tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1037082539294325152012-01-11T18:02:37.533-06:00Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.comBlogger661100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-12627235837360610332012-01-01T15:56:00.001-06:002012-01-01T19:54:34.250-06:00

I've been meaning to finish my little series on trail food for oh, months.  But you know how it goes.  Babies get older and start pushing peas around with their pointer finger and it's so endearing it knocks the wind out of you.  So I've been set back a few times, but I haven't forgotten.  Probably a year ago, I went through all of my pictures from the Appalachian Trail and realized how many I

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-67070691700609609652011-10-26T13:32:00.003-05:002011-10-26T17:58:14.394-05:00

Bearboy.  Has it really been 8 months?  Impossible.  In these months, I have learned what people mean when they say "It goes so fast!" and "Time flies when they're that little."  It means right when I think things are a certain way - your sleep, your favorite songs, what time of day you'll want food - it changes.  And suddenly you are a whole new baby.  It's wild.  I used to plunk you on my chest

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-27154971897288375192011-10-14T00:29:00.001-05:002011-10-14T12:33:17.394-05:00

The best meal of the day was lunch. We piled Camembert and Brie on bagels and topped it with apples.  Or with mayo, mustard, tomatoes and avocado.    This is me at my Aunt JJ's house, jamming down on a spring roll.  Next up was probably some kind of cake...    Longshot is eating a Pro Bar, a $14 granola bar that includes something from every food group.  These things will make you skip up

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-87711624294204438262011-10-11T01:16:00.003-05:002011-10-11T09:20:47.036-05:00

I almost forgot to include The Bearbag in these pics!  This system of hanging our food in the air to keep it away from squirrels, coons, critters and the occasional bear, soon became obsolete.  I guess because we just got lazy.  Even though some hikers around us actually had their tents ripped and their food bags rifled through by a real live Snickers-addicted black bear, and one kid "

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-58720549171141846712011-10-08T14:34:00.002-05:002011-10-08T14:38:47.615-05:00

About a week ago Dust and I celebrated our three-year trailaversary.  He was in dress pants, driving, when he got a text from me, folding clothes, that said something like "3 yrs today!"  A few virtual high-fives on Facebook from hiker friends, and that little pause in the day to look up from corporate America and grocery lists and go Huh. We really did that is pretty much all we did to

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-12016679553762069822011-09-06T13:17:00.001-05:002011-09-06T13:31:18.298-05:00

The dread of dirty snow and frozen snot trails grabs us by the scruff of our necks, pins us down, and warns us to seize the summer for all we can wrestle from it.  That's why I'm never here anymore.  I'm obviously not devoted to my blog, but it's been months since I've breathed the Dairy Air, and I miss it!  The truth is, if this space gets all sorts of attention, it means the dog hair is

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-69265657763720747172011-06-30T09:37:00.005-05:002011-07-01T14:31:25.974-05:00

1 week 2 months 4 months Babies grow.  Almost, if not more amazing, than birth itself. You do new things every day, little Bear.  You hold your head far from my shoulder when I burp you, stretching to see what is new in the same corner you've been staring at since you were born.  Every day, it seems, you do find something new amidst all that sameness.  Or do you have a favorite thing you

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-86813129879341366112011-06-06T15:23:00.005-05:002011-06-06T16:04:47.241-05:00

Here's the thing with June in Wisconsin.  At some point you may be able to say "I could really use a sweatshirt."  In which case, it's not really summer.  But I will say, winter has most definitely lost its grip.  On my daily walks, I've watched the mammoth snow pile leftover from the blizzard turn to a sad gray lump, full of trash and pieces of road signs.  Just a few days ago it was a lousy

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-2692069754022778392011-06-01T14:19:00.013-05:002011-06-01T18:30:40.093-05:00

Mid-May I held my boy up to the security scanner and walked through, without a beep.  First time in my life I didn't have to take off my earrings.  He gave everybody this wild look with his big blue eyes and bobbed his head around as I lugged him through the airports.  I'll omit the parts where I was hopelessly failing at retrieving my boarding pass + ID while juggling all that was in my hands,

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-55425867359208694992011-04-29T20:05:00.000-05:002011-04-29T20:05:05.612-05:00

Hard to believe this is the same baby! 

