Cory Branan's Easy

Song #11, working for me well right now. Here are the lyrics:

It was like a dream
Starring you and me
And the cool blue shade
Of a lemon tree
And I didn't think
The whole thing through
And we both know
That's hard for me to do

But it was easy
It was easy with you

Time built up my border lines
Till I'd forgotten where I laid the mines
If someone got close the whole thing blew
So sure no one would ever make it through

But it was easy
It was easy for you

Still my restless mind sometimes kicks and quakes
'Till I amaze myself with my mistakes
She said "Nobody ever walks no ocean. Nobody parts no sea.
If you really wanna know devotion, take heart in me.
And my belief in you. baby I believe in you."

And it eased me
It eased me
It eased me through

I'm walkin' here!

Given my central housing location, I have been trying to counter balance my current 100 mile daily commute to work by exercising my pedestrian right-of-way. I walk to meet friends for dinner, I take the train uptown for events, and I even walk to the grocery store. For the most part, it's been working well. I get lots of extra exercise, build muscles while hauling bulging bags of food, and enjoy the wonderful weather. The recent grand opening of the "midtown" Trader Joe's has added joy to my efforts. Not only is it closer than the Harris Teeter, but it's cheaper as well. Today, I finally made the journey to what I hoped would be my new, more easily accessible food haven.

I believe this infamous clip best captures my experience: Midnight Cowboy I'm walkin' Here (warning on the language)

As my beloved neighborhood continues to city-fy itself, much more planning and considerations need to be made or I will be cashing in on some insurance (Yeah, crosswalks don't mean jack to this car-lovin' town). Luckily, $8.43 and several "I'm walkin' here" survivals later, and I'm sitting here with a small pile of goodies for upcoming meals and this sweet addition to my reusable bag collection (which I got for free...cash in that mailer, folks!)

Though risk was involved, I'm going to keep trying out my new grocery adventures and just pray that the rest of Charlotte catches up and slows down. :)

Habits of Home

On a pretty much daily basis, I do the exact same things within the first five minutes of walking in my front door. I sling my bag into it's proper place, drop off lunch bag/dishes/coffee mug in kitchen, and completely change into "comfy clothes." I mean I can't kick off my shoes, derobe, and redress fast enough. And it hit me today how odd this might be and I thought, "Does anyone else do this? No, I'm just weird." For instance, I walked in right at 5:00 p.m. today and now, at 5:06 I am sitting on the couch writing this in full comfy gear, which I will probably wind up sleeping in. It's not enough close to dusk and I'm in pajamas! And I do it almost everyday.

That got me thinking when and where this habit of home was formed. Two words: my mother. Queen of comfort, I watched my mom do this exact same daily ritual for 30 years now. Thanks, ma! I'm a freak. But there is something about this habit that makes me feel like the day has been left behind. The stress of class or the hard work of a project all seem to melt away when I toss my clothes into the laundry basket and slither into the calm of a tattered t-shirt and stretchy pants.

So I am now wondering what habits of home others may have...

Finally looking up in the world

(From: http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/ama/lowres/aman209l.jpg)

I am pretty tall for a girl. I often find myself looking down at or over people, particularly in my family. I am what one might call "the milkman's baby" because I am taller than almost all of my family members and have been so since about age eleven. Not really sure where I get, but it looks like another family member also possession some tall genes.

As most know, I have two half siblings--my 18 yr. old sister and my soon to be 14 yr. old brother. Because they are so much younger than me, I have enjoyed watching them "grow up" from the perspective of a parent more so than a sister. So when Sis was growing up, I always knew what she was going through--all the interesting and wonderful moments of girl-dom. Nothing was really unexpected, particularly her height. She was always pretty tiny and I knew she was going to be a petite thing, just like my stepmom. However, my brother has been a whole different story. Not being a boy, I didn't know what all to expect as he grew older, so it's been kind of a wonder to watch. But yesterday, as we were walking the streets of downtown Raleigh after lunch, I was really thrown for a loop.

I had to look up at him. Whoa.

