okay, okay, I'm posting already!

I don't have much to say today, but bittersweet leaves is getting bitter about my lack of posting, so here, leaf girl, this is for you!

Less than two weeks until the end of school. Eep. This week's the last week of classes. Next week is finals . . . so, insha'llah, I will be done with everything by Thursday the 14th around 9 pm! I'm such a slacker. I always say this, and it always continues to be true, and it always continues to irritate me, though obviously not enough for me to actually do something about it. Oh, well. Somehow all will get finished, as it always does.

It's been quite the week, actually. I worked more than 40 hours for the first time, and they were all good hours, for the most part. That is, I did work that needed to be done, and I felt useful, and on top of things. Not, of course, as though I'm doing anything terribly profound, but the little things need to be done well just as the big things do.

Also lots of emotional trauma/drama going on. Not, for once, in my own heart, but in those of people around me. I feel as though I'm a peripheral character in a daytime soap opera . . . "The Young and the Restless of EVST" or "The Miserable Days of Other People's Lives." I've been able to be present for a friend who needs me, and I am glad for that opportunity. At the same time, I'm frustrated with the fickleness and untrustworthiness of people I want to be able to trust. What do you do when you realize you no longer trust a good friend? How does trust get rebuilt? I know that it does--or, at least, that it can be rebuilt--but the process seems different every time. I wonder how things will play out this time.

Strange how dramas in other people's lives can help illuminate one's own life. Why is it so much easier to look at two people who are making each other miserable and see so clearly that they aren't right for each other . . . and not be able to look at a somewhat parallel situation in my own life and come to the same conclusion? Plah.

All told, though, life is going well. I've lately been looking for miracles--people miracles, specifically--in each day, and remarkably, I'm finding them. I've been thinking about 'frame of mind' a great deal lately. For instance, if your frame of mind is such that you are determined to look for misery in your everyday life, you will most definitely find it. But we so often forget that the opposite is also true--that if we look for the beauty and the miracles in our everyday lives, we will most definitely find them. So--a few people miracles that have floated into my life these past couple of weeks:

*running into Christa and Catherine at the grocery store when I was feeling lonely and needing a friend
*being told that my presence is a blessing
*25 people sharing a Thanksgiving meal, and taking time before we ate to tell of one or two or five things we are thankful for
*contra dancing, and having one of the gentlemen I danced with remember the conversation we had two weeks ago
*contra dancing, and getting to smile at and connect with so many different people
*Jenny calling me to wander around downtown and go shopping this weekend
*running into a huge group of EVSTers while doing the gallery walk for First Friday

. . . and of course I could go on and on and on, but I'm hungry and I have to read and write for a few hours (or more) today.

I'll be home in less than THREE weeks!!! Ilhamdulillah! I can't wait. It will be so good to see:

Mom and Dad
Andrea
Travis, Tami, Dillan, Landon
Bepa
Kasey
Jen and Joe
Janelley
Bethie and Amy
Maygs and Seth
Rita and David
Sarah (and Josh, and their wedding!)
people at Covenant, at Dordt, etc . . .

Pray for good traveling weather for us all!!

The Contents of My Freezer

This afternoon I was putting something in the freezer. Don't remember what. And I noticed that our freezer was absolutely overflowing with stuff. But I had no idea what most of it was. So Teresa and I spent half an hour in archaeological pursuits. Here is what we found:

*1 large ziplock bag of chicken broth
*3 large bags of freezer-burned ice
*6 ears of corn, freezer burned
*2 pork loins, fresh (i.e., just put there two days ago)
*1 hunk of unidentifiable meat from our friend Christa, who borrowed some freezer space since her old roommate took up all of theirs
*2 pieces of uncooked chicken, still palatable
*1 tupperware container with 1 extremely freezer-burned piece of steak and one extremely freezer-burned hamburger, left over from when Mom and Dad visited in July (whoops!). Currently thawing in the fridge. Will give to Sasha tomorrow (lucky dog!).
*1 small bag of sliced zucchini, unreedemable
*1 small bag of sliced peppers, fresh
*1 piece of spinach lasagne
*1 3"x8" pan of lasagne, for a rainy day
*1 large yogurt container full of lentil soup, also for a rainy day
*1 large yogurt container full of unknown soup, for yet another rainy day
*1 full loaf of bread
*6 partial loaves (mostly ends) of bread
*2 bags of corn tortillas (~25)
*1 Caribou Coffee Vanilla Latte bar (where the heck did it come from? Not mine, not Teresa's . . . it's a mystery. Wendi and Scott, perhaps?)
*2 ice cube trays of fuzzy ice
*1 partial bag of frozen peas
*1 partial bag of frozen mixed vegetables
*1 cooler ice pack, small
*4 containers of ice cream:
Cookies and Creme, generic brand (age: 4 months? more? has now been washed down sink)
Rocky Mountain Rubble, generic brand (age: 3 months? same fate as above)
Cookies and Creme, Dreyers brand (age: 3 weeks: still good)
French Vanilla, Albertson's brand (age: 2 weeks: still good)

Stay tuned for the next exciting episode in The Life and Times of Al! Up next: The Contents of My Fridge, or perhaps, even more thrilling: The Contents of The Recycling Cave of Death (or RCoD).

Contra Dancing!

I had the most fantastic evening yesterday! It was a contra dance night, but instead of being held in the too-small space above the Union Club, it was in the University Center ballroom, a huge gorgeous space with high ceilings, great acoustics, and a smooth wooden floor, perfect for dancing. It was the best contra dance I've been to--all of the men I danced with were at least fairly good, and most of them were very good, and the music was fantastic. Such good energy! I keep recognizing random people, too--there was a man there from my yoga class, and one from my lit class, and then of course there were lots of EVST ladies. I danced with the cutest 17-year-old boy named Tor--shy, tall, courteous--and we laughed the whole time. It was like dancing with a little brother except that he was probably a foot taller than I. And then of course there are all the courtly 65-year-old men who have been contra dancing for decades and are fantastic at it. I admit there's a definite dearth of guys my age, but at a contra dance that's just fine. At any rate, I danced for three hours, ate carrot cake, and had a great time. I'll see if I can get some pictures for ya'll to enjoy!


Speaking of pictures, I promised to put up Halloween pictures. So here I am, cute as can be. Aren't I a convincing 6-year-old?? Notice the feet! Hee hee hee. I think this may be the most comfortable Halloween costume I've ever had.







































Awww . . .































