tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28238985944995389132024-03-14T22:58:27.891-07:00End Of OrdinaryRock Your Authenticity!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.comBlogger242125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-27697330310989089092013-11-25T05:21:00.000-08:002013-11-25T05:21:00.578-08:00Going Meatless<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When our family pulled away from processed food, it was a slow venture. A few foods here, a few there. A lower grocery bill pulling us on, but still splurging a bit on junk fast foods occasionally. With the exception of our hike, we don't eat that junk food anymore. It actually makes us a bit sick when we eat it, now. The Barracuda and I are now venturing into meatlessness, and potential vegan-ness. <br />
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Flesh and I have never been all that great of friends. I mean, we get along and all, but I'm definitely a much stronger herbivore. It's not like my relationship with lactose or eggs....even writing eggs makes me slightly uncomfortable internally. It isn't some massive ethical debate for me. I'm mainly just put off by the texture and how they make me feel.<br />
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Jules is the exact opposite. He has actually been hospitalized for eating a steak so rapidly it endangered his ability to breathe. Yeah...He's not giving up any meat, anytime soon. We aren't even going there with him.<br />
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The Barracuda is a true omnivore. He's got a thing for BBQed muscle tissue, or marinaded, or stir fried, or roasted, or dry rubbed...Even if his stomach doesn't whole-heartedly agree with him, it is mainly on board and so is he. Veggies are awesome too, fruits are a total score, hook him up with some cheese, he'll eat anything. Until he heard about <a href="http://phys.org/news/2013-09-livestock-major-contributor-global.html">this</a>, <a href="http://terrastendo.net/2013/07/26/do-the-math-there-are-too-many-cows/">this</a>, <a href="http://www.worldpreservationfoundation.org/blog/news/global-warming-can-be-kept-below-2c-affordably-through-steep-reductions-in-livestock-production/#.Uo-_d7TiLTo">this</a>, and lastly <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2010/jun/02/un-report-meat-free-diet">this.</a><br />
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Oh First World Problems. Talk about an issue. Does he give up meat and save the planet? Does he enjoy meat as the planet crumbles around him? Does he listen to Jules who will never give up meat? Does he go with Mom who can totally turn her back on it with no issue? Does he crumple into fetal position in the corner crying?<br />
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Google came to the rescue. Google usually rescues him. There was a whole lot of reading, and talking, and thinking. <br />
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After much deliberation, the consensus has become that the only meal which will contain meat is dinner. That means 2/3rds of the week will be meat free and mostly dairy free. Fish eating can happen sporadically since he can't quite decide if fish is considered a planet-damaging meat or not. Dairy sparingly and so with eggs as well. We'll have to see how it goes.<br />
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"Obedience to the standard culture is what got the world in this place. Perhaps it is time we all felt a bit uncomfortable and tried some cultural disobedience. Meat is a luxury most of the world doesn't have. I have a whole lot of luxuries in my life and I don't need this one anymore." ~ The Barracuda<br />
<br />http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-40591803016471088022013-11-05T14:05:00.001-08:002013-11-05T14:05:37.273-08:00Plant for the Planet? "What is a coalition?" The Barracuda asked earlier this year to another passenger in our carpooling cargo van as it traveled to coal train hearings. We were all wearing our "Power Past Coal" coalition T-shirts, criss-crossing the state to speak out about tons of coal being shipped through our backyard. I smiled; he was starting to openly discuss with the other faces he saw so regularly.<br />
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"It is a bunch of people, companies, or groups that are working together for some thing they all want. Most of the time the coalition gets a name that tells you what they want or how they want to sound. Usually it is a politics thing." Responded a kite-boarder who has had an interesting political past since the Vietnam War. It was a good answer; far better than I could have provided on the fly. So very often the other people we travel with have amazing areas of interest and can give so much more information than I can. We have both learned a lot.<br />
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And that was it...for months. I thought nothing of such a question other than noting it away in the "self-directed-project-based-homeschool-is-working-so-you-can-stop-worrying-mom" folder that I keep in my head.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePq1bHITMfQ8yJEXZjLYyM7LG2syl-gYIjLdj_0vzh4DYDvr6PmkFg_33Jmb4sp5EWrYh5npIjsen85I8xzhwB9GKrYdkjePdFqiEbo6aOO3SPgxdR-yPnJXx_-QTUGlrJyxqr39lSzo/s1600/speaking+oil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePq1bHITMfQ8yJEXZjLYyM7LG2syl-gYIjLdj_0vzh4DYDvr6PmkFg_33Jmb4sp5EWrYh5npIjsen85I8xzhwB9GKrYdkjePdFqiEbo6aOO3SPgxdR-yPnJXx_-QTUGlrJyxqr39lSzo/s400/speaking+oil.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Trip Jennings</td></tr>
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Then last month we spent an epic day traveling to the last of this round of coal train hearings. In our carpool a National Geographic Explorer (his actual job title) explained fracking using cheese as a metaphor, and talked about how we need to balance personal activity with group organizing to create the large scale change. The Barracuda listened intently, thoroughly star-struck.<br />
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And that was it...for a couple of hours. I was once again happy at my son's interactions, and quite happy to have met an attractive National Geographic Explore (because that still seems incredibly cool).<br />
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But there was a kid at the hearings. A kid who spoke at the rallies, and worked with environmental groups. The Barracuda basked in the other kid, spending hours playing impromptu games and discussing their various work. <br />
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"I want to start a coalition," came out while sipping celebratory Sprite at the bar for the after party. (The Barracuda learned how to talk his way into bars on the PCT. He's become quite good at it now. I nod and smile.) "Um...yeah," was my very intelligent reply. "I want to create a Plant for the Planet chapter in Portland, but we would work through the entire Gorge," The Barracuda continued, "We can do that. I'll start networking."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's now moved on to fighting Big Oil.<br />Photo by Trip Jennings</td></tr>
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And so he did. And it appears to be going quite well. I am often surprised by the people which show up in my email asking to work with him, and the friend requests I'm getting on Facebook. He told me today that he needs to order business cards, because "they are easier to hand out than making you write contact information. I need legitimacy and having to write my mom's contact information doesn't help."<br />
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I'm still back at, "Um...okay...yeah." But that mental "homeschool works" folder is getting bigger.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-89933101377084690742013-09-15T19:49:00.000-07:002013-09-15T19:49:00.183-07:00Clocking OffThe doors have been opened to flush out the heat of an oppressive afternoon, and it is definitely time to wind down. It is time for some tea, and snuggly pants, and my book. It is time to breathe out the fullness of a day of harvesting - firewood, food, knowledge, family. It is time for the evening schoolwork to begin for The Barracuda, once he is all washed up and ready for bed. It is time to be grateful for very packed days, and remember the smiles what passed quickly - or irritably - earlier.<br />
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The Barracuda will trade out Prince Caspian (a current personal book choice) for The Fellowship of the Ring (a current schoolbook) and spend his last hour of the evening knocking out the rest of another action packed chapter. Jules will click away at the computer watching goodness-knows-what on Netflix and 'trolin around eBay. The dog will flop down on the porch, and then flop down on the living room floor, and then back out on the porch. <br />
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Each of us retreat into our quiet spaces for a bit
before Jules and I find ourselves folded up on the couches talking into
the night. What once seemed like an impossible jumble of activities and endlessly busy, chaotic days has drifted almost effortlessly into a routine of bodies moving about in a loving dance of fading light.<br />
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With tomorrow's morning will come a Latin test, grammar work, and dishes. In the heat of the afternoon, laundry will dry and bread will rise. The neighbor's dog will come and visit like always, and the boy will get dirtier/stickier/sillier than I even thought he could, like always. But for now it is a time for crickets and frogs, stillness and stars.<br />
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<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ecclesiastes%203:%201-8&version=MSG">Ecclesiastes 3:1-15 </a>or <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdjFKYZgzPc">John Lennon</a>, however you roll.</div>
http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-21990282784645137722013-09-10T05:25:00.000-07:002013-09-10T05:25:00.396-07:00QuietThe morning schoolwork is done, and the evening work has yet to begin. Tonight there will be novels to read and study guides to fill out, and I'll be creating PowerPoints for curriculum as Jules grades papers or gets all the administrative work for his classes done. But not now.<br />
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Now, I'm pulling the blue elderberries off their stems into the dutch oven for this winter's cold syrup, and just breathing in the silence. The phone hasn't rung all morning and the boys have gone fishing, so I
am left with the soft breeze blowing through the open doors of the
house. The soft plink - plink, the low metronome of the dogs panting, and the occasional thump of a happy tail hitting the floor as they are splayed out in the middle of the living room, the trees are rustling, the clothes on the line are flapping about, and all the muffled sounds remind me of just how alive the quiet can be.<br />
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No one thought to tell the weather it has become September, and we're not telling either. </div>
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<b><i>We are in the blissful lull of late summer days.</i></b></div>
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<br />http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-25022231263595512592013-09-06T05:12:00.000-07:002013-09-06T05:12:00.410-07:00Flour, Flour EverywhereThere are little, flour footprints all over the floor even though I have swept three times today. There's flour on the countertops in big splotches and small tufts. It's on my shirt, and in his hair, and I'm pretty sure if I looked, the dog might even be sporting a bit on her back. There is pretty much flour everywhere, and I'm starting to wonder just what I have gotten myself into with making these supposedly "quick rolls." Something tells me that clean up might be twice as long as the making.<br />
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But he specifically wanted to help. He rearranged his playtime and asked about it twice. These stolen moments where I'm still requested need to be cherished. As The Barracuda has gotten bigger, the desire for direct interactions with Mom is diminishing. He still wants me to be there, and to enthusiastically watch, but participating is limited to the sidelines.<br />
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So maybe the house looks like a Franz factory blew up, and maybe the dog isn't too thrilled about the taste of flour as she cleans her fur. But the boy can bathe, laundry can be done, and we still have a hour or so before Dad gets home for me to wipe down the kitchen.<br />
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Afterall, those little flour footprints aren't nearly as little as I remember them being. </div>
http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-6488717580251261712013-08-22T05:06:00.000-07:002013-08-24T16:32:15.517-07:00The Ordinary Moments<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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About 60 miles north of the Mexican border a man approached me carrying an assault rifle across his chest and a Glock in his thigh holster. He wore giant boots, and mirrored sun glasses, and for a moment I was struck by just how much the scene was that of a movie: sun beating down, his stern face and short hair, the confident way he brandished his firearm as though he could have cared less about blowing you away in the middle of the desert and no one even knowing. It was all oddly amusing until his chest was puffed out in my direction.<br />
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"What kind of ethnic are you?" he spat out. </div>
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I had no idea what to say and was quite appalled at his tone. This must have come across all too well in my body language. <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">"¿Qué tipo de</span> <span class="hps">etnia</span> <span class="hps">eres?" he shouted visibly annoyed at my lack of answer. My hand instinctively went to my Spyderco as I came around to understanding his feelings of authority. I could have cared less if I only had a 5 inch blade and he had rounds of bullets. If we were going to have it out in the desert, we were both going to walk away in severe pain. He was the border patrol. This was how he treated people whom he couldn't readily identify as American. My disgust grew immeasurably. </span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">The Barracuda was sent off to use the bathroom with a look that told him to go regardless of whether it was necessary.</span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">"I'm the American citizen kind of ethnic, Thank You. </span></span><br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps"> </span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">Soy</span> <span class="hps">un ciudadano Americano, Gracias."</span></span> </span></span></div>
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps"><i>I silently praised my two years of college Spanish and what I thought was a worthless chapter on travel.</i></span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps"> </span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">He
told me my skin was dark, my hair was weird, and I had a dark-skinned child with me.
