Tomorrow is the last day of June, and the twins and I will be heading up north for some cooler temperatures, greenery, and family. (Rocket Boy will come a few days later.) The drive is agonizing, no way around it, but I think we will survive. Six hours of driving, on eleventy-thousand different highways, but that's not the bad part.
The bad part is that we'll have to stop periodically to go potty. That will mean chasing the twins across parking lots, trying to keep them from grabbing candy in convenience stores, trying to keep them from leaving the restroom before I can use it too...
I wish my children were better behaved. I have come to the conclusion that it actually IS my fault that they're not. I've been falling down on the job. You cannot give up when your children are four years old and say, "oh well, that's just what they're like, naughty and willful, I'm going to go inside and read a novel." You need to stick with them, keep on correcting their behavior, don't yell, be consistent, blah blah.
A few weeks ago I was thinking about the reason that Rocket Boy and I had children. When we got together, way back when (almost 12 years ago), we discovered that we both really wanted to have children, despite our (already, back then) advanced ages. Both of us also felt that it was kind of our duty to have children -- that we had enjoyed our lives as single, childless people, but now it was time to "give back" to the world, by reproducing. (The world is probably thinking, "hey, it's all right, you didn't need to do that.") I knew that it would not be easy for me to be a mother: lazy, messy, don't like to cook, prefer curling up with a good book or website to interacting with my family. But I thought I would rise to the occasion.
STILL WAITING for that rising thing to happen.
Sometimes I think, I can't do this! I just can't! But this is your life, I tell myself. You knew it would be hard and you chose it, knowing that. You decided that you wanted to do this. It is not a bad life. Embrace it.
Yeah, yeah.
But anyway, I'm really looking forward to a break from all these serious thoughts, and especially the presence of other adult family members. I'll still be Mom, but it's easier to be Mom when there are Aunts around too. And Uncles! And Cousins! Oh, it's going to be fun. Independence Day, my birthday, we're going to the beach one day... we're going to have fun. And now I must go to bed, because I have six hours of driving to do tomorrow, not to mention all the potty stops. Think good thoughts for a little red Subaru full of Ridgecrestians!
Friday, June 29, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
Coping with summer
Summer is just barely here, so I shouldn't be complaining -- but what the heck, I will anyway. Actually, today is nice. Supposed to be a high of 93 (which means our backyard thermometer says 100, but I'm ignoring it). It's windy, but not killer windy. The twins and I even took a walk to the park this morning. Oddly, there were no other kids there. I couldn't figure out why. Did their moms think it would be too windy? Have they given up on the park until fall? Has everyone left town? Anyway, we had a nice, if a bit lonely, time.
But in a couple of days we'll be back over 100 again, and then it'll just be yucky from now until October. It seems harder to deal with this year because we're in the new house and haven't figured out the best approach. The air conditioner works well, but is very expensive. So we decided to get the swamp cooler running, even though our landlord had recommended against it. Swamp coolers are usually on the roof in this town, as are air conditioners, and this has always puzzled me, because doesn't heat rise? And so wouldn't you want the cool air to come in down below? Or does cool air sink? Anyway, our swamp cooler is on the ground, which we thought might be a good thing.
The problem is that it is not ducted -- to be ducted, it would need to go on the roof, according to our handyman, because then the ducting runs through the attic. OK, whatever. Ducting would cost $4000, roughly, and of course we are just renting, so we decided to let it blow straight through the kitchen to the rest of the house.
Here's Rocket Boy, taking apart the indoors part of the cooler:
And here's the cooler all opened up and running (though you can't tell from the photo).
It bothers me that there is a straight path into our house from the side
yard -- the cooler has cracks in it, and all sorts of creepy crawlies
can come through those cracks. Every time we turn the cooler on, we
suddenly find a gigantic cockroach nearby. At least not a gigantic
spider. Yet.
The cooler in our old house was not particularly noisy -- of course, it was on the roof -- but this one is SO LOUD. Also, it has a bad smell. The handyman told us we might want to replace the pads, which are a bit mildewed, but that might cost $150, and we're just renting, so... instead, we put vinegar on the pads. It seems to have helped a bit. But there's nothing we can do about the noise.
Boos hate the swamp cooler because of the noise and the smell, and if we run it while they're around, they cry and yell. So we just run it in the evening after they go to bed, annoying ourselves, until it gets cool enough outside to turn the cooler off and put a (much quieter) fan in the window. I have it running right now, while I'm home alone, and it's annoying me.
It's going to be a long summer.
This past weekend we went out and about, looking for places to get cool. On Saturday we checked out some Kern River campsites, but they were very crowded and not appealing. Then we drove back east past Lake Isabella and took the time to go wading.
Baby A was nervous about the cold water at first, but he gradually got used to it and then didn't want to come out. Baby B, on the other hand, did not like it and did not want to spend any time in it (here he is running away from the water).
Lake Isabella has never really felt like our style -- it's crowded with campers and speedboats. Here's someone backing into the lake to pick up a speedboat.
So I don't think this will be our refuge this year either. But yesterday we did find a new place to go swimming, and we liked it a lot.
Gosh, it sure doesn't look appealing from the outside. It looks downright slummy. Also, it's quite hard to get to, you have to meander through town to find the open gates. But once you get inside, get this, it costs $1 per person, and the pool is fabulous! Huge, and with a very large shallow section, lots of room for kids to play and get used to water. Big stairs leading down, places to hold onto. And a whole other section for people to swim laps. It's one of the best public pools I've ever seen! In Trona! Of course, it doesn't seem to be heated, and that was an issue for Baby B. But as the summer goes on, and it gets to be 115, I think we should go to this pool every weekend. Seriously! So I'm happy. Just wish the swamp cooler were a little quieter...
