Tag: perspective

You Just Never Know

It really is the little things.

I struggled this morning trying to decide what to use this platform to say on this somber day. Every adult has their own personal memory of what the morning of September 11, 2001, was like for them. My story is unremarkable. It was 7 a.m. mountain time, I was holding my then three month old son, Joe, and I turned on the television to NBC to watch a few minutes of the Today Show. I remember standing there looking at the footage of the first tower on fire, listening to the broadcasters, and being naively confused about what I was seeing. How could a pilot accidentally fly a plane into a building? A few minutes later I was watching the live footage as the second plane hit the second tower, and my confusion dispersed like the smoke rising into the clouds. The rest of my day was spent crying while watching the news footage, holding my infant son, and wondering what kind of world I had brought him into.

I was one of the lucky ones. I lost no one that day. I knew no one who was there. I was 1800 miles away, removed from the terror except for what I witnessed on television. On YouTube, I can watch that same video footage from NBC that I saw that morning. I watch it in tears every single time. I can’t fathom what that day was like for anyone in New York, anyone who was looking for a loved one, or anyone who lost someone. My still visceral reaction to the video tells me that those who were directly involved with the events of that day must suffer the reopening of wounds and the revisiting of horror on this date. I can’t even imagine.

I was out on my inline skates this morning as I struggled to think of what to say about the unspeakable. The sky was dotted with light clouds. The leaves on the cottonwood trees, now both green and gold, were whispering in the breeze. There were snowy egrets and cormorants on the river. I was at peace. There is nothing I can say about that morning that hasn’t already been said. I spent years reliving the terror of that day on its anniversary. This year, though, I’ve decided to approach it from a different place. I need to focus on something positive. I have everything in the world to live for, and I won’t waste a minute more of it being depressed about the things I cannot change. What happened that day was horrific. I will never forget it. But, recalling the paralyzing fear and stomach-churning agony of that day doesn’t change a thing. 2,977 innocent people died that day. I did not.

So, starting today and going forward, I am going to recall the events of September 11, 2001, pay my mental respects to those who sacrificed that day, and then find something positive to live for in the moment. Every life comes with a death sentence. To honor the thousands who died this day eleven years ago, I am going to hug my kids, take a walk, savor a piece of cake to help celebrate the birthdays of those who happen to have been born on September 11th, and cherish the now. We never know how life might unfold or how death might unravel our life. Take some time today to thank a police officer or firefighter. Hug those you love. Find something beautiful and life-affirming to enjoy. Savor what you have. Never forget, but live wisely because you just never know what a day might have in store for you.

 

 

Posted on by Me 2

Nudists Let It All Hang Out…Naturally

The billboard that caught Steve’s attention

We had some errands to run in Boulder today. Actually, what we had to do was deliver some postcards we picked up in Post Office Bay in the Galapagos Islands. On the way out of town along Highway 93 Steve spied a billboard. I saw him do a double take.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

“See what?”

“That billboard back there for the Family Nudist Resort,” he said.

“Wha?” I asked in my best Despicable Me minion voice. “You’re joking, right?”

I was skeptical about his eyesight, but that sounded too good to pass up. I had to investigate, so I grabbed my iPhone from my bag. Sure enough. Google led me right to Mountain Air Ranch, Colorado’s Family Nudist Resort, part of the American Association for Nude Recreation. It was twice voted America’s friendliest nudist resort.

“Holy cow,” I said as I perused the site. “They aren’t kidding. It’s a full-fledged nudist resort in the foothills. Located on 150 acres with 10 miles of hiking trails. Can you imagine hiking naked? Wouldn’t you be worried about getting scratched up by plants? Oh, man. If you slipped coming down a steep hill, imagine what that fall could do to your unprotected nether regions.”

By this time, our kids were starting to pick up on the conversation.

“Hiking naked? What are you guys talking about?” Joe asked.

“Well, there’s a resort not far from here where people don’t wear any clothes. For the entire time they’re there, they walk around naked. People who do that on a regular basis are called nudists,” I explained.

“They don’t wear any clothes?” Luke questioned.

“Nope. No clothes. Shoes maybe, but no clothes.”

“Why would you DO that?” Luke asked.

“I suppose for the feeling of being free. You know, when you think about it, nudists probably are a lot more comfortable in their own skin than the rest of us,” I said.

“That’s because their own skin is all they’ve got,” Steve quipped.

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to keep an open mind. “There are probably a lot worse things a kid can grow up to be than a nudist. Don’t you remember how much the boys used to love to run in the sprinkler in the backyard totally naked? There was a natural joy in that.”

“They were 2 and 4,” Steve said. “They were carefree before they got undressed.”

