#80 Eat gelato in Italy

Oh, did we eat gelato! It began with a late-night snack upon our arrival in Monterosso (the fifth town in the Cinque Terre). The next day, we decided to do the “Cinque Terre/Five Town Challenge”—gelato in every town for me, espresso in every town for Super Husband…in ONE DAY. Bleh.

It had its ups and downs, much like the terrain we were crossing. We were hiking along the coast to get to each town, so sometimes a cold gelato was perfectly refreshing…as long as I ordered the right flavor. Basil and lemon was my favorite combo. The creamier, chocolate or berry-flavored ones were a little heavy for that kind of climate. The heat and humidity was oppressive enough on it’s own without the sick-feeling of too much sugar or milk. In the end, we did it! (Although Super Husband didn’t sleep much that night, thanks to all the caffeine.)

Strangely enough, we weren’t sick of gelato yet (hooray for reasonable portion sizes). So, upon our arrival in Rome, we scouted out a gelato to eat on the Spanish Steps, Roman Holiday style! We had about one a day from then on, although the “last” one turned out to be so bad (strange, considering it was from the “famous” gelateria Giolitti) that we decided to have another, small one, just to end on a happier note. Most unusual and unique flavor? Tartuffo from a shop near Piazza Navona. It’s made with truffles! Quite the delicacy and worth every euro!

My recommendation is to stick with the fruit and herb-flavored gelati. Anything else can be a bit overwhelming, even in small portions. You can’t beat the price there, either—a gelato costs the same as a very inexpensive soft-serve cone here! And it’s WAY tastier! I think there’s a conspiracy—American manufacturers are perfectly capable of making some semblance of gelato (BREYERS, I’M LOOKING AT YOU!), but they think they can slap on a high price sticker, just because we tend to view it as a “foreign delicacy.” For goodness sakes, people, it doesn’t actually get shipped from Italy! There’s no import cost to offset! So quit gouging us for this HEALTHIER and yummier version of ice cream! (They just want to keep us fat and broke. Seriously.)

OK, rant over. I really did live out my “gelato dreams” in Italy. Mmm-mmm!

#48 Stay in a ski chalet (Alps, Vancouver, Whistler, wherever!)

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“Wherever” turned out to be Berner Oberland in the Swiss Alps! I’m glad—it was the highest place on our travel wish list.

I looked up the definition of chalet while in Switzerland, just to be sure where we were staying actually made the cut. Here’s Merriam-Webster’s definition: “a Swiss dwelling with unconcealed structural members and a wide overhang at the front and sides.” Check and check!

While ski chalets without snow aren’t quite as picturesque and romantic, they are still incredibly fun to stay in. Our first was a cute little hotel above the Lauterbrunnen Valley, called Hotel Baeren (the Bear hotel). We were surprised with a free upgrade to a balcony room! Having that balcony really made our chalet experience. We sat there for hours, watching the rain and clouds wash over the mountains and then give way to golden sunshine…and sometimes both at once! The rainfall could almost pass for softly falling snow when the sunlight hit it. And I can’t put into words how much the view of the valley, with its numerous waterfalls and green floor, affected me. I feel as if I really saw Tolkien’s Rivendell, as he saw it when he visited this very valley!

Hiking around Switzerland, the sight of chalets became common, yet never dull, because each had its own unique touches—a blessing written in gold paint under the eaves, red shutters instead of green, or maybe the massive ceremonial cow bells hanging over their door.

The one thing they all seemed to have in common were the geranium-filled window boxes. Even across the valley, at the “retro” Hotel Alpenblick chalet, we found the same cheery, red flowers lining the windows. I even saw one man covering them with hard-plastic tents to guard them against the night winds.

Our second chalet was more like an apartment building or boarding house. Kids coming and going, muddy boots on the mats outside of the room doors, and the scent of fried chicken wafting up from the owner’s kitchen (he claimed fried chicken is a traditional Swiss dinner, but it still smelled too much like McDonalds or KFC to me). It IS actually a residence for Swiss families, with a few guest rooms dotted throughout. So we felt a little out of place.

This time, no upgrade, but we were given the “quiet room” on the top floor in the back. The mismatched furniture has been lovingly cared for since their arrival (probably in the late 60s through the 80s, judging from the floral upholstery and plaid wool curtains). The pink tile and palm-tree print shower curtain looked original too. They may not have had the best interior-design sense, but the owners sure knew how to maintain their property.

Neither chalets were particularly “traditional” experiences, but I stayed in and walked among the ski chalets long enough to get a good feel for them. Now, when I see the replicated style of the “Swiss” bank back in Washington, I have to laugh. It’s not a bad representation, but it lacks the realism of a working, lived-in, built-from-centuries-of-tradition ski chalet. Functional and cozy. Charming and unique. I like them, and I’d love to hole up in one during the winter someday. However, I’m perfectly content with our experience.

