Interest

For years my job was boring, which is how I liked it. My job was just what I did for money; since it was boring, I could give my real work — managing the children and the household — all my creativity and energy and attention.

Last September, however, when my youngest started school, boringness at work stopped being a perk because last September, for the very first time, I thought: I know how to do this. I know how to be a parent and a wife and a cook and a bill-payer and I can even throw an impromptu party for eight, which is a real achievement for me, let me tell you. I know how to do this. And my job is boring.

So, I wondered, what's next?

*

Now you are expecting some grand announcement, like maybe I've gotten a book deal! A permanent writing gig! No, no book deal. No writing gig. I have, however, gotten a sort of promotion at work. My dept. got reorganized and rather than hiring new people, they increased my hours and gave me interesting work. It's something I don't really know how to do, at least not well, so I have to learn it; it's challenging and interesting. It involves systems analysis, which I totally love, as you can probably tell from the blog.

Interesting! work!

It'll leave less time for blogging, though. That's what I really wanted to tell you. If I'm posting less, don't worry. Nothing's happened. I'm just at work!

Summer at last

My son and I have a free morning today, so we looked for someone to float the river with us.* Every single person I called already had plans. My former neighbor is doing the Paulina Plunge with her 6-year-old; two friends are starting their vacations today, one to the Oregon Coast and one to Mt. Rainier; one woman is heading up to Sparks Lake early to try to get a good camp spot for the weekend; and one woman has to work.

Summer in Bend is spectacularly glorious – and barely eight weeks long. We are frantically enjoying every second of it.




Red boy at Sparks Lake. Last weekend.



*People float down the river as it runs through the heart of Bend. You see canoes, kayaks, paddle boards, rafts, inner tubes or just life jackets. The 2 1/2 hr route requires a portage around the spillway, but if you start at McKay Park, it's smooth sailing.

It was one of those clear, sharp mustless days

who are you,little i

(thirty-nine years old)

biking up some high

hill;on a warm

& cloudless August day

(and feeling:that if one

has to exercise

this is a beautiful way)

With apologies to ee cummings. (The title is his, too. I wasn't actually biking on a mustless day, but it felt mustless while I was riding.)

No creatures die in this post

Just to reassure you in advance: No creatures die or get eaten in this blog post.

*

Alternate post title: The Camelback of Smugness

Yesterday while out on an itty bitty bike ride I thought about how, if all you knew about Bend, Oregon, came from reading my blog, you'd have a mistaken idea about this town. I'm not particularly representative of Bendites – too self-denying and quiet – and my blog observes too much and acts too little for a Bendite.

So whilst riding I devised a kind of One Word Meme like Alejna's, but Bend-style. It's probably not funny to anyone else, but I just cracked myself up.

Mountain, road or cruiser bike? Mountain.

Are you a two-hour rider or an all-day rider? Two-hour.

Favorite trail? Ben's.

Favorite month for biking? September.

Favorite race? None.

Favorite winter sport? Snowboarding.

Backcountry or Mt. Bachelor? Mt. Bachelor.

Type of pass? Season.

Are you a 20-day-a year rider or a 40+ day-a-year rider? 25.

After the mountain closes, you... BBQ in the parking lot.

And your children – ? Ski.

Lessons or self-taught? Yes.

Mt. Bachelor classes or MBSEF? Mt. Bachelor.

Favorite water sport? Floating the Deschutes!

Ha ha! Seriously. I want to canoe more this year, but I don't own a canoe.

[Questions temporarily derailed as questioner offers list of acquaintances who might sell theirs.]

5K, 10K or 100-miler? I don't run.

[Audible gasp.]

Pilates or Barré? Neither.

Favorite yoga instructor? No yoga.

Gym membership? None.

Well, how do you cross-train? I walk to the library with my kids?

[Exasperation. End of questions.]

One mouse, many mice. One house, many hice

A mouse got into our house. I'm not sure when. Earlier this week my husband found scat among the pots and pans, and then a day later Sasha and I spotted the mouse downstairs. It's really cute. It's little and gray. When I found scat on my kitchen counter, however, I bought a mouse trap.

We had a mouse in the house last year and found one particular kind of trap to be quite efficient. It's shaped like a large, plastic clothespin; you bait it with peanut butter, and when the mouse crouches to lick it, the clothespin snaps shut, crushing the mouse's skull. It sounds gruesome but if you must kill a mouse, this is a good way. The mouse dies instantly.

My soft-hearted son insisted that we buy a live trap,too, though. He thinks that if we catch the little guy, we can set him free where our street dead-ends. There are rocks to burrow beneath and grasses and bushes to eat and when people wash their cars, water flows down there. "It has everything a mouse needs," said he.

The first night we set out the traps we didn't have any peanut butter, so we used cheese instead. In the morning – as if it were Easter, or Christmas – Blake raced out of bed to see what could be seen. And? Nothing. The mouse took the cheese out of all four traps without being caught.

"Tonight," said I, "PEANUT BUTTER!"

Later I overheard my son talking to the guinea pigs. "Tell the mouse not to eat from the white traps," he said. "Tell him to eat from the live traps!"

And he told me, "Mice are smart. He'll figure out which trap to eat from." Then, after a pause: "But just in case, can we bait only the live traps?"

Edibles

The bluebelly lizard that my husband caught for Sasha is doing quite well. The lizard lives in the dining room (when it's not cupped in her hands!) in an old fish tank lined with dirt from my compost bin. Every few days Sasha refreshes the tank with another bug-filled scoop of compost. She also catches other bugs for the lizard; she wanted to give it some aphids but I nixed that, fearing for my house plants.

When I found a caterpillar in my bok choy, I gave it to Sasha to feed to the lizard. That'll feed it for a week, I thought. But: "No!" cried she, clutching the caterpillar to her chest. "It's too cute!"

So now we have a caterpillar in a jar, too.