BEAN'S TALK

New locations

2008-01-31T14:48:00.001-08:00

I've never been good at long lead ins when I have something important to say, so I'll just get right to it.

WE'RE MOVING!

Both in real space and in virtual space.

Mike got a job with the Washington department of Fish and Game. And we'll be moving up there in less than a week. We've been wishing, hoping, dreaming of a new job, maybe a new town, and moving past graduate student life - which we've thoroughly enjoyed. But we're ready for something new. Apparently the gods heard us. With a vengence!!

Also, I wanted to let you all know that this site will no longer be active after today. It will still be accessible for awhile but all the content, as well as any new posts have been moved to wordpress. You can visit us at:

http://atamian.wordpress.com/

Please change your bookmarks and links, and visit us often. I'm hoping it will be a good way to keep in touch for those of you who we won't be seeing as often anymore. I feel the need to move on, to let a lot of things go. This blog site, for whatever reason, needs to be one of those things.

But I have one request. This time LEAVE COMMENTS :) I never got very many on this blog, yet when I would talk to people they would always tell me that they had enjoyed the blog. I gotta tell you guys, it's hard to feel like you have an audience when they don't talk back. It doesn't matter if you have a blog or not, or even if you have a wordpress ID. The comment doesn't even have to be realted to the post! You can leave comments at any time. I would love to hear from you.

Many blessings,
Crystal

Wordless Wednesday: After more than a week of non-stop snow

2008-01-30T16:02:00.000-08:00

Up to Date Part 1: Lu's Birthday

2008-01-30T14:43:00.000-08:00

So, I've been ofline for quite some time. For good reasons, that I'll address in another post. But in the interests of family who use this to keep track of what we're up to, I thought I'd back track a bit.

Bean's birthday, though there have only been two of them, have been very non-traditional. What can I say I'm a non-traditional type of gal.

(Coincidently, Bean's birthday is also the birthday of my college roomate who I'm very fond of and admire tremendously. And the added joy this year is that she got engaged on her birthday! Congrats Jen!)
Last year, we figured Lu wouldn't care wither way, so we went snowshoeing on her birthday. This year, burnt out from the holidays and aching to get outside, we figured we would make it a tradition. (I love non-traditional traditions, don't you?).

It was sunny and COLD, with the sharp gray front of winter inching over the mountains as we walked. I carried the Bean while Mike got back in the swing with his cross-country skiis. It was fun but we kept it short.

Photos for fun:

Now for the candles. Yes, in spite of our lax attitude last year we did make sure she got a cake (cheesecake). This year she got carrot muffins.

Photos for fun:

And after our snowshoe Sunday some other friends surprised us with a second cake for the Bean. It was beautiful, and put my mom skills to shame. She demonstrated that this was THE CAKE she had always wanted by sticking her face squarly on the edge and taking a huge bite! My little chocoholic emerges!

**As a totally unrealted side note, I've decided, after much troubles the last month or so that I'm SICK of blogspot. I'll probably be changing over to wordpress.com soon. Stay tuned for details.

Meme Me

2008-01-14T16:42:00.000-08:00

Although I've been tempted by memes, I've tried to avoid them so far. But since I've been tagged by my friend Tracy, I guess I'll give in. Though I must admit that I've changed a few things :)

Seven sets of eight things

8 things I am passionate about
the conservation and preservation of the environment
natural child birth
local, organic food
the need of every human to be loved, to laugh, and run around naked sometimes
my family, immediate and extended
writing
birds
gardening and digging my hands in the soil

8 things I want to do before I die
travel to New Zealand
learn to play the banjo
go back to Germany with Mike
pamper myself at a day spa
be able to better identify birds and plants, and learn as much natural history about them as possible
own a cabin and a small expanse of land
speak another language semi-fluently
get my 2nd degree black belt in Hapkido and my 1st degree in aikido

8 things I say often
All right
6 of one, half a dozen of the other
No worries
LU-CINE!
. . .
The rest eludes me,
I talk to myself a lot but I'm not usually paying that much attention

8 books I WANT to read
The Art of Peace - Morihei Ueshiba
The Armenians - John M. Douglas
The Best American Science Writing 2006 - ed. Atul Gawande
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle - Barbara Kingsolver
Coming Home to Eat - Gary P. Nabhan
Guns, Germs, and Steel - Jared Diamond
The God Delusion - Richard Dawkins
Eat, Love, Pray - Elizabeth Gilbert

8 musicians/bands I could listen to for hours and hours
Barenaked Ladies
U2
Greg Brown
John Mayer
Ladysmith Black Mambazo
Edith Piaf
Sonia Dada
Beethoven

8 things that attract me to my best friends
Sense of humor
Mindfulness
Generosity
Loyalty
Playfulness
Honesty
Kindness
Curiosity

8 people who should totally do this meme
Most I would tag have already been tagged. But if this meme strikes you as fun please do it and then let me know and I'll link to you.

What to do for the big number 2?

2008-01-14T14:25:00.000-08:00

The timing of Bean's birthday poses somewhat of a dilemma. Christmas a month before means that she has received more toys than we can fit in her closet, and she's not bored with the toys I put out for her right after the holiday, let alone the ones I have stored in the closet for later.

But nevertheless, some people have asked me what to get the Bean for her birthday. Yet when I run through the checklist of books, toys, clothes, and other ammenities I come up with nothing. She could use a few new bath toys, but lately she showers with me more often than she takes a bath. I spent days thinking about it, and after a trip downtown with my friend Tracy I hit upon inspiration.

For those of you who don't already know what you're getting her, I have a suggestion: Sponsor us for a cool class being offered through the Nevada Museum of Art.

Here's the description:

Toddler Art Adventure: Recycling Fun!
Parent and child will make art together using recycled materials and common items you can find at home. Using these materials, the class will explore painting, drawing, printmaking, collage and sculpture. Highlights include a spaghetti mobile and printmaking with vegetables and feathers. A toddler project apron is included!
Session 1: Wednesdays, March 5 to 26, 9:30 AM to 10:15 AM Ages: 2 – 5 with parent Cost: $27 non-members, ($12 for each additional child and/or parent)

This is right up our alley! Recycled materials, making a mess with art material - it doesn't get much better than this!

So there's my contribution.

Bottomless cup

2008-01-10T14:57:00.000-08:00

The other day Luci and I were watching a show I found on PBS called Mama Mirabelle's Home Movies. This is a cute show that teaches kids about animals and the natural world. For a review of the show check out this site.

In a nutshell, most of the characters are young animals of the African savannah who run into a problem they need to solve or a question that they want to answer. Mama Mirabelle the elephant illuminates the issue with home movies she has shot. While the characters are animated, the home movies are actual footage of animals shot by National Geographic or BBC (The show originally aired on the BBC, and although I hate to admit to being an anglophile, I LOVE the BBC.)

So Luci and I are sitting on the couch watching Mama Mirabelle explain to her calf, Max and his friends, Karla the zebra (who has a New Zealand accent?!?) and Bo the cheetah, why their new friend is so good at hide and go seek. Turns out their new friend is a bat. Thus Mama Mirabelle launches into an explantation of echolocation. They begin with talking about echoes and how certain sounds in certain places bounce back. At this point I look over and Luci has her head bent over her cup of "Hot-tea" (yes, my kid is already learning to enjoy a morning cup of herbal), and is talking into the mug. Apparentally she was expecting a reply because she kept saying things ("Mommydaddy, Daddymommy. Doggie?") and then putting her ear to the top of the mug to see if anyone would respond. It was all I could do to not double over laughing. I asked her if there was anyone in there. She gave me this puzzled look, looked back down into her cup and then up at the TV. We continued to watch the program without any more comic mishaps.

