chuchoter

First Egg Ahoy!

2009-08-19T22:32:00.005-06:00

Here it is, the culmination of 147 days of loving and laughing at the chickens. Our first little egg, presented by Quinn's chicken Fire Hydrant. It's her first try, so it's a little small. Check it out next to the normal eggs that the dairy delivers!

And since there is really no end to my nerdiness, I invite you to listen to the sounds of the sweet accidental Rooster, Eleanor. (Now that he's a boy, we try to remember to call him Rigby, but mainly we just call him Rooooooster!) Also you get to have a peek at the adorable coop that Matt built for me. Yes, it really has stained glass. Don't judge me. Unfortunately it was too dark inside to actually see in to catch him in the act. This video was shot at 6:10 am one weekend, when I was fretting that we were going to need to get rid of him soon. But it turns out, we really love the rooster. He's beautiful and silly. He's a beggar, always hoping for a little treat when you walk out to the backyard. He gets watermelon all over his neck and wattles when he is gulping it like a fiend. And he's not all that noisy. So he's staying a little longer and taking care of his girls.

observations (for Kami)

2009-04-18T23:27:00.002-06:00

Okay, Sister, you're right. The blog is stagnant. Without spending too much time downloading my embarrassing trove of chicken pictures and revamping the entire site into the urban chicken blog, this is the best I've got.

It's official. I am Too Old to sleep on the floor. I can't even count the times Kami and I slept on the family room floor, or my bedroom floor or on the pathetic hide-a-bed (as good as floor!) But in a strange inverse relationship, being older and weighing more doesn't translate into padding and therefore better sleep. The truth is Gravity now just violently presses you into the planet. And it hurts. Emery had a sleepover at Weeb's house, and so Quinn and I planned a big fort sleepover. Many blankets were used in the preparation of this fort. Several were laid down as the "mattress." Immediately after lying down I started yearning for my Aero Bed. And by my Aero Bed, I mean Weeb's 2nd Aero Bed that usually lives at my house, but she had to borrow it back from me. (Rude, yes.) But I was trying to be a good sport. I tried to keep this good attitude as I lay next to my Velcro Child, who always keeps a body part touching mine. I soothed myself, thinking "someday he'll be too cool to sleep with his mom" and just tried to be grateful. Then one cat arrived. This too I tried to absorb graciously. Then another cat arrived and decided to start a fight with cat #1. At this time both cats were evicted unceremoniously. Excellent. Now they head into laundry room. To eat. Crunch, crunch. I counted the bites until finally I fell asleep. Everytime I woke up (hourly? semi hourly?) new parts of my body were hurting. I was convinced that my rib cage had partially collapsed. My hips took the worst of it though and this was when I started to think about the disservice that my padding is doing for me. On so many levels. Toss, turn, readjust, doze and repeat until 3:30 a.m. I'm awake. The chickens are awake and cheeping happily. Someone is scratching in the cat box. Each sound in the basement is serving to magnify my rage, so finally (3:59) I head upstairs and climb into bed with Matt. He chuckles as he realizes that I jumped ship. My own bed felt so delicious! Any disparaging thoughts that I have had about the mattress or even our pathetic bedframe - I retract all of these. So there you have it. I won't sleep on your floor, or mine. I won't sleep on your hooty little Thermarest masquerading as an "air mattress." It's Vanagon, true mattress, couch- and I reserve the right to refuse the couch - or no deal from here on out.

I never thought of myself as a guerrilla either

2009-01-31T22:54:00.004-07:00

(with gratitude and apologies to Jonathan Franzen. I stole this from The Corrections. I just reread this for the 4th? 5th? time to find that he wrote this paragraph about me. Matt of course was delighted to hear himself referred to as the Governing Force at last.)

