August 30th--Siteseeing.

Siteseeing August 30th

By: Colleen Cakebread

Written:  Bewley's Hotel room 9:00 pm

Hello again all new followers of our blog. 

I, the youngest of the ireland travelers, am here to tell you about the 30th of August. I am telling you about this particular day because the other two days have, for me, been spent sleeping in the car while mom and dad spend until 1:30 in the morning shopping for a new house to "let" as they call it here. As I type this on mine and Abby's new laptop--TARDIS--we are in the Bewleys hotel with the brassiere restaurant  It is around 9:00 at night. We just had the most exhausting,  leg-tiring, amazing day yet, because for the first time since we got here, we were heading out to Dublin to sightsee.

We passed through a park called St. Stephen's Green, and there was an old man giving out birdfeed there. We stopped, and he gave us some. He already had a swarm of about 20 pigeons there, so he gave us a a handfull of feed each and then a bird  each and picked up another for himself. At one point, I had 3 on me,

with others trying still to get on my shoes and shoulders! That was a big highlight of today. I still have the bird scratches on my arms.

After that we went to see The Book of Kells. The library there was the most tear bringing, beautiful thing I have ever seen.

The book itself was like that too, but the library had every known book in Europe at the time it was created. There were the marble recreations of so many famous people too! I thought it was pretty cool that I knew at least half of them.

Me and Homerus (aka Homer)

Something I learned about The Book of Kells by the way, was that the young monks who were tasked with writing it sometimes would write personal messages about things, like, "I'm cold", "I wish I could be done with this", and other things like that.

The Book of Kells was cool, but I found true paradise at the restaurant we ate at for lunch. Anyone who knows me knows me knows that I LOVE chicken, spicy things and lemons. Well we went to a restaurant called crackbird, witch should explain a lot. Me, Abby, and mom ordered a full buttermilk chicken to split. When I was looking through the menu, I noticed that everything on that menu had chicken in it. Literally. Except for the drinks. I ordered to drink a homemade lemon, with I figured was basically a lemonade. I was right, in a way. It was lemonade. Definitely homemade hand squeezed lemonade. Because they only used about one grain of sugar. And while I expected a nice, sweet lemonade, I got a mouthful of the sourness of a lemon amplified by ten. >million< >cough< >MILLION< >cough<. When we got our chicken, it came in a metal bucket. Like KFC, Except metal. When I bit in, it was unexpectedly spicy. Like burn your mouth off, scrape your tastebuds off with a spoon spicy. It was awesome. It even dimmed down the sourness of the lemonade. Mom had to tell me to slow down and breathe quite a lot.

While mom and dad payed, they gave me and Abby 5 euro each to buy some candy next door.

I got a large lollipop, a gummy shark, mini bubble gum bites (I thought of you Tina.) and some pixie stix, aka rainbow dust as they called it.

After that, we went to the Dublin Castle.

It was pretty fun! We went on one of the tours there and learned a lot of cool stuff about the castle. We saw the remains of the Powder Tower, then went into the castle itself. Dad taught us what happened when the horse did its business on the stones, and I'm definitely sure that we will use that knowledge forever.

After the castle, we tried to get into the Christchurch,

but it cost too much, and we dragged mom into a geek store instead. Abby and I got a poster each, and I chose a Sherlock poster that had pictures of benedict cumberbatch. It says, "Im not a psychopath, I'm a highly functioning sociopath."

We went through Grafton Street and St. Stepen's Green again

on the way to the car.

After that, we came home, because we found out that the Guinness restaurant closes at 4. We ate some of the best chinese I have ever had yet instead, then headed back to the hotel. That leads up to now.

I hope that you read more of our adventures over here,

Colleen.(or as they translate my name here, girl) 

Ireland, First Impressions 8/30

Topic: Ireland First Impressions

Written:  In Bewley's Hotel Room 9:00 pm

By: Abby Cakebread

After a 16-hour flight to Dublin, my first thought looking outside was, “we haven't moved from Portland.” On first glance Ireland looks much like downtown Portland with more bricks. Upon closer inspection while house-hunting (and looking outside while I wasn't sleeping), the towns are much more... tight knit? Rural? More small-town-y? It's a bit... indescribable, but, if you can picture it, all the stores are connected to each other and all made out of bricks. Each town is almost strip-mall-y without the “mall” part of malls. And everyone has the coolest accent. There is no person with the same accent as the other. One is thicker than the other, one sounds more official/casual, etc, etc. And every town (or so it seems) has a castle or a castle-y building.