I love how much Bean's interested in animals and the natural world (I accept full blame with pride). She even has a book we found in Yellowstone about animal scat and tracks called Who Pooped in the Park? (an awesome series I might add). But already I want to start buying all those science activites you find at the Exploratorium in SF and other cool science museums. I'm already thinking about showing her how things grow and sprout roots (i.e. the infamous potato/toothpick thing). My mind races and I start checking out parent teachers stores and looking at teaching materials. And then I think maybe we should focus on colors and learning what blue is, and that blue and yellow make green, before we move onto photosythesis and evaporation. I think I grudgingly have to admit that my mom was right - I'm a teacher at heart, whether I want to be or not.

2008-01-06T18:07:00.000-08:00

Check it out mom! SNOW!

Hey Kathy. Whatcha doin' with that thing?

My turn! Let me help.

Wow, that was hard work. I think I'll just sit here and watch.

Am I in the way or something?

Anybody catch the license number on that snowplow?

So this is what a snowman feels like.

WHEEEE! No, don't stop. Who cares if there's a car coming?

I brake for snowmen.

Got your nose??

I'm going to miss you in the morning.

Morning snack

2007-12-09T09:45:00.001-08:00

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

2007-11-28T12:37:00.000-08:00

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!

2007-11-26T11:20:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-26T11:10:00.000-08:00

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!

2007-11-23T11:25:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-21T17:34:00.000-08:00

In Defense

2007-11-16T13:33:00.000-08:00

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. . .

2007-11-15T15:58:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-14T08:20:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-12T08:47:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-11T17:00:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-08T19:19:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-07T11:38:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-06T16:04:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-05T14:16:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-04T19:34:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-03T10:35:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-02T18:29:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-25T13:40:00.000-07:00

(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!

2007-10-21T13:49:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-19T13:53:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-18T19:57:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-17T11:56:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-10T10:27:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-10T10:00:00.001-07:00

Sensitive Spots

2007-10-07T08:46:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-04T20:21:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-04T20:16:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-28T19:22:00.000-07:00

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" . . .

2007-09-19T13:34:00.000-07:00

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!

2007-09-19T13:21:00.000-07:00

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.
part of the fidius.org network

Running to Stand Still

2007-09-17T12:59:00.000-07:00

A 5-mile hike through mountains (I'm thinking of a couple different ones I've done this summer in the Sierras and one in Yellowstone):
I can do this without a problem. OK, I'm tired the next day. But that's about it.

Today it was all I could do to run a half-mile without stopping. Allergies, asthma, something is kicking my butt.

I admit that I haven't run very regularly this summer. Periodically, but nothing consistent. Maybe that's it. Then I think, no, I've done softball. Luci, Scout and I have gone walking or hiking about every other day all summer with only a few exceptions. Maybe I just suck at running. This is incredibly likely.

In my younger days, I hated running. As hard as I tried in high school P.E. classes I could never run a mile in less than 9:30 - and even that was pushing it. I didn't start to like running until I was in college and had joined Hapkido. I would run in the evenings and let out every ounce of excess energy and stress I had built up during the day. It was wonderful. Especially during the spring and summer when the jasmine was in bloom.

I bring this up because I've decided to run a 5K (3 miles). I've been wanting to do this for awhile. I'm not sure why. Perhaps my college roomate, who's now a nationally-ranked triathlete, inspired me. I've never felt like an athlete. It wasn't until martial arts that I even considered myself an active, quasi-athletic person. And maybe it's the absence of regular martial training that's driving me. I'm not sure.

I want to do it to prove to myself that I can. That's all.

Obviously I'm starting off small, but that's OK with me. But since the one I'm looking at is in Sacramento I figure I have the advantage of training at altitude, right?

All I know is that after today I have a lot of work to do. Ouch, my lungs hurt already.

Ebbs & Flows

2007-09-16T12:29:00.000-07:00

Life gets old
Love makes it new
-Greg Brown

I had the most wonderful date Friday night. My favorite man took me out to dinner and a concert. I got clam chowder and crab legs - magnifico! (Have I mentioned my undying love of seafood? I can learn all I want about collapsing fisheries, but you offer me sushi and I can't refuse).

After which I got to see one of my favorite folk singers, Greg Brown.

But the best part was getting to sit on a chair nested into my hubbie's arm and just relax. That's not something we've had a lot lately. And, man, did it feel good.

We do this. One is stressed, the other does as many little things as they can to help make life easier. But we get so busy trying to help each other that we forget, well, each other.

It comes and goes. Cheesy, but it is like tides. We drift, we reconnect, we drift, we reconnect . . . But Greg Brown is wonderful at commenting on the complex yet mundane things like relationships, grandmas, and fishing.

And in the midst of that hour and a half of Greg Brown's blues guitar and deep bass voice I not only remembered that feeling of ebb and flow between Mike & I, I felt it.

Half-Baked: Our First Adventures in Baking

2007-09-13T17:49:00.000-07:00

Let me set the stage:

It's 5:00 p.m. Enter the Bean, BORED. Bean has been entertaining herself while The Giant, lately known as Mom-eeee, bakes desserts for a birthday party Saturday.

Mom-ee goes to the drawer to get a measuring spoon, and a moment later here comes Bean with another measuring spoon, eager to help.

So, against her better judgement, The Giant let her . . . (at this point you're probably thinking, "Oh boy, I wouldn't want to have to clean up that mess. But I would have liked to see it.")

Shockingly it was not the flour-fest you might expect. The Giant measured, the Bean poured. While Mom-ee stirred, the Bean stood on her step-stool and watched.

And when they were finished, the Bean naturally got to lick the spoon. Which she of course shared with the Dog.

Ship of Fools, or How To Be a Parent in the Age of Baby First TV

2007-09-12T15:12:00.000-07:00

Inspiration for this post: Bug walked up purposefully and turned off the TV, then began bouncing up and down in front of the stereo. When I said no and turned the TV back on she turned it off again.

My sister-in-law and I had a discussion about using the TV as a babysitter. We are both fairly liberal, intelligent women and teachers who want our kids to grow up smart, literate and able to think for themselves. But there are times, like our recent vacation, when we both set the kids firmly on the couch and turn on the Muppets hoping for 15-20 minutes of kid-grasping-the-leg-and-screaming free time to breathe and fix lunch. The rationale: anything that keeps mom sane can't be all bad.

Being a mom is not always easy and there comes a time when you realize that all the idealist daydreams you have about how you want to raise your kid TV-free, eating all organic food, and never owning a Barbie are about as realistic as them never peeing on the floor. But you try. You have to. After all, getting the carpets cleaned isn't cheap.

Awhile ago, I got a telemarketing call from an organization called Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood. They asked me about the forthcoming Shrek 3, and if I would be willing to support them in their goal to decrease the commercial attention being given the movie through McDonald's and cereal companies. But before they got to the punch line they wanted to ask certain question about whether I thought certain ads on TV were too numerous or influential.

