Which of These Things is Not Like the Other?

Take a look and see if you can figure it out...



I know! Who's that totally tall dude who is, we estimate, a foot taller than any of us!?

That's Bigfoot! I'm not going to put his real name on here because his mom, M, has been so careful to protect her family's identities on the Internet all these years (unlike me).

Anyway, M's daughter and Finn had the same type of cancer and we "met," as often happens, through various and sundry Caringbridge pages oh so many years ago. And Postcard Cindy (who we called Cindy from Sonoma) also played a role :). Crazy how the Internet works, isn't it?

So, M's son, who is known on M's blog as Bigfoot, goes to college in Colorado and came to meet us because we are near his school at a hockey tournament this weekend.

Finn couldn't get over how tall Bigfoot is. I couldn't get over how tall he is. Funny story: I told Bigfoot to call me when he got to the rink so he wouldn't have to pay. He called, I couldn't get signal. So I ran down one set of steps while he walked up a different set of steps. I got to the entrance area and he wasn't there. I asked the guy at the front, "Did a really tall guy just come through here?" The guy laughed. "He went that way," and motioned up the other steps. M had said, "You can't miss him," and she was right.

Thank you M and Bigfoot! Truly, what a great kid. Now we just need to meet M...

So we've been at this tournament since Thursday. We drove here in a snowstorm, of course. Thursday was Eamonn's birthday. He left the house and ended up in a ditch in his work van. He couldn't even get to the house he was supposed to be working at, so he came home early, ready to head out of town. I was there, still in my sweats, trying to finish work and discovering that the dryer didn't work. We had to take a load over to our neighbor's. And of course, it was a load that included my underwear. Nice. They're great friends and neighbors, but I feel we may have breached some sort of ettiquette by putting my undies in their dryer. I may have to gift them with something spectacular to get past this.

This tournament is long. The boys played twice on Friday and then once each day since. They have won all of their games, so we will stay for the final tomorrow. I enjoy eating out every once in awhile, but this is a long time. To make up for it, I have been going to exercise to my DVDs in a hotel conference room set aside for all of the hockey teams to hang out and play knee hockey. This morning, even though I was in there by 5am, I was discovered by some hotel workers who were coming in to clean. Maybe it's just me, but I don't really dig having other people watch me leap around while I'm exercising. Fortunately, I was almost finished, but had they been 5 minutes earlier, they would have seen me jab, cross, hook, upper cutting my way through Chalene Johnson's TurboFire. I've seen my reflection in the windows at home. I'm not exactly coordinated looking.

Whatever.

So the fact that the hockey games have been really spread out have allowed us to do some siteseeing around Colorado Springs. Yesterday, we toured the Olympic Training Center here. Eamonn and I were blubbering our way through one of the videos they show featuring the para-Olympians. Very inspiring and touching.

Today we toured the Air Force Academy. I can pretty much rest assured that the boys don't have that school in their sights after watching the video about what the cadets go through!

A few pics of our weekend so far...





Eamonn's friend, Craig, who is on the wall of Olympic athletes. We were talking about how we'd never find his picture (they're not alphabetical or anything) and we were standing right in front of him.


Bobsledding on a slightly slower surface.


Declan in front of a goalie cut out on the Olympic Training Center tour.




Air Force Academy Chapel.


Inside the chapel.

I think the most exciting thing for the boys at the Air Force Academy was discovering there is a Subway in the visitor's center.

Are You Holipausal?

So yesterday, Tara and I coined (at least I think we're the first to come up with it--I should Google it) a new phrase for how women feel at the holidays: holipausal.

I felt holipausal last year: rushed, stessed, not able to slow down and enjoy the season. This year, I'm holding steady, which I attribute to getting the shopping and wrapping finished last week, leaving this week open to lying around and complaining about the rain (more about that later).

The term holipausal came about when Tara was telling me about a meltdown she had over the Christmas tree, which they did not have, could not find, and her husband was talking about waiting until the day before Christmas Eve to get. I'll spare you the gory details, but, as anyone would assume when a woman has a meltdown, I asked Tara if she had PMS. She said, "No, unfortunately, because that would be the best way to explain away everything!"

So if you're not premenstrual, menstrual or postmenstrual, and you're still having a holiday meltdown, you must be holipausal.

Or we're just psycho. Take your pick.

Like I said, everything here is ready for Santa, but two things are causing me angst:

1. The weather. It is raining. RAINING, people. For days. This is why I left Ohio--38 degrees and RAINING. Ironically, Ohio is having a white Christmas, while here, for the first time in decades, it is Christmas week and there is not a lick of snow on the ground at our elevation and none is forecast to be. The resorts have plenty, which is important, but here? Nothing. All of our traditional outdoor Christmas activities have gone awry. No snowshoeing. No sledding. It hasn't even been cold enough to freeze the ice for the town park rink. We could go skiing, of course, but we'd wait in the rain in the parking lot for the shuttle. I do not feel compelled to make "waiting in the rain to ski" one of our new Christmas traditions. For the first few weeks of December, Declan complained and complained that we didn't have snow. "Just wait," I assured him. "Our snow will come." Apparently, I am a huge liar.

