Cousins and Grandkids

Completely Blessed

There are people in this world who grow up without someone to look up to, to be their role model for a whole host of things--being married, being a good parent, being a good steward of the land. There are people in this world who grow up without someone to come to their volleyball games and basketball games and track meets and marching band contests. There are people in this world who grow up without someone to give them M&M's. There are people in this world who grow up without a Grandpa.

I'm not one of these people. I grew up with an amazing Grandpa. He taught me how be a good partner to my husband-- listen, respect, let him be right some of the time. (He was married to Grandma for 62 years, he knows what he's talking about.) He showed me how to be a good parent-- discipline, compromise, but most of all, love. He taught me to take pride in the land-- Nebraska farmland or Oregon wetland, all have their purpose and place. He cheered me on at countless volleyball games, basketball games, track meets and marching band contests. He was always so proud of my accomplishment. I can't eat M&M's without thinking of him.

Grandpa passed away last week and I already miss him tremendously. There is no one to take his place. And really, no one ever can.

La Nina strikes again

I've been waiting for La Nina to arrive all year. La Nina means lots of snow and lots of snow means lots of skiing. When we started making plans for Thanksgiving at the cabin in the Wallowas, La Nina was on our side, dumping snow on the mountains just in time for some cross-country skiing.

Here's the thing about La Nina. She can be a loose cannon. The "mountain snow" started falling in town on Tuesday and turned our plans upside down. Snow covered roads from The Dalles to La Grande and highs of only 7 or 8 degrees at the cabin. Yikes. So, as you can imagine, we all scrapped plans for Thanksgiving at the cabin and Craig and Bridget came up to Portland for a couple of days. We managed to do cabin things like puzzles and play chinese checkers and of-course, drink an obscene amount of wine and eat an obscene amount of turkey. And, we did non-cabin things like watch an obscene amount of college football. But cabin or not, we have a lot to be thankful for and that never changes.

The Vanilla Ice Project

Winter has descended upon Portland--it's been raining for oh, like ever, the snow is starting to pile up, it's cold and crisp in the morning and it's dark at 4:30pm. In a valiant effort to prevent the Hoybook household from falling in the depths of severe cases of SAD, we decided to buy ourselves some cable television. (Actually, to be completely honest, after we moved, we couldn't get our digital converter box to work anymore and football season was beckoning.) Anyway, part of the "welcome offer" was that we get all of the channels (yes, ALL of them) free for three months. Three glorious months.

Well, what I thought and predicted would happen, has. I watch junk. More specifically, reality television junk. I keep up with the Kardashians, know the details of the lives of crazy Beverly Hills housewives and am getting caught up on past seasons of America's Next Top Model. I know! Junk right? I should use cable for good, but instead, I use it for evil. If you haven't seen me for week, check the couch.

On Friday night, B and I were doing a little channel surfing and since we have ALL the channels, you can surf upon some interesting stuff. So, when we saw "The Vanilla Ice Project" pop up on the menu, we bit. "The Vanilla Ice Project" is a reality show on the DIY network which follows rapper Vanilla Ice around Palm Beach while he buys, fixes up and flips a 7,000 square foot mansion. He has this tattooed posse that follows him around to do some of the dirty work and on Friday's episode, he was wearing a shirt with a handgun on it followed by the words "Pimps & Ho's". It's mostly ridiculous.

Ok, ok, it's definitely all ridiculous, but here's my question: what came first?

Did they find Vanilla Ice and say, "Hey Vanilla Ice, what are you doing these days?" "Oh, you're flipping houses?" "We should make a show about that."

or

Did they have a show about flipping houses and sat around a table and thought, "Who would be the best host for this?" "Oh, yeah, Vanilla Ice!"

Talk amongst yourselves. I have to go, there's a Project Runway marathon on.

Oh Beaverton, you're so charming.

How can anyone resist you?

