osheas::blog

butchart gardens

We spent a few days this past wek in Victoria, BC. Wow, what a great place! The weather was fabulous - although the weather predictions called for rain every day we were going to be there, we had one evening of rain and two and a half lovely days of cool temps and fluffy-white-cloud blue skies. My sister and brother-in-law met us up there, and they hadn’t been before, so we ended up cramming a lot into a few days.

First we took a limo from Victoria to Butchart Gardens, where we spent a couple of hours touring the gardens then had a yummy dinner on the veranda of the Dining Room restaurant. After dinner we took a float plane back to Victoria (oddly enough our pilot was the same guy we had the last time we visited Victoria & took our first ever float plane ride - small world!).

The next day we decided to try whale watching, so we signed up for a three hour Zodiac boat ride. We saw harbor deals, sea lions, a bald eagle and a family of Orcas. Yes, we actually SAW WHALES!! We thought we had had a real once in a lifetime experience when we saw the bald eagle but the next day as we were walking around we mentioned to a shop owner that we had seen the bald eagle and she said, “Oh out by such and such rock?” Turns out the eagle lives there and everybody sees him. *sigh* Pics here.

Who could ask for anything more, except maybe that Obama wins in November?

We are taking a week semi-off (we have our computers and cell phones with us) and going to visit family in Colorado. We drove out with a friend who was dead-heading a car to Aspen. We just spent two days in Aspen (awesome! who needs winter in Aspen when there’s summer in Aspen?) running and biking and staying at a wonderful B&B (they were great - we had new cameras shipped there and they had no problem signing for them & holding them for us) then took a bus to Glenwood Springs today where we have already had massages and a lovely dinner at the Hotel Colorado, which I have decided (this being my third trip)  is one of my favorite places on Earth.

Yesterday quite by accident we had the chance to go on a walk-through of a brand new 10 million dollar house in the foothills above downtown Aspen. Wow! I’ve never been inside a 10 million dollar house, but if this place was any example - whoa! Six bedrooms, seven and a half baths, two media rooms, three fireplaces, two master bedrooms (one was a guest master bedroom); the list of amazing stuff went on and on. We spent some time contemplating who among the people we know who we might coerce into joining us in investing in the ten million dollar house. In the end we decided to  look for something in the under ten million dollar range. So it goes.

Pics so far are here.

It was lots of fun and as cool as I thought it would be. The food was yummy and the atmosphere so pleasant AND you get an amazing view of Fantasmic.

Greetings! It was quite a weekend, this weekend just past. Actually, it was just a hell of a day. It started early with the 15th annual running of Chuck’s El Prieto Handicap. This was a downhill year, which means a good part of the course (a lot of which was single track trail) was, well, downhill. STEEP downhill. On trails that haven’t been maintained since the mid 1980’s. Given these facts, it may seem odd that I should have even attempted the course. But hey, if Chuck and all of his friends can do it so can I!! This is the second time I’ve run it downhill and this year I got cocky. I got to feeling like Daniel Day Lewis in the opening sequence of Last of the Mohicans when he’s running like his feet never touched the ground through a forest.

So there I was, running like my feet were never touching the ground when one of my feet, which were in fact touching the ground, tripped over a rock and I went SPLAT! on the trail. I slid along the trail and whacked another rock with my knee then slid on the same knee a ways down the trail and as always threw out my left hand to catch my fall. Not being a wimp (and being horribly embarrassed), I jumped up and said to nobody in particular (one or two runners stopped to see if I was okay), “I’m fine, it was nothing!” and kept going. The knee was throbbing some, and I knew I had scraped it, but figured I’d just ignore it - it didn’t hurt that badly. So there’s the kneecap.

Continuing along the trail, about a mile further along, I was again leaping like a gazelle through a particularly rocky patch, when my left foot stepped wrong and I felt my ankle go WAY over in a direction that didn’t seem good. It certainly didn’t feel good. I thought I was done at that point, and once again, a couple of people stopped to see how I was doing. Again I said, “It’s okay, I’ll walk it off. It’s not bad.” And sure enough, after walking about an eighth of a mile, I was able to slowly start working back to a run. The ankle felt okay, but the foot hurt like a son of a gun. Since nothing was swelling, I figured I was good to go. So there’s the ankle.