#23 Ride an overnight train

Like #48 “Bake a Thanksgiving Turkey,” this 100-list accomplishment is a bit loose. But my perspective has shifted a little since making the list. In this case, cost and horror stories of bedbugs kept me from pursuing an overnight/bunk train for our recent trip to Europe. Plus, it just wasn’t practical for our schedule.

However, I think it DID fit the bill, because we traveled a lot by train, and the longest stretch was during OUR night, thanks to changing time zones. That’s the bit I’d like to report on, and to compare the various trains in our travels.

We arrived in Paris mid-morning, after a 10-hour overnight flight. Our bodies were telling us it was still midnight, but we found ourselves speeding along the French countryside at 150+ mph! This was perhaps one of the most comfortable trains of our trip. The headrests were big and all the seats were facing the same way, like in a coach bus. It was surprisingly cozy and notably quiet. Can’t imagine a sleeper car would be any more comfortable!

Blame jet lag or the high comfort level, but we both slept for a few hours on this leg. It was surreal dozing off in the middle of French farmlands and waking to find ourselves zipping by little German villages, each with a similar church tower at its center. This rapid change in landscape, plus the feeling of refreshment from sleep, makes me believe I can safely check overnight train off the list. And we still had another country to enter!

After Strasbourg, the trains got a little less plush. We entered cars full of businessmen and women and students returning home. Trains were so full, we ended up standing sardine-packed close in a car entryway. It felt more like being on a school bus than anything else.

Jungfraujoch: the train up the Jungfrau in the Swiss Alps

Four countries in one day (if you count our crossing into Canada for our flight), and we were finally in Switzerland! Here we rode some of our favorite trains. The panorama car we took into the heart of the Alps was quiet, clean, and had glorious views of the lakes and foothills. The train from Interlaken into the Lauterbrunnen Valley reminded me of the scenic trains in New Hampshire. Open windows and bench seating felt less like public transit and more like a holiday attraction. We likened the sound of the rails to music, as they had a melodic hum to them, more than the screeching, squealing cacophony you’d associate with trains. Lovely!

As soon as we crossed into Italy, the train atmosphere changed dramatically. We didn’t even switch locomotives, but the conductor, security guards, and stations passing by were self-evidently Italian. (I accidentally made eye contact with one of the border guards striding through the cabin and a weak smile, a sign of friendliness, automatically jumped to my face. I got a glare in return. Oops!) Enter the terracotta roof tiles and climbing vines…and graffiti!

From here, the trains got progressively more crowded, and less maintained, as we journeyed through the Cinque Terre to Rome. There was nothing enchanting about these trains, except for the sweet, tiniest Italian lady who sat across from us when we left La Spezia. We didn’t speak each other’s language, so a smile and “Roma?” had to suffice. And even though we spent the entire journey in silence, we still wished each other “buona sera” as we got off.

Architectural detail: Strasbourg station, Germany

So, I think I can honestly say my illusions of train travel (including the overnight variety) has been both affirmed and destroyed in various cases. Swiss trains were dreamy. French and Italian trains were functional. The one compartment we sat in (albeit briefly) met my expectations of what the Pevensie children in “Narnia” or the “Harry Potter” gang on the Hogwarts Express would’ve experienced. All in all, I’m glad I don’t have to ride one for awhile.

Trains are unique. They are fun. And they are very much capable of becoming tedious. Check.

Land of Aloha

Holy macadamia nuts! We're going to Hawaii next week! We've been waiting for this trip for a long time. Long before New Zealand was planned, we had our tickets booked for our first real vacation with Super Husband's family. It's also my first time visiting the Aloha state!

Last year, when my wonderful in-laws returned from their Kauai trip, they brought us back some fun Hawaiian treats--papaya salad-dressing mix and the best macadamia nuts I've ever tasted! With each indulgence in these island delights, I was reminded of my in-law's generous invitation to spend a week in Kauai with them and all the "Super Siblings!"

That day has finally (almost) arrived! And I feel so grateful to the woman who made it possible. I remember Grandma Lou, who passed away on New Year's Day 2013, as a generous woman with a zest for life and travel well into her "mature age." I cherish the memory of sitting at her table during a visit to Florida, hearing about her mission trips and other travel experiences. (I'll admit, I was pretty sick with a miserable stomach bug on that trip, but it's still one of my favorite "Grandma Lou memories" because it's the most time I got to spend with her this side of Heaven.)

I'm so blessed to be counted among her family now. Her legacy of faith lives on in her children, grandchildren, and someday (Lord willing) her great-grandchildren. We're all pretty sure she'd be thrilled we were doing this in her memory--traveling together and making new memories as a family. She'll be close in thought during our trip.

