Happy Thanksgiving

We have a lot to be thankful for this year. Not that we haven't been previous years, but I don't think so much has happened in such a short amount of time. In less than five months, we've bought a house and will sign the papers for a restaurant next week. I finally feel like we are home, but we couldn't have done it by ourselves.

To our families — without your love and support through all of our moves, we wouldn't be here today. From helping us financially, unloading boxes, or cleaning our apartment to get the deposit back, you've always been there even though we were moving farther away from you.

To our friends — I wish I could see you more. I'm lucky to be friends with incredibly funny people (even though most people find our humor highly inappropriate). I miss laughing like that on a daily basis. Whether it was turkeys flying over Costa Rica, turkeys being thrown on the floor, or everything else that doesn't involve turkeys, I miss you guys.

To our coworkers — I am thankful for the coworkers who have become my family over the years. I know without my restaurant families I wouldn't feel ready to take this on. Everyone who worked with made me feel at home taught me more about the business.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone and I hope I can see you all sooner rather than later.

Goodbye, Beulah

Beulah at our wedding in 2010.

Note: I started writing this a couple weeks before she passed away at 6 a.m. on Oct. 22. I kept hoping that she'd stick it to the doctors and surprise us all.

Normally after working a wedding the night before, I’m exhausted. It’s the only time I can ever sleep in.

But not today. I didn’t need an alarm to make sure I was on the road by 9 a.m. My body already knew.

I called my brother to let him know I was on my way, and that I would be on time to the hospital right outside Portland. I had coordinated the trip with him earlier, primarily because I knew I wasn’t strong enough to do it on my own. I needed him there to make sure I kept it together.

The rain came down. Four hours of the fast, constant rhythm of the windshield wipers keeping time with the mile posts as they went by. As I drove closer to my destination, I started to panic. This was my goodbye, most likely. The final time I’d get to see her.

She was weak. Her breath short. Raspy words floated lightly in the air. Still ornery, but very weak. This was the woman who showed me the coffee cup and liquor trick at my aunt’s wake; who taught me how to slurp spaghetti; who never, ever stole a single point from me in cribbage; whose infectious laugh around the campfire let you know you were in for an awesome, hilarious time; who I consider to be my family. And there she was: tiny, defenseless against the cancer wreaking havoc inside her. And extremely angry at the doctors for not letting her nurse her pain away with some brandy.

Beulah might was well be called my other grandmother. When I was little, she would stay in a trailer on our property during the summer. When I was 3 years old, I would drag my little brother over there to visit her. As got I older, she stopped coming up and stayed in Washington. We’d visit her, and go on all sorts of camping adventures to Long Beach, or we’d hang out by her property in Woodland that was on the lake. With all of her grandkids around, we felt like one of them, accepting swimming challenges across the lake, combating one another in croquet, and playing hide-and-seek in the dark while camping.

I’ve lost people before, but never made the trip to actually say goodbye — to know that was the last time I’d ever see them. My aunt’s death came too soon, and my grandmothers were too far away to go visit. I’ve had the luxury of not dealing with that final goodbye, and experiencing that last time you’ll ever be with someone. I’ve dealt with the loss, and knew that it was coming, but never had I tried to face it bravely. Distance had always saved me before, but now that excuse was gone.

When I left her hospital room I lost it. My brother walked with his arm around me, saying it was OK, and Mikayla was their supporting us both. I was in a daze the whole drive back up — breaking down between DJs clinging to summer singles like"Blurred Lines" by Robin Thicke, and "Get Lucky" by Daft Punk. I'd snap back to the present and realize I was in a traffic jam, or that I'd made it to the ferry.

Beulah died some weeks later. None of us were supposed to be surprised, but there's still a little piece of you that thought maybe she could be the exception. If anyone was stubborn enough to prove everyone wrong, it was her. To sum up losing her, all I need to do is quote my brother: "It sucks."

Chez Rockwood

As many of you know, Tyler and I have moved to Whidbey Island. Between the time he was offered the executive chef job at Captain Whideby Inn and our recent departure, only three weeks passed. Now I'm living in a trailer down by the beach.

Chez Rockwood is an excellent little home — larger than what we were expecting, but small enough to motivate the permanent home search. I can honestly say I didn't think I'd be living in a RV Park anytime soon, but that's what makes life fun and exciting.

