The Great Debate: To Swing or To Slide

There was a time, back in the day, that Stella and I would walk to the park in our old neighborhood and I would spend the entire time pushing her on the swing. We are talking 45 minutes straight. I even figured out a way to incorporate an abdominal muscle workout timed to the rhythm of each push.

Enter Porter. He won’t be caught dead on a swing – and by the sound he makes each time I try to put him on one, you’d think I was trying to inflict Death by Swing. No, Porter is a slider – not to be confused with a miniature hamburger. Although sometimes I wonder….oh, nevermind.

One of the first orders of business once we moved in at 111 was to put that overgrown apple tree to use and install a couple of swings – knowing that at least there would be three of us who would use them.

So guess who went and grabbed her camera when just one short year later he not only put his padded little butt on those wood planks, but let his sister show him how to do it right proper – which naturally included the spin-till-your-brains-ooze-out-of-your-ears trick she is so proud of.

porter and stella

porter and stella

porter

porter

stella

140 characters in Twitter won’t even come close to summing this one up.

7:45pm: Realize Blanket has inadvertently been left in cubby at school

7:45-9:00pm: Screaming / Crying / Screaming / Crying / Collapse in complete emotional exhaustion

9:00-10:00pm: TV remote turns up missing and Doorknob Toucher spends an hour flipping the house inside out trying to locate it

12:00am: Dog initiates heated conversation with raccoons on front porch

4:45am: “Blaaaaannnnnnnket!”

7:34am: Belligerent 4-year-old allows dog to escape through garage

7:35am: 20 minutes of dog chasing through neighborhood marshland

8:00am: Long anticipated Blanket reunion

8:15am: Knock tooth on play structure and bleed all over blanket

8:17am: Blanket quarantined into plastic bag – back in cubby

8:25am: Call dentist to find out if toddler dentures will be in our future

8:30am: Afraid to leave office for fear that an anvil will fall on my head

The ‘Hood

We are currently in the midst of the time of year that explains why people would ever choose to live here voluntarily. From the months of August through late November Humboldt County experiences it’s only two traditional seasons: Summer and Fall. For the remaining months of the year we go through our other seasons Wet, Really Wet, Foggy, Miserable, Suicide Inducing and Windy. And believe it or not, this 4 month window makes up for all of it.

Because we realize just how important this time of year is to our physical and mental health, we take as many opportunities as possible to immerse ourselves in it. Our evening walks are a family affair, and are more about quality family time than they are about vigorous cardiovascular activity. Keeping these two kids on task is akin to herding an ADD clowder of cats. Porter usually goes back and forth about whether or not he will let his princely feet touch the ground, but when he does, he becomes harder to retrieve than an off-leash Ranger. He has a complete disregard for the idea of Private Property, and I am pretty certain it is only a matter of time before a neighbor finds an adorable but volatile 2-year-old wandering on their porch. Stella, on the other hand, cannot let any animal go ungreeted or piece of nature un-analyzed. Keeping her from picking everyone’s carefully cultivated flowerbeds is like attempting to deprive her of air.

Our immediate and extended neighborhood are an interesting hodge-podge of rural landscape. Our house falls in a cluster of modest ranch-style dwellings originally built in the early to mid 1960’s. It is unimpressive at first glance, but we have always seen it for what it eventually will become, not for what it is right now. It was the location and lot that drew us to 111, not the upside-down cabinets and single pane windows. There is actually a good group of people on our street, and much to our surprise, a lot of kids.

The road that runs perpendicular to ours is a small extension to our mini sub-division of houses, then rolls into what we refer to as “Little Oklahoma”. This area is populated with a delectable group of livestock-owning, cars-in-front-yard-sporting, penned-up-hound-possessing residents that are not uncommon in the rural enclaves around these parts. What is also not uncommon is that this area is interlaced with about a dozen or so newly built sprawling homes. Let’s just say that although there are homes in this area whose main design feature is a blue tarp, the remaining unbuilt lots at the end of the road are rumored to be priced somewhere in the $700K range. This is our usual route. And although it is less than a mile, it takes us the better part of an hour.

As we were heading out of the house one of the days last week I decided to run back in at the last minute and grab my camera. I figured this was one of those things that you can’t really understand unless you see it. And although I didn’t find an opportunity to get any good shots of our Dust Bowl Era settlers, I was able to capture a the essence of our evening stroll.

You’ll see the rubber frog that lives on the landscaping out front of one of the houses along the way. This frog has become a holy touchstone for both children. It gets man-handled and re-position each time we pass it. I also was sure to include the cat that is brave enough to hang out with us even though we have a large salivating dog who is still somewhere around step 2 in his cat 12-step program. (you’ll notice that there are a handful of pictures of Porter with the cat, then a shot of Ranger who is a great distance away and still fixated on the fact that there is a CAT, A CAT, A CAT!!!) More than anything, though, I just wanted to capture the beauty that reminds me why we choose to call this place home.

=porter steve stella ranger
(click photo to see the entire set)