Kudos to Karolyi

Like many of you, I am sure, I have been in a blue funk the past couple weeks. They left as quickly as they came...

The Olympics are to a Sports fan (like Cameron and me) what Halloween is to 8-year-olds. What sports are on TV? ALL sports are on TV? Who is playing? EVERYONE is playing? What a fantastic two weeks it was. Swimming...great. Although, after the relay, I almost found myself wanting Phelps to win Silver...just so he would appreciate his next Gold a little more. Volleyball...great. Soccer...great. Rhythmic Dancing...not so great (but that is one woman's humble opinion). Gymnastics, although chalked full with scandals and instances of USA getting robbed...great. Field Hockey...great. Yeah, Field Hockey. Am I alone in thinking my whole life that "Field Hockey" was a practical joke? Like the seniors in High School telling freshman that the pool was on the roof in hopes of you falling for it and looking like an idiot. I had always heard about it, but never seen it played. That is, until two weeks ago when I enjoyed my lunch over a match (game?) between Germany and the Netherlands. It was the semi-final and ended six rounds into penalty shots, after two overtime periods...with me on my feet cheering...and thus spilling my All-Natural Ginger Ale.

I knew the Olympics were affecting me, mostly by way of 1) lack of sleep 2) complete obsession and therefore 3) total animosity toward anything non-Olympics. One morning last week I realized my obsession had gone too far when the few hours of sleep I got (USA vs. Spain Basketball kept us up until 3AM) was hindered by the dream I had. Here is the summary…it went something like this: Me, in the IOC's main office, with Alicia Sacramone by my side (read: by my waist), reading the "head honchos" the riot act. Picture me as a less hairy, younger, female, easier to understand Bela Karolyi...easy to do, right? If you do not know who Bela Karolyi is than you were obviously not fist pumping along with us from afar during his interviews with that weasel Bob Costas. In spite of how much we enjoyed The Games, its our opinion that NBC did a putrid job in its coverage of the Olympics. Cameron is still in mourning over the fact that we didn't get to see Tae Kwon Do, Judo, Wrestling, or any of these other martial events.

And now a confession: Over the past few weeks I have developed a sizeable hatred for the Olympic host country. No, it is not racism, per se, because it has nothing to do with the fact that they are Chinese. It does, however, have everything to do with the fact that they are manipulative cheaters who are mean to little girls and need to win, no matter the cost. There I said it.

The Olympics ran me through the full gamut of emotions. One minute I was crying, the next minute I was laughing, one minute I was yelling at the TV…ordering an opposing country’s athlete to “fall on your face!”, and the next minute I would be cheering and celebrating victory with a marital high-five and some fist pumps. Yes, there was much fist pumping happening during “The Games”.

So maybe it is good thing, for my stress levels, not to mention tennis elbow, that the Olympics are over. Although, even as I am acknowledging it being a good thing that the torch is out, in the back of my mind I am still counting down to London. 1,422 days to go...

All I have to hold onto for the next four years is this: there are hundreds, if not thousands, of 12 year-olds out there (4 year-olds in China) who will be spending the next four years, day-in and day-out, training in a gym/pool/field, ruining their family's lives, for their one shot at entertaining me...I mean, winning gold. Oh the beauty of competition.

So now you know what we have been doing for the past three weeks...but what about the last three months, you ask? (Or maybe you did not even notice I was gone).

A load of things have happened. We live in a new place. We live in a newly built house. We have a new puppy. We have The Rocky Mountains out our backdoor. All of these great reasons for not staying on top of the blog.

In an attempt to catch everyone up on our "going-ons", I am going to post some pictures. Consider this my lazy, and slightly conceited, way of making myself feel more important than I really am. In fact, I might even form this blog as a list to further prove my award winning laziness.

1) First stop on the Tour de Butler Summer is a River Trip we took with TJ and Colby. It was a private five day white water rafting trip down the Green and Yampa Rivers. We put in at the Gates of Lodore and, many bruises, sunburns, and mosquito bites later, took out at Dinosaur National Park. Ah, the only place where, not only is it socially acceptable to wear the same clothes for five days straight, but it is expected.

