Pure Michigan

In mid-July, I joined my parents on a trip to Michigan. Pure Michigan, if you’ve seen the commercials. We left early on a Friday morning, stopping for coffee and lunch along the way. Upon arrival at our hotel, Pops and I napped while Mom busied herself. We later headed to Comerica Park for a Detroit Tigers game. They had a rather pathetic showing, namely a rattling seventh inning. The rest of their four game series--the length of our trip--followed suit. I felt slightly better about the state of the Atlanta Braves' bullpen after witnessing the horror in Detroit. (Note: Time has since passed and the Tigers have not resumed their winning ways.) When the British Open was not playing, baseball was. I was thankful the Tigers had a double header on Saturday (plus a Sunday afternoon game), for it gave us something to watch as we spent the time with my grandparents. And because golf, snooze.

I wasn’t sure if I was more excited for Bagel Factory or to see my grandparents. I'm joking, of course. The bagels did not disappoint--they never do, and were enjoyed each morning of our stint in Michigan. We also had coffee, fancy coffee some days, to accompany bagel goodness. The only problem with this design was Grandma and Grandpa were as thrilled to feed us as they were see us, often making plans for lunch moments after our morning arrival. Food is love.

The getaway was all-in-all successful. I was (finally) able to see where my grandparents are living. My grandma and grandpa made the moved to assisted living some time ago, and I haven't been to visit since prior to that time. Grandpa gave me an extensive tour of their digs. And while we were touring, every single person stopped to ask him how my grandma was doing. It truly was heartwarming. There was not a single person that passed my grandpa did not know by name (as well they seemed to recognize him). He appeared to be an 'on duty' senior caretaker, often directing elders to their respective locations. He describes the place as jail and jokes, rather darkly, their ‘next move’ is to the cemetery across the street. And while I understand the need to vent, he seems to be well-adjusted to his not so new surroundings.

In addition, I was able to meet one of my grandmother's caretakers, who was absolutely wonderful. My great aunts, whom I absolutely adore, also stopped in for a visit. And their visit was immediately followed by my aunt, uncle, cousins, and one of their kids popping in. So I (met and) saw lots of people on this last-minute, quick trip.

I did not intend to write, as much as I intended to upload pictures for this post. And while I have provided an overall recap of the trip, it doesn't actually recount the emotion of this journey. I needed a break from work. My grandparents are always requesting visitors. I have wanted to see how and where they are living. My parents had plans to travel. It made sense to join. Though my grandparents are growing older--Grandma will turn 91 and Grandpa will be 90 in September, they are doing much better than they have been in awhile. So they can hate on their new home as much as they would like, their quality of life has increased (through my eyes). I can, rather selfishly, worry less. Beyond that, I don’t know. I don’t really have the words for the emotions I feel. I guess I just feel lucky to still have my grandparents in my life.

Southern Exposure

Before you realized you’ve lost half your day, I'll give you fair warning. This is an epically long play-by-play of my weekend down South. If you’ve just got a minute, I won’t hold you up. Here’s what you need to know: The preseason ranked No. 8 Clemson Tigers defeated the fifth ranked Georgia Bulldogs at Memorial Stadium, more popularly known as Death Valley. That’s a win for this girl in the brother/sister rivalry. On Sunday, the Atlanta Braves let me all sorts of down at Turner Field. And Monday I got to spend with two folks I adore – my brother, C.D.H., and his girlfriend – and don’t see nearly enough. Along the way, I introduced Boyfriend to my past – friends, college town, etc. – and that meant… a whole lot of Southern exposure.

On Friday night, I met Boyfriend at Union Station for the quick train ride to Baltimore Washington International Airport. He insisted on being eight hours early for our 8:15 pm flight,  for fear of missing the last plane bound for Atlanta, GA of the evening. He really had nothing at stake. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand the urgency in being HOURS early to the airport. As far as I’m concerned, arriving while the plane is boarding is ideal. But I guess that’s a difference the two of us will have to work on. Being extra early meant we had time for a five-course airport meal. I can honestly say that’s the first time in my recorded memory I have had food from the airport. Alas, the sub-par food was made up for in lengthy conversation. It’s really sad that I’ve allowed my schedule to get beyond my control, and now have to consider pre-departure time as 'date time'. So – no surprise – we arrived it to Atlanta late, got our rental car, and arrived at Brother’s place even later. This was opening weekend of college football; I could hardly contain my excitement – the Bulldogs were set to play the Tigers in Clemson. And I was going to be there to kick things off right.

