The Flood
December 25th, 2007
Outside the hills are spotted with snow.

"Alright guys, we're in California," Dad says.

"Woo!"

"Yeah!"

"Wait, not yet -" Lilja holds up her hand. We pass the Welcome to California sign. "Now."

The kids cheer.
____________

On December 3rd it rained hard and temperatures in the mountains rose at record rates. The weather man said a flood was coming and at night fall, Joby and Elisha drove down our hill to help sand bag the town.

"Is our coffee shop going to be OK, Dad?"

"It'd have to be really bad for our coffee shop to flood, hon."

Our area has seen flooding before and a serious situation seemed unlikely, but as the night hours passed, we awoke to helicopters roaring overhead. At six, two strangers appeared at our house, looking for Joby. After several phone calls, we learned that at three in the morning Joby had gone to his truck to leave sand bagging and realized he had lost his key. Going back to our friend's house, where he had been helping, he found the dike beginning to breach. Frantically, Joby and our friends tried to repair the holes but after seeing that their efforts were futile, they hurried into the daylight basement to save the dog and to gather valuables. Suddenly, there was a bang. The dike had broken.

Six feet of water burst through the dead bolted door, pushing our friend - who was recovering from surgery - off his feet and into a back room. The force of the water so strong it lifted a piano, but with help from our friend Mark, Joby was able to push through the pressure and pull our friend to safety.

"I think God meant me to loose my keys," Joby told Dad over the phone.

Now, by God's grace, Joby and our friends were safe and settled in a house across town. The rain poured through the dark and helicopters roared overhead, rescuing residents from rooftops as up to ten feet of water rushed into people's homes. Four feet rushed down the road by our coffee shop. Cars floated down the streets. Our county was in a complete state of pandemonium.

As the morning preceded, the rain stopped and the water began to recede. By God's grace, the second local river never breached and by afternoon, we were able to canoe to our coffee shop to assess the situation where (miraculously) we sustained minimal damage. But while we were able to clean up and return to business, over fifteen hundred of our neighbors were devastated, losing their homes, their possessions and their businesses. With tears they relayed their stories - "We have ten feet in our house" "I'm living out of my car" - but with wonderful fortitude they express not only their gratefulness for any help offered but their appreciation for their lives and the lives of their family.

"My family is safe and I am safe," one of our customers said, her eyes welling with tears. "That is all that matters."

A Little Bit of Chaos
November 14th, 2007
This morning Mike, our cello player friend, walked into the kitchen slightly confused. It was full of our family plus six others. He looked at the six others.
"Did you guys all spend the night - or did the whole town came over for breakfast?"
Two days ago Mike and our friends Hanneke Cassel and Christopher Lewis arrived in the midst of the chaos we call life. Immediately they were thrown into our people filled existence; a music workshop in our living room, dinner with twenty four people (we had friends over) and rushing around our house in a pack of a little kids. Now, sitting here in our coffee shop, my body warm and heavy from lack of sleep, I ponder the previous night's activities with hazy contentment. Last night we opened for their show. There were good cookies to eat, good coffee to drink and the place was packed. It couldn't have gone better. Hanneke was simply wonderful, Mike and Chris were awesome and afterwards we converged at our house for a long night of music and potato chips. Mmmm.
This morning as they drove away, I pondered the fact that home was (sadly) going to be a little quieter. We are going to miss those guys.

Updating
October 3rd,2007
I'm back! I am really back and from now on, I will be updating more than than just our performance schedule.

Speaking of updating, I will be catching you up on all that has been going on in our famiy and adding photos from this summer. Speaking of this summer, I have some exciting news (drum roll, please)...

several months ago, Liddy competed in the National Fiddle Competition and won the title of National Young Adult Fiddle Champion.

Yes.

Very exciting.

Weiser Bound
June 15th, 2007

Recently our house has been an aurally harried place. The national fiddle competition (called Weiser) is next week and the kids have been practicing diligently. There is hardly one quiet minute in our house but not only that, the kids' prime practice spot happens to be downstairs, right next to kitchen. They practice in front of th computer along with pre-recorded guitar tracks which they play very loudly. We have grown used to shouting our conversations to each other.
"I am going to be glad when Weiser is over," Joby stated.

"EVERYONE..."
April 9th, 2007

I am sitting crossed legged in the loft of our coffee shop. From downstairs comes the spitting and hissing of milk being steamed and from up here - well, up here I'm listening to a really cool mix of music. I love good music mixes; a bunch of styles and artists smooshed together into one playlist. Sigh. It's heavenly.

Liddy performs her senior recital this Sunday. Everyone (EVERYONE) is invited so you should totally come. The concert will feature solely Liddy (with help from various family members) performing fiddle and vocals pieces (including one original composition). She will also be playing a few classical piano pieces. Betcha didn't know Liddy played piano, huh? But she does and well.

Liddy also holds the titles of Northwest Regional and Western Open Fiddle Champion. In 2005 she placed 2nd at the National Fiddle Competition. She holds the titles of 2002 and 2003 Vocal Representative to the Washington State Music Teacher’s Association Convention (as an 8th grader she beat 60-something high school competitors) and the title of 2007 Piano Representative to the WSTMA Convention.

Yep, she's pretty cool...

The concert will be held this Sunday (April 15th). More info can be found on our schedule.

WANNA SEE A COOL CONCERT?
Saturday. March 10th. 7pm. $12.
Fandrich's Piano. 620 S Tower Ave. Centralia, WA.

Come see four-time Grand National fiddle champions Tristan and Tashina Clarridge and banjo player Ben Krakauer combine their musical talents to create a world class musical experience! Teenage folk vocalist Margaret Glaspy will also be appearing and our family will be the opening band. More info here.


Orange Glow
February 3rd, 2007

We’re all in the van. Outside, fog glows orange around the street lights and inside Staci is telling the little boys to “settle down.” Our entire day was spent in Gaston, Oregon at a fiddle contest. We ate buffalo burgers for dinner (well, some of us ate buffalo burgers for dinner) and watched one and a half movies on a lap top while waiting for the MANY competitors and entertainers to FINALLY complete their rounds and songs.

"Deter, I’m going to pound you; and if you think I’m joking than I best show you.”
Staci has spent way too much time around our family. She yells at my brothers more than I yell at my brothers.

Oooh. One of my favorite songs is playing now but Dad won't turn up the speakers. He can't hear me, I think. He and Elisha are talking fiddle contest politics. Fiddle contests and basketball games; two events which spur Dad to continued conversation.

Elisha just turned it up. Yesssss...
__

"I hope I get 2nd."
Vance was blinking. I wasn't sure I was trackin'.
"You want to get 2nd?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"'Cause."
"You'd rather get 2nd than 1st?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Just because."
I glanced over my shoulder. Vance was sitting in the pilot seat of the mini van. Alright.

__

Vance placed 2nd.