2) Post river trip, because we were finished with our summer travel obligations, we wasted no time in getting a puppy. It took us more than an hour at the puppy adoption facility to decide to welcome the mutt into our lives. We got plenty of looks that read: most people will adopt a kid with less consideration than this. Hey those people: Our caution paid off! Although he was 1) covered “head to claw” with ticks and 2) missing half of his tail, we took him and love him. His name is Mowgli, he is a black lab mix…with what, we do not know, and he hit the ground running….or should I say hiking?

During the breaks between house projects, which have been few and far between, we have taken some pretty amazing hikes. And now, just to change up the pace, an outline format. Been out of school for over four years now and I’ve still got “it”:

I. Hikes

a) Saw Mill – located about an hour west of our humble abode there is an old Saw Milling road that led us back into a beautiful bowl where we went “off path” and took an eight hour hike “Bear Grylls Style”. We went above tree line, hiked in the snow (in July), and stumbled on a herd of Elk.

b) Vulture Peak – this peak has been taunting us since we bought the property. It is out our back door and offers great bird’s eye views of our stomping grounds. This was Mowgli’s first hike which turned out to be a few hours longer and a few hundred feet higher than we expected. Once on top, panoramic views opened up and we were glad we risked life and limb to make it to the top.

c) Cirque Meadows – although it has been eight years now since I lived in Colorado, I do remember August weather. Rain showers in the afternoon, blue skies in the morning, warm, etc. Not the weekend two of Cameron’s brothers came to visit. Constant rain tried its best to hold us down, but, in the end, failed. Horseshoe pits were built, log planters were constructed, and hikes were tackled. After solving the puzzle - that was the hike book’s directions – and making it to the trailhead, we enjoyed an easy but beautiful “jaunt” up to Cirque Meadows.

d) Poudre to Rist – While we haven't exactly submitted applications to take over the helm on Man Vs. Wild, we like to think of ourselves as somewhat competent in “fend for yourself” situations. So, for Colby’s 14th birthday we planned (read: scheduled) a survival day-hike. The only plan we had was to hike from our house to Elizabeth and TJ’s newly purchased property…and in 6 hours. Minimal planning/mapping was done beyond that. We took water, a compass, knives, flint, and an MRE. We made it to Rist canyon…¾ of a mile away from their road, one hour ahead of schedule, and lbs. of wild raspberries heavier. If getting lost…on purpose…were possible, I would do it in a heartbeat.

Back in California the only “seasons” that were of any importance were football and basketball. The phase of our life known as “ignoring the weather” (aka: you don’t know what you got till it’s gone) is now over. Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring are very noticeable now. Fall chores are underway, but with any luck Cameron and I will still have a few summer tricks up our sleeves. If not, and this cold front is the beginning of the end, we will still have some summer memories to hold onto:

The Food Chain

First off, let me apologize for the impromptu hiatus. There, now that we have that out of the way, and my guilty conscience has been mended, we can move on.

The rumors are true, one out of the two parts of the Butler Team has moved. Darn near a month ago Cameron and I packed our SoCal Townhouse (with the much appreciated help of his family) into a 16 ft. "Penske Dream Boat" and headed to Colorado. Many tanks of gas, sweat beads (through AZ we both refused to waste any gas on A/C), and hours past our ETA later...we had arrived.

How is that for symbolism?

Once in Fort Collins, we turned our attention towards stashing all of our worldly belongings in any nook and cranny that was not already occupied. This chore was greatly hindered by our storage unit, that I had reserved a couple weeks previous to the move, being yes 5'X10'...but in a layout suited better for a giraffe stall than furniture and boxes.

Cameron flew back to California to focus on work and I stayed here at Camp McMahan (shout out to their generosity and patience) with a mission to push the house project along in any way possible. And push I did.

Which brings us to "The Top Ten Signs You Have Turned Into A Construction Worker":

1. The people at Home Depot have passed the "Know You By Name" phase and now just ask, "What do you need this time?".

2. In the likely event that you happen to drop something on the ground after 4:00 PM, you mutter under your breath “ah, hell”…shrug…and quickly convince yourself that it will still be there tomorrow and you will pick it up then.

3. When standing from a seated position, it takes a full ten steps to get into the full upright position.

4. Even after you have showered, when you bend down to get something (again, not recommended) you see saw dust fall off of you…then mutter “ah, hell…where did that come from?”.

5. You start using the word “hell” a lot.

6. “Mutter” is the perfect word to explain your mode of communication.

