A Utah Family Travel Writer's Adventures with Altitude
My wonderful friends send me pretty much every pumpkin-related joke, picture or recipe they can find.
But this one from my friend Stacey takes the cake.
Or rather, the pie.
The caption: How pumpkin pies are made.
Don’t kill the messenger.
An important General Conference tradition (in addition to listening to our church leaders via sattelite) is the food that accompanies it.
At least that was the case until Jamie’s parents moved to Utah and our Sunday-morning breakfast tradition of blueberry muffins, sausage and eggs was dead.
That is why I was thrilled when my friend Eva asked if her family of eight could watch at our place. In return for offering up our TV, she brought fruit, cinnamon buns, sausage, bacon and juice.
Can you say no-brainer?
I threw in some homemade caramel applesauce, an apple tart, eggs and pumpkin oatmeal chocolate chip cookies so we had quite the feast.
Jamie, the kids and I snacked all day. By dinnertime, I desperately wanted something light and healthy so opted to serve yogurt parfaits. I made granola for the first time, chopped strawberries and blueberries and let the children build their parfaits with their favorite yogurt.
They both loved it and couldn’t believe *this* was dinner.
As Hadley was polishing off her final bites, she exclaimed:
“Huh.”
“What, Hadley?” I queried.
“I just thought it was your job to make dinner I don’t like.”
Sad thing is she meant it as a compliment.
The Party
October has kicked off in typical Canuck fashion: chaos. On Wednesday, I hosted a Mile High Mamas party at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science to showcase their new Amazon exhibit.
The Trip
Thursday and Friday, I flew to California courtesy of Nintendo for a focus group with some of their other ambassadors. While there, we got to preview Wii Party, a board-game-esque with over 80 hilarious mini-games. It’s such a hoot that I’ve resolved to buy two extra Wii remotes so our entire family can play it. I’m sure Bode will be first in line.
Well, except it doesn’t involve his beloved Mario.
(The ladies in attendance: Amber from Nintendo, Gwen Bell, me, Janet, Marsha, Sizzle, Denise, Julie, Tracey Clark, Justine, Nintendo staff.)
The Pumpkin
I arrived home around midnight on Friday and Saturday was the weigh-off for pumpkin #2. As much fun as it was to hang out in the hot sun for four hours last weekend, I told Jamie to call us when his pumpkin was close to being weighed. He did just that 45 minute prior so I loaded up the troops and headed way up north.
I underestimated the amount of time it would take to get there and that Jamie would actually have gas in his car (he had borrowed my SUV to haul the pumpkin).
Here’s the thing about my dearly beloved: the man enjoys driving with only 1/4 of a tank of gas. It literally drives me nuts whenever I borrow his car because I have to waste time to get gas.
Only this time, there was no time.
Jamie called when we were an hour into our drive and close to nowhere.
“Where are you? My pumpkin is about to be weighed”
“Stall them. We’re not close and I have to stop for gas.”
“If you stop for gas, you’ll miss the whole thing.”
Then panic set in. I was driving unfamiliar roads and Jamie had to talk me through the process. I had already showed the children my below-empty gauge and told them to say a little prayer so we wouldn’t run out of gas.
If it worked for the loaves and fishes, it could work for multiplying the properties of petroleum.
Bode started freaking out, chanting “GAS STATION GAS STATION” over and over.
We arrived (barely running on gas fumes) just as Jamie’s pumpkin was being loaded up. We raced out of the car, all the while muttering about the nightmare it was to get there. Who on earth would live in this forsaken place?
Amy of Crunchy Domestic Goddess, that’s who.
She lives just down the road, saw the sign for the giant pumpkin weigh-off and figured I would probably be there.
Sad but very true.
In the end, Jamie’s second pumpkin weighed in at a respectable 868 pounds and his buddy Pete set a new Colorado state record: 1,306 lbs.
Both impressive but not nearly as exciting as the build-up to get there.
Saturday was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
Jamie had high hopes for this season and at one point, his pumpkin, “Redemption Boy,” was on track to weigh 1,100 pounds.
Until its growth started tanking in September.
In the end, Jamie hoped to just break 1,000 pounds, which would have been very possible because it was measuring out to weigh around 955 pounds.
In giant-pumpkin growing, pumpkins can either go “light” or “heavy” in either direction. It is impossible to know which way it will skew until it finally hits the scales.
Jared’s Nursery hosts the weigh-off and has beefed up the event to also include a Fall Festival with goodies such as a haunted house, obstacle course, s’mores, food and face painting.
Jamie is part of the Rocky Mountain Giant Vegetable Growers Group that organizes the event. In addition to giant pumpkins, there were also pears, watermelon and squash so freakishly large you’d swear you had been plunked onto the set of Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.
