Coffee Date

I was reminded today that it's important to create some one-on-one time with each of my kids. Who knew that sharing a coffee with my kid in the grocery store coffee shop could be so much fun. A guilty pleasure, really.

Play Date

This is what it looked like down the street from my house in Granby the day after my mid-April birthday. There were wild crocuses on the trail last week. Marmots on the rocks. Pelicans in the pond.

Despite our location in the center of the continent, we have osprey. I was shocked, in March, to hear that the osprey had returned. This is bird of a different ilk than what lived behind my family's house on the Chesapeake Bay. Those shuttered at a mid-summer breeze. And more than once I saw an entire family of osprey babies blown away forever by an afternoon thunderstorm.

Today — only hours until May 1 — it is snowing. It has, in fact, been snowing for the past three days. They say that there is a lot of nitrogen in the spring snow here. It melts quickly, like a shot of red bull to the landscape. The ranchers love it. Overnight, the sagebrush blooms into a fragrant, misty green. (I adore the smell of sagebrush. In my days as a backcountry guide, I used to crush it and rub it all over my skin and clothes to improve the overall impression of one who has not showered in weeks.) The ponds fill with ducks and geese. The grass returns — never to the lush Kentucky green — but to desert green.

I don't know about the nitrogen theory, though it's something I may have to look into further, but I can testify that when we woke up on Thursday there were 8 inches of snow on Scott's car. Under that snow was a layer of red dirt. I am told that is dust carried by the storm from Utah, some 400 miles away.

I'm gonna kick your big "S"

In case you've never had the fortune to participate in a parent-teacher conference, let me tell you this: It feels like couple's counseling. Personality traits, parenting beliefs, personal interactions — everything that's going on in a marriage/family/household all somehow comes to light in a 30-minute session with — of all people — your child's teacher.

You may recall our conference last fall wasn't exactly uplifting. Spring brought new hope. Sawyer has made a huge turnaround at school these past few months. He's still only 3 years old, but he's a leader in the class, and hasn't had a timeout in nobody knows how long. He sends the teachers into stitches on a daily basis with his wit and random thoughts, and, we are told, his proper way of speaking (always: "Yes"; never: "Ya") instantly endears his every new acquaintance.

While drama, pretend and storytelling are his his strong suits, he's afraid of writing his own name, drawing and cutting with scissors for fear of being inexact. And, while he's incredibly verbal, he has some potential speech issues that we are going to have further evaluated.

He knows how to spell his own name out loud — S.A.W.Y.E.R. — and he's very interested in who else has a 'Big S' or 'Little S' in their names. He points out that Sylvia has a big S and Scott has a big S but Justin only has a little S, so he can't be on their team.

Tonight, rough-housing with Scott before bedtime, I overheard Sawyer say: "I'm going to kick your big ass." I whipped my head around the corner, startled, and found Scott in hysterics.

"I'm going to kick that Big S right out of you! I got your Big S, see? I got your Big S right here in my hands."

Spring sprung

Spring has hit Granby, Colo. For you east coasters, it's not exactly the kind of spring you might imagine. No daffodils or azaleas blooming here. It's practically Wyoming, after all. Spring is sagebrush, wildflowers and mud.

In the mountain towns of Colorado, spring is more rightly known as mud season. Every place has its weather demons. In many places, it's the wind. The Santa Anna's in Southern California are known to drive folks mad, just as summer's eternal light in Northern Alaska acts like PCP.


In the mountains of Colorado, it's mud season that brings out the crazy in people. Those with money or seasonal jobs flee for places warmer. My washing machine repair man (long story) was beginning a two week vacation as he left my house the other day. His plan — drive south. That was it. No plan. No destination. Just. Flee.

When mud season hits, restaurants shut down, shops board up, the town gets quiet. Those who stay are bombarded with the seasonal tease of 65 degree weather followed by freezing temperatures and 12 inches of snow. In 4-hour stretch last Friday, we had every type of weather imaginable — wind, rain, sleet, hail, thunderstorm, snow, fog and sun. Talk about getting caught up in the Cuisinart of the weather gods. Sure, we got 12 inches of snow in 48 hours, but it's spring snow and by nature melts (almost) as fast as it falls. By this afternoon, it was gone.


These photos are from a hike I took this afternoon — just mud, melting snow and a sure sign of spring — wild crocus (aka Pasque flower).

Sylvia with an S

Let me introduce you to Sawyer's very favorite friend, Sylvia. He had his first real playdate — one where I dropped him off at somebody else's house for 4 hours — at Sylvia's house a few weeks ago. I wasn't quite sure what made these two so tight this year. She's headed off to kindergarten in the fall, and in fact she was held back a year so she's a full two years older than Sawyer. All Sawyer's bff's, come to think of it, are 5 and 6 year old girls.