Ode to Brice
by Liddy Grace Voetberg, February 3rd, 2007

When did the Brice’s voice become the voice of the Voetberg family? Why is it that no one questions or enquires of the other eleven Voetberg perspectives? Because she is just so good at it. Brice has within her the capability to transform her random and incoherent thoughts into complete, witty commentary. Brice has the outstanding ability to, without inhibition, talk about anything and everything. With this Brice has discretion and genuine transparency. I am writing this because I was thinking about how great it would be for all the people out there to hear something from the “younger yet not so funnier” little sister. In an effort to make myself known I have concluded that I am not cut out for the job. There is a reason I don’t write and Brice does. So this is an ode to Brice because, well, because she is just so cool. Why would you want to hear from me when you could hear from Brice? In conclusion, I strive to be more like Brice in well, everyway. Until then I will leave the journal writing to the older, wiser, and sometimes even endearingly ditsy sister.

A Family (Golf) Feud
December 30th, 2006

Two months ago, Grandpa decided that he was going to be a golfer. So moving to his and Grandma's winter home, he began to practice and take lessons.
"There's no way he can become a decent golfer in two months," Uncle Drew said to Dad.
It was Christmas and they were sitting in the living room, surrounded by presents and little kids. The fact was, Grandpa had never had any golf experience - except for some hacking rounds on a desert course. And now he said he was going to beat Joby and Elisha - and even challenge Dad. It was unfeasible.

Yesterday, Elisha, Joby, Dad and Grandpa gathered their clubs, putting on their collared shirts.

"Show your grandsons up, honey," Grandma said, giving Grandpa a hug as he headed out the door.
"Yeah, go show your grandsons up, Grandpa," I said, then added, "Maybe."

Four hours later I called Dad.
"Hey, Dad, where are you at?"
"We're on the last hole, honey."
"OK, cool. Well dinner's ready."
"Alright hon, sounds good. Joby just broke a window on an RV so I had better go see what's up."
He said it in one calm sentence.

Thirty minutes later, all four of them walked through the door; Elisha, Joby, Dad and Grandpa.
"Well, Grandpa humbled his grandsons," Dad said.
No way.
The unfeasible had become possible; Grandpa had become a legitimate golfer.

During dinner, they rehashed each hole, giving each other credit as credit was due.
"It has to be pretty humbling to be a young guy like you and get beat by an old seventy year old like me," Grandpa said.
There was compassion in his voice and Joby said a slow “Yeeeah.” It was probably fitting that he had finished the day by breaking a window.
"It's not gonna end like this, though."
Joby dug into his baked potato. He was smiling but there was an edge of seriousness in his voice that Grandpa understood.
"I know," Grandpa chuckled, shaking his head. "I know."

The Freaky Sea of Salt
December 29th, 2006

I am wet. I'm in my swimsuit, actually, sitting here inside an empty conference room of a desert resort. There is internet access here, so I am taking this time to check our e-mail. Outside, my family is splashing in the pool and hot tubs. My grandparents own a little winter house at the bottom of this hill, surrounded by palm trees and flanked by a golf course. They also own an RV which is parked on a hill, looking out to the surrounding mountains. Mom and Dad and the kids are staying there and we older ones are staying in Grandma and Grandpa's house. Life is good.

Tomorrow we perform at a charming, ghetto RV park which sits near the ghostly, not so charming Salton Sea. Have you ever been to the Salton Sea? Yeah, I thought not. The Salton Sea is eerie. It's an enormous, lonely, stinky, body of water so filled with salt that it is hardly inhabited by even small animals. There are no boats, no houses lining the shores, no people, and no ducks. But yet the waters stretch far into the barren horizon. It's freaky.

Underwear
December 23rd, 2006

All of us, except Elisha, got underwear for Christmas this morning. He was kind of bummed.
"Aunt Leah," Elisha wadded up his gift wrappings. "Everyone got underwear except for me."
"What? Elisha - I didn't get you underwear?"
"Well, I got some nice socks..."
Aunt Leah is an angel. She buys a pile of gifts for every single one of us. Several years ago, our larger family (most people call it 'extended family') and immediate family decided to downsize the materialism of Christmas - in order to reduce current and future stress. Everyone complied except for Aunt Leah. Aunt Leah loves buying gifts - and not just underwear... oh no, not just underwear. She's just cool that way.

Aunt Leah and Uncle Drew are both cool that way. In fact, they are cool in more than that way. Among other things, they both are actively involved in volunteering for Special Olympics and in loving special needs kids. Aunt Leah has coached Special Ed sports teams and even spear headed a special needs day camp. Right now, I'm sitting in their living room across from a kid named Quentin. Quentin celebrated Christmas with us this morning. He is 17 and is disabled; he has spent his life in foster homes. Quentin can't even go to the bathroom by himself but he is so happy. Currently he lives with an elderly couple and Aunt Leah and Uncle Drew have sort of adopted him on the side, picking him up and letting him hang out with their family.

This morning the living room was chaotic. Wrapping paper and kids were everywhere and Max, my cousin, was barking and muttering in his deep, chesty voice. Max is Aunt Leah and Uncle Drew's oldest son and he is also mentally disabled. He is strong and active, but he has the mind of a five year old in the body of a nineteen year old. He is an irreplaceable part of our family.

Quentin sat in his wheel chair, painstakingly unwrapping gifts. Finally, the ruckus was over, but there was one small present left under the tree.
"Quentin - this has your name on it."
"What?" Quentin lifted one of his hands in question.
My cousin Luke handed it to him.
"Yeah, it has your name on it."
"It's underwear," Elisha said.
"Nu-huh, it's socks," Tucker grinned.
"Here Quentin, open it."
Everyone gathered around and he began to peel off the wrapping, one tiny strip at a time.
Uncle Drew and my cousin Luke exchanged winks.
"Yep, it's underwear."
"No, it's definitely socks."
Rudy's nose was up against the wrapping paper.
"It's an iPOD!" He exclaimed.
"Rudy!" Annie gave him a little shove.

Finally all the wrapping was gone and Quentin held it up with his twisted arm; it was an iPOD.

Special needs kids are a gift. They display qualities of love, joy, contentment, trust and kindness in such a way that able bodied and able minded people could never show. Revealing the true character of those around them, they shape the lives of the people they touch, immediately giving life perspective.

Seven Minutes
December 14th

Well, I'm back in the old, leather 50's style chair and I'm listening the chatter of my cousins and my siblings. We just finished our last history class of the year.
"Welp, guys," I said. "We don't have class 'till next year."
"Next year?"
My cousin Clancy's jaw dropped.
"Next year? Next year?"
Yes, Clancy, next year.

I begin teaching piano in seven minutes, but until then I wanted to let you know that I updated the photos in the On Stage album. There have also been the makings of a new essay brewing in my head.

Fish
I just wrote that because it makes a nice title
December 7th, 2006

I can hear traffic rolling by which is indicative of the fact that I am definitely not writing this from my house considering that we do not have traffic rolling by our windows. We don't have any traffic - well not any vehicle traffic, that is. We have tons of people traffic.

Friday night we drove home from our collaborative concert in a caravan. I was with two friends and as we pulled to the top of our driveway there suddenly appeared a tall, dark figure, looming in the fog. Liddy, equally mystified, stopped in front of us. She was driving the mini van.

"What in the world -"
"Who is that?"
"What is going on? Who is --"

Suddenly I stuck my head out the window and started shouting like an adolescent twelve year old.

"Simon! It's Simon! Si-mon!"

Simon is our hammered dulcimer friend. We hadn't seen him for months and he was now at our house, unannounced -- and standing in our driveway.

