Christmas Seasony

Being a fairly new family, Elliott and I only have one activity that could truly be defined as "tradition" and that is Christmas Tree chopping.

The first year we went, I was pulled kicking screaming and pouting to the Wyoming border and then South in to the Utah mountains and on to Christmas Tree Grove where you can cut your own tree. Much to my chagrin, I had a really great time and now it is our family tradition. We do a little hunting for trees, I usually pick the one I feel sorry for (you know that book about the tree that is not pretty because it protected the rabbit, fed the hungry animals and so on?) Elliott does his manly chopping and then we gather around a fire for a nice lunch. Before we leave the forest with our festive booty, we decorate a tree with birdseed crusted pine cones and take pictures of what giving people we are.










(This is Adrian with mini Sydney putting pine cones on the tree)
I convinced Adrian to come with us this year and tagging along with her was her little papoose and husband. Good times in the winter wonderland.





Sadly, I think my conscience is getting the best of me and I don't think we will be chopping down a free-range tree next year. It makes me a little teary just thinking about it but I think it is best for the future of the world that I keep the trees where they were put by the almighty.

(Kimball and Sydney sharing the sled)

The whole group gathered around our decorated tree. I feel like we should be singing some kind of sitcom theme song in this photo.

Christmas List

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper or red plastic bowls with staples like my dad would do in his store and all the old ladies thought it was so charming.

2. Real tree or Artificial? Real, cut by our own hands and dragged kickin and screaming from the forest. Having written that, I think we will change that for next year. You know, saving the earth and all that.

3. When do you put up the tree? Funny, last year we dragged it in the night of the Christmas party and never got it decorated and the year before it never made it in the house. This year, it happened on December 7th. Happy Birthday, mom!

4. When do you take the tree down? When it becomes a fire hazard but after Outdoor Retailer

5. Do you like eggnog? Yes but it needs to be diluted with milk or whiskey...

6. Favorite gift received as a child? Tent & Rockstar Barbie Van.

7. Do you have a nativity scene? No. If I did I would want it to be Precious Moments so I could accidentally break it or Lladro because they are elegant and overpriced.

8. Hardest person to buy for? Freakin Adrian. Stop buying things, Adrian!

9. Easiest person to buy for? Me. I mean, Elliott.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Neither. Nothing to say. Who wants a picture of us with our dog?

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I don't have a recollection of one. The worst I have ever given is an Office chair to Elliott our first Christmas together. That was not good.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? Family Stone

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? I shop for Elliott all year and just stock pile it. For everyone else, usually around the 20th.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Why would I tell anyone that?

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Peanut brittle. Can't make it so I am at the mercy of others

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree ? Clear, against Elliott's will

17. Favorite Christmas song? Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Travel

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer's? Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, Rudolph and Olive

20. Angel on the tree top or a star? star

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Pajamas or some other sleepy thing on Christmas Eve, presents Christmas night (Adrian and I used to work on Christmas morning so we would wait until after the ski slopes closed to open the gifts. It is one of my favorite traditions)

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year? Angry people

23. Favorite ornament theme or color? Anything on my parent's tree. I always loved their tree. So many ornaments, So many stories. Oh, and Elliott's snowball. It makes him really happy.

24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? Rouladen

25. What do you want for Christmas this year? Less stuff. Unless it is a Wii, a toilet or a puppy

I like dogs

Happy Birthday Husman

Elliott was born 33 years ago in Pocatello, ID to Susan and John Hansen...
Thanks for raising such a good man. I hope I haven't undone too much of your work over the past 6 years.

This is why I think Elliot is fancy:

He knows how cool it is to go fly fishing in your pajamas with your dog, who wears a coat.

He is strong and can chop down trees to haul home to his wife, and look good doing it.

He is still good at playing even though he has to wear big boy pants (and sometimes a dress, but we don't talk about that off the river).

He doesn't like ice fishing.



He is good at everything. I mean it, everything. Sometimes I wish he wouldn't be so I don't look as bad but this is about him, not me.

Against his better judgment, he has fallen for Kimball. They are buddies and it makes me unbelievably happy that they have so much fun together.


