Three Engagement Stories

So, a few weekends ago we went on a hut trip up to Francie's Cabin outside of Breckenridge. It was amazing for lots of reasons (great snow, perfect weather, sauna, good friends, etc.), but the best reason was that our friends J and L got engaged! They've been together more than six years and we all knew it was going to happen very soon, but no one on the trip (except J) knew we'd all get to be a part of it. He even hid some champagne in his bags (could be why the trip up there was arduous, and well, heavy) to celebrate afterwards. Congrats.

Our other friend D and K also got engaged last week. Again, we knew it was going to happen soon, but K was uber surprised when he finally did it. Congrats to them too. Way to go boys!

The last story came from a Nuggets game we went to the other night. It was half time, and they were doing the whole "kiss cam" thing where they focus the camera on a couple (or just two people randomly sitting together) and the crowd cheers for them to kiss. We were delighted to see two couples who had on the ugliest Christmas sweaters possible, but that was nothing compared to the last one...

When the camera focused on this last couple, the man immediately got down on one knee. His proposal flashed on the jumbotron. She stood up, covering her shocked face with her hands. A few uncomfortable moments passed, he's still kneeling, and she's just not responding. Rocky the mascot and a couple cheerleaders are standing there, waiting. The whole stadium is hushed, trying to figure out what she's thinking.

To make matters worse, this woman had on the lowest cut blouse possible, and everytime she moved it looked like her boobs were about to spill right out of her shirt. Now everyone is staring. Trainwreck! Even the players on the court had stopped what they were doing to watch. She just kept shaking her head and saying "I don't know." I'm sure the guy, and everyone else, was really hoping she would just say yes and then discuss later, because after all, he put a lot of effort and money into this.

Finally, she mumbles yes and hugs him. From what I could see she was the young fake-blondini and he was the older (probably rich) man. Match made in heaven? Possibly. I'd like to know how it all turned out.

Note to men: A basketball game is probably not on the top of your lady's list of places she'd like to be proposed to.

Everything comes with Green Chiles in Taos

We just went to Taos this weekend to commemorate eight whole months since RL's incident with the rock. The main point was for RL to talk to the ski patrol who untangled him from said rock and tell them about brain injuries and to reassure them that he was doing quite well thanks to them.

We stayed with two different sets of friends, both of whom have built amazing houses down rutted out dirt roads. These people know how to build a house...it's all about captured rain water and solar maximization and wood-burning stoves and they're just so fricking cozy that you don't care that you're in the middle of nowhere (spoken by a true city girl).

We first stayed with AO and Jenny (AO's on the ski patrol), and they made us amazing chile rellenos before we tucked into our comfy bed for the night; next up was Dan* and Liza, who made delicious fajitas (actually, both the men cooked, which I made a point of mentioning to RL). Great hospitality, these folks (AO even made us freshly baked cookies and tea for our ride home on Sunday).

Aside from the welcome, the thing about Taos is that it's enchanted. Right next to town is the oldest continually inhabited community in North America (Taos Pueblo), and I'm pretty sure there's something to be said for that. One of the weird enchanty things is the Taos Hum, which I read about last time we went down there. It's supposedly a low, vibrating noise that only like 2% of the population can hear. Liza said she hears it all the time (they call her a "hearer"); Dan said it's gotta be one of the mining operations in the valley; AO was insistent that people who hear it are just tripping. All of them got really revved up when I mentioned it, though! The speculation abounds, and still no one knows what it is.

The other enchanted story we heard was about a piece of pottery that was found in the Taos Ski Valley (actually, on Kachina Peak, where RL's rock is). It was apparently put there years ago by the Taos Puebloans as an appeasement to the gods of snow. When it was found in 1996, the owner of TSV took it and placed it into his private collection. That year was the worst snow year on record for years, and the drought continued until 2003 or so, when the owner finally decided enough was enough. The owner took the pot, along with some Puebloan elders, back to its rightful place, and voila: snow that year. I'm sure local legend goes a long way in encouraging these stories, but I really like the idea that history is present in Taos (what do we know about the people that lived in our community hundreds of years ago?)

Anyway, another important part of the weekend was a hike up to Kachina to pay our respects to the rock that took a little piece of RL's brain. We were totally unprepared for there to be snow already, so it's a good thing AO lent us some poles and pants for our trek. Our first stop was at Honey's Huck, which we've so named because it's the biggest rock I've ever skiied off of. We took lots of pictures and marveled at its grandeur (and later I casually mentioned to AO that they might want to name it after me).

After Honey's Huck, and a lot more hiking, we got to the bottom of Kachina. It's impossible to see in pictures how steep this thing is, and I was a little hesitant when RL suggested traversing across the steepness that was covered in snow. After some falling and cursing, we finally made it to the bottom of his rock. He went on by himself, chisel in hand, to give the rock the old what-for (as I said, that rock's had eight months to think about what it did). It was good closure for him, I think, and AO said the ski patrol is going to name it after him (suggestions?).

