multi-hyphenated-me

the hyphens that define my life

Jack.O.Lanterns October 29, 2013

The entire pumpkin experience is one of our family’s favorite Halloween traditions.  Hands down, nothing beats a bag full from a night spent trick-or-treating, or getting dressed up in costume and playing the part.  In that order, running in third place is the pumpkins.

Going to the pumpking patch is an event in itself.  We went to Green Bluff this year to experience not only picking the biggest and freshest pumpkins we’ve ever had, but we also experienced the pumpkin cannon.

Bringing home six pumpkins weighing in at 138 pounds, we could have made an entire pumpkin person from our over zealous adventure.  Instead we stayed true to form and carved our jack o’ lanterns. At least, that was the plan.

This year I bought a keyhole saw. I read a Martha Stewart Facebook post that said she found keyhole saws to be the best pumpkin carving tool, aside from her entire pumpkin carving kit.  I went to Home Depot and sought help from the first orange apron I encountered in the tool section.  The orange apron showed me to the saw section and asked what project I was working on.  As tempted as I was to say that I wanted to cut a keyhole, I refrained and confessed my Martha Stewart pumpkin project.  He showed me the different options available and went on his way.

Back at home, my husband and I pulled the dining chairs away from the table (standing room only), lined the dining room table with  towels, a flannel backed vinyl table cloth and plenty of newspapers.  Then I called in my muscle men to carry in their pumpkins.

Our two older boys refused to participate unless someone agreed to scoop out the insides, the pumpkin guts, because the smell makes both of them gag.  Before I could volunteer, our youngest signed up to be the official Pumpkin Gut Cleaner.   My husband and I looked at each other with “this ought to be good” looks as our youngest notoriously bails the scene when the real work begins.

Our youngest did need a step stool but they all got busy.  I love this picture.  Three boys with knives and saws, fantastic.

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As soon as the older boys cut out the tops, our youngest jumped right to task and cleaned out four pumpkins!  We were all stunned.  The gooeier the better.  He loved playing in the muck.

Our middle son was the only one to carve two pumpkins.  One free form, working with the odd shape to create his “old man” pumpkin.  The second, like his brothers, was carved using stencils.

I, from the same Martha Stewart Facebook post, made a Mouse Motel.  Let me tell you, a keyhole saw is a must have for pumpkin carving.  Fast, smooth, easy circles and clean lines.  How have I lived this long without one?

My husband was in charge of safety and assistance.  He did a great job.

Here is our final products.  On the left are the two our nine-year-old carved.  Second from the right is our eight year olds handiwork and on the right is the work of our twelve-year-old. We did bring six pumpkins home. One is small, uncarved and cute. We decided to leave this one alone.

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And here is my eeky mouse motel:

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EEK!

Do you have your pumpkins carved?

 

Falling October 28, 2013

Fall leaves are quickly falling.  The temperatures are dropping, the north winds are blowing and fall is in its glory.  Leaves have changed from shades of green to a spectacular rainbow of magentas, reds, oranges, golds and browns.  The air is crisp with the earthy smells of crushed leaves and wet dirt from recent rain.

Today I realized I had not one picture of fall foliage.  At lunch my husband and I walked a couple mile loop, purposely avoiding the bakery and the tap house, to get away from our desks and to enjoy the splendor of our new hometown in autumnal glory.

Then there’s us, the odd couple.  My husband is a skinny white boy from Southern California.  He has spent plenty of time in cold weather, skiing, hunting and living.  Yet, he shows up for our walk wearing waterproof hiking boots, flannel lined jeans, two shirts covered with a lined windbreaker shell, gloves and a hat.  I’m in regular jeans, tennis shoes, a long sleeve t-shirt, a fleece jacket (no hat, no gloves), and my camera.  I asked where he was going because I only had 25 minutes, he said he was prepared.  Good for you.

To his credit, it was 44 degrees and the cold wind was whipping, stinging your skin.  Ok, that was the first block.  Once you got your blood pumping, the weather was perfect.

I took a bunch of photographs but none do justice to the amazing fall colors.  Plus I’m late, I should have done this last week.  This is the best that I could capture:

Our pathway to the park.

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At the park, in full golden opulence.

As we walked, I scuffed my feet through the mounds of leaves on the sidewalk, kicking the biggest mounds into the air.  I pointed out every squirrel we saw to avoid attack.  My husband does not believe my squirrel attack story.  I was there.  He wasn’t.  The squirrels and I know what happened.

