Category Archives: adventures

A (Sort Of) Weekend Getaway

I’ve always wanted to go to Seattle.  We’ve lived in Arizona for going on nine years now, and it somehow seemed more likely that I’d finally get to go.  Arizona’s on the same side of the country at least.  But nope.  We’ve driven back across to the east coast twice now.  Gone to Florida.  Gone to Chicago.  Went to the San Francisco area once, San Diego a handful of times.

But no Seattle.

Well, because life is funny and ironic (and/or because God has a sense of humor), the husband and I are going on a last-minute trip to Seattle tomorrow, in the midst of a million other things that we have going on …. and we’re going to be there exactly long enough to sign all the paper work and pick up a car we just bought, and get in said car to begin the 20+ hour drive home.  No more, no less.  My first instinct was to have it shipped, because it wasn’t a super great time for a road trip  – even from someplace fun like Seattle – but it turns out that having it shipped would cost a good $500 more than flying up and driving it home ourselves.

So, yay?

My new ride.  Tegan has already named it Cinnamon.

My new ride. Tegan has already named it Cinnamon.

It’ll be a little adventure, and adventures are always a good thing.  And I DO get to see Seattle, however briefly. Mostly though, I’m happy that once we get the new car home we can put this particular stress to rest, and get on with our lives.  Ever since the accident, and all the accompanying…. stuff… to take care of, I have felt completely tapped out. The final little placement on the house of cards that made the whole thing crumble.

Now though, I’ll be able to cross something big off that ever-present cosmic to-do list, and move on to the next: In this case, tying up the 345 loose ends for the conference that is coming in less than four weeks, whether we’re ready or not; and getting my surgery scheduled for October so I can start praying that the second time is the charm.

And so it goes.

I came across this quote this morning, and found it rather perfect:

 

Nobody trips over mountains. It is the small pebble that causes you to stumble. Pass all the pebbles in your path, and you will find you have crossed the mountain.  ~ Author unknown

 

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Filed under adventures, life, random

Living Your Purpose

This past Saturday we got the opportunity to do something cool.  A fellow unschooling friend emailed to tell me about her sister, who is 5 months into a cross-country trip on horseback (how awesome is that??).  She was going to be traveling somewhat through our area, and wanted to know if we could help in any way.  I’d at first thought we could at least help with route info, since we do so much off-roading, but it turned out she was further south than we were familiar with.  We didn’t have a place to tether her horses for the night, and she wasn’t going to be close enough to our area to make that part practical anyway.  So we did the next best thing we could think of.

After a few phone conversations back and forth, we loaded up our trailer with a bale of hay, a bunch of water, the fold-able table we take camping, and a cooler packed with picnic fixings, a bunch of fruit, and some wine.  (It turns out the horses enjoyed pickles just as much the carrots and apples we’d brought, and while they were definitely interesting in sniffing the wine, they didn’t actually want to drink any :))

We met Sea and her horses at a lovely lake she’d found to camp at.

 

 

We unpacked all the food, and ending up eating – and visiting – late into the night.    It was a beautiful night, warm and dry, and the sky was full of stars (something you take for granted until you live in a city like Phoenix).  We became fast friends with the horses, and us humans easily chatted about everything from unschooling to science museums to following your dreams.

I went home that night feeling energized and inspired, and it wasn’t until the next day at church – during a sermon about living your purpose in life – that I fully realized why.  People who are following their dreams, no matter what those dreams may be, are always interesting and inspiring.  People who are living their purpose have to really LIVE.  You can’t ride across the country on horseback and do it halfway.   You have to commit, and you have to do it.

Wonderful evening, and wonderful lesson.

You can follow their inspiring journey on their blog, Free Range Rodeo.

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Filed under adventures, inspirational, passions

Where my book begins

 

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten ~Natasha Bedingfield

So Dan of Single Dad Laughing has done it again.  Every so often, he writes something that I can relate to so deeply that it almost physically hurts.  His recent post, Whose Life is it Anyway? now tops that list.  In it, he writes about his learning to live life on his own terms, rather than for someone else.  He tells of the process of finding his own voice, and ultimately leaving a church, a marriage, and a job on his path to happiness.

