My arms are killing me! I always thought that playing on rope swings was just downright fun, but I never realized it’s a killer workout too. Such are the joys of mistakenly growing up and then fighting your way back to childhood.
I spent the weekend playing at Krauss Springs just west of Austin and finally got up the nerve to play on the swing.
I spent most of Saturday watching little kids scramble up the large rock to jubilantly throw themselves off into oblivion with the help of a worn piece of rope and happily splash into the water, disappear for a seconds, emerge laughing, and then repeat all over again. That should have drawn me straight to this simply divine invention, but the much heavier and much more awkward splashes of folks from my group turned me into a big chicken. Granted folks from my group had indulged in some vodka before hand (never recommended, but I let it slide since Russians were among us and the water was deep) and one was sporting a bandaged wrist, but still…it looked kind of painful. I had visions of myself stepping off the boulder with thoughts of elegance in my head and instead of effortlessly flying through the air before doing a triple double twist back-flip, my lack of arm muscles would leave me slipping down the rope ending in a very un-elegant belly flop.
Thank goodness for Marisa. Sunday before the crowds had gathered to laugh at my rope swinging skills we headed down to the water to give it a go. On her second try (EVER) on a rope swing she pulled off a half back flip into a dive, legs together, toes pointed, beautiful. Thus, she cemented herself forever more as my personal super hero and beacon of hope for all of us heading towards our 30s and beyond.
My skills leave much to be desired, but I did avoid the dreaded sliding belly flop move that I thought I’d become famous for. I compensated for my lack of any recognizable arm muscles by quickly wrapping my legs around the rope, plunking my body weight on a very hard knot, and hanging on for dear life. Luckily I remembered to let go before I smashed back into the rock. I may not have perfected the back dive (yet), but I can do a mean twist and I got the most important skill down…scrambling back up the rock to give it another go, again and again and again.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Broken?
How do you know when something’s really broken? Is there an in-between stage or is it just broken or not? Assuming that there is, is it better to get rid of it when it starts to break or hold on until the end? And why do simple actions turn into big philosophical questions for the Wilson children?
I chipped my coffee cup yesterday. Not a little chip that’s kind of cute, but a big chunk out of the side of the dark blue cup that now reveals a starkly contrasting white inside. I’m convinced that this would be a simple event for anyone else. It’s ugly, throw it away. Instead, for the past two days I keep glancing over at it (carefully placed by the side of my computer so others can’t see its imperfections) wondering if I should do the unthinkable and put it in my trash can. It still holds water, it’s served me faithfully for a year or so, my job is about reducing waste, and yet everything in our culture tells me to throw it away and I’m slightly ashamed of my imperfect coffee cup and then ashamed for being so superficial that an old potentially broken coffee cup embarrasses me. If it was a model it would be Cindy Crawford, but…now she’s over the hill and doing tv commercials for furniture company so what does that tell you?
If I really think of my coffee cup (which shouldn’t even be called a coffee cup because it only ever holds tea, water, and emergen-c) as a person or even a relationship, then the past year would tell me to throw it away. Why keep something around because it’s been around for a while, when we all know that that seemingly harmless chip could turn into a crack and then one day I end up scalded by hot tea and cursing the shards of cup in my lap…better to play it safe and trash it…right? Or is it better to keep the idealistic view that imperfections can be beauty and a sign of strength? Maybe my coffee cup will serve me for years and can become a teaching tool for how we view waste culturally.
For now it’ll continue to peek at me from the edge of the desk until I either get the courage to bring it into full view imperfections and all, or I learn to cut attachments and move forward. Either way the coffee cup probably thinks I’m nuts and after all of this and definitely deserves a name.
I chipped my coffee cup yesterday. Not a little chip that’s kind of cute, but a big chunk out of the side of the dark blue cup that now reveals a starkly contrasting white inside. I’m convinced that this would be a simple event for anyone else. It’s ugly, throw it away. Instead, for the past two days I keep glancing over at it (carefully placed by the side of my computer so others can’t see its imperfections) wondering if I should do the unthinkable and put it in my trash can. It still holds water, it’s served me faithfully for a year or so, my job is about reducing waste, and yet everything in our culture tells me to throw it away and I’m slightly ashamed of my imperfect coffee cup and then ashamed for being so superficial that an old potentially broken coffee cup embarrasses me. If it was a model it would be Cindy Crawford, but…now she’s over the hill and doing tv commercials for furniture company so what does that tell you?
