Tom in a swimming class. He can swim, now he's practicing style.

The incredible just happened — Lisa dunked her head!

On June 3rd, granny finally arrived. Like every year I was looking forward to this moment, postponing a lot of chores until the time I would have her help. Like every year, this means I get much more busy and my life is even more confabulated.

Like on the other Wednesday for which I had planned I'd drive Tom to school, stop in my fitness gym, take a shower at home, do some shopping, and pick up Tom by 11:25, while granny would drive Cecilia (her car) to an oil change, picking up Lisa on her way back to save me one mad dash across town. In conclusion, we would all meet at home for lunch, followed by a quiet afternoon.

Approaching his school, Tom declared that I forgot to pack his swimsuit. Hence I explained that he would need a swimsuit for his school "olympics" on THURSDAY, and also that he is big enough to remember such things himself in time, while it is not my duty to pack his school things. Guess how big was my surprise, when I found out that the "olympics", for which I had signed up as a volunteer, were actually happening already on that very day.

In Jamestown railroad muzeum.

"Railtown" museum in Jamestown, California.

I spent the next two hours sweating, unwashed, in my dirty sweat-pants, attending a jump-rope station. This alone would not be such a crisis, for I only missed my gym and shower. Then granny called that Cecilia would, besides the oil change, also need timing belt replaced, which would be finished in the afternoon. This caused granny to need being rescued from Tony's so that she would not get stuck there for the whole time. Suddenly, I was to pick up two HUNGRY and TIRED kids, drive with them twenty miles to Tony's, pick up granny, returning (with the same hungry & tired kids) back home for lunch, which would still have to be cooked. Don't you love adrenaline rush? Eventually I came up with me picking up the kids, while Hippo would pick up granny, and we all converge on a Vietanmese soup near Hippo's work. This worked quite well until the moment when, while headed for the soup, a tire pressure warning light started flashing on my dashboard.

First eyballing check, followed by actual gauge metering, found no problem; still we agreed that Hippo would ride his bike home, while I keep his wagon and my (flashing) bus, just in case the tire was actually punctured; that way, I would still have a car to take granny to Tony's for Cecilia. If you're getting lost in this, know I'm not sorry — I was sometimes feeling like a participant in the problem with a wolf, goat, cabbages and a ferryman, who is supposed to ferry all aforementioned articles across the river without anything getting eaten. I was trying to figure out how to convert two broken cars out of three into all three, fixed if possible, ending up back at home, without finding myself in one place with two cars (for I can't split in twine and drive both at the same time), nor with for example children left in the car shop without their car seats.

Blacksmith shop

Gentlemen in seart of the biggest tool.

In the end it turned out that the light in my bus was lying; there was no tire leak, but even so it was one of the totally confusing days, when I drove to and fro to no avail. Fortunately it was also one of the last days of our school year. I could not wait to get rid of our morning races with getting up, breakfast, making sandwiches and distributing children to different school institutions, just to get them back before lunch at a neckbreaking pace. Lisa is going to start in kindergarten from September at the same school where Tom is going to attend first grade, so perhaps we lose some of the craziness.

I had hesitated for a long time, whether to sign the kids up for some sub-urban summer camps, but somehow I failed to find anything that would offer a useful program for acceptable price — and would happen at the same time in the same place for both of them children. Eventually I followed an advice of my neighbor Ina, and signed them up for swimming in a community center. Nine half-hour lessons in two weeks felt rather adequate, with very nice price ($5/lesson).

Naturally, I found myself on the brink of crying after the first class. Lisa made a scene that she would not set foot in the pool, on account the water being cold (it was over eighty degrees, so the scene was totally uncalled for). Tom refused to communicate with his teacher and hysterically clutched the edge of the pool. The teacher logically concluded that Tommy could not swim at all. I logically concluded that someone would be hashed into a thousand little Tommys and Lizzys. Still, I held off the hashing and arranged with the teacher that Tom would be moved to a less advanced class — Tommy protested that he was already in kindergarten and did not want to swim with toddlers, but Christian — his new teacher — assured him that his class was the right one for big kindergarten boys, putting Tom at ease.

Lisa's dream came true, riding on a BIG horse.

Tom hesitated first, but then enjoyed riding as well.

