Enhance the Romance

One crisp January night ten years ago, I set my studies aside, walked out of my North Hall dorm room, and made the drive to my parent's house thirty minutes away. There I spent several hours hunched over a cookbook and a counter top, cracking eggs, sifting flour, greasing pans. It was the night before Jill's birthday and I wanted make my new girlfriend feel special. So I made her a three-tiered chocolate cake--frosting and all--from scratch. Even though Jill later noted that the frosting I had so painstakingly made and applied was a little rich for her taste (hard to believe), it was a rather romantic gesture, if I don't say so myself.

But, oh, how the mighty have fallen.

This year I spent the night before and the night of Jill's birthday in meetings. And Jill baked her own cake. I had thoughts of frosting it for her (though I had no intention of making any frosting from scratch), but instead, my secretary did it while she baby-sat Adrian. Some (who are easily impressed) might think that impressive--a sign of my great importance--but I'll admit it's really rather pathetic. So even though we're old codgers who have been married seven and a half years (we're experts now), I probably ought to do something to step it up a notch--some gesture to enhance the romance.

Then again, I managed to sit through two really bad chick-flicks that Jill picked out (Because I Said So and The Holiday) while keeping the my groans and sarcastic comments to a minimum (sleeping through the last half of The Holiday helped in that regard). That has to count for something, doesn't it?

First Christmas

Thought I'd throw up (maybe I should just say "post") some video of Adrian's first Christmas with us. Enjoy! Time to pack my bags!


Christmas 08 from Joel Schreurs on Vimeo.

My Big Mouth

Back in Jr. High, when older brother Micah was qualifying for state track meets in high school and brother John was shattering the records in grade school, I decided I wanted to be a runner too. So every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, a showed up in the grade school gym with a few dozen of my classmates for track practice. We'd slog out a couple of miles together and then return to the gym, wheezing, to do sit-ups and push ups under the watchful gaze of (my then hero)Coach Landstra . And then, every other week or so (or maybe more often, I've tried hard to blot this time of my life out of my memory) we'd climb on the bus and drive to Orange City or Hull or Rock Valley for a meet.

The meets did not go well for me. Mr. Landstra always put me in the mile (which is not to say I was an actual "miler"). Back then I liked to think it was because my coach/hero saw some potential seeded deep within me--a gift that would blossom at any moment and result in a beautiful bouquet of ribbons and trophies. In retrospect, I've realized that it was most likely because the mile race always had a fountain start. This meant that Mr. Landstra could enter as many runners in the event as he desired--which is really a way of saying that he could have me "participate" in the meet without having to worry about my liability to the team.

I'm not bitter.

At any rate, I donned my blue "SCCS" t-shirt and lined up with the other slow guys (and a few fast guys) for every mile race for two years. As you might have guessed, I did not win any of them. There were, however, personal victories. One of the greatest came that cool spring day in eighth grade when I not only managed to finish without getting lapped (a first)but also came home with a fourth place ribbon. Never mind that there were only three other participants that day. It was still a victory for me.

Some day, I may write about my brief foray into high school track. (Being the brawny fella that I am, I naturally signed up to throw the discus, which really means that I signed up to ride around in the van and hang around in the weight room with my pal, Dave). This lasted for three weeks, until the coaches threatened to make me run. Then I heard other duties calling my name and quit.) But suffice it to say, running and I don't get along well. We never have. Probably never will.

All of which might make you wonder why I'm considering running a marathon.

That's right. I'm considering running a marathon. There are probably a lot of reasons for this (Dealing with my demons? Being white?). I'll leave those for the professionals and say that the the main one is that I told Jill that I would. To be more precise: I told her I would if she would.

This, of course, was a foolish thing to do. Jill has a much better history with running than I do. Not only does she voluntarily run on a regular basis, she's actually finished a marathon, and a half marathon (trail!), and several 25k races. She's reallly quite something.

But back last March, when I heard this sentence coming out of my big mouth, all that seemed like a distant memory. Jill was eight months pregnant and, um, not exactly in peak running form (though she was actually very fit--for a pregnant lady.)In fact, she was wondering if she would ever get back to running again. So, being the loving/encouraging husband that I am (and going through my annual three week flirtation with running, where I pick it up, try to convince myself that I like it, and then drop it again), and being a man with little or no ability to think before I talk, I told her that, if she wanted to get back in shape and needed a training partner, I'd be that guy. I would run a marathon with her. (I don't know why I didn't offer to do something more pleasant with her--like make a practice of climbing mountains on our knees with our hands tied behind our backs, but I digress).

