Sorry.....I'm Not Sorry

Friday night at 8:00, Duke and I hauled the kids up to a cheap hotel (not really, it was actually expensive but it sure looked cheap. Thank you Bay Area prices) in Pacifica so that he could start a 100k training run. The plan was to start there and basically run home. Of course, being the good ultra runner widow that I am, I said I would provide support in the form of a mobile aid station. He would start at 6:00, I would drive to his 15 mile mark later in the morning and then jump ahead of him every 5-10 miles. Of course, an all day event like this takes some planning.

All week long, Duke would hand me new print outs of maps or send me spreadsheets of times and places to meet him. I realized that he had no list of things that he would need so I decided that as "crew captain" I had better get one started. I put together a list of food, first aid, and clothing that he would need and shared it with him on Google Docs so that he could add to it. I went to the grocery store 2 days before to obtain the necessary items, boiled eggs the day before, and sat with him the night before going over the maps.

Things went quite smoothly Friday night (except for my cranky attitude. Apparently I get stressed worrying about the details.) We got to bed at the hotel around 10:00 which is just perfect considering the fact that one doesn't usually sleep very well in a foreign bed. And that theory proved itself to be true when I spent the night waking up from dreams where I had already gotten up and helped Duke get ready. I think I helped him get ready twice in my sleep without ever waking up! No one can say that I don't care about his success in these endeavors. Apparently I do it in my sleep!

Eventually, Duke got up for real and got himself ready to go. Notice I said he got himself ready. I didn't need to do anything but get out the food for him. So much for worrying in my sleep! He left at exactly the time we had set. I got the kids up an hour and a half later, took them to breakfast, and headed out of town AFTER stewing over the map to figure out where I was supposed to meet Duke. Apparently we hadn't gone over the first meeting point as thoroughly as we had the other spots.

I finally called him and luckily his phone was on and he had cell coverage. Apparently he got lost for about 15 minutes and then later got stopped by the water company and was given a warning citation for trespassing. (That's his story to tell!) We finally connected at the designated point and he was only 15 minutes behind schedule.  He looked just fine and acted just fine but my wifely instincts (in hindsight) didn't feel fine.

Our next stop was an hour later so the kids and I ran into Half Moon Bay to get fuel for the car and fuel for Mom, i.e. Starbucks. With coffee in hand we drove back up to Skyline and sat in the parking lot of the Mountain House restaurant for the next 30 minutes. By this time what was supposed to be an hour between the last aid station (15 mile mark) this one (21 mile mark) had turned into almost an hour and a half.

When Duke arrived the first thing he did was lie down on the ground...at 21 miles. Ok, well, it was a long hill up to this spot so I guess that's warranted. He's a tough guy, former Marine, he knows what he's doing. Load him up, fill him up with food and ship him out! We'll meet him in 10 miles, 2-3 hours, at Alice's Restaurant. An hour later I get a text:

"So I think this is not my day".

Me: "oh no, why?"

Duke: "No energy, been walking the last 3 miles"

Me: "So what do you want to do?"

Duke "Just come get me. I'm on the highway now."

Me: "Are you sure?"
        "Headed out now"

Duke: "Yes, I think I need to recover more before Rio Del Lago"


At this point a couple of things were going through my head. Any good crew captain would assess the situation and see if there was anyway the the runner could keep going. Obviously he wasn't hurt and he could still walk therefore in most race situations he just needed to keep going. A short rest, some more food and then send him on his way. But I must admit that at the bottom of my thoughts, the first thing to go through my head was, "yay! now we get to spend the day together!" So not only does Duke feel like a loser for quitting but I feel guilty for being happy that he quit. Great combination!

The kids and I found him on the side of the road and we drove back to Alice's Restaurant and had lunch. All through lunch I kept asking him if he wanted to start running again. (All the while hoping that he didn't.) He said he was done. He felt it was better to rest this weekend as he has another 50k next weekend and the Rio Del Lago 100 miler in November. (Yay!!) He felt that it was a smart judgement call. I have to admit that he actually was being mature about this run. I mean, he even packed toilet paper!!!

By the time we got home, Duke was still tired. My wifely instincts had been correct. This was just not his day. Something wasn't right about the run even though it was planned quite well. I think that if my energy had been more in line with his finishing the run, he might have been able to do it. Maybe. It's hard to know. All I know is that I got to spend the rest of my day with him and that was heaven! So honey, sorry...I'm not sorry that you didn't finish! I think we were both winners yesterday!