At about midnight, our friends Tristan and Tashina plus Simon pulled out their instruments and played for four hours. There were about fifteen of us and we listened, lying on the floor in a cuddle puddle. The music was too beautiful for words.
"Welp, we've all just died and gone to heaven."

It was wonderful having Tristan and Tashina with us all weekend. They are always a blessing to our home. Margaret came too and she is just a walking and talking bundle of good times. And she's super wonderful and when she left I was saying "dude" because she says it all the time.
_

I told our friend Sam that I'd find a way of mentioning salmon fishing the next time I posted a journal entry. Sam owns a fishing charter company in Canada, see. It's called Salmon Eye Charters. I've never gone salmon fishing - wait - actually, I have, but I've never gone salmon fishing in Canada but if I did I would definitely hire Sam to bring me out to find the fish. He even has a website (this is big stuff, folks) and so click here if you need a great, Canadian, salmon fishing guide.
_

Dude; I really need to put Tristan and Tashina on a Special Thanks page. I haven't updated that thing in forever and there are a whole handful of new music mentors that we need to thank. I will do that. Sometime. But not tonight.

Beef Soup
November 14th, 2006

Well, I'm not overly caffeinated this time so you can read this at a much slower pace (see previous entry). I'm sitting on an old, leather, 50s style chair, waiting for a bowl of soup to cool. I figured I should write some.

Our Home Town Concert is on Sunday. We call it our Home Town Concert 'cause it's in our home town. Aren't you glad I clarified that?

I'm actually not just waiting for my soup to cool. I am also waiting for my uncle Michel to show up to give me French lessons. Uncle Michel is Swiss and he comes from the French speaking portion of Switzerland. Pretty interesting, I know.

You know, I think I'm funnier on caffeine.


This is Brice. This is Brice on Caffeine.
October 28th, 2006

I don't think I'm gonna sleep for like two days. Really. We were just at Coffee Fest Seattle and it's a good thing we left when we did because I was talking so fast that I couldn't enunciate. Not that I normally enunciate.
They have free coffee EVERYWHERE and I'm not going to tell you how many shots I downed.
It's not because I drank a lot, though. It's because I downed well... not that many. I just had little sips of a lot. But a whole bunch of little sips of a lot of different espresso blends is enough to send my caffeine sensitive self over the edge. Someone said it's because I'm not that big of a person. I think they just said that because they liked the fact that they looked down at me.

I enjoy coffee (the real, straight, non sugared, non milked coffee) to almost the fullest degree of the word, but I enjoy quality, not quantity. In fact, I'm opposed to quantity. I'm not big on the idea of dying at the age of twenty from a caffeine induced heart attack. Plus a difficulty with enunciation definitely hinders any chance of exuding an aura of intelligence. In fact, too much caffeine probably gives me Valley Girl slash Alvin and the Chipmunks tendencies.
Ugh.

You know, I think the mood of this entry is better conveyed if read in fast-forward.

So Dad and Elisha and I are driving in the mini van. I've hardly talked the entire trip because I decided it was better for me to shut up until all the caffeine I've consumed works it's way entirely out of my system. Instead I've been engrossed in Barista Magazine. Man I'm inspired. Real baristas are freakin' nerds. You need to be fully knowledgeable in order to rub shoulders with them. And I'm going to become fully knowledgeable. Well. Maybe partly knowledgeable. Then maybe I could partly rub shoulders. I should get some piercings, too. Maybe chop off all my hair and get some David Shomar tattoos.
Yeah, I didn't know who David Shomar was either. Not until a few months ago, that is. He's like THEE coffee guy. Well, one of them. And he writes really deep and soulful articles about latte art. Deep and soulful. Baristas seem to be deep and soulful. Or artsy. Yeah, that's a word. Artsy. At least from what I've gathered from Barista Magazine. You know, I'm gonna strive to ultimate excellence for EVERY cup of coffee I serve at Cuppa Joe. Note ultimate. It's not just excellence I'm talking about here - it's ultimate excellence.

Welp. All my words are gone. There they are - they're all up there. I'm spent. Dried up.

You know, if I'm going to strive for ultimate excellence as a barista I should probably strive for becoming immune to caffeine or something.

From the Blue Bench
October 20th, 2006

So I've just decided to write whenever I think of it and not worry about perfection. It's overrated.

Hodges and I are sitting here at the Western Open fiddle competition, listening to people compete. Hodges is one of our fiddle friends. He's eight and he was the National Small Fry Fiddle Champion this year at Weiser. He's a really sweet kid and I think he's going on stage in a second.

We're sitting on a blue bench. It's the weirdest color of blue.

Last night we girls stayed in a hotel room all by ourselves. All five of us by ourselves, I mean. It was Liddy, Annie, Lilja, me and our good friend, Staci. Staci is the one who voluntarily submits all the obnoxiously funny guestbook entries. She's awesome.

The sound man just walked by. He is our fiddle contest friend, too. He thinks we're Mormon. We've seen him here at this contest for the past five years and we talk to him every year. He never asked if we were Mormon, he just assumed it. I think we cleared it up last year, but he still likes us.

The man with the clip board came and got Hodges.

Oh hey, Staci wants to say something:

Bonjour. Brice and I are learning French. Which is why I began said greeting with such a word. But that seems rather inconsequential.

The weather here is beautiful. The wind is lush and the sun is warm; a fact that I suppose isn't uncommon seeing as how we're in California and all.

I am grateful to be here. When I'm with the V's I become a part of the family(which has nothing to do with the rumor that I am betrothed to marry Joby...well...actually...); complete with little boy duties and helping to unclog the toilet in our hotel room.(A feat which was accomplished once last night and awaits us again later this afternoon. I won't say who did it. Ahem. It wasn't me though.)

Brice has had a few moments of sheer deliriousness; an emotional state she undergoes rarely that involves heavy laughter and really ridiculous self-portraits on my digital camera, a sign of fatigue and giddiness. I love when Brice gets like that. Well, for the first couple of minutes, I love it, then it gets strange. But I'm pretty lucky to be able to experience it.

The Pee Wee kids are playing now. I better watch. There's something cruelly intriguing about watching these five year old kids hack their way through such well-known fiddle songs. It's like a train wreck. But cuter.Thanks for reading, even though I'm not a Voetberg. I'm working on it. Ciao.

Well. There you have it.

I Wanted to Write a Good One...
October 16th, 2006

Well I've been wanting to write a really good journal entry for about the past month, therefore I haven't written any. So I just decided to get over it and write.

I am so spacey right now.

We leave for CA early Thursday AM. Until then I will be doing my laundry - or OUR laundry. We girls have only legit-ly done ALL our laundry once in the past month. Or something like that. The pile in our closet is about three feet thick.

We did two shows over the weekend, which were both fun. Oh; we stayed at this cool house with nine rooms and met these cool people.

This is so lame. Whatever. I'm going to the grocery store.

Sitting in a Volvo
September 5th, 2006

Joby's Volvo is parked at Cuppa Joe - our large, drive -thru coffee shop situated here in Centralia, Washington. The door is open, filling the car with the gentle noise of small town traffic and I am sitting in the front seat with my lap top, the wind blowing thru my hair.

Across the grass I see Dad, standing on top of a ladder while adjusting the reader board letters: VOETBERG FAMILY CONCERT HERE.

Yep.

