Sweating the Small Stuff

Already? Really? And Roaches?

So, last Thursday marked the first of what is sure to be MANY holiday craft bazaars in and around Bellingham.  This, in and of itself, is fine--after all, who doesn't love a good bazaar?  But in mid-November?  It's not even Thanksgiving yet!  Is it just me, or should Christmas lights not go up until AFTER Thanksgiving?  Is it all starting earlier and earlier?  Or IS it just me? 

To be honest, I still have pumpkins sitting on my front porch.  At least I THINK I have pumpkins on my front porch.  They used to be, anyway.  They've begun to, how shall I say, "turn" (to black).  The point is, I've barely recovered from Halloween, and now I'm being assaulted with twinkling lights and translucent red and green jellies.  It just doesn't seem right.  I guess there's a part of me that's not ready to let go of fall (arguably the best season EVER).  But whether I'm ready or not, it's fading fast.  Our weather has already turned to crap (and has been amazingly crappy for some time).  Mt. Baker is open for skiing (has been for a couple of weeks), and the Ohio State/Michigan game is in the record books (way to go, Bucks!).  All the indicators are there--it's almost winter.  I mean, it's dark at 4:30 (and winter solstice is still over a month away).  What other indicators do I need?  So maybe I should embrace the darkness--embrace the twinkling lights and multi-colored jams and jellies.  Winter is coming whether I'm ready or not--whether I have outdated produce on my porch or whether I have a wreath.  I'm really quite powerless to stop it.

On a completely unrelated note, I arrived home from work last week absolutely spent--exhausted to my very core (teaching will do that to you).  In an inspired, Martha-esque moment, I had planned ahead and had dinner already cooking in the crock pot (there's nothing like walking in your house and smelling dinner ready to be eaten).  Sarah, on cue, gave me a lovely greeting, and asked if we could have "snuggle time" in my bed before dinner.  "Why, sure!" I thought, "what a lovely way to transition from work to home."  Sarah led me into my room, helped me change into my jammies, and led me over to the bed.  And there, rather than snuggling under the covers with my favorite little kid, I found this under the sheets:

Yeah, that's right--she had a ROACH  hiding under the covers.  When I pulled the sheets back and saw it, I screamed, and Sarah downright SQUEALED with delight!  So much for snuggling.  Looks like I need to call the exterminator.  My daughter is an absolute bug freak!  She loves learning all she can about them, and collecting them (live or rubber) whenever possible.  The thing she didn't know was that when I was a kid, I experienced roaches that were literally THIS BIG down in Florida.  Called "palmetto bugs," they're actually roaches with bonus WINGS, so they can FLY all over and land in your HAIR!  (Trust me, it happened more than once.)  One more reason to avoid the South...

Speaking of the South (and Florida in particular), we're actually headed there for Thanksgiving!  (Hopefully we won't encounter any palmetto bugs, but my experience tells me otherwise).  We're headed to Lakeland to visit my aunt Sarah, after whom the kid with the bug fetish is named.  Updates will follow soon after our return.  The big plan is to squeeze in a trip to Disney World while we're there.  I mean, we'll be less than an hour away from Orlando--it would be criminal NOT to swing by and say "hey" to Mickey and the crew.  We haven't told Sarah yet (because she needs to sleep between now and then), but we'll spring it on her soon.  And frankly, I'm perplexed by how excited I am about it all!  It's sort of like Halloween, or Christmas bazaars--experiencing them through the eyes of a child makes it all brand new--magical, even.  And I think that's really the point--to not be so analytical and critical all the time, but to stop and just be grateful for the twinkling lights, simply because they're pretty.  (But I still think they should stay in their boxes until AFTER Thanksgiving.  I mean, please.)
 

The Tradition Continues...

Every time I go to begin this post, I stop, because I'm afraid that whatever I end up writing is going to sound a) lame, and b) trite.  But, if I don't at least start, I'll never say what I want to say.  So, at the risk of sounding a) lame, and b) trite, here goes: I love this weekend.  It happens every year in accordance with Veteran's Day.  We don't really spend a lot of time talking about our war veterans, though.  Mostly it's a time when we can all get away from school/work, at a time in the year when we desperately need to get away, even if only for a few days.  Typically, we hold this celebration up in Whistler, B.C., but this year, we decided to shake things up a bit and head south, to Whidbey Island, WA.  The location proved to be ideal, as we could walk to the ferry that took us over to lovely Port Townsend.  It also gave us front row seats to one of the season's best storms, and as a kid from the Midwest, I'm here to tell you that few things are as impressive than watching a storm roll in off of the ocean. 

