A Return to Colorado: The Jet Boat Edition

It has been almost a year since we moved from Colorado. In some ways, it has become much easier but in others I’m still mourning it like a death in the family. When other people move on (and feeling like you should, too), you’re still stuck in the past.  My Facebook memories are an almost daily reminder of my kids’ magical childhood and I miss those days when our summers were fueled entirely by adventure and imagination.

When Bode and I Hadley were invited to attend Keystone Science School (KSS), I knew we had a plan a Colorado vacation around it. We would spend a few days in Denver with friends, drop the kids off at camp, Jamie and I would enjoy alone-time in Keystone and Crested Butte and we’d all reunite at The Broadmoor in Colorado Springs.

All was going to plan until Hadley broke her humerus  and we were in a predicament. She obviously couldn’t go to KSS because they were whitewater rafting, camping and horseback riding all week but if she came with Jamie and me, she’d be stuck in our condo because we had an equally active itinerary. Thankfully, Jamie’s sweet mom offered to take her despite the fact it was a very busy week as she helped her 90-year-old dad move into a care center. Thank goodness for Grandma!

Jet Boat Colorado

Bode, Jamie and I kicked off our Colorado adventure with Jet Boat Colorado. Actually, our adventure started well before we hit the water. Its location is in De Beque, a historic community nestled near the Roan Plateau. I calculated it was about the half-way mark of our drive from Midway to Denver but I should have Google mapped it because it was actually about 40 minutes past Grand Junction (the true half-way mark). I made this realization at about 1 hour before our 12 p.m. departure time and we were about 1.5 hours away.

Enter: Jamie “Mario Andretti” Johnson who put the pedal to the metal–driving at speeds up to 90 mph–and we miraculously arrived just a few minutes late.  Oh, and did I mention our gas was below empty and running on fumes? Another miracle: there was a gas station in De Beque, Colo.

I had never heard of jet boating until a friend went to New Zealand last year and posted a video of her 45 mph adventure through narrow canyons as their boat barely skirted the banks of the river. I never dreamed I would have the opportunity to try it out myself until I learned Jet Boat Colorado offers Coloradoans the same adrenaline-charged adventure as our Kiwi counterparts on a slice of the Colorado River.

I don’t yet have any pictures of our experience because cameras were strongly discouraged (you’ll see why in this video). Lots and lots of water…and laughter.

I’ve driven through this part of Colorado many times and had written it off as a barren wasteland but was fascinated to learn De Beque’s rich old west history with ferry sites, homestead stories and fascinating geology. At one point, as he pointed out two eagles’ nests with Mama Eagle and her very large “baby” standing sentry, it was confirmed to me this was an experience like no other and quite the “Welcome Home” party for Colorado.

But it only got better….

 

The Cookie Monster(s)

The now-extinct carrot cookies

Another one from the draft folder. 

If my family has an achilles heel, it’s my homemade cookies. What can I say? They’re just that good and I have mastered the art of making ‘em in Denver (trust, me, high-altitude baking is an art).

The problem is I can’t ever make enough–they’re gone in record time.

I make everything from gingerbread cookies to oatmeal to sugar to chocolate chip to Scotchies. Recently, I had a craving for my mom’s old-fashioned carrot cookies with orange butter cream so I found a recipe and made them. I was careful not to mention that they had carrots to the kids (you know, the whole cookies + veggies thing might not go over very well) and quite predictably, they ravaged them like wolves.

Not even 24 hours after I made them, the entire batch as gone. As I looked into the empty cookie jar, I dryly observed to Jamie:

“You people have a serious cookie problem.”

“Yeah, the problem is you don’t ever make enough of them.”

The man wants MEAT

As the story is told, recently after my Grandma and Grandpa Wilde were married, my grandma (who was an amazing cook) make them a robust salad for dinner. My grandpa, a hard-working farmer took one look at the ‘rabbit’ food and demanded, “WHERE’S THE MEAT, VIRGINIA?”

Without another word, he walked right out the door to his mother’s house for dinner.

She never made that mistake again.

I try to have meatless dinners at least once a week but I’m married to a meat man. The other night, I made Cuban black bean and cilantro rice bowls topped with Tomatillo salsa, avocados and onions.

I made the mistake of asking everyone what they thought.

“WHERE’S THE MEAT, AMBER?” jokingly (but not) demanded my husband. “I SWEAR, IF MY MOTHER LIVED NEARBY I’D GO TO HER HOUSE FOR DINNER RIGHT NOW.”

Apparently, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, even if they are your in-laws.

 

Love and Marriage: The Laundry Wars

This beauty from my draft folder is from a few years ago. Ahh, the memories!

In most ways, Jamie and I have a very traditional marriage. I take care of most household chores and the children. He works, pays the bills and quarterly taxes and raises freakishly large orange creatures.

