We were informed by the Ministry of Brethren, Kinfolk and Progenitors that our official Family Card will not be issued until we provide proof that all four of us have survived a long-range road trip together. Lucky for us, our summer odyssey was a success, and we should be receiving it any day now. There were so many special circumstances that I am thinking of asking that we be awarded special supplemental certification in the following areas:

Packing

Due to the frequent number of times that he was forced to load and unload the car, Steve is considering a second career as a professional car packer. One of his trademark tools is that of the handled shopping bag. No matter how much luggage we own, when it comes to road trips, he insists that we use duffel bags and shopping bags. Being that we only have two decent duffel bags, and 4 members of our family (one of them being an infant), you can imagine the number of handled shopping bags required to confine our gear. I made small inroads suggesting we use some of my larger tote bags, but we still ended up leaving town with an array of shopping bags from all of the finer shopping establishments of the greater Humboldt County shopping districts. Somewhere around day 6 or so, I suggested we have a family meeting to discuss the purchase of 2 new duffel bags. I am proud to say that each member of the Walston family now has it’s own individual duffel bag. Look out middle class! Here we come!

Carsickness

There was one thing every Anderson road trip had in common: I would at some point, get carsick. Recently, the amount of time I have had to spend either in the backseat, or turned around to attend to a kid who has dumped a container of yogurt all over herself, has made me realize that although it has been latent for a good part of my adult life, my car-sickness is definitely still there – waiting just under the surface, willing me to want to crawl into a ball on the floorboard. It is for this reason that I play Morgan Freeman to Steve’s Jessica Tandy in our own demented version of Driving Miss Daisy. So, it came as no surprise as we heard those dreaded words from Stella: “My tummy hurts!” Quicker than you can say “Drug me up!”, we had her chewing up half a Dramamine, and waiting for the happy sleep magic to begin. No such luck. Apparently my children won’t even sleep when plied with drugs. The upside, however, was that although she reported not feeling so good numerous times throughout our time on the road, she didn’t – during any of our travels – show us the contents of her stomach.

Hazardous Environmnents

We did our best to escape the heat by heading to Mineral King for a couple of days. Unlike the Walston Cabin, which is a very nice house that happens to be located in the mountains, the cabin my parents have access to is a dwelling that dates back to the early 1900’s – complete with delapidated deck, separate bathroom outbuilding, firepit and a creek just a few short feet away. It was comfortable and inviting, and provided Stella with about a thousand new ways in which to experience nature. Whether it was walking off the deck (twice), or wading (fully clothed) waist-deep in the creek, or burning marshmallows over the campfire, or spending the entire 3 days covered head to toe in dirt, she would leave no pine-cone unturned. But she came back alive, and with all her appendages. And to know my daughter and her lack of a fear instinct, that is saying a lot.

Watersports (and other recreational activities)

My parents never invested in a pool – instead choosing to pawn off their children on all the neighbors and family friends who did have one. So naturally, I was proud to introduce Stella to the wonderful world of Anderson water sports: a bucket and a sprinkler. Needless to say, she loved it. But it wasn’t until we introduced her to the cement pond over at Camp Walston that she realized her true water superpowers. After about 3 minutes of coyly contemplating the landscape she was headed for the deep-end with nothing but her Carmen Miranda suit, a heavy slathering of 48 spf, and a hot pink pair of water wings. Duck, meet water. She got so arrogant at one point that she demanded we take her water wings off – no matter how much we tried to explain to her their key role in her success. She waded out to the shallow-end only to lift her feet and sink like a stone. Point made. Between the pool and the brand new commercial-grade play structure, it was like having one gigantic hamster wheel that would exhaust her into napping submission.

We plunked Porter in the pool a couple of times so he could watch his sister do her patrols of the water toys, but overall he tended towards the more logical activites – more specifically, those which kept him comfortably within the range of the air conditioner. He wowed us all with his ability to grab at the toys we obediently dangled in front of him, cooed and gurgled conversation and suckered us all into lolling around on the floor with him. Lucky for him, his sister was distracted enough with her own mini Disneyland that she actually left him alone for once.

Rest is for the Weak

Upon leaving the valley, we headed for one final stop in the bay area to visit the fun-time-candyland known as Uncle Thad and Aunt Celene’s house. After playing a bit of musical beds (Celene being the lucky winner stuck with Stella-the-sideways-sleeper) we managed to find a way to fit 6 people into a two-bedroom apartment. Stella managed to finagle some quality pool time, and Porter was stuck going on wedding errands with Celene and I. Dudes love that kind of stuff.

We made it home without incident and were glad for the opportunity to change things up a bit. And as usual, there are photos of all of it.