Morning snack

We woke up Friday to about 5 inches of snow in our backyard. It's been hard to keep Bean in the house since then. She keeps grabbing her boots and saying, "Ow-side. Ow-side Mama. Snow, dey's 'now."

I've been sick so spending half an hour shivering while she dives into piles of snow is not my idea of fun right now. But when Mike went out to shovel the driveway I gave in.

I should preface this by saying that Lu is in a stage where she wants to imitate everything I do. And I mean everything, from sweeping to wrapping presents to going pee in the potty. And I've known for awhile that this penchant for imitation does extend to the dog. We've had to explain to her several times that eating grass and going through the dog door are not things we really want her to do.

So I wasn't surprised when I looked up from talking to Mike as he was shoveling and found them both eating the newfallen snow. You've gotta smile - what kid doesn't like eating snow?

My only concern is whether, as winter progresses, she'll be able to understand that there are just certain types of snow that you don't want to eat.

Characters

I was thinking the other day of how to create characters in a piece of writing. How to encapsulate a complex persona into a snapshot for the purposes of a story. It's hard and it often means resorting to stereotypes, which is something I cringe at. For me, more often then not, it means expereimenting until I find the right details. Only with those telling details does the picture I paint begin to ring true.

So I began to revisit some of the "character" poems, or portraits, I've written. One jumped out at me. I had almost forgotten my first Italian teacher. A character if I've ever met one.

Gustavo Foscarini

L'uomo basso e forte –
You are as short and stocky
as a Pyrenees mountain pony.

Your unruly grey beard is
a shaggy carpet that explodes off your face
like a snake out of a can,
hiding two ears folded open like
advent-calendar doors.

A sense of humor to match
your vivacious eyebrows,
which periodically bounce up and
down like a child playing peek-a-boo.

You remind me of Nino twenty years from now,
hands that leap and dance
to the rhythm of your trombone tones.

The classic Italian gentleman --
polite, nosy, charming,
relaxed.
I wonder why you left Italia,
and if you have any grandchildren.

I think you were born in the South,
where enjoyment and good wine
are prima di tutto
and passione sizzles in the blood like oil
in an August frying pan,
where there is no word for lust, only l'amore.

One day I'll ask you these things,
if you know of La Madonna del Castello,
the legends and frescos beneath her salty floor,
if the smell of aglio and basilico
are a wooden spoon that stirs memories,
and if you are ever tempted to go back
to the language where "stress" doesn't translate.

Goal: Climb Mt. Rose, Status: FINALLY!

There's this mountain. Being smack up against the eastern side of the Sierras there's a lot of mountains around here, but there's one in particular that I've been wanting to climb for awhile. She is the tallest peak this side of Tahoe, and easy to spot from almost anywhere in Reno. In the winter there is nothing lovelier than her bright snow-covered peak above the gray desert scrub.

For three years I have been wanting to climb to the top. The first summer I made serious plans to climb the peak I found out I was pregnant. I still tried to climb it, but by the time Mike's field season was over and we had time to do it I was six months along. To my credit I made it half-way up, but the top was more than I could do at that point. However, I was ok with that. I just figured I would do it the following year with Luci in a carrier on my back, as opposed to in my stomach. That didn't pan out either. Finishing my lecturing contract with UNR, nursing and caring for a baby, while at the same time getting me and the Bean ready to join Mike at his field site for the summer turned out to be a lot. Oh, and we planned a BBQ with 40+ people for my friend's family who were visiting from the Basque country. As always Mt. Rose kept getting shoved down the priority list.

And alas, after the huge 3-week vacation to Bear Lake and Yellowstone in addition to all the other summer craziness I thought I was going to miss out again. Add to this that the trail head is only a half-hour drive from our house and you can understand my frustration!

But not this time! My parents decided to take Luci for a few days after Thanksgiving to give Mike and I some much needed time to catch up - with each other and our to-do lists. And so we jumped on the opportunity Sunday and FINALLY climbed Mt. Rose. Ordinarily I would have thought this would be too late in the season, but with as little snow as we've had it wasn't a problem. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled we were able to climb to the top but I'm not thrilled about the lack of snow that high up (10,776 ft.). It was a little under 10 miles round trip - a pretty good day hike - but we managed to do it in about five and a half hours. Not too bad for as out-of-shape as we've felt lately.

About half-way up to the summit is a waterfall, which we've been to a number of times. It makes for a great half-day hike. It was really funny to see the entire thing frozen solid.

From the waterfall you wind out east through a valley and then the trail curves up along a creek bed and up the west side of the peak. This is a summit view of the valley and waterfall.

I'm a big one on texture. I absolutely love natural patterns and textures, especially wood and stone. Near the summit there was a fallen lodge-pole pine whose roots had obviously weathered a few winters. I couldn't resist the texture.

It was cloudy and overcast, and the wind gusts near the summit were almost unbearable. But, the views of Tahoe, Donner Lake, Reno, and Washoe Valley were worth it.