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-41190291308022449002011-04-26T22:14:00.004-05:002011-04-26T23:34:41.693-05:00

So, yeah!  I had a baby!  Two months ago.  Here I am to tell about it at last. For weeks after giving birth, I had a nagging sense of procrastination when it came to my birth story.  Shouldn't I blog, or at least journal, about all that had happened to me?  Because wouldn't I quickly forget the smell of amniotic fluid, and how cumbersome it was to weigh two hundred and forty five pounds (!!

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-8887863264864907522011-03-12T22:39:00.001-06:002011-03-12T23:07:49.019-06:00

He doesn't look like this anymore, because his skin has since molted and grown back and molted again.  And we've also washed the blood off his eyebrow.  But here he is, seconds after birth. Bear Balkcom (yep, full name) Born February 25th at 9:40am Weighed 8 pounds Measured 20 inches Already Bear is a natural fixture on our chests, in our bed, in our life.  On the way to the lake yesterday

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-19296979670119718022011-02-22T16:36:00.001-06:002011-02-22T16:40:48.161-06:00

These are exciting days.  Since this boy is taking his sweet little time, I've gotten to do everything I wanted to do...twice!  That includes hand-crafting a mobile of woodland creatures, rolling and re-rolling every last swaddling blanket and fluffing all my beautiful cloth diapers.  But before any of that started, I was painting every crevice of this room and closet, from the baseboards to the

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-66448724943824515552011-02-04T16:16:00.004-06:002011-02-04T17:01:53.179-06:00

Snow on the beach - you can't find that just anywhere.  Canada.  And Antarctica.  Snow and sand, wool and water, sunglasses and trapper hats - things that shouldn't go together. But there is something really, really enthralling about what Nature does here in Wisconsin.  And I don't just mean 7-foot snow drifts in front of our apartment.  It's more the combination of the power of the lake and the

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-62124175597276093192011-01-18T15:45:00.000-06:002011-01-18T15:45:03.811-06:00

Just like that, 2011.  To keepers of journals, those things really matter.  I used to relish the first entry of a new year.  My journals don't keep so well anymore.  Entries jump from one really devastating/brilliant/milestone kind-of-thing to a grocery list and then fast forward to some doodles of ways I should wear my hair since it's long.  All those things you think you would do with your hair

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-68938740959712170062010-11-10T23:53:00.005-06:002010-11-11T00:33:07.317-06:00

I'm on a roll with all the before-and-afters, can you tell?  Here is a project that taught us both a lot.  We both learned to do things we'd never done before.  We'll start with the very first before.  Well - ok, not true.  The very first before would be a six-year-old picture of a big cross-section of a tree.  I don't have the real picture, but it was honestly not far from this: It came from -

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-77846119513686225572010-11-10T07:50:00.001-06:002010-11-10T07:54:23.524-06:00

This is one of my faves.  Why?  Because I still remember the day Dust brought this heinous checkered mirror home.  Another $5 yard sale find.  It sat and sat and sat in our storage room.  It survived the move.  And finally the lightbulb went off.  Dustan built a bench with storage onto the mirror, and I added the hooks from another piece and gave it some painterly love.  Seriously, what would we

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-34778182224633210582010-11-08T11:05:00.004-06:002010-11-08T11:23:40.835-06:00

It's been a while since I've shared some projects, so I decided to dip into my "moving in" archives and pull up some of the stuff I did when we first got to Wisconsin. We'll start with our desk that weighs 700 pounds.  Take the drawers out and it might be 650.  Anything so solid just cannot be abandoned in a move.  And isn't that the maddening part of moving?  When you show up to help someone

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-4307387267337797152010-11-01T10:55:00.004-05:002010-11-01T11:11:23.567-05:00

This year Dustan and I bought a CSA share at a local farm in Oak Creek.  You can read about it here, if you're interested in that sort of thing. It was a funny thing, that white box. Most people would love a box of organic vegetables spilling onto their counter.  We dreaded this white box like The Plague.  First of all, pickup was every Wednesday before 7pm at a house near us in Racine. 