The concert is this Saturday and it's gonna be a party (one of those non alcoholic ones). We're expecting you here.

Check out our Cuppa Joe Myspace at www.myspace.com/cuppajoe06. Once there, you can meet our employees, check out photos of what is happening and leave a comment or two. Oh, and you can be our friend. Really.

Cuppa Joe is like our second home. We spend WAY too much time here. We voluntarily spend way too much time here. Our employees hang out here, too, even when they're not working. And it's not even in a sit- in shop. It's just a drive thru.

The Volvo just left. I'm sitting on the grass.

Little Kid Fundraising
August 14th

A lady pulled up to our coffee shop window, glancing in her side view mirrors.
"What are they raising money for?"
Annie, Lilja, Tucker, Deter, Vance and Rudy were crowded on the tiny front lawn of the shop, jumping up and down with signs in their hands. They were big, messy, colorful LEMON-ADE signs.
"I don't even know," I laughed, filling a portafilter with coffee grounds, "you should ask them."
The lady stuck her head out her window.
"A pool!" they said.
A little later, Joby picked me up from work. The little kids were still jumping up and down in the front yard.

"Why are the kids always trying to make money?" he exclaimed. "We never did that when we were kids."
"We didn't even know how - there was nothing we wanted." I said. "They're just more motivated than we ever were- they're just more high powered than we were." I laughed and Joby chuckled.

When the six little kids were introduced to Love Sacs - monster sized bean bags large enough to seat our entire family - they were determined to get one for their Chill Room. Yeah, they took over our spare room about a month ago, filling it with crafts and decorations. They hung their tennis rackets on the walls and propped their long boards against walls and said "It's The Chill Room."

So they hung posters on the fridge in the shop. "Fundraiser. Concert and food. 7 o' clock." The only people who see the fridge in our shop are our employees - nine young, very cool, very generous employees. And the fundraiser was set (conveniently) to happen at our house, one half hour before our Cuppa Joe employee meeting.

Annie and Lilja wrote out a set list and ran practice sessions all week - "Tucker, Deter, Vance - Ruuuudy - git in here - we need to practice!"

There's now a Love Sac in their Chill Room.

Smoke and Stuff
August 8th

Nine days ago we wound along the mountain roads of Santiam Pass. Running water sparkled in the ravines, through the scrubby pines that lined the highway. Over the mountains rose a dirty mass of smoke. It was a massive forest fire.
"There it is, guys," Dad pointed.
When we arrived at our condos there was a haze hanging in the sky, burning the sun a brilliant red. All week hundreds of fire fighters camped next to the church building where camp (the Booher Family Music Camp) was held. It was quite the dramatic addition to the week. Thankfully, we never had to evacuate and the smoke gradually dissipated. By the end of the week the sky was blue and the four Sisters mountains appeared on the horizon.

The first night of camp we met Hanneke Cassel, who was also teaching at camp. She piled in the van with us, uninhibited by all the little faces and fiddle cases and we drove her back and forth from to camp all week. Liddy and I shared a room with her and pretty much missed her a lot when she left. You should check out her website! Click here to see it and buy her newest CD, Silver! Also, check out her touring schedule!

OK, so camp was way fun. There were a million of the sweetest people there including, of course, our very good friends the Boohers. I've updated the photos on our Photos page too.

Rudy and I are sitting in Grandma's living room watching Play House Disney. My feet are cold and I'm waiting for Liddy to bring me lunch. You know, some of these Play House Disney shows are a little disturbing. There was this one about three people who had painted faces and these freaky costumes. They were grown adults - dancing around and singing. I was like "Hey um Rudes - don't you want to watch something else?"

Sitting on the Floor
July 28th
Yeah, I'm sitting on the floor as I write. I'm actually sitting on the floor of our coffee shop (Cuppa Joe). It's white tile and as we mopped every evening for about one month and a half after we opened Dad was always like "WHY did I put white tile in here." Anyway. You don't care about our tile. Just thought I would write a little note and let you know we're all still alive and well. We haven't been raptured up or anything since yesterday. We have a concert tonight in Hoods Port and then another one tomorrow at our grandma and grandpa's marina. Then we head to the Booher Family Music camp - woo hoo!

July 27th
Hey my friends! Just wanted to let you know that I've been keeping up with our schedule and updating it frequently - come see one of our shows! I also updated our musical bio on our Who We Are page, I updated our Cuppa Joe "Come visit us!" link, I updated Liddy's bio a bit ago, I updated um our Good Times album on our Photos page and I think that's about it. There are probably some others thingys that are new, but I can't remember. I'm trying to do better at keeping the little details together.
OK.
So. I need to go to Wal Mart now and get a flash drive and stuff for next week's time at the Booher's camp. I need to get all my papers together for the class I'm teaching. Oh, and if you think of it, sign our guestbook. ( =

Coffee Run
July 17th, 2006
Yesterday morning the sky was blue, the sun was new and I was standing in the bathroom, brushing my teeth.
"Coffee run!" Dad shouted.
We older kids had just returned from a camping trip and most of us were just crawling out of bed. I hadn't showered in two days, so I stuck my hair in braids and threw on a sweatshirt. We rode into town and got coffee (at Cuppa Joe) and doughnuts (at Fuller's - they have the BEST doughnuts.) Summer is wonderful.

A Weiser Night
June 22nd, 2006
The air smelled of cigarette smoke and beer. Overhead the Idaho sky stretched wide and starry and Liddy, Elisha and I were standing with our friend, Trevor, at the edge of a group of campers.

"There are no social norms in Weiser," Trevor was saying to Elisha."Only in Weiser would a whole bunch of people be crowded in a stranger's campsite."

Laughter and hoots filled the air, while shining in the light of a lone lamp, hung a hand painted sign: The Miniature Masters. Two guitar players, hauling on two tiny, outrageously toneless guitars stood in front of the sign, backing up a fully grown fiddler, playing on an equally tiny and out of tune fiddle. Four judges, sitting at a card table, scanned the crowd, yelling out names. It was an sort of invitation only event - "Would so and so please report!" - they yelled. Many of the competitors were seasoned, world class fiddlers - world class fiddlers screeching and sawing and playing out of tune on a kid's size fiddle. It was ridiculously entertaining.

"Liddy Voetberg!" the judges shouted.

The guitarists were ready, plinking their miniature guitars in anticipation. Liddy waded through the crowd. She eyed the little fiddle, tuned it, played a hoedown and then we left - "I am going to put on pajamas," Liddy said.

It was around midnight. We found Joby and our friends, Brandon and Cate, were settled in front of our tents with Joby's laptop. They were watching The Village.

"You're at Weiser and you're watching a movie," I laughed. Yep. They were. Cate had stated earlier during that week that she was "sick of fiddle music." Trevor ran up to say that Liddy had made the second round. Liddy was falling all over in the tent, trying to find her pajamas in the dark - "I'm putting on my pajamas."

Just A Little Weiser Dust
June 20th, 2006
The ruckus of fiddles and guitars presses against my ears. I’m sitting in the warm up room at the national fiddle competition, waiting for the photos on our camera card to download onto my lap top. The rest of my family disappeared. I think they’re outside finding our camping spot.

Later.

