Meet me at the fair

One of our top ten regrets about leaving Syracuse several months before we'd planned is that we were unable to bask in the wonder and spectacle that is the Great New York State Fair. Jeremy and I have always been fair folk (which is different from "carnies," if you're taking notes), but we have never seen anything like unto the Great New York State Fair. We aren't much for carnival rides, but we love strolling through the animal barns, scurrying away from escaping pigs, and watching livestock and horse competitions.


So believe me when I say that we were prepared to be disappointed in our visit to last weekend's North Idaho Fair and Rodeo. And I would be wrong if I said that a few things failed to measure up. For one, there was no dairy pavilion selling 25 cent cups of white and chocolate milk. And there was no butter sculpture. And there was no place to get a cheap and delicious baked potato with all the fixins. (Yes. In Idaho.)


Those few (albeit significant) disappointments excepted, we thought it was quite a fun fair. Clara was way more into the animals this year, and she spent the whole afternoon saying, "Pigs! Horses! Donkeys! Ponies! Chickens! Cows! Rabbits!" hoping we would eventually work our way BACK through all of the barn buildings. Plus, at one point Jeremy and I were talking with a vendor, and when we turned around Clara was sitting in her stroller playing with a stuffed frog toy that (we assume) some admirer had given to her in response to her magnetic cuteness and charm. When we asked her where she got it, she said, "Man give it you." Maybe this is true, but sometimes she makes up stuff, like when we go to get her out of bed in the morning and she says things like, "Man knock window" or "Pony knock window" or "Dolphin knock window." Really anyone (or no one) could be knocking on her window or giving her plush frogs. It's almost impossible to say.


So there it is. We have chosen to embrace the North Idaho Fair and Rodeo as a marginally acceptable substitute for the Great New York State Fair. Join us in taking a deep sigh of relief.

The family that weeds together

Jeremy and I spend probably too much time discussing some of the "joys" of home rentership. We really enjoy our house and feel very grateful to live in a beautiful neighborhood and to have such a breathtaking view of the mountains. Nevertheless, one of the (often literal) thorns in our side is the yard. When we rented this house, we inherited the (perhaps unecessarily) complex landscaping of the owners. And since we're getting such a smoking deal on the rent, we feel extremely motivated to keep the house and yard in tip-top shape.

Unfortunately, most of our yard work so far has become little more than a string of revelations about Things We Would Not Do in a yard. The yard is SO high maintenance and has so many different kinds of unusual flowers that have hundreds of bees and wasps in ecstasy from sunup to sundown that we feel like we can't even enjoy the benefits of having a yard.

Other than a lawn that is sprouting its share of troublesome weeds, the most irksome patch of yard is the backyard planter, which can best be described as a hodgepodge of perennials with a healthy undergrowth of weeds. Actually, after three (wo)man-hours last night, I think the planter can better be described now as just a hodgepodge of perennials. Because we rocked those weeds last night. They are now dying a slow death in our trash can, good riddance.

You can probably guess from the picture which weed was our favorite. I've been watching it grow for some time now, but I honestly assumed it was just a tall, kind of ugly flower (not a strange assumption since I can identify very few of the flowers in our yard) until I saw some growing in a field the other day and decreed that It Must Go. I know that weeds are just a social construction, but as contributing members of polite society we just couldn't let the beast keep growing. Jeremy pulled it. Jeremy is 6'2". We estimate the weed at about eight feet. I challenge any of you to find something more alarming growing in your yard (photographic evidence preferred).

Summer Cinema

In Coeur d'Alene, one of the local theaters has a free "family movie festival" every week during the summer, where they screen G and PG rated kids movies Tuesday through Thursday mornings (Syracuse did this too, so I think it's probably pretty common). I've never taken Clara, but this week they're showing "Wallace and Gromit: the Curse of the Were-Rabbit," and since Clara loves Wallace and Gromit (at least the three original shorts) I thought we'd try it.

As it turns out, Clara is still very sensitive to overstimulation (residual impact of being a preemie, perhaps--not uncommon), and we only lasted for about 20 minutes before she decided she wanted to go home and watch the "dog show" in the comfort of our living room, so that's exactly what we did. On the ride home she did spend a lot of time talking about the "rabbit moo-bee," so maybe one day she'll be ready to see something on the big screen.