It rained all last night and it's still going at it this morning. A good thing, I suppose, since I need to get my reading done. We read Ecotopia by Ernest Callenbach for class last week--an intriguing utopian novel for those interested in a vision of an alternate, eco-friendly future, as written from a 1970's perspective. This week we're going for the other end of the spectrum with The Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler, a dystopian novel set in 2024. I haven't gotten very far, but the few chapters I've read are haunting enough. I'm wondering whether this will have a depressing or a cheerful ending. I'm hoping for cheerful . . .

Here's my funny story of the week, the story of a Sunday hike, mule deer, and bushwhacking up Mt. Jumbo:

Last week Sunday was a glorious day, the last real Indian summer day we had. Warm, sunny, full of golden sunshine and yellow leaves: I had to take a hike. So I walked east to the foot of Mt. Jumbo. My friend Jenny and I had hiked to the summit a few weeks ago, and I wanted to take the same trail. However, there are several trails, going to various spots, and I took the wrong one. Whoops. I was walking parallel to I-90, towards East Missoula, and the trail wasn't going up quickly enough. I looked up the mountainside, and, far above me, saw the trail that I wanted to take. Inspired by the beautiful day, I decided to bushwhack up the side of the mountain. It was horribly steep, and I tried to cut back and forth as I worked my way up, since going straight up was far too much of a challenge for my poor legs. Halfway up to the trail, I spotted three mule deer, casually grazing about 50 yards above me. As I came closer, they turned to look down at me, enormous ears pricked, watching curiously. By this time my legs were aching and I was out of breath, so I collapsed on the side of the hill to rest, and lay there, watching the clouds and the traffic on I-90, enjoying the view of Mt. Sentinel to the south. Suddenly, though, a chill breeze sprang up, and the sunshine vanished. I looked west, and saw a huge bank of clouds rolling into the valley, covering the sun and pushing a stiff cold breeze ahead of it. Time to get moving again, I thought. So I turned to look up the mountain again, only to see ELEVEN mule deer standing above me, all perfectly still, with ears pricked, staring straight at me, probably wondering what the heck this human being was doing sprawled out on the side of their hill. I lost it. I started laughing hysterically, flopped on the ground, while the deer watched with intense interest.

I didn't make it to the summit, but I did manage to get to the right trail, and took a far easier path back down the mountain. I wish I'd had my camera with me so I could share a picture of those mule deer, but that image will have to remain in my mind alone.

Hee.

connecting and disconnecting

Today is a sublimely gorgeous day. So what else would I be doing but sitting inside updating my blog?

This morning I got up earlyish and went outside to rake leaves. In Missoula, all that leaf rakers have to do is rake the leaves onto the street, from which they will be picked up by the city and taken away to be composted. It's nice not to have to stuff leaves into garbage bags and haul them away yourslf. So this morning Teresa and I did a little raking, but the leaves haven't made it into the street yet. We raked them into a massive pile and did a little leaf jumping . . . and then I just lay there in this pile of gold, looking up at the blue, blue sky, the dark branches of the maples, the few yellow leaves still hanging on the branches. I watched the leaves flutter down, one by one, in the light breaths of breeze. Mmm.

Last night was the big EVST Halloween party. Last year's party was a blast, with some amazingly creative costumes and lots of food and beer and dancing. This year I dressed up as a 6-year-old, which was great. I wore purple footie pajamas (so warm and fuzzy!), and put my hair up in pigtails, and carried around a stuffed cow, and had string and crayons and a baggie of gorp and a stuffed camel in my pockets. Pictures forthcoming. It was a fun party, but around 11 o'clock I was standing there, surrounded by blasting music, people laughing and talking loudly, good food, good beer . . . and I suddenly felt disconnected from it all. I don't know if I've somehow grown beyond these parties, or if I just wasn't in the mood, or if I was just really getting into the role of my costume, but I realized that what I most wanted to do was go home and go to bed and get enough sleep tonight. So I did. Three cheers for responsibility?

Part of me misses the grad student life. I miss the flexibility of that schedule, the freedom, the long vacations, the community. I'm still part of the community--on the edge of it, at least--but in so many other ways I seem to have moved on. I've been thinking a lot lately about what goals I have for my life, what I want to do, who I want to be, what kind of life I want to live. I've decided that someday I would like to own my own land, and build a house on that land. I feel impossibly far away from the realization of that dream, but at least I'm dreaming it, right? Insha'allah.


Okay, so I suppose I should post some pictures. Let's see what I can dredge up . . .


This is from my birthday party, just before I whacked the hell out of my pinata.





























And Bethie came to visit me! Of course I took her (and Wendi and Scott) to the Old Post.





























And back even further, pictures from Lindsay's wedding in August. Here are all of us gorgeous bridesmaids in our shimmery shades of aqua in the Greek Orthodox church where Linds got married.





























And here are Jen, Maygs, Linds, and I, together again! Oh, it brings me back to our high school days when we'd hang out at Linds's house on the weekends and eat pizza and Doritos, drink Mountain Dew, and watch Clueless. Those were the good old days. Thank God we eat more healthily now! (Right, Linds?)































All right, time to get my nose to the grindstone. Either that, or I'll go out and hike and enjoy this perfect day. Not long, now, until the grey cloudiness of Missoula winter sets in!

Dancing the Macarena . . .

Last night Teresa, Christa and I did a dancing double-header, starting out our evening with lasagna, bread, and wine (mmm, wine!), and then going to the bi-monthly contra dance. Such fun! I love contra dancing, especially with gentlemanly 60-70ish-year-old men. One of the men I danced with reminded me of my Pake, and I just thought about how good Pake would have been at contra dancing, and teasing all the young women. It was lots of fun, and such good exercise! Afterward, the three of us headed over to the Elk's Club for the monthly salsa dance. That was fun, too, but I was really tired and didn't last very long. Right before we left, they played the Macarena, and it was soooo funny to see this huge roomful of people dancing the Macarena. I think the last time I've danced that is at a barn dance for youth group when I was in high school . . . say, a decade ago? Hee hee hee.


