Stewardship

The Fire Direction crew had a pleasant weekend vacationing along the Coast, staying at the Steward's House on the grounds of Fort Columbia, one of the rivermouth defenses I talked about during our discussion of the "Battle of Clatsop Plains" back in June.

The weather - always a consideration when traveling with children, let alone vacations in general - was perfect; bright and breezy. The kiddos loved the beach, Mojo loved the quiet charm of the former Coast Artillery post, and I enjoyed the chance to just drift. No work, no news, nothing to pull me this way or that.

Well, except the children.

Those of you who are parents will know that there is no such thing as "placid" where kiddos get involved. My daughter in particular is a viciously early riser - "We're the light sleepers, Daddy...mommy and the Boy are heavy sleepers!" the Girl crowed as we shared a bath together at 6 a.m.

No, I'm not kidding. Such is modern childrearing, at least around here and now.

I'm sure if I had turned up alongside my father's bed in the pre-dawn hours and reminded him that he'd promised to tub with me he would have told me in no uncertain terms to piss off back to bed.

I got up and ran the tub. Some things change in forty years.

Still, we all loved playing on the strand, and the huge kites at Long Beach, Washington, where we stumbled into something called the "kite festival". I had made sure to bring some beach agates, acquired at the local rock shop, to salt the beach near Cape Disappointment so that the Girl could find her treasured agates. The Boy did surprisingly well for a couple of days without videogames. Mojo slept late, read, walked, and relaxed.

It was altogether fine.

Oh - and before I get off the subject, let me recommend the little "Columbian Cafe" to you. If you're ever in Astoria around suppertime, I thoroughly recommend you try this place; the freshest of local seafoods and pastas, all prepared in the master's unique style.

My Dungeness-crab-in-lemon-caper-linguine was to die for, is all I'm sayin'. Go and try it.

But no sooner had we returned to Portland than Mojo and the kiddos packed and flew off to New England to visit the Gellar grandparents, leaving me to batch it alone in the Fire Direction Center.

And my work took the opportunity to load me down with a pantsload of things to do. I've been getting home at seven or eight each night, and, foolishly, I assumed that I'd have acres of time with the family away to finally refinish the bedroom floor.

Sheeyeah.

Anyway, that's going apace, but it's been a damn busy week so far and I've had little opportunity for posting, even though I've been eaten up with frustration watching and reading the accounts of the carnival of mendacity that had been this season's GOP convention.

But that's another post entirely.