It's like saying “hey, look, a tree” in Portland. Dublin, though, is much more city-like, with clothing stores and street players and fear of pickpockets.

In Dublin, after house hunting (shhh! Be vewy vewy quiet. There's mobile-home twaks) for the first two days, we played the part of “American Tourists,” aka nearly killing ourselves every time we go out for a drive, then seeing something important and acting like “yes, Mr. Tour Guide, we know exactly what you're talking about.” We saw the Book of Kells and kept the little audio-tour guide things, so we can listen to the audio-tour whenever we feel like it.

Next, we passed a bit through St. Stephen's Green (similar to Central Park in NY) on the way to Dublin Castle and found an Irish version of the New York Pigeon Man (from the trip Mom and I went on in 2013)! He gave Colleen and I some oats

, and we became Pigeon-Gods for a bit (is that an accomplishment? Just another insightful, inquisitive, college-essay question. Man, I should be a philosopher!). Arriving at Dublin Castle, we paid for the tour of the place. The bottom of it was very medieval, with the stones and the rubble and the creepy thing of water.

Up above, where the rich people spent their days, it was much more modern than you would have expected. Maybe re-furnishing, I don't know, but it looks like something a present-day queen/king would live in.

I would definatly not want to live there because I have the feeling I would trip and somehow break a priceless marble stature or a chandelier or something. Just me.

After the castle, we went to see the Christchurch.

There was a fee to get in. We didn't end up seeing it today. On our way back to the car (because we were all pretty pooped,) we passed (for like the third time) the geek store. Of course I had to go in, if it was the last thing I did. Mom surrendered to Colleen and I's pleading looks, and we got inside. If there is a geek heaven, I found it. Sherlock, Game of Thrones, and Doctor Who posters, all 5 euros. A stuffed T.A.R.D.I.S, Dalek keychains, Adventure Time stuff, a 3-D DOCTOR WHO POSTER, and so much more....stuff! It was awesome! I needed to add to my small collection of Doctor Who posters. So I asked Mom. One. That was all I could have. One. Doesn't Mom understand that the minimum is 12 posters per geek store to fill your antisocial nerdy needs? Jeez. I ended up getting the one with a million Doctor Who quotes. It's pretty cool. But my soul felt the loss of the 11 others I should have gotten (#firstworldproblems#thestruggleisreal). Colleen got a Sherlock poster, which I'm sure she will rave about in her post. We trudged back to the car after walking back (the long way), and attempted to enter the Guinness place. They rejected us, stating that they closed at 4:00. I think they were scared of us 'Muricans…..

We drove back to the hotel, and walked to the Chinese food place across the street. My sweet and sour chicken was honestly better than Oregon's Chinese food. Y'all gotta step up your game, here. We went back to the hotel, and I saved my mother's bacon by heroically pulling her out of the middle of the road before an angry Irishman mowed us down. I feel like that should've earned me the 11 other posters. Then, jaywalking in order to beat Dad and Colleen, ANOTHER angry Irishman came out of the hotel parking lot, and we had to jog the rest of the way before I had to save Mom AGAIN. We are now back in our lovely hotel, me, writing this, Colleen, writing hers, and Mom and Dad, looking at mobile homes.

This is Abby Cakebread, signing off.  

Details, details, details. 8/20 to 8/25

Details, details, details. 8/20 - 8/26

By:  Amy Cakebread

The girls have had another busy week!  Let me tell you, they are sure to let us know about how much they need a day off!  Piffle, I say.  Life is to be LIVED! 

Monday the 18^th, they had their routine doctors visit then they stayed with Gramma where they chilled and played on the deck.  Both girls got shots at the doctors.  No matter how many times I’ve done this with them, I really don’t think I’ll ever get used to watching someone stick a needle injecting some person’s chemistry experiment into my kids.  It just feels like something a good parent should prevent, not encourage.  Intellectually I understand that I am doing the right thing, but it’s always weird to watch someone hurt my children in the name of prevention.  I go all momma-bear on them.  Anyway, Tuesday, they went to Silverton to have a wonderful time making pancakes, baking cookies and bonding with Grandpop.