We spent some time at the top snacking on nuts and dates we'd brought. This is otherwise known as the "OMG, gimmee calories 'cause I'm about to die," period where we enjoy the view and recover before we head back down. And where we take the obligatory summit shots.

And then we came home, made dinner and a fire, and spent the rest of the evening curled up under a down comforter feeling sore and content.

Run to Feed the Hungry 5K: Celebration pics

I didn't have time to upload these for the initial post but since I'm still basking in the runner's high I thought I'd share.

Mike and I near the finish line once the crowd thinned out and we finally found each other

My wonderful Papa who came and sat for over an hour just to see me finish.
He was as happy as I was

Goal: Run a 5K Before the end of the year, Status: DID IT!

What do you get when you mix 22,000 people at 9 a.m. in 40-ish degree weather? My first instinct would be some sort of stadium-based game. Or perhaps angry post-Thankgiving shoppers who were locked out of their favorite store by a mischevious employee? Either way, I expect people to be frustrated, pissy, and pushing each other. The last thing I expected was laughter, smiles, and sincere apologies when I got bumped. I can see now the true power and positive energy that can happen when thousands upon thousands of people come together for fun and a good cause.



The Sacramento Food Bank was able to raise roughly $600,000 for the charitable work they do in the greater Sacramento area. And being a part of that felt so incredibly good that I hardly thought about the mile markers until I saw the finish line just ahead of me. I can't remember ever being in a crowd that moved with such fluidity and grace for such a long distance. The Food Bank even arranged for live bands to play along the route to keep everyone's spirits up.


All I could think during the race as I saw other families and individuals running beside me was how much I would love to be a part of something like this every year, regardless of where we live.


Of course with everything there are good and bad details that come with the expereince. Here's a few:


Bad
--The traffic!! OMG 22,000 people, even carpooling, make for one hell of a traffic jam!

--Halfway into this traffic jam I remembered that I forgot my inhaler at the house (yes, I am blonde sometimes)

--Due to the previous two things I got there late and had to start with the walkers instead of the runners. Crowded!! Much zigzagging in order to actually run for the first bit.

--Being so pressed for time that I forgot to arrange a meeting place to find Mike and Papa after the race. Note to future participants (me included): without a prearranged meeting spot it takes roughly 1 hour 15 minutes to find your peeps in a crowd that large.


Good
--The people!!! People were so nice and so helpful, especially when I couldn't find Mike and Papa. I hate, and I mean HATE, people who ask to borrow your cell phone. But after an hour I got so worried that I had to do something. In asking directions at one point, a woman who learned the situation offered her cell phone of her own accord.

--The running felt so good and I felt so strong. I was trying to be careful and not let that little competative bug drive me to run faster than I was capable and exhaust myself too soon. But I still ran at a pretty good clip. By the end I felt like I could still go for another mile at least.

--Knowing that, in spite of all the chaos of the last month, I was still able to meet my goal.

--Having my Papa and my hubbie there to cheer me on at the end (granted they weren't sure which blonde in black pants and an event t-shirt was me, but they were cheering regardless) :)

--And, of course, eating Thanksgiving dinner and not worrying that I would gain any weight from it!


And, if anyone is interested, here's the link to the Sac Bee story about the event itself:
http://www.sacbee.com/101/story/512203.html

Wordless Wednesday: Thoughts before the race

In Defense

Like we ever had any doubts, but . . .
Mike had his thesis defense today and he passed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Don't get me wrong, his committee still wants him to make a few minor revisions to the manuscript. The manuscript still has to be submitted to the graduate school. The two chapters of his thesis still need work so they can be submitted to various journals for publication. . .
But this as about as close to saying "It's DONE!" as we're going to get. The papers have been signed and that's what's important.

Frogive a poor girl a little celebratory cheer:
YYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My master's degree was hard, given that it coincided with our wedding. But I never anticipated how much work it would take, on both our parts, to get through Mike's degree. But he did it! We did it! Yeah!!!!!!!!!

I keep telling him, I know it sounds cheesy, but I'm so proud. He has worked so hard and done so much. Being out in the field, up all night trapping birds in March's single digit weather. Pulling trucks out of the mud, repairing tents that collapsed in the snow, radio tracking birds in July heat, hiking up and down mountains trying to find the more elusive hens. Dealing with a wife and small daughter and trying to give us everything we need and deserve in spite of an overwhelming work load. Cheesy or not my husband effing rocks!

I tried to think last night about all the things we've been through and the challenges we've had to overcome. But it made my head hurt thinking about spending so much time away from each other during the field season the first year, driving out to the field site for four days every other weekend after sqeezing a 40 hour week into three days, the dread we faced when we found out I was pregnant and thought he might have to quit, the financial strain. There's no point making a complete list at this point. We did it together and it made us both realize how strong and capable we can be, both apart and together.

It was a long, dusty road to walk, but we made it. And, truth be told, that dusty sagebrush desert hides an awful lot of beauty if you look up and focus on something besides your tired legs.

If you could be any animal. . .

Not what I would have anticipated, but it's growing on me.

You're a Mongoose!

