"Today the guns are silent. A great tragedy has ended....

...A great victory has been won. The skies no longer rain death - The seas bear only commerce - Men everywhere walk upright in the sunlight. The entire world is quietly at peace.
~General Douglas MacArthur

After stopping by the White House I debated about which way to head. I decided to head toward the Washington Monument. It was beautiful. I knew we'd be going up in it Saturday, but still took lots of pictures. I will include those in the post for that day. From there I headed to the National WWII Memorial. I remember when it was being built and the fundraising that was going on to support its completion. I'd never seen it, besides in pictures and renderings. I was so glad to be able to see it with my own eyes. It is a beautiful tribute to the men and women who gave their lives for and served this nation during that war. While I was there I wrote this:

Here I sit in the misty spray produced by the wind blowing water from the fountain at the WWII Memorial. This place is a silence inducing, awe-inspiring place of respect, peace and tranquility. I came here to see, to respect. I came here to see. I came here because my grandfather could not. As I sit here basking in the sun, living my privileged life I recall stories of sleeping in hammocks on ships in the middle
of who knows where, heading for God knows what. I don’t recall many stories that
Grandpa told about the war. He kept the scary ones to himself, in his nightmares, crammed in the back of his mind. That makes me sad, but that is what he thought he needed to do. I don't know if he talked to anyone in my family about many of his experiences. He would approve of this place. He would appreciate it. He would spend a long time here in silence I imagine. Remembering those experiences, healing a bit from those memories. For him I will spend that time here.

There are amazing numbers of people mulling around. I overhear a mother explain to her probably 4 or 5 year old daughter that this is a memorial. “What is a memorial mom?” “Honey, it’s a place of respect, memory and hope.” Yes, it is all of those and may today’s generations understand that; through questions, experiences and responses like the one I overheard. May this not just be a pretty fountain, a glorious place to sit in the sun. May it symbolize the memory of those who served, respect them and spread hope to all who visit this sacred space.

What a beautiful day for a beautiful place.

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

That is one of the most famous addresses in the world, and I found myself standing there today. Yes, it is the addresses of the residence and office of the President of the United States. The White House. I didn't go into the buidling, no, not this trip. But I still found it facinating. After seeing it in movies, pictures, press conferences, etc I was able to see it with my own two eyes. And, there is more...

My first DC experience besides walking to the Metro and riding it into DC was when I was walking along mostly minding my own business. All of I sudden I turned a corner and there were massive people standing on corners down the block. Police were everywhere. I figured something major was going on. Little did I know that I was only a block away from the White House.

Turns out that President Obama was on his way home. After planning on not seeing the President and talking some of my participants at work out of trying to convince me to see him I was going to. Shortly his motorcade made it down the street, quite briskly, I might add and they pulled into the driveway. There were probably 30 vehicles. All black. All dark windows. All cruising along. Obama rolled his window down and waved at the crowd. Then it was over as quickly as I stumbled upon it.

President Obama's motorcade

Front of the White House.

Me with White House behind me.

There were TONS of people. The weather was beautiful!

My first morning on vacation

I spent my first morning at my vacation destination chatting with Josh early in the morning for me. We got up at 7am (4am Portland time) after not going to bed until 1:30 or 2 am. Yikes. Shortly, Josh went off to work. He is on the 12th floor of his building. Butters (the cat) and I stood at the window to wave goodbye as he was getting to the truck.
Because of the floor Josh is on he has a great view. Below you can see the view. In the forefront you can see the Washington DC Mormon Temple. Behind that and to the left is Rockville, MD.

I have a feeling I will love sitting in his apartment in the mornings and looking out and then in the evenings when the Temple is lit up.

"The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one's own country as a foreign land." ~Gilbert K Chestert

I have arrived. Woohoo!

I am safe and sound in DC. Well, to be more exact, Silver Spring, Maryland! I'm glad that I wasn't the one driving from Baltimore to Silver Spring. It must be better in the daylight, right?!

Anywho, I wasn't planning on doing many hand written journal entries, but felt so inclined while in the air between SLC and BWI today. Here it is:

March 30, 2010 1 hour outside of SLC by air.

Flying is such an odd thing. I'm not talking odd in the respect that I am one of those people of the mindset that we weren't made to fly, therefore we weren't meant to fly. No, I'm talking odd in the respect that there are very few instances that I personally would choose to put myself willingly in a situation where I am surrounded by strangers and stand in line after line like a cow and am quite literally hearded- through the line to check-in, to the x-ray machine-where by the way- I leave all my belongings that I can fit into a space half the size of my bathtub; to be handled and thrown around by strangers-sometimes gone through with a fine tooth comb, only to be alerted to this by a kind, but required piece of paper once I've reached my destination.

