Hello April

I am officially closing down the winter sports season here at Durango Mom. We're done. We are onto greener pastures, so to speak. Max is full swing into soccer and looking strong. Lewis will be hopping on his mountain bike for Devo next week and Sweet Della will begin her formal rock climbing education. Matt is training for an ultra. I am planting spinach seeds.

We will return the kid's skis...we rent for the season. We'll put the long underwear in the box with the camping gear. We will weed out and sort through and pack away. Can you tell that this excites me?!

But I leave you with one last picture of winter. I came across it last night. It's from a few years back and never fails to send me into hysterics.

Did he throw up on her? you ask.

And I think that's a legitimate question.

No, he did not.

Was she scarred for life?

She doesn't appear to be.

Happy Mud Season All!

And, as always, thanx for reading.


run:3

Sharon and Karen, The Sequel

To really 'get' this post you need to go read this one.

Go ahead, we'll wait for you.

These girls are dear friends and arch enemies.

Yes, they are still at it.

Penelope (aka Karen) came over on Sunday. The boys were out and about with friends, so we thought it would be a quiet and peaceful Sunday afternoon.

HA!

It started with a simple game of matching.

"It's not called matching, it's called Memory" Della snarked.

'It's called matching, you fruitcake!' says P-Nell

I chime in, because I'm a reasonable adult, and volunteer the possibility that both names work just fine.

They both shoot daggers at me and carry on. Not a civil word is uttered during the game, and it ends in a draw.

They argue in a very forceful way that I sometimes envy. They are well matched and like minded. They are both persuasive and determined.Their tenacity is admirable. They should sell real estate or something.

I thought we were going to have to anesthetize both of them at one point.

How convenient would that be? I don't go for 'time out'. It annoys me on several levels and that's another post. HOWEVER! Passed out? I may be onto something.....

Funny story. Matt's dad is an anesthesiologist and a pilot. Matt is one of six kids, and when they were young they traveled via small plane. When his dad got tired of the bickering he would climb to an altitude of questionable oxygen content until all the kids fell (suddenly) fast asleep. Brilliant.

Maybe I'll get my pilots license.

run:4

Spring project

Just as soon as one project is completed, another great idea comes breezing down the lane. Our entry way is a forever boondoggle of shoes, boots, packs, coats, instruments, hats, sports equipment, and so on. I am always looking for ways to tame the beast. Last year, Matt took the boy's old skateboards, removed the wheels, and added hooks. Pretty cool, but it's spring and I'm ready for a change.

marieclaire via poppytalk

Simple, natural, and easy. My tree will have to be a bit bigger to accommodate all of our stuff. And I have a few ideas to make it more personal. We should all have our own branch and bird, for sure. And a stump with a basket, in addition to the stool.

Click on the link under the picture for the tutorial. But learn French first. Unless you're a total spaz, this one looks self explanatory.

{and on another note! In April, we start featuring a weekly DM interview. The line-up is, well, lining up and I'd love to interview you. Yes. You. My email is in the sidebar. Send me an email and I'll shoot out an interview. Easy as pie!}

friend or foe

My husband is new to facebook. He has stayed away from it, but now sees that it might be useful as a marketing tool. I'm thinking maybe not.

He calls me into the office (which also doubles as the bathroom).

How do I get rid of this long string of stupid-ass comments coming down below a person's name? he asks in all seriousness.

Um, you don't? That's the whole point of facebook, Dear.

A few minutes later he summons me again.

'I'm deleting friend's.' he says. 'Is that cool? I just don't want to see their face or hear their shit.'

Let's not mince words.

I look at his 'friend' requests, lined up and waiting for the confirm or ignore designation.

What about those folks, I ask.

"It grosses me out to think that they're still alive." he says

So ya'll weren't that close.....

