Wedding Vows for Edwards

Believe it or not, Edwards had a selfie stick. He got it in an event SWAG bag. One night I grabbed it and forced him to use it. I can't believe he looks happy about it. I'm using this picture because... this is us... him always easy and happy, and me always a pest, like Iris. 

I’ve wanted to rewrite my wedding vows to you for many years. I need to alter them from how much I love how you make me feel, to what it is that I love about you. Obviously those things crossover and can be equally as wonderful, but I can’t believe I never helped you see yourself through my eyes. You have been a delight to discover and here are a few of my favorite surprises.  

Dogs love you. Superficially, this is cool and funny, but the fact that dogs love you isn’t superficial. It means something. When dog packs let a member be the alpha, it’s because they trust him. They recognize that this dog is the smartest, the most collected in an emergency, the most cunning, the most fair, the strongest, and the most concerned for the welfare of the pack. That is who you are. Watching dogs recognize you as the obvious alpha, taught me to draw strength from you as well.

I love how athletic you are. I love that you can play team sports without ego, and I love that you can go solo without fear. I love that wandering through life, you can be a bit “Clark Kent,” but when the pressure is on you become Superman. I also think it’s truly brilliant that you have played and experimented with sports and sports diets your whole life and turned it into a career. Selfishly, your athleticism gives you a smoking hot body that I admire every day.

You are thoughtful. There’s something about how direct you are that makes you seem like you wouldn’t be and yet, I come home and find immune support supplements when you know I’m suffering from a cold. When I ask for space while PMS runs it’s course, you give it to me but also buy a beautiful plant for our home. I say I want to go to Nepal and you plan the entire trip. Your friends would say the same things. I recall Phil’s tearful toast to you at our housewarming when we were first married… Phil knew you’d give him your last cent if he needed it. Really, you stretch far beyond thoughtful. You are selfless, you are generous, and you don’t keep score. Not a single day has gone by in our marriage when I don’t value this in you, try to mirror it, and remember to be grateful for it. 

You are an adventurer. No matter how much I snark and moan about the dirty, woody, weedy, steep, rocky, rainy terrain you have taken me over, these are my fondest memories. The rock walled field that lead down a steep, wet trail to an amazing spot on the coast of England where we climbed in hats and jumpers on rock that looked like poured wax… I wouldn’t trade that for anything.  The long day in Nepal when we ventured to Kala Patthar and then hours back down to the Nepali Clampetts’ guesthouse with the toilet full of frozen feces and the bucket "shower"… I’m glad to have taken my body to the max. Every visit to Moab, St. George, Red Rocks, Tahoe, or the Yellowstone basin… perfection.  This is what you promised me. You vowed to explore life with me and give me adventures. On this you have more than delivered. And while I know where you take me won’t be easy, it will be unforgettable.

We’re at eight years together. I’m lucky. You are better than me and I know it. Sometimes I abuse it, sometimes I remember to appreciate it, and sometimes I try to make sure you feel lucky too. I know I’ve never really settled into being the perfect wife. I let my alarm go off for an hour every morning… you never complain. I broke the stone vase your parents gave you when I was hula hooping in the house… you barely winced at me. I’ve pushed you away and pulled you back in. I’ve crashed around the house with my singing, my cleaning, my running from this to that… and you’ve always moved around me. I love that about you. You let people orbit you. You don’t make them land or learn to live in your atmosphere. What a gift you have given me… to be free when I want to be and wrapped in your arms when I need to be. 

After writing all this for you, my love, I’m going to make the same vow I made eight years ago. You are special. You are rare. I admire you. The most important thing I can vow to do is respect who you are.  To never ask you to change and to continue to fall more in love with you every day. Thank you for the adventures. Lick, Kiss, Bite. I love you, Romney. 

(For Valentine's Day, I dragged myself out of my flu bed and went to Huntsman Cancer Center against the "no sick people rules" and our better judgement. I needed to give him his gift. This year, I rewrote my vows to him. I intended these to kick-off the next phase of our marriage, the phase where he got better and our love deeper. He said it was the nicest thing anyone ever said about him, a tremendous admittance from an understated man. Since this blog started when we eloped, this is the place to put my update. I wanted him to know how cool I think he is, I was able to give him that. Now I want others to remember a handful of the things that made my husband incomparable. This list is in no way all-inclusive.)   

Birthday Challenge 2012

Edwards just completed his 2011 Challenge and it inspired me to get thinking about my own. I think the focus of a birthday challenge doesn't have to be physical, but should be something you know you need to work on. As I have obviously let my writing skills wane, I decided to do a writing challenge. Of course, Edwards thought I should do something physical too. Here's the whole of it.

1. 350 words or more every day for 35 days. I can write on any subject, in any genre, but they should be creative and they must be 350 words or more (no coping out with a daily haiku). I might create a separate blog for this and I promise to post anything appropriate, but I don't promise that everything I write will be "appropriate."

2. Pull-ups. I know I did them for Edwards' 50th birthday, but I've been lazy and it is a skill I like to have in top-notch form. 35 "pull-ups" a day for 35 days. Starting on January 11, 2012. The reason "pull-ups" is in quotes is because I'm going to have to do ALL kinds of pull-ups to keep from getting injured: assisted, jumping, kipping, traditional, different grips... the works... anything is on as long as it trains the movement. I must come out of the 35 days uninjured, but much improved, because the REAL challenge is 350 pull-ups in 3.5 hours - one day to spread it out and get it done. I REALLY don't know if I can do this. All of these have to be kipping pull-ups. OUCH!

3. Rollerskating. I need to get better at rollerskating and I need to hang-out with my friends. Saturday night is adult "Flashback" at Classic Skating in Sandy. The session is only two hours, but I'm thinking I'll get there while the kiddies are still allowed and capture 3.5 hours of skating before midnight. I'll rent a party room, bring vegan goodness, invite my friends, get dressed up all "Flashback" style and ROLL into my 35 year with as much youth and joy as possible. I'll probably get a few blisters too. 3.5 hours... YIKES!

I'm excited!

Birthday Challenge Year 34. COMPLETE!

WOW! After my husband's 50th - I realize that the difference between 34 and 50 is not so much... both are pretty big numbers. No wonder we never notice the age difference; it barely exists.

The Raw Food Challenge was excellent because it took tremendous focus and was a good distraction from life. I also learned new things about flavors and cooking and enzymes. My skin has never been cleaner, nor have I ever looked so lean. It was also a favorable way to transition to veganism. Mostly, it was excellent because 34 days becomes a way of life instead of a short-time torture. It is clear that I can still decide to do something and get it done.

Now, the raw diet itself. It is amazing what you get used to… and what you don’t.

I got used to cold food, cold soups, heat in dishes coming from hot peppers, weird textures, unsweet "cookies", the smell of dehydrating kale with nutritional yeast seasoning, being low on salt, green smoothies, and chopping and preparing food regularly. I really did.

I did not get used to eating at home all the time, having to explain the raw diet, being in the kitchen for 2-3 hours a day, and MOST PAINFULLY… I did not get used to living without my morning tea ritual. I really didn’t.

Also, 34 days of a weird diet is easier than 36, and those two make-up days SUCKED!

But, I did it. 34 Days of RAW FOOD ONLY for my 34th Birthday. (accomplished in 36 days).

Even though I protest… I’m sticking with green smoothies, ground nut butter with fresh berries mashed in (eaten with salted green apples), and dining out at Omar’s. I’ll probably even make some raw dishes during the heat of summer. YUM!

How will I celebrate the end of my challenge? With friends and yummy vegan cupcakes for lunch!

Vegan - Sometimes - Vegetarian - Always

When it comes to eating meat, Edwards and I have been “localvores” for a year and before that we had cut out fish due to mercury and over-fishing. Because of the articles and books we read, and documentary films we watch, already our diets are relatively healthy, informed, and restricted. Then, one day, Edwards handed me a copy of the PETA magazine and I had a further change of heart.

The magazine didn’t tell me anything I wasn’t already vaguely aware of, but it heightened my awareness and gave me a solution to the largest problem to ever arise in my life: What to do about the death of Miss Manners? You will need to refer to my previous post about her death to understand the gravity of the situation, and the gravity of not having a clear legal solution to the problem – actually – any solution to the problem.

PETA offered a solution. Become a VEGAN. Something grotesquely violent happened to a member of my family and the only way to end violence is to stop perpetuating it. For this, I can start with the obvious. I can remove myself from behaviors that lead to violence against animals, or remove myself from the industrial meat and dairy industries.

Just like my ignorant neighbor, who seems to have not understood that it would be WRONG to beat a dog the way he did, there are innocent people who can no longer tell that their jobs are violent. This is not only terrible for the farm animals, it is terrible for the people who work in these environments. We should be able to live and eat in a world where the difference between right and wrong is obvious.

My decision to be vegan doesn’t end this, but it distances me from it. Free from food violence, I will also be able to focus on ending the violence I commit against people through judgments, critiques, and rude comments.

For my new lifestyle, I am constructing my personal vegan’ness around an end to violence, not an end to the use of animal products. If I hear of a local farmer with happy, free-range, hormone -free chickens who love the farmer and lay eggs for the farmer… I will buy and consume those eggs. Also, I do not believe the local honey industry to be violent, and local bees, help support local agriculture, so I will continue to enjoy my local raw honey. Finally, I can visit the farm where the dairy cows are raised and milked for the Raw Milk that is sold locally at Real Foods Market. This will remain a treat. I don’t mind the dairy industry when it is clearly nonviolent. The things I will be inflexible on… animal death. I don’t need to eat meat. I don’t need to eat an animal once alive, now dead no matter how it was killed.

I guess this makes me an always vegetarian sometimes a vegan. Meaning, when I have all the information I need to make a decision on the violence of an animals’ life, I will just be vegetarian, but when I am unsure of the violence surrounding how an animal was raised and use, I will be vegan.

I hope this makes me a better person and I hope this helps heal my heart of things that Manners' death brought to the surface. I miss, Miss Manners and I hurt for all the violence that the human race and animal kingdom have to experience every day.

* The above trailer is for a positive movie on the food industry. One that I enjoyed very much and was extremely informative. I looked for some shock-and-awe videos, but I couldn't watch them and didn't want to subject my friends to them.

NRG Soup

The first time I made NRG Soup it was not bad. Good enough to make again.

Tonight... not so much. My poor husband. He is so patient with my cooking and is now comfortably situated on the couched eating raw mixed nuts, after my raw mixed bag of semi-fresh vegetables and fruit soup.

NRG Soup

"Water" - cucumbers and lemon (I should have just used WATER like I did the first time)
Tomatoes
Onion
Habanero
Ginger
Garlic
Nama Shoyu (I should have just used salt)
Mint
Red Bell Pepper
Apple
Orange Juice

All really delicious ingredients, incredibly raw, and it does give you tons of energy. That is, if you can get it down.

I don't know what went wrong tonight, but it was just disgusting. I had a Lara Bar and - as I said - Edwards had some nuts.

I am afraid of the kitchen.

Only TWO MORE DAYS of RAW HOME COOKING.

Raw Pain of Insomnia

"Do you feel amazing on your raw diet?"

This is a question I get from raw foodies and raw foodie wannabes with incredible frequency.

Do I feel AMAZING? Um, no... I feel ALERT.

Having lived on and off in a terrible fog of muddling comprehension since I was hit by a car at 17, alertness is no small thing. It is, in fact, amazing. I feel strongly that clarity of mind is not something people should take for granted. Having spent half of my life working myself to exhaustion just trying to drowned out the sounds of a fluorescent lights so I can hear the conversation around me, alertness is like gold. However, after 30 + days, all of this ALERTNESS is starting to severely impact my beauty rest.

SLEEP has been my one and only survival skill for post-head injury life and I have always considered it a special gift that I can sleep anywhere, anytime, anyhow. Now, at the end of a long day, I go to get my eight hours of blissful, near death sleep and I am locked out by absolute alertness and a clear mind.

This might be fantastic. I really might only need five hours of sleep with such a clean diet, but the truth is... I miss it. I miss being asleep. I miss going to bed at the same time as my husband, and I miss enjoying only a few passing moments before I am dead to the world.

Maybe, if I keep my diet 50-60% raw, but introduce back in some nice hot "dead" food, I will keep my alert mind when I need it and be able to pass out when I'm ready.

Well, 2 o'clock a.m. seems to be my "reasonable" bedtime lately, so I only have another 2.5 hours to kill... maybe I can count on the Jane Eyre TV mini-series to knock me out again... that only took until 2:30 last night.

Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday... WEDNESDAY = Food to help me sleep.

Silly Delicious Cooking Class

One thing I decided would be good to do during my raw challenge is attend a raw cooking class. This is a pretty big deal for me having never attended a cooking class in my life and even somehow "missing out on" Home Economics in high school. Sure it is the last week of my challenge, but still worth it and I might learn something.

I didn't know what to expect, so much so that I didn't even think of the basics... a raw cooking class = Hippies. THE WEIRDEST OF ALL HIPPIES. 15 minutes into the class I leaned over and said to Joanna (It's a girl thing. I had to bring a friend), "The hardest part of my challenge is going to be sitting through this class." She said, "No, shit" or rather she would have said, "No, shit" if she hadn't given up swearing for Lent, so she probably really said, "I know, right?"

The students were "sincere" and the teacher was an adorable disaster. Had she only been a disaster, we would have left, but watching her stumble and bumble was cute and endearing so we stayed. I didn't learn much new (certainly not how to hold a knife or chop vegetables competently) but we did walk away with two delicious raw recipes. One of which we tried out at an impromptu dinner party tonight.

Pasta with Mushroom "Cheese" Sauce

Part 1: Pasta
Zucchinis, Radishes, and Carrots all Julienned. Set on paper towels to dry

Part 2: Basic Cashew Cheese
Cashews and water blended until very smooth

Part 3: Mushroom Cheese Sauce
Mushrooms
Olive Oil
Nama Shoyu
Cashew Cheese
Lemon
Nutritional Yeast
Garlic
Salt

Then you toss all this together and you have a miracle of delicious "Mushroom Alfredo Sauce" with "Pasta". True, this dish would be better in the middle of summer, but after 30 days of raw anything at home that is this flavorful is the best of treats.

Also, since Joanna is a brilliant dessert maker, we embarked on our first raw dessert. Chocolate Mousse with Strawberries and Cashew Cream.

Part I: Chocolate Mousse
Cacao Powder (we ground up Raw Cacao nibs in Edwards' coffee grinder, shhhhh...)
Bananas
Avocado
Coconut Water
Agave

Part II: Strawberries
Enough said

Part III: Cashew Cream
We took the left over Cashew Cheese and added Agave. YUM!

This was another miracle. A three layer dessert miracle. It looked almost exactly like this picture and tasted as good as you imagine.

Edwards said when I embarked on my raw challenge that some girls don't loose weight when they go raw because they eat too many nuts. Well, um, GUILTY! I consumed about 3 lbs of creamed cashews tonight and loved every second of it. Plus, I got to entertain friends over an amazing dinner, which is always the most gratifying part of life.

KIDS: TRY THIS AT HOME!

Oh and... I made the dessert again the next day in honor of Edwards'return home... the picture doesn't do it justice and you can't see the chocolate, but YUM!

A Rose by Any Other Name

Ah, to be 29 again! If I were, I would be complete of my raw food challenge. Fortunately, I have only seven more full days.

It occurred to me this evening that I should have been documenting the recipes I've tried and the "adventures" I've had. Unfortunately, it has been difficult to feel inspired to write about my challenge as I'm not sure how interesting it is. However, last night and tonight I dined on something "interesting" and worth writing about.

Mashed Potatoes and Gravy

Part I: Mashed Potatoes
Cauliflower
Cashews
Lemon Juice
Thyme
Salt
BLENDED TO SMOOTH

Part II: Gravy
Miso
Red Wine
Onion
Shallot
Orange Juice
Olive Oil
Maple Syrup
Jalapeno
Nama Shoyu
Ginger
Apple Cider Vinegar
Sesame Seed Oil
Blended to Brown Sauce

What was going through my brain when I decided THIS is what I wanted for dinner? I can't really say, but if you'd been RAW for 28 days you just might also have an incredible, insatiable desire for ANYTHING named Mashed Potatoes and Gravy.

The biggest problem with this recipe (yes, besides maple syrup, nama shoyu, and jalapeno together) is the name. I think I'll stop gagging on it if I can figure out a new name for it. In theory, the flavors are not bad (and it is INCREDIBLE to have SO MUCH FLAVOR IN A RAW DISH) but if your brain is thinking "Mashed Potatoes and Gravy" it will never, ever never reconcile to the light'ish green/white moosh with brown liquid on top that you have in a bowl before you.

So - if anyone outside of myself ever read my blog - I would issue a NAME THAT DISH challenge. Then I would write the hippie author of this cookbook and demand that it be changed. Because let me tell you... a rose by any other name - rather, in any other shape - does NOT smell as sweet.

The Good News

This raw diet isn't so bad. In fact, I think it is causing me to feel "normal" again. People ask if I feel any different, but I always say, "not really". However, I give that answer automatically compared to the me I was before Beata died. I really don't feel much different from the girl with her whole family. The truth is though, I can't compare to that girl because she has been missing for months.

I actually feel quite different from the me I was when I started the challenge 12 days ago. 12 days ago I was a disaster, missing and hurting for my family every minute of every day. Today, I am more at ease. It may have started with the distraction of learning something new (and all the dang food prep required for this diet), but now it might be healthy belly = healthy heart. I still miss Beata, Tuco, and Miss Manners, but it is beginning to be a warmer, softer, more loving feeling than the constant, crushing pain I had two weeks ago.

This is no small change. This is huge. I feel HUGELY different.

I think I've got to go one more step though. I've got to cut out wine and champagne. Not because I don't believe they are RAW, but because I get too drunk, too fast on this diet. I simply can't spend another night passed out in The John. That's right. I'm 34 years old and I just admitted to something shamefully undergraduate. Oh well, thanks to good company and wonderful friends it was totally worth it!

The challenge is hard. I miss hot food. I miss tea. I miss Indian food and Mexican food. I miss Cake Lunch. I miss going to restaurants. I miss interest in my food. I miss lots of wonderful things, but I am loving the cleanse. I have a lot of bad things to get rid of. Let's see how I do in the next 23 days!

Raw Challenge to Vegan Life

I had planned a really hard cross-country/skate ski challenge for my 34th year, but life lost a little forward momentum due to recent events and so did my training program. BUT... I needed a challenge. Maybe something more cerebral and beneficial for my life? Yes! I've got it!

34 Day Raw Food Diet.

The rules:
1. Duh, only raw food.
2. Raw "sweets" no more than twice a week
3. No caffeine. Bonus points for this one.

Starting on my birthday (NO CAKE?) February 15, 2011 and ending March 22, 2011.
I've added one day due to prior dinner arrangements with a friend moving to France.

I'm four days in and, well, I am dehydrated! Explain that? Everything I eat has tons of water, plus I drink a jug and half of water each day, but I'm walking around with pruned fingers and parched lips. Too weird. Other than that... It's not so bad. I just do not let myself get hungry. I eat ALL DAY! (hip, hip, hurray!) Sure, it is strawberries, dried mangoes, peanut butter, celery, snap peas, carrots, trail mix, and weird vitamix concoctions, but the intake is constant so I haven't gone bonkers with cravings yet.

In amazing solidarity, Edwards is participating partially in my challenge. He is on a whole foods diet for 34 days. Whole vs Raw allows him to use that amazing little invention called, FIRE. He can cook his foods. I never thought I'd be so jealous watching someone eat quinoa! How does he feel right now? Tired, cause he can't sleep. Diet transitions can be weird.

Of course, this means I missed Cake Lunch all week and now my dear friend is getting married and moving to VERNAL, UT! OK, nope, but she was made this offer and I wasn't even around to confer with! Fortunately, my friends are smart and will live without me while I'm in raw food isolation.

I'll try and keep the blog updated with how I feel. I certainly don't feel any better yet, but maybe I will. I'll also explain why, at the end of the 34 days, I'm not going back to being a "localtarian". I'm going to be vegan.

I guess if I'm gonna eat like a hippie, I'll have to include more yoga in the diet as well.

Dear Neighbor

This is the note I want to post in my neighborhood, but I don't think I can manage something even this simple. It seems less silent than you must be to manage a crisis of this kind.

Dear Neighbor Who Bludgeoned My Dog With An Ax:

The next time you see an animal in your unfenced backyard, enjoying the pay dirt of your illegally ranging chickens, please run out of your house with a broom instead of an ax.

You have broken my heart, my family, and my faith in humanity.

Sincerely,

Your neighbor

Our beautiful, joyous, mischievous, escape-artist husky rescue, Miss Maya Manners chose to go exploring in the neighborhood last week. We tried to round her up, but she refused. Shortly thereafter she found and killed a chicken in an unfenced backyard, ranging behind a knee-high plastic fence. The "Man of the House" ran out and beat her with an ax. AN AX. Intuitively we do not believe his story, our vet who had to see her and put her down doesn't believe his story, and Animal Control does not believe his story. However, she was at-large and "he felt threatened" by a beautiful, 36lb furball who ran hastily away from any confrontation. There is nothing anyone can do.

PS, Neighbor: The blows you struck indicate that you were holding her and she was crouched in a fearful, submissive position. You let her sit in your backyard brain damaged, crippled, and bleeding for an hour as you waited for animal control to respond. I would be very sorry that she killed your chicken if you had not already taken your own grotesque retribution.

I am not sorry. I am deeply sorrowful and deeply mad. I talk about shielding myself with gratitude (thank you for calling Animal Control), but it is only enough to keep me functioning, barely.

Maya Manners was a joyful and loving distraction from the void that Beata and Tuco left. Now the void is deeper, darker, and more painful. I throw my remaining love and attention to Finnegan. He is a wonderful, happy, eager dog. I am thankful for him.

In sorrow,

Lisa

Tuco Benedicto Pacifico Juan Maria Ramirez otherwise known as, The Rat. 16 of the most solid years ever lived and sad only for the ones he left behind

I met Steve Edwards an evening at the Greek Festival and despite asking him to walk me home I thought, "that guy is intense."

Then I started running into Steve Edwards at the coffee shop and he thought, "is she really going on about comic books?" and his bewilderment showed in his lack of warmth.

Then one day... "who's this?" and in his nonchalant, decisive way Edwards motioned by pointing his finger, "that's Ratso."

Nonchalant and decisive was the Edwards I knew, but the Edwards with this beautiful, fluffy, devoted, well-behaved dog... that is a man with a soft heart I had not yet met, but was extremely interested in.

As Edwards and I texted back and forth like middle-schoolers, many of his text were telling me about Ratso's eccentric behaviors. "The Rat is sitting in the car with the door open. He wants to go somewhere." "The Rat is barking at me and biting my hand, he wants to do stuff." "Well, The Rat and I went climbing today" (as if The Rat were his belay).
I married him and inherited Ratso who ultimately took to me. How does one know when Ratso "takes to them"? He let me touch his paws. :)

When we got married, Ratso was our family at home... the only one who had any inkling of what we were up to. Then we added Beata and I was so grateful for the example The Rat set for "not wanting any trouble", being "picky about food", walking off-leash, and manipulating situations. With his guidance, Beata started acting perfect and we had the makings of what anyone would call, a family.


We had almost 3 wonderful years together. Ratso survived a doggy stoke and some arthritis, but otherwise just got to grow very, very old. It was clear that life was no longer what it should be for a dog and his punishment for years of fitness... despite a real desire and willingness... was that his body just wouldn't crap out.

In the end, we had to help him along but we know he was ready. I take comfort in knowing that Beata is waiting for him, eager for him to introduce her to all his old friends. In this past terrible month the tragedy is that Beata's life was cut so short and Tuco's life went on so long. There is just no winning with death.

I read a quote that talked about how having your dog die and not adopting another is like saying the bad outweighs the good. Our family was pure joy and I am so grateful that Manners and Finn are here to remind us of all the good. A home without Ratso would be no home at all... unless Manners is here to act equally as cold and annoyed and Finnegan is here to be equally as energetic. Love doesn't dead-end.

R.I.P: Tuco, The Rat. You are missed by all.

Sleeping Beauty

When I first saw Beata she was waiting in the car with Tori. I didn’t know which of the two dogs she was, but I hoped that my dog-to-be was the brown one with the perfect little brown eyes, little brown ears, and white striped nose. Cara said, “which dogs is cuter… be careful…” and then didn’t make me actually tell before introducing me to Beata: The little brown dog.

It was just supposed to be an overnight visit to see how we got along, but once she chewed up my Harvard graduation flips-flops there was no going back.

She was a little angel of a puppy. We jumped feet first into training and mastered sit, down, off, stay, and heal without any hitches (and in two different languages). “Come” was another story, but all I ever really had to do was turn my back and yell “Bye-bye” for her to come sprinting over, with a smile on her face, excited about wherever we’d be going to next. Devoted but independent; Attentive but ADD. My little Beata.

For years, Beata put up with my long hours in the Mayor’s Office, even walking in with me on weekends for another boring day in the office. She got time in the wilds during the week thanks to her dog walker, Russin, and when we weren’t urban hiking to the office… we were playing together in the mountains. She was a funny little thing. She got out of her collar once and got to explore the Wild Oats on 4th South, she was always a good girl and never tried to eat Rocky’s parrot, Cardozo, and she kept intruders away from the house with her terrifying, bloodthirsty bark. She had a nice life. She was my constant, most patient, and most loving companion.

She also had her pack at Cara’s house. Tori, Copper, and Drizzit. Her best friends: two pit-mixes and a great dane, a formidable bunch. They grew up together. Drizzit, the Great Dane has recently passed, Copper and Tori are still with us. If ever I wanted to get her excited all I had to do was say, “Copper. Tori. Drizzit?” Sweet little girl would perk up and stare, shaking in excitement at the prospect of playing with her friends.

I have to admit to asking Cara to readopt her while I tried to make the worst relationship of my life work. The only good thing that came of this… ending the relationship and getting her back. This time, Steve Edwards was her gift for coming home.

Beata took to Steve like most girls take to tall, dark, handsome men. She became his groupie. She still liked me, but she absolutely adored him. His working from home allowed her to do nothing but stare at him all day. And she did. The cutest little Steve Edwards fan in the whole world!

The last two and a half years her life, that started out abused and abandoned, had become pure perfection. She had a loving boyfriend in Tuco. She got to play outside in the mountains or on the trails every day; she was an awesome, awesome rock climbing “crag dog”; was a bundle of irreplaceable joy; and made up the fabric of our family. We became the 3 generations of Romney-Edwards. Grandpa, Mom and Dad, and little girl flirt. She never wanted any trouble, only to play, sniff-stuff, be chased, chase gophers, and be with her family. While her love and concern for me was overshadowed by her love for Edwards, she was always, always happiest when the whole family was together.

Now, our family is minus one and I cannot believe she is gone. After a year of different vets misdiagnosing her with arthritis, we did our research and found out she had a torn ACL. We went to a veterinarian on a recommendation, looked up his credentials, met him, liked him, and committed to surgery. Unfortunately, he sent us home with a medicine that turned out to be nothing more than pure poison. He never said a word about the dangers. We were foolish enough not to research them ourselves. Previcox. "Just an anti-inflammatory". Never, ever give this to your pets. http://www.k911.biz/Petsafety/DeathByPrevicox_RowdysLastVacation.htm

For the past 9 years Beata has been my friend, family, and love. She has never judged me for my choices in food, films, music or men; or even been mad when I tell her not to bury her bones in the garden (because she always did it anyway). She never wanted anything more than to be loved and not abandoned. She was the cutest, sweetest, most loving little dog. My heart aches that I will never see her wag her body at me again, or get to cuddle on the couch with her while Edwards is on business trips. Edwards and I lost a vital member of our family last night, and Tuco lost his “girlfriend”. Every day she brought him energy and life.

I probably won’t stop talking to her for a very long time. And how will I deliver sour opinions of my husband's hygiene if she isn’t there to pass on the word? I plan to cry for days, and weeks, and years. I feel robbed. Tori feels robbed. Copper feels robbed. Cara feels robbed. Tuco feels robbed. And Edwards is the most robbed of all. She was our joyous, bizarre, beautiful little brown dog. I love her so much. I will always have a hole in my heart where Beata should be.

RIP: Princess Beata.

(more pictures to come. Top: A picture from the last evening we spent cuddled up on the couch together.)

The Experience of Heritage and Place in Sicily

Part I: Genetic Markers

Cathedral in Notto, Sicily

While being 100% Ethnic Mutt, there are a few pure origins in me. The first is cultural, my paternal grandparents are from Mexico; the next is ethnic, my maternal grandmother was full-blood Northern Italian. What I found in Sicily is that an impressive number of my natural tendencies seem to match closely with the Italian Genetic Code.
Piazza Duomo for Breakfast

First, and always first-thing, BREAKFAST. Most people consider it a bad and unhealthy habit of mine that breakfast consists of tea and brioche. Well, the Italians don’t and this traditional breakfast is the first manifestation of my Italian heritage. The best part of my vacation days was always at the café on the Piazza Duomo having tea and a croissant with the my Italian brothers and sisters.

While on the topic of ingestible items, my tastes seemed to match perfectly with Giusi’s. She determined early on that I always made the correct dining choice and left it to me to pick restaurants and sometimes even what she ordered. Fortunately, Giusi and I were soul sisters, with our tastes and humors closely aligned. It was a lot of pressure, but having the trust of Giusi in food selection was an honor I wouldn’t have deserved without my grandma’s Italian blood. Dinner with Giusi, Normal Guy, Phil and Lena (taking the picture).

I think this one was obvious before I left for Sicily, and I’ve always just chalked it up to being a girl, but I love shoes. So do the Italians. Memories for the rest of my life will pale in comparison to the shoe shopping treatment I received as Giusi’s shop, Millepiedi, where I sat in the middle of a hundred pairs of shoes trying to find that one pair that would work for the London pub crawl and a few extras just for fun. Not only do we Italians love shoes, but also we love the process of “discovering” them. Edwards' Italian shoes from Millepiedi

The final, but most fun, genetic match I discovered was a mutual love of the opposite sex. It is no secret that I love men. Love, love, love men! It was clear in Sicily that men love women, women love men, and there is absolutely NO SHAME in behaving as such. Compliments, attention, and eye-candy abound in this pheromone-enhanced culture. Any time I was without Edwards, I got to taste the charm that is Italian men and while I’m not sure exactly what the cute, blonde Sicilian was saying as he gave me a private tour of the Duomo, I did understand that he felt I was as beautiful as the Duomo itself. Ahhhh, I love being Italian! My favorite male specimen!

As a nod to Edwards (as this was meant to be “our” blog), the kind of rock and type of climbing available in Sicily also seems to match our preferences. If we were rich people, we’d be there now, restoring an old farmhouse, harvesting olives from mature trees, and climbing in a spectacular cave with undiscovered artifacts of the Byzantine known only to those strong enough to make it up the routes. Italy has no shortage of climbing to suit our physical needs and our lifestyle goals. Now, all we need is a mastery of the language and we’ll fit right in! Normal Guy on a very hard route in a very nice cave.

Tuco's Dramatic Role

Tuco has more friends around the globe than any dog before him, and he keeps seasonal residence with two families who love him very much in Salt Lake City and Santa Barbara. He turned 15 this month and is the picture of health, as Edwards detailed in a recent blog.

Tuco's got his own ideas on things and almost all of his actions are premeditated. Last night, he must have been after the Oscar for Best Dramatic Role.

Around a lot of details, I had to leave Tuco at home while I took Beata and Copper on a hike last night. When we left, he settled onto the kitchen floor. No biggie. When we got home 1.5 hours later, he had moved in the kitchen, left one small turd in his wake (not abnormal these days), and was still just hanging out. I put his food in front of him and he wasn't super stoked to eat, but he didn't seem anything outside of normal. Halfway through my movie I decided to go say hi to him. Oh no! The Rat was splayed out and his underbelly was drenched in, well, not sweat. Poor guy was panting and unable to support his weight to move or even get his legs under him. Well, I'm not a real reactionary, but with Edwards gone for just over 24 hours, Tuco was not giving up the ghost on my watch.

Kindly, our neighbors helped me get our stinky dog in the car. Everything at emergency care went as expected, which is to say, there isn't anything wrong with Tuco. He stayed the night so they could monitor his heart, which is 15% weaker than it should be, but here's the thing: "He doesn't want food." (ah, yeah, if you aren't frying up some fresh bacon, he probably isn't interested) and "He has gotten snappy" (EXCELLENT. Back to normal.)

When I picked him up today he was alert, walking, and happy to be heading home. He had also run up quite a tab! Oh well, like I said, he's not giving up the ghost on my watch!

He is weaker than normal and I'll continue to keep a close eye on him, but my feeling now is that this whole "I'm having a heart-attack" thing had less to do with reality and more to do with a big fat pout about Steve Edwards going on an adventure without him. (That's right honey, he knows what you are doing in Mexico and he doesn't like it!)

For everyone who knows and loves Tuco, he's OK. However, if you are in the area please make sure you come by and wish him a happy 15th year. At 105 human years, I'm not sure how many more chances you'll have.

Birthday Challenged

My anxieties were growing Friday night when I picked up my packet for the Moab Red Hot 33k. The room was buzzing with all kinds of “we love running” and “we love running together” energy. I felt lonely, but gave myself a cheesy little reminder to relax and focus on the fact that the challenge will be meaningless if I don’t learn more than I already know.

WHAT I ALREADY KNOW: I know that I can somehow finish a 33k. I know that I’m so good at judging myself that I can suck the joy right out of any experience.

WHAT I DON’T ALREADY KNOW: I don’t know if I can run 33k in less than six hours. I don’t know if I can quiet my self-judging little mind enough to enjoy it.


Off to a rocky start at the condo, my Birthday Challenge morning started out with a lot of fear and frowning. At the starting line, everything changed. Everyone was so… nice. Edwards, of course, knew people in the field and they immediately invited me to run with them. This little group split up within the first mile but their support got me off-and-running.

Next, there was a girl from Colorado whom I paced nicely with until the first aid station. It would be the furthest she had ever run as well and it felt good to have some company in the experience.After the first aid station we separated and I trotted on ahead.

After running alone for a little, I found another girl – not chatty – whom I would begin a game of “leap-frog” with. Looking back I guess I would have passed her and stayed ahead the whole race if she hadn’t gained advantage twice when I a. got off course and b. hit the deck when my right foot slipped in an icy little divot. I didn’t realize it because she’d taken her jacket off, but I passed her on the way to the finish line. She was walking. I hope she wasn’t injured and I do appreciate that she always gave me someone to chase after.

From mile 8-12 there was George. George runs with two walking poles and I was very envious (just imagine the pressure I could take off my hips if I had my own walking sticks)! George was super nice and tagged along behind me encouragingly for quite awhile. I thought maybe he was just going my pace, but then I saw a picture of my backside, which I believe explains his company a little better. With so much inspiring scenery, I'm flattered to have had George right behind me.

When Edwards met me at the halfway mark it was a curse and a blessing. First, the curse. When my man showed up something in me got all “girlie.” My man had arrived! How had I survived without him? How was I going to survive without him carrying me? No matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t help the emotional shift that happened when Husband got there. Mostly though, it was a blessing. He scouted the course, found easier routes, let me know the last aid station was a lot further than it was supposed to be, gave me water, talked to me, encouraged me, popped Cliff Blocks right into my mouth, and took pictures. He was just fantastic.

The elevation map they published pre-race was a bit of a sandbag. The steep uphill part was correct, but the steep downhill part? I guess if they mean the last 2.5 miles (not the last 9), sure… It made 6.5 miles a lot longer and harder than I had pictured, but, what was hard? The whole thing was quite miraculous. I was running, in spectacular country, I didn’t care about my time, and I was smiling.
I didn't even know I was smiling, that's how good it was.

I was surprised to find near the end that although I expected to have gas left in the tank to power up for the last few miles… I didn’t. I had enough to coast in at a reasonable pace, but there was nothing left for a glorious, arms up finish line performance. I guess for a Birthday Challenge, you know you picked a good one when you have just enough fuel to finish.
You can almost see the word FINISH between all the people. I was SO excited to be there!


My time was a surprise. 4:34 minutes. Since 6 hours was my goal, I was very, very happy. Despite natural inclination, I continue to NOT compare myself to other people. I did AWESOME for me. It was difficult. It was further than I have ever run before. It was a magnificent way to spend my birthday.

WHAT I LEARNED: I can run 33k on a trail in less than 6 hours. I can turn down "the noise" and have fun!
Look at the little girl "gaining" on those lean ultra-runners!

Celebrating with a little Veuve Clicquot and conspiring for next year... 34.

Romney's Red Hot Birthday Challenge

When Edwards and I met, he was in training for his 47th Birthday Challenge.

47 Miles on his fixed-gear road bike.
47 on-sight climbs
47 Miles on his single speed mountain bike
47k of Running

To be completed in 24 hours

He succeeded and I was so much amazed that I proudly and adamantly proclaimed that I would never do a Birthday Challenge!

Fast forward two short years and someone went and organized a Valentine’s Race in Moab called the Red Hot 50k. Only, it’s not just a 50k, they also have a 33k, and don’t it be it all that I’m turning 33 this year? Two days before my birthday I have the opportunity to run my first ultra which happens to be 33k for my 33rd Birthday.
Training for the Red Hot in the FREEZING cold!

I realize that for many athletes and most trail runners this doesn’t sound like much of a challenge. For me, it borders on “damn near impossible”. Let’s weigh the governing factors which have shaped my running career.

1. Auto accident #1: I broke my femur. The surgery required cutting through the length of my Gluteus Maximus and I still have two screws above my right knee and a rod that sticks out of the bone and into my hip. When these foreign objects catch nerves… it hurts.

2. Auto Accident #2: Two torn ligaments in my right knee, pelvis cracked in five places. Physically all it really did was add insult to injury (and further hinder my performance in sports that require strong, fast legs).

3. I am predominantly slow twitch muscle fiber which never really allowed me to shine in the sports people care about. Sure, I was always decent at The Mile but that never overshadowed my poor performance at Dodge Ball (or Baskeball, or Baseball, or Football, or Gymnastics...).

4. Recent knee injuries due to previous tears or new damaged caused by being old and active.

Needless to say, I don't run.

Darned but they don’t call it “The Birthday Pretty-Hard”.

So, the goal is 33k, before they close the course or - if I'm being ambitious - in under 6 hours.
http://mas50.com/redhot/

There are days when I’m sitting around and think I’ll just get in the zone and run for however long it takes. Then there are days when I’m running and I think, “this is going to be impossible.”

Assault on Western Europe: Part VII. Final Fantasy

France
Thursday, April 23, 2009
How happy am I in the Loire Valley?

I spent just three and a half weeks there and my entire being still aches to be back in Europe; Alisa and Bruce no doubt see this coming and are aching to figure out how not to leave!

This day started out with a visit to a B&B that might have served as a viable option for Bruce and Alisa to stay on the continent. Might have, had it not been saddled with a satanic past. It was gorgeous, but I’m pretty sure the low price was not because the owner was anxious to be generous… it was cheap because she was anxious to disconnect from it.

The B&B did take us within walking distance of the glorious village of Cordes, so after I ran screaming from the house of the well, I high-tailed it to Cordes for a few hours of shopping. Shopping without Edwards hurrying me on to the next café or a spring classic bike race! This was my only chance to get any real souvenir shopping done and I do hope my mom and sisters like their gifts!
Edwards climbing at the Roc de Gorb with Bruce on belay.

After finally, no thanks to the South African realtor, reconnecting with Edwards and the group, we all headed out to the Roc de Gorb for some climbing. Bruce, Alisa, Ben, and Anka cycled there, while Edwards and I took the Hippo. It was nice to see Bruce harnessed up again, and to see him kill a few routes. It was humbling to see Anka so comfortable on her first climb. Darn athletes and their darn athleticism!
Bruce and how he feels about climbing now-a-days.

Later we had dinner in Najac where I learned that there is nothing better than dinner with new friends, old friends, and a view of a castle. I recall that the hot chocolate crepe we had for dessert was so tremendous that it made the entire dinner; whatever it was, fully spectacular! The great addition to the evening was Fenwick, Alan’s dog, the little black version of Ratso. He came in and said hello, but was shortly off to do whatever it is smart, independent dogs do. At the end of the night he came running to Alan’s whistle… just like Ratso would have. It was a cute goodbye to very good people: Ben, Anka, Alan, and sadly, even Alisa and Bruce. The next day we’d be off to the Loire Valley.
A perfect setting for our last meal with friends.

Friday, April 24, 2009
The Manoir les Minimes

After much gratitude to Bruce and Alisa, as well as leaving some climbing gear in case Bruce decided to get out again, we departed to do girl stuff. I’d been a (pretty) good sport about all the cycling and climbing, but I wasn’t leaving France without seeing some fairytale castles!

At Alisa’s suggestion, we booked a room at the Manoir Les Minimes. When we arrived, it could not have been more perfect. I don’t know how to describe it, as I’m not well versed it period furniture, or the different flowers that bloom in France, all I can say is that this was the France that the little girl in me recognized and adored.


Our room was number #12, with a view of the river and the castle, and parlor area in which to enjoy it. The windows were “storybook” perfect and opened to the scent of the freshest purple blooms. I was certain a blue bird would alight on my finger and we would have a song together. Didn’t happen.
Out our perfect window

While I could have lounged in my French Style princess suite for the entire afternoon, Edwards has no patience for such things. We set off to see the home where Leonardo DaVinci spent this last days and to tour around Amboise. The trip to Leonardo’s house was most intriguing; I still can’t get over how many things he invented. The anemometer? We use these to site wind farms today.
The home where Leonardo daVinci spent his last days.

Next we strolled down Town Square and had our first Ricard in France. We sat next to the Amboise castle wall at a bustling café. Edwards ran down to the shop and purchased tobacco and rolling papers for a smoke with his pastis. He’s so adorable.
Amboise Town Square

Our concierge booked us dinner at the best restaurant in Amboise - Pavillon de Lys. The establishment has one seating per night and they had one table left. It was the most incredible dining experience of either of our lives. They had two menu choices: Menu or Menu Legumes. I did the Menu Legumes and this is what I had:

Carrot Soup
Artichoke Spread
Poke Egg
Mushrooms
(Each more spectacular than the last)

Tomato soup with cucumber cake – in a glass, with a straw.

Spicy and sweet vegetarian lasagne

Almond chocolate tarte with vanilla glace
Strawberry Ice
Chocolate crisp with mango sauce
Crème in a cup
Macaroons and jam

Two courses of soup and 5 desserts? This meal must have been designed for me personally and it could not have been more perfect.

Edwards had the Menu and with it came four goat cheeses that were unlike any cheese we have tasted on the planet. Surely Wallace and Gromit found them on the moon. They were absolutely spectacular. This is what happens when you can use raw dairy.

After dinner we walked down the dark, narrow streets. It was so beautiful it reminded me of Zurich after our elopement. We went back to the hotel and enjoyed ourselves as we did on our honeymoon, but before I slept I wrote:

If rural France is about the lifestyle, the Loire Valley is about the Fairytale. Even though I’m tucked tightly into my bed, my heart is doing cartwheels down the street.
The streets of Amboise from Amboise Castle

Saturday, April 25, 2009
Amboise Chateau

Chateau Day in the Loire Valley. My notes were slim; the memory was captured digitally.

We on-sighted four Chateaux:
Amboise
Chenonceau
Cheverny
Chambord

All pictures are from the Chateau in Amboise. There are more photos, from the other castles, available on my Facebook page.
Even the instruments were glorious
A beautiful reason to go to church? The Chapel at Amboise
Our Manoir from Chateau Amboise
Loved, loved the luggage!
Edwards, always attempting to be where he shouldn't be.
Artistry in architecture
Amboise castle grounds
How beauty was captured before the photograph

Sunday, April 26, 2009
Fontainebleau, France
Our last B&B outside of Fontainebleau

After cramming the girl stuff into two days, we were back to climbing and both of us were excited about it.

Edwards had been going on about the boulders in Fontainebleau since our plane landed in Paris. Upon seeing the forest, yes, there is very much to go on about!

The forest is quite lovely, if you like that kind of thing (I prefer the SKY), but it does have 20,000 boulder problems going for it…
The only dry area in the rainy a.m.

Unfortunately, the rain had picked back up in France and the sandstone boulders were soggy. We managed to locate the one dry, overhanging area in the forest and shared it with a couple of nice chaps for most of the day.
Edwards getting a spot from one of the Brits while he worked this traverse.
Bill on a dry boulder in the afternoon

Bill Lucia, who had just returned from Bangladesh, was at this dry boulder and he shared the rest of the day with us as well. We bouldered; went into town to view the Fontainebleau Chateau from the outside, have some pastis, the’, café, and snacks; and then went back to bouldering. Later in the day things had dried up a bit and we were able to mess around on some Fontainebleau boulders for real.
Edwards working a dry problem in the afternoon

We had a wonderful B&B our last two nights in France with very kind owners and a perfect, perfect breakfast. While the dinners our last two nights were utterly disappointing for France, the ambience of the restaurant couldn’t have been better. Adjacent to the Dame Jouanne area was a real back-woods, climbers paradise of old shoes, equipment, rugged service, and cheap eats. The autographed pictures of Lynn Hill and other famous climbers were bonus. http://bleau.info/jouanne/
Our last room, fitting that it was called, "Voyager"

And that’s it. Our entire trip in a nutshell.

While this ending to a very, very long blog might seem abrupt, it is not so jarring as having to tear ourselves away from Europe after three and a half weeks, only to come home to Salt Lake City – where our food is dead and our responsibilities lie. The final note I made from our final day…

“Must leave tomorrow. TERRIBLE!”