The Workingman's Holiday

2014 Dungeness Crab Extravaganza

Labor Day weekend was spent on the Oregon coast with friends.  Hours were spent catching, cleaning, and eating crab.  Early morning fishing outings netted a nice salmon, and the beach provided a beautiful playground for four boys to adventure for hours.

2015 - Same lineup!

Over the course of the weekend I thought a lot about celebrating this holiday of Labor.  A quick Google search validated my thoughts.  Labor day is indeed a day to celebrate "the workingman's holiday".  A day to give tribute to the contributions that men and women have given to the health, well-being, and prosperity of our country.  All of us on the trip were hard-working, child-rearing, tax-paying citizens and it was a grand three days off from our working woes.  Go us, we all deserved an extra day off.
I've worked a job since I was 12 years old.  My first summer job was running a small gift shop in the town of Montague, CA.  My parents "robbed a train", gave wagon rides, and I got to work at the Opera House.  I was in charge of my own cash register and daily inventory of trinkets purchased.  On nights when the train ran in the evenings, I actually got to work in the restaurant pouring lemonade or iced tea to patrons.  It was there that Mrs. Montague taught me the proper way to pour into a glass from a pitcher.  It takes the right angle to not slosh ice.  I don't remember what I earned, but I can guarantee that it wasn't much.  It wasn't about the money, it was about the sense of pride I felt with the responsibility given to me.

I think I worked there for at least a couple of summers.  Soon after that, I began babysitting very consistently and then moving wheel lines for a ranch that was right below our house.  I got up early every day during the summer and walked or rode my bike about a mile to the shop.  The grass was wet and cold and sometimes the motor of the four-wheeler or the movers wouldn't start.  I earned $2.00 a wheel line and could move about 17 in a little under two hours.  By the time I was done, I smelled like fuel, had dirt under my fingernails, and my clothes were ruined.  Only to do it all over again ten hours later.  As an employee, I was a bit of a trainwreck to have on the ranch.  My wheellines weren't always straight, I sometimes ran over things I shouldn't, and I had a habit of losing hammers or other metal pieces in the alfalfa fields.  Whichever boy running the swather on that cutting would begrudgingly find them for me.  Between moving water twice a day, I watched three kids for the ranch family.  A paycheck was earned every two weeks.  Again, I didn't do the job because I needed the money.  The work happened because it made me feel good, a feeling I can now associate with validation.

Even during college I worked.  I remember the conversation with my mom distinctly.  "But, you don't HAVE to work, are you sure you want to do this?".  In the midst of taking 17 - 20 units, being on a collegiate triathlon team, training, and living away from home, I also took on the job of being a nanny for a family.  Once home from college, I realized that having a job without feeling dirty and smelling like gasoline all of the time - might be a bonus.  It was a hard conversation to let the ranch know I wouldn't be working for them again.  Despite all of my mistakes, they really thought I did a nice job.  After a couple summers at Sears selling washing machines, it was time to further my education.  Even when going on in grad school I still worked several days a week as a substitute teacher.  Again, I didn't have to.  I was financially sound.  I wanted to.  I was intrinsically motivated.  Teaching for eight years, running a small family farm, and now I'm working harder than ever in my second year as a principal.

God Bless America, thank you for that one day off a year.  Thank you for acknowledging that my hard work and paychecks have helped benefit our country and the economy.

All I can hope is that my children can see the benefits of hard work from their parents.  I hope they can see that it's not always easy, that work is indeed difficult, but that the rewards come bountifully.  I love the idea that "if you do what you love, you won't have to work hard another day in your life", but I don't believe in ultimatums and I think that's a bunch of crap.  No matter what you do, or how much you love what you do, you will have hard days and work will strain you.  For it isn't without the hard times, that we can appreciate the beauty of life.

Nice shot Carter!

Getting ready for opening day of rifle season!

Carter gets out of school every day at 2:15.  Three days a week, Carter packs "shop clothes" in his backpack along with his snack and green folder, and his dad picks him up from school.  The two of them return to the shop and Carter spends the next two and a half hours or so folding shop towels, cleaning the bathroom, and/or working on trucks with his dad.  Each day he's responsible for filling out his time card in order to redeem his $2 and hour every two weeks.  Carter doesn't HAVE to work.  The kid has anything he needs and the opportunity to attend a wonderful after-school program each day.  He chooses to work alongside his dad and earn extra cash.  Extra cash he brings with him to football games, only to spend on his little brother or friends.  Extra cash he donates to tip-jars of musicians playing downtown Bandon over Labor Day weekend.  

