Trainspotting and Propellers October 6 - 20, 2006 Tehachapi Loop and Wind Turbines

	A sea otter up close

	There was a whole school of sea otters at Moss Landing.

My suspicion that Lisa's aversion to walking was rooted only and exclusively in her hard-headedness, was being continuously confirmed. On Saturday -- i.e. two days after her first steps -- Lizzy had hiked a considerably large portion of the road up to Quicksilver. Naturally she favored the rough spots -- best over grass, gravel or ditches. When our trail narrowed to a single person path between poison oak bushes, the lady was forced into the carrier, which she bemoaned adequately. Thus we "enjoyed" the rest of the hike with Lisa a-whimpering, wanting to walk, and with Tom a-whimpering, wanting to be carried.

On the following Sunday we drove out to the ocean -- for a change to Moss Landing. Right at the start the lagoon welcomed us with an incredible show -- a whole school of wild sea otters came here. Never before I had seen them in such number and so up close. When we had finished taking pictures, we continued to the beach. Lisa trotted bravely along the trail, but then she had fallen into the sand and a problem ensued. Completely disgusted by the fact the some of the wet sand would stick to her little red shoe, Lisa refused to get up. She tried to brush off the offensive substance, but her little hands still need fine coordination for that. And so she screamed. The second scene did not let us wait for long. Yep, my fault... she's got very small feet, so I had bought her the smallest rubber boots one can find, but they still were too large and the would fall right off. Hence I had taken away these dysfunctional, albeit lady bug decorated boots, and set her up with regular, boring shoes -- she promptly had a nervous breakdown. Tom never used to care about these things, alas, Lisa loves shoes and pays them a great deal of attention. Shall this trend continue, she may become one very expensive offspring.

The tantrum lasted her quite a while; in the end I stopped her with a pacifier. Till now she did not need one, but now I apparently have to teach her to use it, as she began to suck at her hands in most maddening way, which I find neither hygienic, nor aesthetic -- sometimes the skin of her little fingers is all wrinkled. Well, when she starts to slobber over her hands, I set up a pacifier. I tell myself that in a year or so I might take the pacifier away from her and discard it; I won't do that with her fingers, will I?

	Lisa shall, in her advanced age, walk around stopped with a pacifier.

	Lisa's haircut, casserole style.

Now that Lisa had created enough embarrassment on the beach, we decided to retreat somewhere, best where they serve food. There's a branch of our favorite Sea Harvest in Moss Landing. We like to frequent the original in Monterey, a few steps from the Aquarium. On a first glance it looks like a fish market there, and only local experts know that they get served excellent food at a few tables. Who cares that it's not majestic and they have outhouses in the back yard for bathrooms? At least we don't have to endure tourist crowds. Sadly, the twin business in Moss Landing, which had been established in a style aiming at a considerably higher class of customers, has actually disappointed us. There's obviously someone cooking there with Monterey recipes, but a bit mindlessly. I got a slab of an unflavored fish that had been thrown on a grill and poured over by a hot spicy gravy, which turned me off a lot; Sid's skewer was overrun by a much-too-salty sauce. However, a few hours later I was to spend an hour in a bathroom, having an experience that rendered my two births into fun episodes. Since we had shared a dinner that night and no one else got any bellyaching, I suspect the Sea Harvest.

In the upcoming week I caught a hands-down, first-class stepmomer (a stepmomer = a unit on a scale in competiton for the Wicked Stepmom of the year): Lisa had fallen out of my shopping cart. Till recently I worked out my shopping thusly: Lisa on the cart's seat and Tom either remotely voice (yell) controlled, or safely wedged in the midst of my purchases. Naturally, my kids strongly desire whatever the other one has available -- Lisa buckles in the seat, on which Tom longs to reside. Subsequently, I begun to swap them. Well, this time Lisa would somehow lean across the edge of the cart that was up to her chest, yet her head must have somehow outbalanced her long skinny legs. Lizzy made an unbelievable salto mortale in the air, she went literally feet over head, and fell on her butt. I think that she did not even bump her head on the (carpeted) floor, she got only startled. So did I, of course, but I consider a screaming baby a good sign (she'd not lost conscience), and when I had found no other damage on the toddler, I continued my shopping, which obviously shocked a petrified store clerk.

