WARNING!

Reading this blog has made people want to kill themselves, so if you are easily depressed, perhaps you should find something more uplifting to do, like watch a Holocaust documentary or read a Cormac McCarthy novel.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Jose Muldoon's

Decided to do lunch. Could have gone back to the Marchese's but...I've been craving Mexican. And we might go somewhere else later, but...I wanted Mexican. Now. Instant gratification, I am they slave.

TMI moment - I'm a bit moist right now. Shirt is soaked with sweat, which is one reason I decided to sit outside - let the air dissipate any unfortunate odor and dry me off. I just hope the gaggle of girls next to me aren't too disgusted by my presence. Of course, they're to busy discussing the vagaries of the service industry to even notice me.

Listening to Shannon talk about her job in publishing got me thinking again of adapting Summers' Last into book form. It feels like it shouldn't be too difficult - the story is there, I would just need to add some more description. I want to ask Shannon what she thinks, but wonder if it would be taking advantage of our friendship. I don't know the etiquette on this. I've got 3 1/2 days to figure it out.

3 1/2 days of vacation left. Sad.

Mom called yesterday - dad had to go to the hospital - they thought it was a kidney problem, but they ruled that out and now think it's some kind of intestinal blockage. We Allen's and our gastric problems. Next week at this time I'll be recovering from my gall bladder surgery. Joy. Probably trying to squeeze too much in, but that's what breaks are for.

Lunch is done - not too impressed. Probably should have waited. Ah well, that's what vacations are for - taking chances. Æ

Columbine Trail

This is the way to spend a Saturday morning - on a trail in the mountains, the caress of a breeze on your face, an overcast sky clearing to a vivid blue. And sweet, sweet silence. For a weekend, I'm surprised there are not more people here. I've only passes one other hiker and seen a couple of riders. Voices have echoed periodically, but other than that I could be alone up here. Which is just what I wanted.

Spoke too soon. A couple other hikers just appeared. And I think they want the bench I'm sitting on. Why should I feel guilty? No reason. I was here first. And yet I do.

Been listening to God here in the silence. Candice reminded me before I left how significant Colorado has been in my life. 'Twas ten years ago that God shook me from my path and set me on another. Nothing earth shaking this time. No grand revelations. No serendipitous epiphanies. No wisdom brought down from the mountain. Not that God hasn't been here - hard to miss his footprints and fingerprints in this place. I do feel more grounded, more balanced than when I started, though sleep still eludes me. This trip has been healing, which I definitely needed.

So why do I wish it had been more?

Ridiculous, really. Expecting lightning to strike twice? Madness. And let's be honest - a little harder now to start over than it was ten years ago. But there's that fear of growing stagnant, complacent, seeking comfort more than adventure - or worse, comfort more than God's will. Yet I suppose still listening, still seeking what lies over the next mountain demonstrates a willingness to be surprised - and that alone should keep me from being too complacent.

I could stay here all day, but I should be headed back. We're off to Boulder tonight to see some Shakespeare - The Scottish Play, methinks. Been a while since I've seen it performed in its entirety. Here's hoping it's a good production. Æ

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Red Rocks Canyon

Not to be confused with the amphitheater. This is in Colorado Springs. Came here instead of Garden of the Gods because 1) I've been to Garden of the Gods before and 2) fewer tourists. You can still here the distant sounds of civilization - cars, chain saws - but still quite peaceful. Thunder also rolls, which makes my stopping a bit risky, but I don't think the rain will come. Or maybe I should say hope.

The trade off Tuesday went swimmingly (pun intended). WaterWorld was quite fun, though I was reminded why I haven't been in over ten years. Besides the interminable waiting in lines for a 30 second ride, I was struck by the flesh factor - so much skin, so little covering. Wouldn't have been so bad were not 90% of the patrons not under the legal drinking age. Guess I felt just a bit...creepy. But the five of us (Ryan's brother Dane joined us) had great fun sliding and slashing our way through the day.

Then we went to a microbrewery called Hops and met Paul and Shannon. There's always some trepidation when your world's collide, even if it was your idea. But all turned out well. No forced conversations, no awkward silences. An excellent transition 'tween the halves of my trip. We said our goodbyes at Hops and then Paul, Shannon and I headed into Denver to see the Rockies demolish the Dodgers 10-1. If you don't really care about the teams, you definitely want a high scoring game, which is exactly what we got. Fantastic seats, along the third base line. A wonderful night at the ballpark.

