Mom's Weekend at WSU

              This was my fifth Mom’s Weekend at WSU, and it was another memorable one. The weather was perfect for the five and a half hour drive over, sunny and clear. I rolled into Pullman at about 5:30, and lucked into a parking space right in front of Sarah’s apartment. I had my suitcase and 12-page, highlighted program of Mom’s Weekend events in hand.

            Johnny had a “new” restaurant to take us to for dinner, Gambino’s, in Moscow, Idaho. We mistakenly thought it would be less crowded than eating in Pullman, but the food was excellent for our party of six: Sarah K. and her mom, Gerri, and Johnny; Sarah S. and her boyfriend, Andy, and me. Fettucine was twirled, and pizza munched on as we traded funny stories about our kids’ growing up. I announced that it wouldn't be a successful Mom's Weekend unless I got ice cream from Ferdinand's Ice Cream Shoppe.

               Johnny and his girlfriend Sarah had plans for her mom and me the next morning. To my surprise, they included waking up early and hiking. Johnny’s a night owl. I’m a recovering night owl. Neither of us are particularly outdoorsy. (I know, we should be kicked out of Washington for that!) 

              As we ate breakfast at McDonald’s he recalled (not fondly) his father and I dragging him snowshoeing up Mt. Rainier after he’d stayed up until 3 a.m. the “night” before. He remembered one of the people we’d been with that day who kept lecturing about “glissading” down the mountain. He used technical terms to clarify for Sarah and her mom that glissading amounted to sliding down a snowy mountain on your butt.

               In the Mom’s Weekend list of events, a hike and yoga at Kamiak Butte was listed, but we didn’t sign up for their tour. We'd do our own thing. Kamiak Butte is a National Natural Landmark, located midway between the towns of Pullman and Palouse. After Johnny scared us by nonchalantly saying that a rumbling noise in a dumpster was a bear when it was really a Bobcat forklift vehicle behind the dumpster, we started hiking up the trail.

               Johnny said that he thought it was about a ½ mile hike. I waited until we got started to break the news to him that in the program it said it was a five mile hike. The trail switch-backed up higher and higher through a quiet forest. To my eyes, it didn’t look that steep, but my legs and lungs said otherwise. The temperature was perfect for a hike—in the 50s. I had worn a fleece pullover that I’d take off in the sunshine, then put back on in the shade.

               I huffed and puffed up to “the top.” The view of three states: Washington, Idaho, and Oregon, was spectacular. WSU was down there, nestled in the rolling hills of the Palouse. There was a family near us taking graduation pictures of their son in his cap and gown. We had two seniors with us, but hadn’t thought of hiking with graduation gear. I was just proud of myself for remembering to bring running shoes.

The palouse wasn't this green when we were up on Kamiak Butte, but it was still impressive. That's WSU in the center.

               On the way up, we noticed that by far, most of the hiking parties coming down consisted of sons and their parents. Not many girls chose this activity for Mom's weekend. As we passed each other on the trail, I’d catch snippets of conversations: Dads asking for shorter routes home, Moms asking how Chem 101 was going, or who their over 6 ft. tall “child” would be rooming with next year.

Laura and Johnny, Kamiak Butte.

               We noticed a trail headed up even higher than we were. So, we weren’t at the top. In the debate of whether to push on or go back to the car, I chimed in that I thought we’d gone far enough. Johnny disagreed. Right then, a couple of grandparents in their eighties popped up, and continued up the trail for the higher level. Johnny gave me a stern look that goaded me, “If THEY could make it, you certainly can!” I quit my whining, picked up my feet, and started hiking higher.

               We came around a bend and spotted snow still blanketing the forest, true to Johnny’s prediction. Then a movement caught our eyes. A tiny chipmunk with black stripes down its back, flitted in and out of a pile of fallen logs, peeking at us.

Our chipmunk friend.

Chipmunk photos taken by Sarah Kemp.

               At the very top of Kamiak Butte, we took in the view of endless hills that were once an ancient inland sea. I did my own solo impromptu down dog yoga on what felt like the top of the world. Then we started the hike back down, taking a different loop of the trail. There wasn’t any snow, just a little mud on the trail, so darn it, we couldn’t glissade down.

Gerri and Sarah, Kamiak Butte, WA.

The moms: Laura and Gerri make it to the top of Kamiak Butte.

Instead, Johnny called Sarah and Andy. Sarah had a paper due so she had opted out of the hike. He told them to meet us in the town of Palouse for lunch at the Green Frog. A reader of my blog recommended it. The sandwiches were very tasty and the Coronas icy cold. We all generously donated our dill pickle wedges to Andy. Every table in this friendly café and bakery was taken, but two people in the kitchen easily handled the crowd.  Across the street, we strolled through the Bank Left art gallery, and savored some handmade chocolates.

               After squeezing in some shopping at the Moscow Mall, we all met at Johnny’s apartment where we found out that Kamiak Butte’s elevation is 3641 feet. Snoqualmie Pass is 3022 feet high. No wonder this sea-level girl was winded!