Remember, I said MOST WAYS. 

I do the laundry. I hate doing laundry but when we were engaged, I saw how Jamie did laundry and I wanted no part in it (his method involved large heaps of clean clothes that were never put away all week long). Though I don’t claim to be the perfect laundress, my process involves washing, drying, folding and putting away the laundry on the same day. I’m also moderately obsessive about doing laundry when we’re on vacation (if possible) and can’t stand coming home with a suitcase full of dirty clothes.

Jamie, on the other hand, likes to mix his clean clothes with his dirty ones in his suitcase.

It’s like nails on the chalkboard, peeps.

I do laundry a couple of times a week so usually stay on top of things, for which Jamie is openly grateful. But the other day, he made an unusual request.

“Where is my Nike shirt?”

“Which Nike shirt?”

“My grey one. It’s not in my drawer.”

“Then it’s probably in the dirty laundry.”

He proceeded to dig through the laundry basket. “HERE IT IS. Why is it not washed?”

“Let’s see. It’s Thursday and I did the laundry on Monday. That means you must have worn it in the last two days.”

I am the master of deduction.

Jamie is picky about what he wears but for some reason, he was hell-bent on wearing that shirt. And this, my friends, is where another laundry pet peeve comes into play. On the rare occasion he does a load of laundry, he only washes his clothes and nobody else’s.

A few minutes later I walked into the laundry room to see he’d thrown a few of his shirts into the wash (another peeve: not running a full load).

“Jamie, do you see this pile of dirty clothes sitting by the washing machine? It would be swell if you’d put some of these other clothes in to wash as well.”

His response? “I don’t want that dirty stuff touching my stuff.”

Dude needs a lesson in airing dirty laundry.

What not to say to your self who’s been nursing a sick kid to health all week

From the draft folder, October 22, 2012. Some men never learn. 

Hadley has finally turned the corner from Strep and and fingers are crossed this particular plague has passed by without infecting the rest of us.

By Thursday, I was going out-of-my-mind with cabin fever, particularly since it was the last week before school and talk about a less-than-optimal way to spend it.

I blurted out to Jamie. “I am sooooo BORED!”

What men don’t understand is women need to vent and don’t necessarily need the problem fixed. Jamie offered a solution.

“You could try cleaning the house.”

Hap Hap Happenings

Our busy winter season is sadly winding down and I’ve been trying to hold on for as long as possible. Here are are few of our happenings:

  • All of our glorious snow is almost gone. In Ambruary. In the mountains, spring is replaced by a not-so glorious mud season before ushering summer. I’d mentally prepared myself for this in April in May but not in February. Winter, come back!
  • Jamie speaks my love language. For Valentine’s Day and our anniversary the following day, he took me hiking and to the Blue Boar Inn, a fine-dining restaurant in Midway. We also had our family’s traditional fondue on Valentine’s Day. Jamie and I vowed not to get each other gifts to save money and for once, we actually stuck to that resolution (as opposed to Christmas when we said the same thing and yet somehow ended up buying each other the exact same gifts–A Magic Bullet blender and the Jason Bourne movie). However, we did get each other cards where we wrote several things we love about each other but as it turns out, all cards are not equal and he bought one of those huuuuuge over-sized ones. That guy wins at everything, including love. 
  • Bode is winding down his third month of Nordic ski lessons at Soldier Hollow. With the dwindling snow totals, it makes parting less sorrowful but I have truly loved volunteering with his class twice a week. I learned to skate ski and once I get my knee problems fixed, I can’t wait to do it again. He is in an awkward intermediate school and will be bumped up to middle school next year so I thought his days of class holiday parties were over until he came home from his Halloween party and told me how lame it was. So, I took over for Christmas and Valentine’s Day. I thought I was soooo over volunteering but I’ve enjoyed holding onto his final, fleeting moments of childhood. If no one is going to step up to help, I’d rather just do it than have nothing at all.
  • Hadley is a teenager with all the boy drama that involves. Not that she tells us anything but we have this glorious thing called text messaging where her love life (or lack thereof) unfolds in all the glories of unrequited teenage angst. She and Jamie have been swapping a virus for weeks. She was finally feeling better but then had a lot of late nights for her science fair project (an ode to–what else–pumpkins and nitrogen in the soil). She didn’t have to do a project because she’s not in Honors Science but as the top student in her class, she was the only one who chose to do a project. Did I mention she made the HONOR ROLL? However, her rundown body caught up with her and I told her she could sleep in as late as she wanted on Saturday but she did much more than that. She came home from school on Friday and took a nap, refusing to wake up for her volleyball team party she had been looking forward to and slept straight through the night, cranking out a whopping 17 hours of sleep. Just like her father–an overachiever.
  • The cat. Still fat.
  • I’ve been keeping busy. I went to a SkiUtah networking event a few weeks ago where I made some great contacts as we skied Sundance (the best kind of networking). My friend Sheri and I have vowed to try to ski together at Park City every week until the end of the season and we had a blast on the mountain last week. A few of us hiked to Stewart Falls a few weeks ago and got some fascinating avalanche training with beacons and probes.  I’ve been on a couple of hikes at Wasatch Mountain State Park but I need to either have the snow stick around forever so I can snowshoe it or just melt. Having snow that isn’t deep enough for snowshoes but not optimal for hiking is jacking up my knees. For the first time in my life, I’m feeling limited and it’s a constant source of frustration. I’m still fortunate to be able to do the things I love but I’m in pain when I do it.