Fall is upon us.  Halloween is just days away (still not ready but keep feeding me Brach’s candy corn and mallocreme pumpkins for increased endurance!).  The boys came home from school ready to turn in their hoodies for warmer jackets.  They are anxiously awaiting the first snow fall and leaves falling to the ground and dropping temperatures takes them one step closer to snow.

I will be certain to remind them of their snow dreams when they are raking leaves this weekend.

 

Roaring 20’s October 21, 2013

When you hear the words “company party” or “work party” some people groan.  I’ve done my time at these groan provoking parties and sympathize with anyone dreading their upcoming work commitments this holiday season.

However, the holiday party my company throws is not one to be missed.  Our young, fun, work-hard-play-hard company culture and collaborative approach to planning this party sets the tone for a good time to be had by all.  By all I mean bringing every employee together from fourteen offices from four countries throughout North and South America.  Everyone loves to see, in person, the people we virtually work with either in a neighboring office or thousands of miles away.

Some years’ the party is themed, some years not.  This year theme is based on The Great Gatsby and the 1920’s.  I love themed parties!! Themed or not, the question is always – What do I wear?

The instant thought of fashion trends of the day are long pearls, sequins, fringe, short skirts and feathers. Being the 45-year-old woman who gets attacked by squirrels that I am, this is not my look.  I have been all over the internet looking at 1920’s fashion images and reading all kinds of blogs and articles on fashion, hair styles and make up of the era to get ideas but nothing has grabbed my attention or sparked my imagination.

However, I did find the perfect pair of shoes which is a good start.  I have some vintage jewelry that will accessorize the perfect dress.  But what dress?

My mom reminded me of my grandparents wedding photo that I had stashed somewhere, but since our move, where could that be?  Thankfully I put my hands on the photograph tonight with minimal search.

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My grandparents are seated in this photo taken on their wedding day, June 19 1928.

What I love about this photo is my grandfather’s smile.  You could always find him smiling until he passed at age 100. I truly love that my grandmother, the risqué woman, wore a short, just below the knee, dress on her wedding day.  How awesome!  She wasn’t alone.  Despite prohibition at the time, my grandfather made 400 bottles of beer and bought a bottle of whisky and two boxes of cigars for the reception!  What a pair!  They drove off in a 1922 Model T Ford for their honeymoon. Eight children and 60 years of marriage before my grandmothers passing at age 82, the 1920’s were good place for them to start.

My grandmother’s wedding dress is my inspiration to design my holiday party dress.  My pretty, young co-workers can flaunt the fringe and feathers.  I will represent an amazing woman in my life that lived and loved in the 1920’s.

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[P.S.  Halloween costumes not done, barely started.  4 days to go until the Monster Mash.  Now that I have my dress figured out (for a party in DECEMBER) I can whip the costumes together].

[P.S.S.  I think my left wrist may have chipped a bone or is fractured.  I can do a lot of things but I can’t drive.  My side to side wrist action is limited and painful.  My wrist is swollen too.  Maybe I’ll get an x-ray tomorrow.  Maybe not, I could be too busy shooting squirrels – that’s how my paternal grandparents spent their honeymoon, but that story is for another day].

 

Pumpkin Chuckin’ October 20, 2013

Fall fun would not be complete without a trip to the pumpkin patch. Not just any pumpkin patch, we drove 40 minutes north to Green Bluff – where we had summer fun picking peaches and berries – to visit one of the many farms that sell pumpkins, Knapps, www.knappsongreenbluff.com.

Knapps was recommended to us as a local family favorite for one reason and one reason only – pumpkin chuckin’. New to pumpking chuckin’? Us too.  Pumpkin chuckin’, as it was explained to us by our neighbor, is where they shoot a pumpkin out of a cannon every half hour throughout the day.

I can not tell you what an easy sell this was to Vince and the boys.  We, our old dog included, piled into the car and headed to Knapps to witness this craziness ourselves.  I had a full day planned, pick out some pumpkins, pick some apples, see the cannon launch, eat some pumpkin doughnuts, drink some fresh pressed cider and go home.

