Kathryn and Paul

Welcome Back, Paul!

Kathryn — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 02:01:06 +0000

Paul has decided to move his current blog over to this one. This means a couple of things:

The name of the blog is no longer erroneous.
This blog has automatically and instantaneously become wittier, more intellectually minded, better written and just more interesting overall.
There was blogging going on in our house during this blog’s 3 1/2 year hiatus. Check out the category “Primrose’s Blog” to read what Paul has been up to since 2009 or so.
All of those folks who read Paul’s blog over at Blogspot, will now only need to follow one blog. Update your Google Reader!

Hope everyone had a great weekend. While my tomatoes are still sitting on the kitchen counter, Paul and I did tackle some front yard landscaping that we’ve been meaning to address for the last four years. If only I had thought to include major yard work on my to-do list…

6. Plan Out the Epic Tomato Harvest of 2011

Kathryn — Sun, 25 Sep 2011 21:48:29 +0000

Round 1: Before

I should have reworded this particular item “Plan Out and Implement the Epic Tomato Harvest of 2011.”

Romas

Last weekend, with Autumn looming ever closer, I looked out at our backyard garden beds and realized it was time to start turning the fruits of Paul’s summertime labor into delicious sauces and other edible treats that we can enjoy until summer rolls around and we can start growing fresh veggies again. This time last year found Paul and myself knee deep in grad school (yep, I brought it up, again) and we just gave away most of the tomatoes we had left on the vines. Some of Paul’s colleagues made some salsa with our orphaned Romas, so I didn’t feel too guilty. It did feel wrong, however, to spend the spring and summer watching these plants grow only to do nothing when the plants produced so much.

Other Assortment of Tomatoes

But not this year! I purposefully put this item on the list to ensure we did not repeat the mistakes of last year. Our tomato beds consisted of cherry tomatoes, romas and a mixture of other house and heirloom varieties. We’ll continue to eat the heirlooms fresh off the vines, but all other varieties are fair game for sauce making.

Cherry Tomatoes

First, I halved and put all our Sweet Baby Girl cherry tomatoes into the dehydrater for use in pastas and salads. I set our dehydrater to 140 degrees and it took about 18 hours to get the tomatoes to a raisin like state. I just put them in a freezer bag and they’re good to go. Sun dried tomatoes without the sun part! Done and done!

And then there was the other 20 lbs of tomatoes to deal with…I had been told by friends that they had found delicious and simple sauce recipes that don’t require skinning or de-seeding, but something in me wanted to do this the hard way. Something in my needed to prove that I could make sauce, from scratch, shortcuts be damned. However, I do have another round of tomatoes sitting on my kitchen counter as I type this and those buggers may be destined for an easier, crock pot related recipe.

Romas washed and ready to be milled

I found this recipe on a site that I’ve been coveting for quite awhile and was really excited to finally try out something from her archives. I did two batches of sauce, one with the romas and one with the assortment of other tomatoes in the garden. Due to the sheer amount that I had, I tripled the recipe for the Romas and doubled the recipe for the others.

Romas in the mill

The recipe shows how to blanche, peel and de-seed the tomatoes, I went for the “easier” route and bought a food mill. In the long run, it made for a smoother, more pureed sauce, thus eliminating the need to possibly blend the sauce at the end of the process. Besides, I have blanched and peeled tomatoes before, and while still time consuming, I still think milling is faster. I had never used a mill before, but it really isn’t too complicated (as was evidenced by the lack of manual and mere written instructions on the side of the box). I was skeptical that there would be a lot of waste, but after an hour or so of milling, and re-milling my bowl of tomato guts several times, I started with 12 lbs of romas and ended up with two bowls of sauce and one small bowl of leftover skins and seeds. Not bad.

Romas: After the mill (puree)

This sauce also has two components: the tomatoes and all the yummy, sauteed veggies that were mixed into the sauce. I diced my carrots, celery, onions, and garlic and set them aside before turning to the tomatoes. I sauteed the veggies and then added some oregano (from our garden) and basil (store bought because I can’t grow basil to save my life) near the end of the process before adding in the tomatoes.

Sauteed veggies and herbs

And then there was a lot of sitting around, waiting for the sauce to cook down. For the first batch of sauce, I waited until 5:00 in the evening to start, and so I could have let the sauce cook down and thicken up more than I did, but it was 11:30 and I wanted to go to bed. I figure I can always cook the sauce down more when I add it to spaghetti or whatever dish we use the sauce with.

Final Product

So by the end of the weekend, I turned 20+ lbs of tomatoes into 9 quarts of sauce and a quart baggie of dehydrated tomatoes.

