Friday, August 19, 2011

So Long, Summer

After weeks of griping about it, it appears that all my murmurings and mutterings have caught up with me... summer is officially over. Well, for our family, anyway. It seems like it’s only been a week since I wrote about the beginning. Has it really been almost 3 months?

You’ll be happy to know that all the myriad crayons, pencils, glue sticks, scissors, and folders have been properly labeled... the Mario backpack was found, and both backpacks are packed and sitting on the floor by the front door, ready to be grabbed in the midst of the early morning rush. Orientation is over, teachers have been met (incidentally- Ashton’s 2nd grade teacher taught Jeremy in 5th grade. One wonders why she’s still teaching after that...), and classrooms located.

As for me, I’ve said my goodbyes to summer, with only a little regret. I’d like to give a little nod to all the things that have helped make this summer happy for me:


These albums, which have been my summer soundtrack:







  Songs worth repeating:
North Country Blues
Boots of Spanish Leather



Songs worth repeating:
Marching Bands of Manhattan
Brothers on a Hotel Bed



Songs worth repeating:
Don't Worry Baby
God Only Knows



Songs worth repeating:
Furious
Deep Cries Out



Songs worth repeating:
Still Saving Me
Immortal Invisible



Songs worth repeating:
My Father's Father
20 Years



Songs worth repeating:
Perfect Opening Line
Star, Star



Songs worth repeating:
Walking Far From Home
Godless Brother in Love



Songs worth repeating:
Sun and Moon
Heaven Fall Down



Songs worth repeating:
Pretty
Dreams



Songs worth repeating:
A Stick, A Carrot, and String
The King Beetle on a Coconut Estate


My constant staple- solid colored layering camis... they got me through the sweltering heat:



I’ve read too many books to count this summer, but here are a few that stuck with me, requiring extensive discussion, and in some cases, rereading:





Summer wouldn't be
summer without my
friend Elizabeth.




There are 3 in this
series currently out.
Nothing better than
hot faeries, right?



This book reminded me
a little of The Shack. I
definitely recommend
it!





My mom lent me these
from her Kindle. I read
the whole 6 book series
in 3 days. And then re-
read them. No joke.



Another childhood staple.



This book (series- there are
5 so far) required exten-
sive midnight discussions
with my brother Ben.



I really think Stephanie
and I could be BFF's.


These movies:




Let's just say I have
a healthy interest in
The Avengers now.



I liked the first one better.



Well, you all know how
I feel about this one. I
wrote a whole blog
about it.



I don't think I even need
to say anything concern-
ing Captain Jack.



Hi-freaking-larious.



I read this book last summer,
and couldn't put it down.
The movie was
incredible. I shouldn't
have even bothered
wearing makeup.



And finally, some of my favorite photos from this summer (if you've already seen some of these, bear with me. There's a reason they're my favorites) :

































So thanks, Summer, for making me smile. See you next year.


Now bring on Christmas!!!


Tuesday, August 16, 2011

School Days

School is starting for my two oldest kids next Monday. That means it’s errand time at the little box house. Today we did haircuts. Well, a haircut for Ashton, and a virtually non-existent trim for Chloe. She wavered for a few minutes on whether she wanted it all hacked off again- last March, for her very first haircut, we chopped off 13 inches and donated it to Locks of Love. I won’t lie. It was heart wrenching to say goodbye to all that hair. All I could think of was the very ends of that hair being the hair she was born with, the hair I’d first put in tiny Velcro bows, the hair that had curled around her fat little neck... But I’d do it again, if she wanted to. Today, in the end, she decided to keep it long for Daddy’s sake. I’ll never understand the deal with dads and long hair. The first time my mom tried to trim my almost thigh-length hair, at the age of six, I squirmed mercilessly... causing her to have to keep cutting it to keep it even. In the end, she ended up taking about 7 inches off. I remember her crying, worried about what my dad would say. She laid the hair out on a sales paper- it was K-Mart, I remember, advertising a sale on bikes- and left it on the washer for him to see when he came home. He cried. I remember it. The whole “a woman’s hair is her glory” thing, I think. Lord knows, I haven’t embraced THAT particular scripture, having hacked off my hair at the age of fifteen and never gone back.

