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My Tidy Little Habit

We are all creatures of habit, whether those habits include leaving piles of dirty socks in odd places all over the house or hitting the snooze button 10 times before we actually get out of bed. Oftentimes our habits do nothing but annoy our spouses or make us as round as bowling balls but occasionally they can be of good use.

Jason and I are far from lazy but between working hard and working hard at having fun there aren’t enough hours in the day for everything we need to get done. Hence, it’s often proven difficult for us to keep up with our housework even when we have the best of intentions. We used to clean in massive clumps because we couldn’t find time to do so otherwise but a few months ago I decided to put an end to this manic straightening. I devised a plan to encourage housework to become as much a part of our regular routine as brushing our teeth or putting on a fresh pair of underwear each morning. (Jason often overlooks applying daily deodorant so I won’t use that as an example of an established habit.)

Now that's a face no scum can resist.

I instituted “cleaning night” and now Jason and I spend an evening every week attacking our house with dusters and mops from top to bottom. Cleaning night has proven quite effective. Our house stays pretty tidy these days and if it does grow unruly putting it back in order isn’t an insurmountable task. I’ll admit that all the summer yard work and vacations have made it considerably harder to keep the cleaning constant but we’ve managed to stay on top of it reasonably well because I’m too obstinate to give up on any of my cockeyed ideas.

Now that our house doesn’t suffer from dust neglect I’m preparing to implement phase II of my habitual ploy. You know all those deep cleaning projects that you never ever have time for: the cupboards, the pantry, vacuuming under the bed, etc? Well, I have schemed up a way to get them all completed regularly. I have compiled a list of all these never-dones and Jason and I are going to take one of them on every week until they’re finished, at which point we’ll begin cycling through the list once again. These deep projects will be tackled in addition to our regular cleaning night. Yes, our lives are going to be even more packed, which doesn’t seem possible, but at least our cupboards will be tidy. Sadly, time is always a casualty in the war for neatness.

Between yard work and house work and regular work, life doesn’t give one much of a break. Jason and I sometimes lose whole weeks without anything to show for it except sparkly bathtubs and a happy yard. This seems to be an all too common complaint among the chronically busy. Regardless, I think cleaning night is a keeper. I would recommend a straightening ritual to anyone. Why should date night have the monopoly on breaking a sweat?

Rachel May 29, 2012 No Comments

Onions and Needles

Twice a year Jason and I head to Moab; these trips are nearly as constant as the ebb and flow of the tides. This spring we had a hard time finding an open weekend to visit our favorite adventure hub but somehow we squished it in. How can you not make time for Moab?

Crossing Onion Creek over and over was delightful and messy. I'm not usually that thrilled to be that soggy.
One prickly pear blooming in the desert is lovelier than a garden full of roses.

On this outing we again hit a couple new biking and hiking spots. It seems like no matter how many times we go to Moab there is always new terrain to explore. We biked 20 miles to the Fisher Valley Ranch and back via Onion Creek Canyon. Although this sandy bouncy road definitely wasn’t on the upper end of the technically challenging scale, the unfit would probably find it unfit for cycling due to its persistent climbs. For us though it was as tempting as a cup of hot cocoa in a snowstorm. All those bumpy hills strewn in unnatural looking reds, greens, grays, and yellows practically begged our tires to tread on them and we were happy to oblige. The dreamlike scenery kept our eyes popping but the best part of this ride was its 52 river crossings, and no, that was not a typo. Jason and I got to navigate our bikes through Onion Creek 52 fabulous times. It goes without saying that we did not return to our car dry. And, thanks to a 25 MPH wind that whipped the endless supply of sand into our faces, I didn’t even return to our car looking human. Instead I resembled what would happen if a stinkbug and a sandman produced unfortunate offspring. They really should never have kids together. Despite the gritty gusts that literally picked up our bikes on occasion and turned me into walking sandpaper, we thoroughly enjoyed this ride. I would recommend Onion Creek to those who aren’t super confident in their off-road skills but don’t mind a good workout or a wet crotch.

This is an untouched photo, as hard as that is to believe. Onion Creek was really that red and otherwordly looking.
That smudge of dust is not the workings of a camera lens gone awry but rather the sandy minions of an aggressive breeze.
In the narrows of Onion Creek Canyon my bike kept tilting toward the river gorge far below thanks to that tricky wind.

