The Great Coffee Table Search... or... Welcome to Craigslist Boise

I will just do away with the "I'm-so-sorry-we-haven't-posted-in-forever" apologies right now. Life, Christmas, a case of the blues, and winter all struck at once, and things get behind.

If anyone is reading any longer, and you're interested in keeping up, most of our recent adventures (including a trip to the Snake River Birds of Prey Area) have been documented on my (Ariel's) Flickr stream: http://www.flickr.com/photos/arielarielariel . There, you can also find interesting things like The Funeral Cone and Charlie's New Personal Hygiene Plan.

But, the point of this post isn't to fill you in on things that we've been up to, but, rather, on one specific point of interest: a photo-walk through the truly amazing selection of coffee tables available for sale on Craigslist here in Boise.

Last weekend, Charlie got the idea that perhaps we needed a coffee table for this room--with the thought that, with a table, we might live in it a little more. Always up for a hunt--especially if it involves things like furniture--I immediately pulled up Craigslist to find the perfect secret bargain.

In doing so, I forget that, even here in Boise, Craigslist is no longer the somewhat hip, "subculture" exchange of goods that it once seemed. Or, for that matter, even just a place to get good stuff from people with decent taste.

Which leads me to the thought that maybe the problem isn't a slide toward a trailerpark garage sale, but rather a simple difference in taste between myself and the average Craislist seller.

Then again, perhaps you'll disagree?

It's hard, in fact to disagree with the seller's statement that this is an "impressive" coffee table. Though, I find the expectation that they'll get the requested $500 for it "impressive" as well.


Impressive wasn't quite up our alley, so instead I opened up one that the seller described as very "sterdy" (sic), and "handmade." I never would have guessed it was handmade. Or, sterdy for that matter, actually.


No, I was on Craigslist in search of a diamond in the rough--a bargain that we'd love, and could really live with... "Yours for only $100!" How could we resist? (Apparently, you could buy the whole living room set--which, I sincerely hope included the... mmm... "arrangement"(?) atop the table). I'll bet they would have thrown in the fireplace guard for a good price, too.


How about this stunning ensemble? For only $500 you can have the chairs AND table. Just in case I ever needed to have a "Parisian Cafe Gardern Party" in my living room.



Too curlicued for our tastes.

One of the things that was most fascinating about browsing coffee tables, was reading the excuses people gave for getting rid of things. Rather than "Good Lord, it's just too damn UGLY!" (which the people of THIS table should have said...)


People would came up with a series of curious excuses. Some were heartbreaking, and reflected the current economic downturn ("Lost house. Moving into our RV. Can't keep the furniture."), others reflected new life changes. For instance, the table below was being sold for the simple reason of, "BABY TAKING OVER HOUSE. MUST SELL." (No hard feelings, honey, but the baby's just TAKING OVER THE HOUSE.) I just noticed that the baby appears to be taking over the picture too, in the background.


Well, we don't have a baby to worry about, and who knows, maybe round is our thing?


Maybe not. It was also amazing that people thought they were doing you a favor by passing along an amazing deal for a table on which they'd OBVIOUSLY spent way too much money... This lovely Jaguar number could be had for the STEAL price of around $500. They'd originally bought this "unique" (their word, how true) gem in Las Vegas for $1000. Oh well, better than gambling it away... I think?


Shortly after this post, I ran across another advertising a similar table. Maybe a bear is better suited to an Idaho lifestyle. What's up with the animals bearing our burdens?


A couple of my other favorites include:

"We just don't use it." (I wonder why??)

"$200! Won't Last! (Can be easily spray-painted a different color!)" (Why would I spend $200 on a table only to SPRAY-PAINT it?)


A handmade creation that they put a lot of "time, effort, and hard work" into... (Yes, the legs look like firewood, and it's covered in bottle caps.)


I just have no words for this one. Is this even a TABLE?


And, finally. Tonight's winner. Found with the end-all, be-all caption: "Great in Any Setting!"


Suffice to say, in wrapping up, that we went home table-less. Better luck next time?

Waiting for our ship to come in.

Like everyone else faced with traveling through the "Storm of the Century" that's marauded the United States, Charlie and I are hanging out in an airport right now, waiting for our flight to come in. Fortunately for us, we've only been here for about an hour--we live ten minutes from the Boise airport, and so were able to easily manage the delays without camping out.

I'm pretty amazed to hear of all the madness that's happening to you all out in Seattle and Portland. As most of you know, I'm a HUGE fan of crazy weather--it breaks my heart a little not to be there for it all! We've gotten a little weather out in Boise, too, but it's not quite the same around here.

For example: it snowed in Boise on Sunday night, and not ONLY was I expected to get to work on Monday, but I was expected to BE THERE ON TIME, too! And we had like, THREE INCHES OF SNOW! The humanity. It's just not quite the same when things keep functioning despite the weather.

That said, everyone wishes that things like airports and trains functioned throughout storms. Charlie and I are trying to fly in to the SeaTac airport for the first leg of our triple-state-Christmas-extravaganza--the same airport where 3,000 people have been sleeping the past few nights because they couldn't get flights out. From the news stories I've been able to put together, they've run out of food, blankets, and flights. Remind me again why Charlie and I are trying to GET to this place that thousands of people are desperately trying to LEAVE? It's a little mad.

Here we are:

Snowtown, USA.

Well, it seems that way to Charlie and I, at least.

By now you've probably seen Charlie's last post about our Christmas tree. It was lots of fun to go pick it out together.

Currently we're enjoying (?) our first winter storm in Boise. It's been going on for about a week now. Everything is snowy and a little wild, but the city seems to do a good job managing the weather. Far better than Seattle and Portland who are in the throes of hysteria right now with their monster winter storms.

