multi-hyphenated-me

the hyphens that define my life

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.

 

Monster Mash October 25, 2013

Filed under: Family,Gardening — multihyphenatedme @ 10:46 pm
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Spokane schools, as a district wide rule, do not celebrate or acknowledge Halloween on the actual day.  Instead, the Parent Teacher Group hosts a Monster Mash where all students are invited to attend, in full costume, for two hours of fun that includes pumpkin bowling, dancing, a shockingly great science station and snacks.  Having had kids in public schools for 15 years, this is the first I have ever experienced not including a nationally recognized holiday and the first I have ever experienced a Monster Mash.

Yet not celebrating Halloween in school isn’t my biggest issue.  What rubs me wrong is that the Monster Mash is one full week before Halloween, seriously cutting into my sewing, crafting and creativity timeline.  Sheesh!  October has been, forgive the use of this over used phrase, CRAZY BUSY!  Really.  Insane.  Toronto, Columbus, Cincinnati, Denver, Newark, NYC, Chicago filled two weeks of travel for work.  Then I spent three days in Seattle with my family for health issues.  In 30 days I have been home thirteen days.  Four of these thirteen days I had a cold thanks to those germy college students.

So what, suck it up.  Other than the cold, my month has been great, just not enough time that I would like to spend on Halloween costumes.  The past three nights have been extremely late nights.  Burning the midnight oil and multiple glue sticks, two of my three costumes were assembled with last-minute touches this afternoon before the big event.

My 9-year-old decided to be a Raven.  I had read Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven to him recently and he wanted to be an evil raven with talons and feet and feathers and wings.  He probably wanted to be able to fly too, but I had three nights.  Here’s what he got.

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My biggest concern working with feathers was to not make him look like Phyllis Diller in her feather dress.  When my son had a fitting midway through the production process, his eyes welled with tears.  He was not happy when I thought I was more than halfway done.  The costume started as an old Voldemort pullover costume with hood and sleeves.  I glued feathers to the ragged fringe that hung down at the bottom and from the sleeves.  This is where he tried it on.  He wanted real wings.  I really should stop saying that I have mad skills.  My kids have the bar set really high for me and it’s my own fault.  With cardboard, a wire hanger and a whole lot of feathers, the wings on his hands were created, glued to black knit gloves and tied at the wrist for stability.  The mask was a crow’s mask with a yellow beak and gold sequins and black feathers.  I painted the mask black and glued the sides to the hood to create a more rounded look.  Getting his Hanes’ black sweatpants after going to two, not one, but two Wal-Marts to find them added to the time involved in pulling off this costume.  Not my best work, but considering the challenge and the time involved, I think it turned out pretty awesome.

Keep in mind that I have two in elementary school, so the raven was just half of my workload.  My young buck wanted to be Zombie Atlantis or a Zombie Diver.  My mother-in-law sent him this awesome round, costume plush and pliable diving helmet.  Add zombie makeup, green hair color, some hair gel and his own Hanes’ sweat suit (from the same two, not one but two, trips to Walmart), his costume was complete.

My youngest owns every gray hair on my head and there are plenty.  Last night he informed me, after loving his costume all week, that a black sweat suit, representing a black wet suit, wasn’t good enough.  He, being way to damn techno-saavy, pulled up some Google images of real vintage diving suits and he wanted the whole suit, not just the helmet.  Of course.  What was I thinking?

Today, I realized, he just doesn’t like change.  He wanted to wear his store-bought skeleton suit that he has worn two years running.  He just got caught up in the Halloween-I-gotta-have-a-new-costume-hype and had a new helmet costume to start and the ball just kept rolling.

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The skeleton costume is too small too, but that doesn’t stop my youngest son.

The Monster Mash was packed with entire families, grandparents, extended family and pretty awesome.  The boys had a blast, my husband and I met new people and we became more familiar with the school.

The class won’t get to sample my fun Halloween wares like these that I made last year, but Halloween is off to a good start.

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Now one more costume to go….

 

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.

 

Bi-cycle! Bi-cycle! Bi-cycle! September 19, 2013

I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride my bike
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride it where I like

~Queen, Bicycle Race

My super stealth new bike is AWESOME!