               We made a sudden, semi-panicked attempt to get WSU’s creamery ice cream 15 minutes before Ferdinand’s closed, bolting out of the apartment. But when we got there, the line of other ice cream desperate moms stretched way out into the parking lot. I’d just have to do without their famous ice cream.

Instead, we visited the grizzly bears at the vet school. Three baby cubs frolicked and tripped over one another. Two teenaged-looking bears stood up on their hind legs, and wrestled as we watched with our faces pressed up against the chain link fence.

Back at his apartment, Johnny and Sarah K. made us Chicken Marsala, salad, and homemade bread for dinner. His other roommate Marissa’s mom, step-dad, boyfriend, and Dalmatian were there too, and we all couldn’t stop laughing at Bill Engvall’s standup routine on Netflix. (Dexter, the Dalmatian didn’t laugh much.)

After dinner, we went to Sarah’s apartment. At 1:00 in the morning, we were still talking, playing with makeup, and painting fingernails with OPI’s Suzi Sells Sushi Down by the Seashore.

Kimbrough Hall, WSU, Pullman

               Sunday morning, Sarah and I ate the scones we’d bought at the Green Frog and steeped some tea for breakfast. Then it was off to Kimbrough Hall, the music building, to listen to Andy, Sarah, and Johnny play piano. I was very pleased with my private, insiders’ concert performed by the music department’s top pianists. 

               We made an intense, quick shopping trip through Wal-Mart to get them both stocked up again. Sarah and I had our picture taken by a professional photographer at the Bookie.

Sarah, Laura and Johnny Stark at Dupus Boomers.

   Then lunch at Dupus Boomers in the Cub Union rounded out Mom’s Weekend. Unbelievably, I succeeded in getting my Ferdinand’s ice cream, after all. An ice cream sundae made with WSU’s creamery ice cream was on the menu. I enjoyed the delicious treat right down to the whipped cream and cherry. I also scored some Cougar Gold cheddar cheese on my way out of the Cub because there were still a few cans left in the bookstore!

Mom and her two cougars: Johnny, and Sarah Stark outside the Cub Union on Mom's Weekend.

               There were a few activities that we missed, like the fashion show, the Ukrainian egg sale, and the baseball game. There were a few that we couldn’t get into like the Mom’s tea and spa. Sarah and I didn’t have matching hoodies, like the sorority girls and their moms. But the unplanned, spontaneous time we spent together re-connecting and laughing is what Mom’s Weekend is really all about. What a special weekend my two cougars and their friends treated me to! Can’t wait ‘til next year!

Johnny and Laura try to make stern Stark faces much to Sarah's amusement.

Laura Keolanui Stark is not sore from the glissade-free hike. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.

Gray Skies, Nothing But Gray Skies

I have a consistent weather pattern. Every year when March rolls around, I strongly question our decision to move from Hawaii to the Pacific Northwest. Even though I know what we were thinking, WHAT were we thinking?

               I’m so weary of gray rain and chronically soggy pant hems I can barely muster the energy to be annoyed. In true northwestern style, I don’t carry an umbrella, and lately I don’t even pull a hood up over my head. I just keep my nose down and slog from car to building, building to car through the damp wetness that only an earthworm could love.

Why even bother listening to the weather forecast? Big surprise, it’s going to rain. Five day forecast: more rain, and possible flooding. Ten day forecast:  some more rain. You can call it showers, drizzle, precipitation, it’s still rain.

               Am I exaggerating how many rainy days we’ve had lately?  A little online research confirmed what I’d thought in a twisted glass more than half full, pretty much overflowing way. In March, there were 28 days of rain, 2 days were mostly cloudy, and 1 rebellious day was partly cloudy, mostly sunny. February was actually better: 11 days of rain, 6 days of snow, 7 cloudy days, and 2 sunny days.

Mt. Rainier is invisible, airbrushed gray out of the landscape. Our lawn is more moss than grass. Washing the car is an exercise in futility. Judging by the amount of daylight, it could be 10 in the morning or 2:00 in the afternoon. There's no difference, but the rain is constant. It’s like living in an aquarium.

               Inevitably at this time, my (and everyone else’s) thoughts turn to places with better climates, with more sunshine. I don’t even need a lot of sunshine, but a third of a month’s worth would be nice. There’s only so much Vitamin D, and full spectrum light bulbs can do. This calls for more drastic measures—March vacations in sunny destinations, or moving. It’s a little shocking that when the clouds disappear, and Spring finally comes there are still people here to witness it.

               We’ll see if my drooping, wilted spirits lift again when the daffodils pop up, and the rhodies start blooming. The cherry trees are trying to smile through the rain with their pink blossoms, but so far their petals have been knocked carelessly to the ground by the wind and rain drops. Maybe by the summer, my March gloom will be faded and forgotten. In the meantime, these are the times that try this woman’s soul.

Laura Keolanui Stark is scanning Washington’s solid gray skies for evidence of the sun. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.