I’ve never left a marriage (in fact I consider myself very blessed – and lucky – that after having married at 19 with no earthly idea of who we were, that we were able to come into our own beside each other)  But I’ve left a church.  I’ve left a job. And six years ago, I left New Hampshire.  I left New England.  I left the entire east coast.

When I look back on old pictures, even of times that were happy, I will often feel a strange disconnect.  Sometimes I even feel a profound sadness.  I don’t know that person in those photos.  She’s a person who made choices not based on what she wanted (and honestly, she wouldn’t know what she wanted even if you asked her) but based on everyone else around her.  A person whose entire life… from the colleges she went to, to what she studied, to the kind of wedding she had, to what city she lived in, to what house she lived in… was decided, at least in part, by someone else.  She lived her life in a box.   And don’t get me wrong.  It was a nice box, a lovely box.  But it was a box all the same, and it wasn’t a box of her choosing.

I’m here to tell you that you can only live in a box for so long before the walls start closing in.  Before you start gasping for breath.  Before you start suffocating.

When people ask why we moved to Phoenix, I’m often left grasping for words.  It was a big decision, and there were many factors.  It was a joint decision too, so I can’t fairly speak for my husband.   But I can say out loud for the very first time – and without hesitation – that for me, the biggest reason was clear:

I was suffocating.

I was 32 years old, and I had no idea who I was.  I’d never made a decision on my own.  I’d never stopped trying to please everyone around me.  I’d never given more than a cursory thought to what it was that I wanted, so focused I was on what my family wanted, what society wanted, what the church wanted.

I couldn’t do it anymore.

So six years ago, I started living life on my own terms (and by the way, when I say “my” terms, I mean my terms within the larger framework of God’s terms.  Which, ironically – or not – is a concept I hadn’t even begun to grasp until I’d left the church I grew up in.)   It was the start of an adventure, to be sure, and a journey that is in turns exhilarating and terrifying and exhausting and just plain awe-inspiring.  For the first time in my entire life I’m getting to know and listening to ME.  Not society’s version of me, or my parent’s version of me, or even my husband’s version of me.  Just ME, the me I was individually created to be.

And it feels so good.

One of the greatest things about it though?  Once I started being true to myself, I realized that that respect, that authenticity, that truth that I was living started spilling out into the rest of my relationships as well.  It’s made me a better wife.  It’s made me a better mother.  Which makes sense when you think about it, because how can you really give of yourself if you don’t even know who “yourself” is?  How can you expect to have an authentic relationship with anyone if you can’t first be authentic with yourself?   I have heard it said over and over that people who are hurting hurt others.  So wouldn’t the opposite be true?  That those who show love to themselves are then able to love others?

I spent three decades being partially immobilized by fear, anxiety, insecurity, and “what ifs.”  Moving across the country was the catalyst that began to change all of that.  It made me feel brave.  It made me feel like if I could do that, I could do anything.  And do anything I will!

I’m not suggesting that a 1800 mile cross-country move is the answer for everyone.  But you know what, maybe it is.  Or maybe it’s leaving that job.  Or that church.  Or that unhealthy relationship.  Maybe it’s taking that pottery class, or belly dancing lesson, or volunteering in that soup kitchen.  Maybe it’s the haircut you’ve always been too scared to get, or the tattoo you were afraid your dad would disapprove of, or the hobby your friends think is silly.

Two days ago, I sent in my enrollment paperwork for yoga teacher training, something I have been wanting to do – and putting off for various reasons – for years now.  When I woke up the next morning, I felt more excited than I’ve felt in years.  And it wasn’t just about the yoga.  I was excited about life.   I’m excited about all of it.   I’m excited about the yoga; I’m excited about new friends; I’m excited about the shiny, colorful rings that I’ll transform into lovely chain maille jewelry;  I’m excited about the mess on my head that will one day be beautiful and mature dreadlocks;  I’m excited to know that I won’t be afraid to just chop it all off if I change my mind;  I’m excited to get another tattoo;  I’m excited to get better with my camera;  I’m excited about cupcakes;  I’m excited to write and to read and to learn and to grow;  I’m excited for road trips and park days and singing loudly with my children and having drinks with my girlfriends;  I’m excited about new adventures with the kids and new experiences with my husband.

