Canoe Trippin’

I posted the picture of the new canoe, and though we’ve taken three trips so far, I’ve yet to post a picture!!

Well, here are a few from our last trip about three weeks ago.

We drove south of Spokane to Hole in the Ground, a marshy area right between two finger lakes – Bonney and Rock Lakes. From there we paddled north to Bonney Lake. It was a gorgeous day! 

Highlights and memorable moments: We saw a huge colony of cliff swallow nests, and were able to paddle close enough to see babies popping their heads out, looking for food.

 

Lunch on an island mid-lake, where we got to see a garter snake up close as we got out of the canoe. I was pulling the canoe up on some flat rocks when I looked down and saw it about three feet in front of me. I stopped and pointed it out to the Towhead before he slithered off into the brush. No startling “ahhh!”s on either of our parts. Just a quiet, slow “Hi. You can go now.” Mr. A tried to catch it, but didn’t get out of the canoe quick enough  I also my first glimpse of poison ivy (yikes!)

We paddled to the far end of the lake, a bit farther than we were in shape  prepared to paddle, though we didn’t realize that until the last hour of the trip. All of this was based on the fact that someone told us there was a waterfall at the end of the lake – the things we’ll put ourselves through for the sake of a little beauty We didn’t get to see the waterfall we were looking for, but we did get to see a waterfall. And lots  of painted turtles. I don’t have any pictures because we spent too much time trying to get close to them and maybe pull one in the boat for the Towhead to see. They were good size – imagine small dinner plate – with the characteristic red around the outer carapace. We got really close but never managed to catch one.

 

Then there was the last hour. Oh, that last hour was painful. And we almost tipped the whole family and everything that came with us into the lake when we went to retrieve a water gun the Bean (aka Towhead) had dropped into the water for the third time. Combine the long day, near dump into the lake, sore arms, and too much sun (no sunburns though) and the result was me sitting in the bottom of the canoe holding a tearful Towhead while Mr. A tried to navigate the windy path through the marsh by himself – not an easy task.

But that was the only downside of the day. After a Popsicle a wonderful stranger handed us, and a power nap in the truck, the Bean was ready to roar. One of the couples that went with us owns 300+ acres right next to Turnbull Wildlife and Elk Refuge just north of the lake. They fed us salmon, fresh corn, and coleslaw, and gave us a tour of the barns where they have sheep, goats, cows, turkeys, and chickens. Then the adults got to watch as the Bean and the other two kids ran around and tackled each other in the grass.

We head out again this weekend (or at least that’s the plan).

New additions to the color wheel

I have so many things to write about and update people on. I keep bookmarking things in my head, or composing blog entries as I get ready for bed. The schedule at work has kept me running for two weeks now with no time to fit in much of anything besides sleeping, eating, and the occasional instance where we put on a movie and pile the entire family and dog on the couch for some much-needed cuddles, relaxation, and long sighful breaths at the end of the day.

The tidalwave will abate . . . just in time for our over-scheduled family vacation. In spite of all this, I am happy – busy, tired, excited, with a very long to-do list – but still happy. In times like this it seems that after a period of stress and short tempers, Mr. A and I take notice of it all and even though the stress may not have diminished, we make an extra effort to laugh, hug, talk, and care for each other in a way that makes the chaos more manageable. Mr. A is unparalleled at making me not take life or myself too seriously (at least when he’s not super stressed himself).

This weekend a heavy thunderstorm left us in a humid and cool house with no chance at working on the yard. So the Towhead and I worked on an art project I’ve been wanting to try for awhile. (I’ll take pictures once it’s done.)We also added two new descriptors to the artists color wheel: purply and pinkable. Towhead was in fine form. I have to get a tape recorder in addition to a camera – her stories and quoteable quotes these days are hilarious.

When I Grow Up, or my daughter learned to warp time

We have entered the infamous phase. That of “Mama, when I grow up I wanna be an [fill in the blank]“  The current list includes (wait for it . . . ): Firefighter, Astronaut, and Pajamanator.

What is a Pajamanator, you ask? I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it. The way it’s talked about around our house I thought everyone knew. According to the Crazy Towhead, or Bean (which I still call her), a Pajamanator is someone who wears blue pajamas and gets into the cicus ring with her doll (who is also wearing blue pajamas) and puts everyone to sleep. I have decided to encourage her by pointing out that all her chosen career paths are focused on helping people. After all, I like to sleep and I’ll take any help from her I can get.

Bean also likes to talk about what she did when she was big. For instance, she will tell me stories about how when she was six she went to the Eiffel Tower and saved a small cat. She also delights in telling me that when I get little I’ll be able to drink from a straw, just like her. This warping of time happens quite regularly. While the stories she tells about herself involve her being both older and younger, in her mind I don’t ever seem to get older, just younger. I can live with this.

