Christmas 2009

Our first Christmas, in our new home, started two days early with the building of this fire.

 

Which helped us realize that one of our gifts was a fire screen.  Thanks Grandma! After opening the gift, we  sat around the fire and drank (spiked and non-spiked) hot chocolate with the kids. We enjoyed our first Christmas gift.

Its so pretty!

________________________________________________________

On Christmas morning the kids opened their gifts from Santa. Once Casi opened hers (a cell phone) this is all we saw.

Tanners gift from Santa was snowboarding gear and a letter from Santa. The letter spoke of how, this year, Nate was Santas little helper. Explaining why Tanner kept seeing the snowboard out in the garage.

 The letter also asked Tanner to go in his room to find a gift Santa put there.

 I think Tanner liked it.

Tanner spent the rest of Christmas morning (before we headed to Logan) playing with Legos.

Oh,  I got this!!!!

A REAL coffee maker! I can make a whole  12 cups of coffee now!

Christmas Bird Count (CBC) 2009

I have been so bad at posting lately. I havent felt much like writing. The fact that I have tried to write is obvious since there are 10 almost blank posts in my "edit posts" box.

The CBC and I have a love hate relationship! Its freaking cold. I don't like the cold. It has taken me Nate two years to purchase enough gear; so I don't shiver all day long.  Ski pants, long johns, 100% wool, scarf wide enough to cover the lower half of your face, hat with ear covers, ski gloves attached to your coat (so you can pull them off and on all day long as you need to flip through a book or look at a map), and boots-water proof and insulated. This year, however, it was practically Bikini weather"; reaching almost 40 degrees mid day. My fingers and toes reached the level of warm after the first hour. I didn't shiver once. I still wore all of my gear, even with the higher temperatures.


So "Why would you want to go out and count birds?" This question was asked by my mother in law and I think its a good question.*


* I also felt this question a few days later as I geared up for a romp in the "wilderness" with my good friend Erin. The low for that day was -2 F, so I don't blame all the questioning looks. I hope to post on that experience later.

It is answered a bit over here where I state:

"The CBC  is an essential part of conservative efforts; providing scientists with 109 years of data regarding bird population fluctuations, migration, northward range extensions, and declining species."  

Kind of a bland statement, but what I am trying to say is that the CBC is a citizen science project.  Meaning, I get to go out and gather data for real live scientist to use. Now, knowing that the CBC data is used for science is a great big fuzzy hug for me but, thats not really why I do it.Which brings me to my next quote from me. Originally posted here.

"... birding is not just about the birds. Birding is an experience with nature."

Which is the real reason why I enjoy the CBC. It helps me get outside during a time when I don't like to; during the cold months of winter.

_________________________________________________________________

A short review of the days counts (12/19/2009):


We started out our day at 8:00 am** at the Jordan River Parkway near 2320 S. Here we observed 40 of the 51 species counted. These included Borrows Goldeneye, Buffleheads, Ruddy ducks, and a surprise from a very vocal Kingfisher. We walked for 2.5 hours at this location. The only downer was the removal of a large section of Russian olive trees where I was hoping to see Spotted Towhees, White-crowned Sparrows, and a billion European Starlings.***  Due to the reclaiming of this area, these species were not seen. I was disappointed, even though I know the area will be better for the birds. So in about 50 -150 years... it will be REALLY cool!


** Rather late, really, after hearing that some of the other groups started the night before at 11:30 pm (the count goes from 12:00 am to 11:59 PM; giving 24 hours of counting. Now theres the crazy people!
*** I may be overstating this number a bit.

Our next stop was Decker Lake, an important area that provides shoreline for shorebirds. The water level of the lake was a bit higher than I normally see providing less shore area. Meaning the shorebird numbers were lower and  adding only ONE greater yellow legs, to our list, and no sandpipers. 12 species were observed here.


We then headed to the Stonebridge Golf course area. Veiwing it from 4646s (IHC building) and from the Discover card and Ingenix building parking lot areas. We saw A LOT of Canada geese (772), a Hooded Merganser, 3 Cackling geese, and one Thayer's gull in a group of 299 Ringed-billed gulls; for a total of 19 species.


After the Stonebridge area we went for lunch before heading to the last two areas along the Jordan River Parkway. We still had not seen the Spotted Towhees and White-crowned Sparrows. Two easy birds for our area.