Which brings me round to the obvious question. Is facebook a harmless amusement or a suck hole of wasted time and misplaced energies? Or something in between. Or both. As with everything, I think prudence is key. Don't you just love that good, old fashioned word? Prudence. Let's look it up.

pru·dence  (prdns) n. 1. The state, quality, or fact of being prudent. 2. Careful management; economy. Synonyms: prudence, discretion, foresight, forethought, circumspection These nouns refer to the exercise of good judgment, common sense, and even caution, especially in the conduct of practical matters. Prudence is the most comprehensive: "She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older" (Jane Austen). Discretion suggests wise self-restraint, as in resisting a rash impulse: "The better part of valor is discretion" (Shakespeare). Foresight implies the ability to foresee and make provision for what may happen: She had the foresight to make backups of her computer files. Forethought suggests advance consideration of future eventualities: The empty refrigerator indicated a lack of forethought. Circumspection implies discretion, as out of concern for moral or social repercussions: "The necessity of the times, more than ever, calls for our utmost circumspection" (Samuel Adams).

You may not know it, but I just did you a HUGE favor. That is an AWESOME definition with some world class quotes thrown in to boot. If my mother told me once, she told me a million times, 'discretion is the better part of valor'. I was like, 'yeah sure Mom, I'll get right on that', but Jesus, Mary and Joseph was she onto something.

I have some friends who should consider tattooing it on their bikini line. But I digress.

So sorry. Back to Facebook.

Matt says it's akin to a casual get-together that goes awry. The idea was to get some folks together, no harm in that, maybe some old friends will drop by. At first, all is well. But the word is out, and people start showing up.

Friends of friends.

Virtual strangers.

Things get out of control. Someone throws up on the oriental rug. "Hey Matt, Kerry Noth just drove up; he wants you to hear the sub-woofer he just put in his Camry."

Fast forward 20 years.

Now it's all in your inbox and needing your attention. Kerry Noth is 'on the lake with great friends and Zeus, his huskie/lab mix.'

As if.

Remember, prudence is the word of the day.

Let's use a form of it in a sentence.

It would not be prudent to 'friend' Matt.

sunday inspiration

via poppytalk

{this moment}

I've read soulemama for many years. Soulemama and Posie gets Cozy were my first two favorite blogs. I initially found soulemama, because that's what I wanted to call my own blog, without the e, of course. And then, drat, I found that it was taken in a very big way. But I was so happy to 'meet' her and I love everything about her writing. She reminds us, day in and day out, to see the grand beauty in the smallest of everyday tasks.

I, for one, am thankful for her gentle reminders.

{this moment} is just that. A gentle reminder. Bloggers all over pause and savor. And I've decided to join in. So, without further ado and in the words of Amanda Soule....

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

A lazy friday morning, with french toast and whipped cream from the cows down the road.

Change in plans

Generally, my Friday would look something like this. Wake up, drink coffee, get kids off to school, do some super fast house cleaning to some fun loud music, make a cup of tea, and then settle in to write. Write write write, run run run, then pick up the kids at school, and begin our weekend.

Friday was MY day.

I just, very recently, acquired this personal day. I find her lovely. Yes, it's a she.

But for now she's out the window. Another 'she' needs me.

For several reasons, none too dramatic or earth shattering, we've decided to keep Della home on Fridays.

We need more time together. She's five. She's my baby. I'm old school about most things and kindergarten is on that list. I think a half day is plenty when you're five. I understand why it's a full day, but I know it's overwhelming for a little person.

I'm very excited. We have big plans.

We're going to bake some bread and plant some seeds.

We might go to the thrift store to look for a hamster cage. We might paint our toenails. We might eat Indian for lunch. Anything is possible! (except getting any writing done, but that's OK)

Here's to a peaceful weekend!

bread part two

As promised, the follow up to bread part one!

A million years ago we lived in Jackson, Wyoming, in a tent. This was before it got all pimped out, but I'm sure it's still lovely. Now we would HAVE to live in a tent, it wouldn't just be a matter of personal choice. Our dear friends lived in an 8 by 10 storage unit. Ah, those were the days.

see the big jar in the background? i combine the o, s and m, in the proper proportions for ease of use.

There was and still is a restaurant called The Bunnery. It's good. Try it if you go there. They have cornered the market on a delightful trio of seeds and grains called OSM, and they use it in everything. Breads, buns, waffles, pancakes, etc. OSM stands for oats, sunflower seeds and millet. The genius lies in the millet. Who knew? It offers the perfect texture and mouth feel. It's also tasty. I immediately thought of this bread when I started making my own, and have adapted it many times over. It's safe to say that I change it every single time I make it, and you can too. I use spelt, both white and not, with the whole wheat. What follows is a basic template.

