We're not in Kansas anymore

I'm salty. But that's what happens when you run.

Twelve miles.

Owwww. The altitude and all of the stress/exhaustion of moving finally caught up with me yesterday, and other than the 5 mile run which was managed only with much bitching (in my head, don't worry, not out loud as I was by myself) and at 7:30 a.m. because that's when my lovely friend could run, I did absolutely nothing.

Nothing nothing nothing.

Well, that's not true. I made pillows.

And I roasted a pumpkin.

And I finished a hat I was supposed to have done by last Christmas and started on my second (of three that were promised last Christmas). Maybe they'll be done in time for this holiday season? One can hope. I still have a sweater I have to finish from three years ago. That's what happens when the initial thrill of "I can do this!" wears off and the craft projects that you used to whiz through take forever.

Though it's kind of fun sitting in my little cabin watching TV and knitting.

Oh, and I did laundry.

So yesterday, I stayed exhausted, did nearly nothing and was in bed and asleep by 9:45 p.m. and I even "slept in" this morning. Seeing as 6:30 a.m. has been my go-time all this week, and 7:45 a.m. this morning was when I finally pulled myself out of bed — that's sleeping in.

Today was all productivity. After making my coffee, and letting myself snuggle with my cereal and my coffee on the couch for one episode of "How I Met Your Mother" (my current staple, lent to us by a friend of boyfriend's family who lives in Bend), I was up and at 'em.

I folded the laundry I did yesterday. And no, in case you were wondering, I don't consider folding part of doing laundry. Mostly because I hate to fold laundry. Can you say, "Honey Do List"? I'd rather stack the cord of wood that's outside. But it was raining this morning, so I folded laundry instead.

Then I whipped up some pumpkin muffins from the pumpkin I roasted yesterday.

Unfortunately, the pumpkin wasn't particularly flavorful, so they're kind of wimpy muffins. And I needed to add more flour, because the pumpkin was a bit watery, so they're kind of flat. But nothing says "neighborly" like a plateful of fresh muffins, and nothing says "quick and easy breakfast" or "best girlfriend ever" like fresh muffins.

Pumpkin Muffins for your Tasting Pleasure
2 cups brown sugar
1 cup oil
4 beaten eggs
1 lb canned pumpkin (3 1/2 cups cooked pumpkin)
3 1/2 cups flour (1 cup whole wheat, 2 1/2 cups all-purpose,
unbleached flour)
2 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon allspice
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
2/3 cup water

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, mix together the brown sugar, oil, beaten eggs, and pumpkin. In a second bowl, mix together the dry ingredients. Alternate adding flour and water to the brown sugar, oil, beaten eggs, and pumpkin. Stir until just mixed. Place muffin batter in tins 2/3 full. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes.

Once I'd popped the first dozen in the oven, I busted out the vacuum to give our floor — which was rather dirty from all the moving — a good once over. My boyfriend has the best vacuum ever. It's got this head that goes in all directions (gets into tight corners easily!) and it's lightweight and easy to manhandle, and you don't have to use a bajillion different attachments for hardwood, carpet, etc. Just one. And it does it all!

I'd marry that man for his vacuum alone.

His mother thinks I'm kidding and thinks that statement is hilarious.

I'm not.

Though he does have many other wonderful attributes, so I'd marry him anyways. Regardless of his vacuum. It's just a perk. And don't tell him I talked to you about marriage.

Then I cleaned the bathroom, put another round of muffins in the oven, made up the bed in the guest room, and put the various odds and ends that don't have a home and can be stored in our attic storage. This is no small task for me as I am short (ish) and the ladder is really high up hard to reach. So I can get the attic door open, but I can't get the ladder down from the floor.

Not even when I stand on tip-toe.

Luckily, boyfriend has this cute little stool that he made when he was a cub scout that I've been toting around the house with me. Comes in handy when I'm trying to neatly put things on shelves, above cabinets, or get into the attic. It's so cute.

I finished up my muffin making, took some muffins over to my neighbors Linda and Lane (Lane built the house), and then had some lunch.

Then, lovely friend and I motivated to run our 12 miles for today.

It felt like I was at a higher altitude and that I took my rest day on Thursday and ran five miles on Friday instead. Oh wait, I am and I did.

