robot + girl scouts= love + peace

tricky tricky

so, here it is the denver tarbell's do halloween.  the best part about getting older is you get to celebrate halloween all weekend long.

in case it is not self-explanatory, i was a girl scout and brandon was a robot. we also hung out with chaz from the royal tenabuams (gary), little boo peep (caeli), your high school shop teacher (blayne), and a dad/tourist (erik). 

zombieland

"hey, what did you do last night?"

"oh you know, church, run, drizzle fake blood all over me and act like a brain eating zombie with thousands of people on 16th street mall. . . you know the usual."

check it out, people actually organize to do this. and people think zombies have no sense. 

http://www.denverpost.com/breakingnews/ci_13635273

http://www.flickr.com/groups/zombiecrawl

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t5LLhWF10Zs

the house that grandpa built

kids remember the oddest details from their childhood. sometimes its not the big vacations or the best christmas present, but their favorite sandwich and that pair of pants they refused to take off except for when sleeping. i will always remember my grandpa's house. it was the setting for our entire relationship. somehow the memories of him outside of that house all fade into one, but the ones at his house each have a distinct flavor and color.

it was grandpa's house that i discovered the smell of saw dust in his workshop 

it was grandpa's house that i learned carpet can go on walls 

it was grandpa's house that made you want a garage full of wooden toys

it was grandpa's house that made me think i had a secret garden of flowers, peaches and squash

it was grandpa's house that always had treats in jars on counters

it was grandpa's house where the family got together

it was grandpa's house where i learned about prison camp and visualized the taste of mangoes 

it was grandpa's house where i learned to hula hoop

it was grandpa's house where he teased me about not being able to keep my two feet still

it was grandpa's house that i would call each week so we could chat

it was grandpa's house where we met george

it was grandpa's house where my mother became an angel

it was grandpa's house that he stayed in till the end 

it was grandpa's house where we had our last goodbye

it was grandpa's house where the world lost one good man, but inspired many more

some relationships only seem to take place in one setting, making that place a part of them to you. a house is a home and contains a history of a life. grandpa's house will always be special because it embodied everything that we love about grandpa. 

 

glamour shots

stud

Grandpa Kelly Davis.

(my favorite picture of him)

the hero gets another year

Originally uploaded by jared

one day when i was in the third grade, my mom was out of town and my dad was left to the task of getting me ready and taking me to school. a rare and exciting adventure. we managed to make it out the door in a timely manner. as dad came up to the drop off spot, it was at that time he had the chance to really observe what i was wearing. third grade being about the time my spark in all things sports and soccer was initiated, i was wearing my brand new adidas bright red warm up jacket with classic white stripping my front and my name embroidered in the corner, in accompaniment to the jacket were dark maroon spandex and a cream t-shirt. in an inquiring tone, dad says, "Don't you think you are clashing a little bit?" In mid-leap out of the car, i stopped tilted my head and asked him what he meant by "clashing". Dad then proceeded to explain to me in a clear and concise manner what clashing meant. i nodded to show comprehension, then after a brief pause, i smiled and continued to bound onward to school still satisfied with my color combination.
it is there you see the difference between mom and dad. while mom would force me to change or explain the proper social standard (inwhich i am grateful as well), dad used the situation to teach a concept, after which i was left to continue making decisions on my own colorful path, both of us simply satisfied with the exchange of knowledge and efficiency of our relationship.

a man who acquires and maintains respect, love, trust and a sense of humor is special. dad is special and i am lucky.

happy birthday william walter tarbell

fine hinesight

as i look back. 

thursday: i ran, worked for 4 hours, went to the temple, went to a movie, bought stuff, made brownies with friends and went to bed late. and this is normal. 

i am not quite sure what i am going to do when i have to get a real job schedule. 

do it just

i am a solo runner and i make no apologies for it. i actually enjoy running. if i could run from place to place i would. i have ran around the world and over again. running keeps everything working right inside.

but there are times when it is simply better to run with others. i was lucky enough to get to run a relay with a couple of these great guys. the rest ran the distant, seperate but together. a each an accomplishment of their own. luckily, friendship doesn't end with races.

