After my 2nd child was born, I lost a lot of weight. I'm not exactly
sure why. I think partly my daughter was premature; partly I was nursing exclusively*; and
partly I had a toddler + infant and refused to accept help**, so I was always running
around and never eating... I had a 4-month-old and wore a size 0.
Anyway, that year that I was so crazy thin, women were always giving me breathtakingly rude, backhanded compliments. One woman said to me, "Your friends must hate
you." I could've slapped her. But also, I've always wondered about the subtext to that comment. Did she believe that my thinness made other
women look bad? Made them look -- what? Lazy? Did she believe that I
had an obligation to look a certain way post-childbirth?
As soon as I went back to my standard weight (when Sasha finally weaned) all the criticism stopped. It was a very weird experience.
* For the longest time she refused to drink from a bottle. Re-fu-sed. If she was hungry and her dad tried to feed her, she'd scream bloody murder. No joke. We used to call her Decibella.
** The following summer I was sick for a month -- I had a stomach virus for a month -- and that cured me forever of my independent streak!
Prompted by jo(e).
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Monday, March 04, 2013
Sled
After exiting the chairlift, snowboarders skate to an out-of-the-way space to sit in the snow and clip their back foot into its binding. Skiers have to wait for them.
Skiers whose wives find it amusing to develop a portfolio of shots of the NWX snowmobile against a gray sky – those skiers must wait a little longer.
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Skiers whose wives find it amusing to develop a portfolio of shots of the NWX snowmobile against a gray sky – those skiers must wait a little longer.
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Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Make your mark
They call it boot-packing. It means that one slings one's skis over one's shoulder – or holds a snowboard across one's back – and climbs the hill in boots, stomping firmly into the snow to create a foothold.
The first person up the hill is blazing trail. Everyone following tries to step in the tracks he's made: to use his foothold. Sometimes a follower will slip and have to stomp a new hold, and in this way (if it's not storming) a path will form, set a foot or two feet or even three feet lower than the surface of the rest of the snow, and snaking all the way up the hill.
The first person up the hill is blazing trail. Everyone following tries to step in the tracks he's made: to use his foothold. Sometimes a follower will slip and have to stomp a new hold, and in this way (if it's not storming) a path will form, set a foot or two feet or even three feet lower than the surface of the rest of the snow, and snaking all the way up the hill.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Lines
After a long dry spell we finally had several inches of new snow, so the entire town of Bend went into the mountains to play -- or near enough to the entire town as matters: at 8:15 yesterday morning, traffic was backed up to the Safeway on 14th Street. I've never seen it like that before. It took us over an hour to get to Mt. Bachelor, where the lift lines were all long, especially because one of the best chairs was not operational.
So. My husband and I joined this throng of people hiking up the cinder cone. The snow was waist-deep and light and wheee-hooo!
I'm not a powder hound (as evidenced by the fact I'm not there today, with the Summit chair newly-opened) but I really do like a good storm. It knocks the thoughts out of my head.
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So. My husband and I joined this throng of people hiking up the cinder cone. The snow was waist-deep and light and wheee-hooo!
I'm not a powder hound (as evidenced by the fact I'm not there today, with the Summit chair newly-opened) but I really do like a good storm. It knocks the thoughts out of my head.
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Monday, February 18, 2013
Déjà vu all over again
The snow on the mountain is compacted and crusty and skiing is, people quietly confess, not very much fun. We refer to it as exercise. On the chairlift locals remind each other that this happens every year; we have just such a long dry spell every year – but the March Miracle happens every year, too! The skiing is always amazing in spring! Just hold on.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
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Monday, February 11, 2013
Sparkles
After ten consecutive weekends, snowboarding was feeling more like a job than a gift. I was dead tired of the whole thing: the early, busy mornings and the recalcitrant children and the cold and the pain and the – the have to on a weekend.
So Sasha and I took a wee break this weekend. We played hooky. All day Saturday we did whatever the heck we wanted, so long as it didn't involve snow; and then on Sunday she and I snowshoed while the boys skied.