He will eat anything but is great at placating his wife who is a picky eater. AND he will finish my food for me, a gift that is without measure.














Once he learns something, he never forgets it and can recall from his endless list of skills for any occasion that might arise.


He knows how to have a good time



He can fall asleep anywhere and if his best Buddy is there, he will even wake up in a good mood.

He is the best boat captain...ever! He loves his mom.

He is a hopeless romantic.

Those are just a few things that make him fancy.
Happy Birthday, my love.

Training is for sissies

A few weeks ago Adrian used brutal force to convince me to do a triathlon. We were supposed to be in Catalina for Adrian do to a triathlon she had been training for but the culmination of a strange and sad week of events left us in Orem. To make Adrian feel better about missing her event, I told her I would do a triathlon if she could find one close by, with absolutely no intention of following through on the offer. Conveniently there was one in Orem that weekend and even more convenient, we could register the morning of the race. Yippee.

This brings me to my personal evaluation of the word: try-a-thon.
Those of you who have been brave enough to take the plunge and participate in a public race event know the truth about what most of these races are. They tend have 3 kinds of participants:

A. People that train and take it seriously, trying to make a qualifying time for some other bigger, more serious event.

B. People who are doing it to prove something to themselves but are not really in it for the win

C. People who got dragged along by either A or B and have no shame.

I usually fall into category B but for this race I was a full blood C. No training or intention of actually being able to stand at the end of it, I was in it for thrill. .

It was bloody cold that morning as they herded us from line to line registering, getting our ankle sensors and taking off our layers to have our numbers and age written on our arms and legs in marker. You can almost talk your self into thinking you are an athlete while you are surrounded by all of these fit people walking about in their tight clothes and expensive shoes downing power bars and energy goo. For a brief moment, you are one of them. You are an athlete.

You get to set up your transition area. Carefully placing each piece of gear in an order that you hope will make sense in the heat of the moment. It is methodical and specific. And it all goes to hell (at least it did for me).

Everyone gathers at the starting line, stretching, bouncing trying to get their blood moving. The gun goes off and I watch everyone pass me. This is when I got really mad at Adrian. Every other race I had done I was not the slowest, there is always someone at the back as my pacer, the person not to get behind. Much to my dismay, everyone at this race was a little more serious about the event. I had never actually never swum the distance I was about to and although I have run plenty of 5k's, I certainly had not done so lately.

I finished the run with 2 girls who came up beside and said, "Never done one of these before either, huh?" Nice, my athletic cover had been blown. I do look as pathetic running as I thought I did. However, I did get my best 5k time ever.

The transition area was almost empty when I got there. I hopped on my bike (thanks again Ashley for the loan) and off I went. Did I mention that I love to ride? What great fun it is. That is until the hill of death. WTF? I had to have been some kind of sick joke. Adrian past me (I was on my 1st lap, she on her 2nd) and told me the hill was killer but there was time to recover.

Unfortunately I had a gear malfunction and had to climb the hill of death on foot, in my biking shoes. I really hated that part.

When I got to the break off for the 2nd lap I decided I had better call it quits. My feet were in bad shape and I couldn't walk up that hill again in my biking shoes. Elliott and Sydney were waiting for me at the transition are and Elliott suggested I just to the swim even though I didn't finish the bike. Isn't that cheating? Maybe a little but even without that lap I was far from ranking.

So, I strip down to my suit, cap and run up the grassy hill into the pool. It turns out swimming with 500 people in a pool is hard. You can't many fluid strokes in because you hit someone or get kicked so in the shallow end, many of us did a speed walk resembling the senior citizen water-aerobics class.

Adrian was at the end of the swim cheering me on. I had to qualify my success with news of skipping a lap on the bike but she still let me be her sister so it was ok.

I had a good time and plan to do the same race in April. Maybe if I am feeling like a sissy I will even train a little.

Com-Passion

I want to say a public "thank you" to everyone who commented on my last post. I love that the people in my life are passionate and diverse. I love that you have felt welcome and safe enough in this forum to share your views and hope that you will continue to do so. Regardless of whether I agree with them or not.

