Tik Tok Worthy Wasteland

The past few days have been a whirlwind of teenage Tik-Tok-worthy wasteland. The dog froze his nutz off in Wallowa Lake and we found ourselves bouncing off our booty cheeks rafting down the Boise River yesterday. Rolling through Utah in the back of the bus today, I’m somewhere between seasick and sadness as I continue my pilgrimage towards Park City, Utah, the last resting slope-scape nirvana for my late brother, and I remain grateful my four children have each other.  

Wallowa was the turning point for this Force Family Fun experience. Moving Day 3 heading backwards on the Oregon Trail towards Colorado, we nearly reached the breaking point one hairpin u-turn and scorching coffee spill on my hind leg and that of my Schnoodle in the back seat of the minivan, just shy of the quaint town of Joseph. Nevertheless we forged on to the Switzerland of Oregon, where the Schnoodle was baptized in the glacier waters of Wallowa Lake. Apparently everyone, save myself, froze their nutz off in the lake. My husband didn’t even get in, as if after four kids he’d be saving the family jewels for one more! I have to admit the boysenberry wheat ale was the highlight of the entire FFF experience, helping me swallow my words amidst my salty crew that day.

We hightailed it out of Wallowa in 9am record time, speed racing towards the Boise River Rafting experience. No sooner did we turn on the car and plug in Waze directions, than we realized we were already an hour late! Thank you Idaho Mountain Standard Time for sneaking up on me like my forthcoming 50th birthday. Four hours and four drivers later, we dropped our faithful Schnoodle at Rover.com doggie day care. ‘Julie’ freed a traumatized 10 lb. Ozzie from his death-paw grip on my collar bone, and we were off! I figured sweet Julie was ill prepared to calm a pooch traumatized by the semi-truck Atlas moving van that absconded with all our belongings ‘cept him. Finding himself forced on a cross country road trip with a bunch of barking teens, Ozzie’s neurotic car behavior became extinct as he surely felt lucky to be with us. 

Who takes 45 minutes in 2 o’clock boiling heat to put on bathing suits and sunscreen? My five family members, with little regard for our 6:30pm dinner reservation with the paternal cousins! I was determined the 2.5-3 hour relaxing  journey could easily be accomplished in 2 hours thanks to my 7th grade church camp rowing skills. Rest assured, my trusty river rats continued barking in our 6 person raft. 

“Not to be Captain Obvious, but you’re about to run into that tree branch mom.” Followed by my heckling husband, “if someone would just paddle harder on the right side of the boat, we wouldn’t hit the rock!” Geez, I get that I’m hard of hearing, sorry if I whack you with my paddle! 

One must surely wonder, when glancing at our clown show, how on earth my husband and I ended up paddling with 3 strapping lads and a fit female aboard. I can assure you, the proof was in the pudding, or crazy baby batter mix, that created these hooligans. They spent the next two-ish hours singing ‘Live Whisky - Bouncing My Booty Cheeks’ of Tik Tok fame whilst bouncing their booty cheeks wrestling their youngest brother. Truth be told, I thought Travis Scott lyrics were lewd and crude right up until this point.

“Push him over,” yelled an onlooker toking from another raft. How many older siblings does it take to launch a bratty brother pushing all their buttons? Apparently we’ll never know because despite touching her knee scab repeatedly, the 13-year-old emerged unscathed and completely dry from the raft at Ann Morrison park 'round 5pm, his 20-year-old sister, not so much! We proceeded to bounce our booty cheeks on a yellow school bus back to the starting point, where we were forced to succumb to an uncanny amount of 'River Rat' jokes from the driver on the overheated school bus. Good thing he loved his job because my tight-ass husband docked him a dollar tip for every corny river rat joke. Somehow I found THAT amusing! 

We arrived to rescue Ozzie with minutes to spare before dinner. Apparently he had just stopped crying at Julie's door. He surely thought he was abandoned. Nuzzling in my neck, the sweet smell of rotten doggie breath reminded me why he is my favorite. The pooch is always glad to see me and never barks back!

Today we find ourselves in the back of the minivan bus again, somewhere between the Great Salt Lake and Mormon Tabernacle Church. A few fleeting minutes of air conditioned solitude proved rejuvenating in Mormonlandia. I gladly signed up for dog sitting duty whilst my children set off on a pilgrimage for the tabernacle of fame. Perhaps they will baptize their younger brother after all.