I’m not sure if I’ll post Round 2, if I go the same route. There are also the green tomatoes still on the vine that we can pick and let rippen inside after the frost sets in. Clearly, I’ve got my work cut out for me. If I find a faster way to make sauce (I’ll be freezing everything, due to lack of shelf space and an abundance of freezer space in our house), I’ll be sure to let you all know.

Round 1: Bagged and ready for the freezer

Happy Harvesting!

1. Finish knitting cute little baby accessories for Baby Emmett

Kathryn — Sat, 17 Sep 2011 14:31:53 +0000

Fall and Winter Hats and Booties for Emmett

Emmett’s package of knitted goodies arrived in Sheridan earlier this week (and his momma just sent me a text this morning with little E rockin’ one of his new hats), so it’s safe to officially cross this one off my List. Huzzah!

Since I started knitting 2 1/2 or so years ago, the majority of my gift recipients have been babies. Sure, I’ve knitted some hats for Paul and me and a scarf and fingerless mittens for my own use, but everything else has been for sweet babes new to our little world. Unfortunately, I didn’t start making photographic evidence of my projects until about a year ago, so the evolution of my skills can’t fully be documented, but that’s not really what this is about, anyway, right?

I started knitting when my older sister J, and her husband, P adopted their first child. It was then that I began toying with the idea that making cute little knitted clothing and accessories might be a great “Auntie” thing to do. I distinctly remember sitting in our basement about three years ago, practicing a set of stitches that were supposed to create an eyelet pattern for a hat (that I would eventually make Brynn), and telling Paul, “I think I want knitting to be my hobby.” I had never had a hobby previously, and it only took me 26 years to find one; not too bad, I guess.

All The Hats and Booties

Creating neat and uniform stitches, and watching your project grow, row by row is really satisfying. Also as a plus, this hobby is pretty mobile, I can pack supplies into a small bag and knit from practically anywhere–the car, the airport, airplanes, etc. Up until now, I’ve had to balance knitting projects with school (I know, you’re thinking, when she going to stop talking about school–all in good time, dear readers; I promise I’ll get there), mostly knitting on holiday breaks or between semesters. There was (and still is) something very calming about the whole process: setting down my textbooks, backing away from my laptop and browsing the various knitting pattern books I’ve either purchased, or have been kindly given to me as gifts, or internet websites (all hail, Ravelry) and then picking out yarns–unfortunately, the local yarn shop closed about six months before I started knitting, so all of my shopping has been online, but even that’s pretty satisfying–and then being able to embark on a new project. Knitting was definitely key in keeping my sanity through grad school.

Holidays and breaks between semesters serendipitously occurred around the times I needed to work on and finish projects before nieces and nephews made their world premieres. Working on apparel for babies is especially satisfying for the novice knitter; baby clothes aren’t very big and don’t take too long to complete, no matter how slow or busy you are.

For Baby Olivia

For Baby Aiden

Now that this latest project is behind me, I’m thinking about moving on to new endeavors (socks! sweaters!) for people larger than a newborn (toddlers! kids! adults!). Our housemate, E, recently moved into her own place, so I’ve lost my evening knitting buddy, but we’ve already discussed getting together once in a while for a knitting circle. Also, with winter just around the corner (ugh), I’m sure I will be knitting more to get me through the days when it’s too cold to even enjoy our beautiful surroundings. When it’s below zero, I can’t think of a better way to spend my time.

Post MBA To Do List (kathrynandpaul.wordpress.com)

"I’ll take ‘Poor Planning’ for 500 please, Alex."

Paul — Thu, 08 Sep 2011 03:23:00 +0000

I mostly refrain from using sports metaphors, especially in education discourse. That said, a former principal came up with one of the best analogies I’ve ever heard. “Teaching is like baseball,” he said, “because on any given day you might be mediocre or even awful, so you have to measure your success by looking at the whole season.” Which is another way of saying that even the good teachers sometimes aren’t.

Now, today wasn’t that bad. But it certainly could have been better.

Last night was rough. I had a metric ton of grading and was zinged by a cold to boot, and subsequently I didn’t do enough planning for today. Oh sure, I had a general idea of what I wanted to accomplish in each class, but none of these ideas really gelled until I got to school this morning. And after five years of teaching, I know better than to try to plan in the morning. One must plan well in advance, because if one walks into the classroom without a plan, Very Bad Things will happen. Teenagers can smell a lack of planning from three periods away.

Now, let’s be clear. I’m exaggerating. But I talked way too much today, a sure sign of poor planning, and I even cracked very stupid jokes which, if you don’t know me or my sense of humor, could be mistaken for stupid and uninformed jokes. Luckily, my students get me and forgive my stupidity. Usually.