I have to wonder though. I mean my kid is brilliant (obviously), and she has a general understanding of a lot of concepts, things that often surprise me. The other day as we were talking about astronauts and what they do (we were reading a library book about an astronaut), I was trying to explain the difference between sky and space. She got it almost instantly, interupting me and to say ”Mama, stick  up your hand” (I did), then she put her arm next to mine and said, “This (pointing to her arm) is where the sky is, and this (pointing to my arm) is where space is.” They overlap but space extends/exists above the sky. I told you, brilliant. So why the warping of time? Have I totally screwed up the kid by not explaining how time works? Have Mr. A and I spent too much time discussing Sci Fi shows at the dinner table? Does she know something I don’t? Has she invented some machine in her closet?

I’m sure she’ll figure it out at some point. The question is whether I break down before that point and teach her the Time Warp so she can try out for the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Who knew we’d buy a new canoe?

Here’s a brief photo essay of what we’ve been up to the last few weeks:

A few weeks ago the Shrine Circus was in town. We decided to go the day of, and I’m glad we did. It brought back so many memories of going to see the circus with my Papa, who is a Shriner. As an adult I was afraid I wouldn’t like it – that it wouldn’t be as thrilling,  that I would see was the exploitation of people and animals. To my delight that is not what I saw. It was fantastic and a ton of fun! And yes, Towhead and I got to ride the elephant.

Towhead’s school hosted a “Mother’s Day Tea” on Friday. All the moms came for lunch and the kids were waiting for us with handmade gifts. I’ve never done anything like this before. If Towhead ever made me a gift I usually was the one to decide what it was and help her put it together. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing I like more than designing a craft project for her and letting her go to work. But this was awfully nice! The screaming fit she threw as I left (in her two months at school this is the first one ever) kinda put a damper on things though.

Mother’s Day weekend couldn’t have been better. We had friends over for homemade clamchowder, and played cards until late. Sunday Mr. A and CT made me pancakes and we took a bike ride. As if these weren’t enough, there was the  unexpected surprise of finding a canoe for sale that we could afford!The plan is to test it out next weekend. I’m vibrating in anticipation. All three of us loved the canoe trip we took last summer and have been looking for a canoe to buy ever since. This is the new baby, a 15 ft Coleman:

And then there’s the tulips that have been brightening my mornings.

Bikes and Beer

Last night, after dinner, CT and I took my bike and the bike trailer to the park to play around for a bit on the swings. Mr. A brought the dog and his beer and walked behind us. There was a slight wind gusting through the dusky light. The frosty chill still hasn’t disappeared from the spring air, but three boys had also gravitated to the park to play basketball.
“Hey boys, whatcha doin’?” yells CT. Mr. A rolled his eyes and drank more beer.

And the beet goes on

It’s spring! And evey spring for the past two years I look forward to something I know to be most abundant and tasty this time of year: beets and greens.

I was never an adventurous eater as a child. I didn’t really learn to like and enjoy a lot of new foods until I went to college. You’d never know it now I’ve tried snails (in both garlic and tabasco sauces), elk, moose, deer, beef tongue, crickets and meal worms, octopus, and I’ve developed an affinity for kimchi.

Many of you have heard me talk about the CSA basket we subscribed to in Reno. Well, this is where I developed a taste for beets, thanks to a simple recipe from Tina Smith of HomeGrown Nevada Farms that combines roasted beets, beet greens and chevre. I remember being intrigued by beets long before that though after reading Tom Robbins’s Jitterbug Perfume.

I wanted to quote the introduction, for the book begins and ends with beets. But as usual, I can’t find it when I’m looking for it. It’s an odd book that way and has done this to me a couple of times. I misplace it, or lend it to someone. And then I get hungry for beets. Which means I get hungry to read Tom Robbins and his eccentric description of beets. And then I can’t find it. However, I did find the first couple sentences excerpted in a review of the book:

The beet,” begins this book, “is the most intense of vegetables. The radish, admittedly, is more feverish, but the fire of the radish is a cold fire, the fire of discontent not of passion. Tomatoes are lusty enough, yet there runs through tomatoes an undercurrent of frivolity. Beets are deadly serious.

It’s an odd and funny book, best read by people in their late teens and mid-twenties, and/or those who enjoy the quirky aspects of life and the symbolism that hides in the everyday. I’ve never heard anyone describe beets as Robbins does. I think that’s why he wrote about them – because no one ever has.