Flashback: This was College GameDay’s second trip to dear ol’ Clemson. Their first was in 2006, during my sophomore year of college. My friends and I camped throughout the night to be front and center inside the magic GameDay parameters. And when I use the term “camp”, what I actually mean is we stood on our feet… in a single file line waiting for the 10:00 am show. To validate all my hard efforts, my then 83-year old grandma saw me on television multiple times during the span of the two, now three, hour program. I’m glad I have her to document my big break the patience I exhibited. J.L.W. and I – shockingly – couldn’t walk after 22 hours on our feet. So instead of tailgating and further amping up for the 8:00 pm start, we found ourselves recovering in bed. By game time, we were ready to take on the Ramblin’ Wreck from Georgia Tech… and another four hours of standing. Ahhh yes, those were the days.

When you stay up too late, morning, especially early morning, comes quickly. And that it did. Before the clock struck eight, Boyfriend and I were on the road to Pendleton, SC for brunch with the R.L.’s before tailgating. My charges – now five and eight – have certainly sprouted in my absence. I could tell you tale after tale of my time with that tribe; they’re brilliant bubbles of goodness. (I’ll spare you a second flashback, for now.) My time with them was cherished. But now I have to focus on recovering; I miss this family oh so much. From there, Boyfriend and I laced up our walking shoes and proceeded to Clemson. To embrace the Solid Orange spirit, we stopped off downtown. There he saw it all – five bars and 13 sub shops. The newest addition: Jimmy Johns. The town of Clemson is clearly moving up, Up, UP. The next stop: Tailgating. Our first mission was to find J.M.M., her husband, and crew in the sea of orange near Doug Kingsmore Stadium. It rained, so we stayed awhile longer than intended. But this ended up being a win as Boyfriend found a fellow Bostonian, from his neighboring hometown, to talk him off his the-South-is-scary ledge.

Then it was on to tailgating with J.L.W. and gang. This was a moving tailgating... allowing me to give Boyfriend a through-campus tour as we migrated back downtown. The insanely overpriced tickets I had seen before my departure were hardly available outside the stadium gates prior to the game. I was not wasting time with the ridiculous price tags and lack of tickets any further. And while it pains me a little still to have missed the opportunity to see the Tigers live, downtown ended up being a lot of fun. Until the bar closed before the end of the game. And we had to evade an oncoming riot.

Flashback 2: In Clemson… on Saturdays – all bets for bars and booze are off at midnight.

(I do think for this particular occasion, all would have welcomed the idea of an open bar serving only water and beverages of the non-alcoholic variety. I suppose that’s not profitable?)

The R.L.’s had us for the night… and graciously Grandma J cooked us yet another elaborate breakfast. We sort of took things easy that morning. And that was OK because it rained all morning/afternoon anyway. In fact, it rained so hard I almost cried behind the wheel (once we did make a move back towards Atlanta) because I was oh so scared navigating the 22 nonsensical lanes of traffic heading South on 1-85. But then when the rain cleared, I still wanted to cry because I kind of missed the South for the epic thunderstorms. I just don’t get that kind of shower in Washington, DC.

Sunday, for a late lunch, we met with E.L.P at Ormsby's. The food was delicious folks, I highly recommend this establishment for those of you in the Atlanta area. After that, Boyfriend and I headed to Turner Field because duh. S.M.S., the darling girlfriend of my brother, got us THE BEST seats. So that was awesome. But not so awesome was the Braves being shutout… by the Miami Marlins… in nine painful innings.  And worse, they gave up – none of my favorites even played. Oh well. The seats were excellent and we dodged (more) rain. Despite Clemson’s win, we were welcomed back in Brother’s apartment… where we did some serious rehashing of Saturday’s events. C.D.H. was slightly comforted by Liverpool’s win over Manchester United but otherwise wasn’t handling the loss so well.   

The final day was a touristy one. We started the day by watching the rain. Because, that’s right, it was raining again… for the third day in a row. Raining hard. My brother lives in a loft with gigantic – I’m estimating 16' x 12' – windows, so I opened them right up and relished in the rain. Then we walked to brunch at Java Jive. That was tasty (and quite filling). And from there, we went to Starbucks. That was an unlikely move considering this was Boyfriend’s first trip to Atlanta… but my brother’s Starbucks is one of 500 of 18000 Starbuck’s with a Clover machine. Have you experienced this yourself? Heaven. In a cup. This joy had a strong and oily depth my coffee-sensitive taste buds had never been exposed to. I'm not going to lie – watching the barista construct your made-to-order cup is half the fun.