Seriously people, I have a simple solution. Don't buy your kids sugary commercial cereal. Don't dine at McDonald's once a week. And, though it's tough (no sarcasm, I'm gulity of this one too), turn off the TV. Some people are fine with these things, and that's their choice. And maybe they need an advocacy group. But the idea of disputing what toy comes with your Happy Meal seems a little ridiculous to me. It seems to me that the best way to ensure a commercial free childhood for your kid is to avoid commercials by turning off the TV and buying the Dora and Elmo-encrusted crap in the stores as seldom as possible. But maybe it's not as easy as all that. Maybe, only having a 1 1/2 year old, I'm sheltered. I haven't yet expereinced the "I want what my friends have" stage yet.

But I have to admit that the thought of my kid owning a Bratz doll or singing a Brittney Spears song to me at the age of 5 scares the living shit out of me, so I checked it out further. The Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood describes themselves as a "national coalition of health care professionals, educators, advocacy groups and concerned parents who counter the harmful effects of marketing to children through action, advocacy, education, research, and collaboration." And it seems like a descent organization. On the website they cite news articles that discuss the effects of Baby Einstein videos, companies that want to market cell phones and computers for 3-5 year olds, slutty clothing targeted at tweens, and the adverse effects of alcoholic energy drinks.

This is, in truth, what sparked this rant. There are the two waring impulses within me as I filter through the sea of junk that is parenting. There are so many parenting methods, so much advice, and so much commercialization that come with this. Steering the ship of parenting between the sharp rocks of Elmo and Happy Meals and the sand bars of BabyFirstTV and the latest Pixar film, it's hard to decipher who's full of it and who has your best interests in mind anymore. Combine that with the winds of breast-feeding in public and moms being competative in the workplace and the fight just to steer straight is enough to make you want to jump ship. Part of me wants to shelter The Bug from fast food, Bratz dolls, and mean kids in school. Another part of me knows that you can't shelter your kids from everything. They need to know how to sift through all the crap that is pop culture without being overwhelmed by it all. But deciding who has your best interests in mind and who's just trying to sell you something is a hell of a lot harder once they start asking for "Sesa" & "Eh-nie" every morning.

OK, I'm procrastinating

2007-09-07T09:15:00.000-07:00

You Should Learn Swedish

Fantastisk! You're laid back about learning a language - and about life in general.
Peaceful, beautiful Sweden is ideal for you... And you won't even have to speak perfect Swedish to get around!

What Language Should You Learn?

Since we keep thinking about living abroad I figured this would be a good thing to find out. Sweden, who knew?
Isn't procrastination fun??

Though Tea is my favorite...

2007-09-04T22:04:00.000-07:00

You Are a Cappuccino

You're fun, outgoing, and you love to try anything new.
However, you tend to have strong opinions on what you like.
You are a total girly girly at heart - and prefer your coffee with good conversation.
You're the type that seems complex to outsiders, but in reality, you are easy to please

What Kind of Coffee Girl Are You?

I couldn't resist. The caffine delivery system of choice seems to define people. Makes me wonder about the Mountain-Dew-aholics I knew in grad school.

And, I fully admit I love my coffee with conversation, but girly-girl?! WTF? I'll admit I may have some tendencies, but seriously, have these people seen the way I dress most days?

The Trip: Part I, Bear Lake

2007-08-14T10:34:00.000-07:00

I will preface this by saying that this is going to be the first of many posts. So much happened on our trip the low down is going to have to come in several installments. I will also add that anyone who wants pictures (digital or otherwise) can either email me or leave a note in the comments section (see the link at the bottom of the post).

Alright, here it goes. As anyone who is familiar with the Atamian family knows, Bear Lake is pretty epic. We started this one with the southern Calif. contingent (G-pa, G-ma, and our niece JD, and nephew JR) driving 8 hours from Orange county to settle in with us in our little house for the better part of a week. Mike's dad exhibits many of the same manic, work-a-holic tendencies as his son (go figure!). This is a double-edged sword that I, at least, love and dread at the same time. It's exhausting, invigorating, maddening and satisfying at the same time. You often wonder if they've found some sort of naturally-occuring stimulant that gives them this inhuman-like energy to help family, complete around-the-house projects, cook, clean, and arrange social activities (our inter-family theory is that it's an OCD, ADHD, and Budweiser cocktail). And, don't misunderstand me, this is not an insult since it applies to my husband as much as my father-in-law, both of whom I love very much. But let me give you a small example.

After he'd restained our deck, taken us out to dinner, mowed the lawn, and played UNO with Mike, me, JD, and JR every night until past 10 p.m., he decided we should take the kids downtown to the Truckee river so they could play at the Whitewater park. Now, there is a theory to Dad's madness, since our trip dowtown consisted of Dad & Mom sitting in camp chairs while the rest of us repeatedly entered the rapids, floating the river or zooming Luci around in the water to her continued delight (insert mental picture of her signing "More, more").

And this is all before the 10-hour drive to Bear Lake. I smile just thinking about it. Everyone gives Mike and I a hard time about being so active, always on the go, and trying to fit so much into our schedules. . . I guess you do what makes you happy. So, as stressful as large family gatherings can be to an only-child like myself, the incessant activity at least keeps me smiling (and shaking my head at the craziness of it all). In the seven days we were at Bear Lake we rented a boat and innertube for the day, went whitewater rafting, wandered around the Raspberry Festival, played in the pool, sat around reading our books and watching the Muppets & Veggie Tales (over & over & over), and of course played the requisite game of UNO every night.

The pool was by far the funniest thing to watch Luci do. Her Aunt Pris brought foam floaties, and after watching her cousin Sarah in the spa, Luci was off. I couldn't turn my back for a second or she'd be off toward the spa saying "bat, bat" (we told her that the spa was warm like her bath). By the end of the week she would crawl out of the spa and then turn around and try to jump back in (to avert disaster I had to teach her to sit down first and then slide in). Watching her walk around on the spa's step and then step off and kick around in the deeper water without any hesitation at all I could think was "Alright, we've gotten past step 1. She's not afraid of the water. Good. But, shit I think I would do well to panic here and get this kid into swim lessons before she starts jumping into every body of water she sees, with or without her floaties on." I know I wanted a strong, independent, and confident child but aren't we pushing things a bit here?

At the end of the week we were all tired (and seriously bummed about not being able to see Little Shop of Horrors the Pickleville Playhouse), but all agreed that we'd had a lot of fun. Sarah and Luci dancing together after dinner in Jackson, playing, and hugging had to be one of the highlights (and best camera opportunities). But I think the one that topped even that was teaching my niece and nephew to whitewater raft and pointing out the bald eagle flying over us while we paddled.

Coming soon to a blog near you...

2007-08-09T14:10:00.000-07:00

* Family trip to Bear Lake, Utah
* Lots of driving
* Crystal and Mike in Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons (wolves, and bison, and bears, oh my!)
* Mike presenting at the AOU conference in Laramie, WY
* More driving
* Mr. Giant singing Sesame Street and "Handsome Moose" songs even though he's been away from the Bean for almost 2 weeks

Stay tuned!

A Sampling of Summer

2007-07-13T08:29:00.000-07:00

It seems no one blogs very much during summer. At least in our case, we're so busy enjoying the weather and getting outside, reading good books, BBQing with friends, going to weddings, and visiting family that blogging ceases to become a priority.