2. My Dad called to say that he had shipped the boys' presents and they would likely arrive at the post office late this week. We have no mail delivery in our town, which means everyone has to pick up their mail and packages at the post office. Hence, even at the best of times, the post office is a nightmare. The very thought of having to go to the post office is making me feel faint.

Or maybe I'm just going through holipause.

First Dusting of Snow

Hey, how about me and all of my Colorado scenery pictures lately? Sick of it yet?

Anyway, I wait for this day anxiously every fall--the day that snow is back on New York Mountain which I can see from the street that runs right through the middle of our neighborhood.

Last night, it got pretty cold at our elevation--6,600 feet. And it was raining (have I ever mentioned how much I miss a good, solid rain here in the high desert?). I suspected, and I was right, that the nearby peaks might be getting their first dusting of snow. It's always right around this week every year so far.

The clouds were still heavy when we woke up this morning, so I couldn't tell until they lifted early this afternoon, but then I could definitely see: SNOW!

I have always loved fall: leaves, visiting the pumpkin farm, I even liked Ohio's damp, cold fall weather. It's a little different out here--fall comes fast. The past two summers when we've returned home from Ohio, it's still summer here, but the heat is gone from the air. It's still warm, but not hot, if that makes sense. Nights cool down, leaves are starting to turn by the last week of August. The Aspens are lovely and yellow, but I still miss the reds and oranges of Ohio. We have one street in our neighborhood with maples that are turning red. I'm watching carefully so that when they get a little further along, I'll walk up and down that street all day and take a few pictures.

If you click to enlarge the picture above, you can see patches of yellow on the elevations below the snow capped peaks. Very pretty. I would have been even prettier with the sun out, but we had an unusual lack of sunshine today--very rare out here, trust me (a Midwestern girl at heart, I pine for some really cloudy days. Even Declan comments, "I wish it would rain.").

Here's a picture of the first snow dusting last year, which happened on the night of September 19, 2009 (versus the night of September 22, 2010, this year). Aren't I such a riveting scientist with all of this analysis.



I had thought it was a much sunnier day after that first snow last year, but clearly, it really wasn't. Thank goodness for photographic evidence.

I know some people lament the end of summer and coming of fall, but I look forward to each season here. Each one brings something new and very different so I'm ready for each one when it comes.

However, this little sprinkling of snow makes me want to dash right past fall and and run without passing go to have my skis tuned. But wait, that would mean I'd miss the Halloween candy. I'll dash right after Halloween.

Same Story, Different Year

March 31, 2008



April 1, 2009



I think this robin is in shock. It fell over dead right after I took this.

Just kidding.

It's Not Nice to Fool Mother Nature

Anyone remember a commercial with that tagline in the 70s? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Bueller? Just a little trivia to start the week.

At any rate, I feel like Mother Nature is the one playing a cruel joke on me this year. Where is my Colorado snow?

I love winter. Love, love, love it in an obsessive weird way. While I don't like having to drive in snow with all of the crazies who try to drive their SUVs too fast (they think they're invincible in their big vehicles, but are always the ones in the ditch), I personally don't really mind driving among sane people in the snow (I have great snow tires). I love to see snow, to hear snow (it does actually have a sound when it's falling), be out in snow. I love the way snow makes the landscape look. I love to ski in it, walk in it, snowshoe in it, and watch the kids roll around in it. I've even been known to make a random snow angel as a grown up. Ah, snow.

In addition, because we live in a ski resort area, snow is vital to our economy.

And yet it eludes me this year.

We had record setting snow in December. A terrible teaser. Because now we've barely had any new snow since late December. I am starting to see grass on the edges of our yard. That usually doesn't happen until mid to late March.

The resorts, which are at least 2,000 feet higher than we are have had a few dustings. In fact, as I look our windows to the north, I can see that there is weather of some description happening up on an elevation called Castle Peak. Down here? Nothing. I guess if anyone should get the snow, it should be the slopes, but this is depressing. Last night I walked home from a friend's house in a freezing cold rain. Isn't this why I left Ohio? Gahhhhh! I can't stand it.

And now I've realized that I've turned into an opposite version of my mother who complained (still does) about how she hated winter weather each and every day from late October to mid-March while we were growing up. She wanted to know why the snow and cold wouldn't go away; I want to know why it's avoiding me.

You just can't please everyone.

