School’s out. Summer vacation has started, even if the ongoing rainy weather makes it seem like Summer will never get fully underway. But never fear; this will not be a weather rant. I’m only going to talk about good stuff.
Troop 22 Family Campout: The annual family campout at Newport’s South Beach State Park was fun, though more of a long, drawn-out event than last year’s Paulina Lake trip. Early campers showed up Thursday night, and campers cycled in and out until Sunday morning. There was rain, but there was also some very nice sunshine. And, the cathedral tent finally showed its full potential.
See, last year’s family campout was a non-stop rain-fest. We had just upgraded our tent to the big barrel-vaulted unit, thanks to Next Adventure, and this trip was its christening voyage. It’s a nice unit, which I’ve blogged about before – two big rooms: one a built-in screened porch setup, with a solid partition separating the porch from the very large main room. Sometimes we use this as a two-room tent, with the kids sleeping in one room while the parents sleep in another. Other times, we use the porch for its intended purpose. On th first trip, we used it in two-room configuration, with two kids, two adults and the dog. Except that, like I said, it was a nonstop rainstorm.
And I hadn’t sealed the seams on the new tent.
So the tent leaked.
Back at home, and Seven bottles of seam sealer (“one bottle coats one entire backpacker sized tent!”) later, the tent was ready to go for its next scheduled trip: a week of camping in the mountains of southern Oregon in August. Should be dry. No worries.
Except, somehow, the rain fly didn’t get returned to the tent bag after sealing.
Oh yes we did, we arrived at camp, four hours from home, with no rain fly. Oops. We used a hodgepodge of blue tarps to cover the tent. C was somewhat embarrassed (and I don’t fault her) for the hillbilly-Bedouin look of our tent all week. I tried to tell her that we were paying homage to the look of SkyLab, but while she appreciated the reference, she didn’t appreciate the aesthetics of our campsite.
So, by now, we’ve used the tent twice and not had a fully operational tent at either time. This trip to South Beach with Troop 22 was my final chance at redemption.
I’ll save you the suspense: it worked fine.
We had rain overnight both nights. The seams didn’t leak. The zippers didn’t leak either. The rain fly over the porch area is rather minimal, while the bug netting area is maximized (for the view potential) which allows water to find its way in somewhat more easily in this section than in the main room. Nevertheless, we stayed dry, and relatively clean. Even with all the sand.
I had packed a radiant space heater and an extension cord, just in case we had electrical at the camp site. No such luck. Otherwise, we’d have been nice and toasty. We really weren’t cold anyway.
R was able to demonstrate some of his new skills as a First Class scout. He slept in another tent with fellow scout, and showed a noticeable improvement in his self-reliance skills. M reacquainted herself with a couple sisters in the troop, and started acting as girl group hostess, using our porch as their clubhouse. Imagine that…. <GRIN!>
Benson High School: The campout afforded a lot of good community discussion. For C, she got a chance to talk in-depth with four alumni from Benson High School about the appropriateness of Benson’s program for R. The short summary is that all the alumni were unanimous that R was the kind of kid that 1) tends to thrive at Benson, 2) will benefit from the AP-level course material at Benson, 3) needs the practical and practical-minded style of education at Benson, and 4) will continue to be challenged throughout the entire four-year program.
One of the alumni is a young man who just graduated two weeks ago. C had made the connection that this young man had been where R is at the same age. Now he’s articulate, educated, a leader, and on his way to college with an athletic scholarship and an agenda focused on education. She didn’t speak about it out loud, but I sensed that this talk gave C a sense of peace that there is indeed a High School that will suit him. I think she’s starting to really understand what Benson is. The older alumni shared just how well known the Benson program is for technical universities (and R’s preferred choices, by the way), and that many students going on to college after Benson often earn as much as a year’s worth of technical equivalence credit just because of what they learned at Benson. This fact was not lost upon her.
Undersea Gardens: More back story is required here. Oregon Coast Today ran this article a while back:
“Built in Seattle in 1966, the Undersea Garden was towed to Newport and anchored on 10-foot I-beam pilings. Back then, the cashiers (called “Aquamaids”) had to wear skin-tight neon uniforms that looked like wetsuits, complete with “weight belts” and headgear, and a diver provided an underwater performance.