Famous and fabled, you are well-loved by those around you, especially
those above you. You rise to many challenges, and your speed and agility allow you
to outwit those you don't like and others hate. While you don't appear vicious,
your unassuming appearance helps draw people into underestimating you. You really
like the name Rikki.


Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Arrggh, meet Anne Bonney

Halloween was the night all hell broke loose. Literally. That was when the call came from my mom that Papa had just gone into cardiac arrest and been taken to the ICU. Half and hour later we were on the road.

Two weeks later and weaker but recovered Papa is back at home and doing OK for the moment. And I am finally home pulling the pieces of my life back into place. With a lot of effort, a child that won't sleep, and a calm but crazed husband who is defending his master's thesis this Friday.

And in classic pagan tradition, before all hell broke loose there was much celebration!!

But first some background. Halloween has always been a holiday that I have held close to my heart. I feel sometimes like it is part of my identity. Not because I am evil (though some will argue here), and not because I like to dress up or pretend to be someone else (I don't), but because my birthday falls just two days before All Hallow's eve. And because more than 50% of my birthday parties since puberty have been Halloween costume parties.

This year was no exception! The exception in this case was the sheer number of people I shared the party with. You see, between my softball team and Mike's department there are 7, count them, 7 birthdays between Oct. 13 and Oct. 29. Granted Mike and I are two of them, but still. Several people within this group thought it would be fun (and efficient) if we just threw one party to celebrate the overwhelming number of birthdays, Halloween, and the end of the softball season. I agreed, and in a moment of sheer insanity, offered to have it at our house. I guess an inner part of me figured I should end our two softball seasons the way I began them - by shooting off my big mouth. What this provided was an opportunity for the Bean to show off what she is made of.

(The only thing missing is her parrot puppet, which she carried around religiously at times)

We decided awhile ago, based on various coincidences, that Bean should be a pirate for Halloween. In honor of Talk Like a Pirate Day I had stumbled on a quiz that tells you your true pirate name. Prior to Halloween I revisited the quiz and entered what I thought would have been Luci's responses to the questions (the questions that involved Muppets were easy.) Come to find out her pirate name is none other than Anne Bonney. Fearsome, independent, and blood-thirsty - that's my girl! (I'm intentionally excluding the sexually promiscuous, violent, and law-breaking tendencies here for obvious reasons).

Anne Bonney and her pirate love, John Rackham.

In spite of her fierce reputation, Pirate Bean still had time to enjoy a pony ride

Now if only we could get her to take the costume off!!!

Superman Reflexes

A friend sent this to me. Superman is not necessarily my favorite, but the game does satisfy the inner part of me that has always longed to be a photographer.

http://hk.promo.yahoo.com/movie/superman/Stop_Press_Game/

Keep Writing

Keep writing, keep writing, keep writing. As a writing student, and as a writing teacher I have both heard and recited these words more times than I can count. So why does it never seem to sink in when I sit down to write?


Good question.


Writer's block is very egalitarian. It sees no race, class, religion, or intellectual barriers. It effects us all. People all over the world are affected by it, and with literacy rates increasing so is its prevalence. It's not quite like birth and death, which we all expereince regardless of how our lives are lived. But it is more deeply rooted than the globalization/Americanization of the world. I mean people choose to go to McDonald's or drink a Coke. No one chooses writer's block.


You see I'm trying to write up some materials for the Japan Exchange and Teaching Program, a last ditch effort for us to live abroad for awhile. Mike and I gave up on that dream a few months ago for financial and logistical reasons. And then last week Mike got an informational email.

What can I say? When things like that drop into your mailbox you figure maybe it's a sign. Maybe it's the one more chance we needed and have been looking for. But maybe it's another piece of propaganda that has surfaced to use up more of my already non-existent free time.

I'll never know unless I try, right?


It fits all our requirements, and unlike previous attempts, this time I fulfill all the qualifications with no additional training or certification. But with all the chaos of the last couple weeks and the exhaustion looming over me like a pregnant stormcloud I am stumped. I can't think of a thing to say that doesn't sound like it came from an 8th grader's pen.

I hate writer's block. I hate that I feel ineloquent, incompetant, and unfocused. So I am reduced to the old mantra: keep writing, keep writing, keep writing, the initial effort is the hardest, revision will be easier, keep writing, keep writing, keep writing.

Every Other Friday

Papa was an electrician. He worked nine 9s, as they like to call it. Or nine 9-hour days every two weeks. Every other Friday Papa would pick me up at my Mom's work. This was our day. First we went to breakfast, then we would go to the Sacramento Zoo and/or Fairytale Town.

Afterward we would go to the Bank of Alex Brown, pick up Nana from work, and take her to lunch. Afterward we might do some errands for Mom and Nana, if we weren't too tired.

I still remember sitting in Papa's arms in the parking lot, ready for our day of fun.

Being an only grandchild has it's perks.

Monster on my back

A Brief Running Update

The one nice thing about times of stress is that I run a lot, and with 15 days left until the 5K race for Run to Feed the Hungry I need to be training more anyway. Since I'm pulling all-nighters at the hospital I'm trying not to overdo it. So far I can consistently run 1.6 miles and still feel strong at the end.


