Thursday, April 29, 2010
Yesterday it was 72 degrees......
... and I took the following pictures this morning. This morning, APRIL 29th.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Water...Park
So, we've had some rain. Ok, a LOT of rain, and, briefly, two inches of snow. Yes, snow in April. Apparently it is quite normal and I should stop being such a spaz about it.
Anyway, this is what the boys did when their Daddy took them to the park today:
Um, buddy, think you over-did the ballast.
Yes they immediately took a bath when they got home.
Anyway, this is what the boys did when their Daddy took them to the park today:
Um, buddy, think you over-did the ballast.
Yes they immediately took a bath when they got home.Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Living the Census
Barantunde Thurston’s essay entitled “My Life: the playlist” deals with his disappointment in how little the Census asked about his life. He obviously had the short form that the majority of Americans received. Hopefully you have sent your form in.
His essay made me think, though. What does the Census not say about me, and my family?
Yes I told the Census Bureau the names, ages, and birthdates of all the persons living here. I even included our “race”. I did this despite my firm belief that the Constitution does not require racial information in the Census. In fact, depending on your interpretation of the 13th and 14th amendments, it specifically forbids consideration of race as a factor for choosing the number of House of Representative seats for each state and Presidential electors. But, I digress.
So the US government now knows we’re a family of four white, not of Hispanic descent, persons living in a rented apartment in Colorado.
I didn’t get to tell the government about our 13 year old mutt, Katya. I didn’t get to tell them about Frank, Ethan’s imaginary cat.
I didn’t get to tell them about the house we sincerely hope to be moving into come June. I didn’t get to say that we’ll be owning that house, after scrimping and saving and refusing to refinance our old home in Springfield so that we would not be underwater and in debt. I didn’t get to tell them I sold that house last year at a profit. (Though I did tell the IRS, but I know as well as anyone else that the different government offices don’t share information.)
I didn’t tell them how I’m unemployed by choice and Mark is employed in a job he loves. I didn’t get to tell them about the book I’m writing, the blogs I post to, the recipes I make up to satisfy the various dietary restrictions of my menfolk.
But the Census was never meant for that, it could never be the sole record of our lives. 75 years from now, if I’m lucky, some historian might want to know where the Davis family wound up. They may have tracked us from Kentucky (where we were in 2000) to Colorado, but they’ll miss those 10 intervening years. 10 years of babies, small apartments, leaky houses, long commutes, hot summer nights at Lake Accotink, surprise winter snowstorms, broken arms, skinned knees, friends found and loved ones lost.
The Census won’t show how I struggle to impart our joint Southern heritage to our children. How we make sure that they know their grandparents and great grandparents. The Census won’t know that I talk to them about their Uncle Adrian and what a funny guy he was. No, the Census won’t realize how hard it is to raise my boys and teach them about the sacrifices their Godfather makes – sacrifices that kept him from meeting them for most of those ten years.
The Census doesn’t record recipes for Gramma’s cheesecake, Ed’s rosemary chicken, Linda’s monkeybread, Mamma’s lasagna. It doesn’t know about my MP3 playlist that includes Charlie Daniels, Juice Newton, John Denver, Bon Jovi, Nickelback, Michael Jackson, Beethoven, Coplin and the Backyardigans. The compiled list of facts doesn't show how loudly we cheer for UK football and basketball or how we spend the first Saturday in May.
The Census could never record the look of joy on my children’s faces when they discover that perfect stick for playing “Pooh sticks” in the creek. It cannot record their belly laughs when tickled, or their tears when a favorite toy breaks.
We are more than names, birthdates, racial pigeonholes. We are mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, uncles, loved ones. We are Southerners, Americans, patriots, followers of God or followers of conscience. We are the living breathing essence of our nation, a constant oral, visual, digital, written, debated, history of a people.
