Little Bit of Everything

I wish I could write like a country song.

(I) don't need a ranch or a big piece of land

   but I like to get a little bit of dirt on my hands

from Keith Urban's "Little Bit of Everything."

My First (solo) DD

DD Headquarters

Dave and his riding buddies have a ride they commonly refer to as The Double D, or, in written form, DD.  These two Ds stands for Dupont Dopio.  Basically, they all just ride from one of their homes in the north end of Tacoma, through Steilacoom, and out to Dupont where, conveniently, they stop at Starbucks for a quick espresso (hence the Dopio) before turning around and retracing their route back home.  Often they ride this route in the morning, before work, when they just need a quick easy thirty-five miles.  

I've ridden this route quite a few times now, but always with Dave.  This morning, however, feeling a little adventurous, I, spontaneously, decided to tackle it on my own.  Although the sky was a little bit cloudy, the sun only beginning to play peek-a-boo, I wasn't ready to turn around at my usual point, (the town of Steilacoom) so I kept going.  And I'm so glad I did, for once I started crossing through Fort Lewis, the sun was out in full force.

I know that serious cyclists enjoy riding in packs.  They enjoy looking at one another's rear-end for hours on end.  They enjoy taking pulls on the front before exiting stage-left and letting the next poor schmuck in line take his turn leading the way.  I don't think I'll ever be this kind of bike rider.  Oh, sometimes, I ride with a girlfriend (or two).  And on occasion we let our husbands come along, but more often than not, I'm on the road alone.  And I love it.  I see things that these hardliners must inevitably miss as they whiz by at speeds of twenty-five miles per hour. My average speed is about fifteen miles per hour, so it's much easier to wave to the geese,  or say hello to their little goslings as I cross the railroad tracks.  And I savor the views of the water as I "race" the ferry as it comes and goes from the Steilacoom landing.

While I didn't partake in the espresso drink that the boys enjoy,  (or do they simply require the caffeine jolt to make the return trip?) I feel proud of myself for stepping out--beyond the box.  For going a little further, for pushing my legs a little harder--All. By. Myself.  

By the time I got back home, my pride had been replaced by hunger.  In short, I was starving!  I grabbed a bowl of fruit, sat on the patio, and basked in the glow of the sun and my own accomplishment.  

Maybe stopping for a quick drink would have been a good idea.  Heck, maybe those boys know what they're doing after all.  Lesson Learned:  when feeling adventurous, bring along snack money.  

Keep on keeping on---

S- 

P.S.  Since I'm feeling so proud of myself, and still a little adventurous, maybe I'll opt for a  whole new look when I get my hair cut this afternoon.  Or, at the very least,  cover up the grays add some new color to the mix...

Nah--who am I kidding.  

Krum Kake in June?

Yesterday was the big day in Nora's class:  Heritage Day.  The day she'd been working toward for the last month or so.  The day she got to dress herself in her home-made bunad (made from one of her sister's old prom dresses, and Great Grandma's aprons) because my old one was too small for her.  

Norske Jane

It was the day she got to talk about "the old country," as my Dad calls it, and share her favorite holiday cookies with her classmates.

Since family and friends were invited to share in this world-wide celebration, Dave and I both attended.  And walking into that mock United Nations we could literally feel their excitement.  Excitement that the projects were complete, the work was done.  It was a day for celebration, a day for sharing.  A day to show off all the effort that had gone into making their reports and their display boards what they were-- little slices of culture and history.

No one did this with as much enthusiasm as Miles.   Miles is a fourth grader whose family hails from Mexico City, Mexico.  A city he has visited and looks forward to seeing again some day.  He told me ALL about his favorite foods, and how Mexico City "isn't as dangerous as other cities in Mexico because there are many police there," and he proudly showed me each and every one of his photos of pyramids and soccer stadiums.  His enthusiasm was palpable, and his descriptions of his favorite foods had my mouth watering.  He was engaging, happy, and, obviously, very proud of his heritage.  It was a pleasure to talk with him, to listen to his stories, though I don't think I could have gotten away until he was finished if I'd wanted to.  I don't know if his family attended this event, I hope so.  They should be very proud.

Nora was the last student I visited with as we were funneled through the room in a very strict order.  Thus, by the time I got to her,  I'd already eaten soda bread, warm boiled potatoes and cooked cabbage from Ireland, Vietnamese Ham, french bread that was heavily soaked in Croatian Olive Oil, and cookies from all over the globe.  

