Santa's helpers

Christmas tree

This year we had a much easier time traveling down Forest Service roads than we did last year. We did run into a lot of ice on the roads (as seen above) but Moses was the only one who had any reservations about walking on the ice.



Now we have a fully decorated tree that we didn't have to find at Home Depot this year. And Tyler eventually did get his Christmas wish from last year too: a big burly truck.

A Thanksgiving visit

My brother came to visit us for Thanksgiving. Since his freshman year at Northern Arizona University, Zack has always traveled to spend the holiday with us. Part of the reason this began was the trek back home was a little too far for the short holiday weekend, and I’d like to think the other part was because he missed me.

The first few years were a little trying. My brother and I fought a lot growing up — nothing out of the ordinary, but just the normal sibling spats.

But over the course of time, our spats have stopped and we’ve started to enjoy each others company. This has a lot to do with growing up, and me not picking a fight every chance I could to spite my brother. As my dad would say, we’ve pulled our heads out for air and now we’re beginning our post-childhood relationship.

I really enjoy the relationship we have now. It took a long time to get here, but I’m thankful we finally did.

Thanksgiving

I woke up early this morning to start baking for our Thanksgiving dinner on Friday. I have to work tomorrow, so we're celebrating a day late.

My Grandma baked the best rolls for the holidays. I looked forward to them every year. I never baked them with her — she’d show up on the day of the feast with perfectly shaped, fluffy, white rolls in square sheets that you’d break apart. I’d always save my rolls for when I was finished eating. I would use them to clean my plate of all the leftover gravy and cranberry sauce.

The first time I tried to make her rolls was in Tahoe. I called her up and wrote down the recipe on an old envelope, which I still have. They weren’t perfect — unless you consider slightly fluffy hockey pucks perfect. The subsequent trials of replicating her rolls only improved by slight increments.

This morning I wanted to bake her rolls like she did. This is the first holiday she won’t be able to make them, and it felt wrong that her legacy wouldn’t be represented. Baking at altitude can be a daunting task, but a little knowledge from the Joy of Cooking can go a long way.

My parents let me have her old recipe box after she died. Her roll recipe is one of the most worn cards in the box. I followed the instructions, letting her handwriting guide me through the steps.

Now the rolls are out of the oven, and this attempt is my most successful thus far — the rolls are beginning to look more and more like hers.

Hopefully they’ll taste just as good too.

Luke was here

Luke came to visit us for three days last week. Moses wore his best outfit for the occasion (see above). The boys had a great time bonding and hanging out. Granted their adventures weren't nearly as extreme as they were in college, but they still had an awesome time. And as always, Kent made his pitch on why everyone needs to live in Vail. Luke left considering the idea, so we'll see how convincing Kent actually was.

Alpenglow

al·pen·glow noun \ˈal-pən-ˌglō\

: a reddish glow seen near sunset or sunrise on the summits of mountains

origin: part translation of German Alpenglühen, from Alpen Alps + Glühen glow

First Known Use: 1871

Halloween

Our split personality Jack-o-lantern — even he is afraid of himself.

Winter

Couch

While walking the dogs last week, we spotted a free couch on the side of the road that was much nicer than ours. It even had a hide-a-bed. Without much discussion, we took the dogs back home, brought the truck over and loaded up the coach.

After receiving help from a couple of construction workers next door, we managed to wrestle the couch into the house. Now we had to figure out what to do with the old crappy piece of furniture.

For that evening, the old couch sat upright on our deck, making anything in our storage closet unreachable. Tyler said he planned to strip the couch so we could burn the wood and toss the rest, thus saving ourselves a trip to the Wolcott dump and a dumping fee.



He started early on Sunday morning with the Broncos’ game on the television. After a bit, he decided just to dismantle a third of the couch, leaving the rest to be Moses’ dog bed in our bedroom.



But it looks like Moses — and Aspen — are quite smitten with the new couch.

Road trip part two: Ouray

For the second part of the road trip, we left the dogs with Kent and headed on down to Ouray (pronounced you-ray). In a weird way, it reminds a lot of Homer with its tourist season, small shops, and quirky locals. We stayed at the Black Bear Manor —which is an awesome bed and breakfast — and hung out for three days.

We hiked every day, and then would reward ourselves with some drinks and grub. Our favorite spot was the Ouray Brewery, which had some good beers and food to chow down on. Plus it had an awesome deck:



And here's the random section of the trip: the homemade burro trailer:



We followed it the last 30 miles home, and we were both enthralled with its sleek design. If you need to see a couple more pictures of this modern marvel of engineering, click here.