Anticipation was high when it was time for Jamie’s pumpkin to get weighed in.
Well, for some of us. In Bode’s defense, Super Mario passes the time when you’re stuck in the hot sun for four hours.
Like a nervous new papa, Jamie watched as they loaded up his pumpkin and placed it on the Biggest Loser-esque scale.
Only on this scale, you want big numbers.
Unfortunately for Jamie, he didn’t get them. His pumpkin went 16% light and only weighed in at 820 pounds.
This is still impressive and his personal best but he was visibly disappointed his pumpkin did not break 1,000 pounds. However, he still has another pumpkin to be weighed at yet another competition this weekend.
Such is my life during the fall.
The kids entered their pumpkin as well. Shockingly,their 208.5-pound pumpkin not only won but it set a new Colorado state record in the children’s division.
Bode was busy scoring five goals (!) at his soccer game so Hadley was their sole representative. However a few minutes prior to the awards ceremony, her upper left leg got stung by a bee rendering her incapable of walking. Or so she thought.
When her name was called, Hadley dramatically limped to the stage, further augmenting the cheers as I’m sure people thought “How amazing that little invalid girl grew that big pumpkin!” She even forced a smile. She is, after all, a crowd-pleaser.
And I may-or-may-not have threatened her to do so.
What prizes did the kids win for such an accomplishment?
A membership into the Rocky Mountain Giant Vegetable Growers Group and a bag of fertilizer. Oh, and a club T-shirt that should have read:
I won the state title and all I got was some cow dung and this crappy T-shirt.
If you hate pumpkins, do not return to this blog until after October. Wait. Even after all the pumpkin parties and the weigh-offs, there is fall soil prep, winter seed obsession and it starts all over again with spring planting.
If you don’t like pumpkins, you simply will not like this blog.
Or cool chicks who spray-paint orange streaks in their hair for the festivities.
It has been a whirlwind week of pumpkins and more pumpkins that is best documented in pictures.
Friday was our 2nd Annual Big Pumpkin Party.
When my blogging bud JoAnn told someone she was going to a big pumpkin party, her friend commented it sounded like a huge crowd.
“No,” she replied. “I mean a BIG PUMPKIN party.”
And that it was.
But it was also big as in “a whole lotta people in attendance.” We estimate we had around 80-100 people stop by.
This year, I requested that guests bring their favorite pumpkin treat and lo did they deliver.
We had pumpkin gingerbread trifle, cakes, fudge, pies, crisp, ice cream, cookies and the crowd favorite: pumpkin egg rolls.
In addition to eating Everything Pumpkin, the itinerary at a Big Pumpkin Party consisted of cutting the pumpkins off the vine and hauling them. We started with Haddie and Bode’s pumpkin.
Next was the bigger challenge: Redemption Boy. And yes, Jamie names his pumpkins. This nomenclature was in reference to his pumpkin that got wiped out last year by the tornado.
He grows his giants on the property behind our house. Our neighbor has a forklift and that is exactly what was needed to haul this beast. First item of business: putting on the lifting straps.
Next, they hooked it up to the forklift. Special thanks to our friend Andy for saving Jamie’s life by driving.
(Jamie somehow thought he could operate it after a mere 5-minute lesson. Cough, cough)
Once it was successfully hooked up, Jamie checked the bottom of the pumpkin for any cracks that would disqualify it from competition. Believe it or not, people cheat by injecting water to increase the weight.
Once he gave it the thumbs-up, the crowd erupted into cheers. Actually, the highlight of the entire evening for me (besides all the pumpkin food) was seeing how enraptured everyone was by the process.
Except for Bode. My shy little guy was overwhelmed by all the people and kept begging me to go home and watch Wipeout. When the ceremony was completed, I let him do it with the promise that he would imagine the big balls as big pumpkins.
If you’ve never watched Wipeout, you will have no idea what that means.
Even the media made an appearance at the Big Pumpkin Party to interview Jamie.
I’ll be sure to include that link once it is published. He was also interviewed by the Mormon Times. I was responsible for pitching the story to both publications.
Just call me the Pumpkin’s Publicist.
Though as the event wound down, my neighbor Keith christened me, “The First Lady of the Pumpkin.”
Though no one will ever come close to being The Lord of the Gourds.
Stay tuned for the disappointments and triumphs of the big weigh-off.
My sister-in-law Jane emailed me to say she logged onto my blog this morning to find out the details on The Great Pumpkin’s final weight.
(As a side note, I will post this information just as soon as I have a minute. I’ve been kinda busy with pumpkin parties, weigh-offs and in-laws).
