Fresh Powder Tracks...

Tonight I got to make first tracks in fresh powder...two nice parallel lines streaking out behind me.  Nope, didn't go night skiing...drove home in the snow for the first time and got several miles of new tracks!

Mondays are generally not my thing.  But today there was a ray of sunshine smiling on me...mostly.

As I pulled out of the driveway on my way to work this morning, I thought, "SCHOOL BUS!"  Last week there was no school, so I didn't give a second thought to when I left for work.  This morning I felt sure I would be stuck behind the school bus, but I knew that at least I was early enough not to get stuck behind it from Philmont in to Cimarron.

WRONG!  Mrs. S waited for me to pass by before pulling the bus out onto Hwy 21.  Phew!

Then, because I was ahead of the bus, I got to see one of my nephew's friends waiting for the bus.  He gave me a very enthusiastic wave that just made me smile from ear to ear!

Work was work was work.  A few things seemed to fall in to place.  And ten hours later it was time to go home. 

It snowed here and there during the day, but not too heavily in town.  Evidently it snowed quite heavily in Philmont.  Then I heard from Marie who heard from a neighbor that there was black ice on the highway headed home.  This didn't make me thrilled, but I knew I just needed to go slow and careful.  I stopped at the store for a few groceries before getting on my way.

First (and this is why the mostly), a cat hit me as I approached the St. James.  It literally came from the side of the road and ran straight between the side tires.  I saw the white and black out of the corner of my eyes as it ran at me and then, "CLUNK."  There wasn't anything that could have been done differently, but I still felt terribly.  An hour later it was still in the middle of the road by the hotel - Marie told me.  So sad!

I drove on, and it started to snow hard.  It was like twilight zone driving when it hardly looks like you're going anywhere.  At Cattle HDQ the tracks turned off the road, and I got to make fresh tracks through the snow.  I was careful to downshift and take the curves smoothly.  I braked the first time when I hit Rayado and came across a herd of deer in the road.  One with its tail to me would not move.  I flashed my lights at it, but it wouldn't budge.  I inched closer, and it staggered a bit before zigzagging in front of me and finally running off the road...silly deer.  The rest of the way I spared two rabbits, making up for the goriness of the cat.

But best of all, when I got home, the house was warm and smelled delicious!  Thomas was waiting with dinner on the table: grilled cheese and special green chile, fishy tomato soup!  Yummy!  My husband knows how to take care of me!

Another first...

We haven't been out logging since hunting season started, but with the Thanksgiving holiday, there was a break in the hunt. It meant open season for dead trees, and all of us were excited for the hunt. Last night we made plans for this morning, and Marie even made burritos for all of us last night. Thomas and I took some good ribbing from everyone about being ready at 8:30 am this time. (Thomas and I were under the impression that we were heading out at 8 am two trips ago. When nobody showed up, we learned that start time was pushed back, and everyone else got to sleep in an extra half hour plus. The next time we went out, we were told 8:30 - 9 am. We decided we would be ready at 9 am, as the latter time was generally as early as anyone else could get going. Miraculously, they were all waiting at our mailbox by 8:45 am that morning.) So after a great party last night, Thomas and I set the alarm to get up early for wood cutting. We were meeting at our mailbox at 8:30 am. He and I each had a piece of pumpkin pie for breakfast and rolled out the door layered up for warmth. We parked at the end of our road and waited. We waited a little longer. First came Pop's truck, then Blackie, then the Salas crew. I don't know what time it officially was when everyone showed up, but it wasn't 8:30 am. Ah well... The road was cold but sunny. Things started off great until bouncing along the road. I thought I might be sick. I have had moments of car sickness in my life, but not consistently. I can usually read, sleep, play games, etc while driving without a problem, but this morning it was all I could do to just breathe through it. It is possible to attribute the cause to the partying last night, or maybe just the terribly, terribly bouncy road. We found our spot, gratefully not driving any farther than we had to. The guys got out their gear, and the trucks slowly filled up. Unfortunately we had a slight delay from our crew, as Thomas' chainsaw, which has never given him any troubles, decided that this morning was not a good day to start. The pull cord came right out with his second tug, and I thought that chainsaw was going to get strangled. Amazingly, my handy man just pulled it apart and put it right back together! The chainsaw acting up was not the other first. My first today was getting to fell a tree! I felled one with not much problem, but the second one was in a tight spot with a really gnarly top. It snagged in the tree next to it, and Thomas had to chop, chop, chop to get it loose. But I did it! And Pop caught it on picture for proof.

Thomas coached me through my first one!

The whole family on the hunt for dead trees! David, Andres, Marie, Sara, Maya, Daniel, Alice, Mike, Tori, Thomas, and Tio Dennis

Biscuits and gravy...

If it isn't already, it's going to be... MY THANKSGIVING TRADITION: biscuits and gravy the morning after. I can think of only two places where I can get biscuits and gravy at a restaurant. One is in Denver, and the other is in Portland. The first time I remember having biscuits and gravy was at a cute little Victorian house turned into a cafe in Sellwood, not far from my parents' house. Amy and Suzanne and I met up for a breakfast date probably three or four years ago. I thought it quite novel that I could order it because it wasn't made with sausage. And it was delicious! I think I made biscuits and gravy for breakfast the couple of years with the leftover gravy from Thanksgiving. I think I did. Regardless, this morning I got up early and made some homemade biscuits and then smothered them with the leftover gravy. As an embellishment this year, I chopped up an Apple Sage fake sausage (Grain Meat Co. makes flavorful fake sausages) and cooked it with the gravy. It really hit the spot!

Happy Thanksgiving

No picture today...not of my belly stuffed with yummy food or of my grateful heart. 

I was ready for today.  I cooked pumpkin Tuesday night and made the pies last night.  Yesterday afternoon I made the mashed potato casserole.  I had the whipping cream in the fridge and didn't whip it into shape until it was time for dessert.  This morning, all I had to do was bake the potatoes and make the gravy.  I set the alarm, just so I would have enough time to put the potatoes in, but I didn't need an alarm today.

I am especially grateful for getting about 10 hours of sleep.  I have been feeling really tired really often the past week.  I imagine that the extra early mornings don't help because my body tries to hold out to wait for Thomas to get home from work at 12:30 am.  I never can last that long, but I never get to bed early enough.  Today, I awoke feeling great.

I started my day re-stoking the hot coals left from last night's fire and making myself some tea.  We were getting together at noon, so I didn't want to spoil my appetite by eating breakfast!  I put the potatoes in and got to working on my "compost tea" - a rosemary gravy that actually smells to me like liquid stuffing.  It is essentially vegetable broth with herbs, carrots, onions, and celery...kind of like stuffing.  It is a favorite recipe for me, as gravy is usually made with meat - not for me!

