We ditched our cable subscription a year ago because a)we weren’t watching it and b)too much money for 10 shopping channels, a half dozen Spanish language channels, and CSPAN.

Yesterday, on a trip to the Home Depot, we bought ourselves a $16 antenna. We didn’t have much hope that it would, you know, actually DO anything.

BUT IT DID.

Oh, glorious day! WE HAVE OPB AGAIN.

Like, three different CHANNELS of OPB!

Henry is currently beside himself since he can watch Sesame Street and Ruff Ruffman. Like, seriously, you would think you just told that kid that a unicorn named Leonard moved into his room and wants to be his best friend.

James is cautiously optimistic about the chance to watch football. I put “cautiously” in there because the Hubs wants to dance around singing “Are You Ready For Some Football” in a half-shirt in between quarters.

Emma and I are squealing about all the cooking and travel shows that are on all these channels. I love, LURVE cooking shows. I could and do watch them all day. It is a problem for me and I have accepted that I have a problem and LOOK THERE IS A SHOW ABOUT BAKING BREAD SHUT UP.

So yes, happy times at the RedHeadMama household.

Ahem.

Suffice it to say that we found the light sabers this weekend. AND LO, THERE WAS MUCH DUELING.

(Images are somewhat not great because I was the only one in the house without a light saber, and I was hiding behind the couch like a big baby so as not to get “accidentally” whacked upside the head.)

(It’s happened before, the whacking.)

Insert primal scream here.

Full thrusters, Mr. Sulu. ENGAGE.

(Wrong movie, but somehow works.)

I did have to lay down some ground rules about using your light saber appropriately, i.e., no poking in eyes, no overly ferocious battering, etc. Also, using your “force powers” to knock your sister in the head with a pillow is allowed, as long as the pillow doesn’t have an exposed zipper so you get that nasty scrape in the eye thing going on. Otherwise, I continued to cower behind the couch while they did their thing:

Look at mah babies, beating the snot out of each other with plastic toys! >>wipes away a tear<<< I’M SO PROUD!

First, thank you for being so nice and welcoming and generally just super warm, cuddly, lovable people. I bet you could tell we were all kind of nervous and didn’t know what to expect.Thanks for making us so comfortable.

I do have a couple of things to apologize for, though. You probably know what I’m talking about.

The Farting. Okay, so Henry had a little bit of a gas issue and decided to share it with all of us, even though we couldn’t really tell that anything was happening. He needed to let us know. Plus, everytime I had, uh, a little “disturbance” (I’m guessing it’s due to the MASSIVE amounts of cantaloupe I’ve been eating this week; seriously, I have a problem), Henry would ask me loudly “DID YOU JUST FART MOMMY!?”.  Why, yes, Son, yes I did, and in fact, it’s so wonderfully tactful for you to point that out! And to pinch your nose and wave your hand in front of your face! HA HA HA!!

The Flashing. I’m pretty sure that hospital people have seen enough naked to get them through this life to the next and then some.  And generally, it’s probably not Happy Fun Naked, it’s probably Somewhat Disturbing Naked. So they are good with accidentally seeing some “kibbles and bits” if it happens to present itself. However, the Hubs really felt the need to flash me WHILST IN THE OPERATING ROOM or at least in the pre-operating room (see how fast I’m picking up the jingo here? I am a medical superstar), which made it awkward to say the LEAST when nurses and doctors and various other upstanding citizens are in the room and he was  all “hey baby, like mah gown? Wanna get up here on the bed for a little bow chicka wow wow?”

So, we’re sorry. Actually, more embarrassed than sorry, but whatever. Again, thank you for taking such a good care of us, and no offense, but we hope to never see you again (and I say that in the nicest possible way).

Hugs -

The RedHeadMama Family

P.S. I am sorry for “accidentally” taking one of your magazines home.

P.P.S. I’m also sorry that the spilled Jello didn’t quite get cleaned up real well. I tried.

We had a family celebration with my godparents at their house, which was MUCH better than my idea of fun on the Fourth: lying around in a food coma until 10 PM or so and then jumping up and lighting a few sparklers. There was going to be steak, and potato salad, and watermelon, and pie, and cake, and PIE!!!

Also, legal explosives that I ACTUALLY LET MY CHILDREN DETONATE. Most days, this would get me a strict talking-to from some sort of authority figures; but on the Fourth of July, everyone turns a blind eye! It’s a win-win!

First, let’s take a look at Fireworks Central. This is the staging area, aka Where the Magic Happens.

Look at my sweet little princess, about to blow something up. >>wipes away a tear<< I’m so proud!

Okay, so APPARENTLY, unless you’re like half of my town and obtained illegal fireworks, you get piddly little displays like the following:

Spinning around doesn’t hide the fact that you just aren’t that impressive, my friend. Although your cousin, this guy?

THIS guy spun a little, then started hopping wildly all over the place. I stood up, letting my cat-like reflexes take over, ready for flight should the worst happen, but luckily for me I was spared what was probably going to be an agonizing experience.