The rest of this week will be spent searching for an elusive Mario book bag- I knew I should have bought the one when I saw it, but I thought I had plenty of time. And now they’re all gone. Then packing said book bags, labeling folders and pencil boxes and every. single. Crayola in four 24 set boxes. That’s right. School requires that every crayon, every pencil, eraser, and glue stick be labeled with the child’s name. I suppose I understand to a degree, but it still seems a little extreme, to have to sit on my couch for an hour with a fine tipped Sharpie, laboriously writing “Ashton” and “Chloe” on four sets of crayons.

Part of me is ready for school to start back (the other part is screaming about my late nights being taken away and replaced with early mornings). My kids have been undeniably restless, Ashton especially. He gets bored so easily, and irritated at being the only boy- we’ve talked about this before, remember? There’s nothing I can do on that front, no matter how much he begs for a baby brother. He’s just out of luck there. So, school is his only other option to hang out with “the guys”.

Chloe, of course, has been asking for the past 3 weeks when she gets to start kindergarten. I know she’s excited... but I can’t really picture her learning anything. She’s such a little butterfly. It’s hard for me to imagine her coming home to do her homework, practice her reading... more than likely she’ll tell me what so-and-so was wearing, or how many people told her she looked cute that day. Not that she’s ignorant, by any means. Just... flighty. And used to playing the damsel in distress. She’ll always- ALWAYS- let someone else do the work for her. I’ll have to be careful with that particular little character flaw. She knows if she plays helpless long enough, I’ll get frustrated and do it for her. See? Not ignorant. Quite the opposite.

What are you doing to get ready for school? Hopefully not labeling 100 crayons... but if you are, rest assured that you and I are sharing the back to school experience.


Monday, August 8, 2011

Not-So-Biker Chick



Okay, the final installment in our anniversary trip... I realize this has been a long, drawn out process... What can I say, I’m a busy lady. Thanks for sticking with me.

Tuesday, July 26th was our actual anniversary... we headed out to the Virginia Creeper Trail to ride bikes. The trail is a former railroad track, with 40 some bridges cutting through it. I’m not sure how long it is- we rode 17 miles of it, most of it downhill, thank God- but we heard from locals that it’s twice as long as that.

Here’s the thing. I hadn’t ridden a bike since I was maybe 13. I know they say once you know how, you never forget... that’s true in the sense that I didn’t have a problem actually peddling, balancing, etc. But I must remind you that just the day before, I’d spent two hours on a horse- Jack Skellington butt, remember? It didn’t help that the bike with the cushy seat was broken, so I got just a regular old skinny seat (I would have much preferred one as pictured above- basket and all). Also, seeing as I hadn’t ridden a bike in probably 15 years (man is THAT depressing... I’m 15 years older than 13...), I was nervous. Lack of confidence doesn’t bode well in a 17 mile bike ride. The trail is actually 2 miles away from the place we rented the bikes from, meaning we had to ride 2 miles on the open road in the mountains. Oh yeah- and my last bike was a banana seat beach cruiser type bike... I had no idea what to do with a 10 speed with hand brakes. Jeremy had to remind me almost immediately not to brake with my feet. Whoops. Word from the wise: don’t use your favorite elephant print TOMS to brake.

Our starting off was shaky... I wasn’t prepared for the downhill grade, wasn’t prepared to see houses and trucks flying by me with no control over my speed (this was before I remembered the hand brake thingies, although I’m sure they have a technical term), and I definitely wasn’t prepared for the little Jack Russell Terrier that ran alongside me and made me run into the side of the mountain. He wasn’t vicious... I’m sure living on that road, he sees plenty of bikers heading for the trail, and most likely he just meant to keep me company. Regardless, I braked with my shoes again because of him... and fell over against an embankment type thing. Not my finest hour. Jeremy, of course, had to show off his mad BMX skills and “sweet jumps” on every little twist, turn, and bump in the road. He used to “ride bikes” in the extreme sense, back in his heyday.

We finally made it onto the trail... the whole 17 miles down I felt like Maria in The Sound of Music, the Do Re Mi song where they’re riding the bikes under the trees. That’s what it looked like, minus the lederhosen.  And the singing... that only existed inside my head.