Life has been so good lately. This past week has had a lot of positives--at work on Monday I got promoted from "The Intern Who Does A Little Bit of Everything" to "Full Time Employee Who Does A Little Bit of Everything"! Yay! This means an up in pay . . . health benefits . . . TRAVEL benefits . . . and a steady job for the first time in my life. And, for the first time in my life, I'm in a place (both geographical and mental), where I'm willing and even eager to have a steady job. I love my co-workers, which is a good thing, since it's a small office (it's actually a house), with only about 15 employees, so if we don't like each other we ALL have a problem. This week I get to move to my new desk, and it is MY desk, which means I can put up pictures and quotes and have it as my personal space. Yay again! My job right now is an amalgamation of Office Manager and Peru/Ecuador Operations Person, but I think that in the next couple of weeks I'm going to add "Flight/Travel Agent" to the list. Needless to say, I will be keeping busy!


What else? I went to yoga on Tuesday, and it was good, as always. My friend Jess and I went together and then had pizza at the Bridge afterward--I think it will be a Tuesday evening tradition, and a good one. On Wednesday Jess and I went rock climbing, and it was so much fun! I have only been climbing once, and that was two and a half years ago, so I'm glad to be able to do it again. I think it may be an activity I could really enjoy! Wednesday night was also the ROLLING STONES concert, so the University was swarming with people, and the smell of pot wafted through the air . . . hee.


On Friday I didn't work, so I ran errands and went to Old Navy and got some fun clothing (too many good sales . . . beware!), and just had a good, relaxed day. In the evening I went with my friend Francie to her three-room schoolhouse and helped her decorate her classroom for Halloween. We had so much fun! She hung up skeletons and spiders and bats, and I stretched cobwebby stuff in all the corners of the classroom, and we listened to 'Nosotros' -- an awesome Latino band -- and danced around the room as we decorated.


So . . . life is good, and I find myself in this strange place of contentment and enthusiasm. The semester did NOT start off well at all, and I admit to being stressed and sad and worried about how my life was going, but these past couple of weeks have been so rich. I know that God is constantly working in our lives, but I'm not sure we're always able to see it. I feel blessed to be able to feel God's hand in my life right now, blessed that I am open to it, blessed that I am so loved as to receive the richness of his grace. This grace and contentment are running like a river through my soul, deep and wide and strong, and no matter the pools and eddies, the tree branches and ice, the dams and obstacles, on the surface, the current is running beneath, and I know and feel that it is there.


And today has a little bit of sun, a little bit of cloud, a little bit of cold, and I think this afternoon I might walk down to Bernice's and drink tea and read Wind from an Enemy Sky, by D'Arcy McNickel, for my Lit class. Or perhaps I will look through my writings of the past year and try to figure out what I'm going to read at my (gulp) reading this Wednesday night (EEP!).


On to being productive . . . at least a little. Happy Sunday, everyone!

Caminante, No Hay Camino

Caminante, no hay camino.
Se hace camino al andar. --Antonio Machado

Oh, you want a translation?

Traveller, there is no path.
The path is made by walking .

There is so much going on in my world right now. I feel these monumental pieces shifting inside, some of them disintegrating to dust while others move towards alignment, preparing to click into place. Looking inside, I wonder if those pieces that are about to click are now able to do so because of the pieces that have crumbled away? I am reminded of an Anne Lamott essay, in which she talks about the need for us to be distracted, sometimes, so that something beautiful can be born--how if we aren't distracted, our selves get too much in the way of the grace and beauty that are waiting to burst into our lives.


I've been so busy lately--with work, with friends, with class, with efforts to control my life--that I'm glad for this unexpected space that I've stumbled into, space that is giving me the chance to look around and truly see the world around me and myself within that world. There's a part of me that is terrified to think that there is no path . . . and another part of me that is deeply grateful and excited that the path is made by walking, simply taking one stumbling step after another.


I don't know the last time I recognized so clearly the healing that was going on in my heart and soul. It's as though I've been granted x-ray vision that sears through every layer and lays bare the inner core, and what I see sparks hope rather than fear.


In our pragmatic culture, we are not often given to visions, but every once in a while one will break through the layers of logic and practicality with which we surround ourselves. One broke through to me last Monday morning, early, when my logic layer was still soft and muddled with sleep.

It is morning, early. The room is still dark, though the light edging the horizon seeps through my blinds, and when I raise them, just a little, I can see the stark outline of the mountain against the eastern sky. It is the edge of dawn, the edge of night. I float in the space between, watching the deep blue-green sky shifting ever, subtly, to September dawn blue. There are no clouds; all is clear this morning.

I look out the window, and I rest there, for a minute or five, just being myself. I watch the dawn creeping up behind the mountains, and the deepness of the dome of the sky; I hear the birds and see them flinging themselves towards morning, and their silhouettes are free and joyful. The valley is deep in shadow yet, and the shadows are beautiful.

I see myself, this morning. I look out the window, but I am looking inside, deep inside, seeing the shadows spread across my soul, but seeing too the dawn outlining the edges of the mountains. One long ray of sunshine slips over the curve of the earth and shoots into the interior, bathing it in gold, a pure radiant fire. It is me; this is my life, and for the first time in too long (for the first time ever?), I see the core of strength that lies inside. It is not just that others see it in me; it is that I see it in myself, illuminated by that long ray of light. It may be shadowed again tonight, tomorrow, but even in shadow it is there. It is there, and now I know where to look, even when darkness falls.

I will grieve for what was lost. I can’t expect myself not to. I will grieve, and I will move into the pain—but I will also step out on the other side of pain and grief, as though climbing over the eastern mountains at sunrise. The western slopes will be in shadow as I climb, and I will stumble, and my breath will come short and my legs will ache, but I will edge over the summit and be bathed in light.

Blessings

Rain is falling in Missoula today.


The autumn rains have come, washing away the last remnants of summer. The rain fell yesterday and all last night, soaking into my sleep and my dreams. The open window at the head of my bed let in the chilly damp air, and I layered the blankets in a warm cocoon and slept long and well.


After the brightness and sunshine of summer, this is a shock to the system. After the smoky, forest-fiery days of late summer, this is a welcome change. I am getting more ready for fall. The leaves aren't quite turning yet--there are a few light greens and yellows here or there, but deep summer green is still reigning for a few more days or hours.


I'm sitting in the warmth of one of the numerous Missoula coffee shops, surrounded by people studying or sipping their lattes or typing away at their laptops, as I am. Conversation fills the air, a warm, homey sound. I like the low lighting and the sound of the espresso machine and the dim grey daylight filtering through the windows.