Everything went mostly according to plan.  My only hiccup was running out of propane for the stove!  I turned the front burner on for the gravy, and it wouldn't light.  When I opened the oven, it was just warm.  Who knows when it went out, but I threw on my shoes and went out to open the nozzle on our spare tank.  (We have a little one and a big one hooked up - only the stove runs on gas.  We will have to take it to town to fill 'er up!)  Everything was once again right with my day when that was fixed.

It is hard to call it a Thanksgiving dinner so early in the day, especially when it was the first meal of the day for many of us.  Everything was delicious...Marie's stuffing, Julie's sweet potatoes, Alice's green beans, Marie's rolls, and potatoes and gravy to fill up the plate.  I am still full nearly 7 hours later.  I waited on pumpkin pie and whipped cream until about 4:30 - 5 ish because I just didn't have room earlier.  My digestion may have been interrupted by some running around in the front yard.  We had an amusing game of two-on-two soccer, which was a lot of fun, though my tummy kept telling me it was too full for me to be running around.  Sadly, Thomas had to leave for work in the afternoon, but I was grateful for the interruption in our play, so I could go home with him to send him off.

I am feeling pretty pooped all over again.  Thankfully, I can sleep in with my husband tomorrow!

The hills are alive....

...with the sound of music. And so was my car driving home last night. I missed a call from Dave & Marie when I stopped at the grocery store in Raton. The woman who planned to sing with Dave this morning at mass was terribly sick and had lost her voice. Unless he could find someone to sing with him, there would be no music. Singing is something I enjoy, and I have offered to sing at church, though not by myself. I had faith I could do it, though I knew I would be nervous. So I turned the radio off for my last 45 minutes of car time, and I started to sing. I tried to recall back to Concert Choir class at St. Mary's my sophomore year of high school. Dr. Kelly would warm us up singing mee-may-mah-moe-moo, so I started with that. I couldn't think of any others, though I pretended for my audience of me that I knew a few others. Really ridiculous if it would have been daylight, as anyone driving by would think I was some talent-less hopeful trying for American Idol (I've actually never watched it, so I can't really make fun). I sang Alleluias and other bits and pieces of songs. I sang a lot of la la las when I ran out of words for the songs. I tried to get myself ready for the phone call when I got home. Thomas was asleep when I got home, resting up before the midnight shift. I called Marie and Dave to ask if I had heard the message correctly. In fact, I had. I headed over straight away to practice. It is important to say that David plays the guitar. He rocks the guitar. He can play anything he looks at, or at least he has the reputation for it. He also teaches music in Maxwell. This guy knows his stuff. He was set up in the living room, so we started with the first song and kept going. We probably practiced for a couple hours. I felt pretty good about the songs that had been selected, familiar with some more than others. My biggest fear is that starting note. I have never really sung with a guitar like I have with a piano, and it is a little different. David was great about cuing the first note, so I just hoped that once the first note came out, the whole congregation would join in song. I also sang soprano when I was in choir, but for projecting without a microphone, the lower tone is better. I would bounce around the notes in practice, but hoped that I would just wake up and know what to do. I set my alarm early to be at the office by 7 am. Confirmation class started at 8 am, and I needed to prepare for it, too. My one student was out sick this morning, so I did some other work. But mostly I had nothing to distract me from the butterflies getting bigger in my belly. David showed up shortly after 9 am and practiced all the songs with me. I knew that my biggest challenge would be loudness and the first note, but there was not much to do about that. We set up at the front of the church, and I just prayed to God that I would do well and not see the congregation looking at me. All in all, the music was great. David is amazing. He played so well, but he also adjusted his tempo quite a bit off the cuff because the congregation was much slower than we practiced. I was so impressed. I had one little "verse" during the Alleluia to sing by myself, and it went off okay...or at least okay enough, so then I felt more at ease. I was joking with Thomas that I don't imagine it will be the last time for me, but I am glad I got the first time out of the way! I know so many great musicians and singers who cantor for mass, and I can't help but appreciate even more the gift of their music at mass. It also makes me wonder how I am "qualified" to be doing it, like getting to take the fire truck for a spin. I guess out here we all wear lots of different hats. Despite the strong winds, once you put one hat on, it is not likely to come off either...

Whirlwind....Pt II

Saturday morning I awoke at 6:45 am and got myself together for the rest of my Denver trip. Betty made waffles and hot chocolate, so my day certainly started off on the right foot. I called to see if Jennifer needed a ride to Castle Rock for our very special pampering of Ahna morning, but she and Mary were still struggling to come to life after the night at Sancho's. Pobrecitas... I arrived at Ahna's house in time to see Ezra before he left for a fun-filled day with his Savta (grandma). It was especially sweet that he ran to greet me when I came it...sure made me feel special. Ahna and I met up with the other girls at the spa where Ahna had a special "floating" massage. As a pregnant woman, she cannot lay on her tummy to get her back and shoulder worked on, so they "float" her on a couple layers of warm water that allows the masseuse to work on the back from below the body. Pretty fascinating! The other girls had made appointments, too, but I had already had mine Friday with Cathy. We headed back to Ahna's house for some nibbles and catching up. We had a lot of fun, though after such a relaxing morning, everyone was ready for a nap. It was fun not to have to be anywhere or do anything, at least until about 3-ish when I planned to head south. After a lazy morning, we headed to our concluding destination of the pampering: Mt. Fuji. We shared a few rolls and enjoyed some more conversation before all heading off in different directions. It was a great way to spend my Saturday. I didn't leave Castle Rock until closer to 4 pm, but I still made it home in good time.

A Whirlwind...

