On Friday I had the high honor of attend a 40th Wedding Anniversary and Vow Renewal. I have never been to such an event. Bill is a Mars Hill elder and Julis is his amazing wife who just shines with kindness and grace. As an example, at Mars Hill West Seattle, I make coffee. Who am I? There are 650 weekly attendees here, and I am just some random single man. Julis gave me an beautiful invitation, with my name hand-written, to their celebration. Who am I? They had PRIME RIB and Cabernet at the event! And I didn't have to pay! Who am I? I received the grace of seeing two people who love each other even more than they did on their wedding day 40 years later. They spoke of sex and an all-encompassing unity and total connection that has been nurtured by Jesus over the decades in front of 250 people with no shame and no embarrassment.
I mean I am a kid from a family where unity never existed and the marriage exploded not even 9 years in, looking at Bill and Julie and hearing they obvious love for one another, seeing their three amazing kids and their 10 grand kids, hearing their candid explanation of the horrors they have weathered, and the incredible legacy of the hundred plus couples who they have loved and served as marriage councilors and pre-marriage councilors; I think how can this be? How can a man love and woman and provide well for her and sacrificially serve her and be a good dad and be an exemplary yet imperfect man and an amazing grandfather and an elder in a church and a man who I deeply desire to emulate? Again and again they pointed to one answer, Jesus. They are God's grace to me.
Oh and Driscoll was there to honor them both.
Observations jotted down during the celebration:
-Julia's children rose up and called her blessed - just like Proverbs 31:28
-There is hope for me that my marriage rooted in Jesus can last for 40 years
-God please help me to eventually be a man like Bill
-He is such a strong manly man yet he is still broken by the honor of being Julia's husband
-She spoke well of him and showed him great respect
-When she had big strife with her family he protected her
-10 grandchildren and he will leave a legacy for all of them - just like Proverbs 13:22
-My response, tears and sadness (for my parents) and a yearning for something like that for my future
-40 years is hard but it can happen, in Jesus
-Josh, make sure you dance with your daughters at every wedding and every single special event with dancing - be like Aaron Easter
-Be okay with making an idiot of yourself for your wife, even in public
Showing posts with label Highlight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Highlight. Show all posts
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
Easter Setup @ Qwest Field
Uploaded after the Easter event...
On Friday April 22nd, I got to the stadium at 8am and joined up with team "Ops-Elite". (Say it out loud several times fast and you'll see why we changed the name to the "Blackhawks") My team was composed of 8 "trusted" Mars Hill interns who had to be able to operate independent of central control and direction.
We started by setting up all 5 Connect Desks for the Event. These desks were places where visitors could go and ask any questions, get free Bibles, get the Mars Hill Annual Report, and get one of these amazing handouts:
We were treated fantastically by Mars Hill. As an Mars Hill intern, I am unpaid and have given months to God's work with no expectation of any blessing. Yet we were lavished with food at Qwest. We had like 7 meals all provided. For those of you who don't know my love language is food. ("love language" is a reference to this book that Dr. Gary Chapman wrote a while ago that says that men and women feel loved in one of 5 ways: acts of service, quality time, physical touch, gifts, and words of affirmation)After completing the first tier of prep work, I jumped teams to the lighting team. I have worked for ERM a Seattle area event staffing service as a lighting tech/stage hand. So I knew how to do this job well. Here is what the stage looked like with our fancy lights up:
Here are some additional shots from Saturday as the work progressed:
(In the foreground you can see one of the 20 baptismals dwarfed by one of the two huge Led Jumbo-trons)
(Here are the faithful volunteers who put in thousands of hours to make this happen)
(From the 300 level North: On the top and bottom we see the Baptism tents. The far left tent is the men's changing tent, the center tent is the women's changing tent and the right tent is the prayer tent where people who want to get dunked will be prayed with and interviewed to see if they understand who Jesus is. The stage is flanked by two 35 foot jumbo-trons and a 40 foot stage where Pastor Mark will preach)
(From the Southwest 300 level of Qwest Field: Here you can see the 20 Baptismals that are pipping hot 100 deg F)
A funny story: Back in January when the Executive Elders of Mars Hill decided to do a massive Easter service they called up the people who organize events for Luis Palau (an evangelist), Greg Laurie (an evangelist), and others to see how to do baptisms in a mass-meeting like this (a perennial tradition at all Easter Services for Mars Hill). EVERY single organization said "Don't do baptisms!" its too crazy, you can't cope with the masses of people, keep things organized, and logistically keep up. They do them out in the parking lots all afternoon. Well guess what we are planning for...500 Baptisms in 40 minutes... That means that each Baptismal must accommodate 25 people in 40 minutes. That means 25 baptisms every 1.6 minutes must be completed for us to not run over time. Fou n'est-ce pas?
(Here is the Choir getting set for sound check on Saturday. Since the theme for the event is a happy sunny country fair the choir in their fancy robes act as the golden backdrop for the sermon)
Saturday, March 20, 2010
The Ending VLOG, Seattle
I should have posted this earlier. It is my VLOG immediately upon returning to Seattle with Joe. He accompanied me from Chicago to Seattle. I recorded this at the Hamilton Viewpoint in West Seattle; my little corner of the Emerald City (the name is not related to the Wizard of Oz, it is due to the perennial green beauty of the city it never gets depressingly dead-looking like all of the South, East, Southwest, and Midwest in Winter). We actually have evergreen trees and more rain than we know what to do with.
I love Seattle, the people and the place. Heck right now I'm sitting in the Bauhaus (the very best of Grunge Coffee shops, an old motorcycle repair shop) at the very core of Seattle in the Capitol Hill neighborhood.
Joe and I had this picture taken in downtown Seattle's Pioneer Square as soon as we finished the 3,000+ mile full conquest of I-90 (Boston to Seattle).