Then we traveled up the street for some pretend shopping at Paris on Ponce, a fancy oddities store. Basically, we all wanted everything. And could afford nothing. By this point, the rain has subsided enough for us to take a stroll on the Atlanta Beltline. C.D.H. has been dying to reveal this masterpiece to me for some time now. In a city that demands a car and has 65 streets with Peachtree in the name – not at all confusing, this revitalization efforts exists to connect all of Atlanta's neighborhoods. I was surprised by the number of people out, even on this not so nice day, as we moved up and down the the Eastside Trail. The many bizarre art exhibits lining the pathway provide ample conversation starters. And smells radiating from restaurants backing up to the trail give a happening vibe.

Not having walked enough, we wandered around Piedmont Park’s niceness. That was lovely… and provided us a stopping point for a picture of the Altanta skyline. The last stop was Little Five Points for some window shopping of the Bohemian variety. We paused for smoothies at Arden’s Garden where I proceed to slurp my spinach intake for the year. The four of us made one last pit stop at Publix for subs in route to the airport. So yummy!

It was whirlwind. And there was definitely a lot I missed. But... here's to hoping the Braves make a statement in the playoffs... and I just can't resist making my way down South again real soon.

Remembering December, Week 5

December 29 -

• I woke up in my fancy hotel room at Mission Inn Resort, packed my things, and met my uncle at reception, for the next leg of this trip to Orlando. 
• I had not see my uncle and his roommate, a life-long family friend, in an embarrassingly long time. We spent the day chatting over multiple games of Skip-Bo. I won each and every game. That must have hurt the egos of these regular players. 

• I was dropped off at the airport for my late-night flight to my home-sweet-home. Lets refresh: hate is not a strong enough word to convey my sentiment on flying. There were flight delays leaving Orlando, the flight from hell, and icy roads on my drive from Baltimore to D.C., together setting me back quite a few hours. I am obligated to describe the flight I described as being from hell. Have you ever been on a flight were THE ENTIRE flight was too bumpy and twisty, for lack of a better adjective, for the flight attendants to move about the cabin? I have. 

December 30 -

• I had a "me party" all morning. Nothing like quality bonding time with yourself. 
• I met A.S.S. and her twin for beer and Bloody Marys, followed by a showing of Les Miserables at the fancy movie theater. Recliner seats, yes please!

• I stayed up WAY too late watching the Washington Redskins/Dallas Cowboys Sunday night game. The Redskins pulled off a win, in glorious fashion. I was not the only exhausted employee on Monday morning. (The Kansas City Chiefs are my one and only true love, no worries Kansas readers. Living in the heart of Redskins territory, I sort of caught the fever. You too would have trouble avoiding the contagious energy. And lets be honest, who like the Cowboys?) 

December 31 -

• My favorite person arrived.
• I worked a shorter-than-normal day from home.
• My brother, C.D.H, and his girlfriend, S.M.S, met J.P.B. and me for afternoon coffee (for the girls) and beer (for the boys) at Northside Social. I am not sure there was a moment to breathe during the endless chatter. 

• After C.D.H. and S.M.S. headed back to Northern Virginia for their wild New Years Eve, J.P.B. and I continued on with ours. The evening began with homemade Mexican dinner at A.S.S.'s place. I did not have to cook. I did not have to clean-up. And the food was delicious. 
• Then at promptly 7:00 PM, minutes before the kick-off of the Clemson Tigers/LSU Tigers, we headed to LA Bar and Grill for the townie experience. There were arcade games, drink specials, darts, and football. Oh... and heavenly fried pickles. (Recapping this evening now, here on January 19, I am questioning my priorities; I have not been back for another basket.)  

• We ended the evening like champions, two minutes into 2013. 

Say What?

On Tuesday, I returned from a long weekend trip to Michigan. My grandparents are old… and aging. Tomorrow, Grandpa will be 88. And come the 23rd of September, Grandma will celebrate her 89th year! To give you an idea of what I was up against, I thought I would share a few Grandma-statistics from the early hours of my visit. 

• 10 minutes in she announced a recent death*
• 15 minutes in she told me I was thin**
• 60 minutes in she questioned my relationship with a friend who happens to be a boy***
• 89 minutes in she asked how my wedding planning was coming****
• 132 minutes in she proclaimed I had 23 months until I should be married*****
• 238 minutes in she started a sentence with “Let me tell you which friends of yours I find strange…”******
• 275 minutes in she requested I clarify my “recent” stance on religion.*******
• 300 minutes the berating stopped for the remained of the visit.********

And we all lived happily ever after. The end.*********

*Old people thing?

