Home...

I have the good fortune of living in the home I was raised in from the age of four. It nearly escaped me (and the continuation of our family residing here) several times. I was gone for all but two years of a twenty year period from age eleven. My father lived and died here. I have traveled/lived a worldwide selection of locations, but there is nothing that fits me so precisely and comfortably as this place. It is a very real part of my strength. There are trees on our property I hunt under now and turn to see my father standing proudly. Beside him is a 9 year old boy with his first H&R 20 ga. shotgun, carefully maintained towards the ground at all times. It had an interchangeable .30-30 Winchester, break open single shot rifle barrel, too. (I had the pleasure of passing it on to a nephew as he came of age to own it.) With it, and from under another tree's branches, I took my first deer on Saturday, November 14th at 8:03 AM (approximately... heh). Dad's glistening eyes betrayed the truth behind what I thought at first was a following bout of short temper with me. A job to do properly at hand, son... pay attention! Walking these acres routinely takes me from moments of broad grins to silent tears of tight throated remembrance. Dorothy was so very right.

You’re from Jersey... what exit?
Maybe that line is only funny to transplants of the Garden State - or those of you old enough to remember the SNL days of Joe Piscapo. Of course, it isn’t true that the Jersey Turnpike is a virtual portal to every front door in the state, but whether it is the Parkway, the Expressway, or I-95, most Jerseyans identify “home” as either North Jersey (New York ) or South Jersey (Philadelphia). Central Jersey is a mystery to those who profess geographical loyalty. I am undeniably a South Jersey girl - from the top of my hoop earrings to the bottom of my platform shoes. It doesn't matter what address is listed on my driver’s license - (it’s a Jersey thing) - and it follows us as we merge into Circles and glide around Jug Handles, while going ‘down the shore’ to Ocean City or Wildwood. Within the Promised Land of Diners, strong 'cawfee' and a 24 hour breakfast menu - there is easy access to warm, soft pretzels and REAL Philly Cheesesteaks - (ordered: Wizz, Wit Onions). And for a great, family-owned, Italian Deli, check out Carmen’s, for the uncontested, absolute BEST hoagies in South Jersey. Make no mistake about it - we South Jersey girls are not big haired, stereotypical New York wannabes. We are loyal fans of hometown food and hometown sports. We have a unique style and a distinctive flavor of our own. So eh, yo - if you think that being from New Jersey means that you can fit us all neatly into one simple package - Fahgeddabout it......

Dogs... (“other pets are almost dogs…”)

I have been a dog owner since as young as I can recall. Currently, "my girlz" are German Shorthaired Pointers, ages 3 years, 3 months and 10 years, 7 months. They go absolutely everywhere with me, always, except snowmobiling/motorcycling/deer/bear hunting. The young one ("Heidi") is an avid, focused bird hunter and the old girl ("Huntress") couldn't care less any more (...she doesn't have to and she knows it). They have a "house", with a cushy bed, built under a bench inside my business. They have regularly replaced clean 'seat sheets' on their side of the truck bench seat. The old one rides permanent shotgun whilst the youngster freeze points all bird sightings from the center console as we drive. Both super obedient with a constant eager-to-please attitude, they are loving and razor sharp. They have attention spans like none I have ever enjoyed. They are connected to me like remote operating appendages. They sense my movements, my timings, my inclinations and my attitudes. I like them more than most people and I love every second I am gifted with their loyal, endless companionship. Their incessant smiles keep me smiling.

I have three, fabulously large Golden Retrievers who barrel clumsily down my stairs, carry food onto the carpet, cause delivery-men to run screaming, shed profusely, and clear tables with a single tail swipe. In other words, they’re Golden. I didn’t follow the Italian Pomeranian tradition. Our only tradition is naming our dogs after rogue Detectives from TV, film or literature. “Ramius and Ryan” - “Riggs and Murtaugh” - “Cagney and Lacy” - “Maddie and Addison” - “Spade” - “Marlowe” and “McClane.” And while you ponder the origin of the above names, I’ll explain the names of my most recent dogs: 1. Malone - Named after Sean Connery’s Detective Malone in the “Untouchables.“ 2. Delaney - Named after Frank Sinatra’s character Edward Delaney in the movie and novel, “The First Deadly Sin.” 3.Bean- Full name, “Sarina Bean” Named after Paul Newman’s character, Judge Roy Bean - in the movie “The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean.” 4. Callahan - Named after Clint Eastwood’s character - Detective Harry Callahan, from the classic “Dirty Harry” movies. I guess there is just something appealing about those good guys with bad edges. To paraphrase Mae West, "when they’re good they’re very, very good - but when they’re bad they’re better".....;)