Well, that would have been a nice journal entry except I didn't feel like writing any more. It's night now, my feet are covered with Weiser dust and hopefully I'm more tan than I was this morning. Day One of the National Fiddle Competition in Weiser, Idaho is complete. The competition is week long with different age and level divisions spread throughout the days and today Deter and Vance competed. There were fifty-something kids in their divison and fourteen (including Deter) made it to the second round. Tomorrow is another wonderful day of fiddling and tonight is a night for sleeping.

That sounds like something Dad would say. Oh well, that's cool; I like Dad. Good night!

Explanation and Anticipation
May 11th, 2006

I’m sitting here with my laptop on – well, my lap. The sound of wind rushing by the open windows is filling the car. The sky is blue and wide and Joby and I and two of our very best friends are driving down I-5, headed home. Mom and Vance and Rudy are waiting for us, but Dad and all the rest of the kids are currently in Idaho at a fiddle contest.

I haven’t written in forever because my editing software has been down. Our friend Devin updated the schedule for me (check out his business at www.sweckercreative.com) but that’s it. But now I’m back. And I have access to wireless and I have all our files here – on my computer. I won’t have to vie for time on our family computer - Liddy, Elisha Annie, Lilja, Tucker and Deter use it to play their fiddle back-up tracks when they are practicing for a fiddle contests – AND I won’t have to wait and wait and wait for new photos and files to upload.

Dad called Joby yesterday with the contest report.
“Deter won?” I heard Joby say.
I gave a proud big sister squeal/scream –
“Aw – that is so good!”
The contest is a sort of prep for Weiser - the national fiddle competition – and Deter’s never won a contest before.
“Lilja won too?” Joby asked.
I beamed.
“And Tucker got 4th?”
Joby got off the phone
“Dad was saying that Deter’s going to be hard to live with for awhile,” he said. We all laughed.
I was very excited for all of them. I called and talked to Deter a little later as we were shopping.
“Deter!” I exclaimed, walking along the sun splattered outlets, “I heard you won – congratulations!”
“Yeah,” he said “and I tied with the girl who got second and then we had to have a play-off and I won!” Oh Dete…

Today Liddy and Elisha and Annie finish competing in their divisions. I’m watching the clock and waiting for them to call.

As soon as I can I am going to revamp our photo section.

P.S. It’s Monday now and Liddy placed 3rd in Open and Elisha won his division.

An Article...
February 6th, 2006
So our dad is a logger and this month the national Timber Harvesting magazine published an article about our family. If you know us well or have read our website, you will find that a few facts are off, but that only helps to add an entertaining element. Jennifer McCary did a wonderful job. Click here to read it.

A Bit of Music
January 4th, 2006
Outside the sky is turning gray with twilight. The dryer is humming and clicking and in the living room Liddy and our friend Ben are playing the banjo.

Two days ago our friends Tristan and Tashina Clarridge and Ben Krakauer came to visit. They performed a couple house concerts and they leave this afternoon but until then, Liddy is making use of this time to fulfill her secret dream of becoming a banjo player. For the past two hours Ben has been sitting across from her on the couch, patiently teaching and picking along. Man. How patient can a guy be? Liddy's been playing nothing but C, G, C, G, C, G, C, G...

We've been surrounded by some wonderful music and some wonderful people these past couple days... and since I am obviously either lacking time or words to elaborate (you can decided which it is - time or words) - you can click here for photos. Smile. There - that works for now.

P.S. Uh hey; have you seen that I have finally updated a couple of our bios?

Coffee, A Family Meeting and Dad's Bass
Decmber 9th, 2005
The traffic on I-5 flew by wildy. Overhead the sky stretched blue and one block away, under a newly hung sign, we stood in our new drive-through coffee shop.
"This is SO COOL!" I said (for the third time). "I cannot get over this!"

Sigh. Our old drive-through shop was tiny in comparison. We had no running water (it was self contained), no ice machine and a sink no bigger than a shoe box. The gutters were bent and twisted and every corner of the building was worn with years of use. Sigh.

Outside, Lilja and Annie, dressed in their performance clothes, struggled to arrange letters on the reader board. W-E-A-R-E-O-P-E-N.

Yep.

"Cuppa Joe." That's our new name. We're located in Centralia, Washington right on Interstate 5 at Exit 81. You should come visit us. We strive for a perfectly smooth, consistent cup of coffee. Plus, Liddy and I are dedicated baristas... well, Liddy's a dedicated barista... ... I just like to talk to people.

This morning we had a family meeting. Once gathered, we were all silent for a moment, gazing at each other. Dad smiled.
"It's been awhile since we've all sat down as a family, hasn't it?"

Our family plays and performs music, but more fills our schedule than the shows that appear on our website. We talked about the performances of the day before, about the weekend ahead and about the night's activities - "Joby has a basketball game tonight and Liddy has a piano recital."

"We're now in one of the craziest times - actually, it is the craziest time of our lives," Dad said. "We now have adult children's schedules to work around (…that would be Joby and I…), we have little ones to look after, we have a coffee shop we're trying to open, we have family (music) practices and performances, we have basketball games that we're chasing around to (Joby, Elisha, Annie and Lilja all play)… holiday preparations…"
"It's a good thing, though," said Mom.
"Yes, it is," said Dad.

____

Last month we ordered a bass. It arrived the week of our home town concert. "Dad," we said, "you are going play with us with weekend on our first song." So we began to teach him. "Get some stickers!" someone hollered. We marked his notes on the finger board and then watched him with confidence; Dad may not be able to carry a tune, but he has a natural and accurate sense of rythm.

Another Yawn
Nov. 15th, 2005

"Ruuuudy, you have to come practice with us!"
Rudy was sitting at the dining room table, grinning from behind a cup of apple cider.
"Mommmy said I tould dwink this and then I tould practice," he said.
This morning, we kids were practicing for our home town concert. Rudy had decided to take a break.
"Oh but Rudy," I pleaded, smiling, "you are a part of the band - we need you - come on!"
Rudy grinned and wiggled.
"Mommy said," he insisted.

We have been practicing frequently. We are all motivated by this weekend's home town concert.

...I have not written because between completing our album and finishing our coffee shop and our normal life of family, music, school, friends, traveling and basketball, we have had an extremely busy autumn. Yawn. It seems as though I have written several journal entries while I am sleepy. Yawn. I might as well continue in the traditional. G'night.



Early to Rise, Early to Bed
September 21st, 2005

Slumped in front of the computer, with sleep-heavy eyes, I thought "I should write a journal entry." That was this morning - at 5am. A few moments later, I looked at the clock. I had read my Bible and had been writing e-mails. Darn. Fifty-seven minutes had passed.

"Brice," Liddy walked in from the living room.
"Are you going to shower before Annie and Elisha?"
So I had to shower.
We began our fall schedule on Monday. We've been waking up early and it feels good, to a certain extent, to wake up early.

It is night time now. Joby, Liddy and I just got home from a recording session. Liddy bought wheaties on our way home and now she's straddling one of the kitchen benches. Wheaties and soymilk. Mmmm....

We are building a brand new coffee shop building to replace our old one! So, folks, if you happen to be traveling I-5 between Seattle and Portland, stop by our coffee shop at Exit 81 for a cup of Joe. Our new building will be up and functioning by December, but until then, you can patronize our old one, which is also at Exit 81.

