Spring Break 2012

(Miami ain't got nothing on Moab.)

Post by Tracy

(Pictures and Videos at the bottom.)

This year for Spring Break, Mom, Dad, Jennifer, Tom, & I participated in the Moab Easter Jeep Safari.  Oh, what's that?  Haven't heard of it?  Well!  It's an event that occurs each year in Moab, Utah (a very, very beautiful and very, very dry part of our country) for off-roading enthusiasts and off-roading hopefuls (read: Dad).  He's been talking about wanting to do this for a few years now.  When Mom and Dad go on their various travels, they've been known to find back-country roads that twist and turn and ride up and down, where they'll wander off for a day of exploration.  None of us had ever before done any official, organized off-roading (and if you don't think off-roading can be organized, you've never met the Red Rock 4-Wheelers club, of which my dad is one of the newest members), but we all have enough thirst for adventure that we were willing to give this type of off-roading a try.

The off-roading trails are rated on a 1-10 scale.  1 is pretty scenic, a fairly easy ride that won't include anything treacherous.  10 pretty much guarantees that your vehicle will flip, and you're gonna need a lot more specialized equipment than just an average jeep.  (Yikes!) 

Dad chose 3 trails for us to do - one for each of the days we were in Moab.  We started with a 2 on Friday - "Chicken Corners," a 3 on Saturday - "3 D," and finished with a 4 on Sunday - "Fins and Things."  It worked out perfectly, since we pretty much determined 4 was our limit.  (If you're still interested in more details, check out the description of the trails for more of an idea.) 

Also - shout out to cousin Katie and her boyfriend Scott who came down from Montana for the weekend and joined us on the trail Saturday.  Our second Easter spent with them on this side of the U.S., and I am liking this tradition.

Our vehicles?  I could tell from the minute Dad sent out an email confirming our registration that he pumped to drive Big Blue out to the event (his older F250 pick-em-up truck).  Even with its lovely little backseat, we opted to rent a second vehicle for the occasion, a spiffy red Jeep.  Friday morning, off to the trails we went.

Each morning we met up with the right group for our trail.

Everyone wanted a chance to drive, so we divided up the days and all got a shot.

 Passengers held on for the ride.

Made sure to take in the beautiful scenery.  Enjoyed picnic lunches on the trails.

Played with the panoramic settings on Jen's digital camera.  Imagined what it would be like to have an identical twin with whom I still coordinate outfits at 28 years old.

Out on that trails.

Watched Big Blue behind us tackle some of the steeper climbs and descents.  There are both advantages and disadvantages to having a heavier vehicle.  Dad's motto, a la Tim Allen: "More power!" (Grunt, grunt, grunt!)

Jennifer tackled one of the toughest climbs with grace and poise (although the video Tom took while inside the vehicle includes some gasping and "eek"ing.)

And finally, Dad and Big Blue won a round of applause from the whole group (which made up for the winch breaking off the front bumper).

Great big thanks go out to Mom and Dad for an awesome trip (and some rad souvenier t-shirts!)

Remembering Mormor

(Post by Tracy)

Saturday we had a beautiful funeral service for my grandmother who passed away on March 6. She was 89, and Dennis, Jennifer, and I were her 3 grandkids. We loved her a lot, and she will be missed, but she really did leave us with a wealth of great memories, some of which I shared in the eulogy I read on Saturday:

First, on behalf of my family, I’d like to thank you all for being here today and helping us remember and celebrate the life of my grandmother, Sylvia.

A nice part about giving her eulogy has been thinking back over the time I spent with her and remembering so many good memories. I’m so thankful that I was able to have her in my life for nearly 30 years, and even more thankful for the close relationship that Dennis, Jennifer, and I were able to have with our mormor (the Swedish term for grandma).

As I was reminiscing, the reoccurring element of all my Mormor memories was laughter. She truly loved life, and she liked to have a good time. She always enjoyed a visit, and she never wanted to miss out on the excitement. She would be the first to admit to her nosiness, wanting to know what everyone was up to all the time, but it was because she was interested and loved hearing about what was going on in the lives of her friends and family. She was easygoing, and she was able to laugh at any situation. Even though she had bad eyesight and basically couldn’t see for the last decade of her life, she was able to laugh at herself if she mistook a chair for a person and tried to talk to it. She was blunt and felt comfortable asking, “Who are you?” to the person walking into a room, and then she would laugh after recognizing their voice and give them a hug or a kiss and say how happy she was to see them.