If I really think of my coffee cup (which shouldn’t even be called a coffee cup because it only ever holds tea, water, and emergen-c) as a person or even a relationship, then the past year would tell me to throw it away. Why keep something around because it’s been around for a while, when we all know that that seemingly harmless chip could turn into a crack and then one day I end up scalded by hot tea and cursing the shards of cup in my lap…better to play it safe and trash it…right? Or is it better to keep the idealistic view that imperfections can be beauty and a sign of strength? Maybe my coffee cup will serve me for years and can become a teaching tool for how we view waste culturally.
For now it’ll continue to peek at me from the edge of the desk until I either get the courage to bring it into full view imperfections and all, or I learn to cut attachments and move forward. Either way the coffee cup probably thinks I’m nuts and after all of this and definitely deserves a name.
Friday, July 20, 2007
When I was 25...in no particular order
When I was twenty-five I…
*finally got my drivers license
*bought my first car
*got to live with my little brother and get to know him
*felt how hard it is to be hit by a car
*endured months of physical therapy but came out on top
*learnt to trust my chiropractor enough to let her do that scary-spin-your-head-around-thingy
*really truly began to value a body that works
*saw several friends become beautiful/kind wives and even mothers
*got to hold a new born
*learnt that I’m strong enough to leave a bad relationship
*rediscovered myself
*took swing dancing classes
*tried to buy a house and realized that I’m not ready for that just yet
*discovered that I can spend months organizing thousands of volunteers, have the event postponed due to flooding, and somewhere find the energy to turn it all around and do the entire event 3 weeks later
*danced at a Temptations concert (Otis is an original)
*went to Graceland
*realized that I’d like to have children one day, but only if it’s with the right partner
*ate a hot pink sausage that came in a wrapper with a pig on it, but upon closer inspection was made of beef heart and reprocessed chicken parts (ewww)
*joined the board of directors for Friends of McKinney Falls State Park
*made some amazing new friends and learnt to cherish the classics
*climbed a 14,271 foot mountain
*felt overwhelming gratitude for being alive after making it off of the sand dunes after a lightning/hail storm
*decided that my Daddy really truly is my hero (he covered my body with his during the hail storm and did his best to minimize my hypothermia)
*got to see my brother graduate from UT and become a working architect
*went sledding on pizza pans
*took up running and yoga on a regular basis
*had nude photos taken of myself, not for anyone else, just for me because for the first time I’m comfortable in my skin…and just in case I’m lucky enough to have grandkids one day it’ll be nice to freak them out a bit
*got a beautiful painting “Marion” from my sister
*learnt to make rice with just a pot and lid versus my lovely rice maker
*was invited for the first time to speak at a conference
*fostered a stray dog (Chaca…now Daisy)
*saw Town Lake become a roaring river
*witnessed and played in the greenbelt with lots of flowing water in July
*joined not one but two book clubs
*for the first time in perhaps my entire life became really excited about living and the future.
Who knows what’s in store for me as a 26 year old? If I have anything to say about it (and trust me I do), it’ll involve cliff jumping, climbing Kilimanjaro, learning to play the fiddle and speak Spanish, and completing a triathlon (even if it’s just a sprint). Bring it on!
