Christmas in Colorado

This year we celebrated Christmas in Colorado, going to visit Heather's brother, Jason, and his family.  The whole family, in fact (her parents and other siblings), made the trip.  In many ways, it was an unusual Christmas: no fewer than five people got extremely sick, some of them staying in bed to the extent that I feel like I didn't even get to see them.  Then there was the age discrepancy.  Aydan and Brennan are significantly older than their cousins.  The closest is in first grade.  So there was a very different feel about what each of the separate families wanted to do--particularly in light of what their children COULD do--and very little cohesive activity.  

But despite all that, the trip culminated today in a much anticipated event; the big Christmas present for the boys: our return to the slopes.  Several years ago we all tried our hand at snowboarding (except Brennan--he was too young and had to ski), and after two exhausting, truly frustrating days we finally got the hang of it.  I was a little worried as I picked up my gear this morning.  1) I had injured my hamstring a couple weeks ago and was still feeling less than 100% in its use; and 2) After three years, is snowboarding just like riding a bicycle, or would I have forgotten everything?

 I'm glad to say my (albeit, rapidly aging) body remembered what to do and I had a great time teaching Brennan and making runs with Aydan.  Not to toot my own horn, but I did pretty well out there, and had a blast.

 Snow-capped mountains are always beautiful.  The scenery was enhanced late in the day by a light downfall of flakes.  Though it was cold, it was absolutely wonderful.

I tweaked my hamstring a bit, and I'm certain my back and legs will be angry with me tomorrow, but the biggest thing was trying to keep icicles out of my beard!  All in all it was a great day.  I'm excited to get to bed early tonight and eager to head out early tomorrow and get back to good ol' Texas.

Lamenting the Loss of Lulu

On 12/12/12, an ominous day, our dear dog Lulu died.  She had been sick for several days, refusing to eat and being very slow to move.  The plan was to go visit the vet on the weekend, but poor Lulu did not make it through the week.

The boys and I took the day off from school, drove to the country and said goodbye to our faithful companion.  We took pains to fully engage in the process, so as to help in the closure and the access of the emotions we were feeling.  On the drive, we listened to songs that made us think of her, spoke of our favorite memories of her, and planned our funeral.  When we arrived we dug the hole.  Finally, we laid Lulu to rest and said our final goodbyes.  It was all very sad.

The house is very sad and empty now, especially when the boys are gone.  No longer do I have an instant companion upon my homecoming, or an eager friend to wake with me and go for a walk.  And while there is an empty chair in the corner now, it is helpful to think of the times when it was full.

I went back through my other blog to find all instances where Lulu was mentioned.  If you care to read them, they are listed below.

http://hopelesslyuncool.blogspot.com/2008/04/vicious-dog-eating-monster.html

http://hopelesslyuncool.blogspot.com/2008/06/just-few-recent-photos.html

http://hopelesslyuncool.blogspot.com/2009/09/seattle-tx.html

http://hopelesslyuncool.blogspot.com/2007/06/winds-of-change-are-blowingand-its.html

And finally, a review of Lulu's life in pictures.  Goodbye, sweet girl.  

 Day One: Sleek and Black

 Lulu first claims the chair

 Love at first sight

Lulu as a Gray Old Lady

Lulu as I'll Always Remember Her

The Main Thing is to Keep the Maine Thing the Main Thing

I know that this will seem less like an update on my life than a recollection of a now-distant memory, but ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my trip to Maine.  

I arrived late enough on Thursday evening that I elected to sleep in the airport.  This had been the plan all along, but when I arrived I realized that the Bangor, Maine airport in more on par with a Mansfield, OH Lahm Airport than a Dallas-Fort Worth airport.  In my mind, I figured sleeping under a bench would be easy and anonymous, as it was when I was once stranded in Kansas City on a return from a previous Fall Fling.  However, I was one of two people in the airport when cleaning operations shut down around 2 am.  To complicate matters, there was a hotel attached to the airport, so I felt like a bum sleeping in a corner rather than springing for a room.  But I'm cheap and get over small embarrassments very quickly, so this is where I laid until the 5 am boarding crowd woke me up.  You may see through the arm of the chair the bright blue of my newly acquired sleeping bag.  I broke it out halfway through the night and slept soundly, wondering why I hadn't jumped into it from the beginning.  

The kind people at Central Maine Harley Davidson were kind enough to supply me with my transportation for the day.  

