That Time of the Year

The trees are bare, the frost is thick every morning, and the snow has yet to fly in earnest; it's that awkward time of year between seasons where fall is on its way out but winter hasn't officially begun.  Once Thanksgiving is over, Christmas always seems to sneak up on me.  December is the shortest month of the year in my book, whatever the calendar says, especially coupled with the incredibly short days.  Then again, I could be up in Alaska like some people I know...

This year we decided to go out and find ourselves a real honest-to-goodness Christmas tree.  The Christmas cactus served its purpose well last time, but since we've been established here for an entire year (what a scary thought!), we figured it was time to revisit some family traditions.  Namely, sneaking out into the woods in search of the perfect tree.  We loaded the whole family into the trusty, rusty Subaru and headed up into the hills.

Luna's been on a couple hikes before, but this was her first cross-country adventure.  She was in hog heaven, following at Bubba's heels and proudly coming around to show me all the interesting things she found (rusty cans, sticks, pine cones...).  At one point I remembered the camera that was still sitting in the car, and she accompanied me on a brisk trot to the vehicle and back.  When she gets a little bigger she's going to be the perfect marathon-training partner.  Before long we found a good looking arboreal specimen.

 Carl went to town with the hacksaw and made quick work of it.

 A proud hunter with his catch.

 It was a lovely day out in the woods.

 Once we got the tree home the fun really began.  You wouldn't think it would be that hard to find a container that would successfully hold both tree and water; neither did we, and that's where we were painfully wrong.  After three tries, water spilled, obscenities hurled, and a tree chucked off the back porch, a good old pickle jar came to the rescue and saved Christmas.  A very happy holiday season to all!

A Very Furry Thanksgiving

A very happy post-turkey day to everyone!  The Ashland Funny Farm celebrated the holiday with a road trip to the far reaches of Edmunds, WA, Luna's first since coming home.  It's a good thing we left the chickens at home because they wouldn't have fit in Carl's new Golf TDI.  Thank goodness for roof boxes, or we wouldn't have either.

Our first stop was my folks' house in Lake Oswego.  Luna was thrilled to see their beagles again; the beagles were far less excited to see her.  While there Carl was kind enough to humor my nerdiness and accompany me to the Body Worlds exhibit at OMSI.  I was like a little kid in a candy store - "Look, there's the sciatic nerve passing through the piriformis!"  "Check out the nuchal ligament!"  "See, that's the SI joint I keep talking about".  Carl had the grace to just smile and nod, and even ask the occasional question.  Our favorite body was the drawer man, who had sections that were peeled open and punched out so you could see how everything fit together.  The giraffe was a close second - did you know they have the same number of vertebrae in their necks as humans do?  Or that their heart is bigger than a basketball?  It's crazy the things you can see once the skin comes off.

On Thanksgiving day we loaded up the pair of Volkswagons with two dogs, six people, and numerous crates of food, and slogged up I-5 to Edmunds to meet the rest of the Hayes clan.  Carl's friend Eric, newly arrived to Corvallis, OR, somehow let himself get roped in to the whole affair as our guest of honor.  We decided that flannel shirts were our theme of the day, and showed up at my Aunt Ruth's doorstep festooned in plaid and bearing delectable things to eat.

There were 13 people and 5 dogs (which means almost as many canine legs as human ones), lots of eating, drinking, and making merry; all in all, a very successful holiday.  Even though I remembered my camera, somehow I only seem to have pictures of fuzzy family members (beards and mustaches excluded).  Funny how that happens.  We were all very impressed with Luna - at 14 weeks she is an incredibly calm and well-behaved puppy.  I'm giving her all the credit.  Bubba and Luna got to share a bed at the hotel, and were both wiped out after a big day.

 The next morning dawned cold and clear, with the Olympics out in all their glory.

 The Kingston ferry headed out.

 Puppy dogs playing in the sand.

 Friday we turned around and did the road trip all over again.  Good thing Bubba and Luna are such good travelers.

 Don't make me pull this car over, kids!

It was wonderful to see everyone, and eat good food with good people, but it's always nice to be home.  I hope everyone had a very merry Thanksgiving - into the holiday season we go!

Fall!

