes walk away. Our place in Salem was about .75 miles from a park, but you had to cross a very busy road to get there. Now we have three neighborhood parks within walking distance: Sellwood, Westmoreland, and Johnson Creek. I've taken the boys to all three now, and it's nice they each have something different to offer. Sellwood Park seems like the best of the bunch, which is nice because it is the closest, just two blocks from our house.

On a side note, Ian likes being outside so much, he will often scream when we bring him inside--no matter if he's been outside for hours or if he sneaks out onto the front porch for just a few seconds when the older boys leave the door ajar.

Urban Journals Part 3: Walks

2010-04-18T19:39:00.000-07:00

Last night I took Ian for a walk in the stroller (while Meg cut the boys hair). We walked down the main strip in Sellwood (13th), which was bustling with people and noise and lights and music--loads of fun and no angry drunks.

Today after church all four of us boys took a walk through the neighborhood. We ended up being gone for about three hours, although much of it was spent exploring virgin territory (another neighborhood park), and it was a beautiful day. At the park the boys discovered a beach within the park (Johnson Creek), so they of course spent most of the time chucking rocks into the creek. Eddie had to do his business, so fortunately there was plenty of plants for privacy coverage.

Update: I should have noted that I did all of this walking in my geta, which a friend presented to me when I left Japan back in 1996. I've never really worn them much until now, but they feel good, add a few inches to my height, and generate lots of comments from my fellow Sellwoodians.

Urban Journals Part 2: Bicycling

2010-04-16T21:38:00.000-07:00

I don't recall ever thinking that the 2.5 miles I biked to the farm I worked on during the summers of my youth was ever much fun; it was simply the way it was. Starting time came early in the morning, and by quitting time in the evening, my physical stamina was drained. Riding my bike home was both a relief--as I didn't have to harvest any more iris--and yet one more physical difficulty to overcome before I could relax for the day. I never felt contempt for my co-workers who had cars to drive, but on the rare occasion my dad permitted my brothers and me to drive his truck to work, it felt like angels gently pulling us along on our own puffy clouds to the gates of heaven.

Today, I couldn't dream of a better way to commute to work than by bicycle. The most physical aspect of my position at work is walking to the restroom, so I welcome any sort of activity that gets me out of my chair. Fortunately my office has a locker room and showers and lets me store my bike inside the building, so it's difficult to find an excuse for leaving my bike at home (except on rainy days when I ride the bus).

Meg rides her bike, too--complete with trailer and two kids. She even recently rode her bike/trailer to QFC to do our weekly food shopping. Ironically, Aaron rides much less in our new neighborhood, although that probably stems from his lack of friends that he has met.

Urban Journals Part 1: Trailblazers

2010-04-12T22:27:00.000-07:00

I took Edward and Aaron to a Blazer's game tonight. Aaron earned a voucher for a free ticket from his school for reading, so I was more than happy to accompany him. We did the same thing last November, but Edward bailed on us at the last minute. Today, though, he was excited to go with us, even though he knew that Brandon Roy, Greg Oden, and the Vanilla Gorilla were injured and would not be playing.

We walked two blocks to the bus stop and got a ride straight to the Rose Garden. Aaron sat next to me, while Eddie changed seats several times--at one point I thought he was gone, but he had just stealthily changed seats again (outside the bus, he made sure to hold my hand and stay close). Even though our seats were the cheapest in the house, I thought we still had a good view of the game. I like sitting in the upper section, though, because that's where the hard-core fans sit; the lower bowl seems like a place to show off your social status and money. But that won't stop me from accepting your gift of lower bowl tickets some day.

Each of us participated differently:

Me: I clapped and cheered and frequently stood and yelled and got kind of rowdy--this might be part of the reason the mistress isn't too eager to go to a game with me (I'm embarrassing to be around).
Aaron: He followed the game closely, clapped and cheered at all the right times, danced during timeouts, and looked like he really enjoyed being there.
Ed: For most of the game, he sat quietly in his seat watching. On occasion he would stand up and dance or cheer, but for the most part he watched the game closely from his seat. He never once complained or asked about when we could go home and didn't pester me about buying him a snowcone (he was perfectly fine with getting a drink from the water fountain). I was very proud of him and glad he came with us.

I've been to games at Autzen Stadium, Mac Court, the Spectrum in Logan, Utah (where the fans were very passionate about hoops), and the Rose Garden on several occasions, but tonight felt like the loudest place on earth--my head literally hurt to the point I was ready to lose my balance. I was touched at how passionate the crowd was--that they realized the importance of the game with the playoff seeding, and that they could influence the game, and that waiting to cheer loudest for chalupa-time so second-class. The sandman eventually got the best of Edward, and he crawled into my lap with a minute or so left on the game clock. Even though the entire arena was standing at this point, I felt lucky to cuddle with my five-year old for a brief moment. Both boys fell asleep on the bus ride home; Aaron woke up and was pleased that it was but a short walk home (as opposed to a very long car ride to Salem), while I happily carried Eddie the two blocks to our house. Even though my head hurt and my vocal chords were thrashed, I felt on cloud nine.