It was hard.

It hurt. A lot.

But I found this nifty little 5.25 mile loop in Sunriver (we're just Southwest of Sunriver, which is the resort town south of Bend, between Bend and Mt. Bachelor). It's 1.75 miles from my house to the beginning of the loop, so I had to do an extra 3.25 miles in there, but it goes along the Deschutes River a ways on the prohibited-hunting side...oh, didn't I tell you? Yeah, it's hunting season...don't want to go more than 2 miles into the forest without a bright orange reflective vest or the hunters might think you're a deer. And shoot you.

So we don't do that.

Anyways.

It goes along the river and then it cuts over to the resort stables and past the little resort airport. Few to no houses out there, and it's this really pretty valley with lots of horses in the pastures dotted with fir trees and blue spruce. Then it travels back into the resort and loops around the lodge and through some confusing trails until I finally found the place where I turned around at 2.5 miles yesterday.

Really beautiful.

It'll be nice in the winter. I can drive to the starting point and just run around the resort, so that I'm off the road and within shouting distance of people in case something happens. Because it's just smart to be prepared.

So I did the loop, and then started the loop again to get my extra mileage, because I knew that if I had to run past my turnoff it wasn't going to happen. So I had just turned around (I went out and back 1.65 miles), when a group of four deer trotted across the path.

"Cute," I thought and kept running.

The deer paused to check me out, rather unperturbed by my presence and kept moving along the path ahead of me. It was two young ones just grown out of their spots, a doe and a buck. They disappeared around a corner and I thought nothing of it until I rounded the corner and practically ran into them.

The buck, in typical man-style, was answering the call of nature right next to the path and taking his time about it. The doe and little ones took off down the path at the sight of me, but the buck kept on doing his thing.

I nervously ran past him, coming within ten feet of him, and then kept on when he just looked at me. I ran on for a little bit, with maybe twenty or thirty feet between me and the doe and co. when I heard tap-tapping behind me, and I glanced back. There was the buck, trotting behind me.

Like, right behind me.

I wish I had had my camera. I had my phone, but it didn't occur to me at the time and I think he was as surprised as I was that we were so close. I sped up and he sped up. I slowed down, he slowed down. Finally, I stopped because he was making me nervous and I didn't know what else to do. At that point, to my relief, he took himself off into the underbrush to catch up with his family who had wandered off the path at that point.

Adventures with wildlife, I tell you what.

Between the deer and the chipmunk who really wanted to get in the house today (I looked up at one point and he had climbed halfway up our screen door and was chattering away), I'm a bit on wildlife overload.

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto.

Ciao,
kc

TODAY: 12 miles
YESTERDAY: 5 miles

I played you love songs, you'd say we're playing house, now you still say we are

First of all, there's something really great about naturally waking up around 6:30 a.m. It means that it's quarter to eight and I've already had my coffee, done some work, unpacked a bag, and watched Glee. And of course, decided to blog.

I wanted to write last night after my four mile run, but I got caught up in unpacking just one more bag, and then another, and then another — you understand.

It's my intention to go take better pictures (i.e. not with a cellphone) today, but here's a teaser.

This is a two minute walk from my house. It's the headwaters for Spring Creek or something, and it flows into the Deschutes. All you can see is this tiny trickle that comes from underground to fill this whole pond that then gushes into the creek (where I'm standing) with a torrent of water that is unbelievably beautiful and seemingly impossible.

Half a mile from my new house, literally down the road (the road turns into the trail), is the Deschutes National Forest that runs along the river. I ran my run yesterday down that trail and I could see the water through the trees.

Gorgeous.

You'd think with me being from the redwoods and all that I would be unimpressed by stumpy evergreens and high desert scenery, but I'm not. It's a different kind of beauty, and in some ways, it's all the more beautiful to me because I didn't grow up surrounded by it.

I will admit that to some extent, I take the redwoods for granted. I can't help it. They've surrounded me my whole life, and they're just trees. Really really really really big trees, but just trees. Here, it's different.

Less damp, certainly.

I don't know. The redwoods are beautiful, but somehow, the area here is more beautiful. Maybe because this place is a place I've chosen to be. I choose to be here. I'm not forced here by a job, or by birth, or anything. I'm here simply because I want to be.

