Life, Lately

So I said I wouldn't be back until after the new year, but 3 months worth of pictures were sitting there haunting me, and I decided that writing on my blog wasn't procrastination, after all.


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Do you need some music? Pull up a seat and hit play.

I thought I would dedicate this post to all the people I love, and the perfect days I have with them. This time of year really makes me sappy, and in need of getting a few things off my chest.

This is my life, lately.

A couple months ago, U2 and the Black Eyed Peas came here for a concert. No one ever comes here. Ever. Except country singers. But since we're total home bodies, we decided to cuddle on the couch and stay home, instead. We opened the window and listened to the Black Eyed Peas from our house, but then Michael printed off the U2 set list, and it was all over for me.
"With or Without You" had some serious pull in my 5 year old heartstrings the Spring that it was released. When I saw it on the set list, I knew it was time to go.
So we loaded up Hunter, packed up Petey, got some hot chocolate, and went to see U2.

Now of course keep in mind we never actually do things. We do them our way.
"Our way" that night involved parking at the top of the stadium parking garage, putting down the tailgate, and cuddling up under some blankets to hear (perfectly) and see (only the light show) of the concert. But it was perfect for me. When you're with your best friend, you could be in the middle of the ocean and still feel content with knowing that your other half is there with you.



See the black blob on the middle? That's Hunter at his first big concert. He was pretty excited.



And it was so much better than any concert I'd ever been to. Until the two security guards came:



And stood next to our car trying to intimidate us into leaving by hovering. Sorry, public parking garage :)



In the beginning of November, I had a baby shower for my sister. It was my FOURTH shower to throw in two years.
#1.) I host a lot of everythings.
#2.) A lot of people are having babies.
This time I had help, for the first time, and it was amazing. I threw it with Auva's friend Abbie, and my Mom did all the cooking. Since she's an amazing Persian Martha Stewart, the food was lovely, as usual. Abbie is an Interior Designer with a big knack for crafting/putting together the cutest things. So between the three of us, I say we put on a pretty darn cute baby shower.






Since my sister's last name is Ball, I used my old Ball jars everywhere full of fresh flowers.







Can you guess which onesies came from Aunt Aura?
Her bedding for baby-Ball is giggling turtle from babygap.com, so we matched those colors for the shower.

We had over 20 people, and my house was stuffed! We played a few games, opened presents, and tried to con Auva into picking a baby name. She refused.









I stuck my picture of my little precious baby next to the sink.

No one else agreed, but I see her face so much in that little 3D smile. Maybe it's because she's my sister, and I remember her chubby baby face and that same smile when we were little girls, laughing over nothing. I can't wait to meet him, and wrap my mind around the idea that we're not little girls anymore. She's a Mom, now. And someday our kids will laugh and play like we did.




Since Summer has ended, I have been missing my dear friends like crazy. The cold, bitter winters here don't leave us much time for getting together at outdoor concerts, festivals, and backyard grilling nights.



I guess scentsy parties, and wearing fake bangs with miss Ryan will have to do, for now.
Ps, remind me to never cut bangs. Ever.



Grandpa is my favorite person in the world to take pictures of. Not just that, but to watch, talk to, and hear a joke from. When he tells his stories, he closes his eyes so he can remember every detail. He always, always points one crooked finger, and laughs so hard at his own story, halfway through, that usually he can't finish.



And by the time he does, you have to just sit back and laugh hysterically at the fact that he thinks he's so funny. His jokes are ridiculous...he's maybe told one funny joke his entire life. But his delivery gets me every time.
One time, on his birthday, he told me, slowly, rehearsed, in some of the only English words he knew:
"I am.....84. O'clock."



Sometimes I wish there were a way that everyone in the world could learn Farsi, so they could see his true personality. For some reason I can't imagine that he'd be the same person had he ever learned to speak English. Lately I've spent a lot of time taking pictures of him, wishing I had a video camera. He's almost 90 years old, and I hope the day never comes that I forget what he was like, outside of just pictures. I'm thankful at times like that that he is such an expressive person, and that every picture taken of him has a story to tell on it's own. I will never know what our kids will think of him one day, when I show them pictures of the only Grandpa I ever had or knew. I hope they have the same memories as me, even though they will never know him for the man I have spent the last 27 years learning to understand.