A Fine Day

2010-02-11T22:00:00.001-08:00

Everything seems to be clicking right in place lately.

The Portland Central Library fulfilled my reservation for book 5 in the 39 Clues series (which Aaron and Edward eagerly look forward to reading every night), so I planned my lunch-time walk to go by the library. I also knew that Aaron's first grade class was on a field trip to see a live performance of Giggle Giggle Quack at the Newmark Theatre, so I was hopeful to catch him before the show started. As I neared the theatre, I noticed a few large group of kids walking around, and eventually I found Aaron and his class. I had told him that I would look for him but not to expect that our paths would converge, but he wasn't surprised when I called out his name as I crossed the street to join his class walking around the city. We chatted for about 10 minutes, while I eagerly pointed out some of the more famous buildings that are in a book about Portland that we looked at together a few days ago. Aaron has really struggled with the idea that we are moving to Portland (I don't blame him); but as we were walking Aaron said that one good thing about moving to Portland would be that we could MAX (lightrail) more often. Being there in the city together--while seeing him start to accept this difficult decision--warmed my heart and showed me something I have been missing because I'm so far away at work each day. Aaron later related tonight that he's having second thoughts about moving, that he thinks it will be a good choice and that he is now looking forward to it.

On my way back to the office, I passed the flower shop that I usually buy flowers for Meg on special occasions. I noticed they had lots of flowers outside on display, so I decided to take a look to see if I could find a deal for some early Valentine's day flowers (instead of struggling with the crowds and overpaying). I also noticed a news and cameraman outside the shop speaking with the owner. After finding the prettiest bunch of roses available, I took them inside to pay for them. Just before I exited the building, the newsman stopped me and asked if he could interview me briefly. I eagerly consented, and he began asking me a few questions about why I was there, if the economy had changed my buying habits, etc. They probably took about a minute or two of film altogether, which translated to only a few seconds of actual on-screen time later that night--but it was fun watching the footage together as a family. What a fine day.

More Eddie the Dog

2010-01-31T21:08:00.000-08:00

The weather today was beautiful out so I accompanied the boys on the half-mile walk to church. Edward ran ahead like a scout, Aaron walked with some friends he met en route, and Ian and I took our positions in the rear. I eventually passed Aaron and his posse, and as I turned the last corner before the church, I noticed that Edward had stopped just short of the church. As I neared, I saw that he had dropped his pants and underwear and was peeing on a fire hydrant. I ran as fast as I could while carrying Ian and tried to remedy the situation, while Eddie protested that he had to go and couldn't wait any longer. This isn't the first time he's acted out like a dog, but I really hope this pattern doesn't continue.

Also, a few days ago as Eddie was praying, he said "Please bless the people in Haiti so they won't get beehives in their hair." I really have no inkling where that one came from.

Validation

2010-01-26T20:59:00.000-08:00

Although I take my exercise routine to the streets of Portland every noon-hour, the sunny weather brings out the masses. As such, my walk along the Eastbank Esplanade was more crowded than usual today, plus their were some maintenance trucks blocking the normal flow of bikers and pedestrians. A pair of women joggers were following me for a while but finally got around to passing me. When they did, one of them said, "Damn, you're a fast walker." She nailed that one on the head.

DJ Eddie

2009-12-20T08:14:00.000-08:00

You never know what tricks Eddie has up his sleeve--that is, when he is wearing a shirt.Often he doesn't. And though it feels unusually warm for this time of year (high 50's), it's not that warm. But when you perform like Ed, you've got to dress to keep your body cool. The video should show what I'm talking about.

On a completely unrelated note, Meg asked Edward if he'd been good this year. He replied, "Yeah, when I was asleep."

Oh the Vanity

2009-12-05T16:40:00.000-08:00

You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't you?

Carly Simon

Meg claims she didn't think the poster-sized picture of our family would be that big, so you can imagine her surprise upon opening the package. It's a fun talking piece whenever someone comes to visit. Most people won't say anything about it unless you ask them--then they see it is okay and remark how big it is.

Guest Blogger: Aaron age 7

2009-11-30T21:00:00.000-08:00

Hi i am Aaron. My mom is a asking me questions for my 7 year old life. It is sometimes painful and sometimes it is not.

