I once got an email forward (don’t you love it when people forward you things so you, personally, can delete them?) saying that Ernest Hemingway once wrote a fictional story in six words:
“For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”
The email then asked you to write your life story in six words and pass it on. At the time I figured mine would be something like, “I can’t say no to fun.” or “Life is fantastic. I’m loving it.” I didn’t think about it long before deleting the email.
However, just now, approximately five-to-seven years later, I decided what mine would be:
My mom is the most amazing woman I know. She is an incredibly intelligent and funny woman whose never-ending love and warmth inspire me. I am so grateful for her in my life – not only as a parent but as my confidante, my fashion consultant and my partner in crime. I hope to someday grow up to be like her.
Pego and Mego – December 2007
Happy Mother’s Day, Mama. Thanks for being so wonderful.
First to knit sweaters for two white teddy bears to give to my baby cousins Molly:
And Eamon:
(Eamon is not actually a teddy bear. I gave his bear to his parents after he’d gone to bed, so I didn’t get a photo of him WITH the bear…)
This was the perfect first project, because it didn’t require unknown sizing. I had the teddy bears in my possession so I could make sure the sweaters fit. Knitting sweaters for the babies themselves would not have been so easy.
For my next project I decided to try out my sizing abilities and make hats for Galen’s niece and nephew:
I took photos of the hats beforehand because I had no idea if they were the right size or if Mateo and Natalia would even like them. When I did give them to the kids, Mateo seemed pretty excited about his hat, but Natalia didn’t seem wild about the idea of someone forcing her to wear something on her head. I didn’t mind at all (nor did I blame her) – I was happy Mateo liked his and VERY pleased that both hats fit.
Anyway, last week when I was visiting them, Mateo wanted to play pirates. Which required his pirate hat:
“ARRRRGH!”
“Please stop taking pictures of me.”
Not only did it fit… it was useful!
I’ve got a few other projects in the works right now… I’ll probably post ‘em on here when they’re done.
Until a few months ago, you and I didn’t know each other very well. I knew that you didn’t observe Daylight Savings Time and that you were one of the last states to approve the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday (don’t worry, New Hampshire, I haven’t forgotten you). You probably knew me as just some girl from Montana who never came to visit and always rooted against your teams in the Pac-10 Conference. I knew there were definitely good parts about you… I’ve had a few friends who attended ASU and lived in the area. Plus, my former roommate of 4 years is from Nogales, so I heard some things. Then a good friend moved from Portland to Phoenix this spring and I visited Scottsdale to see a few Spring Training games with Galen’s family. We were off to a pretty good start.
Until last week. Now, the only things I can think of when I hear your name are “racial profiling” and “birther crazies.”
Now, before I get started on the immigration front, let me first state this very important disclaimer: I have never lived in a state bordering Mexico, and thus, do not fully understand what it’s like. Where I come from, we have Canada to the north, and they’re more like a cool older brother who plays hockey and lives in the basement apartment, where he comes and goes as he pleases. We don’t hang out all the time, but we’re buddies and we vacation together. Sometimes Canada buys us beer even though we’re underage. It’s cool.
Mexico seems to be like a younger stepbrother who doesn’t live by anybody else’s rules. I know from experience that this can prove frustrating. I am trying to be compassionate.
But I really think there are better ways to deal with this. I just keep thinking… What if the illegal immigrants you were dealing with were from Canada? Or Croatia via Mexico? THEN what would you do? Because whatever your answer to that question is, I bet it’s a much better approach than this law. Anything that involves looking at the color of a person’s skin and then determining how you’re going to react based on that color is inherently racist.
Please be clear – I am not saying that illegal immigration isn’t a problem, because I don’t know that. I am neither experienced nor informed on the matter.
I also don’t want to lay full blame on you, Arizona. I understand that there is a bigger issue here (the need for immigration reform) that needs to be addressed on a national scale. The national government needs to give you a real, proactive solution instead of creating reactive programs that allow laws like yours to pass. If this was your way of rebelling to get attention, it may just have worked.
But the ends do not justify the means.
Then there’s this birth certificate business. I have a few opinions on the matter, but most of them are summed up in this video of Anderson Cooper taking one of your State Representatives to task:
To put it plainly, Arizona, reacting to false allegations by creating laws to PROVE they are false is the wrong answer. Your elected officials serve as fact checkers for their constituents. Thus, allowing laws such as this to pass is doing the people of Arizona a disservice. Your congressmen are abusing their positions by using their authority to help spread false information. All that is needed to put this issue to rest is for every representative or senator in every district to publicly state the truth. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.
Also, and I’m surprised you don’t already know this, crazy people who believe lies to be truth can never be convinced otherwise. The people who believe that Barack Obama was not born in the US will not rest until that false statement is proven true, which will never happen. They will never be convinced of the truth.
Don’t get me wrong – I understand that bad things sometimes happen in good states. My home state of Montana, for instance, which I love dearly, is known for providing a nice home in the woods for the Unabomber. Nobody ever mentions that Montana also elected the first woman to congress or served as the birthplace for the lead singer of the Decemberists.
And that’s one of the many reasons I will not be partaking in any sort of boycott. I understand you’re not all bad. I also don’t think an Arizona boycott would be felt by the people who really need to hear a strong message.
But I do want you to know that not all press is good press. And your rebellion has not gone unnoticed. It took us Montanans years to get over the Unabomber image – be prepared for a long redemption period yourself.
As for you and me, Arizona? I’m screening my calls at the moment. I’m not saying we’re through, but you’ve got some grovelling to do.