Well, that and boyfriend's here. But it was my idea.

We just let him think it was his idea.

Ciao,
kc

P.S. Apparently, I suck at making fires in our wood stove. At 38 degrees this morning, I decided it was necessary. Less than an hour later the damned thing is out without ever really getting hot. Good thing I'm dating a boyscout...and we have electric heat.

YESTERDAY: 4 miles, 37 minutes

Our New Home

Oh my goodness, I'm here. I'm here and I'm mostly unpacked. And I have internet. And the house is finally quiet. The new house isn't quite big enough for four people to navigate around each other (and a myriad of boxes in varied states of unpacked) without tension running a little high. Especially considering the emotional state rendered by the stress of moving.

I had my first meltdown yesterday. Hopefully the first and last, as boyfriend and co. drove home today. Boyfriend is off to pick up his truck and his parents (co.) are headed back home and then off to the east coast.

The meltdown was incited by a phone call with our internet provider. A very nice, young-sounding man named Rob had informed me that our internet had not, in fact, been activated on Friday as it was supposed to be and no one was exactly sure why. I need internet by this afternoon for my telecommuting and was in a mild panic because of it.

I'm talking full-on squalling meltdown.

Luckily, his parents were out and about and only boyfriend was there to witness the mess. We've been together long enough that he's a veteran and a pro at handling such situations. He's good at soothing noises.

Surprisingly, the meltdown was not incited on Sunday when we got lost. Or when the truck ran out of gas on the side of the road after not seeing hide nor hair of a gas station for 200 miles. Or when it took us 9 hours instead of 6.5 to get here. Or when we realized that there was only one air mattress and his parents were using it and our mattresses were buried in the very back of the truck and we had to heave-to to unload the entire truck before darkness fell (it gets pretty black out here) in order to have something other than beautiful (hard) wood floors to sleep on.

The meltdown was also not incited on Monday when I woke up to a house full of boxes and no coffee. Or when we ran around and around and around town (20 minute drive away) picking up things, trying to find things, inevitably getting lost and most assuredly bickering.

Just the last straw. Oh well.

Did I mention the truck ran out of gas on the side of the road? Couldn't be helped. We didn't know that we wouldn't be seeing a gas station for that long, or we would have gotten gas in Grants Pass. Thankfully, we were caravan-ing and my boyfriend had the forethought to put a gas canister in the back of the truck, so I was able to take the canister to the nearest gas station (seven miles away) and return with enough gas to get us to the gas station to fill up.

In other news, ready for a tour of my new house? I thought so. Please excuse the mess.

This is my living room and my "office" alcove.

My office. I have a beautiful view of spruce trees and a bird feeder that already has little birdies visiting!

Our "reading corner" and breakfast bar.

Dining room and backdoor.

Kitchen

Fireplace is in the center of the main living area. The kitchen is to the left and the hallway at the right goes to the bedrooms and bathroom. Straight across from it is my office.

Another kitchen view. Carpet was $7 at a garage sale.

View out my front door. The building on the right is our detached garage.

More front yard.

The wall on the right is the outside corner of my office. The tree is right out my main office window.

Path to the garage and the garage.

Front of the house.

Another living area photo.

View of living room from "dining room"

Also, I've done my first cooking in the house. We had a family friend over for dinner last night and I whipped up a quick batch of pesto.

Fresh pesto!

Pesto is easy to make and delicious on anything.

To Make Pesto:
Using a blender or a food processor (I prefer the processor), put in a generous handful of fresh basil leaves, a tablespoon of pine nuts or walnuts (I use pine nuts), a couple cloves of garlic, salt and pepper to taste and olive oil. Run the blender or processor until pesto is fully processed.

It made the store-bought ravioli (nothing wrong with that) a little more interesting than simple marinara would have. Be careful though, if you use too much garlic it has a pretty good kick. I added too much garlic. It is however, really yummy that way.

Keeps the bugs away too.

In addition, if you have any extra, you can freeze it for later use. I usually use an ice tray and freeze it in cubes for easy use. One "cube" is perfect if you're cooking only a little bit for one, two to four "cubes" if you're serving more people.