Click to play

Our World Turns Upside Down Overnight

2009-11-29T21:00:00.000-08:00

At a week shy of turning 8 months, Ian became mobile. He'd been flirting with crawling for a few weeks--he'd get into position on his hands and knees and rock back and forth--but at last he moved forward.

When I asked him what the motivating factor was, he replied that being able to put anything in his mouth--especially cords for electronic devices--got him over the edge.

Aaron Got High

2009-11-27T21:00:00.000-08:00

Aaron and I went to the Blazer's game tonight--a yearly tradition, thanks in part to the Trailblazers donating tickets to kids who complete their library's summer reading program. Edward also earned a ticket to the game, be he decided that he didn't want to go (I sold his ticket to a scalper); Meg reported that he cried about not getting to go, but we try very hard to teach the boys to "take the opportunity when it is there," so I didn't feel bad since we gave him plenty of chances to go.

Aaron paid close attention to the game, recognized his favorite players, and cheered at all the appropriate times. He also enjoyed a bag of cotton candy which, at my encouragement, he slowly ate throughout the game. When the game was winding down, Aaron handed me the nearly-empty bag and said, "Uhh, I think I ate too much cotton candy. I feel sick." Fortunately, his body didn't react violently to his over-indulgence; however, he was overly alert on the ride back to grandma's house in Sherwood and, frankly, a little crazy in the head. After changing into his pajamas, he started running around the house, riding grandma's exercise bike as fast as he could, and talking a million miles an hour about how fast he was going. At least he didn't wake up the next morning with a hangover.

Little Travlers Japan

2009-11-08T21:00:00.000-08:00

I sometimes combine my walking workout with a trip to the Portland Central Library, where I check out books for the boys to read. As I was exiting the children's section I noticed a DVD--The Little Travelers Japan--that I thought the boys would like (and, frankly, me too). We watched the hour-long show that night together for the first time, but since then Eddie has watched it at least 20 more times. He reports that his favorite part is when the pre-school kids take off their pants and take naps in their underwear. The show has clearly influenced him, including the desire to eat sushi, which we recently brought home some sushi to celebrate my 15-year anniversary of landing in Japan for the first time; he took a bite of some with smoked salmon, but unfortunately spit it out. But I admire his bravery for trying some so new and different. Meg also reports that Edward once told her this when he was upset with her: "Mom, I'm mad at you. I'm not going to take you with me to Japan when I go."

The Lone Survivor

2009-10-30T20:32:00.000-07:00

I'm probably jinxing myself for writing this, but here goes. Beginning last Sunday evening, everyone in my family became sick. Aaron volunteered first with coughing and a fever; he recovered quickly and passed the baton to Edward, who then gave it to Ian, and finally Meg succumbed to the inevitable. The boys are feeling good now and appear to have mostly recovered, while Meg's battle continues. I, however, have avoided the family illness. Why have I been so fortunate? Was it . . .

A. My family contracted a version of the flu that my innoculation a few weeks ago is protecting me from getting.
B. I am like that guy Bruce Willis portrays in Unbreakable.
C. I consistently lead such a healthy life that nothing can attack my immune system.
D. Like Mr. Burns, I have "Three Stooges Syndrome"--I have a little bit of everything, which causes everything to cancel one another out, and which provides me with a blissful homeostasis.
E. I just wasn't home enough during the week to catch the bug.

Please comment with your vote and reasoning.

Meet Eddie-the-Dog

2009-10-25T21:42:00.001-07:00

Several people came up to me today and commented on how much they enjoyed Edward in our ward's primary program (where the kids ages 4-11 take over and present for the entire sacrament meeting, which includes each child delivering a small speaking part). Eddie had memorized his short, one-liner, and said he would deliver it by himself--Meg had prepped him well over the last few weeks. But this isn't why people were impressed with Eddie. Let's back up to see how we came to this situation.

Eddie was on the floor at church when Ian puked on him--it wasn't normal spit-up, unfortunately, and probably caused by the grilled salmon sushi from Vista Market that Meg ate with me the night before to celebrate my 15-year anniversary of arriving in Japan for the first time. Eddie was understandably upset at having to wear a nasty shirt, so Meg raced home to bring him a new, clean one. She made it back just as the kids were moving forward to take their seats at the front of the chapel. After dressing him in his new shirt, I tried unsuccessfully to get a whining Edward to go sit with the rest of the kids. I eventually picked him up and carried him to his assigned seat, but he quickly jumped up and ran out of the chapel. I tried to reason with him, but he was beyond upset and wouldn't calm down for several minutes. He eventually went back and sat with class--and just in time for his part. With the microphone in his hand, and all eyes of the congregation focused on him, he began making strange, unintelligible sounds--and maybe even some barking. My head immediately dropped and my hands tried to cover the embarrassment on my face, while some of the congregation chuckled over his antics.