**This is no compliment. Apparently my weight fluctuates with her mood. Last time, at the exact same weight, I was fat.

***Grandma is convinced J.W.M. is my Prince Charming. The way he selflessly swooped in, putting his Peace Corps efforts on hold, to fly this Princess to the homeland has forever earned him heroic praise. I do my best to beat J.W.M. down in the eyes of my at times delusional Grandma. First off, he is Jewish. And she has photographic evidence. Secondly, he is tatted up with the most meaningless tattoos.

****Particularly fascinating since I am not even entertaining the prospect of a boy in my life right now... or ever.

*****Here is too hoping, Grandma!

******Sorry friends I happen to like a whole bunch, you are all entirely flawed.

*******During which conversation, she interrupted to informed me she used to be proud of me. I must have done something right at one point.

********False.

*********I love my grandma dearly, possibly more so than you adore yours, simply because I am a competitive person. And I feel superior when my love for someone exceeds your love for that equal.

Writing 2011

I cannot document the start of 2012--a trip to New Orleans, Louisiana--without 'officially' closing out 2011. There is something idealistic about turning the calendar, whether to a new month or year. And while I can appreciate a fresh start, it has never been necessary--who cares if it is Thursday or Monday (unless it is football Saturday!), the 15th or the 2nd of November or January, the year 2012 or 2011. Entering 2012, however, felt entirely different. And that is probably because when I reflect on 2011 it feels as if nothing happened. That is not completely accurate, but the majority of what occurred was internal--establishing routine, personal growth, regaining some sense of control--or logistical--phone calls, job applications, etc. To be cliche, I have resolutions for the upcoming year. The 'plan' might derail again... and that will be okay; I have faith in my ability to reboot. (I have said this before. I have not believed it before.) I am taking steps, this year, into the great unknown, unsure where I will end up. That is part of the excitement of living though, right?

The past year is a blur of places visited. A first and second trip to New York, New York. Two trips to Detroit, Michigan. Four trips to Raleigh, North Carolina. An uncountable number of treks to Athens, Georgia and back. Divided time between Beaufort, Charleston, Columbia, Greenville, and Pendleton while working in Clemson, South Carolina. South Dakota crossed off my '50 states before 50 years' timetable. Took advantage of the Taylorsville, Davis, and San Francisco, California offerings. Had a weeklong adventure with Grandma in Arizona. Two weeks in the Boston, Massachusetts area. More than one visit to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Weekend trips in Annapolis and Baltimore, Maryland. Day-trips to Columbus, Maryland; Alexandria, Virginia; Georgetown, Washington, D.C.; and Harper's Ferry, West Virginia. A reunion in Orlando, Florida. Thanksgiving in Atlanta, Georgia. There was probably a bit too much time spent in Northern Virginia.

In the haze of travel... were the intentional friendships in route. In The Hire Up--the 2011 H family Christmas letter--Dad described me as a "voracious writer and dedicated pen pal, tweeter, texter, and blogger who manages to stay in touch with friends scattered around the world." And "1$ Megabus and cross country trips in tents demonstrate [my] ability to [enjoy time with and] see the world on a minimalist budget." In this light--people and places--I recall a better year than otherwise remembered.

Still though, with open arms, I welcomed 2012. And again, right steps or wrong, I will progress in some direction this year. 

Atlanta, Georgia

If my records are right, Thanksgiving was over a month ago... and our family trip to Atlanta, Georgia has gone undocumented. I could go on, unproductively, with a list of excuses, or simply unfold my notes into a readable account of the holiday vacation.

I arrived at Reagan National Airport on Monday, November 21, 2011, revived from a weekend in Orlando, Florida, and on Tuesday, our family--minus the one we were on our way to visit--was on-the-road North to Baltimore Washington International Airport for our in-the-air flight South. The first two days of the trip, I was off--I chalked that up to a bout of dizziness and ongoing sleep deprivation. The revival had the effect of a sugar high. I was back on my feet with a drink, food binge, and some rest. The remainder of the trip followed suit--excess eating and drinking--minus the whole sleep part.

We stayed with our dear family friends, a few houses down from our old Alpharetta home. As with any trip to an previous hometown, I marveled in the changes; the rapidly growing suburb of Altanta, nestled in north Fulton County, had some unrecognizable alterations. On Wednesday--our family day, we ventured to C.D.H.'s, I mean S.M.S's place to visit with our guy and his girl. The time was chatty... as if we had not been together in years. We checked-out their place, and even got a brief walking tour of the surrounding area. He bypassed the option to stock up on groceries at Whole Foods, instead dragging the family to the "Murder Kroger." At least he has fine taste in restaurants, for dinner he took us (on Pop's bill) to Flip, a fancy burger boutique, owned by some Top Chef finalist. I was impressed by the number of vegetarian options! The burgers were fabulous, though the real show winners were the accompanying liquid nitrogen milkshakes. Or did the Krispy Kreme donuts we picked up for dessert, erase all memories of Flip? (Re: Eating and drinking in excess!)