Because I'm fascinated by words, I looked up the meaning of aloha. Everyone knows it means both a greeting and farewell, but did you know it also means "love"? It's like saying, "May you be surrounded by love" whenever you meet and part. We know Grandma Lou wished us love when she made this adventure possible, too.

#33 Go to “Hobbiton” in New Zealand

The phrase that we often use to sum up our visit to Hobbiton (and New Zealand as a whole) is “well documented.”

I learned a bitter lesson from my first big trip abroad—seeing England from behind a photo lens somewhat cheapened the experience. So I was determined not to let my shutterbug habits get in the way of our New Zealand adventure. And to be honest, neither of us feel that it did! Perhaps it was because we had time to slow down and enjoy what was around us, and still snap a photo or two. Or perhaps it was different because there were two of us, and one would be inspired to “document” while the other simply “was.”

Still, we somehow ended up with nearly 1,000 photos by the end of the trip.

Remember what I said—I don’t feel like I spent a week and a half with my camera to my eye. And in retrospect I’m SO grateful for the photos we have. We tried to be choosey in our subjects and end up with shots that were memory aids and artful (to me, at least). Although we only spent about two hours in the Shire, I felt as though we explored every avenue, doorstep, and garden. And there are pictures to help us relive that idyllic morning! (And to help us in the retelling.)

Picture this: a hazy summer morning, driving through farm country, sheep dozing under thick pine trees, and a golden light on the green fields. I think I let out a little shriek of childlike delight as we turned onto Buckland Road and arrived at the Shire’s Rest cafe. Since it IS a working sheep farm, the staff had been up for hours, even though it was early morning. There was carpentry being done, coffee being brewed, and buses being rolled out for the transportation of several hundred visitors that would arrive that day.

And we were the first! I’m so grateful for that peaceful time, before the crowds began arriving in their tour buses. We sat on smooth benches at large, carved tables—suddenly feeling much smaller...maybe even hobbit-sized? We watched sheep wander over the hills and listened to the chatter of the workers. It made it feel less like a tourist trap and more like a place of livelihood, family history, and enthusiasm for a way of life.

When the waves of people started to fill up the dusty parking lot, I began to worry. Perhaps this wouldn’t be the kind of quiet experience I hoped for. I’d dreamed of visiting this inviting, bucolic setting since my Dad first read us The Hobbit (maybe not Matamata, New Zealand by name, but that’s where it happened to turn up in reality). Would it be ruined by people who didn’t know the significance (or care)? Was it a mere point of interest on their maps? (Don’t even start on how my being there was just as much “part of the problem”—every town, even fantastical ones, have their tourists!) I tried to ignore the jostling and noise as people scrambled to redeem their tickets. “Happy hobbits. Think happy hobbits.”

Our group was the first to depart. We climbed onto a vintage-looking bus named Gandalf (the shiny, “Hobbiton Movie Tours” buses were being reserved for the larger groups later in the day) and rumbled down the road, deeper into the rolling hills. My first glimpse of Hobbiton included Green Dragon, sitting at the base of a little ridge that hid the rest of Hobbiton from view. It was in that moment where I almost forgot I was bouncing along in an old bus. We could’ve been riding a horse drawn cart, coming to visit the relatives on Bagshot Row! ;-)

Since the set is surrounded by hills, your first full view of the hobbit holes comes as you walk through the very stone-wall-lined lane Gandalf rode through at the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring. The perk of going this early was instantly clear—Hobbiton was empty! It took no stretch of the imagination to think a hobbit could amble out of his front door any minute, yawn and stretch, and then greet his neighbor before sitting down to a nice “second breakfast.” There was smoke coming out of some of the houses, butterflies flitting around the flowerbeds, and all sorts of little tools and furniture—lying about as if they were used daily! I was immediately enchanted.

For the sake of the films, the hobbit holes aren’t all built in the same scale. Some made us feel like giants (or elves, as I prefer), while others were perfectly sized for human visitors. Each colorful, round door was as delightful as the next, yet completely unique! We even got to enter one and peek out as if welcoming guests to tea. There was a shovel, abandoned in a little vegetable garden—mid dig—as if its hobbit owner was called away for another meal, or wandered off for a nap under one of the hedgerows. There was a shirt on the wash line above Bag End, which I could swear looked like one of Frodo’s. The tiniest of details—too small for even the movie camera’s probing eye—were all there. Call it suspended disbelief, if you want, but Hobbiton truly looked (and felt) lived in!