Fears...

I try to accept reality head on. I try not to fear much of anything because I think it mostly unhealthy. But, reluctantly... admittedly, we all have them. I just intentionally, purposely, strive to keep my list short. I have a fear of crashing... usually when I am actually crashing. A bit more seriously, personally, a debilitating stroke or similar accident that I couldn't fight and recover from is highest on my list. I never want to be a burden to my family or friends. I never wish to be in a circumstance wherein I cannot pull my own weight. If God gave me such a challenging situation, my first and chief concern would be how to contrive a manner in which I could still make a useful contribution. Overcoming a physical or functional setback and returning as close as possible to whatever degree of "normal" I once was would become paramount. Nationally, (yeah, it should be a second paragraph, but 'we' imposed a one paragraph rule here... so I am cheating... sue me) I am woefully worried about the lurking fall of our Republic at the hands of the hapless, ignorant and power corrupt Orwellians. We are now in a defense, energy and economic mine field that extends as far as the horizon. And we're blindly running through it. The incredibly real prospects of how suddenly our everyday lifestyles could be forever altered is numbing. Our complacency is the monster in the closet.

Sometimes there is more to fear, than fear itself. I have my share of rational fears, but these days I choose to be more preoccupied with the irrational ones. After almost 30 years, I still get nervous when I need to drive across the Sunshine Skyway Bridge in Tampa, Florida. Anyone who lived in Florida, during the 80's, probably remembers the two horrible accidents in 1980 involving that bridge. There was the collision of a US Coast Guard ship, claiming 23 sailors' lives and then there was a structural collapse when a Freighter hit the bridge, and 35 people, (in vehicles), fell to their deaths. After that collapse, half of the bridge stood for years, while a new bridge was erected. That eerie reminder stood like a monument - broken at the point of impact. And even though it is now a beautiful, cabled bridge, shining above emerald water, in its architectural splendor - its brilliance doesn't stop my hands from shaking on the wheel whenever I see it in the distance. The old bridge is long gone - but my irrational fear is forever...

Pet Peeves...

This is difficult, as I am smidge critical of most perceived aberrant behaviors. However, that said, I have a huge distaste for incapable whiners with a tendency for shivering trepidation under the slightest of stressful, problematic occurrences. I tend to lean towards people who are resolute and determined to overcome adversity. I like a "can do, will do" attitude. I generally surround myself with folks like that and gravitate to the self sustaining. I abhor panic, as it hopelessly clouds the mind and impairs one's ability to think... inevitably at the most critical of times. I would far rather die trying to think my way through saving my own ass (pardon me...) butt than cowering into submission, only to be summarily dispatched anyway. Boredom can be allowed and lived, but there is no such thing as safety. Life is rich and dangerous... deal with it. Wolf it down!

I have zero tolerance for Companies who are willing to risk alienating an entire consumer base by making veiled, political statements. As a former Marketing Manager, I am always in favor of an effective marketing campaign, as long as it is clear and concise. But I draw the line at any campaign that lures unsuspecting consumers into expressing political or religious support, without their knowledge or consent. One perfect example of a company doing what I term, “Alienation Marketing,” is LEVIS. Their new campaign called, White Knot, is intended as a veiled but deliberate statement of support against the continued passing of Proposition 8 - and in favor of gay marriage. In fact, since Memorial Day, consumers have been unwittingly making a statement in support of gay marriage by purchasing items from LEVIS stores that have been purposely and clearly adorned with a “white ribbon, tied in a knot.” If LEVIS wants to support gay marriage as a public issue - it is surely their prerogative - but I believe that they have absolutely NO right to impose that view on unwitting consumers. Why not try some giant Billboards - in the Deep South and in the Midwest! Why not come out of the closet, LEVIS?