When I recorded this clip Seattle felt inclined to greet me with rain (of course my long lost city was so overcome with my valiant return that she needed to cry). Also in the VLOG I look pompous (I think I do), if I were you I'd chalk that up to me being punch-drunk with the joy of a distant goal reached, a goal that looked so far away and so uncertain, so as to not really be believed possible until actually seen, felt, and blogged about. One other note:
BEFORE WATCHING THIS TURN UP YOUR AUDIO SO YOU CAN HEAR ME!! (Sorry when I recorded it I thought it'd be louder)
Also this is not the last post about the road trip!! I still haven't told about DC, NYC, Boston, Harvard, Maine, Chicago, or the Northern Passage. Please stay tuned.
I love Seattle, the people and the place. Heck right now I'm sitting in the Bauhaus (the very best of Grunge Coffee shops, an old motorcycle repair shop) at the very core of Seattle in the Capitol Hill neighborhood.
Joe and I had this picture taken in downtown Seattle's Pioneer Square as soon as we finished the 3,000+ mile full conquest of I-90 (Boston to Seattle).
When I recorded this clip Seattle felt inclined to greet me with rain (of course my long lost city was so overcome with my valiant return that she needed to cry). Also in the VLOG I look pompous (I think I do), if I were you I'd chalk that up to me being punch-drunk with the joy of a distant goal reached, a goal that looked so far away and so uncertain, so as to not really be believed possible until actually seen, felt, and blogged about. One other note:
BEFORE WATCHING THIS TURN UP YOUR AUDIO SO YOU CAN HEAR ME!! (Sorry when I recorded it I thought it'd be louder)
Also this is not the last post about the road trip!! I still haven't told about DC, NYC, Boston, Harvard, Maine, Chicago, or the Northern Passage. Please stay tuned.
Wolves, small children, and insanity
I guess I'll post the trip stats even though this road trip is concluded.
Miles: 14704.8
Gallons Burned: 484.1
Caffeinated Drinks: 88
Gigabytes of Pictures: 33.5
I also feel compelled to admit one thing before I continue, I have been reading "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac for the first time so I may exhibit a certain violence/exuberance in my writing; you all have my apologies.
After catching up with my aunt and uncle and eating an amazing squash dish that kept getting better as I had it for leftovers, I slept poorly waking often to odd and unpleasant dreams.
I was determined to catch a little skiing on my road trip as it had been 20 months since my last alpine adventure involving rapid descent (rather different from my long and grueling hikes up Mt. Rainier to Camp Muir at 9,550 ft).
Zoom out to see just how awesome it really is:
View Larger Map
Anyhow I set out back up I-26 toward the Appalachian "Mountains" (Honestly these hills are often given far too much credit. They are nice for a Sunday drive but surely do not bear the one critical element that makes a mountain a mountain, namely the tendency to create widows). I await Jen or Alicia's rebutal, you see they have done something like 1,500 miles of the long Appalachian trail and they can tell of the extreme exertion required to defeat such terrain. Check out their cool story, it's the last link in my "Websites!" section.
Oh right! So I drove north but due to my lack of intel, I didn't know exactly where to go, so despite "the" stereotype I stopped and asked for directions to Sugarloaf Mountain. The oldtimer at the gas station looked at me confused. He asked if I wanted directions to skiing. I answered in the affermative, he relaxed as said why not go up to the Wolf? "It's only 15 minutes away."
Excited to be so close to powder I thanked the man and left with after purchasing a sandwich for later.
Much later I realized that Sugarloaf is actually the best skiing in Maine, not North Carolina.
So I valiantly drove north up to the Wolf. I drove a slow road into the mountains that dead ended in a resort community, back tracking I found my error and returned to the correct path. I skidded into the parking lot of a ski rental shop my parking was as follows (Notice the precision of my diagram):
The whole lot was covered in about 6 inches of snow, so I just rammed the car into the lot and let her be where she stopped. I grabbed some shorter skis (its been a little while so cut me some slack).
I managed to push my Jolly Green out of the lot with only 15 minutes work.
Once at the lifts, I paid for the really cheap lift tickets and hopped up the mountain on their one working chair lift. On my second lift ride I met a middle aged man on the lift who was an executive for some southeastern grocery store; then I met a pair of giggling stoners. The next ride was taken alone as were the next three rides.
After getting my snow legs back, I felt like a break was called for. I pulled over here and unpacked the back pack that Uncle Steve let me borrow:
I ate a fine roast beef sandwich, two Hershey bars, two wheat and cheese cracker packs, a quart of water, and some raisins all while enjoying the view.
After the next run, I joined a solo skier who was in line for the lift. His name was Tristan. He came out to ski with his mom, but she didn't want to ski so this 10 year old kid was braving the slopes alone even though this was only his second time skiing. I felt a kinship with this kid; we in our own unique ways were loners experiencing the purest form of solitude: being alone in a crowd (okay second purest form of solitude, the purest being locked away in your car for 12,404 miles to wrestle with your true self, equivalent to two weeks of solitary confinement in prison). So I hung out with Tristan. He was a great kid. I would be proud of my son if he was half the young man Tristan is at the same age. He held himself well and was fearless, he took on the steepest slopes with a thirst for speed paralleled only by my own. He wanted to push the envelope on his ability on skis and he visibly improved with each run. I never had a little brother (that I grew up with), but Tristan would be awesome as a little bro. With his mother's permission here is Tristan:
After I had sharpened my ski skills, I filmed a long clip of me skiing down from the top of Wolf Mountain to the bottom. It is the last clip in this little video project I made from my time on Wolf Mountain. Feel free to leave feedback(much love to the Go! Team who provided the music):
Next time I'll share more from Asheville...