Then I head for the security line, all the while checking monitors on my way for the right gate to proceed to. In this line we weave back and forth through the roped maze only to come out on the other side greeted by an unhappy TSA agent in a blue shirt with a blue flashlight verifying our "persons."

Let's see. For fun we will play eenie-meenie for which of the slow moving lines to get into next. After picking one it is time to start undressing- yes you read that correctly. Shoes off, jackets/bulky sweaters off, belts, jewelry. If you have it on, it must come off, unless you want to make repeat trips through the metal detector or want that oh-so-lovely pat down. It might just be easier to come to the airport in a bathrobe and dress for the day after this security line experience.

After making a few quick "browsing" stops I make it to my gate. Remarkably only about 45 minutes after being dropped off at the curb. Thank goodness.

I sit for a few minutes and am surrounded by people talking on cell phones thinking they are the only ones on the planet and talking so loudly that everyone knows their business. That they are tired of traveling with mother, that daughters wedding was just beautiful "they know how to throw a wedding here."

Then we stand in line to be hearded onto the plane. Since I have the luxury of flying Southwest, I have no assigned seat, only a letter and since the last time I flew this quirky airline, a number A 43- I checked in online almost 24 hours prior to my flight. Since I am in the 1st group and 43rd position I gather with all those similar to me. We make our way onto the plane where it is a free-for-all in picking seats. I look for one next to the window and over the wing-my preference. I am successful. I get settled in for the flight.

Upon arrival at SLC I deboard into an unfamiliar world, which is unusual because I have frequented this airport, been stuck in this airport. I wander around and find familiar grounds for me all the while trying to convince myself that I should spend $5 on 3oz of fruit or $9 on an outrageously small salad. I opt not too as I'm not hungry. I should have worked harder at convincing myself I was hungry-mind you, it was 12 noon in the time zone I woke up in and all I'd eaten since 6am was yogurt.

I make my way back to the unfamiliar where it feels like an oven and there is another heard. We line up in groups and by number again. I score another over the wing-window seat and settle in for the longest stretch of the trip. I look around at the barf bags, the safety cards, the Sky Mall magazine- all staples in the seat back pockets of any flight you take. The Sky Mall magazine contains some of the most random things a person could buy and I ask myself why? Why would someone spend $200, well $199.95 plus shipping and handling on a uCrown Head Massager that in all actuality looks like a conduit for aliens to zap out all the knowledge we earthly beings have acquired? Really? Like I have nothing better to spend $200+ on. Granted, there are some smart things-let me see if I can find one...okay, here it is- for only $69.95 + S & H you can have your very own Ultrasonic Barking Dog Deterrent, shaped like a bird house-because that won't confuse anyone or anything. Also, for the spy in you the Video Recording Sunglasses going for $199.95 + S & H might be the best bet.

By now my stomach is growling- peanuts don't cut it and I should have spent a small, but smart fortune on that fruit or salad- I've still got 2 hours to go. Then I will be hearded off the plane, will follow the crowds and find my way to baggage claim to retrieve my hastely sorted through belongings, assuming they made it across the country and then I will be united with my brother, the main reason I came on this crazy adventure! I'm glad I LOVE to travel and LOVE to fly-or this really could be misery.

Happy travels!

Sunset from the air, just east of Chicago.

When we finally made it to Josh's apartment I was greeted by Butters, my feline nephew. He thoroughly check my person and my belongings out.

Of course, I had to bring him some toys. He loves these fleece strings.

I HAVE ARRIVED! Happy vacation to me!

72 hours

And yes, the countdown has begun. In hours. It's more fun than days. DC here I come!

Now, on to all the stuff I need to get done before I can leave...wish me luck!

Does America Have Talent?

I'm not a big reality show television watcher. That includes shows like American Idol, The Bachelor, and America's Got Talent. So when Megan asked me if I'd like to go to a taping for America's Got Talent which was happening here in Portland I thought, "that could be fun, even though it isn't in my norm" and agreed to go. There was a group of four of us from work who headed downtown for the evening. There were four tapings in two days. We went to the final taping. There was a strict policy of clothing and shoes that could be worn and things you couldn't take in (cameras and cell phones primarily).