When you buy an old, inexpensive pop-up trailer, there's bound to be a few problems. So far the trap under the sink is cracked, we've found a a few drafty holes in the canvas, but overall the recreational unit is in pretty good shape. I can't seem to figure what's wrong with the propane pressure for the indoor stove, but at least I have my trusty Coleman to come to my rescue.

And the dogs are adapting surprisingly well to the new lifestyle. Moses has identified his sleeping areas, and Aspen loves the proximity to all of the food. And a hike to the beach everyday probably doesn't hurt either. Ted, our Beta fish, is in his own little world.

I must apologize for this poorly written post. Today was Tyler's first day of work. He left at 8:15 a.m. this morning (they start lunch at noon) and won't be home until late. At least I have free wifi to distract until he comes home.

Camping get-together

Since the weather was supposed to improve on Sunday, we thought we'd go camping. We decided to go close by so we could maximize our camping time. I got cut from work early on Sunday evening, so we headed out to the site and made plans for everyone to meet up with us the next day.

On Friday morning, I awoke and made a sign to indicate which campsite we were at. That way it was easy for the joiners to spot. As you can see, Moses also helped with the signage.

And then one amazing thing happened: Everyone actually showed up. No one flaked out, they all found the campsite, and we had an awesome time. We played dangle balls, croquet, threw a tomahawk, roasted some chickens over the campfire, and played Cards Against Humanity.

Below are a couple of pictures and a video — I didn't have that many pictures because my battery was dying.

Preparing for the feast of the chickens.

Tyler took this one.

Sandals and snow

Tyler taking refuge on a stump.

Since the restaurant is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays during the off-season, all of the coworkers are able to organize outings and barbecues very easily that accommodate every schedule. We all decided to go out for a hike on East Lake Creek Trail.

There were six of us that embarked on this journey: Tyler, me, Mel, Sebastian, Travis and Rachael. We even had a pack of five dogs: Aspen, Moses, Maggie, Tyson and Boston. All together we were quite the large posse making our way down the trail.

Now I've lived in the mountains for a few years, and I should've known better than to wear sandals. But the weather had been so nice, and all the immediate trails by my house have been clear for weeks, that I didn't think that this trail might have some snow still on it. I wasn't the only one who fell into this realm of comfortable footwear. My husband showed up in his flip-flops and Mel wore her Keen sandals. The rest of our group was much wiser than were were.

After a little ways down the trail, Mel turned back because she was sick of hiking in the snow. I wasn't ready to admit defeat. I can be pretty stubborn when I want to, and I didn't want to give up just because I was a dumb ass. Even though my toes were bright pink and stinging inside my Chacos, I forged ahead stupidly.

But when we began to lose the trail, and snow poling became more and more frequent, I had to throw in the towel. It was a valiant effort for the first big potential hike of the season, but alas I fell far short of success. Next time I'll just throw the damn hiking boots in the back of the truck.

Day 6

Greg passing around a refreshing beverage.

Because the restaurant had to be closed for repairs April 29 - May 7 we decided to take a road trip. The following posts are a daily log of our adventures.

For our finally dinner camping, Tyler had to go all out. We'd been carting around a delicious looking lamb loin since the beginning of our trip. To accompany the lamb loin, he'd also brought all the old parts from the failed spit attempt in mid-April. The plan was to use my old bike pedal to manually turn it once the coals were roasting.

Kent is so excited to roast the lamb.

But before that could happen, they had to shorten the center rod. All three of the boys (Tyler, Greg and Kent) took turns sawing off a chunk to make it fit the campfire sized rotisserie. Once they were satisfied with their apparatus (pictured above and below) they took a break to enjoy the warm Colorado air, and a few beers for their efforts.

But as usual, Tyler wasn't quite satisfied with the manual design. After all, it's been his dream to have it motorized. He went back to the truck and started pulling out tie-downs, zip-ties and his cordless DeWalt drill, and went about rigging it up to rotate the lamb once it was secured on. After figuring out the speed on which the drill should spin, the boys had to use the chainsaw to make custom-fit stands for the drill. They made a tall one and a short one, depending on how hot the coals were burning. With a few minor adjustments, Tyler had brought his motorized spit to life, and the coals were just getting hot enough to roast the lamb. It was time for the cooking to commence.