And so tonight I’m reviewing the unit plan and next week’s activities, and I’m regaining that sense of control. Unfortunately, my ability to write cogently has apparently left the building with Elvis, so this-here post is getting cut short.

Onward!

Post MBA To Do List

Kathryn — Wed, 07 Sep 2011 23:02:50 +0000

My sister-in-law over at Freckles and Sunshine made a fabulous Summer Fun List this year, and feeling similarly inspired (oh alright, I’m totally copying her idea), and in hopes that it jump starts my productivity and gives me something to blog about, here is my Post MBA To Do List, in no particular order. Some are fairly specific, others are bigger, more long-term or even slightly vague, and I will, no doubt, add to as time progresses. At the very least, it’s a small amount of accountability I didn’t have before:

Finish knitting cute little baby accessories for Baby Emmett
Plan out future knitting projects (Christmas presents, perhaps?)
Finish photo collage in living room
Start going to Yoga on a somewhat regular basis
Clean out and organize the office
Plan out the Epic Tomato Harvest of 2011
Go to UW Football game
Girls weekend with my sisters
Fall trip to Yellowstone
Get sewing machine repaired (top stitch is crooked) so I can be more adventurous with sewing
Window treatments for living room window
Paint downstairs family room
Paint guest bedroom
Fabric wall art for guest bedroom
Go on more day hikes
Bake more
Read more of the classics
Learn how to use Photoshop
Research new cameras
Cross-country ski in Yellowstone and stay in the Park
Unpack and find space for Paul’s Grammy’s china–all 107 pieces of it
Take more weekend bike rides before the weather and roads make it impossible to do so
Train the dog not to jump all over people, and bark, when they walk through the front door
Trip to the BH and to the Little Bighorn Battlefield
Weekend trip to Jackson

Well, I think that’s a good start, anyway. It feels great just to have it in writing and hopefully I’ll have more to report/write about in the coming weeks and months.

House Guests

Kathryn — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 03:37:33 +0000

When Paul first started toying with the idea of getting into cycling, he signed us up for WarmShowers. While we’ve made numerous jokes about the name (and honestly, I don’t usually call it by its actual name to avoid the inevitable snarky comment), it’s basically Couch Surfers for touring cyclists. At the begininning of the summer, Paul activated our account, thus posting a virtual vacancy sign on our humble abode. Lander is on several cross-country tour routes, including the TransAmerica Trail, so we see our fair share of cyclists working their way across the high plains, facing forces of nature–wind, rain, wind, bugs, wind and bugs–that I find annoying enough traveling from the comfort of my air conditioned car. According to those who have stayed with us, despite the relatively high bicycle traffic, Paul and I are one of the few folks in Wyoming who have an account with WS.

Since we opened our doors to the interwebs, we’ve had nine cyclists stay with us. Additionally, we’ve had four other friends of friends and friends of friends of friends stay with us on various non-bicycle cross country adventures, but perhaps that’s fodder for another post. We’ve spent many great evenings on our back porch talking to our guests about their travels, what they did before they decided to spend several months on a bike, where they’ll end up, our lives in Lander and why we decided to allow strangers to stay with us on a moment’s notice. Some folks stayed for just a night, others used Lander as a day or two stop over to do some bike maintenance and stock up on supplies. It’d made for a really busy and interesting summer without doing much traveling ourselves. Our last two cyclists left Saturday morning and, now that school has started for Paul and my work schedule is about to get all sort of busy again, we’ve deactivated the account for the year.

In honor of the end of our first WS summer, here is a brief summary of the folks who’ve stayed at Chez Kathryn and Paul:

Adam arrived on the afternoon of the 4th of July. He was completing the second leg of his east to west trip, starting in Pueblo, CO and eventually ending in Florence, OR. Originally from San Diego, Adam planned to be in Lander on the 5th or 6th, but other cyclists he met along his route kept telling him that he should really consider getting to Lander by the 4th. He pulled a couple big days and made in time for the evening fireworks madness. I often forget that Wyoming has pretty loose fireworks regulations, so the selection alone at the roadside fireworks stand transformed Adam in a giddy 10 year old. Adam stayed with us a couple nights, worked on his bike, stocked up on food and headed towards Dubois, vowing he’d be back next year for the 4th.

Kyle arrived a couple hours after Adam, traveling west to east. Kyle is from Brooklyn; he move to Eugene, OR to learn how to make Long Haul bikes at The Center for Appropriate Transport. After Kyle finished his apprenticeship at CAT, he then began his journey back to Newark, NJ, on his newly constructed bike. Kyle left bright and early on July 5th, despite having ridden in from Pinedale the day before and staying up watching fireworks on our roof until midnight.

