Wednesday, August 12, 2009

The Time Has Come


The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright--
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done--
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead--
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head--
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."


"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

-Lewis Carroll

Happy Wednedsay!

Monday, August 10, 2009

30 Miles Later

I spent my weekend hiking the Grand Canyon. Hiking Havasupai, to be exact. In short, it was one of the coolest things I have ever done. Of course this is my writing we are talking about and “in short” does not quite cut it. I have been thinking about how to write about this experience since about halfway through the 11-mile hike out of the canyon. It started as a way to keep my mind on anything other than what I was doing but quickly devolved into a struggle to come up with the right words to describe what I was going through. Luckily I have lots of pictures to call upon when my words fail me, a fact I have already accepted.

I expected to be exhausted after this trip. I did not, however, expect to be both physically and emotionally drained. I did not expect to be so moved by hiking though the Grand Canyon at midnight. I did not expect that standing in the freezing cold spray of a 200-ft. waterfall would in all honesty be one of the most amazing things I have ever done. I did not expect to want to quit so badly during that last mile of switchbacks I did not expect to feel so discouraged and so triumphant and so exhilarated in such a short period of time. I did not expect any of this, but I am so grateful it happened.

Thursday night was spent hiking from about 10pm- 2am. When we first arrived we were told night hiking was “discouraged” and to not go any further than the first mile of switchbacks. Oh, and we were also told to watch out for Rattlesnakes. Lovely. We listened politely to the advice and then set off, fully determined to hike the first 8 miles that night, sleeping right outside the Indian Village Supai. So that is what we did. I probably did not get to experience to complete beauty of the canyon this way but I am so glad we hiked in the dark. At this point I know I could have done it with the sun out, but I am glad I did not have to.

Friday morning we hiked the last 3 miles through the village to the campgrounds. All of Friday and Saturday was spent hiking to the falls, playing in water, and lying around in the heat, too exhausted, sore, and sunburned to move. It was fantastic. Late Saturday afternoon I started to get extremely worried that I literally would not be able to make it out of the canyon in one piece. My legs screamed in pain with every step. My shoulders hurt even with out the pack on them from careless sunburn. My toe was sore from a giant blister. My head and neck both ached. My body was protesting. If there had been any other way out, I would have taken it. If there had been a big, red, “I quit” button I would have pushed it. Had I been one extremely pathetic D-list celebrity on one pathetic reality show I would have yelled “I’m a celebrity, get me out of here.” If any of this had been an option, I would have done it. Thank goodness it wasn’t.

The hike out lasted me from about 6pm-11pm. Some people in the group took considerably less time, others took considerably more. I did not truly want to give up until I hit the switchbacks, the never ending ascent up the mountain. I was warned they would be brutal, but either I did not take the warning seriously enough or people were sugar coating the experience for me. Brutal does not even begin to cover it. If I ever learn a word that does do the experience justice, I will make a note of it and amend this post.

After we were done hiking one of the boys on the trip remarked “once we got to those switchbacks I just wanted to run up them as fast as possible.”

Funny. I wanted to throw myself off the mountain.
To each his own, I suppose.

By the time I finished and sat down, I couldn’t move anymore. I was drenched in sweat, shaking, short of breath, and in more physical pain than I can remember in a long while. I was laughing to keep from crying. I finished by myself, but I could not have been more proud of what I had just done. It was miserable. It was perfect. I am a little beat up, and my body hates me today, but I am no worse for the wear. I’ll be good as new in a few days time.

And now my futile explanation is over, and I present you with thousands of words that might actually mean something.

This is Mooney, the first fall we visited. I did not get any pictures of this one; mostly because I was too busy concentrating on not falling of the mountain on the way down. So I did not take these pictures, but I am sharing them because this is exactly what I saw.




And now we move on to pictures I actually did take, starting at the beginning.


{My smile is deceptive. My shoulders already hurt from the weight of the pack, and I had yet to go anywhere. I knew I had a long trip ahead of me.}

Scenery around camp.




Havasu Falls, the sight of the first jump. It was a small jump, but climbing up those moss covered rocks with the spray of the waterfall pounding in my face, making it difficult to breath or see, made the jump more exciting than it would have been otherwise.






Elyse & I


One of the new falls created by last years flood, perfect for jumping from the top. This was one of the best parts of the entire experience.




The Fourth Waterfall we saw. I did not have the chance to get close to this one, but it was beautiful nonetheless.