Road trip part one: Moab

Before the winter season commences, us West Vailers wanted one last summer fix. So Kent joined us for four nights camping in Moab. We wanted to explore a different area, so we drove down Kane Creek Road a ways. After driving for an hour, Kent and I were starting to lose faith in finding the perfect campsite. Tyler was a bit more optimistic. When we reached the top of Hurrah Pass, the boys stopped and asked a bald guy on a four-wheeler if he knew any good camping spots. He didn't have a hat, helmet, sunglasses, or appear to be wearing any sunscreen in the desert. Here is the account, as recited by the boys later.

The boys: Is there any good camping down that way?

The Guy: No camping. Just drove through Lockhart Basin. I gotta get home.

The boys: So where would you go camping?

The Guy: I can't go camping, I need to get home.

The boys: We mean, if you were us, where would you go camping?

The Guy: I gotta go home.

The boys: No. If you were US, where would you want to camp.

The Guy: Oh, I'd go that way to trippin' springs - got caves and lots of cool stuff. I'd go that way.

So we headed on down the road. I wasn't very impressed with The Guy's recommendation at first. I figured he had fried his brain out in the desert sun. Then we saw a sign that said Dripping Springs, and took a left. Within five minutes we found the caves, and then our campsite. Way to go Guy!



The next morning we went to explore the caves. We forgot our headlamps, so we had to backtrack to camp to fetch them up. After we had proper lighting, the spelunking (and picture taking) was much more enjoyable.

Throughout our time camping, we managed to come up with a few songs that we all can sing a few lines to. Some of our titles include "We lost Aspen in Moab" (don't worry, we really didn't), "Doing drugs in the desert" (don't worry, we didn't), and "I was born with a birthmark." Here are some of the lyrics Kent came up with:

I was born with a birthmark / it's all I've got on my skin
I don't have tattoos of snakes, scorpions or bullshit / I just want you to get f@#%in over it

I actually have the whole song on video, but I promised Kent I wouldn't post it. So if you want to see it, you have to come to West Vail to watch it. But here are the other pictures from our trip that I know you will enjoy just as much.

Katie and Athena in Vail

Katie and Athena came to spend last week with us. Athena gave us lots of smiles, and slept the whole time we went hiking to view the spectacular fall colors. Here are some of the sights we saw, but don't worry — we didn't trespass on any property, so we didn't have to be dealt with.

Fall

An Aunt and Uncle

The last few weekends Tyler and I ventured off the hill. First Steve and Karen were in town, and then we catered a dinner for Ian and Michelle. As we were driving home last Thursday, we realized how much we loved spending time with our nieces.

When we first moved here, you could tell Mazie wasn’t completely familiar with us. She always is warm and welcoming to everyone, but now she remembers us and we can pick up right where we left off. Our dogs even have nicknames with her now (Asp-e and Mo-e).

I think we’re getting better at the aunt and uncle thing. It’s still hard remembering to be prepared for every possible scenario when hanging out with kids. But we aren’t fooled anymore when Mazie says she isn’t hungry, and then asks where her sandwich is a half and hour later. We know now we’re supposed to state her options in different day-today activities; and we can play, act, paint and draw with the best of the 3-year-olds.

And recently Athena entered our lives. We were able to drive down and see her on her birthday, and it’s amazing how much she’s grown already. I can’t believe how much stronger she is within a week of seeing her last. She keeps trying to lift up her head and check out the world around her.

We like seeing our nieces milestones. I documented Mazie’s first soccer game two weeks ago, and it made me wonder where she’ll be in the coming years. Will she be a soccer star? Will this be a funny story to tell her when she is an accomplished artist? Who knows — it’s just awesome to see the transformation from the baby I met in North Carolina, to the loving big sister who likes to “mess on” her little sister. So far Athena is very reflective, but I know she’ll be running around and expressing herself soon enough.

Now for all of our parents out there: don’t get too excited. We’re still planning on just being the cool aunt and uncle that can leave our nieces with their parents and the end of the day.

I can’t wait for my brother to have kids.

Camping and Tammy

Kent, Tyler and I returned to Coffee Pot this last weekend to explore the area more. On our way, we stopped in Eagle to purchase gas a beer. Upon entering the liquor store, we were greeted by an overzealous clerk who we came to refer to as “Tammy.”

We chose this name because it fit her appearance and personality: white trash West Sloper with caked on foundation, sparkly blue fake nails, cut-offs with a faded Old Navy sweatshirt. Not only did her she look the part, but her art of conversation matched as well.

“How y’all doing today? We got a lot of great specials — you like dark spiced rum? Great package deal here. Y’all see the new Jack Daniel’s bottles? They’re pretty mean looking.”

