To Do and To Go

We approached this summer looking to make up for what feels like the lost time of last summer. This yearning plus the kids' ages plus the related fact that Joshua is no longer in diapers means that we've starting looking at the list of Things We Intend to Do and Places We Intend to Go and then doing and going.

This weekend, we headed to Glenwood Springs for a few days.

The highlight reel:

We were packed up, pulling out of the driveway, when Bryan handed me two sets of Mapquest directions and asked, "Which way do you want to go?"

There is nothing that qualifies me to answer that question when it is in the context of geographical directions.

I said, "Let's see if Mr. Colorado is home"--because he'd mentioned something about going one route that would take us above tree line and that the view was worth the trip.

He was home. He told us which of the two Mapquests would take us the scenic route, called Indepence Pass. It would take us above tree line, to about 12,000 feet, and then back down the ridge on our way to Glenwood.

And scenic, it was.

The whole drive was breath-taking. . . thought-taking, even, as Bryan and I hardly said anything and I, at least, didn't even have a daydream. I just looked and looked and looked. It was incalculable majesty.

We pulled over at the twin lakes reservoir for a picnic at lunch time.

The following photos are from the picnic stop, too, but I've embedded them among the somewhat unseemly stories:

We also pulled over to a generously sized shoulder about 30 seconds after Joshua announced that he had to make potty and couldn't hold it. Bryan hopped out and helped him. A few seconds later, the boys got back in and we were off.

Maybe 40 yards up the road, we saw a blue sign: Point of Interest, 1 Mile.

Bryan said, "Too bad, Josh. You could have whizzed at a Point of Interest."

To my way of thinking, the entire route was a Point of Interest.

In the midst of the grandeur, Gemma announced that she'd finished one DVD on her portable player and would soon start another. I said, "Put that away for a little while, honey. Enjoy the scenery."

She said, "What scenery?"

This became our catch-phrase for the weekend, and probably for life. Bryan or I would look up to see a waterfall crashing down the mountainside and then say, "What scenery?"

And we did make them put the movies down as we made the final ascent past the tree line to the top of the pass. They neither objected nor applauded.

We were just minutes away on the Interstate from our hotel when an electronic sign alerted drivers that a massive accident ahead required an exit at mile 105.

Most of the cars in front of us were getting off at 109, one exit earlier. In fact, the right lane was now crawling because the exit had completely backed up. Due to indecision? Slowness? Concern over the exit traffic? We passed up 109 and then quickly came to a crawl of our own.

You know what we were feeling right then because you've been there yourself. . .

Then, up ahead, a Hummer turned from the left lane, crossed the median strip of grass, and booked on by, now going the opposite direction

Amy: Look at him go. . .

Bryan: Too bad we're not in the Explorer.

(We were in the Volvo sedan, which also has four wheel drive. So. . .it wouldn't be that crazy to try. . .)

Then a pick-up truck did the Hummer move.

Amy: The ditch between lanes doesn't look too steep.

Bryan: You know how embarrassing it would be to get stuck?

Then a Pontiac Firebird did the pick-up move.

Amy: A sedan! Look! That sedan did it!

(All the while, I was thinking there was no way Bryan would make the move. He follows the law, not out of fear of getting caught, so it made no difference that there were no cops around, but because his heart is streaked with a deep, deep respect for rules and regulations. Hence a 20 year military career.)

Then a Toyota Prius did the Firebird move. A Prius!

Amy: Babe! That hybrid just pulled it off!

Maybe Bryan could have slept knowing he'd been bested by a Pontiac Firebird. But the Prius was too much to take as it puttered past us in the opposite direction.

We approached the spot where the other cars had made the U-turn, and we turned it ourselves.

This, happily, put us at the front of the line for the exit at 109, because there were only other law-breakers coming from our new direction.

The exit sent us along a state highway that ran alongside the Interstate, and soon this traffic slowed as well. Bryan said, "We're going Korean on them"--

This is a compliment to Koreans. Kind of. They drove not like maniacs, but like people who were shrewd enough not to be part of a traffic problem. For instance, in Seoul traffic, motorcyclists and drivers of small cars just hopped the curb and drove on the sidewalk. Pedestrians, watch out!

And "going Korean," to Bryan, is not the same as "law breaking."

Bryan stayed on streets. And then cut through a Lowe's parking lot in order to go around the intersection that was now being controlled by a state trooper. Once again we, happily, found ourselves at the head of the crowd.

Our hotel was great. The kids' favorite part was not the indoor, heated pool, but, by a slim margin, the juice dispenser in the dining area. They figured out they could combine cranberry with apple juice into the same glass with just a few touches of buttons. Brilliant!

A quote from each:

At one point, I said, "You can watch a TV show while I'm taking my shower, and then I'll read to you before bedtime. But you can only watch it if you're sitting in bed quietly."

Gemma said, "Dad will police that."

Where did she get that verb?

A different time, I told them, "Please get into your jammies."

Joshua looked at the T-shirt he was wearing, saw that it was clean enough for his standard of nightwear, and said, "All I have to do is take of my shorts, and voila! I'm in my jammies!"

The highlight of Glenwood Springs, for their age, anyway, is the hot springs swimming pool and its water slides. We spent all of Saturday there, taking a break in the afternoon to see Toy Story 3 (Loved it!) and eat dinner before returning for an evening swim.

I've heard of people who find hot springs to be very refreshing, as though they can detect the mineral content of the water.

For me, it just seemed like warm, salty water. But here's the big news about me and that pool: This summer, I have been learning to swim.

Yes. You read that correctly.

Don't get be wrong: I know how not to drown. I can do Ethel Merman strokes that get me from here to there with my face above water the whole time.

But never in my life have I known how to do the freestyle or, associatedly, how to swim for fitness.

This was to be my summer. Why? Mostly, it's because conquering cancer makes me feel like I can do anything, and not being dead right now makes me want to actually do the things I've always thought I'd like to try--like, for instance, learning to swim the real way.

So I've been practicing each day I take the kids to the pool. I asked Bryan for a basic lesson, and I've been asking the various swimmers, life guards and swim coaches I've met at the pool for little pointers here and there. Much the way golfers talk about their game, I think.

A very big day for me was about 2 weeks ago, when I put my face into the water without wearing a nose plug.

Another big day for me was when I swam a 25 meter length of the pool without stopping.

At Glenwood Springs, I swam the 30 meter width of the pool without stopping, and, more importantly, spent more time thinking about the saltiness of the water than about what I was doing, which means that it's becoming more and more automatic for me! What a breakthrough summer for me!

Now, the limitations I work against are much less issues of mechanics and much more issues of endurance. Swimming is hard, hard work. . .

I find it all pretty mysterious, because I can go for an hour on the treadmill at a pretty brisk clip with my heart rate elevated in the cardio zone, but after those 30 meters of swimming, I was sucking wind. Phew!

My goal is to be able to swim 4 lengths of our pool here by the end of the summer. That does not include doing kick-turns.

I know, I know. You've finished this last part about my swimming and my little victories towards learning and you're thinking: What scenery?

But hey--Glenwood Springs. Some swimming action. That's two things off our list.