Mike and I flew to Boise, Idaho for the weekend. Not just for kicks but for an Engaged Encounter Unit Board Meeting which, really, is nothing but kicks. They are so much fun! We stayed with a wonderful family who wined us and dined us, and we had a marvelous time with all of our Unit Board friends.

I must admit that I’ve been looking forward to the weekend for a while – not because of the ditching kids factor – but because of the airport. While I don’t love flying (I’m OK with it), I’ve really gotten to love the airport experience. I really think that I could spend hours in an airport (and have). I love to study others and in my opinion, next to Costco, the airport is one of the best places to pursue my passion for people-watching. At one point, while we waited to board our plane to come home from Boise, I made Mike move seats two or three times to locate the best possible vantage point. (I’m sure the fellow people-watchers were fascinated by our relocation process; they were trying to figure us out). That’s one of the best parts of people-watching: trying to unriddle their story, who they are, where they’re going or coming from, and (my personal favorite) why they selected that outfit for their traveling attire. You see everything at the airports these days: from heels and suits to pajamas and Uggs (really expensive, comfy cloggy-slipper-type boots, for those of you lacking knowledge in the current fashion trends). I was most fascinated by the head-to-toe white linen suit Man. The only splash of color decorating him was a bright yellow scarf wrapped around his neck. He happened to sit right by us and was reading what looked to be an essay or report on Yoga/Meditation. (Yes, my people-watching skills do occasionally turn into glancing at other peoples’ reading materials).

While Yoga/Meditation Guru Man made me happy, I was also fascinated – and slightly disturbed – by WAY Inappropriately Too Tight EVERYTHING Man. On Friday, we flew with WITTEM and his wife to Boise. On Sunday evening, we had the pleasure (OK, displeasure) of flying back to Seattle with Wittem and Mrs. Wittem. Friday’s ensemble was a skin-tight blue t-shirt, tucked into skin-tight black Levis, cowboy boots, cowboy hat, and puffy white vest (that was too tight to fully snap shut). I was disappointed to see that Wittem’s outfit on Friday was not an accident – I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt – but when the Wittems arrived on Sunday evening, I discovered, no, this is just the look this man goes for. For Sunday’s travel, Wittem selected a long sleeve, skin tight SHEER t-shirt, underneath white puffy vest (too small to snap closed), showing-it-all too-tight Levis, and white cowboy hat and black boots. Mrs. Wittem, however, always appeared perfectly normalized and acceptable in her attire selections. I just don’t get it. I must admit that I was assuming the Wittems were from a more rural locale – such as Idaho – and that on Friday, we were flying them home. However, seeing them return to Seattle like us, really threw me for a loop. Are they from here? I have a hard time seeing Wittem blend in with either the (stereotypes here): Yuppies of Bellevue or Urban Granolites of Seattle.

While we partied in Boise, the boys spent the weekend with the Buckley and had a marvelous time. On Saturday morning, my parents took them to their friends’ son’s farm. You can imagine the excitement. (Grandma’s….the boys were a little hesitant at first). When I spoke to Matthew on the phone later that afternoon, he said, “Mommy! I got to steer the John Deere. And I got to scoop up horse poo!” Wow, highlight of his weekend, I’m sure.

So, the Martins are all reunited again in Newcastle – undergoing the stress of daylight savings (you can’t reset your kids’ clocks) and sickness. Zach had a bit of a fever and cough for my parents this weekend (sorry, Grandparental Units!) and Matthew started the cough and fever last night. Being forced to stay home is actually a good thing. Yesterday, there was so much laundry to do, that I had the boys help me with one of their favorite household chores. We call it LAUNDRY AVALANCHE!!! The boys sit on the stairs, and I proceed to dump hamper loads of laundry on them. They ride down the stairs while butt-surfing on a wave of dirty clothes. Once all the laundry is at the very bottom of the stairs, they use dump trucks and kid-size toy shopping carts to transfer the laundry from the base of Mt. Martin to the Land of Laundry where it slowly (over the course of a couple days) is turned into clean clothes by the Sprite of Cleanliness who – occasionally and ever so benevolently – visits our home.