It's been warmer that they were originally predicting--only into the 10's and MAYBE a single digit. Still, it's been hard for a little kitty to adjust to. He spends his time rotating between a few warm places in our house. I almost feel like I should draw a Family-Circle style chart to illustrate it. He insists on sleeping on the bed at night. Then once the humans are done showering for the day, he sits in the warm shower (IN THE WET SHOWER!) for 20 minutes or so. Then he moves to the chair by the heater. He alternates between that, and between sitting in front of the other space heater all day.

And sometimes he burrows into any pile of fabric he can find.


Today when I got out of the shower, I sat down on the bed, and heard a quiet little "mrow" from under a pile of blankets and clothing. I peeled back a few layers, and found the cat curled up, INSIDE my skirt. Okie dokie.

Despite Otto's wimpiness, we still made it outside for a walk today. I'll share a few shots of Boise in the winter and snow to give you an idea of what we're looking at. We're supposed to get another 3 or 4 inches tonight. This is on a walk up to Camel's Back. There were tons of people sledding and playing in the snow.

Christmastime is here...

Ariel and I bought our first Christmas tree together for our apartment last weekend. We picked up a four footer from a little Christmas tree lot off of Broadway here in Boise. Since it was so small, we had no trouble at all fitting it in our Toyota Yaris.



Shortly after getting it home, we pulled out our ornaments and got to work on decorating it.









We also pulled out some other Christmas doodads and decorated the house - it's starting to feel festive around here!



We'll be heading out of town soon to celebrate Christmas with family, first in Washington, then in Illinois. But for now, we're enjoying the holiday season for the very first time in Boise.

Ho hum. Back to the real world.

Uh.... The blog. Right.

We have an excuse this time, I promise. The past three weekends, Charlie and I have had out-of-town guests sleeping cozily on our couch and floor. Friends from Portland, friends from Washington, and Charlie's sister have all graced our humble abode.

What a wonderful time we've had. We paddled about on Swan boats in Julia Davis Park. We toured the Old Idaho Penitentiary. We got stuck in a thunderstorm and learned all about our new state at the Idaho State History museum. We saw original wagon-wheel ruts in the ground from the Oregon Trail. We ate three ice cream potatoes. We tried a new restaurant. We took a chilly hike in the foothills. We lit a fire in our fireplace for the first time. We experienced our first snowfall in Boise. We watched the debates, cooked delicious meals, played board games, drank wine and beer, and had great conversations. Wow.

We're not sure what to do with ourselves now! Perhaps on Saturday morning Charlie and I will find ourselves drawn to Boise State University and the greenbelt for our weekly tour about... it's becoming a tradition! Will our stomachs rumble because we haven't stuffed ourselves to the gills at a weekend breakfast out? What's Otto going to do when he has to sleep in the living room because there are no guests to protect from his over-eager cuddles?

It's been busy, and so, so much fun, but I'm relieved that I don't have to fuss over my clutter-pile of mail this week. Otto will also appreciate not being chased around the house by the nasty broom as we sweep the hardwoods.

In the end, though, Charlie and I are so grateful to have friends and family that care enough about us to want to fly to the middle of nowhere (haha, for you coastal folks, anyhow) on their vacation weekends just to visit us.

A few other things have been afoot, too. Charlie and I are plotting a weekend escape to the Hailey/Sun Valley area for my birthday this weekend (birthday is on a MONDAY this year, how disappointing!). We're hoping for lots of colorful trees, and a little time spent checking out Ketchum, Sun Valley, and a little hiking in the area. We might even make it over to Craters of the Moon. I'm looking forward to that. Apparently last weekend in Hailey, there was a big, awesome festival called The Trailing of the Sheep. This involved 1500 sheep being run down the streets of the city. We are definitely THERE next year. Apparently it's a really remarkable festival, and was listed as one of the top ten fall festivals in the world by MSN travel. Sheep!

Finally, I've picked up an on-again off-again part-time job in addition to my full-time one (that Charlie, he is so stingy--I had to look for another job in order to justify a tin of lip balm now and then....). This week I made a little pocket cash doing some pet-sitting for a guy who works for my company.

I was watching four pets: two dogs and two cats. The cats are old as old can be--sweet, creaky creatures that followed me around the house begging for a scratch or two. The dogs are as different as they come: one, an old mutt, is shaggy, slow, and sweet. He wanders about the house, clicking his toe nails and slowly surveying his domain. The other dog, a bounces-off-the-walls 3-year old Doberman is quite another story. She's spring-loaded and wired for sound. Even after having the chance to meet her with her people around, the first time I showed up it took us most of an hour to come to an understanding. I don't blame her in the least ("WHO are you, WHY are you in my house, and I'm-in-a-crate-and-can't-do-anything-but-bark-at-you-and-snarl-a-little!"), I think she was wound up, nervous, and protective. I ended up bribing her with her obsessive love: a rubbery frisbee. As her owner later said, "when faced with the option of protecting her house or playing frisbee, you know where her priorities are." After thoroughly exhausting her with a game of fetch, we were suddenly fast friends--even the kind of friends who try and climb in each other's laps, and dance in wiggly circles when they show up at the house the next day. In all, it was a great experience, but certainly one that stretched my creativity and pushed my boundaries a little (in a good way) when it comes to dealing with critters. Tonight is the first night in a couple days that I'm not taking care of them... and you know? I kind of miss it. Otto on the other hand is glad that I'm no longer covered in grass bits and dog slobber.

For that matter, so is Charlie.

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.