It is officially that awkward time of year in Montana.  Snowboarding is over.  Cross country skiing is done.  Too mucky and icy to mountain bike and usually too cold on the downhill as well.  Hiking trails are still too wintery.  Too cold to float the river.  You’re probably assuming we just catch up on some reading, maybe do some spring cleaning.

You would be wrong.

Get out your jerseys and gloves,  Lace up your cleats and pump up that pig skin.  It is Powder Puff Football season.

No! Don’t pump up the pigskin.  As I advised Tom Brady; proper deflation  in the football and your whole team plays better especially if you have little hands.  A flat junior sized football is optimal in powder puff and not so painful on tender breast.

Darby Powder Puff Football League started several years ago by my eternal optimist friend  Christina.   The league is a school fundraiser for the Destination Imagination Teams.  Each football team pays a fee to play, people pay to come watch, there is a concession stand and there are paid sponsors.  We have referees, a chain gang, a clock/scoreboard person and an entertaining announcer who makes the cost of the $2.00 ticket, the deal of the day.

We have encouraged the spouse like people to create a cheerleading squad but clearly need to up the encouragement ante as this had not yet become a reality.

The league originally started as a fall event.  Then one year a Destination Imagination team won state and were headed to Knoxville for the World Competition.  This meant a mad scramble for more fund raising and the advent of Spring Powder Puff Football.

There was even an experiment to have a men’s league.  A testosterone filled football field without any bodily protection is just an invitation to a catastrophe.  The men’s championship game ended in a fight and everyone was told to go home.

The women seem to be more tame but I would have to say that “powder puff” is a misnomer.  This game is rough and tough.  I’ve been flattened, run over and stepped on all in one fell swoop and once by my own teammate.

Traditionally, I have played the quarterback position.  Number 16; Poe Montana; in case you haven’t heard of me.  Most people assume I’m the quarterback because I have such a good arm and an insanely accurate throw.  No.  I am the quarterback because I can immediately get rid of the ball, step back and let the play take it’s course while I’m safely in the background with no one coming after my flags.  I’m the oldest one in the league and I’m not stupid.  Quickly getting away from a mad rush of competitive women is your safest bet.

It was my childhood dream to be a football quarterback.  One year I asked my mom to buy me a “Mr. Quarterback” a battery operated devise that you placed your football in and it would throw you the ball.  My mom said that was the saddest thing she had ever heard and instead brought guys home to throw the football with me in the yard.  Thanks to my mom for teaching me that men are better than battery operated devices.

Powder Puff games are played rain, sun or snow.  Some seasons there are just smeared event signs up and down main street as the weather has wrecked them before the games have even started. It’s always a good time whether you are standing by a burn barrel to keep warm or getting burned by the hot sun.  We’ve always had 4 teams in the tournament; Dotson’s Barmaids, Hamilton Wild Things, Darby Destroyers and the green team or blue team; I can’t remember.  The Barmaids have won most of the tournaments but we have made them earn it.

After the tournaments you’ll find most of us  supporting some of the local drinking establishments and having  a celebratory or congratulatory shot. A shot whose name is usually a particular body part paired up with a descriptive adjective.

If you’re looking for a good time and want to help out a local fund raising event then come cheer on the teams on the evening of April 24 and all day April 25 to help send another Darby DI team to Knoxville again this year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brett and I just spent 11 days in Belize.  We were on an REI Travel trip; Belize Ultimate Multisport Adventure.  Our Maya guides called us “The Ultimates”.  I highly recommend this adventure.  Every single day was amazing.  Brett and I had never done anything like this.  Each adventure from landing in the Belize City Airport to camping in the jungle was an eye opening experience.  Although we did many cool things like snorkeling, sea kayaking, paddle boarding, inflatable kayaking and caving and stayed in forest cabanas, beach cabanas and two man tents; what made this trip so spectacular was the local Maya guides.

We rotated through Juan Carlos, Mario, Valencio and Pedro.  They were all very passionate and proud of their culture.  They knew dates, statistics, history, animals, plants and trees and they took pride in sharing this information with our group of eleven North Americans. The official language of Belize is English, but among themselves, the locals speak a Kriol (that’s how they spell it) of English, Spanish and words from an ancient language.  There wasn’t a language barrier although the dialect proved to be challenging.  I thought they were offering a hummus sandwich but it was actually a ham sandwich.  My mistake caused a genuine, loud, long, heart felt, contagious deep belly laugh from the Maya guide.  The Maya were happy, easy going, laid back and real.  They were what made this trip an unforgettable experience.