Now, Eddie is not a reliable source of information, and his answers can change depending on the time of day and his mood. But afterward I told him that I was disappointed that he didn't say his one-liner during the presentation. He replied that he had, but just that Eddie-the-Dog did it for him. For those who don't know, Eddie-the-Dog is his alter-ego, which he occasionally blames for his inappropriate behavior. You didn't honestly think we had a real dog, did you?

After stewing about it all day, I've really altered my opinion of his behavior, and I can't help but laugh about how fun and silly the boy can be.

Yurt Camping at Tugman State Park

2009-10-10T20:20:00.000-07:00

We had a whole week of gorgeous weather (for October), so Meg organized a weekend yurt-camping trip with our friends the Watkins. Our destination was Tugman State Park, a few miles south of Reedsport (about two hours north of where I took the boys in August).

I took Friday afternoon off so we left right after eating lunch. The boys behaved quietly in the back seat while I entertained Meg the driver with all of my witty and insightful conversation. We had a few hours to burn before the Watkins arrived, so I took the older boys hiking around Eel Lake, which of course included a compulsory stop along the shore to throw rocks into the water.

After the Watkins arrived, we fixed dinner/dessert, hung out around the campfire, and talked until about midnight (the kids went to bed several hours earlier. Brent W. took the kids fishing late Saturday morning and actually reeled in a 12" trout--a fish he really didn't want to catch, and which he tried to release (but the poor fish had nearly killed itself on the hook), and which he gave to another party fishing, as they were happy to make good use of it.

On our way home, we stopped to play on a section of the Oregon Dunes between Reedsport and Florence. Meg and I had spent a few minutes in a different section of the Dunes back in January, but I was glad to spend a few hours exploring the area this time. Eddie especially loved running down the steep dunes and didn't complain about having to climb up to the top to run down again. Only a handful of people were there (and none for very long), so it felt like we owned the place for the afternoon.

We stopped in Veneta to for dinner. We bought food from Taco Time, Subway, and Dairy Queen to appease everyone's interests, except for Ian, who cried all the way home to Salem, despite the efforts of his brothers and me to distract and entertain him.

Ian's Half Birthday

2009-10-06T14:53:00.000-07:00

Ian has reached six months old. Here are a few observations about the boy:

Weighs 19.2 pounds (with diaper)
Sits on his own for long periods
Prefers to lie on his stomach
Likes to spin around on his belly
Can roll and spin to move to where he wants
Sticks everything nearby into his mouth
Eats baby food twice a day
Has 1.5 teeth and isn't afraid to bite
Doesn't like it when Eddie smothers him (happens multiple times every day)
Doesn't like long rides in the car

Did You Know Runners Can Be Resurrected as Racewalkers?

2009-09-26T21:00:00.000-07:00

Over the last two months since retiring from daily running, I've tried working out on an elliptical, riding a stationary bike, running barefoot, and walking. My office has a small workout room with the former two machines, and while I tolerate (and sweat like a pig) riding the bike, I didn't like "riding" the elliptical at all--it even made my knees hurt. As for running barefoot, maybe I didn't give it enough time, but my feet never got used to the punishment, and I really didn't look forward to those once-a-week workouts. So the experiment is over. I think I'll ride the stationary bike once a week while racewalking the streets of SW/SE/NW Portland the other days (I was able to reach NE when running, but it's just too far for a walk).

What I missed most about running was experiencing the city--the buildings, the cars, the people, the smells. So I'm able to retain the best part while still getting in a brisk workout. I admit that racewalking felt quite uncomfortable at first, because I was worried that I looked goofy (see video below--it's kind of like that). I probably do, but after three or four days I just didn't care anymore.

Hood to Coast 2009

2009-08-29T22:00:00.000-07:00

Instead of writing something that I think appropriate, I'm going to give you what you want for once: I'll ask the questions that you are too scared or embarrassed to ask. Then I'll provide the answers. If I somehow failed to ask/answer YOUR question, please write a comment and I'll provide a prompt answer. Oh, I should say that this is about my experience taking pictures during Hood to Coast 2009 on Legs 5 and 34.

6. How many times were you the butt of a joke from an HTC competitor? Quite a few times, but it was always for the same thing: it STANK at my location on Saturday, because a farmer was spraying liquid cow manure all over his field. Do I need to explain what the joke was?

5. Hood to Coast, from the perspective of a spectator, is pretty dang boring. With runners passing by on average every 45 seconds, how on earth do you pass the time? I have nearly 9,000 songs on my Zune120 and brought the two latest issues of The New Yorker with me. And thanks to Meg's simple yet brilliant suggestion, I brought a lawn chair that I sat on for much of Saturday.

