"No need to hurry. No need to sparkle."

Pikes Peak International Hill Climb

2012-01-02T17:13:00.000-05:00

We first started thinking about racing Pikes Peak when one of Seth's race buddies, a crazy fast skinny character from New Hampshire was telling us all about it at the Sanblast Rally. What he described was a completely chaotic free-for-all with people racing around like mad trying to get themselves up the mountain in under 10 minutes. I could see that Seth's soul needed to participate in such an event, and we needed a honeymoon, so we stuck the two together and added a bit here and there until we had ourselves a good old-fashioned American Road Trip.

Barre - Cincinnati - Denver - Pikes Peak - Denver - Jackson Hole - Denver - Cincinnati - Barre

If we were true adventurers we would have had fewer duplicates and more stops, but we're married now and we have a dog to consider.

We dropped Thunder in Cincinnati and crawled at a snail's pace across the flat, sprawling middle farmland of this great continent. The giant red-orange sun set slowly to our right as we tried to haul an oversized trailer across the country with an undersized 4Runner.

When I awoke we were blazing through eastern Colorado, the engine humming and the scenery ever-improving. We were tired of driving and yet it seemed like all there was. I didn't actually think we were ever going to arrive anywhere and was pleasantly amused when we did.

We made ourselves at home in Dad and Cindy's Denver house. After parking the trailer as best we could and exclaiming at the wonderful honeymoon gift basket Cindy left us, we promptly fell asleep and stayed so for the rest of the day.

Seth only had a day to get himself and his bike ready for the event to begin. He worked all day in the shade of the garage, occasionally venturing out into the hot Colorado sun as he discovered missing necessities. As the sun set Seth's gear was all packed together in the 4Runner ready for Tuesday's sprint down to Colorado Springs. His bike was in pieces, scattered about the garage - along the driveway - drying - curing - soaking - generally trying its darndest to thwart his efforts.

Tuesday dawned early. I was trying to keep an East Coast schedule for work and Seth had some putting-together to do. The plan was to jump down to Co. Springs around noon in time for Registration, Tech Inspection and Seth's Rookie Orientation. The next day was practice at 3:30am so we needed to hit the road back to Denver as soon as possible if we had any hopes of sleep that night.

Well at Registration of course we were told that there was a special dinner that night just for Riders and their crew. Me being me and Seth being Seth we couldn't turn down free food for motorcycle racers, so our sleep was delayed while we ate barbeque and drank beer, our skin burning up under the setting summer sun.

When we did roll back into Cindy's garage Seth informed me, much to my dismay, that he still had some work to do on his bike. Around 11 we crashed into bed, the alarm seth for 1:30am.

At 1:30 we were up, excited for the first day of practice. I made sandwiches and packed water bottles while Seth loaded his bike back into the trailer and made sure he had everything he needed. I drove us down to The Springs but made Seth drive up to Pikes as I wasn't sure what would happen when we were there. The motorcycles practiced the bottom section that day and I found, to my delight that there was wireless internet available from race headquarters!

Seth got his bike out and set it up in front of the trailer, hung some lanterns and put his leathers on. When he was ready to go he sat in the trailer looking out like a king as the slowly lightening sky made his personal pit area visible.

Seth attended a riders meeting and I started working, confident that with the strong internet signal I'd get lots of work done while he played on the mountain.

The sun rose and my little make-shift office in the back of the 4Runner heated up. Soon I was fast asleep, oblivious to Seth's many returns back to his pits. Practice ended at 9 so that regular vacationers could access Pikes Peak without too much inconvenience. On our way down the mountain road Seth recounted his day 1 experience (and threatened to revoke my title of chief mechanic if I fell asleep during practice the next day). He felt quite the rookie after passing someone then promptly crashing in front of him as he misjudged a turn. "You crashed?"
"Oh yeah, a few times."

During practice there's no time to have people going up one at a time, so they start in big groups being waved off in 30 second intervals, quickly overtaking - falling back - crashing - and restarting. This is what our New Hampshire friend was talking about, Seth told me, when he talked about Pikes Peak.

Seth was all smiles. He felt great, he'd gotten to tear around on his motorcycle all morning and we'd been invited back to the campground where a bunch of racers were staying. At the campground we met all sorts of folks. Jimmy, who had invited us, is from Vermont and we'd met him at some Hill Climbs and Rallies. There was a little wirey fellow who apparently held records in almost all the different motorcycle classes. Seth was in awe. There was another guy making breakfast burritos in his camper and handing them out to anyone who wanted one. The stories of crashes, finish line crossings, mid-race catastrophes and starting line antics were passed around and kept us laughing. Someone cracked open a beer. "A little early for that isn't it?" As it slowly dawned on us that it was only 9:45am, Seth looked at me with wide-eyed wonder. His happiness was complete.

The day was spent lounging in the shade of the cottonwood trees, white puffs floating through the filtered sunlight of the peaceful campground. I suspect that most people were napping. I was trying to get some work done while Seth and Jimmy talked and reminisced about all their racing ventures. The afternoon proceeded leisurely and we decided we should head back to Denver and get a good night of sleep.

Back at Dad and Cindy's I rustled up some dinner and Seth tinkered away at his bike. After dinner I tried to put in my last few hours of work for the day and Seth went back out to the garage. Despite our best intentions we didn't manage to crawl into bed until around 10, the alarm set for 1:30am.

At 1:45 we were up-and-at-em, Seth in a panic because we were late. I slapped some sandwiches together, threw the water bottles in the 4Runner and hopped in as Seth pulled out of the driveway. We were flying towards Colorado Springs, the BBC lulling while the passing towns slept in the darkness.

Our pit the second day was a bit tighter. We had been warned and even the big Ducati team was working out of a Sprinter instead of their team big rig. Yesterday's trailers were replaced with pickup trucks and bike haulers as we all tried to pack into a tiny bit of road half-way up the mountain. Right at treeline, we got to watch the sun rise as everyone raced around warming up their engines and figuring out last minute changes before the riders' meeting.

As soon as it was light enough practice began with a roar. I watched from the sidelines and was soon engulfed by the fumes of the race gas, which I've come to learn makes me nauseous. I tottered back to the 4Runner to try to get some work done. The morning was action packed; it seemed I had barely seen Seth off for another lap and he'd be back shouting for tools and jets, gas and water. He'd be off again in a flash.

They stopped practicing a little before 9 that day in an attempt to get everyone packed up and ready to head back down by 9, so that they wouldn't be late. Apparently the cars practicing the stage beneath us had a different idea, and kept practicing til 9:30. This of course angered most of the motorcycle racers who were sitting in a traffic jam ready to head down the mountain, and could have gotten several more laps of practice in. Since my chief mechanic duties had taken up so much time I had Seth drop me at an internet-coffee shop (so I could get some work done) in Manitou Springs while he went off to lounge at the campground with his fellow racers.

It would be silly to think that we managed to get in bed before 11 that night, it's just not our way. The alarm was stuck on 1:30am and at 1:30 we were up, excited for the last day of practice. It was Friday, and the motorcycles were scheduled to practice the top section of the mountain that morning, with our pits at "Devil's Playground." I made some sandwiches and grabbed the water bottles out of the freezer. I even managed a to-go cup of coffee for the road, and grabbed Dad's winter hat and coat. I drove us back down to Pikes Peak while Seth got in some much needed shuteye. As we climbed the toll road in the darkness, it occurred to me what a great idea oscillating headlamps are. When we reached our wind-swept oxygen deprived pit area we parked, shivered and set to work re-jetting Seth's bike. Once the bike was warming up without much danger of stalling in the thin frigid air, I sat back and watched the sun rise over the twinkling lights of Colorado Springs. It really was a beautiful morning.

On Saturday Seth had the day off. Our pit crew and racer credentials gave us free access to the toll road, and most people take advantage of the off day to ride up and down the mountain, getting the hang of doing the entire thing together instead of sections of it over and over. When we got up at 7 it felt like we must have slept til mid-afternoon. The rangers at the bottom of the road warned Seth that if he raced today, he wouldn't be racing tomorrow. I said of course there were too many people on the road to go fast today, Seth raised an eyebrow at me and they remarked on the general sensibility of women over men. We rode up and down only once and decided that we needed to go back to Denver and actually go to bed early. After all, Seth was racing the next day.

We had been told that we had to be in the pits early on Race Day. They opened the gates to racers at 4 and to the general public at 6. The race started at 9. We couldn't for the life of us figure out why we had to get there so early, but we set the alarm for 2:30 and figured we'd leave by three to get there at 4, just like they said to do. Exhaustion, it seems had finally caught up with us and we didn't leave Denver til 4. We were both panicked this time, the thought of being late on race day was too much to handle. We made great time down to Colorado Springs and as we got off the exit we thought we might not be too late after-all. Then we discovered why we were supposed to be there at 4.

There was a line of cars backed up all the way to the exit ramp from 25, fans and spectators waiting to be allowed passed the gate. Seth said that we were allowed to pass them because we were racers. We had a pit pass. We had to pass them or we'd never get into the pits. We had a chinese fire-drill and he drove the rest of the way, passing cars and pickups full of people. We needed to turn left onto the mountain road, and Seth rolled down his window to ask the people who were at the front of the turning lane "I'm racing, do you mind if I go ahead?" "No WAY" they shouted, waving him on, "Good luck dude!" As we drove up the left lane of the road, the scene became more and more festive. These people had obviously been camped out in their cars since the night before. Some were sipping beers and cooking breakfast sausages, tailgating at 5 in the morning. We weren't sure if they were starting early or if they were still going strong from the night before. As people saw the motorcycle on the back of the 4Runner and realized that a real live racer was in their midst, they cheered and toasted and shouted accolades after us. We finally got up to the pit area and, due to the skinniness of our 4Runner were assigned a spot between two saplings. We could barely open the doors! Seth got all his stuff ready and we went back to sleep in the 4Runner until shouting and the revving of engines woke us up around 7:30.

The motorcycles didn't race until the very end of the day, and Seth's class was towards the very end of the motorcycles, so we had a long wait ahead of us. We went up with Jimmy to watch the first cars take off, then came back to the pits and tried to figure out what to do all day. We listened to the race radio as Monster Tajima flew up the mountain in his record-breaking-under-ten-mintue run of 09:51.278. Cheers went out around the pits and up the mountain as everyone heard the news. Every once in a while I'd wander up to the start line to get cell phone reception and a barrage of texts from Dad and Cindy, who were driving down from the mountains and trying to get there in time to see Seth race. I'd text back news of the latest delay and let them know they still had a chance.

Finally it was time for the motorcycles to head towards the starting line. We borrowed an umbrella from Jimmy and I accompanied him, shielding him from the intense Western sun. We were up there for an hour or so in the thick of things and I bummed a bottle of water for Seth off of the kind folks at Ducati.

The delays kept coming, a rider would go down and they'd send up the wrecker and the ambulance. Mostly things turned out ok and the race eventually kept going. Once Seth was at the starting line I ran ahead into the spectator zone to find the place where I could see him for as long as possible.

They flagged his group, and he was off, within seconds I couldn't see him anymore and all I had to do was wait. I got a text from Dad and Cindy that they were headed up the cog railway and would hopefully see Seth at the top. The next set of racers were off, and before I knew it the ambulance was off too.

My stomach turned upside down, my mouth hung open, my brain stopped functioning, my knees nearly gave out. I gasped for breath as I realized I had forgotten to continue breathing. It had only been four or five minutes since Seth's group had started. I texted Dad to say that if they saw any sign of #102 they needed to tell me immediately because there was an ambulance on the course. I lingered around race headquarters with a slowly growing group of wives, mechanics and interested parties trying to get any news we could about the ambulance. They refused to give us any information until they knew what was happening and we all waited with growing dread. An eternity passed and they began speaking in low tones to a woman, who immediately broke out into sobs and was whisked away. We heard them say that they were calling for a helicopter which was going to land down at Crystal Reservoir and the ambulance wasn't stopping on the way through, but they were going to get her to the hospital as fast as they could.

Slowly my blood began to recirculate and although I was horrified for that poor woman relief slowly flowed through my body. We got the word that the race was over and the cars started their parade down the mountain. On the way down, spectators come out of their hideways and line the road, hoping for one last glimpse at the racers. They all extend their arms for congratulatory high fives and so they proceed down the mountain, 12 miles of high-fiving their fans. When Seth got down he said Dad and Cindy surprised him at the top with a much appreciated bottle of water. We looked at the results and noted that Seth had finished 15th out of 17 racers in his class. (He laughed and said he thought he would have been dead last, since he crashed twice on the way up.)

We packed up and headed down the mountain. As we got in range of a cell phone signal my phone chirped as a litany of texts from Dad reached me..."Seths at the top" "He said the am ulance is pro bably for him because hec rashedb ut hes ok" "we're on our way down" "will be 30 to 45 mintues" "ant to have dinner?"

We met Dad and Cindy for a celebratory bite to eat down in Manitou Springs. We strolled around town for a bit and got ice cream cones and then headed back to Denver one last time, exhausted and ready - finally - for a good night's sleep.

'Here is a calm so deep, grasses cease waving."

2011-12-12T22:00:00.000-05:00

My eyes opened and there was a beautiful creamy dress, hanging. The most beautiful dress that ever existed, glowing, waiting for the moment I would put it on and walk downstairs to greet my handsome groom. The most handsome groom a girl could ever imagine, waiting for me so that we could become husband and wife.

Footsteps, Mom was bringing coffee to her principessa, still bleary eyed on her wedding morning.

Wind howled and the sky darkened. I pulled the covers closer, took a sip of the steaming coffee and was thankful that I had a wool cloak to wear on my stormy spring wedding day.

The doorbell clamoured, insisting we take notice of the beautiful bridesmaids waiting to come in out of the cold.

The loveliest of lovely bridesmaids who ever existed were coming to spend the day with me. They made sure I had everything I needed, which was only their love.

Love, a champagne toast.

Love, laughter from downstairs as mom curled my hair.

Love, squeals of delight as the flowers arrive.

Love, anticipating my every desire.

Love, the loveliest of lovely bridesmaids.

A flurry of action: curls, dresses, shoes, a touch of makeup; the groom is arriving, he is here!

I descend into a room full of only one person. My most handsome of grooms is smiling at me, his eyes twinkling.

After so much anticipation we're finally off! Dad is driving us slowly towards our destination.

Arrival!

Pictures!

Waiting!

Finishing Touches!

Hiding!

Music!

And now, it is time.

A multitude of people are smiling at me and for the first time I understand why one might be nervous at such a moment. I cling more tightly to Dad's arm as he walks me toward my sweet smiling groom.

And then there is only Seth. Sunny sparkling eyes, sharp handsome suit and that smile, beaming back at me. He actually wants to love me forever and the thought makes my soul ache with love. The love-ache overflows and my eyes fill with burning, blurry happiness.

But then it's time to go. We are man and wife and we have a spectacular party to throw.

On Wedding Planning, Part 3 :: The To-Do Lists

2011-10-08T15:48:00.001-04:00

When I left Vermont two weeks before the wedding the skies were blue and clear, the sun was shining intensely through the still frigid air. The grass was still brown. The trees were still bare. There were no tulips or daffodils shooting through the barely snow-free earth.

It wasn't until I blew through Columbus that I started noticing green grass and leafy underbrush. By the time Cincinnati materialized before my eyes not only was there green grass and leafy underbrush, but hints of green on the trees as well! The pear trees and magnolia blossoms were peaking out of tiny leafy surrounds. The air was fresh with new life. There were tulips and daffodils and pansies and it was WARM. I knew that by the time the wedding rolled around Spring would be developing nicely - exactly as I had envisioned it.

I had two weeks to get everything prepared, and I thought that seemed completely reasonable. I planned on getting everything done the first week, so that the week before the wedding I could just relax and do whatever I wanted. (Get a manicure, go out to dinner with friends, practice my hairdo, get a massage, do absolutely nothing...I had very high ambitions.)

I called Mom when I was a block or two away from her house and she met me in the parking lot. She helped me carry all my stuff in, gave me a glass of wine and started snapping pictures to document the bride's arrival on facebook. She had it all planned out. (I could tell she'd been waiting for this moment all day.) We ate a quick dinner and headed off for our first task: a dress fitting with Lana.

While I was driving home I had called Lana to confirm our appointment for that night. She said that she had to tell me something about the dress. This wasn't going to be an almost final fitting as we had expected, but she had a new practice dress for me to try on. She hadn't been comfortable with the plan we came up with in New York. She kept trying and trying but it just didn't look right, so she'd been researching 30s dresses and styles, and she didn't think our plan really went with the look we were going for at all, so she had a new practice dress to make sure I liked the new changes. (She had shown it to Anne, who loved it and said of course I was going to like it, but she just needed to make sure.) Based on the way she described it, I was sure it was going to be even prettier than I had imagined before, and I was so excited to see it (and I felt terrible for causing such angst and stress).
She said she was just about to cut my veil before I called. "Oh! I had been thinking about that, and I'm not sure if I want it finger-tip-length anymore," I said, "you never see short veils in the 30s, they were always long, so I wasn't sure if that would go with the 30s thing either." She laughed. "Joanna, you don't know how close I was to cutting that veil when you called." She had the scissors in her hands and put them down to get a different pair when the phone rang. We decided that Grandma was looking out for me. (Thank you Grandma!)

When Mom and I got to Lana's she had the dress pinned together on a mannequin so we could see exactly how it would look. It was so beautiful! Mom and I oohed and aahed over it, and then I tried on a practice dress. We put the veil on to decide whether to cut it or not. We had originally been planning to cut the veil finger-tip-length because the back of the dress was so pretty and we didn't want to cover it up. But since the veil netting was so thin, we didn't think it would make that much of a difference and decided to wait and see. We could always cut it later, but we couldn't un-cut it.

When we got home Mom's organizational skills kicked in, and we started a master to-do list. The plan was to write down everything we needed to accomplish, and then divvy it up every day into smaller to do lists. We wrote down EVERYTHING. We needed to make the chuppah. In order to do that I needed to pickup the supplies we had left at Seth's Dad's house, we needed to buy flower pots, we needed to fill those flower pots with concrete, we needed to figure out how to attach the lace to the poles, we needed to buy flowers to cover the concrete in the flower pots, we needed to put it all together to make sure it worked, and we needed to figure out how to get it to the Highland Country Club. We put every step on the to do list.

We also needed to get the seating chart printed up. I had to talk to Paul about where to have it printed, I had to finish the vintage-train-station-departure-board image so that it could be printed, then we had to take it to be printed. Then we had to pick it up.
All on the to do list.

Half way between Vermont and Kentucky I had discovered that I forgot the amazing vintage travel posters that we had printed to put at each table. I decided it didn't need to be professionally done, they were only 8x10 after all, and Paul could help me print and cut them. (Since he's a professional.) I also had to figure out how to put them on the table and get some kind of frame or stand to put them in.
All on the to do list.

My dress for the rehearsal dinner didn't fit quite right, and Mom was going to fix it for me. To do list.
I needed to get shoes for the wedding. To do list.
We had scheduled our next dress fitting with Lana. To do list.
Even the fun things I planned to do AFTER the to do lists were finished went on the to do lists. We may have gone a little overboard.

Some other items from our master list:
"Rings - going to who when - J"
"Find easels at work - J"
"Take Seth's clothes to Mitchell's - J" (for dry cleaning)
"Brooks Brothers - J" (Seth needed a new shirt, Paul's suit needed to be picked up, the ring bearer needed pants.)
"Buy wrapping paper and gift bags - J"
"Wrap presents - J"
"Print Clear Labels - J"
"Make place cards - J & C"
"Buy brown green & blue jute - C" (these were going to be attached to the luggage-tag style place cards, letting the servers know whether someone should receive prime rib (brown), vegetarian (green), or a kids meal (blue).)
"Fish or Chicken - FISH!" (what to have at the rehearsal dinner?)
"Look at ceremony"
"Email Bill about Ceremony - J"
"Tell M & D to sit in front - J" (Melissa and Dustin, parent's of the ring bearer and flower girl)
"Greeter at HCC - assign. Tommy? Ben & Felicity? - J"
"Get Sarah a gift. - J" (Sarah was the flower girl)
"One Gold Necklace - C"
"wedding bracelet - J"
"buy shoes - C"
"Jo's shoes"
"Elizabeth's poem- J" (I believe this meant that I needed to find a nice book for Elizabeth to hold while she was reading, so that she didn't just have a piece of paper in her hand.)
"Intentions?"
"Talk to Paul about sound"
"Programs - elephant - person assigned"
"print programs"
"change playlist" (I had noticed some glaring errors on my trip home.)
"umbrellas?"

Every morning Mom and I sat in bed drinking coffee and making a new to do list for the day. (Actually, to be more realistic, I lay in bed falling asleep with a mug of coffee balanced on my chest while Mom sat in bed drinking coffee and making to do lists - and asking me if I was falling asleep and spilling my coffee.) Every night we sat in bed with tea or popcorn and checked off the things that we had accomplished. The things we hadn't accomplished rolled over onto the next day's list. Mom's list was always longer than mine and was always finished by the end of the day, while all my tasks seemed to roll over for an eternity. My to do list was growing instead of shrinking.

Items from Monday's list (April 4):
Carol
get shoes
buy flower pots
get stain, stain chuppah caps
laminate music
Paul - talk to kinkos
buy hair products
umbrellas?
make place cards
find mirrors (mom wanted to have mirrors set up for everyone to use while they were getting ready on the day of the wedding)
find jewelry
haircuts for Jo and Paul
Joanna
buy wrapping paper and gift bags
make reception schedule
buy Sarah's gift
ask Paul about ideas (?)
start to sketch program
brooks brothers
wrap presents

The week went by agonizingly slow, and surprisingly fast at the same time. Before I knew it Saturday had arrived, the point at which I thought I'd have everything accomplished, and the to do list wasn't even close to being finished. (Saturday's list includes "Brooks Brothers," "Make Chuppah and fix it," and "gift bags." Two of these things are obviously rolled over all the way from Monday...) It seemed like Mom and I went shopping every single day. (Mom also still had things on her to do list. She still needed shoes and a necklace. So there.) Even though I clearly remember reaching the half way point and the to do list not being finished, I still managed to have a relaxing second week. I think instead of rolling over items on my list, Mom rolled them over onto her list and took care of everything. (Thanks Mom!)

We got the chuppah up on Sunday, but something wasn't quite right about the way the fabric was hanging. We needed much more weight in the bases and had to add more and more concrete. Mom did that the next morning while I was at work.
Items on Monday's to do list (April 11)
Carol
Fix chuppah pots
pick up poster
think about blue dress
practice hair
grocery
fix mirrors
email musicians
email Julie
necklace
Joanna
wrap presents
sketch program
finish intentions
pick up sushi
write reception schedule for Jake
bracelet
change playlist
glass for Seth to break
bag for glass for Seth to break
place card redos

(notice any repeats?)

Kelly and Julie came over in order to accomplish "practice hair" on Mom's list and I picked up sushi on the way home for dinner. For some reason, even though we had great fun, the hair-doing was a total flop and no one's hair would hold curl. Mom got stressed. What if it didn't hold on Saturday either?! Why wasn't it curling! It was a crazy thing to behold, Mom had a curling iron in Kelly's hair, and when it came out the hair fell back down again as though nothing had happened. Totally mind boggling! Julie and Kelly graciously decided that Mom should not have to stress about their hair on the day of her daughter's wedding and ended up having it done elsewhere. Now all she had to worry about was my hair, which also required curls.