But in a couple of days we'll be back over 100 again, and then it'll just be yucky from now until October. It seems harder to deal with this year because we're in the new house and haven't figured out the best approach. The air conditioner works well, but is very expensive. So we decided to get the swamp cooler running, even though our landlord had recommended against it. Swamp coolers are usually on the roof in this town, as are air conditioners, and this has always puzzled me, because doesn't heat rise? And so wouldn't you want the cool air to come in down below? Or does cool air sink? Anyway, our swamp cooler is on the ground, which we thought might be a good thing.
The problem is that it is not ducted -- to be ducted, it would need to go on the roof, according to our handyman, because then the ducting runs through the attic. OK, whatever. Ducting would cost $4000, roughly, and of course we are just renting, so we decided to let it blow straight through the kitchen to the rest of the house.
Here's Rocket Boy, taking apart the indoors part of the cooler:
The cooler in our old house was not particularly noisy -- of course, it was on the roof -- but this one is SO LOUD. Also, it has a bad smell. The handyman told us we might want to replace the pads, which are a bit mildewed, but that might cost $150, and we're just renting, so... instead, we put vinegar on the pads. It seems to have helped a bit. But there's nothing we can do about the noise.
Boos hate the swamp cooler because of the noise and the smell, and if we run it while they're around, they cry and yell. So we just run it in the evening after they go to bed, annoying ourselves, until it gets cool enough outside to turn the cooler off and put a (much quieter) fan in the window. I have it running right now, while I'm home alone, and it's annoying me.
It's going to be a long summer.
This past weekend we went out and about, looking for places to get cool. On Saturday we checked out some Kern River campsites, but they were very crowded and not appealing. Then we drove back east past Lake Isabella and took the time to go wading.
Lake Isabella has never really felt like our style -- it's crowded with campers and speedboats. Here's someone backing into the lake to pick up a speedboat.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Father's Day
We had a nice-ish Father's Day. Twins slept late-ish, and when they got up I showed them the card we were giving Daddy (see photo above). I actually bought it last year, but lost it before Father's Day. I found it several months later and vowed not to lose it again this year. Such vows are of course meaningless, but by some miracle I didn't lose the card (the miracle being that I put it in my card drawer). Anyway, the card has a lot of tools on it (hammer, saw, etc.) saying "you're a great dad" in various ways, and the twins were quite taken with it. I signed their names to it, and then I wrote "To Daddy" on the envelope. "No," said Baby A, "draw Daddy."
"You mean, write it like this?" I asked, crossing out "Daddy" and writing "DADDY." They usually prefer it if I write things in all caps.
"No! DRAW Daddy!" Baby A insisted. So me with my complete lack of artistic talent had to draw a picture of Daddy on the envelope. Then we inserted the card and gave the whole thing to Daddy, who was very pleased.
We took a nice walk to the grocery store and bought the LA Times and some other things and walked home again before it got too hot (it was about 90). We had planned to go to the Ranch House Cafe in Olancha for lunch, so we got packed up and headed north on 395 for 55 miles. It was not really much cooler in Olancha, but it makes a change.
After lunch we continued driving north to Lone Pine (another 22 miles) in order to go to the Eastern Sierra Interagency Visitor Center there, which has a good bookstore, so that Rocket Boy could get a map. Yes, the same map was probably available in Ridgecrest, but what the heck, we like the Owens Valley. Also, we hoped that the twins would fall asleep, it being after lunch, but they didn't, just fought over who got to hold Daddy's card and move it in and out of its beautiful envelope.
After getting the map, we drove south back to Olancha and turned west on Sage Flat Road, which leads to the Olancha Pass trail. According to the Inyo National Forest website, the trailhead elevation is 5,790 feet "and winds steeply up the Eastern Sierra escarpment to Olancha Pass, elevation 9,220 feet." It doesn't mention that the trail is VERY dusty. I'm not totally convinced we were even ON the trail the whole time, it was so narrow and un-trail-like. More like a deer trail. Also, it was 90 degrees at the trailhead and it got windier and windier as we climbed. Let's just say I did not do well. We gave up after half an hour or so of climbing and were nowhere near Olancha Pass. I think this would be a nice trail to do in April. Of course, it might still have snow in April. Early May, perhaps? The views were impressive though (this photo shows Owens Lake in the distance):
After we gave up on the trail, we drove back down to 395 and south to Pearsonville, where we spent an hour at the weird park there. Mostly just sitting on the picnic bench or lying on the astroturf (Rocket Boy and me, anyway -- the twins played on the equipment some). My car said it was 103 when we arrived at the park and the wind was blowing something awful. The blow dryer effect.
Finally around 6 pm we left the park and drove on home. It was still about 100 degrees in Ridgecrest. I made us strawberry milkshakes for dinner and that was all we had -- everyone was just too hot. I wish I could get away with that every night.
Friday, June 15, 2012
It's getting hotter
I think we hung our outdoor thermometer too close to the patio roof in this new house, because every day it says it's at least 100, even when the NOAA website insists it's only going to get to 97.
Tomorrow the NOAA website says it's going to be 104, and then 106 on Sunday. By next Friday they're predicting 109, so that means 110 is around the corner, and then it'll be 116 and we'll REMEMBER WHY WE DON'T WANT TO LIVE HERE.
Our air conditioner works very well, but oh how we miss having a swamp cooler. Just got our electric bill and OUCH $141.54. The month before, when we only used the AC a little, the bill was $51.99. I don't want to think about what it's going to be in July, August, September. With a swamp cooler running 24/7 your electric bill might go up $5 or $10. Sigh.
We're trying to think of something to do this weekend that would be cool, but so far not much luck. Last Saturday we drove to Keough Hot Springs, just south of Bishop, to go swimming.
That was nice but it was a LONG drive (about 135 miles). We don't feel like driving a long distance this weekend. I'd drive to Bakersfield if I could think of anything cool to do there, because then we could stop at Murray Family Farms on the way back and get lots of fruit. But I can't think of anything cool to do in Bakersfield. And anyway, it's 100 miles. Sigh.
