Last Day.

Well...here we are again. If you're on of those people, like me, who spends most of their year writing papers, answering questions, and sharpening pencils, you know what i'm talking about. And, unless you've already started school, you would recognize today as the "Last Day of Freedom." Or something like that. Or maybe you think of it as Labor Day...which i think is how the rest of the population recalls it...hmm....

Anyway.

Many spend their day out trying to catch a few more rays of sunlight before they must subject themselves to winter paleness. (unless you're one of those people with perpetual tanness- you know who you are) Obviously, I spend my last day writing to you guys..you guys should be grateful. :) But i do not mourn my lost summer days. Indeed, I like to think like Dr. Seuss:

"Don't cry because it's over
Smile because it happened."

I'm ready to move on. I hate the heat and humidity. Fall is coming soon which, for me, means jeans, hoodies, bonfires, s'mores, pumpkin carving, all that jazz.

Oh, and i thought I'd share this song...It's been on my mind a lot lately. 

This is a really short post, but...i think it suffices.

decisions, decisions, decisions oh and Miracle Max

People. They’re practically everywhere. In constant motion, crawling along the planet’s surface. And unless you choose to become something of a hermit and move to a place virtually uninhabited like the Sahara or Antarctica (neither of which, however, do I recommend due to the fact that each is a highly inconvenient place to start a community by yourself) they’re inescapable.

It’s interesting to think about the way people think, if you think about it. Why people make the decisions they make, and what effects they have, and what would have happened had they made a different choice. And why they didn’t take that path in the first place.For instance, why the figurative fellow in the car next to me chose to wear such an ugly shade of eye shadow, or why the person next to him chose to buy a Mt. Dew in a plastic bottle when, obviously, it tastes much more refreshing out of a glass bottle. Or why they’re even in the car at all. I almost want to dress en costume as Miracle Max, knock on their windshield and cry out 

"Hey! Hello in there. Hey! What's so important? What you got here that's worth living for?"

Maybe not those exact words, but you get the idea.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, unbeknown to me, the man in the eggplant-colored eye shadow is on his way to a volunteer educational play about Hidden Valley. The person beside him bought the plastic bottle beverage out of the convenience of having lid; and had I knocked on the windshield, the sight of me dressed up as Miracle Max would’ve given him such a fright that, had he not had said convenient cap, he would’ve thrown his Mt. Dew up in the air, sloshing our eggplant friend and creating a landslide of runny eye shadow. Thus, making him late for his play, and all the little kiddos would have to go home disappointed.

But what really induced them to make such decisions I’ll probably never know. And we’re only three out of billions of humans out there, making choices that could change the face of history or life as we know it. But thankfully, we’re not alone in this big universe. God’s got our past, present, and future all in the palm of his hand. Each of our billions of either brilliant or incredibly stupid choices happening at the same time; he sees them all. We don’t have to worry about the future, because he’s got it all. Thanks God :)

Have fun storming the castle :)

wigs and mountain tops

Moths flutter noiselessly around the lights attached to the roof of the wooden wrap-around porch while the sound of the cricket’s and cicada’s raspy overture floats along the chilly evening breeze. Lights twinkle cheerily through the trees. But best of all, the smooth roll of Blue Ridge is unfolding before me in glorious spectrum. The massive mounds of earth slice into the fading sky, making it seem as if it’s just us, our rented log cabin, and the mosquitoes. In the middle of nowhere.

Montagnes. Mountains. The word would have the same meaning in any language.  It means winding roads, steep cliffs, beautiful glades, and views that take your breath away, tearing it from you, twisting it around, and carrying it off into the sunshine like crisp autumn leaves, or a certain wig that a strange neighbor that you don’t particularly like gave to you as a birthday present. 

 

Grandfather Mountain was, in a word, incredible. After strutting across the swinging, mile-high bridge, we scrambled along the top of the craggy cliff top. To the left and below, the winding road curled around like a lock of light blonde hair with highlights down the mountain. To the right, the ledge jutted out and disappeared in the grey, foggy, nothingness. 

Mile-high bridge

 

After walking down the trail to the parking lot while mom and dad drove with the little ones, and having an incredible encounter with a certain white tale doe and her fawn, we endeavored to undertake the Black Rock trail. I must say, it was quite a feat to behold, taking a hike with two three-year-olds, but it was worth it. There were viewpoints along the trail where you had to cling to the cable like a monkey and pull yourself along a ginormous boulder. To the panorama no words or pictures could do justice. But I will say that Marianne’s words for Sense and Sensibility came to mind:

“Is there any felicity in the world superior to this?”