We stopped at the Jordan River parkway along 4700 S and headed south.  Here we saw 23 species including many Yellow-rumped Warblers, a Marsh wren, 3 song sparrows, a Hermit Thrush, and a MERLIN! The first Merlin I have ever seen in Utah. We worked really hard to find the Spotted Towhees and White-crowned Sparrows, and also California Quails and Ringed-neck Pheasants here but never saw them. Due to this, we decided to check another area along the Jordan River Parkway; 4100 S.  We arrived with about an hour of daylight left. Counting 112 Canada geese, one Merlin flew over head, 10 California Quail, and also our Nemesis birds: the Spotted Towhees and White-crowned Sparrows were seen; for a total of 14 species at this last stop.

Accepting a gift

My Grandmother must have made many memories sledding, I thought, as she handed me the Flexible Flyer III. It was an awkward experience receiving her gift.

We were cleaning out her garage. Collecting donations for Cassidy's trip to Italy. The sled stood in the corner. I never asked for it. I did not want it.

When we were done, she walked over and touched it. Then picked it up and handed it to me. "Its silly that I have kept this. Its never been used. Its a good sled. Don't sell it."

Well, perhaps, those where not her exact words but I could see the sled meant something to her so, I accepted her gift,  even though I did not want the gift and it was given with strings attached. She wanted to make sure it had a good home.

Since then we have used the sled many times. Like Here and Here*.  Looking back, I think she knew what she was giving, even though I did not.

*The last "here" will take you to one of my most googled web page and includes graphs --Oh, how I love graphs!

Tanner appreciating a view.
Taken at Dimple Dell after an evening of single track sledding on a Flexible Flyer III

I received a gift poorly. Once. It was a rocking chair.

I was pregnant with Casi and emotional as all hell.**

** I will deny this if asked, but ask anyone else, who knew me at that time, and they will tell you what is probably the truth.

My mom wanted to give me a rocking chair for Christmas. She searched for one within her price range over the span of many weeks. She found one at Pier 1 Imports with a defect that my father could fix. She excitedly bargained down the price and brought it home.

I unwrapped the gift and thanked her but, my expression must have shown my true feelings. Eventually, I told her I did not like the gift.

I  know my Mom has forgiven me. I still feel terrible.

I have accepted many unwanted gifts before (and after) the rocking chair incident. I think I can accept a gift well.

I read Cannery Row by John Steinbeck while I was in college.

A book that depicts life in a depressed fishing town in California. The story of the owner of a chinese grocery, ladies of the night,  a household of grown-up delinquents, and other assorted characters coming together to give Doc a birthday party.

The books worst critics say Cannery Row has no plot.

Within its definition, plot, is concerned with how events are related, how they are structured, and how they enact change in the major characters of the book. Perhaps, Cannery Row has no plot but it did enact a change within one of its readers.  Like the incident with the rocking chair, it showed me the beauty and importance of accepting a gift.

And so, at this time of year I often think of the importance of giving gifts but also of receiving them.

A blury picture to say, "look-ee what I saw today... IN MY YARD!"

White-throated Sparrow

I was watching a spotted towhee working his way to my feeder.* I like watching these towhees. They are the under lords of the bushes. Large sparrows with red eyes and a devious expression. They twitch their tails. Flashing the white on the outer tips of there tails. Twitch. Twitch. It feels like a warning. They enter the feeder, everything scatters.

I was watching the towhee when,  I saw a small sparrow with dominant crown strips working the edge of the bushes above a rock wall. I thought he was a white-crowned sparrow, a common species to Utah but a new bird for my yard. I  ran for my binoculars and put him under glass. ** The prominent yellow spots above his eyes and bordered white throat patch told me it wasn't a white-crowned but a white-throated sparrow.

*I was suppose to be painting base boards but easily get distracted by my windows. Nate is so patient.
** A European term. It took me a long time to get it into a sentence. Yes, I feel proud of me.

Bird geek information:

The white-throated sparrow spends its summers in northern Canada and his winters east, south, and west of Utah.  They sing "Oh sweet Canada". You can listen to it here . They also have better pictures of the sparrow,  that were probably not taken through a dirty glass window with a hand held camera at 20X zoom.