Typically, the activities upon which we embark on trips like this include the following: hanging out, going on small excursions, and eating.  I'd like to address each one in moderate detail, as together, they form the crux of why this trip means so much to me.  Let's begin, shall we, with hanging out.

As a working mom, the time I get to simply "hang out" is rare, indeed.  Oh, sure, I'm pretty good at scheduling "ladies nights," and "grown-up playdates" with my friends, but to just sit around, ALL AFTERNOON, beholden to NOBODY but my own DAMN SELF is practically UNHEARD of!  Sorry for all the shouting in that last sentence, but god almighty, how I do miss the days of just being able to lie about and read, or watch a movie, or doze off, unencumbered.  Nobody needing, wanting, or expecting anything of me--just letting me BE.  Be, be, be.  I can't say enough about it.  And darn it, we ALL deserve to have that kind of unstructured time--a big chunk of it--to do with what we see fit.  It's good for the soul.  And this trip is all about what's good for the soul (mostly--I'll get to some disturbing photos later on).  So score one for just hanging out.  Here's an action shot of Chris and Lynnelle doing just that (please ignore the gang symbols--you can take the boy out of Middletown...):

Next, we enjoy taking small excursions.  After all, so much hanging out gives one the urge for some fresh air and a wee bit of movement (due to all of the eating that is done, which I'll get to momentarily).  This time, our choice for excursions was easy--hop the ferry to Port Townsend--a quaint, Victorian Northwest town that we could actually see from our beach house (when the clouds lifted momentarily).  Truth be told, I'm a sucker for a nice ferry ride.  Getting somewhere by ferry makes the destination seem all the more magical, because you have to work that much harder (re: figure out a ferry schedule) to get there.  Here, we see Bob playing out the famous scene from "Titanic."  (NB: I'm happy to report that the ferry did not sink.)

 
I've been to Port Townsend several times before, and what I love more than anything is the architecture.  All of the Victorian era homes and businesses downtown--it's so darn...quaint.  Throw in a vibrant arts scene, world-class restaurants (the Thai, my god, the THAI!), and that clean, crisp salt air, and you've got the ingredients for an official getaway.  Observe:

The shot above was taken at the Water Street Brewery and Ale House, located in an amazing old building with unbelievably high ceilings and wood floors that I would sell my mother for (well, maybe not Mom, but definitely the cat).  There's nothing like a heaping portion of halibut and chips to kick off a weekend of doing absolutely nothing!  Oh, and the shopping!  I spent most of my time at Phoenix Rising, the largest metaphysical bookstore I've ever visited.  My purchases?  A gorgeous new rose quartz crystal pendant, and a pile of books ranging from how to use a pendulum to chakras 101.  Oh, and a book on how "soft addictions" (like excessive Internet use--oops) can eat away at your soul (well, sort of).  Very cool.

So, after a quick stop to pick up a chai for the ferry ride home, it was back to the third favorite part of this traditional trip--the EATING!  In the flurry of e-mails that precede this trip, everyone volunteers to cook one meal (or, in the case of Brian Pahl, cook a meal AND help everyone else cook theirs).  This year, Chris and I followed a beer theme, and had beer brined pork chops, beer bread, asparagus with a beer-ish glaze, and beer-a-misu for dessert (which didn't exactly turn out according to planned, but it sure tasted good!).  Bob was on breakfast patrol, while Brian YYZ (a.k.a. Canadian Brian, a.k.a. "Birthday Boy") got traditional with steak and mashed potatoes.  Yes, it seems as if all we do on this trip (besides sit around) is eat--and eat WELL.  Gourmet magazine ain't got SHIT on us!  Check it out:

 
 

It's not only during official "mealtimes" that eating is occurring.  Oh, no--it's pretty much all the time.  Grazing, if you will.  And lots of it.  My favorite snack?  The chocolate rocks:

