Moab Mecca

Wind-swept, water-beaten, these rocks are shapeshifting sandstone wonders.  I have stealthily filled (Steve's) pockets with tiny red stone shards.  Not in hopes of death by drowning.  Instead, as samples for my kids and Mireille (beautiful friend and rocks and minerals coveter).

We scrambled up a couple trails in Utah's Arches National Park today, hopping from solid footing to solid footing, digging the tips of our fingers into crevices to help pull ourselves up.  And taking photos.  Many, many, many photos.  The digital camera is a blessing and a curse.  Fast, easy, convenience.  Too fast, too easy, too much.  I found myself wanting to go through my photos and tackle the task of deleting some at the Moab Brewery after dinner.  Not exactly food for conversation.  I refrained.

Some sights we saw:  the Devil's Gardens, which I would call the Devil's Playground.  Too much fun.  The courthouse with its trio of judicial looking towering columns.  The Delicate Arch, where we were assaulted by a very less than delicate wind (parents, hold tight to your children, waifs beware).

We are exhausted.  And off again tomorrow.

Morning Meditation

 

My morning walks are energy-renewers and sanity-keepers.  If the sky is clear, they often take me to Hugo's Bay, site of morning sunrises, evening sunsets, inspired kisses and official proposals.  The silence, the light, the cold air and the sight of vast expanses of water or snow fill my eyes, my ears, my lungs and satisfy, well, my soul.  

London the wonderdog is my constant companion.  If our schedules coincide, Steve and I will go out together.  It is a routine: morning walk after London eats, evening walk after London eats.  As if the walk is more important for London than it is for us.  Morning walk before Meaghan runs around with a class of 24 kids, evening walk after Meaghan has run around with a class of 24 kids.

I've been thinking a lot about meditation and the ability to have a peaceful mind and spirit even when everything else is hectic and chaotic.  I've had lots of good talks, emails and reads about this.  I like that meditation is not solely done with legs crossed, palms turned up.  It can take many forms, such as during my morning walks:  being aware of the layers of light from the sunrise casting tints and shades across ice and trees, listening to my boots crunching the snow and then the surprising sound of my own voice as I start a conversation with the dog that has just cut me off at the knees as he streaks down the path.  

Amen.

Smile, it's your birthday!

Steven, it's your birthday

We're going to party like it's your birthday

Twirl spaghetti like it's your birthday

Eat some cheesecake and rhubarb cause it's your birthday!

This was last night's desert, provided by Tamsin and Kurt.  Decorating skills honed in front of the televison.  Tonight we'll be dining on Steve's favourites.  Cheesecake has been his birthday desert of choice for as long as he can remember.  His mom used to make it for him and now, once a year, I do it, too.  We set the alarm for 6 a.m. so that I could whip it up.  (Sleep must be sacrificed when you're celebrating a new year...)  Steve will be making the spaghetti sauce and meatballs in our new crockpot (won at our curling windup).  If you want something done, sometimes you've got to do it yourself...even if you're the bouncing birthday boy!

Texan Vietnamese Tra-la-la

It's amazing where you can get after 27 hours in a car.  Texas.  No cactus.  Surprisingly like Portage la Prairie.  The landscape rolling by was hilly fields protected by buffers of trees along the highway.  Hills and bluffs in the Iowa distance made me think of Where the Red Fern Grows...a perfect place for exploring and adventures whether you're young, old or canine.  Watch out for cougars.  And the golden arches. 

The roadtrip gang, 5 determined friends, was off to be with Andrew and Mai at their wedding.  Did it ever pay off.  The ceremonies were largely held in Vietnamese, the food and culture was as far from North American as possible (minus the Corona at the tea ceremony, thanks Nu!), but some things are universal and are not subject to language barriers.  Do you?  I do.  Rings exchanged, tea drank in communion, an uncle wishing many babies with a pregnant gesture.  I understand it all.

I felt much more than a simple witness to it all.  We were given corsages!  (I felt special immediately.)  Andrew's kilted Scottish cousins led the parade to Mai's family home bearing a pig, followed by the rest of his family and us, his friends, carrying domed trays covered in red embroidered and sparkling velvet; gifts of frankincense and mirh, or ladyfingers and Irish Cream.

The bride was beautiful, both in her traditional vietnamese wedding outfit or the well-known white wedding dress.  A sight well worth the trip.  So cheers to texan vietnamese tra-la-las, to cross-continental adventures, overloaded senses and emotions, safe drivers, good friends and New York unions made in love, in Texas.