To Poop or Not To Poop

Disclaimer: this post is not a particularly "PG" post. Not all of my readers will enjoy it...(Mom). 

Believe it or not, the subject of bowel movements comes up often in an ultra runners household. You would think that it is a moot point as normally if we need to use the facilities we do so without discussing it. But what do you do when there AREN'T any facilities? This is the crux of the conversations that I am "privy" to in my house. And yes, puns are intended throughout this post. How else am I going to add levity to this poopy subject?

For those of you that are not part of an ultra runners "running" dialogue after their weekly outings, let me take you through a typical conversation when my husband gets home.

Me: How was your run?

Duke: Good!...Great!

Me: Good!.......So.......(knowing full well that the poop, I mean scoop, would come out sooner or later and we might as well hear about while it's fresh.)

Duke: Well, I ended up turning around at the cutoff instead of taking it as planned due to the fact that there was no trail there.....(this goes on for a while)

Me: mm-hmmm....mm-hmmmm (etc.)

*silence*

Duke: Actually, I needed to poop and couldn't decide if I should go while I was out there and if so, where should I go.

(here it comes)

Duke: I thought there would be an outhouse at "X" point but there wasn't. I could have gone at "Y" but that place is gross. (This is a prior service Marine with with war experience we are listening to. If he thinks it's gross, it most likely is.) At that point I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I really needed to go!

(I am now rolling my eyes wondering when this crappy subject was going to end.)

Duke: Then I saw these really big leaves! So I gathered a bunch up and ran to a spot that was private enough. It worked great!

Me: Okaaaaaayyyyy...glad it all came out ok. Maybe you should carry some T.P. with you just in case.

Duke: Yeah, I've been thinking about that.


OK. Why is he just thinking about it?! Just do it for shit's sake! Just take the damn T.P. and be prepared! You can then just go whenever the need strikes. No worries over what clean up tools you will use! AND I won't have to hear about your worries over where, when, and how you were going to take a dump. Apparently this isn't just an issue with my husband. I got to hear about this from his runner friend over the weekend who's wife backed up the fact that she hears about it too.

My question is, why do we have to talk about it? I mean, I know that we all poop. It's like Number 2 on our list of important things to do everyday, next to Number 1. But do we really need to talk about it? Apparently, we do. So my next question is, why?! When I asked Duke about this his answer was, of course, quite simple.

Because it's fun!

Fun for you, my dear, but it's really shitty for me to listen to!

It Takes One to Know One

I will admit, I have been kind of ticked off at Duke the last 24 hours. And I will admit that that my mood has been slowly developing the last two weeks. Why two weeks ago, you ask, and not three years ago? Maybe it's because it was around two weeks ago that I officially said I would start really supporting his running. I made this decision when I realized that he was really serious about running his first 100 miler.

When Duke signed up for his first 100 mile, he informed me that it will the Angeles Crest 100. I had just heard about this race via his comments that some of the best runners he knows had DNF'd this summer. NOT a good sign for his first 100 mile! Friends told him he should do an easier 100 mile before AC 100 for "practice". I agreed that it was not only a good idea but really essential for his success at the AC 100. After all, I don't need the father of my children dying out on the trail due to lack of training. So logic says, one must prepare for the big event properly....

WHAT WAS I THINKING!?!?!?!?!?!?!

So now my husband's training schedule has changed. More runs, longer runs, more core workouts, and more cross training. Yesterday morning (Friday), instead of having coffee with me, he rode his bike down the mountain from our house into work. That's when I got ticked off. And I stayed in that mood. Only a visit to the salon to get my hair washed seemed to perk me up. (It was either that or retail therapy and so I chose the cheaper one.) By last night I was in a slightly better mood as we had company over to the house for drinks and it was a nice distraction. That is until Duke started getting his running things together while we were still entertaining guests!

By this time I knew I had better figure out how I was going to handle the next several years of my life. I knew I couldn't stay angry at Duke or the situation or else we were going to have major problems. That's when I had to ask myself, "Why are you supporting this? You know that if you asked Duke to stay home, he would! What is it that makes you want to not only support him but even coach him a little? Why are you ok with dragging the whole family out camping in the Sierra's just so Duke can have a training run?" Then it hit me: It takes one, to know one.