I make this once a week. Two loaves are about right for our family.

The Bunnery's OSM Bread
adapted by proof of the pudding

2 1/4 cups lukewarm water
1 package (2 1/2 teaspoons) dry active yeast
1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup canola or safflower oil
1 1/2 tablespoons salt
1/2 cup rolled oats
1/4 cup sunflower seeds
1/4 cup millet
2 cups bread flour (or all-purpose flour)
3-4 cups whole wheat flour

Mix together the lukewarm water and honey in a large bowl or the bowl of a stand mixer. Sprinkle the yeast over the top and stir until dissolved. Allow the yeast to proof for 5-10 minutes, until the yeast rises to the surface and starts to foam.

Stir the oil into the yeast mixture. Then add 1 cup of bread (or all-purpose) flour and 2 cups whole wheat flour and beat with a wooden spoon or the paddle attachment until the batter is smooth and glossy. Cover the bowl and let the dough rest for 20 minutes.

Add the salt, oatmeal, sunflower seeds and millet to the bowl; stir down the dough and blend in. Add the remaining cup of bread flour and stir well. Gradually add in the remainder of the whole wheat flour. When the dough becomes too stiff to stir, turn out onto a lightly floured counter and knead for about 10 minutes (or, switch to the dough hook on your mixer — this will take less time), until the dough is soft, but not sticky. Place the dough in a large bowl that has been oiled, cover and allow to rise until doubled in bulk, about 1 1/2 hours.

Grease two 9″x5″ loaf pans and line with parchment paper, allowing the parchment to hang over the longer sides of the pan (this will make it easier for you to lift the loaves out of the pans). Punch down the dough and knead lightly and briefly to deflate. Divide the dough in half and form each half into a loaf, and place a loaf in each pan. Allow the loaves to rise until doubled, about 45 minutes.

About 20 minutes before you bake, preheat the oven to 350°F. Bake the loaves for about 40 minutes, until the loaves are nicely browned and sound hollow when tapped (the internal temperature should be around 200°F). Allow the loaves to cool in the pans for a few minutes, then lift out of the pans using the parchment paper and let them cool completely.

Yield: Two 9″x5″ loaves

Can I say this? If you aren't a baker, then those directions probably look daunting and time consuming. What the hell, you're muttering to yourself. Why would I take all damn day to make some bread, when I can run to the store and buy some? Why, indeed?

The first time is slow. It is. But the second time, not so much. And you get to say these words OUT LOUD. 'Honey, do you want some warm bread with butter?' Or the neighbor boy walks in the house and says these words.  'Mmmmm, it smells good in here.' Or you make sandwiches on your OWN bread and your sixth grader says 'Mom, you could open a restaurant with this sandwich.'

It's just different. And better. And it gets to be super easy. I promise.

I have a small confession to make that may help ease you into baking. Ready? I don't like to touch my bread. I don't need to knead. It's not part of my 'process'. Call me cold, but I make mine in the kitchen aide mixer. From start to finish. When I believe it to be properly mixed I stick my thumb way into it, and if it comes out clean, then we're a go. I set it by the wood stove to rise, then pop it in the oven.

Give it a try! It's worth all the hoopla!

bread part one

I wrote this post a few years ago. I am re-posting because I am now a certified bread baker. It has been a long, long time since we bought a loaf of bread. The concept seems foreign. I have tweaked and re-tweaked my recipe and have come up with a spelt, oat, sunflower and millet version that is close to perfect. Tomorrow I will post the recipe. This is to put you in my mind set around it all. I know. Just what you wanted, right? To be in my mind. It's a strange and wonderful place, join me for just a moment! 

++++++++++

the post from May '08

Long ago, before marriage and children, maybe just out of college, I'm not sure, I bought this book. As you can see, it's the bible for bread baking. The highest authority on the subject. It's not bright yellow as the picture above portrays. It's a ruddy, earthy tone of mustard. I feel very earnest just looking at it. If you know me well, you know that travel and movement has been a big part of my life. I like to purge and travel light. I don't hang onto superfluous things. Somehow or another this book has remained in my cookbook collection despite the fact that I have never, not once, used it. Why do I still have it then? Why didn't I let it go at the yard sale in Athens or Port Townsend or Las Vegas or Jackson Hole or Bainbridge Island or Ann Arbor or Chicago or Mancos or Thomasville or....