Blowing rock was, although fun, a bit mediocre. I think the legend-person who jumped off like a million years ago died…there was not enough gust to support a very light feather- let alone a full-grown warrior…but that’s just a matter of opinion. The town of blowing rock was pleasant. So different from back home. Shops and cute cafés line Main Street. Residents congregate in the park and content customers loiter on cast iron benches as they happily slurp their pastel ice cream cones. 

For some reason, we always seem to gravitate towards mountains as our get-away. For some people, it’s the coast they turn to as refuge from life’s craziness, for others it’s the hustle and bustle of big cities they enjoy. But for us as a family (I mean, I think I’d enjoy anything), and I’m sure for many other people, we seem to feel closer and more at home when we’re in danger of slipping and plummeting off a cliff, or when we’re lying on our stomachs on a precipice, holding our faces out over the edge to feel the exhilarating breeze. Or when we’re standing a mile high at the top of a mountain; shut out from the rest of the world in a foggy cloud.

But good dreams eventually come to an end, and we begin descending the winding roads. Let the cow counting begin.

Clown shoes and carousels

Adventures can take you anywhere. They are enticing occasions that can take you from the sultry cabin of a coal-guzzling locomotive, to a hard, jutting peak in the Himalayas slicing the sky, to the gut of an aircraft, plucking conveniently salty peanuts out of their crinkly gold packaging while scribbling furiously in a deliciously old and rumpled notebook. Which is where you find me, yet again. On my way back home sweet home. 

Ah, Florida. It was grand to see it again. Although, I’ll admit, I thought flying was a bit strange. You see, I’m used to driving the whole long fourteen hour journey south in our good ol’ blue club wagon with the rest of the clan, where changes along the road come gradually. But flying, oh no, you land and, whoa, there’s palm trees, like, EVERYWHERE. But that’s just culture shocked little ol’ me.  ^_^
                Anyway. I decided I’m not going to record my adventure play-by-play, but I’ll just give a description, in case you’re interested 

Twice, we went to the beach, where the clear emerald surf crashed its white foamy mass over the sandy coast. The shells shone like time-worn pebbles on the grainy bottom. Pelicans soared overhead. It was gorgeous. The sunburn? Not so much.

                At the Brunswick harbor lanes we pulled on those funny clown shoes, tugging at the greasy laces. Then we bowled a good five games or so. Phil creamed me in like every game. But it’s all good. 

Don't they look like clown shoes?

                Driving down US 1, we visited some relatives and swam in their pool (FAIL of the day…stepped on my sunglasses and cracked them…oh well), and then strolled down to the fish and gator-infested river.  (Well, I’m not so sure about the gators, but you never know …) 

River :)

Grandma :)

                Ah. And we went to the chocolaty cocoa beach, where the crowds surf, swim, play volleyball, or just stroll along the shore. Oh, and we went to Ron Jon Surf Shop. That place is incredible! It’s like a beach version of Dick’s Sporting Goods. No joke. It’s an extraordinary place with a medley of souvies and hard-core surfing equipment, from key chains to wetsuits.

Need i say more?

Ron Jon Surf Shop ♥

Welcome to Cocoa

But most of all, we had opportunities to visit family, which is most important in my book.

One day we had dinner with my uncle, or, my dad’s “older brother’s little brother.” As they like to put it.  And then Tuesday we drove two hours across to Lakeland and had lunch at steak and shake (I think it was my first time) with cousins, whom, I might add, we hadn’t seen in AGES.

"He makes this really funny face when he bites into a lemon.."

Me and Sierra :)

___________

So even though Florida was marvelous I can’t wait to touch back down, hug the fam, stand in line at the carousel and wait for my overstuffed suitcase to come around the corner. Question. Why do they call it a carousel? 

That’s a carousel.

That’s a baggage-goes-around-in-a-circle-so-people-can-watch-it-and-find-their-bags-after-they-go-around-a-million-times-thingamajig. 
 Why do they call it a carousel just because it goes around in a circle?

anyway.

I know I was only gone a week and a half, but it felt great to step into the terminal in our tiny little airport (the one in Orlando is like a mall) and power walk down the familiar mermaid-adorned carpet and see family at the end of the long corridor. Thanks for reading.

-yours etc.

