The Roar of Bowser

A couple of months ago, I posted this goal on Go Mighty (and here on this blog):

Make a Bowser Costume for My Foster Son Before He Leaves Us in March

To be honest, I had hoped that J, our foster son, would forget the promise to create a Bowser costume. I had no idea how to even start and with limited time in trying to take care of two little ones plus befriend/mentor their very young mother, building a costume seemed impossible. Plus, I was struggling on how to translate the literal image of Bowser into fabric and felt.

As often happens, the deadlock was broken with a simple reminder. One of my quilting friends saw my blog post and dropped a quick email of ideas and advice. “Remember,” she wrote, “imagination can fill in a lot.”

All you parents out there may be shaking your heads by now, but for me, it was a revelation. Duh. I’d seen J use a vacuum attachment as a sword. And in our home, where we did not allow toy guns or even the word “gun”, J had quickly figured out how to build fancy “machines” out of Legos which shot out ice bombs or fire bombs. Imagination….of course.

Armed with that conviction, I sewed and cursed and sewed and finally cobbled together a semblance of a costume. My goal was his birthday in March and with several very late nights plus some hand sewing done in the office on conference calls (shhh), the costume was mostly done.

Unfortunately, between the mother, the grandmother and me, we can’t find any pictures of J in his costume, even though we know that they exist somewhere. Even if I had them, I couldn’t publish them anyway. So without further ado, the components of the Bowser costume:

The front + look at those adorable gloves!

That tail!

Me modeling the hood

It is hard to describe what it feels like when you *make* something and a newly five-year old boy’s  eyes light up with joy. When he throws down his current toy, and immediately shucks off his clothes (that’s not too hard to imagine if you know little boys), struggles into the costume then runs off, tail swinging behind him, with a shout that he’s “GONNA GO SHOW CHRIS!!!!” 

My heart exploded into a million pieces that even now, with the kids happily back with their mother, is not fully put back together.

Pattern:  Simplicity 1765

Materials:  Fleece, more fleece, fiberfill, felt, zipper

Missing:  Fierce arm bands, a spiky shell

Soldiers, Mountains and Grants

Some big news here at Best Day of Life....from my post over at Go Mighty.

We are sometimes not a great judge of what’s possible.- Maggie Mason

Sometimes all it takes is one phrase to jump start something. I know that this is nothing profound – the Go Mighty community are a people who are sensitive to inspiration. A people for whom sometimes all it takes is one second of permission to change something good into something oh-my-God-what-am-I-doing awesome.

The drive to Glenwood Springs

That’s how this goal started. In June 2010, I scribbled my life list in the car on a road trip to Glenwood Springs with my husband. We were spitballing – just throwing things out there like we do – when “climb a fourteener” made the list. It was a safe item – like “get a tattoo” (which I can’t do without risking the wrath of my stodgy transplant team…but we shall see) – because it would  probably never happen.

And then it did. Twice. And actually one more time in September 2012 which will come in a soon-to-be-written post.

Almost at the top of Mt. Democrat

After taking an online course, I looked back at my list. Emboldened by Maggie Mason's suggestion that this be a living list, I crossed of ”climb a fourteener” and changed it to my secret, only discussed with my husband, life list item:  climb ALL the mountains!

And then I hit publish.

Never did I expect that this goal would make the front page of Go Mighty. Nor did I, in a million years, expect it to win a $1,000 grant! The morning I received the announcement email, I sleepily looked at my phone, put it down, rubbed my eyes and then pulled the covers over my head. Overwhelmed.

FRONT PAGE!

So what does one do with a grant for mountain climbing? Bagging local fourteeners, aside from gear (which can either be minimal (and unsafe) at tennis shoes, a Nalgene bottle and your dog or very high tech, all name-brand and fancy), is not a very expensive sport. I am fortunate to have inherited quite a bit of my gear secondhand from a friend who is a sponsored athlete for an outdoor clothing manufacturer.