The rest of Atlanta was filled with the obvious holiday occasion, more togetherness, a Mexican lunch, good coffee, Black Friday shopping (It is these sort of occasions I am thankful I do not have actual sisters.), a trip to the nail salon (Retract last statement. This experience is far superior with 'sisters.'), chopping down trees, and S.K.H.’s 29th birthday celebration. 

We found a few minutes to spare before our flight home to catch part of the Michigan/Ohio State game, unfortunately we were mid-air for majority... though when we landed, The Big Blue had prevailed. 'Hail to the Victors!' 

(The delayed account allows me to express my disappointment in another ill-planned flight time. Long before kick-offs--and locations, in this case--were announcements, I was forced to purchase roundtrip airfare. I be mid-air during the--Michigan/Virgina Tech--Sugar Bowl... and leaving New Orleans, home of the Sugar Bowl. This is bad. Worse: It is wreaking havoc on my attempt to make Orange Bowl plans.)

We were home in time for the Clemson/University of South Carolina game, however, an unfortunate incident with the sister of a friend prevented me from catching the game--the one condition I had for driving to Alexandria to hang out. The emotions have subsided, and since Clemson wound up losing to their in-state rivals, I was better off without game coverage. (I am done believing, forever a fan.) And without the distraction of football, I was able to focus and catch-up with the fellow Peace Corps volunteers.

Great-Uncle J

Before the sun revealed itself on Thursday morning, I was wide awake... on the streets of my neighborhood running. In complete darkness I was coated in a soft rainfall--it was the peace I needed to prepare my heavy heart for a sorrowful weekend ahead. Following a shower, quick breakfast, and a stop by the kennel (to drop Louis off for his first stay. Sigh.) Mom, Dad, and I were Michigan bound.

Last Thursday, October 21, my Great-Uncle J passed away. The past three months, proceeding multiple-bypass surgery, have been extremely difficult for him... and much of the extended family too. After a lifetime full of living and loving, his body was tired. And somehow we, following our own trails of grief, will have to accept his passing. For now, I am thankful to have known him for these 24 years. I am grateful he was given 90 precious years of his own.

Even if you can look back on a lifetime brimming with memories, losing someone is never, ever easy. Here I am, sipping chai tea--the time is nearing 8 pm on a Sunday evening, short on words to express myself. To say this weekend was tough sounds redundant and weak. My relatives are aging, suffice it to say their health is beyond my control. These people are the foundation of me--I want protect them from the elements, keep them close to me.

There are too many wonderful pieces of Great-Uncle J's history to share. I will remember him as a storyteller--born in Czechoslovakia and raised on the Mississippi River--with some of the greatest tales to tell. He was a kindhearted soul who adored both his grandsons. A wise man who valued education, spending much of his career as a school principal.

I'm torn up inside accepting he's gone, though more so when I think of my Great-Aunt B--the wife, of 56 years, he left behind. Throughout the past six years of my letter correspondence with Great-Aunt B, I have learned what a dignified woman she is. She represents all that is good, living a life of grace and compassion. In all of our time together, she has never disclosed an unkind word. Likewise to Great-Uncle B, she dotes on her grandsons, maintaining a central focus on family. For as far back as my memories date, she has always been glad to see me or happy to receive a letter from me; she has taken a genuine interest in my life. And her most redeeming quality, is her unfailingly cheerfulness... so to see her this weekend, broken and sad was awful. I have never experienced the sound of sadness.

The phone just rang, it was Great-Aunt B calling--wanting to thank each of us, individually, for attending the funeral this weekend. And tomorrow, she's going to dive right back into the pool and continue her swimming routine. This is the type of woman she is, uncomplaining--able to endure and overcome.

My cousin A started his personal reflection with a Mark Twain quote the audience agreed was an accurate depiction of a life we will forever remember and honor. I will leave you with these words, "One can be a hero to other folk, and in a sort of vague way understand it, or at least believe it, but that a person can really be a hero to a near and familiar friend is a thing which no hero has ever yet been able to realize, I am sure."

(This is a non-traditional post... but tonight... I needed this.)

Great-Aunt D

Eager. Comfortable. Strong. Courageous. Joyful. Displaying Dignity. Thankful. Confident. Loving. Simple. Gracious. A Passionate Fan. 

She rocked her menu as a visor--remembering each prop, beyond eighty, is not easy--to shield the sun at a recent outing to Comerica Park. Her knowledge of statistics, including height and weight, on every player blew me away. 