4. Being out in the middle of nowhere, obviously there isn't any place to go to the bathroom. You have to stay hydrated being exposed in the sun all day, so how do you deal with the absence of restrooms--especially when dealing with number 2? I'm a guy, and I was surrounded by shrubberies. Plus, just as any current or former boy scout can tell you, you don't need toilet paper when you're out in the woods; you just hold it in.

3. With an expensive camera draped around your neck, coupled with the history of strangers often thinking you are gay (not that there's anything wrong with that), how many women approached you about which magazine you worked for and inquired if you could help them land modeling contracts? Well, a lot less than you think. In fact, this didn't happen at all. If anything, runners thought I was an unpaid volunteer who was doing it for the sheer pleasure.

2. Which costs more: your car, or the camera equipment you were using? It's probably a tie. Both are amazing pieces of machinery. The G20 got about 38 mpg; I was very pleased.

1. Even though you have retired from competitive running--and now from running every day at lunch--did you long to switch places and compete (or even just run) again? I think running Hood-to-Coast is overrated. Now matter how you do the math, running at strange hours after being cramped in a van for several hours with other people who stink and haven't slept for days in the unpredictable hot or rainy weather while not being able to eat normal food just isn't much fun. But the memories provide for great stories at the office and documentaries for the movie theaters--this is its saving grace. Taking pictures of the race isn't much better, but at least I get paid.

Car-Camping at Humbug Mountain

2009-08-21T21:57:00.000-07:00

I took Aaron and Eddie car-camping to Humbug Mountain State Park for three days and two nights. We came home a day early because the boys both wanted to (and partially because I thought I was going to get the third night free, but I didn't read the fine print: the free day can't be Friday or Saturday). My goal is to ease them into outdoor adventures so when they are older they will want to go on long trips in the middle of nowhere (my preference over car-camping). Meg took Ian up to Seattle to stay with her friend Susan; maybe she'll write about her adventures here sometime.

We left around 12:30 on Wednesday afternoon, a few hours before the 100-degrees settled in. It took about 4.25 hours to drive to the state park on the southern Oregon coast (the farthest south on the coast I've been). The boys behaved for most of the drive down--Aaron read from some books and played his GameBoy, while Eddie slept and was otherwise quiet--even though they had to sit together in the back of the G20.

The campsites at Humbug Mountain are first-come, first-sever; as we approached our destination, other state campgrounds were advertising that they were full--including my back-up site in case Humbug Mountain was full. I became instantly worried (truly a rare occasion). But as we drove into the park, there were plenty of open spots, and we ended up choosing one central to everything.

The boys were very excited (and a little chilled at the thirty degree difference in temperature) and helped me set up their tent and put all their belongings inside it (I choose to sleep under the stars--most refreshing). We then took a five minute walk to the beach, where the boys enjoyed an hour or so of randomness. Afterwords I cooked spaghetti for dinner (using my "new" propane stove I bought last week), and the boys ate every last noodle. We built a fire, roasted marshmallows (I had to eat all the burned ones--and they numbered many), and then went to bed around 9:00 or 9:30. The boys claimed to have slept well, but I was awakened many times by the rumbling 18-wheelers that drove by on 101 all night long (the campsite was right next to the highway).

After sleeping in the next morning, we ate Lucky Charms for breakfast, and then packed some snacks and began our hike to the summit of Humbug Mountain. It took us about 2.5 hours to hike the three miles to the top and about 1.5 hours to make it back to our campsite. Both boys whined during much of the last hour up the mountain, but they seemed genuinely excited and proud when they reached the goal. After 30 minutes of resting and peeing and playing fetch with some other hikers' dogs, we began our descent. Eddie enthusiastically ran down the mountain for about 1.5 miles, but then became very upset and didn't want to go any farther. But after much cajoling and manipulation, we all made it back to camp without loss or injury or extended hatred for dad.

I fixed the boys a big lunch before we headed back to the beach for a very sunny afternoon and evening of non-stop action. I mostly lay on the sand, head resting on a piece of driftwood, watching the boys in action. Aaron quickly made friends with some older boys, while Eddie hung out in the background, content to do his own thing. Because of this, he tends to make "friends" with nearby adults, because they think he's lost. Three different people tried to "help" him find his mom or dad, even though I was watching him the whole time and was close enough to help him if he got into any trouble. One lady who "helped" Eddie even tried to chastise me for not watching him carefully enough:

Lady: Do you know where your son was?
Me: Yes, he was right over by that rock. What was he doing?
Lady: You need to watch your son more carefully?
Me: What was he doing that was so dangerous? I've been watching him this whole time?
Lady: You need to watch your son more carefully.
Me: Thanks for the tip, ma'am [silently to myself].

