Cute Cousins

Well Ava and I survived another trip to Colorado Springs and really had a great time hanging out with my sisters and her cousins. And Ava didn't even scream at all on the flight back, go figure. I guess the secret is strapping her into a carseat on the plane and not letting her get out the entire flight. .....actually I think I was just lucky this time. Unfortunately we both returned sicker than we've been all year and are just getting over it. But I can say that it was really nice that the kids mananged to get along better than ever and I'll chalk that up to them simply being 8 months older than the last time they were all together. Emily gets a gold medal for being Super Aunt all week (and always) and putting up with kid overload.

Whose kid IS that?!

Dear fellow passengers of Delta Flight #3804,

I hereby express my formal and sincere apology for the continued, ear-piercing, utterly blood-curdling screaming emanating for a full 30 minutes from the small curly-haired toddler sitting in row four. I promise that I was not deliberately torturing her, but apparently sitting in a chair with the seat belt on constitutes torture to a two year old. (By the way, the contortions used as an attempted escape tactic were actually quite amazing.) Thank you for not throwing me even one single dirty look even though I know you felt like throwing us out at 20,000 feet.

Forever grateful,
Frazzled Mama

P.S. Hope you're not on the return flight next week.

Ava Can't Even Count to 30!

So it begins, the climb to the top of the hill. I've been there and I know what you're thinking; somehow, for some reason, birthdays seem less and less significant, less exciting. But nothing is more exciting than growing old with my Mare.

Happy Birthday, love!

"Success is like reaching an important birthday and finding you're exactly the same."

- Audrey Hepburn

Achtung, Baby!

There may not be 11:1 compression ratio or 5.0 liter pistons but she's got it were it counts, kid.

Our Volkswagen is known by a few names; the "good bus" by Ava, "Daisy" by Mare, and I am sure many fellow motorists, especially those stuck behind us as we struggled to get up the local canyons, have called it "...that, !#*@ hippie bus". As for me, after a lot of hard work whipping her into shape, nothing says reliable German engineering weighing in at around 2,700 lbs like "Helga."

(insert various stereotypes here)


Helga experienced quite a bit of body work over the past year. A complete roof conversion left her easily 150 pounds lighter. The interior was was completely removed and refurbished with new headliner, LED overhead lights, wood floor, carpet and stereo. My new friend Ray Brown, worked her brakes, wheel bearings and timing over. So now she is running and handling as smooth as she was 39 years ago when she was shipped to San Diego.

And although I can envision Mare rolling her eyes as I say this, her 40th birthday will be in March next year. Hey, how many 40 year-olds do you still see livin' strong, after extensive makeovers...wait, let me rephrase. 40 year old cars, I mean, of course.


Hopefully, she will see one more camping trip before the snow falls. Anyone interested?

Adrenaline Junkie By Day

This post could be considered old news but hey better late than never.

Witnessing the highly trained kinetics of the worlds best athletes in Beijing have been exciting at best. Their exhibition of strength and stamina at Olympic feats is always unbelievable. But no matter where you live, there is always a local scene, attempting similar feats, that are far more inspiring than the genetic, best-of seen in HD on the TV.

For example, Ava and I witnessed first hand a different side of Mama. A side that hides behind a kind and loving face. A side that has been chiseled to a state of readiness thanks to months of high-intensity training. A side that exploded into action during the Jordanelle Triathlon. A side that may make a man question his own masculine integrity.

Though we didn't follow Mare on all her events, I did position Ava at the transition station and the finish line. These viewpoints were strategic, I thought, in cheering her on and to boost morale, which they were, but by doing so I never thought I would expose Ava to scenes that by film standards could be considered PG-13. Broken, battered bodies, bleeding and suffering passed by us by the dozens. Several met their accidental tragedy mere feet from Ava's front row seat! Unfazed, she would mutter the occasional and indifferent "ooooh, bike fall down", or "run FASTER" as she nonchalantly laid further back in her stroller and sipped her juice.

Great, I thought, as visions of a mother-daughter adrenaline junkie team, leaving dad in the dust, raced through my mind. I guess I better get my running shoes on.

Fantastic job, Babe!