We made it to the farm, without issue.  We asked the nearest employee for information and guidance on how pumpkin picking.  We were given the option for “regular pumpkins” and “large pumpkins.”  We opted for the large pumpkins.  Vince had been filling the kids heads with the idea that an 1100 lb. pumpkin wouldn’t fit in the car.

Here’s Vince with a smile and a pumpkin.

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The boys ran all over the field looking for the best pumpkin ever. Turns out that you need two pumpkins.  Here they are with their goods:

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All told, we bought 168 pounds of pumpkins and a couple of gourds that are bird house projects for another day.  This is how we support local farmers.

This was not a U-Pick apple farm, so we decided not to pick up any apples this trip.  We headed toward the main attraction, the pumpkin cannon.

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This launcher, we learned, has been in operation for eleven years, shooting pumpkins every day on the half hour throughout fall.  The guy running the show told us that the safest place on the farm is the target because they haven’t hit it once, yet.  He explained that this cannon is powered by a 500 gallon tank at 32 pounds of pressure.  The pumpkin is launched 1500 yards out and incredibly high into the sky.  There was even a plug for the local John Deere dealer who donated the tractor that raises the launch into position.  This picture shows the cannon being raised, halfway to the desired angle.

Pumpkin Chuckin’ is a thing.  People do this all over the country.  The guy told us to look up Pumpkin Chuckin’ Virginia to learn about a pumpkin chuckin festival that attracts people from all over with their personal pumpkin chuckers ranging from much larger cannons to catapults and sling shots.

From now on when I think whatever I am doing is ridiculous, I’ll think of the pumpkin chuckers and know that I’m in good company.

The pumpkin was launched and we all gasped and oohed and aahed at the incredible distance the pumpkin was blasted across the fields.  Again, the target was missed.

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We had fun at Knapps and decided to check out some other farms in the area.

That was the idea.  The sunny skies and warm weather brought people in droves to the Apple Festival that was occurring down the road. Cars were lined up for miles to get to this event.  Headed the opposite direction, we bypassed all traffic and headed home.

We didn’t get our apples, doughnuts or cider, but we did get some giant pumpkins, had some good laughs and made some great memories.  We also witnessed and learned a little something about pumpkin chuckin’ too.

 

Under Attack. Proceed With Caution October 19, 2013

7:15 AM Saturday, 31 degrees farenheit

I leave my house to walk eight-tenths of a mile to the coffee shop and bakery to meet my co-room mom to make plans for the upcoming harvest party for our third grader’s class.

Though I cursed my alarm clock ringing on a Saturday morning, I was happy to be up and out walking in the brisk fall morning.

Leaves cover the landscape in a blanket of gold, red and brown.  The air is crisp.  The sun has not yet crested the South Hill.  Squirrels are hyper-active, preparing for winter, foraging food and running around in pairs.  I wonder if fall is mating season for squirrels.

Almost to my destination, I pass a three to four foot high rock wall and startle some squirrels. They rustle in the bushes as I walk past then WHOOSH, one squirrel leaps to the sidewalk behind me, so close to me that I feel his movement as he passes.  At the same time, WHOOSH, another squirrel leaps to the sidewalk in front of me, so close that I thought he was going to jump on me.

Startled and fearful that I was under squirrel attack, I yell out “AGH!”

Unsure of what just happened, I failed to notice that the elevation sidewalk in front of me popped up from a tree root, a common Spokane sidewalk hazard. Within seconds after the squirrel attack, my left foot tripped over the sidewalk.  Disoriented from the squirrel savages, I could not regain my footing.  Momentum pitched me forward like I was sliding into home plate.  No home run, only ice-cold concrete scraping into my hands and knees as I landed hard.

“OUCH!”

I laid on the sidewalk for a moment to assess the damage.  Nothing seemed to be broken and I was thankful that I didn’t ricochet my chin or forehead off the concrete.  I was also thankful that there were no witnesses, other than my psychotic squirrel friends.

I picked myself up and limped to the bakery, extremely in need of my first cup of coffee for the morning.  Yes, all this and I haven’t had coffee yet.

My right knee is skinned from bottom to top and makes my boys squirm when they see it.  Ouch.  My left knee isn’t a pulverized mess but is bruised and more stiff than the right.  Ouch.  My left hand is scraped, and my brand new workout gloves are shredded.  Ouch and damn.  The front of my down jacket was shredded and white fluff was flying out as I walked along. This I’m actually ok with because I wanted a new down jacket but couldn’t justify the purchase.  This is not how I wanted to get a new jacket though.

