Catch-up

Starting a new job has taken a toll on the frequency that we've been able to update this blog! Amazing how working all day 1) reduces the amount of time you have to write and 2) limits the number of blog-able experiences you have on any given day. That is, unless you plan on blogging about your job.

Let me say a few brief things about my job to quench the curiosity I know at least a few of you have expressed:

It's great. The people are supremely friendly. In fact, it's the friendliest new job I've ever had.  People stop by and ask how things are going, and go out of their way to swing by my cubicle just to say "hi"--let me add that I've known most of these folks for a week and a half.

One harmless little anecdote: the ratio of men to women in this workplace is way different than what I was accustomed to at Portland State. I'd say that it's the exact opposite, in fact. I've gone from an office that was predominantly women, to one that's probably 90-95% men. 

The other day one of my coworkers stopped by my desk and asked that I spread the word that they were having birthday cake in another part of the office. So, I walked around the cubicles, letting people know that there was birthday cake to be had. I've found that working with women, it's almost like pulling teeth to get them to come for cake. And when they do, they only want "just a small piece." In my current office, the word spread like wildfire. "CAKE?! WHAT KIND OF CAKE? IS IT CARROT CAKE? WHERE'S THE CAKE!?" Heads sprung up like whack-a-mole's from all the cubicles at the mention of it. When I walked down to get my piece, I found myself in line behind a whole mess of guys all waiting for their cake. AWESOME. This is my kind of workplace. 

Other interesting things--for the first time in 59 days, we had a big rainstorm move through Boise this weekend. It started on Friday night as some thunderstorms broke over the city. Big flashes of lightning and rolling rumbles of thunder. It started pouring during the night, and rained most of the day on Saturday. For those of you who find weather as interesting as I do, imagine this: Friday, there was a record high of 94 degrees; today, Sunday, it didn't even break 70. I think we got up to 67 or so. Throughout the week we'd planned a camping trip up to the McCall area for this weekend, but as Friday night rolled around, and we faced the reality of packing our gear and going grocery shopping, we decided to abandon those plans. When we awoke on Saturday morning to the sound of rain pouring down the steps in the courtyard behind our bedroom, we were so thankful that we'd elected to stay home.

Instead, we just enjoyed the city this weekend. It's amazing how quiet it is here in town on a Sunday. The downtown area is a ghost-town. The stores and boutiques are closed, and the restaurants are dead. We got coffee and walked around looking through the windows of places we'd like to return to eventually. The Co-op in town was also having a "Fall Harvest Festival" with farmer's market-style vendors all offering samples, a wine tasting, and a live band. We wandered through that for a while and tried some awesome pickles, salsa, mustard, and hot sauces.

Finally, this weekend we ate out at a great restaurant downtown. Any Boise-ites reading along, take note: A Taste of Memphis down on Idaho St (next door to Old Chicago, and just below the Rose Room), is a great barbecue joint with the world's friendliest owner and the BEST hush puppies EVER. They seem to be getting hit hard by the slow economy: the owner said she didn't know how much longer she'd be able to stay open. It's really sad--especially when the sub-par chain restaurant Old Chicago was jumping all night next door. Charlie has the Friday Night Special--homemade Gumbo with sausage and chicken--and hush puppies on the side, and I had the barbecued pork ribs with some stellar collard greens and potato salad for sides. I also ordered some sweet tea so sugary it made my teeth hurt. I have to say, though, as amazing as my ribs were, and as tasty as the greens were (with chunks of ham cooked throughout!), the hushpuppies really stole the show. I've never been a huge hushpuppy fan--normally they seem somewhat boring: deep fried cornbread? These were awesome--crispy, hot, bite-sized, and full of flavor and spices. WOW. Anyhow, if you're in the area, I highly recommend the restaurant and especially the hush puppies. The owner and her family are ridiculously nice as well. Unfortunately, though, if you're a vegetarian, the menu might be a little on the spare side--but, with barbecue and southern food, that's no real shocker, I suppose.

Update

Here's a picture of what remains of the excitement last night. Turns out it was two buildings back from ours. There was a big yellow building I didn't even know about between us and the fire.

Anyhow. Yeesh! This looks like a storage shed or something that was attached to the back of some law offices. Not much of a storage shed any longer! What we saw last night, were the firefighters walking on the roof of the brick building. I think, for the owners, it was fortunate that it was a brick building and not a wood one. Scary.

Not exactly what you want to hear at 3 am.

The light flicks on in the courtyard area behind our apartment, shining through our blinds and onto the ceiling.

People are talking, though, through the window it's hard to hear what they're saying beyond murmured mumbles.

A chorus of sirens whines through the night, but that's not unusual since we live relatively close to a hospital.

Somehow Charlie and I both wake up right about the time that we hear the neighbor out in the courtyard say, in a flat, alarm-less voice, "Fire."

We look at one another, and I don't remember who it was that asked, "Should we go see what's going on?" but, we both throw sweatshirts on and walk out in our pjs.

The back courtyard is full of red flashing lights, and we can see them strobing in through our kitchen window.

We look out the front windows, and there are three or four big fire trucks parked in the street directly in front of our apartment building.

Putting flip-flops on, we go outside to try and see what's happening. Our neighbor from upstairs is on the porch next to ours, smoking a cigarette. He's in his pj's too. We talk for a minute: no, it's not our building that's on fire. He says that he thought about starting to pitch his worldly belongings from the window for a moment, though.