Juan Carlos was our first guide.  He picked us up from the airport and took us to the Nature Center where we stayed in forest cabanas which were like staying in a screened in porch.  We had our meals in the dinning hall; just a bigger screened in porch.  Someone in our group compared it to summer camp.  Juan Carlos gave us a talk on the history of Belize, formerly know as British Honduras and answered our questions.  He prepped us on our cave tour for the next day with what to wear and why we couldn’t bring cameras.  We met very early the next morning for the cave tour as Juan Carlos wanted to beat the crowds so that we could enjoy it more.  It was a bit of a drive to the trail head and then a 30 minute hike to the cave entrance.  We wore long pants, shirts, closed toes shoes (I wore a pair of old running shoes), headlamps, helmets, and life jackets.  Juan Carlos carried a dry bag backpack with safety supplies and a machete. Now I wish we had been able to have a camera.  We jumped into the river and swam to the entrance of the cave.  From there we were anywhere from ankle deep to almost swimming deep while going farther into the cave.  In some places we were squeezing our necks between narrow openings in the rocks and in other places the cave was as big as the Duke Cathedral.  Along the way we saw many Maya artifacts and human remains while Juan Carlos told us all he knew about the cave and it’s ancient uses.

After returning to the trail head and having a picnic lunch, Juan Carlos drove us to Dangria where we met our next Maya guide Mario and our white guy guide Todd from Great Britain. Then a boat trip to the five acre island of Tobacco Caye where we stayed in small cabins that were also like screened in porches but a little more beefy due to the constant wind, sand and salt.  Here we learned to snorkel and sea kayak.  You could tell that Mario was at home in the water.  He could stay under forever, swam like a fish and knew all of the names of the sea plants and animals.  He used fins and a mask but no snorkel.  He would just hold his breath, dive down, point out things with his pointer stick, swim back to the surface and yell out the name of what he just pointed out.  We could all hear him because our heads were just on the surface of the water watching.

After snorkeling and before dinner Mario gave us a coconut talk.  He climbed straight up a 30 foot coconut tree with only his hands and feet touching the tree and he was up in 15 seconds He twisted the coconuts until they fell from the tree onto the sand.  White guy guide Todd tired to climb the tree too.  He used his whole body to cling to the tree and slowly and painfully inched his way up, twisted a few coconuts and painfully slid back down.  He then headed to his room to tend to his wounds.  Meanwhile Mario told us about all of the uses of the coconut.  He cut into the shell with his machete where you find the brown fuzzy nut that you see in the grocery store. He sliced off the top and poured the coconut water into one of the pitchers that we had borrowed from the kitchen.  Our talk would be concluded with coconut water and rum cocktails.  Mario sliced open the coconut and we all got to try the fresh coconut.  He shredded some through a hand crank shredder and we tried that.  Then he mixed the shredded coconut with the coconut water to make coconut milk which they use in the kitchen.  It was a an hour long coconut talk and it was fascinating.

At our next Island of Southwest Caye at Glover’s Atoll we were joined by another Maya guide, Valencio; Mario’s cousin.  Valencio helped with the snorkeling and other water activities for our two days of exploring Glover’s Atoll.  Another boat ride took us back to the mainland where there was a van waiting to pick us up.  We said good bye to Mario and hello to Mario’s brother Pedro.  Pedro drove us to a beautiful lodge where we got our first hot shower and were able to wash away the sand and salt of the ocean.  The next morning we rode for a couple of hours and down a long bumpy dirt rode, through several villages and eventually arrived at Pedro and Valencio’s village.  Pedro took us to his home for a bathroom break.  His home was a long hut with a thatched palm leave roof, a concrete floor, wooden walls that had been made with a chain saw, an open fire pit for cooking  and hammocks for sleeping.  There were no interior walls, no electricity, no running water.  We had more stuff in our luggage than these people had in there home. The chickens came in and out as they pleased, but the pigs remained in the yard.  Pedro’s wife and 3 of his 11 children were in the home and watched silently as Pedro gave us a tour.  The tour just meant standing still and turning your head as he pointed things out.  He took us out back behind the house down a short path to the place to use for a toilet.  A hole in the ground with a wooden box over the hole and a toilet seat on top of the wooden box.  The walls were palm leaves and there was a piece of plastic acting as a door.

From Pedro’s house we walked through the village of 400 plus people and to the community center where the women and girls had set up a craft sell for our group of eleven. Everything was laid out on the floor on blankets and the women and girls sat on the floor next to their crafts. We bought bracelets, baskets, wooden carvings, hair bands and other jewelry that they had made.  They also had a donation basket for their school that we all gave to.  Once we were done with our first shopping spree of the trip we left and the women and girls packed everything up and went back home or back to school.  From there we went to another home for lunch.  A family had prepared a hot lunch for us and we sat in their home on a long wooden bench and ate wonderful local home grown food.  The village is completely sustainable .  During the rainy season their road to the city is flooded and they are unable to get out for months.  They all have their own farms, raise animals and there is plenty of fruit.  The forest supplies all of the building materials for their homes.  The community comes together and can build a home like Pedro’s in two days.  One day for the walls and one day for the roof.  We thanked the people for our lunch and headed out when we heard our van return.

