I'm Baaaack!

Wow. My last post was in August. Very shameful.

Since then, I've started a new job and feel like time is charging by at warp speed. I mean, come on, it's almost Christmas already.

Well, anyway, here I am again. Bright eyed and bushy tailed on my brand spankin new laptop with oodles to release into cyberspace. Not really, but I'm determined to get back into at least weekly blogs to let my mind free with creativity.

So, hockey has begun again. I'm on 2 teams this year and this might just be my best season ever. I haven't scored yet, but I've had several lovely assists, which I feel are almost better than scoring. That means I've worked hard to get the puck to someone near the net. I don't need the glory of all of those goals myself. That just makes me a target, right?

In addition to playing hockey, I have earned my stripes to referee. I'm a level 1 ref and so far have worked 3 squirt games and 2 adult women's. Let's just say the first game was a mess and bless Dan Lynn for dealing with me. By the start of my third game I was in the groove and it was fun. I was afraid it wouldn't be fun, but it is. Yay!

Otherwise, it's business as usual. Work, home, hockey. Work, home, hockey. Work, home, weekend. Time sure does cruise.

I'll keep it short and simple today. A big figurative hug to all you out there!

Stop Time

That's more a command than a wish.

It's mid-August and the last time I blogged was early July. Stop time.

People I didn't even know read my blog are wondering why I'm not posting. No time.

If it wasn't working overtime every week, walking the dogs, picking fruit, canning, freezing, watching the garden take over each 4 square foot box, going to weddings, cooking dinner, reading, watching the Olympics, fretting, playing soccer, going to trivia, doing laundry, cleaning the house, visiting relatives, attending parties, washing dishes, listening to music while drinking wine and dancing around the living room, wishing on falling stars, or lamenting life's decisions, I'd be blogging every day.

I feel more connected, less connected than ever before. My life has become a rhythm and I feel myself bouncing along to the beat.

Maybe I'd even write a novel.

Rattlesnake Wilderness

On Friday, J and I agreed to bike up the local Missoula Rattlesnake corridor with a group of folks from his work at Adventure Cycling. I have literally not been on my bike yet this season. The thing I claimed would not happen has, in fact, happened. I haven't ridden in 9 months. I am now saddle sore all over again. Damn!

Anyway, for just an overnight trip, we sure do have a lot of stuff. J gets 2 BOB trailers from work for us to drag behind us rather than buy panniers. I am carrying the tent, sleeping bags, and some miscellaneous items. J is carrying a backpack of clothes, stove, food, tools and utensils, and beer. We both have hydration packs filled and they carry some extra items as well (flask of whiskey).

We leave from ACA and begin a slow, steady climb through the groovy Rattlesnake neighborhoods and 6 miles later hit the trailhead. I, unfortunately, am bringing up the rear. Even Jennifer, novice biker, is smoking me on this ride. And she's carrying all her gear on her back. I'm too tired to be embarrassed, but I am a little. The corridor is a wide, gravel path utilized by the thousands of Missoulians looking for a nice stroll, people starting on a weekend camping trip, hardcore mountain bikers going to shred the hill before a cold beer and bed. We are a group of about 30. We try to spread out so as to not freak out the pedestrians and I have no problem with this, as I'm in the back again. The whole freakin way to the campsite. Let me tell you, I suck. I am no longer a rock star.

I am a little freaked out about the BOB as it bounces and jerks your bike quite a bit. I braked going downhill (what little there was). We arrive at the campsite and I focus on getting the tent up and changing into long pants and a fleece- yep, it was cold, especially since I was wet with sweat and didn't bring a full change of clothes- dumbass! I'm crabby, so I try to keep my head down and pretend to be consumed in my task. Finally, I grab my crazy creek seat and join the merry people at the fire pit. J is wandering around snapping photos, so I squeeze into the crowd and my crabbiness goes away. Everyone is laughing and sharing food, beverages and telling funny stories. J comes around with our stove and food and we cook K&J's famous mac and tuna. We drink enormous cans of beer- I think mine is bottomless and eat our dinner while the sun sets.