“Today, the Aquamaids’ outfits are polo shirts and khakis. But the diving show continues, offered at regular intervals throughout the day (if you’re doing all three attractions, it pays to check in at the Undersea Gardens first, so that you know when the shows are scheduled).
“Divers like Mike Stonum wear a wetsuit, scuba gear and mask, and swim through the water surrounding the viewing windows. In coordination with a narrator that talks inside the vessel’s theatre, he picks up Dungeness crab and sea stars, cuddles wolf eels, and feeds the rockfish and shark. He’s slowly coaxing a new octopus into the open, Stonum said, but for now she’s a no-show at showtime. The Undersea Gardens also has a tidal touchpool and, of course, a gift shop.
After the show, Stonum walks up to the rampart for photos and questions. He’ll tell you about the water, the job and how the octopus seems to know him from the other divers. A one-time longhaul truck driver who thought life should hold more, Stonum can now call wolf eels with a dinner bell. “
We didn’t meet Mike, but we did meet Jim. Jim was the diver on duty that day and he’s (in)famous for jumping off all sorts of high places around the Gardens, and splashing into the bay. He’s quite a character, and his antics certainly draw attention to the Undersea Gardens for their show.
Now, see, in the late 60’s when the Undersea Gardens moved to Newport, I was a little guy – 4 or 5 years old. At that time, there was no other aquarium on the Coast to speak of. No Hatfield Marine Science Center; no Oregon Aquarium. Just the Undersea Gardens. And this four year old boy LOVED it. I remember being THRILLED to go there. The Undersea Gardens WAS my destination. Once we were there, we weren’t going anywhere else that I cared about. I was fascinated by the diver show. I never got tired of the fish and the crab, the eels and the octopus. I’m told that we’d have to stay through multiple diver shows before I could be convinced to leave.
Though I couldn’t dredge up an exact memory of the inside of the place, once we descended the stairs to the viewing gallery, I knew exactly where I was… even after (ahem) 40 or so years intervening. No really. Sorry I didn’t share that before, did I? I haven’t been back inside since I was, seven or eight. The program had changed a little – updated information – but not very much. Same basic idea. You watch from the gallery and the diver serves up specimens straight to the window along with a scripted piece on each one. A quick, 20-minute educational piece in which the children can interact with the diver.
Oh, and meet the diver to ask questions after. Which my kids did. R’s question? “What are the qualifications for your job? What do I need to do to get this job when I grow up?”
On Saturday, We Were Balloon Chasers and Home Improvers.
We got the opportunity to crew for PacHigh Balloons again. Same drill: meet Bauman Farms at 5am. Set up and launch, chase, assist in landing and packing the balloon. Except this time, we were a known quantity.
The ground crew chief greeted R that morning thusly:
"Hi, R. So. When are you going to become a balloon pilot?"
R stood up straight, looked him dead in the eye, held his index finger straight up in the air like an exclamation point and said, "TO-MORROW!"
That, actually, was a magic moment. The paying customers happened to have a six year old grandson hanging around. With that interchange, R was suddenly that little boys hero. R helped with the balloon, listened, followed directions, and took that little boy under his wing.
For us grownups, having us there a second time was great. The first time, we got told "do this..." very little explanation. But given that we came back for more, this time, the senior guys explained exactly how the pieces go together, started teaching us the names of things, and started teaching the whys and hows of the balloon components. At one point, the ground crew chief started one of these little tutorials with "when you have your own balloon, you'll want to remember...." His little bit of subliminal programming was not overlooked <grin!>
The balloon setup and launch was smooth enough. The paying customers were a married couple in their mid 80's. Turns out he had been in the Navy Air Corps in World War II. They had a great time. Our son's ethusiasm and positive energy buoyed them as well.
In the chase vehicle, the Ground Crew captain drove. I rode front seat. Everyone was balloon spotting. We taught the kids not to just say 'on the right' but to use a clock position, like: "on the right at 2 o'clock." R was spotting other balloons in the air as well. Finding a landing spot was not quite as straightforward as the first time. There was a lot more consulting of GPS maps than we needed the first time. The chief and I were pretty busy hunting landing spots; it seemed that this flight needed to land in an area where they hadn't had much call to land before; there weren't too many pre-loaded landing choices, So, the chief had some extra scouting to do.
o, there was a moment where we pulled the chase vehicle up to a four way stop, and the Chief bailed out to scout on foot. He was looking behind all the farmhouses to see if one of them had a suitable yard they could use for landing. In the middle of this scouting trip, he told me to move over to the driver's seat. I did so, and things were expectantly quiet all of a sudden in the back seat.