"Six days a week several pounds of mail came through the slot in the front door, and since nothing incidental was allowed to pile up downstairs- since the fiction of living in this house was that no one lived here- Enid faced a substantial tactical challenge. She didn't think of herself as a guerrilla, but a guerrilla was what she was. By day she ferried materiel from depot to depot, often just a step ahead of the governing force. By night, beneath a charming but too-dim sconce at a too-small table in the breakfast nook, she staged various actions: paid bills, balanced checkbooks, attempted to decipher Medicare co-payment records and make sense of a threatening Third Notice from a medical lab that demanded immediate payment of $0.22 while simultaneously showing an account balance of $0.00 carried forward and thus indicating that she owed nothing and in any case offering no address to which remittance might be made. It would happen that the First and Second Notices were underground somewhere, and because of the constraints under which Enid waged her campaign she had only the dimmest sense of where those other Notices might be on any given evening. She might suspect, perhaps, the family-room closet, but the governing force, in the person of Alfred, would be watching a network newsmagazine ...and there was a non-negligible possibility that if she opened the closet door a cascade of catalogues and House Beautifuls and miscellaneous Merrill Lynch statements would come toppling and sliding out, incurring Alfred's wrath. There was also the possibility that the Notices would not be there, since the governing force staged random raids on her depots, threatening to "pitch" the whole lot of it if she didn't take care of it, but she was too busy dodging these raids to ever quite take care of it, and in the succession of forced migrations and deportations any lingering semblance of order was lost, and so the random Nordstrom shopping bag that was camped behind a dustruffle with one of its plastic handles semi-detached would contain the whole shuffled pathos of a refugee existence..."

Behold "my" corner of the bedroom. Hidden from view by the bed, this is one of the last areas of wilderness in the house. I encourage Matt to just stay away from my side entirely. But occasionally he too will stage a raid, and gather up things that have lingered on my nightstand for longer than is proper. These are then placed in a bag next to my own cache. But it makes him feel better!

I love a man in a class-A uniform

2009-01-11T23:33:00.007-07:00

So this is a brag piece celebrating Matt's success as an adjunct trainer for the fire department. He spent 3 months helping to train eight new firefighter recruits. They graduated on January 9th with much pomp and circumstance (hence the class-A uniform) and the class was declared a great success. It was really amazing watching Matt be recognized as "the best of the best" from his department and seeing him actually accept some of the praise. This from a man who gets uncomfortable when you give an innocent compliment like "you look nice in those jeans."

Anyway, I've read a fancy blog or two that let their readers submit questions and then post the replies. I like this idea in theory, but I get hung up on some of the requirements:

a) readers

b) patience, follow-through, planning, etc.

As such here are a few anticipated questions...........

Q: Amanda, why haven't you called in 11 weeks?

A: Brutal schedule changes were enacted for all family members in order to make this possible. Everyone had to sacrifice, and being friendly was one of the first things to go.

Q: He was working four 12 hour days. Wasn't it nice having him sleep at home every night?

A: The short answer is YES. The long answer is that he would fall asleep before I could tuck the kids in most nights, and that he snores when he is really exhausted.

Q: Best unexpected benefit of Matt's temporary job change?

A: He hardly spent any money for three months. A milestone in our marriage.

Q: But what about gas money, driving out to the training tower?

A: Nope. He only drove FOUR times in 11 weeks. He rode his bike in the rain, the snow, and the bog to the tune of around 500 miles of exertion on top of the grueling workouts and other physical demands of this job.

Q: How awesome is it to have your husband speak just after the mayor?

A: Pretty awesome.

Q: Is he really that cute in his uniform? I mean Matt, not the mayor?

A: Fortunately, yes.

Congratulations, Friend. It was worth it.

sigh

2009-01-11T23:25:00.003-07:00

I read this, and was reminded (again) that I really have no business blogging.

fierce CONK

2008-12-09T16:44:00.003-07:00

Some of you may have doubted that Quinn actually has a forehead. Let this post remove all doubt. But thank goodness for the giant mop of hair covering this awesome goose egg.

Violet Beauregard knew what was up

2008-12-05T15:05:00.001-07:00

If you don't work with me then you might not know my fiercest addiction. Sure, I like a Coke pretty much every day, ideally with lunch but that's just once a day. Almost every day that I work, I chew 5 or 6 pieces of gum. I love it. I buy big stockpiles at Costco. If I'm out I'll beg shamelessly from anyone I work with. I spent a couple hours at the ENT this summer, trying to figure out why my ear hurt all the time. Turns out it's pain from my jaw - hello, TMJ - and he challenged me to go without gum for two weeks. I went back to work and gave away what I had in my drawers and tried to be good. For the most part I made it. Sometimes I'd just have a little quarter-piece and keep it in my mouth. I worried that I'd have to eat constantly to keep myself from chewing but that wasn't true. The real consequence: Rage. I really think that chewing gum lets me get rid of the little stresses that accumulate during my day. I found myself unaccountably upset at work without the gum. And I was really disappointed to find out that it did help with the ear. So, like a guilty smoker, I've gradually reincorporated it into my day. I do have to cut back a little - I'll notice my ear start to hurt or I'll wake up with an earache if I don't.