I had my first Oregon run yesterday. I called my lovely friend before I left (it's our plan to run "together") and then again when I got back. Boyfriend accompanied me with his bike and a beer (classy at it's finest...sigh) and I ran up the road towards the mountain. We're on the road that goes up to Mt. Bachelor...it's actually a quicker drive to get to the mountain for us than it is for us to get to Bend itself.

I'm used to running at sea level, so I was slower than usual thanks to less oxygen, but I still managed to do the whole Fartlek workout. Go me!

All righty, that's enough for now. Further updates on my life coming soon, as well as those promised pumpkin recipes!

Ciao,
kc

YESTERDAY: 60 minute Fartlek
SATURDAY (10/2): 8.25 miles on trails

T minus Four

So, my week has been super super super busy as the countdown to moving day is now at 4 days. Thursday, Friday, Saturday, SUNDAY.

Panic now, please?

Mildly.

I had nightmares about moving day the other night, the whole night, which ended up with me giving up on sleep at about 6 a.m. The truck was only 17 inches long instead of 17 feet, the truck disappeared, the truck was too big, the truck was too small, our stuff was too heavy, you name it.

Argh.

I don't feel stressed, but explain that to my subconscious. She begs to differ. We're stressed. And overwhelmed. And just generally a bucket full of crazy.

Awesome.

I am excited though. Super duper excited. About moving. And living with boyfriend. Still stressed, though. And sad to be moving away from my lovely lovely lovely friend. :( Sad day.

So, really quick post just to update  y'all. I will post more about the tea party and food and fall favorites next week after I'm settled in Oregon! However, tonight, I'm off to laud the graces and wonders of Cal Poly for hopeful little high school students at the local College Night. I'm pretty excited about that too!

To summarize:
• I'm stressed AND excited about moving
• College Night tonight at Eureka High School, 6 to 9 p.m.
• Tea Party details to come
• And more pumpkin recipes coming up!

Ciao,
kc

TODAY (really early): 4 miles
YESTERDAY: 5.83 miles — we lived dangerously and took a short cut, but shhh! I can't tell you where!
MONDAY: Awesome girl-date with lovely friend...wine, sushi, and stupid/fun chick flick!
SUNDAY: 3 miles
SATURDAY: 10.25 miles in 1 hour, 50 minutes!

Happy Fall to all

First of all, Happy Fall! Fall means crisper air, chillier nights (can you say, snuggles?), and most of all...PUMPKIN!

My mother has always made the best pumpkin muffins, in the world. Along with delicious pumpkin pie and pumpkin soup.

My first year living in a house off campus in college, my roommate and I discovered how easy and cheap pumpkin pie is to make yourself once you've put out the intial money for the spices. Cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice will last you through hundreds of pies, so while they're $5 to $8 a jar, it ends up being mere cents per pie. We always followed the mantra, "When it's Libby's Libby's Libby's on the label label label, you will love it love it love it on your table table table..." and just used the filling recipe on the back of the Libby's canned pumpkin can (not the canned pumpkin pie mix, just regular pumpkin). Easy peasy, and if you're really lazy, put down the $2.50 for a frozen crust and you'll have pumpkin pie in a matter of minutes.

If you're really fancy, like me, you can roast your own pumpkin and puree the flesh for your very own pumpkin. You get the added benefit of having seeds to roast and pumpkin for days. It freezes easily and conveniently, and you can even freeze it in portion sizes for easy use. (Much like I do with pesto, but that's another blog)

To roast your own pumpkin:
Cut the top off the pumpkin, much like you would if you were going to carve it,* and then cut the pumpkin in half. It's easier to cut it in half once the top is off. Scrape out the "guts" and (if desired) collect the seeds in a bowl.

You won't use the guts for anything, so they can be tossed, composted, or whatever.

Place the pumpkin halves with the inside facing down on a baking sheet with sides, and fill baking sheet until just coated with water. In an oven preheated to about 400 degrees, bake the pumpkin until soft when stabbed with a fork — about 35 to 45 minutes. Remove from oven when done and wait for the pumpkin to cool. Be careful, it will be extremely hot.

