It seems as though birthdays lend to moments of reflection and recollections about one's life and the journeys that have brought you to this exact moment in time. Mom called this morning and left a voicemail about how thankful she was that I was brought into their lives twenty-five years ago. Of course, Mom is always warm and loving, always a kind word for my brother and I, but her had me thinking...
And I think it should be the other way around.
Thank you Mom and Dad, for bringing my life into this world.
What if I had never been given the chance to experience all this life has to offer? The valleys and peaks, joys and heartaches.
I'm so grateful for the opportunity to be on this great earth and actively participate in what it has to offer - all that is good, as well as that which is difficult. So many are never given the chance.
cuddlebug...
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This weekend I finally had the privilege to meet Piper Jalee, who was born February 19th to extremely proud parents Zach & Bridget. I drove back home this morning and all I could think about today was her - wishing I could hold her one more time to watch the funny faces she makes, hear her little grunts, and all the other little things she does to make those around her smile. It doesn't take much for her to entertain. There's something so sweet and joyful about a little baby - you just can't help but love them instantly.It dawned on me that this was basically the only time I've even been around an infant for an extended period of time. And Bridget taught me well. She told me not to be afraid of them crying (usually she was hungry, a need that was quickly met) which was good, because usually when babies cry I freak out and quickly hand him/her to mom. Piper helped me out by not crying much to begin with, but if she did, it wouldn't last long.
There's so much to tell you about my visit. We celebrated Piper's 1-Month Birthday, shopped at Hobby Lobby for nursery decor, bought groceries, went to Lowe's, had her one month doctor's check-up (she was ridiculously cute squirming around on the scale waiting for her measurement - she gained two pounds in two weeks!), ate at Bogey's (holy monkeys the shakes there are amazing), took lots of pictures, and went for walks around the neighborhood. And Piper was a trooper throughout each journey. In fact, anytime she was in her car seat and in motion, she was a happy sleeping baby, which makes running errands about as painless as possible with a newborn.
...Somehow through it all, I was able to avoid diaper duty - phew!
I'm so thankful for the time I was able to spend with Piper and her family. It's so beautiful to see two wonderful people bring a child into this great big world. Piper - you have so many great adventures ahead, may you always know you are loved.
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
evergreen...
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Daylight Savings Time can be exhausting. Today I was feeling a bit sorry for myself - my undereyes were dark, my body worn out. This evening however, my roommate humbly changed my opinion on the difficulty of losing that one hour of sleep.
She said, "You know, as much as I'm tired today from losing an hour of sleep last night, I am so thankful it's still light outside."
Hello. It was about 6:30pm. I had been staring out the kitchen window eating a bowl of cereal and appreciating the sun finally revealing itself through the clouds, and it never dawned on my that yesterday it would have been dark out.
What a wonderful feeling to have spring so soon on the way.
She said, "You know, as much as I'm tired today from losing an hour of sleep last night, I am so thankful it's still light outside."
Hello. It was about 6:30pm. I had been staring out the kitchen window eating a bowl of cereal and appreciating the sun finally revealing itself through the clouds, and it never dawned on my that yesterday it would have been dark out.
What a wonderful feeling to have spring so soon on the way.
suzuki forenza wha...?
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Having a rental car is a funny thing, and it can lead to precarious situations. I can't wait to return this one back to Enterprise.
I miss the Volvo and all its wonderful delights. Like a horn in the middle of the steering column, right where I like it.
I miss the Volvo and all its wonderful delights. Like a horn in the middle of the steering column, right where I like it.
caffe americano...
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On my Starbucks cup this afternoon:
The Way I See It #76
The irony of commitment is that
it's deeply liberating - in works,
in play, in love. The act frees you
from the tyranny of your internal critic,
from the fear that likes to
dress itself up and parade around
as rational hesitation. To commit is
to remove your head as the barrier
to your life
- Anne Morris, Starbucks customer from NYC
It's not often a paper cup makes me reflect as much as this one did.