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-40176861833940223592010-09-13T21:59:00.002-05:002010-09-13T22:06:10.482-05:00

Today Dustan and I have been married for seven whole years. Seven years! That's a long time. I remember back when we were engaged. We were convinced the Apocalypse would come before September 13, 2003 and we would never get to leave a party together and go home and crawl into bed and say things like "You were my favorite person in the room." But here we are. 2010 and many moons later.

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-14605394058985325812010-09-06T18:41:00.013-05:002010-11-08T11:33:26.868-06:00

There's this project that's been in the works for ages. To be honest, it makes me very tired to think of making something like this happen. Ryan wasn't too tired. He set himself on fire with a good idea, and that idea turned into action. He decided to have people who make good music get together and make some good music for a children's album. Then he would sell that album and all the money

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-8308704777086245732010-08-12T22:44:00.003-05:002010-08-12T23:10:06.421-05:00

Two days ago I was hating myself for not having texting in my plan.  Because waaaay over in Tennessee little Clara Lou was born, and she was there in all her blonde-haired glory making those tiny squeaking noises in a glass bed, but I couldn't see her because we aren't texters, and we don't get videos from our friends on our phones. Or pictures from our sisters after their babies are born.** And

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-84220662108064897852010-08-04T15:35:00.001-05:002010-08-04T15:36:45.746-05:00

Several days ago I was emailing my friend Jess, saying how I really don't care what my kid is like - as long as he or she isn't too serious, knows how to have a conversation with adults, and has an appreciation for good cheese.  That last part I wasn't even thinking about, it just came out.  Little did I know, I was about to meet The Coolest Kid in the Whole World and he would prove my own point

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-24220827829581974482010-07-21T18:32:00.005-05:002010-07-21T20:17:07.273-05:00

Two days ago changed my life.  You'll never believe what I did.    I gave blood without crying, passing out, or needing a large woman in scrubs to wave smelling salts in front of my nose.  Smelling salts?  Yup - ammonia is called that in the real world, not just in Anne of Green Gables.  When The Deed was done, I looked over and saw my FOUR tubes of blood and right there on the tray beside my

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-46937767964839392292010-07-14T22:30:00.002-05:002010-07-14T22:40:43.291-05:00

This is when I tell the internet I'm pregnant.  Pretty fitting, coming on the heels of that last post, huh?  You can only do so much with a hot husband in a workshop filled with Rocket Rockers.  On the way home today I saw a lady walking a very old dog.  I mean, the lady was getting up there herself.  But the dog, which used to be black, was now a splotchy gray.  His legs were skinny and his body

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-44686901647121162992010-06-11T11:31:00.001-05:002010-06-11T11:38:34.994-05:00

I don't really get the obsession with kids' toys, quite honestly.  It's like a man designing high heels or a bra.  It's like vegetarians who smoke.  Or homeschoolers with bad attitudes.  We don't have kids yet but oh if we did they'd have the coolest toys and most imaginatively explosive playrooms ever.  In the meantime, it's this weird paradox.  Gepetto in his workshop churning out stoves and

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-47936901630157789162010-06-10T16:14:00.003-05:002010-06-10T16:26:29.080-05:00

Some days I find myself reaching out for relationship on the internet, only to keep coming up empty.  I hate that feeling.  A vacant inbox, no Facebook alerts, blogs abandoned, nothing good to Google.  How dull, how lonely, how dumb.  Oh look!  An email!  From Urban Outfitters.  You know it's bad when you start reading your own spam. Days like this I'm clicking around in my inbox, remembering