Kent watching burning logs turn into hot coals.

 After a couple of hours of rotating and basting itself in it's own fat, the lamb was ready to consume. We did have potatoes, rice and veggies to go along with the meal. The meat was tender, succulent, and everything we could want for our final dinner. We gathered around the fire, stuffed, and chatted until we could barely keep our eyes open. It'll be time to head home tomorrow. Tyler has to put in orders for the restaurant on Monday, and prep the day after that. The real world is calling, and we have to answer.


Below are some videos of the spit in action, and pictures of the tasty meat.

Day 5

Because the restaurant had to be closed for repairs April 29 - May 7 we decided to take a road trip. The following posts are a daily log of our adventures.

I do not have any photos to post with this entry for a few of reasons: 

1) It was a long day of driving.
2) There were more than a few wrong turns along the way.
3) I wanted to smash Tyler's and Kent's skulls together.

The morning started off great. We had a long day of driving in front of us, so we wanted to get an early start. At 9 a.m. exactly we rolled out of camp, and headed on down to Durango. 

The boys had been studying the Utah Gazetteer, and said that the road connected back to the highway south of us. They figured this would be a better route because a) we wouldn't have to back track, b) we thought a Subaru Outback had come that way so we figured it was a pretty easy road, and  c) we'd get to see something new. 

As we continued down the road, I realized how mistaken we were. It went down an old ravine, up a ledge, and then road became less and less road like. We stopped to get out and look around so the boys could analyze their next route. As they walked down, they kept saying they could make it, then would walk around another bend to see what that looked like. This pomp and circumstance continued for almost a mile. At this rate they were going to walk to the highway, so I said we should just turn around while we could. I did not want to get stuck back there with trucks, and figure out how to extract them from the unforgiving slick rock. Unless we had ATVs or Jeeps, we weren't going to make it this way with the trucks.

Even though I was voicing my opinion, they still could not hear me. Eventually Kent said we should turn around and explore this area on mountain bikes the next time we camped out this way. Thank goodness he said that, because Tyler quickly came to his senses and soon we were turning around. We had a few more wrong turns trying to find the road again, but our course was corrected. After a 1 1/2 hour delay, I was starting to get cranky.

They found another route we could take us to the highway south of town. I approved this course correction because the map said it was a road — a solid white line, not a dotted Jeep trail. Within two minutes of turning on it, we saw that the map had led us astray. It had lied to us, because if this was a road, no car could travel down it. We were in no mood to explore this possibility, so we immediately turned around and headed to Moab, down a road we knew was solid and would take us where we needed to go.

Once we arrived back in town, we stopped for a quick bite and were on our way to Durango. After about four hours of driving later, we headed up to Lemon Reservoir where Kent's friend Greg lives. We camped at the Florida (pronounced Flor-rye-duh) Campground, ate mac n' cheese, corn pone, and an awesome chili that Greg's wife Deb made for us. After a long day of driving, some food, beers and fire was all I needed to unwind.  

Day 4

Because the restaurant had to be closed for repairs April 29 - May 7 we decided to take a road trip. The following posts are a daily log of our adventures.

Upon returning to our old campsite, Kent and I were a little freaked out to see the same chair sitting in the same spot from the last time we were there. The only thing different is more rocks have been added to keep the chair in place. Why does someone want this chair to stay here? Is it a memorial for a guy who used to sit in it? All I knew is that in the dark, the chair looked creepy and I thought we shouldn't mess around with it. Kent agreed with me, so he left a little sip of bourbon to pay respect to whoever the chair might belong to.

Besides for the creepy chair, we had a nice relaxing day around the camp site: we took an exploratory walk down a few of the Jeep trails, I read my book while the boys went target shooting, and then reconvened for some snacks later.

The night before we had to move the fire to the rock wall to take shelter from the wind, and to throw back heat from the fire. The wind had finally died down that day, but we decided to keep the fire in the same place.

For dinner we decided to feast: steak, veggies with butter and herb rice. There is just something about chowing down on some medium rare beef while drinking beers next to an awesome fire in the middle of nowhere. We kept thinking that we'd have plenty of leftovers for the morning, but then all of the sudden the food was gone. At least every morsel was enjoyed, with the wonderful flavors still lingering on our taste buds.

