"My Name is Jeff!"

Back when the kids were in school -- eons ago, now -- Peter and his friend Ryan worked together on a story. I don't even remember now what the story was about. I only remember the protagonist of the story was named Jeff who spoke with a wavering Southern accent, something between Tarzan's ululations and the incomprehensible caterwauling of an injured drunkard.  Think Bobcat Goldthwaite. I only remember this detail because Peter will still exclaim out of nowhere, "My name is Jeff!" in the same accent, though, clearly, his name is not Jeff.

After an extended stay in Cheney -- a delightfully relaxing period marked by cool morning runs and trips to Zips for burgers, crinkle fries with tartar sauce, and marshmallow milkshakes. 

Peter spent one morning with his grandfather watching planes land and take off at Felts Field over a breakfast of French toast and sausage links. They slipped and slid in the backyard  and even pulled out their two-year old cousin's pirate ship-themed wading pool.

We ate tacos at our favorite cantina in Spokane (twice), went for a hike on Spokane Mountain, went to Clear Lake to fish for trout (many times), and Elise and I even volunteered to pass out Gatorade an aid station on the bicycle route of the Ironman triathlon in Couer d'Alene.

Sadly, our stay in Cheney had come to an end. We said goodbye to the grandparents and headed west to Bellingham. 

We stayed three nights in an A-frame cabin among the towering pines in Sudden Valley. We left the grandparents' on a 100+ degree day. When we arrived in Bellingham, there, too, record highs scorched the extreme upper left of the continental USA. Our cabin didn't have AC. The kids put their pajamas in the freezer before putting them on to cool themselves off before going to bed.. We stayed up until 11:00 waiting for it to cool down, then eventually slept on the floor to avoid the heat. 

To cool off, we set out for a hike from Lake Whatcom Park to fish and for a dip in the lake. 

The only reason I mention the phrase at the start, is -- as you are looking through these photos -- you have to imagine Peter blurting out at any given moment, "My name is Jeff!"

Which only begets more hilarity from Peter when we actually meet someone named Jeff.