*finally got my drivers license
*bought my first car
*got to live with my little brother and get to know him
*felt how hard it is to be hit by a car
*endured months of physical therapy but came out on top
*learnt to trust my chiropractor enough to let her do that scary-spin-your-head-around-thingy
*really truly began to value a body that works
*saw several friends become beautiful/kind wives and even mothers
*got to hold a new born
*learnt that I’m strong enough to leave a bad relationship
*rediscovered myself
*took swing dancing classes
*tried to buy a house and realized that I’m not ready for that just yet
*discovered that I can spend months organizing thousands of volunteers, have the event postponed due to flooding, and somewhere find the energy to turn it all around and do the entire event 3 weeks later
*danced at a Temptations concert (Otis is an original)
*went to Graceland
*realized that I’d like to have children one day, but only if it’s with the right partner
*ate a hot pink sausage that came in a wrapper with a pig on it, but upon closer inspection was made of beef heart and reprocessed chicken parts (ewww)
*joined the board of directors for Friends of McKinney Falls State Park
*made some amazing new friends and learnt to cherish the classics
*climbed a 14,271 foot mountain
*felt overwhelming gratitude for being alive after making it off of the sand dunes after a lightning/hail storm
*decided that my Daddy really truly is my hero (he covered my body with his during the hail storm and did his best to minimize my hypothermia)
*got to see my brother graduate from UT and become a working architect
*went sledding on pizza pans
*took up running and yoga on a regular basis
*had nude photos taken of myself, not for anyone else, just for me because for the first time I’m comfortable in my skin…and just in case I’m lucky enough to have grandkids one day it’ll be nice to freak them out a bit
*got a beautiful painting “Marion” from my sister
*learnt to make rice with just a pot and lid versus my lovely rice maker
*was invited for the first time to speak at a conference
*fostered a stray dog (Chaca…now Daisy)
*saw Town Lake become a roaring river
*witnessed and played in the greenbelt with lots of flowing water in July
*joined not one but two book clubs
*for the first time in perhaps my entire life became really excited about living and the future.
Who knows what’s in store for me as a 26 year old? If I have anything to say about it (and trust me I do), it’ll involve cliff jumping, climbing Kilimanjaro, learning to play the fiddle and speak Spanish, and completing a triathlon (even if it’s just a sprint). Bring it on!
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
white rabbits, white rabbits, white mountain goats?
Sunday-July 1st
Don't you love how days of the week suddenly loose their meaning when you're on vacation? It really takes a while to work out what day of the week it is, and then what's the point anyway...to work out how many days it is until you have to know what day of the week you're on?
So it's official, I fall in love easily. I'm head over heels in love with Colorado. Wake up, open the window, and what's that a mountain? Pure serenity.
Having hauled the bikes all the way from TX the only logical thing to do was go out for an early morning ride to discover Silverthorne. As i was about to sneak out, Daddy woke up and decided to join me. Me on my shiny new bike (some good things came out of the accident) and Daddy on my first "grownup" bike that I got when I was 13. So off we went, one of us creaking a bit more than the other. We made it to the top of the Dillon damn wall and rode along the paved path overlooking a smooth lake with rough mountains providing the background.
Once Laura was up we took her off for a MacDonald's breakfast. My first idea with the early morning bike ride was to find a little bakery and surprise everyone with fancy pasteries...oh well. One call to Mommy put us on what would be a more appropriate track, the quest for a MacDonald's breakfast burrito. Once satisfied with savories we took Laura off to look for the little town of Keeney and a break overlooking another lake. We found a bush to provide some shade and watched everyone zipping about on their motorboats.
After lunch, Daddy let me pick a hike so up to the Continental Divide we went. The drive was terrifying for someone who hates heights and more so because Daddy was fascinated by everything around him except the road in front. :)
Don't you love how days of the week suddenly loose their meaning when you're on vacation? It really takes a while to work out what day of the week it is, and then what's the point anyway...to work out how many days it is until you have to know what day of the week you're on?
So it's official, I fall in love easily. I'm head over heels in love with Colorado. Wake up, open the window, and what's that a mountain? Pure serenity.
Having hauled the bikes all the way from TX the only logical thing to do was go out for an early morning ride to discover Silverthorne. As i was about to sneak out, Daddy woke up and decided to join me. Me on my shiny new bike (some good things came out of the accident) and Daddy on my first "grownup" bike that I got when I was 13. So off we went, one of us creaking a bit more than the other. We made it to the top of the Dillon damn wall and rode along the paved path overlooking a smooth lake with rough mountains providing the background.
Once Laura was up we took her off for a MacDonald's breakfast. My first idea with the early morning bike ride was to find a little bakery and surprise everyone with fancy pasteries...oh well. One call to Mommy put us on what would be a more appropriate track, the quest for a MacDonald's breakfast burrito. Once satisfied with savories we took Laura off to look for the little town of Keeney and a break overlooking another lake. We found a bush to provide some shade and watched everyone zipping about on their motorboats.