Valencio, Todd and another white guy guide, Kyle had driven to the river put in, inflated our tandem inflatable kayaks, loaded them with our dry bags and everyone had a bucket of food on their boat as well.  They drove us to the put in and gave us a quick paddle lesson.  Pedro called the tandem kayaks “divorce makers”.  It clearly took some practice.  After the first day one couple realized it would be better to split up now in order to continue to have a good time on the trip and they never paddled  together again.  We camped in tents in the jungle for 3 nights as we floated down the Moho River.  The guides made our meals for us.  One night they cooked chicken over an open fire.  They built a grill over the fire with sticks from the jungle.  Then placed the chicken on the sticks that they had soaked in the river and then placed palm leaves over the chicken to keep in the heat. Pedro put on spices that he had made in his home from the peppers in his farm.  The meat eaters said it was delicious.  While the chicken was cooking Pedro and Valencio took us on a nature walk.  They both carried their machetes.  We didn’t get too far in the walk as we were mostly stopped while Pedro told us what all of the trees and plants were and what each one was used for.  He gave us allspice leaves to chew on.  He cut out a heart of palm for us to try.  He showed us all of the different trees they used for building their homes.

In the evenings right as it was getting dark the noises of the jungle would start.  It was a symphony of different noises with a light show from the lightening bugs and headlamp beetles.  At the third night’s camping spot we heard Howler monkeys as well.  Pedro and Valenio were open to telling us stories about their village and their families and even a little bit about their beliefs.  I asked why there were Jesus signs on the road leading to their village and they said that was the Mennonites.  They had three churches in their village.  A Mennonite, a Roman Catholic and a Baptist but that none of them were well attended.  They had their own ancient believes and tended to stick to those.  Pedro had delivered his first 7 children in his home.  After that the government told them that they had to go to the health clinic.  Pedro’s son had been bitten by a poisonous snake when he was fourteen and was out looking for young coconuts.  Pedro took him to the Shaman who sucked out the venom and knew the proper prayers for a snake bite.  They boy’s leg swelled up and he couldn’t walk for six months.  He is now alive and well six years later.

Valencio was fishing one night while on our trip and slipped and fell on the rocks.  He explained that he then had fear to continue so he had to drink the water from the river and pee it out in order to release his fears and then he was fine.  This all made me question the Mennonites and other religious missionaries that come into a remote village to change their beliefs.  Actually, I was getting mad about it.  Why is one belief better than another.  These were happy, beautiful intelligent people who lived off the land in bare feet and gave birth to their children in their homes.  Why would a group nail up Jesus signs in their villages.  The Maya don’t come to other countries and nail up “Maya: we know the right prayers for a deadly snake bite; put your belief in us”.  They could put up “Maya Happy; laughter is the best medicine”

On the fourth and final day of floating the river Pedro wanted us to see an Iguana up close.  The iguana slept way up high in fig trees.  Their defense when feeling threatened is to fall in the river from way up high in the tree.  We did hear a loud splash once but did not see the iguana fall.  Pedro told Valencio to go climb one of the trees with the resting iguanas.  Valencio went up the tree as if he were just going for a walk on a paved sidewalk.  He shook out an iguana and the white guy guides jumped into the river after it, but without the innate ability to swim and see underwater they failed.  Further down the river Pedro found another tree of resting iguanas and he climbed the tree and shook one out.  Valencio dove into the water like an Eagle diving for a fish.  His feet were out of the water. Kicking and kicking and kicking.  What we couldn’t see was Valencio wrestling the iguana underwater waiting for it to get tired out.  Then Valencio swam back to his kayak with the iguana for show and tell.  Brett started paddling towards him.  I started paddling away.  I was close enough to this reptilian, snake like, prehistoric looking animal and did not want to get any closer.  I lost and was seconds from jumping out of the kayak as I floated too close and Brett took the iguana from Valencio.

We floated into the village for the take out and saw the women out in the river doing the washing and the children were playing and waiting for our arrival.  Several of them hopped onto Todd’s boat and rode on top of his dry bags to the take out.  We unloaded and disassembled the boats while the group of children helped us carry everything up to the road.  We changed into dry clothes and the children led us to a home to buy cold drinks and then to another home for lunch and more craft shopping.  This village was known as a mennonite village and most of the Maya women wore long dresses and head scarfs.  After lunch we said our good byes and thank you’s to Pedro as we loaded the van and headed back to Dangria and then a ride in a small plane back to Belize City.

Thank you to Brett for a most incredible adventure.  Thank you fellow Ultimates for sharing this adventure and all of the good times.  Thank you Bruce for the pictures I stole from you for this blog post.  And thank you to our guides who made this trip much more than just a vacation.

Check out Wild About Books; a seriously great reference site for book lovers and adventures lovers as well.

You are really going to like this month’s book selection.  This is a laugh out loud novel about a grown man with Asperger’s.  He’s unaware that he has Asperger’s but is aware that he does not fit into societal norms.  It isn’t until he falls in love that he starts to work on his quirky ways and even become a little flexible in his strictly scheduled life.  I really liked this book and finished it on my trip.  I highly recommend “The Rosie Project” by Graeme Simsion.  It’s a light quick read and very enjoyable.