School has started, and once again I've dropped a course to keep my sanity. I am taking only one course now, the Literature of Sustainability, and it will be a good class, I think, despite one or two rather pretentious peers who too much like the sound of their own voices. Insha'allah they will come down to earth relatively soon and start making comments with actual substance. The prof seems to be a kindred spirit, a judgment I'm making solely on account of the expressions that cross her face as the discussion circles round the room. She has a sense of humor, and cares about what she's teaching.


Work is also going well. I've asked for and received a raise--every little bit helps--and I'm shifting from being a clueless intern to becoming a more significant part of our small office. Office work: sigh. I admit, however, that there is something satisfying about keeping things in order and running smoothly. I find that I am also, in the course of working on various projects (updating our cruise listings database, writing up a new tour for Costa Rica, etc.), learning a little bit about other parts of the world, and a lot more about our company. Being able to answer people's questions is extremely satisfying. I also get to talk to some interesting people--a USA Today reporter going to the Galapagos, the private physician of a British lord (!), a woman in the Marines serving in Iraq--and, while talking on the phone is not as nice as interacting with people face to face, it helps me feel a little more connected.




I will admit that life has been difficult lately. I am trying to see the blessings in my life--and they are there, very much so--but so often the sad bits overwhelm the blessings. If I were to list the blessings and sadnesses in my life, the list of blessings would be so much longer, and yet the sadnesses somehow manage to seep through, infiltrating the core of every blessing, making it nearly impossible for this weak amalgamation of body and mind and heart and spirit to feel hopeful or content for more than a few moments at a time.


It is the human plight, I know. If someone as godly and wise and patient and insightful as Henri Nouwen could go through a period of time in which he could not feel the presence of God, then what hope do I have to wholly avoid such an experience? Yet God is very much present. I do not know where he is, and I do not know how he works, and I do not know how he communicates with us--but I know that he is present, and that is a comfort.


A few blessings (in no particular order):


*birthday cards in the mail
*candles . . . care packages . . . love enclosed in bubble wrap
*rain
*parents who believe in love and prayer
*good art
*a quiet, candle-lit Vespers service last week
*friends who are doing well and settling into their skins
*a possible weekend trip to Las Vegas! . . . at least it'll make a good story . . .
*hot homemade soup
*hot baths on cold and rainy days
*wonderful people to work with
*tea
*fuzzy socks
*Old Post nachos
*the fact that forgiveness and peace and reconciliation exist in this world, and that there are stories of such goodness coming out on top even in the darkest of circumstances
*Bethie coming to visit me next week!
*a certain Baltimore babe and the exciting things happening in her life . . .
*my awesome roomie
*being on Jen's family email list :)
*artistic friends who create hilarious cartoons based on real events
*good books
*Robin McKinley's uncanny and enviable ability to create fantastic and wholly believable Other Worlds
*feeling the presence of God even when I want to accuse him of not paying attention
*the fact that I'm not actually in control of my life (have you ever noticed that the more one tries to control things, the worse off things become? I think I just need to stop thinking I know what I want)
*friends who know an appalling number of things about my life and somehow still manage to love me anyway . . . I was thinking about this the other day: we don't love people so much for their generic good qualities as for their quirks, right? I love you because you are, all of you, a little wacky, a little strange, and you break the bounds of boring normalcy, refusing to fit into some predictable mold, refusing to think you have to do so . . . I love you for your rebellions!




Hmm. I'm STILL not getting homework done. MUST GET INTO HOMEWORK GROOVE. MUST. HOMEWORK GROOVE, OR DIE! Urgh. This anti-homework rebellion is going to get me in trouble if it persists for too much longer. One must choose one's rebellions, I suppose. There must be more appropriate things against which to rebel . . . any suggestions?

Pre-Birthday Jitters

Tomorrow is my birthday. My (gulp) 27th birthday. What's the consensus: Is this the official move from the Mid-Twenties to the Late Twenties, or can I still claim myself as Mid-Twenties gal?

I was looking at my hair today. I'm having a good hair day, which is nice since I'm partying tonight. My hair is brown, but has lots of golden highlights from the Montana sunshine. I like the color very much, I must say. But 27 is getting awfully close to 30, and 30 is getting awfully close to 40 (right?), and somewhere between 30 and 40 a woman can expect some gray hairs, right? When it comes down to it, I have a limited amount of time in which to enjoy non-gray hair. I don't think I'm quite ready for gray hair yet . . .

Don't worry, that's not the only thing I've been thinking about today. It's a smoky day today--lots of wildfires around the state, and the air is close and warm and hazy.


Yesterday Teresa and I wanted to take advantage of the warm weather to go for one last tubing outing of the summer. Unfortunately, the Blackfoot was FREEZING. We waded in, gasping, and by the time we got into water up to our knees we couldn't feel our feet. So instead of the two-mile trip we'd planned, we walked up about 100 yards, put our tubes in, and numbed our butts while we floated back down. BRRRR!!!! I suppose this means that summer is officially over, but what if I'm not quite ready for that?







However, there are some new beginnings right now, too. One of them is that Teresa just adopted a dog from the Humane Society! Her name is Sasha, and she's 83 pounds of sweet and mellow Keeshond-cross mutt. Today I took her down to the river, and discovered that she loves water. She waded right in, and took off after some ducks that were floating down the river on the far side. After several minutes of concentrated calling and whistling on my part, she came back. (The fact that the ducks were rapidly putting distance between may have had some small part in her return . . . ) She's quite the princess!

This past week was also the first week of school--yet another change I'm not ready for. I'm sensing that this will be a busy semester for me--two classes plus 30 hours of working. I'm more than a bit apprehensive, but I've given myself three-day weekends, so I'm hoping that will help. (However, throughout the course of this lovely FOUR-day weekend I have done only an hour's worth of homework, so obviously I'm going to have to work on things like efficiency and motivation. Plah.)


Life is good, though. I'm reading "Reaching Out" by Henri Nouwen, and finding that it has a lot of relevance at this point in my life. He talks about the distinction between 'solitude' and 'loneliness,' and I am constantly amazed by his wisdom:

To live a spiritual life we must first find the courage to enter into the desert of our loneliness and to change it by gentle and persistent efforts into a garden of solitude. This requires not only courage but also a strong faith.

Unless our questions, problems and concerns are tested and matured in solitude, it is not realistic to expect answers that are really our own . . . . A lonely person has no inner time nor inner rest to wait and listen. He wants answers and wants them here and now. But in solitude we can pay attention to our inner self. In solitude we can become present to ourselves. [In solitude] we also can become present to others by reaching out to them, not greedy for attention and affection but offering our own selves to help build a community of love. Solitude does not pull us away from our fellow human beings but instead makes real fellowship possible.

