August..and the summer is passing fast

It's always a surprise to me just how fast the summer goes by. The morning chill in the air reminds me that fall is coming fast.
My desk continues to pile up with the must do's before September gets here. Hopefully the must do's won't turn into the 'shoulda dones'.

Funny story of the day..

So I ended up bringing Katie in to Urgent Care for her sunscreen rash. The nurse is taking all the vitals..you know..temperature..blood pressure..etc...then asks.."Do you have any allergies"...Katie laughs and says, "Uh...yeah..that's why I'm here?!"
LOL

Just workin...

So far the week has been relatively quiet. I've been spending the mornings with Mark at the plant, primarily working out back, 'catching shirts'. Picture a conveyer belt with printed t-shirts coming down it...I 'catch them' at the end, stack them, then fold them neatly, box them up and ship em' out. When I am not catching shirts, I am working the trim tables in embroidery. When the shirts come off of the embroidery machines they need to be trimmed..of loose threads, backings etc. I know what you are thinking, a glamorous job indeed. Yeah, not really, but I do get to wear jeans and a t-shirt...soooo..I'm happy!
Hmmm..the whole thing makes me think of this week's sermon from church. Gordon Ruddick, one of our elders did the teaching. He covered Romans 12:3-8, with particular focus on vs 4-8. You know the passage where it talks about all of the individual members of the body functioning together to fulfill a common purpose (okay, that was loosely translated I know). I am reminded that although my simple tasks at work this week will not gain me any notable praise, they were in fact vital to the flow of the workplace. Just as the smallest task that God would ask anyone to carry out is vital to His purposes being fulfilled.

Our Kayak Adventure

We had a great time this afternoon kayaking down the Willamette River. Katie and I were in one kayak and Daniel and Mark in the other. Both boats were 'packin heat', which means we were carrying water guns. About midway into our ride the boys fired a warning shot over the bow of our kayak. Katie returned their warning shot with one of her own, which didn't quite make it over the boat. The battle began and before long we were all drenched and laughing hysterically while trying to keep the boats upright! We finally had to declare a truce. We navigated through a couple of class 1 rapids, which basically means we said, "Wheeeee" as we went through them. All and all...a glorious day!

Why I ride the way I do....

Tonight was yet again another opportunity for us to get out and ride our bikes. The temperatures were ideal in the high 70's with a light breeze blowing which made riding along the river most comfortable. Someone once asked basically, "When you ride do you ride fast or is it a more leisurely pace?" I guess my answer would have to be...both. It really depends on what the purpose of our rides are. Sometimes I ride my bike up to the grocery store to pick up a few things. I'm not out to set any speed records or reap any health benefits, I'm simply riding because for that purpose it is the most efficient means to the end. Other times I ride for pleasure, meandering along the bike paths or through our neighborhood, just for the shear pleasure of soaking up some sunshine. Then there are the times that I want to ride to make my "quads" scream and beg for mercy. Tonight was to be that kind of a ride.
It started out with a quick stop at Subway for a small 'fuel up'. We set out single file heading for the river path. It wasn't long before Katie's pace slowed and she confessed that she just wasn't feeling that good. So the "ride til you feel pain" adventure..would have to wait until another day. So..plan B. I pulled out the little digital camera from my cinch sack and proceeded to just have fun. I have included some of the pictures here and you can see more on my Flickr photo page.

Not compatible...but there is still JOY!

So apparently our bank failed to investigate the compatibility issues between their new and enhanced website and Mac computers. What does that mean for us? It means I pull out my accounting 101 textbook and sharpen my pencil. Yeah...I'm not very happy. Oh, but I do have joy. Our friend Rick Rollema used to tell us, that your happiness usually comes from your happenstances, however your Joy comes from remembering to keep your life focused on the following J- Jesus, O-others Y-yourself. If we can look at life in that order we will always have JOY. :-D

Tech Support for Dummies..

