River Guide Days

This seems like years ago, yet some days it only seems like yesterday. Well it was years ago, I'm just getting old! My sister is now a river guide at the same camp I was, and the other day she called me. I was at a fair with my family, so I couldn't hear her very well. I discovered she was asking me what the name of my boat was. I told her, and there was a pause. I assumed she was disappointed because what she thought was my boat, wasn't. I mean, I was there 15 years ago and the scouts beat up those boats pretty good. Then she said, "its here. Your boat. There are a few letters missing but I could tell it said 'Canned Corn.'" [Corn was my nickname in college...on the other side of my boat, I had written "Invictus" for a favorite poem]  Whoa. I had a little moment, right there. I think she did too. She told me before she left that being a river guide where I had been meant something to her, that somehow she felt closer to me by being somewhere I had been, since we never went to the same school (incidentally, my dad also guided there as a youth).

Of course this has brought back a flood of great memories.

When I was 20, I signed up to be a river guide for the Boy Scouts on the Snake River. I had just finished my sophomore year in college and was recovering from a bad break-up. :) (funny to think of now) I also had just discovered I had an ulcer and acid reflux disease.  I had spent three quarters of a year training my guts out so I could realize my dream of succeeding in college track, but I damaged my hamstring during training (twice, once before indoor season and once before outdoor) and had to redshirt. 

I was kind of in a bad way when I got there, emotionally and physically. The first few days were bleepety bleep bleep hard. :) I had bruises the size of dinner plates. The water was freezing cold and fast and scary (and I was in it a lot because I was falling out of my boat a lot). I wanted to go home something fierce. But I stuck it out, and it was the most fun summer I've ever had. It turned out to be hugely therapeutic for me, being in gorgeous untamed country, learning to love the river, and being crazy and bonding with some crazy great people.

Here are some of the things we did that summer:

Jumped out of a tree at night from 50 feet up into an ice cold river, only the moon to light the night  (yes, that was thrilling, I'm also glad now I can still walk); tied a board to a bridge with a rope and "surfed,"; had the craziest food fights ever-- chasing eachother with ketchup and mustard, grabbing globs of mayonnaise with our fingers on our way through bewildered eating campers (then we threw dirt at eachother, it stuck great to all the condiments); drove to the top of a beatiful mountain on a crazy scary road, it rained all night and we had to hike out, leaving the cars; took trips to Jackson together; did "guide runs"-- where we just went down the river together, usually degenerating into water fights, pulling eachother out of boats, etc.; went for hikes; practiced eskimo roll in kayaks at a local hot springs; went to church together (I ended up in the MTC with 3 guides); made up crazy names for things-- when we had to use the bathroom we'd say "I need to go fight for America." (pardon the immature irreverence, we didn't think about this then)  We went down the river one day with ugly dresses we bought at Salvation Army.

But the healing that I needed most came when I was alone, floating through pines and past swirling eddies.  It reinforced a love of nature, strengthened my relationship with God, and changed my view of life, in the sense that I realized I didn't just have to choose the standard choices I had always thought I'd choose. 

I dug out some old pictures and took some pictures of the pictures.

I'm the second from the right, next to the guy with the paddle.

I'm third from left.

Crazy people!~  I'm the one wearing the red shorts.

This guy is sticking his whole head in a bowl of either whipped cream of mashed potatoes, can't remember which.  We had some great food fights in this kitchen.  These days we also cleaned the bathrooms with a garden hose (one of our off day jobs).  At the time, I thought, some day I'm going to have a kitchen that can withstand huge food fights and bathrooms I can clean with a hose.  Ha ha. 

(I'm in the center toward the back)
I have poem I wrote when I was 20, I'll share it later this week.  Don't want to overdose anyone.

Warning: Something About This Song Is a Bit Fishy

To read a very fishy (funny) story see here.

Walking, Er, Teetering

Emerson is walking!  I thought I'd feel so sad, but it is SO CUTE!  Bowlegged and teeter-y on his little chubby legs.  I wish I had a good video.  This picture will have to suffice.

Rub-a-Dub-Dub

I got these for toys or books or laundry....not sure which yet, got them really inexpensively at my grocery store.  Who knew the kids would have so much fun in them.  I love the ones where Emerson is so happy or the ones when the girls are trying to "help" him in with them.