I am a Triathlete

Jordanelle Sprint Triathlon, August 23, 2008

Training miles spent on the bike since April: 324
Training hours spent in the pool since February: about 42
Days spent sick directly preceding race day: 7
Doses of Zicam taken in a desperate attempt to get well: at least 30
Large fleshy things encountered in the water determined not to be human: 1
Kicks perpetrated upon my person in the water: about 10
Kicks to the ribs sufficient to knock the air out: 1
Proportion of the swim that I actually swam front crawl: ½
Change in confidence while swimming in a wetsuit versus without: +50%
Lifeboats dispatched for my assistance: 0
Number of serious bike wipeouts witnessed firsthand: 2
Increase in mph pace during bike race versus training sessions: 2
Decrease in mph pace during foot race versus training sessions: 0.85
Ounces of water I drank after race with no pee to show for it: 136
Hours spent in the pool since race day: 0

I have, of course, been meaning to write about the event for which so much of my time and energy have been sucked away. I decided that writing a blog is similar to keeping a scrapbook. I get so behind in documenting things that I avoid doing it because of the pile of things left unsaid and the escalating guilt. But I really do want to talk about my race so here I am.

The night before the race Ava slept over at Grandma’s and I cried at the thought of spending my first night ever away from her. Jon and I drove up into the mountains just east of Jordanelle and slept in the back of the VW bus. Well actually I just lay in my sleeping bag in the back of the bus all night. But at least I got to the race on time, leisurely set up my gear, and had plenty of time to sit and enjoy the effects of my stomach turning flips.

Race day was beautiful, sunny, and not too hot. The water temp was around 60 degrees and the swim felt like one big collective thrashing. After exiting the water and feeling like I was just beaten with a club, getting on the bike was like relaxing in a lazy boy. The bike route was absolutely beautiful and I breezed through the 14 miles. By the time I started running, I had nothing left to give due to being sick all week but shuffled through and finished in a respectable timeframe. I know if I had been feeling strong and well at the start I could’ve raced much faster but honestly I was just happy to be there taking part. This race was only the beginning.

Thanks to Jon, Mom, and my sisters for willingly taking Ava for many of my training sessions. Thanks to Ava for making a simple bargain with me: enduring training runs in the stroller and yelling out “faster, mama!” in exchange for a simple cup of M&Ms. And thanks to you who simply cared and supported my goal; for your phone calls, emails, and shouts from the sidelines.

Jackson Hole 2008

We spent the last week in July in Jackson, Wyoming for the annual Lauder family vacation. In terms of our own personal agenda, this was the laziest vacation in our history. We always plan to do some camping or set out to hike some grandiose trail for a few days on our own. Even the last couple of years when Ava was still tiny we managed to hike far up into the Tetons and explore some Yellowstone backcountry. This year? I think Jon and I are cumulatively just worn out. The thought of being up half the night with Ava because she won’t sleep anywhere but her own bed and then having to deal with her grumpiness all day was enough to keep us firmly grounded at the condo with the rest of the family. I fear our survival instinct is growing stronger than our need for adventure….ugh, we’re becoming old fuddy-duddies.

Happily, Ava slept much better than anticipated (which doesn’t really say much considering I expected absolute insomnia hell) and I didn’t even have to share my bed with the little wiggler. Every night she kicked around in her Pack-n-Play with the whole extra inch it gave around her height. But at least she slept and only woke up crying once or twice the whole week. Huzzah!

The most blissful moments of the trip for me were spent on my 32 mile road bike trek. I was only going to go out for about an hour and headed out behind town and north to Teton Village. But when I arrived there in no time at all and saw the entrance to Teton NP right there, I decided to keep going, probably against my better judgment since I had no ID, no wallet, no tools, and no food. I had nothing with me but a couple of water bottles. The woman at the entrance station graciously let me enter for free and about 10 seconds after that (cover your ears, Jeffrey) I began wondering how my super-duper speedy lightweight road bike would perform on a rocky, holey dirt road. Looking back, I realize just how lucky I was to escape a flat tire or a dropped chain and having to walk the 15 miles back to town. So the ride was sketchy and slow there for a bit, but boy, was it gorgeous! There’s something about the Teton Valley landscape that just absolutely feels like home to me. Every rock and flower feels familiar. I sped into Moose, then headed south along the main park highway and just managed to avoid being flattened by some gargantuan motorhome.

That Saturday night all the Teerlinks attended the Jackson Rodeo. Ava just couldn’t get over the sight of the carnival rides on the other side of the arena and pitched a fit so I was able to watch all of 10 minutes of the rodeo before taking her out to the petting zoo and home to bed. But I think overall everyone else enjoyed it.