What do I mean by this? Well, you have to know a little bit about me to understand how I am like an ultra runner without actually running. When you think about it, it takes a certain kind of obsessive psyche to dedicate oneself to something as dramatic as ultra running. So, you ask, what is as dramatic as ultra running? I would have to say drama itself. The ultimate form of over the top drama: Opera. I am a trained opera singer and voice teacher. I started training to be a musician when I was four years old. My parents are also musicians, my mother a pianist, my father a singer. I was born into the obsessive, dramatic, beautifully stressful, and creative world of the arts where nothing is done "half assed". You leave it all out on the floor or you don't bother!

I can remember directing a rehearsal with some college students a few years back. I was totally focused on the job at hand as we only had a week to put the show together. At one point my mother (the rehearsal pianist) stopped me quietly and said, "Ummmm, Martha, maybe you should take a break. It's been 6 hours since you started and you haven't stopped. You need to eat." I was afraid to stop and sit down for fear I wouldn't be able to get back up.

I can also remember the numerous times where I had practiced for weeks on a program or audition only to get sick the two days before and have to cancel. If I had just taken the time to recover and rest while rehearsing during those weeks, I may not have gotten sick. Or maybe I would have anyway. It's hard to say. But recovery is 30% of the rehearsal process. Or is it 30% of the training process?

When I'm in a rehearsal, I can literally lose track of time. It's ceases to exist. The only thing that is real is the music I am singing, the sounds coming out of the group I am directing onstage, the emotions being portrayed by singer in front of me, or the fascination with the voice I am working with at that moment.

When I am in the process of preparing for a recital the music constantly is running through my head. While I'm driving to pick up the kids I am thinking about what I could do differently to express that particular lyric in a way that will reach my audience. I am thinking about what I could have differently in rehearsal to produce the sounds that I am looking for. What physical thing could I have done to make it sound better? I didn't feel very well during rehearsal. Did I not eat enough? Did I eat too much? Was I hydrated enough? Did I not warm up enough?

Hmmmmmm.... Nothing is done half assed, you need to take a break and eat, I was afraid to stop for fear of not getting going again, I need to rest and recover, I lose track of time, did I eat enough, have I drank enough, etc. etc.?? Doesn't this sound like an ultra runner's head? Yeah, it takes one to know one.

So as I sit here writing and waiting for Duke to get done running, I do it with love and patience because I know what it is like to be obsessed with something you love. I know what a rush it is to be in your element. And I know that when I ask to do my thing, he will always be there to support me. Now if I can just get him to crew for my recital this coming spring...

A New "Normal"

It's been a long time since I have posted on this blog and I decided that I needed to change the title to align more with our current lives. Interestingly, I started this blog when we were living in Switzerland. But, due to a habit that Duke picked up while we were living there, our lives have shifted somewhat dramatically.  At the time, though, I had no clue that his habit would become a mainstay in our lives. So much so, that I have become an "ultra runner widow".

Let me take a moment to give an explanation for why I am calling myself a "widow". There is a well known term in the surfing world that is used by the hundreds of women who wake up in the morning to an empty bed. NOT because the spouse is dead. NOT because their spouse is at work. NOT for any life threatening reason. Oh no, this would actually make sense and be an acceptable reason for waking up alone. No, these women know that their spouse is out in the ocean, sitting on a surf board, waiting for the next wave in hopes that it will push them towards the shore on a beautiful sleek wave that lasts for several minutes. The reality is that they most likely will be lucky enough to catch a half a dozen short, choppy waves in the 2-3 hours that they are out there. But it doesn't matter to them because, they are out there. So this feeling of being partially abandoned was eventually labeled as being a "surf widow". This is NOT meant to offend actual widows, obviously!

How do I know all of the above? Because at one time, I was a surf widow. Then we moved to Montana. And then Switzerland. And, of course, the surf was no longer accessible to Duke. So I no longer was abandoned in the mornings for hours on end! We actually spent time together in bed on Saturday mornings. He was around for breakfast and the kids were able to see him first thing when they woke up. It was so nice!

I should have enjoyed it more while I had it. I should have known that it wasn't going to last. I must digress a brief moment and explain that Duke has always been early riser. So I expect him to get up and go for a walk with the dog or a short run. It's not like I don't want him to have some time to himself and enjoy the outdoors. It's good for his physical health and even better for his mental health. So I definitely don't begrudge this time he takes for himself because it makes my life easier with him as well. I just didn't expect his exercising to take the form of something so intense and all consuming. What am I saying! It's Duke we are talking about! He doesn't do anything half assed. If 10 miles is good 20 has to better. If 20 is good well then 40 is much, much better. Thanks to a "friend" in Switzerland, this became the new fascination.