My babysitter, that rode me around in the basket of his bike to the duck pond. The man that collected cans, dug tape recorders and vcrs and fans out of trash cans, and fixed them. I loved the secrets inside his room, a treasure chest of electronics. He'd fix an old tape player, and proudly motion for me to come see. We'd sit around it, I was 8 years old, listening to the Phil Collins tape the once broken cassette player was now playing.

Always, always in a suit jacket and slacks. The dead of Summer or the freezing Winter, his clothing never changes. Covering all of 90 pounds of this incredible man. I wish you could all spend 30 minutes with him, to see him for what he really is. Instead I'll keep showing you pictures of my favorite person in the world to photograph, in hopes that you see the same things that I see.



In November, we had the best Fall weather I can remember. Every day was cool and brisk, with a warming sun and the smell of changing leaves in the air. I don't ever remember loving Fall more. For once I wasn't dreading the cold months ahead, or wishing that it was the first day of Summer, again. Instead I was just living in that moment.
We spend a lot of time outdoors when the weather is nice. Packing up the car and heading out in search of trails, adventures, and lakes for Hunter to swim in.



I found a roserock.





I love these days with everything inside of me. Sometimes it just feels good to disappear. And miles away you hear cars, but you know that whoever is driving them has no idea where you are.


Some days we go to our favorite trails.



And disappear for a little bit.









Until we spot snakes in the trees and Michael screams like a girl. Okay that didn't happen.




But how cute is Hunter in these goggles? He is such an oaf.



I have been doing tons of sewing, lately. When I was in hair school, it was a 40 hour a week program for 10 months. Needless to say, I didn't work. So I saved my tips, and I sewed. I bought old vintage dresses and tablecloths from thrift stores and remade them into purses. For those ten months I paid my $230 car payment, and cell phone bill every month. Sometimes I have to laugh when I think back to how self sufficient I used to be. I guess that's why I will always have some type of job where I get paid to create -it's the only thing I feel right doing. I haven't completely talked about this business that I'm wanting to start, yet. But I will someday soon. I will tell you that it involves my sewing machine, and my uterus. That's all you need to know, for now.





I made some really cute towels out of these pretty fabrics. I wash all my dishes by hand, so I wanted a few cute drying towels for all of them.



This is my pretty stack for Christmas presents. I'm so sorry I can't post most of the things I'm working on right now, because all of my (English speaking) family reads this. But as soon as everything is wrapped and opened on Christmas day, I will show you my projects.


My beautiful client Charlie had her baby boy Michael Thomas in October. I made her a few burpcloths:



Boo Radley had to sneak into that picture.





I wrap everything in tissue paper. Fancy, I know.


My to-go sewing kit fits into a Ball jar. I'm telling you I use these for everything. Storage, flowers, food, decorating.



I took it over to Grandma and Grandpa's a couple weeks ago so I could make Boo's Christmas present. Yes, I made my pincushion a present. But he's not just a pincushion! He's the reason I was rekindled with a new passion for an old love. So he deserves it.
At their house, Grandma knit:




And Grandpa....well. Let's just say at one point Auva called, and I spent the next ten minutes dying laughing at him trying to figure out how to use a cell phone.



The hello picture is the best. The mouth receiver is on his ear.



When he got the hang of it, he was so proud. He leaned like a cholo. Plaid shirt, and all.

Oh! and I made some pillows for the guest room.



I decided to indefinitely put this room on hold. We talked, and we decided to move out of this house. Not right now, but within two years. We want to be closer to my parents, and closer to the parts of town where we spend most of our time. And of course, my heart is with an old house that needs lots of love. So by the end of two years, we will hopefully be out of this new build, and into a creaky, ugly, wallpapered, outdated fixer upper. I couldn't be happier.
So I just decided to make some pretty pillows, decorate the room with things around the house, and call it a day.



My mom finished knitting the blanket for nameless baby-Ball.





I love her for her endless creative ability. I wouldn't be who I am today without her artistic touch.
Or my Dad's love of wine.


In November, Uncle Ken came and stayed with us for a week. We called it "vacation week," and that it was. It was a week of no cooking for me, staying up late, drinking too much, and going to dinner every night. I was seriously heartbroken when he left. In March, we are planning a trip to go stay with him at one of his condo's in Florida, and I can't wait to get away.