We had big of a break between our first two guests and the next round. This was mostly due to the fact that Paul and I weren’t home much, but our summer ended with a flurry of riders.

Ryan and Andrea stayed with us Aug 11 and 12. They started their ride in Nelson, British Columbia, will work their way through the US and Mexico before getting off their bikes and heading to Cuba. The couple stayed with us two nights, spending most of their time downtown or on our back porch. We actually didn’t even get to wish the two good luck before they headed out, as we left for Sheridan the day before they departed for Jeffery City and beyond.

John, John and Rafael stayed with us sometime the week of August 22 (22 or 23 maybe?). Making their way from Oregon to Baltimore, John and John were from Baltimore and Raf was from the Sunshine Coast, Australia. John and John were making the full trip back to Baltimore, while Raf was riding as far as he could in 65 days, minus some time to visit some family in several states before heading back to Sydney. They started in Astoria and hit Lander on day 25, after riding for 90 miles that day. They were a little disappointed and little relieved that, due to major road construction, they were taken by pilot car over the majority of Togwotee Pass–the highest pass of their ride.

Ryan and Nelle are originally from Varley in Western Australia. They started their ride in San Francisco and have been winding their way through the states, taking various side trips along the way. They’re Canada-bound via the Continental Divide trail (or parts of it, anyway) with 900 miles to go in 5 weeks. They actually came to stay with us as a result of John, John and Raf who met them somewhere between here and Rawlins. They needed a place to stay and J,J and R passed along our contact info. It was a good thing they got a hold of us because we had some crazy weather the last week or so. This couple had some truly burly bikes (as in mountain bikes, not touring road bikes) with their trailers in tow. They spent two nights with us, and headed out this past Saturday, or at least that was their plan. Fluffy Buffalo played a wedding reception in Lander’s City Park that night and before the show, Paul said he actually ran into Ryan and Nelle. They had come back to town to buy a camper trailer of some sorts. I was hoping to run into them in the park that night (you can camp in City Park for up to three consecutive nights, and Paul thought that that’s where Ryan and Nelle would be), but alas between the dancing and joviality of the night, I never did see them.

And that’s the list. Not bad for our first year if I do say so myself. Paul and I (okay, mostly me) have talked about getting a big US wall map to put in our extra bedroom and mark where folks are from, or since we’ve seemed to picked up more of an international contingent than I thought, perhaps where they started their trips. Although a big world map on the wall would look pretty sweet too.

Day 5: Burgess Junction to Basin

Paul — Sun, 21 Aug 2011 15:23:00 +0000

We’d slept well that night, snuggled deep into our bags, and when I woke up at 5 the world felt more subdued than usual. It was as if we’d agreed that we wouldn’t be in a hurry today. Other cyclists were certainly up and moving, but I didn’t get a sense of urgency. I only had to reach for the tent flap to understand why.

Instead of the pliable fabric I was used to, the tent was stiff from frost. I now understood why I’d wound up curled fetal in the sleeping bag, lumpy ground and sore back be damned. I stepped outside, into a world of ice and breath clouds. It wasn’t a winter wonderland – the ground wasn’t caked with ice, for goodness sake – but our camp chairs, my street shoes, and our bags had a layer of frost straight from October’s windshield.

I’d been toying with the idea of making this my last day. Our overnight stay in Basin would be a mere 30 miles from Worland, and although the last night of the Tour apparently has some fun traditions, we were both ready to return to Lander. I therefore wanted to take it easy this morning – no huge rush to get on the bike; no huge rush to set up camp after the ride. Just complete the ride and call it a Tour.

It’s only a month later, and I can’t remember breakfast from that morning. I know I didn’t get on the bike until somewhere around 7, far later than previous days. It was a very chilly ride, even with my riding jacket. Today’s route took us from Burgess Junction to Granite Pass and then plunging down Shell Canyon. We’d emerge on the west side of the Big Horn Mountains, pedaling through Greybull and then turning south to Basin. 50 miles? 60? It didn’t matter; it was the last ride and I was going to enjoy it.

Burgess Junction to Granite Pass is only 10 miles or so, climbing somewhere around 800 feet. Not a big deal. It feels like you’re going west when you’re on this road, but in fact you’re shooting almost due south. The climbs here are nothing more than high country rollers: enough to make you work, sometimes even stand on the pedals, but not enough to make you question your sanity.