With nightfall comes the whiskey. We are all getting more and more boisterous. One of the guys starts singing camp songs, then the kids take over and we're singing Beatles, Queen, etc. The fire gets higher and higher and our smiles get larger and larger. The kids drop off one by one- after some of the adults. There's a lot of fun bonding going on all around the fire with mini conversations about love, life, beauty, the COSMOS, and on and on. The stars multiply, grow brighter, we become smaller and smaller. Smiles turn into deep thoughts into the fire until we finally drift off to the tent.

We sleep on soft ground listening to the babbling of the stream. My dreams drift in a swirl. We are snuggled down into our sleeping bags with just enough opening for fresh breathing air. The damp and cold seek the warmth of our cocoons.

The next morning we awake to birds of the woods with their exotic calls. I stumble from the tent- literally because I accidentally got the zipper stuck on the fly and couldn't get it open. I wander to the fire pit with my cup and instant coffee. Everyone is very subdued. I see my fire friend with arms crossed, staring at the ashes. She is not feeling well. It's supposed to be near 100 today and it's already a warm morning. I shed layers and sit sipping my coffee for courage to face the path again. Well, the path is fine, it's the seat I fear. The path is rocky and my bottom is tender. I'm in for a long ride.

We are nearly the last to leave camp in our group of 5. We stick together for moral support. I am surprised that once I lowered my seat and faced the pain that I was not the slowest rider today. The BOB is still bouncing around behind me, but I'm plowing down the path with speed today. Jennifer is not so speedy. She's suffering from a terrible headache and has the same saddle soreness I do. As she waited and rode with me on the way up, I do the same for her on the way down.

Then, Richard gets a flat. We stop to fix it and get a nice rest in the shade before tackling the rest of the ride to pavement. At the trailhead, Jennifer and I decide to ride the road the rest of the way down while J and Ted want to take the trail. Too much bouncing for me- I'll take smooth please. Richard initially takes the road, but at the last minute veers off onto the trail after the guys. Jennifer and I race down the road to our meeting spot. We get there first and sit in the shade talking while we wait. Deer walk practically around us and we enjoy the beauty of the day. J and Ted arrive, sans Richard. Turns out, he got a flat right away and didn't have tools, so started walking down the trail. Like practical people, we send J in alone with tools, to find him. The rest of us wait until Ted can't stand it anymore and races off to look for them. Yes, you are right. J and Richard somehow arrive without passing Ted, so now we are missing yet another one of our group and still can't move forward. Finally, we assemble and are off again, together, on the road.

Boy are we tired! And hungry! We throw our bikes and gear in ACA and walk over to get delicious brunch at the Old Post. Awesome. Instant sleepy. This day drags on and on, but I'll spare you. We finally arrive home at 4:00 in the evening and enjoy a wonderful hot shower and veg all night.

I will never lapse on my bike riding...I will never lapse on my bike riding...I will never lapse on my bike riding again.

Best Week Ever

My parents arrived. They haven't been here in 3 1/2 years. How can that be possible? I haven't seen them in 1 1/2. Incredible. One week together. I told them to bring some work clothes. They are professionals in the yard and I have some serious projects to take on. They come with amazing attitudes and endless enthusiasm. We all 4 work out an idea for a garden. Everyone has input. We sketch it out, to scale, and write a list of things we need from the store. My aunt gives the idea of Square Foot gardening- doesn't he make it seem like such a piece of cake? Well, it's not.

We start out on Monday utilizing perfect sized redwood from that damn playset that has been rotting in the middle of our backyard. We feel great about both taking down the playset as well as reusing it for a very practical purpose. We measure, saw, and nail each of the 3 boxes. By we, I mean Dad. I stand on the boards while he saws to keep them steady. Reminds me of standing on the ice cream maker back in 1973 while he churned the dasher. Then we go shopping for supplies- weed mat, fencing to keep out my veggie eating dog, compost and other soil materials. Monday night we start to rip up the sod. We decide to rent a sod cutter the next morning and save us a lot of time and body ache.

Sod cutters rock. Other than jiggling you to death and being deafening, they cut sod like butter- perfect strips of grass clinging to a layer of dirt, just enough to survive. We cut the sod for our space in 45 minutes.
We roll the sod up under a tree for shade and hope it lives until we can find it a new home. Next is measuring out where the boxes will live. This is so systematic I can hardly stand it. I want to just throw those boxes *about* where I think they should be, but I refrain and we measure around them for easy mobility for people as well as wheelbarrows. I know the time spent now will be worth it in the end, so I resist my sloppy urges. First real stumbling block: where do the sprinkler lines run? We need to dig holes for the posts and do not want to spend most of our time repairing leaks. This, my friends, is more difficult than it sounds. What seems like a logical place for a line is not the reality.