So, long story short, Jill is looking at doing the Ft. Collins Marathon in six and a half months. The question is, should I be true to my word? What if I ran with her for four hours--but only covered a mile or two? Would that honor the sprit of the thing? Is it even physically possible for me to cover marathon distance in less than, say, nine hours?? Or should I say to my beloved wife, in the indelible words of the great Meatloaf, "I would do anything for love, but I won't do that?"

Please tell me what you think. And then go and conduct my pants experiment and report back (you bums).

Adrian Update

More video of our little boy. I'm impressed that I managed to cut thirty plus minutes down to five. You should be too. This is all from October, which was full of "firsts." He now sits, is working on eating solid foods, went in the jumper. Oh yeah, he's also huge.

The six month stats are:

• Height: 28.5". 95th percentile
• Weight: 19 lbs. 75th Percentile

In other words, my sixth month old can beat up your six month old. Probably.

A few other notes on the video:

• For some reason, I'm in most of the shots and Jill is not. This is not because I'm a more active parent (Jill is probably caring for Adrian over 90% of the time). Its so that when he's nineteen, full of resentment, and in therapy, we'll have at least some proof that his father was around.
• We do talk to our son. Quite a bit, actually. However, I hate the sound of my voice, so I've managed to cut nearly all of the adult chatter out.
  
  
  Adrian, Oct 08 from Joel Schreurs on Vimeo.

How to Make the Big Bucks

I think I've figured out away to make the big bucks. Maybe pay for a new bike, and/or Adrian's college, and/or a mountain home.
I'm going to spend my evenings creating/editing videos of my son--like the one below--and refuse to release them until his grandparents pay up. If Brad and Angelina can get a few million just for a couple snapshots, there's no telling what I could get for these videos.
First one is free. Next time, I'm sending a bill.


Untitled from Joel Schreurs on Vimeo.

PS: Yes, I posted two days in a row (in case you failed to realize that the post below is also new).

Going for a trip

With Baby Schreurs apparenlty taking her/his sweet time to enter the world, we've been trying to think of ways to speed things along. People at church have (seriously) offered offroad jeep rides, herbal teas, and advice on a certain "other" method (wink wink, nudge nudge. I'll write a nice thank you note to anyone who convinces Jill "it" actually works).

Those are all fine, but I'm thinking the best way to bring it about is to tell Jill that it's not going to happen anytime soon, scoot off on some adventure that takes me deep into the mountains (or perhaps to Moab--there is a group from church going this weekend) and find myself well out of cell-phone range and hours (days?) from home. I predict that if I did that, Baby wold be here within moments of my falling off the grid.

39.5 Weeks

If I'm counting correctly, Jill is at 39.5 weeks--the due date is Friday, but our Doc has suggested that may be a false hope.

Here is Jill this morning, dressed for her work as a pregnant ninja.

She's smiling for the picture, but really, she'd just been yelling Come out of there already!

I like it when Jill laughs and the whole belly shakes.

I think this is around or before Christmas. We were so proud--thinking that Jill looked so very pregnant. Silly us.

In other news: signs of spring include the bird nest on our back porch. I thought it was cool at first, but Momma bird has taken to dive bombing my head whenever I walk out the back door. Now I'm considering the purchase of a bb gun. (Not really.)

Prego Pics...4.6.08

Under three weeks to go (we hope)...Jill and Baby are as glorious as ever.

We had intended to take one of these together comparing Jill with baby under shirt to Joel with basketball under shirt. However, we didn't want to ask the neighbors to take a picture--they probably think us odd enough already. For the record, the two would have been very similiar (although, depending on what Baby is up to, the belly is sometimes more the shape of the deflated/lumpy basketball in the back corner of my garage)

The view from below.

We still like our dog.

St. Patty's Day

Our latest (not really that up to date) pics of Jill--these taken on St. Patty's weekend (2 weeks ago?). A friend commented that her belly looks "glorious". The Doc insists she's really not that big. I, of course, agree with both.

In other prego news--one month to go. This week, we took a tour of the hospital where baby will (hopefully) be born . I think it made Jill more, rather than less, nervous. Other than that it was good. (Although it wasn't very nice of them to make all those pregnant ladies ride the freight elevator. They claim it was for convenience, but I don't know...)

