It's the Simple Things

There are so many small things that make living and working in a small town such a unique experience.  It should seem normal to me, I suppose, coming from rural Indiana (because despite some differences, a small town is a small town), but I've realized that experiencing life as a child/high schooler is very different from experiencing it as an adult.  I also don't feel like our family was involved in Reynolds town happenings to the extent that I am here.

So here's life in Green River:

I live 2 minutes away from everything except the Subway and Arby's out at the other end of town (about 5 minutes).  I drove there the other day and seriously felt myself thinking "ugh, this is so far".  Hmm.  A little perspective, Amber.  Ironically, I live closer to a grocery store (a small one) than I ever have before.  I once left my house at 4:54, grabbed a couple of things at the Melon Vine, and made it to Ray's Tavern right at 5:00, in time to beat everyone else to dinner.  Which is better, living further from a plethora of things, or living closer to the essentials?  I guess they both have their pros and cons. 

I usually make a game out of trying to get somewhere without putting on my seat belt, which I believe dings after about a minute.  It hardly ever works, but I'm usually still too stubborn to put it on.  Unfortunately, I believe the dinging of my car is exceptionally annoying.

You'll find any number of interesting vehicles on the road in Green River, and I use the term "vehicle" pretty loosely.  I've seen ATV's, lawn mowers, scooters...

In case you thought I was joking...

In Indiana, farmers do the two-finger wave on the back roads, but here, everyone just waves to everyone in town when they drive past.  Green Riverites' vehicle recognition game is pretty strong, and there's kind of a visibile "car culture" is because of its current role and history as a traveler's stopping point.  It's so much like Radiator Springs from Cars that part of me is convinced the writers drew inspiration from here.  If you combine that movie and McFarland, USA (that is not a racist joke, just the truth), you've pretty much got Green River.   

There are so many things that happen in small towns that just wouldn't happen anywhere else... I once rode down main street in the back of Justin's truck (in a skirt) holding onto an electric organ because his tailgate doesn't close. We've also shoved a large canoe and a kayak in the back of that truck, which unfortunately fell off in the middle of the street and almost pulled his truck over.  Apparently our ratchet strap skills aren't up to snuff.  

Yes, those are go carts.  That's Doreen, her husband, and her daughter Cassidy, and they're pretty great.

People, including myself, also park on the wrong side of the street all the time (and just generally wherever they want) because I just don't think parking tickets are a thing here. Since many of the streets don't have sidewalks, we usually just walk (or rollerblade) in the middle of them. 

Many people here don't have emails, and if they do, they have terrible email etiquette.  The best way to get a hold of someone is probably calling or dropping by, and the best way to advertise for something is hanging up flyers in the post office, Chow Hound, and the grocery store.  Coming from a large university where technology and efficiency are key, I experienced a bit of a culture shock when I realized that Justin had to text or call all the parents if they had to move soccer practice (this process is extra inefficient because Justin refuses to get a smart phone... right now he actually has no phone at all, much to his enjoyment and Hope and I's dismay).

That dropping by thing also happens pretty often during the work day.  People just come and chat for awhile.  It's great if it's someone I'd like to form a relationship with, but increasingly less tolerable the less that's the case.  I love people, but I'm pretty task oriented.  This also shows up when Hope chats to me about something across our desks and I (unintentionally, of course) find myself nodding and going "mhmm" while not really listening at all.  This unfortunate role in my life is usually filled by Andrea, and I imagine she's probably glad for a break. 

And of course, everyone here knows everyone. Even I, who have only been here for 3 months, can't go many places at all without knowing someone. Justin and Hope (or sometimes me) drop the kids off at the end of Afterschool, and Justin knows not only where all the children live, but also their grandmother, aunt, cousin, step-uncle's sister's ex-husband... ok, not really.  But it is handy that he has a couple of back-up plans if their parents aren't home, which happens far more than it should. 

