(Note from Katie: the image quality on Blogger seems to have gone down, so if you would like to see the full-size, sharper image, click on the pictures below.)
This year may not have been Alton's first Halloween, but it was the first time he went trick-or-treating! To refresh your memory about what we did last year, it was dinner at home with the Lee family, much larger crowds at the front door than we were expecting, and my final vow that when Alton began trick-or-treating, he would thank people! (You might want to click over to last year's post just to refresh your memory about the cute, cute little chubby cheekers that Altie was sporting back then. Awww.)
Alton is currently very taken with anything that "goes": planes, trucks, trains, cars, boats, buses, helicopters...you name it. So besides planning to select his Halloween costume from something in this genre, I also wanted to find something for him to wear that was real clothes and comfortable; I saw too many uncomfortable 2-year-olds last year in itchy, hot zip-up polyester suits to think that Alton would keep anything like that on for very long. So when we found the train conductor outfit on sale, we felt like we hit the jackpot!
Cutest little conductor ever! The hat definitely makes the outfit. We had a busy Halloween weekend planned: family party in the afternoon at Andy's work on Friday, party for the toddler playgroup on Saturday morning, and then Halloween night--whoo! The Genentech fete would be our inaugural wearing of the costume, so we got everything together the night before. With Alton set as the train conductor, we decided that Andy could also don overalls and bandanna to be the train brakeman, and I would be a passenger, but with a 1940s twist. I hit a small snag in the matter of Alton's hat. Although his costume included a hat along the train conductor theme, Alton felt that it would be more comfortable to wear one of his old summer baseball caps, which is navy blue and has a picture of a boat on it. When he spots this hat, he alternately shouts, "Hat! Boat!" in excitement. I went to get his train conductor hat from the closet, but he saw the boat hat and grabbed it, thrusting it defiantly on his head and shaking his dome from side to side when I proffered the costume hat.
I grabbed both hats and got us to the party, then did a very skillful bait-and-switch with Alton so that he would think the boat hat was on his head, but really I put the train hat on. It worked...he kept the train hat on for awhile before he took it off, but by the end he was so used to it that he wore it almost all day Saturday. Success!
The work party was fun, but most of the activities were geared for older kids, so after Alton had made some rounds in his costume we headed home to rest up for Halloween--the big day.
We were a whirlwind of activity on Saturday morning getting ready for our playgroup Halloween party. Food was pot-luck, but with a dozen kids and their parents expected, we needed to do some furniture shifting in order to make room for everyone. We did a little decorating and Andy had spent some time creating a pumpkin-shaped beanbag toss game, too! He thoughtfully took some pictures before everyone arrived so that you could see the before (Sheets covering couches look spooky AND prevent frosting smears!)
...and after! (Katie in the 1940s cap is at stage left. I put on a black dress, pearls, and gloves, but knew that my outfit would be much more authentic if I had a hat on. I found a website online with pictures of vintage accessory sewing patterns, found some fabric and trimming that I already had, "winged it" on a hat design in imitation of one of the pictures, and voila! It felt very What Would Louise Do.)
Alton thoughtfully demonstrates the beanbag toss that Andy created.
Alton, *J and *E contemplate the beanbags in the bucket.
Buzz Lightyear to the rescue!
The party was a hit and everyone had a great time showing off their costumes and "practicing" their Trick-or-Treating skills by going up to me and saying their piece for a piece of candy.
After nap, it was on to the Groeners, where in addition to hanging out with our Pacific Northwest cousins, we got a chance to see Auntie Kay and Gina, who were visiting for the weekend! We got all caught up, admired Matt's portrait of Abraham Lincoln done in pennies (3,111 of them, to be exact)...
...and changed Alton into his Halloween costume for a photo session with Matt's camera before heading out to the Lee's house.
Chris and Elizabeth and their family live about 30 min away from us in a city called Newberg, a community with some more rural neighborhoods than Hillsboro, including the street on which they live. The Lees had our trick-or-treating territory all picked out: a cul-de-sac across the street from them with half a dozen large, affluent-looking homes that were reputed to hand out full-size candy bars! We convened first at their house for the two recruits to eat their dinner (here's Alton cooking it, below)...