I envy the caretaker who gets to prop open the door of Bag End every morning. If it were me, it’d be tempted to wish Bilbo a “good morning” as I was doing it, and then pause for a sit-down on the bench out front! :-) Bag End is truly prime real estate, with the best view in all the Shire. From the gate (with it’s “No admittance except on party business” sign still in place), we could look over the hobbit holes, winding pathways, the party tree, and the Green Dragon across the lake. The sounds of bull frogs croaking in the pond, and the faint murmur of voices as the next tour group arrived, met our ears. Suddenly, I found myself not blaming Lobelia Sackville-Baggins for wanting to live in Bag Eng so badly! (If you’re not acquainted with the books, or the films, I apologize for all my little references...but I admire you for making it this far in my post! Cheers!)

It was there on the hill leading down from Bag End that we enjoyed a little chat with our guide, who was very hobbit-like herself (and proud of it, of course!). She, and all the guides, seemed genuinely excited about the movie set being preserved, not just the farm owners who, I’m sure, have heavy pockets thanks to us. ;-) How weird it must be for them to have people come across oceans and continents to visit their little patch of earth. Thanks to the imaginations of many, it’s become someplace special—a bit of dream world become reality.

For about an hour, it was like we had free rein over Hobbiton. We roamed down little alleyways, alone and feeling as if we’d been caught up in a game of pretend. I’ll admit to knocking on a door to see if Samwise Gamgee was available for a chat and admiring the biscuits laid out for afternoon tea on another hobbit’s porch. Super Husband and I even kicked off our sandals to walk barefoot (in true hobbit fashion) on the green lawn under the party tree. Smiles and laughter were contagious and I’m quite sure I was giddy from the experience for days after...I still feel it!

Our final stop was the Green Dragon itself, with its interior recreated to match the soundstage used in the films. Each of us was served a chilled mug of cider and Super Husband bought us a little lunch as well. (Did you know they take credit cards at the Green Dragon?! Shocking!) Folk music drifted through the roughly hewn beams overhead and a cheery fire crackled in the hearth. We sat by a window to enjoy our meal of steak-and-ale pie and a ploughman’s sandwich. Outside in the courtyard, there were bright pavilions set up, with colored lanterns hanging from poles and in trees. Now THAT would be a fine location for a mighty party! Anyone need a wedding venue? I’d fly down to attend!

All too soon, our time was up. We walked along the water, where the mirror-image of Bagshot Row rippled on its surface. Hobbiton was filling up with people then, and it helped me feel less sad about leaving. I wanted to remember it the way it had been that morning—quiet, peaceful, and seemingly untouched by the modern world. One could imagine there were hobbits hiding there, waiting for the crowds to disperse so they could come out and feast together under moonlight. :-) It’s safe to say my imagination was reawakened that day. I hadn’t noticed it had fallen asleep!

Now I look at Hobbiton—photos others have taken or even the films themselves—and find that it’s more real to me now than simply a world of imagination...more so, I think, than all the other locations and film studios we saw. Because there, a piece of Middle Earth still lives.

The farm will probably change and maybe shut down altogether someday. Much of the beauty of New Zealand seems unstable like that—the active volcanoes, the brush fires that convert woodlands to plains, the earthquakes that flatten hills and split the earth. Thanks to the rough swells of the Pacific, even marvels like Cathedral Cove (left) will one day crumble into the sea. A melancholy thought, as it was one of our favorite places. But I think such thoughts lent me a deeper appreciation for New Zealand’s beauty, knowing that one day these places (like all things) will come to an end.

So we reveled in it! We savored every bit of the landscape, the local culture, and the climate as we could. Of course there’s still so much to see. Locals would argue that we haven’t really scratched the surface, and I’ll be the first to agree with them! Of course I’d love to come back. Of course there are things we could’ve traded for other experiences. But truly, I can’t imagine our trip going any differently. It was a perfect blend, like Tolkien described Rivendell: “Elrond’s house was perfect, whether you liked food or sleep or story-telling or singing (or reading), or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all. Merely to be there was a cure for weariness.”

And so New Zealand seemed to us. Upon our first day home, back at work right away, Super Husband commented on how going to a meeting (first thing) wasn’t so bad, because his mind was fresh and rested. We both found ourselves returning to our work tasks and home responsibilities with ease, and perhaps even renewed vigor. I know it may not last long, but it’s a testimony to the type of trip we had—one where we saw much, did much, and became much. We became exhilarated, rested, curious, excited, patient, awestruck, relaxed, lighthearted, contemplative, adventurous, more in love, and reliant upon each other. Isn’t that what travel is supposed to do? Strengthen our eyes to see more clearly, embolden our hearts to be a little less fearful, and remind our souls Who’s responsible for such beauty and variety in the world?

I’m truly grateful to the gift of this “unexpected journey.” It’s not one I’ll quickly forget.