Yes, by all accounts (hanging out, going on excursions, and eating), this was another successful trip.  However, most noticeably absent this year was our friend Shane, and his amazingly incredible, pasta-licious, homemade lasagna.  Oh, how Shane (and his lasagna) was missed.  Maybe next year, right?  Because that's the cool thing about this trip--that there WILL BE a next year.  It's something that I've grown to count on, and look forward to more than Christmas or tax return day.  More than anything, I look forward to this time to reconnect with friends--some I see nearly every day, and some I don't see for months at a time, and some that are somewhere in between.  Because really, sharing this "deep" time (for lack of a better term--snicker if you must) with people who are not (but you wish were) family is rare, indeed.  In fact, it should be mandatory that we all get to spend this kind of time each year with people we love.  It seems like something the French would do, and darn it, we should do it, too. 

On that somewhat sappy note, I'll leave you with a few more pictures.  I won't even bother to provide any context.  For those of you who were there, you get it.  Anyone else will just have to draw their own conclusions.  And I hope that this post wasn't too lame and/or trite.  If it was, oh well. Thanks again, gang, for another memorable trip.  Here's to booking next year's location soon!

 

 
 
 

 
 

 

 

 

Yeah, It's Real.

For most people, Halloween conjures up thoughts of wee ones running about in costume, ghosts, ghouls, and goblins, tricks and/or treats, and pounds and pounds of candy.  Rarely does "cow's tongue" make the list.  Until this year.  Yup, this year, I was introduced to the art of using a real cow's tongue to accent holiday decor.  It works well, no?  Truthfully, I think it's brilliant!  And it makes sense, considering the creator of said decor is the executive chef at our local chain of grocery stores, so he has access to these things (hey, it's not what you know, but who you know, right?).  Sarah was with me when we saw this, and naturally, she raced over to touch it (I had to actually remind her not to lick it, because that's what she was thinking about doing--I could tell).  I think it's perfect.  In fact, this was a pretty perfect Halloween.  Let's briefly recap, shall we?

We started out the early evening in Fairhaven, our local historic area south of downtown where all the shop owners were dressed in costume, eagerly handing out candy to the throngs of kidlets who were swarming the area.  This is fun, really, because it's so efficient.  And a good percentage of the adults dress up, too, which always makes things interesting.  After Fairhaven, it was back home to start the pumpkin chili (yeah, Krista--keepin' the tradition alive!), for the post-trick-or-treat festivities were at the Grant Street location that night.  As soon as Ruby and Emma (and their parents) arrived, it was time to hit the streets!  We ventured out farther than ever this year, widening the radius of our candy-collecting skills.  And man, oh man, what a perfect night!  Clear, mild, almost-full moon--pumpkin-themed perfection!  Check it out:

As usual, I bought WAY too much candy, and I'll end up taking it to campus tomorrow to give to my students (because 20-somethings have a metabolism).  Lucky for me, though, Sarah's not a big chocolate fan--she'd much rather go for the Nerds or the Smarties--and let her have 'em.  She'll never notice that the "fun size" (what a joke) Snickers are missing...

So here's to another year of all things Halloween.  Oh, and had to make a poster out of this shot.  Hopefully I'm not gazing into the abyss that is my future...

 
 

You, Too?

 

Just about everyone I know has a band that they considered crucial to them during their "formative" years.  Many of us have not just one or two, but several bands that fit this category.  For me, such bands would include (in no particular order, except for maybe chronological) The Police, Rush, U2, The Cure and REM (among many others, but those are the biggies--the "stadium fillers").  Last night, I got a chance to hang with one of these bands.  Yes, Bono and the Boys came to Vancouver, BC, and so did I.

I can't remember when, exactly, I was first introduced to U2.  I blame my college roommate extrordinaire, Laura, for bringing us together.  It was the late 80s, and Joshua Tree had just been released.  Back in the day, we thought that U2 was some sort of way alternative, quasi-punk, ultra political band--which I suppose they were, but weren't marketed as such.  I remember sitting in the movie theater during my junior year of college, watching "Rattle and Hum" on the screen, and thinking, "Woah.  This is big."  For years, U2 was the band that played on that soundtrack that we compose throughout our lives, in which hearing certain songs sparks memories so vivid, they feel like they took place only yesterday. 

