tricks or treats?

tricks, for sure!
lucas and reno were up to some good 'ol fashioned ding-dong-ditchin' mischief to celebrate today.

happy halloween! we hope it's super spoooooooky!
love, lin


I wandered down the aisles grabbing last minute supplies for our trip to Squamish. I filled a small basket with beer and cheese and bread. As I grabbed the bags, stuffed the change and the reciept in my pocket from my shopping, my phone rang. Max called me from the car. “Hey can you pick me up some cheesey popcorn.”
We arrived in Canada around two am Monday morning after a half hour detour driving lost along random streets in Surrey. The next morning we met Thomasina and Cedar at the Adventure Center and headed to the boulders. It’s been awhile since I climbed in Squamish. There was a lot of trash, bits of tape, band-aids, and empty chalk socks laying around the base of the Black Dyke. The noise from the highway construction blasted into the forest. The rock felt smoother and more polished than I remembered and a lot of the forest felt damp in the morning. By late afternoon, the dankness disappated and the bouldering got good, really good. I flailed while Max sent Baba Hari Dass, and Sit Down to Holm Boy. Thomasina wanted to save skin for the next day.
That night we stayed at the Smoke Bluffs with Thomo, Cedar, Tim Doyle, Israel, Peter Michaux, Ben Harden, and Brent Michelson. Tim, Thomo, Max and I hung out and slandered then got a slow start the next morning to go bouldering. Max and I went over to Golden Boy, which he fired after a few tries of falling at the end. I sent the Sit Down to Holm Boy. That was really rad. I’ve tried that problem a lot over the past four years and it was nice to finish it. Max and I headed out to the Apron where Max fired off Gull Skull. I climbed Cutting Edge, a problem I’d never done. Then we met up with Thomo and climbed on Tatonka. Max and Thomo both fired it. Max and I went to the grocery store and while Tim Doyle watched Cedar, Thomasina fired off the first female ascent of The Egg. Yeah for Thomo!
The next day Max and I drove back. We got stopped at the border and my Saturn was searched. The border patrol confiscated our avacado and hassled us but eventually let us go.
Our original intent for heading up there was to do an interview of Thomasina. She’s been crushing lately. She fired off a bunch of hard problems in Bishop earlier this year then made some rad ticks in Leavenworth. I needed a good photo of Thomasina for the interview but it never worked out. Oh well. I was really happy to see my Canadian friends and get to hang with Thomasina’s and Cedar. They are two cool Pidgeons. I wish I had spent more time in Squamish this summer. I may move back to the Northwest next summer.
I’m leaving Leavenworth on Sunday. Hopefully the weather will stay clear. The forecast calls for rain. I’d like to send my boulder project before I leave. The last time I got on it I fell with my fingers diddling the finish jug. But I need some serious fitness pretty quick if I want to make my November climbing trip pan out. I’m thinking a lot about Zion these days. I’d really like to finish that thing.

Tim's Windshield

Last week, Tim Doyle drove along the highway in his 1985 Toyota minivan, traveling at roughly 60 kilometers per hour. As he neared town, a Squamish District school bus passed him going 40 kilometers per hour. When the two vehicles passed each other, a Canadian threw a banana out the window. The fruit smashed into Tim's front windshield making a softball crack in the glass and creating a long split down the windshield. Tim turned the vehicle around and chased the school bus. When the driver pulled over to pick up another student, Tim ran up to the yellow beast, slapping on the side of it until the driver let him in.
"Who the fuck threw a mother fucking banana at my window?! You could have killed me! What the fuck!" Tim screamed. The bus driver offered no help nor did the dozen ten and twelve year old students on the bus.
Later, Israel suggested that Tim have the banana finger printed. I recommended that he demand blood, urine, and semen, analysis from all passengers. Regardless, the windshield will cost two hundred dollars, which Tim was hoping to spend on gas to Yosemite. Hopefully, Tim will be able to get compensation from the school district or at least shake some milk money out of the punks who broke his window.

Boceto para una pagina de "Paladines del Bien"


dear nat:
i need a new big 'ol bottle of this. i'll never forget the first time i smelled it. you, me, winco grocery buying dr. pepper and ribs. you confessed your britney-ness and i've never smelled the same since.
love, lin

p.s. i still do believe that all would be right in the world if britney and j.t. would just get back together already. brad and jen?? you, too. thanks.

CI candidacy approval!