Nora's enthusiasm wasn't nearly as strong as Miles's.  In true Nora-fashion, she sat quietly on her chair and waited for people to talk to her, to ask her questions about bunads, about Norway. And if they did not, she merely munched on another krum kake cookie and waited for all the visitors to depart so her class could have their pizza party.  Because nothing shows American food culture better than cheese pizza.

Walking home after school, trying unsuccessfully to hold up her drooping skirt, she told me she was disappointed because no one wanted to eat her krum kake because everyone had tasted Meredith's first.  When I responded that her dad and I would be happy to take them off her hands, she just smiled and said she and Kailyn finished them off.  

I didn't need a Heritage Day to prove Nora's ancestry.  Like her mom, she's Norwegian through and through.  We never let baked goods go to waste.  Her grandpa, and my grandparents, taught us better than that.

Market Day

To market to market to buy a fat....

pony?

Meet Nand.  Nand is the newest member of the Larson family and Nora is totally in love with him. She shows her love for him by brushing him and braiding his mane and tail.  She dresses him in his jacket when it's cold inside and she even lets him sleep on Jack's bed, much to Jack's dismay.   She doesn't totally spoil him, however.  As you can see, she puts him to work from time to time.  Especially when she's weaving and needs help holding up her loom.

I love the fact that he doesn't leave messes in the yard and requires no feeding.  I mean a few chickens are one thing, but a horse!  That's a whole different ball game.

Nand came to us last Saturday as we pedaled home from the farmer's market.  Nora, and her keen eyes, spotted him standing proudly on a garage sale table.  She abruptly came to a halt, requested to borrow five dollars, and, after paying for him, deposited him into our cart. After joking that the horse usually comes BEFORE the cart, rather than INSIDE the cart, we continued our ride home.  

My Market Bike and new Market Cart,
courtesy of my husband.

Dave initially built this cart for Jack.  So we could haul him around with us, rather than leaving him home alone.  But Jack, being the sensible old man that he is, wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.  Even when we lined it with a beautiful burgundy rug.  Even when we loaded it with his favorite sweet potato jerky treats.  He's no fool.  

Not wanting Dave to feel bad, or have all his hard work go to waste, I claimed it as my own.  It would become my market cart.  Thus, when Saturday rolled around, Nora and I rolled out of the garage on our bikes and headed to the market.  And  I have to say, having the cart was magnificent.  Admittedly, it was a little bouncy and a little noisy as we banged our way up to Proctor Street, but once loaded down with compost, a geranium, a few strawberry plants, and a birthday present, she rolled home (almost) as quiet as a mouse.

Jack just doesn't know what he's missing.

Actually he does.  This is him from his royal seat Saturday night.  After coming out of the restaurant we found him up front--in MY seat!  And this is where he sat.  All the way home.  

Like I Said, Riddled with Bumps

How could I not?

The first two sentences read, "I have a farm on a dead-end street in the ghetto.  My back stairs are dotted with chicken turds."

I mean if that doesn't BEG further reading, what does?


Keep on keeping on-
S-

P.S.  I would like to say, for the record, that I HAVE read a few non-farming books of late.  I read Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout and I'm currently enjoying her newest novel:  The Burgess Boys.  And I have Kate Atkinson's Life After Life waiting in the wings.

Tag--You're It!

On Sunday, Dave and I took Nora and her friend to the park.  After playing and climbing on everything they could, the girls asked us to play tag.  Assuming this would be a quick game and I could resume sitting on the grass in a matter of minutes, I didn't hesitate to play.  

After about fifteen minutes of chasing these girls around the field, however, I called time-out, slowly walked over to where Dave was lounging on the grass, and requested back-up.  I could NOT catch these girls.  And unless he wanted to watch his wife suffer great humiliation and die of cardiac arrest in the middle of the field, he'd need to end this game for me.

He looked at me as if I was nuts.  How hard could it be to catch a nine-year-old?

Hard!

Dave finally cornered Nora's friend and, using that long reach of his, tagged her.   The game was over.  Thank God!  Our hamstrings were on their last strings.  He, then, joined me on the grass and we commiserated together.  When did we get so old?  

The girls, also tired of running, (at least we weren't the only ones) asked if we could go on a bike ride.  So, we helped each other off the grass, seated ourselves on our bikes, and coasted all the way home.  

So Nora may NOT be a long distance runner.... yet.  But that girl can sprint!  And make her mama feel every bit of the forty-five-year-old that she is.  

Luckily, Dave and I have some long bike rides scheduled this summer to prove to ourselves that "we've still got it." 

Keep on keeping on-

S-