Miles: 14704.8
Gallons Burned: 484.1
Caffeinated Drinks: 88
Gigabytes of Pictures: 33.5
I also feel compelled to admit one thing before I continue, I have been reading "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac for the first time so I may exhibit a certain violence/exuberance in my writing; you all have my apologies.
After catching up with my aunt and uncle and eating an amazing squash dish that kept getting better as I had it for leftovers, I slept poorly waking often to odd and unpleasant dreams.
I was determined to catch a little skiing on my road trip as it had been 20 months since my last alpine adventure involving rapid descent (rather different from my long and grueling hikes up Mt. Rainier to Camp Muir at 9,550 ft).
Zoom out to see just how awesome it really is:
View Larger Map
Anyhow I set out back up I-26 toward the Appalachian "Mountains" (Honestly these hills are often given far too much credit. They are nice for a Sunday drive but surely do not bear the one critical element that makes a mountain a mountain, namely the tendency to create widows). I await Jen or Alicia's rebutal, you see they have done something like 1,500 miles of the long Appalachian trail and they can tell of the extreme exertion required to defeat such terrain. Check out their cool story, it's the last link in my "Websites!" section.
Oh right! So I drove north but due to my lack of intel, I didn't know exactly where to go, so despite "the" stereotype I stopped and asked for directions to Sugarloaf Mountain. The oldtimer at the gas station looked at me confused. He asked if I wanted directions to skiing. I answered in the affermative, he relaxed as said why not go up to the Wolf? "It's only 15 minutes away."
Excited to be so close to powder I thanked the man and left with after purchasing a sandwich for later.
Much later I realized that Sugarloaf is actually the best skiing in Maine, not North Carolina.
So I valiantly drove north up to the Wolf. I drove a slow road into the mountains that dead ended in a resort community, back tracking I found my error and returned to the correct path. I skidded into the parking lot of a ski rental shop my parking was as follows (Notice the precision of my diagram):
The whole lot was covered in about 6 inches of snow, so I just rammed the car into the lot and let her be where she stopped. I grabbed some shorter skis (its been a little while so cut me some slack).
I managed to push my Jolly Green out of the lot with only 15 minutes work.
Once at the lifts, I paid for the really cheap lift tickets and hopped up the mountain on their one working chair lift. On my second lift ride I met a middle aged man on the lift who was an executive for some southeastern grocery store; then I met a pair of giggling stoners. The next ride was taken alone as were the next three rides.
After getting my snow legs back, I felt like a break was called for. I pulled over here and unpacked the back pack that Uncle Steve let me borrow:
I ate a fine roast beef sandwich, two Hershey bars, two wheat and cheese cracker packs, a quart of water, and some raisins all while enjoying the view.
After the next run, I joined a solo skier who was in line for the lift. His name was Tristan. He came out to ski with his mom, but she didn't want to ski so this 10 year old kid was braving the slopes alone even though this was only his second time skiing. I felt a kinship with this kid; we in our own unique ways were loners experiencing the purest form of solitude: being alone in a crowd (okay second purest form of solitude, the purest being locked away in your car for 12,404 miles to wrestle with your true self, equivalent to two weeks of solitary confinement in prison). So I hung out with Tristan. He was a great kid. I would be proud of my son if he was half the young man Tristan is at the same age. He held himself well and was fearless, he took on the steepest slopes with a thirst for speed paralleled only by my own. He wanted to push the envelope on his ability on skis and he visibly improved with each run. I never had a little brother (that I grew up with), but Tristan would be awesome as a little bro. With his mother's permission here is Tristan:
After I had sharpened my ski skills, I filmed a long clip of me skiing down from the top of Wolf Mountain to the bottom. It is the last clip in this little video project I made from my time on Wolf Mountain. Feel free to leave feedback(much love to the Go! Team who provided the music):
Next time I'll share more from Asheville...
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
For-Everglades
Miles: 8197.4
Gallons Burned: 279.3
Caffeinated Drinks: 46
Gigabytes of Pictures: 18.2
This Latte is great here at Fido in Nashville. Josh and I enjoyed the Opryland Hotel & Resort and the Nashville Parthenon...Yes it exists. I'll post pictures when I get caught up in posting. Until then let's go back to the Everglades.
At a place like to the Everglades, biodiversity is the most amazing thing...No. Actually the sun is. In Seattle we get 8 months of gray cloudy drizzle 2.5 months of cool partly cloudy Fall and 1.5 months of Sun. The lack of sun makes Seattle known for its high use of anti-depressants and caffeine. So as the typical moody Seattle guy, the Sun in Florida's southern extremes is amazing.
Fist I'd like to talk about the Fauna.
Did you know there is an American Crocodile? (Yeah Alicia and Jen you know but how about other people?) I had no idea. Turns out there are between 1600-2000 adult Crocs in Florida and the Everglades is the only place on Earth where Crocs and Gators coexist. They can be clearly differentiated using three basic characteristics:
1 - snout shape - The Crocs' snout is narrower than the Gators'
2 - teeth - the Crocs' teeth upper and lower teeth are always visible, whereas only the Gators' upper teeth are visible
3 - color - The Gator is darker than the Croc
This little guy was hot so he had his mouth open to cool down. He and his bigger friend looked chill, so I walked up (ready to sprint away if he/she so much as flinched) and took this:
This little guy was next to the Crocs above:
Just like in Seattle this "Laughing Gull" is fearless and begs shamelessly for food:
I was hiking toward Snake Bight when I ducked off-trail and wandered for a 100 yards until I ran across this Snowy Egret and his with reflection.
While on the Bight path I found the secret spider that bit Peter Parker.
At Snake Bight there were no snakes but there were these neuts (or non-specific lizards). This littl eguy is about 3 inches long:
Here we see a Great Egret, notice the distinctive beak that differentiates it from the Snowy Egret. he was sunning himself, so I used my old trick to get close to him so I could get this shot. Oh what's my trick? Hmm... I don't want to tell you otherwise you tell a cat or bird and they won't fall for it anmore.
My only shot of Manatees, you really need a boat to see them well and Jolly Green wouldn't stand for the injustice of having to wear that hat (cars with kayaks on top look like the "cool" kids with their fancy hats).
I made a friend! "Tony", an adolescent Brown Pelican, hung out with me for 45 minutes when I wrote those blog posts from Flamingo Bay. Again the trick worked!
As I stalked an egret to get a great shot, I saw this little fellow.
The rare and illusive "Bowen".
Moving on to the glade part of the Glades
As a registered "amateur, amateur botanist" I feel qualified to use the Latin classification of genus and species when referring to the flower below: Prettius Flowerus
See how dense the undergrowth and Mangroves gets.
Again this "amateur, amateur botanist" will use my massive knowledge of plants to classify this little fellow: the Parasitic Aloe. Actually my mycologist friend Josh informed me it is a Bromeliad.
Josh couldn't ID this one so I'll call it a Lilly.
Yeah, they have palm trees everwhere.
I really enjoyed the Everglades and the whole experience of seeing this sub-tropical nirvana.
Next time the Keys...
Gallons Burned: 279.3
Caffeinated Drinks: 46
Gigabytes of Pictures: 18.2
This Latte is great here at Fido in Nashville. Josh and I enjoyed the Opryland Hotel & Resort and the Nashville Parthenon...Yes it exists. I'll post pictures when I get caught up in posting. Until then let's go back to the Everglades.
At a place like to the Everglades, biodiversity is the most amazing thing...No. Actually the sun is. In Seattle we get 8 months of gray cloudy drizzle 2.5 months of cool partly cloudy Fall and 1.5 months of Sun. The lack of sun makes Seattle known for its high use of anti-depressants and caffeine. So as the typical moody Seattle guy, the Sun in Florida's southern extremes is amazing.
Fist I'd like to talk about the Fauna.
Did you know there is an American Crocodile? (Yeah Alicia and Jen you know but how about other people?) I had no idea. Turns out there are between 1600-2000 adult Crocs in Florida and the Everglades is the only place on Earth where Crocs and Gators coexist. They can be clearly differentiated using three basic characteristics:
1 - snout shape - The Crocs' snout is narrower than the Gators'
2 - teeth - the Crocs' teeth upper and lower teeth are always visible, whereas only the Gators' upper teeth are visible
3 - color - The Gator is darker than the Croc
This little guy was hot so he had his mouth open to cool down. He and his bigger friend looked chill, so I walked up (ready to sprint away if he/she so much as flinched) and took this:
This little guy was next to the Crocs above:
Just like in Seattle this "Laughing Gull" is fearless and begs shamelessly for food:
I was hiking toward Snake Bight when I ducked off-trail and wandered for a 100 yards until I ran across this Snowy Egret and his with reflection.
While on the Bight path I found the secret spider that bit Peter Parker.
At Snake Bight there were no snakes but there were these neuts (or non-specific lizards). This littl eguy is about 3 inches long:
Here we see a Great Egret, notice the distinctive beak that differentiates it from the Snowy Egret. he was sunning himself, so I used my old trick to get close to him so I could get this shot. Oh what's my trick? Hmm... I don't want to tell you otherwise you tell a cat or bird and they won't fall for it anmore.
My only shot of Manatees, you really need a boat to see them well and Jolly Green wouldn't stand for the injustice of having to wear that hat (cars with kayaks on top look like the "cool" kids with their fancy hats).
I made a friend! "Tony", an adolescent Brown Pelican, hung out with me for 45 minutes when I wrote those blog posts from Flamingo Bay. Again the trick worked!
As I stalked an egret to get a great shot, I saw this little fellow.
The rare and illusive "Bowen".
Moving on to the glade part of the Glades
As a registered "amateur, amateur botanist" I feel qualified to use the Latin classification of genus and species when referring to the flower below: Prettius Flowerus
See how dense the undergrowth and Mangroves gets.
Again this "amateur, amateur botanist" will use my massive knowledge of plants to classify this little fellow: the Parasitic Aloe. Actually my mycologist friend Josh informed me it is a Bromeliad.
Josh couldn't ID this one so I'll call it a Lilly.
Yeah, they have palm trees everwhere.
I really enjoyed the Everglades and the whole experience of seeing this sub-tropical nirvana.
Next time the Keys...
Friday, February 12, 2010
Super Saints Win
Miles: 6810.4
Gallons Burned: 231.8
Caffeinated Drinks: 37
Still here on the pier in Flamingo Bay.
Remember how the Saints beat the Colts on that most holy of American days, Superbowl Sunday? (Congrats Andrew, you were right the heart of those Saints beat the precision of Manning) I really don't. There were some amazing passes, that fateful interception...something about the Who. My point is that I don't really remember the game, because I was with some neat people.
The day after my harrowing beach adventure, my official plan was to wake up at noon, eat some steak, and watch Mad Max, Mad Max 2: the Road Warrior, and Mad Max 3: Beyond Thunderdome. I accomplished my first two goals and even managed to start watching Mad Max when Cheryl and Susan came over to my car.
When I looked up and saw two people approaching I thought, "Oh no. What did I do wrong? Did they find out about my bonfire? Am I breaking some obscure rule about sleeping in my car? Oh no there getting closer!"
Did I mention my strong bent toward antisocialism...(I like Rand but I'm not talking about that kind of socialism right now). Anyways, these two kind and gracious beyond gracious women invited me over to a fancy RV to watch the Superbowl with them. I was so taken aback that I blurted something out then as they asked what I had just said, I said, "Let me get my shoes on." They didn't understand what I had said until I actually used intelligible words. Being a 23 year old guy from Seattle I'm used to being ignored, silently judged, sworn at, receiving the finger, and the like by complete strangers. So you might imagine what it is like to receive grace, mercy, kindness, respect, even...dare I say it...FOOD from strangers. Not just strangers but strangers who are different. Bill & Antje, Jack & Cheryl, and Brad & Susan are all older individuals who are either retired or semi-retired.
Suppose you see some strange kid with Washington State plates in a Florida State Park who has slept in his car the one day you knew he existed. Would you go out of your way to engage him (taking the risk of rudeness, rejection, even possibly danger)? How about inviting him into your home (the RV is Brad and Susan's full-time home)? I'd have a hard time doing that. But that's because I am not as nice as these six wonderful individuals. I'd like to publicly thank all six of you for your generosity and overwhelming hospitality!
I feel embarrassed that I couldn't even offer you any of my food (raw steaks, a block of cheese, and some Cheez-its don't really work).
We talked all through the game and shared stories on every topic from "special" beaches to a 170 mile-an-hour car ride that Bill once took. I enjoyed myself immensely and really treasure the experience. Unfortunately, I forgot to take a picture of them, but if you want to see them just close your eyes and imagine the 6 kindest people who have ever graced you in your time under the sun.
Feel free to leave a comment telling a story about how people have been kind to you.
Gallons Burned: 231.8
Caffeinated Drinks: 37
Still here on the pier in Flamingo Bay.
Remember how the Saints beat the Colts on that most holy of American days, Superbowl Sunday? (Congrats Andrew, you were right the heart of those Saints beat the precision of Manning) I really don't. There were some amazing passes, that fateful interception...something about the Who. My point is that I don't really remember the game, because I was with some neat people.
The day after my harrowing beach adventure, my official plan was to wake up at noon, eat some steak, and watch Mad Max, Mad Max 2: the Road Warrior, and Mad Max 3: Beyond Thunderdome. I accomplished my first two goals and even managed to start watching Mad Max when Cheryl and Susan came over to my car.
When I looked up and saw two people approaching I thought, "Oh no. What did I do wrong? Did they find out about my bonfire? Am I breaking some obscure rule about sleeping in my car? Oh no there getting closer!"
Did I mention my strong bent toward antisocialism...(I like Rand but I'm not talking about that kind of socialism right now). Anyways, these two kind and gracious beyond gracious women invited me over to a fancy RV to watch the Superbowl with them. I was so taken aback that I blurted something out then as they asked what I had just said, I said, "Let me get my shoes on." They didn't understand what I had said until I actually used intelligible words. Being a 23 year old guy from Seattle I'm used to being ignored, silently judged, sworn at, receiving the finger, and the like by complete strangers. So you might imagine what it is like to receive grace, mercy, kindness, respect, even...dare I say it...FOOD from strangers. Not just strangers but strangers who are different. Bill & Antje, Jack & Cheryl, and Brad & Susan are all older individuals who are either retired or semi-retired.
Suppose you see some strange kid with Washington State plates in a Florida State Park who has slept in his car the one day you knew he existed. Would you go out of your way to engage him (taking the risk of rudeness, rejection, even possibly danger)? How about inviting him into your home (the RV is Brad and Susan's full-time home)? I'd have a hard time doing that. But that's because I am not as nice as these six wonderful individuals. I'd like to publicly thank all six of you for your generosity and overwhelming hospitality!
I feel embarrassed that I couldn't even offer you any of my food (raw steaks, a block of cheese, and some Cheez-its don't really work).
We talked all through the game and shared stories on every topic from "special" beaches to a 170 mile-an-hour car ride that Bill once took. I enjoyed myself immensely and really treasure the experience. Unfortunately, I forgot to take a picture of them, but if you want to see them just close your eyes and imagine the 6 kindest people who have ever graced you in your time under the sun.
Feel free to leave a comment telling a story about how people have been kind to you.
Monday, February 1, 2010
After Galveston's Thunder
Miles: 5418.0
Gallons Burned: 188.6
Caffeinated Drinks: 35
I really am enjoying this meal at Pere Antoine's, so I thought I'd continue to blog.
However First I must discuss the great food I am enjoying:
I ordered and am now enjoying the New Orleans Sampler:
Seafood Jambalaya - rich and smoky with fantastic sausage and big shrimp
Red Beans and Rice - a New Orleans classic with a surprisingly multifaceted flavor.
Shrimp Creole - Sweet with a strong suggestion of lemon
Gumbo fairly plain, so I added some Tabasco (having just been at the factory I felt obligated)
Mango Margarita (Sauza Gold, Cruzan Mango, Grand Marnier, and sweet and Sour mix) - Grand Marnier's citrus comes through first, then there is a mid palate bite of tequila and finally a smooth finish of fruit (vaguely mango)
Bread Pudding - Smells of wonderful cinnamon, the frosting is not frosting but rather a sweet cream sauce, the chunks of orange are excellent as are those of kiwi.
The meal was fairly priced and excellent with a pleasant yet empty ambiance.
While I am savoring the last of my bread pudding, how about I tell you the story of Galveston?
In Galveston's Gray Thunder both of my sleeping bags, my pillow, and my boots were soaked. And my tent (containing all the aforementioned and a cylinder of propane and my cook stove) was overturned and 25 feet from where I left it. In frustration and (I'll admit it!) more than a little unrighteous anger, I disassembled everything and shoved it into garbage bags.
Right now all is laying out to dry on a bench back at the campsite at Bayou Segnette State Park.
After leaving Galveston, I drove north toward Nacogdoches TX where my awesome cousin Shelby attends Steve Austin University. But before I got there I ran into this along the freeway:
My exact 1.1 second mental analysis was as follows "Knife shop...hmm, wait along the highway!? I'm in Texas...hmm. Dude I HAVE to stop and check this out." So I slowed dangerously from 67mph to 0 on the gravel shoulder of the highway. I will neither conform or deny the alleged purchase of anything in said establishment. Only if you really know me (and Lili knows what I would do in a Texas highway knife store) can you say if I bought anything (You already know I am "cheap").