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-90600183273089418912010-05-27T09:42:00.006-05:002010-05-27T11:37:26.381-05:00

Right.  An oil spill, sushi making, Jane Goodall, the Rocket Rocker, houseguests and derelict blogging.  Where was I? So my Sis came in April, and her visit timed with not only her birthday but also the fifth month of her pregnancy.  Fifth month?  I think.  Pregnant ladies make it hard because they speak in weeks, not months.  Week 14, Week 28, Week 36 - milestones that mean nothing to me and

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-6798368990071631732010-05-26T23:42:00.001-05:002010-05-26T23:43:22.439-05:00

I stole this off Lindsay's Facebook because it's so excruciating.  This is Eve, and she is a star.  And she totally knows it.

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-41922625631328609902010-05-26T00:28:00.003-05:002010-05-26T00:33:47.922-05:00

   This is Addy, she's my neighbor. I love this picture!

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-21568757434955374902010-05-18T17:11:00.000-05:002010-05-18T17:11:02.731-05:00

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-58516172570713676752010-04-29T14:47:00.001-05:002010-04-29T22:13:45.884-05:00

Ok, really Dustan made something to eat.  And this was something that he's been haunted by ever since I've known him.  Buffalo Chicken.  Dustan remembers the first time he ate a buffalo chicken sandwich the way some people describe their first time seeing Lord of the Rings.  Like, all other food now pales in comparison and he could eat this food any time, anywhere, and never get tired of

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-89894075061320633352010-04-15T10:21:00.002-05:002010-04-15T10:43:59.755-05:00

It's a good morning here in Wisconsin.  The sun is out and it's doing its job.  Warming the earth, pulling my face up, poking fun at my hooded sweatshirt and causing all black dogs everywhere to pant with a heavy grin.  I have the windows open, and music from passing cars fills my house.  What was once a dull thud is now the full range, treble and all.    Tonight's gonna be a good night. 

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-69609013834265897002010-04-05T21:29:00.001-05:002010-04-05T21:29:59.452-05:00

This is one of those "abandon it altogether" kind of times.

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-29347980988385695712010-03-23T23:04:00.003-05:002010-03-24T12:18:33.651-05:00

The bathroom was a kick-myself-in-the-head project.  It was a doozy.  I hated it.  I could definitely see the progress, because it was also the room in most need of a paint brush and a caulking gun.  But it just killed.  The reason was, I had in my mind that I wanted a grey bathroom.  When I say grey, I mean white with black in it.  You know, something kinda modern and clean-looking.  What

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-51081618719657489072010-03-22T22:16:00.002-05:002010-03-22T22:23:47.804-05:00

I love looking at what is taking shape in this playroom.  It all started about a month ago.  Dustan and I were over at the Knapps hanging out one Saturday.  Brian had caught a throw-up virus that week and had been puking his guts out, and was recovering from being sick.  That stands out in my mind because the whole time we brainstormed, he was enthusiastic in his Brian kind of way, but

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-16175292952110633962010-03-21T22:05:00.001-05:002010-03-21T22:06:01.446-05:00

You know how sometimes you get something in your head that you really want to make, but you can't find a recipe anywhere for it?  You search by ingredients on all the right online cooking sources and still - nothing.  This is how I was with an ice cream pie I wanted to make.  I didn't want nuts or fruit or even chocolate getting in the way of the ice cream, and I definitely wanted the

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-49006328848319305242010-03-18T22:53:00.002-05:002010-03-24T12:12:05.015-05:00

Ok, here goes.  Here goes the before and afters of my dear little kitchen.  I know I'm behind on this blog, and today's my Trailisms day, which I was really, really excited about.  But it will have to wait because these pictures are starting to mildew on my hard drive.  They're starting to suffocate, because I have promised them exposure.  My kitchen was the second room in our apartment to

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-17280985706236767982010-03-15T23:09:00.002-05:002010-03-15T23:12:05.189-05:00