I could take the next two paragraphs trying to explain this psycho phenomenon but I think that the video below says it all!

Now that you have some knowledge of what ultra running is, you might start to understand why I have coined the phrase "ultra runner widow" for myself and any other person who lives with (and is abandoned by) an ultra runner. And yes, the video is pretty accurate.

One final note, please know that the majority of this post is all pretty much tongue in cheek as I am hopelessly proud of my husband and his accomplishments! And although he might not get home for breakfast....or lunch....and maybe even dinner, I know that he is there when it is most important! And it also means I can go do whatever I want, pretty much whenever I want. Nice trade off, huh?!

So Grateful to Give Thanks

As most of you that read my blog have noticed, I don't post very much.  Part of it is because I'm just lazy, lots of it is writers block but mostly I just don't like to share my thoughts when they aren't very pleasant.  As my grandmother always said, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all".  I guess if I could make a joke out of depression I would have a following like Ali Brosch does on her blog hyperboleandahalf.com.  But since I don't have her uncanny way of joking and writing cartoons, I choose to follow my grandmothers advice.  Luckily, I feel like I have something nice to say today, and so I thought I would share a few things.

Up until last weekend, I was going through some major unhappiness (for me).  Unfortunately, this seems to be a theme for me since moving to Zurich.  It isn't constant, but the roller coaster effect of one month I am happy and the next month I'm not, starts to wear on a person.  When the challenge of Thanksgiving in a foreign country started to rear it's head, I found I had very little energy to battle it.  Fortunately, I have a list of people and events in my life that are constantly there to pull me through these times.  So in no particular order, I am grateful that I can give thanks for the following:

Susan Stucki.  Susan is a new Swiss friend that I met here who has spent a good deal of time living as an expat in San Francisco.  When she heard that we weren't going to celebrate Thanksgiving, she said let's just do it!  She helped me plan the menu, she brought food with her and she helped me cook.  Susan was truly sent as a gift to me from the Creator to show me that as long as I keep my heart open, I will find family here.

Duke.  There isn't anything I could say that would do justice to the man who loves me for who I am and NEVER tries to change me. His support during this time has been truly saint-like.

My daughter has friends.  You have no idea how much relief this brings me.  I have never had my heart break as much as it has watching my little girl try and adapt here to a new language,school and culture.  She now has a friend that she says is just as good as her friends back in Montana.  Thank God!

My son's steadfastness in continuing to adapt here and his utter devotion to me.  My prayer is that I continue to learn how to accept his unconditional love for me.

My parents.  Their devotion to me, my husband, their grandchildren, their music and their students is humbling. 

Skype.  The avenue that allows me to see my parents everyday.  What a gift technology is.

My circle of friends here in Zurich.  They have no idea what their friendship and support has meant to me during the last nine months.  I'm not sure I could ever express that properly to them.

Linda, Danny and Ken and their love for me, the Path of the Pipe and their guidance.

The lessons I have learned about education here vs. the US.  This has helped me to understand the challenges that my children face at school and has enabled me to pave their way a bit more.

I am most grateful and thankful for my relationship with The Creator/God/Spirit, whatever you want to call it.  If it weren't for the lessons that I have been taught through this Path, I would never have survived here.  When I have felt the absolute worst, the inner knowing that I am loved and that everything has a place, time and reason has sustained me, strengthened me and best of all has helped me grow as a person.

I think the best lesson I have learned through all of this is that it doesn't matter where you move physically, you still carry all your baggage with you.  It just gets magnified in all of the upheaval.  When you strip away all of the things that you have built up to cover your baggage and you sort it out, you can then throw away the unnecessary pieces and take a good look at what you truly want.  It makes room for new experiences and gives you a feeling that you can do almost anything you set your mind to.

One last note, we always hear/say that it's the little things in life that are important or make a difference.  I couldn't have had a better event happen to prove this to me than when Ross tasted the pumpkin pie last night.  I had to make a homemade crust for the first time in  my life and on top of it, I had to try and do it in another country where the ingredients are always a bit different.  Ross hates pie crust but when he bit into this pie, he turned to me with a huge surprised smile on his face and said," Momma, it's the BEST pie I've ever tasted!".  Now that, my friends, is what brought tears to my eyes this Thanksgiving.

My love and blessings to all of you that read this and support me.  I am truly grateful that I can give thanks for each and every one of you.