Let me tell you.

Somewhere along the way, not sure where (or why) I put 'bread baking' on my list of IMPORTANT LIFE PRACTICES. Do you have that same list? You should. It makes an average, normal life a little more neurotic and exciting. I envisioned a certain completeness, a wholeness, if you will, to accompany my bread baking. If I were baking bread for my children we would be warmer, sturdier, our cheeks ruddier. With a hearty slice of warm bread on a pottery plate, slathered in fresh butter from a local dairy my children would be more apt to recite simple, but endearing poetry about birds in their woven nests or regale each other with tales anchored in ancient celtic lore. As we ate our crusty loaves at our hand hewn table we would be dressed simply but with classic flair. Lewis would wear this.

I would have to trim his mullet.

Della would wear this and we would all die of cuteness.

Max could wear anything because he has always looked like we just picked him up from a day of croquet, on an expansive green lawn, by a stone house, on the craggy and windswept coast of Scotland.

See what I mean. (that's aunt nan beside him) 

So has bread change our life, you ask? (and thanks for asking)

I wouldn't know.

I've never baked any.

Not a single rustic loaf.

Nada.

Nil.

Zilch.

28 (long) years of carrying the dream and the subsequent guilt associated with NOT BAKING BREAD....

But hold onto your hats. Because as I type. At this very moment. In southwest Colorado.

Downstairs in MY kitchen. Something is rising. It has a dough-like quality and a yeasty aroma.

Will you stay tuned for the final results?

Please do. I have so much vested in this.

+++++++++++++++

Go here for the shocking conclusion. Not really, I'm just feeling dramatic. And tune in tomorrow for the new and improved recipe that sorta has changed our lives just a tad.

A tune for you

I'm loving this song right now by the brother sister duo, Angus and Julia Stone from Australia. It's so sultry and slow. It's quite the opposite of all my wild and zingy running tunes. A fresh change. It makes you want to settle into a dark velvet booth with a sexy man (yes dear, i mean you) and a glass of something strong.

Love their website, too. So fun and creative. Check it out here.

OK Folks

I need some help. Matt finished the bed last week and I very much like it. It's just what I was after. However. I can't decide about the 'love' business. If you have no idea what I am talking about, then you need to go here and check out the inspiration for the bed. This is the picture that I showed Matt, and he delivered. In my opinion, the big fat yellow 'love' is too much. I like it, but not for me, you know what I mean?

Our family motto is 'Nothing but Love' and we have shortened that to NBL. We use that on things that we might want to monogram....towels, sterling, and such. It's also carved above doorways and set in concrete at several different locations 'cross this great nation of ours. I thought about 'monogramming' the wood with NBL. That's a possibility.

Or there's this. A small 'love' in the corner. See below. I wrote this in with photo shop. It doesn't exist in real life.It's just to help you see what I'm thinking. We would probably carve it, then paint it in to look oldish.

That's my grandmother's sewing basket, by the bed. Love it and use it! The oil painting is of an aspen grove up by  aspen guard station. 

So, help me, please. NBL or 'love' or nothing at all. Or something all together different?!

I'm all ears!

sunday inspiration

this free download available here

Della

Della and I took a walk the other day. We wanted to 'check' on some things. We walked down to the lake to see the peace sign and look for the gold fish. The peace sign was waning and the gold fish weren't as abundant as we'd hoped....sometimes there are millions. We settled, happily, for rock throwing.

I held onto her hood, so she wouldn't launch herself off the rock we were standing on, as she put her whole little body into the hurl. She came up short a few times. Then she sailed one into the water with a satisfying kerplop.

"I call that a good sound, Momma." she says.

"Me too, baby." And I feel a flood of gratitude for the love that defies explanation.

I say it over and over in my head till we get home and I can write it down.

I call that a good sound, Momma.

