Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Plant



















After a while, you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much
so you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
                              -Veronica Shoffstall

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Winter Park

Timesboy, Winter Park Reservoir

Superteen and Cupcake, Winter Park Reservoir

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Log In Your Eye

Soooo, we are having some growing pains.

Superteen got completely dumped by a best friend she has had since kindergarten. In a pretty brutal way. The girl asked if Superteen believed in God. Superteen told the truth, her truth at this moment.

No.

No, she does not. She was honest, even though it was hard and obviously not the 'right' answer.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Sunday, July 22, 2012

The beet goes on.

Tell me you don't want a salad right this second... I dare you.

Superteen said my shadow ruined an otherwise artistically perfect shot, but I think the beautiful veggies overshadow my shadow. So there. 

I had a hand in growing those gorgeous greens. Okay, maybe a pinky. I follow directions and sing (softly) to them as I water and gaze at their beauty, but Wendy and Carol deserve the credit for 99% of the magic. Anyhoo, we have fennel and watercress. Tomatoes and chile peppers. Squash and beets. The list goes on....

Coup on Etsy- check out her tees!

And I don't know why my greens give me the urge to show you my newest tee-shirt order, but they do. And it is my bloggy universe, so I can.

Peace and beets and greens, XOXOXO



Saturday, July 21, 2012

Rolling, rolling, rolling...

Chokecherries on trail. Yum.

As cumbersome as it is, I have started taking my phone with me when I run. I see entirely too much wonderfulness on my runs and want to share. I have seen snakes, families of skunks, a bear, an almost nekkid man running a donkey on a leash, and more. I realize these chokecherries pale in comparison but still a sight to behold, yes?

Timesboy and I went for a bike ride this morning, instead of my run. I am aware of several things after said ride. One, the kid looks like Kermit the Frog on his bike when his legs are frantically pumping up and down.

Need I say more???

Two, he has no idea what I am talking about when I call him Kermie as we ride.

Three, riding bikes uses entirely different muscles and is a lot harder on your arse than running. My running shorts apparently don't have the padding necessary to prevent pain, nor does said arse. Must purchase cycling shorts for both their protective qualities and for their sheer hotness. *SNORT*

Four, it is hard not to smile while riding a bike. Especially a hot pink one. Running is a type of masochistic self-flagellation. Bike riding is getting in touch with your inner eight-year-old. Running is overcoming pain and obstacles and powering through. Riding bikes (in the manner that we do :-)) is pure WHEEEEEEE.

Five, I will probably never see the half-nekkid man running his donkey on a leash again, but if I do, you will be the first to know. Scout's honor.


Peace and love and chokecherry jam and all of the good stuff!





Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Happy Wednesday!

Sante Fe Trail, my home away from home...

I am not typically a narcissist, but do you see those technicolor rainbows? Those dark, brooding clouds that promise a torrential downpour?

Ummmm, yeah, I wore white yesterday. Pretty sure that is why we got the rain. ALL of the rain. I may run and wash my car later also. So, a pre-emptive "My pleasure and you are welcome."

Oh, and that anti-entropy thing? Man, does life get in the way of being industrious and neat and organized. I am getting right on that. Tomorrow. Seriously.



Sunday, July 15, 2012

Anti-entropy Time

According to Oxford Dictionary, entropy is defined as a gradual decline into disorder.

C has always designated October as Anti-Entropy Month. Which is code for, he gets serious shit done. Windows, paint, floors, you get the picture.

I don't think I am ready for thirty days of hard industrious efficiency, but I am up for a week.

This week, I am going to be efficient and industrious. I am going to be the Queen of Anti-entropy. 

Garage- for someone who hovers around the edges of OCD (My closet is organized according to color and mini-organized from there by sleeveless, short sleeve, long sleeve, and sweaters- capisce?), my garage is horrific. I unpacked everything possible in a week, and then shoved holidays, crafts, books, and etcetera in the garage. I then closed the door, turned the light out, and did not look at it for, ummm, four months.

Entry way- I am going to change out the flooring. By myself. Seriously. A neighbor's dog took it upon himself to start marking the door and it has managed to seep in underneath the flooring. Serious stench that cannot be covered up. Not even if I own stock in Scentsy or Yankee. SO I will be pulling up the old floor, cleaning, covering with KILZ, and replacing with shiny new.

Office area- I need to carve out a spot for work, even just a corner. And again, with the OCD-ness, if it is not charming, I won't work there.

Car- tags. Eeek.

I shall post pictures as proof. Except for the car tags, because pics of the DMV are less than enthralling. Kinda like watching gas grow. In slow-mo.


Okay, I think that is enough ambitiousness for now. Whew...


Wednesday, July 11, 2012

One step.

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step."
                                                     -Buddhist saying

Never truer than when you are going to run eight or nine miles after a long and lazy hiatus.

Those first steps, I think about all of the things that I would rather be doing. Drinking a glass of Malbec. Smearing brie over crackers and enjoying the warm evening with friends. Sitting in an air conditioned theater watching explosions and excitement. Curling up with my latest read. Doing trailwork with friends- check out http://fomp.org for a great hands-on 'be the change you want to see' group that regularly improves our trails.