As tradition holds, everyone in the family gathers for an afternoon at String Lake. We eat lunch, paddle in the canoes, catch frogs, and jump off rocks. I bought Ava a little blowup floatie shaped like a spaceship and was rewarded with a big, beautiful perma-grin on her shining face. But mostly she just loves to throw rocks in the water and wade around in her Tevas so I’ve learned that toys are just baggage when there’s splashing to be done. We took our turn in the Keowee and Ava even let Jon paddle for a bit.

One afternoon we took a stroll on our own to Phelps lake and Ava showed her true hiking colors. She was absolutely a trooper and hiked most of the way there on her own. Her little legs got tired on the way back so she rode on Jon's shoulders and made up for it by declaring that he must jump! off every rock in the trail.

Other trip highlights included the traditional hike to Hidden "Waterfalldown" and the boat ride back across Jenny Lake and a visit to Rockefeller center. Pretty low key, lazy vacation.

All in all, a MUCH better vacation than last year's Jackson trip simply because we all felt happier. We finally learned to lower our standards. Maybe we'll get braver and actually try camping again someday.

Just kick that boatman in the teeth

Ava often likes to play with our jar of spare change; dumping it all out, pointing out the image of "Jesus" on the face of the pennies, and slotting it into her little piggy bank. One afternoon I left the room as she was counting her money and returned a few moments later. This is the sight I encountered...



I know she asks for black cereal in the morning and is fascinated with skeletons, but I had no idea she was this morbid.

On Drowning and Muddling

I’m innocently reading my Harper’s magazine the other day and I come across this little excerpt from an article about a couple who search for drowning victims.

“Drowning, it turns out, is not difficult. Once someone falls overboard, especially if the water is cold, he gasps for air, the way one gasps when a shower runs suddenly cold. He inhales water, then coughs and inhales more water. From Dr. Jeff Kalina, at the Methodist Hospital in Houston, I know that one inhaled breath is sufficient to cause drowning. The integrity of the small pockets in the lungs through which oxygen is absorbed depends on a coating called surfactant. When water dissolves the surfactant, the pockets collapse, and oxygen can no longer be absorbed.
Drowning can also be initiated by a response called laryngospasm. When the larynx detects water entering the lungs, it closes, leaving a swimmer unable to breathe. Two tablespoons of water could stimulate laryngospasm.”

ACK! Two tablespoons! I’m pretty sure there’s more water than that in Jordanelle Reservoir. I promise you, I do not search out this information but apparently it’s still finding its way into my consciousness.

On a related note, my training has been going really well the last month. I’ve actually made the time to train six days a week and feel like I’m slowly getting stronger, especially in the pool. And then WHAM, I got sick last week: Intestinal distress and a fever and chills and all. Was this because I’ve been training too much? Because my diet hasn’t been absolutely sugar and junk free? I can’t begin to tell you how frustrated I am right now. So last week I only got in two workouts and this week so far at least I got onto the bike and into the pool. But I feel really tired and my arms and legs fell like lead. At least I've learned my lesson (knock on wood) about my diet. Help me, internet world! How can I be ready for this race and not kill myself in the process?

Nice Mane, Dude

Last Saturday we attended the Venture Outdoors Festival in Canyon Rim Park. Among the vendor booths, live music, and kiddie games, there were some people demonstrating how to ride a mountain board down a grassy hill and over a pink wooden ramp. Ava was enchanted and stopped to watch for several minutes. As we were sitting there, she pointed to a guy standing near us with a hairdo similar to this....

....and exclaimed "Horsey!" I could definitely identify with that viewpoint. I laughed and wished that he had heard her creative interpretation of his carefully constructed social statement. Then the next morning as we were playing with her barn, Ava's reality suddenly struck home with me. She was more right than I imagined.....

NOW it feels like Summer

A Glimpse of the Desert

After a camping trip with friends was cancelled last week, we decided we’d still take a trip of our own. Jon took Friday through Tuesday off of work and we headed out the door with the car packed by noon on Saturday. We drove down through Torrey and Capitol Reef NP and found a dispersed camping site all to ourselves a couple of miles east of the Park border. From the moment we stepped out of the car, Ava was running her hands through the sand; I just knew bringing a bucket and shovel was a good idea.















