I'd rather....

- spend the day at the beach than the zoo.

- lie to you if I think the truth will hurt you.

- change the subject or focus if I don't agree with what you are saying than have to debate my point.

- drink a Coke than a Pepsi.

- stifle a creative endeavor if I think it's not going to be perfect or as good as the ideal in my head, or as good as someone else could do it.

- have a conversation about what is really happening in your life than make small talk about the weather or what I ate for lunch.

- know your what favorite book is than your favorite shoe designer.

- apologize to you than hear you apologize to me.

- go to the library than the bookstore (but I still really like the bookstore.)

- buy lunch than make one.

- sit by myself in church.


 - read a novel than a memoir.

- wear flip flops. Always.

- wear a cute skirt than a pair of work pants.

- not tell you how I really feel, because I don't feel like my point of view will stand up in the light of yours.

- have a cat than a dog.

- hike uphill than down.

- be warm than cold.

- wear a full-zip jacket to a quarter zip or hoodie.

- have thumb holes.

- drive myself so that I can use the fastest route.

- help you than ask you to help me.

- not worry anymore what others are thinking about me.

- have the knowledge I've gained over the past year. But it would have been nice to have learned it in an easier way.

- drink a rootbeer freeze than a milkshake.

- be authentic to myself.

- spend time making memories with my loved ones.

- be there for you than let you be there for me.

- cook dinner rather than do the dishes.

- eat pancakes or waffles than eat french toast.

- run than walk.

What would you rather?

Brené Brown: an author review, of sorts.

I've always been a huge believer in a book finding you at just the right time. Usually for me, said book is fiction, with a character whose struggles mirror my own in some way, or a setting that feels so familiar it's like being home. I'm not much into non-fiction; I've enjoyed a few (Terry Tempest William's Refuge and John Krakauer's Into Thin Air come to mind, both read with my book group), but usually about a third of way through non-fiction books, especially when they deal with self-help, I tune out and lose interest.

Enter Brené Brown. I first heard about her when a friend posted her TED talk on shame and vulnerability on Facebook. Listening to that talk was so enlightening - I can still remember the little explosions going off in my brain as I identified with her wise words on shame. I always remembered how that TED talk made me feel, but I didn't take it any further.

Then a few weeks ago I had a thought in the shower (because doesn't all wisdom flow from the time you spend in the shower? I saw a meme that said a fraction of our time in the shower is spent cleaning ourselves, and the majority is spent evaluating our life. So true!) about my tendency to ruminate. Since my anxiety blew up last summer, a lot of my rumination time is spent either suppressing or magnifying my heightened emotions about driving to work. I vacillate between the two on almost a minute by minute basis on the days I go to work. Or, if it's not the drive to work, it's my feelings about a person or a situation that makes me feel vulnerable in some way. I realized that if I'm going to live with anxiety, I need to find a way to let it be in my life but not the focus of my life. And to start that journey, I need to learn to get out of my head.

One of the suggested books about rumination and worry was by Brené Brown. I can't tell you which one, because my search resulted in my reserving several of her books and audio books at the library. I started reading the first one that came available as a hold - I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn't). (I also picked up Rising Strong, but old habits required me to read ITIWJM, because it was written earlier, and I wouldn't want to "spoil" the series by reading the last book first!) After the Introduction, I realized that it would never do to just read the library copy - I wanted to write all over the book immediately. By page 44, I was sending pics of favorite passages to Amy, and on page 76 (which I read while on a flight to Spokane for Bloomsday - a moment I think I will remember my whole life), I had a revelation about my life and how I use shame and vulnerability against myself that forever changed me. Making a mental note to buy the book as soon as I got the chance, I got out the journal I'd brought along with me on the plane and started writing. I saw the shame that has hampered my adult life with such a clarity and the source that started its terrible trajectory in such a clear-eyed way that I knew I'd never be able to go back. I'm different, altered, changed - whatever synonym a thesaurus can come up with - I'm that.

Shame has been my go-to place for so long that I cannot remember a time when it hasn't been my companion. I don't know what happened or didn't happen to make that be my reality. Brown's distinction of how guilt and shame are different - guilt is the feeling that something you have done is bad, shame is the feeling that what you are is bad - was especially helpful, because I've never wanted to call what I feel shame - I've always blamed it on guilt. But my interior landscape has always told me that I'm fundamentally bad. And as a result, I've spent my whole life trying unsuccessfully to argue with that landscape. (Putting that sentence out there makes me feel so vulnerable - I want to delete it. But allowing myself to be vulnerable and not sell the image that "I'm perfect!" is what will help me to start to alter my landscape, which I want to do with all of my heart and soul.)

