Woody Harrelson Will Play Me In the Movie

Thanks to this inspired piece of brilliance from Athlists, I was reminded of my own nuclear fail while once attempting to dunk a basketball.

I was at my friend Nathan Sicko's house, probably around 1982. Yes, "Sicko" was his real last name. But he was still a decent kid. And his older sister Christy was cute despite being nominally challenged, so that added to the motivation to hang out with him sometimes.

He had a basketball hoop in his dirt driveway, and while we were outside shooting one day one of us got the brilliant idea to get a stepladder and see if we could dunk.

We put it right next to the hoop to start, and the initial results were quite good. We were rim-rocking like Dr. J himself.

But of course we couldn't just leave it at that. So we gradually moved the ladder farther and farther away so we could get more hang time. And this, too, went well...for a while.

I was the one who finally moved the ladder past its tipping point. Literally. The farther away we got, the more we had to jump forward to reach the hoop as opposed to just jumping up. We'd gotten it about three feet away, and as I pushed off instead of me flying towards the hoop the ladder went flying away from it.

This left me in a fairly vulnerable position, and I came crashing to the ground. I landed face-first and smashed the frame of my glasses. When I got up they were actually hanging from one of my cheeks.

Fortunately the lenses hadn't shattered and the frames weren't embedded too deeply. My pride was more gravely injured than anything else. I mumbled some sort of lame excuse and hastily pedaled back home. Sadly this was well before the current age of cheap and plentiful video recording equipment, so this escapade wasn't captured to be shared with the world like these.

Christy never did express any sort of interest in me either, so I wonder if she had watched the whole incident unfold and decided there was no way she could go out with someone with my obvious lack of both hops and brains.

Maybe I should have tried to impress her with my Dungeons & Dragons prowess instead. I never knew anyone who got a 20-sided die stuck in his face.

Tooth or Consequences

Zak lost his eighth tooth yesterday. And I mean "lost" literally. Fortunately we eventually found it on the stairs -- it had apparently fallen out of a tiny hole in the plastic bag we had put it in as he was carrying it upstairs to put it under his pillow. But of the eight of his baby teeth that have come out so far, three unfortunately DID disappear before the Tooth Fairy was able to redeem them.

He was delighted the first time one of his teeth started to wiggle. He constantly pushed it around with his finger or tongue, just fascinated. We kept telling him to be sure to hold on to it when it eventually came out so he could put it under his pillow.

Then one night when we were having dinner at Nana's house he froze mid-chew. His eyes got wide as saucers and I asked him if anything was wrong. He silently nodded. I asked him if it was his tooth, and he nodded again. So I asked him where his tooth was, and he slowly pointed to his stomach.

He looked like he was going to burst into tears at any second, and it was all I could do not to burst out laughing. We assured him that everything was all right and that we could just leave the Tooth Fairy a note to explain what happened. So when we got home he drew a fantastic picture of a mouthful of jagged teeth with one hole, a big circle below them representing his stomach, a little gray rectangle inside the circle and a red line from his mouth to the rectangle signifying the tooth's tragic path.

The Tooth Fairy accepted the proxy, and we stashed the picture away in a memory box. But he wasn't done making his baby teeth's exodus memorable.

Two of them I've pulled out at his request, going with the twist-and-pull technique each time and unfortunately also failing on my first attempt each time. But he just stood there stoically, mouth agape, and insisted I try again. He obviously inherited Danelle's tolerance for pain.

He was holding onto one in the car on the way home from soccer practice and dropped it. We sifted through the pieces of popcorn, Goldfish cracker crumbs and myriad other things that look an awful lot like teeth on the floor of my car for quite a while before eventually giving up. Another tooth lost.

We had another in a Ziploc bag on our kitchen counter that just vanished. Danelle insists I threw it away in a cleaning frenzy; I blame our cleaning ladies. Regardless, if we hadn't found last night's that would have been exactly half of his teeth so far that never made it under his pillow.

Thankfully we did, and his plastic bag had two dollars in it this morning. The Tooth Fairy apparently doesn't do silver any more; Zak even commented that a friend of his named Ben gets five dollars for each of his teeth.

A Tooth Fairy that forks over that kind of cash sounds not too bright. I wonder how much we could get for some of those pieces of popcorn...