Patio nights.



Eating an Italian feast.



Our German food night. I loved this night. We got a basket of fresh baked bread and pretzels, drank beer and German wine (my favorites) ate schnitzel,



Oogled the beer boots everyone was drinking.



Celebrated my birthday.



Fell in love with the old cars outside.



And looked at Christmas lights.



For my birthday, Michael bought me every single season of Def Poetry, after searching for months. I started watching these when I was in college, and fell in love. Almost ten years later, I still told Michael about the Def Poetry I used to love to watch on HBO. They're really hard to find online to watch, so he bought them all for me :) We've been spending a lot of late nights watching them. I told him he was only enabling my infatuation with Mos Def. He seemed okay with it.

My birthday. We celebrated a few times. One night alone with Michael, to rip open the dvds and watch.
One night at the German restaurant with Uncle Ken. Another night back at home, where he gave me my presents:





And I had to laugh at this adorable "I LOVE MY LAB" keychain. Well, I do :)


& One night with my family...



Where my Mom baked me an amazing cake from scratch, with 27 raspberries.





And Holly. Always jealous of everyone elses cake.



It was kind of the best birthday I ever had. 27 on the 27th, I spent it surrounded with the people I love most in life.

On the day of my birthday, we were in Michael's hometown with his family, having our second Thanksgiving.



We filled a banquet table.



I made my Mom's sweet potato casserole. It's never as good as hers. But anytime you combine sweet potatoes, brown sugar, pecans, and butter, it can't be bad.


Oh, I guess I skipped the first Thanksgiving, with my family.



Grandma never lets me take pictures of her. Grandpa loves it.



My family is super short. And my 6'3 husband is super tall.





We had a lot of yummy food. My Mom cooks everything from scratch, nothing from a package, can, or bag. She even makes the rolls from scratch.











My niece, Savanna, was glued to my hip the entire day.

When we were done eating, I took her out into my parents yard to explore. I love their backyard, I could spend hours back there, no matter what time of year.



When she spotted these pods, she became fascinated by them. When I broke one open for her to show her the seeds, she asked me what they were, and then I spent an hour explaining to her how seeds to plants are like babies for us. We picked them out of the dried basil, flowers, and every single pod left on the vines. Then she picked the biggest green pepper left in the garden to take home, and I got to explain to her what herbs were, and how it was safe to eat them. Every time she comes to our house, she wanders around asking if she can eat things. I have basil and mint mixed into my landscaping, so she loves knowing what she can and can't eat.
I can't wait to teach our kids all these things, someday.

And then we spotted an ugly bug. Being gross. First it was gross because it looked like a mix between a shiny grub, grasshopper, and winged creature. Then....



I saw exactly what was going down. Oh dear god. I still get the shivers even SEEING this. Not only was this thing giving itself a blow job for what seemed like ETERNITY before I noticed and shooed her away, but LOOK AT IT. It's the most disgusting, hideous bug I've ever seen. Any ideas what this thing is? My dad is a wildlife/insect/plant pro and he had no ideas. Mostly I think he was distracted by what was actually going on. Gross.

After we ate, everyone was pooped.





I loved spending the day with my lovely family. All shorties.



When Ken left, we were terribly sad. It was a gloomy, rainy day. I made him a cd for the road:



With a picture of my peace sign as the cover, and a cd full of my favorite songs. Mostly Jack Johnson, or "John Johnson," as he called him.


I really had to laugh at his sense of humor when I went in the guest room and saw his idea of making the bed.



Beautiful.




I was missing the outdoors in a serious way at the end of the month when it started to get cold. I made this little bouquet for Michael's Grandma out of things from my garden and around the yard:



Purple heart & lavender.



After Thanksgiving I had to get rid of all my pumpkins, which was a sad, sad day.



This one was rotted. I wasn't as sad about it. I called my brother in law and pawned off the load on him. I had painted a pumpkin with Savanna in the early fall, and I put together an art kit for her full of glitters, markers, paints, and sequins in Christmas colors, and I thought she'd like to paint some pumpkins in festive colors. It made me feel less guilty about throwing them all away.



We still spend every Saturday all day at my parents house.

Michael will watch football and work on homework



While Hunter snoozes.
&

My Mom and Grandma cook. Grandma usually does all the dirty work.



