Crossing the bridge

Yesterday was the Cub Scout pack picnic. It was exciting for two very special reasons: 1. Mark bridged over from being a first-year Webelo to a second-year Webelo, and 2. There was a loose dog in the park. (More on that later.)

Webelos are the transitional phase between being a Cub Scout and becoming a Boy Scout. And being a second-year Webelo just puts Mark that much closer to being a Boy Scout, which I'm not sure I'm ready for yet. He's still just a little Cub to me.

However...Mark is certainly not a shy little five-year-old anymore, growling and giving the audience the stink eye for simply looking at him. No, he's grown into quite the confident young man. And by confident I don't mean in the traditional calm, self-assured way. More like the class clown kinda way. He raised his hands, egging on the audience to cheer for him as he received his earned activity pins.


One happened to be for the Showman activity, and the guy next to me laughed at Mark and said, "He's certainly a showman!"

But Mark and his buddies took their senior rank in the pack seriously, showing those littler Cub Scouts how to really cross a bridge. As each of their names were called, they literally ran, skipped, danced and hopped across the bridge, and into their second-year Webelo status.



And then there was the dog...a well-groomed little Shih Tzu wearing a harness. He obviously belonged to somebody, but that didn't stop the Scouts from crowding around and feeding him hot dogs. One boy noted he probably shouldn't eat them, since hot dogs seemed "a bit cannibalistic."

"They aren't really made out of dogs," I told him, and he laughed.

While the younger Scouts engaged in water balloon tosses, mini golf, tossing footballs and frisbees, Mark's den befriended the dog. They made a makeshift leash from a uniform neckerchief, and later a balloon ribbon, then they scoured the park looking for the dog's owner. It was a friendly little dog, loving all the attention, and once the boys found him, they took turns carrying him everywhere. I don't think his feet touched the ground once. They spent the entire picnic playing with the dog, as they parents kidded each other about who was going to take him home.

(We never did find the owner, but one Scout dad volunteered to go to a few nearby houses.)

All in all, it was a fun, friendly picnic. It was fun to watch all the Cub Scouts cross the bridge over to their next level of Scouting, and to see all the proud parents (and even a little stray dog) cheering them on.

Go Cobra Patrol!

More fun than a boogey board to the head

Yesterday was Father's Day, and we decided to spend it with the family, at the beach.

So we packed up no less than 25 pounds of food, a giant cooler of margaritas, 17 beach chairs, 13 sweatshirts, five kids, three towels, and one boogie board decorated with sharks. We took everything but the dog, and loaded it into a wagon which Tim (Kathleen's boyfriend) then pulled to the beach.

The weather was great as we started out on our adventure. Warm and sunny, not too hot or too cold. It was going to be a lovely sunset dinner, and the kids were all giddy with excitement. (And by "giddy," I really mean "whiny" about carrying the assorted beach gear half a mile to the beach.)

However, as we turned right and headed onto the sand, we realized somebody forgot to tell the wind about our party. The sun remained, but the warmth dissipated immediately, replaced by an arctic 85-knot gale force wind storm.

But we Dinsdales are a stubborn bunch, and we like our parties. We weren't gonna let a little wind slow us down.

Sand, however, was another story. The sand definitely slowed us down, particularly Tim and the loaded-down wagon. He dragged that wagon across the sand without complaint, until Mary tried to help him. She grabbed the back of the wagon and pushed with all her might, remarking, "I don't know if I'm helping or making it worse!" And that was Tim's cue to save face -- he said it might be making it worse (he's so polite!). Mary then grabbed half the handle and helped Tim pull the wagon, which would've helped if my niece Nathalie hadn't taken up Mary's post behind the wagon. Now it was her turn to weigh down the back.

We finally reached a spot near the water. The kids proceeded to run around us in a circle, kicking up sand and getting in the way. Scott ordered them to stop, then gave them tasks to set up camp. Chairs were set up, small wooden tables were assembled, and food was set out. Everyone helped except my brother Brad, who insisted, "It's Father's Day, and I'm a father, so I don't have to help. And on Veteran's Day, I'm a veteran, so I don't have to do anything that day, either."