We absolutely love the Fruita campground but thought that we needed to have some space far from others just in case Ava put up a stink around bedtime. Whoever coined the term “parental instinct” absolutely gets it. Boy, that girl sure did wail. I did finally coax her to relax and go to sleep but she woke again in the middle of the night and for several hours we catered to her every whim- giving her light sticks, snacks, drinks, and a bed to lie between us. Finally she passed out again but only on Jon’s shoulder and the rest of the night was rough for him.

The next morning, Ava and I got up for breakfast (not such a happy camper for that as you can see) and then drove back into the Park to let Daddy sleep for a bit. We took a walk to see some petroglyphs but mostly ended up checking out the plethora of tent caterpillars that fall like rain out of the trees this time of year. A caterpillar fell onto the front of her shirt and she let out the funniest squeal of both delight and disgust and did a little wiggly dance until I got it off.

Later that day we took a miniature hike with Ava in the pack but she didn’t want to have much to do with that, either. So we headed back and of course she fell asleep right as we approached the car. Not about to disturb her, we let her sleep in the pack in the front seat of the car.

We actually had a great time the rest of the day, letting Ava play in the water and mud in the river, having homemade pie at the Pioneer House, and stopping for a burger and ice on the way back to camp.








However, when it was time for bed, Ava wasn’t about to have any of that nonsense again. She wouldn’t even go near the tent without a fight, let alone get into her crib. We both tried laying with her and anything else we could think of but since she was near hysterics and we’d just have to pack up in the morning after another sleepless night, we cried uncle. This wasn’t the first time we’ve driven home from camping in the middle of the night- at least this time it was still light while we broke camp. We made it home at 2 a.m., slept late that morning and had the rest of a fun vacation at home. We spent a great day at the park flying a kite, eating lunch, and fooling around. Looks like our family camping days will be more of a challenge than we feared, but call us crazy, we haven’t given up yet.

I've always been very talented

ambigaguous (am-bi-gag’-yu-wus) adj. Able to choke on pool water regardless of which side you are breathing on

The Swell Season

Friday afternoon I got a call from Jon saying, “Get ready for a fun night… It’s a surprise…” He came home with two tickets to a concert at The Depot with The Swell Season; a concert that almost immediately sold out months ago. But leave it to Jon to make the right connections at just the right time and come up with tickets the day of.


Anyway, I won’t mince words… hands down the BEST concert I have EVER heard. How can you not love Glen Hansard, a man who sings with his soul on fire, a man who still plays his first guitar, into the front of which he has passionately worn giant holes. And Marketa Irglova was subtly amazing. The music was utterly transcendent and I left with my soul on fire.

The Perfect Morning

Step 1: Eat a bowl of Cocoa Roos and leave the residue on your face to taste later.

Step 2: Take off all your clothes (including your diaper).

Step 3: Put on mittens and Crocs shoes.

Step 4: Relax on the couch while watching a Winnie-the-Pooh show.

Can you think of a better way to start the day?

To Do List

Life long "wish-lists" (aka. affluenza side-effects) for me are over-rated. I enjoy a pretty wish full-filled life as it is. Smart and sexy wife. A beautiful and witty daughter. And being lucky enough to have not become house-poor in the current housing down-turn etc., are just a few rarities I now enjoy. But, I ran across this video clip and have decided that there may be a few extra things out there I would like to witness with my family and friends.

I remember in the early 80's, the infrequent coverage of televised space shuttle launches made it a special event. My brothers would watch the launch before we went to school and
the video excellently portrays why we were intranced.

So, therefore I add a pre-dawn shuttle launch to my obligatory "wish-list"

But I'm not hurting anyone but myself....

I came across this article, thanks to a link on Marry’s blog, and it’s stayed with me ever since so I decided to share an excerpt with you. Viewing our consumer-based culture through the lens of addiction hits the nail right on the head. What better way to celebrate Earth Day than to boil our environmental situation down to its root cause.

Industrial civilization -- and its end product, consumerism -- has disconnected us from nature, the cycle of life, our communities, our families and, ultimately, ourselves. This unnatural, inorganic, materialistic way of living, coupled with a marked decline in society's moral and ethical standards -- what the French call anomie -- has created a kind of pathology that produces pain and emptiness, for which addictive behavior becomes the primary symptom and consumption the preferred drug of choice.
What most of us experience when it comes to addiction," says Erickson, "is a pattern of continually seeking more of what it is we don't really want and, therefore, never being fully satisfied. And as long as we are never satisfied, we continue to seek more, while our real needs are never being met."
“Addiction in one form or another characterizes every aspect of industrial society,” wrote the social philosopher Morris Berman, and dependence on substances or corporeal pleasures is no different from dependence on "prestige, career achievement, world influence, wealth, the need to build more ingenious bombs or the need to exercise control over everything."
“The patterns of behavior endemic to consumer society are so much more dangerous than substance abuse, because they are perpetuating a culture that is literally eating itself out of house and home.”

