This was an unfortunate frisbee accident.
Not a terrible black eye, but I think it looks worse in person.
Stretching on a foam roller:
Climbing a ladder:
just generally being dangerous and scary.
This guy.
He doesn’t let you know when he’s doing something really awesome because he doesn’t want to brag, so I will brag for him. Last weekend he entered the open class (read: the top riders) at a race in Casper’s Park. He came in sixth place, 15 seconds out of fourth place. The first three finishers were pro riders. That’s just crazy.
Even Jackie got in on the excitement!
Another reason to love this crazy, expensive state. A four-hour drive brings one to the Imperial Sand Dunes and an endless vista of sand. The sand is beautiful, smooth, and powdery, and the mountains and valleys of it are impressive and formidable.
Sunrise over the Salton Sea.
Josh likes to do a large road bike ride on New Year’s Day callee Critical Mass. it’s a century ride (100 miles) and a ton of riders attend.
See this video of an old one to get an idea:
This year he said he was in the top five riders at the front of the pack! A picture his friend captured:
And another one without josh to show how large the group was:
The Urbanskis (our next door neighbors) took us all on an adventure to the La Brea Tar Pits. I learned a lot at this fascinating place that i have not visited since I was little. In the middle of Los Angeles, in fact, right on miracle mile, asphalt still bubbles up from the ground. Archeologists are working, even now, to extract fossils from the sticky black substance. Mammoths, mastodons, horses, Sabre-toothed cats, and direwolves all roamed the area long before concrete came around.
Like pulling the sword from the stone, try to lift the metal poles from Tar and see what the animals were facing.
Dire wolf skulls:
Nearby art at LACMA
Then we explored the current Tar Pits.
what a fun and interesting day!
I’m struggling this Christmas.
I want to make it magical for my kids–because my Christmases growing up were magical–but those memories make me sad. I can’t help but think back on Christmas Eves snuggled next to my mom and little brother reading The Polar Express. I remember the feeling of being awoken by Riley on Christmas morning, letting me know that Santa had come. Or both Riley and I being awoken by our dad (we were great sleepers). Of climbing excitedly into my parents’ bed and waiting while one of them went downstairs to start the coffee. As I think about how I can make my boys’ Christmas as exciting and wonder-filled, I can’t help but stumble, again and again, on the deep dark hole of my own loss.
My brother. My co-pilot on the journey of childhood.
Even tonight, I realized I was looking forward to spending time with my brother, the adult, and only then did I remember that I wouldn’t be seeing him. Not on Christmas, or anywhere else in my life on Earth. I try to tell myself that at least i know he is safe…but even knowing where he is doesn’t make my own grief feel any better. I feel loss so acutely. It’s like a hot ember I hold in my hand. I am shielding it from the world because it’s private, it’s mine; also because I don’t know who would understand, or who to talk to who isn’t tired of hearing about it. Even if I knew who to talk to, I don’t have any more words to say.
I’m just so sad.
That’s all that comes to mind, over and over.
So I sit here, drowning quietly in my grief, watching time pass so quickly with my kids, trying to give them a glimpse of an experience that is so out of reach for me now, for so many reasons.
Josh and Korey 