It was so cool. It was surprising. We saw critter tracks everywhere. We stood in the forest, in view of the chairlift, with the buzz of snowmobiles around us, and we saw critter tracks everywhere. We followed them all 'round – between trees and over hillocks and down – trying to find the critters themselves, but we never did. It was very mysterious. I'm not sure what they were. Pine martens, do you think?
Sparkly snow with possible pine marten tracks near the trees.
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Title borrowed from jo(e)
So Sasha and I took a wee break this weekend. We played hooky. All day Saturday we did whatever the heck we wanted, so long as it didn't involve snow; and then on Sunday she and I snowshoed while the boys skied.
It was so cool. It was surprising. We saw critter tracks everywhere. We stood in the forest, in view of the chairlift, with the buzz of snowmobiles around us, and we saw critter tracks everywhere. We followed them all 'round – between trees and over hillocks and down – trying to find the critters themselves, but we never did. It was very mysterious. I'm not sure what they were. Pine martens, do you think?
Sparkly snow with possible pine marten tracks near the trees.
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Title borrowed from jo(e)
Saturday, February 09, 2013
Once upon a time
My daughter slept on the floor of her brother's room the whole year that she was seven. She said that when she'd turned seven, she became afraid of shadows and darkness and needed her brother's presence; but when her eighth birthday arrived, she assured us, she wouldn't be afraid anymore. She could go back to her own room. And she did.
Sometimes she slept in a sleeping bag and sometimes between blankets but most often she made herself a nest: a round pile of every stray pillow, blanket and stuffed animal in the house. She liked to build two nests, actually, to entice Blake to sleep on the floor with her – and me, too.*
So: many nights during the year that Sasha was seven, she and Blake and I snuggled together in the nests Sasha had made, and I would tell them stories about their alter egos. The stories always began like this: "Once upon a time, a long time ago, there were two children named Slake and Basha. They lived in Bend, Oregon, with their mother and father and two guinea pigs.** One night the children were woken by the sound of..."
My written stories always start with place and character, and I like the places and the characters so much that I never can get them into trouble, which means it's not really a story – nothing happens; the story never goes anywhere. The tales I told my children, though, were set right here with people who are known (like a coyote story) and so they had to be all action. And improvised. And modified on-the-fly when the children lost attention – or got too involved: the stories were, after all, intended to settle them to sleep.
One night the children were woken by the sound of footsteps on the roof. They ran out the back door, into the yard, and looked up. It was a female dragon building a nest!
One night the children were woken by a terrible rushing grinding sound. They ran to the front window to see what it could be. It was a rocketship landing in the street!
It was a baby dragon and they were worried that all the grown-ups would be afraid of it so they hid it in their closet and Slake used his slingshot to kill squirrels for its dinner.
It was a pterodactyl that took them for a ride; it was a rocket full of aliens who took them to other planets; it was a baby snow leopard and they taught it to hunt and then took it up to Broken Top, where it lives even now, eating deer just like the cougars do...
Sasha's nearly nine now. She sleeps in her own bed. She can read novels herself, and more often than not she wants to read herself to sleep. She seems still to have affection for Slake and Basha, though. Maybe she'll continue their adventures in stories she tells her own children. Maybe I will!
And then the children came back home. They settled into the nest that Sasha had made. Their mother began to tell them a story, and they continued the story in their dreams.
* Once her teacher told me that she had asked the students if they liked to build forts and Sasha said oh no, I build nests; my brother would wreck a fort. Retelling this, the teacher could barely contain her laughter – but Sasha's response seemed to me perfectly reasonable. Isn't it?
** At that time we had two guinea pigs. Now we have only one. She's five. I think she must be the longest-lived guinea pig in Bend.