A wonderful meal, a cozy fire and good company...what more could you want in life?

Day 3

Morning Glory Bridge

Because the restaurant had to be closed for repairs April 29 - May 7 we decided to take a road trip. The following posts are a daily log of our adventures.

Today we broke camp and heading out for a hike while Kent finished up some business in town. We stopped at Negro Bill Canyon to hike to Morning Glory Bridge — about 4.5 miles round-trip. It was a colder day in the desert at 65 degrees. Perfect for the dogs to make it there and back without any problems.

Trail to Morning Glory Bridge

Because of the storm the night before, a lot of the plant life was rejuvenated. A little rain had fallen during the night — not much, but enough — so all the plants could begin to bloom and bright green returned to their leaves. The trail followed the stream though the canyon so Aspen and Moses had plenty of water and places to cool off along the way. I'd never seen so many flowers in bloom at one time in the desert, and it was the first time I've seen a cactus flower in the wild. A little bit of rain sure goes a long way.

Cactus flowers

After the hike, we met up with Kent at the Peace Tree Cafe in town for a delicious lunch. We decided to head out Kane Creek to the spot we stayed at almost two years ago. The weather was supposed to be snowy and cold in Colorado, so we decided to hide in the desert for a few more nights. We filled up our water jugs, stocked up on some more ice and firewood, and headed down the 4x4 road to Dripping Springs. We'd seen a lot of people in town so we were also afraid that the camp spot might be taken.

Headed back to the trail head.

We did have a minor set-back on the way to camp — Kent didn't fasten down the rear hatch of his truck, so when he went over a large rock, it came loose, slowly opened and the beer cooler ejected from the bed. Beers and blocks of ice went flying, and we had to scramble to clean everything up. It was a good thing it was block ice, otherwise we would've had warm beer for the next few days. Shortly after we made it to our vacant spot, we quickly set up camp, and started a fire so we could grill up some burgers to satisfy out hungry bellies. Nothing too fancy, just a big kosher pickle and a cold dry beer to go along with it — plus a handful of Ruffles. Delicious.

Day 2

Because the restaurant had to be closed for repairs April 29 - May 7 we decided to take a road trip. The following posts are a daily log of our adventures. 

Tyler said the desert makes you feel small. You lose perspective on how large things are because you don't have trees, or any other familiar markers to give a scale to formations in the distance. All you know is that most of them are pretty damn big.

That's why I love going to the desert during the off-season. It makes me feel so miniscule compared to the rock formations. Not just in respect to size, but also time. Everything takes so much longer to grow. To think about the time it took to shape the rocks is amazing. As Red narrated in Shawshank: "Geology is the study of pressure and time. That's all it takes really, pressure, and time." Slowly forming through all of the harsh elements of heat, violent winds and the occasional rain.

 We actually had the pleasure of experiencing one of those factors: a dehydrated storm.
Of all the times I've gone to the desert, I've never been caught in one. Basically it's just what it says it is — a storm without moisture. The wind was relentless and would not stop throwing the fine sand particles around. Even after the rain fly had been fastened to the tent, red dust still was able to work itself inside and coat everything rust. It was a side of the desert I hadn't seen before. I've seen the harsh, unforgiving heat, but not the savage winds that ravage the landscape, slowly forging the sandstone into submission like a river flowing over rock. And the land fights to hold its ground, but it is no match for pressure and time.

Aspen and Tyler at sunset before the storm.

Day 1

Ruffles and cheap prosecco to start off the week-long camp trip.

Because the restaurant had to be closed for repairs April 29 - May 7 we decided to take a road trip. The following posts are a daily log of our adventures.


At 8:46 a.m. we had the truck packed up, and were on our way to pick up greasy, smashed ham and Swiss cheese croissant egg sandwiches for the road. Our successful departure time could be credited to our advanced and efficient planning that only left us the task of loading up the dogs and the coolers in the morning. All we needed was a bundle of firewood, ice and Kent.

Because we always have the best intentions to leave early, but rarely ever do, I should have known that we were off to a too-good start. After a few hitches with our errands and fetching, we were officially on the road by 10:15 a.m. Not bad, but far from the 9 a.m. start we had hoped to achieve.

Tyler planning out all of our possible course options.