On Tuesday I was scheduled to go out for a celebratory dinner with Julie and Kelly. I must have been anxious to get everything off of my plate and relax at diner, because on the way home I stopped and bought flowers for the chuppah pots (something we had put off because it rained all weekend and I was lazy). Then I went to the Village (local thrift store) and bought a glass for Seth to stomp on. I had forgotten whether or not they accepted credit cards and it didn't occur to me that they might not til I got there. I counted up all the change in my car and it amounted to about $2.00. I went in, hopeful that I could find something for $2.00 that Seth could break. I perused their dinnerware section and found lots of possibilities. I was trying to figure out which glass had the thinnest walls and would be the easiest to break. I finally decided on one, and it was only 60c! It felt like a great accomplishment after buying buying buying all week long. When I got home I put the flowers out back, and put the chuppah back together. It was perfect! I placed the glass on the bag that mom had made for it on the kitchen table. I left notes all over the house showing mom the things I had accomplished that day. I left the chuppah standing perfectly in the living room, with a note taped to one of the poles mentioning that it was perfect. I left a note taped to the window to LOOK! at the flowers on the table outside. I wrapped the presents. I sketched out a tiny tiny program (picture 1/4 of a normally sized piece of paper folded in half with tiny writing on it) and left it on the table by the glass.

(Later I discovered that the glass said it was made in West Germany, and I wondered for a second whether it would be terrible to destroy such a piece of history.)

It was SO much fun relaxing for an evening with Kelly and Julie over dinner! It was just the right way to start unwinding from the dreaded to do lists. After dinner we decided that even though it was a partying kind of evening, we were all perfectly content to go back to Mom's house and talk (in peace and quiet, which you don't get in public places). We sat under the recently perfected chuppah and polished off a bottle of wine that we had started the day before. We called Anne, our missing comrade, because we needed clarification on a detail of our family oriented discussion and we usually assume Anne knows all the family details that we don't. We ensured that none of us would sleep that night by telling each other about scary things we had heard about or experienced. It was great fun.

Wednesday, back to reality. Wednesday's to do list is a little more bearable since I got so much done on Tuesday.
Carol
Flowers front. (Mom wanted to put nice flowers in pots out front in so that her house looked great on Saturday.)
plant flowers (Now that the chuppah is weighted properly we can plant the flowers in its pots.)
finish blue dress
mirror out of basement
music in binder
fix finger cymbals
clean house
hard head hairspray
mow grass
pickup dress from cleaners
Joanna
Print posters
print programs
Ask Ben & Felicity
Finish intentions
place card labels

We got everything done Wednesday and went over to Lana's for my final dress fitting. Anne was there and had baked a practice cake. After we declared the dress perfect, we had perfect cake to top it all off! Anne gave me the rest of it to take home. In a totally uncharacteristic moment I decided it wasn't a good idea to consume an entire cake 2 days before my wedding, so on Thursday I brought it into work. Dad and I had cake for lunch, and then I shared the rest with co-workers (who said it was the best carrot cake ever, Anne!) Thursday evening Anne, Kelly, Julie, Mom and I all went out and got manicures. Seth was flying in that evening, and I was going to pick him up from the airport! I was excited to finally see him again!

When we got out of the nail salon I had a message from Seth that he was stuck in Detroit and wasn't going to be in until Friday morning. Thursday night I did not sleep. Seth called me around 6 to say that his flight was on time and he should arrive around 8:30. I picked him up and we went over to Lana's. Lana had graciously agreed to alter Seth's grandfather's suit coat for him, as it was slightly to wide for him. It is his favorite, and he wanted to wear it to the rehearsal dinner. She had it all cut out apart and just needed him to try it on and sew it back up. Then I brought Seth to his Dad's house where Hannah and Raffi were already waiting for us.

Mom and I had all the place cards wrapped together in tables, stacked in the order that they should be placed out so that people were sitting next to the proper people. My last task from the to do list was to check these. Hannah helped me and we got it done in no time. The middle of the day passed very calmly. It was delightful. Then we all realized we had errands to run, and set about running them. I wanted to get champagne for Saturday, needed to pick up my dress and Seth's jacket from Lana, and Hannah needed a few things too. Seth and Raffi either had something to do or concocted something to do. We all set off, Hannah and I together and Raffi and Seth together. The afternoon was a whirlwind of rain, errands, and Cincinnati traffic. When I finally got back to Mom's to get ready for the rehearsal dinner she was waiting, exasperated that she wouldn't have enough time to do my hair.

At this point my attitude was "if it's not done, it ain't gettin' done." I knew that anything I had forgotten to do probably wouldn't matter even remotely in the scheme of things, so Mom and I set about getting ready for the partying to start!

Laundry the Eco-Old-Fashioned Way - Joanna Style

2011-06-16T16:48:00.000-04:00

I've been on this kick lately of not using the dryer. For anything. At all. Under any circumstances.

The problem with this idea is that I don't have a clothesline.

When Seth and I first moved in together (almost 5 years ago!) Seth had more than no interest in hanging clothes outside to dry. He loathed the idea. He said that the air outside is DIRTY and one shouldn't hang CLEAN clothes in it. I never really figured out how the air outside is really much different than the air in the dryer, in the basement, where Seth regularly fires up a motorcycle and fills the house with exhaust. (If anything, I think the air outside is cleaner.) But still, Seth maintains that if a bird were to sit in our tree and poop on our clothes, we would have to wash them again, and I really can't argue with that.

When we got home after our wedding, for some reason we had a ton of laundry. I think we left a bit of laundry and then came back with only dirty clothes. We did load after load after load of laundry, but the piles never seemed to get smaller. As I switched the clothes from the washer to the dryer for what seemed like the thousandth time, I thought "man, the electric bill is going to be a doozy this month!"

[Sidenote: I just looked up the word "doozy" because Google doesn't believe that its a word. So, I found it in Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary. Here's what they say:

doo zy : noun : an extraordinary one of its kind.

Does anyone else find that definition hilarious?]

Anyway, the electric bill came. I suppose "extraordinary" could be an accurate description. Seth's eyes almost popped out of his head.

The next day, I needed to wash our sheets. Not only did I not want to use the dryer (and its huge amount of electricity) because of the bill, but in general I'm always trying to use less electricity, or at least get my electricity from sustainable sources. I can't control where the electric from the grid comes from, but I can control whether I use that electric or not. Sometimes. OK, I can at least take small steps to use less of it. Right?
Of course right. (name that movie!)

So I was interested in washing my sheets and not using the dryer. But I don't have a clothesline!
Don't despair, YOU CAN DO IT!

We don't have a clothesline, but here's what we do have.
A drying rack (for clothes that don't go in the dryer).
Two hangers with clips on them (for pants and shorts and things).
Two clothespins.

So, I put the sheets in the washer confident that when they came out I could find a way to hang them up to dry. And I did it! I positioned the drying rack in the middle of the dining room, hung the end of one sheet over one edge of it, and clipped the other end to a hanger, which I hung on a nail in the doorway to the kitchen. (Normally this nail is only used to hold Christmas lights up. I'm not sure what its original purpose was.) Then, I did the same thing with the duvet cover, hanging the second clippy hanger in the doorway to the living room - which also has a convenient Christmas light nail in the center of it.

I had the fanciful feeling of a 7 year old making a tent clubhouse out of quilts and blankets.

I attached the two clothespins to another hanger and hung the end of the last sheet from the door of the guest room, with the other end of the sheet draped loosely over the ironing board. I hung the pillowcases on the rack.

I did this around noon, (lunch break!) and everything was dry well before it was time to go to bed. I'd even say they were dry by the time we ate dinner! How exciting! How inspiring! I can do it! We can do it! We don't need a dryer!

When Seth came home ("this place is like a Bedouin tent") I told him of my electric bill theory and may have started rambling about mountain top removal, clean coal propaganda, unions, labor, solar power and windmills. He remembered doing load after load of laundry with me, and he thought perhaps the section of my rant that had to do with us not using our dryer had merit. I told him we should get a clothesline outside so I could hang ALL the clothes out to dry, and he said "Ok, and we'll just hang a sign on it that says '$$' so that I remember not to complain about it."

So I'm taking off and not looking back. I haven't used the dryer for all of June, and I don't even have to skimp on a load. (And I haven't even gotten a clothesline yet!) I hang most things on our drying rack, which is a pretty good size. What doesn't fit I hang on hangers in doorways. Everything is usually dry by that evening.

So - I'm going to see how long I can go without using the dryer. I'm shooting for - all summer. Who's with me!? I've already even started thinking I can manage all of this without a clothesline too. Who need a clothesline anyway, when you have a drying rack, two clippy hangers and two clothespins?

Not I!

Seth vs. KTM vs. The Stream of My Conciousness

2011-06-09T17:20:00.010-04:00

Interruption, again. Apologies - I don't find wedding planning fascinating enough to let it take over my life.

As you may recall, Seth has been having some minor problems with his motorcycle. After he got it going last time, we began working on our new fully enclosed motorcycle trailer. We're building a clubhouse inside of it.

Or something like that.

Here are some shots of Seth when he got the trailer home:

It kinda reminded me of when Dad and Urban brought the "new" rollback home.
:)

I'll tell you more about our new clubhouse later. Back to the story at hand. Seth left his bike sitting for a while, neglected, and it didn't appreciate it. So, of course, when we tried to go for a ride on Sunday (Seth hasn't ridden a motorcycle since February and is racing in a prestigious race in 2 1/2 weeks - eeek!) it didn't start. Actually, oh yes. It did start, but conked out when we were about 2 miles away. Seth left me in the parking lot of a hotel with his bike and took my bike (which starts every time) home to get the ~~clubhouse~~ trailer.

When we got home we stripped his bike down, preparing to open up the engine for worst-case-scenario investigation. In the process, we saw a wire that was split in two. "Oh" said Seth, "that's obviously the problem." He took off the wire, which goes to his computer system (the one that tells him how fast he's going and silly things like that) and put the battery on the charger overnight.

On Monday when he got home from work, Seth put the battery in and took the bike outside. He tried to start it and

WREE WREE WREE WREE WREE

no go.

Last time this happened he bump started it and everything was fine. So he tried that again, but everything was not fine. It started, but it sounded TEEEERRIBLE. He managed to keep it alive around the block, and rode back up the driveway with blue exhaust sputtering from his tailpipe. I told him his exhaust was blue and asked if there could be oil getting into the gas. Or something...not that I really know.

"I hope I didn't blow a head gasket in this baby," Seth despaired.

Upon closer examination we found black gunk all over the place, like it was spitting out from the engine or the exhaust pipes. Seth hopped in the car and went to "the shop." When he came back he had an idea! He had cleaned the carburetor on Saturday, maybe he messed something up! He spent the night taking his carburetor apart piece by piece, cleaning it, (over and over again) and then carefully putting it back together again. Around 12:30 he had it together, and decided he'd put it in the bike the next day, and we'd go for a ride.

Tuesday. Seth got home from work and went straight to the basement. He brought his bike outside and turned on the gas. Immediately a stream of gas came pouring out of the petcock. I started cracking up, he gasped, and quickly turned the gas off. "Did you forget something?" I asked. He grinned and went inside. When he put the proper tubing back on his bike, he turned on the gas again, and tried to start the temperamental beast.

WREE WREE WREE WREE WREE

WREE WREE WREE WREE WREE

He tried to kick start it.
CaTHUMP
CaTHUMP
CaTHUMP

He looked at me with a frown.

He tried to bump start it. He rolled down the hill and it started for a few cycles of the engine without ever sounding like it was going to keep going. It didn't.

He pushed it back up the hill and tried again. It did the same thing.

We pushed it back up the hill and tried again.

We pushed it aaaall the way up the hill to our main driveway, and he tried again.

We pushed it aaaall the way up the hill and tried again.

We pushed it back to the basement driveway and poor Seth looked at it in despair. He decided to check and see what the spark plug looked like. Every other time we've tried to start it we've burned up the spark plug, so this seemed like a reasonable idea to me. He went and got his tools and a new spark plug. Suddenly, he looked up at me with a huge grin on his face.

"This is perhaps not my finest mechanical hour," he said.
"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I forgot to put the spark plug back in."
He he he a ha ha ha ho ho ho.

I was rolling on the ground with laughter. He put the spark plug in and it started. right. up.

We were both sweaty hot from all that unnecessary pushing his motorcycle (with a full tank of gas) up our steep hill. "Wanna have a freezy pop and go for a ride?" I asked.

"YES" Seth responded.

When we finally got out for our first ride of the year it was ultimate bliss. We were so excited. Paul got us a new camcorder for our wedding present that you can attach to helmets and bikes and stuff, and Seth put it on his helmet. (We were testing it out before he races pikes peak!)

Now that Seth has finally (once and for all - hopefully) conquered the KTM battle, I thought I'd humor you with the thoughts that run through my brain while we're on a motorcycle ride. Our plan was to go over Warren Mountain (Roxbury Gap), Lincoln Peak (Lincoln Gap) and then come back over the App Gap.

Here goes...
"These mountains are SO beautiful. I love Vermont. How could we ever consider moving away? What a beautiful summer day - the wind in our hair, the sun on our faces, aaaah perfection. What? We're getting on the highway?? That never happens. Seth is pretty far ahead of me. I'm going about as fast as I care to and I'm not catching up. There are a lot of cars in between us, I hope I see where he gets off!

OH! He's getting off!

I enjoy this road. Wait. We're not turning here? Ooooh we're taking a back way. Woo-oo-ooah this road is bumpy!

Holy Cow that guard rail in the corner of my vision is totally mangled. It's down in the creek! Oooooh. I'll bet this road got wiped OUT during the flood. Huh. I wonder if we're going to come across any huge crevasses. Seth would probably manage to hop over it and I would tumble into it like a daydreaming WOAH there's a stop sign. Those things always sneak up on me.

Ha! This is Roxbury? What a dump. I'll have to tell Mom never to move here. There are so many houses for sale on Warren Mountain. I'll have to count them as I'm going up. The whole dagon mountain is for sale! I wonder how much it would cost to buy all of those properties and just have an entire mountain. Probably a gazillion dollars. (There's a house for sale!) Seth and I totally need a gazillion dollars. That house is for sale! And its so pretty! Mom could buy that house! Naah, its to close to Roxbury.

Oh yes, the road is turning to dirt. I prefer dirt to pavement [babump] I take it back. I like pavement way better than gravel. Gravel slides and moves, pavement usually doesn't. That transition from pavement to dirt was tricky! Huh. Pikes Peak is partially paved, and partially dirt. Seth is going to be flying over those transitions. I wonder what the dirt part of Pikes Peak is like. Is it hard pack with a few pieces of gravel here and there like this? or is it just hard pack and the same as pavement? I'm not nervous at all about this race.
Nope, not me.

There's a house for sale! Its driveway is so long I can't even see the house! That's a good sign.

Wooooah that was a tight turn. There's a house for sale!

There's another house for sale! The whole mountain really is for sale!

Oh, here's the top, now back down. Huh, there aren't any houses for sale on this side, I wonder why.

Duh Joanna, remember how dumpy Roxbury was? And you know how nice Warren is, of course this side of the mountain isn't for sale.

I love going over covered bridges on motorcycles.

Lincoln Gap is Sooooo beautiful. I hope Seth turned the video camera on for this. Ugh. We forgot to come skiing here last winter! Going up steep mountains is so much easier than going down. Oh. Here's the top! Holy Cannoli that is steep! I can't believe we braved this gap with Paul when it was already closed for winter. What a bunch of eejits. Woooooah man this gravel is deep! I'm-not-going-to-make-this-turn, I'm-not-going-to-make-this-turn, I'm-not-going-to-make-this-turn eeeeEEEEEEAAAAAIIII'm going to diiiie!! phew! Made it. Yikes. This gravel is AFRICA deep.
I hope the dirt section of Pikes Peak doesn't have deep gravel like this.
It probably does.
Seth is probably sliding all through this stuff on purpose.
I am sooo not nervous at all about the Pikes Peak Hill Climb.

Hey! There's a church for sale! We should buy it and Dad can have two kids living at church. Ha.

Oooooh the App Gap. I am at once terrified and in love. Seth must be blazing. I wonder if he turned the camera on. I'll bet he forgot about it. Maybe he'll remember and film me from the top. That would be awesome."

As soon as I get to the top Seth tells me that he totally forgot about the camera. "Did you get me coming up the last stretch?" I asked.
"No, I forgot about it til just this instant."

Then we took this video...

Then he filmed me going down the mountain, but its like 10 minutes long and really boring. I'll spare you.

Then we ate at the Dairy Creme, which has the best fried chicken and the only good french fries in all of Vermont, and then we went home.
Wasn't that fun!

: On Wedding Planning :: Part 2 :

2011-05-27T16:43:00.001-04:00

Fun, Comfortable, Simple. These were the elements we were trying to achieve at our wedding. Sometimes it was hard not to get carried away with all the fun things we could do, and remember to keep it simple. Fun vs. Simple. It's a fine line. We didn't want our wedding to be so simple that there was nothing special about it, but we didn't want to get so carried away with customizing that we didn't enjoy the whole process (and the actual event!)

Once we got a venue, everything else would fall into place.

I really thought that was true and to a certain extent, it was. We knocked out a lot of other vendors by having only one location and by selecting a location that has a built in "restaurant." The Highland Country Club was our wedding location, reception location and caterer, and they were even providing centerpieces. They provided everything we needed to have a swell party.

There were still other things we needed to turn our party into a wedding though. Looking back I think our vendor selection process helped keep things simple. We chose people we trusted to do exactly what we wanted, and then let them do their job. We didn't have to worry about those things anymore - we knew they were in good hands.

Photography was important to us. I wanted beautiful, artistic photographs that caught all the special moments of our wedding, and Seth recognized that it was important to document the occasion "for posterity." Enter Varland Photography. Varland Photography was started by two of my high school friends who are now married. I've been following their blog since they started, and I've always loved what they do. They tend to document weddings as photo-journalists, taking pictures of things as they happen. Because of that I think their pictures have less of a formal, stiff and posed attitude. They are natural. They are comfortable. They are fun. (They will still do posed traditional shots, but don't limit themselves!)
They are perfect. They are amazing. Hiring them was the very first thing I did, and then I didn't worry about pictures until the day after the wedding when I wanted to see them all right away!

The second thing I did was to ask my amazing brother to design our invitations. Paul is a master designer. Perhaps it's just because great-minds-think-alike, but everything he designs I look at and think it could not possibly be more perfect. I've always been jealous of people who get websites, business cards, or whatever - anything designed by Paul. At the Car-Part training conference last year I received a name tag designed by Paul. It is still hanging in my office and I smile when I look at it. I've never seen such a perfect name tag!

So obviously, here was my big chance. Paul said he would be honored. I didn't realize at the time how much pressure designing perfect invitations for your sister's wedding might be. I told Paul I thought the invitations could maybe represent travel or adventure, something about a postcard, but he could do whatever he wanted. He said I should at least give him the words to use!

So I "hired" Paul and forgot about invitations.

Seth and I decided to have a secular wedding ceremony with a few Jewish traditions thrown in here and there. We asked my uncle Bill if he would marry us. He said he'd be honored. He said he'd send us a sample ceremony and we could get back to him on whether we wanted to change it or not. I was really glad that Bill was going to marry us. It made the whole thing more special.

Next up, the florist. DUN-Dun-dun.
I had no idea what kind of flowers I wanted. I had all sorts of contradictory ideas floating around in my head. Indecision led to reluctance, and I did not want to commit to a florist. "Can't we just get flowers and put our own bouquets together?" I kept saying. This time it was mom who stepped in. "Do you really want to be putting flowers together the morning of your wedding?" she asked - hinting strongly that of course I didn't want to be putting flowers together the morning of my wedding.
"Maybe we could do it the night before, at the rehearsal-dinner-afterparty?" I suggested.
"You want to be putting flowers together while everyone else is having a good time?"
"Putting flowers together doesn't exclude me from having a good time!" I argued, "we can all be putting our flowers together, and its not like people will shun us because we are making bouquets..."

I was going to be stubborn on this one. I really didn't feel like calling florists.

In December, I started to worry again. I had flimsily suggested that Paul have some kind of draft maybe by the end of October so that we could order the invitations in December and mail them in January. It was December and I hadn't heard anything. In January we went to New York and I made him bring his computer. I told him he couldn't go to any shows unless the invitations were done. He went to shows both nights we were there, but the invitations weren't done.

I told him he should work on them all the way home. That didn't happen.

He had a business trip the next weekend, and I told him to work on them in the hotel at night. I don't think that happened, but a week or two later, at last he emailed me the first draft. It was 11 at night and I looked at them on my phone. "I love them!!" We changed a few small things and ordered them. I sent a sample to Mom, who noticed a typo. A pit formed in my stomach and I called Paul. Paul called the printer to halt the presses, and sent them a new file just in the nik of time. We ordered expedited shipping.

I had ordered the envelopes ahead of time and had them all stamped and addressed so that when the invitations came I could just stuff-and-send.
BAM!
Invitations done. Thanks Paul! They were just perfect!

By the beginning of February the invitations were taken care of and Mom started asking about the florist again. I was still reluctant. I felt like I had been spending lots of money lately and still didn't know what kind of flowers I wanted.

Finally, she said she'd heard good things about Ft. Thomas Florist, and asked if she could please call them.
"OK."

In a few minutes it was all dealt with. We put a deposit down and had a meeting scheduled for when I would be in town. That was pretty relieving, but I still didn't know what I wanted. I emailed my bridesmaids and asked what THEY wanted - afterall, most of the flowers were for them! Anne emailed back with a series of BEAUTIFUL pictures of different bridesmaids' bouquets and bridal bouquets. They were so pretty! All of a sudden, I was excited about flowers. I scoured the internet for more pictures and put my favorites into a document I printed out to bring to the florist. Even the day of the meeting I wasn't sure what I wanted. There were so many variations! Which direction should I go in? - there were bright colorful wildflower bouquets, mono-color bouquets, faded color bouquets, different styles and shapes of bouquets ... the only thing I knew was that I wanted the bouquets to look like spring flowers you could have gone out and picked in a field. Or in a garden. Or something. Spring flowers. They had to be right for the season.

I talked to Kelly at lunch and we decided that for the bridesmaids I'd show her two pictures of bright beautiful wildflowers. I still didn't know what I wanted for my own bouquet. These are the bridesmaid pictures:

When Mom and I got to the florist, I showed her the two I wanted the bridesmaids' based on, and then, to my surprise, it became perfectly clear which one I wanted mine to be. It was the prettiest, afterall, and Anne's email had reminded me that I do like pretty things. This is the one I showed her for mine:

She took the pictures downstairs and put together a sample bridesmaid bouquet. Perfection. Mom said my face lit up when she walked back in. It was so perfect that we didn't make her put a sample of my bouquet together - she obviously knew exactly what we wanted. I knew the flowers were in good hands. (Thanks Mom!)
Boom! Flowers done!