What excuses am I holding onto? What fears and self-doubts are preventing me from being the best me I have to offer? Why is our society, this generation, myself included, so afraid of committing to anything? When will we take ownership for our actions, decisions, and ultimately our future? When will we stop making excuses for our mediocrity and indecision?
Very soon, I hope.
And all that from a grande soy latte.
The Way I See It #76
The irony of commitment is that
it's deeply liberating - in works,
in play, in love. The act frees you
from the tyranny of your internal critic,
from the fear that likes to
dress itself up and parade around
as rational hesitation. To commit is
to remove your head as the barrier
to your life
- Anne Morris, Starbucks customer from NYC
It's not often a paper cup makes me reflect as much as this one did.
What excuses am I holding onto? What fears and self-doubts are preventing me from being the best me I have to offer? Why is our society, this generation, myself included, so afraid of committing to anything? When will we take ownership for our actions, decisions, and ultimately our future? When will we stop making excuses for our mediocrity and indecision?
Very soon, I hope.
And all that from a grande soy latte.
dear john...
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Did anyone know there really is such thing as the Dead Letter Office? I guess when I was little I'd heard about it once or twice, but I mistakenly thought it was the place where letters for dead people went after they died. This Tuesday I found out that theory was slightly inaccurate.
Sunday night I was trying to wrap up some loose ends at work, so on my way to grab some food, I gathered a bunch of letters to be mailed, both private and work related, so I could drop them off and cross the task off my to-do list. I searched my office high and low for stamps, made sure all the envelopes were sealed, and proudly left with my stack of mail. I pulled around the moon-shaped drive and pulled up as close as I could to the big blue drop box. Double checked to ensure they all had stamps. Yep. Check. And as I tossed them down the chute I realized, all too late, that although they might all have stamps, not all of them had addresses. Nooooo!
Two of the notes were thank you's from Christmas - I'm a lot behind! I had actually written them over a month ago, but long story short, they were lost and only recently discovered. Looks like they'll be lost again.
I called on Monday to see what happened to letters without addresses. Who even does that? Sheesh. The Post Office would never pick up the phone, so I decided to drive there before work. I get there and no one is manning the office. In fact, all the lights are off and the door is locked. Great - does anyone even work around here? (I accidentally sighed that outloud) A woman checking her PO Box graciously explained in was President's Day and they were closed.
Brain-head move #2 within 24 hours.
An even longer story short, I got ahold of the Post Office on Wednesday. After explaining to the man what happened, he asked if I'd at least included a return address on the envelope? Dude, if the letters had return addresses, I wouldn't be desperately searching the post office in an effort to track them down.
He said I had to contact the Dead Letter Office within 30 days to see if it can be found at retrieved. That's when I found out a Dead Letter Office is really a place for letters without a home. An interesting thought, really. But I just want my letters back so I can share them with the loved ones intended.
So Laura, Steve & Sharon - if you receive thank you's four months late, it's not my fault. They're stuck in an office somewhere with no place to call home.
Sunday night I was trying to wrap up some loose ends at work, so on my way to grab some food, I gathered a bunch of letters to be mailed, both private and work related, so I could drop them off and cross the task off my to-do list. I searched my office high and low for stamps, made sure all the envelopes were sealed, and proudly left with my stack of mail. I pulled around the moon-shaped drive and pulled up as close as I could to the big blue drop box. Double checked to ensure they all had stamps. Yep. Check. And as I tossed them down the chute I realized, all too late, that although they might all have stamps, not all of them had addresses. Nooooo!
Two of the notes were thank you's from Christmas - I'm a lot behind! I had actually written them over a month ago, but long story short, they were lost and only recently discovered. Looks like they'll be lost again.
I called on Monday to see what happened to letters without addresses. Who even does that? Sheesh. The Post Office would never pick up the phone, so I decided to drive there before work. I get there and no one is manning the office. In fact, all the lights are off and the door is locked. Great - does anyone even work around here? (I accidentally sighed that outloud) A woman checking her PO Box graciously explained in was President's Day and they were closed.