When the pumpkin is cool, scrape flesh from the skin into a large mixing bowl. With a fork, pie dough cutter, or even a blender, mash the flesh until there are few to no remaining lumps. Now you have usable pumpkin! For reference, 1 lb. of pumpkin (16 oz) is the equivalent of 3.5 cups of home-cooked pumpkin.

* You can carve it first, but make sure you are planning on baking it the next day, as pumpkins rot pretty quickly once they're cut into. For instance, carve it on the day of Halloweenand bake it November 1st.

To roast the seeds:
Rinse all the goo and guts off of the seeds once you've scraped your pumpkin. The easiest way to do that is to put them in a strainer (mesh works best) after you've picked them out of the pumpkin guts, and toss them a bit with your fingers. Don't worry if you don't get all the "guts" out. It won't hurt you. Spread the rinsed seeds out on a baking sheet, preferably no more than one layer deep and let dry. They should be good enough in a couple hours, but I tend to leave them overnight.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees and toss the seeds with a little oil and whatever spices you'd like. Cinnamon and sugar make 'em sweet and candy-like, I prefer garlic, salt, and pepper for more of a popcorn taste. Try basil, nutmeg, brown sugar, Italian seasoning, chilli powder, or even a bit of soy sauce for different flavors. Put seasoned seeds in the oven and bake until toasted — 15 to 20 mintues. Keep an eye on them and if they start to look really brown, take them out.

The seeds should be slightly crunchy and slightly chewy when done. A yummy, healthy snack!

To come: pumpkin muffins!

WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE WAY TO EAT PUMPKIN?

Ciao,
kc

Shoes

I love shoes. Have I mentioned that I love shoes?

You might have noticed when I dedicated an entire post to these:

Or when I posted TWO photos of these:

I can't help myself. I love shoes. There are so many reasons to love shoes.

1. You can get perfectly good shoes, gently used, at thrift stores, garage sales, second-hand shops for very little money and not have that weird gross feeling that I get when buying clothes at those places. I still do it, but they require a couple washings first. Shoes don't require that.

2. Shoes always fit. Even if you gain weight. Even if you lose weight. Even if your boyfriend dumps you, they are still there for you.

3. They will never leave you. They won't be offended if you box them up and put them in the back of your closet for months at a time only to pull them out to wear them once and return them to the back again. They don't mind if you stop wearing them in lieu of a younger, sleeker model. They don't mind if you consider them frumpy, dumpy, sexy or smart.

4. You can never have "enough" shoes. It's not like cars or jeans or sweatshirts. There's always a drastically different pair to be had.

5. I'm sure there are more reasons, TELL ME SOME OF YOURS.

Basically, I love shoes.

Even these shoes:

These shoes support me even at 7 a.m. this morning, when the moon was still out in the lightening sky and while my body wasn't quite awake, my brain was courtesy of the espresso I had before hopping in the car to go rouse my lovely running buddy to go run 5 miles, 3 of which were fast, one of which was sub-9. They support me even then.

Coming soon: moving news, fall favorites (recipes and more!), tea party preparations, and lots more running and fashion.

Ciao,
kc

THIS MORNING: 5 miles, tempo
YESTERDAY: 4 miles

Use your words

In the spirit of applying the advice given by the Pioneer Woman in her post "Ten Important Things I've Learned About Blogging," I have been diligently posting often. Notice the lack of dropping off the face of the earth.

It helps that I'm moving away from this place that I grew up in and don't like being in on October 3. Less than two weeks away. There's a light at the end of the tunnel.

There is a God.

Today, we're going to talk about something that many people don't talk about very often, even though we use it every day. Language.

Language, like so many other things in this day and age, is tumbling downhill drastically. I mean, perhaps my vocabulary is more extensive than most due to my love for a good book, but I would argue that that is no excuse.

A child who is read aloud to by a parent has twice the vocabulary of its counterpart who has not been read to by age six. The disparity is significant as well, 2,500 words as compared to 5,000 words. You want your child to be able to read "See Spot Run"? Read to them.

"According to the 2003 National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP), 37 percent of fourth graders and 26 percent of eighth graders cannot read at the basic level; and on the 2002 NAEP 26 percent of twelfth graders cannot read at the basic level." (readfaster.com/education_stats.asp)

This among other things contributes to our quickly declining vernacular.