A bushel and a peck

Have you ever had a song that meant something to you?  I have few songs like that. Some good some bad.

10 songs in my memories

10) Lean on me- sixth grade talent show. Dont judge me! It was an assignment and the whole sixth grade sang together. Thank god!

9) New kids on the block- *Shiver*  A boy sang it to me at Burger King. He had a crush that I did not return. While he sang,  my friends stood behind him laughing as he looked into my eyes and sang with all his heart.

8) I've got friends in low places by Garth Brooks - sang, in a group, drunk, around a campfire with our arms placed on each shoulders. Now who did not do that?

7) The Gambler by Kenny Rogers - will always remind me of my dad, in the garage, singing to an old radio. The smell of grease comes with this memory.

6) Chestnuts roasting over an open fire. As sung by my mother as we drove home from Grandma Nielson's Christmas Eve. I will never have a Christmas without feeling the warmth of my mother voice in that song or the desires to sing it (usually, out of tune).

5)

4)

3)

2) A bushel and a peck - as sung by my Grandpa Nielson. He used to sing it to me. I would always get embarrassed. I think that is why he kept doing it. He is such a tease.

1) A bushel and a peck - as sung by me to my kids.  I only remembered one or two lines of the song so I made up my own words. I am not very creative but over time it evolved into our song.

The version sung in Guys and Dolls.

I love you, a bushel and a peck!
A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck!
A hug around the neck, and a barrel and a heap
A barrel and a heap, and I'm talkin' in my sleep.
About you.
About you!
About you!
My heart is leapin'!
I'm having trouble sleepin'!
'Cause I love you, a bushel and a peck
You bet your pretty neck I do!
Doodle, oodle, oodle.
Doodle, oodle, oodle.
Doodle oodle oodle oo.
I love you, a bushel and a peck
A bushel and a peck, go and beats me all to heck!
Beats me all to heck how I'll ever tend the farm
Ever tend the farm when I want to keep my
Arms - about you -
About you!
About you!
The cows and chickens
are goin' to the dickens!
'Cause I love you a bushel and a peck
You bet your pretty neck I do -

Doodle oodle oodle
Doodle oodle oodle
Doodle oodle oodle, oo! 

Origins

2009 is the 150th anniversary of the publication of On the Origin of Species (24 November 1859) and the 200th anniversary of Darwin's birth (12 February 1809).

I have hundreds of images in my head. Red balloon-chested frigatebirds soaring overhead, a playful vermilion flycatcher putting on a show as we hiked a wooded trail,  and brightly colored sally lightfoot crabs climbing around on dark lava rocks full of marine iguanas, pictures of giant Galapagos land turtles creeping about or lolling in a muddy green pond, an Espanola mockingbird pecking at my water bottle, pilot whales splashing in the ocean, and a bright yellow mangrove warbler bouncing around on branches inches away. These are excerpts from my memories; a trip to the Galapagos Islands.

It was a celebration of marriage, a passion for the outdoors, and a respect and love of Darwin's discoveries brought forth in the publication of the Origins of species that brought Nate and I to these islands.  A book that changed the world when it was published in England over 150 years ago. A book that has been claimed as "the most important book ever written". A book, and a man, that altered how scientist look at the natural world and continues to frame biological research today. In celebration of Darwins accomplishments, I want to share some of my memories of my trip to these islands.

A favorite memory, is the dancing and diving blue-footed boobies. Either to attract a mate, or courting one, a male booby will raise one brilliantly colored web foot and then the other. There was no question that he was proud of his most distinguishing feature. When there was a pair together, they would touch their large bills together and strut around with their tails pointed to the sky.

The blue-footed boobies would fish near the shore. On one morning, Nate and I stood on a beach and watched a couple of dozen of them dive in unison – over and over again. They would lift off together after a dive, circle a time or two from a height of 50 to 75 feet or so, then point their bills downward, fold their wings in tight and splash down. Disappearing for a few seconds beneath the water before bobbing back up; with or without a fish.  Then they would do it all over again. I watched in fascination while Nate snapped pictures; trying to document the intesity of which they fished. We were reluctant to leave.