It would seem that as a mother of a cutie-coo little baby girl, I show considerable lack of qualifications. I can deal with cutting Lisa's forehead fringe, but I did not quite know what to do about the rest of the head, so I took our miss to the professionals. The coiffeuse was mildly upset that I did not want to leave long hair on my girl. I explained that Lisa goes swimming and in addition to that she is a messy eater (browsing with her food-covered hand through her hair), so she had no right to keep it long. The lady countered that Lisa would look like a boy. Well, she was right. Lisa is, in the end, cut like by a casserole, and for the next time I shall apply this "expert" styling myself.

	Windswept prairie

	My favorite view to Carrizo Plain

We had finally managed to kick ourselves out onto a somewhat large trip. Sid had reserved some time off, I tried to reserve a hotel room in Santa Barbara -- and I'd failed. In the last moment we changed our plans to Tehachapi; there was a room available at "our" Travelodge, and we were clear to go. Our neighbor had offered to watch our kids while we would pack, but in the end we'd handed only Tom over. Mother-attached Lisa kept on screaming. We had missed our milestone of leaving by ten a.m., and before we were ready, it was half past eleven.

Lisa slept through the first leg to Salinas; Tom paid close attention to our surroundings. In Salinas we dropped by our favorite brewery, to have lunch. Sid murmured that his crab cake sandwich contained only one cake (a patty about 3 1/2 inches in diameter). They served me chicken instead of salmon that I had ordered, but I noticed it, thanks to my motherhood dementia, only when I was half done with it. It was very good nonetheless and my memory is not what it used to be. Especially when I'm distracted by taking care of children. It happens so that Lisa refuses to be fed; she would rather starve to death than accept a spoon in my hand. Hence making sure that she eats some soup without horrible consequences, resembles a haz-mat drill with plenty of bagging and wiping.

And then we drove on and on and on, until we arrived to Carrizo Plain. Its muddy, mineral Soda Lake can be observed from a beautiful, elevated, wooden path. We were right to expect that the kids would find it a welcome attraction. Both Tom and Lisa were ecstatic by the chance to stretch their legs. We had to dress them warmly, as the wind that swept across the prairie was icy cold, while black and heavy clouds accumulated over the lake from south. Lisa was happy to wear a pretty "hat" (a stripy fleece cap) and merrily trotted along on an uneven dirt road; she joined Tom in chasing large ants whose highway crossed the trail; she conversed with the overgrown grass and rocks and beetles. Then Tom ran far ahead, noticed the "long bridge" (the elevated path) and began to explore.

	Interpretive trail around Soda Lake - a path into the storm

	This thing was rolling nearer and nearer, until it caught us...

Naturally we had to walk the whole length of the path -- and so it happened that the first drops caught us still at the lake. Before we made it with the kids to the car, it was pouring. Lisa, whom I carried in the backpack, remained practically all dry. Tom was wet a lot more and of course he immediately pressed his unbelievably muddy shoes to the bus's front seat upholstering. Before we had cleaned up the mess (i.e. take off his shoes, wipe them a bit and put them into a plastic bag), Sid and I looked like two water sprites. In such a moment I was extremely grateful to have a bus. I could step in, peel off my wet clothes while still standing up, then walk over to the rear space, find in our luggage things to change into for the whole family, and put them on -- and only then, when I was dry, I could sit down on my DRY seat. I have no clue how we could have worked this in our wagon.

We still had a long way to go. Wanting to stop in Bakersfield for dinner, we found every place packed. Eventually we ended up at a Bask restaurant named Benji's. I personally liked the food there, but our kids found the French dining style too lengthy and Sid became quite sour after he had stuffed himself with appetizers (bread, soup, beans, two salads, and a plate of cold jellied meat), and then could not quite handle the main course. We would have needed to conquer our meal in the course of two to three hours, while washing it all down with good wine -- for which we had neither time nor circumstance; there were those last thirty miles to be driven to Tehachapi.