When we got downtown and got parked we headed to the theater and stood in line. It moved rather quickly. Julie hadn't brought anything with her. Smart woman. Joanna, Megan and I had brought our cell phones. Megan had run back to the car to put hers back. Joanna and I thought we'd stealthly hide them. Then when we got to the door they were collecting electronics. I crossed my fingers that they wouldn't discover my phone as they were "wanding" me with one of those wands they use at airports and such. We made it in and settled in for quite a few hours of both good and bad acts.

Things I learned this evening:
~Even if the ticket information states that you have to wear black or dark colors and flat black shoes and you don't, they will probably still let you in.
~If it says no cell phones or cameras, they mean it.
~If you still brought your phone you can indeed discreetly hide it; in bras and in shoes works well. And a good place to use it (for texting) is in the bathroom stall.
~You've got to have a lot of energy for cheering.
~They really do film all the scenes in odd sequences, like the opening of the show half way through the night.
~It isn't a good idea to have 20 Chihuahua's on stage.
~You should count, for fun, how many times you stand up and sit down. I felt like I was sitting/standing through a Catholic or Lutheran church service. Up and down and up and down. And up and down some more.

I really enjoyed the evening out and the experience of watching a show being filmed for television. Even though I don't generally watch reality shows, I will be watching America's Got Talent this season, since I was in the audience and all.

(hulu.com)

"I will not squander March on May, or throw away April in search of June." ~Jo

That comes from a friend and I love her words. Here is the segment in its entirety:

"I will stop. I will be still. I will be
here. And for goodness sake, I will stop fluttering around like it even matters
where I will be next year. Tomorrow has enough trouble, enough boxes, enough
square footage of its own.

I will not squander March on May, or throw away April in search of June. No.
No. No."

I should have read these words last week. Maybe. Then I might have been in a better mood. You see, last week, I was in a bad mood. Really. A very bad mood. You may ask why? It won't do much good. I asked all week. I never got an answer. I woke up Monday morning in a rotten mood. It persisted. All. Week. Long. It was miserable. I was short. I was tired. I was not someone that most people wanted to interact with. I made a comment one day and someone said, "tell us how you really feel." That was the problem. I was. And I wasn't censoring ANYTHING I said. Not that I usually have a problem with having to watch what I say. But when I am in a bad mood I think things that I wouldn't normally and therefore at times say things I shouldn't and wouldn't under normal circumstances. It is better in those instances that I just not talk. It was a long week. I was wishing for it to be over.

As I read the above passage I can't help but think that so often I wish my life away. I often wish that Monday would be Friday or that this month would be over, this event done. My wishing away is not always for a bad reason, like wishing for a sickness to pass or a bad mood to pass or a bad week to end more quickly. Many times I am wishing away time in anticipation of a good thing coming up...the holidays, a special event, a vacation. Nevertheless, I am wishing away my moments, my time.

Last week I was wishing away my bad mood, this week I am wishing away the time in anticipation of a vacation that I've been looking forward to for nearly a year. I wonder: If I wish away my time in anticipation of vacation will my vacation time speed along as quickly as I wish this time before it would pass? Unfortunately, I imagine that that will indeed be the case. My punishment for not enjoying the morning sun and evenings with friends more before the trip? For constantly rushing around trying to tie up loose ends? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe that is just how life goes. I remember as a young girl people always saying that time moves faster the older you get. Sadly, it does. And it is only, inevitably, going to move faster and faster. This morning I said: "two weeks from today I will be waking up on the other side of the country." This evening I thought: three weeks from today I will be waking up back on this side of the country. Goodness, let that week of time away take longer than last week felt.

Ode to my cat~

Yes, you did read that correctly. This is an ode to my cat, Ezme. I have had her for 2 years today. Now, just to clarify, I am not a crazy cat lady-I think there is some unspoken requirement that you have to have like 50 and never leave them...maybe (?). I am not the cat owner who must get home in time to feed the cat-she'll eat when I get there. I'm not the cat owner that collects all things cat-not my style. I am also, not a cat person, or I wasn't two years ago. Things change. Two years ago brought a new adventure for me-living on my own. I love living on my own, but hadn't ever lived alone until this point in time. I knew that there would be times I would be lonely-how could that not happen, even as introverted as I am. I also knew that I wasn't allowed to have a dog in the apartment I would be living in. (Truly, this didn't hurt my feelings. I'm not big on walking a pet daily, and I would feel bad having a dog couped up in an apartment and not having a yard for it to run in.) I began to wonder if I shouldn't get a cat...what?! Me, a cat. No way. I had been declining (actually, refusing to get a cat when asked by my roommate of three years-absolutely no cat).

Life changes. Minds change (especially mine). Hearts change. Situations change.