Maybe it isn’t so stealth or super or new, but I do have a bike to peddle around town.  Last weekend, we bought this vintage three speed, wicker basket included, through Craigslist and managed to meet a cool couple in the process.  We dropped the bike at the bike shop for a tune up and new tubes and picked it up this morning, shiny and new to me.

I am giddy.  I want a mountain bike (a basic model like the one my husband sold at our “we’re moving” garage sale) to take on the awesome trails around Spokane, and/or I want a road bike, to compete in at least one more sprint triathlon and to ride the Centennial Trail through Washington and Idaho.  For now, my Sears Robuck, 70’s model, brown 3-speed with boss orange and yellow stripes will take me where I need to go.

My first ride was at lunch today.  I went at midday mainly because it was 45 degrees (F) at 6 AM when I could have gone instead.  No thanks chilly weather, I’ll wait until the day warms.  I set out for the library branch that is nine-tenths of a mile from our house.  From there, I headed to the grocery store and picked up a couple of things I needed for dinner.  Within 31 minutes, I rode 3.6 miles roundtrip and burned 257 calories (thank you Endomondo App). AND I managed to run two errands while getting some exercise.  That’s efficient multi-tasking right there my friends.

I would love to tell you that my ride was smooth and the bike is flawless.  No.  Like me, the bike is aging quickly.  I only found two of the three gears and though I was shifting, the gears changed when they were good and ready.  No worries, I understand.  My spiffy new basket was great empty and performed well with four library books.  However, when I added a bag of groceries it started squeaking like a mouse.  Eek, eek, eek, eek, eek, the entire mile and a half home.

Spokane roads are rough and rugged.  Locals will tell you that all the state money goes to Seattle so our roads get little to no attention.  Local legend also claims that studded tires that people use all winter tear up the roads.  I don’t know about funding, but studded tires are not the issue.  Freeze and thaw yourself time after time and you’d buckle eventually too.   The roads in a car feel bumpy.  On a bike, let me just inform you that I stood up a good portion of my ride.  The bike does sport a very comfy fat ass seat for which I am thankful.

My boys told me that it looked like a Mary Poppins bike.  Wrong, Mary Poppins had a carpet bag. My friend asked me “Where’s Toto?” I can only assume she was calling me old spinster Miss Gulch.  Hmph!  I love my bicycle and really don’t care if I look like Mary Poppins or Miss Gulch or Kermit the Frog or even worse.  My boys won’t laugh when I can outride them on their bmx bikes. My gears will kick in eventually.

Bicycling around my local neighborhood has me super excited, if you haven’t noticed.  I can’t wait for my next ride.

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Open House September 17, 2013

Filed under: Life — multihyphenatedme @ 8:55 pm
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School has been in session all of 12 days, time to have Open House at the elementary school.

We were excited to sit in the classrooms and learn about Spokane Public Schools.

Our 3rd grader has struck a chord with his teacher, and she loves him already.  Thankfully she has a soft spot for squirrelly boys and appreciates his charm and energy.  His class consists of 23 kids, a fourth fewer students than his 2nd grade class.  This can only be good.

Our 4th grader is in a 3rd/4th combination class.  When I first learned that he, our most diligent student, was in a combo, I nearly lost my mind.  I marched to the school office and said, “No way, no how.”  That weekend, at a block party the weekend before school started, I met two moms with 4th graders in the same class.  They told me the teacher was a dynamo and rest-assured that she will challenge my son and there will be nothing lost on his 4th grade experience.  “Uh-huh, ok, let’s see.”  The first day of school, I poured out my heart to this lovely teacher explaining that school is the one place my middle child gets to be himself and shine.  I didn’t want my 4th grader to share a 3rd grade experience.  She listened and appreciated my concern, told me “he will do just fine” and sent me on my way.

Sigh.  I was concerned.  Then, as time passed, information came home, and then sitting through the class presentation tonight, I am on board with the combo class and this incredible teacher.  My kids have been in combo classes before and I don’t mind them typically, since I’ve known the teachers.  Coming in blind, I was neurotic.