Brain-head move #2 within 24 hours.
An even longer story short, I got ahold of the Post Office on Wednesday. After explaining to the man what happened, he asked if I'd at least included a return address on the envelope? Dude, if the letters had return addresses, I wouldn't be desperately searching the post office in an effort to track them down.
He said I had to contact the Dead Letter Office within 30 days to see if it can be found at retrieved. That's when I found out a Dead Letter Office is really a place for letters without a home. An interesting thought, really. But I just want my letters back so I can share them with the loved ones intended.
So Laura, Steve & Sharon - if you receive thank you's four months late, it's not my fault. They're stuck in an office somewhere with no place to call home.
puddin'...
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While attempting a little office organization today I came across the menu of a restaurant called Iron Barley. It's located in St. Louis, possibly not in the best part of town. But it was showcased on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, and it's so GOOD!
I ordered Schnitzel & Spaetzle and have honestly been craving it ever since. I don't even know what that means (I think it was a fried pork chop of some sort), but it was such great food.
If you're ever in the STL area I highly recommend it stopping by. Don't be discouraged by the ambiance. It's well worth the grub.
I ordered Schnitzel & Spaetzle and have honestly been craving it ever since. I don't even know what that means (I think it was a fried pork chop of some sort), but it was such great food.
If you're ever in the STL area I highly recommend it stopping by. Don't be discouraged by the ambiance. It's well worth the grub.
don't say a word...
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One of my favorite, rare pleasures in life? Falling asleep to the sound of rain pitter-pattering on the rooftop, the distant rumble of thunder lulling me deep into dreamland.
click...
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I was so excited for this morning. Brian and I got in late to Sacramento, and after picking up the rental and finding our hotel, we were pretty dog-tired. Whatever that means... dogs are almost always tired. Anyway, the change in time zone meant I'd get to sleep-in and still conquer an AM workout before the first training session of the day began.
My sleep was much disturbed, which was unusual for me, but I chalked it up to the flight and anxiety of travel and what the week had in store. My alarm went off perfectly as planned - 6:05AM PST. Why 6:05? I don't know. I suppose 6:00am seemed too early. I flicked on the lamp above the night stand, ready to attack the treadmill and work through some sore muscles.
That's weird. No light. Hmmm, probably operator error, as it was last night during the five minutes it took me to figure out how to turn it on. Bathroom break. What the?! This light doesn't work either? I tried every other light in the room, then checked the clock. Out, out, and out. Called the front desk. They knew - it was affecting the entire hotel and a technician was on his way.
Okay, well, I guess I'll answer some emails until I can get ready. Oops, wait a minute. My computer battery is dead from using it on the plane.
So I went back to bed, only able to fall asleep halfway. Eventually the time gap for a workout slipped by, then time for a real shower slipped by as well. Finally it was 7:30am, and I knew I couldn't lay in bed forever. I took a freezing cold shower in the dark with hair high in a ponytail (we all know what a little mist can do to these bangs), and attempted to get clean. Seriously, that is some difficult business! You throw one of those variables in and it's tricky, but both! Hope the trainer doesn't mind greasy hair and half shaved armpits.
The electricty came back at 9:30am. The training was delayed but we powered through it. This evening Brian and I went for a run then out to a great restaurant downtown called Biba. Our server, Rueben, was incredible bar none. And the food was excellent as well.
Now I'm headed back to bed, hoping the early morning tomorrow brings will be filled with fake flourescent light and powered plug-ins.
My sleep was much disturbed, which was unusual for me, but I chalked it up to the flight and anxiety of travel and what the week had in store. My alarm went off perfectly as planned - 6:05AM PST. Why 6:05? I don't know. I suppose 6:00am seemed too early. I flicked on the lamp above the night stand, ready to attack the treadmill and work through some sore muscles.
That's weird. No light. Hmmm, probably operator error, as it was last night during the five minutes it took me to figure out how to turn it on. Bathroom break. What the?! This light doesn't work either? I tried every other light in the room, then checked the clock. Out, out, and out. Called the front desk. They knew - it was affecting the entire hotel and a technician was on his way.