"<i>Those sorts of people</i> don't normally hike the Pacific Crest Trail." Both The Barracuda and I</span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps"> were IDed, but I refused to empty our backpacks. I cited my rights and told him I was going to keep walking if he didn't have cause.</span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps"></span></span><br />
<center>
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">
</span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">"Piel morena no es motivo (Dark skin isn't cause)," I reminded him sternly.</span></span></div>
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps"><br /></span></span>
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps"><i>More praise went out to chapter about describing people where I thought "dark skin" seemed like a very outdated descriptor, and the woman at the DMV who worked with me to get my young child government certified picture ID. </i> </span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">It was the first of many experiences people would call brave. But I don't feel very brave here at home. I never thought I would need bravery in the small, ordinary moments of my life. Turns out, I do. </span></span><br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps"></span></span><br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">Turns out the bravery necessary on a grand adventure is so minimal compared to the bravery needed to continue doing the dishes, to fold the laundry, to make dinner...again. When all you have to do is walk forward, there is nothing but progress. Every step, every breath, every day, you are progressing forward toward your goals. Here at home, all there is is faith. Tiny moments of miraculous faith that tomorrow will turn out okay, that you are doing the right things, that in the end the moments will all fit together into something larger than yourself. </span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">For quite a few months I'd cook, I'd clean, I'd
study, I'd work, I'd laugh, but in the end, when I really looked, it was fear which was really steering everything forward -
forward, so I didn't have to realize it was right on my heels
threatening to take me alive if I stopped. <br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps"><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">It is a funny thing that happens when you decide to be straight up with yourself about what is going on. Up until then all you get are glimpses of the problem in the reactions of others. </span></span><br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps"><br />
</span></span><br />
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So I decided to catch the fear by surprise, pin it underneath my
laundry basket, and sit on top until it agreed to leave me alone. <br />
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<i><b><br /></b></i>
<i><b>Faith feels a whole lot better.</b></i></div>
http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-34888172339390745902013-07-17T06:00:00.000-07:002013-07-17T06:00:09.397-07:00Sweet Summer NightsThey are laughing on the porch again. The creative writing lessons Jules has begun to give a couple times a week are over for the evening. They have shared their stories and life moments each found interesting, critiqued the use of descriptive adjectives to create imagery in the setting, but now the conversation has digressed into just talking. In many ways, I recognizing this creative writing to be much more a segue into the teenage years.<br />
<br />
From the couch in the living room, I do my obligatory email and Facebook checks while I hear them both smiling from ear to ear. And then quiet. So quiet all there is, is the dog huffing as she looks longingly at the door. Then 2 pffh's just seconds apart, a small plink as the BB hits, and more squeals of delight. The boy is becoming quite a shot and Dad is now having to really try. As it gets dark, The Barracuda begins to chatter. He will talk about anything and everything. Talk, and talk, and TALK. A word gets fit in edgewise here and there by Jules, a clarifying question or two, but generally the idea is just to listen. Listen, and laugh, and banter back and forth in a decidedly male way.<br />
<br />
I'm inside making tea and trying to figure out just what late night snack I'd like to share with Jules. The changing of the guard happens when The Barracuda goes to bed. Then Jules is mine. We get to sit out on the dock and chatter together (though I must admit, I'm the talker). By that time, the swallows will have been replaced by the bats as they dance about eating all the insects. By that time, the stress of the day will have melted off. By that time, we will be able to just be adults dating again. He'll have wine; I'll have tea. He'll be sweating in a T shirt and shorts; I'll be wearing my favorite wool hoodie and snuggly sweats. He'll have on two pairs of socks and sneakers; my feet will be bare. It is the same all 77 days of these long, slow summer nights, but it never gets old.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
It is on these nights that I remember we live in a land of postcards, in a place that time forgot. </div>
http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-85490671831527519152013-07-10T07:21:00.000-07:002013-07-10T11:29:39.242-07:00At It Again!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The usage of trains to cart strip mined coal from Montana and Wyoming is
looking less and less likely in Washington State. The projects are far
from dead, but they are wounded quite heavily. In the fall, we begin
working again with high school students, and once again <a href="http://www.endofordinary.blogspot.com/2013/02/fighting-good-fight.html">taking trips up to Olympia</a> to talk with Governor Insley. For now, our attentions have
turned to Oregon's Department of Environmental Quality.<br />
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With a new proposal to now barge <a href="http://earthfix.opb.org/energy/article/public-hearings-underway-for-columbia-river-coal-p/">9 million metric tons of coal down the Columbia River</a>, our household has once again mobilized to take on this impending environmental threat. As much as coal trains bothered me, coal barges make me borderline nauseous. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDo40h9KD2h7jSdfTrdmF1roMu73SHlIhnImjZhKWybGN1dQXJvGTcmmpYSzEE-n5UcCAvzrXjF4C3nPaBpUHrwgLfS6v1fuxzHfOlkTMkEnivRRzcu-2yIjkwfv3kiThOzKQQp5YChxI/s1600/DSCF8560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDo40h9KD2h7jSdfTrdmF1roMu73SHlIhnImjZhKWybGN1dQXJvGTcmmpYSzEE-n5UcCAvzrXjF4C3nPaBpUHrwgLfS6v1fuxzHfOlkTMkEnivRRzcu-2yIjkwfv3kiThOzKQQp5YChxI/s400/DSCF8560.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Starbucks cram session to work out timing for his testimony and the inflections. You only get 2 minutes, and the surroundings are pretty intense.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At this point, The Barracuda knows the drill quite readily. The speaking isn't his point of focus as much as the organizing which goes in to play. He actively watches how the various groups interact, the positive aspects of each testimony, the things opponents are doing, the ways the gatherings could be more successful. He's into the networking now. I don't exactly know where that is going to take us next, but it is definitely an unexpected turn of events.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Clean Energy Bike Brigade took to the streets in a parade while people marched with a giant blue fabric river waving in the wind over their heads. Behind them, a flash mob danced to blaring rock music. It was a pretty cool production.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />
The rally was quite enjoyable, even with the extreme
heat. Heavy, bright red T-Shirts aren't normally the chosen attire in
high 80's temperatures, but at least everyone was sweating together. As
always, Portland's signature flare came out in style. There was a
clean energy bicycle brigade, loud rock music, and a flash mob. It has
been quite neat to expose The Barracuda to all different types of
protest. I'm enjoying watching him develop his ideas and become
stronger in his knowledge of political action.<br />
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Since it is the summer, this was the first of The Barracuda's testimony which Jules could attend. He got to finally watch the process from speech writing, to signing in and practicing, to speaking. He got to see how many people know our son now, and are proud of him. As a homeschooling parent, you sometimes get nervous that perhaps your judgements about your children are skewed. I mean, who isn't just a bit biased about their awesome, gorgeous, hard working, brilliant, fill-in-other-incredible-adjectives kid. But watching my son grow in his confidence, craft a persuasive argument, deliver the rhetoric, and network with adults of various ages in a field he is interested in shows me that maybe I'm not totally off the mark.<br />
<br />
People don't discount The Barracuda now; they get the cameras ready when we walk up to the microphone. I often times have to help him readjust the height, or the chair, but people watch in anticipation instead of "oh-isnt-that-cute" faces. I still don't know how he does it, but once he starts to speak, he's got you. Today was no different.<br />
<br />
Perched up on his knees to be able to reach the audio equipment he began:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><b><span style="color: #4c1130;">Hi, my name is [The Barracuda]. I am here to ask for your help. I need you to stop the coal barges. </span></b></span></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><b><span style="color: #4c1130;">I have no power. I can't vote. I'm not the governor. I don't sit on a fancy board or commission. I am only 8. I am just a kid. </span></b></span></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><b><span style="color: #4c1130;">But I do matter. I am a human being. I live on this planet too, and you are deciding my future. </span></b></span></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><b><span style="color: #4c1130;">Coal barges will change the dynamics of the Columbia River. Coal and coal dust will fall off the barges into the river, killing the fish. Both wildlife and people depend on the fish. The osprey, eagles, heron, and many other of the birds our area is known for require the fish to live. Coal dust in the water will become coal dust in the fish. The precious salmon who are currently fighting to come back from extinction will be threatened again. Their eggs and spawning grounds will be disrupted by the coal causing the populations to drop again. </span></b></span></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><b><span style="color: #4c1130;">Native people have built their lives around the salmon. As a culture, we haven't been very nice to Native Americans. We tell them they are in the way. We move them and kill their ways of life. Isn't it time we stop that? They are human beings. Just like me. Just like you. </span></b></span></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><b><span style="color: #4c1130;">I recognize people need money to live. It is important. But the paradise of our Gorge is also important. The water is important. The fish and birds are important. A future for kids like me is important. </span></b></span></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><b><span style="color: #4c1130;">So, I need your help now. I need you to stop this. Thank You. </span></b></span></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><b><span style="color: #4c1130;">Please be responsible with my future. My generation trusts you.</span></b></span></span></span></blockquote>
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http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-30752569897830212052013-06-07T04:21:00.000-07:002013-06-07T04:21:00.071-07:00Winding DownRight now is a rather giant time of transition for our family. <br />
<br />
Jules is finishing out his school year, looking back at what worked and what didn't. He is trying to figure out a way to find balance between state test prep and teaching actual content. (In theory those things are supposed to go together, but let's be real.) As much as he enjoys watching his students anxiety go down and their first feelings of quantifiable success, (very few of these students would consider themselves good testers, and almost none would call themselves academic), it can be a difficult place for a person who greatly loves teaching. Moreover, mitigating the sheer amount of paperwork which test prep tends to bring home is quite a challenge. <br />
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On the home front, I have now officially ended our homeschool year as far as the State of Washington is concerned. Schooling doesn't really stop; The Barracuda is way too routine neurotic for that. However, we are leaving our umbrella charter school this year, and homeschooling solo as of August. I get to jump head first into "organizing" our homeschool life to meet state requirements. I'm anxious about that because this sort of administrative organization is difficult for me to stick with, but an important place for me to stretch myself. Moreover, is a giant leap of faith for Jules. He believes in me, and has frequently gone above and beyond in his support.<br />
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<br />
The Barracuda is
somewhere between 2-4 years ahead in school and will be entering middle
school next year in subjects he dislikes, and high school in subjects
he loves. That's hard when you are 8. It is even harder living in a rural community where peer groups aren't rampant. Add to this the fact your mom is an extreme INTJ, and you don't really have a great mix. <br />
<br />
I am an INTJ according to Myers-Briggs and a rather strong one. As an introverted thinker who lives most of her life inside her head, I tend to plan rather compulsively. I am extremely process oriented, detest surprises, and loves the clear lines of logical routine. However, I live with two rather intense feelers. Jules is an INFJ and The Barracuda is almost my complete opposite, ENFP. This isn't unheard of. In fact, it is exceptionally common since INTJ women are estimated at less than 0.8% of the population. It merely means that I find my self quite frequently <strike>losing my crap</strike> taking a series of deep breaths.<br />
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It is extremely difficult for me to find the logic behind a feeler's actions. It is equally difficult to have a conversation with someone who feels all the time. To those who tend to see my analysis as somehow exhausting, I often wonder how on earth people can feel so much without being exhausted to the point of insanity.<br />
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That said, I'm very glad they have each other. I would be a rather terrible parent without Jules (and The Barracuda would be walking all over him if I wasn't fairly immune to cuteness). What I used to think of as "gender gu-gu," I now see as the ability to negotiate feelings. Jules commiserates, snuggles, and somehow knows just what to say and how to read people. I, on the other hand, know exactly how to plan and enact a strategy to fit most any situation if you give me the access to the Internet and enough information to create contingency plans. Give me the problem and I will solve it. I can't tell you how you feel about it, or mitigate your emotional meltdown, but I can get the problem fixed.<br />
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Right now, planning isn't needed. My little ENFP is quite a perfectionist and has his life pretty darn planned. We have figured all those things out. My INFJ doesn't need me to "fix" anything in his classroom, he needs to feel like he is imparting more than high marks on standardized testing. What is needed are Dad's hugs, silly games they play together, a rite of passage or two, and some time out on the front porch together. <br />
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Together, they can lean on each other.</div>
<br />http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-58143868721901180972013-05-16T05:14:00.000-07:002013-05-16T05:14:00.592-07:00T. S. Elliot is my Homeboy<br />
The emotional difficulties which arose from our hike weren't anything I could have foreseen. Moreover, the reactions of both the trail community and our local community threw me for a complete loop. It has taken a full year, but as a family we're over it. The hike was ours, and somewhere I along the line I forgot that. I don't know if any other hikes are going to be posted up for the world to see, or if I'm going to take the route The Barracuda has and just don't talk about it.<br />
<br />
<i> I am no prophet–and here's no great matter;
<br /> I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
<br /> And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
<br /> And in short, I was afraid. </i><br />
<br />
Alone. It was a hard word for me to come to terms with. In fact, I completely buried myself in the act of hiking with the thought that somehow - if I just searched hard enough - it wouldn't be true. Hundreds of miles later, months back home, I must surrender the fantasy: it is. In life, we are all alone. Our experience is uniquely ours and no one else will ever truly get it. We cut ourselves open trying to explain - our vulnerabilities strewn out on the table. We talk and we bleed - grasping at anyone who we think might see our world. This fact has haunted me for almost a year. If I didn't let go, it was going to haunt me forever.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i><br /><i> And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
<br /> The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
<br /> And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
<br /> When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
<br /> Then how should I begin
<br /> To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
<br /> And how should I presume?
</i>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
All the eyes of the world which try to pigeon hole me, pigeon hole us - those who decide their version of reality is somehow better, more holy, more noble - please expound upon how fabulous your life is and how I somehow must just not get it. Please, let me see how I've missed the point at how great being you is and how small, crazy, profane, insert-your-favorite-detestible-adjective, I must be.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> I should have been a pair of ragged claws
<br /> Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I've spent quite a few nights sitting up till 3 am running circles in my head. I've spent a lot of time as an angry basket case. However, when I look around, I'm still here with Jules on one side and The Barracuda on the other. They are here not wanting or asking anything more than for me to return to myself. They want me to remember and know that my little life, our little family, and the small moments which no one else seems to recognize are what make me, me. It is enough for them, and once it was enough for me too.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> And would it have been worth it, after all,
<br /> After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
<br /> Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
<br /> Would it have been worth while, </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
<br /> To have squeezed the universe into a ball
<br /> To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
<br /> To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
<br /> Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all!"
</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm now learning to be quiet. I'm learning to not rage against the moon or rail against society. The Barracuda is my great teacher because knows this already. Somewhere in him he has already decided to not be boastful, but to strive for his own sake. Patiently he smiles. Often he goes along with whatever some one needs to think. Only later will he inform me that they were wrong, and drop some pearl of wisdom about life. He has learned how pointless it is to try and please others. For all too often, they only wish to tear you apart for their own pleasure.<br /> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> And indeed there will be time
<br /> To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> Do I dare
<br /> Disturb the universe?
<br /> In a minute there is time
<br /> For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. </i> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And so I begin again. The PCT was my giant reset button. I traveled back to the soul murdering days of early high school quite unexpectedly, but thankfully have once again dropped out of the general population. Our life allows us to be hermits tucked away in our tiny one room cabin way out in the woods. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> Let us go then, you and I,
<br /> When the evening is spread out against the sky
<br /> Like a patient etherized upon a table; </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> To lead you to an overwhelming question. . .
