Notes

Isaac squished his toe with a #10 can of hard red wheat while he and Jake helped me reorganize our food storage yesterday. These appeared on respective bedroom doors immediately following.

Witnessing happy interactions among my children is one of my favorite parts of being a mom.

Gringos in Panama

Two brothers and two brothers-in-law were a little concerned. Were Panamanians still free from the clutches of a Noriega-like dictator? For the good of these people, we just had to check it out ourselves. Truth be known, Anna's older brother David, (my old mission companion, aka "Junior", or "Testonie") planned a trip and I got to tag along. Younger brother Pietr (aka "Soldier") and brother-in-law Dave (aka "Marle") rounded out our little 'no hable espanol' party.

We left Portland in a foot of snow. Anna was very supportive from the inception of the idea, probably due to the nervous tick I've developed over the last year of ... opportunities for growth (work stress). A little R and R down south was a blast and really hit the spot. Not a one of us could speak Spanish, so we found friendly local "guardian angels" along the way who navigated us into a once in a life-time experience.

Don't worry Anna Allen fan club. The

sisters are already talking. These next pictures are of a hike up a densely covered and isolated jungle trail a local told us about. We swung on vines, and cooled off in some treacherous mountain runoff (Dave's knee). This waterfall was a halfway spot on a 3 hour river rafting trip that had nearly non-stop and intense rapids. This was better than anything I've done here in Oregon, there were a few spots that were class 5, most of the rest were class 3s and several 4s. Helmets were necessary, even David's pink one, (schwollie).

We discovered kayak surfing, phosphorescent plankton while night-time ocean swimming, beach bonfires, celebrated the New Year Panamanian style (blowing up mannikans with fireworks), and saw a decent amount of wildlife as well: boa constrictor, iguanas, sloth, and reef sharks.

Some we caught and cooked. Pietr caught his first fish: a yellow fin tuna, and I got this wahoo. During this trip we spotted several sea turtles, dolphins and flying fish.

We even got cozy with this crocodile. No worries, mate, I'm pretty sure she's a tame Sheila. She did like the fish scraps I tossed to her, but I couldn't quite get close enough to scratch her chin.

The snorkeling was the best I've ever seen, and the fried chicken and fried bread (local cuisine) was great. A great trip with a great group of gringos.

The Best Christmas Present Ever

I was blessed with parents capable of thinking "outside the box." This manifests itself in various ways, but where the grandchildren are concerned it is particularly fun. Isaac, for instance, is a person Grandma Mikkelsen understands. So when she says she has something special for him, you know it's gonna be good. This Christmas one of his gifts was...Turkey feet! When Grandma and Grandpa butchered a turkey for Christmas dinner, they kept the feet with a certain little boy in mind. After neatly cleaning and preserving them, they were presented to Isaac, who was ecstatic. The boy hasn't been the same since. For the rest of our Christmas holiday the turkey feet were either in his pocket or tucked up his sleeves for hands to startle and scare people. He was introduced to some new people, and when he pulled out his hand to shake...turkey feet. When he was told to go wash his hands for dinner, his reply was, "But they're already clean. They've been baked!"

An alarming moment was when he was trying to get out of the car one night, and as he jumped over the back seat he tripped and landed head down in a heap on the floor. I ran over to see what had happened and found him crying in fetal position with his nasty turkey feet (tucked into his sleeves for hands) over his face. My wild imagination took over and I screamed, believing for one half-second that the child was morphing into a creature right before me. Ridiculous, I know, but it was dark and I didn't recognize them. Isaac was delighted with my reaction and began to laugh through his tears.

Moral of the story: If you want to make your son/grandson really happy, give him your left-over turkey feet.

The Granite Man

Flash to the past: My older sister, Miriam, was visiting early last year. Over a large bowl of buttery popcorn, we hatched a plan to force our post-partum bodies into shape (James was born on August 15, and her little Max (above) was August 16. What fun those two are going to have!). What better than a nearly half-marathon on rugged mountain trails? So we both diligently trained and recruited. By the time the actual race came we had over a dozen siblings and spouses, Mom and Dad, and some loyal family friends signed up to race with us. Sadly, my sister Rivka and husband Chace couldn't make it, but were "there in spirit."

That glistening early June morning Michael, my brother David, his wife Kathryn, and Michael's brother David (above), headed to the mountains of southern Oregon, southwest of Medford. There we waited for the rest of our party to arrive. At one point a car that looked just like my sister's drove up and I made a fool of myself flagging it down. Then it stopped and a tall strange man, who looked a lot like a Burt Reynolds wannabe, jumped out and started vigorously warming up. Our party burst into laughter at the scenario, typical for me. Then the strange man jogged over to us with something like a swagger, and with a little too much familiarity asked where to go next. There was something strangely familiar about this tacky-looking fellow.