You'll see a more complete shot of the bike soon, but I pulled off the road to photo the complete package: Me, Maine, motorcycle and fall colors.  

 Years ago I starting making plans for a documentary that would chronicle my road trip tracing the perimeter of America (it was to have been called "From Sea to Shining Sea").  At that time I discovered a bird sanctuary in Ellsworth that I planned to stop at.  I was delighted to see that much of what I planned to visit for the documentary could be seen on this trip.  So in a sense, I have begun to complete that vision (although I accidentally deleted all video footage that I took on the trip.  Whoops.).  

 The name of the naturalist now eludes me (the perils of posting months later), but it was neat the way the trails from her home--which was the center of the bird sanctuary--led from the busy street into a hushed wood.  Spaced throughout the trails were quotes taken from her journal.  I thought this one particularly apropos.  

 Every guidebook or travel site will tell you to stop at the Trenton Bridge Lobster Pound.  I did.  It was okay.  

 However, this assessment is probably due more to a realization I discovered halfway through this lobster: I'm not all that crazy about seafood.  

I camped in Acadia National Park on Mount Desert Island.  It was far more toursity than I expected.  One of the guys at the dealership said I'd probably run into more "leaf peepers" at this time of year.  I thought the term was funny...and sadly filed myself within its ranks.  I rode the whole day and saw beautiful sites which included a fjord (Somes Sound meets the requirements).  

Both coastal vistas... 

 ...and lighthouses were plentiful.  

 The next morning I took the motorcycle back to exchange it for a car for the longer portion of the drive.  As I was leaving the park I was entranced by the affect of the light filtering through the colorful canopy and the mist on the road.  It was beautiful.  

At the airport I retrieved my mint-green mount and took to the coastal highway.  Just prior to the trip I purchased new albums by Mumford and Sons, the Avett Brothers and Delta Rae.  Delta Rae was by far the most-listened to on the trip.  Their music is just so powerful.  

 With a glorious soundtrack blaring and the windows open wide, I discovered idyllic streams...

 ...backwoods cemeteries (found completely by accident, and perhaps the most secluded spot of the trip)...

 ...and even caught a beautiful Monarch butterfly.  Since I had one in my collection already (and had no way to take it home) I let it go.  

 This funky little place near the north-eastern tip of Maine had awesome blueberry pastries.  

 The blueberry fields provided some beautiful color.  

 I spent the next few nights in Herring Cove Provincial Park, just across the border in Canada.  One of the most spiritual, profoundly moving moments of the trip was watching the sun rise.  I was able to see the sky lighten, the colors change, and then view the sun break the rim of the earth as it emerged from the ocean and rose into the sky.  It was beautiful and I reflected on the wonder and power of light, and thanked God for that time with him.  

 I had the cove all to myself, since the park was closed...

 ...and spent all day Sunday in this little deck, perched above the beach, reading Scripture and journaling.  

 Before taking my perch, I walked the beach.  It was the warmest it had been all weekend, so I took my shoes off the enjoy the stroll.  Only the sand quickly disappeared and tiny pebbles took their place.  They were agonizing to walk on.  Thankful, Chuck Dorka prepared me for this moment: using flotsam and jetsam I created a swamp walker out of washed up boards and rope.  

 It occurred to me that this must have been how coastal people developed the flip flop.  

 Herring Cove is just across the bridge from Lubec, Maine, a quaint little fishing village.  

 Quoddy Head Lighthouse was the coolest such structure I encountered.   

 It also brought me to the far-easternmost point on the trip.  Here my toes touch the water that separates me from Europe.  I have a similar picture on a similarly stoney beach in Laide, Scotland.  

 I added a stone to the tiny stack of rocks on this outcropping, to mark my travels to the far east of our nation.  

 The town of Perry is halfway between the North Pole and the Equator.  

These last few pictures show my final day of travel: back from Calais to the airport.  This is what I look like after several days without showering.  

So I revived a sacred rite, "The All-Under Club" and plunged into this chilling river to clean up a bit.  It was actually quite refreshing.  Sadly, the footage of this daring feat has now been lost.  

There it is.  A great trip all around.  Hope you enjoyed the update.  

What Have You Been Doing for the Past Six Months?

Six Months of Hair

I know I haven't been the best about posting updates here very frequently, but I plan on a couple more updates throughout the course of the week (which I have off from work for the Thanksgiving holiday). Check back soon.  

Since I Have A Minute...

