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.

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.

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.

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.

I was there for the Education Writers Association conference and stayed a few days to hang out with my family and enjoy the city.

On Thursday morning, my first in the city, I woke up and ran a sweaty three miles along the neutral ground (median) to Audubon Park. I’ve run a handful of times since February, but this was the first run that felt good, natural. It had nothing to do with the heat and humidity — I could have done without that.

I snacked on fruit and read the newspaper in the kitchen while chatting with my aunt. The scene could have happened two years ago. Again, natural.

Other now-foreign experiences that felt “natural:” walking to get coffee at Rue de La Course, riding shotgun through narrow streets, iced pecan praline coffee from PJ’s, heading straight to the right aisle in my old grocery store, listening to Kermit Ruffins and eating gumbo in the sun, dining al fresco on Magazine with an old friend.

Sunshine, family, music, river breeze, happiness. (April 9, 2011)

When recapping my short trip to NOLA, a friend pointed out the obvious: Going to New Orleans is like going home.

I don’t have to do touristy things or see the sights — I’m happiest just stretching on my aunt and uncle’s porch, breathing in the jasmine and morning humidity. Or drinking Abita and eating cheese fries (2 nights in a row) at my favorite hangout. Or laughing with my cousins in my aunt’s kitchen.

I came home with strong coffee, sunburn and a full heart. I can always go home. And when I can’t, I can brew some strong coffee and think of it.

I did ride the lift with my sister several times last weekend on a last-minute trip to Keystone. I met Sam in Fort Collins, we picked up our parents from the airport and drove west to the mountains. I can’t remember the last time more than three of us have skiied together — 10 years?

The plan: Ski as much as possible before Sunday night. We did alright. Night skiing on Friday, skiing from open to 2 on Saturday and from open to noon on Sunday.

I brought my board for Friday night. And I did good! Driving up to Hogadon on weekend mornings has paid off. But runs in Colorado are at least three times as long as the runs in Casper. I started to fall more toward the end as I got more and more tired.

Sam and me at Keystone, Jan. 28, 2011

I’m glad I made the 5-hour trip. I didn’t get to see family during Christmas and don’t know when I’ll see them again.

Things I’ve been thankful for recently:

• The woman above me chooses to leave on her heat  — which heats 2/3 of my apartment — while we are both gone.
• Last week’s winter storm disintegrating before reaching Casper, so I could drive to Colorado and fly home for Thanksgiving.
• Parents who drive to the airport late at night (midnight) and early in the morning (3 a.m.).
• A strong, healthy  body to run 3 miles through the woods and mud.
• Laughter, especially about things that don’t matter.
• Enough weekend to share with family, friends and  several hometown restaurants.
• Friends who offer to babysit me while I test Four Loko.
• My sister drove from Illinois to Colorado so she could be my Trader Joes mule and haul back almond butter and wine I couldn’t take on the plane.
• A cozy bed in Fort Collins to nap for a few hours before heading back to Wyoming.
• A Saturday shift so I didn’t have to go to work on Monday with only a couple hours of sleep.
• Two business days this week to get my bills/life in order.

Cleaning the carcass with my uncle in my mom’s kitchen, home of many thankful moments.

Tomorrow it’s back to work — another thing for which I’m constantly grateful.

Finishing my first half marathon (and raising a ton of money for cancer) were two tangible goals and reaching them took hard work. I looked forward to the race for months and after I flew back to Wyoming, I didn’t have as much to look forward to.

I got over it, fast. I put running on the back burner, averaging 12 miles/week. I traveled. I entertained. I hiked. I enjoyed Wyoming while it was warm.

Then I started to make fall plans — plans for after Oct. 1 when my vacation days reset. I had planned to go to Rochester for my college homecoming weekend. But as the date approached, logistics of flying to western New York in the middle of October set in. I had to fly out of Casper because if it snowed, I wouldn’t be able to make it to Denver — doubling the cost of the plane ticket and limited the times I could fly in and out.

Then my mom called — she and my dad were flying to Colorado that weekend for my sister’s family/alumni weekend. I haven’t seen them in months and the odds don’t look good for going home for the holidays (again). So I decided to save vacation days and money by weekending in Denver instead.

The first Rock n Roll Denver marathon happened to be the same weekend. I proposed the idea of a family half marathon and my mom and sister said yes. Eventually, my dad signed up too.

I trained much like the first half, running small distances (3-5 miles) twice a week with a longer run on the weekends.
My mom followed a walking plan but got a serious cold that lasted the whole week leading up to the race. My sister vowed to run, but that fell through when she got busy and later got sick. And my dad signed up too late to commit to anything serious.

Our expectations were pretty low. My mom thought she’d probably be hauled off the course before she finished.

pre-race smiles in the port-o-potty line.

But we all made it — on our own time, without injury and feeling accomplished. I shaved 20 minutes off my time in Seattle. Dad was able to run a little bit, despite bad knees. Much to her surprise, my sister finished in under 3 hours.

After I finished, I ran back to the hotel to shower and change and made it back in time to see my mom cross the finish line. I was so proud of her and my dad and sister for doing something they never thought they would do.

My brother got out of running this one because of work, but I have a feeling another family race is in the future.

Lucky for us, a 10K was planned for Sept. 25 in Casper and Sept. 26 in Colorado. We had options. She said she wanted to come to Casper (really?!). I doubted she’d visit because she hasn’t since I moved here. I’ve been to Fort Collins more times than I can count.

Weeks passed and I didn’t think it would happen.

And then it did.

Sam drove to Casper and ran her first race and the farthest distance in her life. I smashed my PR while running a pace that didn’t wreck my knees or any other part of my body. I finished my first 10K in 1:05 in 2009 and I finished Saturday’s race in 0:55 (unofficial watch time) — that’s an 8:52 minute mile! Pretty fast for not pushing myself too hard.

We both had fun — and didn’t kill each other!

Sisters at the finish line.

The Support the Girls 10K was a perfect first race for her and pace race for me. The course included pieces I run all the time, with lots of curves and a few small hills. The race was small and the organizers did a fantastic job of making the day more about having fun than winning a race. The race raised more than $6,000 for breast cancer programs in Natrona County.

Finish line.