Bald Mountain in the Uintas

Last week found me in Utah and on an unexpected hike up Bald Mountain (seen here) in the scenic Uinta Mountain Range.

Going for a hike was so unexpected, in fact, that I had only brought along flip-flops and ended up having to borrow sneakers from a girl's sister whose shoe size as at least comparable to my own.

I enjoy hiking--always have--as long as I can go at my own pace. I like to think of myself as "outdoorsy," but this does not necessarily translate to being in tip-top shape. That is, I like being outdoors, I like climbing around on rocks, I like camping, and I like sunlight and trees and wildflowers and lakes and birds. But that doesn't mean I can sprint up a mountainside without a few--okay, frequent--breaks to catch my breath. (I also like to blame the elevation: Vermillion, SD = 1200 feet; Bald Mountain = nearly 12,000 feet. So there.) So yes, steepish, but not grueling. When it comes right down to it, the hike itself was not too difficult. It's about two miles to the top.

We hit only one snag on our way up: Even though it is mid August, one section of the trail on the south face was covered in snow. We had to hike down on skeet-covered slopes with no sure footholds to skirt it. This wasn't too tricky going up. It was still early enough in the day that the slope was dry, if not a bit too rocky, and we were going uphill. On the way down, however, the day was warmer and some of the snow had melted. The path was still blocked, but the dirt was now mud: slippery, grainy, and slightly more treacherous.

But no one died.

One foot in front of the other, and my two friends and I reached the summit in about 90 minutes (breaks included). My motivation for the last stretch of it was to beat the group of teenage boys hiking right behind us. And yes, we made it to the top first. Go us. And the view was spectacular.

Hopefully, I'll go back again some day.

Christmas Eve

Ah, Christmas Eve, perhaps the very best day of the year, full of that giddy pre-adolescent anticipation that somehow transcends both age and all the ways the past 363 days have, in one way or another, disappointed you. Blessed Christmas spirit.

To accompany my best holiday wishes, to friends and family, allow me to share with you a shot from my neighborhood, all decked out with snow and holly and Christmas cheer. Why look! It's the Johnson boys, skating on the newly frozen pond down by Snowflake Cove. (Careful, boys! The ice is thin.) And there, Eddie Todd and Lizzy Jo, the young lovers skating arm in arm. I hear they'll be announcing their engagement any day now. (Stay warm, you two! Frostbite eats the toes first!)

Oh, here comes Old Man Eli with his chaise and four. That's his son and grandson behind him, and it looks like the Lovejoy family in the back. They must be on their way to deliver presents and sing carols in KandyKane Trailer Park. That Old Man Eli is our very own St. Nick, despite his rheumatism, dementia, and atheism. God bless you, Old Man Eli.

And it looks like Ma has just stepped out into the snow to feed the hens. Eat up, ladies! We ate our last turkey a month ago, so guess who's on the menu tomorrow?

Ooh, over there! You can only just see him, there, lurking behind the house. It's Hobo Joe! Ha ha, not THIS year, Hobo Joe! You'll have to find a different garage to keep warm in this Christmas.

So Merry Christmas from all of us, here is downtown South Poleville. May the next year be even better than last.

Last night, at midnight, I drove home on streets damp with rain. This morning, I pull open my front door and see this. Beautiful, isn't it? You can see the pattern of the door in the snow. I'm guessing it's about seven or eight inches, some of it probably snow drift as opposed to snowfall, but in any case, I don't think I'll be able to leave the house today.

I'm not complaining, just yet. Yesterday was the last day of classes. Going into finals week, I've finished most of my writing, a good deal of grading, and I think I could use a day in the apartment to relax and maybe clean the bathroom. I have a hankering for cider and a book to curl up with that is unrelated to schoolwork. I have a movie from Netflix waiting to be watched.

A week from now, however, I want the roads clear and the sky blue. I want to make it home for Christmas, for my birthday, and weather has a lot to do with whether or not that happens. So go ahead, skies: SNOW! Do your worst today, tomorrow! And then, take a break. Rest. Store your energies and wait until I'm safely away. I'd appreciate it, immensely.

October Burst

I was told that Vermillion doesn't have autumns. Summer to winter, overnight. That's what I was told.

But Autumn is inching into the room, a little shyly, a little afraid to make eye contact, but we are all noticing. We don't say anything, of course, even to each other, in case she overhears and gets embarrassed by the attention and leaves. We don't approach Autumn either; she's easily frightened off. But we are glad she accepted the invitation.