To all our web visitors from around the country: HELLO, EVERYONE! I would like to be able to update more frequently - photos and music clips and all - but our internet connection is pretty darn slow out here in the sticks. We're waiting for wireless or cable to become available... any time, now, Mr. Web Men... any time...

I just realized the Monday was yesterday. Maaaan... that seems like a long time ago. It's the scheduling, I'm sure. I need to sleep.

Our thoughts and prayers are with the victims of Katrina and Rita... God's peace and comfort be with you.

...Totally OK
August 17th, 2005

My feet are on the desk. The dryer is running and Crooked Still is playing through the speakers. It's a lovely, normal afternoon. Normal afternoons consist of laundry, cleaning the kitchen, watching the kids play, practicing music - etc. They consists of doing nothing extraordinary, but everything comfortingly ordinary. We've only had a few normal afternoons this past month.

We have two friends living with us this week. One of them is lying on the couch across from me. Her name is Cate. Cate and I have just baked a couple dozen muffins and now the little ones are climbing all over the couch - and all over Cate. She is laughing.

Liddy is sitting next to me, rocking back and forth on our rocking tiger, hitting her head against my arm. She is up now.

"Brice, we have to go."

We girls and Cate are going to visit Grandma Voetberg. After that, we'll come home, eat, pack and then our family (plus our two friends) will leave for Hood Canal. Simple times are good and so are busy times. The next few days we'll be gone, but (as you might have already guessed), we think that is... totally OK.

July the Fifteenth
July 2nd - July 15th

I'm in the car now - Grandma's car. The sky is vastly blue and Liddy is driving. For the last few hours I've been digesting the past week. Except for a six hour sleep stop, Liddy and Elisha and I haven't been home since July 2nd. So I guess I have more than a week to think over.

July 2nd found our family leaving for Aunty Leah's and a whole weekend of red, white and blue. Two nights later, we tucked the little ones in bed. From Aunt Leah's loft we could see Puget Sound, dark and oily, bordered by fireworks.
I went to each of my six littlest siblings and gave them a hug and a kiss. Their heads were ratted with red and blue paint.

"Bye Bwicie," they said.

Dad, Mom, Joby, Liddy, Elisha and I were due in Sacramento the following night and -
"We'll just leave now," Dad said. "We'll get home at about two, sleep and pull our bags together and then leave. We should be in Sacramento at about 8."

And that's what we did.

The next evening, after our stop at home and thirteen hours on the road, we were in down town Sacramento, California.

For several days in July, the Sacramento convention center is home to the west coast Advanced Training Institute International (ATII) conference. ATII is, among other things, a Bible-based home schooling curriculum and support group - of which we are apart. And we were there to listen to inspiring speakers.

After four nights in Sacramento, we packed in our mini van and headed back north. It was Saturday. Grandma had left home that morning, driving to meet us in Mt. Shasta where Mom and Dad and Joby were dropping us three off; it was to be our home for the week.

See, our friends - Tristan and Tashina Clarridge - had invited us to hang out and learn music with them and their friends. A week of hanging out with fun and friendly people. A week of outstanding musical exposure. And it all was to be held in the town of Mt. Shasta. The bea-yew-tiful town of Mt. Shasta.

Wednesday afternoon I fell asleep on the floor. I had had entered the week as a guardian/student. Outside the pine trees flickered with sunlight and as I dosed, I listened as Jeremy Kittel taught the advanced fiddle class. I am not a practiced fiddle player, but music is a universal language and so I absorbed the rythmns and chord progressions - I pictured it all on the piano.

The week so far had been amazing. I had also taken vocal classes. All the teachers except one were under the age of twenty-five and they were innovative, focused and gifted - and so nice. The total number of campers didn't even hit forty - and that included nine teachers. As our friend Aoife said; "There are no lines between teachers and students." For the week, we were all family. Musical family.

We went swimming. Don't tell Grandpa, but Grandma let Liddy, Elisha and I drive her Cadillac to the lake. It is new, black, shiny and it had leather seats and - "Ummm… we can sit on our sweatshirts," we decided.

On Monday, it was Lake Siskiyou. Tuesday it was up the mountain to another lake. On Wednesday and Thursday it was back to Lake Siskiyou. Another coat of dust and a pile of wet towels.

I think a car like this needs some youthful loving like that. Sitting here, I can see dusty toe prints and bits of dirt and pine needles on the carpet.

The lake sat like a scene from a movie. It was perched on the edge of a rocky peak, looking straight across to Mt. Shasta. The sky was blue - a flawless blue - but if there had been clouds, we could have reached and touched them. We shed our shoes and bags and swam. The sun shone through the peaks and reflected off the water. Behind the lake, through little bushes and over a creek, lay a large spread of snow. Yessss... snow balls in July.

Twelve Hours
June 30th, 2005

"I'll have driven more lately than ever before," Dad said yesterday.

And it's true, 'cause he has.

Three weeks ago he drove part of our family to a fiddle contest in Post Falls, Idaho. Last week, he (with help from Joby) drove our family to Weiser, Idaho. Yesterday - well, I won't tell you yet where he drove us yesterday - but "We'll go to Leah's this weekend," he continued, "And then off to Sacramento next week."
And yesterday... well; yesterday, Dad drove Mom, Vance, me and my piano teacher across the state for... my piano recital.

"Brice," Dad said smiling, "today I'm driving twelve hours so you can play five minutes... but you're worth it."

My dad is cool. We arrived at Gongazaga University (this year's home for the Washington State Music Teacher's Association Convention) at 3:50. The air was warm and clingy. I walked two blocks to a practice room, played through my piece and then met with the recital coordinator at 4:20. The recital began at 4:45. I played at the end, received my rose, hugged a few piano teachers and friends and then... we left.
"You guys are the coolest parents and teacher in the whole world," I said. After a cheeseburger at Zips, we headed home. Six more hours. "This will have to be a journal entry, " Dad said.


In the Van
June 20th, 2005

Driving through rolling hills and barren fields, my friend, Cate, and I decided to pass the time by writing about our trip. I began:

My feet are sweaty. Out of the corner of my eye, through the van window, I can see pavement and strips of white paint shooting by. Cate is next to me, along with Annie, Joby, Abby (another friend), Liddy, Rudy, Deter, Vance, Tucker, our friend Becky Curfman, Elisha, Lilja, and Mom and Dad. The van is full... We've been on the road for six hours already so everyone is either silent or sleeping... or both... except for Annie. She's talking to Cate.

Cate continued:

Outside is picturesque. Yellow, white and purple flowers dot lush valleys and the sky is a perfect cotton candy blue... The otherwise silent car is slightly surreal. It would appear that after 6 and a half hours, 13 people can run out of things to say to one another.

Then I wrote:

Joby looks stoned. No, really. It's humorous. His face is crinkled with sleep lines and he's - no, wait, he's smiling a bit now...
I still don't think I've seen the flowers Cate was talking about.

In less than two hours we will, Lord willing, be entering WEISER.
This morning, dad woke us all at five. The sun was merely hinted at on the horizon: a smear of pink light. We all climbed out of our beds.

"You ready to go Weisering?!" Daddy asked Deter.