Meeting my co-room mom for the first time, I was quite a sight.

After our meeting, I limped home.  Up hill.  My husband asked what was wrong.  I showed him my wounded knee. The mistake I made in answering his what and how questions was starting the story with “I was attacked by squirrels.” He was concerned but had a good laugh.

The boys were grossed out and though they could appreciate my squirrel attack story, I had no nursemaids.

The only sympathy I received was from the grocery store checker who asked how my day was going as he rang up my groceries.  I started the story the same way with him as I did with Vince.  “I was attacked by squirrels.”  The checker told me his recent experience how one squirrel jumped so close to his head that he ducked and cracked his head on the door of his truck.

Squirrels are crazy right now, people, proceed with caution.

 

October 31 October 18, 2013

Halloween.  October 31st.

Trick or Treating is still scheduled for the 31st, but Spokane schools have decided this is the year to not celebrate Halloween.

What?!?

I just read the newsletter that came home Wednesday while I was out-of-town.  In response to pressure from many “groups,” Halloween is not celebrated in the classrooms on Halloween.

The Parent-Teacher Group at our school decided to host a Monster Mash on October 25 from 6-8 PM.  The designated “fall holiday” will be celebrated by classrooms on November 8.

My kids are shell-shocked, not fully grasping that they won’t get to wear their costumes in class. I’ve sold them this bill of goods as three fun events instead of one.  They will get to dress up and participate in the Monster Mash, a dance, pumpkin bowling and other great stuff.  Then they will trick or treat in the neighborhood.  The grand finale will be the Harvest Party  in November.

What really grates me is the Monster Mash requires costumes by October 25!  A full week in advance of Halloween.  Apparently the PTG isn’t a group of seamstresses.  Instead of having two weeks to sew, I know have 7 days.  So much for an R & R weekend for me.

Of course, to further complicate matters, my boys haven’t decided what they want to be this year.  They too thought they had more time.

To get us in the mood and inspire us all, tonight the boys carried up from the basement the boxes of Halloween decor and costumes from year’s past. The house is decorated and costumes are strung from one end of the house to the other as the boys sifted and sorted through and tried on costumes trying to decide what to wear, what to “be.”

Lots of ideas, but no firm commitment from any of them on what to be.  I’ve given the hard deadline of 8 AM tomorrow morning to commit to a costume, so I can start my day at the fabric store.

We have awesome costumes in the boxes.  Curses to me for encouraging creativity and originality.  The cactus, the outlaw cactus variation, the vampire, the evil jester, the skeleton, and the super cool Club Penguin Fire Sensei costume have been cast aside as “maybe” (read: if I have to. most likely no way).  Don’t even suggest wearing dad’s letterman jacket circa 1985.

The boys impulsive choices all deal with evil this, death that or some variation that involves weapons. Halloween is barely allowed and you think these costume choices will be permitted?  Think again my friends.

I suggested they go as fox and sing the catchy What Does The Fox Say?  They said no way.  I suggested unicorns and rainbows but that resulted in a fight over who would be the horse’s ass, not what I had envisioned.  Why do “unicorns and rainbows” always incite a riot?

We’ll have to see what they chose in the morning.

Maybe boycotting Halloween this year isn’t a bad idea after all.

 

Live from New York! October 10, 2013

Ok, not live.  This post was previously recorded.

Previously lived, recorded live in Chicago tonight.

It has been a busy week.  And it’s only Thursday.

My travels took me to New Jersey this week, as you know from prior.  Despite the rain and threats of tornado on Monday late afternoon, I lived like a Jersey Girl.  Armed with trench coat and umbrella, I took the train from Newark Penn Station to New York Penn Station, a 40 minute round trip ride, a $10 bargain, to get a dose of the Big Apple.

It is no wonder people yell at the top of their lungs, “I love New York!”  I’ve been to NYC several times, but this city never ceases to amaze me. The downside was that it was really humid on Monday, so this city can stink like no other.  Gross.  Once you’re nose desensitizes to the funk, your other senses are overwhelmed with the sights, the sounds and the energy.

NY Penn Station is near Madison Square Garden.  I joined the masses heading up 33rd Street before hanging a left and strolling down 5th Avenue.  Praise be to the grid system and numbered streets and avenues.  What an easy city to get around!