7. You would like to get the dirt out from under your thumb nail but the pain involved (due to the numerous misfires with a Paul Bunyan size hammer) is just not worth the attempt at good hygiene. Wait, wait…no…that might be blood under the nail.

8. There are tan lines on your neck and face that can only be created by wearing a chainsaw helmet…with built in hear muffs and mesh face shield (please refer to the visual aid).

9. You can correctly identify the shoe and the apron…and you know that I am not talking about clothing here.

10. It is Tuesday afternoon at 5:00 and you find yourself drinking a beer with three middle age men (unless of course you are a middle age man in which case this is normal behavior and in no way means you are a construction worker).

In the last month, many family members (most of the female variety) have supplied me with countless warnings about safety (not that the men do not care...because they do...they just have different ways of showing it). So many warnings that I started convincing myself that massive bleeding or death was around every corner. Now, I do not want to come across as careless (as I realize that chainsaws, table saws, grinders, sanders, and the like are all dangerous pieces of equipment) so I thought I would provide the masses (aka, the handful of people who actually read this thing) with some evidence that I am, in fact, the Poster Child of Construction Safety:







As luck would have it, the one time I forgot to strap on the Ol' Safety Glasses, I got mud in my eye. Fantastic.


While most of my time has been spent with my dusty nose to the grindstone, I have had a few opportunities to stop and enjoy some of the sights one might experience up at our new house. I present to you...the food chain at work (a few rungs of the chain might be missing or out of order as not all creatures have been photographed):

The Butler Team will be at full strength this weekend after Cameron drives, yet again, across country...this time for good. Barring any unexpecteed setbacks, we should get our "CO" (Certificate of Occupancy) in about a week and a half.

Home, Sweet Home...almost!

Simply Un-American

Got a new American Express Card with a huge limit and an awesome rate. Yeah, I know, I am a pretty big deal. Not that I use credit cards a lot, I am just in a "who has the best credit score" competition with...well, everyone, I guess. Score update: I am winning. An added bonus is that the card has a really cool holographic blue square on it that, when catching the light the right way, brightens my day. (The picture does not do it justice)

That is where the story starts to go downhill. This afternoon I was pondering what my balance must be on the new C-Card. You know me, I let my fingers do the talking and attempt to log on to their website. In the process of tryin' to register my account, I am told that I have my place of birth wrong and they lock me out of the system. "Weird" I think to myself...actually I said it out loud. Funny, I thought I knew were I was born...and how does American Express know where I was born to tell me I am wrong?

But "The Man" cannot get me down so I call my friends at AEXP (look at me using stock exchange lingo). After spending ten minutes trying to hack into their automated system (oh yes, the secret to getting in is to give your...you guessed it...place of birth), I give up and start hitting "0" over and over again until my little cell phone screen cannot take it anymore. Ah, finally, a human. She started off chipper. She asked me for my name...got that right. She asked me for my account number...got that right. She asked me for my SS number...right again. 100% so far.

Then she asks me for my place of birth to which I respond, "the system must have it wrong because I was born in Fort Collins but it keeps rejecting that answer".

Her: "Oh, okay Ma'am, that is not what I am seeing here."
Me: (thinking, "isn't that what I just said?") but say, "Okay, where does it say I was born?"
Her: "Ma'am, I can't give you that information. Let's try to get in another way. We are going to access PUBLIC RECORDS so the following information is not held here at American Express. Can you tell me the name of a family member that us not listed on the credit card?"

This caught me off guard...can they do that? At the same time, I was trying to be cooperative and could not remember if Cameron is listed on it or not, so I think on my feet and say - "Elizabeth Hughes". Sister...that should work right? The woman puts me on hold for "a moment" and goes to look in my public records in a chore that I imgaine looking like this:

Wrong answer! The lady, getting all judgmental says, "I am sorry, your answers are incorrect and I am going to have to transfer you to our lost and stolen credit card department.". I say, "Uh, what? I got my sister's name AND my place of birth wrong?". Her - "Please hold".

I hold...then get a different chipper lady (although, I sensed that she was a bit guarded and had been forewarned that I was not pleased about flunking a pop-quiz about MYSELF).

She asks me for my place of birth. Are you kidding me? I give her a small piece of my mind. She switches gears...

Then she says that she can change my address now (half way through this whole thing I figured that the balance info was not enough to go through all of this for and wanted to get some other stuff done while I was at it). We change my mailing address and get my balance info. Then....

