Shoveling Down the Greens

Everyone seems to be coming up with a word for the new year. Intention. Forgiveness. Listening. I'm no good with following through on things long-term (hence, the six year gap in posts on this blog) unless I really take them to heart--or they feed and clothe me. But one word has kept popping up throughout the past week--from the moment the valley first revealed herself to me coming around that rugged pass, to the basketball I played in honor of the kids who grew up in Manzanar on their deserted white dust court, to the many, many truckers I passed or gave way to as I shared the road with them over 1,000+ miles. Respect.  Sometimes, I think, being a Northeasterner makes me too anxious to give a situation the respect it deserves. We're always in such a hurry. We're competitive. We've been hardened by blizzards and a New York Napoleon complex and navigating old cow paths that make no sense to anyone but us (but, god forbid, should an outsider make a mistake and need to cha

My eyes really didn't know what to do with themselves today. I don't know about you, but 2020 hasn't been a year to turn off. It's rare to just sit and look at something without a task at hand: texting, typing, watching, plotting, reading subtitles. To just sit and stare at this canyon...I had to mentally whack myself to keep from reaching for my phone, a snack, thinking about where I wanted to visit next, how long I wanted to stay in the park, if my mask was in place, etc. It wasn't the canyon's fault. My god. She's such a thing of beauty, I almost hesitated to walk up to the first fence. My heart was so full of wonder not just at the size, but the years--the centuries and epochs and massive weather extremes--it took to carve her land. And it's not like I hadn't seen beauty all the live-long day. The drive from Vegas to the Grand Canyon is just plain fun, especially on a sunny day. (Do they even have non-sunny days out this way?) The journey starts

Last night, I fought sleep. Endlessly mulling: what is this trip? Is it a vacation? Is it an existential journey? A combination of both--or neither? My number one trait on Strengthsfinder is strategic; I'm a natural born plotter, constantly crafting workarounds to get to the finish line. But, for some reason, with this trip, I'm having a hard time even seeing the tape. It was all so clear in the summertime: meet friends in the National Parks. Then covid stripped the friends from the equation. Now, winter weather and lost permit lotteries have stolen half of said parks. Fear and some self-recognition have helped me make it to the weekend. I may as well have tossed my famous color-coded itinerary into the fire. Where do we go from here?   Christmas five years ago was a similar panic. The first after my parents split. I remember trying to drag the tree up the basement steps, but the box was too big for my freakishly child-sized hands. Dry cardboard on small palms. I couldn't g

I wish I had some life-altering revelation to share with you today, but, really, I just took a bath. Bubble, of course. It was hot and deep and glorious. (Don't get any ideas.) I started Lovestruck in the City and am hoping the surf scenes are a sign of things to come. Taking my covid test in the morning and if the results go my way...I'll be Honolulu-bound on Tuesday! Disney will always be there, but for some reason the flights to Orlando were not. I don't know if JetBlue has pulled back--it's suffering for sure. But that, paired with the cost of the hotels on property, quickly set my heart a Googling, and Hawaii has been a spiritual home for me for years. Remember how hard it was for me to connect to the land in Lone Pine? Complete opposite. Imagine a lush playground you can stroll and tumble along until you feel like taking a long float in a clear green sea. That's my Hawaii.  If anyone else has huge travel banks waving their little hands, shouting, I'm stil

Going from the valley to the strip is like a personal ice bucket challenge. In four days, I interacted with a handful of people. In one hour, I've walked among hundreds. Inside, outside, inside fake outside...  This place is surreal--and so bright. Last night, from the tranquility of my room high above the gambling fray, the frenzy of lights was romantic. Like watching a winter storm from the safety of a warm house. Stepping into the ruckus today, it wasn't long before I got caught in the feathers of a flamingo dancer (I thought I could limbo that situation but I'm not as limber as I'd hoped), stupidly turned circles to exit a swarm of bachelor parties, and made evil eyes at an evil couple who just couldn't keep six feet away while waiting in line at the Bellagio. (Yes, I realize my attraction is potent, but if you could just hang tight, we'll all see the Chinese garden in due time.)  I hesitantly tapped my foot to the water show (Billy Jean), took pics of the

Nine years ago I made one of the worst decisions of my life. To run a 10-mile race at 10:00 p.m. in 80-degree weather and 100% humidity after eating...a quiche. (You can guess where this is going.) It was Disney World's first (and last?) Tower of Terror Ten Miler. Running for my favorite ride in my favorite pink tutu with my favorite person cheering me on from the sidelines. Three miles deep and I was good. I got this. I hadn't trained very much, but fresh from the half marathon, I thought, cool cool cool. Keep going.  And then. The quiche. Tears and sweat were indistinguishable in the port-a-potty. All I knew was I had paid $200+ and I was not going to quit. Three hours later, I straggled over the finish line, drained and dehydrated. Everyone around me was throwing up. My brother even got sick--and he made great time. And, yet, there was my Liz. Shining and smiling and having the night of her life while waiting for me. She rode rides, ate snacks, even witnessed a proposal--whi

The mountains are calling and I must go...home. I've felt unsettled from the moment I hit the valley, and have been chasing my tail all week. (Yes, I know it's only been four days, but solitude magnifies everything.) What am I doing here? Why does this place make me feel so small and terrified between the moments when I'm tucked safely in the car, the silence pummeled into submission by my Spotify? Did I make the right choice? Why is this so hard?   Can I go the distance? I think, technically, I can. I'm able-bodied, have read Eat, Pray, Love , have taken the month off from work. But, rationally, I don't think I want to. Not alone. And, as Niamh said today, I need to give myself the permission to create that boundary for myself. This land is too vast for a Calico Critter like me. Of the three bedrooms in the AirBnB, this Goldilocks chose the coziest, with just enough room for a bed and two nightstands. In my apartment back home, there isn't a wall free from phot