My husband Tom mentioned this week that he especially remembers how welcoming she was, and how welcome she always made him feel, right from the very beginning of our relationship. One night our family went to dinner at Fuddruckers, a burger place where you pick up the food at the counter and have to pick up all your own condiments or toppings. Tom brought Mormor her food and pretended he was her waiter, asking what other things he could bring her. Mormor played right along, placing her drink order with Tom and commenting on what great service the restaurant had.

And she loved going out to eat, especially going out for a good burger – be it Fuddruckers, Steak and Shake, or Hackneys, where she would occasionally order something new and then state what would become our favorite Mormorism: “I should have ordered the patty melt.”

She loved food, she loved coffee, and she loved dessert. She liked her coffee black, but she liked her dessert sweet: chocolates, coffee cake, regular cake, ice cream, coffee-flavored-candies, cookies. She was good at sharing, but in a way that showed you that you must be someone pretty special that she would share something so delicious with you so willingly. For Christmas, I bought her a big bucket of bakery-made sugar cookies; her eyes lit up at the word “cookies,” and she was excited to share them with the nursing staff at Covenant Village, but she also planned on hiding them in the back of her drawer so no one would sneak them without her knowing and gobble them up.

I also remember the homemade Swedish pancakes she and Great Mormor would serve us kids on Saturday morning when we would spend the weekend at their apartment in Glenview. And I remember the delicious Sunday night dinners of Swedish meatballs, lignonberries, and mashed potatoes at their Deerfield apartment, where we would all watch “Malcolm in the Middle” together after dinner.

She liked watching Wheel of Fortune and the Frugal Gourmet. In her car, we would sing along to one of the two cassette tapes she owned: the soundtrack to Phantom of the Opera or the soundtrack to Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. Both soundtracks have a special place in my heart.

I also don’t want to leave out the memories of our amazing 3-week family trip to Sweden in the summer of 2002. As with any family vacation, there were moments that were trying, but overall that trip was full of memories that I cherish, and that (again) make me laugh, such as simply remembering the rental car situation. Mom reserved a van through Avis, the rental car company, and when we picked up our vehicle, we realized they were renting us the Avis van. I mean the white, 8-passenger, full-sized van with AVIS written on the side in big letters. For the next three weeks, dad was our Swedish bus driver, Mormor the (actual) Swedish backseat driver, and Mom the passenger who tried to pronounce the Swedish road signs for Mormor to translate and relate back to Dad. (I think he mostly relied on the road signs’ pictures!)

Because we grew up living close to Mormor (and Great Mormor, once they started living together), she was one of our best babysitters. She would drive us to ballet class, piano lessons, swim practice, ham radio class, ice skating lessons…

When Dennis and I were in grade school, taking a weekly class to earn our ham radio licenses, Mormor was in charge of taking us to class one Thursday when Mom and Dad were busy. Dennis and I were old enough to remember that the class was held at one of the libraries, but young enough to not pay attention to what library it was. Mormor drove us around, having us run inside the Deerfield library, the Highland Park library, and the Highwood library, before we eventually gave up and missed class. Why Mom and Dad neglected to tell Mormor that class was held at the Northbrook library, I don’t know, but it was another funny situation to look back on, imagining the wild-goose chase of a grandma and her grandkids trying to hunt down a random ham radio class being held in the basement classroom of one of the suburban libraries.

When Mormor took Jennifer to her ice skating lessons, she sat with me and Dennis in the stands, watching Jen practice her cross-overs and turns. There was one of those coffee machines in the lobby that dropped the paper cup and then filled it with a steaming beverage, and she would buy a coffee for herself and a hot chocolate for me and Dennis.

As we got older, we realized the fun in asking Mormor about what Mom was like as a kid. Those conversations always guaranteed a good laugh, especially if Mom was with us. It’s amazing how they would remember the same factual details: “Diane decided to paint her bedroom one afternoon when she was in high school,” but that they each had their own spin. Mom saying: “Mormor was ok with it, she knew I wouldn’t do anything to make too much trouble,” and Mormor following up with, “I never had any control over her!” which would cause Mom to gasp in defense, Mormor to burst into laughter, and Mom to crack up at the misrepresentation of her younger self. But as a mother-daughter team who spent much of my mom’s childhood and young adulthood as just the two of them, I’m sure there was a lot of laughter in that house as well, and a lot of love. As good a job Mormor did as our babysitter when we were younger, Mom did a great job caring for Mormor as she got older. I know it was hard at times, but Mom (and Dad) did so much for Mormor, and I know Mormor appreciated it and loved them all the more for that.