Like shelling pecans, and cleaning up pomegranates. I tell her a thousand times that I don't like them because the seeds bother me, but I always get force fed big chunks. Auva is the pomegranate lover out of us two kids, so that always means that I have to eat her share since she moved away.

My Dad does his schedules for work, Grandpa tells stories, and I wander around the yard for hours before we eat.



I was thinking a lot about Frisky, this day. It's been one year since I lost my little Christmas kitten....the best present I ever got for Christmas the year I turned 8 years old. We lost her last December at 18 years old, and I will still break down crying at the thought of it.

She's buried behind the pond, under the willow tree in that upper left hand corner picture. My heart still breaks to hear her ugly meow, one more time.



This is a sapling from that willow tree. My parents are growing it for us. We were going to take it to our house, but now that we're not sure how long we'll stay, I wish we could just wait to take it.



My Dad always comes out to grill the veggies and kabobs, and it breaks my outside concentration and kitten memories.



It was windy, and we were holding down the foil and talking, and I had to notice our hands. I see where I get my short, stubby hands from. My hairy knuckles, and inability to not cut myself. On the exact. same. finger. as him. I had to laugh at our matching band-aids.

After we all eat together, we drink hot black tea, for the third time that day.



My Mom lights the candles, we turn down the lights, and all sit in the living room together for a few hours. It's my day to read magazines that have piled up, my Mom knits, and the world it perfect in that exact moment. I never want to be anywhere else in the world on Saturdays. We don't even get home until 10:00, but I never want those nights to end.


Since my parents house is still under construction from the bedroom addition and downstairs remodel, my Mom was heartbroken over not being able to decorate for Christmas this year. Normally, their house looks beautiful.









But this year, their entire downstairs flooring will be ripped out, making room for new wood floors, so no decorations went up. I put out a few things around their house that Saturday, because it's too sad to have nothing out.






Here is their new bedroom addition, before the sheetrock:





And after. It's coming along.



Michael moved his drums into the garage, which helped my sanity out immensely.





We hang out in the garage a lot in the winter, and this night was my personal concert.
Afterward when he looked at the pictures, he said "Why are there so many pictures of my crotch?"
Oops.

Now that it's December, it is COLD cold cold cold COLD. The coldest I ever remember it being in December. And if you know one thing about me, know that I am the girl that LIVES for Summer, and dreads Winter with every bone in my body. I hate the cold, I hate itchy sweaters, scarves, gloves, coats, ice, seeing my breath, cold sheets, January and February as a whole, trees with no leaves on them, being dry and itchy, wearing shoes, and everything else that comes with this time of year. I really feel like I'm a very loving person...with lists and lists of things that make my heart smile, but nothing about Winter is on that list.

Even Hunter has been terribly antsy, dying to spend every evening after work sitting on the patio with me for hours while I throw him the ball.






Ohhhh how I miss those days. Bad. I miss my dangly Summer earrings, my black flip flops, my favorite holy jeans that are so worn in that I don't even unbutton or unzip them when I take them off.

I even miss him bringing me his slobbery ball, with a nasty grassy mouth.






Even when I look down and notice the ball he's dropped on me has a slobber string on it.



I still can't help but love him.


I guess Hunter and me will just have to wait, for now. Until the grass starts to turn green, and the world comes alive again.



For now, we have to play inside most of the time. But I still try and take him out in the evenings at least 3-4 times a week, because I just feel too guilty when I get home and he looks at me with his sad eyes.
Of course it's always dark, and about 14 degrees and windy as crap. And our backyard faces North, giving me that lovely, face shattering North wind. Reminding me how much I love cold weather.

I am hideous in the Winter. Do you know what I wear when I go outside with Hunter? My poor, dear husband.



Pretty, right?



My favorite part is the socks. With jeans tucked in. Under sweatpants. Don't be jealous.

It takes everything I have to try and muster up a decently cute outfit in the Winter. What do people wear to still look cute?!? I can't find anything that isn't a big self esteem bummer.



Is this cute? Those aren't even real shoes. They're the house shoes my Mom got me for Christmas a few years ago, because my feet are always cold.


For the most part if you see me for the next 3-4 months, this is my face:



Cold. And heartbroken.




Look at poor Grandpa!! This was his INSIDE outfit. I went over one night to find him like this. Also cold and heartbroken, and complaining that he couldn't ride his bike anywhere in this cold.

