Hello, My Name is Kerry and I am an Idiot

You've all heard me complaining about the cold and snow. A lot. Because it snowed a lot here and also it's cold and I do not find that particular combination of meteorlogical events to be particularly wonderful. You may not know that I have been attempting to improve my attitude about snow--or maybe I mentioned that. I can't remember exactly because I'm on pain killers right now (that was the upside of today--the doctor gave me the good stuff). Why am I on pain killers? Because in an effort to improve my attitude about winter, I went sledding today and broke my back. I thought that if I did enjoyable winter activities, I would enjoy winter more. Yeah. Thankfully, I didn't break my back very badly--I just have mild compression fracture in one of my vertebra. Not bad enough to require a brace or any kind of major medical intervention, just bad enough to hurt like hell. And now that that particular vertebra is compressed, it will never un-compress. This is the kind of fracture that old ladies with osteoporosis get and that make them shorter. So at the ripe old age of 33, I now have my first one and Moses estimates I'm about a millimeter shorter than I was before. All this because I was really trying my darnedest to have fun in winter. From here on out, I'm swearing off down-hill winter sports. If I can ever move again I might, might try snow-shoes on level ground. Otherwise, I'm just hunkering down some good books and few movies for the duration.
If you're wondering about the idiot part: I sustained this injury by sledding down and icy slope with a bump in it. I did my best to avoid the bump by choosing a path well away from the bump. When I noticed that I was heading toward the bump, I tried to steer by leaning away from it which had the effect of shooting me directly toward the bump--which now that I give this some consideration makes sense, but while hurtling down the hill at a million miles per hour didn't occur to me. I then failed to bail out of my sled in time which resulted in my hitting the bump, catching air, and coming down hard on my back. Not my most graceful moment (not that I really have a lot--or maybe any--graceful moments). Another interesting note: I am not the only idiot in town. There were at least five other people in the emergency room with an injury similar to mine and the nurse told me that in winter they average 22 sledding-related accidents per day. I also learned that when sledding you should lay down (back or stomach) and not sit up, and should also wear a helmet (just for the record, I did not hit my head).

TMI

Tonight while Garion was taking his shower:

Garion: "Mom! Mooommmm! MOOOOMMMMMMMM!!!!!"
Me: "Yes, Garion, what do you need?"
Garion: "Can I use the peppermint soap from your bathroom? Because I keep farting and it's really stinky."

I'm Moving South, Who's Got Room?

This is the 7 day forecast for Flagstaff as of this afternoon:

Wind Advisory

This Afternoon: Partly sunny, with a high near 51. South southwest wind around 13 mph, with gusts as high as 24 mph.

Tonight: Partly cloudy, with a low around 28. Southwest wind between 8 and 14 mph, with gusts as high as 25 mph.

Saturday: A 30 percent chance of snow showers, mainly after 11am. Mostly cloudy, with a high near 43. Windy, with a southwest wind 13 to 16 mph increasing to between 28 and 31 mph. Winds could gust as high as 43 mph. New snow accumulation of less than a half inch possible.

Saturday Night: Snow, mainly before 11pm. Low around 27. Windy, with a southwest wind between 25 and 32 mph, with gusts as high as 40 mph. Chance of precipitation is 80%.

Sunday: A 50 percent chance of snow showers. Mostly cloudy, with a high near 29. West southwest wind between 16 and 20 mph, with gusts as high as 31 mph.

Sunday Night: A 40 percent chance of snow showers. Mostly cloudy, with a low around 18.

Monday: Snow, mainly after 11am. High near 32. Chance of precipitation is 80%.

Monday Night: Snow likely. Mostly cloudy, with a low around 25.

Tuesday: Snow showers likely. Mostly cloudy, with a high near 36.

Tuesday Night: Snow showers likely. Mostly cloudy, with a low around 25.

Wednesday: Snow likely. Cloudy, with a high near 37.

Wednesday Night: Snow likely. Cloudy, with a low around 27.

Thursday: Snow likely. Mostly cloudy, with a high near 34.

People, that is 7 DAYS worth of forecast in which the word "snow" is prominently featured. AND, highs that don't creep out of the mid-30's. I don't think there's enough hot chocolate in the universe to get me through.

The Best Parts of the Tucson 1/2 Marathon

1. Having a change to visit with my Tucson family and friends. On Saturday, I had lunch with my grandmother and uncles who I have seen since my brother's wedding in May. It was great to catch up with them and made me wish I had some more time to hang in Tucson. Saturday night, I met up with my work buddies Kristine and Stacy for a pre-race, carb loading dinner at Gavi, a fantastic Italian restaurant in Tucson. Saturday morning, I met up with another work buddy, Heather, and Heather's friend Tracy, at the start line (well, actually in the porta-potty line). These people were absolutely the best part of my weekend.
2. Support crew! Kristine came out in the cold at a god-forsaken hour in the morning to stand around at mile 1.5 and take excess clothing when Heather, Tracy, and I came by. This was awesome--I got wear my long sleeve jersey while I was still shivering at the beginning of the race and then ditch it after I got hot without having run the rest of the race with it tied around my waist. Kristine was also at the finish to cheer and then she drove us all back to the parking lot so we didn't have to wait around for the shuttle bus at the end of the race. So nice.
3. I lost two pounds. I'm sure this is mostly water loss, but considering the enormous amount of food I've consumed in the last two days, this is still a shocking number. Let me lay it out for you. Saturday morning, I ate two eggs and a piece of toast for breakfast. I then proceeded to Starbucks and picked up a grande Peppermint Mocha Twist, with whipped cream thank you very much, for the drive to Tucson. For lunch on Saturday, we went to a Vietnamese restaurant where I had a Thai iced tea (you know, the one with real cream and a ridiculous amount of sugar), and some kind of delicious beef and noodle dish that I forgot the name of but tasted delicious. I devoured almost all of it. Saturday night, Stacy had the brilliant idea of sharing our entrees so that we could have a pasta dish and protein dish in preparation for race day (Stacy ran the full marathon--I can't even begin to contemplate adding another 13 miles onto what I did yesterday. Yay, Stacy!) The portions at Gavi are big, so it's not like half of two entrees equals two dinners. It's really more like I had two dinners. And I ate them both. And they were wonderful. Sunday morning was the dreaded half bagel and banana. After the race, I had a subway sandwich, chips (salt tasted soooo good) and root beer. Then, in Casa Grande I stopped at Dairy Queen, where I had a Blizzard with Snickers. THEN. I got home and Moses had made lasagna. mmmmm. So I had two pieces of that, salad, and a piece of pie that was leftover from something last week. See, I told you. A ridiculous amount of food. And I STILL lost two pounds. Awesome.