Beets are stubborn, vivacious, and very much of the earth. They come in an array of colors from white, to pink, to an almost midnight magenta. The strength and audacity of their color makes me laugh whenever I cook them. The way my fingers stay pink for days afterward no matter how much I scrub them tickles me, well, pink. The greens are mild and much sweeter than other leafy greens like kale or chard. No one sells beet greens though. That fact alone makes me hate modern supermarkets on some level. Most of the beets sold in stores are large and therefore tough. Those and canned beets I think are what give people such a bad impression of them. They remind me of those grizzled men that hide in the rural corners of the world. They appear dirty, tough, and unsavory from the outside, but for a few select people they reveal themselves as compassionate and tender beyond measure. If you’re going to eat them, humor me and get them from a garden closeby or local farmer’s market. Savor the sweet earthy taste. And as I’ve told a number of people, don’t be afraid when they come out the same color they went in (ya knew I couldn’t let the poop theme die so easily).

When I uncover Jitterbug Perfume I’m sure it will be well past beet season, but if I remember I’ll post additional excerpts. In the meantime here’s one of my other favorite beet recipes:

Dilled Cucumber and Beet Salad

 Beets

Cucumber

Salt and pepper

Olive oil

White vinegar

Sour cream

Fresh dill

 

I use about 3 beets and 1 cucumber, but this recipe does not have to be exact. Feel free to adjust any of the above ingredients based on your personal preferences. 

In heavy-duty tin foil, wrap trimmed beets and some olive oil (I like to add a little garlic as well). Bake beets in foil packet for at least 1 hour at 350 degrees. Beets take a long time to cook and I find that often longer is better, and it makes it easier to peel off the skins. After you pull the beets out of the oven, slice open the packet and let the beets cool. 

Remember that no other vegetable has the chromatic perseverance of beets. Beware any surface, be it cutting board or fingers, that you don’t want stained. The color is sensuous and vibrant. Enjoy it. Rub off the skins with a paper towel. Cut beets into wedges. Toss in a bowl with 1 tbsp oil and 1 tbsp. white vinegar, salt and pepper. In another bowl, toss sliced cucumber, 2 tbsp sour cream, 1 tbsp chopped dill, and 2 tsp white vinegar. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Place beets on a platter and top with cucumbers.

 This recipe is courtesy of Tina Smith of HomeGrown Nevada Farms, who writes the newsletter for the Great Basin Basket. The Great Basin Basket is a local CSA (community supported agriculture) that provides local organic fruits and vegetables to those in the greater Reno-Sparks area for 18 weeks every summer.

Talking Poo, and no, I don’t mean Mr. Hanky*

Mr. A is out of town at the moment trapping Sharp-tailed grouse for a region-wide effort to reintroduce these birds into central Washington state. I miss him when he leaves for these traps, but he makes an effort to call periodically when he finds himself in an area with reception. Yesterday at work he calls with one express purpose. There’s a tone of glee in his voice and he seems very excited to share this news with me. What is he so anxious to tell me, you ask?

That he pooped in the woods. Yep, #2 outdoors. I may need to back up here a little (no pun intended) to explain why my dear hubbie would think to call me with this news and why it’s news he thinks I’d like to hear.

To hear the hubbie tell it, I should have been a bioligst for one reason only: I’m overly interested in scat. Scat being the term biologists, hikers, and hunters use for animal poop. The fact that it sounds a lot like shat is just a bonus. I joke that one of the interdisciplinary courses I proposed and taught with a colleague at UNR on urban wildlife issues came into existence over a piece of poop. She and I were out hiking at Pyramid Lake and came upon some coyote scat. We both started looking at curious what it had eaten last, how fresh it was, etc. In our exhuberence we looked at each other and said, “We need to get students outside, learning about their neighbors. They could learn so much from just handling scat!”  We never got the chance to make them handle poop, but poop was in fact where it all started.

Mr. A also jokes about what he thinks is my unusual interest in my dog and kid’s poops. What? It helps me know how healthy they are, or if they’ve eaten something I really shouldn’t feed them again. I should also probably mention that Mr. A, myself, and a number of our friends have gotten into fairly lengthy conversations about the best method of relieving oneself in the woods. There are various techniques after all to relieve the splash factor, or just to get more comfortable. Squatting is great but what if you’re going to be there awhile and your legs are sore from hiking all day. Practical problems like this need to be addressed, right? Or maybe it’s just the immature kid in me that jumps on any reason to talk about bodily functions. Whatever the reason, Mr. A takes childish delight in reporting to me how his GI tract is doing.  (And for the record, no, the interest in my kid and dog’s poop does not extend to my hubbie.)

This phone call, however, was just too much. I spent the rest of the day giggling just thinking about it. My boy called for the express purpose of telling me he shit in the woods. How could I not blog about that?

*For relatives and readers not familiar with the Comedy Central show “South Park” this is a reference to Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo. Irreverent but hilarious.