...and to make sure that their Baby *F was primed and ready for maximum cuteness--done!
(Hey, if people offered him candy, we weren't going to refuse.)
We set off down the road at sunset with kids in tow and Andy snapping away with his camera. Alton the Conductor led the way, followed by *B the chunky monkey!
The first house we passed had a goat pen on their property facing the road, with some vocal billies telling us just what they thought about us trespassing on their land. Here you see Alton's reaction:
Adorably, Alton and *B insisted on holding hands for most of our excursion, which was darling despite the fact that it made walking awkward for Elizabeth and me!
We arrived at our first house, with our two little be-costumed revelers looking expectantly, if somewhat puzzledly, at the door.
The nice lady gives us candy, and...
...and what?! Back up a second. We knocked on her door, gawped up at her with our sweet round little faces, and she gives us candy? For that? Yessss!!! Better pull it out of the bag before she realizes what she's done and takes it back.
And of course, we did tell Alton to say "thank you" at every house he visited. Despite the fact that he was still stunned at the whole concept of walking around in the dark, knocking on strange people's doors, and receiving colorful foil-wrapped items in his pumpkin bag, he was able to pull himself together and tell each homeowner "thank you"! We proceeded on to the next handful of houses on the block (Noting for future years' reference that one of the big houses does a haunted house! Complete with skeletons, eerie lights, and the teenage daughters of the house traipsing ghoulishly around the grounds [yes, the grounds] dressed as brides of death.) and found that indeed, everyone was giving out full-size candy bars. I tried to subtly encourage Alton toward the peanut M&Ms instead of the Skittles, but he was of his own mind when it came to selecting his bounty. He became so blasé that by the last house we went to, he tried to pilfer two Heath bars while the woman was engaged in conversation with Elizabeth and me. What a charmer.
We headed back to the Lee's house before it got too late, where the kids played with *B's toys while the adults ate pizza and pored over the candy haul. We got exactly two trick-or-treaters: a pair of seventeen-year-old boys who might not have been dressed up. We weren't sure. The train conductor saw the babydolls safely home, and then donned his jammies for the warm, dark car ride home.
Knowing that a neighborhood like ours could expect trick-or-treaters numbering in the hundreds, we thoughtfully had put Minerva upstairs in our bedroom so that she didn't get agitated by persistent knockers on our front door, turned out all the lights, and for good vibes' sake placed a Gladware container full of Tootsie Roll Midgees on our doormat before we left. The Tootsie Rolls were all gone when we got home, of course, but my earlier impression of the callousness of costumed kids softened when I saw that the Gladware container was still there on the porch, and not embedded in our newel post under some smashed rotten eggs and a carved oath of "Midgees?!?!" Who knows, maybe next year we'll even hang around for the little doorbell ringers. But for this year, we had a fun time, a warm and comfy costume, a worthy hoard of goodies, and great friends. What could be better? Happy Halloween!
I was checking settings on the video camera the other day first thing in the morning while Alton meandered around the living room in his pajamas. In this way, I managed to capture him on film giving me a priceless look as he got "busted"! You can just see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he knows that he isn't supposed to be doing what he's doing, debates internally whether he can "cute" his way into getting what he wants by giving me a very arresting smile, ascertains that charm is not going to work and instead decides to go with bravado, the winning cuteness replaced by a confident, level gaze that says, "I know I am supposed to be here, but are you?" In the end, I win the staring contest and he listens to his mama. This time.
Andy has been juggling some big projects at work for the last few weeks, and needed to put in many extra hours at work to get the job done. Cell phone ringing all evening, going in on the weekends, some late nights, some early mornings, and some late nights that turned into early mornings...this guy needs a break! And Alton and I were definitely aching for some daddy time. So after settling his work tasks down, Andy took this past Monday and Tuesday off of work to give our fam a luxurious long weekend. After assessing our wealth of days off, we decided to loaf around the house on Saturday and Sunday (plus we had a big event to attend on Sunday--Alton's friend *B's 2nd birthday party!) and use Mon/Tue for a minibreak holiday to the Oregon Coast! "Staycation" is out and relaxation is in! We knew that extra days at home would just have us shifting our eyes guiltily back and forth, trying to ignore how much we needed to vacuum. And clean the bathrooms. And organize the garage. And did you call that guy about getting the windshield replaced? Huh. Exactly.
