Ritz-Carlton

In light of it being our LAST day in Colorado, we embarked upon one more family hike this morning. Many of the hikes we've done in the past are currently closed due to massive amounts of snowfall this past winter ("You could try it, but you'd need snowshoes...").

Greg researched a new trail... the "Village to Village" trail that would take us from Arrowhead to Bachelor Gulch - right to the Ritz-Carlton that he's been wanting to check out anyway. Originally, he planned a longer hike but decided on this one because it was shorter and we could just hike right back to our van.

Trail map distances can be REALLY deceiving.

It was a gorgeous day, and thankfully we packed lunches. We saw snow, unique wildlife tracks, and breathtaking views. After 2 1/2ish hours of hiking uphill, Grace was steadfastly plopping one foot down after the other while her face looked as if it was being dragged along against it's will. We began to wonder if I should turn back now with Grace, but she wanted to stay together and try to keep going.

Grace handed me a dandelion ("blow flowers" as we've always called them), and told me to make a wish and then blow. Silently I made my wish/more of a prayer- "Please let there be a way to catch a shuttle back, so we don't have to walk all the way again..."

After one more 1/2 hour of downhill (hallelujah) hiking, we finally came upon civilization. Serious civilization. We arrived at the Ritz-Carlton, tired and slightly sweaty. Right inside the lobby was free lemonade and iced tea, so you could treat yourself to an Arnold Palmer - which we did. I had a looming headache due to needing afternoon coffee, so Greg went in search of coffee. The nice concierge said he didn't believe any coffee shops were open, so he would make us each a complimentary cup. He brought us coffee and two little plastic cups of cream.

We thought we were blending in relatively well, except for Abby's back-sack that said "Sheraton" (a gift from OUR concierge guy who wasn't as friendly when we didn't sign up for an appointment to hear more about being owners...) and enjoyed the wonderful service we were receiving. Greg asked about a shuttle that might take us back to our car (YESSS!), and the nice concierge helped us out again (didn't even ask us to make any appointments).

We caught a Ritz-Carlton shuttle that took us to Beaver Creek where we caught another shuttle that was supposed to take us to Arrowhead, except it didn't.

"Who told you a shuttle went to Arrowhead?" our shuttle-driver asked.

"Um, the concierge at the Ritz-Carlton," replied Greg.

Next thing we know, he's on the phone telling on that guy with significant emotion. He then tells us he's gotten us a ride and to make sure we told the lady driving the Suburban exactly who it was that gave us that incorrect information.

We didn't.

Because the deal is... he was very nice and treated us as if we were staying there (which we tried to pretend was true) and if he would've said there was no shuttle back to Arrowhead, we would've walked that whole way back again.

But this way we had a personal Suburban ride back to our car.

And we lived happily ever after.

Summer Margin

Summer is approximately 4.8 days old so far in my life and with it a glorious sense of margin I have not felt for awhile. Granted, my wonderful job allows me beautiful breaks during the year - but there is something about a budding sabbatical that brings mental, emotional, spiritual margin pushing me toward refreshment and growth.

I guess I feel like I've lived on autopilot for awhile now and I'm looking hopefully forward to trying my hand at flying a bit.

There are things that I want to be a consistent part of my life... reading, running, thinking, writing... that make me feel kind of like a failure during a 40 hour work week, because I cannot figure out how to incorporate them in. My hours at home disappear into the washing machine, grocery store, transportation to daughters' activities, a little into the oven and stove, a lot into the dishwasher, and then into exhaustion. I do love my job and feel immensely grateful for the opportunity to do what I do. My job brings me satisfaction, and I highly value what I have the opportunity to spend my hours doing (which I know is not the case for most people, and I recognize this as a blessing) -

However, I also realize that if I live on autopilot, I grow toward self-absorbtion, shallowness, soft in the middleness, and too much t.v. watchingness.

I am currently in Colorado thoroughly enjoying beauty, time to sleep and read and talk with Greg and the girls; time to run, hike, play tennis, and swim; time to play games as a family, go on dates with Greg, watch the Dallas Mavericks play in the NBA Championship (that's the only t.v. we're watching, really) and time to transition to margin.

Happy Summer.

Good Friday on Earth Day...

It is interesting to encounter the convergence of Good Friday and Earth Day. This morning my youngest daughter was singing a song about "mother earth" that she learned at school...

I went for a run today and even amidst the ridiculous wind, the fragrance of the delicately beautiful wild flowers and honeysuckle overwhelmed me. Last weekend I sat in our backyard garden watching as barn swallows, house finches, cardinals, doves, and blue jays stopped to eat at our bird feeder.

Tonight as we drove home from church, I watched an amazing sunset unfold in the sky; and I thought about the crucifixion of my Savior, who also happens to be the Creator of this amazing earth we inhabit. I considered how fitting it is to take a day to focus on caring for this home we have been entrusted with on the day we celebrate the life we are given due to the sacrifice of our Creator.

May I honor His creation because it draws me to worship the Beauty of its Creator. May I reverently care for this world because He's asked me to. May I never lose sight of Him.