Idiotically, I say something to the tune of, "Wow, I think I can smell smoke or something," forgetting, of course that he's standing there smoking. Obviously, it's 3 am, and even though I feel wide-awake, my brain isn't firing on all cylinders yet. I try to cover it up by saying something to the effect of, "I thought I smelled something when I woke up, too."

Charlie and I decide to see if we can see better what's going on, and head part way around the block in one direction and then the other. We pause by the alley long enough to watch the fire fighters put a ladder up against a building just to the rear of ours. They climb onto the roof and stomp around.

There's water from their hoses all over the ground.

It's all kind of anonymous and dream-like. Some guy (I think he lives in our building, but I could be wrong, it was late, but he looked vaguely familiar), stops and asks if we're checking out the excitement in the neighborhood. We nod and mutter something inane and inarticulate, transfixed by the alien men in full-body equipment and the red blinking lights.

Then, assured that everything is under control, and that our building isn't going to burn down around our ears, we try to go back to bed and back to sleep. I distinctly remember Charlie's watch beeping at 4 am, however, and I think it was light out before I really, really fell back into any sort of a restful sleep.



In other surreal-ness, when I got up this morning, there was a lone bagpiper playing somewhere outside. I think he was practicing. It went on, quite literally, for TWO HOURS. Hello alternate reality Boise universe.

Summer vacation.

It's funny how in the course of a day, sitting around until noon in your pajamas can go from being something pathetic that you try not to broadcast ("Me? Noooo, I blow-dried my hair this morning, and I am DEFINITELY wearing pants right now. In case you were wondering, I was also DEFINITELY out of bed before 10 am, too.") to something decadent that you luxuriate in and maybe even taunt your close friends with a little ("Mmm... this coffee sure is good. It's even better IN PAJAMAS! Too bad I had sit on the couch all morning with the internet and a good book... What? You had to work?"). It's amazing the power that words, terms, and states of being can have on how we (and others) view our actions. When you're unemployed, lounging around in pajamas seems a little pathetic and sloppy; when you're simply waiting for employment to begin it feels like VACATION! And there is nothing wrong with pajamas until noon on vacation!

Wait, what's that? Employed? Yes, dear friends and family, Ariel's sweet summer vacation of 2008 has officially ended: yesterday I received a job offer I couldn't refuse, and this morning I accepted it. I start work on Wednesday the 10th.

It has been a PROCESS. In all, I've had NINE interviews this go-round, three of which were for the job I've just accepted, and most of which took place in the last week and a half. Overall, I sent out 33 applications (a large chunk of those I'm including sprung forth from two standard state position listings--so, I have to say, it sounds impressive, but really, it wasn't quite as much work as it seems), I was rejected from 17 opportunities, and I turned down one offer because the management and I weren't a good fit.

I had some doozies as far as interviews went, too (I can write about these because they were either for jobs for which I was turned down, or for positions that I ended up turning down myself).* I interviewed with someone who may well have been drunk (perhaps it was just said individual's face and way of throwing back their head when they laughed, but wowza... that would have been tricky to handle in a supervisor!), I had an exceptionally combative, aggressive interviewer whose immediate purpose, it seemed, was to try and catch me in a contradiction and to fluster me out of my poised interviewing comfort zone, I had a four-hour interview that didn't even result in a thanks-but-no-thanks phone call (or even a real hand-signed signature on a piece of paper), I was turned down for a job IN an interview for being too skilled and qualified for the position, and I had a couple big let downs for awesome interviews I thought I'd nailed.

Wow. I'm glad it's over.

The timing feels right, too. As the days start to shorten, the temperatures mellow, and the nights and mornings grow chilly, it feels like time to give up on summer vacation and turn my mind toward "real life" again. I think that a job is a good step in that direction.

I'll be entering into an industry that I know virtually nothing about (don't worry, MY job is within my knowledge/comfort zone, just not the company's overall industry), and working for a much larger immediate office than I've been involved with before. But, having met the people, and having had the opportunity to get to know the company a little, I think it's a good fit and that it will be a good challenge for me. I look forward to starting.

I also look forward to not worrying about things like eating out on occasion or picking up a new pair of shoes. Yes, Otto, I can afford to buy shoes AND cat food again! You don't have to eat Hobo spiders any longer!

* * *

Aaaaand now on TV there are adorable elementary school children in hard hats with shovels breaking ground on a new elementary school. The cuteness has made me lose my train of thought, so... consider this the most recent update!

xoxo

Ariel

*In the interest of keeping my new job, and keeping positive relations with all potential co-workers and clients, I'm making the decision right now not to blog about work in any sort of a specific or derogatory way. If something exciting and big happens, expect to hear about it, otherwise just assume all is peachy. :)

And a good Labor Day to you, too!

Our apartment looks like a campsite exploded in it.

In our library room, you'll find Charlie's tent, our two plastic bins of camping gear, a pile of stinky laundry, and various other bits and pieces that suggest we might have spent a weekend in the woods. Our kitchen plays host to half-eaten bags of trail mix, a sink heaping with camping dishes, and the remains of a lunch I'm trying to scarf down before attending to it all.

So, if you guessed that we spent Labor Day hiking and camping our little hearts out, you hit the nail on the head.

