Family Milestone: First Camping Trip

Last month we finally got around to taking the boys camping. It would have happened a lot sooner, but I had been resistant (OK, stubbornly refused) to go until both boys were stable on their feet and sleeping through the night. We would have gone last summer, but we were too busy getting settled in after our move to Washington from Idaho.

We probably STILL wouldn't have gone camping yet, were it not for the genius of our friend Lisa Marie, who organized a 30th birthday party for herself at Beacon Rock State Park. There was a Friday night chili cookout, and whoever wanted to stay and camp, did.

It turned out to be a perfect entry-level camping experience for the boys. There were lots of friends to play with, there was a giant rock to hike up, and we were only 15 miles from home! No long car ride to fuss about.

Little minivan in the woods.

The boys spent HOURS hanging out on this rock. I wish we had one just like it at home.

Mila easily wins the "cutest camper" award.

Here's the Morgan family at the start of the hike up Beacon Rock (disputably the second-largest rock monolith in the world, second only to the Rock of Gibraltar.)

Turns out Willem is as nervous about heights as I am, but Nels isn't bothered at all. He sped on ahead...

but that didn't stop me from holding his hand in a death grip as we crossed some of these open walkways. I would never, ever, ever take a badly-behaved kid up there. Holy smokes.

Willem settled in for a nap when we got to the top. Poor kid was tired and hungry. This winning combination results in...

this.

Ugh, this photo gives me vertigo every time I see it. I was way out of my comfort zone on this hike.

Beacon Rock! We climbed it!

Camping dirt-face.

Yes, ma, we love camping.

The Kind Of Nerd I Am

I am embarrassed to admit how much fun I had doing an exercise from my writing class last week. The gist of it is that you take a poem in a foreign language and write what you think it says.

When I first tried this, the linguist in me kept wanting to actually attempt a translation, which was definitely not the point. Write a poem based on your impressions of the words that make up the original, not what you actually think it says. It helps to find a language totally unrelated to one you've ever studied. That way you can't cheat.

Yes, it sounds cheesy. That's why I'm abashed that I enjoyed it so much.

The original Hungarian poem I used is here. And following is my "translation":

It's curt and lazy, a fat little novel.

Hello? This call I'm making is collect.

Just the same, the bulls at the dock are half curry;

Casks of Beaujolais wriggle vigorously.

Mind the Beaujolais' vigorousness;

We have less vigor.

We have sung less, in front of their banners,

And gaze less madly at vigorousness.

The jet, its sock is a pip of a sock.

Do you hear me, jolly, wiggling sock?

Just as their games see and find them,

Magnanimity eludes them.

Death is not gone; I am not gone;

Little napkins, big napkins have eclipsed my village,

Leaving it a sterling mirage.

I know you're all way cooler than I am, so I'm not expecting anyone else to want to do this. But if you DID, and then put your goofy poem in the comments, it would totally make my day.

Heart Update

Today we took a family excursion to Doernbecher's to find out how Willem's heart is doing these days since his surgery.

Here's what we learned:

1. The small opening that remained after the hole was patched has closed up on its own. Good!

2. The fibrous bundles of muscle tissue partially obstructing his valves have not grown back at ALL since they were removed in the surgery, which they sometimes inexplicably do. VERY good!

3. His aortic valve still has a "mild to moderate" leak. Could be better, could be worse.

Right now, Willem's heart is doing a great job. If it stayed like it is, he would be just fine. The valve function could even improve over time. It hasn't gotten any worse in the eight months since his surgery.

It COULD get worse, which is something that happens slowly, and is easily monitored. The next step would be treatment with blood pressure medication. And if it got still worse, he'd need a new valve. This could happen over a period of years or never happen at all. He'll have an echocardiogram every year for the rest of his life, which would have been the case anyway.

Overall, good news, and I'm thankful. I would have liked to hear that the leak had improved, but I have to say that I don't mind that Willem's heart will be so closely watched. Hearts are tricky, and I hate to hear the stories of people who just keel over with no prior history of problems. At least we'll always know exactly how his heart's doing. If only I could monitor the rest of my kids' parts so well.