After our hike we went and checked out the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, which spans the 650-foot drop into the tiny Rio Grande below. What's shocking is how long this river has been flowing to have created such a ravine (similar to the Colorado, I guess). As a side note, the gorge bridge, which still features graffiti from the 1970s, was awarded some Best Steel Construction award in 1966. That's it's claim to fame. We're hoping that even though they haven't cleaned up graffiti in 30 years, they've done some other preventative maintenance).

Taos is cool, and it helps if you've got locals to hang out with. We went to breakfast at this amazing place called Gutiz, which had a dish called Taoseno that I could eat for the rest of my life (scrambled eggs, pinto beans, rice, green and red chile). We're excited to go back and check out the other good stuff!

______
*Interesting side note: Dan's a musician, and he often practices when he's on the road. One time he was actually pulled over for playing a harmonica and a mandolin while driving.

Dreams

I really should just start a dream journal blog because I have really complicated dreams all the time. Lately I've been dreaming a lot about babies: one time I was pregnant (scary), another time I was pleading for my life and for my niece's lives, and last night RL and I were taking care of our newly married friends' (non-existent kids). What's the deal? I also dreamt that Britney Spears and I were being kidnapped and she kept taking her shirt off to distract the kidnappers.

In last night's dream RL was deftly feeding our friends' infant, who then threw up on our bed. The parents were around somewhere and they vaguely apologized, then handed over the next kid, who was actually like 20 and a BIG kid, but for some reason he was supposed to be in preschool.

Anyway, in the midst of the weird kid madness, there was a secondary story happening in the background. Apparently I knew this guy who had just set off to track down a woman he knew (loved/was stalking, who knows?). He started sending text-message updates back to me with news and pictures of the this woman. The texts were coming rather frequently, and I remember thinking, sheesh, this guy is a little insistent on sharing his news! They're coming every two seconds!

The funny thing is that I had actually brought my cell phone into the bedroom--a friend was flying in last night and I wanted to make sure she didn't need anything. Well, the friend texted me (and my phone will continue beeping until I look at the message), and for FORTY FIVE MINUTES I incorporated the sound of the beeping into my dream.

I'm rather impressed with my creative dream-state abilities, aren't you?

Me + Bus = Abusive Relationship

For some reason this semester is the first time I've had to wrangle the 9am buses, along with a mazillion other students, to get me to school on time. I've been conning RL into dropping me off more often than not, but when I do end up taking the bus, it's frustrating.

Case in point: I leave the house at 8:45 yesterday morning, get to the bus stop five minutes later. Of course the last "Dash" bus has just passed, so I settle in to wait for another 15 minutes. When the bus comes 20 minutes later (did I mention that this bus is always late?), about 20 other people have joined me at the stop. So late busdriver lets about three people on, says "I'm full!" and drives off.

I stand in disbelief, trying to figure out what I should do. What happens if the next bus comes in 15 minutes and the same thing happens? The other bus that takes me to campus leaves from the other side of this four-lane road, and it's a dicey prospect because I don't know the schedule. Should I run home and drive to school? Finally, a bus comes that can take me as far as Broadway, so I hop on, hoping to get to another bus on Broadway. Of course, that bus passes right before I get to that stop.

At this point I really can't believe my bad luck. Now I'm totally screwed, because there's only the one bus that goes right down Broadway. Except...the Dash! Amazingly, the original bus I should have just sat at the stop and waited for shows up just a few minutes later, not full. I board the bus, passing all the people I had just left at the previous stop, the people who were patient and not freaking out. I felt a little sheepish, but I don't think they noticed.

The moral of the story is: the Dash, 75% of the time, gets me where I need to go without drama. The other 25% it pushes my buttons and makes me nervous, only to show up to save the day just in time. What kind of a weird relationship is this?

our two year anniversary

Yay! It was our two-year anniversary last week, and we celebrated by going back to the camping spot where we first fell in love.



Here are the highlights:
I am really good at setting up the tent, so I do that while RL set up the "kitchen" (which comprises a cooler, a stove, and a Horseshoes set. Don't ask me why.). Then we have a Jack and Coke and a good conversation.

RL bought a bowsaw on the way out of town so we could saw through just about anything. We go out to forage for dead wood, and start a magnificent pile which we later decide is too big to carry back to our campsite. RL goes and gets his car. When he returns, he's chatting on the phone with a friend (in the middle of nowhere, while camping). I assume he's going to get off soon, but doesn't so I am left piling wood in the car and giving him dirty looks. After that he decides to turn his phone off. Thank God.

Once we get our fire going, it starts to drizzle, so RL decides to put up one of the three tarps we brought with us (we even acquired a new one that someone left behind at the campsite, along with a heck of a lot trash and some basketball shorts). It's dark already, and RL is trying to cut the tarp rope with a Swiss Army Knife (well, a cheap SAK knockoff. I think it may be a Swedish army knife), but he gets the blade the wrong side out, and promptly gets a huge, bloody cut in his knuckle. A couple of dunks in the freezing stream (adjacent to our campsite) and a couple Bandaids later, he's ready to get back to it.

Later on we decide to go for a little walk and see if we can find a spot to look at the stars. A thunderstorm is going crazy over on the other side of the mountains, so even though our sky is clear, we can still see flashes of lightning from over the pass. Have I mentioned how amazing the stars are in the Colorado mountains? Milky Way and everything. And tonight, lightning flashes.