We had an unusual experience last Sunday: a Great Egret landed in a yard across the street from us and stayed there all afternoon (clearly something was wrong, maybe an injured wing). It was finally picked up by Fish & Game on Monday and taken to the zoo in Bakersfield, but we don't know whether it survived. Here it is, looking sad.
My growing things are enjoying the hot weather, at least when I remember to water them. Here's a very grimy Baby A standing next to my "terraced garden" in the front yard. I should take a new picture to show the tomato and pepper, which we've moved from the backyard to bookend these plants.
OK, here's the new picture (sorry the light is too strong, but look how the basil has grown). For some reason Baby A always has a weapon (an antenna in the top photo, a water pistol in the bottom one).
Boos are not too concerned about the heat yet. Of course they are very skinny and small. But I have noticed that they don't run outside to play so much anymore. Most of our morning activities take place in the house. We build block towers, set up train tracks.
They do a lot of imaginative play these days, although it sometimes strikes me as a little odd. Here they are, putting a train track to bed, because it's tired (you can just barely see a few bits of track sticking out from under the blankets. Ducky got to take a nap with the train track.
And now I am tired too, and must be off to bed.
Our air conditioner works very well, but oh how we miss having a swamp cooler. Just got our electric bill and OUCH $141.54. The month before, when we only used the AC a little, the bill was $51.99. I don't want to think about what it's going to be in July, August, September. With a swamp cooler running 24/7 your electric bill might go up $5 or $10. Sigh.
We're trying to think of something to do this weekend that would be cool, but so far not much luck. Last Saturday we drove to Keough Hot Springs, just south of Bishop, to go swimming.
We had an unusual experience last Sunday: a Great Egret landed in a yard across the street from us and stayed there all afternoon (clearly something was wrong, maybe an injured wing). It was finally picked up by Fish & Game on Monday and taken to the zoo in Bakersfield, but we don't know whether it survived. Here it is, looking sad.
My growing things are enjoying the hot weather, at least when I remember to water them. Here's a very grimy Baby A standing next to my "terraced garden" in the front yard. I should take a new picture to show the tomato and pepper, which we've moved from the backyard to bookend these plants.
Boos are not too concerned about the heat yet. Of course they are very skinny and small. But I have noticed that they don't run outside to play so much anymore. Most of our morning activities take place in the house. We build block towers, set up train tracks.
They do a lot of imaginative play these days, although it sometimes strikes me as a little odd. Here they are, putting a train track to bed, because it's tired (you can just barely see a few bits of track sticking out from under the blankets. Ducky got to take a nap with the train track.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Elections and eclipses
Thought I'd just post quickly about this week's special day -- Tuesday, which was both Election Day and the Transit of Venus.
I love Election Day, every Election Day. I always vote in person (I would hate to live somewhere where I had to mail in my ballot), and I always vote manually, with a pen (don't trust those electronic voting machines, nosirreebob). For this election, Rocket Boy and I had stupidly, idiotically, forgotten to re-register at our new address -- I don't know how we let that get by us, I really don't. Having four-year-old twins cannot be used as an excuse forever. And for a while I wasn't going to vote, because I thought it would be illegal. But then I found some convoluted statements on various election websites that indicated that you really could still vote, even if you'd moved. Also, moving didn't change a single thing about our registration -- we're still in the same congressional district, same everything district. All of Ridgecrest is in the same everything district. So I voted. And emerged from the polling place with my heart singing a happy song.
But in about a month we are DEFINITELY going to re-register, just so there is not a shred of confusion for the fall election.
The Transit of Venus was to become visible around 3:30 here, and I wish I'd gone right over to the Maturango Museum then, so that I could have seen the blobby dot that Venus makes when it crosses over onto the sun. But I didn't know about that yet, so I didn't go until 5 pm, when Rocket Boy got off work and picked up the twins from daycare. Then we all drove over there. The museum has a little observatory, but also several members of the local astronomy club had set up telescopes, so there were plenty of chances for everyone to view the Transit.
Amusingly, Rocket Boy and I realized that we knew at least half the people there -- all the liberals in town had come out for the viewing. Later on there were people we didn't know, looked like most of a Boy Scout troop and all that, but still.
We had a very hard time getting the boos to look through a telescope, even though they do know what Venus is. Or sort of. They've been finding Venus in the night sky since they could barely talk. "Venee" was a very early word for them. But it was really hard to explain that the star-like thing they know and love was now a black dot crawling across the surface of the sun during the daytime. So instead they ran away and played in the museum garden, which is very attractive.
After a while we decided to go eat dinner, so we went to the China Lake buffet, which is not too far away. After eating we returned, and looked through the telescopes (or didn't, in the boos' case) some more.
Of course I didn't bring my camera -- it didn't occur to me that this would be a photo op. But I have some photos taken in the museum garden about a month ago. Here are the boos (a month ago) running through the museum's labyrinth (and sorry about the smears on all the photos -- the lens has been cleaned since that day):
A little friend of theirs from daycare showed up with his grandpa, and he didn't want to look through the telescopes either, so the three little boys ran the labyrinth together. It wasn't 105 degrees, we'd had a cooling trend, but it was at least 85, and still they ran. Ran and ran and ran. Oh to be four, with boundless energy. Here's the museum garden bell, which they and other children rang obsessively:
Finally their little friend's grandpa insisted that he come look through a telescope, and of course then boos wanted to do it too. So they all looked through telescopes, again and again, until we finally got tired of it all and took them home and put them to bed.
And then of course we had the election results to obsess over, and that's always fun, though we were disappointed about what happened in Wisconsin, and as for our local elections... well, what can I say? Ridgecrest is Red. The hotly contested race was for County Supervisor -- and don't ask me what a county supervisor does, but somehow it's very important to us out here in the middle of nowhere. Anyway, 8 people were running. My guy came in 3rd and Rocket Boy's guy came in 5th, but only the top 2 move on to the fall election, so, oh well. Even more locally, Ridgecrest voted for term limits, which means all but one of the city councilmembers will have to leave at the end of their current terms. That'll be an interesting shake-up, though I'm not sure we'll still be here to witness it. Ridgecrest also voted itself a much-needed tax increase, so that's a good thing.