I started looking at websites. BAD websites, well--bad only in that they were fully loaded with cute, cuddly, four legged creatures that needed homes. It is an addiction. Seriously. Did you know that the Oregon Humane Society has a webcam in one of the cat rooms...bad news. Really bad. I looked at multiple agencies, in the end I settled on the Humane Society. Why? (confession #1-) I knew where it was. I know, I know--that really shouldn't matter (and partly, I am ashamed to admit this...confession #2- that webcam got me)...ouch.

Anywho, I kept thinking about those four-legged felines. I had NEVER been a cat person (except that one time when a stray adopted us and had 6 kittens in our garage...I loved mama cat and those kittens). I had multiple really bad experiences with one single cat. My grandparents had a cat, that to this day, I swear is a spawn of the devil--really. I could not walk into their home without being attacked, completely unprovoked I might add. This cat even had the nerve of jumping off a bookshelf onto my head with claws extended at one time. I hated that cat.

I transferred those feelings to all cats. I know--you can't judge a book by its cover and I shouldn't be racist, er, catist?!

I thought about all the things that I thought a person who was considering adopting a cat should think of...mainly-where will the litter box go and what color should the cat be. What else can there be, right!? Those are the important things. For.Sure.

With all my internet browsing I decided I liked the black cats (confession #3-black cat hair on the black pants that I most often wear to work would "blend" in...vain, I know, but I didn't want to spend all kinds of time needing to pick (really) visible cat hair off of my clothes-or at least not off my black pants). I did consider other colors, but I was drawn to the black cats. I was drawn to that Humane Society webcam.

I think I made 3, maybe 4 trips to the Humane Society. I looked at all the cats each time. Then I looked at all the cats again. I decided against a kitten, but also against an older cat. I wanted a post kittenhood cat, but one still young enough that I'd have lots of time with it. Then I got serious. I found the perfect cat "online." Her name was Regina. I was pretty sure she was the one. I went back to the Humane Society, for probably the fifth time, after work on a Friday. I asked to see Regina-wrong idea. She did not want to be touched...she hissed, clawed, puffed up her hair. Start over.

This time I couldn't do all the perusing online. I had to decide on the spot and I don't do well deciding things on the spot. I started looking again, at all the black cats. I found a few (3-two black and one very dark grey) that were options and we (one cat at a time and myself) were sent into a tiny room to "see how we do." Cat #1-cute, black, playful and she wanted to sit on my lap. Cat #2-cute, black, hid in the corner. Cat #3-cute, grey, not as cute as #1. Let's start again. #1-cute, black, playful, still wanted to sit in my lap and this time she eskimo kissed me. I decide that she would be the one. Her name-Ezme, yes, I liked the uniqueness of the name.

On to the paperwork. I was nervous the whole time. Wondering if I was doing the right thing (I do that often-over-analyze). I decided I just needed to do it. It was a big step. While they were reviewing my paperwork I kept thinking, "I could just say no. Leave now. That cat will never know the difference." I kept thinking that over and over until they called my name. I'd waited too long. The "interview" was nothing. The main question they asked is how much I expected to spend on a cat?...makes sense...they don't want to adopt out to people who don't realize the expense. I already had a vet lined up. This was okay. I could do this. I went to my car, got the carrier and headed back in. They loaded her up and away we went. I had yet to purchase any cat stuff as I had planned on just looking, putting a hold on a cat and picking it up Saturday. Oh well for plans.

I called the vet and scheduled an appointment before we left the lot. I game planned: going home, dropping the cat off and then heading to the store to get supplies, at least to get us through the night. The Humane Society staff had told me that when I got home to open the carrier door and let her take her time in coming out. It could take all night. When I returned from the store I opened the carrier and out she bolted (good sign #1). I was shocked. She immediately jumped up on my bed and rolled over on her back (good sign #2). Shocked, again. Her motor was running. She wouldn't eat, wouldn't drink, but wouldn't leave me alone. I was in a whole new world. A cat world. We didn't sleep much that night. When Ezme would lay down (which wasn't often) her motor was so loud and I was so un-used to purring that she'd wake me up. I figured that was good sign #3. We bonded over the weekend. I would wake up to her looking at me. That was weird and I sort of wondered if it was because her previous owner had died?! Who knows-she doesn't do it anymore.

We've been through a lot together in 2 years- one move, lots of vet visits, lots of medication, lots of litter trials and food trials (she has chronic sinusitus and has special food and litter, only after spending a small fortune on vet visits and antibiotics). Lots of trips to work-she is fabulous with my participants and she loves riding in the car. Flea baths-which were miserable for both of us. I love her. She is my very first, all mine, pet. No other will compare to her.