I really wanted to make the cake myself. Seth and Mom didn't think I knew what I was getting myself into and said I would have plenty of other things to do the week before the wedding. (I couldn't fathom what else I might be doing, and they could only reply with "stuff.") Anne has always been great at baking things, and she made the cake for her brother's wedding, so I asked her if she would help me make mine. She said that sounded like great fun and we swapped a few pictures. Based on the pictures she sent me, I knew she knew.

We kept making plans to go to cake supply stores and make practice cakes, but they kept falling through. Anne eventually took the initiative and ordered everything she'd need to make the cake. She graciously made a practice cake, selected the perfect picture to base it off of, then painstakingly made the real cake and brought it to the country club the morning of the wedding. She took care of everything. It was beautiful. It was delicious! (It was delovely!) Thanks Anne! I don't think I could have gotten a more perfect cake anywhere in the world.

But wait! Cake was not our only dessert option! Cindy took on the task of organizing a whole dessert table! This falls into the comfortable and fun categories. She made cupcakes and jello and chocolate covered strawberries, and my aunt Laura made some delicious amazing chocolate pecan pies, and my aunt Julie made a delightful cherry supreme! Anne of course, made the cake.

The dessert table was a raging success. It was situated in between the bar and the dining room, so everyone saw it while they were getting drinks, and everyone made a beeline for it as soon as they were done eating. There was a huuuge line. Thanks Cindy, Anne, Laura and Julie, for your delicious desserts!

Music has always been a big part of my life. Mom's family is very musical and we would get together occasionally for the sole purpose of singing and playing together. Mom plays flute and piano at weddings professionally, so she was obviously ~~interested in~~ obsessed with my music. The problem - again - was that I didn't know what I wanted. Again - Mom didn't let my lack of ideas stop her. She put herself in charge of music and sent me a few sample songs online. They were perfect! They were beautiful Jewish songs and I loved them. She wrote the music out for the instruments we had available, asked family members to play and held rehearsals to make sure everyone was practicing. Is it obvious that she does this professionally?

We opened up the prelude section and asked for volunteers to do solos or duets. Then Mom had the grand idea for the very last prelude song - to have all my Lander aunts singing "For the Beauty of the Earth." They threw it together at the very last minute and it was extraordinarily beautiful. It was the only prelude song that I heard since it was right before our big entrance. Thanks Mom, Laura, Julie, Alex, Carolyn, and Nick, for your beautious music!

For the reception music I put together a playlist and The Frankl Project provided speakers and Jake, who did a fantastic job overseeing the whole evening. Seth didn't stop me from putting the playlist together, it was relatively stress free and I started working on it immediately. Between February and April I only made minor tweaks to song order, with a few adds and deletes here and there. It was done way ahead of time. Thank you Jake!! You were the greatest!

So far even though I haven't had to do a lot myself, my family and friends have been making major contributions. Our wedding was definitely a group effort, which allowed us - I think - to keep things simple and fun - and unique - all at the same time. The only thing I actually took on myself was figuring out how to let guests know which tables to sit at and let the servers know who got what for dinner.

I had been discussing ideas with Jody, the wedding expert, and she said that the more clear it is to guests what they are supposed to do, the smoother things flow and the happier the guests are. Ideas were circling in my head like vultures. Place cards, escort cards, seating boards...

Sometime in January I had this vision of travel posters from the 20s and 30s. Stylish, Art Deco - the golden age of adventure when far off places were still exotic and mysterious (and far off). It came to me as a complete idea (unlike that last "sentence"). Each table would have a different poster, and each guest would be assigned to a "destination." I would make a train station style departure board to get people to their table, and each place would have a "ticket stub" style place card.
Bing! Done. (sort of)

That's all for Part 2! I've delegated everything I could and kept one pet project for myself. I know everything else is taken care of and my brain is filled with images of destinations portrayed in fabulous art-deco glory. Google Image Search Results for "vintage train station departure boards" play like a slideshow in my brain.

It's two weeks 'til the wedding. I've kissed Seth goodbye and I'm racing towards Kentucky, the reception playlist playing over and over in the background. Winter turns to spring and here I am! Hugging Mom hello and formulating the first of many to-do lists over a glass of wine.

Seth vs. KTM

2011-05-22T21:44:00.004-04:00

We interupt this regular scheduled programming to bring you an important story about a boy and his motorcycle.

At the Sandblast Rally in South Carolina Seth's bike always gets filthy dirty. Covered in sand-clay-dirt-mud, it arrives back to snowy Vermont in no season for a bath. For the remainder of winter it sits, wallowing in grime in the dank dark basement. Occasionally Seth looks down and sighs wistfully, wishing he could give his beloved a good scrub.

This year, as soon as the first sunny day came Seth was out giving his baby a bath. He's been washing it over and over, trying to get it clean, slowly taking layer after layer off, cleaning every piece. While it's all taken apart, he's been working on it, preparing it for the Pikes Peak Hill Climb in June. Today he was cleaning out the carburetor, bringing it up to the bathroom sink piece by piece and cleaning them all out. For some reason the sink is a little clogged up now - there are rings of oil around the sides where the black water pooled in the bowl. Gross. I have to admit that I find an oily bathroom sink pretty annoying. That'll need to be cleaned up post haste.

Anyway, this afternoon when we discovered there was no food left in the house and we were both starving, we decided we would need to go shopping. There is a bike (bicycle) fest going on in Barre, and we've been thinking of going all weekend, but Seth just had too much work to get done on the bike! So, since we had to go out anyway, we thought it would be fun to ride the motorcycles down to the bike fest, and then go "motorcycle shopping." Seth put his bike back together in record time, I got mine out and started it up. Seth brought his outside and pressed the start. "wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE"

"wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE"

"wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE"

"wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE pupupuPOP puPOP puPOP POP pupPRRrrrrrrrrrrrr."

silence.

"wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE"

I had been getting my boots on but I went downstairs. "What's wrong?" I asked. There was a puddle of brown liquid on the floor.

For whatever reason the bike had spewed rusty water onto the ground when it almost got started, and now it wouldn't start again. Seth was beside himself. "What's wrong with you???" he moaned.

He tried a few more times to no avail. He thought the water came out of the exhaust pipe, so we took the exhaust off to see if there was any water in it. There wasn't. We put it back on. We found a tiny hairline crack near the muffler, and decided to blame it for the strange and poppy sound when it did start the one time. We decided it wasn't starting because it's temperamental and never likes to start at the beginning of the season. We didn't really know what to do, so we put my starts-right-up-every-time-BMW away and took the car to the store and made dinner.

Seth sulked. His favorite toy was broken, and he didn't know how to fix it.

When we were done eating he got up, heaved a sigh and said "well, I guess I'll go take the exhaust off so I can bring it to the shop tomorrow." He was hoping the shop would be able to reweld the crack and he wouldn't have to buy a whole new exhaust system.

"wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE"

"wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE wrEEE"

I finished up the dishes and went downstairs. I found Seth outside with the bike. He had taken the spark plug out and discovered that the bike was running too rich. It wasn't getting enough air? Or...there was water in the engine?? So, he decided he would try to bump start it. (?) Luckily we live on top of a huge hill, so this isn't a problem. He pulled in the clutch and started rolling down the driveway. When he got to the road he let it go and "baBAM poPOP poPOP poPOP po po po POP POP va vaROOOM vaROOM VVROOOOM" and he was off! As soon as he disappeared down the road, I heard the engine cut out.

I put Thunder inside so that I could walk down the road and see if he needed anything. By the time I got back to the basement door to start down the hill, I heard his engine start up again at the bottom of the hill! (His motorcycle is pretty loud, I can hear it all over our fine hill. I'm sure our neighbors hate us.) I jumped up on the retaining wall so that I could see the road better, and saw Seth FLYING past, his shirt billowing in the wind as he came back up the hill, a devilish grin on his face. I felt like jumping up and down and cheering, arms over my head - Hoorrraaayy! It works!

When he got back a few minutes later, he smiled and said "Well I don't know what it was ..."

"...I guess you blew it out, huh?" I finished. He smiled.

My bike may start-right-up-every-time, but it's certainly not nearly as exciting.
And now I have to go clean the bathroom.

: On Wedding Planning :: Part 1 :

2011-05-19T23:38:00.005-04:00

The first, last, and perhaps only lesson I learned from planning a wedding is - if you can't do it (way) ahead of time, don't do it yourself. I learned this lesson from my darling fiance who, while everyone else was saying "whatever you want," was saying "is that really what you want to be doing the day before the wedding?"

Seth keeps me grounded. That's why I married him.

We decided right away that our main goals for our wedding were for things to be simple, comfortable, and fun. My first goal was to figure out where we would be wed. After that, I thought, everything else would fall into place.

Seth and I spent many lingering July twilights staring up at the layers of leaves in our tree, discussing scenarios, options, and hashing out where we would have our wedding. Our first thought was to have it at Seth's Dad's house. It would be comfortable and it would be SO fun! But as I let Seth in on my vision for this stay-at-home-wedding ...

...every room could have a different theme! All the food could be buffet style in the kitchen with tables throughout the house and a tent in the lawn! And a tent on the patio! There could be so many places for things to be going on! People could gather in small groups! It could FEEL like a small wedding even though its a huuge wedding! We could have croquet! The whole third floor could be where the kids hang out, we could decorate it like UP! and have Pixar movies for them to watch! And popcorn! We could make little lanterns for each table! We could...

..."Do you really want to spend the day before the wedding making lanterns, decorating my dad's house, setting up tents and tables and speakers? Do you really want to make everyone we know come over to help us blow up hundreds of balloons the morning of the wedding so the kids can pretend the house is flying away?"

Comfortable and fun - yes - but not simple. We got rid of that idea.

Then I began frantically searching the internet for places in Kentucky and Cincinnati where you can get married and have a reception. SO MANY OPTIONS! There were so many options! Some I nixed because of price, some I nixed because the carpet was ugly, some I nixed because they had drop tile ceilings, some I nixed because they had no windows. (I admit that I am a complete snob when it comes to decor.) Some Dad nixed because no one should have to drive more than an hour to get to my wedding. (Although by that logic I probably should have been looking for a place in Middletown.) In the end I had about three or four viable options. Even so, all these locations were spinning around in my head with their attributes, lack of attributes, menu options, price ranges, seating capacity, rental cost, rules, candle policies, availability...

At the very end of July and the beginning of August I was home for the big Car-Part Training event. There was a lot going on at work, and I had so many things to do after work! My to-do list involved getting a hall, getting a caterer, getting a florist, getting everyone you are supposed to get ahead of time, looking at dresses, looking at bridesmaids dresses, mothers dresses... Mom and I finally made plans to go see a hall on Wednesday, and Dad and Cindy were going to come too. When we got there it was pretty awesome, but we quickly realized it couldn't even hold all the Schroders. (Why they list 200 as their maximum capacity I will never know.) As this realization slowly sank in, all the other locations and their many attributes began spinning again. My brain was on the brink of a chaotic expulsion of hullabaloo, when the lady showing us around said that they had just made a deal with the Highland Country Club, and they were having a special hugely discounted price if you booked in July, and she could take us there right now!

We walked in to the Highland Country Club and were greeted by Dan, the manager, with a huge smile, a handshake and glasses of water, or coke, or anything we wanted. They showed us around and we asked questions. "Oh sure, of course." "Oh yea, we do that all the time." "Oh, you know, the dining room is basically a wall of windows looking out over the sunset." "Oh - and did we mention you can use our glass hurricane centerpieces for a total of $50 extra dollars?"

I think maybe my brain did expel the hullabaloo. This was easy. This seemed fun. They have two fireplaces. (In my brain that means they are automatically comfortable.)

This picture, incidentally, is what I see when I look into my engagement ring.
This picture is what flashes in my head when everything is right and beautiful in the world.

So now we have a venue, and everything else is going to fall into place!

The Dress.
My wonderful and talented aunt Lana generously offered to make my dress for me. This was such a huge relief, since I am never able to find dresses I like that fit me well and look good on me. The first step towards Lana making my dress was to go try on dresses and get a feel for what I wanted, what looked good on me, the different fabrics, what can be done, etc. We went and tried on dresses. The only way to make the thought of trying on expensive uncomfortable dresses bearable to this ragamuffin hillbilly was to surround myself with people who looove dresses, and love me too. I asked the lady at the store if there was a limit on the number of people I could bring with me. She said there wasn't really, but I should keep in mind that the more people came, the more opinions there would be, and the harder it would be for me. I didn't tell her that she was full of malarkey, we weren't planning on finding a dress to buy, that I needed as many people as possible to tell me her dresses weren't ugly, and that she probably shouldn't let me touch her pretty white expensive dresses in the first place.

I didn't tell her any of that, and brought an entourage of 2 moms, 1 aunt, 3 cousins and my reluctant self. If I had known at the time that Paul was going to be my maid of honor I would have made him come too.

Mom, obviously, provided lots of emotional support, and has lots of experience deciding whether things look good on me or not. (And honestly telling me when they don't.)
Cindy is really great at making me feel good about myself no matter what.
Lana is an expert at her craft, and knew how we could recreate all the dresses I tried on. (And what fabrics they were made out of, so that when I said things like "I like how this does this," she knew what I meant. I think.)
Jody is a wedding expert and knows everything there is to know about what's fashionable and what looks good. She's also already planned her own spectacular wedding and knows what's up.
Anne is a combination of Lana and Jody, and loves pretty things. She always reminds me that I like pretty things too, and that sometimes it can be fun to dress up. Anne also has already planned her own spectacular wedding, and also knows what's up.
Julie makes every event fun no matter how horrifying or dull it could be. Always smiling, always laughing, always a gleam in her eye!

These were all very important people to have with me. The whole event turned out to be quite diverting.
"I like how this one goes whoooooosh."
"I like how this one fits like this here and like that there."
"I like the sash I guess?"
"I like how this one goes whooo! in the back."
"I loove the lace on this one, but its scratchy. We shouldn't have lace anywhere on the bodice or it will be too scratchy."

"You're taking bridal comfort to a whole new level!" Jody teased.

Finally we decided we had to stop and let Anne and Julie try dresses on. That was way more fun.

Oh! Remember the Car-Part Training Conference? That's the whole reason I'm in town. During the different talks and presentations, I spent my time drawing different dress designs, front and back, on the notepaper that was (conveniently) provided. I had two main designs going on, and they were pretty similar. Later we went to Lana's and I showed her my drawings and we talked about materials, looked at Grandma, Jody and Anne's dresses, talked about different shades of white, different levels of glossiness, weight, thickness...all sorts of things I'd never thought about before. We determined a neckline, a skirt and a basic idea of what the front and back would look like. I already knew it was going to be a thousand times prettier than anything I'd seen at the store!

When I was back in Vermont Lana sent me samples of some fabric and some lace. I was so excited! I opened the package and showed it all to Seth. Instead of looking at them and giving a verdict, as I thought he would, he rubbed each fabric in between his fingers and got this disgusted look on his face. "That feels terrible!" This was not at all the reaction I was expecting. Feeling. Now different fabrics and their various qualities (including softness) are swirling through my brain.

Anne suggested that we all meet in New York City in order to find my fabric. What fun! That sounded SO exciting! We decided to go for it, and got a crew together (my support group) of cousins, Lana and Mom. Anne found a great extended stay apartment style room for us for the whole weekend. We arrived on Thursday and left on Sunday. Lots of fabric stores are closed on Saturday, which meant that we had to find fabric on Friday.

Lana, Anne, Jody, Kelly, and Julie arrived eeeeearly Thursday morning. Mom, Paul and I arrived later in the afternoon. Our drive started out pretty relaxed, and as we got closer and closer to New York City we got more excited to be there and more anxious to get out of the car! When we finally got within sight of the City Paul was driving and Mom was giving him directions. "You need to be in the right lane" "I can't get over this guy won't let me in" "Follow the signs to the Lincoln Tunnel" "This asshole won't let me OVER what do you want me to DO!!!"

Tensions were high.

When we finally made it through the Lincoln Tunnel and emerged into the light on the other side, Paul had to make an immediate left. Old Crow Medicine Show was playing in the cd player and we all realized that the most frantic bluegrass song you've ever heard was playing, and getting louder and louder. "Turn left here!" "WHAT?!?!?!?!" Mom punched the radio knob, silencing the chaos.

We all started cracking up.

We were glad to chill out for a while once we got to the hotel. Paul did so by taking pictures of our amazing view!

Did you know Paul was afraid of heights? Look at those knuckles!

That night we had a delicious sushi dinner. I was forced to pick the restaurant because - "you're the bride!" - so we wandered around for a while before dinner. Luckily when I finally decided to take some initiative and walk into a restaurant it was a pretty good one. After dinner we found the cutest little bakery that makes the tiniest little cupcakes! See! In this picture, Kelly tries to take a normally proportioned bite out of an undersized cupcake.

The next morning, even though there was a snowstorm raging and we had a mission (and poor Anne had a sinus infection), we decided to walk some 70 or 80 blocks to the fashion district. Paul graciously documented our excursion:

We stopped at the Met for a photo-op.

Julie and Kelly are characteristically enthusiastic, even though they are cold-wet-and-miserable.

I am characteristically oblivious that snow might be miserable:

Look! We made it!

Finally we arrived at Mood Fabric...Paul and Julie are so excited!

When we walked in, someone told Julie she shouldn't touch anything since she was obviously soaking wet. She, Kelly and Jody hunkered down by the door while Lana, Anne, Mom and I searched through piles and piles of fabric and Paul went around taking pictures. We found the corner of lace, and started looking at each option. There were so many! And yet, so few that were really viable options. Anne would pull one out and unroll it, and we'd all look at it and say what we liked and didn't like. Lacey designs, sequence and pearls began to spin in my head. How could I choose from all of these?! How could I remember the differences between each one when we moved on!? We decided to start looking at fabric and leave the lace decision for later. Very quickly we found a PERFECT piece of charmeuse (?) in a PERFECT color. We took a sample of it and left for the next store, all excited!

When we got outside we realized that it was actually time for lunch and we were going to have to take a break before everyone starved to death. We spent a long time at lunch, warming up and drying off!

Then we went to Lace Star. They had walls of lace. I had been overwhelmed with the corner of lace at Mood; I had no idea how I was going to decide between all of these laces!

Then, we spotted it. It was a nearly perfect lace. It was very similar to the lace on Anne's wedding dress, which, when I first saw it I had declared the most beautiful lace I had ever seen. We got the swatch out of my pocket and put the lace on top. It was the perfect lace in the pefect color. We gasped. Paul took a picture to document the occasion.

We bought the perfect lace and raced back to Mood to get the perfect fabric. Paul graciously took another picture to document the occasion.

Mom took one too!

After we had the perfect fabric and the perfect lace I felt my brain let go of all the differences between the laces we had looked at, the softness factor, the colors, the weight. I had the perfect fabric and the perfect lace in a bag - which Paul was guarding with his life.

Some other photo highlights from New York:

So now, we have a venue and everything else will fall into place.
We have material for the dress and everything is right in the world.

Except, it's getting awfully close to time to send out the invitations, and Paul hasn't started them yet! Oh no!

: On Engagement :

2011-05-02T18:43:00.002-04:00

Last summer.

Seth and I had just returned from our motorcycle adventures in Canada and we were settling nicely back into our summer routine. Nothing was any different than it ever had been, and everything was wonderful. Calm, happy, sunny, warm. Vermont. Summer.

Him. Me.

We cooked dinner and ate in the dining room. (Normally, we eat on the couch watching TV. It seems Seth was not allowed to do this as a child and therefore considers it an act of freedom.) I love eating at the table becasue it is easier to talk, and to enjoy the lingering summer twilight. That night we lingered, speaking of life, philosophy, love.

Seth wanted to know how he was supposed to surprise me with an engagement ring if he didn't know my ring size. He said the jeweler told him they couldn't do much without knowing the size. I wanted to know what he meant by such a question.

He wanted to know if I would marry him, I wanted to know if he was joking.

He wasn't joking.

A smile spread across my face and filled my soul. Nothing was really different than it had ever been, but everything was even more wonderful than ever.

Amtrak, Green Beer, & Blackjack -or-

2011-03-20T12:46:00.007-04:00

ARA Hill Days is an event that happens every March. Every year in January, I think "maybe they won't make me go this year." Then, every year, I agree to go and have a great time, hoping fervently that they let me come back again next year.

I am a fickle soul.

For the past few years, I've made this event a great deal more enjoyable by taking the train from Vermont to DC rather than flying. I suppose it is a testament to how intensely I despise airports and their great companies that I would rather spend 13 hours on a train than face their rampant classism. The lack of humanity (not to mention mere civility) at any airport across this country leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth, a frown on my face, and a cramp in my aching neck. I have never witnessed a single kind act performed by a single airport employee to any other human being. (Except once, when Seth's dad got us into the crown room.)

So in order to avoid all of this I spend a perfectly comfortable 13 hours each way, enjoying the view, the cafe car, and the friendliness of the conductors. ("We're not yelling, just educating" said the conductor to the man sitting beside me who got on without a ticket or reservation.) I enjoy the relative silence of a train. CNN is not being blared from flat screen TVs at 15 foot intervals, I am not reminded every five minutes to be cautious because the threat level has recently been raised to orange. (A phenomenon that seems to happen every time I fly. How recently has it really been changed? Is this a scare tactic?) I reflect without delay on the blizzard that is raging in Vermont, as the scenery slowly changes from massive boulders, pine forests and overflowing tiny young rivers to flooded drainage ditches, deciduous forests, and a flatter, subdivision-bespeckled-landscape to City! Business! Sidewalks! - the heart of it all.

When I arrived in DC, this year, Dad picked me up. Our hotel was out in the burbs so I couldn't take the Metro like I did last year. We had a bit of trouble finding each other. ("I'm standing right in front of Union station, I see the Postal Museum to my right, three flags, then a roundabout, then the Capitol in front of me." "I'm on Massachusetts Avenue, I see the Postal Museum to my left, three flags to my right. I don't see the Capitol, I don't see Union Station.") I was getting worried that we might be replaying a previous incident involving Dad, DC and I, where I was standing under a missile in the atrium of the Air and Space Museum (with McDonald's to my left) and so was Dad, and yet we were a $65 cab ride away from each other.

The next day we were scheduled to meet with several Senators, Congressmen, or their aides, to discuss issues facing the automotive recycling industry. I asked Dad what we were supposed to be talking about this year. ARA wanted us to discuss the Right to Repair bill which will be introduced in the House and the Senate. Dad also wanted to discuss the repeal of the 1099 law and the EPA's attempt to classify used oil as a hazardous waste.

I was so nervous. Last year I felt like I had a pretty good handle on what I was supposed to say, and got into Senator Leahy's office and completely choked. This year I did not even feel confident before hand that I understood the issues.

The next morning ARA had a black Suburban waiting to take us down to Capitol Hill. We went first to a constituent breakfast with Sentator Brown from Ohio. By breakfast, I guess they meant free coffee, and we met with a few aides (one of whom, to everyone's surprise, uses Car-Part.com regularly!) We waited over an hour to talk to the Senator and were almost late for our next appointment. The Senator made it clear that he drives a Dodge Charger made in the United States by union workers.

