Living and Loving Idaho - from California

So I Just Had to Have Quiche

2012-02-10T23:09:00.008-07:00

You are guessing this right from the title - it's a thinly veiled excuse for me to post even more pictures and talk even more about France. But it was a once in a lifetime trip - it's really not to be stopped.

So why was I thinking about France today? Mainly because while I waited to get a new set of tires (I'd rather not discuss THAT part), I wandered over to "The French Pastry Cafe" - a place I have seen many times but never had the opportunity to visit. Today was the day.

I enjoyed a quiche plate with salad and an americano: coffee - excellent! quiche - good but maybe too much nutmeg. Very surprising, the nutmeg. I really liked it at first but then half way through was like, nutmeg, really? It was not as good as any of the quiches I had in France - but, I am not in France.

But I was - and as I sat there I got to poking around on David's Google plus account where he loaded the rest of the pictures we had from France (at least, his favorites). So here we go. Yet more pictures of France.

This is the kids showing good will in the Hameau de la reine at Versailles. We visited Versailles on Bastille Day.

I believe this is at the Jardins des Plantes (where we visited the Comparative Anatomy Museum and the Paris Zoo).

The next two pictures are from Chartres. Fabulous day trip from Paris! This was also our family's first experience with foie gras. And creperies.

Notre Dame - obviously. And yes, we did see a whole lot of churches.

In fact, so many - that I have no clue which one this is. From my shirt, I'm thinking this might have been somewhere in the Loire when we were visiting Chenoceau and Chambord - but then again, we could only take so much luggage and true to the European style, I wore the same things over and over again.

Topiary gardens near Sarlat in the Dordogne.

I think this was outside of Chateau Auzers, the wedding site in the Cantal. I recognize the hydrangeas.

Versailles. I feel like I'm looking very American in this picture.

St. Emilion. Breathtaking. I loved loved loved this place. And I have 5 more bottles of Bordeaux to remember it by.

Bordeaux. That's Lucy on the far left. Bordeaux is wonderful. I didn't think I would like going there so much and spending so much time in that area. It's clear that I often have absolutely no idea what I'll like.

Lastly me - not quite smiling so hugely for once. You can probably guess where that was taken.

The kids and I were discussing France again at dinner tonight. Ethan said he loved France for the pastry. That's a good reason to love France, no doubt.

When I think a bit about it, I think I love France for the pace of life. Maybe it was just vacation anywhere pace of life - but no - it wasn't the same, even in Maui. Life was spread out and savored. Every last bit of marrow sucked. And washed down with wine - the way it should be, damn it.

I'm a reminscer - what can I say.

Reminiscing about Chicken Tagine

2012-02-03T23:03:00.014-07:00

Chicken Tagine is one of my favorite comfort foods. It is not one of those comfort foods that remind me of "home", as in where I grew up - but rather "home", as in where I spent the vast majority of my adult life up until this point. That would be an Idaho comfort food - not exactly because it's local cuisine, but more because of the memories it evokes.

The most salient memory of chicken tagine was the time I made it for the World Cuisines dinner night put on by the former owner of Sato's in Idaho Falls (a now defunct Japanese restaurant). I happened to be acquainted with the couple that owned Sato's, and it just so happened that my endless jabbering about food (at the gym, no less) got me an invention to represent two types of cuisine at the dinner - Italian (requested), and then I got to pick one other. Tagines are typically North African dishes and come in all types. Lamb, chicken, beef, mutton - whatever you have on hand. I had made it several times before and enjoyed its simple yet potent flavors. This particular tagine is chicken tagine, and involves de-skinning bone-in thighs (or whatever you want to use - I think thighs are best), browning them in butter on both sides, then cooking about 2 onions and one bunch scallions in the drippings. After they are nice and soft and translucent, then you add in the rest of the goodies: chickpeas, ginger, garlic, black pepper, salt, cayenne pepper and cinnamon - then liquid - not fully covering the chicken. I could tell you measurements - but I won't. And you'll see why in a minute.

The dinner was supposed to have somewhere around 300 attendees. This was a number I couldn't really get my head wrapped around. For the Italian food, I made three homemade (of course!) sauces: regular tomato sauce, fresh tomato/vegetable sauce, and then pesto. These were to be served with homemade gnocchi. I perhaps should've thought through the whole - individually forming enough gnocchi for 300 people to taste. There were pounds and pounds of potatoes baked (it was either 40 or 80 - I honestly can't remember) - then flower and dashes of nutmeg mixed in, then basically all afternoon spent rolling and shaping the gnocchi. That was an incredible undertaking, and I'm not sure I could ever do it again. Especially that now that I know how easily gnocchi can go wrong (formless mush? too firm? bad shape? no taste?) - I would probably have way more of a fear of failure than I had at the time.

So - given how into that I was - I happened to forget that I had another dish to make - Chicken Tagine - for 300 people to taste. I had chicken thighs from an entire farm, I believe. Someone skinned them for me (thank god) - then I was given an enormous stove with maybe 8 huge burners and super tall pots, sticks of butter, spices - and very little time. I asked if they had measuring spoons in the restaurant kitchen, and the owner showed me the palm of his hand and said - go for it. I was really greasy by the end of that.

So, here we were with about 3 huge trays of chicken tagine in the back of our green Jeep Grand Cherokee. Jeeps are not known for their smooth rides, and this one was not special in this respect - the liquid spilled out all over the back of the car (it was only later I figured out that throwing cous cous in there toward the end soaks up all the liquid and makes for yummy carboliciousness). Thus, the car smelled like chicken tagine for.... ever. For those of you who know from experience the smell of ... specialness... that comes out of our current family car (the Pilot) - you can probably easily imagine we never were particularly speedy or conscientious about keeping our cars neat and tidy.

So where is this going? The dinner was a success. That's a little bit beside the point, although that is a good memory of chicken tagine. People loved the gnocchi and sauces so much more (tagine was a little scary to local Idaho Falls folks) - after all, it was an easy sell with the pasta being made primarily from potatoes and all, that I didn't necessarily consider the dish a success from that.

However, the spilled sauce in the car was sniffed by the new potential INL hire, Doug, who ended up eventually moving to Idaho with Wendy and enjoying many a chicken tagine dish (among other things!)

Another memory of the chicken tagine was of our exchange student, Anne-Laure (living with us actually at about the time I am referring to) - she loved that I made homecooked meals every night, and since I am a sucker for praise, I loved her for that. She used to eat healthy portions (she is a small person), and then at the end, reach for one last bite and say, "Just for the taste!" She is so cute when she says that.

I also was recalling eating mutton tagine in a little restaurant in Riom-es-Montagnes in the Cantal last July, visiting the region for that very same exchange student's wedding. David and our fast newly-made Australian friend Tom had a good laugh when I finally realized I was eating a somewhat strange (although still meaty) part of a sheep - when I had thought I was getting roast beef. Roast sheep part - the waitress did baa-baa - the universal language of farm animals should've been understood. And yet I enjoyed it anyway - so much so that I ordered it the next day. There aren't a lot of restaurants in those parts, and this was one dish I knew did not have cheese.

So why was I pondering all these memories while I ate the chicken tagine I cooked tonight? I had a lot of time to think. I cook mostly alone these days, and mostly for a crowd (read: my children) that don't care much for anything that might smack of cuisine. They both delayed coming to the table tonight, and groaned and said, "Do I have to eat THAT?" It's so encouraging, no doubt.

So I sat in silence, pondering thoughts of better days around a tagine. Days when Ethan used to eat it up with gusto and say, "I really like the peas (chickpeas)." I think next week we may eat sandwiches and campbell's tomato soup for dinner. Maybe with some crackers, not sure though, that they can handle that. Better make sure they are Ritz. And not anything with whole grain, or a non-famous brand box. I will most certainly do something aggregious like put a piece of lettuce on the sandwich.

I do not exaggerate.

Well, maybe a little. And at least David occasionally gives a word of encouragement every now and then. It's hard to feel the love I used to have for cooking - the comraderie is about as important as the ingredients.

Kicking off the (Chinese) New Year Right

2012-01-30T22:51:00.007-07:00

Yesterday was a pretty action packed day. It started off nice, dark and sleepy around 4:45 am when I woke up before my alarm, a little (understatement) nervous for the run that lay before me. I'm not sure I would've signed up for it had I realized that it started at 7am, it was about an hour away, and I was supposed to be there around 6am. We know this - I am not a morning person.

The race was called the Wild Horse Trail Half-marathon, which was conducted on a fairly flat course near the Olympic Training Center at Otay Lakes. I was too wound up to take pictures, so I snagged this one from a google images search. The morning I was there wasn't quite this spectacular, but fairly close.

The last time I ran a half marathon was the Ripley Butte Challenge in Island Park, Idaho, in 2002. I had trained with David's sister Jen, who was staying with us in the summer between college to help out with the kids. What was most memorable about that race was two things: (1) We saw a dead moose, legs straight up in the air, on the way to the race, and (2) Lucy ran the kids 1 mile race (at age almost-3) and I think got 2nd place. Other memorable items included: grizzly bears knocking over water stations, racing at 7000 ft elevation, and staying in a cabin out in a field east of Ashton the night before. This event had little of that excitement.

It did have a lot of pussyfooting road runners attempting a trail run for what seemed like their first time. Seriously, people. Trails have rocks. Look down. Some trails are off-camber - be prepared for it. Walking gingerly across a difficult piece isn't necessarily safer than just going full bore with a decent stride. I was a little more than dismayed at the number of people going down on this course. It was essentially.... flat with very few rocks. I'm a little afraid what might happen to them on a real trail.

Of course to be fair, it was a little crowded. The crowd didn't thin out for me until about the 9 mile mark. Given that I usually run completely alone aside from my dogs, this was a little disconcerting for me. I think in the end it was pretty good for pacing, though, and it doesn't hurt me to actually see other humans every now and then.

This was one of those races I was pretty much just hoping to finish, although secretly I had some hope that my time wouldn't be completely awful. While I did fall apart around mile 10-ish, and struggled to hang on between 10 and 12.5, in the end I was pretty proud of my average (and proud that I could run that far at all). Although the official results are not yet posted, my time was around 2:08. My old cross country friends would certainly scoff at that time (a 9:45 min mile pace is not generally something to write home about), but for me at that distance, that's quite good. Sadly, I did the first 6 miles in 49 minutes which means the last 7 were abysmally slow. But in the grand scheme of things, it was still actually faster than that half marathon I did in 2002 - when I had been running distance much, much more regularly. I have no idea where I placed, as I didn't stick around drinking old-fashioneds at the Corner Restaurant & Bar to see the standings (might as well celebrate big, you know?). I saw a ton of women in front of me, as the race doubled back a bit, so I knew it was highly doubtful that I'd be top 3 in my age group. It's a little sad to be so middle/bottom-of-the-packish as compared to my cycling races, but it's definitely good to mix it up a bit (in my opinion).

I am fairly certain I'm going to sign up for the next race in the series - another half marathon on trails, except this one is a whole lot closer to my house. I'm just pausing a little before signing up to make sure I can walk again within a few days before I sign up for the next one.

After brunching and indulging at the Corner, David and the kids met me and we decided to wander around the GasLamp Quarter a bit. We ended up running across the Chinese New Year celebration, which was pretty cool - especially given that Lucy has just started studying Chinese this last year in school.

I know a good bed when I see one.

We spent the remainder of the day searching for our next house - which is an exciting, but daunting prospect. When $600K starts to sound reasonable, you know you're in California.

Living in the Moment: It happens to be tangy

2012-01-27T19:31:00.010-07:00

I started this blog way back when to convince myself that I didn't hate Idaho as much as I thought I did. Going with the philosophy, "Act how you want to feel", I usually focused on the mountains and hiking and cross country skiing - I ended up convincing myself so well that for a good part of the time I've lived in California, my mind has still been in Idaho. It's really time for that to change.

In addition to the hiking and trail running I gushed about yesterday, another thing about my crazy house is completely memorable and over the top exciting - the plethora of citrus trees. The picture at right is of the tangelos - which, according to Wikipedia, "are a citrus fruit hybrid of tangerine and pomelo or grapefruit. Widely known as honeybells, tangelos are the size of an adult fist, have a tangerine taste, and are juicy at the expense of flesh."

"Juicy at the expense of flesh" - love it. Who knew wikipedia was so poetic?

Their juiciness does not, in fact, disappoint. Ours are maybe more on the side of grapefruits in terms of flavor, but it really depends on how ripe you pick them.

Right now my very favorite are the ones pictured at left - what I call the clementines, although I don't technically know what they are - except flippin' fantastic. They can tend to have a lot of seeds, but it's totally worth it. And anyway, who'd want to miss the chance of standing on the deck and spitting seeds? This tree is literally weighted down - even if I ate my weight in them (which I daily attempt to do), I don't think I could possibly eat all of them. It's blossoming right now too. Heavenly.

My mom's favorite on her last visit were the navel organges. The bumblebees are loving this tree right now, too. It unfortunately doesn't produce as much as the others - so we treasure them when they are ready.

I also can really get into the classic tangerines, which I especially crave after a long run. These tend to not have seeds and be on the tangy side - go figure.

And then last but not least - the old standby, the lemon.

These trees have been going full bore since the day we moved in. The thin skinned ones have an incredibly light yet intense flavor and hardly any seeds. You can squirt half of one in a dish it completely brightens it without a strong lemon taste - and yet if you make lemon bars with these, the lemon flavor does not disappoint.

And don't forget the lemonade.

I often spend Fridays doing not much at all after about noon. I look forward to this "nothing at all" tremendously - working ahead so that I can take off for my favorite places - like, the library, La Costa coffee house, and the beach chair by my pool. Today I had a special friend to keep me company.

I have always wanted to live in a place with fruit trees - never dreamed it would be citrus - but we don't always know what's best for us ahead of time.

Anybody have any great ideas for what to do with all the bounty (aside from giving it away - which I am also happy to do)?

Putting my soles to the dirt

2012-01-27T00:13:00.004-07:00

As random collections of thoughts go, this post ought to be about as good as any. I was thinking about a lot of things lately - namely, flowers, trails, the amazing views of flowers and mountains I get from my trails, perfectionism, and also Wordsworth. Because I love Wordsworth. David knows that if Wordsworth were to be reincarnated and walk this earth today, I'd fall madly in love with him - there's just no hope. He knows and accepts this. It's not to be changed.

Our renting of this house on Valborg (that is the street name - and yes, both kids claim it's a name straight out of Vampire land - which it is) has brought an unbelievable range of experiences - from extreme happiness to extreme frustration. I'd never thought I'd get the opportunity to live somewhere I could hike out my back door with views of the ocean and mountains, and at the same time, I never thought I would gain the skills necessary to moonlight as a plumber specializing in septic maintenance (or a mouse killer, ant killer, beekeeper, etc).

So when I go on and on and on (and on) about how much I love the trails, it's really a coping mechanism. There really has to be a reason to keep on living in a place where my office has no electrical outlets, heat, or internet connection. And I do not exaggerate.

What is there to love? Well, it's hard to take good pictures, really, especially with a phone, which is about all I usually carry aside from the dog leashes. But here goes.

I call them "my trails" because I have only once seen another living soul on them. That was the day I did my 12.5 mile run, and a group of mountain bikers overtook me on the flats only to have me pick off the slow one and then chase one of the middle ones up the hill. He said, "You're real good motivation, you know that?"

So Wordsworth for the day. I just read these two poems, a sort of question and answer series. A friend of his asks him why he sits and stares outside all day pretty much doing nothing. He responds, eloquently (of course), and then writes a poem in reply asking his friend why he sits and reads books all day. The two poems are called "Expostulation and Reply" and "The Tables Turned (An Evening Scene on the Same Subject)".

My favorite excerpts:

"The eye - it cannot choose but see;
We cannot bid the ear be still;
Our bodies feel, where'er they be,
Against or with our will." (from "Expostulation and Reply" - part of the reply, of course)

"Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom in it.
...

"One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can." (from "The Tables Turned")

And lastly, what was that about perfectionism? Well, to segue into my occasional musings on this whole "Happiness Project" business (a book I mentioned earlier, to be somewhat of a theme every now and them)... at the beginning of the book, the author asks herself if the project was just another way to "extend my driven, perfectionist ways to every aspect of my life?"

I must ask myself the same question - because upon reading that line, I thought, good God, this woman is me (or any extremely type A person). However, as I began to think on the topics in the book and explore them and attempt them, I realized that there is a whole lot of letting go that must go on inside my little pea brain in order to make serious changes on my outlook. Perfectionism in the realm of happiness-seeking simply doesn't fit. For me, a happiness project is pretty much entirely an exercise in fighting perfectionist tendencies - not encouraging them.

Maybe I should be embarrassed to admit my mad skills

2012-01-24T23:28:00.006-07:00

So tonight I finally had the extreme pleasure of finishing my latest project. It's a little sad that I take so much pleasure in it, but it's something that doesn't involve typing, it involves something I have complete control over, and yeah, it's been a little chilly here lately so it will come in handy. At least, for tonight - as tomorrow it'll end up being about 75 degrees again.

I have been in a crocheting frenzy lately. Yeah, I said it - I crochet. And I don't just make blankets anymore. I have branched out.

Lucy is pretty much a perfect model. Here she is modeling my Saturday project - the Shells and Waves Skinny Scarf. I ended up going a little over the top and made it like 12 feet long, but hey - lots of wrapping possibilities.

Then I decided I wanted to branch out even more. I went a little crazy and picked a hat pattern - the Everyday Crocheted Slouch Hat. I am a bit ashamed to admit that I had to rip this apart and re-start three times. I'm not kidding. It's kinda pathetic, actually. But hey - today I finally finished it. And it sort of looks like the picture even. One of my attempts was going ok, then I tried to put it on my head and I realized that I have a ginormous head - and what the hell was I thinking picking the "small" adult size. Face the facts - your head is huge.

I over-compensated a little, and it's now very slouchy, but it least it fits over the noggin.

I am not nearly as good of a model as Lucy, but here goes. I think I look perhaps slightly less creepy than the girl on the pattern page - maybe.

And a close up - not the most flattering for me, but we're showing off the hat here...

I started this crochet kick last September, first by making Lucy a blanket for her bed, then Ethan. I had a lot of leftover yarn from Ethan's project, hence the new projects.

Perhaps I need to get out more?

Well, we managed to enjoy the weather a tiny bit this weekend, although it was in fact one of those rare San Diego weekends that involve a lot of rain, wind, and relative chill. It's not all milk and honey here - just mostly.

I'm open to orders if anyone decides they would absolutely ADORE having a handmade crocheted item. I might be starting a blanket for myself soon because I think the cost of the yarn and my time might be actually less than the cost of gas to heat my house - and it's damn freezing here - like 50.

The Best Afternoons

2012-01-21T13:16:00.004-07:00

Having gotten myself way ahead of the work curve with my New Mexico trip and preparation for it last week, I had the pleasure of enjoying a glorious Friday afternoon doing nothing at all. Southern California may have its down sides, but it's pretty much absolutely perfect for kicking back with a new book, an iced tea, and some extra-large leopard print shades.

I shouldn't say I did nothing at all - I spent a good amount of time playing farmer, picking the very best citrus I could find. It's citrus season, and it sure is on. I am taking requests for shipments. I occasionally make my way down to civilization and am happy to ship off boxes - although the length of lines at places like post offices is certainly NOT one of the positive sides of living in SoCal. But that's what smart phones are for, right?

So, yeah, this is sort of a random post, but it's more in the moment than I have been lately and it's a little something I am going to try to get back into. I want a little more honesty here - much to the chagrin of people like my sister who only poke around on here to see pictures (don't worry - I'll always include at least one picture!). The last book we read in my book club was called "The Happiness Project", and while I am usually loathe to read such self-help schmaltz, I found it to be rather enlightening. This book and some other fortuitous events have led me to start looking more toward the brighter side of life than I'm accustomed to - now, don't get me wrong. My posts will certainly NOT be filled with sunshine and rainbows from here on out (although I love a rainbow as much as the next person) - but I've sort of undergone an experiment in joy - or maybe it's contentment. Hard to say. It's certainly something worth exploring, I would think.

Balboa Park: My goto place

2012-01-19T20:33:00.007-07:00

There are some places that you can never tire of going to. They are your safe places, your havens, where you'd want to go if you had some time to kill - just to walk around, just to be there, to feel its energy.

Balboa Park is one of those places for me. I may no longer have the trails of the Tetons at my fingertips and the hiking I've experienced so far in SoCal leaves me a bit empty. Balboa Park is a fabulous answer to a problem so many cities confront - creating a believable natural space that at the same time offers tremendous social and cultural opportunities.

The kids and I had some time to kill last weekend after saying goodbye to my parents at the airport. So we headed off with plans to see the latest exhibit at the San Diego Natural History Museum, have lunch at the Tea Pavilion at the Japanese Gardens, and maybe catch the Botanical Garden.

San Diego grows some amazing succulents. Plants that you've only ever seen as house plants turn into these over-sized seemingly man-eating plants.

We hit the museum between exhibits, which was a little bit frustrating, but we enjoyed another walk through their gems exhibit - which if you haven't seen, is worth the trip. We also watched the 3D movie "Sea Rex" about marine reptiles, and epochs and eras and all that stuff I'd totally forgotten since the 3rd grade. I don't think they must have known too much about marine reptiles when I was in school ... but let's not go there, it makes me feel old.

Old and hungry - two things I don't love feeling. We allowed ourselves to get completely starving, as usual, but fortunately the Japanese Garden was not far away. There is nothing too special about the Tea Pavilion food - I just love it. It's simple, it's fresh, and actually, the tea is pretty special. I'm a basic person, you know? I just love a rice bowl.

We finished up with a walk through the Botanical Garden. While Ethan mainly saves his love and admiration for creatures (sea creatures especially), he has a soft spot for plants as well. I think we had the potential to stay there a lot longer (there are in fact tags on everything - which in Ethan's mind must all be read), but Lucy doesn't have Ethan's naturalist spirit. As they are getting older, it is getting to be a bit more of a challenge to balance their personalities and our family activity choices. It sounds so peaceful when I say like that.

Planet Z Bird: Lucy's latest 7th Grade Project

2012-01-19T20:02:00.002-07:00

This topic is almost too good to be true. I mean, seriously, just look at that thing. It pretty much speaks for itself.

But since it can't talk, it has two of the world's best advocates - why Lucy and David, that is. Want something ridiculous explained in a fairly plausible manner? You know who to call.

This project was a mass of toppled bottle bird belly and partially formed clay in the afternoon. By 9pm, it had a name, a history, a purpose, and it stood on two legs (and a beak). I knew to bow out of this battle, for David is a master at making something out of nothing.

Rather than continuing on in my own words, I give you Lucy:

Planet Z Bird

My bird is perfectly adapted to its environment. The ground is made out of red sand. The bird is red to blend in. Since the plants are not very tall the bird will be only tall enough to reach for nuts lodged in the ground. The harshly cold climate requires that the bird have a thick coat of feathers in order to keep warm. The main diet of the bird is nuts so it will have a sharp crooked beak so that it can pry open the nuts.

Since the amount of female birds is small the Planet Z bird has an extravagant array of feathers in order to attract a mate. It does this by making all the plumage along the body stand up. The eyes of the bird also play a big part in the attraction of a mate. In order to get the birds attention, it hypnotizes the potential partner with its swirling eyes. At this time of year my bird is molting off its feathers. The large talons are to crack open nuts. The wide feet are used to walk along the deep sand like snow shoes.

The early explorers of Planet Z nicknamed the bird George because its fanciful display of plumage reminded them of their leader George who wore a thick government issued red parka to protect him against the cold. However the Latin name for the bird also has a story behind it. The Latin name is aviarus seuss since the bird reminded the scientists of the illustrations in Dr Seuss’s children’s book.

Christmas was a long time ago - and a massive blur

2012-01-16T22:19:00.005-07:00

We returned from the infamous Maui trip via red-eye on Christmas Eve around 5:30am. We staggered off the plane with no more than 3 hours of sleep (if that, thanks to a screaming baby in first class! What is it with these screaming 1st class babies these days??) - staggered off and into our car headed north on "the 5" toward Livermore, CA, to spend Christmas with David's uncle's family and his grandparents.

If you ever take any bits of advice from my blog - take these three: (a) Don't ever try to drive after a red eye, (b) Don't ever drive the 5 between LA and San Francisco (if you can help it), and (c) Don't ever drive the 5 between LA and San Francisco after a red eye. It was (nearly) a freaking disaster. All four of our guardian angels were really, really over-taxed on that trip.

We started off ok - but then about an hour into it, I started to notice David's eyes closing about every 2-5 minutes. Like, literally closing and we would end up in a ditch closing. So, I decide to take over. Well, everyone else in the car fell asleep and no one was on sentry duty - I was on my own. I was in some kind of trance and the cars suddenly all stopped in front me and I jerked the entire car awake with a little extra cautious use of the brake.

So we decided maybe what we needed was some breakfast and a steady stream of caffeine. We landed at a most amazing little spot - the Harris Ranch which is somewhere in the middle of God awful nowhere in the middle of California where the air has a wonderful mix of smells - feed lot mixed with sulfur - ooh, reminds me of southeast New Mexico!