That's Entertainment...

I don't do movies much as I find it nearly impossible to get much beyond the realization that all the actors are faking their roles. I loved the almost ancient, classic cult movie "On Any Sunday". I enjoy unusual, off-the-beaten-path comedy stories. I like photo art. I like reading technical manuals, design/fabrication and pushing the envelope to what other people usually regard as "extremes". Of course, those people are patently wrong, but I was recently told that I never seem to really enjoy anything unless it contains the potential of getting killed. I don't know where that comes from...? Life inevitably ends at some point for all of us and I never lament accumulating age, but rather choose to revel in the hopefully accumulating wisdom. Being 18 was tough... I don't want to go back... but understand, I don't want to exit the party yet, either.

I have a few favorite “modern day” movies, but I adore the old classics from the 1940’s and 1950’s. I don't have one specific favorite film - but my guilty pleasure is romantic comedies - in particular, anything with Katharine Hepburn. To me, she epitomized the truest combination of being a “dame” and being a “lady” - an unapologetic combination to which I have always aspired. I think she was one of the first genuinely strong female personalities to ever grace the big screen but she still had an incredible warmth that radiated through every role she played. Her comedic timing is unsurpassed and she was absolutely at her best in movies such as Bringing Up Baby with Clark Gable or The Philadelphia Story with Cary Grant. Her chemistry with Spencer Tracy was unmistakable in Adam's Rib and Woman of the Year." And so, if you haven’t seen these films yet, I do highly recommend a full-out, full day marathon, with a few buckets of buttery popcorn - and a chocolate malted. Hmm. (Food). Seems to be a recurring theme…

Hobbies...

I almost never relax... who has time for such? Seriously, I relax by writing (although with zippo "spare time" lately, you wouldn't notice), by taking pictures (scenics/night shots are my fave), shooting video and learning new, challenging items of acute interest. I'm trying to become more skilled with PhotoShop, a welcome, pleasant opportunity to escape for awhile and create "things". I like mind exercise. Hobbies? I got several hundred of them! I love to shoot, hunt, hike into remote back country, wilderness camp and I am completely obsessed with mountains. I like mind bending, shoulder stretching, space shuttle equivalent acceleration and I am an exponential horsepower freak. I feel more at ease on a motorcycle, snowmobile, tunnel boat or truck than any limousine towncar.

Ever since I was old enough to lift myself onto a piano bench - to haphazardly bang the keys - I have loved playing the piano. Now, I didn’t say I was any good - but I do love to play. Alas, I cannot read one single note of music. However, I am just stubborn enough not to allow that to stop me from playing. I often attempt to accompany songs on the radio and I eventually will learn to play them. In fact, when someone asks me how I first learned how to play the piano, I usually tell them that Billy Joel taught me - (he just doesn’t know it). I have sincere appreciation for anyone who has taken the time and demonstrated the dedication necessary to play the piano, properly. I. however. am resigned to “play by ear” or more accurately, I am resigned to “play by sheer determination.“ As much as I do enjoy the benefits of playing - it is indeed a hobby that has developed more from sheer persistence than talent.

Odd food...

Curry. I crave curry recipes of all types. Their regular consumption is a semi-religious/physical euphoric experience for me. Many years ago, I found this incredible character who had a similar adoration for curries that paralleled mine. He created this amazing website entitled "Death By Curry" which included types, categories and recipes for a zillion, trillion curries (perhaps more). Amazing, rich, pungently aromatic, wondrous creations of fire and spice! You know they are excellent when your first sweat begins right at the crown of your head. I am tempted to go into a long treatise about the difference between 'spicy' and 'hot', but I would need another paragraph for sure. Almost any meat, vegetable, fish or seafood can be curried... even fruits. It's all about the spices and how you savor their intense, knock you down flavors. And this true worshipper had cataloged the best. Then one day, several months later and years ago... his site suddenly disappeared. I was shattered. I am delighted to declare that this topic, and writing about it, caused me to search it again. And... Hallelujah! It has been reposted! Woo Hooooo!!