It's hard to believe that Lucas is 10 months old today! What an active, happy boy he is too! He army crawls so efficiently that he's not particularly interested in learning to crawl with his belly off the ground... oh well! He's pulling himself up, climbing over things and follows us around the house. He's very social and still vocal, even when he's not wearing his hearing aids. He still continues to sign "milk", and we think "eat" also. He also waves and babbles in sign! That's really fun to see!

It's been an eventful month for Lucas! On October 7th, we had 6 appointments with Lucas at CHOP, including his team evaluation for the CI. We met with a social worker, a SLP, an educational consultant and one of the CI audiologists. Lucas had more booth testing, and we finally have an audiogram! His unaided pure tone average is 120+ dB bilaterally. Response to speech information was obtained at 105 dB in each ear. Repeatable responses were noted at 110 dB at 250 Hz for each ear also. The CI audiologist also noted that although the responses were consistent, they may have been due to vibrotactile stimulation and not necessarily auditory stimulation. Basically, Lucas is quite profoundly deaf, and is getting NO benefit from his hearing aids because of the level of profoundness.

A week after those appointments we got a phone call informing us that Lucas is indeed a candidate for CI surgery from an audiological standpoint. We also had a phone call from Dr. K at the beginning of October with the results of Lucas' most recent MRI. His inner ear structures are all intact, meaning the cochleas are not malformed and the auditory nerves are present. That's great news for CI surgery! He did inform us, however, that Lucas has enlarged vestibular aqueducts (EVA) in both ears. Normally, the concern with EVA is progressive hearing loss, but Lucas' loss is so profound that it doesn't matter. I still have a lot to learn about EVA, but I don't think that it has any other implications, nor is it treatable, so it's just kind of there, and is simply helping us piece the puzzle together as to why Lucas is deaf. Dr. K also told us that from his standpoint, Lucas is also a CI candidate.

So, we have approval from audiology, ENT and insurance, so all we need is a surgery date. Yippee!!! Well, there are a few more steps, but the candidacy process is over, and this dream will soon be a reality! It still doesn't seem real that we're at this point already.

Last Friday Lucas had ear tubes put it at CHOP. We left the house at 4:45 AM to arrive at 6:15. It was a simple procedure, although he still had to be under general anesthesia. We were home by 2 PM on Friday and then had the weekend to be with Lucas following surgery. Now when Lucas has his CI surgery, they won't have to postpone it at all because of fluid on the ears. I'm also interested to see if he tests any higher in the booth because of the tubes. We'll see at Thanksgiving.

Because of his level of hearing loss and lack of benefit from hearing aids, the CI decision for us is a no brainer. The earliest he can be implanted is Christmas. We plan to implant in January and activate in February. Pending official approval next week, I will be taking a leave of absence from my teaching job for the rest of the school year following activation, and not returning until next September. I submitted my request on Tuesday. Lucas' therapy sessions will increase to once a week each (SLP and TOD), and we will be heading down to CHOP regularly for follow-up appointments. His needs will best be met with me at home, and that's where I really want to be. We know that a CI is not a cure for hearing loss, and that Lucas will not magically hear upon activation. It will take time, lots of work and even more comprehensible input to help him make sense of the noise that he will be hearing. And I'm so excited about it.

For now, we continue to sign with him as much as possible and to the best of our ability. It will not be as much of a priority after activation, but we still have 3 months until surgery, and 4 months until activation. We also want him to appreciate deaf culture and be able to be an integral part of it if he so chooses. Plus, he needs another language under his belt in addition to learning German and Spanish from Mommy and Daddy very, very soon (wink, wink).

create. inspire. uplift. enjoy.

i'm on the enrichment committee for our ward's relief society {a wonderful gathering of women}. our committee is chock-full of talented ladies that help put together monthly activities that will aid in strengthening our homes, families and our own personal divine nature. it's been a great place for me to creatively express myself and use my talents to serve the women of our ward. we've been planning a super saturday event. a day to create, inspire, uplift and enjoy.
i had stashed some images in my brain from sarah's september 1st post and was able to whip up this little beauty from the inspiration that the textures and collage-y-ness of her creations gave me. i'm so in love with how it turned out.
next on the agenda is planning the centerpieces for that afternoon's luncheon. i've got these on my mind:
i love that they will bring in a bit of the fall season and also love that i can tweak things a bit to help pull it together with our crafting theme. i've spoken on here before about the missing piece in the synapse of my silly brains. the part that would allow me to turn an idea in my head into the real thing. so we'll see if what i've churned up really comes together. i need to round up some more pretty cake plates if anyone is willing to let us borrow their pretties for the afternoon. i'd love to come up with white or colored ones. and if you've got any other ideas for me - like where the best place to find a box of good lookin' apples is or some nice sturdy sticks?? or even your best caramel dipping recipe and tips??
i most look forward to getting together that morning with such an amazing group of women. i've been trying really hard to "suit up and show up" to these kind of things since we moved back to this town and i've been a bit surprised by the many blessings that i've gained from so many of the women in our ward. such amazing and strong women. such perspective. i love to just sit back and watch and listen and soak them all in. truly an inspired organization. don't you think?
love, lin