She asks for my place of birth! I tell her FORT COLLINS.

F_O_R_T - C_O_L_L_I_N_S - C_O_L_O_R_A_D_O

"Okay, Mrs. Butler, I have corrected the spelling and it should work now."

"WHAT? YOU JUST HAD THE SPELLING WRONG????"

"Yes ma'am, is there anything else we can do for you today?"

Believe me, SO many things came to mind that they can do for me today...some involved enrolling back in school, getting a lesson in common sense, and last of all...sticking things places. But, I took the high road (read passive-agressive) and said "pffish, no, that will be all".

Needless to say, I am a bit on edge...who does public records have as my sister?

...or so they say...

"Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt." - Abraham Lincoln

Top three scenes from the past two weeks that support Ol' Abe's theory:

Scene I: Katie is letting Cameron know that she does not need pampering and thus opts for the thinner blanket. And Action.

Katie: "Ah, how is that for being a Post-Madonna?" (trying to use a clever play on words to express my humility)
Cameron: "You know the expression is 'Prima Donna', right?"

No, no I did not.

Katie's expression: "Pre-Madonna"
Correct expression: "Prima Donna"

The term was used to designate the leading female singer in the opera company. Legendarily, these "prima donnas" (prime donne in Italian) were often regarded as egotistical, unreasonable, and irritable, with a rather high opinion of themselves not shared by others.

Makes sense...I guess.

Scene II: Katie is asking Cameron what he wants for dinner. And Action.

Katie: "Oh no, have I said too much...did I tip my hat?"
Cameron: "Wait, what? Do you mean 'Tip Your Hand'?"

Yes, yes I do.

Katie's expression: "Tip Your Hat"
Correct expression: "Tip Your Hand"

Based on the literal meaning of tip or show your cards to intentionally or unintentionally let others see the cards you hold in your hand in a card game.

Makes sense...I guess.

Scene III: Katie and Cameron are playing basketball. As Cameron drives for a lay-up, Katie slaps Cameron on the arm. And Action.

Katie: "Oops, sorry, your ball. I raped you."
Cameron: "Um, you know the expression is 'raked', right?"

No, no I did not.

Katie's expression: "Raped"
Correct expression: "Raked"

Rake - To scrape; scratch. Example: "...when he raked Nash's off-hand as Nash crossed over, forcing a turnover. Replays revealed a clear foul."

Makes sense...I guess. It is a darn good thing I was not much of a smack-talker back in my playing days.

Bonus Footage: Katie is traveling to CO to work on the house. Katie and Cameron keep talking about an item on the to-do list having to do with stone and masonry. And Action.

Katie: "I need to make sure I go by and see Cory about the mantel"
Cameron: "I think it will be important for you to know that you are going to THE QUARRY to look at rock, not to a business owned by a guy named CORY"

That WOULD be good to know.

Katie planned on going to see: Cory
Cameron wanted Katie to go by the: Quarry

Quarry - an excavation or pit, usually open to the air, from which building stone, slate, or the like, is obtained by cutting, blasting, etc.

Makes sense...I guess...but I still think this was an easy mistake. I just wondered why both Cameron and our builder would talk about this guy like he knows everything...

For the reasons outlined above, I have new found respect for this man: "There is an old saying that goes, 'Fool me once...shame on...you, fool me....can't get fooled again" - President Bush

Well, at least I still have these words to live by:

"It is a damn poor mind indeed which can't think of at least two ways to spell any word." - Andrew Jackson

Try using new expressions? No. Never.

Find new and creative ways to spell words? That is still okay...a sign of itelligence in fact.

Does anyone else's respect for Cameron grow with each story I relive?

The last month in 47 words or less...

One Year Anniversary in Santa Barbara...

Paper? No, sand.

Easter at the Courthouse Gardens

Our thanks to "The Herd" for this gift:

Camping in Blythe. Bear Grylls and Les Stroud have nothing on us...

Poor kindling cannot hold us down...

Trip to CO to make final decisions:

For better or for...can it get much worse?