So, I stage-muttered "Well, it looks like I just got promoted."
"Field promotions happen quickly." C offered, supportively.
"I guess we're doing okay, then." I replied. And I could feel the kids get easy with it all. About that time, the Chief hopped into the shotgun seat, pulled his GPS off the windshield mount and started navigating. Me? I just started driving. From that point on, until we found the landing spot, I was the driver and he was the navigator. Chief seemed to be happy with how it worked out.
The ultimate landing site was - get this - a dirt road that a farmer used for tractor access to his onion fields out back. The pilot put the balloon basket onto the road, then we walked the balloon up the road, around a 90 degree bend, across a plank bridge, and onto a grass yard, where ultimately we brought the thing down. Again, the kids did great. R was called upon to hop inside the basket as we walked the balloon to the grass. He was thrilled. Once we got to the grassy spot, the Chief sent R up to the trailer to bring back the big bag for the balloon. Not only did R do so with perfection and speed, but he ALSO brought a special tool, called the paperclip, along with him. When the Chief saw that R had the paperclip, he said, "oh look at that. He thought to bring the paperclip too. That kid just went up a couple EXTRA notches." See, R had thought ahead and done EXACTLY the right thing. Very heartwarming for this Dad.
Back home, we did some more yard work. I got the treehouse roof cleaned off, and we did some much-needed tree pruning around the back yard, First time since we've had the house, so if tree limbing is always a once-in-eight-years event, I'm pleased as can be with that.
We did a bunch of other house maintenance items. All the rhodedendrons have been put in the ground. We've cleaned the windows and sprayed the dust/dirt off the shutters, wood trim and siding. With the rain finally letting up, we're making up for lost time.
C has started re-arranging the draperies on the main floor. Now that she's got a very formal set in the dining room, she's turned the living room and kitchen nook into much more casual spaces. I tease her that it's starting to look like a house from Whoville in Dr Seuss. Really, though, it's quite fun and lovely. I like the space.
We got the barbecue grill up and running as well. In fact, we had a small dinner party with Jin (our exchange student) and a new friend, T, who's in her early twenties and an art student. She came over to have dinner with us, and we all had a great time.
And so ended a very gratifying Saturday.
Then, On Sunday, We Were Farmers.
We got the garden in, up at my sister's place outside Banks. Corn, carrots, onions, pole beans. Cucumbers, squash, peppers, zucchini, 45 tomato plants, melons and --- loufa. No, really. We'll see how it goes. Oh, artichokes too. C is particularly coveting the artichokes.
All in all, I think we planted about an acre. Three-quarters over on the original site, bordered by trees. The new plot is right along the side of P's house. She's calling it the Salsa garden. That's where we put the plants that like full sun all day. They're going to get it, in this new spot....
We got a late start thanks to all the endless torrential rain this spring. Really, the garden should have gone in almost a month ago. Even still, we rushed it a bit. The ground is still almost too wet to plant. P has been tilling the garden area every other day, trying to bring the moisture to the top and dry the ground. We tilled it all one last time again before planting. That gave me a chance to learn how to use the tractor, and to start teaching my kids how to run the tractor too.
I had P give me the tractor tour. It took about five minutes. Then I tilled a couple passes to get the basic hang of it. At that point, I got R up on the tractor with me, and we worked together. I had him steer the furrows while I gave my full attention to the rototiller on the back. This worked well because the ground was still so wet that it could easily gum up the tines. We had a team going, and R seemed to stand just a little taller when the family praised him for running the tractor.
M got on the tractor, too, a little later, with P. Aunt and niece together. I don't think M was as interested in the machine operation as she was in getting a ride. But, it's good for the girly-girl ballet dancer to see my sister in action as a living example that women can do anything a man can do.
We also planted about eight fruit trees. Apples, mostly, but there's a pear and a plumb. That starts the orchard. Three generations of the family put those trees in the ground; and these trees will easily bear fruit for the next two generations to enjoy (God willing that the farm stays in the family that long). So, we were calling them the five-generation orchard. That thought seemed to make everyone feel deeply good about the work we did.