Whatever you do in life, do it well, smile, and have fun - but don't expect it to be unicorns and rainbows every day of the week.  Even if you are netting 200 crab, and a 27 pound salmon with the best friends that money couldn't every buy.

Goodbye Summer Vacation

Technically speaking summer hasn't ended yet.  However, today is my very last day of summer vacation and next week is the boys' last.  The end of late nights and freedom from hectic schedules is always sad, but I worked off an on all summer and the band-aid was easier to rip off.  Looking back over our summer, I feel that it was a lengthy break that was equally full of excitement and relaxation.

Here's some of our stats:
1 outdoor movie night
2 batches of homemade ice cream
1 trip to the Berry Patch
1 week of Soccer Camp and hosting a British Coach
1 day at Lake Siskiyou
1 trip to the local county fair
2 visits to 2 different local museums
2 summer concerts
2 epic running adventures
1 new puppy
1 Summer Car Show
2 days on Trinity
1 Mountain lake
2 Waterslide Parks
1 Beach trip
1 Day at Disneyland and CA Adventure
1 celebrity spotting - Kardashians!
1 educational conference
8 days in Mexico
9 days of swim lessons
Many bike rides/runs - some even with berry picking
Numerous trips to the river
Lots of visits to pools
Evenings on our new patio with cocktails and the bouncy house - too many to count

We've got a crabbing trip to look forward to over Labor Day weekend and then a stress free Fall.  The pumpkins in our own garden will be enough to keep us sentimental, but I sure didn't miss the endless weeding this summer.

Cheers to the end of an awesome summer vacation and the beginning of another great school year!  May your number two pencils stay sharp and your summer memories stay vivid.

31 for 31

A few years ago I read an article/blog about a guy who ran his age each year on his birthday.  I coincidentally had accomplished this on my 26th birthday, which also happened to be my golden celebration as well.  This year, about a week or so prior to the big day I decided to register for a 50K or "ultra".  I generally run one long run of 10-12 miles a week, but other than that I haven't done many long training runs.  The extent of my mileage this summer was the 22 miles I helped out with on the Wild Rogue Relay.  I knew that I could finish a 31 mile/50K run even if I had to crawl, and I thought it would be exciting to run 31 miles on the eve of my 31st birthday.

So on a Friday night I began to get grumpy and nervous.  I packed and unpacked my trail running backpack.  Too much possibility of chafing.  I screwed and rescrewed my water bottle toppers.  Too much leakage.  I lamented over long sleeves or arm warmers.  Compression socks or regular?  But ultimately I started to really doubt myself.  On not a lot of sleep I awoke at 4am, loaded into the Subaru and drove up to Mt. Ashland.  That's right, not only was it 31 miles, but it was a trail run at altitude, with steep inclines and declines.  If I wasn't nervous enough, I pull into the parking lot and it's full of neon compression and trail runner sinewy muscle.  There was stretching, warm-ups, machismo talk.  I became even more nervous.  It didn't matter that I'd run 26.2 miles many, many, times, 31.8 sounded like so. .  .  much.  .  . more.  My good friend and her husband were running the 15K and they pumped me up before the run.  Truthfully, I think they wanted to remind me to take it easy.  The gun went off, and I plodded on.

Interestingly enough, the run mirrored a lot of my life.  The first ten miles were easily recalled at the yearly/mile markers with birthdays or favorite teachers.  Basically from birth to ten years old, and from miles 0-10, life was pretty sweet.  I cruised through.  Many happy memories, lots of friends, the miles just flew by.  Miles 12 and 13 were pretty rough for me.  Similarly, Jr. High was not a highlight.  I was awkward, kids were mean, and school was not my favorite place.  Miles 14-18 treated me a bit better.  My braces came off, high school was fun, boys noticed me, I had a good group of friends, college was nearing.  I worked independently through those years and earned money.  I had a slight hiccup at mile 16, and that's when I got into a really gnarly car accident.  I can still remember how pretty that 1980 white pickup looked with a big purple bow, and how mad my dad was when he met me at the hospital.

