Saturday, August 30, 2008

Camping

We just came home from a fun camping trip in the Uintas. I say "fun" in a discriminating way that would include a deliciously starry night while excluding the frost on the outside of our tent, include the excitement of catching some fish while excluding our decidedly long learning curve as we gutted and filleted the fish.

This was Jacob and Zachary's first camping trip with their OWN sleeping bags. Apparently there is nothing more exciting than owning your own sleeping bag. They have slept in them every night this week, at home and while camping.
Eric sits with Zachary and Michael by the fire. A few minutes after this picture was taken, the boys were covered in melted marshmallow, which was the perfect sticking place for the dirt that they crawled around in. 
Eric comes home with the catch! I've always considered Eric a "manly" man, but a man who can live off the land? Ow! 
Jacob tries his hand at fishing! He's become a good little caster.

We camped near Teapot Lake, one of our favorites, which is near Lily Lake. In the background behind my left shoulder, you can see a huge osprey nest that has been there for several years. 


Zachary and Michael aren't quite into fishing yet. Their favorite parts about camping are rolling around on the sleeping bags in the tent and rolling around in the dirt outside the tent.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Excited

We're planning on going camping tomorrow. Jacob is really excited. This morning when he got up, he raced downstairs and brought up all of our camping gear: sleeping bags, the tent, cooking utensils, camping chairs, and an ice scraper. "That's in case we want to stay until winter," he said.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Kite flying

A fortuitous encounter with a kite sale provided an exciting Monday afternoon for us. As Eric let the kite up, the conversation was almost poetic:

Jacob: "Ooh, hurry."
Amy: "Isn't this the perfect day?"
Michael: "Ooh."
Eric: "Do kites go this high? I never see them go this high."
Zachary: "I fly the kite over to the sky."
Amy: "This is just the perfect day."
Eric: "Do kites even go this high? I've never seen them go this high."
Jacob: "It was almost going to the ground."
Eric: "I'm not worried about the kite. I'm worried about power lines and windshields."
Jacob: "It was almost going to the ground. It's diving down!"
Michael: "Ooh."
Amy: "I wonder what the world record is."
Jacob: "Let's have it land now."
Eric: "Is this legal? There's probably some law about the height of a kite."
Michael: "Ooh."

I felt like the repetition, especially with Michael's punctuated "ooh" and the repeated phrases, made the conversation read like "A Game of Chess" from Eliot's The Wasteland, minus the heavy post-war despair. Maybe an idyllic version of Eliot's stream of consciousness style. The world record for the longest kite flight, according to a moderately credible looking website, is 180 hours. 

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Who needs Maui?

































































Last night Eric and I took the kids to the Great Salt Lake, home of gushy brine shrimp, sand fly swarms, and a singular egg salad stench. We had a blast! The kids played in a sand patch, which Jacob aptly described as "sand like sand should be." Eric floated easily, even with Zachary sitting on him. We took the inflatable boat out, made tin foil dinners, and watched the sunset. To top it off, we arrived home just in time to see a fireworks show that the country club was putting on. Magical!

Friday, August 22, 2008

Coolness

I should have started a blog four weeks ago. Four weeks ago, I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, ran a marathon, and went camping!   

This week I painted the laundry room. (Oh, that's cool, Amy. You probably painted it something awesome, like Saybrook Sage or Tranquil Breezes Blue.) I painted it yellow. (Oh. Like Citrus Mist?) I think that it was called Grandma's Kitchen Yellow. 

So I'll post again when something really exciting happens. Until then, know that I'm enjoying my break from the laundry while the paint dries.