No News is Good News

I don't watch much news on TV.  Part of that has to do with only getting Portland's news stations.  I just can't relate to them.  One week the greater good of Portland is pissed off that their roads are falling apart.  The next week, the same people are pissed off that road construction is going on around them.  Citizens speaking out on the news continuously demand for someone to be held accountable and for someone to correct some sort of problem.

It's not really like that in rural America.  I don't mean to imply that we don't have a long list of our own beefs, yes, pun intended.  We do.  We are inherently independent.  We don't really have a "someone" to blame or "someone" to fix it.  It's more "us" and "we" than "them" and "they" out here.  When our electricity goes out, we grab the binoculars and scan our neighbor's places for functioning irrigation sprinklers or lights to see how big the outage is before we call the power company so we can give them an idea of which power pole went down.  When our water pressure drops, we troubleshoot it ourselves.  We test our own water.  If it goes bad, well, it's our own problem and we just pray it's not the well going bad.  That's on us.  Nobody calls.  Nobody is expected to call.  Honestly, we likely won't even test the water until everyone in the house is sick - and doesn't get better - for maybe weeks...  We certainly aren't going to make a stink about being notified more than once or outside of a 4 hour window.  And we aren't going to demand a costly, city investigation of any of it.  That's time, money and resources that are needed somewhere else.  

When a storm wreaks havok on neighbors fields, we get out of our trucks to help move their irrigation lines, equipment, cows, horses and goats; back to where they belong.  We don't sue them or boycott them or call the news station to come video us carrying poster board signs out in front of their homes.  On the flip side, we don't go cut down their trees for a better view - er, ah, at least without asking.  Turn-a-bout is fair play.  Anyone who has had their lush, green lawn oversprayed with ground sterilizer knows that The Golden Rule is real out here, and you never know when you may need a neighbor to come pull you out of an irrigation ditch or loan you some duct tape.

I understand that having a neighbor's home 6-8 feet away from your own is much different than living a half a mile away.  I get that all the rules, regulations, laws and home owner association codes are disabling within the city limits.  I can only imagine the frustration level reached for a 2 mile drive taking 3 hours.  The city is a different animal.  Part of me is envious.  It might be nice to have the luxury of blame and condemnation.  It might even feel good to assign culpability and demand an outside entity correct the latest issue.  At the same time, I get to live in a world where my coworker's husband was championed this winter for plowing local streets, not because it was his job but because he had the equipment, made the time and had the desire to make things better for everyone.  (Thank you, Josh Tolman!)  I get to live in a world where balance is a way of life and understanding cause/effect and action/consequence is ingrained in our existence, not explained in a college course. It's not easy nor is it fun but it makes us independent and accountable for our own selves, lives, families and home -- and it keeps us from making asses of ourselves on the local news. Frankly, we're too busy and none of us get the local news station anyway.

Burlap Wreath

If you are going to go to the trouble of staining the front door - know in advance that it likely won't stop there.  I think maybe I was spending too much time staring at the fruits of my labor because it started to look very, well, empty.  I searched home décor sights for something, though I wasn't sure what.  A few clicks at Pottery Barn gave me some ideas but the prices!  Yikes! 

(I spend money in time allotments now.  I don't see dollars and cents.  I see units of work.  How many shifts is that pretty, somewhat fragile, organic, welcome wreath really worth to me, anyway?  Yah.  It just wasn't THAT awesome.)

I perused Etsy and I still couldn't do it for the price.  The cheap ones were, well, CHEAP and the items I liked seemed to still be in the $100+ range. 

So I cruised over Pinterest just to see if something - caught - my - eye...  If you don't know Pinterest that likely won't make sense but for those of us that do, we know all too well that it can take you into an alter-universe where time simply disappears.  One moment it's 8 pm and you are waiting for a commercial to end before your favorite TV show starts.  You remember a recipe you saw the other night and take advantage of the break to look it up so you can pick up the ingredients in the morning.  You look up, the house is dark, the TV is off.  Everyone is asleep.  It's 2 am and NO...  You never did actually make it to the ingredients list of that recipe -- what was it anyway?  And who will have time to cook!  You need to get to bed because there are 13 super cool projects that you just found and must absolutely start working on first thing in the morning!!!

Ah, but I digress...  This is about a wreath, right?

Yes, you can find tons of instructions on Pinterest.  So many, in fact, that I'm not even posting the link.  There are thousands.

Mine is made out of a straw wreath base and about 2 yards of burlap cut into 3.5-4.5 inch squares and hot glue gunned into place.  I may have burned most of my fingertips past the nerve endings because eventually they quit hurting.  I found a cardboard letter and wrapped it with twine, holding the twine in place with a fair amount of glue.  (Also seen on Pinterest, of course.)  Then I embellished it with a bandana and USA flag and called it good.

It took about 6 hours from start to finish and about another 4 days to get all the tiny burlap particles out of the house.  It cost about $20 in the end and it discouraged me from starting any new projects for a few weeks -- and THAT likely makes it worth it's weight in gold.

The Outdoor Wine Bistro

A friend of mine posted this photo on Facebook - and I immediately fell in love with it!  I found a link on Pinterest and went to work!

Outdoor Pallet Wine Table

I didn't find specific instructions but it seemed pretty self explanatory.  I cleaned two small wood pallets, added a 2x4 for both additional support and extra shelving, stained them, used metal plates and screws to secure them together, and landscaping cement to adhere concrete pavers to the top.