<br /> Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
<br /> Let us go and make our visit. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I don't know how many of you are still out there which wish to make a visit to quieter places tucked away in the forest, but for the moment, that is where we are residing. We're thinking of getting bees, the orchard is going to be coming via FedEx any day now to be planted, stacks of books are being plowed through, bread rises most afternoons in the mid-day heat, blankets are on knitting needles and final stitches are being put in quilts, homeschool is kicking into full swing, and we have mountain summits we are eagerly planning. Our life is ours again...and that feels far better than I ever could have imagined.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-55781146144001615882013-04-23T05:21:00.000-07:002013-04-23T05:21:00.521-07:00The Bike<br />
<br />
Somewhere around 1800 miles into the PCT, The Barracuda decided that he wanted to triathlon. Well, okay... <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JUcjpBy7kS84xubrVfXaasGmO9Z3pjR2AFawRWP_Lu1Gg7z-Qoa3vmZDlCzo3gX3I_3tZPy_JHxkHd2L7moa-qglwA65GBUCq_i51hZm2NHzf18O994LqaLhhr8l6v_Qj6NExXfvtXA/s1600/DSCF8071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JUcjpBy7kS84xubrVfXaasGmO9Z3pjR2AFawRWP_Lu1Gg7z-Qoa3vmZDlCzo3gX3I_3tZPy_JHxkHd2L7moa-qglwA65GBUCq_i51hZm2NHzf18O994LqaLhhr8l6v_Qj6NExXfvtXA/s400/DSCF8071.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He did 20 mile days on his heavy-as-all-get-out stainless steel little Schwinn Gremlin. Lord only knows what he will be doing in clipless pedals with his new carbon fiber Felt! I'm already exhausted.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It has taken months, a whole lot of research, and a bit of help from our tax return, but we finally found a kid's triathlon bike. After a 3 hour professional fitting, it's now his. I've called the pediatric sports therapist (whose children I'm putting through Harvard at this point), and training has begun.<br />
<br />
We hit the pool for two hour sessions twice a week to work on his freestyle. We run the other three days. He rides for continuous half hour intervals four times a day to practice form, endurance, and shifting. We work on breathing technique and meditation for 20 minutes every morning to calm his lungs, his heart rate, and <a href="http://zenhabits.net/guide-to-achieving-flow-and-happiness-in-your-work/">find "flow"</a>. <br />
<br />
At this point I don't think it would be possible for us to stop homeschooling. There just wouldn't be time. Luckily, he can peddle while we do English and Latin. I can speak Spanish to him while we work on swimming form. We can calculate mileage, heart rate, intervals, and race dynamics for math. <br />
<br />
I remind myself that every day we are training for the summits later this summer, and the Appalachian Trail in a couple years. I remind myself that top colleges are now focusing <a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/04/04/who-got-in-to-the-country-s-top-colleges.html">on both academics and significant life pursuits.</a> I remind myself that the primary goal of a parent is to support their children in becoming individuals. All of these thoughts bombard me as I hear, "Mom?!" and crawl deeper into the warmth of the covers to escape running. They come back again before I jump into the freezing cold pool water (why can't they just heat that water, I mean seriously!). On the plus side, my abs are thanking me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-66354564058614684962013-03-13T22:24:00.000-07:002013-03-13T22:29:55.223-07:00Are You Not Warriors?!Governor Kitzhaber of Oregon has to make a decision about the Morrow Pacific Coal Terminal on April 1st. It decides whether coal can be loaded onto giant barges and shipped down the Columbia River. That means only one thing in our household: A protest.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi85ZIxOTZ820Qa9V_cgf51rSRDMGIKCUNk5m4AKgZWr3rgRnF2TdTcpTt7hYemURQuFyhGTA8p1kLg-cTIM1_PsCaPf8Oeklx84ecFUqgGvE6XS8_yUqSH_ZMG023mAmTDzZO5KggzYOw/s1600/signs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi85ZIxOTZ820Qa9V_cgf51rSRDMGIKCUNk5m4AKgZWr3rgRnF2TdTcpTt7hYemURQuFyhGTA8p1kLg-cTIM1_PsCaPf8Oeklx84ecFUqgGvE6XS8_yUqSH_ZMG023mAmTDzZO5KggzYOw/s400/signs.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm noticing the choice of wording from my son is becoming increasingly more militant</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The Power Past Coal Coalition put together the <a href="http://soundthealarmforclimatechange.org/3/miscellaneous4.htm">Sound the Alarm Event</a>. Where people took to the streets to make a lot of noise with bells, harmonicas, drums and whistles. We sounded the alarm on climate change in a rather obnoxious way. It was quite fun, even if a bit over-the-top.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2vCGpMPc_L3cOodeBQDN5DsT4EU_5Xr6jtjDlaVVAHNn8eD7ff2gwytbaHX8rfyDY6ouwfQNf4sD3Usmu_-T4rG-lHCWzqtq8_54WJOxiKVqKvIaPDEm-YCAIz8yXh0F2pKZD_7FuYfs/s1600/People+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2vCGpMPc_L3cOodeBQDN5DsT4EU_5Xr6jtjDlaVVAHNn8eD7ff2gwytbaHX8rfyDY6ouwfQNf4sD3Usmu_-T4rG-lHCWzqtq8_54WJOxiKVqKvIaPDEm-YCAIz8yXh0F2pKZD_7FuYfs/s400/People+(2).JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We chanted such nerdy renditions as "Lead, Arsenic, Mer-cur-y; keep your poisons off of me!" and "Pre-si-dent Obama, we don't want no cli-mate drama!" and the ever popular "Hey, Hey! Ho, Ho! Dirty coal has got to go!"<br />
<br />
<br />
But this wasn't like other protests we have been involved in before. For this one, The Barracuda was asked to speak. When members of the Sierra Club ask you to do a call to action address directed at the governor, it isn't polite to say no.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC0RwOcJkvkLxZmG3awjM7D-LJq0llE4FIUWfTwoLWFg_ENcCGjr61n5ohB1qr0e6j0meC8-gBKzSYo1zLnLnUMbwvFEillTGd0pD5u3K65wEJkB6KbxaWDMgkNc0tblP34lB5XZ3vNUc/s1600/Photo+Ops.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC0RwOcJkvkLxZmG3awjM7D-LJq0llE4FIUWfTwoLWFg_ENcCGjr61n5ohB1qr0e6j0meC8-gBKzSYo1zLnLnUMbwvFEillTGd0pD5u3K65wEJkB6KbxaWDMgkNc0tblP34lB5XZ3vNUc/s400/Photo+Ops.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Ops are becoming increasingly prevalent in this child's life. Many organizations know him as the kid who talks about coal. He keeps showing up; he keeps speaking out; and now he is beginning to get some serious press. Two more speaking arrangements were booked before we left.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And so we pulled up every historical call-to-action speech I could think of. We read them with the fervor of John Calvin in the living room quite a few times before Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death was decided to be the favorite and The Barracuda got to writing. He'd never spoken to a crowd this size before, nor had he ever been in front of a group quite this exuberant carrying noise-makers. For the first time, I actually saw him nervous.<br />
<br />
When his name was called, he stoically walked up the steps, took the mic, and this is what he said: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-family: Arial Black, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We
are all gathered here to let the governor know that Climate Change is
a problem which must be stopped. <span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">It's
hard to accept the truth when the lies were exactly what you wanted
to hear. But Governor, this is the truth: our world is being
destroyed.</span></span></span></span></span></blockquote>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-family: Arial Black, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">I</span>f we do not stop it, the world will become a flat,
barren island. Our precious river will become a highway for dirty,
coal driven money at the expense of your children's quality of life.
My quality of life. You have the power to stop this. You are the
controller of this state. We have the power to wake you up, to sound
the alarm, to let you know that this needs to stop.</span></span></span></span></span></blockquote>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-family: Arial Black, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They
tell
us we are weak; and unable to fight the power of the corporate greed.
But, when shall we be stronger? Will it be tomorrow? Will
it be next week, or in a few years? Will it be when the our sacred
river is polluted to the point there are no more salmon? Will it be
when the parts per million of carbon in the air is over 400? Will it
be when all the coal is ripped off every mountain top and all oil is
drug up from every pristine place beneath our feet?</span></span></span></blockquote>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-family: Arial Black, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This
impacts us now. Not two years from now, not thirty years from now,
but now. There is no time for us to wait. For in waiting we will
have destroyed our home, our waters, and our Nation. We not really
acting for the Gorge alone. We are acting for all of humanity.</span></span></span></blockquote>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-family: Arial Black, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">We
may be weak when separated, but united we are powerful. We may be
quiet separated, but united we are forceful. How long are
you going to let other people decide the future of your children? Are
you not warriors? It is time to stop talking and start doing. Long
ago when our ancestors rode into battle, they did not know what the
outcome was going to be, but they did it because they knew it was in
the best interest of the children and the people. Do not operate from
a place of fear. Operate from a place of hope.The <span style="font-size: small;">beauty of life is, while we <span style="font-size: small;">can<span style="font-size: small;">not undo what is done<span style="font-size: small;">, we can se<span style="font-size: small;">e it, understand it, learn from it and change. So that every new mo<span style="font-size: small;">ment is spent not in regret, guilt, fear or anger, bu<span style="font-size: small;">t in wisdom, understanding, and love. We cannot undo the damage that has already been done. T<span style="font-size: small;">he past is gone. But we an make a new fu<span style="font-size: small;">ture<span style="font-size: small;">.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="line-height: 200%; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 200%; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
</div>
</blockquote>
<br />
People frequently forget that my son is only just over 4 feet tall and cannot see over a podium or rest his notes on items normally at an adult's height. He often has to hold a hand mic and try to make it work. It is awkward, but he is working on it. He often has to carry around a blue milk crate to put down and then climb up upon so that he can view his audience. He often gets looks of "oh, isn't he cute" which quickly turn into looks of surprise as he begins his introduction. This instance was no different. If you would like to watch the terrible YouTube video I took, here it is. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/A8-0qzm6lxI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
(YouTube tells me it will be correctly oriented shortly. If not, just wrench your neck to the side or close your eyes)http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-53013544966267302102013-02-26T23:59:00.002-08:002013-02-27T01:01:08.868-08:00Fighting the Good FightIn the last two months, we've visited our state capitol and will soon visit others to rally on their front steps.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJslsATb-XZzsvtex77-dwkinbv2Ih5x_dnm5RTQWOzZkrj5ToLD-M5i-FWpI4MkCR8vZ0TbyypdwP5PI2y6KY_ZGlJcj_dwajQtQmXUC9z5L1FsGp-YG13r_EbotPnE8effnbHLrtIO8/s1600/DSCF7599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJslsATb-XZzsvtex77-dwkinbv2Ih5x_dnm5RTQWOzZkrj5ToLD-M5i-FWpI4MkCR8vZ0TbyypdwP5PI2y6KY_ZGlJcj_dwajQtQmXUC9z5L1FsGp-YG13r_EbotPnE8effnbHLrtIO8/s400/DSCF7599.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Barracuda and I in Olympia advocating for climate change legislation<br />
and against coal trains.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We've spoken to Senators and Representatives, ridden in carpools to events, and are currently planning our own.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLfSNAn9ndtuP1e-aoega3iOjL-gDNpWG3xarlDqB6P-kHsiDyT2l_h8uExwrNOR2CSwzKp1DELX3szveff2EpY-oXo_le49PoDl2iX7DTqtFOMGceCAGtTCDxGfANsbTFbH6229pHnbc/s1600/DSCF7595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLfSNAn9ndtuP1e-aoega3iOjL-gDNpWG3xarlDqB6P-kHsiDyT2l_h8uExwrNOR2CSwzKp1DELX3szveff2EpY-oXo_le49PoDl2iX7DTqtFOMGceCAGtTCDxGfANsbTFbH6229pHnbc/s400/DSCF7595.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Speaking with Senator King, a die hard republican<br />
and corporate interest supporter.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We've gone to meetings, written letters, and networked with everyone from the Sierra Club, to Power Past Coal, to Earth Ministries, and Peaceful Uprising.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAADemeJBMhAGD9vfwbH2QBZqQj6AYwx1gN-UchzlWYESF5lSE216c_RlPRTFmA1J6sGE3j1cilfmnlBRmesbLM3Fqcqik67img8Lh5tBrXD-CUGFllocv0ByZE5nYHtwhX_syPwkTmA4/s1600/DSCF7602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAADemeJBMhAGD9vfwbH2QBZqQj6AYwx1gN-UchzlWYESF5lSE216c_RlPRTFmA1J6sGE3j1cilfmnlBRmesbLM3Fqcqik67img8Lh5tBrXD-CUGFllocv0ByZE5nYHtwhX_syPwkTmA4/s400/DSCF7602.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Listening to Governor Inslee and celebrating his<br />
Carbon Action Plan Bill as it hit the floor that morning.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We've watched movies, discussed civil disobedience, and signed up to list serves about radical acts against climate change.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIQ9RY1_g89VAPnPYagO_BnOu9vh5uuDUe4gRmtG_vcmR3Z5P6IEo6B_VyDJWSEyNo-DPqO2FyVvKEsEJBoXGGSVfGXsTAeRdGQprSgumpJsyhoZZuuC4LIIBYrxt_RsU1hxcJUDMiyFc/s1600/Bidder+70.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIQ9RY1_g89VAPnPYagO_BnOu9vh5uuDUe4gRmtG_vcmR3Z5P6IEo6B_VyDJWSEyNo-DPqO2FyVvKEsEJBoXGGSVfGXsTAeRdGQprSgumpJsyhoZZuuC4LIIBYrxt_RsU1hxcJUDMiyFc/s400/Bidder+70.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching the documentary <u>Bidder 70 </u>and being informed<br />
repeatedly he cannot get arrested for civil disobedience until 16.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We've watched video after video about the science of carbon emissions, coal trains, and strip mining.<br />
We've built models of wind turbines, solar panels, and read up on the damaging affects of hydro power.<br />
<br />
Local high schoolers are now writing letters, The Barracuda is planning an upcoming National Environmental Policy Act training, and has become the chair of a local Kids Against Coal Commission. <br />
<br />
Somewhere in all of this, life has gone on. But I am soon coming to realize as <a href="http://www.oregonlive.com/mapes/index.ssf/2013/01/judge_slams_coos_bay_port_for.html">court cases</a> are won, <a href="http://blog.seattlepi.com/seattlepolitics/2013/02/19/gov-kitzhaber-mayor-mcginn-no-to-coal-exports/">governors and mayors speak out</a>, <a href="http://tdn.com/news/local/millennium-coal-dock-still-on-hold-one-year-after-filing/article_34089370-7d59-11e2-a491-0019bb2963f4.html">permits are stalled</a>, and <a href="http://www.thepetitionsite.com/272/372/898/protect-sacred-lummi-lands-from-dirty-coal/">petitions signed</a> that he might actually win. All this work might not have been in vain. There are still years left till we know and many more battles to be fought, but it is possible and looking more likely every day.<br />
<br />
So we soldier on. Martin Luther King almost every other day. Sometimes with The Barracuda, but mostly just for myself. More often than not I find myself back at A Letter From Birmingham Jail: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><span style="color: #4c1130;"> "So let him march; let him make prayer
pilgrimages
to the city hall; let him go on freedom rides -and try to understand why he must do so. If
his repressed
emotions are not released in nonviolent ways, they will seek expression through violence;
this is not a
threat but a fact of history. So I have not said to my people: "Get rid of your
discontent." Rather, I have
tried to say that this normal and healthy discontent can be channeled into the creative
outlet of
nonviolent direct action. And now this approach is being termed extremist.