After lunch, Daddy let me pick a hike so up to the Continental Divide we went. The drive was terrifying for someone who hates heights and more so because Daddy was fascinated by everything around him except the road in front. :)
Monday, July 2, 2007
4th of July road trip...how American (I mean USAn)
My co-workers look at me like I'm daft, but I'd really rather take a road trip than spend a weekend in Vegas...Cabo might be a different story. Seeing as I'm homeless for a couple of weeks I did what any logical twenty something would do, decided to go on a road trip. To make it even better my Daddy (who's commonly mistaken for Crocodile Dundee or Indiana Jones) came with me.
Friday, June 29
Left work early and rushed back to meet Daddy, and hopefully beat Austin traffic leaving town. We were in luck and drove for what seemed like forever. Quiet, simple, just driving. We were supposed to spend the night in the parking lot of a truck stop in Lubbok, but we pushed on into the night and crashed at an equally lovely gas station in Amarillo. The last time I spent the night in a car there were four of us, so having an ENTIRE back seat to myself was luxury.
Saturday, June 30
6:30am and time to set off. Daddy took the first shift of driving, and as I stared out the window with red eyes I noticed a river that was just as red. Now, if I comment to most people about how much fun it would be to take an early morning swim in a red river they'd laugh politely and drive on. Thank goodness I was with a Wilson...for those of you who haven't been around us in a while...we're a different breed. Daddy promptly did a U turn, left the road, and let me wade in the tomato soup with the sun still low in the sky and the various textures of sediment squishy through my toes. While he searched for his trunks in the boot, I took my bike off to explore the red sand dunes. When I came back the professional folks were unloading the atv's. At least it made me feel a bit better that I'd had so much trouble peddling up the red sand dunes in my bare feet...come to think of it, they're just woosies. I positioned myself strategically behind the car and wiggled into my swim suit too. Then it was time to swim in the soup. Refreshing, goofy, and fake tan inducing, aka fabulous. We reluctantly left the Canadian river and went down the road.
Hay stacks! Not the large round bales that we used to hop on at the chicken farm or the small square bales that we used to build forts out of and stack in the barn, but square bales on steroids. Better than that, they were stacked on top of each other into huge walls that just seem to be crying out for someone to shoot a cannon at it and play fort. Bless Daddy because he's flexible enough to deviate from his schedule and let his 25 year old "little" girl go play in the hay. Man was I lot stronger when I was 10. I'm still just as stubborn though and with the twine cutting into my fingers I hauled myself onto the top of the fortress and ran down the ridge, which evoked a few honks from the highway. Somehow I made it back down too, which is always much scarier.
Dramatic hills rising out of the plains was my next fascination, so up we went. Car pulled onto the grass, flip flops thrown on, and up the cactus covered hill we went with pronghorn antelope scattering before us. At the top we were rewarded with breathtaking views, which was very fortunate because we needed all the breath we could get. Butterflies feasting on nectar and a male pronghorn barking out a warning below us. On the way down we woke a startled coyote from his afternoon nap and he relunctantly made his way to the top of the hill and posed proudly on a large rock. With a lot of luck and some careful footwork I made it to the bottom with only a few holes in my feet. When we got back to the car one of the bikes was pulled off, but thankfully still locked to the other bike and the bike rack. Looks like we foiled someone.
I'm not a fan of interstates, so in Pueblo we left the big road and headed NW on Hwy 9. A brilliant choice on my part I think. We stopped off at Royal Gorge, but quickly decided that it was Colorado's version of Disney Land, complete with ques. The rest of the drive was spectacular as we gradually climbed into the mountains passing now isolated communities. Looking at a creek on the left I saw what looked like a beaver dam, but it couldn't be could it...could it? Only one way to find out, time to stop the car again. It was a beaver damn and lodge. No sign of the actual beaver, but loads of nawed logs. Nature really is incredible. Later we passed a heard of bison grazing on the plains. Over one large pass, past Dillon resevoir, and we found Laura in Silverthorne.
We just made it to the destination, but would I trade in the journey if someone offered me a private flight? NEVER! (Well maybe when I hit my 30s)
Friday, June 29
Left work early and rushed back to meet Daddy, and hopefully beat Austin traffic leaving town. We were in luck and drove for what seemed like forever. Quiet, simple, just driving. We were supposed to spend the night in the parking lot of a truck stop in Lubbok, but we pushed on into the night and crashed at an equally lovely gas station in Amarillo. The last time I spent the night in a car there were four of us, so having an ENTIRE back seat to myself was luxury.