Anyway, lucky for me there has been a wonderful surge of gourmet gum coming into the market. It's so fantastic! You read articles on fancy small batch bourbons or olive oils, local artisanal cheeses. But after how many years on the market, gum makers are finally stepping up with some innovation. Yesterday at the store I picked up three new flavors that I've never tried! New brands are flourishing, cool packaging has been developed(yes, I'm a sucker for that). But oh the flavors!

Since I find myself in something of a position of authority (do you know anyone else who has actually destroyed their jaw joint chewing gum?) I'd like to provide a layman's guide to the chewing gum marketplace. Think of me as something like a sommelier.

Stride Gum
Highly recommended for the cuteness of the package. After you have eaten half of the pieces, you can downsize the package. Try the Nonstop Mint or the Sweet Cinnamon. I like the Sweet Peppermint too.

Orbit Gum
Probably the biggest assortment as far as flavors go. Naturally, you must have the Sweet Mint. The Mint Mojito is divine. But you might surprise yourself by really liking the Maui Melon Mint. Positively Pomegranate is hard to find, but excellent if you can get your hands on it.

5 Gum
A flat little pack, posh-looking. The old-school, normal-sized sticks. The flavors have fancy names. Try the Flare which is a pretty fierce cinnamon . There are 2 flavors I haven't tried: Lush and Elixir. Feel free to do your own research and report back to my gumchewing institute.

Extra Gum
Sorry, traditionalists. Extra is a little bit antiquated. Their flavors are basically unchanged, the old packs were always falling apart, and the new "Slim Pack" is kind of "too little, too late." Worth borrowing or begging in a pinch, but otherwise, please see the other contestants.

Trident Gum
The old standards are the best here. Original Peppermint will always hold a special place in my heart. Sweet Minty Twist is a good flavor with a lame name. The ones with the gooey stuff inside are not my style. Their website boasts a gum selector thingy you can try if you need additional information!

Well that's all for now. I'll try to keep you all abreast of major developments in this fascinating field.

frass (n)

2008-10-23T06:29:00.002-06:00

A Scrabble word you really don't want to know about.
Specifically, you don't want to learn about it in your spice rack.
Apologies to anyone I've cooked for in the last month or two. Next time you're over, we'll grab takeout!

pride before (and after) the fall

2008-09-05T21:51:00.005-06:00

So I've been spending a lot of time on my bike lately. Sometimes alone, and more deliciously, following behind Matt in his tiny little shorts. Matt is training for a 100 mile ride and since I have a weird insecurity about not being able to keep up with his adventures, I've been tagging along. Last Saturday we rode 37 miles - my longest ride ever! So I was semi-imagining a post of praise for my brave little bike "Smurfette" and the joy of covering all that terrain with my own muscles. I was starting to feel a little fabulous knowing that I was going to put 90 miles on my bike this week. But whatever bike-riding ego I was allowing to inflate during the week was thoroughly deflated on Thursday. Thursday morning I had my first crash! And it was totally stupid and my fault!

Here's how it - or how I, rather - went down: My first stop was Emery's school, a mere 5 blocks from the house. She has been riding her bike to school and I was heading that way, so I was going to come help her lock up her bike. We turned into the school grounds and pedestrians were hogging the whole sidewalk. But I couldn't drag Emery out into the parking lot in good conscience. So we went around a big group of walkers, onto the grass for a bit. Then when the coast was clear, we needed to get back up on the sidewalk.

I should mention now that Smurfette is a road bike. Her tires are skinny, and not nubby. If you're going to go over an obstacle, you should really hit it head on - perpendicularly. But I didn't. I tried to just squeak up sideways and I tipped right over. My feet were clipped in, so I really couldn't catch myself. I managed to put my hands out very late, just in time to barely kiss the sidewalk. My mouth was immediately filled with blood from my lip and it did hurt but the embarrassment was much worse. I wiped off, picked up my bike and Emery and I headed to the back of the school. I was spitting blood and knew it looked bad. Poor Emery was very scared.

But my pride wouldn't allow me to retreat back home after I dropped her off. So I started my ride to work. I deliberately did not check any car mirrors, because I didn't really want to see. When I got into the locker room at work it was very impressive. Huge bloody lip, but also dried blood all over teeth making me look like I had knocked them out. Cut on right hand, and giant goose egg and my very first road rash on my left knee. Truly I was amazed how little it hurt until I got to work, then I became very aware. So here are the gory photos. A day with an ice pack and a good rest have done wonders; today it just looks blue and slightly swollen. Sexy, I know!

renaissance!