I made it to the end without falling again (yay, me!). When I got to the end, Chuck’s only comment was that I had dirt on my face. That’s how much he loves me (kidding, honey, kidding!). At the finish, we noted that my boss, her husband, and our good friend Carole, who were all hiking the course, hadn’t finished yet, so I went back up the trail with Mia to find them. They were at the start of the last portion of single track trail, all doing fine, just going slow and enjoying the day (smart plan!). They had their dog Mac with them. He’s a big love of a German Shepherd who is inordinately fond of water. So there we were, walking along the last bit of trail, when Mac sees a pool of water just off the trail on the other side of a bunch of boulders. Off he goes and throws himself in the water, happily paddling around. Then he tried to get out and couldn’t. Uh-oh. I should mention at this point that I had been running with my iPod nano in the back pocket of my running shorts. So when we saw that Mac was stuck, since my running shoes were already all wet from crossing the streams earlier in the course, I volunteered to get in and help Mac. Mia heroically jumped in with me, paddling around both of us and getting herself out (what a good dog she is!). We got Mac out safely after I was submerged almost to my shoulders and that was that. Until I went to get in the car later and remembered the iPod nano that had been in my back pocket. When I jumped in the water. Uh-oh. And in case you’re wondering, no they are NOT waterproof. So there’s the iPod.

When we got home, I showered and cleaned up my knee, and Chuck started cleaning up the yard in preparation for our traditional after-the-race party. After showering, I saw that he had the backyard in hand so I started cleaning up the house. When that was done, I moved on to prepping the food. It was a hamburger/chicken menu, so I started to cut up the tomatoes and onions. You can see where this is going, I bet. I made it through the tomatoes uneventfully and was more than halfway through the onions when WHACK! I missed and sliced into my ring finger. Deep enough that blood spurted. And kept spurting (thank goodness they were red onions!). I grabbed a paper towel and applied pressure. Then grabbed another paper towel. When I bled through that one, too, I decided to get Chuck’s opinion. He took one look and said that we had to go to the urgent care clinic. Argh! So with company coming, I spent an hour and a half at the urgent care clinic to see the doctor just long enough for him to say, “Dermabond, no stitches, and a tetanus shot.” So there’s the finger.

Other than all of that, it was a great day! Pics are here (no bloody ones).

We took this past weekend off (no work! only one computer!) and drove up to Solvang for the second annual Santa Barbara Wine Country Half Marathon, which is fast becoming a personal favorite of mine. That’s despite the utter lack of organization in the registration process and finish line. Last year we thought they needed to wok on a few things. Apparently at their debrief after last year’s race, they got together, reviewed what they did right and vowed to be sure NOT to do those things again this year. Example: last year, they had mile markers. This year there were none. You read that right. There wasn’t a SINGLE mile marker the entire way. At the mile 11 aid station somebody said that we had two miles to go - that was our first real indication of how far we had gone (that and we knew Los Olivos was near the halfway point). So it goes. It was still a great race - the weather was perfect, there was lots of water on the course (at least they got that right!), and at the finish all we had to do was turn right, go half a block and we were at the place we were staying, the Storybook Inn. It’s a really cute place built in 1993 to look old and quaint. It’s a bit pricey, but the rooms are very nice, they have free wireless, the breakfasts are lovely, and you’re in easy walking distance of downtown Solvang. We finished in 2:21, a much better time than we’d anticipated as we hadn’t trained as hard as we ought. Our friend Mary came in third in her age group, and our friend Dave came in first in his age group (I will keep their age groups to myself - but if you look at the Flickr photos or the website, you can figure them out pretty quickly).

