Baby V's Thanksgiving Road Trip

When you're as cute and as popular as Valencia, you garner a lot of attention. You have a lot of admirers. People know you. The byproduct of that level of stardom is that people want to see you. Your fans want to squish your cheeks, hear your cooing voice, and clean your blowout diapers. Fame comes with some serious perks.

As the parents of Valencia (and we've now learned to go by that moniker, hereafter abbreviated as PoV), we did our best this Thanksgiving to facilitate meetings between our celebrity daughter and the people so eager to meet her for the very first time. It took more than 1,500 miles of driving and staying in four different locations, but we did it. They are, in chronological order:

• Aunt Holly
• Uncle Adam
• Cousin Olivia
• Cousin Ruby
• Cousin Sonoma (aka Telesca)
• Aunt Josie
• Uncle Rick
• Cousin Forrest
• PoV's Cousin Daniel
• Aunt Mandy
• Cousin Sadie
• Cousin Jake
• Great Uncle Dan
• Great Aunt Jeanne
• PoV's Cousin Nick
• PoV's Cousin Danielle
• PoV's Cousin James
• 2nd Cousin Cameron
• NY Friends Lynn Hock
• Eddie Hock
• Joseph Hock
• UT Friends Gabe Bush
• Ellen Bush

Vali & Aunt Holly

Vali chilling with her cousins Ruby & Olivia

The one thing I can tell you about Valencia is that she she does not disappoint. If you think she's cute in these pictures, then your heart will skip a beat when you meet her in real life. The people listed above can corroborate. She's an angel straight from heaven, embodied in squishy skin, busy limbs, and a face with seemingly unlimited expressions.

For us, the lowly PoV, it was a great Thanksgiving. Living on the East Coast when most of our family is out West rarely offers us the opportunity to be with so many family at once. In fact, it's never happened in the five and a half years since we moved here. But the stars aligned this year, and we were able to surround ourselves with the people we love on a day that symbolizes the gratitude we feel for our wonderful families and friends.

We are richly blessed. Valencia is a treasure. Celeste is a saint. I am tolerable under most circumstances. Family is forever. How grateful I am for that eternal truth.

The ladies socialize while the gentlemen, well...

Not something we Southerners are accustomed to seeing.

"Another adoring stranger? Better put my game face on."

Vali & Uncle Dan, laughing at the fact that they have the same hair cut.

Mandy flew all the way from Ireland to meet Valencia and be with us for Thanksgiving.

Sadie, Jake, and Merlin. Sadie, the proper lady that she is, couldn't abide Merlin's presence the first time they met. By the time we left, she was racing out the door to give him a farewell hug. #thepowerofmerlin

Jake took no time warming up to Merlin. He got a kick out of hugging and "tickling" him.

The East Coast Olsen/Kidd Crew - Daniel, Mandy, Jake, Forrest, Rick, Josie, Sadie, Merlin, Jack, Les, and Vali

Aunt Josie holding Valencia, getting a whiff of her head, which smells like baby.

Jake & Jack

Close-up of that hat-bootie combo. Ridiculous.

1,500 miles and something like 40+ hours in this carseat, and this is how she looks.

A Merlin Anniversary

One year ago, we strolled into our local Petsmart with the intention of simply stopping by and saying hello to a friend who happened to work there.  We had no intentions of leaving with a pet, but we also had no idea we would be introduced to an adorable puppy we would come to call Merlin.  His amber eyes practically leapt out of his mocha-colored coat and put us under a trance we have yet to wake up from.  He is our surrogate son and a proud member of the Olsen Family.  Here are some of our favorite Merlin memories from the past 12 months:

At the Petsmart

Merlin's First Walk:
Merlin was terrified of everything on his first day with us.  On the drive home he hid on the floor of the backseat, unwilling to let us pet his underbelly.  When we got to the house, he immediately found the most distant and darkest corner closet where he hunkered down and refused to move.  We thought a walk was all he needed to cheer him up and warm him to his new surroundings.  "All dogs love walks," we thought.  We put him on a leash, but he didn't like it.  We literally dragged him out of the house.  The dragging didn't stop when we got to the driveway, or the sidewalk, or the end of the cul-de-sac.  After about 10 minutes of heavy pulling and having Merlin's footpads and nails scrape against the pavement, we returned home, and Merlin found his closet again.

