What can one do on a 10.5 hour plane ride with no kids?  Read an entire book, a magazine, and watch 2.5 movies.  It was the middle  of the day for us, so although the served us dinner and then 8 hours later, breakfast, I never felt a bit tired. 

But now, after a 3 hour lay-over for a flight that was canceled at the last minute, an unexpected 2.5 hour train ride through beautiful Germany, having to make new transfer arrangement, and meeting two new friends who had to do all that with us, we are now aboard our Viking longship, named Hlin, which is a name I am glad to type and not pronounce. 

Our room is bigger than we expected—there’s actually enough room to walk between the foot of the bed and the dresser, and the bathroom shower does not flow directly over the toilet.

And, because Dwayne made the arrangements, we have a perfect balcony to lounge on as we cruise past quaint hamlets and  castle ruins. At least, that’s what the commercials and my imagination have concocted. 

 

Well, I’ve been up for more than 24 hours now and we have a captain’s meeting in a few minutes followed by our first on-board dinner.  Hopefully dessert comes before dreams do tonight!

(From our balcony after dinner.

I’m going to beat the sun to sleep tonight!)

Smokey died peacefully(-ish) yesterday at home, and was buried lovingly by neighbors.  We got the news after we landed in Germany, and I was unexpectedly choked up.  She had been with us longer than any of our other pets, or kids, for that matter.  I’m sorry she’s gone.  We feel good that we gave her a fighting chance, but are getting a little tired of $1000 dead cats (remember Seven, who cost us more than that and we didn’t even get to bury him)?

R.I.P., Smokes.

The two cats not  on the endangered list. 

Sorry Smokes.

Yesterday, halfway through our 48 hour layover at home, Dwayne went outside to the usual barking applause from the neighbor dog, something he would have tuned out if it wasn’t followed by a horribly feeble non-dog sound.  When he saw Smokey being dragged off by said dog, he leapt over the fence and rescued our gray fur ball—from what, we’re still not sure.  It’s seems pretty unlikely that Smokey took a nap in Louie’s backyard, and didn’t wake up until she was being gnawed upon.  There had been a cat fight (or raccoon-cat fight) in Louie’s yard the night before, but if it had been a raccoon, Smokey wouldn’t be alive at all.  It if had been another cat, well, Smokey doesn’t deliberately put her life in danger, which is why she is 9 or 10 years old now.  The vet said her wounds were pretty superficial, which doesn’t explain her current almost-comatose state.  There is probably more damage than the vet was able to diagnose with the mere $1000 she billed us (“But wait!  There’s more tests we should run!”—and was I just whining about the $50 of cleaner I had to buy to clean up after the kittens?).  We could have a brain-damaged cat (yeah, redundant, I know) who will have to be given The Shot in a few days, or perhaps she will just lick her sutured wounds in her sick bed and perk up by the end of the week.  The vet seemed very disappointed that we weren’t postponing our much-anticipated Viking European River Cruise to do all life-saving measures for, admittedly, my favorite cat.  But our beloved and generous neighbor is going to be looking in on Smokes and has the undeserved responsibility of making life decisions for us.  However, no cat could be in better hands, and she has all sorts of animal care contacts, so we are very grateful to be sitting at the airport knowing she’ll be be there.  And we are further grateful that it happened yesterday, not 24 hours later as the shuttle drove up to our house.

Either way, when we get back, it will be definitive whether we have three cats or just two.  But as long as we still have three kids, my arms and heart will be full.

Our lodge had a loft-like area with a large bunk bed where the five of us slept.  Dwayne and I were supposed to have the bottom bunk to ourselves (give or take a child wanting a  snuggle), but on the last night, we went to bed to find all three children already sound asleep on our pillows.

 

Notice Wesley’s cherubic pose, excepting his arm that fully covers Kyla’s mouth.  How could we displace that?  Dwayne and I slept on top, and Kyla eventually moved two inches to safety.

Phew!  Last summer’s trip to Sunriver, renting a house with family for a week, went so well, we did it again.  There were 15 of us this year, but I think we really did it so Parker and Wesley could have an excuse to play uninterrupted for a week.