Monday morning is Alton's "Music Together" class, so we planned to leave for the coast after that. But where to go? We have only been out there two other times: once to Tillamook (the cheese factory) and the Cape Meares lighthouse, and once to Cannon Beach (one of the little touristy beach towns). Newport, Ore. boasts a big snazzy aquarium, but was a few hours farther than we wanted to drive for a 24-hr road trip. Our choices seemed to boil down to Astoria and Seaside. Astoria definitely had the Goonies charm going for it, but since "Seaside" is the title of this post, I guess you know we elected to go there. Just an hour from our house, nice paved promenade on the beach for walking, little touristy shops, and apparently the oldest aquarium on the West Coast! Sounds like a winner. We found a dog-friendly hotel online, packed up the car and headed west.
Before visiting the Oregon Coast, I remembered hearing raves about its beauty and wasn't really sure what to expect. I mean, I'm from California; we kind of already "do" beaches there. The Oregon coast isn't beachy in that respect. It's misty and foggy and the air is very damp and moist, and the seacoast is full of these incredible craggy rocks and little mountains covered in evergreens that seem to grow right up to the edge of the water. Yes, there are plenty of places with sand and playgrounds and families building castles and people playing frisbee with their dogs, but the draw lies much more in the sight of those huge trees silhouetted against the grey skies. We actually had fair, sunny weather with only a little bit of marine layer, not much wind, and temps probably mid to high 60s, so Alton wore long pants and sleeves, but we didn't need coats (although of course we had to have Alton wear a hat...here he is with the debut of Mommy's latest knitted creation!).
Alton has only been to the beach one other time in his recollection: this past summer at Avila Beach. The texture of the sand, interesting rocks, and motion of the waves were all fascinating to him!
In the video below, you can see the little guy enjoying the view of the surf, walking backwards (which he does in imitation of Andy, stepping ahead of Alton to take pictures), and doing his awesome crazy run. There are a lot of high knees, flailing arms, and cute little shrieks.
Seaside consists of one main drag off of the beach promenade, which is home to all of the shops and cafes appealing to tourists. There are three or four candy stores, a handful of ice cream shops, a smattering of clothing and crazy beach trinket stores, a few random places selling objets d'art, and of course several toy stores. After our beach exploration we popped into one of the ice cream places to get a couple of waffle cones with Alton-friendly flavors for the three of us to share (Yes, the THREE of us. Minerva got none.) and a spoon to make it easier for Alton to taste his share.
After a short demonstration of how to lick the ice cream cone, Alton caught on to this more fun method of eating the cold stuff and happily poked his tongue into the melting Cookie Dough.
With Daddy taking pictures and Mommy operating the video camera, Alton was only too glad to commandeer the cone for his own personal enjoyment--it was very hard to convince him to share it with us after that!
The beach shops up and down the Main Street all bore evidence to their brisk summer trade. Many places were making repairs or painting in their relaxed off-season, and a few places were even closed, with a sign on the door saying "See you next year!" I looked up and down the street, imagining the throngs of sunburnt tourists that must mill all over the streets and in and out of shops during the summer, and the posted signage definitely painted a picture of what that chaos must look like. The ice cream store where we purchased Alton's melting treat was tiny, but had no fewer than a dozen signs that said "Cash Only" posted about; clearly the place was used to being mobbed by distracted, sunglasses-sporting folks who were way more focused on choosing their flavor than on a discreet cash register notation, so overstating the "no credit card" policy was the way to go. Farther down the street, I marveled at how busy the summer must be for local businesses based on friendly service to be so...well...rude! Another ice cream shop prominently displayed a printed sign in the window saying, "No outside food. If you didn't buy it here, you can't eat it here. You can't bring it in. Even if other people buy ice cream." So the sign could certainly be considered curt by most, but compared to the rest of Oregon, a state whose collective sunny demeanor has been admired by my family since we moved here, this sign is a verbal slap in the face. I'm glad that we didn't have the opportunity to meet this sourpuss owner, since that business was closed for the season.