Even our dogs loved Mormor. Especially Buster, the golden retriever we had growing up. Buster was smart. He had Mormor trained to the point where he would recognize her walking in the back door, let her pet him hello, and then run to his dog dish where she would (without fail) give him a big scoop of dog food, regardless of whether or not he had just finished his dinner.

As her health started going downhill in the last year or so, I was still able to form more good memories of time with her. This summer she had pneumonia and was in such bad shape that she wasn’t able to speak. When we visited her at the hospital, we brought along letters that her husband Elmer had written to his family during World War II. She wasn’t able to hold a conversation, but she was able to completely understand what she heard, so we read her his letters, and it was so sweet to see the smile and calm it brought to her face.

Mormor had a great and full life. I believe she lived it to the fullest. And after so many years as a widow, I like to think of her and my mom’s dad finally together again, joining her mom (Great Mormor), and her dad (Morfar) and kindly leaving us with so many great thoughts and jokes and moments to remember her by. We love you, Mormor.

Today, Leaping with Love (too cutesy?)

For this post, I nearly had to travel back in time.

I pulled out my old laptop to start. "Ah, that familiar old sound," Tom said, as the six-year-old laptop finally loaded and started its overactive inner fan, sounding like an airplane readying for takeoff.

Then I started looking through all my old digital photos, searching for just the right ones for this post.

Basically trying to find a picture of the two of us...

But an old picture... Ideally from when we first started dating...

And I think this is it.
This is the oldest (digital) picture I have of me and Tom after we started dating.

And that was...

8 years ago! Leap Year 2004. (Happy Anniversary to me and Tom!)

But as we all know, it didn't stop there! It only got better-

-When Tom proposed 4 years later,

on Leap Year 2008!

In front of this lovely fountain (but at night), in gorgeous Charleston, South Carolina.

We got married!

And today we celebrated our first married Leap Year!

And 4 years since getting engaged!

And 8 years that we've been together!

And all the great moments in between.

Happy Leap Year 2012!

Admitting Defeat

(Post by Tracy)

I’m sitting at home, alone on my couch. I have a headache coming on. I’m about to pour myself what will probably only be my first glass of wine for the night.

It was a tough afternoon. I broke up with the Y today.

I know what you’re thinking: How can you be so upset about ending it with the YMCA? Weren’t you guys only together since, like, August? And you barely saw each other anyway. And I know, you’re right.

It’s just that I had such high hopes for us. I really thought this was going to be something special. I imagined all the evening swims we’d have together, and Saturday mornings. The Y always brought out the best in me, and when we were together, I felt so good and so good about myself.

I guess that’s the thing, though. We were rarely actually together. Neither of us made the other a true priority. Neither of us took the effort to make time for one another. And ultimately what did us in was that neither of us was willing to work around our busy schedules and try to make it work.

How can the Y be so pig-headed, expecting me to fit my workouts in around their child’s swim classes and their water aerobics? Shouldn’t the Y know by now that I work during the day, and having open swim only during the morning hours just isn’t realistic?

Yes, I do admit some fault. In the beginning, during the honeymoon stage, I would have dinner early and stay up late just to fit in a quick visit during their (ridiculously late) evening lap swim hours. I guess I should have realized what the Y was from the start, not hoping I could change it, not telling myself, Just go with it for now, eventually it’ll be better! Because isn’t that what every girl in love with the wrong man always says?

To be honest, this has been on my mind for a while now. I’ve been distant, half-heartedly thinking from time to time, I wonder how the Y would be tonight, only to sit on the couch- or worse- do a workout DVD at home instead of paying a visit. Finally, it was last week that I decided I needed to be honest with myself and honest with the Y. I needed to end this (ironically) unhealthy relationship before I was drained of everything I (financially) had.

And so I called. And can you believe what the Y said? You can’t do that over the phone. You have to do that in person.

After all that? That’s the way you’re going to treat me? This was just ridiculous, just too much.

And so I did it today. I went in person. I showed up, like the mature adult that I am, to break it off.

The man behind the counter was cordial enough. Was I “moving to a different Y location,” he asked? “No, there’s no one else,” I told him (while, to be really honest, I was remembering another attractive Y I’ve visited – only once, I swear – that keeps one lane open during all hours just for lap swimmers).