Tired of trying to run away on his first day with us, he collapsed in his favorite closet.

The Sneaky Pooper:
When we got Merlin, we were told by the folks at the Humane Society that he was house-trained.  That was a major selling point for us, both working full-time and too busy to tend to a puppy that couldn't hold his water.  When we brought him home on the first day, we sat on the couch and tried to let Merlin learn the house on his own.  We watched as he kept walking in and out of our bedroom at the end of the hall.  We made several comments to each other at how cute his behavior was, and what joy he was already bringing into our household.  This went on for about a half hour, then a curious smell prompted us to stand up and check the bedroom.  His "cute behavior" had left us with a few dumps and several large wet spots on our carpet.  We learned then that Merlin was not even a little bit house-trained.  What joy indeed.

Call of the Wild:
For as scared of the world as Merlin was (and still is, to some degree), he loves being in the wilderness. Our old house in Wake Forest backed up to hundreds of acres of undeveloped land, and Merlin basked in the romps and the unleashed walks in the forest.

Last Christmas, Celeste spent a week in Utah while Merlin and I stayed home.  During that week, I read Jack London's Call of the Wild (a Christmas present from Celeste), a fitting story of the reciprocal love between dog and owner.  While I would read, Merlin would lay on my lap or sit at my feet.  Then, in breaks between chapters, I would bundle up and the two of us would retreat to the forest, beyond the gaze of any neighbor or sight of any house.  We ran and wrestled and jumped over fallen trees.  I chased him, then he chased me.  At 27 years old and on the verge of earning a master's degree, I never felt so much like a kid, carefree and made happy by an indescribably profound companionship.

The Traveling Pup:
Merlin is a great traveler.  He lays down in his crate and stares up at us with his big puppy-dog eyes from the backseat as we drive him to a far-off destination.  He never barks or whines, whether we drive for one hour or nine.  He's simply content to be with us, and the feeling is mutual.

Merlin's first big trip came last April when we drove to New York for a cousin's wedding.  It was a great trip for him (except that he fell down their steep wooden staircase), and he made a great first impression with the fan.

On the Mid-Hudson River Bridge, Highland, New York

His next vacation was to Virginia Beach where he got to meet my sister Holly and her family, including  her three adorable little girls who showered Merlin with love and attention.  This was Merlin's first trip to the beach, and he showed no fear of the sand or the sea (just bikes and small children).

Three Amigos

The Cuddler:
As childish as it might sound, many of our favorite Merlin Moments have simply been epic family cuddles.  Probably because of his abusive upbringing, Merlin is fiercely loyal and desperately clingy, which makes him a great cuddling companion.  This means that after a long day at work, Merlin is so happy to see us that his tail wags so aggressively that it moves the entire back half of his body.  When we have a moment to relax, he doesn't just sit on our laps.  Oh no.  He cuddles with a pressured lean into your body that can take the air out of your lungs, while he looks longingly up at you with puppy-dog eyes and pupils as big as saucers, as if to say, "LOVE ME!!!"

We do, Merlin.  Here's to many more happy years.

Sun, Sand, and Silly Little Girls

I am twenty-seven years old.  Of this much I am now sure.  Celeste had to remind me of that fact yesterday when I was forking a hefty piece of birthday cake into my mouth, and little Ruby said, “Hey, can I have some of that?” to which I shrewdly replied, “When you’re twenty-eight years old, you can eat all the cake you want.”  Celeste then pointed out that by those standards, I was in clear violation.  I made an amendment to my statement and returned to my cake eating.