So what does one eat for breakfast at Harris Ranch? Why, steak, of course! What else would one eat for breakfast?

Another word of advice: steak for breakfast isn't exactly "get up and going" fare - it's more like stuff my poor little stomach 'til broke then go lie down on a nice soft bed until it all feels better.

Here's another problem. I have myself pumped up with so much caffeine half the time that when I really need to feel its effects, bucketloads do little or nothing.

Lesson learned: I must generally make better choices in life.

Well, too late for that one - back on the road after a half pound of steak, a half dozen eggs, and maybe a half gallon of coffee, we weren't all that much better off. We had a bit of an argument over whether or not to listen to the audiobook -

David, "Oh no, I really want to listen to the story."

Heather, "But his voice is putting you straight to sleep."

"No, no... I'm really into it."

"But your eyes keep closing" - poke, poke - "They are closing!! Wake up! We need to turn it off."

"No we don't."

"They are closing again!" - leg slap.

And so it continued, for quite some time, with me ever vigilant with slaps and pokes at the slightest sign of eye closing. I don't remember much of the story.

But we made it - in good time, actually, which is only more frightening when you think about the speed we must've been maintaining.

The whole time I was telling myself that surely this must be better than staying at home alone for Christmas with our broken septic system and resident mice up on the hill. Surely.

Well - I'd have to say that it definitely was, and the whole experience will surely be memorable. We had the chance to participate in the traditions of David's "California family" (of which we are now honorary members, given that we also emigrated west), and had a great time spending more time with his grandparents. Ethan got to build the most incredible Kynex double-loop roller coaster, and David and I met up with our friend Leonard to enjoy the Christmas Day night life of downtown Livermore at the "Good Time Tavern" where I was served the biggest gin&tonic I'd ever seen - surely to ensure I did in fact have a "good time".

Now that you suffered through all that text, I'll end with the photos. Some of the pictures are from our second Christmas, which was held when my parents arrived on New Years Eve. In addition to exchanging gifts with them, it was also my chance to redeem myself with David - I hadn't bought him a single gift to open on Christmas Day - I know, worst wife ever - you're looking at her. Seriously, I suck. So we took advantage of the several-days-after-Christmas sales and loaded him up with gifts.

Annette Vallon - by James Tipton

2012-01-15T18:04:00.002-07:00

Annette Vallon: A Novel of the French Revolution by James Tipton

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I read this book on my epic plane rides to and from Carlsbad, NM this last week. Sometimes the right book happens to fall into your hands at the right time, and I'd say this was definitely the case for this book.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I love a good historical novel at just about any time. And a historical novel set during the French Revolution? Practically irrestible. A novel based around the secret romance of Annette Vallon and the famous poet Wordsworth? Delicious.

I will say, however, that I was a little bit bad - and I am never, ever like this. I read about half of it on my way out on Monday, and I was so into it, I skimmed through the rest - especially the end, because I was kind of dying to know how it turned out. I was so bummed with the ending (I'll spare you the details!), that I almost didn't read the rest of it. I am so glad I did - the adventure basically started AFTER the die of her life had been cast. And it's a good lesson for us all - we don't always get what we want, but we can certainly make our lives amazing in spite of our disappointments.

I know, I sound so positive - it's... scary.

So, here are some of my favorite quotes from the book. I have decided to make myself take notes while I read this year so I have a better chance of remembering what I enjoyed - or the lessons I learned, or at least, so I have half a chance of discussing the book in the future.

p. 153 - "This is how William and the captain envision the Revolution, I thought, the man of aristocratic birth and the woman of peasant origins, sharing a wooden cup of wine. But such a vision only comes from the eyes of the truly good. It doesn't take into account the hatred and ambitions of men." -Annette

p. 445 - "Even a work about oneself is still a fiction, once one puts pen to paper, is it not?" he said. "What one chooses to say, what one chooses not to say, how one says it? It is all a fiction." -Wordsworth

p. 457 - Excerpt of a Wordsworth poem:

... those first affections,
Those shadowy reflections,
Which, be they what they may,
And yet a fountain of light of all out day...
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind.

p. 480 - "Things were the same in a place where they could not be touched by anything else, a place we knew to be true. And I understood that place to be where I was, now, and always.

I did not know if I would ever see William again, but I could hear his voice saying nothing had changed, and see his shining fifty-year-old eyes, and thought I truly knew what he meant now, and I suddenly laughed for the obvious joy and absurdity and sorrow of it all. Only the joy mattered now." - Annette

Old Mission San Luis Rey de Francia

2012-01-15T11:39:00.010-07:00

Last Sunday we deemed it to be Nanny's day (that would be my mom) - so she got to pick the activities. Not being accustomed to deciding activities with us, it was a little challenging for her - but not to worry, we provided lots of guidance.

The first choice was a bit driven by Ethan - lunch at the In-n-Out Burger. Pretty much everyone has to do this at least once on their visit to Southern California. You need to know what all the rage is about, right?

Is it as good as everyone claims? I'm going to risk saying "no it isn't", although I am sure there are those who will tell me otherwise - tell me to keep my vegetarian-wannabe opinion to myself - what do I know about burgers anyway? Especially when I don't eat it with the secret sauce? They have to ruin the whole experience by posting the calories next to the items - it makes it super hard to order even one of each of the menu items (burger, fries, milkshake) - when you know you are going to top over 1200 calories with just the smallest of each of the choices.

But you're going to want to do it anyway. It's a SoCal bucket list item.

Next up was a visit to the Mission San Luis Rey east of Oceanside. This was probably selected because of my influence, to be honest. I have been wanting to visit here for some time (missed the Dia de los Muertos celebration!) and thought this might just be the opportunity to see it. Why I am so attracted to missions and other places of spiritual retreat? Hmm, not up for that kind of self-analysis on a Sunday morning.

Part of it is definitely the ties to history - the fact that in so many places around the world the places of worship tend to be the places that survive time, the places that are maintained, the places people want to keep - in spite of the forces of time and revolution that may want to knock them down. So I head to these places - in the Netherlands, in France, in Hawaii, throughout the US.

Rather than describe in detail the mission, I'll provide a bunch of pictures, with a comment here and there. I'd definitely recommend this for a day trip if you live around here. I'd also definitely recommend you borrow Ethan for your tour guide, as he learned just about everything there is to know about California missions in the 4th grade last year, and with his cuteness and sincere earnestness, draws the best information out of the volunteers.

I took the following shots in one of the inner courtyards. Note that all of these pictures were taken with my cellphone, so the quality isn't exactly there - but hopefully the feeling is. I, of course, made a huge spectacle of myself, banging one of the doors super loud while we were trying to move noiselessly around, enjoying the peaceful setting - my mom made some smart remark about me being the novitiate everyone else would roll their eyes about.... Thanks, mom. Maybe that's why I am so intrigued by these places - I would fit in so very poorly.

The mission is still actively used as a place of retreat, and even has real honest to goodness friars still living there. This courtyard area is part of the retreat area - take special notice of the large pepper tree in the background - the first pepper tree in America (the kinds of things they highlight are always interesting...).

That last photo was a picture of one of the stations of the cross - the first ever I'd seen outside.

The last area we visited on the property was the Lavanderia, where the neophytes took their laundry to wash and (I would suppose) enjoy the gardens.

After the little retreat to the mission, we headed to the coast and enjoyed strolling the Oceanside pier. Although we missed the day's official surf competition, we got to see the best-of-the-best showing off their skills on the north side of the pier.

Yes, I am still talking about Hawaii

2012-01-14T20:05:00.016-07:00

Because Hawaii is that freaking awesome.

So, last I left you we had had a pretty tough day. Following our directive of switching through family members to decide the day's activities, the next day was to be my day. Everyone was kind of doubting my choices as I laid them out - but in the end, they were completely wrong. How could a day centered around eating fabulous local fresh food and wine tasting go wrong?

It can't, really. Unless you get food poisoning from something. Which we didn't.

There was a whole lot of complaining as we set off on our day - David regretting a day not spent in the waves (when did David become such a surfer dude?), the kids thinking my choices were sure to be boring - I have that reputation.

Day 5 was a tour of the Maui Upcountry. We started at the Surfing Goat Dairy. Kind of a questionable choice for the lactose-intolerant, but it turns out, I could indulge (or over-indulge, as the case may be) without too much worry.

We showed up here around lunch time - and it didn't disappoint. We skipped the tour of the dairy in favor of sitting in the wind-shelter made out of surboards and surfing kites and feasted our hearts out on about six types of goat cheese.

And after we gorged ourselves on the cheese sampler, we devoured the hands-down best cheesecake I ever had. Passionfruit-(goat)cheese cake.

Next up was the Ali'i Kula Lavendar Farm. I chose this place for a couple of reasons - (a) I smelled the shampoo in the hotel store and wanted to go to the place that created that fabulousness, and (b) I knew David would die of happiness taking flower photos. The views alone were worth the drive - from this spot you can see the narrow strip of land that joins east and west maui and the ocean all around. Your foreground is littered with fields of fragrant lavender. The bottom gardens are filled with the most other-worldly flowers. What could be better?

This pause in pictures brought to you by Marcel Proust, as quoted on the Ali'i Kula Lavender website:

"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy. They are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."

And last but not least, there's me. I have to learn not to smile with such a cheezy smile.

I am a little bit lavender crazy at the moment, although I still don't like to eat it. They had pastries and such with lavender for sale (like chocolate lavender brownies) - and really? I'm not a believer. It's great for shampoo, though. I washed my hair in products from Ali'i Kula the day I left for my last work trip, and I had a whole lot of sensual enjoyment smelling my hair on the plane - because God knows there isn't anything else good to smell and/or do on a plane.

So how do you follow up the lavender farm? With wine tasting, of course! Out on the tip of that spot of land with fantastic views of the coast.

Well, wine tasting in Maui isn't exactly like wine tasting in Sonoma, but if you have an open mind, the flavors are fresh and, at least, intriguing.

The Tedeschi Vineyards offer a few red vintages, but mainly you should go here to try out pineapple wine - because you pretty much won't get it anywhere else. And around the holidays, they have a raspberry wine-like substance that, if you are not totally turned off by sweet alcohol, will knock your socks off.

The kids had a great time on the grounds taking pictures of each other.

And how do you follow up wine tasting? I pretty much fit the definition of glutton fairly well, because my idea of a good time is all day feasting, where I follow wine tasting with gelato indulgence. But seriously, look at this case. It's so gorgeous you pretty much HAVE to eat it.

My choice? - Dairy free dark chocolate gelatto - I'm glad that's not available to me on a daily basis - because I'd pretty much have to give up all other foods in favor of eating only that.

My kids are so silly - they always went for the Hawaii shave ice.

And then? Seriously, I love food. Ahi tuna taquitos at a famous Mexican spot in Pa'ia - followed up by (after a timely call from the police telling me about my husband locking his keys in the car and being stranded) a huge Mai Tai filled with aged rum and a shared Hawaiian specialty fish platter at the world-famous Mama's Fish House.

(David managed to obtain the keys with a visit from the rental car company - and yeah, we made it home)

This will be my farewell to Hawaii, and fittingly, I'll end it with a few rainbow shots. We saw at least one rainbow on every single day we were there. Every freaking day. Go to Hawaii if you ever get the chance!

The Vacation Hump Day

2011-12-20T21:19:00.004-07:00

I think you may know what I'm talking about. You might not know right away, but when I describe its symptoms, you will most likely recognize it.

It's usually about right in the middle of the vacation. Everyone somehow starts getting on everyone else's nerves. No one knows what they want to do. Fights can erupt. Words are exchanged. Maybe it's a day of unexpected rain. You've come to what seemed like paradise for the first many days, then all of a sudden, somehow the place (and perhaps your traveling companions) have lost their charm.

And yes, this even happens in Hawaii. It probably doesn't help that we've been experiencing periodic showers that have finally developed into pretty consistent rain.

But before I start sounding completely ungrateful, I will say that the moment is passing. We got it out of our symptoms, and yeah, I think it happens to everyone. It's pretty darn natural. It's still Hawaii - and I don't think I will ever forget the experience of seeing all of those amazing fish (if only the storms would stop and the water can clear up so we can see them again!).

On the plus side, I'm getting lots ... and lots ... and lots of time to workout. It's starting to feel a little like bootcamp. Hmm, so is that in fact on the plus side?

I'll end with a question and a picture of sunset ... am I the only one who experiences the vacation slump? Or is this a common experience? What usually gets you through it?

Hawaii Days 2 and 3: Maybe just hanging around the resort is more fun

2011-12-20T00:24:00.008-07:00

At the close of Day 3, sipping a pinot noir and listening to the waves crash, I have some time to ponder the last few days and have concluded that perhaps renting the car was somewhat unnecessary in Maui. Or at least, maybe it tempts you to do things that aren't as fun as they sound in the tour book. More on that in a moment.

Day 2 was an interesting mix. David and I started out the day by squeezing in my "long run" for the week. I am currently up to 11 miles - which is a distance that's surprisingly hard to do in West Maui without doing routes twice or running along a fairly busy highway. We got some advice from a concierge who happened to be a runner himself - advice that took us off the resort properties and up into "No Trespassing" territory in the hillsides above the coastal areas. Mostly we just ran back and forth along the coast, but here's a shot of David up in the field looking out toward Lanai in the distance.

That run nearly killed me. Running up the hillside midway through the run about did me in (1 mile at about 6%), and then we ran another 4-5 miles. That kind of running seems a little anti-aloha-spirit.

Ethan is a very persistent child, and ever since he golfed with David in Las Vegas this past Thanksgiving, he has been looking forward to golfing in Hawaii. He was so much of a broken record about it, that David finally gave in yesterday. That sucked away an entire afternoon, but Ethan really had the time of his life.

Lucy and I spent the afternoon at the Whaler Village shopping area (hence the whale bones in back of Lucy), and then did some extended ocean swimming/fish viewing. I won't call it snorkeling because our snorkel gear leaves more than a bit to be desired and we've given it up in favor of just swimming with goggles.

This was all followed with a nice steak dinner in the villa. Aside from my incessant whining and general crabbiness from excessive leg pain (I'd missed two runs during the week and was paying for it), all in all a nice relaxing day.

So what possessed us to leave this Eden today? The accursed guidebooks, that's what!

I think those of you who have been to Maui know what I'm going to say.... the Road to Hana.

It started off happy enough. We were all loaded up with dramamine, ready to take on anything the curves and David's driving could bring.

We even had good spirits while being rained on on our nature walk, an early stop. It is a rainforest, after all, although Ethan didn't so much enjoy slipping and falling in mud. Still, the general mood was pleasant and we were completely loving the rainforest scene.

Really, it was a bit like being in the middle of a Planet Earth movie. Completely awesome.

But that was at mile...hmm... maybe 10. Maybe at 11 there was a cool waterfall. At the halfway point, we had what David deemed "the best banana bread ever" and some earth-shattering Hawaiian shave ice.

This should've been the turnaround point.

It's a little like driving through Yellowstone. The first bison you see are so freaking amazing. As are the elk. By the time you are about halfway around one of the loops (and are too far gone to cut the loop short), you are pretty much honking at the idiots still photographing the bison and just generally pent up like a Manhattan taxi driver. This is also the feeling one might get on the road to Hana.

And then Hana itself is so.... unexpectedly plain. Truly plain. And we ate at the much lauded Hana Ranch Restaurant - nothing to write home about, unless you want a good illustrative example of "Island Time" - which you could write in depth about while you wait for your food. You could drain two glasses of water and two huge mugs of coffee. You could sharpen your pencils and write an outline. And then, maybe you'd get your food.

And you would be rather unimpressed. David and I were not terribly impressed with Hawaiian food when we went to the Big Island either - hence our mostly eating in the condo. You don't want to spend $100 for lunch at a place that should cost about $25.

At least the breezes coming through the window were nice.

We spent a good deal of the drive back discussing why we shouldn't listen to tour books.

Fortunately, none of us ended up carsick - and David really did do a good job with the driving. It could've been SO MUCH worse.

He redeemed the day a little bit (from his perspective) with a stop at a beach on the north side of the island for some boogie boarding. We saw some absolultely draw-dropping wind surfing near Paia... the surf culture here kind of puts SoCal to shame.

The drive to Hana: my advice? Don't be tempted! Take David's advice and find a National Geographic movie on it online and watch it in your hotel room in the evening when you're tired from having beach fun.

I'd love to hear other people's opinions on the "Road to Hana" - I'm sure some of you out there have done it! Anyone find it life-altering (in a good way), as is so generously claimed in all the tour guides?

Do you people never tire of getting wet?

2011-12-17T22:42:00.008-07:00

This is what I just asked of my family as they went off, yet again, to enjoy a water pasttime. It is now well past dark in Hawaii, but luckily for them there are tiki torches and lots of pools.

Today was our first full day in Hawaii. I really am sitting here typing with my door open, listening to the ocean, the breezes (or... heavy winds, let's be honest), and the distant sounds of polynesian drumming (not kidding). Today was amazing. I had absolutely no idea what I was missing out on about 7 years ago, the last time I was in Hawaii - when I couldn't get over the panic of putting my face in the water to snorkel.

I should specify - we are in Maui, West Maui actually - Ka'anapali to be specific. We made the epic trek yesterday to LA (of course preceeded by the dogs untimely running away - yet again). David at one point actually lost hope that we would be seated in first class - yet strangely, I never did. Alas, he and I did enjoy a comfortable visit in the first class cabin while our children suffered in Economy Plus - but the screeching toddler and man-with-no-plane-etiquette directly in front of me attempted to steal my glee at my first class good fortune. If I had paid for that seat, I would've been SO upset.

But I didn't, so I remembered to be grateful that I had that wide seat, yummy meal, and seemingly ever-filling wine glass. I think those 1st class stewardesses are fairly hell-bent on seeing you stagger out of the plane. Or perphaps pass out and stop asking for things.

I resisted. I knew we had a long night ahead, and although we did indeed have an extended night, we ended up arriving at our fabulous destination safe and sound - about all you can hope for.

David and I were taking on the kids' role this morning. While the kids slept in their ultra-dark room until past 8am, David and I were literally up at the crack of dawn, excited to see what lay out our front door. Awesomeness, that's what!

I typically hate first floor rooms - but in the case, when the 1st floor opens out onto an ocean view and an expansive warm-enough pool - I'll take it.

My family pretty much laughed at me when I asked them to acknowledge my bravery today - but although they pushed it off, it was a huge, huge milestone for me. Today was the first day I have ever swam in the ocean - honest to goodness swimming, out more than about 5 feet from the shore, for any significant length of time. And I put my face in the water. Full on, face in water. All those times I was laughed at by them learning to swim, all those embarrassing days at the masters swim team in Idaho - they all paid off. Because I was finally secure enough in my swimming abilities to do what I had dreamed of when I failed to snorkel the last time I was in Hawaii.

I had NO IDEA it was as awesome as it is. Ethan simply cannot get over it. I am surprised we can get him out of the water at all. Lucy enjoys it nearly as much, if not equally. We have extensive coral right there - a very, very short swim from the beach, and you are viewing "brain coral" (Ethan may have asked 600 times, "Did you see the brain coral?"). Many of the coolest fish we've been admiring in the finest mainland US aquariums can be found right off our shores. Much of the cast of Finding Nemo was spotted - moorish idols, schools of yellow tang, parrotfish, and yes - the amazing sea turtle that I, unfortunately, did not see (because I had a defective snorkel set!). I wish I had some pictures of this amazing experience - but it's definitely something that I do not want to forget.

Ethan simply doesn't stop talking about it. For the boy who adores aquariums, it is pretty much a dream come true. Relaxing his head back in the hot tub, he stated, "This is going to be a vacation to remember."

Indeed.

Ethan is very quotable. It's fun to spend lots of time with him just to wait for the gems.

We were talking about negative people, and Ethan shouts with real earnest, "I'm NOT a negative person, I'm in the middle!"

Shortly after, David asks him why his hair is so awesome, and he says blandly, "I condition it twice a day."

His delivery is hard to replicate in the blog, but if you know Ethan, you can imagine it.

Lucy, on the other hand, is rather blown away by the teenage dream awesomeness that this resort delivers - it is very family-oriented, which means lots of families - that bring their teenage boys with them. From Australia. Lucy is a sucker for an Australian accent. She is hoping for one of those Disney-channel-show dramas - we, on the other hand, are not.

The day also involved some tennis playing, some running, some swimming, some more swimming, some eating, and then some more swimming. That's why I'm writing right now - because while I have definitely come a long way, I can only take so much swimming. Oh, it involved some weight lifting, too. I am hoping I return to California so buff as to be unrecognizable.

Some pictures. Sorry - for those of you who read me through Facebook, you've already seen these - but I need to make sure the blog stays illustrated as well. I'll try to pepper it with a few different shots.

I saw at least half a dozen rainbows today. Lucy said, "I guess there's a reason rainbows are on the license plate."

This is a fairly bad photo, but it's the only one I had my camera with me for.

I followed them out the last time they went into the ocean, and took some shots of them leaving the water - one posed, one not so posed. All good memories.

I am hoping to get some better sunset pictures this week! This is all I have for now, so I conclude.

A View From Above

2011-12-15T20:51:00.002-07:00

That little red speck just to the right of the middle of that picture is our current household. That blue fuzz along the horizon? That's the ocean. The gorgeous green hills all around? That's our current view.

I'll tell you what - it BETTER be gorgeous. It hasn't been the easiest place to rent. It will be a memorable experience, for more than one reason.

Make sure to visit us while you can (i.e., prior to June 2012) - it's worth the trek up the mountain side, if only for the fantastic tangerines... and the sunsets... and the sunrises...and if you're one of my dogs, the ability to run away to the most fabulous locations - like filthy ponds loaded with ducks so you can try to hunt (unsuccessfully, because they are huge dorks) and return smelling like pond scum. Awesome.

I like to "run away", too - and I've indulged in maybe too much trail running here because it is just THAT GOOD. This picture was taken from a trail I take that runs above our house to a moderately high peak (maybe 1500ft-ish). It's almost a straight run up - but not too steep ever, nice and steady - the perfect trail run.

The Cake That Lived

2011-12-15T19:44:00.006-07:00

We have had a long, rocky relationship with the Hershey's chocolate cake recipe. When I say "we", I really should just come right out and specify just me - but I'm including some of my family in this one, as they've contributed to the love-hate relationship.

This was the first cake I tried to make (or, at least, I imagine it was - because I would always choose chocolate cake for my birthday). And it was the first cake I screwed up. My memory has it that I flubbed it by incorrectly using these teaspoons my mom had that had two lines - one representing 1 tsp, and then full representing 1.5 teaspoons. I mean, come on - who does that. That would be the worst user interface design for baking spoons EVER. I was thirteen. I remember tears, I remember some yelling - David claims he is absolutely positive my mom remembers it differently. This is most likely true.

I went on to successfully learn to bake a cake and was fairly well-known among my Idaho friends for having some decent cake skills.

Except for the Hershey's chocolate cake, because in Idaho (high altitude), the recipe kind of fell apart. My mom came to the rescue yet again, and figured out the perfect high altitude modifications. This did not solve my problem, however, of forgetting the salt one fateful Lucy birthday - chronicled here, titled something about the worst cake ever. This event involved David trying to save the day by putting the salt in the icing. Yeah, salt in the icing - I said that right. He just really likes to solve problems.

Then came last Saturday. This time I was not involved in the making of the batter. This time it was 12-year old Lucy who mixed it up. And to be fair to Lucy, we didn't have all the ingredients so she had to put the partly-done batter in the refrigerator while we did about a million errands before returning to the cake. We didn't really have time to wait until everything got back to room temperature, and to be honest, I've seen more precise measuring than the kind Lucy does. So the fact that the one cake came out with a huge depression it it (and I mean huge), is not all that surprising. The fact that David took a large wooden spatula and hacked up the sides of the cake to loosen it from the pan was in fact a little surprising, and well, I think Lucy and I made him feel bad enough for that already.

Or did we.

David probably shouldn't find himself doing anything with baked goods except eating them. His personality does not lend itself to precise measurements or patience or slowness. It's better suited to activities that work up an appetite for baked goods, rather than making the goods themselves. Or pancakes. Everyone LOVES David's pancakes. Secret ingredient: butter. How much? LOTS.

Anyway, back to the cake layer with the absolutely hacked up edges and the divot in the middle. The other layer was... perfect? Really, it was. How odd.

We were making this cake for his company's Christmas party, so while normally I might've just pitched the thing and eaten frozen yogurt instead, we were committed to bringing a dessert. And I can't exactly just go buy something. That would be... ruinous to my image. So I decided to try to salvage it (Lucy was happily off to a sleepover at this stage).

I saw a container of organic peanut butter on the counter that was about gone, and I said -- hmm. That divot is kind of like the well in the middle of a Reese's peanut butter cup. And I've got peanut butter. And butter - and everyone LOVES butter (this has been demonstrated earlier). What if I tried to make a filling like in a peanut butter cup - and so I got out the good ol' Joy of Cooking and modified the peanut butter fudge recipe based on what I had and the consistency I wanted - and - there you had it, I replicated the inside of a peanut butter cup and the cake called "Peanut Butter Surprise" was born.