Denver Marathon 2009.

nice work Team AIR, winning the race against homelessness and addiction.

check out what they do: http://www.theairfoundation.org/

a long ago poem

Dan the man from the moon

We went climbing

He cooked fish

I laid my head on his lap

We watched acl

I went home

I threw up

It could be love. 

sometimes it's good to post nice memories and silly writings. 

failed hippie

i have a good friend clifford, who refers to me as a neo-hippie. upon hearing the title, i instantly took to it.  i have a deep desire to live in a hut in the middle of nature, i juice vegetables, i hate showering, i sew my own clothes, my deepest fear is that my kid will want to wear abercrombie their whole life, and i have lived in a van for a month. however, i love gadgets, large impressive construction sites, and cool whip.  so neo-hippie works well.

embracing the hippie version, i decided this was the year i was finally going to be able to grow a garden. i went to the nursery, bought everything the guy told me to and went home ready to plant. what i planned to be an efficient, nurturing process with mother nature, turned into the community after-school activity, as a multitude of neighborhood kids descended on me and my helpless saplings like locusts. with my broken spangelish and maria as my translator, myself and 8 neighborhood kids managed to stick all the little plants in the ground. (i stay "stick", because they went in but it was not "planting". it was more like strangle and plunge.)  then i sat and waited. then hail pounded down, the squirrels picked, the yard collected trash, my neighbors tree grew and my garden sunk deeper into its hole of failure every day. now as i come home each day i am forced to look at the graveyard that was once my future garden and curse.

however, one glorious  day i came home and saw it. one lone tomato hidden under a branch. (see picture above) i had to pick it before, either squirrel, flash flood, or noisy neighbor stole it. 

so you are probably asking what i am going to do with this pathetic looking piece of produce. you know what i am going to do, i am going to eat it. i am going to slice it up, sprinkle some salt and relish every last unripe bite. 

failure may not feel good, but doing something out of spite tastes sweet. 

squirrel transitional housing

Squirrel Transitional Housing Unit

Free| Studio Loft | Whitter Historic Neighborhood

Features:

5 metal jump posts

extended iron walkway ramp

large wooden balcony

recycled building materials for those eco-concious folk

artist arched doorway

great view 

plenty of room for food storage

insulated heating

wood floors

close to downtown

i am sure upon reading the title, you thought i was trying to random or funny to attract attention. oh no, brace yourself, it's true this post is in all seriousness about squirrel transitional housing. 

upon brandon and i moving into his recently purchased new home, we realized there were already current tenants. a large, fully functioning squirrel community. our roof rafters were their highway system.  aidan was actually particularly happy to be the welcoming crew and possibly their assassin. he could and does spend whole days, watching and attacking the squirrels. but poor aidan grew up with lazy, timid suburban squirrels. he has now met his match with city squirrels. these squirrels have no fear and least of all boundaries. they will get get 5 feet from aidan, dangle from a branch and squeak.  

now there have been enough factors to fix in the house to distract us from the squirrel issue but as winter approaches it has been decided the problem must be solved. 

a beebee gun is an obvious solution, so is plugging up the entry ways. but brandon, who beat and tortured me up with no mercy as a child, has recently become a squirrel humanitarian/activist. he decided that instead of just kicking them out, he would build them a home, conveniently located a few feet from their current one, so as not to leave the squirrels wondering and displaced around the neighborhood.  so brandon spent a whole afternoon and created the above squirrel transitional housing unit, which coincidentally is not the only transitional housing unit in our neighborhood.

now, stay tune to see my post about the wasp hive. . .