I’m cutting this post short to make up for the super long one that’s in the works.  It’s also taking me a while to get my energy back from the trip I just took and I’m feeling behind in everything at work and at home.  Maybe I’m just suffering from “river time” in the real world.  How can we incorporate “river time” to become “real time”.   A little more laid back, not so uptight about deadlines and schedules.  I try.  I try to do this but it has the same results as me not celebrating Daylight Savings Time.

I was working an Adventure Cycling Supported bicycle trip  one year and was sitting on the back of the U-haul luggage truck. It was the first day of the trip.  The luggage truck driver and another worker were sitting with me when three of the participants came up to us and said they were ready to register.  Annie told them that registration started at 3:00.  They all looked at their watches and said

“…it’s three o’clock”

We looked at each other and said;

“oh…..well…come back in 10 minutes.”

They did come back in 10 minutes and we had our table set up with rider packets, t-shirts and other information for their 8 day bike ride in Montana.  The three men decided at that moment that they were not going to be so uptight and that anytime they  crossed a river or a creek they were going to stop and go for a swim.  They were not going to be on a hurry up mission to get to the ending point for the day.  They were going to enjoy the sights and sounds and even the other participants on the trip. These men were luckier than most participants.  They discovered “river time” on the first day.  I hope that they took a little of it back with them when they went home to their busy lives.

Check out Wild About Books to see other monthly book selections.

 

Once upon a time, not so long ago, in a not too distant place there lived a mountain bike princess. She spread love, peace and happiness in everything she did.  She was not your typical princess; most people had no idea that she was a mountain bike princess.  She was simple and plain and genuine and sincere; certainly not a high maintenance princess as one would assume of all princesses. But, if you looked closely you could see that she had strong thighs and firm triceps and helmet hair.  She could swing an ax, knit beautiful scarfs, grow her own vegetables, and she liked to drink micro brews; especially at lunch.

Being a mountain bike princess did not come easy to her.  She had spent many hours learning to use her clip pedals in which her special shoes attached to her special pedals.  With a quick twist of the foot you are magically released from the pedal.  The learning curve for this quick twist was high for the mountain bike princess as she rode around in the grassy yard falling over and over and over still attached to the pedals and unable to put her foot on the ground to catch herself.  She laid on the ground looking up at the sky with her bike sandwiched between her legs when her two young children showed up, starring down on her.  They had a look of concern; the boy clinching his Mighty Morphined Power Rangers in his hands and the girl holding tightly onto her Bare Naked Barbies.

You knew it was a good day in the house of the Mountain Bike Princess when the Mighty Morphined Power Rangers and The Bare Naked Barbies were playing well together.  I asked my son one day what morphined meant.  He replied that that meant they didn’t have a mom or dad.  From that day forwarded we referred to them as the Mighty Orphaned Power Rangers.

The Bare Naked Barbies got their name simply from the fact that no one could get the clothes back on these inflexible dolls once they came off.  There was a basket of bare naked barbies to choose from and a wide assortment of clothing that was never worn.  One of the barbies had attachable wings.  These wings could be dipped into bubble solution and then you would wave the barbie around in the air and the bubbles would fill the world as only bubbles can do.  Shortly after the purchase of bubble barbie, she not only lost her clothes but she lost her wings as well.  With the six holes in her back for attaching the wings she became know as Bare Naked Buckshot Barbie.

As the children looked upon their mother lying in the grass after falling on her mountain bike, the boy asked; “Mom. Don’t you ever cry?”

The mom looked into her children’s eyes and told them no; for she was the Mountain Bike Princess.  The children gasped in amazement.  They knew that their mom was magical but had never dreamed that their mom was The Mountain Bike Princess.  They knew from this day forward that they would now be held to a higher standard than most children and they never faltered from this expectation.

The Mountain Bike Princess had few enemies and mostly, people were true and good to her and her children.  She did have to protect them from one bad witch who tried to lure them into her evil lair with Barbies and Nintendo, with cases of coca cola and buckets of thin mints.  But, the children were smart.  They were cautious.  They knew that love came from the heart and not from Costco.  Eventually as the children got older the evil witch left them alone.  The evil witch did manage, in her resentful, retaliatory ways, to steal their father from them.  It was unfortunate as he was a good father.  But that’s another story.

Eleven glorious days without technology.  Can you picture it?  Could you function?  Would you look forward to it?  I’m looking forward to it.

We are leaving the country to a lush and exotic land where there is sand and water and jungle and plenty of outdoors.  I’m packing swim suits, snorkel gear, bug repellent, sun screen, sleeping bag, sandals,  a few clothes and a notebook and pen.  I will not be packing any chargers for electronic devices.  Last time I traveled I packed 5 chargers; laptop, phone, camera, kindle, and garmin.  I am taking my kindle this trip but it’s only an e-reader and will be plenty charged for the 11 days.  I’m also taking a digital camera, but it’s battery operated.

I will not miss the 10 million passwords I use at work.  I will not miss impatiently waiting for the slow Darby internet at work.  I certainly will not miss all of the cute shit non-personal sayings that facebook has become.  I will not miss the tv, radio or car.  We will be traveling by sea kayak and river kayak once we arrive.  I will not miss my smart phone.  The weather will be what it will be whether I look it up on my phone or not. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my technology, but I don’t like being a slave to it.