We told her we were just looking for cheap beer to take camping. She tried to derail our path to the Coors, and proceeded to take us over to the micro brew section.

“Got a lot of great package deals for Colorado brews. Ya ever have Dales? Sam Adams also gots a nice variety pack. We also got Shocktop on the other side of the store. You need gluten-free beer? Cause we got that too.”

After finally succumbing to a 12-pack of Dale’s, and two suitcases of Coors, the boys stopped to grabbed a bottle of Jim Beam.

“Is that glass? You should take plastic if you're camping. Don’t want any accidents by the fire and all.”

Since the store gave customers a free bag of ice for every case if beer bought, Tammy happily helped us carry the ice to the car, where she talked about being a member of the four-wheeler club in high school, all of her favorite campsites, and how she jumped out of the boat to wrestle her trout back after the line broke.

After what felt like an eternity of conversation, we were on our way to the Flat Tops. After an hour long Forest Road detour proved to be unsuccessful (warning: FR 62o SUCKS), we settled on a satisfactory campsite.

Then the rain came.

Scrambling, we managed to put together an okay shelter. The blue tarp covered the campfire, and enough room for three camp chairs. We feasted on hot dogs, beer and planned for a more successful outing in the morning.

The next day we found an awesome campsite on Heart Lake (as seen above with Moses). We moved our camp, and enjoyed the rest of our time at the lake. We watched a military helicopter practice landing (my pictures didn’t turn out), a lightening show from about 40 miles away, and did a little rock cookery again with burgers.



All in all, it was a very fun, memorable trip. My only regret is that I didn’t get a picture with Tammy. Here are the other photos though. And if you ever want to, I’m sure she’d love to chat you up at the Eagle Liquor Store if you ever have a minute or two.

Camping with Logan

We went camping one last time with Logan before he went back to school. As you can tell from the above photo, we had an awesome, crazy time that was filled with Xtreme Croquet, dangle balls, Bocce Ball and a cardboard & duct tape boat race. To top it off, we saw a porcupine, and buck while we were hanging out. Here are a few photos from the trip.

One year

home noun \ˈhōm\
1 a: one's place of residence : domicile
b: house
2: the social unit formed by a family living together

Today is our anniversary. So far we've stayed true to our vows — especially to be goofballs and make sure we make each other laugh everyday. You have an uncanny ability to carry this out effortlessly. I do keep up my end of the bargain, but I think you laugh at me a lot when I’m not trying to be funny.

I knew when I married you that we probably would end up moving a few more times, so our home would change a lot. But as long as I can wake up next to you, solve crossword puzzles together, snuggle while watching watching movies and share a nightcap after the end of the work day, it’ll always feel like home wherever we are.

I love you Tyler, and I can’t wait to hear what crazy plans you have for us in the future.

Whitney Lake

Here are pictures of the hike.

Summer time

The beat of summer keeps a constant tempo. Before you know it, the work week drums by and it’s time to load up the truck to find new camping melodies.

The get-up-and-go is a part of the weekend routine, and we execute packing with speed and precision. A new camping spot is awaiting us at the end of the road trip.

Once found, the tent and chairs practically pitch themselves and our second home is made. Beers crack open, a fire sparks, and the cribbage board shuffles cards.

Night falls, and the flames draw us in like a trance. Philosophizing, dreaming, and beckoning our chat on a little longer with each word. The stars hover over, as not to be outdone by the fire flickering below them.

The morning creeps over the trees, insisting coffee percolate. Soon everything must be packed up, waiting to be released until the next weekend.

But for now, a still morning and coffee must be enjoyed.

Enough of my rambling — here are the latest pictures from our trip to Brown Creek (just north of Salida).

Aspen chases Moses

Tyler takes the stage

I coaxed a reluctant Tyler into preforming his Bob Dylan impression for the camera. The conversation is a little hard to hear, but he's mostly telling me no and to "take the camera off my face."

Meet Ted

Ted is the newest addition to the Hansen household. So far he is fitting in well, and likes his new digs. But I guess anything is better than a plastic container at a pet store...

Mazie with her Uncle Ty Ty

Ty's Birthday

For Ty's 27th birthday, we went camping with Quinn, Kent and Logan. The four boys set out and accomplished what they needed to do: drink lots of alcohol, chop wood, shoot a pellet gun, play camping games and grill meat on a rock in the fire pit (except for Logan). Here are the pictures from the trip. And here's a video of Quinn chopping wood:

Storms

I had left the window open. The light catcher charms my mother made for me violent swung against the glass. Rain sputtered into the kitchen. I ran over and latched it shut. The trees bent in submission to the wind.