The trail is beautiful. Cool, quiet, bathed in sunlight filtered green and blue through the trees. Just the sound of tires running through black gravel. Occasional waterfalls, swimming holes, bridges, and old railway ties piled on the side of the road. We stopped at Green Cove, the original station turned museum. The man in the museum told us the station had been in the same family for 100 years, and had been donated to the state in the late 70’s:






This cracks me up: "Children call it the 'Fun Laxative!'"






Side note: On the shuttle back up the mountain, we happened to meet the family that owned the station- they live in a huge house right next to it, that I didn’t remember seeing at all.

The ride was uneventful, mostly. Well, maybe not uneventful; peaceful, anyway. We stopped at a few streams, at one of which my necklace popped right off my neck and wedged between some rocks (I caught it!), and another one at which Jeremy took amusement in encouraging some kids to jump off the rocks into the water, even though their mother was telling them to be careful. Ever the antagonist. A few miles from the end of the trail, we passed a construction sign warning us that there were men at work. I told Jeremy we needed to take a picture of it to prove that we were, after all, still in Virginia, the only place where they would have construction crews working in the middle of a retired train track on the top of a mountain. Jeremy scoffed at my idea... until we rounded the corner and saw this:





Proof that we never left Virginia



We spent about 15 minutes at this detour, chatting with a local man who rode the trail 3 times a week, up AND down. Jeremy was fired with the notion to ride out the rest of the trail to Abingdon, or at the least I could pick him up there in 2 or 3 hours if I didn’t want to go with him. I got him away from the crazy local man really quickly after that.

By the time we got to the bottom of the trail, my tailbone was hurting so bad from my non-banana seat bike that it was knocking the wind out of me every time I shifted. I don’t know how people ride bikes everyday (especially this guy, who I've been following on Facebook for a few months. Lord bless him!). I was never so happy to see a highway in my life. Not that I didn’t love the trail, or the time spent with my showing off husband. But when Jeremy said something along the lines of: “Oh man, I could do that again tomorrow!”, my response was not only no, but- you guessed it- H-E-double hockey sticks no. I don’t think my hindquarters will ever be the same.

But maybe, next year, if I could get my banana seat beach cruiser, I might risk it again, Jack Russell Terriers notwithstanding.


Monday, August 1, 2011

Making New Friends

On Monday, the second day of our trip, Jeremy and I woke up early(ish), packed a lunch, and headed out to ride some horses! I’ve never ridden a horse in my life. Here’s something I learned about Jeremy this week: He loves horses. He wants to own one. For some reason, he never talks about it, because he thinks people might think it’s girly. But then he said, “Any guy who thinks loving horses is girly has never ridden a horse.”

The trail we rode is in a town called Troutdale. We got lost, then we thought we got lost but found out we were going the right way, after we stopped and asked directions from a man mowing his mountain sized yard. He told us to turn around and head back the way we came, and we “couldn’t mee-iss it”. Well, we had in fact missed it once already. When we finally found it, we saw Doug (the man who owns the horses) hiking out of the trees to fetch us. We waited for another group that was also riding, a mom and her 14 year old boy and girl twins. Once we were all there, Doug led us back through the woods, across a pit of black mud and a creek with slippery rocks. He held my hand when we crossed and chided Jeremy for crossing without me.

When we got to the clearing, we found a red horse trailer with 7 horses tied to it, and Doug’s brother Billy camped out in his sedan waiting for us. “I’m not sleeping, I’m just waiting!”, Billy told us. Doug sized us all up and paired us with our horses. He looked at Jeremy, then at a horse. Looked back at Jeremy, then at another horse. He finally told him, “You get on Fluffy, here.” Fluffy was the biggest horse of the lot. He was also chubby, blond, and turned out to be gassy. Coincidence? I think not. He led me over to a black horse with skinny legs. He must have sensed my penchant for monochrome. Billy helped me mount, and I asked him, “What’s his name?” He responded with, “This is Killer.” Well, that inspires confidence. Turns out he was joking, and my horse’s name was Rambo. Which really doesn’t seem much better when I think about it.