And yet, I continue. One foot in front of the other. One step. And then another. I think of the Buddhist saying as I throw an inner "I don't wanna" tantrum. This bratty reluctance goes on for several hundred feet and then I start to find my groove. My songs kick in, my breathing regulates and my muscles start to melt into the run. I start noticing all of my little markers on the trail that tell me exactly where I am. There is the bent tree with the bark stripped off by a bear. A few hundred feet further is the perfect view of Elephant Rock through a frame of pines. A few hundred feet further lies a discarded water bottle top half-buried in the trail dirt. I always mean to grab it, as it is technically trash, but it has become something of the landscape...

Courtesy of The Vaile Museum


I notice all of these little things and eight miles glides by. Okay, honestly, the first seven and a half miles glides by. The last mile or so, I am painfully aware of my IT band and the price I will pay for NOT running faithfully the last couple of weeks.

Kinda like life when I start to really think about it. One step at a time. Even when it aches.


Friday, July 6, 2012

Proof in the Pudding. Filling.

Donut Cake. A thing of Beauty...

Get up at the arse crack of dawn to both run and to buy donuts aplenty for a birthday cake of sorts. (Don't be all judgey, the kid likes donuts and I don't have white sugar or butter in my house.) We make a masterpiece of donuts and fritters and frosting and candles and bask in its glow... However, the birthday donut aficionado is still snoring away, so life goes on.

I walk by the Donut Masterpiece and notice a sprinkles donut is gone. I assume it is a payment for getting up at the crack of dawn and helping me create such a maaahvelous birthday breakfast. Rude, but, whatever...

Mysterious bites...

I saunter into the kitchen to get more coffee and I see. This. A chocolate glazed donut with several hasty, messy bites take out of one side. A sprinkled payment donut, I can live with. But bites out of the actual masterpiece? Too. Much. I walk down the stairs and tell the monkeys to knock it off and quit eating the Masterpiece.

I get blank stares and then indignation. Denials, to the point that I ask, "If you guys aren't eating the Masterpiece, who is?!"

Behold, the proof. It's not in the pudding but it is in the chocolate icing. And possibly the boston cream filling. Mehhhh.

Terrier Teethmarks

Chock full of guilt. And apple fritter. And sprinkles.



Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Shufflin'

Bad Bad bad wine...

The fire is seventy percent contained, the smoke is dissipating, and my excuses to not run are also disappearing. Dragged my arse out of bed this morning and slogged my way through seven miles.

This is the first morning since before the fires that my legs got tired around the same time that my lungs did. A big glass of red wine last night did nothing to help my run this morning, except possibly make it a little bit more masochistic.

I also saw a friend on the trail (Hi Jeff :-)), and remembered that I am an anti-social runner/slogger. We went about half a mile and I had to tell him to bug off because I cannot talk and move at the same time. Seriously, ask anyone on my middle school track team who remembers my broken arm. From running and talking. (Sorry Jeff :-))

In honor of my lightning speed, AHEM, I leave you with a kick arse pic. You are welcome :-)

Thanks, Jenny Lawson and itattoo.com




Sunday, July 1, 2012

July First

I have not been blogging lately because I have been too busy BEING.

Busy watching the fire burn. Busy being obsessed with percentages contained, acres burning, wind speeds and directions, numbers of homes burned, weathermen advising, politicians pontificating. Busy sifting through all of our stuff, figuring out what to take when we were under pre-evacuation. (For those who don't know, pre evac means be ready. Seriously ready. You might not be evacuated or you might move to a mandatory evac with ten minutes to get out.) Busy trying to be practical by grabbing documents-birth certificates, divorces decrees, passports, etc. Busy being practical by packing underwear and dog food and stuff we would need in the immediate future. Busy getting lost in the details, wanting to grab the birdhouse my Pepa made, the quilt my great grandmother made, pillowcases my Mema made, lovey dove sentimental things...

But now, we are free of the pre-evacuation notice. Even as the bulldozers are only a couple of miles away digging 'lines in the sand' for the possibility of the fire turning, my heart feels freer than it has in days. My eyes may still be burning from the lingering smoke and my every belonging may smell like a bad campfire/incense, but I don't feel the fear that has been crushing for days.

And life goes on. Superteen goes back to seven more days of Wilderness Camp, Timesboy revels in being a stinky boy- bike riding, archery, frisbee, knife throwing (ummmm, yeah. We had a come-to-Jesus talk about THAT one...). Laundry piles up, bills beckon to be paid, gardens keep growing, outdoor running resumes (albeit with the knowledge that the smoke is definitely still present. I have decided it has to be better than whatever crap they are pumping into the gym to mask the smoke odor...), dinner parties and writing groups pick back up. Life. Goes. On.

That being said, if you see a firefighter, hug them! One, because they are heroes and saved our city from what could have been an unchecked devastation, and two, because they are usually hotties ;-)

Palmer Lake Reservoir, just thought you peeps would need a pic of the coolness we hold dear...


Peace and love and ice cubes and cool drinks and breezes, y'all! XOXO