Another favorite memory was the moment I fell in love with the naked lava fields of a young island.  Each of the Galapagos islands begin life as a blank black canvas of lava; slowly painted by drifters of sea and air. I walked across one of these black canvases of only 700,000 years. Fernandina, was nothing more than a flat expanse of black lava. A large volcano loomed off in the distance; so far away it appeared almost a part of mist and sky. A few pioneer plants sparsely littered the hard crusted lava feild;  taken root in a small crease where wind had, perhaps, blown in earth from the mainland.


As we continued, we saw pockets of wetlands, formed from collapsed lava tubes, within an abundance of life would bloom. These holes, surrounded by green plant life, were centered with a clear blue, shallow pond. A world within a world containing the soft pinks of Greater flamingos, the graceful white of snowy egrets, the bold and cheerful yellow of mangrove warblers, and floating white-checked pintails. A young island who's story is just beginning.

  Other favorite memories are a sea lion's playful attack, White-tipped sharks appearing out of know where to only disappear shortly there after, a sea turtle slowly glides by,  swimming with a flightless cormorant, and amazing views where the deep blue color of sky and ocean meet black lava. A place where you can imitating a blue footed boobies mating dance, lifting one foot after the other, only to have it repeat it back to you,  listen to Lava gulls echo locate, and wait for the silvery flash of a flying fish. .The Galapagos is an interactive world where everything happens in close-up detail; where every curiosity is within reach.


The Galapagos are amazing islands but evolution did not stop with the writing of Origins by Charles Darwin.  It is still happening  today and it has been documented by scientists everywhere. My favorite account, is of  two scientist, natural selection through changing weather patterns, a finch species, over thirty years of reaserch, and a desert island in the heart of the Galapagos.*  You can read their account in The Beak of a Finch: A Story of Evolution in Our Time. Its full of sciency stuff without getting too dry. Another story is a warbler species who is changing from its parent population due to bird feeders.** This change been observed through changing migratory patterns, changing DNA, and measurable physical changes. This story can be read here, but its harder to read since it is written in conversation form.*** The last account, I wanted to share, I can not remember**** but it was a really cool story about a bird in South America.  Well thats my spill for the day..... I best be off to work.


*No this is no the beginning of a joke.


** Thats right, bird feeders.


*** but its shorter and you do not have to go to the library or purchase it off Amazon (or borrow it from me) to read it.


**** I hate forgetting. It sucks!

Things I overheard: An explorers perspective

Me: "When tanner gets home, we are going some where. You will not complain."

Casi: "Where are we going?"

Me: "You will know soon enough."

Me: "Get your shoes and socks on. Dress warm. Its the last day of 44 degree weather this week. I want to go on a hike."

Me: "Do you feel this?"

Casi: "What?"

Me: "How we feel right now. Do you feel it?"

Casi: "Yeah? What about it?" She turns to me and smiles.

Me: "I want you to remember how we feel right now. I want you to remember, this hike, as we are right now."

Things I overheard: A true story

Disclaimer: Literary snobs beware! There is no punctuation and misspellings happen everywhere. Avert your eyes if you cannot handle it. Avert them!

The hantid watr Faootin

bi: Tanner Branhc

the watr faootin is hontid

aaaaa

It is hontid

it icsplodes watr in mi face

Weekly Inspiration

As I drive to work, or the kids to school, or the grocery store, or even if I just walk out my home or look out a window I am inspired by the area I live in. The clouds, the storms, the changing of the leaves, the seasons, the wildlife, and the mountains all play a part; always changing and always inspiring. 

I struggle with a disease. When I started this blog, I thought I would write about it. I thought the blog would allow me to speak about the struggle, the pain, the gravity and hopelessness I feel, at times.  It is a living part of me and should reside here, in this blog. But, I have a hard time writing about it. I hate dwelling, whining, or even thinking about it. Yet it exists, whether I speak about it or not. And even though some days are hard, most days, are not.

Sunset over Dimple Dell Park

New moon: a movie (experience) review

Casi and I at 8:00 am,  Saturday morning, on our way to see New Moon. Casi is very excited to see film in a "I got up way too early" sort of way.

The tickets we purchased included, the movie (of course), breakfast, and a raffle; of which our whole group won! Cyndee won a bag of chocolates, Casi a bottle of O.C.D. (Obsessive Collin Disorder) hand sanitizer (made with love by Cyndee), and I won a smack on the head with Cyndees chocolate as it flew threw the air over a theater of people. Giving me a free headache for the whole movie! Yea, Me!