I occasionally get a bizarre food craving.
It is not really a strange food. It is just a strange combination of foods. Peanut butter.....on toast......with a pickle.... and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side. So, ok - I know it sounds absolutely horrible - but it’s actually a somewhat healthy snack. It can, however, only be satisfied by an exact combination of the following four things. One. The bread has to be thick, white - and toasted. Two. The peanut butter has to be smooth - (not chunky) - so it can get all melty and drippy from the heat of the toast. Three. The pickle has to be cold and crispy - and a Kosher Dill, but never a Butter Pickle (because well, that would just be gross:). Heh. Four. The ice cream has to be Vanilla Bean - and preferably Breyers. Someone out there must be able to relate…

Political concerns...

Guns, personal defense, guns... and guns. There is no greater last wall of tyrannical defense nor more crucial foundation to the preservation of freedom in this country than the God given right that the Second Amendment to our Constitution guarantees every last American. Without the Second Amendment, we cannot maintain or retain any of the others. All infelonious citizens should have the legal right to carry a loaded, concealed firearm without government intrusion, paperwork or scrutiny. An armed citizen is a person capable of defense in the face of assault, empowered by his Constitution. He is not the 'time bomb' that pervasive mouth breathers would suggest and falsely portray. Candidates for anything above Dog Catcher should be scrutinized by their gun rights views and voting history first... period. They tend to ascend to higher, more powerful offices. I would somehow try to stitch onto this (Paragraph, 'Part B') that my Number 1.1 Political Priority is abolishing the legislation legalizing the murder of millions of innocent babies annually. The notion that this should be thought to be worthy of confabulation at all is reprehensive. It is disgraceful, darkside law.

I was born on the outer cusp of the Boomer generation and I cannot recall having a single family discussion about the Second Amendment. I never even saw a gun nor held one in my hand until I was 28 years old. Truthfully, I never gave one thought to owning a gun - until I needed one. But, living in these days of Liberal ‘Obamanations‘, Supreme Court appointments and the threat of increasing gun bans, I pray that we, the people of this nation, are never forced to be resigned to protect ourselves, or our loved ones, from armed assailants, with only our wits - or stacking tin cans by our front doors. To those of you who support the idiocy of increased gun control - I humbly ask you: What would you do if you were locked “safely” in your own home - when suddenly a strange man appeared in the shadows, pointing a gun while leering into your child’s bedroom window? Would it be precisely at that moment that you would recognize that those “inconsequential” gun bans were merely restrictions forced upon law abiding citizens - with no consideration for those who did not - and would not - ever comply with the law? Would you suddenly wish you had a gun? Do you even know what you would decide to do in that situation? Well, fortunately I had a gun - and I knew what I would decide to do before it ever had to be done. And my children are alive today, as a result of that decision. Are you willing to accept unnecessary gun restrictions - and take unnecessary risks for your children? In omnia paratus

We were officially tagged with this meme from Heidianne at Big Girl Pants [Thank you, Heidianne!!]- and she was earlier tagged by "Z" at Golly Geeeeez.
It is now our duty to continue to spread this meme to other unsuspecting bloggers. While we were tasked with "infecting" only five, we decided
that the dynamic of our memeplex allows us the liberty to infect as we choose.
Our tags go to...

• El Cerdo Ignatius
  
• Fire Base America
  
• MK's View
  
• SmartLass
  
• The Pickle
  
• To Which I Replied...
  
• Workingclass Conservative
  
• Urban Infidel

Please pick the topics that fit YOU! ...With our sincere hopes you will participate!

~D.I. & Dena

To Those Fallen...

And To Those Who Served...
Thank You.

Thy Mother's Glass

My greatest admiration, for all women who can selflessly claim the title of Mother. My deepest respect, for anyone who chooses to serve this great nation. There are not words succint enough nor encompassing enough to describe that unique individual who chooses to travel the arduous pathway of becoming a Mom in the Military. And with those above limitations stated, I am hoping that my video will be able to speak sufficiently for me.