I now have my own marked up copy of ITIWJM. I just finished it this morning. I've also been reading in tandem a library copy of The Gifts of Imperfection (another one I need to buy - I might as well start my own library of Brown's books.) Reading them together helped to explain and clarify questions I had about ITIWJM - many of the ideas carry over into The Gifts, reinforcing some of the harder concepts for me to apply.

Like Brené Brown says in the book, reading just one book on shame isn't going to solve my issues with shame and vulnerability. But I'm better armed to change my landscape because of the following:

• I have knowledge of what to call the emotions I feel that cause me to want to control situations.
• I can be better prepared for the situations that lead me to anguish over others' feelings about me.
• I can better process and maybe understand the feelings that start debates in my head that tell me without mincing any words just how terrible I am and why. Maybe I can even head off these thoughts before they start.
• I can identify what my shame triggers are and which screens I use internally and externally to throw others off of the scent of my vulnerability.
• I can be more helpful to others when they are showing me their vulnerability. My go-to mode in these situation is to try to head off their pain and tell them that what they are saying isn't true because I don't want them to experience pain. A favorite quote - "can we be with her in her shame? Or do we feel the need to make it better or redirect the conversation? If we are willing to be open and present, we are willing to practice compassion." And also, "Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It's a relationship between equals." (that last quote is quoted in the book -  it was said by Pema Chödrön, an American Buddhist nun. Love, love that quote and I want to strive to use it in my life.)

If you see or talk to me in real life and I start spouting off these newfound truths, forgive me. Or maybe you can sit with me in my vulnerability and then let me sit with you. Or maybe I won't remember what I've learned and I'll try to fix you - forgive me again. If I get angry and go off on you about things that happened in the past or situations that I make me vulnerable because they show me an part of myself that I don't like - forgive me, I'm trying to change my old patters of shame screens and identities that I want to avoid. If you catch me quiet and scatter-brained because I've gotten stuck in my head again, forgive me and ask me what I'm feeling shameful about and then let me be vulnerable with you. If you respond in a way that doesn't address my vulnerability, I'll try (maybe unsuccessfully) to forgive you and realize that you are doing your best. If I give you a copy of a book to read or send you quotes I like - forgive me; just know I love you and want to share something that felt authentic in me and I sent it to you in the chance that it will feel authentic to you.

I'm planning to finish The Gifts of Imperfection and move on to Rising Strong.

Have you read any of these books? Is it just me? Do I sound completely crazy-pants? I'd love to have your comments.<3 br="">

Leap day snapshot

Because I am a huge copycat, I'm totally copying this post from Amy. And since Leap Day 2016 was a fabulous day (so far!) I'm excited to make a snapshot of today as well as highlight a few of the Leap Days in the past.

Leap Day 1988: I would have been at gymnastics. I was in 7th grade, and that was a terrible year for friends. I was just making friends with a girl named Amber, whose birthday party was the first week in March. Amy was competing in a meet in Sandy, and I missed the Friday night meet for the party. I had a cold and I was not planning on staying the night for the sleepover, but then decided to at the last minute. I can remember my sister Suzette taking me to Party City in Springville so I could pick out Amber's present since my mom was with Amy at the meet.

Leap Day 1992: I was a junior in high school. After a terrible fall, things were a bit better with my friends. I'm pretty sure I smoked my first cigarette in February 1992. What a lovely thing to remember. I was dating a guy from Pleasant Grove that I had met at the Palace Dance club in Provo, Utah. In March, I would dump him and start dating a guy named Daron from West Jordan.

Leap Day 1996: I was at school at Virginia Tech. On Leap Day, I did a performance with my dance group and another dance group at the school named Ujima. I danced in a piece that had been choreographed by a girl with scoliosis so there were no bends in the upper part of the spine, which I thought was really cool.

Leap Day 2000: I had just moved in to my first house the month before. I was working at my same job, and we were on the fourth floor of Eagle Gate in downtown Salt Lake. I sat in an arrangement that we called the Quad and I had three coworkers who sat within feet of me and heard every word I said.