Anyhew, for the first time, she was blocked by her work’s web administration. The message she received:
This site has been blocked by digital security because classified under the P*ornography category.
Consider yourselves warned.
Because it the most important week of the year for the Canuck Clan, everything is falling apart at the seams.
Bode has been battling a cough and stuffy nose and Hadley woke up yesterday with a sore throat.
This is all in time for the pumpkin festivities this weekend and the Cavalia preview tonight. This equestrian counterpart to the Cirque du Soleil is THE must-attend-event of the fall.
And we may not be attending it.
We put the kids to bed early last night and hoped to let them sleep a bit later so they could stay out tonight. Fat Kitty had another plan when he woke Hadley up at 6 a.m., who then returned the favor to Bode.
Fat Kitty is in the doghouse.
Not exactly a good place for a cat to be.
I am battling killer allergies, exhaustion and what I hope will not be the start of a cold so I kept Bode home from preschool with me. Activities are limited when sick and unmotivated so I let him watch back-to-back episodes on TV. After three, I cut him off.
“Mommy, I want to watch more.”
“You’ve already watched too many.”
“I only watched one!”
“You watched THREE.” (And proceeded to list them off.)
“Dat’s not too many.”
“Oh really? So what is?”
“100.”
It’s going to be a long day.
I’m usually a busy gal but the next two weeks, I’ll be drowning. Last week, I barely survived a gubernatorial forum I helped coordinate (details at Mile High Mamas today)
(Some of my fellow bloggers and me hanging out with Dan Maes, Republican candidate for governor.)
Tomorrow, my in-laws are coming into town for a week. The reason? It’s the big Pumpkin Party on Friday and weigh-off on Saturday. I’m doing a contest at Mile High Mamas: guess the Great Pumpkin’s weight. The closest person will win 10 tickets to Elitch Garden’s Fright Fest. If you’re not local, I have a $25 Target gift card up for grabs.
It’s taking a lot of self-control not to use that one for myself.
Add the pumpkin chaos to that fact we’ll be juggling both kids’ soccer games, preview night at acclaimed Cavalia, a quickie trip to California next week and oh, did I mention my in-laws are in town?
Good times!
I still haven’t had time to address my Asian spammer problem in my comment section so that still remains temporarily closed. Facebook has provided a fabulous avenue for friend/reader feedback but little did I know, last week would produce a doozy by my simple status update:
Seem like a (un)reasonable question, right? Let me clarify something for those of you who are poisoning this world with your incorrect practices.
The right way:
The wrong way:
Read the responses it solicited.
-Aubrey yes. haha.
- Paul Not at all, no normal person does that.
-Steve Which way is backwards? Over or under?
-Tami LOL! That drives me insane! Except the last time it was put on backwards, my 5 year old put it on. Suddenly, it was incredibly cute to have the toilet paper roll on backwards.
-Mona uhhhmm NO!! 
-Shana Backwards? My mom and brother used to argue about the ‘proper’ way to put toilet paper on the the holder. My answer: “it is bum-wipe. Who cares??”
-Me Backwards is under, of course!
-Dori It HAS to go over, definitely!
-Chris Haha! I’ve posted about the same thing – so no, you’re not obsessing. 
And that’s right, backwards is UNDER! Danny puts it on that way every time, and I immediately turn it over, every time. We’ll probably still be doing it when we’re 100…
-Stacey There is nothing wrong with obsessing about some things – the toilet paper roll being on backwards (or under) will cause me to lose sleep!
-Cheryl I even will turn the toilet paper over in other people’s homes. But I don’t obsess.
-Dori That is hilarious, Cheryl!!! I’m glad you’re not the obsessive type! LOL.
-Kellie LOL – one of my kids put it on backwards last week and I had to tie my hands down to keep from switching it to the “right” way.
-David Having traveled extensively, I now realize there are two kinds of people in the world: Those who prefer toilet paper “over the top” and those who do it wrong.
-Keith Did you actually change it? There is an easy way to stop the obsession. Just get the kind of toilet paper holder that is like a hook where you can slide the roll on and off so it’s an easy fix and is never a big deal.
-Me I did not change it. Doing so would be like admitting I have a problem.
-Lori Amber sweety… It’s OK. I don’t want your brain to break!
-David Amber, changing it simply means Jamie has a problem and you are fixing it.
-Paul No, Amber, you would be FIXING the problem.
-Camille This is also a pet peeve at our house.
-Kaylene Which way is backwards? That is the question of the day? My way is always backwards to most of the world. Luckily Mark and I are the same when it comes to this issue.