Rand Paul, obviously, is the new tea-tottling freshman Senator from Kentucky. Because he's a freshman, he has a temporary office set up in the middle of the Russell building courtyard, while they wait for other offices to be remodeled and divvied up. There was another meeting in his only conference room, so we met with his aide in the cafeteria. I suggested to his aid (who had previously suggested they were very interested in helping small businesses) that even though the Right to Repair bill will be sponsored by Senator Boxer (D - California), the bill protects small businesses from potential monopolies by the manufacturers, supports competition and growth and basically supports the American dream. He wasn't sure, "knowing the Senator's ideology" if he'd be interested in supporting such a bill. One can only presume that the Senator's "ideology" allows him to help small businesses as long as that entails deregulation that will also help major corporations, but not so far as regulations which will only help small businesses (and, of course, the consumer). Or perhaps the Senator's "ideology" prohibits him from supporting anything supported by Democrats, regardless of its impact on small businesses, which he claims to care for so deeply.

Next up, Senator Leahy's staff, the meeting in which I so embarrassingly had nothing intelligent to say last year. Even though I continue to make a fool of myself in the senior Sentator's office, his staff member, who is the same every year, continues to seem pleased to see me and my Kentucky based company. I had previously requested that Dad do most of the talking this time, and I would jump in with some effects on Vermont, if the mood struck. This seemed to work really well ... we should probably do it every year. We also did it in Representative Welch's office, and between my Vermont meetings I managed to suggest that a) they pay for repealing the 1099 provision by counting up the fraud it would have perpetrated and the lost productivity it would have caused - (I am 75% sure that everyone knew that I know it doesn't work that way - ha ha it was a joke ha ha) b) that if oil becomes a hazardous waste everyone in Barre will throw it away instead of turning it in, and it will all end up in Lake Champlain, and that c) it is completely dangerous to drive from Barre to Burlington with the check engine light on, a LAUGHABLE notion to come out of the mouth of this Auto Recycler's daughter, who has driven so many cars with the check engine light on that she doesn't even notice when one turns on (to Seth's utter dismay). Lobbying has a devastating effect on integrity. I can see that it would be dangerous to do it very often.

The day went swimmingly and I can't wait for next year.

We had been told that the black suburbans would be waiting for us "at the fountain in front of the Capitol." As we walked towards the fountain, we realized that a line of black SUVs sitting in front of the Capitol was not a helpful thing to be searching for. Dad declared that they must sell more black Suburbans in DC than in the entire rest of the country!

That night we went out to dinner and I had my very-first-ever green beer. It was considerably less exciting than expected. I should have gotten a Guinness. Dad and Cindy and I walked around the trendy little shopping district our hotel was in, and wandered down to the banks of the Potomac, where the sun was setting and a piece of driftwood was floating idly by. A sense of peace and nostalgia filled me. I was suddenly transported to the banks of the Ohio, in Rabbit Hash, and the pure, luxurious peace of sitting in the dirt watching tiny waves lap at your feet and logs float slowly by. Southern rivers are set apart in my imagination. Different from lakes, different from oceans, different from the shallow furious rivers of New England. These mighty rivers are something all their own, and will always make me long for home.

Later on in the evening ARA was hosting a "Monte Carlo Night" where we could gamble with fake money. Dad played blackjack. I've never played before, so I watched for a few hands and then joined in. It was fake money after all. We were playing for fun. It was all about fun and learning, and then they announced that at the end of the night the top six people with the most "money" would get a free night at the hotel with free breakfast in the morning. Within a few minutes, I looked over and Dad had already gained a pile of $2500 chips. I was looking forward to breakfast. He did win a prize, but we discovered that it was good for a weekend night anytime during the next year, and dinner. That made it completely worthless to us. We should have known there would be a catch.

This morning Dad dropped me off at Union Station, and soon I'll arrive in Montpelier where Seth will be waiting at the train station to take me out to dinner. (How romantic!) Overall I've mangaged to make an entire trip without anyone suggesting - even on Capitol Hill - that the businessman with the thousand dollar suit should be allowed to tread on a dirty red carpet while the rest of us are denied such luxury and attention, or be given a complimentary meal while the rest of us starve. That their 2-3 pieces of luggage should be carried for free while the rest of ours (which cost $25 apiece) are left on the tarmac because the plane is "overweight."

Shocking, I know.

Skiing, Again

2011-01-30T22:35:00.001-05:00

I know I write about skiing all the time, but there is something so exhilarating about it, I just can't help it.

Thunder and I went skiing at Berlin Pond today. Seth has been crazy busy preparing for a training session he has to give in a few weeks, and we haven't been out in a while. The stress of getting wedding invitations out in a timely manner, the lengthening "to-do" list and general craziness at work had finally poisoned my brain and towards the end of last week nothing I tried could shake the feeling that my head was about to explode.

Thunder seemed to be going equally crazy. He'd taken to staring out the window and heaving wistful sighs that even Amy from Little Women couldn't compete with!

I knew we needed to get back to the woods, even if it meant going somewhere simple and leaving Seth at home to work on his presentations.

My soul must have been in desperate need of refreshing - the woods were uncommonly beautiful. The Eastern Hemlock needles were such an intense color of green sticking out beneath piles of fresh snow, and the unusually massive Paper Birches up there always make me wonder. I was in such high spirits I actually considered removing a perfectly peeling piece of bark and writing someone a letter on it! (I can't imagine how anyone came up with the name Paper Birch). The golden winter leaves of the American Beech tree have always reminded me of the golden leaves of Lothlorien, and lend extra color to the wintry scene.

It was very refreshing, indeed.

When all three of us are out in the woods together, Thunder pays very little attention to us and is usually bounding about in search of a rabbit or squirrel (or a deer, moose or bear). But I've noticed that when it is just him and me he stays much closer to me. He still goes bounding up the trail, but he comes bounding back much more frequently and even walks alongside me for long stretches. It's as though he knows Seth is not there to protect me and so he takes it on himself. He was actually walking next to or directly behind me for most of our adventure today! I'm not sure what I need protection from (rabbits and squirrels, perhaps?) but he does a fine job of it.

When we got home poor Seth was still working away. Next weekend is the Sandblast Rally in South Carolina, so hopefully he'll be able to relieve his mind soon too.

Black River Stages Rally, September 2010

2011-01-26T21:40:00.000-05:00

The most exciting part about the Black River Stages Rally was that is was in New York, and wouldn't require 15+ hours of driving and multiple vacation days in order to race. On top of that, the drive through the Adirondacks to Harisville New York (at sunset) was certainly more captivating than any of the other drives we undertake for any other rally.

The Adirondacks are beautiful. They have an entirely different feel than the Green Mountains of Vermont. Smoother, more peaceful. Serene. We took basically the same route through the Adirondacks as we did on the way to Evergreen, with the motorcycles.

This photo is en route to the ferry, looking across Lake Champlain from a Vermont hillside to the Adirondacks in the distance. It doesn't even remotely do the scene justice:

We keep forgetting how long it takes to get out of Vermont these days. We dropped Thunder off at his sitter for the weekend, and had to cross Warren Mountain, Lincoln Peak and Lake Champlain just to get into New York. Then we had to cross the Adirondacks in order to get to Harisville, where the Bed and Breakfast owners were less than pleased with our late arrival.

From the ferry (construction on bridge):

It was fun to be on familiar turf during tech inspection and in the pit area. There were pine needles on the ground, and it never got above seventy degrees.

A crowd of admirers...we've never had a crowd of admirers before:

The Black River Stages is unique from the other rallies Seth races in because the first stage starts in the afternoon and runs well into the night. I thought this was exciting until I realized that my reading lamp was setting, and it was going to get more chilly than I was prepared for. Now I know for next year!

The pit area was based out of a local camp ground, and since most of the motorcycle group was camping, the motorcycle section of the pit area was in the midst of a beautiful pine forest. Once the motorcycles roared back to their race I sprawled out in our trusty 4Runner and read until the last strains of light disappeared from the sky.

The race went late, as usual, but when it's supposed to end around 9 and things fall behind, it means it is REALLY late (and cold) before you can go grab a quick dinner and get some shuteye. Seth and I were both starving, and began to be discouraged at the hope of finding anyplace serving food, or even selling anything but alcohol. We were driving around Harisville searching the darkened windows for any hope that a tiny hole-in-the-wall would be lurking with food to offer. At last, in the midst of a completely black line of windows Seth saw a tiny "OPEN" sign. He went inside and came out with the joyous news that the bartender was willing to make us Turkey sandwiches. When we went in we found part of the Irish racing team (the driver and navigator). Apparently they'd finished first and had been there for some time already! We sat down and the aged bartender looked at me, then looked at Seth and said "You didn't tell me your mechanic was a woman!" with a twinkle in his eye that put me in mind of Grandpa. When the Irish team saw us receiving our turkey sandwiches (piled gloriously high!) they seemed aghast that they had been there such a long time and had not remembered to ask for food. As the bartender was making their sandwiches, their mechanics came in cursing, but were delighted to discover that sandwiches were available! I felt as though we had caused this poor old man quite a bit of trouble on what should have been a quiet evening. I liked him though, he made me think of Grandpa working the night shift and the fun times he must have had! At one point while he was making his fifth or sixth sandwich, he came out with a smile and said "Anyone want some clam chowdah!?" A rousing chorus of "aye"s came from the Irish corner. Seth and I were less hungry than we were exhausted, so we said goodnight and headed back to our B&B. Around 3:30 or 4 we were woken by footsteps in the hallway. The Irish racers kept impressive hours for the team in first place!

I'm sure the B&B ladies were displeased.

The next day the race was run during the day, as usual, and I had more time to snap some pictures.

This is my reading nook in the back of the 4Runner. (And coffee! The first day I never found coffee!):

One of the rally rules is that when you are refueling your "vehicle" someone must be standing by with a fire extinguisher. I thought our gas cans and fire extinguisher could keep an eye on each other while I read.

Normally no one is around to take a picture of me, so I got a self portrait:

Then Seth came back and one of the other riders took our picture before we left! I was so excited!
Look at Seth's gnarly beard!

Homeownership

2011-01-22T12:04:00.000-05:00

Today was an interesting day in the neighborhood.

Our Internet service provider was sending out a crew to check on the unbearabley slow internet conditions that have been causing much distress in my work day for a few weeks now. I had totally forgotten, but the man we bought our house from works for our Internet service provider, and lo and behold, he's the guy they sent! (Actually, he told me, he kind of just tagged along on the visit to see what we've done with the place.)

They showed up around 9:30 this morning.. I introduced Thunder as a friendly but mildly curious dog and led them into the office where my laptop, wireless router and modem are located. I was standing there, took a sideways glance at one of the guys, and thought to myself, "he looks really familia.....oh.....wait....didn't the guy who used to live here work for....ooooooh.....oh my."

As I was thinking this, he said "so, how do you like the place?"
I turned to him and said "Did you used to live here? I was just thinking how familiar you look."
"Yep!"

"Yeeea" That was my brain trying to think of something nice to say.

"Its a nice neighborhood!" he said
"Oh yea! We love it here. It's so quiet," I spouted (100% truth).

After a while, I needed more coffee and they needed to go to the basement and replace a connection somewhere. Ha! Good thing he used to live here and installed them all himself! He knew exactly where everything was. "Do you still have water problems down here?" he asked.

Later, "Did you get a new bathroom sink?"

Later, "I see you replaced the windows! I'll bet this place holds heat great now!"
"Yep, we only go through one tank a year."

Oh my. It was awkward, but it really got me thinking about how much we've actually done to improve this house. And how much it HAS improved. And how REALLY HORRIBLE it was when we first moved in! Sometimes (when the pipes below my sink explode and I spend my lunch half-hour cleaning milky, murky water from the kitchen floor) I forget how amazing it is now in comparison, and that really, I have a lot to be thankful for.

Our history with our house has been a rocky one. It was the only listing that our real estate agent came up with that we actually refused to look at until we were completely desperate. Once we finally did look at it, we were pleasantly surprised by the large yard and the sunny rooms. (Its amazing how large less than a quarter acre can seem when the house is so tiny, and our south facing front windows right on the edge of a hill provide TONS of sunlight, summer and winter!) Even so, it needed a LOT of work.

We have been happily flea free for four and a half years now.

Seth built a new stoop so that we wouldn't fall through the rotting wood of the old one.

We got a new roof, and we had the chimney redone from just under the roof.

Roof and chimney before:

The new chimney!

We got new windows! The old ones had gaps in between them and the house in some places. It was unacceptable to go through a single winter with holes in the house. (Although apparently they had been doing it for years.)

We've redone the bathroom, which used to be unbearably disgusting, and is now just bearably disgusting.

We dug a drainage ditch around the outside of the house and put an underground gutter to route drainage away from our basement door.

We've expanded all the gardens and are putting another out front so that we don't have to mow :) (Thunder has been extremely helpful)

We've redone the office/guest room which used to be a hideous hole of negativity and is now a delightful happy yellow sunny room.

Our latest effort was in redoing the master bedroom, the walls of which I used to try to find faces in (two holes for eyes, one hole for a mouth - sometimes even a nose if I was lucky) which distracted me from reading at night and occasionally gave me nightmares. I chose to use a Shaker color scheme because I find it so intensely relaxing and calming. I love it, and now instead of being distracted by the holes in the wall I am distracted by how perfect it all is!

Slowly but surely, we have been improving our house. In the meantime we've also fallen in love with our yard. Our backyard is sheltered by an enormous sugar maple, the tallest by far in the neighborhood (which makes Seth exceedingly proud). I am in continuous wonder at its life sustaining support. It provides haven for birds and squirrels (and all sorts of insects), shade for the flowers, if we wanted we could tap it for maple sugar... I feel immensely safe under its protection. I sit under the tree on summer mornings with my morning coffee, and usually just stare up through the leaves. It feels like our yard (and us) are a part of a tiny ecosystem completely supported by our maple tree.

Since becoming the occasionally proud owners of an itty bitty home, Seth and I have taken to comparing the size of our house to rooms, or blocks of rooms in other people's houses. For example, I'm fairly certain that our entire house could fit in my cousin Jody's kitchen and living room. We're pretty sure most of our house would fit in Dad and Cindy's new addition. I can tell you for sure, after taking a good long look from across the road, that our entire house would definitely fit within the leaves of our maple tree. (I'm not sure if that speaks to the enormity of the tree or the diminutive nature of our house! Perhaps both.)

Anyway, our occasionally proud moments are becoming more common, and it is exciting! It's easy to be overwhelmed by how much is left to redo, or how much HAIR Thunder gets all over the place (ugh), but when I think back to what it was when we moved in, I can hardly believe how far we've come!

Enough of this philosophical jibber jabber, I have more exciting stories to write!

The Road to Vermont: "How do you know this guy?"

2010-09-08T23:41:00.003-04:00

The Road to Vermont started early. Very early on Saturday morning I heard a crack. The crack raced across the sky and turned into a slow, rumbling boom. Now that I was awake I could hear that there was a deluge happening. I could hear the waves, the rain pounding into the lake. Normally, this would have been the most pleasant thing to listen to, and even to wake up to. I love thunderstorms! I love listening to thunderstorms on a lake! But the thought of going out in the rain, of riding home amidst a thunderstorm, those thoughts kept me awake, and made me pull the thin blanket around me.

Finally I dosed, and then, BANG! another clap of thunder. Its ok though, it will stop before breakfast, its still dark, and it can't rain this hard for that long.

Wrong.

When the wakeup bell rang, I felt as though I hadn't even fallen asleep. It was still pouring. We showered and dressed, I moped, and Seth energetically packed everything up and put it on the couch. "No point in actually putting these on the motorcycles till after breakfast," he said. I agreed completely! 100%! No need to test the waterproof claims of the motorcycle bags until absolutely necessary! After all, my books are in there. I've never heard of anyone packing books on a motorcycle adventure, but that didn't stop me.

We made it to breakfast, and ordered. I ate particularly slowly, hoping that the rain would let up, just a little bit, if we waited a few extra minutes. I even ordered an entire second meal!

It didn't. But at least I stayed long enough to say bye to Lindsay before we left.

Bob felt really bad for us. He didn't even want to drive home in this rain, and he had a windshield, a roof, and a heater (and a defroster)! Rick came in and remarked on the misery of the day, and how horrible the weather was for driving home. I must have accidentally sent a searing glare in his direction, because he turned to me in sudden realization and said "Oh NO! You guys are on the motorcycles!" No one really knew what to say...there was nothing they could do to improve the situation, no aid they could offer. We had gotten ourselves into this situation and we were going to have to get ourselves out!

Reluctantly, we made our final farewells and left the dining room. !!!!! What! Then the rain let up! By the time we got to the cabin it was a mere drizzle! A misting, really! We quickly (and enthusiastically) packed up the motorcycles, got our gear on and headed out. As soon as we got to the beginning of the driveway, it started to pour again. It was ok though, once we were on the motorcycles, it didn't really matter much whether it was raining or not. We followed Bob's Avalanche down the driveway, turned right after them, and followed them for a few miles down the road. I was starting to think the rain was even rather pleasant. The sound of the rain on my helmet was like the sound of the rain hitting a roof in an attic room. "As long as this doesn't put me to sleep," I thought "I could really get used to this!"

By the time we got to the first stop sign, every inch of me was soaking wet. Water was dripping off of my helmet and running down my back (inside the supremely helpful waterproof coat.) I didn't realize how wet I actually was until I tried to stop at the stop sign: my jeans clung to my legs and my shoes squished as they hit the gound.

It was raining so hard. So hard! I was kind of enjoying being wet until Seth turned suddenly and I couldn't brake in time to turn with him. I was fine while we were going, but I was not very happy when we had to stop.

Finally, by the time we got to Owen Sound (about an hour away) it stopped raining and the sun started poking through the clouds. We knew that we were only outrunning the clouds though, and were never sure how far ahead of them we were getting. The day was pretty uneventful. Somewhere that felt like it should have been the middle of Ontario, but in reality was probably closer to Evergreen than to New York state, Seth's route took us on a lot of dirt roads. The dirt clung to our wet motorcycles and clothes, and we got REALLY dirty. (It kind of reminded me of Africa, we got so dirty.) The trip seemed to be going more quickly, since I recognized some of the roads we were on. Finally we stopped for gas and decided to eat our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, ginger snap cookie and water bottles which the Evergreen staff had so kindly packed for us. Seth had kept them in one of the waterproof bags, and they weren't even soggy!! It was amazing. Here are the bikes, and Seth, at lunch. I probably should have had him take my picture too, but I was anxious to get on with it and get to the bloody hotel, so I could lay down for good. 'Til morning at least.

I had started to clean off my headlight when Seth said something like "Wait!! Don't you want to take a picture and document our dirtiness??" Does anyone ever wonder why I love him so? I sure don't. We're like peas and carrots.

After lunch the trip draaaaagged oooon and oooon and oooooooooon. I thought we would neeeeeever get to Brockville, where our hotel reservation was. I kept seeing signs to familiar towns and thinking "Oh! I remember that! That was early in the day last time! Before lunch even! Fantastic!" I think the problem was not so much that these places were really that far away from each other, but that I was just so exhausted that every second felt like a minute, and every minute like an hour. So, obviously it felt like it took MUCH longer to get anywhere! I noticed a lot of Red-Winged Blackbirds in Canada. On the sides of all the roads, before the nicely groomed fields and just in the long grass. They'd fly away as we drove by. I got tired of the Red-Winged Blackbird. I was ready for a new species.

Finally, Seth asked if I would rather take the highway back to Brockville, which would be shorter but I would have to deal with higher speeds, or go the way we came. I picked the highway. At some point I had said something stupid and naive about wanting to avoid the highway at all costs, because Canadians drive like crazy on the 401 across Ontario. Anyway, I picked the highway and we were at the hotel in 20 minutes.

We arrived at the hotel 5 minutes after their restaurant had closed for the evening. We asked the guy at the front desk and he mentioned lots of awesome sounding restaurants where we could go. "Can we walk?" I kept asking? "Hmm, I wouldln't walk. You should drive." He kept saying.

If we hadn't finally coaxed the name of a pizza place that delivered to the hotel, I would not have eaten dinner. I was not getting back on the motorcycle.

Showered, fed, and off the motorcycle, out of wet clothes and finally warm dry and comfortable, I thought I would fall asleep immediately! But then we discovered that "Driving Miss Daisy" was on tv, and I couldn't fall asleep til it was over.

In the morning, I dallied through breakfast again, even though it was a perfectly sunny morning. Once we were done though, I was ready to go and get the rest of the trip over with. The adirondacks were next, and they were the fun part! I couldn't wait to see the serene mountain lake again.

When we reached the border, I was nervous again. Not nervous for me, I was pretty sure I was not going to have any problems. I was nervous about what Seth might do this time. I even considered going before him, just to make sure they weren't already annoyed when it was my turn. I didn't though. I stopped dutifully at the stop sign and let him go ahead. I don't know what they asked him, but when I got up to the guy, he was chuckling, and said "So how do you know this guy?" with a nod in Seth's direction. Perplexed, I stated, "he's my boyfriend."
"Yea," he said, "and you live in Vermont? How'd you get to Vermont?"
"He is going to grad school there." I said, quite honestly.
"That bike looks a little big for you." he said, as I tried to get off. "Are you going to fall over?"
"Maybe!" I said.
"Why did you get such a big bike?"
"Well, It is fine when we're riding, we don't usually do a lot of stopping and standing. We've been trying different things though to make it shorter. We lowered the triple clamps in the front and got the seat cut down. We need to get a new shock in the back, or smaller wheels...."
"But you haven't yet?" he said.
"No."

(?? What a jerk! ??)

"Yea, have fun, don't fall over." he said, and that was the end of my border patrol interview.
I got up to Seth, and he said "Was that guy a prick to you too?"

Apparently when he asked Seth how he got to Vermont, Seth's response was "I drove??"

We got lost in western New York. Apparently Seth was planning on "having fun" on the way home and taking some winding dirt roads instead of the main, direct road. It didn't work out very well and I became increasingly annoyed each time I had to pull a U-turn in the middle of a road. Eventually we made it back to the Adirondacks and it was peaceful again. We stopped for lunch in Saranac Lake, and stopped to take pictures of the Ski Jumps in Lake Placid.

This isn't the greatest angle, but from on the road you can see how towering they are!

At the ferry there was a tremendous line of cars again. It took an hour or so to cross, but we got to stand on the ferry instead of sitting on the bikes, so that was good. Once we got into Vermont, there were Chickadees flying out of the roadside bushes instead of Red Winged Blackbirds. They made me smile, and I felt instantly at home. The mountains were familiar. The manure smell hanging in the air smelled like hay instead of like insipid waste. The Green Mountains are soo pretty! I smiled from the time we got into Vermont until the time we got home. It was by far the best part of the entire ride.

"Why do we ever even leave?" I thought to myself.

As soon as we pulled into our driveway it started to rain.

How Did I Get So Tan? Evergreen

2010-09-08T21:30:00.004-04:00

The moment we pulled in to Evergreen resort was an interesting one this year. We were an hour and a half late for dinner, my butt hurt more than I'd ever imagined was possible (I'd been standing on the foot-pegs of my motorcycle for the last four hours or so because my butt hurt from sitting on my insanely stiff motorcycle seat, but had to sit down at red lights, stop signs, and when my thighs started to ache). My brain was completely fried from taking in and dealing with so much sensory information all day. As soon as I saw the sign at the end of the driveway my heart skipped a beat, and the smile returned to my road weary face.

