June 22, 2006: And they're off!

...like a herd of turtles. We imagined getting to southern Oregon tonight, but here we are at my aunt Harriet's home in Vancouver, Washington, just across the Columbia River from Portland. It's a lovely place, one we've visited many times to see Harriet and her kids: Scott, Ann, Todd, and Lisa. They all have kids of their own now; Ann lives in Seattle and Todd lives in Phoenix.

Tommy's found a great climbing tree in Harriet's yard, Danny's on the swings at the playground in the park across the street, and the boys have already explored the woods next to the park with their mom.

Feral rabbits are hopping about everywhere. The weather couldn't be more pleasant. If we get an early start in the morning, we can reach my brother Jim's place in Woodland, near Sacramento. The boys are looking forward to playing with their cousins Evan and Amanda.

I'm helping my aunt update her virus protection and download over 10 MB of photos from her son Todd, a very slow process on a 28.8 kbps modem. I'm also trying to figure out why the photo uploading feature at Blogger isn't working for me. Blogger is the otherwise easy-to-use web-based application we use to create our blog (and which you can use to create your own blog).

Our trusty steed, a red 1998 Toyota Sienna minivan, has been serviced (our starting mileage: 106,360). We have maps and addresses and phone numbers and a basic itinerary (which I will not disclose just yet so as to reserve a few surprises).

So why did we get such a late start? It turns out it's not so easy to disappear for nearly two months. Not only do bags need packing, but library books and DVDs need returning, emails need sending, supplies need buying, and the house and bills need looking after while we're gone. We really appreciate all the help we're getting from Debbie's parents in this regard. I guess we'll have to send Bob and Dorothy (and my mom) a postcard or two. Everyone else will have to make do with this blog.

Another delay took place in the city of Tacoma, where we were stuck in a horrendous backup for half an hour, partly a consequence of construction, and partly the result of a spectacular accident involving a horse - or at least I think it was a horse. I couldn't be sure, since its remains were distributed for a hundred yards along the freeway.

In the car, the boys put state stickers on a map of the US. Before he fell asleep, Danny played excitedly with the digital camera his grandparents gave him today, snapping blurry shots of everything in sight. Tommy read a novel: Magic by the Lake, part of Edward Eager's Half Magic series, a book my sister Peggy gave him for Christmas. Not having read it, I asked Tommy for a synopsis. Was it like the Harry Potter series, which Danny has been rereading? "Well," Tommy told me, "they're both high fantasy, and the main characters are kids: Martha, Jane, Mark, and Katharine. But they don't have magic powers. Instead, they find magic." His teacher, Ms. Alsdorf, would be pleased.

Then there were the many decisions we needed to make on the road. How to access the internet? How to keep the boys happy and entertained, not torturing each other (and us)? How to persuade the cop not to give us a speeding ticket? (Two out of three ain't bad.)

It's easy to understand why we got the ticket. The speed limit was 70 miles per hour, so I set our cruise control to 75 to make good time yet avoid getting caught for speeding. Just as we entered the Vancouver area, Danny began to proclaim, again and again in a keening whine, that he had to pee. I therefore missed the sign announcing a reduction in the speed limit to 60 mph. Both an inauspicious and an ironic start to our trip.

I use the word "ironic" advisedly, as should anyone who blogs in the wake of the Internet brouhaha that erupted over Alanis Morissette's song "Ironic." People around the world weighed in on the subject of whether the singer knew the first thing about this particular trope. I also have to be careful since I have siblings and colleagues who, like me, are literary sticklers that will jump all over a person if he or she calls something ironic when it isn't. For the record, then, a speeding ticket is simply unfortunate, but the fact that I got one as a result of trying to avoid one is ironic.

It occurs to me that we're really giving short shrift to the Northwest on this trip, but then we live here and make this drive to and from California every winter. And I could wax poetic - nay, rhapsodic - about the overwhelming greenness of the states and the many awesome places we've visited here. We took my mom to Mt. Rainier and Mt. St. Helens last summer, and the year before we took in the Oregon Dunes and Crater Lake.

Hey everybody! Come up and see us sometime!