
Here's the big family picture. It doesn't look much different from the original, but many hours later, it's the new extra-beautiful and improved version - worthy of hanging on any wall. Or all walls. Maybe I'll have it made into wallpaper...

Do you know who is missing and who was not changed?
Grandkids, grandkids, grandkids. They're a nice bunch.
Jacob and Charlotte.
Sensible Charlotte.
Craaaaaazy Kate. You can tell by the hair.
Building water barrel racks with Grandpa
Having a good time...
Caleb, Jacob and Grandpa tossing the ol' pigskin
Jacob's favorite sport just happens to be another thing Grandpa is good at.
Erik is getting ready to go to Thanksgiving. He thinks he can bring Scat if we are convinced it is an Erik Daniel Boone hat.
Brielle playing catch with Erik at Mark's house


We stayed at a hotel in St. George on the way home. They had a sauna just like in Finland. We used it in Pirjo and Seppo's honor.

My Ride Experience
By Emily
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to ride on a roller coaster so fast, it’s famous? I have, and it was the worst decision I have ever made to this day. Of course, I had no idea that it was, but I was aware that it was going to be (and it was) the most thrilling and horrifying ride of my young, tender life. I probably wouldn’t have gone on it, except our recent trip to Legoland had given me roller coaster fever and overrode my common sense.
Have you ever been to Legoland? The closest one is in California, but my grandma lives there too (in California, not Legoland). Anyway, there are fun activities and rides there. Some of the rides were too big for me to handle, but I managed to swallow my fear and choose a few roller coasters to ride. My problem with roller coasters is waiting in line, and the initial part before the ride really gets started. That is the time when I really regret my decision, and wish it were possible for me to get off. As soon as the ride starts, however, I have a great time.
Driving home from a great vacation in California (a ten-hour commute, by the way), we stopped at a casino in Las Vegas. Not to gamble, but my brother needed to go to the bathroom. We parked outside of it and then I saw a bright orange horror, coming through the roof like an eight-story sea serpent, the tallest roller coaster I had ever seen besides Stratosphere because the particular casino we chose was also an amusement park. I immediately knew that I would have to ride this or regret it for the rest of my life (or both).
As we walked through the haze of cigarette smoke, looking for the bathroom, we passed a log flume, gambling tables, and plenty of other games. Dad got us lunch from McDonald’s. Mom bought two tickets for the roller coaster. Desperado. Just the two of us would be going.
Strapped into that death cart, my stomach had butterflies, then snakes. The snakes ate the butterflies. The gorillas ate the snakes. Then the ride started to move.
It didn’t linger long inside the heated building, eager to expose us to the chill November air as soon as possible. As it climbed eight stories slowly, with an ominous click-click-click sound, Mom tried to diffuse the tension with jovial banter. “Look, I can see our car from here!” The talking did not help.
The cars reached the top, three tiny feet leaving you half a second to think until all of your thoughts were left behind with your stomach and several other vital organs while the rest of your body was clinging to the shoulder bar in front of you for dear life. Your body parts float up there at the top for a while, disoriented, until your brain reminds the rest of them that you are still plummeting at 120 miles per hour, still freefalling down that first hill. Your brain marshals them into some sort of order, and they drift off lazily down the track to rejoin your body some three days later.
Meanwhile, while my body parts were still at the top wondering what was going on, the rest of me was locked into position on the seat, every availible part of me feeling like it was stretching every which way while plummeting to my death.
After those first three hours, in which the barf-orange cart was screaming down the first hill, the coaster takes a sharp curve and starts decelerating in minimal increments. When I say minimal, I mean that it slowed down about one mile per hour in the whole course of the ride. Seriously, though, I would have enjoyed the rest of the ride if my entire body were not on red alert from those first eternities going downhill.
I’m pretty sure that this is all I can write about this. Reliving this experience is making my whole body freeze up. I’m not a screamer on roller coasters, I squeeze my mouth shut, but I’m glad that I had not eaten lunch yet. Understandably, I was not able to eat my burger until several hours after the ride was over. Even though it was the worst decision of my life, I still have the ticket up on my bulletin board.


Cousins swimming at Cody's