Those of us who are well-read and can read more quickly than the average, are often stunted by those who are not. Inevitably, we are forced to define ourselves.

My former roommate once commented that she often had to look up words I say because she was too embarrassed to ask again what a word means. Apparently, when I define words, I occasionally use equally obscure terms that she then has to go look up because she doesn't want me to explain myself again.

I don't think the phrases I use are particularly extravagant. My boyfriend does accuse me of using "three inch words" but in the time we've been together, he's grown used to it and has altered his stance from complaining to questioning. I am his very own personal dictionary. I get text messages and phone calls asking me to define this word or the other.

It's precious.

I love it.

I love him.

(We're Giants fans)

Luckily, I think that stance is adorable rather than tiresome. It challenges me to put to words that which I know on a deeper level. I don't usually know the exact meaning as I've more often than not gleaned the usage from the context of the text. A few I've learned over the course of my life and have been defined to me using the same rudimentary terms I use when speaking to him or others. The challenge is to define words that I can use in a sentence and get the context correct but have never seen a definition for. That challenge is a thrill for me, though sometimes it drives me to dictionary.com.

It has become more and more rare for me to have to go look up a word that I don't understand. It does still happen, however, but when it does I'm often surprised. The most recent — and only one I can recall with any surety — happened when I was reading Hope and Hard Times by Ted Bernard (I mention it in a previous blog) and I came across this word and for the life of me, could not figure it out. I thought at first that it was a typo, but the context didn't make sense.

"Posits: v. used with object: to lay down or assume as a fact or principle; postulate. n.: something that is posited; an assumption; postulate."

And now I have a new word with which to bewilder my audience. Hooray!

I suppose the thing that most discombobulates me about the state of our national vocabulary is the stubbornness with which people who should know better cling to misconceptions and incorrect assumptions.

When I was fifteen and a sophomore in high school, I had no less than three — and quite possibly as many as five — arguments with my English teacher about the legitimacy of "gooder."

Gooder — as I argued then and will more vehemently attest to now — is not in any way, shape, or form, a word. Good, better, best. Not good, gooder, goodest. The travesty was that the teacher presented the argument that I knew what he meant and therefore the correctness of the word didn't matter.

It made me want to scream.

I wish I could remember the title and author of the children's book that drilled that in to me at a young age (complete with beautiful illustrations of chicken and such), because then I would direct you to it. I also had a teacher in fifth grade who was a stickler for grammatical accuracy who made sure that was in my brain and that it stuck.

Say it with me now, "Good, better, best...NEVER good, gooder, goodest." Gooder and goodest — as my spell check is protesting with that angry red line beneath them — are not words. You can say them all you want, but that doesn't make them words. You will never win points in Scrabble with them.

Another anecdote which is more brief as it didn't happen to me, but rather to a friend of mine. This was with another English teacher — which says so much for their credentials — a couple years later. We may have been seniors. We had written papers and my friend, who I learned the "walking dictionary" portion of my personality from, had used the word "peruse" in her paper. Our teacher marked it as the incorrect spelling and usage of "pursue." It wasn't until my friend presented our teacher (privately of course, so as not to embarrass her) with a dictionary and the definition of peruse that the teacher capitulated and admitted she was wrong.

My last complaint is the gross usage of "funner." Even worse, "more funner" and "funnerest."

Want to see my face twist with disgust and hear me choke in protest? Use those words in my hearing and prevent me from correcting you.

I have a friend who uses those words out of sheer perversity because she likes to see me squirm. I know she does it on purpose, and my protests fall upon deaf ears. I've heard her speak to others and she uses the correct "more fun," only with me does she wield the ungainly and ugly "funner."

If I ever speak with you, and in some bumbling state of ebullience, I rush through a word or phrase that is unintelligible to you, please, stop me and have me define myself. I am more than happy to. In fact, I enjoy it. It's a challenge.

In the meantime, don't expect me to dumb down my vocabulary to fit with the local vernacular, because I just won't do it. I'd rather die an ignominious death than see more words be lost to the tomes of Webster and Merriam, never to see the light of day or an agile tongue.

Wow, that sounds almost dirty. Somehow, I think you'll get over it.