QST de N7GMT

Well, we all survived the weekend. It was promising to be rather complicated — not to mention that date night (Thai with my Sweetie) was in jeopardy!

As it turned out, most everything settled down and I got to go help with the fireworks for Fiesta Days down in Spanish Fork. These folks really know how to do fireworks. When many of the cities are cutting back or eliminating fireworks for their city celebrations due to the economic upheaval the country is suffering through, Spanish Fork still put on a grand display.

I got three of the older kids to join me. (The Bookworm had her nose buried in a book and would not be displaced, IIRC.) The Gamer met up with the son of one of the other SCATeam members, who had been over to play GURPS (yes, we still need to get back to that; sorry boys); Cheezer snuggled down into the blanket she’d brough; the Entomologist alternated between the two, and finally got Cheezer to have scooter races with him, using borrowed scooters.

The assignment was pretty easy this year. Lots of telling folks why they couldn’t allow their kids to play on the swings and slides (”Sorry folks, the playground is inside the drop-zone.”); that the fireworks would only stop for high wind, not for rain; and that the official start time for the fireworks is “when the rodeo is over” — which was scheduled to be finished at ten, but always runs over a little.

The cool thing about working the fireworks is that you’re right there! The shells and larger mortars were exploding just a little to the west but almost straight up. Really fun to watch, that close up. They had some very neat mortars this year, and some shells I hadn’t seen before. My favorites were the ones that made little purple bursts right at the end … at least I think they were purple bursts; the purple could have been after-image on the back of my retinas, I guess.

The finale was quite surprising. I mean, one expects a finale, and one expects lots of fireworks, but the number of things going on in the air all at once started pushing the bounds of sensory overload! I couldn’t believe how much fire was in the sky; it felt like they shot off a full third of their total fireworks in the last twenty seconds or so. (I’m sure it was a lot less of the total load, but when there’s that much stuff in the air …)

Consensus from the kids? Great!

I’m glad they came along; it was fun to have them there with me, even if they did have a long wait before the official show.

Well, that was a thing. We took the day and went to Lagoon as a big family. We managed to convince my brother-in-law and sister-in-law to come, too! A bit warm, but if you know how to deal with it, it wasn’t too bad, I guess.

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The last full weekend in June is ARRL’s Field Day 2008 (yes, I’m just that slow posting). This year my boys and I joined UDXA in their FD outing up on Skyline Drive near Fairview, UT. They boys aren’t yet licensed but I figured this would be a good year to have them work on the GOTA station. This station is specifically meant to let folks get acquainted with Amateur Radio … and hopefully to get them bitten by the Ham bug!

Warming up in the sun while eating breakfast.

The boys had a blast! They each made about twenty-five contacts with folks from all over the States. One YL had already worked our station, but wanted to work us again, just because we had young folk on the radio. My boys are nine and six.

My nine year-old, the Gamer, was working stations almost without prompting from the get-go. He is my Ham buddy and has worked a contest or six with me before. He’s getting quite good, actually. Once he has listened to me give a contest exchange several times, and has done a couple of them himself, he settles right down and works like a veteran. Several of the UDXAers commented on how well he did and how impressed they were with his operating skills. We <cough>I</cough> need to get him going on getting his license so he can join me more regularly.

This was the first serious radio event for my six year-old, the Etymologist. He was a bit nervous and a bit shy at first, what with everyone wanting to help him. Once he warmed up, he did really well, though — especially once he got his “outside” voice going. (Not his real outside voice, which he occasionally uses on a festering, ingrown sibling, but his normal voice with enough punch behind it to bust a pile up! I was very proud of him.) He turned out to be the darling of the GOTA tent; every shutterbug in camp wanted their turn to get pics of him with the headset and boom mic on.

The night before, my boys and I wrangled ourselves some radio time over on one of the rigs just to see if maybe we could make a few contacts for fun. Thanks to Hal, WA6ZHK up in Roseville near Sacramento, CA; and to Craig, N7CAL, up in Custer, Montanna. The boys were especially excited to talk to Craig: he lives and works on a spread up there in big sky country, where they ride four-wheelers and horse to help run about 900 head of cattle. To a couple of suburbanite boys, that sounded like heaven! (Craig was going to be having a different kind of field day; he was expecting a “water turn.” Having cousins who had to herd cattle and help with the water turns, I know it can be fun — for about one day, then fun it is&nbsp;&hellip; not quite so much. Brought back fond memories though. Thanks for the trip down Memory Lane, Craig!)

