We busted out of the hot city last weekend and retreated to the thin air of Mount Wanier, as I tend to call it. The initial plan was for dad to put me on my back and head for the summit:

But after a few miles, it became apparent that as a matter of pride, I needed to do this on foot. So with some help from mom, we trekked through the snow fields...

I've been told to enjoy the snow while I still can...

...and up to the top. Sadly, our camera broke at 13,000 feet, so I can't provide the kind of visual proof that some of my more skeptical readers might demand. But trust me. It was spectacular.

My favorite part of being on the trail is regaling random strangers with stories of my summer in Seattle. Here's someone I've never met before, listening raptly as I give her a Socratic colloquium:

Me: And, and, and, did you know we went on a boat? Yes, we went on a boat. And we went through the locks. And there was this green stuff growing on the sides. On the sides of the locks. And it was green, and it was growing on the sides of the locks. And what was it called?
Random stranger: Uh... algae?
Me: Very good! You got it! Algae!

I think these people really appreciate the knowledge I impart on them, as evidenced by the fact that they are a completely captive audience.

After our descent (and several more tutorials to unsuspecting outdoor enthusiasts), we all had a well-deserved weenie roast:

Mom has instructed me not to accompany this picture with any commentary about my present obsession with weiners.

After dinner, daddy took me to a junior ranger talk where a nice lady told us stories about the native people who lived around Mount Wanier before the wheels of global warming were set in motion. At one point, the ranger was asking everyone what animals (whales, bears, etc) were represented in pieces of native art that she was displaying. Sensing another teachable moment, I volunteered. The conversation went like this:

Ranger: Let's call on the little one. What do you see in this picture?
Me: A totem pole! (laughter)
Ranger: Well, yes, but what animal do you see?
Me: A monkey! (more laughter)

I guess the masses aren't quite ready for my cutting-edge theories about the biodiversity in the Pacific Northwest.
The next day, we scaled back our hiking, taking an easier trial to a waterfall where we soaked our feet in a mountain stream:

Just after this picture was taken, I took off all of my clothes and was about to jump into said stream before mom and dad dissuaded me.

Speaking of water, I spent every morning last two weeks at swim lessons... generally a pretty sweet way to start the day:

I know several of my adult male readers are thinking, "How can I also pretend I don't know how to swim?" I'll be happy to teach you when I get back east.

Grandma Lisa and Grandpa Paul just got into town a few days ago-- more soon about their visit... and everything I'm teaching them while they're out here.

A heat wave is sweeping through Seattle. Of course, this means the thermometer has broken 80. Not quite the crap most of you are swimming through back east, but still... enough to make me seek relief:

Mmmm.... I'm a big fan. Heh heh heh... c'mon, I'm three. Cut me some slack.

It's the perfect time of year to head to the beach and bum around in the sun. Oh, and take in some of the sweet beach sports that go on around here:

For some reason, daddy was pretty eager to indulge my request to watch this volleyball game. Who knew he was such a big fan?

Two weekends ago, we went up to Muck Island for the day. Just what is Muck Island, you ask? Well, this is us before the muck...

During...

During...

And after...

As you may be able to tell, I wasn't such a big fan of the muck.

This past weekend, Nate and Jenny came up from California to visit me. We rented a boat with Dr. Larry and Ms. Tara and went cruising around the lakes.

We paused briefly so I could moon Bill Gates (sorry, no picture). I then sat with my main squeeze Jenny for the rest of the trip. As you can tell, Nate was getting a bit jealous and decided to take it out on me:

Don't worry, Nate. You're not the first guy whose woman I've stolen (see last week's post). And you won't be the last.

The other big news is that I can now get dressed all by myself:

First the Elmo undies...

Then the race car pants...

No shirt yet-- I prefer to leave it off so I can work on my tan, especially since it's hitting 90 this weekend. Has it gotten that hot back east? I haven't been checking lately, but 90 sounds pretty hot to me.

Last week, Grandma Nene and Cousin Tommy graced us with their presence. On the bright side, I got some sweet presents and picked idly at some reportedly delicious food. On the flip side, it meant that there were five of us crammed in a small two-bedroom apartment. I got the shortest straw, so I ended up sleeping in mom and dad's closet. (It's agonizing to think that if I had chosen a different straw, I could have had the queen bed and mom and dad would have gotten the closet.) Also, Tommy picked on me like the older brother I'm relieved I never had. I did, however, get some great tips for when it's my turn to be the pissant older brother.

After a day of that, I tried to lure the two of them to the local troll to have them eliminated:

Unfortunately, he was otherwise occupied consuming an entire Volkswagen beetle.

Mom and dad's agenda was somewhat different-- to lure mom's family out to Seattle. The weather helped perpetuate the fraud:

Yeah, this may LOOK nice. But don't be fooled. Hey, maybe we should go check back with the troll...

Far away the pinnacle of the summer was this past weekend, however, when I was chosen (no doubt out of a nationwide pool of applicants) to be the ring-bearer at a local wedding of some schmuck my dad caused trouble with in college. My makeup team got me prepped for this solemn responsibility:

Can you make sure the clip on the tie isn't showing? It's supposed to give the appearance of being a half-windsor knot, you know.

Yes, I was worried about carrying our my essential duties. But my biggest concern was the inevitable fiasco when everyone realized that I was showing up the groom:
Ladies (or men)-- you'll have to wait another 14.5 years for this.

The ceremony went without a hitch, other than the fact that I had a hard time parting with my precious, precious rings. It is fitting that I was named after Elijah Wood from the movie (and Yale like some people have slanderously suggested), as I really was born to be a ring-bearer. It also helped that mom lured me back to my seat with the irresistible taste sensation of blue lollipops:


After a lovely ceremony in which neither bride nor groom chickened out, I brought up the rear of the exiting wedding party. Just to make sure no one was groping each other's butts.

Hey hey, I want to see two pairs of hands!

Oh, and then I stole the bride:


My partying ways have continued since then. This past Tuesday I joined the hordes for some legendary Seattle fireworks...

...and then went to sleep at 11:15 at night. Two nights later, a partner at dad's law firm babysat me while mom and dad went to a firm event. (Pause for a moment and reflect on the huge leap of faith that dad took there. One "goddammit" out of my mouth the whole evening and poof, there goes the offer. I resisted.) At 10:30, when mom and dad came to pick me up, I was still going strong. Apparently my new nickname is Energizer Bunny. Which sounds a little girly to me. I much prefer Energizer Kitty Cat.

Peace out from the Pacific Coast,
Eli