After finishing the run, we showered, came back for the awards ceremony then headed out for lunch and some wine tasting. We hit Babcock and Melville on Saturday, and enjoyed them both. Dinner was at Bacchus in Solvang (yum! ow! $$). Sunday we drove along Foxen Canyon Road, ignoring all of the big name wineries and finally stopping at Foxen, who sent us on to Riverbench (thanks!). Foxen is grand, and well worth the drive. They’re sold out of their signature Pinot Noir, but we tasted and bought a really super Syrah. Riverbench is new but worth keeping an eye on. They were doing tappenade tastings as well - yum!! Their Pinot Noir was really good. We wound up the day at Alma Rosa which is a new winery owned by older winemakers: Richard Sanford sold his Sanford label, and is now making wine again under the Alma Rosa label (it’s organic!). They use screw top bottles (so it’s really easy to open!), and delicious! The tasting room is the old Sanford tasting room which was confusing to Chuck but also a trip down memory lane as he remembered tasting the old Sanford wines in the same tasting room.

Luckily we drove the Mini so our total purchases were limited to two cases. We’ve decided, given the scaled back purchasing of the past year, that our annual party this summer will be the Sorta Good Shit Wine Party, as we may need to supplement the good shit with some cheap shit.

Pics of the weekend are here.

Oh, I nearly forgot: on Saturday we were driving around and wine tasting with our friends Mary and Gerry. We were headed back to Solvang and as we drove by Ostrich Land, we all thought it would be interesting to stop. Once Gerry saw that he would have to pay FOUR WHOLE DOLLARS to see the ostriches he said, “Forget it!!” so we drove away without going inside.

The next day, having dumped their sorry asses (ha-ha! we love you guys, just a little dramatic effect here, really! ;-), as we drove back to Solvang Chuck and I passed Ostrich Land again, and this time we stopped! And Gerry, this video clip says it all about what you missed. Eat your heart out! The next time we say, “Hey, let’s stop and see the ostriches!” you may not be so quick to pooh-pooh the idea! If you have kids (or are a big kid) you can’t miss this place; it is too cool for school!

Wow, the last entry I wrote was over 10 days ago! We have been busy, but the real truth is I’ve been lazy and just haven’t made time to write.

So, to catch up I will recount our adventures in Colorado. We flew out on Feb 12, arriving late in the afternoon. The day we arrived the weather was chilly - in the upper 40’s. There was snow on the ground in Denver but most of it had melted and/or gotten dirty. Icky snow, in other words. We rented a car and drove to Chuck’s sister’s house. She and his brother-in-law were still at work, so we played with their Cairn Terrier Frasier in the backyard (where there was still a good deal of snow on the ground). I was running around playing, and slipped on the snow and fell down hard on my butt. For those keeping count, that was my first fall. We continued playing a bit, and I thought it would be fun to make a snow angel. So I fell back into the snow. Only it wasn’t exactly snow. It was about two inches of snow and then hard ground. Ow. That was my second fall.

The next day we went running in the morning (it was cold - in the thirties). I nearly fell once, but managed to stay upright. We did, however, become quite breathless very fast - the higher altitude took its toll on us quickly. We spent a very nice day driving around Boulder and Lyons CO thinking about them as potential eventual retirement locations, then bought Chuck a pair of ski boots (which is a process that makes buying regular shoes pale in comparison), and rented some skis for the ski trip. We wrapped up the day at the most awesome REI I have ever
seen (the downtown Denver store). It was huge - three stories! - and
stocked with tons of cold weather gear that we don’t see here in
California. We stocked up on some odds and ends for the ski trip, and
marveled at the rock climbing wall and all of the neat trails outside
the building for testing out bikes and shoes.

We spent Valentine’s Day sightseeing in Denver enjoying amazing weather (the high reached 70 degrees!) and spending some time at the Tattered Cover, a wonderful independent bookstore in downtown Denver. We all went out for dinner to one of Dina and Kenny’s favorite restaurants, Rioja. While there, Chuck started regaling them with the story of his marriage proposal to me (he’ll never let me forget that rather than say, “Yes!” I said, “Yes, eventually”) when he got to the part about asking me to marry him, he pulled out a little red box, opened it, and inside was a beautiful diamond engagement ring! I know, I know - it seems weird to get an engagement ring after being married for five years, right? But back five years ago was quite opposed to the idea of an engagement ring - I thought it was just folderol and generally foolish. I knew at the time that this attitude disappointed Chuck, but he went along with it (figuring, I suppose, that if he could get me to marry him that was triumph enough). fast forward to this past year, and as we approached our five year anniversary, I thought to myself that it might be time to get that engagement ring. I guess I’m getting sentimental or something, but it just (finally) seemed right. I still had my standards, of course: it couldn’t be too big or grand. So Chuck secretly had our friend Perri (who was responsible for our wedding rings) get to work on the engagement ring. And that was what was in the box he opened for me on Valentine’s Day. Needless to say, this time I said yes right away. And then burst into tears. It was pretty neat, that’s all I can say.