I held a long discussion with the kids about "how to behave in a swimming class". Not that I would give it much hope, but I had to try. Strangely, since the second lesson, juniors behaved superbly. I don't know where the community center hires their trainers, but they were amazing — young yet experienced guys, who made a great impression on our kids, who are used to over-feminized school system. Lisa tried her desperate wail once on her trainer, Adam, and when it did not work, she tried to capture his fancy by showing off her swimming style, which turned into a workout. Adam achieved in eight days what I, her mother, could not do in one year — make Lisa dunk her head underwater. Both our children know how to swim, but each had his or her specific limits — Tom used to swim exclusively below surface, Lisa only above. The classes taught them the missing parts, and some basic styles.

The only negative of these classes was, I did not manage to sign the kids up for the next round — the classes are booked full until the end of summer. We shall have to hurry up and apply for several cycles at once next year, planning our holiday trips in between.

Planning has been complicated this year anyway — the weather never cooperates. We had been checking out Oregon rains since May, as we wanted to take the kids rafting on Rogue River, but every time we come up with a weekend when Hippo could take one extra day off (after all, it's a long wa to Oregon, and it makes no sense planning for two days only), the forecast hits us with cold and rain. Nevertheless, in mid-June our tripping withdrawal syndrome was so strong that we decided to simply go ANYWHERE. The weather (nasty on the coast, creeping cold in the north, sweltering heat in the south) pushed us east, to Sierra Nevada. We had Saturday and Sunday (as Hippo had to work late on Friday), and thus we departed for the nearest reasonable destination on the western slopes.

A classic view of Kennedy Meadows...

...and looking back across the meadown towards the resort

When we approached Jamestown, we spotted a steam engine laboring on a hill, and we took a turnoff to the station. We had stopped there before long time ago, but now the whole old town and museum were in full season. We watched the engine for a while and visited a museum — a former smithy, various stationary engines and a movie memorabilia collecton (engines and Jamestown feature in movies like Back to the Future III, Little House on the Prairie, and in countless westerns). In the end it turned out a relatively long and juicy stop; the kids had an opportunity to run about while also enjoying the show — and so we could continue on our journey.

We were mildly set back by our favorite Herring Creek road being closed; we were forced to look for a different campsite. It took us about an hour and resulted in our finding a pleasant, cozy meadow at Mill Creek. First we pondered whether to cook dinner ourselves, but swarms of mosquitos chased us away and into a restaurant. We had never eaten at Strawberry Inn before, and thus a surprise awaited me when I gazed at the menu — beer from Žatec, Czech Republic, ribs with sauerkraut and potatoes indicated a Czech element. Indeed, the owner of the restaurant is Czech. Besides bottled Žatec beer they offered various local drafts, and I could properly refresh myself.

On our way back from the restaurant, juniors asked to stop by the creek and toss rocks in, and then begged for a campfire. We have packed neither sausages nor marshmallows, but they did not mind. They got themselves busy for at least half hour by adding twigs and poking the fire, soon becoming ready for bed. Hippo and I had our favorite (alcoholic) Mike's Hard Lemonade, and to the bemusement of our children, we sang a few folk songs. Too bad I did not think about bringing my guitar along, it could have been more fun.

Juniors still enjoyed splashing in the river more than the hike.

Left to right: Lisa, Carol, Tom (spiky hair), Hippo (no hair).

For Sunday, Lisa had been promised Kennedy Meadows. We wanted to hike to the Relief Lake and stop by the horses at the local pack station. Friendly cowboys in retirement age offered us renting a horse for ten dollars and let the kids ride. Lisa was in seventh heaven — so far she had been riding tiny ponies in a circle on a farm in Half Moon Bay, and now she had a REAL BIG horse. Tommy was first a bit shy, but soon he, too, asked for a ride and so we kept leading Chucky around the pack station for at least half hour. Tom was intrigued by the information that once he reaches seven, he would be able to ride on his own. He asked a little anxiously, how does one drive a horse. I think he relaxed when he learned that it's rather simple (and he does not know yet that most horses will try to disobey, especially with a newbie on their back — but we shall deal with it when it happens). Since that day Lisa has been drawing our whole family on horseback and Tom tells everybody we meet how one drives a horse — I think we have got enough program for next few years.

After the horse ride I tried to convince my family to a hike, but already at the end of the first meadow the kids protested. I quite understood — I felt myself like walking through a thick cotton and not in a alpine air. We had slept at a relatively low altitude the previous night and Kennedy Meadows is located high in the mountains; we spent the whole winter practically at sea level. I managed to drag my family to the first bridge over the river, but there was no point in trying to break them; we returned back to the meadow and released the children into the icy river, where they waded merrily. We never broke any sporting record, but we simply enjoyed a beautiful trip.