We can all go out and buy hybrid cars and take re-usable bags to the grocery store and I applaud every green effort. Yet even the "greening" of products and practices all around the world is coming close to propaganda in itself. To truly solve environmental problems, we must stage a cultural intervention, get to the root of the issues, and recognize that virtually everything must change. Overwhelming is an understatement. But we won't care for the Earth until we learn to care for ourselves and each other.

So here's where you start. Spend your daily energies connecting with yourself, your family, your community, and the place you live. If you’re a parent, it is absolutely paramount that you take your kids outside to play. Teach them how to connect with who they are and how great it is to truly connect with another person. I promise that they will show you how to embrace the beauty in your own backyard.

Earth Day Purism-ism

Having a few moments before the day began, I wandered the web reading as much Earth-Day related material as possible. I have come to the conclusion that ultimately, I believe many more people are catching on and starting to celebrate environmentalism in their own ways. Which is great. Overall, at this point, I think that as long as more people understand that ecological activism is much more than a radical, "Tree-hugger" movement, practiced only by dread-locked hippies, we all win.

Practicing good stewardship over our natural resources, in order to protect the environment for our children is the ultimate in utilitarian ethics. Anyone, who loves to experience the serene beauty nature has to provide, is by definition, an environmentalist. If you love watching wild animals in Yellowstone, or recreating in Grand Teton National Park, and even enjoy a simple day in the nearest forest, you are environmentalist. If you advocate open or park space in your neighborhood, you are an environmentalist. If, in the city where you live, your favorite street just happens to be richly tree-lined, you have an innate connection with our natural world, and therefore, I believe we all have an innate connection with the land and should take part in trying to protect it.

What is most interesting, is to question why are more and more people taking a part in greening their lives. Ultimately, it may be due to mainstream media tracking the current trends of pop-culture. I never pursue pop-culture news, but have noticed a rise in reports of stars who are greening their lives in some way or another. Even Paris Hilton drives a hybrid although its a Yukon that gets only 20 or so miles per gallon. Leonardo Dicaprio, after producing the movie "The 11th Hour" is getting more publicity for his environmental efforts. Overall, since we as Americans are more intune with mainstream media, this Eco-Pop movement, however minimal their actions may be, is being noticed as socially acceptable form of lifestyle.

But, no matter the lifestyle, whether it be of the dirty, desert-rat hippie who will never deviate from his purist environmetal ideal, or the multi-million dollar pop-star who is trying to assert themselves by publicly deviating from current unsustainable trends, any attempt to change our current reliance on unsustainable means will ultimately save the earth.

P.S. Turn off your lights!

Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes… Well, more like head, elbow, knees and knees and a bunch of bruises

So, how is my triathlon training going, you ask? Ugh, life just seems to get in the way. Jon had to spend four days in Moab for a work conference at the end of March so before he left I thought I’d get in as many workouts as I could. Well, I did, including a 5:45 a.m. spinning class after a hard run the previous evening and sleeping a total of two hours that night. Then I was at the pool at 6 a.m. the next morning still very sleep deprived. Needless to say, it was a bit much on my body and I ended up fighting off a cold and feeling like complete crap for almost a week later. And then the crappiness culminated in the worst migraine I’ve suffered in the past two years, including the requisite puking. Anyway, onward and upward since then.… well mostly.

I’ve also been suffering severe knee pain during my runs for the past few months and finally decided I should get it checked out. In the past when my knees started to hurt, I knew it was time for a new pair of running shoes. But Jon bought me a great new pair for Christmas and the pain still wasn’t going away. I stereotypically followed the pattern that most other injured runners do: 1. Ignore the injury and run through it, 2. Quit running for a while and pray that it will go away, 3. Attempt self-treatment, then 4. Seek medical help. So here I am, almost finished with three weeks of physical therapy for patella-femoral syndrome, which is really just a polite way to say that my genetically defective knees, plus an imbalance in quad strength versus cardiovascular strength, equals one gimpy runner. I always knew this before but now I live religiously by it… strength, flexibility, and cross-training and lots and lots of ice.