I think it's so easy to get caught up in the idea that I can't relate with people in this western, outdoor-and-hunting-focused, poor small town.  That once someone has gone to a university, lived in a city, or seen some of the world it's just too difficult to spend time those who haven't.  But one of my favorite things about Green River is the cross-economic and cultural friendships that I've seen.  Some of the most well-known and liked people in town are also those who need to visit the food pantry from time to time, and I think that's pretty cool.           

When I was living in Lafayette, I definitely thought, "There's no way I could ever move back to a town like Reynolds".  Of course there are always frustrations, but I'm finding that a small town fits my personality pretty well.  Don't misunderstand me, I'm not planning to move back to Reynolds.  I do, however, love a small community with its opportunities to get to know people and wear a lot of hats.  I love that the definition of a fun weekend is a hike, movie, community meal, and a campfire.  It may not seem so, but it's possible to have a "real life" in the middle of nowhere, it just requires some priority adjustment.  

Pied Pipers of Pests

One of the downsides of living in the desert is the number of interesting creatures that make themselves a part of your daily life.  It's like nature is saying, "It's the desert. You don't belong here, and we're just going to invade your living space".

I wouldn't have considered myself particularly afraid of mice, but I have discovered how much I incredibly dislike them living in my house or seeing them scamper across the floor.  I scream every time.  Hope, my roommate, hates mice.  HATES mice.  So when we discovered them, we went on a mouse killing spree.  At first, she tried to buy those nice traps that I guess just lock the mouse inside so you don't have to deal with the messiness of getting rid of their body.  Well, those didn't work.  If you ever have to deal with mice in your house, just go for the real thing right away... good old fashioned snap traps. We caught two in right in a row with that deadly combination of peanut butter and swift precision.  However, getting rid of their dead bodies from those traps is pretty much the worst thing ever. Just spend the extra $1.50 to get a new set. 

There are any number of large bugs crawling around these parts, so I've gotten pretty used to that.  Beetles, cockroaches, and crickets are everywhere.  One night I had the misfortune of sharing my room with a cricket, and it's chirping kept me awake for at least a half hour before I finally determined to catch/kill it.  Turns out that's pretty difficult, and I lost another half hour of sleep dancing around my room trying to uncover and outsmart this cricket.  I finally trapped it under a glass and left it there to slowly die.  Is Utah making me more morbid?  Possibly.  It's the raw, primal wild west.  (;

What even is that?!? It's like a butterfly mated with a bumblebee.  You never know what you'll find hiking in the desert.

Our office at the community center seems to attract an inordinate number of flies.  My whole body tingles when a fly buzzes in my ear, but apparently some people don't mind them.  Like Justin.  He'll just sit there and let them crawl all over him,  (I think it's relevant to mention here that Justin's dream job is a monk).  So when Hope and I take turns going on killing rampages (I'm not even over-dramatizing that), the flies seem to know that he's a safe zone. 

Just a typical day in the office

They're not pests per se, but I couldn't go without mentioning the Green River pack of dogs- or several packs, really- that run around disturbing slumber and sanity with their barking and antics.  Some are strays, some have owners, it really doesn't matter.  Most of them are evil.  They're all small dogs too, which makes it worse.  One evening a group of 6 or so chased me an entire block on my bike, yapping at my tire and making a whole lot of racket.  It was annoying of course, but the worst part was wondering if they would ever actually leave me or whether I would have to resort to more extreme measures.

This picture represents Green River in a lot of ways.  But just look at all those dogs!

And even though it's the desert, living by a river means there are the ever-present mosquitoes which definitely disrupt my evening bike rides.

On the positive side, I guess you would just call these run-ins with pests character building experiences.  And lest I'm making it sound like this isn't a place you would ever want to come, it's still worth it.  (:

Cooking Class

Picture standing behind a counter top as 10 or so children come running in the door, all demanding a snack and yelling about something or another.  You remind them for the thousandth time that they have to hang up their bags and wash their hands first.  They then proceed to complain about the snack that they were previously demanding, probably because it contains a vegetable (oh the horror) and there are wheat crackers instead of white crackers.  You've imagined my life now, or at least part of it.