Okay, well, I guess I'll answer some emails until I can get ready. Oops, wait a minute. My computer battery is dead from using it on the plane.
So I went back to bed, only able to fall asleep halfway. Eventually the time gap for a workout slipped by, then time for a real shower slipped by as well. Finally it was 7:30am, and I knew I couldn't lay in bed forever. I took a freezing cold shower in the dark with hair high in a ponytail (we all know what a little mist can do to these bangs), and attempted to get clean. Seriously, that is some difficult business! You throw one of those variables in and it's tricky, but both! Hope the trainer doesn't mind greasy hair and half shaved armpits.
The electricty came back at 9:30am. The training was delayed but we powered through it. This evening Brian and I went for a run then out to a great restaurant downtown called Biba. Our server, Rueben, was incredible bar none. And the food was excellent as well.
Now I'm headed back to bed, hoping the early morning tomorrow brings will be filled with fake flourescent light and powered plug-ins.
yes ma'am...
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There are so many decisions we make daily. So many things that require a choice.
What time to wake up?
Hit snooze or crawl out of bed?
Eat breakfast?
Respond to emails or make phone calls?
Drive the speed limit?
Be honest with a friend?
Have dessert?
Use your blinker?
Take out the trash or leave it for your roommate?
Stick up for what you believe in or let it go?
Floss?
How do we know if we’ve made the right one? And will we ever know how one decision affects our life? We do the best we can. Or we hope we do, but is it enough?
I’m on a plane to Sacramento. We are headed to a week-long leadership training. It’s the longest I’ve been gone for work at one time. We have some fun things planned (yummy restaurants, IKEA, REI), but my heart has been heavy the last few days, making it difficult to be excited for the journey. Perhaps if it were near the ocean…
I’m not sure how to express my feelings, disappointments, frustrations that have recently surrounded me. My mind feels cloudy; confused. And each question I ask myself as a means to process seems to be answered by another question following close behind. Solutions and resolutions seem far and few between.
It’s funny to think about people. About how predictable we are, no matter how unique and interesting on the outside, a majority of the time we respond as expected. The saying often goes when dealing with people, there is always the unknown, the X factor – we are not robots; we are not black and white. But part of me likes to argue that deep down, perhaps we are; maybe there is very little gray left at the end of each day.
I think that’s why when someone takes you by surprise, it’s quite refreshing. You were ready for the right hook shot, and got the left uppercut instead. Yowzers. Didn’t see that one coming.
I wish people were less predictable. I wish we all were.
What time to wake up?
Hit snooze or crawl out of bed?
Eat breakfast?
Respond to emails or make phone calls?
Drive the speed limit?
Be honest with a friend?
Have dessert?
Use your blinker?
Take out the trash or leave it for your roommate?
Stick up for what you believe in or let it go?
Floss?
How do we know if we’ve made the right one? And will we ever know how one decision affects our life? We do the best we can. Or we hope we do, but is it enough?
I’m on a plane to Sacramento. We are headed to a week-long leadership training. It’s the longest I’ve been gone for work at one time. We have some fun things planned (yummy restaurants, IKEA, REI), but my heart has been heavy the last few days, making it difficult to be excited for the journey. Perhaps if it were near the ocean…
I’m not sure how to express my feelings, disappointments, frustrations that have recently surrounded me. My mind feels cloudy; confused. And each question I ask myself as a means to process seems to be answered by another question following close behind. Solutions and resolutions seem far and few between.
It’s funny to think about people. About how predictable we are, no matter how unique and interesting on the outside, a majority of the time we respond as expected. The saying often goes when dealing with people, there is always the unknown, the X factor – we are not robots; we are not black and white. But part of me likes to argue that deep down, perhaps we are; maybe there is very little gray left at the end of each day.
I think that’s why when someone takes you by surprise, it’s quite refreshing. You were ready for the right hook shot, and got the left uppercut instead. Yowzers. Didn’t see that one coming.