We figure out the sprinkler lines finally the next day. We also are fortunate to have someone come out at that time and mark all of the utility lines so we don't get executed. After yet another trip to the store, we have a brand new post hole digger so my dad can stop rubbing all of the skin off his knees trying to pull dirt and rocks out of the hole with his hand. While my dad digs, my mom and I lay weed mat, mix the soil and fill the boxes. This sounds like pleasant work, but let me tell you, it's still work. I'm starting to feel buff again.


My dad gets half of the fence done and we don't finish our tasks, but it's time for dinner, so we rush into the shower and change. And by we showering, I mean my parents. I run out of time and find myself wiping off most of the dirt with just a wet washcloth, throwing on a dress, flattening my hair and squirting on some perfume to help cover my earthy, sweaty, nasty smell. I think for the 15 minutes I had, I look damn good. We are late--J's biggest pet peeve--but it's a Wednesday, so there aren't people waiting for tables.

We eat one of the finest meals I've eaten in a long time. I think it was enhanced by the manual labor. Mom and I split the most delicious dessert. I am feeling satisfied.

The next morning we only have a couple of hours before I have to take my parents to the airport. Where did the time go? This was the shortest, most grueling week, but one of the best visits I've ever had. The one thing I learned this week: I am exactly like my parents. Strengths, weaknesses, the whole shebang. And you know what? I'm ok with that. I think they are pretty kick ass people- not just parents. Unfortunately, I have broken my dad's back. Poor guy- he's whipped. For the first time ever I hear him say that he can't keep working. He's going to have to leave the fence for J and I to finish. Wow. See, people keep growing, no matter how old they are.

I drop them off at the airport with big hugs and promises that the next time they come out I won't subject them to slave labor. We'll see...

Busy, busy bee

To all those friends who haven't talked to me much lately, I think of you in my spare time, of which is little. You are with me on this journey to a new career. I know you support me, understand my delayed response, my late gifts, my inattention.

I am struggling to complete each day: accountant? Me? What the hell was I thinking? At the same time...it's pretty interesting. Will I end up with glasses and a calculator in my purse? Maybe. But for now, I'm just trying to make it until 5:00, without screwing anything up royally.

Expect delays, unreturned calls, late gifts. I'm doing my best to focus on one thing and one thing only: growth.

So, please, hang in there. I'll be back.

You Have a Choice

A lot is changing in my world, which causes me to reflect on who I am, where I come from, and where I'm going. What is important? What are my goals? What are obstacles? What makes me happy?

I am starting a new adventure- a new career in a field about which I know nothing. The risk is great, the reward unmeasurable at this time. J had me read an article yesterday about photography that pondered the relationship of love and fear. They are both mighty motivators. This man related it to his experience watching a sunset. Once he was on a mountain, celebrating a spectacular sunset alone and felt like it was his alone to enjoy. But, then he thought, what if I wasn't here to see it? Would the sunset be less spectacular just because it wasn't seen? No. What if someone else saw what he saw and was not moved- would that take away from his enjoyment? No. So, this is the choice we face daily. If something gives us joy, should the fear of the perception of society keep us from experiencing that joy? Either we can act (like the sunset) and be noticed or not, or be engulfed by fear and not act. This is the eternal struggle most of us face each day, with each choice we make, every time we decide not to act when we really know we should. When we should let ourselves open up, let ourselves out, come what may. Because the important thing is to live each moment true to ourselves. We do not know the rewards we may receive in return.

Last night I considered this while enjoying the amazing live music of the Swell Season. Here are two people who put themselves out there. They present pieces of themselves to people every day. They put love out there every day, told fear to take a hike. They suffered, but were willing to take a risk that they considered to be big, but not enormous. Turns out the rewards were beyond their wildest dreams. As Glen Hansard said about winning an Oscar for their music, "It was like kicking a ball out of the yard, over the fence. But it went past the neighbor's yard, over the river, past the next town. 4/5 of me thinks 'Wow! Look how far I kicked that ball' 1/5 of me says 'I want my fucking ball back'."