Here's a picture that I've always loved.  I think because I've watched Reese since Man in the Moon, since A Far Off Place, about which you already know I have strong opinions.  She's an all-time favorite.  I remember watching her make the circuit to promote Legally Blonde way back in the day.  It was like a crock pot recipe exchange mixed with how sweet she makes her iced tea.  What I

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-70376871788912686652010-03-14T21:44:00.004-05:002010-03-14T22:00:10.875-05:00

 Well hello!  This weekend was a blur.  Why?  Because now there's a playroom 8 blocks down that has big red walls, covered in trees and owls - and blue walls too, starry and whimsical.  There's a treehouse.  A real one, with a big tall ladder to climb, and little windows with shutters that open and close.  There's a rope swing underneath and a great place to create Lego masterpieces.  Across the

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-38451639202238975782010-03-08T23:33:00.000-06:002010-03-08T23:33:04.856-06:00

So I'm totally faltering here, leaving my blog un-updated for days.  I've been in a weird place.  Friday I found out one of my friends died.  A friend my age, and freaking STRAP of a man, who had a wild heart and a dancing wife and a life poured out before God.  With leukemia somewhere in the mix.  It pushed everything interesting and witty and energetic right off the table and left me with a big

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-91021468960752915392010-03-04T21:28:00.004-06:002010-03-04T22:47:31.815-06:00

 Ok, y'all.  I am so excited about this feature.  (I love how I refer to features within my blog like it's the New York Times).  Anyway, I just sat and went through all of our hundreds and hundreds of pictures of our thru-hike on the Appalachian Trail and... it was amazing.  I mean really.  Suddenly I'm having one of those moments where it's hard to believe something is real.  Dustan and I have

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-81616191412085754732010-03-04T11:28:00.003-06:002010-03-04T11:32:42.631-06:00

Sorry I don't have time to do a real post today, but I thought I would share something with you. If you eat a pretzel and wash it down with orange juice, it tastes just like a sausage biscuit. I'm just sayin'.

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-4750703491837851932010-03-03T07:33:00.002-06:002010-03-04T22:30:53.611-06:00

This filing cabinet was one of those things that I didn't like but I didn't hate and we definitely needed to keep handy with important stuff that I'm notorious for losing (social security cards, marriage licenses, school records, passports...).  So I decided to spruce it up a bit.   First I found an image for inspiration.  I don't remember where it come from, but I'm giving the credit back to

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-3649216014698914942010-03-01T21:55:00.174-06:002010-03-04T22:32:32.794-06:00

There's something so strange about pictures.  I mean, I definitely don't understand how cameras work, so therein is enough Why is the Sky Blue mystery to keep my gears huffing and puffing.  But even beyond the technology of taking (and successfully getting) a picture is the idea that we want to grab a sight out of the air and make it last.  I did this, I saw her, he was there, we were all

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-64180985686576878992010-02-28T20:12:00.002-06:002010-03-04T22:32:50.458-06:00

I did some tinkering on my blog this weekend to change the layout.  The banners I made are kind of obnoxiously large, but I don't have the energy to change them.  All my pictures are on one hard drive, my photo editing program is on another, and I run back and forth between the laptop in my guest room and the desktop in the living room with a little memory stick so many times I am going to

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-50482175839168912722010-02-26T11:58:00.001-06:002010-02-26T12:26:36.066-06:00

Today is Friday, and it's the day I was going to write about a memory from the Appalachian Trail.  But instead I thought I'd tell you what happened to me night before last. When I told people we were moving to Wisconsin, I could kind of visualize myself already here.  In my mind I was wearing a piece of foam cheese on my head.  Ice fishing with a man named Bernie.  Doing shots of beer cheese

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-81807114500967331592010-02-25T07:57:00.002-06:002010-02-26T10:28:20.732-06:00

