When Things Get Crazy Around The S'mores Campfire

Seth rocked the cuteness factor around the campfire.

The other night the Sabos partook of the quintessential American camping experience. That's right, we made a campfire and roasted up some S'mores. In the ditch in our front yard. One of the best things about moving away from our old neighborhood in Gloucester to our new digs in metropolitan Hayes/Gloucester Point/Wicomico (I'm never sure where the outskirts of Hayes or Gloucester Point collide with the inskirts of Wicomico) is that we left the HOA behind. Because I'm pretty sure the HOA cops would have been all over us if we had tried to build a campfire in our ditch in our front yard and made S'mores. Unless maybe we would've shared with them.

Anyway, I'm happy to report that the only things that caught fire other than the wood we used to feed the Sabo campfire were marshmallows. Despite Judah's best intentions. A time or two his flaming 'mallows came dangerously close to flammable and combustible materials -- for example his sisters' hair -- but some quick action by Taylor managed to defuse -- literally -- any potential hair fires. Unfortunately, it seems that some elements of the Sabo family used the excuse of a family campfire to sort of terrorize the neighbors. Let me explain.

Before things got really crazy around the campfire.

The campfire was still ablaze when Julie and I had retired to the comforts of our home, content in the knowledge that the kids were under adult supervision (Taylor, his girlfriend Bethany, Evie, MerriGrace and the like) and having an enjoyable time making tasty campfire treats. Or so we thought. I'm not sure who came up with the brilliant idea, but it seems once the Hershey's chocolate bars and marshmallows all but burned up, or got devoured, someone decided that the appropriate thing to do was to dance crazily around the campfire and chant when someone drove by in their car. Not only that, but they decided collectively that they should go fetch our bunny "Flopsy" from her rabbit hutch and have someone hold her above their head as they danced as if it were some sort of crazed Gloucester ritual.

Apparently there were cars that drove by -- slowly -- when this was going on. One even stopped just down the road. When they related this story to me and after I quit nearly busting a gut from laughter I lectured them about how people already think we're a little bit `off' because we have so many kids. Now this? Now what will people think? Well, being a stand up guy who takes responsibility for his family, I have to say it was the older kids' fault. I also have to say, I wish I could have been there to see it stop the shenanigans. It does explain one thing though. I understand why I've seen beefed up police patrols in our neighborhood.

An American Journey: A Family's Trip Across The U.S.

                                         The Grand Canyon

Our summer road trip is in the bag.  Twenty-seven days, 8,100 miles, 18 states, one astonishing national park and a million memories. We traveled to Oregon and back in just under four weeks, one big family in one big van. At times our journey was a blur -- the 710-mile drive with just one stop on our last day from Franklin, Tenn. to home comes to mind -- and yet so many other times I wanted time to stop, the sun or moon to stand absolutely still in what seemed like a perfect moment. The few brief hours at the Grand Canyon come to mind. Plenty of other moments come to mind: An evening in the cool summer air of Kanab, Utah; the mind-boggling fireworks from a distant lightning storm lighting up the New Mexico sky; the view from Highway 89 where the Vermilion Cliffs jut up from Highway 89 in Arizona after we had touched the clouds on a 7,000-foot mountain pass.

                                          Kanab, Utah

The American West is absolutely alluring. The sky is so big and blue, the canyons are carved so deep into the earth and the mountains seem to kiss the sun. The landscape alternates between the staggeringly harsh and forbidding deserts and lovely and inviting river valleys. So many times I found myself thanking God for allowing me to take the trip and share it with my family. We enjoyed reunions with so many family members, friends and supporters of ours in our mission work with TEN3 (www.ten3.org) that were most often all too brief. We made new friends and acquaintances all across the country, often of people staggered by the amount of booths we took up at restaurants, or who we encountered during a picnic on the road, or at some other family excursion. Sometimes we spied them giggling as we spilled out of the van as they watched a seemingly endless supply of Sabo lads and lasses.

                                          On a farm near McMinnville, Ore.

Our great adventure has come to a close, but I am so thankful to God that He allowed us to enjoy this time as a family. We're at a point where our older kids are forging their own paths. We managed to enjoy parts of this trip with almost all of our kids and I'm very thankful for that. We'll tell the stories of our cross-country trip for years to come, sharing laughs about what happened when Seth hopped on the teeter-totter in Weatherford, Okla. Or how Gabe and Abram and their little brothers tried to catch steelhead salmon with their hands in a small tributary of the Clackamas River. We'll relive Judah's hurling incident in Dickson, Tenn., or chasing a bull down country roads in VanLeer, Tenn., or scrambling over the rocks atop the Grand Canyon cliffs. I can still picture the vineyards cascading down the cliffs of the Columbia River Gorge, the blueberries bigger than quarters in Grandma and Grandpa Young's back yard, and the sight of the range fire in the arid Eastern Oregon hills above Interstate 84 that had ranchers on ATVs herding their cattle to safe ground. And I'll always remember the countless smiles and laughter from a family having the time of its life.

Nail Guns 101: Or `That's Not A Toy Gun'

Serious remodeling, circa 1997 in Prineville. That's me, on the right of course.

Remodeling is a way of life in the Sabo house. Since roughly 1997 in Prineville, Ore., through houses literally coast to coast, the sweet sounds of a Skil saw, Milwaukee sawzall, Makita compound miter saw, finish nail guns, jigsaws, drills and assorted other power tools have been the norm for our family. We've tackled an addition that more than doubled the size of our house in Prineville. We basically built a 4,000-square-foot house in Corvallis, Ore., in a project that was supposed to be a "remodel" but ended up being virtually "new construction." We've manufactured bookcases and entertainment centers, remodeled kitchens and bathrooms, painted, repainted, trimmed out, sanded, spackled, torn down, built up and everything in between.

Somehow, miraculously, no one has suffered serious injury. We've had close calls; I remember being grabbed by my dad on a scaffolding after I started falling from two stories up while putting in a window at our Prineville house. That would've hurt. I popped my shoulder out a time or two, or maybe three or four, while working on our Corvallis house. That did hurt. Every time. I'm notorious for suffering cuts and scrapes on the smallest of projects; I pretty much donate blood anytime a power tool or hammer is involved. Some of us have stepped on rusty nails or screws, or mistook a thumb for a nail, or had a misfire on a nail gun. On our latest project a person very dear to me handling a cordless drill had an unfortunate catastrophe with it during a cabinet installation that resulted in a gash in my hand. That was a bloody mess. There's been other incidents, such as the time a huge burn pile of construction debris was lit on fire and that turned out to be just a little bit too close to our house. The Corvallis Fire Department showed up for that one. But our brand new house didn't go up in flames and that's all that mattered. It gave the neighbors something to talk about, that's for sure.

It's actually a pretty good track record of safety when you think about it. With all these kids running around and power tools everywhere and we all have all our digits and limbs ... God is good to us. That's not to say there haven't been close calls with the power tools. I was reminded of this tonight when I was using a finish nail gun on some toe kicks and quarter-round trim I was working on in our new kitchen we're finishing up. I was on the floor working and put the nail gun down to take a measurement and when I turned around Seth was eyeballing the tool and reaching for it. Like he was apprenticing or something and was going to lend me his expertise. I managed to remedy that situation right quick and got the nail gun out of harm's way. There's some built-in safety features on that nail gun and he really couldn't have done any damage but sheesh these kids are quick these days. It was also a good "Parenting 101" reminder for me that every parent surely has heard: Don't leave the locked and loaded nail gun on the floor.