Peculiar places: airports

I'm writing this to you in a notebook while reclining in the belly of a SouthWest Airliner. Below, me, the fluffy avalanche of Toy Story clouds spill across the face of the earth, like someone had gone crazy with the shaving cream or something. Beside me, the sun glints off the tip of the blue and red wing. The little girl in front of me peaks between the seats at my scribbling, but turns away when i glance up. Above, the sapphire sky canopies safely all around. The flight attendants hand out complimentary snacks, and soon the scent of salty peanuts spreads like butter through the cycled air. Airports are peculiar places. Most of us have entered them at one time or another. Either for the arrival or departure of a loved one, or for our own means of travel. I think they're peculiar because they're pretty much the only place where people come together at one time from all the corners of the world and congregate in one place. each with their individual stories. And it's the start of something big. Something that 200 years ago was said to be impossible. That's why it's peculiar. Strange. Unusual. As we said goodbye, scanned our boarding passes and walked down the terminal, I felt a mixture of excitement and fear swirling around me. we put our bags in the overhead bins and grab a pair of seats. And this is where you find me. So i'll just munch my over-salted peanuts and anticipate our landing in Orlando.

umbrellas and fairytales

It's been a while since i have written a rainy-day post...today seems like a good day for one :)

 i must admit, summer rains and thunderstorms can be quite refreshing. unless, of course, they get in the way of plans. However i find them long-awaited respites from the sultry seasonal heat waves, As the sun's rays find their way through the soupy clouds and, upon peeking through, shine on the falling droplets, they make them sparkle and glisten before falling into tepid puddles on the ground. Your own backyard can be transformed into a wonderland.

Once upon  a time, when i was little, i scrambled up into one of the short, yet seemingly sky-scraping maple trees in the backyard. Daydreaming, i sat there for what seemed like hours as the summer shower cascaded around me, while the tree branches created a safe umbrella above. My childish self fantasized a make-believe game of sorts, that soon had me enveloped in its whimsical tale. I eventually awakened to the thought that if i stayed out too long, i would be missed and cause worry. Slowly, I clambered down out of the tree. Gripping the final branch, i pushed off against the slim trunk with my unshod feet. Upon releasing my hold, I parachuted back down to Planet Earth, landing on the flagstone behind our backdoor with a thud. Rushing up the steps, my feet whispering against the damp, mossy bricks, I swung open the doors to find my world safe and secure. But it was not without some dissapointment, as I found I had unnecessarily left my capsule that had carried me back in time, only to find life continuing as usual and without interuption.

That was many years ago. We have long since moved, and times have changed. Unfortunately, our new backyard is very lacking in the sort of trees that are good for climbing when it is rainy, so i must settle for something else. But what this activity lacks in excersize, it most certainly makes up for with its probability of presenting tales of dashing heroes, mischievous escapades, and swashbuckling adventures that leave you breathless. Rainy summer days are the perfect time to switch off the tele, pour yourself a piping hot cuppa, don your largest hoodie and snuggle into a worn, but pricelessly comfortable sofa, or, even better, take your tea and hoodie into a closet with a bare 100-watt bulb hanging suspended from the ceiling (if there is no light present, a flashlight would do just as well.) Pull the string attached to the bulb, illuminating your little cave. Closing the door behind you, curl up on the floor with a thick and deliciously tantalizing time-worn volume. Let yourself escape the elverlasting grip of time, while the patter of raindrops splattering on the roof above serenades the adventures unfolding before your mind's eye.

 After scanning each dog-eared musty and yellowed leaf, you will surely find yourself turning them with all haste, while anticipating the next dripping phrase awaiting you on the following page. You let the story spirit you away to a place that is untouched by the troubles of your world. You let it carry you off, to a 'land lost in time.'

Enjoy the weather. I'm off to go paint. Or try to paint. I tend to get more paint in my hair than on the walls. Sometimes i wonder if i should just try to paint my hair, and then it'll actually get on the intended surface. So long :)

Choosing to accept what we have

We pull open the glass doors and are greeted by a blast of cool air. There is a wonderful lack of humidity in the building.  we walk along the white hallway, the carpeted floor softening our steps. We find the correct room, and enter. Several people are standing around chatting. Thoughts like

 i don't know anyone here.

 i don't want to be here.

 All i wanted was to go to a basketball game.

are running through my head. I sit down in the second row from the front, clutching my army-green backpack. Eventually everyone takes their seats, and they begin. People glance around them as a few more straggle in. I try to listen to what the people are saying, but more of my thoughts keep flooding in. I try to push them aside, but I'm only partially successful.

The people at the front continue to talk, and my mind weakens a little as they tell us about their experiences. I must admit, i did find it interesting, but to be honest, i didn't want to be interested. I wanted to rebel.
 


They ended it, and began praying. All i wanted was to get out of there, but i was angry with myself for thinking that. I wanted to want to stay there and participate, if that makes sense, but i still did not want to. I felt apathetic and i hated it. i knew i should feel differently about this whole scenario, but i didn't.

What i realize now is, that if we rebel, and do not accept what we have and choose to make the best of it, then our mind will not let us enjoy the time we are given. These people just sacrificed a huge portion of their lives to help other people, and i was begrudging them two hours of my time. I wasn't letting go of my wish to be at another place. I knew i was wrong, but i did not stop myself. Now i realize that that's the way we would constantly be without Christ. And now I'm thankful more than ever that we don't have to always be like that. Thankfully, we can change.