Sometimes she slept in a sleeping bag and sometimes between blankets but most often she made herself a nest: a round pile of every stray pillow, blanket and stuffed animal in the house. She liked to build two nests, actually, to entice Blake to sleep on the floor with her – and me, too.*
So: many nights during the year that Sasha was seven, she and Blake and I snuggled together in the nests Sasha had made, and I would tell them stories about their alter egos. The stories always began like this: "Once upon a time, a long time ago, there were two children named Slake and Basha. They lived in Bend, Oregon, with their mother and father and two guinea pigs.** One night the children were woken by the sound of..."
My written stories always start with place and character, and I like the places and the characters so much that I never can get them into trouble, which means it's not really a story – nothing happens; the story never goes anywhere. The tales I told my children, though, were set right here with people who are known (like a coyote story) and so they had to be all action. And improvised. And modified on-the-fly when the children lost attention – or got too involved: the stories were, after all, intended to settle them to sleep.
One night the children were woken by the sound of footsteps on the roof. They ran out the back door, into the yard, and looked up. It was a female dragon building a nest!
One night the children were woken by a terrible rushing grinding sound. They ran to the front window to see what it could be. It was a rocketship landing in the street!
It was a baby dragon and they were worried that all the grown-ups would be afraid of it so they hid it in their closet and Slake used his slingshot to kill squirrels for its dinner.
It was a pterodactyl that took them for a ride; it was a rocket full of aliens who took them to other planets; it was a baby snow leopard and they taught it to hunt and then took it up to Broken Top, where it lives even now, eating deer just like the cougars do...
Sasha's nearly nine now. She sleeps in her own bed. She can read novels herself, and more often than not she wants to read herself to sleep. She seems still to have affection for Slake and Basha, though. Maybe she'll continue their adventures in stories she tells her own children. Maybe I will!
And then the children came back home. They settled into the nest that Sasha had made. Their mother began to tell them a story, and they continued the story in their dreams.
* Once her teacher told me that she had asked the students if they liked to build forts and Sasha said oh no, I build nests; my brother would wreck a fort. Retelling this, the teacher could barely contain her laughter – but Sasha's response seemed to me perfectly reasonable. Isn't it?
** At that time we had two guinea pigs. Now we have only one. She's five. I think she must be the longest-lived guinea pig in Bend.
Tuesday, February 05, 2013
Red
My son read this post and declared me a great writer and authorized me to write more about him, if I liked. My daughter asked for more, too, although she requested that I write about Slake and Basha, my kids' alter-egos. (Basha has a pet dragon and Slake flies to other planets.) So I'm hoping to dredge up the time to write more often on this here blog. We shall see, eh?
Saturday, January 12, 2013
More photos from Mt. B
This is from last weekend, I think. From the top of Mt. Bachelor, clouds made an ocean and the mountains were islands.
Sunday, January 06, 2013
In a ski hut in the moonlight
The evening before Christmas Eve some friends hosted an almost-annual
party at the Swampy Lakes ski hut. The hut is a small, three-sided log
cabin with a dirt floor and, this year, four feet of snow on its roof. Snow fell so deep so early this year that our friends had to cut snow-steps down to the floor of the cabin, and people took turns standing by the entrance, chiding, "Watch your head!" as the rest of us ducked in and out -- drawn by the roaring fire in the barrel stove and three camp tables laden with food.
I first attended this party in 2005, when my son was barely four. At that time I was the connection to all those people. We women worked part-time then, and on our days off we'd haul the kids to this or that playground, or each other's houses, to drink coffee and complain of sleeplessness and laugh and worry over our sweet, silly babies. Now I work full-time. The children are tall, lean tent-poles and they're all in school -- nearly middle school, some of them. The husbands keep us connected now, ensuring that during the long, long ski season we meet on the mountain whenever we can.
Back in 2005, I was unnerved by this party. At the winter solstice the sun sets around 4:30; the party was held almost entirely in darkness, in the forest 16 miles from town, in bitter cold and deep snow. This year, however, the moon was nearly full on the solstice, and you know what? Moonlight on snow is very bright. It's so bright the trees cast shadows. In the cold, voices carry. Also the children are so much older now, I worry about them less -- even though now they're old enough to climb onto the roof of the little cabin and leap, squealing, to land poof! in that deep snow.