Now that I've been here a couple of months, I've obviously gotten a lot deeper into my work (which I love, by the way... most of the time).  Just one part is teaching cooking classes on Tuesdays to elementary-aged youth of the town as part of the Afterschool program that PACT, my non-profit, offers.  In addition to that, I also take care of their snack every day after school, and most days it really just feels like I have 10-15 rambunctious children.  I cook for them, occasionally do laundry, listen to their stories and complaints, attempt to get them to mind, and clean up their dishes.  Sooo many dishes.  We don't have a dishwasher, so it feels like I'm literally always doing dishes.  If you think that cleaning peanut butter out of one measuring cup is bad, try like 10.

When you imagine me teaching youth cooking classes, you might picture a group of children in little aprons and chef hats staring adoringly at me as I demonstrate bread kneading or knife skills.  Ha.  More like me desperately trying to control a room full of unruly little devils.  They are grabby, loud, manipulative, constantly moving, needy, rude, and picky, among a number of other things.  Tonight I had to discipline three girls for eating mouthfuls of raw rice after I took it away and told them not to. Seriously?  RAW RICE?  If you're going to get in trouble, go for the big box of leftover Halloween chocolate sitting on the counter.  There are cooking days that have gone well, and days that have made me want to cry (I've only actually cried once).  Justin gets mad at me when I call them devils because he thinks it's too negative.  I think it's more just that I am realistic...

And yet, I love them, and I love it when I can tell they actually understand or remember something.  There are just the moments that make it all worth it.  Like when Estephanie tells me that she started coming to Afterschool because she loves cooking day.  Or when I get Christian or Ellie to try just one bite of something without dramatically gagging.  Or when tough little Brian begs to cut up the onions and then paces around the room with tears streaming down his face.  Or when at least half of the kids like the pureed pumpkin and sweet potato soup (a miracle).

Yes, little by little, these little devils have made themselves lovable.  They've become part of my days and my life.  I love it when they tell me their stories and cling to me when they're too scared to go into the haunted house on Halloween.  When they ask me to read to them or to watch them play soccer or show me their drawings.  I love it when I can tease them and when they want me to play with them.  Teaching them and corralling them may stress me out... like I'm always pretty nervous on cooking days... but I'm glad I'm doing it.  And really, they need it.  They need me and the other staff here at PACT.  Not even the cooking skills so much as just a positive couple of hours in their after-school day.  

These kids have much harder lives than mine ever was. Almost 100% of students in the Green River elementary school qualify for free and reduced lunch.  Currently, every single child that comes to Afterschool is Hispanic.  Their parents seem to work all the time, and many of them just run around the town doing what they want.  They don't have a plethora of positive role models, and they probably don't eat very well at home.  All of these things help remind me to be patient with their behavior and their eating habits... most of the time.    

Cook days have gone a little better as both they and I have adjusted our expectations and gotten used to one another.  If I can teach them just one or two things by the end of the year, whether it be that vegetables and whole grains won't kill them, the meaning of the term "fold"... or even just how to work quietly, listen, and share... I'll feel like I have succeeded in some way. It's baby steps.  

I think this is the only picture I have of cooking day, which Hope snapped on our very first venture.  This is during tasting time, when the children proclaimed the salsa to be "gross" and have "too much onion", and then proceeded to eat 10 chips full.

Oh, and P.S... Please go and thank a childcare provider or elementary school teacher.  And if you are one, THANK YOU.

The Lessons of Misadventures

Since coming to Utah, I've managed to get myself into a number of interesting situations.  Some of them due to my own foolhardiness, and others due to circumstances out of my control.  Come to think of it, the majority are really due to my foolhardiness.  I think the thinner air is clouding my judgement.  