After the ice cream snack, we retired to our hotel room. We had luckily gotten a suite so that Alton didn't need to sleep in the same room as Andy and me. This is nice for us, since Alton goes to bed at 7pm and it means that we can stay up a little later, but Alton also sleeps better through the night in his own room; if he wakes up and sees us sleeping only inches away from him, he finds it very hard to go back to sleep! So we spread out in the hotel room; put sodas in the small fridge, set up Minerva's water dish, put Alton's bag of toys and books within easy reach. When traveling, I prefer to unpack, get organized, and "settle" as much as I can in my accommodations for a night or two (or more). I have an area for toiletries, one for dirty clothes, and even bring hangers with me to make use of closet space if there isn't a dresser handy. I'm not sure why I have this preference...is it just part of my drive for order in my life? A vestige from a past job when I used to travel a lot and wanted to make hotels feel more "homey"? Not sure. What about you? Do you prefer to unpack when traveling, or just grab things from your suitcase as needed? (Poll at right!)
We opened up the "local guide" binder at the hotel and flipped through the pages looking for a place to go for dinner. Most of the pages were three-hole-punched restaurant menus or reviews that had obviously been printed at home. None as obvious as a place called Dundee's--at least, we would sincerely hope that a professional printing press would have stopped the Dundee's proprietor from placing the words "Kid Friendly" under this picture!
Most of the businesses in Seaside seem to want to really emphasize that they cater to families--which makes sense in a beach vacation town--but this definitely seemed like one business that probably could re-think just how much they want kids to be eating there. We elected to go to a place called Taste of Tuscany, which Andy had spotted when we exited the freeway. What it might have lacked in Italian culinary authenticity (Okay, I know that I'm a harsh critic, but their antipasto platter came with colby cheddar and Keebler crackers!), it made up for in great service, a relaxing atmosphere, and admiration of Alton, how well he ate, and of his general cuteness. Here he is perusing the menu.
We had a leisurely meal before retiring home to put baby to bed, watch a DVD, and catch some Zzzs before Day 2 at the beach!
Well, speaking of knitted creations, here is Alton posing in his "letterman sweater," a sweater I knitted for him this past spring with a blue body and white/blue heathered sleeves, which gives the impression of a high school letterman jacket. He gets compliments every time he wears it, which I accept wholeheartedly!
The next day we woke up and grabbed breakfast at the Pig 'n Pancake (Heh. Yes, that's what it's called.) before taking in some more beach walking. The mountainous coast in the background...
...and the happy family enjoying their trip!
Alton "hanging out" on the promenade.
Peeking at Daddy with the camera.
One of the attractions that we'd planned to take in at Seaside was the aquarium, which at 70 years old claims to be the oldest on the whole west coast. The big draw of the aquarium is the "feed the seals" exhibit, of which you see evidence as soon as you enter the aquarium. A door off the beach promenade is open directly opposite a small ticket booth, where you pay your admission fee and squeeze through the turnstile directly adjacent to the SPLASH ZONE. A small sign reading "Seal Food. $1.00" sits in the booth window, and to your left is a narrow walkway that borders a tank with the seals in it. At least five or six seals in a tank that appeared to be about the size of the baby pool that Alton swims in; I was getting claustrophobic. Many of you might not know that I have a pretty hard time seeing wild animals in captivity--I am not a fan of zoos for this reason and had been deliberately avoiding places like that for a number of years. Lately I have been working to overcome this dislike for Alton's sake; the Portland Zoo is a pretty nice one, and I didn't want his mom's phobia to impact him adversely. I feel pretty comfortable there now for the most part, but the tiny seal tank of smallness at the Seaside Aquarium was another story. We didn't linger at that exhibit in the aquarium, although this was admittedly due in part to me not wanting our drive home to reek of stale fishy water after Alton got splashed by the seals in the tank. Anyway, we moved on into the main section of the aquarium, which was a room about 30 foot square with tanks lining the wall in single file with signs above and below them telling what kind of fish they contained. Kinda looked like a Petco, but without the fluorescent lights. Despite the exorbitant adult entry fee ($15 for the two of us!), the aquarium was perfect for Alton's current age, since gazing at fish swimming back and forth can occupy and entertain for much longer than it would take the rest of us to scan the sign listing the types of fish, glance at them, and move on. The aquarium also had a small touch tank with sea anemones, starfish, and urchins all cringing as far to the edges and under rocks as they could. Even still, Alton was able to pet a couple of anemones and starfish before we availed ourselves of the hand washing station and went back to the main street of Seaside.