At one point I walked out alone, admiring that forest turned to shades of blue in the moonlight; I walked along the trail people had made, and then further, cutting my own path through waist-deep snow. I didn't go far; it was too exhausting; so I turned: looking back at the dark forms of my friends talking around the bonfire and the children romping in the snow, clearly visible in that moonlight, and loud, very loud, the way that free people will be.
Leaping from the roof of the shelter. Near sunset.
I first attended this party in 2005, when my son was barely four. At that time I was the connection to all those people. We women worked part-time then, and on our days off we'd haul the kids to this or that playground, or each other's houses, to drink coffee and complain of sleeplessness and laugh and worry over our sweet, silly babies. Now I work full-time. The children are tall, lean tent-poles and they're all in school -- nearly middle school, some of them. The husbands keep us connected now, ensuring that during the long, long ski season we meet on the mountain whenever we can.
Back in 2005, I was unnerved by this party. At the winter solstice the sun sets around 4:30; the party was held almost entirely in darkness, in the forest 16 miles from town, in bitter cold and deep snow. This year, however, the moon was nearly full on the solstice, and you know what? Moonlight on snow is very bright. It's so bright the trees cast shadows. In the cold, voices carry. Also the children are so much older now, I worry about them less -- even though now they're old enough to climb onto the roof of the little cabin and leap, squealing, to land poof! in that deep snow.
At one point I walked out alone, admiring that forest turned to shades of blue in the moonlight; I walked along the trail people had made, and then further, cutting my own path through waist-deep snow. I didn't go far; it was too exhausting; so I turned: looking back at the dark forms of my friends talking around the bonfire and the children romping in the snow, clearly visible in that moonlight, and loud, very loud, the way that free people will be.
Leaping from the roof of the shelter. Near sunset.
Wednesday, January 02, 2013
I'll shimmer and I'll shimmer and I'll blow your house up
I have to work today but because I work from home and my children are now 11 and 8 1/2, I don't have to make provisions for them. They do their own thing. Every little while I assemble a snack for them and remind them to eat, eat like a good mother -- then run back upstairs to sit at my desk and think and type like a good employee.
My son is singing. He's playing Minecraft and watching YouTube videos of other people playing Minecraft and he also must be watching the Minecraft parody for the song DJ Got Us Falling in Love Again, or else he's watched it often enough that he can belt out the song without a prompt: Baby tonight the creeper's going to steal our stuff again...
The YouTube parodies are funny. My son didn't know they were parodies until he asked me to watch the videos with him and I noticed the flag in the title and then we went around listening to the originals, both of us declaring the parodies much better. The other night he (with assistance from his little sister) invented his own parody, not of a song but of a certain well-known fairy tale, which begins, "Once upon a time there were three little Steves. The first little Steve made a house of mud. The second little Steve made a house of wood. The third little Steve made a house of bedrock. One day the creeper came along and said, 'I'll shimmer and I'll shimmer and I'll...'"
My daughter is making bracelets. She made one for her best friend and one for me and now she's down by the TV, listening to the Kratt Brothers with half an ear as she makes another. The bracelet kit was a gift from my mother, and it includes enough parts that Sasha believes she can make a bracelet for every female she knows. She's generous that way: always making things for other people. Two days after Christmas we had some friends over for dinner, and while Blake played with their three boys, Sasha -- who found the boys too rowdy for her taste, I think -- made their mother a little purse from felt and yarn.
Well, well. I am supposed to be working, not blogging. I need to validate a fix that one of the programmers made this morning. So, ok! Off I go!
Friday, December 28, 2012
On 2012
Cribbed from last year.
