Traditions

If you've been reading this blog for more than a year, you know that we don't celebrate Halloween in the traditional manner. We don't have neighbors to speak of, so going door to door for candy is a hassle. A few years ago, together with the Farmboy's sister and her family, we started a new tradition that has made our kids completely over-the-moon-happy.

It starts as you would expect, with costumes.

If I thought my girl's costume choice was great last year, then this year was the most incredible, proud-Mom worthy costume of all time. Laura Ingalls, complete with braids, a basket for gathering eggs, and some old school books. Be still my beating heart. The eleven year old couldn't decide on a specific character, but fell in love with a couple of plastic things from Goodwill, and therefore became Gladiator Warrior Guy.

And that is where the similarities to a traditional Halloween celebration stop. This being our Fifth Annual Halloween Flashlight Easter Egg Hunt and Pinata Party, it now feels totally normal and we have to remind ourselves that this isn't the way it's supposed to be. But we shrug our shoulders and carry on, because our way is amazing and fun and memorable in all the best ways. I hope my kids carry on with this tradition when they have kids, because that would be a true parenting success. :D

Gladiator Warrior Guy and Laura Ingalls were happy to find Pokemon Storm Trooper and Fashion Diva at their Aunt and Uncle's house when we arrived. The weather wasn't rainy for the first time in a couple of years, so the egg hunt ranged all over the dark yard, with the pinata strike zone safely held under the porch roof where there was plenty of light and a concrete floor for easy scooping up of candy.

But the highlight this year was probably the addition of watching Thriller. What we thought was a music video, the one we remember from our teen years, was actually the full version, including a young Michael transforming into a werewolf, much to the horror of our poor children, who thought we were intentionally giving them nightmares. I don't think I've laughed that hard in a really, really long time.

Summer Break: Week Ten

Ah... at last... breathing room.

Monday marked the (almost) end of a very long project; dropping that stack of boxes off at the Post Office was about the happiest moment I could have wanted.

The remainder of the week held many delights: A day of going to town just for the sake of doing so, Jamba Juice smoothies, the first harvest of Acorn Squash from the garden, the discovery that Clearly Canadian is back on the market! (hello 1990, I've missed you), RAIN (if just for one morning), a quiet afternoon sit on the nearly-finished back deck (stay tuned for a deck renovation post), a Wednesday night free of obligation so that we could return to one of our Summer favorites; Sandy Summer Sounds (live music in the town park). Now THIS is what Summer is all about.

(SIGH) is it really almost over? 

Summer Break: Week Nine

Mostly spent cleaning up and recovering from Twistapalooza, but also spent up to my neck in a rather large and somewhat complicated club order (which I will blog about in the near future). But there were some photograph-able highlights as well, including a visit from a family of Bobwhite Quail, haircuts for the Girl and I, and trying to watch the Perseid Meteor Shower with cousins (we saw TWO! : the clouds rolled in and blocked the rest).

Also: I managed to revisit an old talent from the past and in the process made my children think I was pretty much the coolest Mom ever...

Twistapalooza III

My mental planning started the day after our event ended last year. Even when I was distracted by life and work, there was always a little something brewing on the backburner. I don't exactly know why I love planning this gathering so much. It's actually pretty overwhelming in reality, when the day rolls around, with so many people that I want to connect with that I end up buzzing around on an adrenaline high all day, and get rather exhausted in the process. But I do love it dearly, and hope that it becomes a tradition, not just for my family, but for the others that come as well.

This year, with the addition of flower beds that were actually weeded, and some lovely lighting that the Farmboy designed and put in place, our place was looking rather more beautiful than usual. We did a trial run the night before, lighting all of the tiki torches and candle lanterns and string lights. I found it a little difficult to get to sleep with all of the excitement in the air...