I used the glass pebbles (from a floral department) with the same landscaping cement to add a bit of bling to the edges and added some "feet" made from a 2x8 to reinforce stability and make it child/dog proof.

The total cost of the project was around $25 but I had a few things on hand that I didn't have to purchase:

Pallets - free

Stain - I used left over stain I already had

2x8 - I used scraps I already had

2x4 - $3

Pavers - $6

Screws, Metal plates - $4

Landscaping Cement - $6

Glass Pebbles - $5

We love our table and use it much more than I anticipated.  This was an easy and very rewarding project!

 



If...

If I could live one day over again, it would be my last day with you.  I wouldn't be too busy packing boxes for college, I wouldn't be distracted by barking dogs and I wouldn't let you walk out that door without memorizing every little detail of your face, voice and laugh.  I am a better person because of you and I'm so, so grateful for our time together.  I find you now in the warmth of sunkissed cheeks after a day on the mountain, in the breeze of a star-filled night, in the laugh of a child that yearns to defy gravity the way you once did; I find you in the cherubic cheeks of your newborn niece's photo.  I find you in every place pure and innocent and beautiful and good.  I'll see you on the flip side, my faraway friend.  Know you are greatly loved and greatly missed.

2014

Less wine, more tea.
Less sugar, more water.
Less sitting, more doing.

Hunting Season

I grew up with one foot in the ocean, one foot in the mountains, my head in the clouds and both hands holding a book.  I know how to use four wheel drive (I'm just glad we don't have to physically put hubs in anymore), I can clean my own fish, and we all know that August through November is a time of year known to most of us simply as "Hunting Season" and that a coveted invitation to Elk Camp is a rite of passage.  I'd say that this is my favorite time of year, but in truth, it's the changing of the season that is my favorite.  I love this. The smell of campfires, the comradery, the end of warm nights in exchange for wild winds and promises of snow.  This is what I grew up knowing.  This is how I enjoy living.  

Elk are amazing animals.  I marvel in their strength, size and ability to elude the mighty hunter. Their beauty is majestic.  A part of me gets a little sad each time one of these animals goes down with a hunter's bullet but it's a fleeting moment that is soon replaced with excitement.  I know in the next several days, the opportunity will come to take the animal apart, piece by piece, and the anatomy lesson is better than any classroom lab or lecture that I've ever been a part of.  I answer most of my own questions by tangibly searching them out.  Is that a vessel or nerve bundle?  Let me get a closer look.  Let me pull it, bend it, trace it with my finger to the origin and let me learn.  It's hard to get enough of it.  


Anatomy lessons lead right into butchering lessons.  Muscles, tendons, bones and ligaments soon shape into steaks, roasts, burger and jerky as the body becomes a carcass.  No pieces are wasted. It's as close to a religious experience as I've been a part of.  Knives are sharpened, jokes are told, meat is cut, wrapped, labeled, shared and frozen.  This is how it's been done for decades.  It brings a continuity to life that our disposable world easily eludes.  It's like coming home after a long trip.  It's an odd form of security. It's a recentering ritual that brings us back to our hunting and gathering roots born hundreds of thousands of years ago.  It's innate and instinctive.  


I was invited back to my roots this year.  It reminded me where I came from and who I am.  In the struggle between life and death, I will always fight for life, it's the nurse in me, but I also appreciate a good steak.  Hunter versus gatherer.  Sometimes it's important to have a foot planted in both worlds to understand the best parts of each.  I know it's something I can't imagine a life without and that make this time of year a little special.  


Besides, what else is there to do while we wait for enough snow for the mountains to open?  Life is good, friends.  

Finding the Right Ratio

I was overtaken by an amazing revelation when I woke today.  This is what happy is suppose to feel like.

Sometimes I get too caught up in the "doing" part of life.   I get too busy to feed the parts of my brain that need to be fed something other than mandatory continuing education credits.  I put off opportunities to fill my spirit and soul because I am simply too tired to fit it into an already overlapping schedule of work, sleep, meetings, errands and household tasks.  I forget to invest in myself so that I have what it takes to give to others.   I find myself defined by roles, responsibilities and expectations. I become a slave to an unfulfilling schedule that eventually begins to reshape the person I am - until something snaps and suddenly, I am reminded, hey, this isn't me.  I know better than this.  

That moment came to me about a year ago while sitting next to the glacial lake at the top of Broken Top.  It was reinforced in San Francisco after a dinner of amazing sushi and just enough saki.  I felt it reverberate through my soul when my skis touched snow last winter but it wasn't until a road trip to Tahoe to watch a friend run the Western States 100 mile trail race that I knew what to do. 

Like the mathematical laws that drive everything from physics to philosophy, my happiness has always been based on a simple formula that balances the ratio of fun to cruddy stuff.  It's so simple, in fact, that I forget it.  I needed less cruddy stuff and more fun.  I needed to make more time to enjoy the things that make me whole.  I needed to surround myself with people who bring an amazing energy into the life they live.  I needed to demand more time for myself and walk away from others demanding time from me.  So, in a giant leap of faith, I quit my job.

(After a few meetings and negotiations, an agreement was reached that I'd still work a few shifts a month, but quitting outright might have been the scariest and bravest thing I've ever done so I don't want the moment to be lost in the story.)

I've been off for 3 weeks now, (wait a minute, it's only been 3 weeks?!) and today, I feel like a new person.