Much like the sky is bluer, the storm clouds are darker and more ominous in Colorado. The wind carried the darkness over the house. The mountains which are so clear from our deck were gone. The light hid them, so you couldn’t tell where they started and the storm clouds began.

But as quick as it came, the bright blue punched through the mass. The mountains fought to reappear, and the cloud retreated to the east. Within minutes, the storm's only tracks were the wet road.

I love watching storms roll in, and then slowly dissipate. But here, if you blink, you miss it.

Our annual McD's feast

Last night Tyler and I ate our annual meal at McDonald’s. This started about four years ago when we drove by the golden arches late one night and decided we REALLY wanted some McNuggets.

I think everyone secretly likes the quintessential fast food chain. Sure people say how bad the food is for you, but not many people will turn down fries if they’re offered some.

At the drive-thru we ordered our feast: one double cheeseburger, two cheeseburgers, 10-piece McNuggets with sweet and sour sauce, and fries. We brought the food back to our place and laid the food on the table.

And it was glorious! I love how the burgers are practically smashed flat, then you take a bite of the patty with melty American cheese and minced onions — all accented by ketchup and mustard. The best part is when you reach the center of the cheeseburger because your reward is the two slices of pickle waiting for you.

After polishing off our burgers and fries, we devoured the McNuggets. These are Tyler’s absolute favorite. He said there’s something delicious about left over chicken parts, which are ground up and fried, that make him look forward to our annual Mickey D’s meal.

But the next morning always reminds us why we only eat there once a year.

Camping by Holy Cross

We went camping with Logan and Tracy last weekend. Our time was spent eating, drinking, hiking and playing lots of eXtreme croquet. I don't have any pictures of us playing croquet — mainly because I was concentrating so hard on finishing each of the courses we set up. Here are the pictures I did take though.

And I don't know what Logan and Tyler are doing in the above photo...

Off to the home and motherland

Tyler and I spent our two week vacation traveling to my home town Homer (but really Anchor Point) and then visiting Bellingham for the second week.

In my homeland, Tyler got the full Sara Thompson experience: hanging out in Anchor Point with the family, clam digging, town laps, the fermentation tour, adult softball and meeting all of my goofy, wonderful friends that I haven't seen in years. I don't think I scared him off because he said he wants to spend a summer up there sometime. Here are some pictures from the Alaska part of the trip.



After a week we were off to Bellingham. We participated in the 100th Ski to Sea relay, but our team Tippy Canoe and Tyler 2 disqualified for the second time in three years. (Eric told the story of our first DQ in last years blog post, and then I posted our results with our only finish on record.)

Here's the short version of what happened:

We DQ'd BUT the canoe leg still finished first in our division and 31st out of 500 teams overall.

Now the longer(ish) version:

It was my fault AGAIN (my new nickname is DQ Hansen, and the proposed team name next year is DQ'd Canoe and Tyler 2). We were wearing the wrong life jackets and were pulled from the race after the third river bend. The race Web site still says that we finished the canoe leg in record time. I am taking this opportunity to announce my retirement, and I will not be participating in the canoe leg in the future.

Other than the race mishap, we had a great time visiting with all of our friends. The weather cooperated with us, and we went for a nice sail on Steve's birthday. All in all it was a great trip in Bellingham.

Return to Moab

On Thursday morning we woke up to find snow on the ground, and no signs of the storm letting up. So we decided to load up the dogs and head down to Moab to find some sun. We spent our time playing cribbage, tossing the Frisbee around and playing the guitar. All in all, it was nice to enjoy the warm desert air. Here is the visual documentation.

Crazy dog person

I’m a crazy dog person. I didn’t realize how often I narrate the inner monologues of my dogs. I verbalize Moses’ thoughts the most because he “expresses” himself more than Aspen, and he can be a pain in the ass. He’s a very vocal dog, to put in mildly.

Aspen’s thoughts aren’t as interesting, since I’ve deciphered she only has three things on her mind: food, ball and walk. Food takes up 75 percent of her thoughts, so that’s not as fun to comment on.

Moses, on the other hand, has all sorts of issues going on. He’ll want food, need to go out, wants you to get off the couch, sometimes wants both of us on the couch so he can snuggle with us, can’t find his bone, etc. Kent sums it up as “just being a douchebag.”

So what it all comes down to is that I frequently verbalize the inner workings of a douchebag. If that doesn’t make me crazy, I don’t know what does.

Marriage

Right after we got married, all of our friends asked me if the relationship changed. I would usually reply with a smart-ass comment, such as “Well now we file our taxes together.”