Tucson 1/2 Marathon Race Report

My first half marathon: done. Woohoo! The race started as I think all races do: stumbling through the dark at 5:00 a.m. to get on an overheated school bus with a bunch of ridiculously and intimidatingly fit people to ride to the starting line, where you stand around outside in frigid temperatures waiting for your turn at the porta-potty. After the national anthem, the herd was off and although I was freezing, I did a very good job of reminding myself not to start too fast. Or what I thought was a good job. I ended up with a side stitch in the first mile, which is extremely annoying because: (1) I usually don't get them; and (2) all I had had to eat was half a bagel and a banana at 4:30 a.m. that I had to force down my throat. I definitely need to figure my pre-race breakfast issues. I usually run in the mornings before I eat. But, you can't run 13.1 miles on an empty stomach. Which requires eating. But, then I get a side stitch. So obviously I need a different breakfast and I will have to do some research on what that might be. Maybe some sort of smoothie type thing? I find it really hard to eat before a race anyway, so maybe not having to chew would work in my favor.
I also decided that for this race I'd trying listening to my ipod, since that seems to be the thing to do now. I had a Doctor Who story, narrated by David Tennant (who plays the Doctor in the TV series) that was 2 and 1/2 long-- just about perfect for the race. Unfortunately, I have no idea if this was a good story or not because I was so focused on running that I barely heard the story. I just had a vague sense of David Tennant yammering in my ear without a clue what he was on about. Which I guess answers the question of whether an ipod does me any good during a race: no.
After recovering from the side stitch issue, miles 2 through about 8 were fantastic. 8 through 10 were a little tougher both because I was starting to get tired and because there were a few long, gentle hills there. Nothing major, but hills nonetheless. And this, folks is where high altitude training totally, completely rocks. I, me, slow-poke Kerry, passed people on the hills. Oh, man that felt good. Miles 8 through 10 were also a little difficult because I had a snargler running behind me. The snargler was a rather large man who seemed to be having some kind of respiratory issue where he was sort of gurgling, sniffing, and groaning evertime he took a breath--he was snargling. And he was snargling right behind me. And snargling is really, really annoying to listen to. I think he was actually trying to pass me. I'm sorry Mr. Snargler, there was just no way I was going to let that happen.
Miles 10 through 13.1 were pretty much just hell even though I managed to ditch the snargler. I sang a little song in my head that was a variation of Dory's song in "Finding Nemo" : "just keep running, just keep running." I felt like miles 10 through 13 took as long as miles 1-10 and I just tried to focus on finishing one mile at a time. I crossed the finished line in 2 hours 21 minutes and my average pace was under 11:00 minutes, so I'm pretty happy with that. Here are my detailed stats:

Overall:	982 out of 1460
Women:	521 out of 889
F 30-34:	71 out of 106
Age/Grade:	46.85% Place: 1043
Finish:	2:21:17 Pace: 10:47
Tag Time:	2:21:17
Gun Time:	2:23:52

Birthday Celebrations

The Saturday before his birthday, Garion celebrated with some of his friends from school. This was the first time that I've actually thrown a party for him with just friends. I am a complete slacker mom, but you knew that already. Embracing my slacker-ness, I opted for a party in the park, which conveniently meant I didn't have to plan activities or games because the park thoughtfully provides playground equipment. This was a bit of a gamble, considering it had snowed the week before, but I thought the payoff of possibly not having to plan activities for kindergartners was worth taking the chance of freezing our buns off in the snow at the park. The weather turned out to be beautiful and we had a great time. Unfortunately, I did not capture of any of the great time on film (I guess film doesn't really apply to digital cameras, but I don't know what the digital synonym of "film" is). I brought my camera. I just forgot to use it. Maybe next year. I also forgot to have everyone sing "happy birthday." Next year for that too! In my defense, the cupcakes were pretty much devoured before I even finished passing them out, so it's not like there was a lot of time to remember candles and singing. I did manage to capture the party aftermath though (above left)--visual evidence of another good reason to have a party at the park!
I think I mentioned in an earlier post that in my family, we have four November birthdays within one week of each other (my brother, grandpa, Garion, and me). We frequently have one big family party to celebrate all of the birthdays, and now that we live in Flagstaff this became a lot easier to do this year. On November 16th. (Still catching-up; good thing I don't write a current events blog.) Each of the birthday people get to pick something that they want for the birthday meal: my brother and Garion picked fried chicken; my grandpa chose jello salad; and I chose apple pie for dessert. We also had mashed potatoes and corn. Being the slacker that I am, I neglected to take photos during the traditional birthday moments, such as opening presents, but managed a few later in the afternoon. Up to the right is Garion on his new scooter about to run me over. After he opened it he said, "thank you for the scooter! Next year will you buy me a skateboard?" At least he remembered to say "thank you."
My Mom's birthday was in October, and as I understand it, my brother's present to her was fixing her mail box and moving it to a more convenient location. Moses, not relishing sitting around and visiting any more than my brother does, helped out. My mom, apparently seeking entertainment, set herself up to watch the show:

The show was so good that soon the audience quadrupled from one to five.
Or is that quintupled? I think that at one point they were literally watching paint dry.
We had a really nice afternoon and scrumptious meal. Especially the apple pie. Mmmmmm.

Squirrel

I took this picture on November 15th with thoughts of blogging about it. Look! I'm almost caught up.
Assuming some physiological similarities between squirrels and humans, it would appear that if I were so inclined to eat the mysterious orange berries growing in my yard--now identified as firethorn berries (thanks, Shannon)-- I would not die. Good to know.

First Snow of the Season

In keeping with my "better late than never" theory of blogging this month, I thought I'd share some photos of our first snow. Which happened on November 9th. But it's supposed to snow again this week, so in some ways, I'm really just letting you know what it's going to look like around here a few days from now. I am so far behind, I'm actually ahead.
Needless to say, Garion was beside himself with excitement to see white stuff falling from the sky. He put on his heavy coat and gloves and essentially wandered around the back yard for half an hour marveling at the miracle of snow. I wish that I could be more like that. Because I, on the other hand, was wishing for a warm cave within which to hibernate until spring.
I do have to admit, it is pretty. Maybe if I really bundle up and hang around Garion enough, I'll re-discover how much fun I used to think snow was. Maybe what we really need is a sled. And a parka. And lots of hot chocolate.

Halloween

"But, Kerry," you say, "it's November. Thanksgiving is in five days. Halloween was three weeks ago."
I know. I am aware. I am a total slacker mom. But here's the thing: my laziness in posting does not diminish Garion's cuteness in a Superman suit and so I must share. Even if I share late. Although Garion managed to create his own super-suit over the summer, he was still adamant that he wanted the "real" thing for Halloween. So here he is in all of his official glory. If you look closely, you can see that he still has a sticker on his forehead from school that day. I think it gives him extra powers or something. I also think that maybe when I take photos of Garion in our front yard, I should orient him differently. That house in the background actually belongs to our neighbor. Maybe I should not be putting pictures of other people's houses all over the internet? It is for sale though. So if you think it looks nice and would like to have us for neighbors, let me know and I'll go get the number from the "for sale" sign.

Book a Month Challenge: October

Ha! You thought I forgot didn't you? Just because November is 2/3s gone, doesn't mean I intend to shirk my Book a Month obligations. October's theme was "haunt." I didn't so much choose a book to fit the theme last month, but I did manage to read three novels (3! You can tell that I ran out of Dr. Who DVD's). So here's the plan: I'll tell you what I read and you can decide which one best fits the theme.

First up: Dead Until Dark by Charlaine Harris. This is the novel that seems the most likely candidate for the "haunt" theme but the fact of the matter is, it was also the dullest. It's about a young woman who works as a waitress in a small town in Louisiana shortly after vampires have "come out of the closet" to live among humans with the help of synthetic blood. I've never read a vampire book before, no Ann Rice when she was all the rage, never read Dracula, so I don't really have a reference point for vampire books, but this one struck me as a little lame. It sucked. (Sorry, but who can resist that pun when talking about a bad vampire book?) The main character falls in love with a vampire while also trying to solve a series of murders in her town. That was about it. And not once during the whole novel did I understand why anyone would want to date a vampire. However, I listened to Kenneth Turan review "Twilight" this morning on NPR, and I understand that if you're a teenage female, dating vampires is now the thing to do. Perhaps I'm just in the wrong demographic.