The next morning, RL gets it into his head that he needs to build a "toilet" with all of our leftover wood (there was a lot). See below.



In the end it's a masterpiece, except for he's built it basically in the middle of our campsite. I say that I need to pee, but don't really want to pee in the middle of everything, especially when a vanfull of older people (I think they were Polish) shows up and starts wandering around. Well, finally RL decides he's going to just do it, and afterwards begs me to use it too. He says he'll stand watch. Good thing, too, because I finish up about two seconds before the old Polish women come wandering into our campsite (apparently they were mushroom hunting). Yay for peeing in the middle of nowhere which is not actually the middle of nowhere!

All in all, it was a great camping trip. We tried to reenact our two-week-old-roommate conversations that we had the first time we came here, but it didn't work so well. Turns out you have other conversations as two-year-old-partners that are just as good.

My Visit to the Doctor

It's been awhile since I've been, so I saved up a couple issues to talk to her about (which was fairly disconcerting at the start of the appointment. Front Desk Guy: "Did you tell us you had more than one issue? Because we only have a set amount of time. You might have to come back for another appointment. She only has 15 minutes with you." Then I got to my exam room and go through it all again with the actual doctor: "Did you tell them you had more than one issue? Because we only have a set amount of time. You might have to come back for another appointment. I only have 15 minutes with you." Meanwhile, she got to the office 5 minutes early, and ultimately, we had plenty of time to talk about all of my issues.)

So, all that to say that I have some weird glob of tissue in my eye that seems to be growing scarily close to my iris. The doctor walked in, looked at me and said, "It's a pinquinilla." The doctor knew exactly what it was! She even had one of her own! And I'm not going to go blind! What a relief when a doctor can show you exactly what you're suffering from and can tell you that it's totally benign. She pulled out her book to show me "worst-case scenarios" of said eye infliction.

The weird thing was that she kept saying "pinquinilla." Then when she showed me in the medical book, it was spelled "pinguecula." Does this seem at all like the correct pronunciation for this word? There's no Q, no second N. But she was so confident in her pronunciation that I'm pretty sure she's dyslexic. Great, smartypants doctor has issues.

Well, after the whole eye globule affair, she told me I could only pick one more affliction to deal with today ("because of time constraints"). So I showed her my pinky finger that I jammed playing kickball. It hurts when I bend it certain ways, and the joints healed up funny. She looks at it and, finally, says I probably broke it!

Now, I have never broken a bone in my life. To have broken it playing kickball, of all glorious things, means that I am true hard-core kickballer. I even re-jammed it a week after I jammed it the first time....and KEPT PLAYING!!!

Obviously, I'm looking for a little credit. Since RL's x-rays at the hospital came up with an old fracture in his pelvis that he didn't even know he had, I feel like I deserve a little slap on the back for sacrificing my body. For kickball. Just don't slap too hard. I have a broken finger, you know.

Weird things people ask for at a Mexican restaurant

So I'm still waitressing at the hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant I told you about earlier. It's a funny job because you interact with so many different types of people. most of them normal, and some, well, not so normal.

The other day an older couple came in. The woman seemed to have something wrong with her face, like she couldn't stop smiling uncontrollably or crossing her eyes. It took me awhile to adjust to having a conversation with such a person. The first thing she asked me for was cottage cheese, because she wasn't that hungry and didn't want anything spicy. (Apparently she had come out just because her man friend wanted dinner). Unfortunately, most Mexican restaurants don't have cottage cheese. After a long conversation about what else we do have that might fit the bill, she settled on a cheese quesadilla.

In other quesadilla news, a woman and her two young sons were sitting in my section last week. She immediately asked for a grilled cheese sandwich for the kids. I said we didn't really have any bread, just tortillas, and maybe a quesadilla would work? Mommy said the kids don't do tortillas. So she ordered them a plate of French Fries (which we do, randomly, have). Much better option. How about getting your kids to branch out a little? Like, to other wheat flour-based cheese-holding options?

Finally, the first table of my shift on Tuesday was a pair of older men. It was happy hour, so they ended up ordering the cheap tacos, which come with meat, lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese. Pretty basic, but what more do you expect on a taco? Well, when I put the plate down in front of one them, he looked at it and said, "What am I supposed to put on this?" I looked at him, kind of confused, but said maybe he wanted to put some salsa on it?

"Isn't there like a sauce? A Spanish sauce? I mean, a Mexican sauce?" Again, I offer up the salsa (which, in fact, means sauce in Spanish) or suggest a Cholula or Tabasco. He decides the Cholula could probably do, and mows through two tacos only to order another two.

Unfortunately the credit card machine wasn't working at that moment, so Mr. Cholula got away without leaving me a tip. I love this job!

Bad insect jokes

RL and I were eating dinner outside the other day when I noticed that a spider had strung a web between the legs of our BBQ. I said, "Honey, look! There's a spider all up in your grill."