As an undergrad, I spent part of my junior year studying art history in Paris.  To this day, I can vividly recall specific sections of the city according to their accompanying U2 songs.  "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" was Monmartre, "I will Follow" was the district where our hotel was located, and "Bad" was on a long bus ride through the mustard fields outside of the city.  Years later, when I defended my doctoral dissertation, I had "Angel of Harlem" queued and ready to go in my car's cassette player, because I knew that I needed to hear those particular vocals on that particular day.  U2 has always been like that for me--dependable.

As the 90s progressed, I sort of lost track of what Bono and the Boys were putting out there.  I mean, let's face it, the "old" stuff is tough to beat.  But it wasn't until the Pop Mart tour that I saw them perform live (in Ohio Stadium, which was nothing short of a religious experience).  A few years later, in 2001, I saw them in Columbus again, this time with the Elevation tour.  And now, last night, I was able to see them on the 360 tour.  Honestly, I couldn't even recognize some of the new music, but they played just enough of the classics to keep the crowd whipped into a perpetual frenzy.

How I came to attend this concert is interesting (to me, anyway).  Big D Daddy has been out of town this week, so he wasn't a viable companion candidate.  I thought about asking some of my girlfriends who I know love the band as much as I do, but I had this odd urge to go by myself--to just do this on my own.  A religious pilgrimage, of sorts.  Besides, the price for a single ticket at BC Place was a quarter of what it would be for two together, so it was decided.  I would treat myself to dinner and a show.  To psych myself up, I wore my concert t-shirt from the Elevation tour (you can see Bono's head popping out of the area where my cleavage would be if I had any).  I even went through the trouble of bleaching my mustache, just in case I was called upon to go backstage to party with the band after the show (nb: my bleaching was in vain).  I then made the trip up I-5 to BC Place in Vancouver (home of the opening ceremonies of the 2010 Winter Olympics!).  Once I arrived, I just wandered around a bit, taking pictures, and grabbed a bite to eat.  It was really a lovely time to just roam about and people watch (and believe me, there were plenty o' people ripe for the watchin').  Here are some highlights:

The crowd was an interesting mix--mostly white, mostly older, but with some young people thrown in for good measure.  (A quick fashion tip from Aunt Lauren: Ladies, if you're over 40, put away the tight leather pants, okay?  It just doesn't look right, no matter how slammin' your body might be.)  While standing in line to get in, I overheard a conversation being had between two twenty-something girls.  It went a bit like this: "So, will I, like, know any of their songs?"  "Yeah, I think so.  They're on the radio sometimes."  Really?  If those girls had better seats than I did, then something is awry with the universe.  Bill and Melinda Gates were there, and it was Bill's birthday, so we all sang "Happy Birthday" to him, which was kinda nice.  There were also some kids there--relatively little kids--brought by their parents who were all about my age.  Now, that's a lovely sentiment, but please, people--leave your kids at home.  Rock concerts are super, duper loud, and can also be somewhat scary if you're only 4 feet tall! 

Once I got inside, I wandered around a bit to look at the stage.  I'm not sure, exactly what it was supposed to be (if anything), but it looked to me like a spider of some sort.  It was, however, very functional, and had a kick-ass monitor system all around (hence the 360 part).  Here are some shots of how it was used (nb: the Obama images were used by the Black Eyed Peas/Fergie, who, I might add, ROCKED!):

As the time for U2 to come onstage grew near, I was surprised how flat-out excited I was!  It didn't matter that I was there alone (although I got to know the lovely couple from Alberta that was seated next to me).  And then, when the band exploded on stage, I was right back in the 80s--right back in my formative years, attaching my own mental movies to the images that were being projected onto the screen.  And there's something about being at a live show--a BIG, live show.  The way the bass guitar literally makes your internal organs vibrate!  The way the crowd turns into one, big, swaying entity!  (And the way the weed being smoked all around you takes the edge off ever-so-slightly.)  There's really no substitute for it.  For two and a half hours, I was part of a communal experience that was truly epic.  (I kept thinking, "Bono and I are breathing the same sweet, pot-tinged air!  We're sharing the same experience!"  There's a part of me that will always be thirteen.)