Granted, I have been his measuring stick for the past few years now--having always been the tallest in the immediate family--as he inched his way up. I know he has been waiting for the moment when he could claim the title for himself, and it looks like that day has finally come. The uneven sidewalks of Raleigh did give him some help, but it is official: my brother is taller than me.

I know the measure of a man does not solely lie in his height, but it was fun to watch him "own" his knew status with confidence and a sly smile...that he now directs down at me!

Humbled in Mt. Pisgah

I am typically a person who likes to lead, but this past Thursday I gladly followed this wonderful woman as we hiked Mt. Pisgah off the Blue Ridge Parkway. She is an amazing person and is in an amazing time in her life. I just wanted to honor her here and some of the beautiful views of N.C. mountains.

Oops, I did it again

No, no, not the Britney spears "did it again," but rather the Mary Kay version. What am I talking about? Well, per request of a very sweet friend of mine, I attended a Mary Kay party. I will pause now so that those who know me, may laugh uncontrollably.

It's not exactly "my scene," but I am a girl, I do where make-up and use skin stuff, and thought I would just go for it. I should not be allowed at these things because my critically reflective eye is on full alert at these things! I just sit there decontextualized and decoding all the jargon, pamphlets, language, behavior, etc. and have a hard time moving past the fact that we are sitting there feeding into what society tells us a woman should be, do, look like, and so on.

On the other hand, I do use some of these types of things (not Mary Kay brand) in an effort to take care of myself. It's quite perplexing for a person like me--sitting on my high horse of "this is all ridiculously silly" while also thinking "oh, I do need to work on the wrinkles around my eyes."

Ugh. It makes me sick that I am even posting about it, but there it is. I have gone to these before, experiencing the same internal tug-of-war. And yes, I did it again! Why do I do this to myself?

Writing into the day...

So at the UNC Charlotte Writing Project, we write ourselves "into the day". It's a time for us to sit, breathe, and use the act of composing to bring us into the moment. I've been writing into the day since summer 2005. I do it everyday in class with my students. I do it in almost every workshop or presentation I give. Here is what happens when we "write in":

The room is quiet or, if the audience is willing, music might be playing. Daybooks or laptops are out. Thoughts flow from all over the place, generally no prompt or idea of what to write about is given. Minds are free to wonder wherever is needed.

Sometimes I write about nothing. Sometimes I write about how happy, mad, curious, nervous, frustrated I am. Sometimes I write about how hungry I am. Sometimes I write about how much I hope what we do in class that day "works". It is a moment--to explore, to see, to think, to write.

I value these moments, though I'm not always sure why. Offered like an open hand, allowing me to hold or approach the day how I see fit.

What is my "tree within"?

Introduced to Octavio Paz's poem "A Tree Within" today. It's seems important (not really sure why) and I like the drawing this guy couples with the piece: http://www.incli-nation.com/2007/05/a_tree_within.html

Workout Playlist

Thought I would share what is keeping me moving during my workouts these days. Particularly enjoying the addition of M.I.A. For more ideas on playlists, I found this interesting site on Military.com Ain't gonna lie, I'm a little scared of the "Shoot to Thrill" title.


Bucky Done Gun M.I.A.
Fancy Footwork, Chromeo
Shook Me All Night Long, AC/DC
Pour Some Sugar on Me, Def Leopard
SexyBack, Justin Timberlake
U.R.A.Q.T. M.I.A.
Mr. Brightside, The Killers
Ray of Light, Madonna
The Way You Move, Outkast
Shut Up and Let Me Go The Ting Tings
Sweet Emotion, Aerosmith
I Bet You Look Good On the Dance floor, Arctic Monkeys
Runaway, Dee-Lite
The Valley, Duran Duran
Fergalicious, Fergie
Are You Gonna Be My Girl, Jet
Purple Haze, Jimi Hendrix
Dr. Feelgood, Motley Crue
Such Great Heights, Postal Service
Edge Of Seventeen, Stevie Nicks
Little Dawn, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
I Believe in a Thing Called Love, Darkness

Reunited and it felt so good

I recently visited my alma mater, East Carolina University. It was a quite strange experience, compared to my past visits, for two very important reasons: 1. I went for professional reasons (that word was not even in my vocabulary from '96-'00), and 2. I went without my girls (can I get a shout out to the ECU Women's Soccer Team?!).

I want to share my trip via pictures because I think it will capture it best. For my soccer girls, you will nod knowingly and laugh. For anyone else who has never visited Greenville or never attended ECU, well, you're just outta luck on this one!

First, getting to Greenville has never been easier, so I captured my excitement with the road signs that let you know...you are about to enter a part of N.C. that has nothing else, and I mean nothing, besides ECU.



Then I had time before checking in to take a quick tour and found some familiar landmarks. Note: tour lasted all of 10 minutes...ah, I remember thinking how big and far things were! Nope, Greenville Blvd., 5th St., 10th St., Memorial Dr., Evans, Arlington, Red Banks, and that's it!

THE Krispy Kreme (now within a block of a Starbucks). THE sleek new buses (that we hated b/c they were too slow and never came when there were supposed to, or we loved b/c they graciously waited to take us back to College Hill on certain nights). Speaking of the hill...

It's still really, really, really long. Was it the 4 mile loop that included this? Ugh.

Okay, back to our cute downtown. I only recognized three names: UBE, Boli's, and Alfredo's.

And good old Dowdy Ficklen, where I think I spent more time "snaking the stadium" than attending football games in it.

Where the glory began and ended. Still no lights. Still called Bunting. Still as close as one can get without actually being directly behind home plate of the baseball field..."Fly ball! Look out!!"

Despite all the things that have not changed, I was shocked at one thing that had changed. I am proud to say that Greenville is now serving more than just South Paw and Bud Light.

But no matter how much Greenville tries to change and join the modern world, it will still be the one and only G-Vegas. Go Pirates!

Movie Joy

I am a movie lover. As a subscriber to Netflix, I get very excited when I see one of the red envelopes poking out of my mail slot. "Yeah, I have a movie!" Usually, because I constantly add and rearrange my queue, I have no clue what movie awaits until I tear open the envelope and reveal the title. About a week ago Dan in Real Life, unknowingly waited for my viewing.

I remember when this movie came out in the theaters. Steve Carell was the big selling point for this movie, and given his success with "The Office" and other movies (Evan Almighty, Little Miss Sunshine, 40-year old virgin) I figured this movie would do well in the theaters. But as soon as I remember it coming out, it was gone. Yet, I clicked "add" and here it was, entering my DVD player.

As soon as the light, simple, kinda goofy-smiley feeling music of Sondre Lerche provided Dan (Steve C.) as he hops out of bed with "Yep, okay!" and begins the first scene of his widowed, single dad of 3 girls life, I knew I was going to dig this movie. A stellar, yet subtle cast (Juliette Binoche, Dane Cook, John Mahoney, Dianne West, and so on) was so inviting as the movie is based on the annual family get together at the grandparent's house. All seems like it will be a normal, loud, story and food-filled weekend until Dan meets Marie (Binoche) at a local bookstore, has one of those "I can't believe I'm telling you all this when I just met you" conversations, only to find out that she is...well, I won't give it away, though any previews you read may do just that, because I think this part is one of the best.

Steve's knack for perfect timing and add-libbing dialog ("This corn is like an angel") had me laughing out loud. Something I don't often do. The premise is that this movie is just like "real life," and we all know that most movies don't really pull that off. However, this one felt just like home and I imagine others would feel the same way. I watched it twice, all the special features and commentary, and purchased music from the soundtrack (Lerche is pretty much the main music guy and purposefully so). So rent it, Netflix it, whatever you do, go watch this movie. *Insert picture of me and two thumbs up

Writing Dilemma

Now that I have been trying this whole blogging thing for a while, ideas for potential blog topics zip through my mind all the time. Interesting to experience. Of course, given my short-term memory and inability (or desire) to be constantly connected, I forget them just as quickly as they zipped into consciousness. Here are some that have vied for some virtual space on Write to Enlight (obviously, none have made it there quite yet):

- Dan in Real Life: a review of a movie that made me laugh outloud. I think I officially love Steve Carell. This one will happen.
- Writer's block: for this article I'm working on...blah, blah, blah...what's new?!
- Guilt of a teacher: how we reconcile the "summer" and how we are off, but not really. Might be interesting.
- Taking care of yo' house: how and why I let various things in my apartment sit in a corner since I moved in Dec. No more!
- Sister love/hate: post lil sis graduation, week at home, realization of what it is really like to have a sister. Who knew? This one may be too personal for this space, though.