Another of Seaside's tourist attractions is the Carousel. It too has some historical significance (which I don't remember), and also has the advantage of being covered, in a small indoor strip mall aptly named "Carousel Mall." There are a couple of hallways' worth of little shops off of the carousel in the center of the mall like spokes on a wheel. We paid Alton's admission to the carnie and mounted the giraffe, which was one of the few animals on the carousel that didn't go up and down. This was the carnie's suggestion, which I was glad to have taken because I didn't realize that this old carousel went really fast! The whirling motion was enough for Alton, and he spent most of the ride with a slightly open mouth gaping at his surroundings as they whisked by. He seemed to enjoy himself--when our ride stopped and I was unbuckling him, he said both "all done" and "more" to me!
We began walking back to the hotel to collect our things and get ready to drive home. Alton appreciated the chance to rest his legs by riding on Daddy's shoulders, and used his extra energy to point out all of the starfish decorations that adorned the lampposts in town: "Tar...tar...tar!"
An hour's drive later and we were home. Despite the fact that Hillsboro is the extreme westernmost city in the Portland metro area and the coast is a solid 50 miles away, there is not much in the way of towns on this drive. A few tiny roads with fruit/veggie stands or gas stations, and a couple of hamlets that you breeze through in less than a minute, but the majority of this drive is just an achingly beautiful view of trees, trees, trees. Thickly forested landscapes grow right up to the edge of the freeway, and miles of evergreens are interspersed with oak and maple (and other tree names that I don't know) that are currently ablaze with fall colors, in every hue of the red spectrum from auburn to crimson to pumpkin to a white-hot, highlighter yellow. The colors are gorgeous, and for many long stretches you can look to either side of the highway and see nothing but bare trunks, where the trees are so tall that the branches don't start on the tree until much higher than the roof of your car. You get the feeling that you are trekking through the mountains, but the roadsigns will inform you that you are at an elevation of only 500 ft! I had plenty of time to admire this natural beauty as I drove while Alton, Minerva, and Andy slept off their sandy seacoast fun. We stopped for lunch and then landed at home, where Alton gathered up his "things" and happily stretched out on Minerva's bed. Looks like she gets to find a new place to sleep.
My posts are getting fewer and farther between now that autumn has hit, and I think it's because of the chill in the air. The cold weather has me wanting to spend my evenings tucked up with a hot dinner, a good book and my knitting. Sometimes all three at once, but don't worry, folks, I am a professional after having eschewed my amateur status following the '04 EatKnitRead Olympics. I am mostly going through my "stash" of yarn and trying to envision new projects that I can create out of the things I already have (Mostly baby garments; they are so addicting! They take very little yarn, very little time, and I can put animal ears on them. Love it!). Except for that one skein....
But in addition to curling up with soup, needles and thick socks, fall means trips to the farms! Living in Oregonian suburbia that butts up next to Willamette Valley farmlands, we have berry picking in the summer, apple farms and pumpkin patches in the fall, and after Thanksgiving there are more Christmas tree farms than you could shake a stick at (which you wouldn't, because your stick is actually a fragrant pine bough from one of these farms). Last weekend Alton, Andy and I took advantage of clear, sunny skies and hit the apple farm.
