Befriending the Beast

Now that I live at home, I have three new roommates: Dad, Mom, & Delilah the beast. Ok, ok, she’s not really a beast. In fact, if you’ve met her you know that she’s one of the sweetest, cuddliest dogs on the block. But if you’re my sister Nicki or me, you know she’s a B in more than the literal sense. 

Background story of Delilah: in my senior year of high school I managed to convince my parents that as they rapidly approached ENS (Empty Nest Syndrome) they needed another companion around in the form of a puppy. That’s when they got Delilah, the adorable yellow lab puppy. Once my sister and I returned from college for Christmas break, we realized that adorable little puppy had grown into Mom & Dad’s third child, or as we like to call her Cindy (as in the youngest sister of the Brady Bunch). Delilah filled the role of youngest sister well. She had Mom & Dad in the palm of her hand, she kissed up to them on the regular (quite literally with that lavish tongue of hers), she became jokingly--but maybe seriously--their favorite child. And worst of all, she didn’t listen to Nicki or me in slightest when it came to tricks and commands. 

Enter reverted version of Kate now living at home and spending the most time with beastly, beezy Delilah. Starting on Wednesday, I decided to make it my new goal to Alpha Dog that B. I began slow with belly rubs and tug-o-war around the house. Then I moved it outside to the park and tested my ability to control her with the power of treats. She responded well to that. And then today, as I got out my running shoes for my morning jog, she surprised me by laying her pretty white head right on top of them: 

I hadn’t originally planned on running with her, but then I thought what an opportune moment to test my progress of taming the beast. I grabbed Delilah’s leash, a poop bag (with high hopes of not needing it), the coveted bag of treats, and then put on a high-pitched dog-talking voice and asked her ever so politely, “D, wanna go on a run with me puppy?” To which she responded with a positive full circle spin and tail wag. 

Once we hit the road, I began to fear all that could go wrong with her running next to me. But to my surprise, she did great. Although, as I kept a steady jog, she kept a steady walk. What an insult to my speed. Every now and again she would stop to pee--alright, that’s allowed--and from time to time she’d dart in front of me to eat something tasty in the middle of the sidewalk. One time there was a fallen plumb in front of us and I nearly ate it on her as she attempted to eat it off the ground. We recovered nicely. I even looked at her at the end and asked, “Ok Delilah, are you ready to sprint to the finish?” (yes, I’m that crazy lady who talks to her dog in the middle of the sidewalk). I think Delilah thought I asked if she wanted some more treats, because she glanced at the bag in my hand and then picked up her paws to keep in-step with my sprint. I gave her three treats at the end of it all, because, moral of this long story, it turns out all it takes to tame the beast is a multitude of Milkbones. 

Enjoying the 2nd to Last

As my time in Oregon came to a close, I developed a theory I like to call Enjoying the 2nd to Last. While plans for goodbyes were made, I realized it was going to be painfully difficult to close the Oregon chapter of my life. Somewhere in there I also realized I should try to appreciate my last moments, but since the very last moments would be full of tears and farewells I decided I should pay close attention to the moments before the last moments. So I began to enjoy the 2nd to last moments. My 2nd to last Sunday at Dox (my church) I sang as loud as my lungs would allow. My 2nd to last week of work I read stories with greater enthusiasm than ever before (and I read the books 18 million times rather than cutting the kids off after 17 million read-throughs). My 2nd to last tribe (like church small group) I participated as if I would never speak again. Every 2nd to last hang out session with Oregon friends I made sure to cherish a little more. All of the 2nd to last experiences I knew would be the last normal experiences, so I took an extra mental note of each one. I recommend this strategy to anyone who is about to move on from one thing to the next because final goodbyes take on a whole new form, and sometimes it’s good just to sit back and appreciate normalcy. 

Ok, enough sappiness. I’m also living with my parents now, so you can look forward to a future blogpost about life with the new roommates. This new adventure is already off to a hilarious start. 

Silver Falls/Oregon Bucket List

This past Friday I managed to cross one of the more extreme items off my OBL. I hiked the Canyon Trail at Silver Falls State Park...at least I think so. Before I dive into the rest of the hiking story, there are some things you need to know about my previous hiking experience as well as why this was an item on my list. 

Back story #1: I am not an avid hiker. I have hiked before, I will probably hike again, but it is by no means a hobby. I spent my childhood summers camping with my family and absolutely loving the outdoors, but that did not include a love of hiking. From time to time my fam would convince me to go on a hike, but I would spend so much time dragging my feet, complaining, or pouting silently several feet behind the crowd that eventually they developed a rotation for which two would go out hiking and which one would stay back with me at the campsite. (Sorry family). 

