Thanksgiving [not turkey day]

Thanksgiving was fun!! Maybe amazing even, considering I was in a new place with no family but new relationships to substitute. I'm always in for meeting new people and having purposeful friendships but it's a hard thing to accomplish, especially the former part while being a nanny. Anyway, I went out of town, north of Spokane to the mountains and woods and lakes and it was my piece of peace. I spent the day with a family and some international students. We did some mild hiking which was more about getting out of the house than getting a good view. Honestly it was damp, the trees were bare, and the fog frozen across the horizon. I did manage to cross my first frozen lake, but it looked more like a pond.

The snow came after Thanksgiving day. Going walking alone out there was probably just short of heaven. I've hardly been in snowy places, particularly apart from cities and suburban sprawls. The snow really does silence everything, and things are more serene. Somehow that quiet feeling of solitude didn't leave me feeling lost or fearful, but perfectly placed. Okay, so now I'm rambling, still inarticulately arguing my point. I wish I had the most amazing camera to express where words cannot, but I left my camera at home. As of late, part of the reason I gallivant without my camera is because I believe in the beauty of nature as it exists, not as my amateur digital camera presents it. Somehow it ruins the whole memory for me.

"For his unfailing love towards those who fear him is as great as the height of the heavens above the earth." Psalm 103:11

That is something I read today that I particularly enjoyed in my current state of mind and emotion. It's nice all of a sudden have a burst of joy, love, comfort, basically a bunch of mushiness, just come up and out towards you when you hardly expect it.


Back up plans in life:
move to Canada
teach ESL in Asia

my next step is into ... .. ..... ..

I'm already walking out onto the water for my future now. I just hope I don't sink. I'm applying to graduate schools for Fall '09 in Speech-Language Pathology.

I reference a biblical story I love like Peter Pan loves Neverland. And coincidentally (or not) the disciple who climbs out of the boat to walk to Jesus across the water is also named Peter. Whether you believe this story literally, figuratively, or even as a folk tale, the message of doing something you can't believe you can do is pertinent to all opinions. It wouldn't matter to me if I were on that boat and everyone else knew that I could walk on water. What would matter, and this is the only thing, is that I believed, even in the slightest, that I could do it. Faith is allowing yourself to have the tiniest speck of hope that what you can't see, understand, or imagine, could be real, could happen.

This yacht illustrates the size of my faith that my purpose in life will work out, and with my efforts I will steer in the direction of my skills and desires. However, my faith in knowing exactly where I should gravitate, each time I need to reposition myself, is not visible in this photo by the naked eye. My faith would actually be the size of an oxygen molecule in the air. And that's on a good day. Most days my faith is like the needle in the haystack, except I'm confident that there is no needle after all.

Those are the thoughts that surface now. I can hardly shake the pictures of rejection letters pouring in next Spring after admissions departments review scores of application packets.
I cannot say that I don't mean to sound pessimistic for I am purposely sitting here sharing my fears in just simply applying to graduate school. Let's save all the worries of relocation, loans, work, etc. for beyond the horizon, somewhere over the rainbow. But even with the fears I'm going to go for it anyway. I'm going to apply for the things I want the most. Cue inspirational symphony music with bold kettle drums pounding and staccato trumpets forging the way.

So if you must take pity on me and want to encourage me, please pray for me. I've talked about these things with professors, family, friends, and nothing has dashed the intrusive, looming doubts. I've had to defend my jobs and education choices as though I was incapable of plotting a course for my life. All of those conversations have in some way benefited me and I appreciate them, but all I need now is God's reassurance that I will not be left with nothing. That there will be a purpose connecting all the dots of my studies and jobs together. That failure or success does not define me, they are only things that happen and pass.