2008-08-29T21:48:00.006-06:00

dusting off the ol' blog with some updated pictures for the side strip. Even a picture for the chicken post. I know, baby steps. The kids both had birthdays and Matt is yummier than ever; these events seemed to demand updated pictures of my little clan. Full-on, legitimate blog post for September. See you then.

even Ira Glass loves chickens

2008-08-06T22:11:00.006-06:00

Last night when there was nothing to do, I showed Matt a random YouTube video that my aunt sent me. Afterwards, he suggested searching for videos on Urban Chickens. I didn't need to be asked twice. We watched a few funny clips of people building their coops and taking care of their chickens. I ran through some key points from my chicken dissertation (repeated here for others who may need to make a similar presentation):

chickens will be pets but not freeloaders - because chickens are Givers
they are so Zen in your yard, pecking and scratching and hooting around
they are so entertaining to watch, I even called them "the new Guitar Hero"
and of course, I predicted everyone would be lining up to do chores for the chickens

After we watched this video, he said these sweet words to me: "Okay bud, I get it. You can have chickens. I will build your coop." True love sounds different to everyone, I'm sure, and this is what it sounds like to me.

So there you have it. Coming, Spring of 2009 to my backyard. In the meantime I have a lot of research and reading to do. I'll be starting with this little treasure. What says "urban hippie" more than a book on chickens by a public radio host?

blaaahhhhggg

2008-07-08T22:39:00.004-06:00

I'm concerned that there may be some sort of communicable blog virus going around. It seems to be hitting many of the admittedly lean list of blogs that I even occasionally visit. After great and energetic bursts of blogging, sometimes over spans of months or even years, suddenly people just don't have much to say, or show. (Alert: there is also a rogue form of the virus that seems to lead people to suddenly privatize their blogs, you know, because posting carefully selected inner dialogue on the web is something only the most private do.) Some are deliberately on hiatus, some are slowly regaining momentum, others just seem to wither. I think I'm in this category. I'm kind of like the cilantro seeds planted in the pot in my backyard. A good idea, and enthusiastically pursued at first. Planted, watered etc for a bit. Tiny green shoots coming up and hopeful thoughts of future flavorful garnishes and then suddenly the whole cilantro quest seems a little lame. I skip a few waterings. Then a few more. Then I throw the occasional splash of water in the once again empty pot because it seems kind of mean not to, and remember that cilantro is 79 cents per bundle. Anyway I'd like to attribute 1/3 of my withering to the following recent pursuits:

-becoming a soccer mom in earnest, as the Qdog starts his first soccer camp

-or would have started his soccer camp but he's sidelined with a fever and ear infections

-check up for the Bird (who turned 8!) reveals she's in the 95th percentile in height, completely fabulous, and has ear infection in left ear. Two weeks later it jumps to right ear.

-attending the 2008 Tour de Coops (thanks Wasatch Community Garden!) Someday, sooner than Matt thinks, I will raise the Urban Chickens. And my chickens are going to rule! Come to think of it the chickens might need their own blog!

-two quick camping trips, neither of which required any repairs to VW (v.good)

-day at Lagoon - much better than you'd expect now that both kids are well over 46"

-visit from our favorite Minnesotans and the best first-birthday gala ever

-new My Morning Jacket album to adore

I think it's safe to say that the other 2/3 of my problem comes from a general lack of commitment to the whole endeavor as I'm not naturally much of an announcer (hello, I'm a Virgo) and the people I love already hear any stories worth hearing first hand

So thank you to my throng of readers for your patience while I wither for a while. Throng being a fancy way of saying 3 to 5! Maybe some researcher will prove the existence of said summer blog virus and mail me the cure (specially formulated Toblerone bars, I'm hoping; much easier to take than a pill)

she has 4 kids

2008-06-16T22:23:00.000-06:00

- so, four kids to take care of. Four smart and fabulous kids. Also she HAD 4 kids and her body lived to tell about it. She has a hell of a lot more house to clean than I do. She runs her own business. She's a landlord, maybe even a land baroness at this point. She's the matriarch of her family. She finds time to read and play and exercise and cook good food. But now this. Prepare to be amazed.

don't tread on me

2008-06-07T11:11:00.004-06:00

Maybe it's the rats. Maybe it's the starlings. Maybe it's small aliens.
No matter. WHOEVER it is messing with Matt's tomato plants, this will serve as your final warning. We've tried the peaceful approach - the humane traps, cinnamon around the plants, shiny foil streamers hung from tomato cages - but you just won't stop! Meet the latest weaponry advance in the war against Garden Terror:

Yes, we officially have a scarecrow in our employ. We call him Mr. Workshain and he takes his job very seriously. He is built to scale as to closely resemble his creator, Matt. He wears Carhartt. He has a RIB CAGE, I tell you. With his hoe and his can of PBR he mercilessly patrols the garden. Trespassers, this is the final stage of Matt's hippie defense tactics. Surrender now, or he will bring the pain.

smalltown kids in the big city

2008-05-22T22:44:00.005-06:00

Checked off our lifetime "to do" list: trip to New York! Matt and I got to spend a fabulous few days in NYC with our multipurpose host/travel guide Alyssa. I am so pleased that I am posting pictures before she has. What a great trip! Both of us liked the city so much more than we expected to. Matt was a terrific navigator and we walked MILES every day so really felt like we got to see the sights. Some highlights:

I misinterpret the itinerary and we miss our flight out by 24 hours
scariest cab ride ever! (Everyone honks in NY, but they were all honking at us!)
tour bus hits a Suburban, wave of panic sweeps through the midwestern tourists next to us
6 mile run along the Hudson River
excellent meals with (or suggested by) Alyssa - Brazilian, Indian, Chinese and 2 amazing brunches, plus Cupcakes!
a Laker fan and a Jazz fiend watching the game in the same room
full avian ecosystem living in JFK

And a few sights:

Central Park with Alyssa

Matt actually took this shot from the bus!

Um, this is what your fridge might look like, if you were a successful attorney in New York City who worked crazy hours. (disclaimer: the Coke was mine so this not its natural state!)

me in Battery City Park. I am hoping Alyssa will post something of me where my teeth don't look totally scary.

Thank you, old friend, for the hospitality and for being our iPhone-a-friend as we wandered.

rodentia

2008-05-02T22:04:00.006-06:00

I can't help it. I have to post this email I got from Matt. I know I've already forwarded it to all 3 of my blog readers. (Thanks, guys.) But this is an improved version with actual rat footage!

"I would like to inform everyone on the status of our rodent situation. I know that this has been weighing on everyone's minds. I can feel your anxiety about whether you should broach the subject or let it lie like a sleeping elephant. Well, the wait is over folks! Quinn and I have captured our first rat! It seems that he really didn't care for dairy products at all but had a weakness for bread and organic peanut butter. His appetite got the best of him and he found himself stuck in a cage. My experience with the rat population is very limited and needless to say I was unprepared for the hissing and other other horrible noises he generated upon my approach. I deduced that he was upset with his incarceration by the noises and vicious gnawing of his cage. I estimate that said rat weighed about 18 ounces. Quinn and I loaded him up in the Van and took him to exit 132 up Parley's Canyon. He ran with glee to the nearest bush and I am sure began plotting with rat cunning how to hitch a ride back to the city. Updates will follow in the next few weeks as I transplant our rat family to their new canyon home."

Now, before I am inundated with questions let me add the following:
1. No, he wasn't in the house. Backyard - in the compost.
2. Two additional confirmed rats, but possibly more.
3. Get your own rat trap at IFA, for about $20, if you're inclined.
4. Yes, all three of my cats are worthless freeloaders.

hurricane Matt

2008-04-29T20:49:00.005-06:00

Yesterday I was swept up in a frenzy of Matt's energy. Here's how it went down:

7:45 a.m - Matt calls with "silver bullet for ALL of our problems." His proposal: sell my car (the one that works) and buy a natural gas powered vehicle. At this time, he had his eye on a 1998 Ford Contour. Various selling points were mentioned, including the fact that natural gas is 63 cents per gallon and these cars burn cleaner than any on the planet, tax incentives, etc. I shut him down, reminding him that some lessons you only need to learn twice, i.e. don't buy purebred dogs and don't "upgrade" to an older car. He hangs up, undeterred.

9:00 a.m. - Matt is home from work and continues his frantic sales pitch in person. But bud, you can fill up your car for $4.00! It will save you $40 every time you fill up! You can park for free downtown and drive in the carpool lane! My arguments suggesting that maybe the older car that gets worse gas mileage should be the sacrificial lamb are shut down, as are those reminding him that the Subaru is paid off. Flee to the safety of work.

12:15 p.m.- Matt calls with the results of his "preliminary research." There are only 10 more natural gas Honda Civics available for 2008. There is only one dealership in town selling them! Remind him repeatedly of trip to New York next week. I tell him I am not doing anything nor spending any money before my trip.