While it is terribly windy today...terribly, the real whirlwind was my Friday and Saturday. My dear girlfriend Ahna is less than a month away from her due date on delivering baby number two. We spent some time together over the Labor Day weekend, and I visited her bathroom when Thomas and I drove to Denver to fly off for ToddieP's wedding. But the ladies of the Columbine House decided we needed to collect ourselves in Castle Rock to appropriately celebrate Ahna and the new baby joining the family. We really needed to celebrate Oren, too, but his schedule changed a while back, and we goofed on not accounting for the shift. Friday morning I set the alarm early. I headed off about 7:15 am and drove north! It was an uneventful drive. I did spill my cereal, but I had a few munchies in a bag tucked in behind the seat. If not for my bladder, I could have driven straight through because I had a full tank of gas. I made it to Deb's house by 11:30 am and stayed for about 90 minutes. We sipped tea, nibbled on marzipan kartoffelen (marzipan shaped like little potatoes) and other goodies. It was great to catch up and talk. The next time I see Deb will be sometime after she returns from Indonesia in February! Next I headed to Golden, where I spent 90 minutes with my friend Cathy. She is my Rolfer (and really awesome, too), so our time together was both social and therapeutic. She worked on my wrists, feet, head, and shoulders. It feels good to restore my posture and such, as there has been much stress and change in the past six months. Hopefully it will not be another six months before she works on me again, but I won't see her until after she returns from Thailand at the end of the year. I squeezed in a short visit with my friend Andrea, who works at First Bank. It was a business call I had to make, so might as well make it at her branch and sneak in an update from her. It would have been fun to see the whole Davis clan, but I am always grateful for the stories of everyone. And like any good momma, she had pictures to show! From there I spent 90 minutes with my friends Nikki and Russ and their new baby, Henry. He is only three weeks old, so I felt especially privileged to see them and hold Henry. Despite carrying my camera around the whole weekend, often turning it on to share pics with friends, this is the only picture that I got: I was so glad to be there in person to hear the stories about how Henry entered the world...e-mail wouldn't have done it justice. And to see the happy family all together...priceless! Next up I spent a little over 90 minutes with my girlfriend Minerva. Traffic was in her favor to get to see me the longest! We drove down to DTC to have dinner with AnnaBelle. What fun for the three of us to be together again telling stories. We also had some really good falafel. And my last stop of the day was going to be Betty's house. When I called, she wanted to pick up some wine at Argonaut. I was also wanting to go there, but wasn't sure when I could squeeze it in, so we made a trip of it. I had also received an invitation to join Mary & Jennifer & Gabe at Sanchos. I haven't been to the Cho's in over a year, probably two, or maybe I am just being forgetful. Sancho's is a hippie bar on Colfax, and I spent a lot of time hanging out there during the ten years I lived in Denver, primarily during the Columbine House days. As it is located across from the Argonaut, Betty and I walked over together. She'd never been in there, but she is a great sport. We stuck around not more than 30 minutes, but it was fun to see everyone, say hello to the bartenders I had gotten to know, and get nostalgic. The bartender offered Betty a drink on the house, as they "take care of their moms." She declined, but we all thought that was great. She and I headed back to her house for a white russian and some Racko. You can bet I had sweet dreams after a full day of friends!

Get off the sidewalks!!

Actually, we don't have sidewalks.  Our roads are lined with ditches and grassy shoulders.  I definitely would recommend staying off those....

 

WHEN I AM DRIVING THE CLASS A FIRE TRUCK!  Oh yeah...that's right!  Nothing like putting tons of metal and tons of water on wheels and steering it down bumpy roads!

 

I was late getting out of the office, and I put the pedal to the metal (within reason and safety because it was really dark) and made it to fire hall just 10 minutes late.  The third Thursday of the month is for training.  Last month we ran the wildland fire trucks and tested the pumps.  When I pulled up tonight, every truck was out of the garages and running with the lights on.  I made my way into the hall to see what I had missed.  There was a brief conversation going on among the four guys there, but shortly after I arrived, Daniel headed out to the bay and told me to come along.  He told me to pick a truck, and I hesitated.  He was looking at the big trucks, not the wildland fire trucks.  So I told him to choose for me...I don't know much difference between them yet, and I hoped he would pick the easiest to maneuver. 

 

He turned everything off and showed me how to start the Class A.  I climbed up into it, not mentally prepared for what was happening.  We flashed the lights but skipped the horn.  I pushed the emergency brake off and stepped on the gas.  Turns out I didn't push hard enough; the second attempt was followed with "away we go".  Daniel suggested we head out to the dumpsters.  I knew the way.

 

As I drove, I asked all the silly questions.  Does this truck actually fit between the yellow and white lines on the road?  How fast can you drive this thing?  Does it have brights?  Daniel, my excellent instructor who was not bossy at all, warned me when to slow down and explained that it drives like most automatics.  However, there is a whole tank of water sloshing around behind the driver that affects how it handles.  That big wheel, circling through my hands, made me think of all the times I've imitated driving a school bus, but for as heavy a beast I was driving, everything seemed to bounce. 

 

I had to make a three point turn the way I decided to go, a great way to learn what not to do for next time.  I thought I was making it easier for myself to turn around at the dumpsters and head back to the fire house, but no....Daniel took me for an adventure.  I did get the brights turned on, but the fact is that it was dark.  I don't know how my view was affected by being up so high, but the lights on that car did not illuminate that far in front of me, especially for as slow as I was driving.  The dirt road past the dumpsters that headed west and cut down through the polo ranch back to the highway seemed like a safer bet for me, as it meant there would be less of a chance of running into other traffic and having to share the road.  As great as those mirrors were, there was no light behind me to illuminate anything I might see.  Daniel was, however, surprised that I hadn't been down that road before, which did make it interesting.  He called out the "hairpin turn" and other places I needed extra caution.  Driving the road for the first time in the dark would have been reason enough to drive slow, and driving the Class A for the first time was also reason enough to drive slow.  So the combination of the two meant that Daniel and I were both late for dinner.

 

We made it back to town, and it dawned on me that I was going to have to pull past the fire house and back the truck into the bay.  Wow!  I have never used air brakes before, and they didn't feel really smooth as I lurched my way back.  With Pop guiding me from the back wall of the fire house and Daniel at my side, I did a decent hob parking the truck.  I didn't scratch anything or run into anyone.  Pretty good, right?  Couldn't have done it without my those two guys.

 

It was fun, and I am assured that there will be many more trainings.  I understand next month's training will be in social skills, involve adult beverages, and have holiday tunes in the background.  Till then...

A better day...

Thanks, God!  My post last night was not a plea for sympathy, and certainly not pity, though it did elicit concern and encouragment.  Capturing the life out here includes the good days and the bad, though the good days are more fun to reflect upon and memorialize on a blog.  I received great support in coping.  I think there was some divine timing when the phone rang shortly after the incident yesterday, and my brother Daniel called to see if I wanted to get lunch.  Brilliant!  YES!  That's God.  And moving on from the day and my doubts, I want to persevere.

 

I did wake up this morning feeling like it was going to be a better day.  I was sad to have had to leave before Tom got home from a 16 hour shift, but I knew he would crawl through the door and barely make it to the bed, so it was just as well.  Work was work.  I enjoyed breaking my former supervisor Sarah Connolly's favorite workplace safety rule: I stood on a chair.  Actually, I stood on stacks and stacks of chairs.  My co-worker Chris and I hung a banner at the hall, but we didn't have ladders tall enough.  So I suggested we switch walls and climb up the stacks of chairs as our ladders.  While standing on chairs is a major workplace hazard, standing on a stack of eight surrounded by other stacks of eight actually was more stable than the shorter ladders.  I giggled secretly for breaking that ingrained rule.

 

I also got a lot done at the office today, which always helps to feel satisfied at the end of the day.

 

Tonight I got to see all the family in town except Julie and Granny, which is always a treat on a weeknight to get to visit.

 

And tomorrow I leave for Denver for a quick visit to friends and my first rolfing treatment in 6 months.  Whoop whoop!  A good day indeed.

 

(The other excitement of the day is worthy of its own post.)

Heart to heart...

My husband is a good and insightful man. This weekend we were talking about life, more specifically about living here in northern New Mexico. Thomas had a drive on Saturday that gave him some time to pray and talk with God. He told me later that he prayed for me and asked God to help me resist becoming cynical. I hadn't even realized I would need this prayer. It is generally true that I am an optimist. Not just the silver lining seeking optimist, but I really want to believe in the good in everybody. I want to believe in that best part of ourselves that refuses to give way to selfish, mean or petty ways. That place within us that when we let it shine, illuminates the good in others. I want to give people the benefit of the doubt. People may think that's just being a Pollyanna or terribly naive. But I believe that it is just more authentic to the human spirit and that deep down we all really want to be good people. There's always exceptions, but thus far I have been steadfast against cynicism. I have had the good fortune of working over the years side by side with some amazing living saints. People who selflessly give and love for others, people who humbly open their hearts and hands to receive, and people who quietly bear witness to the beauty of friendship, creation, and humanity. It really is remarkable to have found myself in the company of such great people. And yet Tom's prayer was as timely as any. Today was difficult and trying. Not the first trial in my life, and certainly not the first since moving here. Likely not the last. When Thomas and I decided that we wanted to move out of the city, it was for many reasons, not the least was my own pursuit of a certain idyllic quality I found in the small towns I lived in during my various travels. The notion of really knowing your neighbors, being in community, has been very strong for me, and I struggled in the big city to maintain that when there are easily 50+ people living on a block and 20+ blocks between home and work, and even more between home and friends. So many strangers, not enough neighbors. I was challenged by the notion that out here people live in a small town to get away from neighbors, but I have wonderful family and have met some great people, too. Unfortunately, I have also met people who challenge my optimism. So I end the day feeling foolish and naive to want to find the good in someone who treated me poorly and said hurtful things to me. Feeling weak when the urge to be cynical arises. But I don't want to give up, and I don't want to be beat. I want to rise up singing and looking again for a reason to celebrate. A small town can be tough when people act petty, mean, and selfish, but I don't want to give in to that behavior or be bullied by it either. I am grateful for my family who rallies me when it feels like being a misanthrope is a better option. Tomorrow can be a better day.

Guest commentary....

If anybody is reading this beside Daniel, I encourage you to also read the comments that have recently been appearing regarding the various posts.  I don't pretend to do anything more than keep this little diary of sorts.  It is a fun way for my family and friends near and afar to keep up with what's going on, but I don't know that very many of them read it.  It really is more for me. 

 

About 11 year ago I started keeping a journal, a more grown up way of saying writing letters to "Dear Diary".  I wrote pretty consistently for the better part of 8 of the 11 years.  Mostly I would put myself to bed and wirte for a while.  Sometimes I would write down my dreams as soon as I awoke in the morning.  Admittedly, in the last couple years, I have stayed up way too late talking, catching up with family or friends, dishing about this really great man in my life, but that's where the blog comes in.  It's just been fun to write for me, and also fun to look back nostalgically about the past.  Occasionally in my Columbine House days, my journals were subpoenaed to set the record straight on which year we bought the really large Christmas tree from the lot on Monaco and Colfax or when we held a certain party that got out of control when someone's coworker started wandering the house with a guitar driving people to drink more or just leave.

 

Anyway, my witty family has posted some amusing comments that I think are really funny and really complete or validate some of my stories.  If you have met him, you know Daniel is a funny guy and maybe you can even read his comments with his voice in your head.  He and Marie, Thomas's older brother and sister, are a wealth of prankfulness, as I have learned from the many stories of abuse Thomas endured.  I am sure this is why my own little brother and Thomas get along so well - the abused and favored babies of their families.  Marie and Daniel love to dramatize their woeful lives in the shadow of their favored, ne'er-do-wrong, little brother, all for a few good laughs.  Actually, the laughs are many, but evidently I am now in cahoots with Thomas or something.  "Who me?"  My own siblings, I am sure, would vouch for my innocence...

 

Or maybe the comments are just an inside joke that don't make sense to anyone but us.  If so, please disregard the first sentence of this post.

Driving in the dark...

I know it is not terribly profound to say that the world looks different in the dark, but it is an observation upon which I am about to expound.

 

Highway 21 would not be a good place for someone who is epileptic to drive at night on a windy night.  All along the road, with the music turned up and maybe some party snacks on the passenger seat, one can get some dance moves in while driving the miles.  The road signs flutter in the wind...yes, the wind is that strong that the triangular no passing zone signs and the rectangular "pass with care" signs pivot on their poles.  This windy effect creates quite a strobe light from the intermittent reflection of high beams off the metal.  The first time I saw the flashing light up ahead, I was terribly confused, as I couldn't recall in the daylight that there was anything in the road with a flashing light on it.  Nope, just the wind.

 

I am kind of curious, too, if I can make up a Physical Law about how strong winds can blow away light waves.  The wind can be so strong at night, in combination with the low ambient light, that light just doesn't seem to travel far, especially in the periphery. 

 

Despite light reflecting off metal, there is little ambient light around.  While this illuminates the stars really well, coming from the west one might just drive right past our property without even knowing there is a single thing on the land.  We did just get a motion sensor light on the front porch, which will come on when I drive past, but before there was just the light that I turned on for Thomas when I got home.  Until then the house was completely dark, save for the green light on the chest freezer and the red lights on the router.  Very literally, one could drive by and not see the house, two morgan buildings, the tin shed, and the horse barn, let alone trees or any natural features.  Everything is set so far back from the road that headlights don't reach their beams that far off the road.  It is really quite eerie to me to live beyond sight like that, though comforting, too. 

 

And then the things you can see don't look the same as they do in the day.  I drove to Daniel and Julie's house last night, and it was so dark that I thought I missed their road.  The sides of the road overgrown with the dry stalks of sunflowers looked to be ten feet tall.  I couldn't see where their house was.  When I got to the road and turned down, the grooves and ruts seemed to have faded.  I couldn't see the trees that mark the edge of their property until I was between them.  It was the most curious thing to drive in and out, as if I had never been there before.  I am not sure why the light made the road look so flat because we all know the county doesn't maintain it in the least. 

 

Anyway, I just walk in the door and turn on the lights, and the cold and darkness fade away.  But not the wind....

A Weekend with Thomas...

Been busy with work and time with my husband and other house work...such is life! 

 

Thomas had Saturday and Sunday night off of work, so we spent all sorts of time together this weekend.  Friday night with the sibs playing games, Saturday sleeping in and tinkering around the house, Saturday night at Julie's birthday party, Sunday morning at church and then a drive to Raton/Trinidad, and yummy homemade meals together Sunday and Monday night.  I was stocking up, as a quick trip to Denver Friday/Saturday will mean I don't really get to see him until Sunday afternoon. 

 

Saturday night we stayed late at the party...I got to bowl, wakeboard, canoe, sword-fight, and throw frisbee.  Daniel and Julie have a Wii.  It is my second time playing it.  Pretty entertaining, but mostly I think they were entertained by watching me pretend that a little 2x2x8 controller is a paddle or the handle behind a large boat dragging me along.  It was so much fun that we didn't want to leave, save for being really tired.

 

Alas, we came home to a cold house.  Of course nobody was there to tend a fire all night, so Thomas turned the heat up briefly before we crashed.  Probably should have just built a fire, but then we wouldn't have found out that we blew a couple of fuses and a transformer on the furnace.  The air coming out of the vent was not much warmer than if I turn the heat on in my car right away in the morning before it has warmed up when it is only 20 degrees outside.  (Maybe a slight exaggeration, but close...)   Gratefully, Thomas is a handy guy, so he has been working on it.  And gratefully, too, our primary source of heat is the wood stove!

Monkey Wrench...

It was time. My little go cart was long overdue for an oil change. Thomas and I had purchased the filter and oil in Raton a couple weeks earlier, but with so many other projects, we were waiting for just the right day. Despite having just been told my my niece Sara that boys are stinky because they are boys and because "they change things...you know, like oil...", I have been asking Thomas to teach me how to change my oil. We don't have ramps yet (a Christmas wish list item), and there is no way to shimmy under my car without them, so Thomas went to get his dad's. The wind left a chill in the air, so he suggested we could drive my car over and just work in his dad's garage. Cool! So he set the ramps out, and I drove up. He pointed out the cardboard to put down, and then on second thought, he suggested I could use the little wheelie thing to roll around under the car instead. Thomas called it a creeper. In hindsight I should have used both. I found the bolt that keeps the oil in and the filter above it. Thomas talked me through what I was doing, and despite my best efforts, I came out pretty clean. The filter surprised me because the oil shot out in several different directions, making ti tricky to position the pan just right. That was when I first got oil on Pop's garage floor. Once the filter was changed, Thomas had to help me loosen the bolt on the oil pan. I couldn't get it to budge. But once off it drained pretty quickly.

Proof that I did it... I found the manual and the capacity chart...3.5 quarts. Thomas sent me out to the "hot box" to find the oil funnel. I set to it filling the car up with fresh oil. We rolled Pita off the blocks and then topped her off. Pretty neat!

I was trying to tell Thomas that I have put oil in a car before. This part isn't really notable.

So I did get oil on Pop's garage floor. Thomas told me that is a serious offense, but a little kitty litter would take care of it. He looked high and low, and so did I. We couldn't find it anywhere. I was nervous that they would get back from Trinidad and see the mess. I figured I would get off okay, but maybe not my instructor. Thomas resorted to a bit of sawdust, which didn't really help much. I swept it out, and we put everything away. No kitty litter...I decided to leave another mark. I took a pencil and made a little circle around my spill. I wrote "Tori learned to change her oil" around it. At least I owned up to my mistake. And only made it slightly worse.... (I expect I will go over later and clean it up today.)

My first pumpkin pie...

Thursday night came and went with a lot of fanfare. I deliberately chose not to turn on the computer, so I would not be distracted from the many tasks at hand. I walked in the door around 5:45 or so, and immediately set to work building a fire. My sweet husband had scooped and dumped the ashes and restocked the firewood, so I was all set. So kind! Next I worked on supper: mashed potatoes and a meat-free sausage (Grain Meat Co makes really great flavors, including Apple - Sage, which is what I had). I read part of my book while eating, taking my time, wanting not to rush into the pie baking. These are practice pumpkin pies for Thanksgiving. Not wanting to fail miserably baking them for the first time on Thanksgiving morning, I decided I better try my luck now. In addition to generously stocking the wood pile for me, Thomas also picked up a few more pumpkins from his parents, so I could cook them up for the real pies. I started then by preheating the oven and baking pumpkins. I figured they would be done by the time I was ready to slide pumpkin pies in, as well as partially preheating the oven. Then I pulled out the mixer. I got everything ready and went to town. Now my first mistake may have been my own nostalgia. My mom sent me my Great Grandma Wojcik's Pumpkin Pie Recipe. I realized that when we had gone through Grandma's recipe box after she passed away, I had already copied some of the favorites. For the pumpkin pie, she had duplicate recipe cards, so I actually have one of hers. What I failed to realize is that following the print out from my mom would have been a lot simpler. Apron tied tight, I started with the eggs. One, two, three - had a problem. The third egg I cracked had two mini yolks. Shoot...phone a friend time! I called Marie. I know she is an excellent baker, and if in a real pinch, she probably would have driven the mile to come over and help me out. But first the phone call: is it okay if there are two little yolks in one egg? Do I still add the fourth egg? Should I fish them out and add a normal yolk instead? Evidently it is much more common than I realize; though I love to cook eggs and do at least weekly, I have never seen a double yolk egg.

The two mini yolks on the right were really cute and little.

The fourth egg and the sugar went in. Next, the recipe calls for a "#2 1/2 (large) can pumpkin". When baking the pumpkin bread last week, the equivalent was 2 1/2 cups fresh pumpkin. On my grandma's recipe card on the same line as this ingredient it listed "3 1/2- 4 cups". Subconsciously knowing better, I had pureed 4 cups of pumpkin, so I added it all. Second mistake... I added all the rest of the ingredients. My third mistake, albeit a little one, was turning the mixer up to high. It is a powerful mixer and will splash a mostly liquid recipe all over. The pumpkins in the oven were not quite ready to come out, but I figured it would be okay to turn the heat to begin preheating for the pie. The recipe card lists two different temperatures and times. I had no idea if this was normal, so I made my second phone-a-friend call. "Marie, the recipe says 15 minutes at 475 or 45 minutes at 400. Is this a choice or do I do both?" She advised me that, indeed, it is not a choice. She also thought the temperatures seem really high, especially for our elevation. She recommended not setting it so high, in case the pumpkin would cook too fast on the outside. I made my adjustments and pulled out the frozen pie shells from the freezer. Yes, I went to such great lengths to make a homemade pumpkin pie, and I used pre-made frozen crust! My friend Arzella told me once, and Arzella can really bake, that you cannot usually tell the difference between a store bought and a homemade crust, so why bother? It's more effort than it is worth. I figured at the very least I could cheat this way on the practice versions. The crust wrapper said to preheat the cookie sheet and proclaimed the advantage of using a cookie sheet for carrying it in and out of the oven, as well as catching overflow, so in it went. Then it was time. I set the pie pans on the hot cookie sheet and began to fill. There was a lot more filling after the two crusts were filled to the brim. I had seen Marie use ramekins to bake the extra filling. Sans crust, it was still a delicious treat. In fact, I still had one of her ramekins from getting to bring home a pumpkin custard treat. I also had a mini bread pan in the dish rack from when I made pumpkin bread for the first time the week before. I filled it with pumpkin custard to the brim, too. The ramekin fit on the cookie sheet with the pies, and I slid it into the oven. The little mini loaf went on the shelf below. I set the timer for fifteen minutes and went back to my book. The oven smelled good at first. Then there was a burning smell. It looked like the crust was going to char at the high temperature, and I was nervous not to turn it down. I made my third phone-a-friend call to Marie pleading what to do about the crust and was it too late to wrap foil around the edges or should I just let the edges burn and then break them off later...oh the woe and worry... Marie confirmed my suspicion that it would be difficult at this stage to try to foil the edges and suggested I bake it at 350 for the last 45 minutes. The buzzer rang, and I adjusted the temperature and the timer once again. This time I fixed a cocktail before going back to my book. With the oven hot and the fireplace sizzlin', it was warm in the house. I needed a cold drink to calm my fears, though I could still smell something burning. A full fifteen minutes after the buzzer sounder, I finally thought the custard was set enough to pull the pies out. I guess the higher temperature would have been okay. The crusts looked great. The custard was fine. The mini loaf pan on the bottom shelf had boiled over and left charred sugar and pumpkin crusted down the edges and on the bottom of the oven. Why it wasn't the edges burning at all...just my big mistake of adding an extra cup and a half of pumpkin that necessitated baking it in anything I could get my hands on. Alas, Tori, alas... So the baked pumpkin was peeled and back in the fridge. The counter and dishes were cleaned. The pies cooled. I had finished my book. I was tired! I left a note for Thomas to help himself to the little blue ramekin of custard when he got home from work, but it was still there when I awoke in the morning, so I ate it for breakfast. Not bad... We split the mini loaf of custard after lunch on Friday, and I will take a pie to Julie's birthday party tonight. All in all I learned a lot. I think I will be ready for Thanksgiving in a couple of weeks!

It all turned out okay. Still more squash to bake and turn into a delectable dish.

Meow....

GUESS WHAT?!?!?!

 

Alone on the road this morning because the kids didn't have school today, I must have been the first one to head west towards the lake on Hwy 21.  As I came around a bend getting close to the lake, I saw a large kitty cat run up the embankment and south towards the mesa. 

 

At first it moved quickly, and I wondered by the coloration if it was a fox.  Then it got to a small clearing and looked back at me.  It was no little fox.  It looked like the body was about four feet, and the tail was at least another three feet.  The end of the tail looked like a darker brown, but the rest was more of a honey color. 

 

I was also aware of the presence of skunk somewhere not far from the road.  Dead or alive, it had sprayed recently.  I wondered if the cat had gone after it, or if the sound of the approaching car may have interrupted the cat preying on the unsuspecting skunk.  Either way,  HOW COOL!  I saw a big kitty!  (And don't worry, Mom and Dad, it was nowhere near our house.)

Singled out....

There was a forecast for precipitation at the end of the day yesterday.  I didn't see anything falling from the sky before I went to bed, but I did see a lot of stars.  The forecast was rain with a little snow in the mix.  This morning, I felt sort of like a kid on Christmas morning, wondering if it really snowed!  Thomas was still asleep, so I quietly made my way into the bathroom to get ready for work, putting my contacts in, so I could check out the living room window.  I saw the back of Tom's truck and a somewhat gray morning.  I did not see snowdrifts, mud, or any other indication that the sky opened up while I was asleep.

 

I finished getting ready for work, kissed Thomas good-bye, and donned my vest and gloves to go outside and greet the day.  Peering out the window in the front door, I saw a white car where my black one should have been.  I am not saying that I had my own personal snow cloud drop a few inches only on my car.  It would appear that there was snow on the car, or maybe a heavy heavy layer of frost.  Again, the ground looked like dry rocks and grass, Thomas's truck was frost free, but my car was white.  I turned on the defrost and got out my scraper.  The white layer wouldn't just sweep away, but it scraped off pretty easily.  It did appear on the drive that there might be a little dry precipitation coming down, but just in little spurts it would like a few flakes were coming down. 

 

I am not sure whether to count this as the first snow, as I might be accused of being a loony.  I don't know if anyone else saw it.  Today is Friday...a no school day for kids around here, so the only ones I know usually out and about at the same time I am are the teachers and students.  Hmmmm...

Where was Quality Control?

By way of a follow-up to my indignation about the resurfacing job, this morning, in the light of day and in a lane with lines on both sides, I saw that the yellow line may be all that lasts of the paint job.  The white line looks like a topo map of the Rockies in winter; it just illuminates the poor job done as you see all the dips in the edge of the road.  Some sections are so narrow that the white stripe is on the very edge of the road or on loose gravel or grass, which likely won't do the job of keeping the white line in place.  I felt like a bad driver riding on the yellow line, now that we know where the middle of the road is, but in a few places the road really slopes off to the edge.   Anyway...nothing like starting my day in a grateful mood....

Teens

Rumor has it that it could get into the teens the next few nights, or at least feel that way.  We didn't have any precipitation tonight, but maybe Thursday...and it could have a little snow in it...

The days are warm and sunny here in Miami.  I found myself in short sleeve shirts outside this past weekend, and boy does the sun feel good.  Even just opening the shades on our windows during the day will keep it pretty warm inside.  But the winds of fall picked up some colder weather that blew in today.  Plus the howling wind makes it feel a lot colder, especially at night. 

Last night there were all sorts of animals all over the road, hanging out in the middle of the road, running back and forth.  Tonight the road was empty of life, save for the four or five cars I passed going the other way.  Everyone wanted to be home protected from the wind tonight!

Thomas and I have been burning fires nearly every night.  It is amazing how well it heats up the place.  Atop the fireplace sits my grandparents old cast iron kettle, great for keeping full of water to help put a little moisture into our dry, dry air.  When I was a kid, my parents had the same one that sat atop our wood-burning stove.  It was our job to make sure that it stayed full of water and never boiled down.  Dad, at least I think it was his thing, kept cinnamon sticks in the kettle, so that not only did the fireplace humidify the house, but it also filled it with a wonderful smell.  I mention this only because the cinnamon smells so good in our house, too.  (Portland, as compared to Denver and Miami, is such a humid place.  It makes me wonder if I shouldn't have two kettles on my stove.)

Ooops, time to more wood on the fire...

 

Apples, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie...If You're Not Ready, Holler...

AYE!!!  I am not ready, but getting close!

Marie asked me to bring a few things for Thanksgiving dinner, including the pumpkin pie.  I have never baked a pumpkin pie.  I actually cannot really think of any pie that I have baked except ice cream pies.  I think maybe I tried an apple pie one time.  And one time I made a summery strawberry and lemonade pie.  But pumpkin pies were Grandma's thing and my mom's thing.  And really all the baking was someone else's gig.  So I decided that I need to practice making the pie before Thanksgiving because I don't want to be analyzing a charred pie pan wondering what went wrong on Thanksgiving morning.

Friday I got the recipe for pumpkin pie from my mom, who got it from her mom, who got it from her mom.  Yep, I am using my great-grandma's pumpkin pie recipe.  It has never let me down when passed to me with a dollop of homemade whipped cream and a fork, so I know that if something goes wrong, it isn't the recipe's fault.

Sunday I baked the pumpkins I had from Pop's garden.  It was a chilly evening, so turning on the oven was great.  Marie and the girls stopped by in the evening, so Maya and Sara helped sort seeds from pumpkin guts.  We made part of the tray just plain salty seeds, as the girls like.  One third of the tray was dusted with ground rosemary and salt, a recommendation from Marie.  And the last third of the tray, we experimented with cinnamon and sugar.  The girls liked the salty and cinnamon sugar seeds, and both ate a good helping of them last night with dinner.

Two days later I find myself with all the ingredients in hand, but not the courage.  I decided tonight I would puree the pumpkin.  It seems like a lame and very privileged excuse, but I could only bear to bring out and dirty one kitchen appliance.  So the mixer will wait for its turn, maybe Thursday, in keeping with the pattern of accomplishment.  Tonight I got out the food processor and did a number on the pumpkin.  Along with the dishes left in the sink since yesterday, I had plenty to clean up tonight without going all the way.  Plus, last night I got home from work at 8 pm and tonight at 7:30 pm.  By the time I got a fire built and a meal made, I didn't think I had the strength to see it through to the end.  Not to mention that I won't see Thomas until Friday afternoon, and I am not sure whether he would read the note to stay out of the pies.

Why do today what can be put off till tomorrow when you can justify it so?

Doing lines...or doing time?

That's what the DOT (Department of Transportation) was doing today on Hwy 21 between Springer and Cimarron!  I have to say that I appreciated finally having lines painted on the highway, even though SE bound lane was naked on the right side for most of the way.  It really does make a difference when someone is coming at you in the pitch black night at 40 - 45 mph, canceling out your own headlights, and there isn't even a line on the road to look for to make sure you aren't going to end up in the ditch.  So, hooray for lines!

Our newly resurfaced (not paved) highway is a mockery of government.  I don't really want to go political with this, but the story is pretty pathetic.  According to some of the locals, the gravel has been sitting alongside the highway for a couple of years.  I am not sure if this was creative budgeting or if DOT didn't get the memo that their gravel arrived.  Either way, the gravel has been stationed along the highway for a couple of years.  At the end of summer, the resurfacing began, which was noted in earlier posts by the chaotic commute and the chips in my windshield.  The highway, as Tom tells it, is basically a cracked up strip of concrete resurfaced time and time again.  Did the guys working on the highway do anything about the potholes or the crumbling edges?  Nah....they just resurfaced them.  So the pothole looks really nice with its new finish....and the bindweed and grass is growing up through the gravel and tar, proving it was there first and won't give up so easily. 

During the rain storms we have had since the resurfacing, one can hydroplane in the trenches in the highway.

Amusingly enough, the DOC (Department of Corrections) was out with the local prisoners filling in potholes within a month of the resurfacing.  I am not sure what that says about the system or the quality of the job, but the theme is "criminal".  It just seems ludicrous to spend tax dollars on a poorly resurfaced road, so poorly resurfaced that the prisoners are out filling holes within a month.  At least if the holes would have been patched before the resurfacing, they would be less likely to experience the freeze and thaw cycle that will get into the cracks of the layers and pit out the potholes all over again. 

Or maybe I am just cynical....

Ode to Cimarron, Dedicated to my Brother Daniel

Ode to Cimarron

 

Family tree, oh family tree!

Your roots run very deep.

They've been in this northern New Mexican soil

longer than any other tree still standing.

Your branches twist and sway in the winds.

but your leaves do not blow away.

What has the loco wind done to you, Tree?

Your branches have wound round and round.

Where once there were two, now there is one.

Where once there were three, now there is one?

From your leaves caught up in your basket of branches,

new branches appear and appear and appear.

 

 

This poem has been inspired over and over and over again.  I have helped to teach religious ed classes for work, and in nearly every class, there are cousins.  Most any day talking to anyone about anyone, I hear, "Oh that's my auntie," or "He's my cousin."  One of the older women introduced herself to me as a cousin, technically my father-in-law's cousin or second cousin or something.  At the funeral for our neighbors' father this weekend, she was there, and Marie told me she is the sister of the deceased.  My Tio Tony commented after the funeral that around here, everyone is related to everyone.  It kind of makes you wonder....

My Little Go-Cart

I didn't get my driver's license until I was almost 18 years old.  I didn't have money for a car; I didn't want to have to pay for insurance (we paid for our own insurance in my family); and I certainly got out of having to drive my younger siblings around.  I got my learner's permit right away and promptly introduced hot coffee into my dad's lap when I trounced on the brake...a father's right of passage, yes?

 

I received my first car as a gift to me and my friend Mary at Thanksgiving of 2001.  We shared Ganesha, an old '85 Toyota Camry, for five years before gifting her to a friend of Mary's who was more mechanically knowledgeable and could maintain her in her old age.  We bought a car together after that, and it wasn't until August 2008 that I bought my very own car, an old '96 Honda Civic - much to Thomas's lament as he has spent some time under the hood and recently replaced the muffler.