So, that was a long story, leading to the Ode to my Cat...if you readers are still with me: In honor of Ezme's 2 year anniversary with me I thought I'd put in writing the things I love about her.

I love that:
~she's got a motor, a strong one.
~she prefers drinking out of the bathroom sink or bathtub rather than her water dish.
~she likes to sleep on her own pillow between my head and the headboard of the bed.
~while she is sleeping above my head she likes to hug my arm when it is above my head.
~she sometimes wakes me up in the middle of the night by licking the same spot on my forehead-right in the middle.
~she prefers to sit on tissue paper or in boxes than on the plain old floor.
~when she grooms herself she gives herself a mohawk, a small one, but one nonetheless.
~she tolerates me hugging her.
~she greets me at the door when I come home.
~she sits outside with me when I am reading.
~she curls up on my shoulder, especially when I am having a rough day.
~she sits on the edge of the tub between the shower curtain and liner when I am in the shower.
~she chases her tail.
~she likes to sit in the closet.
~she knows if she shoves her toys under the oven/stove that I will get down on my knees to get them out- over and over and over again.
~her favorite toys aren't the store bought cat toys, but the caps from water bottles and drinking straws.
~she likes having her own blanket on the couch.
~she doesn't like to sit in the windows.
~she likes laying on her back-a lot with her paws up in the air.
~she is particularly needy in the morning-when I don't have time to pay lots of attention to her.
~she is so proud when she kills a moth or bug on the balcony.
~she "talks" a lot.
~she likes to ride in the car.

~she loves to eat rice pudding (one particular brand) and she knows when I am opening those containers over the opening of other containers in similar size/material/etc.

~her ears get hot when she has been running around.

~she likes to play in the bathtub.
~she does so well when I take her to work.

Ezme, I'm lucky to have ended up with such a great feline in my life. I will forever be spoiled with this experience. Here's to many more years with you!

What is on your refrigerator door?!

I spend a lot of time in my kitchen. I love to cook. I spend a lot of time looking at my refrigerator. I opened this post and titled it a little bit ago, as I had been thinking a lot about what a particular person/family puts on their fridge. Today, I will write it, as I am currently listening to the maintanence man scrape, scrape, scrape the seal off of my front door. There has been a mold problem. Not a big one, but an annoying one...so alas, here I sit at my dining room table trying to decide what to do while Ezme is locked in my bedroom, upset about that situation and my maintanence guy scrapes. BTW, that seal he just took off...yeah, he is guessing it is at least 10 years old, pretty sure it was time for it to be replaced. I'm also being thankful that it is a beautiful sunny day and I would have all the doors open anyway...it would be darn cold in here otherwise...

On to my thoughts:

I grew up in your "typical American house." Four walls, a roof and loaded with appliances. I was always thankful for those appliances. Stove/oven to cook/bake things without the need for fire, firewood, etc, washer/dryer...no wash boards and only periodically clotheslines used-and optional.

Then there is the refrigerator. It is really the only appliance that takes on the personality of the person who owns it or the family it supports. This is because it contains, on its exterior the accomplishments and personality of people. It proudly displays report cards, "A" tests, pictures of growig kids and family friends. There are pictures that kids have drawn, painted, etc. Magnets-fun ones that are letters, cartoon characters, etc. There are chore lists, grocery lists, emercengy contact lists. And a multitude of other things.

My fridge is a place of distinction. It holds things that are dear to me: pictures of families that are friends, the newest kids that have entered my life through friends. There is a picture of Max, the family dog residing in Wyoming with Mom. There are comics, my favorite one saying "If the only prayer you say in your life is thank you, that would suffice." ~Meister Eckhart. I have a finger painting that one of my dearest old ladies painted and with pride handed it over for me to proudly display. I've got an assortment of magnets, one containing a recipe or Paella that a friend brought back from Spain. There are thank-you notes, my horoscope for the year, an itinerary for my Moms travels-it is old, I should take it down. I have a grocery list-I can't remember the last time I used it when shopping. I have the date "May 2012" written in fun colors and font-the time I plan to travel with a friend to NYC. It is good for me to have that as a reminder. A tangable date to be excited for. I've got comp tickets for the Japanese Garden that a friend handed over to me at least a year ago...I wonder how old they are and if they are still good?! I've got a weekly calendar that I can date as I need to when I have crazy busy weeks and might forget to go somewhere or do something.

Someday I hope to have pictures that my kids paint, report cards that they bring home and more pictures of my ever growing network of friends and their lovely families.