Second: Midwives by Chris Boujalin. This was my favorite of the three. Midwives tells the story of a Vermont midwife who performs an emergency cesarean section to save a baby who's mother the midwife believes has died. The baby's father and midwife's apprentice later claim that the mother was not yet dead when the midwife performed the emergency surgery and the midwife is tried for involuntary manslaughter. The novel, told from the perspective the midwife's daughter, thoughtfully examines the life of the midwife's family during the trial, the trial itself, and the practice of midwifery. Boujalin does a fantastic job of describing the intricacies and process of a criminal trial. He avoids the trap of the overly dramatic cross-examination or the stunning bit of evidence that completely exonerates or condemns the defendant and accurately describes the long and complex process of constructing a criminal defense. I was also drawn in by the larger issues at the center of the novel and the trial described therein: namely whether we ought to view pregnancy and birth as a medical condition to be treated by doctors in the controlled environment of a hospital or whether it ought to be viewed as a fundamentally natural process that the human race has managed for thousands of years, and that occasionally and rarely requires medical intervention. My own experience with pregnancy and birth straddles this divide, and I found the novel's discussion particularly compelling. (While pregnant, I received prenatal care from a midwife and had planned to have Garion outside of the hospital, at a birth center. Garion turned out to be breech, and was born by cesarean-section in a hospital.) I'm not exactly sure how this novel fits with the "haunt" theme, but I'm sure it's in there somewhere.

Third: The Other Boleyn Girl by Phillipa Gregory. This is a work of historical fiction told from the perspective of Mary Boleyn, the sister of Anne Boleyn who was the second wife of Henry VIII. Mary is, as a young girl, mistress of the King. The King later sets her aside and her sister Anne moves in to not only become the King's mistress, but to play a significant role in orchestrating the King's divorce from his first wife so that she can become the second wife. Which, as everybody knows, didn't end so well. The book is well written and Gregory is truly talented at bringing the reader into the world of 16th century England and its monarchy. How does it fit the "haunt" theme? Well, there are a lot of beheadings, so I'd surmise there are few ghosts too. I mean, if you were beheaded, don't you think you'd hang around as ghost for awhile to make the King's life a little miserable?

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Also, if you're looking at the time of this post and thinking, "wow, Kerry is really slacking off of work today!" , I am not. Garion came down with a mysterious vomiting disease last night so we're home sick. Well, he's home sick and I'm home blogging.

An Open Letter to Hollywood

Dear Hollywood,

It has been my tradition each year on my birthday to take the day off from work and attend a cinematic matinee. Understand that I work full time and am the mother of a young child, so going to a movie of my choosing is a rare and delectable treat. This is a long held and sacred tradition for me and not just any movie will do. I rely on the talents of your industry to release a movie sometime in mid-November with the following criteria: not too stupid, not too depressing, not too vulgar, something funny or maybe something with some action, or maybe something with some novel ideas. If nothing else, something with nice special effects or a grouping of unusually good-looking actors will do. Let me give you an example of previous year's movies that I found perfectly acceptable for birthday-viewing: The Incredibles (interesting story, some funny bits, some action, stunning animation), The Harry Potter movies (nice visuals); Stranger Than Fiction (interesting story and starring Emma Thompson). I do not go to the movies on my birthday to suffer, to cry, to be enlightened, or to be grossed out. I go to be entertained and to indulge in the consumption of butter-enriched popcorn.

This year you have utterly failed me. Here were the options available at my local theater:
(1) Quantum of Solace. Yes, I know James Bond would seem to fit the birthday bill and I did not regret the last time I spent two hours staring at Daniel Craig. However, I have heard that this movie is even darker than Casino Royal (which I found to be disturbingly violent in some parts) and I've heard it's about revenge. Please take note: I am not into revenge on my birthday. I think revenge is a generally nasty, ugly emotion and I don't like to think about it too much on a day that's supposed to be happy. I am also not down with overwhelming gratuitous violence. A little gratuitous violence goes a long way. I will see this movie, but not on my birthday.
(2) Madagascar. As the mother of a young child I've seen gazillion trailers for this movie and I'm fairly certain it fits into the "too stupid" category. Also, I will probably have to watch it at some point in my life, so why waste the money and the day off now?
(3) Zack and Miri Make a Porno. While I have liked, and yes even loved, some of Kevin Smith's previous movies, I find that they have generally tested the limits of my tolerance for vulgarity. I have a feeling--just a hunch mind you, that this one might push me over the edge.
(4) The Changeling. I have no desire to spend my birthday thinking about children being abducted and then the police not believing the mother when she tells them that the child they return to her isn't hers.
(5) High School Musical 3. No.
(6) Saw V. Again, no.
(7) Max Payne. This is apparently a dark police detective flick starring Marky Mark as a dude of some sort who loses family in an unspeakably violent incident. I am not down with the murder plots on my birthday.
(8) W. Too stupid, too gross, too depressing, and not funny. At least not funny in a good way. I have no idea if this assessment applies to the movie, but I've no doubt it applies to the movie's subject and I have moved on.

Hollywood, I understand that occasionally everyone has a bad year. In light of your previously adequate mid-November movie releases, I will overlook this year's dubious offerings and forgive you for your failings. I look forward with hope and optimism to next November. Thank you.

Yours truly (unless you let me down again next year),
Kerry

Happy Birthday Garion

Today is Garion's 6th birthday. 6! Who let that happen? Do you remember how exciting your birthday was when you were 6? Garion has been beside himself with excitement pretty much since last Friday and it's pretty funny to watch. He had a birthday party at the park with his friends on Saturday and on Sunday we had the big family birthday celebration (in my family, we have 4 November birthdays within one week of each other). He barely knows what to do with himself trying to decide whether he wants to play with his new legos, play his new Uno game, or read his new books. I know this will all wear off in a few days, but in the meantime I'm relishing his complete joy in his special day and the magic of turning 6.

Yes!

For the first time in a long time, tonight I can say that I am proud of my country.

Excuse Me, What?!!

Moses and I are listening to the election results on NPR. They are defining "young" voters as under 30. "Middle-Age" voters are 30 to 49. Apparently it's time to start shopping for my mid-life crisis.

Early Returns

You heard it here first: Garion came home today and reported that his kindergarten class pretended to vote and turned in a decisive victory for Barack Obama.

Oh-Mama, I Love Election Day!

This was a comment that I just left on a friend's blog and then it occurred to me that it was a good post-title. This particular friend has the best election day post I've read yet, so I'll just point you to it here. We must have had at least a dozen conversations like that at our house over the past two years. TWO YEARS--it's almost over!
I love election day, I love voting, I love waiting for poll returns. I am such a political science dork: I get all sentimental about democracy and the peaceful transfer of power and about how even the big dudes at the center of it all only get one vote, just like the rest of us. The cockles of my heart are warming just contemplating it. Here's to hoping that by tomorrow they'll be glowing.
On a side note, the below clip was sent to me by my sister-in-law as a get-out-the-vote reminder. It is simultaneously hilarious and terrifying. Just for the record, I had already submitted my early ballot before she sent this to me. Because I am a model citizen who gets all mushy at the thought of democracy in action and actually wants to be picked for jury duty (but never does--which is too bad because I would be an awesome juror--but that's another story). If tomorrow ends in disaster I am not responsible.

