A few weeks ago I went with my closest friends to visit another wonderful friend in her hometown of Columbus, Ohio. It's our tradition (more recently, thought of as a divine right) to take a "girls' trip" every Spring, so our families weren't surprised when we disappeared one warm weekend for a few precious days spent eating, drinking and walking around doing nothing. In addition to our monthly dinners and impromptu breakfast meetings, these times together are vital to each of us in different ways. Over the many years that we've known one another our tastes have changed, but our relationships have remained (miraculously) much the same - which is comforting some unidentifiable way.
One of our habits on these trips is to keep a list of all the hilarious (to us) phrases that we mutter as we waste away a few days in each others constant company. These lists (usually 15-20 phrases long) are the best remedy to a bad mood, a back-talking kid, a frustrating job and a litany of other "problems" that might plague one.
On this trip, one of the phrases that entered our lexicon was "...till they saw our faces." Originally meant as a compliment, ie, "Hey, those guys were checking us out....till they saw our [older] faces", it ended up being, "Hey, those guys were checking us out....till they saw our [lined, dry, craggy, droopy-eyed, sorry-ass] faces." This would be even funnier if it weren't true, but...well, time marches on, no? One (20-year old) kid even had the nerve to comment loudly as we walked by in all our giddy glory, "Mommies!", which really sent us into spasms of disbelief (although, in fact, most of us are moms -- some of us many times over).
So you could say we had our ups and downs in Columbus, but nowadays it's those two phrases, "...till they saw our faces!" and "Mommies!" that can bring me to tears (from laughing). Not because they're particularly funny lines, but because it reminds me not to take myself (or anybody else) too seriously. Life is short. Enjoy your face.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Rescue on the "High" Seas
Our vacation continued today with some interesting events on Lake Dillon -- actually, the Dillon Reservoir, which is a fresh water reservoir from which Denver (located, oh, some 4000 feet below Dillon in elevation) receives a good portion of its drinking water. We decided to take out a kayak (Lola and myself) and canoe (Roc, Isabel and Stella) for a couple of hours -- something we've done maybe 4 or 5 times in the past. Our plans were pretty routine -- paddle to some of the islands that dot the lake, get out and take a look around (supposedly there is an osprey nest out there, but we never saw it), then hop back in and paddle around some more, followed by lunch at the marina. Adventure on the "high" seas -- get it? "High" as in altitude? Yes, folks, I'll be here all day.
Anyway, the sky looked ominous as we headed out, but we had been assured by the dock-hands (who shrugged at the dark clouds) that it would be fine. The wind was behind us and strong, so we were pleased to zoom along to the first island without much effort. A few feet behind Lola and myself I could hear Roc commentating repeatedly on the wind, and about how difficult our return paddle would be. Roc is a really good sailor and grew up on the water, so he really does know what he's talking about. I grew up on a little lake (a pond, really), skimming around on a Sunfish and thinking (dementedly) that I actually knew what I was doing. Anyway, I knew he was right, but what could we do? A storm was clearly on its way, so we would just have to wait it out on the island and then paddle back later (cold and wet).
Unfortunately, Stella was still beat from the long hike the previous day on Quandary, so she melted down almost immediately, wailing very loudly that she was tired and wanted to get back to the marina. We indulged her drama as we had no alternative, and when the rain and winds picked up we tried to find shelter under the tall pines in the middle of the island. It was around this point that the marina called Roc's cell and informed us that they would be sending a "rescue boat" as the storm looked to be a big one and they didn't want us stranded on the island, or trying to paddle back. Now this was exciting news! A "rescue" boat sounded awfully important and we all wondered what, exactly, a "rescue boat" from the Frisco Marina might look like.
The storm intensified while we waited, with a few flashes of lightening and some really loud thundercracks accompanied by strong wind. Eventually a large tree branch that fell about 200 yards away from where we stood was enough to set off some panic alarms for Lola and Stella (who, yes, was still crying). For a few moments I worried that a tree might actually fall on us, but almost as soon as the thought occurred to me we heard the whistle of our "rescuers" on the other side of the island (the windier, wetter side) and so we trucked back through the pines and piled onboard the boat (maybe 30 feet with a center console). They loaded our canoe and kayak onboard as well and we were off to the marina -- suddenly rescued and thinking about what we might have for lunch once we arrived.