The other night I couldn't sleep and came downstairs to watch TV for awhile. It didn't help much, and I wasn't feeling any more sleepy. As I was laying on the couch, lights off, and all the sudden I see a little shape moving across the floor. I frantically turn the light on to find a millipede-type thing racing around the living room (now I'm definitely not sleeping). I get kind of freaked out because I really don't like things with lots of legs, and search for a glass and a piece of paper to trap him and take him outside (because really, something with that many legs is just not something you want to squish into the carpet). Before I can do that, though, Legsy has hidden under the couch. Trying to ignore the fact that he's still in the house, I decide to just go upstairs to my hopefully bug-free bed.

The next morning I tell RL about it, and ask him if millipedes are dangerous. "I don't think so...unless they kicked you to death with all those legs." Me, with an image of a cartoon millipede karate chopping my leg: "You mean like a kung-fu millipede?"

Okay, maybe it's not that funny, but you have to imagine it.

my family's finest moments

The other morning RL and I were sitting on the couch (watching CBS Sunday Morning, no doubt), and Little the cat got the fire in her blood. Below is a picture of the darling girl, just so you have a good visual.

Anyway, she was running around the house like a crazy cat--from the patio through the living room and on her laps in the upstairs bedrooms. At one point while she was running around upstairs, I got up to close the screen door to the patio. Unfortunately I didn't tell her that. So RL and I watch as she races down the stairs, flies past us, and...bonk, right into the screen door. Apparently she's just not all that smart. It took her awhile to finally face us again (I think she was a little humiliated, honestly, and probably had a bit of a headache). We laughed for awhile about that one.

The next day, RL had his own embarassing moment. I was sleeping in, and he graciously got up early and rode his bike to get us some breakfast. He brought it home, fixed up a tray so I could have breakfast in bed, then decided to heat up the syrup for the pancakes. It was too tall to fit in the microwave, so he layed it on its side. But then he didn't want syrup to leak out all over the microwave, so he thought he should have something to prop it up. So he looks around, and, right in front of him is his wallet. What better prop? Good size, right shape.

So he wedges his wallet in there, right underneath the syrup, and puts the microwave on for 30 seconds. When he pulls it out, he notices that it smells a little funny, like burnt leather (hmm, interesting). When he finally tells me about it a few hours later, I say, don't you think your credit cards might have suffered some damage too? And then he starts thinking about the fact that there's METAL on the back of them, and starts worrying that maybe they won't work.

Fast forward to us at Nordstrom Rack a few hours later, where RL is purchasing a new wallet. He pulls the credit cards out of the old one and realizes that there have been little explosions all over the back of them, and that no, they don't work. The stink is horrible too, and the girl checking him out is less than pleased that she has to manually enter his information while holding this foul-smelling piece of plastic.

I'm sure I did something equally embarassing this week, but I just can't seem to remember it...

two, no three, random musings

First, i'm in a five-week summer class with some fellow grad students on media ethics. exciting! actually, it is really interesting. in our class is one of the research-track students, a guy from chile. I give him a lot of credit--it's hard writing journalistically in a language not your own.

Anyway, mr. chile came to the first day of class with one of those blue-velcro-soft-cast type things on his foot. When i asked him what happened, he said, "oh, it's really a silly story." Apparently he broke his toe while "taking a nap." His leg fell asleep, and when he woke up, he jumped out of bed too quick and jammed his toe. I tried really hard not to laugh when he told me, but I immediately came home and told RL, who decided he would start telling people that was how he broke his neck. "Well I was taking a nap you see..."

Second, I just started a job waiting tables at a little Mexican restaurant. On Sunday i was there for nine hours (way too long for grandma tplate), and got to meet a variety of very young hostesses and bussers. One of the hostesses, Iris, was telling me that she had tried to quit a few weeks ago, but just kept coming back. "This place is awful. Everyone backstabs and talks about each other. You think you won't get sucked in but you will." Uhhh, ok? Note to self: Don't tell this girl anything.

She told me she was 16 and I asked her if this was her first job. "Oh no, I have a lot of responsibility. I go to school and cosmetology school. Yeah, I've got big aspirations. (Read: I'm not planning on working in a restaurant for the rest of my life and I'm silently judging you right now for your decision to work here at your advanced age.)" Wow! Good for you! I'm pretty hopeful that I won't be in a restaurant for the rest of the my life either. The kicker came when she asked me how old I was. "How old do you think I am?" She said she really didn't know. I told her I was 30. "Oh," she said. "Well that's not that bad." Thanks sweetie.

Finally, I was on the bus home today and noticed this sign. I think it's funny for a variety of reasons.



1) Shouldn't you designate an area TO stand, not an area to NOT stand? I thought that was the point of designating something. As in, "please park only in designated areas." I had to read it a few times to understand the logic.

2) Wouldn't it have been easier to say please don't stand in the yellow area? Instead of having to draw a big arrow to show what you're talking about?

3) And what is Mr. Naked Man doing leaning against that door anyway? Is he trying to look cool? And I'm pretty sure that no person would ever be able to maintain that pose while on a jerky bus. The moral of the story is, don't be Joe Cool. Joe Cool could die when the bus takes a sharp corner, especially embarassed by his nakedness and the fact that he failed to stand in an undesignated area.