Dustan and I are doing P90X.  It's all the rage.  It's how skinny people get even skinnier, and also totally ripped.  It's how soft, desk-bound people torture themselves at night.  P90X.  We are doing P90X because we were fat.  We hiked the entire Appalachian Trail, but then we moved back in with Mom and she made us chicken pot pie and we got fat again.  Who wants to be an AT thru-hiker with

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-15141851036300229002010-02-24T08:00:00.005-06:002010-03-04T22:37:32.873-06:00

*I updated this post at the end.* I sit here, scrolling through huge chunks of photos, not even knowing where to begin.  So I guess I'm gonna start with the first thing I painted in the apartment.  Our bedroom.  When we got here, it was hot and sticky - even in Wisconsin.  I couldn't believe it.  We just kept moving piles of boxes from one corner to the next until we couldn't take it anymore,

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-54456005992293069652010-02-23T07:00:00.002-06:002010-03-04T22:33:19.242-06:00

Today is the day I get to use a picture to talk about whatever the heck I want.  Here's a picture that makes me happy every time I look at it.  This is a blog right?  What good would it be without some awkward Internet confessions.  I really like animals more than kids.  I mean, I like kids all right, in fact I have a really fun time with some of them.  But if there was a dog to pet in one

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-29589831070227245022010-02-22T07:16:00.005-06:002011-02-16T16:06:51.223-06:00

First things first.  Nabisco owns Oreos.  Secondly, that last post about killed me because I pasted it into Blogger from Word. I know Microsoft and Google don't play well in the sandbox, but seriously? It was a nightmare. Anyone know how to import posts? I can't always write in an open web browser. Ok anyway, I'm doing it. I'm kicking this blog into high gear. A week or so ago Dustan sat me down

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-39368127411581897442010-02-19T17:46:00.000-06:002010-02-19T17:57:42.345-06:00

Why did I even create this space? I definitely had a lot of passion for it at one point. I think that passion was coupled with the fact that I was no longer blogging in a public library, wearing sweaty hiking pants that smelled like death. Tales From the Dairy Air was my back-to-real-life blog, in which I’d show off recipes (because I actually have a kitchen), and post pictures of my colorful

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-55077954550744854042010-01-29T08:18:00.000-06:002010-01-29T08:29:36.002-06:00

I shouldn't have been up so late, and furthermore, shouldn't have been staring out my window like the persnickety lady with nothing better to do. But I was guilty on both counts, and so I saw the street fight. It wasn't the same as others. There was no pomp, no trash-talking, no chanting circle. Instead a few people were huddled around a car. At first I thought the car had rolled back on a

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-31931548492245444372010-01-06T20:26:00.000-06:002010-01-06T21:43:16.065-06:00

Ok, while I'm on the topic of making stuff, I couldn't resist sharing the awesomeness that is: The LiteBrite. Do you know this experience, coveted by all in the 80's? Do you remember the mind-numbing method of poking trillions of lights into black paper with a satisfying pop? You can imagine the Moment I had in that thrift store when I saw this puppy staring back at me for $3.50. Dustan's mom

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-21144794020178480702010-01-04T18:41:00.000-06:002010-01-04T21:39:37.535-06:00

I have a friend who used to date this guy and, well, she doesn't date him any more. When it was all finally over, she told me one of the things about him was that he didn't do anything with his hands. And it bothered her more than she knew. I thought it made perfect sense. I never knew I valued this in someone, but I totally do, and life would be totally not as good if I hadn't been

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-64041985633762839882009-12-02T22:29:00.000-06:002009-12-02T23:18:13.580-06:00

Please bear with the silence. I am currently working. I know, I know - it's unlike me to have a job. I'm riding to and from Milwaukee with Brahma every day, so that's nice. But I also have to get up before 6:00am to make life sane. That might sound like a contradictory statement. Wait - yup, it is.I'm temping at an home health agency called IndependenceFirst. It's an amazing zillion-dollar

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-83260593700515108422009-11-19T12:47:00.000-06:002009-11-19T14:27:36.605-06:00