The pictures of Alton at this apple farm are hilarious. If you have ever spent any time with the young squire, you know that he has a very studious look to him. He spends a great deal of time in contemplation, taking in his surroundings, and prefers to explore a new thing thoroughly with his eyes before making physical contact. Andy and I have each burst into laughter at the sight of the other parent reading to Alton, because when he is sitting in your lap you can't see the furrowed brow and intense look of concentration he gets when he is scrutinizing the book in your hands. He peruses every picture and word on the page, appearing to memorize their positionings while simultaneously absorbing the narrative you are reading aloud. He looks like he's performing surgery.
The apple farm was definitely a place worthy of Alton's focused gaze. Swarms of children flew over the property, partaking in haybale mazes, face painting, and a giant jumpy house in the shape of an apple while Alton waited soberly at the edge of the field, taking careful note of everything around him. He stood carefully with Daddy at the pigpen, watching the little oinkers snort around in their straw and scarf down food.
He took time to inspect the tractor pulling the wagon we rode around on, and took in every acre of the farm on the trip around the property.
If you take his studious gaze to be one of fear, concern, or dislike, however, you would be mistaken. He simply likes to take it all in carefully before he heads off to enjoy himself unfettered. He inspected the haybale maze with Daddy, then blithely took off at the entrance to complete the entire route by himself.
The wagon rides were unlimited, so we went around for a second trip, with Alton all the while excitedly calling out "Dack-dor!" (tractor). We had to wait awhile on the wagon for our turn because we were the only "customers" at first, so Alton had a blast inspecting the bed of the entire thing and climbing up and down from the benches inside.
By the end of our morning at the farm, Alton had thoroughly enjoyed himself. He made repeated beelines for the pigpen to say hello to the cute, big-eared little sows, adorably chirping "Piddie! Piddie!" at them. He had mastered the haybale maze and given a hearty smack to almost every pumpkin in the nearby cluster. It took great powers of distraction to dissuade him from a third tractor (dack-dor) ride, and indeed from spending the whole rest of the day in total tractor worship and contemplation, like the devotees of yore.
We returned home with a small cache of farm apples (our shortness of cash unfortunately dictated the size of our cache) and that afternoon I made a pie, leaving three of the apples for our (Alton's) consumption. The next day I planned to make pasta with meatballs for dinner, and a quick glance at the clock told me that if I wanted the sauce to be finished with its requisite two hours of cooking time according to Nonna's recipe, I would need to get started soon! With an apple slice in each hand, Alton happily relaxed into his high chair, which was dragged into the middle of the kitchen while I did my sauce prep. I began mincing garlic and dicing onion, only to figuratively strike my forehead in frustrated forgetfulness (try saying that five times fast). In the last few months I have switched from being a full-time contact lens wearer to glasses around the clock, and I can never remember that without my lenses in, slicing onions actually hurts! With contacts in, I could hack away on the cutting board as long as I liked, with no stinging, watery eyes to interfere with my work. But now with glasses I have to stop and curse and either rush through the chopping (a good way to lose the tip of a finger, eh, Andy?), or find some way to quell the ocular irritation.
On this occasion, I hastily set down my knife and quickly rooted in a cabinet for some matches before rushing into the dining room and grabbing a fat, white votive candle. I sniffled and blinked my poor eyes as I hurriedly lit the candle, set it next to the cutting board, and ran the match under a stream of water to toss it in the trash. The candle's tiny flame not clearing the onion fumes expeditiously enough for me, I snatched it up and quickly passed it under my face several times, counterclockwise. I breathed deeply and took up my knife to finish cutting my onion, noticing Alton's interested gaze as I did so. He contentedly munched his apple slices, apparently at ease with his mother performing what appeared to be some kind of pagan kitchen fire ritual in front of his eyes. No doubt he was filing it away for future discussion fodder on Oprah's couch; you can get the full details in his memoir.
Happy Fall!
Here's a quick shot of Alton's new favorite pose: hands on hips. He will just absentmindedly place his hands on his hips when he's walking around, which makes him look somewhat like a university chem professor, strolling about the laboratory inspecting his students' work. We recently started a little kids' music class, and during one of the songs all of the parents and children were sitting on the floor in a circle, and Alton decided it was time for him to get up from my lap, put his hands on his hips, and start walking the perimeter of the circle. It was priceless.