Cate:

Deter is now fast asleep under Tucker and Becky. Brice is now practically glued to the window - she's looking for flowers...
"Have we passed the big water thing yet, Brice?" (Annie is wondering how far we are from Weiser)
"You mean the lake?" Brice answers.
The further towards the Idaho boarder the drier the climate gets. The colors of the flower are now fiery orange, reds and yellows.

"Look, the hills look like a sunset," Brice comments.

She has been paying more attention to the surrounding since the flower incident.

We were nearing Weiser, so our writing game ceased. There were more fun things to think about. A week in Weiser, at the National Old Time Fiddle Contest, lay ahead of us.

Sunshine and Freckles
June 13th, 2005

Life is transitioning from spring to summer. Our little ones are brown and freckled and Rudy's hair is beginning to bleach. Joby is out of school and track season is over for Liddy and me. The trail to Grandma and Grandpa's house is now flanked by daisies. Our woodstove is cold. And the trees in the draw below our hill are thick with foliage.

As I write, sitting in the living room, the hills on the horizon are deepening their shades of blue. All the little ones are in bed. The din and commotion of a regular day are calmed. I can look out our windows and see the sky streaked with pink and the honey suckle, wrapped around the porch, bobbing gently.

"This is such a unique and enjoyable time in my life," Mom has said recently. "All my children are home. None of them are married or about to be married and none of them are in diapers. It is a special time."

Our schedule is changing, but our family dynamics aren't. It's a good thing.

P.S. I've posted some new photos in our "Good Times" album on our photo page... you should check them out.

And Fiddling
June 14th, 2005

At the beginning of May my siblings competed in the Washington State fiddle contest. It was held in the open, blue skied city of Wenatchee and all of us (excluding Joby - he was at home, studying) stayed with our friends, the Blacks.

I have said it before but I will say it again; I love fiddle contests. I enjoy the contest fiddle style. I enjoy the tunes. I love the fiddle people. I take immense pleasure in seeing my siblings and other fiddle friends compete, noticing their improvements and the fruits of their practice. I am observer, camera lady and tune sheet filler-outer. Sometimes I even tune the little ones' fiddles. I tune them, that is, until Liddy walks up and, taking the instrument from my hands with a grin, says: "Here, I'll do it."

Aaaah.... I had a contest fiddling career once. It spanned about two years and three contests. Back then, our family was just beginning to fiddle and had just entered the contest scene.

It was 2001. We were beginners, but I think that I - the pianist converted flutist converted violist converted fiddler - was the worst of us all. I played for a little while until Dad and I talked. We decided that maybe contest fiddling didn't have to be my thing. I was relieved. I loved fiddling, but piano was so much easier. So I practiced piano and let my fiddle rest. I played in family shows, but quietly - very quietly.

But while I practiced piano, my siblings continued in their fiddler endeavors. They practiced and listened to recordings. They competed in contest after contest and took lessons from many experienced fiddlers. Before long, they gradually were no longer bad. In fact, they have become... good.

The Washington State Contest was enjoyable. We saw friends and played and, for the first time in our family fiddling history, we drove home with three state champions in our van.

Liddy competed in the Open division, placing 4th. Elisha won the Junior division, Annie won the Jr. Jr. division and Lilja placed 3rd in the Jr. Jr. division. Tucker won the Small Fry division, Deter placed 4th in the Small Fry division and Vance won (much to his excitement) the youngest fiddler award.

This week they are practicing hard for Weiser, the national contest. As I write, Liddy is sitting on the couch playing through her double stops slowly - very slowly. All the little ones are in bed now, but tomorrow morning, Annie will most likely be up at six to - yep - practice.

Aw, Annie. She is so disciplined. Sometimes she wakes up early, practices for awhile and then goes back to bed. Lilja sometimes wakes up early to practice, too. For Deter, the practice chart is yet another battle ground for his delightfully competitive nature. He fiercely clocks his practice minutes. Quantity, not quality. It's all about quantity. More than Tucker - just more than Tucker.

Aaaah... little boys. I love them.

So. Yes. They are all better fiddlers than me. Tucker can play circles around me and he's only eight... Deter is seven and I think that maybe he is the only one I could compete with... a fact which I find quite enjoyable - and amusing.

My Senior Recital
April 17th, 2005
The sanctuary was full, rustling with relatives, friends, and others, who I didn't know. Standing to the side, I gazed in awe at all the faces. Nearly four hundred people had come for my recital. The amount of love and friendship they represented was overwhelming.

Daddy grabbed a mic and the rustling calmed. He welcomed everyone, then began to reflect. He talked about my birth (I was a fat, squishy baby) and then my life until present (I've stretched out a little) and then -

"You all know that I am somewhat limited in my resources as a parent," he began, "and knowing this, I have taken great comfort in knowing that you all have been in Brice's life to compensate for my areas of deficiency."

He paused and laughed, holding back tears. The whole room chuckled - one large, warm chuckle, multiplied again and again.

"You have all added so much to Brice's life," he said, "and Lisa and I are so grateful."

A day in which one receives hundreds of hugs is a day that cannot be easily forgotten. I performed my concert and spent the next hour and a half receiving hug after hug after hug. The afternoon passed as one huge, surreal, blessing.
That evening, I thoughtfully hung my velvet dress in the closet. I felt solidified. I do not think I will experience a day similar until my wedding day. And Dad says that won't be for another fifteen years.

Nothing's Changed
April 6th, 2005

A few minutes ago, three people began talking to me through Instant Messenger. I was eating lunch, writing an e-mail, testing to ascertain whether we needed a color cartridge for our printe, while surrounded by the common noise of household. Elisha was practicing the piano. A CD was playing from the computer and Tucker, standing directly behind me, was practicing his fiddle rounds. It was quite noisy.

Liddy settled next to me on my chair.
"Go practice some where else, Tucker," she commanded.
Just then Annie and Deter approached and began talking.

Within a half hour of sitting here, I've heard:

"Bricie, can I boil an egg?"
"Do you have the Corwins' new address?"
"Where's the pan? Where's the pan, Bricie?!"
"It's boiling! There's water coming out! Bricie! It's boiling!"
"Where's your address book?"
"Honey, could you find the CD with Tucker's song on it?"
'There's white stuff coming out of the egg - there's white stuff-"
"Is this the right one?"
"Rudy dot hurt."
"Do you know where my algebra CD is, Brice? … Brice?"
"Brice - Brice - my cheeks have been hurting really bad lately. My cheeks have been hurting really bad."
"Is this stuff o.k. for Spokane?"
"Bwicie, look at I what I drawed!"
"Brice, I am going to turn this off -- I turned it off - I am going to take the egg out…"

I am so blessed.

Life has been like this lately. Actually - (what am I thinking!) -
life is always like this! We've been celebrating birthdays, doing school, recording a new CD, practicing music, running track, performing music, hosting friends and playing basketball. And so I just thought I would write and let you know nothing's changed.

Cereal, Basketball and Birthdays
March 5th, 2005

Before I know it, a month passes. I just ate four (small) bowls of cereal (actually, I ate it out of a coffee mug) and now I am here, sitting in front of the computer screen, realizing that I have yet to write a journal entry concluding our trip to California. Agh! ...Uncle Mark, I will complete it, just for you.