The morning of... when I put on my custom shirt for the first time, I almost squealed with delight. This logo came to me in the middle of winter, while stirring a pot of stew. It started as a pencil sketch, which was then turned into perfectly formed digital art by a friend, who happens to be a very talented graphic designer (check his web site out here). Somehow things feel much more official-like when there's a graphic tee involved.

We added a portable toilet this year, to help keep traffic in the house at a minimum. I took the liberty of adding my own sign (please forgive me American Sani-Can, but I like my signs better than yours).

My growing collection of thrifted dishes and linens got their yearly airing (still not going with the paper products, my dear Farmboy), the grills were kept smoking and sizzling, with the generous help of good friends, and the potluck table was nearly sway-backed with yummy food brought from homes all over the Portland area.

With a combination of people from the Farmboy's work, our local community, church, members from both sides of our family, and even two brave souls that drove all the way from Las Vegas and camped for a few nights on our property, it was fun to see people that we didn't know knew each other have a mini-reunion right there in our front yard. I really never got to settle down for very long, but the murmur of voices was steady, with kids flitting about, running around in a big gang, and there was so much laughter.

Our crowd was a bit more subdued than last year during the musical performances (a little older? a little less alcohol? weather a bit too hot?), so I'm determined to specially choose some people to come next year that will actually get up and do some dancing. I never realized just how much a performer feeds off of the response of the audience, and I certainly felt the reserved nature of this group. Not that they didn't enjoy themselves; I could see plenty of smiles and feet tapping going on, with a few timely call-outs from certain people that brought laughter and smiles.

My band, The Hipocryts worked super hard in the months and weeks leading up to this event, adding new songs and making the old set better. My bandmates even convinced me to sing a solo, which is never my favorite thing to do; I much prefer adding harmonies. But I did it. And I'm actually glad;  a person should never get too old to try new things.

When it came time to get up there though, our inexperience with performing really showed. Why oh why can't we sound as good in front of people as we do when we're practicing? The crowd was very kind and complimented us on our improvement over last year, which I guess is a good thing. Somehow I felt that maybe they were just being nice. But that's the perfectionist in me speaking, I'm sure. We're going to try to find some local open mic nights to test some audiences that don't know us personally. That ought to be a good indicator of our likability and should also help us to smooth out some of the rough edges.

We did get a thumbs up from the main musician, Chris Stewart. And I have proof right here. So we must have done something right.

I caught up with one of my young nephews after we finished and asked him if he liked our songs. He is the one that is so painfully shy and reserved that he rarely does more than grunt to people that aren't in his immediate family circle. Per usual, I received a grunt and a shrug. But later, my little brother (his Dad) told me that the same little guy said at one point during our performance that he couldn't believe his older brother had gone to play and was "missing out on all of this... this... this... greatness!". And if that was the only compliment I received all evening, it would be enough.

Chris Stewart continues to improve his musical style and set. This guy practically oozes music. Two years ago, it was just him and one guitar. Last year he added a second guitar and had a friend play some hand drums on a few songs. This year? He sat on a cajon (drum box), which he played with a foot pedal while also picking his guitar and singing and jingling a tambourine with the other foot. The iconic one-man-band. And it was good.

My parents came again this year (many of the photos here were taken by my Dad), and they said they really enjoyed it, all except for a few songs (yes, there may have been some swearing and/or questionable content involved in said songs). I think that's a pretty good testimony of the range of audience this guy can entertain.

My Mama and me.

I'm sad for it to be over for another year. Wondering if people will want to come back again next year. Already planning ways to tweak the event to make it better, more fun, more inviting than ever before. Counting down to 2018. Let me know if you want to come!

The day after...

One family of good friends that live in the city camped out next to the couple from Las Vegas (we do live in a quite lovely place, so camping on our property was bound to happen at some point). They shared a morning cup of coffee with us before heading home. This scene made me happy. Three guys that collapsed in their Twistapalooza shirts the night before. 

And perhaps my favorite bit of remnant that I cleaned up the day after... my band's set... taped to the top of a bar stool.