It is good that the Census form did not require more of our time. Our time is better spent living and sharing our lives with those around us. What we are today determines what we can be tomorrow, what we can be ten years from now. We do not need a Census to tell us that. All we really need is a child to sit at our feet and listen to the stories of the past and our dreams of the future.
His essay made me think, though. What does the Census not say about me, and my family?
Yes I told the Census Bureau the names, ages, and birthdates of all the persons living here. I even included our “race”. I did this despite my firm belief that the Constitution does not require racial information in the Census. In fact, depending on your interpretation of the 13th and 14th amendments, it specifically forbids consideration of race as a factor for choosing the number of House of Representative seats for each state and Presidential electors. But, I digress.
So the US government now knows we’re a family of four white, not of Hispanic descent, persons living in a rented apartment in Colorado.
I didn’t get to tell the government about our 13 year old mutt, Katya. I didn’t get to tell them about Frank, Ethan’s imaginary cat.
I didn’t get to tell them about the house we sincerely hope to be moving into come June. I didn’t get to say that we’ll be owning that house, after scrimping and saving and refusing to refinance our old home in Springfield so that we would not be underwater and in debt. I didn’t get to tell them I sold that house last year at a profit. (Though I did tell the IRS, but I know as well as anyone else that the different government offices don’t share information.)
I didn’t tell them how I’m unemployed by choice and Mark is employed in a job he loves. I didn’t get to tell them about the book I’m writing, the blogs I post to, the recipes I make up to satisfy the various dietary restrictions of my menfolk.
But the Census was never meant for that, it could never be the sole record of our lives. 75 years from now, if I’m lucky, some historian might want to know where the Davis family wound up. They may have tracked us from Kentucky (where we were in 2000) to Colorado, but they’ll miss those 10 intervening years. 10 years of babies, small apartments, leaky houses, long commutes, hot summer nights at Lake Accotink, surprise winter snowstorms, broken arms, skinned knees, friends found and loved ones lost.
The Census won’t show how I struggle to impart our joint Southern heritage to our children. How we make sure that they know their grandparents and great grandparents. The Census won’t know that I talk to them about their Uncle Adrian and what a funny guy he was. No, the Census won’t realize how hard it is to raise my boys and teach them about the sacrifices their Godfather makes – sacrifices that kept him from meeting them for most of those ten years.
The Census doesn’t record recipes for Gramma’s cheesecake, Ed’s rosemary chicken, Linda’s monkeybread, Mamma’s lasagna. It doesn’t know about my MP3 playlist that includes Charlie Daniels, Juice Newton, John Denver, Bon Jovi, Nickelback, Michael Jackson, Beethoven, Coplin and the Backyardigans. The compiled list of facts doesn't show how loudly we cheer for UK football and basketball or how we spend the first Saturday in May.
The Census could never record the look of joy on my children’s faces when they discover that perfect stick for playing “Pooh sticks” in the creek. It cannot record their belly laughs when tickled, or their tears when a favorite toy breaks.
We are more than names, birthdates, racial pigeonholes. We are mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, uncles, loved ones. We are Southerners, Americans, patriots, followers of God or followers of conscience. We are the living breathing essence of our nation, a constant oral, visual, digital, written, debated, history of a people.
It is good that the Census form did not require more of our time. Our time is better spent living and sharing our lives with those around us. What we are today determines what we can be tomorrow, what we can be ten years from now. We do not need a Census to tell us that. All we really need is a child to sit at our feet and listen to the stories of the past and our dreams of the future.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Educational Weekend
We learned a Colorado life lesson this past weekend: don’t try to go hiking above 5,500 feet during the second week of April. It may be 60 degrees and sunny at 5, 300 feet, but there will still be snow on the east face of that mountain you’re hiking up.
Saturday we made the short, though VERY bumpy, drive to Eldorado Canyon to try out a trail Mark had read about online. The dirt road was….painful. I don’t know which was in more pain, my van’s suspension or my spinal column. The scenery was jaw-dropping and thoroughly made up for the road. Sadly, we hadn’t gone more than a few feet up the trail before we encountered snow and ice- and we were all wearing tennis shoes.