I wish people were less predictable. I wish we all were.
one foot on the ground...
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It’s funny how you just break down,
Waitin' on some sign
I pull up to the front of your driveway
With magic soakin' my spine.
Can you read my mind?
- The Killers 'Read My Mind'
Waitin' on some sign
I pull up to the front of your driveway
With magic soakin' my spine.
Can you read my mind?
- The Killers 'Read My Mind'
sweet home...
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Was it just me or did the sun shine a little brighter than usual today?
Maybe it was the two hour coffee shop chat with an incredible friend, or the bierock delivery followed by good conversation, or perhaps the piano lesson (yes, I was quite rusty), a friend's crazy-awesome news, the workout (okay, I'll be honest, Pilates wasn't great, but seeing Bridge and Liz was) or even missing dinner in exchange for a little quality time...
Life is so good. And I love being on vacation.
Now, does someone want to help me unpack all my bags?
Maybe it was the two hour coffee shop chat with an incredible friend, or the bierock delivery followed by good conversation, or perhaps the piano lesson (yes, I was quite rusty), a friend's crazy-awesome news, the workout (okay, I'll be honest, Pilates wasn't great, but seeing Bridge and Liz was) or even missing dinner in exchange for a little quality time...
Life is so good. And I love being on vacation.
Now, does someone want to help me unpack all my bags?
up above the world so high...
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There is nothing like looking out at the Western Kansas sky during the black of night, with billions of twinkling stars shining clear and high, high above. I always forget, until visiting back home, how many stars are hidden in the bright lights of the city.
But here, where life operates a little slower and Starbucks isn't available on every corner (or any corner for that matter, as I grudgingly remembered yesterday morning), the view is so magnificent.
Breathtaking, inspiring, speechless.
A perfect end to a beautiful Christmas, as we pulled in late tonight from a day spent at Grandma's house visiting family, sharing stories, and eating too many sugar cookies.
But here, where life operates a little slower and Starbucks isn't available on every corner (or any corner for that matter, as I grudgingly remembered yesterday morning), the view is so magnificent.
Breathtaking, inspiring, speechless.
A perfect end to a beautiful Christmas, as we pulled in late tonight from a day spent at Grandma's house visiting family, sharing stories, and eating too many sugar cookies.
you can count on me...
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It seems as though there is always so much to do in order to get ready for Christmas. I sit here tonight, bundled under warm blankets, with the dreaded 'List' running through my head. It just seems to get bigger and bigger. And then the stress settles into my shoulder blades, hoping to find a permanent place to call home. When is there time to do it all? I've already decided my Christmas goody deliveries are going to be prepared the week after the actual holiday. I hope friends don't mind. Today time simply ran out.
Why is it so difficult to often remember Christmas in its true sense? Each year I tell myself I'll take more time to anticipate the real meaning of the season. And every year December 22 rolls around and I'm scrambling for last minute gifts and licking envelopes for cards that won't make it to mailboxes on time.
Getting together with friends last night, putting up the tree, making cookies and cider - those are the things that make me smile and literally feel warm from the inside out. I loved seeing everyone together, laughing, sharing a meal, telling stories. That is happiness. We should take time for it more often.
Merry Christmas everyone! Thank you for your friendship and love since my move to Kansas City. What a blessing you all have been!
Why is it so difficult to often remember Christmas in its true sense? Each year I tell myself I'll take more time to anticipate the real meaning of the season. And every year December 22 rolls around and I'm scrambling for last minute gifts and licking envelopes for cards that won't make it to mailboxes on time.
Getting together with friends last night, putting up the tree, making cookies and cider - those are the things that make me smile and literally feel warm from the inside out. I loved seeing everyone together, laughing, sharing a meal, telling stories. That is happiness. We should take time for it more often.
Merry Christmas everyone! Thank you for your friendship and love since my move to Kansas City. What a blessing you all have been!
yikes...