Interesting that we have to take a wilderness vacation to get away from all of the technology.

If the power goes out at work, I go home.  If the printer breaks at work, I go home.  If the internet goes down at work nothing can be accomplished in my job.  We are so tied to it.  Dependent on it.  I sit in meetings where everyone has their cell phone sitting in front of them.  Don’t want to miss that earth shattering call.  Worse,  they rudely answer it; whether it is a text or a call.  Check out this entertaining short film about a student who has fallen in love with his phone; The Intervention.

I’ll let you know how it goes.  Actually, if you never hear from me again, you’ll know it was complete bliss.

I’m truly enjoying the March Book selection, “Norwegian by Night” .  If you have not started it yet, I do recommend it. If you read “The Art of Racing in the Rain” you’ll remember how well that author told the story from a dog’s point of view.  In “Norwegian by Night” the author does an incredible job telling the story from the point of view of an elderly man with hints of dementia.  You get inside this character’s head and understand how it is to have 80 years of memories floating around and that you could possibly mix them up.  Read the book; you’ll love it.  It’s not a chick book either.  There is war, police detectives and killing too.

I also just finished “The Magnesium Miracle” in my desperate pursuit of self diagnosing my debilitating headaches.  I highly recommend this book which suggest that we have over rated the mineral calcium and seriously underrated magnesium.  It is a cure for many issues, not just headaches.

I’m also reading “Mindfulness in Plain English” and am enjoying it as well.

I can’t sign off without a few words about daylight savings time.   Why wreck a perfectly good standard time? Just when it was starting to get light enough in the morning for a sunrise run; it’s wrecked with daylight savings time.  Whose saving the daylight? 

No post for the next couple of weeks.  You’ll have to re-read some of your favorites; especially if you’re needing a good book to read.

I come from a family of story tellers. Ministers, song writers, published authors, poets, letter writers, play writers.  I suppose we are all story tellers, but my family adds an element of over zealousness that puts you as the listener into a story that you had never been a part of before but now, somehow, you are.  We also are able to tell the story in a way that we are clearly entertaining ourselves as much as anyone else and that in itself makes it entertaining.  Sometimes we are cracking ourselves up at our own story so much that we have to pause and pull ourselves together in order to continue.

So many of our conversations start with; “here’s a story for ya” or “y’all are not going to believe this story”.

Last week Zach told me he enjoyed my “Practice Baby” post.  I said to him that I told the stories as I remembered them and embellished as necessary.  He said there was no need to ruin a good story with the facts.

I want to share some story resources for you.

One of Zach and Hannah’s favorite story tellers when they were growing up was Bill Harley.  Excellent story telling, humor and songs.  I highly recommend Bill Harley for young and old, even though he caters to children, everyone will relate to his stories.  I should tell you that my adult children and I are texting Bill Harley quotes to each other right at this moment and I would bet that we have not listened to one of his stories in 15 years.

Another great story telling venue is “Radio Lab” which plays on NPR or you can listen to it on a podcast or just go to the website.  These story tellers have mastered the art of radio production.  A couple of my favorites are “Even the Worst Laid Plans” about the Berkley Pit in Butte, Montana and “A Bus To Nowhere” about Alzheimer’s patients in a nursing home in Germany. When conferring with my staff, they listed some favorites that I have not even listened to yet.  Try Radio Lab; you’ll be hooked.

My new favorite find is “The Moth Radio Hour“, also on NPR. To start off with I suggest listening to “Juicy Lessons from the Place”.  This is so entertaining.  I would like to be a story teller like this person.  The story is engaging and seriously funny.  Enjoy.

The Wild About Books March book selection is a novel and it is a good example of entertaining story telling.  There are interesting characters, unusual relationships, suspense, mystery and humor.  I have not finished this book yet so I’m not sure how it will continue, but so far so good.  The book is “Norwegian by Night” by Derek Miller.

” An extraordinary debut, featuring a memorable hero, Norwegian by Night is the last adventure of a man still trying to come to terms with the tragedies of his life. Compelling and sophisticated, it is both a chase through the woods thriller and an emotionally haunting novel about aging and regret.” Goodreads.

More monthly book selections  as well as entertaining story telling can be found at Wild About Books.

 

The February Wild About Books book of the month is “10% Happier” by Dan Harris.  I would like to compliment this book with some other resources about this month’s book, about meditation and about mindfulness.  First a quick “10% Happier” book review from another blog that I have recommended in a previous Wild About Books post, The Minimalist.  Click here for the review.

Next I would like to recommend a facebook page, Osborne Health and Healing, check it out for some mindfulness tips and endless resources, including a talk from Ellen Langer about our society and its mindless ways.

Lastly, I would like to recommend an app to get you started on meditation called Headspace.  I’m currently on the free Take 10 portion of this app in which it guides you through ten 10 minute meditations to get you started on your meditation path.