But though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I
continued to
think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label. Was
not Jesus an
extremist for love: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that
hate you, and
pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you." Was not Amos an extremist
for justice:
"Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream." Was not
Paul an
extremist for the Christian gospel: "I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus." Was
not Martin
Luther an extremist: "Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise, so help me God." And John
Bunyan: "I will
stay in jail to the end of my days before I make a butchery of my conscience." And Abraham
Lincoln:
"This nation cannot survive half slave and half free." And Thomas Jefferson: "We hold
these truths to
be self evident, that all men are created equal . . ." So the question is not whether we
will be
extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for
love? Will we be
extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice?"</span></b></blockquote>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
I can only hope that as we continue I will remember.</div>
<br />http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-6645318579494884522012-12-13T18:47:00.003-08:002012-12-13T18:48:45.299-08:00One Kid Against Climate Change<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.powerpastcoal.org/"><img alt="http://mjcdn.motherjones.com/preset_16/beyond-coal425.jpg" class="decoded" src="http://mjcdn.motherjones.com/preset_16/beyond-coal425.jpg" title="" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We have always been a politically active family. The Barracuda's first camping trip was an old growth logging protest along the PCT. By 4 he could explain global warming and felt a strong desire for our household to be personally active against it. We always watch the President speaking and regard it as our responsibility as citizens. The Daily Show and Colbert Report have been household dinner companions frequently since he was 2. There aren't many car trips which don't involve NPR before music. These sorts of things. So, it should come as no surprise to me when earlier in the week The Barracuda announces a desire to go to one of the Scoping hearings occurring for discussion about the coal trains.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Up for proposal is the largest coal production in the United States with direct exportation to China and South Korea. The coal would come from Montana and be trained through our neighboring town and all along the Columbia River Gorge. This would increase the current coal trains from somewhere between 4 to 10 a day, to one passing for 30 minutes of every hour, 24 hours a day. We are talking a whole lot of coal. Actually, very few people are talking about it and that is kind of scary. To find out more,<a href="http://www.powerpastcoal.org/"> go here.</a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAxhPY9zIFPHC-dYVYxJ3sb_1szRIunA1htHnL4iiIUPRkiSce81dvYBdgft3KUWD7gkB8ssR-OOb0Q-Sce3vxMJWRxBlDmazQHKBdNfpQ-r8oEcx_PlG4SNwiU6wb0l7hx69WmqmIxSE/s1600/DSCF7040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAxhPY9zIFPHC-dYVYxJ3sb_1szRIunA1htHnL4iiIUPRkiSce81dvYBdgft3KUWD7gkB8ssR-OOb0Q-Sce3vxMJWRxBlDmazQHKBdNfpQ-r8oEcx_PlG4SNwiU6wb0l7hx69WmqmIxSE/s640/DSCF7040.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As usual, he was the only kid at the press conference. By now he is used to that and it doesn't bother him.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The Barracuda feels this is irresponsible. He doesn't think it is very forward thinking. He doesn't like that such corporate decisions are being made as quickly as possible during the holiday season where people are busy. Apparently, he has been thinking about it a lot and decided to go and let important people know about it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>"They don't have to listen to me, but I need to speak." </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
How exactly does one turn down your child when they say things like that?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This found us traveling by bus for over an hour each way to the local college to attend the press conference and then the hearings. Along the way, The Barracuda asked me if I would take down what he wanted to say. From watching others, he knows how easily you can forget what you intend to deliver and how quickly 2 minutes can go. So I took dictation as stoically as I could as the bus slowly got quieter and quieter when they realized what The Barracuda was doing. No one expected him to speak. They just thought I was forcing him to go. When they realized, they began talking to him like an actual person and preparing him for what he might encounter.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Since this was a formal hearing, The Barracuda had to provide a written statement of his testimony, his full name, address, and agree to allow what he said to be added to both the video record and the official transcript being documented by a stenographer. No one was allowed to clap, the room had to be incredibly quiet, and the microphone was physically shut down at 2 minutes and 5 seconds. There was a timer directly in your face so you could see where you were on the time limit. It was much more intense than we had ever been to before. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It was also a lottery. That means anyone who wants to speak is given a ticket and only a certain number of tickets are pulled each hour. Luckily, we got called. The Barracuda was number 55 of 60. So we listened to scientists, teachers, grandparents, business owners and citizens all talk about their concerns. We listened for over 2 and a half hours until it was his turn.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFMEH9NdmpaOCUhp8CHG7Q29kSf8RgamZE4qq2tBLVuXd6XV1ImsrD-vWsQek__XDUtKUpYlfRiGNTKzlPKk_B7Q86IoQWJMN4VulWirEPkFfqWdWPqpDproWO2SZLvsqtS431ViX1Zo/s1600/DSCF7053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFMEH9NdmpaOCUhp8CHG7Q29kSf8RgamZE4qq2tBLVuXd6XV1ImsrD-vWsQek__XDUtKUpYlfRiGNTKzlPKk_B7Q86IoQWJMN4VulWirEPkFfqWdWPqpDproWO2SZLvsqtS431ViX1Zo/s400/DSCF7053.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He was undaunted by the formality and spoke as if somehow this happened every day. I was a total wreck.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
His testimony went as follows:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Hi. My name is Dae. I am here to ask you to stop the coal trains. </blockquote>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I understand that this is a lot of money. I understand that people want jobs. I understand that families in China and Asia want to heat their homes. </blockquote>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I want that too. I want my future family to have jobs, money, food and warmth. I want my future children to have a world they can play in that is beautiful. </blockquote>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
In your generation it might not matter. But, in my generation it might. In my generation it will affect climate change. In my generation it will affect the ecosystem. </blockquote>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I know that people are worried about having a job. They are scared because they want their kids to be safe and happy. I want that for my kids. </blockquote>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I am scared, too. </blockquote>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I can't fix this. I have no power. No one in my generation does. I am 8. I can't be a governor. I can't sit on a board to decide things. I can't even vote. </blockquote>
</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
All I can do is trust you to make the right decision. To think of me. To think of my generation. To think about a future from now where we will be trying desperately to fix a broken planet. </blockquote>
</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Thank you. Please be responsible with my future. </blockquote>
</blockquote>
Some people clapped, even though they weren't supposed to. Some people cried a little, even though they tried to look like they weren't. Some people gave him hugs and some gave him high fives.<br />
<br />
We went into the after-room for some snacks and found the mayor of Vancouver there. He spoke at the press conference, so The Barracuda knew who he was. The Barracuda thanked the mayor for standing up against the coal trains even though it could get him fired (not re-elected). He told him it was a brave decision and he was glad someone was standing up for the next generation and the future. The mayor thanked him for the exact same thing. They shook hands. It was pretty cool. The mayor went on to say, "You aren't really powerless you know. You have the power to influence people just like me. Judging from what you just did in there, you're pretty good at it." The Barracuda smiled and thanked him while they both continued to eat snacks as though they were just two guys hanging out on campus.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil4UA3tvMhUbBSIEq1xQivq4TSJM9mMF5kOO_LkDdkn-zTmy8BkkIMVY2z18FJUfGZYuRRoEBBdfw-PmX59oyfUCasF1etIALUwh1SROPWw7DFg8dezL_EVbgVArx-jdC1Lb8MKI20vPk/s1600/DSCF7049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil4UA3tvMhUbBSIEq1xQivq4TSJM9mMF5kOO_LkDdkn-zTmy8BkkIMVY2z18FJUfGZYuRRoEBBdfw-PmX59oyfUCasF1etIALUwh1SROPWw7DFg8dezL_EVbgVArx-jdC1Lb8MKI20vPk/s400/DSCF7049.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first of many potential political encounters. I'm very glad this one went well. Thank You, Mr. Mayor.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As the night turned cold and rainy we all boarded our bus once more and headed home. There was much talk of where to go from here. Beer was broken out, hummus passed around, political contacts swapped and strategy debated. The Barracuda is working on a letter to the editor of the local newspapers. He wants to hold a NEPA (National Environmental Policy Act) training so people better understand how the appeals, scoping, and hearing process works when companies violate or deliberately limit an EIS (Environmental Impact Statements). He attended NEPA 101 that was held when I worked for an anti-logging organization way back when. Apparently some of it stuck.<br />
<br />
It is an odd feeling to be back on the political lines. It is even odder to be in a complete role reversal - this time I'm following my child. Our children are very powerful when we let them be - when we allow them to care about issues, when we support them in their pursuit to be heard, when we provide them the tools to educate themselves and others. I can only imagine what the next 6 months will look like, but he's pretty fired up.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Watch out world, here comes one kid against climate change!</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-24201468514285381562012-11-23T08:14:00.000-08:002012-11-23T08:14:00.313-08:00Becoming A Wild Woman<div style="text-align: left;">
Today is my exercise deadline. Do you all do those too? A moment in time where the exercise must begin.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
No more procrastinating. No more lounging. No excuses. Playtime is over. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Well, today is my day. Agility drills and running must commence daily. So there, Self!</div>
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hshOFOF-OQW36wXkNASNToiAHwREQ_kOu4rAZtMv6dOpglflg0il7QGoOSXHkbT3z_QnFLq9COg9zD5qGamueiXEWzWTxfNBgc9IzPbQ20ba4BzfbK1jXaWjz4D1vpwX6b12c1AHVgc/s1600/WWM+2012+group+start+crop+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Wild Woman Trail Marathon and Relay" border="0" height="236" id="Header1_headerimg" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hshOFOF-OQW36wXkNASNToiAHwREQ_kOu4rAZtMv6dOpglflg0il7QGoOSXHkbT3z_QnFLq9COg9zD5qGamueiXEWzWTxfNBgc9IzPbQ20ba4BzfbK1jXaWjz4D1vpwX6b12c1AHVgc/s640/WWM+2012+group+start+crop+3.jpg" style="display: block;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last year's Wild Women in front of our mountain. The mountain helped convince me to run. I can run in front of our mountain; it is known, it is comfortable, it makes anything possible.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
On August 10th (tentatively) the Wild Women will race. The Wild Woman Marathon is a 26.2 mile trail run at the base of Mt. Adams through the local National Forest. Exclusively run and organized by women, it is designed to push every day limits and release your inner Wild Woman. The secondary purpose is to unite the women of the community in personal strength and sisterhood. There is a communal family camp out before the marathon, and the after camp out is set up to watch the Persieds meteor shower. All the food is local, organic, and vegetarian mostly served by the farm folk families of those running. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2dk7DzbBhclbBZbWUfmi1DZKosOAl4y40C4tnBfAP5ZqJ0MolDYjjQhAvZwZHGg5wY9mfl-63VIyIARCa_qrsGEWr0Rp_ogQ9VdKwPXqigwOngj0eEz-uoLG6WcjRb0RSdP9MmxDtkY/s1600/Wild+Woman+Run+v_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2dk7DzbBhclbBZbWUfmi1DZKosOAl4y40C4tnBfAP5ZqJ0MolDYjjQhAvZwZHGg5wY9mfl-63VIyIARCa_qrsGEWr0Rp_ogQ9VdKwPXqigwOngj0eEz-uoLG6WcjRb0RSdP9MmxDtkY/s400/Wild+Woman+Run+v_7.jpg" width="343" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Running isn't my thing. I never thought I would run a marathon. Maybe a half, maybe if zombies were chasing me, maybe if there was a BlendTec blender waiting at the end, but never voluntarily. I'll climb mountains. I'll walk across the nation. I'll swim across the Columbia River in a full wetsuit to protect from hypothermia. Not running. Running is my Kryptonite.<br />
<br />
But then Jules decided he wanted to become an ultramarathoner. And then The Barracuda decided he wanted to participate in adult triathalons (the kid ones around here are rather cutesy and no where near enough for him). And then people started talking about the Wild Woman. And now it is November 23rd and I actually have to start training! I'm still mildly baffled at how I talked myself into this.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPNypFJDQVmQQ6YQXd0VwDfv6UrspKBi3haKCyb3N_FouFukE5tFtdkBIXnm0oxVOwfj4JhFDG7Y71S1St2ZV5_fhjCPXnsOw-YR6EmFQYSLHUDVU1Io7_pSjH-jwegybkc4HafgVQ2zY/s1600/1477812347393204_DLukJdVI_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPNypFJDQVmQQ6YQXd0VwDfv6UrspKBi3haKCyb3N_FouFukE5tFtdkBIXnm0oxVOwfj4JhFDG7Y71S1St2ZV5_fhjCPXnsOw-YR6EmFQYSLHUDVU1Io7_pSjH-jwegybkc4HafgVQ2zY/s400/1477812347393204_DLukJdVI_c.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Barracuda and I do these agility drills twice a day during school days. They are total butt kickers, but who can't fit in 4 little minutes?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Currently my goal is just to finish. I <i>know</i> I can finish. I can hike 26.2 miles in a day, so I know I can finish. Moving at 3 to 4 miles an hour it will take me 6 and a half to 8 and a third hours. It would be pretty neat if I could finish in 5 and a half to 6 hours. That still won't be a competing time (the average female marathon time is just under 5 hours), but I think it would pretty darn good. We'll see what happens in a couple months. I might just decide to attempt to compete.<br />
<br />
I have just over 8 and a half months to try and get there, and a whole lot of family to run with. Here's the current running schedule: Each run is approximately 30 minutes in duration this month and there are 4 runs a week<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Week One:</u></b></span></i></div>
<i>1st Run:</i> 10 minute warm up walk; 1 minute run, 1 minute walk (x 5); 10 minute cool down walk<br />
<br />
<i>2nd Run:</i> 10 minute warm up walk; 1 minute run, 1 minute walk (x 7); 5 minute cool down walk<br />
<br />
<i>3rd Run:</i> 10 minute warm up walk; 2 minute run, 1 minute walk (x 5); 5 minute cool down walk <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>4th Run:</i> 5 minute warm up walk; 2 minute run, 1 minute walk (x 7); 4 minute cool down walk<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><u><b>Week Two: </b></u></span> </i></div>
<i>1st Run:</i> 5 minute warm up walk; 3 minute run, 1 minute walk (x 5); 5 minute cool down walk<br />