Wishes for Gramma

Two weeks ago, we celebrated my grandma's 87th birthday. For some reason, this age really struck me--partly because it means she's a lot closer to 90 than I imagine. To me, she's still my spry "Gramma" who played Twister with us when we were in jr. high and splashed in the pool with us when we visited family in Florida. I still deal with a measure of disbelief when my Mom talks about Gramma having a dizzy day or not being able to walk as long as she used to. When I see her, she's still as sharp and wonderful as ever. I just have to remind myself that she's aged a year (or half a year) since I last saw her. With that comes changes.

That's why I'm forever grateful for the way we celebrated her 82nd birthday. It was the kind of experience that ingrained itself in my mind, so I always imagine Gramma like she was that summer. (How can that be five years ago already?) To some, it might be the strangest way to celebrate a grandmother. But not to us.

We went to Disney World! My sister had just graduated college and I was going into my junior year. When the job search proved futile for both of us, we decided to do something wild and different. Rather than wallow over our joblessness and be bored, we'd plan a memorable vacation. What's the dream vacation spot? Disney World, of course! (I've never been to Disneyland...except in utero when my Mom and Dad visited California...so I refuse to debate this. And of course, there are thousands dream vacations out there. But, for the sake of this blog post, please agree with me on this one.)

When we told Mom, she mentioned that my aunt, and maybe even Gramma, would love to go too! Our Aunty D is a high-functioning, sweet, and thoughtful lady who happens to have down syndrome. She and Gramma live together, which is a blessing on many levels--Grandpa has been gone a long time (it's a strange thing to miss someone without ever really having met them), so Gramma and Aunty D take good care of each other. And, like me, Aunty D loves Disney! We both enjoy the movies (classic and new) and all the music associated with them. She hadn't been to Disney in two decades (count 'em, 20 years!) and had mentioned she'd like to go again sometime.

Well, that "sometime" was now! My sister and I were thrilled to tell them, and we couldn't believe it when Gramma's response to the invitation was an unhesitating yes! We expected her to be nervous about the long days in the sun and not interested in all the rides at Disney World. But her enthusiasm for our vacation made us kick into high-gear planning mode! We looked for comfortable hotels with them in mind and rented a wheelchair so Gramma could be off her feet while we toured the parks. It was going to be a "girls getaway," and it happened to fall on Gramma's 82nd birthday!

Before we left, I wasn't sure how other guests and park cast members would react to two young adults vacationing with their grandmother and disabled aunt. Would they shake their heads at us? We're we crazy to even attempt it? Knowing (and loving) my aunt and grandma, I knew we'd enjoy the time together, but I was afraid of others making it difficult or emotionally hard for us. When I expressed these concerns to Dad, he said we could be a testimony to the blessing of family. He said we could be an example of respecting our elders and enjoying friendship with them, regardless of age or abilities. So we moved forward with faith and prayed that God would use this time to bring the four of us closer together.

And He did! We had the best time! Not only was the slower pace more relaxing, we got to really enjoy the themes and storytelling of the parks. The wheelchair worked out great and we were surprised at how kind and helpful the cast members were! Sometimes we'd be waiting patiently in line, not worrying about our time table or the crowds, and they'd bring us to the front of the line through a special entrance! Totally unexpected and really special if you think about it. Better yet, people in line didn't seem to get mad at us or judge us for "abusing the system" (Gramma's wheelchair was certainly not about getting in the fast lane!). And it gave us plenty of time to see it all.

Some of my favorite moments were the shows we watched together, sometimes singing or clapping along. All four of us appreciate good music and it wasn't a surprise that we enjoyed this aspect of the parks. Some other favorite moments were sitting with Gramma in the shade, waiting while my sister and Aunty D went on some of the fast-paced rides together. We'd talk and, as always, I loved asking her questions about her life. It was treasured time. (Note: Gramma DID go on quite a few "less-tranquil rides," including Pirates of the Caribbean and the backwards-dropping Viking boat tour. She's a champ!)

I was also delighted by the way Gramma's humor bubbled to the surface at "the happiest place on earth." One of my favorite quotes from the trip was whenever one of us said, "Where are we going?" Gramma would throw up her hands and reply dramatically, "We're goin' CRAZY!" It made us smileevery time. Believe me, you ask that question a lot at Disney World! And it always lifted any weight from my shoulders to hear Gramma laugh and make light of every moment. :) We were going crazy--crazy with excitement and fun!

On August 10th, we went to EPCOT. I requested a birthday button for Gramma and was amazed at how well the colors matched her shirt! She was a sport to wear it, and it turned out to bring her some magical birthday surprises.