She's small and sturdy and has this special something that I can only think to call poise. It's coupled with a touch of wisdom and a witchy cackle. If I could freeze her, I might, but I wouldn't have the thrill of watching her bloom and shine. Everyday. Oh my.

update

      I promised an update on the food challenge that we began on Sunday. If you're joining us late, scroll down and read so you'll know what the heck I'm inflicting on my loved ones.

This is the yummy dish that started the 'clean out my pantry' kick. If only they were all so delightful and healthy and satisfying....and easy.

Night One: Black beans and brown rice with green chilis and lots of fresh kale. We ate it with a hot green salsa and sour cream and jalapeno cornbread. Those are kidney beans thrown in, too. My friend Mimi, of Hikercise fame, turned me onto this recipe, and it's so fortifying. If you've seen Mimi, then you know, we should all just say, "I'll have what she's having!" And this is it!

Night Two: Feeling strong and able. The kitchen was more like a restaurant with me turning out several small meals to make one big meal. In Spain they would call it tapas. But that makes it sound glamorous. And it wasn't. The last of the potstickers, a leftover hamburger with carmelized onions and blue cheese, a reuben made with a random frozen chicken breast, a plain chicken sandwich, and to tie it all together, a plate of deviled eggs. Weird. And a pain in the drawers. But these were things that needed eating. They got et.

Night Three: This was easy. Spaghetti and spinach salad with garlic bread. For the bread we used all those odd leftover buns that find refuge in the freezer. And our meager butter stash. Lewis had marshmallows and chocolate chips for dessert, on the sly.

Night Four: A coconut red curry with tofu, onion, spinach, tomatoes and carrots. More brown rice and a ginger lime slaw. Tasty. Max kept talking about how good the chicken was. He finally got it. Ahhh, it's tofu! And went back for more.

The trickiest part, so far, has been snacks. The kids can't see the possibilities as readily as I can and I have to help a good bit. Yesterday after school they were STARVING. Mean and ugly starving. I looked in the pantry and voila. Ramen. Three packs from 2004. I cooked it. They all sat at the table and started to inhale it, but suddenly Max hops up and goes to the trash and pulls out the wrapper. Bastard.

'Mom, can you just guess how much sodium is in this stuff?' he says, while waving the wrapper in the air.

'I have a feeling you're going to tell us, Mr. Takes Health Class SOOOO Seriously!'

'Try not to eat any more before college, and I think you'll live,' I say.

Because momma is cold and just doesn't care.

So far so good. I would be lying if I said that my kids aren't complaining, but I'm fine with that. They start to bitch and moan and then they pause and say 'oh yeah, my mom is weird, and we aren't buying food these days.'

Today when I picked them up from school I handed them all an orange and a smushed no name fig newton that had survived our road trip to Albuquerque. Yum. Who wants an old smushed fig newton?

No one, that's who.

Guess what? Not one word. They ate it all. Happily.

It made me want to go buy them a special treat.

But I didn't.

They can have some grated coconut and sweetened condensed milk.

tofu red curry

spring break 2011

  









  


  It seems that we didn't do much over spring break, but we sorta did. That's the best of both worlds, I believe.

Here it is in a nutshell.

• skied with family from Georgia
• climbed and hiked at Sand Canyon with friends
• had a della day with lunch and hats (for her) and bead shopping
• got our city fix in albuquerque 
• went to the zoo and aquarium and rode the train
• got my foreign fix at this amazing market
• painted the bedroom 
• matt finished the bed, bless his heart
• got back in the running groove
• did the grocery shopping at Trader Joe's 
• perused seeds to get planting soon
• watched spring tip toe in
• figured out how to make a header...you like?
• relaxed 
• saw snow turn to mud
• swim swam swum....della mastered the back flip
• played candyland 58 times and finally resorted to cheating to end it all
• taught myself some fun photo tricks

We put the camping off for a few weeks till it's a bit warmer. I also remembered that March can be a bear for camping because of the wind. Hate the wind.