The biggest disapointment of the movie was Edwards car. Luckily, I was told a month ago, by Cyndee, that my cute C30 was not in New moon. Edward was given a different car. *sob, sigh* Of course,  I was totally disappointed... for at least 2 weeks. I even lost interest in the film.  Since seeing the C30 in action was what I enjoyed most in Twilight.  But, I persevered and went to the movie. During the first scene when Edward parks at the highschool in a sleek black Xc 60 I did not erupt in dissapointment and even smiled when I heard a an adable gasp from Casi sitting next to me. 

Weekly Inspiration

As I drive to work, or the kids to school, or the grocery store, or even if I just walk out my home or look out a window I am inspired by the area I live in. The clouds, the storms, the changing of the leaves, the seasons, the wildlife, and the mountains all play a part; always changing and always inspiring. 

Antelope Island is a place that owns my heart; interlocked with my passions for the environment, birding, and beauty.  Yesterday I went to the Island to see three rare gull species that were seen earlier this week. I did not see any of them. Instead I observed a storm and a small raft of social Bonaparte gulls gracefully play a game of "roll over" as they floated with the currents.

Things I overheard: "Belch"

"Belch". Tanner likes to convert burps into open mouthed, drawn out, rumbly, belches. He can compete with Homer Simpson. I think his lips even rumble; due to the force of the burp coming out of his mouth. This drives me crazy. 


Initially I was proud of his accomplishment. The day  he figured out how to burp. His whole face lite up. I might of even clapped and shouted "yeah!". Of course, he was much younger and his burp was cute and innocent.


But now, he is a belching monster.


"What?" when I give him the displeased mom look. "I had to burp" he says innocently. As if the burping is a method to keep his head from exploding.


I am not a big fan of telling your kids non truths well unless, its for adult comedy. Then its O.K.


So the other day when Tanner walked in the house and gave off this disgusting belch. I lied.


Me: sitting on the couch getting the bird nerd on; reading birders magazine. Without looking up, I said "Tanner, do you like your left hand?" 


Tanner: "What?"


Me: (Still reading the magazine) "Do you like your left hand?"


Tanner: "Yeah?"


Me: (slowly, I turn page of magazine and still don't look up). "Well if you keep burping like that your left hand will fall off!"


Tanner: "What?" Out of the corner of my eye, I witness the look of concern as it blooms on his face.


(Casi, behind tanner, peaks into the room a grin on her face)


Tanner: concerned now, says "but I have to burp sometimes".


Me: (still reading the magazine) "Well, I guess you better get it under control or 'pop!' just like that it will fall off. 


Tanner trudges upstairs deep in thought, Casi and I control giggles, and the burping has stopped (at least for a week or two).


Update: I just learned that Casi elongated the causes of burping to include the "growth of a tentacle that you can not control"

Halloween costumes:2009

A quick post of Halloween pictures; for documentation purposes only...

Casi: The Game of Twister

 

Tanner: Zombie Ninja

The first picture is his hair before we tried to "Mohawk it up". Next year I may try to get him to do an Albert Einstein.The hair and expression in the photo make me think he could pull it off. 

Pumpkins grow on trees.

OK. We went and did the "go out and pick your pumpkin out on the farm" thing. It may have been overratted... well, it could have been the farm we choose...I think. OK. It probably was.

We pulled up to a cute little farm in the middle of Sandy. To the side of the entrance road, pumpkins were neatly arranged in rows alongside young, newly planted fruit trees. Part of me wondered if the pumpkins were even grown at this location yet appreaciated not having to trudge down muddy rows of dying pumpkin plants to find the perfect Jack -O-latern shape. There were a few other families there. Some, like us, wanted pumpkins and searched the rows with their kids. Others wanted fall pictures and were arranging pumpkins and kids; camera in one hand, kid in the other.

Tanner picked out his pumpkin almost immediately. He was so excited to get one home and carve it that he did not care about the artistic nature of choosing a pumpkin. This may have bothered me. I think every decision should be painfully thought about. Options weighed. He also insisted on carrying the 25 lb pumpkin to the wagon  himself. Now I dont know his body weight but I would venture to say that a 25 lb pumkpin is more than half of it. So all I have to say about that is Preeeetttty iimmmmprrrrreeesssive!

