I picked up a hitchhiker on the drive home from California: Our thirteen year old grand son, Lil' Bud.
It appears that one week with us is all he can handle. Texting, My Space, computer games. The life and times of a 13 year old.
Poor kid isn't flying home until Thursday.
Last Saturday we took him and some of our friends tubing on the Snake River - so it hasn't been a total dud for him. He was proud of his bumps and bruises, and the fact that he body slammed the water less often than the other young fellows.
We visited the museum today. Here you will find him posing in one of the cells from the old Washington State Penitentiary. He enjoyed sitting in the cell, acting the part of a felon, and begging to be set free.
The blurry photo is possibly his great great grandfather who worked there. I attempted to zoom in on a tiny photo of the employees that was on the far wall of a glass display case.
Of course we enjoyed the old fire engine and buggies. (He has his grandpa's eyes!)
There was plenty of antique equipment associated with wheat harvest.
This is an original 33 mule team combine...with plastic mules of course. His Great Great Grandfather (Pops) and Pops brother Speedo* worked with mule teams during harvest. To its right is an original wagon that hauled the wheat behind four huge draft horses. The guy who "sacked" the wheat earned $5 a day.
"Hey Grandma," he called, "Come over here and take a picture of this scary baby!"
Eeek. She sure is.
*The name Speedo was his moniker long before there were any swimsuits adorned with that tag. He earned that nick name in 1908, when he caught a fly in mid air while eating breakfast in his high chair.
Black and White Sunday
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