But the asthma monster still has his claws in my back and is hanging on with a vengance.

Memories of Home

I was sifting through some old writing and I found this poem that I published in 2000. There are a lot of memories packed into it - raw, rough, and liberating memories. It makes me proud of where I come from, but extremely glad I've moved on and created something new.

At the same time it also makes me miss all the unplanned, spur-of-the-moment camping trips we took so frequently in high school and college.


Union Valley Reservoir, Peavine Ridge

The sun rises, my sister and I strip off late night layers
and dive into home. Lake water glasses bare bodies.

I am molting,
shedding the covering the world has given me.
Cerulean surrounds my new flesh

as I sun on the rocks, scratching dead skin from
my senseful limbs.

She sits unclothed beside me
gnawing at roots, trying to taste her past.

Ants slink over toenails
and rest in the crevices of my feet.

I have been naked in these woods for hundreds of years,
she says,

her bare flesh slipping through the space
between time's cupped fingers.

We were here before Gold Rush nights
when men would kill for minerals,

before Jack, Dick and McConnell named themselves
on the peaks of Crystal Range,

before Hangtown was a tourist attraction
and Moore's Overland Pony Express trail was Safe-
way lit.

She inhales pine and dry granite, exhales dawnlight
and looks across the lake

to the shedded skins we will crawl back into.

Name games

I've been looking at names a lot lately. I'm not sure why. History, meaning, and geneology always seem to become more interesting when thinking about birth or death.

In my random internet wanderings I found a lot of neat things. My married name means "son of Adam," though there's no one named Adam in my family tree that I know of. I've known for a long time that my first name means "brilliantly clear," which is a quality I strive for in my everyday communication but don't always achieve.

The one I enjoyed the most was finally finding my full name written in Japanese katakana:

Science & Sex: Or How to Seriously Confuse your Kid

Outdoor enthusiasts. Wildlife nuts. Environmentalists. However you want to put it Mike and I both get really excited about the natural world. We watched the entire 11-hour BBC series "Planet Earth" and I can't wait to see the encore presentation later this month. (How cool is the first-ever film footage of a snow leopard catching prey?! C'mon!) To put it another way, I bought the Handy Science Answer Book for fun.

When I say this it should come as no surprise that I've already explained to my 21-month-old daughter that all mammals have breasts.

I mean when a kid points at your breasts in the shower and says "Was dat?" what else are you supposed to say?
"Those are mama's boobies. You have boobies too."
She looks down at her chest. "Me?"
"Yes, you. See."

And so the conversation has continued, as all toddler conversations do.
"Mama?"
"Yes, Mama has boobies"
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Daddy has boobies."

"Me?"

"Yep, you have 'em too."

"Dogdog?"

"Yes, Dogdog has boobies too. That's 'cause she's a mammal. All mammals have boobies."

Enough repetitions and I thought we had this down. Until today.

My grandma had breast cancer and a double mastectomy by the time she was 50. She's had prosthesis almost my entire life and it's omething we're all very used to. There are tales of me putting on her bra (fakes and all) backward and wearing it like a backpack around the house. Stories abound. And today we added another one to the canon.

Luci was running around the living room and found herself at one point seated in Nana's lap. She looked down at Nana's chest and noticed that, for a change, the obligatory bumps were not where they should be.

"Boobies?" she asked, and then proceeded to lift up Nana's shirt and search for them. When she couldn't find them in the typical place she looked under her arms, around on her sides and even down under the waistband of her pants.

Thoroughly confused she got down, ran over to my mom and lifted up her shirt: "Boobies." She lifted up her shirt: "Boobies." She ran back over to my Nana: "Boobies?"

My mom had to leave the room she was laughing so hard.

Ok, kid. I give in. Science is not exact. I guess there is an exception to every rule.

Of course the one that will really screw her up is when she sees Star Wars and the singer in the cantina on Tatooine.

Seven Things I Like about the ICU

1. The food is significantly better than it is in the rest of the hospital. It even smells appetizing.

2. The nurses know me by name. They've talked to me about his meds, his disposition, his appetite. And I've learned enough at this point that they often ask me what's been going on if they can't get a hold of the doctor.

3. It's easy to get the help you need. My Papa has charmed so many of them that if we need anything, from a pudding cup to a crash cart, someone is there before I even have a chance to think about waiting. It also helps that each nurse has only two patients and there are a couple extra nurses whose only job is fill in where an extra hand is needed.

4. The room is really big. I suppose it has to be since when things go south they often need about 8 nurses and doctors in there to get his heart rate straightened out. But when things are going well, man is it spacious and comfy. Big window, and even your own tiny toilet.

5. The nursing staff is really considerate. Given the amount of stress and crisis in that small area, everyone is really aware of not treating these very serious patients like pieces of meat. No one ever forgets to give Papa his privacy. Each nurse who has to put in a new I.V. (and with all the blood thinners this happens pretty frequently) is really careful to not cause him any more pain than absolutely necessary, and actively expresses their desire not to make him into a pincushion.