Is it March, yet?




The animals are cute, as always.





Boughs. Boughs of holly...I know this now.






We tried last weekend to take Christmas card pictures again, with no luck. Five minutes in we felt completely ridiculous and stupid, and just had fun, instead.





Some of these were our posed middle school friend pictures. We had like forty poses. I'll spare you and give you three.


Oh. And another little project I'd been working on:



One day I was driving along and saw this hugeeee huge wood frame on the side of the road. A heavy wood frame. So I slammed on my breaks all squealy breaks like, and reversed it. I threw open the hatch to Petey, and shoved this monster in. I might have broken it worse in the process. I don't know.
It was covered in webs, chipped, and falling apart. But I fell in love, and knew right away what I'd do with it.



I kept seeing these pinboard in Pottery Barn and coveting them with jealousy.



I wanted what I imagined to be in inspiration board for above my sewing nook. Somewhere where I could pin up pictures of ideas, crafts, and projects. So....





Michael cut down some corkboard and wood backing for me, and we wrapped it up in burlap and covered it up.



I'm a huge fan of staple guns, I hogged it.



This was on the back, and I left it. I wish I could have seen the original piece in it.



I filled in all the stains, cleaned it up, and Michael hung it above my nook.





Excited is an understatement, I'm in love with this fancy little piece of junk brought back to life. So far, I have one little doodle drawing for an idea for a painting, and a picture of a sewing form stuck to it. But it will soon be full of pretty ideas I want to bring to life. When I have things in front of me, I make visual commitments to them. In the same way that I make lists for everything -only for the satisfaction of crossing each task off, and then ultimately throwing away a completed list. I can't wait to use my inspiration board as a visual list of all my projects.



I have been doing a ton of cooking, lately.



This is where I spend my evenings, in my ugly kitchen. Which I feel the need to finally address.

My kitchen is ugly. My tile is gray, with more gray grout. The appliances are black and white, and the countertops are a lovely laminate that I affectionately refer to as "clouds" because of the layered cheap painting technique I guess they thought imitated granite. My cabinets are the worst part. They're oak....80's oak. Oak is my least favorite wood. I wish I could say my house was even from the 80's....it was built 6 years ago. Which means that only 6 years ago, someone sat in a chair and pointed to these cabinets, and these very counter tops. And said "YES, PLEASE. I will take the oak, and blue cloud combo."

Sad.

My cabinets are also hardware-less. Accentuating the oakiness, and breaking every single nail I have in attempts to open drawers and doors.

There. I said it. I showed it. I'm not longer ashamed of it. Originally, we thought we'd spend a lot of money to remodel this kitchen. But now that we're talking about moving in a couple years, I might just have to live with it. And I'm okay with that.

My kitchen is ugly. Really ugly.
But there's a lot of love that comes from this kitchen. I pour hours into meals here, I make our Sunday morning french toast here, I stare out my window and daydream while I do dishes, I set plants in the little sunny window that I always wanted, I drink wine here, laugh here, and it might not be perfect, but it's perfect for me.

So no more avoidance pictures of this ugly mess, here it is, in all it's glory.



And I love it, and all the things that come out of it.




In the beginning of this new year, I'm going to do Food Week.

I've been saving pictures of groceries and meals I've been cooking for weeks, to gather up my favorites and show them to you guys.

I love food. A lot. I have a serious relationship with food, that begins with a healthy understanding of what my body needs, what it wants, and learning the difference between the two. I study labels, research vegetables, the proper ways to chop them, store them, cook them. I learn what flavors go with others, I measure by memory, because two teaspoons or half a cup are forever embedded in my mind. I obsess over balanced meals, organic produce, no preservatives, and the food pyramid. I ignore cookbooks because I always think I can do it better, and maybe that sounds arrogant, but I've got the blood of one damn good cook, and one restaurant owner burning through my veins.

I cook a majority of my meals from scratch.



Soups, sauces, dressings....you won't find me pouring any of these out of a jar, can, or squeeze bottle. I'm not perfect, and sometimes I just want to grab a frozen pizza from Wal-Mart, but this last year I have really changed a lot of things around here, food wise.
I promise I'm not the nutty girl that won't touch food from a package, but I have found such solace in knowing that the majority of the things I make for dinner each night, I grew, chopped up, baked, and put together on my own.