I was on a mission. Remember the Real Simple book list of 50 Great Books That Will Change Your Life? http://www.realsimple.com/work-life/entertainment/great-books-00100000101474/index.html

I am determined to read all of these books by year-end.  You know me, lists and personal challenges.  Who I am, what I do.  One of the books on this list is Apartments for the Affluent:  A Historical Survey of Buildings in New York. https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4689278-apartments-for-the-affluent

Let me remind you from my August rant, that this book was deemed a Great Book that Will Change Your Life by Alexa Hampton, an interior designer and author of an interior design book.

The beauty of this book is that it is completely near-impossible to read, unless you want to drop $875 USD on a used version available through Amazon, or, do as I was doing, going to the New York Public Library, Stephen Scharzman Building, Room 121 to view a reference copy.  Since the June publication, Real Simple, I still think it’s ridiculously lame of you to put an unavailable book on this list.  Not every person gets to go to New York. Just lucky ones, like me.

Honest.  That’s why I went to New York City.  To go to the library and read a book.  Not just any library.

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Nothing in life comes easy, neither did my efforts at reading this 159 page book.  When I entered Room 121 of the Stephen Schwarzman Building of awesomeness and grandeur, I was informed that I couldn’t view the book without an NY Public Library Card.  envision my eyes welling with tears.  Thankfully, the librarian had no time for my senseless emotion and set me up to register for a library card.  Yes folks, I am a card-carrying member of the NYPL.  Badass, I know.  Can I get a whoop whoop?

With my new plastic, I was told to take a seat while the library aide retrieved the only copy of this book in-house.

Why are books made with turd brown book covers?  Really, don’t judge a book by its cover, but this nondescript turd brown specimen gave me little hope for life changing effect as the result of reading this book.

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I should point out here that this list of 50 has GREAT books.  On my flight to NJ, I read Thich Nhat Hanh’s Being Peace. Everybody read this book, right now. Life changing.  Another incredible book on this list is Day of Honey:  A Memoir of Love, Food and War.  Life changing, perspective altering.  Read!

Yet here I sat in an amazing library armed with a skinny book that didn’t give me much hope.  I checked the copyright and title page for inspiration.  1975 was the date of publication.  1975 explains the brown binding.  Before I slumped with “ugh, dated material” I reminded myself that I read Huckleberry Finn and Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, also on this book list,  far older material than 1975.  I also commented to myself that these pieces of literature are timeless classics.

I got down to business and started reading.  The book allows two open book pages for each apartment building referenced.  Each building lists the year built, the architect, the contractor, a floor plan, and an exterior photo of the building as well as current status of building. For example, the oldest buildings listed from the 1800’s have been razed and exist no more.  All of the other buildings stills standing have been gutted, remodeled, renovated beyond recognition to their original state.  I totally understand the need for historic preservation of these floor plans, but life changing?  No.  Though I’m certain to cause a stir in my company (a good conversation topic, discuss amongst yourselves), these floor plans are not relevant.  Good historical data, cool but so is flapper slang, but not timeless, not earth shattering, ineffective but good information.

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I read the book, cover to ugly cover then took my library card carrying butt back to the streets of New York for a good time.  Headed back the way I came, I ventured to a familiar favorite, Eataly (Mario Batali and Lidia Bastianich are co-owners) in the Flatiron district on 23rd Street and 5th Avenue.

I sat at the bar at one of Eataly’s many restaurants, La Verdure, and very much enjoyed Farroto con Broccoli (farro risotto with broccoli puree, leek, garlic, romanesco broccoli florets (the purple ones) and grana prado). Viva Eataly!

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Back to the streets, I made my way to Chelsea Market where I sat at the Milk Bar and had an ice cream cone, and watched people pass. I treated myself to some new espresso cups at my favorite little kitchenware supply shop and bought the Chelsea Market Cook Book to add to my collection.

Walking the High Line back to  32nd Street and straight into NY Penn Station.  Thanks to my teenager insight, I logged my walking miles on my Charity Miles App.  My 6 mile loop made a donation to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Foundation.  Check out the App.   Several charities are available.  You select your charity and start running or walking, generating a donation as you go.  My daughter is doing the #80challenge, to accrue 80 miles this month.