Meanwhile, I packed up the RV to get ready to move it to Tina’s house Wednesday the 20^th.  It was quite a logistical adventure to get an RV, a boat, a blue truck, a powerboat, a Yukon, 2 children, a dog, and a mending husband to Verboort with Ker at work.  I felt like I was living that riddle with the fox, the chicken and a bag of grain.  I couldn’t do it alone so I enlisted the help of my Daddy [yes, I still need my Daddy] who, like always, is first to volunteer to help out.  I won the father lottery for sure! 

I packed us up and drove Reggie to Tina’s.  Hooked up the electrical then immediately left with Dad back to Hayden Island to pick up the blue truck.  Being mindful of the horrific traffic on I-5 North that only let’s up in the morning, I drove like a maniac—what is new, right?—back to the RV park to grab the blue truck and take my ****-ing iPhone to the mall to get the battery fixed.  Dad went on to explore West Marine.  But, I know better than to go into that store; it’s bad on the wallet.

They dress more formally than our jeans/t-shirt standard in Ireland so I used the technology-free “opportunity” to reluctantly do some shopping at the mall while my iPhone was fixed.  It shouldn’t be a surprise that I lost interest in shopping for clothes quickly (I despise clothes shopping and Ireland will just have to take me as I am cause nothing is worth the hell of having to try on clothes, be unwillingly sprayed by the reeking, hive-inducing perfume, all the while listening to the combination of Mazak and ever present whiny, screaming children.  That people willingly do this as much as they can is beyond me!) and waited impatiently in the Apple Store for them to finish replacing the battery. 

Why impatiently?  The Apple Store triggers my anxiety no matter how much I try to control it.  It’s so lowering to admit that spending more than 30 seconds in that store—or Costco—can affect my mental health! Something about the long white room crammed with people talking loudly just makes me kinda (more?) crazy.  So, after 5 minutes of waiting, I’m jumping out of my skin and desperately trying not to show it.  The internal conflict must show on the outside (maybe it’s the crazy eyes coupled with the hair that must be standing on end or the fact that I’m hugging myself and rocking in place?) because the Apple Store employees always treat me like bomb dropped in their midst.  It’s like they’ve been warned.  They use their most quiet, patient, soothing voices and are sure to use small words and speak slowly.  Funny enough, I learned a lot about my laptop in the time I was waiting thanks to the helpful staff member who used the intricacies of iPhoto to talk me down from a panic attack. 

This was the first time I have driven the blue truck in a loooonnnnggg time.  It’s not my rig—it’s Ker’s—so I don’t usually think about using it.  I found out the hard way that the blue truck has no AC.  Why do we own a vehicle that has no AC?  And, why didn’t I know that that rig has no working AC?  Has this been kept from me on purpose?   Is it some kind of conspiracy?  Also, why do we own a vehicle that sounds like the transmission is going to fall out and litter up the freeway any second? Sentiment has to take a back seat to snobbiness, yes?  Hmmmm, something I should ponder. 

Back to the moving story (Tina, that was a pun!  The “moving” part was the pun.  You see, cause you can think of my story as moving in the emotional sense of the word AND you can think of it as moving in the physical sense of the word.  Did you get it?  I wrote it on purpose to make you proud). Thankfully, I didn’t have to worry about taking the boat out of the water.  Ker, Devan and I took the boat (Roger) out the night before.  Ker drove Bruce (the Yukon) and Roger to physical therapy and then picked up the girls on his way to the storage unit.   We used a spare second or two to grab all the winter clothes and household items we would need in Ireland.  The storage unit is a mess.  I decided on the spot that it would be in our (my!) benefit to sell the blue truck and hire movers to clear storage hell when we get back.  Don’t you agree?  Eek doesn’t even cover it.

Finally we made it out to Tina’s where I hooked up the RV so we could spend some time wit da fam. 

I really have an amazing family.  All of them.  We couldn’t do this without their love, patience and support.  Whether it’s Barbara, Sandy, Peter and Angela who are willing to watch over dogs, vehicles and college-age children or Dad, Mom, Tina, Mike, Crystal, Bryan and Jim who are always willing to lend a helping hand, open their homes to us, my cat and our high level of chaos…it’s just mind blowing how much these people have helped us in big and small ways.  I keep saying thank you, but there’s just not enough ways to express how grateful we are.  

