Camden

On Thursday we (Nana, Big Opa, Jake, Elena, Erin, Joanna, and Arlo) all went to Camden to visit Aunt Sue and see the Maine coast. First we had a lovely lunch at Sue's with Sam. Then we headed to Rockport.

From there, Sue took us to a local farm to see a herd of Galloways - we are big fans of Galloway cows thanks to Clancey the Courageous Cow, a beltless Galloway. The farm manager showed up and we got to take a closer look. We think we spotted Clancey and had a nice time learning about the herd.

Then Sue took us up a blueberry hill - Jake was crying in frusteration as our batteries pooped out halfway up the hill. Elena almost pooped out as well (no nap) but emergency cookies and Nana's patience helped her summit the hill and enjoy the wonderful evening light. Then we had dinner in Camden and headed home.

Beach time

Do you think that almost 2 feet of snow would stop our little beach lover from getting her time in? Of course not! Today we hiked out to Red Camp on the lake. Elena was excited to see the beach and brought along her toys to play there, shovel and buckets were loaded into the sled along with a wool blanket. Our little bathing beauty wore tights, pants, snow bibs, turtle neck, wool river driver, parka, and her felt pack boots along with mittens and wool hat. She made ice cream happily parked in a drift next to the small hump that is the fire ring in warmer weather. We enjoyed a nice walk in the snow and had lunch with hot cocoa in the new boat house (with heat!).


Headed to the beach


Time to play in the 'sand'

Christmas "Morning" Madness

What happens when you have a house full of 13 people including a 18 month old up at 6am and a 28 year old up at 10 am (motivated by the brute squad) for Christmas morning? Well, you don't start opening socks until noon! Let's just say that Elena was very, very patient.

Elena and Brayden passed the morning wait by vacuming the house with the ball popper. (also used as morning wake up for those with the gall to sleep past seven). Then we had breakfast, opened stockings, and started in on presents. Eventually we had to take a nap break for the kiddos and then started up again before our Christmas dinner of roast beast.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to all our friends and family. We are in Maine to celebrate this year.


Blogger is being quite a brat and not uploading pictures very well so here one and more posts will be on their way soon!

Tree Time

We love Christmas Trees! Last year we had a paper one, remember? This year we made up for it with three trees (one for the house, one for Elena's room and one with Nana & Big Opa).

We cut our family tree the day after thanksgiving. Gram and Opa were along to supervise. First we drove up to the parkway for a picnic I packed.

It was 32 degrees and the wind was blowing about 20 miles an hour. We ate in the car.

Then on the way home picked up this lovely little beauty from a family tree farm. It only cost us $15! For $25 you could get one of the huge church sized ones in the back log. Gram was busy trying to figure out if a tree qualified as checked baggage.


When we arrived in Maine on Thursday, there was snow! So we got to take elena out for her first snowy tree picking. It should be noted that she does not take after Gram and enjoyed the little jaunt!

I even found the tree this year! Very exciting.

And we made snow angels.

The Loft

Admit it, you've been waiting. Agonizing, gnashing your teeth. Few things prep the literary taste buds like the prospect of reading about someone (some idiot maybe) building a shed to keep pigeons in. Think Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, The Grapes of Wrath, epic occurrences, epic story lines. All swathed in 3/8" CDX plywood. This is the stuff dreams are made of.

It's been a long time coming, but the loft was a long time building. Over the course of about a month and a half of absent momma, Elena and I managed to put it all together. Except for the paint -- our savoring of the building process ran us short on the climate end of the spectrum and we're going to have to wait for spring before those gallons of latex can do more except hold down a shelf in the garage.

Like all projects, this naturally started with the expenditure of funds. In exchange we received raw materials -- miraculously almost ALL of them -- delivered to the house. The RAV4 is a great little vehicle and even lugs a few 2x4's or a sheet of plywood if needed, but the load of lumber, block, shingles and wire necessary for our "little" (biggest one I've built in about 5 years) loft would just have swamped it. So I went to Home Depot armed with a list. Left with the same list, a lighter wallet, and a receipt and two mornings later this guy showed up and dropped the whole pallet of lumber right in the garage:



Elena and I were both mightily impressed and "forklift" (kid sized) was immediately added to someone's Christmas list.