-Shana Oh…….. this whole thing is SOOOOOOOOO funny
-Lisa After obsessing on this for a while, I would say… yes.
-Kaylene I started doing it with the paper coming out from under because then my kiddos couldn’t start running through the house with it coming off the top. I never returned to the normal way. I am doomed.
- David I vote we all get together and TP Kaylene’s house because she is one of “them”. jk.
-Kaylene I could use a year’s supply…
-Jen Hey, at least he puts it on! Never happens here!
-Me Don’t worry, Kaylene. We’ll just sent Cheryl over to your house. As she’s already confessed, she changes other people’s TP rolls, too.
============
It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who needs OCD therapy.
I ♥ my friends!
Here’s the not-so funny thing about being evacuated for a Hurricane. You go from this in the Outer Banks:
To this in Suffolk, a dreary inland suburb of Norfolk.
As an exiled family well-versed in making lemonade out of lemons, we congregated at the Virginia Beach Aquarium and Marine Science Center. I’ll admit it: my expectations were low. And they were very happily exceeded as we explored 300 interactive exhibits about marshes, the bay and the Atlantic Ocean.
Though the outdoor aviary, nature trail, and marshlands were closed due to the rain, the entire family loved discovering thousands of animals representing over 300 species.
In case you could not tell, Bode has forgotten how to smile in pictures and instead opts for an opt-mouthed gasp.
The kids loved the 3D IMAX® Theatre’s production on Dolphins and Whales.
Though evidently sweet Bode also struggles with the concept of wearing glasses.
The Crazy Canuck Clan had one must-visit restaurant: Dirty Dicks Crab House (mostly so we could say we did this):
We were evacuated from the Outer Banks before this dream came to fruition but were delighted to discover DD was in Virginia Beach. But all our hopes were for naught. After driving around aimlessly, we learned that Dear Ol’ Dirty Dicks had closed down and so we got our crabs at Hooks Saltwater Grill & Sushi.
Sadly, it just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
Stay tuned for When in Exile: Virginia Beach or Bust Part II
I have an ultra-competitive family. This is amazing to me for the sole reason that my parents are not overly competitive. Sure, they encouraged us to do our best and exposed us to many different activities. But there is an internal killer drive that I share with my brothers Pat and Jade.
In our schooling years, the result was excelling in pretty much every sport we played. In our over-the-hill years, the scenario is completely different:
When we vacationed at Tie Lake, B.C., we dressed in camouflage as we waged war on capturing the most turtles.
In croquet, our mallets become our weapons in the game we renamed, “Blood Sport.”
Whilst in the Outer Banks, our competition de choix was crab hunting.
When I was younger, my family enjoyed vacationing on Vancouver Island and crab fishing off the docks of Sydney. Back in The Day, we had all the fixins that included traps and bait.
In the Outer Banks, we had three things: Buckets, flashlights and our freakishly superhuman speed.
Work with me, here.
My mom also bought the men crab-hunting uniforms.
Jamie, Pat, Jade and Dad
Those decapod crustaceans didn’t stand a chance against us.
After dark when the waves would roll in, crabs would wash up onto the shore. They’d scurry around at warp speed before plunging back into the ocean.
Enter: The Crazy Canuck Clan.
We had two divisions of crabbers: the spotters and the catchers. The spotters were in charge of the flashlights and following the crabs’ every moves. The catchers were responsible for running around screaming like the Tasmanian Devil whilst trying to scoop the crabs up into their buckets.
I obviously excelled at the latter.
Bode was superior at the former.
When he remembered to actually point his flashlight at the crabs, that is.
The final standings of our crabbing competition?
The winner:
My niece Ashton. This mother-of-two was a force to be reckoned with. So superior were her skills that on our final night, she even caught one backhanded.
If this mothering thing doesn’t work out, she has crabbing to fall back on.
The Loser:
The Lord of the Gourds. On the first night, a crab raced over Jamie’s foot and he squealed like a girl. My beloved honey tried to redeem himself by capturing eight crabs the following night but the damage was done. So disturbing was his initial display that for the remainder of our crab hunting days, my family warned “Not to pull a Jamie.”
I always knew he should be a verb.
Most improved:
Hadley. For our first several nights, Hadley raced around like the rest of us but was a bit too squeamish to delve in for the kill (or rather, catch. And then release). But on our final night, she proclaimed she was ready and my family banded to together in the assist.
At the end of the evening, she jubilantly caught five crabs.
And she then threw a colossal fit as we left the beach because “I WANNA STAY AND CATCH SIX CRABS!”
She was officially inducted into the Crazy Canuck Competitive Hall of Fame.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. Learn More