As we passed the lodge I saw Paul, Julie and Kris walking towards us and waving, and I almost didn't even care. (Almost.) My highest priority was to get off that blasted motorcycle! We made our way slowly (painfully slowly) to the cabin, parked, and got off - deliberately, sorely. I carefully took the helmet off of my pinched head, removed the gloves from my strangled hands and let my weary gaze rest on the sparkling water of the peaceful Lake Huron.

Photo by The One and Only Paul F. Schroder, 2008, after successfully summoning the clouds.

I had forgotten how hungry I was, until the last remaining whiffs of dinner floated into my nostrils. My brain managed to register that my neglected dinner would be delicious and it became the top priority!

The yorkshire pudding, roast beef and green beans were indeed delicious. And the company was excellent!

The next day was Father's Day, and after lunch we played a rip-roaring game of volleyball. It seems there is always one person in this game who actually cares to win. That person is never me, but he was on my team, and I think I played better because of it. Well, I tried harder because of it. As usual, I didn't play all that well and felt maybe they were doing better before I joined, until I served. My underhanded serve is apparently a sleeper, and never fails to make a few points. People usually look at me in astonishment!

Anyway, I don't remember who won, but it was fun, and sandy! Afterward we cooled off in the pool (or did we warm up in the pool? I can't remember if the water was hot or cold that day). Evergreen's pool is so relaxing. You float around staring at a crystal blue sky, listening to the wind rustle through the birch trees and the shrieks of the children at play (and "the outboard motors, chugging down the bay"). Then you get smacked in the side of a head with a beach ball that someone threw at you. (Ahem. Someone here being Kris or Paul. Or Seth now. Why did I bring him again?) Oh! Apparently we're playing a game here. We looked at the clock to see that it was almost time for dinner, and the old familiar thought wandered into everyone's minds (except Seth, because he's never been before): "It is only SUNDAY! We get to do this ALL WEEK!"

At night we played cards. Usually "Oh Heck," which has mysteriously turned into "Oh Hell" now that we are all old enough to hear such words uttered out of our parents' mouths, so that everybody could join in the fun. (Oh Hell allows many, many players and is pretty easy to teach.) Doesn't Julie look excited? If not, it is probably because Kris is undoubtedly cheating.

During the day we did lots of things. Mostly, we played cards. (Are you shocked?) The highlight of our card playing silliness was when Kris, Paul, Seth and I were playing spades one afternoon. Kris, who was my partner, went Blind Nil (bidding that he would get zero tricks before looking at his cards) and Paul, who was Seth's partner, also went Blind Nil. Talk about suspense! Paul is so afraid in this picture! The hand took forever because we couldn't stop laughing long enough to play our turns. Maybe Paul can fill us in on who made it and who didn't, because I apparently have a knack for forgetting the outcome of competitive matches.

On Wednesday morning Paul joined the kiddies for some fun in the sun. He braved the early morning hour (10am), the frigid lake, chilly air and the scorching sun for some water skiing and tubing. Unfortunately he skedaddled out the door before anyone could rouse themselves out of slumber enough to remind him to put sunscreen on, and he got toasted pretty quickly. Look! Paul's the tallest kid on the raft!

Later in the week Seth and I rented a motorboat. :-O I always thought you needed an adult for this, but it turns out some people consider me an adult! Darcy was giving us the temporary boating license run down, and I felt like I was really getting away with something. Surely he remembered that I'm just one of those kids who admires his mad dance skills, and maybe he was just letting me sneak out on a motorboat? Seth must look like he knows what he's doing. Anyway, we took Dad and Cindy out after dinner and had a great time! I haven't been out on Lake Huron in a motorboat in ages! The water is so clear! Seth was flabbergasted by the clearness of the water. We spent some time looking for the shipwreck, but didn't find it. Seth really thought we would find it, I knew better. (We've never found it before, I didn't see why Seth's presence would change that...)

Oh Evergreen, how I miss you!

This island was gross though. I'm glad I don't live on it! I couldn't take swarming bugs.

I love this picture...

According to my research, that bird is a Double Crested Cormorant.

We stayed out for a while...

One night no one showed up for Cheesetime, so we had other snacks instead. (Other, in this sentence, should be said in as snooty a tone as possible.) When Cindy went to bed, Dad and I taught Paul and Seth how to play 500. It was the only game of 500 of the entire week, which was sad. (Lana! Laurie! Jody! Anne! We need you back!)

It appears that Seth is the only person in this picture who doesn't have a mouthful of snacks. Shocking!

This year's table:

Uh-Oh, I had forgotten about these. I was not enthused. (I am now though! So enthused that I am trying to talk Seth into a cross-country motorcycle honeymoon to see the Redwoods, while he maintains that a tour of Europe would be more appropriate.)

Stay tuned for more gory details about our wonderful, exciting, and non-eventful trip home.

Motorcycle Adventures of Seth and Joanna

2010-06-28T23:55:00.002-04:00

I don't have a lot to say about our motorcycle adventure to Canada. I did have thoughts about the differences of the road via motorcycle and the road via automobile, and the virtues of the scenic byways of our country, but in the end I was so exhausted that I don't remember any conclusions I may have come to!

SO! Since I am not gutsy enough or stupid enough to take pictures while I'm riding my motorcycle, I have a mixture of pictures and cartoons for your viewing pleasure.

We got a late start and hadn't eaten all day, and discovered we were hungry before we had gotten passed Montpelier. So we had to stop to eat at Samosa Man:

Lake Champlaign Ferry:

The Adirondacks are so peaceful and serene! (Even all the cars from New Jersey were driving in a relatively calm manner.)

Stopped for dinner in Potsdam, NY:

Upon questioning, Seth tries to explain why we went the way we did:

Western NY has the most ridiculously marked turns. Some are marked with bright yellow arrows all the way around a tiny curve in the road, and ninety degree turns are not marked at all. It was getting dark and frustrating (especially since Seth was way ahead with his super bright light):

I've been nervous about the border crossing for months, but I was calm when we got to the border. They stopped us on both the U.S. and the Canadian side, which I thought was abnormal. The U.S. lady asked what was leaving the country. "Nothing that is staying in Canada" I said. "What's staying in Canada?" she snapped. "NOTHING!" I shouted from behind my helmet. She glared at me and waved me on.

The bridge to Canada was a singing bridge. I remember distinctly the first time I crossed the blue bridge in a car, and it is even worse on a motorcycle. There is no getting used to it. Especially with a speed limit of 25, I was terrified that my bike was just going to slide out from under me and I would go sliding off the bridge.

When I got to the other side Seth was talking to a border guy, and I stopped dutifully at the stop sign. Seth was getting off his bike and taking his helmet off. Then he started to make funny motions with his hands. Then I saw him get a map out and hold it up across his chest with a finger pointed towards the Bruce Penninsula! Later he said that when he got off the motorcycle the border guy said he had to stand on the other side of his motorcycle. Seth's response was to sniff his armpits and say "Do I smell that bad?!" Apprently, the border guy was not amused. I told Seth to stop messing with border control.

Aaat Laaaaaaast...

Kentucky Derby Party in Vermont

2010-06-15T17:47:00.003-04:00

I have always wanted to have a derby party. In Kentucky it is perfectly normal and easy to have a derby party, of course, but in Vermont I wasn't really sure how it would be received. I was going to have a party last year and was all excited, and then at the last minute I was sent on a business trip the weekend of the derby. Hmph.

This year I was determined to have a party. Regardless of whether anyone in Vermont had ever heard of the derby, cared about it, or thought that horse racing was animal torture, I was going to have a derby party and they were going to like it! One day when we were at Seth's cousins' house for dinner I invited everyone to our derby party. "What's a derby?" "Will there be horses there?" "Why have a party if you don't have any horses?" were the questions I got, mostly from Seth's great-aunt.

Then I had to decide what kind of party to have. Should it be a fancy party where everyone dresses up and wears fancy hats, and we have a delightfully southern and delicious dinner? I loved that idea. Or, should we have an "infield" style party and just have a barbecue? I wanted to wear a hat though! Suddenly a light bulb went off and I thought perhaps I could have both! Since Seth of course has no interest in dressing up, he could grill outside! There could be horse shoes and games and an "infield" party! Meanwhile, inside I could wear a dress and heels and a big hat, decorate with roses and fine china.

Then I had an epiphany. If I did that, Seth would have a party outside while I sat inside by myself, so I just turned the whole thing into a casual grill out where we would watch the derby, drink bourbon and gamble. (Isn't that what it's all about anyway?)

Next, I had to solve the problem of hats. I wanted to wear a big fancy hat. I didn't want to be the only one wearing a hat, but I'm pretty sure most Vermonters don't stock up on fancy hats. (Judging by the hat selection at stores up here, I'm fairly certain they don't!) What if I had hats for them to wear? Would they wear them or would they think they were silly? I didn't have the slightest idea, but I do have lots of hats, so I probably shouldn't have worried about it as much as I did. I decided I was going to buy myself a new hat for the occasion, and I found an awesome straw hat on Etsy that I was going to buy when I found another felt hat that looked like I would probably actually use it every day. I got that one instead, and it wasn't perfect for a derby party, but it is perfect for camping, Seth's motorcycle races, and keeping my face pale, which is one of the major goals of my life.

Theme and hats were sort of taken care of, so then I turned to decoration. I got a dozen roses and put them on the table which I was using for a buffet. I took the label off of Classico tomato sauce mason jars and used them as vases. Then I put bourbon bottles in between them, and placed my Kentucky historic license plate (from Grandpas model T) against the window behind the table. I made "flags" of some of the different silks out of construction paper and hung them around the dining room. In an attempt to recreate these lanterns I used more Classico mason jars with seed starting soil, granite and marble gravel from our walkway to keep the candles in place, and set several of these lanterns up outside. It was going to be lovely!

I decided on the menu - some kind of couscous salad, kabobs hamburgers and hotdogs, salad, potato salad, and cherry supreme for dessert! I also got a bourbon slush recipe from Teri and garnished it with mint. (One the advantages of a Kentucky derby party in Vermont - everyone just assumed that this was mint julep, and since I could make mint julep, I was the real deal, whatever that means!)

Finally, the day of the derby arrived. Seth's cousins arrived, and I was delighted that people actually wanted to watch the pre-derby coverage! They placed their bets and settled in. Then someone who works with Seth arrived with his wife and his dog. They extolled the mint julep, asked for the recipe, put some beer in the refrigerator, placed their bets and then left. (Apparently when Seth originally invited them to a Kentucky derby party they thought he was joking, and made other plans.)

After watching the coverage for a while, the women lamented that they hadn't brought any hats! This was my big break! I got out my hat and some hats for them to wear, and they were so excited! Seth's great-aunt Sandy refused to wear a hat, but that was ok because I didn't have a hat that she would have enjoyed. Hannah's boyfriend took our picture:

Our neighbors Bob and Doreen arrived, and then the party really started! Bob bet on Super Saver because he knew that the jockey had won before, and won one of the other Triple Crown races as well, but on a different horse. He also bet on him because he wanted the jockey to win because he reminded him of Gomer Pile! We drank some bourbon slush, some bourbon, decided to fire up the grill and eat before the race, and had a great time!

The race came on and we huddled in our tiny living room in front of our tiny TV for the most exciting two minutes in sports! Super Saver won, and we all watched and were entertained as the jockey was interviewed and did indeed remind us all of Gomer Pile.

Then we just continued as usual with a pre-summer grill out. We were sitting around outside and I had just lit my lovely lanterns when it started raining cats and dogs! Seth's friend Gavin arrived with two unknowns from Burlington right after the race was over, and I was a little worried our tiny house wouldn't be able to handle the crowd!

We drank more bourbon slush, more bourbon, some beer and a little wine, ate dessert and everyone fell into deep philosophical conversations about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. (Except me, I pulled a Mom and started cleaning before everyone left, snatching barely empty glasses of bourbon out of people's hands and promising them clean glasses coming soon!) Everyone seemed to have a good time though, except one of the unknowns who had a little too much bourbon slush and accused us all of being racist for unknown reasons and wanted nothing more than to leave. Then he remembered he had to drive back to Burlington with Gavin and accused him of being a chatterbox who never stopped and wanted nothing more than to stay with us. He seemed to be stuck between a rock and a hard place, and was not a happy soul.

Since everyone had such a good time, and now that I know some Vermonters at least have heard of a Kentucky derby party, my party will now be an annual tradition, and everyone is welcome! The more the merrier!

Success!

2010-06-02T14:35:00.002-04:00

Sometime in January our bedroom light stopped working. It was part of a ceiling fan, and since we just had the electric redone we figured it was the fan, not the wires. I didn't want to get a new one until we redid the ceiling though, because I just couldn't bear the thought of putting a nice brand new fan up on our hideously tiled ceilings.

So at the end of February when Seth had a few weeks off we decided to take it on! We spent another Friday night at Home Depot, and the hardest part (for me) was picking out colors. I had an idea that I wanted to make the room a "Shaker" room, with the walls whitish and the woodwork darkish. Of course, when I get the chance to paint something darkish, its going to be blue. But what shade of blue?! There were so many! Georgian Bay, Loyal Blue, Loch Blue, Oceanside, Manitou Blue...and then the blues turn into blue-greens, and those look nice too! Lakeshore, Grand Canal, Rocky River, Underseas. Before I know it, I'm looking at green-gray colors called Sea Salt, Comfort Gray and Spare White.

At this point it becomes obvious that if I don't get help soon, I will be there for hours, locked in indecision and becoming more panicked by the moment, eventually decide that I can't decide and the project will never even get off the ground. So I called Mom! She has lots of experience choosing colors, and all the colors in her house are PERFECT. She also understands the importance of the color's name, which is something Seth will never understand.

Mom steered me away from the pale icey blues and greens that I was leaning towards for the "whitish" color of the wall, insisting that as a Vermonter I wanted a warm color to make the house seem nice and warm all winter long, and told me to pick the warmest white that I could possibly stand. I finally picked one called Honey Milk, which is a delightfully warm name, even though the color is basically the coolest warm white that was available (compromise). With that in hand it was easier to pick a blue, because some of them just didn't match. I ended up with a color called Empire Fleet Blue, which is an ok name, as it harkens back to days of yore, even if it is not as splendidly delightful as Honey Milk.

Then the real work began. We had to screw the drywall into the ceiling, which was difficult because we couldn't find any of the studs. (We had decided to put the drywall overtop of the ceiling tiles that are up, hoping that the room would be better insulated that way.) Of course, that took longer than usual. Then Seth got to plastering, and while I worked he plastered, sanded, plastered, sanded, plastered, and sanded. We didn't think he would ever be done plastering the seams! It didn't help that it was February, and the room has two outside walls. It took forever for the plaster to be dry enough to sand! (I even turned the heat up so that it wouldn't go below 65!)

Then Seth built new window moldings! With the next two pictures you can see how ridiculous the current window moldings in our house are. The edges are not mitered so the corners do not meet up correctly. It drives me crazy on an hourly basis. So to me the new moldings are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, even though they are not fancy. There isn't anything fancy about a Vermont house anyway.

Delightful!

Once we did all of that, I primed and painted the ceiling, the walls, and all of the new woodwork! Painting is my favorite part, but at this point, we couldn't wait for the whole project to be finished. We were getting kind of cramped sleeping with Thunder in the living room. I was tremendously worried about the warmth of Honey Milk, thinking it would be too dark for my liking. As I rolled it carefully onto the walls I was delighted. It was the perfect color! Just perfect! Pretty quickly I could tell that when it dried it was a shade darker. I really couldn't figure out if I liked the color or not. Then I painted the woodwork (I was pretty confident in the color of blue I chose) and was appalled! I had inadvertently chosen Foreign Auto Blue for my bedroom! I started to think I'd been brainwashed, and began to fear that whenever I walked into my room my brain would make me think I smelled oil, sweat and gas. Then as it dried it darkened into the perfect color of blue.

Finally, it was time to work on the floor. The wooden floors of both of the bedrooms in our little house are in poor shape. It seems the previous owners didn't believe in putting drop cloths down when they painted or plastered (or being careful enough not to require a drop cloth), and they also apparently rolled paint on quite quickly, resulting in tiny little specks of white ALL OVER the floors. And some multi-colored streaks here and there...and drip spots everywhere. We just had to redo the floor. Seth spent a bit of time researching non-smelling floor solutions - February = closed windows - and came up with Monocoat, which is a new fangled eco friendly product that only requires one coat (who woulda thunk!) and doesn't smell. Once you order and get it, and read the directions, you realize you may have been better off dealing with chemicals, neuro-toxins, brain damage and multiple coats, rather than deal with the exacting specifications and potential disaster that Monocoat could create!

We sanded the floor with building apprehension that we were doing a lot of work that might end up being a sticky catastrophe.

Monocoat works by bonding with the very top layer of wood, on a molecular level, which means that if there is ANY dust on the floor, it will bond with that instead, turning into a sticky mess that will come up when you walk on it or when you mop or sweep. The thought that we could do this whole process, let it dry for days and then it could just not even work terrified me. It came with a special cleaner to get all the dust off of the floor, and Seth and I spent hours applying it until the rags and cloths came up clean. Even then, if we left it for an hour and started to clean it again, the cloths would be brown again. I was afraid that it might be impossible to make our floor clean enough to accept the stain.

Finally, we decided the floor wasn't going to get any cleaner than it was and went for it! The instructions say to apply tiny amounts with a squirt bottle and then to use a buffer to spread it around.

We let it dry for what seemed like ages.

After all that, we finally had a new ceiling fan! The new ceiling fan works so much better! It moves tons of air and is SO quiet! It is so exciting to have a nice bedroom! Sometimes I just lay on the bed and look around at the ceiling which is a single white swath of plastered drywall, the walls which have no holes in them, and the floors which have no white specks. Then I smile and go to sleep.

UPDATE: Another "direction" of monocoat is that you can not mop it for three weeks after application. So, five weeks later I mopped it for the first time, and it resulted in a MUCH less intense reddish color, and a bunch of footprints all over the place. I love the color, and the footprints make me laugh. We'll see if they go away over time, or if we need to get an area rug! Also, both colors are absolutely perfect!

Camping at the Waterbury Reservoir

2010-04-28T18:39:00.001-04:00

Last weekend we decided we should go camping. Seth has a tent and two sleeping bags that he brought up with him during the big move, and we've never used them! Pitiful. So we spent Friday evening searching for a place to camp that was open during mud season, would be relatively secluded (we don't really like other people all that much) and would accept Thunder for all that he is(n't).

We actually searched for quite some time before we came across a little blurb on backpacker.com that had a map of a hike with a campsite near the Waterbury Reservoir. When Seth tried to put the coordinates of the campsite into his GPS it told us it was in the middle of the lake. So, we weren't entirely sure how accurate the map was, how old it was or if someone just made it up for fun, but we were not to be intimidated! We concluded that it couldn't be THAT hard to find and everything was decided.

We spent Saturday morning getting everything we needed together: food for dinner friday night, our little camp stove, gas for the stove, sleeping bags, the tent, warm clothes...and packing it all into the two backpacking style backpacks that Seth also conveniently brought with him. We got some lunch, made a last minute trip to the grocery store so that we could have fake mashed potatoes and cheese for breakfast (fake mashed potatoes have never been found in my house before, and never will be again...unless it is for breakfast in the mountains, and that's all I have to say about that) and we were getting ready to leave the house by 2pm. (We were shooting for 1pm...not too horrible!) We got to the parking area around 2:45 and were on the trail soon after.

I was so excited! I have never been REALLY camping before! I've been camping in a tent in Dad's backyard and basement, I've been camping in a hut and cooking over the fire with Mom on various occasions, but I've never combined the two, carried everything I would need into the woods and stayed there for an extended period. Seth found this appalling and we were discussing it when I stopped abruptly and announced "I didn't pack the matches! I forgot them!"
"Well we need matches," Seth said, "maybe there are some in the car."

We went back to the car and found no matches. It took about 15 minutes to corral Thunder back into the car, he was not pleased. We went off in search of the closest gas station, where Seth asked if they had matches and they handed him a booklet for free.

Back to the parking area...3:30: Take Two!

Thunder bounces out of the car, Seth and I get our packs back on and we take off...again! I was so excited! I've never REALLY been camping before, which Seth found appalling. We resumed our conversation and within a few minutes the trail dead ended into the lake. Hmm. "I think we should have taken the middle route." Seth said, referring to the least visible of three sets of tracks branching off at the beginning.
"OK"
We headed back and took the middle route, which took us through a few open fields, across a mucky area of standing water, and up a steep hill before it connected to the first route, which was an old logging road.

So we're on the first trail, apparently the only one worth pursuing. Smaller paths keep branching off of the main trail and at first we take them all, because we weren't really sure where the campsite was. All we knew was that it overlooked the reservoir and that it was near Cotton Brook. All the little trails brought us back to the main one though, so we started to stick with it. (We are really fast learners...)

Eventually the trail split into two, and both were equally large. Which way should we go!? Seth pulled his GPS out and we noticed that we were almost to the brook, and almost to the point where we thought the campsite might be, so we took the one that veered towards the reservoir. Down a steep hill, around a few curves, through an old stone foundation and across a few logs and our hopes were fulfilled. I could hardly believe how awesome the campsite was, and how lucky we were that there wasn't anyone else there!

This is the view of the campsite from the trail, although I took this picture after we had already set up the tent and everything. What a fire pit!

We picked a spot for the tent, and set it up, then collected firewood. Thunder was in heaven, and immediately ran down to the lake to splash about. Then he ran back with us to collect firewood. On the walk to the camp he kept picking up large sticks in his mouth and dragging them down the road a ways, and we were hoping that if we picked up sticks and brought them to the fire pit he would catch on and help out. He didn't. Then we went down to check out the lake. The campsite was right on a point so we had several different views of the reservoir, and a few hundred feet away the roaring Cotton Brook fed into the lake. It was idyllic! "I'm surprised you're not documenting everything," Seth said, since I hadn't gotten my camera out yet.

"There's plenty of time! I said, "We have all night!"

Since he brought it up, I got my camera out and we sat down by the lake watching Thunder run and play to his heart's content.

He DOES like to chew on sticks, even when they are sticking out of the water. Look at the lovely spring leaves! Soon they will be covered in snow, although no one knows that yet.

Since we could hear the stream raging we thought we would go check it out, so we went exploring and found lots of fun things!
Fiddleheads are ferns that are just uncurling for the spring. They are the herald of spring in Vermont and it is common for fishermen to eat them with the first catch of the season.

This is the stream as it is about to meet the reservoir. I love the new leaves on the tree, just starting to come out!

Another view of spring greenery from the point:

After we had had our fill of exploring we started a fire and made dinner. It was the first time we had ever used our little camping stove and it took a few tries to figure it out. But we got it and had a gourmet meal of sauteed/steamed vegetables and instant rice. Then we sat by the fire, then we went to bed.

When we got in the tent, Thunder huddled at the very far end, away from either of us, curled up and fell asleep. We thought it was abnormal because he usually likes to curl up on top of our legs because it is warmer. Oh well, we all fell asleep to the quiet night noises of early spring. As he drifted off, Seth said "Aren't you glad I have all of these toys?" "YES!" I exclaimed, and then I was so excited that I couldn't sleep right away. I lay awake for a while listening to the silence that can occur when a region has no crickets.