My 6 miles were completed in the dark, at night, in NYC.  One block gave me a little concern but I persevered and took my train back to Newark.  Nightwalking in NYC by myself may be the true badass part of my story, but my library card gave me street cred.

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Be Well October 5, 2013

University recruiting is my favorite part of my job.  Not only do I travel to great cities, awesome universities that make me want to go back to school, I also get to meet really inspiring, energetic and brilliant students that renew my faith in humanity with their fearlessness, maturity and ambition.  These fantastic youth also carry germs.  The only job hazard I have, other than tripping on my way down the hall from my kitchen to my office in my own house, is catching these germs while on campus.  I shake hands with anywhere from 200-300 students.  Despite my hand-sanitizing efforts, I manage to catch their colds every fall.

I’ve tried not shaking hands, keeping my hands behind my back and just nodding but being reserve and intrinsic isn’t my style.  I’m really a hugger so engaging in a handshake is more my speed.

So after my whirlwind tour of Toronto, Cincinnati and Denver last week with poor sleep habits, I invariably caught a cold and ear infection.  I emailed in sick to work on Friday.  How lame is that?  Dear Boss, can’t make it to work today, I’m sick.  This doesn’t mean I can’t stumble down the hall and turn on my office light and sit in front of my computer.  Me calling in sick means I can not peel my head off my desk to look at my computer screen and no way possible am I able to talk on the phone.  I am unable to represent, therefore I am sick.

Sleeping all day Friday and not dragging myself out of bed until 10:30 AM this morning (plus some good meds from Urgent Care) and I’m back among the living.

Let me tell you, nothing thrills my husband more than me being gone for a week then being sick for a week.  How can I make it up to him?  Not well….I’m gone this next week and part of the following too.  Love, love will keep us together (Captain and Tenille quote) but we’re looking forward to October 19 when our lives return to normal.

Being well is my goal.  What better way to be well than to go out at night in the brisk 50 degree weather that’s quickly dropping into the low 40’s tonight for some Halloween fun!  Tonight we went to the Incredible Corn Maze (shout out http://www.incrediblecornmaze.com), specifically for the Haunted Corn Maze.

Here are my Children of the Corn:

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There were four mazes, some up a couple of miles long!  We did two of the mazes, including the haunted maze.  IT WAS AWESOME!!!  The mazes are cut into the corn field.  The haunted maze, with no dead ends, had  people jumping out and scaring the bejeezus out of you.  In the dark!  We ran, we screamed, we tripped, we fell, we laughed and laughed and most of all, we had tons of fun.  At the end, a very tall guy in a zombie clown mask carrying a real sounding but fake blade chainsaw jumps out and chases all who pass.  He chased our three boys almost all the way back to the ticket booth!  This isn’t a spoiler…you see him chasing others while you wait your turn.  Yet our boys kept running, and he kept chasing.  adrenaline was pumping at the end.

Part of our move to Spokane from Orange County California was to expose our kids, and us, to new experiences.  Corn mazes, especially haunted corn mazes and on this scale, are definitely something they never would have experienced in Southern California.  Growing up in Ohio, with plenty of corn fields, we didn’t have corn mazes, so this was a fun “first” experience for all.

A great family night outside, enjoying Autumn weather, getting a taste of Halloween fun and trying something new.

Be well.

 

Oh The People You Will Meet September 28, 2013

Two countries, five cities in 5 days done!  A whirlwind yet very productive trip.

In case you don’t know, I am a corporate recruiter for an international design firm, specializing in architecture, interior design, civil engineering and graphic design.  The company has fourteen offices throughout North and South America and I am responsible for recruiting all levels of employees for each of these offices, interns through Director level roles.  I’ve worked with the firm for over ten years, eight of which have been telecommuting from home.  Some days I don’t like working, but every day I love my job.

My travels are the result of university recruiting efforts to find architecture and interior design interns and new graduates for each of our offices.

This past week, I visited our Toronto office and supporting universities: Humber College, University of Waterloo, and Ryerson University.  After the job fair at Ryerson University I caught a late night flight to Columbus Ohio where I spent the night before heading to an internship fair at the University of Cincinnati.  The last leg of my trip was visiting our Denver office and the University of Colorado at Denver.

Having the gift of gab and being a freak magnet, this post is dedicated to the most interesting people I met on my journey.

Toronto’s downtown is reminiscent of New York City but on a smaller scale.  Dundas Square, near Ryerson University, looks like Times Square, Canadian-style.  One huge advertisement of HGTV’s Property Brothers made me smile.