An enthusiastic Great-Aunt D had me laughing throughout the game, with exclamations like, "A hotdog and a beer, that's all I need!" Later adding, "I'm too excited. All I wanted was to go to the ball-game; I won't be able to sleep tonight."

The afternoon spent at the ballpark, in the presence of a rabid Detroit Tiger's fan, was the highlight of the recent Michigan trip.

Tor-tour

On a three-hour car tour of Detroit, my grandfather blazed through at least two red lights and a couple of stop signs; I am confident these were not the only traffic violations committed August 29, 2011. I am unsure if I was more in fear for my life or carsick.

Tales behind the wheel with a 10 days from 87 year old grandfather—fascinating.

Equally as fascinating:

We usually avoid the city—preferring instead to sit and stare at each other in the living room—because Detroit is so sad. It’s awful. Growing up, I have spent enough time in Michigan to consider the state a second home; we (or part of the family) lived there for a short stint in between Georgia and Virginia after all. I won’t fantasize and pretend I knew Detroit in its heyday, yet I have vivid memories of a happily hustling, bustling city.

The city today is comparable to a wasteland. Empty lots are scattered throughout the area, rough roads with likely rougher sections are the new norm, burned buildings—so many burned building(!!!)—everywhere, signs pleading the public to “save the _______,” absolutely zero traffic anywhere—during lunch hour, in the heart of this city. And while it’s depressing for me to visit Detroit, unless I go straight to Comerica Park, Ford Field, or Joe Lewis Arena and back out at game’s end, I can’t fathom how heartbreaking these trips must be for my grandparents. They grew up, were educated, and got married in these parts. For them, it’s a city of dead memories. If the building wasn’t burnt down, it was renamed. Property is abandoned. Crime loiters around typical safe havens—playgrounds, public parks, golf courses. When recounting the experience to Uncle B later this same day, he questioned the driving skills of grandfather. Did he remember to stay at least two car lengths behind each car at a stop light/sign… to provide an easy escape? He was not joking. Our driver, avoiding stopping altogether.

Michigan is the only state experiencing population decline, Detroit harbors half the people it once did. The entire H side of the family resides in various suburbs of The Mitten. These natives are stoic during conversations about the state of city, the only place they know. They do not believe Detroit has the resiliency to bounce back.

amAZing

The state of Arizona and I get along quite well. I have a travel policy I strictly abide by: no visiting the same place twice. Rules have to be broken when family members dwell in certain places too long; my Grams is a long-term resident of Arizona. When your Grams is a trooper like mine, breaking travel policy is fun.

At 74 she summits mountains, she embraces my eating quirks--only taking me out to eat if the restaurant serves local food, she loves her cards as much as I do, she shares my enjoyment for ice cream, she keeps her visitors busy, she flatters me by joining me for documentary viewings about going vegan (Forks over Knives--Go see it RIGHT now!), she soaks up each minute of the day--starting the morning with some form of exercise, she is well traveled and exceptionally informed, she appreciates the sun but respects it power, she is a people person.

She is wise but not preachy--speaking with heart from her own experience.

A Different Generation

The scenario on a recent journey to Michigan:

I was sitting in my grandparents living room with my immediate family gathered, sheltered from the subarctic temperatures outdoors. My Aunt B and Uncle F has just spent the afternoon visiting with us. When Aunt B made it safely home she called to say she had a letter from Ghana waiting for her. Not so exciting considering we were able to catch up face-to-face minutes before. Regardless, a handwritten letter can (in my world) brighten anyones day--after all I wrote it knowing I was coming home. Per usual I am getting lost in my thoughts.

We left off with Aunt B's first phone call which took place with Pops. She called again two minutes later, this time talking to the youngest H. The room was curious, waiting, anticipating, why might she be calling again? To tell us it was her calling in the first place. Yes, Aunt B the called ID told us, the first and the second time.
Growing up my neighbors had a rotary dial phone, and now there is hardly even a use for landlines. Everyone has a cell phone that uses caller identification, mine even goes so far to include a picture of the caller. Aunt B continues to send me beautifully constructed hand written letters while my grandmother still writes to me on the typewriter she got when she was 12, by my calculation that's 74 years ago. It's so fun to receive real mail. I genuinely appreciate the patience and time it takes to sit down and actually write a letter. In today's hectic world where anyone can zip me an email in record time I'd rather wait. This rapidly changing 'age of technology' is even hard for me to keep up with.

Goodbye Georgia

In order to say goodbye to C.D. I made the ten and a half hour drive down to potential graduate school number five, University of Georgia.  The long weekend was wonderful... football, hiking, friends, late nights, movies, and irregular eating schedules.  Oh to be in college, without the work!  Bliss.  

