May 15, 2008
The school where I work is only about four miles from the heart of the city, but it takes thirty minutes to get to Granadino by bus. We wind down the mountain, stop for construction, and the occassional mudslide and make it to the campus just the same. My favorite part of the drive is the last half mile or so. The road runs adjacent to a big open pasture on one side and a monestary on the other. It’s a short settling stretch for me and I catch myself taking a deep breath and whispering a prayer in those last five minutes of the commute.
Yesterday as we drove in, I noticed a flash of pink dancing in the sky. It looked somehow familiar, like a scene from a movie or a piece of a dream. I watched in childlike awe as the pink parachute floated toward the emarald pasture. The man touched the earth and took two running steps to absorb the momentum of his fall, then grinning broadly, he raised his hand and waved at me as if to say, “It wasn’t a dream at all.”
Posted in Uncategorized 
1 Comment »
May 14, 2008
My brother represents all things manly. He’s always got boots in the back of his truck. He hunts and fishes and works hard to keep up his place. “Land oughta look good,” he says. He’s athletic and smart and any one that has the nerve to cross him is surely in for a lashing. And he cries. I know he does. I caught him in the act.
We were both in college, I guess, and I came home late. He was sitting in Daddy’s chair watching a movie and sobbing. I caught a giggle in my throat, but it didn’t go unnoticed. “Any man that doesn’t cry at Lonesome Dove isn’t a man,” he said. And that was that.
When I left home after Christmas, he loaned me Larry McMurty’s Pulitzer Prize winner and told me I should read it. “It’ll break your heart.” Lindsay and Whit recommended it, too, so I couldn’t say no. And those 850 pages were all that a girl dreams cowboys should be and they were gone too quickly and my brother was right. It broke my heart.
It’s the story of the Hat Creek Cattle Company’s journey from a Texas border town to Montana and all that they encounter along the way. Sand storms, strangers, Indians, and bitter memories. Women, regret, and the haunting songs of an Irish cattleman. Death, demons, card games, and great waters. Dreamers, fathers, sons, retired Texas Rangers, two plucky pigs, and a chance at redemption that lies somewhere across the plains.
I think the next time that I move, it might be West.
Posted in Uncategorized 5 Comments »
May 13, 2008
Chu–que? Exactly. That’d be chunchurria con arepa, a Colombian favorite. Here are some pictures for you. Number one: Me trying it because I stinking love the family that invited me for the weekend.
Number two: My reaction to trying it. It’s was SO not biscuits and gravy.
And just for fun, a picture of the twins and me watching el vaquero shoeing the horses and one of us saddled up and headed for our afternoon ride.
Posted in Uncategorized 6 Comments »
May 9, 2008
I love the movies. The popcorn. Big Diet Cokes with lots of ice. (oh, how I loved thee, Diet Coke!) The quiet hush as the lights go down. I stinking LOVE the movies.
When Lyle and I lived in Australia, we’d meet in Sydney on Saturdays and watch movies all day long. It made it feel not so far away for a while. Sisser and I have been known to see three movies in one day, and there’s no telling how many I’ve seen all by myself. I just adore ’em. I really do. We won’t discuss at the moment the fact that movies in Colombia are in Spanish. We won’t. I’m coping with it. There’s still the popcorn.
What we’ll talk about instead is movie quotes. What’s your all time favorite?
Mine? Just one? It’s tough, but “You’re killin’ me Smalls!” ranks up there. Who doesn’t love The Sandlot? I mean, honestly!
Now, let’s hear ’em. Leave your favorite quote in the comments.
Posted in Uncategorized 12 Comments »
May 8, 2008
What’s that noise?
Yeah, the one that sounds like a fog horn.
Oh, don’t worry.
That’s just me blowing my nose.
FOR THE 552nd TIME TODAY.
Posted in Uncategorized 5 Comments »
May 8, 2008
April 26th
I’m lying in a bed in a house that sleeps thirty. The sounds of evening are all around me and the memories of the day vivid yet somehow indescribable.
We left for a horseback ride in the early afternoon and I am still astounded by it all, the tenacity of young girls astride temperamental mounts and the sounds of Colombian cowboy music drifting through the trees. We stopped to rest for a bit at a little camp house and sat on the porch watching the clouds rise and talking about all the greens of the countryside. The children ran and giggled as they bathed in an outdoor shower and chased dragonflies through the grass. The gloaming came and we mounted once again headed toward home.