It was my father. As Miriam said in her version of events, "I should have known something weird would happen when you put more than two members of my family together." He and my younger sister, Bethany (left), had cooked up this outfit long ago. Long black shiny spandex, complete with blue flames, with short running shorts on top, nasty sheer tank top (including, for all you Office lovers, band-aids!). Bethany had sprayed his hair and moustache blackish, and the chain was donated by my brother Matt. It was sincerely creepy. Only a person as naturally dignified and dapper as my father could have pulled this one off successfully. Miriam makes a good point, that it was especially funny in the context of all the people around us, most of whom were very serious athletes wearing similar outfits.

So we invaded the Southern Oregon Granite Man for our first annual family run. David ran through the starting gate backwards; Mom and Dad leisurely walked, picking flowers, catching insects and mountain lizards the whole way and came in dead last by about 45 minutes. Bethany (who was 5 months pregnant) had forgotten her shoes, so she was running on newly purchased runners. She crossed the finish line with her husband Dave by her side and headed straight for the lake to bathe her blistered bloody feet. I don't think it was the most fun for her but she was a good sport. My sister Elizabeth (5 months post partum) and Kathryn (above) ran together, and Miriam and I crossed the finish line together, ending with a cartwheel for good luck. Five of our group earned medals for running placing times in their age groups. My brother Pietr (above, with Miriam) won first! Others should have won awards for pure grit. It was not an easy race. There was a significant climb in altitude for the entire first two+ miles, and the rest of the course was up and down. But it was completely worth it to be able to run through some of the most beautiful country in Oregon with some of my favorite people on earth.

Family Pictures

I dread family pictures with all my heart. As my family gets bigger, I begin to appreciate/understand why I can only remember two family pictures formally initiated by my mother. Those are not happy memories, and I was only the sulky teenager. Well, for Christmas I sacrificed a piece of myself for M's and my parents' sakes, and scheduled family pictures with a very talented and patient photographer friend, Keri Blue.

Me, trying to direct:

"Okay everybody, sit nicely on the floor and look at the camera..."

"I didn't say dogpile, boys. No, really. Look at the camera now!"

Everybody sort of looking straight ahead. Good enough. "Okay, time for the kids' shot while Dad recoups. Alright, all you kids sit around the bench. We'll start with Jacob in back..."

"No. I mean it. Sit down NOW and look at the camera! This is not a jungle gym! William, stop sulking. James, don't crawl off the set. Older boys, could you please help them?"

"Good enough. Okay, let's have some fun now. Everybody sit down, we're going to try something different.... Hey, stop fighting, everybody. No, it's not Clara's fault! Michael, wake up! James, Will, stop crying. You're not going to die."

"Whatever. Kids, go play. Let's do one of just us, Michael. Smile--if you still have it in you. (These are always so embarrassing.)" "Done! Thank you, Keri! We'll see you in 7 years."

(To view in larger sizes/higher resolution, click here . Will's wink is his signature smile these days. It's worth it to peruse all the excellent pictures on her blog. For family, or friends who are interested in the full monty, go to Keri's website , to galleries, to online proofing. Let me know so I can get you the password (akmallen@yahoo.com). There are some funny ones.)

James!

This little boy is a bona fide expert at tormenting his older brother. At the ripe age of nine months old I saw him deliberately licking his finger and wiping it on William to provoke kaniptions, over and over again--and smiling about it. By 12 months he was handily dodging blows, and since then it's just gotten worse. This easy going James Grey is destined to be the thorn in the not-so easy going William's side. (I'm sure Michael can sympathize, having yoked himself indefinitely to me.)

We were at the grocery store two days ago and James was making a series of squeaking noises, watching William closely for any reaction. Once he got one, James' face lit up with a grin and he made that particular squeak over and over again while Will went berzerk. As we squeezed ourselves past a kid reloading the bread aisle I had had enough. "James! You knock it off and be nice!" The guy loading the bread jumped out from behind his load with wide eyes and said, "What! I didn't...!" I looked at him startled, and he looked at me, then he sheepishly slunk behind his bread mumbling something about there being too many Jameses around here. It was hilarious! I laughed the rest of the shopping trip, in between reprimanding James for teasing his brother.

Introducing #6

Since the cat's officially out of the bag, I thought I'd formally introduce you all to Arliss Drummond Allen--sex unknown, except to Clara, who is sure it's a girl because it's due to arrive on her birthday and because "we already have too many boys!" We'll see in four months... (Picture compliments of my younger sister, Bethany, who specializes in disturbing drawings/magazine manipulations of every subject. This apparently is a gothic me, with a uterus instead of a heart. Thanks again, Jaco. It warms my...heart?)