The video I was able to take with my little Cannon was pretty shitty, but I think it at least conveys a sense of how it was to be there.  This clip is of a nice a Capella version of Amazing Grace, which segues into Where the Streets Have No Name:

 

This show was the final one on this leg of the 360 North American tour.  They'll be back next year, and Seattle is on their list of cities.  I'm not sure if I'll go again (have to see how ticket prices are), but it sure would be nice.  I can imagine that U2 is the one band that I'll go through the trouble to see again and again.  Their music is so much a part of who I am.  I asked my college students today who they feel their formative bands are, and it was difficult for them to say, because they're smack dab in the middle of their formative years.  They asked me to ask them again in 10 years, when they have some perspective on the topic.  Current bands that they really like are ones that have been around for awhile--Green Day, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and anything Grunge related (which surprised me a little).  Someone mentioned Death Cab for Cutie, which was interesting, as that was the last live show I saw last spring.  Made me feel sort of current, like I'm keeping up with the kids--sort of.  But the kids ain't got nothin' on me.  I'm sure every generation thinks that theirs was the most important when it comes to music.  Mine is no exception.  But man, the music I grew up listening to was REALLY GOOD!  Last night, I was reminded of just how good it was.  And is.  Rock on, Bono and Boys.  Rock on.

 

View Property

Cubicle, sweet cubicle.  For the next 18 months (or so), this is my office space on campus.  It's actually a classroom that's been divided into six cubicles, ready to house myself, four colleagues, and two graduate assistants (who are crammed, unceremoniously, into one cubicle).  I should actually consider myself lucky, because at least I have a window!  But check out my view.  Can you see the enormous (what other kind is there?) CRANE outside of my window?  Here--take a closer look:

Can you see how close to my window that crane is?  Literally INCHES!  There I'll be, working away at my desk, and suddenly, the room will darken.  When I look up to see if it has begun to rain, I see a giant WALL OF CONCRETE coming my way!  Is this unnerving?  Not in and of itself, but add to it the banging and crashing caused by all of the little bobcats hauling off debris, and it's really quite a spectacle.  A cubicle spectacle! 

Now, granted, there's been a big ol' pot of gold promised us at the end of this particular renovation rainbow.  Once completed, the renovation of Miller Hall will be one for the ages.  Our new offices will be swank beyond compare.  But for now, we have the cubicles.  And the crane.  Look, here's my colleague, Bob, enjoying his view of the crane:

I especially like all the wires strewn about our floor.  Somewhere, an OHSA angel just got his wings.

The only real problem with our cubicle city is the lack of anything that even RESEMBLES privacy.  Be it advising students, making phone calls, or watching replays of the Daily Show on the Internet, all of my cubicle mates can hear every word, as I can also hear them.  And I guess it's not that big a deal, really, it's just that over the past eight years, I've grown accustomed to having my own door, which I could close at any time.  At least my cubicle is located in the back corner of our little village.  I'm not the one people turn to to ask questions when they first walk in.  If you want to find me, you've gotta work for it.

On a somewhat unrelated note, my cat, Frank, seems to seek out areas of confinement as well.  Here he is perched in a box that my colleague, Bob (see photo above) brought over last weekend (full of delicious homemade canned goods).  He looks rather cozy, no?  (Frank, not Bob, although you could argue yes either way.) 

So here's to small spaces, large demolition equipment, and privacy in the past tense.  I'm optimistic that it will all be worth it, and looked back upon with a small degree of fondness.
 
 

The Patch

There are several places in this world that I would never, ever visit were it not for the fact that I have a child.  These include (but are not limited to) playgrounds (indoor and outdoor), climbing walls, Red Robin, ice rinks, Sears, and pumpkin patches.  Now, it's not that I have anything against any of the above locations, it's just that I would have no need (nor desire) to visit any of them solo.  However, having children brings with it myriad obligations, one of which includes seasonal "patches" and "farms" (re: Christmas tree).  Luckily, my mom friends (who are all so KICK ASS I can barely stand it) and I are of like mind, and agree that there are certain things that our children should be exposed to, so off we went to Stoney Ridge to see what the great pumpkins had in store for us this year.  (NB: We tried to go last weekend, but the rain was relentless, so we ended up at an indoor playground.  See note above.)