The next morning we were off to the mountains but before we left I took Frasier out for a walk - and slipped on the ice and fell - for the third time. My already bruised tush was pretty unhappy about this, as was my left wrist that was catching all of my various falls. Thank goodness, I thought, that I was just going to be snowshoeing and not skiing. If I was doing all of this falling just trying to walk, who knows what would happen if I put skis on!

We drove up to Frisco, CO to the Galena Street Mountain Inn. Our room wasn’t ready, so rather than hang around there we headed up to Copper Mountain for some serious snow time. While Chuck, Dina & Kenny went off skiing, I had my first day out on the trail snowshoeing. I lasted about an hour and a half, getting completely exhausted just hiking a flat trail & breathing. Phew! Altitude is a real pain! Day two of skiing was also at Copper Mountain, but I made it a lot longer - closer to three hours snowshoeing. Chuck was also feeling more in tune, and they went skiing on tougher slopes (that I happily didn’t hear about until they were all safely back in one piece - well, three pieces in this case).

Day three we spent at Beaver Creek, a ritzy ski resort next to Vail whose motto is “Not exactly roughing it.” No joke there - they have employees who give you hot chocolate when you get off the lifts and escalators that take you from the ticket booth area to the ski left areas. 3pm is chocolate chip cooking time - chefs walk around with big platters of warm cookies offering them to whoever wants one (or two, or three). This was also by far the coldest, snowiest day of our trip with temps when we started the day hovering around 1 degree. I was feeling pretty ambitious as this was my third day snowshoeing so while Chuck, Dina and Kenny went off to ski on slopes with names like Birds of Prey, I decided to take a ski lift up to McCoy Park, a special area set aside for nordic skiing and snowshoeing. We agreed to meet outside Starbucks at the bottom of the lift area around 3pm. Before proceeding with the story, I should say here that the thing I am worst at in skiing (not that I’m good at any of it) is the ski lift. I am, in a word, terrified of them. I see a ski lift and I pretty much start to fall over approaching it. There is something about the constant motion, I guess, that unnerves me. If it weren’t for ski lifts, in fact, I might be a pretty decent skier. But I figured in this case - hey, it’s not like I have any skis to deal with! How hard can it be to get on and off a ski lift in hiking boots? So I get on the lift with three off duty instructors. And they say, just step to the side when you get off the lift and you’ll be fine! So I do what they say, step on ice and go sliding down, landing hard on the side of my knees, with my right one taking the brunt of it. Completely embarrassed, I hopped right up as they started to come over, saying, “I’m okay, I’m okay!” My knee was throbbing like a son of a gun, but it got better as I walked, so I figured I’d proceed with my hike as planned. About two miles out however, it really started to bug me, so I headed back to the lift. And in the spirit of full disclosure, I thought I’d call Chuck and let him know I was heading back to the resort and was done snowshoeing for the day. I reached in my pocket(s) for my phone and found, for the first time in the whole trip, that I had left it back at the inn. Argh! I made it down the lift without falling again (yay me!) and went off in search of ibuprofen and a pay phone. Finding a pay phone, I called Chuck’s cell and left a message, stating that I had whacked my knee pretty good so was done with the strenuous portion of the day and would meet them at a restaurant at the bottom of the main lift at 3pm (this seemed a much warmer place than Starbucks - did I mention that the temps had fallen all day and it was snowing? Well they had and it was) and oh, yeah, I had forgotten my cell phone so don’t bother calling me back. I then spent the next couple of hours looking around shops, resting my knee and generally killing time. Chuck, meanwhile, is on a ski tour and heard only the first part of my message - the part where I said I had fallen and hurt my knee. So there I was at the restaurant, going in and out looking for him, and he was at the medical area and Starbucks looking for me. I found him first and he was in between angry and relieved to see me. Didn’t you get my message? I asked. Well only in part. He quit listening after the whole knee part, and missed completely the part about no cell phone. All was soon forgiven, and we headed back to Frisco for a hot tub soak and dinner.