The photo of him carrying the pumpkin, makes me wonder if he will one day be a contestant in the Worlds Strongest Man.  If you have not seen this competition; you should. Its quite entertaining and the large bulky men are not so bad either.Hehm. Anyways, check out Tanners picture compared to the strong man. See! He has pretty good form. Oh, and by the way. Tanner does work out.... just ask him.

Casi, as usual, avoided the camera LIKE the PLAGUE! Complaining immediately as we left the truck; seeing I had the camera. I commented (a bit too loudly) that "at least I wasn't forcing her to pose with a pumpkin". Feeling bad for the mother who was still trying to make her kid do just that a few rows over. Then when she found her pumpkin, I suggested she pose with it. Perhaps she "should show her love for your pumpkin and kiss the pumpkin". She declined such silliness with a smirk expression which said "Mom, are we really related?". Tanner then exclaimed that he "would kiss the pumpkin" and I took a picture (not shown).

Eventually, I was able to manipulate this shot. It was taken while her face was turned towards the ground  (the pumpkins are actually on the ground). The image, though, when turned this way makes her  look like a happy, golden-haired, giant excited to consuming tinner pumpkins and that makes me get a smirk expression which means "I think I'm funny".

Once we got the pumpkins home, everyone started carving.Well, except Nate who went to the internet. Casi started work on Frankenstein, Tanner carved bats, and I "did what the pumpkin told me to do" with a crazy, evil (because his eyes had a mean expression), eagle eyed, cigarette smoking personage. Then Nate, once finished with his research, started work on his version of the flaming skull. We all think he won "the award".

* there really was no award**

** unless by "award" we mean "the good candle".

Weekly Inspiration

As I drive to work, or the kids to school, or the grocery store, or even if I just walk out my home or look out a window I am inspired by the area I live in. The clouds, the storms, the changing of the leaves, the seasons, the wildlife, and the mountains all play a part; always changing and always inspiring. 

I want to capture clouds. It seems they always know how to artistically decorate the sky; creating patterns one day and caous the next. Someone once told me that since moving to California, he missed Utah Clouds. "Utah has the best clouds." he stated. I followed his gaze to the sky and agreed.

To counter this, I asked another Utahan native, who has since moved to California, about her experience with the clouds of Cali. I got a scrunched up face and a quizzical expression. Realizing the survey was statistically irrelevant, I believed it anyways. Not because its true but, because its what I want to believe after his statement inspired me look to the sky and realize their value.

The clouds tend to congregate in little cottonwood canyon.

(one day I will get a better picture of this meeting of clouds)

photo taken (94th south looking east) on the way to work after a Halloween parade at Tanners school

Toasty Toes

We took the weekend to the sand dunes.

For the last camping trip

this year.

It was cold.

Casi and I laid on the picnic table.

soaking up what warmth the sun would give.

I said "Tanner, put your shoes and socks on"

(and also shirt and coat)

Too many times.

Today, I spend the weekday.

Home.

with a sick kid.

Letting go

I feel so perplexed by my own feelings. I want to write them down. To sort through them. I want to resolve these feelings. I think writing will help. But writing is so permanent. Do I want to remember? Do I want others to know about them?

I have been enjoying the season of fall in our yard. We have many more trees and the air is colder, crisper, and contains the heavy smell of rotting leaves. There are so, so, so many leaves. The other day Tanner raked a few hundred thousand of them up into a pile; just to jump in.

Symbolically, ironically, but mostly lamely, it seems appropriate that death would happened at such a time; as summer turns to fall.

A death in the family brings distant family members back into our lives. These aunts and cousins share with me their memories of Grandma. I am irritated at them. I feel they know my secret. I think they feel obligated to change my memories. To help me remember. Do my jaded memories distort theirs; warp their truth. I guess in some ways my memories are linked to theirs, but then again perhaps not. Perhaps, the physical distance of where they lived kept them from making new memories over the last few years. The last few years have been hard for those of us that remained close.

I spend most of a week, up late scanning images into a computer to show at the funeral. Images that represent different moments of my Grandma Verdie's* life. I put them into a video; each photo fades into the next. I invite my Mom over. Mom and I watch quietly as the photos pass by. My mothers mom, changes from toddler to adult, mother to grandmother.The series of photos is finished in 2 min and 37 secs; it repeats again. For some reason the duration of the movies time sticks in my head. It is strange that a whole life could go so quickly.

