...is what you might have called me, if I had actually managed to hang this wreath on the first day of summer rather than the last.
"This was meant to be," I told Dave. It was two days before our planned escape to Santa Barbara, and I had just attempted to secure the house we wanted to rent, only to learn it had been booked an hour earlier. My bad. So instead I scrambled to find us another place to stay, and we sort of stumbled upon this house that didn't have any reviews and hardly had any pictures. But on paper it sounded good, and the lady was willing to give us a last-minute deal, so...OK.
Of course Santa Barbara is amazing, and of course you can't go wrong there, but the house turned out to be this hidden little jewel that was the absolute highlight of the trip. It was up in the canyon, nestled on top of a steep, lushly terraced lot. The house was built in 1902 - as an artist's studio? - and the main room had the most beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows I've ever seen, with a view out to the ocean on one side and a view of the private lush backyard on the other.
There was a rope swing on a giant Mission fig tree in the front yard, and in the back there were two lounge chairs and an umbrella for total relaxation. It was absolutely an indoor/outdoor house (when we got there, all the doors and windows were open) - the most surprising aspect being that the refrigerator was not in the kitchen but on the deck outside. As weird as that sounds, the door to the kitchen was always open, and we ate outside, so it just made perfect sense.
Dave and I slept in the master bedroom (probably a later addition to the house) with not one but two doors leading outside (much to Dave's delight) and the boys slept in one big bed in the original bedroom, which also came with an enormous built-in cabinet filled with toys. Luke enjoyed looking for lizards in the backyard; Zach's favorite part was (of course) the water heater.
Oh, sure, we were tourists. We embraced our inner dorkiness and rented a surrey (without a fringe on top) and rode up and down the bike path at the water's edge. We went to three of the city's most amazing parks, one of which was featuring an international dance festival. And of course we went to the mission, although the chief attractions for the boys were the cemetery (Luke) and a fountain that just happened to have a dead fish in it (Zach). Zach dutifully clambered up the stairs to the main church, sat quietly as we reflected at the artwork, and then when we told him it was time to go, made a beeline back down the stairs and across the courtyard to go look at the dead fish again.
For Dave, one of the highlights had to be our trip to La Super-Rica Taqueria, a hole-in-the-wall place with no sign that is a Mexican foodie's delight, and a favorite of Julia Childs' when she lived in Santa Barbara. We took the insiders' advice and ordered as many dishes as we could contemplate eating (ask me for a rundown), then settled down for a long and satisfying lunch. We were planning on having leftovers, but for some reason (!) we barely had anything left to show for it at the end.
Now that they're gone, we're in a strange sort of limbo: It's the end of the summer and all of the associated fun stuff is essentially over, but it's not quite time to start school yet so we aren't settled into any routines. With mom and dad gone, I'd like to say the house is quieter, but it's actually noisier now that there are fewer things and people distracting the boys from bickering with each other. Yesterday morning I had to separate the boys because (no joke) they were fighting over an adhesive "No Solicitors" sign - the kind you stick to a door in an office.
Zach is, as I've mentioned several times, is thrilled to be home. But certain elements of his time back East definitely captured his imagination. The other morning he came up to me and said, "Mom, when they built this house they forgot to put in the attic. And they forgot to put in a basement." So now we know what Zach wants for his birthday: at least one more level on the house. Got that, Dave?
Last in case anyone doubted that Luke is the smartest kid in town, get a load of this: Dave has started giving him random numbers to add in his head (example: What is the total of the ages of everyone in our family?) and Luke gets it right every time. With two-digit numbers! With digits you have to carry! Last night at dinner Dave said to him, "How about two of my lucky numbers - What's 47 plus 47?" Without missing a beat, Luke declared, "94!" and then Dave said, "You know, I never realized that's our house number too." That's right, we live at double 47. Somehow I knew we were in the right place.
"Once a-POWN a time," Zach's story begins, "I was a little piece of sand. And I got stuck in someone's shoe. And they walked all the way home and took off the shoe and took a shower. And I went down the drain and through the pipes to the water heater. And then I came back up into the...toilet."
