Christmas tree hunting, Ingalls-style

I remember reading "Little House on the Prairie" when I was a kid and being especially enamored with the Ingalls' Christmas -- the simple holiday pleasures of the good old days, when sturdy folks went out and chopped down their own Christmas trees.

I'm not talking U-Cut tree farms, either. I mean, going out into the woods with ax-in-hand like Pa Ingalls, and bringing home a "real" tree for trimming. It seemed almost magical.

What can I say? We were seduced by this notion of "simply holiday pleasures." And so, we left last Sunday morning for the Olympic National Forest, where our $5 permit would allow us to chop down our tree.

It was an exciting adventure. It was a day of thrills. But, let's call the experience what it really was: A comedy of errors.

To begin with, we had had a blast of bad weather the night before. But HA, the ice and snow would not stop us! No, we pressed on through the treacherous roads, ignoring the ominous signs of abandoned SUVs and spun-out four-wheel drive vehicles along the highway.

We ambitiously took on several forest roads, only to drive 2 or 3 miles down each road and then turn around, when we realized our car wasn't up to the task.

Our day went like this:

This is about our fifth attempt to find a "legal" place for tree-cutting. This snow was really, really wet. So, as this picture was being taken, I'm thinking, "Hmmmm, the thermal longjohns are good, but snow pants may have been a better choice than jeans."

Finally! After our many attempts, we were able to drive into the Collins campground by Duckabush. It was beautiful and quiet (the kind of quiet that only happens after a snowfall...with the exception of giant branches snapping off the trees under the weight of the wet snow.)

Any tree-cutting had take place more than 100 feet from the campsites. So, we hiked in a bit.

Hmmmm, good trees are hard to spot when they're snow-covered.

We were all alone. Nobody was around. Except this little snowman, who just stood there in the middle of the road. A little creepy, my coworker Dan observed, in a Stephen King kind of way.










"Hey," yelled SMH. "I've found the perfect tree. Come into this wet snow that's up to me knees and help me chop it down!"





"Please don't make me come in there and help you. Seriously, don't."

















Good job, Pa Ingalls! Notice saw in right hand.












Hoisting this tree on top of the car was ridiculous. The tree was heavy, and we were soaking wet. And freezing.






You know how when you buy a Christmas tree (in the more conventional way), they wrap it up nice and tight so you can just pop it on top of your car and drive home?

No such luxury. This is how we drove home (about 65 miles) -- with the tree precariously bungeed to the car, branches hanging over the sides.

Tah-dah! We made it home!

It was a little rough, but we did it! We chopped down our own tree!

Wait a minute...wasn't the tree a lot shorter and a lot skinnier when we spotted it in the forest?









Now I know why the call it "tree trimming." After taking the clippers to several branches, we managed to fit it into the room.





We decorated that night.



















Tree in situ. Please disregard the stupid pajama pants.

Taking a turn down Neurotic Lane

Yeahhhhh, so...wouldn't it figure that immediately following my mini-rant about the isolation that computers will inevitably inflict upon humankind, I receive an e-mail from an old friend trying to reconnect after years of being out of touch.

Not just any "old friend." My first puppy-love boyfriend (that's Marcus, if you are a high school friend). Flashback to 18 years ago! It was actually very sweet to hear from him, but...

From the looks of things, this guy scores way more cool points than me. He has a myspace account, is a dj who does a radiomix show, and still apparently hits the club scene. I like to listen to public radio, bake Christmas cookies, and lay on the couch and read "Harry Potter." Oh good grief, WHEN did I turn into an old lady? (And when did I start using expressions like "good grief"?)

This turn of events is NOT helping my current "I-feel-old" crisis.

I hate birthdays! They make me neurotic!!! I plucked 15 grey hairs while at conference last week. I am getting laugh lines and crow's feet like crazy. And that biological clock is making nothing but cacophony.

I need something else to obsess about.

Let's face it, I'm old

My lesson from the past week is this: Putting on a four-day conference for 1,000+ people is hard. Really, really hard.

I returned from Spokane last night, and I am completely exhausted. As in, falling-asleep-on-my-feet exhausted. I feel old.

While it required long hours of hard work, I can't exactly say that I descended into "conference hell" (except for one particular night, better left forgotten) because overall, the experience was very interesting. There were several fascinating speakers who gave their perspectives on the same thing -- improving education.

One speaker was Erin Gruwell, a high school educator who inspired her tough, gang-member students, long written off by the education system, to become high-achieving individuals. They called themselves "The Freedom Writers", and their collective work was eventually published as a book. Gruwell's story is going to be told in a movie called "The Freedom Writers," scheduled to open in theaters in January, and she is going to be played by Hilary Swank. Just a warning: If you see the movie, bring tissues. After Gruwell's talk, several members of the audience were spotted casually wiping a, uh, speck of dust of two from their eye.

Another speaker was Ian Jukes, who wigged out just about every person in the audience with his predictions of technological progress. He discussed the impact of "exponential growth," which boils down to the fact that in 15 years, computers will be a kazillion times faster and cost $1.50. (I am only slightly exaggerating.) His question was: How does this affect our approach to education?