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[Photo credit:  Bing Images Dundas Square, I am not this talented]

Picture me with my roly-cart filled with brochures and other recruiting propaganda in one hand, and in the other hand, carrying my banner display (5″ x 5″ x 53″), half lost, half walking straight toward my destination when a guy, most likely homeless but with coveted transportation, approaches me and asks apologetically if I could buy him a cup of coffee. We were near a street vendor selling coffee.  I don’t like handing out cash but I appreciated his targeted marketing approach and bought him his coffee.  Which, by the way, took me ridiculously long to do since, unfamiliar with the Canadian monetary system – bills are mainly 5, 10 and 20’s.  One and two dollars are coins, plus all the other coinage.  Jingle jangling my coins, I successfully purchased this man a cup of coffee without incident.  A very non-threatening downtown environment.  Kudos Toronto!

Toronto is a melting pot of international students.  At one university, I met a Middle Eastern man, named Mohammad, that had his hair and beard trimmed in such a way, that along with his hawkish nose, was a striking resemblance to Abraham Lincoln.  He wasn’t tall, and I was tempted to mention the likeness but chickened out.

I met another man of Indian origin studying civil engineering.  He had dark brown skin and shaggy black hair, who had incredible eyes the color of blue crystals, .  While we discussed opportunities at my company, I was so distracted by his eyes I had to interrupt the conversation to ask if his eyes were truly that blue.   He laughed and said it was “a genetic impossibility” (it’s funnier when you say it with your best Indian accent as he said it to me).  Turns out he was wearing colored lenses.

Recently having read, The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison, I was intrigued that he chose to change his eye color.

Columbus and Cincinnati flew by so quickly I hardly had a moment to think let alone time to meet anyone of interest.  People from Ohio always rank high as the nicest people in the US.  I’m not saying that because I’m from Ohio either.  Ok, maybe I am, but aside from me, Ohioans are very nice.

My mind was pretty well gone by the time I caught my flight out of CVG, Cincinnati’s airport located in Kentucky, to Denver.  For the most part, I am a good traveller.  I do what I’m supposed to do, sit where I’m supposed to sit, be where I need to be.  For this leg of my journey, with no brain power, I sat in the wrong seat once I boarded the flight. Not entirely wrong.  I sat in the correct row, just in the “B” seat, not the “A” seat as assigned.  An elderly gentleman approached the row and, with an English accent, said “Madame, you are in my seat.” Flustered, I didn’t realize or understand my error, so he told me, basically, to scoot over one.

This guy was an interesting sight.  Approximately in his early 70’s, wearing khaki pants tucked into knee-high black leather boots, a white turtleneck shirt, with a khaki vest and black Greek fisherman hat.  Pinned to his vest were flight wings labeled, “Tasmanian Air Club.”  We spoke only briefly before he fell asleep.  When he awoke we shared why we were going to Denver.  He told me he was being interviewed in Colorado Springs.  He had just left a speaking engagement at Asbury University in Wilmore, Kentucky.

Based on what he had told me and his outfit, I couldn’t figure out his topic of discussion or interview.  I had to ask.  He told me his field is Applied Christianity. Internal groan, I thought for sure he was going to hit me on the head with an evangelical bible at this point.  I did notice at this point that a large 3″ cross around his neck, bedazzled with black crystals.

He told me he lives on the island of Malta and would return the next day.

Then, what he told me next, blew my mind.

Turns out this old man was Douglas Gresham, stepson to C.S. Lewis and movie-maker extraordinaire.  No bells ringing yet?  C.S. Lewis wrote The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.  Narnia.

Dougie, (yes Mr. Gresham, I know, but I’m still not connecting the wardrobe with The Wardrobe so we’re keeping it friendly), told me that he was born in New York, moved to London after his parents’ divorce, mother married “Jack” aka CS Lewis who adopted Douglas and his brother, Douglas married Merrie and they moved to Tasmania (aha the pin!) where he farmed and was a bush pilot.  They lived in Australia before moving to Ireland and establishing Rathvinden Ministries.  Mr. and Mrs. Gresham now live on Malta where he produces movies and she is an evangelist.