Anyway, it was a lovely day.
I love Election Day, every Election Day. I always vote in person (I would hate to live somewhere where I had to mail in my ballot), and I always vote manually, with a pen (don't trust those electronic voting machines, nosirreebob). For this election, Rocket Boy and I had stupidly, idiotically, forgotten to re-register at our new address -- I don't know how we let that get by us, I really don't. Having four-year-old twins cannot be used as an excuse forever. And for a while I wasn't going to vote, because I thought it would be illegal. But then I found some convoluted statements on various election websites that indicated that you really could still vote, even if you'd moved. Also, moving didn't change a single thing about our registration -- we're still in the same congressional district, same everything district. All of Ridgecrest is in the same everything district. So I voted. And emerged from the polling place with my heart singing a happy song.
But in about a month we are DEFINITELY going to re-register, just so there is not a shred of confusion for the fall election.
Amusingly, Rocket Boy and I realized that we knew at least half the people there -- all the liberals in town had come out for the viewing. Later on there were people we didn't know, looked like most of a Boy Scout troop and all that, but still.
We had a very hard time getting the boos to look through a telescope, even though they do know what Venus is. Or sort of. They've been finding Venus in the night sky since they could barely talk. "Venee" was a very early word for them. But it was really hard to explain that the star-like thing they know and love was now a black dot crawling across the surface of the sun during the daytime. So instead they ran away and played in the museum garden, which is very attractive.
After a while we decided to go eat dinner, so we went to the China Lake buffet, which is not too far away. After eating we returned, and looked through the telescopes (or didn't, in the boos' case) some more.
Of course I didn't bring my camera -- it didn't occur to me that this would be a photo op. But I have some photos taken in the museum garden about a month ago. Here are the boos (a month ago) running through the museum's labyrinth (and sorry about the smears on all the photos -- the lens has been cleaned since that day):
And then of course we had the election results to obsess over, and that's always fun, though we were disappointed about what happened in Wisconsin, and as for our local elections... well, what can I say? Ridgecrest is Red. The hotly contested race was for County Supervisor -- and don't ask me what a county supervisor does, but somehow it's very important to us out here in the middle of nowhere. Anyway, 8 people were running. My guy came in 3rd and Rocket Boy's guy came in 5th, but only the top 2 move on to the fall election, so, oh well. Even more locally, Ridgecrest voted for term limits, which means all but one of the city councilmembers will have to leave at the end of their current terms. That'll be an interesting shake-up, though I'm not sure we'll still be here to witness it. Ridgecrest also voted itself a much-needed tax increase, so that's a good thing.
Anyway, it was a lovely day.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Chimney Creek, Part 2
Here I am, back for the rest of the story of our first family camping trip.
Breakfast was a simple meal, because we had decided in advance that we didn't want to make another fire. So I had a single-serve container of Cheerios for each of us (Honey-Nut for boos), and to go with them, a container of Rice Milk (doesn't have to be refrigerated), blueberries, and grocery store mini muffins. Rocket Boy and I missed having a strong cup of tea, so I think next time we'll have a morning fire. But this was OK.
I remember camping trips when I was a kid, and morning was always a stressful time. I'm not a morning person anyway, so everything that seemed charming the night before was just unpleasant come morning: those "smelly bathrooms," getting dressed in a tent, it's always cold and there's always a bug where there shouldn't be a bug, sitting at a scratchy picnic table worrying that a spider might be crawling on your leg, and on and on.
But on this trip I felt fine in the morning. I was pleased to have survived the night, I wasn't worried about the simple breakfast, those smelly bathrooms are always less scary in the daytime, and I knew we would be going home soon. I think I may even have felt a flicker of relaxation, which I hardly thought was possible around my children.
After breakfast we took a short hike up above our campsite, just exploring the area a little more. We saw both cactus and wildflowers -- even a flowering cactus!
After a bit, I went back to the campsite and Baby B followed me, while Baby A stayed with Daddy. As I sat at the picnic table, I noticed a very large yellow butterfly fluttering around. Then it perched on a tree, probably to warm up in the sun. "Do you see that butterfly?" I asked Baby B. He did, and soon Baby A came back and he saw it too. I took a picture of it with my zoom lens:
Couldn't identify it until we got home (MUST bring bird, butterfly, flower, tree, and other such identification books next time!), but when I was able to look it up, I discovered that it was a lovely Western Tiger Swallowtail.
All the time we were messing around our campsite, we kept looking down to see what was happening at the campsite below us, where the Pacific Crest Trail people were. (We didn't speak to them, but that was obviously where they'd come from -- for one thing, they didn't have a car.) They were very quiet, as people are supposed to be in the wilderness, and in contrast to our two EXTREMELY LOUD little boos. They didn't make a fire -- my understanding is that ultralight backpackers often don't. Another PCT-er appeared from nowhere and was chatting with them ("How was your hike yesterday?" etc.).
I was so jealous. Ever since I first heard about the three long-distance trails in the U.S. (the PCT, the Appalachian Trail, and the Continental Divide Trail) I have wanted to do them -- one, two, or all three. It takes 4-6 months to do one of these trails -- and that's if you're in good shape, unlike me, and have all the right equipment, time, stamina, mental energy, etc. I could no more do one of these trails than I could fly to the moon using my arms as wings. But it's still a dream -- not a bucket list item, because that implies that I think I could actually do it -- just a dream.
Then it was time to clean up, pack up, and move on out, and once again Rocket Boy had to do most of the work (though I did pack up small items and roll sleeping bags, etc.). In a few years Baby A is going to be a huge help to him -- he would so love to do everything Daddy does -- but he's just not strong enough, big enough, or careful enough to be of much assistance yet. So Rocket Boy worked and worked, but it all got done. Here's the campsite with nothing left of the tents but one crummy, made-in-China ground cloth, and Baby A, wishing he could help fold it up.