At the end of the day, when I ask Luke what was his favorite part of the day, the answer has started to become predictable: "Everything."
But here's why I can't get enough of him: If you can channel that passion, it's a beautiful thing. Yesterday at the adventure farm, he fell in love with the giant slingshot. Then he found out that if you hit a target (a large cutout of a water bottle or Coke bottle) that was about 30 yards away, you'd win a prize. Of course he didn't care much about the prize (a Coke keychain) but he was determined to win it. He shot tennis ball after tennis ball through the slingshot, extending his range and refining his aim. "I am going to win this, Mom," he declared. Even the teenager monitoring the slingshot game was smiling and shaking his head.
All of this is not to say that Zach hasn't been enjoying himself too. What's not to like about staying over in a red caboose? With not one but two sets of bunk beds? After we checked in, Zach spent the first 30 minutes running back and forth singing, "We're in a caboo-oose, we're in a caboo-oose!" But it surprised even me how much Luke enjoyed it. He pretty much made himself comfortable on the top bunk, declared it the coziest place he'd ever been, and stayed in his little nook for as long as he could, right up until checkout.
I'm also pleased to see Luke's confidence picking up as he branches out to do new things. Zach didn't want to climb up the hundred stairs to the top of the "watchtower" (grain silo) but Luke was more than happy - in fact, he led the way (see pic above). At the pick-your-own farm earlier today we learned we could get pears, so Luke grabbed the pear-picking stick and got to work. Then we weren't sure if the raspberries were plentiful or good enough for picking, but Luke assured us he'd find a way. He led the charge, green cardboard picking-pints in hand, confidently down row after row of raspberry bushes, until he had collected a beautiful pint-ful.
Last but not least, the boys and I have a little bit of a sentimental connection to baby chicks because of a game I've played with both of them since they were very small. That's why one of the chief attractions of the adventure farm - a little coop with about 20 baby chicks - was a great thing for them. They picked them up, not especially gently, but well enough to do the job, and were captivated for a long time, stroking and talking to them softly. We learned that the chicks squawk and yelp if you let their legs dangle, but if you cup your hand underneath them and make a little nest-type thing for them to curl up in, they'll stay with you as long as you like. Good to know.
There is SO much to say about Luke, but today it's all about Zach. Like most three-year-olds, Zach is at one moment unbelievably cute and at the next moment incorrigible. In the past week he has simultaneously added joy to this trip and made it incredibly difficult. But happily for the rest of us he is a sucker for the charms of my dad, who managed to capture him in a few rare, silly, unguarded moments in front of the camera. Here he is holding his new little cat named Balloony (that's "Balloon" with a "y" at the end; not to be confused with "baloney").
Zach's new thing is all toilet talk, all the time. He doesn't really talk about gross stuff, he just likes to insert "toilet" into just about any point in the conversation because that's apparently high comedy among the three-year-old set. The other day when he woke up from his nap he was just lying there in bed for a while so I asked him what he was thinking about. "Oh, I'm just thinking about that toilet machine," he said, pointing to the air conditioner. You get the picture.
Today on the way home from the pool Zach started making up some songs using only the word "toilet" and Luke begged him to stop, so Zach obligingly came up with something new (sung to the tune of "Twinkle Twinkle"):
We took Zach to his first movie today ("Cats and Dogs") and he sat through the whole thing (on my lap) without getting up; in part because I kept giving him some M&Ms every few minutes. When we got home he and I brought the old game of Ker-Plunk down from the attic and he had a great time playing with me and Luke and Dad. Then after everyone else had enough, he played with it alone, methodically putting the sticks back in the holes and plopping the marbles in before letting it all loose again. When he was finally ready to stop, he put the whole thing away in the box and carried it around the house with great care so as not to lose a single piece.
Is it worth talking about the times that make us miserable? No, it's not. Anyone who has ever known a 3-year-old can probably imagine. Last night at Rosemary and Fred's house he accidentally knocked over a table with few plants and a china saucer, which smashed to pieces. Fortunately, they are professional grandparents who have more patience and loving indulgence than we could ever ask for. Zach must have been feeling guilty about it on some level because on the way out the door he told Fred he would come back over to help him fix it. And then he said thank you to Rosemary. Except he called her Fred.