Pedaling around on the Boardwalk

It was all part of a wonderful weekend we spent in Virginia Beach with my sister and her family, most notably the three cutest little girls east of the Mississip: Olivia (Viv), Ruby (Rooster), and Sonoma (NomaSo).  It's become something of a tradition for us East-Coast-Olsens to come together while the bulk of the family gathers at significant gravestones dotting the northernmost tip of Utah.  We may be few in numbers out here, but let's face it family, Holly and I were always the life of the party.

Add into the mix that it was little Ruby's birthday over the weekend (it was in fact her birthday cake that I was gatekeeping and consuming), and you have a recipe for lots of squealing, smiling, laughing, crying, and more squealing (and more crying).  The girls were always two steps ahead of us in terms of activities and bright ideas.  Celeste and I hadn't even put our luggage down on our first night before the girls pulled us into a scavenger hunt they had carefully and meticulously planned.  There was ping-pong to be played (Viv and set the WORLD record of 13 consecutive hits in a rally), dice to be rolled, and presents to be opened.  They always had a good reason to be eating candy and a ready response for the words: "Girls, it's bedtime."  I love dem girls.

The Three Amigas

The girls took to Merlin, and Merlin took to the girls.  He's come a long way from being terrified of children (true story) to being their friendly canine companion.

Present time.

Jungle Mini Golf

NomaSo didn't really do much golfing.  After the first hole she gave her ball to her mother and her putter to her father, then spent most of her time playing on the props, getting in the way of our shots, and talking to herself.

Aside from all the pre-tween girly fun, we also made time for more sophisticated activities, like when Adam and I exposed our bare, flour-white chests and jumped in the frigid ocean, or when we lingered in an Arcade for longer than people with college degrees ought.  The whole weekend was an exercise in reconnecting with the youth that we routinely bury beneath hundreds of layers of stress, responsibility, and soul-sucking appointments.  It felt good to let it all out again.  We flew kites, we rented bikes, and we ate enough sugar to make us sick.  At one point I could be seen running (maybe more like prancing) down the Virginia Beach Boardwalk, and Olivia kept calling to me, "Jack, people are looking at you!" 

What's to be embarrassed about?

Showing them how it's done.

I always thought it was tacky and somewhat inhumane when people dressed up their pets.  But that's other people.

Road Trip!

What do you get when you mix together 9 states, 4 city-stops, 3 cases of root beer, 2 star-crossed lovers, 150 Twizzlers, and a Honda Fit?

Road trip, baby!

Celeste and I had the week of the 4th off and decided to take to the open road and visit some of our favorite people and favorite places.

Day 1
After a long day of classes, we shot up I-95 and arrived in Philadelphia just after nightfall.  We stayed with Marcus Anderson and his expectant wife, Candice.  Marcus and I have been friends for as long as we can remember. As he put it, "Your mom used to make me waffles, man."  So true.  So true.  Even though Marcus is a BYU alum and a Romney supporter, I just can't help but love the guy.  We talked, laughed, and reminisced all night.

Just where our country was born...no big whoop.

Day 2
We hit the pavement of Philly and didn't come home until we were ready to collapse.  We did it all.  The Rocky statue/steps (yes, I ran up them like a charging idiot - of course I did), Logan Square, Philadelphia Free Library (we ain't no uncultured swine, y'all), Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and of course, Chinatown.  I bought a wooden katana and a cassette tape of Chu Chin-Yen, a portly Chinese pop-star who looked as though he had been dressed by Tim Burton.  We also treated ourselves to the original Philly Cheesesteak, and let me just say this, folks: Subway's got it all wrong.  That sandwich was otherworldly.  It belongs in the cornucopia of ambrosia along with watermelon, steak, and Big League Chew.