In somewhat of an 11th hour decision, Charlie and I selected the Eagle Cap Wilderness area as our Labor Day destination. The forecast called for "abundant sun" on Saturday, clouds on Sunday, and chilly "fall-like" temperatures for Sunday night. So we packed sweaters, gloves, and a bit of wool and polar fleece, and hit the road early Saturday morning. When it comes to getting out of the house early in the morning, Charlie and I are not yet experts. We'd determined that our departure time needed to fall between 6:30 and 7:00 am, since we had a 5 hour drive to the trailhead in Eastern Oregon (yuck). We left close to 7:30--I was feeling a little disappointed with our inability to get out the door, until I realized that just by the sheer magic of driving west, we'd gain an hour as we crossed from Mountain to Pacific time zones.

Saturday we had a gorgeous day of hiking full of rivers and peaks, blurred in my memory by a sweaty forehead and a trail that just never quit with the uphill climbing. Charlie, on the other hand was a robot when it came to reaching our destination. I don't think I ever saw a drop of sweat on his brow. When I'd arrive at a top of a tough patch, huffing and puffing like a locomotive, and trying to keep sweaty strands of hair out of my face he'd be standing there, gazing out over the view, cool as a cucumber, ready to move on. In all, we only did 6.3 miles, and about 1800 ft of elevation gain. I think I need to get in better condition before we plan any week-long loop hikes.

Our first night at the campground was nice. The lake was beautiful, but packed full of people. One of the funnier moments of the trip occurred just after we'd chosen our campsite. The clouds had blown in and the wind had picked up, and, with Charlie vouching that the coast was clear, I quick stripped down to my skivvies, and was one leg into a warmer pair of pants when a woman from the next campsite over comes bounding over the ridge "Halloooo"-ing with a smile. I sat down quick on a crumbly log (I probably have slivers in my butt that I don't even know about), and tossed my pants over my lap. It turns out she and her husband were on a eight-day backpacking trip with their two daughters and two dogs and she'd forgotten to bring along soap. They were planning on fishing, and that seemed foolish and pretty grimy without anything to wash-up with. First of all, let me point out that their daughters were probably 6 and 10. It took me a few minutes to get past the fact that they were planning a trip of that caliber with kids that young. Wow. I almost forgot that I didn't have any pants on. After asking for just a moment so that I could get dressed, we were able to get them a baggie of campsoap and send her on her way.

We didn't get rid of them entirely, though, as the two girls spent the evening and most of the next day galloping around the lake side, sneaking behind trees, and making a game out of spying on the neighbors (us). We were continually entertained by little blond heads dashing about and giggling, and snuffly dogs checking out our tent in the morning.

Our first night on the lake was nice. We hiked a little up the hill behind our site and found a campfire ring (we were too close to the lake in our site for one), and had a nice crackly little fire. It was a chilly night, so it was much appreciated. Saturday night, both Charlie and I woke up at some point to the sound of ice pellets hitting and rolling off the tent. Chilly indeed!



Our original plan had been to spend one night at Minam Lake (pictured above), and then climb a ridge and camp our second night at Mirror Lake. But, the combination of soft feet and new-ish boots left me with quarter-sized blisters on both my heels. By the time we reached the lake, they were looking awful, but hadn't burst yet (hooray for moleskin and creative band-aid-ing). That, and hearing from a few hikers that Mirror Lake was thronged with people, I asked Charlie if perhaps we could consider staying put at Minam Lake, and taking a day hike around the area on Sunday instead. He was fine with that idea, so we packed up and moved to a new campsite on the other side of the lake and set out in search of another little lake in the area: Blue Lake.

According to our guidebook, Blue Lake was only .9 miles from where we were and we'd gain about 400 ft in elevation getting there. We saw a signpost in a cairn of rocks pointing the way, but it didn't really seem to indicate much of a trail. Charlie thought that we should take the thinner trail, but I talked him into taking the more well-trod one, with the thought that maybe the sign had gotten spun around a little.
Of course, that wasn't the case. We didn't end up making it out to Blue Lake, but we did find ourselves in the Minam River Valley. It was beautiful, with sweeping green valley walls, and granite peaks looming overhead. There was also an icy wind blowing, which made us decide to turn around after a short lunch stop.



When we arrived back at our campsite, the wind was still blowing, and we unfortunately had to spend an absolutely outrageous amount of time pumping water (my filter needs to be replaced, and it started giving up the "volume" ghost on this trip--water was still clean, it just came out veeerrrrryyyyy slowly). By the time we'd finished with that (squatting unceremoniously on a rock in the lake with cold water pouring over my hands doing the same repetitive motion again and again, all with that darn cold wind blowing), I was kind of stiff and cranky. I decided to go take a nap in the tent and try to warm up. Charlie was kind enough to get a picture.



He was also kind enough to find a bunch of wood and get a crackling fire going. It took great effort, but I dragged myself out of the tent and joined him. And I was glad I did. We spent the rest of that evening by the fire, until about 8:30 (it was dark), it began SNOWING. It was small, pellety snow--it almost looked like it should have been in a snow globe. We washed dishes at super-speed and threw our things together, and threw ourselves into the tent. It was somewhat hilarious, but also extremely cozy to fall asleep with the sound of snow on the tent roof and walls.

We woke up to 1/2" coating everything, and a layer of icy water frozen on the rainfly of the tent.