We stayed at Tina’s Wednesday through Sunday morning.  It was nice to spend the time between chores together.  We haven’t lived with someone in a long time.  They made it so easy.  We even got to take Roger out for a last hurrah on Hagg Lake on Saturday. 

I just love that boat!.  We left Reggie, Roger and stuff at Tina’s while we are gone.  Sunday we moved to Crystal and Bryan’s.  After a couple of hilarious IceBucket Challenges, we dropped Maddie off at Barbara’s, the blue truck off at Dave’s, and got repacked for the air plane ride scheduled for Tuesday morning.  This included picking up my re-fixed wedding ring, more shopping for incidentals, contacting “letting” agents in Ireland, and a butt-kicking lap swim.  We were so welcomed at Cry's and Bry’s.  A kind of sneak peak at retirement, yes guys?  Being there just solidifies my belief that we need to find some land and build our homes side-by-side.  Tina and Mike need to get on board with that program too!  We’ll make our own “village”.

Not bad for 6 days! 

August 27, Groundhog Day

August 27, Groundhog Day
Written By:  Kerry

After staying the weekend with Bryan & Crystal at their home and making final preparations to travel, we headed to the airport at 3:30 in the morning, one day just recently this week, though exactly which is now lost in a fog of airport florescent lights and momentary timezone presences.  But so what if it was early?  We we going to have an adventure--and an adventure was exactly what we got, though perhaps on a different end of the trip than we expected.

Now, some of you may have traveled before with Amy or me.  You will already be familiar with our...distinct...travel styles and preferences.  For those who haven't had the pleasure, Amy likes to arrive exactly 2 hours before takeoff, proceed directly through booking and security to lay eyes on the gate and touch the chairs with her own hands, confirming that all is as it should be within the thin veneer of orderliness that masks the underlying anarchy inherent to all airport experiences.  No coffee, bagels, bookstores, or other form of loitering may intervene or commence until hands have been laid upon chairs at the correct gate.  Have your shoes off, belt unbuckled, wristwatch loosened, and laptop out before requested by security.  Do not linger at security to put back on your shoes, simply proceed in your socks directly to your assigned gate.  After depositing carry-on baggage in said gate chair, travelers within the group may take turns visiting points of interest within the airport whilst a guard is posted over the belongings, artfully arranged over twice as many chairs as necessary so as to ensure adequate seating upon return.

This works exceptionally well if your main goal is to ensure that you arrive on time for your plane and minimize the possibility of unexpected disruption to your travel plans.  I'm sure she finds it all comforting, although in reality, these steps merely represent a willingness to nod and smile at the airport's pretense that things will occur at their intended time and place.  I, on the other hand, prefer to arrive with a minimum of luggage and a maximum of available currency (I'd rather discover I need it and buy it "there" than drag whatever-it-is along with me on the off chance it may come in handy).  I use the automated check in, review the flight display boards--taking a moment to consider the many fine destinations to which I may someday travel--proceed through security and locate the nearest beer-providing establishment in which it appears I can be left alone to read until something important begins to occur: boarding, for example.  At which time, I will finish my consumables, pick up my backpack, and point myself in the general direction indicated by letters and numbers which may indicate my actual departure gate, with last minute corrections in direction or velocity as seem justified.

Thus it was at 3:30 AM--with four of us traveling together--that you may recognize the potential for conflict inherent in our day's planned order of events.  However, after two decades rehearsing the "my way, your way" game, Amy and I have generally made mutually acceptable concessions to the other's preferred approach.  We arrive early, carrying the maximum amount of luggage, proceed directly to the gate, post a seat- and baggage-guard, then commence shopping.  If that sounds suspiciously like Amy's travel style, rest assured that her concession to me is that I get to push the buttons on the automated check in machine.  I do love pushing buttons!

However, we were soon to learn that the seeming orderliness of airport ritual--remember the thin veneer?--was not to be observed today.  That the automated check in machines were inoperable was but an omen of how the rest of the morning would unfold.  After about 30 minutes waiting in line to check in, we were dismayed to learn that all United flights transiting Chicago had been cancelled.  Due to severe weather last night, the flight crews required for our journey were unavailable.  Dear United, thanks once again for sending the text message advising us of the cancellation an hour after I heard it in person at the gate.  This is how we found ourselves among those unfortunate souls no longer destined to make their connecting flights in Chicago, all of us herded together into a new line for alternate "processing".