Leap Day 2004: I was training for a marathon that I would do in April. Thomas was 2.5. We had just bought our Nissan Xterra (which we just sold last summer.) Shane and I carpooled to work every day together. I was waiting for the marathon to come so that I could get pregnant with Ben. I read the Time Traveler's Wife for the first time.

Leap Day 2008: Thomas was 6.5, Ben was 3. I still lived across the street from my friend Shelly, and we spent every weekend with our BFFs the Bells. I would have been working at year-end processing at work, just like I've done every February. My dad was still living at home, and I went down a few Thursdays a month to spend the afternoon with him. It was the first year I did SDBBE and I was reading How to Be Good, my friend Isabel's book.

Leap Day 2012: We were living in our current house for almost 2 years. Thomas was 10.5 and Ben was 7. Shane was working at a company down the street - he would change to his current job in 2 months. I was at my job, and we were still in our old building while most of the company was in our current location. Mel and John still lived in Utah, and my dad had been dead for 6 months. I was reading The Dive from Clausen's Pier for SDBBE.

Right now in 2016, we are:

• We are loving snowshoeing. I'm sort of obsessed with it, actually. We've gone twice in two weeks. This week was our longest one yet. There is only one section of the trails at Solitude resort that we haven't gone on, which makes me feel a bit excited and proud. 
• Ben just finished indoor soccer. It was an adventure. He had a lot of fun playing with one of his besties, Weston, and the rest of his team. They were sort of ragtag, but that makes even more fond of them for some reason. 
• Thomas is plugging away at ninth grade. He went to his first region church dance about a week ago. He had so much fun, which made me so happy. I remember going to dances at his age and having the time of my life. He loves to play his Xbox, and spends a lot of Friday and Saturday nights on it with his friends in the basement. I'm pretty proud of the kid he is becoming.
• Shane is finding himself a little nostalgic for doing household improvements. After spending two years with more than enough projects to do in the basement, it's weird for him to come home on Friday night and not have hours worth of work ahead of him. He's going to build a door for the utility room downstairs (we are jumping on the barn door bandwagon!) so he's got an opportunity to pull out his tool belt soon.
• I'm trying to figure out this whole being 40 thing. I realized last month that I have choices. I might not be able to control what happens, but I can control how I react to things. I want to take more opportunities to do things I am interested in. Embrace and act are my two words for the year. I'm rereading Time Traveler's Wife and Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince.

Today I: went to work. Had a lovely Gandolfo's turkey avocado sandwich at my desk. Ran on the trail wearing my favorite running tights and new running shirt. Almost finished a project I've been working on for over a month. Picked Ben up from school for the first time since the first of February when he went off track. Did a  five minute workout on Youtube. Left my phone at work. Made chicken bowls for dinner and ate a Rice Krispy treat for dessert.

Happy making: wool socks edition

Lest it sound like my whole life is doom and gloom, I want to put it out there that there are things making me happy these days. I need to complain about anxiety every now and then, and I want to document things I notice so that I am armed for the future, but it isn’t the whole story lately.

So what things have made me happy lately? Let me count the ways.

Wool socks. Oh my gosh, I forgot this when I first posted this. How could I forget though? I went hiking in October with my sweet mother-in-law and she brought me a new pair of wool socks. I looked forward to wearing those socks every week, and so on the day after Christmas, I bought a four pack of the very best socks in the world: Merino wool socks from Costco. I have worn fluffy, warm, beautiful wool socks all winter since. And, I just bought another 4 pack last Friday. I'm sort of a sock slut. But I have no shame in that. No, none at all.

Running. Can I just tell you (again!) how much I love winter running? I am going to. I love the cold air. I love getting warm and sweaty at the same time as my face is delightfully cool. I love running fast in the winter. I even love my treadmill these days. I’ve been doing some different kinds of workouts thanks to the inspiration of taking an Orange Theory fitness class last month. At Orange Theory, they hook up you with a heart rate monitor for the entire workout, which consist of 23 minutes of cardio and 23 minutes of strength. All you have to do is follow the workout plan as set forth by the instructor while trying to keep your heartrate monitor color in the orange or red sections. These are the anaerobic thresholds that, once reached, can help burn calories after the workout has ended. I discovered in the class just how much I love working in the green section – the one right before orange & red. Why? Because I’m not out of breath as much in the green. After the class, I decided I could get myself in the orange by doing pick-ups of 1 or 2 minutes at a faster pace during my runs. I feel like it’s helping. I’m also getting back to doing some high intensity interval training on run days and cross train days. I haven’t done much strength training in the past few months, and I’m can tell that I need it.