Si las cubanas pudieran matar

Es el titulo tentativo de una idea que tengo para una historieta.
En pocas palabras seria una historieta de romance estilo las tapas de novelas en la que
una mujer esta abrazada a una especie de Conan-Tarzan pero agregandole mucha acción
estilo Commando y mucho erotismo soft-core tipo pelicula de I-Sat de las 3 de la mañana. Después lo cuento mejor cuando suba mas dibujos!

Puesta al día, subí también el bosquejo que hice de la pagina completa. Como verán la pija se veia mas en el boceto. No muy soft core así que la volví una ominosa sombra negra.

election '08

after an evening spent with dear friends and my sweet family i'm feeling aware, imformed and so empowered. i love it.
mark your calendars for november 4th because an election party will be had over here and you're all invited.
love, lindsay


A man with a rifle slung around his shoulder dragged a large carcass behind him as I climbed in Forestland. The deer's tongue hung out the side of its mouth swinging in circles as the corpse bumped along the small path between the boulders. The hunter stopped, propped his foot up on a knee high boulder, and wiped the sweat off his brow. I stared.
"Nice buck you got there," said one pebble wrestler.
"Yup," the hunter grabbed the deer's antlers and swung its head towards us. "This sum-ma-bitch is a tweleve pointer."
The deer's tongue flopped to the other side of its mouth.
"Pretty proud. P-retty proud. I sawed her in half so I could get her to the car. My boy's wrasslin the other half down. Anyway, got to keep humpin' if I want to mount her today. See you folks later." The hunter grabbed the straps around the deers neck and continued the plod to his car.
Five minutes later, a tweleve year old boy came huffing down the trail, towing the deer's ass and hind quarters. He stopped to breathe for a second, then continued after his pa.

My dad hung a deer from the crab apple tree outside of my grandma's house. My brothers and I watched the blood drain for three days. Nick poked it with a stick and the enormous carcass swung. My dad yelled at us to stop messing around. That winter we ate venison stew, venison steaks, venison stir-fry, venison sandwiches, venison and eggs. We all got pretty sick of venison. Whenever we thought we had stuffed the last piece down, my mother would pull a little more out of the freezer. The meat was cheaper than anything we could get at the grocery store.

There is not much sport in hunting. There's a man with a high powered rifle, complete with techy scope, and there's a deer or elk or bear or some endangered species with little to no knowledge of rednecks wanting to kill it and mount its head on the wall. I guess I do not like hunting much. Seeing the hunter and his son drag the deer by the boulders angered me. Why did they have to kill it? At the same time, I remembered how much venison we ate that winter. We ate the shit out of my father's buck...damn near literally.


keepin' it on {pay-it-forward challenge}

last week a pretty little envelope was tucked way in the back of my silver mailbox. inside was this beautiful print from mrs. french of bliss blog fame. she just happens to have opened her first etsy shop - and it's dripping in beautiful photos.

i'd been dreaming of the tiny moon print. perfect for above the new babe's sweet crib. and there it was. in my box. a surprise.


mrs. french has the most beautiful little spot of cyber-space. she's full to the brim with wonderful talents that i don't even know where to begin. i love flipping through her space and catching a glimpse of her mama-hood, her loves, and her lady-ness. her "i heart mondays" are filled with special treasures. simple things that she's taken the time and noticed their true beauty. she finds the good ones. i love reading stories of adventures spent out with the boys she so loves and scanning through the gorgeous photos of their travels. not to mention how much my heart smiles huge when i see a little note from her in my comment log. she's a gem. a true gem.


awhile back i left a comment on her blog to enter the pay-it-forward challenge. i'm a huge fan of real-mail-karma. real mail that sends your heart a flutter when an unexpected surprise from someone who was thinking of you arrives. she picked me and thus the tiny moon print made it's arrival. now it's my turn and i can't wait to pass this one on.