My Mom quietly asks, "How does this person become what she became?"

"I don't know" I respond quietly.

*I love my grandmas name; it means faith and truth. To me though, her name always made me

think of "nature" since it sounds like "birdie**" and reminds me of the color green (due to its similarity to "Verde").

** My grandmother loves birds. She was an avid bird watcher. ***

*** No, sadly, I did not develop my passions for birding from my Grandma. Our passions evolved independent of each other. I owe my passion to a professor at the University of Utah.

The last few years have been hard. In some ways we have grieved the loss of my grandmother for many years, as she slowly pulled herself away. For some reason she was unable to share herself. I wonder if I should have tried harder. Sometimes I blame myself for where our relationship ended.

I sat at the funeral and watched as others cry. I start to cry because I was not. I wanted to miss something too. I want to remember something that we did together. Remember the love I know she felt for me. Anything. A look. A sentence she stated. A moment of her and I. I dug deeper into my past. Looking for the memories. The memories my distant cousins remember; Christmas eves, pies, new potatoes and peas, gardening... I need to remember my Grandma, the Grandma who loved her grand babies, who loved me, so I can let her go...

Don't let bad jeans ruin a good day!

I sat at our computer, sulking over my coffee and reading anything, I found slightly interesting, on the internet. I was trying to find the energy to go to work. The room I sat in was dark and cold. For me, nothing existed outside the small halo of light produced by the computer screen and I planned to keep it that way. I was trying to hold time still.

Looking for something new to read. Something else to distract the obligations. The immediate checklist that enters my mind upon waking; work, kids, home. I remembered a website I used to visit almost daily. At one time. With the energy of indifference I typed in the address: www.utahbirds.org Clicked on the link for recent (and at times exciting) bird sightings with in the state of Utah, then slowly sifted through the headings:

October and Hummingbirds, Photo of the Rose-breasted Grosbeak in Dugway, Stilt Sandpiper, Yellow-bellied Flycatcher @ Garr Ranch, Rose-breasted Grosbeak at Dugway, Stilt Sandpipers Continue, Lee Kay Ponds, Four days of birding in Utah Co. (no uncommon birds), YELLOW-BELLIED FLYCATCHER, Washington Co. birds,Goldfinch.

Finally, I felt motivated. I jumped up from my seat, hurriedly put on shoes and shocks, and started grabbing gear. Scope. Check. Binoculars. Check. Camera. Check. Sibley. Check. Coat. Check. Scarf. Check. Gloves. Check. Hat. Check. I tossed item after item into a pile at the front door, then dragged the two armload's to the car before heading to work.

Tangent: The reason I was having a hard time getting to work is because I am getting fat.

Nested Tangent: O.k. I know I am not fat but, I am getting bigger ...in a good way?Curvier. Round-ier. Hippier. Breast-ier. All good, really because, I'm getting my body back (its been missing for 12 years- another story.) I will not miss "pre-pubescent boy" body. But (and its a big "BUT"!) my clothes no longer fit. Which means, I spend most of my days sucking "it" all in since my "fat" pants are a bit too tight; pushing my belly fat out over the rim of my pants into a great wall of blubber. This "great wall of blubber" circles, like a tire tube, around the middle ... of me. I hate this feeling. Its miserable.

OK where was I? Oh yea. I am getting fat. So last night when I went to Kohl's to buy Tanner clothes, I bought some too. I will admit it took me a while to get up the energy to do it. You see Kohl's has a history with my family. Their clothes suck. The quality is terrible. They shrink, come un-stitched, and they don't handle washing. So when I go to Kohl's (for Tanners clothes only- We love the Tony Hawk clothing line) I don't look at clothes for me. I don't want to be tempted. But, after spending 3 months sucking in the old fatty tire that hangs in the middle ... of me, I was tempted and wandered through my section. Touching. Looking. Searching for a new pair of pants. Something that will make me feel better about this new body.

I know, you still don't know where I am going with this. I will try to get to it but first I have to tell you about my personal history with jeans.

I have a testimony. A testimony of pants and the dollar. You see, for me, the quality of jeans is strongly correlated to the amount you pay (figure 1). I have seen this correlation. I am witness to it. I am a strong believer having spent the majority of my life in bad pants but, I am also a desperate woman without time to go find a great pair of pants... and I was at Kohl's. I was determined to end the discomfort of fatty me with the next size up and a new pair of jeans.