Running clothes. I count this in a completely different category than running! I got a running skirt and long running tights for Christmas that make me so happy. Shane also gave me an awesome running jacket that I never would have bought for myself but absolutely love. It is perfect for an outdoor run and keeps me so warm I barely notice the wind and cold. Plus it has a cozy soft inner lining that is bright pink. I love running in pink.

Eating Lindor balls. Shane brought home a giant gift bag of assorted Lindor balls right before Christmas. How had I not discovered their particular brand of deliciousness??!! My faves are the light and dark blue, red, and black. I’ve since bought 2 more bags, and Shane also scared up another partial bag from work that have fed my addiction nicely.

Sewing. As one of my ways of coping with anxiety, I started sewing at night. I had started a Christmas tree skirt 2 Christmases ago that had tons of hand stitching. I spent many nights sewing on that and finished it right before I decorated. I then decided to make table runners as gifts. These were fun projects that forced me to finish the items I was working on, thus helping me get better at quilting and binding. I even tried my hand at free-form quilting, something I had never done before but now adore. In the midst of it, I found an awesome sewing machine that I ended up getting for Christmas. Sewing is so fun now, and I feel like I can do things I couldn’t do with my old machine. I have a few other projects in the works, which is exciting.

I have made three of these as gifts...we'll see if I ever finish the one I  started for myself.

Christmas tree skirt

Finishing our basement. Back before I went to Italy, Shane started working on finishing our basement. It took 2 loooonng years to finish. We used electricians, plumbers, and heating and air professionals early on to finish those jobs, but the rest was done by Shane. After spending all spring and summer sheet rocking, we saved up and had pros do the mudding and taping in the fall (I will forever be grateful for them! They did such a great job at helping our walls look good.) We also had a guy do the tile in the shower and bathroom floor. The boys helped us paint, which was pretty fun. We just got carpet 2 weeks ago. We finished it with all the same paint, doors, and trim so that it matches the upstairs. It’s so exciting to have it all done.

Reading. I’ve finished a couple of books lately, and started a few that I may or may not finish but still enjoyed. My favorites were The All Girls Filling Station’s Last Reunion by Fannie Flagg and The Lake House by Kate Morton. My least favorite was The Heart Goes Last by Margaret Atwood…I didn’t finish it, but I may, eventually. I’m reading The Library at Mount Char currently.

My family. We’ve had some really fun times at home lately, watching The Office reruns (because Thomas, at 14, decided he wanted to watch the series again now that he “gets more of the jokes.” Teenagers. I just cringe!) and our TV watching staple Modern Family. Shane and I had a really fun and casual anniversary dinner together (we were both filthy, having worked in the basement all day cleaning and then went to a late soccer game for Ben – seriously, the game started at 5:40 in the evening. The opportunity to go out sort of just evolved out of a very nice offer of Ben’s friend’s parents who were also at the game.) Shane and I had some very important conversations and started to understand a few things about ourselves and about each other that can help make things smoother. I’ve enjoyed watching Ben’s soccer team get clobbered each week by the club teams he’s playing during indoor soccer. We are like the ragtag team from the wrong side of the tracks with our cotton t-shirts and mismatched shorts, but the kids are learning a lot and getting better thanks to playing teams that have played for years together in indoor and outdoor soccer.  

Meeting someone again that I haven’t seen in over 25 years. It was something I had dreamed and hoped for and am so very grateful happened.

Knick knacks from my mom’s house. While helping her pack, I brought home a few items that have made me so happy. I got a painting that my grandpa painted. I also got a milk glass bowl that was my mom’s moms, and a pitcher with cups that was my dad’s moms. I didn’t bring home a lot of stuff, but what I did get, I really love and am trying to incorporate into my house instead of just shoving them into a cabinet somewhere to never see the light of day. I also brought home a giant secretary that I still have sitting in my garage. The thing is massive, almost 7 feet tall. I want to put it in my basement, but I don’t know if it can fit and haven’t convinced anyone to pick it up and attempt to take it down the stairs. (If any of you local readers have a moving-company hookup that would do a house call and tell me if it will fit or not, I might just love you forever.)

So what is making you happy lately? I want to know.

Filling in the spaces

A few months ago, I posted about my anxiety. And then I stopped blogging. Not that the two were related, but I just could never get myself to take the time to blog. 