"Surprise" because the divot was unhelpfully NOT in the middle of the layer - hence, it was going to be surprise to see if the first pieces cut contained peanut butter or not. Also surprise because who stuffs peanut butter fudge inside a cake?

People that live by the "more butter is always better" rule, and the fact that many people who love chocolate cake also love peanut butter. It's not like I stuffed it with hummus.

Then I topped it with chocolate frosting, also from Hershey's - which I adore. In fact, I'm thinking of doing a Hershey's chocolate frosting "cleanse" - meaning, I eat nothing but that for an entire day. Sounds fabulous.

So what did this cake end up looking like? Somehow the completely mangled ends did not end up mucking up the smoothness of the icing, and magically, it almost looked flat. We'll call it flat-ish. It was the best anyone could've hoped for. I photographed it in fact for Lucy to prove that not all was lost! I couldn't imagine her believing me that it wasn't an unholy mess. It was THAT bad.

We ended up returning from the party with just a few pieces left - which we, of course, ate for breakfast.

By Request: Gluten-free Chocolate Cookies

2011-12-10T15:47:00.003-07:00

I have been asked for this recipe repeatedly off and on for at least the last two years - if not longer. I found it in a Cooking Light magazine, not even advertised as gluten free - however it is in fact a gluten free recipe (as long as you double check that the ingredients aren't contaminated).

Deep Dark Chocolate Cookies
Subtitled: "Made without butter or flour, these dense chewy cookies will satisfy even the most intense chocolate craving."
(And not make your gluten or lactose intolerant friends ill!)

Makes about: 24

Nonstick vegetable oil spray
1 1/2 c. bittersweet chocolate chips (about 9 ounces), divided
3 large egg whites, room temperature
2 1/2 c. powdered sugar, divided
1/2 c. unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon salt

Preheat oven to 400°F. Spray 2 large baking sheets with nonstick spray. Melt 1 cup chocolate chips in glass bowl in microwave, stirring twice, about 2 minutes. Cool slightly.

Using electric mixer, beat whites in large bowl to soft peaks. Gradually beat in 1 cup sugar. Continue beating until mixture resembles soft marshamllow creme (it looks fabulous!). Whisk 1 cup sugar, cocoal, cornstarch, and salt in medium bowl to blend. On low speed, beat dry ingredients into meringue. Stir in lukewarm chocolate and 1/2 cup chocolate chips (dough will become very stiff).

Place 1/2 cup sugar in bowl. Roll 1 rounded tablespoon dough into ball; roll in sugar, coating thickly. Place on prepared sheet. Repeat with remaining dough, spacing 2 inches apart. Bake until puffed and tops crack, about 10 minutes. Cool on sheets on rack 10 minutes. Transfer to rack; cool.

I only had trouble with the dough being difficult one time - and I think it seemed dry - but I was in the high desert at the time (Idaho) - probably winter and about 2% humidity.

This is like mini chocolate lava cakes. Absolutely fabulous. Much better than the gluten/lactose free junk I've come across!

Snowshoeing in Moose Creek

2011-11-25T14:44:00.011-07:00

Since there are no moose in California, you probably have already guessed that we did indeed make our annual Thanksgiving trek back to the Teton Valley. And in pure Teton Valley style, we are waiting out blizzard-like conditions before heading back south again. Hence all the time to post. Oh yeah, and the men in my family decided to spend the day skiing in this. I am sure I will get to hear how fabulous it was. It's also nice to be near a fire and dry while the wind rages on out there - because although I may have braved the weather in the past to get in a cross country ski, I no longer have it in me after having been Californified.

Most of our visit, however, has been rather mild conditions for early winter Idaho. We almost saw 50 one day, and stripped down to base layer on several hikes. We took our first expedition on Tuesday with Ethan, and as the title suggests, we headed to the Moose Creek trailhead.

Assuming the snow wasn't quite deep enough for cross country skis, we took out snowshoes. We had to walk about 1/2 mile back the unplowed road to the start of the actual trailhead, and then enjoyed a nice climb up for about an hour before turning around. It was definitely ski-able, and we regretted our snowshoe choice a bit.

I am sure for those of my family members who have been reading the blog all along you really missed these snow pictures!!

One might wonder what would possess a person to leave San Diego in November (temperatures mainly in the 60s and 70s) for Teton Valley, Idaho.

Because I have a lot of time on my hands today, I have time to ponder that thought.

Part of it is of course because we have such wonderful memories of Idaho - specifically of the times we had enjoying the outdoors and otherwise at our Victor house.

And of course the main purpose of returning is to enjoy time with the friends we still have here. Lucy has been enjoying the week with her friend Camille, and Ethan has been inseparable from Owen. It is fantastic to have the opportunity for the kids to stay in contact with two of their best friends.

We even had the chance to enjoy a home-cooked Thanksgiving meal with our long-time dinner buddies - Wendy, Doug and family.

And on the dog front, our little coddled pup Shadow had his first cold and snow experience. I think if he could talk, he'd be telling us how much he absolutely adores the snow. While I experience nothing but leash aggression with him on trails in SoCal, here he is the perfect dog ambassador, greeting all dogs happily, so happily, that he tried to wander off with just about everyone we met.

I even took the requisite Idaho signage pictures - although I think both of these signs are technically in Wyoming. My favorite - the bear warnings (of course) - and yes, I do not believe that bears truly hibernate. They can always be feared. And then last but not least, our favorite wilderness - the Jedediah Smith Wilderness. We didn't get very far into it before Ethan started arguing hard for the turnaround, but we crossed the threshold nonetheless.

Happy Thanksgiving to all our family members and friends we couldn't join this year. Sometime we will all wise up and head to San Diego for these winter holidays!

Enjoying the wine country: Temecula

2011-11-25T14:18:00.004-07:00

Two Sundays ago we decided to take advantage of the break in the rain to head for Temecula, which is a town only about a half hour away from our current house. In spite of the attempts to commercialize the wine tasting business to a point where it is no longer fun, it can still be a great way to spend an afternoon. For the views alone it is worth the short drive.

This California wine country is pretty much unknown outside of southern California. Although it is a fairly new region, I have had nothing but delicious wines there of all kinds of varieties. We ended up joining the wine club of Europa Village, a European-style winery featuring outstanding Spanish (think Tempranillo), French (think Syrah), and Italian (Sangiovese) style wines. We came away with a full case of wine, most of which were a greatly reduced price 2006 Syrah. These wines joined our 2000 Bordeaux from France in the basement, although I can't be certain how long any of them will last. Knowing how often we move, it seems a little silly NOT to drink them up instead of carting them around with us.

This should be good news to all the guests we are hoping to host in the coming months. Other welcoming news includes the appearance of ripe oranges, tangerines, and tangelos on our trees. I picked about a half dozen before taking off on our yearly Thanksgiving Idaho adventure. Guests can also look forward to watching amazing sunrises over the eastern mountains, as well as fabulous sunsets over the distant Pacific.

I get up almost every day just prior to sunrise, but have only watched it once so far. Mainly I am afraid of the coyotes in the morning, but our daring dog duo of Sally and Shadow seemed to have pushed the coyotes a greater distance from the house.

Sarcastic Fringehead

2011-11-14T23:22:00.011-07:00

For now I am going to pretend like that title doesn't even exist.

Some day there will be 32 hours in a day and I will get everything I need to get done in a day done. But until that day, you'll have to put up with my summary blog posts that span weeks.

Today starts at Halloween. Lucy adores Halloween. Cast or no cast, wheel chair or no wheel chair, she was wearing her costume to school because she was allowed to.

Ethan's picture has also been included. You simply cannot see him as he was a perfect ninja.

Lucy also trolled the neighborhoods for candy, sending me up to ring doorbells and collect candy. How awkward is that. I felt a little bit like I was scamming people - like I should've had a collection can with her picture taped to it and some coins jingling around inside. I've got a lot of hangups, clearly - I mean, I know, what would I be scamming for? Some twizzlers? Some mini M&Ms packs? I felt like I had to tell a sob story. Really, the little kid handing out the candy is like, "Lady, take the dang candy! I don't need to hear your sob story! Sure you got a kid in a wheelchair, whatever!" I have a lot of unnecessary anxiety.

But when is anxiety EVER necessary. I digress.

I blame the anxiety on the Santa Ana winds. They literally do drive me completely insane. I become almost instantly sick (congestion, sneezing, headache) and just freaky in the head. I tried to take pictures of the wind so you could see how very strong it was - but it is impossible to convey the energy of that situation. Sometimes it wakes you up at 3am, sometimes it starts at 7am - you never know. You never know how hot it will get or how dry and scaly your skin will become.

I have been known to say of the picture at right, "I will climb up on that roof and take that damn flag down with my teeth if I have to!" Imagine said flag flapping around in a 50+mph wind on a rickety pole, and you'll get a sense of my state of mind.

Simple conclusion: I need to get out more.

But Southern California has its good moments as well, even if they have seemed fewer and farther between these days. Last Sunday was a particularly fine day for family fun - for in spite of constant rain in our hilltop home-cum-prison, we managed to squeak out an awesome day.

The LA Galaxy were playing Real Salt Lake for the Western conference championships last Sunday, and thanks to the fact that Americans have absolutely zero interest in soccer, we were able to score cheap tickets for the conference championship on game day. And due to Lucy's fortuitous surgery, we sat on special fold out chairs on the deck above the expensive section, where all the staff and season ticket holders sit.

Getting to see Beckham close up in the corner: priceless. Oh how I love a Beckham.

Of course the Galaxy one, which made it even better. We spent our time prior to the game wisely as well. We dined at a fantastic restaurant near the Long Beach aquarium - honestly, the name completely escapes me now - but it's right around the corner and upstairs. For every fish dish you order, you get a free ticket to the aquarium. You guessed it: we had fish for lunch. Which we would have anyway, but you gotta revel in the deal!

The Long Beach aquarium is a fantastic place - even Lucy enjoyed it, which is a near-impossible fete. Ethan declared it the best of all aquariums, which is quite amazing praise from the connoisseur of aquariums. And it was all free. Even better.

They have extensive exhibits both indoors and outdoors. It happened to be extremely crowded that day, but we could still see everything quite well.

David particularly enjoyed the lorakeet exhibit where you walk among the colorful, dive-bombing birds - which prompted Lucy to say, "This is something Nanny would definitely NOT go into!" "Nanny" is my mom, and she absolutely despises birds. They were flying all over the place. I have to agree - it was a little freaky.

And last but not least - the sarcastic fringehead. For its name alone, it wins the "best of the aquarium" award.

Things You Can Do in a Wheelchair: Visit Balboa Park

2011-10-30T11:52:00.004-07:00

With the inspiration of Gordy wanting to attend the police auction at Balboa Park, Lucy and I decided to join him on the trip and spend the morning at Balboa Park. This is one of my favorite places to go in San Diego - I have never been to a city park quite as beautiful as Balboa Park (and I have been to a lot of city parks!).

The police auction itself was kind of odd - never had been to anything quite like it before. It's kind of like the TV show American Pickers, but with an auction aspect. Like, a real live auctioneer talking at unbelivable speeds, peddling all kinds of stuff generally gathered from drug raids. It's maybe a slice of society Lucy and I didn't really want to be a part of. There was nothing exactly wrong with it - just felt a little... different.

So we headed off down the sidewalk to the main museum area of Balboa Park. The grounds are just incredible - the buildings are all very interesting, and there are numerous trails one can explore with incredible plant life (the "Palm Canyon" looked interesting - but too steep for the wheelchair).

We had settled on the San Diego Museum of Art for our morning activity, and were happy to find out that Lucy had free admission for the day. She was in a very positive mood for exploring the museum (she'd have been willing to do practically ANYTHING at that point that got her out of the house), and especially enjoyed the artifacts and scrolls from East Asia. Lucy is taking her first year of Chinese and loving it! It is cool to see her so into something like Chinese and Chinese culture.

They have a nice exhibit on Spanish painters at the museum right now - "From El Greco to Dali", and we took out time walking through that. It was good we did - because the museum was almost shockingly small. I guess that since the last art museum we were in was The Louvre, we'd think just about anything was small - but this was a very tiny art museum. Not as small as say, Idaho Falls, but probably not as big as say, Salt Lake's, either. Much of the first floor was taken up by more contemporary "art" (and I use that term loosely), which Lucy and I enjoyed mocking. Oh, don't get all high and mighty on me now! I loved Abstract Expressionism as much as the next person, back in the day - but I have to agree with Lucy - the art of the thing is more in the description on the tag than anything else. "It's just an excuse to say complicated things that don't mean anything"... that Lucy (that's an approximation, not an exact quote - but there was much discussion along those lines).

We also took a tour of the botanical gardens - a free option in the park. We'd been in the park several times before, but had never really taken the time to just... take our time.

We followed our siteseeing with lunch at the Tea Pavilion at the Japenese Friendship Garden. I enjoyed a filling curry chicken rice bowl, while Lucy tried out the Udon soup with chicken. And of course, we had tea - delicious tea in fact. Every time I have a good tea I say, "I should drink more tea" - but then never do.

You can tell a lot about people from how they treat a kid in a wheelchair. On the whole, I'd say people are falling short of my expectations - especially in the realm of pedestrian-car relationships. I mean, cars should stop for pedestrians in cross walks no matter what state the pedestrian is in - but I'd almost say they are even LESS likely to stop for a wheelchair than a regular pedestrian - as if to say, "You're going so slowly anyway, I mean, I can just get through here, like, really quickly and you'll barely be able to start going in that time." Not that anyone said that explicitly, mind you - but I have stood at more than one crosswalk with Lucy waiting and waiting for the flow of traffic to stop. It's a little sad.

Hiking Close to Home - Finding New Trails

2011-10-29T18:10:00.007-07:00

Now that Shadow is all healed up, I am heading out again on fairly lengthy hikes from the house in the hopes of "running them like dogs" so they don't continue to run away. So far, it is not at all working. About 30 minutes after the 1.5 hour hike/trail run yesterday, the dogs took off when Lucy left them out to the bathroom. After about another two hours of panic and driving around, the firehouse on Twin Oaks called and said they had out dogs. That would be about 1-2 miles away, across a large, major road. The dogs have a "taste of the gypsy" in them, and I am afraid it might be impossible to break this habit. It's quite a terrible habit, as it gets me all worked up, puts them in danger, along with anyone who might be swerving on the road to avoid them. It is really, really annoying.

But I still love to take them out on long hikes - it's my favorite thing about being a dog owner, really. And living close to trails is my favorite thing about living where I currently do. I always thought it would be dreamy to live close to trail running opportunities, but until recently, I hadn't been really taking advantage of it.

My current favorite set of trails starts about a mile or so from my house - just descend the awful precipice I live on, pass the pond currently occupied by the blue heron Sally would love to get her killer jaws on, and you have access to seemingly endless double track dirt trails. There's just a little locked gate to duck under, and you're on your way.

There are no "No Trespassing" signs on the gate, but a little up the trail you encounter a sign telling you exactly what kind of area this is.

This is a habitat conservation area, apparently. I'm pretty sure very few people know about it, except for the mountain bikers they are apparently trying to keep out (see the sign verbiage). There is ample evidence these trails are utilized by those type of folks, along with crazy rule breakers like myself with dogs off leash.

This is exquisite trail country. I've tried the trail branches in two of the three directions so far, taking the right branch all the way to the end today (it loops around the hillside bordering our property and stops at the top of the hill), and the straight on choice yesterday for quite a way (although there is more to explore, with lots of other choices to take). None of the hills are too steep, and there's even plenty of flat.

It's too bad I don't have a dedicated trail running buddy these days like the old Idaho days - well, except for the dogs. There's almost NEVER a bad running day in California, just maybe not a lot of people to share the pleasure with.

In Search of Fall: Palomar Mountain Apple Festival

2011-10-29T16:58:00.010-07:00

Last weekend was Lucy's last weekend of freedom from a cast, and while she was technically "free", she wasn't exactly sprightly and was still limited by the to-be-fixed foot injury. Yet we wanted to feel like we were out in nature - so, what to do?

On the North County Times website, they have a feature where they list the day's local events. I happened to notice the Palomar Mountain Apple Festival - there was the promise of pies, cider, apples, and more pies - somewhere at Palomar Mountain State Park. Lucy will pretty much go anywhere, do anything, for pie. She was sold.

Palomar Mountain is infamous in my own personal history from the epic bike ride of last spring, the Temecula Challenge - the only other time I had been to Palomar Mountain. Driving up the approximately 13 mile South Grade Road to the top of the mountain, I exclaimed more than once about the length, steepness, and twistiness of this hill. I also remarked how grateful I was that I didn't actually ever drive this prior to the race - because I think I would've scared the living daylights out of myself.

We were a little dismayed when we realized we'd have to drive up the entire hill in order to reach the apple festival - at least I got to say every time Ethan asked "How much longer is it!?!" - "At least you're not biking up this hill!" Oh, and there was the little distressing matter of the fact that I forgot to fill up the tank prior to entering this remote wilderness, and the light went on sometime on the ascent. More on that later.

The general store is a welcome stop right at the crest of the hill.

The apple festival itself was a few more miles along the ridge from where South Grade hits the top. The parking lot was tiny, there were some spots available, and I instantly had fears that we went all this way for nothing much at all.

Well, indeed this event was quite small, but the few things it did offer were worth the ride. First we all sampled some fresh pressed cider - fantastic. Eventually, we worked our way around to what I will call the dessert table - a small but loaded table absolutely packed with all kinds of delicious apple treats. Pies, crumbles, baked apples, apple sauce, apple chips, ... just about anything delicious you can think to make with apples they had. We did not leave this table too quickly after we found it.

Look at those lovely apple angels! Unfortunately, the abundance was NOT such that we could purchase an apple pie to take home - much to our chagrin.

See, the point of this festival was a little indirect. The apples, the cider, the apple desserts - all came from the century old apple orchard located within the state park. So, that's awesome, sure - but see, it turns out that Palomar Mountain State Park is on the governor's list of parks to close during 2012. Part of the purpose of this festival was to draw attention to the park's plight.

I don't think there's probably any stopping the closing, but there are groups attempting to get together on efforts to maintain the park for the forseeable future through its "closure" - because as one of the volunteers pointed out - "forever is a long time - and it probably won't be closed forever".

If you have never been there and are in the area, it is definitely worth the trip. In addition the the amazing views, there are incredibly large, old trees in the park. I am a sucker for old trees.

We ended the trip with some other typical fall festival activities - some apple bobbing followed by a little goat love.

Great Sunday afternoon drive - too bad there was no foliage.

In the Fog - Literally and Figuratively

2011-10-26T18:43:00.005-07:00

We were literally in the fog for many of the last few mornings and evenings - and sometimes throughout the whole day. This is an extremely common phenomenon in the California coastal regions. One might usually think of San Francisco when she thinks of fog - but anyone who's lived in North County knows that southern California is no stranger to fog.

One morning (I think it was Sunday) - we awoke to a pretty remarkable arrangement of fog - we were exactly RIGHT above the fog - just barely - enough to see it lying in all the canyons looking like a super shiny sea.

Lucy also found herself in a fog yesterday, having undergone foot surgery to remove the extra bone from her heel and repair the general structure. Poor kid was completely thrown for a loop by the anathesia and pain-killers. She is truly tough as nails, but this got to her like nothing I've ever seen. One thing I will say, though, is there's a girl who knows who to self-advocate! No hesitation on buzzing the nurse for - whatever. Completely clear with her needs and desires. I was very impressed. It is sad to say - but I could use a little training from Lucy on that front.

We also had a little drama with my dogs taking off on their own "walk" - having been limited with Shadow's recent injury and forced rest - and probably also frustrated with me being gone - they took off down the road on our usual long walk path. Someone found them near the busy road and although they were sitting on the side, decided they were in danger and took them in for the evening (this was around 4pm). I suppose I am of the belief that I am grateful in the sense that the coyotes (and potentially, mountain lions) are enough of a menace that if we hadn't found them before dark - they may have been in true danger. Not to mention the road - because while they are usually good about the road, they can both be a little goofy - like the pre-teen and teen they are. The woman who took them in was good enough to call the # on the tag, and although she was pretty fond of Sally, decided returning them was the right choice (am I the ONLY one who likes poor Shadow?).

We are all super grateful to be home together now, although Lucy is certainly less than comfortable - and not exactly happy. This, too, shall pass.

Odds and Ends: Adobe Ruins, Long Beach, and how many dead snakes I saw on the Daily Ride

2011-10-20T17:39:00.006-07:00

Having completely failed in my renewed attempt to ride my bike every day yesterday, I tried to at least squeeze in a walk at the park where my son has soccer practice. The fog lately has been thick to the point of distraction - I was sure I wouldn't be seen on the road yesterday, so I passed - claiming safety reasons. I used to be able to ride during soccer practice, but the practice starts at about when it's now starting to get dark. Riding in the dark, while possible, also violates my personal safety rules. Most every story I've heard about recently of a fatal bike accident occurred at night.

So with that cheerful start, I provide you some pictures from my walk. I came upon this internally lit, walled in structure - seemingly a huge pile of rock and dirt. I audibly said, "What the...", as will you.

You can see from that bit of sign (possibly) that it's adobe ruins from an original Mexican rancho established here in the 1800s - the spot eventually became a stop on the stagecoach. Never really thought of this area as being on the stagecoach route (somehow west Texas just looks more the part), but guess you learn something new every day. Also scratched my head a bit thinking on why this pile of dirt has to be illuminated at night, but these are probably the kinds of questions I shouldn't start asking myself. I do live in California after all. It's not supposed to make sense.

The Long Beach reference is to the night David and I spent there, celebrating his birthday (much belatedly), on October 1. We started the evening with the LA Galaxy v. Real Salt Lake Game, and then had a fantastic three-course meal at an Italian restaurant near the harbor. I have to say - seeing Beckham play was truly one of the most wonderful sporting event experiences I have ever had. He really is every bit as good as people say he is. I wish I had a little picture of him and I together, a little photo op, if you will - but alas. They keep him far, far away from the adoring fans. Some time maybe I'll sit in one of the corners so I can see him up close on corner kicks - that's where all the Beckham die-hards sit.

We stayed in the Renaissance which had an awesome view. That David - he travels in style: "Sir, would you like the wine and fine nuts or the wine and fruit/cheese plate? And when would you like us to deliver the champagne and strawberries?"

He travels like that for work all the time - it's a little sick, really. I'm lucky if I have running water in my "motels", and here he is selecting from the finer things in life. He suffers with those choices, truly.

And then back to the question of the day - how many dead snakes did I see on my bike ride? Well, I saw exactly three dead snakes on my bike ride today - and no, I don't have any pictures - thankfully. I have found my new favorite daily ride, though - it basically goes around the little uprising I live on - through the "Elfin Forest" where you pass roads called "Wild Willow Hollow" and "Harmony Grove". There are real, actual trees on this route, and for the benefit of time and efficiency, very few stop signs or lights. Every turn is a right turn, which makes for smooth going.

Except for the fact that the part through Elfin Forest is sort of canyon-like and funnels the perennial west wind in your face the entire time - but hey, west wind in my face, the smells of animal dung, no designated bike lane - brings back fond Idaho memories!!

And for bonus thrills, there are even reports of mountain lions in the vicinity - although that particular sighting was closer to my other favorite local area to bike. I mean, I feel a certain bond with the cougar - so I like to visit their haunts.

An Easy Treat: Lemon Granita

2011-10-17T22:02:00.004-07:00

Well, easy for me to say it's easy - I have two heavily producing lemon trees in my back yard. But even if you don't have lemon trees, the same basic concept can be used with berries, espesso, lime, grapefruit - lots of things - make a simple syrup with water, sugar and your flavor - freeze. Food process. There you go.

Lucy and I like to go the extra mile and serve our lemon granita in scooped out frozen lemon shells with a bit of mint for decoration. It adds to the experience - and, uses up a lot of lemons.

I have to get better at my food photography, but here goes:

This is a fairly healthy dessert as you generally eat a small amount of it, and you can control how much sugar is used. The recipe I use is from the newest Joy of Cooking.

Lemon Granita
Makes 2 cups.

Combine in a small saucepan: 1.5 cups water, .5 cup sugar, zest of 1 lemon removed in strips.

Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring occasionally to dissove the sugar, then boil 5 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat, cover, and let steep for 15 minutes.

Remove the zest, cool to room temperature, then add 1/2 c. fresh lemon juice.

.... now... they say to refrigerate until cold, then freeze - well, this stuff is all super flexible... so, as long as it's not blazing hot, I go straight for the freezer. Now, you also have options here, and I go for the easiest. I pour it right into ice cube trays then put it in the freezer. When it's frozen and we're ready to eat it, I put the cubes in my food processor (only put in as many as fit in a single layer), and pulse until smooth but not slushy.

At this point, we've been loading it up into the lemon shells and briefly re-freezing.

Fabulous!

Do I do anything but hike?

2011-10-15T16:36:00.014-07:00

No, not really. Not of note, at least. Well, I shouldn't say that - this morning I attended Ethan's soccer game. He played very well indeed and they finally won one after what seemed like a long losing/tie streak. I did not, however, take pictures - it was a bit of a dreary morning down in Encinitas, but is anyone surprised? It's like that place has a magic cloud screen it pulls over it whenever it wants a break from the sun.

