I am so grateful for my family, my work, my love. For luck. For laughter. For new adventures. For a new home. For magic.
Monday, November 10, 2014
Friday, November 7, 2014
Friday, July 18, 2014
Where the 2 rivers meet
Rough sand underfoot
I waited until fire centre released me
And the heat of the day had gone
Cool, twilit evening
Just me and the dark water
Nothing else under the surface
Fresh, swift current
Tinkling laughter echoes in the distance
Twisting, diving and dolphin kicks
Liberated, joyful dance
Last night I left the river after dark
Twinkling lights reflected
I return always, to water
Friday, November 22, 2013
It is just over 6 months since I met my love. And just under 6 months since he rolled into my heart. And now I have just 6 days until he comes home. Tomorrow will be 6 weeks since he left. I guess I am good at counting. Sometimes. I think my mind enjoys finding patterns like mnemonics to help me remember.
My love says he is terrible at remembering things like anniversaries and birthdays. I think he must be lying just so he has an out to avoid trouble that one awful awful time when he does get so caught up that he forgets something key. I think he is also telling me that he doesn't mind if I am a little less than subtle when I want to remind him of something important to me. Fair game. But he does remember. He counts better than I do sometimes. Like how many sleeps til he gets back to me. And bus trips I am supposed to take. I don't mind if he wants to encourage the illusion of his poor memory - it was a survival mechanism he needed in another lifetime. I too have my own baggage I am trying to burn.
I don't mind if he forgets numbers sometimes because I know he remembers so many of the important things (most of the time). Like the kind of wine I like. And how to reach out for me when we are driving together in the car. How to turn around and wave to me as he disappears through airport security. How I love to talk with him as often as possible. How I appreciate my toes not being neglected. How to treat my family with respect. How to have a conversation without it devolving into an argument. How to treats me with such respect. How to laugh with me. How to quote Buzz Lightyear.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Thursday, November 26, 2009
I took a couple of weeks to visit my brothers back in October. I escaped the then-icy Alberta mountains for our great Nation's Capital - and the French town across the river. Jeremy and Maria Teresa live in Gatineau which is right across the river from Ottawa. I'd never been there before so I enjoyed wandering around Parliament, lots of museums and markets. The three of us had an intimate Canadian Thanksgiving dinner together. Tepita was stoked I was there because it was an excuse to get some turkey! My brother continues to be vegetarian. I do not.
An old friend from Camp Big Canoe came to visit and we all went to explore a quaint nearby village, complete with covered bridge and steam train.
Dale and I later visited the Gatineau Hills where an extraordinarily competetive game of Hide and Seek was attempted and where we spied a super cute beaver couple hard a work.
I next flew onto Raleigh, North Carolina to see the other brother and his brood. Amy, their daughters Maddie and Kate, and I enjoyed the state fair. Let me rephrase that. Amy and I dragged the girls around as we ate everything in sight, save for the giant turkey leg (I like white meat). Ok, not entirely true, Maddie went on rides galore and my Beirut prowess won her a Nemo. Kate was happy to snooze and chug formula.
But Amy and I did eat more than our fair share of fair food. Mmmmmmm. I got to spend a lot of time over my visit bonding with Kate, and I consider it just good fortune - not great skill - that she seemed to be a calm and settled baby while I visited.
We all went for a great hike in the woods and I felt like I was chasing the changing of leaves. I got them in Alberta, Ontario and North Carolina. Fabulous timing!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
I've had such wonderful, fabulous and torturous beauty in my life. It all comes in varying degrees with such random backdrops.
Last night I went outside here at the heliport. Not sure why as I should've been asleep and it was after midnight. But I did and found a scene that moved me deeply. The almost full moon and the clouds that whipped by in the wind left me awestruck and melancholy but smiling. I thought of folk cozied up in warm winter beds and of other adventurers holed up on precipices that alternated between shadow and bright moonrays.
Tonight I went outside again and - of course - could not capture the same exquisite feeling as yesterday but I got thinking about love and beauty. About the glorious moments in my life that I never want to forget. There are, and I hope will be, many more than I'll type up tonight but I ought to do what I can to maintain the amazing memories. In no particular order.
Ras al Hadd - I think - the Omani coast anyway, on the beach of turtles. Late in the afternoon, it felt like, and I was in the rustic changeroom / bathroom. I remember so clearly fabulous Anne. She must've been lathering me up with sunblock - so perhaps it was early in the morning - and she made some comment about my youthful skin. I felt years of memories and such poignant yearning in her voice as she touched my shoulder. I could not have understood what she felt, and likely still cannot but I knew enough to know that I would one day. I never felt more beautiful than she made me feel right then, though I knew it was mostly because I was young. I learned then what I must appreciate - even though I was about 15 and like every other 15 year old so terribly critical of my self. As Jack Nicholson may say: THIS is as good as it gets.
Riding a bike - tipsy and giddy - down London streets in the middle of the night. Laughing with a fellow heart.
Seeing the whole sky of stars reflected in the surface of Lake Okanagan. Finding my constellation and making a wish for both images.
Dodging wisps of clouds on a crisp and dreamlike morning flight.
Watching the sun go down and the stars begin to twinkle with my dad on a boat in Indonesia.
Listening to 2 boys slyly rock out in my last class of ground school - made me laugh and laugh and still laugh now when I think about it.
Playing musical 'stones' in Oruchinga and tickling a small boy child nestled on my lap, watched him howl and howl with glee, with no effort made to escape my torturing fingertips.
Playing hide and seek in too tall grass on a too wonderfully warm fall afternoon.
A blood red sun setting in the background as I gazed at beauty in a friend's face after my first day down the Nile.
Being carried to bed by both of my giggling brothers after falling asleep watching a movie - when I was far too old and big to warrant being carried to bed anymore.
Wearing baby cake's old blue running shirt and wandering outside on the wet grass in the pouring New Jersey rain - all alone.
Swimming. Almost anywhere. I always end up happier when I'm swimming. Far out - so far out I'm almost scared - at Mystery Island, I startle big old sea turtles off the sandy bottom. Late at night in the Zambezi. The Nile. The Arabian Gulf. The Okanagan (brrr!). Diving down on a lazy afternoon or a fresh morning and looking up at the surface and the sun through the gold-lit strands of my hair. Jaws theme thrumming in my head as I stalk and attack my oblivious mother - year after year after year.
Listening to Jack and Diane for the very first time wearing just jeans and lit by a lava lamp. Have loved lava lamps ever since.
Head on Slug's shoulder and hers on mine bawling and bawling outside the Dubai movie theatre - for William Wallace.
Wandering around the jasmine night garden in RAK, resting my cheek against my own flame tree and wondering when I'd ever figure out my applied math homework. I did - eventually - but isn't it funny that the nights spent wandering when so frustrated are now far more important than the vectors that were frustrating me.
Dark nights in Kenya, in summer camp, in Zion where I preferred to walk without switching on my flashlight.
Curled up in the bat cave with sweet talk after an uneventful foray onto the bungee tower. Words that I thought I'd never forget that are now nothing but sugar in my memory.
So so so many more I could keep remembering and writing but my eye lids are heavy and my pillow is calling.