Our last day was a snowshoe day. I was a little concerned that my knee wouldn’t be up to it, but I woke up to find it feeling fine. So we went hiking up Lily Pad Lake Trail outside Frisco, a four-mile round-trip trek that was absolutely beautiful. It was Chuck’s first time snowshoeing and aside from overdressing he had a blast.

We headed back to Denver that afternoon, and flew home the following morning. All in all, a really relaxing trip! We took a bunch of pictures, and a couple of movies. The first movie is of Frasier, the second one is about making tiny snowballs roll downhill.

We decided to spend Thanksgiving this year with my family on the east coast. We spent last Thanksgiving in Michigan with Chuck’s family so this seemed only fair. I think next year we’ll stay home. It’s exhausting traveling at this time of year! We left on Tuesday hoping to avoid the crowds and delays. I think our day went better than the poor folks who waited until Wednesday to travel. We were delayed out LAX an hour, then another half an hour at O’Hare in Chicago. Amazingly we made it to Pittsburgh almost on time. Even better, our luggage made it, too!

After the infamous surprise party and cleanup (Sprinkles cupcakes, it turns out, are called Sprinkles for a very good reason - we may be cleaning sprinkles off the floor and furniture for months to come), Chuck whisked me off for two days of sybaritic delight at the Ojai Valley Inn & Spa. This place is heaven, pure and simple. We had a suite with a private balcony and a view of the grounds. We had two massages (one for each day we were there), and I also got a facial. *sigh* The spa facilities were to die for, and included wet and dry saunas, an inside and outside jacuzzi, a full dressing area with complimentary everything - you name it, they had it!

We also went for a bike ride that illustrated the sad fact that we don’t ride them enough. Our sit bones were incredibly sore after only 15 miles. But the bike trail - wow! It goes from Ojai to Ventura (it’s pretty much downhill all the way to Venture - but then you have to turn around and ride uphill all the way back). We ate dinner one night at Maravilla, a crazy good, if expensive restaurant, and then ext night at the more casual Oak Cafe.

We contemplated taking up permanent residence, but decided that even if we sold everything we could probably only afford to live there for about a year before we ran out of money and they tossed us out onto the mean streets of Ojai.

All in all, it was a great birthday weekend!

I haven’t had a lot of birthday parties in my life. In fact, the only birthday party I had was when I was seven, and it was a surprise party thrown by my aunt for me (my mother was sick, and recovering from brain surgery at the time). It was a nightmare. I didn’t know a lot of the kids, and I hated being the center of attention. Basically, it instilled in me a deep dread of a) being the center of attention, and b) surprise parties.

Flash forward 40 years, and I find myself married to a man who likes nothing more than throwing parties. He likes planning parties, having people over - the whole nine yards of parties. One might call it my nightmare. Initially, it was really, really hard. I had to learn how to do small talk, and not want to crawl into a corner or under a rock until it was all over. Slowly but surely, though, over the years we’ve been together, darned if I’m not actually starting to enjoy parties. At least a little. Okay, sometimes even a lot.