It was all very nice. I'll post more pics during the week. These are from Sand Canyon. What an awesome place and so very close. The kids loved it.

a challenge

Part of me is quite frugal. The other part is Southern, and falls hard for nurturing with abundant food. I cleaned out my pantry yesterday and found so much that I had forgotten I had. Our dinner was a hearty hodge podge of black beans and brown rice with green chilies and kale and a spicy Mexican cornbread, all foraged from the larder. Everyone was happy. We sat around the table and talked about the food (we do a lot of that around here) and a plan emerged.

We are not going to buy any food at all for the next week or two. We are going to make do with what we have. We are going to be creative and agreeable. It's important that we are all on board, so that there will be no dissension in the ranks. (i.e. Matt sneaking off to the market for Ben and Jerry's)

This idea thrills me. I'm excited to go lean. As simple as we are, I sometimes feel that we have come to want too much. I don't think we should have something, just because we want it. I certainly do not want my kids thinking that way. If nothing else, this should heighten our senses around waste.

My first thought was, Holy Mother of God, we only have a half stick of butter!!!

My second thought was, yikes, what about greens? Ahhh! The lowly cabbage to the rescue.

I bought a big bag of oranges last week, so we won't die of scurvy.

I'm sure that 'issues' will arise.

That's sort of the fun part, right.

So, in the interest of boring you to tears, I'm going to fill you in on what we eat this week and the heart ache that we might encounter around significantly reducing our beloved dairy fat.

Pins and needles, I know!

(and feel free to join me in this little adventure!)

daddy

Matt takes the kids to school most mornings. He came back home after dropping them.

 I didn't want to leave Della today, he said.

Why? said me.

I don't know. Her bangs looked so sweet and she's five and I just didn't want to leave her.

Glad I married that one.

egg and nest

I do not knit. I don't.

There. I said it and it's out in the open.

Max can knit. But not me. And every now and again, I yearn to cast on and just knit like hell. It looks relaxing and who doesn't love wool, for Pete's sake. The truth is, I can't add another hobby to my repertoire. I am already overrun with supplies for too many projects. My mind is a sordid breeding ground for all sorts of strange and funky.

Why are those bike rims in the back of your car? Matt asks.

I'm not sure. I say. I'm going to make something.

Why do you want that enormous ball of rusted barb wire? he asks.

It's shaped like an egg, I say.

I want to put it in that satellite dish and it will look like an alien bird nest, I say.

He actually agrees with me. Good husband.

Which brings me, long way round, to the beautiful knitted nest that I won the other day from Rhythm of the Home  and Kendra at By Hand at Home. I'm so excited. It' so simple and sweet. It was meant for me.

Because I will be knitting no eggs. Nor nests.

But feel free to drop by and see the Terminator Condor Model.

Why are there two 18 ft. long carpet tubes strapped to the top of your car? he asks.

Wait and see. I say.

sunday inspiration

via Olly Moss
optimism! yes, thanx!

we're back

We snuck away for a few days and it was quite refreshing. We left in a snowstorm and came home to lots of mud. Oh, the fickle face of March.

I think I'll really push the limit today.

I plan on re-arranging the refrigerator art.

Yep. Take that.

Have a nice weekend.

on turtle lake

I pass this every time I come home. Thank you to the person who took the time to build and share.

Create your own. Encourage your children to create.

Andy Goldsworthy is the king of the 'natural installation'. Check out one of his books right away. But the beauty lies in the fact that it is available to anyone, anywhere, anytime.

Public art is such a fun thing. I have an idea a-brewing in my head. It involves a scavenger hunt. Stay tuned for details.

Posting will be minimal this week as I am planning on being 'disconnected' and out in the wild world with the family.

Peace.

sunday inspiration

via musicphilosopy

already?

Soccer started this week. Boy, did that sneak up on me.

I never imagined myself a 'soccer mom' and I guess I still don't.

But let me say this.

I am so thankful to have a healthy child that can chase a ball for hours on end. Soccer requires a high level of fitness and it's very foundation requires teamwork. Not contrived teamwork, but the real mccoy. I get excited, and bummed, at games. I yell. There are lots of practices that throw dinner off and weekends spent traveling. A bother sometimes, but then you see improvement and growth and confidence and a competitive spirit blooming in the boy that can hardly make his bed.

And then there are the shin guards. My boy in shin guards looks so clean cut and strong. Love it.

