The City of Destiny Tour and the Hurricane Ridge

Two things:
My dad jokes that when he comes to visit us here, in the far reaches of the Pacific Northwest, they are like the Beverly Hillbillies. It's like "the country folk in the big city."

They are indeed the Clampetts. And I think that is endearing, because hey-- I still feel like that, sometimes!
And I don't think there's a dern thing wrong with that.

2. As your tour guide, here's the scoop. Tacoma's nickname is "The City of Destiny." We've done the Seattle tour a few times with the Shawver's so when they came up for just a spell, we spent the day in Tacoma. And Tacoma is pretty brilliant in the fall.

Crisp and cool, but with a salty and mellow touch to the skin.
Plus, deuce nickel tre seems a little more sophisticated; holla.

...I think sometimes the industrial Tacoma makes Seattle look completely main stream.

There was only one problem.
We met them there on a Monday. Many things are closed on Mondays, come to find out. Including the car museum, the Promax shop, the Museum of Glass, you get the idea. So with the open attractions that took patronage, we played leap-frog with a school group exploring from New Zealand who found the same thing to be true about Mondays for tourists.

...Maybe the Monday wasn't a problem after all.
We had no trouble with any crowds or parking whatsoever.
Just the way the "Clampetts" like it.

We bought a large box plus a grocery bag of "miswraps" and "booboo's" from the Almond Roca Factory; a  charming idea. My husband's great-grandmother used to work there. And my family thought it was a good deal: they brought out my coveted Idaho potatoes and honey and they went home with chocolate.

This federal building used to be the Tacoma train station. It is like a tabernacle-city-relic.

Dale Chihuly, a Tacoma native with a patch over his eye, and world renowned glass artist, has changed the way I see things. 

He also has these pieces in one of the coolest government buildings I've ever been in.
Everything is remarkably over-sized.

Both art and architecture.

You can walk under this sky bridge exhibit down town. (Walk under the only other at the Bellagio Casino, Las Vegas.)

And Tacoma has even more history. And awesome place names like "Commencement Bay."
Stadium high school used to be a ritzy hotel.

Where's the football field? Down there. Duh. --I would be an awesome tour guide, right? Go right ahead and punt to that ocean liner!

There are still grand homes and cobble streets in some parts of town.

It was a beautiful T-town day.

There are parks in the area (Point Defiance).

And then we headed to Port Angeles.

Olympic National Park, aka my back yard.

The clearest day at the Hurricane Ridge look-out, ever. Lucky us! Seeing Mt. Baker, the Sequim Spit, and light reflecting off buildings on Vancouver Island (Canada).

It was a pleasant time. Sooo good to have them come! They even bought me a birthday cake.
This was easily the best picture I had of it.

Happy Trails, Shawvers!
Love Ya'll!

Gone and Done It

When you're a hobbyist picture-taker of sorts
there's something of an honor

when an exciting young person

asks you
to take her senior pictures.

And we had a really nice time.
It was natural and fun. She's gorgeous.
And I've realized I'm not too shy around her.
(Something I've developed the past few years: Real Shyness. In fact I stutter around new people sometimes. It's annoying. But not permanent.)

Proving I can count on change where ever.
We're always going out and doing; are we not?
Embarking continually on simple and beautiful journeys.

And this burgeoning--and striking-- young woman is about to take another step, herself.
Warmest Congrats!
P.S. I barter in babysitting hours and coconut cupcakes.

On Being Purified

"The simple things are the most extraordinary, but only a pure heart can recognize them." --Coelho

I'm not saying I'm perfect by any stretch of the means. And what I'm referring to is the fact that if you determine to do what you need to do and feel all you need to feel to be sustained in trial, the process is is refining and therefor humbling. And you get the sensation of being purified.

For a time to follow, you appreciate the littlest things.

I wrote thank you notes to the therapists, the receptionist. The AP Bio high school teacher that taught me poignantly and passionately about Botulism (and other things) so I had less to learn of the condition in the crisis. How could I not? Over the past year, I've had the opportunity to thank the call center gal who put us "right through" for the most pivotal appointment I hope to ever have. And there's the staff at the clinic...