My question is: why do we put those types of things on the fridge? Why not the bills, recceipts, etc? I think it completely has to do with wanting to look at happy things. Things to look forward too or remember some moment captured on film. Those are the things I like to look at. Fridges come in a variety of ways now-with ice/water dispensers, side-by-side doors, top freezer/bottom fridge, bottom freezer/top fridge, mini fridge, old fashioned looking fridge. A friend of mine recently got a special order fridge that had to be shipped up here from California, custom-made, isn't magnetic at all- what a shame.

“What three things do you want to accomplish this year? Write them down and place them on your refrigerator for inspiration all year long.” ~Unknown

What do you have hanging on your refrigerator?

February Poem of the Month

Funeral Blues
W.H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Commercialized Holiday's are Evil

Let me set the scene: It is Friday night, I am at Safeway. I am determined to get in, get out and to do it with nothing but "healthy" foods. I'm not crazed or anything, but earlier in the evening I succumbed and depressingly put on my "fat jeans." No big deal, some might say, but distrubing to me. Thankfully, they are still a bit too big for me. I had packed these jeans away 3 years ago when I started losing so much weight when I was deathly ill. And I don't use "deathly" lightly-I really felt that bad. This was pre-Celiac diagnoses and I was essentially starving to death, "wasting away," was the oh-so-not-medical-term my doctor used. At that time I ate constantly, there are people that can vouch for and verify that. I really was wasting away, and not by my choice. Like I said, I ate constantly. And when I wasn't eating I was saying I was hungry and thinking about what I was going to eat next. These food-focused thoughts and actions were explained later when it was discovered exactly how much my body needed ANY nourishment at all and the way the body does that is by eating.

Anywho, this week my stomach has been particularly bothering me and for the life of me I don't know why. I haven't eaten any glutens. Then, much to my semi-elation, I realized this evening, as I was feeling fat and frumpy and putting on those oh-so dreaded fat jeans that maybe it isn't that I've gained back that much weight, weight gain, yes, that much-maybe not. I think it is my poor bloated belly. No, REALLY! I haven't really felt well, or right all week. The one change?! I haven't been eating my morning dose of yogurt with those good-for-your-belly probiotics. Could that really be the answer to my distended stomach, my feeling of illness and the ened for those fat jeans? Sally, a friend from work would be elated to hear those words come out of my mouth and she preaches probiotic supplements. Maybe she has a really good point.

Off to the grocery store I go. I was going to stock up on yogurt. I'm not so crazed that I will go probiotic shopping, but if, after a few days eating my yogurt again I feel better and more 'normal'- maybe then I will consider going gang busters with the probiotics.

Now, back to the original point of this post. Commercialized holiday's are evil. While I was minding my own picking-out-my-fruits and vegetables business I look up to see stacks and stacks of candy, Easter candy. In my mind I begin to think, "wasn't Valentine candy just out," yes, and before then "wasn't all the Chistmas candy and junk food out," yes. And it goes on, all the way back to October, 5 months ago, and the beginning of candy/junk food holiday overload. Yuck. Sort of makes my stomach ache right now. And never mind I consumed about my weight in M&M minis this past weekend, and then we had a lovely, but troubled afternoon at work that included a table full of mostly sugar-filled junk food and a chocolate fountain, and I have scheduled and followed through with lunch/dinner dates with many friends that I am trying to get caught up with. It all spells no-good for me. Oh my goodness. I was proud that I steered very clear of the danger zone and made it out and home safely with a bag full of good-for-me foods tonight. I think I need to have one of those 'body detox programs' or something, and it better be something good.

In the meantime, I think I will go for a walk since the rain has stopped and I need to get my new shoes broken in for all the walking I'll be doing in just over a month when I venture to the other side of the country to see my brother, who bless him, is excited when he gains weight.

Tata for now.

Download Complete

I finally did a download of the pictures on my camera. Some of them were over a month old...oops.

Enjoy...

This last week I took a group of my folks on an outing to the Columbia Gorge Interpretive Center in Stevenson, WA. The drive was absolutely amazing!

Bridge of the Gods (crossing from the Oregon side to the Washington side of the Columbia River)

I often forget about going into the Gorge when I feel like going for a drive. With these views, I need to remedy that.

Ezme would like to wish you a Happy Spring!

Myles would like to remind you that phone books are a wonderful thing...you can look all kinds of things up in them, or what is more fun is tearing them apart, page by page by page!

Ezme went to work with me last week and modeled what many of us may like to do on a long day at work: the nap. Yes, she is right on top of my paperwork and I can just see over her to the computer monitor.