He was so proud and smug, I asked, "Oh, and do you get Jackass Day off too?" He replied, "No, but I think you do!" (We aren't your typical loving family.)

Mark was running across the beach, pulling the attached boogie board over the sand. Two-year-old Johnny thought that was great fun, and hopped on, which slowed Mark down a bit.

I set my red cup on the cooler to help Mary, and it immediately flew at me with alarming force, splashing my margarita everywhere. The good thing about the beach is that you don't have to clean up your mess -- I simply covered the spill with wet sand.

Mark and Nathalie decided to brave the water. I thought they were crazy (that water was COLD!), but as I stood on the beach watching over them, I realized it was much colder standing there in the wind.

I watched Mark and Nathalie get beat up by the waves for about half an hour. My cousin Kathleen was hilarious -- she chased Mark into the water, then grabbed up Nathalie and tossed her into the waves. She was laughing so hard about it, she didn't notice that she'd gotten herself all wet as well.

Mark and Nat did their best in the pounding surf. At one point, they turned toward us and waved their arms triumphantly, as if to say no waves could slow them down. Right behind them, a HUGE wave rose about about six feet in the air, and crashed down upon them. I'm not proud to say that Kathleen and I erupted into laughter.

Finally, I could take the wind no more. We headed back toward the family, where Mark refused to change clothes and insisted he wanted to eat first. He helped himself to a giant plate of pineapple, which the wind immediately sent flying. That put him off. He fixed another plate and brought it, shivering, to the table, where he covered it protectively. Between his teeth chattering and his cold body shaking, I don't know how he got any of it down.

I watched the family eat, guarding their plates, and occasionally chasing rogue parts of dinner across the windy sand. I watched Grant, who had leashed himself to the boogie board, run across the sand. The wind sent the board airborne, like a kite, and I wondered if Grant might go flying. I turned away just briefly, during which time Grant ran past me, whipping me in the head with his flying boogie board.

Mary made Mark a steak sandwich, and I made myself a chicken one. We each got approximately three bites down before -- you guessed it, our plates and food went flying.

At this point, we were all just laughing. It had become so outrageous, almost dangerous, that it was truly comical. Our Father's Day picnic was becoming hazardous, with plates, food, and other shrapnel regularly flying at us.

"When's dessert?" the kids asked, eying the pies Tim and Kathleen brought. At that point, Mary said, "Let's have dessert at home instead." And then, in less than two minutes, the picnic was broken down, and the wagon fully loaded.

And so began the reverse trip, similar to the trip there, but uphill. Mary was loaded down with chairs and backpacks, and Grant was running around. Mary gave him a backpack to carry, which made him unhappy. However, we Dinsdales are a hardworking bunch that insists on fairly dividing any and all work. We are also a compassionate group, so as 4-year-old Grant started crying about the backpack, no less than three family members admonished him to "suck it up."

Somehow, a few minutes later, he managed to give away his backpack and loudly announced, "Hey, now I don't have anything to carry!" I tossed him a giant towel and said, "Now you do!" His sister Gabi shook her head at him -- she knows that if you aren't gonna help, you don't announce it!

And so we arrived at Casa Dinsdale, our entourage of sandy, windblown family members. The air was completely still, balmy but not an ounce of wind in sight. It was like we'd returned to a completely different country.

We broke out the pies and alcohol (beer for the men, champagne for the women), and everyone retired to a safe place by gender or age (the kids to the playroom, the women to the front porch, the men up on the roof deck). We ate our dessert in peace, and laughed at our crazy picnic adventure.

At one point, I looked over at Mary, whose hair was windswept and just...well, crazy. It looked exactly the same as mine, and I couldn't stop laughing. It just reminded me that in my family, there's no such thing as a quiet, peaceful, uneventful family picnic.

It may not have been the most serene family outing, but then again, I don't have the most serene family, either.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

A day at the park

Yesterday, I took a stroll down Memory Lane -- literally! My friend Joe arranged a picnic in a park that was, appropriately enough, right off a street called Memory Lane.