I’m a natural born worrier. I have worried about uncontrollable situations for as long as I can remember. It wasn’t until this summer that I found that my tendency to imagine the worst was more than just an annoying habit. Anxiety has become an entity in my life that goes with me wherever I go. Even when I’m not thinking about it, it’s always right there in the back of my mind. I constantly monitor it, judging if it’s at an acceptable level or not. I find it exhausting.

I wish I could say that after getting on medication, it all went away. I can definitely say that medication helped. Holy cow, it helped and I will always be very grateful that I made the decision to seek help. The place where I was all through August and into September was terrible. By the time I finally stopped fighting the idea of medication, I was in a dark and terrifying place. I was scared to sleep. I was scared to be in confined spaces. I was scared of passing out at any given moment. I was terrified to drive, especially on the freeway. It was awful, awful, awful.

It took a while for everything to even out. I was very grateful that I had decided to run an October half marathon. Having to do long runs each week gave me something to think about and plan for – a much needed diversion. I could also remind myself on a weekly basis with my long run that if I could run 7, 8, 9, 10 miles without passing out, that I could do the same while driving in my car. It took a few weeks, but I eventually got to a place where anxiety was in the background of everything.

I’d like to insert this quote from a Nine Inch Nail’s song:

“Then a tiny little dot caught my eye. It was just about too small to see. But I watched it way too long. It was pulling me down….I was up above it. Now I’m down in it.”

Isn’t that how it is? A tiny little dot, watched for too long, that somehow becomes all you can see. To be honest, my mom’s sale of her home and move dominated my thoughts for much of December and January. I had hoped she would sell for over 10 years (I can remember the first thing I said to my mom and dad when my dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s was – are you going to sell the house?) I tried to prepare her, pack her, convince her to move for a very, very long time. When she got the offer in November it seemed like a godsend, but the timing was awful. In the mix of all the December activities, her move was a giant arrow on the calendar with a few bullseye rings around it. On Christmas, I looked around at her house and realized how much still needed to be done. Even 10 days before the move, the house wasn’t nearly ready to be moved out of. I tried to do things to alleviate what I felt was an inevitable train wreck, but I couldn’t manage it. It wasn’t my responsibility to carry out, and though I did what I could, it was hard for me to realize my place in it or allow my brain to stop worrying about it.

On Human Rights Day I decided to drive down to see my mom’s house one last time. I had tried to be ok with saying goodbye to it the previous Thursday, but then I realized that I really wanted to see it empty. I didn’t realize how emotionally fraught I was until I found myself in a full on panic attack on the freeway on the way down. I decided that freeway driving may not be the best idea, so I took the back roads the rest of the way and talked to Amy on the phone. I was so nervous to see the house. I was nervous that the new owners would be there and I wouldn’t get to be alone. I was anxious to get it over with and be back on my way home.

When I got there, I had a pretty good experience. I took a few pictures that I really wanted to get. I walked through every single room. I walked over to the neighbor’s house and hugged her, crying and telling her how grateful I was that she had helped my mom for so long. I looked at the house in different angles. It wasn’t just that it was empty. It just looked so…alone. Left behind.

After about half an hour, I set off home. Now, I’m usually a greedy girl and stop at the gas station on my way home (there is a lovely gas station there that has a drive through!) but I was trying to hurry so I just didn’t stop. I found that my earlier panic started right back up where it left off. About 20 minutes into the drive, I pulled off the freeway again and decided to give myself a break by getting a drink. It was then that I discovered to my everlasting horror that I had left my wallet back at my mom’s house. The thought of going back to get it nearly pushed me over the edge, but panic attack or not, I turned back around. It was sort of good – I ended up seeing my mom at the house for a minute, which was good. But it sucked adding an additional hour to my drive home. The lesson I learned from this was that I can drive through multiple panic attacks for hours on end and come out of it somewhat ok. I didn’t go crazy or crash my car or even do anything remotely close to those things. It’s the small victories, right?

The best part of the whole thing is that it’s finally done. My mom is moved. I feel like she was incredibly brave to have done it. It is such a relief to have her moved to a more manageable home that’s closer to me and my sisters.

The hard part has been telling my brain that it’s over. Over the many years of waiting, I’ve worn a very deep groove of worry about her and her home. Once it was over, I found that I didn’t know what to do in its absence. The after effects of the stress were almost as bad as the stress itself – maybe worse, because now it’s hard to figure out what to do about my anxiety over my anxiety. All of the feelings came rushing back that I had dealt with last summer.

