Missouri Lakes

We decided to hike up to Missouri Lakes, which is in the Holy Cross Wilderness. The dogs were training for our backpacking trip by sporting their super cool saddlebags. Tyler and I want to hike a Fourteener in the next few weeks, and we want to backpack in first. With this hot weather, the the whole pack was happy to follow a stream the whole way up, and take a dip in the lake at the top.

Personal finance

I think we’re getting older.

Today we were talking about moving in October, but the phrases “good jobs,” “unknown,” “our savings,” and “fiscal responsibility,” kept working their way into the conversation.

We’ve had these same conversations before when we moved to Tahoe, back to Bellingham, and then to Vail. But never before have financial responsibilities been the core of the debate. Usually we outweigh those cons with our young and care-free attitude. “We’ll be alright,” we say to each other. “We work hard, so we’ll be okay.”

But those days seem to be fading. The confidence we have isn’t as strong as it used to be for one reason: we have good jobs already. The repercussions for a poorly planned move seem more drastic than they used too — or maybe we are just fully realizing them for the first time.

Since we do have good jobs, it’s scary to think that we could be broke again. With our 30s approaching, starting over on the pay scale isn’t as fun and adventurous as it once seemed to be. The unknown is now scary, instead of being a place of endless possibilities.

But this is how people get stuck: financial security. I can keep doing what I’m doing and I’ll make good money, but it doesn’t mean I’ll be fulfilled. I don’t want to be become a crusty curmudgeon looking forward to an off-season vacation as my only reward.

You wouldn't like me when I'm crusty.

Grocery store and a body shop

The other day we stopped at Safeway before going to work. As we pulled into the parking spot, a man in a silver SUV pulled behind us and started yelling at Tyler.

When I got out of the car, all I could hear was the man talking fast and pointing at the dent in the side of the truck. He asked how it happened, and I guiltily replied "The wife happened."

Flashback: Last summer, I pulled the truck out of Tyler's parking spot at work. I took the corner too closely, and dented our new-to-us truck. The evidence was streaked across the side in yellow paint — the same hue of the pillars in his parking garage.

Back to present day: The guy points to my destruction and says for $250 he can fix it in 15 minutes while we are shopping. Tyler said we can't afford that, and attempts to walk away. In desperation, the guy comes back with his final offer.

"$100, please I need the work," he says.

Sold! The body shop we had went to before had told us it would be a $1,200 fix (to make it look like nothing happened of course). So Tyler agreed. When we got done shopping, the guy had made the dent 84% better, and thanked us for the work. He drove away trolling for his next customer, with his SUV that had an On the Spot Body Shop sign magnetized to the door.

I never knew you could be randomly descended upon by auto body specialist.

Adapting to orchids

Recently I’ve become obsessed with orchids. In February, Tyler bought me an orchid (shown above) as a not-a-Valentine’s-Day-gift. I debated getting one for a long time, just because of how temperamental they are. Also, many orchids are intergeneric, meaning they are products of cross-breeding by man. The theory is cross-breeding will make it easier for people like me to keep them alive by making the orchids stronger. But through my research, this makes it hard to figure out how to make them bloom again. So far, I think the above picture is a odontoglossum/oncindium hybrid.
Whatever that means.

We then decided it was a good idea to get another orchid (look to your right). This one I've identified as a brassia/odontoglossum hybrid. I think this one might not make it. It stopped blooming right away, and I found out it might take up to 10 months for it to bloom again. Yeah.

I know I must be sounding like Meryl Streep from Adaptation right about now, and I am aware of it. Don't worry — I have no desire to see a Ghost Orchid, become addicted to the drugs you can harvest from it, or have an affair with an orchid thief. That would take entirely too much effort, plus I'd end up killing the orchids I already have.

And if two orchids weren't enough, we got a third (below)! But I love this one. My phalaenopsis — the moth orchid. This one is supposed to be the perfect first-orchid. So far, this one likes me the best, whereas the other two act like rebelling teenagers. 

Now I know why all the Web sites recommended it for people like me. It's still blooming, and very forgiving of my ignorance. I still am planning on getting a book on orchids, and possibly becoming a crazy orchid lady as I grow older. At least the weird habit will smell a lot better than collecting all the stray cats in the neighborhood. And because life imitates art — or is it art imitates life? I will leave you with my favorite clip for Adaptation: