alright problem solved!

For years I have carried the heavy weight of having sandwich issues. "Hi, my name is Misty and I hate making sandwiches."  Let me start by saying I will never live up to my mom.  She used to make a plate piled in a tier system of all kinds of crust-less white bread sandwiches, tuna w/ pickle, tuna w/out pickle, peanut butter w/ jam, peanut butter w/ honey, butter & honey, butter & jam, ham w/ cheese, ham w/out cheese, bologna... a little kids version of mecca.  My grandfather, who I very few memories of, used to make me a peanut butter, honey, brown sugar, and banana sandwich!!! How many steps is that?!?! Years later I have learn he probably did it with the same pocket knife he cleaned his fingernails with. Hmmm...still too much work. 

Most of my life I have had the patience to make exactly 1/2 of a good sandwich before I get annoyed. But sandwiches are a necessary evil of the housewife.   

My X used to accused me of trying to hex him by the way I would wipe the pb&j knife across the opposite slice of bread in an 'x'.  In hindsight I was monogramming it.   And when the nearly-growns were little I invented the idea of lunch-ables. Until they could make their own sandwiches (or get my mom to do it for them) their lunches consisted of do-it-yourself-pb&j's and a plastic knife, which the school didn't mind Alexis holding but they discourage me sending anything sharp with Conner-Boy.  "Could you just make his sandwich at home?" "Yeah-no, but how about I send a popsicle stick with him, that's not pointy, it's blunted."

   

BC isn't any happier with my sandwich skills (minus the summer I mastered the french bread deli sub completely loaded with good stuff for going to the lake).  He doesn't mind the hexing habit, he thinks I skip on the juice, you know the jam and stuff.  Well, as the laundress I have a reason to be skinny with stain makers. 

But last night trying to get out the door for movie under the stars at the state capital (10 minutes after dinner ended) I slathered a pb&j sandwich for Hungry ("nice to meet you, Hungry, I'm mom.")and in a rush looked around for something to control the drip.  Ah-ha, coffee filter!  Brilliant, let's remember this for the next time I have to make one of those nasty little things.     

office politics, using your words

I have heard many things said about me.  I imagine many more possibilities that might be said which I wouldn't care to hear but this little half line and the half line to follow, the creation of (in e-mail form) ever so politely erupted out of 'newsroom' differences caught me a bit of guard.  Well, more than a bit, it stopped me cold in thought. Stated disagreement of policy/content, a few nice words for everyone, within a sort of good-bye and good luck and then "...and Misty has awesome tenacity.  I wish she would run for community council..."

Noun 1. tenacity- persistent determination. (doggedness, perseverance, persistence, pertinacity, tenaciousness, persistence, determination, purpose.
The quality of being determined to do or achieve something: firmness of purpose.

The strangeness of being pegged as tenacious is some what perplexing to me- me?  As I tried to figure it out I thought about what I knew of the man who sees me this way...I met him (a community activist, hard core environmentalist, & published author) for the first time on the Jordan River Parkway.  It was years ago.  I was running my dogs and I might be mistaken but I believe he was canoeing counting downed trees, or perhaps that day he was outside working in his garden, his house being on the river front.  Either way we began talking about our common mistress, the River, and parted with each others contact info.  Over the years we continued to meet in the places an environmentalist/activist and a woman who wanders outdoors a little too often to keep a clean house would tend to meet. 

The last time we meet was outside an elementary school in the peak of the dry heat of a June evening.  He on his bike appropriately dressed for a meeting and me in flip-flops, a little skirt, & t-shirt.  I had trudged west down the block of track housing to the river, walked the dirt path winding to the foot bridge and crossed into the neighborhood on the other side then continued walking the 4 or so blocks to the school for a 6 pm 'writers/newsroom meeting'.  The whole time flip-flopping down the streets my running shoes were in my bag just in case I suddenly became sensible enough to change shoes- I never did.

In that meeting he and I sat at opposite side of the same table.  There were strong forces at work in that little school library room; agenda's clearly posted.  Mine reads: To write and if that causes things to right, then great side effect but don't bag on my river and don't trip over the homeless or the chickens.  

I am stubborn, and I am thin skinned, I am an unbeliever, often diplomatic but just as often irreverent and inappropriate, and I have a very bad habit of gossiping.  It is not out of malice but because I like words, I love stories, and puzzles, and unsolved mysteries. I want to hear them and sort them.  To guess at what I can't possibly know but later find out I was right; to discover that I am not as blind or alone as I feel living with people.  Now I have tenacity too.  And after thinking about it I know why he would say that about me, (the idea of me running for community council only proves he must drink or holds a very large grudge against the council & is looking to dish out some pay back).  Firmness of purpose...it is the way I wear my love for that river with more often than what is respectable for a grown woman to have ankles caked with clay colored trail dust.

I will run beside her and love her until I die doing it.  And if one day she is less polluted and her banks more restored, when she can love us back because we have learned how to treat her then with a little peer review I can I drop all the unnecessary words from his sentence.  It would read "...and Misty has awesome tenacity.  I wish she would run for community council..." All our similarities aside, I have always respected his opinions.

Be blessed by the beauty of the rivers that bring us together but don't forget to respect the power of those which divide us.

this is why I always have laundry to do...

Apparently we live in the water...

These pic's were taken last week by Grandpa Don when he and BC took the kids to Antelope Island for some boogie-boarding in the Great Salt Lake.

Sort of looks windy doesn't it?

The Chester Van looks like it belongs to a Marine Biologist with a shitty work ethic & the clothesline looks like the yard sale of a surfing cult. 

It is a great life here in the dry-dry the desert~

the lake

Quiet vistas

New skills

New thing for mom to be worried about

Same old farmer's tan

(why-o-why won't it go away?!?! oh-yeah because I am a farmer)

Sand castles

Aquatic hitch hikers

Hi Crystal!

All sorts of free loaders loafing about in the water.

Wow, she is so styling :)

And finish.

Yep, the lake.

adventures in road kill

I would have to wonder at what point in BC and my courtship did we start calling out the names of the road kill along the highway as if they we were playing slug-bug "Deer." "Porcupine" "Skunk"

"Back the van up did you see that & was that what I thought it was?!" Yep, that is a cougar.

So we pile out on the side of I-80 and being a trained biologist I ask BC, "Is it really dead?" 

"Oh-yeah, it's dead."

He is used to this really stupid question from me. 

"But how do you know it's dead?" 

dust to dust

I spent most the morning debating whether or not this hike up the SL Overlook should happen or not. 

The issue was my nearly not there potassium levels. 

 I laid in bed slamming Gatorade going back & forth about it until I finally defaulted on

if in doubt, just do it.

I decided to go alone (no dogs) and take it slow not committing to reaching the top.

So I hiked through the smoke filtering in from a fire burning miles away.

Through fire light and ashes falling.

Along side flowers.

Through the trees.

Back and forth up a mountain.

*not entirely alone

I had a lot of time to think.

A lot of time to focus on one foot in front of the other.

And it wasn't as much fun as it used to be, me and this mountain...

And when I reached the top I wasn't happy to be there. 

I wasn't any happier than I was hiking up thinking about all the times I have hiked here, the people, the dogs, & the reasons.

Dear SL Overlook, You are beautiful but if I never hike you again I'd be okay with that. Love, Misty

falling backing to grace

So, I didn't mention this before but when we were hiking up to Death Creek Res. we stumbled into a strange little ravine. To get back to the trail we did some up hill bushwhacking.  A funny thing happened to me on the way to the top...I didn't quite make it. I was last to attempt to ascend the steep hillside. I was moving slowly because I was sure I was going to fall. I always think that and yet I always go anyway.  

But this time I placed the foot I thought wouldn't hold and sure enough the soft sandy soil let loose right under me.  I was so surprised when I felt my body start to pitch I didn't do anything to try to stop it. I allowed the free-fall backwards total say so in where I would end up. The fall was only about six feet and I landed on my back, hitting my head. I have an old skull fracture that doesn't love being landed on but the ground was soft. Still it was enough to knock the wind out of me.  

There I had a quiet moment alone laying in the dirt between a sharp rock to the right of me & a sharper rock to the left to think about what didn't & did just happened. 

My conclusion is this: I have spent so much of my life doubting myself that for better or worse I have quit paying attention to it. 

And that makes a whole lot of things clearer. Once upon a time I was a little girl who lived in a Wolf's Den and pretended I didn't. All these years later that same little girl is supposed to be trusted to tell me the difference between solid ground and sand bar. 

Learning to trust is a tricky matter but I think one of the most effective methods is the 'fall back method' where one person closes their eyes then falls back trusting the other person will catch them.  And I believe that was exactly what I just did...