I think I’m finally on the other side of it all. I’ve learned an important lesson about how I react to stress. The fact that my anxiety goes up after the stress has gone is crappy, but something I’m glad that I’ve figured out because it sort of helps explain my reaction last summer when it all began. I’m trying to not to be hard on myself at the fact that I relapsed. I’m so very glad that I’m better equipped to deal with it this time around. But the process of finding new ways to spend the mental energy I used to spend worrying about my mom’s house has been not very fun. I’d like to start filling in the spaces with more meaningful and positive thoughts instead of turning my mental energy to even more impossible-to-control things like global warming or gang violence or Donald Trump’s presidential run. I think I’m on the right track. 

Snowshoeing at Solitude: A review of sorts

When I was a kid, I made exactly one snowman. I was approximately 3 years old at the time. Later, when I was 16, I went with my friend Cindy to a hill and attempted to snowboard.

That's all I got for winter outdoor activities, folks. I guess I've always been more of inside kind of girl.

So when I started to think about snowshoeing this year, it seemed foreign. But I've realized the past few years how much I love winter running. I'm not in the least afraid of the cold; I actually love it. I'm faster in the winter than I am in the summer, and my asthma doesn't seem to bother me as much. Plus, with my kids getting older, all they ever want to do is hang out with their friends. I'm happy to let them do that, but I'm finding that if we don't find things to actually go out and do, then we don't ever do anything together.

On Christmas Eve, we went sledding at a park near our house. It was really fun and it solidified my determination that we would soon try snowshoeing. Shane found us all boots. Then the day after Christmas, I got my very first pair of snowpants. (They are seriously so cute. I got them at Costco and I wore them for the rest of the day after I bought them.) I found a great deal on snowpants for both Shane and Thomas, and Ben already had a pair. We were ready, and all we had to do was pick a day and go.

That day finally came on Saturday. I had researched snowshoeing in Utah and found that the Silver Lake area at Solitude Ski Resort is the perfect place to snowshoe. The reason are many, but include:

• 6 miles of dedicated and groomed snowshoeing trails.
• Easy and relatively inexpensive rentals. They were very helpful, and asked us lots of questions. Thomas didn't have waterproof boots so they suggested overshoes for him. They asked which of us wanted poles (only I wanted them) as a way to save money. We were all outfitted and ready within 10 minutes of walking in to the Nordic Center.
• Free parking
• Easy to follow trails (once you realize the markings - will explain later!)
• A shuttle bus that allows you to travel between Silver Lake and the main Solitude Ski Resort.
• Color coded maps along the trails.

We got to Solitude about 12:00. We had originally planned on doing a half-day of snowshoeing, but to do that, you have to arrive after 12:30. Even so, it was still around $21 a person for the rentals and day pass. Not bad for trying out a new activity.

I kept thinking as I was getting my snowshoes on that standing up would feel like ice skating, but it didn't. There is nothing at all similar about ice skating and snowshoeing other than they both involve your feet and cold weather, ha ha.

The trail starts right outside of the Nordic Center. However, being new, we had no idea at first that we were on the cross country ski trail. We bumbled around for about 10 minutes, unsure of where we were supposed to be going until the person who helped us with our rental directed us to the trail. After that, it was super easy to follow the blue ribbons to stay on course. They were tied to trees, posts, bushes, and poles. There were other trails marked in other colors - we ended up taking blue around the lake, and then orange around another trail that took us past some lovely winter cabins. The two trails make a figure 8, and total about 1.5 miles.

The snowshoe trail is about 3 feet wide - wide enough for just a single person to snowshoe, and to pass others on the trail. By the time we started, the trail was pretty trampled, which was nice because it was less work, but kind of sad because it was fun to step on virgin snow. We each stepped a few feet off the track at some point just to make our own footsteps. It's fun to watch the snowshoes cut through the snow, and amazing to see how even though you sink a little, you still stay relatively higher than you would in regular shoes.

I used poles, and both boys used borrowed them for a time during our walk. Having poles isn't necessary in any way, but it makes it fun. I liked how they added an upper body component to the snowshoeing. (I've found this when I've used them hiking as well.) The poles were nice to have especially when going uphill. It took a little less strain off of of the legs.