360 degree view

this is how i labor day. 

i cast the first stone

so i have decided to postpone my trip to the land of wonder and exotic (africa) or as my mother refers to it the dark, scary continent in which i will never return from. there are a lot of variables that come into play with a decision. sometimes it is combination of smaller ones and the possibilities of others that seem to play the greatest effect. africa is there and my feelings for it have not changed. so stay tuned to see what happens. 

family glue

the day began in an extended sprint, the clouds were hanging but warmth hovered in the air.  work passed in a zoom as requests came in and out. my mouth was moving and fingers typed but moments my mind whirled. i hopped on my two wheels and pedaled past textures and colors that have become the norm. upon arrival, i was greeted with a tail waggin' but no one more.  i casually tossed my yoke and was headed to continuing the routine, until i spied.  there on the flat, oak table was a nondescript package with my very name. i looked around so as to not jinx the discovery. i picked up, turned over, looked around and then proceeded to tear open. layer by layer, sweet words and delicate details roused my anticipation and kindled my emotions. till finally, underneath a thin coating of tissue appeared butterfly wings and rings of silver. lucky me, i not only received a sentimental, elegantly crafted piece of body ornament but a new sister who i think shares a part of my very soul.

a love letter

Dear Mike Rowe-

Though my heart is intended for someone else and you have a girlfriend of 11 years, I just want you to know that I love you. I love when you wear Dickies, I love when you show your upper white man thigh, I love your dry wit.  I can accept the fact that you make the occasional bad car commercials because I think you may be the perfect man. So if our circumstances change, then maybe we can get dirty. 

Love,

Kyra

what goes down, once went up

so here it is the classic "i hiked a mountain" pictures. i probably have more of these than anyone cares to see and until i can reach the quality national geographic seeks i am forced to simply subject them to those who read my blog. these ones are from the most recently hiked 14er, there are a few other camping trip/climbing/hiking pictures that i have yet to post.

the funny thing about this most recent hike is that i went with the executive secretary from my ward. now, you are probably thinking, oh since you are in a singles ward this must have been a date with a strapping young man. and you would be wrong. in fact, the most active, interesting and enjoyable male in my ward happens to be mid-50's, gray hair, and married with children my age. from the first few weeks of being in the ward, it quickly became apparent that Wes and i were going to be friends. he liked my skirt i made out of ties, i liked to hear about his stories climbing exotic peaks, he complimented me on my diverse bio printed in the ward newsletter, i like that he takes off his clogs during sacrament.  so when Wes called and invited me to go hike with him and his two boys, i naturally said yes and a great time was had by all. Wes also proved that any age you can still be a humble bad ass. 

if you explore nature you know all the struggle and personal revelation, physically and emotionally, that goes along with the experience. i have stories i will attempt to share some day but for now, i will simply say, 

"climb the mountains and get their good tidings: let nature's peace flow into you like the warmth of sun rays, let winds blow their freshness into you, let storms transmit their energy, and let the view envelop you, and then let your cares drop off like autumn leaves for in wilderness is the preservation of the world."

festival of writing

so, the problem with starting a blog is that all your thoughts start to process like a blog feed. as i begin to ponder, i start reconstructing my thoughts and sentences into a format conducive to creating the maximum level of flow and cleverness for the reader.  thus my brain gets something resembling  writer's block and my morning runs normally filled with free flowing thoughts have become stunted and out of shape. even worse, when i actually get to the computer to write down all these witty and deep carefully constructed reflections, my brain goes blank and i sit staring at my computer, switching up my pandora stations in hopes that music will inspire my hindered emotional authorship.  so good music or not, i have resigned myself to just punch out a couple of lingering posts and walk away, in rational denial of being satisfied. so here is a short series of posts. 

also you may want to look below you might be delighted to see some lovely pictures added in. 

amigo

today as i came out of the Maison de Seigneur i saw two teenage girls, standing in front of the fountain, assuming the typical-girl-taking-photo-position, faces together, hand extended with camera in hand, big smiles. though the scene was typical the girls made a little piece of my heart swell. 