However, in the process I do manage to snap a couple entertaining photos. So I thought I'd share as way of an update.

In June I found the Bean (or Bug, as she's beginning to be known) a great pair of sunglasses that she fell in love with. I didn't know how much she liked them until one morning about a week later. Mike and I were sitting on the couch waking up to Luci's morning requisite, Sesame Street. We heard a noise and turned to see the Bean walking out of the kitchen toward the TV, sunglasses on, drinking away.

My grandparents, affectionately deemed Nana and Papa, have spent quite a bit of time at our house since Luci was born. In late June they came up for about 10 days and Nana introduced Luci to the world of stickers. That went over with a bang. The Bean has the motor skills of a kid twice her age (which makes life infintely harder and easier all at the same time) and after only an hour she was pulling stickers off the paper on her own and sticking them on, well, everything! Herself, the dog, Nana, me, the table, the paper.

Reno has been HOT this summer. My repeated catchphrase is that "I moved out of the Central Valley for a reason!" It has been in the 100s and smoky from all the Sierra wildfires. We're used to 90s at most, and a nice wind that comes every afternoon between 3 and 4 p.m. With this as the norm, fans pretty much do the trick so we only turn on the AC maybe half a dozen times during the summer. One day it the 100 degree weather caught up with us before we realized it. I was miserable, Luci was cranky, and even the dog looked wilted. So as I was making dinner I gave up. I put the baby gate across the kitchen entrance, brought out her tub, and we had water play in the kitchen. I highly recommend it as a way of distracting the kid when you're trying to make dinner during the summer. And in the desert heat, water is not a huge issue to clean up afterwards.

Also, I should mention that Mike and I are going to be vacationing in the Yellowstone/Grand Teton area in August so if anybody has any suggestions or recomendations be sure to toss them our way.

Danelions & berries

2007-06-26T12:00:00.000-07:00

With thanks to Tracy, who took these pictures.

Solstice thoughts

2007-06-21T18:23:00.000-07:00

Solstice is my favorite time of year. Some people think it's because it's the longest day of the year, but I approach winter solstice with the same reverence. It emphasizes the cyclical nature of the world, and what can I say, I'm all about cycles. The cycles of the sun, moon, plants, friendships, relationships, cravings, my own growth & insights. And just like Yeat's concept of the gyre, the fascination is in the complexity.

And this year, I'm totally caught up in it. I've been looking forward to it for days. I keep thinking about cycles, wondering where this particular curvature of our lives is going to take us. Jobs here, or abroad? Which of us will work and which will take care of the Bean? I wonder where my writing will take me in the next year and if I'll be able to develop the 16 ideas lurking in the forefront of my brain at the moment (now if I could just quit my compulsive cleaning and volunteer sh%$ maybe I could develop these into more than notes). And as I watch my little Bean sprout in front of me I wonder, as always what kind of person she'll become, but right now I'm mostly wondering what she'll do next.

You see, Lu has turned into a bona fide toddler. And it's a cliche in some ways. One morning Mike and I are sitting on the couch and she comes out of the kitchen to watch TV wearing her sunglasses and drinking from her bottle. She spins in circles . . . a lot. She carrys around a bucket filled with blocks, plays tug-o-war with the dog, runs outside any chance she can get, and has learned how to take her diaper off. I know I should probably be mourning her lost babyhood, but I'm eccstatic we've (mostly) moved past the playing in the toilet stage. As I've said before, for better or worse, I'm not the most sentimental mother.

I'm spending most of my day either laughing myself silly or exasperated as hell. I may shoot myself for saying this, 'cause I never thought I would, but I'm beginning to enjoy being a stay at home mom. And not for the obvious I-don't-have-to-work-or-do-anything-I-don't-want-to reasons. I'm excited about taking her to the library, starting swim lessons, going to the zoo and making animal sounds (and not having people look at me funny). Part of me misses work. I miss writing, creating, teaching, learning, and feeling like I'm contributing to the world and our bank account. But I guess I always assume I'll go back to work someday and then I can revisit that part of my identity.

I can't be all things at once. I've tried, it sucks. So for right now I get to indulge the mama/caretaker/healer/cook/gardener side of me that loves to nurture. It'll get saccarine sweet soon enough. But then I can get witty and cynical and selfish (besides, friends and collegues who read my writing tell me I'm funnier during that stage). I can feel the cycles in me best at this time of year. It tells me that even if I'm frustrated now, even if I feel stagnant, it will change. Things will balance out and right themselves again soon - it's all part of the cycle.

The green stuff

2007-06-12T11:45:00.000-07:00

I'm a gardening nut. I love plants. It's hereditary - blame all the females in my family. My Papa claims that Nana is not happy unless she can go out and work in the yard almost every day. I still remember my mom waking me up at 6 a.m. on Saturdays (with difficulty) to help her move rocks, dig up bulbs, plant strawberry starts from last year. My college roomates thought I was nuts because I liked mowing the yard of our rented house, planting geraniums in pots on the patio, and trimming the front bushes. And I still vividly remember my great-granmother's garden, and the frogs that hid in the back.

Since moving to Reno, I've wanted to learn more about the Great Basin and its natural history - the names of mountain ranges, what plants and animals live here and where to find them at various times of year. When I finished school I finally had time to put some of that knowledge to use and I began to plant native flowers and bushes (or at least similar species) in our yard. The side benefit was that this made it easier to help Mike i.d. plants out at his field site. In spite of this, at the end of the season I would inevitably hear Mike joking in the kitchen, "So where's all my vegetables? Didn't you grow me anything I can eat?" (Have I mentioned how much Mike likes to razz me?)

Mike likes my plants, or at least he likes how happy they make me. But he's a practical and efficient guy. Growing things makes me happy. Eating makes him happy. Why not combine the two? Well, now that we're not both tromping through the Nevada desert for more than half the summer and relying on our neighbors to make sure that everything in our yard isn't brown and dead when we return, I thought we'd try it.

So, I coerced Mike into helping me out and here are the results.

In addition to the tomatoes I have in pots, we also have Hungarian peppers, jalapeno peppers, golden bell peppers, red cabbage, cucumbers, and gourds.

And here are the herbs I planted earlier in the year, and a few perennial herbs that came back in force. They've taken off! Last week I trimmed them back and the harvest was so huge I had a whole armful of oregano and thyme.

I figured I would share the surplus with the softabll team since several of them had said they would like some fresh herbs. But I forgot to bring the oregano and thyme to the game, so when we got to Bully's afterward for a drink I brought the bag in with me. By this time it was almost 10 p.m., and I guess I wasn't thinking because the looks I got from the waitress as I was handing out bags of green stuff were priceless.

You want proof, eh?

2007-06-07T14:09:00.000-07:00

So, G., the consumate fisherman, wants concrete evidence of our fish. Well, here it is.

Not a record breaker but good eatin' nontheless. Hey, G - do you know if this is a brook trout? I haven't had a chance to look it up to verify yet.

Pure Bliss is . . .