RTD Denver, if you need any more signage help, you know where to find me.

Life with a 12-year-old

A couple of funny conversations between RL and I of late....

We had a block party last Sunday, and RL paid for a kind of pricey keg of beer for our party-goers (something about "gas" prices up means "transportation costs" are also up, and therefore "everything" is more expensive these days. who knew?) Anyway, RL's not drinking right now, so he wanted some money back on his investment. He decided to make a little sign directing people to send donations his way.

RL: Do you think the sign should say "look for the guy in the neck brace and the red visor"?
Me: Um, I'm pretty sure you can leave off the red visor descriptor.
RL: Really?
Me: Like there's going to be another guy here in a neck brace and a blue visor?
RL: Oh.

+++++
Last night I went upstairs to bed while RL was enjoying his favorite, obsessive past time of Tetris (that's right, on the original NES!). It was almost 11pm, way past his bed time, and I told him he should probably shut it down for the night. After about the tenth "just one more game" exclamation, I gave up.

So I'm upstairs brushing my teeth, and I notice that the jingly Tetris music isn't going anymore, but I don't hear RL moving around or anything. What I do hear is the little squeak of the Nintendo controller, and RL trying to be quiet.

Me, from upstairs: Did you just turn the music off so I would think that you weren't playing anymore?
RL: (suppressing giggles) Ummmm, no?
Me: What are you doing then?
RL: Stuff. (more giggles)
Me: You are like a 12-year-old.
RL: I can't believe you busted me!

RL came upstairs finally, still laughing about his feeble attempt to be sneaky. Ah yes, he is a 12-year-old. And of course, I'm the one that can't get the jingly Tetris music out of my head.

you know you want this pillow

Since RL's had to wear his neck brace at all times for the last few months, the quest for a comfortable sleeping position has been rather elusive for him. Awhile ago he was laying in bed, dreaming of the perfect pillow: it would be low in the middle, for when he was sleeping on his back, and higher on the sides, to support the side-sleeping positions. He even developed a whole As-Seen-On-TV scam, complete with $300 off if you called in the next 30 minutes, and a free pillow for your cat.

It sounded like a great idea. Unfortunately the pillow already exists. Tempur-pedic sells the Millennium Pillow, with RL's exact specifications. (RL was actually convinced that someone at Tempur-Pedic overheard his idea, developed, patented, and began selling the pillow all in the week that it took him to think it up and find it).

Well, needless to say, RL bought the pillow, and it's pretty fricking fantastic. It cups your head just right, offering gentle support. It's like a little cushion of delight. The other night I was wondering out loud if I would ever get to experience the delight myself, and RL offered it up! I was shocked. He said we could share and he happily traded pillows with me.

For about 20 minutes. I'm sinking in, feeling tempur-pedic-riffic, and falling asleep. All of the sudden RL's waking me up, saying he's sorry but on second thought, he can't give it up. He's been laying there all uncomfortable and stressing about the possibility of not being able to sleep. So I wake myself up and hand it over.

No really, I'm fine. No delight needed here.

watch this if you want to get freaked out

as you probably know, RL's been convalescing because of a big ski crash in early March. We've seen the other video of the accident a number of times, but finally got a really good shot from a friend who was recording the competition. mind you, i was watching the other video live as it happened, and couldn't really tell what was going on other than that he was laying there not moving for quite awhile. i am SO GLAD i wasn't watching this video, because i would have thought he was dead for sure.

so, here it is. it's scary, but definitely gives a better picture of why his helmet was banged in two places and he ended up with some minor brain trauma and a few fractured vertebrae.



obviously he's doing much better these days!

one day left

it's been forever and it's because i've been busy trying to finish year one of grad school and take care of RL, who needs a lot of attention and driving around these days.

i'm tired, and particularly sleepy today, which is bad because i have about two hours to finish both finals. plus my pinky hurts because i jammed it playing kickball last night. i was a defensive kickball rockstar though, and we won the game, so it's all worth it.

so, more next week maybe when i don't have so much hanging over my head? if anyone wants to send me to italy anytime soon, i'd be game.

lessons from a farm

I met some cows today. They were really fricking cute. I don't think people know how cute cows are. They're like horses, only smaller and fuzzier and have cuter noses.

I also met some chickens, and a herding dog that barked at the chickens until they moved out of the road, out of harm's way. Apparently this herding technique works, even though the chickens are all pissy as they're obeying mr. shepherd dog.

Did I mention I was on a farm? I went to meet some delightful people who do biodynamic farming for a CSA up east of Loveland. They grow food all summer long, then can things and ferment things and put things in "clamps" which is a sort of natural outdoor refrigerator that keeps large amounts of produce fresh. At this point in the season they have only a small bit of onions and leeks and radishes, but they're preparing for the summer season of growing.

They also raise dairy cows (only seasonally, because when the green grass to feed the dairy cows dries up, the milk doesn't taste as good), and slaughter a few at the end. It was traumatic for me to stare at the big beautiful eyes of these little calves and know that someday they would be dinner. But I completely respect the fact that these farmers put everything they have into raising these little buggers, and give thanks for the life they give in the end. Really, it's the only way it should be.