Best. Monday. Ever.

Okay, maybe not the best Monday ever. But top five. Or top ten. I've had some really good Mondays.*

Here are some highlights:

• The French: My parents came out for a quick visit this weekend. We decided to send them off in style with breakfast at a local bakery: Trompeau. Real French folks serving real French pastries. Oiu oiu! I don't care if it's unpatriotic (or unmanly). I love their ham & swiss croissants. The pear/chocolate are also good.

• Hot Deals: We had to go to Runner's Roost to exchange some things for Jill. We were delighted to find a 40% of sale and--best of all--shoes in my size. Apparently, my size is now 14D. I never knew that. They are really, really white--but I'll work on that.

• Smart Barbers: I got my hair cut yesterday. My hairdresser theorized that I spend a lot of time outside. Her reasons? My wild, bushy eyebrows. Apparently, she thinks there's a connection. No longer are they a mark of shame. Now they're a badge of honor declaring to the world that, despite my soft pastor's hands, I am indeed a rugged outdoorsman. Who wouldn't want that?

• Celebrity Sightings: I think I spotted Josh Blue on my bike ride. He was standing shuffling along the Cherry Creek bike trail. Of course, I can't be certain. It may have been a homeless guy who bore a striking resemblance. Do you think Josh Blue spends a lot of time outdoors?


• High Calories: Jill and I finally got her birthday date in. Cheesecake factory! Tiramisu cheesecake is, in fact, very delicious.

• High Culture: We want to Plainsong last night at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts. I love legitimate theatre. And it's not just because the theatre crowd makes me feel tough. Great story. Great actors. Great night!



• The Tax Man: We had our taxes done yesterday. In reality, this didn't start out so great. Our accountant--who seemed blissfully incompotent from the start--looked at us at the end of our hour and said, "Uhm, sorry to have to tell you this--but you owe another $2,500. I guess we goofed last year when we estimated your payments." This was not a highlight in our day. In fact it was something of a low point (Despite the fact that it gave me a good sermon illustration for Sunday's message on Matt. 6:24-34). But things got better--both for the reasons mentioned above and because of the phone call we got twelve hours after our appointment. Turns out the tax man goofed. We're getting a refund! Or we think we are. We're trying not to get too overly optomistic in the (likely?) event that he goofed again.

Wow--seven things. It seems biblical to stop there!

*I know people are supposed to hate Mondays. But as they are my day off, I really, really like them.

Adventures with Daisy

It was a beautiful day in Denver last Sunday (55+ degrees) so Jill and I decided to go to the mountains and find snow. Something about wanting to feel like we're still in the midwest, I guess.

Anyway...we took Daisy along. She's been gaining some sympathy weight with Jill and it was time to get her some exercise. She loves running around in the snow, and at times reminded me of those cartoons where Bugs Bunny is tearing around under ground and you can only see a trail of dirt popping up on top of him. It was like that--but with snow. In this little clip, she actually gets stuck in a rather deep drift. And then I do. I thought snow shoes were supposed to float on top of the snow?!

No animals were harmed in the making of this film.

Prego Pics

A few pics of Jill and baby's growth for your viewing pleasure.

I'm not really sure what's going on here.

Jill's new hobby: naval gazing.

Sunday morning.

Apparently, we (being Jill and Baby) are making progress. Jill had someone ask her when she was due a week or two ago. When she told them it wasn't until the end of April, they looked at her in disbelief. "Really?! I thought you only had a few more weeks!" I'm not exactly sure why people say such things, but I know others have had far worse.

Back "Home"

After a week in Iowa, Jill and I are back "home".

At least I think that's what we're calling it now.

We're happy in Denver--we (obviosly) enjoy the many recreational opportunities, we love our jobs, enjoy lots of sunshine and our great neighborhood (complete with great coffee shops within walking distance that are probably a little too hip for us). But we're still adjusting to the idea of calling it "home."

For the first five or so years of our marraige we were always anticipating our next move (summer assignments, year long internships etc). It's taken a bit for the reality to sink in that we could be here for a long time (five years? twenty years?). It's odd enough to think about it for ourselves, but its even more strange to think that our child(ren) will call this place "home"--will say they are "from" Denver--in a way that we never can.