We'd planned a special birthday lunch for Gramma at the Rose and Crown restaurant. It was a quiet affair, in which we gave her cards and sang. There were no candles (the waiter seemed oblivious to our hints before dessert that we were celebrating), so we used the light-up Tinkerbell toy on Aunty D's drinking straw so she could make a wish. :) We're nothing if not creative!

My Gramma is also wonderfully patriotic. So we were excited to visit the American Adventure pavilion and see the show. It turned out WAY better than we could've hoped for! First, we sat and listened to an amazing a capella choir. The songs were so moving, I'm sure I saw tears in Aunty D's eyes as she sang along under her breath. As if that wasn't enough, we met the sweetest cast member on the elevator ride up to the theater. He was an older gentleman who clearly loved his job and did it well. He noticed Gramma's button and wished her a happy birthday--complimenting her on how young she looked, and I'm pretty sure he was the only one to ask, "How young are you?" :) We were led to a great seat in the theater, and when this same gentleman was introducing the show, he took a moment to congratulate Gramma on her birthday and asked her to "Give us a wave, Aileen!" while the whole crowd clapped for her. I was nearly in tears over this! It was like he knew this would be one of Gramma's favorite attractions at the park and he wanted to make it extra special.

After the show, he asked us to follow him. "We have some more celebrating to do!" He led us next door to the little restaurant attached to the pavilion. He spoke with a cast member behind the counter and returned with a little apple pie for Gramma. As he placed it before her, he called out, "Three cheers for Aileen on her 82nd birthday today! Hip, hip!" "HOORAY!" "Hip hip!" HOORAY!" "Hip hip!" "HOORAY!" everyone in the restaurant cheered.

Photo credit: http://www.thedisneyproject.com/2012/06/interview-with-lonnie-hicks.htm

I found out later that this wonderful gentleman's name is Lonnie. (I was too "in the moment" to make note of his name tag then.) I so wish I could go back and thank him again for how he blessed us on that day. I know it's all part of the "Disney magic" and cast members do this sort of thing all the time. But for us, it was an extra special memory.

We thanked him and sat down to enjoy the treat. (Because, being the wonderful woman she is, Gramma shared her little pie with all of us.) Aunty D wanted to buy a soda to go along with it, and as we stood in line, she told me through tears how this whole thing reminded her of Grandpa (who served in the Navy and was a proud American) and how she can't wait for all of them to be home in Heaven together again someday.

Wow. It chokes me up just remembering it. In that comment, through Aunty D, it was like Grandpa was with us too. This was the perfect way to celebrate Gramma's birthday that year. She was healthy and strong enough to endure the heat (and some pretty crazy wheelchair rides from her granddaughters...Weeeee!), and we made countless memories that will last us a lifetime. When I mentioned it to my sister again the other day, she said, "Aw, Disney! That was so much fun!" And every time we mention it to each other, some variation of "that was the best time" comes out.

So, that was our Disney vacation! I still smile uncontrollably when I look at photos and videos from it. (That's what all those record-keeping devices are for, right?) We've vacationed with Gramma and Aunty D to many places before and after, but this one was particularly memorable because of the perfect, celebratory circumstances, and the fact that my sis and I were still pretty new to planning travel by ourselves.

Next week, Gramma and Aunty D will be moving back in with my parents. I'm sure it will be an adjustment all around, but I can say in full certainty that I'm SO glad. Not only will this make care-taking a lot easier for everyone, it'll be great to have them so close. I love them both dearly and I'm grateful for the extra time we'll get to have when we visit. They lived with us when I was very young, so it's kind of like coming full circle!

Hopefully we'll make lots of fun memories with them in this next stage of life. I love seeing Gramma with her great-grandchildren (and hope to add my own kids among them someday!). And Aunty D's enthusiasm for life and experiencing new things always helps bring out "the kid in me." There's lots of good ahead.

So here are just a few of my birthday wishes for Gramma:

May you be full of God's peace and joy.

May He bless you with good health and happy years.

May you be surrounded by the love you so freely give.

May you enjoy the true fullness of knowing Jesus as your Savior.

And may you always "go crazy" with excitement for what God's done in your life, and how He's used to you bless others.

I love you, Gramma-ma!

Excuses, Excuses

I really hate it when I'm following someone's blog or other work and suddenly there's a huge break in the posts! Yes, I broke that cardinal sin of blogging. So let me start this long-awaited post with a few "excuses":

1. Summer sunshine
2. Summer adventures
3. Summer roadtrips
4. Summer visitors
5. Summer leaving
6. Fall starting
7. Fall fun
8. Fall finishing
9. Winter arriving
10. Annoying health problems
11. Life

How's that? Summer is the biggest excuse, mainly because it kept us so busy that I almost forgot the existence of my blog. (Almost.) Also because sun is so scarce, we spent every available minute, it seems, outside! The grandest adventures took place in the mountains. I undertook my very first backpacking trip with an amazing group of friends in the Olympic Mountains. (Earning myself, albeit loosely, the title of "Olympian.") I also took countless day hikes with super-husband and the in-laws, and while I'm still not even close to matching their stamina, I've enjoyed each trip. Throw in an afternoon on our very own lawn, drinking Italian sodas and reading travel magazines and it's no wonder why I LOVE WASHINGTON SUMMERS!