Later, the storm passed and we spent the afternoon poking around in sunny Breckenridge. Strange how you can go from a seemingly menacing situation to a completely benign one in a matter of hours (or maybe 30 minutes, in our case). I don't think that we were ever in any real danger, but it rallied us together as a family anyway, and as we skimmed along the water of Lake Dillon in the "rescue boat", wrapped in warm, woolly blankets and trying to stay out of the pouring rain, it seemed we all knew that this would make a good story at somebody's wedding someday -- probably Stella's.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Climbing Mt. Quandary
We've got the whole gang out in Colorado for a couple of weeks visiting my parents in Frisco -- about 9 miles from Breckenridge. We love coming here. The fresh air, blue skies and perfect weather are the ideal antidote to city-overdose after a long year of school and everything that comes with it.
Today we decided to climb what is known as a "fourteener", ie, one of about 53 mountains that peak at an altitude of more than 14,000 feet above sea level. Not all summits over 14,000 feet qualify as fourteeners -- mountains that qualify are generally those considered by mountaineers to be independent. Climbing all the fourteeners in this area is a popular Summit County pastime, and there are blogs upon blogs about it if you might be interested in more. For us, coming from Chicago and staying in Frisco at at altitude of about 9000 feet, the altitude gain at Quandary is fairly significant (ie, we knew there would be lots of huffing and puffing).
Lola chose to spend the morning with Nana and Papa, so it was Roc, Stella (almost 8), Isabel (11) and myself who headed to the trailhead at around 8:00AM - a little late by most guidelines, but we were giving ourselves a little slack as we weren't entirely optimistic about summitting with two little ones in tow anyway. The day was crisp, cool and clear -- as every day in Colorado seems to dawn in the summer months. We struck out cheerfully, even though I had spent a good portion of the night searching the internet for assurances (to no avail) that we weren't insane to take young children on this "advanced" and "strenuous" trail. As it turned out, Stella was especially tenacious - perhaps because this was her first time on this particular mountain. Roc and I have climbed it once before without kids, and last year Roc and Isabel went up about two-thirds before turning back (too cold!) Stella raced up the steep inclines, pausing only to sip water and peel off layers -- which she threw to me to carry (of course).
At around 12,500 feet, far about the tree line and with spectacular views of two alpine lakes and a couple of other fourteeners in the distance, Isabel complained of a headache and shortness of breath. Both she and Roc have occasional bouts of mild asthma -- usually altitude-induced -- and unfortunately, Roc had forgotten an inhaler. I was feeling good as I spent last week hiking around Beaver Creek (up and down the mountain), but Roc was tired (he only arrived 2 days ago), and with Isabel slowing down, I thought it best to call it a day and head back down.
Ohhhh, not so fast. Stella had the summit in her line of sight, and there was no way she was going back down without achieving her "goal". We agreed that Isabel and I would wait and enjoy the spectacular scenery while Roc and Stella continued to the next ridge -- about 500 feet higher. Much to our surprise, we were treated to a great sighting of two wooly mountain goats clambering toward us up the steep mountainside -- followed by two more a few minutes later. Meanwhile, Roc and Stella had reached the next ridge and we could see them in an animated discussion (lots of gesticulations!) which ended with them turning around and heading back toward us. (We later discovered that this conversation was not about the mountain at all, but about which kind of beef jerky tasted better.)
I was relieved to see them coming back, even though I suspected that Stella would be sorely disappointed. She often sets very high (sometimes unrealistic) goals for herself and can be harsh with self-criticism if it doesn't work out. We hear this a lot from her teachers, and I'm pretty sure it has something to do with keeping up with her older sisters. Also, it was just a little over a year ago that she underwent a procedure to close an atrial septal defect (a hole in her heart) and we are currently overdue for her 1-year follow-up appointment. As we went up Quandary I couldn't help from repeatedly asking her if she could hear her heart pounding and she would answer me with exasperation, "YES! It means I'm alive!"
Anyway, they came back down and Stella was surprisingly not fazed by missing the summit this time. Instead, we started the long descent in high spirits, feeling that we had accomplished quite a lot. There were no other hikers nearly as young as Stella or even Isabel, and some who passed us (both going up and going down) made comments about how "tough" they were.
Maybe a half mile from the bottom Stella finally faltered and began to cry -- she was tired. Isabel, on the other hand, had gotten a second wind and sped away from us -- nowhere to be seen. We regaled Stella with stories of Tom Sawyer and continued down the mountain. After 30 minutes or so I began to wonder if we should be concerned about Isabel (where was she?) I made some cuckoo noises to which there was no response (nobody can ever hear me) but we did hear a faint response to Stella's "IZZY!!!!!" As it turned out, she had indeed gone off the trail, but had righted herself and was waiting near the trailhead when we came down.