The boys weren't wearing swimming gear, but that didn't stop them from playing in the river and covering themselves with wet sand from head-to-toe. I made them take a shower back at the campground--Eddie tried to run away several times, but once the warm water hit him, he didn't want to get out. Ed and I cooked beer brats in the fire for dinner (Aaron the granarian declined--suprise!--opting for a tortilla with cream cheese). The boys toasted and ate just a couple of marshmallows before heading to bed. Aaron had trouble breathing during the night, so I had to help him take his medicine. I questioned him about this in the morning, and he swears it never happened. We exchanged at least a couple of sentences between us, so I'm amazed at how he could forget it.

Friday morning we tore down camp after breakfast and took a short little walk around the campground to stretch our legs before the long drive home. We stopped in Coos Bay for gas (the G20 got 36 mpg--it used to get 25 mpg on the highway before I fixed her up) and lunch for the boys. The boys chose Burger King, and I was going to fix myself a sandwich from leftovers in the trunk. So I pulled into the parking lot and asked if either wanted to come inside with me. Both declined. So I went inside, ordered the boys their food, and while waiting I saw a lady "helping" Eddie into the Burger King, pretty much guaranteeing me some sort of bad-dad-of-the-year award. The rest of the drive home was quiet and un-eventful.

How I Spent My Half-Birthday--I Mean Anniversary

2009-08-16T21:19:00.000-07:00

Ian's a mama's boy, so he usually isn't separated from Meg for more than a few hours. As such, he got to accompany Meg and I on our day to commemorate nine years of marriage together. This limited our possibilities, but we had fun at Northern Lights (Star Trek), Olive Garden, the Lancaster Mall Theater (G.I. Joe), and Sonic (frozen treats). Ian fussed only once during the final movie; he is very well-behaved when out-and-about.

I think we all had a great time, but I was surprised at how fast the time flew--we were gone for nearly eight hours, but it seemed like only two or three.

Ian's 1/3

2009-08-08T19:13:00.000-07:00

Ian is four-months old today. It's also Happy Hiroshima day.

Here's what Ian is like these days:

Weighs 17..6 lb.s (with clothes)
Rolled over once back to tummy and once from tummy to back
Was sick for the first time (with Dad) with a fever
Likes to look at himself in the mirror for long intervals
Likes to go on long walks in the stroller
Likes to go swimming in the pool
Likes to sleep in his own bed through the night

Time to Retire? Again?

2009-08-01T20:24:00.000-07:00

I retired from competitive running after acting as a mercenary for an out-of-town team at Hood-to-Coast 2006. I accepted that age was stymieing my physical abilities and thought it best to go out on my own terms. So for the past four years, I have regularly run 40 minutes a day, four or five times a week. I've run in the occasional easy fun-run, but nothing serious. And I did all of this training with a laid-back attitude, never really pushing it for extended period. But it didn't seem to matter.

A few weeks ago, my left knee started hurting for no apparent reason. It hurt all the time, not just during or right after running. Outside of injuring my hip flexor in college (right after I returned from two years of "hard exercise deprivation" in Japan), I've enjoyed an active, injury-free lifestyle, and have been able to do pretty much whatever I wanted. Not any more.

After trying to figure out where the pain resonated, and then researching the Internet, I concluded I have patellofemoral pain syndrome (PFPS), or runner's knee. So I immediately stopped:

running
taking two stairs at a time
full-court, pick-up basketball
and picking up Eddie (he's heavy!)

After a few days of taking it easy, most of the pain has subsided, and I think I will heed my body's message by diversifying my exercise regime. I think I'm going to have to retire again from running, at least from running every day. My office does have a workout room with a stationary bike and elliptical, so maybe I'll run twice a week and use the workout equipment twice a week. And even though I've failed to win a championship in church ball--and I love playing pick-up ball once a week--maybe it's time to retire for good from basketball, which probably kills my knees more than anything.

G1 Goodness

2009-07-28T20:12:00.000-07:00

WARNING: The following language might offend the technically-challenged, fiscally-unconservative, and people who think I am a snob and write entries that are waaay to long; proceed at your own risk.

I sincerely believed I would be the last man on the planet to own a cell phone. There's nothing inherently evil about cell phones; I just could not justify owning one because 95% of my time is spent near a landline or my mistress's cell phone, and there is no way I could find value in paying a monthly fee for something I wouldn't use that much. I follow a pretty routine schedule every day of the week, so the people that need to find me can find me.