Miles 19-21 were full of beautiful scenery.  I was in love and newly married.  I graduated college, moved out of my parents' house, and into a 780 square foot cozy home with my husband.  Life was beautiful.  Up until this point on the course I didn't really need to walk.  I was taking in salt tablets and food.  I had managed.  However from miles 21-24ish I had to walk quite a bit.  Actually, almost the whole way.  It was steep, rugged, and hot.  My stomach started acting up, and my quads were shot.  I began to doubt myself, my ability to finish.  These years of my life were challenging.  I was working, going back to school, which was 2 hours away, nurturing a new marriage, and then, we lost our first born child.  At this point in my life, I doubted my own ability to go on.  To trust that everything would be okay.  I can still recall laying in bed and waking up in the middle of the night sobbing because the pain was just so great.  Asking my mom and dad to call me when they left and arrived at different destinations.  Imagining that something would happen to Bradley on his way to or from work.  Getting pregnant again and worrying the.  .  .  entire.  .  .  time.  But slowly, somewhere between when my watch ticked off mile 24 and mile 25 I began to run again.  I actually counted my steps.  100 walking, 100 running, 100 walking, 100 running.  I was stronger than the discomfort and the pain.  Just like that 25 year old, I could handle the steps of life.  I kept running, I kept living.  Prior to this race, the longest I had ever run was 28 miles, which was the year in my life when my dad passed.  Both unknown territories.  Living without him, and running beyond that number.  I made it to mile 29 and I felt proud.  Miles 29-30 were hard work, much like the last year of my life as a first year principal and working mom, but they were so rewarding.  I didn't focus on the negative but was able to reflect on what I had accomplished to get to that point in the run.

The best part of the race?  The finish.  Not because it's like beating your head against the wall and you feel better when you stop.  Nope.  My family was waiting for me and cheering me on.  My mom had driven Bradley, the boys, and our new puppy Mary up to the mountain.  Carter ran across the finish line with me.

It wasn't a race for time, just like life shouldn't be raced.  It was roughly six hours out of the last 271,560 that I have spent living this life.








This past month has been busy with cousins' week in Carlsbad, running, biking, waterslides, trips to the river, swim lessons, and mom being a CA Champion for Change.  Stay tuned, the casting agency from the state just called and they want this Champion for Change in their next round of videos.  .  .

10 Years Young

Bradley and I just returned from eight days in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.  Let me tell you, nothing says "I love You" quite like reeling in Marlin and Tuna in the Sea of Cortez.  Actually, true love was spending the $100 on the motion sickness patches.  A little spendy, but worth the extra pesos.

Bradley and I got married ten years ago on his family's property.  Barely 21, and living on love, it's hard to believe that ten years have passed.  When you spend eight days in paradise without children, you get to talk a lot.  We both shared that we truly love each other more than the day we got married.  It isn't always easy, and you don't feel in love every second of every day, but we are both very grateful for the life that we have built together.

Enough of the mushy mushy.  I have to give all of the credit for this once in a lifetime trip to my man.  He booked the whole trip and even managed to score first class seats with our airline miles.






Bradley took full advantage of the free drinks in first class and while I took a nap he decided to fill out the immigration forms a bit inebriated.  Customs officers in Mexico are nothing like the friendly ones that greeted us upon our arrival back into the states.  We were greeted with a gruff, "No, no, no, Amigooooo.  You fill it out wrong.  You stand over there."  That sobered us up real quick.  We managed to get the correct info down, and were greeted by Bradley's second cousin Robert.

Thus began a week where we were treated very well by people who came to Cabo when it was still a small fishing village.  Robert and Minerva have since built a very well-known fishing company and bait/tackle shop.  EVERYONE knew them.  They not only treated us to deep sea fishing twice (once on a 6.5 million dollar yacht), but also to dinner at a 120 year old farm, and numerous meals in local dives which produced the most delicious food I've ever eaten.  It was a delight to drive around with them and listen to the narration of the history of Cabo.

When we weren't living the local lifestyle you could find us drunk and/or napping by our hotel pool or body surfing in the ocean.  I ran every day on the beach and we also walked the shoreline together every day.  We got pretty good at saying "No, Gracias"and "Cerveza".  Highlights included enjoying the tuna that we had caught ourselves, enjoying room service pizza from a pool lounge and watching the sunset, eating dinner prepared at a 120 year old farm with some key players from the Cabo community, watching the night life unfold downtown, fishing, and simply enjoying each other.

You know it's been a good trip when the worst thing that happens is you miss your kids terribly.  However, we'll be back to Los Cabos, with kids, and it won't take another ten years.

We celebrated the 4th of July last night at the Isbells with lots of family and friends.  Since school got out, we've been going non-stop.  Soccer camp ended and Bradley continued to host (read treat them link Kings including numerous meals and a trip to Trinity Lake as a single father) not one but TWO British soccer coaches, Carter got the flu, and I took off on a 230 mile relay on Father's Day Weekend. I ended up with the flu halfway through my first leg of the relay, but it wasn't anyting sleeping in a high school football field, Pepto, and 15 trips to a high school bathroom with 200 of my newest friends didn't fix.  It was a good thing we were heading to Mexico the day after that weekend, because otherwise we might not have made it to our anniversary.  :)  Bradley is truly super dad.