Through Him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men... He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God...
-John 1: 3-4, 10-12

The Back Story, Installment 2

Right around the time it became clear to Greg and me that we would need to head out of our current situation in Kansas, we found ourselves driving out to the beautiful hill country of Texas for an invitation-only Artists' Retreat.

I know, that's what we were thinking. Really? We don't know where we are going in life after this, and we don't even know exactly why we get to go to this retreat, but retreat sounds like something we are seriously needing to do... so we did.

I share this detail, not because I have the time right now to expound upon the huge impact that event had upon our lives or the restorative power of the conversations we engaged in with some of the most talented and creative people we've met (keynote was a film maker from Scotland who lives in a castle, etc) or, looking back, what a truly amazing and God-thing that timing was -
Mostly I want to share why poetry became important to me again.

I had the privilege of attending a session with one of the featured writers, a published poet and poetry professor and singer/songwriter named Nathan Brown. He talked about how writing poetry became more than something he "ought to do" and in fact turned into therapy for him; something he couldn't be without as a means of daily expression if he were to maintain his sanity.

That stuck with me. Over the next few weeks, I found a similar effect in my life - along with running to really loud music.

I am NO poet, but I pretend like I could be sometimes. I share the following as an honest look at where I was, grappling with fear, anger, hope, grief.

10-8-08
The wind sings a song,
A mournful dirge
It seems to me
As it sweeps my gardens about.
But on a careful, lingering listen
I realize the birds are singing too,
Clear and crisp, but almost drowned
By the dirge.
The insects louder join, proclaiming
"The wind is blowing not only
To buffet and chase away
But to help send us where we are going."


10-11-08
Gratitude is the only option
When you are given a gift.
A well-timed gift, the thoughtful kind
Screams for a response in the midst of pain.
It sticks out - so bright it hurts your eyes.
And, on impulse, you close them,
But that doesn't block out the screaming,
Which begins to sound like something different.
A melody instead,
Enrapturing, prompting misty eyes
Back open-
Looking for Someone to thank.


10-12-08
There are seagulls stuck in Kansas.
I overhear their shrill cries through open windows.
Smirking at their stupidity,
I wonder why?
Could our little town's pond have drawn them?
Are they so confused?
So easily mistaken?
What of instinct or Providence?
I hear another single cry that pierces me.
I realize each gull has flown by
And cried - utterly alone.


10-31-08
Pain is a strange thing-
Sneaking up on me
In tears or anger or fear,
Often when I least expect it,
Controlling me and revealing
That bitterness
Is not quite as far off
As I had hoped.

We drove away from Kansas with our moving van on November 11, 2008.

I love you, stinky face

I have to share the results of our Valentine's Day "homework" that came home with Grace this week. Her teacher read the book I Love You, Stinky Face and had each student write their own small version as a letter to their parents and draw a picture to go with it.

The parents then had to write a response and draw a picture to be displayed next to their child's.

What Grace wrote:

Dear Mom and Dad,
If I wher a big which and I had big sharp and slimy teeth and I would tarn you to a frog will you still love me?
love Grace holmes

(Sorry her picture is sideways)-


What we wrote:

Then we would give you a toothbrush and bubblemint toothpaste to clean your teeth. And we would ask you to make us people again, so we could hug you in our big, long arms. If you didn't, we would hop up onto your head and give you a froggy kiss on your forehead and croak, "We love you, Slimy Teeth Witch!"
No matter what.
Love, Mom and Dad

picture by Greg, of course

dermatologist

I went to the dermatologist today, because...

I am a redhead with FAIR skin.
I am getting older.
I have moles.
I have not had a skin cancer screening, ever.
Greg made me.

It was not fun...

I am standing there in the little room with bright, unflattering lights and three people (young, fit, beautiful people) staring at me - really intently, for a long time; I am the only one seriously underclothed. It was a nightmare happening in real time. I felt like I needed to explain...

I know I should be doing yoga, but I don't really like it. I run though, it's just that everything has been covered in ice and we've had advisories about being outside. I don't tan, but that should be a real plus with you guys.

Everything turned out pretty well, one mole removed but not too worried about it, one precancerous spot frozen (or something). I'm thinking I'm good now for 15 years at least. And now, Greg says I can go get my hair done at AVEDA - this was my prerequisite.

The Chocolate Custard that will be in Heaven

I am breaking from "the back story" to share the recipe for the Chocolate Custard Pie that Abby says will be in heaven. Thanks to Southern Living for the recipe - It is so yummy and easy...

Chocolate Custard Pie
1/2 cup sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1/2 tsp salt
4 egg yolks
3 cups milk
2 (4 oz.) bars bittersweet chocolate, chopped
2 tablespoons butter
2 tsp vanilla

Bring first 6 ingredients to a boil in a heavy saucepan over medium heat (about 15 minutes), whisking constantly; boil, whisking constantly, 1 minute or until thickened. Remove from heat; stir in butter and vanilla. Pour custard into baked pie crust (according to package directions for an unbaked pie). Place plastic wrap directly on surface of custard; chill 2 hours. Top with sweetened whipped cream and, if desired, chocolate curls.

Or, you can just eat it as custard and forget the pie crust - YUM!
Enjoy.