Posts Tagged ‘family’

Before Christmas, I wasn’t too bummed about spending it away from home for the third year in a row. I survived (and enjoyed) previous Christmases spent skiing in New Mexico and feasting with other journalist orphans in Casper. The actual holiday stretched weeks, brown boxes from friends and relatives arriving weeks before the holiday and into January. I made it home for Thanksgiving both years with some good luck and a one-way ride as far as Colorado from my sister.

Thanksgiving at home didn’t happen this year. Plane tickets were expensive, my sister’s schedule didn’t align with mine and Josh’s dad, stepmom and stepsisters decided to drive to Wyoming for the weekend. I hosted my first Thanksgiving and proved once again I am my mother’s daughter.

Perfect turkey. (Nov. 24)

We served way too many appetizers, including $40 worth of cheese, and enjoyed leftovers for a whole week afterward. We drank wine and played games and watched movies. We were too full for dessert (pumpkin-apple and French silk pies, a la mode) but ate it anyway.

A few weeks before Christmas, I found out family from Virginia that I hadn’t seen in years were driving home. I scrambled to find a plane ticket: $650-800 to fly out of Casper. Flights from Denver were a little cheaper, but I couldn’t afford booking a $350 ticket in the case I-25 closed and I never made my flight. And I didn’t have $800 for a guaranteed flight.

So Christmas at home didn’t happen, again. We ended up driving to New Mexico for a long weekend with Josh’s family. Of course, Nola came with and she behaved so well during the 10ish hour car ride.

Outtake from the Christmas card photo shoot. (Dec. 12)

And when I called my mom’s house where everyone was gathering on Christmas day, no one answered the phone. I called three cell phones before my brother answered, roaring laughter in the background.

They were doing the white elephant gifts, he explained. Apparently, in the Christmases I missed, my family started a new tradition. At that moment, I made a vow to go home next year, no matter what, even if it is only for two days.

Although I’ve done a good job of finding family around the holidays to celebrate with, nothing beats going home.

Nola loves digging in blankets. (Oct. 31)

Two weeks ago, this little one entered my life. It’s hard to imagine life without her.

We named her Nola after New Orleans, something we always agree on. The name seems to suit her well. She’s sweet, loyal and, as demonstrated by more than a few spills, extremely resilient.

She’s part maltese, part poodle — 100 percent love.

We have a lot in common. We both love peanut butter, Motown and falling asleep on the couch to the evening news.

Nola. (Nov. 2, by Joshua A. Bickel)

We searched Wyoming shelters for small dogs all summer. We fell in love with a dachshund, but someone else adopted her before we could. We found dogs in Colorado shelters, but they didn’t adopt out of state.

My mom’s trusted breeder in Illinois happened to have four puppies available when I visited home in September. When I held Nola, she got scared by a sound from another puppy and burrowed her head into my chest with a wimper. I was sold.

My mom drove her as far as South Dakota, and I drove more than 600 miles each way to pick her up. On the ride back, I let her sit in the passenger seat. She climbed into my lap and stayed there until I had to get gas in Rapid City. She felt safe with me. And I didn’t feel so alone driving in the dark.

She’s taught me a few things in the short time she’s been here.

- Patience is something I work on every day. The dog has taken it to new levels. Nola turns into super-hyper puppy for about an hour every morning, and I feel like I’m at mile No. 10 of a half marathon with Josh.

- Confidence is built on a series of experiences. We’re working on her confidence to squat and do her business outside despite barking pitbulls, strong winds and strangers passing by on the sidewalk.

- Sometimes, we need a little help — even when we know we’ll succeed. Nola can get off the couch, but often she will sit on the end and whine for someone to pick her up and put her on the floor.

Long time, no post. I blame it on busy days at work — school starting and lots of state issues — and having way too many fun summer things to do when I’m not working.

I was a little homesick after my brother and dad visited. So the next weekend, my mom drove from Illinois to Wyoming. She brought her two little dogs.