Phase one, that weekend, was leveling the site and getting the foundation square and level.



With Elena as sidekick



it only took about 4 hours.

The next day she left me in the lurch and went for a bike ride with Erin:



But I persevered and managed to get the deck onto the foundation, side walls and rafters up, and get the frame in front for the aviary.



Week of rain passes, Erin leaves town, and Elena and I do a Halloween party.



Post Halloween party, Elena and I did our level best to get the roof on as well as the front and back walls. Walls weren't too bad, but without a ladder the roof was a trick. Elena tried to build a path to the sky, but we ran out of bricks:



The "hard work" involved in that necessitated a break for Halloween cupcake:



Which unfortunately prompted a sugar coma:



Meanwhile I made a "ladder" out of a 4x4 and some 2x4 scraps and my sudden appearance on the roof catapulted Elena into quantum warp hyperactivity. Somehow we survived and even got a good slug of the shingles in place.



Erin returned and we got another week of rain. Following which, with winter looming, I managed to get the roof done, the aviary on the front, and all the "pigeon holes" on the inside completed.





None too soon (actual finish of everything was post another trip of Erin's and on Thanksgiving weekend) as our first residents arrived the first week of December. Archangels, noted for the beautiful plumage, are descendants of -- and believed to be more-or-less the image of, the ancient holy pigeons of Babylon who lived at the top of the same named tower and flew up into the heavens to "commune" with the Gods. Not bad credentials, hopefully their new home lives up to their ancestral expectations.

Jake! The _kings_ are here!

I have to preface this by admitting that we are not what one would describe as playing, or even practicing, church attenders. At the moment that status is decidedly "bench warmers" and if the religious right is holding out for us to come in and save them in the 4th quarter they are probably betting on the wrong horse. But we are not atheist and Christmas, including the "real" Christmas story and the concepts of familial closeness and gift giving as a symbol of love, is alive and well in our household. As a consequence of these two facts, Elena has a bit more of a pragmatic association with the Christmas story -- it having equal footing with other such Biblical sagas as "Thomas and the Big Big Bridge". Today I walked into her room to be informed that I needed to be quiet as she was talking with baby Jesus (note to self, leave rural Appalachia _soon_). I then received a lengthy discourse on baby Jesus' sleeping habits (in a covered cradle at that moment). I informed Elena that I was headed out to pull the car into the garage, got the OK, and went and did that. I walked back in from the garage to be confronted by Elena who, in an exasperated tone of voice, said "Jake! (which she has taken to calling me). The _kings_ are here!". Madness. The kings brought their kid with them (didn't know they had one did you?) and he was loud and rude and was yelling and waking up baby Jesus. Finally the kings gave their kid away to someone else because he was too loud (apparently an acceptable practice in 0 AD) and gave their gifts to Jesus -- he was sleeping so they had to put them on a shelf, maybe they should have kept their kid long enough to keep Jesus awake for the presents. With that sorted out, Elena settled down to nurse Jesus (yes, the second coming is upon us and I am the "grandfather" -- didn't know that either did you? Be a little nicer next time you see me.) while his older sister (I'd heard rumors of an older brother, but this is the first I'd learned of Jesus' 7 or 8 year old sister who he really likes quite a lot) kept him entertained.

And there you have it, "the rich, bulging, pageantry" of life with Elena in the Christmas season. Seeing as King James clearly muffed a few details in his translation, we'll be getting drafts of the "Princess Elena" translation to the copy editors soon and you can expect the accurate, revised version under pews near you by Christmas 2008.