However, I will leave you with some of my favorite quotes that resonate:

• A mother is a person, who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie. (Tenneva Jordan)


• Sweater, (n): A garment worn by child when his mother is feeling chilly. (Ambrose Bierce)


• All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That is his. (Oscar Wilde), The Importance of Being Earnest, 1895


• The sweetest sounds to mortals given - are heard in Mother, Home, and Heaven. (William Brown)

• A Freudian slip is when you say one thing but mean your Mother. (Author Unknown)

"Thou are thy Mother's glass  and she in thee - calls back the lovely April of her prime." (William Shakespeare)

A Rapidly Accelerating Downward Spiral

Do you sense it?

Do you find your throat tightening suddenly?

Do you unexpectedly starve for air?

The pressure is continuously building, pushing harder down upon the chest. It squelches the spontaneity of words and expression. It makes the mind leap and jump. Thoughts race and the movie goes into fast forward, only to fade and trail off to darkness. Let's just think about something else, right?

That is a safety measure... a relief valve. It stops the preponderance of visions of what could, what might be. But the film does seem to run further each time, allowing glimmers of what we can postulate.

It is becoming an ever growing battle between the 'planning/preparation' lobe and the 'enjoy and live' section. It intrudes upon all "normal" life now. The uncertainty, the questions, the concerns of what is to come.

For some of us, anyway. And that portion of the population seems to be getting larger. People of depth... are watching closely.

But as I walk through the grocery store aisles, I also see so many of the unaware. They chat on their cell phones and stuff their shopping carts with foodstuffs as if it actually grew directly upon the shelves they pick it from. They pull into Citgo and Petrol King stations, filling and handing over cubic wads of cash, with no grasp, concept or cares of who a man named Hugo actually is. They are entertained by "reality" TV, Brittany, Paris and American Idol. They think that cash is an entitlement, "given" by the "government" through the extended credit arm of the ATM system.

In a massive, national emergency, they are the faces of victimhood... the walking dead. They will be first a tragedy, then a liability, then a crazed, rabid, desperate threat... and finally a tragedy again.

It is as it has always been, in many ways, throughout history. Truly, we have never known what the next page would be, but most of us have lived in the same chapter. But perhaps it was because it seemed only logical, probable that a continuation of what once was routine... would be always. But it seems we are turning pages in a new, transitional chapter.

So sad it will be, if we allow the book to end. Imagine the let down a reincarnated soldier would experience. Imagine the reaction, if he was to rise from his grave and take in the view of today. What would this man say? This man, who gave up all his wordly connections... his loves, his passions, his hates... his life... for you and me. For all of us who would inherit the country he died to protect and serve. We are people he never knew, nor did he have to know. He had faith that future America would easily see the fruits of his sacrifices... freedom, liberty, the opportunities to rise or to fall individually.

But he assumed, he just instinctively took for granted, that NO ONE who was so lucky to be an American would ever allow the very premises that this union was founded upon... to unravel.

Many Conservative bloggers are now also reacting to the crunch, the negativity and the gloom. I was quite surprised to witness my own lack of enthusiasm to keep pounding the table, to try to repeatedly alert people to the erosion, the cave-in, the slippery descent... shared by many folks who I have admired and read often. I have to consider whether they have lost hope or if they are perhaps concentrating on their own personal preparedness. Maybe both?

Have we let this situation slip so far that it is irretrievable? Consider the multitude of poor to stupid decisions:

When we can't seem to close our borders, we continue to implement more tax payer provided "services" for people who are here illegally, tuition discounts for their children, free health care for undeserving illegals at real Americans' expense, we have 'leaders' of communities insisting upon creating 'sanctuary cities' where illegality is ordered to be ignored by the police (the authorities whose salaries are paid by 'We, The People')?

When we are so overun with politically correct CRAP that stifles free speech as "unfair political participation" and "hate speech"? PC'ism that precludes public recognition/declaration of the worldwide Islamic threat to everything non-Muslim? Appeasements that include foot baths, prayer areas, and covered face driver's license photos...