6. Considering what's typically going on in the ICU, it's fairly quiet. You can see people moving around but the rooms themselves are fairly insulated from it all, which is a real blessing at times. One room and one failing family member is enough at times.

7. Being with my Papa and doing what I can to make him more comfortable and help him feel better.

A Sour November

I really hope this last week is not an indicator of how the month of November is going to be.

So far I've been in the emergency room with my friend and her 13-month-old baby, spent 3 days in ICU with my grandfather, and help my friend put her dog down. And that's just since Sunday.

I had a whole list of post ideas and things I wanted to write about this month, but at the moment I can't remember a damn one. A few had to do with food, but the last thing I an is hungry. Right now food is just sustenance, a way to keep going. I think another had to do with aging, since my birthday was Monday. But after watching my grandpa go through v-fib and get shocked back into consciousness, age is not a topic I think I'm ready to talk about with much clarity at the moment.

And I'm not looking forward to the meltdown I know will come when all this is over. I guess I'm one of those who's fine until everything and everyone are taken care of. Only then do I figure it's safe to collapse and let it all out.

Good topics require reflection, and I'm afraid I don't have time for much of that at the moment. But in the spirit of NaBloPoMo I need to keep writing, and in that maybe I find some catharsis and hopefully by the end I'll be able to find some good topics too.

Wordless Thursday: Autumnfest

(It should be Wednesday, and it should be wordless. But, well, this is what you get).

For family who were at Autumnfest I'll try to upload all the pictures plus this short sampling onto flickr or send them out via Kodak so you all have copies of the Three Stooges. For non-family, the Three Stooges refers to three cousins, all girls, all born within 9 months of each other. This is the first time they've been together since they all learned how to walk. And, as you can see above, their older cousins JD and JR got to join in the fun too. What chaos! What fun!

Today I am Rocky!

Imagine me at the top of the stairs, dancing, throwing punches. Arms over my head yelling victoriously. Why? Because today my lungs and I went head to head, and for a change I won!

My lungs and I fight a lot. Especially when I’m running. They are a spirited and stubborn pair. Given the importance of breathing to that whole consciousness and physical well-being thing, they usually win. (Asthma attacks suck in case no one ever mentioned it.)

My asthma usually cuts in about the time my legs find their rhythm. In fact, it’s a rare occurrence when my legs are sore after a run. My lungs won’t let me go at a fast enough pace or for long enough to really get a burn going.

But not today!!

It’s been a long time since I could run two miles without stopping to walk or take a breath for a second. I don’t usually have to stop for very long, but I do have to stop and walk for a bit. For a lot of people running two miles is no big deal. I understand this. I know I haven’t done anything that impressive. But given the sad state of my lungs lately (and it’s been pretty sad), I am giddy beyond belief. We’ll forget the cough and minor wheeze that tells me my poor lungs are inflamed as hell. I just ran two miles without stopping dammit!!!

It was a good day. Tomorrow marks exactly one month before race day.

NaBloPoMo 2007

So my friend Tracy has turned me on to National Blog Posting Month. It's a one-month challenge to post something on your blog every day of November. Yep, thirty days of consecutive posts. As they say on the website, think of "NaBloPoMo as a writing exercise, as an easier-to-accomplish alternative to the marathon that inspired it: National Novel Writing Month."

We'll see if I can do it. I make no promises with a wee one wanting to be in my lap or in my arms incessantly. I think of it like the 5K I plan on running on Thanksgiving Day -- if I can do it, wow. Let me prove to myself that it's possible. I need challenges like that lately.

Bedtime Ritual

Mom lays her down in the crib, a sleepy-eyed Toddler who keeps shaking her head no -- she's not tired. Coaxed into compliance she settles dutifully into her blankets, clutching Big Bird. Mom turns out the lights and settles down in the chair next to her, staring at the clock.

7:47. Fifteen minutes and I might be out of here she thinks.

The routine is established. "Baa Baa Black Sheep" or "Twinkle, twinkle" must be sung at least five times if not more until the eyes begin to droop. Back rubbing is optional, it depends on the Toddler's mood. After a few minutes the singing must get softer and softer until it is barely a whisper. A whisper which, on her hoarser days, reminds Mom of something out of a horror movie. She finds it disturbing but the Toddler doesn't seem affected. And then we wait. This is where Mom's internal monologue always seems to take over.

Remember, don't look. Everytime I look at her, comforting, adoring, whatever, she stays awake. Must convince her Mom . . . gotta stop referring to myself in the third person dammit . . . I'm not available any more today. I'm not going to play, kiss, laugh or tickle. I am a comforting body, no more. Besides a watched kid never sleeps. Though a watched dog seems to do just fine. Crashed out in the dark doorway, oblivious to the world. 7:51. Why do I bother? Lately she never goes to sleep before 8:00 anyway. Like clockwork. This is my kid -- a mini cuckoo complete with small arms and a delicately carved face. Nap is one hour from when I leave the room, to the minute almost. Bedtime is 8:00. Doesn't matter if we start at 7:05 or 7:35.

