"Is this Earth?" he cried, for things had changed abruptly."Yes, this is Earth," said the one beside him, "nor are you out of it. In Zambia men are rolling down hills inside barrels as training for space flight. Israel and Egypt have defoliated each other's deserts. The Reader's Digest has bought a controlling i
under the ponderosas
Last update: January 13th, 2016 at 04:17 am
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Life in Bend, Oregon.
My daughter's gecko has escaped his cage. A gecko is not as destructive as our other escaped pets (a gerbil once spent a week holed up in our speakers) but he's more difficult to find. He's the same beige as our walls and carpet, and he's silent and still and nocturnal.To catch the gerbils we put out food. To ca
My sister and I wrote a newsletter one summer. It was the truly, truly wonderful summer before my junior year of college & her sophomore year; we lived in a rented house in Ithaca; we worked a little, but mostly we were free to do exactly as we pleased --- and writing a newsletter was one thing that pleased us.
A robin built a nest in the crook of our silver maple tree. I didn't know it until I heard her screeching and saw her dive-bomb a western scrub jay that had landed in the nest. I dashed over there and stomped my feet and screeched at him, too, and he flew off.Afterward the robin flew to a nearby fence, where she
My husband has been sick for awhile so I'm making him a restorative beef soup. I started it this morning on the theory that if it simmered all day, the meat would become soft and digestible and delicious and the broth full of vitamins. (I firmly believe in food as medicine.) But in the last little while the wind has kicked
After my 2nd child was born, I lost a lot of weight. I'm not exactly sure why. I think partly my daughter was premature; partly I was nursing exclusively*; and partly I had a toddler + infant and refused to accept help**, so I was always running around and never eating... I had a 4-month-old and wore a size 0. Anyway, t
A synonym of "repair" is resort.
After exiting the chairlift, snowboarders skate to an out-of-the-way space to sit in the snow and clip their back foot into its binding. Skiers have to wait for them.Skiers whose wives find it amusing to develop a portfolio of shots of the NWX snowmobile against a gray sky – those skiers must wait a little
They call it boot-packing. It means that one slings one's skis over one's shoulder – or holds a snowboard across one's back – and climbs the hill in boots, stomping firmly into the snow to create a foothold.The first person up the hill is blazing trail. Everyone following tries to step in the tracks he's mad
After a long dry spell we finally had several inches of new snow, so the entire town of Bend went into the mountains to play -- or near enough to the entire town as matters: at 8:15 yesterday morning, traffic was backed up to the Safeway on 14th Street. I've never seen it like that before. It took us over an hour to get to
The snow on the mountain is compacted
After ten consecutive weekends, snowboarding was feeling more like a job than a gift. I was dead tired of the whole thing: the early, busy mornings and the recalcitrant children and the cold and the pain and the – the have to on a weekend.So Sasha and I took a wee break this weekend.
My daughter slept on the floor of her brother's room the whole year that she was seven. She said that when she'd turned seven, she became afraid of shadows and darkness and needed her brother's presence; but when her eighth birthday arrived, she assured us, she wouldn't be afraid anymore. She could go back to her own room.
This is from last weekend, I thi
The evening before Christmas Eve some friends hosted a party at the Swampy Lakes ski hut. The hut is a small, three-sided log cabin with a dirt floor and, this year, four feet of snow on its roof. Snow fell so deep so early this year that our friends had to cut snow-steps down to the floor of the cabin, and people took tu
I have to work today but because I work from home and my children are now 11 and 8 1/2, I don't have to make provisions for them. They do their own thing. Every little while I assemble a snack for them and remind them to eat, eat like a good mother -- then run back upstairs to sit at my desk and think and type like a
Cribbed from last year.1. What did you do in 2012 that you’d never done before? I worked full-time for an entire year as a parent. (I haven't worked full-time for a whole year i
First heard on This American Life; full article was on NPR
Saturday afternoon my son and I walked from here to the top of Pilot Butte and back. It's six miles round-trip. It took us 3 1/2 hours — but that's because we stopped twice (once to buy food and once to buy books).Blake talked the whole way. The whole way. He isn't much of a talker generally so I consid
The book fits in the envelope, which (as you can see) is about one staple's width by two.
Living in rural Oregon, quite far both spatially and culturally from Washington, D.C., we tend to eye the federal government warily.Which is why I was endlessly amused by this sign at the federally-managed
Per my son.What did it sound like? Whooooooooosh!What did it feel like?Cold. The air was cold, but I wasn't cold.It felt like flying. I
Tandem paragliding with Steve Roti. Pine Mountain. Yesterday.
I love it. I love it, I love it, I love it.The children and I have watched nearly every one of these videos. La Munkya is my favorite. Blake likes Fire City, below. Sasha likes them all. Naturally both my kids want to sit in that yellow chair and tell Will & J
For years my husband and I have been inviting my parents to accompany us to the Cowboy Dinner Tree; but, what with one thing and another, we have never been able to go after all, so that finally my dad pronounced the Cowboy Dinner Tree mythical.It's not mythical. It's a real restaurant near Silver Lake. F
My husband's brothers and sisters descended on the Camp Sherman house over Labor Day, partly for one last party out there and partly to help my in-laws redistribute their stuff. I expected it to be difficult for me, emotionally, so I talked my dad into giving me an excuse to escape spending a few hours on S
My husband's parents sold their house in Camp Sherman. I planned to write a wry, amusing post about it but I'm too sad to do so. I'll miss that place – not the house, which is just, you know, a house – but the meadow and the creek and the bridge over the creek and the mint that lines it, and the aspens and the ponderosa