But then I thought there are going to be a number of days in August where I will be away from my calling safety net--I truly would be inaccessible. Perhaps it was time to concede. I first thought about getting a simple, cheap phone that I could use on a prepaid basis. But the tipping point in my decision was that at work we have begun developing applications for mobile devices. I tried loading a beta version of one application onto my Dell Axim (it's not a phone, but it runs Windows Mobile, which powers many a smartphone), but the application didn't work. I spoke with the programmer, and he said I was one version behind, so I was out-of-luck. Sure, my Axim was still running strong after three years of daily use (during my morning commute for reading e-books and playing games, and for syncing all of my contact/calendar information at work), but I figured if I could replace it--feature-for-feature--and add the ability to make emergency cell phone calls on a pay-as-you-go basis, I'd do it. I thought T-Mobile would be the best carrier for my situation, and then I remembered something about Google making a phone, which just happened to be available only for T-mobile. Enter the G1.

Over several years I have gradually shifted most of my online tools to Google, so I figured it would be nice to have a phone that could take advantage of all these applications. So I watched listings on craigslist and ended up buying a white one from a lady (who graduated from McNary with me, I found out later) who had used it for two weeks and realized it was too much phone for her. I popped my T-mobile sim card in, set up my Google account on the phone (over Wi-fi), and I had a fully functional smartphone. The phone can access the Internet over 3G, but that costs money every month. I'm often around Wi-fi networks that I can access for free--and data transfer is much faster over Wi-fi than 3G--so I can use basically 100% of the G1's capabilities using existing resources and the $10 that paid to set myself up on the T-Mobile network and get 40 minutes of cellular call time. So don't ask me for my number; I'll give it out on a need-to-know basis--and if I do give it to you, I'll probably just give you my Google Voice number (I've figured out how to make/receive free calls using Google Voice over Wi-fi--yet another way to pinch every penny out of my 40 minutes of call time).

I really do enjoy my technology-based gadgets, and I think I get my money's worth out of them. It's not that I can't live without them, but I feel like they help me do the things I like to do better and easier.

In-Lawin' It with the Booren's

2009-07-20T16:20:00.000-07:00

Every two years, Meg's family--34 people now--meets in Oregon for a reunion. I don't have many pictures or videos yet, so check back later to see what might be new.

July 15, Wednesday

We arrived in Sherwood around noon, just in time to see the bounce house, super slide, and jousting arena being blown up. They also set up a slip-and-slide on the side of the house, which Aaron and Eddie both enjoyed. Near the end of the day, some of the older "boys" (myself included) began doing flips and somersaults down the slide. No one went over the side of the slide, but John and Paul both came pretty close; I just experienced lots of wedgies.

After dinner, many of headed across the street to Sunset Park (best city park ever?) to play kickball and soccer. Aaron tagged along with me and enjoyed both games, and Nichole was kind to bring and watch Eddie, although he spilled his little box of Nerds and wouldn't calm down until he led me to the spill site, where I helped him pick up every single Nerd we could find. I sprained my ankle (what's new) and was dripping sweat by the time we walked home, but this was probably the funnest activity of the reunion for me. Amazing how the things I like doing best are free or of little cost.

July 16, Thursday

After breakfast in Sherwood, we drove to Mt. Hood Ski Bowl to spend the day. I took Eddie and Aaron down the alpine slide about six times (Aaron rode solo, while Eddie and I doubled-up). It was a nice contrast of riding the slow and serene chairlift up the mountain, and then flying down the half-mile ride in two minutes. The Asay's escaped injury, although several others found themselves in the first aid tent being patched up.

The latter half of the day we spent at the other side of the park doing other things, like terrorizing the pitching machine for my complimentary 10 balls in the batting cages. I remember spending much of my time walking Ian around and resting in the shade once he fell asleep. I don't like hot days, but I got used to it after a while.

Once the park closed, we headed just down the road to our cabins in Government Camp. They were pretty swank and a lot bigger than I had expected--we actually had our own, large room for all of our family. Ian and Aaron make lots of noise when they sleep--and Aaron had an asthma attack(one of many during the reunion)--so Meg and I didn't sleep very well.

July 17, Friday

After breakfast and cleaning the cabins, we drove back into Portland and spent the rest of the day at Blue Lake Regional Park. We played soccer, tossed a frisbee around, played in the water feature thing, ate a ton of pork, shot bows and arrows, held a talent show, held an auction to raise money for the next reunion, and went home sweaty and tired.

July 18, Saturday
I woke semi-early in the morning to play golf with Skip, Phillip, Jared, John, and Paul at Sandelie in Wilsonville--the course where I played my first round of golf as an adult with roughly this same group (I first played golf with my friends at Cottonwood Lakes in Salem--which sadly no longer exists--when I was about 18). I expected to decline at running and basketball as I aged, but I thought I would get better with golf. Nope. I played probably the worst game in memory (not that I have played that many rounds to fill my memory--I play once or twice a year), but at least I had fun. But I feel kind of down because I didn't learn anything while looking for my balls.