<br />
<i>2nd Run: </i>5 minute warm up walk; 5 minute run, 2 minute walk (x 3); 4 minute cool down walk<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>3rd Run:</i> 4 minute warm up walk; 5 minute run, 1 minute walk (x 4); 2 minute cool down walk<br />
<br />
<i>4th Run:</i> 5 minute warm up walk; 8 minute run, 2 minute walk (x 2); 3 minute cool down walk<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u><i>Week Three:</i> </u></b></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>1st R</i><span style="font-size: small;"><i>un:</i> 5 minute <span style="font-size: small;">warm up walk; 10 minute run, 5 minute walk, 5 minute run; 5 minute cool down walk</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>2nd Run:</i> 5 min<span style="font-size: small;">ute warm up walk; 12 minute run, 3 minute walk, 5 min<span style="font-size: small;">ute run; 5<span style="font-size: small;"> minute cool down walk</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>3rd Run:</i> 10 <span style="font-size: small;">minute warm up walk; 15 minute run<span style="font-size: small;">; 5 minute cool down walk</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">4th Run:</span></i> 6 min<span style="font-size: small;">u<span style="font-size: small;">te warm up wa<span style="font-size: small;">lk; 18 minute run; 6 minute cool down walk</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Week Four:</u></b></span></i></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>1st Run:</i> 5 min<span style="font-size: small;">ute warm up walk<span style="font-size: small;">; 20 minute run; 5 minute <span style="font-size: small;">cool down walk</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>2nd Run:</i> 5 minute warm up walk; 22 minute run; 3 minute cool down walk</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>3rd </i><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Run:</i> 3 minut<span style="font-size: small;">e warm up walk; 25 minute run; <span style="font-size: small;">2 minute cool down walk</span></span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<i>4th Run:</i> 2 minute warm up walk; 30 minute run; 2 minute cool down walk<br />
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The goal of this first month being to sustain a 30 minute run. Next month I hope to be able to sustain a 30 minute run at least twice a week and work up to an hour sustained run.</div>
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Everything we have achieved as a family began from seemingly impossible goals. Somewhere in me, I always knew they were possible. This is the first time I'm really having to leap without much faith. Running seems rather impossible for me. A 5k, sure, but not 26 miles. Not over an hour of sustained running at a time. Not running solid for 4 or 5 hours. But here is to self-stretching. Here is to the impossible. Here is to becoming a Wild Woman! <br />
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http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-21640501468770274852012-11-22T07:19:00.000-08:002012-11-22T07:19:00.181-08:00Happy Thanksgiving, So Share It Maybe Upon this wonderful Thanksgiving day (because it is by far my favorite holiday) may we all learn a bit about sharing from our friend Cookie Monster as he sings to us "Share It Maybe".....<br />
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I am thankful I am still learning from a blue fuzzy monster who loves cookies.</div>
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Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. May we all share the bounty of our lives with others.</div>
http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-6695617920390815112012-11-15T21:32:00.002-08:002012-11-16T13:25:56.009-08:00It's Time for a Turkey Slaughter!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEJv0qYueMYIgOFbbGmLbJIc2tYJPCVmWfnieP-U6fexD51r8uOX8uCbqSWBTH5CbYwwyiIZtuCI-M5z9hOAbUnHcdfHssR8JWuK_fq46vfBj1oPdFKHvFye_ywluw6bFN7DMJ5r_cXao/s1600/wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
We were up before 5 am this morning and out the door till somewhere just before 4 this afternoon. There was a turkey slaughter to attend. Yep, turkey slaughter. It's pretty exciting and we have been looking forward to mid-November for quite a while. Due to living on National Forest property we are not legally allowed to have much usage of the land our house sits on. However, we live in a major agricultural area. Our family - mainly The Barracuda and I - help a local farm bring in their raw milk, organic produce, slaughtering their free-range birds, mend or put up fences, and general farm work. More than anything, this is a way for us to afford high quality food, help the local food bank (over half the harvest goes to the food bank), and practice hard work. We work for food and maintain the local sustainable community of agriculture fostered around here. From pigs, to raw milk, honey, fowl, beef and veggies, it is all grown within 30 minutes of our house and directly traded to create an off the grid food network. It keeps our freezer and canning shelves overflowing, it shows The Barracuda exactly where his food comes from and helps him get his hands dirty. At its core, it places the value directly in work since no money is ever exchanged. It is one of the many ways we try to practice justice, love kindness, and walk humbly in our everyday existence.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm49eiAvQIxDjWQaMLPivkBHkLsNqe0irfEpMDozASXeC4LwNEYpMEWYW05kH3NqHT6hnPY7NAkeSQqznaBVuQFplZWniQ6xjR82zW7Rm_FMrwgXTtac4ETWreIyB0H8b5lXdmSS-J9h8/s1600/Big+Boy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm49eiAvQIxDjWQaMLPivkBHkLsNqe0irfEpMDozASXeC4LwNEYpMEWYW05kH3NqHT6hnPY7NAkeSQqznaBVuQFplZWniQ6xjR82zW7Rm_FMrwgXTtac4ETWreIyB0H8b5lXdmSS-J9h8/s400/Big+Boy.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This big boy is in rut and all he wants to do is snuggle! If only he didn't stink quite so badly...</td></tr>
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Often times there are Spanish Immersion lessons as well, since one of the moms (it's a family farm with lots of extended family) is fluent and The Barracuda has a bent for languages. We harvested thousands of pounds potatoes while listening to multi-cultural stories in Spanish, we learned anatomy while gutting over a hundred chickens, and today we proceeded to turkeys. When a calf died of bloat, The Barracuda got to hear all about ungulate digestion and various stomachs, as well as the special needle-tube used to piece the distended organ to let the pressure out. It was fascinating! There is a skin to scrape, brain to smear, and a hide to tan. He wants to make mittens. Sometimes he gets to ride in the tractor, sometimes he gets to listen as the men fix the tractor, sometimes he gets to feed the pigs; he <i>always</i> has fun.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gg0qVgUxP77IWyPtxAzEYX46U84LQ2YkAjf73Osl_DPExDXEFoyuQ1eqbDOTz37nFiiJe0sh5aMrB0P8FXEz5jt6RGGvor6LFqPB5r3Emsex8-UJBGmdJknW7FYR0lWB3vb2vHevYLg/s1600/birdies.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gg0qVgUxP77IWyPtxAzEYX46U84LQ2YkAjf73Osl_DPExDXEFoyuQ1eqbDOTz37nFiiJe0sh5aMrB0P8FXEz5jt6RGGvor6LFqPB5r3Emsex8-UJBGmdJknW7FYR0lWB3vb2vHevYLg/s400/birdies.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We have seen these birdies since they were small and fuzzy. Now they live in the freezer. There is nothing more intimate than watching your food grow and feeding it as it will feed you.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I'm learning as well. Today it was the signs used to communicate with a tractor/fork-lift driver and how to anticipate the movements of a machine weighing in just over 11 tons. We hauled fencing off a semi and will later use a power auger to string high power electrical fencing. I get to learn electrical work from an engineer and taxonomical anatomy from people who raise and breed animals. The continual reinforcement of learning outside a classroom is always a major perk.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGJc-XLk5rxf1nYoUqzVhZcFpIMeFnh5rM1nWP4XY-l7YHFu4eRddyyuZhR2gOkHvG91jqR0s3BV0lGxfQ2grGILE8djvrpECgV-j9DJcQrfJ9x695GVSBCeTLVa-CgJwSlvQZ-QTU1JM/s1600/Sunnybrook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGJc-XLk5rxf1nYoUqzVhZcFpIMeFnh5rM1nWP4XY-l7YHFu4eRddyyuZhR2gOkHvG91jqR0s3BV0lGxfQ2grGILE8djvrpECgV-j9DJcQrfJ9x695GVSBCeTLVa-CgJwSlvQZ-QTU1JM/s400/Sunnybrook.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That tractor scares the crap out of me. The wheels are bigger than I am and I've seen my son crawl under it to pull out jammed debris that only he could reach. Today I ran back and forth around said tires and under the forklift to help negotiate the moving of hundreds of pounds of fencing. Conquering fears can be immensely empowering! </td></tr>
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In the shadow of our mountain, the farm grows on. This is their life and they live it out loud. We go up and get our hands dirty in freshly tilled loam or the guts of freshly grown fowl. It is an authentic existence with death, and birth, and dirt, and guts spoken of matter-of-factually as we gather around the slaughter table and dump goopy innards into 5 gallon buckets. <br />
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As much as they think we are crazy for getting up at 3 am to eek out one last climb of the season or meticulously teach The Barracuda knots so he can deftly preform crevasse rescue if necessary, they have a tube-needle to allow excess gas out of their cattle's stomach if necessary. Both lives are equally crazy.<br />
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Neither is seen as odd though. We are both safe in our extreme existences. They slowly talk to him about how to make the proper cuts to a bird's jugular or the proper psi for the wheel barrings of the tractor. They describe all the different potatoes, where in the world they come from, what the different varieties taste like, their growing seasons, the adaptations evolved for different elevations and vast amounts of knowledge both The Barracuda and I soak up like sponges it is so interesting. We can talk about hikes in all different ecosystems; they can talk about food and life.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKPQsZpQzUONaE0h-dZcKu50UAsx1TDAhOR4EOYfcW74bb-ZANe4sxD8WFb79Zmw3RFIq5rXkAbqyz92nFV6RLZ_lEBUWRuU1TriyAp1TraSowopMg-wc7N0-fgfb2IaWjuXj2KR9BEQ/s1600/temperature.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKPQsZpQzUONaE0h-dZcKu50UAsx1TDAhOR4EOYfcW74bb-ZANe4sxD8WFb79Zmw3RFIq5rXkAbqyz92nFV6RLZ_lEBUWRuU1TriyAp1TraSowopMg-wc7N0-fgfb2IaWjuXj2KR9BEQ/s400/temperature.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Barracuda is checking the temperature of the dunking water and warming his hands. By the end of the 40 turkeys all our hands were numb and having trouble working. Today was wet and cold, but he held on manning is duties to the dunking water and the feather plucker. He is working his way up to the initial jugular slicing and has frequently helped with guttings.</td></tr>
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The more I look around, the more I realize we are not
isolated in our desire to live out loud. Authentic lives are all around
us. These people aren't playing; they aren't dabbling; they mean it.
It isn't something they do on the weekends or do just for fun. They
live it 24/7 three hundred and sixty five days a year. If we were playing at life, they wouldn't have us come and help.<br />
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As an on-call farm hand, I often only get a couple days notice for harvesting. Usually I'm given the time to show up a day or less in advance, and it is an all day long affair - or sometimes multiple days back to back. When the birds are ready, we slaughter. When the frost is coming, we dig. When the weather is good, we work. They need to know we will be there in the cold, the muck, the dark, whatever. They need to know The Barracuda will put in 6 to 8 hours of solid hard work right along with the adults, learning as needed, paying attention and keeping his mouth shut. They need to know that we really mean it. It works because both families are all in with whatever they decide to do.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEJv0qYueMYIgOFbbGmLbJIc2tYJPCVmWfnieP-U6fexD51r8uOX8uCbqSWBTH5CbYwwyiIZtuCI-M5z9hOAbUnHcdfHssR8JWuK_fq46vfBj1oPdFKHvFye_ywluw6bFN7DMJ5r_cXao/s1600/wedding.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEJv0qYueMYIgOFbbGmLbJIc2tYJPCVmWfnieP-U6fexD51r8uOX8uCbqSWBTH5CbYwwyiIZtuCI-M5z9hOAbUnHcdfHssR8JWuK_fq46vfBj1oPdFKHvFye_ywluw6bFN7DMJ5r_cXao/s400/wedding.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The farm is named Sunnybrook and that is Rebecca - Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. She and Micheal got married this past summer on the farm as we walked across the country.</td></tr>
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These are our people.</div>
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<i>We aren't so alone after all.</i></div>
http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-35383948263163272752012-11-12T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-12T07:00:09.997-08:00Monday's Funny Stuff on the InterwebsAs a homeschooling parent anytime I can find educational Internet gold that isn't annoying, obnoxious, contains bathroom/potty humor,<i> and </i>my child thinks is rad, I'm excited. Here is just a bit of the awesomeness discovered this week.<br />
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Conjunctions song to the tune of Firework by Kati Perry....<br />
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And just to make your life a little more complete, here's prepositions to the tune Paparazzi by Lady Gaga...<br />
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Enjoy your week and have fun getting your learn on!</div>
http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-86315699668822606422012-11-07T12:39:00.000-08:002012-11-07T12:41:16.692-08:00Re Entry<br />
Coming home from a thru-hike hurts. It is often masked by eating mountains of ubiquitous food, luxuriating in melt-your-skin-off hot showers, and sleeping in just because there is a bed covered in blankets. But, once that initial joy has worn off , it hurts. You have experienced something you cannot explain to others, but so desperately want to convey yourself. The ineffable struggles, triumph, and insignificance that only someone how has lived out of a backpack for months can feel places you closer to most homeless people than your family. In our society, most homeless people are viewed as crazy and you begin to wonder about yourself. You are stuck in the position of being type cast as a person by an experience you cannot reiterate.<br />
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The isolation haunts you.</div>
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Clouds make you cry. Birds cause you awe. Everything moves so fast. Food begins to taste beyond divine, only then to nauseate you as your stomach stretches back to normal size. People you once found comfort in now seem trivial. The practices that once caused relaxation now feel vapid. You are left re-defining everything in your life - relationships, occupations, basic choices. You're a freak, and only you know it, for no one else has changed.<br />
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Watching my child go through this has been both heart-breaking and frustrating. I can not ease his pain; no one can. The lasting effects will exist within him forever. At first he toggled wildly between extreme isolation - taking 5 mile walks during the day to sketch or "just be alone" - and extreme clinging - not wanting Jules or I out of his sight even to sleep or use the bathroom. This has slowed down now that we have been home for over a month, but he still has difficulty sleeping and struggles with fitting in with friends he once played with so happily. He does not wish to talk about the hike with anyone except Jules and I, and even then it is only in passing or as a descriptor. Quite often his reason is simple, "I don't want to be the weird kid."<br />