2007-06-06T08:52:00.000-07:00

going backpacking for the first time in three years

catching a fish and cooking it over a campfire

waking up, and glancing over the tops of pine trees to see a waterfall, lake, and sunrise-pink mountains covered with spots of snow

eating gorp for breakfast

feeling my leg muscles burn while my eyes marvel at the Sierra landscape

In case it's not obvious by now, I've missed backpacking. This last weekend Mike and I were able to get away for the weekend (thanks again N & P). We headed south along the eastern escarpment of the Sierra and parked at the Green Creek Trailhead south of Bridgeport. From there we headed into the Hoover Wilderness, which is located at the northeast edge of Yosemite National Park. The trail is fairly moderate, nothing epic, but is it ever gorgeous this time of year.

Due to my clumsiness, I tend to look at the ground a lot - I argue it's why I'm better at flowers than birds. The wildflowers were just getting started, but to name a few: columbine, lupine, asters, buckwheat & pussypaws, snowberry, serviceberry, wild iris, phlox, mules ears, and corn lilies. Mike is the bird man, of course. And thanks to him I also got to see a red-breasted sapsucker for the first time.

Mike is apparently on his way to becoming a fish man as well. He caught a nine-inch brook trout at Green Lake, where we camped the first night at the base of Gabbro Peak (second pic). It had the most beautiful translucent red fins! So of course I insisted we take pictures . . . before we roasted it over an open flame and ate it for dinner :)

The next morning we hiked up to East Lake. This lake is clear, cold, windy, and just fantastic. The campsites aren't as good but the spectacular view of Gabbro, Page, and Epidote Peaks on the west side of the lake was well worth the hike (Epidote is the third pic above).

The best part was remembering how good it feels to sleep outside, and to be up near tree line where I breathe easier and can't stop smiling (One of these days I'll figure out how to describe that feeling in a unique way and without sounding so romantic/cheesy.) Part of me might wonder if it's just the chance to have a break from motherhood, but I've always felt like this. And I've been in love with this stretch of the Sierras since Mike and I spent the summer of 2002 in Lone Pine while he surveyed snowy plovers at Owens Lake. Even when I was pregnant I craved the smell of dry granite and pine so badly I dreamed about it.

And then we drove home and went out for sushi. I'm telling you . . . pure bliss.

P.S. This one's for you M. babe. Maybe we should start a chain? Open one in Reno and spell it the right way. R. can be the nightly entertainment and T. can bartend. Whatcha think? :)

Presidential Directive

2007-05-31T15:28:00.001-07:00

As Luci gets older I begin to think a lot about her education; what kind of values I want to teach her, how I will explain or talk to her about difficult issues like violence on TV and in life, or sex. More than anything I think about teaching her respect, toward people, toward other's possessions, toward the environment.

But I am running into a conundrum. I am not sure I know how to talk to her about politics.

Actually, I take that back. I have very strong opinions right now and I know exactly how I want to talk to her about politics. I'm just not sure I should let all those views fly at my little girl quite so early.

I am scared/curious/angry about the National Security Presidential Directive that just came out of the White House in early May, and was recently signed into law. I think more people need to know about this, since a google search revealed NOTHING except links to several blogs and the actual directive itself. NO news coverage!?! This baffles me considering that it states that in the case of "any incident, regardless of location, that results in extraordinary levels of mass casualties, damage, or disruption severely affecting the U.S. population, infrastructure, environment, economy, or government functions" the president would assume control of all three branches of government in order to coordinate relief and better respond to the incident. It also states that this incident could be the result of disrupted technology, a natural disaster, attack on the nation.

I think a lot of people rely on the news in order to educate themselves about what is going on in our country and our world. And why not? Isn't that what the news is for? But when something like this gets missed I begin to wonder if I, if anyone, is doing enough to educate themselves so that we can be responsible and active citizens who question our government and make good decisions when we go to the polls to let our voices be heard.

We can't change the world if we don't know what's going on, can we?

Attention: Women I know and love, moms especially

2007-05-22T09:31:00.000-07:00

Because I love you all
and because today a woman I admire
wrote a column that sums up exactly how I feel.
She is an intelligent and beautiful spirit
who understands the line we all must walk
between being a mom and a woman,
a poop-cleaner and a temptress;
between being what everyone needs,
and being alone sometimes.
Tatiana Von Tauber read my mind today,
and knowing someone else feels the same way
(and has the same problems with her kid and toilet paper)
somehow makes the world a little better.

Check it out:
http://www.theeroticwoman.com/members/features/columns/view.cfm?id=73

Reasons to Smile

2007-05-16T08:16:00.000-07:00

Swimming: The Giant's View

2007-05-16T07:47:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day

2007-05-14T20:10:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day 2006 -- our first

Mother's Day 2007:

No pictures, sorry. In short, it was a busy but productive day spent shopping, gardening, fixing sprinklers, and at softball practice. I sat on the couch in the evening sore, smiling, and happy to have my Mike, my bean, and my Nana and Papa comfortably nestled in the same house.

Our weekend

2007-05-08T15:12:00.000-07:00

These pics are from two weeks ago (last weekend in April). I was sick over Cinco de Mayo (damn it!) as was the Bean. Mike avoided it for the most part (damn him!). Anyway, I thought I'd share.

"Yes, mom, I am thoroughly bored with this form of digital entertainment."

"But sure, I'll pose for a couple."

"Wanna see my belly?"

Her new thing is wrapping her stuffed snake around her stomach and wandering around the house. Sometimes she grabs one of my shawls and drapes that around her shoulders too. All I can think of is Madam Sinistra at the circus.

And of course, what do we love to do best on weekends? Sleep on the dog! (mmm...fuzzy)

My Bean is a dog

2007-04-30T10:07:00.000-07:00

I have discovered something very interesting. My kid thinks she is a dog.

Some background. As most of you know Luci has been using baby signs for quite some time. And one of her first consistent words was "doddie" (i.e. dog) - no, not "mama" not "daddy," but very adamantly, pointing to the dog as she said it, "doddie."

Well, yesterday Mike and I caught her pointing to herself, doing the baby sign for dog (panting) and saying "doddie." Mike looked at me, "Our kid thinks she's a dog!? Well, we do call Scout her sister."

So my kid thinks she's a dog! I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Scout sleeps with us, sits on the couch with us, eats with us at times. We call her sister, and I often (inadvertantly) use the same disciplining commands with Luci that I do with the dog. Luci and Scout often spend the afternoon chasing each other around and under the dining room table.

I just didn't expect her to blatantly point to herself and say, "I'm a dog, hear me bark."

Things I love about this Tuesday

2007-04-24T18:26:00.000-07:00

Stuffed animals.

Giggling girls with bright eyes.

Sunny warm breezes that kiss the playground where I'm watching my kid play.

Ice cream with a good friend.

Washoe Lake

2007-04-24T17:10:00.000-07:00

So, in the spirit of keeping busy and expanding my resume in the environmental education department (which is what I want a job doing), Luci and I are volunteering with the Audubon Society's educational program. What that means right now is helping with school group tours at Washoe Lake.

Our first trip was Monday, and the wetalnds were spectacular. I'd always driven past Washoe Lake on my way to Carson City, but I'd never really thought much of it. It's flat, it's windy, and the Sierras to the west of it are so dynamic they tend to overshadow it. I couldn't believe what a treasure I'd been overlooking all this time. And I learned so much.