Not up here at the house! And by "up here", I mean about 10 miles or so directly west of the coast from around La Costa. While this house has presented us with a lot of challenges (which I won't go into, as I've mentioned most of them before), it does provide one significant advantage - incredibly easy access to a wide variety of interesting trails.

Today I did "The Tower", so named for the tower structure atop the peak.

I leave for this hike directly from my house with no driving involved, and head essentially downhill, then west and uphill - steadily, with a few steep spots, until the tower is reached. It is about a two hour hike when I'm taking it easy, giving the dogs water, etc.

I'm always a little nervous on the first portion, as it's been the sighting of many a snake - dead, partially dead, alive, or just indicated by the swirly S in the dust. There is a lone house on this portion (the only dirt road portion of this particular hike), and a pond that Sally thoroughly enjoys sneaking down to. So thoroughly, that I've given up trying to prevent her to go in - at least on the way out. And today, there were ducks on the pond - how exciting. I heard some squawking and squealing and thought maybe she'd revisited some of her chicken-killing days, but no dead birds, thankfully.

Once you pass the pond, the road turns back to paved, although right about here there is an option to head uphill on a dirt trail that, turns out, connects to an amazing network of trails through undeveloped country you can see from the tower trail (pictures of that part in a moment).

But that trail doesn't go to the tower, so I continued on the road - past some houses, a winery (seriously! with the world's most pathetic pug protecting it), and some pretty interesting landscaping done sort of Asian-meditation-garden-style.

Right when you pass the gardens, you get a glimpse of something you might think came right out of the middle ages - a gigantic retaining wall, which having gone up recently, I can only presume is the foundation for some monstrous house waiting to be built.

You get views back to Double Peak much of the way - here you can see the road winding its way up the hillside. This "road" is so narrow, with absolutely no edge to it, that it seems sort of overly-gracious to call it by anything other than "trail". But technically it is a road.

You only have to circumvent one locked gate, although you cross many a "Private Property - No Trespassing" sign on the way - we all have those out here. Our road has about 3 on the 1/2 mile length. The views from the tower road are worth the "risk".

Shadow took advantage of my photography time to sneak in a little rest. Unfortunately, I think he has injured his left front paw and I will need to give him a break from the hikes for a few days. He was just mumbling in back of me saying, "Hikes... more like death marches!"

We were all extremely happy to return to the relative cool of the house. I was rather intrigued by the little fellow below, who somehow managed to attach himself to the dog's water bowl that was in the middle of the driveway - wherever he came from, that was a long haul.

We followed the hike with what we pretty much always do now on Saturdays - make something with lemons. We have a seemingly endless supply of lemons. Today we repeated our treat from last week - lemon granita to be served in hollowed out frozen lemon shells. Pictures to follow!

Just Another Hike in SoCal

2011-10-14T15:17:00.011-07:00

I hope you aren't expecting to see beautiful pictures of fall foliage in my hiking pictures for today - for if you were, you would be sorely, sorely disappointed - because the one thing Southern California doesn't have (outside of reasonable housing prices and traffic-free roads) is foliage. Oh! What I wouldn't give to be on a hike in Idaho, Pennsylvania, or Vermont right now instead of baking in the everlasting sun!

But then again, I'll be making this post in January most likely, and it will STILL be 80 degrees and sunny, and then ... what I wouldn't give to NOT be in Idaho, Pennsylvania, or Vermont!

Oh, so why start off with the "Caution: Mountain Lion" picture? I saw no fewer than half a dozen of these on my hike around San Elijo Hills this morning. Funny, because when I started off going through the park in the town, I met a very friendly woman who told me about the mountain lion sighting yesterday at 7:00 am at the gas station right in the town! It did not deter me (it was deterring her, for sure) - she said, "Are you going to go up to the top of that big hill?" Yes, yes I am - because if I learned anything from my time in the wilderness in Idaho, I learned ... hmm, no, I didn't learn anything. I am still completely paranoid about mountain lions, but felt pretty sure no mountain lion would be hunting me and my two dogs in the dead heat of the day.

I started on the "Discovery Trail" heading through the park in the center of town, headed straight for the EXTREMELY steep climb to "the tower" - which is the radio-type towers you saw on the left hillside when entering San Elijo Hills. I had come down into the town to start my hike in the hopes of encountering other people/dogs (partly for Shadow to get used to other dogs, partly for me to see ... people). Perhaps I shouldn't pick the steepest hill around to climb if I am desiring to see other people.

We eventually summitted, where I finally allowed the poor dogs to have their drink. I thought maybe they were about to die. In spite of my regularly exercising them, I don't think I have the most spritely pair.

So where did the "s" in dogs come from - the new "s" - Shadow? Well, I adopted Shadow from the Coastal German Shepherd Rescue about a month ago. He started out supposedly as an experiment in fostering dogs, but I possibly became more quickly and permanently attached than he did, although that's hard to say because I don't sit on his foot when he tries to go anywhere without me.

Shadow is about 1 year old, although we don't know his precise age. He's due for a visit to the vet so I can get a more complete picture of him. He was a stray dog who had been with the rescue organization for a little while and had not been fostered yet. He was so bizarre when we first brought him home - like he'd never been in a house. He ran into door frames and was just amazed how people moved around. He's all chill and normal now, but it was a little freaky for a few days. He's a very sweet puppy and maybe looks a little intimidating, but he's really just a huge dork. My favorite thing about him is the way he lies down on the wood floor - front paws stable, but slides to the back - plop. I mean, it's one way to do it.

So back to the hike. So, here we are, top of the ridge - after a brief water break we head along the Ridgeline trail back west. So, it gets a little remote feeling up here, I have to admit (see below - it looks a little remote, no?), and I will say that I was pretty darn certain a mountain lion was tracking me at this point. Why do I say this? I don't know, paranoia?

But never fear - the eternal urge to develop any remotely beautiful land in California continues on strong! In not too long, I came across a similar landscape - yet completely bulldozed out prepared for "Homes from the mid-$500s" and "Homes from the upper-$600s".

Of course, I can't poke too much fun at that, or scoff too haughtily, because Lord knows I might be trying to get one of those at a good price here myself in not too long...

At this point, we headed through the new developments, and with a few wrong turns where we were tricked into thinking the new fancy development entrance might not be locked to pedestrians (?), we finally headed back down toward the town.

The last trail we took had the romantic name, "Make-a-Wish" trail, and although I thought it was pretty awesome and the most like actual hiking I'd done, my scaredy cat dogs were sure something purely AWFUL was hiding out in all that... vegetation. Yikes, they said. We are desert dogs! What's all this... mountain-like hiking with rocks and bushes and trees and what have you?

I had thoroughly exhausted my poor little dogs. We feasted on turkey sandwiches and iced tea (for me), and water and dog biscuits coated in peanut butter (for them, although the peanut butter was tempting) on the back deck at the Peppertree.

Philadelphia in August - Expect it to be a little stormy

2011-10-13T21:46:00.006-07:00

This is probably the most negligent I have ever been in terms of keeping up my blog. It is a convenient excuse to say that I keep losing parts to my camera - well, sort of convenient, but it just has to end!

I have just a few posts I want to catch up on before I re-start chronicling the current time period. The first thing I wanted to write about was my trip to Philadelphia in August. This was a trip we made very last-minute - only Ethan and I went (although David joined us later). Lucy was visitng her best friend in Idaho, and David was going to be traveling for work.

And my mom was undergoing cancer treatments. There, I said it - it's been difficult to say, and in fact, I wasn't sure for the longest time if I should even say it in a public forum. It's been this elephant in my blog wanting to come out, and I've hesitated to say it for so long. It's been the reason the Philadelphia pictures sit there staring at me when I try to post.

It seems like a good time to post about it, however, as my mom has successfully completed her designated treatments - both radiation and chemoterapy. The timing of our trip happened to coincide with the timing of my mom losing her hair. This was an extremely emotional time for everyone, and I was wondering how Ethan would react to the whole thing, but I think he really added a little ray of sunshine to the whole thing - exactly what everyone needed. He somehow knows just the right way to be in those kinds of sensitive situations (at least, I thought he did!). I am proud of his little sweet spirit.

And I am also truly proud of my mom. And though I sit here crying as I type, I feel like I just have to say it. She made it through one of the most difficult things people can experience - and even hosted us and allowed us to traipse her around Philadelphia at the same time. Hopefully we brought a little joy to the situation. I wish I could be there more.

So, enough of the sad talk - I will add some pictures. I imagine I have lost a lot of my readers (the few I had!) at this point due to lack of posting, and those of you who still occasionally look for a post probably already saw these on Facebook. But oh well.

I had decided to educate myself on some of the history of the Philadephia area before traveling there - although with the last minute arrangements, it was a little challenging to get through a dense treatise on the Declaration of Independence, but it was worth the effort to enjoy the trip that much more. We chose to tour Valley Forge one morning before the treatments, as I discovered they offered a guided trolley tour of the park.

It was... AWESOME. Our tour guide was a 17-year old history enthusiast, to say the least. Poor kid was probably dragged to war re-enactments since he could crawl. He really added that extra bit of pizazz to the experience. He also remind me of someone from high school, which was sort of a fun connection.

Another night we attempted to go to a Philly's game. My brother's company has these amazing seats, and it just so happened that no one happened to claim them for that game. The seats were low-down third base line, the energy was palpable, the Jewish Heritage night featured men dancing with bottles on their heads, I mean - what more could you ask for?

Oh, maybe that one of the worst storms of the summer didn't stir up right in the middle of the third inning?? Ugh. Although we did make it home safe, the roads were extremely treacherous and the lightning was incredible.

At least Ethan enjoyed some cotton candy before the storm.

We also got in a trip to the zoo - always a favorite.

Not just for the ice cream! Although that is a highlight some enjoyed. It was great, as always, to get to see my nieces and nephews - although I missed out on my brother's kids this last time.

For a short trip, it really ended up being a fantastic time - despite the challenging situations life was handing out.

I will end with a totally bizarre picture, as I am often wont to do. It might be a little hard to read, but here goes:

This is a shop off South Street - it says, "Harry's Occult Shop - We Aim To Help".

I mean, I have to ask, how? How can an occult shop help? Help what exactly?

Back to France: Days 15 and 16 - A little castle never hurt anyone

2011-09-07T22:25:00.007-07:00

If you were following my posts on France, you will see that I have completely skipped Days 11 through 14. It is not exactly that those days were lost in a blur of Bordeaux wine (that would only be HALF true!), but I actually have no pictures available to me from that timeframe at this moment. We spent days 11 through 14 at the household of Family Dutheil in Bordeaux - our exchange student's parent's house. It was the ultimate French experience. Her father, Jean-Phillippe, is the ultimate French gentleman, and her mother Sylvie was a very gracious host and especially considerate of the children. We also enjoyed meeting her sister, as well as spending more time with Anne-Laure herself. It was an unspeakably good time.

Except for the blood sausage, but we'll return to that some other time.

Now on to Days 15 and 16. It was extremely difficult to tear ourselves away from the home of Family Dutheil - waking at 10 AM, maybe 11 - breakfasting on chocolate croissants and espresso, lounging around for lunch at 1pm (which lasted at least until 3 - and, would you like a glass of rose with your lunch? Hell, why not? I'm in France!) Maybe we'd go see something absolutely stunning around 4pm, with a snack at a cafe sometime around 6, and then dinner, of course! Don't forget aperitif!

And here I am still talking about Bordeaux. See, it's even hard to stop TALKING about, no less leave the place. But leave we did. We had a bit of a spat, David and I, over where to go next. David wanted to drive to San Sebastian in Spain, which was by some estimates between 2.5-3.5 hours away, depending on traffic (in the opposite direction of Paris, where we were to fly out from in 2 days). Granted, I was definitely attracted by the sound of getting to see some of Spain, and by being in a country I had a slight chance of being able to speak/understand (at least read), but my practical side said - let's get going back toward Paris!

And how could I possibly leave France without visiting the chateaux of the Loire Valley! Mon Dieu!

I was, of course, absolutely dying to go to Fontrevaud Abbey to see the effigies of Eleanor of Aquitaine, Henry II, and Richard I! However, it was not to be (this time). But my recent foray into medieval history well prepared me for our castle visits.

We started at Amboise, where I managed to find the tiniest set of rooms with the tiniest bathroom and most sloping ceiling in all of France. Seriously. But hey, it was reasonably priced and provided two beds in separate rooms - with an amazing view of the castle from my attic window. Perfect. The hotel is called Le Blason - check out the link for pictures - it dates from the 15th century and at one point was a boarding school for girls.

Like so many towns on the Loire, Amboise boasts a famous castle - Chateau d'Amboise. We toured the castle on the night we arrived - just before closing, and truly, it was a great time as there were hardly any other people. Much of the original castle had been destroyed sometime following the French Revolution, but much of the original structure is there - including the very imposing front built down over the cliff that makes the place look absolutely enormous as you approach.

We had one of the best meals of the trip that night at a restaurant located around the corner from the hotel - Restaurant L'Alliance. Fantastic menu. Service was a little sketchy, but hey, we didn't learn French - again, what did we expect.

The next day we went for the biggest and grandest ones we could find in the tour book, stopping first at Chenoceau, which was located just a few quaint miles from Amboise.

This may have been everyone's favorite castle. It is literally built over the river (as you can see) - and utilized the river for transport of goods to the kitchens which are located in the supporting piers. The two main floors above the river are grand ballrooms. I won't do the place justice in terms of describing the history, so check it out on Wikipedia if you want to know more!

The last castle we visited is called Chambord, the largest of all Loire Chateaux. This place is so overwhelmingly huge, we were simply lost at all times and probably didn't manage to see half of it. The double helix staircase rumored to be designed by Leonardo di Vinci was one of the most remarkable features, although really it's hard to pick any single thing out.

We have a lot (LOT!) more pictures - so I will add them at some point with little description, since you have it all here :)

Happy Birthday to someone special

2011-09-06T21:41:00.004-07:00

As many of you know, today was my husband David's 35th birthday. David always claims that I do nothing special for his birthday, so I put a little more effort to it this year - and in addition, I will pledge to NOT make fun of him for this ENTIRE post!

I started the celebration off by buying him a few special items from the grocery store every time I went in the last few days - which frankly, seemed like almost every day. We are a busy, hungry household. So anyway - then, we lavished cakes upon him yesterday - the classic David cake (carrot cake), along with chocolate cupcakes topped with cream cheese icing - which was Lucy's contribution, not so much because she cared about her Dad as much as she does NOT care for carrot cake - which she sees as a perfect waste of cream cheese frosting.

Today on his birthday proper he didn't get to do too much special, but in the grand tradition of birthdays this year, he celebrated it on Taco Tuesday with only Jon in attendance (well, in addition to Scott and Gordy, but they are regulars!) This is a very new tradition, but one with good precedent - i.e., my birthday was celebrated in much the same fashion.

Today was an absolutely horrible day for David's favorite passion - getting exercise outside. It was officially the hottest day on record for 2011 (at least in my memory), and I have heard that it was in fact recordsetting. It topped 101 degrees in our zip code sometime around 3 p.m. Along with my lingering cold, which I think has now been made extra-special by the addition of allergies, the addition of the inferno-like heat was enough to make me crawl under my desk and cry - oh that's right, except that it was being occupied by some scorpion-esque creature. It's too bad I was too panicked to take a picture (Ethan killed it, Lucy disposed of it). Was it a true scorpion? Was it a vinegaroon (look it up, it's a real thing)? I guess we'll never know.

Here's Sally, with the perfect facial expression telling us exactly how we all feel - it's too bad all of our tongues don't breathe and aren't that long...

(Sally: "It's so dang hot it hurts! It hurts, I tell you!")

I did manage to think up a gift that was fairly original (at least, I tend to think so!) - I bought David and I tickets to an LA Galaxy soccer game. When I told Ethan, he was rather a bit more than crushed that I just planned on going with David alone. Hmm. Will some Padres tickets pacify him? It's hard to say. That kid has a LONG memory. Just ask the people at the Birch Aquarium about the 50+ changes they didn't know they made to the fish in their tanks...

I don't have hopes for tomorrow's temperature improving. When it says anything over 90 in the forecast, that means just plain hot. Perhaps tomorrow I will post about cooler times - like when I visited Philadelphia in August - now how crazy is that!

It's Approaching Fall Somewhere in the World...

2011-08-30T19:14:00.008-07:00

Not here, of course, as I sit sweltering in my office-laundromat-hideout. Here, as you well know, is southern California. A little more than two months back, we moved a bit further inland and have seen the temperature jump on average about 10 degrees higher than our last location. That 10 degrees and a few miles seem to make all the difference - endless sunshine, drier conditions, tarantulas, rattlesnakes, birds of prey, mountain lions, meerkats ... Oh, just lying on that last one. The rest are all true.

When I think of fall, I think of brilliant leaf color, the smell of decaying matter, and hiking in tree covered woods. Can you guess that I grew up in the northeast? I think for so many people who grow up in Pennsylvania and north, autumn is a magical experience - each and every year. Sure some years are better than others, some years the leaves fall because of heavy wind or rain before the colors come into their own, but the smell, the air, the feel of it - is not to be matched.

At least in my mind.

I used to complain (endlessly) about how the fall in Idaho was dismal - the snow came too fast, there wasn't enough variety in the colors, waa-waa-waa. And now I moved to California, and wonder what the heck I was complaining about. There is a POINTED lack of fall here - David tries to claim the leaves turn color, and they sort of do, but in this haphazard bizarre fashion where you'll still have a hold out in January with some yellow leaves, and the tree next to it may be starting to bloom.

So what all of this has me dwelling on are thoughts of visiting Idaho sometime end of next month to catch just a bit of the glory that is Swan Valley around the end of September. I managed to make it there last year because I had some work up that way, and a couple of the nights I drove the long haul to Swan Valley just to catch an hour trail run at Palisades and Big Elk Creek.

I sure do miss hiking.

We have tried on occasion to catch a hike or two in these parts. I haven't really hit the sweet spot here. There's some very convenient trails right near my house that are great for grabbing a trail run (when your calf isn't all messed up) - but it's not exactly "hiking". You might pass... a tree. Surely there are more wooded parts - but like I said, I haven't found them yet.

The trails near our house certainly ofter some nice sunsets, sometimes clear enough to see it set over the ocean. Theoretically, that is - not in these pictures.

David would often go on at length about the beauty of Mt. Laguna, which is the highest peak in San Diego County and is located in the Cleveland National Forest about 60 or so miles south of here. Maybe he was a little loopy from riding his bike up it three times in a century race back in the winter - because while it was certainly nice, it wasn't anything close to the hiking in Idaho.

It did match Idaho summer in terms of the pesky insects, at least.

So here are some shots from our last hike there, which occurred sometime before our trip to France - I have just been out of the writing habit for so long, the pictures are languishing on my phone.

I particularly love the look/stance of David in this picture. It seems so... Captain America-ish.

"Dude, I don't know about you guys, but I'm totally in need of like a 10-mile run followed by 500 pushups and maybe about 50 pullups, give or take a few. Hey, stop looking at my bike tan. Don't laugh, I work very, very hard at the perfect line across my bicep."

Oh David, am I always making fun of you here?

The Past and Pending

2011-08-29T21:45:00.005-07:00

Before I delve into the past, we can discuss the pending - poor Lucy is either on her way back from or sitting in an emergency room as I write. I believe she essentially needed only stitches, but the reports were of a large gash in the knee - and I was afraid perhaps they would find that she had chipped a bone.

How did this happen? Well, Lucy established early in the afternoon that she would not be able to attend swim practice today because of re-injuring the stress fracture in her foot at the beach this weekend. David ended up home earlier than normal, and with me off taking Ethan to soccer practice, he decided it would be nice to have a trail run. He thought it would be fun to have Lucy join him by bike, and actually of all things, biking feels pretty much just fine on her sore foot.

We live in an area that has "hills" in its name, so it's pretty hard to avoid them. Apparently they were coming down a steep incline (on the road, actually - not even a trail from what I gather), when she lost control of the bike and ended up knee-in-rock. David said she didn't bleed all that much, but had a huge hole in her knee.

So it is nearing 10:00 PM, and still they have not returned.

So that's the pending. Now to the past items.

First, yesterday we enjoyed a nice day at Mission Bay Park down in San Diego. David rollerbladed, while the rest of us plebes plopped our butts on bikes. You know, for 15 miles - with him rollerblading at an average above 12mph. It just - doesn't seem human really. But it was nice all the same. There are a ton of pedestrian/bike paths in that area - and although it can be incredibly confusing, it is a good place for a casual-to-moderate bike ride, walk, or incredibly intense rollerblade. Your choice.

That was followed by a whole lot of indecision and false starts in terms of finding a restaurant for linner (and we found that the "dead time" between 3 and 5pm exists is America just as well as it does in France). Eventually we ended up at The Dragon's Den, an Asian Fusion place right across from Padres Stadium in downtown. Downtown San Diego is NOT the place to eat if you are on a budget. Don't expect to find a value, although at least in this case, the food was good.

We have been having really incredible food at home these days, featuring different house chefs each night - although it's been awhile since David has been featured. Scott pitched in with some kebabs last Thursday, and then did double duty on Friday with steaks and fried potatoes. Saturday I did my usual "use up whatever I can find in the fridge" night, and we had a very flavorful dish of roast chicken and potatoes with massive amounts of garden herbs (alas, no snake!), chickpea salad, beets and green salad. Then today, I tried cooking swai for the first time - a fish from southeast Asia that is supposed to be very similar to catfish. I decided to go for a different flavor - Spanish Moroccan fish - "Spanish-Moroccan" sounded a little odd to me, but I do realize there's a bit of cuisine overlap there so I guess it's not too odd. I thought it turned out very interesting, and I especially liked the vegetables. If you decide to try it, take care to notice the portioning - it's definitely a little off in terms of spice amounts so use your judgment (i.e., the recipe is a bit spice-heavy, I'd say).

So now that I thoroughly bored my readership, here are some more pictures from France. These are from the Museum of Comparative Anatomy in France - a museum that is almost a museum of a museum. Much of the layout and displays are left as they were when the museum was created around the turn of the 20th century. There is a great emphasis on exploring the concepts of evolution and natural selection. Ethan thought it was FABULOUS!

Oh, and you get bonus points if you know where the post title came from!

Snakes and Heat

2011-08-27T16:54:00.004-07:00

Oh just another typical Saturday here in Southern California - 93 degrees, with a horrible cramp in my calf from my run this morning (you know, in the morning, to beat the heat - heh), and oh yes, a huge snake caught in the chicken wire around my garden plot.

Scott suggested that it was after a vole eating out of garden (or any number of rodents living in and out of our house, looking to eat things), that it ate the rodent while tangled in the fence, then became stuck and could not get out.

And this isn't just any snake. This is a rattlesnake. I took a picture of the rattle to prove it.

I really hate snakes. We saw another one on our road the other day when we were taking a walk - it appeared fairly harmless, but great mother that I am, I let Lucy who is much, much braver than me walk by it first. Should I have admitted that?

I make many mistakes. Another mistake I made yesterday was suggesting that perhaps we should get a cat from the shelter to help us with our mouse problem. David sort of said o.k., sort of - but Ethan really grabbed onto this idea. At 7 am this morning he was asking when we were going to the shelter.

Never take your soft-hearted children to the animal shelter! It will end in tears for someone!

But off we went - because I had promised, but somehow it turned into us looking for a dog. Puzzling, I know.

So the first dog that took our fancy (David's actually), was a scraggly little poodle named Franklin. Here is a link to Franklin, however, I will tell you he's much, much cuter in person. He is a little old, but I loved the non-shedding aspect. David sat down and just immediately started bonding. It's possible if we had jumped on it then, we would've walked away with Franklin.

However, we decided to go over to the shelter (this was at the Petsmart) to look at the rest. As we walked by the rows and rows and rows of cats (so sad!), we finally got to the dogs. During our 20 minute wait to have our play time with the two we picked out, Lucy bursts out into tears as David begins discussing the cons to a second dog (there are many, obviously). The tears didn't stop as she pet the very adorable white husky they brought out first - but of course, I saw the hair flying off the dog in clumps and had decided against him then and there. This dog should be taken to Idaho or Montana - good Lord. Who brings a husky to inland SoCal.

Did I mention it's in the 90s?

So anyway, then they bring out this clearly malnourished cutie (3 year old hound/shepherd mix about the size of Sally) who would probably be a fabulous dog, but pretty much showed no interest in us.

So we left with some children rather in despair, and me realizing what a terrible mistake I had made in suggesting another pet at all. Later David suggested we "adopt" the in-house mouse as a second pet - "I like mice," he says. Ugh. The thing runs in and out of the room I am working in, it's quite awful. It's up there with the ants, although snake beats mice beats ants, in my book.

We sure do have a lot of critters here!

Pictures of France: Around Chateau Auzers

2011-08-27T16:17:00.008-07:00

What seems like ages ago, I posted about our time in the Cantal at our exchange student's wedding. Finally I am getting around to posting some related pictures. David has a few more, but unfortunately we don't have very good ones of the wedding itself. By the time we got to the dinner, we were so famished we forgot such things as taking pictures - and also, I had lost my camera and we had nothing but cell phones.

To the pictures... I refer you to the previous post for the story, and will just add teeny descriptions here.