After all that, the kids got a treat -- Aunt P saddled up a horse and let the kids ride. R, being twelve and a half, and a strong intermediate horseman, rode solo for quite some time. M rode while Aunt P walked the horse on the lead line. Something tells me that by next planting day, M will be handling that horse by herself.
Akiko and Nekko are both buried in the cedar trees along the garden spot. I spent a couple minutes with them both on a couple occasions throughout the day. I'm not sure if any other family members thought to drop in on them. It's okay if they didn't. It seems that I grieve less intensely but for a longer period of time than do the rest of my family members. I needed to commune with their ghosts; the rest of the family members probably just bounded around the garden with the animal ghosts right behind them. It was me that needed a little quiet reassurance with them.
The local meme seems to be the word mashup "Juneuary". That's how we seem to be referring to the winter-like, Pineapple Express-style, incessant, crazy-making, depressing, endless pipeload of South Pacific moisture in the jet stream, aimed squarely at the Portland metro area for almost TWO WEEKS NOW!
Looking at the weather, we have ANOTHER WEEK TO GO!
<sigh>
On Saturday, we got a break in the constant downpours and found ourselves under mostly sunny skies. After two weeks of temperatures that barely cracked 60 degrees, the thermometer instantly bounded up to a shirtsleeve mid-70s. Oh. My. Gosh. It was like coming out of a bomb shelter and into the world again. I told our exchange student, Jin, that this is how our Junes are supposed to be, that the weather systems full of Fiji Water that won't go away are the culprit. That, as soon as they stop, our weather will be just like Saturday. I could tell… he wanted to believe.
Well, we had the chance to make the best of the sunny Saturday.
The Typhoon was invited to help as the ground crew for a local balloon pilot. We took them up on the offer, arriving at the launch location at 5am, dressed warmly, interested, and completely untrained. The untrained part didn't take long. With the quiet help of the two experienced ground crew folk, we all helped set up the basket, unfurl the balloon envelope, hook everything up, inflate the balloon with cold air, and hang on while the pilot heated the air to create lift. Then, we all piled in the chase vehicle and rode to the landing point, where we got to help land the balloon, take the balloon down, pack up the envelope and put everything in the trailer. From start to finish? 90 minutes. We were back at the launch point, standing at our car, just before 8am.
The kids and Catherine had a lot of fun. They thought it was great fun to have jobs like scurrying under the envelope while it inflated, thereby helping the balloon fill faster. They also liked how cool it was to catch the balloon when it landed, and to bundle it up.
With an adventure like ground crew out of the way, we got on with our day in the sunshine! For the girls, that included sewing a pioneer style dress for M's upcoming 'museum day' at school. Her class is putting on a Museum for Oregon Trail pioneers. M will be a docent, representing a young girl on the trail with her family. She wanted a pioneer dress. C and M used the weekend to make one.
For my part, I worked to get things ready to go in the yard. Mowed grass? Check. Installed the new pipe trellis for the wisteria? Check. Build the bench for the front yard? Check. Do all the other kitchen-related tasks while C and M made a dress? Check.
Now, if this all weren't enough, C has also been engaged in buying and selling furniture. I think Juneuary finally got to her. She embarked on a Craigslist binge, buying a round dining table, a hand-painted, funky-fun table for the kitchen nook, and brightly colored used living room furniture. Now, she's either sold or posted all the replaced furniture on craigslist. Gone (or soon to be gone) are the pub table (bummer), the 20 year old leather couch, and the kitchen table we bought back in the Fall. Take the money C can get for the furniture we have, and subtract what she paid for the 'new' stuff, and she's turned over the furnishings for most of the main floor of the house for about $150 out of pocket.
So Saturday had room preparation included – clear the rooms of the old furniture and – in the case of the dining room – receive the furniture.
By dinner time on Saturday, the Balloon pilot had emailed us official forms to fill out, thereby making us official ground crew helpers in the future. It would seem that we did an okay job!
Jin helped us move things as needed. Then, he spent Saturday afternoon and evening with a PIA group event at the Rose Festival, along with many of his international student colleagues. Late in the evening, we received a phone call that two of Jin's friends had missed the last bus to their respective neighborhoods and could we put them up downstairs for the night. C agreed, and made out the hide-a-bed. The friends then left at about 8am on Sunday morning. I never saw them, but C did. Their departure was my gentle wakeup to Sunday morning and the new day's activities.