The 3/4 combo has 25 kids, again, a fourth fewer than his prior class.  What an amazing difference in what a teacher can accomplish with 8 less kids!

The biggest noticeable differences from California to Washington schools are that music and art are separate classes.  Fine arts lives in the northwest!!  My 3rd grader proclaimed he was a singer and sings, out loud, every day.  He does manage to carry a tune fairly well too!

The boys were first shocked that the cafeteria was indoors – and in the basement – not outside, not realizing that serious weather is on the way.  One thing both boys love about their new school is the gymnasium complete with a rock climbing wall. Their all-time favorite difference between their old and new schools is the school hours.  In California, the kids went to school from 7:45 AM – 2:15 PM with early release at 1:15 on Wednesdays.  In Spokane, school hours are 9:00 AM – 3 PM with late start at 9:30 on Thursdays.  I love the school hours too!  No more early morning battles to get out of bed.  They are hoping for snow days in addition to what is built into the calendar, little do they know that they make up those days in the summer.

We are thrilled with the boys school, teachers and classrooms.  Hurray!

Next week we have middle school open house.  From what I’ve seen already, and our 7th graders reports, our school research prior to our move has really paid off well.  WHEW!

 

Attack of the Grandmas and Grandpas September 12, 2013

Spokane has an incredible amount of restaurants.  Not the corporate chain dining variety either, though that type is here too.  The restaurants in Spokane are primarily independent restaurants, some family owned, some just a chef and a dream.  Because there are so many restaurants, we have decided no repeat visits unless the restaurant is unanimously agreed to by our family as absolutely terrific. Not many unanimously pass the test as we have a diverse batch of taste buds in our family fivesome.

Tonight was not a planned dinner out, but it was 95 degrees today, Vince was busy, so the boys and I decided to venture out and grab a meal.  Andre was on a one way path directed straight for a chicken pot pie.  The trick is, finding a chicken pot pie is not so easy the final days of summer.   There’s this little restaurant near our house that had a yelp review as a “Grandma restaurant”. If any place would have pot pie on the menu, this would be my best shot.  

A Grandma’s restaurant it was indeed!  Wall to wall silver hair matched the wall to wall industrial carpet.  My boys were the youngest in the room.

Two minutes before walking in the door and they were messing around and driving me batty.  Then, we walk in, all the old eyes looked our way and bip-bam-boom, the boys pulled their acts together and fell in line.  Old lady hands reached out to them to say hello as they walked by and my boys were kind and considerate and loudly spoke hello.  Once one lady got a handshake, the whole row we passed held out a hand or patted them on the back.

The boys’ eyes were as big as saucers when we finally got to our table, asking me what kind of place is this? Andre commented “This restaurant is full of grandmas and grandpas!”  Of course I’m laughing and telling them it is the best restaurant ever.

The need for pot pie vanished as Andre’s love for dinosaur chicken reigned supreme.  Really?  I’ve left the comfort of my home for dinosaur chicken?  All entrees came with peaches, pears or green beans if that is any indication of the menu selection.

There was a table of three ladies that walked in right before us.  They only ordered dessert and the boys were impressed with their choices and could hardly wait to finish their meal.  Like a cafeteria, this restaurant served anything pre-made, canned or frozen and reheated.  Even their pies were purchased across the street from the grocery store. 

In spite of my years of hard kitchen labor to produce incredible dinners, my boys loved their meals. Our dinner took longer than usual to eat as every time a group got up to leave, they purposefully walked by our table to say that they had been admiring my boys, or what good boys I have or to tell them to be good to their mom (my personal favorite).  All the grandpas shook the boys hands or patted their backs and the grandmas squeezed their shoulders or tousled their hair.  By the end of our meal, the boys were forewarning each other “Here they come behind Niko,” “on your left, Trace.”

The boys then ordered dessert – the Brownie Thrill – a brownie with ice cream and a ridiculous amount of whipped cream piled high.  This sent the old folks into a tizzy and gave them such joy to watch the boys mow down their treats.