This is the boarding house where we stayed for a few days in Auzers. All four of us stayed in a room on the back-right of the 2nd floor.

This was the view out our window. During the night of the wedding, it started raining. Then it pretty much didn't stop until we left France.

We all posed around the castle. I love hydrangeas.

And finally, the castle. We had the wedding dinner in the bottom floor - entered via the back side.

And Here It is the End of August

2011-08-24T21:18:00.005-07:00

And lo and behold I finally have found a way to access the internet from my hilltop home! I should clarify - David has found a way. I am now tethered to my Android phone for the time being. I had a very full day of work today and am feeling very good about that!

So here's hoping that I once again can find some time to write a little bit every now and again. A whole month without a post does seem a little excessive.

And here's the plan:
1. Finish the story of the trip to France, as it was such a remarkable experience
2. Post the best pictures from the trip to France (as I obtain them from David's laptop/phone)
3. Tell the story of my recently completed trip to Philadelphia, as there is much to tell although just a few pictures to share
4. Start talking about the here and now again

In this post, I'm going to do a little bit of #2 and #4 - and just a little bit, because I pretty much just want to go vegetate on the couch in front of the TV with David (have to take advantage of the free movie channels while we have them).

Today was my kids first day of school, and in addition, it was Open House night at Ethan's school. Open Houses are awesome, because we all get to pretend we're going to be much better than we could ever hope to be. But see, we won't be. My very special favorite pledge is the "healthy snack" pledge - you know, the one where you vow not to bring anything delicious to share with your child's class for their birthday. Because food is not a reward.

It's not a punishment, either, people. And having a piece of cake on your birthday is not exactly something I'm ready to give up. If I learned anything from the French, I learned to not put anything (and I mean ANYTHING - baby cow organs, goose necks, whatever) on the "do not eat" list.

So here's to having cake on special occasions!

And lastly, a picture from France - here I am in front of some 15th or 16th century doors (it's hard to remember at this point) at Chenoceau.

Day 10: Sarlat and the Dordogne

2011-07-28T21:13:00.004-07:00

I will start this post by stating that we are no longer in france, sad as that is - and no, contrary to popular opinion I do not have a Bordeaux drip in my arm to sustain me in my new wine habit. Although I have considered it, I don't think I would enjoy the looks I would get.

So day 10. We woke up in a strangely modern hotel room in sarlat on Tuesday morning. Hotel rooms in france are really a mixed bag but mostly highly odd. This had adjoining rooms with a set of twin beds in each. The bathroom had the weirdest bright yellow fixtures - it made for a Mondrian-esque scene. We didn't linger there long.

We set out to explore the medieval village of sarlat - which seems to have mostly been turned into somewhat of a tourist trap. Ethan proclaimed the town "not old enough", which was a decision we asked him to proclaim on all so-called historical towns we visited.

This area (the Dordogne) is famous for foie gras (among other things), but the foie gras kitschy-ness just about put me over the edge. I tend to find it to be a foul substance, but since it is so chic, people claim they love it and rave over it endlessly.

This particular town is fairly well-preserved, so much so it used for the setting of a few french romantic comedies - such as Chocolat. It was certainly cute - but I am not one for endless tourist shops.

So we headed out with no particular plan into the countryside where we ended up at these sculptured gardens in a gorgeous setting. We paid the admission price and spent a nice afternoon pretending we were french gentry strolling around our lands. The garden was called Les Jardins du Manor D'Eyrignac - a historic monument from the 16th century specializing in the art of topiary. You get to think about the poor schmoes who trimmed those dang bushes for the last 500 years!

After being rejcted for dinner at a cafe in a nearby town (again! - and this time angrily with the threat "speak french only!") We stumbled across a fantastic little town with - you guessed it - a boulangerie/patisserie where we again engaged in a late afternoon bread/pastry gorge. We just weren't learning - no eating between 2 and 7:30 - none!

So we then rolled ourselves up to what might have been the coolest castle of our visit - Chateau de Fenelon. I liked it because so much of the exterior medieval defenses were still in place. It was built in the 14th century with history/legends of the spot dating from the year 1000. It had two walls, slits for crossbowmen - I mean, what more could you want? The inside had a ton of period furniture and armor - much more of a density than some of the larger more famous castles we visited. The view of the valley from the battlements was simply stunning.

David managed to miss out on the fun by being on a work phone call almost the whole time, but I managed to give him a quick tour of almost everything before they locked us out with one of the biggest keys you've ever seen. Being that it was now 7 and we had no place to stay, I suggested we take up the offer of our gracious hosts in Bordeaux to begin our visit there one day early. We only had about two hours to get there, although it took a bit longer as the sugar high had worn off and we were ravenous. We stopped in this little twon famous for cave dwellings from early man, although we completely skipped the visit to lascaux ii - I read it was all a huge reproduction of the actual Lascaux - and while that is sort of cool it sort of sounded lame, too.

Funny story about my ability to understand spoken french - we were told to go to a certain town center and wait at the church. I suppose I didn't hear it well because when we called from the church in Merignac we were told we were a few otowns over from Martignas - the town of our hosts. Poor jean-phillippe had to come and escort us again ...

And I really didn't get any better at understanding french - but I did learn a whole lot about their wine, liquors, and various customs certained around the art of a shared meal.

More on that later - and oh, I can't wait to get all the pictures loaded up!

Exploring the Cantal Sans Tour Book - Days 8 and 9

2011-07-22T04:29:00.003-07:00

I may have mentioned this in a previous post, but the part of France where the wedding was located was in such a remote area that my extra-large Fodor's travel guide for France did not even cover it. The Cantal is, according to Wikipedia, a department of south-central France in the region of Auvergne. This area is specially known within France for its cheeses, specifically the Cantal cheese named after the region.

This is an area of rolling hills, some steep, with amazing views over a green country side where we could only assume the farmers intended it to be so beautiful when they planted their fields and arranged the lines of trees. Adding to the quaintness is the clanging of the cow's bells in the fields - real, honest-to-goodness cowbells on cows roaming free among the green grass. No feed lots here.

We joked, "Not quaint enough!" But seriously, you could not ask for a more idyllic setting.

The day after the wedding did in fact contain a continuation of the previous day's events, with one last formal part of the wedding left to celebrate - the day after barbecue. So when you thought I was done talking about the wedding in the last post, I indeed was not. The barbecue started around 2pm or so (or whenever people managed to rouse themselves from their morning sleep beginning at 7am), and consisted of grilled sausages of some delicious origin and then some other meat on a bone. The side dish was I suppose the French countryside version of a picnic dish, akin to potato or macaroni salad in America - this salad consisted of rice, corn, canned tuna, tomatoes, and ham. As the only other American there stated, "Huh - never had those things together before!" Indeed, and I plan never to again. I am assuming the sauces people were putting on it (which appeared to be either mayonnaise or mustard or perhaps both) made it more palatable, but I just wanted to eat a little to make the hunger pains go away. Eating pastries, brioche and bread for breakfast leaves an American dying for more food - strangely enough. But don't worry, the main meal was followed by more pastries, so I had my fill of blueberry tart for the day! (tarte myrtille) I ate so much blueberry tart that day, I even learned how to say it in French.

It seemed like everyone was still extremely tired following the barbecue, so we took their advice and headed to a medieval town not far from Auzers - Salers. This town was a famous medieval merchant town, and also a type of French cow is eponymous. We took amazing windy back roads through thick forest with beds of ferns to arrive at Salers - even with the incessant rain it was quite magical and truly so green it almost hurt your eyes.

Salers is very "touristic" as the French say, which could either be translated negatively to English as "touristy" or more positively as "worthy of sight-seeing". They commonly believe this is an English word as the French word is simply "Touristique" - I have adopted touristic into my lexicon as I think it describes these areas perfectly - they have their plusses and minuses.

I don't really enjoy the many shops (although the old-time artisan shops are of particular interest, esp. one we went into that made things from animal horns, like salad spoons), but the preserved medieval buildings and walls are quite impressive. You seriously feel like you've stepped back in time, and for a lover of the "le Moyen Age" such as myself, it is everything I had hoped for in a trip to Europe.

I will add in our own pictures, but here is one from the Salers tourist site - just to help my readers who only come for the pictures!

We ended up eating another dish of cous cous and "shep" in Riom that night, which I didn't mind as I enjoyed having choices that did not include fromage, canard, and/or foie gras!

The next day was reserved for trying out tree climbing at Chateau du Val - just about 30 minutes or so north from Auzers, a bit on the edge of the Cantal. The children were completely jazzed about the tree climbing, and it lived up to all of their hopes and dreams. You get yourself into a harness, and climb on a course set up up in the trees - we all agreed they'd never do something like this in the US, most likely, due to liability concerns - but they found it fabulous. I think they could've done this all day. I declined, as not only was my stomach still recovering from the luggage incident, my heights fear would've probably ruined the experience for others. So I busied myself with touring the castle on-site, which was very satisfying to me - maybe not quite as satisfying as the tree climbing for the children, but close. I essentially had a castle to myself, along with a fairly detailed English explanation of the rooms. I say by myself because due to being English speaking, I was not directed to a tour and got to self-tour ahead of the tours. I had rooms entirely to myself to walk around and photo - it was quite special.

I will have many pictures to post later, but if you follow the link on the castle name above, their website if replete with excellent pictures.

What is especially interesting about this castle is that while it is quite picturesque now to have this lake around it, this castle was not built on a lake originally. In fact, this lake was created due to a dam built in the early 1950s for hydroelectric power that ended up covering two farming villages that had presumably been associated with the castle. There was a lot of information on this aspect, but only in French, so I don't have too much more to say on that matter.

The castle itself was built in 1440, with people living in it actively up through even the early 20th century (one room was converted to a billiard room).

After the tree climbing, we all decided to continue our day with a lengthy French dinner in the town of Bort-les-Orgues on the Dordogne river. I knew this was going to put us at arriving in our next hotel around 1 am - because even though it was only about 5:30pm at our decision time, we had some driving to get there, the dinner itself (of course, many hours), then another 2+ hour drive to Sarlat (in the Dordogne). But we are on vacation, and also, rejecting the opportunity to share a meal with the French is never a good idea - really. And as I am finding more and more (and had a suspicion of from the start), a large part of visiting France is centered around the food!

So eating is really what we came here to do. Yeah, maybe there's a wedding and some touristic sites on the agenda, but the meals are what we are here to experience!

The French Know How to Have a Wedding

2011-07-21T02:16:00.003-07:00

After much screaming and stalling and circling the Eiffel Tower, we eventually made it out of Paris early Friday afternoon in our Europcar rental. I mentioned yesterday that I learned a lot about driving in France - most of it I learned Friday. Amazingly, we did not get lost on our 330 mile trip to the central countryside - even though the Google directions looked preposterous, somehow they worked.

We first arrived in a small town called Riom-es-Montagnes - only later did we learn that this was one of the larger towns in that region. The 'Hotel de Ville' in the town also served as the 'Mairie', and this was later to be the spot of the civil service portion of the wedding. From here, we called Anne-Laure's father for help navigating us to the location of the wedding party - next to which we would sleep.

(Background context: Anne-Laure was our exchange student about 9 years ago when we lived in Idaho Falls. We planned the trip to France around her wedding, which took place July 16.)

We certainly did need help navigating, as the Chateau d'Auzers is not exactly on the beaten path. We were to discover that we were staying in a room in a house within view of the castle, in the charming town of Auzers - population maybe 100 or so? We ate that evening at the one hotel/restaurant in the town, where I enjoyed a salad that included all of the local specialties - a certain type of ham (or jambon), blue cheese specific to the region, walnuts (noix), and a few sprinklings of tomato on a bed of very fresh lettuce. We thought at first that the waitress was confused because we didn't speak French, but later learned that she was confused by everyone, French or not, and soon decided that perhaps she had some sort of private issue that interfered with her ability to communicate (ahem!).

We had breakfast served by this very same woman the next morning, which consisted of very toasted bread and coffee. That is all. I understand this is the French tradition, but later on I verified with our French friends that the bread is not typically so toasted it cuts up your mouth.

We were very hungry after breakfast.

So prior to the wedding festivities, we had lunch at a restaurant in Riom (-es-Montagnes) - where I enjoyed a delightful crockery filled with cous cous, vegetables, and some sort of meat around a bone - which I understood to be beef but found out the next day when I had it again was "shep" (pronounced by the French) - also called sheep or mutton. Hmm. Well, I survived.

We were glad to have had this hearty lunch, as the wedding festivities leading up to the actual dinner were quite numerous and took somewhere around 7 hours. They also could include fairly copious quantities of champagne, if you were so inclined. Thus it is wise to have something hearty in your stomach...

The wedding started with the civil ceremony in Riom. The traditions in France are quite different, with the bride and groom greeting people in front of the Hotel de Ville prior to the civil ceremony - none of the bride secrecy rites, as in the US. This was followed by a drive up an amazing hillside to a Romanesque (early middle ages - years 1000-1200) chapel set directly below a hilltop popular with hikers. The setting was almost indescribably perfect. While everything was in French, it was fairly easy to follow - being essentially a Catholic mass with traditional wedding Bible readings probably used commonly throughout the Christian world. After the ceremony, they exited the chapel with a guard of French firemen in full dress - axes and all.

Then we went to yet another town, I think Apschon, to have the celebratory toast. This consisted of champagne either plain, or flavored with chestnut or black currant liquer. Trays of small French desserts were also taken around, much to Lucy's delight, as Lucy partakes of pastries with chantilly (cream) with gusto.

Next we traveled back to Auzers for the celebration and dinner at the chateau. This castle is actually still lived in on the upper floors, but the bottom floor can be used for parties. The castle was built in the 14th century, and still contains some interesting features such as original wall paintings done in a middle ages style. The castle is surrounded by amazing grounds - full of hydrangeas, a pond with lily pads, a fenced in area containing deer, and gorgeous views of the green hillsides. Truly, everything you could dream of a wedding in the French countryside being!

And then of course, we had the meal - which was astounding. Each course was paired with a fantastic wine, with the first part of the meal accompanied by Burgundy wines, and the last half Bordeaux. I will say here that I absolutely prefer the Bordeaux wines - not that it matters much, as it is all fantastic. We ate various starters, then eventually sat for the main meal -

Mise en bouche foie gras with figs chutney
Burbot with Champagne sauce (a cod-like fish)
Trou normand regional drink (passion fruit sorbet and gentiane flower liquor)
Veal escalope with chanterelle sauce served with a potato, broccoli and carrot gratin
Cheese buffet
Dessert - French wedding cake (& Champagne Domaine Pierre Mignon)
Coffee

Now, to understand how long a French celebratory meal takes, note that we started this portion of the meal maybe around 9:30, and Ethan was falling asleep in the veal at about midnight. David and I did not make it to the coffee, which showed up maybe around 6am, so I hear. I did manage to hold strong until the dessert, as Lucy threatened us that if she didn't get cake, horrible things would happen!

There was some dancing after the dessert, and apparently this was the primary activity until the coffee. There was a photo slideshow at one point, some games like on the Newlywed show, etc... but not a ton of the kitschy stuff one might find at an American wedding. The musical selections were... interesting, although much of it was American and recognizable. It is particularly strange to hear very euro-pop sounding music with English lyrics pronounced with accents - I mean, clearly, we don't listen to this music, why not speak in French or German or Dutch or whatever your native language is?

It was very fun, all around, and I am so glad I got to experience something like that!

And we will certainly have pictures to add once I return to the US and can get the pictures off our cell phones.

Finishing Days 5 and 6: What was that about comparative anatomy and Versailles?

2011-07-20T14:37:00.002-07:00

I last left you in the American Hospital in Paris. It is over a week now since Day 5 - it seems like I have been all over France in that time. Well, at least, I have covered a large amount of ground in central and southwestern France. I have learned a good deal about navigation and road signage in France - deep sigh.

So back to Day 5 - we decided to make Day 5 Ethan's day. Ethan's choices reigned throughout the day, which started with a visit to the Comparative Anatomy museum in the Jardin des Plantes - which was maybe on the other side of Paris from our hotel, but not too far to walk! Nothing - and I mean nothing - was too far for us to walk to. Where other tourists take the cushy buses with audio tour information from site to site, we walk and walk and walk. And walk.

We ended up at the Comparative Anatomy museum by accident, as we intended to go to the large Natural History Museum, but were confused about the title of this one. Regardless, it ended up being a perfect match for Ethan. Rows and rows of neatly organized animal skeletons (floor 1), fossil skeletons (floor 2), and invertebrates (floor 3) - strictly turn of the 19th century style. Simply awesome for a 10 year old boy who loves animals and structure. Lucy was bored to distraction (as was I) - but I was glad it was so enjoyable for him.

The kids decided they had had enough of dead animals, so we skipped the natural history museum in favor of the Paris zoo, also in the same park. Lucy thought the zoo would be dreadfully boring as well - but it turns out they had an incredible array of animals we hadn't seen before - or at least ones we don't see often in US zoos. The layout was also unique, being a very old style zoo. It was extremely small for a large city, but that suited us fine as we wouldn't have wanted to spend a whole day there anyway.

At the end of the time at the zoo, we were famished to the point of distraction. We have a bad habit of skipping lunch and then hoping for a late one sometime around 3 or 4. Or perhaps an early dinner? Not at all possible in France. Not at all! This is NOT the tradition, and here, you do not break the tradition. Restaurants are closed from about 2 or 2:30 until 7. You can get drinks or ice cream perhaps in the late afternoon, but not food. And don't ask! Especially don't ask in English!

And we simply aren't learning this - probably because what ends up happening is that we find a patisserie/boulangerie (pastry shop/bakery) open later and gorge ourselves on tartes (tarts), begnettes (sp. - probably wrong, but read - jelly donuts!), and bread. So the negative feedback (aside from the mean Frenchmen yelling at me to speak French, and no, you cannot eat now!) is simply not there. Skip lunch and have a jelly donut? Sure!

And of course, this is what indeed happened on Day 5 (as on many other days). This is the first day I had my raspberry jelly donut (begnette framboise). I will always remember it.

After we fortified (or gorged) ourselves on French pastries, we continued our urban hike to the Eiffel tower. This was Ethan's main request for the day, and we did the tour in style. Being completely impatient, we chose the shortest line - which was for walking up the stairs. We were fortunate to be joined in the line by an Australian family that the kids enjoyed immensely. They all raced up the stairs once we paid - and had all kinds of fun while in the line as well. Lucy learned a good fact about herself - she is a sucker for Australian accents. Will need to watch out for the Aussies when she's a teen!

We finally dragged our extremely tired selves back to our hotel room sometime around 11pm - we aren't sure how far we walked that day but it seemed endless.

The next day was Bastille Day - but don't call it that in France. They call it something vague like "festival day", as it's not independence day either. Basically, call it "Day I don't want to be on the Champs-Elysees or I will be crushed by a human mass" - as in fact, that is what happened to us. I have never been in a flood of humanity like that - we were smashed up with probably a hundred people being shoved along without any ability to move. It was horrible! As soon as we could escape the flow, we quickly decided to get the hell out of there and go somewhere by train. Today was to be Lucy's day, and we ended up heading out to Versailles.

I had read at least one book recently that was associated with Versailles (the Athenais book) - and also watched the Marie Antoinette movie made a few years back that starred Claire Dunst (I think). I was extremely excited to be doing this tour - as were hundreds of other people - but nevertheless, it at least wasn't as crowded as it could've been. We waited a relatively short time to enter, and enjoyed a decent visit only occasionally backed up due to a large amount of tourists blocking doorways attempting to photograph the magnificence.

Versailles is amazing and completely worth the tour. I won't even try to describe it, but it was everything I'd hoped it would be and more. Truly, much more than I could have imagined. That kind of excess is not something we have a great grasp of in these times - the painted ceilings alone are enough to transfix a person for days. Then the gardens, the furniture, the size, the fact that Marie Antoinette had an entire hamlet built for her! Seriously!

Lucy has a very particular taste in food - that taste being centered around a love of carbs. Therefore, we found the perfect dinner spot for her day - a creperie. First, for appearances sake, you eat a 'salt crepe' - what we might call a "savory" crepe - one with meat, eggs, and or cheese. You know, to make it look like you didn't come here simply to eat crepes with ice cream and nutella. But you did, really, come here for that - so they provide you a "formula" (price fix) menu that includes 1 salt crepe, 1 dessert crepe, and then a glass of cider. We all agreed it was a fantastic choice.

When we returned to Paris that night, the crowds weren't too bad. We managed to get back to our room for our last night in the big city before heading 6 hours south to "The Cantal" for the wedding. We were all extremely excited to see what the French countryside is really like (well, at least, I was).

I was not at all disappointed.

Days 4-6: French medical care, comparative anatomy, and Versailles

2011-07-14T15:03:00.003-07:00

I am not sure how far I will get through these days - we will see how long David's battery lasts in the bathroom. Why am I in the bathroom? Because we are sharing a single small room with the children, and this is my only space for the time being. I could go down to the lobby, I suppose, but my nightgown would be most likely inappropriate.

Day 4 involved me choosing to go to the "American Hospital" to have my serious sharp pain in the abdomen checked out. Don't make the mistake of thinking that this hospital is actually run by Americans, or that most people speak English there, or that your insurance will work there. Come armed with a credit card, expect to be given few instructions, and also be prepared for a little more of that lovely Parisian attitude toward outsiders!

I had read a book (or more than one) that endlessly praised the French healthcare system - I am truly not sure I can recall why, nor did my experience there invoke praise. They do post some prices upfront, but it is not entirely clear which price range you will land in, and even then, it is a range. I was left a few times with absolutely no instructions or information and had to hunt someone down and then somehow figure out what their French meant. I had to positively beg to pay when I left, as I was essentially waved out by the last doctor who saw me as if to say, "Leave already!"

What was my issue - well, see, I had an amazingly uncomfortable pain in my stomach (still have it) - that I still don't know precisely what it is. It hurts like crazy when I sneeze. It feels a bit more like a typical muscle pain by today, but is still quite sharp. I had never felt anything like it, and with it being right next to the belly button I was afraid maybe I had given myself a hernia in the whole "Carrying-40-pound-suitcase-through-the-Metro" experience of Saturday. The radiologist who performed the ultrasound seemed seriously, seriously frustrated with me for stepping into the hospital - like come on - what the hell - please, show me the spot again. Shakes head in consternation. I thought she was going to say, "Ay! Ay! Ay!"

However let's not pretend we don't have doctors who treat us EXACTLY like that in the US - I mean, that's I guess pretty typical everywhere. Although in the US, I doubt they start the conversation with, "(Sigh) You don't speak French? (Sigh)".

By the way, it is called "American Hospital" in honor of the Americans who fought in WWII. Just FYI.

Ok - I am posting this one as the battery just marked up "low". I spent the rest of the late afternoon being bitter about the cost of taxis in Paris, bitter about the money I spent at the hospital, bitter at still having a pain, and... bitter. Yuck. I even started googling, "Why I hate the French" (lots of funny English sites)... but I am out of that mood now, you'll be happy to know. We had a fabulous meal that night in a cafe in what seemed like an alley - and then the following two days have just simply been a lot of fun.

And as I said before, David has a ton of pictures I will add into here later.

France: Days 1 to 3 - A lesson in patience

2011-07-11T13:01:00.002-07:00

We left San Diego this past Friday afternoon for our long trip to France. About 4 hours into the flight (i.e., after my meal and the completion of my first movie), I started to wonder if this trip was such a good idea. I was only 40% through the flight and my butt was already numb.

I might have slept for two or three hours - hard to say really, because I lost all sense of space and time. At some point the flight status map said we were nearing Ireland, I was getting served a lunch-ish dish, and I started to feel heartened. We were making it!

Which was great, except we had done absolutely no research prior to our trip and were now faced with how to get to Paris from the airport. We offered a 120 euro taxi ride, and I suddenly became convinced that the commuter train I had read about in the tourist book I had purchased that previous morning was the way to go. The taxi driver warned of great troubles! We did not heed him.

And it seemed fine - quite difficult to get the suitcases down the escalator and on the train that was more subway-like - but we made it. And it was going pretty fast. And we got to our station. However we were all in such a state that we didn't really prepare to get off at the rapid pace we were going to be expected to - and therefore the doors were closing on us and Lucy was still inside the train. David and apparently some kind gentleman to my left were trying to hold the doors open, and I was stuck between. I was yelling to Lucy to come through with me - but she stood there dumbstruck and motionless. We finally convinced her to move when it was almost truly too late - it still horrifies me to think about it. **Shivers**

So then even more fun began. We had to haul 4 suitcases and a garment bag up several flights of steps through unbelievably busy Saturday afternoon Metro crowds. My suitcase in particular weighed about 45 pounds. And I carried it - a lot - and fast.

Since that time, I have been experiencing a sharp pain on the right side of my abdomen near my belly button - so bad on Sunday I almost cried several times throughout the day as we walked around Paris. It has calmed to the point now that it only hurts like a stabbing pain when I laugh, cough or sneeze - esp. don't sneeze. I think I might have given myself a hernia - I am hoping not - and perhaps it's a simpler muscle pull that will heal after some time. David keeps saying he wants to take me to a medical center to see how great in fact the medical system in France is - is it really all they say it is? I'm not sure I want to find out. If it keeps feeling like this, I may have to.