What I have is a special relationship with the professional: who happens to be a loving and familiar face from Church, who happened to answer a different phone, and happened to commit to run an errand, leaving from her post at the hospital, and happened to walk through the busy ER right into Danielle's room, and was there to give me a hug, interpret, and advise me when I happened to need her most. When I needed the exact things I'd received most.

I have a few extra Christmas cards to mail out this year.
It surely must be the simple things.

It's been a complete year since. Danielle was discharged as "resolved" from her last speech therapy appointment days ago, she got a kiss on the cheek and a red balloon on a string from her therapist. I stole a hug."Chariots of Fire" played in my head as we walked through the parking lot.

And this young woman and her family are so appreciative. To God, science, nature, humanity, love, prayers, etc. etc. To endure a simple copacetic ending to something so fantastic, has been a purifying joy as well.

If you would like, read Danielle's Botulism story here. It has many happy endings.

Remember

There was a beautiful religious leader of my faith who attempted to distinguish the most important word to be found in the dictionary. His conviction and age and wisdom found that one word: Remember.
Simply, all we have in life are our experiences, possessions, and relationships by way of our attitude.
I believe there truly is something after life (as there was before life) full of meaning and the only thing that will be different is that I'm minus physical proprietorship. My opinion.
Experiences? Sure. It is everything I learn with the perspective I have. Hopefully (I like to think) I welcome change because it is certain. And therefore, hopefully I progress as an individual--open and with meaning. It's a special thing.

Relationships? Absolutely. I believe there is one Source. Nothing angry or unorganized. But a self-actualized Person. A Father. Someone who looks like me, has been there before, and has an awesome authority. And I'm proving my relationship (to myself) with Him continuously. He loves me, He wants happiness and unspeakable joy for the likes of me. I try to accept that some times. ...I am too hard on myself to accept the responsibility of completely knowing, right now. Nonetheless, the only limitations on my potential with Him are self-imposed and I've been given every provision. Like everyone. It is always my choice how to prioritize. He is (beyond imagination) organized and functioning. We are in families and all families are connected. We are His. So true. Relationships are so important while we are all on our journeys. Yes, we are indeed all in this together. It's humanity.

And I? Okay, yes. I was brushing my teeth and getting my jeans on. An avid watcher of the Today Show, I watched the second plane hit live. And I stared out the window in my room. It was bright. Familiar, check. Perfectly still. No doom. Not a sound but my heart pounding. A mouth full of foam. Let's have it already. Where's the explosion for me? I went to school. And the teachers had the TVs on all day to watch. Conservative on-the-scene coverage. Respectful. But the talk was cracked, scared, speculative. And in true Government class fashion we tried to have a discussion. About a draft? We were seniors, after all. But what replaced a burning portion of my fear with realized faithfulness was the wise-cracking cool kid sitting next to me, who when asked if he would willingly go to war, without hesitation announced to the room while turning to me said, "Ya, I'd go to war for you."

Your turn. Remember what you were doing on Sept. 11th, 2001-- annually known as Patriot Day. Make a habit to remember.
Because what ever stigma you think is associated with the word "Patriot" and American Flags, the Pledge, Putting your hand on your heart, etc. remember for a brief moment, oh please, before being offended if the national anthem is played or someone prays to their own who ever God that every one has a nice time and is safe, or some family puts yellow ribbons up while their son lives and dies in Afghanistan... KNOW that if you can love this place for what it is and isn't and you care about the future of it, you are indeed a patriot, like me. I think you are sophisticated. I think you are open-minded. I think you're politically okay. Keep a bit of perspective. I think we all have the same concerns but each of us can emphasize for ourselves and impose on others, when we are in fact not arguing the same thing in its exactness.
You are my fellow American.

For the future of America,
in all my rights, privileges, and freedom, I invite-
Remember September 11th.
(Amen.)