By the time I’d reached Granite Pass, after nearly an hour on the bike, I was sweating in the jacket and getting a bit sore in the shoulders. Kathryn had passed me a few miles back and was waiting at the pass. However, Granite Pass is weird. Heading south, there’s no road sign indicating you’re at the pass, you just crest a hill and then blaze down. Kathryn apparently learned this the hard way. There is a road sign on the other side of the road, though, so when I stopped to have Kathryn take my picture, I had it taken from the “wrong” side.

Kathryn took my jacket and graciously hung around to take pictures of other cyclists. I noticed that others weren’t shedding their outer layer, and although I knew the ride would get cold, I welcomed it.

Descending Shell Canyon was one of the highlights of the entire Tour. I’d become more comfortable on downhills by this point and opened it up, pedaling hard in top gear on straightaways, tucking on the turns. A cyclist in front of me kept a great pace and I tried to keep up with him.

The cold wind numbed my shoulders. It felt great. This stretch, no more than a few miles from Granite Pass to the day’s first rest area, made me appreciate everything about the Tour, not to mention cycling.

More descending after the first rest area, and many of us stopped at Shell Falls. Remarkable. And terrifying, if you’re afraid of heights like I am.

More descending, and now car traffic was picking up. You could hang with them on the turns but the polite thing to do was get out of the way on straightaways. Between the altitude and rising sun, it was warming up.

Descending out of exposed cliff faces and into vegetation and tree canopies. The river on your right, and if you weren’t so preoccupied with not getting smoked by cars, you’d stop to scope out fishing holes.

And now we were out of the canyon, one moment gliding through pleasant shade, the next moment cranking away in Wyoming high desert heat. This was a long stretch, mostly because of the heat but also the scenery. Somewhere on a gentle downhill in here my CO2 pump fell out of its straps, forcing me to stop, pedal back up the hill a ways, and figure it out. Roadkill. Rough shoulders. Passing some, getting passed by others. Just keep pedaling.

I can’t remember where it occurred (it may have been in the town of Shell), but on this last day, three kids stood by the road and cheered us on. They weren’t selling lemonade or looking at us like we were freaks – they were cheering us on. They literally jumped up and down, clapping, as you rode by. You’ve heard the phrase “I can live two weeks on a compliment?” This was better. It was easily my favorite off-the-bike moment of the Tour.

That gave me enough fuel for rest area two. Kathryn was waiting, and I debated just calling it good right then and there. We hadn’t reached Greybull yet, but we were close. A few more miles, a left turn to the south, and an eight mile burn to Basin. Kathryn pointed out that I only had 10 miles or so left of the Tour. With that, I got on the bike.

I followed a small group into Greybull. They stopped for lunch, and as I swung left at the main intersection, I realized it was over. All of that work, those cold rides in April, the early mornings out on Baldwin Creek / Squaw Creek loop, the sweat and snot on the Sinks Canyon asphalt, the innumerable explanations to family and friends about just what exactly this Tour thing was – done. Eight miles and it was over.

It wasn’t sprinting exactly, but it was the strongest I’ve ever pedaled on level ground. Some part of me just wanted to prove that I belonged on a bike, that despite all my insecurities and paranoia about getting passed, that I knew in my heart it didn’t matter.

So for this last eight miles, I went like hell. I sliced through the wind and heat. I stood on the pedals because I could, not because I needed to. I clicked into my top gear, found a cadence, and flew.

My bike computer had been acting up for the past two days, occasionally freezing or indicating I’d traveled all of two miles after three hours on the bike. So, I don’t know what my average speed was for those last eight miles between Greybull and Basin. Certainly in the upper teens. Possibly, though I doubt it was this awesome, over 20.

I rolled into Basin, took a right on one of the main streets, and found Kathryn parked by the high school. She snapped a picture, we loaded up the RAV, and headed for home. No fanfare, no dramatic goodbyes to other cyclists – mostly because I suspect I’ll see them again.

—

It’s a month to the day since I rolled into Basin. Would I do the Tour again? Depends on the route and family schedule, but the short answer is yes. I came back to Lander as trim and fit as I’ve been in a long, long time. Coworkers noticed; former students noticed; close friends congratulated me. And then for weeks I did nothing but bake bread and learn other family baked-goods recipes. The weight’s creeping back up and the flab is getting worse daily. I can quite literally feel my leg muscles atrophying.

I’ve been on a few rides, about once a week, but the fever is dying down. In fact, riding almost seems like a chore. I desperately want to fall back in love with cycling, but a part of me, that sniveling, petulant, lazy part of me that kept me depressed for years, keeps finding excuses to stay off the bike. I was going to ride this morning but made coffee and surfed instead. Oh, sure, that meant getting this post written, but a moment ago I snapped at Kathryn when in fact I was upset at the dog.