Last night, fifteen of us filed into Tumwater high school to watch Annie's 6th grade select basketball tournament. All of us kids, plus our friends, Justin and Desiree Booher (they stayed the weekend with us), and our sound man (and friend), Dale, and our friends Mark, Abby and Sandra, crowded the bleachers. That's nine plus six (it equals fifteen). Annie must be the best supported sixth grade basketball player in Lewis County.

Rudy sat on Abby's lap during the game.

"I'll read you a bed time story when we get home," Abby said.

Mom and Dad were in Seattle that night. When Mom and Dad are gone, they love knowing we have friends with us at home. Our friends are like extra family members and -
"I kinda like knowing they're with you," Dad said, "because I know they help out and keep the little kids entertained."
Our little ones get so much love from the friends in our lives. They are constantly affirmed by all the dear people that hang out at our house.

Tonight we celebrated the birthdays of our youngest and oldest brothers with a big plate of cupcakes. Joby turned twenty-one and Rudy is almost four. What other twenty-one year old gets cupcakes for his birthday? Not any, I bet.

So, I thought I would conclude this in an organized fashion, but I think I won't. I should probably finish my California entries instead.


Another Fiddle Contest
February, 5th, 2005

Fiddle contests have become one of our favorite family activities - taking naps on bleachers, watching the rounds, predicting the placing and visiting with fiddle-friends. Gaston, Oregon, population 563, is home to one of these endearing affairs.






California, Here We Come! Part Three
January 21-26th, 2005

We had been settled in Grandma and Gradpa's RV park for hardly a day when -
"We'll take you to Bombay Beach," said Grandma.

Grandpa gave a mischievous smile.

Bombay Beach. How exotic sounding. So the next evening (which happened to be Friday) Grandma and Grandpa drove us toward Bombay Beach: the most happening place in the sparsely palm treed Imperial Spa Valley.

"There it is," Grandma said.

There it was: a square of mobile homes perched on the edge of the fascinatingly creepy attraction known as the Salton Sea. I gazed at the boarded buildings and tiny yards. Bombay Beach was merely rows of shaky looking buildings and trailers!

Our destination was the Bombay Beach Eagle's building.

The room was noisy and crowded with senior citizens and squished between the pool table and the jukebox, we waited for open tables.
Then, Gary, our newly adopted grandpa, decided to make an announcement;
"We have a family here all the way from Washington state," he hollered. "They all play music. Would you like to hear some?"
Everyone cheered.

We played before dinner and after dinner, while they passed the hat and stuffed dollar bills in the little boys' pockets. They were all very kind. And the food was pretty good.

The rest of our stay at Grandma and Grandpa's RV park was enjoyable. We competed in a fiddle contest near the Mexico boarder. Tucker won. We swam and soaked in the mineral pools. Bernie and Jeannie, yet another set of adopted grandparents, made us fresh squeezed orange juice every morning. Adopted grandpa Gary drove the little ones around on his golf cart. Grandpa (real one) drove Dad and several of the kids through the desert to an oasis.

Sunday afternoon found us driving from the gorgeous, stinky, fascinatingly barren Imperial Valley to the warm, palm - treed streets of LA. There we met our aunt Mary, uncle Chris, uncle Mark, aunt Caroline and great Aunt Linda. The next day we spent touring LA with Uncle Mark. He took us to Malibu Beach and the Ronald Reagan museum. Then, after leaving Mom and Dad and the little ones at Uncle Mark's house, we hit the streets of Hollywood - just Elisha, Liddy, Annie and Uncle Mark and myself.

We had tickets for a Chris Thile/Edgar Meyer concert, but, until then, we had about four hours to kill. We saw the Walk of Stars, the Chinese Theatre, and then spent several hours walking through the Kodak Theatre mall, just hanging out. It was enjoyable to just be able to spend time with Uncle Mark and to observe Hollywood.

The next morning, after a smashing concert, we left L.A. Two days later, we arrived home.

California, Here We Come! Part Two
January 19-20th, 2005

After about an eight hour drive, we arrived at Mount Shasta. Houses and restaurants nestled between walls of snow and the air smelled like cedar. Mom was still in a daze, but already Dad, Liddy, Elisha, Annie and my self were glad that we had brought rest of the family. What good are eight feet of snow and a beautiful mountain if there are no little boys to holler "WHOA! LOOK AT THAT!"?

After a few hours of fiddle lessons with some friends, we spent a night in the hotel - under a clear sky and the shadow of Mount Shasta.

Morning found us packing our bags, exploiting the continental breakfast, clearing the hotel room and then crowding into the van. I can't remember what we did that day besides drive. It's a blur of barren land, smoggy skies, loud music and beaming little faces covered with stickers.
The next day found us nearing our destination: Grandma and Grandpa. The clouds burned off, blue sky emerged and we drove, rocking out to Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass. We stopped a mall and after I bought a velour skirt for three dollars and sixty cents (just wanted to let you all know) and after we used the restrooms, we piled into the van once again.

California, Here We Come! Part One
January 18th, 2005

I was hugging my pillow. It was January 18th, 5:30am, and Dad, Liddy, Elisha, Annie and I were driving through the dark, rain-flooded streets of Centralia. For over a month we had planned this trip - just us four and Dad, driving to California in Grandma's Cadillac.
"It's sad leaving everyone," Liddy said
We were silent.
"Yep. It is," Dad sighed.
I nodded. There was silence.
"We could go back and get them," Daddy said.
Silence.
"Yeah," Liddy said.
More silence.
(Hang on: as a side note, I think people are always silent at 5:30 in the morning. And if they're not absolutely silent, they carry about an aura of silence. That's my thought for the evening. Moving on...)
Daddy was thinking.
"Do you want to?"

I would've participated in this conversation, but I didn't. For about two weeks I had been saving minus hours of sleep for this trip. I love sleeping in the car and at that moment I was more than legit-ly tired. So I was silent.

By the time we had reached our coffee shop we had taken a vote and a month and a half of planning disappeared. It was decided: we couldn't spend eight days in southern California without the rest of the family. So turning around, we headed back home.

While Dad attempted to talk Mom into the idea, Liddy, Annie, Elisha and I packed clothes for Lilja and the little boys, making sandwiches and throwing snacks and vitamins into Tupperwares. Mom is a planner - but Dad is a convincer. So waking and dressing the little ones, we threw Mom's bag into the van and by 6:30, we off to California - all of us except Joby. Duty (school and basketball, that is) held Joby at home… left to the hardships of a ghostly silent house.

Just an Update
January 15th, 2005

My family attended a total of eight basketball games today.

"I sat on the bleachers all day," Tucker sighed.

Annie had three games, Lilja had one and Elisha had four.

...I thought I was feeling inspired to write, but I don't think I am. Life for me is becoming a little more balanced. At the beginning of the New Year I spent a week reorganizing and scheduling, trying to catch up with my life (imagine what Mom has to go through). Oh, speaking of that; the other day I was home alone with the seven youngest. They were all being good - just average, happy, rowdy kids - but I think my hearing was more acute than normal. Daddy thanked me when he came home.

"How'd it go?"

I smiled; we'd had a fun time.

"Oh, good," I said, "But it seemed like I had five people talking to me constantly."

You know, now that I think of it, I probably did have five people talking to me constantly.

...Aw, well, I was going to write more but Daddy just walked by.

"You probably should go to bed, too, hon," he said.

O.k. G'night, guys.

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