This post is short and sweet but with lots of homework.  Quick update for my followers.  It’s been so warm and dry for the past month that Deja Vu and I have been out only once.  She is getting mildly depressed about this hiatus.  On the flip side, I did run in shorts and a short sleeve shirt yesterday and I’m seriously considering taking Mrs. Ecstasy Cubed , my mountain bike, for a ride.   Adult ed pickleball was a success.  We had two courts set up, 8 people signed up, 7 people showed up along with one helper and myself.   Other exciting news. I’m the newest member of the Darby Library Board of Directors and the new Darby Junior High Assistant Tennis Coach.  You can seriously do anything you want in a small town.  Usually; it’s your turn anyway.

 

Her first name is Burton.  She must be named after her grandfather or something.  Her middle name, which she goes by, is Deja Vu.  Her nickname, used only by her close friends, is Flying V. She’s a female and she’s black.  In the winter, we spend most weekends together and often times a bonus weekday.  She knows how to have fun, loves the outdoors, and keeps me on my toes and heels.  We have a mutual respect for each other and rely on each other to get us through the ups and especially the downs. She also doesn’t mind when I pee on her. It’s no secret that I have a girl crush.  Deja Vu is my snowboard.

Deja Vu loves boarding through the trees on chair four at Lost Trail Powder Mountain.  We will be weaving in and out of the of the perfectly spaced trees and Deja Vu keeps dropping the F-bomb in sheer excitement.

I say to her “Deja Vu.  This is a family ski hill.  You can’t keep talking like that”

She says, “Lisa, get over it.  I don’t see one single person in these trees to hear me.”

I look around and she’s right, we have not seen anyone since we left the groomer and snuck into the trees.

Mostly Deja Vu is a powder whore.  She admits it.  Don’t even bother her unless you can promise six inches or more.  On powder days she is the first one up and in the car ready to go.  We did go up one day for 36 inches and that was difficult.  We crashed on upper Thunder just under the chair.  I had to dig her out of the snow which was not easy.  She started crying and saying we were going to be here until June.  I had to yell at her to pull herself together and get her head out of her ass which made her laugh because she doesn’t have a head or an ass.  Eventually we got going again, crossed the cat track and headed down lower Thunder and all was well until we got to the flat part just before the lower cat track.  We crashed again.  This time even I was worried that we would be there until June.  Deja Vu was not stuck but every time I tried to get upright my arm would sink into the snow up to my face.  There was nothing solid to push against, just 36 inches of soft fluffy snow.  Even if I undid the bindings it would be like trying to walk on water.  So I started rolling; using Deja Vu as a lever.  Deja Vu is not religious or a church goer, but you would have thought different that day as we started a slow role towards solid groomed snow.

“Good God Almighty” she yelled, “Sweet Jesus and mother Mary whose smart idea was this?”.

Eventually we fell off the powder lip and onto the solid snow packed road with a thud.  We were exhausted and covered in snow and this was the first run of the day.

My friend Aaron Lebowitz has started designing, building and selling snowboards in Missoula. Soulmotion is the name of his company.  Every time I see him at Lost Trail he uses his enthusiastic, lover of life, triple latte energy to entice me to ride one of his boards.  I do want to try out one of his boards for sure.  But how can I possibly leave Deja Vu planted in the snow by the lodge and ride the lift with another board? We’ve been together for so long I don’t even know if I could ride another board.

Don’t get me wrong.  Deja Vu and I have had our moments.  One time I embarrassed her so bad that she was wishing she was a ski and could just spit me out.  That’s the difference between a board and a ski.  A ski can be thinking “have you lost your mind?” and eject you down the mountain while the ski comes to a safe stop.  A board on the other hand is bound to you for the whole ride.  You could be sliding on your back, head first down an icy mountain and that board is still attached to your feet.  If you’re thinking fast you’ll use your board to help break the slide instead of picking up speed the farther you go.  We had just gotten to the top of chair two the day I embarrassed Deja Vu.  The wind was howling at the top and right in our face.  I eased to the edge of the chair and in a timely manner stood up at the get off point and the wind blew me  back into the emergency stop arm.  The entire lift came to a stop.  Deja Vu is scrambling in a mad panic to remove herself from the scene.  The lift guy has to come out of his warm shack to start it back up as an entire chair lift of people are waiting.  I’m non gracefully dragging myself with my arms away from the chairs in a legless, homeless person kind of way.   Deja Vu did not speak to me the rest of the day.

I have been equally upset with her at times too.  We were going up the rope tow to head back into the lodge when the rope tow stopped.  We were maybe 20 feet from the start so we waited for the rope tow guy to walk from the bottom shack to the top to flip the switch or plug it back in or whatever he does.  As we waited a punk kid got in front of us on the rope.  There was barely enough room between me and the person in front of me and now there was another kid in that space.  Deja Vu starts mouthing off.

“Who does he think he is? I’m gonna run his ass over….as soon as this rope starts I’m running him over. Teach his ass a lesson”

I said “no, no you’re not.  He doesn’t know any better and you do.  Get ready”

I grabbed the rope and leaned back.  Abruptly the rope tow started back up and Deja Vu and I were prepared.  The kid in front of us was clearly not ready and we ran over him.  I did not talk to Deja Vu the rest of that day.