We arrived a little early and got to talk with several more expereinced Audubon volunteers who had a lot to share about the natural history of the birds we could see. For example, when you hear Canada geese (and who doesn't in this town!) the higher "hink" is the female and the lower "honk" is the male. And I guess they also mate for life (with a bit of infidelity at times). Throughout the morning we also got to see red-winged blackbirds, yellow-headed blackbirds, Northern Shovelers, American Coots, Cinnamon Teals, Northern Pintails, and Yellow-rumped Warblers (Audubon's variety).

The lake is split into several habitats at the south end of the state park. Upland sage on one side of the road transitions into a wetland marsh maintained by several canals, which then transitions into the lake itself. We had a group of 45 second graders, parents and teachers who came to learn about birds, wetlands, and the different habitats in Nevada. They got to use binoculars brought by the Audubon coordinator, and people like me were in charge of manning the spotting scopes (i.e. Find a bird, get it in the viewfinder of the scope, and then coordinate the line of kids that want to get a look). After our bird tour we collected some water samples from the wetalnds so the kids could look at the smaller bugs that live there. This last part was great for me as well since the last time I got to do anything like that was the Wetland Ecology class I took in 2002.

The look on the kids' faces when I get to show or teach them something new is amazing. And it's things I want to learn more about and share. Being outside and teaching: this is the stuff I live for! And the neat part was that when the kids got bored with birds they played with Luci and she delighted them by stealing their birding guides, and making her sign for bird and duck.

Easter in Mud

2007-04-13T17:33:00.000-07:00

Easter was a beautiful and fun. Like all good nature-loving people we wanted to spend the holiday outside drinking in the sun and Great Basin wind. But, like all responsible home-owning fools, what that translated into was some long-overdue yard work. Luci is the one who made it fun.

She slid down the hill and rolled in the grass.

She stomped. She smeared.

We laughed.

Easter Egg Hunting

2007-04-12T15:56:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, our playgroup had an Easter egg hunt for all the kids. Talk about an event. Imagine 13 wee ones between nine and 16 months ambling around a yard. Now envision twice that many parents and grandparents following them around with cameras trying to keep them focused on collecting plastic eggs and not eating the wood chips. It was laughable, let me tell you.
Kim, who was hosting, was sweet enough to fill the eggs with goldfish crackers for the kids to eat. The Bean loves goldfish. So as she's picking up eggs, she shakes one and decided to see what's inside. Well, that was the end of the hunt for her for awhile. She happily sat down and began munching away, only to renew the search when her supply ran out.

Other highlights:
Luci taking off her bunny-ear headband was predictable. But then she decided it was her moral obligation to take the ears off all the other kids too. She had this look of determination, "No, babies don't have big ears. Bunnies have big ears. Babies are not bunnies."

Afterward she ran off without me, crawled up in chair, grabbed a muffin off the table and began to chow down. Easter egg hunts are hard work mom!

Beans, signs, & bubbles

2007-04-04T20:10:00.000-07:00

Things I have discovered today:

1. Do not trust the Bean around beans. She lodged a kidney bean in her ear today during lunch.

2. The Bean learns fast. She has figured out via baby signs how to tell me that she wants to brush her teeth, read a book, or have her diaper changed. She did all three repeatedly today. It did not matter whether we had just done the same activity five minutes ago.

3. Like all children, when you show the Bean a bruise (or when she figured out that's what the purple spot below my eye is) she feels the need to poke it and then look at me like, "Does that hurt? Let me do it again just to make sure."

4. In spite of having the worst cold I've had in years (this is Luci's first one), snot bubbles are still funny (both hers and mine).

Pretend you're a softball

2007-03-27T15:04:00.000-07:00

You've been thrown around for hours, beaten by your close friend, Bat, and all anyone wants to do is stop you from going on your way. You are powerless to act and subject to unending abuse, except when flying through the air. Wouldn't you be frustrated, mad at the person trying to stop your one joy?

Well, apparently this one was.

This is what I get for having way too much fun at St. Patty's. I get drunk, promise to be on a softball team, and get my eye blackened by a bouncing grounder.

That's OK. It was worth it - the party and the softball practice. They've both been a hell of a lot of fun. (And, for those of you who knew me in my more youthful and uncoordinated days, I have but one comment - I don't suck!!)

For further softball updates, I'll be posting them from now on at my other blog site, Trails Recipes and Poems.

I Told You . . .

2007-03-25T10:43:00.000-07:00

her love of dirt is hereditary. Here are some pictures of me when I was younger & visiting my Nana & Papa. And yes, it is from sitting in the mud.

St. Patty's, Or The Things I get Myself Into When I Have a Night Off

2007-03-23T16:15:00.000-07:00

Mike I managed to get our wonderful friend Terre to sit with the Bean so we could go to our friend's annual St. Patty's Day Party.

Part way through the night, after several beers and lots of Bailey's, I was convinced by several of Mike's colleagues that I should join their softball team, run through the City's Parks and Rec department.

Yep, this is why I don't go out drinking much anymore. Because I wake up the next morning to Mike shaking his head at me, murmuring something like, "You have softball practice this afternoon."

Our first game is next Thursday.

Onions, paint, and Papas

2007-03-23T15:56:00.000-07:00

Lucine has discovered a new love . . . onions! During a recent visit to her great Nana's she pulled an onion out of drawer and proceeded to eat it raw, just like an apple!

The irony is that Mike's grandfather, who immigrated from Armenia, used to do the exact same thing! Blonde and blue-eyed she may be, but the blood runs true (despite it's German dilutions). She may turn out to be as Armenian as her name after all.

While at great Nana and Papa's, Mike and I repainted the inside of their house. We had a little fun while we were at it though.

So did the Bean and her Papa.

Getting Dirty

2007-03-23T15:39:00.000-07:00

Now that Lucine has discovered mud and dirt, there's no stopping her. I needed to tend to the garden and compost pile the other day, so I gave her a bucket of dirt and a pan of water. After we played in the tent (the only shade available before the trees leaf out) she entertained herself for almost 20 minutes before she ever looked up to find out where I went. My inner mama was jumping for joy!

When Mike got home I told him about our afternoon. "Hmm," he said, "I wonder where she gets it?" I actually had the decency to look sheepish. OK, so I loved mud pies as a kid too. So what?

Given our combined penchant for gardening, hiking, and camping I think dirt is bound to be a constant in our lives for some time. Every time I say that it makes me grin.

And if you're wondering why the Bean is dressed in a hot pink shirt, red summer pants and a green and red floral hat (an awful combo if I do say so myself), this is why.

Kiss Me Baby!

2007-03-16T20:00:00.000-07:00

Pucker up!

Our friends Tracy & Ian's baby, Matilda, and the Bean.

Moz, Thou Art Killing Me

2007-03-14T19:01:00.000-07:00

As usual, I failed in my attempts to balance dog hydration and the Bean's urge to play in water. Only this time there were casualties. The cute little star that used to adorn her play mat has perished after being totally submersed in the toilet.

I should add that we are now on the FIFTH hour of Mozart wafting from the bathroom like a bad smell (yes, the switch is in the "off" position). I love Mozart, but please. And the electronic version leaves a bit to be desired. It is only just now dry enough that I'm going to go take the batteries out.

Saturday Walks

2007-03-14T18:52:00.000-07:00

Gardening Girl

2007-03-14T09:09:00.000-07:00

Yep, we're starting her early. She's as interested in dirt and flowers as the rest of the women in the family.