I’m excited, for the first time in my life, to be REAL.

This.  This is where my book begins.  And it. is. awesome.

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Filed under about me, adventures, Arizona, learning, life, passions, random

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The Zoo

Phoenix Zoo, December 2005
Phoenix Zoo, April 2011

Pictured above are the boys at the zoo for their very first visit, one month after we moved here…. and at the zoo today – along with the girl – for their (??) visit.  It’s still just as fun as it was 5 1/2 years ago.

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Filed under adventures, field trips, memories

Another Lesson Learned

I took Driver’s Ed when I was 16. I remember:

~Andrew, the guy I sat beside, flirted with, became friends with, and eventually dated (I would later break up with him because I met my now-husband)

~Lisa, the girl who could turn just about anyone’s words into an innuendo, and frequently did so

~The day I sat through class with my faced numbed up and gauze in my mouth because I’d just had four teeth pulled in preparation for braces

~The checklist we had to follow every time we got behind the wheel, which always, always concluded with fastening our seat belt before we even started the car. I didn’t always wear my seat belt as a passenger, but I have always worn it as a driver, thanks to getting the habit so ingrained so many years ago in Driver’s Ed.

We spent today off-roading in Sedona, and I’m thinking of Driver’s Ed not because we were driving in places like this…

but because tonight I was reminded of the importance of a checklist, and of getting into good habits.

I’ve blogged before about my new camera, and of the fact that I’m still trying to learn to use it (without relying on the automatic mode) I have had moments of extreme frustration, to be sure, but I finally thought I was getting the hang of it, and starting to produce more keepers than not. So tonight, when I uploaded my 200+ pictures from the day onto my laptop, I was devastated to see that with very few exceptions they were all blurry, soft, and various other degrees of “off.” After a brief moment of mentally berating myself, I realized that my error was simple… it was on the wrong setting (and I then began berating myself anew) Mike had changed a setting when he was experimenting last night, and he’d never changed it back. And I never checked it when I started snapping today. I’m relieved that I’m not in fact just the worst photographer ever, but I’m oh so frustrated with myself that I made such a stupid mistake. And I’m disappointed that I missed on out some amazing photographs of an amazing place.

Next time – and every time – I will check my settings first.

Fuzzy pictures aside, we had a wonderful day, the kind that makes me glad I’m alive, and glad I live in Arizona. The whole thing was Spencer’s idea:

It was a trip he’d been wanting to make for months now. We planned on going on his birthday, but got rained out. We rescheduled for another day, but, alas, we got rained out again. Today was our day, and it didn’t disappoint.

We did some good rock-crawling, enjoyed some amazing views, had a picnic in the middle of red rocks, and watched the kids climb, jump and play.

Yup, ’twas a darn good day, made even better by the fact that we capped it off with gelato.

And next time I’ll check the settings on my camera.

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Filed under adventures, off-roading, pictures, Spencer