The after effects of unbridled credit for the masses, who promptly borrowed on bubble collateral and spent frivolously, investing in nothing solid with a future of growth?

Forcing the American public to repeatedly bail out these failed moves by implementing government rescue after rescue?

Continuing to over-print money to the point of devaluing the currency?

When 'multi-culturalism' is marketed as the only "proper"... to the point of hiding, excluding and humbly apologizing for anything that is deemed too genuinely American?

Assaulting Christian beliefs, upon which this country was declaratively founded, as if they somehow precipitated the lack of morals and values that are now the norm, rather than as they once were... the exception.

When everything that was once "right" is now declared "wrong", when "bad" becomes chic, cool and "good"...

Can anyone who takes quiet pause to consider... deny that this must eventually culminate in a vast reckoning?

Sadness is the day's name when all we have remaining is the imperative need for a button that never existed...




*I wrote this almost exactly one year ago, but never published it. Unfortunately, it dovetails with a disturbingly exact fit now... as was forecast.

The Rising

The true meaning of Easter is not defined by the Crucifixion, it is Divined by the Resurrection. While most Christians are already reflecting upon our bounty of faith and the rising of Jesus Christ, perhaps the events of this week can also serve as gentle reminders for each of us to remember those special people, within our own lives, who continue to 'raise us up' each day.

"Each of us should please his neighbor for his good, to build him up." Romans 15:2

There have been special people, throughout my life, who have raised me up spiritually, physically, emotionally, and intellectually. There are those people who have helped me to raise that proverbial bar within my life - and there have been people who undoubtedly have prompted me to raise my standards. I have been fortunate to have met people who have encouraged me to raise my hand, in order to be seen - to raise my voice, in order to be heard - and to raise my consciousness, in order to become more aware. I have been blessed to know people who have inspired me to laugh more loudly - and to love more deeply. And within this, the Season of Resurrection, I am reflecting upon the most special people who selflessly raise me up each day. I would like to encourage all of you to remember the special people within your own lives. Those who calm your soul, create your joy and lift your spirits.†

"You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas
I am strong when I am on your shoulders
You raise me up, to more than I can be...."

While I was thinking about the true meaning of Easter, I recalled this sweet story:

A group of four-year old children attended a Sunday School class. It was one week before Easter and the teacher wanted to know how many children truly understood the meaning of the Easter season.

She asked the children:
"Does anyone know what day we are celebrating today?"

One little girl excitedly waved her hand and said, "Yes, I know! Today is Palm Sunday!!" The teacher smiled and said, "That's right. Now, can anyone tell me what day we will be celebrating next Sunday...?"

The same little girl raised her hand and said "Yes, I know! Next Sunday is Easter Sunday." The teacher nodded her head and said, "Yes, very good! Now, does anyone know why we celebrate Easter Sunday?" The little girl quickly leapt to her feet and exclaimed, "Yes. I know! Next Sunday is Easter Sunday - and we celebrate it because Jesus rose from the grave....." As the teacher began to congratulate the little girl for understanding the true meaning of Easter - she was quickly interrupted as the little girl finished explaining....

"Jesus rose from the grave ....but if he sees his shadow - he has to go back inside for seven weeks."

May we find the true meaning of Easter by seeking a better understanding of the messages that are always evident within our hearts.

A Sojourn's Ending...

We are not "here" permanently. This is but a temporary portion of our journey. It is very difficult to grasp that Andy's special, very beautiful flame was to be shared with us so briefly. May his contributions to shaping our reality and perception be kept with each of us... always.

I will see you on every mountain summit I climb henceforth, dear friend. Thank you for all the smiles, warm words and thoughts exchanged, and the privilege of knowing you while you were on this short road.

Rest forever in God's secure arms.

Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past?
Donate every dime you have?
Would you call old friends you never see?
Reminisce old memories...
Would you forgive your enemies?
Would you find that one you're dreamin' of?
Swear up and down to God above
That you'd finally fall in love?
If today was your last day...

