Twinners

We recently took a trip to California to see the ear doctor's parents.

Can I just tell you how great it is that my in-laws live is such an awesome place? Because it's awesome. I'm so glad they live somewhere that people actually choose to vacation.

On our way out there we were standing in line for the Southwest cattle call and there was a classy looking middle aged man standing in front of us. We were B25 and 26 and he was B23. I knew there would be another person about to walk up to us and stand in between.

A few minutes later another middle aged man walked up, presented his B24 boarding pass...made a few pleasant comments to the guy in front of us and took his place.

Simultaneously, my brain almost exploded. I looked back at the ear doctor and his eyes were the size of silver dollar pancakes. The two guys COULD HAVE BEEN TWINS!

Same age, same build, same hair, same demeanor, SAME OUTFIT!!!!!!!!



They didn't even seem to notice that they'd met their doppelganger. I was so blown away that I asked the ear doctor to take a picture so the moment could be immortalized forever.

cured meats

Last Sunday night on the Amazing race the contestants were in Italy. During the leg, they had a choice between scrubbing the dirt off an old statue and tasting/memorizing 14 different kinds of salami. As much as I love getting my powerwash on, I thought this was a no brainer. Taste testing salami in Italy? This task is rapidly moving to the top of my 10-things-I-must-do-before-I-die list.

I couldn't believe there were people on this planet that would rather don a white bunny suit, get down on all fours and scrub. The whole episode I just kept shaking my head in confusion.

But they're on a race. For a million dollars. And I guess if I thought scrubbing would be faster than eating then maybe I'd choose the same thing. But if I didn't win the million dollars, as most of them won't, I would SO annoyed that I decided to spend a warm sunny evening in Turin Italy scrubbing dirt when I could have been standing in a bustling piazza sampling some of the best salami in the world.

If I ever had the chance to be on the race I would hope that instead of doggedly, single-mindedly pursuing the end goal that I would be able to slow down, appreciate the experiences I'm having in the moment...even if they didn't seem the most efficient way to get to the end goal.

Because sometimes in my life the finish tape I had pictured in my mind while I was running the race wasn't really where I ended up when I was done.

Missing you

The ear doctor is out of town at a conference presenting his awesome research. As a result, last night I slept alone in our bed.

My dear husband has a tiny snoring situation. When we first got married I thought we weren’t going to make it because he woke me up all night long; over and over and over again. I couldn’t take it. That is, until we got our fan. The fan saved our marriage in its infancy.

This year for Christmas our in-laws got the ear doctor a humidifier. Denver is the driest place I’ve ever lived in my life and this humidifier has been a game changer. No longer do I wake up in the morning and feel like someone has shoved a triscut up my nose. Glorious!

The effect, however, has been that our bedroom at night is pretty loud. So loud, in fact, that my ear doctor husband was starting to worry about our prolonged exposure to the sound level might have a detrimental effect on our hearing. Don’t worry…he found an sound meter app for his ipad and determined that it was only 60 dB…below the level to worry about.But, to be honest, 60 dB is still pretty loud. It’s about the volume of normal conversation of people standing 3 feet from each other.

So last night when I was trying to sleep by myself I decided that since he wasn’t in bed I wouldn’t turn on the fan or humidifier. I was shocked by how quite the room was without my accustomed babble of invisible people having a conversation on the pillow next to me…

…and really annoyed when the dog’s snores woke me up...once a 1:23 AM and a second time at 3:43.

Anxiously engaged

My front yard right now looks horrible. And not just because it is the end of winter. 

There are tall dead stalks last year’s Russian Sage that didn’t get cut down. Last year’s Iris shoots didn’t get cleaned away in the fall. And not a single leaf that was trapped by the ground cover got thrown away. I got around to pulling out the dead petunia plants that looked so amazing in August, but their sad dead stems are strewn across the front yard grass instead of piled carefully away in a compost heap.  Every single time I park my car in the driveway and look over the patch of earth I call mine I shudder with embarrassment.

My mother’s garden is spectacular. Not just average, or nice, or pleasant…inspirational. And she works at it. Growing up Saturday was yard work day. She was up before dawn, garden shoes on feet and a wide brimmed hat overhead ready to take on the challenge. I’ve never seen someone work so hard or sweat so much while turning earth.  She and my dad instilled in me (and my sister I assume) not only a love of a beautiful yard, but the extreme value of being able to work hard. 

The current state of my front yard makes me feel that I’m not only disappointing my parent by squandering their lessons but also feels like a giant neon sign over my house saying “A lazy woman lives in here” with a big red arrow pointing down. 

Which is probably why my first thought at this beautiful 70 degree Denver day is not about bike riding or lemonade sipping or sandal wearing.

My first thought is, “will I have enough time between leaving work and going to my yoga class to rip all that crap out of the yard?”