Fotos

picnic!

toting calvin

fall leaves

evergreens

mountains

playing rock band at a halloween party with bonnie & clyde, from the dead

Soapbox On A Bike

Maybe this should be my cycling blog. I hardly have more stories to tell than those.
My workdays go like this: I wake up at 5:45am. I get the boys ready for school and walk them to the bus stop, protecting the youngest from wild soccer ball kicks and wheelies in the stroller, attempted by his older brothers, usually the oldest. I go for exceptionally long walks with the all-terrain stroller which is a necessity in order to avoid boring sidewalks. I do laundry and I try to carry as many toys as possible anytime I cross the living room or climb the stairs. The foyer overlook is a great ramp for toy car, as well as an easy goal for footballs and soccer balls. I make return trips to the bus stop to pick up both of the boys separately, kindergarten is on a half-day schedule. I host jam out parties when I want everyone to be together. I save the kittens from stranglings, tail sprains, and dizzy circles. I am a dictator when there is homework or whining. Did I mention the stinky diapers?
Occasionally, I meet up with friends in the evenings, or if not, then I ride my bike or go for a walk. I read books a lot. I try to go to the library every week. I love that, too. Sometimes I talk on the phone with friends "back home." I eat home-cooked meals. I go to bed at 10:00pm. I like this lifestyle, abruptly changed from last year in good ole' college town U.S.A., Athens.
My weekends are completely different. Sometimes I am with the family but most times, not. I usually get out of the house and go somewhere, even if it's solo. I like to have a break from the work environment even if I'm not working.


Cycle Blog Begin: I've been riding Fish Trail again. I've graduated to figuring out how to change gears. I've conquered one of the hills on the return ride home. I had my first tumble.
Those are my biking accomplishments. Yes, I feel humbled and embarrassed to publish them on my blog, but my tumble makes me feel like I'm on the road to veteran-hood. I tried to hop a curb, from an acute (less than 90 degrees, go GRE) angle. It was unsuccessful, but as far as I knew there were no observers of the incident. Yes! And the gear change problem is partially not my fault. The back one is temperamental and only shifts to a higher gear once per ride.
But in great news, Julie will retrieve her newer bike from the lake house soon... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
[in blogging, at least my blogging, ellipses indicate a drum roll]

it has SHOCKS!!! Oh, how spoiled will I be to ride on graded gravel with something to protect my bum. This will surely make me an undeserving, pampered, beginner cyclist, especially after getting gloves to keep feeling in my fingers when I ride with the temperature hovering at 55. But to go over the top in indulgences I'd need to acquire a cycle-odometer to inform me of the distance I am covering. I really don't even know how long this trail is. By my Google Map guesstimate, I've probably ridden 7 miles in one direction on the trail, making a round trip of possibly 16 miles, starting point- the house.

I discovered Queen Lucus Lake which sits off of the trail to the east, at the bottom of a slope. However, this post is more like a requiem of the lake and it's splendor. I was unknowingly trespassing, as that section of the trail is indefinitely, temporarily close. So now that I found a gorgeous lake, now that I made it to within 2 miles of my final destination, well bolt that door, pull the gates, no more.
But alas, I'll share with you the beauty and excitement of it all. Its shade of blue reflected the sky and it changed to marshlands on its ends, with a snake-like stream trailing off on one of them. I saw herons all over the place. Usually when I see these anorexic swan lookalikes, it's only one or maybe two, but here I counted about five, some getting feisty and talking loudly, chasing others from their personal space. By the way, I like herons. I know they take no offense to that description. Some things have beauty due to their aesthetic shortcomings. And herons are especially pleasing to me because you usually have to sit and wait for them. So anyway, I also heard what I'll call "chirping". I knew it wasn't the ducks or the herons so I scanned until I saw dark bodies bobbing above and below the water. Otters!!! Yes, my first sighting of the playful cuties outside an aquarium.
Now the other side of the trail were impressive, tall rock walls steeply climbing to a top I could not see. But on an edge was a shack flying a rebel flag. Freaks me out!!! I realize that you may wonder why is this shocking, I am from the Deep South. Well, simply because I was naive in thinking that outside of my home region, such attitudes were mostly absent. By the way, that's far from the truth, I've since learned. I must now live in one of the whitest cities in America. No joke about that either, I think someone may have told me this, actually. The "Caucasian" population hovers around 97%. Goodbye, diversity. My hometown might have been closer to the 35%. I simply feel uneasy around people with strong, hateful notions of the world because I view it as a presence of evil. It's okay if you laughed just then. I realize also that I'm pretty idealistic sometimes. I mean my only pet peeve is mean people, after all.