 

That wonderful trip a couple of months ago to the farm that grew 5,000 pounds of garlic scarred my car, affectionately called Pita (meaning little pea, not the bread).  The "driveway" to the farm was terribly rutted, and though I mastered the ruts and rocks on the way there, I caught a rock and killed my muffler as we were trying to get home.  We heard the thunk and knew it wasn't good, but when the jeep behind us along that stretch of highway caught up to us at a highway junction, they hollered that an animal was hanging out of the exhaust pipe.  I couldn't imagine what had crawled into the exhaust pipe for asphyxiation, but Thomas saw it first.  It looked more like horse hair or a wig.  There was a young boy who seemed a little off at the farm who we thought might have pulled a prank on us, but the "hair" continued to come out in gobs.  The insulation in the muffler was what it really was.  After it seemed to have finished shedding, I stopped checking to see if there was more to throw away.  One day my father-in-law's "cousin" stopped by the parish office and asked me what was coming out of my muffler.  I told her I needed to get the muffler replaced, and she asked if the two feet of "string" coming out was to remind me.  That's one way to look at it!

Poor Pita has been driving a little irregularly since then, though still running and still super fuel efficient.  I admit that Pita's emissions are probably not great, which might cancel out the environmental achievement of over 40 mpg.  The other drawback has been the additional noise, which some people actually pay money to alter their car to sound like mine.  I didn't really hear it, but Thomas said it sounded like a go cart.  The animals noticed.  Deer and elk would usually not run from the familiar sound of a car, but stop, cock their heads, and stare at me approaching and driving away.  Really peculiar!  The cows, however, would run, no - sprint, away from me as I approached.  To see a cow run like that is really a funny sight, especially when I am nowhere near them.  Anyway, Pita made it to Villanueva, Albuquerque and Denver, but enough was enough.  Thomas ordered the parts and installed the new muffler on Friday. 

I have noticed that the animals are responding differently to the new muffler.  Just last night a big white/gray owl swooped down and probably thought Pita was just a big mouse or something because she's so quiet now.  Or maybe it was something else...

Playing in the Dirt

I might just be the luckiest girl in Colfax County..... I have been putting in really long hours at the office, and it turned out that by Tuesday, October 26th, I had already fulfilled a full month of hours. So I spent most of Thursday - Sunday with my husband. This after a week of spending only 13 hours with him from Sunday - Saturday was welcome by me!

I had been pestering Thomas to help me get a patch of earth turned over for our garden patch. He and Pop have been messing with the tractor and getting it ready, but here I had a few days to work at home, and I was ready! Friday morning we went to see Pop and the tractor. After many adjustments they decided it was ready. Pop drove the tractor over and started plowing. He plowed and plowed and plowed. With every pass the soil relented more and more. It was mostly a grassy-ish patch, but there is no telling when it may have actually been cultivated before. While Pop plowed, I cultivated and cleaned up a little patch with irises and baby evergreens. I broke up a bunch of bark from our firewood pile and made a lovely mulch around them (and a lovely mess of splinters in my hands).

A glimpse of my work and the wood piles in the background.

Pop called it a day after working so hard, and next up I took his tiller up and down the edge of garden closest to the house...where I hoped to plant garlic over the weekend.

Saturday we felt exhausted and had a day of rest. Pop didn't. He worked some more on the tractor and took off the front attachment, liberating the Ford from a lot of extra weight and making it easier to maneuver.

Sunday afternoon the fun began again! Thomas went to get the tractor with the attachment that helps make rows. We changed our plans slightly, but the effect was right.

That's my husband out riding around on the Ford.

And that's ME!!! Thomas taught me how to drive tractor!

This view looks north. An irrigation ditch runs north along the left/west side of the "patch," and another runs east along the far/northern edge. It is 125 feet by 30 feet.

After our tractor work was finished, I set about to planting garlic....roughly 300 cloves! There are several varieties. Some will be for pickling next fall, some will be for eating, and some will be seed to plant next year! I am pretty excited...

I did it!

I voted...in a polling place!  It's sort of not as magical once you do it, but I'll admit that I was excited about it.  I had visions of red, white, and blue striped curtains, getting an "I voted" sticker, and a fog machine that made it seem really mysterious and secretive about what you were doing in the booth.  I also expected various contraptions and levers and hanging chads.  Boy was I wrong on all accounts!

 

I registered to vote in Oregon when I turned 18 in the summer of 95.  I voted in my first election from Spokane, WA, and then my second, third and fourth.  I voted my fifth election in Oregon from Jersey City, New Jersey.  I don't remember if I switched my voter registration my first year or second year in Denver (I didn't switch my license until my second year).  But in all those elections for Oregon, I mailed my ballot in.  Even after I registered in Colorado, I still chose to do mail-in ballots because I typically worked 8:30 am - 9:00 pm on Tuesdays.  I heard so much about the long lines and waits to vote in person, generally didn't have a car at my disposal to connect the dots of home, work, and polling place, and always enjoyed being able to sit at home with my information and ballot and "complete the line" (Colorado's method of filling in the circle).

 

So yep, today was my first time going to a polling place.  I was off to a rough start when my father-in-law told me I go to Luna Community College, but my card says I go to the Springer Town Hall.  My alarm went off this morning right as they began reading the polling places for Colfax County, and it was confirmed on the radio that Springer Town Hall is not a polling place.   I left home with my sample ballot in hand;  Thomas and I had a good discussion about the ballot with the help of the League of Women Voters last night.  So sample ballot and my ID, along with everything I would need for a day at the office, like a Christmas Tree, piled into the car and headed into the sunrise.

 

I cruised past the Town Hall and all the empty parking spaces, not even a bike on a rack.  Guess I need to write the newly elected Secretary of State about fixing the polling place listing online and on registration cards.  I rounded the corner and headed to the community college a block away.  It, too, looked pretty dead.  I wound my way around the block to the backside and saw three cars in a parking lot.  Then I notice the little yellow triangle along the driveway that read "VOTE HERE" in 18 point font and the paper on one of the building doors that also read "VOTE HERE VOTE HERE" in 18 point font....not exactly large enough when you're driving the 25 mph speed limit.  I parked, walked in and down the hallway, and turned into the classroom/polling room.  Three small cardboard booths with no curtains lined one wall, a big table in the middle of the room had some papers on it, including a stack of sample ballots (maybe people like to practice filling in the circles before the official one?).  One girl sat in the far corner, and three others sat behind a table.  I handed the lady my ID.  She found my name on the list, right below Alice, Daniel, Julie, Mike, and Thomas.  Julie had already been through.  I signed my name as she told the guy next to her "382".  He wrote 382 on a slip of paper and handed it to me.  The next guy handed me the ballot and said the pencils were in the booths.

 

There were no curtains, no patriotic music in the background, no fog machine....  It was a bit of a let down.  I didn't even get a sticker.  I filled in my bubbles and looked around.  The girl in the corner said to stick my ballot in a machine with a feeder tray - a scantron of sorts.  She took the slip of paper that said "382", what I thought would be my only souvenir of the momentous first time voting in a booth instead of an armchair.  I walked out, got in my car, and headed to work.  Now it's just feels like any other day of the week.....