1. What did you do in 2012 that you’d never done before?
I worked full-time for an entire year as a parent. (I haven't worked full-time for a whole year in over a decade -- since before my children were born.) I enjoyed the work but then two weeks ago my manager, who I greatly respected and from whom I learned a lot, got laid off. That's cast a pall over the whole year.
2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I wrote last year that I'd made goals for this year, but damn if I can remember even one of them! If I make any for next year, I'll capture it here for reference.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
My cousin Kirsten had a baby last year on the day before Christmas; and this fall my cousin Frank's wife had a baby. Frank is enamoured of that baby. It's so funny and amazing.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
My cousin Corey died of colon cancer. I didn't know him well but his death hit me hard. He was only 21. He died right after Sasha's birthday. I keep thinking of his mother.
5. What countries did you visit?
Disneyland!
6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012?
I'd like more time to play with my kids. It's hard to work full-time and parent and wife (is that a verb? "to wife"?) and manage a household; it's hard to decide what to leave undone. This year I think I parented well, but I would have liked time to just play with my kids, you know?
7. What dates from 2012 remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Dates don't etch on my memory. I can't focus on details. However I won't easily forget the week I thought I was going to die of breast cancer. (See #10, below.)
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I was the business analyst on a six-month-long project to make a Drupal website multilingual and local, where local means that customers see a certain amount of content targeted to their country. The German site came online in October with no errors. That was a pretty cool project.
9. What was your biggest failure?
In the decade of my 30s, I learned to accept help; in the decade of my 40s, I need to learn to give help. I haven't learned it yet. I'm too ... how to say ... aloof.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
You bet. Two weeks ago I had a hyper-cellular fibroadenoma surgically removed. It was benign and the surgery was nothing to speak of, but recovering from the anesthesia... GAH. It was like they'd sucked a day of my life away.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
This year my husband threw everything he's got at curing the pain in his legs, which turns out to be bursitis. I personally only bought one thing to help with that, but I supported him as he went to see doctors and physical therapists and chiropractors &c. He's not better yet. But he's getting there.
If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything.
12. Where did most of your money go?
Most of it went to Bank of America, holders of our mortgage. You're welcome, Bank of America.
13. What did you get really excited about?
We had some really great days at the mountain this year; but I think I was most excited about my son's flight off Pine Mountain in a paraglider.
14. What song will always remind you of 2012?
Gangnam Minecraft Style. Ha!
15. Compared to this time last year, are you:
– happier or sadder? At work, at least, I was much happier. A good manager makes all the difference
– thinner or fatter? The same
– richer or poorer? The same
16. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Yoga. My body is old enough that yoga makes me feel better than a good night's sleep. Weird, huh?
17. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Sitting!
18. How did you spend Christmas?
At my house with my baby sister and her husband and my exuberant nephew and my own children and my husband, and my other sister and her husband and my parents, and my husband's parents, and my husband's sisters and his brother and his brothers-in-law and our more sedate older niece and nephew and our nephew's girlfriend.
And five dogs.
It was awesome.
19. What was your favorite TV program?
Wild Kratts. I don't watch it myself but Sasha does -- she records each episode and watches it over and over and over and over -- and lord almighty, that girl knows a heck of a lot about animals. The Kratt Brothers rule.
20. What were your favorite books of the year?
I won't say it's my favorite, but Far From the Tree has really stayed with me. I think about it all the time.
21. What was your favorite music from this year?
Rose's Pawn Shop. We saw them at McMenamin's with Blake's best friend and his parents, and I tell you, I will not soon forget the sight of my two children rockin' out. They are uninhibited, those children.
22. What were your favorite films of the year?
I don't watch many movies. I don't know why. I never have.
23. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned forty one and I don't remember what I did, which seems appropriate.
24. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
A week's vacation with just my husband. Sigh.
25. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2012?
I bought this dress in turquoise and wore it with these socks (in espresso) and although it was a bit Pippi Longstocking-ish, my oh-so-stylish French co-worker said I could get away with it because of my gray hair.