“Hey, why couldn’t you just fax me this form to fill out?” I asked, trying to sound as neutral as I could, irritated that he had forced me off my butt, during my free time, to go through with this painful (inconvenient) process.

“We do it that way to make sure it’s really you who’s doing it.” Seriously? I thought.

“We wouldn’t want to accept a cancelation from someone who is just saying they’re you on the phone, maybe someone playing a prank on you. This way we can check your ID, make sure you are who you say you are, blah, blah, blah.” Excuses, excuses, excuses! I thought, It’s always going to be this way with you, isn’t it?

I was irritated. I was annoyed. I let my frustration get the best of me. What is the reason? the form wanted to know. Oh, I’ll tell you the reason, I thought. And I did.

What one thing could we have done differently? it pleaded. I laid into it.

How would you rate your overall experience? I skipped the “excellent” box, I skipped the “good” box, and I went right ahead and checked off the “fair” box. Take that!

I handed the man the form, and he looked it over. I didn’t even make a move towards my wallet. I wanted to hear him say the words, to ask me for my identification so he could prove I was who I was, so he could validate all his excuses.

He looked up at me then. “Ok, thanks,” he said. He put the paper down on the desk, indicating that our conversation was through.

“Aren’t you going to ask for my ID?” I said.

“No. I believe you.”

Speechless.

“Are you making trouble?” he asked. I didn’t even know what he was trying to do anymore. My emotions felt twisted and confused. I felt used and manipulated. I started to answer him, “No, I’m not,” I said. “It’s just…”

And I turned my back on him, started and then trailed off, “I just wish…” and let those classic break-up words carry me to my car, and ultimately home.

A Toast to Twenty-Eight

(Post by Tracy)

Betcha didn't think I'd be coming back to finish telling you about November, huh? I was starting to wonder that myself!

Nonetheless!

The second weekend in November was fabulous as well. It was the weekend before my birthday, so I decided to claim it as My Birthday Weekend. Conveniently, it was also a long weekend because of Veteran's Day.

Since moving to L.A., we have visited the Santa Barbara area a few times with Tom's family, but we hadn't yet spent more than a day, and we hadn't yet taken advantage of the fact that it is considered Southern California's "Wine Country." (In case you forgot - and how dare you - Tom and I spent part of our honeymoon in Sonoma - part of California's better-known and larger "Wine Country" near San Francisco that includes Napa. We looooved it and daydreamed of retirement in Wine Country. Because that's what you're supposed to do when you're 25 years old and honeymooning - dream of retirement, right?)

Anyway, in my searching and planning for My Birthday Weekend, I read about a town in Santa Barbara County called Solvang, dubbed The Danish Capital of America. The word "solvang" is Danish for "sunny field." Sound adorable? Yeah, I thought so, too. And it was. We spent Thursday night through Sunday and had an awesome time.

Friday: We splurged (Birthday Weekend, remember?) and paid for a jeep tour around the Santa Ynez Valley that included tastings at 4 wineries and a picnic lunch. They picked us up and dropped us off at the hotel, and it was us and one other couple - who we obviously became great friends with by the end of our 4th wine tasting. Reminiscent of our honeymoon, and such fun! Pictures:

Doesn't the pick-up truck in the field just scream Grapes of Wrath?

With our new besties, Kayley and Jeff

Saturday: I had planned that we would visit some of the wine tasting rooms in the city of Solvang, especially convenient because of Solvang's small and walkable size, but we were (dare I say it?) a little wined-out. Unimaginable, I know. S0 we still walked all around the city, and instead of pigging out on more wine, we opted to pig out on the treats at each bakery we had to visit as well as the hearty Danish food at lunch and of course our delicious dinner at the fancy hotel restaurant. In addition, we shopped and window shopped and took a horse-drawn trolley tour of the city. So adorable, so fun. After dinner Tom and I took advantage of our hotel's hot tub, relaxed, and watched a movie.

Oh and I forgot to mention the great hot breakfast and chic afternoon wine and cheese spreads our hotel provided... Mmm. I'm ready to go back! Pictures:

Tom eyeing a creepster troll. Those Danes and their trolls...

Dalahäst - The traditional horses from Dalarna, Sweden

Guess what else I got for my birthday? Gorgeous fall leaves!

Tom and Hans Christian Andersen

Twilight from our hotel balcony

Sunday: We felt satisfied with how well we had experienced the city of Solvang, except for one more thing we wanted to see: the Santa Ynez Mission. The whole history behind the missions in California is so interesting, and I really had no concept of it until moving here. I guess kids in California learn about the missions in 4th grade, right around when I was learning about the great prairies of Illinois.