Every week it's something new. Last week I learned to make salad dressing. I will never buy a bottle of it, again. The week before I made pancakes from scratch, and they didn't suck! A few nights ago I made spaghetti sauce with organic vegetables and a puree I made in my food processor. It was good. Really good. A couple weeks ago I learned to make pasta sauces out of just butter, cheese, & vegetables. Now I don't have to stare at the back of a Ragu jar and wonder what the hell Maltodextrin is and why the hell it's in my food. Or why in the world do they put Xanthan gum in EVERYTHING packaged and why don't people know that it's a laxative?

Along the way, some of the things I made were gross. Considering I never use recipes, I just try to figure out food for myself, I have some messes along the way. I'm not embarrassed to admit that, I don't claim to be this organic goddess of the kitchen. But this is a new point in my life that I've been working towards for months, and sometimes documenting these things out loud is the best way for me. Just like my inspiration board, I hope to make Food Week something that not only inspires me to be a better cook with a better understanding of the things we put in our bodies, but hopefully it inspires all of you to re-evaluate the food that you produce in your home, for yourself, and your families.

Growing up, the kitchen was truly the heart of our home. Until this year, I had never really realized that when you love somebody, or you raise a family, the things you feed them play a huge part in the love and appreciation that you get to show them through your meals. I get it, now.
With all of that, I will also talk about much I spend on groceries, how I buy organic without having to donate my eggs for extra grocery money, what I look for in labels, how I cook vegetarian meals without my husband dying in agony, and the age long question....how the hell do you chop garlic?

So look for that sometime in the beginning of 2010. I need to gather a few more weeks of recipes, and I'm ready to go.




This weekend was lovely. Sunday it was in the 60's and sunny, and I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Of course the next day the temperature dropped 30 degrees, but I was happy for one day. We had to make it an outdoors day.

In the winter, we visit the Wichita Mountains a lot. We've tried it a couple times in the Summer, but for some reason we seem to prefer it in the colder months. There is a trail system we've hiked a few times, but never had time to finish. I think we've done it three times without seeing the end before it was too late in the evening to go on.

I packed us some vitals:



Honey challah bread, blueberry granola, bananas, pears, granola bars, dog food, 1 liter water bottles, a flashlight, first aid kit, towels, extra clothes, camera equipment, and one excited lab.

Before you judge my husband for any of these pictures, I asked to wear the backpack for the entire hike. A couple Summers ago we hiked a serious trail in the Rocky Mountains. I consider myself to be in pretty decent shape, we spend a lot of time outdoors, hiking, walking trails, riding bikes. When we kayak, I do the 12 mile run with no problems, I'm always ready to go on for more.
That year in Colorado, I got a few miles into the hike before I felt death creeping up on me. Granted I know I only have the insane elevation change to blame, but I was still angry at myself for not finishing. So lately I've been wanting to push myself, and if that meant carrying all the hiking gear, so be it. I kind of wish I'd left my SLR camera, because it weighs almost 2 pounds alone and I didn't get it out once. I know for next time.


Three times on the trail or not, we could NOT for the life of us remember the name of it, and spent about an hour driving around with a crappy map of the mountains, trying to remember which one it was. We knew if we didn't get busy we'd be stranded out in the middle of nowhere when it got dark (don't forget your flashlights and first aid kits when you go hiking!!) so we picked the closest one at our "we give up" point and headed to it.





At first we were very aggitated that the trail turned out to be an easy, woodsy type hike that we take all the time with no challenges, whatsoever. The old trail we go on basically starts out having to just over a river that's about five degrees, that I always have to take my shoes off and walk through because it's too big of a jump. Then it's up a rocky, almost vertical wall, and the trail begins.



This is from a couple years ago. We were sad for our trail we didn't find. To think I'd spent the entire drive agonizing over the thought of Hunter not being able to make it up the rocks.



But then it got better. And rockier.



And prettier.



And more cactusy.






And we passed a man hiking that asked which direction we were headed, and told us to be careful, because a herd of bison were heading our direction.

The poops got closer....



And I fell more and more in love with my Teva's. Please buy a pair for hiking purposes. When we were in Colorado, the first thing we did the night we reached Boulder was googled an REI so I could buy a pair.

