My Mom is Magic

Today is my mom's birthday, which is a totally appropriate situation in which to celebrate her many skills.  My mom is a very talented woman, so talented I sometimes thing she is magic (I'm tempted to believe she may be evil, but she uses these talents for good, so I think she's probably just magic).  There's really no way to list all of her accomplishments (she's held some jobs, got some college degrees, let lots of children live...), so I'll just stick to the 5 skills that have made the biggest difference in my life.

Me and Mom, 12 hours after I was born.  That's when my mom left the hospital.  She's tough stuff.  

I'm very happy she let all of us live, seeing as we've been fighting formal portraits for almost 30 years now.  

1.  Surprise skirt lining!  My mom is an incredibly talented seamstress, she's made many of my friends and siblings wedding dresses, all of my formal dresses, and matching outfits for my siblings and I for many years.

We always get matching Christmas jammies.  

Lots of ladies in lots of bright colors.  

 Not only is she good at assembling clothes, she's also good at picking patterns.  Over the years her dress making whims have produced all of my favorite clothes, including this very nice looking skirt with a surprise red lining!  There's no end to the joy surprise lining has brought me, whenever the lining pokes out it reminds me that my mom loves me and calls me Sunshine.

2.  Powers of healing.  We older siblings give my mom a lot of grief over how little sympathy we got when we were sick as young children.  We had to be bleeding or puking to get out of school/church and we were certainly never offered drugs.  Then the younger ones went through grade school and they get drugs whenever they're ill and they can take days off frivolous things (yes, Psych marathon is frivolous!).  However, we older siblings have proven to be remarkably good at avoiding the hospital, so perhaps all the with-holding made us more resilient.

Despite holding this grudge, I still know that my mom will come nurture me back to health whenever I need it, even though I live an hour away.  One day after I moved out of my parents house I got very sick, so sick I was crawling to the bathroom to puke.  I waited until I could get out of work and called my mom and whined "Mom, I can't stop throwing up, I need you."  And do you know what she did?  She came over to my apartment at 11:00 pm with Saltine crackers, popsicles and Coke to make me feel better.  And it worked!  Whenever I get sick I'm pretty sure my mom can sense it, because she usually sends a text message reminding me that she loves me and is willing to come get me if I need her.  Magic I tell you.

3.  Food, so much good food.  My mom is an excellent, prolific cook.  Staying at other people's house growing up was always a little worrisome because we thought me might starve to death in places that didn't eat as often as we ate at home.  And the things we ate at home were awesome!  Growing up I think my favorite meals were Tater-tot Casserole and most excellent Sunday Pot-roast.  But because my mom is awesome and adaptable, when I became a vegetarian she adjusted her cooking techniques and started making the most delicious curries our family has ever seen.

My first solid food, February 1984

The best cakes ever made, December 1988

Mom made me a wedding cake for my 25th birthday, because she's great like that.  

Thanksgiving the way we do it.  

Holidays with my family are a great time, in part because we just eat all day long.  All the sugar and fat make us quite jolly.  And kind of nappy.

4.  Tickling the ivories.  In addition to cultivating skills in sewing, general crafting, and cooking, my mom can also play the piano really well.  We used to play these awesome Oscar and Hammerstien duets, as well as a duet to "Memory" from Cats that will always hold a fond place in my heart, but perhaps my favorite piano memory was the time my mom played the piano without part of her finger.  One day while putting together a quilt, my mom sliced the side of her index finger with a rotary knife; don't worry, we picked up the piece and she got it sewn back on.  However, this slicing lead to many stitches and quite a large bandage, which was unfortunate because my mom said she would play the piano for a mission farewell in church.  Never one to back down from a commitment, she played through an entire 8-page song in front of the congregation, the only help she needed was me to turn the pages for her.  Hard core.  And she still plays the piano, it's great.

5.  Magic purse.  I mentioned earlier that my family loves food, and that love plays into this most magical skill of all.  My mom gets a lot of grief for the gigantic purse she carries around.  Really, last I checked it was 2 feet long and a foot tall and wide (and brightly colored, which is great).  I'm still not sure what goes into the purse, but I do see her fish out her wallet pretty easily, so I imagine it's an effective case.  Several years ago, while I was in college (and mom was in college, because she's rad like that), I met up with my mom somewhere and I was just famished.  I thought I might die and I told my mom that, and you do know what she did?  SHE PULLED TWO SOFT SHELL TACOS OUT OF HER PURSE!  It was the most magical things I've ever seen in my entire life.  Not only was it enough food to staunch my hunger, but it was good food, not like old purse food you would think might come out of a bag.  That's because it's a purse that belongs to my magical mom.