I guess maybe that would be me. A 'dummy' for believing that I might actually get somewhere with tech support today. I spent no less than 2 hours combined between the customer support line at my bank and the tech support chat line for my financial software. Neither seems able to tell me why, after the bank upgraded and 'enhanced' their website, I am no longer able to download my transactions. I consider myself pretty adept at most of this techy stuff, but seriously I'm dumbfounded. Could I really be the only bank customer that is experiencing this problem following the change? So here I sit, staring at my blank checkbook...(I stopped recording check numbers long ago}...trying desperately to figure out whether or not my electricity is going to suddenly be turned off tomorrow due to a bounced check. Okay, maybe it's not THAT bad. I generally have some idea of my balance, but with the invention of check cards and online banking my two years of accounting classes at the university pretty much went into hibernation. I believe I may have to poke the sleeping bear though, as I have pretty much have lost all hope that either the bank or the software company will be able to help me anytime soon.

Oh the people you meet..

When you have a yard sale. This past weekend I held a yard sale. I had spent weeks piling stuff in the corner of my garage to the point where my van and then finally Katie's car had to sleep outside. Finally a free weekend opened up and I was able to at last try to free myself of the excess debris. I was quite certain that while to me most of what I had to sell really was of little use, to someone else it would be just what they were looking for.

I advertised my sale in the paper and made sure to note the start time 8 a.m. At 7:45 I glanced out the front window and noticed that cars were already starting to line up. "Wow! I must have great stuff." I thought. I moved our cars out of the driveway at 7:50 and at precisely 8 a.m. I opened the garage door to the waiting throngs. Most didn't even wait for the door to raise all the way up. Then like a midwestern dust devil they whirled through the sale. One stopped directly in front of me, pulled out a note pad then quickly went down her list. "Do you have a garden hose, curtains, dustbuster, pillows." She never even stopped to take a breath. I didn't have anything from her list so off she went. I believe I detected a bit of disgust as she walked down our drive.

I started noticing some patterns in the people who visited my yard sale. I have come to the conclusion that this genus, the "Yard-saler", actually has some pretty diverse species. Beginning with the "List carrier", the one who is completely organized and has perfected her system. She will pour over the papers for the garage sale listings, then she will map out her course, make her list (never to be deviated from), and have everything waiting in the car the night before to get the earliest start. She will most likely be the first person to cross your threshold. She is not to be ignored.

The next can be as equally demanding. This is the antique dealer or the reseller. They are looking for a find. They are assuming you will sell Aunt Bessie's prize quilt for next to nothing. They will act as if what you have is of no real value and will tell you they would be doing you a favor by taking it off of your hands. Just a little editorial on my part, if someone shows up at your yard sale almost before it opens, singles out an item then tells you they would be doing you a favor by buying it; kindly pick up the item, apologize for the confusion, "One of my kids must have brought this out accidentally", then get thee to an appraiser!

You will most certainly receive a visit from the interior decorator. This is the young woman or man who is looking to update their apartment. They have a creative eye and can turn that old beat up dresser into a work of art. These you really must appreciate for they are artistic yet frugal.

We mustn't forget the family of 12 who will rifle through every item of clothing on your tables as if they were in Filene's basement. Leaving a wake of destruction in their paths and finally settling on 3 shirts for 75ç.

But perhaps my favorite of them all is the "life story" yard-saler. When I say they are my favorites, I mean that with all sincerity. These are the folks that really don't have need for anything, but they have nothing better to do with their Friday or Saturday mornings. They will drive aimlessly around their local neighborhoods in search of an open garage with a sign out front that basically invites them to stop by. I have found that usually they are retired. They have raised their families and now look forward to the occasional call or visit from the grandkids. They will linger over the tables picking things up and putting them down all the while telling stories of their kids' first books or toys or favorite clothing item. They will share stories of their years in the military or their first jobs picking berries. They will talk as long as you will give them an ear to listen. Sometimes you'll hear of those they have lost and will see the glisten of a tears in their eyes. Eventually the tables of stuff fade away and you are for the moment walking the streets of their memories and seeing it all unfold. They are great story tellers for they are telling their own stories. There is no need for embellishment. Yes, these are my favorite for they remind me of what is important in life. It is not the knick knacks that end up scattered on yard sale tables. It is the time we spend with others. Sometimes doing nothing more than just listening.