Rambo and I, about to hit the trail
 Billy and Doug helped everyone else onto their horses, giving us instructions like, “His mouth is sensitive- all you’ll have to do is tug on the bridle real gentle like”, and “Keep your horse off of Tess’s back... she likes to kick out if you get too close”.

I knew the second I sat in that saddle that I was in trouble. Now, I wouldn’t call myself scrawny by any means. But my butt it as bony as Jack Skellington’s. No cushion, whatsoever. Sitting in the saddle, it felt like it was nothing but skin stretched over bone. Doug told me not to worry, that I’d “go numb after about an hour”. Well. Lovely. I gritted my teeth and made up my mind to have fun regardless of any saddle sores I might end up with.

Doug led the way, with Jeremy right behind him, and me behind Jeremy. I bonded with Rambo... I could read him like a book. For instance, I knew he was pissed that he wasn’t leading. He kept shoving Fluffy’s rear and huffing when he wouldn’t move. He was clearly frustrated being third in line. Doug told me that the horse he was riding and Rambo take turns leading, but lately he’d been letting the other horse lead. Rambo was clearly disgruntled by this fact.

 We rode for 2 hours on a trail that was a train track in a former life, used for hauling logs out of the logging camps. My extroverted husband chatted with Doug the whole time. I mostly just enjoyed the scenery, but I caught snippets of their conversation- I learned that Doug’s wife passed away 10 years ago, after “35 good years”... that he has a slew of grandkids, and he calls all his granddaughters “cowgirls”, and that he had 60 horses but they got too expensive to feed so he sold a couple of Appaloosa foals, and now he has 43 horses (I want an Appaloosa foal!!). I also learned that he was planning on picking the wild blackberries we saw growing on the trail and going home to make a cobbler to go with the ice cream he already had churning at home.

Above and below are pictures of my view
for 2 solid hours.

When the tour was over, it was kind of hard to say goodbye, for some reason. We hung around and talked, and laughed, and took pictures:

The two blonds- JT and Fluffy




Our horses' rear ends

Doug and I





and Jeremy promised that we would come back. We picked our way back across the creek, and hopped in our car. We got back out on the road and drove about half a mile, when Jeremy suddenly slammed on the brakes and said, “Oh! There it-! Wait! You have to see this! Get the lunch box!” He parked the car and led me off the road, down a steep trail to this:









We sat and ate lunch here, took pictures, and just talked and relaxed. It was wonderful- until we tried to leave, and we realized how wet the rocks really were. Jeremy slipped and fell... and when he got back up and tried to help me down, I slipped and fell... and slid 10 feet down the slope. We’re all about one-up manship, folks, remember? I landed on my elbow and then my butt... but thankfully my camera was safe!

When we got back to our cabin, I immediately took some pain medicine for my injured bum, and fell asleep for 3 hours. I woke up so stiff and sore that I was groaning with each step, but it was worth it. I went out on the back deck while Jeremy started prepping dinner... and made friends with these guys, who happened to be our neighbors:








Also, this guy, but he was more of a friend from afar:


He was corralled in a separate pen at the bottom of the hill, and he HATED- I mean, HATED- that the other two came up to visit us. He wheezed, and huffed, and neighed. I never figured out whether he was warning them (as we all know goody-two (four?)-shoes are wont to do), or if he was just pissed off that he couldn't come visit too. Whatever the reason, he made me giggle. He spent every single one of their visits like this.

I learned, about an hour before we left to come home, that our buddies' names are Huey and Farrah (I never found out pouty horse's name)... but I called them Neville and Bellatrix up until then (She looks like a Bellatrix, doesn't she? If you could have seen her hair...). Huey, the donkey, especially loved Jeremy. He would come and visit every half hour or so, sauntering up to the fence and braying until Jeremy would come out and pet him and talk to him. They were one of the highlights of my trip.

Right on the other side of the cabin, we saw these guys:





But they didn’t want to make friends. They mostly ignored me.

All in all, our first full day away was a huge success. Aside from the getting lost, acquiring saddle sores, and sliding down a waterfall, that is. Even those ended up being part of the fun. Except the falling part... that hurt. My elbow is still swollen. But the new friends we made were definitely worth rubbing swollen elbows with.

More to come!