So you could say my personal fashion concept is youthful athleticism + gray hair.
26. What kept you sane?
My funny, smart, loving children; and my funny, smart, loving husband; and all my funny, um, extended family. (Hee!)
27. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012.
When I thought I might be dying of cancer, I only had one regret. May it continue to be so.
1. What did you do in 2012 that you’d never done before?
I worked full-time for an entire year as a parent. (I haven't worked full-time for a whole year in over a decade -- since before my children were born.) I enjoyed the work but then two weeks ago my manager, who I greatly respected and from whom I learned a lot, got laid off. That's cast a pall over the whole year.
2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I wrote last year that I'd made goals for this year, but damn if I can remember even one of them! If I make any for next year, I'll capture it here for reference.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
My cousin Kirsten had a baby last year on the day before Christmas; and this fall my cousin Frank's wife had a baby. Frank is enamoured of that baby. It's so funny and amazing.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
My cousin Corey died of colon cancer. I didn't know him well but his death hit me hard. He was only 21. He died right after Sasha's birthday. I keep thinking of his mother.
5. What countries did you visit?
Disneyland!
6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012?
I'd like more time to play with my kids. It's hard to work full-time and parent and wife (is that a verb? "to wife"?) and manage a household; it's hard to decide what to leave undone. This year I think I parented well, but I would have liked time to just play with my kids, you know?
7. What dates from 2012 remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Dates don't etch on my memory. I can't focus on details. However I won't easily forget the week I thought I was going to die of breast cancer. (See #10, below.)
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I was the business analyst on a six-month-long project to make a Drupal website multilingual and local, where local means that customers see a certain amount of content targeted to their country. The German site came online in October with no errors. That was a pretty cool project.
9. What was your biggest failure?
In the decade of my 30s, I learned to accept help; in the decade of my 40s, I need to learn to give help. I haven't learned it yet. I'm too ... how to say ... aloof.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
You bet. Two weeks ago I had a hyper-cellular fibroadenoma surgically removed. It was benign and the surgery was nothing to speak of, but recovering from the anesthesia... GAH. It was like they'd sucked a day of my life away.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
This year my husband threw everything he's got at curing the pain in his legs, which turns out to be bursitis. I personally only bought one thing to help with that, but I supported him as he went to see doctors and physical therapists and chiropractors &c. He's not better yet. But he's getting there.
If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything.
12. Where did most of your money go?
Most of it went to Bank of America, holders of our mortgage. You're welcome, Bank of America.
13. What did you get really excited about?
We had some really great days at the mountain this year; but I think I was most excited about my son's flight off Pine Mountain in a paraglider.
14. What song will always remind you of 2012?
Gangnam Minecraft Style. Ha!
15. Compared to this time last year, are you:
– happier or sadder? At work, at least, I was much happier. A good manager makes all the difference
– thinner or fatter? The same
– richer or poorer? The same
16. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Yoga. My body is old enough that yoga makes me feel better than a good night's sleep. Weird, huh?
17. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Sitting!
18. How did you spend Christmas?
At my house with my baby sister and her husband and my exuberant nephew and my own children and my husband, and my other sister and her husband and my parents, and my husband's parents, and my husband's sisters and his brother and his brothers-in-law and our more sedate older niece and nephew and our nephew's girlfriend.
And five dogs.
It was awesome.
19. What was your favorite TV program?
Wild Kratts. I don't watch it myself but Sasha does -- she records each episode and watches it over and over and over and over -- and lord almighty, that girl knows a heck of a lot about animals. The Kratt Brothers rule.
20. What were your favorite books of the year?
I won't say it's my favorite, but Far From the Tree has really stayed with me. I think about it all the time.
21. What was your favorite music from this year?
Rose's Pawn Shop. We saw them at McMenamin's with Blake's best friend and his parents, and I tell you, I will not soon forget the sight of my two children rockin' out. They are uninhibited, those children.