Most days Deja Vu and I have an epic day.  Sometimes we have a biblical day, which is an epic day times two.  There are times when we are floating peacefully together down the side of a mountain on a blue bird day with soft powder spraying in our wake and we know that this day was meant for us.  We fall in love with the moment.  We find the perfect spot where the turn and the slope of the mountain create a sensation of zero gravity.  You’ll know it’s us.  All you can see in the bundled up helmeted, goggled me is my smile as you hear Deja Vu dropping the f-bomb. There goes the Flying V.

You can find more entertaining blog posts and the monthly book selection at Wild About Books. Thanks for reading.

December 1987 and we are preparing to leave the hospital with my first born beautiful baby boy.  Not much more than babies ourselves we clumsily wrap the baby up in a blanket.  Wait.  Why is it such a mess?  For the last two days our baby had been brought to me like a tightly wrapped burrito.  Where was I during the wrap your baby like a burrito lesson?  The nurse’s aide comes in with a wheel chair to take us to the front door.

“Could you show us how to wrap the baby up in a blanket?” I ask her.

“OH MY LO’…..” she says with her eyes about to bust out of her head in amazement at our stupidity and the fact that she is going to let these two people out into the world with an infant.  “….. IS this yo’ practice baby?”

She takes Zach from me and wraps him like an egg roll with a head sticking out, hands him back and pushes me down the hallway.  She shakes her head and mutters incomprehensible sentences for the whole wheel chair ride  with no hope in our parenting successes.  Zach is known from this day forward as “our practice baby”.

April 1988 and I’m fairly certain that my 4 month old baby is about to die. He’s coughing like a 60 year old man that’s been smoking most of his life.  I am convinced that he is going to cough up a lung into his baby bed. He sounds like a goose who just ate a dog and the dog is stuck in his throat.  It’s 4 am.  I have no idea what to do.  I should call the doctor.  I love his doctor but it’s 4 am, I would wake him up.   I called him.

“Croup,  he just has croup.  Take him outside in the cool night air and he’ll be better.”

Croup?  Why has no one told me about croup?  I called the doctors office  later, much later that day and left a message for the doctor.  Please tell the doctor I’m sorry for calling him at 4 am.  It’s not  Zach’s fault.  He’s my practice baby

December 2002 and we are waiting patiently for our turn at the driver’s license office. This is a monumental day for a 15 year old boy.  We practiced parallel parking on the way up and had an in depth conversation about the interesting personalities of the people that work for the driver’s license office.  We discussed that it’s better not to let them see you cry because it does appear that that is their mission and you would make their day complete with tears.

Finally it is our turn when they call out “next” and we step up to the desk and hand the woman our completely and properly filled out paperwork and Zach’s birth certificate.  She doesn’t smile or greet us.

“What’s this?” she ask holding the birth certificate.

“That’s his birth certificate” I say a bit confused because it’s clearly a birth certificate.

“It MUST  be a sealed certified copy” she says like I’m a complete fool.  She’s trying to intimidate me with her advanced degree in rudeness.

“Well.” I said.  “This is what they gave me the day he was born.  It even states “mother’s copy” on it. How can you get more certified than the mother’s copy?”

She gets in my face, looks me in the eyes and with her mouth that looks like it just ate a lemon with a curdled milk chaser and yells, “NEXT!”

Remembering my advice to Zach, I hold back my tears and pull out the my imaginary super hero cape as this situation calls for Super Mom to take action.  Mom’s know what I’m talking about.  There is a time for politeness and there is a time for the primitive, protective, don’t mess (sic) with me; Super Mom!

I reach up and cover Zach’s ears as I look into the disturbed depths of this driver’s license office employee and articulate each word speaking slowly so that there is no misunderstanding.

“It…..is……not…..his……fault;……he….is…….my……..practice………….baby.”

And we walk out without a driver’s license for my 15 year old son.

I’m only telling you this story because as followers and readers of my blog; you are my practice readers.  You get to read my typos, my misuse of its and it’s, my verb tense changes in the middle of a sentence, my run on sentences, lack of commas, too many commas.

I’m learning.  I’m practicing.  I will get better.

I took an Ed2Go writing class.  After turning in my final assignment, the instructor noted that she used to have bad dreams about people like me; talent in a thick mist of fog deep in a forest filled with whirling dervishes,  trying to find it’s way out.  Totally rough around the edges with a hint of maybe; someday.  She suggested I take her grammar refresher class; which I will do next.

I would like to conclude with one more Zach story.

When Zach was in junior high one of my jobs at the school was to scan the students lunch cards when they arrived in the cafeteria.  Just before the kindergarteners were about to show up, a teacher’s aide came in early to grab a lunch.  She told me that Zach had been a hilarious contestant in the spelling bee.  I laughed and said that she is clearly mistaken that my Zach can’t spell worth a rat’s ass.  She was convinced that it was my Zach and that he had made it into the fourth round.  Yep, you are confused.  There is no way any one would think to put my Zach in a spelling bee and he certainly wouldn’t make it to the fourth round.