Our little snowshoe adventure took us about 2 hours. We weren't trying to win any speed awards. We stopped and took pictures, laid in the snow to make snow angels, threw snowballs at trees, put snow down clothing (well, some of us), and admired the scenery. It was seriously such a gorgeous day - it was snowing just enough to be beautiful but not super cold. The wind was cold, but once you were moving, it sort of faded into the background, and was completely absent during our time on the orange Cabin trail, which is a little more sheltered.

I wore a pair of ColdGear UnderArmor tights, my snow pants, a pair of wool socks and a pair of acrylic (but my boots kept my feet so warm I would have been fine with one pair of socks), a short sleeve running shirt, a long sleeve running shirt, a running jacket, and a coat. I could have survived (and would have preferred) without my coat. I wore gloves sometimes, but other times I took them off because I was too hot or wanted to take pictures.

Once you get the rhythm down, you sort of forget you are wearing snowshoes at all. The kind I had required me to step toe-first instead of heel first, because the spikes were at the front of the snowshoes. There is a hinge that allows your hill to come up but the snowshoe to stay down.

Everyone had a great time. I would have loved to stay longer, but unknown to us until the very end, Ben had the stomach flu so he was more than ready to be done when we got back to the Nordic Center.We finished off the day by stopping at a cafe called Silver Fork Lodge for a delicious lunch.

Now for some pictures.

Not too bad for an inside girl, I'd say.


Have you ever been snowshoeing? Any advice or local trails you can recommend?

We were 465 and 7586.

When we would check out books from the library as kids, there would be envelope at the back of the book with a card in it. To check out the book, the librarian would take out the card and write the last four of your phone number on the card. There were a lot of books that had 7586 on them.

About a year ago, my mom let our old phone number go. That was weird. I always liked the little pattern that 7586 made on the phone. When it was coupled with the prefix, all the numbers in the middle two rows of the phone were used. It was strange to know that I couldn't ever call that number and have the anyone in my family answer.

This weekend, my mom moved out of her house. 465 has gone the way of 7586. The numbers still exist, of course, but have no more relevance to our family.

My dad used the chassis from an old truck of some kind to make this mailbox post.

I went there for the last time on Thursday. I helped my mom in the kitchen mostly, packing the cleaning supplies from under the sink, sweeping now-empty pantry, and other odds and ends. In the early afternoon, we sat down and ate a Jimmy John's sandwich. I made sure to sit in my old place at the table so I could look out the window at the mountain with the face in it that only Amy and I could ever see. The church that was built in 1991 sort of ruined the view. And the trees that my dad planted that just kept growing and growing.

This is what it looked like to eat dinner from my chair. Back in the day, Michele and Suzette would have occupied these two chairs. My dad would have been to my left, my mom on my right, and Amy at the other end of the table to the right of my mom.

In fourth grade, I read "Anastasia Again!" by Lois Lowry. In it, Anastasia Krupnik moves from her apartment in Cambridge to the suburbs. On moving day, everyone is sad, but especially her little brother. He says his blankie is sad to leave the apartment. As a solution, Anastasia cuts the blankie in half and folds it small and leaves it in the corner of the hutch. I always remembered this scene when I move and have made a habit of leaving little "I was here" tokens. So after lunch I took a sharpie and went on a mission. I don't know if you are supposed to do this or not, but I wrote a message on the very top shelf of my old closet. "This was Amy and Becky's room. Then it was Becky's room." I then gave the sharpie to my mom to do the same. Standing on the stepstool so she could reach the very top of her closet, she wrote "I loved this house" and signed her name. I remembered the picture I took on Christmas of what I felt like was my dad's "I was here." How long will it take the new owners to find these leftover clues?

The tree grew around the saw my dad left in the tree many years ago. Just the tip of the blade is now visible.

Before I left, I walked through every single room and remembered and remembered. I lingered in my old bedroom longest, thinking of the nights Amy and I would talk when we were little, watching the lights from the cars make a familiar track across the ceiling. I thought about the mornings when I would lay in my bed after eating breakfast and look in my closet to decide what to wear. I realized how impossible it was to remember it all. I felt that strange juxtaposition of being in a place right at that moment and knowing that very soon the moment would end and I wouldn't ever stand there again but again, being right there.

So many emotions. Not all of them good. I wish some things could have gone better in this process, but it wasn't mine to control.

I doubt I will  ever stop having dreams about this place.

Goodbye, 465.