So after that, I made it up to Nacogdoches and took Shelby out to some Chinese food. I ate their version of Singapore Fried Noodles, LAME. But the time was well spent with my cousin. Me, being an awkward conversationalist, tried not to be too weird, but only Shelby can speak to that. I hadn't seen her in over 10 years and we traded stories of high school experience and unusual friends.
After biding her goodnight, I looked at the clock and saw it was only 6:40pm. I decided to push it a little and run for Louisiana. Kinda bad idea. I made the 300 miles in 7 hours (including the time I spent in a closed McDonalds parking lot stealing WiFi to find a place to stay for the night).
As I drove East on I-10 I saw a blessed sign "Welcome Center Next right, 24 hour security provided". Wow, I was so excited. I slept in their parking lot.
As an aside, sleep is important (in case you never guessed). I remember when I had a particularly terrible period of insomnia, 84 hours without sleep. And I drove 5 hours home on the tail-end of the sleep-cation. During the Joshua Tree and "Pass" in-car nights, I slept sitting up in the car seat. The result was periods of no more than 1 hour of sleep and a lot of "clock watching". That night I used every ounce of my B.S. and M.A. degrees and all the accumulated knowledge of my 23 years on Earth to notice: if I sleep sideways (across both front seats) in the car, I can actually be comfortable! It totally worked!
Well I guess that wasn't an aside. More like a conclusion. Next time Avery Island.
Gallons Burned: 188.6
Caffeinated Drinks: 35
I really am enjoying this meal at Pere Antoine's, so I thought I'd continue to blog.
However First I must discuss the great food I am enjoying:
I ordered and am now enjoying the New Orleans Sampler:
Seafood Jambalaya - rich and smoky with fantastic sausage and big shrimp
Red Beans and Rice - a New Orleans classic with a surprisingly multifaceted flavor.
Shrimp Creole - Sweet with a strong suggestion of lemon
Gumbo fairly plain, so I added some Tabasco (having just been at the factory I felt obligated)
Mango Margarita (Sauza Gold, Cruzan Mango, Grand Marnier, and sweet and Sour mix) - Grand Marnier's citrus comes through first, then there is a mid palate bite of tequila and finally a smooth finish of fruit (vaguely mango)
Bread Pudding - Smells of wonderful cinnamon, the frosting is not frosting but rather a sweet cream sauce, the chunks of orange are excellent as are those of kiwi.
The meal was fairly priced and excellent with a pleasant yet empty ambiance.
While I am savoring the last of my bread pudding, how about I tell you the story of Galveston?
In Galveston's Gray Thunder both of my sleeping bags, my pillow, and my boots were soaked. And my tent (containing all the aforementioned and a cylinder of propane and my cook stove) was overturned and 25 feet from where I left it. In frustration and (I'll admit it!) more than a little unrighteous anger, I disassembled everything and shoved it into garbage bags.
Right now all is laying out to dry on a bench back at the campsite at Bayou Segnette State Park.
After leaving Galveston, I drove north toward Nacogdoches TX where my awesome cousin Shelby attends Steve Austin University. But before I got there I ran into this along the freeway:
My exact 1.1 second mental analysis was as follows "Knife shop...hmm, wait along the highway!? I'm in Texas...hmm. Dude I HAVE to stop and check this out." So I slowed dangerously from 67mph to 0 on the gravel shoulder of the highway. I will neither conform or deny the alleged purchase of anything in said establishment. Only if you really know me (and Lili knows what I would do in a Texas highway knife store) can you say if I bought anything (You already know I am "cheap").
So after that, I made it up to Nacogdoches and took Shelby out to some Chinese food. I ate their version of Singapore Fried Noodles, LAME. But the time was well spent with my cousin. Me, being an awkward conversationalist, tried not to be too weird, but only Shelby can speak to that. I hadn't seen her in over 10 years and we traded stories of high school experience and unusual friends.
After biding her goodnight, I looked at the clock and saw it was only 6:40pm. I decided to push it a little and run for Louisiana. Kinda bad idea. I made the 300 miles in 7 hours (including the time I spent in a closed McDonalds parking lot stealing WiFi to find a place to stay for the night).
As I drove East on I-10 I saw a blessed sign "Welcome Center Next right, 24 hour security provided". Wow, I was so excited. I slept in their parking lot.
As an aside, sleep is important (in case you never guessed). I remember when I had a particularly terrible period of insomnia, 84 hours without sleep. And I drove 5 hours home on the tail-end of the sleep-cation. During the Joshua Tree and "Pass" in-car nights, I slept sitting up in the car seat. The result was periods of no more than 1 hour of sleep and a lot of "clock watching". That night I used every ounce of my B.S. and M.A. degrees and all the accumulated knowledge of my 23 years on Earth to notice: if I sleep sideways (across both front seats) in the car, I can actually be comfortable! It totally worked!
Well I guess that wasn't an aside. More like a conclusion. Next time Avery Island.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Long days and Not-so-Plesant Nights
Miles: 4134.2
Gallons Burned: 135.1
Caffeinated Drinks: 29
I'm here in San Antonio TX with Roger and CJ and their great kids Joshua and Caleb.
A quick note, I have been nursing a nagging injury to my right leg for 4 days now. My Soleus Muscle in my right calf has been hurting so if you guys could keep me in your thoughts and prayers, I'd be hugely appreciative. Julio thanks for the bottle of aspirin! Roger gave me some IcyHot, and if that doesn't work, I'll get some medical advice.
So now my latest brush with excitement...