*With sincerest appreciation to Miradena for so artfully assembling the following effort from many assorted, personal snowmobiling clips taken during this winter's rides (...one of Andy's most favorite passions).

I Hope You Dance...

This winter has been filled with financial bailouts, economic downturns and political corruption. The icy winds of 2009 blew in a newly selected President who has been meticulously disassembling the strengths of our nation and replacing them with Socialistic impoverishment.

And so it began - this, our winter of discontent.

As we struggle to bring attention to the Elephant in the room, we remain surrounded by a party of power wielding Jack-Asses. In the midst of this doomsday environment, it has become too easy for us to lose sight of the beauty that surrounds us each day. Lament about our glasses being half empty, but find some comfort in knowing that those same glasses are also, by design, half full. And with sincere apologies to my staunchly, sugar-free blogging partner, (for my shamelessly, sugar-coated sentiment), I still contend that our ability to persevere has always been reliant upon our sheer expectation to succeed. And so, to quote a Leanne Womack song:

"I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance.

Never settle for the path of least resistance.


Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance.


And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance -

I hope you dance."

The decision to join a chorus line of metaphoric dance is limited solely by our own choices because this world has always been Blessed with an enduring rhythm. Colors slowly transitioning at sunset. Bird wings fluttering in rapid arpeggio. Raindrops pulsing with percussive patterns. Waterfalls crashing in crescendo. Magical, rhythmical sights and sounds within nature that can never be adequately defined by words because they are inherently Divine by Creation. Consequently, can there ever be any outdoor adventure more exhilarating than that which God has created as it’s natural backdrop?

Having recently braced my posterior atop the skis of a snowmobile for the first time, I think I found my personal rhythm within those picturesque settings which served as willing distractions for my novice hesitations. In fact, I instantly felt as though I had been given the keys to some secret world. A world which still exists in it’s purest form and rivals the most pristine of snow globes.

- I secretly wondered how many people had experienced this exact same beauty without ever fully understanding or appreciating the privilege of that experience.

- I secretly wondered if I would emerge unscathed.

- My daughters secretly wondered when I was going to come to my senses.

And, within this secret wonder-land, I not only emerged unscathed -
I immediately came to my senses upon arrival.

In fact, I came to all five of my senses.

Seeing -
The landscape was frosted. The sunset painted rainbows against the white snow that sparkled in brilliant, pastel shades of cotton candy. The mountains carved a path through the powdery landscape. There were ice caves and panoramic views of majestic peaks and peaceful valleys. Shadows from tall trees stretched across the fields - and track marks from our sleds were left as if they were artful brushstrokes on a waiting canvas.

Hearing -
There was an ethereal sound of exhale. The wind moaned. Branches rustled. Engines revved, hummed and strained, dependent on the level of terrain. I could hear my own breath echoing from within my helmet and the sounds of the skis chopping through icy inclinations on the trails.

Smelling -
There were smells of dampened pine and woodsy scents captured within the breezes. My gloves smelled of leather. The air smelled cold and crisp. But I will unashamedly admit that, after several hours of riding, the meaty grill smells that wafted from a quaint little diner along the trail rivaled for my attention.

Tasting -
Clear lungs and a tremendous appetite are quite the combination for making burgers taste better than anything else you have ever eaten. Although the fries were a close second ;)

Feeling -
Blessed.

To me, there is a form of contentment that is reachable only within nature - and it is the very definition of a natural high.

I want to thank DI for his patience, his support and his willingness to teach me the basics of snowmobiling. Watching him on his sled - charging bankings, spraying powder into the wind and speeding effortlessly over the terrain - was like watching wild horses running free. While conversely, I know that I exhibited all of the gracefulness of a gawky, newborn foal. Quite a contrast in capabilities! I sincerely hope that a fraction of the beauty of this adventure remains evident in the video below. I know that I may not have completely found my rhythm - but I will never regret my choice to dance.........

"I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean.

Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens.

Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance.

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance -

I hope you dance."

*Posted in memory of my father -

on this, what would have been, his 76th birthday...