First, there was the time the day after I got here that Ana and I ran out of gas because I decided not to fill up on a quarter tank, even though I was advised to.  In my defense, I was also told that we were driving 45 minutes (more like 90 minutes) and that there would be gas where we were going (except it was in a town 30 minutes away).  It being my first day and all, I was unaccustomed to the rarity of the Utah gas station.  Ok, excuses are over, you can go on thinking about how silly I was.  Luckily there was another car with us who was able to go ahead and fill up a gas can.  However, we kept driving to see how far we could get, and we made it a lot further than we thought, which led to the other car tragically passing and missing us.  Aaannnddd there was no cell service.  In the end, the poor other car filled with people I just met and who I would be spending a lot of time with ended up driving an extra hour and a half or so all trying to locate where we had stopped.  While all this is happening, we're sitting ducks and Ana has to listen to all my venting about how stupid and frustrating the whole situation is.  Needless to say, I felt pretty bad, and they haven't let me forget it.

Utah lesson #1: Don't leave Green River without at least half a tank.

Then, there was that time during Labor Day camping that I decided to climb a tree.

Which really isn't a big deal in itself, but when I sort of shimmied up the trunk to get to a higher branch, I didn't really consider how I might eventually get down.  So I ended up on this branch about 20 feet above the ground, stuck.  After much deliberation, I crawled backwards down this whole branch while the others freaked out.  They decided that the ground was still too far away for me, so while I was crawling they kept driving the car around under me in hopes of breaking my fall.   Eventually I dropped onto the hood, and I'm pretty sure I left a dent.

I know what you're thinking: Why would you think that's a good idea?!?  You and Bryan both.  Well, it's a good question... that I don't have the answer to. 

Utah lesson #2:  Don't climb up anything you can't climb back down.   

The other weekend I needed to go about an hour and a half to Grand Junction, the closest city to us (it's about the size of Lafayette).  I was going to get some labs done, and about halfway there realized I had forgotten some crucial papers.  After some frantic phone calls, poor Armando had to leave the comfort of his couch on a Saturday afternoon, crawl in our window because the house was locked, retrieve my papers, and scan/email them to me.

Utah lesson #3: ... you have to drive too far here to forget things.  Get yourself together. 

Most recently, I went on a short hike with a friend in less-than-ideal gear (jeans and high-tops, no supplies except water).  Halfway through, my nose suddenly started bleeding and neither one of us had anything to stop it with.  I eventually controlled it by a combination of letting it gush and using an old paper from his pocket.  By the time it was done, my face and shirt looked as though I'd killed a wild bunny with my teeth, and I had to use leaves from a nearby bush to clean myself up.  I most definitely broke Utah rule #1: Leave No Trace.  

Utah lesson #4: Hike prepared for anything.  

These stories are in addition to a bunch of smaller things like climbing on a cliff without ropes, having to jump off a 10 ft. rock into a river of interminable depth without a life jacket, frequently forgetting things on my shopping lists, almost getting stuck inside a large crevice, etc., which are making me wonder whether my life is completely following the pattern of my older sister Heather, who I feel totally got more scatterbrained the older she got.  (;

Bryan just before he crosses the tiny cliff ledge.  It's pure coincidence that Bryan is in both of these pictures, in case you're feeling nosy. 

Maybe it's just that there's more potential for things to go wrong in Utah.  I mean the most dangerous thing you could do in Indiana is probably drive a car.  Or maybe stand next to a vending machine.  Or take a selfie... I've heard those cause more deaths than sharks these days.  

Whatever the case, I think the overall lesson here is to just fully think through things before you do them.  Which apparently isn't my strongest suit.  

      

My People

The evening I arrived here with my friend Ana, after 20 or so hours of driving stretched over a couple of days, I was greeted off the interstate by two crazies grinning and waving flags.  These crazies are now my roommate/office mate (Hope) and my supervisor (Justin).  When we got to the house I share with Hope and another girl, I found reading materials about Green River on a bed already made for me, and we had a melon tasting featuring several varieties of Green River's finest.  We also made an 11:00 pm visit to the truck stop, West Winds, for breakfast (served 24 hours). It was as good as you can imagine a breakfast at a 24-hour truck stop could be.