To tattoo..or not to tattoo...

That is the question....

Actually the question should be..."Whose tattoo is it?"


So..the answer is....it's Katie's!
Okay and now for the explanation. A group of my running friends were looking for visual reminders to help us with our commitments to run and eat healthy and continue with our weight loss goals. One of the gals suggested we draw Sharpie tattoos somewhere on our hand where we could easily see them. We all got on board and soon were discussing what our tattoos would be. Some gals just simply put "4 ME", others put their weight goal numbers, some put flowers. I chose to draw a small heart with the number 20 in the middle. (20 lbs to lose), on my left hand on the top side just below my left thumb. When Katie saw me making mine she inquired about it and then said, "I want one"...she chose a butterfly. I'm not sure if a mother tattooing her daughter is something that a person should brag about, but a mom hanging out with her teenage daughter and having fun..yeah..I'll take it! While the tattoo may not be permanent, the memories are!

My Kind of Day!

So today is one of those days I would deem perfect.  I was able to swim laps, ride my bike and get in a long walk (next time it will be a run). I thrive on  activities that cause me to get out and get moving. The rainy weather seems to last so long here that I feel compelled to fill every clear day with being outdoors.  What made it ideal was that during each of these things I was joined by either my kids or my husband or both. I am thankful that my children, albeit sometimes begrudgingly will honor my wishes to have them with me. I am grateful that my husband after a very long day at work will jump on a bike and ride for 2 hours, because he knows it will make me smile.  Today I was spoiled with kindness from my family.  It was my kind of day.

 

Speaking of friends...

We are so grateful for the friends that we have recently made over this past year.  Yesterday we were invited to the home of our new friends the Smiths.  We were introduced to the game Beyond Balderdash.  What a fun game that really challenges your creative thinking processes.  

Thoughtful hosts, tasty food, and lots of laughter..the finer things in life for sure!

Friendship...

I started off writing this entry with the mindset of sharing how hard it is to have friends leave and the feelings of unfairness that their exits evokes. Somewhere in the middle though, I found myself starting over as my thoughts trailed down a different path.
A unique situation has presented itself recently. It appears that both my daughter and I will have friends going off to new adventures this year. Katie has friends who have graduated from high school and will be starting the next phase of their lives in various cities at different colleges. I have a close friend whose husband has accepted a job out of the area and will be moving very soon as well. 

In my life I have moved many times, I have said goodbye to cherished friends knowing that I probably will not see them again this side of Heaven. I should think it would get easier with each goodbye, but it doesn't. I have also experienced the unpleasant ache in the pit of my stomach when a friend has been taken away either by death or life's circumstances. Often my selfishness will question why at this particular time God would want to take this person out of my life, as if this person's moving or death was somehow about me. This is where my original post took a turn as I thought to myself, "Wow, what arrogance!" To suppose that somehow God's plan for my friend's life somehow revolved around me and my own desires. Sure, I will be affected and I will have sorrow, but it's NOT ABOUT ME.That's not to say that God doesn't care that I will be feeling hurt. Because He does. I do know however, in these times of drought are the times that God draws me closer to Himself.
I believe that God is intending to draw me closer once again only this time I shall have the company of my daughter. For the better part of Katie's life she has been on the other side of the equation. She has usually been the friend who has moved away. Because her moves have taken her to new places where she has met and made new friends, the effects of saying goodbye have not had to be felt quite as strong as being on the 'left behind' end of departures. She is venturing into unchartered territory this fall. While I, on the other hand, have experienced both sides of the spectrum.
Interestingly, I can foresee the chance to turn what will be a difficult time in both Katie and my lives into an opportunity for she and I to shoulder one another's sorrows. It is also an opportunity for the both of us to encourage our friends and be happy when they head off in response to God's direction or will. Our response should be to pray for our friends and for the paths that God is leading them down. To be thankful for the time, no matter how short, that we had to enjoy each other's company. To offer our assistance with whatever they might need to prepare for their move. To be servants.