We had made it there by ten p.m., with both kids fast asleep still in their car seats. We woke them only to change them to pajamas and then we all together fell to beds. In the morning Sid continued to be sour, saying the weather was horrible. I tried to uplift our spirits countering that for trainspotting we shall need no special weather and that a fog is often better than a scorching heat, but I found soon losing optimism myself. A closer inspection had shown that this was not just a fog -- it was a fine and long lasting drizzle. We rushed to look up our local forecast on the 'net -- and got our hopes up -- they said that we might get sunshine in the afternoon. In much better mood we walked over to have breakfast -- and then headed to the local K-Mart. We wanted to buy bootlaces for Sid, which we did, but we also purchased rubber boots. Outside it still looked like a global flood, hence we reckoned it practical to not ruin our leather boots in the mud. I don't have to emphasize that right after our purchase the sun came out and from that moment we would not bothered by a single raindrop for the rest of the trip. Lisa, too, received new rubber boots; they are only a bit narrower than her famous lady-bug shoes, and she's been losing them much less.

	Beginning with the moment we bought ourselves rubber boots, not a drop would fall in Tehachapi.

	A freight train in the Loop.

Tommy was all eager to see his beloved trains, and we had to rush to the Loop. Back when we were childless we had promised ourselves to bring our kids to this place, and Tom did not let us down. He gazed at the trains, was amazed at how many engines they have, commented on the cars and the loads they were carrying, crawled all over rocks on the hills to have better view still, and behaved himself. Lisa, for a change, was sulking -- she has been having states when she won't be carried, won't sit, won't be held, would not be interested in toys, or anything else for that matter. I have to say it's been tiring, and usually after a while we give up all our attempts to fix the unfixable, and we leave her sulking and whimpering somewhere nearby.

Then we stopped at a historic Keene Cafe. We had counted on a humble lunch (choice of cold sandwich or hamburger), but in the end it was quite a success. Kids received a toast with cheese and fruits, and Lisa finally let go of her sulkiness. On the day before she was regarding all presented meals a horrible injustice, but in Keene she had probably realized that by keeping a hunger strike she was punishing mostly herself only, and that to eat again was not a bad idea; she devoured a toast, some fruit, and then some dried stuff I had brought along from home. Since that moment she became a much more tolerable and wholesome toddler.

Under the guise of kids needing their afternoon nap, we all had collapsed at the hotel. Late afternoon we drove out to the propellers. Tommy has been fascinated by wind turbines and so we wanted to allow him a closer look. I must say that it is an impressive view -- the towers are higher than they seem from a distance, and they also hum intrusively. Moreover, they stand -- understandably -- erected on hilltops, where the strongest winds blow, and hence we had to dress like a polar expedition. Lisa noticed the wind and blew right back. She merrily trotted on and off the road. Tommy pushed forward and we were faced with much explaining. He has been connecting his understanding of propellers with aircraft and so he insisted that "there's a a pilot sitting up there, right?" Lizzy had eventually shown much less patience than Tom, and so we women went back to our car, while men hiked up the hill to watch the sunset.

	Saturday night was beautiful...

	... although quite windy by the propellers you can see Highway 58 in the distant desert

We had our dinner right next to the hotel, in Cattleman's Cafe. It was our first try there -- and we were pleasantly surprised. Sid's steak was one of the best I ever tasted. My Hawaiian salad also exceeded expectations -- I think that we had found ourselves a mandatory food stop in Tehachapi.

