High Times: The Sutherlands Go to Denver

The Sutherlands' love of baseball is at all-time high (the Sutherland boys at least. Paige and Traci both find baseball excruciatingly long and boring, which isn't exactly untrue). So I decided the best thing to do was to watch some more of it.

The day after school let out for the summer, we packed up the minivan and headed to Denver to go watch a couple of Colorado Rockies games.

Not Another Night in the Poop Tent

We did it.

We spent a night in the tent.

Our own tent.

Our friends the Bawdens talked us in to camping this year on our annual trip to Bear Lake. After our last camping adventure (which was also the Sutherlands' first camping adventure), we decided we were up for the challenge of facing the great outdoors again.

And we even bought our own gear.

Last summer, when we went on the ward campout, the Bawdens let us borrow everything we needed. I mean, everything. The tent, the sleeping bags, the air mattresses. It was so incredibly kind of them.

There was just one thing that was a little off.

As we set up the tent, I noticed a bit of a smell. But no biggie. I figured it would probably go away once we unzipped the windows and let in a little air.

But it didn't. Instead, it clung to the tent and everything that was in it — including its inhabitants. When we got home, our bags smelled like the smell, our clothes smelled like the smell, our toothbrushes smelled like the smell.

Again, no biggie. We washed the bags and the clothes and ourselves. We threw the toothbrushes away.

But I didn't want to give the tent back to the Bawdens smelling the way it did. (And I certaintly didn't want them to think that we were the cause of the smell.) So when we got back home, I set the tent up again and let it air out for another day.

When I returned it to Brett and Janeen, I thanked them profusely for their kindness and they asked how everything went.

"All of the gear was great...there was just one small thing. Uh, it kinda had a smell. I tried to air it out and everything, but it still smells a bit unpleasant."

They both looked at me and laughed.

"We tried to air it out before we gave it to you," Brett said. "When we got it out of the garage, we opened it up to make sure everything was in there before we gave it to you. Everything was in there — plus something extra."

[Long pause.]

"A dirty diaper."

"It had been in there for a year since we last used the tent."

"Two years," Janeen corrected. "It's been two years since we last the used the tent."

"Sorry about the smell," Brett said.

--

Smells aside, we figured with Curtis in Scouts and Tate soon to be, it was probably time to have our own camping gear.

And what better place to debut that gear than Bear Lake?

Despite some mega wind when we arrived, it was a beautiful evening for dipping toes in the water.



Eating dinner by the fire.



Playing cornhole.



Roasting marshmallows.

And, most importantly, debuting the new floppy hat I bought at the Army Navy surplus store. I'm so outdoorsy.

Unfortunately, the evening wind turned into morning rain. But after breakfast, the skies cleared up long enough for to get on the water.

Between bouts of rain and lots of lightning and thunder, the kids had some fun floating on the lake.

And the grownups did some kayaking.



The Bawdens were a little better at sea navigation than we were. But they didn't have to pull a Curtis behind them.



We built some sandcastles and one sand mermaid.

However, despite our best efforts to wish it away, the rain just wouldn't leave. So we decided to pack up early and head back home.

But not before getting a raspberry shake on the way out of town.



We spent the night in our own tent.

And survived.

And even had a good time doing it.

We're officially camping people.

Another Trip to Disneyland

We survived Disneyland...again. 

Growing up, I went to Disneyland exactly two times: Once as an unknowing baby and once as a angsty teenager. I had no idea that I'd grow up and marry a woman who'd convince me to go to Disneyland four times in eight years. 

This was probably our best California trip so far (and hopefully the last for a long time). 

We started out at Seal Beach. 

Pro traveling tip: If you want the beach to yourself, go at 2 p.m. on weekday afternoon.  

Parenting tip: If it's only 65 degrees on the beach, it's freezing in the water. But luckily kids don't care. 

Even at the happiest place on Earth, our fear is always that our kids will choose to have a lousy time. 

Despite the look of this look of disdain from Curtis, he actually had a really good time. 

I was most worried about Tate. When we went to Lagoon two months ago, he refused to go on any rides for the first eight hours of our ten-hour-visit. But other than one meltdown in the Toy Story Mania line, where he was hitting Traci, scratching Paige, and headbutting me, Tate did just fine. 

This trip also marked Curtis' first foray into big roller coasters. I love the look of fear on his face on Space Mountain. Tate, the littlest guy on the ride, is as happy as could be. 