After lunch we all drove to a nearby barn to take pictures. It was hot, there was little shade, and Edward and Aaron were the least happy of the bunch to be there. But I thought the rustic barn made for an interesting site. I'm not sure how our pictures turned out with the boys misbehaving.

That evening we played at Wilson Pool for two hours. The first hour was very crowded, but the last hour we had the pool reserved to ourselves. I took Ian for a long swim, which I enjoyed, but I wasn't sure what he thought of it. He doesn't show much emotion or personality yet, but at least he didn't cry or look terrified.

We drove home to our house in Salem to sleep in our own beds for the night, which was good for all of us.

July 19, Sunday
It was nice to sleep in our own beds, although Aaron had another asthma attack during the night and needed help. We attended church with the Booren's in Sherwood, had lunch together, and talked about very high-level plans for the reunion in 2011, where our numbers could very well be around 40.

July 20, Monday
I took today off because I knew I would need a day to get our normal lives back in order (unpacking, laundry, grocery shopping, etc.). What I didn't expect was for Meg to have to take Aaron to the doctor's office because he was having continual asthma attacks, despite Aaron taking his medication, and which in the past had always brought his breathing back to normal. Even though Aaron could barely breathe, he feared going to the doctor; maybe he thought he would have to spend a few nights at the hospital like last time. But after spending a few hours on a machine receiving oxygen and receiving a shot of steroids in the butt (courtesy of Jose Canseco), he came home very happy and full of energy.

It's been almost three years since his asthma attacked this hard, but I'm guessing it was just a perfect storm of circumstances--spending several days outside in the heat, being more physically active than usual, not taking his medicine on a regular schedule, his eczema kicking in, not sleeping enough at night, and having a slight cough--that led to his condition.

Working Out with Legendary Ducks

2009-07-09T22:56:00.001-07:00

The summer cross country season is approaching, so I thought that I should start including some speed workouts into my training. I run my speed workouts at Duniway Track, about a minute from my office, but I like to run through the Lair Hill Neighborhood first as a warm-up. Since I haven't run fast in about a year, I took it relatively easy, running 1-mile (6:00), 800 meters (2:57), and 2x400 meters (1:27, 1:26)--walking and slowly running 400 meters between each interval--but still finishing tired.

As I was running, I noticed a guy stretching out on the track in a most unusual manner--he was able to contort his body in ways I didn't think possible. Eventually I caught a glimpse of his face, and I recognized him: Galen Rupp. And it wasn't long before I realized I should be looking for his coach, and sure enough, he was there too: Alberto Salazar. I'm not sure why they left the happy confines of the Nike campus (where I often ran when I lived in Beaverton), but it was fun to share the track with two running legends.

By the way, Galen drives an 09 Infiniti G37, while Alberto sports an early 2000's BMW 325--both sexy black in color. I know that's what you really want to know.

Independence Day Hike 2009

2009-07-03T22:10:00.000-07:00

I had Friday off from work, so I took Aaron and Edward on a hike around Silver Falls State Park (25 miles and 35 minutes away from our house); Meg declined in favor of staying home with Ian and away from the 90-degree heat. Hiking on Independence Day (or any part of the time I have away from my job) is a long-standing tradition--one which I have been doing every year since 1999 (see here for the chronology).

We arrived at the park around 9:30 a.m. before the crowds had arrived--and more importantly, before the shade-covered parking spots were taken. We set out intent on hiking the entire 7-mile loop around the park. Meg had commented before we left that I was setting my expectations too high for the kids, and I probably did, but at the same time I wanted to challenge the boys to do more than they ever had before.

The hike went pretty smoothly, although Edward fell a couple of times, scraping his knee and covering his legs in mud--but we were hiking along Silver Creek, so I dipped him in the creek at one point to clean him off. Perhaps age plays a big role in the hiking styles of the two boys, but they are vastly different: Aaron likes to move ahead and is eager to see what's coming next, while Edward prefers to go at his own pace, taking breaks to pick up rocks and sticks and play out his imaginations.

By the time we reached the Winter Falls junction, I asked the boys if they wanted to stay the course or take the short-cut back to the parking lot (shaving two miles from the hike). They opted for the quick way back, which was for the best: Aaron needed to use the bathroom, and Edward ran out of gas. To Edward's credit, he only once tried to pull off his "carry me, I'm tired" move, which consists of stepping in front of me, stopping, and then raising his arms. This was the first hike I can remember where I didn't have to carry one of the boys.

When we returned to the car, we all enjoyed the cool drinks, cool seats, and being able to take off our dirty shoes. The boys both fell asleep within minutes of leaving the park, so I enjoyed the quiet drive home through the country in the once-again-smooth-running G20.