I love the paradox. I love also the challenge in Nouwen's words. Lately I have felt God showing me a vision of the kind of person I can be. I don't know exactly what kind of journey it will be; I don't know exactly what path I need to take. But the simple fact that there is a path, that God does have changes planned for me, is enough. I am girding my loins and gathering my oft-faltering courage, and am taking steps, tiny steps, and am mostly moving in the right direction. This is a good thing to do now, at the beginning of my 28th year.

Roller Coasters . . .

School starts next week. I am not at all ready for it. These last few weeks of summer break have flown by far too quickly--I have had no time to wind down, to prepare myself for the imminent beginning of the school year. And there are simply too many frustrating and confusing things going on in my life right now, and I feel as though I have no time to sort through them properly.

Last year at this time I was so happy, for the first time in a long time. I was so excited to be starting grad school, so thrilled to be meeting interesting, thoughtful people, so fully content with my life. I was coruscatingly joyful, one year ago.

I would wish to be in that place again. Why is it that most of the time we can't be that happy? I love the feeling that my horizons are opening up, stretching out, out, out, so that I can look up into an infinity of blue sky and know that anything is possible, and that all the possibilities are gorgeous beyond my wildest imaginings.














But most of the time I don't feel that way. Most of the time I feel a quieter type of contentment, a quiet happiness that I get to wake up in Missoula, Montana, every morning, a quiet enjoyment of the mountains, the clear air, the rivers, my friends, my apartment, my place here. And some of the time I am sucked down into darkness, in which there are no horizons, no possibilities, no joy, and my life seems frightening, its circumstances beyond my control.

Are those moments of transcendent joy worth the clinging darkness?

Or is it better to simply live calmly, evenly, with no violent upheavals of emotion?

I have to believe that those moments of joy are worth the darkness.



























They are.

summer song

New fav song for the summer: Set the Fire to the Third Bar by Snow Patrol, from their new album Eyes Open. Enjoy!

Family Fun

So, for those who are far away, further pictures of the activities of Al, Dad and Mom.

Here's me at McDonald Lake, prior to some kick-ass rock skipping.














Mom and Dad taking in the view along the Going-to-the-Sun Road.















A trip to Glacier simply wouldn't be right without snowballs in July! Hee hee.















Now, back near Missoula, here's Dad and Mom and I at the top of the ski lift at the Snowbowl ski resort.















We went with Jacob and his mom to see the gorgeous view! We could see all of Missoula and far down the Bitterroot Valley. Glorious.

Current Activities

Because I always listen to my littul sisturr . . . a post of my current activities.

Mom and Dad are visiting this week (aah!!! A WEEK!), and we are having fun. What have we done already? We have visited the PEAS farm (the pigs are huge! there are 20 new chickens! the garlic has been harvested! the entire farm is LUSH!); had fish tacos (me and Mom), fish 'n chips (Dad), and good Montana beer at the Old Post; eaten sushi, calamari, and seaweed salad (go Mom and Dad! Such good sports.); experienced the divinity that is Big Dipper ice cream; hiked the M (only stopping at every other switchback for Mom to catch her breath); viewed the 204-foot-high Kerr dam at the end of Flathead Lake; and we are currently up at the Kuntz farm enjoying a sublimely beautiful evening. Mom and Dad are sitting out on the deck, reading, with the lake stretching blue beyond, and the sun easing its way behind the western mountains. Tomorrow we're heading to Glacier after breakfasting at the Echo Lake Cafe, which is supposed to have the best breakfast in western Montana. I'll let you know!

So, for all you poor people who aren't here, some pictures for your enjoyment. :)





Dad and Mom from the top of the M! They made it! Woohoo!



Me being triumphant, oh Great Hiker Al.



Yay for technology! Digital camera pics, a cool photo editing program, and voila! A gorgeous panorama shot of the Missoula valley from the M. It was the most beautiful day I've seen in quite a while, refreshingly cool and breezy.

Fear Not

"Do not fear, only believe."

Though the gospel reading was about Jairus's daughter and the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years, those five words were the ones that jumped out at me. Jesus said them to Jairus after they had been told that his daughter was dead.

I feel as though half the time I'm going through life feeling afraid, and the other half I'm doubting--my faith, my beliefs, my life, God. But listen, listen--

"Do not fear, only believe."

Perhaps this not fearing, this believing, precludes thought? Or perhaps Jesus is saying,

I know you've thought, and I know that your thoughts are torturing you.

Wait.
Breathe.

And know that you need not fear. Know that you need only believe.

Wait.
Listen.

Deep down, in your very core, you know what you believe. In love, believe it, and go forth fearless.

At least, that's what I heard whispered in my soul this Sunday.

Words of Wisdom

I seem to be so cheerful, always, on my blog.

Not that this is a bad thing, necessarily, but it makes me wonder if I'm trying to cover up the less-than-cheerful things in my life.

Words of wisdom from Paulo Coelho's Warrior of the Light:

When the master sees that the Warrior is depressed, he says:

"You are not what you seem to be in these moments of sadness. You are better than that.

"By now, millions of people will have given up. They don't get angry, they don't weep, they don't do anything; they merely wait for time to pass. They have lost the ability to react.

"You, however, are sad. That proves that your soul is still alive."


I take heart in this thought: I am sad, some days, and feel that there is too much darkness. But my soul is still very much alive.

Lately I have been feeling that the life I live is too selfish. I got an email update from a girl I went on MESP with, an amazing girl who has done and is doing so many things I envy--visiting Palestine, being deeply involved with and connected to her church, studying Arabic, working with a non-profit that helps children around the world--and I realize that it is not HER I resent, not really. Rather, it is my inaction, my selfishness, that I hate. Perhaps I do not need to do anything phenomenal, exotic, huge. But I want to start making changes on an incremental level, changes that move me from selfishness to selflessness, from living a life centered on only myself to a life that is aware of those around me.

It is a slow process, but it is one I have begun simply by recognizing that I need to begin it.


I have also been thinking about prayer lately, and God. I have told several of my friends that I will pray for them, which means I need to do it. I told them I would pray, knowing that it has been too long since I've prayed with any regularity, told them I would pray because I love them and am hoping that that love will encourage me to keep my promise.

More words from Paulo Coelho:

There are two types of prayer.