Turns out his bedazzled cross was designed by his daughter who is a jeweler.  The black crystals are black diamonds, of course, silly me to think he picked it up at Walmart in Kentucky.  He wore several rings, two of which were also designed by his daughter, both sporting a Narnia theme, one with Reepicheep the mouse, the other, along with the cross, Aslan.

We found common ground discussing two of my favorite topics, gardening and jam-making.  His vegetable garden supports he and his wife and two missionary families.  Once he returns to Malta, Douglas and Merrie will visit their home in Australia (his island, he called it) mainly because the mangoes will be ripe and they want to attempt mango jam.  We also discussed his olive trees on Malta and how they put up 56 jars of olives last year, this year they will attempt olive oil.

We were trapped in our seats for 20-30 minutes on the tarmac in Denver waiting for a gate to become available as we were punished for arriving early.  We had a terrific conversation and not once was I beaned with a bible or even questioned on my religion.  He was thrilled to learn of my four children and their appreciation of the C.S. Lewis stories and the love of Mr. Gresham’s work.

Go ahead and google Douglas Gresham.  A very fascinating gentleman.  I snapped this photo as we were waiting for our carry-on baggage that was checked at the gate.

mr gresham

My day in Denver was good.  The folks at the University of Colorado Denver were great. Our Denver office is always one of my favorites.  I was also able to squeeze in a quick visit with some friends that Vince and I love dearly.

My trip ended well, despite the slight bump in Denver airport where my departing flight for home was delayed an hour and then the lid of my extra hot tea popped off and burned the heck out of me.  After waking up at 6 AM eastern standard time, I was delirious by the time I got home at 12:15 AM pacific standard time.  A long but adventurously good day.

My favorite part about my trip, beyond the sights and travel itself, was and always will be the people you meet on your journey.

 

Final Quatro Quatro September 20, 2013

Filed under: Life — multihyphenatedme @ 10:20 pm
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One of my favorite football players is Chad Johnson, formerly known as Chad Ochocinco.  I guess he got into some trouble with the law and was released from his contract with the Miami Dolphins in 2012, I don’t support whatever mess he’s gotten himself into.  What I think is great about him is his love for his jersey number, #85, so much that he changed his last name to Ochocinco.

Ever since I’ve learned of Ochocinco, I refer to my age the same way.  Tonight I end my quatro quatro year.  Just as I’m sure the Spanish language has a word for eighty-five, I love the play on forty-four. I’m supposed to be learning Spanish, so I looked it up, eighty-five is ochenta y cinco in Spanish and forty-four is cuarenta y quatro.  Complicated!  Ochocinco and quatro quatro is much easier for this gringa.

My Spanish lessons are not going so well.  I’m should be spending time with Rosetta Stone every day but find listening to Pit Bull, Shakira, Enrique Iglasias and Ibrahim Ferrer while on my morning walks is a good daily dose of the Spanish language.  I sing along (or at least make up the words as I go), that should count for something.  Music is universal, right? when I travel to our Latin America offices and local universities, I’ll just break into song and everyone will love me.  Ok, probably not, but this is the excuse I’m going with today.

Back to today.

This post really isn’t about Chad Ochocinco Johnson or the lack of my discipline for Spanish lessons.  This post is about the end of my cuarenta y quatro, quatro quatro, forty-fourth year.

Forty four was good to me. A healthy year with more personal growth than decline. A year spent surrounded by friends and family and involved in all the activities that come with both groups. Of course it is the year we moved and have experienced so many new adventures and have so many more ahead.  Overall, it was a very good year.

And now moving forward to the big 4-5.  Five away from fifty.  Almost halfway to one hundred.  There’s perspective for you.  I really don’t have much to say about it.  Aging up doesn’t bother me.  I embrace my age, gray hair, crinkles, wrinkles and dents as they come.  All of it comprises where I’ve been, what I’ve done, what I’m doing and who I am.  Aging up is a fun ride, a long slow ride.

beth

This is me at 40.  I look the same.  Trust me.  Just take a sharpie and add some extra “laugh lines” and sprinkle some flour on my head for the gray hair and the photo is current.

A toast to the old and cheers to anew (I’m raising my cup of chamomile tea – I’m getting old, do you think I’m out drinking and blogging? We learned a while ago that’s a bad combination).

Thank you for being part of my forty-fourth year. Whether I know you or not, connected to me personally or through social media or through this blog, thank you for being connected to me, part of my life.