You might have noticed I'm kind of reaching for pictures with my mom in them.  While she did an excellent job documenting all of these pictures in my scrapbooks, she was good at hiding behind the camera.  Thank goodness for cell phone cameras:

Pretending she doesn't like the dog.  

Being beautiful

Happy birthday Mom!  I sure love you lots.  Thanks for letting us live and being such a phenomenal example of being awesome!

Adventure Inspiration

There's been a lot of field work happening lately, but I'll get to writing about that adventure later.  Right now, I've just a got to share this image my sister sent me.

That's my nephew, celebrating a recent ascent.  I love everything about this picture, but most of all, I love that smile.  I hope to enjoy more things at that level of happiness.  I can't even describe how inspiring this picture is (I hope Liz sees it that way too, but I imagine she's more frightened by just how skillful and daring this kid is).

Turns out, that kid has some inspiring siblings, pictured below.

Yeah, these guys know how to live life well.  As always, thanks Liz, for sending me pictures.  I love them so much.

And finally, I'm inspired to go on more adventures because Brent's awesome mom, Jan, can make them into a cake.  The delightful cake pictured below was based on our most recent trip to Independence Monument. The cake itself was delicious, but also featured real rocks, interpretive signage, and Lego climbers carefully selected to represent Brent and I (Brent with backwards baseball cap and beard, me with my broad-brimmed Scientist hat).  Everyone should have someone as great as Jan in their lives.

So there you have it.  The things currently inspiring me to go on another adventure.  As soon as all this field work business is done with (hopefully just one more week!), I'll be headed to City of Rocks or Maple Canyon or Canyonlands or Little Cottonwood Canyon or.....

My Dad

Today is my dad's birthday.  He's getting old, but you totally couldn't tell it.  This time of year I get to celebrate both my parent's birthdays and their designated holidays (Mother's and Father's Days), and it always gets me reminiscing about how great my family is.  My family is the reason I am the way I am.  And I love that, because I can use it both as a compliment and an accusation.  

I'm the oldest of my parent's six kids.  As such, I'm the default favorite.  Aside from that default, I've decided I'm also my dad's favorite, and will make that case here.  Exhibit 1.  I was the first.  

Christmas 1983. 24 days old.  I think my dad still looks pretty young, but the youth displayed in this picture blows my mind.  My parents are cool.

1985.  I think our bond is evident.  

My dad is the one who encouraged all of my outdoors inclinations.  Some of my earliest memories are of hiking with my dad.  He also taught me the importance of taking pictures that show just how high up we are, because that might antagonize my mom.  But really, my dad was the one to encourage me to start adventuring, and that's been a really important part of my life.

Malans Peak, 1996.  

 My dad also encouraged me to learn how to be handy.  My dad has given me almost every tool I own, and I love that he continues to make sure we (or at least Scott and I) have everything we may need to take care of ourselves as we maintain our vehicles and live in cheap rental properties.  It's great.

Here we are using a table saw.  I was there when the table saw almost severed Dad's fingers.  Because of that I know the importance of lowering the saw blade before you do anything else with a table saw.  

My dad was my first softball and basketball coach.  In addition to giving me tools, my dad used to call me Becky Home-Ec-y to encourage better sports performance.  I think it was both encouragement/antagonization for sport's sake, but also to continue encouraging the influence of tools rather than glue guns and other "crafty" things in my life.  I suck at crafting, but I have some fond memories of sports.  

Jr Jazz Basketball 1999.  A good year for me.  

My dad also taught me how to ski.  Really, he taught all of us to ski, and I think that's awesome.  One of my favorite things during high school and college was our habit of ditching school for my birthday to go pre-season skiing.  Pre-climate change, we usually managed some pretty good skiing on December 1st.  Also of note, my dad occasionally suggested I ditch school for a good adventure, and I will always be grateful for that.  It's important to know when you need a break from the rat race.  December 1st is often that time I need a break.

Brighton 2000.  

Brighton pre-Christmas night skiing. 2007.  

99 Turns.  The Canyons.  2011.  

Some of my fondest memories with my Dad/Family happened on vacation.  Growing up, my parents ensured that we went on vacation somewhere cool every summer.  In the last few years I've really come to appreciate this, as I've realized taking a family of 8 on vacation means hours of crowded driving, many opportunities for children to run off cliffs or into raging rivers, and little sleep.  But it also means lots of fun and lasting memories.  The spot we've picked most often is Yellowstone National Park.  We first went in 1992 (which I have no good pictures of), then in 1997, 2003, and 2009.  And there were lessons from my dad along the way.  

