Crazy Ducks

The Ducks are taking on UCLA for homecoming and tonight was the first ever homecoming parade. I really love parades so I got Rocky all bundled up and we practically ran to campus in order to make it on time. It was all that I hoped for and more. Unfortunately, in my haste I forgot the camera.
The parade mostly consisted of floats of drunken frat boys and giggling sorority sisters. There were a few other campus organizations that also made an appearance. A few of them were handing out candy for the kids, and condoms for the college students.
The Oregon Duck was riding on a scooter. I was trying to find out what his name is and I found this video. The barber is the guy who stopped in the middle of a haircut so he could come out and look at Rocky.

The Duck that we saw today was much nicer.
Next were the cheerleaders and marching band which followed by a small school bus that carried kids from the school-sponsored day care. Then it was time for the real fun to begin.
One float had plastic Greek columns and about forty toga-wearing, chanting, stereotypical campus partiers. The little boy next to me started chanting along, (To-Ga...To-Ga) then turned to his mom and asked, "What's a toga?" She explained that it was a sheet that people sometimes wear to parties. He asked if his next birthday could be a toga party and she told him that he would have to wait until he is seventeen. I wondered about that a little bit because seventeen is a strange age to designate as toga appropriate. I guess that sweet sixteen is just a little too young to start. After all, there are plenty of years of toga excitement to last throughout college, why rush it. Eighteen is already marked by that legal adulthood issue, so I guess that the toga standard is a good way to add some excitement to becoming the big 1-7. I told Rocky that it was okay with me if she wanted to celebrate her first birthday with a togas because she is very mature for her age. All she did was drool, so I took it that she wasn't really that interested.
There was a group of guys that were dressed up like superheroes. They were all standing and trying to get the truck to bounce up and down. It was going pretty well until the truck accelerated a little too quickly and they all started falling. They tumbled into a big pile of bodies and capes and were a little too tipsy to get up right away. I don't think there were any serious injuries. When they did get up they offered the cute coeds across the street a free calendar featuring their pictures and seemed surprised when they declined.
There was a group wearing white shirts and boxers trying to immitate Risky Business, and a bunch of girls with robes and a sign that said, Hogwarts or Bust (you could see the toga party pointing and laughing at the wizards before the parade had even begun). One had a Top Gun theme and had completely covered the truck with foil to make it look like a jet.
I thought it was a pretty impressive showing, especially because there were many more people in the parade than there were watching the parade.
It was a pretty chilly night, but it was worth it.

Rocky and I aren't really ducks, but we are a little crazy.

Another Man's Treasure

There is a fine line between clutter and tradition. After living in our small apartment for three years, I started turning into a clutter Nazi. I was constantly re-evaluating whether we really needed all that stuff. While packing up for the move I almost threw out about half of the things we own. I just kept thinking that a cluttered home is representative of a cluttered life.

My mom seemed to be feeling the same way about two years ago when I was collecting items for a charity garage sale. I think that we all feel a little bit better about giving things away if we know it is for a good cause, and she gave us bags of things she was happy to get rid of. I also gave a big load of clothes that I never wore and some of the knick knacks I'd kept from when I was a teenager.

The day of the sale I was looking around to see if there were any good deals (why do we get rid of junk, just to end up buying more of it?) and stumbled across this picture.

I was almost bowled over with nostaligia and couldn't believe that my mom would give away such an important piece of my childhood. That picture, which Mom had cross-stitched herself had hung in our house while I was growing up. It was going for fifty cents. I had no choice but to buy it. It now hangs in our apartment and I feel a little less homesick every time I see it.

At that same sale Brandon had just finished paying for a blue polo shirt. It cost a quarter, which is kind of a stretch for him, but when he showed it to me, it looked familiar. The Alaska Railroad logo gave it away as one of the things I had just donated. When he wears it I'm always reminded of that happy summer that I spent many hours waiting to pick up cruise passengers at that small railroad in Denali.

Don't get me wrong. Some junk really is junk and we might as well get rid of it instead of sticking it in the dark corners of deep closets. But, within that junk there may be some pretty great memories.

I was lucky to be at my mom's when she was about to get rid of the Halloween house. This wasn't a piece of junk, but probably my favorite October decoration. I proudly put it up this morning and Rocky can't get enough of the colorful lights. Maybe I'll give it to her one day when she lives out on her own, and when she sees it she can feel the happiness that I do when I look at it.