Still facing the dilemma I wrote about earlier - why I don't live here. And I know the rasons, mostly coming down to momentum. But what would it take to spring me out here? two thoughts come to mind - work or love. Both of those require action on my part, so the odds, not so good. But God has done greater and more unexpected things. Time to be moving on. More if time allows. Æ

Monday, July 21, 2008

canoe-dling

At a small lake not far from Alexa's - decided to take a bike ride to give her a break from playing hostess. Plus I needed some alone time to recharge, to think, to write. Had planned on getting up early this morning and writing, but my old friend insomnia stopped by and kept me up 'til the wee hours. So much for my hope that a change of scenery might help.

did I mention how amazing the scenery is here? Again, I'm faced with the question, "Why is it again I don't live here?" Add to that the amazing bicycle paths and lanes they have here and I truly have to question what holds me in Ohio - other than family, friends, an amazing church community, a house payment, a great job...OK, so sacrifices would have to be made...

Took my first trip to the great state of Wyoming. Went with Ryan, Alexa, Marcus and Ryan's friend Ethan and Ethan's mom and dad Bob and Carel. We drove up Friday night and set up camp in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, but ended up being a beautiful campsite right by the North Platte River. We woke up early and dropped off one of the cars at Pick Bridge, then drove through Saratoga up to Treasure Island, about 20 miles up river.

WARNING: This next part of the story will give you a terrifying look into how my brain works. Enter at your own risk.
Since there were seven of us and only three canoes, it meant one canoe would have three people. So Ryan, Alexa and I went in their new canoe (The Pelican), with Alexa in front, Ryan steering and me in the middle. We pushed off into the current went about one canoe length and promptly flipped the canoe. Luckily, it was still shallow, so we drained the canoe, got everything bakc in and headed off. Two canoe lengths later we flipped again, this time spilling our lunch into the North Platte, plastic wrapped sandwiches and Clif bars doing a much better job at navigating the current than we had so far. I quickly deduced it was my fault we had flipped and even suggested perhaps it would be better if I stayed behind. I was after all the stranger here. And let's be honest - my added weight significantly increased the difficulty. Luckily, none of the acknowledged my suggestion and after some shifting around, I ended up sitting in the middle of Bob and Carel's canoe.

Now if you've ever been canoing, you know the center seat is either the best seat or the worst. If you like sitting back, doing nothing, enjoying the view, it's great. Unfortunately, I was looking for a little more than that. So while I sat there, doing nothing, my brain, as it tends to do sometimes, began to convince me I had ruined everyone's day, that I'd spoiled a beautiful day of canoing because I couldn't manage to stay in the boat. And sitting there, completely useless, seemed to me at the moment a metaphor for my life: fat, unbalanced, the dead weight, the proverbial third wheel. As always, I knew none of this was true - I'd been canoing and was rather good at it. But I felt it was true, and at that moment, nothing else mattered.

But a teh sun slid higher in the sky and the river slipped beneath us, the beauty and serenity of the landscape washed away my darkness. I climbed out of myself and became lost in God's grandeur breathing all around me. The ripple of the river. The languid flight of a pelican. The swallows swooping over the surface of the river. Bald eagles perched atop steely cliffs. This is what nature does - it draw us out of ourselves, our endless ponderings and reminds us we are but a part of a magnificent whole. It's hard to stare at your navel with a mountain looming over you.

After a couple hours on the river, we switched seating arrangements and I ended up in the front of Ethan's canoe. And suddenly my body remembered what it was doing and soon we were cruising down the river, pointing out bucks on the bank, drifting beneath an impossibly blue sky, laughing as Ryan and Marcus hit a tree and flipped their canoe. I even proved an excellent asset in the many water battles that marked the last half of our trip. And when we stopped on the shore and Ethan, the veteran of many a canoe trip, shook my hand and praised my canoing skills, the small, ugly voice that had haunted me in the morning, threw up his hands in disgust and evaporated in the Wyoming sun.