We all carry around suitcases of emotional gravel and scree; someone says something hurtful and we put that pebble in our pack. We haul bricks of insecurity in there, too, and some of us have rocks we don’t even remember. The only way to lighten the load is to dissolve the rocks, and the only liquid that does that is sweat. A few times there, on the climb between rest area two and Powder River Pass; on the last broiling five miles descending into Buffalo; on the Story and Granite Pass downhills; in the camp chairs at Dayton, soaking in the view with Kathryn; a few times there, my luggage was well and truly lost. Can’t say I missed it.

I see now the moral imperative in getting on the bike. We can get as poetic or emotional as we want, but the fact remains that cycling changed me for the better, or at least offered a glimpse of what could be. I spend an awful lot of time chewing on myself. Cycling channels that crap into something useful.

And with that, I’m going for a ride.

What To Do With All This Free Time

Kathryn — Sun, 21 Aug 2011 15:02:25 +0000

Since my last class finished on August 5 (it was in a non-thesis Masters Program, so there was no defense involved, for that type of story, you’ll have to rely on Paul for that), not only have I been waiting for the moment when I’ll realize that I won’t eventually start a new class, but I’ve also been trying to figure out how not to become lazy and worthless with my free time. During the semester, facing another night or weekend with little else but homework on the schedule, I would daydream about the home improvement projects that I wanted to start, things I wanted to knit or craft projects I wanted to try. To help compensate, I added multiple design and crafting/knitting sites to Google Reader and found myself mindlessly surfing Pinterest. These actions definitely didn’t help my productivity the last two semesters of school, but I suppose it helped me see the light at the end of the tunnel.

We’ve had a lot going on the last couple of weeks, so staying busy hasn’t been too much of a challenge. Paul’s Mom and Stepdad visited us for a week–unfortunately I worked that week and didn’t get any pictures taken. We took a trip to Sheridan for our nephew’s birthday and spent some time with my parents. We took a hike up Crazy Woman Canyon near Buffalo, and relaxed. It was nice to travel and not be tethered to my laptop.

This week, Paul’s Dad and Stepmom visited and left yesterday morning. We’re also dog-sitting this weekend for a friend, Lander Brewing Company’s Brewmaster, while he’s off winning the 2011 Steinley Cup Microbrewery Competition in Saratoga, WY. Congrats, Ted! Rigby and Brewer have kept themselves entertained, alternating between running around the yard together at full speed and then napping in the yard or the living room, so it’s left Paul and me with actual time to burn. Yesterday was definitely my typical “I don’t have to do homework so I don’t want to do a damn thing” types of days. I finished knitting a hat for Baby C–the soon to-be-son of my brother-in-law’s sister and her husband–while watching episodes of Dr. Who and Arrested Development. And that’s about it. If it wasn’t for the knitting, I’d be embarrassed to admit what I did (and all the things I didn’t do) yesterday. And even with that, it’s still a little embarrassing.

So, in short, now that free time is available in spades, I’m struggling with what to do and how to fill my spare time. I’m currently not living up to my expectations, but I suppose that will come in time. Slowly, I am emerging from my grad school haze and hopefully soon, I will fully grasp the idea that projects and hobbies are no longer a luxury, but instead a normal part of my everyday life. Perhaps I should post my to do list on here to make myself more accountable. Thoughts?

After yesterday’s lazy-palooza, today, I think I’ll try my hand at some yard work or house cleaning. Not super creative or exciting but at least it gets me off the couch.

Picking Up Where We Left Off

Kathryn and Paul — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 01:04:34 +0000

So, I’m attempting to bring this blog back from the dead. I remember it taking a bit of effort to transfer Paul and my old blogs to this one, so it seemed silly to start from scratch, even though there will probably be more Kathryn than Paul writing here (which is too bad, because Paul is a much better writer than me; my apologies in advance).

Even though the majority of those who will read this (the few and far between, I’m sure) know us/see us/at least communicate with us on a regular basis, just for kicks, let’s do a little update for the greater good, shall we? So, what have we been up to in the last 3 1/2 years…

The wedding, it went off without a hitch.

Just Married!

Went to Yellowstone for a mini honeymoon.

Honeymoon in Yellowstone

My younger sister, Abbey, got married.

Best. Wedding. Picture. Ever.

We added another furry, four-legged kid to the family. Blog, meet Rigby, Rigby, meet our blog.