On a recent trip to Sacramento Luci's "Great Nana" (great grandma) put together some buckets, spoons, and soil for Luci to play with. Spring has definitely hit the Central Valley!

Chompers

2007-03-08T08:39:00.000-08:00

My kid is not a cranky monster! She just has two new teeth! I wasn't sure what to call them so I found this illustration.

Lucine has had 7 of her incisors since last October. They get the incisors first, so whenever she's cranky and I think she's teething I check for that last incisor. Low and behold I look yesterday and she has her upper set of bicuspids already. And I mean they are IN. You can see about 1/16 inch of white.

A friend postulated that she skipped the canines becasue she's going to be a vegetarian.

We at home know better since her new favorite is the Lil'Smokies cocktails sausages. Mike has been telling her to hurry up and get her molars so she can chew better and eat a broader variety of foods. Apparentally, she's been working on it.

I Re-sign

2007-03-08T08:17:00.000-08:00

Since my last post about Luci and her Baby Signs we've added two more. Get this. In the last 24 hours.

She now does "cow" (fist opening and closing, like you're milking a cow). This one is brand new. I showed it to her last night and she was doing it before she went to bed.

I have been doing "gentle" (two fingers stroking the back of the other hand) for months. Mostly when she hitting the dog or another baby over the head. And this morning when she grabbed Scout's ear and headed in the opposite direction, I yelled "Luci! Gentle." And she did the sign. There was a look of recognition on her face as she did the sign. Right before she slapped the dog on the top of the head. Oh well. At least she understands what I'm saying.

And she startles me with how smart she is. Just now as I was typing she showed me a book, so I read part of it. When I got to the word "hopping" she did the sign for "bunny."

Am I in trouble or what!?

Dashing through the Snow

2007-03-07T15:12:00.000-08:00

I opened the back door and she was off. . .

Sign of the Times

2007-03-05T21:36:00.001-08:00

I have to admit it. I did jump on the baby sign wagon. I bought the book. I read it. I started gesticulating early to get her used to the idea. The authors insisted that regardless of how early you start signing to them, they won't start signing back until after 12 months. And I'm thinking, yeah right, they said she wouldn't walk until then either. Four months of chasing her down later...

But sure enough, they were right. She started with "please." Nevermind that I had been signing "eat" and "drink" for months. One afternoon, taking inspiration from a friend's little one, I tried getting her to make the sign for "please" when she came to me grunting that she wanted up. One afternoon. That was all it took. Silly mommie. You're just doing the wrong signs.

In one month she now consistently does the signs for more, please, bunny, zebra, dog, and bird. This morning my Nana & Papa asked me for instructions so they can understand her when we come to visit. So here they are. With some added notations on how her versions differ from the book.

Please.
Book Version: Rub circles on tummy like you've just eaten something yummy. Say the word "please" as you do it.
Lucine's version: Wipe between one and four fingers across part of your chest as if you were trying to rid your finger of something particularly gooey. Grunt and then smile.

More.
Book Version: There are several versions for this one. The one we've chosen involves pointing your index finger into the middle of your other palm.
Luci's version: Right on target! However, she does randomly do this sign in the middle of a diaper change.

Bunny.
Book Version: First two fingers bobbing up and down. Think "Here comes Peter Cottontail."
Luci's version: This is one of her most recent and current favorite. It consists of the thumb and first finger bobbing up and down. Looks a lot like a spastic "L." How appropriate for a crazy towhead!

Dog.
Book version: Pant.
Luci's version: Gesticulate at something acroos the room, sometimes in the direction of the dog, sometimes at a picture of a wolf, and act like you're hyperventilating.

Zebra.
Book version: Run two fingers in a horizonal stripe across your chest.
Luci's version: Run one finger halfway across your chest. Often looks much like "please."

Bird.
Book version: In a simple image, do the chicken dance.
Luci's version #1: Same as above but only on one side.
Luci's version #2: Stick your fingers in your armpits and look at mom with a quizzical expression.

She walks like John Wayne

2007-02-26T09:37:00.001-08:00

I have discovered something. My kid walks like John Wayne.

This morning she looked at me from the doorway of my office. She smiled and began to come toward me. And then she started this swagger, this rolling gait that made her head move from side to side. The coy, flirtatious look on her face really was the clincher though.

"Low dat" is not quite "howdy" but I get the idea.

The part that gets me is that she's never watched a John Wayne movie in her life. What is it that creates this persona? Nana calls it her drunk walk. And though this is a possible culprit in John's case, Luci is a bit young. She can open the cabinet, she can lift the bottle, but I don't think she can unscrew the cap yet.

Is there a loaded diaper involved? A case of vertigo? Too many blows to the head? Perhaps she has decided that this is the consumate way to win me over with her charisma. Or maybe, like spinning in circles it just feels funny.

Nana and Grandpa have also given her an oversized stuffed horse and a pink straw hat. I am beginning to wonder if they don't have a secret agenda.

When the Parents are Away...

2007-02-20T10:34:00.000-08:00

Playing with the grandparents in the beautiful Central Valley spring weather. Does it get better than this?

Days Away

2007-02-19T07:33:00.000-08:00

This is the first time I've been away from her for more than 24 hours in her entire life. And let me tell you . . . it's glorious!

I suppose I should insert here that I feel a little guilty. I love my kid, and I really like her too. She's entertaining, affectionate, and besides Mike, the person I most like spending time around. But I'm not the most sentimental mom. And time to write, hike and snuggle with my sweet husband, go to aikido, and sit on the toilet without a wee one wanting to crawl into my lap is really nice.

I'm an only child. I covet my alone time. And with a kid that only naps for 45 minutes to an hour a day I've been missing me.

I keep looking around though. Something's missing, but I can only smile becasue I know my little Terminator will be back.

What's in a Name?

2007-02-12T15:58:00.000-08:00

When Mike and I first began to discuss names for Lucine it was July. We were out at his field research site in the middle of eastern Nevada. Since his study area encompasses hundreds of square miles we do a lot (A LOT) of driving. We were driving up Hwy 278 one sunny and hot afternoon when the topic of names came up. At this point we were pretty positive it was a girl.

The conversation goes something like this:

"So, what d'ya think we should name the wee one?" I ask. "Should we be cruel and name her something like Hilda? If we permanently alienate her then we might have more time to ourselves in our retirement." What can I say, too many hours in the Great Basin desert sun gives one a twisted sense of humor.

"We could name her something that relates to the project, or the place where she was made."

"Sofa?"

He laughs. "Or Centrocercus. Centrocercus europhasianus Atamian," he says with a quizzical grin. The prospect that we name our child the Latin name for sage grouse seems a bit over the top. But I like the idea of naming her after something in the natural world. We run through a series of names based on what we see around us. Aquila. Lupine. Bovine. Sage.

"We could always name her Artemesia," I add, referring to the Big Sage whizzing by on either side of the highway. "Artemesia Tridentata Atamian."

We both giggle. "There's definitely a lot of sage in our lives during her beginnings," Mike says, still smiling.

"Maybe we should save this conversation for when we're not so hungry," I add.