Well, I've kicked that ball. Time will tell how far it will go, but I'll be hopeful and keep an eye on it to see where it lands. Come what may.

No Life Changes

The other day I was doing taxes using Turbo Tax online. It starts out by asking basic information such as names, social security numbers, etc. Then it asked questions about what we’ve been up to this year. Did you buy or sell a house? Did you have a child? Did you divorce or lose your spouse? Did you get a new job? Did you make any major repairs to your house? For all of these questions I answered no. “You have no life changes,” appears on my screen. I gasp. What? I have no life changes? How would they know?

According to the IRS, I am exactly the same person today that I was a year ago. I am horrified. My mind starts working. Am I the same person? Did I experience no change, no growth, nothing except more wrinkles? No, there were certainly some changes. There are still things I tried to change last year, but didn’t, however, it was a pretty big year for me.

A couple of years ago, after getting yet another glowing holiday brag letter about how this person got another promotion, had another child, saved the planet, vacationed on the moon, I started writing one for us. It had been a rough year and since my sense of humor is pretty twisted, I wrote a heavily sarcastic, but realistic account of our sucky year. For example, this was the year that our husky escaped the yard and went on a chicken/turkey killing spree 2 days before Thanksgiving. She was almost shot and we had to pay over $600 in damages, not to mention that we ruined some poor family’s Thanksgiving meal. It was pretty sad/hilarious, but J forbade me to send it out in fear that someone wouldn’t get that I was being funny and freak out- like our parents.

Anyway, this year was actually relatively positive. Sure, there have been bumps, craters, and the occasional dead end, but overall, I think of 2007 with a smile. This was the year I conquered the bike. This was the year that mind didn’t rule matter. This was the year that after 13 years of being meat free, I became a carnivore again. This was the year that J and I together faced obstacles and worked together to get over them. This was the year my bottom-of-the-ranking soccer team went undefeated through the regular season. This was the year I let go, really let go after 4 years. This was the year I danced uninhibited to the Gourds, twice! This was the year I surprised a friend on her birthday. This was the year I decided to change!

And you know what? I think that the IRS will notice my changes when I file for 2008.

all we need is love

As I watch relationships around me I see them bud. The joy is infectious. I see old lovers blossoming in the love they still feel for their mates. I feel pain for those who lose their love and are left feeling lost.

This circle of life takes us on quite a journey and I'm happy to be on it.

Here's one of those songs that can't resist making you feel that rush of warm love. It just makes me sigh.

>>This blog brought to you by hockey-induced sleep deprivation<<

Retreat

For our annual company retreat we leave civilization behind for the mountains of Idaho. Nestled in the trees is the special Lochsa Lodge. We have been coming here for the past 4 years for snow, rain, mud, and more snow. This year was touch-and-go because of avalanche activity on the highway. We got a thumbs up from the ID DOT and off we went. We typically bring a keg, booze, food, a lot of bottled water, dogs, snow apparel and a good sense of adventure. This year I thought several times about renting snowshoes, but didn’t find the time. What a shame!

J and I load up the truck with our dogs and our gear and as the snow starts to fall again, we’re off. The roads are wet, but we are unsure we’ll make it all the way. As we start to climb up the pass, the snow on the side of the road builds like walls. Our speed slows with every mile we drive. Pretty soon, the wall of snow looms over the truck and claustrophobia sets in. We’re both jittery and ready to be there. At the top of the hill, 32 miles up, we hit the Idaho border and turn off to the visitor’s center. Wow. The snow accumulated on the roof is intimidating. I enter the building, but I don’t stay long. It seems solid, but that is a lot of snow and a lot of weight on it.



After taking a few pictures, we hit the road again for the last leg of our trip. It’s only 15 miles or so, but it seems like an eternity. The roads are barely squeezed between the snow. It’s like being in a tunnel. I’m scanning, but not scanning the hillside out my window for potential avalanche. We would be so screwed. A plow comes the other way, scraping the guardrail and sending sparks flying. It seems like there’s not enough room. We squeeze over to the right as much as possible, coming to a stop, and wince as he passes us. Whew! Tight! I ponder how they can keep piling it up on the side when we come up behind a blower scraping the side barrier and throwing the snow 7 feet up and over the mound. Ah!