So off we drove back to Ridgecrest -- I think it must have been around 10 am or so. The sky, which had been a very pretty blue the day before, was brown and smoggy looking. Out here that means one of two things: dust from the Owens Valley (but it hadn't been windy) or a fire. When we got home we learned about the George Fire that had started the day before in Sequoia National Forest, and I think that's what the brown air was from.
The road was pretty deserted, and it's pretty rocky, so we took it slow, always watching for wildlife. Then suddenly up ahead there was a big stick in the road -- except it wasn't a stick. "It's a snake!" I said, and then "it must be dead."
"It's not dead," Rocket Boy said, stopping the car and going out to have a look. And then I saw the snake raise its head. Sure enough, it wasn't dead. It was, however, in the middle of the road (sunning itself, waking up after the chilly night), and the next car that came along would run it over and break its spine. Thus we had to get it out of the road. But how to do that?
Rocket Boy found a couple of actual sticks (as opposed to snakes) by the road, but they weren't very long. "It's a rattlesnake," he said, coming back to the car for a moment, "but I don't see the rattle."
A rattlesnake without a rattle? But even without a rattle, it was rattling. Also, as Rocket Boy said, it hissed so much it sounded like a vacuum cleaner. Carefully, Rocket Boy waved his short sticks at it, and threw handfuls of pine needles at it. The snake reared up and tried to strike. Dancing away, RB threw more needles and one of the sticks at it. Slowly, reluctantly, the snake moved off the road.
When we got home I looked up "rattle-less rattlesnakes" on the web and found out that the snake wasn't a rattlesnake at all, it was a gopher snake (I thought the head didn't look right). Apparently gopher snakes try to imitate rattlers and are often killed for their trouble. We, of course, had been trying to SAVE the snake, regardless of its nature, but anyway, it's nice to know that Rocket Boy wasn't in any danger.
When we finally got home it was only about 11:30, but we were all so tired it might just as well have been 11:30 pm. After carrying in some of the stuff, Rocket Boy announced that he was going to take a shower, and the boys decided to go in with him. That's when we discovered that Baby A had a tick, firmly adhered to his right upper back.
Ticks, I know, should be removed As Soon As Possible, so I went running for the tweezers. But Baby A associates tweezers with splinter removal, so he ran away from me, "No! No!" We decided that he could have his shower first, and maybe the tick would be easier to get out when it was wet. (Not sure that was the right decision, but anyway...) When Baby A came out of the shower he'd calmed down a bit, and I was able to get the entire tick out with the first grab of the tweezers. It wasn't engorged with blood yet, but it was still alive (!) and wiggling, so I immediately flushed it down the toilet.
Later I read online that I should have saved the darn thing for identification and even testing, to see if it was carrying any horrible diseases. Next time, next time. From the photos on the web I have decided that it was a male Western Black Legged Tick, which is bad, because they carry Lyme Disease, but the fact that it wasn't engorged yet is good, because they usually inject their bad diseases at the end of a meal. Anyway, we rubbed the wound with alcohol and put a bandaid on it, and we'll watch it -- and Baby A -- for signs of problems. Sigh.
What a camping trip! Rocket Boy and I agree -- despite everything, it was a lot of fun and we are definitely going to do it again. Soon!
Breakfast was a simple meal, because we had decided in advance that we didn't want to make another fire. So I had a single-serve container of Cheerios for each of us (Honey-Nut for boos), and to go with them, a container of Rice Milk (doesn't have to be refrigerated), blueberries, and grocery store mini muffins. Rocket Boy and I missed having a strong cup of tea, so I think next time we'll have a morning fire. But this was OK.
After breakfast we took a short hike up above our campsite, just exploring the area a little more. We saw both cactus and wildflowers -- even a flowering cactus!
All the time we were messing around our campsite, we kept looking down to see what was happening at the campsite below us, where the Pacific Crest Trail people were. (We didn't speak to them, but that was obviously where they'd come from -- for one thing, they didn't have a car.) They were very quiet, as people are supposed to be in the wilderness, and in contrast to our two EXTREMELY LOUD little boos. They didn't make a fire -- my understanding is that ultralight backpackers often don't. Another PCT-er appeared from nowhere and was chatting with them ("How was your hike yesterday?" etc.).
I was so jealous. Ever since I first heard about the three long-distance trails in the U.S. (the PCT, the Appalachian Trail, and the Continental Divide Trail) I have wanted to do them -- one, two, or all three. It takes 4-6 months to do one of these trails -- and that's if you're in good shape, unlike me, and have all the right equipment, time, stamina, mental energy, etc. I could no more do one of these trails than I could fly to the moon using my arms as wings. But it's still a dream -- not a bucket list item, because that implies that I think I could actually do it -- just a dream.
Then it was time to clean up, pack up, and move on out, and once again Rocket Boy had to do most of the work (though I did pack up small items and roll sleeping bags, etc.). In a few years Baby A is going to be a huge help to him -- he would so love to do everything Daddy does -- but he's just not strong enough, big enough, or careful enough to be of much assistance yet. So Rocket Boy worked and worked, but it all got done. Here's the campsite with nothing left of the tents but one crummy, made-in-China ground cloth, and Baby A, wishing he could help fold it up.
The road was pretty deserted, and it's pretty rocky, so we took it slow, always watching for wildlife. Then suddenly up ahead there was a big stick in the road -- except it wasn't a stick. "It's a snake!" I said, and then "it must be dead."
"It's not dead," Rocket Boy said, stopping the car and going out to have a look. And then I saw the snake raise its head. Sure enough, it wasn't dead. It was, however, in the middle of the road (sunning itself, waking up after the chilly night), and the next car that came along would run it over and break its spine. Thus we had to get it out of the road. But how to do that?
Rocket Boy found a couple of actual sticks (as opposed to snakes) by the road, but they weren't very long. "It's a rattlesnake," he said, coming back to the car for a moment, "but I don't see the rattle."