1:06 p.m.- My phone at works rings from an unknown number. Frisson of fear. It is Matt, calling from Honda dealership. He has dropped Quinn off at school and then test driven said Honda Civic. It's as cute as a bug! It's so fun to drive! It's so nice! There are only 3 left. You don't know what a big deal this is! You get a $7,000 tax credit! Oh my gosh KSL radio is here interviewing my salesguy! I have to go!

1:20 p.m. - Matt calls for "permission" to put a $500 deposit down on a car that I have never seen. Murmurs promises to stop turning down fence jobs and fire department buy-backs. And, like the enabler that I am, I consent.

1:44 -p.m. - Proud owner of 2008 Honda GX Civic, Taffeta White with an Ivory interior - to be delivered in July.

2:00 p.m. - Regular emails commence from home, with links to natural gas chat rooms and the like. Most emails have a subject line such as "power to the CNG!"

I know, I really should play harder to get. But check it out:

super coop

2008-04-23T21:38:00.005-06:00

I read Alyssa's Earth Day shout out and just had to jump on the bandwagon. Here's another way to tread a little more lightly on the planet. Matt and I feel very strongly about supporting small local businesses whenever we can - even when it means more money. (I admit: it usually means more money.) I really try to put my money where my mouth is. So this year we bought a half-share in a Community Supported Agriculture farm up in West Point. Starting in June, we get a bushel of local, organic produce every week, delivered to a local pickup spot (they have several throughout the valley). Everything is harvested the day of delivery, and your food is locally grown, so it's minimally transported. It runs June-October. I can't wait! A season's worth of fresh produce for only $195, and it goes straight to the farmer.

East Farms CSA
Local First Utah

P.S. If you sign up, and you don't want your beets, send them my way. And watch for a post later this summer (should the blog survive that long) begging for a recipe that takes Rutabaga or the like.

MMJ @ NPR

2008-04-19T00:18:00.004-06:00

Why's it so strange when they say that the world's movin upwards?
Why's it surreal when my hands feel they can't roll the dice?
Why's it so great just to wake every day, alive and by your side?
It's a mystery I guess, there's lots of things I can't find.
It's not the way that you look, but your move that catches my eye.
Why's it so soft when the cannons unload on the others?
Why're we so loud when we say it won't happen to us?
Why does my mind blow to bits every time they play that song?
It's just the way that he sings, not the words that he says, or the band.
I'm in love with this soul, it's a meaning that I understand.

.....................................

Jim James is not the kind of rock star I usually go for. (He doesn't wear eyeliner, for starters.) But his voice can be almost unworldly. It truly has its own echo. This band gives me chills. If I could only have 3 albums on my iPod, one of them would be by My Morning Jacket. (I'd choose the double disk, of course.)

an amazing show with stuff from the new album:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=88163634

small time rock legend

2008-04-09T21:58:00.003-06:00

be advised -I have played my first perfect song on Guitar Hero- medium level. I have thoroughly misspent my winter playing a fake guitar, and I am without remorse.

mini break

2008-04-01T21:25:00.004-06:00

worked like a FIEND last week in order to be able to take Friday off without remorse. We headed out for Moab Friday morning and camped near Dead Horse Point State Park. Saturday we went through the park and took the kids riding near Gemini Bridges. We camped on that road Saturday night and saw the actual bridges on Sunday. I won't bore you with the travelogue, but here are the highlights:

- only one bike crash (Quinn) and he didn't even cry

- the kids were awesome riding downhill!

- Quinn completely refused to ride back uphill.

- left the gas cap in Green River

- got it back again!

- forgot to pack spaghetti sauce

- but inexplicably traveled with a whole fresh pineapple!

It was really fun. And so cheap! We have a hippie van and a State Parks pass so all we paid for was one night camping - $12.00. Of course there was gas and a few ancillary expenses:

left head gasket for VW on Wednesday, pre-trip - $700

mountain bike for me (yay!) - $440

2 nights boarding for the hounds - $114

Yeah, totally a cheap quick get-away. But worth it!

traits I'd steal

2008-03-22T21:25:00.002-06:00

from all the people I love

-Weeb's energy
-Kim's ability to find a perfect and totally personalized gift
-Char's foresight
-Kamille's mad budgeting skills
-Matt's unconditional forgiveness
-Rachelle's decisiveness
-Alyssa's independence
-Jim's command of the English language
-Emery's natural goodness
-Quinn's abandon
-Kami's amazing legs
-Carrie's quiet strength