I have removed the post not because I regret having written or shared it but because I have said my peace. I want to be sure that all the people who honor (or humor) me by visiting my life through this forum feel welcome but this particular subject matter is still a very raw and emotions are running high (mine included) and as self appointed boss of my KT's cyber world I am stepping in.

Please, please, keep talking about this and forgive me for removing my blog as the forum for doing so.

A wise man once said, "This will end after many dinner table conversations between loved ones, and sincere attempts to understand each others, attempts to reassure people that they don't need to fear all they've been told to fear. It's going to take people talking about it...A few people talk reasonably to a few of their friends, and slowly things change."

Compassion, compassion, compassion

My Private Pomegranate

I love pomegranates. I love the meticulous deconstruction and sweet reward of each morsel. I love pealing away the soft inner meat that protects the seed until I can remove it from its nest. The crimson stain on my fingers is a reminder of the complex assembly of this elaborate and mystical fruit.

I prefer privacy while enjoying my pomegranate allowing me to channel the fruit hungry brute inside. There I am, hunched over close to the fruit, fastidiously searching for every last bit of sustenance from within the rosy shell as the deep red juices drip down my arms and circle my mouth. Delicious. I can't wait for orange season.

Good people doing great things

Elliott and I are well taken care of. We have become those friends (and family) who always have to be somewhere else. There is no time to make time for taking time to just be and be with our people. Somehow through this neglect of our friends and family they still come through when we need them.

In early October I posted that our ceiling fell in. As if a call to arms, our friends came to rescue us from ourselves. During a Tuesday night debate I offered beer and a big screen TV in exchange for furniture moving and didn't really except anyone to show. After all, we can never make time for such activities. Alas, they came in droves. Thank you friends.

A few days later we had to get the drywall on the ceiling so the plaster guy could come and do his magic. Some timid favor asking around work, an invite to feed anyone who could help and once again our support army came to our rescue. Natalka and I put on our headlamps and emptied the garden of all the produce before the 1st frost (from which Natalka just whipped up a batch of salsa) while the boys began to tear away at the ceiling.
I didn't have high expectations, I just wanted the dust of a century of living sealed in its overhead crypt from whence it came. Quality was of no concern to this dust weary wife. I should have known better of Elliott and his manly group of men who decided all the plaster had to come down and they would need to drywall the entire ceiling, not the 8' I had signed these helpers up for.

Away they went, chipping at the overhead plaster. Occasionally they would emerge from the cloud of dust for fresh air, looking like coal miners and showing signs of the black lung. As the night went on, people continued to flow through the door and when the ceiling was finished at 2am (that is my recollection of the time), we had an amazing gathering of random people. That is my favorite kind.
Don't tell Elliott or my dad but for a brief moment I saw a little bit of the old summer Riggs gatherings as I stood in my own kitchen enjoying the company of good people who came to do a great thing.

I don't really know how to thank all of the peeps that cut their fingers, damaged their lungs, harvested produce, kept me company and relieved mountains of stress. I suppose it is my turn to rise to the occasion and stop being the person who has somewhere else to be.

Thank you, friends.

My Spirit Has Been Summoned

I voted and I voted for Obama. I feel better about our county's future this morning and although it is uncertain, I trust the hands that will guide our journey. I would not describe myself as a follower or someone stirred by strangers but last night listening to a great speech by McCain as he graciously conceded it moved me to fall in line. Whether it is my projection or happy delusion (the latter being more likely), it almost felt like McCain knew the right man had been chosen and he was relieved to be released. This isn't his first rodeo, he is a good man and he gets it. Based on what I know of McCain's history, he will be an asset to our new administration because he appears to have a deep and well-founded respect for the process and subsequent result. I just hope i'm right.

All that being said, I was moved by the election experience yesterday. When was the last time the people of this country rallied to make something so drastic happen? Even if you don't agree with the results, you must admit it is inspiring to see people so compelled to participate.

I would like to give Utah a big pat on the back for the open minded voting. Yes, they colored us red on the news at 8:01pm but the percentages did not represent some arbitrary party line voting like many expected. We re-elected a good Governor (yes, I voted for a Republican) with 77% of the vote but McCain only got 62%. That means there are some people out there who are not as stubborn as I thought.

