You Have Got To Be Kidding

110 degree's is roasting in any circumstances, but when you are driving through the Columbia River Gorge on a sweltering late July day and your air-condition refuses to work, it is even worse. Hot pavement and hot engines raise that temp even more. This past weekend we headed over to Pendleton for my grandparents 70th wedding anniversary. Brittany and Noah were flying in, so we had to stop in Portland to pick them up. Four people and a little guy in a car seat, along with luggage, would just be way to crowded in my little Suzuki, so Shilo decided to drive her own car. She's been wanting to venture out on a road trip and thought this was the perfect chance to do it and not actually be alone on her first one. Good thinking, Milo! I hadn't thought to ask her if her air-conditioning was working, which it was not. E-Gads! A few extra stops were in order for ice cold drinks and a bit of cooling off.
Arlington, Oregon is a small town right on the banks of the Columbia River. They have a beautiful little park with a roped off swimming area and cool green grass where Noah could stretch his little legs. I thought that a bit of wading was in order, the perfect chance for a quick cool-down.




Deeper...

and deeper they go...

until at last, deep as they can go without crossing the pool rope, Shilo, Dustin and Toby splash and carry -on. "Come on, let's go now", yells Mom from her calf-deep wading. The kids and dog splash to shore.

Dustin and Toby wade in...

Shilo comes in last, at which time she begins digging in her pockets. "Where are my keys?", her voice shrill and worried.
"Well, where did you put them?"
"They were in my back pocket."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, because they were irritating me!"
"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING?! You don't leave your keys in your pocket when you're swimming!"
"I wasn't going to go in all the way, but then I did." (I guess in 110 degree weather, people sometimes lose their mind.)
"Guess you need to dive in and start looking." Which she did while Dustin searched her car and I went to the gas station across the street to check. No luck. After an hour of diving and feeling with feet, still no luck. There happens to be several inches of sand in the river at this spot. Those keys may surface sometime, in 100 years or so. Riff was on his way up from his job down out of Bend. He had been about 2 hours behind us, which we had managed to whittle down to an hour now, so I gave him a ring and ask, rather politely, if he could stop by Arlington and rescue his stranded daughter. No prob, Bob! (Of course, after he got the "You have got to be kidding?!" statement out of the way)
Shilo has a spare key, she's just not sure where it is, so Riff called Kevin, who had stayed in Astoria. He went over to her apartment and found the key with no problem. On Sunday, when we were heading home, Kevin drove to The Dalles with the key; we met him there, then turned back around for Arlington, where, thank heavens, the car started right up. We weren't actually sure if it was the right key or not until the moment that the engine turned over. Lesson learned, I hope.


Little man standing on the edge, wishing and wishing that he could go in as deep as his auntie and uncle, until he discovered all the mud-pies right under his silly little toes.

Puppies need to cool off too! Actually Toby didn't really want to go for a swim but just couldn't stand it that his Shilo was out there in that water.

Our Hero! Papa showed up to rescue the stranded travelers. Noah ran to greet him at the steps, then lead the way to where the rest of us were hanging out on the cool grass.

We transfered all of the crap from Shilo's car into the suburban, let the people at the Shell station, who also run the local tow-truck, that we'd be back in a day or two to deal with the Gumby (Shilo's nickname for her car), and off we went to celebrate 70 years of wedded bliss with my Grandparents. One drama quite over for the day.

There is always something happening when you hang with us. Calm and cool we are not.