Hi.
I haven't brain dumped here in a while. I have a lot flying around up inside my head these days, mainly, the lyrics to one of my favorite Garth Brooks** tunes (sing it with me now):
Ireland, I am coming home
I can see your rolling fields of green
And fences made of stone.
I am reaching out, won't you take my hand?
I'm coming home, Ireland.
The Rest of the Lyrics:
I am on a project overseas again. I'm feeling a little anxioius. It feels a little bit like standing once again at the top of the same ski slope where you previouisly broke your leg and had to be dragged down the hill in a papoose by a slobbery St. Bernard.
Mostly all healed up and doing fine, but still pretty...anxious. On the other hand, it's Ireland and I've never been and I'm excited to go there and have some adventure. Not to mention rack up some frequent flyer miles.
I am blogging and I shouldn't be. I should be doing one of three things. Cleaning my house and organizing for my soon to be suitcase life, getting a jump on work for next week, or being outside in my hammock because it's flippin goreous outside.
But nonetheless, I am loving this Sunday. As I reflect on the week, I got to sit with the lovely Liz for bit this afternoon, and last night I got have dinner and toast this life with four amazing, beautiful, courageous, Godly, hysterical, authentic, gifted women. Yesterday, I got to have lunch with a long time friend and co-worker back in town for a bit. The night before I flopped on a couch at George and Jaels and just shared some good delicious life. The night before that, Maddie, Annie and Banjo came for dinner, a walk and some Monsters, Inc. We caught lightning bugs and made plans to pull weeds in my yard.
How did I get so blessed with such good friends? Such vast and deep community? I certainly did my best not to cultivate it, and in spite of me, I have it now, in this time.
For that I am thankful. Over the top, gushy, intensely thankful. Just in time to leave again. I take a deep breath, and exit the ski-lift.
Now the fog is deep and heavy
As we forge the dark and fear
We can hear their horses breathing
As in silence we draw near
There are no words to be spoken
Just a look to say good-bye
I draw a breath and night is broken
As I scream our battle cry
** I just happen to believe Garth Brooks is the greatest American songwriter of our time.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Oh yeah...
And I'm going to Ireland. For work again. Only six weeks this time. Broken up in to three separate trips. Living out of a suitcase... here we come again!
I will get a new camera for this. Any pointers? I'm looking for good clear pics out of an ultracompact camera.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Happy Father's Day Everyone.
A story for this day.
My Grandpa eats, sleeps and breathes sports accomplishments from his nursing home bed where he hasn't been able to walk for the past 12 years. We struggle to figure out what to get him for occasions because of his situation, and his failing mind, so we opt for silly little things... peanuts for the squirrels outside his window...sweatpants...westerns. Things for his life confined to his bed.
My Aunt's boyfriend, one of the most thoughtful men I have ever met, trumped us all forever in the gift giving department this Father's Day. He went to the high school where my parents and my grandparents attended and found a picture of my grandpa's basketball team from 1948. Read: it was black and white and not because it was trendy. He took a picture of this old photo and had it blown up and re-framed. The photo was from when my Grandpa's team went to the state tournament and got 4th that year. Maybe not a big deal, but my parents hometown is like 400 people that came and went with the mines. My Grandpa's team's story made it into a small book written about the history of this area and it's something that has always been near and dear to his heart.
We try to make him forget who he was so he isn't so sad, so he doesn't ask us things for things that we can't give him. This guy, while not even officially a part of our family, loved this difficult man very well by giving him back his dignity.
For a brief teary-eyed moment. That man gave my grandpa back his legs.
In other news, also for Fathers Day, somehow I ended up with a brand new rake in my back seat. Dad is always finding ways to stick stuff like this in my car. He apparently got this one for free because he bought so much stuff at the Home Depot? I have had such various and sundry items in the Murl Mobile from Papa, including a broken axe handle to be used..."Just in case you break down and have to walk somewhere..."
My Grandpa eats, sleeps and breathes sports accomplishments from his nursing home bed where he hasn't been able to walk for the past 12 years. We struggle to figure out what to get him for occasions because of his situation, and his failing mind, so we opt for silly little things... peanuts for the squirrels outside his window...sweatpants...westerns. Things for his life confined to his bed.
My Aunt's boyfriend, one of the most thoughtful men I have ever met, trumped us all forever in the gift giving department this Father's Day. He went to the high school where my parents and my grandparents attended and found a picture of my grandpa's basketball team from 1948. Read: it was black and white and not because it was trendy. He took a picture of this old photo and had it blown up and re-framed. The photo was from when my Grandpa's team went to the state tournament and got 4th that year. Maybe not a big deal, but my parents hometown is like 400 people that came and went with the mines. My Grandpa's team's story made it into a small book written about the history of this area and it's something that has always been near and dear to his heart.
We try to make him forget who he was so he isn't so sad, so he doesn't ask us things for things that we can't give him. This guy, while not even officially a part of our family, loved this difficult man very well by giving him back his dignity.
For a brief teary-eyed moment. That man gave my grandpa back his legs.
In other news, also for Fathers Day, somehow I ended up with a brand new rake in my back seat. Dad is always finding ways to stick stuff like this in my car. He apparently got this one for free because he bought so much stuff at the Home Depot? I have had such various and sundry items in the Murl Mobile from Papa, including a broken axe handle to be used..."Just in case you break down and have to walk somewhere..."
Sunday, June 07, 2009
To Be Filed Under
Things you don't miss until they are gone:
1. Driver side car window.
It's currently completely lost inside my door. Clanking around mockingly as the rain pelts inside.
With no driver side window, you forget that you should move your computer out of plain sight. When you come to your senses, and put it in your trunk, you are halfway through the checkout at Target before you realize...that doesn't help. Your trunk is still accessible. Idiot.
In fact, I think my car has had a stroke. The whole left side seems waga. I have an engine light on. And maybe just because my window is down, I am forced to listen to the sounds my car makes more carefully. Now there is a whine that seems to come from the left side, brakes are squeaky and and I think maybe the tires on the left side are low.
Yes I blog about this rather than fix it.
1. Driver side car window.
It's currently completely lost inside my door. Clanking around mockingly as the rain pelts inside.
With no driver side window, you forget that you should move your computer out of plain sight. When you come to your senses, and put it in your trunk, you are halfway through the checkout at Target before you realize...that doesn't help. Your trunk is still accessible. Idiot.
In fact, I think my car has had a stroke. The whole left side seems waga. I have an engine light on. And maybe just because my window is down, I am forced to listen to the sounds my car makes more carefully. Now there is a whine that seems to come from the left side, brakes are squeaky and and I think maybe the tires on the left side are low.
Yes I blog about this rather than fix it.
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