Lessons learned in the past week:
1) That guy on those UPS commercials can draw real good
2) Pasteurized milk causes acne...but Rice Drink is dang tasty
3) The recommendation "try new things" does not apply to me

Let's back up. First of all, although I grew up in Colorado, I do not consider myself a gifted skier (one of my pet peeves: when first meeting a Coloradan, any non-Coloradan will ask them in a perky voice, "oh, do you ski?" in the first 4 minutes...guaranteed). Sure I could blame my lack of natural gliding/sliding talent on basketball coaches forbidding the activity, or the abnormally long length of my femurs, but I will spare you the excuses. Don't get me wrong though, I enjoy a trip to the slopes as much as the next girl...even despite my sub-par abilities. Well, Cameron and I are both here to tell you that if my skiing ability were to be compared to my snowboarding abilities, I would be considered to be at the Olympic Level.

Against my better judgment, for my first ski trip with Cameron, his dad, and his younger brother last weekend, I chose to go away from the safe skis and spring for the snowboard. Note to self: never again try new things....never...stick to what you know...always.


The silver lining of my poor decision is that I found a few things out about myself. For starters, I do not do well with not feeling competent. Secondly, I do not handle repeated falling well. Thirdly, I get a bit testy when people try to offer me advice on how to improve when the simple act of standing is difficult.

It took me about 2 hours on the slopes (I use this term loosely because it was the bunny hill) to snap out of my selfish pity party (greatly assisted by reducing the frequency of bone smashing falls). After that, I had some clarity and realized that when Cameron agreed to "for better or for worse" last year, I doubt he imagined me getting that bad. In retrospect, I think he will back up my decision to never again try anything new. Hopefully this joint choice will allow the "for better" Katie moments to outweigh the "for worse" Katie moments.

Once I was over my tantrum, Cameron and I had a great day. I will admit that it felt odd skiing someplace that 1) I could feel my lungs and 2) had no snow anywhere but on the slopes, but I was able to set aside my snobbery and enjoy the scenery.


Most of our "post bunny hill" day was spent on a gently rolling GREEN that bordered the "big boy" slopes...by way of the "big boy" lift. Note to new snowboarders: never go on the "big boy" lift. Spring Breeze (or whatever the run was called) was not very crowded and offered the right dose of challenge while still keeping me from throwing yet another oh-so-attractive tantrum.



Around about 3:00, after one hard fall in the list of many, I confided in Cameron that if I fell on my "fanny" one more time, I was sure bone would be splitting. So, being the problem solving specialists that we are, we decided to "pull" to the side of the run, have me "drop trou" and then stuff Cameron's coat down the back side of my pants for padding (a chore that took four hands, extreme balance, and an abnormal amount of strength). The comfort on falls from then on was worth the nasty looks we got during the application phase. After 3:00 - aside from the severe pain in my knees, wrists, and hands - falls were much more tolerable.

On to my next beef: the design of the home stretch of the Spring Breeze. Near the end of the run there was a straight away accompanied by a strange right to left slant and a slight uphill. Recipe for disaster. No matter what I did, I could not get "over the hump". Threw a different technique at it every time down the slope...ended up in the bushes and trees each time. My chosen problem solving technique? I would unstrap the board, throw it under my arm, and sprint to try to catch up to Cameron at the lift. This worked well the first couple of times, but for some strange reason, the running distance increased with each passing run. I might have been trying too hard...I don't know. By the end of the day I was running about 150 yards in an attempt to not make Cameron wait for me to try to figure out how to not stall out. For added entertainment, every sprint after 3:00 was slowed by the fact that the snowboard was under one arm and my other arm was grasping the wadded up jacket (forming a huge booty that prevented me from buttoning my pants)...trying to keep me from losing my drawers with every step. To top off the visual, I was wearing a huge gray helmet - to protect my fragile, oh-too-often hit head - that would jiggle down my forehead and start to obstruct my view (no hand available to correct it).

It was during my last 150 yard sprint when I looked up to see Cameron down by the lift watching me and I could only imagine what he had to have been asking himself, "For better or for worse? Till death do us part? Oh man, what did I get myself into?"

Good thing I married a guy who can enjoy life even when his "better half" is acting like a two-year-old.


Well, it has been about a week since our snowboarding trip and just today am I starting to have hope that I have not done irreparable damage to my pelvic bones. My hands have recently stopped shaking any time they have to bear weight. My elbows and knees, which have been a tasteful shade of purple/blue, are starting to look and feel normal. Hey, even my ego seems to be recovering.

Try new things? No. Lesson learned.