Vail, Part II

So after yesterday's cliffhanger I'm sure you're all anxious too know what happened to us after we finished -- or THOUGHT we'd finished -- yesterday's hike.
Well...
The gondola broke down. We were waiting in line to get on and an employee informed us it wasn't working and might not be for another hour or two, and once they got it started again they would probably not take on any new passengers and just let off the people who were currently stuck on it.
Faced with few choices, I decided we should just suck it up and hike down Berry Picker. The kids were troopers -- they understood there weren't any other good options. So off we went.
The hike did not lack for impressive vistas. This is the view to the northwest.
An obliging Fritillary.
The view back to the northeast.
One of the wooded areas we went through had the biggest aspens I've ever seen.
I saw exactly three patches along the entire trail that could have given "Berry Picker" its name. Still probably a higher standard than they applied before naming Lion Down.
There were some pretty steep sections, but the kids navigated all of them without incident.
I wasn't so fortunate, turning my left ankle right before we reached this point. My yelp of pain was loud enough that some other hikers further down the trail hollered back to make sure I was all right, which I was. Other than having a low pain threshold, anyway.
A big patch of Cow Parsnip.
I'm at a total loss as to what this tiny wildflower is. Can't find anything even close in any of my online resources.
Where there's a rock suitable for posing, Zak and Taryn are only too happy to oblige.
By the time we were close to the base the gondola had started moving again. The good mood the kids had maintained for most of the descent began to fade until they noticed there weren't any people on it.
We straggled back into Lionshead Village, Taryn especially looking like a refugee. I went back to where we had originally bought our gondola ticket and got a refund without any hassle from a gracious and understanding young man named Rob from Chautauqua, New York. Good customer service usually goes a long way and this was no exception. Nicely handled, Vail!
Unbelievably to me, it was after 4:00 by this point. So it had been five hours since we'd first gotten on the gondola that morning. All told, we walked about seven miles.
I promised the kids they could eat anywhere they wanted for being such rock stars and they chose Burger King because of their Pokemon promotion. But poor Taryn fell asleep almost immediately once we got in the car, so Zak forlornly watched out the window as we passed BKs in Silverthorne and Downieville before she finally woke up right before Evergreen.
Our weekday hiking program definitely ended with a bang. I'm tremendously grateful that the kids and I got the chance to do these things together, and Danelle even confessed to being a little jealous. Hopefully we'll get in some weekend expeditions down the road!

Vail, Part I

For our last weekly hike before I start my new job next Monday (huzzah!), I decided to go all out and take the kids to Vail. I had no idea just how much of an adventure this would end up being... (cue foreshadowing organ music).

I paid the $20 to take the Eagle Bahn Gondola up, which Zak and Taryn were pretty excited about.

The view of the Sawatch Range from Eagle's Nest, with the Mount of the Holy Cross towards the left.

We took the mile-long Lower Fireweed Trail to Mid-Vail, and Zak snapped this shot of the Berry Picker Trail which split off and headed down the mountain. Even though it was all downhill, Berry Picker's 4.6 miles seemed a little long for the kids (cue foreshadowing organ music again).

The vegetation was just amazing, especially compared to how dry and brown it is here now. The lush green meadows were liberally sprinkled with colorful wildflowers like Fireweed, Heartleaf Arnica and these Indian Paintbrush.

A couple of Clover blossoms.

I think this is a Greenish Blue, but I'm going to have to ask my go-to guy Mike Fisher to be sure.
UPDATE: Mike says it's actually an Arctic Blue or Mountain Blue, and I always defer to his expertise.

The last third of Lower Fireweed went through some terrific dense forest. The kids actually read some of the U.S. Forest Service educational signage!

Mid-Vail was virtually empty when we got there, so we relaxed for a bit on the Vista Bahn Express chairlift.

Zachary Dandelionseed never got the pub of his cousin Johnny, but he worked just as hard to spread his favorite plant.

The focus is a little soft, but this insect was just way too weird not to include the shot. It seemed to be some kind of fly or bee, but I can't find any definitive ID anywhere. Mike's going to have to come through for me twice this week.

UPDATE: Mike comes through again, pegging it as a large tachinid fly. A little further online research revealed it to specifically be Adejeania vexatrix.

We didn't see many birds and no mammals -- not even chipmunks. But this Gray Jay did check us out.

My questionable attempt at artistry. I took this upside-down on my back while the kids stood in front of a totem pole.

A ladybug climbs a blade of grass.

When we first arrived at the top of the gondola a Vail photog was taking pics of people at this overlook, and he told one girl to jump up and hold her arms out. I really don't know why. But when we got back, the kids had to try it.

A really nice 2.2 miles and it was time to hop back on the gondola to head down the mountain. Or so we thought... (third use of foreshadowing organ music, now bordering on overkill)

More to come tomorrow!

The Wrong Tool For the Job Is Usually Me

I just spent 20 minutes trying to re-hang one of Zak's closet doors. Well, that's not entirely true. At first a couple of his doors were just out of their bottom tracks, which sometimes happens when he and Taryn have been playing in his room and knock them a bit. But as I tried to tug the first one back into place I over-compensated a bit for only using one arm and accidentally pulled it off its top track. Then as I was trying to get the door back on its top track I again used a little too much force (frustration was creeping in by this point) and somehow knocked the other TWO doors both off their top tracks.