Just Shoot Me Now and Make it Quick

My work e-mail program is evil, devious, demented, cruel, and out to get me.
Whilst sending an e-mail to a judge, I misspelled the word "inconvenience," as in "sorry for the." Spell checker suggested "incontinence" and I accidentally ok'd it. Then, and imagine this part in horror-movie type slow motion, I watched as the program replaced the misspelled "inconvenience" with "incontinence" and sent the message. TO A JUDGE. (**If you have sensitive ears or are my mother, this is where you close your eyes**) shit. shit. shit. shit. shit. SHIT! fuck. shit, shit, shit! Out loud: "SHIT!"
Yes, I sent a message to a judge that said "sorry for the incontinence."
Oh. My. God.

The Source of the World's Ills

This morning, Moses drove over to the Coconino National Forest office to obtain a permit for cutting firewood. There are several permits for various uses issued by the Forest Service. However, the firewood permit is the only permit for which you cannot pay by credit card. That's right, you can pay for every other permit, except firewood cutting, by credit card. Of course, Moses did not have cash or a checkbook on hand and had to go find an ATM, and come back to the Forest Service office to buy the permit. Moses being Moses came home and railed (rightfully, but still, we all know how Moses enjoys a good rant) against the absurdity of the Forest Service not accepting credit cards for one kind of permit, but accepting them for every other permit.
So Moses is telling his story and going on and on.
Then Garion pipes up and you can see the light bulb go off in his head: "It's probably because of John McCain!" Yes son, I'm sure it is. And there you have it folks: brainwash early and brainwash often.

Yay Mom!

That's my mom. She's standing next to her painting that just won Best of Show in the Northern Arizona Water Color Society's 2008 Experimental Water Media Exhibition. It sold about five minutes after the awards were handed out. I'm really excited for my mom and also so happy that I got to drive down to Sedona to watch her accept her award. Here's a close up of the painting (my picture is crooked, not the painting). Click on the photo for a larger view and to see the really remarkable detail.

1/2 Marathon Switcheroo

Alight, I'm muscling through. I'm posting more because, in my imagination at least, posting more often will eventually result in better posts. I will be disciplined. I will flex my blogging muscles on a regular basis and I will hone my blogging skills. And I will become a brilliant blogger.
With that in mind, as promised: the 1/2 marathon switch. Long story short is that Imogene was really hard, I did nothing for about a week and half, then I went to Phoenix for a conference where I failed to get in a long run and then by that time I was too far behind to train for Big Sur as much as I would like. Also, running Big Sur requires buying a plane ticket, and booking a hotel and possibly renting a car, all of which for some reason cost money. Conveniently, Tucson has a nice 1/2 marathon race that is at a lower altitude (than Flagstaff) and is mostly downhill, and in December, which gives me another month to train. I love to run downhill. And, I know the course (or part of it) because I ran some of it last year in the marathon relay. So that's the story: I'm running the Tucson half rather than the Big Sur half. And now that I read it, it's not a very interesting story. I guess the better posts will not be starting immediately. Anybody want to run the Tucson 1/2 marathon with me?

Blogging about Blogging Because I'm a Dork

I had this idea, and if you look at my blog archives you see exactly when this idea occurred, that I was going to make a concerted effort to post more often. Did you look at the archives for September? Yep, last week was when I had this brilliant thought. The problem is, and there is always a problem, that I have run out of steam. I have some post ideas--there a couple Short Stack lists I want to talk about, I need to tell you all why I'm not running the Big Sur 1/2 Marathon, but have opted for the Tucson 1/2 instead (tomorrow maybe), and I've got a couple of Garion related things. So, there's material out there. I'm just lazy. Fundamentally and irrevocably lazy and therefore I am blogging about not blogging or more accurately procrastinating on real blogging by doing fake blogging. Which also makes me, fundamentally, a dork.

I am Superman's Mother

Behold:

Grow a Bike

This is so completely awesome, I could cry. A man named Craig Calfee has developed a method for growing bamboo to make bicycle frames. According to Calfee, "bamboo is an ideal material for bicycles: It's stronger and lighter than most metals, but absorbs road vibration much better."
He uses lugs made from a hemp epoxy composite to hold the bamboo frame tubes together.
Apparently, the bike is similar in weight to an aluminum bike, but offers better performance. Sweet. Maybe I'll give up on tomatoes and start growing bicycles. Check out the full article from Wired here.

My Yard the Twilight Zone

In my blog description, I claim to write about things flowering in my head, my yard, my life, blah, blah, blah. The yard's been pretty neglected for awhile and for some reason, I feel the need to share now. Last spring, my father-in-law gave me some tomato seedlings. I found out later that these were seedlings that he started from a grocery store tomato's seeds. An heirloom tomato, but a grocery store tomato nonetheless. My father-in-law has a special talent for growing all sorts of things (and, ahem, we're not going to go into that too much) and he also has a fantastic greenhouse. He managed to get a few (I think 3) tomatoes from these particular seeds. I, being possessed of neither gardening superpowers nor a greenhouse, figured my chances for getting tomatoes from these plants were pretty slim. My tomato plants got big and busy, popped out a few flowers, and then started a slow, dramatic death. This is how dramatic:

Somewhere around the first of this month, I decided this was a lost cause and quit watering the plants. Two nights ago, Moses called me outside. This is what he found:

One renegade tomato. A survivor. The little stinker--now I have to water this plant again. After taking into account the price of the pot, the compost, and water for three months, that there is probably the world's most expensive tomato.

Other weird things have been happening in my yard. Apparently in Flagstaff there is this season called Autumn and this is what happens to trees:


Notice that reddish tinge? I understand that shortly the red will prevail, all the leaves will fall off the trees, and I will be plunged into arctic hell until about June 1st of next year.

We also have a bush that produces copious amounts of a beautiful orange berry:

There is some little kid part of me that really wants to pluck one off and pop it into my mouth just to see what it tastes like. Don't worry, I have resisted. Perhaps though, I will find out what these are and see if, perchance they are edible. Mmmm, random-orange-berry jam.

Answer That

Moses started up a new blog called "G&D Discuss Science" in which he attempts to answer Garion's various science questions. So far, we've gotten questions about rocks creating things (I don't know either, my kid is weird) and how people walk.
Tonight, Garion said, "oh, Dad I have a science question for today! How are people built, I mean how are they made? How does God make people?"

Yeah. Alrighty then.

Good luck with that, Honey.

Book a Month Challenge: September

Please take note: I am so on top of it that I am filing my Book a Month Challenge report before the month is over with. Because I rock. September's theme is "Change." I read "Farewell My Subaru: An Epic Adventure in Local Living" by Doug Fine. Apparently Doug Fine is an NPR correspondent, but I have been slavishly addicted to NPR for about 10 years and his name completely fails to ring a bell. Not a single one. Not even a little jingle bell. Perhaps he is a periodic (wannabe) NPR correspondent. Anyway, Mr. Fine sells everything he owns in some big city on the east coast and moves to Silver City, New Mexico where he purchases a small house on forty acres of land (see, this book is all about "change"--I'm on time and on theme, feel free to bask in my glory.) Mr. Fine's intent is to live as locally as possible and his book chronicles his adventures in local living: gardening, rainwater harvesting, solar panel installation, and bio-dieseling. Mr. Fine is single (or was at the time of the writing of the book), does not have children, and apparently has an endless, mysterious source of income. And the dude totally stole my dream. But he did not steal it well. I was repeatedly amazed in reading this book how not with it Mr. Fine-the-alleged-NPR-correspondent was. I must have thought to myself at least 20 times, "dude, what were you thinking?" For example, he let his chickens run around his yard, without the protection of the dog (who was confined to the house for the night for some reason that had to do with the author's girlfriend or something), and coyotes ate the chickens. And he describes this as if it was completely reasonable to think that you could let your chickens run around your yard in the desert and that they would die of old age and not coyote poultry-icide. However, it's probably unreasonable of me to think that everyone who attempts this sort of lifestyle is going to have a knowledge base of someone like Moses and it's probably good to have an honest account of the pitfalls of sustainable living out there. And also, if I were to attempt this sort of thing on my own (without Moses) I'd probably be worse off than Mr. Fine, alleged NPR correspondent, so I probably shouldn't talk. Although, I wouldn't let my chickens run around willy-nilly as coyote bait. On the upside, the book is a light funny read on pursuing the sustainable life and is very entertaining, if not completely informative, read.