This blog post has taken a few switchbacks, but want I really want to convey is that I feel so blessed to live this life of mine with my husband and our kids.  I can't wait to see what the next ten years brings.  

There's a First Time for Everything

Growing up without TV, movies - no TV, we read a lot of books and had a lot of books read to us.  We also had to eat a lot of bananas.  I now don't really consider myself a big reader and I don't like bananas.  Nothing on my upbringing, I've just found I don't like to sit still long enough to finish a book, and bananas make me gag.  Regardless, whilst growing up we listened to a lot of The Berenstain Bears.  Papa and Mama Bear sure did have a lot to say about the world, but one thing that really stuck with me was something Papa Bear said.  "There's a first time for everything."  There was a first time I listened to a book and a first time I had a banana.  Everything I've done has had a first time.  There's many more things I want to do in life and those first times haven't come yet.

This last school year was filled with a lot of "first times".

First Time.  .  .
Carter went to school.
I was a principal.
Miles was alone without his brother.
Carter learned to read and write.
I learned how to make my skin thicker.
I had pink eye.  (Last day of school, who knew)
Carter got a Green Card.
I wrote a Suspension Letter.

Carter and Mom's first day of school!

Carter's final days of Kindergarten!

This list goes on and on.  Overall, it was an outstanding year.  I mean outstanding.  We are so lucky to have such an amazing elementary school for Carter to attend.  In fact, our entire district is remarkable.  We are relatively newly unified and we were recently named the #2 school district in CA based on "bang for your buck".  Test scores, class sizes, and median home values.  Pretty good considering we lost to a wealthy Bay Area school district.

We couldn't have asked for a funnier or more compassionate teacher to introduce Carter to the next twelve years of public school.  Thank you Mr. Merrihew.

I'm sure that year two will be full of firsts.  (That's right, I just signed another one year contract.  Admin contracts are normally written in one to three year increments. )  I can't wait to see what fun awaits for Carter in 1st grade, Miles in his last year at Eileen's, and myself in my second year.  However, for now.  I'm looking forward to celebrating ten years of marriage to my best friend in the entire world.  We're feeling guilty leaving our kids for eight days, but there's a first time for everything.  I'm running 230 miles this weekend with 11 of my running buddies and then it's off to Cabo we go.

We've already started our summer off with more firsts.  We've hosted an English "football" coach for a week.

Jake's been a delight and he's had a few firsts of his own here in Scott Valley.  Cheers to a summer of firsts!

Mother Runner

On my 30th birthday this year, a good friend of mine gave me a pair of tall running socks emblazoned with the words "Mother Runner".  It certainly is a great play on words with a sly appeal.  I do love to run, and I have a decently strong personality.  I can't say the words "Mother Fu####" loosely, but it rhymes and still has the perfect amount of intensity.  I am able to get my tired behind out of bed by 4:45 six mornings a week to run or lift weights.  Nothing takes the stress away or creates a new canvas for the day quite like a run.  Some of the best are when the boys ride their bikes or sit in the stroller and talk to me.

This Mother's Day I was treated to a Mother's Day Party at school.  I got to put on my mom hat for a while and the principal was indisposed.  My cute Kinder greeted me at the door with his arm out and escorted me to my chair, which he also pulled out for me.  He then got a me a plate of fruit, and managed to sneak in a few chocolate donuts onto his own plate.  "I know you like to eat healthy mom!"  He presented me with a nice book all about me and then sang some very nice songs to all the moms with his class.





The book was full of "fill in the blanks" about your mom and hand drawn pictures. With all of my background in education, I'm always looking at how kids draw pictures.  You know what they say about kids who only draw their parents frowning or are pushing so hard with their crayon.  .  .  Luckily, I was smiling in all of my pictures AND the crayon lines appeared faint.  Carter made sure to only guess I weighed 50 pounds, "because I didn't want to be impolite mom", and he made a few references to running.  If my mom had more time she would_______________________ (run).  My mom really loves________________________(running), I think he was supposed to write himself there.  Whoops.

That's okay, buddy.  I do love running.  It makes me a better mommy.  He did however write quite a bit about how I play with him, and that my favorite thing to do with him is play baseball.  A cute cookbook was also included.  In this piece Carter decided to write about how well I make Mac and Cheese.  It's organic folks, okay.  

