Memorial Mayhem

Our friends the Wongs took us to Memorial Day festivities at the Naval Postgraduate School on Monday. Jonah, Noah and Ace had a great time terrorizing the echo-y hallways of the old building. I really don't remember how, exactly, I got them to idle their motors long enough to pose for this picture. I think the events which transpired during the 15 minutes it took for us to get through the building and out into the open field have been catalogued in my repressed memory files. Raising Ace is a wacky whirlwind... and an undeniable privilege. I'll miss it when it's over.

The Smiths

The Monterey peninsula is home to the Naval Postgraduate School and the Defense Language Institute, which means we have a really large military population here. I'd venture to bet that close to 50% of the young families in our church body are military. So most of Arich's, Ace's and my friends are from military families. What I wasn't prepared for when we moved here is that military families LEAVE... inevitably, always. So if you're not here with the military, you're destined to get regularly abandoned by people you care about. No one tells you that when you sign up. *sigh*

The Smiths, above, returned to S. Cal last week. Left to right is Mindy, Jake, Samantha and Josh. Please keep this awesome family in your prayers. In a few weeks Josh leaves for one more tour in Baghdad.

Miss you, Mindy! And Ace says he really misses Jake!

Uncle Josh's Big Catch

This was little brother Josh's (AKA Uncle Josh's) biggest and only catch of the day. I don't think banana slugs are good eatin', big guy.

A Momentous Occasion

For the men in my family, fishing is not a sport. It's an integral part of life, like, say... eating... breathing... or cell meiosis. My dad and brothers know every lure, stinky bait, fishing line weight, water depth, water and air temperature, water and air visibility, every wind direction, humidity percentage, season, mating behavior, and gravitational pull of the moon, which might, in some way, affect whether the fish will bite. And the relevance of all these factors, of course, depends on the species of fish. They know them all, including their subtypes and which ones are "good eatin'" or not.

Long story short: Ace was born at 2:04 a.m.. By 10 that morning, "Grampy Doug" (my dad) was in the hospital room, bearing the perfunctory diapers and cute baby shoes, and a brand new kid-sized fishing pole and tackle box, which Ace used to catch his first fish on Saturday. This is big stuff. It was only a tiny little bluegill (the bass were spawning and the trout were in deep water due to the heat), but it was a real live fishie caught at Loch Leven lake in the presence of Grampy Doug, Uncle Josh, Dad and Mom. A most momentous occasion. Watch the video, and feel the power.

Syb

Sayonara Feedburner.

If all goes well, this will be the last subscription post you guys'll get in your email boxes. I'm just not feelin' the love for this subscription thing. First of all, it seems way more like an email and way less like a blog. Second, I don't know if you folks have tried to respond directly to a posting, but it's impossible, so we never get feedback. I need feedback. I love feedback. So as soon as I'm done with this post I'll head over to Feedburner to remove it from the blog. I've found a way better way to keep everyone updated. I'll send out an email soon with the details.
Syb :)

Like I Said...

Yesterday while I was working on the post about Ace's and his Dad's Norseman tendencies, Ace was rummaging through the snow drawer, looking for a hat and gloves. The Nerf ball is (you guessed it) a snowball. I'm telling you, it's in the blood.
Syb

Polar Bears?

It was only minutes following the apartment manager's announcement of "open season" at the pool last week before these guys were immersed. Never mind the 45 degree ocean air and the on-shore wind. It's gotta be the Norse blood. As a former student of anthropology, my theory is these two would be much better adapted to a life spent skirting the edges of Norwegian fjords, swords raised and beards frozen, always ready to conquer something or other.

This Vegas-raised American mutt will stick to the lounge chair... at least until things reach around 50 degrees or so. Today was warm, so maybe tomorrow. Did I say warm? Whoa. Am I going native? It was about 79 in the sun, with the ever-present slight bite to the wind. Not warm. Ah well... at least I still know how to drive over 35 mph, so there's still a bit of So.Cal left in this girl. ;)
Syb

*Sigh*

I love these two guys.

THUNDER!!!

"ThunderStix" were the highlight of Tuesday's post Bible study playgroup. As you can see in the pic, the kids had a great time safely brutalizing one another for a good hour straight. (Yes, I know the pic is terribly un-dynamic, but what can I say?) Deborah Flores is the cool mom responsible for bringing the sticks, which are really just a couple of pieces of plastic molded together with a self-sealing spout. You blow them up, and, viola! Thunder! I think they were some kind of promotional item from a convention the Flores family attended, and there happened to be a bunch of them left over. There's a hearty sort of sound when you bang one stick against another. But the kids seemed to prefer banging the sticks against other kids' heads, which, curiously, did somehow create a more interesting sound.

Until next time,

Syb