No Use Crying Over Spilt Shampoo

A couple of months ago, my mom gave me an enormous bottle of shampoo. Yep, just randomly. Because nothing says "I love you" like a half gallon of shampoo (thanks Mom!). She scored the shampoo from her friend who is a hair stylist and gets major discounts on this kind of stuff. Or, at least that's what she told me. By which I mean she didn't say "Kerry, I'm concerned about your personal hygiene, here's an enormous bottle of shampoo, please use it."

Last night Garion emerged from his bath positively radiating the smell of said shampoo. Moses and I were sitting in the living room and we could smell him from the upstairs bathroom. The smell was so overpowering that Moses started sneezing, had to go sit outside for awhile, and we had to sleep with the bathroom and all of our bedroom windows open so as not to pass out from shampoo-smell-toxicity. This morning I investigated the half-gallon sized shampoo bottle. It was about 1/4 full. Before Garion's bath, I had used maybe a quarter of the bottle. That means my child used 1/4 gallon of shampoo in his bath last night. Further investigation revealed that he also used all of what was left in the liquid soap bottle (it was about half full), and a not insignificant amount of baking soda, which I normally use to wash Garion's hair because, up until last night, he has hated shampoo.

Garion and I then had a long conversation about appropriate shampoo and soap use. Looking to end the discussion on a positive note, I said to Garion, "but you remembered to wash your hair with soap?." To which Garion responded, "um, no, I forgot."

Book a Month Challenge: August

August's (yeah I know it's been September for 10 days now) Book a Month theme was "cold." I read Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer. Into Thin Air recounts Krakauer's experience's as part of a climbing expedition that attempted to summit Everest in the spring of 1996. Krakauer has clean, crisp writing style that is both straight forward and engaging. The book starts starts at the end of the expedition; Krakauer recounts reaching the summit, and gives a brief, vivid, glimpse of the complete mental and physical exhaustion he experienced by the time he reached the summit. In these first pages, the reader also meets the members of Krakauer's expedition group and we learn immediately that the expedition ends in terrible tragedy when three of the members of the expedition team, including its leader, and five other climbers die that day after a storm with hurricane force winds traps 17 people overnight on the mountain without shelter. Krakauer then leads the reader through the history of climbing Everest as well as some of the extraordinary preparation for a climb of this magnitude. His story moves gracefully to the present expedition and he carefully examines each of the factors--known and speculated--that contributed to the disaster of summit day. The book was fascinating not just for the train-wreck aspect, but also for its account of the enormous physical difficulties involved in summitting Everest. You hear "29,000 feet" and think, yeah that's high, but Krakauer's account of altitude acclimatization brings home just what an extraordinary feat it is to survive at that altitude. He reminds the reader that a person who was picked up in say, Los Angeles, and dropped on the summit of Everest without acclimatization would immediately pass out and then die soon after. I think that Krakauer's account of his own role in the tragedy was insightful and honest and that's part of what made this book so compelling. Krakauer admits at one point in the book that having a journalist on the expedition might have been not only unfair to the other members of his team--they weren't expecting to have their every quirk exposed for posterity when they signed up for the expedition--but might have, on some level, also pressured the expedition leader to have get all of his members to the summit or at least prompted some poor decisions. Krakauer's expedition team was on the mountain during the same season that IMAX filmed its Everest documentary and the IMAX film makes a nice compliment to Krakauer's book--I'd highly recommend both.

I WASN'T LAST!!!!!

....which, considering how hard the Imogene Pass Run is, is just freaking incredible. I came in 1061st of the 1071 people who finished the race. I wasn't even last in my age group! I was second to last : ). And also, I didn't hurt myself in any way that involves blood or broken bones! My time was 6 hours, 26 minutes, and some change. Moses, my wonderful, loving husband stayed with me the whole race although he easily could have smoked me by a couple of hours; I think that maybe he isn't ready for single parenthood. Or possibly, he didn't want to have turn around and start hiking up again to identify my body. When I say that this race is really hard, I mean that it is the second most physically demanding thing I have ever done in my entire life, the first most physically demanding being childbirth. In order to finish the race, participants have to make 7.5 miles in 2.5 hours. I made it with about 10 or 15 minutes to spare and at that point, I was sort of wishing that I hadn't made it because then I could have turned around. At mile 8, I was wishing that I had turned around regardless because I was really feeling the altitude and I nearly left 3 half cups of Gatorade, a handful pretzels, and a few Cliff Shots in a semi-digested heap on the side of the mountain. I think the only thing that really prevented this was that there was nowhere to hide, I would have had to puke in front of strangers and I have a firm rule that I never puke in front of strangers. If I had had a sharp implement handy at mile 9, I would have used to put myself out of my misery. At mile 9 you turn a corner and can see the summit, which is still a mile away. A very long, very, very, steep, rocky mile away. Mile 9 posed a nasty dilemma: I really didn't want to go on. But, the only way off the mountain, besides air vac or search and rescue, was to go one more mile up and seven more down or turn around and go 9 miles back down and then have to find a ride from Ouray back to Telluride (because we were staying in Telluride where the race ends). There was no good way out, so I opted for just going forward. It also helped to have Moses there with me. After a short eternity (it took me as long to do miles 7.5 -- 10 as it did to do miles 0 -- 7.5) we made it over the pass and started working our way down to Telluride. The last 7 miles were, of course, much easier than the first 10, but my legs were really, really cooked. I couldn't even muster enough energy to run over the finish line. By that point I didn't care and we just walked over. Moses, still being super nice, made sure that I got to cross before him (I didn't actually notice this at the time because I urgently needed to pee and I was intensely focused on finding a bathroom, but when we saw the results, he confirmed that he stopped so that I crossed first). I'm going to nominate him for husband of the year.

The weekend in general was fantastic. We had a great time with my brother and his wife, in-laws, and friends. There were about 30 people in our group, 30 incredibly laid back, nice, people who were really fun to hang out with. Nancy, my brother's mother-in-law, did all the meal planning, shopping, and made the lodging arrangements and it was all top-notch (my brother definitely won the in-law lottery). Everybody helped with meal prep and clean-up and there were no catastrophes. In fact, I think that just about everyone from Flagstaff who was in Telluride this weekend ended up at our group's house for dinner after the race. And possibly we might have picked up a few random people who happened to be passing by, saw the keg on the front porch, and thought that "hey! this looks like a good place for dinner." Telluride is beautiful and someday we will go back there when we are not Imogening. After the race on Saturday, we took the free gondola (every town should have a free gondola) over to Mountain Village and had coffee and watched some kids doing some crazy bungee trampoline thing (which was also free); 30 tired people sitting in the square, drinking coffee, and cheering on random kids--and couple of people from our group--whenever they managed a flip on the bungee trampoline thing. It was awesome. I'm not sure that I really want to do the Imogene Pass Run again (I told Moses to not let me do it again) but the rest of the weekend was so nice I might get sucked in. So I should maybe start training.