E. Rigby Primrose

Sometime after, this is where things more-or-less turn into one big blur. I finished those pesky pre-requisite courses and got accepted into grad school and Paul decided to finish his Master’s degree. Those two events are the real reason this blog went defunct. For two or so years, the world scurried along while Paul and I went to work, came home every night, stared at our computers or textbooks for the evening before going to bed and starting the whole thing over again the next day. I took a job the school district’s afterschool program, babies were born (2 nieces and 3 nephews in addition to many babies of friends, so far), we went to weddings, on vacations, friends and family came to visit, house projects–both large and small–were somehow completed, I learned to knit, Paul built two guitars, learned how to play keyboard and joined a funk band, and before we knew it (ha!), Paul finished his Masters this past November and I finished a couple of weeks ago.

And now life can begin again.

This spring, Paul decided to take up cycling, so he purchased a shiny new road bike and signed up for the Tour de Wyoming. He rode his bike over the Bighorn Mountains. Twice. Total badassery, right there folks. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: My husband rocks.

Summiting at Powder River Pass

Summiting at Granite Pass

A dear friend whom I’ve known since the second grade is living with us this summer. I’m super excited that she wants to live in Lander. She’s a freelance writer and has written some great pieces on natural resources in Wyoming and the West. Check out her website in the side bar and her most recent article on WyoFile

In addition to our housemate, Paul also signed us up as hosts for thru-cyclists and we’ve been fortunate enough to have four people stay with us this summer (they all have websites, you can check them out in the side bar as well).

In short, life is slowly returning to what it was like the brief six-months we lived in Chez Kathryn and Paul before I started school and effectively lost all sustainable free time as well as the ability to socialize with the outside world. This blog may result in complete failure yet again, but I figured it will be a better way to spend my spare time than watching back-to-back-to-back episodes of Dr. Who on Netflix. Also, I won’t have to quit my computer-usage time cold turkey. Win-win for everyone, right?

Away we go!

Day 4: Dayton to Burgess Junction

Paul — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 14:58:00 +0000

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We’d arrived in Dayton fairly late, and after bickering a little (okay, I was being ~~not particularly helpful~~ crabby) we finally set up camp on a ridge between the road and the school. Our tent faced west, toward the mountain, and it was a gorgeous evening.

After getting a quick lesson in bike tube repair from the ridiculously cool and nice guys from the Pedal House, I joined Kathryn at the tent and we sat in camp chairs, soaking in the view. I couldn’t help gazing at the diagonal scar running up the mountain, the highway. We’d be climbing that thing tomorrow. As so often happens on the Tour, bedtime came early.

A few seconds (actually 3 hours) after I closed my eyes, the tent fluttered a bit as the wind picked up. Rain pattered. The wind grew stronger, and the tent popped and shook. Now, outdoor sounds are magnified in a tent for some reason, so what feels like a hurricane is actually a strong breeze. Kathryn had very wisely staked down the tent, and with our weight there was no chance of actually getting blown away.

But it sure felt and sounded like we might blow away. At one point, I got out to secure some straps that were slapping around in the storm, and that’s when I noticed an oddity: there was a large, empty tent next to ours. Holding it in place was a big pile of . . . our gear.

Huh?

Either the tent had tumbled our way and somehow gobbled our stuff and then flipped over, or more likely, the tent blew away and rather than try to haul it back to from whence it came and then stake it in, the tent rescuers just grabbed the nearest heavy stuff they could find . . . namely, our camp chairs and our heavy luggage bags.

Another example of Tour Etiquette: in a crisis, it’s okay to borrow someone else’s gear, even if they don’t give you permission. At least, I think that’s Tour Etiquette. Regardless, I’m just glad we could help even if we were asleep at the time.

The storm finally blew through, and Kathryn and I got back to sleep. At five, I found a portapotty and the breakfast line and hit the road.

Once again, we had a few miles of gradual climbing before the real effort began. Something was easier this time, though. I was still down in lower gears, cranking quickly and moving slowly, but the anxiety about climbing a mountain was gone. The obvious answer is that because I’d climbed Ten Sleep Canyon two days before, I knew I could pedal up this mountain.

Soon we were climbing the switchbacks. These are unusual in my book, since they sit near the base of the mountain, unlike other switchbacks that sit near the top of mountains. Again, not as hard as I thought they’d be. I was even making good time here, passing quite a few folks.

Cranking away. One turn after another.

On one of the longer stretches, a cyclist came up next to me. We’d been pedaling for an hour or so but car traffic was still incredibly light; you could ride two abreast and have a nice conversation, which is far better than having a conversation with someone on your back tire. I mean, for all you know, that voice back there is not another cyclist but your subconscious because you have finally, once and for all, gone crazy.