Back at our room Tommy wished that daddy sleeps in his bed, but then the boys fought for room all night and pushed each other off the bed; it ended in Sid's fleeing back into his wife's bed. Even so I think I can praise the kids, for they behaved well through both nights at the hotel. We had planned to drive to Lake Isabella in the morning, but it would have represented a four hour's detour. Ultimately we had reduced the plan to visiting Kern River in its lower canyon, but we were up for a horrible disappointment -- a breathtaking mountain river has obviously been a favorite destination for large segment of local populace, and its banks look like it. Perhaps for the first time in America I saw so such mess. Glass shards, dirty paper plates, used diapers -- mean garbage. We turned around and headed home.

Lisa fell asleep on the way, Tommy stayed up and was very nice. I had decided to reward him by a few M&Ms, which was a big mistake. At home we usually avoid any kind of chocolate or candy, Tom has not been used to it at all. There's no other explanation to what might have caused this transformation from a normal, nice child, into a raging, angry monster. We repeated the experiment after lunch -- with identical effect. Until then quiet and easy Tom, with whom we could lead a rational discussion, caused an unbelievable scene because we ran out of the M&M's. Apparently the combination of sugar, cocoa and fats that his ill-adjusted organism could not readily process, made him explode like an over-pressurized boiler. Well, we shall remain restrictive, controlling parents, and Tom may have fruits and trail mix bars, in extreme a few Smarties -- but no chocolate.

	Tom was captivated by the multitude of propellers

	Another romantic sunset...

But let me get back to our lunch. It turned out quite well, being in our favorite Paso Robles. It had been a pleasant surprise for us to find a remodeled city square -- with many new restaurants, cafes, to your heart's desire. Sid had desired and spotted across the down town, a sign reading Basil, and without hesitation aimed for this only Thai restaurant in town. It seemed that its staff was mildly shocked by our order for the kids, and later they came to see Lisa loading herself with tom kha gai - a chicken soup with coconut milk, which I prop up with rice for her. We, too, gazed at her in surprise -- Lizzy had been mostly on strike regarding food for previous two days, and when I had ran out of ideas and offered her french fries (which Tom loves), she spat it out with a very disgusted face; however, she slurped her Thai meal as if her life depended on it, with a war cry "yum yum". She made us very happy -- our parenting must be causing some effects.

Then there are areas in which Lisa has taken her development firmly into her own little hands and we don't know whether we should laugh or cry. I had already mentioned her affection to hats. On our trip, whenever we were in our hotel room, I had put shoes on her feet -- and now Lisa insists that she must wear these beautiful (red) shoes even at home. She keeps finding them, and with an enthusiastic "shoo shoo" she brings them to me. She carefully sits down and observes with delight, how she looks in this important fashion complement of hers. I am not a shoe addict; my shoes divide into summer shoes and winter shoes, clean and dirty ones, those that fit and those that don't. Lizzy, on the other hand, is up to speed with fashion trends. Sid claims that he will have to ask for a raise -- should it develop at this rate, taking care of her clothing shall take us to the cleaners. When Lisa sits down in the morning, clutching her hair brush and combing her hair with an important air and gestures of a Hollywood diva, she looks cute; although I believe that in a few years it will drive us nuts.

Bringing up a boy seems much easier. Tom is straightforward, unassuming. His world is very uncomplicated. At a toy store, he always demands a purchase of a car, a bicycle or a scooter, but being told that I won't buy him anything, he counters that he will have a birthday, and then he lets me lead him away. His dreams must be interesting -- so far I had once interrupted his nightmare, after which he demanded to be let back on the train. At other opportunity he insisted on re-entering the yellow wagon he had fallen off of. Our hardest moment came when he had left a dream restaurant. Tommy sobbed (at three a.m.) that we must get back to the restaurant. I tried to explain it was just a dream, that his head comes up with fairy tales and that it was not for real, but he would not quiet down. Eventually I resigned and quite pragmatically announced that it was three in the morning and the pub was closed. Amazingly enough, this had convinced him and he let me put him without resistance back to his bed. Hence his only challenging wish that I know of, is a desire to fly with Air Force One. Compared to the perspective of upcoming twenty years filled with our endless buying Lisa's hats and shoes, it seems a rational and worthy goal.

Copyright © 2006 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.