So you are thinking, you go to Paris and all you talk about is your injury? Well, that subway nightmare kept me from sleeping well the first night (that and jetlag) - and influenced my mood the entire next day. I don't like crowds as it is, and when you walk around in pain getting bumped and jostled, it makes me like them even less.

However we did manage to have some amazing experiences on our first real day in Paris (Sunday). While Day 1 was chalked up to subway nightmares and jetlag recovery, Day 2 involved touring the Louvre and doing a good deal of walking. We got to the Louvre fairly early so the crowds were not as crushing as they were when we were leaving several hours later.

We ended up renting personal audio tours, which I used to think were annoying, but when every sign was entirely in French, they are pretty essentially to getting anything out of the experience. Ethan absolutely loved using the audio tour - and chose to listen to almost every one we ran across. Lucy gave up early and insisted on rushing through to the much hyped Mona Lisa - separating our group until many hours later. It wasn't so bad, because Ethan and I are methodical types and enjoyed our time slowly working through the galleries. Highlights for me were seeing the Greek Antiquities and French paintings from the Revolutionary period. I also really enjoyed my time with Ethan, who always has lots of ponderous statements to offer in his one-on-one time.

The crowds and the heat in there became simply too much at one point, and we decided to give up and head out for some lunch. We chose a cafe a few streets behind the Louvre, and quickly learned that one does not order sodas or coffees in this part of Paris simply for my inability to fathom paying $6-8 for a bottle of Coke. No, just no. I don't give a flying fig about the supposed Parisian cafe experience if I'm going to have to pay some ridiculous price FOR A COKE! Surely there are cafes somewhere in France that don't charge $6 for an espresso (we found them today - not in Paris). Despite that, we enjoyed our lunch with tap water (gasp!) - I had a delicious quiche of the day.

We followed up lunch with a fairly lengthy walk to see Notre Dame. We ended up only looking at it from the outside, and we were so tired and warm that we didn't even walk around it. The line to get in was simply overwhelming, as were the numbers of people on the way to/from the site. It was... smaller than I had expected, but still pretty cool. I wish I had had more left in me to persevere through the line and crowds - but I did not, nor did any of us.

By the time we got back to the hotel, the kids were ready to drop - and they did - and it was only 6 pm. I was determined that they would not wake up at 3 am (again), and then have David insist (again), that it was perfectly reasonable to walk around Paris at 3 am with children. So, Cruella-Deville that I am, I forced them to get up at 7:30 and walk a few blocks to dinner. Although there was much moaning and complaining, we ended up with two bonuses - (a) Lucy sat right next to a very cute French boy her age (= goal met of Lucy's for the trip), and (b) I kept the children up a normal bed time - and thereby gained the advantage of having them wake up at a normal wake up time. So far, so good.

We have been enjoying the French version of the Marriott breakfast buffet each morning - so much so, that I told David that they are going to start having to call it gran dejenuer instead of petit dejeneur. Free is free, and the French version is even yummier than the American. One more special yogurt in a glass bottle for me please!

For Day 3 we decided to take a break from the crowds (we were hoping), and head out on a train to Chartres to see the cathedral. We were too afraid to try the Metro again, so we sucked it up and paid for the taxi to the correct train station. We figured we had time to make it to the 9:30 train, but little did we realize how much NOT having a microchip in any of our credit cards would affect our ability to function in France! It took quite an effort to acquire tickets, but eventually we made it onto the correct train on the correct vois (platform).

Chartres was a fabulous experience. I have pictures to load from David's phone, but I'll do that probably at the end of the trip (why David's phone? Because my camera got lost in the move). The cathedral was simply awe-inspiring. When we first walked up, we were all very disappointed to see that they were doing remodeling - but it turned out to be quite an experience in spite of, but also because of that. We would have had no idea otherwise that the original stones were actually quite bright white - they were finished cleaning much of the stone and glass inside, and we got to contrast the current appearance to the clean appearance. We spent a good deal of time both inside and out, and even took the tour of the crypt later in the afternoon (in French - and since I begged the tour guide to say a few words in English every now and again - we at least got something out of it).

We enjoyed a fairly lengthy lunch at a French cafe, although I have yet to experience these three hour lunches I have heard so much about. The menu items were complex enough that although we pride ourselves on knowing many, many french foods - even we couldn't totally understand them. Nor could our waitress speak much English - the waiter zero - and our French that we spent months preparing to use - wait, that's right, we didn't prepare. We speak no French and it took until this evening for us to finally realize, that yes - they do want you to say "bonjour" instead of hello and people will really lose patience with "thanks" after a while - I mean, are you Americans so thickheaded you can't even repeat "merci"? Well, I kept thinking they didn't want to hear me butchering anything, and if I insisted on English only, maybe they wouldn't keep trying to speak French to me.

Wrong on both counts. You must butcher the French AND they will insist on speaking French to you.

They even had an "enfante"-tailored price fix - starting with foie gras (because all kids love goose liver???) Apparently French ones do. Our kids tried it, said they didn't care for it (or perhaps sad as much in stronger terms), and THEN we told them it was goose liver. I had never tried it either - so I did - and I guess, hmm, it is probably an acquired taste.

The restaurant was on what appeared to be an alley (aka a medieval street) - which meant the building was old - 14th century in fact. After lunch, we strolled around the narrow streets lined with shops, and eventually stopped for a drink that didn't cost some crazy amount - a coffee for 1,40 euro! Amazing. I needed one, as I felt completely drunk on fat from lunch.

Then we walked more, toured the crypt, and I have to say, along with the kids, as I was rather disappointed not to see the bones of old monks. I don't know why I thought there'd be bones in a crypt - although we did get to see 12th century wall paintings!! Awesome!

We even survived the train ride back - although Ethan almost succumbed to motion sickness again (he threw up for the last two hours of the flight on Saturday). As we stood indecisively outside the train station, I felt the sensation of being stung really, really freaking hard - on the bottom of my right butt cheek. Ouch.

Then trying to explain to the pharmacy people I needed something for a bee sting. Not being able to speak French is exhausting.

David says I'm using up all my bad luck, and pretty soon something good will have to come my way. Maybe French bees are like, seriously mad at me for not speaking French or something, because boy does that thing STILL hurt several hours later!

We let the kids pick an Italian place for dinner because at that point, I really didn't want to fight them - I mean, come on - they are doing a pretty good job of putting up with all new foods so far - let them have pizza for a night! Geez! David almost didn't allow it, but I was fairly angry from the stinging and was just like, no, we're doing it.

In spite of our serious lack of planning, we are still managing to have a pretty good time - not that I know what we are going to do tomorrow though! David wants me to join him in the gym right now (10:52 pm) - and I'm like, seriously dude - I most likely have a hernia - honestly. Know when to say when. But maybe I'll head down there at least to discuss some plans for tomorrow.

Lessons learned so far: (1) Suck it up and take the taxi - you don't want to carry your luggage through the Metro, (2) Speak your horrible French, (3) watch out for French bees - they are super mean.

The daily ride isn't getting any easier

2011-07-01T21:55:00.003-07:00

Which would of course be a lot to expect on the 2nd day of the world's hardest bike commute - but one can always dream. And if you are going to dream, might as well dream big.

I looked up the elevation gain on the ride TO work (I.e. the easy way) and even that 11 miles has 1250 ft of climbing. I am assuming the ride home is somewhere between 3000 and 4000ft. That's about a mile of climbing a day. No wonder I eat my weight in almonds snacking throughout the day.

Of local interest, I finally tried the pizza port restaurant in carlsbad village today. I went out with david's office for their Friday tradition. We ate "man" pizza, as I was the only woman present. What is "man" pizza? It is pizza with at least two meats and maybe an onion, pepper or olive. The pizza was definitely pretty good but I am still a diehard for new york style. If I am going to go through the pain of eating pizza, it better be awesome!

It was official today - still lactose intolerant. Ugh. Maybe a litttle mint drink will help settle the old stomach. You know like mint tea...or a mojito - whichever.

Another daily ride - last sunday's Gran Fondo

2011-06-30T22:07:00.002-07:00

Although Sunday seems so long ago now, it is recent enough that I haven't yet forgotten everything about the day. David and I took off Saturday afternoon for the great city of los angeles to participate in a 70 mile ride through what might arguably be the most beautiful part of the country. Starting early Sunday morning on rodeo drive, we wound through beverly hills, along the coast, and then inland for some amazing views above malibu.

This was actually my first ever visit to los angeles. We spent Saturday night with our old neighbor chris, exploring multiple dinner spots in santa monica. And when I sat "explored" I am basically saying plainly that we ate two entire dinners, one right after the other. The first dinner was at a sushi place called sugarfish that can best be described by analogy to the soup nazi on seinfeld. The sushi was incredibly amazing (and expensive) but you had to put up with the chef's control issues in order to enjoy it. There were all these options - except there weren't.

So it was awesome, but we are three super hungry people. So after a very brief respite, we located an italian spot for second dinner. This place wasn't as amazing - but hey, we were full by the end of it.

Maybe too full, however. I was perhaps regretting my horselike appetite halfway up the hill time trial.

But back to the beginning. The start was on rodeo drive which to be honest, I was a little disappointed in. I thought it was this big wide street packed with rich and/or cool people. I guess at 7am on a Sunday, it was a bit nuch to ask for and yeah, the street is actually kind of narrow.

We did get a police escort all the way out to the coast and all the way along the coast to our first turn inland (maybe 12 miles into it). That is a pretty memorable experience - to be riding in a group of over 1000 cyclists having full control over the road through some of the most expensive real estate around. There still, of course, a few yahoos whp insisted on trying to drive through us - but God help them did they ever get aggressed!

The pace was pretty brisk for the first 30 miles or so, with the usual competitive cycling spirit. At around mile 31, the time trial portion up the 5.2 mile piuma valley road began. The race was on, and for the first 3 miles or so I was totally up to the task. My cadence was super strong, breathing steady, and my spirits elated - I was passing riders seemingly with ease. but as the hill wore on and the last mileage sign seemed tens of minutes back, I started to feel overheated and then tingling up my spine that ended up leaving me completely dizzy. I decided that I better back off or I wouldn't be making it to the top at all - i'd be passed out on the side of the road. So I backed off on the pace a bit and got passed by someone for the first time on the hill. Then I got passed by a woman and I completely lost heart. I was so determin3ed to get first place for women and this so completely crushed me. But I carried on in spite of my negative thoughts and ended up getting passed by maybe only 1 or 2 other riders. I rode strong at the top and overall felt like it was honestly the best I had. Riding hill races certainly does make you think hard about how fast you would be 10 or 20 fewer pounds lighter - but eh - I think that's also when you realize you are about to step into the heart of darkness and you totally need to take it down a notch.

I did this ride with david, and we rode together for all but the time trial. I ended up feeling like I pulled something in my right hip, and yeah, turns out I found out yesterday I have been ridibg with my seat over an inch too low. Yeah - now I find out.

We rode back super fast in spite of my injured hip. We ended up squaring off repeatedly against this one team and while david beat them all to the finish, my crowning moment was to sprint off a stop light and get super far in front of everyone - even david! It was a very, very breif moment but hey , sometimes that's all you have.

We had to wait around endlessly for the awards. I really didn't think I had won anything - after all, a woman passed me - surely there were many more like that. I figured david had a good chance though - so we held out.

Well turns out she was the 2nd place finsher! So no there weren't many more like her! After waiting through the rididculous presentation of a bike to andy garcia (I know, so random right?) They finally posted the results. I had only tasted every chianti they had in the vip tent and ate half my weight in penne bolognese by this time. I aslo managed to meet a cool guy who is a journalist for the LA times, among other things. He was wondering why I had vip atent access. I said honestly? I have no idea.

Well on to the results. David ended up fifth place overall, and I was fourth for women and 102nd overall. For a big city with a lot of committed amateur (and some of them may have been pro) cyclists, I was proud of these results!

I ama bit grateful though to have a bit of a break frpm cycling for awhile when we go to france. One week and counting

The Daily Ride- a day of firsts

2011-06-30T21:28:00.003-07:00

We moved to our "rooftop home" almost two weeks ago now. We are still tripping over boxes, salivating over the view, and anxiously waiting to find out what is going to break next. Having overcome broken plumbing, a raging beehive, clogged septic and an exploding pool filter, we are finally starting to settle into somewhat of a routine. For me that routine is including something a bit unexpected. Turns out that the only internet option available to me up here is satellite. So even though I can practically spit on tract homes (and spit I would), I cannot obtain any humane internet service.

So here's the first first of the night. This is my first post using my new android phone - a phone I have completely resisted buying for years, but man, I my so unfreaking believably glad david finally forced it on me. I am at least somewhat connected to the outside world. It is a little challenging to type this and I apologize for my spelling up front, but hey, it can't be too much worse than it usually is.

The second first is that today was my first day riding up "the hill" - which is the crazy steep insanity that leads up to our house. And it's not just that hill - from david's work (my new temporary, perhaps permanent office) to our house is basically 10 miles of pure hell punctuated by a few downhills. This ain't your old Idaho commute on a cruiser carrying a mug of coffee and a smile. This commute is pure grimace.

Sidenote: what the hell is wrong with rabbits' brains? So when you startle them they run across the road instead if away from you into the woods. I mean hitting them in a car is one thing, but on a bike?

But no, slaying a bunny on my bike is NOT my third first.

I acutally don't really have any other firsts except to hopefully commit to posting more regularly - even if I bore you all to death with posts about my daily bike ride. Besides eating, sleeping and working, it really is about all I do.

Ok so now my fingers are going numb from typing on the tiny keyboard. Plus: keep my posts to a more manageable read.

I will end with some pictures of the view from the top - that is if I can figure out how to do it.

Nope - couldn't figure it out.

Sunday Evening Padres Game

2011-06-09T22:02:00.007-07:00

The last time I went to a professional baseball game was the beginning of my freshmen year in college. Oddly enough, the guy I sat next to at West Point training camp (not kidding!) the summer after my junior year ended up in my freshmen class at Swarthmore - and his best friend was my idea of a dream boyfriend at the time. He was into drama and a baseball player AND he introduced me to the Indigo Girls - how freaking dreamy. Well, so he shows up at my college one weekend and says, Let's go to a Phillies game!

I have absolutely zero recollection of the game. We went to a party when we got back and drank Sambuca - probably the last time I drank that, too. I sort of got tipped off to the fact that maybe he wasn't all he seemed when he wanted to just keep drinking and drinking... yikes. Found out later that he almost died from a drug overdose. All I can recall is his first name - Brad.

So much for THAT trip down memory lane.

On to a much better memory of baseball... My brother bought Ethan tickets to see the Padres last Sunday night. It was a perfect afternoon for baseball - I mean, what afternoon in San Diego isn't? Maybe 5 days out of the year? We ended up arriving JUST in time for the game to start ... and for the 4 most annoying people ever to attend a baseball game to sit directly in front of me - well, the tallest one was directly in front of me.

This picture provides perspective. Ahem.

Because see, I was there to watch the game - as opposed to everyone else, who seemed to be all about eating. Apparently, that is why one goes to a baseball game. To pay $10 for a hot dog, $8 for a beer, and $4 for a super pretzel that costs about 20 cents at costco. America, I love it!

Considering I didn't know a single player on either team - I wasn't exactly what you'd call 'engaged'. However, since the people in front of me were so clearly NOT engaged, I decided to spend my time being indignant at their lack of attention to such an interesting sport. Because see, I was here to be a Padres fan.

And they delivered. What was awesome about this game is that there were a lot of hits and strikeouts - i.e., things to look at. We were right down on the third base line - probably the closest to the actual field I had ever been. Well, I could look at the game occasionally, when the guy in front of me got up for his numerous trips for beer and food. At least he gave me those moments.

We did our share of eating as well. David can't possibly stand to solely eat stadium food - so he spent the first few innings purchasing/eating sushi at a restaurant across the street from the stadium. But I had skipped lunch on a bike ride and was completely ravenous - a few pieces of sushi might do it for David, but I am of heartier stock. Stadium sausage in pretzel roll... not exactly 'yum' - but filling.

The kids were kept nice and full, too (sushi, hot dogs, pretzels, drinks) - so big smiles all around.

And the Padres won! I can't recall the score - you can't hold me to details like that.

Favorite part of game: Seventh inning stretch
Favorite food: none
Favorite player: didn't learn a name
Favorite play: there was a Padres triple toward the beginning

Sea World San Diego - All you can eat style

2011-06-05T07:47:00.006-07:00

You might wonder how many times you can go to Sea World without getting super bored. I am wondering that, too - as I haven't gotten bored yet. We bought a special deal 2-year pass last fall and have made it maybe 3 or 4 times since then. We have had a fabulous time each time - and no, I am not paid by Sea World to tell you that.

One thing we usually are at Sea World is DANG hungry. David has a serious aversion to amusement park food generally, and I have a serious aversion to their high prices for the quality. The kids just wonder around staring at the kids with snacks whose parents aren't as steel-willed about their 'no food in amusement parks' mentality. Until this last time.

Perhaps it's the 100s of miles he's putting in on the bike, but David woke up last Memorial Day with the idea in his head to try out the Sea World "All Day Dining Deal". With our memberships, the price is somewhere around $27/person (Ethan is less) - and we are pretty sure they made VERY LITTLE money on us.

If you are looking hard to make the best use of your all day pass, you start to see that the food options are not so bad. Large fruit cups, tasty salads, salmon dishes, and Lucy's favorite - cake! It became less about which show we were going to see next and more about where we'd get our next slice of cake.

I really am starting to sound like a paid Sea World advertisement. But I love Sea World.

Aside from the food, there were a few special highlights from this trip. First, I attempted to make use of my special talents as a dolphin/whale whisperer to talk the animals out of splashing me even when I so blatantly sat in the "splash zone". It worked for the dolphins.

It did not work for the killer whales. When they say "you will get wet" in Sea world, they really, really mean it - except in the pet show, but honestly, who thought they would get wet there? Back to the whales. I think they smelled my fear. I mean, with the dolphins, I was like -- ohhhh, so cute -- with the whales, all you can think of is that you are glad you are not a trainer and additionally, can it really not just lean over that flimsy-looking barrier and grab me or my offspring? It is a frightening beast. I went on and on and on about how crazy it was that they did the tiger splash show in Arizona - but really, is a killer whale any less absolutely terrifying?

They changed up the Shamu show to be what seemed almost entirely about three things: (1) whales beaching on the platform and lifting tail (awesome), (2) whales jumping and flipping (even better), and (3) whales drenching the audience (not so great).

Let me tell you one thing the Sea World website won't tell you. IT IS NOT THAT WARM IN SAN DIEGO. DO NOT BE MISLED. Maybe this is an off-year - I don't know. We had maybe two days over 100, maybe 1 other day over 90, maybe 5 days over 80. The rest of the time it's between 65 and 70. I mean, all the time - all the time. And there's almost always a breeze. Sure, it's sunny and your skin will fry. That doesn't mean you'll be warm when Shamu drenches you eighteen times. They sell a lot of sweatshirts at Sea World.

The other quite memorable part of the visit was the "Cirque de la Mer" show - which as you may have guessed, is a "cirque de soleil" type show. Unbelievable what those men dressed like frogs can do on poles. Unbelievable! All I could think of was, "Owen has a future and frog-men pole performances!" There was also an amazing performance where a really large man did amazing gymnastic poses while holding a really small man doing gymnastic poses. It is also involved the usual unwitting audience participant (supposedly - I imagine he was in on it the whole time). It was still super fun.

San Diego Century - All about the go, less about the show

2011-06-03T22:25:00.005-07:00

I can't believe the century was two weeks ago now. I think I still feel tired from it. Even though I kind of stole the thunder from this century with the Temecula challenge three weeks earlier, it was still special for being my original goal - established in January of this year. My decision to do this event (or I should say, David signing me up for it) started a series of events that have led me to my Focus bike that I apparently love more than my children (according to Lucy, that is - this one is similar, I think); a Joe-Pro like get up with a carbon helmet (seriously, they make these things!), fancy almost $300 shoes (see this post for an example of me making fun of people who wear $300 bike shoes), and non-purple sunglasses (although occasionally I wear them for old times sake); and last but not least, a few new cycling friend. I'm respecting their privacy by not disclosing who they are - although apparently I am told I don't respect their health and well-being when I throw it down on our weekly ride.

But everyone has their ups and downs. And in fact, the San Diego Century did not seem like a particulary shining 'up' example for my cycling career (if you can even call it that). I had done a challenging hill ride two days before the century, a moderate hill ride the day before - trying to make up for what I saw as a shortcoming due to work travel the week before (and therefore no bike riding). Advice from me to you (as if anyone ELSE would need to be told this) - do NOT do hill rides the two days before a hilly century! I didn't have my strongest climbing legs with me that day, and I was a little disappointed in that part of the performance.

In fact, at around mile 60 when we finally reached the turnaround point in Ramona, as I pulled into the rest stop, I wasn't sure I was going to make it back. Cramps were setting in all over my body. Was it anything a few hammer gels, banana pieces, and extra water could not overcome? Apparently not. I had a bit of a turnaround there - figuratively and literally. We started riding with this triathlon training team, and ended up riding with them on and off for the remainder the ride. Thankfully the vast majority of the way back was downhill or flat.

The most memorable part of the ride was the point at which I was in a pace line with four really fast female cyclists, with David at the head of the group. I wish I got to experience that more often, but cycling really does seem to be a sport dominated by men (at least, around here).

Well, most memorable on the positive side. On the negative side, there was, of course, the inevitable fight between David and I. I say "inevitable" as I was (most likely) convinced it was going to happen - so it happened. And here we are, "exchanging words" (vehemently, we'll say), as we are ascending the first few uphills leading out of Encinitas and into San Elijo, passing packs of people, arguing about how I'm concerned I'm not going to be fast enough for him. There is irony in this.

But we worked it out. The poor "Liquigas guy" - who was the initial target of my anger (as I was SURE David was "killing me" trying to pass him early on) - I think he just about died of shock when we passed him going strong sometime during the second half of the ride. THOSE PEOPLE are still riding together?, he must have asked himself.

We are ridiculous. At least, I should say, I am.

The century was ... o.k. I mean, after the amazing scenery of the Temecula Challenge, the thrill of the time trial, and the fabulous snacks at their rest stops - the San Diego Century came up a bit short. It seemed like the route was a bit more traffick-y than I would have liked, the scenery not nearly as nice, and the water stops... eh. The celebration at the end was less than I had imagined it would be.

But as I said in the beginning, so many great things have happened because of my decision to do this century - doing it almost didn't even matter at this point. Although I was certainly happy to cross that finish line.

Speaking of communes - The Yellow Deli

2011-06-03T21:57:00.003-07:00

I ran across this magical little place in the shade of Valley Center off Lilac road on a bike ride about two months ago. A few weeks after that, the kids and I attempted to eat lunch there - but failed (later finding out that they are not open on Saturdays). Finally, another few weeks later, I picked up David for our occasional weekday lunch together and whisked him off to their location in downtown Vista - The Yellow Deli. We sat in a special little corner booth set off on its own. This place is something special - the inside will remind you more than a little bit of the pub in the beginning of Lord of the Rings (Ethan said as much, on his visit that followed a few weeks later). There are paintings and awesome quotes all over the place. And pretty soon, it leaves you wondering what cult these people belong to.

Well, turns out it is a Christian movement called the Twelve Tribes communities - follow this link to read more about them. They offer free newspapers to read more about them onsite, and of course, they are willing to tell you more about it if you are so inclined.

I am certainly not here to judge the movement. They say you will know the tree by its fruits - and the fruits of this movement I have experienced are wonderful - at least for my tummy! Much of the food is organic and locally grown at their Valley Center location (and perhaps some other places). The "Green drink", while initially inspiring fear in me with it's think somewhat bright green color, is now one of my favorite things to consume. Grapefruit juice, apple, lemon, flax seed, wild spinach... yum. Portions are hearty, service is great. Absolutely no complaints. This is one of the BEST lunch places I have been to anywhere in the U.S. Double yum.

Another slice of California - head to the hills!

2011-06-03T20:43:00.010-07:00

I just got back from driving the crazy, pot-holed, incredibly steep narrow road to my new house. On your way up, you are thinking, "Why did I decide to live here again?" When you arrive at the top, you are thinking, "Oh my God, how soon can I get into this house?" And the way down, then, doesn't seem so far on the return.

An odd sequence of events led us to this place - it seems like the best things in life occur that way, no? I will be posting from there a short 12 days from now.

So where is this? We chose to move a bit inland to a somewhat wild area very close to San Elijo hills. Technically it is located in San Marcos - the only real sadness I'm feeling right now about leaving our current residence is that I'll no longer be able to be the proud owner of a Carlsbad library card! The Carlsbad Dove library has been on my "peaceful places" list since moving here - i.e., a place that always relaxes me no matter what my state. Love that place! It's not like they'll be able to smell the San Marcos on me when I walk in there or anything, but I sure will miss their new history selections.

On to some pictures. This house is a little odd in that it's kind of like two ranch houses stuck together. There is a main door in the middle, and an enormous 2500 sq ft deck around the older part of the house. The views from the deck and the expansive great room include Double Peak (of local hiking fame), several lagoons, the ocean, distant islands, and citrus groves lining the hillsides.