Paige ruled the park, riding everything and conquering any fear of the scary ones, including California Screamin' (which she loved) and the Tower of Terror (which she hated). 

My trusty Fitbit informed that we walked 12 miles the first day. Tate opted for the stroller. 

After two days at Disneyland, we headed to Universal Studios. The 35 miles from Anaheim to Universal Studios in Hollywood took an hour and 15 minutes.  

Paige's favorite part of Universal was Harry Potter land. 

I had a different favorite. (Simpsons land was kind of what my dreams are like.)

Best. Family portrait. Ever. 

After a good day in the park, we had to brave the drive home. Thanks to two wrecks, combined with Friday night congestion, the 75-minute commute had ballooned to two hours and 15 minutes. After sitting on the freeway for a half hour or so, Siri offered a ray of hope: I have found a route that will save you 18 minutes, she intoned. We took it.

Siri guided us off the freeway and led us on a winding path through who knows where. In two miles, turn right. We did. In 600 feet, turn left. We did. And on and on through the labyrinth of the Los Angeles suburbs. It was maddening. Traci was a powerless navigator. I was a grumpy driver. Tate slept peacefully in his booster seat. When we finally made it to the last turn, the one that would lead to the big short cut, we saw another sign: Road closed.

When we made it back to the hotel, we all fell into the bed, exhausted. We'd walked more than 30 miles in three days.

It was a good trip. As our kids get older, it gets tougher to find things all three of them want to do. One wants to go on the big rides, but the others don't. One wants to go on the kid rides, but the others are too big. One is just grumpy all the time.

But this time around we basically did all the rides together as a family (probably to the lifelong traumatization of Tate; that Jurassic Park ride at Universal is pretty scary) and everyone had a good time.

Maybe we can go back to Disneyland after all.

Two Days in San Francisco (plus two more)

Traci and I don't take a lot of kid-free vacations. If my math is right, we've only spent one night away from the kids since was Tate was born five years ago. So when I had the chance to go to San Francisco for a work conference, Traci and I decided to go a couple of days early and make it into a mini vacation. 

We covered a lot of ground in the 30 hours we had together. 

When you're in San Francisco, you have to take a ride on the trolley, right? Unfortunately, on a Sunday afternoon at the height of tourist season, that means standing in line for an hour-and-a-half. After about 45 minutes, we decided that we didn't want to spend our whole trip waiting. 

We were about to throw our $14 tickets away when the conductor said, "We can fit two more on this one." Traci and I jumped over the rope, past the 100 people in front of us and declared, "There are two of us!" We were then shoved inside the middle of the car, where we could see nothing but the bodies pressed next to us. We'll take the tram next time. 

But the trolley was good enough to take us to Ghirardelli Square, famous for its chocolate ice cream. We took one look at the ice cream line — which was nearly as long as the line for the trolley — and decided to move on. We settled for the Ben and Jerry's shop down the road. No complaints. 

Our original plan was to take the trolley back to the hotel, but we figured we would could walk all way to the hotel in less time than it would take to actually make it to the front of the trolley line. 

We had a lovely stroll through Little Italy, Chinatown, and what I like to call the Convenience District. Who knows when you're going to need a sandwich, some wine, and a notary public all at the same time? San Francisco, you've got it all! 

[Traci on the bridge pic]

By the time we made it back, our feet were pretty tired but our spirits were still high. 

We went to Uncle Vito's Pizzeria for dinner, which resulted in more waiting. I tried to pass the time by eavesdropping on the conversation the Dutch hipsters were having two tables down from the waiting area, but I couldn't really hear what they were saying. 

For the first few years after my mission, I was pretty bold. If I heard someone speaking Dutch, I'd march right up to them and join in the conversation (uninvited). These days, I'm not so confident about my Nederlands. I'll usually still chat with Dutch people, but in English. 

After what seemed like forever, we were finally seated in a three-table section upstairs — right next to another group of Dutch people. 'Tjonge jongen! Maybe it was the hunger talking, but I was brave enough to speak to them in Dutch. It was a little clunky, but I felt like I held my own. I was proud of myself. 

Day Two

The Sutherlands have never been widely known for their adventurous spirit or love until the outdoors. Until now. 

Traci and I decided to rent a bike and ride the eight miles from Fisherman's Wharf, across the Golden Gate Bridge, to Sausalito. 

Outside of the rental shop, we were still a little uncertain. 

"Are you sure want to do this?"

