cute

Recent Firsts

First Ride

Yesterday Jon and I rode in our first ride with the bicycling club. It was 25 km, with an intended average of 15-18 kph. There were probably 40-50 other riders. It was wonderfully cold when we started out, and I was thankful for our trip to MEC the day before to get geared up. As the ride progressed, the air warmed up, as did our bodies. The leaders pointed out interesting things along the way--a little cafe that looks like a couple of train cars where you can get lunch and watch the trains go by, a tea house, the amount of paved secondary roads in Strathcona County, etc. They also gave us tips for riding and a few riding etiquette bits. It was a slow ride, but it was so good to ride outside, instead of on a trainer. I think I'm hooked.

First Relinquish

Laurel and I have a little routine we go through when she wakes up, if she has her soother in her mouth. I pick her up and say something like, "Okay, we need to put your soother in your bed so that it's waiting for you the next time you go to sleep." Then I ask her a few times if she'll put it in the bed, and then if she'll give it to mommy. She never does, so I take it out and put it in her bed and we wave bye-bye to it. Last week she waved bye-bye to it before I even suggested she do so. Yesterday, when I asked if she would give it to me, she pulled it out of her mouth and put it in my hand. It sounds like a small thing, but it's just so cool to watch her taking in and understanding so much around her.

Why I Hate Alarms

A few months ago Jon and I were watching our friends' house while they were out of town. Usually Jon checked on things, so I didn't pay much attention to how to set the alarm. Well, one day it fell to me to go by myself. Jon relayed to me how to turn the alarm off when I got inside. It sounded easy. I did what I thought he told me to do. And then the alarm went off. I don't mean it turned off...I mean it WENT OFF. As in the loudest noise I could imagine blaring through the house. I frantically started pressing buttons and couldn't figure out how to shut it off. My heart raced, my palms began to sweat. I realized then and there that I am not the person you want with you in an emergency. I tried to call Jon, but it was like so many nightmares I've had where I press the phone buttons, but they don't work. Finally, I figured it out and got it turned off. And then the police called. I hate alarms.

Today I had to go to the church. We rent the building on Sunday nights from the congregation who owns it. I got the key from our pastor and he told me the security code to punch into the key pad to turn off and set the alarm. I unlocked the door, believing no one was there. I was ready to punch in the code. I turned to the wall where I believed the key pad was. Instead there was this large box with a long handle. hmmm. The key pad must be behind it. Of course, knowing my hate for alarms, I wasn't thinking clearly. I felt rushed. I had to punch this code in, stat! So, I grabbed the handle and turned it. The box didn't open. But someone did scream. Odd. I turned. On the next wall, not 3 feet from the box, was the key pad. It registered in my mind at about the same time it registered that someone had screamed. "Hello?" I called. Out came the secretary, saying that the power had just gone out. Hmmm. Could it be because I just turned the handle on the large box on the wall? Yes. Yes, that is exactly what happened. I cut the power to the church. I hate alarms.

Nine Months

Laurel Katherine is nine months old. Her days involve lots of play time (she loves the jolly jumper, standing up, and playing with her toys on her quilt), trying new foods (chick peas, mangoes, fruit smoothies, yams, and yogurt are some of her favorites), and nap time.

Here is a short video...a glimpse into playtime.

Discovered. Returned. Checked Out.

Discovered:

The first year we were married, Jon and I lived in Vancouver. Because of some random Canadian law, we discovered (at the border) that Jon could not drive my car unless I was in the car with him because it had US plates. We were told that if he got pulled over without me in the car, they could tow the car to the border and leave it in the States. All of this amounted to my needing to drive him to and from work. I got into a listening routine as I drove because, much to my delight, there was a certain stretch on Southwest Marine Dr. where the radio would pick up NPR. I only caught bits of programs, but I loved that I got to listen to it at all.

Now, because we live much farther from the border and thanks to the wonders of the internet, I occasionally listen to NPR podcasts. But in the past few years, I have discovered CBC. It's what we wake up to when the alarm goes off each morning. It's programmed into our car radio. And its podcasts might be quickly replacing NPR podcasts on my ipod. (Especially the Between The Covers podcasts, which are audiobooks by Canadian authors). But our most recent CBC discovery--and the one we are most excited about--is The Vinyl Cafe with Stuart McClean. How have I missed out on this for the past 8 years? Jon and I are quickly becoming addicted. The bad news is that they only have the four most recent episodes on itunes, so we have to wait until Saturday night to listen to another one. You should check it out. Seriously.

Returned:

Library books. They were due today. I didn't finish As I Lay Dying. It was my first (I'm ashamed to say) attempt at reading Faulkner. And I failed. I will try again. But not this week.

Checked Out:

Library books. Acedia & Me by Kathleen Norris. Who Do You Think You Are? by Alice Munro. Bel Canto by Ann Patchett.

Coming Soon...another video of our 9 month old!