Those statistics make me excited about our future. There is anticipation in the air and when our new President tells me to jump, I will not do so blindly but if I do, it will certainly be with a much more willing and supportive attitude than ever before. He has summoned my patriotic spirit and I am eager to do my part. The acceptance speech, turned religious revival, had a tangible and contagious excitement and being capable of stirring that in disheartened people is what will make Obama a great leader.

This victory alone is not the change we seek. It is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were.

"It can't happen without you, without a new spirit of service, a new spirit of sacrifice.

"So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism, of responsibility, where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves but each other."

Get Edumicated

I am an NPR Junkie and even though I don't drive a Subaru station wagon (I like to affectionately think of us as Crunchy Yuppies) I do feel a part of the liberal granola crowd and thereby compelled to share my new found NPR knowledge. Since I don't have enough space on my bumper or rocket box to advertise my thoughts on the current financial crisis, I have come to this forum to do so.

I understand that if you don't live in Sugar House you might be a bit resistant to the suggestion that follows but I beg of you, get edumicated.

On This American Life yesterday I heard the most comprehensive explanation of what is happening with the financial crisis and why. I understand that my strong belief that Ira Glass speaks the ultimate truth may discount my recommendation a little, but I ask that you reach out to your local liberal media and give this a listen.

Here is the link. http://www.thislife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?episode=355

What they have to say is important and you will walk away with valuable knowledge. This is not an opinion piece, think of it as National Geographic for the radio. Just jammed packed with knowledge and nerdy charm.

Once that piece of homework is done, let me know what you think. Come here to bare your testimony of Ira.

And then...

We went to the Fair. Our State Fair is not a great State Fair but I still feel an overwhelming obligation to go. Since Heather couldn't enter her award worthy zucchini and I didn't get to see the world's largest cow, I thought it might be a disappointing evening. Nonetheless, the greasy food, Elliott winning a dragon playing whack-a-mole, funny company, Adrian setting Sydney down in the straw next to a baby cow and Dad in his Jazzy scooter made for some good times.

















I turned 31.
Obviously Sydney thinks the whole birthday party thing is a little scary. He has NO idea.













Good times with the argyle/plaid theme and beer pong @ Derek's house.

Thanks old friends (sisters included in that) for putting this little event together for me. I know I have a bad attitude about birthday celebrations but every time I attend my own I end up having a riotous time. If I could just keep that memory on file for next time so I don't have to be so difficult. Those who love me continue to press through my drama every year to deliver a celebration that not even I can complain about.



Elliott informed me on the way out the door in this lovely outfit that the point was not to look ridiculous, just to wear plaid or argyle. Oh, how wrong he was.


Have I mentioned that there are few things in the world I love as much as Red Velvet cake? Emily did her culinary witchcraft and baked up this tower of goodness. YUM!
Not that the Costco vegetable tray wasn't good... it just didn't have the finesse of this velvety deliciousness.

Where to start?

Since I last blogged:















I took a little business trip to San Diego with Emily. We spent a minute on the beach, a minute pool side and too much time walking around a convention center where they were having a space convention we couldn't go to. There is no justice.




























We had a little "end of summer (for the love)", "goodbye to Terry" party for work at Jordonelle. A little wake boarding, a little corn holing, a little drinking and a lot of fun.
I must say, I am good at getting up on the wake board. What I am not good at is falling. I usually get dragged around by the boat for a while get bored and let go. I was a little off my game and missed the letting go part and had the fall of a lifetime. When you come up for air and wonder why you are in the water, it is not a good sign. Good thing I have nine months to recover and get full range of motion back in my neck.

We had a little flood. We thought we had things under control when we cut a large hole in the new sub-floor of laundry room and sucked all of the insulation and water out. Little did we know that 2 days later (while Elliott was out of town) I would wake up to the plaster ceiling falling. Amused by the impossibility that this process could really be taking this turn I closed the door and left for school without dealing with it.

I write this calmly now but it is only because I find myself resigned to my re-modeling fate. I have been beaten down by this 104 yr old house and all of its bloody charm.

More installments to come under the title: mishaps of the re-modeling mavericks.