Imogene Here We Come!

We're leaving for Telluride tomorrow--woohoo! Moses decided that he doesn't like Gatorade so he concocted his own formula of electrolyte replenishing drink. It's composed of lime juice, fresh saved ginger, salt, honey, and water. I had a sip and it nearly killed me on the spot--there is no way on God's green earth that I could ever choke that stuff down on the trail. He's a tough guy though so he can handled that kind of stimulation (the overwhelming flavors--and I do mean overwhelming--where lime and salt but it had a sort of spicy aftertaste).
While we were discussing what to bring, Garion said, "make sure you have your first aid kit, and second aid kit, and third aid kit." The kid know his mom!
Stay tuned for the gory aftermath.

Netflix, Listen to Me

I really shouldn't express my political views in public too much so I'm not going to tell you what we watched via streaming C-Span last night. I'm not going to tell you about how inspired I felt. Nor am I going to tell you that we read The Daily Show's live twitter feed while watching what we were watching and that I now think this one of the best ways to watch what we were watching (you get a nice juxtaposition between inspiration and humor). Finally, I'm not going to tell you that I totally wish that I could be a writer for someone who does the thing we watched last night. (I have always harbored a desire to writer for that kind of thing--I eat that stuff up and I think I'd be great at it. Maybe when I retire).

Instead, I'm going to lobby for a new Netflix rating system. The current system allows you to rate movies you've watched with one to five stars that correspond to opinions from "hated it" to "loved it." These are inadequate. I want an option for "didn't finish it." It could be a special option for tired parents of young children. Here's the problem: I don't watch my movies from Netflix until after the whole night-time routine of child maintenance is completed: this includes feeding, bathing, wrangling into pajamas, nagging until teeth are brushed, reading a bedtime story, filling the water bottle, and completing negotiations worthy of a G8 summit on precisely what level of light will be left on and for how long.

I frequently get movies from Netflix that I am actually interested in watching, we'll use the recent flick "Into the Wild" for demonstration purposes, but which require just a little more mental functioning than say "Legally Blond." So I sit down to watch "Into the Wild" and I find it interesting. And I can admire the skill in dialogue and cinematography and unique story telling that is in this movie. But....I can't keep my eyes open. I decide to go bed. The next evening, the momentum is gone and I can't bring myself to watch the rest of the movie. I enjoyed it, but I know the dude is going to die at the end and that kind of puts the chill on wanting to watch the rest. I then send the movie back to Netflix. And this is where the rating system breaks down.

One and two stars on the ratings system correspond to "hated it" and "didn't like it." Well, these are inaccurate because I actually liked what I saw of the movie.

Stars three, four, and five correspond to "liked it," "really liked it" and "loved it." Again not accurate. The movie's inability to keep me engaged past my bedtime is an indication that I probably didn't "really like it" or "love it," because if I had, I would have stayed up to finish it. I can say that I "liked" what I saw, but because I didn't see the whole movie, I can't really endorse it with a "like." I mean, what if the ending was total crap? I don't want my whole Netflix recommendation algorithm to be skewed by a movie that actually didn't deserve all three of my stars.

Hence, I need the sixth option "didn't finish it." This is the most accurate way for me to rate "Into the Wild" and other such films. Netflix could then use this rating to from me and others (probably other parents of young children) to generate a list movies "most unlikely to be finished." They could make a whole suggestion category for me titled "movies you might love if you can stay awake." I think this idea is brilliant. Netflix, you're welcome, and I'm looking forward to that big fat check you're going to send me for revolutionizing your ratings system.

The 3 in 1 Post

Update 1: Kindergarten

Garion has now completed a full week of kindergarten and Moses and I are ready for vacation. That would be grown-up vacation, not family vacation. I think that Garion has been doing well in school, but he's been a total pill when he gets home. The highlight was a 2 hour screaming fit a week ago Saturday morning. I am not exaggerating, it lasted from 7:30 in the morning until 9:30. The highpoint was Garion lying on floor in upstairs hallway repeatedly screaming at the top of his lungs "I'M DYING!!!! IF YOU DON'T BRING ME WATER RIGHT NOW, I WILL DIE!!!!!!" My windows were open at the time and I was fully expecting the police to come knocking on our door. If fact, I was almost wishing that they would because then maybe the little fiend would quit screaming.
In response, Moses and I have decided to adopt a new parenting tactic inspired by the Warden of the United States Penitentiary in Tucson. While touring the penitentiary a couple of years ago, before it opened, the Warden explained to our group that the prison includes a lot of things like an indoor basketball court, weight room, and game room, because the more privileges inmates have, the more corrections officers can take away when they need to. So our little inmate now has the daily privilege of watching a half hour of something like Mr. Rodgers' Neighborhood or Arthur (we stole that idea from a co-worker of mine whose wife teaches kindergarten-thanks Richters!) if he can get through the day without tantrums or other unruly behavior. He gets one warning before he loses his privilege for the day. So far, this has been working well and I'm looking forward to a little more sanity around here. I still love Monday though.

Update 2: Imogene Training, also known as Preparing for My Doom

I've been training all summer for the Imogene Pass Run by gradually increasing my running mileage during the week and going for a longer hike on the weekends. This weekend, my brother offered to let me tag along on a long hike he and his wife were doing. By long, I mean like 20 miles. He said they'd take slow and not push it. I am an optimistic idiot and so I said okay.

Turns out that when he said "take it slow" there were actually two possible interpretations, neither of which occurred to me at the time I asked to go along on this hike: (1) the 8 year age difference between us is enormous and his definition of "slow" equals my definition of "blistering"; or (2) I was welcome to take it slow and if I took too long he'd call the mountain rescue to go look for my body, or the leftover pieces of it, and send it back to our mom and Moses for a proper burial.

We set out Saturday morning about 8:00 and after about 15 or 20 minutes of hiking we were on a nice rolling trail in gorgeous woods. I have fallen on just about every hike I've taken this summer, so as I was going along I was thinking to myself, "okay, got to watch out for these tree roots." Then, I thought "wow it's really pretty here." Then, SMACK! Oh, tree root. I was flat on my face and had scraped up both knees (remember that injury from last summer? yeah, all scraped up again) and my elbow. It was my most spectacular fall of the season. There was blood. So that was about a mile into the hike, with only 19 or so more to go. (I was covered in dirt after my fall--Lisa said I looked more "seasoned" and Robert said "good to get it out of the way early.")

I let my brother go ahead of me and watched the distance the between us grow. The monologue in my head went something like this: "huff, puff, huff, puff. must keep family in sight. have bad trail finding abilities. do want to get stuck on mountain by self. do not want to look too wussy. dang, can't even see Lisa. she is totally fit. wish I could run on trails without falling. can't even think in complete sentences. trail going to get really hard soon. huff, puff, huff, puff."

I persevere. I keep going despite the fact that my legs are ON FIRE and that I'm clipping along at a pace that I rarely achieve on my own. I finally get to the high spot in the trail (Doyle Saddle) where we're stopping for lunch, and I come up to my brother and his wife, who are waiting for me.
My brother says to me: "you're in pretty good shape, I couldn't shake you at all."
Me: "where you trying to?"
Robert: "yeah" (as in duh.)
Me in my head: well SHIT!, if I'd known that I wouldn't have just killed myself the last 10 freaking miles. I contemplate hitting my brother but instead say nothing in favor of pretending that yeah, of course I can keep up, whatever.