Time is always a precious commodity.  Any spare minute should be invested wisely.

But I've had a hard time doing that lately. And it comes at a time when capitalizing on "free time" is of the utmost importance, because "spare time" is in short supply.  I do not have a free weekend for the rest of the month--including the one after Thanksgiving--due to basketball tournaments.  Every week day I go to work at 7:00 or 7:30 and leave around 6:00 or 7:00, due to basketball practice.

But today practice it out early because we are hosting a volleyball tournament game.  So I sat down to make up work I missed today (did I mention I was out on a field trip and so I'll be playing catch-up) and thought, "I have a little time to myself."

Immediately, I remembered that I still have to vote, still have to workout, and have some tasks to catch up on at home.

So is life.  For those of you waiting on an update about the Maine trip, or just hoping to get caught up on the happenings of my life I'm afraid you'll just have to wait.  Sorry.

T Minus 8 Days and Counting

In the final weeks leading up to the Maine Fall Fling I have had some awesome developments.  I have secured lodging for the first night of the trip: a campsite in Acadia National Park (did you know that Maine has a fjord?!  It's true.  Somes Sound fits the description...and I'm going to see it).  I've also found a spot for later in the trip (I'm intentionally keeping this leg of the journey a bit more fluid).  Herring Cove Provincial Park (actually in Canada--not sure if it's New Brunswick or Novia Scotia, but up there.  And actually, it's in the Atlantic.) closes this coming Saturday.  But the lovely woman I spoke with told me I could stay there anyway, and that she would try to arrange for a fire pit and some fire wood to be left for me.  And the best part?  Chances are good that I'll be the only one in the whole park.  How awesome is that?
Other things seemed promising, but did not materialize.  Machias Seal Island is the summer nesting ground for Atlantic Puffins...but they're already long gone.  I was so excited to see a puffin, but alas, for this trip it is not to be.  I'm starting to feel like this is a place I might like to visit again in the future, though, so I'm tucking it away for later.

The Herring Cove campsite got me thinking: could this be the north-eastern-most extreme I've traveled to in the United States?  So I looked it up.  Eastern: yes; Northern: not even close.  So I charted out my travels to America's perimeter and this is what I've found.
Farthest North (in ascending order):
Calais, ME: 45.1889 degrees N
Duluth, MN: 46.7833 degrees N
and the winner...
Seattle, WA: 47.6097 degrees N
(If I include international travels the list continues:)
Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada: 49.883 degrees N
Amsterdam, The Netherlands: 52.3700 degrees N
and at the top of my world travels (literally)
Laide, Scotland: 57.850 degrees N

Curious about my eastern travels?  I was.
New York, NY: 74.0064 degrees W
Boston, MA: 71.0603 degrees W
Manchester, NH: 71.4553 degrees W
and the eastern champ (soon to be declared)...
Calais, ME: 67.2792 degrees W
(here again Laide would win if international travel was being weighed: it's just 5.5420 degrees W of the Prime Meridian.)

Since I was on a roll, I went onto south and west.
Farthest South:
San Antonio, TX: 29.4239 degrees N
Siesta Key, FL: 27.3017 degrees N
(I didn't dwell on the south too much.  I am, after all, a northerner at heart.)

Farthest West:
San Diego, CA: 117.1564 degrees W
Los Angeles, CA: 118.2428 degrees W
Portland, OR: 122.6750 degrees W
and just edging out Portland for the victory...
Seattle, WA: 122.3331 degrees W

So I've been to the south-western corner of the country, lived for a summer at it's northern-most point (St. John, ND),  and will now see the north-eastern tip.  How cool to remember all those trips and the great memories associated with them.  How blessed to continue to have more travels and stick more far-flung pins into the map!

525,600 Minutes

I have a friend who teaches Show Choir and helps with the school musicals and is big into musical theater.  Based on her recommendation, I just recently watched the film version of the musical "Rent."  On the whole, "Rent" is (and I know that die-hard fans would stone me for saying this) not that great.  It's okay.  But I much prefer oldies like "Man of La Mancha" and "Pippin."  To me, the story has to be significant.  Even if "Rent" had more of a plot than "disenfranchised bohemians deal with drugs, AIDS and...life" the music isn't exceptional.  Some songs are quite good, but others leave me cold.

HOWEVER (and it is a big however), I absolutely love the show opener, "Seasons of Love."  If I listen to it there is a strong chance it will get stuck in my head and I'll sing it over and over for days.  Great tune.  Great message.  Perhaps what I like most is its question, "How do you measure a year?"