Camper Clara

Jeremy and I wanted to have one last hurrah before welcoming baby boy, so in an effort to relax and put our feet up, we decided to go camping with an energetic 20-month-old. All right, we didn't really have any grand delusions that the trip would be relaxing, but it was fun--and certainly memorable. I'll admit that we were somewhat surprised at how much effort it took to keep Clara happy and safe in the wilderness, and we didn't even bother trying to keep her clean (obviously). But she seemed to really enjoy camping, so all of the effort (and two days of increased heart palpitations for poor pregnant Momma) was totally worth it.


Since the threat of preterm delivery is always looming over us, we didn't venture too far from home. But since we more or less live in the mountains, we had lots of options. We ended up at Heyburn State Park, which is essentially on the opposite side of Lake Coeur d'Alene from where we live. The campsite was great, and we had the good fortune of not having anyone camp next to us the whole time we were there! We think babies make strong camp neighbor-repellants, so I think we may always travel with booster seats and small articles of clothing, even when we don't have any babies left.


Jeremy spent most of his time entertaining Clara and taking her to the playground and on walks while I tended the base camp and tried to keep my palpitations at bay. We also took full advantage of our camp stove, and we even hauled charcoal and our Dutch oven along before we realized we forgot to bring tongs to move the coals around. (We also forgot Jeremy's tennis shoes, a hammer, and our pillows, all of which I have since added to my comprehensive camping master list.) But we couldn't have been more pleased with the beautiful weather and the pleasure of sleeping with a breathtaking view of tall white pines and a full moon. I'm already looking forward to next summer's outings!


And now, without further ado, please enjoy this video that illustrates how much Clara likes being in a tent. (A word on our gigantic tent: I bought it, much to Jeremy's skepticism, right after we got married, so for six-plus years he's had to camp with just me in a 10x14 tent. But I had an eye on the future! Who's skeptical now?)



On one final note: I am a huge admirer of beautifully photographed food blogs, so I thought I'd try my hand here. These are the "smores" we made with roasted marshmallows and Albertson's unbelievably soft and delicious new brownie cookies. You know you want one. And then, if you're like me, you'll want to detox for three days to come down from the sugary deliciousness of it all.

Happy Fourthday!

So patriotism is all well and good as a culturally accepted virtue, but can I just say that the Fourth of July is even better when there's a birthday to celebrate? We loved celebrating the Birth of our Nation with our fellow citizens, and I always get choked up watching veterans march in the parade, but I must say the highlight was celebrating 29 great years of Jeremy's life. Here's to a happy Fourth and to a happy birthday for my favorite person.

To commemorate this epic celebration, please enjoy this footage of Clara dancing to the parade. Note that her movements are somewhat restricted by her seat in the backpack and by the fact that she's clutching a soybutter and jelly sandwich with two hands. Nevertheless, she is obviously a girl who loves The Dance.

And we're back...

Well, loyal readers, it's been awhile, but I'm happy to be back with my first original post in nearly a month. We are happily settling in to our new home in the Inland Empire, and I honestly have a difficult time imagining a more wonderful place to live. We just returned from the second leg of a city park extravaganza to celebrate the opening of a new bike path between three of the city parks. Much food and fun to be had in beautiful weather. As we pulled into our garage for a pit stop before heading out for free Dutch oven dinner later this evening at the last of the three-park tour, I said, "I can't imagine living anywhere better than this!" And yes, I realize that it's difficult not to be happy in summertime weather that typically hovers around 80 degrees, and I realize that we have a long winter ahead of us, but none of this troubles me. All we've done in our marriage is slog through long winters, and I can't imagine even north Idaho gets more snow than scenic S-Y, NY!

And I will also freely admit that life seems much more rosy since my whole family is back together. I know our seven week separation was for a good cause (I've just got to carry this baby to term this time!), but I truly felt each of those 42 days away from Jeremy. Brutal. We are much happier to be settled and following each other around like lost puppies. And Clara loves having Dada back as well. If he leaves the house at all, she wanders around saying, "Dada! Dada!" until I reassure her of a swift return.

Here are a few pictures to whet your waiting whistle for the adventures and intrigue that lie ahead...