Our Bold Adventure Continues

I've been a reluctant exerciser most of my life. I participated in track and cross country in high school because being on a sport got me out of gym class. Running didn't require a try out and it was way better than gym. William and Mary had a four-semester gym requirement which I met with one dance class, two ropes course classes called "Adventure Games," and bowling. In my post-college years I did no serious exercise at all, and stayed sedentary even as each of my parents suffered (and survived) heart attacks. Age caught up with metabolism around age 30 and I began to half-heartedly work out at a gym. Close to my wedding I worked out with a trainer and actually enjoyed it, though that spell was short-lived. Soon grad school, and then kids, sucked up my energy and time. Inertia set in. But Boulder has a way of wearing off on a person, and it turns out that if I make it fun I don't mind exercising so much. Hiking. Rock climbing. Riding around on my bike, pulling ...

We've been married eight years today. Eight years of marriage, ten of conversation, and there are still occasionally things he says about himself that I didn't know — recently, a story about grade school, rotating seats in math class, and waiting for it to be his turn to move to the front row. There was a girl involved, and teasing, and I'd never heard a word of it. It's nice when after so many years there's still something new to share. The old things are nice, too. It's nice to know how much cheese someone likes in their quesadillas AND which newspaper columnists they turn to first. It's comforting to know a routine so well that I can time my morning shower to come downstairs to be on kid duty just as his cereal bowl enters the sink. It's nice to know he's cheering for me when I have something big going on, and it feels good to support him in his endeavors. Mostly it's just nice to be together. And to be a family together. My love blossoms furt...

Or, "Don't worry about me, I'll just be here in the back." I've joined a women's hiking group. By "joined" I mean I have been twice, and by "hiking" I mean walking up a very steep natural stair stepping machine. They meet every Monday evening from April until September and hike a different hike around Boulder. (For those of you not in Boulder, I'll let that sink in -- yes, there are that many different hikes in and around Boulder.) They hike throughout the season and then as fall approaches they hike a "14er," or a 14,000 foot mountain. Then, they hike "the three mountain challenge," which is hiking the three major mountains in Boulder in a single day. So, you can imagine my wonderful timing in joining this group when everyone else is in peak shape, all prepared for their two big events of the year. They're hiking their 14er on September 6th, so this was the last regular Monday hike. I'm sad to see it go eve...

I canned peaches today, my inaugural canning experience. Loads of fun and not at all difficult, it's just that there are a few rules to pay attention to. The first thing to know is that Colorado peaches are divine. I'm not sure why people in Georgia are all ga ga over their peaches, because there is no way on god's green earth they're better than these mountain beauties. The line for them at the farmer's market is always 15 or 20 people deep, and every week I'm in it buying my fix. A neighbor told me she cans a bunch each season and they make winter more bearable. I'd been wanting to learn to can; I asked if she'd show me how, and of course she said yes. So, a couple of neighbors, a couple of boxes of peaches, and a couple of hours later, I'm practically an expert. Well, close enough that I'll try it on my own next time. First we sterilized the jars. Then we washed, halved, and peeled the peaches (that order worked best). Then we put them in jars...

One year ago today I was on an airplane moving to Boulder. Funnydad and daughters had come ahead, leaving me an un-populated house to prepare for sale. And leaving me plenty of time to brood about Change, the nature of Home, and just how the hell we were going to sell our house in a declining real estate market. The house sold lickity split for our full asking price, which I took as a good omen. A year sounds like a lot when you say it out loud, but it's really short when you live it. Here I am a year later trying to make some sort of sense of it all, realizing I'm not sure there is sense to be made. Boulder is a great place to live, no doubt. About its only major drawback is that it's so far from family. Everything else agrees with us: the weather, the community, the culture, the politics, the geography, our quality of life, even the availability of ethnic food. So then why don't I feel all nestled in and not new anymore? And what does that even mean? We've done a...

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...