Quality Family Time

This Christmas my brother and I traveled down to AZ to be with the family. Seeing that my brother and I are 21 and 25 it seems that my Mom decided to pull the "Everyone gets to choose one thing they get to do while were here...." Yea, my dad chose a basketball game, my brother chose a basketball game and my mom chose a football game...I chose going "hiking" in Sedona. This was obviously the completely absurd choice since the previous choices were so uniquely different from one another. My brother begged to stay home and work on his new, 'Funk Flexin Fresh' CD he's coming out with...(he actually is a pretty good DJ but the names are ridiculous!)

On the trip to Sedona we practically reenacted the Family Grizwald Christmas and played car games.

(21 questions)

Dad:male?

Keith: Yea

Dad: Music

Keith: Yea

Nikki: Rap?

Keith: Yea

Dad: Black?

Keith: Yea

Mom: EMINEM!

......

We soon arrived... the rocks carved out the the earth were incredible. The clouds hung low swooping in and out of the spaces between the rocks- a storm was traveling in. We had a couple hours for a little exploring which mostly included my brother sleeping in the car while my parents yelled..."Don't Slip" every other rock and, "Stand back from the edge." Roaming without a purpose-lovely. It was great to explore freely with the camera in such a beautiful place. When you look back at photos you are often reminded..."Oh yes thats when I was laying over that cliff, risking my life to get that angle." There are so many incredible stories behind each photo that most viewers will never know... sadly. One thing that I appreciate about photography is there will never be another picture like the one you just clicked. Is it to take two identical pictures in a row. To me, these are a couple things that make it special.

As the storm crept closer my bro said he wanted to stop somewhere too before we left...Starbucks.

Then it started to pour.

And 21 questions began again.

Walt Whitman

Miracles
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sigh over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one i love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey--bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new noon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,

To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim-the rocks-to motion of the waves-
The ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
-Walt

I wouldn't let me borrow that

So I've been reflecting lately how I tend to lose things..a lot of things...all of the time. Its not that I'm completely irresponsible or careless...its just that my mind wanders. A lot. And the last thing I'm thinking about is making sure I have all 'my things. I began to reflect on this problem of mine when I misplaced an "irreplaceable" video last week that a very intimidating professor lent me, after much convincing.
"If you lose this I will chop up your ID and come find you."
I will spare you (mom) the details of how scary this particular professor is. Anyway, I realized at this point that if I ever have children I will lose them. I will never drive them in my car if it is above 80 or below 40...for they could be forgotten in the car.

Rather disappointed that I've misplaced recently...

The necklace my little cousin made me
The necklace my dad made me
The necklace my mom gave me
The necklace my high school boyfriend gave me (tear)
The necklace my grandmother passed down to me...(Although I did have this one for 5 ish years which is a record.)
My favorite scarf
My new favorite scarf
My roommates favorite scarf...sorry again
Basketball shoes
My basketball
My friends car keys while I was running in the woods which ended with me sitting in the back of a police car



Things That I hope to never lose...

Passion
The ability to Let Go- forgive
Curiosity
Ability to recognize Beauty in unexpected places
Laughter
Desire to Learn from others


Dorthy Day used to say...."The key is to not hold onto anything"

Maybe she used to lose things too...

Anyway to focus on the positive...I feel that I'm not attached to anything which makes this hobby of misplacing everything a bit less emotionally damaging.


Oh yes and I hope never to lose that sense of peace inside each of us that often times gets overcrowded or drowned out. The harmony that you feel, smiling at yourself knowing that your being directed by something greater than your mind-


Dear God, we give thanks for place of simplicity and peace. Let us find such a place within ourselves. We give thanks for places of refuge and beauty. Let us find such a place within ourselves. We give thanks for places of natures truth and freedom, of joy inspirations and renewal, places where all creatures may find acceptance and belonging. let us search for these places; in the world, in ourselves and in others let us restore them. Let us strengthen and protect them and let us create them. may we mend this outer world according to the truth of our inner life and may our souls be shaped and nourished by natures eternal wisdom. Amen

I CAVED

I gave in. On the third hour of doing case studies in class today I decided anything would be more appealing...even.. Blogging! I glanced over at my good friend Sarah working diligently in class. I recalled her having a blog..she has it together you know and so thats when I did it. The decision was made. Thank you Sarah. For your oblivious encouragement.
I sped home on my bicycle with caution wishing I remembered my bike light (the intense crash over the 'hidden curb still haunts me) gazing up at the clear sky.
You know when your driving and you get home and you realize you had been spacing out for the last 10 minutes while your driving. This hobby is much more dangerous on your bicycle...
Anyways the car saw me and I made it home..to the BIKE SHED
I have a weird relationship with our bike shed. I love and appreciate this building for taking care of star...my bike.--> Its a TREK. Get it?
I've developed the perfect skill of quickly sliding my bike into the shed without ever stepping foot into it.
I know its just a shed but for those of you who don't know I was locked into a shed as a child. Please don't laugh...it was TRAUMATIZING.
Long story short..ish we had new neighbors. Being the sweet, innocent 8 year old that I was I felt it would be a good idea to welcome the potential hide and seek players to the neighborhood. After the awkward introductions we were instant buddies. Judy, your typical eight year old bully. I wanted to be on her side so she didnt steal my gramn crackers at lunch. Her punk older brother was in the picture as well at this point as well. His shoes were way to big for his feet and you could see his boxers so I thought I should probably do what he said.
It went something like...
POB: (Punk Older brother) Nikki will you grab the soccer ball
Nikki: Sure Todd where is it
Bully: In the shed

I skipped delightfully to retrieve the soccer ball. I turned around to find the tormentors slamming the shed doors and latching the lock. You might be thinking that this story is getting a little long. But...I was in that shed for 3 hours! Three hours when your 8 is not a healthy time period to be in a shed with tools and various weapons hanging from the ceiling.
Which reminds me that the POB decides it would be a good idea to jump on the shed to encourage my hysteria. Some metal device falls directly on my head cutting into my skull. (It was probably like a paper cut but there was blood)
Long story short I finally resorted to breaking their window in the shed to escape.
I give credit to my Father for these dramatic ideas, taking me to rated PG 13 and often times R movies while he was supposed to be taking me to Fox and the Hound...

I believe this is why being inside a shed frightens me.

(the names in this story have been changed to protect these criminals.)