Happy Trails...Mostly

I'm belated in posting in regards to our trip to my parents' home a little over a week ago. We had such a great, albeit short, stay with them. My parents currently reside in Silverton, ID, but are moving to Colorado in a few months. Being a measly five-hour drive away, the kids and I felt it important to pay them at least one more visit before they fled the area. (FYI: Wallace, ID, the nearest town to Silverton with indoor plumbing and a population of more than single digits, was at one time the brothel capital of the U.S. and also boasts a fine looking sewer cover in an obscure intersection that some drunk mayor deemed to be "The Center of the Universe." No lie. There's official signage to prove it.)

So the kids and I took a long weekend and enjoyed some quality grandparent time. A small aside here: I know I've mentioned before my love for road trips. It's true. There's something completely liberating about getting behind the wheel and driving yourself nearly out of gas, filling up and doing it all over again. Complete with some Abba, Sting and a few exceptional conference talks, I can spend hours in my head just zoning out. Not to say that I neglect my kids in the car. I love the "shoot the bull" quality there is to being stuck together that long. And I love the headphones that accompany our portable DVD player. :)

We enjoyed our stay, and in due course, my ever-productive father announced he was taking the kids and I on a 15-mile bike ride down the Hiawatha Trail, which runs across the Idaho/Montana border. We loaded up and hit the road. The trail began with an almost 2-mile long train tunnel that required bike lights (which we'd rented) and some manufactured body heat, as the tunnel pentrated the innards of a sizeable mountain.

My older three plus Gramps took off ahead (with the unspoken promise we'd meet up at the end of the tunnel), leaving Kalli and I in cold, nearly pitch black confines. Kalli, being a just-barely six-year-old, immediately took to whining. "I'm cold," "I'm scared," and "I want to go home," echoed repeatedly throughout the tunnel. Anyone who knows my fourth child knows that trying to distract or persuade her is something akin to a naked mole rat giving birth to a manatee. She refused to ride the bike in the dark and was moving at the speed of lard.

Trying to be optomistic and patient, I cajoled, bribed, begged and pleaded her through that increasingly cold tunnel. Here's where truth-telling gets painful. By roughly the halfway mark, I started to get a little mean. Yes, its true. Shocking, I know. :) I started to employ scare tactics and even once casually commented that I was going to ride on ahead and meet her at the end. Oh the sorrow that ensued. But guess what? She got on that bike and she rode her little tail out of that tunnel!

Grandpa somehow coaxed Kalli out of her bad mood once we lef the tunnel and the rest of the ride was wonderful. Oh. Except for the part where Grandpa endoed on his bike and reopened several wounds from a previous endo the week before. We love that Grandpa gets back on the bike and tries, tries again. :)

We finished the day off with a feast at the Pizza Factory in Wallace, which also touts their taco salad. Except that when Grandma (who met us at the restaurant) ordered the taco salad, there were a lot of confused expressions among the prepubescent crew members. Sadly, the taco salad showed up at the table about the time we were licking the last of the pizza grease off our fingers.

We also swam at the local pool, watched lots of Olympics and, of course, played the game "Snapshots Across America" several times. Siblings, you know the one.

Thanks to Grandma and Grandpa for a wonderful visit, grass stained peds and all (see below)! Love you- Mara

Kalli see-sawing with Grandpa.

The boys taking a relaxing break in the shadow of an outhouse.

Tucker and his too-small-bike. We need to get him a new bike, but only ever think about buying a new bike when we're actually riding bikes. And we never ride bikes to stores where they sell bikes. Thus, he remains on his too-small-bike.

Kids and Grandpa at the mouth of the first tunnel. Did I mention there was something like 18 tunnels on this trail? If you get through the first impossibly long one, the rest are cheese...

Flashes are beautiful things. See Kalli ride? Yes! She's actually peddling!

Kate bein' cute.
The trail also sported several crazy-high bridges, which aggravated my acrophobia, but I managed to hold it together.

Kate thought it was pretty funny that I was worn out by the end. This is my "lizard on a rock" impression. Minus the grossly long tongue.

Because I was feeling bad about Grandpa's biking accident, I mowed his big ol' backyard. In my bare feet. Which was a great idea, I thought, until my mom and her friend caught sight of the bottoms of my feet and turned green themselves. It took a good week to get back to my natural foot color. :)

Peace out.