    Park City Snowmamas

    WOW! Trail

    Sundance

    Stewart Falls

  • I feel like I’m in such limbo with work but there isn’t a lot to be done at this point because other people I’m relying on are engaged elsewhere. The kids are going to the acclaimed Keystone Science School this summer (thanks to a campaign I’m doing for Mile High Mamas) so Jamie and I will have five glorious days to ourselves in Colorado’s backcountry after dropping them off. I’ve been researching a lot of options but one is finalized: we’ll be staying at The Broadmoor after we pick them up, the perfect reward after several days of roughing it.
And the great finale of our happenings (crammed into one big paragraph):
Tomorrow is my birthday and we’re skiing Alta. We have new friends coming over tonight to play games, and our house is slowly coming together. We’ve taken a hiatus over the winter with projects but come spring, we’ll be delving in full-throttle organizing the garage, setting up shelves and putting in our yard. Jamie and I confessed we won’t truly love this house until we can finish the basement, something we can’t afford to do. (And I try not to focus on the fact that everything was done at our Colorado home and we were in a good place financially). My parents sent me some birthday money and I bought a cute mirror for our front entrance. By downsizing from a two-story house to a ranch with only one great room, a constant struggle is the kids don’t have anywhere to put their backpacks and schoolwork so our living room constantly looks like a bomb exploded. Our mudroom/laundry room is super small and inconvenient so we’ve debated moving our washer/dryer to the basement and building lockers/storage closets for all their c-r-a-p but again, that takes money. So, a temporary fix is I bought a beautiful console for the living from an upscale furniture consignment store in Park City and it has helped alleviate the mess. For now.

It has been six months some we left our beloved Colorado. In some ways, it feels like we’ve been here forever and in other ways, I wonder when we’ll finally feel settled. I read a quote this week that really hit home.

Sometimes it’s hard to watch other people “succeeding” when you feel like you keep getting knocked on your face. I get that. It’s hard to watch friends and family and peers storm “ahead” when you feel like you’re indefinitely stuck at ground zero. But from a life that’s been chopped down at the knees more than once, let me tell you… ground zero is a sacred space to be. Don’t wish it away in yearning for the mountain top. There is so much this space will give you…if you let it. Stop looking 10 miles ahead, and spend a moment or two taking in the totality of where you currently are. The juxtaposition of beauty and ashes is REAL, take it from me. But many of us miss this completely in our mad dash attempt to be anywhere but “here.” And I get that. Because pain is real, hurt is significant, fear is debilitating. Even so, trust me when I say, don’t pass over dollars to pick up dimes. What you have the potential to find in the rubble of your life, if you’ll just stop and LOOK, is beyond your wildest imaginings and will serve to propel you on to spaces and places you currently don’t have the capacity to foresee. Pinkie swear. Hang in there, beautiful you. God is on your side. -Natalie Norton

Duly noted and a much-needed reminder: we can do this.

My Husband: The Romantic

To be fair, Jamie can be a romantic, thoughtful guy and there was full disclosure before we got married that he hates to do dishes. In fact, his friend Carolyn was so disgusted with his kitchen that she would regularly clean it for him. I also happen to be OCD about the sink and hate to have dishes in there. As much as I’d love to have the kids unload the dishwasher, I have it in my mentally-ill mind that they can’t do it fast enough and if the dishwasher sits unloaded for hours on end, that means dishes will pile up.

So, I do the unloading in the hopes that throughout the day, my family will actually put their dishes in the dishwasher vs. dumping them in the sink. Despite my best efforts, it doesn’t happen and I’ve learned to live with it during the day. But after dinner, I always insist that we clean the kitchen and run the dishwasher. And I refuse to go to bed, even if we have a party until late, with dirty dishes in the sink.

It’s too bad my OCD doesn’t extend to the rest of the house.

The other night, we were watching my favorite show on TV, NBC’s This is Us. There was a scene when the doctor who delivered the main character’s triplets was walking through his home. His wife of 50+ years had passed away 14 months ago but there were memories of her everywhere. Her prescription bottles. Her clothes. Her perfumes.

It was dually heart-warming and sad. I turned to Jamie:

“When I die, will you keep a shrine up for me?”

