Nature Nurtured

Olivia and the other students of their summer nature class are taught to care for their friends of the natural world. On this day, they learned about the varieties and importance of flowers. The kids spent the last fifteen minutes of class buzzing like bees around the grounds of the nature center in curious and careful pursuit of the flowers they'd just studied.

Wall-Mannered

Olivia shows us that she'll climb toward outer space in search of adventure.

Able in a China Shop

We'd signed Olivia up for a calligraphy class at a local nonprofit organization that is committed to supporting area families who have adopted children from China. Beni first found out about the group quite randomly nearly three years ago—she’d dropped in their business during a chocolate-themed tour of downtown businesses, at which time she coughed up her e-mail address for a piece of cake.

They send her all sorts of information regarding Chinese adoptions, but also a calendar of events they hold at their headquarters. Based on the positive experience Olivia and Beni had while participating in their Chinese New Year celebration back in February, we decided to try our hand—rather Olivia's hand—at the art of brush and black ink.

Our burgeoning artist proved to be a quick study: she was able to produce a boscage of bamboo shortly after receiving instructions from the teacher.

Kicks Some Grass

By the last days of soccer class, the instructors are tired of instructing and the kids are tired of being instructed, and so they tied down and pulled up their bootstraps to get to work playing what’s known around the world as the Beautiful Game. Olivia got tapped for goalie duty in the first half, a role she cherished for its frequent breaks from the action, but Ronaldinho-inha did show some flairs of interestedness and skill on the other end of the field when she was forced to roam the pitch as a field player in the second half.

Read Meat(balls)

Our town’s library runs a summer reading program for the lil’ ones. The kids can earn weekly prizes—coupons for DVD rentals, ice cream cones, personal pizzas, and the like—on their way to the grand prize—their very own book—at the end of the session. This year’s book selection was fairly extensive, but Olivia locked in on one book in particular upon spotting it.

Our meatless munchkin picked up the classic “Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs,” a book which she told me she’d first heard a “long, long time ago” in preschool. Well, she must have wanted to make up for lost time because she had me read it to her at least five or six times over the course of this day, including once during our playtime at the park.

Jogging Her Memory

I was loathe to have Olivia participate in our local running club’s fun run­—see here and here as to why­—but ultimately ran counter to my intuition by taking her to the race site this evening. I figured it was a new year and that there was no way she’d pull off the trifecta. As you can see, she happily scampered around the track this time and even let her old man join in on the fun (run).

Women in Trees

I never watched an episode of the now-cancelled TV show “Men in Trees,” but I do know it starred Anne Heche playing a character whose first name was the same as Olivia’s middle name.

Olivia plays herself in "Man vs. Child," a show about us trying to survive parenthood. In this episode, we find our adventure seeker up in a tree as her nervous parents try to figure out how she got up there and when she might fall. (Spoiler alert: She doesn't fall. In fact, she convinces her mother to pose with her for a picture.)

Crash into Me

Tradition dictates that during water breaks at soccer practice, Olivia runs over to where Beni and I are sitting to playfully run one of us over­—usually me—before rehydrating and heading back out to the pitch.

At the end of class this evening, I just assumed that my having the camera out to capture her gleeful expression would indicate to her that she was to mow down her mother, but as you might guess from the extreme close-up I was able to capture, my assumption was off base.

The above shot was taken the moment before Olivia collided into me like a free safety teeing off on an unsuspecting wide receiver. Her head hit the camera, which then smashed into my face. The multiple impacts sent my daughter, my body, and the camera flying in different directions. Miraculously, neither of us (or the camera) was hurt, and unlike European soccer professionals, we didn’t exaggerate our pain by writhing around the ground in agony.

All A's

By day, she’s walking hand in hand with A.J. around the arts festival; by night, she’s accompanying Aiden in his wagon on their way to the park; and in between, Olivia’s observing during our bike trip up to Aiden’s that her best buddies’ names start with the letter A.

The O.C.

The ocean city of Ocean City—site of Days 10, 11, and 12 of our first vacation of the summer—was originally founded in 1879 by four Methodist ministers seeking a beach town for clean, wholesome fun. Although it no longer caters just to Methodists, Ocean City is still clean (garbage and syringes floating ashore is soooo 1989), wholesome (the town remains as dry today as the day it was incorporated), and fun (the two-plus-mile-long boardwalk is a mélange of all things tourist trap-py). We were there celebrating many things, among them my cousin Anders's graduation from high school.

I We Love Lucy

We are told that an elephant never forgets, but it is us who will never forget this elephant.

Lucy the Elephant is a six-story monstrosity of wood and tin sheeting located in Margate City, New Jersey. An early example of zoomorphic architecture, the structure was built in 1882 as a way to boost tourism.

This evening, she was the main attraction bringing seven of us—me, my aunt and my cousins, my mom, Beni, and Olivia—over the bridge to Margate City for dinner and a (big) show.