We'll see which ones make it! I just realized that in the time it took to write this blog entry about potential blog entries, I actually could have composed one. Aw shucks...

Story time at the dentist

I don't know. Maybe it's just me, but when I think of going to the dentist, story time does not come to mind. There are several service/appointment situations where I don't expect a lot of chit-chat conversation, but totally understand why it happens and why the service provider feels obligated to carry on a dialog of sorts. For instance, a haircut. Makes complete sense that a hairdresser sees fit to engage me in some sort of "are you from here?" or "what do you do?" conversation as he/she clips away. I'm sitting there, staring at myself as bits of hair brush my face . She's there staring at me as well, causing the bits of hair to brush down my face. Conversation, again, while not necessary, does seem appropriate and logical to make staring situation less awkward.

Another example, a massage. Now, this gets tricky and I fluctuate on conversation in this social service situation. On the one hand, good communication is often key to a good massage. I am appreciative of questions like "is that the right trouble spot?" or "would you like more pressure?" because it makes me feel like my needs are being met. On the other hand, I more often than not simply want to soak in the worldly nature music, soothing touch, and drift off into a silent oasis with Ms. Tara (that's my girl at Massage Envy...divine!).

So in most cases, while I am perfectly comfortable with silence, I can see a place for some sort of conversation. But this morning I was confronted with a situation that greatly perplexed me: a dental cleaning. We all know what that looks and feels like--mouth wide open with various metal objects and sucky things poking and prodding your teeth and gums. In no way shape or form would I consider this an appropriate situation for chit-chat, not to mention that it is physically impossible. Well, not only did my hygienist think it was appropriate to carry on and on about anything and everything in her life--her 9 yr. old and his political inquisitiveness, her 5 yr. old and her upcoming Build-a-Bear birthday drama, her boyfriend who is currently on a trip to Prague with his MBA students--but she paused, asked questions, and fully expected me to enter the conversation with her. Huh? Did I miss something?

But, in case I was curious, I now know what it is like to say the following with dental objects in one's mouth:
-- "Isheathenglishsheathers" = I teach English teachers.
-- "O. Idonaveanyshidren" = No. I do not have any children.
--(In response to 9 yr. old aspiring politician parts of her story) "A a. At'sunny" = Ha ha. That's funny.

What I really wanted to do was grab her hand and say, "Thank you so much for the polite discussion, but I actually CAN'T talk with that big metal hook in my mouth. So can we just get on with? Thanks!"

A little slice of hell in "The Golden State"

Picture yourself on vacation. Enjoying great food and company, taking in beautiful scenery, relaxing by the pool, and so on. What better way to enhance your vacation then to stop off for a little outlet shopping, right? Enter the experience of what I now deem "a little slice of hell on earth," a.k.a. Cabazon Outlets in Cabazon, CA. Don't be fooled by the picturesque desert mountains in the background. Oh, how the best made plans quickly foil! Here is a breakdown of the experience (and there is a silver lining, thankfully):

1. Enter the compound. Yes, it is a "compound;" as Frank, my partner in crime and driver (bless his little heart), can attest, one becomes sucked into the vacuum of psychotic consumerism upon entering the grounds of the Cabazon Outlets and slowly loses his/her sanity, soul, and sense of all things rationale.

2. Parking takes an act of the cosmos. As we zoomed, bobbed, and weaved our way through lot after lot--paved AND dirt, mind you--for a solid 30 minutes, we were about to give up. But my lovely driver was persistent. We took one final pass, and my eagle eye spotted some folks leaving a sort-of parking space train that had formed along the sidewalk. One quick and illegal U-turn later, with me encouragingly saying "do what you gotta do, I want that spot," we finally parked and made our way to the stores.