Funny that Sylvia's dad used to be publisher of the newspaper where I work. Not that Sawyer knows or cares about that. Funny, too, that her mother was one of Scott's best storytime friends — one of the only mom's that dared to talk to THAT dad. Not that Sawyer would know that either.

If he was older, I'd think it had something to do with the fact that little Sylvia is not only adorable but is fluent in French, something she's picked up from her native French mother. But, he's not quite that worldly. If she was a little older, I'd think it was just that Sawyer is damn cute and likes fast cars. (That probably still has something to do with it.)

I thought perhaps it was just the "Big S" connection, a favorite fact he shares with everyone he meets. But, it turns out that what these two really have in common is an equal love and appreciation of the imagination. They can play nothing together for hours, happily — just talking and pretending.

So, in summary, Sawyer has the mind of a 6-year-old girl. What to make of that? Hmmmm......

1974 Mother of Two **w/150,000k** — BEST OFFER

Here's the deal. Now that the Beast is in Ford Heaven, I have to take the insurance money and pick out a car that can carry the whole family, the dog and the gear through snow and mountain. Scott took my aging Outback and traded it in on something a bit cleaner with a little less mileage (read: better for his image) that wasn't so thirsty since he drives farther than I do every day.

(My 2005 Subaru Outback)

The OB served us well. It was the first and probably only new car I'll ever own. It was the car I dreamed of having all through high school, college and well into my 20s. And, it was a wonderful vehicle. But, it was too small for a family of five plus dog and gear. Justin is growing and can barely squeeze between the seats. It was never the same after the Subaru Dealer blew up the engine at its 60K checkup. Something to do with an air bubble and a sensor. With 120K, a putrid burnt oil smell when it idled and a question as to whether it would start on any given morning, it's time had come. Some dealer will fix her up and she will give a happy somebody another 100k in her lifetime. (Sniff. Tear. Sigh.)

Scott knew what he wanted. When the truck tumbled he made an instant decision. He didn't want another truck. He wanted a station wagon. He spent an hour online. Drove to Sharpest Rides in Denver. Met Louis. Test drove a car. And, Done.

(Audi A6 Allroad)

So, it's hard for him to understand my OCD car buying issues (I blame my parents who instilled in me a borderline insane practicality where cars are concerned.) The last two weeks has been a living hell for me. I'm up all night on Craigslist and Edmunds with Consumer Reports spread out on the couch next to me, a second glass of wine in hand, vision blurry from staring at the screen to long, trying to sort out the differences between small SUVs and mid-sized SUVs and the nuances in reliability between a 2004 and 2005 of some particular model. God help me.

(2005 Honda Odyssey)
*Back windows roll down in '05 model, not '04

For my 36th birthday, because it sounded better than being stranded all day with two kids and no car while Scott took Justin to the airport, we went Used Car Shopping. It was, in some respects, the best day of the year to undertake such a marriage-endangering venture. Being My Birthday — an official religious holiday — Scott was forbidden from swearing, speaking sharply or showing frustration ALL DAY. His present to me was patience. Even when I led him onto I-25 in the middle of Saturday afternoon rushhour.

Close your eyes and picture the quintessential used car salesman. Got it? Ok. So, Scott had found a salesman in Denver that he was very fond of and insisted that we start with him. After driving into the back alley warehouses of Englewood, I was a bit apprehensive — and then I saw the dealer's motto: "Affordable, Sexy, Sharp!"

"Sexy." It says so right there on the dealer plate like they are selling naked women under the hood or something. So I knew we had to be onto something good. And then I met Louis:


You can't see his bottom half, but let me fill in the rest of the picture for you. Big t-shirt. Baggy jeans. Sneakers. I wasn't sure if he was going to sell us a car or . . . yeah.

So after taking a tour of the "Sharpest Rides" lot and test driving a beat up Volvo XC-90 that left me entirely unimpressed, Louis took us down the road to the "Family Trucks and Vans." Minivans and SUVs galore.

(2004 Volvo XC-90)

Louis walked the entire lot with me and that's when he started to win me over. He'd open a van, stick his head inside and say "whew that stinks ... NEXT!" or thumb his nose a Dodge or tell me straight up that one of the mechanics crashed another car into that one when they were moving things around the lot. OK. This was the kind of car salesman I could appreciate. When we found a car I liked, he handed us the keys and sent us on our way. No pressure. No tagging along. Just. Cool.

Consumer Reports and Edmunds sing the praises of the Odyssey and the Sienna, but with my budget I'm looking at '04 models, and — let's face it — after 8 years on the road, most mini-vans have been through 2 families, 3 shedding golden retrievers, 37 spilt cups of coffee, 205 leaky sippy cups, 5,489 lost Cheerios and not even the new car smell spray can erase the last trip to the petting zoo.