It was really, really hard to let this dog leave me. (Aug. 20, 2011)

While Mom was here, we went for a 4.5 mile hike along the Bridle Trail at the base of the mountain. And, for the first time in a month, I didn’t hurt afterward.

Rewind: I hurt what I thought was my knee after running the Parade Day 5K way, way too fast and failing to stretch properly afterward. How fast? Try an 8:15 first mile — my PR 5K pace was about 8:40. I ran the first mile alongside a group of Marines, which should have been my first warning sign. Soreness went away a few days later and I attempted to run. I gimped through 5 miles and another 7 that weekend. The point of injury moved from my knee to the top of my quad. The next week, I (stupidly) ran 12 in New York.

I hobbled through two runs a week for about a month. When I saw other runners — especially younger, perkier, faster runners — I got insanely jealous and a little sad. I just wanted to run.

Harder than running through the pain was realizing I wouldn’t be able to run the full marathon in Denver next month. I signed up in May, intending to complete my first marathon close to home with friends and family cheering me on. I told myself I could always drop down to the half in case I didn’t get the training in. I didn’t get depressed, but I was pretty down for a few weeks.

After the hike with Mom, I dialed back, focused on strengthening exercises for my IT band. The injury made sense in hindsight — I stopped lower body weight training a few weeks before the injury, stressed all my muscles too hard in the 5K and didn’t cool down properly. I’ve hiked every week since and gradually added shorter runs in.

This week’s runs have given me hope that I can finish the half. My legs felt like new on Thursday and this morning I only felt a little pain after 4 of 6 miles.

So I’m back in the saddle with a modified plan that includes lots of stretching, foam rolling and trail running.

In the two years I’ve lived next to the North Platte River, I have not gone fishing.

I’ve floated the river (three times). I’ve run past it at least twice a week. I’ve eaten breakfast, lunch and dinner on its banks. I camped next to it and watched friends fish at Miracle Mile.

But I hadn’t fished until Friday.

My dad and brother visited for the weekend and my dad booked a guided fly fishing trip in Alcova, about 20 miles southwest of Casper, for us. We fished from a boat, which was nice because we had lots of room to stow stuff and could sit down and lean back once we found a good seam. The best part: the guide would row us upriver to ride the seam over and over.

My brother had fly fished before, so I think he was disappointed with the seven rainbow trout he caught.

I caught 14.

One of the bigger ones I caught. (Aug. 12)

Not all were big, but wow, they were beautiful.

My sister graduated college a few weeks ago. I drove to Fort Collins to watch her (and 800 other liberal arts grads) walk across the stage and spend time with my parents and grandparents who flew in for the week.

Another reason to drive to Colorado: My dad found a new car in Wisconsin for me to buy. The price and timing were right, so he drove the 2010 Corolla out and drove my 2001 Corolla back to sell in the Midwest.

Someone in my immediate family has graduated every other year since 2003. We’ve sat through a lot of graduations and graduation speeches.

The graduate, smiling before yet another graduation speech.

The CSU president spoke at the liberal arts ceremony. He warned students not to listen to talking heads, to seek facts and make up their own minds. His concise advice: “Be thoughtful, be reflective and avoid false choices.”

Most of the speeches are fuzzy to me — I spent most of my graduations chatting with friends. (At my college commencement ceremony, we cracked open beers someone hid under their gown.)

I did listen to chunks of my master’s degree ceremony, enough to remember this part from journalist Dorothy Gaiter:
“There are no unimportant assignments just as there are no unimportant people. And while you are out there doing good journalism, don’t forget to get a life. No editor will ever care for you the way your loved ones do. Don’t ever forget that. And if you have a hobby, another passion besides journalism, make time for it. You never know where it will lead.”

The passage is on an index card in my desk. I’ve pulled it out on slow days or during weeks when I feel married to my work, a to make the most of unattractive assignments and make a life outside the newsroom.