3. Walking. After maybe 3.5 minutes of trying to walk to one of only three stores we actually wanted to go in, Frank declared, and I concurred, that if a person comes to a dead stop in front of you in a crowd that resembles Times Square during the holiday season, you would be perfectly in your rights as a human to push them straight to the ground and then demand an apology for their apparent stupidity. Without much discussion, we moved to walking on the edges of the parking lot because we didn't think the rest of the crowd knew about our said rights. And violence and shopping really shouldn't mix.

4. Stores turn into clubs.

Shana: "I could use a new pair of jeans."

Frank: "Ya know, True Religion usually has great jeans."

Shana: "Cool, let's check it out." [Frank and Shana pause in front of store, look to their right and see what appears to be a line, look back and forth between store entrance and line.]

Shana (stunned): "Is that a line to get in??!!"

Frank: "Um, yeah, let's go."

That's a new one for me folks, waiting on line NOT to get into a snazzy new club but to buy trendy jeans. Wow.

5. Silver lining. Despite the crazy parking situation, despite the lack of walking etiquette, despite witnessing the ridiculous price consumers are willing to pay to simply enter a store, Frank walked away with a fly new Puma track jacket and I snagged some cool Puma sneakers and a quite sassy pair of Guess, peep-toe heels...all for a grand total of about $80 bucks.

And that's why we go to outlet hell--to test our abilities to stay sane amidst parking obstacles, our tolerance for mass quantities of humans all with about 100 different agendas, and somehow persist in order to find fabulously cheap new gear!

Baseball...and Babies?

I had not arrived in my home town for more than 3 hours when confronted with the question, "You got any kids?" As my brain asked, "I'm sorry, what," my head simply shook left to right and I slowly replied, "Nope, free as a bird, actually."

Now let me contextualize this most random question that I'm still laughing about this morning. My brother, 13 yr. old K, had a baseball game. It was a classic N.C. Wednesday evening setting: sun going down and a chill in the air, my dad in the dugout operating as the "assistant coach," my sister (18 yr. old J) and I wading through the front row inhabitants of the otherwise empty bleachers (they got there early so they could "get the good seats, dang it"), and a smattering of other parents, grandparents, girlfriends, coaches of other sports just there to say "hey" all dispersed in lawn chairs that are nicer and come with more amenities than my apartment. With Zaxby's chicken boxes, Pepsi bottles, and toys to entertain the younguns, the spectators were ready. Baseball games, even at this age, are long events. This leaves plenty of time for catching up with folks; thus, the conversation began that led to the previously mentioned question. My stepmom was chatting with a man I didn't know, but knew my family and thus knew me (you know how that works...people who know everything about you because your family tells them everything). The obligatory chat about how the kids are doing proceeded, and he turns to me, eying me and trying to decide if this gal who dwarfs my stepmom is J (my little sis) or me, the oldest that everyone knows about but rarely sees. After a quick confirmation that I was the oldest and, mind you, no other questions about where I live, what I do, nothing, I get "You got any kids?"

Of course he meant nothing by it, but don't we generally ask questions of folks we don't know in an attempt, even if just out of politeness and to abide social norms, to get to know them better? If this is true, I can't help but wonder why the kid question was what he deemed to be the question to ask next and get to know me better. Being obviously of parenting age, yet super single and a non-parent defined me in that moment for him. And that was it. I guess it just gave me a weird jolt because, in my world, there are so many other things that define me, which I'm perfectly content with. Yet, he seemed to, in a fleeting moment, make me feel oddly deficient in some way.

Hate when that happens.

The simple things

There are few things that make me happier than a good beer. I have loved Newcastle for quite some time now, attributing the start of my love to a course in England during the summer of 2001. Coming out of an undergraduate career at ECU leaves one with a, um, limited understanding of beer. Then I landed in Stratford, England and a delectable assortment of brown and frothy choices forced me to learn more than just Portia's lines from Julius Caesar. Old Speckled Hen, Boddingtons, Fullers, and the educational list goes on. I left the country, but vowed to take my new education with me.