I get so restless every night as I sit here. I used to think if I had to sing "Baa Baa Black Sheep" one more time I would scream, but now it's just rote. Like dishes, or brushing teeth. The Buddhist philosophy book I'm reading encourages staying in the moment, expereinceing life as it happens. But it's so hard when it's the same every night. The same viewpoint, the same observations to make. It's hard not to get lost in your own thoughts. Apparently I've still got a long way to go in moving toward stillness of the mind.

She is cute though, curled up on her side with that thatch of blonde covering her one eye. Her arm of purple fleece laying so gently across the blankets. Shit! I know better than to look at her! Now I can hear the arm flop. Once, twice, as she finds that comfortable place again. And the yawn. That sweet little exhale of breath. Like when I pick her up and the force of it creates a whoosh of air on my cheek as I settle her onto my hip. 7:56. Almost.

She is my life in moments like this. I can't escape it. There is nothing else to do, and I am trapped. Like the Sherman traps Mike uses to catch small mammals, it's not uncomfortable. It's roomy, secure, still. But too much stillness, too small, too much time staring at the same walls will drive you mad. Good question -- do the clinically insane stay insane forever, or does the manner in which we lock them up create a self-prepetuating cycle. Again, random morbid thoughts as I put my kid to bed. Great. 7:58.

And now I get to go back to my life outside. The husband I adore. The bank account that scares me and the shortness of breath that is my reality as the seasons change. Like surfacing from a dream, or a bad meditation session. I'm not sure which.

It's a Zoo out there

So, in an effort to catch up on the adventures of the Bean we will be taking you back in time to September 24. Why is this date significant you may ask? Well, it's not.

But it is the first time Bean visited the Zoo. For any other kid this might not be worth mentioning, but in this case it is significant. We will attribute this to the fact that her dad is an ornithologist, her mom is a wanna-be environmental educator, and we've been bombarding her with animal names, noises, and camping trips since she was only a couple months old.

At this point on hikes she notices almost as many birds as her parents (no small feat).

But back to the good stuff. Much of the maternal side of the family - Nana & Papa (my grandparents), Nana Peg (my mom, in orange), and the Giant- rounded up Luci on this particular day and headed to the Sacramento Zoo. No one was sure who was more excited, the Bean or her mom. It was the first time Lu got to see lions, tigers, and giraffes in person, and the first time any of us got to see a red panda up close. With all of the Bean's various signs and words for animals, she split her time between frantically telling us what she saw and just staring. The pictures will fill you in on the rest. But in the end, what was she most interested in?

The sidewalk drain.

Only my kid could embarras me (by sticking her head in the ground) and make me proud (by exploring and wanting to know how the world works) in the exact same moment.

Thanks for playing the Giant's game of catch up. We will now return you to a blog in real time.

Winter has Arrived

Yep, the cold snap came early. And it snapped like only a sassy low pressure system can. "You thought you'd enjoy a nice temperate fall. An Indian summer of orange and yellow aspens, apple spiced cider, and pleasant sunny days followed by crisp evenings. Oh, no you di'n't."

Yes, it has snowed twice, yes twice, here in Reno already. And as much as I love the mountains and the snow that settles softly on them in the winter, could we please, please have a transition here!? Reno is infamous for this kind of seasonal change. We get only three seasons max:

Summer: hot, dry, brown, dusty. Reno in high summer is not something to brag about. The saving grace of summer is that Lake Tahoe is so close. You drive forty-five minutes latitudinally, and ascend about 1500 feet in elevation and BAM, cool off by at least 10 degrees. Also, the Truckee River is a 5-minute drive (or 30 minute walk) with walking paths and lots of good shade trees. And then there's camping. And hiking. And gardening. And BBQs.

Fall: Days are still warm but evenings cool down significantly letting you bundle up in the down comforter while still wearing short sleeves and Chaco's during the day. There's parties and BBQs while everyone still clings to those last days of summer. And hiking. And amazing leaves that make you want to be on a hay ride. And while Tahoe is getting snow dusted on it Reno is still beautiful, resting comfortably on the edge of it all with an ease and grace that lasts until late October.

Winter: freezing, bright. Like ice. Cold but full of light. Reno gets an amazing 345 days of sun a year. Never mind that on some days we struggle to break 40 degrees. And like ice I tend to freeze up in the winter. I love looking at the the snow covered mountains out my window. I love snowshoeing. I love the fires in our fireplace where we curl up and watch movies or listen to music in the evening. But it takes every ounce of will I possess to get outside and hike and be active. The dual edge of this is that if I don't get out I go nuts. I get depressed, stiff, lethargic, sore and apathetic.

Spring: doesn't really exist. We go from snow to 70 degrees to snow to 80 degrees and then it's summer.

So you can see why I am loathe to head directly into winter. Fall is not only my favorite season, it's the ONLY transition we have.

Odd that in a time of imminent transition in our lives (Mike finishing his Master's) the weather gods refuse to grant me an easy transition into the most challenging of seasons. I really hope this isn't a portent of things to come.