Change usually has a bad connotation when describing a relationship. You don’t want things to change because you love each other, and you don’t want anything to disrupt that. I knew there wouldn’t be any surprises because we’d lived together for almost four years. In that time, we’ve moved together multiple times, raised two dumb dogs and worked together at different restaurants.

Nothing has changed, ultimately. We’re still just two goofy souls sharing a life together, so the core of us is still the same. But since we were married, our relationship has evolved. I just started noticing all our lifestyle alterations recently.

It’s the small things that come up. Such as shopping for groceries and deciding that we should eat healthier, and then reluctantly put back all the crackers and chips in exchange for fruit and vegetable snacks. Taking vitamins in the morning, encouraging each other to exercise and doing yoga every other day. Or talking about canceling the cable because we could be spending our time more productively — plus it will save money (and with instant Netflix, and the Internet you can get by without it anyway).

And you can tell Tyler wants to take care of the household. Every week he sits down and makes sure we’re sticking to our budget, saving enough money and that all of our bills are paid for. This is a far cry from the boy who used to not want to monitor his spending because it would stop him from living in the moment.

None of this actually struck me as an evolution of our relationship until he picked up his guitar a couple weeks ago. When we come home from work I’ll pour myself a glass of wine, he’ll have a beer and he’ll practice a new song he’s trying to learn. I’ll sing along and tap my foot to help him keep the right tempo. He’s even teaching me to play a song right now.

Seeing the guitar permanently stored in our living room reminded me of seeing Steve’s guitar propped up with sheet music in the office. Just like his dad, he is constantly learning how to do something else. I’m sure sometime down the road he’ll want to learn how to build a dinghy too.

So I’m loving evolving with one another. We already aren’t the same people we were a year ago, and when the next decade passes it will be interesting to see who we are individually and as a couple.

I think it’s safe to say we won’t have any record deals in our future though.

Knife sharpener

Tyler brought home a knife sharpener from work last night. We’ve been smashing tomatoes, and other delicate produce for some time, and I wanted to enjoy a sandwich with more than just tomato skins.

I don’t know how to sharpen knives. My dad used to take all of the kitchen knives downstairs, set up the wet stone on the reach-in freezer, and methodically sharpen them all on a regular basis. The front door of my room opens to this spot in my parents home.

Sometimes I’d be in my room reading, listening to music, or doing my high school homework when he’d start his TLC for the knives. I’d usually embrace this distraction from my high school studies, lean against my door frame and blather with him for a bit.

“You know, you’ll have to get yourself your own a knife sharpener someday,” he told me.

I told him that I probably didn’t need a lot of kitchen knives in my dorm room for the coming fall, so I could probably do without a sharpener for a while.

He sighed.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said.

I didn’t get right away what he was saying. I just let the comment pass and continued on with the conversation by taking it in a different direction.

But now watching Tyler set up the sharpening stone, placing the knives next to it, and hearing that steady scrape improve the blades one stroke at a time — I understand what my dad was trying to tell back then.

I’m happy to have my own knife sharpener.

Moab

To get away from the winter weather, Tyler and I packed up the dogs and took a camping trip. Instead of heading immediately west to the warm weather in Moab, we decided to check out Gunnison National Forest. We didn't want to be around a lot of people (Moab was site host for Jeep Week), so we decided to brave the chances of a camp site being thawed out already.

We found a spot down a Forest Service Road outside the mining town Somerset — which is along 133. We had the river right next to our campsite, a nice fire, and plenty of space for the dogs to explore. It was so nice we thought we'd stay there the whole time.

I woke up to raindrops hitting the tent. When we finally worked up the courage to leave the warm shelter — mostly because we had to relieve ourselves — we discovered that it was sleeting, so our tent was covered with snow. For the record, Tyler can move pretty fast in the early hours of the morning with the right kind of motivation.We threw everything in the back of the truck and took off to Moab to dry off.

We stopped in Delta to repack, and grab a hot breakfast at the Stockyard. Did you know Delta is the city of murals? At least two buildings on every block along main street have a mural painted on the side.

When we arrived in Moab, the first thing we did was set up the tent, and in less than 45 minutes all of our stuff was dry.

After setting up camp, we took a long walk down the road to check everything out since I had never camped there before. Here are some pictures from our hike.

Later on we cooked some burgers for dinner. We were a little overzealous with the amount of toppings, so once you wrapped your hands around the burger, there was no setting it down again. It's always amazing how great simple food tastes when you've been camping. Tyler declared our burgers the best camping burgers ever. Here are some pictures showing his excitement.

The next morning we picked up and headed back home to winter. Hopefully summer will decided to join is here in the Vail Valley sooner than later.