When I returned home, I couldn't wait to sip a little England now and then and recall all my wonderful British memories. One problem: local watering holes were a bit more reflective of my ECU bev choices than my Stratford and London choices. Alas, I soon discovered the likes of Connolly's and RiRa's, Big Ben's and Sir Edmund Halleys. Newcastle and, a new Irish addition, Guinness became my official bevs of choice because they were the two most widely available on tap in these lovely establishments. And there is nothing better than these two loves on tap. I would have it no other way. A good Guinness pour is like a work of art. Heck, when done properly, you can create finger art in the beautiful chocolate head billowing over the edge of your pint glass. A Newcastle is different, but just as glorious--refreshing and clean.

Yet, I wasn't happy with this limited relationship. I wanted to have the choice of walking to my fridge to sample my new loves now and then.

In an effort to be more widely enjoyed, Guinness has attempted to deliver it's wonderfulness in alternative forms (can and bottle), which is noble but just not the same as a wood bar top and a fresh pour. Newcastle, on the other hand, has always had a bottle version. I had grown accustomed to the bottle version. Good. Satisfying. However, as with any relationship, it often becomes hard to make things "new," but my love has found a way to do just that.

Enter Newcastle cans.

A fellow Newcastle lover and I, a brisk N.C. night on a porch, and a new joy emerged. The can offers a whole new layer to our now 7 year relationship. Through some experimenting, I recommend putting the sleek six-pack (currently $6.50 at the HT) in the freezer for a bit to truly enjoy and honor the "serve cold" logo.

Most of the time, "beer in a can" is just that. Yet, I have discovered a whole new meaning to the term as I held this perfectly shaped black can and savored the as-close-to-tap product inside. Chalk this one up to the list of simple things that make me smile. I will put this one right next to my fav jeans and fav "Have a Coke and a Smile" t-shirt. Ahh....

A long time coming

In an effort to revamp some writing in this space, I'm titling this entry "A long time coming." There are many things that are "a long time coming" in my life right now. Some I haven't realized until this very moment, so forgive me for this slightly self-therapized entry.

A long time coming...

Rest: true rest for not only my body, but my mind and spirit as well. How do we get to this point of being so extended, so stressed, so exhausted that we don't function unless we're go, go, going 90 mph? I get to a point of not being able to say "no" for fear that I won't be perceived as a hard worker. If I don't go to every function, if I don't take on every project, then I'm not a good person, teacher, professional, etc. Ridiculous. I'm over it. I am breathing, consciously enjoying a time of rest that is a long time coming.

Realization: I could argue that all of my entries have something to do with "realization," but, as of late, my understanding of realization has been on a new level. I've received some life-realizations. Realizations of where home is/is not, of what I want, of who I am. It's nice. It's a long time coming. I am thankful.

Confidence: as a self-proclaimed independent and confident woman, I didn't realize how non-confident I have been living my life. Recent experiences of being surrounded by those who love me, laugh with me, appreciate various aspects of me (that haven't been seen in a while), were nothing short of spiritual bliss. A beaming and truly confident me has been a long time coming.

Me: it is both a sad and happy moment when I realize how un-me I have been and for how long. Ugh. The saddest part is that I didn't know. I didn't know that I haven't been sharing my giant Jolie-esque smile. I didn't know that I haven't been affectionate, loving on those I love. I didn't know how much I have been hiding, down-playing, hesitating. Now for the happy part of this: I'm back. Inexplicably and effortlessly, the me I had forgotten is back. Sassy, sensual, simple me is back. Can I get an amen...hmm, now that has been a long time coming!

A long time coming, all this has been. A long time to stay, I hope this will be.

Sometimes it's so nice to meet yourself again.

Hints of spring...

There is something magically, amazingly, fantastically spiritual that happens to me when the weather is warm. Random days of sun and clear skies are like taking a shot of mega vitamins or something. Makes me thankful. Makes me smile. Makes me move off the comfort and warmth of the couch that I hunker down in for the winter and forces me to go and see what's going on in the world.

So I say thanks, Warm Day. I love your hints of spring that rained on us today.

Now ending the day on a balcony, in flip-flops and my hippy shirt, with a beer and good company. Ahh...life is good.