I shrugged my shoulders and kept looking at the site. It was hard to see on my tiny iPhone screen, but people appeared to be unencumbered by clothing. They looked completely at ease. I’ll be honest. I’ve always kind of wondered about trying out the nudist experience sometime. Maybe just for a day on a beach or something, but it has crossed my mind. Not all that seriously, obviously, since I’ve never done more than skinny dip on a moonless night…once…when I was in college and when I’d had too much to drink. Steve glanced over at my phone.

“There are photos?” he said incredulously.

“Yep.”

“Let me see,” said Joe.

“Nuh-uh,” I told him.

“Hey…this resort is up Deer Creek Canyon,” I told Steve. Deer Creek Canyon is minutes from our home. “It’s close. We could always try it,” I suggested.

“If we went,” Joe asked, “would everyone be naked?”

“Yep. And you would have to be too,” I told him.

“There’s NO way,” said Luke.

“I’m not going either,” Steve said. “If you ask me, there would be just way too much ugly naked going on at a place like that.”

He may have a point there. I’m not entirely sure I want to see nude men playing bocce ball or women engaging in a lively game of nude shuffleboard. That might be a bit more than I’m brave enough to handle. Oddly enough, the idea of being naked myself while doing these things troubles me less than the idea of watching other nude people going about their daily lives. I’d never know where to rest my eyes. I have a feeling I’d be walking into branches and tripping over rocks while simply trying to avoid gawking at anyone’s parts.

Then again, maybe that’s why I need to go. Maybe my growing edge lies in wholeheartedly recognizing that a person’s body is not the person. Aren’t our bodies like suitcases for our souls? I’m sure I know this in my heart, but that doesn’t stop me from judging people by the clothes on their backs. Nudity is honest. It takes courage to expose yourself to the world and to know that the essence of your being isn’t diminished by sagging flesh or incongruent parts. To their credit, nudists naturally let it all hang out. There’s a beautiful peace and simplicity in that. I’m not quite brave enough for the whole nudist experience yet. (Rest assured that no clothes were shed for the writing of this post.) But, someday, I’m going to have to try it. The nudist resort, I mean, not writing naked. I expose myself enough with my writing as it is.

Posted on by Me 10

Instead

How do you not choose this cute, wet boy in an inner tube over laundry on a hot day?

I have always liked making choices. Perhaps that is because choices have always come easily to me. I’ve never been one to agonize over my options or spend months hemming and hawing. I simply am not wired that way. My husband will spend weeks researching something, thinking about it, reviewing his options, and pondering over the benefits and drawbacks. He will finally, at long last, reach his decision. Not two minutes after his decision is made, he will begin to regret it, wondering whether or not he made the right choice. This, as you can imagine, drives me crazy.

I like options. I like open ended. I like possibility. To me, no decision is permanent. (There are exceptions to this rule of course, but I would never choose to make a permanent decision because, as I’ve stated previously, I like choice. Permanent decisions are the ones that rule out all future choice. There’s no fun in that.) Today was a day when I had a lot of things planned. Most them them were exceedingly dull but incredibly necessary things, like laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning. My options seemed highly limited.

At 8 a.m. when I finally hauled myself out of my basement cave and stared down the list of things I “should” do, I naturally decided we should walk the dog instead. And, that’s exactly what we set out to do. As the boys and I rounded the first bend on what was to be a 3-mile walk, though, my phone rang. It was my dear friend Celeste inviting me to go visit the new Athleta store in the Cherry Creek Mall. Hmmm…now I had a choice. Finish the longer walk or take a shorter walk and meet my friend? I called my sister, set her up to watch the boys, and we cut our walk down by 1/2 mile so I could get to the mall. After my quick shopping date with Celeste, I headed back to get the boys. But, as soon as I got back to my sister’s house, my mom called and said I could take the boys swimming at her condo. Hmmm…another decision. Should I head home and get some laundry done at last? Hadn’t I put it off long enough? I looked at my boys, got back in the car, and ran home to get swimsuits and towels so we could go swimming instead.

At one point, I sat there at the pool, soaking wet on a plastic chair under a blue sky in the hot sun, thinking about all the things I had planned to do today that were not getting done because I had made other choices today instead. So much left undone. Then, my mind traveled to the people affected by the movie theater shooting in Aurora. Earlier today I had read about three friends who had planned to be in theater 9 along with their friends for a midnight showing of The Dark Knight Rises. Two were short on cash and the third didn’t want to leave his low-on-funds friends behind, so they skipped the movie instead. Six of their friends were injured and another buddy was killed in that dark theater. Funny how “instead” can change your day or your life.

My house is still a pit. The laundry remains in a pile. The boys’ suitcase sits upstairs in the hallway as of yet unpacked. It will all be there for me tomorrow. It can wait. Today, I chose to see a good friend and spend the afternoon splashing with my boys instead. I have no regrets.

 

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My Kids Are Sucking The Brain Cells From My Skull

I’m devolving. In my next photo with other adults I’ll be putting rabbit ears behind someone’s head. Wait and see. It’ll happen.