A cold blooded killer

Moses says hello to a cat

For those of you who’ve met Moses know he is all talk. His ferocious bark combined with his size makes him look intimidating to any potential intruders, but once you offer him love he melts like butter.

So you can imagine my surprise when he tried to kill something yesterday.

We were walking on the trail by our home, when he began sniffing furiously around in the snow. A vole suddenly popped out of the snow and began scurrying across the winter landscape. Usually when a similar circumstance has arose, Moses tilts his head with curiosity and passively follows the unidentified critter around. Whether it was ants, bees, squirrels or chipmunks, he just wanted to say hello and figure out what he was encountering.

I thought this would play out the same way as always, but this time he wanted something more.

All of the sudden he pounced after the vole and actually caught it! Moses is a lot of things, but coordination is not traditionally associated with him. I heard the vole squeal and I knew its life was probably close to over within a matter of seconds. Miraculously when I commanded Moses to drop the rodent, he did.

But then Aspen finished the job.

Did I mention I don't like heights?

Standing on top of the world’s highest suspension bridge, I suddenly realized I was scared of heights. At 1,053 feet above the Royal Gorge, I could see the Arkansas river flowing under me through the cracks in the wood planks. The old boards creaked a little too much for my liking, and I began picturing the scene from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where Thuggee cult members fall to their deaths after Dr. Jones compromises the structural integrity of the bridge.

Your all probably wondering how I got into this situation. Tyler and I were sitting at Gohan-Ya, which is the Asian noodle place by our house, and decided we should get out of town for our weekend. After lunch, I packed and he found a place for us to visit. We took off for Cañon City soon after.

When we arrived, we had dinner at small french restaurant called Le Petit Chablis. It was in an old house, and the menu was written on a chalkboard because it changed everyday. The Chef Daniel Petit (who was from Chablis) came out and explained the menu to us. We had a wonderful meal, and were ready to conquer any adventures awaiting us the next day.

Or so I thought.

In the morning we drove to the Royal Gorge Bridge and Park to check out the scenic wonder. After debating the price of admission, we paid the old park ranger and went on in. It was shortly after this that I decided I didn’t want to walk any further across the bridge, and insisted Tyler go on without me.

At first he thought I was joking, probably because it was April Fool’s Day and all — but then he saw the look of panic spreading across my face.

“Come on, you’ll be a stronger person for doing this,” he said.

Like a good husband, he held my hand the whole time we were on the bridge — even though my palm was as sweaty as a seventh grader on a first date.

After letting my heart rate return to normal, we took the incline railway to the bottom of the gorge to look up at the bridge. I appreciated this view a lot more, probably because I had time to check things out without an overwhelming knot in my stomach.

But more importantly, we had an Amish sighting! There were three families altogether, and Tyler and I wondered how they got there. We didn’t pass any horse and buggies on the way to the park, or see any in the parking lot.

Upon further investigation, I found that the Amish do travel by bus, train or vans driven by others to go on vacation. They use cars, but do not own them, because that would disrupt their social structure. Since only wealthy individuals could afford a car, it would bring inequality to their community.

We then left the park, and meandered our way back up to Vail, stopping in Salida for lunch. We found an awesome pizza place and brewery called Amicas. We will definitely be stopping there again to fill up our growlers and grab some grub.

Another Grandma shout-out

Since I can't be at my Grandma's service today, here's the eulogy I wrote for the pastor to read. Dad put me in charge of writing it on behalf of the family:

Throughout Mary's life, she evolved into each new phase with enthusiasm. From her childhood days in Egypt, going to college in Ohio, becoming a mother, and finally moving to Alaska with her husband Jim and their children. She continued to change with life because she loved being a part of it, and her family's lives. When Mary's daughter Carol was young, and she tried to help her daughter zip up her coat, Carol would stop her and say "my do myself."

That became Mary's mantra.

She jumped into grandmotherhood with all her "my do myself" zeal. Lending her helpful hand as her grandchildren's babysitter. In her rookie year she took her granddaughter Sara to watch Carol compete in a triathlon in Wasilla. While making a quick trip to the car to restock on toys and diapers, Mary had given Sara the car keys to play with. After she set her grandchild down in the car seat, she shut the car door for just a moment. When she went to open the door again, she discovered she accidentally locked the car, and Sara still had the keys in her hands — smiling and giggling with her new toy. Mary quickly went into a building to call a locksmith, and when she returned to the car, the smiling baby now had started screaming and crying. To cheer up her granddaughter until the locksmith arrived, Mary danced and sang like a "batty old woman" in the parking lot to make her Sara happy.