Sisters in Crime

Sensitive Spots

In spite of being majorly annoyed at the moment, I had an epiphany the other day. But first, let me digress.
I have a thing about my neck. Call it a phobia. Call it a byproduct of too much martial training. I hate, and I mean hate to have my neck touched, grabbed, handled etc. Especially the front part. My shoulders scrunch up and become knotty, like the oak that broke our wood splitter when I was young. My best friend grabbed me around the neck and put me in a head lock once, to see what my response would be, she said. I hit her in the stomach before I knew what I was doing. It’s not a moment I’m proud of. But I panicked.

Back to the present. Bean has this thing with my face and neck. She must touch, massage, rub, and otherwise have one or both hands in contact with that part of my body whenever she’s trying to go to sleep. Her most recent fetish is with a mole on my lower jaw where it meets my neck. It drives me nuts. But trying to take away her comfort zone, her “happy place” as her dad calls it, makes her extremely upset.

And it occurred to me yesterday, as I was putting her to sleep, that this is where our kids live. In those soft, vulnerable places that we don’t let the rest of the world touch. They will bring our best and our worst. They will embarrass and worry us like no one else can. And no matter how hard you may try to defend yourself and keep them out of those places, they will inevitably snuggle, wiggle, and smile their way into that sensitive spot (which makes it hard to maintain your cool when they are pushing your buttons). But I realize now, with a sigh and a smile, that this is where their supposed to live.

AGGIES: Another overdue update

In September the UC Davis Aggies (Mike and my alma mater) had the first game in their brand new stadium. Not necessarily noteworthy unless you are a huge Aggie fan, which ironically we're kinda not.

But, I should mention that Mike's college roomate Troy was a starting offensive lineman all four years he attended Davis. So when he called and said he and his wife and baby son were going to the game, of course we had to go.


Synopsis: It was HOT (103 F)! We doused Lu (and ourselves) with water until we just couldn't take it anymore. We found shade as best we could (see Troy's baby J below), but you'd think in a place like Davis, where weather over 100 is the norm for a month and a half during the late summer, they would provide some sort of shade - just a little. But no. Top it off with the fact that we lost the game. Uggggh!

So after halftime (can't miss the Band-uh!) we headed to Woodstocks, ate pizza and caught up with Mike's other college roommate Benson. It was good to be back and see everyone. It's odd, and we've talked about this for years. I miss Davis, but I don't. Mike misses the good times he had there. We both miss biking everywhere with such ease. We both miss Hapkido a lot. I miss the smell of jasmine everywhere and the downtown center. But sometimes you're never sure if what you miss is the place or the memories associated with the place. (The fun question to explore is whether or not you can separate the two. Place is a funny thing - it's so much more than just a location on a map.)









We, of course, had to get Luci an Aggies T-shirt, which I am proud to say she now asks for by name. She gets into her dresser drawer and looks at me saying "Adgg-ie, Adgg-ie." Who says stuff like this doesn't run in the family?

Kissing Cousins

From August . . .
now that I FINALLY have my pictures back.
These are our nieces and nephew, JR, JD, and Sam.

The Trip: Part II, Yellowstone and AOU

OK, I know it's been awhile. But between Photoworks messing up my account and my Papa having knee surgery, well, updating the trip blog got shoved down the priority list.

Let me recap. Early August we went on a family trip to Bear Lake with Mike's parents, Mike's sister and her daughter SJ, and my other niece and nephew JD & JR. Much chaos and merriment ensued. The key part for us was that when we all went our separate ways G-ma & G-pa took the Bean with them.

I had really been looking forward to the two weeks Mike and I would have to ourselves. I knew I'd miss her, but I wasn't really worried about being apart from her for all that time. That sentiment, so different from other moms I know, worried me a bit. So, strange as it sounds, I was really glad when the tears rolled down my face as they drove off.

But then came the fun stuff. Anyone who knows me and Mike knows that we're crazy about the outdoors, and wildlife in particular. So Grand Teton and Yellowstone was a dream come true - even if it was only for five days (a few weeks might be enough, but probably not). There was so much more we would have liked to see, but since we had such a short time we decided to hit the highlights and make a list of stuff to include on future trips. Doesn't it always work this way?

So here's the highlights, short and sweet as I can make 'em. C'mon, it's Yellowstone! I could go on for hours.

• Old Faithful & the Upper Geyser Basin. Of course we had to see the main attraction. It had been easily a decade since Mike or I had seen it last. But as cool as Yellowstone’s best-known attraction can be it wasn’t the best one by a long shot. Morning Glory hot spring, about a mile walk down the paved path, had the most amazing colors. And Beehive geyser, which the ranger told us only erupts every couple days, was absolutely fantastic (this link describes it better than I ever could).

• Mammoth Hot Springs and Beaver Lakes. Our second day we headed up to the northwestern corner of Jellystone to check out the Mammoth Hot Springs and do a 5-mile loop hike I read about the hike in our Lonely Planet guidebook. The trail took us up through the mountains at the base of the Gallatin Range to two algae-filled ponds called Beaver Lakes. Beautiful views of Sepulcher Mountain and we even got to see a beaver swimming in one of the ponds. It rained on us toward the end and we had to take cover under some trees, but on the up side we met a wonderful family visiting from Israel.