It seems to me that when taking photographs in pumpkin patches, one can divide the photos into two very general categories: lovely scenery and cute kids.  Here's a taste of some of the lovely scenery:

It's almost cliche, really, and some of it is created expressly to be photographed, but darn it, I love it all.  I love the color, I love the shapes, and I love the concept that all of those fruits and veggies and sights of autumn represent--moving indoors, gathering close with family and friends, cooking, baking, the whole nine yards.  Seriously, the line between appreciation and "gag me!" is really, really fine, isn't it?  But alas.

The second category of picture taking is, of course, capturing those cute little kids.  On this day, Sarah spent most of the time with her pre-school bud, Emma (they go way back).  We met up with another pre-school alum, Ruby (and her friend, Stella) later on.  Here's what some if it looked like:

See the photo directly above this text?  The one with the girls' heads cut off?  Can you see the mud that they're standing in?  Yeah, that was in the giant corn maze.  It was like quicksand, only gloppier.  Sarah's boots popped off I don't know how many times.  It made for slow going (even the grown-ups were having a rough time).  As I type, Sarah's boots are sitting out on the front porch.  I don't know if they'll ever come back inside.

The think I like the most about when Sarah and her buds get together (besides getting to hang with their KICK ASS moms--Kathy, you were there in spirit) is that you get to see them as they truly are--not as "our kids," but as the people that they're developing into.  You only get a glimpse of that side of them when they're together, interacting as they run and play and figure things out for themselves.  The best is when they're so engrossed in what they're doing that they forget that there are adults close by.  That's when their true selves come to the forefront.  I'm afraid that kids don't get enough opportunities to do that these days.  And I think that's a shame, because it's during those unsupervised times that they truly develop.

So, another year, another pumpkin patch.  The apples, the pumpkins, the corn maze, the train rides--it's all good.  I'm not sure I'd end up there if I didn't have a child in tow, but maybe.  After all, they serve fresh, hot donut holes and hot apple cider.  What's not to love?  Oh, and by the way, the new lens looks FABULOUS on you, Shameem!  Absolutely fabulous! 

 
 

The Line Between Fall & Winter

One of the coolest things about hikes in October is that you get to see the torch being passed from fall to winter--right in front of your eyes!  Crisp, cool air?  Check.  Brightly colored autumnal foliage?  Check.  A smattering of freshly fallen snow?  Check.  It's all there.

On Sunday, Stress, Sarah and I braved the 42 degree temperatures and headed up the Damfino Lakes trail, on our way to Excelsior Pass.  Legend has it that, long ago, two hikers were traveling through the area.  Upon coming to several small lakes, one hiker turned to the other and asked, "How the hell did those lakes get here?"  After a brief pause, the other hiker replied, "Damn if I know."  Apparently, the second hiker had a Southern accent, and their response came out in a slur, sounding like "damfino."  Whether or not this is true has yet to be determined.  But it makes a fun story.  And however they got there, the lakes are beautiful.  On this particular day, they had an ever-so-thin sheet of ice covering them--a mere hint of what's to come (and soon--this week is supposed to be pretty stormy).

The lake wasn't the only place we found cool ice formations.  All along the rocky, dusty (and in some spots, really muddy) trail, we found outcroppings of stringy, spaghetti-like cables of ice literally shooting up out of the ground.  I'm sure there's a scientific name for what we were looking at, but we just called it "curly ice."  Earth Science 101.

At about the halfway point, Sarah decided that she'd had enough, and wanted to turn back to throw pebbles out onto the thin ice that had formed on the lakes.  Luckily, Stress was willing to turn back, too, freeing me up to motor up to the pass to see what I could see.  And what I could see was, shall I say, FABULOUS!  Fall and winter were co-mingling atop the pass, enjoying one anothers' company.  There was snow, there were red blueberry bushes, and there was glorious sun--all being watched over by Mount Baker and her stately neighbor, Mount Shuksan.  