“Of course! It will be a pile of dirty dishes.”

BYU Fans for Life

When I was at BYU, I attended my fair share of football, basketball and volleyball games. Some of my most memorable moments were going to the BYU football games every week with my friend Garritt, even though I was (and still am) clueless about the game. Give me a puck and a penalty box and this Canuck can talk for hours. But tight-ends and first downs? No thanks. Despite my lack of appreciation for football, we still had a lot of fun sitting in the student section.

My father-in-law bought season tickets to BYU basketball so Jamie has met him in Provo a few times. Last month, our whole family attended “Boomshakalak,” a fun kick-off to the season. It was my first time in the Marriott Center in 20 years and it was Bode’s first time ever so it was only appropriate that my tweet landed him on the Jumbotron. Repeatedly.

And we were so delighted to run into our besties from Colorado, the Larsons, who were visiting their three kids at BYU. I had no idea they would be there but saw they posted a picture on social media. We didn’t tell Hadley about Alexis so it was a funny, surprising reunion in the foyer. 

Fast-forward a few weeks later. We attended the wedding luncheon of the kids’ first babysitter Alexis, daughter of our longtime friends and neighbors, the Haymonds (how can these kids be old enough to get married?)

We high-tailed it over to BYU’s football game, another first for the kids. When Jamie bought the tickets a couple of months prior, it was risky. Late- November games are often miserable and snowy so we kept our fingers crossed and hoped for the best…and we got better than the best.

He bought nosebleed seats (because, you know, money) but as we were getting ready that morning, Jamie’s sister called to ask if we wanted her lobbyist neighbor’s awesome two seats on the 40-yard line. OH YEAH. We planned to just take turns.

We were late to the game because of the luncheon and arrived just before half-time. My friend Sarah texted me, “You should come sit by us. There’s an entire row of seats are empty.”

And these weren’t just any seats. Her husband Ben’s uncle is a major donor to BYU sports so these were even better seats at the 50 yard line. Bode was able to sit with Sarah’s boys and Hadley’s bestie Alex (they were in town for the wedding) hung out with her.

So, here’s how you do BYU football:

Sit in VIP seats.

Take full advantage of their VIP Legacy Tent wristbands with gourmet food but make sure you accidentally go to the wrong tent first (one reserved for sponsors) so you’ll get double the amount of food before realizing you’re in the wrong place.

Then go back to those seats and enjoy your individual coolers of beverage and treats.

The takeaway?

Buying cheap seats totally pays off.

Oh, and BYU won 51-9 but we were the real winners that day.

The birthday boy!

Celebrating another trip around the sun for our unsung hero with his favorite gingerbread pancakes and fresh apple marmalade. I

t’s been a tough year and he’s been the glue that has held us together with his hilarious one-liners and unwavering strength.

We vowed not to get Christmas gifts to save money but laughed yesterday upon uncovering we secretly bought each other the same gift from a random store an hour away.

It has often felt like we were worlds apart during the chaos of rebuilding our lives but in so many ways, we’re more in tune than ever.

I love you, Pumpkin Man!

The art of negotiation and a glimpse inside our marriage

When you live next to the world-class cross-country ski wonderland featured in the 2002 Salt Lake Olympic Games,  you’re overstretched on your budget but REALLY want your kids to learn to cross-country ski, this is what you do.

Bode’s buddies are taking a two-month-long course and I really really really want both of the kids to do it but Hadley is extremely resistant, which makes me sad because she’s the one who shows the most promise. In fact, when we cross-country skied in Crested Butte a couple of years ago, our instructor told her if she was local, she’d recruit her for their Junior Olympic Nordic Skiing team. The girl has potential.

But zero motivation.

And we have zero extra money. It has something to do with moving and the thousands of dollars we’ve spent doling out money for a fence, building two rooms in our basement, sprinklers, a new couch (after the new one we ordered was literally falling apart after a month), Christmas (which will be minimal at best) and did I mention Jamie left his iPhone in his jeans and I washed it?

I told my dad to skip out on giving us presents this year and just contribute to the Hadley-Bode downhill skiing fund, which he was glad to do. At least two members of our family will be skiing this winter.

Since I’m in the business of picking my battles with Hadley (and the zero money factor), I acquiesced on the cross-country lessons and decided to focus on Bode. His buddies are taking the course and he’s bored out of his mind after school. I figured it would be an easy sell to Jamie to spend $150 vs. the $300 for both of them. I mean, really. Twice weekly lessons + rentals for just $150?

Plus, for volunteering during class, I accumulate free trail passes for Soldier Hollow. It’s a steal, really.

But I had to sell it to the Banker.

Me: I’m here to negotiate.

Jamie: OK.

Me: I’m signing Bode up for cross-country skiing.

Jamie: How is that a negotiation?

Me: I negotiate like a terrorist.