"Um, yeah. I mean. Yeah."

We figured a tandem bike would be the best option. 

The first 20 minutes of the 90-minute trip were a gentle ride along the bay. Despite the chilly wind, it was refreshing and quite lovely. 

Next came the steep, windy, winding trip from the bay up to the bridge. It was hot and sweaty and yell-y. 

Traci: Why do you keep shifting? 

Me: It's not me, the gear won't catch. 

Me: We're never going to make it. 

Traci: We're almost there.

Me: I'm pretty sure I'm having a heart attack. 

Traci: I'm kicking into spinning class gear!

And zoom! Up we went. 

Once we made it to the actual bridge, the ride was much easier — though it was hard to not run into/over the throngs of bridge walkers or get distracted by the suicide hotline signs posted every few hundred yards. After about an hour, we had made it to the other side of the bridge and were able to enjoy the descent into Sausalito, which was absolutely gorgeous. 

Our legs were tired and our butts were sore. But we made it! 

We rewarded ourselves with a delicious lunch and some window shopping in Sausalito and then took the ferry back to Fisherman's wharf. 

(The views of the bridge from the boat were pretty fantastic. But they didn't beat the satisfaction of actually riding the bike across the thing. Maybe this is why people, you know, do athletic stuff.)  

Back on dry land, we needed to get from Fisherman's Wharf to the hotel to get ready for Traci's flight home. We decided to walk again — taking almost the same route as the day before. We had no idea that by choosing one street over we would forgo the relative flatness of the prior day for an enormous, hilly climb. 

By the time we made it back to the hotel, we could barely move. 

Throughout the day, we'd been following the airline news. A power outage in Atlanta resulted in all of Delta's computer systems going down, which then led to the cancellation of hundreds of flights and delays for the rest. 

We were hoping that that everything would work itself out before Traci had to leave, though that seemed unlikely. (I didn't want to make Traci's parents tend our kids for another night, but I was secretly hoping that her flight would be cancelled and we'd have one more night together.)

My wish almost came true. Right as Traci was about to step into the airport shuttle bus, the Delta app dinged and said the flight was delayed two hours. That gave us just enough time to eat dinner in Union Square. Thanks for the bonus time, Delta! 

Day 3

Traci's departure meant that I actually had to start working. I ironed my pants, tucked in my shirt, put on my backpack, and marched off the social media conference like a big boy. 

At the end of the first day of the conference, there was a networking event with hors d'oeuvres and drinks. I skipped it so I could watch baseball. 

Despite being directionally challenged, I was confident that I could find my way to the Oakland Coliseum for the A's game. 

I made it to Oakland without any problems. Sure, it took me three tries to figure out how to print my ticket and I had to ask for help to find the right train, but I was feeling pretty good about my navigation skills. 

Twenty minutes later, I stepped out of the train, bought a ticket from a scalper and headed for the first stadium entrance I could find. 

When I walked in, I realized I hadn't gone in the main entrance. Instead, I was in the concourse behind the suites. And apparently, my scalped ticket gave me access to the Jewish Appreciation Night dinner. The next thing I knew, I was eating a free hummus wrap with some very friendly Jewish folks and listening to a klezmer band.  

(I also stood in line to get a free A's blanket, complete with a Hebrew logo, but my scalped ticket did not include the blanket voucher. Bummer.) 

Pleased with the hospitality and the company, but not satisfied by the hummus, I bought a bratwurst and headed to my seat. Luckily, I had eaten all of it before I realized that I was sitting in the Jewish Appreciation Night section. #ReligiousSensitivityFail

Currently in last place in the division, the A's are not much of fan draw these days. The Jewish section, however, was nearly full. Not only did that mean that I got to sit by a lot of very nice people (the Israeli girl with a piercing on the skin above her teeth shared her peanuts with me) but I made it on the Jumbotron as well. 

The trip back to San Francisco wasn't quite as smooth. Knowing my tendency to get lost, before I left the hotel, I specifically asked the concierge how to get back from the game. 

"Oh, it's easy," she assured me. "All the trains head back to San Francisco." 

False.

I found the station. Sweet. I found my the platform. Yes. Trusting the concierge, I took the first train I saw. I was so proud of my navigation skills, I didn't even bother wondering if I was going the right direction for a few stops. That's when I decided to take a quick look at the map. Nope. Not going the right way. Going the entirely wrong way. 