Now we are in hot and sticky New Jersey, and today was basically a day of rest except for the traditional trip to the organic pick-your-own farm. Today's haul included blackberries, tomatoes, eggplant, peppers, and a few mosquito bites. Here are the boys chilling out in the shade at the farmhouse after picking, and although they were certainly hot, I think the tiredness was at least a little bit theatrical.
Zach had a great time picking (and eating) blackberries and then he was pretty much finished. But Luke had the most stamina of anyone, and he was rewarded at the end of the trip with a row full of the sweetest cherry tomatoes we've ever had. Is it possible he likes them even more than the M & Ms he devoured on the airplane yesterday? He sure ate enough. Afterwards I showed him how delectable it is to sink your teeth into the bigger tomatoes - still warm from the sun - just like an apple, and he wholeheartedly agreed.
One thing I love about going to the farm is seeing produce that grows in all sorts of unusual shapes and sizes and doesn't quite fit the "mold." That's why I asked Dad to take a picture of this pyramid-shaped eggplant for me. It's so cool-looking I almost don't want to eat it... but I will.
Every afternoon at 2 pm, and every evening at 7 pm, a train rolls by down the street from where my parents live. Tonight we managed to walk down there in time to see the whole train, much to Zach's delight. After the train had passed he wanted to stand there for a long time, studying the tracks, not getting too close, but taking in every detail. We are looking forward to 2 pm tomorrow.
Who says you can't get a whole bunch of people on a big bumpy... slide ... walker ... thingy? We've had a full house this weekend with a mini-reunion of Eric's mom, his siblings, and their kids. It was a full and lively day at the park and at the beach with seven kids and eight adults total. Luke of course had a blast with his cousins, but also spent a surprisingly large part of the day peppering Eric with questions about every possible detail of Harry Potter. We will probably need to call him with questions when we get around to reading the books.
The bumpy slide-walker thingy, which is a little diversion at our elementary school park, was something we had never given much thought to until the cousins came to town. Once all of the grownups started hopping on, and off, and up, and down - it turned into at least a half-hour of hair-raising fun for big and little alike (and yes, that's Eric's mom Linda on the end). Linda had so much fun she declared that someone needed to create "geriatric" parks for older folks to have fun exercise and improve balance, etc.
Somehow at the beach kids never seem to get enough of getting buried in the sand. This time it was Helena's turn, and although Antonia and Luke and Isabella spent quite a bit of time on it, it was Zach who seemed to take the most glee in doing the finishing touches. Sooner or later he's going to want to be buried and he's going to realize that it's no fun to have sand dribbled on your head when you can't reach your arms.
The kids also love to go to Elizabeth's house because it's full of all sorts of curiosities. When she hauls out the "kids box" of (quiet) toys, it's a mad rush to see what's inside. Luke and Helena and Antonia have a special place in their heart for the window paints (that can be wiped off), and Elizabeth likes it too because she when she wakes up in the morning she gets to read all sorts of fun messages to "Auntie E."
OK - too many pictures, not enough time for words. While I go off to pack for our trip to see even more cousins, I'll leave you with a few extra pics. In no particular order: pizza swing, Elizabeth's porch, Zach meets cookie, Helena and I after doing our nails; kids devouring a 24-inch pizza.
You know those lazy summer days when you just sit around and don't do anything? We didn't have that kind of weekend. We jam-packed so many activities into this weekend that when we finally came home our heads were spinning. Usually at the end of the day we ask the boys, "What was your favorite part of the day?" but tonight we had to amend it to something like, "Can you narrow down your six or seven most favorite parts of the day?"
I was hoping to be able to remember all of the details of our cabin, but fortunately Luke did the work for me. He went around the cabin and took about 40 pictures recording every single detail, from the fire extinguisher to the grill to the toilet. I probably won't be posting them here. But he was nice enough to take a few pictures on demand, including one of the only pictures of me and Dave you'll see from this vacation.