A rattlesnake without a rattle? But even without a rattle, it was rattling. Also, as Rocket Boy said, it hissed so much it sounded like a vacuum cleaner. Carefully, Rocket Boy waved his short sticks at it, and threw handfuls of pine needles at it. The snake reared up and tried to strike. Dancing away, RB threw more needles and one of the sticks at it. Slowly, reluctantly, the snake moved off the road.
When we finally got home it was only about 11:30, but we were all so tired it might just as well have been 11:30 pm. After carrying in some of the stuff, Rocket Boy announced that he was going to take a shower, and the boys decided to go in with him. That's when we discovered that Baby A had a tick, firmly adhered to his right upper back.
Ticks, I know, should be removed As Soon As Possible, so I went running for the tweezers. But Baby A associates tweezers with splinter removal, so he ran away from me, "No! No!" We decided that he could have his shower first, and maybe the tick would be easier to get out when it was wet. (Not sure that was the right decision, but anyway...) When Baby A came out of the shower he'd calmed down a bit, and I was able to get the entire tick out with the first grab of the tweezers. It wasn't engorged with blood yet, but it was still alive (!) and wiggling, so I immediately flushed it down the toilet.
Later I read online that I should have saved the darn thing for identification and even testing, to see if it was carrying any horrible diseases. Next time, next time. From the photos on the web I have decided that it was a male Western Black Legged Tick, which is bad, because they carry Lyme Disease, but the fact that it wasn't engorged yet is good, because they usually inject their bad diseases at the end of a meal. Anyway, we rubbed the wound with alcohol and put a bandaid on it, and we'll watch it -- and Baby A -- for signs of problems. Sigh.
What a camping trip! Rocket Boy and I agree -- despite everything, it was a lot of fun and we are definitely going to do it again. Soon!
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Chimney Creek campground
When Rocket Boy and I got married, nearly 10 years ago, we received some camping gear as wedding presents: pads to put under sleeping bags, a camping first aid kit, plastic wineglasses, etc. And then we never did any camping! I wanted to, but RB (who has camped all his life) didn't, so we didn't.
One more way in which having children changes EVERYTHING. A week or two ago, Rocket Boy suddenly decided it was time to start camping with the kids. I was delighted at the idea, so we started planning. We bought a kids' size sleeping bag from the local outdoors shop, we researched local campgrounds. We thought about digging through our camping gear, but didn't. We decided that our first camping trip would be Saturday, June 2, and it would consist of one night spent at a campground fairly close to home.
Saturday morning (of course, of course) found us frantically combing the garage for our camping equipment, much of which did not surface. It may be in Boulder, it may be in a box we haven't opened yet. Who knows? Among the things we didn't find were those two nice wedding present pads and both of RB's camping stoves. But we did find 2 tents and 3 adult size sleeping bags (which was fortunate since the outdoors shop didn't have another kids' size sleeping bag -- they have to order it) and various other items. We threw whatever we could find into the back of Rocket Boy's Ford Escape, bought some VERY simple food, added a bag of charcoal and a couple of gallons of water, and we were off.
We drove first to the Walker Pass campground, which is only about 25 miles from here.
I should have mentioned that it was beastly hot in Ridgecrest on Saturday, something like 105 when we left the house around 3 pm. It was cooler at Walker Pass campground (note: the pass itself is called Walker's Pass -- don't know why the campground loses the apostrophe-s), but not THAT cool, and there's very little shade. Plus, to our surprise, most of the campsites were occupied. We walked around them and talked to a guy sitting at one picnic table -- and he explained what was up. Walker Pass campground is pretty much right on the Pacific Crest Trail (you know, the trail that goes from Mexico to Canada?), and hikers often stop at the campground just to take a few hours break. The man we talked to was about to start hiking again, so he said we could have his campsite. But we were concerned about how many people might be staying the night, and how noisy the twins are. We decided to keep going, into the Chimney Peak Recreation Area.
We didn't go all the way to Kennedy Meadows, which is famous as a Ridgecrestian refuge from the heat. Instead we went to the Chimney Creek campground at 5700 ft elevation, which (like Walker Pass) is managed by the BLM, is free, and has no water. Unlike Walker Pass campground, it is very out of the way (though still only about 40 miles from our house).
By the time we got to Chimney Creek, it was after 5 pm, so we needed to get busy and choose a campsite. We had our pick -- none of the 9 sites we could find was occupied (the campground supposedly has 32 campsites, but I don't know where the other 23 were hiding). First we chose a big campsite, high up close to a bunch of rocks, but then I started thinking about what was going to climb down from those rocks during the night, and we moved to a small cozy campsite lower down, away from the rocks, a very short walk from what the twins call a "smelly bathroom," and close enough to the road to see it but not be run over by cars who miss the turn. We only saw 2 or 3 cars on the road the whole time we were there, but you never know.
The campsite was long and skinny: firepit, picnic table, area to pitch a tent, and place to park car, all in a row. We had brought two 2-person tents, and we put them up with the openings facing each other, about a foot apart. Here we are watching Daddy start to put up the second tent (firepit is behind the picnic table):
and here we are looking the other direction, toward the car:
Daddy worked very very hard putting up the tents, and then he started the fire (I've just got to learn how to do some of these things; maybe next camping trip). When the coals had stopped flaming, we put the hot dogs on to cook.
This was my dinner menu: one package of 7 all-beef kosher hot dogs, one package of buns, a can of baked beans (which we didn't bother opening), water to drink, and of course marshmallows. Hey, don't knock it, it worked. We also brought chips, pretzels, and grapes, which we munched during the tent assembly process, so no one but Rocket Boy was very hungry for dinner. The twins each ate most of a hot dog, I had two, and Rocket Boy had three. Then we roasted marshmallows over the coals. At first the marshmallows weren't cooking, but then we moved the grate and they got nice and brown -- to Baby B's horror. "I don't want a brown one!" he cried. My efforts to convince him that roasted marshmallows are supposed to be brown were for naught. I ate that one and he ate a plain uncooked white one.
