Culture Shock

We're home! Here are my observations about three weeks in a foreign culture ...

1. They say that, in high altitude, it is important to “stay hydrated.” In Colorado, all you do is drink water (hydrate) and pee (dehydrate). With an adequate supply of Aquafina and a couple of cookies, there would be no reason to leave the bathroom.
2. In Colorado, people throw away glass. Right into the garbage. Pop cans, too. It’s painful for an Oregonian. It’s like watching people throw money into the sewer.
3. In Colorado, it actually rains. Big, cold drops that will get your skin wet right through your clothes. The rain is accompanied by glorious blasts of lightning (one night, it looked like somebody was taking flash photographs outside) and cracks of thunder. People in Colorado actually ask "Do you think it's gonna rain?" before deciding whether or not an activity is worth doing.
4. Every single place in Breckenridge has an incredible view. Fast food joints. Parking lots. Bathrooms.
5. Why does my $.99 pop cost $1.07? Oh yeah. Sales tax. On everything. Bottled water. Video rentals. Bottled water. Diapers. Bottled water. Jars of sesame seeds.
6. At 10,000 feet, the air is so thin, climbing a flight of stairs is as breathtaking as climbing a mountain. I can’t imagine how people manage to climb mountains up here.
7. I miss my bathrobe. I know this has nothing to do with the culture of Colorado, but it has a lot to do with the culture of me, and keeping my culture warm in the morning, and I’m never taking a vacation without it again.
8. In the state of Colorado, there are 14 kerjillion pine trees, and not a single inch of shaded hiking trail.
9. In Oregon, you can buy organic whole wheat flour, spelt flour, quinoa flour, and a whole mess of other exotic crushed grains. In Colorado, your pantry is stocked with “Hungarian High Altitude Flour.” Huh?
10. Even the bears know that Thursday is trash day.
11. I’ve seen motorcyclists without helmets. I think it’s been a decade since I’ve seen a motorcyclist without a helmet. Fortunately, in Colorado, the roads are immaculately maintained and pothole free.
12. You can’t throw a stick around here without finding a magnificent place to hike. Most likely, that stick will be fetched by a friendly, slobbery dog. I like it. It kind of reminds me of home.

New and Improved

Look for 2 new features on our blog here:
1. Link du jour
(thanks for the idea Derek & Lesley)
Where we pass along a random selection of interesting links.
This is too over the top to be troublesome, but funny anyway: ACLU Pizza
Boy this is a real time killer! Collective drawing
Solo art this time and a more creative time killer - Mr Picasso Head

2. I Love my Neighborhood!
Where we tell you about happenings in our neighborhood that are a little different and amuse us.
- It's only our neighborhood for a little bit, but while we are here in Breckenridge, we live at the top of a very steep dirt road. The other day we saw a man jogging up the hill with a fist full of flowers.
- In Portland, on our neighborhood's main drag, we have a person who sells peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from his/her 2nd story apartment window. When "open" they hang a basket down to street level advertising PB&J for a $1. Pull on the rope to ring the bell for service. For a while they had a tiny radio in a tin can also hanging down to attract attention.
- Also in Portland we walked by someone who wanted to sell his electronic piano keyboard. He chained it to the fence on the sidewalk, set it on a table with a stool, and invited people to play. If you wanted to buy, knock on the door and make an offer. On our second time by, someone was playing.
- Before we left for our trip, we accidentally let 3 zucchinis grow to monstrous size. We were leaving, so we couldn't indulge in the fabulous chocolate zucchini cake recipie we have, so I printed up three copies, tied them to each zuchinni, and put them out front with a sign. They were gone before dinnertime. Yum!

We get 10%

Some of you read; some of you write. Some of you do both. Here's your big chance to win books!
(we won't insist on 10% if all you get is the mouspad!).

By the way, if you plan to buy books from Powells, you should go to the site through Wrigley's preschool website. The preschool gets a cut from your sale when you enter Powells from Hawthorne Family Playschool.

Whose?

It takes a while to load, but most everyone can find this amusing.
This Land Parody
 
 

The Curse of Imagination

We went on a great hike today - along the Blue River (we think) to the shores of Lake Dillon. We tossed sticks and stones in the river, pretended to be bears, and enjoyed a picnic lunch while watching fly fishermen toil. (In our many trips to the lake, we have seen plenty of fishermen, but not a single fish. Huh.)
 
We have been blessed with heavy afternoon rains for the past couple of days, so the river was running cold, high, and fast. None of us were foolhardy enough for any serious wading, but it was fun to toss sticks in and watch them ride the current (Xtreme Pooh Sticks, as it were). Wrig would put her toes right at the edge of the bank, balancing precariously while holding a huge stick above her head, then lurch her entire body weight forward to throw. All I could picture was her losing her balance, tumbling into the cold water, and racing downstream, bouncing off rocks while wailing for help.
 
My imagination is often filled with pictures like this. In each and every one - the falling from great heights movie, the being taken by a stranger movie - I am forced to try to visualize my own reaction: what would I do to help? What am I ready/able to do to protect my daughter? The answer is always the same: not much. I hate those damn movies.
 
I know, I know. The imagination is also responsible for the other movies. The ones where she graduates college and wins athletic events and finds a boyfriend whose knuckles don't scrape the ground. But today, while watching clear water tumble over sharp rock, it wasn't the wind that gave me the shivers. 

Archaeology

We've been spending a lot of time on the shores of Lake Dillon this week, which means we've been picking up other people's garbage here and there. The other day, Christie unearthed a pull-top from an old pop can. I was a little surprised to see that some company was still making pull tops, but not surprised to see one littered on the beach. Before we left, Christie found another pull-top. "You know what this is about?" she asked. "It's the drought. The water is at 80% of normal - these are probably 20 years old."
 
Who knew going to the lake was going to be an archaeological experiment?

And So It Begins ...

W: Daddy, maybe one day we can buy a dog.
D: No, Wrig. We won't be buying a dog.
W: Well, maybe we can buy another cat. When Marble. When Marble. Decides she doesn't want to live with us anymore.
D: Yes, sweetie, I think that is likely to happen.

Henceforth, all books featuring anything resembling a canine are banned from the house.

Junkie

Christie is addicted Ricolla Mints (only 69 cents at your local Trader Joe's!). Just like any parent, she has passed her addiction on to Wrigley. Any time Wrig sees Christie chomping on a mint, any time Wrig even smells a mint, she asks, "Christie, can I have a big piece of your mint?"

Yesterday, tragedy struck. While waiting for the bus, Wrig asks, "Mommy, would you like a mint?" (which is, of course, quickly followed by, "Can I have a big piece?" Mom said sure, so Wrig dug through our bag to find the box. Which was. EMPTY. Horror of horrors.

I asked Wrig if she wanted to go with me to throw the box away, but she decided she wanted to eat pretend mints. Moments later, she offered Mommy a pretend mint. When she accepted, Wrig asked,

"Can I have a big piece of your pretend mint?"