The last two days have been typical Colorado summer days; sunny, blue skies, warm (but not too warm), and gorgeous sunsets. It’s like summer started yesterday. Both days, after work, I went for a mountain bike ride. Saturday was just a cruising ride through SolVista then over to the Fraser to Granby Trail. It took awhile to get my mountain biking legs back and to remember how to shift my body on the turns.
Today, Sunday, I climbed to the top of SolVista via Nature’s Way. It was 35 minutes of climbing and getting off my bike to go through the muddy sections and 10 minutes descending. The yellow and purple wildflowers are amazing and the grass is the greenest I’ve ever seen it. I got to the top of East Mountain and looked over to the Divide; amazing views with a clear sky. I didn’t see other bikers until I started down. One man heading to the peak, then a few minutes later, another man with an ipod at the trail/maintenace road junction, and a third man grinding his way up. Just after passing the last man, I fell, cur plunk just before a sharp, rocky turn. It took a while to master the sharp turns going downhill but now I think I’m ready for a longer ride.
The trails on SolVista are so fun. There are a few muddy spots but otherwise in great shape. It’s a great way to end a summer day in the mountains.
I love the colors and shapes of these rocks. Every time I open a book to learn about rocks and geology I fall asleep when they start talking about a million years ago.
After discussing the title of my book of essay with my sister she came up with a new title: Continental Quotient – The mountains aren’t the problem; they are the solution. Kim loves long division; she’s a 5th grade teacher.
Changed from: Continental Divide: Stories from both sides of the Divide.
I loved this book. I read it on the airplane and I couldn’t put it down. This book is about families, and mothers, and how just when you need it, someone walks into your life, and changes everything. You just have to be ready. Here are some of my favorite parts of the book:
“After a while, she put her head in my lap and said, “I want my mommy.” I thought about those words, how they contained so much more than they seemed to contain, more than any four words could hold. They meant what they meant and were also a universal cry, maybe the universal, plaintive, openhearted cry for comfort…I thought about my own mother – straight-backed, eternally smiling, never without tissues, Band-Aids, lipstick, aspirin, optimism, and reassurance. Mothers – why didn’t they all collapse under such weight?”
“My life – my real life- started when a man walked into it, a handsome stranger in a perfectly cut suit and, yes, I know how that sounds. Or I know how it might sound, to the kind of person I used to be, one who spent her days skirting around the edges of adulthood, commitment, responsibility, accomplishment – whatever word you use to describe diving into the deepest part of being human. Take your pick; they’re all woefully inadequate, but they’re also all we have. If you’re the kind of person I used to be, you might think that real life means going after what you want and getting it… but in the months that followed Martin’s gracing of Café Dora’s doorway, I’d figured out that a real life didn’t mean attaining my heart’s desire, but knowing it, meant not the satisfaction, but the longing. Knowing what you love and why, I found out, is as real as it gets.”
Posted by kristen on May 11th, 2009 — Posted in *Music
Waiting for Now: Listen on Myspace Don’t ask me who I am, Don’t ask me where I stand, Don’t ask me what’s my plan, Cause I don’t know. I’m just a planted seed. I’m not where I would like to be. I still got dreams but they’re just on hold.
Don’t ask me to give. Don’t ask me to steal. Don’t ask me to love. Don’t ask me to feel.
This life is a haze. Are these years or are these days? Seeing the world while my eyes stay glazed.
Waiting to give, Waiting to go, Waiting to live, I’m waiting to know.
Waiting to roam, Waiting for time, Waiting for home, I’m just waiting for mine.
Waiting for her, Waiting for sounds, Waiting for words, I’m waiting for now. I’m just waiting for now.
I’ve been out on the mountain behind my house searching for rocks to line my walkway in front of my house. As I walk the dogs my head is down looking for the perfect coloring in the rocks embedded in the ground or loose thrown around the mountain.
My thoughts wonder so much this week to my grandmother who died Wednesday. I’ve been thinking of her a lot and our family vacations. We only saw my parent’s family for 2 weeks each summer growing up. We drove south from upstate New York to just outside of Philadelphia. Our first stop was my grandmother’s house; the house where my dad was born. Once we were off the highway and driving in the tree-filled suburban landscape, me and my brother and sister would start practicing kissing by grabbing the headrests in front of us and start kissing it. [this was before seatbelts were required] We knew as soon as we pulled up to the house, my grandmother would rush out of the house and hugs and kiss us – we needed to be ready.
My grandmother, we called her Mom Mom, orchestrated our entire summer: buying the best, red tomatoes and corn [reputed to be the best corn in the world according to my family] and making the best hoagies with soft bread. After a few days in Rosemont, we all drove to the shore; Ocean City, NJ. Mom Mom swam in the ocean with us, ducked under waves, pulled us on rafts into the deep, and rode every amusement park ride on the boardwalk. No – was not part of her vocabulary. She did everything with us.
All of these memories run through my mind as I’m hiking with the dogs on the mountain, swimming laps in the pool, and the long bike rides. And, as I scour the hillsides in Colorado looking for the perfect rock: color, shape, I think of Mom Mom and how we searched for perfect seashells on the sandy, warm beaches of Ocean City, NJ every July.
She lavished her grandchildren with love and hugs and kisses and presents; and created lasting memories for us all. I can’t wait to share these memories and listen to my cousins talk about theirs next week for her memorial; and to celebrate the life of Anna Lodge.
5-1-09 Today I started the outdoor rock collection. It will line the front of the house. Each rock tells a story. Today’s rock looks like the slate that I just chiseled up from my entryway. But I found it on the part of the road that in winter is a ski slope and not a road. This is a private ski resort so they can do whatever they want including cover up a road to make way for a ski slope.
5-2-09 Rock #2 which is really #3 in the line, is from the trail that intersects the ski runs. It’s a maintenance road but I love to walk the dogs. Today I wanted to see how far we could go before we hit snow and it is clear though. After work I may run it with the dogs or take the dogs farther tomorrow morning. This rock is a typical rock: round, grey. There is nothing special about this rock other than it seemed a good size for lining my entryway and it wasn’t too heavy to carry.