We’ll go back in May… or June. Maybe July!
That evening I rebelled against cooking dinner. I suggested we drive into Louisville and eat dinner at the Old Louisville Inn. Mark and the boys happily agreed. These men are so easy to manipulate. Tell them there will be food and they are ready to go!
The Inn is fantastic. The décor, the wait-staff, the history, and the food are all superb. I highly recommend anyone driving north of Denver stop in Louisville and grab a meal at the Old Louisville Inn. http://www.olirish.com/index.php?p=history
Sunday, Ethan attended a birthday part for a class mate. It was a “spy kids” themed party. The parents put in a lot of leg work preparing for the party. Each child’s goody bag included a mock passport, reflective men-in-black style sunglasses, a magnifying glass, and other “spy” paraphernalia. Ethan had so much fun the little boy whose party he was attending begged to adopt him.
Monday we finally worked out the details on the house. The owner installed a radon system in the basement and is having it re-tested to make sure the house will be safe to inhabit. He’s also having all the miscellaneous plumbing issues fixed and giving us a lump sum during closing to cover the siding repairs and paint job. We did not, unfortunately, reach an amicable settlement regarding the roof. Mark and I have decided that we will start a savings account specifically for the roof repair and plan on replacing it within the next 5 years.
So, now all we have to do is wait until May 24th to close!
I know all y’all in the South and on the Atlantic seaboard are drowning in pollen. We have a few trees that have started to bud out and there are sprigs of green appearing around town. I’ve been warned, however, to not be shocked if it snows in May.
I think they’re teasing me.
Surely.
Hopefully.
Saturday we made the short, though VERY bumpy, drive to Eldorado Canyon to try out a trail Mark had read about online. The dirt road was….painful. I don’t know which was in more pain, my van’s suspension or my spinal column. The scenery was jaw-dropping and thoroughly made up for the road. Sadly, we hadn’t gone more than a few feet up the trail before we encountered snow and ice- and we were all wearing tennis shoes.
We’ll go back in May… or June. Maybe July!
That evening I rebelled against cooking dinner. I suggested we drive into Louisville and eat dinner at the Old Louisville Inn. Mark and the boys happily agreed. These men are so easy to manipulate. Tell them there will be food and they are ready to go!
The Inn is fantastic. The décor, the wait-staff, the history, and the food are all superb. I highly recommend anyone driving north of Denver stop in Louisville and grab a meal at the Old Louisville Inn. http://www.olirish.com/index.php?p=history
Sunday, Ethan attended a birthday part for a class mate. It was a “spy kids” themed party. The parents put in a lot of leg work preparing for the party. Each child’s goody bag included a mock passport, reflective men-in-black style sunglasses, a magnifying glass, and other “spy” paraphernalia. Ethan had so much fun the little boy whose party he was attending begged to adopt him.
Monday we finally worked out the details on the house. The owner installed a radon system in the basement and is having it re-tested to make sure the house will be safe to inhabit. He’s also having all the miscellaneous plumbing issues fixed and giving us a lump sum during closing to cover the siding repairs and paint job. We did not, unfortunately, reach an amicable settlement regarding the roof. Mark and I have decided that we will start a savings account specifically for the roof repair and plan on replacing it within the next 5 years.
So, now all we have to do is wait until May 24th to close!
I know all y’all in the South and on the Atlantic seaboard are drowning in pollen. We have a few trees that have started to bud out and there are sprigs of green appearing around town. I’ve been warned, however, to not be shocked if it snows in May.
I think they’re teasing me.
Surely.
Hopefully.
Thursday, April 08, 2010
Easter 2010
We’re still negotiating regarding which of the home inspection items will be corrected before closing, so no new house news today. Instead, I bring you pictures of Gap-tooth and Sniggett on their first Colorado Easter.