As always it was incredibly good to see him and be back at one of the best colleges around.  Even with zero dollars in his bank account I am planning to expect him in Lesotho around June 2010.  Thank you World Cup for playing in South Africa in 2010.  Thank you Peace Corp for placing me in Lesotho.  Much appreciated.  

The greatest part about C.D. is there is no plan or order for anything... and while his friends may think I have my life together, in my opinion the day-to-day lifestyle C.D. flows with seems a lot more appealing.  

I miss you already and I have not even left.  This is bad.  See you in Lesotho!

Life in the desert

I have been to Arizona many times to visit Grams, and as always, I had a blast. I thought it was going to be a relaxing vacation of sitting by the pool, finishing my books, and playing LOTS of cards. Oh I was terribly mistaken.

I arrived in Arizona after a busy week of work extremely jet-lagged, immediately I was off to the pool. The next day after an 8AM wake up call (which happened to be the latest I would get to sleep in while in AZ!!!!) I was in the car with grams headed up to Red Rock Country (Sedona)! On the way up to Sedona we stopped in Jerome (the vertical city). It was so disappointing and run down we did not even bother to stay for lunch. I am not sure grams agreed but I think the stop was worth the view of the Verde Valley. When we made it to Sedona we had time to hike West Fork and caught an amazing sunset!

The next day we were up early and I enjoyed an off road jeep adventure. It was so much fun! My tour guide happened to be a Biology major back in his day so he taught me all about the plants of the southwest, fascinating! I met some awesome follks from Washington State who offered to let me come a visit. Free lodging? I will be there in two years, no doubt! After the tour we hiked the Bell Rock Path. 110 Degrees, 2 hours of fast paced hiking, 20 ounces of water. Bad planning.

Friday and Saturday I did a little exploring of Fountain Hills on my own while Grams worked. Prior to work both days (because being in AZ means rising early) we managed to do about 6 miles of hiking (Lost Dog Trail on Friday; Saturday was less hiking and more running around the 3rd tallest fountain in the world) I got some time to talk on my phone, catch some rays, and read my book. Hooray! Saturday night we went to a fundraiser for the Fountain Hills Museum. Oh small towns, oh total chaos, oh old people! Afterwards we caught her 80 year old friend Jim singing at the hotel in town. It was so funny, and his wife was a real character!

On Sunday Grams took me to her place of work, We-ko-pa. I cringe at admitting it is the nicest golf course I have ever seen because anything that terrible for the environment can not possibly be goregous! I guess when the charge you a million dollars per round per person you should expect nothing else, still... To redeem themselves for killing planet earth they do make some pretty killer food! We also made it to REI where I officially FINISHED(!!!!) all my shopping for the Peace Corps, at least I think I did! I also got to meet her friend Suzanne (over Starbucks) who shares a common interest in ants. And I thought I was the only one! It was not until Sunday that we finally busted out the Skip-bo cards. No worries, I won and proudly claimed all 45 cents of my winnings! Oh I think I failed to mention, Sunday was our day of rest?

Monday we went to Eagle Nest and I hiked what might be my favorite trail of all time! The views of Four Peaks were amazing, the desert landscape was serene, and there was a mine at the end of the trail. There was plenty of time for reflection and pictures. I slowed the pace and really took time to enjoy my surroundings, after all, it was my last day in Fountain Hills for awhile. Sigh. In the late afternoon I caught a nap at the pool and a few more wins in Skip-bo!

Grams, thanks for being a wonderful host. Thanks for making me get out of bed and fill everyday with new adventures. I promise I will recharge my batteries, that is, after my half cross country road trip to Denver. Travel on.

No sympathy here

I just spent the week in Fountain Hills, AZ on my final stop of my Tour of Family adventure. Most of the tour has been filled with questions, wonder, and excitement. On this stop there have been very few questions. She is a world traveler and thinks there is not a better opportunity in the world. Grams sees joining the Peace Corp as my calling in life. To her, it is something I need to do! She is more excited that I am actually taking advantage of the opportunity to travel and become immersed in another culture. This is not to say she is not proud, but she has become very spiritual late in life and again thinks this is what I should be doing.

The Peace Corp is something I have always want to be apart of. I am excited beyond belief (countdown: 2 months 11 days) about the upcoming experience! The adventure is not going to be easy, but I did not get any sympathy from Grams. She asked me what I was going to miss the most, and two of the things I replied with were my cell phone and internet. She kindly smiled (a polite way to tell me thats ridiculous)! It is not even that I need my cell phone, but I do get pleasure from being able to catch up with friends, pass time while I am driving, or notify someone if I am running late. As for the internet I think the instant gratification of email would be nice so far away. Plus, I enjoy reading blogs, hearing about new ways to save the world, and getting sports updates. It's more that I like these luxuries not that I need them. She asked, I answered.

