to you, who will live in my house

a single blossom on my dogwood tree bloomed, long after all the others had dropped

Today is the day. We are signing our house over to you. So much about this house is perfect, and difficult to leave. The cupboards my husband built by hand. The shelves in the office we stained in the garage. The song on the wall. The way the wood floors are so cold in the morning, and how coffee fills the house with warmth. I have loved this place since the first day I moved in, and we flooded the basement with the washing machine.
This is the house I was married in.
The house in which I spent so many nights alone, waiting for a late night call from Alaska.
We painted all of these rooms. We hung all of these doors. We made this place our home.

But, it is time to move on. Time to see what there is to be seen. Time to leave this little nest of family and friends, and see the world from a different view.

So, to you, love this space. Take care of it, as it is old. Understand that you are inheriting something important to me, something I planned to never give up. Something I still consider my home.

he who makes dinner and disasters

Yesterday we bought a trailer.

Seriously, this trip is actually happening. It is the most lovely little trailer, that only needs a few things to make feel like my own. We brought it home, and here it sits. Both houses, old and new, a past and a future.

As for the house house. Well, it is slowly becoming only walls and doors. Without all of my pretty little things, it doesn't seem so hard to leave. Although the idea that we are 7 days and counting from actually leaving, is still surreal. Scary, and overwhelming.

I tell myself that people do this all of the time. Leave. Without much thought, without much trepidation, and to places without much adventure. Yet, here I sit, on the verge of a great story, and I wonder where I will put my lamps in the meantime. I am truly a silly girl.

waking to a coffee explosion

We are back. Yes, it is true, we've gone on another (long overdue) climbing vacation. Two weeks in a row home makes a weekend away even sweeter. The weather was as good as unpredictable spring weather gets. And, the climbing, well, the climbing was spectacular.

Once again we went to the City of Rocks in Idaho. The drive lends itself to mini vacations. Camping rather than staying in the hotel. It was warm (I said) why not set up a tent.

We arrived early afternoon on friday, and no one was around. It was slightly overcast, and a bit windy. So we did a climb on the shady side of a rock. Somehow this always happens. An easy gear climb in which we summited. My first.

Back in the campground we were greeted by a large group of campers. All equally decked out in their $500 puffy jackets, and euro-vans. A lovely group. Whom needed all the space they could get. (no sense of solace there) and who were very concerned when my sweet dog stole their dogs ball. Gasp.

Saturday we went out to climb one of the funnest climbs I have done so far. It began with this slick, no holds, rotten granite, that was only a touch overhanging. The sequence through it was difficult to figure out, but possible, and included standing on a credit card thin crack, and holding on to the flat surface above. It was awesome. After taking a few huge pendulum swings I got it. Kaleb had led it with perfection. I have no idea how he does it.

Another few climbs in The City one of which I started to lead, then got really very scared and backed off. (what a cry baby). The wind picked up, and it started to rain. So, instead of freezing another night in our little tent, we went to a hotel.

Sunday was perfection. An early start and sunny day made us the only climbers in the area. A quick warm-up and Kaleb was in prime shape. A crimpy 5.11b. A gear climb that was an adventure in controlling my anxiety, and two pitches of a jug haul. Made the day.

But, let me begin with the gear climb. It was said to be a 5.10a in the first pitch, and a 5.8 in the second. Where the beta failed was in the 60 feet of unprotected off-width, and a traverse to that little 5.8 crack. I watched as my husband climbed all 60 feet, rope dangling below him, one cam, and I, were the only things that would (hopefully) keep him from hitting the ground. But this off-width was different, it was a totally disconnected piece of rock. So, imagine if you will, K standing on top of a spire, 60 feet of rope out and if he fell, it would be off the other side, the rope simply running down the space between the rocks, and not catching him until it yanked me in half. Him possible hitting the ground, or the wall, but definitely breaking his legs. That was what I was imagining, and I was already a good 60 ft off the deck. Luckily, with ego still intact, my husband decided the risk was not worth it, and backed off.

Happy Mothers Day, to both our mothers, our gift to you, our simple survival. Thank you for bringing us into this world, and standing to watch as we do dangerous things. We love you.

a wives wish

There are few things that I like more than waking up to my own clock, rolling over, and kissing the smelly mouth of my still sleeping husband.
(minus the weak sentence structure, it's a good image, no?)
This has not been happening as of late.

Lately it is the disturbingly bad music on the alarm clock that wakes me. who choose that anyway? and a rushing out the door. I would like to know what happened to the "good morning sunshine's" and "here is your coffee, just like you like it's"

Now, some of you out there may not think it is out of the ordinary to have your hubbies running out the door, not to be seen again until dark. Some of you may think him coming home stressed and less than pleasant, is a completely normal circumstance. This is not what I've come accustom to. There are benefits of marrying the snowboarding, Alaskan fly-fishing, mostly unemployed, guy who you have too much fun with. And that is pretty much everything.

It seems to me, that recently all I've been writing about is our eventual leaving. That is because it is all I think about. And recent circumstances (mostly involving the moods of my husband) has only continued my infatuation with leaving.

So, hopefully soon, I will once again be waking up to sunshine, trees, and a smelly smiling husband.