And then we saw them....



And Hunter saw them. But thankfully didn't bark at them, or even get their attention like I was dreading.
We just watched. It's amazing that some people will go their entire lifetime only seeing animals like this in a zoo. Here they are, in their natural environment, eating, pooping, living.



Lots of pooping.



Big, heaping piles of pooping.


We moved on.



Right around here, we lost our trail. It might have just ended, actually. But we kept seeing the mountain summit in the distance, and it looked too good to pass up. We still had a good 2 hours of light, so we pushed on. Everyone we ran into past that point was in hiking gear. It made me feel like less of a weenie for not finishing the trail in Colorado. Especially since I was carrying the backpack :)



See those stacked boulders? That was our goal. The Summit. So we went on.



And then instead of trail, we had rocks. That we had to climb to get up. Well....Michael is a monster so he can take big leaping steps, Hunter jumped, and I climbed. Hoping that the extra weight on my back wouldn't knock me backwards and I wouldn't crack my head open and fall into a steamy pile of buffalo poop.





Every point we got to was so pretty along the way.



From the side, mashed boob wasn't cute. But from my angle looking down, I had some serious cleavage, which never happens for me.



Then I climbed this rock.
No I didn't.



We were so close! Look how far we'd come. We stared at this thing from miles away, and now it was right above us.



Those low-laying areas are where we saw the bison in the open fields. It's so much more amazing up here looking down, than down there, looking up.



The summit was just over these rocks. The ones that I swore I would officially crack my head open on.



The rest of the way looked like this.



Oh come ON Hunter...quit making me look bad.



This was looking back down from that rock, once I got up it. Safely. With an uncracked head.



And we made it :)



I made it too! Mashed boobs and all. Still wearing the backpack.





And then I said: "THIS should be our Christmas card picture. Not a cheesy one posed by our tree."





The sun was disappearing behind the mountains, so we started our way back down, which proved to be a LOT harder. When you climb up, you just focus on getting up. When you climb down, your body and muscles have to resist, and little boulders hiding ugly cactus plants seem to come out of nowhere.



You didn't think I could do this without getting hurt, did you? Mind you my foot was already bleeding, but that's not a true battle wound. Only after I thought to myself "wow I haven't gotten hurt yet...' did I get hurt.

I have a bad track record with the Wichita Mountains.


Care to see?



In January 2005, I wore my favorite ripped jeans. Ironic that that very exposed knee would meet it's match....an angry rock.



November of that year, Michael died there. Okay no he didn't. He was just resting.



April 2007, I was actually safe. To my surprise!



The bison were not safe from me.



In the Summer of 2008, Michael died again. No he didn't, again.



But we went swimming.



And wandering around.

And....




OUCH. What's with me and knees?!? This one was bad. It was DEEP. White meat deep. Still have an ugly scar deep.




At least I still have a sense of humor.


So I joked that every time I visit, I leave a little piece of flesh and DNA. No sooner had I said this, that I was stabbed by an angry cactus. In my knee. THE knee. I was scared to pull my pants up and look. Fortunately I wasn't bleeding. But you know what's weird? I had two puffy bite looking things, and a huge bruise. From a cactus!! Michael said it must have just broken all the blood vessels around it. That bastard. I should have uprooted it and shown it who was boss. Then I peed on a rock and we went home.





But not before we pulled up next to this guy, Michael rolled down the window for the picture, Hunter barked in the backseat, this beast looked like it wanted to kill us, and I floored it and sped off.



He was a very tired boy on the way home.


I love those days. We try to go once and sometimes twice a year to the Wichitas, but I feel like we need to go more often than that. It goes back to my love of just disappearing away from the world for a while, and getting to appreciate the little bits of this amazing Earth we have left that are so preserved.



And that brings us up to this point. Those were the last couple months in my life, and today was something else that was very, very big.




This morning, my sister gave birth to this amazing little peanut. His name is Brady Ball, and he's perfect.
Today was a good day.








I have grown to love the unexpected, for in it is the miraculous. Here is where we are shown. Events that create our lives to be more enjoyable, more loving, more adventurous than anything we ever could have planned. Why do we think we know... when we let go...and trust... the mundane of life becomes the profound. Leave your concepts at the door of fate, open your arms. Today, is a good day.