Dutch again for a day

About a month ago, I found a woman who is from the Netherlands. She has a 2 year old and we decided to get together so that her son could practice dutch with Elena and maybe Elena would talk dutch to her. Jake and Elena went over to visit Kirsten, Xander, and Brad while I was in Utrecht. So I emailed and asked if they would like to celebrate Sinterklaus together. She said she'd just met some other Dutch people, they were having a big Sinterklaus party and would we all like to go together. So, before we knew it, we were invited to someone's home for a gathering on all the local Dutchies (and their various american spouses and assorted kids) for a borel and singing of Sinterklaus songs (they provided copies of the words, just in case!)...then there was a loud knock and the Sint himself had left a bag on the door stoop! Elena was abit freaked out from the knocking (afraid the Zwarte Piet's were out), but once she realized that kids were getting chocolate out of the bag, she was all over it. They included her in everything and the evening ended with her running around with a pack of slightly older kids teasing the really old kids (17 years old) and screaming and running all over the house, high on chocolate, stroopwafels, and olliebolen. Jake and I met new people, talked with people, and it was just really a lot of fun. It was the best time we've had in Blacksburg. We actually felt so welcomed...It was really nice. In Blacksburg, people are super friendly to you in the supermarket, but it's pretty hard to 'break in.' Not unlike the Netherlands in that respect. But I guess we thought that we'd fall more into a social scene like we used to in Santa Cruz. Not so, so tonight was especially fun...and because we got to be around Dutch people.

Unfortunately we forgot the camera - so here, picture this...Elena is shoving her face with dutch food, cheese, stamp-pot, worst, chocolate, kip curry, pepernoeten, pickled/candied ginger (gember bolen) and looking quite pleased that there is chatter in duch (though not willing to say much herself).

Kirsten, Xander, and Brad are still coming over here on actual Sinterklaus...I have secured my graduate student to bang on door and leave the presents - although this ellaborate step may not be required this year...on the other hand, she cornered one poor woman at the party with detailed questions about how sinterklaus find the boxes for chocolates, where exactly he stores them while riding his horse, where does he keep the Zwarte Piets, why did he knock, why can we see him.....

..I'd try to get a costume, but she'd expect poor Erik to speak Dutch....

Giving Thanks

(ok, so we are behind...if you want to come and do the ironing, we'll get these done quicker! ha ha).
(**photos to be added when blogger decides to behave itself**)

Thanksgiving this year was fun...we had out things back, and there was turkey! Jake has already told you about the bounty of our turkey, but this year we had Gram and Opa here to help celebrate. First, I massaged the turkey with an herbed butter - who knew pasture life could be so tense.

Then we all went for a hike while the turkey filled the house with wonderful smells. (Isn't that the best part, walking into the house after you've been gone to be greeted by the smell of roasting turkey.) Our menu was modest this year. We had to accept that it was the smallest Thanksgiving in many, many years for us. Without Heather, Meegs, paleo-Heather, and Mart, along with assorted others, we couldn't really justify (or produce) the massive side dish and dessert spread of years past. So we kept it simple - cornbread stuffing, green bean casserole, monkey rolls (which, by the way, were quite a feat as I had lost the recipe card that came with the pan Martha sent for herbed rolls in the monkey bread pan - after much internet and house searching, I just called a Williams-Sonoma and made them read the recipe to me over the phone. The woman sounded slightly annoyed, but I was determined and they were tasty...now, where is that recipe?), green bean casserole, salad, and apple pie & chocolate pie for dessert.

The night before T-giving, Elena and Opa were in charge of making the chocolate cream pie. I'm not exactly sure what happened - Elena was in charge of showing little Opa the mixer ropes - but it ended with chocolate pudding everywhere - including Elena's forehead and shirt.

Here Jake cleans it off the wall.

Little opa did admit to 'operator error.'

We had some very nice wine with dinner (our chilled version loving wrapped in our custom made 'stuffing shovel' towel from paleo-Heather - one of our treasured Thanksgiving items! After blessing, we offered the first toast, in honor of Aunt Martha, who we really, really missed that day. And from her blog, the goose looked lovely. We do request a photo of Henri's chocolate mousse, though.