Summer vacation is a mixed bag for me. It’s hard to give up my freedom when the little monkeys come home for the summer, but I do enjoy sleeping in and not making lunches and not stressing out with them over busywork school projects. Summers have become more of a blessing for me and less of a curse than they used to be. The boys are bigger and more independent. They amuse themselves and grab their own snacks. They play outside with friends for hours on end. There is far more freedom in my summers now than there used to be. I’m truly grateful for that.

Still, even with their absences from home, they’re still around many more hours now than they are during the school year. The decibel level in my house increases exponentially in summer. I had no idea I should expect this. One thing I heard before I had kids is that boys are not as talkative as girls. I can’t believe how misguided I was in believing that tall tale. My boys talk non-stop at me all day…and not always about the same things.

To exacerbate the situation, my sons aren’t talking to me non-stop about topics that interest me. We’re not spending hours together discussing alternative energy or world religions or cultural travel. They’re carrying on about their latest fixation, and I’m trying to stay plugged into what they’re saying because I’m supposed to be all zen and living in the moment. When the summer started, we were into Iron Man. From Iron Man, we went on to discover Thor and then Captain America. Of course, from there we were full on into The Avengers after seeing the movie. From the movie, we jumped to the cartoon series Avengers, which assaulted me for what seemed like years but was actually only about a week. After The Avengers, we springboarded right into the Fantastic Four, of course, before landing where we are now…smack dab in the middle of Skylanders. Yes. I am using the term “we” here because if they’re into it I get to be into it, whether I like it or not.

Today, the boys and I went out for a letterboxing hike. Letterboxing, for the uninitiated, is a hobby where you use written clues to find a treasure box. Inside the treasure box is a logbook so you can record your find and a rubber stamp so you can stamp the hider’s unique mark into your logbook. It’s a simple pastime the boys and I took on last year when I decided they needed to learn how to follow directions. (Don’t ask me how that’s going.) Anyway, we were hiking along in between two separate caches, and both boys were rambling simultaneously about equally mind-numbing topics. Joe was telling me the attributes of his Skylander characters while Luke was discussing inventions he thinks Tony Stark should create and market. At that precise moment I realized exactly why my ability to converse with adults has deteriorated to the point where I get the hives at the prospect of a cocktail party: my kids are sucking the brain cells out of my skull. One by one they are disappearing, vacuumed from my head by my Dyson-like children.

They were still chattering on like monkeys on four shots of espresso when I finally lost it.

“You boys are sucking the brain cells from my head. I’m going to need a drink by 3!”

This tirade caught their attention and for two complete seconds they stopped their spouting and looked at me. Then, Joe laughed and Luke raised his hand waited for me to acknowledge his intent to speak again. I shook my head.

I struggle as a parent to tune into what interests my boys. I don’t want them to think that I don’t care about their world. But, how many times a day can I honestly be expected to hear the words “hot lava” or “gunship” without wanting to hang myself? I know I chose this. I could work outside the home full-time, which would greatly decrease the number of hours a day I have to listen to them quiz each other over “Who would win? Thor and his hammer or four nuclear bombs?” If I were in an office, I could have adult conversations and perhaps then I wouldn’t notice my brain in the final stages of atrophy. But, then I remember that work is work, and I don’t like work. I’d much rather be hiking and then hitting Sonic before playing 18 holes of mini golf. I guess when I think about it that way, it’s really not such a bad trade off….a little mindless chattering in exchange for 7-day weekends. And, truthfully, how many brain cells do I need for mini golf, anyway?

 

Posted on by Me 7

Stormy Weather Ain’t All Bad….Except For The Hail And That Kind Of Sucks

Best kind of light show

Went to dinner with my buddy, Heather, tonight in honor of her birthday tomorrow. She’ll be 25ish. Anyway, as we were sitting at dinner we were discussing how summer in Colorado is the greatest thing ever. It really is. I know other people think their locale has the best summers, but they’re wrong. Colorado is incredibly beautiful year round but during our summers, which are normally warm and dry, we get the most amazing storms.

As if on command, the Universe summoned for our separate drives home an astounding light display. It was non-stop cloud lightning with the occasional cloud-t0-ground strike. Unbelievable. It was so constant that despite the darkness after 10 p.m. I was able to get several photos with my iPhone.

All I can think when I see storms like this is how awesome life is on this planet. The good. The bad. The ugly. All of it. Life on this planet is powerful and interesting. I feel badly for the people who miss that truth, who don’t take the time to stop and appreciate and marvel at it. Life is a gift. Any amount of time we’re allowed to exist here is a blessing. When you feel like things in your life are too much, sit and watch a storm and remember how small you are. And, instead of being depressed by that knowledge, revel in it because it’s freeing. No matter how big your troubles seem, they are insignificant in the grand scheme of life on earth. Just like the storm, they will pass.

Posted on by Me 1