What is caucasian anyway, other than the color of my skin? I could have so many other racial mixes and still come out caucasian, so what does that mean? Please, refrain from responding with denotation. And if a news anchor tried to be politically correct, substituting African-American for black, when talking about a Caribbean-American, would that be ignorant? Okay, I apologize for turning this post into a soapbox, yet I obviously decided not to delete it. It stays because though I feel racial statistics only reinforce racism, I use them, too. What detriment.



Will post pictures soon!!

AUTUMN!!!!!

perspectives

on illegal dumping/littering
Cooper, age 6 1/2
One time we found a bunch of cans in our green trailer when we lived at the apartments because somebody had a party. Everybody threw their cans and bottles in there. If I was an adult right now and I went to a party, I would carry my cans in my pockets home with me and then I would throw them away.

on kidnapping
Carter, age 5, in response to me pretending that I didn't know where he went by saying that i thought somebody took him, when he ran outside to meet his dad coming home.
I didn't have my socks on. Nobody would take me without my socks.


I've temporarily suspended my cycling expeditions due to the fact that I do not know how to downshift the gears. Julie, the mom, is letting me borrow an old bike while I'm here. She hardly used it so she doesn't know the gears either, but hopefully her husband Matt does so I might be able to get the problem fixed without visiting a repair shop in case the gears are "stuck". And, needless to say with all of the inclines around here, the hardest gear is an impossible feat for my quads.
I can't wait anyway to ride again. There is a trail near the house that goes 30 miles to a lake in another town. While I would love to believe I could build up to this, 60 miles round-trip in one day is a little extreme for me, not to mention that spending the night would involve sleeping out in 40 degree weather. But I love the trail even if I can't make it to the water because it goes through rural areas past the outer limits of Spokane. The hills turn are fitted with farm houses and fields with grazing llamas and sheep. I love it all! One of the bragging points of Spokane is its accessibility to the outdoors, which is so convenient! It is mostly surrounded by rural areas for hiking, kayaking, climbing, biking, skiing, etc. And speaking of I went for a short, easy hike this weekend past the north end of town. The trail went parallel to the Little Spokane River so we saw some kayaks and canoes, plus a coyote and rafter of turkeys. I went with a new friend who is way into outdoor activities so I'm excited to have someone to share that with, especially trying new things like snowshoeing, I hope!!
Also not far is Coeur D'Alene, Idaho. The town is about 35 miles West. I went swimming in the lake a few weeks ago for a birthday gathering. It was so clear and cold like a spring because of the snow feed from the mountains. Who knew anything was in Idaho besides potatoes? ehem, everyone should know. Afterall, the state's license plate reads Scenic Idaho.


I've found my home church it's called Vintage Faith Community -click the name to go to their site. I didn't entirely choose this church on my own. Before attending any churches, I was specific with God in asking him to confirm which I should join, and of course my prayer was answered. So... I like that this place is like a house church of sorts. One of their priorities is to branch into other communities by breaking-off and moving to different neighborhoods throughout Spokane. Also cool is the fact that I am challenged by the teaching because it's more of a dialogue and sometimes even small group discussion than a lecture or sermon that is "preached".

Something I've learned regarding my last entry is that the absence of stop signs and yield signs is not an attempt by the DOT to save on metal and printing costs. This is simply "uncontrolled traffic". See, there are arterial roadsigns that route drivers to roads with "controlled traffic", meaning there are traffic lights, signs, etc. And in turn meaning you would never approach an intersection lacking traffic controll with parked cars lining the streets, timidly inching across in hopes that you don't mistake a parked car for one in motion. So if you're the type to make incomplete, rolling stops at stop signs, well this is the solution: do not take the Arterials in Spokane, maybe even the whole state of Washington, I don't know yet.