Now, let me pause here to say that it's been a full two weeks since I've been to the gym (or done anything remotely physical, for that matter).  Earlier in the morning, my very fit friend and I did a substantial bike ride in a hilly neighborhood by Bellingham Bay.  As a result, my thighs were a bit jelly-like (yet simultaneously burning--go figure).  As I neared the summit of the pass, I was actually praying OUT LOUD to my friend Jesus, to see to it that I did NOT have a heart attack in the thin mountain air.  Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.  "Jesus.  Shit.  Jesus.  Shit."  It wasn't pretty.  But darn it, I was SO CLOSE!  I wasn't going to let something like a pulmonary event stop me.  Each time I'd think I'd reached the pass, the trail would lead me to what I was sure HAD to be the ridge that would put me face-to-face with Mount Baker.  This happened several times before I was finally treated to this:

And behind me, this:

Yeah, it was worth it.  The sun.  The quiet.  The solitude.  I was in only-child heaven!  But alas, shortly after I arrived, I had to high-tail it back to the lakes, to pick up Stress & Sarah (the sun sets pretty fast this time of year, and it was getting late). 

We all agreed that the best part about a hike like this (aside from all of the "nature" around us) was stopping at Milano's on the way home for the spinach ravioli in a light walnut cream sauce (totally justified after 4 hours of hiking, 2 of those uphill).  Sarah also really liked "all the ice."  And so did I.  It was cool (quite literally).  Yes, it's safe to say that we all slept well Sunday night (the red wine may have had something to do with that).  Now, about getting back to the gym this week...

  

The Secret Life of Spiders

 

As if we need MORE reasons to love Canada.  Thanks, Mark, for alerting me to this educational film.  Makes me want to be a middle school science teacher...

Boat People

Okay.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I work with the coolest people in the universe!  One of the things that help to make the faculty of the Woodring College of Education cool is that we like to practice what we preach.  After reading a book by Laura Rendon called "Sentipensante," we wanted to know how to try and incorporate our WHOLE selves into our teaching and our research--not just our brains, but beyond that, to our very (this is gonna sound corny) souls.  One of the ways we have chosen to do that is to create a group (Multicultural Faculty Fellows--thank you, Kristen!) to explore what it might look like if we educated the whole person--academically as well as spiritually--with an understanding that we all come to the classroom with a lifetime of knowing and thinking and doing under our collective belt (as opposed to being blank slates).  So, to honor that vision, we decided to come together as a group, at the beginning of a new academic year, to tap into what teaching means to us, and the best way to incorporate our whole selves into our classrooms.  And what better way to do that than a boat trip?

We headed out to Sucia Island, one of the hundreds of islands that make up the San Juan archipelago, and one that can only be reached by small boat (no ferry service here).  The island is cool, because from above, it looks like a giant hand, with fingers spread out into the sea.  This makes for lots of bays and coves and other similar hiding places.  The fact that it was a brilliant, sunny, seventy degree day didn't hurt, either.  For the first hour or so, we went on a "solo walk," where we found a quiet spot to just sit and be.  What a gift, given our normally hectic lives.  We were supposed to sit and write some reflections in our journals, but being the rebellious student, I just took lots of pictures.  They speak volumes over any words I could conjure up.

From the ancient fossils to the red-barked madrona trees, the island had lots to offer.  It's not often that I (or any of us, really) get the opportunity to just sit, and be, and observe what's around us.  What if we asked that of our students--to just be and truly observe?

After our solo walks, it was time for some grub.  I must say, the crew of the Triton did not disappoint!  Fresh smoked salmon, home-grown vegetables, crusty bread, a variety of meats and cheeses, and plenty of wine made for a sumptuous lunch!

After lunch came some time to reflect--as a group--on what we experienced on our solo walk.  It was interesting to hear what others thought of during their time alone.  One common thread was that we all need to get the hell out of our heads every now and then and just (just!) appreciate all of the goodness that we have in our lives, whether we can see it or not.  Then, we drummed--and drummed and drummed and drummed--under the supervision of Ramon Murillo, of Painted Drums.  And I must say, we sounded pretty darn good!