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I'm sure they're convenient for storage purposes in the off-season, but the blow-up, air-filled Christmas yard decorations have simply got to go. Maybe save the money for your kid's college fund instead.
I don't know, just a suggestion.
I don't know, just a suggestion.
yesteryear...
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Tonight we celebrated Jon's birthday, Laura B. style, which means lots of great eats (including homemade apple pie), lots of great drinks, and a fun group of invitees. Toward the end of the evening Laura and I reminisced about the Denver blizzard two years ago, and the night a group of us went sledding behind a pick-up truck in the middle of City Park. It ranks on my top three best days ever, and if I had to guess, probably on Laura's as well.
After talking about it one of the guys commented, "I need an epic day. I haven't had an epic day in a long time".
That got me thinking, and I realized he was right. How far and few between those absolutely incredible days are. Why don't we make time for more of them?
After talking about it one of the guys commented, "I need an epic day. I haven't had an epic day in a long time".
That got me thinking, and I realized he was right. How far and few between those absolutely incredible days are. Why don't we make time for more of them?
almost there...
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You know the feeling that you're about to absolutely burst with excitement? Like your heart is so full it could possibly pop? That's how I've felt since, oh, about 11pm last night. I finished packing my bags at 2:30 this morning, and am sitting in a cozy seat waiting for my flight to Denver.
Hellooooooo mountains!
Hellooooooo mountains!
thank you for...
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Where to start when there is so much... that I can walk, read, sing at the top of my crazy lungs, drive a car, sleep with warm blankets, laugh, exercise, breathe. That I can visit friends, have friends to visit, and be surrounded with people whom I love. That my Mom and Dad value family and support and long hugs. That I have a little brother who is brilliant (and who can officially now beat me up). That I have wonderful people to work with. That I can play Ultimate Frisbee and Racquetball and ski my heart out on the mountaintops. That I can praise God's beauty in all things he's created.
That I can be myself. Yep, I'm definitely thankful for that.
That I can be myself. Yep, I'm definitely thankful for that.
paddle, paddle, paddle, POP!...
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I kept thinking I'd finish up writing about vacation as soon as I returned home. I was shocked to see my last post was almost a month ago. How did time slip by so quickly? I want to remember, but it already seems so long ago... I'll give it a try.
Day Four
The last day of my retreat, and it wasn't even a half day - my parents and aunt were coming at 10am. I awoke early to get things packed and was still almost late to Mass. Mel provided spiritual direction one last time, and then I waited, anxious like a little kid, to see Mom and Dad. They finally pulled up in an itty-bitty rental and we squeezed my luggage in the trunk. Throughout the trip as we drove the sometimes busy roads of San Diego, Dad would often proclaim about the rental, "Don't worry! It's fully insured - I paid for extra coverage." This seemed to give him the peace of mind to drive like a crazy person - Midwest style. Luckily most of our travels were less than 10 minutes away; another wonderful perk about the area.
Because our time was so limited in CA, we each chose one thing we really wanted to see while visiting. Dad's pick was the USS Midway. According to the museum website, The Midway was a carrier that was commissioned in 1945 and served as a flagship in Desert Storm in 1991. With a 47-year career of service to country, no other aircraft carrier has come close. This ship is H-U-G-E! Mind blowing huge. If you visit, make a stop here. The natural flow of the tour and information provided ranked this floating museum in my top three of all-time. We stayed until we were kicked out for closing time. That evening I think we watched the sunset and relaxed. I can't quite remember.
Day Five
Dad awoke early (he hadn't adjusted to the time change or the fact that he was on vacation and sleeping in is required). He watched the surfers for over an hour - the first one arriving to the water's edge at 5:45am. Umm... that's crazy early. We went to Mass, then headed to my favorite breakfast spot - OB Donuts. Their the ones with the bagel sandwiches. My family fell in love with them as well (we went back the next day too!). Today Mom and Aunt Vicky were going to check out SeaWorld, while Dad and I drank coffee, read the paper, sat on the beach, etc.