If somehow it were possible for me to absorb all these things from you guys, or to catch it like a cold, I just might be perfect. And probably too cool to keep a blog.

my precious

2008-03-18T21:04:00.008-06:00

this is to mark the passing of my steadfast and treasured Brown Clogs. A normal (read: fashionable) person would probably have discarded them last year, or even two years ago. But I hadn't found an adequate replacement. They were so perfect. So square and clompy. Tall enough for all the jeans I don't hem. So...brown. Matt, my mom and a friend or two were starting to make disparaging comments about the Clogs. Suggesting, perhaps, that I could polish them? Or choose something more modern? I'm a very loyal girl, and not generally prone to peer pressure. Until the last few weeks, when the rubber bottom sole was getting a little loose and would sometimes catch on the carpet. I began to worry that the Clogs might inadvertently send me hurtling down my stairs. Trips to various shoe retailers seemed to indicate that either a) brown clogs were a rare commodity, snatched up by hoarders prior to my arrival, or b) brown clogs were truly no longer stylish, not even to a fringe population. One lucky, last-ditch trip to the Rack has put all of these fears to rest. Behold the unblemished Brown-ness of the new and improved Clogs:

Matt felt particularly triumphant to see the Clogs become obsolete. He devised a small, celebratory ceremony to see them into the afterlife. First, he and the kids hacked them to pieces with an ax. I am not making this up. Then they were placed in the chiminea (hmm, I've never tried to spell that before) and burned! Don't feel bad for them though. They had a good run, and now their spirit is free. The wood and the leather have been returned to the earth, but their glory will live on forever.

Dear crazy people that bought my house,

2008-03-10T00:34:00.002-06:00

I got a letter in the mail the other day that reminded me of you and your increasingly bizarre style of home ownership. It appears that now that I've been in my new home for one year as of tomorrow, my homeowner's warranty is expiring. This is no big deal, as I've lived happily here for a year and have tested everything out and discovered or fixed any quirky little things. But what about you? You must have gotten the same letter recently as well. And despite the fact that you insisted on choosing your own home warranty (who were we to try to force one on you, anyway?) - you still don't actually live in the house. Nor does any of the significant remodeling appear to be done. I mean, honestly, the chandelier? One year and who knows how much money into this project and you can't replace or at least take down the 270-pound 1970's light fixture? Well, I know it's a big project and frankly it's one I'm glad I never started. But we hardly see you anymore, limping into the driveway in your orange-y Lincoln town car. (You've got some lights out, by the way. And that bumper is just going to start dragging behind you like a neglected shoelace soon. But I digress.) The last time we really saw you, you were indignant and unprepared on the other side of the small claims courtroom. I confess, I found it a little strange that You took Us to court and had two months to get your story straight but you STILL didn't have any photocopies made for us to look at, and none for the judge. Oh well. It was, admittedly, a stroke of genius to bring your real estate agent's boyfriend as your "sprinkler expert." Certainly 2008 should be a little bit smoother for your new home. I mean, what are the chances that you could ruin your own stop and waste valve AGAIN? And that slightly slanting floor you were so worried about? Against all odds, it seems to have stood up to the task of supporting your new tile. (Maybe the seven years of practice it had holding a 420 pound aquarium helped settle things.) Well you've got a lot of work to do so I'll let you go.

P.S. Please treat our sweet Japanese maple Yoshimi with the dignity she deserves.

Regards,
Matt and Amanda

Sushi Bash 08

2008-03-04T21:29:00.006-07:00

A belated report on the second annual Sushi Party, hosted 2/16/08 in my laughably tiny house. It was yummmmmy. I made three different rolls, all recipes ripped off from Oh Sushi, plus egg rolls. I have always imagined that egg rolls were impossibly hard to make (mainly because Kamille makes great ones, so I figured there was no way I had the skills) but lo, I made up my own recipe and they turned out! I even crafted my own secret sauce to replace the not-very-vegetarian-sounding oyster sauce. My secret ingredient: a packet of seasoning from Oriental flavor ramen noodles. Yay, MSG! Jim showed up with such impressive, professional looking rolls that mine immediately felt bashful about how shabby they were. He also made my favorite spicy mayo, which I could spread on just about anything. Chad made a huge VAT o' sushi rice and his own happy little rolls. Margaret made her famous inari sushi and brought the most amazing sweet/spicy dipping sauce. After we all gorged on food, the party moved downstairs to the Wii, with people taking turns on the Guitar Hero. No talent shone brighter than Margaret. I am not going to post the footage I took of this amazing new pseudo-musician, because I am going to sell it to VH1 when she is famous.