Driveway Dads

I wrote this poem for my husband, who has kindly supported my efforts to be a good mom.  He has made a lot of sacrifices too so I could live my dream (cheesy or out-of-date as it may sound) of being a mom.  He has lived with: very sub-par dinners for quite a while now, messy house, unorganized closets and pantries, unironed shirts; he's carried the weight of the bills, the yard, and snow removal on his shoulders; and most of all, has gone to work each day...solid as a rock, even though there are many many other places he'd rather be.  

He may hide it, but he is a sweet dad who is very sentimental and loves these kids a lot.

Oh, yeah, and I'm glad I have a treadmill.   :)  This poem isn't perfect, as usual, suggestions appreciated.

Driveway Dads

Running solo today,

Early winter morning,

So cold my nostrils frozen,

My face raw with biting cold.

Alone,

Crunching through fog on the icy road,

Most houses dark and sleeping—

Still.

But here, a white pick-up

Puffing gray smoke into the night;

I imagine it as

A caged beast,

Warming its hands with its breath,

Shifting its weight back and forth,

Trying for warmth in the acrid night;

Waiting, there,

For

Dad

To brave the dark and ice

On his way to the Western Front.

Soon another truck, chortling

In wait,

And another,

Humming through the darkness.

One by one

The waiting ones

Stand up on their haunches,

Racing to

Pass me in the night,

Their tail lights blurring

Through the fog,

Swallowed up by the pitch.

Now it’s lightening,

As a new neighborhood yawns

Awake.

Here a dad

Puffing piles of soft

White snow

As his shovel

Grates on the ice below,

Pshhuk-puff, pshhuk-puff.

Now a rust-haired dad

Pulls a bright blue

Recycle bin

From the road with a

Smile and a

Good morning!

As a bright blue day

Shines out

Of the frigid cold,

I return home to see

My driveway

Dusted off in neat lines,

Trash receptacle replaced,

And my husband

Hurrying off to his

Waiting car

To brave a new day for us--

Without

A word.

Also, check out this cute parody for fathers day from one of my new favorite blogs, Design Mom.

Or this post I wrote about my own dad.

Father's Day Idea and New Blog

Kaedon introduced me to Wordle-- an online resource that allows you to input a bunch of words and then organize them in clouds. Its quite fun. I just made this one for Miguel for Father's Day:



We're going to paste the word cloud on a piece of scrapbook paper and give it to him-- its all of the positive things we think of that describe him. The more words you use, the better the word cloud looks.

Here is one we made for Emerson:



I started a new blog, I'm kind of embarrassed to admit. I wanted to work on my parenting, so its sort of a resolutions journal that tracks my progress. Based loosely on The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, I'm working on a new resolution each month. So if you want to be bored to tears or know way more about me and my weaknesses than you ever wanted to know, come and visit: www.5for50project.blogspot.com. Thanks, always, for your kind comments and friendship.

Update:

Holy Moly Part 2

I'm posting this at the request of Kaedon....apparently I've left some things out...And some just happened yesterday!

I started playing the organ prelude yesterday and looked down to lovingly gaze on my brood.  Then what did my wondering eyes behold?  Ava, with a full jar of bubbles, contentedly blowing them around the church and Kaedon frantically waving his arms to get my attention, mouthing the word "bubbles" while pointing at Ava  (where did she get those?).  Maia, with her purple velvet winter dress and star-spangled shoes.  (when I say get your shoes on and get in the car, I don't always check to see which shoes they are wearing.  We went on a short vacation once and when we got there one of our kids didn't have any shoes on)

Ava has a 7'1 teacher, who teaches with his wife, who is average size.  Ava calls them "Big Bob" and "Little Bob."  And she is super enamored with "Big Bob"-- probably because he is the nicest Sunbeam teacher ever. 

Ava shouts from the car at ex-nursery teacher (she spent half her day in nursery yesterday without anyone noticing she wasn't supposed to be there)-- "you're a poopy rocket ship!"  Time to speed away.

Evidence to the contrary, Ava is actually very sweet, kind, and loving. She keeps life spiced with excitement for us.

Maia giving way too much information to her substitute primary teacher, who happens to be one of my friends where we live now.  When I picked her up, my friend laughed and said Maia told her she found me praying in the kitchen one day.  She told her her mom is going to die if we don't all do more to help her out, and her large, beautiful eyes were deadly serious-- she really believes I could die now if no one helps me.