Turns out Zach was in the spelling bee, he was entertaining and he misspelled “peak-a-boo” in the fourth round.

On the morning of the spelling bee the actual spelling bee participants decided that they did not have the….um….they were scared to go on stage in front of their peers and screw up.  The teacher told the alternates that they would be in the spelling bee.  They too quickly decided there was no way they were going to risk their reputation in a spur of the moment decision that they had not prepared or dressed for.  They had also not spend the obligatory evening before stressing about it either.  The teacher quickly realized that he was not going to get a speller on stage and that he must do the next best thing and get a student that could act like a spelling bee contestant.  There was one junior high student who fit that description…. Zach Honey.

To the delight of his teacher and all of his fellow students, including himself, he made it into the fourth round.  Spelling three words correctly, but more importantly,  entertaining the crowd at each turn.    He was given a standing ovation when he left the stage after being knocked out when misspelling a word.

The lesson I learned from my 13 year old practice baby that day was that you can do anything you want to.  You have to act like you are what you want to be and you have to believe it and don’t forget to have fun while you’re at it.  Zach did all of those things that day; he was a super star and a spelling bee contestant.

I’m reading a great book right now that my good friend, hero and pottery teacher just loaned me.  “Steal Like an Artist”.  It’s a quick read but full of delicious insight for people in pursuit of a creative dream.  

Thank you all for being my practice readers.  It’s nice to have an audience and I’m having fun writing this blog.

Next week’s post will be the Wild About Books March book selection.

Wild About Books

The books that I choose to read seem to keep guiding me to try meditating.  Meditation must be an incredible life changing experience.  I think there are things that I do that clear my head. Knitting would be one.  You have to concentrate just enough on the knitting that you can’t be thinking about dinner or tomorrow or yesterday.  Mountain biking on a single track trail is also close to meditating for me. Once again, you must be focused on the trail not on how you screwed up the building reserve budget.  Mostly, I have been pushing this idea of meditating to the side.  I don’t really have time to add meditation to my day.  Sitting still and doing nothing is not in my makeup. Five minutes at the end of yoga twice a week is my limit.  But then, the benefits of meditation is brought to my attention again and again through a another book or an article or a shared TED talk.  The moment I finally decided to research meditation was when my good friend and co-worker came into my office and announced that he’d been thinking about trying meditation.  My mouth dropped open in amazement.  This was not a person who I would ever expect to want to try to meditate. He is a busy man, a husband, father, an iconic leader in our community. He is not the character that I have construed as a meditator. Here was my sign to not let my curiosity of meditation be put on the back burner. I was now responsible for two people in need of meditation.

The first book I tried and am still slowly reading is “Real Happiness: The Power of Meditation”  This book is a good step by step, start it slow, guide to meditating; full of tips and helpful hints.  It starts with three days a week for 20 minutes each time.  I tried 5 minutes once and it did go fast.  There aren’t any strict rules.  Sit quietly and comfortably, set a timer, focus on your breathing. If thoughts come into your head, which they will, recognize them and then let them go.  That’s it.  Finding the time is the difficult part for me.  Really! Finding 20 minutes a day to sit and focus on your breathing.  Maybe get up 20 minutes earlier…… I am.  For the next month I will meditate for 20 minutes a day. I’ll let you know how it goes.  I will be your guinea pig, your science experiment.

The Wild About Books February Book selection is “10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in My Head, Reduced Stress without Losing my Edge and Found Self-Help that Actually Works-A True Story” by Dan Harris.  This is a memoir about an ABC news anchor who is very hypocritical about meditation and how he changes his ways and becomes a daily meditator.  I found the book to be very entertaining and a better introduction to meditating than “Real Happiness”.  I will be more ready to read “Real Happiness” once I finish Dan Harris’ book.  Interesting that both meditation books I’m reading have happiness in the title, although in Dan Harris’ book title it is meant to be comical.  What sold me on “10% Happier” was the NPR author interview “How a skeptic learned to love meditation” which I recommend you listen to; click here for the link to it.  Wait…..  Are you still reading?  Go back and listen to the NPR interview before you go on; it’s only 5 minutes, you have time.

See.  He’s funny too.  It’s a good read.  If you need more motivation to meditate, even if you don’t, I recommend you watch this TED Talk by Shawn Achor “The Happy Secret to Better Work” This too is very entertaining and this guy gives a 30 minute talk in 12 minutes.  In that 12 minutes you will learn to rewire your brain to work more optimistically and more successfully.

One more TED Talk to share with you and motivate you to meditate is by Matthieu Ricard, a Buddhist monk and happiness researcher, “How to let altruism be your guide” The message in this TED talk is how to implement sustainable harmony in our society.

Big shout out to my staff for finding and sharing the TED talks (thanks mom).  If you would like to see more Wild About Books monthly book selections or just browse the weekly blog post go to Wild About Books website.