So -- why this long (okay, boring) story? I guess it's my pride at what they accomplished, and with so little fanfare or drama. I love that when we say that they can do something, they actually trust us and believe in themselves enough to believe that it's true. It's something my parents did for me (telling me I could do/be anything) and I think it really impacted how I move through life. No problem is really insurmountable. Nothing is really that bad. There is so much that children pick up from our cues. Hint that they can't do it, and they can't. Tell them that they can and they will.
Today we decided to climb what is known as a "fourteener", ie, one of about 53 mountains that peak at an altitude of more than 14,000 feet above sea level. Not all summits over 14,000 feet qualify as fourteeners -- mountains that qualify are generally those considered by mountaineers to be independent. Climbing all the fourteeners in this area is a popular Summit County pastime, and there are blogs upon blogs about it if you might be interested in more. For us, coming from Chicago and staying in Frisco at at altitude of about 9000 feet, the altitude gain at Quandary is fairly significant (ie, we knew there would be lots of huffing and puffing).Lola chose to spend the morning with Nana and Papa, so it was Roc, Stella (almost 8), Isabel (11) and myself who headed to the trailhead at around 8:00AM - a little late by most guidelines, but we were giving ourselves a little slack as we weren't entirely optimistic about summitting with two little ones in tow anyway. The day was crisp, cool and clear -- as every day in Colorado seems to dawn in the summer months. We struck out cheerfully, even though I had spent a good portion of the night searching the internet for assurances (to no avail) that we weren't insane to take young children on this "advanced" and "strenuous" trail. As it turned out, Stella was especially tenacious - perhaps because this was her first time on this particular mountain. Roc and I have climbed it once before without kids, and last year Roc and Isabel went up about two-thirds before turning back (too cold!) Stella raced up the steep inclines, pausing only to sip water and peel off layers -- which she threw to me to carry (of course).
At around 12,500 feet, far about the tree line and with spectacular views of two alpine lakes and a couple of other fourteeners in the distance, Isabel complained of a headache and shortness of breath. Both she and Roc have occasional bouts of mild asthma -- usually altitude-induced -- and unfortunately, Roc had forgotten an inhaler. I was feeling good as I spent last week hiking around Beaver Creek (up and down the mountain), but Roc was tired (he only arrived 2 days ago), and with Isabel slowing down, I thought it best to call it a day and head back down.
Ohhhh, not so fast. Stella had the summit in her line of sight, and there was no way she was going back down without achieving her "goal". We agreed that Isabel and I would wait and enjoy the spectacular scenery while Roc and Stella continued to the next ridge -- about 500 feet higher. Much to our surprise, we were treated to a great sighting of two wooly mountain goats clambering toward us up the steep mountainside -- followed by two more a few minutes later. Meanwhile, Roc and Stella had reached the next ridge and we could see them in an animated discussion (lots of gesticulations!) which ended with them turning around and heading back toward us. (We later discovered that this conversation was not about the mountain at all, but about which kind of beef jerky tasted better.)
I was relieved to see them coming back, even though I suspected that Stella would be sorely disappointed. She often sets very high (sometimes unrealistic) goals for herself and can be harsh with self-criticism if it doesn't work out. We hear this a lot from her teachers, and I'm pretty sure it has something to do with keeping up with her older sisters. Also, it was just a little over a year ago that she underwent a procedure to close an atrial septal defect (a hole in her heart) and we are currently overdue for her 1-year follow-up appointment. As we went up Quandary I couldn't help from repeatedly asking her if she could hear her heart pounding and she would answer me with exasperation, "YES! It means I'm alive!"
Anyway, they came back down and Stella was surprisingly not fazed by missing the summit this time. Instead, we started the long descent in high spirits, feeling that we had accomplished quite a lot. There were no other hikers nearly as young as Stella or even Isabel, and some who passed us (both going up and going down) made comments about how "tough" they were.
Maybe a half mile from the bottom Stella finally faltered and began to cry -- she was tired. Isabel, on the other hand, had gotten a second wind and sped away from us -- nowhere to be seen. We regaled Stella with stories of Tom Sawyer and continued down the mountain. After 30 minutes or so I began to wonder if we should be concerned about Isabel (where was she?) I made some cuckoo noises to which there was no response (nobody can ever hear me) but we did hear a faint response to Stella's "IZZY!!!!!" As it turned out, she had indeed gone off the trail, but had righted herself and was waiting near the trailhead when we came down.
So -- why this long (okay, boring) story? I guess it's my pride at what they accomplished, and with so little fanfare or drama. I love that when we say that they can do something, they actually trust us and believe in themselves enough to believe that it's true. It's something my parents did for me (telling me I could do/be anything) and I think it really impacted how I move through life. No problem is really insurmountable. Nothing is really that bad. There is so much that children pick up from our cues. Hint that they can't do it, and they can't. Tell them that they can and they will.
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