Today we took the ski lift up the mountain for a "sky tour" of the valley, all the way to the peak, and then did a little hiking around. 
Dave got the boys interested in the whole affair by announcing that we were going to take a ride up "Ice Cream Mountain" where there were treats waiting on top. And even though Zach wasn't initially thrilled with the ski lift, he was happy as a clam once we got used to the zen-like feeling of floating in the air above the valley. Of course the reward of ice cream at the top made it that much sweeter. There were a few big rocks to climb at the peak and Luke impressed us all with his quick and nimble shimmy all the way to the top. And of course once Luke did it, Zach needed to follow suit.
After we came down from the mountain we went down to the marina and rented a little pontoon boat for a one-hour tour. The lake was a little choppy, which made Dave's grin a little more maniacal and the boys a little more worried (five minutes into the voyage, Luke was asking, "Is the hour up yet?")
But once we settled into a comfortable groove, we were feeling a little better about it. Zach especially - he fell sound asleep for the duration of the boat ride.
We are at the happiest little cabin in the mountains, a jolly little green cabin known as Apple Jacks, and we are having an unexpectedly great time. (Zach: "What is this called again?" Me: "A cabin." Zach: "Yeah. A cabin. I like this cabin.") (Editor's note: All of my good pictures are on my phone, so I'll have to update this when I get back to my regular technology set-up at home).
In the afternoon we sort of stumbled into a rickety old town museum. As we pulled up Dave and I were chuckling to ourselves about how lame it was probably going to be... and then we walked in to see cases and cases of gemstones from mining operations, and the docent said, "You're here just in time to do some panning for gold!" And of course that made the afternoon for both Luke and Zach. Oh, and a friendly blacksmith made little "pirate peanut butter knives" for both of them.
Then we didn't quite have time to get to the hike we wanted to do, but we pulled over to the side of the road because we saw all sorts of people walking on this cool little boardwalk through the marsh areas. And that in and of itself was a huge attraction too. It turns out that boys love water, mountains, cozy cabins, going fast, and finding sparkly things in the dirt. Oh, and girls do too. Go figure.
If I could only use one word to describe Luke these days, it would be "exuberant." Somehow, through a combination of summer vacation, cool activities, and fun friends, he has suddenly hit his stride. He walks through the day with a perpetual smile on his face, and he just bubbles over with enthusiasm to tell you every detail about Star Wars (Episodes I through IV), his DS prowess, playing in the ocean, his favorite movie quotes, or his plans for future Lego projects.
Well, in that case, I'm going to need to sign off. But I'll make things more interesting by putting up a pic of our last night with the Florida clan - a long dinner table, lots of food, and a happy, happy group. For real.
So two weeks ago at the farmers' market I asked my friendly stone-fruit lady if she had any bruised seconds that I could use for jam. Why yes, as a matter of fact she did. In a massive milk crate were 20 pounds of peaches, apricots, and nectarines that were headed straight for the trash bin unless I took them. So I lugged them home and got to work making some of the best jam I've ever had. The next week I brought her a big jar of apricot jam, and she responded with an even bigger gift - a whopping 30 pounds of plums. Needless to say, I've been "jamming" all week long.
That's where my dad comes in. Yesterday I got a medium-sized brown package in the mail from him that was curiously light. I opened it up to read a small note: "Premium Mix Compost Helper. A hand-picked selection of prime northern hardwood foliage by Jersey Brown Thumb Ltd. (Purveyors to the Queen). Guaranteed to provide the necessary roughage for perfect compost. *Be sure to look for the free gift in every package."
But more mysterious (as if there could be something more mysterious than getting a package filled with dried leaves) was the "free gift" - a small cardboard box that had been carefully taped shut. It was even lighter than the leaf bag and made no noise when you shook it. We gingerly peeled off the tape and opened the box to find the teeniest, tiniest, most perfect little bird's nest you've ever seen. Zach and I gently lifted it out and brought it outside to its new home, in a little crook in the bird-of-paradise tree in the backyard.