When I tell people I’m going to visit Galen in Umatilla for the weekend, they often ask me what we do there. I tell them that we usually spend a lot of time on the couch watching sports or movies, sleeping in and going out for meals in nearby Hermiston. Sometimes he’ll have a project or errands we’ll do together, but they’re mostly low-key weekends. I really like it – it’s nice to have down time every once in a while.
But we also try to get the true North-Central Oregon “Experience” as often as possible. Last summer we were two of the most enthusiastic participants in Umatilla Landing Days (note: actually only lasts one day) and have since attended a library/city hall grand opening (yep – same building) and explored the so-called “Nature Trails” the Army Corps of Engineers built by the banks of the Columbia (details for another post). We’ve even driven to Pendleton to visit the Pendleton Woolen Mills and hope to pick some Hermiston watermelons this summer.
So this past weekend, Galen suggested we drive up to Tri-Cities to check out their Indoor Football League team, the Fever. He noted that they would be facing off against the Outlaws from Billings, MT. I was obviously going to be rooting on the Fever.
For those of you who don’t know what makes IFL football different from the football you’re used to, here’s what you need to know:
the field is 50 yards long by 28 yards wide.
“dasher boards” made of high-density foam mark the sidelines, which helps remind the crowd that this field has a day job as a hockey rink
the goal posts are skinnier (10 feet wide by 20 feet tall) and hung from the arena ceiling
each team may have one coach on the field during play (but not IN play, obviously). I’m assuming this is because they can’t pace anywhere else.
kickoffs are made from the goal line
each team has 8 players on the field
field goals are still 3 points, but drop-kick field goals are 4 points
So, you know, pretty much like the weirdest, most foreign and fake-looking version of football you can think of. You half expect Mickey Mouse to be out there in a jersey. But that’s where you’re in for a treat:
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you: Torch!
Yep, the Fever’s mascot is a giant football with arms and legs, wearing a Fever jersey and a ‘do rag with flames on it. I combined these two photos to try to give you an idea of his dancing, but there’s really no way to describe a dancing football with T-Rex arms and a permanent open-mouthed scowl – you just have to see it for yourself. Galen and I took about 18 photos of Torch because everything he did was amazing.
Then we decided we needed to meet him. We chased him around the stadium for about 15 minutes. It was sort of like a real-world version of Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? We were asking people if they’d seen him and following their leads. Occasionally we’d pop into the stadium to search for him and try to get to wherever he was – but he somehow disappeared as soon as we got there. When we finally found him, he was walking away from us and we didn’t know how to get his attention. He had some sort of handler or agent with him, so I said, “Hey, guys!” But they didn’t hear me. I looked to Galen for help, but he was clearly starstruck and unable to speak. I tried again. “Hey… Torch!” He turned around.
The reason I chose this race when I was making my new year’s resolution was because it combined two of my favorite parts of Portland – awesome bridges and delicious craft beer. Needless to say, it’s called “Bridge to Brews.” Basically, the route is from the Widmer brewery (a few blocks from my apartment), over the Freemont/I-405 Bridge, through Northwest Portland and back over the Broadway Bridge to the brewery. Running over the Freemont bridge was especially cool because it’s not pedestrian-accessible normally. They stopped traffic for us!
I had originally decided my goal for today would be to finish the race in under 70 minutes. Then I realized that if I kept the same pace I did in the 5k last month, I should have been able to finish in 65 minutes, so I made that my new goal. The final scores aren’t available online yet, but I’m pretty sure I finished the race in just under an hour. Which means I not only beat my goal, but I held a faster pace this time on a much more difficult (and more uphill!) course.
Before:
Galen and Mego
After:
Jess and Mego
Needless to say, I’m feeling pretty good about myself today. My legs are a different story, but hey, it was worth it. There were definitely points during the race when I realized I was actually feeling good. “Enjoying myself” seems a bit strong… But I definitely felt good and didn’t really want to stop for most of the race. Which is exactly what I never thought I would feel. So I consider this a win.
What’s next? I’m hoping to continue running a few times a week, but just for a half hour or so. Then maybe I’ll do a couple 5k’s every year to keep it up. The 8k was a great goal, but I think I’m more of a 5k girl. This has given me SO MUCH respect for my friends who have done marathons, relays and triathlons that put my race to shame. I won’t be signing up for Hood to Coast anytime soon, but I’m happy to have made it to a place where running doesn’t sound like the worst form of punishment possible.
Remember back when I was in the market for a hammock? Well, at the end of a fabulous Craigslist tale, in which I embarked upon a trek through Vancouver, Washington, with only a cell phone to guide me, I somehow ended up with a $100 camping hammock WITH STAND for only $20. Since then, sunny days have been hard to come by, until today:
A hammock, a book, a beer and a leftover sandwich that my friend Amanda left in my fridge last week. A perfect evening.
Do you see that, Internet? IT’S MY SHADOW! Do you have any idea how exciting it is to see your shadow after all these months of gloom and rain and clouds? Right after this photo was taken, I ran back into my apartment like Punxsutawney Phil.
(It was a little chilly when the sun went behind the clouds, so I brought a blanket. Okay, it’s not exactly warm right now, just sunny. But when you’ve been in hibernation for 3 months, you take what you can get.)
I just got back from a trip to Phoenix with Galen and his family to catch some Spring Training action. Thus, I bring you my top five favorite things about Spring Training:
I don’t know what it is about Single Ladies by Beyonce that is so catchy, but it’s a great song. The funniest thing, though, is how many kids I know (or stories about kids I’ve heard or videos about kids I’ve seen) that LOVE to dance to that song. I think that’s why this one makes so much sense.
Megolomania (from the Greek word μεγoλομανία) is a historical term for behavior characterized by the delusional belief that a blog about one’s life is of interest to others – often generally termed as delusions of grandeur.
