He's A Lumberjack And He's Okay...

I'm not sure this is how *all* computer nerds spend their vacation... er, I mean time between jobs, but this is how it's done around here.

Yep, Emile was laid off about a week and a half ago and we're thinking we just might try to stretch this time off out for a bit. We have a few projects planned that require beams and Emile has been eyeing some dead trees both on our property and at Jim and Mary's place.

Jim got all excited about using his wildlife motion-activated camera to capture part of the process.

Emile got all excited because the motion sensor meant that all the time he spent standing around hemming and hawing and wondering what the heck he was doing wasn't recorded.

Meanwhile, Larkin, Finn and I are at home wondering how much time we can buy with Emile if we are very, very frugal. Life has been an odd combination of stress and relief lately.

Sorely shorn, Samson snored

I've been trying to convince Larkin to cut her hair for years. In fact, I had pretty much given up trying to convince Larkin to cut her hair and had resigned myself to a lifetime of supporting her braiding and detangling habits. A few days ago, in a brisk wind, I randomly waxed nostalgic for having hair short enough that it wouldn't get in my eyes in the wind. Today, she needed to go get a hair cut. Right now.

Lest ye have forgotten the magnitude of hair of which we speak:

That's a lot of hair. The hair cutter (barber? barberess? salon lady? stylist?) was Fantastic. She didn't seem overly despondent that Larkin was cutting her hair, talked directly to Larkin rather than to me, checked in before doing anything irreversible, and was happy to take the extra time and steps necessary for us to save the hair for donation. After some on-line research, we chose to send the hair to Wigs For Kids, but it hasn't been mailed yet so if you know something we don't about hair donation, please let me know!

First step, separating the hair into quadrants and gathering the sections:

Then the moment after which there was no going back:

Somehow the tails left on the chair were a little sad. These are the first two:

I'm pretty sure Larkin grinned the whole time and never had a second thought. Boy does this kid embrace life experiences.

She had almost two feet of length taken off, total. The end result:

And one from the side for full appreciation:

She *loves* it. And can't stay away from reflective surfaces. And chattered all the way home about how she couldn't believe anyone would want to have long straight hair. And used it as an excuse to talk Emile into taking her swimming as soon as we got home ("It'll be like a celebration... and I want to know what it's like to swim without a long braid!")

I totally expected some anguish, second thoughts, moments of regret, maybe even a few tears. Heck, I wasn't even sure we were actually going to leave the haircut shop with more than a trim. I guess this just proves (again) that I shouldn't project potential angst onto this kid who seems pretty certain the world is all rainbows and unicorns.

Fortitude

My living room is currently occupied by the most prodigious blanket fort I have ever had the privilege to witness.

Through the main doors is the central office and crafting space.

If you proceed down the hallway to the left at the entrance, you will find yourself in the spacious, yet cozy, sleeping chambers.

The modest back annex houses the changing room, affording ample head space for ease and comfort while providing full blanket coverage for privacy.

Larkin, Finn and friend Sage tucked into the fort about midnight last night. They went in and out for triplicate bedtime hugs (and possibly to demonstrate the practicality and hardiness of their creation) before I was ushered off to bed. We had our house fan on, cooling off the house with the night air. I sat at the top of the stairs in the breeze for several minutes, listening to the rise and fall of their voices but unable to decipher individual words. They were speaking softly, almost lyrically, in rhythms that could have been lullabies or ghost stories. I don't often have these squishy moments, revelling in sweetness, but I'm learning to stop and enjoy it when they sneak up on me.

In Which I Demonstrate My Deeply Intimidating Nature

We've always had bears around our place, but last spring a mama with three (3!) cubs was hanging around a whole lot. I think we're seeing so much action right now because those cubs are grown up and exploring. We've had a lot of luck with firecrackers and a slingshot (I like scaring them away without causing any harm), but it's a two person job to light/load the firecracker and fling it before it explodes.

So Emile and the kids were out of town last week and I had heard a lot of suspicious noises outside, but it was never close enough to the house to worry me. Finally, on Sunday night, the noises were much closer and I thought a bear was tearing up our shed. It was close enough that I got a good look at it then flung firecrackers, clapped my hands, shouted and generally tried to make an auditory nuisance of myself. It really didn't care. At all.

At this point, I decided retreat was perhaps the finest part of valour so I went inside and even decided to lock the doors since a bear that unfazed around humans (you know, the really tough-looking, intimidating types like me) might just decide to come through a sliding glass door into the kitchen for a snack. In retrospect, I realize a lock probably wouldn't stop it if it decided to come in, but I wasn't thinking particularly clearly at that point.

 

All was quieter for a few minutes, but then the noises started up again and I decided I'd give this whole menacing gig one last try. I went back out onto the porch, pulling the door shut with nary a second thought... until I heard the lock click behind me. At this point, I was outside with no flashlight, chainsaw, axe, or any other useful implement of self-defense. Heck, I wasn't even wearing pants since the bear sounds had pulled me out of bed. The bear was making lots of loud thrashing noises, but I could only faintly see where it was because it was Dark. Some of those thrashing noises sounded distinctly like charging to my adrenaline-addled brain.