She embraced her battiness by following her grandchildren through all their make-believe adventures. If they needed to travel like Fivel to America, she'd ready the sails; if Pinocchio needed to escape from Pleasure Island, she helped map the way out. When plans were being made for a treehouse, Mary wanted to make sure she could climb up to the tree tops too. Rick had to take over the treehouse blueprints in order to ensure the structures integrity.

For a short while, Mary lived in Anchor Point at Rick and Sharon's home. In order for Sharon to complete her teaching certification, she needed to finish her last semester in Anchorage. So Mary came to help Rick with the kids, packing their lunches and sending the young ones off to school in the morning. She'd walk down to the bus stop to greet Sara and Zack in the afternoon, and then they'd wander home and cook dinner together. One night, Zack tried to help clean up by putting ketchup — his favorite condiment — back in the fridge. A 6-year-old boy can only pay so much attention to detail, so a precariously balanced Heinz ketchup can look the same as a well-placed bottle. Mary went to put the rest of the leftovers away, but found a falling condiment container instead. The ketchup explosion became legendary with her grandchildren — some tales told of a the whole kitchen being painted red that evening. After Sharon returned home, and was doing a little spring cleaning, she even found ketchup splatter on top of the kitchen cupboards.

Mary always made sure her family felt welcome in her home. Pop-ins were not just welcomed, but encouraged. Zack would stop in after basketball practice with a gallon of milk and a box of cereal, then fill up a bowl and start chatting about his day. If she wasn't there, he'd eat and leave the bowl in the sink to let her know he stopped by. When Carol would come for a visit, Mary would direct either Zack or Sara to wrestle the spare twin mattress up from storage to be set up in her apartment. And in her mouse house at assisted living, she insisted on owning a love seat with a twin sleeper sofa tucked away inside — always ready to accommodate those stopping by.

And she felt at home wherever her family was. Whether it was here, Anchor Point, Palmer, Seattle, or Bellingham. At her granddaughter's wedding, Mary enjoyed all of the festivities —zooming around on her walker and talking with all the friends and family that were there. The mornings were filled with food, conversation and talk about activities for the day. She fit right in, even though she thought she was stealthy at moving from room to room. In preparation for the big day, she tailored her own dress for the occasion. She didn't move as fast as she used to, but she still could give the younger generation a run for their money.

Toward the end, life had changed a lot for her. Carol said it best in a letter to her mother: "I'm glad you have chosen to go on with life and change with it, and not just crawl in a hole and hide." Until the very end, Mary continued to change and adapt to her surroundings, never satisfied if she could make it better for her and her family.

My Grandma

I was wearing her earrings when I heard. The diamond earrings the jeweler set from her engagement ring. My Grandma gave them to me on my 18th birthday, because she said every young lady needs a pair of diamond earrings — especially if it were her birthstone.

I only wore those earrings on two occasions: my senior prom, and for my wedding. She always said she liked the way they sparkled on my ears.

When she went into the hospital on Wednesday night, I felt compelled to wear them. I wanted a part of her with me somehow. This wasn’t her regular tune-up she had done when her blood sugar crashed.

Part of me didn’t think this day would come. If any of you ever wonder where my stubborn nature comes from, you don’t need to look any further down the family tree than my Grandma. She climbed into our tree house when all the adults thought it was a bad idea, she jumped into a boat because she didn’t want to wait for a foot stool and broke her leg at 65, and refused to ask for help most of the time. Tyler joked that this behavior was what he had to look forward to when I got older.

But all of that made her a strong woman who I looked up to. She spent much of her childhood in Egypt, earned her math degree and taught, and then moved to Alaska with her husband and three kids when the Al-Can Highway was gravel.

Around 4 a.m. (2 a.m. Alaska time) my mother called me. Grandma past on.

It’s always hard, even when you know it’s coming. There’s something about the finality of it all that’s hard to deal with. Maybe it’s just waking up and knowing for the first time in your life that someone isn’t there.

I love you Grandma, and I’ll miss you.

The Hansen mobile

The search is over: we bought a truck.

Many of you might know this story, but for those who don’t I’ll fill you in. We’ve been through three cars since the Pathfinder met its demise last year.

Car 1: The Subaru we owned for about three weeks. It couldn’t tow our belongings out to Vail, so we sold it to Steve and Karen the day we left Bellingham.

Car 2: The Dodge Dakota we bought from Roger the day we left Bellingham. It got us out here, but when winter started falling the two-wheel-drive truck wasn’t great in the snow.

Car 3: The Land Rover. We bought it for $500 so we could have a vehicle that wouldn’t get stuck driving around town.

The car saga became Tyler’s obsession, so last Thursday we decided to end the madness. We drove down to Denver and managed to find a GMC Sierra that should last us for a long time. I’m happy to only have one vehicle again, and to have my husband’s sanity back.