My bed when I got here. So cute. And yes, it's a bright blue bunk bed.  It's great.

As these are the people I now spend a lot of my time with, I'd like to tell you a little about them.  If you come visit and meet them, don't creepily mention that you know all these things about them.  And if they ever find this blog... well... I apologize in advance.  

They accompanied me on my maiden kayak voyage on the Green, and there was a decent amount of bickering coming from the canoe- generally involving Justin's steering. 

Hope is an AmeriCorp VISTA as well, but she works primarily with the youth programs that PACT runs.  Because we're short on staff, she plans after-school and summer programs as well as spends every day with the kids.  

She's quirky, funny, and quick to argue, which means that we often spar about silly things.  We definitely both like to have a little fun, sometimes at others' expense, like the time we decided to tell the poor girl working at Which Wich that our names were Jane and Ambrosia.  To her credit, the girl called the name Ambrosia with a totally straight face when my sandwich was ready. 

Because, you know, when you live an hour and a half away from a Target, every trip is an adventure.

She loves green olives, books and movies, especially Edward Scissorhands, The Fight Club, and V for Vendetta, outrage (she just likes to get angry about things), odd television shows from the 90's, sleeping deeply, HARRY POTTER, sarcasm, anime, and chocolate milk, among many other things.  Our food tastes are fairly different, but her redeeming qualities are that she likes her steak medium-rare and she loves apple cider.  She's probably also good for my bones- there have been many an evening that we've bonded in the kitchen over glasses of Nesquik and milk.  

I was trying to wake her up by saying her name, but I was unsuccessful after about 6 tries.  She eventually woke up, mumbled some answer to my question, promptly fell back asleep, and didn't remember any of it later.  Side note: Hope can pull off a bandanna really well.  Like, better than anyone I know.

We picked out some truly hideous thrift store wall art for our living room.

She's probably said countless funny things, but these are some of my favorite Hope quotes. 

"Amber is the most optimistic person I know." 

... either Hope either knows a lot of super pessimistic people, or I'm a little different than I used to be.  Probably a little of both.  

"I'm sorry for the noise. I would put my headphones in, but I washed them AND dried them yesterday."

After our favorite girl didn't win the Melon Days Queen Pageant: 
"I'm going to go home and eat a lemon to get this bitter taste out of my mouth."  

The funny part is that she was totally serious.  We didn't have lemons, so she drank some lemon juice instead. 
  
"Look at you and your fancy grilled cheese.  You just walk in here after I make my normal grilled cheese and make me look bad.  You make me sick." 

Just for the record, my grilled cheese had tomato and deli turkey on it... 

She's also only 20, and in some ways it's like having a piece of my sister here.  I definitely lucked out in the roommate department.  

Hope did Rylie's make-up for the Junior Melon Queen Pageant while I worked on her hair.  

Once upon a time, Justin was a VISTA here in Green River, and life eventually brought him back to take the Director position for PACT.  

Justin is a child.  Yet, somehow, also an old soul.  He owns every Disney movie before Frozen, he's a huge Star Trek nerd, and his wardrobe is composed only of thrift store steals.  I think his favorites are his Grandpa cardigan and the Wendy's employee green short sleeve button up.  I need not even say that I would do some serious work on his wardrobe if I were ever allowed.  He loves being barefoot, so he often comes to the office in flip flops.  More often than not, his pants are dirty from crawling under the van to check it or running around in the dirt with the kids.  He's slightly obsessed with Ireland, which kind of makes sense since he graduated from Notre Dame (I've forgiven him... ).

He's quite particular about random things, like not passing both the salt AND pepper when someone just asks for one of them.  He's decided that items such as anything plastic and normal shampoo are things to be avoided, and he's just generally a little anti-consumerism.  Unless it's potato chips, chocolate, or any number of things that he binge eats in lieu of a meal (and then scolds me for not eating a proper lunch).  