Super-husband also took me on an incredible road trip of the Oregon coast. I couldn't believe how incredibly beautiful and unique each stop turned out! Plus, car camping is my favorite. OK, I hate unloading the car, and if you're stuck with a parking spot more than fifty feet from your site, it can get a little tedious. I knew I liked car camping before this trip, but I never knew how much I love it! I blame the slow pace, clothes that smell of campfire smoke, and quiet mornings around the cook stove. Granted, the weather was beautiful every night we were in a tent.

Summer made its exit with "Lawn Destroying 101." Due to the lovely lack of rain all summer, our poor lawn turned brown by late September. Don't label us "Green Thumbless" just yet! We managed to keep a mini-garden of carrots and tomatoes alive all summer. (Technically, there were still tomatoes on the vine in early November, but they wouldn't taste too good. We couldn't get them to stop growing!) The peas were a failure this time around, but the real autumn harvest treasure came when...

...we got to go apple picking in our back yard! These sweet, juicy gems were almost too much for us! We couldn't eat, freeze, or give them away fast enough. (There may or may not be a bag of smooshy ones in our garage still.)

Fall flew by like the blustery days that brought back the rain. *sad face* In spite of my lack of faith in super-husband's wisdom, the grass in our lawn DID grow back by November! (He forgave my doubt. I'm a stubborn New Englander after all, who knows that once the grass withers in autumn, it's gone until spring!) That brings us to my favorite season of the year (at least in snowy climates): WINTER! Our little home turned into a winter wonderland (at least on the inside), mainly with all the silver-and-blue snowflake-themed decorations from our wedding. We've enjoyed countless Christmassy events with friends and family, and are looking forward to flying back east for Christmas. (There's another blog post or two bound to come out of that trip, if not before!)

Now that we're all caught up...oh, you want to know about the annoying health problems, huh? Suffice it to say that my Native American (only 1/32, mind you!) and Scandinavian heritage inspired my gallbladder to create precious stones! Frankly, it should've stuck with bile production. Now I'm one more organ short and unable to enjoy all the fatty treats of the holiday season with reckless abandon. Oh well. There's always next year.

Speaking of next year, this would be a good time to introduce my hopes for a little blog revamping in 2013. I don't have nearly as much time to write and reflect as I used to (pre-job), but I hope to continue chasing a few goals and writing more than a few musings about the journey. You still with me?

P.S. Sorry about the delay...now 'fess up! You didn't even know I was gone! *wink*

Blue Sky

The floor needs to be swept...again...and there's still half a pile of laundry waiting to be folded. But today, this is more important. It's been one of those months where I've been word hungry—dying to write, but with little or no time to do it. Finally, I get to sit down and have a good, home-cooked word meal. I'll have to eat quick though. (Did I mention I need to be out the door in thirty minutes?)

The sky came out this week, just in time for Independence Day. The sun came too, but it was the robin's egg blue that really got me. Usually, I only see patches of it through clumps of clouds the color of dirty snow. Recently, however, the whole sky feels so open and wide. It stretches to the horizons I've forgotten. Suddenly, the mountain ranges on every side seem closer than I remember. The green of trees really pop under the blue (or over it, when you're by the water).

Yesterday evening, super-husband and I took a walk down to the beach. He prepared a feast of a picnic, which far surpasses the sorry excuse for a dinner I usually whip up on busy nights. He told me I needed to breathe. I hadn't even realized I was holding my breath! But I was. And it costs not only me, but those around me. You know that feeling? Feeling the pressure build, like you're a can of soda (or pop, for my West/Midwest friends) being shaken up. Not pretty when that thing explodes!

So I breathed. I realize how often my words, both spoken and written, often revolve around the hard things—storms and rough waters. Sometimes that's when you need words most. But what about when the sky is out? And it's so blue, you can't quite match it to anything else in the world? I'm ready to talk about those things more. I need to! It's more like the fizzy bubbles of ginger ale rising in me than a "carbonation explosion."

I was blessed to see seven old friends in the past three weeks. It made me so happy to see each of them growing where they've been planted, and thriving! They're not the same people they were in college. Neither am I! I love who they were and who they've become. We had such fun—enjoying long chats together, road trippin', celebrating a wedding, and exploring new places around Seattle I hadn't even seen yet! Each experience with each different group was like a beautiful sunny day, regardless of the weather. (Sorry, friends who got to see the "real" Pacific Northwest. You missed summer by a day.) They were my blue sky!