Autumn arrived suddenly about a month ago, shifting gears to crisp sunny days and ever colder nights.  Last week we had our first deep frost and that seemed to be the cue for all the brilliantly bedecked trees to give up the fight and drop their drawers.  I walked out the front door to find a carpet of leaves burying the driveway and front yard, not to mention Carl's car.  The dogs and I spent some quality time raking.

With the cooler weather has come snow in them thar hills, and we decided there's no time like the present to introduce Luna to that wonderful white stuff.  Seeing as her front paws are currently twice the size of her back ones, she's perfectly equipped.  Bubba showed her the way and she had no reservations about jumping right in.

 Bubba strikes a pose with Mt. Shasta in the background.

 Luna taking flight in pursuit of snow balls.  I think she's part panther.

 On the prowl...at 3 months of age she weighs in at 14 lbs 2 oz.  They grow up so fast!

 Carl chucking snow balls for Bubba, who seems to be doing his best "Jaws" impression.

 Luna getting in on the fun.

 With this crew there was no way I'd emerge unscathed.  Giving Luna some lovin'.

Banzai!

 Back at home, my wonderful mother sent along a gift for Carl - his very own man-apron, or "mapron", as he prefers to call it.  One has to look good while grilling, after all.

Find the Puppy

They did this of their own volition, I swear.

Daily Dose of Doggie Doings

In the spirit of Halloween, I figured I would share this photo of the dogs wrestling on the couch.  Bubba is the sweetest dog you'll ever meet, but he puts his game face on to play with Luna.  At times he looks just like an angry grizzly bear.

 After a long hike in the mountains, both pups were tuckered out.  The little one loves snuggling up to her big brother, and once she's done chewing on his face he doesn't mind a bit.

By Popular Demand...

....Namely, my mother.  But who doesn't love cute puppy pictures?

Luna decided my pillow was way more comfortable than her bed.  My tasty face was just a bonus.

Awww....

Somehow the little dog manages to take up the majority of the bed.

Bubba's still not quite sure what to make of the interloper.

Just look at that little face....

...And that big droopy one.

Puppy love!

My Pillow Has the Hiccups

I thought I might just post these pictures and call it good, but my fan base is getting antsy for something a little more satisfying than that.  Carl often asks me how I survived without a dog for so many years (as in the eternity between leaving home and the fateful summer day when I walked off the ferry into Bubba's life).  It's wonderful to come home to that goofy face every day, and now we've doubled the furry fun with our newest addition.  We'd talked about getting another dog while Bubba is still in his prime, in the hopes his amazing temperament and personality would rub off on it.  Somehow I convinced the landlords that adding another couple pounds of dog to the house really wouldn't be that big a deal, and the next thing you know I'm picking out a puppy of my very own.  Her name is Luna, she's half black lab and half Australian shepherd, and she's smart enough to be a whole lot of trouble.  Not to mention pretty darn cute.

Bubba is still getting used to the idea of being a big brother.  He sends us long-suffering looks every so often, wondering what possessed us to mess with the status quo.

Just look at that face...how could I say no?

Luna is only allowed on the couch when she's completely exhausted and has no energy left for shenanigans (which takes some doing).  She views Bubba as her personal jungle gym - last night she wiggled in under his chin and draped herself over his legs.  Bubba, the amazing dog that he is, just sighed and looked the other way.

In other exciting news, my brief visit to Portland coincided with that of my sister Sarah, down from the great frozen wastes of central Alaska.  With the powers of our persuasiveness combined we convinced my mother that it was a really good idea for us to get matching tattoos together.  Despite dithering the entire ride to the shop, I'm proud to say that my mother went through with it and got her first tattoo ever.  It was Sarah's first one as well; although Mom will probably stop there, I bet my sister ends up with a line of sled dogs running across her low back by spring.  The winter nights are long and cold up there in Alaska and I've heard these things can be addictive...

South of the Border

 Southern Oregon is a funny place, in oh so many ways.  In particular I'm thinking of my tendency to wander all over the state, for hours on end, in almost any direction but south.  That direction leads to the strange, foreign land of California, which is obviously another world despite the fact that it's only 18 miles away.  There's a perceived barrier that halts my imagination in its tracks when casting around for the next adventurous destination.