I only wish I had a picture of what I looked like when I was finished with the hike. Death, pride, relief, exhaustion, pain, life and joy personified.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Olvidamos.

We forgot how to be silly together.

We forgot how to fight.

We forgot how to appreciate.

We forgot how to forgive.

We forgot how to play.

We forgot how to compromise.

We forgot how to kiss.

We forgot how to laugh.

We forgot how to trust.

We forgot how to hope.

We forgot how to dream.

We forgot how to care for each other.

We forgot how to put each other first.

We forgot what mattered.

We forgot what didn’t.

“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are.

Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.... we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.”


{I never once forgot I loved You. I sometimes forgot to show it.}

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Song Of The Day

Little Letters

Dear Brain,
Do yourself a favor and give it a rest so I can get some much needed sleep. You are in overdrive and it is entirely unnecessary.

Dear Family,
Why so many marriages? Anyway, I am very happy for all of you.

Dear Boys,
Desperation ain’t a good look on you. Trust me.

Dear Havasupai,
Go easy on me this weekend. I am beyond nervous but also terribly excited.

Dear Feet,
Please carry me in and out of Havasupai in one piece. I don’t care what you do when it is over; just get me through the weekend. Please.

Dear The Time Traveler’s Wife,
Am I the only one who thinks you are not all that great? Granted, I am still a little less than halfway through, but I have yet to find you “enchanting” or “dizzyingly romantic.” I can only hope you get much better or the movie outdoes you.

Dear Monsoon Season,
Where did you go? Wish you were here.

Dear (500) Days of Summer,
Come to a theater near me. I am dying to see you.

Dear Summer,
Tread lightly on your way out. But if you must go, please take all of this insufferable heat with you and for once let us in Arizona enjoy a real autumn.

Dear Brand New Bedroom,
I can only hope the makeover I decided to give you will pay off. Right now I am not so sure. Right now you look a little strange, to be perfectly honest. I am not sure what to do about that.

Dear Journal,
I apologize for neglecting you in favor of my blog. You don’t deserve to be shunned. You have treated me exceptionally well for the past 9 years.

Dear Stomach,
Quit belly aching, won’t you? As I told my brain, I need some sleep.

{Thanks Rockstars}

Monday, August 3, 2009

A George Costanza Moment


I have been living in mild chaos the last couple of days. Chaos which has forced me to sleep downstairs on the couch. Chaos which has made the simple act of getting ready for the day nigh impossible (Yay pajamas!). Chaos which has stressed me out.

Stress which culminated in this.


My adorable skirt, ripped right in half.

I have spent the morning scouring Youtube (what a productive use of my time) looking for the clip from Seinfeld where George is in his therapists office and the zipper on his coat gets stuck. Since I could not find the clip anywhere, you will have to do your best to remember it. If you have never seen it, you have to close my blog right now and start watching Seinfeld. Seriously. Right now. Anyway, back to my story. So my zipper gets stuck half way up, and I cannot for the life of me get it to budge an inch. If you have ever had a stuck zipper, you understand that there are few things in life more frustrating. I yank and yank and yank on it, becoming increasingly flustered because today of all days is the one day I must get to church on time, as I have been asked to give the opening prayer. I finally concede and slip the skirt off of me, even though I have nothing else to wear. Still upset however, and at a loss for what to do, I continue to pull at my skirt. I pull until it rips. And then I just continue ripping it because I suddenly hate the sight of the darling skirt and never ever want to wear it again. I step on it and rip the attached slip almost to shreds. I continue to tear until all my stress has been released in the form of demolishing a perfectly good (minus the zipper) article of clothing. Good riddance. I take a deep breath. And I feel a little bit calmer.

Unfortunately though this episode took longer than anticipated. My hair was still undone and I still had nothing to wear. Hence, I was late for church on the one day I couldn’t be. And I am never late for church. I also ended up in shoes that did not match because by this time I did not care. They were cute. And sometimes that is all that matters.


Excuse me now. Someone needs to go skirt shopping.

Enjoy the videos. (Not the ones I wanted, but still entirely fabulous.)



Sunday, August 2, 2009

Saturday Night.

Meeting new people is exhausting. Truly, physically exhausting.

Natalie reckons I am the laziest person she has ever met.

But, really. After a 6 hour shift of non-stop running back and forth, just making conversation with strangers for an extended period of time is enough to tire me out.

Whew. Time to put the brakes on.


Time for bed.