Monday was a quick day. We ate breakfast in the chilly air (somehow redeemed a little by the dusting of snow--I told Charlie that I think it was probably just as cold as the day prior, but somehow my brain understood the temperature better because I could see the snow), and enjoyed an amazing, still morning on the lake before we packed up and hit the trail.



It was a quick hike out, and a long drive home, but we had an amazing time. The only thing that could have made it better would have been to share it with family and friends. So, clear your calendars--we're hoping to get back to this part of Oregon next summer, and you're cordially invited. Hearing large groups of campers laughing across the lake on Sunday night, made us wish we had a few more faces in our camping party. So, who's on board? :)

Oh, and finally, one parting shot--we're still adjusting to a few things about not living in Portland, and about living in a more "outdoorsy" place. Spotted on the highway headed home between Baker City and Boise. Idaho plates, but I think he bagged half of Oregon!

Offending the potato sensibilities of Idaho

After I made the last bland post about "what we did last weekend" I remembered a story that I was meaning to relate to you but had forgotten about. So you get the BONUS FEATURE of two posts in one day.

So, as I mentioned below, one of the activities on our radar this weekend was celebrating the birthday of a close friend of mine. I wanted to find her the perfect birthday present, and, of course, she's kind of a notoriously hard person to shop for. Eventually I came up with something that I was pleased with, but then wanted to top the gift off with a little humor. And, as we now live in Idaho, I decided that a potato-theme was absolutely in order. I'd wanted to buy her a beautiful russet, tie a red ribbon around it and include it in her package, but as Friday afternoon ticked on, I ran out of time to swing by the grocery store to pick one up.

All we had at home was a bag of little red potatoes.

Creativity kicked into high gear, and I found a length of ribbon, a big needle, and strung three of the red potatoes onto the ribbon for, voila! a quick, home-made potato necklace. I stuffed it into the bag with her other gift (glassware, so I'd stashed it in my carry-on for safe travels).

Charlie and I arrived at the airport in perfect time. I took off anything metal, and we went through the security line. I have to say, for such a small airport, they sure were surly on Friday. The TSA women snapped at both of us, chastised us for heading in the wrong direction after the metal detector, and snapped at us for handing them more papers than just our boarding passes. It just seemed an extension of this hospitality when they stopped the conveyor belt to take a closer look at my bag.

There was much nodding and consulting behind the x-ray machine, and then finally one of the uniformed women stepped out, asked, "Is this your bag?" and told me she needed to take a look inside. She scooped up my bin, and led me down to the examination table. Kindly enough, once we reached the table she allowed me to put my shoes on before she started going through things. GEE, THANKS.

Her first question, "Do you have anything sharp in your bag?"

I replied that it was my work bag, and that while I didn't think I did, it was possible that there might be something I'd forgotten? (The whole time I was thinking of my old boss who'd forgotten that she had a giant steak knife in her work bag and then tried to go through airport security--didn't go over so well, but we had a good laugh over it.)

She opened up my bag and went immediately for Celeste's present. I didn't make a peep. First thing she gets to, of course, is the potato necklace. Three red potatoes strung onto a white satiny ribbon. She stops. Looks at me. Looks at the potatoes. Looks at me again. And, with no smile, question, or even hint of amusement, shakes her head disgustedly (with one skeptical eyebrow arched), and asks again, "Do you have anything sharp in there?" This time, her tone was annoyed.

I shook my head.

"Just go ahead."

"Thank you!"

Anyhow, I guess you can just call me "the Potato Bomber" from here on out.

I considered telling her it was a low-fat version of a candy necklace. Something for me to snack on during the plane ride if I got hungry.

Probably wouldn't have thought that was funny, either, though.

Misc. thoughts on various things.

So far so good. We've been on an almost-weekly roll with this blog. All things considered, that's not too bad. Of course, I'd like to be even better than that about updating, but, I suppose there has to be time to do those things that we're telling you about, right?

Rest assured that things continue to plug along in Spudward land. Charlie's job is picking up steam as we approach his busiest time of year (start of school, homecoming, etc), and he's working his tookus off. Lots of early mornings, busy evenings, and hectic days. It really makes me appreciate not having a 40-minute commute to see one another--when his job in Forest Grove was in a similarly busy phase, the amount of time we were able to spend together plummeted.

I am an interviewing machine as of late: one interview last week, and three more this week. Things seem to finally be starting to stick (cross your fingers for that). To date, I've completed applications for 30 jobs, have had interviews scheduled for 6 of those jobs, and have been rejected for approximately 14 (that I've officially heard back from... a few others I think I can unofficially assume I've been rejected for based on the length of time elapsed since I've applied). Wow. Of course, a few of those applications were long shots--"Wouldn't it be awesome if..." sort of things. Sooner or later the right thing will come along. Keep thinking job-y thoughts for me!

Despite all this business, Charlie and I have been traveling machines, too. Last weekend we made it back to Oregon to celebrate and wedding and a birthday. It was such a ridiculously short trip... we both wished that we could spend another day (or ten) there with friends and family. The wedding was at beautiful Skamania Lodge, and it was great to be able to connect with the whole Johansson clan on family and friends.

Of course, for those of you who know Charlie and I (which I hope most of those reading do!), you know that the trip wouldn't be complete without something a little strange and quirky. And boy do we have it for you this time!