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I would love to claim that I have fared better, but my response was similar. Unable to explain myself to others, I retreated dramatically, cried a lot, found our meager life gluttonous, and felt unworthy of most everything around me. Jules and I bickered almost constantly about matters so trivial they could only be masking much larger emotional insecurity. Divorce was mentioned, frequently. So, The Barracuda and I play "the weird kid" together, and I try to steady the rocking boat that is our family.<br />
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We read a lot more now, if that was even possible. Our discussions of classical literature have jumped a few more octaves as The Barracuda now has so much more suffering to relate to. So much of the heroes epic, the plight of the human condition, the experience of the outcast, have now been felt first hand. We read Ozymandias and after extracting its description, The Barracuda will come at me with "Human life is so fragile. Why do we hold onto it so tightly?....It's like we go Lennie on it and never give it a chance." (Lennie is a reference to a very simple-minded character from <i>Of Mice and Men</i> who loves things so much he doesn't realize his own strength and crushes them with misplaced affections.) These are questions that have no answers from me. Do they have any answers anywhere? These are the reasons classical literature will remain enduring the times. Now he gets it in a way I could never teach, and he's not letting go anytime soon.<br />
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It requires a whole new level of emotional honesty from me and character education. I'll admit, as of late I'm falling a bit short. In so many ways, that is the brutally tough part of the whole lesson: we can work, and strive, and get infinitely close, but in the end we all fall short somewhere. We have never coddled our son, or sheltering him from the world in some misguided attempt at innocence. Innocence is a way of approaching the world when you know all there is; <i>naive</i> is being ignorant to the darkness. If there is one thing we never want it is an ignorant child. So we talk, and we read, and we forge into the unknown of where we are going. <br />
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All of this might seem remarkably bleak or at least a very distressing outlook to come home to. However this topsy-turvey life re-evaluation and personal soul searching is what any great pilgrimage requires. Religion must be worked at...If you truly take religion seriously it has to transform you. We are transcendentalists. To hike is to live our faith, not merely out-of-the-box as Thoreau did, but more in the fashion of John Muir. We wish to get our hands, lives, and souls dirty, not just play at kitchy, counter-cultural references. We wish to stretch ourselves: to grow into the uncomfortable places and to be chanted by what we find there.<br />
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"And the world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles, no matter how long, but only by a spiritual journey of miles, a journey of one inch, very arduous, and humble and joyful, by which we arrive at the ground at our feet and learn to be at home." </blockquote>
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~Wendell Barry; "Unforeseen Wilderness" </div>
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Our very arduous, humble and joyful journey has brought us back to look at our own feet and rediscover home.</div>
http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-75101139494128117002012-10-29T17:23:00.004-07:002012-10-29T22:19:45.774-07:00We're Back<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I haven't been writing; I know. It isn't that there isn't much to say as much as my lack of desire to say it. The trail changes you. It is so very cliche, but true. I don't have a pretty way to sum up our thru hike, so have been avoiding it.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGgTIbeF5EOflkttL-xrZiV7FqGh9umPX7ZTRkIky4WwZ0VjDPintFKgYhDeAWXSSAAbj7DA3uj1RspSy-gh8G6GEWNFwY7JxLcgtXIF4qml2S0YYtjvQZzethxJXSKmFhG9ZcWAp_18w/s1600/Canada.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGgTIbeF5EOflkttL-xrZiV7FqGh9umPX7ZTRkIky4WwZ0VjDPintFKgYhDeAWXSSAAbj7DA3uj1RspSy-gh8G6GEWNFwY7JxLcgtXIF4qml2S0YYtjvQZzethxJXSKmFhG9ZcWAp_18w/s400/Canada.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At 4:30pm on September 13th, The Barracuda crossed over into Manning Park, Canada. The Barracuda ended a totally different person than he began. His maturity was so very apparent when he wrote his final remarks in the register, <i>"From
the cursed saints and cold-blooded rattlesnakes of the desert to the
hallowed and beautiful North Cascades, it has been an incredible
journey, but I'm ready to be done."</i><br />
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The reality is any thru hike is a personal battle with yourself. Your demons come out if you really mean to hike and not merely play. It is as though you are personally embodying Naturalism every day for four to five months. Ultimately, you have even less of an idea about your own issues than you do how to solve them. A few hundred miles in, they begin to take shape and you begin to rage against them. Whether you are even aware of it is hard to say, but hindsight is always 20/20 if you want to look. At around a thousand miles, you begin to realize you are stuck out in the middle of nowhere with yourself so you'd better listen. The next thousand miles are the listening, denying, feeling and coming to terms with yourself. These are the hard ones. You either walk out the other side a better person, or you bury your head in the sand and remain vapid forever.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7-2jXoVw1ALCQVe9mVPj7L9wjVb5nhJaDhkbTEHKvwV6Dz_wGccG6XqQi0WzTJBvN9JEK3egIuNB9RK4v1L5_c-UHDx8F14pNfq3ASkQMGCeDUTHBxk5AzY12ETNpSQFKKxFm03ZZqQ/s1600/Goat+Rocks.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7-2jXoVw1ALCQVe9mVPj7L9wjVb5nhJaDhkbTEHKvwV6Dz_wGccG6XqQi0WzTJBvN9JEK3egIuNB9RK4v1L5_c-UHDx8F14pNfq3ASkQMGCeDUTHBxk5AzY12ETNpSQFKKxFm03ZZqQ/s400/Goat+Rocks.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hike has helped me to see myself differently. It forced me to cut all the crap out of my life that I gave value to, that muddled the waters of emotion, that seemed to matter so much. Once that is gone, all you are left with is yourself.</td></tr>
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The Barracuda and I fought our battles together because we had to. Whomever is by your side day in and day out will inevitably play a large emotional roll in the outcome. They will feel the wrath, fear, glory and triumph of it all, and you will feel theirs. But quietly, in the hours upon hours of walking, you battle personally as well.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuq_NmduUrqZOEchdwR4rYmmIKZG_TruSnYPSiqIcT_fVHAY616UBU5TYuWMdzQ4k0wBAEbyRohbrJNftTUU8J8L28AmonRIBX05pJ5ztorIUWRNXzfzSiU-mkGk8bJ6dPx2vZbI9wVxs/s1600/Mohave.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuq_NmduUrqZOEchdwR4rYmmIKZG_TruSnYPSiqIcT_fVHAY616UBU5TYuWMdzQ4k0wBAEbyRohbrJNftTUU8J8L28AmonRIBX05pJ5ztorIUWRNXzfzSiU-mkGk8bJ6dPx2vZbI9wVxs/s640/Mohave.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching the Mohave fall behind us was the largest relief of the trail. It meant we had successfully crossed the driest place in the United States and we were winning the battles.</td></tr>
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I could post a stack of cutesy pictures and flowery verbiage, but if you are really doing it long distance backpacking is raw. It rips your guts out and then throws up in the cavity left behind. It turns you into someone you never were before and couldn't have envisioned. You come back, and though everything is the same, you are not.<br />
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How could you be? The fear is raw, the beauty is raw, the knowledge you are tiny and insignificant is raw. Brutality is what happens when nature is in control. One-hundred-and-eight degrees and no water for 30 miles isn't cute. Fourteen thousand feet up with 25 pounds on your back, altitude sickness, and dropping 5,000 feet in less than three miles isn't cute. Poison oak, poodle dog bush, rattlesnakes, fire ants and razor sharp yuccas weren't messing around. No sleep for over 4 days due to gale force wind in the desert sands - stakes won't work and neither will rocks until you learn to read the sand - and having to keep a tent up for your child isn't cute. Losing 20 lbs you didn't really have, but still carrying 45 lbs for a 7 day resupply so you and your child don't starve, isn't cute. Tying yourself into trees and laying on your child so the 85 to 90 mile an hour winds don't throw you both off the side of a mountain is nature in serious mode. (The wind was so strong it ripped the bite valve off my Camelbak). <i>That was just California.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsW4hONVcK6DQ0u9fL1XEbfpzZgYPMbMAZd-Mg3_aulrmRJ8p87pKivbuEVigQRcIy1xR231LGYJM5hy9kyfuUUbBed97x2zAY0DLOzlpUBJXaEeLiF3GASXn8JWo-nvwPgogS5RMVjA/s1600/Mohave+Aquaduct.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsW4hONVcK6DQ0u9fL1XEbfpzZgYPMbMAZd-Mg3_aulrmRJ8p87pKivbuEVigQRcIy1xR231LGYJM5hy9kyfuUUbBed97x2zAY0DLOzlpUBJXaEeLiF3GASXn8JWo-nvwPgogS5RMVjA/s400/Mohave+Aquaduct.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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You won't find much of any of that written here, because we discovered it wasn't about that. All the stories, all the entertainments, seem to belittle the experience. It wasn't some epic story; it was the reality that humans are so very unimportant. Our over-ramped and inflated self value is our way of over-compensating. We dramatize our existence because we aren't really living at all. We have now seen things so beautiful it is hard to leave, so wild it creeps
under your skin, so much joy in the tiniest things, so much triumph in
the smallest moments, and so little of it really mattered in the grand scheme of things.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihd3q4HZHcSOf6OibaRnlzXINB3O3C8oONoe-Wnc3Y5BFYadzpPpqCyza-QAkIbLG2AAWuPul_NSCdEqtkb76n6naFJbkocFM8ijeT7vEbfhCmWJNYbj1CCVhB4FCj4YJb5NuHjcKmHY0/s1600/Whitney.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihd3q4HZHcSOf6OibaRnlzXINB3O3C8oONoe-Wnc3Y5BFYadzpPpqCyza-QAkIbLG2AAWuPul_NSCdEqtkb76n6naFJbkocFM8ijeT7vEbfhCmWJNYbj1CCVhB4FCj4YJb5NuHjcKmHY0/s640/Whitney.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is no way to really be present and miss the fact you are pathetic compared to the earth. We can inflate ourselves all we want behind a screen, in our offices, or snuggled in bed, but Nature will prevail and ultimately remind you that you don't really matter at all. </td></tr>
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The Barracuda announced to one curious day hiker "I'm not a monkey; I don't dance!" after being asked the same question for the fourth time that day. He was called a legend, a hero, and a stack of other flowery names for what he was doing and finally began telling people, "I don't want to be your hero. You need to become your own hero."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbfHsuhNmuwIKN67G5QEoONQuqRm_f5LZ_4toYXxdi6qoVzdR6vz4gORDcp5GJ6G1J8gcV9i_wB0FQuY7gbzRehKqzGlDYeAB7KCCJ2z2uKmA1DsaSr4c7WzqxKpcVY_h4x-WluFvJr40/s1600/Alpine+Lakes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbfHsuhNmuwIKN67G5QEoONQuqRm_f5LZ_4toYXxdi6qoVzdR6vz4gORDcp5GJ6G1J8gcV9i_wB0FQuY7gbzRehKqzGlDYeAB7KCCJ2z2uKmA1DsaSr4c7WzqxKpcVY_h4x-WluFvJr40/s640/Alpine+Lakes.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anyone can conquer the unconquerable. He truly believes it and lives it every day.</td></tr>
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The truth of the matter is, when you discover your insignificance at 7 years old, it is hard to ever be normal again. The truth of the matter is it was otherworldly and no words can ever portray to you the ineffable. The truth of the matter is that your house is safe and warm. Your job is good, your spouse dependable, your life well scripted. The truth of the matter is, you know deep down what lurks along the trail out in those woods. Things get real when you leave society for a week-long stretches and resupply in only 18 hours chunks, when you sleep in a tent instead of a wooden shelter, when your clothes begin to literally rot off your body, when the simple act of food becomes a luxury forcing you into tears. All of your society armor is gone and you are left with your dirty, smelly, starving, tired self and only one looming question, "Am I good enough?"<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Then you realize the scariest part of all - no one even cares about the answer but you.</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGQ3oZY4v5S4xwM88pRZi1QSNt00-r0OlKxHVwhmKBeyZO7v1x9TuROp6y2KT-6xgs5wpyF5-vPAXTi4Dq34o-FLFWSdKGq5fVGPeabOLnMb5aSxiUd2MVlVUytgz0hfQgbcAhvbepbOY/s640/Glacier+Peak.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Regardless of the frigid temperatures, we would huddle together in our quilt and watch the scenery. There are a few things in the world you should never take for granted. Reverence for beauty is one of them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Bsz1QKQBTAdCcQoB7pKEi9QMMbXxUGl7A5easu-gFxCAbc6GdnqbDDtCsKBUiDQyqUgCrDaWFREtxAz_sph0BGuF1Dvh8pVfFgbQeynUIerwGc6A9kfuNYUxa5cLIR_G9QLSDb3sL7s/s1600/Granite+Cheif.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Bsz1QKQBTAdCcQoB7pKEi9QMMbXxUGl7A5easu-gFxCAbc6GdnqbDDtCsKBUiDQyqUgCrDaWFREtxAz_sph0BGuF1Dvh8pVfFgbQeynUIerwGc6A9kfuNYUxa5cLIR_G9QLSDb3sL7s/s640/Granite+Cheif.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad is another one.<br />
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There was a one section in Washington State where we had 14 days without much of a real resupply and plummeting temperatures. For 3 days we didn't shed a single layer and hiked in everything we owned, including multiple pairs of socks. In the same stretch there was a 13 mile bushwhack where The Barracuda would literally disappear feet in front of me due to the overgrowth and your body was ripped up with Devil's club. In temperatures that low, with that significant a level of energy output, you can never eat enough. Your stomach hurts constantly as you carefully ration your food and have to dutifully fight the impulse to eat. In the same stretch the scenery was incredible. We walked past Glacier Peak which is one of the few mountains (10,514 feet) which cannot be seen by any highway and must be walked into. We hiked in what is considered some of the most remote and wild lands in the United States. The days and nights were so crisp it was as if C.S. Lewis himself was writing your life in Narnia. As The Barracuda and I huddled on a ridgeline trying to avoid the spitting ice, slicing wind, and regain feeling in our fingers and feet, he looked at me and said: </div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"You know what God is, Mom?"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"What do you think?" </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"God is the voice that lives inside you that screams, and cries, and can't breathe all at once. God reminds you that you are alive because He is here, but at any second you could die."</blockquote>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There are no better words than that.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1g2NF2gpHZXcFcaIyVBcIJfSVIxbuB57pyGZl7nIilQObgCmej8BdsEylM_BTl8JUWtsfbEdkLsQ0pvkI2v2SxU8sZawQECQsrCI-qSlpOppjk8NSGunpexU07PmtNfA4XzCnepT6zQw/s1600/North+Cascades.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1g2NF2gpHZXcFcaIyVBcIJfSVIxbuB57pyGZl7nIilQObgCmej8BdsEylM_BTl8JUWtsfbEdkLsQ0pvkI2v2SxU8sZawQECQsrCI-qSlpOppjk8NSGunpexU07PmtNfA4XzCnepT6zQw/s640/North+Cascades.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And so, that was our summer. It was a summer to experience God.</div>
http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-28424484947862632952012-08-16T22:51:00.000-07:002012-08-16T22:51:33.627-07:00Damn CatWhen we came home from climbing Mt. Adams, Jules called The Barracuda outside for something and I paid no attention. I went inside to use the bathroom. That is what moms do when they come home. It is a rule.<br />