Never Say Never

After much irritation and thought, I decided to volunteer my expertise as a musician to teach the elementary music classes at my children's private school in Switzerland.  Now, why would I do this if:

#1. I don't have a Music Ed. degree
#2. I don't enjoy little kids
#3. I have NO patience
#4. I have NO patience
#5. I have NO patience...

You get the idea.  Here, let me give you a little bit of background on me, for those of you that don't know me very well.  I grew up in a household where my parents were private and public school music teachers.  They still teach private students as well as college students that are studying to be public/private school teachers.  I used to watch my father work with those kids in the classroom and I watched the behaviors of those students and I swore to myself that I would never teach in that situation.  I found that the general student body ranged from being unresponsive to flat out disruptive in class.  It always seemed that there were only a handful of us that actually wanted to be there.  I watched my mother with her private students and it always seemed that only a handful actually put in the work during the week between lessons.  So, when I started my music education in college, I made the decision that I would never teach. 

Never say, "Never".

By my third year in college, my voice teacher had the foresight and wisdom to hire me as a private voice and piano teacher in the community school of music.  I must say that to begin with, I sucked. Like most of us do for the first year.  I didn't even know where to start with teaching voice.  (At least with the piano I had a pretty good idea of pedagogical tools that I inherited from my mother.)  What I lacked in basic vocal pedagogy, I made up for in piano skills and good ears.  That first year was one that I have now forgotten nor do I want to remember it.  I'm sure my impatience with students was enough to turn several of them away from music in general and that is embarrassing and breaks my heart.

But after those first months, I got into a groove.  I learned that I was never going to like teaching piano.  (I think that there has never been a day that I don't remember being able to play therefore I don't remember the feeling of being frustrated over not being able to read music.  This lack of sympathy makes me a poor teacher.)  But I do remember being a beginner in voice.  I remember not knowing what technique to warm up with.  I remember not understanding why I needed to write a word for word translation and I will always feel that I can't make the kind of sounds that my coach is asking for.  I get it.  So I love the joy of bringing a student through that challenge and making them feel like they can really do something beautiful with their voice.

Now here I am, teaching something that I swore I would never teach: elementary music.  And I have to say, that everything that I was avoiding by not putting myself in the situation is happening.  The lack of respect, the unresponsiveness, the goofing off, all of it.  And I really don't like it.  But it's rather interesting, the one thing of all of those that bothers me the absolute most is not the one that I thought would be the problem.  I thought for sure that the lack of respect and the goofing off would drive me up the wall the most.  Not so.  It's the unresponsiveness.  How can I get the couple of children who are not participating in class, who are acting like they are bored, who are basically just taking up space, how can I get them to react? 

Music is an international language.  Everyone speaks it in their hearts.  I teach at a bilingual school.  Learning another language is an everyday activity for these kids. So how can I teach them this brilliant international language? How can I reach their hearts?  What can I do in class that inspires 2nd and 3rd graders and keeps me from losing my cool?  I always play lip service to the importance of music, how it makes everyone feel something, how it is part of the fabric the holds our broken world together.  How can I use this incredible gift to inspire this next generation, help them to feel good about themselves and help them to treat one another in a kind, respectful and most of all, loving manner?

Unfortunately, I just started this part of my journey.  I am still in those first months and I am sure that I will make many mistakes.  But hopefully this time, I won't turn a child off from this beautiful gift.  Hopefully I will find the things that inspire these kids.  I say "hopefully" because I have learned, once again, to never say "Never".

Italy, Zurich and everything in between

After much deliberation (and when I say much, I mean MUCH), Duke and I decided to take the kids to Italy for the first week of spring break.  I found a villa in the Tuscany region, nestled below the two hilltop towns of Monte San Savino and Lucignano.  These two towns are just 40 minutes from the now extremely famous town of Cortona.  (More on that later.)

We decided that it was cheaper to drive than to take the train so after having consulted a handful of resources, we decided that we should leave earlier than we thought so as to avoid the major traffic in the tunnel that allows for easy passage through the Alps.  Our first stop was Genova where we stayed for two nights.

This is a city that I never got around to visiting while I was spending various semesters and summers in Italy.  It is a very old (duh, everything is old in Italy) seaside town that has its own flavor. We spent the day exploring downtown and of course began our culinary tour of this gastronomically gratifying country.  Among other things we sampled, we were able to try the farinata, the local pesto and the fresh seafood. After checking out the Duomo, seeing the various fountains and doing a little shopping, we stopped for lunch.  After we had gorged ourselves in pizza, lasagna, and simple pasta pomodoro, we left the restaurant to slowly waddle back to the hotel.  When one does the "waddle" it leaves more time to discover hidden gems as you can't walk past them too fast and miss them.  Low and behold, there was the house that Chrisopher Columbus lived in with his parents!  What a cool way to have a history lesson and I think the kids were impressed!  The biggest hit though, was the tall ship that was open for tours that had been made by a movie company, although it was quite authentic.