The couple who run this farm literally live off of it. The woman told me that when they run out of the veggies they have in a few weeks, she'll go harvest dandelion greens and wild asparagus for supper. Of course they have their canned goods and their frozen meats, but for them, not having spinach in the fridge doesn't mean a trip to the grocery store. Can you imagine?

Toward the end of our talk, I went into their house alone hoping to use their restroom. I walked in and saw two toilets--one conventional, and one compost. There was a little sign next to it explaining how to do it (complete with a bucket of sawdust), but I just couldn't bring myself. So I held it. I'm such a wuss.

After two hours, part of me was ready to get out of the country, to get back to a place where I can have my spinach any time of the year. But on my drive home, I was uber-conscious of the semi trucks full of building equipment blazing past me on the highway. So many trucks ready to build so many more houses, destroying the prairie for ugly housing developments with ridiculous names like "Sweetgrass" and "Prairie View."

It feels like it's too late to go back to living like those folks do. Too late for me I guess, because I really enjoy spinach in January.

love song

It's hard not to fall in love with Boulder on days like today.

Sixty degrees means finally going outside without a jacket. It means people riding their bikes, walking everywhere. Boys and girls holding hands. Soccer games and frisbees. And wearing shoes with no socks.

After months of air dry and heavy with nothing but snow and cold, finally, today, a waft of milkweed, my favorite Boulder scent. It's always reminded me of my mother.

The sky is, as usual, an incredible shade of blue. The warmth of the day contradicts the snow-flecked ever-present hills. The windows are open, and there's not a drop of snow on the ground.

I ride the bus and sense the energy of excitement, of potential, that everyone must be feeling.

I do research for my classes and discover that despite the horrors of the world, despite poverty and factory farms and violence, there are people doing amazing things. Teaching children how to plant gardens, get their hands dirty, live from the land. People learning, traveling, sharing. And people rallying around their candidates, putting more time and energy into democracy than we ever thought possible.

It's about to be spring. Isn't it time we used this newfound energy to do something?

On days like today, it's hard not to fall in love with life.

lobster fest 08

Yeah, it's been awhile. But that's because nothing terribly exciting has happened recently. Until last night.

That's right, it's Lobster Fest at Red Lobster, and boy, did we celebrate those lobsters.

I know what you're thinking. Tplate, aren't you a vegetarian? Well, yes, but once in awhile I'll indulge in a little shellfish. Nevermind that these bottom feeders have twice the cholesterol of red meat, and that there was an actual tank of live lobsters as we walked into the restaurant, one of which inevitably ended up on our plate of Lobster Lover's Dream. (At least it's fresh, right?)

The good thing about lobster is that you can pull the edible part out of the shell fairly easily (none of those "bones" to get in the way, one of the reasons I can't deal with meat) and then dip it in melted butter. I mean, come on.

We went with our friends, one of whom received a Red Lobster gift card for Christmas, and had been literally holding onto it until Lobster Fest came around. So we happily donned our plastic bibs, munched on those delicious herb cheese biscuits, and ate our fill of crustacean delicacies.

Afterward we went and saw U2 in 3D, which I would highly recommend if it's playing in your area. I was a tad disappointed with the fact that Bono did not once point his crotch at the camera, but he did reach out to touch us at least once (with his hand). The 3D thing was great (made possible, in part, by RL's company) and made you feel like a really tall person wandering around the crowd and the stage. I got all inspired by the music, then started daydreaming about Bono running for president. Would The Edge would be his running mate? Would they run under those names? The Edge is actually named Dave. Bono is named Paul. Borrrring. They could be like the first rock n' roll leaders of the free world. The Bono/Edge ticket. Yeah.

I wonder if Bono and/or The Edge have ever been to Lobster Fest? I think they, like us, might do it just for the kitsch factor.

whose rhetoric is this?

Reading a NY Times article this morning about yesterday's caucuses, I was amused by the language the Republicans are using about this election. Also kind of frightened. I know I am firmly entrenched on the other side of things, but my candidate just isn't talking like this.

On his win in Kansas: "Mr. Huckabee declared that the voters had been heard from. “They spoke with one voice,” he said. “They said I am the authentic conservative in this race.”

I honestly can't believe people fight over who's more conservative, who's more authentic. Have you been with us for the past eight years? That's not going to win this race, not in this America. The people he's speaking to are an ever-diminishing group. Do they not realize this? Why not expand your horizons a little? Open up to new possibilities?

Mr. Huckabee compared himself to Ronald Reagan when he challenged President Gerald Ford for the 1976 nomination. “He was the pariah of the party,” he said. “Now people love Ronald Reagan.”

I'm sorry, but I don't know anyone who loves Ronald Reagan.

Then, his opponent:

A spokesperson from McCain's camp said: “Our focus remains the same: uniting the Republican Party to defeat Democrats in 2008.”