When we finally “escaped,” the boys all agreed we would never go back.  I think I found my favorite new restaurant.  Not for the food, that’s for certain, but for the ambience and entertainment, albeit torture, for my boys.  Attack of the Grandmas and Grandpas is the best.

 

Shrub Emergency September 8, 2013

On today’s project list was to plant eight boxwood hedges to continue the row across the front perimeter of our yard that inexplicably stopped at the halfway point of our yard.  Nearly completed, hedges in a row.

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All was well for shrubs one through seven.  Then as the shovel entered the ground for shrub number eight, we heard a  HISSSSSSSSS and knew immediately that we hit a gas line.  Vince shouted for me to call 911.  Within 10 minutes, the emergency call was placed and the Spokane Fire responded, with six trucks.  SIX!

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The first two rolled up and blocked traffic.

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Three more blocked traffic coming from the main arterial road.

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The chief showed up.

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Along with Spokane Rescue.

We were evacuated along with our neighbors to the east and west.  We sat on the curb across the street watching the action.

We were stunned that we hit a gas line at such a shallow depth.  My husband, with 25 years construction experience, commented that gas lines are typically sheathed in PVC, not a bare, exposed polyurethane pipe.  Or, if the pipe is exposed, then there is an indicator, like sand, concrete, tape or other notification, that the gas or electrical lines are near.  Apparently in Washington there is a LAW that says you have to call the utility company if you are going to dig to even plant a daisy to avoid hitting a line.  Here’s the thing about laws, you sometimes don’t know you’re doing wrong until you get caught breaking the law, or the gas main as in our case today.

As new citizens of Spokane, how are we supposed to know shallow lines are the norm?  How are we supposed to know to call the utility company before digging a foot down before planting a shrub?  Though ignorance is no excuse, we simply did not know; furthermore, from our experience in living in both California and Arizona, we have never been required to call for landscaping.  For serious excavation, yes, for landscaping, no.  Lesson learned.

We sat on the curb chatting up our neighbors, informing nosey passerbys what was going on and waiting.  Then….

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the local news showed up!  Vince and the neighbors quickly volunteered me for the speaking role.  Damn!  I was gardening, I didn’t even have lip gloss handy. I really wished I was wearing my teenage daughter’s “oops” sweatshirt! Thankfully they just wanted photos, no interview of the dummy that didn’t know to call.

After 20-30 minutes of us and the fire department standing around, Avista, the utility company, arrived to save the day. Within moments, the line was clamped, turns out just to be a nick in the line from the shovel tip, and we were permitted to return to our houses.

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The guy in the yellow super safety suit is the utility man in the danger zone clamping the line.

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The fire department took a tour of our house checking the gas line for leakage as gas typically travels up the line.  Thankfully, no gas was detected and the house was our again.  I wanted badly to ask for a selfie photo with the firemen but lost my nerve.  The firemen and utility man were all great and kept everyone safe.  The best part, nobody once called us a bunch of dumbasses, which we appreciated.  Funny thing, the firemen told us this was their second call, just like ours, today.  Many of our neighbors came up to us afterward and told us similar stories or their misadventures with buried gas lines.  We are in good company.

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This is an interesting photo, my last of the experience.  Our sprinkler line lies horizontal with the sidewalk.  The gas line, newly fixed, starts at an 18″ depth at the sidewalk, then quickly jumps to a 12″ depth.  Why did they change elevation when the line was installed?  Why didn’t they stay deep?

Huge thanks to Spokane Fire and Rescue for keeping us and our neighbors safe today.  Thanks to the Avista utility man for not only clamping and fixing the line but for lighting the pilot light in my second oven that has been out since we moved in.  He taught us the trick to lighting it (heating the coupler, pushing a button, something something…I hope Vince paid attention).

Boxwood hedge #8 doesn’t have a home in the front row but the hedgerow project itself is done.

Another first for us in Spokane. Broken gas line, check!  Emergency services, check!  Let’s hope this mis-adventure was our last.  Good to know the emergency teams are in place, ready when we need them.