He's a little bit of a push-over with the kids, but also pretty perceptive about when they're lying.  He loves to make theological or other esoteric references/jokes when talking with them, particularly when they're being mouthy.  It's probably an avoidance tactic.    

This is also the man who came up with 25 of the simultaneously worst and best interview questions ever, which everyone should probably be able to answer.  If you're interested, some of them below.  I think the "defensive" question was pretty eye opening.  I've never had to answer it so directly, and in thinking about it since I've definitely seen patterns emerge.  For a good time, just spring the questions on your friends in casual dinner conversation.

In spite or (or perhaps because of) their quirks, I genuinely feel that it's a pleasure to work with these two, and I wouldn't trade them.

In one of the first meetings I had with Justin, it came up that I hadn't yet managed to eat at the Chow Hound (old fast food place in town).  He immediately stood up and said, "we're going to get cheese sticks".  Priorities.

The interview (in part. food position questions were removed):

Who are you?
What do you want?
How would you define service?
When you have a stressful decision, how do you make it?
What is your spirit animal?
What are you defensive about?  Why?
What have you learned from someone else?
How do you try to improve yourself?
Why does color exist?
How would your personal creativity contribute to this organization?
What is your favorite team that you've been a part of?
What motivates you?
Describe a choice you've made and how it affected others.  What did you learn?  What were the consequences?
How have you identified and addressed a personal weakness?
How do you work with new and diverse cultures?
Describe your personal philosophy in seven words.  Elaborate on the meaning if you'd like.

Melon Days

A couple of weekends ago, I had the pleasure of participating in "Melon Days".  It's a festival that's quite a big deal 'round these parts.  There are a few melon lords in the area- the Dunhams, the Veteres, and the Thayns.  The leader of the Dunham melon empire also happens to be the son of the woman who owns the building where our organization's thrift store is housed.  Her other son is the pastor of the Bible church where I attend, his daughter used to run our youth programs, and his son owns the house that I'm currently living in. Are you getting a sense of how things work in small towns?

These farmers grow variety melons (which I'm so sorry that you folks in Indiana can't experience) in addition to the typical cantelope, honeydew, watermelon, etc.  My favorite variety is probably Canary.  It's crisp and lightly sweet yet flavorful.  The Crenshaw variety, however, is referred to around here as "the Cadillac of melons".  It's pretty good too.

The Cadillac

So, Green River's version of a harvest festival is Melon Days.  It basically consists of a bunch of vendors in the city park, plus some special events like a seed spitting, watermelon carving, and watermelon eating contests.  Oh, and free melon.  So much melon.  In case you've never experienced this, I'll warn you that too much melon can lead to some... eh... unpleasant GI effects.

Hope's watermelon, on the far right, is clearly the best, which is why it won first place.  Also, this is a random child.  I don't know him.

The parade was pretty impressive, partly because it was led by a helicopter and partly because of the famous "largest watermelon" (But really?  How vague is that?  Largest of what??) that resides in Green River.  It's really just a slice of watermelon, it's made of wood, and it comes out on special occasions.

What could you wear to melon days but homemade watermelon shirts?

Epicenter, an arts&culture/economic development non-profit, hosted some artists who made this float for the parade.  The theme of the parade this year was "whatever floats your melon".  Phil, one of the artists, bicycled this melon boat through the whole parade, which I considered pretty impressive.

I must say, however, that I was a little less than impressed with the selection of greasy fair food, so if anyone wants to volunteer to come out and set up an elephant ear/tenderloin/milk shake stand to show them how it's done, I would totally support that.

This is my supervisor, Justin.  And this was a tornado dog, which consists of fried potatoes wrapped around a hot dog.  'Nough said.