I awoke to about 6 inches of fresh snow my last morning in Joshua Tree NP and this hungry coyote.
My original trip plan included a stop near Wilhoit AZ with Beverly and Jim but many towns like Wenden AZ were buried under water and mud. So under the wise council of Beverly I chose to not head to Wilhoit but rather detour South. The goal was to avoid all the Snow and flooding; well at least I avoided the flooding. Unfortunately I relied on my GPS unit to calculate a detour. It was less than successful. The two day trip:
View Stuck on a Mountian Pass 1/22/10 in a larger map
The road to Phoenix was mildly ominous as the side of I-10 was lined with 30 foot trees that had been pulled up by the roots. Once in Phoenix, the only hassle was some light traffic. The GPS told me to take SR-60 East to Show Low AZ. It did not mention the mountain passes. In case you wondered, the name of that stretch of road is "the Superstitious Highway".
I made it over a low pass and entered the sunny town of Miami AZ only problem was it was actually snowing. Snowing quite heavily. The roads were bare and wet inspiring confidence in my choice to go on, as daylight faded to black and the longest night of my life began.
Um so a typical author or poster...No scratch that, let's go with "spammer" would follow this ominous sentence with a tale of terror, suspense, excitement, or inspiration. I will instead show you a seasonally appropriate captioned picture of a silly cat!
Source.
Back to the story, I continued east passing several signs warning "Drive with caution Extreme Winter Conditions". I watched my GPS's altimeter tick from 3,000 feet to 5,000 feet in the course of 15 minutes as the visibility halved and then halved again. I passed two State Troopers assisting a U-Haul in the ditch, their lights fading in the rear-view mirror like memories of daylight.
At this point, I was concerned. My speed was a cautious 20 MPH, my horizon only 40 yards, and my tank down to 5 gallons. Four-wheel drive trucks and SUVs passed doing 50 and I shook my head in envy and disgust. I pressed on as a Snow plow blazed a short-lived trail of good traction for oncoming vehicles. I thought, "The plows are out how bad could it be?"
As my altimeter reached 5,300 I noticed the road pitch tenuously downward. The Colorado River canyon switchbacks began. By the second sharp bend my visibility was at 100 yards and the snow was a mere dusting with none on the road. The time was 8:40pm.
At the bottom of the canyon, the river roared so loudly it was clearly audible over the engine and Decemberists. At 3,200 feet I felt exultant my GPS showed a straight road ahead and the snow had completely stopped. I said a silent prayer of thanks and drove past an RV stopped in a pullout. I immediately noticed that the road slopped upward. The road was soon covered with snow and visibility was down to 20 yards. I slowed my progress to a crawl. I decided to slip into a pull off and wait for a snow plow to wander by so I could drive behind him. I got stuck. The wheels spun to no avail and I was left immobilized in the dark. Right then, the snow plow roared by. Twenty minutes of effort yielded 10 feet of progress toward the road, soaked boots, soaked gloves, and soaked pants. Then an SUV drove by. It stopped (probably to see the spectacle of the stupid guy from Washington "playing" in the snow). Three guys jumped out and helped me get unstuck. In the twenty minutes that had passed the snow plow's trail was filled with 4 fresh inches of snow. So I decided that since things weren't getting better, I was going back the way I came over the mountain pass I had already crossed. On my way back everything looked different. The previously bare road was caked in 5 new inches of snow, the RV was frosted and the formerly clear switchbacks were now practically a bobsled run. Another snow plow must have come through recently because the oncoming lane looked less snow covered than my lane, so I used it. My knuckles were not figuratively white as I climbed the perilous road and turned up the music to hide the sound of my heart in my ears. I clung to the steering wheel like a drowning man would a life saver; my eyes intent on the blind corners searching for oncoming headlights. I stopped next to a jack knifed tractor-trailer and asked the driver if he was okay. He was, and asked if I had any cell coverage. I didn't, so I drove on. There was so much snow. Falling, swirling, waiting for me like quicksand.
On a fresh switchback, I felt the right side of the car lose traction, so I counter-steered left, but then the left side lost purchase too. I went into a slow 90 degree spin as the car's momentum drove uphill. I went sideways, headlights to the rocky mountain wall. instead of breaking I tapped the accelerator and the left front tire caught traction forcing the car into a sharp 180 degree counter-spin. The windshield's view went from a charming view of a rocky facade to the empty space of the canyon. As the car's momentum carried it uphill, I saw the cliff's edge approach. I tapped the brakes with religious fervor not thinking, not feeling, yet understanding. I stopped 12 inches from the edge.
I am sideways on a steep, snow-covered, two lane road, at night, but not dead.
I won't tell you how I got the car pointed down hill, but I did. After failing to escape my white prison I headed down to where I had seen the RV to wait things out.
I slept (no sleep actually occurred I am just using the euphemism) in my car for the fourth consecutive night, ate an MRE, and got very cold (using the car's heater was out because I needed to conserve gas). The trooper who showed up after midnight said that it was best for me to stay put, but warned that the snow was not stopping until 8pm the next night. Fortunately he was wrong. My mind drifted as I tried to force sleep but, none was possible. I felt on edge, being cut off in the dark. My predicament (or maybe the hydrogen gas from the MRE heater) somehow made my meal hilarious, so I took this pic of a MRE's label: "Don't eat the chemical heater?!"
The next morning I manned-up and got out of that beautiful but dangerous canyon:
I learned that I really thrive in adventure even if cliffs and sudden death is involved. I wonder how I would fare in a real catastrophe (like Haiti) not just an uncomfortable night on the road.
Gallons Burned: 135.1
Caffeinated Drinks: 29
I'm here in San Antonio TX with Roger and CJ and their great kids Joshua and Caleb.