School's Out For Summer

I'm one of those grumpy people who thinks no one should "graduate" until he or she is finished with high school. So I wasn't thrilled about forking over $18 for a cap and gown for Nels's pre-school graduation, an event which I find gratuitous and a little silly. Fortunately, Willem spent the next week wearing "the hat with the fossil" and "the red dress," so the purchase wasn't a total loss. And Nels's school combined its graduation ceremony with a spring program, which helped to redeem the occasion.

The Pre-K kids made surf boards and did a very elaborate routine to "Surfin' USA." Nels was really into it. Willem learned some of the song too, but he prefers his own rendition: "Burpin' USA."

Nels and his fellow Sensible Seahorses are about to sing their class song.

He's so serious. Like he knows the fun's over.

Hang in there, little buddy. Only thirteen years to go.

Happy Father's Day

My New Favorite Thing to Do on a Saturday

I have been a thrift store/"antique" shop/yard sale junkie for as long as I can remember. Partly because I love a good bargain, but mostly because I love old stuff.

I've had incredible luck with the thrift stores here in the Vancouver area. They haven't been picked over by hipsters the way they have everywhere else I've lived, so there are a lot of treasures to be found.

Garage sales, on the other hand, have been disappointing for the past several years. There are no old things for sale (and I'm not talking stuff from the 80's, Kylee and any other young whippersnappers who happen to be reading.) Every time I stop at a garage sale, here's what they've got: a rack of clothes from the early 90's, a box of worn-out toys, some books that aren't worth reading, a few ugly dishes, and a bunch of other stuff that was crap fifteen years ago when they bought it new and is even crappier now.

But I am over my garage sale sour grapes, now that I have hit the mother lode of all vintage treasure hunting activities. It's an event which combines the thrill of the hunt with the thrill of seeing how complete strangers live(d) in their homes; it's the Camas-Washougal Soroptimist Estate Sale.

I'd been to estate sales in Southern California before, and I'd written them off. I liked going into people's houses, but the sales were always put on by professional outfits who charged at least as much for everything as you'd pay in a retail shop. Plus, these days I find a lot of people try to entice suckers to their miserable little yard sales by calling them "estate sales." I fell for that two weeks ago.

The CW Soroptimists are another matter. Because it's a charity, and the heirs have already taken all the really valuable stuff, everything is reasonably priced. There's the added bonus of getting to see inside the older houses (usually mid-century) and the original details that some of them still have: open beams, stone fireplaces, brick walls. It might be ghoulish to enjoy combing through the household effects of the recently deceased, but I find it fascinating. Plus it makes me happy to give a home to something that was obviously loved by someone, inexplicable as that love may be.

You'd think it couldn't possibly get any better, but it does; they have an E-MAIL LIST. I signed up at the first sale I stumbled across and now I get advance notice when a sale is coming up, with details of much of what will be sold. It's heaven, I tell you. Last weekend I went to the first one that I'd gotten notice for. I was sorely tempted to stop at the five yard sales I passed along the way, but I knew they would pale in comparison. I was right. (I stopped afterwards.)

After two very thorough laps through the house, yard, and garage, I left with my finds: a brown pottery owl about the size of a cherry tomato for 20 cents, a duck made of some indeterminate plastic with light blue rhinestone eyes for 60 cents, a wood souvenir plaque from Long Beach, WA painted with the words "YOU'RE WELCOME GUEST/BE AT YOUR EASE/GO TO BED WHEN YOU'RE READY/GET UP WHEN YOU PLEASE" for $1, a purse with a garden scene in rhinestones, embroidery, and sequins for $2, and a white Red Wing vase with a chip on the lip for $1.

I love you, CW Soroptimists. And, when it's my time to go, I hope someone just like me will find a little something to suit their fancy in all the goofy stuff I leave behind.

Heaven Help Me

Willem celebrated Nels's first day off from school today by sticking a Lego antenna up his nose.

It's going to be a long summer.