I don’t know why everyone laughed at me. I WAS READY FOR ACTION.

We did get some more exciting fireworks:

Whoo hoo!

Yeah, baby! Feeling patriotic now!

Rockets red GLARE, homies!

This one, not so much on the impressive side of things, but I felt sorry for it because it REALLY TRIED. Actually, wait. I don’t feel sorry for this one. This one was one of those screecher fireworks, the one where it feels like the dentist is drilling out a molar with circa 1970′s equipment? And you’re going to explode into pain-ridden flames at any moment? That one. I wonder what a dentist thinks of when he (or she) fires off one of these babies: “Ah, that brings back such good memories! Drilling into teeth and saving the world, one cavity at a time!” while all the rest of us are cringing in agony singing “Hey Jude” under our breath and clutching Mr. Snuggly Bear.

Grand Finale!

Ahhhh. Oohhhhh. Ehhhhhhh. Gluuuuurrrrrbbbb. Nothing like celebrating your country’s freedom than with a few carefully timed detonations!

Anywhodles, Father’s Day commenced AT ITS CORRECT TIME last weekend (ahem), with much hugging and presents, including one of those waffle makers that flips all the way around. On our trip to Idaho this last spring break we had one in the hotel lobby and Dean pretty much lost it every morning: “You GUYS. Did you see that waffle maker? IT FLIPS AROUND. And it cooks waffles perfectly. Oh. My. Sweet. Lord.” Of course he broke it within five minutes of even getting it out of the box (!), but we knew that Target would be forgiving and so headed out to the beach for some fun in the sun. I mean, fun in the drizzle and fog. Here we go:

Lovely flowers, which I was sorely tempted to pick, but did not. Self-control, don’t you know.

Taken from the north end of Cannon Beach. I know it looks all dreary and gloomy, but I prefer it that way actually: less tourists, and less need to wear my awful sunglasses that turn everything a garish orange and honestly, do more harm than good (note to self: buy new sunglasses).

I just loved this little house. You can get away with colors like that on the coast.

Ahoy, matey! We have Haystack Rock. This is one of like a bajillion pictures I took of this rock, so count yourself lucky that you’re only going to see a few hundred. (Kidding) (Kind of) (Here we go with the parentheses again)

That’s Tillamook Head and the lighthouse, well, it USED to be a lighthouse, now it’s a columbarium (sp?), where really wealthy people can get their ashes lightly sprinkled onto the heads of myriad seagulls.

And the shoes are off. It was like, what, 30 seconds after we got there? Obligatory mom yammer of “don’t get too wet” and “don’t go in too far” and he was gone.

Other three are taking a little bit more time.

Daddy walking purposefully towards his destination. Actually, I think he might have just tooted and was being polite by walking away.

Let’s just get one thing straight. That water? IS COLD. And Mom is not getting in, no matter how cute you’re being when you’re asking her.

These two are inseparable. I love it.

Playing “chicken” with the waves coming in. Insert blood-curdling screams here and you’ll pretty much get the feel of the moment.

James is more dignified about dodging the waves, as befits his now sophomore in high school status.

Okay, so here’s Harley, our huge wuss-dog, gazing at me mournfully while standing in what, like a millimeter of water? He is not a fan of anything wet, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t try to push him in there lead him gently into the tender lapping ocean, where it would give him a doggy hug.

Doesn’t matter how subtle you try to be, Harley and Water are just not happening.

See what I mean?

James could’ve told you that. But you probably wouldn’t have understood him over his teeth chattering, since he “forgot” to wear a pesky, non-cool sweatshirt, and is now covered with goosebumps and the beginnings of frostbite.

“Come to me, mighty ocean!” That’s what Henry was probably saying.

Back on the sand, where he belongs. Wuss.

“What’s that you said, ocean? You want to take me to the Nintendo headquarters and let me have anything I want?” That’s probably what Henry WISHED the ocean was saying.

That’s a bald eagle, but you probably can’t tell. Shoot, I could tell you it was a pterodactyl, and you’d have to believe me! Right? You’d believe me?

This was our view for lunchtime. I know, it was tough. Sigh.

Just look at that water. Almost makes you want to jump in until you realize that it’s probably -30 degrees.

As you can see from this surprisingly non-nude array of photos, we had a great time. Our family loves Cannon Beach, and we’re always guaranteed to have a good time there.

Terry the Turtle attempts to drop the kids off at the pool

Terry the Turtle takes in a little bit of nourishment

Dean: I’m going to bring some barbecue sauce on the walk.

Emma: Why Daddy?

Dean: You ever heard of the Donner Party?

Me: Uhhh…..

Emma: What’s the Donner Party, Mommy?

Me: (glaring at Dean) Well, it’s this group of pioneers that traveled across the Rockies and got caught in the mountains in the winter, and they had to….uh…..well, they got really hungry and there was nothing to eat, and -

Dean: THEY STARTED EATING EACH OTHER!!! HA HA HA HA!!!!