Autumn in the Gorge

Last week, the Friends of the Columbia Gorge led a guided hike for the REI staff. What a Gorge-ous day!

Portland Migration

This has been a year of old friends for me. Back in March, a good friend of mine from college, Luke, came for a visit to see his brother. We had great dinner and drinks with B. Then, in September, another good friend from college, Marissa, came to Portland on a work trip. We spent the day together, taking in the Portland sights. And finally, over the weekend, Sarah was in town from San Jose. She used to live in Portland and moved a couple of years ago. It was so great to see her again and to meet her bf, Brian. I love that with all three of these friends, we could pick up right where we left off, whether it was eight years ago (Luke), five years (Marissa) or just four (Sarah). I'm so lucky they call me when they are in town!

Time to turn the heat on

Soggy Sneakers

This past weekend was a soggy wet mess. But that didn't stop me! I spent Saturday working in the bike mechanic tent at the Harvest Century ride and then Sunday morning on the streets of Portland cheering on Kendra in her 10th marathon. Even though I was soaked pretty much the entire time, it was a great preview of the La Nina headed our way this winter. Bring it on!

Katie and I waiting for Kendra at the finish.

Kendra (her 10th marathon on 10/10/10), Katie, Jody, me

End of the Year Garden Report

Another year at the garden has come to a close. Not to be dramatic or anything, but it was the worst garden in the history of gardens. Let me explain. You see, this was a tough year for gardens in the Northwest. We really didn't have a summer. It rained the entire month of June, it really didn't get hot all summer and then it rained again most of September. This is great for all of the folks who moved to Oregon to get away from the heat, but its absolutely horrible for our gardens.

Early in the season, I was having the best luck with greens and snap peas and green beans--oh boy, did I have green beans. And broccoli. We ate pounds of broccoli. Around the end of August, all of the "cool weather" crops had bolted and it was time to get excited about tomatoes and peppers. Because the early growing season was so wet and because the deer fence was working so well, the tomato and pepper plants shot up like rockets, full of stems and foliage. The fruit started to set on and I started to get worried about what I was going to do with 150 tomatoes. But then, nothing happened. The days stayed cool and the nights stayed even cooler and the green tomatoes just sat there. I had plants full of green tomatoes for about a month, tiny little peppers and okra plants that never got taller than four inches. However, we started to get lucky and the weather got a little warmer, so I thought maybe things would work out.

Then, I saw Linda at work and she delivered the blow: "The deer tore the fence down and got in the garden." I drove out to the garden telling myself that last year, "the deer only ate the leaves, they left the tomatoes alone, everything will be fine." But it wasn't. Everything was eaten. The leaves, the green tomatoes, the poblano peppers, even the jalapenos. Good lord, do I hate deer.

So, the garden report ends up like this. Tomatoes? Fail. Peppers and okra? Fail. Feeding the deer for the second year in a row? Success. Full success.

Walla Walla Washington

When I was a kid, summer held all sorts of possibilities. Day camp at Bressler Park, Girl Scout camp, church camp, swimming lessons and the annual Olson family road trip. But most importantly, summer included a "vacation" with my Grandparents. I would pack up a little bag and spend three or four days with G&G in Scribner. We would play cards, go for walks, visit Great Grandma in the nursing home, read books, go to the pool, take lunch out to the boys in the field, pick flowers and I would sit a the table and color for hours. It was one of my favorite parts of my summer and when I look back upon the time we shared, I feel so lucky.

Lucky because now, I feel like I'm running out of time with them. When you're a kid, time seems to stand still for everyone else but move for you because you grow so much. But when you're an adult, you realize that time moves at the same pace for all of us. So now, I take every opportunity to get some of that time back. G&G were in Pullman visiting Marilyn and Tim this past week and I drove out to Walla Walla on Saturday to meet them for the weekend.

At the Sheep-to-Shawl festival in Walla Walla.