While we were eating, a few other campers showed up -- on foot. It turned out that this campground was also just off the Pacific Crest Trail, though not as popular as Walker Pass.
After eating we had just enough time to take a walk down the quiet road, where there were wildflowers, bunnies, and lots of birds. I had forgotten my binoculars, but I could tell some of the birds were interesting. There was a beauty with an orange and yellow head, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. As night fell, we realized the moon was almost full.
Then it was time to get ready for bed, and that's when things got amusing. We decided that Baby B and I would sleep in the blue & white tent close to the car and Baby A and Rocket Boy would sleep in the orange tent close to the picnic table. Here you can see both tents, right before bedtime:
I got both boos into their diapers and pajamas in the blue & white tent, and read them 2 stories with a little headlamp strapped to my forehead (boos were jealous). I had brought books about camping and the outdoors, and in one book there was a drawing of the bird we had just seen -- a Western Tanager! Then I sent Baby A back over to the orange tent to sleep with Daddy. Boos are used to sleeping together, not with their parents, so they were concerned about this. But I just wasn't comfortable having them in a tent with no parents, even though the parents would be a foot away. We were in bear country, after all.
Rocket Boy and I had taken our melatonin, we were ready for sleep (at 9 pm!). I haven't been sleeping well in the Ridgecrest heat, and of course Rocket Boy had done all the work of putting up the tents and everything.... we were tired! But boos just couldn't settle down. After a bit Baby A decided he was going to sleep in the big tent with Mommy and Baby B, so he and his sleeping bag crossed over to our tent and we squished together to accommodate him. But it was really a squish. "Do you really want to sleep here with us?" I asked Baby A and he said no, he wanted to sleep with Daddy. So back to Daddy's tent he and his sleeping bag went. Baby B said that he would sleep with Daddy too, but I said no he wouldn't. So no more sleeping bags moved.
I kept tucking Baby B into his sleeping bag, with his favorite blanket and his favorite stuffed toy, Ducky, and then a few moments later he'd pop out again. I decided to tell him a story (rather than read another one, which would have required a light). "Once upon a time," I said, "when I was a little girl, I went on a camping trip with my Daddy and my Mommy and my little sister -- and that was Nonny."
"Oh!" Baby B said. "Nonny's house is near Baba's house!"
"Yes," I said, "but this was a long time ago, and I lived near Baba too, and Nonny and I lived in the same house."
This was too much for Baby B. "Mommy? Can you tell a story about Ducky?"
I'm flexible. I decided to tell a story about going to the duckpond when I was a kid. "Once upon a time when I was a little girl..."
"No! Tell a story about Ducky!"
No problem, I can do that. "Once upon a time when Ducky was a little duck..."
"No! Ducky was not a little duck! Ducky was always the same size. He was born and he grew up and he stopped growing. And then I loved him."
This was so sweet that Baby B and I both laughed together and I hugged him. But he didn't go to sleep. At one point he got out of his sleeping bag and announced that he was going to go outside and look for "creatures." "NO!" I shouted, grabbing him. "You will stay right here and go to sleep!" But a moment later he popped up again.
At some point we both finally fell asleep, and the occupants of the other tent did as well. I know this because later on something caused me to wake up. I was just conscious of being conscious -- and then, through the thin wall of the tent I saw the car flash its brakelights! And it made a soft whirring noise!
I looked at my watch -- it was midnight. It was midnight and we were at a campsite a million miles away from civilization, with two darling small children, and someone was in our car -- which we had left unlocked. Someone was stealing my money, credit cards, and perhaps even the car. And then they would come and kill us. I tried to find my car keys, which I knew were in the tent somewhere, but couldn't find them. (Not sure what I was going to do with them -- maybe lock the thief into the car?) Baby B was sound asleep, lying next to the tent opening. I leaned over him and hissed in the direction of the other tent to try to wake up Rocket Boy, but there was no response.
I was terrified. What could I do? Should I scream? (wake up the kids, disturb the other campers, annoy whoever was stealing my wallet -- maybe they would come out of the car with a knife or a gun) Put on my shoes (if I could find them), crawl awkwardly over Baby B, and go out and investigate? What if it was a bear? I kept calling softly to Rocket Boy. Why didn't the man wake up? Then I found my flashlight, so I pointed it at the car. Maybe if the person in the car realized that someone was awake, they would go away. Sure enough, I heard more noises. A car door opened. "Who's there?" I said, in a really mean, loud voice.
"It's me!" It was Rocket Boy. Of course. He had been unable to sleep in the cramped little tent, so had gotten up to walk around and then tried to sleep in the car.
I was so relieved that I was not even mad at him. But then it was hard to get back to sleep (especially with the moon shining full into the tent).
Later, I did fall asleep, but it got cold in the tent and I kept waking up.
Let's just say that at 6 am when the sun woke me up for good, I was pretty tired. Rocket Boy was even worse off -- he'd hardly slept a wink. But as I looked over at Baby B, snoozing soundly in his sleeping bag, I was a proud and happy mom.
This is getting long, so I'll go to bed (I'm so tired!) and tell the rest of the story tomorrow.
One more way in which having children changes EVERYTHING. A week or two ago, Rocket Boy suddenly decided it was time to start camping with the kids. I was delighted at the idea, so we started planning. We bought a kids' size sleeping bag from the local outdoors shop, we researched local campgrounds. We thought about digging through our camping gear, but didn't. We decided that our first camping trip would be Saturday, June 2, and it would consist of one night spent at a campground fairly close to home.