Back story #2: I’ve been to Silver falls on several occasions, and at least three times I’ve hiked the Maple Leaf Trail. That trail is about two miles long and gives you a view of two waterfalls. Two of those three times I intended to hike the Trail of Ten Falls/Canyon Trail, but fell short and took the Maple Leaf Trail cut off, hence my desire to not only return to Silver Falls but to complete the larger loop while I’m there. 

So Friday was the day. I didn’t have to work and the weather was ideal, so I trucked it the 45 minutes out to Silver Falls, paid my $5 to enter the park, and geared up for an adventure. I had read online beforehand that it was an 8.7 mile hike of moderate/difficult ranking and would take about four hours. With that in mind, I packed a backpack full of goodies: a whole sandwich, trail mix (chocolate lover’s edition), dried apricots, and my largest bottle of water. I loaded my ipod up with podcasts, new music, and made sure it was fully charged. I lathered myself with sunscreen and got ready to hike. Then I got lost on my way to the bathrooms. Good start, Kate. After finding those, I located the start to the trail and was reassured by the following sign that I was in the right place. 

Once I got going, I felt great. Having seen it three times prior, I zoomed past the first fall (pausing to take a picture of the backside of water, of course), marched behind the second one, and then came to the fork in the dirt path where you can bail at the Maple Leaf Trail or continue onward to the Trail of Ten Falls. I felt so good I had no doubt I wanted to keep going. I did, however, doubt which path led to which trail. This seemed to be a recurring problem for me. Turns out I’m awful with nature maps and trail signs. Arrows are not clear to me. I really don’t think this was a Silver Falls problem, in fact I’m fairly certain it was just a Kate-trying-to-be-a-hiker problem. 

After I sorted that out, I powered through, passing groups left and right. I went in with the idea that this was going to take me all day, so I was trying to keep a steady pace. I’ve been told I’m a fast walker, but I wasn’t sure if that would translate to a fast hiker. Turns out it did. I reached the North Falls (which were breathtaking, by the way. I actually gasped when I saw them and declared that view to be worth the whole hike) an hour and a half in. I pulled out my map and figured myself to be at the halfway point, but as I mentioned I’m not so skilled in reading nature maps. Fifteen minutes later I was in the home stretch of the hike. It took me two maps, about seven takes, and one wrong turn/double back to figure that out. At this point I had only allowed myself to eat a handful of trail mix and drink about a gulp of water. I was rationing like it was Everest. I didn’t even get through a full podcast on my ipod. I shrugged my shoulders and practically ran to the finish. I mostly just wanted to know if I was on the right track. And sure enough I ended up right back at the bathrooms I couldn’t find at the start of my day.  I’m still not entirely sure which trail I hiked, and after looking back through my photos I think I only found 6 of the 10 falls. Regardless, I hiked more than the Maple Leaf Trail and I actually enjoyed a hike, which counts as a success in my book. 

Getting Back on the Horse..er, Board

Believe it or not it has been an entire year since I fell off my longboard, banged up by body to the point of immobility, and started a blog. To commemorate such an event, I got back on my board. 

I hadn’t even stepped on my longboard since the fall--partially out of fear, partially out of an elongated season of bad weather--but this last Wednesday I decided I was done making excuses and I was ready to get back to what used to be one of my favorite hobbies. 

I got home after work to an empty house and booked it upstairs to put on a longboarding outfit. Despite the 80+ degree weather, I wore full-length jeans, layered two shirts, and slipped on my trusty green Vans. I wasn’t going to take any chances exposing my skin to the pavement this time around. I opened up the garage, dusted off my board, placed one foot on it and was immediately filled with memories of my last ride--the all too steep hill, the rickety board, my bare knees smacking the pavement, blood filling my wounds, laying down in a grassy field until my head stopped spinning, and the weeks of being couch-ridden--did I really want to do this again? Before my memories got the best of me, I took off riding. Just like riding a bike, it all came back to me habitually. Things that took me ages to learn came back instantly. My feet found their grooves instinctually. I pushed with just the right amount of force. I turned corners with absolute ease. I even went down the itsy-bitsiest hill I could find. I almost put my foot down to slow myself, but then I realized I couldn’t really be going much slower without coming to a complete stop. I didn’t carve or try anything fancy, but I had to save something for the next ride, and yes, I anticipate many more rides in my future. After I got going I couldn’t remember what had kept me from doing this all along. Finally, I got my hobby back. 

It’s also odd to me that I’ve been writing this blog for a year. I initially started it as a way to cope with being unemployed and stuck on the couch with battered knees. Now I use it as a way to find a story out of the everyday. It’s been one of the most unexpected years of my life and I can’t wait to see what the next one holds for me...and hopefully it hold no more long boarding injuries.