Saturday, June 30
6:30am and time to set off. Daddy took the first shift of driving, and as I stared out the window with red eyes I noticed a river that was just as red. Now, if I comment to most people about how much fun it would be to take an early morning swim in a red river they'd laugh politely and drive on. Thank goodness I was with a Wilson...for those of you who haven't been around us in a while...we're a different breed. Daddy promptly did a U turn, left the road, and let me wade in the tomato soup with the sun still low in the sky and the various textures of sediment squishy through my toes. While he searched for his trunks in the boot, I took my bike off to explore the red sand dunes. When I came back the professional folks were unloading the atv's. At least it made me feel a bit better that I'd had so much trouble peddling up the red sand dunes in my bare feet...come to think of it, they're just woosies. I positioned myself strategically behind the car and wiggled into my swim suit too. Then it was time to swim in the soup. Refreshing, goofy, and fake tan inducing, aka fabulous. We reluctantly left the Canadian river and went down the road.
Hay stacks! Not the large round bales that we used to hop on at the chicken farm or the small square bales that we used to build forts out of and stack in the barn, but square bales on steroids. Better than that, they were stacked on top of each other into huge walls that just seem to be crying out for someone to shoot a cannon at it and play fort. Bless Daddy because he's flexible enough to deviate from his schedule and let his 25 year old "little" girl go play in the hay. Man was I lot stronger when I was 10. I'm still just as stubborn though and with the twine cutting into my fingers I hauled myself onto the top of the fortress and ran down the ridge, which evoked a few honks from the highway. Somehow I made it back down too, which is always much scarier.
Dramatic hills rising out of the plains was my next fascination, so up we went. Car pulled onto the grass, flip flops thrown on, and up the cactus covered hill we went with pronghorn antelope scattering before us. At the top we were rewarded with breathtaking views, which was very fortunate because we needed all the breath we could get. Butterflies feasting on nectar and a male pronghorn barking out a warning below us. On the way down we woke a startled coyote from his afternoon nap and he relunctantly made his way to the top of the hill and posed proudly on a large rock. With a lot of luck and some careful footwork I made it to the bottom with only a few holes in my feet. When we got back to the car one of the bikes was pulled off, but thankfully still locked to the other bike and the bike rack. Looks like we foiled someone.
I'm not a fan of interstates, so in Pueblo we left the big road and headed NW on Hwy 9. A brilliant choice on my part I think. We stopped off at Royal Gorge, but quickly decided that it was Colorado's version of Disney Land, complete with ques. The rest of the drive was spectacular as we gradually climbed into the mountains passing now isolated communities. Looking at a creek on the left I saw what looked like a beaver dam, but it couldn't be could it...could it? Only one way to find out, time to stop the car again. It was a beaver damn and lodge. No sign of the actual beaver, but loads of nawed logs. Nature really is incredible. Later we passed a heard of bison grazing on the plains. Over one large pass, past Dillon resevoir, and we found Laura in Silverthorne.
We just made it to the destination, but would I trade in the journey if someone offered me a private flight? NEVER! (Well maybe when I hit my 30s)
Missed Me
Ever look around and realize that you don't exist? Over the last three years I lost myself, and not in an exciting lost in the wilderness way...more the boring caught up in an endless cycle lost. Suddenly I looked around and realized that I missed me. Worse than that, I wasn't sure who me was anymore. Good news though, it turns out I'm still here.
The past couple of weeks I've realized how much fun it is to be alive and to do things that I love. dancing, spending time with girlfriends, night swim at Barton Springs, and traveling For the first time in a while I'm free. I'm not going crazy in a drinking all night and going home with any guy kind of way...I'm going crazy with working out, taking classes, and rediscovering that I enjoy life.
It's brilliant, simply brilliant, and for those who always told me that one day it would all be worth it and happiness was possible...thank you.
The past couple of weeks I've realized how much fun it is to be alive and to do things that I love. dancing, spending time with girlfriends, night swim at Barton Springs, and traveling For the first time in a while I'm free. I'm not going crazy in a drinking all night and going home with any guy kind of way...I'm going crazy with working out, taking classes, and rediscovering that I enjoy life.
It's brilliant, simply brilliant, and for those who always told me that one day it would all be worth it and happiness was possible...thank you.
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