Our good friend Devon drove us out to the wedding on Saturday morning, and, trying to squeeze in a little more time together, we decided to find a park and hang out by the Columbia River for a while (we'd talked about day hiking, but then no one did any research, and we decided to just walk around instead). Passing the turn for Skamania, we came across Home Valley Park... a little local park with a windsurfing beach that happened to be hosting a festival that weekend: The Bigfoot Bash and Bounty.

As you know, Charlie and I have a funny fascination with all things Bigfoot (we even chose a hike just because it featured a Sasquatch trap!), so we definitely had to check this one out. The Bigfoot Bounty and Bash turned out to be quite the serious affair. It featured lectures, a concert stage, a life-sized bigfoot cut-out, a person in a bigfoot costume, face painting, a beer garden, and a fun run! Yet, despite all of that, what it lacked was any sense of humor whatsoever.

We sat down to listen to a woman speak about her experience meeting bigfoot while hiking, and I still can't believe how solemn and sincere it was. Not an ounce of humor. She deeply, thoroughly believed that bigfoot was a kind, gentle creature--as evidenced by the restraint he exercised toward loggers destroying his forests! We were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt on that, but when she said that she "sincerely believed that bigfoot was an interdimensional species" we decided it was time to leave before our snorts and chortles offended anyone. Maybe he is. Maybe we're just not ready to believe.

Here are a few pictures from the event:

Devon and Charlie get up close and personal with the hairy man of the woods:




It's real, folks, I promise!



Despite all the infrastructure for fun, not much going on here. And yes, that is a giant painted bigfoot next to the tree.




Anyhow, Charlie has Labor Day off, so we're toying with the idea of taking a camping road trip down to Salt Lake City and back for the weekend. We haven't really set up much in the way of "plans" yet, so any ideas or suggestions would be awesome. I'll let you know how it pans out.

Not even a potato product of Idaho.

So I just looked at a bag of red potatoes I bought at the grocery store.

Guess where they're from.

Yeah, I would have guessed Idaho, too. Seems like a "DUH" sort of question.

They're from Tualatin, OR.

I've been quite surprised to find how many of our products and how much of our produce comes to Boise via Oregon. It seems like every time I take a moment to look, we're "importing" something into our kitchen from the motherland. Even, it turns out, potatoes.

Actually, I was doing a little website/company specific job-hunting the other day, and, knowing that it has a big presence in Idaho, wandered onto the Albertsons page. Well, guess where their corporate headquarters are: Portland.

Phllllllt.

This brings me to think about the conversations we've had about how Charlie and I are going to try to localize our purchasing power as much as possible. We don't have current plans to try for a 100-mile diet, and we don't do anywhere near the shopping we should at the farmer's market (and can't afford to shop as much as we'd like at the Co-op), but we've had some conversations about what we are going to try to consider "local." Let me emphasize, we're not "locavore" purists, but we appreciate the importance and power of that movement. So, we've decided to try and support products that come from a one-state radius: Washington, Oregon, Nevada, Utah, Montana, etc.

And probably from Mexico, too. Gotta have those avocados.

More importantly, we've decided to try to prioritize our spending when it comes to food--particularly meat. While neither of us is planning on becoming a vegetarian yet, we have decided to do our best to make ethical meat purchases. Rather than buy that cheap meat at the big box grocery store, we've decided to spend a little more on the small ranch raised, grass-fed products--or, if we can't justify the expense, we'll go without. Happy piggies taste better, and will make us feel better in the end. Not to mention we'll support small operations so as to avoid the ethical treatment issues, waste issues, and importing-across-large-distances issues.

So, anyhow. We're on the hunt for some good Idaho meat. Guess we'll have to visit the Co-op after all! Unless you know of a good meat producer in Tualatin?

On Idaho.

Well, believe it or not, despite having the Olympics to wrench ourselves away from (well, wrench myself away from, Charlie seems to have no trouble), we've still managed to get out and about a little over the past week. I apologize for the lack of updates, Charlie is due up to post a great entry about our two most recent camping trips, and I was saving the spotlight for him. Unfortunately, life and work got in the way, and he's off to McCall for a weekend leadership retreat. So, until he gets back, and puts together a great post about camping in Idaho, you'll just have to suffer with me instead.

That's not to say that things aren't a little busy in my life as well. I've had some leads on jobs lately that have led to a couple interviews. I'm sort of superstitious over talking about such things while they're still in the unconfirmed phases (job opportunities), so I'll give you more details later. They've both great jobs, and so far all the people have been extremely nice. I had one interview on Tuesday, and another lined up for next Thursday. So, even though I'm not showing many of my cards, keep your fingers crossed. As nice as taking a break from work has been, I think the cat is getting tired of sharing his couch.

I mentioned a little that we'd been doing some camping lately--we had an amazing trip up to the Sawtooth Mts. that I'll let Charlie fill the details in around later. But we traveled with Charlie's parents and friends, seven of us in total, and had the chance to see Stanley, ID, and the amazing area around it. Really, really spectacular.

Charlie and I had a conversation on the car trip home about Idaho in general. How are you feeling about it? What's your impression so far? We were both of the opinion that we're quite, quite fond of the place so far--especially everything north of the foothills. We've had some remarkable trips already. As for Boise, and the more arid parts of the state, I think they're growing on us, but there's still some growing left to do. We're toying with the idea of a Labor Day weekend camping trip south of here, and driving down toward Salt Lake City for the weekend. Maybe that will give us the chance to really appreciate this desert climate.