The non-profit I work with, PACT, and the other non-profit in town, Epicenter, had an arts booth for kids where I was also selling melon popsicles.  Right before I left Indiana I kept joking that if my VISTA position wasn't great I would just open up a popsicle stand.  Ha.  Funny how life works.  My other new business plans since coming here include a bowling alley, a drive-in theater (both of which used to exist), and a gourmet hot dog stand.  Or all three?  There are a lot of abandoned buildings around here that need rescuing.  

You're never too old for a face painting.

The kids were making felt bracelets, which are pretty cool.  I decided to add goat heads to mine, and I'm now also going to open up an etsy site for "natural" studded bracelets.  It's going to take off, I'm sure of it.  (goat heads are these spiky seed things that come off of some plant here.  If you look closely at the third from the top, I think you'll see the upside down goat head.)

The week leading up to Melon Days I made 200 popsicles.  Here's another thing about Green River... "two day shipping" on Amazon really means "two week shipping".  Which led to me calling stores and driving around the state trying to find popsicle molds the weekend before.  For some reason, stores don't consider September to be popsicle-making season.  I did have one man tell me that in a week he would have his Christmas popsicle molds out... I can think of several things wrong with that.

I'm including the popsicle recipes below if you're interested.  The Coconut Crenshaw was heavily endorsed by Hope, and my favorite was probably the Watermelon Strawberry Mint.

Unfortunately because of poor stand placement we didn't sell as many popsicles as we would have liked.  But we made back our money and most people who tried them really liked them.  At one point, Hope (an introvert) and I decided to walk around the park peddling popsicles to sell more.  You can probably imagine how that went, but make sure you're picturing two tired girls walking around the park and weakly yelling "homemade popsicles" and avoiding eye contact.  Whatever I decide to do with my life, I can assure you that it will not involve peddling anything.  

From left to right, Honeylope Orange Cream, Watermelon Strawberry Mint, Coconut Crenshaw, and Honeydew Lime Avocado.

Kid tested and approved.  

Each of these recipes are for about 8 popsicles. My 8-popsicle molds held 2 cups of liquid, so you might need to adjust the recipe slightly depending on much yours hold.  Or you could use ice cube trays.

For all of these, just throw everything in a blender and pour into molds.  They're quite simple and quick when you're not making a million.  I wrapped mine in waxed paper and sealed with washi tape, which worked well.    

Watermelon Strawberry Mint
1.5 cups watermelon 
(seedless would make your life a lot easier.  Otherwise, blend and strain the seeds out)
0.5 cup roasted strawberries 
(roast until juices are running and the fruit is softened and browned)
2 T sugar
0.25 cup mint leaves
2 tsp lemon juice


Honeylope Orange Cream
(this one had mixed reviews... you have to really like cantelope and vanilla)
1.5 cups cantaloupe or honeyloupe
0.5 cups sweetened condensed milk
1/2 tsp vanilla
(or full fat vanilla yogurt)
2 T orange juice concentrate 


Honeydew Lime Avocado
1.5 cups honeydew melon
0.25 cup lime juice
0.5 medium avocado
2 T sugar
Water if necessary to thin


Coconut Crenshaw 
1.0 cup crenshaw melon (or any melon, really)
0.5 cup crushed canned pineapple
0.5 cups coconut milk
1/2 tsp coconut flavor 
(adding coconut shavings might be good if you like a little texture in your pops)


Happy Melon Days!

Trudging

My friend Ana and I arrived in Green River around 10:00 pm on the 23rd of August and were invited to go on a hike at 7:00 am the next day.  That's a good idea, right?  So of course we did it.  The hike was on Mt. Peale, a 12700 ft. peak in the La Sal mountains about an hour and a half away from Green River.  It was a little longer drive than I thought, which led to an adventure involving my car and gas, but that's another story for another time.  