The picnic was an informal get-together of Prosoftians (people I worked with at a company called Prosoft). I was only there for a year, but I worked with some of my close friends (Jud, Susan and Patrick) and made some other really great friends there as well.

I was a little nervous because after I left, there were waves of new people who joined the company, people I didn't know very well (and probably wouldn't have had a lot to say to). But imagine my surprise when I turned up to see my core group of friends there! This was gonna be a fun afternoon for sure!

Joe, party organizer extraordinaire, was there when we arrived. So were RuthAnn, Bill and their kids Natalie and Buddy, who all drove down the mountain (they live in Crestline) for the picnic. Jill arrived, then Jud, announcing the Lanes were on their way. They arrived soon after, Patrick carrying little Tabitha, and Susan carrying her own surprise.

"Got any questions for me, Joe?" she asked, unzipping her jacket to reveal a baby bump.

We all cheered, and congratulated Susan and Patrick. They're such great parents, and new babies are always wonderful news. (They're expecting another little girl in May -- Susan worried it might push Patrick over the edge, having THREE Gemini women in the house!)

Mark, meanwhile, took this opportunity to transform into a loner. He shook hands (and perhaps even made eye contact) with all my friends, but then moseyed away with a ball he kicked at a wall. Buddy and Natalie tried to engage him, but he refused. At one point, he found a giant broken tree branch and dragged it across the park. Every time he stopped dragging it, the other kids casually sat on top or leaned against it, but still, he refused to be drawn in. It was pretty funny -- at one point, five-year-old Buddy was just chasing him around the park, and Mark couldn't avoid interacting with him.

I could understand his moping if I'd taken him to a party with all adults, but man, there were lots of kids running around here. I think he was really bummed that Gillen, Jill's son and Mark's buddy, wasn't there.

But I was just glad to see all my friends again--it had been too long! We sat in the park, enjoying a sunny Southern California day, and each other's company, laughing, catching up, and occasionally looking for or feeding the kids. (I gave Mark a granola bar, and poof! He woke up, and instantly transformed from Sulky Mark back to Happy-Go-Lucky Mark.)

After a while, the kids got bored, so we packed our stuff and headed over to the playground. Mark climbed up on the play structure, announcing he was a bus driver, and asking where I wanted to go. Jud suggested San Diego, to see his grandparents, and Mark loved that idea (he loves my parents!). I asked how much the trip was, and Mark replied, "Three dollars."

"That's a deal!" I said. "I'll take one ticket."

Mark realized maybe he'd undersold the tickets, so he amended the price to "Six dollars. Each way -- that'll be 12 dollars please!"

I shook my head, and RuthAnn commented on how quickly inflation rises these days.

Behind us, her husband Bill was twirling their son Buddy around like an airplane, swinging him by one arm and a leg. Bill didn't know Buddy had filled his pockets with acorns, which were flying out of his pockets as he spun, smacking him in the face.

A bit later, I was sitting at the table, when I realized I didn't see Mark anywhere.

"Hold on a second," I told Jud, mid-sentence. "I lost my kid."

I took a quick stroll around the playground, but didn't see him. "Mark?" I called out.

I heard a voice behind me call out, "A little help?"

I tuned to see Mark just below the ground, gripping onto a tree branch -- he'd just climbed up the steep ledge behind me. I walked over to see a rocky dried riverbed below -- Mark said the ball "fell" down into the riverbed, but I'd bet my money he kicked it over the edge so he could climb down there.

"Next time it goes down there, you call me," I told him, pulling him up onto the grass.

"So you can go get it instead?" he asked.

"No," I said. "So I can stand at the top of the ledge and make sure you don't hurt yourself getting up and down there."

Jud laughed and said, "Yes, a good parent always supervises their child."

I thought we'd be there a couple hours, but it turned into a long, lazy afternoon. It was just so good to see everyone again, and hear what they were up to. I could've stayed longer, but it was getting late. Some people had to leave because they had babysitters coming, and some had to leave to go babysit (Mark and I were watching the nieces and nephew). And so, with lots of big hugs, we bid each other farewell, and promised not to wait so long for the next gathering.

Thanks Joe, for setting up such a great day!