The sunrises have been phenomenal as of late.

I got myself in trouble a couple of years ago at work. I started decorating these doors for the specific holiday/event we were celebrating. Now I am in deep. It is nice to have my creative side come out occassionally. This was my Valentine Month decoration.

At work we have sort of adopted a school for homeless kids. We supplied the Valentines for them and the goodies for their parties this year. This was my trunk before we delivered the goodies.

When I came out of church this morning the sun was shining. It was beautiful. This was a tree that had water droplets and I couldn't pass it without taking a picture. It was gorgeous.

How many pictures do you have on your camera that you need to download? (My count was 225, though some of them were duplicates. Time to delete!)

Writer's Block

As established earlier, I love words, so again I go to the dictionary, well, the next best thing: Wikipedia:

"Writer's block is a condition, associated with writing as a profession, in
which an author loses the ability to produce new work. The condition varies
widely in intensity. It can be trivial, a temporary difficulty in dealing
with the task in hand. At the other extreme, some "blocked" writers have
been unable to work for years on end, and some have even abandoned their
careers."

Now, I am the the furthest thing from a professional writer, so maybe I should title this post as "Blog Block." I think, 'oh I could blog about that', or 'if I was to blog about this I would say this.' I could blog about many things, or at least 3 things: 1) there is a school I pass daily and their marquee states at this time that there is an event called Mandatory Fun...I want to know how they get that to happen in a school! :) 2) Ezme is on a roll right now. She has strewn a multitude of tissue paper about the living room and has discovered a secret to me stash of batteriesthat she has also removed from their respective location and places throughout the apartment; 3) I could reflect, as the 2010 Winter Olympics begin, on my trip to Vancouver and Whistler. That trip is now approaching a passing of 5 1/2 years ago and other Olympic experiences that I have had.

Maybe, just maybe I'll touch on each thing. Warning though: this is uninspired and now that I have warned you I don't take responsibility for what you continue to read.

1) Mandatory Fun: yes, I need to find out more about that. Cracks me up each morning as I drive by.

2) Ezme has always been, or at least in the time I've had her; an odd cat. She lives playing with metal, plastic, weird things. She loves hard cardies in the wrapper--for the crinkly wrapper, not the sugar. She has carried metal rods and writing utensils around, bringing each of those to bed with me while I sleep. Right now she has a fascination with batteries. Must mean I really need to address my closet, where it looks as though a tornado has been spinning around.

3) Right before I began my Senior year in college I went camping with Holly and Leonard, someone she was working with at the time. We had decided we wanted to camp in Canada. I had never been to Canada. I was excited to leave the country. We left Portland early in the morning, it was going to be a long drive. We, or I should say I, barely got through the border...something about an alert out for my arrest. I'd been skirting the authorities since I was in Wyoming...SO KIDDING! Did I have you there for a moment, even a small one?! Oh, goodness. Anyway, we got to Vancouver BC and decided to have a stop off to walk around. We needed to take a break from sitting in the car--it had been a long drive, even with the break at the border.

Vancouver was a beautiful city. I was mesmerized by the buildings, the water, the mountains. All seemed to be in harmony with the others. Holly and I joked that it would be funny if one of us had a house in Vancouver BC and one of us had a house in Vancouver WA. Not all that obscure, at the time anyways. Unlikely now. Though I'd go back in a heartbeat to that seemingly wonderful city.

We stopped at a gelato shop, where I had the best gelato, the gelato that I shall compare all other gelatos to: the French Kiss. My two favorite things combined: hazelnuts and chocolate. I have tried many other hazelnut/chocolate gelato combos and none compare. We gathered up our gumption to get back in the car and navigate the oh-so-confusing roadways of this big Canadian city, with their metric mileage system and speed limits. As we were driving we kept running into road construction. We couldn't figure out what they were doing. It later occurred to us that they were widening this two lane highway into a four lane highway to accomodate for the increase in traffic between Vancouver and Whistler when the Olympics arrived. At that time (August 2004), 2010 seemed like a LONG ways off. How quickly it has approached.

We made it to Squamish. Squamish-that is a fun thing to say...kind of like sqweemish, but not quite. This seemed to be a sleepy, lazy sort of town. A nice feel. We stopped for grocery supplies. It was weird to pay in a different currency. It felt funny going grocery shopping in another country. We had stocked the car with non-perishables before leaving the U.S. We then added our perishables to it. We had decided on a yummy menu for our time in the great Canadian 'wilderness.' Spaghetti, eggs, sausage, hashbrowns, burgers. I can't remember what else. People looked at us like we were crazy when we later told them we had spaghetti while camping. It was delicious though.