Way to go! It's all about defeating the enemy! Unite to defeat! Who cares about the real issues at stake? We just want to make sure we win! Indeed, I have lost much respect for McCain in the last few weeks, as he has basked in his wins and lost sight of anything that matters. (And by the way, did anyone see his 96-year-old mother on stage with him the other night? Apparently she takes her fashion cues from Barbara Bush. Hey, it worked for George W., right?)

Finally, let's look at this very apropos picture of Mr. Obama, which topped the NY Times story. I don't know if they were trying to make a statement or what, but he seems to be sitting in the center of those two background colors quite nicely.

why i'm annoyed today

I had a nice, relaxing yet productive weekend, and even enjoyed some time out with the girls on Saturday night. The Superbowl was even fun!

But now it's Monday, and the crap has set in. I've got a story deadline for school tomorrow night, so this morning I got up and got to it. I had done all I could before the weekend (because honestly, when you're calling professional sources, they're not going to talk to you on the weekend. No one bothered to remind my professor of this, however, when she gave us this ridiculous deadline.). I was feeling good before class today because I had found a perfect source and emailed and called him. I really thought it was going to be one of those days where everything worked out perfectly.

Turns out, I was wrong. Not only am I getting sick (throat yuckiness), but I missed the bus to school by about one minute this morning, and the next one was late. That equalled me standing in the snow, feeling sick, wasting time that I should have been spending on this article.

Finally got to class, heard another two journalism professionals tell us just how hard (and poorly compensated) this job is. Great! Class let out early, so I went to my internship and worked for a couple of hours on the article (which is also for the internship. Shh.).

Was actually feeling like I had made some progress, interviewed a woman, got some other good contacts....then I realized that because of the stupid PC I work on there, the changes I had made had somehow not saved. I've done this before on this computer, so I should know that when you download something from an email and don't save it right away on your desktop, it disappears. Ludicrous!! I did all this work, hit save, and then couldn't find the document for the life of me. Called IT who was no help, and then just frantically tried to remember the quotes this woman had just given me.

When I had done all I could do, I left for the day, not even helped by the piece of toffee my nice co-worker shared. I walked out of the office and could see the bus waiting, but knew that there was no way I was running on the snowy sidewalks with a sore throat. So I managed to miss that bus by about one minute too. Then I'm standing waiting for the next one, and some crazy man (maybe not crazy, maybe just Tourrette's) walks up and starts yelling nonsense at everyone.

Then I started thinking, if I had Tourrette's and couldn't control what I say, wouldn't I try to tell people? Would I wear a sign? Something like, "Please ignore my offensive rantings, I really can't help it"? Just a thought.

The biggest bummer is that tonight is supposed to be Date Night for RL and I, and the dumping snow and throat yuckiness are making me think that's just not going to happen.

At least there's Tuesday...right?

i heart the waiting room

I went to the dentist today, first time in almost a year (gasp!). When I checked in I told the lady behind the counter who I was and that I had new insurance. She took my card, made a copy, gave it back to me, and I sat down. Then, one minute later she comes out and calls "Tplate?" like I hadn't just told her my fricking name, and like there are more than two people in the waiting room. Weird.

She brings me into the office, sits me down and puts on one those bibs to catch your drool (which came in very handy later, when I was, in fact, drooling), and leaves. I sit in the chair for 10 minutes waiting for the hygienist. Without the comfort of the magazine I just left in the waiting room.

Why do they do this? A few months ago I had to go the lady doctor and the same thing happened. I'm all sitting in the waiting room, reading any of the 100 fascinating magazines they have available, and then they call me back. I go in the office, undress, and sit on the table in my paper nightie until the nurse comes back in and tells me that the doctor just got in with a patient who happened to be late for her appointment. I was going to have to wait 20 minutes or so. Okay, so I, who was EARLY to my appointment, have to wait for some other jerk who happened to be late for hers. But not only do I have to wait, I have to wait in a paper nightie with NOTHING TO READ. Delightful. So I read the posters on the wall about the reproductive system about fifteen times. (I had no idea the fallopian tubes were so lengthy!)

Today's dentist appointment ended with them telling me that I had FOUR cavities, and another filling from childhood had disappeared. (Apparently I swallowed it. Delightful.) Now, I haven't had cavities since I was 15, so I really don't know what the numbing/drilling/filling regime is like now, but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like it. Also apparently, when you turn 30 weird things like this happen.

Like I don't have enough to do now that I'm 30.

sled fest 08

Well, as you can see, I had to change the name of my blog. Yup, I couldn't hold on to 29 any longer, and the 30s are here. I'm okay with it though, and, as my older and wiser family members keep telling me, it's going to be a great decade.

For my birthday my awesome Colorado-side friends indulged me and went sledding! It was 60 degrees but our sledding hill managed to hold on to enough snow to make it fun. Here's a peek at one of cardboard box races (the "station wagon" of sleds as RL calls them). Team Tplate vs. Team Cardboard Box. We totally won, as you'll see. Please ignore the point where I put the camera down to put my gloves on. :)




After we tried to squeeze eight people into a box and the boxes subsequently fell apart, we raced on what I can only describe as "rocket sleds" which propelled us down the snow/ice/grass into the padded trees and hay bales at the bottom of the hill.