However, much to my wonderful surprise, Dad quietly said, with a twinkle in his eye, that he um, might, maybe want to try surfing. YAAAAAY! I had wanted to surf while we were here - might as well - but didn't want to go it alone. I knew if my brother was with me he'd join, but Dad had said earlier with a laugh that there was no way he'd be participating. So we excitedly dropped off the girls to see Shamu, and headed to the nearest surf rental. I think we both had huge butterflies in our stomach, but when it came time to officially sign up for gear and a lesson, we had to say yes.
The experience was incredible. My surfing skills? Not so incredible. We had an hour and a half lesson on ground, then slipped (pulled, prodded, and tugged) on our wetsuits and dipped into the water. Our instructor told us we could keep the boards until 6pm, but he doubted any of us would make it that long. Dad and I looked at each other like, "of course we will!" Our instructor was right. It was intense. The salt burned my eyeballs and the back of my throat. No matter how much I spit, the burning wouldn't leave. And the waves - they just kept coming! The water we were in was shallow enough to stand - it hit me at the chest/neck. Except when a large wave rolled in and took me with it. I just had to wait until it sat me down again. We were at Dog Beach were waves were typically 2-4 feet. This day they were 3-5 feet, with some peaking at 6ft. I got rolled over the falls twice - an experience I pray never happens again. Having no control over your body as a wave's energy rolls you around underwater until you don't know which way is up, is not my idea of a good time. I eventually learned how to prevent that from happening. I never fully mastered the "paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle, POP!" method of standing on a board. A few times I was able to stand crouched, hoping not to fall over, but most were short-lived. Dad did a nice job of picking up the skill, and he was able to ride in a few for a short time. Another hour and a half later we were beat down, winded, and tired! Dad had a smile on his face like I hadn't seen in awhile. "We surfed the Pacific Ocean," his eyes seemed to shine.
We sure did Dad. I'll be crossing it off my bucket list.
The rest is to be continued. We had our All-Manager meeting followed by the Holiday Party last night. I'm pooped and my eyelids are drooping. Time to call it a night. So good night!
Day Four
The last day of my retreat, and it wasn't even a half day - my parents and aunt were coming at 10am. I awoke early to get things packed and was still almost late to Mass. Mel provided spiritual direction one last time, and then I waited, anxious like a little kid, to see Mom and Dad. They finally pulled up in an itty-bitty rental and we squeezed my luggage in the trunk. Throughout the trip as we drove the sometimes busy roads of San Diego, Dad would often proclaim about the rental, "Don't worry! It's fully insured - I paid for extra coverage." This seemed to give him the peace of mind to drive like a crazy person - Midwest style. Luckily most of our travels were less than 10 minutes away; another wonderful perk about the area.
Because our time was so limited in CA, we each chose one thing we really wanted to see while visiting. Dad's pick was the USS Midway. According to the museum website, The Midway was a carrier that was commissioned in 1945 and served as a flagship in Desert Storm in 1991. With a 47-year career of service to country, no other aircraft carrier has come close. This ship is H-U-G-E! Mind blowing huge. If you visit, make a stop here. The natural flow of the tour and information provided ranked this floating museum in my top three of all-time. We stayed until we were kicked out for closing time. That evening I think we watched the sunset and relaxed. I can't quite remember.
Day Five
Dad awoke early (he hadn't adjusted to the time change or the fact that he was on vacation and sleeping in is required). He watched the surfers for over an hour - the first one arriving to the water's edge at 5:45am. Umm... that's crazy early. We went to Mass, then headed to my favorite breakfast spot - OB Donuts. Their the ones with the bagel sandwiches. My family fell in love with them as well (we went back the next day too!). Today Mom and Aunt Vicky were going to check out SeaWorld, while Dad and I drank coffee, read the paper, sat on the beach, etc.