In the first type, the person asks for certain things to happen and attempts to tell God what he should do. This does not allow the Creator either time or space in which to act. God--who knows perfectly well what is best for each of us--will continue to do as he sees fit. And the person praying is left with the impression that this prayer went unanswered.

In the second type, the person may not understand the Almighty's intentions, bu he allows his life to develop according to his Creator's plans. He asks to be spared suffering, he asks for joy in the Good Fight, but he never forgets to add: "Thy will be done."

This is how the Warrior of the Light chooses to pray.


I wish it were easier. But any time I've tried to tell God what to do or who to be, I have been humbled. Which, I suppose, is good.

My heart has been sad lately. When my heart is sad, I find I want to tell God what to do, want to pray for certain things to happen. I feel as though I've been better at letting go this past year--letting go of me, of what I want, of what I think should happen, of my determination to have things my way--but I am still far from perfection in that realm.

How do I shift from asking God that certain things happen, to allowing my life to develop according to his plans?

I must remember to add "Thy will be done."

So I pray: Bring joy to those I love. Bring peace to the world, and to every heart within it. Make me a channel of your peace. Let me truly love those around me. Keep me from suffering. May I be joyful in each day.

Thy will be done.


It is very hard to say that.
It is very hard to say that and mean it.

I wish I could adopt a kitty . . .

Adorable Animals of the Missoula Humane Society
For Your Viewing Pleasure

Is this not an incredibly adorable puppy? He and his siblings are up for adoption at the Missoula Humane Society. I will not be getting one (sniff), but dang it, he's cute!

Just thought I'd spread the cuteness around. I don't (think I) generally succumb to cuteness, but I simply couldn't resist.

All right, while I'm posting pictures from the Humane Society, here's the cat Jacob got a couple of weeks ago (whose name has gone from Wylie to Whitman to Monkey to Bug Aurelius, and it had better remain at the latter since Bug is now the proud owner of an engraved name tag!).















And last but not least, here's Penelope, the cat I am still tempted to adopt (if I actually had the $250 pet deposit I'd need to give to my landlord, not to mention the $60 it costs to adopt, and all the expenses of litter and cat food, etc.). Someday . . .

ONE YEAR AGO TODAY . . .

I moved to Missoula! I can't believe I've been here for a year. I haven't been in one place for a year since I lived in Chicago. Happy anniversary to me! I had my first day of work at Adventure Life, which consisted of researching the geography and history and culture of Vietnam and starting to write up mini-articles on those topics, and mailing about 25 catalogs to random people. It's a good working environment--a small office, with the people very friendly and welcoming. I think I'm going to enjoy the work, though it's been awhile since I've worked in an office. I need to brush up on some long-unused skills. Like typing on a desktop system rather than a laptop, for instance!

Isn't it about time for me to post pictures again? Here's me and Teresa looking gorgeous (of course!), at our friend Erin's graduation party. It was a pretty wild affair--hors d'ouvres, live music, a professional drag queen performance . . .




The second picture portrays Al's Transformation From Iowa Girl To Missoula Girl. Note quintessential Missoula accessories: dog, Nalgene, bike, dorky smile, gaucho pants, olive oil, Western Family snack crackers (well, that's more a Poor Graduate Student accessory than a Missoula Girl accessory, but oh, well), and, last but not least, Chacos! Missing: devastatingly attractive curly-haired guitar-playing boy. Just squint and use your imagination. :)

I am 26, going on 27 . . .

Three months from today is my 27th birthday. I've become quite accustomed to being 26, and it has never, these past months, seemed old. So how is it that I shudder to think of turning 27? How can it seem so much older than 26? Although 27 is a nice, balanced number. Two plus seven is nine, which is one of my favorite numbers, and 27 is also divisible by nine. Besides, I like odd numbers. Well, perhaps turning 27 won't be so bad, after all. And I have three months to adjust myself to the idea.

It's a gorgeous day over here. I have done nothing terribly productive today (besides sweep my kitchen floor, put away the dishes, and put away my winter coats), but hey, it's summer vacation, right? My internship at Adventure Life begins tomorrow--exciting! So I should enjoy this day of not working. It's one of those gold and green and blue days, and the air is fresh and cool and spring-like, thanks to several days of rain. I suppose it will get hot and miserable soon enough.

Tricia and Benjamin visited me last week, and it was lovely to have them here. Unfortunately, I was sick--damn tonsils!--and not up to my usual energetic self, which was frustrating. I must say, though, Tricia and Benjamin took very good care of me, and it was very nice to have good friends around who cooked me yummy meals and did the dishes and made me drink lots of water. We camped out by Rock Creek one night, and had to fight the mule deer for our campsite; we had ice cream from the Big Dipper, and hit up the Book Exchange a few times, and ate nachos as the Old Post, and visited the Humane Society. I have decided that I am a catalyst to people adopting pets. Last summer, Tricia and Benjamin adopted Minuet from the Missoula Humane Society when we went together; this time around, it was Jacob who adopted a cat, a one-year-old black and white male whom he named Monkey. Over the past couple of years I find myself becoming more and more of a cat person. They have always seemed such unpredictable creatures (compared to dogs, that is), but I am coming to understand them better. There was the sweetest tortoiseshell cat there, and I am sorely tempted to go back to the Humane Society with Teresa and see what she thinks about Penelope . . .

All right, I think this is enough narcissism for the day. I just found out that Jen and Joe are coming out this way over the 4th of July! The three of us have a bit of a 4th of July tradition, though it's been put aside the past couple of years. (Uh oh, Joe, you're going to have an out-of-state license again! Do you think we can find another grocery cashier who will suspect you of being a raving drunk?) I love having visitors! And Amy Wojcik is coming out in about two weeks, and Mom and Dad are visiting in July . . . woohoo! It is good to have such things to look forward to.

And now I may call my friend Lindsay and see if she's up for a bit of a walk in this gorgeous Montana weather. I'm sitting writing this out on my balcony, with the sunlight dappling the leaves, and the breeze washing over my skin and tinkling my wind chimes. It is perfectly loverly.

a glorious evening

A storm blew up tonight, before sunset. I was sitting in El Cazador, eating a late supper, and suddenly the trees outside were lashing back and forth in the wind, and rain came down in the streets, hard and quick, and deep golden sunlight flashed beneath the clouds and lit up the green leaves and the slopes of Mt. Sentinel and Mt. Jumbo, while grey-blue clouds hovered above Missoula. By the time I left, the rain had let up to a misting drizzle, and the sun was resting right on the horizon.