Cool boat!

The lady of the ship.

I wish I had some cool quote from "Pirates of the Caribbean" for this picture, but alas, I am not that cool. I can only quote Spaceballs.

This is where Ross gave us is lecture on how the tall ship is laid out.  Impressively, he was correct on about 99% of it!

The "belle" of the boat.

After doing the cursory tour of Genova, we headed to our main place of residence for the week.  I happened to find a beautiful little villa that would suit us just fine for the week.  (Never mind that the shower sucked and the heat roasted you in the attic and you froze on the main living floor.  This IS Italy after all.)

It has been photo shopped for color, but other than that, this is what it really looked like!

We spent Easter at the villa with the highlight being a gourmet, home cooked Tuscan meal at the main residence.  This meal was to die for!  It started with usual antipasti made up of cured meats, olives, bread and cheese.  It continued with homemade spinach and ricotta raviolli with a lemon zest and olive oil on top.  The secondi course was Florentine Bistecca (steak) with rosemary and olive.  Dessert was a creme with rasberry topping.  We finished eating at the fashionably late hour of 10:00pm.

 Monday morning we started for Cortona.  Cortona is the main geographic focus of the book and movie "Under the Tuscan Sun".  I was aware of this town before this book ever came out. As a matter of fact, I found out about the book while I was in Cortona singing opera in the opera house that is situated in the Piazza Signorelli of Cortona.  I was blessed to have been able to sing there two summers in a row.

The walk up.

Santa Margherita

Having vivid and very fond memories if this place, I thought it would be wonderful to take my husband and children to visit this beautiful, sleepy historical hilltop village.  Well, it's still up on that very steep hill, it's still beautiful, but sleepy?  NO.  Unfortunately, after the advent of the movie, that little sleepy town will never be sleepy again, I fear.  But, we did walk up to the top to see the Santa Margerita Chiesa (which was closed!) and we had a wonderful at a restaurant just off the Piazza Signorelli.

Unfortunately, it rained.

The next big trek was to the Coliseum in Rome.  This was a marvel to all of us.  Truly an amazing accomplishment, but one always has the question in the back of one's mind, accomplishment at what cost?


We spent the rest of the week exploring various small towns in the area.  I will give you a pictoral tour with captions, rather than try and describe it all!

Kim ordered clam pasta in Rome.  I have never seen a child love their food THAT much!

A little boy from Germany was at the table next to us.  He obviously was happy to have ANYBODY to talk to besides his parents!  Of course, the fact that they all had iPods in common didn't hurt things.

Duke climbing down the path in Cortona.

The view behind Kim is of the Tuscan valley and part of Cortona.

In true Kim form, she liked the flower above her head and wanted a picture with it.

Keeping himself entertained before dinner.

Keeping herself entertained before dinner.  FYI, that dinner was FANTASTIC!!!!  It was in Sienna.

Can you tell that my allergies decided it was time to make an appearance?  My eyes were a MESS!  But Kimmy sure is cute!

Nothing like a playground to keep the kids entertained!

After our return from Italy, the kids and I spent the week at home doing various activities like sitting by our pool and visiting castles.  Pictures are below!

Kyburg Castle was a great place to take the kids as it was quite interactive, including period clothes for them to try on.  Of course, they were WAY too big for them, but it was fun anyway.  The above picture is the sundial on the outside of the castle wall.  Except for daylight savings time, it was right on the money!

The woodwork was gorgeous.  I could have used a few of those pieces in my house in Hamilton.

Now THAT'S how you make a furnace that adds to the decor!

This castle included not only a chapel but a jail.  Nothing like catering to both ends of the spectrum.

Dress up time!

My knight in shining armor!

Actually, this is more like my knight in shining armor.

Kim am spinnerade. 

The doorways were painted to look like they had woodwork around them.  Seems to be fairly common during this era.

Off they go!

After all that excitement, we needed down time.

Bathing beauty.

Man that sun is bright!

Princess Frog!

Ahhhhhhhhhh...happy hour.  My favorite time of day!

And last but not least, the kids did seem to get along pretty well after spending all that time together.