I've gotten out into the foothills for a little sagebrush appreciation lately, and I've found it quite interesting. So dry, and such a different climate from what I'm used to. But I certainly think there's beauty there, and I'm working on finding it for myself.

I'm trying to think of an especially interesting anecdote to share with you before I go, but it's still early here, so my brain is running on empty. I'm sure I'll come up with something as soon as I sign off. If so, I'll let you know.


UPDATE: While musing over something interesting to share with the blog-o-sphere, I remembered this post that I put up before our camping trip over on Portlandiaquill. It's about getting used to all the creepy crawly and extreme things that we've been encountering here. If things like spiders with boxing-glove-shaped genitalia sound curious and interesting to you, you should probably read it. And for the record, we've killed like five of them now. IN OUR HOUSE. I'm trying to talk Charlie into getting a vacuum cleaner despite the fact that we have hardwood floors. GUHHHHH.....!!!!!

A funny story about moving out (better late than never)

So, this story is a little belated timeline-wise. But I wanted to wait until things were all wrapped up with our property management company back in Portland before exposing this story to the world (internet). For those of you that haven't heard it yet, it's a doozy.

About a month ago (actually, exactly a month ago yesterday) Devon and I were working hard to complete the final scrub-down of our house in Portland. Everything was packed up and crammed into cars and moving vans, and the house was looking good. As we sweated and scrubbed in the 90 degree heat, we ticked off rooms: bedrooms, bathrooms, closets, living room--DONE! We had the kitchen left to scrub, and a final zoom through with the vacuum. Devon was scrubbing the kitchen, and I was touching up a little paint damage we'd managed to do to the baseboards around the house.

Let me advise you right now, NEVER do baseboard touch-up work in a house that you are about an hour away from being DONE with. NEVER AGAIN.

I was in one of the bedrooms, scootching my way around the floor of the room on my butt, filling the little dark spots where the paint had been chipped off. Let me add, the baseboards in our house were white, so I had a can of white paint I was carrying around with me. Paint can in hand, I stood up to take a look at how things were going, and promptly stubbed my toe on the carpet and tripped. The paint can flew out of my hands, and paint exploded across the BROWN carpet and onto the tan walls. There was paint EVERYWHERE.

Based on the speed at which Devon made it into the room, the tone of my voice when I howled "OH NO, DEVON!!!!" must have been a pretty good indicator of my emotion: panic. We grabbed as many towels as we could find and started frantically sopping up paint. What in the HELL were we going to do? Not only was our deposit as good as gone, we were probably going to have to pay to have the whole damn room re-carpeted--maybe even the whole HOUSE.

We had been probably TWO hours from being done with the house, and still hadn't had dinner. The frantic brainstorming started. I encouraged Devon to start helping with the carpet rather than the walls (we had matching paint for the walls, we could touch that up later). Thinking back to what had worked best as far as getting the paint brushes clean, I told Devon we HAD to keep the paint wet. If we let it dry, there was no hope left. I grabbed a water bottle and then a bucket and started pouring water directly on the carpet. Then came the dish soap. It had worked for getting the paint out of the brushes, why not the carpet? So, with a sponge mop, a bucket of water, rags and a bottle of dishsoap, we went to work. And believe it or not, it started to come up.

We managed to get about 1/2 of the paint out that way, I think (or maybe it was just more spread out?). Devon started thinking, and remembered that she'd seen carpet cleaners for rent at Fred Meyer. At this point, it couldn't hurt. She jumped in the car, and drove out to the store to see about renting one. Sure enough, they had them. Unfortunately, they required photo ID to rent one. And hers was locked in her office at work (oh, the coincidence). She blasted home, tossed me her car keys (mine was packed with plants--no room for a steam cleaner), and I went and grabbed the machine.

I cannot BELIEVE how well it worked. It was outstanding. Emily, David, and their friend Allen came by to pick up Flymo (our hovercraft lawnmower) as I was sucking up the last of it and drying out the carpet. By that point, aside from my frazzled appearance, they swore you couldn't tell there'd been a bucket of paint spilled all over the carpet. The other awesome thing about the cleaner, is that it sucked up all the water we'd dumped on the carpet trying to prevent the paint from drying.

Devon stopped by the next day to check on things, and she said there was no sign of the disaster. Sure enough, we got our deposit back from the management company today, and it was the entire thing.

Good grief.

The moral of this story is: don't play with paint in rental houses.

Extra curricular.

I promise that this is, in fact, a Charlie and Ariel blog... searching and applying for jobs (while not far from a full-time job in and of itself) leaves me with a little more down time than Charlie has had recently to post updates. I’m sure than when our internet is up and running, you’ll hear from him a little more frequently.

Aside from all the moving in and job-hunting stuff, we’ve been pretty busy since we arrived.

To begin, as an amazing welcome to Boise gift, Brian and Marsha (friends of the Varlands), gave Charlie and I tickets to attend a performance of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, put on by the Idaho Shakespeare Festival. It was an impressive show. The acting was exquisite, and the subject, though a little somber for a typical Fourth of July, was poignant and thought-provoking.