lisa, i miss you.   

elpmis.

i believe the world could survive on simple, with a touch of grand.

tonight at the mission, i was worthy enough to have the job of the "clicker". though the task is seemingly menial it holds great significance. it means that mr. kim trusts you and you alone to hold the magical tool that allows people to enter and partake of a warm meal. mr. kim believes it takes a strong hand and conservative actions. i, on the other hand, stay true to myself and don't use either technique. instead there is a lot of smiling, hugs, honest interaction and bursts of activity.  usually the job involves the "clicker" taking a wrapped fork from the basket, clicking the counter, and allowing people in 5 at a time.  tonight, however, a significant component was missing- forks. so instead, after a bit of waiting, someone would dump a pile forks and napkins in my basket, leaving me to play catch up. in my frantic rush to get hungry, patient people in, i would grab a stack of each, balance them in my arms and try to put one and one together and hand them to the person in a semi appealing manner. about half the time i failed, with forks and ripped napkins dangling from my arms, i was laughing and trying to not drop the group, while still welcoming each person. sometime in the middle of the chaos, a tall man with a gentle smile and worn out hat, just patted my shoulder as he walked through, half shaking his head and said, "it's nice to see such a happy smile, you are doing a good job."

simple, with a touch of grand.

i am a survivor

last night after a very long week and even longer day, i decided to pick up a film at red box for brandon and i to watch. i picked up the film and  went inside the house in full of anticipation of turning off my brain and indulging in a little cinematic delight. yet, when i opened up the dvd case and i was horrified to find that the dvd inside was actually "p.s. i love you" not the movie i had choosen. now the real blow wasn't really the fact that i couldn't watch the movie, but the fact i rented the same movie as someone who watches movies like "p.s i love you". however, after i recovered from the shock, i quickly gathered my poor grad student wits and looked for retribution for the $1 i spent. ( thrifty or cheap?) i looked on the redbox website under the FAQ "What do I do if the wrong dvd is in the movie case?" This is what it says:

"Please contact our Customer Service Group at 1.866.REDBOX3. All Redbox customer service reps have personally been through our proprietary Rental Trauma Simulator and know what it's like to have a scratched disc ruin the last 20 minutes of a film or to open one case and find another movie instead. They will resolve your issue. Please note that Redbox cannot refund charges that are older than 90 days. " 

I called the redbox hotline and dramatically told jermaine, " I am traumatized." After about 30 minutes on hold, Jermaine who may be trained in rental trauma but obviously not in how to work the redbox computer system, gave me a free promo code. now thanks to jermaine, i am now able to live a fulfilling life as a redbox post-traumatic dvd rental veteran. bless america.

loser's find

the following items were found in my front yard over the weekend:

 half a plastic olive green hanger

 a miniature red pagoda

bimbo wrapper

my bike kickstand

a stretched out wire

firework remnants

standard plastic Safeway shopping bag

a decapitated doll

a plastic plate

this is how it is in our neighborhood. i wake up, go outside for my run, spot trash, shake my head (at first in disbelief now out of habit), return home, let aidan out, pick up trash, begin day, wake up the next day, repeat. 

last night i was a Thundercat

it was glorious. i felt as if i possessed powers given to me from an unknown source. but what good is a Thundercat without his posse. and a posse i had. as the moonlight classic brought us together, it also fought to tear us apart. but thanks to the call shouted from our short short wearing leader, in the darkness of the night filled with bikes, lights, helmets and bars, we were able to come together in strength, as nothing less than The Thundercats. We may not have conquered the course and in the end some were lost but our original crew held on long till the end, helping us to truly understand what it is to be a Thundercat.

so in the night when you hear the words, "Sword of omen, give me strength beyond strength", your proper response is, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

for those of you who don't understand. we rode the moonlight classic last weekend and we decided to name and locate our rowdy group of 16 by using the Thundercat call. others were just as jealous as you are reading this, i am sure.