The sun sank behind the mountains, a box of crayons melting into the horizon. And then, the miracle of it all. Fireflies all around, the clip clopping of horses’ hooves, the lights of Chipre in the distance, and the promise of the moon. I offered up a prayer of thanks for memories such as these and could not help but notice that my words were in Spanish.
Posted in colombia 1 Comment »
May 7, 2008
My parents are cool. They just are. Daddy’s funny and I’ll always be his girl. I call him when I have fender benders or need money. (Cause Mom’s hard core and kinda scares me and Daddy’s not afraid of anything. Except wasps.)
But I digress.
This post is about Mom and me and late nights and an unholy amount of tears and giggles and such. So, on with it I suppose.
I remember coming home late when I was in high school. Mom never waited up, but I always woke her when I got home. She’d sit up in bed, turn the lamp on, and we’d giggle about my night or she’d listen while I cried. I don’t know what possessed me as an 18 year old to tell her everything, but I always did. Sometimes we’d go to the kitchen and talk over midnight snacks waking Daddy with our peels of laughter echoing through the house. I’ve never worried about calling home too late or calling for no reason and I’ve always wanted to call and tell Mom all about whatever it is that’s going on at the moment. I remember I even called her after my first date in college. I got home at three in the morning and called as soon as I walked through the door. My roommate couldn’t believe it. We were supposed to be all free to do whatever we pleased until whatever hour and not have to tell a soul, but I wanted to tell Mom. At three in the morning.
I still call her late.
I layed down Monday night, but couldn’t sleep. My head was full of crazy thoughts and they were fighting with each other and with me and the result was me calling Mom. It was after midnight and I was sobbing like the emotional trainwreck that I am. It wasn’t pretty and there was no reason for it at all and I tried to survive it like a grown up who lives in a foreign country and is independent and tough. (because I AM all of those things! I really am.) But, I’m 27 and I was crying myself to sleep and I wanted my Momma. So, I called her and we talked for more than an hour and I felt like I was 18 and home again.
Posted in Uncategorized 3 Comments »
May 6, 2008
-I’ve been out of school for five days.
-I really like sunshine.
-So, I took a little vacation.
-No internet.
-No TV.
-It’s fun to disconnect sometimes.
-I had LOTS of emails to return.
-One was from Pat. He submitted something I wrote to The Local Voice.
-Dude! They published it!
-I go back to school tomorrow.
-My kids are cute.
-But, ugh.
-I’d rather read and write all day.
Posted in Uncategorized 2 Comments »
April 29, 2008
So, Brody got this thing started and I keep rolling with it. It’s cool to say nice things about nice folks.
Like Blake, for example.
Blake’s a super guy, super dad, super bulldog fan, super youth director, and now a super pastor at our church. Blake’s a super friend, too. He’s selfless with his time and gives willingly to others. It’s highly likely that I send the poor guy three emails a day about something that’s going on with the blog or something that I can’t figure out and he’s ever patient in his responses to the not-so-tech-savvy (ahem, me).
Blake’s heart for Jesus just shines in the way that he treats his girls, loves his wife and in the way that he fathers his new son. It’s one hundred percent evident that Blake wants his family to see Jesus in him and his friends see it, too. Blake’s love for people shows in the way that he works tirelessly for the church (new podcast. get excited), how he maintains message boards, and how he plugs into their lives using whatever means he has.
More than anything, what makes me so proud to call Blake my friend is the example that he sets for others, especially the youth that he’s ministered to over the years. I have had the pleasure of working with lots of his kids and seeing them grow into men and women of Christ and time and time again I’ve heard them say, “Yeah, Blake’s great. He taught me how to love people.” One kid that makes my all time favorite camper list told me when he was about sixteen, “If I grow up to be half the man that Blake is, I think Jesus will be proud of me.”
Yeah, I think He will, too.
Posted in friendcitos 2 Comments »
April 29, 2008
Long ago and far away, I posted about a weekend. Summer asked me for pictures and I finally figured it out. Well, Blake did. So, enjoy.
Posted in Uncategorized 8 Comments »
POSTS
content rss
Recent Comments