We don’t have a church yet, so after having a leisurely breakfast of chocolate bunnies and jellybeans, we piled in the car for a Sunday drive in the mountains.
First we went up US36 through Boulder and into the Roosevelt National Forest on our way to Estes Park.
Once in Estes Park we drove around seeing the town. As we were leaving we saw the famous inhabitants of the town.
We saw two more complete herds of elk on the drive out of town, but I couldn’t snap a picture.
Leaving Estes Park we drove south on CO7 before reaching CO72, also known as the Peak to Peak highway. This church sits right beside the road as you come around a bend. It is literally breath taking. Mt Meeker rises behind the chapel (but unseen in this photo), a mere 13, 865 feet above sea level.
We left the Peak to Peak at Nederland and drove home through Boulder Canyon, as the boys were getting restless and I still had Easter dinner to cook. I hope some of y'all com visit soon, so we can explore together!
We don’t have a church yet, so after having a leisurely breakfast of chocolate bunnies and jellybeans, we piled in the car for a Sunday drive in the mountains.
First we went up US36 through Boulder and into the Roosevelt National Forest on our way to Estes Park.
Once in Estes Park we drove around seeing the town. As we were leaving we saw the famous inhabitants of the town.
We saw two more complete herds of elk on the drive out of town, but I couldn’t snap a picture.
Leaving Estes Park we drove south on CO7 before reaching CO72, also known as the Peak to Peak highway. This church sits right beside the road as you come around a bend. It is literally breath taking. Mt Meeker rises behind the chapel (but unseen in this photo), a mere 13, 865 feet above sea level.
We left the Peak to Peak at Nederland and drove home through Boulder Canyon, as the boys were getting restless and I still had Easter dinner to cook. I hope some of y'all com visit soon, so we can explore together!
Monday, April 05, 2010
Spring Break- with less Spring
First: house update! We had the home inspection on Friday the 26th. The following major issues were detected and have to be repaired/rectified before we close:
1. The roof has hail damage. We are sincerely hoping the owner’s insurance will pay for this. We cannot afford to buy a house that needs a $20,000 - $30,000 roof replaced.
2. The siding is bowed and water warped all along the back edge of the house in a small section. The siding has to be replaced and the underlying water problem corrected.
3. The house failed the radon inspection in stellar fashion. The owner has to have a radon mitigation system installed and pass a follow-up test.
4. There is a minor gas leak in the gas fireplace, the hot water heater and humidifier leak, and the sump pump is broken. All of these have to be corrected.
We are still waiting to hear back from the owner on what he will agree to fix, but obviously if he does not agree to fixing some of these issues we’re going to have to find ANOTHER house.
Anyway, March 22-30th was Spring Break for Ethan, but someone forgot to tell Colorado that it was Spring. We did have a few nice, warm, days, but we also had snow and cold. Pictures of the boys playing along Rock Creek, which runs behind our apartment complex, are below. Don’t fret, they were WELL supervised and stayed far away from the rushing water.
1. The roof has hail damage. We are sincerely hoping the owner’s insurance will pay for this. We cannot afford to buy a house that needs a $20,000 - $30,000 roof replaced.
2. The siding is bowed and water warped all along the back edge of the house in a small section. The siding has to be replaced and the underlying water problem corrected.
3. The house failed the radon inspection in stellar fashion. The owner has to have a radon mitigation system installed and pass a follow-up test.
4. There is a minor gas leak in the gas fireplace, the hot water heater and humidifier leak, and the sump pump is broken. All of these have to be corrected.
We are still waiting to hear back from the owner on what he will agree to fix, but obviously if he does not agree to fixing some of these issues we’re going to have to find ANOTHER house.
Anyway, March 22-30th was Spring Break for Ethan, but someone forgot to tell Colorado that it was Spring. We did have a few nice, warm, days, but we also had snow and cold. Pictures of the boys playing along Rock Creek, which runs behind our apartment complex, are below. Don’t fret, they were WELL supervised and stayed far away from the rushing water.
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