A day, a Monday.

To wake up in the morning with shirt pulled up, bellybutton hanging out, hair matted from sleep sweat, roll up to face the day with a big toot and bigger grin...that is the life. That is Ejvindr’s life. How do you hang onto that forever? Or get back to it?


There are few better smells in the morning than that of bacon. But then I think of those baby pigs, and their precious blue eyes, and snifflesnuffling sounds and...no.

Wait, am I thinking of bacon, or meatless sausage patties?

Also, there is nothing like having a breakfast that is interrupted not only by one of your offspring stage whispering their need “...to go number two,” but also actually getting pooped on by another child, and having a 16-ounce bowl of wet oatmeal deposited all over you by the nephew sitting in your lap.

Regarding the appropriate use of restraining devices in religious analogies:

There was a worship skit that involved Jesus attaching himself to a person with handcuffs.

Not the direction I usually take with my New Testament story interpretations.

Do I need coffee? I don’t know. Do we need love? Do we need each other? Do we need to find that convergence of skill set, innate ability, opportunity, and interest? Do we need hope or faith or premium gasoline?

I don’t know.

Drank a cup of coffee outside, and it probably wasn’t that good, but it was good. The key is, it was outside.

When hot, there’s two ways to get cool.

A) air conditioning
B) water

One of these is better than the other. And it involves getting wet. Also, sometimes it involves jumping off a big platform onto a giant inflated bag that has a person sitting on it, and launching that person into the air. It is scary if you are the person waiting to get launched, which is why I made our daughter do it while I leaped and launched her 42 feet into the air. We got cool, we cool.

There are people whose bucket list includes things like skinny dipping in the Bering Strait, and taking a bath in a giant claw foot bathtub filled with spaghetti, and I acknowledge that my name is on both those lists.

Also, we had noodles for lunch. And a salad bar that included kidney beans.

I dream of mandated afternoon naps.

Daydream of them. Becca told me to lie down for 15, post-lunch, on a soft mattress with a white blanket over that did not include sheets professionally Swiss-style folded by Rachel Nutter, yet was an inviting place to get comatose for a few. I did so, to the sounds of toddlers and young children playing and arguing. More the latter.

I woke up 22 minutes later, after hitting snooze a couple times, and was so refreshed that I had to make myself a cup of iced coffee.

We walked to the waterfront, because we didn’t run. The sun made the air hot, and everything. Super hot. I drank iced coffee that no longer had ice, and was more diluted water mixed with some coffee grounds and almond creamer, and I still took some satisfaction in drinking under the heat. There were toys, a lot of toys, water toys, because we came to play in the water, and there was water. So we played in the water. Because it was hot. And there were toys for people who got bored with the water.

We shot arrows into a target; a sport known as archery. A sport that became famous to me because of fellows named William Tell and Robin Hood, and famous to new generations because of Hunger Games.

I hit a bunch of bulls eyes, is how I remember. Johannes almost took an arrow to the crotch from an anonymous seven-year old who declined to observe the most important rule, which was: don’t shoot people in the crotch with an arrow.

Supper. An Asian kind of theme going that included broccoli, rice, and spring rolls. I had none of the latter. Why?

I don’t know. Because I’m still trying to lose five more pounds to help my body feel better, and these particular deep fat fried spring rolls - couldn’t they be shallow fat fried? - didn’t seem ones that would encourage me in that direction. I don’t know. I should have eaten them.

After supper, we took a dusty bus up a dusty road to a grass field, where people gathered to play Medic.

Medic is a game like dodgeball, except there’s a designated Desmond Doss figure on each team to unfreeze people when they’re hit with a ball. When a team’s medic is hit, the game’s over. It is a very fun game. There are many young children who play hard because it is extremely fun. There are many adult males who play hard because they are competitive and want to win and need some sort of conquering victory to fill a hole in their lives. Those are the people that I like to take out, with every ounce of my residual youthful strength, and nail in the crotch with a nice hefty playground ball.


Also, it is very, very fun to see the kids playing so hard. With no apparent sense of strategy, and in some cases, understanding of even what game it is they’re playing. It is glorious mayhem to behold and be a part of.

I ate trail mix, because I couldn’t say no. I love trail mix. I have a little stash hidden away. They have melted and hardened and melted and hardened and gotten soft and hardened over and over, sort of like a male mammal in heat. I do not eat male mammals, but I do eat trail mix that has gone through those cycles, and I do engage in the same activities male mammals in heat do when they’re lucky. I am lucky, sometimes frequently, though less so on family vacations where many of us sleep communally outside.

Later, there was campfire, there was singing and silly skits, there was a prayer which I didn’t really pay attention to, but I did ponder this question: is it not a thing anymore that guys take their hats off during prayer?

I don’t know. I still take mine off.

My mom, spirited adventurer that she is, signed us up for nighttime zip lining. This is very difficult to explain. The long version is that it’s where you go zip lining at night. In this case, my mom was an adventure-starter, which means she enabled other people to go, but did not go herself. My wife, spirited adventurer that she is, insisted that we go, despite my reluctance and aching body.

So we went, the five of us, and Ejvindr, wimp that he is, did not zip line. Also, they do not allow 19-month old toddlers to go. So he slept instead. Despite my initial fury at Becca for making us go, it turned out to be memorable and fun-ish, and most of the cables and harnesses held.

We got home at 2am, or 11pm, or somewhere in there, and I desperately wanted to watch some television, or read a book, or write or drink coffee or something, but my stupid 41-year old eyes were too tired so I unfortunately fell asleep.

That was a day.