The Rocky Steps

Day 3-4
What would a trip to New England be without a stop in Highland, New York?  We had the pleasure of reconnecting with The Coopers, Celeste's aunt, uncle, and cousins.  Good folk, they are.  We spent a lot of time playing with cameras and photography.  It was while we were in Highland that I took these precious babies:

Mid-Hudson River Bridge, Highland, NY

High Falls, NY

Anopheles quadrimaculatus (a.k.a. mosquito)

Day 5-7
We first visited Boston back in 2010, but back then Boston was Gabe-less and Ellen-less, and therefore only scratched the surface of its true potential.  With Gabe and Ellen Bush in the picture, that city was hotter than a 2-dollar pistol.

We did some traditional stuff like Boston Common and the Freedom Trail, but we also kayaked on the Charles River, saw the new Wes Anderson Film, "Moonrise Kingdom," got a table at the top of the Prudential Building, watched the Boston Pops (apparently that's a big deal, though we didn't know it till we got there), and went to an antique collectible store where I found a sweet RFK campaign button from the '68 presidential election (during which he was assassinated) and sang our favorite songs from high school, classics "Girls Just Wanna' Have Fun", "Scat Man", "I'm Blue", and "Mambo #5".

Atop the Prudential Building, Boston, MA

View of Cambridge from the south bank of the Charles River.

Kayaking the whitewater rapids of the Charles

Yep.

Gabe (Orphus), Ellen (wife of Orphus), and Celeste (wife of Delfidius)

After a crazy night of Mariokart and scary movies, I woke up on my birthday and entered the kitchen where I found a card, platter of donuts, and a root beer from my friends, the Bushes.  The card was addressed to "Scat-Man". I dang near shed a tear it was so beautiful.

Day 8-10
Leaving Boston was only made easy by the fact that we were on our way to see my wonderful sister and her beautiful daughters.  Oh, and she has a husband.  His name is Adam, and he has a mullet.

Now, I'm well acquainted with many beautiful places in this world.  I've seen Paris and been to the Grand Canyon.  I've watched the sun rise and fall over the ocean's distant horizon, and have stood on a mountain a mile-high and seen the world stretch out before me like it would never end.  That said, I would now like to officially add Connecticut to the upper echelon of beautiful places on this earth.

The towns are quaint, the homes swell with colonial allure and antiquity, and the roads are bordered by small stone walls like the kind you'd find in the Irish countryside surrounding potato farms and thatch-roofed cottages.  My sister lives in Mark Twain's carriage house, if you can believe it.  That ole grizzly bear moved to Connecticut and spent the last three years of his life there.  His carriage house is a half mile from the house that he died in, and that's where my sister lives.

On my birthday, we went to one of these magical little towns, so brimming with charm that it spilled into the streets like water from a broken dam.  The place is called Ridgefield.  The beauty was everywhere.  In the old stone church, the local bookstore with the bell above the door that marked your entrance, the ice cream shoppe...it was a big slice of delectable Americana.  Then we found a park and set up a picnic.  A bluegrass band of immeasurable talent danced their fingers upon banjo and mandolin and filled the park air with its frenzied music, and we ate pizza and threw the frisbee around, the way I used to with my dad at Olsen family reunions.

Holly's girls are really something else.  They were so excited for our arrival, that they decorated their driveway and front porch with chalk, then promptly presented us with a menu for lunch and a list of games we could play.  It wasn't long before I had a quesadilla in my belly and was sitting around a small table playing pick-up sticks for the first time since I was in kindergarten.  We played board games, roasted marshmallows, and they also put on a fashion show for us that was, as you can see below, UH-mazing.

Me, Rooster, and Viv.  NomaSo was too busy eating marshmallows to sit for a photo.

Look close at Noma's face.  Preciosa.

L-O-freaking-L

We drove back in a fury, stopping only to eat in Washington D.C. with my brother-in-law Marshall, who's currently interning there before his last year of law school.  He informed us he's thinking of hitchhiking to the ocean before he flies back to Utah.  Carpe diem, Marshall.  Carpe diem.

The End.