The back side has views onto the Questhaven wilds/Elfin forest - which is apparently quite the source of local lore - most of which claims the area is haunted. Great. Don't tell Ethan that.

I was more concerned about the fact that there's known to be at least one mountain lion haunting the area. However, I believe that we have a literal menagerie living in the shack outback - I don't think anything or anyBODY is sneaking up on this house.

We will be responsible for the care of a variety of fowl - chickens, doves, pigeons, guinea fowl, and peacocks.

Apparently they have survived all this time - so I imagine I'm not likely to end up as mountain lion bait.

The house comes with a total of around nine acres. In addition to the attraction of the deck, view, and various fowl, one of the main attractions was the fairly large, rectangular pool - very swimmable.

I am wondering if the pool will end up going by the way of the beach - meaning, it seems so cool at first, but then you never go there. I kind of doubt it, though - as the kids STILL love going to hotel pools, even though they swim in a pool for swim team three, four days a week. I know I am looking forward to having a place so easily accessible for laps. I have been off swimming for about five months now - ever since I started the century training (more on that later!).

Another benefit to the new residence is the possibility of surviving off the land - if push comes to shove. The house is surrounded by citrus trees, a scattering of macadamia nut trees (that apparently produce all year), and of course... the chickens. Scott claims he'll be the executioner if we decide to start eating some (and replacing them with baby chicks) - I have my doubts. Snapping necks, plucking feathers, and... what happens with the blood? Ugh. **shivers** Thinking starting a vegetable and herb garden is a much better alternative than slaughtering birds!

There are rumors circulating that we are planning on starting a commune up there. I am here to tell you the rumors are patently untrue. Not so much that we planning the commune, as the commune is finding us.

I cannot wait to document our adventures. Hopefully they won't involve pictures of a mountain lion jumping up against the glass of our sliding doors.

We need to think of a name for the new rancho. It certainly needs a name. Open to suggestions!

Las Vegas Isn't for Everyone

2011-05-24T00:16:00.014-07:00

But we gave it our best shot. We weren't dealt the best hand. I returned from my trip from Carlsbad to Carlsbad (see last post - still doesn't get old!) Friday afternoon, and was picked up at the airport by David only to be taken to a potential rental house. I was absolutely starving and had very few words to offer up in praise or dismissal of the choice. When I'm low blood sugar, baby, watch out!

So after some more house hunting, a bit of re-packing, we end up leaving our house at around 4:30. Going north, out of San Diego on a Friday toward Las Vegas. Seriously? I was in tears about an hour into it and only about 20 miles away from home. I am not a well-seasoned SoCal driver. At this point, all I wanted was a large meal and a soft warm bed. A highway packed with hyped up people heading to Vegas for the weekend was not exactly what I was looking forward to.

But I drove us there successfully, arriving at some God-awful time like 11pm. "Why do we even go here?" crossed my mind more than once on approach, and over the course of the drive, "Wow - this is really far" was also a frequent thought.

We chose to go there because David took a deal at a Hilton Grand Vacation Club on the strip and figured it would be a fun weekend trip. Fun weekend trips usually don't start with five to six hour car trips in heavy traffic, but maybe they can. And yes, a five hour drive is WAY TOO LONG for a weekend trip.

So what do Vegas haters do in Vegas? Damned if I know. I guess one thing would be to sleep late - which I can appreciate - especially after a week alone in a hotel in Carlsbad. Eat a ginormous breakfast where your waitress serves you in obnoxious lingerie and shiny nude tights? Sure, why not. Hmm. Then what.

Well, we were close to Circus Circus and were told there were things for kids to do in there. That is, once you wade through what seems like miles and miles of smoky low-class gambling areas. Eventually we found our way to a child-level of gambling - otherwise known as an arcade. Well, I got myself warmed up on a little skee ball, had a disappointing first showing, but then after David left to retrieve the car from where we had to park it (perhaps in Arizona, it would seem) I was getting my game ON. On my first game upon returning, I was 10 points shy of the medium-sized stuffed-y. I won a sparkly blue fish. Awesome. Feeling my game, I went for it again - after all, even thought the kids don't really go for stuffed animals anymore, I had to win one for the other kid, right? Well, it wasn't going so well - I was 100 points away from winning - one ball left. There are 100 point holes in the top corners. Yeah, I totally went for it, because that's how I roll. On my first try, the ball hit the hole and popped out so I got to try again - and bam, right in. All those years of hand-eye coordination on the basketball team finally paid off in the form of a green stuffed fish win in Vegas. Yee-haw! David would SURELY be jealous.

If only I had channeled that bravado and bit of luck toward, like, a REAL game. But no. I'm a simple skee-ball queen from Idaho. What more could I hope for?

Well, I could hope to not be completely bored to tears by a 2.5 hour long Hilton presentation that would try the patience of a saint. Seriously, people! How many levels of managers did I have to suffer through in order for you to let me go? Three, four? Car salesman could only dream of the slight of hand you all have mastered! Fortunately for me, I had practiced saying No over and over again before the sales pitch, and even though David was finally taken with the last offer, I held firm. Held firm, I say! If only to make the point that I was NOT going to give in to these people despite their very best slimy efforts! They could've offered to give me like $1K, a back massage, and fresh organic mango fed to me by a slice of man pie at that point, and I would've firmly said NO!

I think I have issues with sales people.

I actually forget what we did after that. It was a scarring event. Eventually, we ended up back at Circus Circus for the kids to try out the 'craziest roller coaster David could remember being on'. I passed. Of course! I considered it, but then was like - eh. I really don't want to throw up in Vegas - however it is caused.

After spending a lot of time in these older casinos that try to make you feel like it's night time all the time, we decided to have our dinner in the Venetian, which is pretty much the opposite. I'm not sure what's creepier - pretending it's always night or always day.

Before we got to experience The Venetian, however, we took in the pirate show outside of Treasure Island. Don't ask me why. I truly wish I hadn't. Ethan looked over at me at one point as if to say, "Honestly, mom? This is inappropriate!" And just truly horrible. Again, I hate Vegas.

But I will grant that it has good food. We had a fabulous meal at an Italian restaurant in The Venetian. We really enjoyed our time there, and our waiter's name was Giuseppe. Or at least, that was the claim.

We managed to catch the volcano erupting at The Mirage as we were driving by, but alas, I still have yet to see the Bellagio fountains. We stood there waiting for 15 minutes, only to find out they were cancelled due to high winds. Add to the delight of Vegas - its very special weather.

Mornings in Vegas are special, too. If you're lucky, your husband might get hit on by a group of women still drunk from the night before - in the elevator, in front of your children. Vegas - good times. Luckily I was wearing a tank top and had my fierce face on, and as soon as they saw me, they completely shut up. That's right, ladies! You don't want to experience my gun show.

The highlight of the trip was foretold by my airplane seat mate from the previous Friday's flight from El Paso to LA. He was so troubled by the fact that I wasn't looking forward to my Vegas trip - he finally said, "At least go to the Wynn - it's awesome". Not sure what HE was referring to, but what I'm referring to is its weekend brunch. We almost bailed because there was a smallish line, and David doesn't wait for anything - ever. Ever. Advice from me to you - don't go to Disney with David. He doesn't just want the FastPass - he wants the DavidPass - i.e., no line, no ticket, no fuss - all about him getting where he wants to go - first. But the kids and I managed to persuade him to stay - and it was well worth the small fortune we paid for it. I think my stomach grew three sizes too large from the experience. I feel sick just thinking about it!

Vegas memories!

Needless to say, I don't think we'll be making this drive any time soon.

But somehow we managed to have a good time. Makes for a good story, at least.

I also had the opportunity to consider possible job opportunities Vegas might offer me, if all this programming and business and high class stuff doesn't work out. So the first option is waitress in the Wynn. It has the best ventilation from what I can tell, and the classiest inside. I think I could maybe pull of those shiny tights and short shorts. Maybe - well, at least as good as those waitresses were. But it was morning shift. I'd probably get morning shift.

Another option would be a dealer. David suggested this. I was like, seriously? That's for old ugly Asian ladies with serious faces. Thanks for the vote of confidence - eh - but it's an option.

The last option would be to start a bike taxi company for the strip. Maybe there are already some there - but we didn't see any. Probably no one wants to brave the insane traffic, drunk passengers, and horrible weather - but it's flat! There's a lot of foot traffic! We could drive to Vegas every weekend for our training - make a little money in the process.

A girl needs options.

From Carlsbad to Carlsbad

2011-05-23T23:57:00.002-07:00

Having ground a small piece of glass deep into the dead center of my footpad this morning, I figure I might as well catch up on a post or two as I soak my foot in hot water. Old wive's tale or not, the all over burning kind of takes my focus off of the pointed pain where the glass may or may not still be.

I wish I had some pictures to accompany this post, but alas I do not. I was in such a state of self-pity on my trip (at least for the first few days) I didn't even bother to get the camera out.

But I am glad I made the trip if for no other reason than to say over and over again that I was going from Carlsbad to Carlsbad - because really, it doesn't get old.

I have been travelling to Carlsbad, NM, about 2-4 times per year for work for the past seven years. I have been going there long enough now that I join the locals in saying, "The place across from where the Pasta Cafe used to be", or "The motel that was called Quality Inn, but was then Ocotillo Inn, but is now America's Best Value". I have seen many a restaurant come and go, have seen the desert in bloom and drought (current state), and have driven the route from El Paso more times than I care to remember.

I have stuck around long enough for the arrival of a Marriott (amazingly - finally - although only Fairfield level, of course!), and the establishment of two actually quite nice restaurants (The Stock Exchange and The Trinity). I had memorable fish dishes several nights while there (and memorable for GOOD reasons), and the tiramisu I ate at The Trinity was way, WAY better than the one I just had in Little Italy in San Diego tonight! I even had a chocolate croissant and an americano one morning - which for any of you who have ever travelled to that part of the country (SE New Mexico/West Texas) you know that's quite an amazing find.

Perhaps more importantly than all of that, I realized the importance of the personal relationships you establish through work - what an interesting group of people I have had the pleasure to work with.... Several are retiring and it was quite special to have a chance to say good bye to everyone.

Long Overdue - The kids last swim meet

2011-05-21T21:14:00.003-07:00

Three weeks ago the kids participated in a swim meet in a gorgeous pool at Coronado Island. Who knew two and a half years ago on our first family trip to Coronado that we'd be participating in a swim meet there as locals?

I certainly did not envision us making the move from Idaho at that point. I'd sort of gotten in the groove of - winter too long, hands too cold, cross country skiing until I thought I could not slide another step, spring as winter - not spring, snow in June, snow in September, hiking for those two months it wasn't winter (July and August only) - I mean, what's not to love.

But here we are. I have probably mentioned this before, but all the swim meets here are OUTDOORS - which is sort of cool, but wow - the sun here is ridiculously strong. Having done the century ride the day before, the last thing my body needed was more sun. Well, it got it anyway.

On to the competition - the kids were pretty happy to be only doing one out of the three days of the swim meet. This was their first long course (50 meter length) swim meet of the year - which was extremely obvious when they both completely died on the second length of their 100 freestyle races after beating everyone to the turn. Oops! 50 meters is SUPER long.

Here are the results:

Lucy:
100M Free 1:15.14 (A time)
50M Breast 48.18 (B time)
100 Fly 1:24.30 (A time) - 2nd place in the B division - although she won't be competing in the B division again.
200 IM 3:05.35 (A time)

'A' times in 3 out of 4 events is a very excellent result. Hopefully she can score some JO times in the next meet so we can attend the Junior Olympic meet at the end of the season.

Ethan:
100 Free 1:22.9 (JO time)
50 Back 43.64 (JO time)
50 Breast 50.97 (JO time)
200 IM 3:23.45 (JO time)

Ethan was supposed to have been too sick to compete that day, but somehow ended up with JO qualifying times in everything.

We finished the morning with brunch at an old Coronado favorite (at least in our book) - Il Fornaio. This place has a great view of the bay, and generally has outstanding food and service. We ate here every time we vacationed here - the kids have fond memories and always want to go back.

Our trip to Coronado this time did NOT include an exciting adventure with a stolen surrey - thank God - although Lucy suggested we rent one, leave it somewhere, and bait someone to steal it so she could see David chase someone down again. Good times.

We have another swim meet next weekend - this time in La Jolla, and for two days. I am hoping to capture some photos and possibly a video or two of a race.

Finally: The Temecula Challenge

2011-05-17T23:17:00.004-07:00

My mom mentioned the other day that it had been MONTHS since I updated my blog. Well, not exactly months, but yeah, it's been awhile. I was basically pointlessly waiting for the organizers of the Temecula Challenge to post the results so I could prove the post I'm about to write - but hell might freeze over first, or we might find a new house to rent, I might become an optimist - or I might, for once in my life, say something that isn't at least 25% sarcasm.

So what is this Temecula Challenge anyway?

Well, interestingly, the last time I posted was about my experience picking strawberries in Pauma Valley - still a seminal event of this spring. This day, along with the Carbon Connection Sunday bike rides through Valley Center, made me particularly susceptible to suggestion by my instant-a-friend - random guy in the ViaSat jersey - who I ended up riding back from Oceanside with me one day and told me all about this ride. He completely convinced me (I just met him - my only other interaction with him was passing he and his team one day on the PCH having asked, "Hey - are you guys going to start going faster anytime soon?") that I was trained and ready for this event. Since I seem to take the advice of strangers much more seriously than the advice of those I know and love, and since I am completely driven by my sense of smell (for good or evil), I decided to sign up for this race.

Why do I mention my sense of smell (I have been told I am the queen of random references I never explain)? If you have ever been to Valley Center or Pauma Valley, you know what I am talking about. This is the land of orange groves and strawberry fields (and other things I know nothing about - this is all I notice). During this time frame, the fields were laden with delicious smelling strawberries (still are), and the orange and tangerine trees were (are) in bloom. I have never smelled anything so heavenly. I am a simple person in that way, and despite the threat of 100 miles and 10,000 feet of climbing, my mind said, "I want to smell that.... for 100 miles."

What's funny about this ride/race is that the website they posted is truly threatening - and I quote, "This is an extremely tough century. Do not attempt it unless you are a well conditioned cyclist with previous successful experience in mountainous centuries." It goes on, blah blah blah, the course will close, you'll be stranded in the dark in a strange land with strange people, blah blah blah, doom and gloom will rain upon you if you do this without having done a century before, blah blah blah.

Take note: I had not done a century before. For those readers who do not already know, a century is 100 miles. The closest I came was 80 miles along the Oregon Coast summer of 2010, and multiple 75 mile rides to Victor from Idaho Falls 2009-2010. The longest ride I did this year was about 70 miles to San Clemente and back - but that's a coastal ride and as I've been warned while riding in the century's general vicinity, "Dorothy, you're not on the Pacific Coast Highway anymore."

But random ViaSat guy thought I was totally ready, so you know, I was ready. That didn't keep me from fretting for days before and pretty much lying awake panicked and sleepless the night before. A tiny bit paralyzed, you know, with mind numbing fear - mostly of the Palomar Mountain descent and whether or not I could actually NOT DIE while going down a hill that large.

So what's this Palomar Mountain deal. Well, being most recently from Idaho, I feel a little bit snobbyish about mountains. Even though I never actually climbed Teton Pass, I did some decent climbing in Idaho and felt that with no peaks over like 6000 ft. in this part of SoCal, honestly, how hard could climbs around here be? Of course, I've biked around here long enough already to know that is ridiculous STUPID, because when you start at THE OCEAN, 6000 feet is HUGE.

So the greatest part of this ride ("ride" because the century itself is not a race), was best stated by the organizers: "An “HC” climb, Mt. Palomar is very similar statistically to the Galibier in France. By itself, Mt. Palomar is a leg-burning, lung-busting climb. Just summitting is an accomplishment for most cyclists. Putting it in the middle of an 10,000’ century is sick. Putting a stop watch on it is sadistic. Those who make it to the top of Mt. Palomar still have Cole Grade, Couzer Canyon, and Rice Canyon to wring whatever strength is left in their bodies. Those who return to the finish line will have met the “Temecula Challenge.” This is not a century for beginners."

Since I don't know what "the Galibier" is, and since I am a "century beginner", that right there should've been enough to scare me away. I did take their advice and watched the "Tour of California summit on Mt. Palomar" on YouTube "for inspiration", but lots of cowbell sounds and the sight of the occasional ridiculously skinny professional cyclist blowing by really didn't... inspire me.

Ok. So that's enough build up already, right? Right. So, we of course did not start the ride with everyone else. David kind of poked around and putzed and did whatever it is that David does (apparently, I found out later, intentionally delaying us)... We started around 7:15 am, with me already a little short-tempered (read: scary thing that rhymes with "witch") - thinking that that was 15 minutes less I'd have to finish this thing before they chased my sorry sore butt off the course for being a loser. Because that's the kind of positive thinking I engage in. Regularly.

David's thinking in starting late is that we'd spend the entire ride passing people, and that this would be a great inspiration to me, as I am essentially overly-competitive to the point of madness.

Well, I suppose he was right. And we did pass people the entire way - that is, when we were finding our way. They gave us a little card that described the course, and it took me a good 4-5 turns to learn how to interpret the thing, but then I kept forgetting. Fortunately, everyone was in front of us, which was also his plan, as David and navigation are not good friends. He relies on "way points", like his robots, which in this case, are essentially "other riders". That David. Always thinking ahead. We managed to not get lost at all - another big fear of mine, as making 100 miles EVEN LONGER was not in my plan.

We had agreed to "take it easy" on the way to Palomar Mountain (about 40 miles or so away from Temecula) - which could mean anything to David, including a speed which I cannot maintain without literally dying. But today it was actually o.k., probably due to the fact that we were blessed with a "Weather Alert" level wind at our backs on the way out - which was just amazingly fortunate (for the ride out). We had also agreed to stop at each rest stop - because one of my biggest problems with long bike rides is running out of fuel. I usually refuse to eat like I'm some sort of bird-like delicate eater (which I am clearly NOT), and then end up cramping and crazed by about 50 miles. So my plan was to eat something of whatever it was they were offering at each stop. Yum. Valley Center oranges. Real food! Who knew... I had expected some chemically-substance to be offered as "what you crazy endurance people like to consume" at each stop - but no, these are real people, offering actual food, not something with "gu" or "gel" or "uum" in the name. Something that does NOT contain soy protein isolate. But how I do love some good soy protein isolate!

My sister is right now most likely saying that this post is going on entirely too long, and on top of that, there are no pictures. Well, cyclists don't carry cameras. Or at least, that's what I'm told. The weight, you know. Like the 5 extra pounds on my midsection matter so much less than that tiny camera. But anyway. And I looked through every single picture posted on their website and facebook and found none of me. I will definitely post one if I ever get one.

And I am entitled to go on and on. The bike ride did.

So anyway, eventually we got down around the area I was familiar with from Sunday rides and that kind of made me relax somehow, like yeah, this isn't so bad. The weather was simply perfect - not too hot and not too cold, and we kept well hydrated.

Then we came to the bottom of Palomar Mountain. **Doom and gloom music plays** My God, that is a big mountain. I had read about it, so I mentally knew what was coming, but physically it's an entirely different story. The climb is quoted as anywhere from 12 to 16 miles - I think it is most accurate around 12-ish. What's odd about this time trial component is that they make you ride about half way up the hill BEFORE you start your race. Around mile 3.5 on the hill, I was like, good Lord, when am I going to get to the damned cattle grate (where the timing started)? I was so sort of numb with nerves and just generally **ugh** at this point, I just wanted to get the thing over with. There was a rest stop right before the timing started, and so we stopped - and stood around looking nervously at everyone else (at least I did - David more sort of strutted, as he pretty much knew he'd win).

My heart is starting to beat funny just remembering this. Well, anyway, so we took off. David paused behind me to fix something, I can't even remember what, and so he was behind a bit. I caught a guy in a team uniform ("Waste Management") and I thought, huh, he's all Joe Pro, maybe I should just try to trail him - except that he was going kind of damn slow. I was like, seriously? Is there something I don't know, or should I just pass this guy?

So I passed him. And then David flew by like Palomar Mountain was suddenly converted to Death Valley and he wasn't sure why the rest of us were just kind of poking along while he sprinted. Yeah, I hated him along with the rest of the plebes caught in his exhaust fumes.

And then the hill climb went on for 6.7 miles. I think from this point, the timed portion was something like 2500 ft or so. The grades are something like an average of 6%. What I was told, and what made me feel not so distressed, was that the road traveled up switchback-style. I actually really like that kind of climb, as it's not totally continuous, although it's entirely uphill and never at all downhill, it's not constant.

Well, long story short, I passed many a rider on the way up, and the only time I was passed was by David near the bottom. At one point, about halfway up, I passed a young man (younger than me, at least) who looked up, realized I was a woman, and groaned (very loudly) in ultimate agony - as if to say, I am already suffering, and then to get passed by a girl! I received several such statements of encouragement, whether they intended them to be or not. I finished the hill strong and only slightly wheezed at the top - probably mostly due to motorcycle exhaust (the hill was packed with motorcycles). I did continously wonder as I climbed, "Do all these people know something I don't? Is something coming up that is going to kill me? Are they sprinting the end? Like, what's the deal with me passing people?" But nothing really changed. It just climbed and climbed about the same. And eventually stopped. Thank God.

Ugh. The way down. The little hairs on my spine raise when I remember that experience. It's what kept me off of Teton Pass all those years, what keeps me from mountain biking, what keeps me from skiing... fear of the downhill. It's fairly paralyzing, and it took all I had to make it down. I had to just sort of blank out and survive, and yeah, occasionally shake out my hands which were numb from cold, vibrations, and squeezing the brakes like a crazy person.

But I survived. Only to be greeted by David at the bottom with, "you might have screamed uphill, but you are the slowest downhiller ever." Indeed. But I was alive and down the hill, which wass all that mattered. Aside from our times, that is. We found out our approximate times, and I was totally thrilled - I knew I had beat the previous year's woman's record.

It was enough to encourage me to finish the ride - which was no small fete. And the way these things go, you have to actually finish the ride for your time trial to count in the overall standings. So I had some real motivation while ascending Cole Grade Road, that very same road I travelled down to pick strawberries the weekend before and thought, "This might be the steepest hill ever - except for that mountain over there".

We did indeed pass the strawberry fields, numerous orange groves, the fruit stand with the "green juice", ascended Couser Canyon (steepest part of the ride), and then ended up Rice Canyon and another nameless ascent to Temecula that about did me in - what with the crazy headwinds and even more climibing around mile 93.

And now you are about as tired from reading this as I was at the end of the ride. Mission accomplished.

So where did we end up. Well, this was actually a pretty small event. You can see why - as their descriptions I included here of the ride were really quite intimidating. I don't know the number of competitors in the time trial, but it was certainly under 100. I ended up placing 1st for women overall (there were maybe like 6 women who participated), and David was 1st for men overall. My time was around 48 minutes, which beat the previous year's female record by 6 minutes. David's time was 37 minutes, which beat the men's record by 1 minute. Aside from actually finishing, what I was most proud of was (a) that I was 7th overall (i.e., including all male competitors), and (b) seeing the organizer's face when he learned I had never even done a century before.

I was a little sad that I did not get to see Floyd Landis, though, who apparently lives in Murrieta and trains on Palomar Mountain. We had thought of all kinds of silly things to say to him or silly situations to find ourselves in to entertain us on the long ride. Alas. No Floyd.

And no cowbells at the mountain top either. But I am no professional cyclist, so I will just be glad to have this memory of an accomplishment I wasn't entirely certain I could attain.

Lonely Train

2011-04-25T09:07:00.003-07:00

Alone on a train is sad

Head bumping on the cold, expansive window

The gray world is sprinting past

To distance itself from me

Slipshod, screeching rattletrap, carries me away from you

Rain streams away across the window

Veering from the lonesome aura of my solitary state.

“I really should be with her,” I tell the train.

Not entirely heartless,

The train shudders in empathy

And rocks me gently in methodical reply

The bosom of a train is cold comfort

I hate the dog-eared pathos

Of my lonesome and pocket-ravaged ticket

A world full of people that aren’t you

Maybe the loud, stumbling-brown-paper-bag-guy will sit by me?

But he has other prospects

My gift for transit solitude still unsullied

His baritone an instant pull for the round-hipped conductress

Who fingers his ticket fondly, and punches it with amorous appeal

Why am I the only one forlorn?

I watch the double ticket punch across the aisle:

The overly-content ticket holders hold each other, draped across the seats

So snug, with careless comfort they haphazardly intertwine

How can they disregard the seething envy of my lingering eyes?

Their two tickets slide together

Neat and well-aligned

And find a snug perch atop the regional rail unleather seats

Their incautious transit love has made me wistful wise:

Will you be my slapdash, runaway companion?

The world could never catch us

If we go together

Jump this train with me!