I woke up in the wee hours when the sky was still dusky and found Thunder was laying in between Seth and I, with his entire upper body draped over my legs, and his head resting on my foot. It was very warm with him there, but my legs were both asleep and the added pressure was uncomfortable (it felt like he had been there quite some time). I tried to move my leg and couldn't, so I reached an arm out of my sleeping bag and tried to push him off. I don't know if I was weak in my state of awakesleep, or if Thunder was determined to stay where he was, but I couldn't budge him! Apparently I was causing quite a commotion because Seth woke up and asked what the trouble was. I told him I was trying to get Thunder off my legs.
"I thought you wanted him there!"
"I did, but now it hurts!"
"Ey, ey, ey!"

Seth moved him, and Thunder curled up again at the far end of the tent with a sigh of extreme dissatisfaction. We all fell back asleep.

I woke up again and could feel Thunder curled up against my side, trembling. "Oh NO!" I thought, "I made him move from his nice warm spot and now he is freezing! What a horrible person I am!"
I reached down to pet him and tried to warm him up, but I kept falling asleep again, only to be woken up by his violent trembling against my side. I tried to wrap my sleeping bag around him but he wanted nothing to do with it, and moved back against the far end of the tent.

Next time I woke up I could tell that the sun was up. I sat up and saw Thunder sitting up at the far end of the tent, staring at me, as though he had been sitting there willing me to wake up. I smiled. Thunder and I looked over at Seth. Thunder was willing him to wake up because he knows if Seth wakes up, everyone gets up, but if Seth doesn't wake up, Joanna goes back to sleep. That's the way it works around here! Seth woke up, and unzipped the tent so that Thunder could get out. He was out of there like a streak of lightning, and within seconds I could hear him splashing in the lake!

Seth restarted the fire and I started up the stove to cook our fake mashed potatoes with cheese. I heard a woodpecker's pecking across the lake, and instinctively looked to see where Thunder was. I spotted him out by where the roaring brook meets the lake, staring intently across to the other side (where the woodpecker sounded). Then he barked at the woodpecker, and his bark echoed several times all through the hills surrounding the lake. Then he barked at all these unseen fellow dogs who were barking at him! NO ONE barks at Thunder on HIS lake! He barked at his echo for about a half an hour until we couldn't take it anymore and Seth bribed him back to camp with some treats.

Then we had to take some more pictures. (Have to document the morning as well!) I couldn't stop laughing when this picture turned out:

I just can't believe that Thunder is looking at the camera and sitting still! That NEVER happens! Then I finished my tea,

took one last shot,

and then we we packed everything up and headed back to the car.

On the way back, we noticed that Thunder's tail was no longer curled up and wagging like it normally is, but was stuck between his legs, even when he came up on other dogs to play with. Once before, when we took him out for a hike in pretty deep snow, this happened, and he couldn't lift his tail for a few days. Apparently running free for a whole day, and spending a lot of time wading in the water had pooped him out! When we got home, I let him out on his lead, and he laid down in the grass. He was sitting more upright, and I watched from the door as his eyes sloooowly drooped, and once his lids were closed he would wakeupwithastart! And then his eye lids would slooooooowly droop, and finally he fell over in this position and didn't bother to get up:

(As of Wednesday, Thunder still cannot raise his tail. It has started wagging again, but not in its normal violent fashion!)

The TruGreen Man

2010-04-22T21:03:00.002-04:00

Earlier this week I decided to move to the dining room window while I work, to take advantage of a particularly warm looking sunbeam that comes through it every morning. (It may be spring, I guess, but my office seems to trap cold air.) So anyway, while I've been basking in the sun and working at the same time, I've felt a little like Rachel in Anne of Green Gables sitting in my window and watching over the neighborhood.

I've been noticing that a LOT of people walk up and down our road during the day, which surprised me, because depending on which way you turn at our driveway, the road is either a dead end or a circle...I'm not sure where all these people are going. Today I saw a man in tan pants and a green polo shirt walking up the hill, and I looked over at him, but tried not to stare (Rachel is not my favorite character in Anne of Green Gables). In taking periodic sideways glances at this guy, I finally noticed that he was staring at ME! After standing in the middle of the road for a minute or two, looking towards my house, he started walking towards the driveway!

"Oh no," I thought, "Now I'm going to have to talk to him."

Knock Knock Knock

"WOOF!" Tick tick tick tick tick

(that was Thunder running to the door)

Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniffsniffsniffsniff: Thunder's nose sticks out as I crack the door open. "Hello?"

"Uh, I'm the TruGreen representative for this area," he said. I looked down at the fliers he was carrying. "Oh! Uh, here ya go!" he handed me an enormous green flier with an image of perfectly trimmed blades of grass. I looked at it for a few seconds and seemed to gather himself together. "Are you the owner of the house?!" he demanded.

"Yes," I responded.

"How do you treat your lawn?"

I looked around at our overgrown grass, which I've been known to consider the bane of my existence, and noticed a few dandelions poking up here and there, violets sprouting all over the place. "Um, we just mow it." I said.

"Well!" he said "TruGreen offers lots of solutions for yards."

"Oh?" I tried to sound encouraging.

"Yes, for instance, dandelions, crab grass, we have lots of weed control. We can make your lawn look more like a golf course!" I could see terror in his eyes, and I could tell (from personal experience) that his mouth had gone dry and he was having troubles moving his tongue. It was like watching myself go on a sales call. Uncanny. I couldn't help feel sorry for him. But I do love my violets, they're my favorite afterall, and I'm not going to let some dude in trousers and a green shirt kill them.

"Hmmm," my internal struggle roared through my vocal chords.

The poor guy. I guess he could have figured out by looking at my yard that we don't use any kind of weed killer, but he didn't, and he seemed to truly think I needed help. Obviously, my lawn needs assistance:

But look at all the flowers! Along with exploring creeks and building forts, playing with mud and all sorts of other abnormal things, Little Joanna wanted nothing more than for her yard to be a meadow full of wildflowers. I'm pretty sure that this is as close as I'm going to get. Look at the violets!

But the TruGreen man can't know that. He sees probably what my neighbors and my uncle Fred would see: a lawn in serious need of an overhaul. While I've been ruminating about dandelions being giant suns, violets being my favorite flower, and grass the ugliest weed in existence, the TruGreen man has been staring at me silently. When I finally snapped back to reality, he had a panicked look on his face. "Well, have a good day!" he said, turned around, and walked away.

Poor feller, he seemed kind of new to the job. Maybe I was even his first call! If so, I let him down tremendously. I should have encouraged him a bit more, but I didn't want to antagonize him and tell him that I like my dandelions and violets:

How can anyone say no to this mass of white flowers in their lawn? I don't even know what they are, and honestly they are kind of ugly. But they are flowers, and I use them as an excuse not to mow the lawn.

Flowers, Snow, and Chocolate Chip Cookies

2010-04-16T16:32:00.001-04:00

This past week has been so sunny and warm. I might have forgotten we are in Vermont if it weren't for the perpetual chilly breeze, and the nagging thought that I can't grow a dogwood tree. I had the delight of sitting outside every day for lunch, basking in the glory of the sun's intense heat and watching as the tiny buds on my flowers started to get bigger and bigger. I was so excited for my favorite flowers to burst open!

I decided I was going to try to start some seeds this year, as I've been accruing quite a collection of seeds Mom gets from her plants and mails to me. I got some seed starter and a plastic thing to put them in, and planted them. I've been watching their progress with intense interest. If I can grow a plant from a seed, then surely there is nothing I can't do! To prove this point, I found a dogwood bush that will do well in Vermont, so that I can have the best of all worlds. Anyway, I have Larkspur, Columbine, Basil and Lettuce growing. (The Lily seeds have not started to grow yet. I think I waited to long for those.) Here is a lovely little basil seedling. Or is it Larkspur? Honestly they all look the same at this point.

Here is a series in three parts of tiny blue flowers that grow all over my yard and make me despise my lawn mower. Why would anyone want to mow these down!? Luckily my neighbors seem to understand, as none of them have mowed their lawns yet either.

Here we have a little purple bud on the myrtle that is supposed to keep my hill in place. It is trying so hard!

Here is...wait. How did Thunder weasle his way into these pictures! He loves the sun too. He would be content to lay in the sun all day, as long as he got to go for a run at night. He's been basking with me at lunchtime. Sometimes I let him out on his lead, and out of anywhere in a 25 foot radius he often prefers to lay on the stoop lazily soaking in the sun. (Sometimes when I get up from my computer to get a drink, I look at him through the door and jealousy overtakes me!)

Next is a study of the color blue, and of the spicket to our hose. I was thinking of hooking the hose up and using it to water my buds! Good thing I didn't, or the hose would be bursting with ice.

Doesn't it look like spring has sprung? I was conviced. Look at the green! Look at the clear blue sky! Look at the SUN!

Imagine my shock when I woke up this morning to find a lovely blanket of snow over all of this! Oh yea...we do live in Vermont, imagine that! I suppose I can deal with the snow, as long as my budding flowers still bloom when it is gone. I've reached this state of acceptance by making chocolate chip cookies. I like to pretend that I made them for Seth...he's had a rough week at work.

Do you think that these could make you accept snow in mid April covering your lovely flowers and all signs of spring?

Little Joanna!

2010-03-18T01:23:00.001-04:00

The other day Seth and I took Thunder to the park to run about. Since it is mud season now, we had to park at the park entrance and walk up the road to get to any of our usual trails. Mud season can get pretty muddy, and cars are not welcome. A little stream (creek, if you are from Kentucky) runs down alongside the road, and honestly I've never paid much attention to it. We usually drive past it on the way to the parking area.

On our way back to the car we were walking past a family with two daughters. One was older, maybe 9 or 10 (probably 10, she had a very double digit air about her) one was younger, maybe 6 or 7. The older one, as I said, had a double digit air about her, and I imagine she was horrified at the indecency of wearing matching snowsuits as her younger sister. Never-the-less, she wore hers with dignity and tried to paste a smile on her face. The younger sister's snowsuit was quite muddy by contrast, and the coat she was holding was dragging on the ground behind her. She was jumping and running and obviously, was very excited to be outside. At one point, she stepped off the road and into what was left of the melting snow, headed towards the creek. Her mother quickly called her back, she sighed, looked downcast, and said wistfully, "I wish I could take the stream!" (Walk down the creek instead of the road)

"Look!" said Seth, "It's a little Joanna!"

That's all for now.

Valentine's Day on Hunger Mountain

2010-02-25T21:05:00.004-05:00

What better way to spend Valentine's Day than on an adventure somewhere you've never been, with your man and your dog? I can't think of anything better, so that's what I did! Seth and I decided to take our adventuring selves to Hunger Mountain. Aren't we romantic?

(Pardon my messy house, we are remodeling.)

A picture of Thunder in his bright orange jacket has been requested, so I took one:

He has to wear this jacket because he is stupid, and runs out in front of cars whenever he gets the chance. Seth doesn't like it because he thinks it is embarrassing, most other dogs we come across aren't wearing anything remotely similar. But I remind him that Thunder is stupid, and it is better to be wearing a bright orange jacket than get hit by a car. Once in the park a little girl asked her dad why the doggy was wearing "that." The Dad responded "so that everyone can see him!" Seth was mortified. I told him it was a good sign that he knew the real reason he was wearing a bright coat, and didn't respond "because his owner's are weird old ladies."

Anyway, at our house in the valley there was no snow. There had been no snow for some time and we were getting depressed. We'd been wallowing in our lack of typical winter-wonderland Vermont weather, and weren't sure if we should be wishing for snow, or daring to wish that Spring might be coming early this year. We weren't really sure what the snow situation was like in the mountains either, but we were glad to see that there was at least a small layer of snow on the track up to the trailhead.

As we started going up, I kept thinking that this must not be an ideal mountain for skiing. The trail seemed abnormally steep and rocky, and I kept thinking there was no way I was going to be able to ski down it without killing myself. (This is a pretty frequent frame of mind for me on the way up a mountain.) We crossed boulders, gingerly stepped through open creeks whose running water caused snow to stick to the bottoms of our skis, and wondered what was going to happen on the way down as the trail slalomed through trees. It occurred to me that Hunger Mountain is not that inviting to human life. (Maybe that's why it's called Hunger Mountain?)

The wind on Hunger Mountain was like nothing I have ever heard. It roared through the trees, causing them to crack and moan under the pressure. My thoughts ran to the Grimm Fairy Tales, and the legendary Black Forest. I have never before understood why people could see the woods as a place of fright; to me it has always been a retreat. But on Hunger Mountain, I began to understand.

We were having fun though, and Thunder seemed to be having the time of his life! He would scurry past Seth anywhere the trail got a little wider, and come back with a giant stick in his mouth. He would drop it, then immediately begin to hunt for a new stick to run around with. Occasionally he would drop the stick, gallop back to Seth and me, grab the spindly trunk of a sapling sticking out of the snow, and take off. When he realized the sapling hadn't come with him, he would turn around and cock his head in confusion. It seemed like we'd been going up forever when we came upon a sign that let us know we weren't lost. (We knew we weren't lost)

Here is Seth looking down the trail to White Rock, which is only .75 miles away. We decided to stick with the plan (!are you shocked!) and continue up the "Mount Hunger" trail, which was supposedly 1.1 miles long.

We continued heading up the trail for a little while when we came across a giant wall of ice. This is not abnormal in Vermont, and in fact, it was heartening to see normal signs of winter, just so that we knew it still existed. The problem with this particular wall of ice was that the ice continued across the trail in a particularly long narrow section which could only be described as gnarly. Again, I wondered how I was going to get down.

Eventually we came to a section that was so steep there was no way we could get up it with our skis on. Instead of turning back (like I normally would have voted for) we decided that our Valentine's Day adventure needed to be an all or nothing adventure, planted our skis in the snow and continued on foot (in our ridiculous cross-country ski boots). Then we came to a section that was so craggy and icey, I wondered how I was going to get down it in my ski boots! Again it occurred to me this mountain was not very inviting.

At long last, we saw a small wooden sign nailed to a tree that said "Vista" with an arrow pointing to an opening in the trees. We looked over at a wall of white. It was snowing and we couldn't see much past the edge of the cliff. Then I noticed that the trail continued going up past the Vista, and Seth was already halfway up the next steep section.

We kept going up for a while and I was suddenly quite hungry. (Maybe that's why it's called Hunger Mountain?) We eventually came to a place where the trail looked like it was going to start going down the other side of the mountain, and decided to turn around. The woods at the top of the mountain were lovely. Big trees with lots of space in between. I imagine it is idyllic in the summertime.

We stopped for a snack, and even though we kept throwing tidbits to Thunder he amused himself by gnawing on a decaying tree trunk, and spitting out the pieces.

Then we started the much anticipated journey down the mountain. In no time at all I found myself back at the big ice, and ended up taking my skis off to get past it. (I might have given it a go if I had been wearing a helmet, but I had no intention of killing myself on Hunger Mountain on Valentine's Day.) Then, as if by magic, we were down at the trail sign!

"Wow!" I said to Seth, "This trail is AWESOME!"

He agreed, although he had known it would be awesome based on how it was on the way up. "Really?!" I exclaimed, "I kept thinking how awful it was going to be!"

Seth always knows better. That's why I continue to follow him up impossible mountains.

The trail down was so fast and flowey that Thunder didn't have time to torture the saplings, and I didn't have time to worry about how I was getting down the mountain. It was amazing, but before I knew it we were back at the car, packing up to head back home.

On the way we stopped at the grocery and got some nice steaks for dinner. And now, if you'll excuse me, Seth requires my attention (did you know they are changing the rules in Moto GP this year?) and women's figure skating is on. One can only do so many things at once.

The Road back to Vermont -or- Stick to the Plan: A Lesson

2010-02-25T09:37:00.002-05:00

In the early morning mist and fog, with a few residual rain drops dripping here and there, we loaded up the trailer and the 4Runner, and set out on our return voyage. Neither of us were all that excited about it; we had both been craving the rally as an all-to-brief vacation that our sanity depended on. But once the sun came up and the last rain clouds cleared out, it was a rather pleasant drive through the Carolinas.

We had been warned that we might not make it home. As early as Friday night some of the rally racers were getting calls from their wives who wished they'd come home. How dare they leave them alone with the house when there were three feet of snow predicted? How could they?

Jen had spoken with friends in Asheville and found that it was snowed in, and warned us to check online to make sure the highway was open through D.C. I tried to do this, but all I found was a series of links that brought me full circle back to the original webpage without actually giving me any information. So we just kept going, and noticed with growing pleasure the rising piles of snow on the sides of the roads as we sped through Virginia. We weren't really worried. We assumed that all the hullabaloo was caused by people who don't know how to drive in the snow and usually don't have to. We drive in snow all the time. We drive after receiving immense droppings of snow on a regular basis (every year except this year)!

What we hadn't thought of was that the same people who don't know how to drive in three feet of snow also don't have the slightest idea how to clear three feet of snow off the road.

Very abruptly, as though we had crossed some kind of county or city line the road was pocked with several inches of snowy ice slush that had been compacted to form driving surface worse than any dirt road I have ever driven on. When the Car-Pool lanes began they were closed, and we noticed workers aiming heaters out of their trucks at the barriers, which were frozen in the down position. We laughed. It was surprising how bumpy several inch deep ice holes all over the rode made the ride. Traffic had slowed to a crawl. I stared out the window at the road, trying to discern how it got that way in the first place. The road was like a river. Dirty, muddy water was rushing over the top of the ice-field, down the hill. I looked to the side of the road, which was downhill, and noticed water piling up against the concrete barriers on the side, creating a REAL river going in the downhill direction. Even when the concrete barriers were no longer there, where the water normally could have run into the grass, the piles of snow on the side of the road were creating their own barrier and the water had nowhere to go but down. This culminated when we came to an overpass that happened to be at the bottom of two hills: water was accumulating quite quickly, and apparently there was no drainage on the overpass. (?? really? This place was a swamp originally, seems like they would have built with drainage in mind). We drove through six to eight inches of water, and noticed that the bridge was slightly off camber, and the people on the right side were driving through MUCH deeper water. Hmmm.

After three hours of watching people drive like idiots, we made it through DC. When we reached Baltimore there seemed to be more snow on the sides of the roads, but the roads themselves were perfectly clear. How southern Virginia and Maryland can figure out how to clear the streets but Washington DC can't will never make sense to me. Most things in Washington don't make sense to me though, so I guess this was just par for the course.

Things went on nicely after that, until we reached the New Jersey Turnpike and Seth started complaining about the outrageous tolls. He had driven most of the way so far and the DC drivers had left him in a particularly foul mood. We looked at the maps and decided to get off the turnpike and take a parallel road up to the last possible exit to minimize cash loss. This would have been fine if we stuck to the plan, but instead we made last minute decision to get back on the highway sooner and ended up going the wrong way. Then we had to get off (toll) and get back on and go most of the way we had come on the side road, which meant we still had a big toll, and had wasted almost two hours. Oy. If we had stuck to the original plan, of taking the turnpike, we would have been better off. If we had stuck to the secondary plan of getting back on at the specified exit, we would have been better off. But we are stubborn and didn't do any of these things.

The rest of the trip was unpleasant, dark and hungry. We didn't want to stop because we just wanted to get home. (at least we wanted to get home now!)

We finally did make it home around 3:30 am. We will see if we learned our lesson.

And that's all I have to say about that.

South Carolina: Sandblast

2010-02-15T17:09:00.001-05:00

We stepped out of the car in South Carolina and the sweet smell of Barbecue filled our nostrils and invigorated our road weary souls.

I don't even like barbecue, but the air smelled sweet and succulent. We were hungry.

We were here for one purpose: The Sandblast Rally. This was Seth's first year participating in the Sandblast Rally, and we've been excited about it for months! The excitement of being on the road, the exciting smell of barbecue in the air, the exciting thought of Sweet Tea (with no hint of lemon, as in more northern climes) in every restaurant, the excitement of the race...excitement is so exhausting! So after we found some food, we promptly went back to the hotel and took a four hour nap.

While we slept it started to rain. It rained and rained and rained. And then the heavens opened up and it rained as though it would never stop raining. In the midst of all this rain we noticed a Jeep with a trailer in the hotel parking lot. At one point, Seth met the owner of said Jeep and discovered that Jen and James were here for the rally as well! They are from Asheville, and James has the same motorcycle as Seth!

Seth registered and we went out to dinner, and the full glory of real live southern style tea finally hit my mouth.

Mmmm.

'Tis humorous that we met some friends from North Carolina before me move there, and I still haven't met any friends in Vermont after three and a half years...a good sign for the Carolinas.

Friday, steady, heavy, long and straight lines of rain beat in constant rhythm on every rooftop, parking lot, puddle and unfortunate umbrellaless head.

Saturday is race day! How exciting!

A few weeks before the race we discovered that Jonah Street, who raced in the Dakar Rally (and came in seventh this year!) was participating. So Seth was in the same race as a pro-motorcycle racer. Are you shocked? (very!)

Woah Nelly!

James and Seth left on their motorcycles and Jen and I walked down to the starting line to watch the big start.

The motorcycles are off! Jen and I caravan to the pit area, pretending to be important. Then, we wait. Then, we eat lots of homemade chili - for $1 a cup, it can't be beat for warmth. We wait for our men to come back, silently hoping that they will come back, and when they do it will be in the same condition in which they left.

They came back. The only change was a heavy layer of wet, muddy sand covering them and their bikes. Then they left again, and we started waiting again.

Sirens.

Anxiety...the wait. Craned necks as anxious eyes scan the road for signs of motorcycles. Aaaaah and they came back again! Sweet Relief! Laughter unfolds at the thicker layer of mud.

It was a long day of repeating this process.

And the cold! The rally guide informed us that the average in Cheraw at this time of year is 60! While we were there it was in the twenties and thirties. In Vermont this would feel like spring, but we were expecting sixty degree weather, so it felt abnormally cold. As the sun set it got colder.

Jen and I ventured out to one of the spectator areas during one of the longer of our interminable waiting sessions. Seth's movin!

I love pine trees.

Some of the guys on motorcycles didn't have lights, and they finished in the dark, then had to drive back to the pit area. They all made it, but I'm not sure how they did it.

Seth and James got back, and we followed them back to the hotel. At a dinner held that evening for all the participants and volunteers the results were posted, and Seth finished in a decent position. He thinks he's getting the hang of this rally thing, and we can't wait for the next one!

Lastly, Seth has talked me into driving a rally car. I am excited to wear a sweet flame-proof suit and have the first all girl team to finish. All I need is a rally car and the entry fees. Stay tuned for more exciting dreams!

The Road to South Carolina

2010-02-05T10:40:00.002-05:00

Travelling, particularly driving, has always held such freedom and excitement. I've always been amazed that one could start out almost anywhere in the country and follow a continuous line of varying shades of tar and varying versions of a solid white line, and end up nearly anywhere else in the country, or even the continent.

This time our fancy brought us to South Carolina, the goal: 2010 Sandblast Rally. It seems it always takes longer than expected to get going, which really enhances the release of finally getting on the Road. Initial excitement soon gives way to deep satisfaction and devotion to the goal at hand, the goal being the destination, destination being Cheraw (Shur-AW) South Carolina.

Welcome to Massachusetts!