• Wildlife. The list is not as extensive as we might have liked but we got to see quite a bit. More than we thought we would anyway. And though the views maybe more close-up on Animal Planet, in person is way cooler. Forgive all the bird species (what can I say? I married an ornithologist?)
Mammals: Beaver, Moose, Grizzly bear, Wolf, Bison, Elk, Mule deer, Pronghorn antelope (the fastest land mammal in N. America!), Coyote.
Birds: Sandhill crane, Trumpeter swans, Gray Jay, Barn swallows & Violet-green swallows, Red-tailed hawks, Ravens, Kestrels, Williamson’s sapsucker, Bald eagle, Osprey, Lesser Scaup, Mountain chickadees, Western tanager (female), Broad-tailed or Calliope hummingbird (?), Empidonax flycatcher.

• Lamar Valley. We spent a full day in the valley affectionately known in the park as the Serengeti of the American West. All I can say is WOW! This broad open valley, rimmed by incredible ridges and peaks, is where we saw at least half the species on our list. When we got there we were a bit tired from out 5-mile hike the day before so we decided to just take a short 1.5 mile walk along the valley floor, see what we could see, and then turn back. Well, about 1.4 miles out Mike looked up on a nearby rise and started poking me in the side and pointing. The brown spot he pointed to turned out to be two grizzly bear cubs (complete with the hump on the back and silvery points on the fur). The first thought that crossed both our minds was “Oh sh%t, where’s Mama?” We watched them for 20 minutes or so standing back to back, with one of us looking at them through the binos and the other scanning the surroundings for big mama. We never saw her thank goodness. That evening as we headed back to camp we stopped on the roadside a few times in hopes of seeing one of the wolves from the Druid pack or the Slough Creek pack that inhabit the valley. At our last stop we got our wish. It was at quite a distance so I don’t have a good photo though.

• Grand Tetons and that f*!#ing roll of film. Our last day in the area time constraints made hiking out of the question so we did a bit of wildlife watching near the southern end of Jackson Lake. We didn’t see much, so we went into Jackson Hole to spend the afternoon at the Wildlife Art Museum and go to dinner to celebrate our anniversary (see below). The next morning we got up early to see what we could see before starting the drive for Laramie. We had heard rumors of moose and bear. We stopped at joined a crowd gathered just off the road. Sure enough, it was a moose munching on a tree. A few people kept creeping closer, which made us all a bit nervous but the moose didn’t seem to mind. So I thought, “Well, why not? I’ll creep up, snap a couple photos and sneak out.” So I did. And I was able to snap almost a whole roll of film crouched in the grass about 35 feet from it. Talk about amazing. And dangerous. But here’s the clincher. When I sent the film to Photoworks to have it developed, guess which roll produced nothing but exposed greyness? Naturally the one with the closest, most incredible wildlife shots of the trip. Ahhhhrrrrgggg!

Other bonuses.
• Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone: amazing, both visually and geologically.
• Artist’s Paint pots: smelly but beautiful.
• Lewis Falls: I found a very interesting railing. It looks runic but I think it was bugs. Hayden Valley: at least as good for wildlife viewing as the Lamar Valley, maybe better. We didn’t have much time to explore it, which was one of our main regrets as we left.
• Jackson Hole. We ate at The Gun Barrel Steak & Game House. Expensive but highly worth it. I had elk medallions and Mike had the elk chops and buffalo ribs. The chops were soft, melt-in-your-mouth good. Like nothing either of us had ever had before. And strawberry rhubarb cobbler for dessert . . . Mmmmm. I went to bed a happy woman.

After Grand Teton and Jellystone we headed to the American Ornithologists Union conference in Laramie, Wy where Mike presented some of the analyses he’s done on his Sage grouse data. It’s been a couple years since I’ve been to an academic conference, and it was really nice to be able to engage people on that level and learn about some of the current research going on.

In the end it turned out to be a good trip. And a nice anniversary present for the two of us (weird to think that it’s already 6 years!). We know it wasn’t easy on the heels of a long vacation, but thanks again Mom & Dad!

The "Latest" . . .

Friends are always asking what Lucine is up to so I thought I would post the most recent tid-bits.

• She will yell as loud as she can and then look at me and say "Uh-oh."

• Love, and I mean loves the wind. We put the windows down in the car and she squeals and waves her arms.

• She tried to pick up dog poop with a paper towel yesterday.

• Has discovered that the spacer for my inhaler makes cool sounds when she blows into it. She wanders around the house using it as a horn/kazoo.

Pirates are me favorite!

Ever since our discovery of FSMism, I've had a soft place in my heart for pirates.

My pirate name is:

Bloody Ethel Rackham

Every pirate lives for something different. For some, it's the open sea. For others (the masochists), it's the food. For you, it's definitely the fighting. You have the good fortune of having a good name, since Rackham (pronounced RACKem, not rack-ham) is one of the coolest sounding surnames for a pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
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