A quick note, I have been nursing a nagging injury to my right leg for 4 days now. My Soleus Muscle in my right calf has been hurting so if you guys could keep me in your thoughts and prayers, I'd be hugely appreciative. Julio thanks for the bottle of aspirin! Roger gave me some IcyHot, and if that doesn't work, I'll get some medical advice.
So now my latest brush with excitement...
I awoke to about 6 inches of fresh snow my last morning in Joshua Tree NP and this hungry coyote.
My original trip plan included a stop near Wilhoit AZ with Beverly and Jim but many towns like Wenden AZ were buried under water and mud. So under the wise council of Beverly I chose to not head to Wilhoit but rather detour South. The goal was to avoid all the Snow and flooding; well at least I avoided the flooding. Unfortunately I relied on my GPS unit to calculate a detour. It was less than successful. The two day trip:
View Stuck on a Mountian Pass 1/22/10 in a larger map
The road to Phoenix was mildly ominous as the side of I-10 was lined with 30 foot trees that had been pulled up by the roots. Once in Phoenix, the only hassle was some light traffic. The GPS told me to take SR-60 East to Show Low AZ. It did not mention the mountain passes. In case you wondered, the name of that stretch of road is "the Superstitious Highway".
I made it over a low pass and entered the sunny town of Miami AZ only problem was it was actually snowing. Snowing quite heavily. The roads were bare and wet inspiring confidence in my choice to go on, as daylight faded to black and the longest night of my life began.
Um so a typical author or poster...No scratch that, let's go with "spammer" would follow this ominous sentence with a tale of terror, suspense, excitement, or inspiration. I will instead show you a seasonally appropriate captioned picture of a silly cat!
Source.
Back to the story, I continued east passing several signs warning "Drive with caution Extreme Winter Conditions". I watched my GPS's altimeter tick from 3,000 feet to 5,000 feet in the course of 15 minutes as the visibility halved and then halved again. I passed two State Troopers assisting a U-Haul in the ditch, their lights fading in the rear-view mirror like memories of daylight.
At this point, I was concerned. My speed was a cautious 20 MPH, my horizon only 40 yards, and my tank down to 5 gallons. Four-wheel drive trucks and SUVs passed doing 50 and I shook my head in envy and disgust. I pressed on as a Snow plow blazed a short-lived trail of good traction for oncoming vehicles. I thought, "The plows are out how bad could it be?"
As my altimeter reached 5,300 I noticed the road pitch tenuously downward. The Colorado River canyon switchbacks began. By the second sharp bend my visibility was at 100 yards and the snow was a mere dusting with none on the road. The time was 8:40pm.
At the bottom of the canyon, the river roared so loudly it was clearly audible over the engine and Decemberists. At 3,200 feet I felt exultant my GPS showed a straight road ahead and the snow had completely stopped. I said a silent prayer of thanks and drove past an RV stopped in a pullout. I immediately noticed that the road slopped upward. The road was soon covered with snow and visibility was down to 20 yards. I slowed my progress to a crawl. I decided to slip into a pull off and wait for a snow plow to wander by so I could drive behind him. I got stuck. The wheels spun to no avail and I was left immobilized in the dark. Right then, the snow plow roared by. Twenty minutes of effort yielded 10 feet of progress toward the road, soaked boots, soaked gloves, and soaked pants. Then an SUV drove by. It stopped (probably to see the spectacle of the stupid guy from Washington "playing" in the snow). Three guys jumped out and helped me get unstuck. In the twenty minutes that had passed the snow plow's trail was filled with 4 fresh inches of snow. So I decided that since things weren't getting better, I was going back the way I came over the mountain pass I had already crossed. On my way back everything looked different. The previously bare road was caked in 5 new inches of snow, the RV was frosted and the formerly clear switchbacks were now practically a bobsled run. Another snow plow must have come through recently because the oncoming lane looked less snow covered than my lane, so I used it. My knuckles were not figuratively white as I climbed the perilous road and turned up the music to hide the sound of my heart in my ears. I clung to the steering wheel like a drowning man would a life saver; my eyes intent on the blind corners searching for oncoming headlights. I stopped next to a jack knifed tractor-trailer and asked the driver if he was okay. He was, and asked if I had any cell coverage. I didn't, so I drove on. There was so much snow. Falling, swirling, waiting for me like quicksand.
On a fresh switchback, I felt the right side of the car lose traction, so I counter-steered left, but then the left side lost purchase too. I went into a slow 90 degree spin as the car's momentum drove uphill. I went sideways, headlights to the rocky mountain wall. instead of breaking I tapped the accelerator and the left front tire caught traction forcing the car into a sharp 180 degree counter-spin. The windshield's view went from a charming view of a rocky facade to the empty space of the canyon. As the car's momentum carried it uphill, I saw the cliff's edge approach. I tapped the brakes with religious fervor not thinking, not feeling, yet understanding. I stopped 12 inches from the edge.
I am sideways on a steep, snow-covered, two lane road, at night, but not dead.
I won't tell you how I got the car pointed down hill, but I did. After failing to escape my white prison I headed down to where I had seen the RV to wait things out.
I slept (no sleep actually occurred I am just using the euphemism) in my car for the fourth consecutive night, ate an MRE, and got very cold (using the car's heater was out because I needed to conserve gas). The trooper who showed up after midnight said that it was best for me to stay put, but warned that the snow was not stopping until 8pm the next night. Fortunately he was wrong. My mind drifted as I tried to force sleep but, none was possible. I felt on edge, being cut off in the dark. My predicament (or maybe the hydrogen gas from the MRE heater) somehow made my meal hilarious, so I took this pic of a MRE's label: "Don't eat the chemical heater?!"
The next morning I manned-up and got out of that beautiful but dangerous canyon:
I learned that I really thrive in adventure even if cliffs and sudden death is involved. I wonder how I would fare in a real catastrophe (like Haiti) not just an uncomfortable night on the road.
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