The setting for their plays couldn’t have been more perfect. The performances take place around sunset, a little outside of town, in a sleek amphitheater tucked into a bend of the Boise river. Before the show, you package up a picnic (including beer or a bottle of wine!), and bring it and your blanket or lawn chairs to the theater. The seating is terraced, and you can find your assigned grassy plot, and set up camp. They also have tables and chairs set up further back for those less naturally-inclined (or with more extravagant picnics). Watching live theater in the cool night air (a relief after those 100-degree days!), with a bottle of wine and picnic is really about as good as it gets. I can appreciate why it’s such a beloved staple of Boise culture.

We’ve done a little biking up and down the Greenbelt (probably 5 miles in each direction, east and west), and have taken several walks around the North End (the historic district our apartment borders upon). It’s interesting to see a climate so different from that which we’re accustomed. Cottonwood trees thronging the river banks, "puncture vines" (still not sure what they are specifically except that they sound BAD) in the open areas surrounding the bike trail, and dry, dry, dry once you get away from the river. Despite all my "woe is me" over the brown hills and the lack of count-able trees, the countryside here is growing on me. The hills not sit in my mind as more "golden" than brown, and the scarcity of trees outside of the city makes the ones we have here a little more special.

Part of my "coming around" might have had to do with the short little hike Charlie and I took up at the Bogus Basin ski area a couple weeks ago. We drove up on a Friday (before he started work) and wove our way through the summer version of ski runs (dirt trails and double-tracks) to the top of the Schafer Saddle. Our trail was choked with wildflowers and thick with butterflies. To the north and east we could see acre upon acre of woods and mountains. To the south and west, dry, flat, "golden." We really do live on the edge of where the climate changes from one to the other. It’s a unique place. We had a nice picnic on the summit and enjoyed the views of the Treasure Valley and the Sawtooth Mountains. Given my skiing ability (or pronounced lack thereof), upon looking at the signs for the different runs up there at the top I gave that view an extra-hard look--it could be the only season in which I’m able to enjoy it. Unless, of course, they start allowing people to ride the lifts up and then back DOWN again.

Most recently, we were able to catch the Twilight Criterion bike race in downtown Boise. The final two races of the day (the ones we made it there for) were the top women and men racing that night--for those bike folks "in the know" I believe I heard someone say that the top riders were Category 2 racers. Included among them was Kristen Armstrong who walloped the ladies’ field in her final race before the Beijing Olympics. We had a great spot on the last corner before the finish line, and were thoroughly impressed by how fast and how nimble everyone rode. Ms. Armstrong in particular was outstanding. By the end of the race, she had left the pack in the dust--lapping them on her way to the finish line. I sent a text message to one of my bikey friends back in Portland exclaiming over this feat. Her response was "Wow, she must be a professional." It was later that we realized we’d seen someone headed for the Olympics. Explained a lot.

The men’s race was also exciting, though from our position it was difficult to tell how many laps they had left or how close they were to one another at the finish. Not exceedingly familiar with the competition, it also made it difficult to keep track of who was ahead and to not lose them in the pack. Despite that, the teamwork and strategy involved in the race was apparent, and we had a fantastic time watching it all unfold (even though we may not have completely understood what it was we were seeing at all times).

This coming weekend, we’re planning on putting together a short hike and overnight up in the mountains somewhere. We had some exciting thunderstorms blow through yesterday, so we’ll have to do some research and make sure there’s nothing washed out or burning where we intend to head. I think that we’re both excited to get out of the city (at last!) and see a little more of the state that we now call "home."

Until then,

xoxoxo

END EPISODE I.

(In which Charlie and Ariel pack their worldly belongings and attempt the Oregon Trail in reverse)

Some photos from the moving in process.

I've uploaded a whole slew of photos to my flickrstream. You, of course, can see the entire batch of our moving pictures there.
In the meantime, however, here are a select few to flesh out the longer post below.



As you can see, we are all still smiling. :)

This is at our first break in The Dalles. Charlie's wearing the awesome Woodpecker Trucking cap his parents found for him. It matches the giant Penske truck (for the record, I wussed out and refused to drive that truck AT ALL; Charlie is the real champ for driving it across Oregon and into Idaho).



Thank goodness for the fact that Charlie and I are cohabitating. This picture proves my crazy plant-lady tendencies. My car was packed to the gills with plants, cleaning supplies, and the cat.

All I need now is a scary Ms. Havisham cake.



We ended up having quite a bit of furniture that needed assembling. Our new Ikea loveseat is included in the tally. It was far simpler to put together than the cube of materials and 30-page booklet may have implied. We were even able to put it together as our brains slowly melted into the new hot weather.



NICE, isn't it? This was our scary view for the first couple of days. It looks like a garage! I think it's safe to say that it doesn't look like this any longer. I've taken the first couple of photos of the "finished" rooms, and will be getting them up here before long.

Updates since the prior post.

Since I typed up the prior post (at home, while un-wired), there are a few things to update. Of course, we're having our very first cloudy day. It's kind of nice. :)

Finally a post about something more than the internet

Even though the internet drama is still in the works (the internet is in a box on our couch, our property manager has verified that we have no normal phone jack, and she’s calling the owner and the phone company to see what happens next), I decided it was only fair to take a little time to type up a few observations about moving in, our experiences so far in Idaho, and getting used to living in an apartment again.

To begin, we had such a welcome send off from Portland and arrival in Boise on our moving day. Charlie’s mom and dad drove down to Portland so that his dad could assist us in driving our two cars and the moving van cross-state. It was such an amazing help to have that third person for the driving. We made a quick stop for a lovely warm breakfast (both the food and the people!) at the home of relatives of Charlie’s that live in Hillsboro, Oregon. After hugs and bon voyages, we hit the road.