As Jacob and I walked out, a perfect, gorgeous rainbow arced in a half circle above Mt. Sentinel, the colors glowing against the dark sky behind. One end of the rainbow rested in Rattlesnake Canyon, the other at the university. A faint second rainbow stretched above the first. The sunlight streamed past while the raindrops wet my skin, and a cool fresh breeze blew off the rushing wildness of the snowmelt-flooded Clark Fork River.

Oh glorious evening!

Oh, and did I mention that I'm finished with my first year of grad school?? Ilhamdulillah . . . and the summer now stretches out before me. I could canvass this summer if I wanted, and I think I might just do it--it would be fun to canvass in Missoula (and Helena and Bozeman and Billings and Kalispell and Whitefish), and I'd be walking a lot and thus be getting trim and fit, and the campaign is on global warming . . . it's nice to have the option, at any rate. Hmm.

And now, by gum, I'm going to go to bed because I am BEAT. It's been hot lately, and I don't like sleeping in the heat, but tonight is nice and cool, post-thunderstorm cool. Luffly.

Happy summer to all, and to all a good night!
(Three cheers for cheesiness!)

just a few more days

I am so close to being finished!

Here it is, Monday night, and I've just finished making intelligent and insightful comments on two long essays written by fellow students in my writing class. I have to comment on Teresa's essay yet before tomorrow night. Tomorrow I will be grading portfolios for most of the day, with a break around 1 o'clock for a last brief meeting with my Greening of Religion class. Tomorrow evening is my last writing class--we're having a potluck followed by workshopping. On Wednesday I'm handing back most of my students' portfolios, with a few to be handed back on Thursday morning . . . and then . . . I'm . . . done!! Ilhamdulillah!

Now to find a summer job. I have a couple of very part-time jobs already, but I'm going to need to earn at least a little more this summer. Wish me luck, these next few days and weeks, that I can find something interesting and challenging (but not too challenging) for these summer months.

On Saturday night Jacob and I drove up to his family's farm near Bigfork. It's on the east side of Flathead Lake, a few acres of land covered with 400 cherry trees, all of which are in bloom right now. The room I slept in has a window which overlooks the lake, and it was a lovely way to wake up, Sunday morning, to the sound of rain falling on the roof and mist creeping over the expanse of the lake. The smell of frying bacon wasn't too terrible of a wake-up call, either. Mmm.

It was so good to feel part of a family again. I love my friends in Missoula, but most of them are my age, or are at least at a similar place in life. I'm not close to many middle-aged or older couples--I have found no surrogate parents or grandparents here, and I miss that intergenerational interaction. So spending the day with Jacob and his parents and sister was wonderful. They welcomed me enthusiastically, adopting me with no questions asked. The warmth of their family combined with the beauty of the farm almost brought me to tears--I have missed light-hearted bantering and teasing, have missed my sister, my parents, have missed coming downstairs in the morning to a family breakfast, family prayer, family closeness.

Ilhamdulillah.

The trees are leafing out along my street, and shade falls beneath them during the day and in the twilit spring evenings. It has been a wet spring, and the grass is lush and green, and the smell of cut grass has begun wafting through the air on warm afternoons. The sun scatters light across the valley, and the mountains glow green and gold during the day, are tinted pink and gold as the sun sets, and loom dark against the sky as evening shifts to night.

So, who's going to come visit me this summer?

A True Montanan

A True Montanan

This morning I woke up just after six to go fly-fishing.

That's right, I went fly-fishing this morning for the first time in my life.

I am on my way to becoming a true Montanan.

!!!

Jacob invited me to go with him this morning, and how could I refuse an exquisitely beautiful morning standing on the bank of the Blackfoot River? He was very patient in teaching casting to a person who hasn't held a fishing rod in 15 years, and who has never done anything like casting a fly-fishing line. The long, narrow pole felt very awkward in my hands, and the mosquito-like fly kept getting caught in the napweed behind me. But after an hour or so, my hands chilled in the early morning air and beads of ice forming on the rod, I started to get the hang of it. Swish and swish and swish, back and forth, arm moving in a swinging rhythm, don't let the pole flick downward, try to toss the line straight out, don't let it bunch up as the fly hits the water . . .

I am beginning to understand the allure of fly-fishing, and why it draws so many people in. I think I need to read David James Duncan's The River Why again, and watch A River Runs Through It, too. For those of you who don't know, A River Runs Through It takes place in Missoula, along the Blackfoot River. And now I have tasted the sweetness of standing in the shadow of the mountains, fly rod in hand, the line spinning out above me and flicking out over a river running swift with snowmelt.

What's homework again?

Off the Radar . . .

Today's a gorgeous day. Breezy and cool, but the sky is cloudless and the sun is beaming down and green baby leaves are fuzzing the edges of all the trees. Spring!

My Earth Day service went really well today. Peter preached an energetic, mind-stretching sermon; I read the scriptures without stumbling over the words; and the singing was lovely. Plus, now people know who I am. :) There were even yummy desserts afterward, of which I partook liberally.

I am swinging into the last three weeks of school. As such, I'm going to be extremely busy--just thinking about the mountain of projects and papers and grading to hack through has me quivering in my Chacos. So I'm posting this as a warning that I'm going to drop off the radar until, say, May 11th. If you don't hear from me, that's why. If I don't answer your calls, that's why. If I don't post until then, that's why. I'm sure I will spend some time procrastinating, in the form of phone conversations or emails, but don't count on it.

I love you all, and I look forward to some good, long, lazy conversations when I come up for air in three weeks.

Many blessings!

Happy Earth Day, everyone!

Go out and appreciate creation!
Bike or walk instead of drive.
Eat some local food.
Plant a tree!
Hug a tree!
Thank people who give you crap for being a "hippie, liberal granola"! (Yes, it happens even here in Missoula.)
Calculate your ecological footprint!
Minimize your ecological footprint today!
Read Psalm 104 or 148.

Wish me luck as I attempt to do some marathon grading and bust through the 20 remaining argument essays this afternoon . . .

I'm happy because I found out yesterday that I got a scholarship. It's not too much, but every little bit helps. I also found out that I'm one of the substitute assistant market masters for the Farmers Market this summer. I get to fill in for the assistant market masters if they're gone, or I get to help out when the Market gets busier in July and August. Now for a job to keep me occupied during the week . . . wish me luck in that department, too.