....Cool

Today we had the privilege of hearing Justin Roper (Duck's quarterback) give his testimony. Very charming and humble guy. Katie says he looks like Peyton Manning. Our church had it's annual Golf tournament. Justin was the guest speaker during lunch. There were about 40 people who played. Sadly my shoulder injury prevented my playing this year, but the kids and I went for the lunch portion of the event and to hear Justin. It's always interesting to get an inside peak at what goes on..on the field and on the sidelines. I love hearing how the Lord works in the lives of some of these young athletes.

More Nostalgia...Aunty Lucky

If you are reading these posts you will notice that they appear backwards...you can scroll down and begin where it says Nostalgic if you wish.

This entry revolves around my Aunty Lucky. Her real name was June, but, for reasons that escape me now, we called her Lucky. She was my mother's youngest sister. Probably 10 or more years her junior. Aunty Lucky was around pretty frequently when the 7 of us were little. My mother was very young, only 17, when she married my father and thus became somewhat disconnected with her family, with the exception of Aunty Lucky. As the years drew on however, we eventually lost contact with Lucky as well, until years later when a strange twist of fate would once again usher her into our lives.
It was the summer of 1978. We were spending a week at a rented house at Salisbury Beach, before we packed all of our belongings into the back of a U-Haul to make our move to California. The house was just a short walk from the boardwalk where my siblings and I would spend the day eating cotton candy and playing arcade games. One early morning my younger brother and I headed over to the arcade with dimes in our pockets. We were going to play skeeball all day in hopes of finally earning enough tickets to buy one of the prizes on the top shelf.

A young woman in cut-off jeans and sandals came up beside my brother and started playing the game beside him. She commented on how good he was doing and how many tickets he had. She asked me if I was his older sister. I eyed her warily and responded with a yes. She then asked me what my mother's name was. When I didn't respond, she rephrased the question. "Is your mother's name Dolly?" My eyebrows raised and I prepared to grab my brother's arm and bolt. "It's okay" she said, "I am your mother's sister".

I hadn't remembered Lucky, it had probably been 8 years since I had seen her last. "Is your Mom here?" she continued. I nodded and we began walking back toward our vacation house. My parents were sitting out on the sand watching the older kids play in the surf. I remember it took my Mom a few minutes to recognize Lucky. It turns out, Lucky was renting a vacation home just a few over from ours.

Many of my mom's siblings had at one point in time or another been involved with the caring of horses, particularly race horses. True to most 12 year old girls I was a fanatic horse fan and would sit, mouth agape as Lucky would talk of her horses.
She asked my mother's permission to take me riding before we departed for California. We visited a local stable where Lucky was well known. She picked out a gentle brown mare for me and a beautiful black gelding for herself. She rode bareback. We rode through the trails behind the stables with her tenderly giving me instructions. I was in Heaven. We returned home that evening to Aunty Lucky's beach house where we dined on lobster. We slept on the floor and giggled and laughed until we fell asleep.

Growing up in a home with 6 siblings experiencing one on one time with anyone was minimal at best. Aunty Lucky had a way of making me feel important. By the time our week at the beach had reached it's end, she and I had become the best of friends. I hugged her tightly and we promised to write. Then we drove off in our family station wagon, my brother and I in the back seat waving out the window.

We had been in California for only a week when I received my first letter from my Aunt. She was back home in Kentucky living on a ranch and continuing to be courted by a man named Gary. She sent me a book of how to draw horses. I wrote her poems and stories and sent them to her often.

Photos began accompanying Lucky's letter's. Photos of the horses on the ranch and the polo ponies that she trained and the new foals of the season. Then the announcement of her and Gary's marriage. A simple ceremony by the justice of the peace.
I was so happy for her. Her letters soon contained plans to have me visit for the summer. Details of which horses I would ride. My anticipation mounted as my parent's agreed that I could go.