I thought we were well on our way, with only a quick stop at Cabela's before reaching our destination for the day: Moab. Shame on me for thinking that errand could be short and sweet. It's so easy to get distracted by the amount of inventory the store holds. Kent had to return a few items, so Tyler and I got lost in the abyss of camping gear: cots, grills, water purifiers, percolators, etc. Everything caught our eye. I managed to navigate the boys past the Bargain Cave (a time killer I knew we couldn't afford) but failed to mush them past the Gun Library. As soon as I snared one, the other would break free of my attention. Eventually we navigated our way to the check-out line, but picked the slowest lady checker in the store. Soon we were on the road and headed to the desert.

Tyler makes a pizza pie.

We were starving when we entered Moab, so we stopped at Eddie McStiff's for a late lunch, and to change our plans once again. While eating a terrible meal, we decided to camp out Onion Creek (close to town) so Kent could get some work done the next day and still be able to camp. He had planned on getting a hotel, but camping sounded like a much more fun proposition. Plus I think he wanted to check out the latest ambitious meal in the Dutch oven: deep dish pizza.

I made the dough ahead of time so the whole process was incredibly easy. Tyler just pressed the dough after oiling the pan, then added pizza sauce, shredded mozzarella with pepperoni and we were ready to bake up our creation. We did have brauts along too just in case the whole thing burnt to a crisp.

As we waited, the night began to get "weird cold" — as described by Kent. Here is the definition I came up with: the permanent feeling of goosebumps but your body shows no signs of them. Your core is warm, but somehow your appendages are chilled. Nothing about the temperature suggests that it's cold, but for some reason your brain wants another layer of clothing. Weird cold. 

As we watched the Dutch oven smolder with coals, we hoped that our pizza would turn out. I was so hungry, that I probably would have eaten whatever failed burnt mess that was in there, but I was in luck. The pizza worked! There was some burning of the crust, and next time we need to use about half the dough — but it worked! And it was delicious. Even with the weird cold, the dinner was perfect, and so were the following beers around the fire. Day 1 was off to a fabulous start for the trip.

Pig Roast: Attempt #1

Matt and Tyler attempting to make due with manually rotating the pig.

For our end-of-the-season party, everyone from work gathered together to roast a pig, eat drink and be merry. Since Tyler decided to roast a pig for my brother's rehearsal dinner in August, this dinner was going to be the first test run of his homemade portable spit.

 Unfortunately things did not go according to plan. The old scooter he had planned to use for a rotisserie motor did not work out at all. You can see the remains of the failed attempt to your right. Between manually turning the pig every three minutes with ratcheting tie-downs, and the biggest snow dump we've seen all season, the project had to be aborted. The pig had to be cut in thirds and thrown into the oven to finish cooking. It wasn't a total failure — we learned a lot and at least the skin crisped up nicely on the spit.

Unfortunate chain reaction

It wasn’t his fault, but all of the sudden a cop was standing in front of him, issuing him a ticket at work. All he did was run drinks to a table a new co-worker had taken the order for. She hadn’t carded them, and he didn’t ask if she had because he trusted her. But since he physically served the drinks ordered by the ignorant, not TIPS certified employee — he was the one getting the ticket.

This happened to my friend last night at my former work place. I found out the news second hand. My friend who received the ticket has to be legally suspended from work. He faces a $5,000 fine, a fourth degree felony on his record, and could spend 18 months in jail. This doesn’t even begin to tackle the fine for the restaurant, which I think is about $20,000. More than just a drop in the bucket.
The stupid girl who took the drink order and had my friend run drinks to the table was not going to receive a ticket. My old boss came out, insisted that the cops give her a ticket since she started the unfortunate chain reaction. She ended up getting fired on the spot (plus a ticket), but my friend still has his job.

Now my friend is no spring chicken to the restaurant industry, and he has a long standing working relationship with my old boss. He’s been at the same restaurant for about five years, but has worked in the Vail Valley for longer. They’ve both worked together at other restaurants in the past. He is responsible, calm and collected when he’s in the weeds, and one of the most professional servers I’ve ever worked with. He actually is the one who trained me when I first got to town and started working there. When I was managing for the first time, he was such a help to me and an asset. I am incredibly upset that this happened to him, and I hope it will all turn out alright.