Standing in a cloud

Well, as it turns out, my next climb is already on deck. And it’s a fundraiser. I am scheduled to participate in the “What’s Your Everest ” climb to on June 1st to benefit Soldiers to the Summit. S2S is a group dedicated to using the mountain climbing experience as a metaphor for soldiers to start rebuilding their lives after physical or emotional injury post-combat. Even though I am not a soldier, the idea is everyone has an “Everest” - those things that seem too big to ever summit. For me, mountain climbing represents the ultimate in what I couldn’t do before and every time I tackle a mountain I have to face and conquer all those heart failure demons as I climb.

We will be tackling Grays Peak  as a group under the expert leadership of several incredible climbers. Grays is typically done as a twofer with its neighbor, Torreys Peak   I hear rumors that there will be a rogue group headed to the saddle to grab them both. I will be among that company if my snail’s pace allows it.

My grant is headed to this amazing organization, earmarked specifically for this  fundraising climb.  By doing so, I will be able to climb with my favorite partner and husband.  We will be alongside men and women who have sacrificed so much for our country and are looking to overcome a real and present barrier – this 14,278 foot mountain.

We may not sometimes be the best judges of what is possible…indeed yes. I am thrilled and honored to be able to join with this team of wounded warriors to break through our own barriers of what we think possible.

The Rest of the Story

The long awaited finish to the first Fourteener(s) saga. Here is part one and part two.

We had started the day at 5:00 am – too late to be considered an “alpine” start but not so late that it wasn’t still early at the summit of Mt. Democrat. As we headed back, climbing gingerly over the iciest damn rocks I have EVER SEEN, we began to mull the concept of actually continuing on. What the what?

No joke, those are what the rocks looked like. It was hard on knees and balance to crawl down the rocks, and nauseous-terrifying for someone who is afraid to walk across an icy flat parking lot.  At one point, my legs just stopped. I waited for a minute with the desperate hope that maybe someone would just pick me up? Just over this rock? Alas, that’s not how mountain climbing works. I dug deep, took a breath and moved. There was slipping and not a few moments where tears were close, but, since I’m sitting in my chair now, I’m assuming that I made it.

We reached the saddle.  Now, Mt. Democrat sits in a trio of 14,000+ mountains. Actually, it sits in a quadrangle, but apparently there are rules about these things. Democrat’s sister mountains are Mt. Lincoln and Mt. Bross.

From this poorly illustrated picture, you can see that you take one trail up to the saddle. Go left and you are on Democrat. Go right and you head on over to Mt. Cameron and then over to Mt. Lincoln and Brosse. Typically, climbers efficiently try to hit all three (official) 14ers in one day.

A few gels and some water later, Mike, Brian and I headed out. Chris (my husband) had sadly twisted his knee and decided to wait this one out.

We had stopped talking at this point. Breathing the frigid air, my only focus was my next step. It gets too overwhelming when you actually stop to think about how far you need to go…and your very inching progress.

Suddenly we were at the top of something. I saw the handwritten sign surrounded by rocks. Hallelujah! My second fourteener of the day. OMG! My second!

As I prepared my high-fives, Brian shared the sad news. Not all fourteeners are official Fourteeners. Again, what the what?  According to Wikipedia, a 14,000+ peak “must have at least 300 feet (91 m) of prominence to qualify.” Mt.Cameron, while a very nice mountain, did not fit the criteria. Alas, we took our pictures and moved on.

Finally, there in the distance was the top of Mt. Lincoln – a tough chunk of rock sticking out of more rocks. A lot of scrambling, some pulling and a boost later and there we were. It was official – three two fourteeners in one day for this transplant. Overwhelming.

There was a brief discussion of trying to bag Mt. Bross, but Mike wisely decided that I probably had enough. Plus, the biggest danger of Colorado 14ers was beginning to loom overhead – the clouds were breaking from ice to storm clouds. We judged it best to hightail it back to the car.

We made it to the bottom. My legs were shivery shaky – I hadn’t sat down once all day. I remembered all the terrible days of my hospitalization – the time I coded, the time I arrested, the emergency surgery and then I looked at my husband and at my feet. Those feet, his heart and this amazing heart had gotten me up and back. I couldn’t wait to do more.

