Our House

So we loved it here, of course, how could you not once spring hits, every day sun-warmed and be-blossomed and life-affirming after the Big Dark, the smells and sparks of new growth and lengthening dusk so intoxicating. So yes, this is home. But Cy wanted a Home, capital H. 

He made persuasive arguments even though I had been eyeing the balance sheet and was not compelled by emotion because of the pure calculation: we could live forever on the fat largesse of selling our house in Idaho, or we could spend that excess down to buy a house, but what happened if our landing strip ran out, what about a serious injury or job loss or cancer or other emergency? There are things in life that eat up hundreds of thousands in one fell swoop. 

But then, you know, the AI bubble loomed, and then “we” went to war, and fungible assets felt a bit unsteadier, a bit less of a security blanket, a bit less compelling compared to that biggest and least fungible security blanket, a house, in a place we loved with all of our hearts. 

And why be a dragon, covetously hoarding gold for no purpose, when we can still very comfortably exist with the pile of gold somewhat depleted? 

He did the shopping and I held it at arm’s length because I have a bad habit of getting VERY invested, and I’ve grown too accustomed to getting what I want — my husband, my last house, my job, our last rental — so I don’t do well with disappointment. But then this big nice 20-year-old house with a dog-friendly yard on a dead end street next to an arterial pathway popped up and we put in an offer the day it posted.

Despite the loan officer finagling that made us doubt our life choices (“We don’t care what you have in the bank, why do you earn so little as a couple?!”), we were nimble and liquid and decisive and good at e-signing and collecting tax documents and answering emails.

Obligatory closing day photo

After closing, we got the keys a bit before noon and were moved in by the end of the day. A friend offered a hand and I told her we were already finished, explained that when Cy and I are both turned up to 11 we’re a formidable team, strike mission speed with no amphetamines required. We both hate the in-between, the butt scratching, the disrupted and disorderly life, so why not sprint for a day or two rather than turning unpleasantness into an ultramarathon. 

And then we were in the new house and I had my reservations, because we had been in the rental for three years and it had broad kitchen counters with capacious cabinets and was a little closer to our favorite swimming hole and I had to game out my new bike routes to work and shop and trails — and as I learned, and Cy greeted with zero surprise, apparently I am not great at coping with change — but here we are two weeks later and the yard is ripe green and the bedroom is cool and quiet and the neighbors poke their heads over the fence to say hi and Cy has a workspace in the garage for the first time and my pedal to work is shorter and everything is good. 

Really good.

Some Things I Thought About in 2025

Music in All Its Glory

I read Mood Machine, the book about Spotify, and it really reinforced how I’ve been trying to be more intentional about listening to music the past few years – only taking recommendations from humans and listening to new releases as whole albums rather than surrendering to algorithmic playlists that are undermined by the platform’s desire to underplay, and thereby underpay, real artists, and replace them with vibe-based facsimiles. 

Also NPR Music tickled my nostalgia so hard by doing a 25-year retrospective on the hosts' favorite or most zeitgeisty songs of each year – exactly the same amount of time that I’ve been a conscious consumer of music. I knew, and loved, most of the songs they shared from the opening notes. I like that I keep abreast of music. As with so many things, I am a creature shaped by my father and he is very dismissive of people who let their taste in music calcify. 

One album I was really excited about this year was LUX by Rosalía. All the critics drew the inevitable Björk comparisons but honestly I’m not familiar enough with her work besides Post for that comparison to resonate with me even though intellectually it feels apt. Rosalía more so reminds me of Beyonce in that she seems like an utter perfectionist, with a firm and exacting grip on her creative vision. She injects meaning and intention into every single reference, sample, word, and inhalation. Big Virgo energy, really – I never believe in astrology except when it makes sense to me, a Virgo, who is also a control freak. 

New Athleticism 

Being a control freak has been a disadvantage in mountain biking. I’ve had to be open to letting go and being willing to fail or be buckwild or go fast just briefly, as an essential step in losing some of my fearfulness when I’m on scary trails.

Always trying to be braver

Then on the other hand, in cyclocross, even though I didn’t have a great year results-wise, it was my best year yet in terms of maturity and effort – I had several races where I was forced to try as hard as I could, with a grit and good attitude I never used to possess. I hope to keep getting better at both aspects of cycling, being brave and trying hard, in 2026. 

Abundance and the Weaponization of Liberalism

I can’t resist the *discourse* around Abundance, every liberal’s favorite or most-despised book of 2025. The discourse is more fun than the book itself, which is quite adequate. Having covered local government as a reporter for almost ten years, first in Idaho and now in Washington, it’s been interesting to see the realities of government impediments in a blue state – Washington is famously second only to California in terms of being hard to build in. 

I’ve actually heard conservative Washington elected officials say with longing that in Idaho, planners will approve a development proposal scrawled on a napkin. I’d love for the conservative county commissioners of my former Idaho home to hear that – they’ve used the exact same phrase to bemoan their own perceived government overreach and extol the lax planning policies of even more rural communities. Perhaps these napkin submittals are apocryphal. 