Appreciating History

I had one teacher in junior high and high school who made studying history interesting. He was what you’d consider a “tough” teacher – you definitely couldn’t get away with anything under his watch – but he was good, and he was the only teacher I ever had that shared history in such a way that I actually enjoyed it.  Other than the classes I had with that one particular teacher, there are not words enough to describe just how bored I was with history.  It was truly not my “thing.”  All those dates and names and wars and treaties and memorization……
Yes, I struggled with history.  As an adult, I appreciate its significance on the world and the country we live in today (though I still couldn’t recount 90% of the details that I had to memorize for my tests in school), but it’s surely taken me awhile to get here.
The kind of history that I do love, and have always loved, is the kind that I can touch.  The kind that isn’t in a book but is right in front of me.  The kind that I can see, and feel, and close my eyes and imagine that I was there, as a participant and not just an observer.  I’ve taken some neat field trips with the kids, to places like the Pioneer Living History Museum, and Sahuaro Ranch, but they still weren’t as meaningful to me personally as a piece of history that has not been restored or re-created, turned into something that’s specifically meant to be educational, or designed to be a must-see attraction.  It’s still not the same as something that just is.
Last weekend, we joined a few other vehicles on a way-too-fun off-roading trip.  We crossed rivers,
Drove down cliffs,
enjoyed the desert scenery,
stopped to appreciate an old foundation,
and met Miner Bob.
Miner Bob lives in a cabin that’s been standing since the late 1800’s.  He graciously talked to us, showed us around, and let us wander in and out of his cabin.  I loved how sturdy it still was, how simply but beautifully made.  I loved knowing that it’s been there, out in the middle of the desert, for over a hundred years.  I loved imagining the people who once stayed there, using the fireplace, walking the land, and just living their lives.  It made me think of Thoreau, and Walden, and “living deep and sucking the marrow out of life.”
Now that’s history.  And as a side note, I loved our old home in New Hampshire for all the same reasons.  Unfortunately, two of the boys missed the little impromptu visit to the past because they were off playing in this:
And getting an education of an entirely different sort 🙂
We caught up with everyone when we reached our destination – the teeny little old town of Cleator – where we stopped for a bite, and a beer, at the bar.
A bar that no doubt had a lot of interesting history of its own.

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Filed under about me, adventures, off-roading, unschooling

My Childhood, My Kids

I never want to be that parent who pushes her own childhood likes, hobbies, dreams, and pasttimes onto her children. I would never force any of them to play an instrument just because I enjoyed it. I would never make Tegan take gymnastics lessons against her will to make up for my own failure to realize my Olympic dreams. Some of the beauty of unschooling is recognizing that your children are their own people, with their own interests, their own passions, and their own dreams. I introduce them to as many opportunities as I can, but in the end it’s their decision: whether they want to dabble, to try it once and never again, to explore it every day for the rest of their lives, or to never explore it at all. They may share some of my loves…. and they may share none of them. They may introduce me to things I never knew I’d love as well. Either way, I will be their facilitator, their cheerleader, and their biggest supporter.

One of the great things about being their parent though is that I do get to introduce them to things I once enjoyed myself. What they do with it is up to them, but if they enjoy it too…. well, any time you can share joy with your child is a good thing indeed. Yesterday I had an opportunity to share with them one of my greatest childhood joys:

Spencer loves horses and was happy to go, but didn’t want to ride. Paxton decided to join us on the trail ride, and was really looking forward to it.

At six, Everett just made the age cut-off for the trail ride, but chose to start off with something a little less intimidating than an hour long trek through the desert.

And Tegan was thrilled with the chance to ride a horse, and didn’t even have an objection to the required helmet (she’d really been hoping to wear a cowboy hat)

Horseback riding played such a huge role in my childhood, and re-living it caused such a heady rush of emotions that I could have wept right there in the middle of the desert. The smell of the leather, the creak of the saddle, the little grunty noises the horse made when it went up hills. The swish of the tail, the clop-clop-clop of the feet picking their way around the rocks. Bliss.

Paxton’s horse was two ahead of mine, and I couldn’t really tell by the back of his head if he was enjoying himself or not. So I was glad when my sister relayed his first comment to me: “The only way today could get any better was if we got to take the horse home with us at the end.”

🙂

All four truly enjoyed themselves, and it made my heart happy to see it. I’m glad I got to share such a wonderful memory with them, even if just for a day. Will any of them become future full-time equestrians because of it? Probably not. And that’s ok.

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The Land of the Free

I was in a mood on the fourth of July. For 364 days of the year, I don’t think about New Hampshire… it never enters my consciousness at all. But on the fourth of the July, I miss our tiny NH town and its holiday festivities. I don’t even know if it’s the actual town I miss, so much as it is the idea of it… the whole All-American, baseball-and-apple-pie, small town goodness of it all. We’d watch the parade (and the kids would happily scramble to catch us much candy as they could, tossed from the passing floats), walk through the vendors eating our hot dogs and cotton candy, and return later in the evening to claim our spot on the hill to watch the fireworks overhead.