This weekend we decided to cross that barrier and head south to see what we could find.  Mt. Shasta is visible from many of the peaks around here, and we got the chance to see it up close and personal.  We took a quick tour through the town of Weed (named after its founder Abner Weed, but now rife with hilarious connotations) and stopped at the brewery there for lunch.  There were a lot of empty store fronts on Main Street, a couple of tacky shops on the highway selling "I Heart Weed" shirts, and a surprisingly nice community college.  The brewery was quiet but delicious.

On down the road we headed into the town of Mt. Shasta, its namesake looming in the background.  There's a healthy population of hippies and wealthy retirees, somewhat like Ashland, and it made for some good people watching.  The forest service office there provided us with some fodder for future excursions, before driving up the mountain to see what it was all about.  Mt. Shasta towers over its neighboring peaks at 14,179 ft, making it especially striking since the valley floor is only 3,000 ft.  There's a wilderness area covering much of the peak above 10,000 feet but since Bubba couldn't read the signs it wasn't a problem.  The road dead-ends at the old ski area, empty now except for the parking lot, a couple trail signs, and some hippie rock art.

From there we took the back way to the active ski area, which was kind of disappointing given the terrain we were looking at.  We may have to make our way back in the winter anyway, just for the fun of it.  By the time we headed back north the clouds had cleared from the peak and I was able to convince Carl to pull over so I could get a picture of it.

Even though the autumn solstice is fast approaching, there's still plenty of time for adventures before the snow flies.  We've had only two traces of measurable precipitation since June and there's nothing in the forecast anytime soon.  Our goal is to fit at least one backpacking trip in this year, however short and sweet.  I'll keep you posted.

Things Are Getting Real...

Yes, it's true, summer vacation is over and it's time to face the real world.  No matter that temperatures are still in the high 80s and the tomatoes haven't ripened yet.  Days are getting shorter, the sun sits lower in the sky, and I've got myself a real honest-to-goodness job.  That's right, I've joined the ranks of the gainfully employed as a licensed massage therapist.  I'm working at Balanced Massage, a clinic up in Medford that focuses on therapeutic and deep tissue work, and so far it seems like a really good fit.

I wasn't supposed to start work until this week, when the gal I'm filling in for was scheduled to go on maternity leave, but she ended up going into labor on Friday.  Needless to say, I got to jump right in to her busy schedule, and thankfully no one seemed too upset by the fact that I wasn't her.  She gave birth to a healthy baby boy that night, and they're both doing fine.  My system is still in shock from dishing out five massages in one day; my hands and forearms are a little sore, but give me another month of this and I'll challenge anyone to arm wrestling.

So here's the next great adventure.  I get to experience all the joys and frustrations of building up a clientele, figuring out the best way to get stubborn muscles to relax, and becoming the most popular massage therapist in town (just kidding on that last one).  Oh, and living in the same place with the same person for a whole entire year.  That hasn't happened since high school; I've still got a couple months to go before it's official but just the idea of it is scarily grown up.  I guess that goes along with the multiplying gray hairs on my head...

The Hayes Family Goes to the Beach

There's nothing like those hot, hazy, stifling days of summer to make you pack up the furry kid and some gin and tonic materials, and head for the coast. That, and a massive family reunion. We made a stop over in Portland first, to eat delicious Thai food, watch the mania of the Timbers' Army cheering on their soccer team, and provide cheap labor for my mother's dessert factory. Then it was up Hwy 217 and west out 26 to the northern Oregon coast. I'm not sure who was responsible for booking this family madness during the busiest weekend of the year in Seaside, but our clan joined the 50,000 other folks descending on this town of 6,188 for the culmination of the Hood to Coast Relay. Like the name says, the "biggest relay in the world" starts at Mt. Hood and winds up in downtown Seaside 200 miles later.