We're not in Vermont anymore...rural fields and pine forests blanketed with a lovely snow give way quickly to billboards, city lights, new-looking (and clean!) cars. Car-pool lanes.

Connecticut Welcomes You.

More developed. You can tell we're getting closer to The City now. Deep satisfaction and devotion to the goal (South Carolina) gives way to late-night, bright-light city philosophy. The kind one could stay up all night discussing at a coffee shop. How can a single united line of tarmac have so many varying qualities as it winds through the country? Is it really so many different roads highways expressways and byways or is it just ONE BIG ROAD? How crazy is it that different parts of the country can have such huge cultural differences? How's a girl to choose anyway? New England and Vermont speak to her soul just as much as North Carolina and the South. New England pros= nor'easters, huge snowfalls, the ever present smell of pine, aaaah lovely summers and beautiful falls. Vermont is heaven. The South? Sweet Tea. What else could a girl possibly want?

The Big Apple, or at least, the Bronx. Real City lights, traffic, and buildings right on top of the expressway.

Awe.

Sleep.

Tolls.

Sleep.

More Tolls.

Why are there so many tolls on the way from Vermont to South Carolina? The Road can be cruel.

Finally it is my turn to drive. A wrong turn, tempers flare. Apparently the philosophic attitude has unexpectedly given way to sleepy edginess.

Seth sleeps - peace.

Washington D.C.

We have to take the outer loop around the city because we have a trailer.

Virginia is for lovers, and heavy, heavy eyelids. Did we just pass the Welcome Center? I don't remember passing one but perhaps I was in a state of awake-sleep. Ha! Awake-Sleep. Maybe Aristotle was on to something with his philosophical meanderings on the physical nature of the world.

Worry.

Can I make it to another? How far will that be? Should I get off at an exit and sleep in a parking lot? That sounds unpleasant, and questionable.

VIRGINIA WELCOME CENTER: 1 Mile.

Sweet Relief! and then, finally, sleep.

Colorado

2010-01-25T21:43:00.001-05:00

This is the view from the top, looking over the back side at Arapaho Basin, in Colorado. I've done a shoddy job of putting it together, but I couldn't remember the tips and tricks that Paul showed me, so...that's my excuse.

Boule Bread

2010-01-25T20:33:00.006-05:00

BREAD! I love bread, and Sunday was a gloomy cold day, (and there isn't nearly enough snow to have any fun!) so I decided I would devote the day to baking a nice, warm, fluffy, soft loaf of bread.

I have never made bread before, except when I made challah for Rosh Hashanah, but never just a normal hunk of delicious bread. You may recall my 25 pound bag of flour. It is still here, down in one of the bottom cabinets with Seth's 25 pound bag of rice. It is maybe possible that we are half way through this bag.

I got this recipe from Tasty Kitchen, a new but not-that-new recipe website started by the Pioneer Woman. The Pioneer Woman leads a fascinating life, takes great pictures, and explains things quite well. Anyway, I wanted to bake a loaf of normal and delicious bread, and I had no idea what to do! So I went to this website to get a recipe. I found one called Boule Bread, and that is what I made.

This is the dough. Mister Motorcycle started talking to me while I was putting the 6 cups of flour in, and I lost track of my counting twice!! (really Joanna? You lost track twice in the process of counting to six? Oy.) I think I managed to still get six cups in, maybe...looks a little moist.

Then you must let it rise for ages and ages. This might be a good time to make a pot of Earl Gray tea, a plate of plain cookies, and get a nice James Herriot book to curl up on the couch with. Warning: If Mister Motorcycle is in the house he may (read: will) steal some of your cookies.

After an agonizing amount of time reading about a country vet trudging around the highlands of Yorkshire drinking black tea, stout beer, and eating lots of freshly baked bread, the dough may be ready!

Only then do you realize that you actually aren't ready to start baking, despite the deceptive sentence in the recipe: "now you are ready to bake!" You have to take out a grapefruit sized ball of dough and form it into a loaf and let it sit for forty more minutes.

I am obviously not an expert here, but I think this dough was pretty wet. I had to coat the outside of it with flour so that it wouldn't clump on my hands. So it sat for forty minutes looking pathetic like this, severely reducing my confidence that I would enjoy my fresh warm bread, if I would get any at all.

Then, finally (its a good thing I had a day to devote to this process!) I baked it, and it came out perfectly!! It was every bit as delicious as I had been imagining all day long, and it really filled me up right before dinner. Mister Motorcycle was using my camera (selling motorcycle parts on ebay) when the bread came out, and by the time it was returned, the bread was about half way gone...soooo, no fresh out of the oven pictures........

Mmmmm, it was so good! And, maybe the best part is that the recipe made more dough than you need so there is still two loaves worth of dough in the fridge waiting up to two weeks for me to make MORE fresh bread!

Cross-Country Skiing!

2010-01-11T00:39:00.004-05:00

I don't remember what made Seth and I look into buying cross-country skis. It may have been after our one and only trip to Bolton Mountain's night time skiing, where they turn some lights on, sell cheap lift tickets and keep the lifts running til nine. Night time skiing didn't seem like anything extraordinary to us, coming from the midwest...most of the skiing we had done at home was done at night.

We quickly discovered why skiing at night in the northeast is a bad idea. It was cold (frigid, actually), it was windy (gusting), and the wind howling up the frozen mountain had blown any loose snow off the trails leaving a single sheet of ice. It was not a pleasant evening of skiing, to say the least.

The first year we lived in Vermont, Seth said that for my birthday we were getting cross country skis. We went to the Outdoor Gear Exchange looking for used sets.They had some for Seth but not for me, so for my birthday I got a brand new pair of skis and Seth got a very used, purple pair. We both got poles, boots, and bindings, and we were all set for our most hilarious and fun adventures.

The cheapest bindings we could get are three pin bindings. Basically, your boots have a rubber tab on the front with three holes in them. You stick those holes into three metal pins sticking out of your bindings and clamp them on. That is your only connection to the ski: a rubber tab clamped down. The very thought of skiing with the toe of your boot clamped to the ski made us laugh and laugh, and we couldn't get wait to get started!

Cross-country skiing is the most fun at night. On our cross country skis we can go up and down hills by ourselves (we don't need the lifts) and we usually go on the same trails that we use in the summer for hiking and mountain biking.Since we're mostly in the woods, we're protected from the gusting wind, and since we're working our butts off, we don't have to worry about being cold! In fact, the best nights to go cross-country skiing are the absolute coldest!! (Or maybe our heads aren't screwed on just right) Anyway, at night we strap headlamps around our woolly hats and all of a sudden the whole world is sparkling. The several feet of snow beneath us are sparkling, the snow hanging in the boughs of the pine trees is sparkling, and if we're lucky, the snow dancing through the air is sparkling too! (Anyone who was lucky enough to get my aunt Alex's Christmas card has an exact image of night time cross-country skiing!)

To add to the general hilarity of cross-country skiing created mostly by how bad we are at it, there is Thunder. Once we let him out of the car he is off! He doesn't stop moving until we manage to coral him back into the car again when we're done. He runs around in circles for a while sniffing all the potential animal tracks there are to follow while Seth and I get our skis on. Once we get our skis on and are ready to go, he bounds off towards the trail, occasionally stopping to make sure we are still going the same way as him. He runs up the trail until he catches a scent, then sticks his head into the ground to get a better whiff. He moves forward a few steps with his head still in the snow and stops to sniff some more. Usually he only takes a few steps off the trail, but occasionally he finds something REALLY interesting and takes off bounding through the snow.

With all this "Arctic Blast" air the weather channel has been throwing at us, Seth and I thought today would be a fantastic day to go cross-country skiing. We went up to Berlin Pond where there is an ancient road that goes up the mountain with trails branching off all over the place. In Vermont, we have "ancient roads" which are old roads that are no longer kept up and are really more like trails now, but that remain on the map, and until they are not published on the map they remain public domain. This particular ancient road and all the land around it has been bought by the state and turned into an awesome trail system. Today we stayed on the trails mostly by following other people's tracks, until they suddenly stopped where there was a big log across the trail. Hmmmm.

We decided to keep going and ended up skiing parallel to a little stream that for some reason hasn't frozen over yet. Eventually that became skiing on top of this little stream. It may not have been frozen over and the water was still running, but it seemed like (at this particular point) there was plenty of snow covering it up. It occurred to me as we were skiing down this creek that my skis could hit a rock or boulder at any time and send me flying into another rock or boulder in the creek bed. Or there could be a huge boulder ahead and where normally there would be a waterfall I would be flying off and landing on my head, on another rock. Surely I was going to be seriously hurt. I began grumbling and mumbling. Why can't Seth just stick to the trails? Why would we think it was a good idea to keep going when obviously everyone else had decided to turn back? Why does he make me ski down creek beds riddled with rocks and sticks and logs, and woah! why did we get this deranged dog running around and in front of me and around me and throwing me off balance!

Then a smile spread across my face. This is the fun of cross-country skiing! You can do silly things like ski down creek beds with crazy dogs running around and not really worry about anything because you really aren't going that fast. You can fall over into the snow and sink a few inches before you hit anything. We skied further down the creek and ended up in a beautiful pine forest. We came across a pretty well traveled trail. Seth turned around and said "I'll bet we're the first people to connect those trails this year!" with a huge smile on his face. I just started laughing and laughing!

Then Seth said "you know what I'm thinking about when I'm going off the trail and blazing through like this?"

"What?" I could hardly guess.

"Some sucker's going to come across our tracks and think 'well, someone else has done it, it can't be that bad' and go for it! And then they'll get in deeper and think 'what is wrong with this guy? Why would anyone want to do this' he he he he he!" He giggled.

I don't know what made Seth and I think about getting cross-country skis, but I am glad that we did. It is the most fun outdoor activity that we do! We have fun while we're doing it, stay warm, and keep ourselves from watching too much TV in the dark northeastern winter. But most of all, we just laugh and laugh and laugh at the silliness of what we're doing.

None of these pictures are actually from today, but they are all of cross-country skiing. Except the first one, Thunder sticks his head in the snow to sniff things regardless of where he is. :)

In the Midst of the Green Mountains

2009-12-29T14:54:00.003-05:00

December 2009

Dear Friends and Family,

It has been a long crazy year. The early months of January and February saw us backcountry skiing in the snowy Green Mountains of Vermont, hiking up and skiing down, fresh powder every run, trees, and no people. (Plus Thunder, running around like a dog on crack). The snow is so deep that sometimes, only Thunder’s head sticks out, he looks like he is swimming through the snow…we let him go ahead of us to break first tracks, but sometimes we just can’t follow his line, as it would wind us all the way around the mountain without getting anywhere in particular, especially not the top.

March, April and May brought mud, and a mad rush of motorcycle racing. Seth was in a lot of motocross races, taking him to Connecticut, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire. In May, Seth was in his first motorcycle rally, the Rally Tennessee. Joanna tagged along (someone has to drive the potentially crashed and bruised Seth back home!) We both had a blast, and he didn’t get hurt! (That was the best part, for Joanna).

June brings warmer temperatures, green leaves, sunshine and a heavenly calm to Vermont. Seth, Joanna, and Carol travelled to Montreal for the Tour de L’Ile, an annual 50K bike ride through the streets of Montreal. This was the year for Carol and Joanna to do the ride without Seth. He finished at least 2 hours ahead of us! (In our defense, we spent a lot of time at the rest areas looking for him…) Later, Joanna made the annual Schroder pilgrimage to Evergreen Resort, on Lake Huron in Canada. Sitting around with family members and no cell phone reception can be the greatest, most relaxing vacation.

July brings rain, mist, and mud back to our normally sunny clime. Seth bemoans the wicked wet northeast and wishes for the desert. Joanna secretly loves the misty mossy soft days, drinks hot tea in the middle of summer, laughs at all her southern friends who are sweating their butts off, and hopes to never leave. (Shh…don’t tell Seth that I like the rain).

August brings Seth’s annual leg injury, this year it was his knee. We actually thought he was going to need surgery, but it turned out to be sprained, and was healed after a few months with physical therapy. (Our bank accounts let out a huge sigh of relief!) As soon as Seth is laid up, the sun comes back (this never fails.) and we spend a lot of time hobbling around farmer’s markets and grocery shopping.

Fall brings the spectacular New England leaves, the smell of wood smoke, and Joanna’s annual disgust that she doesn’t have a fireplace. Fall weather is perfect for motorcycle rides around our lovely state. (I say that now, but Seth will want me to let you know that I complain the whole time about the wind chill and the drastic temperature change as the sun sets.)

And now, we’ve come full circle…just about. We’ve gotten our first few snow storms and are starting a nice base of snow on the ground. Soon we’ll be able to get out at night for one of our favorite Vermont activities, night time cross-country skiing. Frozen fingers, frozen toes, no control of the skis, and utter darkness make for some of the most hilarious adventures we’ve been on.

Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas,

Joanna and Seth

Expedition Thanksgiving

2009-12-26T11:04:00.003-05:00

"Wanna go to Ray's over Thanksgiving?" Seth asked as we settled onto the couch one evening. "No" I replied, quite frankly. Ray's is an indoor mountain biking park in Cleveland. It is amazing, but I had just spent 3 weeks in Ohio with my Mom's family, and I was looking forward to staying home for two and a half weeks til I had to jet off to LA for the LA Auto Show at the beginning of December. (Not that I didn't enjoy my time in Ohio, or my family, but I am quite the homebody, and just love being home.)

"Well, would we go all the way home, or would we just stay in Cleveland?" I asked (seriously thinking that 4 less hours each way might change my attitude). Seth looked at me like I was insane, and said "I don't know about your family, but my family won't let me get away with driving so far and not coming down to see them."

I thought about it for a few more hours, and finally decided that it might be fun to come home for Thanksgiving. After all, my aunt Joan was in town from Hawaii! I'm so glad I did!!! We had a blast. I took off half of Wednesday and we left around 1 in the afternoon. (I told Seth to make sure he was ready leave at noon, since he had the whole morning off. At 11, I knew we wouldn't be leaving at noon...) The worst part of the whole trip was the drive down. We had to drive separately in order to bring the 4Runner that won't break down back to Foreign Auto, since it refused to pass the Vermont inspection (perhaps the first sign that the 4Runner that won't break down needed a new name), and we got a new 4Runner that moves from my wonderful aunt Lisa. Dad lovingly suggested that we bring it home and let Foreign Auto sell it for us, and I took him up on that offer in a heartbeat! It was such a relief not to worry about selling it ourselves, and the hassle of putting it in the paper, making appointments, answering phone calls from unknown persons...thank goodness for Dads!

Since we didn't leave until around 1, we didn't expect to arrive in Cincinnati at any kind of reasonable hour. I was most terrified of the drive from Columbus to Cincinnati, as it would be the latest, I would be the most tired, and it always drags on and ON and OOOOOOON forever, especially when it is late and at the very end of a 16 hour drive. This segment of the drive really makes you appreciate the "HELL IS REAL" billboard in one of the many Ohio fields. Every time we stopped for gas I mentioned to Seth that I needed to stock up on caffeine, or snacks, or that I was planning on saving all my fun music, to make sure that I wouldn't be falling asleep between Columbus in Cincinnati.

We got to Columbus, got gas one last time, and I was completely exhausted. I didn't see how there was any way that I could make it the final two hours. (Seth says it is only an hour and a half.) Once we got out of the city lights, I started eating my snacks, and drinking my drinks, and playing my fun music. In a last ditch effort to stay alert I turned on The Frankl Project. The car was a-hoppin' and I was wide awake until (cough! sputter sputter). Something strange happened and I lost power for just a second, and when it came back the ABS light was on in the dash, and the radio turned off. I thought it was kind of strange that the ABS and radio would both be affected by whatever was happening, being completely unrelated to each other. I called Seth.
"Uuuuummm, the ABS light came on, I lost power for a second, and the radio turned itself off."
"The ABS light doesn't have anything to do with the radio" Seth said.
"I know, that's why I called you."
"What happens when you LIGHTLY TAP the breaks?" Seth asked. (I hadn't thought to try the breaks after the ABS light came on, I had just panicked and focused on why the ABS light and radio had gone at the same time).
"Hmmm," I said, "What if I tap the breaks and wreck? Should I tap them or should I just coast to a stop?"
"Tap them"
"Are you sure?"
"yes."
My foot was hovering over the brake pedal, when another light came on! Then all the lights in the dash started coming on.
"Oh No! All the lights are on now! What is happening! What should I do!"
"Can you stop? What happens when you tap the brakes?" (Poor Seth)
I finally tapped the brakes and affirmed that they worked. I could slow down.
"What if I slow down and then can't get started again? Maybe I shouldn't slow down I should just keep going as long as I can."
"What happens when you accelerate?" asked Seth.
I slammed on the gas pedal (I don't know why I was so hesitant to press the brakes and slow down in a car that was obviously having troubles, but had no worries about slamming down the gas pedal to go faster...I think I need some break-down training).
"Hmmm, I can go, but it kind of sputters and doesn't accelerate very well," I said.
Seth was driving right in front of me, and started to slow down. "Don't slow down!" I snapped at him, "I might not be able to get going again!" He changed lanes and got behind me. Then my headlights started dimming, and I lost the ability to accelerate completely. The car was slowing down and I couldn't do anything about it. Good thing Seth already had me test the brakes! "OK, I have to stop" I said as I turned my blinker on and started moving over to the side of the highway.
"Why?" he asked.
"I'm pulling over.
"WHAT'S GOING ON" he said. (Poor Seth)
"Oh! It is losing power and I can't accelerate anymore." I moved to the break-down lane and slowly started breaking.
"Is there a reason you are still driving and not coming to a stop?" Seth asked.
"I don't want to break too hard" I responded.
"Why not?"
I didn't really have a good reason, so I broke normally and came to a stop. As I did, I turned off the headlights to conserve power. Seth came up, and was going to switch cars with me and try to limp the 4Runner that won't break down as far as he could until we would need to rename it. As soon as he turned the headlights back on the engine stalled, and it wouldn't start back up.

We moved anything of importance from the 4Runner that couldn't into Seth's Volvo and discussed what we should do. I wasn't sure how far away we were from Cincinnati, and it was 3:30 in the morning. The big question was: Should we call Dad now, or in the morning? Hmmmmmmmm, 3 years ago I would have called him now, but I was pretty sure that he and Cindy were both home, which meant that he was probably sleeping, like any other normal person would be, and that he would probably be getting up early anyway. Seth and I were both pretty tired, and now irritable as well, and so I decided that we would just go to Seth's Dad's house and sleep, and call Dad in the morning.

It turned out we were not that far from Cincinnati. We were near the Loveland exit, RIGHT before the big bridge over the Miami river. Sheesh. Ah! Beautiful sleep! I set my alarm for 8 in the morning to get up and call Dad.

"Cricket! Cricket!" My phone alarm sounds like crickets.

"Ugh" I thought, "it is 8 o'clock already!" I called Dad and he didn't answer. "Good." I thought, rolled over and went back to sleep.

Eventually I did get hold of him, and we went up in the rollback to pick up our lonely 4Runner that couldn't. When we got there it started right up. Dad asked if I wanted to drive it back, but I was a little nervous that if I did start driving it, it would lose all its power on the bridge that was right in front of us, and I wouldn't have anywhere to go. So we put it on the roll back and drove back. Thank goodness for Dads.

Ah! Happy Thanksgiving! Our plans were to go to Mom's family's dinner (in Dayton), so that we could see Joan (and everybody else). It turned out that Joan had gone back to Hawaii, but we did get to see everybody else! We also had recently decided that we would try to make it the the Schroder party (In Kentucky) before it was too late. We had a lot of driving ahead of us for two people who had driven 15 hours to be there. We made it to both parties and had so much fun at each! Susanna just about talked us in to visiting her in Africa instead of Elizabeth in Boise, and made great headway in convincing Seth that he would have no trouble getting a Fulbright scholarship to go hang out in Africa for a year or two.

We sped down to the Schroder party and had fun watching the little kids spend their excess sugar before they went home. My cousin Jody's new house is so beautiful! Seth and I have taken to comparing other houses to our own, specifically trying to figure out how many times our house could fit into another house. We decided that our house could probably fit into Jody's kitchen and living room, and she had a lot to be thankful for.

After Jody's we went to Lana's house to play cards (ie - talk) with Lana, Laurie, Anne, and Kelly. It was so fun! Seth didn't even mind being the only guy and the only non-Schroder there. It was fun to stay up late with Schroders again. It reminded me of when we were little, and Dad, Lana, Laurie and Tom would play cards all night long. I think we kids played a little at the beginning of the night and then would go watch movies or play in the basement. What great times we had! It was also fun to have a smaller group of people to talk to than at a big Schroder party. I felt like I got a proper visit, which I hadn't done perhaps since Anne's wedding in 2008.

Honestly, I don't really remember what we did on Friday. We probably hung out at Seth's Dad's house for most of the day, relaxing.

Saturday we drove up to Ray's with Paul, Raffi, Seth's Dad and Thunder. Seth's Dad graciously offered to take Thunder to a dog park, and then our hotel room, so that he would not be alone in a strange hotel room, or left in the car by himself all day. He is so kind! At Ray's Paul and I rode around together and Seth and Raffi (I think) rode around together. We were having so much fun! Paul had never been there before and had a blast! We broke for lunch and then continued to ride around. Seth did a face plant into the floor at one point, Raffi plowed into something else, and when Seth's dad came back he went into a wall head first. Thank goodness for helmets and shin pads!

When we were ready to go Seth's Dad took us out to dinner, and we went our separate ways. Paul rode back to Cininnati with them and Seth and I went to our hotel room to reassure Thunder that he hadn't been abandoned. (He was very happy to see us!) The next day we left for home, and were thankful that we could sleep in, since we had 4 less hours to drive!

Homemade Pasta?! No Way!!!

2009-11-30T09:53:00.011-05:00

I was feeling all puffed up after such a successful first attempt at baking challah, and I thought I should make my own pasta, at least once. Just to know how. My maternal great-grandfather owned a pasta factory with his brothers, so I figured it was in my blood. Before I have always thought "Me? Make my own pasta?! No way!!!"

Then, I noticed that Joy the Baker, one of my favorite places to get recipes, had just posted instructions for making pasta! Holy Cannoli! It was my lucky day!

Not only did Joy the Baker post instructions for making pasta, she made it look easy! My doubts started to fade. After all, I have a 25 pound bag of flour to use up! So I did it. I made my very own pasta. You may wonder how making pasta could possibly be worth the effort, when it costs less than a dollar to buy a box of pasta. I will tell you. Homemade pasta is more delicious than anything I have ever eaten. EVER. I can not even begin to explain to you the tastey goodness of homemade pasta.

Anyway. Making pasta is also fun. You get to play with your food. I think this would be a fun thing to do with little kids, as long as they don't mind making a mess!

Now, for the part you've all been waiting for: the pictures! First, you make a well out of flour. This is my flour well, and my wine pretending to hide behind it. (You can't make pasta without a glass of wine...)

Then you crack 6 eggs into the pasta well, wash your hands, and try to take nice pictures.

Then you slowly incorporate the eggs and flour together until you have a nice dough ball. (Joy the Baker's was much nicer looking than mine.)

Then, you are supposed to let the dough ball sit at room temp for a while, during which time you remember that you probably shouldn't just eat pasta. People think you are wierd when you do that. So you cut of some veggies to saute.