Sunday, we rented a U-Haul and picked up the living room furniture from NE Portland.
Sunday. Ah yes, Sunday. The wonder sunny Saturday weather didn't hold. So Sunday, we picked up the living room furniture in a torrential downpour. I rented the truck, then stopped by the house to gather up Jin. As I pulled in to our driveway, I noticed something weird across the street. See, directly across the street from us is a short embankment with trees on it. The embankment goes up about 20 feet, then stops at another road above. What struck me was that lots of very muddy water was streaming out from a spot in the embankment where water had never streamed out before. The sudden emergence of muddy water from a hillside like that is an early warning sign of a landslide. Local authorities have been warning us that the ground is SO saturated now, that water has virtually nowhere to go. That creates the opportunity for chunks of hillside to actually start floating and sliding. Nothing has come of that spot so far, but we're watching it carefully. It's in a location where, if it slides, no homes should be directly impacted. Still, there are trees and power lines all in that tight space. A slide could be ugly in the short-term.
Jin and I drove in the downpour to NE Portland, where we picked up the furniture – a blue couch, a red love seat, and a yellow easy chair. We got the furniture home just in time to say hello to Grandma and Grandpa, who borrowed the kids for a family reunion picnic at Champoeg Park. Yes, in the rain. That, of course, left room for C and I to see the matinee performance of Oregon Ballet Theater's Bolero downtown. Lovely, that.
I liked Bolero very much (Bolero promotional image from www.obt.org) I didn't care so much for Hush, though. I don't know why. Originally debuted by OBT in 2009 , the choreography for Hush was complicated and unexpected, which should have been interesting to me. The performance showed clear mastery of the work. But I had difficulty 'feeling' the piece. Then again, maybe I didn't have any difficulty at all – detachment, loneliness and disappointment seemed to be themes to the piece. Perhaps I felt it just like I was supposed to feel it. It provoked internal thought, that much is certain (link to Hush review in The Oregonian)
Back home from the picnic and the ballet respectively, the girls struggled to finish the prairie dress by the end of the day Sunday. They were both burned out; neither wanted to finish. M was resisting learning how to sew to help. C was losing her patience and getting irritated; which only pushed M away more. They ultimately worked it out, but we had to frame the work for M – by age 9, a pioneer girl would already be expected to perform basic sewing tasks within the family. That helped her connect a bit better, I think.
Finally, with the dress done enough, C turned her attention to the kitchen table. At some point, the top of the kitchen table had been painted in a Memphis-meets-Picasso style. It's fun, casual. Except, that the leaf hadn't been painted at all. So, C put the leaf into the table, and penciled in a design that connected the two sides. In the center she plans to include a Dr Seuss quote that reads:
"Be you… those who matter don't mind, and those who mind, don't matter."
By late Sunday, she'd put down a base coat and had started on the background fields. I think she's rather excited about doing this to the table. And you know… based on the style and colors of the new living room furnishings, as well as the crazy style of the table, there's a sophisticated bit of Seuss-meets-Cubism in the whole room now. It's really kind of fun. And different. And it cost us effectively nothing to live with it for a while.
I got to attend the Observation Day for School of Oregon Ballet Theater yesterday.
It was really good for me to see a bit of how the school functions. Lovingly strict, disciplined. All business. Actually, it's quite to M's liking, this sort of structure. She's all business and highly focused when work is being done. She knows when to allow herself to get silly, too. Dance class? No silliness.
Normal SOBT rules stipulate that parents aren't to wait or loiter in the building. We drop children at the outside entrance, and pick them up outside as well. I always feel a bit like a groupie or an autograph hound haunting the theater stage door come pickup time. Even when we're there, we're not supposed to go past the gate at the lobby. So this was the first time I got to go behind the gate. Once I was in the center of the building, the rules for access started to make a LOT of sense. The space is well arranged for the dancers. The studio space and the central area let the dancers see each other and interact, inside and outside the separate dance studios. If parents just off the street were milling around in the central area of the building it'd be a huge distraction to the dancers as they work. I get it now.