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Apparently, there was quite the adorable Siamese cat just milling around the woodpile and Jules wanted to show it to The Barracuda.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Now, is there a single mother in the entire world that doesn't know how this story is going to end?!? </b></span></i></div>
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Meet Kitty Kitty.</div>
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Kitty Kitty doesn't have a formal name yet. She just has a 7 year old boy's complete adoration. He made a "house" for the cat. He insisted food be purchased for the cat. When Jules and I went to the store, he stayed outside, in the dark, just to talk to the cat. He didn't sleep much worrying the cat might be eaten or run away. What is more, he has the undivided attention of this feline and she tends to have chosen him as her person.<br />
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Jules appears to be a bit hooked as well, since Kitty Kitty bears striking resemblance to a long lost pet from years previous.<br />
<br />
....Remember that whole long distance backpacking thing?<br />
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<br />
...Pacific Crest Trail?<br />
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<br />
...Vicious Doberman named Guadalupe?<br />
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...Obviously loved cat whom someone lost and might miss?<br />
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Yes, Barracuda, we can teach Kitty Kitty to climb the ladder so she can sleep with you. How can I say no to this face?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv65ft3Ha-EjJFNpjK8a9ACeagU3yg9Hm407KB9n4-taWS3M_bX_tDnS-7boh_rU4N4sJt_rde0f5eyHcGu_ZFAzTsPJxRikRS_2x3EfyZBPml6tVPNStVo_SLHwbNNp7bPFg7KiG0GNk/s1600/DSCF5492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv65ft3Ha-EjJFNpjK8a9ACeagU3yg9Hm407KB9n4-taWS3M_bX_tDnS-7boh_rU4N4sJt_rde0f5eyHcGu_ZFAzTsPJxRikRS_2x3EfyZBPml6tVPNStVo_SLHwbNNp7bPFg7KiG0GNk/s400/DSCF5492.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-26274552827941368832012-08-12T06:37:00.000-07:002012-08-12T06:37:00.734-07:00Mazamas Here We Come!Some people react quite extremely to poison oak while others get only mild irritation. I'm a mild irritation person when it comes to poison ivy and sumac. They are annoying, but no biggie. Apparently, not so much when it comes to poison oak. Somewhere around 1500 miles, I came into contact with this dreaded plant. I didn't know it until approximately one week later when I awoke with over half my leg blistered and continuously weeping. It went down hill from there.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcblJy8RHlt46qf0_laKGKBA4aLITPKmOcZmQHBGaHvgRdvJZkD5DVhxHiLYEy5sHrlkM6sR0cgfTyCnDQIbWgNu0kC1h2lGzfjRtSKhJ8tvLLQJ-qFts88exx1MXBfZ39VTmzywziO_o/s1600/DSCF5725.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcblJy8RHlt46qf0_laKGKBA4aLITPKmOcZmQHBGaHvgRdvJZkD5DVhxHiLYEy5sHrlkM6sR0cgfTyCnDQIbWgNu0kC1h2lGzfjRtSKhJ8tvLLQJ-qFts88exx1MXBfZ39VTmzywziO_o/s640/DSCF5725.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't worry, no nasty pictures. Just a pretty Mt. St. Helens shot.</td></tr>
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We decided to take a train home from the California/Oregon border and go directly to Urgent Care. The lady at the hospital was very nice. She grimaced at my description of the problem, flagged my chart, and told me she would put me on "fast track." This is the nice way of saying 'stand aside and wait patiently without sitting on, touching, breathing near, or in any way potentially infesting anything so we can get you out of here as quickly as possible.' I was also periodically informed to stop scratching and to wash my hands.<br />
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The doctor was also very professional. He only recoiled once. He did a very good job of concealing his disturbed shock when he asked how long it had been this way, and I responded, "Only about 4 days."<br />
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I was put on 2 oral steroids, one hardcore topical nerve suppressant, and oatmeal baths. The doctor then began the directions:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<h3>
<i>I'm not allowed to get hot, sweaty, or irritate my skin. No scratching. Regular bathing with special soap and a return visit if it doesn't begin to seriously clear up in 4 days. Anymore blisters aren't okay. Any full coverage spreading (not tiny little bumps) isn't okay. Any facial breakouts or crotch issues, aren't okay. Wash everything you own. If it isn't important or it can be replaced, just throw it away. Most importantly, NO HIKING.</i></h3>
</blockquote>
My face must have foretold my dislike of this last edict. I asked about short, 3 or 4 day hikes. <b> </b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> "No."</b> </div>
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I asked about day hiking. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"No." </b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Weekend Warrior style? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"No." </b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Car camping? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"No." </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I was not pleased. I tried to explain about the closing of the season, about the snow in the Cascades. I tried to talk about The Barracuda, 1700 miles in. The problem of losing momentum. The issue of each day lost being almost 30 miles, how that really tends to add up. <b> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"No."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
He was a very nice man, but wasn't having any of it. In a quite authoritative voice he began to explain:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<h3>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>When infections begin to cover 80% or more of your body they reach a point of no return and must be treated like an invasive Staph infection. I was at 75%. Though only one leg, my butt, and my lower back were completely blistered and weeping now, in less than 2 days my entire torso was likely to become infected. Soon after my other leg would have symptoms. The symptoms take about 3 days or so to appear and the reaction was too extreme not to have spread. I was hiking in 100 degree temperatures, sweating, not bathing, using the same infected clothes and gear for days and generally doing everything possible to spread the poison. <b>NO HIKING!</b></i></span></h3>
</blockquote>
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<br />
I did everything I was supposed to for 4 whole days. Do you know how hard it is to go from moving all day long, to sitting your itchy butt all day long?! We picked a gallon of blackberries. We sorted through all the clothes The Barracuda had outgrown. We sorted through all the clothes that we should give to the needy box at church. We did a trip into the city for a Goodwill run to find gear for eBaying. We tried being lazy, getting coffee, and reading magazines. Jules watched an entire season of Breaking Bad on Netflix. The Barracuda read an entire chapter book in less than half a day. We were going crazy. There had to be something I could do that wouldn't irritate my skin, cause me to sweat or be overheated, but still meant we could <i>do</i> something.<br />
<br />
Plus, I need to do a trial run to see if I could realistically hike anytime soon. Things seemed to really be getting better. The infection was clearing up dramatically (though the doctor was right about the spreading). I had been through almost all of my major steroid and gauze pads weren't necessary any more.<br />
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<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
So we went mountaineering!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvStJg5Ha4S3_aSJpu2EZOIIg9kzEt5SlTQ8hOrnx3IrBO6Vrz3NK0lE-0cfvzpf5sjAi1XL1_3G_gjzn5NWaSG46jlVuNEvjCL5xdEmsnfIl5y54pICNPAJF3F0y1yGG146EDJzz3GiI/s640/DSCF5723.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, the dog goes too. She has a sweater, boots, and I'm working on fitting some microspikes.</td></tr>
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Mountaineering met every qualification. The air is cold, no overheating. With adequate layering, you don't really sweat. It was close enough to our house (less than an hour drive) meaning we didn't really need to go camping. I could take my required shower and regularly bathe since it was only a one day thing. You are covering so much elevation that the pace is so slow you definitely couldn't be considered hiking. Even better, you get up at 3 am, work all day long, and don't get home till after 7pm.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsK2n8YtPCWOTKpS_4dNMAtt6ZWLz9Oc5BgbhQyxrbEZ9aj9Oxi_H76wMLunmYbXEIN964QyiuqX-__asNPPpLDnrIfTCjkoyKHIrsmJt6A7uukJw8pll3eEhsWbrHW8S_1wqy7Di_eg/s1600/DSCF5711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsK2n8YtPCWOTKpS_4dNMAtt6ZWLz9Oc5BgbhQyxrbEZ9aj9Oxi_H76wMLunmYbXEIN964QyiuqX-__asNPPpLDnrIfTCjkoyKHIrsmJt6A7uukJw8pll3eEhsWbrHW8S_1wqy7Di_eg/s640/DSCF5711.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is something quite wonderful about getting up before the sun and watching it slowly crest the top of the mountain. The contrast between the snow, the sky, and the rock is always so striking.</td></tr>
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The Barracuda is developing quite a thing for mountains. After summitting Whitney, he is rather determined to take on more than a couple 14ers. Mt. Adams has been a frequent playground of ours and his skill level is high enough now that we don't worry much. This was mostlikely the last trip we will bring the harness and ropes for, and the pickets were left at home completely.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiACb_JcYpAqwsrVtV4ankNL48HZ4WZ4MHhW778WQbzQYfWR3Kao2U-xWa8Hf9mWeStRxLrkNQs5FmK60NobXY4_CbcE1MTzPlGfXLsqfzZ-1IRWdRfs-I-aS4OWfKsB87azNAfP1PHX3A/s1600/DSCF5730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiACb_JcYpAqwsrVtV4ankNL48HZ4WZ4MHhW778WQbzQYfWR3Kao2U-xWa8Hf9mWeStRxLrkNQs5FmK60NobXY4_CbcE1MTzPlGfXLsqfzZ-1IRWdRfs-I-aS4OWfKsB87azNAfP1PHX3A/s640/DSCF5730.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See, this is not hiking. This is walking in the snow. We were merely walking in the cold, cold snow. No overheating. Totally acceptable.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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People don't exactly know what to do when they meet a small 7 year old clad in mountaineering pants, steel 12 point front spike crampons, and wielding a very flashy ice-axe. They are even more baffled when the see the dog. So much of the time people tend to think of these sorts of activities being out of reach when you have a family or a pet. Kids and dogs can climb 6,700 in less than 6 miles - think about it, that's only about a thousand feet per mile. It is steep, and it takes determination, but it isn't un-doable. Don't underestimate yourselves!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrdIIvhf7MhAlnJ1CtFeU6L0S6jHmmKAmaU3ozoFLiFWbTsL8SoCRSDCZdtjiIipECxMNdW0GCqLQfwfsUnyItTEKIktCqGkJGoumO2Qo3ZCyXXOQrPTK3f0HQXlM6tlVq597gc5TZoU/s1600/DSCF5737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrdIIvhf7MhAlnJ1CtFeU6L0S6jHmmKAmaU3ozoFLiFWbTsL8SoCRSDCZdtjiIipECxMNdW0GCqLQfwfsUnyItTEKIktCqGkJGoumO2Qo3ZCyXXOQrPTK3f0HQXlM6tlVq597gc5TZoU/s640/DSCF5737.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boy has some unfinished business with that mountain. Rainier is calling him. </td></tr>
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<br />
This next year's homeschooling curriculum is going to be dealing a lot with rope work, protection, and the math/physics/geological issues which come into place when mountaineering. He has enough technique down the crampons no longer worry me, and his ability to Prusik out of a cravass far surpasses mine. At this point he merely needs enough knowledge of alpine environments to work on his judgement calls and knee-jerk reactions in dangerous situations.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3NczuZSiESorG-qh4YbCHUGFAauZ0cVy4ETfpc7BkNd3mV12eWFmi8AkTT7bViBqJ8at87GRoe3RTlotTzCTkCUmD4GshYiVErpE6zZIySbV7A9CPDUog23I7Kt3zeM7fCDaOJmwGZE/s1600/DSCF5740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3NczuZSiESorG-qh4YbCHUGFAauZ0cVy4ETfpc7BkNd3mV12eWFmi8AkTT7bViBqJ8at87GRoe3RTlotTzCTkCUmD4GshYiVErpE6zZIySbV7A9CPDUog23I7Kt3zeM7fCDaOJmwGZE/s640/DSCF5740.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, I climb mountains in a bikini. It helps with that whole no-sweating thing. Plus, the giant disgusting rash concealed by The Barracuda's head and my mountaineering pants make it far less attractive. Generally, though, it is the most comfortable thing I've found to wear with all the sun exposure.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Mt. Adams stands at 12,326 feet and is the second highest peak in Washington, the third highest in the Cascades (Rainier and Shasta stand taller). Sporting 11 glaciers it qualifies our family to join the Mazamas and makes The Barracuda one of the youngest official members to not be grandfathered in by a parent. He was very specific that this whole "family membership" thing wasn't going to cut it. He wants to take Intermediate and Advanced Climbers Education classes and Jules wants to learn ski mountaineering. The Mazamas are sort of the top of the line for learning that sort of thing. I kinda like the idea of weekends at the private, alpine lodge and the rescue/body recovery/life-flight insurance, but maybe that is just me.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgabEDesCL9k1vCNvtoB8fzhGkxNZw5HKSju2KqqTDtLFhdXCEqlnIiR3CwSuF8YreIW3rVU6dNW8rgXCDNsu_E05MtzKTI3F5CPFbM6-bvVd8o7nYPnbbghqKMrWWmYTO8nYoISCjesY8/s1600/DSCF5762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgabEDesCL9k1vCNvtoB8fzhGkxNZw5HKSju2KqqTDtLFhdXCEqlnIiR3CwSuF8YreIW3rVU6dNW8rgXCDNsu_E05MtzKTI3F5CPFbM6-bvVd8o7nYPnbbghqKMrWWmYTO8nYoISCjesY8/s640/DSCF5762.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh it is terrifying, completely insane, and really does feel like you are going to throw yourself off into the abyss. Our family LOVES it!</td></tr>
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The best part of the climb is definitely the glissade. A glissade is the controlled slide down the mountain. You remove your crampons (<i>very important!</i>), put on a coat and gloves, sit down, and proceed to slide hundreds of linear feet down the ice and snow using your ice axe to slow yourself. On popular climbing days a rather deep trough is plowed into the slope by the previous glissaders. When we went, the trough was over two and a half feet high on either side making the glissade much like a very extreme waterslide. You'd find yourself beginning to slide up the sides, swirling around the turns, and reaching some fairly terrifying speeds. It was rad! There was giggling, squealing, and cheers.<br />
