So let me tell you about the transition. My last day at the old job was Wednesday February 25th, which meant I had an effective four-day weekend before jumping in to the new gig on Monday. Lauren and I had one of the best mini-vacations in our history. She had to work Friday AM so we didn't hit the road until around noon, but by 1:30 we (Lauren, I, and McKinley) were unpacking our bags up at her family's cabin in Garden Valley. The weather that day, in that valley, was immaculate. Temperatures pushed 55-degrees F and there was a good layer of snow remaining from the storm a few days prior. the snow was incandescent under blazing sunlight and skies without a single cloud. We decided to run up the Middle Fork road to sit in some hot springs a few miles up. We drove as far as the snowmobile parking lot and packed some criticals into a camelbak and started running. Awesome.
We underestimated two things: the distance we would have to run and the glacial temperatures of the river we had to ford to reach the springs. The run was no problem; it was in fact exhilarating to be running in the sunshine and clean air. The water temp, however, was blindingly painful. Excruciating. But also empowering. Facing such a pure stimulus, in this case the inescapable pain of 33-degree water up to your knees, presents two options: deal with it or don't. Get across the river and receive the prize of six cascading pools brimming with hot water... or panic and head back to shore, cram your frozen toes into your running shoes and run the three miles back down to your car on blunt tree-trunks for legs.
We pushed on. Foot placement was critical since your bare, tingling soles were interfacing with riverbed rocks of all shapes and sharpness. I was on a mission and it still took almost two minutes to reach the other side. I looked back, expecting to see Lauren right behind, but immediately felt like a failed husband when I saw she'd climbed up onto a rock mid-stream and was on the verge of tears. What followed was a combination of positive goading and "for-your-own-good" shouting, I was trying to keep her from turning around and heading for the car. She was angry and a bit scared, but made it across with some help. Our dog was with us and barking like mad, sensing the charged emotion and also trying to warm herself up after having to cross the river herself. At about that time, my camera died, which is probably for the better since you readers would prefer not to see L and I naked (McKinley was naked too, but of course she's a dog and is always naked so is it worth mentioning?).
We soaked for about forty minutes before crossing the river again and running back down to the car. Had the ambient temperature been cooler such a river crossing, so far from the car, would have been not only painful but downright stupid and risky. But 55-degrees meant it truly was mind-over-matter. During our little soak the dog was going nutty... I'm sure some basic survival instinct in her walnut-sized brain was short-circuiting, wondering why on earth we'd be stripping down nudie to get into the water when there were ice chunks and snow all around. She stood at the edge of our pool barking and whining until Lauren managed to grab her around the neck and drag her in with us. I wish I had a picture of her expression. "OK, I'll be damned, this feels goooood." She bellied right down and sat beside us in our little pool. The trip back across the river was much better all the way around. I held Lauren's hand and we guided each other step by step. On the other bank I unfolded a towel onto the snow, and we stepped onto it in turn to dry our toes and put our running shoes back on. The run back down the road had our feet warm in no time.
We were exhausted that evening from the run and the general stress of such temperature fluctuation. I made some beans and rice and baked potatoes and we cuddled up to watch the classic Singin' in the Rain. If you have not watched the movie, you must. Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds are grand, but Donald O' Conner steals the show. Those old classics are so pure and innocent.
The next day was all about skiing up at Tamarack near McCall, Idaho. Downhill skiing, at that! I've downhill skiied twice in my life, the last time was 1994 on a youth-group Church trip. Suffice to say I was a bit nervous, not about crashing as much as holding Lauren back from her adventures on the more advanced slopes. Lauren scored a family season pass by winning the Idaho State mountain bike championship last summer (she rocked it) which was held at the Tamarack Resort. ---> Side story: In order to claim ourselves as a family at the Tamarack ticket desk, we had to fabricate a daughter. So if you somehow hear that we are parents to a five-year-old girl named McKayla Elizabeth, you now know the truth, heh heh ---> Well it happened to work out perfectly; Lauren was more concerned about spending the day with me doing the sport she loves than getting in her own runs, and I miraculously found myself skiing pretty darn well for my first day (if I'm allowed to tout a little), mostly due to L's patient instruction. I had one major wipe-out really ring my bell, but it wasn't severe enough to chase me away. I loved seeing Lauren ski, and in some twisted way it felt good (for both of us) that she is ludicrously better than I am. Immensely better, she is amazing.
We ate dinner that night at a steak house there in Garden Valley, and like suckers neither one of us ordered a steak so no surprise the food wasn't all that great. Ordering a Cobb salad at a steak house is asking for trouble, akin to ordering root beer at a brewery, but I couldn't resist... the plastic cheese and crudely-sliced lunch meat topped a handful of romaine squares that'd seen better days. Regardless it hit the spot and we both slept well that night. We popped our eyes open the next morning, took a brief walk up the road, cleaned the cabin and headed back in to Boise. I spent the remainder of the day tying up lose ends and preparing for my new job, while Lauren dug in to her mountain of class work and lesson plans.
I feel like I should state something about my new job but I suspect this is pushing the readability limit already since I have rambled on about the weekend. I will save it for the next entry. In the meantime you can check out my new company here. Thanks for tuning in and swing in again soon for a blow-by-blow of my first real engineering job.