Don't forget the bacon

"... six fat legs, a cape for me, and don't forget the bacon!" Or so the story goes. In our case it was more like "... 20 lbs of turkey, sausage for stuffing, and don't forget the bacon!". Meat? Yah, we got that. When Elena and I picked up the pig (well, our half) we didn't get the bacon because they were still curing it for us. We purchased our Thanksgiving turkey from the same people who did the pig and they timed the bacon to be ready with the bird. The bird, tasty, pasture raised, never frozen, and responsible for two batches of stock and countless servings, was, alas, not a heritage bird. Thus, in our life and death conversations with Elena, the reasoning for killing and eating (other than TASTY) was pretty straightforward. Better dead quickly an in our bellies than dead of slowly crushing itself to death as the Broad Breasted White (incabable of many things, most notably natural reproduction or life much beyond a year) pushed close to its first birthday. With luck they will put down heritage birds next year, regardless it was one tasty bird. Now, what was I writing about? Oh yes, "don't forget the bacon!"

I worked, but Erin, Steve, and Elena went to get the turkey and the bacon. I got home about when they did and was greeted by a house that smelled like smoke. I found a tied trash bag on the counter that smelled like smoke and hefted like dead weight and asked "Erin, what's this" --- The BACON. Cedric cured it, and did a bang up job, smokey and salty -- no nitrates so saltier than "normal" we were warned, but several taste tests have proved the end product quite desirable -- and delivered the entire side to us, intact. Even in my quasi rural life, I had never seen a "side" of bacon to realize that it is really, literally, the SIDE of the pig. The size and heft of the time the Weigels brought home a placenta to use in their haunted house (which was always noteworthy and incredibly spooky, but that year was particularly memorable) but with a much more appealing consistency and aroma. In any case, it left no doubt -- unlike some of the more sliced and diced cuts -- that you are eating a hunk of an animal.

Erin whacked it into chunks to freeze, leaving one out to slice and fry as needed (next morning, and again several days later and, oh wow, that chunk is gone -- better get another one out) and that is the story of the bacon. Seen here in all its pre-slicing glory with a wine bottle for scale. Sorry sniff and taste tests are not available online. Take my word for it, get a side of a pig, have someone who knows how cure it, eat it repeatedly and give thanks!



The pigeon loft is essentially done and will make its debut shortly, as soon as I run out of meat to blog on!

You can't go home again

Last Wednesday night I flew back to the Netherlands. By Thursday morning I was on a train to Utrecht and had already cried in the bathroom at Schipol - the 'mind your step' voice echoing brought back too many fond memories of all the trips our family took in and out of that airport.

It was very difficult when I first arrived in Utrecht. It was like constantly over riding my autopilot. I wanted to walk down Marieplatts and into the Nieuwgracht house, plunk my stuff down and take a nap. But of course, this was not the case anymore. I instead took a bus to the hotel Ouwi, where Jake stayed during his first two trips to Utrecht and continued up to the university. I continued to get choked up, just seeing the bikes flit by, listening to dutch, hearing the church bells, remembering things from each place I passed. It was wonderful to see all my friends and colleagues at Utrecht. That evening I picked up my bike, stripped down and with a bum pedal, and Joao joined me for dinner. I collapsed into bed and fell asleep, as much from emotional as physical exhaustion. The next morning I woke up, and biked over to the Nieuwegracht house and the old way to Ukkie, where I stopped to drop off a letter and package of art work that I promised elena I would deliever. They were extremely surprised to see me and several of the children came charging toward me yelling 'Elena's momma! Elena? Elena!?' They looked at her photos and drawings and I told Laura and Sandra how Elena was doing. It was touching that she was so remembered, especially knowing how much Elena remembers and cares for all of them. I took a few photos for Elena and managed to get out without bursting into tears for the little cozy home that was elena's. Although I did realize that soon Elena would have outgrown Ukkie, anyway. Friday I meet with my Utrecht colleagues and had a wonderfully productive visit. Friday night my good friend Maurits invited me to his home in the country to join his wife, Menneke for dinner and meet his new baby, Selle. It was a real treat to spend the evening with them and Selle is an absolute doll!