Recallibrating

I have been racking up the frequent flier miles traveling for work that seems important at the time but in retrospect, I worry about my sanity.
First, Boston.
This is me at Gillette stadium somewhere between Boston and Providence. I guess it is the only safe place for hard core football fans to gather in mass numbers. This place is its own little city. Crazy.
I arrived on a red eye and hopped in my rental car with my new buddy, Garmin. After not sleeping, my traffic decision making could not be trusted so I took the weak mans way out and rented a GPS. I did, after all, have urgent business at the stadium to attend to. Something that I had not thought of when choosing to have Garmin as an expensive dashboard passanger was that many of Boston's freeways are underground. Turns out the sattellite doesn't work so well in the bowels of the city. After numerous wrong exits, u turns and a constant electronic voice chanting, "recallibrating, recallibrating..." I pulled over and had a talk with myself.

"Katie, you have been blessed with a reasonable sense of direction. Why are you relying on this electronic to tell you how to navigate through rush hour traffic on the smallest streets of our nation? Get your head on straight and use your internal compass to get yourself out of this spaghetti bowl of underground interchanges. NOW!"

I love it when my internal Yoda speaks sense to me. I turned off the confused and distracting government tracking device and paid attention to where I was going for about 5 minutes and found my out. Once I was out of the tunnels I had the Garmin join me again. I was lonely and the voice kept me company.
I also learned that you can use both your own brain and the brain that comes in the little box on the dash board. They are not mutually exclusive. Once we learned to travel in harmony, Garmin and I became fast friends.

Here is a photo of the important business I was in such a hurry to get to.

What a stupid day this was.

I did leave the football compound and head downtown for a dinner in the harbor and a little walk around. Then back to the airport. Flying across the counrty for less than 24 hours of time on the ground is not worth it.
AND let you warn you my traeveling friends, DO NOT, i repeat do not fly US Airways. They held me hostage (with bitchy staff, $2 water and diet coke) for 6.5 hours flying from Boston to Phoenix. I didn't even know you could fly that long and still be in the lower 48. Well you can and it makes me cranky.

So I close on a happier note: Me in Boston Harbor.

So taking pictures of yourself in the dark doesn't work so well.

Fall Harvest

Please come and claim tomatoes from our garden. Too many to eat, must have help!

Fresh Salmon

It is a bad sign when you have to read your own posts to find out when the last time you blogged was? I guess it has been a while. AND as usual, I have a lot to say.
Let's start with our river trip on the Main Salmon:
We took a week and did a beautiful, last trip of the season, new river, great adventure, adventure.

Fewer people than usual, which makes for a less dynamic social situation which has its benefits and drawbacks. The river was beautiful (as I am an advocate for clean water, not like the flowing mud of Southern Utah) and new, which means a little adventure around every corner. I must admit though, it was a little flat. I wasn't driving the boat most of the time so I can't say it wasn't challenging enough but I will just put it in these terms: It didn't feed the Hansen Demon. If you know what I mean.

Trent (and the rest of us out of view) rigging in the dark. Long drive. Really long drive.

Elliott is happy here.
The Otto Barge.
Buddy, the constant and loyal companion who despite his Poison Ivy, raw feet and lack of sleep got on the boat every morning, ready to conquer the river. That's my buds.

He was soooo tired. All he wanted to do was lay in the willows on the beach. Nothing else was good enough, except the lap and arms of a lady. He loves the ladies.
It was cold, windy and wet for two of the days on the water. I have a sick love for this kind of weather it makes me feel like I am surviving something, especially since I go my "Mystery Shirt". I feel a little bit like a super hero and it makes me row a lot faster.

Kimball was not happy. This was the first time I thought that those ridiculous dog rain jackets might be a good idea.







There were also a few days that were unbelievably hot. I love that about the unpredictable river weather. Maybe I should become a meteorologist.

Sometimes if you are a dog and you are black, you need a little sun bonnet.


They call the Salmon, The River of No Return . There is something different, peaceful and welcoming that I haven't felt on any other river his season and I was literally depressed to come home. A little sick to my stomach.

I read a numerous stories in our guide book about people who suffered great tragedy and still felt compelled to return to this canyon. The connection to this particular stretch of wilderness is tangible. I can't wait to go back.