In response to my buddy

After reading Liz’s blog post “Masters in Indecision” (she’s great with headlines), I started thinking about my own growth. Like Liz, I did not like school that much, and was more than happy to be done. I do think I graduated with a useful degree, but the field I thought I loved turned out to be something else entirely.

I just started loving writing again, something that took me more than a year to get back. It’s hard to reinstate a former discipline when you’ve gone without it for so long — much like getting back in shape. The first two weeks are always the hardest.

But it’s like an old friend: very familiar, comforting and always there. Similar to a friendship, it takes a lot of work and effort to remain intact. And I need to put more effort in so that it doesn’t slip away and become a memory of something I used to do. I need to start making writing something more than my early morning routine before I go to work.

That means drafting query letters, sending in submissions and dealing with a lot of rejection for a while. And after enough casts, something will bite. It did for my friend Jeremy, and he’s already talking about his next project.

The last book I read also gave me some encouragement:

“As to why anyone embarks on the adventure of writing, which is that you write in order to find out not so much who you are as who you are becoming.” - Bernard-Henri Levy citing Michel Foucault’s idea in Public Enemies

I guess I see where this all takes me.

Who am I? Thoughts by an Aries: Part Deux

Reader alert: If you haven’t read my January 14 entry, this might be picking up in the middle of my astrological crisis.

In April 2003, my friend Amber and I organized a trip up to Soldotna to go to the only tattoo place we knew of on the Kenai Peninsula. We were both going to get Aries tattoos. It had been the same plan we discussed all year long in weight training.

Now Amber and I are different people. We both grew up in Anchor Point (AP for life!), but have taken different paths in our lives. She became a vegan as a freshman in college, but I still embraced cheese and other animal products. She has two beautiful children, lives on the East Coast, has a garden, and is a very talented artist (here’s a link to her Esty site).

As you all know, I love meat, enjoy my dogs and grow only the plants that can fit in our apartment. And I don’t think anyone would want to buy any of my creations on the Internet.
But Amber and I have known each other since kindergarten, and that goes a long way. Especially because (at the time) we were both Aries too.

When we arrived at the tattoo parlor, I went first. Amber was still sketching out what she wanted, and I already had brought diagrams with me. My high school boyfriend Marcus went with us, and so did Amber’s best friend Angela. Afterward, we went and ate dinner at a Chinese restaurant that had an orca painted on the outside of the building.

The next day at school, we’d make sure to keep our tats covered with lotion so they’d heal properly. Amber always said that “tats love the Lubriderm.”

After high school, Amber and I haven’t seen much of each other — unless we visited home at the same time and happened to run into each. We are both enjoying our lives, and the different paths we are led down.

So my tattoo isn’t about my astrological symbol — it represents my memories with an old friend that I don’t see very often. Much like my frog tattoo that I got with Nyla, who I don’t see nearly enough.

I’d like to think my silly vegan friend thinks the same thing.

Who am I? Thoughts by an Aries

There’s been a lot of hubbub around the latest news of the zodiac signs changing from a study done by the Minnesota Planetarium Society. Apparently the modern zodiac is wrong because the moon’s gravity has caused Earth’s axis to alter, which changes the position of the stars in the sky. Now all hell has broken loose: A former Virgo could now be a Leo, and now a would-be Capricorn could be a Ophiuchus — which I’m not even going to get into.

But that’s not really the issue at hand. I have a bigger problem that I share with many others who embraced their 18-year-old legal freedom too soon: I have an Aries tattoo.

At the time I thought I was getting something that stood for who I am, or should I say how I envisioned myself. As an Aries, my symbol is the ram. I am a warrior ruled by Mars with my element being fire. I am impatient, assertive, honest and willing to accept any challenge.

Now I find I could possibly be a Pisces: a fish that’s ruled by Jupiter and Neptune, with my element being water. I’m supposed to be peaceful, religious, co-dependant, a follower and tend to escape into a fantasy world.

You can’t get much different than that.

Now I could choose to adopt the Western astrologers defense to why the signs haven’t changed (which is that Western dates are based off of the solstices and equinoxes, so the zodiac dates don’t change), or I could do some soul searching to figure out what this all means to me.

I’ll admit, it would be easy to shrug off this debate, but I’m curious to find out if knowing the characteristics of my sign at a young age made me want to aspire to the description. Hence the reason for my tattoo on my left shoulder blade.

So stay tuned for my next entry. Will it be “I am Sara, Aries,” or “Stupid Pisces with Aries Tattoo”? Find out next time on Hansen Hodgepodge!

Now that's a bloody mary...