rodent follow-up

I moved the toy snakes every other day. I picked as fast as I could. But still, there were hundreds of half-eaten apricots on the ground. I've already eaten or dried all the fruit. Then I ate all the dried fruit.

. . . and I set the pits outside for my friend, the squirrel.

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Squirrel totally won.

nemesis

Right now I am excited because my apricot tree looks like this:

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And in a few weeks, I hope to have a lot of these:

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But while I wait for those beauties to ripen fully, this has been hampering my plans:

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On Saturday I saw him sitting in the crook of the tree, fat and happy, after pillaging at least, from the looks of the ground beneath the tree, forty of my apricots. He was making contented noises and looked like he was considering a nap after the difficult work of plunder. First I threw some fallen apricots his direction, then I pulled up some gardening forums and found some helpful and some amusing anecdotes and advice. Some fell along the "get out your BB gun" lines, while others pleaded for their furry friends the squirrels. "You can get your apricots at the store - they can't!" they claimed. No way; nowhere else will I get free organic produce. That fruit is mine. 

After being cautioned that hot pepper spray can get in beady little rodent eyes, prompting them scratch themselves to their own detriment, I opted for a kinder measure - the toy snakes method. I placed about six (florescent colored, not very realistic looking) toy snakes around the tree, and they seem to have done the trick. Apparently I'll have to move them every couple days to keep up the ruse. So for now, squirrel, you keep your eyes and I keep my apricots. May the best-adapted species win.

three things thursday - anniversary edition

July 28, 2005

Yesterday was our Anniversary. But we're not celebrating officially until I finish up my last paper for my summer class (which I hope, rather than believe, will be by tomorrow evening). It was a special day nonetheless. We woke a little bit early and did a few chores together, went to work, visited our patch of garden and shared a bagel at lunch, worked on a project together, ate leftovers for dinner, and watched the end of a movie we started a few days ago. Clark brought me flowers.

I like the idea of celebrating the day by doing normal things together; the fact that it was our anniversary made me more aware of how grateful I am to have Clark's companionship in day-to-day tasks. During our engagement we confidently concluded that we could "do life together." And we have. Though the confidence part ebbs and flows, the togetherness has made my life sweeter and more doable. It sounds a little ridiculous, but many of the positive aspects of my marriage came as a surprise to me. I can't articulate what I expected from marriage, but I can convey that I'm often surprised by joy.

For Clark's birthday in May I kept a journal. Every day for the month before his birthday I wrote down a few paragraphs about the things he had done that day that were meaningful to me and for which I was grateful. It was genuinely surprised at how much this activity changed my perspective and amplified my positive feelings. I was also astonished at all the service rendered and dismayed that it sometimes goes unnoticed. I absolutely recommend journaling your gratitude as a way to strengthen any relationship of your choosing.

Those who know Clark know that there is are so many things to love about him. Three things I love about Clark are

1) He has no pretense. I'm convinced he is incapable of it.
2) He is quick to apologize . . . and utterly a better person than me, especially in this way.
3) He makes me laugh and helps me take my life less seriously (it's only life, after all).

Your turn. If you feel so inclined, write something you love about this guy in the comments.

a reason to smile

I ran across this today and thought I would share the love.

trophy husband

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The scene: Clark and I pondering and discussing the possibility of me attending
law school and becoming a lawyer.

Clark - "And then I'll be your trophy husband. Well, bowling trophy, anyway.
Probably from Goodwill."

Me - laughing too hard to respond

act one, part two (by J.Clark)

Hi. J.Clark here. I’m to pen part two of the story of Linds and me. Before moving on to the Misadventures of Mormon Missionaries, I want to add my own scene – “A Complex Myopia.”

I look upon the summer Linds has described as “the summer that was.” I have a few assorted memories of the time. The first is trying desperately to think of an excuse to visit her for the nth time. Bereft of ideas, I showed up on her doorstep with a bottle of juice to and a note. I don’t think she was home. The second memory is walking out of a mind-numbingly tedious and cheerless job at a call center. My patience and will to press forward gone, I went straight to Lindsay’s house for solace. I think we ate chocolate raisins. The third memory is going to a Buzz (Stingers? Bees?) baseball game with Linds, my brother, and a tall man whose name I don’t remember (but I insisted on calling Neil). I wasn’t having a good time, and Linds must have noticed, because she gave me a hug as we walked out onto the field for a fireworks presentation. Quite the cat, she was.

Here is a picture of me at the time, sitting on a futon in Lindsay’s room:

Here is physical evidence that we were still deliciously cute back then:

Picture taken the day before Clark left on his mission.

Thank you. Look forward to my next installment. I am renaming it Act Two – “A Veritable Dearth”

month o' marriage

That’s right folks, I’m setting a theme for July. In my case, a theme can be a daunting thing - if past patterns of posting serve as predictions of the future, this post may be the last one for the month. But I’ve been feeling literary of late, and I’ve been thinking a bit on the subject. So, here goes. Stay with me. If you dare.