We slug along from this high point to the next high point--another three or four miles and I decide the only way I'm going to make it is to just ignore the pain, I just will pretend like this is how my legs always feel, and just keep going. Probably we're high enough at this point that oxygen deprivation is contributing my ability to delude myself into ignoring pain. We got to Humphrey's saddle just as some clouds and thunder started to roll so it it was now imperative to get down off of the mountain and at least into the tree line. My legs are totally shot by this point and I fess up to Robert and Lisa and tell them that I'll be descending very slowly. They take the car keys and that's the last I see of them until I get back to the trail head. I no longer think that the hardest part about Imogene will be the uphill. I think it's the downhill that's going to kill me--good to find that out now I guess. I managed to get down without falling again (although I did have a couple of nasty slides, but not nasty enough to go all the way down). The rain started in my last half mile. Then the hail started--that was extra special. Robert and Lisa said that the bad weather means I got the full Imogene training experience. I guess that means I'm ready. Imogene in two weeks--woohoo! Bring it on! (That's me trying to muster excitement rather than dread).

Update 3: Life in Flagstaff

I love Flagstaff. I actually love it more than I thought I would when we were still in Tucson and contemplating moving back. Probably this is because it is summer and the weather is fantastic and probably I'll be moaning about snow and cold in a couple of months. But right now, I am completely smitten. I love the small town, the mountains, hiking (even when it hurts), living closer to family (even my brother who tried to ditch me), I love the way people up here dress and are all outdoorsy in their different ways, and I love the laid back attitude. I am as happy as a clam. A high-altitude clam with really sore legs.

First Day of Kindergarten

Yesterday was Garion's first day of kindergarten. We took this photo yesterday morning--a handsome little man if I do say so myself. And not a baby or toddler or even preschooler anymore. Snif. Garion was so excited that he was up, dressed, and had breakfast eaten by 6:45. He did great and seemed to enjoy the day and I managed to not completely fall apart.
Then last night I made the mistake of not placing Garion's backpack downstairs after I emptied it. That meant this morning it was not where he was expecting to find it and the world essentially ended. After a big break down, he said kindergarten was too confusing and he wasn't going anymore. I suspect this is because he did not want to take the bus this morning (which was another disaster that ended with Moses driving him to school). He's supposed to take the bus home this afternoon and I'm supposed to meet him at the bus stop. So yeah, I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that that all works out today and trying not to be sick thinking about my little boy taking the bus when he's afraid to. I guess that Garion is learning resiliency, and I guess that's a good thing. But man is it hard on the mom end of things--I so want to jump in and save the day but I can't because I know if I do he'll never learn to do anything and he'll be one of those kids who never learns to cope. I'm hoping day two was better once he got to school and that next week we can start over again and pretend that this morning never happened.

Election '08

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

This post is offered as a public service and should not be construed as an endorsement of any of the three major presidential candidates.

Book-y Things

I'm happy to report that Garion and I have nearly survived our week together, and things have settled down nicely. We only have one more weekend to get through, but we've got a visit to Grandma and Grandpa's house planned, so I think we'll make it.

You might recall that I am, in theory, participating in the Book a Month challenge. You might also have noticed that I haven't posted on that topic since May. Here's my excuse: it's summer and I want to read what I want to read. Yes, I know, you've heard it before. This is my half-hearted shot at compliance for June and and July. June's theme was "Knowledge." I intended to read In God's Name: An Investigation Into the Murder of Pope John Paul I by David Yallop. This book was recommended to me by my Mom and since it's non-fiction, I kind of thought it fit the June theme nicely. The problem with this book is that it's depressing. It posits, quite convincingly, that Pope John Paul I (the immediate predecessor of Pope John Paul II) was murdered, probably by other higher-ups in the church who didn't like his liberal ideas on birth control, women as clergy, etc., and who were also not happy that JP was wising up to some very unethical money practices in the church. This is depressing because: (1) I think Pope John Paul I was totally my kind of guy, the kind of pope I think the church needs to pry it out of narrow-minded rut; and (2) the leaders of the institution to whom you turn for spiritual guidance are not supposed to be knocking people off just because they disagree with them. Anyway, I didn't finish the book because I was just getting more and more depressed.

July's theme is "Independence." I haven't really chosen a book specifically for July, but right now I'm reading Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson. After getting lost on a K2 expedition, Mortenson is nursed back to health by people in a remote village on the India/Pakistan border. He sees their tremendous need and decides to repay their generosity by building a school. That's as far as I've gotten, but I'm enjoying the book immensely and it's topic is much more enjoyable and uplifting than pope-icide.

So what have I been doing while not living up to my Book a Month obligations? I've been wiling away most of the summer reading Diana Gabaldon's The Outlander, Dragonfly in Amber, and Voyager. These are completely addicting, wildly entertaining, and reasonably well written. Escapism at its best.

Also, lest you think I've forgotten the Short Stack: this week's theme, courtesy of the Washington Post, is "Five Novels So Cold You'll Forget the Heat." Let me see if I can come up with five:

(1) Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson. Here's the Amazon description which nicely sums up the book, and I'm too lazy to write myself:
Set on an island in the straits north of Puget Sound, in Washington, where everyone is either a fisherman or a berry farmer, the story is nominally about a murder trial. But since it's set in the 1950s, lingering memories of World War II, internment camps and racism helps fuel suspicion of a Japanese-American fisherman, a lifelong resident of the islands. It's a great story, but the primary pleasure of the book is Guterson's renderings of the people and the place.
Also, the book takes place in winter and it's really, really cold.

(2) The Brief History of the Dead by Kevin Brockmeier. This book imagines a life after death where after you die, you live in a sort of city of the dead where you stay as long as someone alive still remembers you. The book jumps between this city and Antarctica (which is really, really cold), where we watch the struggles of Laura, who by a weird turn of events becomes the last living human. This is a really good, thought provoking (but not in a way that makes your head hurt) book.

(3) The Mitten by Jan Brett. I have read this book probably a thousand times in the last five years. Because I love it? No. Because I am some body's mom and I cannot get his literature preferences out of my head. This book stars Nicky who goes out to play on a snowy day, loses his mitten (despite a warning from his Babba not to--typical boy), and unlikely shenanigans ensue.

(4) The Farseer Trilogy by Robin Hobb. This is a long, epic series of fantasy novels that, along with two other related trilogies, totally absorbed my reading life toward the end of 2005 and early 2006. A few years ago, I wouldn't cop to reading fantasy novels to anyone outside my immediate family. But since I've already confessed to you that I've read this book, you might as well have the whole story. Anyway, this trilogy makes the list because, although the books span several years and seasons, I think the author evokes winter and all its frigid harshness particularly well.

(5) Cryptonmicon by Neal Stephen. Just kidding! I associate this book most with sweltering jungles so it definitely doesn't qualify for the list. I just can't come up with a fifth book right now.

Your turn, I'm ready--hit me with your icy blasts of cold, chilly reads for the summer heat!

