First things first-- we made it to Seattle safely. Second things second-- it frickin' rained every stop along the way. Seriously. It rained in the middle of a damn desert. We broke droughts in three different places. It rained on us and not on the other side of the campground. Clearly, someone is trying to get us ready to live in Seattle.

I've tried to provide a sort of photographic log of our trip. To start off, we have the family about to leave the 'chester. As you can see, our car is packed to the limit and primed to get a solid 15 miles per gallon:


I initially recommended that we all go cross-country by means that pollute less and use fewer of our precious fossil fuel resources. This idea was nixed, sadly:


Once we hit the road, I did most of the navigating. It appears from this picture that we were currently driving through New York. Hmm...


I went camping for the very first time in the Badlands. It's a good thing our tent doubled as a Darth Vader costume, because it rained all night:


This is me in the Badlands, right after what will heretofore be known as the Graham Cracker Incident. No big secret-- it basically involved me whining for a full hour about how I had broken a graham cracker into pieces and wanted to put it together again. The episode culminated in mom chucking the crackers out the window of our car onto federally protected land.


Luckily, things turned out OK when we got to Wall Drug, the cure-all for everything:


Next up was Mount Rushmore. I think I'm laughing here because I saw Teddy Roosevelt give Abraham Lincoln a "wet willie":


Later that afternoon, dad and I did a grueling hike through the Black Hills which involved a bit of a rock scramble near the top.


Here's dad and I later that evening, nursing our massive leg wounds incurred during the aforementioned hike: (oh, it rained soon after this)


Next day, we drove to Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming. Wyoming is forevermore the state that smells yucky:


Snow in May-- sweet!


This part smelled somewhat better. I think the federal airfreshener program seems to be working here:


Crud, back to bad smells. As my dad explained, this is where the earth goes to fart:

(as you can tell, it's about to rain)

On to Craters of the Moon in Idaho... soon to be known as Yellowstone II. Ha ha...


We did a bit of spelunking in the lava caves here...

...and back up for air!

Boise was the next stop. After resting for a few minutes, the cousins and I hit the trails:

Monty took the wheel for part of the last leg of the drive (through the rain):

At long last, we arrived in Seattle. We don't move into our dinky apartment for a few days, so this is our temporary digs. Remind me again why we're living in a dinky apartment?


I'm figuring they don't have Pac-Man in our apartment. Seattle is freakin' unbelievable.


More soon as we get settled in. It stopped raining today, so maybe there's hope.

We're hitting the open road the day after tomorrow after a relaxing week in Partytown, USA (nickname: Rochester, Minnesota).

Since getting here, I've been very excited about doing everything in threes, since I am three years old after all. This covers everything from being served three of every food item to (really) squeezing out exactly three turds when I'm on the can. I've also had a great time showing Grandma Nene how well I can talk. In fact, just the other day I informed her that my favorite color was blue, my favorite TV show was Little Einsteins, and my favorite grandma was Grandma Lisa. She was positively glowing!

But you're my favorite grandmother named Nene. That means something, right?

I also took in my first rock concert. My cousin Tom's band, The Futures, performed at the local high school along with some lesser opening acts. The highlight was Tom belting out a cover of Weezer's classic "Say It Ain't So." And that was exactly my feeling when I found out that their set was over. You heard it here first-- this band has a "future"! And I have a future writing vapid blurbs for movie posters.

My parents were trying to get me to either show my devil horns or raise high the goblet of rock. This was merely a one-tongue show, though. A few more gigs and they'll be goblet-worthy.

Once dad arrived, I took him out to the links to teach him a little something:

First off, your pants are way too subtle. And you grip your club like you're gripping a... never mind.

I intend to discover America in the next few days as we visit what dad has informed me are some of our national treasures: Mt. Rushmore, Old Faithful, Wall Drug, and something the French apparently call Le Big Titty Mountains. As someone who missed out on a lot of the breast-feeding craze, I'm pretty psyched.

The flight out to Minnesota was pretty sweet. I've flown a couple of times in the past, but this was the first time I noticed all of the cool buttons and controls on my seat. I've also learned a little bit about parental manipulation, as you can see from this conversation on the plane:

Me: (pointing up) What's that button?
Mommy: That's what you press if you need to talk to the stewardess.
Me: I want to press it!
Mommy: Well, we only press it if there's an emergency.
Me: What's an emergency?
Mommy: It's when something is wrong with you.
(pause for thought)
Me: Mommy, I'm not feeling good well. (coughs)

Now I'm kickin' it in the 'sota for a few days until daddy comes to pick us up and drive us out to Seattle. Ever since we got off the plane, I've been telling mommy that I'm not feeling good well in the hopes that one of those times, she'll let me press the button.

It's been a tough last few days gearing up for departure. First, I had to tie up some loose ends at my last soccer practice. There was the obligatory team photo:

Six kids looking in the same direction-- that's the best you're gonna do.

Then they unleashed all of us for the first official match. It was hard to focus at first, what with all of the grass and dirt:

But eventually I "got into the game," as they say in the erectile dysfunction biz. At the very least, I chased around some of the kids who were chasing the ball.

Frankly, the whole game was a sham. Players were offsides all over the place, parents were blatantly interfering with the players, and where were the out-of-bounds lines? This sport is a joke. I'm a rules guy, and I need my teammates to stay within those rules. As of today, I am declaring myself a free agent, available to the highest bidder.

I'm sort of glad I'll be missing the awards ceremony in two weeks. The self-esteeming of America has gone too far, and I refuse to be party to the doling out of meaningless participation awards to kids who showed up half the time and picked their noses all practice while guys like me were putting in the grunt work, digging up rocks and running in random directions for the whole hour. I say, you need to WORK for your laser-printed certificate.

Next on the agenda, I attended a farm-animal themed birthday for my friend Ari at the Museum of the Frontier Culture in Staunton. I couldn't tell you the slightest thing about how white people lived back in the day, but I can tell you all about what animals got tortured by toddlers back in the day:

Feel my wrath, chicken.

Come back to my birthday pate'... I mean, party!

Watch where you wave those horns, Bessie.

I was somewhat surprised to find these on the Muslim-themed farm.

We listened to Elton John all the way home. The bitch is back, baby!

Most importantly, I had to bid adieu to Monty, who is spending the summer with my friends Henry and Bubba (yes, Bubba) in the back woods of Albemarle County.

There is some concern that Monty will revert to a feral state by the time we reclaim him in August. I'm not too worried, mostly because Monty is basically a wild animal even when he's living with us.

See y'all west of the Mississippi!

Just a word of warning-- you might get a small gap in Eli news coverage in the next few weeks. This Monday, mommy and I fly to Minnesota to visit the Scandinavian side of the family for a week or so. Then daddy is driving out and picking us up on the way out to Seattle. Don't worry-- I'll more than make up for the lull with wall-to-wall road trip coverage, complete with state capitols galore. Until then, stay cool and don't do anything I wouldn't have done 15 years from now.

I had my big check-up the other day-- 3 years or 100,000 miles, whichever comes first. The doctor probed all of my major orfices (ok, not ALL) and jiggled my belly, which tickled. You'll be happy to know that I now weigh in at a whopping 26 pounds. I think I technically should still be facing backwards in my car seat and wearing size-three Pampers based on that figure. Luckily, I more than make up for it in spunk and constant verbal banter. Seriously, I do not shut up anymore. No joke.

My appointment inspired me to start playing doctor with my neighbor Rachel down the street. I've learned pretty quickly on my own, and Rachel is now scheduled for a bunion-removal operation this Saturday. I just need to get to work sharpening my Fisher-Price scissors.