Onward and upward!

ENERGY!

I just had a fantastic class! Some days I feel that I'm scarcely teaching, that I ought to be doing more, somehow, but today I felt such good energy spilling into the classroom. I began by reading some Wendell Berry poetry (thank you, Jacob, for illuminating me with the knowledge of more Mad Farmer poems!)--"The Mad Farmer's Love Song" & "The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer"--perhaps it's show-offy of me, but I really enjoy reading aloud to my students. I have to have some fun as a teacher, after all. And they seem to enjoy it.

Then we talked about revision modes and methods, and one of my students asked me to define "show not tell," which is rather difficult to do--really, it is a skill that must be practiced, must be shown, not told, not defined. But I did my best, and my students seemed to be following what I was saying or trying to say. At the end of class, one of my students asked, "So what showing is, is presenting the details to the readers and letting them come up with their own conclusion?" And I looked at him and thought, Wow, you just said in one sentence what I've been trying to say for the past 20 minutes. Aloud I said: "Yes, Gary, that's it exactly. Don't tell us what to think--give us the evidence and let us make our own conclusions." I looked around at my students, and I could see by their expressions that they got it, that they understood, and it was beautiful because it was one of the students who said so clearly what I was getting at--and once he'd said it, there was nothing more for me to say, so I ended the class.

Is this why it's so wonderful to be a teacher--simply being able to watch your students come to the point of understanding new ideas, to see the knowledge illuminating their faces? To be the catalyst to their learning?

O beautiful day.

Hump Day

Yes, it is Wednesday again, and I am glad for it. My Mondays and Tuesdays always seem so weighed down, but my class schedule lightens in the latter half of the week. This past weekend I was also working hard on an essay I should have been working hard on all semester, and I turned in the first draft last night. It is not brilliant by any means, but I like it. Writing it, I felt for the first time in a long time that I was creating something that has a purpose, that is going somewhere. This essay is taking on a life of its own, and I'm excited to see where it goes.

Tonight I am going out for dollar sushi and then to a concert-- David Boone and Tom Catmull--with my friend Jacob. This will be the third time in my life that I've had sushi, the fourth time I've heard David Boone, and the fifth time I've heard Tom Catmull. It should be a good evening--have I mentioned how much I love the Missoula music scene?

Last night I went to the Old Post and had Moose Drool and nachos for the first time in three weeks. Three weeks without Old Post nachos--well, it's not something that should ever happen again. There is an EVST joke about how quickly Teresa and I can put away a plate of nachos . . . we are pretty talented when it comes to devouring good food. Mmm, nachos.

I think I will post here the ending of my essay. I'm not sure that I'll keep it as the ending (it depends on how the essay itself develops and changes), but I like it. It's been raining every day this week, and the grass is turning green and the buds are appearing on the trees . . . spring is coming!

My essay is on communion, and Iowa, and manna from heaven . . . and unknown other topics, to be discovered in the next few weeks. Enjoy.

It is raining today, a quiet, washing spring rain. I heard it in those first moments of consciousness early this morning, heard it dripping on the roof, heard the water-muffled sounds of traffic outside my window, saw the gray dim light spilling into my bedroom. I walked out into the day, into one of the first rains of spring, and felt the cold drops on my cheeks and nose and hair. The grass will turn green now, and other flowers will pop up to join the fallen bits of crocus color that lie scattered on my neighbors’ lawns. And perhaps, along with the rain, sweet white flakes will come drifting down from heaven, falling down to rest on the glistening grass, and I will pick them up, filling my hands with what I need for the day and no more. My neighbors, too, will be out on their lawns, marveling at this gift from the sky. We will kneel to scoop it up; we will smile at one another across the street and over the fence. We will bring our brimming hands to our mouths, and the flakes will melt on our tongues, will be washed down with raindrops.

Spring Break Procrastination

My break is here, and I have loads of work to do, but not much is getting done. Why is motivation lacking when I need it the most? Why must my personal life get complicated when I need to focus on schoolwork?

I have been thinking about choices lately. I make so many choices daily--most of them little ones, I guess--and I am used to taking responsibility for my choices. For instance, do I mark research essays or go out to eat with friends? If I go out to eat, then the work load piles up for later--but I know that it is my choice, my doing, and I will live with the consequences. I've made some choices lately that I'm not sure about--that is, I'm not sure what the results will be. Funny how some things seem so lovely at the time and in retrospect I wonder what on earth I was thinking. And yet the choice has been made and I must live with the result, and if I am hurt in the process it is because of the decision that I made.

Taking responsibility for one's actions is a little scary sometimes.

I have also been getting periodic updates from a woman in my church in Sioux Center. She is pregnant, and her baby has been diagnosed with spinal bifuda (I think that's right . . . ), so she is undergoing special treatments in Nashville. She sends out an email update once or twice a week, and, despite the uncertainty and scariness of her situation, her faith in God is unwavering. She fully trusts that He is in control and is taking care of her and her baby and her family. Her faith humbles me and gives me hope at the same time. And I look at my life here, and the choices I am making, and I wish I had her faith and certainty. I wish, too, that I had as many people praying for me as she does--and then I think of all of you, all my friends wherever you may be, and I know that you are praying for me, as I am praying for you. That, too, is both humbling and hopeful.

I am experiencing so many new things here in Montana. The ways people think are so different--I am coming across myriad new ideas and worldviews. I am glad for this, but at the same time I am challenged. Challenged to consider these new perspectives; challenged to test them against long-held beliefs; challenged to fit new and old together in a way that makes sense; challenged to be faithful while simultaneously trying to define just what 'faithful' means. Challenged. I am glad for the challenges, but at times (such as now) I want to step back from them all and simply rest.

Today I called my friend Lindsay here in town, and we had tea and then took a walk in Rattlesnake Canyon with her two sons. Seth is only three months old, so I carried him in a baby carrier against my chest, and he slept the whole time, his few pounds no burden, his warmth comfortable in the coolness of the afternoon. Lindsay carried Corin in a child backpack, and we walked amongst the Ponderosa pines, inhaled the fragrance of the air, heard the water of the creek splash against the rocks, and talked; for those few hours I was able to step back and rest from the challenges and confusions of my life and simply enjoy the beauty of Montana.

The sun is setting now, and dusk is falling over the valley. It is a beautiful day, a beautiful evening. And my homework is calling to me, threatening to crash down upon me if I don't start working on the pile soon. So enough procrastination for now . . .