Monday, March 29, 2010

"Honey, don't slap your sister with a sausage skin."

Count that among the top five sentences I never thought would come out of my mouth.

It was a vibrant weekend.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Well lookie here

I see we've found ourselves in the middle of the ocean. Why not? It's better than a plain white background, and I've been too lazy either 1) to change the thing myself or 2) beg my boyfriend, who does this sort of thing for a living, to do it for me. Now that blogger has come up (finally) with some nifty, idiot-proof toys, I'm happy to have a bit of fun with it.

Is anyone finding it a bit disorienting to be reading this blog adrift in open water? I have to admit it takes me aback a bit. I might change it after awhile.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

First trip of the year

T and I are taking his kids backpacking for the first time this weekend. The kids have done their fair share of camping and hiking, but have never combined the two into backpacking. Tomorrow we'll drive south, Thomas in tow, to the Red River Gorge near Lexington. In all my years here, I've never hiked there, so this weekend will offer an opportunity to see a new place.

Pictures and stories to come.

New pillowcases

The geckoes are my favorite. Originally I had planned that the body of the pillowcase would be done in the gecko fabric, but I cut wrong! So now I have to order more gecko batik. And for now, the lizards will remain on the cuff of the pillowcase.

Monday, March 22, 2010

And he would do it all over again

We stared at this article last night in bed, T and I, our mouths hanging open in awe. The dedication here -- no, the need evident in this photographer's actions is humbling to me.

And I will have to spend some time pondering that. Because that's just the sort of thing that I do.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Back there

If we want to get to heaven, boys
We must cross Logan Pass

--David Walburn, Going to the Sun

Ouch. It hit me this morning, on my way into the office, driving along the highway in the damp late winter of central Indiana.

I miss Montana. No -- that's not it. I've missed Montana for two years. This was different. It was a visceral, overwhelming gut pain to be there - not just Montana, mind you, but somewhere specific. I want to be in Glacier. As strange as it may seem, Glacier is mine, much more than it was ever ours. I don't miss Libby or the Kootenai Valley in quite the same way, because those places belonged to that family that no longer exists. I think of that little corner of Montana frequently, occasionally even wistfully, but I've no real desire to go back.

Glacier, though, pulls and tugs at my insides, calling me back, and making my heart hurt. Even with the opportunities to go to new places, I'm still drawn back there like some mindlessly persistent salmon finding its way home.

I'll need to sit with it for awhile.

Sometimes these things pass.

Sometimes they don't.