One day a letter arrived, thicker than the others I thought as I pulled it from it's envelope. It began with the usual salutations and questions of my schooling. Then the tone of the letter changed as my Aunt began to tell me of someone new who had entered her life. Someone named Jesus. Of course I was from a Catholic background and I knew who Jesus was, but not this Jesus that she described. She talked of making Him her Saviour. Of the inexplicable joy that she and Gary were experiencing since inviting Jesus into their hearts. How she prayed for me everyday and that she knew God had brought her to the beach that day so that she may one day pass on this wonderful news to me. She talked of their growing excitement to see me in the summer and how they would share all of this with me. I read and reread the letter. Often times confused. Some began to call my Aunt a Jesus Freak. I wish I had understood more.

Three days later a phone call in the very early hours of the morning woke us all from our slumber. I heard my father answer and then his words, "Oh God..." There began a flurry of activity. My mom began packing a suitcase. Dad was on the phone again, calling airlines. From my bed, I heard him tell my older brother, "Aunty Lucky was in an accident, she's dead". My brother responded, "Deanna's Aunty Lucky?" The words repeated over and over in my mind. She's dead. My mother came in my room and sat on my bed. Through tears she explained that it had been Gary on the phone. He explained to my mom that Aunty Lucky had been outside working in a ponding basin on the ranch. There was some type of malfunction on a pump, and my Aunt was electrocuted. My Aunt was just 26 years old and they had just learned that she was pregnant.

My mom flew back for the funeral. She met Gary for the first time. When she returned home she unwrapped some trinkets that Gary had sent along for me. Small horse trinkets that had belonged to my Aunt. I sat with them in my lap as I fingered the last letter my aunt would ever send me. The one where she talked of her new life with Jesus. I was angry and confused and grieving. What good had this Saviour been for her? But God, I love those words... But God. But God had plans for this wounded child. Plans that would not yet be revealed but were to come. Plans that began with a letter, a seed of hope, that would one day hold the meaning to total healing and to a renewed life.

Years later, I still have the letter and the trinkets. But more than that, I have her Saviour. I imagine the day I accepted Christ my Aunt rejoiced in Heaven alongside the angels. What a blessing to know that God had called her to Himself, knowing her appointed time and she had accepted His free gift. What a humble notion to think that God would then allow her time to send me one last letter. What an even greater blessing to know that someday we both shall stand together in the presence of our Lord.

Nostalgic...

Inspiration for writing can come from the most bizarre of places. Even just a simple exchange of conversations can trigger a memory that somehow warrants being saved in written form. My thoughts today come from memories of my teen years. Particularly in relation to persons in my sphere of influence who very much shaped who I am today. I think this is going to be a several part post.
For some reason, when I was young, I tended to gravitate toward those at least a generation and usually two generations older than I. Today I was reminded of my time shared with a neighbor. Her name was Wy. (pronounced "why"). We had moved to California from New Hampshire when I was 13. Wy lived in the house next door. She and her husband Bill had been married for at least 45 years when I met her. From time to time I would help Wy carry groceries into her home and she would invite me in for a visit. Over time our visits became more frequent and lasted for several hours. Looking back I imagine some would wonder why on earth a 13 year old would want to spend so many of her hours visiting with an elderly woman. I guess it may have been that she was somewhat of a surrogate grandmother for me, as I had left behind the only one I had ever known when we moved. What I loved about Wy, was that she would just talk with me as though I was any one of her friends. She would tell me stories of when she was young, of the depression, of how she met Bill. She taught me to play Gin Rummy and to make a doll out of safety pins and beads. She showed me the ins and outs of CB radios. She and Bill frequently communicated through CB radios. I wish I could remember their radio names now, but as with many other little details of the past they have drifted off. Every evening around 4:45 Bill would radio in and let Wy know he was on his way home. Wy would always say, "Can't wait. Your wine will be ready. Love you." Wy had been told by Bill's doctors that a glass of red wine in the evenings would be good for his heart.
For four years this continued, my visits with Wy. She became my confidant, my cheerleader and often times, my inspiration. She always had time for me and I delighted in every moment. Bill retired during my senior year of high school and Wy looked forward to having him home. Within a month of Bill being home full-time he suffered a massive stroke. They celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary a few months later. Bill in a wheelchair, not able to speak. You could see how he loved Wy though. How he cherished all those who had come to celebrate. The photo albums filled with their memories were passed around the tables and I recognized almost all of them. This was to be the last anniversary that Bill and Wy would share.
I remember coming home from school and seeing all the cars in Wy's driveway. I slowly made my way up her front walk fearing what I would hear, but already knowing inside what had happened. Bill was gone. All I could do was hug her and sob. It hardly seemed fair. Wy's children lived several hours away. She longed for family after Bill's passing so she moved away to be closer to them.
I lost something very special the day Wy moved away. She took a piece of me with her. But she had also given me so much of who she was that the trade was worth it....
I lost touch with Wy after I graduated from college. I learned many years later, that she had also passed away and was buried beside her Bill.