We managed to avoid most of the people, even when we visited Cannon Beach to fulfill Carl's dream of recreating "The Goonies". That man has a mean truffle shuffle. We found plenty of kelp to fling for Bubba, who probably ran his own equivalent of the Hood to Coast over the course of the weekend.
My Aunt Ruth found a rental to hold most of our immediate clan, and there was an amazing view off the back porch. It was just the place for sipping cool drinks, soaking up the sun, and keeping track of Hurricane Irene's path of destruction up the East Coast. Just another reason why the West Coast is the best coast.
The house was built in the 40's and had a funky floor plan with lots of unnecessary stairs.
At the reunion, shaking hands with relatives I haven't laid eyes on in years, I was bombarded with the consistent greeting, "Nice to see you! So how are the chickens?" To fulfill everyone's curiosity, here's the latest on the little feathered cluckers:

At five months old, the ladies are fully feathered and starting to figure out their purpose of producing eggs. The Fury and Erica are both laying the cutest little eggs you ever did see, while Brendina seems to be a bit slower to catch on. I did find an egg without a shell this morning, so maybe she's getting it; part of it, anyway. Carl still enjoys communing with the girls. I believe that's Erica on his lap, in time-out for trying to peck his toes.
Here they are in all their chicky glory: Erica, Brendina, and the Fury.
And us? Oh, we're just fine.

Whew...

...it's been one heck of a week. On Monday I got the go-ahead for Lasik surgery to fix my eyes, Wednesday I went under the laser, then Friday we headed over to Union Creek for the night before I ran a half marathon at Crater Lake on Saturday. It's no wonder I slept in this morning.

The Lasik is something I've been thinking about for a while but never really had the guts to go through with. It finally seemed like the right time and the right place. The surgery itself only took about 20 minutes and I was awake the whole time. Carl even got to watch the procedure through the large viewing windows and TV screen on the wall. He said it was pretty crazy watching the surgeon carefully pull aside the flaps created in my corneas, and then squeegee them back down afterwards. I got a front row seat for all that. I just pretended I was watching a trippy movie with lots of intense lights and weird sounds; the Valium helped with the disassociation. The next day I was able to drive myself to my post-op appointment.

Having worn contacts for the past 14 years, being able to see without anything on my face doesn't feel that foreign. But then I realize that I'm not even wearing contacts, that there's nothing between me and the world, and I start grinning like an idiot. It's a pretty amazing experience.

Surgery on Wednesday was no hindrance to running a race on Saturday. Since Crater Lake is a two hour drive away, we opted to spend the night at Union Creek Resort, nestled in the thick dark woods by the upper Rogue River. Before dinner we went to check out the Natural Bridge, which is a section of river that flows through an old lava tube, and the Rogue River Gorge, a chasm formed when the roof of that lava tube collapsed. This is the outlet of the river from running underground.

I thought this sign was particularly hilarious. Oh please feed the animals, we're just worried about their cholesterol. As long as it's not salty it's okay.
Looking up into the Rogue River Gorge, all basalt rock covered in ferns and moss.
Next morning we were up before the sun to make the trek up to Crater Lake. The race day instructions were rather vague so I wanted to be there in plenty of time. We were. It did give us the opportunity to watch the sun rise over the crater rim.
Carl and Bubba were the best support team ever. There was one lane of traffic open so they could position themselves for cheering and photographic opportunities, then race ahead again to find another spot. Bubba acted as the lookout.
Still smiling at mile 5 as I dump a layer.
Stopping by later on for some Bubba lovin'.

It's funny how small this world is. While milling around at the starting area I ran into two guys I went to college with who live up in Portland, Nick Benjamin and Dan Dunning. Funny enough, they were also there to do some running. Nick is an athletic freak of nature and disappeared way out front, but I caught up with Dan and his friend Adrian, and ran with them for a stretch before leaving them behind on the hill. I didn't get the memo about a pink shirt.
Running with the gorgeous lake in the background, more than halfway through.
Coming in to the finish line - I caught that girl in the last 20 feet or so after a four mile uphill climb. Mt. Thielsen is in the background.
Finished! I was blown away by my time of 2:09:19, averaging just under a 10 minute mile on a course that ran between 5800 ft and 7800 ft above sea level with several big climbs. I was 6th in my age bracket (20-29), and 54th out of 141 runners. All that training really paid off. Special thanks to my support team - I couldn't have done it without you guys!
On our arrival back home we found another treat waiting for us - our very first egg! One of those silly chickens finally figured out what it was meant for. Now we just need the rest of them to catch on.
...yup, one heck of a week.