I had to go closer to the bear to get off the porch, then headed for a kitchen window. I put a thumb-sized hole in the screen so I could pull it out, then was very relieved to discover that the window was not locked. It was, however, at neck height and only opened about 18 inches. In what can only be described as a masterful feat of ninja-like reflexes and superhuman upper body strength, I pulled myself into the kitchen, at which point I decided the bear could do whatever the heck it wanted as long as it stayed outside. I'm pretty sure I was locked outside for all of about 20 seconds. Twenty very long seconds.

It turns out that whatever (valiant and purely related to my exhibition of graceful physicality-- I'm pretty sure "gazelle-like" applies here) noise I was making during my retreat was the last straw for the bear. Once inside, I caught it trundling away in the flashlight's beam. I'm going to go ahead and assume that my defensive display has thoroughly chastened it and we won't be seeing it again any time soon.

Of Tricks, Treats and Batiks

Lest anyone think that we forgot Halloween this year, fear not!

This year, Finn was a Minecraft piggy and Larkin was Katara, from the fantastic animated series Avatar: The Last Airbender. And, dang it, I have to include one of the back of Larkin's head because that hairstyle was not easy!

Emile enjoyed making the pig head, but next year we really want to help Finn figure out a costume that does not obstruct his vision... he had a great time, but it could have been better.

When not preparing these fantastic costumes, we have been working on a batik project using water soluble glue rather than wax (much more kid friendly). We practised on some leftover toddler-sized white shirts from our days of dying past:

 

Larkin enjoyed designing, gluing and painting hers from start to finish (somehow I can't find the picture I'm sure I took of hers). Finn wanted me to do the glue outlines while he painted (or sprayed) on the colour (those lizards are his handiwork).

IKR? SMH...

I can't remember what amusing incident sparked this.

Finn: LOL
Me: Do you know what that means?
Larkin: Laughing out loud! OMG!
Me: And that is...?
Finn [rolling on the floor and giggling]: Oh. My. God.
Me: I think you mean ROFL. Do you know that one?
Finn: ... ruffle your tail feathers?
Me: Yeah, pretty much.

Many Happy Returns

Apparently, I have been so swept up in the living of life that I've been lapse in recording it. Ah well. This will read much like a travel log, since that is how we have been spending a great deal of our time.

In August, we put our passports to good use (after being told by the border patrol that we really ought to take the time to sign them... whoops) and spent a week with my family by the Shuswap lake in B.C. It was wonderful to connect with family I haven't seen in many years, most of whom had never met Larkin and Finn.

We were suitably wowed by the spread at Auntie Barb and Uncle Don B.'s annual fish feed and wild game dinners, the kids went on countless tubing rides courtesy of infinitely patient cousin Ken, I experienced the daunting nightly Canadian happy hours for the first time as a card-carrying adult, Jim and I hiked through some pretty awesome nearby alpine meadows, we took a day trip to Salmon Arm and drove by what used to be my grandparents' house (sniff), and the whole trip felt like the perfect backdrop for my Uncle Don L.'s memorial service.

Finn still (seemingly at random) reminisces about his time on the lake with Ken and how he and Uncle Don B. calculated that he must be one quarter Canadian. Larkin was especially thrilled to get in a whole week of water play, with the bonus of similarly-aged cousin Katey. Emile wishes he had gotten up on those skis at least once.

And this. This is how I remember childhood vacations:

In September, we were off to UROCK, the unschoolers yurt campout at the Oregon coast that has become an annual highlight of Larkin's and Finn's summers. They spent the long weekend playing at the beach, making countless s'mores by the campfire, exploring the wildlife trails through the bush behind our yurt, and reconnecting with friends that they don't get to see nearly as often as they would like.

This year, as an added bonus, Emile and I also got a chance for a short huckleberry-intensive visit with two of our favorite people!

Helen Fey and Danelle had recently moved to the area and it was so nice to catch up with them again.

In October, Emile had to go down to San Francisco for an all-hands work meeting. Unfortunately (ahem), there was a big sales conference going on at the same time and the only room they were able to find for him was the "Kids Suite" at a swank downtown hotel. After assuring them he could suffer through the accommodation, we decided we might as well all go.

The kids and I went to the Exploratorium, many little art galleries (the stand-outs being Dr. Seuss, an exhibit of photographs of the Beatles, and Picasso), toured Alcatraz, visited the Conservatory of Flowers which had an exhibit on carnivorous plants, and wandered in Golden Gate Park. All while being shocked at how expensive everything in the city was. Then Finn and Larkin went off for two nights with the San Jose cousins and left me to fend for myself in the city for a day. I walked to the City Lights book store (uphill, both ways!) and wandered the Yerba Buena Gardens, then Emile and I went out for a delicious big-city dinner.

It was a fantastic trip, but we were all pretty ready to go home to the forest at the end of the week.

Next week, we're off to Boston (!) to visit Emile's brother, his wife and our (relatively) new niece, Ellory. Then maybe we'll stay home for a few months and work on some of those projects we've been hoping to tackle.