22. What were your favorite films of the year?
I don't watch many movies. I don't know why. I never have.
23. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned forty one and I don't remember what I did, which seems appropriate.
24. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
A week's vacation with just my husband. Sigh.
25. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2012?
I bought this dress in turquoise and wore it with these socks (in espresso) and although it was a bit Pippi Longstocking-ish, my oh-so-stylish French co-worker said I could get away with it because of my gray hair.
So you could say my personal fashion concept is youthful athleticism + gray hair.
26. What kept you sane?
My funny, smart, loving children; and my funny, smart, loving husband; and all my funny, um, extended family. (Hee!)
27. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012.
When I thought I might be dying of cancer, I only had one regret. May it continue to be so.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Tuesday, November 06, 2012
Off the off-the-beaten-path
Saturday afternoon my son and I walked from here to the top of Pilot Butte and back. It's six miles round-trip. It took us 3 1/2 hours — but that's because we stopped twice (once to buy food and once to buy books).
Blake talked the whole way. The whole way. He isn't much of a talker generally so I considered it a rare treat. He explained his theory about life, the universe and everything: a fascinating synthesis of the world views espoused in the Guardians of Ga'Hoole books, the Septimus Heap books, the TV series Through the Wormhole, the video games he plays and, of course, everyday life. His theories are not very similar to my own, which is in itself interesting and a wee bit dismaying; but I must say, after listening to his monologue I am convinced that I, too, may be reincarnated as a snow leopard. Wouldn't that be lovely?
I can't say that I'd like to walk from here to Pilot Butte on a regular basis. It's not very scenic. I do love exploring other parts of town, though; I love looking through the in-between spaces. My sister calls that walking off the off-the-beaten-path.
Next weekend maybe we'll walk three miles to the north. I'll have to look at a map; I'm not sure where that would take us!
Blake talked the whole way. The whole way. He isn't much of a talker generally so I considered it a rare treat. He explained his theory about life, the universe and everything: a fascinating synthesis of the world views espoused in the Guardians of Ga'Hoole books, the Septimus Heap books, the TV series Through the Wormhole, the video games he plays and, of course, everyday life. His theories are not very similar to my own, which is in itself interesting and a wee bit dismaying; but I must say, after listening to his monologue I am convinced that I, too, may be reincarnated as a snow leopard. Wouldn't that be lovely?
I can't say that I'd like to walk from here to Pilot Butte on a regular basis. It's not very scenic. I do love exploring other parts of town, though; I love looking through the in-between spaces. My sister calls that walking off the off-the-beaten-path.
Next weekend maybe we'll walk three miles to the north. I'll have to look at a map; I'm not sure where that would take us!
Sunday, November 04, 2012
My daughter made this for me
The book fits in the envelope, which (as you can see) is about one staple's width by two.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Sign the US government has a sense of humor
Living in rural Oregon, quite far both spatially and culturally from Washington, D.C., we tend to eye the federal government warily.
Which is why I was endlessly amused by this sign at the federally-managed Lava Lands Visitors Center.
Do you think the building is called the Animal Inn, or were they referring to that hollow log?
Which is why I was endlessly amused by this sign at the federally-managed Lava Lands Visitors Center.
Do you think the building is called the Animal Inn, or were they referring to that hollow log?
Monday, October 01, 2012
Provide supporting details
Per my son.
What did it sound like?
Whooooooooosh!
What did it feel like?
Cold. The air was cold, but I wasn't cold.
It felt like flying. I didn't feel like a bird. In a hang-glider you might feel like a bird, but not in a paraglider. In a paraglider you're sitting down.
Were you scared?
No.
Not at all?
No.
What did it sound like?
Whooooooooosh!
What did it feel like?
Cold. The air was cold, but I wasn't cold.
It felt like flying. I didn't feel like a bird. In a hang-glider you might feel like a bird, but not in a paraglider. In a paraglider you're sitting down.
Were you scared?
No.
Not at all?
No.
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