My question is: How does this affect our interaction with one another? After hearing Jukes' presentation, I started obsessing on the inevitability of a worldwide human disconnect. It seems counterintuitive, I know -- with all the technology advancements, human beings will be increasingly connected to one another. But, it seems to me, they will become increasingly isolated from one another, too.

Again, I feel old. Is this what people thought when telephones were invented? Radio? TV? Am I just resistant to technology? Am I an old fogey? I hate cell phones, and I don't even know how to text message. I am happy as can be living sans crackberry. The fact that I even know how to blog is a modern-day miracle, as far as I'm concerned. Sheesh, I am old, old, old.

Well, now that the conference is over, I can go back to a normal existence, which means:
1) I go back to working a regular 8-to-5 day.
2) I have time and, more importantly, energy to run.
2) I have time to indulge in a nice, old-fashioned book, with words written on real paper pages, not a computer screen. So, now I am going to bed to curl up and read "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince." ("Harry Potter?," you ask. I know, I know. My love of Harry Potter was completely unexpected.) I already knows who is going to die at the end of the book, thanks to an article in The Olympian, but that's OK.

Have a listen

Leaving for a conference in Spokane in a few minutes, so I'm a bit frazzled, but wanted to pop into my blog quickly.

Last Monday, on Election Eve, Melissa Block of "All Things Considered" did a story on the guys who do voiceovers for negative campaign ads. Did you hear it? If not, click here and have a listen. This is non-partisan fun! Stick with it to the end of the segment -- the "ads" at the end will make you laugh! They had me in stitches.

If I were a serious blogger, I would have written about this a week ago. But ah well...

My new favorite

Tonight I indulged in one of my new favorite treats: a Starbucks non-fat steamer with a shot of maple. I call this invention a "buttery nutkin."

If you like the taste of butterscotch, I highly recommend the buttery nutkin.

In an ongoing effort to kick caffeine (a losing battle for the most part), I have taken to getting these non-fat steamers (ie, steamed skimmed milk) with a shot or two of flavor, and I tell you, they are delicious.

Why did the salmon cross the road?

Steven M. Herppich / Copyright The Olympian

Yes, that is a salmon making its way across the road.

And yes, badmonkey, it is wet and dreary out here. Hours of darkness and torrential rainfalls have made for a few miserable days. Time to start the Prozac, the official state pharmaceutical.

I know, it is Seattle (almost), so what can you expect? But still, 3.4 inches of rain in one day is unusual enough (thank God) to be the topic of conversation around the water cooler.

I came home last night to find SMH cleaning up our flooded basement, which incidentally has no drain. Happy Birthday to me!

Now, so much to write about -- the weather, the elections, K-Fed filing for a divorce from Britney, my rapid descent into workplace burn-out -- I just don't have time. I have to go watch Dan Rather's election commentary in hopes of gleaning some inspirational similes, though nothing could really beat his classic, "This race is tight like a too-small bathing suit on a too-long ride home from the beach," could it?

Crabby McCrabberson

I am insanely crabby today, and I don't have much to write.

So, please, talk amongst yourselves. I'll give you a topic:
Lance Armstrong and the NYC Marathon. How fast will he run?

Care to make a wager?

I scream, you scream...

Every city and state
Has something so great,
It sets them apart from the rest.

And each one maintains
That it holds the reins
For delivering the world's very best.

Kentucky breeds mares,
Montana has bears,
And our friend Idaho grows potaters.

Georgia's got peaches
The Carolinas have beaches
While Florida lays claim to its 'gators.

Wisconsin has cheeseheads
Alaska's got dogsleds
California boasts surfers and skaters.

In Kansas there's corn crops,
Out here we've got raindrops,
Heck, even the moon has its craters.

But there's nothing on earth
Like the place of my birth,
And I'd gladly send in some invaders

To fetch me the treat
That's got all others beat
And makes us sad to be out-of-staters

For we only can dream
Of a cone with ice cream
From Ohio's own heaven called "Graeter's."

So friends be aware
that an ice cream so rare
is made in your very own state.

And move if you dare
But no cone will compare
To the one that is truly "the Graet"!



















Love = Graeter's ice cream

Thanks, Mary Alice!

My faux pas

Yikes. So it turns out that the person giving away "Charlotte's Web" for a Halloween treat last night (see below) was neither a hippie nor a dentist, as I had originally suspected. No, it was Chris Gregoire, the governor of our fair state.

Sorry, Governor. I meant no offense. It's just that, to me, "Charlotte's Web" is only a childhood treat if you enjoy the feeling of having your young, innocent heart ripped to shreds. Could a child endure a sadder story than that of Charlotte? Oh, how that tragic tale torments me to this day!

But giving away books is a good way to promote literacy...so...um...yay, way to go, Governor!

If I were giving out books, I'd go for Flat Stanley, no doubt about it. I still pull that little gem off my bookshelf for a bedtime read.

If you too are a fan of Flat Stanley (Mary T., I'm talking to you), you must check out this photo essay of FS's trip to the White House. Flat Stanley, you better not mess with Condi!