On our way back to Bellingham, my colleagues Pat, Kristen, Joanne, Lynda and I decided to stand on the bow of the boat--a la Titanic--and just let the wind and the waves have their way with us.  Little did we know how choppy the waves would be, or just how fast the Triton could go!  I swear to you, by the time we reached shore, we were a screaming, exhausted, drenched-to-the-bone, exhilarated group of women!  How awesome to share an experience like that with people with whom you work!  Having those sorts of experiences--the sorts of experiences like the ones we had on this day--does something to a group.  It bonds us not in terms of our "profession," per se, but in terms of our humanness.  Each of us has dreams and goals and desires and setbacks, and that's a nice feeling--to know that we're not alone in trying to figure out how to negotiate a world that isn't always so willing to negotiate.  How comforting it is to know that there are women (and men) out there--right down the hall!--who have so much in common with us.  Now to translate that feeling to our students, to let them know that we're people first, teachers and students second.  Let's try to rally around that people part.  Let's try to educate the WHOLE person.  Even if they're soaked to the bone.

It's Three, Three, THREE Parks in ONE!

The brilliant thing about Olympic National Park is that it's actually three parks all rolled into one.  As illustrated in the photos above, you've got the wild, rugged, sea-stack-strewn coastline, which segues into the moss-laden temperate rain forest, which segues into the flower-splashed alpine wilderness--home of some mighty tall mountains (Mt. Olympus!) and glaciers that crack and moan all summer long.  With so much variety just waiting to be enjoyed, one must make some tremendously difficult choices.  Since much of last year's annual "Girls' Camping Extravaganza" was spent in the sub-alpine meadows, we figured that this year we'd stay low, and alternate our time between the coast and the rain forest.  And we were not disappointed.

Yes, if it's the week after Labor Day, it's time for the annual all-girls-multi-generation camp-o-rama!  The week after Labor Day is nice because a) public schools are back in session, so the park is FAR less crowded, and b) the weather is usually drop-dead-FABULOUS (no exception this year, save for a little overnight rain).  It's hard for me to write about how special this camping trip--and this location--is.  I think what I'll do is leave the nature writing to Wendel Berry.  I'll focus instead on trying to show you some of the highlights of what we saw during our annual time outside.

We started in the rain forest near the Sol Duc hot springs.  And yes, the springs were hot, but also overrun with weekend visitors, mostly from Eastern Europe (my motherland!).  We better enjoyed our time at our snazzy campground, and then a walk the next day to check out Sol Duc Falls:

Later on, we went to visit the famous Hoh Rain Forest.  We were here a couple of years ago, but it's always nice to return to see the moss, the fungi, and the ENORMOUS trees that have been here for well over 500 years (wow).

I wish there was a way for you to smell how fresh a rain forest smells, and how muffled the sounds are due to all of the moss.  I was reading an article the other day written by a scientist who studies sound.  He was looking for the last truly quiet places in America, and the Hoh Rain Forest is one of them.  You can literally hear the hemlock needles landing all around you.

After our rain forest experience, it was time to head west on Highway 101 (well, south, actually) and check out what the coast had to offer.  Living in Bellingham, we get to see the north end of Puget Sound all the time, but it's not open ocean, the kind where you can hear waves crashing and see sea spray flying up and over boulders the size of a house.  There's more drama on the coast.  Luckily, we snagged a campsite right next to the beach (at Kalaloch--pronounced CLAY-Lock) so we could hear the surf all night.  After a lovely dinner of pasta, wine and cheeses, we were treated to seeing shooting stars within the Milky Way at night (no city lights nearby!).  I ask you.  The only light came from Sarah's glo-stick--a must on any nocturnal outdoor adventure:

The next day, we ventured up the coast to Beach 4 (creative, no?) and Ruby Beach (one of my favorite places on earth).  The day started out a bit foggy and misty (just like it should near the coast), but then got clear...

I love the driftwood and the smooth stones and the variety of critters that you can find along a northwest beach.  I also love seeing the carins along the way.  Typically found on mountain trails to help hikers find their way, carins can also be found along the beaches and rivers of the park--and Sarah got into building them!

Yes, it was another successful camp-o-rama.  Oh, we stayed in some motels (and cool cabins!) on some nights (mother likes a mattress and hot water), but the best times were when we were "living off the land," forging our way with our double-burner propane stove and waterproof tent.  Lewis & Clark we are NOT, but not bad for a group of city chicks!  Next year we want to explore the northern coast a little more, and possibly more areas around Lake Crescent (it's clear and BLUE!).  That's the brilliant thing about Olympic National Park--it's three, three, THREE parks in ONE!  (And I love each one of them.)