Saturday morning, I had a long shopping list that Elena, Jake and I had compiled. Most important, of course, was to resupply on cheese. I arrived at the market via bus, rather than bike (having left her, bum pedal and all, at the building), to find Tony and family. They were hoping for Elena as well, of course, but appreciated the note, photos, and drawings Elena made them. Then I arrived at Holland Kaas Centrum to find a shocked Lonnike. She helped me pick out as much cheese as I could carry (remembering Elena's favorites!) even though she was a bit cross that I forgot to email her ahead of time so she could draw something for Elena herself. I took photos of Tony & Family and Lonnike to send back to Elena. Within no time my backpack was filled and the cheese was extremely heavy. So I returned to the hotel and emptied my bags. I planned to return to Centrum and take a lot of photos. I realized as I started our Utrecht photo book that I didn't have quite as many photos of 'everyday things' as I would like. So I decided this was my chance. I spent the rest of the morning and afternoon wandering to all of our usual spots, snapping photos and finishing up my shopping. Eventually I wound my way to the Niuewgracht house - seeing our ghosts all the while. Each ally reminded me of so many happy memories, I could almost feel Elena's hand in mine or the rumbling of zippy's wheels on the cobblestones. I'd filled up my camera card and was just lurking around the Nieuwgracht house, I think hoping that some how magically the key would appear in my pocket and my family would appear inside, when I noticed that over one of buzzers the last name of our friend from summer 2006 above the button. Shocked that she would still be there into the winter (we just missed Sharon by one day this summer) but also convinced that she wouldn't leave her name on a buzzer after she left, I hit the button....and Sharon's voice appeared. I'm not sure who was more shocked - but she buzzed me in and I ran up the stairs to the top apartment. We hugged and laughed in surprise. Andrea was with her, so I got to meet her. We caught up on all of our news and lives. I did cry because I was so wishing that Elena & Jake were there...I knew how much they would want to see Sharon, to be in the Nieuwgracht House again. We shared so many fond memories (well, the iced tea was fond - the summer heat was terrible!) They invited me for dinner. I dashed back to the hotel to empty the memory card and finish up my photos. Over stampot we decided to all go together to Amsterdam the next morning and visit the Van Gogh museum (the one museum that I really wanted to return to).

Sunday morning, I packed my very heavy bag (filled with, among other things, a double kick stand and bike rack for Jake, as they are impossible to find in the US) and carried my heavy bag of cheese with me to the train station. We stashed my luggage in a locker in Amsterdam and wandered off through the city. Andrea shared her favorite hidden courtyard in Amsterdam (it was beautiful) and we wanted the Van Gogh until our feet hurt and we required cappuchino to continue. Dinner was a tiny hole in the wall thai kitchen with AMAZING food that Sharon knew of. They helped me with my bag to the train to Leiden before they dashed off to the train to Utrecht. I was on my way to Noordwijk for a conference as the European Space Agency, where I've been for this week.

This trip back was so much like my trip to Santa Cruz in 2006 to defend my dissertation. Then, Utrecht was strange and stressful and didn't really feel like home. I was alone in Santa Cruz without Jake and Elena and I have a distinct memory of crying in the Trader Joe's parking lot because I missed them so much, and I wanted them there, but mostly I wanted Santa Cruz to be home again. Here, it was the same. Blacksburg doesn't quite feel like home, it's still new and stressful. We still talk about Utrecht like it is our home. Of course, Utrecht isn't our home anymore, and wandering the streets alone vividly illustrated that to me. As Jake said in an email to me this week,
"This is hard on all of us and I think that is just a reflection of how good, profound, and special our time there was."