Since I’ve had to take my knees out of the action during therapy I have been swimming with a floater between my legs and pulling with just my upper body. I was actually fine with this because I could focus more on my stroke for a while. But being the klutz I am, I wasn’t used to how off-balance I felt at the end of the lap and I smacked my elbow into the concrete… yup, it’s still sore a couple weeks later.

THEN, last week I got the green light to do some biking. So I hungrily installed my new clipless pedals, which Jon gave me for our anniversary, onto my freshly-tuned bike and slipped into the accompanying shiny bike shoes. Of course I knew I needed to practice clipping in and out so I did a few turns on the lawn and then cautiously headed down the street with only one foot clipped in. I slowed down to practice clipping that foot out but the other foot had stealthily clipped in. So yes, I took the obligatory “Buck Bybee” tumble into the pavement with the bike still attached to my body. Everyone has to do it once while learning to clip out, so my turn’s done now, right? RIGHT?? At least I didn’t land on my knee.

Despite all this, I actually am getting in some good training time and really learning (maybe the hard way) how to balance everything. But apparently I need all the help I can get.

EARTH DAY!!

Earth Day is April 22nd! Celebrate and go buy a CFL light bulb, ride the bus instead of driving, use no lighting during the daylight hours and visit these sites!

www.18seconds.org

www.rustletheleaf.com

www.globalcool.org

www.energystar.gov

VW Update

Well, contrary to what my contributions to our little blog site may reflect, I have had time here and there to work a bit on our Volkswagen Westfalia. Even though I haven't documented any progress,“Daisy” has seen quite a transformation since last year.

Once upon a time, about September of last year, Marianne started receiving some rather inquisitive remarks during her normal Sunday meetings. The good sisters were referring to the seemingly growing fleet of Volkswagen buses in our driveway. This due to my acquiring yet another VW bus, a 1968 VW from a local property owner who was ready to send it to the junkyard and eternal demise. Ultimately this find was a godsend, since I planned to remove the rather bulbous fiberglass topper on Daisy, and replace it with a closer to original canvas pop-top, which this donor bus had, and the ethic of keeping vintage cars form decaying in a junk pile is a cause I contribute to. Consequently, I suckered my brother Jeff into helping me tow the motor-less donor, speckled with years of unsightly bird art, from its lowly driveway spot to its new spot, in our lowly driveway. It was, to say the least, not an improvement to the neighborhood’s property values.

During its time in our driveway, the operation of surgically removing essential parts began and it was time consuming yet fun. But, when the time came to use my angle grinder to cut into the pristine 30 year old, vintage sheet metal, I sweated every detail. This critical piece of metal was pivotal in the restoration of Daisy’s pop-top roof and I have been called many things, but professional Auto-Body Technician was not one of them. Therefore, I scoured old photos of VW buses to estimate the location of my cuts. I measured twice, three, even four times, only to back off as I second-guessed myself. I even ventured onto a couple of Volkswagen-only websites to search their discussion forums for any sign that maybe another, out-of-his mind sucker had planned, conquered and documented this territory. No such luck, I was on my own. In fact several people from the VW purist end of the spectrum laid into me, heckling what I was proposing as an abomination to the VW scene.

Whatever. Feeling as though I have to sail, rather than drive, my VW down the freeway with that huge piece of fiberglass above me is an abomination to my scene.

Anyhoo, I took a deep breath and sliced out a rectangular piece in a dimension I thought should fit Daisy. Afterward, as I placed the metal aside and I was pleased with what else I had scavenged from the donor bus, I pryed the white bubble-top off of Daisy's roof and fitted it to the donor bus. What I didn't anticipate was encountering extensive rust around the rim of Daisy’s roof. This was a problem. One that I wasn’t happy with but was true to the roller-coaster of highs and lows of the car restoration experience.

After the dust settled, the neighborhood heaved a sigh of relief as I had the donor towed away as part of an agreement with another local VW nut, in exchange for the welding and rust repair I needed. Which pretty much brings me current. Next will I post details of the pop-top install and removal of all the interior furniture, cabinets and paneling in order to sound deaden, insulate and lay new carpet and wood floor.

Trip to Colorado Springs

During the week of Valentine’s Day, Ava and my mom and I flew to Colorado Springs to visit my sister, Christina, and her house full of boyness. (Jon had to be in Wendover for a conference during the same time so he didn’t get too lonely.) It also happened to be Christina’s birthday while we were there.