As you might imagine, parents sat on chairs along one wall of the dance studio. The dancers were all positioned at four consequitive rows of barres. I'm guessing there were 40 students, of which five were boys. Instruction started without fanfare, introduction or a need to call students to attention. During class they went through drills, were quizzed on terminology, and practiced practiced practiced. About half of class was at the barre, the other half included some prances, and some other work the name of which I must admit that I don't know.
Then, class was over. Student discipline dropped from locked-and-loaded 9 on the scale to s restrained 7. Some children waved to their parents; all hugged the teacher in a circle hug. Then they quietly and quickly cleared the room and got their dance gear ready to go home.
Didn't look at all like our chaotic morning routine to leave the house, I must admit.
I also must admit that I couldn't have been prouder of M. She works hard in this class. She takes the instruction and correction very well. She seems to be in her element there; I'm delighted.
After class, I went to a company-related party. One of the local PR firms was celebrating 20 years and I was invited as a representative of Sunstone. So, I went directly from SOBT to 100 SW Main, just across the river. C and M changed clothes and headed over to the OBT performance Dance United, featuring visiting dancers from a number of ballet companies around the world.
At my party, I found myself next to Mayor Sam Adams, who stayed for about 15 minutes, I texted C that the Mayor was there. So imagine her surprise when, a few minutes after my text message, Mayor Sam Adams appeared on stage at Dance United to introduce the program! Laughing, C said she felt intimately connected to the Portland community at that moment! It was fun.
As a footnote, I've been told that my blog posts periodically show up on OBT's google news clipper searches. To date I've spoken my unedited personal opinion about SOBT, and will continue to do so.
So, what'd we do with a stay-at-home Memorial Day?
And we spent most of Sunday at an Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA) event learning about medieval history re-enactment.
So all-in-all, it was good. Glad we didn't try to go camping. The people at the SCA event were camping at the Columbia County Fairgrounds - it was a soggy, boggy mess. Though the event was supposed to last through Monday morning, fully half the camp was packed up and driven home during Sunday afternoon.
I do wish that we'd gone to the family compound at the beach for the weekend, but there were reasons best left unsaid here for why we couldn't go. I think we made the productive best of it, though. And I must say: even though we can't get our a car into the garage yet, our house is coming together nicely. All we need to do is sell the surplus appliances and we're in the garage with one vehicle. Two by next winter? Probably!
Last night was fencing class. R has been fencing for almost a year now. I've been fencing for about six months. And last night was our first experience using the electrics. I had a blast!
There were five of us in the class. I was the only adult; the other four ranged from ten to twelve in age. Though, one of those eleven year olds is a 5'9" girl who fences better than I do, So it was a good mix.
To fence electric foil, you run a wire down the sleeve of your fencing jacket. One end plugs into a socket on the electric foil, the other plugs into a cable that trails out the back of the jacket and back to a controller box at the end of the lane, Each fencer wears a jacket with metal mesh in it; each foil has a button switch on the end. Make contact with the jacket, and the electrics count a point successfully landed; push the button anywhere else NOT on the jacket, and the electrics ring an off-target hit, Brilliant!
Here's where it got different. Now that electronics were monitoring the touch, there's much less open to interpretation. I immediately figured out that I got credit for touches I'd previously passed on as short or insufficient. I also figured out that touches I'd tended to concede to my opponent often didn't ring as true on the electrics. Bonus!
I really enjoyed it. Really enjoyed it. Fencing with wires, I mean.
The teeny-boppers, though, didn't like it so much. Maybe its because they tend to do age appropriate things like argue over every point, and argue over every procedure, and argue over, well... arguing. You know what I mean:
"That last point didn't count because your foil <insert excuse/explanation/story here>"
"Will you please stop arguing about the last point and fence?
"I'm not arguing!"
Yeah. That sort of thing. Suddenly, with the impartial closing of an electrical circuit doing the counting, there's little to argue over. For a couple of the teeny-boppers, it frustrated them greatly. My son was one of the frustrated ones. He also learned that the electrics rang touches differently than he thought it would. Except in his case, he didn't get as many breaks toward points as he did before. See, what he normally claim as a touch ... didn't count all of a sudden.
Just for the record, it wasn't because the arguing was squelched that made electrics so enjoyable. Though squelching the argument was certainly a pleasant side-effect. Rather, it was just downright inspiring.
Did I mention I really liked it?