Our new(er) friends here are my blue sky, too. Each one adds so much to our life here that it's hard to imagine it without them. And isn't it ironic, and rather appropriate, that our home church is called "Blue Sky Church"? I love that! God's grace is the source of all my blue skies in life. Wouldn't exist without Him! And I'm so excited to see what other blue skies He will reveal to us this summer.

Ready. Set. GO! Super-husband and I are anticipating an excellent season of blue sky (both literal and metaphorical). He finished yet another exam recently, and that means more time to go adventuring (my favorite!) and stay-cationing (equally relaxing as vacationing, in my book). Next up, a road trip along the Oregon coast. Super-husband says I need to get to know my home better, and that includes our neighboring state. What are you going to do under the blue sky this summer? I really want to know!

Chasing the Sun

Whenever I flew out to see my husband during our dating years, I'd think of it as "Chasing the Sun." It was especially true when I'd fly across the country at sunset, when the sun's descent seemed the longest I'd seen. So what do you call flying out east? "Chasing the Moon?" It felt that way just a few short weeks ago when we flew out east for a friend's wedding, and to begin another adventure. I loved flying into Boston at night, seeing all the lights reflected in the harbor. And of course, the people awaiting us were even more lovely! It went so fast--the wedding, seeing old high school friends, going to church, and having a spectacular party at home with relatives. (It was like the Memorial Day or Fourth of July gatherings I missed/will miss, and what I so desperately craved!) And as the sun came up on our third morning in New Hampshire, we heard the call...

"GO WEST YOUNG (WO)MAN!" This seemed to be our motto as we headed out again from my parent's house, car full of the last of my belongings in my "gutted" old room. (Did I mention how bizarre and awesome it was to be in my old childhood room again? Waking up to that same, glorious view of the green-leafed trees in the morning light was as invigorating as I remember.)...ah, getting a little sidetracked. But that happens on every great road trip! *cue Bonanza theme music*

I've always wanted to drive cross-country, and see all the "in-between" places I've missed in my travels. So the prospect of driving over 3,500 miles to get my car out to Washington didn't seem so horrible when I considered all the good things that were in store for us. First, it was revisiting the area around our old alma mater (where our journey together really first began) and some of our best friends from college. Then it was on to the flat, farmland between Pennsylvania and Wisconsin. Driving through Chicago was an unexpected part of our route, as was the traffic we'd hoped to avoid. But seeing a mid-west city up close gave us another point of reference for our long trip across the U.S.

Having finally left all familiar territory behind, we headed to South Dakota. The beauty and variation of this state was thrilling to me! Going from flat fields to grassy, rolling hills in the plains takes you by surprise, as does the sudden dry, rocky landscape of the Badlands. Exploring these colorful, desert, natural rock formations was like stepping on to another planet. And the change continued when we headed farther west to the lush, green areas around Mt. Rushmore. This national landmark truly inspires patriotism, as my husband pointed out, and the whole journey west increased our appreciation for the natural (and cultivated) beauty and uniqueness of our nation. It's incredible to see how far we've come and the way certain areas of our country have developed, thanks to the service of dedicated men and women.

Wyoming was another gem we hadn't expected. After miles of more flatland, the mountain pass recommended to us by a visitor's center employee sounded blissful...and it was! From 10,000ft elevation, the blue sky, bright and sunlit snow, and all sorts of natural wildlife continued to charm us. It wasn't until stumbling across a juniper scented valley, with hidden waterfalls which suddenly appear, that we finally laughed in incredulity. Who knew these echoes-of-Heaven would be a part of our journey? Or even that such places exist outside our little bubble? And standing on a secluded bridge in that valley with my husband, I appreciated having a travel partner all the more...someone to share in the wonder of God's fingerprints.

From the old west feel of Cody, WY (named after the Buffalo Bill Cody) to the "wild" of Yellowstone (sleeping grizzly anyone?), our trip continued to feel like something straight out of a movie. Of course, we had to stop at some of those tourist traps boasting "The world's only..." or "Famous for..." because it wouldn't be a genuine road trip without them! However, the natural spots were our favorite, which is why we chose to camp all but one night. We'd thought the geysers of Yellowstone were the last "wonder" of our trip, but were pleasantly surprised by the real Montana cowboy riding with his hat and bandanna along I-90, and the fresh apples we bought at a roadside stand in eastern Washington. Even the familiar Cascade and Olympic mountain ranges, and our very own Space Needle seemed new and fresh to us.

All along the way, God plopped little gifts and signs of His glory in our laps, until we began to wait expectantly for them with open hands. That's what I learned from chasing the sun.