So it was nice to talk to someone I could see. This guy was on a very nice bike and decked out in high-end cycling clothes. I can’t remember his name – in fact, I’m not sure he ever told me – but we were talking about how healthy cycling is when he mentioned he’d lost close to a hundred pounds since he first started cycling three years ago. What?!

“I used to weigh over 300,” he said. I surreptitiously glanced at him. Average build, not slim, but beneath all of it, solid. Endless-hours-on-a-bike solid.

“One day my doctor said I had to change,” he continued, “and something finally clicked for me. I went out and bought a bike at Wal-Mart and also started eating healthier. I lost something like 20 pounds in two months, and I’ve been hooked ever since.”

Incredible, I tell you. It’s incredible what cycling does for you. As I said before, I never had any true epiphanies on the Tour, but I have come to focus on what matters: a supportive spouse, a healthy lifestyle, kindness towards oneself and others, and an abiding and profound appreciation for shade and water.

We rounded a bend and there, tucked into a nook in the very scar I’d been eyeballing last night, was our first rest area. It felt good, as always, but I was eager to keep going.

More pedaling. Several hundred yards past the rest area we rode into the black cloud of death-smell. Another cyclist was passing me at this point. “Mmmmmmmmm,” I said as we rode past a particularly gruesome deer carcass, “breakfast.” Heh. I crack myself up.

He looked at me, puzzled, and kept pedaling. Well, at least someone thinks I’m funny, even if it’s just me.

I stopped at Sand Turn because Kathryn and I had agreed to meet either at the rest area or at the Turn, but she wasn’t there. More pedaling. I should mention here that this highway is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever been on in my life. Just for the record.

More pedaling, up near what I thought was the top of the mountain. These are old rocks up here, people, and to occupy my time I thought about how many billions of years it took for these rocks to become part of western South Dakota’s topsoil. How many cubic feet of grit is blown from these mountains into South Dakota in a year? Not much. Not much.

The second rest area sat in a bend just below Steamboat Point. Approaching it, I realized I had a slight problem. I was cramping up.

Okay, just get there. Drink some water, eat some food, relax.

I remember someone, a Tour veteran I’m sure, singing as she passed me here. I think I sang along to take my mind of the cramping.

Regardless, this rest area felt much, much better than the first one. In fact, this may have been the second-best rest area of the whole Tour, behind the second rest area at Meadowlark Lake two days before. I slugged down fruit, water, and Gatorade. I stretched out my legs, making small talk with the others, immensely proud of what I’d just done. I thought, incorrectly, that we were close to the top.

That’s one of the worst possible mental mistakes you can make. No one ever said this to me, but if I ever offer advice to rookie cyclists, I’m going to tell them: never, ever tell yourself that you’re near the top unless you can see the top. By saying crap like, “Okay, this has got to be the last climb before the summit,” you’re just setting yourself up for heartbreak.

Rather, the cyclist should find a mental happy place where pedaling becomes as natural as breathing and pain is nature’s reminder that one is alive. Just enjoy the ride. Come to a Zen-like peace with the agony, the bugs, the sweat in the eyes, and the bloated deer carcasses. Surrender to the suck.

And so the stretch between Steamboat Point and Burgess Junction turned out to be the hardest leg of the entire Tour for some reason. I put myself in the wrong frame of mind and paid dearly for it. Even the hair-on-fire descent wasn’t all that enjoyable. There were a few lakes and creeks up here that looked eminently fishable, but mostly I was getting pouty. I’d done what I’d come here to do. I just wanted to get to camp and get off the bike. These turns and small climbs were getting old. Very old. Hey look, more trees! And another climbing turn into trees! Greeeaaaaaaaat.

In fact, at the last turn to the southeast, with Burgess Junction a mere two miles away or so, I got downright ornery. The grade wasn’t terrible but I was in my lowest gear. Other cyclists blazed by me, slicing through the wind while I clawed and scraped through it. I was angry. I darn near got off the bike.

But I didn’t. I just kept pedaling, calling myself crude names as a last resort of motivation. How silly would I feel, SAGing in the last mile? Silly. Very silly. That, and ashamed.

Kathryn had set up camp at the lodge where we were all staying, and because I could fill many pages with the descriptions about life at this lodge, I’ll just say this: if you’re ever in Wyoming, don’t miss Bear Lodge on state highway 14.

This afternoon and evening’s activities included a dip in the indoor hot tub and pool, watching other people fish in the small pond, drinking beer in the bar, catching a nap on the deck, reading in the shade, getting a massage, and snuggling into our bags on what would be the coldest night of the Tour by a very long way.