Then you roll out the pasta until it is transparently thin. I did not roll it out enough. I rolled it until the edges went all the way to the back of the counter, all the way to the sink, and all the way to the bread box, and it was still not that thin. I cut it up anyway, because I am lazy and didn't want to move things around. (Or, if you are lucky, you use a pasta roller for less of an arm workout.)

Then you cut it into strips with a pizza cutter. My strips were horribly uneven. After this, you boil the pasta for about 3 minutes (depending on the thickness). When you take your first piece out to see if they are done, you will be beside yourself. I guarantee it. I took one out to sample, and when I put it in my mouth my eyes got SO wide. "Is it good?" Seth asked. "Oh my," I said, "I think we could have eaten it without the vegetables. They will only mar the taste." Seriously. It is incredible. If your strips are horribly uneven, like mine, the larger ones will be kind of chewy. But if you take the time to roll it out as thin as you can, and cut them evenly, Holy Moses, you will never turn back.

My next goal is a good batch of gnocchi. Wish me luck!

Be Our Guest!

2009-11-10T13:42:00.001-05:00

Towards the end of July (2008), Seth and I thought it would be a good time to remodel the guest room. I use the guest room as an office, and I was pretty excited to have a "nice" room in which to spend my days. So we measured the room, made the trip to the local hardware store and bought drywall (sheetrock), plaster (joint compound), and drywall screws.

We came home to discover the sheer weight of drywall. There was no way that the two of us could put up a whole sheet by ourselves. (I am not strong enough.) So, we had to cut them in half, and then I could hold them above my head and onto the ceiling for a long enough time period for Seth to get enough screws in to hold it. What a relief when I could finally let go of one! After a few sheets I thought my arms would fall off! Once we got the drywall on the ceiling we had to plaster all the seams, remove all the woodwork, and start taking the painted over wallpaper off of the wall. What a mess that room became! Plaster dust, strips of wallpaper and splinters of wood covered the floor.

I worked on plastering the ceiling and the walls while Seth worked (in the basement) on new window moldings and trim around the floor and door. After a few months of being lazy I finally finished the plastering and got to priming, and painting. You may recall my indecision about a paint color. Look at these horrendously ugly window moldings, and the dirty white color on the wall! With such a pretty yard to look out at, this room doesn't deserve to be so ugly.

I went through four different colors before I found the most perfectly pale creamy yellow. The first color was too green. The second was too yellow. The third was too brown, and the fourth! Well, the fourth was perfect. Here we see Seth installing his brand new window moldings, with the final color on the walls. Sorry it is dark out, but some of us have to work for a living.

Here is another picture after we finished both windows, and put the curtain rods up!

Now it is time for the greatest part! Decorating! It was fun to move the furniture back in and make the room look nice. I bought a new lamp (made in Vermont) because we couldn't install the ceiling fan/light until we got the electric redone.

Finally, here are some pictures of the whole room turned back into an office/guest room. We are officially ready for guests! (Or, one guest at least, this room is only big enough for a twin bed. But we do have a full size futon in the living room.)

I think it looks about a trillion times better, and it is a very relaxing place to work during the day. Hopefully (Mom and Paul can vouch for this) it is also a nice place to sleep and be our guest!

Round Challah for the New Year

2009-09-23T21:24:00.002-04:00

Last weekend was Rosh Hashannah, the Jewish New Year. To celebrate, I made challah, a traditional Jewish bread. I have always intended to learn how to make challah, but it always seemed beyond my reach as a baker. Partially because I am not a very good bread baker, but mostly because the recipes I have seen take up more room than they should in the cookbook. Since we had nothing else going on, I decided I would give it a whirl, and if I was going to go through the effort to make the challah, we might as well celebrate in style with a whole shabbat dinner, candles and all!

We had apples and honey as an appletizer, (hah! Appletizer is an apple juice like soda that we had in South Africa. Seth loved it and always laments its non-existence in US grocery stores. So I say it a lot to remind him how unfortunate he is.) challah dipped in honey to start (for a sweet new year!) chicken soup, apple and sweet potato latkes as a main course. We didn't need dessert. We were so stuffed! Normally latkes are served during Chanukah, but you know, they are tastey, and they don't take five hours to bake like some of the Rosh Hashannah sweet potato recipes I found. So I made them. Plus Seth said since I'm not Jewish I don't have to follow the rules. (ha ha ha ha ha)

Anyway, back to the challah. What an adventure! The recipe calls for 5 pounds of flour. Seriously?! Is that necessary? Five POUNDS?!?! I read through the entire recipe, and noticed at the end that this recipe was for 5-7 loaves! Well, I didn't actually need that much, but none of the other ingredient ratios were easily halved, quartered, or even cut into thirds! (I know I'm bad at math, but even if I could have done the math I would have had no way of measuring these ratios!)

So, I decided to make the whole 5 pound recipe.

I went to the store to see about getting five pounds of flour. Wow! Lucky me! I never noticed that they come in five pound bags before! WOW! There is a TWENTY-FIVE pound bag!! I NEED that one. So I got it. It didn't occur to me until I got home with my twenty-five pound bag of flour that I don't have a scale, so I have no way of extracting five pounds out of my twenty-five pound bag. Oooooh Joanna. This is why you don't make nice things like challah.

I looked up pound to cup ratios for flour online, and I got varied results. Apparently the stuff weighs different amounts depending on humidity, flour type, grain size, and all SORTS of different things. So, I decided to use the smallest conversion, figuring I could add more flour if it was too wet. Somehow, (I can not duplicate my thinking here, and now it doesn't make sense) I deduced a number of cups to use, and then realized I only had enough bowl space for half of that! So, even after I bought my 25 pound bag of flour, I was going to have to cut the recipe in half! Oy-veh! 1.5 eggs was hard to create!

Eventually, after a lot of thinking back to basic algebra and fraction multiplication and division, I got all the ingredients together and started mixing. Have I mentioned that math is not my strong suit? When Seth got home, I had him check my fraction divisions, and apparently I have mad skillz and all my numbers were correct! Whew! That's never happened before! It was a Rosh Hashannah miracle!

Seth and I spent a long time pounding and kneading the dough. It was hard. The recipe called for high gluten flour, which of course I couldn't find, so someone at the store suggested adding gluten to regular flour. Did you know that gluten makes dough really hard to knead? I didn't, but I guess it makes sense, since it makes the bread more dense.

I found directions on line how to braid them to be round, for the new year! So we had two round challah, and one is still in the freezer, waiting to be baked for break fast on Monday evening. The round challah brebaked:

Seth bought these dried flowers for me at a farmer's market (or, for the less romantic telling, I asked Seth for money to buy these flowers at a farmer's market). They will last a long time without dying and looking ugly! These candle holders were Seth's grandmother's. When Seth's dad gave them to us, I bought some Shabbat candles, and this is the first time we've used any. I'm glad we at least got to use some of them! The table cloth is from Africa. I haggled for it. It was a good lesson.

When the challah came out of the oven, Seth had the first bite. Seth loves challah, and apparently, I make a fine one. A huge smile spread across his face, and he said "This is really good!" I guess I am not so bad at baking bread as I thought!

Off to Maine for the Weekend!

2009-09-14T17:44:00.001-04:00

Seth and I were lucky enough to be invited to my mom's friend Ann's camp in Maine over the weekend! Mom had been there the whole week, taking a much deserved vacation. So on Friday I worked extra hard during the day to get everything I needed to accomplish at work finished, so that we could leave right way with nothing hanging over our heads.

We intended to leave around 5, and managed to be driving away at 5:15, a record of timeliness for Seth and I. (That's how much we needed a vacation!) We were both in very high spirits and the 4 hour drive into the wilds of Maine seemed to pass in no time at all! We were having such a good time we didn't even notice that we hadn't eaten, and only when we walked in the door and saw Mom's delicious looking left-over beef stew on the stove did we realize that we were actually rather hungry. Lucky for us Mom had made extra, intending the left overs for lunch the following day. (Whoops. Sorry Mom!) This is Seth and I after two delicious bowls of beef stew each. Thunder appears as a ghost in this picture.

Ann's camp is so relaxing. Mom had a fire going, and we sat around in the living room in front of the fire and visited. Aaaahhhhh. Sighs of relief after what was a seemingly long short work week. Thunder was not so relaxed though. He was in a new place, and he was on a mission to find every different smell there was as soon as possible. His nails clicked the floor everywhere he went, so we could always hear where he was. Click click click click. (sniff sniff sniff sniff) click click click click click (sniff sniff sniff sniff) was the background to our conversation! Ann's little cabin is on East Pond (a large lake, in southern vernacular) and there are a lot of loons on her lake. They make such a pretty sound! Pretty soon we stopped talking and listened to the loons. When the loons were calling, even Thunder stopped his shenanigans and stood by the window silently sniffing the air that came in.

In the morning we made Popeyes, a sailors' delicacy introduced to us by Rick, Mom's friend and Ann's brother-in-law. Seth made fun of me for taking pictures. He said I was sentimental for documenting everything, but then I told him I was practicing my photography, which made it not sentimental and excusable. (he he he)

After breakfast we went for a spin around the lake in the kayaks. Unfortunately I don't have any pictures, because I was afraid I would drop my camera in the drink. Poor Thunder didn't fit in any of the kayaks, so Mom locked him on the porch while we were gone. His cries and barks echoed across the lake for an unbearably long time. I think the highlight of our kayak adventure was stalking a loon so that Mom could take a picture. We saw it in the distance and it started calling. We could hear its call echoing all over the lake and it was so cool. Everything was silent except for the loon's call. In order to stalk it, we had to paddle as quietly as possible and wait when it dove underwater to see where it came up again. Seth got the closest. Every time it went underwater he paddled to the place it disappeared, hoping to be closer when it reappeared. He looked like a little boy who couldn't help but go see what was going on, and get his hands involved in something. It made me laugh. He got pretty close to it! Seth is really good at silent paddling. He is like an Indian. He kept sneaking up and ramming the back of my boat, and then giggling. "He he he he he he he" he would laugh with a big grin on his face.

When we got back from our lake adventure and freed Thunder from his imprisonment on the porch, Seth took a fishing pole and Thunder down to the dock. Thunder sat on the dock for a while, and then played in the water, making sure Seth wouldn't catch any fish. The lure on the pole Seth was using was way to big for the fish that would be biting around the dock. The water is pretty clear, and he said he could see one poor little fish trying to bite the lure, but it just couldn't get its mouth around the hook! Lucky fish! I think between the over-sized lure and Thunder, Seth was guaranteed not to catch anything. That's ok though, he had fun.

Later Ann and her husband Mike came over for dinner. We sat on the dock until the sun was setting and then had a delightful dinner. Ann has a golden retriever named Lucy. She and Thunder got along pretty well, but she was more interested in laying on the dock with us, and Thunder was more interested in raisin' a ruckus! [On a sidenote, Thunder is just like Seth. It is so funny to me, because it reminds me of 101 Dalmations (the original cartoon) where all the dogs and their people match. The skinny dog with long legs had a really tall and skinny person, and the shaggy haired dog had a shaggy haired owner, the prissy dog had a well-to-do lady owner, etc.] Before we got there we weren't sure how Thunder would feel about the water, but he took right to it, as you can see.

When there was nothing better to do he just walked around lapping up the water. Thunder is such an oddity. (Another resemblance to his people, perhaps?)

Pretty sunset over the lake!

Mom and Seth watching the sunset, thinking "Golly! I wonder when Joanna's going to stop practicing her photography!" Do you see Seth's face? You know that is what he's thinking. :-)

Instead of giving him a break, I commissioned mom to take our picture.

None of the adults wanted the dogs bothering us during dinner, so they were once again locked on the porch. Thunder was not amused. He stared at us through an open window connecting the dining area to the porch, and cried very quietly (and consistently) the whole time. I felt bad that I couldn't make him stop, but I also felt bad for him because he is accustomed to sitting at our feet during dinner. There is nothing Thunder dislikes more than being left out. Eventually he gathered enough nerve to jump through the window, and Lucy promptly started barking with displeasure. It was funny, but I felt like a mother with an out of control child.

Mom left early the next morning with a LONG drive ahead of her, home to Kentucky. Thunder and I saw her off, and then went back to sleep. When we finally woke up the light was shining at such a cunning angle through the kitchen windows. It reminded me of the Emily Dickenson line "A certain slant of light" and so I took a picture. I took a better picture where you can see the sun on the floor, so you can actually see the slant of light, but that one didn't turn out as well. (I must need a lot of practice!)

Seth and I had breakfast and coffee on the dock,and soaked in the beautiful morning. Thunder played in the water again and got soaking wet for the ride home. I'm surprised how much he enjoyed the water! He is afraid of lots of things, and we've never taken him swimming before. He treated it kind of like snow though, so maybe it wasn't so unknown as we thought.

Morning view from the dock

Thunder walking around in the water.

Thunder trying to shake off. I'm not sure, but I think he was only successful in spreading the water, not getting rid of it. ;-) I love this picture though, because his ears are so in motion they look like propellers, and you can see his face at several different angles. Laughing, When I look at this picture I can hear the sound of ears and lips flapping as he shakes off.

So wet!

A little more practice before we leave.

These are the White Mountains in New Hampshire, on the way home. This is one of the only shots that doesn't have our lovely antenna in it.

We had such a good time getting back to basics at camp in Maine that on the way home, Seth said he was going to cancel our cable the very next day! I think that has already worn off though. I intend to ask if he did it, but I expect a sheepish grin as he sits down and turns on some kind of motorcycle ridiculousness.

Lunch Time Pleasantries

2009-08-11T13:18:00.003-04:00

Things you need to know to understand this story:
1. The first time I left on a business trip, and Thunder was left alone all week, he amused himself by eating a portion of our kitchen floor, right in front of the refrigerator. This section now has no linoleum, no protection from liquid, and is difficult to keep clean.

2. I'm in the process of painting a 2-D wooden horse for an Automotive Recyclers Association convention, which is being held in Lexington this year. I'm painting the horse for KATRA, the Kentucky Auto and Truck Recyclers Association. At the convention in October, these wooden horses that people sponser are going to have a real live race, and it is going to be awesome. Currently, the body of my horse is drying, and he is therefore precariously positioned in his bas, balancing on his tail instead of his feet. He has a jockey on top of him.

3. The hole in the counter where our sink is located is crooked, and the plastic pipes that connect the sink to the drain pipe in the wall are rather contorted to fit into everything, because the sink sits in the counter crooked. Sometimes, when we are extra lucky, the pipes come apart and everything that goes down the sink drains from the time they come apart to the time we figure it out goes into the cabinet under the sink. It's super fun.

4. My house is an vile pit of filth that refuses to be clean.

Lunch Time Pleasantries (working title, open to suggestion)

Imagine my surprise when I opened the refrigerator door and suddenly (and without warning) everything that was in the door was now on the floor! Then, SHOOT! A suspiciously milky-white liquid was quickly gurgling out of its bottle and across the floor!

WHO put the milk in the refrigerator DOOR?! And why!

No time for such luxurious angry questioning, as I realized the milk would soon disappear under the icebox if not stopped. I picked up the half-gallon of milk and set it on the counter. [Note to self: from now on only buy full gallons, as they do not fit in the door.] I grabbed my "floor washcloth" and started soaking up the milk making its way towards the bottom of the fridge. There was just too much of it! I put the floor wash cloth at the base of the cold storage chest to act as a barrier, and grabbed my "dishes and other nice things that might be come near your mouth" wash cloth (this is an important distinction when there is a dog and a man who likes oil and engines in the house!) and started soaking up all the milk. I had the hot water on full blast, and rinsed and soaked, and rinsed and soaked.

Well at least Thunder was being good outside and not barking at anything.

Then I noticed that the boots I was wearing were tracking milk from the floor by the refrigerator to the sink. Once I got the puddle of milk off the floor, I took the boots off (now I'm barefoot) and wiped up my milky footprints. Being my mothers daughter, I then went and filled the bucket with hot, soapy water, and started mopping the entire kitchen and dining room. I don't know if I've ever been so annoyed while I was mopping, but I totally forgot that my KATRA horse was balancing on its tail. I knocked into the table with the mop and he came crashing down on his back, crushing the jockey on top. I hope they can recover by October, when they have to race.

I cleaned up the milk bottle and put it back in the fridge, tucked away in a safe place on the top shelf.
I got my lasagne out of the microwave, which I had heated up before this minor distraction took my lunch break away, and started to go outside. Imagine my surprise to see a glorious sunny day had turned into a downpour! Thunder! Poor Thunder! I put my plate on the counter and ran out the door. Poor Thunder was sitting hunched over in the grass, staring at the stoop. His rope was stuck and he couldn't move any farther. "Oooooh my poooor puuuppy!" I said, as I ran to untangle his rope, and let my wet muddy dog (and my own wet, now grass covered feet) into my freshly mopped kitchen.

I ate my lasagne and started to get myself a glass of ice water before sitting back down to work. Drip.

Drip.

My jaw sets.

Drip.

>:-(

I feel it on the top of my foot.

Drip.

I tear open the cabinet doors in front of the sink. Of course the pipes broke apart! Why wouldn't they?! It is stressful having a half gallon of milk slowly rinsed down you.

Less milky but still white water over the entire inside of the underside of the sink.
Moral of the story: Joanna will not preserve any remaining sanity much longer in this broken filthy non-home.

Rally Tennessee

2009-05-29T16:12:00.015-04:00

I firmly believe there is nothing worse than a blank screen. Even a blank sheet of paper is better than a blank screen. There! Now that my screen is not blank, perhaps I can write a little something about our trip to Tennessee over Memorial Day weekend.

Seth's dream in life is to race in the Dakar Rally, an enduro race that used to take you from Paris, France to Dakar, Senegal. It started from varying places over the years, covering different routes, but always ended in Dakar, the view of the ocean bringing sweet joy and delight to the sand weary drivers, navigators and riders. A few years ago the race was canceled due to terrorist threats, and has since been relocated to South America. This turn of events greatly saddened Seth, who has been dreaming of and romanticizing Africa in general, and the Sahara desert in particular. His sadness was short lived. We watched with increasing excitement the coverage of last year's Dakar Rally, the first held in South America. The scenery was stunning. The course, if possible, was even more challenging than crossing the Sahara. It looked insane. The thought also occurred to Seth that it would be easier for him to actually fulfill this lifelong dream of his if the race continues to be held in South America instead of Africa. If he really wanted to, it would be possible to drive a support truck down to South America. Of course, it would take more vacation time than anyone I know possesses, but it would be possible, and it would be an adventure. (More possible than, say, driving a support truck to Africa.)

So! Seth's dream lives, and now he is trying to prepare himself for it. He's been doing lots of little motocross races, just for fun and fitness, but over Memorial Day weekend he did his first Rally race. It took us just about 24 hours to get from Vermont to Tennessee, stopping for at least 3 hours in northern Kentucky (I had a meeting to go to, and we were borrowing an emergency road triangle from Dad.) When we finally made it to Tennessee, we were pleasantly surprised to see our first Armadillo. It managed to scuddle off the road just in time to avoid being hit by an oncoming car. Seth started unpacking his motorcycle and getting it ready for inspection. We realized that we had forgotten to get the road triangle out of Dad's car, which was really the only reason we had stopped (according to Seth). After Seth had talked to a few people at registration, and figured out what he needed to do and when, he sent me on a mission to find all the things he needed: an orange emergency triangle, rubbing alcohol, and scotch tape. I made a few of my own inquiries, and discovered that the nearest place to get all of these things was a little town about twenty miles away. (They have a Walmart). Off I went, unknowingly driving past some of the very roads Seth would be racing on come Sunday!

I managed to get Seth everything he needed, his bike was inspected, and he attended his new driver orientation course. All was well and Seth was so excited!

Maybe some pictures will make you excited too.

Hmm. Do you think someday I might be THE most embarrassing mom in the world, for taking a picture every few seconds? I think I might, and I think Seth will agree.

Seth's day consisted of riding to a control point, checking in at the correct time, riding to the check in at the start, racing, leaving the control at the end of a stage, riding back to the check in point, and riding to the next stage. There were three stages, and they raced each one 3 or 4 times.

My day consisted of racing (in the 4Runner that won't break down) from spectator area to spectator area to try to see Seth in action. Sometimes I missed out on some pretty vital information, like, the second stage was cancelled for the rest of the day, so don't bother going to the spectator area!

Here's some shots of Seth in action! The first was taken from the spectator area of Stage 1. The second is Seth checking out after the finish line of the Roan Airplane stage (the stages were loosely titled based on the roads they were on.)

I went to the start of one of the stages, and spent so much time trying to find it that I totally missed the motorcycles. But I did get to see the cars line up to get started. The drivers and navigators got out to chat while they were waiting.

The next day I decided not to drive around for hours on end just for little glimpses of Seth in action. I decided to stay in the Pit area, so that I could see him every time they got to take a break. This way I didn't miss any vital info. :-) This is a picture of Seth lining up to check back in after a pit stop. I think his motorcycle looks like Wall-E, but don't ever tell him I said that. (Incidentally, my motorcycle is white, blue, and very sleek looking, so I like to pretend that his is Wall-E and Mine is Eva!)

After they checked back in, they went off to race three stages, and I curled up in the back of the 4Runner that won't break down and read a book/took a nap. I was rudely awoken by the sound of loud engines revving and honking. Ah, the motorcycles are back! They lined up to check back in to the Pit area.

Seth is still alive! Hooray!

Well that's about it for pictures. I did take some movies, and I'll try to get some of those up at some point.

The weather on Sunday was not good at all for motorcycle racing. Thunderstorms were rolling through the area, and it oscillated between torrential downfall and scorching sun, making things wet, slippery, and steamy. While the guys were out doing the last set of stages, a helicopter flew over and landed across the road. Uh oh. A knot formed in my stomach as I saw a few of the motorcycle riders riding back in early. Most of the riders are from a shop in NH where we bought my motorcycle, and Seth does a few races with them every year, so we know them pretty well. I saw them ride in, and strained to see if Seth was among them. He wasn't, but I went to talk to one of the guy's wife, to see what was going on. We finally figured out that Andrew, one of the rider's from New Hampshire, had a bad accident and they were air lifting him to the hospital in Nashville. A few minutes later Seth rode in too. He said that all the guys who knew Andrew had come back after the stage that Andrew crashed on, but some other riders went on to the next one. He was on his way to the next one when he decided he should take heed and call it a day. So he came back, and we started loading everything up frantically, thinking that if Andrew was seriously hurt we would be driving to the hospital with the other New England fellas. The ambulance FINALLY brought Andrew up, and all the motorcycle riders who were back ran over to see him. It turned out that while they were still going to fly him to the hospital and make sure he didn't have a concussion or any other internal injuries, he was not seriously injured. What a huge relief! We met Andrew and his wife Jen at the Burke Montain Hill Climb last year. I thought of Jen finding out from a phone call that Andrew was being taken to the hospital and vowed never EVER to miss a Rally or important race that Seth enters. Getting a phone call would be more horrific than being there, I think.

Anyway, Andrew is fine. He got home a day or two late after staying overnight in the hospital just to be sure. Seth was planning on racing in the New York Black Stages Rally in the middle of September, but he has hurt his knee and won't be able to race. He is really disappointed. Oh well though. Maybe next year!