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To most parents, putting you small person into a rather extreme snow chute and helping scoot/shove them off the side of a mountain without any form of protection might seem slightly negligent. But it is seriously thrilling. The Barracuda has only been sledding once, and at this point has no desire to go again. Glissading just can't compare. He is bouncy, laughing, and so hyped up at just the idea of the glissade, that saying no would be ridiculous. Plus, forcing my child to slog down over 5,000 feet (you slide down darn near all the elevation gain) in crampons seems a bit more dangerous and cruel. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFduhDtwilF2Zws2jxY60DqVHTAbntHbV2Fdf8M9sGypvJaSUsIXhqJVS6Fg9lbxNnZdd_lAn6XQCiOMIxBKhMkHssvADyH4f_lyAHTUsAQNt8362dRw5PnNGibsA6QOwsHWNoIYvTRI/s1600/climb.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFduhDtwilF2Zws2jxY60DqVHTAbntHbV2Fdf8M9sGypvJaSUsIXhqJVS6Fg9lbxNnZdd_lAn6XQCiOMIxBKhMkHssvADyH4f_lyAHTUsAQNt8362dRw5PnNGibsA6QOwsHWNoIYvTRI/s640/climb.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our son is a climber. He has been a climber since he could barely walk. I know I'm never going to stop him; he is far too determined. Better to strap on a harness, rope up, and show him the appropriate way to self arrest. It is a fairly awesome way to do some serious family bonding.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We were home by around 7ish and eating taco salad for dinner as it got dark. I took my required shower, with my special soap, doped up on anti-histamines, and slathered myself in nerve suppressant. I'm definitely not ready to hike. Anytime I got even remotely damp from sweat or body heat my torso began to itch and tingle. It was definitely a sure sign I'm still a few days off the trail. However, I'm almost done with my extreme steroids (thank goodness because they make me crazy irritable and just plain angry for no reason) and only have to take the anti-histamines when I go to sleep. All in all, it was a fantastic day. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Even better, I only look like I have a moderate case of leperacy, instead of rolling in toxic waste.</div>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-23195756216405575692012-08-11T22:59:00.001-07:002012-08-11T23:00:00.210-07:00Pictures from the Trail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPeYTJOoBDoGd2YQnUQqna27X6OjTy3ePii-QLQprZ_11xgA4eiozpKwMDmIyh3zKA1H40LBz9RoM3lReZ6O7dMevXJzFG74-Dc0UeZYyaM_rNOsTYa_pi_W9VoYpjEthUF8tjh01mYBk/s1600/family.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPeYTJOoBDoGd2YQnUQqna27X6OjTy3ePii-QLQprZ_11xgA4eiozpKwMDmIyh3zKA1H40LBz9RoM3lReZ6O7dMevXJzFG74-Dc0UeZYyaM_rNOsTYa_pi_W9VoYpjEthUF8tjh01mYBk/s640/family.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Don't worry, I haven't abandoned you all. It is more an issue of Northern California not really having great Internet access. Most of the towns between Echo Lake and the Oregon border don't really qualify as a city. Town would be a reasonable term, but that is town with a very little "t." Access to a computer is limited; access to the Internet is challenging; access to a reasonably modern computer with decent enough Internet to upload pictures is down right unheard of! It's an issue that Jules and I are mulling over for future long distance hikes. A solution hasn't quite presented itself adequately, but we're still working on it.<br />
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There are so many pictures. We have seen and done so many things. Here are a few that stand out as favorites, exciting moments, or just fun images of what life has been like for the last few weeks.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQS_D1Pg4o7R2JF40lCoLRepvlXPMkX9jQE8LKPDlGo6hSqE0yYPuz7bm2vw5KabwyKoQKsD9yOOz8JzWzbcWDgC1VKpyOeb8U3qcKya97XkhoxP_DZGCs_A6aFwgkPBkpJqobZE1cWGw/s1600/DSCF5025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQS_D1Pg4o7R2JF40lCoLRepvlXPMkX9jQE8LKPDlGo6hSqE0yYPuz7bm2vw5KabwyKoQKsD9yOOz8JzWzbcWDgC1VKpyOeb8U3qcKya97XkhoxP_DZGCs_A6aFwgkPBkpJqobZE1cWGw/s640/DSCF5025.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
Both of the boys got altitude sickness pretty quickly after entering the Sierras. It was nothing major or terribly horrific, but it really takes it out of you. For a couple of days our mileage was really low and there were frequently naps in the sun. I'd filter water, they'd pass out. The dog would take a break for a minute, so would they.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBoNvfanjOKDTeuDEi57Bo9sybMPjm7i52vKQ6mgL0Q1MLSy_AwX5ZAkxqGIgu_eXkvV5ECZG6boe_sKhyphenhyphenBemxPFzWv9GmBTDwyT-gPmdZY1bdhbR1wv27z3ZqE4QwBkM9qo92li3I4CU/s1600/DSCF5113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBoNvfanjOKDTeuDEi57Bo9sybMPjm7i52vKQ6mgL0Q1MLSy_AwX5ZAkxqGIgu_eXkvV5ECZG6boe_sKhyphenhyphenBemxPFzWv9GmBTDwyT-gPmdZY1bdhbR1wv27z3ZqE4QwBkM9qo92li3I4CU/s640/DSCF5113.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
Altitude sickness or not, when The Barracuda heard he could summit the highest peak in the lower 49 states, a detour was necessary. We did a 20 mile day the day we summited Mt. Whitney, climbing over 5,000 feet of elevation gain in less than 3 miles to reach 14,505 ft. At 7, The Barracuda tied Tyler Armstrong as the youngest person to summit in a single day (most people take 2 days) and Guadalupe is one of only a handful of dogs to have made the top. Summiting a 14er has been on his Life List for a while and he hopes to climb both Mt. Rainier and Mt. Shasta next summer.<br />
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Shortly after leaving the Tahoe Rim Trail and getting back on the PCT (they overlap a bit), my shoelaces got all caught up and I went face first into the gravel. It was stupendously awkward - and Olympic quality blunder. My lip was split, all my front teeth loosened, and both my nose and sinus cavity were bruised. There were tears. There was cussing. Jules comforted me and then snapped a couple pictures (I was thrilled with this decision as you can see). But thankfully, I did not face plant a couple hundred yards earlier. If I had, I would have tumbled into shale talus most definitely broking my nose and knocking out most of my teeth. <br />
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The Granite Chief Wilderness was spectacular in its ridgelines and mountain spines. It felt very Tolkein in many spots and reminded me that in the next year or two our family should read The Lord of the Rings series (neither Jules or The Barracuda have read them). Looking over the expanse on all sides has us thinking that in a summer or two we might put in a bid for a fire tower and spend the summer overlooking some desolate place in northern Montana. Afterall, most fire towers are larger than our house so it would be an upgrade.<br />
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We have climbed some gorgeous views in these past few weeks. The Barracuda really enjoys scrambling up on the large boulders to scan the viewpoints. Jules doesn't appreciate The Barracuda's enjoyment of heights quite as much and worries significantly. Sometimes we eat lunch. Sometimes we take a water break. Sometimes it is just a glimpse to sigh and appreciate being able to spend a third of a year doing nothing but walking the U.S. together. After having been through the desert and some of the lowest points in the United States, and then up through the Sierra and the highest points, it is nice to spend a bit of time in the middle. <br />
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If you are a member of the Forest Service, just disregard this picture. It would be very wrong of us to have a fire anywhere in central/northern California outside of a designated campground. You have been in the woods too long and are hallucinating.<br />
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Backpacking as a family means doing things a little bit differently than most thru-hikers. Instead of continuing on, we stop after 25 miles to 27 miles, have a fire, watch the stars, and drink cocoa. It might only be 7:30 pm, there might be another good hour of daylight and a 30 mile day, but watching the sunset and reading a book as a family is an experience worth so much more. The Barracuda has never really been car camping and finds the concept rather mystical. Backpacking or not, we try to make sure there is plenty of time to just sit around a campfire being a kid.<br />
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So, we're still going at it! Here we come Oregon and Washington. We're in the home stretch now and there is definitely light at the end of the tunnel. More than anything we are realizing just how much this lifestyle suits our family. It hasn't always been pretty - there was that time when Jules and I got in a knock-down-drag-out fight in the middle of the Grocery Outlet parking lot, or when I was so frustrated I picked The Barracuda up by his pack straps, or the instance where the 7 year old looked right at me and screamed, "You are going to f*$k everything up!" and then burst into tears.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Oh, the memories....</i></div>
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But considering we have crossed 700 miles of desert in a drought year, we've been swarmed by Africanized bees, we've summited the highest peak in the lower 49, we've run from mosquitoes thicker than I've ever seen, dodged the Forest Service more than a couple times, slept outside train stations and on the wrong side of a few tracks, hitchiked miles into towns not knowing anything about where we would sleep or how we would get back to the trail, almost killed the dog with heat stroke, had to discuss both marijuana consumption and illicit drug usage with our second grader, and we're still smiling after walking across the longest state in the nation, I'd say we're doing pretty good. The Barracuda has quite a nice list of fairly significant outdoor goals and we are more than happy to go along with him for the ride. http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-74102920915393118562012-06-16T18:07:00.002-07:002012-06-16T18:07:39.561-07:00Suck It Mohave! - 702 MilesWe have officially cleared all of southern California. For those of you who do not realize, that means no more desert. I had an extreme moment of clarity a few days ago, when the thought came to me that if given the opportunity to hike through the desert again, or have another baby, I'd choose the baby. For anyone who knows our family, that is really saying something!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEq3-YUv__RXHt9EteESFr1H2NbFf0hWas2qeA8ezzLF70qdm-oZXV8LlZD81RVXTw9PMPPQYhEr5hyQMCg9RB3MXrMI_lfBBgWOUr7WO9uf4LkdzK7J5q-gS-E2BjjoTC0onTx48Hq0Y/s1600/Profile.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEq3-YUv__RXHt9EteESFr1H2NbFf0hWas2qeA8ezzLF70qdm-oZXV8LlZD81RVXTw9PMPPQYhEr5hyQMCg9RB3MXrMI_lfBBgWOUr7WO9uf4LkdzK7J5q-gS-E2BjjoTC0onTx48Hq0Y/s640/Profile.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Barracuda pulled a 29 mile day to get us into Kennedy Meadows, but the show put on during the sunset was well worth it!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We are currently in Kennedy Meadows - 702 miles. It is the gateway to the Sierras and quite the milestone. As far as I am concerned, we've made it. We are mountain people. Cool breezes, serious elevation gains, passes, ridges, those are our kind of hikes. I have no worry about snow. I know how to judge the wind. I know how to keep a tent down on rocky outcroppings. I'm all over that. Searing heat, swirling wind from everywhere, complete sand with no rocks, and gale force winds....um no thank you.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiau5Gdcnvx5WPdxPgU7SsP59FPhMBVhC_y-bmtofgtxTczQnvGM4KaR4Nvc_T3uf29mQYX5eN6HqlvS9xylsgji06bwniOOMuMTDpwMmNja4CRmiA4n0ehbK8GElJi9gGfGZx0L1Vfe80/s1600/DSCF4676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiau5Gdcnvx5WPdxPgU7SsP59FPhMBVhC_y-bmtofgtxTczQnvGM4KaR4Nvc_T3uf29mQYX5eN6HqlvS9xylsgji06bwniOOMuMTDpwMmNja4CRmiA4n0ehbK8GElJi9gGfGZx0L1Vfe80/s640/DSCF4676.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As you can see, The Barracuda loves the desert as well</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We are about to enter the largest continuous wilderness stretch in the United States. Needless to say the cell phone/internet coverage is a bit scarce. We will be checking in as much as possible and posting up pictures when we can. All in all the John Muir Trail is waiting for us, the Sierras are waiting for us, and the Mohave has been left behind!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Here's to another 700 miles</b>.</div>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823898594499538913.post-78094143354435968862012-06-14T01:30:00.000-07:002012-06-14T01:30:02.302-07:007 Day Countdown - PCT Trail Update<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> <i>The Barracuda & Sparrow working on their tans in the desert.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Please forgive the time it
has taken to get a post update on the Sparrow and the Barracuda’s PCT
thru-hike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The end of the school year,
packaging mail drops, and completing projects around our little cabin has been
occupying a lot of my time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of
the rustic, simple life we are fortunate to live, items like putting back a
year’s supply of wood for the coming winter is crucial before I can feel good
leaving to hike for the summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of
our neighbors, who lives in an expansive house up the road, once commented that
we are “camping out” in our cabin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I
was chopping this year’s wood, I couldn’t help but think that our humble little
cabin and the voluntary simplicity that we practice has likely made the
Barracuda’s transition to hiking easier for him than it might be for other adults
and kids alike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Barracuda is
comfortable being outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heck, we have
a healthy population of bears, cougars, and bobcats that roam the woods our
home is surrounded by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the trail, the
Barracuda has impressed other hikers by making the campfire, but it must seem
so common to him due to our lifestyle a home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m glad he is comfortable camping out, because it allows him to focus
on the physical challenge of hiking and to appreciate the things around
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <i>"Camping out" at the cabin last winter</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Since the last post, the
Sparrow and the Barracuda have walked through the Mojave Desert
section of the PCT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition to the
heat, they had 50-60 mile an hour winds during the evenings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a result of this wind, they had difficulties
keeping their TarpTent erect in powdery soft sand that refused to hold stakes,
and this caused a few sleepless evenings for the Sparrow as she struggled to
brace the tent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have hiked
approximately 630 miles and should be reaching Kennedy Meadows sometime
tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I say approximate because our
phone provider has zero coverage in the area they are currently traveling
through, and there were 5 days with no contact from them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first 3 days were easy, but the over
protective husband and father started to worry after day 4.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I was thrilled to get a call from Brynn
the other night from a borrowed cell phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are in great spirits and just as determined as ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their pace and confidence is up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">From where they are
currently, they are beginning their climb up into the mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While this means they have some serious elevation
to climb, it also means cooler temperature, real trees for shade, and a greater
abundance of water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After their hike
through the desert, they will happily take the elevation change for these benefits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time I connect with them, in 7 days,
they will have climbed to almost 11,000 feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>From Independence, CA I will be hiking with them throughout the
summer with the goal of reaching the Oregon/Washington border before I have to
return for the 2013 school year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
simply can’t wait to be with them on the trail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m so very proud of both of them, but I’m eager to take some of the
physical and emotional weight off of Brynn’s shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s carried a lot these past 630 miles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I can’t wait to be a complete
family, including our crazy dog, moving nomadically up the PCT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has been 11 years since I’ve hiked a long
distance trail, and I’m looking forward to the peace and serenity such a
journey leaves one with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be able to
share that experience with my wife and son makes me feel like the richest man
alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04249655831923837855noreply@blogger.com5