Writer's Block--A Timeline of Procrastination

No, no, not for the blog. I can almost always think of something to come here and yammer about on a daily basis. And I love it that you come and read. No, I'm talking about writer's block for my actual work writing. Writing that I am supposed to do for money, and so you'd think that would make me finish it in a timely fashion. You'd think.

I had a client's magazine deadline on Monday. My original plan was to have it all finished last Friday so I would not have that "oh my gosh, it's Sunday night and I haven't done my homework" panic attack that I remember so well from middle school, high school, college and graduate school. I hate, wait, let me rephrase that, HATE that feeling. Something looming over your head. I hate loominess. And yet, I let things looooooom.

So I had this big plan. And then Grandma died and suddenly there were far more important things to think about besides work. Flight arrangements, creating a 1,002 page schedule for Eamonn to follow while I was gone, cooking, cleaning, meal planning, baking, deciding what to wear (and then realizing it was going to be too cold to wear a freaking dress at the funeral in the end so I'm going to have to go shopping here for pants that are acceptable to the masses), and on and on.

So I decided I would write the stories Friday night (five stories in one night???) before flying out last Saturday. As if. I can't exactly recall what happened and what I did last Friday night--oh wait, I do recall--Declan's hockey team played between periods at the Detroit Red Wings Alumni v. Vail Mountaineers charity hockey game in Vail. We didn't get home until 10pm. Yes, yes, it's all coming back to me now. I was packing and still unshowered 30 minutes prior to leaving for the airport on Saturday morning. So no writing got done Friday night.

Saturday night. I arrived and Tara, Mom and I went through family pictures so the funeral home could put together a commerative DVD of Grandma's life. This is big in the funeral industry now, just so you know. And you should also know that I didn't actually do too much work on the picture project. I kind of sorted through some pictures wondering when I could discreetly slip off to bed without being labeled a lazy ass.

Sunday. We drove, in a "snow storm," to the small town my parents and grandparents were from and made funeral arrangements. I did a small amount of work. Just enough to get by with a completely different client. Still, nothing new written for the magazine client whose deadline was the next day. I just could not get motivated. Besides, we started watching Cranford, which, if you have not seen it, you should get from your local library and watch with your sister or your mother or your best friend. Oh, how I love period drama. I want to marry Judy Dench. I want to live in those times--but without getting scarlet fever, or cholera or the morbid sore throat, or whatever it was that they died from back then.

Monday. Time to Get Serious. I went to the library for most of the day. I was Really Committed to getting the articles finished. And then I realized that for two of the articles, the interview subjects had not sent me the final materials they needed to so I could actually complete the articles. I finished a different article and submitted everything I had completed to date. Then spent the rest of my time at the library gazing around, wondering if I would see anyone I knew (I did) and eating a contraband protein bar. We stayed up until 1am watching the end of Cranford. Then I had to stay up until 2am finishing documents for yet another client. The final two article for the magazine client? Still not done.

Tuesday. Was beset by a hopeless feeling that frequently overcomes me when I am blocked and cannot even get the first sentence down on paper (screen). Rules of writing would dictate that I just skip the first sentence, paragraph, or whatever it is that is blocking me and come back to it later, but I feel stubborn and don't want to do this. I will not write until I have an appropriate lead. This really only leads to doom. Anyway, I'm so tired from staying up so late that I can't actually write. I don't blog as punishment to myself, because I technically probably shouldn't blog if I haven't completed my actual work. Kind of like not allowing myself to eat dessert if I haven't exercised. No work writing? Then no blogging allowed.

Wednesday. I haven't heard from my client who needs the magazine articles even though I sent her some of them and asked her a question. I'm hoping that a gigantic storm has enveloped Denver and she can't get to the office and work, which means it's no big deal that I'm so behind. I place a hopeful call. No, she is there working on the magazine. However, she is one of those very gracious people and tells me that I'm not holding her up--she is placing other articles and I can send mine whenever. I ask if Christmas is OK. There is no answer.

This morning. I crank out one of the last two stories due: How to Survive, and Even Thrive, in an Economic Crisis. This is actually a good one and I didn't fall asleep once while writing it. I sent it. I feel relieved for about 2.2 seconds. One article to go.

Now. OK, it's the moment of truth. If I could just get started, I would have this thing finished in about two hours. I'm blocked. And we're going to Target because Tara says I need different types of hair clips to control my hair, which in Ohio resembles a lion's mane. An unkempt lion. Or maybe Janis Joplin. Plus, we are eating sushi tonight and I need to give that some thought. And popcorn. We are in a snowstorm and my mother ran out of popcorn. I don't know how someone actually does that, but there you have it.