Being the clever, 21st century sort of techno-phile I am, however, I got United on the phone while standing in their line and promptly arranged a flight on American, which would enable to us to make the originally scheduled Aer Lingus connection.  Upon confirmation of our changed itinerary, we stepped to the American line with superior, pitying glances upon the less savvy no-longer-Chicago-bound.

How quickly the proud are made humble.  30 minutes later, at the front of the American line, we were informed that although we had seats reserved for us on the new flight, United hadn't transferred "control" of the tickets to American, so we would be unable to obtain boarding passes in the interim.  With 45 minutes until the new flight's departure, we moved back to the United line, in order to expedite the transfer of "control."  (I use quotation marks to emphasize the ironic use of this word, control, of which it appears United has in fact very little).  Having already waited in the United line once, and then the American line, and with so little time left in which to clear security, I decided I would use United's first class line and avail myself of the next available agent.

Yet despite much hand-waving and explanation about our predicament, we were ignored for another 20 minutes.  During that time, the American agent was kind enough to walk--people still do that?--yes, walk to the United counter and explain what they'd done wrong in the computer system.  Finally, after much hand-wringing and many phone calls to Aer Lingus's booking center, United managed to free the lock they'd left on our reservation while they were busy failing to transfer it to American.  It was at this time we watched our shiny American flight take off without us.

Undaunted (well, slightly daunted), we explored other connection options with United: New York, Boston, Toronto...  You guessed it, however.  American now had "control" of our itinerary and United would need to wait for it to return before further changes could be made to our tickets.  So it came to pass that every single airplane departed Portland, many with empty seats, while we were relegated to accepting hotel vouchers to stay in our own home town.  Between the early hour, the head-spinning airline incompetence, and the sudden realization that we were temporarily homeless, we were forced to acknowledge that the day would be slightly surreal.  About the only bright spot was when the United agent--in yet another display of remarkable personal competence--printed twice as many meal vouchers as were required and decided it would involve too much paperwork to dispose of them properly.  How best, then, to bring our building sense of surrealism to full fruition?  Pancakes.  Which is how we found ourselves eating--nay, devouring--a breakfast of creme brulee brioche French toast, bacon, whipped butter and warm syrup on United's dime.  Can I order lunch and get a doggy bag, too, please?

After arranging a shuttle to the hotel, a nap and a swim, we located dinner and went to bed early, knowing that--like Bill Murray--Groundhog Day awaited us tomorrow with a 3:30AM airport arrival and heretofore unknown degrees of incompetence to be faced.

Kids Trip Sunriver Day 3

Kids Trip Day #3--8/13/2014

Guest Blogger:  Illessa Purdy

Today at Sun River I woke up to extreme heat on my feet and when I looked over at Colleen she was reading and it was obvious she had been awake for a while and hadn’t bothered to try to wake me up. We went out to the dinning room and Amy was already making breakfast. Then we played rage Uno and some Pop it. Then we got ready to go to Maverick’s but Amy had to make a lot of E-mails so we played more evil Uno.

After we got to Maverick’s Amy went to workout and the rest of us went strait to the locker rooms to change. After that Abby, Colleen, Jojo and I went to the pool and saw Morgan. We got in the water and Morgan was playing with a big yellow ball.  It was hard to hold on too.  Morgan, Jo, and Colleen won the game only because they went out of bounds. 

After Mavericks we went to 10 Barrels in Bend and we were mad at Siri, but she turned out to be right.  We had fries and pizza.  Morgan had a bacon burger.  Amy had a salad.  As soon as we got in the car to go back to Sunriver, we saw the dark clouds. 

The thunderstorm was awesome.  During the thunderstorm we played hide-and-seek in the house.  I was hiding and Morgan was trying to find me and he was standing right in front of me and he didn’t see me.  I even made some noise but he didn’t acknowledge me. 