There are a lot of things I miss about Iowa. There's the appeal (probably easily sentimentalized) of living in a small town--of running into people you know in the grocery story and being able to ride your bike or walk almost anywhere. They beauty of the plains (you may need a trained eye to see this, but trust me, it's there). And more than anything, family.

On the bright side, however, there are a few perks about no longer living there. For one, it doesn't get "freeze-yer-booger-cold" in Denver (it was something like 2 degrees the day we left). I also don't get thirty-seven phone calls a day telling me why Mike Hackabee should/should not be president. Furthermore, if my weight gain last week was any indication, if I moved to Iowa this week I would weigh approximately 438 lbs by next Christmas (so much food!). While this would open up the possibility of me being the heaviest contestant ever on "The Biggest Loser" and would also mean that I could actually find clothes that fit at Big and Tall stores, it would also mean my new pants wouldn't fit. I like those pants. So, all things considered, it's probably best that we stay here.

On a slightly differen note, I should say that some things have changed in Iowa during fifteen months since we were last there. Some changes are good (a bookstore in Sheldon), some not so good (a Super Wal-Mart in Sioux Center), and some are just strange. In this latter category, I place the appearance of a multitude of what I formerly new as bank signs--those electronic signs that show the time, date, and some inspirational message. Well, they aren't just for banks anymore. They are everywhere. Taco Johns, Demco, the furniture store, Fanatasia Gifts, McDonalds (oh yeah, they have McDonalds now too). No one in Iowa has an excuse for not knowing the current time and temperature. Here are two examples of said signs--located within about fifty yards of each other (and I think there's another one or two just down the block).

Flashback 1993

Here's some more video of Jill at work. I missed the intro, but with the stage, music, and mic, I think I'd have a good audition tape for Ron Popeil(were he not bankrupt). The first video introduces the show ("Mission Super-Chill!"), the second will take you back in time to your seventh grade science experiments. I suggest you don't watch them if you have problems with motion sickness.

One Smart Lady

I spent a good chunk of the day Monday (Christmas Eve) at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science watching Jill do what it is she does there. I've seen her at work before, but never in this particular department. This was quite possibly my last chance for a while as the space suit is starting to get a bit snug around the middle. Depending on how this works, tomorrow I may add some exciting footage of her simulating the conditions on Tritan. No doubt about it, she is one smart lady.


Untitled from Joel Schreurs on Vimeo.

Tummy.

There it is. Finally bigger than mine.
There's a real live baby in there. One that likes to swim, kick, and eat (a lot, apparently).
As of last Friday, we're half way there!

P.S. Note the rosy glow.

Baby Bump.

Here's a picture of Jill-"Showing." Quite exciting.

Here's me--"practicing" with Daisy.

Amusing (to me)

Jill and I have had a great time telling folks our big news. Generally, the reactions have been quiet satisfactory (though I'm not sure why people say things like "Well, I wondered..."). However, some deserve to be recorded for the ages.

Like tonight. We had a group of folks from church over for supper--including Andy and Ruth. I really love Andy and Ruth. I'm not sure how best to describe them other than to say they're very sharp--and at least a bit eccentric.

Okay, I'll try to do better.

Andy is 89--tomorrow. He made sure to slide into conversation that it's his birthday November 4. Because he loves holidays--when it was their 65th Anniversary this year and we announced it at a church potluck, he pumped his fist in the air and whooped for joy. They dress up for Halloween (Andy as a convict, Ruth following some sort of Hawaiin theme). In their house they have miniature sphinxes and pyramids--just because they think they're interesting. They're always at the front of the line at church potlucks. Andy wears string ties (Lanyards?) and a belt with his name on it. He calls me "short stuff" (and I call him "Young Man.") Forty years ago, Andy and another guy from church took their teenage sons to Mexico--and had them ride in the back of the pickup the whole way to Mexico city. Tonight, he teared up as he told us about his trip to Israel--and the way his athlete's foot was cured after he waded into the Jordan with his Sunday shoes on.

Okay, they really are hard to describe.

Anyway, tonight we announced to Andy and Ruth that we're expecting. Andy's reply was classic. "Well, what do you expect? That's what happens when people get together....happens all the time!" (They have six kids.)

----------------------

Also good was the response of my niece, Emily. We didn't actually tell Emily ourselves. My sister, Leah, broke the news. "Joel and Jill called last night," she said. "And they had some exciting news. What is the most exciting thing that could happen at Joel and Jill's house?" Emily didn't need to think about that one. "Daisy is having puppies?!"

Well, that would be exciting...

Opinion Poll

I know I'm not supposed to covet, but I do spend a lot of time daydreaming about what my next bike purchase will be. A delicious Vanilla from Portland? A classic Kirk from Montana? A pricey Pegoretti from Italy to hang on my wall?


Well, probably not this year (probably not ever, actually). But I do have something in mind. Here are three options...in an attempt to engage my readers I'll let you take a guess which is most likely.


Is it the traditional Dutch transportation bike, built to carry loads up to 125 lbs. Elegant, understated, and practical?

Or will I roll like John Dorian on the fuel efficient (but wildly pollutant) Buddy scooter?

Or will it will it be the updated classic--the Radio Flyer Twist Trike?


If you guessed #3, you're the lucky winner! Of course, I won't be riding it--but some young Schreurs will be...

We're Back

Well, we're back--"We" being me and my computer (which has been undergoing major surgery the past few weeks but is finally fixed--I think) and, more importantly, me and Jill from our vacation.

The short version is that Jill and I went to Creede, Colorado for a few days and had a great time. We did all those things married people do--you know, went to bed early, went for a few walks, played games (I taught Jill Yatzee!) and read (for the record: Jill and I listened to The Last Juror, I finished Whale Warrior, and also completed Terrorist and Lone Survivor). Then we came home so that Jill could go to work on Friday and Saturday and I could go for a little bike ride in Moab, Utah.

Here's the longer version:
Jill and I headed out after church Sunday afternoon on what turned out to be about a five hour drive down U.S. Highway 285. We chatted a lot, ate "Pull and Peels" (more my thing than Jill's), and then had a jaw dropping moment when we came around a bend and suddenly had a huge mountain range (the Collegiate Peaks, I believe) extending before us. The pictures never capture it, but we paused for a few tries anyway.



Monday, we headed from our little cabin on the Rio Grande to the town of Creede. In the summer months, Creede is supposed to be a happenin' little town--it has a lot of theatre, artsy-fartsy stuff. But in the fall (as we expected), there wasn't much to do there but sit around in the local coffee shop and talk about high-powered rifles, camouflage, and musk (its hunting season, in other words). Not really our thing. But that was okay. We had a very greasy burger, stopped by the Forest Service to get some maps and recommended hike routes, and then headed out of town to take one of the recommended hike. A good time was had by all, but a better time would've been had if the place we ate for lunch had put a little more hamburger in with their grease. And if we had Daisy along (sniff, sniff).

Tuesday Jill and I drove a little ways up from our cabin so that Jill could hike and I could bike. The goal (for me) was to make it to make the 14.5 mile MTB ride to Wheeler Geological Area and see the sights. I made it--eventually. And in retrospect, I'd even say I had a good time. But for much of the ride, I could only think, "Wow, I'm not very bright. This was not a good idea."

Here's a few free cycling tips for you from one who's been there. First, elevation makes things harder. (Yes, very good, I know). And on a related note: 11,000 feet (the elevation of my ride) is much higher than 5,000 feet (where I live). And the second tip: if you make it about 5 miles into your ride (okay, 3.5 miles into your ride) and you're wondering if it would be best to turn around--if you really have what it takes to mountain bike 30 miles over tough terrain with much less oxygen than you're accustomed to--you've probably bitten off more than you can chew. You're probably going to have a miserable couple of hours ahead of you. At least, that was my experience. I made it to my destination, but for a good two thirds of the ride home I felt lousy. I don't want to scare my mother or sound overly dramatic, but I was cold. I was tired. I was exhausted (I had to stop and push my bike up several small hills). Like I said, I wasn't very bright in choosing to do that ride. But of course, I'd do it again in a heart-beat if I had the chance.

That was Tuesday. Wednesday was a bit more laid back. We had intended to go "somewhere", but it looked like snow, so after going out for an even greasier burger than Monday, we hunkered down at the house. Perfect.

Thursday we made the drive back home, swinging by Great Sand Dunes National Park. There are sand dunes there. They are very great. So I guess the park is aptly named. We didn't spend much time there, but some day we'll go back, hike up them, and get lost in the wilderness

That's all for that portion of the trip. I'll tell about my little bike ride in Moab later this week. For know, here are some more pics of the rest of the trip (push the play button if you haven't figured that out already).