Lesson #1.  Always remember bears.  

Yellowstone 1997.  Eating cantaloupe.  

The picture above demonstrates one of mine and my dad's favorite activities: eating.  On this particular occasion  we were eating cantaloupe, lots of cantaloupe.  You know what happens when you eat 2 pounds of cantaloupe right before bed?  You need to pee a lot.  However, because I was camping, I laid in bed for a lot longer than I should have, tossing and turning before recognizing that I should just get up and brave the cold so I could get some sleep.  On this particular vacation, my dad woke up too because he heard me tossing and turning, and exiting the tent and used it as a way to teach me about the threat of wildlife.  On my way back to my tent I heard a roar and some bushes moving and immediately thought "Bear!" and screamed something else (I forget what).  But it was no bear, it was my dad.  That's how his brain works.  And once my heart rate returned to normal, I thought it was hilarious.

Yellowstone 1997.  The crowded travel conditions.  

Yellowstone 1997.  

Family vacations also took us to Arches NP, San Diego and it's wildlife attractions, Bear Lake, and Fish Lake.  But we always came back to Yellowstone.  Our next trip was in 2003, and this is really the most memorable trip of all.  I was getting ready to start my sophemore year in college and somehow thought I was finished learning important life lessons on family vacations.  Wrong.  So wrong.

Lesson #2.  My family is the coolest.  

Yellowstone.  Tent.  2003.  

 Look at that picture.  Have you seen a happier group of 8 sharing the same tent?  No.  You haven't.  This is the point in my life where I realized my parents were so right, my friends had come and gone, but my siblings were really becoming my best friends.

Lesson #3.  The Swirling Vortex of Terror.  

This was a critical point in my relationship with my dad.  I've been reminding him for years about how he never taught Liz and I to swim.  Sure, we went to the pool and kind of learned later in life.  But when we were kids, fearless and more receptive to lessons, we weren't taught to swim.  We learned how to ride bikes instead.  Despite not really learning the swimming thing, my dad was always encouraging us to jump in bodies of water.  Flowing water, still water, it didn't matter.  We were always encouraged (read: taunted) to jump.  And we're still alive.  So I suppose the lesson is that my dad will never encourage us to do something that will kill us.  But I'm not sure I believe it.

Swirling Vortex of Terror.  Firehole River.  Yellowstone National Park.  2003.  

Anyways, on our trip to Yellowstone in 2003, we had the opportunity to float a short section of the Firehole River.  I had my reservations.  Sure, it was warm.  But it was also huge.  And I'm not a strong swimmer. After many taunts I watched Liz and Scott jump in and they did fine.  So I jumped in.  Then my shoes came off (because they were flip flops) and I got stuck in an eddy (which I had pointed out).  Terror ensued.  But eventually I came to the other side of the channel.  Where we had to jump again.  I watched everyone go in and pop up just fine, then casually float to the beach below.  But I jumped in (using my shoes as flippers), floated in a flailing manner to the beach, and emerged sure I had just gone through the most harrowing experience of my life. I dubbed that stretch of water the Swirling Vortex of Terror and my dad has never agreed with me about it.  However, as scared as I was, I'm glad my dad has always encouraged me to jump into things feet first.

Pre Vortex of Terror.  

This encouragement has continued since then.  When I come up with a really good vacation plan, my dad is always the one who says "That's a great idea."  And he's the one I know to check in with when I go on a trip, because his response is always "Have fun, send me pictures."  My dad is one of the coolest people I know, you all should meet him, because he's awesome, and he's made me the way I am (awesome).

Lesson #4.  Always wear a hat.

My dad understands the importance of wearing a broad-brimmed hat when you're out in the sun.  He actually gave me my awesome "scientist hat" when I went to him about my troubles out in the field.  With the previous message I may have implied that my dad encourages us to dangerous things, but he also consistently reminds us to wear sunblock and a hat (because statistically we kids are more likely to get skin cancer than to drown, and that's my dad's fault).  

Lesson #5.  My family is awesome.  

Yellowstone 2009.  The family.  

Awesomely Unproductive Weekend Pt. 1 - Climbing

This last weekend was the weekend before Dead Week, a chance to prepare for a difficult week full of final projects and other stresses, but it also seemed like a great weekend to head out of town for some rock climbing and running.  Brent was good enough to drive all the way to Colorado with me for some climbing in a new area and a race (by which I mean to say, my boyfriend is awesome).  The race I was running was outside Fruita, Colorado on the Kokopelli Trail loops, but this was also stunningly close to Colorado National Monument, which is full of awesome climbing, including towers (our personal favorite).