The second part of our adventure took us to The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park. Canyonlands is comprised of three separate sections that are divided by the Colorado and Green Rivers. While we’ve hit the Island in the Sky District before, we’ve never made the 65 mile journey south of Moab to see The Needles until now.

Misshapen rocks littered The Needles' landscape.
We came across this rattler in The Needles just a foot from our trail. Later we discovered that it was a midget-faded rattlesnake, one of the deadliest vipers in North America. Apparently they're quite reclusive so a sighting is rare. Lucky us!

The Needles bore little resemblance to the Island in the Sky or anywhere else for that matter. It was a jumble of strange boulders and outcroppings. Its fingers of rock lined the horizon like ancient stone cityscapes. Everywhere you looked fields of mushroom rock popped out of the earth as if they had sprung up overnight.

This tunnel added a little claustrophobic zest to our Chesler Park hike.

We hiked to a place called Chesler Park, a peaceful scrub brush covered meadow surrounded by spires of stone that stretched toward the infinite sky. There we climbed a random rock blob and ate our lunch with a 360 degree view of the circling sandstone towers while a curious crow watched us from a few feet away.

We came across these unusual kissing petroglyphs at the top of Big Spring Canyon. Okay, so we created them with our cheesy shadows but aren't we clever!

Sunsets in the desert are glorious and not to be missed. So after our hike we relaxed above Big Spring Canyon and watched the whittled stone transform from a dull brown to a blazing red within minutes. Unlike other flames, this fire burned without a sound. In fact the world was so still at the top of that canyon it almost made your ears ache.

The Red Cliffs Lodge is frequently our hotel of choice. It is also home to the Castle Creek Winery...and this cute truck.

That concludes my account of yet another trek into Utah’s southeastern desert. If you’ve never been to Moab what are you waiting for? You could travel the whole world and not find anything comparable to the understated patient beauty of this worn landscape. It may have taken thousands of years of infinitesimal alterations to create this unique masterpiece but I would recommend not waiting that long to enjoy it.

Rachel May 23, 2012 1 Comment

G and the 3Bs

Last Saturday I rode Goldilocks, a women only noncompetitive bike ride, for the third consecutive year. I guess you could say I’m a regular porridge pounder.

While this ride was just as cute and empowering as ever, there were some minute changes this time on my end, specifically with my end, that weren’t so adorable.

Liz and I congratulated ourselves on being awesome with a little high five action.

This year I discarded all dignity and donned a pair of biking shorts, something that I swore for good reasons I would never do. And it gets worse folks. As bad as the average awfully-unattractive spandex leggings may be, the particular high-tech shorts I bought are far uglier. Not only do they revealingly stick to each unsightly body ripple but they also have seat padding that is almost an inch thick. Great. Extra stuffing: just what someone like me who has a hinny large enough to give J. Lo a run for her money needs. I looked completely grotesque in my biker’s getup but at least those stretchy constrictors were quite comfy and did make my rear ache less. I guess if beauty is pain then ugliness should feel pretty good. By the way, it may be too late at this point to warn you to avert your eyes from this post’s pictures if you easily grow queasy at the site of spandexed butt fat but consider you and your innocent children tipped off anyway.

Jason is my biggest fan. He hung out at a spot along our course waiting for us to ride by so he could take some pictures and cheer us on. There's no denying that he's the best husband ever!
The finish line was right where we had left it roughly an hour and 45 minutes before our glorious return.

It was in this shamelessly attired manner that I biked Goldilocks with my friend Liz, one of the ladies that joined me last year. We again opted to do the meager 20 mile ride, which you hardcore cyclist will rightly pooh-pooh. But our frailty does have a silver lining. For although we didn’t muster the gumption to pedal clear across the county, we did shave off about half an hour from our previous finish time without even trying. That’s right, we pedaled faster than last year’s models of us. And next time we’re really, really sure we want to do the 40 mile course. I guess that means I will need to get my bike out and start training in the middle of winter. I can’t say that having the glacial winds of winter wick all feeling out of my extremities sounds especially appealing but I am stubborn and stupid so why not.

Goldilocks, the blonde beast, was conquered once again! And in the same fell swoop any sense of dignity I might have had was also squelched. Next year may my posse and I kick 40 miles in the keister even if that means having to exhibit our hideous keisters all across the valley!

Rachel May 20, 2012 2 Comments
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