Emma: What? WHAT?

Me: He’s just kidding, honey.

Dean: PASS ME ANOTHER HUNK OF CO-PILOT!!!! HA HA HA!!!

Emma: Mom?

Me: I’m sorry, honey.

1) Cafeteria benches are hard and make your butt fall asleep, which makes it fun and/or horribly, blindingly painful to stand up after two and a half hours of Oregon history-related entertainment.
2) OMG HOW MUCH HISTORY CAN WE REALISTICALLY EXPECT TO SEE HERE MAH BUTT IS FROZEN IN TIME AND I THINK SPINAL CORD HAZ FUSED.

I took pictures (of course). Here we go:

Entrance, TA DA.

Getting ready for the next act. Having vague fantasies of this actually being a Broadway production of “Phantom of the Opera”.

O HAI, I BE NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. No, not Dynamite. Although I am dynamite. In a personality-related sort of way.

Look, it’s Lewis and Clark, discussing the pregnancy of Sacagawea. OF COURSE.

Here are Sacagawea and Charbonneau, her husband, who turned out to be kind of a misogynist, since he was peeved his wife got more attention than he did. And a better outfit.

I can’t remember who this guy was supposed to be, but he was apparently super tall and did something with beavers.

Cowboys, trying to look manly and ending up just being so cute that you just want to pinch their widdle cheeks and go “WHO’S a big cowboy? WHO is it?”

Folks, this is a giant bull, or maybe a minotaur. I’m going with minotaur.

Square dance! Allemande left! Please don’t fall off the stage!

Sad prairie women are sad. They do not have help from their menfolks. They do a lot of work. They wear bonnets.

Yar, there be the flag of Oregon. Hang it from the mizzenmast and strike the colors, because this be a play about Oregon history and…….pirates are not included DAMMIT.

We are singing about red stuff, as you can see from our red shirts. Red roses, I think. Or rivers of blood. Either way, we look cute.

Flannel shirts, woolen hats, and a BIG ASS SAW. Sounds like a typical Saturday night at my house. BA BAM!

HA HA play is still going, you thought it was done WE WILL NEVER BE DONE YOU ARE DOOMED

At this point I was reconciled to my body actually merging into the walls of the cafeteria, much like the poor souls in Davy Jones’ locker in Pirates of the Caribbean 3.

Eventually the play DID end, all was well, and we went home and collapsed into the loving embrace of the Big Couch, where we sat and watched Matrix:Reloaded for the 24th time. Emma did FANTASTICALLY well, and I about burst my buttons with pride at how lovely she was. Check it out:

On the way.

Yes, we are walking on piles of dirt.

That would be Mt. Rainier. I kept watching it out of the corner of my eye, waiting for it go all Mt. St. Helens on me. Paranoid? No, just WELL-PREPARED.

Friends since they were 11. Oh, the stories we could tell! And will! But not right now.

Henry is walking, walking, walking.

STILL walking. Where the heck is this mystical pile of dirt?

Emma starting to think there's something to be said for sitting down and playing Scrabble. Or maybe that's me. Either way, she's getting tired of all this walking.

FINALLY here, and climbing hill. James has been humbled by the 3 year old who scrambled up this hill in .02 seconds.

Yeah, I don't think I'm climbing up there.

Henry makes his way around the Mountain Of Fun, scoping out the best route.

James still working on getting to the top. I cheered him on from the bottom. Thought about throwing little pebbles at him, not gonna lie.

Okay, MAYBE I'm climbing up, and maybe I'm just sitting here looking cute.

HENRY IS ON TOP OF THE HILL. Behold his above-average hill-climbing skillz, peeps!

Frog. Surprisingly, did NOT look like the nattily dressed Frog from the classic Frog and Toad adventures. No plaid wool vest? I call foul.

Yeah. This kid is like, what, 2? 3? He was embarrassing all of us with his ability to scoot up this hill with like, Spiderman powers. Or something. Aquaman? No, that's not right.

Of course, I had the requisite moment of crippling embarrassment since I slid spread-eagle into a deceptively smooth little plain of mud that smelled like cow manure. Thankfully, I did NOT fall, but I sure did look awkward. Fun!

Of course, we got to play with the baby. James especially liked that baby:

This is Baby Lance.

I just met you, but I love you.

I'd like to feel your teeth. You're okay with that, right?

What - there's a TONGUE in there too? I am a happy baby.

Green plastic bowl goes WHACK in the face. Fun!

I'm tired of these antics and shall move on to the next thing now.

Or not. HELLO EYEBALLS. Meet my finger.

I shall endeavor to look cute now. And I shall succeed. WILDLY.

You got purty hair. (What little of there is of it.)

Baby on the loose! Watch out!

And now the student has become the master. Or something.

Ishnt he the schweetest widdle baby in de WOILD?!?!?!?

Babies. They just kind of make everyone go a little nuts, don’t they?