For my final run of the day I decided to go a totally different route and ended up narrowly missing a tree and landing gracefully in the gravel under the swingset of the nearby playground. Everyone watching was pretty sure we were about to go to the hospital, but I managed to come out of it with just a few scrapes. (Apparently there is something you can do called "bailing" which would have diminished the risk, but I was unaware of he technique at the time.)

Once we were all cleaned up, we went for burgers at Red Robin, a classic teenage experience!




My friends are great. Thanks guys!

Update!

Update: I posted a Missed Connection for incessant-bus-cord-puller-guy, at the advice of Tracy Jane. Hopefully he'll get back to me soon and I can let you all know how it turns out.

Stay tuned!

This just in...

I got on the bus today, and seated in front of me was a man on his cell phone. Soon after I sat down, he pulled the cord to request a stop. When the bus driver stopped, the guy kindly got off his cell phone long enough to say, "Oh sorry, I pulled it for the wrong reason." Then he got back to his phone conversation.

At first I thought he must have meant he pulled it for the wrong stop, and that he would be getting off at the next one. But no. He was on the bus all the way to the end with me.

So I spent the entire bus ride trying to figure out what the hell other reason you would have for pulling the bus cord other than to request a stop. It's like that Lewis Black bit about overhearing a waitress at the IHOP saying "If it weren't for my horse, I never would have spent that year in college." In his words, don't even try to understand what that means or your brain will explode! So I tried to keep calm as I went over the options.

Did he just get excited and have to pull something? Does he have a tic? Was he about to fall out of his chair and grabbed onto the nearest thing?

This is the kind of language you use when you get into relationships you know you shouldn't be in: I did it for the wrong reason! Or steal some kid's milk money on the playground to get in with the cool kids*: I did it for the wrong reason! This is not the kind of language you use on the bus.

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*Please note I have never, ever done this.

Flight 161, DFW to DEN

I had an unusually eventful trip back from Ft. Worth the other day, and I thought you might find it interesting.

Got to the airport, checked in at the kiosk while 50 other people stood in line for a desk agent. Don’t they know the glories of airport machinery?

Got in security line with the bottom outside pocket of my suitcase open because it has the liquid goods in it that I’m about to remove (more on that in a second). Kindly woman behind me in line tells me that the bottom of my suitcase is open. I just smile at her and tell her it’s okay. Not til I get to the scanner do I see that the actual bottom of my suitcase is unzipped, and clothes are sneaking out. Kind of feel like an idiot. Think that somewhere behind me she must be staring and feeling smug.

Spent the rest of the time in the security line wondering whether they were going to bug me about the fact that my clear plastic zip-top bag was in fact a gallon size, instead of a quart. Picked up the bag they provide and saw that it is actually something more like a pint, not a quart, and there was no way I could fit all of my goods in there. Decide to chance it and get through.

Went to Burger King in the hopes of some ounce of protein/nutrition. Indian guy ahead of me orders a Croissan’wich* without the meat or egg, for which I am grateful because I’m about to order one without meat and I am happy to have someone forge that path ahead of me (a treacherous one at places like Burger King). Started a conversation in my head, which went something like this: Do Hindus also not eat eggs? Why? Are they used to going to Burger King? How awful. Seems like there are plenty of other good things they could eat. A croissant with some American cheese on it just doesn’t seem like it would fit the bill.

Sat eating my Croissanwich, sans meat, and watched the plane before mine disembarking (debarking?). See a guy from my neighborhood get off the plane, a guy who I met once at a community gathering, and whom I always see on the bus in town. Weird.

Went up to the desk to ask a question, but had to wait for the desk agent to get off his cell phone, talking to goodness knows who about some possible emergency at home.

Finally, he gets off:

Me: Is there any way to swap my window seat for an aisle?
Older man who suddenly springs up beside me: Is this where you place your breakfast order? (obviously joking)
Desk agent: Only seats left are middle seats, honey.
Me: Okay, thanks (kind of annoyed that I just got called honey).
Older man: Don’t take the last of the eggs benedict!
Me, looking at the older man strangely: uh, huh, ok.

Older man wanders off too, and I wonder if he came up to the desk when I did just to pull my leg.

Got in line to board and watched the boarding agent tell a passenger, somewhat harshly, that she has to have a stroller tag. The agent’s primary language is something like Chinese, so her exhortations seem even harsher. Then she starts arguing with the other desk agent about who exactly is going to get her the stroller tag. Poor stroller-laden woman doesn’t know what to do.

Later, when everyone is seated, Chinese agent gets on the plane, and tells a little man across the aisle from me that the box he’s checked is not going to make it on. “Your BOX is not going on the plane!” she says. Then the other desk agent tells him that the airline is not responsible for the perishable stuff in the box. It’s not clear why the BOX is not going to make it on, but Chinese agent just keeps saying “the BOX, it’s not coming on the plane. The BOX.” The little man apparently does not speak fluent English, so she just keeps getting louder. Or this woman just likes to yell at people.

Weird. After that everything seemed okay. Meaning, after we got the heck out of Texas everything seemed okay.

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*Is that the correct apostrophe placement? I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a Croissanw’ich before so it’s hard to tell.