Knowing I was in trouble, I asked a very nice couple for help. They told me I could just take the next stop and head the other direction. (Rightfully) not trusting myself, I instead rode a few stops further and transferred when they did to make sure I got to the right place. 

BART, you may have won this time. But I'll be back. 

Day 4

After the second day of the conference, I decided to stick a little closer to the hotel. I had a lovely stroll through Chinatown.  

I couldn't resist buying some knockoff Golden State Warriors t-shirts (for the boys) and a solar-powered waving-kitty (for myself).  Then I forced myself to leave because I kind of wanted to buy everything. 

Then, just like that, the trip was over. 

Though it was short, it was great to spend some alone time with Traci. 

It was nice to step away from the office and get a bit of creative fresh air. 

And it was great to wander around the city and find some inspiration. 

I guess I need to get out more. 

The Sutherlands SLEEP in Nature

We're not exactly an outdoorsy family.  ("Not exactly" means not at all.) But Traci decided that we should go to the ward campout. 

Which required us to go camping. 

Despite being an Eagle Scout (thanks, Mom), I have only slept in a tent one time in the last 20 years. Traci has slept in a tent ZERO times in the last 20 years. But she figured when needed to go since Curtis said, "What do you even do when you go camping?"

Luckily, our friends the Bawdens took care of us--tent, sleeping bags, and even an air mattress. 

Watch out nature, here comes the Sutherlands!

We set up the tent, inflated the air mattress, and unrolled the sleeping bags. And then the kids were like, "What now?"

With a little prodding, the kids started playing with the other kids, chucking rocks and turning sticks into swords and going on big adventures. Nature stuff. 

There was also dinner and cobbler and s'mores and all sorts of other deliciousness. 

Nature, maybe you're not so bad after all. 

But the sleeping wasn't so great. Tate likes to steamroll from one side of the tent to the other and Curtis thought the best time to go to the bathroom was at 2:30 a.m. 

Camping, you're a mixed bag. But the kids seem to like you. 

Maybe we could do it more than once than every 20 years. Maybe even once a year. But no promises. 

From the Golden Spike to the Spiral Jetty

Memorial Day seemed as good a reason as any to head north...and then west. 

The goal was to get our Utah history on at the Golden Spike National Historic Site, but with the way things were going in the car ride there—with the constant fighting and Tate eating just about every treat in the car by 9:30 a.m., and then asking, "When's lunch?"—I wasn't sure we were going to make it. 

 

I know my parents took us to Golden Spike when we were kids, but I only have a vague recollection of an old train and some oldy-timey people.

Turns out, there wasn't much more to remember. 

Sutherland Spring Break

Like every other family in the state, we headed south for the kids' spring break. Though we've been to St. George a million times, we've never taken the kids to Zion National Park. 

That fact that fourth graders get into national parks for free was just the kick in the pants we needed. 

The park was crowdddddded. That meant finding a parking spot it Springdale, taking a shuttle bus to the park and then another one up the canyon. Luckily, our kids liked taking the bus as much, if not more fun, than visiting the park itself. (Our hikes are always filled with lots of grumbling.) 

After all of the bus shuttling, we only did one short hike before the kids were complaining and wanting to go to the condo. Still a success by our standards. 

The weather was perfect for hiking in the sun, but pretty chilly for swimming. Luckily, kids never seem care. 

It was a good weekend for Easter egg hunting, bowling, rollerskating, hiking, tennis, and Go Fish. 

And we even ran into some people we know. Sixty percent of the Sutherland clan happened to cross through St. George on Easter Sunday. 

School was out Thursday, Friday, Monday, Tuesday so we took advantage of the cheap Monday night hotel rates in Las Vegas. 

The kids were excited to go to the Hersey's store, but the highlight was supposed to be mega pool at the Mandalay Bay. There was just one problem: it was freezing outside. 

Actually, it wasn't really the cold, it was the wind. With gusts of 40-50 mph, bark was flying off the palm trees like missiles into the pool. The sand from the fake beach was whipping around and pelting us in the head. We withstood the wind, but when it started raining, too, the entire pool emptied out. By the time we made it to our pool chairs, our towels and clothes were completely covered by sand. It was a muddy mess. 

But vacation is vacation. We still had a great time lounging around the hotel and visiting the Lego Store so Curtis could spend the Easter money that he had gotten from Great Grandma. 

And even some wind and rain in Las Vegas was better than the snow back home. 

It's always tough to come back.