Bowser Therapy

Bowser - just your basic dragon/turtle bad guy with penchant for mohawks and ships.

Bowser - the ubiquitous villain from Nintendo's Mario Brothers game is just your basic bad dragon/turtle hybrid guy. He enjoys roaring, throwing fireballs and most of all, kidnapping Princess Peach who by now I think pretty much digs it as revealed in this hilarious video by College Humor.

Nonethess, when J, our foster son, joined us in October, he had never played video games before. It was our logical first step in the middle of the chaos of being placed with a stranger-to-us 5-year old. We had no toys, books or even a bed, but we did have Wii and Mario Kart.

Turns out, in the aftermath of a traumatic separation, video games provided him the perfect outlet to release frustration and grief. There were tears and yelling – but it was aimed at the game and eventually, with enough determination and grit, he fought his way through levels and began collecting the coveted Mario Galaxy stars.

Along the way, J (who cannot be pictured due to confidentiality issues), developed quite a fondness for Bowser, the ultimate Mario bad guy. Who knows why, but nothing Bowser threw ol’ Mario’s way could dissuade this love. When I jokingly suggested one day that I make him a Bowser costume, the idea stuck. And unlike the suggestions for eating vegetables or drinking milk, this one has been pursued with a vigor that has surprised us all.

So I've added this to my Life Life (it has to be a quick one!) on GoMighty.

Make a Bowser Costume for My Foster Son Before He Leaves Us in March.

So, now it is off to Pinterest, Joann’s and crafting sites to figure out how in God’s name this costume is going come together.

Sewers and crafters, your ideas and suggestions are welcome. In a rare instance to a foster case, this one will have a happy ending and I’d like to send him off with his costume.

Life List #12: Ozark Pudding Cake

One of my Life List goals is to cook my way through an entire cookbook. I've started and stopped this so many times with so many different cookbooks that I almost just nixed it from the list. Clearly, something wasn't working.

Then, on a random whim, I purchased Vintage Cakes by Julie Richardson. I'd seen it on a blog and suddenly I knew, there was my cookbook. I'll be posting the various recipes made from time to time here as well as on Go Mighty.

We shall start with Ozark Pudding Cake.

Please excuse the poor picture quality. Read the post for details.

Thanksgiving 2012.

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. What’s not to love about a day dedicated to my favorite hobby and butter.  But this year was different. This was the year that only five weeks earlier, we became foster parents to two brothers ages 2 and 4.5.


Now, we are not young. We are not old either, but we also don’t have any children of our own. These babes came with nothing but sweatsuits and socks. Still reeling from the shock of readjusting our entire state of being, along comes Thanksgiving, hosted at our house out of sheer sympathy for our new lives.

I foolishly volunteered to do a side dish and dessert. Thanksgiving morning dawned and I realized, I had no lists, no timing plan, and not even a clean house. Underwear was strewn on the basement floor (what is up with that, mothers of boys?) and a barf-filled afghan had been dragged into the yard by our dog from the night before. Great.

Out of desperation, I grabbed my new cookbook, took stock of my ingredients – pears, check! Dried cranberries, yes! Nuts – found buried deep in the freezer, jackpot!

The cake came together quickly (in one bowl!) while my parents were setting out the food they brought. It baked while we ate. We had no ice cream or whipped cream or creme fraiche, but served warm and buttery from the cast iron pan, even the barfy child could not resist. It is neither a traditional cake, nor is it pudding. But it is pure comfort – the pears melting into moist vanilla-y cake spiked with the sweet tartness of cranberries.

Did my luscious but humble cake save Thanksgiving? No, but maybe Thanksgiving doesn’t need saving from mess, noise and the unexpected. It was my parents looking bemusedly on the chaos, my sister and her boyfriend laughing about the “built-in birth control” and the two happy little boys snuggling and playing in the messy house…that’s what Thanksgiving really needs.