Splinter and Knothead

Who, for those of you heathens who are not up on your cartoon trivia, are the niece and nephew of Woody Woodpecker. But also put on an appearance in our house this evening. We got home after our dusk bike ride, Elena was in a cheery mood but no sooner than we were in the door she started complaining that her finger hurt. 'Matthew hit me on my finger' I'm thinking "Sure he did, and it didn't hurt all day until we walked in the door at home. In the words of Bill Cosby "RIGHT"" So I offer up the usual offputs, 'You don't need ice' 'You don't need a bandaid' -- cursory looks showed no swelling and no blood, it couldn't have been *that* bad since there was no accident report. (this would be the part where Knothead is in full effect).

An hour later Elena is STILL complaining, so, aging fellow that I am, I run my glasses down the bridge of my nose and take a closer gander at her finger tip. Hmmm, a little red and angry looking, with what looks like a scab across it, but not quite. Drumroll please as Splinter enters stage right. OK. Elena is right, her finger hurts. Not because Matthew hit it, though tender as it is that probably smarted a bit, but because she has a splinter. We'll take it out. Tweezers? Check. Pin? In sewing kit. Sewing kit? In box waiting for shelves. Which box? Dunno. Follow 5 minutes of fruitless pin searching while keeping pots on stove with dinner from boiling over. Reasoning behind pin? I usually use a pocket knife to get my splinters out, but thought the knife blade might be a bit psychologically much for Elena. Well. No pin, so out came the Leatherman (later referred to as 'that scratchy thing'). A little scraping and slicing later ("Daddy! Don't cut off my whole finger" Daddy -- aka Knothead -- trying not to do just that as he bursts into laughter, cross eyed, with his glasses at the end of his nose. "Trust me, I'm a doctor") we had the splinter out, neosporin and a bandaid on. Post op patient and owy seen here:



Note entire finger still attached. Operation declared full success. Post op celebration with Sheperd's Pie.

Forget TV, it's all right here -- porcidal maniacs that chop 'em up and put them in the freezer and surgery on the fly, sans anesthetic.

Here pig pig pig

Yesterday Elena and I made the trek (the claim was 30 minutes, either I'm an extremely cautious driver, they know a faster route than I do, or they can't tell time because the trip was an hour) up to Weathertop Farms to get our half of a pig. It's all cut and frozen and, theoretically, fills about a banana box. Super. Life is easy, life is good. I haven't had a pork chop in 5 months, so I'm looking forward to this. Good thing. You buy at hanging weight and the slip had 110 lbs on it. We lost our half of the head etc., but probably netted at least 75 lbs of pork. Whew! I forget the breed of pig that they raise, but it's a heritage breed that "does well on pasture. They eat a lot of grass." No kidding, 220 lbs at 6 months of age is a LOT of grass.

Now, 6 months of age. That's right. They put down two rounds of pigs a year and kill every 6 months. Which means round two was just down on pasture and we got to go check them out. Allow me to preface this by pointing out, or reminding, that you can't do ANYTHING with a 3 year old without answering "why" a million times. So just exactly "why" were we going to get our pig? How did we get half a one? Well, turns out the pig is dead, and it gets dead by being killed. You can see where this is going. And oh yes, we don't have facilities to kill, process, and freeze our own pig and no, you can't just stick it live in the freezer and go from there. "Why?" Well, turns out that freezing to death is cruel. And so on, so we arrived at the farm with one very enlighted little girl churning over what kind of killing is (food animals) and isn't (people) OK and why this is so (Uhhhh, yes, do tell us Daddy... digging deep for that "because").

So off we tramp to go down and see the new little pigs. Who ran and hid



'They probaly think we'll put them in the freezer' --- Right on the money sweetheart:




Mmmmmmm. Chops.