It’s not a “quiet car”

The desultory, non-stop, life-for-real express

A train that can’t be turned around or disembarked

Ready for what is next

Steady hand in hand

Confident in knowing us, if nothing else

No good to wish we knew the route ahead

Racing always forward into the unknown

Our eyes and hearts locked tight

I turn towards the welcome beckon of your unfurled smile

I gladly turn my face from the glass

The speeding world stops short

The daunting passage of world-washed, blue-jean cares blurs

Lost behind the unexpected dawn of your sunrise face

The whole outside mere flecks of gold

Reflected in the bright green field of your expansive eyes

Let’s shake the very next moment in our hands

And roll out the next cross-roads in our life

Another I-Don’t-Know-What-To-Do choice

Do we need to transfer here?

The stations aren’t well marked in these here parts

But we’re still young and out of line

Wherever we end up, we’ll buy some bread and be just fine

Take my hands that know the night-time quivers of your frame

With you the window won’t be cold

The rain drops will cohere

The world will rush to keep up, but always fall behind

Wrap ourselves across the seats

I’ll lean right into you

A better bosom altogether

Look into my eyes

That know the tear-streaked wrinkles in your soul

I have no fairy dust to take us out of here

I don’t know where this train is going

It seems a hopeless case

But here you are right in front of me

The best and only destination

Flying Through the Week and Landing in Strawberry Fields

2011-04-23T23:17:00.012-07:00

This week has been another long one. Single parenting has its challenges, and to be honest, I'm not always up to them. I slip up. I serve leftovers. I lose my patience. I read a book through a track meet. I show up late for the soccer scrimmage, and my son is the only one without a water bottle. I have $2 in coins to chip in for the referee, and that's the only money in my wallet. I pour myself a glass of cheap organic wine, and drink it alone while watching an overly-dramatic historical drama on Oxygen (topic: the English monarchy, of course).

But all's well that ends well, and this week surely did end well. All completely by chance, of course, but don't the best things always happen that way?

David was out of town today, thereby forfeiting his "weekend" - meaning, the rest of us had to come to a decision about what to entertain ourselves with today. I found a cute little lunch spot out in the countryside east of I-15 while on a bike ride a few weeks back, and I decided I wanted to return there to see if the inside really truly made me feel like I'd traveled to the Shire, and honestly, was the "green" drink made of things that sounded like they'd be absolutely awful together (grapefruit, green apple, chard, wild spinach, flax seed) really taste as good as I remember it tasting? Then we were going to hike - either at Palomar Mountain or Daley Ranch in Escondido.

Well, given that I dropped the hint earlier, things did not turn out as we expected. With Ethan dying for a bathroom, Lucy growing feint from hunger, and me getting into dangerous mental territory due to caffeine deprivation, we arrived at the little hollow on Lilac Road where the restaurant is located - only to find it locked shut. Damn it.

Given my typical reaction to adversity this week, I completely surprised myself by not freaking out. We were close to several towns, and Lucy is skilled with the Garmin - we worked it out. I already forget the name of the place, but they offered cheeseburgers (Ethan was satisfied), ice cream (Lucy was satisfied), and coffee (barely drinkable, but at 2pm, caffeine is caffeine - Heather was about as satisfied as she ever is). As we sat waiting for our food, I happened to notice a poster advertising U-pick strawberries - $5 per bag. Garmin told me it was about 7 miles away, using Cole Grade Road to get there - a road I recognized from the Temecula Challenge I was considering trying. Curious to see what that road was like, I made the whole affair rather appealing to the children - "We can pick strawberries and make pies and fresh whipped cream. We won't be far from either of the hikes we were planning on doing, so we can still do them if you want to."

Well, they were placating me with the hiking anyway - so it wasn't exactly a hard sell.

(Non-sequitir - why do I hate Matthew McConaughey so much? Topic for another day.)

Back to the strawberries. We wind down Cole Grade Road to Pauma Valley (thoughts: good Lord, that's a huge hill - in one week's time I'll be climbing that AFTER I race up Palomar Mountain... there's so many things wrong with that train of thought). The farm is pretty much right at the bottom of the hill, replete with chickens living the dream and mutts wandering free. The extremely chill woman working at the stand greeted us and immediately invited us to let Sally out of the car to have a taste of freedom she hasn't felt since the Teton Valley days. As the dogs romped among rows of organic greens, we were informed that there was only one rule - "Eat as many strawberries as you can while you're out there."

So there we were - spending the afternoon slurping down strawberries in the shadow of the mountain. Not even an almost-disaster on our walk over to the patch could ruin my bliss (the romping dogs literally took my legs out, completely by surprise - I landed damn hard on my left side and am now somewhat afraid of how crippled I'll be when I wake up in the morning).

The kids are so funny - I kept trying to convince them to eat more strawberries (I certainly needed no prodding). They are so goal-oriented, they didn't want to lose sight of the goal of filling their bag - the more they would eat, the slower the bag filled, and they simply can't have that.

Ethan got a little nervous when I praised his careful berry-handling skills, eye for the big ripe ones, short stature, and small hands - suggesting he could get a weekend job to help pay the rent. He doesn't always pick up on jokes.

In addition to getting laid out by the dogs, I also managed to scratch both arms with nettles (and I was immediately returned to age six, running up the hill in my neighbors yard, tears streaming down my cheeks, desperate for calamine lotion and pity).

But I still absolutely loved it.

I grew up in the country. We were certainly no farmers, we had no higher cause, and we didn't usually produce more than we could use ... but some of my most poignant memories of childhood revolve around picking fruit - apples, pears, peaches, grapes (I was perhaps a little over-fond of 'starting' the siphon on the wine batches), the glorious years we grew bing cherries... And of course, never forget the very favorite - visiting the blackberry patches in August in the heat and humidity and insects, worried that there were snakes in the bushes and black bears who wouldn't take too kindly to us raiding their favorite snack spot - and me, eight years old (or ten or twenty) with purple-stained hands, stained shirt, and stained shorts - because I certainly didn't have the work ethic of my children, and anyway, who could pass up the heavenly taste of plump blackberries straight from the bush.

As promised, after a brief cycle around the hills of Carlsbad, I converted about 2/3 of our yield into (hopefully) delicious pies. I say "hopefully" as they didn't get assembled until about 8:45pm, and they require four hours of refrigeration in order to properly set - thus they remain untested.

[Considers the fact that it is now close to 1:00 a.m. and surely they are set by now - but no, the kids would mutiny in the morning to know I dug in without them]

I better get myself off to bed before I get completely sucked into 19 hours of Lady Gaga on Fuse. She really is ridiculous - in an absolutely fabulous way.

To all my family out there in PA feasting together later today - I miss you all and wish you a fun day. Not to worry - I'll be consoling myself with pie. And I can't talk about pie, without thinking about the movie "Waitress"... and so I'll leave you with some quotes (and if you haven't seen it and like quirky, see it):

"I Hate My Husband Pie... You take bittersweet chocolate and don't sweeten it. You make it into a pudding and drown it in caramel"

"Pregnant Miserable Self Pitying Loser Pie... Lumpy oatmeal with fruitcake mashed in. Flambé of course "

Old Joe: [after reading a news column about a woman contemplating suicide] "Oh I love living vicariously through the pain and suffering of others."

"Dear Baby, I hope someday somebody wants to hold you for 20 minutes straight and that's all they do. They don't pull away. They don't look at your face. They don't try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight, without an ounce of selfishness to it."

Soldier Pass - Brins Mesa Trail

2011-04-14T22:06:00.004-07:00

This is one of the best shortish loop hikes I have ever done. Now, here I go saying that and you are going to look at my pictures below (and skip the text - I know my 3 readers generally do that), and think I've completely lost my mind. I'm stuck down here in SoCal suburbanville, and I've forgotten what an awesome hike is, since compared to strolling the local lagoon trail, just about anything would be earth-shattering.

No really, this is pretty special. We just picked a completely horrible day for pictures. We even got rained on - in Arizona, of all places. Honestly, what are the freaking chances. Rain in Arizona. It's like a liberal in Idaho. A rare, but special thing.

We only ended up doing this hike because I remembered making certain turns to get to a hike last year. I didn't remember which one, but I knew it wasn't "Bear Mountain", which I in no uncertain times wanted to do - never trust anything with "Bear" in the name - I said then, and it's still a good idea. Turns out we ended up at the hike involving the "Seven Sacred Pools". I can recall no details as to way these are sacred. They are sort of shallow puddles, best I can tell. Ethan did no desecration of the sacred site this year - nor did anyone else - thankfully. We were not visited upon by any sudden bouts of vomiting (see last year's post!).

"I hope there are no vortexes here. I hate vortexes," remarked Ethan.

No vortexes. There was a meteorite hole, which is kind of cool - except for all the pink jeep tours thronging it. Despite the busy beginning, you get to be by yourself pretty quickly and all in all, it's a hike that truly delivers. As you climb the back side of the canyon, you get views out to the main part of Sedona - with all the famous stone massifs dotting the landscape - which you could totally see in an awesome landscape that I would've taken on a nice day.

When we reached the top of the mesa, Lucy and I did a re-enactment of the fight between David and I last year concerning whether or not the Soldier Pass trail we started off on loops around by way of the Brins Mesa trail. Obviously we knew it did this time, but it was a significant battle and who can pass up the opportunity to relive such things. Every good hike needs a heated discussion.

And then every good hike also needs a portion of the hike that reminds you of a scene from Lord of the Rings. Particularly Mordor. Ethan and David discussed whether this was more like two separate places in Movies 2 and 3 I don't know the name of.

The part of the hike that was most remarkable (and made me the most frustrated with in terms of my photos) was the trail that came down through the canyon on the Brins Mesa trail side. Breathtaking. I made some stupid comment like, "It's so green it's almost blue". Whatever that means.

The trail that connects the two canyons - well, you had two choices. And as I remember the "Jordan trail" from last time, that's the one I went with. Turns out, it weaves all over the place and maybe isn't the best choice. You get to a trail right before that choice called something like "Ciola Pass" - totally take that one. Seriously. You will thank me, because while this hike is awesome, it stops being awesome as you wind up and down, up and down, through not such great scenery, in the RAIN, when your son took your pink cashmere sweater from you because you were the only one to plan ahead ("Ooh... where do I get myself one of THESE," he says - but panics when Lucy teases him that someone is coming down the path and might see him in it).

So of course you know that didn't end our hiking for the day. Because it was David's day, and David's days have to push me to my limits in some fashion. David said, "I want to go to that vortex that's MALE where you have to climb up the slip rock to get there."

Ugh. Seriously. See, I like to think I'm not completely riddled with all kind of crippling fears, but put me on the side of a rock face, and I'm all about the vertigo. Then David will say something, "Look, there's old ladies up here!" And then said old lady is seen off to the right, unnaturally scampering up the rock like she was born with goat feet. Ugh.

Maybe I made it up to about the bottom of where that picture ends. The rock itself goes on much further below. The kids and David went on much further than I did. Which left me to my own devices to get down. I completely went the wrong way and ended up gripping a rock face lizard-style in a state of total panic, with a fellow hiker below me laughing his head off. Thanks, jerk. I laughed, too - because that's about all I could do. Then I said - why the hell did I do all those Jillian Michaels circuit training workouts if I was never going to put them to use? I can do pullups and pushups and all kinds of crazy things - I can pull myself back up to the ledge - which I did eventually, and then I went and beat the crap out of that guy.

Well, I didn't. But I wish I had. Jillian would've.

I think maybe the male vortex through off my chi - well, at least, that's what I'm going to say because that's easier than admitting to my fear of heights.

It truly wouldn't be a "David's day" without shaking legs and vertigo.

I had given David the camera for this hike-cum-crawl as I knew I'd be taking no pictures on this expedition. Here is a typical Sedona scene.

David chose to eat at a Japanese restaurant that night in Oak Creek, on the way south out of Sedona. He chose to eat Yellowtail cheeks. I just love saying that. Yellowtail cheeks.

"I hate female vortexes"

2011-04-14T21:21:00.009-07:00

"In Sedona vortexes are created, not by wind or water, but from spiraling spiritual energy."

Well, Ethan thinks this is a load of you-know-what. Last week after we visited the crazy people that toussle with tigers for fun, Ethan said that we would finish his day in Sedona. His idea of finishing the day involved more looking at cool scenery from the car and eating dinner than visiting vortexes, but so it goes when Mom has control of the wheel.

Last January when we visited Sedona, David and I particularly enjoyed our visit to the back side of Cathedral Rock accessed from a local park (can't remember the name this second) where apparently there is a "female vortex". I was asked last year to explain a vortex... this year I found a website to send the curious to. I think last year the positive energy we felt was due to my parents taking the kids to see a movie, giving us some precious time to relax on our own- not so much anything special about this spot. Although, I imagine it has the potential to be quite lovely.

The kids, being the contrary little beasts they are, decided to take rebel against all of my exhortations against craziness in this particular area - I mean, literally, this is a place people come in their most new-agey yoga-ish clothes and sit and meditate with portable incense - they take their vortexes seriously. Ethan and Lucy took it as a serious challenge to disrupt everyone's peace-seeking. The first activity (which David obviously encouraged) was tree climbing on the sacred trees.

I love the awkwardness of this next photo.

They continued pressing my buttons - crossing creeks, not quite crossing creeks (Ethan tried to jump - hesitated - and didn't quite make it)...

The evening time is especially popular at this spot for the way the waning light highlights Cathedral Rock. My camera is nothing special, and I am no photographer, but it is an awesome spot to try to capture in a variety of ways while your kids fight it out and annoy everyone else trying to capture the moment.

The short trail eventually approaches the stream below Cathedral Rock, which is apparently the site of the vortex. This one is said to be female - I guess because it's sort of soft and inviting? Damned if I know. But I do know one thing - while Sedona has been known to provide this incredible shaft-o-light-hitting-family-member aura to many of my pictures, the aura in this one of Ethan is completely accidental - look at the stone in his hand. Do you know what conversation we were having right then? Me trying to convince Ethan to (a) not throw rocks in the stream , and (b) let me take his picture.

People have built thousands of little rock piles in this area - which although some of the websites on Sedona I've read particular DISCOURAGE this activity, I think it's actually something that contributes quite a bit to the sense of community in the space - you know that literally thousands of people came through here, and felt the need to be part of whatever it is they found special about the spot. Every time I've tried to capture it, it doesn't quite come across in a picture, but I try.

Sedona is one of the most special places I have ever been. Obviously I have never been there in the height of tourist season when I hear it's nothing but mobbed with people. Visit in the "winter" months for the most welcoming temperatures and general atmosphere. I personally believe it offers some of the most spectacular hiking in the U.S.

Back to the quote that titles this post... That is, of course, an Ethan quote. After being frustrated at me preventing him from throwing stones, and him ending up soaking his feet in the creek, he decided this spot was inherently against him, much as he believes his sister is his enemy, prompting him to repeatedly comment, "I hate female vortexes."

Maybe Too Much Animal Interaction

2011-04-07T11:40:00.008-07:00

On our vacations (and also one day per weekend), we enact a policy in our family of allowing a single person to pick the activities for a day. This usually works out well - as you get rid of the whole problem of trying to make everyone happy all the time - and you end up doing things you might not normally pick but end up really enjoying. We designated Ethan the official "Safety Supervisor" - every choice that might be questionable by a family member (namely David), Ethan makes the final say on whether he believes it to be a safe activity or too dangerous. I was deemed too scaredy-cattish for this position, Lucy and David too reckless.

Tuesday was Ethan's day. Ethan usually picks something having to do with zoos or aquariums. We heard about this animal park from the concierge at our timeshare - it was a pretty far drive, but having watched the video online, even Lucy was interested in going.

Right off we knew this was a different kind of place. They had an animal interaction experience right at the entrance where you could hold a snake or parrot, pet a desert tortoise or lizard - and watch a deadly cobra encircle one of the keepers. You couldn't touch it, because it was too dangerous. Yet it was like, right there - within what I might consider striking distance. I stayed off the the side - I absolutely hate snakes. I don't run in terror when I see them, but I wouldn't voluntarily hold it.

Ethan is a huge fan of reptiles. The snake Ethan is holding is a baby green anaconda.

The next thing we did is take the safari tour. We live right near the Safari Park in San Diego, so one might wonder why this was cool for us. Well, as opposed to the San Diego one where you have to pay $90 per person to get close up photos of the safari animlas, here you get up close and personal - like, literally, people had the giraffe licking their face. Antelope were about to charge the bus for treats - we had to drive off fast. It wasn't a super long-distance ride, but the animals were all RIGHT there. It seems like maybe the liability in Arizona must be a WHOLE LOT DIFFERENT, like night and day, from California. I mean, that could go wrong pretty easily.

The big draw aside from the safari is the "Tiger Splash" show. So, get this - there are three keepers and one announcer in a fenced in area with a huge tiger. They taunt this tiger with plastic toys and balls, trying to get it to jump into the pool in the middle the arena or up on the side of the fence. You are sitting thinking - honestly - is this for REAL? Yes, in fact it is, and at one point, I thought one of the keepers was going to get raked across the face with a huge paw. They played with it like one might play with a medium-sized dog. Except this is a tiger, people!! They had to keep taking away its toys by doing an "exchange" with raw meat - yum. Except it was more interested in the toy. How odd. People absolutely love it. I guess it's kind of like watching NASCAR hoping for a crash, or hockey hoping for a fight. Except this would be some sort of gruesome bloody ending we would see in person, live.

Then we got to see the literally MEANEST zookeeper in America conduct an interaction time with the world's longest python - the reticulated python. So they had volunteers from the audience pick it up, and this lady who had no business near a snake (like myself) chose to go hold it near the head. She was completely freaking out - and this keeper, who clearly loves snakes more than people (he told David that handling the cobra was "the most presitigious job in the park") - pretty much told her to man up or move back. Then a little kid asked him a question and he literally told the kid to "Keep it down, I'm trying to talk". I mean, I suppose if I was in charge of interaction time with one of the world's deadliest snakes I might be a little high strung, too - but geez.

There were a lot of cool predators sprinkled around the park - and apparently for the most part, they are rescue animals - taken from people who keep them in apartments or cages on their property or whatever other weird thing you can think of. I had no idea there were so many people who wanted to own predators. Did you know there are more tigers in captivity in Texas than there are left in the wild?

The last show involved more raw meat. Taunting hyenas to hear them laugh (pretty cool, actually), feeding a whole chicken to a tiger, and then feeding beef roasts and watermelon to grizzly bears. Ethan thought this was a fantastic time.

The last presenter was, I guess, entertaining - you know, with the raw meat feeding and all - but he also chose to regale us with misogynist jokes. I looked around and thought, why is everyone laughing? Is that nervous laughter, like, he-he, uh, we're trying to be polite but wow that's not appropriate? Or are they like, really laughing?

Describing how you should interact with bears (although this is also a bad suggestion - I think maybe he was joking): "Don't look the bear in the eye, put some food in front of its nose, and then back away slowly." [pause for effect] "And guys, this always works when you forget your wife's anniversary..."

So Ethan bursts into laughter with everyone else, and so I look at him and say, "Really? You think that's so funny, do you?" And this 70-year old guy standing right behind him chuckles and says, "That's because it IS funny! Ha-ha!"

It was certainly an interesting experience. When we got home, I read about the owners on their website. Different sort of people, different sort of place.

Kayaking on Lake Pleasant

2011-04-04T21:11:00.013-07:00

Lake Pleasant is a man-made lake about 30 miles west of Cave Creek (in the greater Phoenix area). This lake was anything BUT pleasant when we first arrived - there was an amazing wind that was stirring up ocean-sized waves on the surface of the lake. We had come there with the intent to kayak - things were not looking good. To make our trip at least a little bit worthwhile (esp. after Ethan pronounced this the "worst vacation ever" this morning), we headed first to the visitor's center and toured the shore for awhile.

Like a lot of the lakes of the southwest, the color of the water itself is striking - it is a turquoise blue to deep blue, depending on the depth and angle of the light.

At the visitor's center, we were treated to several live examples of desert wildlife, including a tarantula, scorpions, rattlesnake, gila monster ... lots of things to add to my "animals to fear" list for Arizona. The gila monster in particular appears to be fearsome, although recently my fear of snakes has shot through the roof - having run across two very near to me in the last 4 days (one right next to my bike on a bike trail in California, and one on a hiking trail here). Ethan, on the other hand, was quite thrilled with the display, and continued to read the pamphlet on Reptiles as we strolled along the lake.

A desert animal I am NOT afraid of and I think is so cool... the desert tortoise.

Amazingly, by the time we finished meandering on a short trail on the lake's edge and making our way over to the Scorpion Bay marina, the wind had completely died done. Completely. A bit to my chagrin, as the thought of heading out in a kayak wasn't exactly on the top of my to-do list for this vacation (or any vacation). Kayaking looks so peaceful and relaxing, but in all reality, it's a lot of work - shoulder work in particular. Maybe if you're really skilled it's super-peaceful - I wouldn't know.

Neither would Lucy. On the way out, she was voted (by me) "worst kayaker of all time". Lucy was in my boat.

This was not a big day for boating on the lake - we saw maybe five other boats total. It was actually very relaxing and in spite of myself, I ended up enjoying it. Because of my incessant criticism, Lucy ended up not paddling much of the way - which only made it that much harder, although at one point we experimented and she tried to paddle on her own. She actually did not move the boat at all - except maybe in circles... UNTIL... I realized she was sitting too slouched down in her seat. After all - this girl is a champion swimmer - she should be at least as good as me at working with her lats!! Once she sat up better and gripped the paddle right, she was fine.

We mostly stayed along the shoreline, but did a little exploring around several 'islands'. This was fairly recently flooded land (what I understand at least), and in the shallow parts around the islands you could see whole trees and saguaros completely submerged under the water. This is a shot of some saguaros on one of the island. You knew I had to fit some saguaros somewhere into this post.

Lucy and I had spent a little bit of time strolling around the town this morning - something to do while Ethan and David got in a bike ride. We tried to capture some shots of the "local color".

For all your rusted metal furniture and rusted metal lawn decor, there's "El Toro Loco"...

For soaps made of odd things (say, goat's milk) and a trip down memory lane (if your memory includes the Old West c. 1880 or Back to the Future III), there's this strip of stores right behind the main street...

For torturing your family with mountain biking, there's the local bike shop...

For conversation pieces, there's the artwork on Big Earl's Greasy Eats:

(represents the only kind of bike I will be able to pedal following eating at Big Earl's)

Lucy puzzled over this last one off and on throughout the day. "How DOES she like her men, mom? Dark? Strong? Hot?... I think hot."

I found this writing concerning the subject on a blog called She Writes and Pages Catch Flame:
"You could tell a lot about a person by how they drank their coffee. She liked her coffee black, simple, uncomplicated, in the mug, and gone when you’re done with it. Black coffee almost leaves no trace, as long as you drink it fast enough, it’s just dark water."

While I disagree with the statement that black coffee is just dark water (i.e. and wine is just red liquid?? come on...), I do like her statement on how "she likes her coffee". Perhaps that is exactly what that smug lady on the wall was thinking.

Lucy and I ended our evening with a gorgeous little bike ride around Black Mountain - the looming peak that juts out of the landscape right outside our door. It is almost nine miles around. We left around 6:30pm, cutting my ride short, as I didn't put it all together early enough to realize that Arizona NOT doing daylight savings means it actually gets dark here EARLIER than in a normal place at this time of year. However, the approach to twilight is hands-down (in my opinion) the best time in the desert (early morning is close second - if only because I am NOT a morning person so begrudge the lack of sleep to see it).

I never would've anticipated earlier in my life that I would spend so much of my time working and traveling in the desert southwest.

Hiking at Spur Cross Ranch Conservation Area

2011-04-03T21:21:00.010-07:00

After a perhaps overly long discussion with the helpful concierge, I decided we should head out for a moderate hike at the Spur Cross Ranch Conservation Area, which is only about 5 miles from our villa. David and the kids seemed skeptical of my choice, but once we arrived there, we were all glad we came.

Surprisingly, David did NOT point to that peak in the distance and say, "Let's go there!" We actually did a really moderate hike, mostly along the creek, enjoying the mixture of shady areas and landscapes dominated by saguaros.

This area has trails very conducive to mountain biking, leading directly into the surrounding national forest. I am afraid we are going to have a repeat of last year's trip to Arizona where I fail, yet again, to be anything but a scaredy-cat terrible excuse for a mountain biker.

We didn't end up making it very far into the National Forest land, although this time of day was definitely preferable in terms of termperatures than the mid-morning hours. A stiff, cool breeze had stirred up - which made me quite grateful I didn't decide to take the road bike out for a ride today.

Are you starting to wonder how many saguaro pictures I am going to pack into this post? Saguaros in Arizona are like bison in Yellowstone - at least, that's what Lucy says. The first few times you see them, you are so excited, but they they just start to blend into the landscape.

I beg to differ. I think they all have such wonderful personalities.

If you look super-close, you might be able to spot the stream in this picture. And yet somehow, I still managed to do each stream crossing with the same fear I would conjure up in say, Idaho, where there would be rushing torrents of ice cold water in the "spring" (read: June).

Lucy pronounced that we had to hike at least 8 miles before we could be finished for the day. I tended to agree with Ethan that I had had enough sun and stones-in-the-sneakers for one day and was ready to head back for some relaxation. We delicate San Diego flowers aren't as used to the extremes of desert hiking these days. And if I remember previous family conversations correctly, this vacation was supposed to be more about relaxation than exercise fanaticism. We'll see how that works out for us.