There were some near disasters once we got to Colorado.  Camping inside the monument was really expensive and they didn't allow campfires, so we sought some cheap to free sites outside, which lead us to this very soggy dirt road.

The road became soggy slowly, subtly  until we were sliding around in this quagmire.  

Brent and Phyllis handled it all like champs though. 

And I laughed and took pictures.  

Once we escaped that trap, we sought some other sites at higher elevations, which were far too cold.  Looking for these sites lead us to discover that my mud-covered, off-balance tires lead poor Phyllis (my Forester) to start shaking violently once we reached 40 miles an hour.  So I cried (I've taken my car, which I carefully selected and paid more than I wanted to for in hopes that it would last for a long time and I've taken it into the shop every six months for serious fixes and I always make bad car decisions and I have the worst luck as a car owner....).  Anyways, we decided to camp in a BLM parking lot that had a fire pit nearby and just sleep in the car.  This all worked remarkably well.  The fire sure tried to provide warm, but I think the cold, soggy ground took most of the heat; however, sleeping in the car was pretty dang warm, even if our sleeping fogged the windows up pretty severely.

The next day we decided to climb Otto's Route on Independence Monument.  Colorado National Monument was set aside as by President Taft in 1911 "for extraordinary examples of erosion."  No joke, you can read about it here.  One of these extraordinary examples in Independence Monument, a 450 foot monolith that stands separate from the sandstone walls around it, a result of the different rates of erosion between the layers of sandstone types that form the cliffs here.  The tower is made of Wingate sandstone, which is my favorite type of sandstone.

Independence Monument and Monument Canyon

Me and tower

Brent and tower.  

John Otto was the first Monument Superindendent, and he was awesome, he scaled as many monoliths as possible so he could plant American flags at all the high points.  He also surveyed in roads and trails to encourage everyone to visit the monument.  The road through the monument is pretty rad, but Otto's Route is far cooler.  In 1911, when the tower was first ascended, there weren't dynamic ropes, climbing shoes, or camming devices.  Instead, Otto and his climbing partners actually drilled pipes into the wall so they could get up.  The pipes are no longer there, but the holes they drilled are, and they make awesome hand holds.

My right hand is in one of the drilled holes.  Amazing hand holds.  

The hike in, while long (we're climbers, not mountaineers), was nice.  We got to see baby big horn sheep, which was first for me.  I've decided big horn sheep are my spirit animal, I would like to be able to jump from ledge to ledge as gracefully as they do, like its no sweat (literally and metaphorically).

Look closely, the big horn sheep are the things that aren't rocks or plants.  We almost walked right past them.  

The long hike was a good opportunity to take more pictures with the tower, look how big it is compared to me.  

Otto's Route is rated as a 5.8/5.9 climb, which is pretty low grade for such a tall tower.  It's also right in my range, and Brent encouraged me to lead this whole route.  I was nervous and tired, but it was awesome!  The first two pitches were mostly scrambling with a little chimney climbing (which was new for me on lead).  But the third pitch was downright difficult for me.  There was an off-width slightly overhung section that I would normally have backed down from, but my recent streak of confident climbing, Brent's encouragement, and those awesome drilled holds helped me through that pitch, after which I celebrated and had Brent take my picture.  

The perfectly round holes in the lower half of the picture are the drilled holds that make this section managable.  

Pitch 4 and 5 were pretty frightening.  The climbing was generally quite easily, but relied a lot of drilled holds, that I couldn't protect with a cam or chock (translation: I climbed for longer than I'd like without any gear to protect a fall, because there were no places to put such gear).

Run-out section that can't be protected, but the carved holds and steps make it do-able.  

 The top of the final pitch was the most technically challenging  because it is overhung and climbing over shelves like that is difficult.  However, there were hand holds drilled at the best places, and I finished.

 

And there was much celebration.

Then we climbed up to the very top of the tower and took many celebratory pictures.

 

You often find small potholes like this on top of cliffs, or on top of large towers like this.  They're pretty cool.  

The views on-route were amazing.  

Of course, after all that climbing, we had to rappel down.  It's tiring, but must be done (because the tops of towers are too windy to be comfortable camping places).  I spent the rest of the evening smiling and thanking Brent for encouraging me to step outside my comfort zone and climb this whole tower.

We camped that night in a completely different area, the North Desert Trail Area is lots of dirt and greasewood.  And it smells funny.  But it was nice to have a place to relax and prep for the next day of adventure.