I Love Monday

Moses is gone for a work meeting for a little while (in Hawaii of all places) so Garion and I are on our own. Just the two of us. Mom and son bonding time. We had a very busy weekend that included breakfast at Brandy's; a trip to the swimming hole at Beaver Creek (where Garion put up a good fight about leaving when it started to rain: "but Mom!, there are only 7 seven drops on my window, see we didn't have to leave"); two viewings of the Incredibles (Friday night and Saturday night); laundry; dishes; grocery shopping; seeing WALL-E; a game of Chinese checkers; a long walk around the neighborhood; one prolonged argument about why Garion could not have a new peanut butter an jelly sandwich just because he accidentally tore the top slice of bread while making the sandwich; and smaller "discussions" about how Garion is capable of cleaning his room by himself (b/c he's capable of making the mess by himself), how Garion cannot wear shorts to church, how he cannot have two desserts, and how, no, he cannot sleep in my bed because Dad is gone and now in there is room. To top it all off, we engaged in a practice know in our house as "torture by haircut" where Garion screams and cries as if I were using pliers to slowly remove his fingernails while, in actuality, I use clippers to cut his hair and try to make him look like a human being and not an English sheep dog. It was such an ordeal that I stooped to very-very-bad-mommy tactics and offered dinner at McDonald's and a partial viewing of Superman if he would just hold still and let me finish. (Notice the absurd amount of screen time Garion has had in the last three days, I am such a wuss when I'm on my own). I found myself wondering again and again this weekend how one single little person could embody both the love of my life, the person I would throw myself in front of train for without a split-second's hesitation, and also the person who, if I hear him say, "Mom" one more time will maybe make me stick that kitchen knife in my eye so that I will hopefully be distracted enough not to strangle him. I so want to be that calm, in control mom who loves every second she spends with her kid, but I was so, so glad today for Monday morning and daycare, and the prospect of 8 quiet hours in my house to, of all things, work on prisoner cases.

Breaking News

Garion lost his first tooth tonight. He delivered the news to us, while getting ready for bed, with Walter Cronkite like gravitas. He said "My tooth is out," in sort of the same tone that that mission control guy used when he said "the Eagle has landed." Anyway it was all very exciting and I'm feeling a little befuddled because I remember how much sleep I had to loose when that tooth came in and now the stupid thing has gone and fallen out. And there's a big adult tooth in its place and my baby isn't a baby anymore. Sniff.

I still have not solved the problem of "what does the tooth-fairy do with all those baby teeth?" I think I'll just hang on to them for awhile until an answer presents itself. Also, I have to hurry up and figure out what the tooth-fairy is paying these days. I used to get a quarter. Seems a little chintzy for 2008, but the kid is only 5 and I don't want him to start putting on airs, what with all the riches he'll have. Maybe fifty cents?

Moses Runs

A few weeks ago, Moses started a blog to chronicle his training for Imogene. Yes, he's training! I think he was afraid of the 8 hours of evil looks he was bound to get on the way home from Imogene if he didn't train and was still alive at the end of the race. Anyway, Moses has been taking my Garmin with him for his training hikes and is documenting his training with lots of graphs and statistical analysis. It is very scientific, yet charming and entertaining. Just like Moses.

Swimming Lessons

To the left is a really bad picture of Garion's first day of swimming lessons for this summer. Garion is the barely visible blob just to the left of the ladder. This is Garion's third summer of swimming lessons. Up until now, he has hated every second of them. I didn't even tell him he was starting swimming lessons this summer until about 4:00 yesterday afternoon (the lesson started at 5:00). Surprisingly, this tactic seemed to work. Garion gave me five minutes of the usual "I REALLY don't want to take swimming lessons." I have him a thirty second answer that boiled down to: tough pattooties, you're going and we're not discussing it anymore. He then asked me how many swimming lessons he had to take and I told him when he could show me that he could swim across the pool by himself, without touching the bottom and without a life jacket, he would be done. He seemed to be heartened by the fact that he might not have to take swimming lessons every summer for the rest of his life, and pretty much sucked it up. I was very proud. Then, miracle of all miracles, I think he actually had fun during his lesson. Whew!

We arrived at the pool about 15 minutes early because I have still not adjusted to the fact that Flagstaff is small and you can get all the way to the other side of town in 10 minutes. While we were sitting there, I told Garion that this was the pool where I learned to swim.

"Really?" he asked. And then eying a group of teachers in the corner, "Which teacher did you have?"
Me: "Well, it was a long time ago, so I didn't have any of those teachers."
Garion: "Because none of them were even alive yet?"

I started to say, "no." Then I stopped and looked again at the group of teachers. They all appeared to be maybe between 18 and 20 years old--college aged. I think I was 12 the last summer I took swimming lessons.....about 20 years ago.

Me in the agony of the realization of the passage of time: "Well.....yes, I guess they probably were not alive yet."
Garion, very helpfully: "Or they were babies."

Dear God, Please Save Me from Myself, Thank-you

For the better part of the last year, I have been contemplating adopting a dog. I have asked everyone I know for advice and we even had a doggie-prospect come visit us for a day. The doggie-prospect didn't like us too terribly much and ate the wooden blinds off of our front door to demonstrate his feelings. He went back to his foster-family. Since the day of the ill-fated visit, I have been unable to commit to the adoption of a canine friend. I would very much like a running/walking companion and I like the idea of having another living being in the house with me during the day. I'd also like Garion to have the experience of caring for living things and the life lessons that go along with that care (although I realize of course that any pet will ultimately be my pet in terms of daily life maintenance and cleaning which is what makes today even more unbelievable--what was I thinking?). To be honest, I could live without the running companion bit and be very happy with a cat. But Moses and Garion are allergic, so cats are out. What I can't decide is whether I would really like to have a dog or if I just like the idea of having a dog.

Anyway, after the doggie-prospect went home, while trying to decide whether I have what it takes to be a dog-owner, I asked Garion if he really wanted a dog. He said yes. I then asked him, if he could have any pet in the world, what would it be? He lit up like a Christmas tree, and with a look of complete rapture said, "a mouse!" Dang. That is not at all what I had in mind. I said, "what about a hamster or a gerbil?" "No." A mouse, and no other creature great or small could it be. Sigh.

So a month later and after lots of big puppy eyes from Garion (maybe I really don't need a dog?), and a few chores later to earn the money for their purchase, this is what came to live with us today:

Ugh. Do you see its little mousy tail hanging there and taunting me with its not-at-all-charming, rat-like hairlessness? They would be so much more tolerable if they could have a nice little furry nub, like a bunny. This mouse also has a twin that's a bit camera shy. A little reading on the internet informed us that mice are social creatures and prefer not to live by themselves. Check. We went the pet store and asked for two male mice. The lady asked us if they were feeder mice or pets. Pets. She then tells us, "they are a little territorial so just keep an eye on them or they'll....basically eat each other." But they don't like to live alone. Lovely. And exactly what am I supposed to do if I notice them eating each other, I wonder? Because I really do not have a contingency plan for mouse-on-mouse cannibalism. I just was not born equipped with that skill-set. "What about female mice?" we asked. "A little better," she said. Hmmm. Not really confidence inspiring but, okay, give us two females.

The original plan was to name the mice Stuart and Ralph after Garion's favorite mice in literature. I have re-christened them Ralphina and Stuartette, but Garion is skeptical, so they might be re-named. Garion is, of course, elated to have his new roommates and I on the other hand am not sure I will be able to sleep tonight. They scurry around with their hairless little miniature rat tails, and climb the walls of their cage, and if they get out I think I will probably have a heart attack and then have to move out, housing market be damned. Maybe I will have to adopt a dog just to have something warm and fuzzy and not-willies-inducing, with a furry tail for crying out loud, to take my mind off the mice. That live in my house. That I am actually consciously feeding. (On the way home from the pet shop, Moses said I could always get a rat terrier--ha.ha.)