When we reach the entrance of the lodge, the highway is barricaded closed beyond the turn. There are numerous avalanches as well as semi-trucks stuck, waiting to be freed. We are relieved to leave the highway for the warmth of a cabin. As we pull up to the main lodge, the view is spectacular. The lodge is lit from within, massive snow covering the roof and mounded in front. It’s like a winter wonderland.

The next day we take the dogs for a hike. Tasha, our snow dog, decides to explore down under a small tree and gets stuck. We see the end of her leash pulling at the edge of the snow, but no dog. I see an occasional nose pop up and we’re both calling for her, telling her to keep at it, she can do it. Finally, when we can no longer see her, J runs over and she’s struggling, but digging herself deeper instead of getting out. He says she has a look of panic in her eyes. We keep a harness on her and it comes in handy as J grabs it and lifts her to safety. I’m not so impressed, ye arctic dog of the north. Meanwhile, oblivious to the danger of her constant companion, Jema, our shepherd mutt, is rolling and burying her head in the deep snow. She’s thrashing her body to and fro, grunting and snorting in delight. They say ignorance is bliss and I think Jema believes that.

We are unsure of our path, as it tends to unexpectedly sink beneath us, burying an entire leg up to our hip. This will be a very difficult “walk” and we stop to discuss whether to continue. Just then, a group of snowshoers appear and ask if we’re ok. As they pass, I ask them if it’s ok for us to follow their trail. Seems like they will be compressing the snow and it will make travel easier for all 4 of us. They don’t mind. We’re delighted and give them some time to get ahead, then start on our way. It’s still rather unpredictable in spots, but much easier to move. The dogs are particularly grateful. We travel along, Jema, then Tasha, then J, while I bring up the rear, stretching my steps to match strides with my long-legged man.

We’re both sweating and our boots and pants are getting very wet, but we’re exhilarated. The trail leads us down to the river where you cannot tell the land from the water. There are all sorts of animal tracks in the snow, but the dogs are just as curious as we are, so they disturb them before we can get a good look. The deer tracks are obvious, but one set is a series of leaps across the ice. My mind imagines fox, mountain lion, lynx. I guess I’ll never know for sure. We continue our loop through the woods and along the river. There’s a whole herd of deer standing in the middle of the river. We’re told they do that so they can see their predators coming.

We finally scramble up a steep embankment, both of us getting stuck along the way. We emerge on top of the mound that lines the roadway, putting our fists up in the air like Rocky and smiling triumphantly. The dogs sleep the rest of the retreat. For them, it was almost like swimming through the snow. They rest well and so do we.

Here are J's photos from the weekend

My Funk

If my funk were music, who would it be?

George Clinton, the father of funk? An original and powerful influence on others? One that branches out to form other fusions? P-Funk, of superior quality.

Sly and the Family Stone? Harmonious and shared with my peops? Wearing bell-bottoms and sporting fros?

Maceo Parker? A strong force and leader, but always behind an even bigger force of the Godfather of Soul? Nonetheless one that hits you to the core?

Rick James? Nasty one, but loveable, nonetheless. A serious darkside to that one.

Red Hot Chili Peppers? White and rappy? One that has been around forever and comes and goes like the Santa Ana winds?

Prince? Short and sensual? One that morphs constantly but still has so much soul.

Modeski, Martin, and Wood, Robert Randolph and the Family Band, Galactic, Karl Denson’s Tiny Universe?

“I want the bomb. I want the P-Funk. I want my funk uncut.”

33 and so much more.

Remember when we first met? 1998. You were so young, so fresh. No, no I said. Not for me.

Remember our first kiss? Wow! I said. So delicious, so tempting. But not for me.

Remember the first time we lay together all night? You held me so tightly. Ah, it won’t last. It’s not for me.

Remember the first time you told me you love me? I knew I loved you, but I was too scared to say it. You weren’t for me.

Remember when we decided you should move in? Well, maybe he can be mine for a little while.

Remember when we picked out a dog together? I like having him around. Maybe we can love each other for a while. Maybe I can pretend he’s mine.

Remember when you asked me to be yours forever? I am.

Happy Birthday my love.