So now we find ourselves at this past weekend - the weekend of my 50th birthday. As we had just gone to Europe in September, I put the kibosh on any expensive big deal celebration (like my friend Cheryl’s week long Cabo extravaganza for her 50th). I imagined it was going to be a quiet, contemplative day. It started out with a six-mile run, and then Chuck suggested brunch at the place around the corner. So far so good. After brunch, I noodled around on the computer and wrote a maudlin blog entry full of my deep thoughts about turning 50 while Chuck cleaned up poop and did some yard work. All typical Saturday activities (except for the maudlin blogging part). I got a few birthday phone calls from friends and family. We decided to go to a movie in the afternoon; Chuck was pushing The Bourne Supremacy, which I had no great desire to see. My choice was Into the Wild, Sean Penn’s movie version of Jon Krakauer’s fabulous book (and one of my all time favorites). With much reluctance (which I found annoying, given that it was my birthday and all), he gave in and we went to see Into the Wild. He had said we’d go out to dinner afterwards, but instead we headed home. It seemed an anticlimactic end to the day, but I thought, “Well, so it goes. A nice, unremarkable day.” I was waxing on about the movie, and about the quest to find yourself, and the romantic attraction of just leaving the world, and all of the people and hassles and drama of it, behind and reinventing yourself. While I was going on in this vein, my cell phone rang, and our friends Joan and martin serenaded me with Happy Birthday. I walked in the door still talking to them, and heard a dog bark. Not Mia, it was the high-pitched bark of Remy, our friend Kyra’s little poodle. In the time it took me to think “What’s Remy doing here?” as I was still focusing on my conversation with Joan and Martin, the lights came on and about 20 people jumped out of the dining room yelling, “Surprise!” Boy, was it ever! I simultaneously started crying, slugging Chuck, getting weak in the knees, and having a hot flash (I am 50, after all). Great deceit surrounded me: some of the people had talked to me earlier in the day, giving no hint of what lay in store for me. There was an awesome cupcake cake waiting for me, wonderfully tasteless cards, and a “mini pooper” made by our friend Bev, that had a built-in whoopee cushion (with remote!). It looked a lot like my Mini Max, actually, and could actually fit over a toilet seat, I think! There are few things in life that I love more than whoopee cushions, so this gift distracted me for some time. But Cheryl’s gift was the topper: she had a collage made of all of our trips around the world, and other pics of family, and friends – the chronicle of a friendship that has gone on for more than…well, a long time.

It was a wonderful evening, full of much laughter and warmth. I came away having learned a few things: a) I no longer mind being the center of attention, and b) I like surprise parties!

I think I like being 50!

We went down to San Diego this weekend to run the AFC (America’s Finest City) Half Marathon. We’ve run it before, but this year was special, in a couple of less than great ways.

First there was the traffic down there. Who knew that the entire population of California was going down to San Diego this past weeeknd, and that they were all taking Interstate 5? Jeez oh man, it took us over three hours to inch our way down to America’s Finest City, in what used to take about an hour and a half. Then there was the fact that at the last moment, they moved race packet pick-up away from the host hotel (where we had booked a room) to the Convention Center, four miles as the crow flies, but about half an hour as the traffic did NOT fly, from the host hotel. Grrrr. Okay, but we did get our packets, and did get checked in to the hotel (but didn’t get our room, as they had some huge group leave that day so they had late checkout so no rooms had been cleaned by 4:30 that afternoon). We had a very nice dinner at my friend Cheryl’s - that was the high point of the day by far, but when poor Cheryl tried to drive us back to the hotel, we found ourselves trapped in more horrible traffic as all of the roads from downtown to Haqrbor Island were closed or diverted for the race the following morning (and a bike ride that night called Midnight Madness). She lives about four miles from Harbor Island, but the drive took almost thirty minutes! Sheesh!

The second less than great thing was the weather on race day. We woke at 5:30am to skies that were already clearing - no marine layer for us! The good news was that we enjoyed a beautiful sunrise at Point Loma, where the race started. The bad news was that this was going to be a HOT day - and to add insult to injury, it was also humid (now folks on the East Coast may read that and laugh, but I’m telling you, when you live in So Cal and never experience humidity, it’s real ass-kicker when it DOES occur!). By the time the race started at 7am, the sun was shining and it was WARM. By mile one, both Chuck and I were sweating. By mile six, it was getting downright hot and some aid stations were running out of cups. I got a nice, juicy blister on my instep around mile eight from my sock rubbing that kept my mind nicely off the heat. Chuck had nothing to do but think about how hot he was. We must have consumed a liter or more of water at all of the aid stations, but probably lost that much and more in perspiration. We finished in 2:44 which wasn’t a great time, but according to my painintheassometer, we actually ran more like 20 miles, which makes our times much more impressive. Chuck didn’t stop sweating until he finally took a shower an hour or so after the race. We both were able to wring quantities of water out of our running shorts and tops for some time after we were done running, and small animals everywhere mistook us for large salt licks.

All in all, the jury is way, way out on whether we’ll run this race again. Heat, crowds, traffic. Blech!