Next question: "How do you kill the pigs?" Answer: " With a gun." Dinner table conversation later that evening? "What is a gun and why we don't touch them"

Knowing where your food comes from can be very enlightening for everyone. My take home message? Good thing I don't teach philosophy or religion, I'm not really good at explaining relatively arbitrary "morals" that are based, more or less, on deeply rooted biological wiring. "Why do cold fronts move?" "Why yes sweetie, come over here and look at this diagram..." I'm all over that one, but will probably be waiting a LONG time for it.

Weathertop is in a beautiful location and they also raise pastured rabbit so Elena and I checked out the latest crop of rabbits in their frames and I snapped a couple of shots of her out in the chill wind (42 degrees pre wind chill -- that's what Elena calls "brisky"!).



We haven't cracked into the pork yet, but the package of spare ribs is striking up a relationship with the bag of blackberries next to it in the freezer and I think that will turn out quite nicely.

Half a Birthday

I'm back. After almost exactly a year hiatus of blogging, I've been tempted back into the saddle by Erin's return to the "old country". With the main information channel incommunicado, it's up to those of us left behind to carry the load. Actually it's the construction of the first pigeon loft in over two years, with my able but vertically challenged assistant Elena, that provided the real impetus (I figured I had to come clean), but that is a story for another day.

Today, Nana calculated, was Elena's "half birthday". Being as Elena has recently been desirous of the coincident return of snow, Sinter Claus, Christmas, and her birthday, she wasn't going to let a "half birthday" slip by her. Particularly since there was the chance that half a birthday warranted half a cake.

It turns out that she was right, and Elena and Nana whipped up half a cake,



with a whole cake worth of frosting,



and we even managed to come up with 3.5 candles to lick.



The end result was one slightly older, and very happy camper!

Nana Version 3.0

About two months ago we learned that Elena's daycare was to be closed for 4 days the first week of November. The same week I was to be leaving for a return trip to Utrecht. We picked up the grandparent phone and Nana booked tickets to our rescue. So she arrived on Saturday and has been helping out ever since. Elena is pretty excited and makes my departure (so soon and to Utrecht) a little easier. She leave on Saturday.

We took her to a soccer game (we won 3-0) on Sunday. It was pretty 'brisky' as Elena likes to say.

Best Friends

There is a reason they are called best friends - because after years between seeing each other, it's like you never left. Jake wins parent of the year award for letting me fly out early to Denver GSA to spend two wonderful days with my best friend Jana. She took me hiking (ahhh, bliss we could go fast and climb steep slopes...elena barely makes it out of the parking lot these days!). The views were wonderful, and even better was that I was out there with a good friend.



Then we returned to Denver. This is where Jana's future hubbie (that's right, she's getting married!), Dan, lives. They took me out drinking the night before the meeting (in Jana's defense, she drove me at 8am to down town!).

Dan is a wonderful guy. It was really special to get to spend time hanging out with them. I'd post a picture, but I was learning to use my new camera and none do him justice (like he doesn't have a head in some of them.....)

The meeting went well, and I arrived home late on Halloween.

A new kind of bike ride

On Sunday Elena and I went for a Sunday bike ride (Jake is building pigeon coop version 3.2).

It was really nice (but made me also really sad for our long rides on Sunday in Utrecht, mostly just for Utrecht - or maybe it was for the flat topography...). The fall colors have started here and the trees were beautiful. Elena wanted a pictures of this tree on campus for you.

Here she displays the leaf she selected.


Then we road out the Huckleberry Trail - which is paved and if you replaced hills with windmills and quadupled the number of bikes we saw, it could have sort of been like the Netherlands.

We stopped for a snack (of course) and on the way home we went by the vet school fields and visited some horses. Elena has since put 'horse' on her Christmas list (which I've forbidden even though Jake is now lobby to get a family pony - he's always wanted a horse and is always looking for an excuse).

As for me, well, let's just say that after riding for 2 hours with 30 lb todder on your bike in the Netherlands you feel sort a nice exercised feeling, sort of refreshed. In Blacksburg your thighs burn like hell from getting up all the hills.