Napkins aside, I’ve already seen much more weaponized public process in my short time in Washington. Homeowners here couch their NIMBYism in much more culturally accepted jargon about the environment and vulnerable communities rather than only using the NIMBY 101 tropes of traffic and noise. As someone who pretty much just thinks building more housing is a good thing, it’s hard to suppress my raised eyebrows when I hear these anti-growth dog whistles. 

Still Hating Generative A.I. 

I can’t stop reading think pieces about all the ways it’s bad and destructive and deeply lame and how it’s infantalizing our population. (Here are two of my favorite grumpy reads on the topic: Why Does A.I. Write Like … That? and The Reverse-Centaur’s Guide to Criticizing A.I.)  

I’m afraid my complete intransigence about it might mark me as intellectually incurious – I’ve never tried using one of the LLM tools or generated a single image or video because it would make me feel unclean, and I scroll past Google’s stupid A.I. search synopses as quickly as possible. But I don't think A.I. offers anything novel. It’s just the residue of human knowledge scraped off the internet and repackaged in the most basic way possible.

I’m not sure feeling so much antipathy toward A.I. is productive and it makes me unpleasantly dogmatic in casual conversation but my god I hate it. 

Eudaimonia

I discovered this word and held it in my cupped hands like some kind of gorgeous moth. I feel intellectually and emotionally stimulated at all times. I have a deeply fulfilling job and financial stability. I have lots of great friends to do fun things with and an amazing backyard in which to do those things. I am blessed with a relationship that’s better than any fantasy, that never feels like work, with a partner who is 100% on my team and who constantly amazes me with his empathy and creativity and humor and awesomeness. It feels contradictory to the heinous reality of everything that’s happening right now, but in most ways my life couldn’t be better.

My loves

Coming to an End

Hood River is a great place. Tina and I rode at Post Canyon, which she described (with some derision) as the Bent Creek of Oregon...I couldn't complain. Smooth, fast tabletops, switchbacks, and berms are something I don't get enough of. Then magically the dusty trail opened up into what felt like a remote mountain meadow. I loved it. 

After our ride we enjoyed some excellent music at Double Mountain Brewery, then watched fireworks over the Columbia River. God bless Uhmerica. 

Short track on motocross course=painful, ridiculous. I will say, Portland's race scene is something to aspire to, but the thirty minutes of heckling, tutus, and mud reminded me that I am really, truly not interested in racing right now.

 

And now it's one more day on the train, one more day in Bellingham (hoping to watch some Tour at Mount Bakery, just so I can gaze upon the younger Schleck), and a long day on the plane. Big thanks to Tasha and Alexis for their hospitality and good times. 

Brief

Alexis, Tiffany, and I are heading out to Hood River for some bicycle riding so here's a quick recap of the past few days. 

-I finally fell in love with Galbraith on my third ride because I discovered the wealth of awesome not-freerider stuff the mountain has to offer. 

-Circumstances dictate that I won't be going to Canada at all this trip, which is pretty disappointing. 

-Hopping the train to go to Portland felt like coming home. I love trains now. Especially because the nice people at Amtrak let me stay in Portland an extra day at no cost. That means tomorrow: moto short track!

-Yesterday was beach day. Oregon has very pretty beaches.  

-We availed ourselves of Portland's excellent bus system to check out the massive blues festival going on at the waterfront. After wandering through crowds of tripping hipsters and nutty old people we found a great band for dancing, and proceeded to do so for three hours. Love. 

-I am SO over traveling for now. Looking forward to settling back into the comfortable (and MUCH CHEAPER) routine at home. 

Bennett and the beach

Now That I'm Here...

So Bellingham is pretty cool.

I've ridden some at Galbraith (which is essentially the mountain just for mountain bikers), once with Tasha and once with Angermeier. It was fun, and scary, and left me with some bruises and a deep longing to learn the trails well enough to get comfortable. Each trail is a lovingly-built masterpiece of tabletops, berms, and the occasional ridiculous wooden creation. Needless to say, in the dark, primeval forest the baby dinosaur felt right at home.The trailhead of Scorpion. We totally sessioned this feature...not.

The food and drink are fantastic. In the short time here I've sampled coffee from every shop I could find, sipped raspberry mead and old vine zinfandel, eaten sausage and gruyere crepes, exquisite sashimi, and salmonberries off the bush, and had a chocolate croissant that almost rivaled one from BMB.

The term "bike friendly city" has been bandied around a lot in recent years but I never really got it until I came here. Bike friendly is wonderful. Every street has a bike lane, every shop has a place to lock up, and most importantly drivers are aware of and courteous to cyclists.

Tomorrow we're off to Vancouver, and Tasha has a friend who knows some good Canadian trails. Bring the gnar.We ventured up Mount Baker as far as the snow would let us. It was beautiful beyond words.