By this point I was just a poke in the eye away from being in a Three Stooges skit. But I eventually got them all back on. And as much as I'd like to chalk the whole thing up to my favorite scapegoat for anything that doesn't go quite right these days -- The Fact That I Have a Broken Wrist -- a contributing factor was undoubtedly that I am just not very handy.

Whoever coined the phrase that they couldn't use any tool with more moving parts than a screwdriver was definitely a kindred spirit of mine. I don't build things or change my own oil. Doing this would probably challenge me.

I put the front tire fork of Taryn's Dora bicycle on backwards this past Christmas and didn't realize it -- one of my neighbors had to point it out. I think Michael Keaton's "220, 221 -- whatever it takes" line in Mr. Mom is funny but I'm not sure why.

As I was disconnecting the washing machine in our house in Dallas for the movers to take to Denver I somehow unleashed a gusher of boiling hot water into our laundry room. So I did the only logical thing -- called Danelle, who had already gotten a job in Denver and moved out a couple of months earlier. "Um...turn it off," was her brilliant suggestion. So I wrapped a towel around my hand and did just that. Fortunately I had the good sense to leave the dryer hooked up for all the towels I had to use to sop up the aftermath. But seriously, I couldn't think of that on my own?

I do have one accomplishment that I point to when I'm accused of having no skills in this area at all -- I installed a shower door in our house in Conifer. The caulking job looked like a second-grader's attempt to ice a cake, but it never leaked or fell apart so at least it was functional. Aesthetics are for wimps.

I'm a firm believer that I get paid for the skills I do have so I can pay other people to do things I don't have the skills for. I don't suppose there's much chance Zak learned that lesson while he watched me from his bed during my struggle with the doors, though.

Hot, But Not Bothered

I had lunch at Swing Thai today. Drunken Noodles with chicken, medium spice. I'd been told never to order food "hot" at a Thai restaurant, and even though I like spicy food I haven't had the guts to ignore that advice yet.

My dad didn't care for ethnic foods like Mexican, Indian or Chinese -- he said he'd worked in the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant once and that was enough to make him never want to eat at one again. But he still ate some hot stuff. Specifically, cherry peppers straight from the jar. What was funny was how he'd insist they weren't hot, despite his face turning crimson and dripping sweat.

I've been doing some informal training for Buffalo Wild Wings Blazin' Challenge -- 12 wings in their hottest sauce in less than six minutes. Zak and I go sometimes after his Friday soccer practices. I'm up to eating six wings in their second-hottest sauce with no problem, so I feel like in another couple of visits I'll be ready to give it a shot. I'm sure my mother will be proud.

Zak's showing an impressive tolerance for spicy food at a young age. I double-dog-dared him to try some Green Pepper Tabasco Sauce at Qdoba once and he agreed. But when I grabbed a chip to put some on he shook his head and stuck out his tongue. So I poured a few drops right on it and he was pretty unfazed.

I offered him a dollar once to eat a chili pepper from an order of P.F. Chang's Kung Pao Scallops and he did that without blinking an eye, too. Then he promptly asked for his dollar. We're apparently raising quite a little capitalist.

Zak and my dad will unfortunately only meet in my head until we're all together in Heaven, but the thought of them sitting together on the couch sharing a jar of cherry peppers does make me chuckle.

At Least They Don't Chew Their Cuds

Zak and Taryn are grazers. They just can't -- or won't -- eat a lot at one sitting. The times we've tried to make them have usually ended in disaster -- i.e., vomit.

We've given them the "well, this is what's for dinner so don't expect any more later" line. We've negotiated with them in an "all right, just have two more bites of rice and one more bite of broccoli" fashion. We haven't tried the guilt angle with "there are people starving in Ethiopia" yet, but I don't think it would register at their ages anyway.

What I can't figure out is why we're trying so hard. Studies have shown that eating smaller meals more frequently throughout the day is actually healthier. It helps you avoid getting too hungry and overeating, and keeps your metabolism up so your energy level stays more consistent.

I'm sure part of it has to do with our own upbringings and habits. I have vivid memories of staring at the last cold piece of kielbasa or bite of babka on my plate long after the rest of my family had left the dining room table. I think my sister Dawn got to do it even more often than I did.

I wouldn't follow my kids' lead on most things -- for instance, which shirt and pants go together. But they just might have the right idea on this one.

Frankly, I'm all for anything that lowers my chances of having to clean up puke.