Ava generally enjoyed the flight over, except for the part where the doors were shut and the plane was aloft. She kept crying and saying “Out” and pointing for the door. I’m sure it didn’t help that we were on a commuter jet, making things feel even more enclosed, and also the fact that it was past her bedtime. Heck, we survived, and without the bonus of rotten tomato smears from other passengers. The flight back actually went much more smoothly, probably owing to the fact that she was able to sit in her own seat and put M&Ms in the little cup thingy on the tray table.

Anyway, I think Ava and I single handedly managed to throw the Gleason household into even MORE chaos during our stay. Clayton (age 4-nearly 5) is such a sweet boy and absolutely adores Ava. He calls her his little A-V-A. He always wanted to play with her and could hardly resist constantly hugging her, much to Ava’s chagrin. In this era of her life, Little Ava’s personality contains a chunk that inexplicably causes her to run and scream at the approach of any other child, regardless of whether that child is ignoring her or smothering her with affection. I have seen her delightedly run up to gigantic furry dogs and then come screaming back to me when she realizes that the dog is accompanying another kid on his walk. Seriously, Ava. Her reaction to her other cousin, Samuel (age 18 months), was similar. Sammy could really care less about playing with her, but they are close enough in age that they like the same toys. Ava never gets aggressive, takes toys from others, or pushes kids away; she just grips her toy with desperation and runs in terror. So you can imagine the scene every time Sammy showed his cute smiling face.

However, once the kids were adequately corralled, we adults managed to enjoy each other’s company. We made an aborted trip to Outback Steakhouse for Christina’s birthday dinner; I’m sure we made the other diners’ experience more authentic to the Australian outback than they would have preferred. But hey, we tried, and the meat was just as tasty back at the Gleason kitchen table. We all exchanged Valentine’s gifts and had a blast doorbell ditching each other. We had lunch out one day and Clayton, Ava, and Grandma painted some lovely garden rocks.

The weather was nice enough one afternoon that we even made a trip to the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo. The highlight of this zoo is the giraffe habitat, where an elevated boardwalk allows you to wander through at giraffe eye level. The kids had a blast feeding them crackers, never mind their long purple tongues. We counted at least 15 giraffes, including several babies. There was also a budgie display, meerkats, tigers, and Ava took her first ride on a merry-go-round.

So all in all, really a great trip for us, thanks to Christina and Ross for being so accommodating and just so friggin’ awesome.

Eight Stinkin' Years

Today is our eight year wedding anniversary. Congratulations to Jon for putting up with all my crap for this long. And me too for putting up with his crap, I guess, although I've always had strong suspicions that the scales are tipped far in my favor on that one. Seriously, I couldn't ask for a more selfless, fun, brilliant, sweet, sexy husband. And as it turns out he's not a bad daddy, either. The last eight years have been full of laughter, adventure, many more good days than bad, and more lovin' than I could possibly deserve. I love you too, Jon.

My very own sweet Jonny, to whom all the cheesy cliches apply and none does justice. I'd marry you again in a heartbeat.

We're In!

This morning I officially registered for the Jordanelle Sprint Triathlon! There's nothing like a deadline to get the motivational juices flowing. So if you want to see me drown in Jordanelle Reservoir come on up the morning of August 23, 2008.

Now I just have to stop eating cookies for lunch.

The Tip the Coach Forgot

For my triathlon training plans, I signed up for a triathlete swimming clinic. The clinic is 6 sessions, taught every other saturday morning by a private swim coach with 30 years experience. I took swim lessons as a kid but have never had much interest in swimming. Consequently, I could basically keep myself afloat but didn't even know how to swim a proper lap. Ergo, part of the challenge appeal of competing in a triathlon. Luckily, most of the people in the clinic are in my same boat (har, har); they are athletic and therefore familiar with pushing their bodies' limits but swimming is just an anomaly. So far the clinic's been really great and I feel even more confident after the first two sessions than I thought possible.

After the last session, I came home and jotted down some of the drills and pointers the coach told me to work on and left the notebook out on the table. A few days later I dug it out to review and found some advice my coach had neglected to share...

Three Fabulous Snow Bunnies

Saturday was my first day out skiing this season, thanks to the generosity of one sweet Marry Stewart. And boy, you couldn't ask for a more perfect day: crisp mountain air, radiant sunshine, fluffy powder, and most of all the giggles and isolated time with two of the best women in existence.