(2007 Hyundai Entourage)

I almost jumped off the minivan cliff when I test drove a 2007 Hyundai Entourage fully loaded with about 70,000 miles and a DVD player. Hell, it's hard to resist with the lazy boy recliners in back and the button that opens the back doors and rear hatch. And I just about drooled over those 19 giant cup holders. The kids were ready give up the house and move in instantly.

I pulled myself back from the ledge after a good night rest and the sudden realization that what I really want for my 36th birthday is something bad ass that can climb steep walls and run completely over Scott's fancy little station wagon.

(1986 Toyota Land Cruiser)

Being as I live at nearly 8,000 feet above sea level in a town that was bummed to lose the "Icebox of America" trademark to International Fall, Minn., I need some sort of AWD/4WD. I need something that looks good when it's dirty but won't look out of place with Winnie the Pooh sun visors in the back windows. I need something that floats over washboard roads in the Utah desert and won't mind the potholes on the way to the trailhead yet can haul preschoolers to playdates and playgrounds.

(2006 Dodge Durango)

I yawned my way through a list of 27 crossovers and small SUVs that were essentially glorified station wagons, crossed off another 7 cars due to unreliable European engineering and turned my nose up at a dozen American behemouths before landing on these three cars:

Toyota 4runner (2004)

Nissan Pathfinder (2005)

and Toyota Landcruiser (2000)

Truth be told, I need a car that I can change the oil on every 3,000 miles and call it good. I can't really afford repairs. And, any car that still fetches $15,000 when its 25 years old and has 150,000 miles HAS to have something going for it, right?

Now the challenge is actually finding one of these cars for sale in the price range they are SUPPOSED to be listed at (according to Kelly's) within 200 miles of my house. Oh Louis . . . .

Justin at the North Cone, 12,060 feet

"Man, the altitude is kicking my butt."

Note: This isn't as easy as it looks. He had to hike up from the top of Panoramic Lift and board down through crusty powder.

Before the crash

And we wonder why they are accident-prone.

Phase 12

I love this phase. He's so good with the kids. Tonight he gave them baths, put on their pjs, read them books, brushed their teeth, combed their hair and put them to bed ..... BECAUSE HE WANTED TO. I didn't even ask him, and not once did I have to remind him about anything. He even sang Sawyer the oh-so-dreaded Spiderman song. It's wild to think that when Justin first came into my life, he was Sawyer's age. He's been here two weeks already — time continues to fly.

Somebody please bubblewrap my family

I don't know what it is lately. The last two weeks all hell has broken loose. First my job. They cut the entire newsroom down to 32 hours a week — AFTER giving us bonuses and generous recreation reimbursements at the end of last year.
Then my good friend had her baby on the weekend of her baby shower when I was soooo looking forward to three days with my old girlfriends from the 'ville.
And then Scott wrecked the truck driving a coworker home on a road he didn't know. Hit black ice. Only minor injuries, but the truck was totaled.
We both had full time jobs and both the cars were finally paid off — and that all lasted about TWO WEEKS!
When are we ever going to catch a break??????????

(Oh, and ps, thank GOD he is okay.)

So, that was last week. This week, Sawyer has crashed on his face three times — first he tumbled off a chair and got rug burn under his eye, then he scratched his cheek at the playground and now he's somehow done his nose in on the bunk bed at the babysitters house. He looks like a bruiser. Still, every time I turn around he's standing atop some piece of furniture.
I don't even want to discuss the time about a month ago that Arden climbed up her armoir and pulled the whole thing down on herself in about 15 seconds while I was putting away laundry. She walked away unscathed, luckily.
Hmm — did I mention the baby powder explosion and wall art that occurred upstairs while I was vacuuming the downstairs for an out-of-town guest?

And, so I was already worried about walking out the front door when THIS NEWS arrived at the office this morning. (This occurred across the highway from my house on the slopes of the local ski hill.)

Easter 2010

It wasn't your typical Easter Egg Hunt in Grand Lake, Colo. Saturday. It was more Easter On Ice (just as whack as Disney on Ice). Eggs were hidden simply by laying them in the snow early in the morning and waiting for a few more inches to fall. And — get this — they were REAL eggs, not the plastic kind full of candy. Traditional, hard-boiled, PAAS died eggs. Hundreds of them. My mother, who was visiting from Virginia where the temperatures were in the 80s last weekend, was in a bit of shock over the whole thing. She should have taken the hint when I told her that Easter outfits would not be necessary this year. Somedays I feel like I've stepped onto the set of "Northern Exposure."