There were of course lots of various places to watch fireworks around the valley, as well as celebrations, parades, and concerts… but we’ve never been before, they were sure to be crowded, a lot of them cost money, and many were far away.

So we spent the greater part of the morning of the 4th sitting – and occasionally moping – around, trying to decide what to do. As exciting as that was, we really didn’t want to spend the entire long weekend doing it. So at the last minute, we called Mom and Dad and invited ourselves up north. They can watch fireworks right from their driveway, and because they’re far away, the noise is not an issue (an important consideration for a 2 year old’s first fireworks experience). We watched the fireworks, spent the night, and ended up having a beautiful day driving and geocaching in the Mogollon Rim, the likes of which we couldn’t have experienced in Andover, New Hampshire.

All in all, an unexpectedly nice weekend, and a really lovely holiday.

Dressed for bed and ready for the fireworks:

Camping on Maba’s floor:

I was about to write that this had nothing to do with Independence Day… then realized it had everything to do with Independence Day.  Paxton and Everett trying on their great grandfather’s custom-made Navy dress blues from World War II.  I miss him, and wish the kids could have known him.

Mogollon Rim, another beautiful corner of the world:

Happy Fourth of July to all.

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Filed under adventures, family, holidays

Fish, Mud, and Puberty

Last week, we joined a group of homeschoolers and checked out the new aquarium here in the valley. We clearly weren’t the only ones with the same idea, as it was crazy and crowded. We all enjoyed it though, and look forward to going back someday when it’s not as busy (ie: when it’s not still newly opened and 110 degrees outside)

I was catching up with a friend while the kids played in the playground area.  She asked me how we’d been doing, and I answered with my fairly standard, “Good.  Busy.”  “What have you been busy with?”

Stumped.

What have I been busy with?  So much of it is just… life. Life with an active two year old who’s in my arms a large portion of the day.  Life with a busy six year old and a driven nine year old and an inquisitive thirteen year old.  There’s school (my school) and summer movies, and playdates, and an endless list of weekend activities.  The days are quickly getting away from me, and I continually need to remind myself to breathe, to soak it in, to take the time to sleep, shower, go to the bathroom ENJOY IT.

On Saturday, we took the kids to something called Mighty Mud Mania.  Apparently it’s an annual event, but this is the first I’d heard of it.  It’s only been going on for 35 years, so you can see where I’d have trouble. But now I know, so we went.  It was a long, hot, and fun day.

I’ve noticed lately – when I’m going through my hundreds and hundreds of snapshots that I’ve taken at various places – that there are far fewer current pictures of Spencer than the other three.  I was somewhat wracked with guilt and confusion over this (why am I excluding one of my children?!) until I realized why.  He’s either beside me when I’m taking them, or he’s off doing his own thing…. unless it’s 3 in the afternoon, in which case he’s sleeping on the couch.  He’s at “that” age right now, that in-between, not quite a kid/not quite a teenager age.  When we were at the mud event, he enjoyed himself, but didn’t really want to do any of the activities.  He was happy to hang out with us, drink his water, and watch.

I remember with great clarity – oh so painful clarity – what it was like to be thirteen.  I was awkward and confused.  I didn’t fit in anywhere.  My body was doing strange things.  I had a group of not always nice “friends” who sometimes treated me so badly that I dreaded going to school.  I was the one with frizzy hair and bad skin.  I was mercilessly taunted by older kids.  I had a tragically huge and unrequited crush on a boy who was four years older than me.  I had no idea who I was or where I was going or what I wanted.

I was not yet ME.

I share this humiliating history to show that I can fully commiserate with my barely-a-teenager son, but also to give a praise of thanks that he is so much better off than I was.   He knows who he is, and a great majority of the time he’s happy.  The friends he makes are true friends.  He has a close relationship with us, and with his grandparents.  He’s excited about life and he’s following his interests (currently that means hours at the computer, researching the ins and outs of operating a construction business) And the great torture that was provided to me at school?  Not an issue for him.  He’s able to become a young man as gracefully – and painlessly – as possible.

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Filed under adventures, family, field trips, growing up