Anyway, basically, (this is very much just my rough understanding, make sure you do your own fact-checking),while Europe was colonizing parts of America, part of Spain's way of colonizing was by sending missionaries from Mexico into the southeastern portion of what is now the United States, starting in 1769. They did what I guess I imagined missionaries did, spread information and Christianity and claimed places, and then (I think) the missionary system started to fizzle when Mexico won its independence from Spain in the early 1800's. In all there were about 20-some missions. When the system stopped, I think what happened to the actual mission buildings depended on who was there, where it was, and what it could be used for. I want to say that many of them now are being repaired, restored, counted as historical landmarks.

So we went to the mission for Mass. It was beautiful. The land around it was gorgeous. We toured the mission after Mass and gained knowledge! Pictures:

The mission's gardens

Finally it was nearing time to leave Santa Barbara County, but we had one more stop we had to make. Apparently Tom's family long ago (when Tom was in junior high) went to a semi-famous restaurant in the area called Pea Soup Andersen's, and you know how those once-visited-when-young places morph and turn in your memory? I think Tom really just wanted to see if it was what he remembered. And I like food, so I was like, "Yeah, sure, food!"

It was kind of funny, but the food was good, especially the pea soup. Pictures:

And so My Birthday Weekend drew to a close as we started our drive back to Los Angeles. A last birthday wish that Tom granted: a quick stop at the outlet mall on the way home. What a guy.

A great way to ring in 28.

Camping and Cheering for our Packers

(Post by Tracy)

Hey, dudes. November was a great month full of fantastic weekends for me and Tom. So great that I just couldn't interrupt its funness to update the blog with details of the funness. Therefore, allow me to travel back in time and attempt to fill you in 30 days late. Since it's the first weekend of December, I'll start with our first weekend in November.

A little back-story: I have been wanting and wanting to go camping. Unrelated, the Packers were going to be in town (well, San Diego) to play the Chargers. You see it, too, right? The ability to have a weekend where two wonderful worlds collide??

So we got Packers tickets and reserved a campsite at the San Diego Metro KOA. Mom and Dad shipped me their no-longer-being-used camping gear, and we did a trial overnight camping run in Tom's grandma's backyard in October. (What we learned: camping can be fun and romantic, and we really needed to buy better sleeping mats.)

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so with no further ado (and hopefully not too many more cliches), here is the story of our Camping-Packers weekend:

Started by packing up all the essentials.

Don't you think Tom's "Ok, now look excited!" look has really come a long way since we started documenting life on our blog?

Some day I'm going to do a post filled with just those pictures... Heh, heh, heh...

My personal motto: Be prepared. Be very, overly, unnecessarily prepared.

Who did you think the Boy Scouts learned it from, anyway?

Our sweet home for the night. Fellow Packers fans a campsite over lent us some lighter fluid, and we were set.

(And no, don't think I hadn't thought of that in my preparations!

It just apparently isn't readily sold at Target, the grocery store, or the sporting goods store.

Seriously, where does one find that stuff?)

After we cooked hot dogs, cracked open a few brewskies, and polished off a few s'mores, we had fun playing around with the settings on the camera.

I'm sparing you by only including the best few photos.

After all, I still remember what Jennifer told me after my trip to France with my first digital camera:

"Just because you can take a million pictures doesn't mean you should..."

Oooh...

Aaah...

A lot of firewood later, it was time for bed.

Morning! Breakfast!

And after packing up our tent, onward to the game!

The game was awesome. There were SO many Packers fans there. This dude was absolutely loving everything. He had a Packers tattoo on his calf, and I wish I could remember specifically what it was - something fabulous. For now let's just imagine it was a tat of Aaron Rodgers' face. Actually, it just might have been...

And even though I think a lot of these Packers fans were California-dwellers (like me and Tom), I could tell they were real Green Bay-ers in their hearts - because it was cold and rained for 3 complete quarters. A beautiful day for football - in Wisconsin.

Notice how this guy doesn't mind at all.

(Perhaps because of how much beer he had. Which would still prove my point.)

After our victory.

Ready to change into some drier clothes.

And head home, listening to the post-game show on the radio, during which the announcers (no joke) lauded all of the Green Bay fans for what gracious opponents they are... And playfully made fun of us for being Cheeseheads.