Tranquil Thursday

Knitted Together, or Stitch n’ Bitch by Mail

When I lived in Reno, there was a group of us that used to meet every Friday afternoon at a coffee shop to enjoy a cup of coffee or tea and each other’s company, and to knit.  Whether it was girls, or co-ed (yes, we did have a couple male knitters) we all sat around knitting (or crocheting, or embroidering, or sewing ripped clothes) and talked about life – good, bad, past & present. Some called it our knitting circle. Personally, I prefer the term the term used by the friend who taught me how to knit: stitch n’ bitch. It’s the most honest descriptor I’ve heard.  Because really that’s what we did.

Some weeks there were only two of us, sometimes 6-8; sometimes the conversation was light-hearted, sometimes it was a vent seesion where we, well, bitched about our week. I think it appealed to the multi-tasker in me. I could talk to friends, and have something to show for it at the end – a hat, a scarf, a stuffed animal for my niece. As cliche as it sounds I always left that group feeling more relaxed and nurtured than I did when I walked in the door. In essence, it was a weekly meeting of friends that left me smiling.

Eventually, our meetings faded away. And later I moved. But this last November, Chris, one of the women from this group, emailed me and told me about a neat idea she’d had: a Scarf Exchange. She had contacted knitters she knew and asked each of us to knit a hat or scarf and send it to her with details about the person who knitted it, the yarn used, etc.  Chris promised to photograph and then redistribute the goods. I thought she would just lay them out on a sheet and take pictures. I had no idea that she planned to take them outside and present them in such an artisitc way (see above). In some of her photos, scarves are hung like snakes, wrapped and dangling from branches. The look almost alive! I should have expected no less from such a creative and caring woman who specializes in examining the relationships between nature and culture. It was a neat way to reconnect with people. I get all warm and fuzzy thinking about it. And when I put the hat on too.

The Language Bridge

I just listened to a story on NPR that talks about the sensual experience that comes along with spoken language. It asserts that language you speak changes your experince of the world, and how you think and feel about people, places, and things. The irony is that this is an idea I heard quite some time ago and something I have actually argued with former students and collaegues (but mostly my husband) for years.

Here’s the story: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=102518565

Conducted by Lera Boroditsky, an assistant psychology professor at Stanford University, the study asks Spanish speakers and German speakers to examine objects – a table, a chair, a bridge – and name them. In the instance of the bridge the articles differ between these two languages: in Spanish “bridge” is masculine, and in German it’s feminine. Next the study asked participants to give three adjectives to describe the bridge. The German speakers chose words like “beautiful,” and “elegant,” while the Spanish speaker chose “sturdy,” and “towering.” Her hypothesis is that Spaniards and Germans see and experience things differently as a result of their language.

Boroditsky suggests that the grammar we learn from our parents, whether we realize it or not, affects our sensual experience of the world. Spaniards and Germans can see the same things, wear the same cloths, eat the same foods and use the same machines. But deep down, they are having very different feelings about the world about them.

To test this theory she invented her own language, one that randomly assigns masculine and feminie articles to various nouns, and then taught it to English-speaking participants. After being drilled in the language she tested to see if there was a similar effect on descriptive adjectives based on the gender assigned to that noun. And the answer was yes!

I find this absolutely fascinating. Language shapes and defines our world, but that it affects how we feel about both natural and constructed landscapes is, I think, both amazing and underappreciated. It may not seem like a big deal. But think about it, people get attached to objects. The first stereotype that comes to mind is Americans and their cars. But the list is exhaustive - a business exec and his cell phone, a fashionista and her shoes,  a triathlete and her bike, an electrician and his tool belt. But if those objects have certain qualities we assign to them, which shape not only our attitudes toward those objects but also our experiences with those objects and by extension our jobs and activities. In essence, language dictates how we see and experience the world. And it does so in much more subtle ways than our cultural traditions and norms.

The implications for me are even more interesting when I extend them to environmentalism. Whether or not a developer or city planner chooses to preserve more trees in a proposed development might very well depend on how they perceive a “tree.” Likewise, a company might have a different attitude toward dumping in the ocean versus on land based on how they feel about each (off the top of my head, I kow that ocean in Spanish is masculine “el mar” while land is feminine “la tierra.”) Would it make a difference? Who knows? But the fact that it might brings all new challenges to educating the public about sustainability.  And decision-making processes that one would typically perceive as objective, suddenly become much more gendered. I realize that this is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the ramifications of this study but it’s a fun place to begin a conversation. Anyone else have any thoughts about it? Let me know. The idea that multi-lingual people perceive the world differently has always fascinated me.

And on a totally unrelated note, I have tons of pictures of fun stuff we’ve done to post. I will get to these soon. I promise. Given that some of these go back to the Towhead’s birthday in January I need to get my ample behind moving. I’m working on it Nana, I swear