Saturday morning (of course, of course) found us frantically combing the garage for our camping equipment, much of which did not surface. It may be in Boulder, it may be in a box we haven't opened yet. Who knows? Among the things we didn't find were those two nice wedding present pads and both of RB's camping stoves. But we did find 2 tents and 3 adult size sleeping bags (which was fortunate since the outdoors shop didn't have another kids' size sleeping bag -- they have to order it) and various other items. We threw whatever we could find into the back of Rocket Boy's Ford Escape, bought some VERY simple food, added a bag of charcoal and a couple of gallons of water, and we were off.
We drove first to the Walker Pass campground, which is only about 25 miles from here.
The campsite was long and skinny: firepit, picnic table, area to pitch a tent, and place to park car, all in a row. We had brought two 2-person tents, and we put them up with the openings facing each other, about a foot apart. Here we are watching Daddy start to put up the second tent (firepit is behind the picnic table):
This was my dinner menu: one package of 7 all-beef kosher hot dogs, one package of buns, a can of baked beans (which we didn't bother opening), water to drink, and of course marshmallows. Hey, don't knock it, it worked. We also brought chips, pretzels, and grapes, which we munched during the tent assembly process, so no one but Rocket Boy was very hungry for dinner. The twins each ate most of a hot dog, I had two, and Rocket Boy had three. Then we roasted marshmallows over the coals. At first the marshmallows weren't cooking, but then we moved the grate and they got nice and brown -- to Baby B's horror. "I don't want a brown one!" he cried. My efforts to convince him that roasted marshmallows are supposed to be brown were for naught. I ate that one and he ate a plain uncooked white one.
While we were eating, a few other campers showed up -- on foot. It turned out that this campground was also just off the Pacific Crest Trail, though not as popular as Walker Pass.
After eating we had just enough time to take a walk down the quiet road, where there were wildflowers, bunnies, and lots of birds. I had forgotten my binoculars, but I could tell some of the birds were interesting. There was a beauty with an orange and yellow head, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. As night fell, we realized the moon was almost full.
Then it was time to get ready for bed, and that's when things got amusing. We decided that Baby B and I would sleep in the blue & white tent close to the car and Baby A and Rocket Boy would sleep in the orange tent close to the picnic table. Here you can see both tents, right before bedtime:
Rocket Boy and I had taken our melatonin, we were ready for sleep (at 9 pm!). I haven't been sleeping well in the Ridgecrest heat, and of course Rocket Boy had done all the work of putting up the tents and everything.... we were tired! But boos just couldn't settle down. After a bit Baby A decided he was going to sleep in the big tent with Mommy and Baby B, so he and his sleeping bag crossed over to our tent and we squished together to accommodate him. But it was really a squish. "Do you really want to sleep here with us?" I asked Baby A and he said no, he wanted to sleep with Daddy. So back to Daddy's tent he and his sleeping bag went. Baby B said that he would sleep with Daddy too, but I said no he wouldn't. So no more sleeping bags moved.
I kept tucking Baby B into his sleeping bag, with his favorite blanket and his favorite stuffed toy, Ducky, and then a few moments later he'd pop out again. I decided to tell him a story (rather than read another one, which would have required a light). "Once upon a time," I said, "when I was a little girl, I went on a camping trip with my Daddy and my Mommy and my little sister -- and that was Nonny."
"Oh!" Baby B said. "Nonny's house is near Baba's house!"
"Yes," I said, "but this was a long time ago, and I lived near Baba too, and Nonny and I lived in the same house."
This was too much for Baby B. "Mommy? Can you tell a story about Ducky?"
I'm flexible. I decided to tell a story about going to the duckpond when I was a kid. "Once upon a time when I was a little girl..."
"No! Tell a story about Ducky!"
No problem, I can do that. "Once upon a time when Ducky was a little duck..."
"No! Ducky was not a little duck! Ducky was always the same size. He was born and he grew up and he stopped growing. And then I loved him."
This was so sweet that Baby B and I both laughed together and I hugged him. But he didn't go to sleep. At one point he got out of his sleeping bag and announced that he was going to go outside and look for "creatures." "NO!" I shouted, grabbing him. "You will stay right here and go to sleep!" But a moment later he popped up again.
At some point we both finally fell asleep, and the occupants of the other tent did as well. I know this because later on something caused me to wake up. I was just conscious of being conscious -- and then, through the thin wall of the tent I saw the car flash its brakelights! And it made a soft whirring noise!
I looked at my watch -- it was midnight. It was midnight and we were at a campsite a million miles away from civilization, with two darling small children, and someone was in our car -- which we had left unlocked. Someone was stealing my money, credit cards, and perhaps even the car. And then they would come and kill us. I tried to find my car keys, which I knew were in the tent somewhere, but couldn't find them. (Not sure what I was going to do with them -- maybe lock the thief into the car?) Baby B was sound asleep, lying next to the tent opening. I leaned over him and hissed in the direction of the other tent to try to wake up Rocket Boy, but there was no response.
I was terrified. What could I do? Should I scream? (wake up the kids, disturb the other campers, annoy whoever was stealing my wallet -- maybe they would come out of the car with a knife or a gun) Put on my shoes (if I could find them), crawl awkwardly over Baby B, and go out and investigate? What if it was a bear? I kept calling softly to Rocket Boy. Why didn't the man wake up? Then I found my flashlight, so I pointed it at the car. Maybe if the person in the car realized that someone was awake, they would go away. Sure enough, I heard more noises. A car door opened. "Who's there?" I said, in a really mean, loud voice.
"It's me!" It was Rocket Boy. Of course. He had been unable to sleep in the cramped little tent, so had gotten up to walk around and then tried to sleep in the car.
I was so relieved that I was not even mad at him. But then it was hard to get back to sleep (especially with the moon shining full into the tent).
Later, I did fall asleep, but it got cold in the tent and I kept waking up.
Let's just say that at 6 am when the sun woke me up for good, I was pretty tired. Rocket Boy was even worse off -- he'd hardly slept a wink. But as I looked over at Baby B, snoozing soundly in his sleeping bag, I was a proud and happy mom.
This is getting long, so I'll go to bed (I'm so tired!) and tell the rest of the story tomorrow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)