* * *

Nine months later, after lists and lists and lists of names that we chose and then threw out, we decided on Lucine Elizabeth. The first honors Mike's Armenian hertiage and the moon. The second honors my mother's family. What I didn't realize, or remember, until yesterday is that the genus Artemesia is named after Artemis, the Greek goddess of the moon, because of its silvery foliage. I guess in naming her we gave her both a connection to the moon and to the Great Basin desert she was born in. When I think of this bit of information it makes me incredibly happy. A sense of rightness, of confirmation comes over me. We chose her name as much on instinct as anything else. There were three finalists for names on the night of her birth. And when I first held her in my arms I looked at her, and I knew her name was Lucine. It just seemed right. But before I said anything I looked at Mike.

"What do you think?"

He looked long and hard at her and said, "Lucine."

"Glad we agree." Though we'd narrowed it down to three, our individual choice was not something we'd discussed before that moment.

Lucine, Moonbeam, Artemis, Artemesia. I have a master's in English, so natually the origins of words, and the connections made based on those, interest me. So I pulled out one of my books on Greek mythology. When I read the entry for the goddess Artemis I broke down laughing (you'll see why).

The physical description of Artemis in The Wordsworth Dictionary of Mythology is worth mentioning. "She was tall and imposing, a queen with a beautiful face and golden curls. She was proud of her shape and took great care of it, and because of this she made sure she kept her virginity."

. . . all I could think was, Isn't this every father's dream?!

Artemis is known as the goddess of the wilderness, the hunt and wild animals, fertility and childbirth. Another flattering description paints her as, "a friend to mortals, [who] dances through the countryside in her silver sandals giving her divine protection to the wild beasts, particularly the very young. She rides her silver chariot across the sky and shoots her arrows of silver Moonlight to the earth below." Although I'm not crazy about the idea of her reeking vengence on "those virgins who give into love," I think the connection is a nice one.

When I took Luci out to the field site with us at about four months of age, I crushed sage leaves near her nose so she could smell the predominant plant in the Great Basin. It's the smell I most associate with my time at Mike's study site. It's what I would smell when I took my jeans off at night. What I smelled every time I got out of the truck to open another gate in the field fencing. It's what I was wading through when I was first preganant but didn't know it yet.

I had no idea about Artemis then. But I still wonder if Luci will remember that smell when she gets older.

Dizzy Days

2007-02-09T15:40:00.000-08:00

So Lucine's new fascination is spinning in circles. (I thought this didn't come until 2 or so?!?). She turns and turns and then inevitably falls into a wall, or the dog, or onto her butt. She giggles incessantly as she does it - as we all do. If she manages to keep her balance she stomps her feet up and down and looks at me for approval, smiling ear to ear.

(Don't tell anybody but I gave in yesterday and did it with her)

More Toilet Humor

2007-02-08T16:58:00.000-08:00

Most of you know that we can't keep Lucine out of water. Whether it's tipping over the dog water (which is now out in the garage), splashing in the bathtub, or sticking her whole hand in your drinking glass we can't keep her out of it.

Unfortunately, the most available source of water in our house (and just her height!) are the toilets. (eye roll, sigh)

She has a fascination. We've tried putting the seats down, but sometimes we forget. And in those moments when an unfocused parent or guest leaves the comode without a thought . . . she knows. I watch her stiff legged jog toward the bathroom, and even though I'm positive I put it down last time I trust her intuition and follow her anyway. Like I said, she knows. Maybe she can smell it (god, I hope not!).

This afternoon, we came back from from shopping. I bought her some new mittens and Acorn fleece socks to wear snowshoeing. We were playing around and I put the mittens on her to see what she'd do. She wandered around for awhile and seemed to be having a good time so I went to put the rest of our stuff away.

Lo and behold, I hear splashing. Noooo! I rush into the bathroom and sure enough - there were the new mittens scrubbing the toilet bowl. At least I know what chores to give her when she gets older.

Some past toilet cleaning moments caught on film:

Morning Paper?

2007-02-06T15:48:00.000-08:00

I plod out with my sweet, and very awake, girl to the kitchen in search of breakfast. Bleary-eyed I reach for the bagels and begin to make my morning chai, listening to her babble and blither at the dog. Mike and I begin to discuss the plans for the day when a noise on the opposite side of the kitchen makes us both stop. It is the rustling of paper. Odd. What's she into now? We both turn and find Luci sitting in the dog dish, talking to the the dog, and looking, for all intents and purposes, like she's having her morning paper on the pot.

"Blessed are we who can laugh at ourselves (and our children), for we shall never ceased to be amused."

Crazy Towhead's List of "Do's"

2007-02-06T13:49:00.000-08:00

A friend of ours, Eryn, was used to saying, "Not for babies," whenever her daughter Hannah would get into things she wasn't supposed to. The first time Eryn tried this saying on Lucine, Luci totally ignored her. We joked that perhaps Luci didn't think of herself as a baby. After all she decided pretty early that she wanted to be upright with the rest of the grown-ups! What would she respond to if "baby" was not acceptable? We decided after much joking that "crazy towhead" might be a more apt descriptor.

Since then "not for crazy towheads" has been on repeat around the house. "No, no Luci. Not for crazy towheads." So to balance the "dont's," I thought I'd make up a list of things for Luci that she can do (and has done this first year).

Give kisses to people (and animals) you love
Camp in Eastern Nevada and along the Oregon coast
Measure vegetation plots with Dad
Eat Lamb
Track in on Sage grouse and her chicks
Watch birds all over the Oregon coast, the Truckee river, Eastern Nevada, and Lake Tahoe with Mama and Dad
Laugh and smile a lot
Sit next to campfires
Feel the rain and wind on your face (but avoid windstorms in the Roberts Mountains!)
Go swimming with family, and get dunked!
Kick your feet in cold mountain streams
Play tug o' war with Scout
Raft down small rapids in Wingfield Park
Sit on the testing board for a second degree black belt test
Go train Aikido (or at least watch and roll on the mat sometimes)
Put your feet in the Pacific Ocean
Visit Powell's and Saturday Market in Portland
Chase Dad out the door when he tries to leave for campus in the morning
Cheer when the Bears make it to the Superbowl (but not when they lose)
Hike, hike, hike (attached to Mama or Dad)
Play in the snow
and the one I've been working on for months . . . Snuggle

She's one year old!

2007-02-06T10:05:00.000-08:00

One year old . . . but I don't think she knows the difference. For Luci everyday is a fun and exciting birthday full of new places, people, things - we're exploring the world of nouns, if you will.

I did fall into the "What was I doing a year ago?" reverie, but only for about 10 minutes. It was fun to think about the reasons why I was screaming and smiling then, versus the reasons why I scream and smile now.

For the actual occasion we went snowshoeing up near Spooner Summit by Lake Tahoe. Not that we needed snowshoes in a lot of places, but we had a good time nonetheless.

We also discovered that Luci is apparentally not getting enough protien. She wasn't interested in any of the food I brought for her and instead went ravenous after Mikes' beef jerky.

After a day of uphill hiking we took our weary legs to the grocery store for some dinner fixin's, cake, and candle. The cake choice was an interesting debate. I was thinking aesthetics (I have to send everyone pics of this, right?), and Mike was thinking taste. Mike won and we settled on a small cheesecake sampler. Keeping Mike from cheesecake is often a very physical endevour that involves dragging him, moping and whining, from the bakery department - Luci and I didn't have the energy nor did we want to crush the eager grin on his face.

We all went to bed smiling and full - it was a good day!