So I've had this old, lusciously worn pair of Dustan's corduroys laying around forever. You know cords, they get better with age. And if Dustan happens to put on a wool sweater with his cords and ruffle his hair a bit, he looks really J.Crew and I fall more in love with him.But now they're done. Through oil changes and banister-sliding, from Virginia to Wisconsin, these pants have been loved

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-81540041236492924302009-11-19T08:51:00.000-06:002009-11-19T12:47:06.420-06:00

A few days ago our furnace broke. It just wouldn't kick on. The thermostat told us it was 63 degrees in our apartment. 63 degrees is brrrrrrrrrr. Just knowing it was that cold made it that much worse. Imagine me hunched over my laptop with fingerless gloves on, swaddled in layers of cotton and fleece. Makes you wanna go boil some water, throw on the hot water in the shower and let it run,

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-9818857859633019482009-11-16T17:03:00.001-06:002009-11-16T17:18:53.539-06:00

The toy kitchen project is still going strong. Here's an update that shows the little shelf, eyes on the stove and the genius no-pinch door design. A sneak peek at our storage room. As I mentioned before, this room is an old cigar room (or maybe purposed for a future cigar room? as all Wisconsin bars will become smoke-free by law in 2010). Either way, for now it's the place where our

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-63146337650555092012009-11-07T11:27:00.000-06:002009-11-07T16:13:15.418-06:00

Since we've been in Racine we've had the greatest stream of company ever. It just shows that people pretty much think we're awesome.It started with Tanner back in September. I have no pictures from that visit, and hardly any lucid memories because it was like one big fog of Dustan and Tanner fishing and talking late into the night. But I will say it was great to have Tanner here. He bought us

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-52078411807342562352009-11-04T23:54:00.000-06:002009-11-05T12:11:32.838-06:00

It was late. We'd schlepped every last box up the stairs. Discombobulation filled the room. Lamps had abandoned their shades, chairs were upturned, little paths were necessary to get from one room to the next. I remember I took a shower and made coffee, swept everything off the table to clear just one space.It was time to stare at swatches.Picking a paint color is a funny thing in this house. It

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-18753763446756558412009-11-02T21:52:00.000-06:002009-11-02T22:30:54.592-06:00

It never fails that once the air has cleared and things have settled down, another project comes along. You can't really visualize this because I still haven't posted what will be a mere handful of the thousands of pictures I have of before-and-after projects ranging from white walls turning avocado green to the spray painting of a beloved caution orange lamp. But trust me, the projects have

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-75963430127094286752009-10-21T12:32:00.000-05:002009-10-21T12:44:30.259-05:00

So I'm tired of looking at my own blog. One thing I forgot is that when you finally "launch" your blog, you have to then keep it updated. Which can be such a drag. And now instead of resenting the fact that I don't have a blog, I am resenting the fact that I never UPDATE my blog. I feel like I might have fought off a cold in my sleep. Only that my immune system didn't escape clean, and now

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-45037097162885554012009-10-14T16:59:00.000-05:002009-10-14T17:21:28.941-05:00

Once when I was in college, while I was supposed to be writing a paper about T.S. Eliot, I found a blog accidentally. I'm pretty sure it was less of an accident and more like a heist, in which my web browser clambered over top of Microsoft Word and kicked it in the kidneys and was like 'Look how she articulates!' and I've been following ever since. Then a really cool thing happened. I got to

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-27128997201964765542009-10-05T23:48:00.001-05:002009-10-06T11:14:39.798-05:00

So way back in the day, in land far away, I did this internship in Texas. Texas is made out of red dirt and it's heat is hotter than a thousand hells. There, the heat comes down from above and in from the sides and it kind of wafts up from the ground. An inescapable heat, way harsher than Africa. Dawn might challenge me on this. Anyway. At this internship I learned a lot about God, and

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103708253929432515.post-76494048065336214302009-07-15T12:39:00.000-05:002009-07-15T12:40:09.774-05:00

Testing, testing.

Betsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13662654640936474294noreply@blogger.com4