Anakin Toewalker

2008-02-26T22:44:00.002-07:00

People are always amazed how tall Quinn is. I have always attributed this to his superior diet and hippie parenting. Turns out he just looks extra tall, because he is a Toewalker! He has always loved to walk that way. I noticed it most when he was barefoot, so I told myself it was because the floor was cold. Now his gymnastics teacher has noticed - and when we started watching more closely we found he does it all the time! Doing this has made his tendons so tight that it's not comfortable for him to put his heels down like other bipeds. Bored at work today, I did a little Google search on the toewalkers. Gaaaah! There are lots of other little fiends out there, apparently. Treatments include: stretches obviously (but it sounded like this hardly ever works), orthotics, casting, or even surgery! A kid like Q who doesn't have any neurological problems but tiptoes anyway is called an idiopathic toewalker. Can't wait to teach Emery the word idiopathic. It's going to be awesome when she drops that on the 2nd grade.

some kids might take it for granted

2008-02-24T22:37:00.004-07:00

but mine doesn't. Emery's story about Gratitude that her teacher gave us at the first parent-teacher conference gave a shout-out to gravity. Yes, that gravity. So we laughed extra hard when we read through the stories sent home at this most recent conference.

RTG

2008-02-11T22:08:00.003-07:00

I've scoured the computer and truly can't find a single picture of Rachelle. But I know that's the way she likes it. So for this birthday tribute, you'll have to gaze at her birthday gift. I saw the pattern for this purse around Christmas (skulking around someone else's blog, I confess) and ordered it immediately for Rachelle's birthday. It's pretty gutsy, to go big and give someone a gift they can't take back - truly, not my usual style. Anyway I showed the pattern around a little, blithely telling people, yeah I'm going to start this in January...which translated to having the fabric finally delivered last Thursday. I can't believe I pulled it off. So happy birthday my friend! When I met you I believe I found my big sister - a mentor and a lifesaver and always an expert listener. My whole family thinks of you as family and blame me if you don't show up to family events. You are a true and generous friend. I am happy to tiptoe around the edge of your vast capacity for solitude. Thanks for dragging me (and your posh new purse) along for the ride, imperfections and all.

rough night?

2008-02-06T22:45:00.002-07:00

I stepped out into the hallway and Quinn's bedroom light was on, but he hadn't come out yet. He never does this. Curious, I knocked and he opened the door smiling. Behind him, his bed had been the victim of some savage attack. Three quarters of it was stripped bare to the mattress! I said, "fishy, what happened to your bed?" but he wasn't sure. Later I was thinking again how weird it was that he was in there with his light on. I asked him what he was doing in there before he came out. He said "I woke up and my pants were off, and I had to fix them." Yeah.

perspective

2008-01-26T23:19:00.001-07:00

I just read a really amazing book. Finishing it I feel truly peaceful; none of the usual doom I feel when I read about the state of this nation and the planet that I love. It's called The Open Space of Democracy, by Terry Tempest Williams. She's one of my favorites already - a Utahn, a Mormon, and the author of several other books that I reread whenever I need to heal. This book is tiny, just a few essays really. I read it in one big gulp. I won't clutter you with my interpretations. But know that it addresses the lack of true civil discourse in the media and with each other. Her politics are intimately connected to her passion for wilderness and open space. It came rushing back to me that I have an apology to make, clear from last summer. Britt, we argued in the car about being ashamed to be an American. I admit I can't fathom how any parent can more easily forgive this war than forgive a man for having an affair. But I cut you off, and neither of us explained ourselves. I really hadn't thought about how ugly that was of me, and how aggressive. Would you consider a good old-fashioned gossipy lunch with me again some day? I'll bring an open mind.

http://www.coyoteclan.com/books/osod.html

cautiously, and with great trepidation

2008-01-19T23:02:00.001-07:00

Chuchoter: to whisper. This will be a very unadvertised blog. I'm not looking for comments. I'm kind of a secretive girl. I could never have a bumper sticker, or a t-shirt with a slogan on it---this would be committing to entirely too much. So trying to come up with a gmail address, let alone a title for my blog (blog mentor Alyssa never mentioned that I couldn't sign up without a title!) has been kind of an anxious journey. I spread it out over several months and am now staring at this screen a little amazed that it happened. So, for the tiny community that might be interested, here's my little blog. Peruse it secretly at first - don't link to me just yet!