Tomorrow. Is the funeral and so the work has to be finished today. Like now. The funeral was actually supposed to be today, but the storm, and to give Ohio credit, it was an actual storm--even by Colorado standards--has shut everything, and I mean everything, down in this city. The colleges and universities are even closed. Good grief. That seems a tad extreme, but I'm enjoying the still, cozyness of this day so you won't get any complaints from me.

I am willing my brain to become unblocked. As soon as I get back from Target. And eat sushi. And eat popcorn and watch Little Women with my sisters.

Finding True Love

Me: "I want you to know that I love you. No matter what I've said before to the contrary, I do love you. You fulfill me as a woman. I feel whole again because of you. Thank you for that."

Produce Guy at City Market: "Um, OK."

Me: "It's not just that you have totally remodeled the store, but I do love that. It's that you actually have organic cucumbers that aren't rotting on the shelf. You carry red AND green kale, and that makes me want to weep. And the young coconuts? When I saw them, I was verklempt. I don't know if I can put it into words how I'm feeling."

Produce Guy at City Market: "Um, OK."

Me: "I will pine for Whole Foods no more! Your updated produce department filled with fresh, organic veggies; the new meat and seafood counter; the wider array of organic grocery items!" {GASP} "I even saw kefir in the dairy section!" {Sob}. . ."Any chance you'll add a bulk food section?"

Produce Guy at City Market: "Let's not get carried away here, lady."

Tonight I was nearly giddy at the grocery store, practically skipping through the aisles with my cart. Our local grocery store, City Market, which is owned by Kroger, used to be an embarassment of a store. Our limited selection of organic produce was limp and lifeless. We had no meat counter. The selection of organic items was pretty limited. I was sad. I tried not to shop there and I pretty much had to drive to Glenwood Springs if I wanted specific organic items. But no more! As of today, our newly remodeled store is fully stocked and ready to go. I went for the 2-for-1 organic strawberry special, and I stayed--browsing, humming and smiling at all those I could annoy around me.

When I returned home a mere one hour later, the following had occurred:


Yep, more than two new inches of snow fell in one single hour.

All told, we've got about 4 1/2 new inches of snow. Vail Pass is allegedly closed. Should make for an interesting trip to Denver tomorrow.

Finn's surgery is schedule for 12:30pm MST on Friday. He was annoyed when he heard he wouldn't get to eat breakfast at the hotel on Friday morning. When Declan expressed concern about Finn hurting during the surgery, Finn said, "Don't worry Declan. They're going to give me knock out medicine and I won't feel a thing." He is concerned, however, with how quickly he will be allowed to eat chicken nuggets after the fact. Let's all hope it's soon.

I'll update when we get home Friday evening.

This is OK for one more week. . .

. . .and just because the mountain is still open. After that, Mother Nature better move on to bigger and better things.

Tara and I drove to Park City last Thursday and spent the weekend with Erin et. al., skiing, eating, laughing, eating, watching movies, eating. I'm fully expecting that my ski pants will be a little snug if I end up going skiing today. But then again, what's new?

One for the Record Books

Now, I know we live in Colorado and everything, and that snow is a big, big, really big part of what goes on out here. If people aren't skiing or snowboarding or snowshoeing or snow mobiling or taking part is some other kind of winter sport, they're talking about it, discussing it, analyzing it, etc., ad nauseum.

But this year the Vail Valley is having record-setting snowfall, even here in our little banana belt of Eagle many feet of snow have fallen. Fortunately, because we live in a planned unit development, very little snow has been shoveled by us. Last year, on Finn's site, I printed the Snow Shoveler's Lament, which is a hilarious take on shoveling snow in snowy climates. I printed it tongue in cheek. This year I could print it for real.

Anyway, thought you might like to see some pictures of exactly how much snow we do have:

First, the garage roof. This is the east side of the roof, which has a lot less snow than the west side of the roof, but I couldn't be bothered to go outside and take a picture as I am still in my pajamas. Seeing people on roofs shoveling snow is a major occurence. Eamonn explained to me that building codes here require calculations for "snow load." I hope our builder did his calculations correctly.


















Next is Declan in our backyard. These backyard pictures were actually taken last week. . .before several additional storms came through.

This is Finn when we went sledding over at the school. The school kids had made a giant snow ball, which is now an ice ball, and partially hollowed it out. Finn thought it would make a great seat.







In other excitement this week, Eamonn's cousin, Eamon, who is a pilot for Net Jets, flew into Eagle on Tuesday and Finn and I got to go to the private part of the airport for the rich and famous and see Eamon's plane.






Finn ate his lunch in luxury and then proceeded to tell Declan all about it later, making him exceedingly jealous on purpose. Ah, siblings.


And now, I must run. Even though I had planned to go skiing by myelf today, which is always preferable because of the way I crash around on the slopes, I have now been convinced to take Declan and one of his friends with me, both of whom, I might add, are far better skiiers than I. I hope I live to tell the tale.