However, much to my wonderful surprise, Dad quietly said, with a twinkle in his eye, that he um, might, maybe want to try surfing. YAAAAAY! I had wanted to surf while we were here - might as well - but didn't want to go it alone. I knew if my brother was with me he'd join, but Dad had said earlier with a laugh that there was no way he'd be participating. So we excitedly dropped off the girls to see Shamu, and headed to the nearest surf rental. I think we both had huge butterflies in our stomach, but when it came time to officially sign up for gear and a lesson, we had to say yes.
The experience was incredible. My surfing skills? Not so incredible. We had an hour and a half lesson on ground, then slipped (pulled, prodded, and tugged) on our wetsuits and dipped into the water. Our instructor told us we could keep the boards until 6pm, but he doubted any of us would make it that long. Dad and I looked at each other like, "of course we will!" Our instructor was right. It was intense. The salt burned my eyeballs and the back of my throat. No matter how much I spit, the burning wouldn't leave. And the waves - they just kept coming! The water we were in was shallow enough to stand - it hit me at the chest/neck. Except when a large wave rolled in and took me with it. I just had to wait until it sat me down again. We were at Dog Beach were waves were typically 2-4 feet. This day they were 3-5 feet, with some peaking at 6ft. I got rolled over the falls twice - an experience I pray never happens again. Having no control over your body as a wave's energy rolls you around underwater until you don't know which way is up, is not my idea of a good time. I eventually learned how to prevent that from happening. I never fully mastered the "paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle, POP!" method of standing on a board. A few times I was able to stand crouched, hoping not to fall over, but most were short-lived. Dad did a nice job of picking up the skill, and he was able to ride in a few for a short time. Another hour and a half later we were beat down, winded, and tired! Dad had a smile on his face like I hadn't seen in awhile. "We surfed the Pacific Ocean," his eyes seemed to shine.
We sure did Dad. I'll be crossing it off my bucket list.
The rest is to be continued. We had our All-Manager meeting followed by the Holiday Party last night. I'm pooped and my eyelids are drooping. Time to call it a night. So good night!
does it have sugar in it?...
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I had a hankering to make pancakes late this evening. I wasn't even hungry, but I hadn't eaten dinner, and that bottle of Aunt Jemima syrup had been calling my name from the cabinet since I'd arrived. My dad was always the master pancake maker of the household. He know just how to whip up a great batch, a cook them perfectly - light and fluffy, with a golden rim around the edge (which was my favorite part - I would request the 'crispies'), which I now know was simply a little extra butter love.
Anyway, my quest in making delicious flap jacks proved a little difficult when I realized all too late in the game (pancake was ready to be flipped NOW) I had no real spatula. In fact, I had no even sort-of okay spatula at my disposal. All of the better utensils were waiting in the dishwasher to be cleaned from my previous cooking experiments. So I quickly decided to go with a white bowl scraper (that's the technical term - Wikipedia says so) and a fork. My pancake turned over quite efficiently. Yippee! Success! It wasn't until scooping it out of the pan that I noticed a white, filmy residue covering the bottom of the pan. What the... oh no. Oh, oopsie. I checked out the scraper. 'Not heat-resistant'. The melted side of the scraper confirmed my fears. Definitely not heat-resistant.
I used plenty-o-Aunt Jemima to cover up the uninvited flavor of spatula. I'd still give it 3.5 stars. Silicon and all.
Anyway, my quest in making delicious flap jacks proved a little difficult when I realized all too late in the game (pancake was ready to be flipped NOW) I had no real spatula. In fact, I had no even sort-of okay spatula at my disposal. All of the better utensils were waiting in the dishwasher to be cleaned from my previous cooking experiments. So I quickly decided to go with a white bowl scraper (that's the technical term - Wikipedia says so) and a fork. My pancake turned over quite efficiently. Yippee! Success! It wasn't until scooping it out of the pan that I noticed a white, filmy residue covering the bottom of the pan. What the... oh no. Oh, oopsie. I checked out the scraper. 'Not heat-resistant'. The melted side of the scraper confirmed my fears. Definitely not heat-resistant.
I used plenty-o-Aunt Jemima to cover up the uninvited flavor of spatula. I'd still give it 3.5 stars. Silicon and all.
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