I've written elsewhere about my frequent annual meditations: New Years (obviously), my birthday, the end of summer/start of a school year.  Well, with this song running through my head I keep thinking about how I would measure this last year.  One of my most often-repeated mental exercises these days is to think back on what I would have been doing this time last year.  This was especially true when I was contemplated being married vs. being alone.  But enough time has passed that I am now comparing the early days of being alone to what it is like now.  The big difference at this point is my workout regimen.  Unlike last year, I am not working out at all and eating as rarely and as lightly as I can.  For fun I thought I would do some general numbers to "measure the year."
Time spent eating: 65,700 minutes (6 meals a day, 30 minutes per meal)
Time spent lifting: 21,900 minutes (an average of 60 minutes per day)
Do you want to hear a really depressing figure?
Time spent painting: 6,000 minutes (just 10 hours)

So I'm reevaluating my goals.  I'm looking at how I'll spend and measure the next year.  One big (anticipated) highlight will be the Maine trip.  In one year I will have visited two places (Europe and Maine) that I've wanted to see for a long time.  Also, I'd love to have more "cups of coffee" with friends, see more "sunsets" and meditate on God's creation, savor both the laughter and the strife, and enjoy everything that God brings into my life.

A Brief Post from the Front

It is not my habit to blog while at school, but I am overcome with excitement and thought I should jot a quick note.

One month from now I will be riding a motorcycle along the coast of Maine.  I called today to finalize all the necessary reservations and I am so pumped.  It's going to be awesome.

So...what to do for the next month?  Well there's school.  Another awesome school year is already in full swing.  I am loving my job.  There's also days of 100+ degree temperatures to endure.  The big highlight weather-wise?  I dip to the high 80's this weekend.  Oh well--it's better than nothing.

I'm excited.  Look for countdowns leading up to the trip and updates following!

Ok, ok, ok...Just ONE More

Subtitle: The First 100 Miles

Several divergent thoughts came into my head as I was waxing eloquent about summer, but they didn't fit the flow of that writing.  So before I take a break from blogging in favor of preparing for school, I'll jot them down here.

As you can see, I purchased a motorcycle this summer.  I really didn't intend to.  I took a class in the late spring to get my license, and it was a blast.  I got my license in order to take an autumn trip to Maine, during which I would ride a motorcycle along the coast.  The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to ride here, now.  So When I found a good deal on a bike I really like I jumped at it.  It came slightly used, and in a short period of time I put one hundred miles on the bike.

I'm also thinking of a metaphorical "first one hundred miles."  I have been "on my own" now for just over a year.  Heather moved out last July, and although I earnest hoped to be reconciled, by the beginning of the new year it was obvious that was not going to happen.  After that realization set it, and after the pain of the events surrounding the separation began to lessen, it was a bit like emerging from a bomb shelter.  True, when I first picked my head up and looked around, the world seemed barren and charred.  But as my eyes adjusted to the new landscape, the lack of houses and trees and the discernible world that I knew, I saw opportunity.  I actually feel guilty saying this.  I feel like I should still be sad that I am divorced, but I am not.  I feel like I should lament the loss of a very real and very large dream for my life, but I have done that and I don't particularly want to go back.  Call it looking on the bright side, call it moving on, call it whatever you want....I'm living again.

This new life is a curious one.  I'm sad I don't always have my kids.  The house can be lonely at times.  But (I believe I've written about this before) there is a certain joy and liberty in not having to care if "she" likes my clothes, or my motorcycle, or my hair, or my beard.  There is greater flexibility to run off to a new, far away destination or hang out with friends when it is "her" week with the boys.  This summer with my sons, without relational drama or being in a one-sided marriage, has been one of the most enjoyable in recent memory.  And true, a lot of that has to do with another perk of not being married: a new relationship.  I understand that many will consider that I am moving too fast or I am in denial of what has happened, but I'm happy to be dating my wonderful friend Brandi and we have really enjoyed the summer together.  As my friend Michael would say, "It makes a big difference to go from having someone in your life who doesn't really like you that much to someone who really appreciates everything about you."  It is true, and for that I'm thankful.

So there it is.  The first one hundred miles has been a bit bumpy, but the road has emerged onto a coastal route with what looks to be a magnificent view.  Time to start a new school year and see where the road leads.