Our Bold Adventure Continues

M has an imaginary friend. In the car today she was telling me a story about her friend "Ima" (Eema?) and the things they did together today: swinging, pretending something was a ship, etc. I asked if Ima was a new friend at summer camp. M said, "no, mom, I made her up." "You mean she's not at school?" "No, I said I made her up." Later, when M+O were talking about their birthday in September (which they know is "soon" and discuss almost daily) unprompted, M said Ima would not be able to come to their birthday party because she had a doctor's appointment that day. I wouldn't have expected a twin who has a constant playmate to have an imaginary friend, but she does. Wonder if Ima will stick around? (I found out later that funnydad knew all about Ima. She's been with us for a month or more he reports. Where have I been? Yeah, I'm the Best. Mom. Ever.) * * * O: At school at circle time sometimes the teachers say a boy ha...

When M grows up she wants to be "an excellent drawer." She also wants to be a "snork snickeler" which is their word for snorkel (a thing they'd never encountered before last week). O wants to be a snork snickeler, too, and an "art maker." I guess she's not limiting her medium just yet. We learned these things while on our vacation back east. It was fantastic to spend 11 days with our kids as a family. Somehow, when separated from regular life, the same kids who can sometimes drive me up a tree became a near-constant delight. We watched them play in new spaces and make up wonderous games. We spent more time together just hanging out and learning their versions of songs ("it's one-two-three strikes and you'll be happy at the old ball game") and hearing about their newly-formed career plans. Until now the "when I grow up" conversations have been limited to things they can't have yet. Like gum. Or cockatoos. Or sparkly p...

Amy, me, Monica, and Elizabeth a few miles into our walk. Note that no one looks tired, sore, sick, or injured. So I did it. I put one foot in front of the other and completed the Avon Walk. It was, quite honestly, a lot harder than I thought it would be, and every bit as rewarding. It was a lot of things, actually. Fun, inspiring, parts were easy, parts were miserable, some of it was boring, the scenery was beautiful. Mostly, I'm glad it's done. Step by step it's not that hard, I mean it's walking not technical climbing or anything. But all those steps build up and after a dozen miles or so you feel it. By the end I was gimpy, having strained the top part of my calf muscles. Those muscles and general fatigue made getting up at 5:00 a.m. to walk again on Sunday super hard, but I did it. The event was a lot of monotony because as I've explained, long-distance walking is more a mind and time game than an endurance contest. As I walked a seemingly endless path I though...

It's now the week before my big Avon Walk. I walk next weekend, June 28-29. If you'd like to donate, there's still time. If you're tired of my groveling for dollars, you can ignore me guilt-free: I made my fundraising requirement. I'd love more support , but I am cleared to participate now that my many friends (and some strangers) have coughed up $2150. (Though, if I raise another $50 I get a baseball hat.) I am sure I'll post more after the Big Event, but the truth, dear blog reader (both of you), is that I'm kind of over this whole Avon Walk thing. It's dragged on too long. The lead-up has been too slow. I signed up sometime last fall, jazzed and excited, so thrilled I literally jumped up and down when I decided to do it. My concerns at the time were about raising the money, not completing the walk. Turns out, fundraising was a challenge and I didn't enjoy it, but I got it done with only minor stress. It's the training that had me in tears. Not...

I'm back from the wild west. Last week I traveled to Worland, WY for a short business trip. The trip went well, but the place is what merits mentioning here. Worland, WY is not just a small, rural town. It's a small, rural town more than an hour from the closest Target, Wal-Mart, or interstate. It's a place where the only national chains are a McDonald's and a Burger King. It's small, and not in a quaint way. It's got appeal -- mostly from outstandingly friendly people I met while there and the unique land that surrounds it, but this factory town with a wild west history is certainly dusty around the edges. The plane trip in shows you how remote Worland is -- nothing to see for miles around -- and the town feels very flat. Maybe there were a few two-story buildings, but apparently it's cheaper to build out than up. It all felt dwarfed by the space surrounding it. I came home humming Cole Porter's song, "Don't Fence Me In." I flew in on a bu...

Me and 54,250 of my closest friends were part of the biggest timed road race in the country today. I wasn't exactly racing, but there were those who were. I walked the 10k course along with thousands of other people -- the Bolder Boulder is open to everyone, and has a large contingent of walkers in addition to some serious runners. It's been going on for thirty years and attracts people from all over the country. And it's right here in Colorado (which I recently heard is considered the nation's healthiest state). It was fantastic, and I can't wait to do it next year. Who wants to come to Boulder and do it with me? Ten kilometers (roughly six miles) isn't a tough walk, and for someone training for the Avon Walk it should be like a warm up. There were 85 start times to stagger the elite runners from the slow-poke walkers -- I left in a fast walker group at 9:10 a.m. (9:10:40 to be precise, and as they shuffled each starting group to the starting line, they actua...

Someone brought an archery bow for target shooting in to my office. Because that’s just the kind of outdoorsy place Boulder is. Or ECOS is. Or it’s what kids do. I’m not really sure what collection of reasons combine to make this seem like the sort of thing that happens here, but there she was with a bow in her hand, flat and unstrung. Her kid doesn’t use it anymore, and another colleague’s kid may use it for summer camp. Like the proverbial person who gets on a bicycle after years of not riding only to pedal effortlessly, I knew what to do. I strung the bow in about two seconds, gently threading my leg through the loose string, placing the lower end over my left foot and the center of the bow on the outside of my right hip. A gentle push out with my hip and down with my right hand, and the job was done. I haven’t even thought about archery since the summer I was 17, and yet I remembered how to string a bow as if I’d just emptied a quiver. Isn’t it funny what a person keeps locked awa...