Miles also made a nice fill in the blank piece about his mother on Mother's day.  He pretty much nailed it with "she would do it right away".   He also got a huge kick out of the flower arrangement he gave me which included Baby's Breath.  "Can you believe it mom?  It's called Baby's Breath."

Mother's Day morning was spent eating an Isbell Men cooked brunch with all of the ladies in the family at Marcia's house.  What a treat to spend the morning across generations and with cousins.  Miles was the waffle man.  Our original plan was to hike into Ruffey Lake, but by my second Mimosa I decided that a quicker hike into Hidden would best suit my afternoon nap agenda.

It was a really nice day.  One in which my kids know me so well.  Nothing else quite fits me like Mother Runner.  Certainly not Mother Baseball Player, or Mother Mac and Cheeser, or Mother Snuggler.  Mother Runner, that's me.  

Miles turns four!

Technically, the interview happened one week and a day after the actual birthday, but I feel it's pretty accurate.

What is your name?  M - I - L - E - S

What is your favorite color?  Green

What do you want to be when you grow up?  A grown up

Who is your best friend?  All of them.  Like Savi, Savina, Clara, Adrian, Ella, Brady, my brother is my best, best, friend.  

What is your favorite food?  Basghetti and Mac and Cheese

What is your favorite thing to do?  Help my daddy.

Who is your favorite animal?  Rocky our horse.

What is one thing you don't like?  Sushi

What can you do now that you are a big boy?  Listen and help.

What was your favorite part of your trip to San Francisco?  Opening my presents.

Where do you like to go to eat?  The pub.  

Instead of a party, we took off to San Francisco for Miles' 4th birthday.  After a LOOOONNNGGG tball game on Thursday evening, we took off in the Subaru.  The boys woke up just in time to go over the Bay Bridge under the lights.  We awoke Friday morning, ordered some chocolate milk from room service, and enjoyed a nice breakfast (read pancakes and bloody Marys).  

From there we hopped on a Big Red Bus and began our whirlwind day. The first stop was in Chinatown.  Armed with $20 each, they made some interesting purchases in the trinket filled shops.  For Miles it was a Golden Crystal and a tiny Thimble.  Carter chose a Ninja costume.  Packing our new treasures along with us, we took in more sights from high in the sky and ended up at the Wharf for lunch.  We wrapped up our time at the wharf with sea lion sightings and street performers.  A small nap for all of us made sure we were prepped for the Giant's game.

Bradley scored sweet seats for Friday evening, only 11 rows behind the Giant's bullpen.  This seating was ominous as we were able to watch at least four pitchers warm up.  It was a terrible game - Giant's lost 0-9, but the fireworks at the end were nice.  By the end of the game, the bright lights of the stadium were triggering a headache for me.  Unfortunately, this morphed into the worst migraine I've ever had.  I had no medication on me, but our insurance allows for a doctor to phone in a prescription.  This was good in that I was able to get it under control, but unfortunately the prescription was sent to what would nicely be described as the ghetto.  Bradley had the boys with him and chalked it up as another cultural experience.

We made a trip to the hotel pool before heading down to the Ferry building for some lunch.  A ride on an old street car was enjoyable.  We made our way back down to the wharf where the highlight of the afternoon was some time at the arcade.  This was NOT the adults' highlight, but the kids enjoyed it.  Another nap was enjoyed before we took off for Miles' fancy birthday dinner.  Our restaurant was overlooking the water, Miles got to enjoy basghetti, and the kids were well behaved.  I brought some party hats, a number four candle, and we got to sing to the birthday boy.  After we finished dinner we walked down to the beach.  Miles let a homeless man know it was his birthday, and the man replied with, "Happy Birthday to you, put a bill in my shoe".  This jingle is still being sung at least once a day, a week later.  We walked further down and found some live music in a restaurant.  Miles danced away for over an hour in front of people he didn't know.  What a way to cap off your birthday evening!

Sunday morning was full of surprises.   We walked on the Golden Gate Bridge and took a tour of the Jelly Belly factory.  Carter was adventurous and tried "booger" and "stinky socks" flavored Jelly Beans.  

The birthday celebration rounded out on Monday when Miles enjoyed a pinata and cupcakes with his friends at Eileen's.  I really can't believe that he is four years old.  I do believe it was an amazing birthday for Miles, and our whole family.  You can't put a price of life experiences, that is of course unless it's your birthday and you need to place a bill in a homeless man's shoe.