Sunrise behind the SSB tower.

The club was running 3A — which means three full-time stations running on generator power. We had a dedicated CW station (operating Morse code), a dedicated SSB station for voice contacts, and a “mixed” station for working either CW or SSB on whatever band seemed to be hopping and would help us get the most points. This group is incredible; they had two huge towers up there on Skyline Drive. Oh, and they call it Skyline for a reason. the horizon up there is (at or lower than) straight out pretty much in all directions. It’s a beautiful area. There were virtually no flying critters (we saw a few ’skeeters and a fly or three) and the temperature was pretty mild at 9100 ft. (2770 m) ASL. There were lots of ants and old mole trails, but that was just for effect.

Cereal at 9100 feet ASL.

All in all, it was a very pleasant weekend. We only stayed the one night and left about six hours into the actual operating event, but even that little bit was a bunch of fun. I certainly wouldn’t mind going up again next year; maybe this time we can stay long enough so my boys’ dad can get some operating time in himself.

Go Team!

We had a birthday bash—well, “bash” might be a bit too strong of a word … a birthday binge might be a better description. My sister invited us all over for Mom’s dinner birthday … “and we did partake.” They had shrimp fettuccine and fresh-picked, grilled asparagus (pronounced aas-pah-RAY-gus, like in Looney Tunes). No joke, grilled. It was nummy beyond expectation. I mean, the fettuccine was really tasty, don’t get me wrong, but my bro-in-law outdid himself with that asparagus dish.

Anyway, after eating ourselves into a stupor (and oh and my what a well sated stupor it was) we plopped ourselves down in front of the Idiot Box and viewed a few things they had on their DVR. After watching bits of this and parts of that, we overrode all objections and got “Bill Cosby, Himself” put on.

Now, my kids have never seen or heard Mr. Cosby himself (not to be confused with “… Cosby, Himself”), but only my weak, partial renditions of The Chicken Heart, and Noah, and the like. I discovered him when I was about nine; my folks had some old LPs and I rooted around in the family storage shed (a.k.a., garage) and found their old turntable and stereo receiver. I nearly wore the grooves out of the vinyl. I had a cassette tape that was eventually at least 15% longer than originally manufactured, I played it so much.

Anyway, my kids seemed to get quite a kick out of Bill Cosby. I think this is an excuse to go buy some CDs. It’s a family building exercise, you see.

[Yes, this is a little late; sue me.]

She’s not the “fairest in the land”,
Nor is she the smartest,
But she’s my Mom.

She’s not the fastest runner,
Nor is she bestest cook,
But she’s my Mom.

She’ll never win the spelling bee,
Nor the Nobel Prize,
But she’s my Mom.

She’s no Joan of Arc,
Nor a Madame Curie,
But she’s my Mom.

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[sung to the tune of "What do you do with a drunken sailor"]

What do you do with a pregger wi-ife,
What do you do with a pregger wi-ife,
What do you do with a pregger wi-ife,
Er-lie in the mornin’?

Aparently you take her to the horse-pittal and let her bring a “new one” into the world.

Yup. Our latest was bornified this week. Cute little guy.

We’re glad to have him with us. He was our biggest baby—something which did not please the one birthing him. She was quite glad to have him in her arms, though.

I sure do love her, my Sweetie. I don’t, however, know how she manages to do all the things she does. Trying to get all the kids off to school—fed, dressed, with brushed teeth and combed hair—and then to take care of all the other domestic things that need doing every day and every week … and then to top it off with all the other things she does, like being the Primary President for our Ward, making and selling hand-made soap from our home and at the Holy Cow Boutique, teaching piano lessons to the neighborhood kids, playing piano for our church choir … <sheesh!>

Anyway, he’s here now; healthy and happy (as long as he’s fed and no one is messing with his diaper).

Thank you, Heavenly Father, for letting us play host to this wee one.

You know the old saying, “Kids will say the darnedest things” right? Case in point:

My wife returned with a stack of homework, drawings, worksheets, etc. from parent-teacher conference at the elementary school. One of my boys described himself as

“… a gentle fire of speedy secrets.”

No joke.  In his own handwriting.

Now I’m left wondering …