It was a dry year, fires were forbidden-that equated to no smores, nor any hot dogs roasted over the fire. No crackling wood sounds as we sat around the fire. No, camp lanterns don't, under normal circumstances, provide that crackling sound or the campfire smell. We would have a grand time, nonetheless. We headed north to the Paradise Valley Campground located midway between Squamish and Whistler. It was run by a husband and wife and was only in its second season. It was beautiful in all its rusticness. They did have the wonderful luxury of a restroom and a little 'general store.' They were a sweet and amicable couple, offering any information we may be seeking.

There was a beautiful river that ran nearby, we ventured over to see it. It was a gorgeous color. We ventured up to Whistler--beautiful place. Absolutely beautiful. I decided on that day that I would return someday and curl-up in a big chair by the fireplace in one of the over-priced lodge appearing hotels. Someday, I will. I could have spent more time in this quaint area. Being August and all, of course there were no ski lifts/runs open, but this rugged terrain doubled as biking and hiking trails in the less snow filled seasons. The mountains were breathtaking. I grew up in the U.S. Rockies, which I must say, hold no comparison to the Canadian Rockies. None. There was construction going on in Whistler, again in preparation for the Olympic games that are now upon us. It will be interesting to see the changes when I do make it up that far north again.

That trip was amazing to me. We sat by the unfireside and gazed at stars. I grew up in a state with few lights from large cities and saw a lot of stars in my time. I spent nights on a deck of a ship in the middle of an ocean. And I can't remember seeing stars like I saw in Canada. The Australian accents of the people working at Whistler were fun. The maple syrup I bought and brought home was fabulous. The line to get back into the U.S. was long, the people waiting were getting out of their cars and playing in the grass that was roadside. We had the windows down and were singing (and motioning--in the car and spilling out the car windows) to the YMCA song. People around us proabably thought we were nuts. They probably were glad to send us back to our home country. By the way, getting back into the country was easier than getting out. That was another time, before passports were required in order to cross the U.S./Canada border. The drive back to Portland seemed like an eternity. I was never so happy for a shower as when I got one after arriving back to campus. I should look for the pictures. Yes, that would be good.

That was a fun trip. Yes, I could go back, and I'd even pass on the comfy chair by the fire in the lodge-like setting for another few nights of sleeping on the ground in a campground just outside of Squamish BC. Right now, at this age anyway. Give me a few years and I may not even consider getting anywhere near a sleeping bag on the ground no matter where I would be camping. I hope that is a ways off!

Mountains at Whistler

Today, I am content/happy.

content (adjective)-satisfied with what one is or has; not wanting more or anything else.

happy (adjective)-characterized by or indicative of pleasure, contentment, or joy.
(dictionary.com)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When I started this blog I had decide whether I wanted to use the word content or the word happy...so I went to the dictionary. I love dictionaries. I love words. Therefore, I love dictionaries. I also love thesaurus'. I digress. So sorry.

I have decided that I will say I am content. Yes, circle that one. I am more content with that word. (heehee). Especially considering that "content" is used to define happy. In my brain I would assign the word happy to an event. I would be happy about a special day, a big milestone. I am content when there are no big milestones, no particular events, no out-of-the-ordinary special days, as everyday is special in its own way. No, nothing like that. I am just content. Content is a grand way to be. I want nothing more, I want nothing less, I want to enjoy life; right where I am, right at this moment.

Right at this moment I am sitting in the sun, with my cat in my lap (sorta hard to type). I am listening to good, soulful music. I have returned from my morning worship and sermon at church and a glorious dinner of corned beef and cabbage is simmering on the stove. The dishes are all done, the groceries put away.

Right at this moment I am remembering the giggles from last night as I blew on a little ones cheek, making funny noises; all while enjoying the company of a dear friend talking "lists of thing to do," baking/frosting sugar cookies, and just enjoying the time together.

Right at this moment I am reveling in the thought that my storage unit is super clean after being emptied, swept and re-organized. I am anticipating going on a walk, wondering what new signs of spring I will be seeing.

Right at this moment I am anticipating the week ahead, full of time with friends, time alone, time; while reflecting on times past with friends and family and those who are dear to me.

Yes, right now I am content. I smile a sly smile just because. May these moments of contentment remain.

January Poem of the Month

Ring Out The Old, Ring In The New
by Alfred Tennyson, 1850

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife,
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweet manners, purer laws.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.