Two if by Land

Now, since we were back in Anacortes and all the way up north in Washington, we couldn't help ourselves and pointed the Jeep east to North Cascades National Park. We drove highway 20 through NCNP by gorgeous Diablo Lake and then through the Methow Valley to Winthrop, Wednesday night's campsite.

Thursday morning, we awoke to rain on the tent and three ducks quacking around outside. We fueled up with cinnamon rolls in downtown Winthrop, which by the way, is all done up like an Old West town. Great and weird all at the same time. We then headed south toward Oregon.

Evening view from Pearrygin Lake State Park campground.

And, since we were so close, we took a small detour into Leavenworth, which by way, is all done up like a Bavarian village. Again, great and weird all at the same time. (P.S. We saw no less than five Husker fans in and out of the Leavenworth shops. GBR!) Then came lunch in Yakima after driving through more apple orchards than we could even count. I think all of the apples of the world come from the Yakima valley and by golly, I think I'm right.

We rolled into Portland around six tonight and started the long process of unpacking and drying out gear. Another adventure completed. What to plan next?

All Aboard

And now, a word about the Washington State Ferry System.

I have never been on a more organized public transportation system in my life. It's absolutely the best. The ferries were on time, clean and safe and ride was smooth like butter. The ferry people were always helpful, telling us where to park our bikes, answering questions, providing directions with a smile. Plus, you buy one ticket, in Anacortes, and then you can basically ride as much as you want. We rode four ferries for $16. Four bucks for a boat ride? I'll take that any day.

In the Rain Shadow

Since we were already in Seattle and since we had a gift certificate to a hotel in Anacortes, we decided to turn the football game into bike-touring road trip. Our plan? Spend Sunday night in Anacortes, hop the Monday morning ferryto Friday Harbor on San Juan Island, bike around it, camp, hop the Tuesday morning ferry to Orcas Island, bike around it, camp, summit Mt. Constitution, hop the Wednesday morning ferry back to Anacortes. Yeah, yeah, it's an ambitious plan, but definitely doable. As you know, we're definitely hard core.

Sunday night's view from the hotel window. Bleak.

Monday morning ride preparations at the Anacortes ferry dock.

View of ferry dock at Friday Harbor. Bleak.

But the biking gods shone down and cleared away the clouds just as we pulled out of Friday Harbor and pointed our bikes toward Roche Harbor on the north side of the island. San Juan Island is full of great things to do and see. Most of the island is reasonably flat farmland, with vineyards, pastures, cutewooded B&Bs and of-course, sculpture gardens.

Our lunch stop at the W.B. Sculpture Park.

Roche Harbor.

Monday night campsite at San Juan County Park.

Tuesday morning, we got up early and headed south by Lime Kiln State Park back toward Friday Harbor. This was our best chance to spot some whales, but we kept looking out on still, quiet water.

We caught the Noon o'clock ferry to Orcas Island and headed north toward the east side of the island and our Tuesday night campsite at Moran State Park. I now know why no one ever talks about how great it is to bike on Orcas Island. Because it sucks. Sure, the scenery is gorgeous--Orcas is more mountainous than the other islands-- but all of those mountains mean lots of climbing and our bikes were pretty loaded down. So when we stopped for gelato in Eastsound around 5pm, we were pretty tuckered. I'm not sure who said it first--"you know, we should just get a hotel"-- but that's all it took. B was on the phone, finding us a room. It was a great decision. We had already abandoned our Wednesday morning plan to summit Mt. Constitution, the highest point in the San Juans at 2,409 feet, so we took showers, had some great Mexican food and got a great night of sleep. We are so definitely not hard core.

We took off bright and early Wednesday morning back to the ferry dock and headed east for Anacortes.

Conclusions, i.e. lessons learned:

1. This was our first bike tour. We'll definitely do another one, but B didn't like the trailer one bit. We'll do a rack with panniers for him next time too.

2. We will not be biking the San Juans again. The whole time we just wanted to be out on the water. We will come back for sure, but next time, on a boat.