 

In the Zone September 7, 2013

Today I went to the Friends of Manito Plant Sale.

manito plant sale 

Manito Park is one of the nation’s most beautiful parks and it happens to be a half mile from my front door.  The Friends of Manito are responsible for the spectacular gardens at the park, so when I saw that they were having a plant sale this weekend, I had to go.

The weather was cool, in the high 60’s, when I set out this morning at 9 AM.  The skies were overcast but rain wasn’t in the forecast until late this afternoon.  I really had no business attending the sale as our timeline for the front and back yard projects doesn’t begin until Spring.  I had to seize the opportunity.

A live band greeted my arrival at the sale, then BAM, sensory overload.  Tables spread out from one end of the parking lot to the next and wrapped back around to the front, filled with every type of plant, grass and flower imaginable.  Conveniently and smartly, the Friends of Manito provided shopping carts to load up the potted plants.  I bypassed the entire section of houseplants because my house is nowhere near ready for plant decor yet.

Bypassing house plants was the only time I exercised self-control.  I bought raspberry, blackberry and blueberry bushes, some with berries ready to ripen.  I have a berry patch planned for my front yard next year, but the time is now.  Our backyard is completely unlanscaped with the exception of 2 tall pines, a mountain ash and an original fountain that needs work.  The fences along the property line are low on the east side and the neighbor is against putting in a higher fence, wanting vines and other flora to green screen between the two properties.  Our westerly neighbors have a tall fence with nice architectural detail. 

To accommodate our east side neighbors, my husband and I planned to plant tall shrubs, again, in the spring.  Since I was at the sale and spring will eventually come, I bought a BUNCH of shrubs.  Several butterfly bushes, a mountain variation of hibiscus’, bee balms, hydrangeas, and a variegated elderberry.  I added a couple of dinnerplate peonies (dinnerplate size flowers!!), coneflowers,  Denver and Marmalade Rudbeckia variations of black-eyed susans.

When I was deciding which elderberry to purchase, an elderly gentleman pointed out that, whatever I do, don’t buy zone 5 plants. “Spokane,” he said “is really a zone 3 or 4 and plants from these zones thrive best.”  “Oh, thanks,” I said, totally confused.

Before I left the house, I consulted Sunset Magazines Western Gardening Book, one of the premier resources for western gardening.  Sunset’s book told me that Spokane is in zone 2, the second coldest climate in the west.  Let me inform you that zone 1 is the top of the rocky mountains, the top of the Sierra Nevada mountains and the top of all local mountains.  Brrr.  This zone, it turns out, is only specific to the Western Gardening Book and the plants it references within. 

To bring some clarity to the situation, and relieve the stress from my brain at the thought of changing out all of the plants I already selected, I consulted with a couple of Friends of Manito working the sale.  The Friends all concurred that Spokane is Zone 5 and all plantings at Manito Park are Zone 5.  Phew.  Living only a few blocks from the park, my zone 5 plant selections were safe. 

Aside from the momentary zone delirium, I was so happy, in my element, looking at plants, touching their leaves, smelling their flowers.  At checkout, I became a card-carrying member of  the Friends of Manito and look forward to participating in upcoming meetings and events.  Washington State University’s Master Gardener program had a table set up and I look forward to engaging with them soon too.

After paying for my plants, I asked the cashier if I could leave my cart behind the checkout table while I pulled my car into the loading zone.  Many people were doing the same and it was no issue that I followed suit.  When I came back with my car, my cart was gone.  I asked the checker if he knew what happened, but he didn’t know and was stunned.  I was on the verge of tears.  Tears!  I was so sad my plants were gone, not that they couldn’t be replaced, just that they were mine for a fleeting bit of time, then gone.  Sadness.

Two women walked up and said, we grabbed the wrong cart.  They had my cart!  My plants were back!  I quickly loaded up my car and brought my treasures home.  The boys unloaded the car and my husband and I plotted and planned our plantings for tomorrow.  The rain fell at 5 PM just as we were done for the day.  The photo of my plants may not look like much but they have huge growth potential, the bushes will grow up to 8 feet tall, and the elderberry can be 13 feet tall.

manito carload

In case you’re wondering, we’re in the zone, and that would be zone 5.  Know your zone!