Being from Indiana, I have little experience hiking mountains.  Between that and the elevation, there were many times I thought Mt. Peale would do me in.  I'll state right now that I'm not an endurance person.  My body seems to be built for speed and agility, but slow and steady (or trudging, as I referred to it on the hike) is pretty much my least favorite thing.  In the story of the tortoise and the hare, I'm totally the hare.  My general strategy was to go as far as I could as quickly as possible, and then stop, gasping for air, because I was terrible at pacing myself.  I made it up, and back down, but I didn't make it pleasant for myself.  On the plus side, I'm sure I gave Ana a lot of laughs.

Another hike was planned which took place last weekend.  Mt. Elbert... a 14400 ft peak, almost 2000 feet higher than Mt. Peale and the second highest peak in the continental US behind only Mt. Whitney in California.  I probably should have been more scared for this than I was, but lately I seem to adopt the general attitude of "we'll just see what happens".

These are some of the people I spend my time with now.  Total goons.

We camped by the trailhead and rose at 4:30 after a night of sleep that was possibly the worst of my life... bone chilling coldness, the overwhelming quiet of a silent night punctuated by snores from the boys tent, and being squished to a 1.5 ft wide space by Hope.  The joys of camping.  The beginning of the hike wasn't bad at all, and the rising sun with the changing fall colors of the Colorado forest made it so beautifully worth it. 

Then, the trees faded away, replaced by an intimidating, steep rocky trail through scrub grasses and plants brave enough to survive the altitude.  As we journeyed up this path, there were a very limited number of things on my mind:

Put one foot in front of the other.  Breathe in, breathe out.  One foot in front of the other.  Get to the rock up there. Slow and steady. Water.  Breathe in, breathe out.

By the time we were halfway up the peak, I had blisters on my heel, sole, and toes, and my hip flexors were aching terribly.  My lungs and thighs burned.  I kept looking down and thinking, I don't know how, but my feet are still moving.  Though my steps were generally baby-sized, they didn't stop.  At one point, a man that looked part Native American and all full of sage wisdom passed by me on his way down.  He smiled and said good morning, but I must have seemed miserable because then he just looked at me with a smile in his eyes and said "I know."  

I had learned to trudge, but even more surprisingly, I enjoyed it in a way.  Maybe this is the kind of thing long distance runners experience (I wouldn't know), but there was something kind of cleansing about putting myself through that hike.  It's not really about reaching the top, though of course that's nice (some inspirational Miley Cyrus lyrics are running through my head, but I don't really like her or her music so I'll refrain).  It's something about the lesson of continuing, one foot in front of the other, when your head thinks there's no way you can. It's also about learning what you can handle and pacing yourself accordingly, which is I think one of the hardest life lessons of all.

Sometimes our little group got spaced out, and there was a time I ended up walking with a nice woman named Denise, who was about 45, hiking alone, and had climbed 14000 ft peaks approximately 65 times in her life.  Pretty amazing.  We encountered a man on the way up who thought it sounded like a good plan to spend his morning jogging. JOGGING. up Mt. Elbert. Denise just shook her head and said "He must be from Leadville."  Apparently people from Leadville are nuts.  I wonder if he could feel the daggers everyone was staring into his back as he passed by, because there were plenty of them.  Here you are, just pleased that you're still moving, and he suddenly makes you feel like you're super lame for struggling up this mountain.  You're pretty much a 90 year old woman waddling up in her PJ's, by comparison.

It's a little how life can feel sometimes, or at least it is for me.  I'm generally a "results" person, not a "process" person, and that can make it easy to compare myself to others.  So even if something is a personal achievement it always seems like it pales in comparison to the amazing things that other people are doing (I'm sure no one else has this problem).  It's an ongoing struggle, but I think the past year or so has helped me begin to see things a little differently.  To focus a little more on the journey and less on the peak.  To realize that in each season of my life, I am able to give something unique to the people and opportunities that have been placed before me- something that I couldn't give at any other time.  To remember that the successes or good opinions of others are not what I'm striving for.  And, in the end, to feel comfortable with my own pace.   

Yes, I did actually make it.