So there I was sitting in front of the computer with one of the two pair of jeans, that I bought, on my body. I could feel the scratchy material against my legs, the lack of support against my bottom; the material having too much lycra would not make it past hour 2. I hated the idea of leaving the house in these pants.

Don't mock me. I know you all have felt the power of great pants. Pants that feel so good you do not ever want to take them off. Pants that you look forward to wearing. Pants you hate to give up to the Laundry basket and only do the day before laundry day. I will stop now, before I start sounding like a Levi's commercial but understand I love a great pair of pants and that these new pants were not such pants. Having only paid 20% of what I paid for my last pair, I knew they would never fit into that category. I knew it at the check stand when I bought them and I knew it, sitting at that computer that morning as I tried to get motivated to leave the house because once I did I could not return the crappy jeans.

Finally founding a distraction, carried everything out to the car, and left for work. Work? Why work? This has to do with the rotation of the planets. Doesn't everything?

Essentially, it was too early and too cold to go birding. It was 6 in the morning on a chilly fall day which for a birder equates to, "I might as well go to work". So I went to work. Hoping to get in a few hours of paid time before I headed to Glover ponds (near Farmington Bay).

By 9:50 am I was, once again, headed out the door. I headed to the... gas station. I needed gas, food, and drink. But then, I was on my way. The sky was clear. It was a perfect day. I may have sang out of tune to the radio as I drove. I was very excited to be out (even in terrible jeans). As I neared the exit to Glover ponds however, the weather changes. The sky darkens and it begins to rain. In seconds there is torrential downpour and I can barley see as I take the exit off the freeway*.

* a very common occurrence as you near the Great Salt Lake.

Within a few minutes I am sitting across from Glover ponds trying to see through the rainy haze for a small, long legged bird. The window to my car is open and I watch as the rain hits the window sill, rebounds up, down, hits the window sill again before it streams down the door and into the car. I was getting wet and I was not seeing the bird I was looking for or even the yellow legs* that it was described as "hanging" with. I have an hour before I should go back to work and so I waited.

* The term Yellow legs refers to two species of birds with long yellow legs and a long thin dark bill. The body is grey brown on top and white underneath; the neck and breast are streaked with dark brown and the tail is white. Both breed in the Boreal forest; migrating through Utah in the spring and fall. Both also forage in shallow water using their bill to stir up insects, small fish and crustaceans.

They are also not each others closest relatives. The lesser yellow legs closets relative is the much larger and quite dissimilar Willet (Pereira & Baker, 2005) due to the patterns demonstrated during breeding. The Greater Yellow legs is related to the Greenshank and Spotted Redshank.

After about 30 minutes the rain stopped; the sun immediately parted the clouds, the sky turned blue, and I heard the sounds of yellow legs; in sync with the weather change. I opened my car door and stepped out to get my spotting scope. The reading I had done, as the rain fell, recited in my head. "Seems structurally similar to yellow legs but more curvaceously lined. Dowitcher shaped but not Dowitcher plump. The bill thicker than yellow legs and decidedly down dropped near the end. Vestigial barring on sides. Tends to forage in open water with Dowitchers; the Yellowlegs in deeper water. Moves deliberately, does not probe like a Dowitcher, or dunk its head like a Yellowlegs. " The easiest way to ID this bird from similar species is to use "GISS". A funny birding term that means "General impression of size and shape". Its coloring, speckling, striping, leg length, bill shape, ect would not be helpful."Yeah", I thought sarcastically as prepped the spotting scope, "a slam dunk".

I scanned the small pond and noted the large group of Dowitchers at the back of the pond and the smaller group of yellow legs at the shore closest to me. I then noted a long-legged sandpiper to the right of the Yellow legs; and in shallower water. I placed the scope on that bird. Immediately noted the vestigial stripping, the thicker bill, shape-lier outline, and droopy bill. I was looking a Stilt Sandpiper; my target bird. I spent the remaining 30 min studying the Stilts characteristics against the yellow legs and dowitchers. Before I left, I noted my new jeans, now wet and dirty from the rain and muddy roads, would stay in my closet. And, I still hated them.