How then, can people call on someone.....

....they have not believed? And how can they believe in someone they have not heard about? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? - Romans 10:13-15

In the above photo you see our friend's Paul and Sheila Gunderson. You will find their website in our 'favorites' list. Paul and Sheila are missionaries with New Tribes Missions. They are remarkable people whom we love and cherish deeply. Paul and Sheila both have a passion for foreign missions, particularly in the area of the unreached peoples of the world. Mark and I are privileged to be members of their "senders team". Paul and Sheila are home for the summer and tonight we had the opportunity to visit with them and the rest of the senders. They shared with us a video of the incredible work God is doing in the lives of the Dao people through a young couple named Scott and Jennie. Scott and Jennie have been living with the Dao people for over 3 years and recently were able to present the Gospel message in their native language. What is amazing about this, is that generally it can take up to 15 years before such a feat can be accomplished. The message..well..really the Bible up to the time of Christ's resurrection is presented in a series of daily teachings that span 2 months. As I sat and watched the footage I could not fight back the tears, nor did I want to. Watching the faces of the tribe's men and women as they heard the story of their Creator unfold. Seeing the sadness and dismay in their eyes as they heard of Christ's crucifixion, then watching their smiles as they heard of His resurrection and what that means for those who believe. One by one around the room the tribes people began to cry out, "I believe". It's really not possible to describe in words the joy that you could see on their faces.

I looked down at Sheila seated at the foot of her mother and watched as her mother stroked the head of her daughter. I was suddenly struck with how real it all was. Sheila and Paul have been in training for 2 years and will be in training in Indonesia for 2 more years before they move to their final tribal location with their young son, Nathan. They are giving up their lives here in the states to be tribal church planters, to hopefully experience the same successes we witnessed in tonight's video. What perhaps is more astonishing to me is that Sheila knew at age 8 that she wanted to be a foreign missionary. That God would bring Paul and Sheila together and join two hearts that are so passionate for foreign missions is a love story that to me is on a whole other level. I cannot tell you how these two young people lift my spirits and bless me. If you have read this post all the way through, I hope you will take some time to visit Paul and Sheila's site, as well as the New Tribes site. Perhaps God will stir in you, as He has in me, a desire to support these two as they share God's love and redemption to a world that needs to hear.

Hmm..thought I'd share this.. written June 28th.

Today we departed for our trip to California. I know up to now I haven't shared our vacation plans. This was not an oversight on my part, but an intentional omission. Partly due to wanting to surprise my sister-in-law, who turned 50 last week, and partly because, well frankly there were other stories to tell. Although you will be reading this after we have arrived at our destination, I'm actually writing it in the car, somewhere on I-5 just south of Shasta Lake.
What caused me to put pencil to paper and risk the possibility of car sickness( as I have never quite handled reading and writing while traveling) was the correlation between the long car ride...and life. Many people lament the long car ride. The hours of monotony, the fuzzy radio stations, the pins and needles in their feet as they awake after falling asleep in awkward positions. The disdain for the car ride can be so great however, that even the promise of an amazing destination is not enough to entice them to take the plunge.
What I have learned in my life is that the long car ride has been necessary to allow me to experience joys this side of Heaven that God has given me. I will admit, the long drive is often times boring and physically tiring and sometimes filled with challenges. It would of course be grand if we could just wake up and be where we want to be, but I wonder if that would somehow minimize the joy of the destination. If my life were void of "long car rides" and everything came easily or instantaneously would I still long for the destination of Heaven? Maybe, but would I truly appreciate all that God's promises have for me?
For now, I am content to ride in the car alongside my husband allowing the excitement for what's to come to build, knowing that every mile and minute that passes brings me that much closer to an eternity with my Saviour.