There’s not a ton to say about being on the road. We drove. And drove and drove and drove. I’d had a bad experience the night before at an Oil Can Henry’s in which they essentially told me my car wouldn’t make it back to my house that night—let along all the way to Idaho!—so I was a little anxious about that most of the way. Suffice to say we made it here just fine. The cat survived the trip, too. We wedged the carrier into the front seat next to me, and he alternately meowed indignantly and slept with his back to me for the entire eight hours.

When we arrived here in Boise, family friends of Charlie’s showed up with tennis shoes and open arms and helped us unload the van. It was such an amazing help. We had six people in total helping us carry boxes from the street into our apartment. After spending the better part of two days painstaking loading things into the van, it was remarkable how fast we were able to empty it out. We then all hoofed it up to a bar and grill just up the road for a beer and a light dinner. After all the driving, and then a little drama with our apartment keys (the post office started forwarding my mail two days early, and thus the priority mail package containing our keys never made it to us in Portland—fortunately, our property manager lives within walking distance and could bring extra keys over), it was amazing to just relax and enjoy good food and such welcoming company.

Beyond that, our first week was concerned primarily with unloading boxes and trying to find things like clean underwear and the little Ziploc baggies we’d packed full of our furniture assembling hardware. In the process of opening and breaking down boxes, it was hilarious how many knives accumulated all around our house. We decided that 1) we felt exceptionally safe in case of a home intrusion (there were weapons hidden everywhere!) and 2) it would have been an excellent setting for an action movie (weapons hidden everywhere, boxes to back flip over). Sharp pointies aside, Otto settled right in, and we utilized our AC only a few times as we got used to a standard daily temperature of over 90 degrees. The other night, taking an evening walk, Charlie and I noted that since we’ve been here, it’s been sunnier than you can even imagine—we haven’t even had a single, fully cloudy day. Two weeks of exclusively sunny days. All sun, all the time.

Readjusting to apartment life has been… amusing. As it turns out, we’ve had a rock band (real, not video game) living in the basement apartment just below us. Fortunately, they sound awesome and they shut down practices by 9:00pm. Unfortunately they like to play loud and their drums are just below our dining room/library room. It’s also taken us a while to get used to the number of smokers in our building. They can’t smoke in the building, but it certainly wafts into the windows when they smoke in the rear courtyard. Finally, there’s a screamer in the building. We’re talking Herbal Essences, full blown best-experience-of-my life type of screamer (if you know what I’m insinuating). At least we know everyone is happy, right?

Everyone has been so friendly and welcoming. We’ve met almost all our neighbors, and they’re all exceptionally nice. The people above us invited Charlie up for a barbeque on the roof (I was feeling a little under the weather so declined), and the people (non-band people) in the other basement apartment complimented how good our food always smells. Oh yeah, and, as it turns out, the band moved out this week and the apartment below us is now for rent. Overall, things are good.

Adjusting to living together has been a funny process for Charlie and I, too. We’ve found we have such a funny collection of duplicate things. Two coffee brewers (the conversation went like this: “Mine makes tasty coffee!” “Mine’s smaller than yours! It fits better!” “Mine matches our other kitchen stuff!”—of course it was all in good spirits), too many knives, and too many Norton Anthologies. We’ve also found a few things that we’re curiously lacking: glasses (as in water/drinking glasses), floor lamps, chairs. As I’m sure any couple moving in together can attest to discovering, one of us is also a little less tidy than the other as well. I bet it won’t surprise anyone to hear how than dynamic breaks down. We’re thinking about getting Charlie a dust buster so that he can follow me around and pick up the trail of debris that follows in my wake. Whoops!

We’ve found that we’re also sharing our building with an unusual set of neighbors: a swarm of honeybees! The other night we were getting ready for bed, and I noticed Otto, nose to the ground, following behind a honeybee that was walking along the floor. The next night, there were three in the house, flying around the light fixture. We stuffed the gaps around the air conditioner with towels, and then the next day went outside to see if there was anything out there. Sure enough, in a crack between stones, we spotted a nest of honeybees. We elected not to make a big deal about it, considering the state of honeybees in the world right now, and I have to say, sitting near that window, I love to watch them flying to and from their nest. The towels worked wonders, and we all can coexist happily. Yellow jackets are one thing, honeybees have a whole different benign presence to them.

I think that this is about it for now as far as apartment updates go. I have plenty more to share with you all about other things we’ve seen and done since moving here, but those will appear in future posts. Stay tuned for updates about the day hike we took, the play we attended, live (free!) music, and the perils of job hunting.

Meanwhile, I’ll leave you with this funny little Boise fact. According to Wikipedia, the climate here is officially semi-arid. Other regions of the world sharing a semi-arid climate include: the Australian outback, Northern Africa, West Texas, and Pakistan. They are doing a military training exercise south of here in which they’ve created a faux Iraqi town, have hired actors, and are going to try to give soldiers a relatively similar experience to that which they’ll encounter in Iraq and Afghanistan. The newsman said that, while the temperatures were on average 10 degrees cooler here than in Iraq, otherwise it’s a remarkably similar climate.

So, there you have it. We send our love from little Persepolis.

xoxo

Ariel and Charlie