Analysis Paralysis

Where and when, exactly, does one learn to over analyze? I mean, I don't recall anyone particularly over thinking things as I grew up or constantly asking me, "Now have you thought about this or that", but here I sit, a 30-year old woman, who quite possibly could (and often does) spend hours thinking and re-thinking the most minute things to the point of paralysis. Now, does being an analytical thinker have its pluses? Absolutely. I am glad that I don't just walk through my world, blindly and compliantly nodding and accepting everything with no brain or input of my own. However, these fits of analytical thinking that occur are quite annoying and potentially sabotaging--to my confidence, my relationships, my sanity. Now that is not acceptable.

So I just want to know when Analysis Paralysis entered my psyche and when, I pray, it may leave. Maybe I need to meditate. Maybe I need to drink. Maybe I need to pray more. See, I'm doing it as I even think of ways to help me NOT do it. Grrrrr.....

Well, onward and upward, I resolve to write and just hope that all will love and accept me, over analyzing self and all.

Costa Rica Rewind Part 3

New Year's Eve Sunrise (12-31-07)

While sitting out on our quaint balcony, sipping my new favorite coffee, the following was written...

"Sunrise, sunrise, looks like morning in your eyes"
~Norah Jones

Hey God, I like what you've done with the place, quite impressive actually. A bright glow eagerly creeps over the mountain to the left of our balcony. It is not a gentle glow, asking if I am ready to arise for the new day, but rather a beacon of light, demanding I recognize the presence of new opportunities that the bright glow is offering.

Eyes that were groggy are now somehow enveloping the new scenery with warmth and glee. Yoga awaits...more new awakening ensues...

Costa Rica Rewind Part 2

We have arrived at Pura Vida Wellness Retreat and Spa

Rememeber...
...saying "Hablo Espanol un poquito" (I speak a little Spanish) and the Pura Vida director/guide at the airport took this to mean we were fluent, so off to the Spanish races we went. We resolved to just say "no" next time.
...the stick shift, bumpy drive through tiny streets where everyone had the "right of way"
...our new friend, Kim (below), we met on the ride to Pura Vida, who does "hard core yoga" (a bit of a contradiction in terms, que no?)













...our new BFF, Jorge, who graciously gave us a room with a ridiculous view and a nice rub on the back. Oh, and remember our Dirty Dancing moment when we stumbled upon his, the staff's, living quarters (hee hee)










...our wonderful first meal (of many we had this week) in the tranquil dining area, and an interesting Body Talk workshop/demonstration with Katia, one of the therapists.
...but mostly, I just want to remember to be thankful.

Pura Vida!







P.S. When I wrote this journal entry, I weaved my writing around our "Bienvenidos/Welcome" name tag sticker we received at the airport. I tried to honor and represent that in this post, so that's the reason for the interesting text and image organization.

Costa Rica Rewind

Since C.R. is not the most developed place on the planet, I did journal throughout my amazing trip. I will attempt to give a rewind and recap of each of those entries throughout the next week.
12-30-07 On plane to Costa Rica
I think we are flying over the Caribbean Ocean or maybe it's the Gulf of Mexico. Either way, all I see is blue, sprinkled with faint puffs of white cloud. Either way, it's an amazing view. Jack Johnson is buzzing through my popping ear drums. I am ready to hear the best words, "Folks, we are beginning our descent." Then, I can really get excited and really almost pee my pants in anticipation.

There's a guy sitting in front of me that has the nicest set of jet black curls I've seen in a while. It's short enough to avoid a fro, but long enough to get a slight twirl around one's finger. Think he would min if I took a quick stroke through it? Probably not appropriate in this setting, but a funny thought.

I've been thinking a lot about what is/is not appropriate in life. Particularly in anticipation of thi trip See this is the kind of trip where you want to throw caution to the wind and let appropriate see its way out. This is a place, I anticipate, where I need not worry--worry about what I will do or wear or think for the next 6 days. We'll see how that works out. I'm sure mi amiga will approve and support any "inappropriateness" I may conduct. Ciao for now...I'll get back to writing once in C.R.