New Web Link

So, I've added a new website in my favorites. It's a link to my Flickr Photo page. Enjoy.

What a beautiful Day...

here in Eugene. It's supposed to be 78 today. I certainly can't complain about that. We all slept in this morning basking in the comfort of our own beds. I finally shuffled downstairs around 7 and started a pot of coffee. There were 8 days worth of newspapers waiting outside the front door. I rifled through each days for the comics, and made a stack in chronological order. As far as my children are concerned, the comics are really the only section of the paper worth reading. Many days, I agree with them. It wasn't long before Mark was downstairs as well. When Daniel joined us a short time later, Mark launched into his short-order cook mode, preparing mouth-watering pancakes, served with what else but...peanut butter & Karo corn syrup. Those of you on the Hart side of the family know all about peanut butter and syrup! It's an acquired taste, and after 20 years of marriage.....I still haven't acquired it. However my children were weaned on the combination. I was content with a protein shake. Katie was the late-comer I think she may have rolled out of bed around 9:30. (She had to heat up her pancakes)
Following breakfast Mark headed outside to mow the lawns, while I set to work on putting away suitcases and washing laundry.
As noon approached Mark and I donned our bicycle helmets and pedaled over to the Festival at Hayward Field. (The Track & Field Olympic Time Trials) The event was providing complimentary valet bike parking which made for easy coming and going. We walked around the festival for a bit, stopping to chat with a few friends. Basically there was food and clothing and sales pitches. We split a chicken burrito and I picked up a snazzy running shirt from SportHill. We ended our excursion with a short walk up to Prince Pucklers for dessert. A kid-size cinnamon espresso scoop for me and a single scoop cookie dough for Mark. Back on our bikes we rode along the river towards home. We are very fortunate here in Eugene to have such well-maintained bike paths. The view along the river was quite scenic. The sky along the river was a bright blue dotted with billowy clouds. I like clouds, always have. I commented to Mark about the lack of clouds in California. We did not see one cloud the entire time we were down there.
There was a lone boat on the river with two fishermen. They looked very happy to be alone. I couldn't tell if they had caught anything, but I wonder if that really mattered.
Back at home now, I've got the grill heating out on the patio. Today is just too nice to cook indoors. Daniel is catching up on some television shows and Katie has a date with a rather adorable brown-eyed boy who appears to be quite smitten with her. I think it may be the way she prepares his macaroni and cheese or her bubble blowing skills, all very important qualities to a two year old. This evening when Katie has returned we shall all venture out for a walk. When you live in Eugene, you just never know how long the warm, clear days will be with you and you must take every opportunity to pursue outdoor activities.

Home Again!

Well! What a whirlwind week! We made it home this evening around 6:00 p.m. All of us happy to see our house. Katie and Daniel slept most of the way home. I managed at least 3 hours of shut-eye, and Mark about and hour (when he wasn't driving of course)
The temperatures certainly cooled the more north we drove. We actually were very fortunate to have fairly cool temperatures in the Central Valley while we visited. By cool I mean in the low 90's. We were reminiscing last night about the July 4th of 1991, I was very...very pregnant with Katie and it was 118 degrees. I'm thankful I don't have to endure those temperatures anymore.
We really appreciate all of those who made this trip so amazing for us. Our friends in Eugene who watched our dog, Jenna. Our friend who kept an eye on our house. Our family and friends in California for their hospitality and feeding us so well! Tomorrow we shall attempt to get back into our routines.