Quit with the camera, he says. He's off. To go sweat and play with a group of boys that he feels accountable to, in a way that a mom can't teach.

I'm glad for that.

Soccer Mom, signing off!

P.S. And of course, he's out grown the cleats! Aaaaarrrgh!

the private jet

In the middle of the night I heard Matt's phone. This morning I asked who called. He checked it. Get this, he said. Jimmy (name not real) says that he might be able to get his hands on a private jet and if so, are we game for a quick trip to Nashville to see him play. We'd be back by Sunday.

I had several reactions. Let's list them in no particular order.

1. Nashville???!!!

2. Private Jet + Nashville = WRONG

3. Are the kids invited? Whaaa? Kids shouldn't be allowed on a private jet, should they? Not by      Hollywood's definition. Champagne and creamy upholstery. Beyonce and huge sunglasses. But of course, if we are having this exciting experience I would want the ruggers right there with me. Don't even get me started on the heartache that descends when traveling w/out children, which is, my beloved will be orphaned when the jet to Nashville(?) crashes. I just assume I'll die once I leave the city limits. Strange, but very true.

4. Nashville? Really. I've been to Nashville. It's fine. Let's try something jet appropriate, please. Barbados. Cannes. Cyprus. Paris. London? We can stay domestic even. New York. San Fran. Palm Beach. I'm just throwin' out ideas, OK? Nashville?

5. What does one wear on this jet? To Nashville. You know of my dilemma. It'll have to be jeans. And a white shirt.

6. Nashville is in Tennessee. Just to be clear.

7. And then my final thought, which arrived about 2 seconds after Matt read me the text... I ain't going to Nashville! BUT I am seriously honored that someone is bandying about the very thought of picking me up in a private jet and flying me anywhere. Even Nashville.

I'll hold this thought close this weekend as I clean the boy's bathroom, fix the 8oth meal of the day, clean out my car, haul wood, build fires, wash dishes, fold laundry, you know the drill.

Private jet. Private jet. Private jet. Private jet.....

the lewis cheesecake review

In his own words...

A review of our vegan and raw lemony cheese cake!

"It didn't have any dairy or wheat, but it still tastes good. My favorite part of it was the blueberry topping, but all of it was good. It was different from regular cheese cake. the end."

A man of few words.

We are a family that ingests more than our fair share of dairy fat. Lewis was comparing this to extremely decadent recipes that have hu-normous amounts of cream cheese and oreos. Stiff competition. And it ranked a 'good'.

I'd say that's really good.

swimming holes and grocery stores

Spring break begins on Friday. You have probably surmised that I am not a big planner. I have a trick or two up my sleeve and we are nothing, if not intrepid, so I'm not too worried. We will pack the car and set out.

I have a thing for hot springs and swimming holes. Always have. I once entertained the notion of mapping the best swimming holes in our great country. By swimming hole I mean lake, quarry, spring, river, creek, waterfall, bay or any other body of water that naturally forms a spot ideal for swimming, skinny dipping, rope swings, cliff jumping or any other water related shenanigans. I love water. Read more here.

It's still too cold for swimming around here, so let's narrow our agenda to hot springs. Natural hot springs. A very long time ago I came across an article in Sunset magazine about hot springs. The only thing I remembered was the picture. See below. I need to go there, I thought to myself.

You can read the whole article here. 

So let's. And that's about it for the plan. Camping near hot springs. There are lots in the area around this one. Some require a good little hike in. Might we visit the nearest city for a dose of Trader Joe's?
 We just might. And isn't it sad that a grocery store can excite me so!

It is.

Today I am being paid to spend the day skiing with my family and 80 of my favorite people. We are frolicking in fresh powder at Wolf Creek. I love Wolf Creek. It's old school skiing at it's finest. Great snow, no lines, a beautiful mountain, a huge yummy burger that costs what it should (instead of what they can take you for) and it's all very reasonable! Today is local's day, so it's downright cheap.

Throw in the hot springs in Pagosa and it's nirvana for moi.

I forgot to say happy March.

Happy March All!

the dude

When do they stop playing in boxes? And wearing capes? And doing that thing with their tongue?
Never, is just fine with me.