I was 20 before I even learned how to ski and never really got very good. During seasons that I skied a lot I comfortably negotiated most blue runs. But the last few years I've only gotten out once per season and every time it practically felt like starting over. By the end of the day I was starting to get my groove back. Maggie hadn't skied at all in over 12 years and yet she was like a beauty queen making her turns. And Marry rips it up at least once a week and has her "bellybutton technique" down pat. So thanks to Maggie and Marry for putting up with my pokey-ness, tolerating a lot of green runs, and making me smile for an entire day- something else I haven't done in a while.

House of the Bizarre

Wednesday night…. Jon and I are asleep in bed, and have been for a couple of hours, when suddenly, about a quarter after midnight, loud music is blasting from the kitchen. We bolt up, look at each other and say, “What is THAT?!” I run into the kitchen where my I had left my iPod on the countertop hooked up to some small, portable speakers. Sure enough, Moby is rocking out. So I turn it off and get back into bed more than slightly disturbed. For those of you versed in the dynamics of iPods, when you power it up and hit the select button it automatically selects the last choices that you made. My iPod was playing my running playlist, the first song of which is Moby. That was NOT the last thing I had listened to earlier in the day, nor was it automatically selected when I powered it up later that morning. (Cue creepy music….which I guess for me is now Moby, Play)

In other weird goings-on… For the last few days I have noticed that every time Ava sees a depiction of a Koala, she makes the sign for “fish.” Am I missing something? Are the planets all out of whack?

Ramble On

Wow, so where the heck have we been? Well, obviously not blogging but nowhere else to be exact. Our computer went on the fritz around Thanksgiving and I got tired of wrestling the Internet connection just to check my email so that's probably the main reason I haven't written. And between preparing for and recovering from the holidays, there was sickness and rivers of snot for Jon and Ava and general emotional instability on my part. But voila, now here we are, all better.

So life is good and I’m looking forward to another adventurous and challenging year ahead. Notwithstanding the more substantive realities of our life and the lives of those we care about (which no one ever blogs about anyway), here’s a rundown of the trivialities bouncing around in my own personal bubble.

Enjoying: a brand new HP computer (hence my renewed presence here) and accompanying new desk. This desk is gargantuan, especially in our tiny bedroom, but it’s especially terrific for card making. Now I don’t have to mess up the dining table with all my scraps of paper. Segue to the new dining set… we found a dining table at a garage sale back in the fall in pretty good condition and finally finished staining the gorgeous chairs I found last spring, completing our dining room just in time for Christmas. According to Jon, we now actually have some of our own adult furniture.

Craving: some imaginative free time to create more cards. I have sadly left my etsy shop in the dust the past six weeks and my right brain is getting itchy.

Savoring: the sweet, extreme soreness stemming from striving for the unattainable in Ashtanga class. Lap up the nectar of a difficult workout and feel its life-force trickle into your veins.

Cracking up: listening to Ava read the book “Go, Dog. Go!” to herself. I get little giggle bubbles in my belly hearing her talk lately and marvel at her sudden ability to label any letter or color she sees. She’s a pro at talking on the phone (as long as there’s no one on the other end) and I dare you to ask her what a rooster says while keeping a straight face.

Making: delectable dolmas for this weekend’s Return of the Sun party at the Stewart’s. Ooh, my mouth waters at the thought of all that Mediterranean food and good company.

Reading: “Four Quarters of Light” by Brian Keenan. I’ll write more on this later when I finish the book but it’s about an Alaskan journey and so far captivating and refreshingly candid, rather than deceptively romantic as so many Alaskan tales are.

Plotting: a resourceful approach to continue my training for a sprint triathlon this fall. There, I guess now that I’ve stated my goal publicly I must be committed. Given Jon’s busy (and sometimes unpredictable) work schedule and Ava’s particular temperament, it’s hard to find time to properly train. Ava is increasingly intolerant of hanging out at the gym’s daycare and I discovered the hard way that it’s just too frigid outside for her to ride in the backpack for long. Luckily, our super-duper jogging stroller has a plastic bubble to help keep her comfortable on runs, I have a really supportive Mom who sits in for some of my evening workouts, and my husband is ever indulgent of all my wishes.

Watching: Oh yeah, and Jon and I got out of the house over the weekend to see Juno at the movies. Definitely worth the 8 bucks. If you liked Little Miss Sunshine, you'll love this.

Well, there’s 597 words to fill you up if you’ve been suffering TerraRambler drought.