If Wishes Were Horses, Kid

Willem to me: I wish you were a human robot and you would do what I say.

The Portland Highland Games

I have a serious backlog of summer doings to tell you about. For one, Shaun's Aunt Nancy came to Portland and stayed with us for two nights. Nancy arranged her visit to coincide with the Portland Highland Games, and she treated our family to our first outing there. Hopefully it won't be our last.

We had no idea what to expect. I imagined there'd be a lot of this sort of thing:

I pictured a Scottish-themed Ren Faire, a celebration populated with stout, jolly folks who like to dress up, but for whom cultural/historical accuracy is not a primary concern. (I have never actually been to a Renaissance Fair. That's just the unfair stereotype I carry about in my head.) There was a bit of that, in a happy, democratic, "everyone is welcome here" sort of way, but there was so much more.

In the photo above, did you happen to notice the older gentleman in the knee-socks and beautiful kilt? Every competitor for the day, be he or she competing in pipe and drum, or Highland dance, or pipe band, or heavy athletics, wore exquisite clothing. The tartans were lovely in their variety, the wools were fine, the pleats crisp, the socks surprisingly appealing. And if a man looks good in a uniform (and he does), he looks twice as good if the uniform involves a kilt.

New for this year's games was the regimental drum major competition. Here is one of the five contestants being judged on the authenticity of his dress:

It's hard to tell from the photo, but the judges' outfits were amazing too. I passed by a judge in the exhibition hall and was struck by the exceptional quality of his clothing. It's something I don't see these days apart from vintage. They don't make things that nice for ordinary ("not rich") people anymore.

Here is the Superstar Multiple World Championship Simon Fraser University Pipe Band.

They are a Huge Big Deal if you are into pipe bands. They were great. And don't you love their uniforms?

A Parade of the Clans is part of the festivities. It is a little disconcerting for the uninitiated to hear the word "clan" bandied about so freely, but one quickly gets used to it. Here's Nancy marching with the Clan Ross bunch. She writes their newsletter. Everyone we met was very nice, and I can see why she enjoys being so involved in the community.

One of the day's big crowd-pleasers is The Kilted Mile. Here's a bit of historical background from the program: "According to tradition, young MacGregor was late starting the race, but sped like a deer... As he overtook the leaders, his elder brother tried to hold him back by grabbing his kilt. Knowing his brother's strength, and being himself uninhibited, he slipped off his kilt, and so gained the victory."

As you can see, the outfits in this event are totally DIY.

This guy blew everybody away. It's not every day you see all that swooshing in a footrace.

Alas for this poor little fellow, the rules these days require everyone to keep their kilts on. His kilt started falling down as soon as he took his first step. He managed to finish near the front of the pack despite the fact that he had to hold his kilt up with one hand the entire way. Scrappy.

At some point we fell behind in keeping Willem fed, and it took us most of the day to get him back to happy equilibrium. Once his blood sugar drops he does a really scary Mr. Hyde thing.

Our own little Clan Ross members got to handle weapons at the Clan Ross booth. They loved it. Of course.

You can't go to the Highland Games without seeing any of the games. They are truly impressive. Big men throw big rocks. And logs. Yep, they throw logs. The event is called the caber toss, and it's pretty crazy.

The goal is to flip the caber so it lands in a straight line away from the tosser. It's hard just to pick it up.

Then you run.

Then you toss. Which sounds a lot more casual than it actually is.

It's pretty thrilling to watch. All of the events were fun; people had obviously practiced really hard to get good at these things they were passionate about. Yes, it gave me a little warm spot in my heart.

And any event with a Tea Tent stocked with a vast assortment of unfamiliar (to me) homemade biscuits is all right by me. Even if the tea is just Lipton.

The Dark Lord of the Samba

Willem walked into the kitchen in a Star Wars costume the other day and announced, in as deep a voice as he could muster: "I AM DARTH CARMEN."

And woe betide the parent who dares to laugh.

I love the random fixations of Willem's imagination. For a while, everything was named Carmen. He drew a picture of a boat and named it Carmen. We had a stuffed animal picnic with a tiger named Carmen. Just the way he drops the name Carmen so casually (I have no idea where he heard it) is hilarious.