::pay it forward exchange::
i agree to: send something fun, cute and nice to 3 blog owners who post a comment on this entry. in turn, those three will post this information and pick 3 people they want to send something to and so on. if you are interested in participating, leave a comment! when i pick the three comments i will email a request for your shipping address and i will send out something that i hope will make your heart flutter, too.

if chosen you agree to: promise that you will then post about this on your blog, link to me, and then send something to three people who comment on your blog so that this continues.

Leaving Leavenworth

I leave Leavenworth in three weeks. It will be nice to quit my crappy job but I am not happy to leave my friends. Hanging in the Peshastin house for the summer has been really fun. And I started climbing again. The bouldering here is really good. I am bummed to leave that.

Last week, Thomasina, Cedar, and Brent came down from Squamish to climb for a few days. They stayed in Peshastin and crushed. Brent hiked a bunch of hard classics and Thomasina flashed Atomic Energy, a V9! Very proud. Having Cedar around was fun. She's an awesome little girl. I really liked having Thomasina around too. And it was cool hanging with Brent too.

Anyway, just counting down the days, thinking about heading to Squamish for a couple days, provided it doesn't rain, and hoping to be in shape for a late November trip to Zion.

Oh and my labtop shit the bed. Kate Rutherford gave it to me a little while ago. It was super generous of her. It was old though and the furious pounding on the keyboard fried the rig. If anyone wants to sponsor or sell me an old labtop, let me know. I'm in the market.

*a lovely lindsay giveaway*

wanna win a little something from my shop?
visit and leave a comment here.

love, lin

don't you think it's time?

time for changing views
time for growing strong
time for quelling fear
time for meaning what you say
time for reaching out
time for trusting more
time for showing grace

october seventh is the last day to register by mail in washington state. it's time for things to change.
love, lin

Bus Boy Hell

My mother popped me out on December 6, 1981. That makes me twenty-six years old. In between then and today, I managed to graduate from both high school and college, finishing the latter with a degree in Economics and Business Management from the University of California at Santa Cruz. In high school I maintained a 4.0 grade point average at Vermont Academy, graduating cum laude with distinctions in history, mathematics, and English. I played defensive line on the varsity football team, was capitan of the cross country ski team, acted in a few school theatre productions, and was president of the Saturday Morning Swim Club, a polar bear swim team. I entered college a merit scholarship winner but I smoked a lot of hippie lettuce, and skipped classes to go rock climbing. I exited school with far less ambition then I entered. Now, I barely have the qualifications to be a bus boy.

Half of the time, I am broke. The other half of the time, I do not have any money. I finished school at UCSC in the middle of June and headed straight to Yosemite. Graduating was not good. With the sponsorship of Pell Grants and Federal Direct Subsidized Loans, I managed to pay for climbing trips, buy gear, and climb a lot for four steady years. Recieving my degree meant a dry well; no more student loans. I needed to work and be able to climb somewhere. My old friend and climbing partner, Jens Holsten, instisted that I could find a job in Washington. “It will be rad," he told me in the Toulumne Meadows parking lot. "You can stay at the climber's house in Peshastin, you'll just have to spot and belay for room and board. Plus, we can carpool to Leavenworth." The Icicle Ridge Winery needed help in a couple days, and Jens, a typical dirtbag, needed a ride. Imagine that.

I climbed for eight weeks. It was sick. I pulled, cranked, fell, then pulled and cranked more. On week eight I started pulling and cranking, then felt a pop and my palm tingled. The tendons to my pinkie and ring finger tore apart Suddenly my right hand was useless. That meant no climbing and worst yet, no sex life. Jens assured me that I could make it through the recovery, at least I could find employment. He found a job, pouring wine at the Icicle Ridge Winery for minimum wage. Even Max, my roommate, had found work. The Fudge Hut employed Max, having him sell chocolate and wear the local costume for Octoberfest and the tourist filled summer months. He packed fudge in his leiderhosen.

The manager at Viscontis, John Morgan examined my resume. He told me I was overqualified for the position. Obviously, he had never seen me work. He needed help though and three weeks later he hired me as a bus boy for the Italian restaurant. I clear wineglasses, set tables, and box food. I also break glasses, arrive stoned, and hide behind the ice machine when the restaurant becomes busy. The other bussers wonder why I work there. I am old. I have a college degree. The servers think I should apply for John’s job, a position with responsibility, benefits, and stability. I wonder if they hate me.

I'm stuck in Leavenworth, working in bus boy hell, saving money to move and get another dead end job. The move will take me a month. I will drive to San Francisco, climb, drive to Utah, climb, drive to Vegas, climb, and then drive to Boulder. The four weeks of blowing the little bit of loot I scratched from carrying trays of lasgna, will be worth it. I hope.