Lucky Us

We are finally all moved in and it seems like the frantic chaos that has plagued my life for the past month has passed leaving solitude and tranquility in it's wake. The funny thing is that I'm not sure what is better. Of course I enjoy having a nice neat apartment, but I find myself a little lost when I have free time.
Thanks to Rocky, I really don't have that much.
Brandon is beginning to be more involved in his studies, and I am realizing that without my little girl I would be pretty lonely. Good thing she is always there to make me laugh.


She also helps her dad by being supportive of his studies.

We feel pretty lucky to have her.

Bottle Beater

Babysitting

I've been trying to do my best to make friends around here, and I guess I'm doing okay because I got my first gig babysitting. A girl in the ward who also lives at Spencer View went with her husband to a concert and I volunteered to watch her two boys. They were already in bed when I got here so it's an easy night. Rocky came with me, but when Brandon got back from playing basketball he took her.

So now here I am, in a quiet house. I can hear the appliances running and don't really feel comfortable moving around. It is such a strange feeling to be alone in someone else's house. It takes me back to my days as a young teenager when many of my weekends were spent agonizingly waiting for parents to return. I would look at the clock every 3 minutes and jump at every tiny sound. I'm not usually a wimpy girl, but my imagination would run wild and I'd get so scared. I'd listen for any indicator that could signal the approach of a car in the driveway and I swear that the parents were always about an hour later than they said they would be.

I used to get paid 2 dollars an hour. Even to a twelve-year-old $2 is not worth it. I could lose my whole Friday night and earn a grand total of 6 bucks. It was interesting though because the rate was never set. People would pay differently every time. I liked it that way because it added a degree of chance. It mostly depended on what kind of change people had on them. Sometimes I'd get a bonus and sometimes I'd be royally stiffed. It all seemed to average out in the end.

Now as a parent it is hard to even believe that people used to leave their kids with someone so inexperienced. I remember one time when I was about thirteen I was left with a baby. I have no idea how old he was but I remember that I was supposed to give him a bottle, burp him, and put him to bed. I was terrified. Actually, if I'm going to be honest, I'd have to say that until I had Rocky I would have felt just as nervous. Once I had some experience with a baby I realized that it is no big deal. But, at that time, I was positive that the kid would die if I didn't do it right. The baby cried for three hours straight. That night I took my 5 bucks and swore I'd never do it again. Of course, I had been kidding myself.

I'm sure that the families that I babysat for didn't have enough money to pay for anyone older than thirteen, but I don't know if I could do it. I mean, have you seen any Beehives lately? I almost feel like they need babysitters of their own.

It's a good thing that I'm much more mature now. Especially as I sit here, in this dark, creaky house, all alone. I'm sure they'll be home any second.

Work it Baby!

It seems like everyone around here is involved in excercise programs. Since Rocky has recently started getting so chubby we thought it would be best if we started her on one too. Besides, she's got to get moving if she wants to live up to her name.
She starts out with a morning jog. Since it is so cold and rainy she really bundles up.

Then she works on her arms a little.




Then, of course, she uses the excercise ball to work on her six-pack.
Then she finishes up in the bouncer by really working her legs. You can tell that she's worn out.

After all that excercise it is time for a cool down and some rest.


Then she wakes up and is ready for more.

Market of Choice

Eugene is a unique place in many ways. Everyone seems to know it as a hub for hippies but there are all kinds of folks around here. I've seen about ten times as many runners as I have tie-dye-wearing, peace-loving, shower-shunning, bra-burners. Don't get me wrong, I have been invited to sign petitions to legalize pot and learned several new ways to tame dreadlocks, but I think the city's stereotype seriously undermines the variety of people that have combined to give Eugene its special flavor.

What I've noticed most in my vast experience of living in Eugene (after all I've been here for more than a week) is that there is space for everyone.

There is a grocery store here called Market of Choice. It carries all the granola-y organics as well as the cheap chemically manufactured Cheese-Whiz and everything in between. I think this whole place is like that. There are about a million churches throughout the town, pubs all over, and drum circles. Most restaurants offer menu items with or without meat and they often have vegan choices too.

The people around here are just like everywhere else. They often stop to smile at Rocky and are very friendly. They even have enough love in this city to make room for a little family of Mormons. We're probably the weirdest ones of all.