After hide-and-seek, Colleen and Amy returned their bikes to the rental place.  While they were gone, Jordan played her yukalele. Jojo and Abby sang “Do You Want To Build a Snowman”

Then Amy made dinner and we played played more rage Uno and we ate dinner.  Then we went for a bike ride down to the Village.  We looked all the shops and I got the book Divergent and Colleen got a pan flute.  I tried out some perfume and Morgan and Jo liked it.  Then we came back to the house Abby and I had more spaghetti had ice cream with more Uno.

I’ve got to go because I want to get into the hot tub.  Bye!

      

Letter to The Rents

Dear The Rents,

First, thank you so much for trusting me enough to take your children away from you for a couple of days.  I know it is hard to let them go for any length of time.  We all want to keep our charges close to us—safe where the sometimes uncertain world they see can be filtered just a little by us.  It takes an enormous amount of faith to let me have them.  Faith that I will love them as much as you, tend to their safety and happiness as much as you, enjoy them as much as you.  I do.  It is one of the joys in my life, but I very much do.  I might not be able to show it as much as I would like, but your children (even the ones that could not be here this time—Nick, Cameron, Leah, Jaunie, Krissy, and Devan) bring me so much sheer joy.  I shine with it. 

Let me answer your first question:  Lessa, Morgan, Jordan, Abigail and Colleen are fine in body and soul.  They have been on their best behavior saying their “pleases” and “thank you’s” every time.  They are cleaning up after themselves.  They are acting responsibly and politely.  They have cleaned their plates and are not choosing junk food over healthy food all the time.  I’m not blowing sunshine here—they really are doing all of that.  I can see some of you have your disbelieving faces on.  I promise you they are being terrific.  Scouts honor.  Which means they absolutely are listening to you.  They may not be showing this to you when they are with you, but they are learning the lessons you are teaching them.  I just get to reap the rewards. 

Sorry this picture is so blurry.

Currently they are in the living room playing Uno.  They are laughing and joking and just having a grand time over there.  They remind me so much of the times where we get together and play Train or some other game.  We laugh, we get loud, we make fun of each other, we threaten each other, we question the rules, we are unrestrained and completely at our ease.  Wins are rubbed in each others faces and losses are blamed on everyone else.  And, yes, just like us, bodily functions were discussed and it was hilarious.  It’s some kind of magic that they can recreate that warmth so integral to our gatherings between themselves.  Something that they can teach us is to sing campfire songs while they play.  It’s a site/sound extravaganza.  It’s kind of beautiful and terrible all at the same time. 

Dinnertime is another time they remind me of us—including swapping stories and talking over each other.  And laughing and laughing and laughing.  I’m so glad that this part of us will go on after we all leave this earth.  They have learned the most important lesson—when you find special people enjoy your time with them.  Be open with them and let them in.  Most importantly, laugh with them.  It is times like these I know we have done something tremendous. 

Yes, there are some moments that I know each of you would disapprove of.  They have been louder than you want them to be and maybe bent some of the rules that we all live by.  Some of the topics of conversation might not be what you want to hear: “My fart must have gone up because no one can smell it.” said Morgan.  Abby’s response: “Mom’s farts linger.”  And, yes, there have been some moments that have been a little Lord of the Flies.  But, these are easily maneuvered through.  I haven’t spent the last 8 years herding high-schoolers and not learned how to maneuver through some strife!

 

Why is this picture more fun for them to make?

This trip I’m trying to stay off the screen and away from texts and phone calls and be present with them.  I have asked them to do the same so it seems fair to try and live by my own rules.  So, it might seem that I am avoiding your calls, texts and messages, but I’m just trying to show them how to have fun with limited electronics.  Avoiding your calls is just a bonus ;)  I'm quasi-successful with it.  I think this generation is always plugged in and unplugging feels foreign.  I notice they feel more vulnerable when they are disconnected.  I don't know if that's inevitable or not.  We'll all need to think on this, I guess.

I know I need to make arrangements with some of you to return your children back to you.   I don’t like that part of it so I’m doing the ostrich thing.  I’ll get to that tomorrow. 

Again, thank you for letting me have this time with them.  Ultimately, I want them to have these memories of each other for all their lives.  Also, when the youngest is 21, I’ll be the one they will turn to take them to Vegas.  I’m playing the long game here.  Muahahahah!

Who knows, maybe next year I’ll let one of you come with me…maybe.  Or, how about the year after? Or, in two years?  Let’s think on that one for a  while, K?

Love to all,

Amy