I married Clark five years ago this month. five. While I plan to be married to him forever after, this small landmark evokes a lot of feelings and reflections, and I thought I may as well share them. Of course I’m no expert on marriage, but my evolving sense of the meaning of marriage in general and my own unique relationship with my husband have been surprising, continuing sources of joy. I admit it's a little self-indulgent, but I'm starting with the story of us.

Act One, part one - "more than friends"

I met Clark when I was yet a babe. Just eighteen. Sometimes I still can’t fathom what brought me to Snow College, but I’m forever grateful that I spent my freshman year of college there – for many reasons, not the least of which is the inception of my friendship with Clark. At Snow, I lived in a dumpy apartment with three other girls, and Clark camped out with a rather hodgepodge group of boys in the next building. I worked in the campus post office and he worked at the campus radio station hosting a weekly show (among other things).

Truth be told, Clark spent the majority of his time with the three girls who lived upstairs from me, developing a crush on each of them in turn, though nothing romantic ever blossomed.

I dated a few people, but none for very long. Clark would occasionally pop into my apartment and charm my roommates and me with his disarming wit. We became friends and I may have even developed a crush on Clark's brother at some point (which I don't really remember, but there is some documentation to prove it in the e-mails Clark and I sent each other). In March of 2001, it became clear to me that I would move home and go to the U of U – a prospect I had mixed feelings about. I had come to love the tiny town and college and had scholarships for the next year and a position as the president of the dance co. But, my effervescent friend Katie was at the U, and though I didn’t know it then, we had some extraordinary times ahead of us.

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Home for the summer and outside our college social circles, Clark and I did all kinds of summer things together. When most of our mutual friends went back to school in August, we still had each other, and that fact provided some consolation for our feelings of abandonment. We were friends - the best of casual friends but often joked that we were "more than friends." I think we both knew that was really true, but, as you know, timing is everything.


Up next: Act one, part two - the Misadventures of Mormon Missionaries, starring Elder Gardner and Sister Heightman (though never in the same scene).

evidence of (academic) conversion

This week I start the last required class of my MPA program. It feels crazy that it's ending and even crazier that it ever began. I sort of stumbled on political science and public administration as a field of study - and it has turned out to be a delightful surprise. Studying literature as an undergrad fed my soul and increased my capacity to think critically about the world around me and my ability to articulate it all. (What more could anyone want from her college experience?!) At first, I didn't feel that way about my MPA classes; I felt a little . . . empty. Okay, maybe empty is too strong a word, but it certainly didn't fill me up like studying literature and language. Until, that is, I realized that it is literature and language with all the same compelling drama and import, it's just a specialized branch with more practical applications (at least according to the economic powers that be). I often wondered - at night, when I was huddled under the covers reading literature instead of, say, doing research for a paper - if I had made the wisest choice. But now I know.

Since spring semester finished in May I've been doing a bit of fun reading - both fiction and non-fiction of various stripes and colors. I even bought a policy analysis book for summer reading. F-U-N, right? A little beach reading, perhaps? Well, I started reading and loving it. When I went to class on yesterday, I found out that sections of my new book are required reading. And I loved my life.

they've just stopped trying

I have a love of food photography. I love it almost as much as I love food - almost. I love the way good food photography captures my senses - the colors and textures help me imagine the smells and flavors. I also really love bad food photography for its disgusting irony (think Betos - the purpose of those photographs on the menu clearly is not to make you want to eat the "food"). A new trend is simply to photograph bad food - nothing particularly wrong with the quality of the photograph, there's just no attempt to hide the industrial quality of the food. (I have to wonder if these ads are creating or answering incredibly low expectations.) Here are a few of my favorites:

                                           

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The strategically placed onions and the sponge on bottom really make this a work of art. And speaking of American "cheese" . . .

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. . . would you like a square in your Jack in the Box taco? Oh, and please don't forget the drizzle of french dressing . . . and some well placed lettuce on the plate for authenticity.

                                                                     

And last but not least, and in a category all its own:

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Finally, some truth in advertising.

to Zen and back

School's out for summer two weeks, and we're already back from our vacation (okay, this post is now officially a month old). It was wonderfully diverse - maybe the best vacation ever. 

We drove 1400 miles, flew 1600 miles, biked and walked all of Denver, hiked 5 miles, read two books, reunited with three old friends, met one beautiful baby, and took innumerable naps. We also stayed with strangers (via airbnb) and visited a couple of farmers' markets, an amusement park, a zoo, an art museum, a college campus, and a national park. There were many great moments, but the best part was spending some QT with Paul and Jess and their baby girls doing everything and nothing . . . including cooking and eating, which were our two favorite shared activities when we were neighbors. I was finally able to unwind after a ridiculously difficult, busy month of finals and other projects. I hadn't realized how crazy I was getting; I'm relieved to be feeling so much more centered again.

The ten days we were gone, I was largely unplugged - no internet, dead phone. I didn't read the news. I didn't even remove my iPod from my luggage.  It was interesting to vacation sans camera. (My old, despised camera is now part of the greater Yellowstone ecosystem). The camera phones captured a few memorable moments, but even the phones died after a while and we were forced to live each delightful moment without the burden of documentation.  Living without a lens really helped me focus on the beauty of being, and what I thought would be an inconvenience became a learning experience. Here's to vacations and living in the moment.