And the scary thing is it could happen to any server, host, sommelier, busser, bartender, manager, etc. in that situation. I was lucky the past two years to work with such a tight-knit crew, and know we had each others’ backs, and that I never had to worry about this before. Now that I’m in a new place, I don’t know if I have the same confidence as I used to.

At my old work they’ve started a collection to help my friend. Everyone is donating $20 each out of their tips to help pay for court fees, and if he does in fact get fines. I miss the camaraderie of my old crew so much — it was nice to be a part of something like that for a little while. So today I’m going in to the village early and dropping off my contribution. I’d like to think they’d so the same for me.

100,000 miles

When the truck hit 100,000 miles on the odometer, we had just passed Eagle bombing down eastbound I-70 on our way to Avalanche Ranch. We had been spending a lazy morning together at home, when he suddenly declared that we should do something fun that day. Within 45 minutes he’d booked a cabin at the hot springs, packed the dog and human bags, and loaded up the truck. All I did was take a shower and save a few episodes of This American Life for the road trip.

The mile-marker hit by the truck just represents only one of the many impromptu getaways that Tyler has put together rapidly over the years. My dad even told me once that the truck was perfect for our “get up and go” travel style. And this trip was no different.

Tyler’s been the romantic one in this relationship. When we first started dating, I told him I didn’t want to do anything to celebrate Valentine’s Day. He still insisted on taking me out on a non-Valentine’s dinner the day after. And now he’ll plan lovely trips for the two of us — sometimes over weeks, or minutes. One time we went for a hike outside of Glenwood Springs, then went to a beer dinner. While we were waiting for it to start, he disappeared and then came back with a key to a room at the Hotel Denver next door. Surprises are his strong suit, and we were headed on another one.

When we arrived at the hot springs, the place was pretty vacant — probably because most couples planned on staying there during Valentine’s Day weekend. We only saw a handful of people in the hot springs during the afternoon, and no one was out that night or in the morning. The cabin was cute and quaint with a fully equipped kitchen. He cooked lamb chops and veggies for dinner; we played cribbage; we soaked in the springs as much as we possibly could; we saw shooting stars and watched the night sky rotate; we talked about the present and future; we just spent time together and didn’t think about anything else.

I woke up early and sat at the cabin table drinking my morning coffee. Tyler slept soundly, as did Moses, while Aspen laid on my feet to keep my toes warm. The sun crept over the mountain tops, climbing in between the sunflower covered curtains. I didn’t want the trip to end, but the nagging feeling of getting back to work started to creep back into our lives. You can spontaneously escape for periods of time, but you always have to go back eventually. I woke him up, packed up the truck, took one more soak, and rolled on down the road.

Now that we’re back home, and the odometer reads 100,131 miles — I can’t help but think of all the places we’ve gone and where we will end up next. As for next weekend, we’ll be home just enjoying being together.

This is January

After the biter cold visited us not to long ago, that icy grasp of winter began to loosen and reveal an abnormally warm day in January. So unusual in fact, that we both had complete overdressed for the occasion. After stripping down to my basic layers, I was hiking in just a tank top and rolled up running pants, while Tyler had to suffer through with his heavy duty winter boots and capri style jeans. We made it through the balmy bluebird day, but so far there are no signs of winter returning anytime soon. You know it’s warm when you can hear snow melting when you get home at midnight, and there are still two and half months left to go before the mountain closes. Come on, snow...

Tape delay dissapointment

Tyler managed to make it home from work last night without finding out about his Broncos' devastating loss. He couldn't wait to sit down on the couch with a beer and cheer his team to victory.

I knew the score of the game and how it happened. I even had to record an additional hour because the regular 30 minute live recording extension wasn't enough time to document the playoff game. Knowing that his team was about to suffer a double over time loss for the second time in our living room that night almost made me leave the room.

The hardest part about games like this is not giving away the outcome. You can't sound too hopeful when commenting about the last play, or too negative. And then there's another strategy: fall asleep on the couch while he's watching the fourth quarter. It was 1 a.m. after all, so it's a completely legitimate maneuver.

When the kink in my neck woke me up, the game was over. You could see it by the look on his face. Almost eight hours after the original loss was written down in the books, the tape delay disappointment had finally made its way to our home.

But at least my Niners won.