First Lines

Pam is my sister-in-law. She and I share a love of words, knowing that well written words have the power to stir up laughter, reflection, and deep longings. Words can expose and heal hurts we didn't realize we carried. They can expand our imaginations, challenge our preconceptions, and offer the safe harbor of home.

Because of this love of words, Pam and I have undertaken a four month writing project. Each month we complete a different assignment, email it to each other, and then offer feedback. January's assignment was to write about a "first" we've experienced. In February, we wrote a poem. Now it's March, and the assignment is to write a short story. A month ago, I honestly believed that writing a poem would be the hardest assignment of the project. But now, with under two weeks left in the month, I am convinced that the short story is more difficult. My mind is blank. I can think of no story worth writing. Hasn't every story already been told?

To try to get started on this assignment, I did a little internet research on short stories. One website I found said that the first and last lines are the most important--they have to be great.

I've thought of some first lines of stories I know...

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth..."

"Call me Ishmael."

Well, those are the only two that I know off the top of my head. So, I grabbed a few books off of my bookshelf and looked at their first lines:

"By now the other warriors, those that had escaped head-long ruin by sea or in battle, were safely home."

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

"I am ninety. Or ninety-three. One or the other."

"In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since."

(Can you identify any of the above books without goggling them?)

Each of those lines written above make me want to keep reading the story. So, I've been trying to think of good first lines. I've all but given up thinking up a plot or characters--I just want a first line that a story will grow out of. I've had a few first lines pop into my head over the past few weeks...and I was about to share them with you...but then the phone rang, and I talked for 30 minutes, and then Laurel woke up and wanted to eat...and I've come to my senses and decided not to share my first lines. And, to be honest, I'm not sure I remember any of them.

So...the clock continues to tick...the pressure is on...I need to write a short story.

I am reminded of something I had hanging on my wall in college, written on a piece of notebook paper, copied from some poem or story we had read...

"'Fool,' said my muse to me, 'look in thy heart and write!'"

Gearing Up

Even though there is a threat of snow, spring is in the air. And with spring, come hopes of summer. One of our summer hopes is to ride in a three day bike trip with Jon's sisters and their husbands (and a whole bunch of other people we don't know). The trip is a fundraiser for Southern Alberta Bible Camp and, we are told, will take us from Canmore, AB to Lethbridge, AB, which is about 350 km (depending on the route). I was an English major, not a math major, but even I can figure out that this trip will mean over 100 km of riding a day. What this means, basically, is that I need to get my riding butt in gear!

To that end, Jon and I have joined the Edmonton Bicycling and Touring Club. And can I just tell you that I am excited about this? Through the EBTC, we have signed up for a Cycling 101 course, which will not only get us out on our bikes, but will also teach us some of the basics about bikes, bike maintenance, riding, etc. And, I am tentatively signed up for a series of rides called Train for the Tour. The "Tour" is the Tour de l'Alberta, a one day ride that takes cyclists through some French towns in rural Alberta about the time that some other big ride is taking cyclists through some French towns in, well, France. We haven't signed up for the Tour, itself, yet, but I have officially added it to my list of things I'd like to do this summer.

I currently have my bike on a stationary trainer in our front room. I've been trying to ride 5 days a week for about the past month. Some days I do 30 minutes, some days 50. It's a good start. But let's be honest--I need a whole lot more pedaling under my feet to be ready for the bike trip in June.

Right now I am optimistic, imagining how great this will all be. But I know there will be moments, perhaps many, on the road when I will have the same thought I distinctly remember having during labor: "This is crazy. Whose idea was this??"

I'll keep you posted on my progress.

A Good Day

It has been beautiful here lately. Even the second half of February was nice, which was a delightful surprise. Yesterday it was 9 degrees (Celsius), and we had a wonderful day. We started the day by trying a new bakery. As seems to be the case with the little places we love around here, there were no empty tables. So, we took our lemon blueberry scone, our orange chocolate scone, our hot chocolate (for Jon), and our latte (for me) and drove around a neighborhood we love. We ended up finding a place to sit outside that overlooked the river. There is something so good about breakfast outside, when the air is warm and the snow is starting to melt.

That afternoon, we took a walk in the river valley. It was a day that just wouldn't allow us to be inside--when we got home from our walk, we sat on the front step and talked and watched the cars go by. Maybe I've become a pessimist, but I am not holding out hope that winter is gone and spring is here to stay--I suppose I've been disappointed too many times! But I am soaking in every minute of warm weather that we get, trying to live in the moment, no matter what may come tomorrow.

Last night, we got Laurel to bed and pondered how we should spend our evening. Jon was generous enough to indulge me in a few rounds of Boggle. Then we did what most young people do on a Saturday night...we broke open a jigsaw puzzle, poured ourselves some root beer (because it doesn't have caffeine and wouldn't keep us up), got out the pretzels, and it was a party! Seriously. If this is our idea of fun in our mid-thirties, think of how crazy we'll be when we're 60!