I forgot to bring my camera almost everywhere we went (and this time, we did the Lava Tube Tunnel, all three of mine walking the 2.5 miles round trip to the end of the 42 degree tunnel—it was awesome!)  I snapped the kids playing in the hot tub, which Keith adjusted as low as he could, to make an impromptu and convenient swimming pool for the kids.  Even (especially?) Cecily enjoyed it!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We made it to the High Desert Museum, which my kids love.  There is a “Living Museum” of a 1904 settlement which is a lot of fun.  The first day we were there, the traveling doctor and school teacher were visiting.  The doctor had a cocaine tonic for us women who need a little more pick-me-up, not having the energetic constitution of a man.  Kyla and the teacher were delighted with each other, and Kyla eventually walked away with a lesson in old-fashioned cursive and ink pens.  Of course, there were still chores to do.

 

I helped the hired man myself.

 

 

 

We rode bikes…and occasionally fell asleep in them.

 

That’s Wes curled up in that ball there, sound asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And Piper has the annoying knack of taking my clothes and looking way too adorable in them.  That’s my T-shirt and hat!

 

 

Another family vacation where we’re still all speaking at the end of it—Success!!

Wesley had his half-birthday on our last full day at Sun River.  This is significant for three reasons:

1. He can honestly say he is 4 1/2 instead of just 4, a very important difference when one can still count their full age on one hand.

2. He gets to have a special breakfast out with Daddy.

3. Four-and-a-half-year olds don’t suck fingers. 

Well, two out of three ain’t bad.

We kicked off our summer vacation with a family wedding in Portland this year.  My cousin, younger by (gulp) almost 15 years, married his long time girl friend in a ceremony in his parents’ backyard.  Fun and funky, it was small and delightful.

Brent had his sister stand up as his best man, which I thought was wonderful.  Hard to beat a sibling as a best friend. 

The bride and her sister wore complementary purple Converse.

 

I insisted that the girls have their hair braided, partly for looks and partly to keep their hair out of the spaghetti.  Kyla has yet to forgive me.

 

 

Excepting the bride, the star of the evening was the swinging bench.  And Wesley and cousin Parker got to kick-start their week together.  In retrospect, I feel I should have warned my aunt about these two together.  But, to our credit (or, more accurately, lack of full blame) the bench was broken before we got there!

  

 

There were two older boys there, and if you ever want to lower the general IQ in an area, put four boys together with candy, music, and a party.  It was awesome.

They slowed down for cupcakes before starting up again.  (Uncle Dean, did most of your plants recover?)

 

The bench swing was so magical that I even got a picture of Grandma Extraordinaire!

 

I like the fantasy of this picture—that the kids are actually sleepy.  My kids didn’t wind down until well after 10pm—after a dip in the pool at the hotel.

 

Congratulations,

Brent and Juli!

I don’t know where they get their ideas, but Piper and Wes donned their capes (years of entertainment, Aunt Julie!), got out the markers, and transformed themselves into SuperCats, which are caped cat with tattoos. 

 

Piper shows off her gun tattoo.  Yep, she’s crayola-tough, folks.

 

 

But not so tough to not beg for snacks…

Actually, I wouldn’t have needed ingenuity if I had a little more common sense and organization, but when I emptied our  shop-vac, the filter cover went the way of  the debris.  I didn’t discover this until after collection day, so there was no use looking too hard for it.  I mentally rejected a wooden cover, a cardboard one, and a few other worse ideas before I found an old plastic planter dish that fit well enough with a hole drilled in the middle.  Shop vac back in action!

After our fabulous 4th at the cabin, we managed to leave a few important items at the cabin.  Dwayne left his coat and keys there, and I made a big deal about me having to go back to get them, but full disclosure makes me admit that I left my credit card at the thrift store.  They put it in a safe for me, and I picked it up first thing when we got to the island (and then used it to buy lunch for me and the kids at the Braeburn—yum!).  But since we were there, we decided to hang out at the beach. 

Piper  declared that she wasn’t going to touch the sand at all and vowed to not have any fun (she didn’t get to go to the beach she wanted—these deprived children have at least 4 good beaches to chose from close to the cabin).  That lasted until she was ignored long enough and then she and Kyla built their own beach house out of drift wood, seaweed, and shells. 

 

They even made a hidden shelf for all their shell dishes!

 

Building codes forced them to build an outdoor kitchen and fire pit.  Don’t mess with Island County regs!

 

I’m not sure what Wesley is doing (though I am just as shocked at you that he’s wearing clothes), but one can appreciate the beauty of our Northwest summers in this shot.