High Peaks

      Every once in a while, it is necessary to get away and find a change of scenery. The loverly ladies and I made our escape to Canmore during the February break. It was a wonder.

      Elsa and Britta wondered what was going on when three steps into our first stroll around town, the stroller folded up into it's stowing position, with both Elsa and Britta still in it. Actually, Elsa was quite entertained, but Britta was much more aware that something was wrong as her bum began skidding on the ground.

      It was nothing that a warm latte couldn't fix - not for the girls, but it calmed mom's nerves. The Johnston's Canyon walk was no easier, as we arrived amid swarming packs of Eurasian tourists with ice axes clipped to their belts and crampons on their shoes. We made it halfway to the lower falls along a pathway that looked like a hilly speedskating track, and then decided that we loved our children. So, we turned back and went for more coffee. Another victory!

      Coffee is better with food so we found a restaurant filled with bearded men who wore their hair in a bun. Was it run by a religious cult? Maybe, maybe. We had a phenomenal pizza, though. Actually, the bun-wearing bearded hipsters became our gauge of the quality of food in the Canmore restaurants. Many hipsters = great food.

      In addition to the eating, the girls found the pool-side life to be to their liking. All in all is was a great break!

     

Storyteller

I used to listen to radio dramas because my parents loved me enough to banish television from their home. One such radio broadcast presented their weekly drama as a movie for your mind. Well, ladies and gentlemen, tonight it is our distinct pleasure to introduce Britta Grace in her debut performance in the movie for your mind: Found.



Britta reads Found from Joseph Amundrud on Vimeo.

Elsa's First Birthday

     364 days ago, someone was sweating profusely, gripping the hand of their spouse, and breathing raggedly. Whoo-whoo-whoooo. That person was me; my wife was calm and sedate, thanks to the epidural and local anesthetics. Do you think the doctors would give me some of that stuff? No. Not even when they heard that I was going to be a father again.


     They say that women go through unbelievable pain in childbirth. I'm not contesting that- so ladies, move the cursor away from the "unsubscribe" button- but men go through a kind of pain of their own. Ours is endured mostly in silence: rubbing the sleep from our eyes to get the nursing pillow at 2:13am, and again 42 minutes later, changing diapers containing something we know that baby didn't eat, and holding our wives when their hormones swing into "furious".

     It's difficult to measure the lifespan of one wonder in mere minutes, hours, days, months totaling one year. The journey from newborn bundle in swaddling wraps, to the stage I can only describe as bobble-head, to grabsy-handsy, to a semi-upright homo-sapien with the beginnings of language. "Hiiiiiiiiiiiii." Yes, a pleasant hello to you, too.

     I forgot the one pain that fathers feel most acutely - the enormous burst of pride and awe in their daughter, which never dissipates or abates. I love you, Elsa, my little girl.