She has a way about her that's cool and soothing. Her mere presence changes the atmosphere in any room. She isn't here for more than two minutes before she begins to affect Summer, who is trying her darndest to ignore Autumn. Summer has been bragging loudly about herself for months. She one of those loud, flashy types that demands everyone's attention the moment she arrives. She's fun, don't get me wrong, but the kind of fun you can only take for so long before she starts getting under your skin. We keep hinting at her that it's time she move on, but it isn't until Autumn shows up that Summer takes any steps toward the door. She knows Autumn is prettier--all that fiery red hair, those subtle amber eyes, those adorable purple and dark-green scarves--and gets jealous easily. Then Summer throws her little tantrums and rains for a good week or more before stomping out the door.

This always embarrasses Autumn, but if we don't look directly at her, she'll stay for a while longer. She'll move her way quietly around the room, flashes of orange here, golden yellows there, streaks of burning red. When she passes right behind you, you get these whiffs of potpourri. She's like a bouquet of chrysanthemums. And when she walks right in front of you, you get these delightful little shivers running across your skin that make you want to pull on a jacket and build a fire in the hearth.

But like Frost says, nothing gold can stay. Winter is always late, but she never fails to show. Grumpy as always. And Autumn, who had a disagreement with Winter years ago (no one knows the full story), bows her head and before you can beg her to stay, she's out the door.

The Office

This, friends, is my new office at USD. Yup. Pretty bare. In many, many ways, it is a vast improvement from my office space at OU. For one, it's all mine. That's right. I'm not sharing and juggling schedules with two other TAs, with six of us crammed in the corner (dubbed the "Muses Alcove") of a room filled with cubicles. So yes, all mine. The office holds three other desks, but each is equipped with a computer, and no one has to share with someone else. Being a PhD student automatically comes with perks.

And that's the other thing: no having to wait for a computer to free up. This one's mine, too. Well, for my sole use, I mean. And that's not too shabby. Sure, the computer is, well, I think it is pretty old. But it runs fine and loads pages quickly enough. My desk boasts lots of drawers, and as I like storing things in drawers, this works out really well for me. You can't see it very well in this shot, but to my right is a closet (this building used to be a dormitory; you can see where there used to be a shower head in the ladies' bathroom) with a bookshelf. Currently, it's filled with the folders and old student papers hoarded by the last TAs to occupy this space, and I'm weeding through them. Over the next four years, I expect I'll fill that shelf.

And the air conditioner works great. I've had to bring a jacket from home just so I don't freeze during office hours.

The downside? Well, it's rather . . . quiet. Compared to my last office--which was always bustling with 20 other TAs going about their day, preparing to teach, meeting with students, watching youtube vids and complaining about this class or that--my office is, well, dead. I mean, it's great for actually getting work done. But my office hours don't coincide with the other PhDs I share that office with, so there's no one to talk to. There's nowhere to go where all the action is.

It's just the first week, I tell myself. Surely things will get hopping at the semester rolls along and need drives the others to campus. We'll see.

I'll take another picture of this office in four years. We'll see how things have changed.

Attempt No. 2 at Cooking Healthy Food

These are jalapeno poppers, baked, not fried. Because I haven't quite figured out my oven yet, they are a little overcooked. Fortunately, they still turned out to be quite delicious--though very, very hot, some bites. You should have seen me separating yolks from whites (enough to make anyone laugh out loud), but I think I've got a better handle on it now. And it was my first time using panko, which was fun. It made the poppers crispy and tasty.

It is, of course, intended to be an appetizer, but appetizers should be fairly quick to prepare, right? These took--baking time included--around an hour and a half, though I admit that I was working pretty slowly. And when you take into account a few oops-moments (e.g. separating out egg whites), it's no wonder I couldn't get them done sooner. In any case, it became my dinner and left my mouth on fire, as a good popper does.

How are these healthy, you ask? Well, using fat free or reduced fat everything sure helps, as well as the baking. The recipe claims that, when all is said and done, one serving is about 220 calories. I'm willing to bet it was a bit more.

This, my friends, is a ficus bonsai tree I bought to make my home a little more . . . happy. At least, it makes me happy when I look at it. I've set it atop Bookshelf No. 3, which totally changes the ambiance on that wall for the better.

Mom tells me that her mother used to name the plants in her house. That's a little silly, in my opinion. I mean, it's a tree. But then again, I also think that the practice of talking to one's plant is silly. According to some people, however, doing so may actually affect it's growth. I guess that makes sense, on some level. I mean, if plants have spirits, just like animals and people do, who's to say that they don't have spiritual needs, like good music and, erm, good conversation?

So maybe, in addition to blaring Queen, I'll let my little bonsai know how pretty it is, how my day went, my thoughts on human-plant relations, etc. I haven't named it yet; I just call it (lacking originality) "Bonsai." But I'm open to suggestions.