Grams can't understand those two things because she does not have them. She can't ration the idea of someone being able to get ahold of her whenever they want! People have come to expect her when she gets there. You would never know if she was lost or running late. People start calling her at 6:15AM because they know that is the only time they can reach her at home. She is always out and about living life to the fullest. I guess early morning phone calls are the consequence of no cell phone. Not worth it, to me! Do not even get her started on the internet, that's a generation thing. She survives just fine with the librarys internet use for netflix (and that is it). I frankly do not and will not understand it. More power to her?

Michigan

My dads entire family lives in Michigan so when we ventured up there for a long weekend in June there were lots of questions, lots of "goodbyes." He has been pretty much the only one to venture out besides second cousin J who lives in one of my top ten favorite cities (Durham, NC). Props to pops and her! Michigan is quirky to me, the people who live there LOVE it and get sucked in f-o-r-e-v-e-r. Do not get me wrong, I think it is a great state with lots to offer, that is, if you are not looking for a job. We weren't there long but we made use of the time we had!
I got to spend quality time with g'ma and g'pa, have a graduation/going away party in my honor, and meet the new baby cousin. We helped the old folks set up a "flat face" tv. Oh materials! C.D. cleaned (those two words have probably never been used back-to-back), trimmed trees, pulled weeds, and collected treasures from the basement.  

I am really blessed to have two 80+ year old grandparents and I love them dearly, but I wish they knew how much it freaks me out when they tell me they are going to be "gone" when I come back. They are so lucky to be alive and for the most part healthy. I live day-to-day (I wish they, especially g'ma, would do the same). In my ideal world everyday would be a day worth living and remembering... but I imagine the older you get the harder it is. You set goals like seeing your grandchildren graduate, watching them walk down the isle, or enjoying your great-grandchildren. So I sort of understand their train of thought but not really. It still amazes me they live on their own (although we would all be relieved if they would even as much as considered assisted living)! We all have a lot to be thankful for, and this is one blessing I count twice.

I will miss them, along with the rest of the MI gang, dearly. I promise to write as much as possible, even if the mail is slow go. The generosity they have shown me throughout my entire life has not gone unnoticed. The love they have given me is greatly appreciated! Their love for each other and the Lord is admirable! Be careful while I am gone, stay healthy, and remain confident in my decision! This is not good-bye!

"Goodbyes are not forever. Goodbyes are not the end. They simply mean I'll miss you until we meet again!" (Author Unknown)

Tour of Family

On my tour of family, this week in town visiting: Cousin L, Aunt A, and Uncle D!  If you know anything about our family we love to be tourist in our home town (and we have even more fun when guests accompany us).  This weeks the fanny packs were stuffed, cameras were hanging from our necks, and maps were stuffed in our back-pockets.  We were ready to compete with the rest of the D.C. summer vacationers.

As a side note the tourist game started about ten years ago when we decided to venture to the Kansas City Plaza (30 minutes from home) for spring break!  Can you say hotel pools and japanese steak house?  In the past seven years we have had the opportunity to live and play in South Carolina, Georgia, Michigan, and Virginia!  Now that we only stay in each state for an abbreviated amount of time, most would consider us long term visitors anyways.  Needless to say, the game has lost some effect, but we still tackled D.C. with the best of them!  
It was really nice to have company in town (and I look forward to reuniting in Maine)!  L is an abundance of energy.  He managed to amaze a professional babysitter and at this point in my career little amazes me.  We enjoyed playing ping pong, guitar hero, guesstures, and skip-bo.  I even managed some time off from working to catch some rays with the rest of the gang, do some more site seeing, and eat delicious home cooked meals!   One of my favorite memories from the week include Lukas finding an "X" on the home phone after Dad insisted "Q & X" were not on phones.  Dad, welcome to 2009... welcome to texting!  In his defense, I guess those letters used to be left off phones.  I'm taking his word on that.  Disheartening for C.D., but a good laugh for me.  C.D. realized he has the same interest as a 10 year old after repeatedly getting excited to play wii bowling!  Guesstures always provides good laughs, such as, mom acting out welcome (the game had just been turned on and was welcoming her to electronic guesstures) or Aunt A acting out stooges using 4 fingers!  Finally, last night in a game of skip-bo L kept calling people "poop turds" in swedish.  Oh ten year old insults!  Google failed me on the actual spelling of the swedish version, but the phonetics are "ben corven" if you are interested.