Get-Down Market

Olivia’s been quite partial to the songs “What a Wonderful World” and “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” ever since Jason Castro of “American Idol” infamy busted out a ukulele to cover Israel Kamakawiwo'ole’s mellifluous mash-up. Our daughter has also recently discovered Louis Armstrong’s original version of “What a Wonderful World” in book form…

...and in the movie, "Madagascar."

And here she is getting down to the composite of her new favorite songs as performed by a local high school student at the farmers market in Warwick, New York, hometown of my aunt, uncle, and two cousins.

(Apologies for causing neck strain; I can't

figure out how to straighten out the video.)

G Means Goodbye

We bade adieu to Olivia’s dear G, who, as mentioned earlier, was relocating from an address near ours to one by her parents in Rhode Island. And so it is with a heavy heart that we say goodbye and many thanks to someone who has been such an integral part of Olivia’s life—not to mention ours—that it’s hard to imagine her absence.
So G—you're such a genuinely generous, great, gracious, gregarious, goodhearted grandmother (and grand mother-in-law)—please know that we are forever grateful. We miss you gobs already.

Indeed, 500

This marks the 500th post for your pit stop for fun and pun. When this cyberspatial pursuit began nearly three years ago, I had no idea as to its direction or duration. Thankfully, I now have a better idea as to where this blog’s gone and is going, and as for how long it’ll continue, well, racing fans, the checkered flag only means that the start of the next 500 is just around the corner.

Journey Fourth

After using Ontario as a thoroughfare, we’d planned to cross back into the States at Niagara Falls, just in time for its spectacular fireworks display commemorating our country’s declaration of independence. But what seemed magnificent in theory proved less practical in practice: while our return border crossing was far less involved and loud than our passage into Canada, the combined forces of fatigue, hunger, lack of parking, and hour and a half of remaining travel time overwhelmed the reasons to stick around. So instead, we got something to eat outside of town and then headed for our hotel outside of Rochester, treated along the way by the fireworks shows put on by the communities near the highway.

After the fourth show or so, our dear daughter, her eyes weary and voice hushed as the result of a full day in the car, announced to us that she was going to send America a card to wish it a happy birthday.

Happy birthday, America!

Woe Canada

Day 7 of our extended vacation took us from Michigan to upstate New York, by way of the Canadian highways of the province of Ontario. We entered into Canada as a two-car caravan: Beni, Olivia, Grandma Randi, and I were in one car, and G and Aunt Liz were in the other one. Both of our vehicles were packed to capacity: ours with the various items needed for a two-week trip; G’s car with all of her earthly belongings. (She’d sold her house two days prior and was temporarily moving what she could fit in her car to her parents’ house in Rhode Island.)

It’s no wonder that we were “randomly selected” for further inspections at the border crossing—it must have looked as though we were finally making good on our promise to move to our neighbor to the north as the result of our last national election. We entered the inspection zone and were asked by a border agent to get out of the car, at which point things got interesting because Olivia refused the agent’s request.

As I went to remove her from her seat while sternly reminding her about the importance of obeying the commands of law enforcement officials, she went completely berserk. She cried and screamed with the force of a dozen Celine Dions. Feeling like I myself wanted to cry, we were all spared that sorry sight by the kindly agent. Sensing that we were nothing more than a family traveling through with an overtired child, he quickly went through the compulsory questions about what we did or did not pack before sending us on our way.

Spotted (a) Turtle

Derek and Nate, Olivia’s second cousins, caught a turtle out of Grandpa Del and Grandma Mary Lou’s backyard lake. The two offered to make turtle soup for us, but once they learned that our vegetarianism limits us to soy turtle, they returned the shocked shelled one to the water.

Dashing Figures

The starting line was drawn in the sand. The sprint would pit Olivia’s dad against her uncle. Old versus young. Short hair versus afro. Ex-high school athlete who occasionally obsessively hearkens back to his athletic achievements of yesteryear versus high school athlete who’s creating future memories with his current athletic achievements.

I’m not sure who won—­it was close throughout, and my body and mind went into shock during and after the race—­but if we were even at the end, I’d have to concede victory to my opponent because he would have won by a his hair.

Piece of Cake?

Olivia celebrated her golden birthday last month—she turned four on the 4th—and on the eve of the eve of our country’s birthday on the 4th of this month, our daughter celebrated her fourth 4th birthday. Grandpa Bruce was this gala’s main sponsor and its merry prankster: he’d decorated the cake with trick candles, which Olivia found equal parts amusing and confusing.

S'mores-gasbord

The dessert mainstay of the American campfire—the combination of graham crackers, chocolate squares, and toasted/roasted marshmallows—has also become a mainstay of Olivia’s diet. It’s a miracle that our daughter still has her teeth.