But we're not hearing the name Carmen so much lately, now that Willem has come up with the perfect moniker for when he and Nels run around the house in bandit mode. They call themselves The Oatmeal Brothers.

Waffle Song

I know, nobody really enjoys a vote-soliciting post. And my apologies to my Facebook friends who've already seen this. But it's not every day that one's internet friends become finalists in a Waffle House theme song contest.

My friends are very funny and they are very talented, and my outsize sense of justice will be outraged if they do not win.

Anyway, listen and vote here. If you want to listen to all of the songs, I don't need to tell you who to vote for, but if you just want to cut to the chase, theirs is the first song on the list, "Appetite for Life" by Geoff Pawlikowski.

You can vote once a day until the winner is announced during National Waffle Week, Sept. 5-11. Yes, it's possible that there are more important things that could be occupying your attention between now and Sept. 5. But it only takes a few seconds of your valuable time. And you will be helping to spare Shaun a week of hearing me mutter things like They got robbed and Stupid America has no taste while banging pots and pans around in the kitchen. Do it for Shaun.

Sometimes We Just Stay Home

Bend Weekend

The last time I was in Bend, the boys looked like this:



It's been almost four years since we moved away, and I hadn't been back since. But some old friends recently got married and threw a party to celebrate, which provided us with a perfect reason to visit Bend over the 4th of July weekend.

I let the boys dress themselves for the journey (I'm not sure what they were preparing for with the vests) and select their own entertainment for the car. I always find it interesting to see what they pick out of the overabundance of books and toys they have. As you can see, Nels chose a Transformer tank and a book of stories by Dr. Seuss, while Willem went with a children's Bible and his stuffed sea turtle.

It's totally ridiculous that we hadn't been back to Bend yet, because my mom lives there! In the cutest little house! With an amazing front yard! We loved staying with her for our visit.

Our newlywed friends rented a house on the river to serve as party central. It was walking distance from my mom's house, so that was perfect. When two employees of Deschutes Brewery get married, nobody goes home thirsty.

We were also just a few blocks from downtown, the site of a favorite Bend tradition, the Pet Parade.

(Bend is a totally dog-crazy town, one of the many reasons I never quite fit in there.)

The Pet Parade is just what it sounds like. People dress up their pets and walk them (or pull them in a wagon or whatever) in the parade. Very homespun. Very charming. Very controversial.

The flying chihuahua is the grand finale of the parade every year. And every year, according to my mom, this prompts a predictable spate of outraged letters to the local newspaper. Granted, the dog looked a bit undignified with his little legs slowly paddling in the air, but come on. Look at his little aviator goggles.

The dangling chihuahua wasn't the only divisive controversy in Bend this summer. Huge piles of goose poop in the grass had rendered most of the parks unusable. People were feeding the birds, many of which stopped migrating because they had it so good. After much heated debate, the non-migrating geese were identified and gassed. And cooked. And served for dinner to the homeless. True story.

I thought it was sweet that this young woman was dressed as Cinderella, posing for pictures with enthralled little girls and waving sweetly to the crowd. Then a pushy lady leaned in to the mother of the little girls and said, "Yea, that's my daughter. I'm her agent." And it just seemed kind of sad and creepy.

We went to the candy store after the parade; of course it was packed. We told the boys they could each pick one thing. They each chose a toy (Nels picked a cap bomb and Willem got a truck with a bit of candy in the back) and didn't ask once to have any additional candy. I was impressed.

Reward: ice cream at Goody's.

Here's Nels with his cap bomb in Mom's back yard.

The weather was gorgeous for the entire weekend, and we got to see several of our friends. At the parade we even ran into the pastor from the church we used to go to. We watched the fireworks on Pilot Butte from a neighborhood in Awbrey Butte and we ate breakfast at our old favorite breakfast haunt. It made me miss Bend. Next time we won't wait so long to go back.

E-mail of the Day

Found this in my in-box today. Titled "for your info."

My new Barber, Dan, got kicked by a horse this weekend and broke his leg, so he will be home healing for as long as it takes. So the shop will be back to the normal hrs. and days. Tuesday through Saturday.

9-5:30 except Sat. which is 9-3.

See you than.

Thank you for your patronage.

Carla Rodgers

Get well soon, Barber Dan.