“You’re pregnant, again?!”

“You two need to get cable.”

“You know what causes that, right?”

“What are you going to do?!”

And then sometimes you really do get the sincerely genuine, “Congratulations! Children are such a blessing!”

But most of the time it’s a comment accompanied with a look of pity. It probably has to do with the look of exhaustion I wear daily—it doesn’t really blend well with the Mac concealer.

Yes. I am pregnant with baby number four. Now that I’m etching past the 12 week mark and the first trimester of exhaustion and nausea, the reality of what I am about to embark upon is overwhelming. It wasn’t “supposed” to happen for another year. I needed to finish grad school. My oldest is just entering pre-k and is not even four years old yet. I thought I’d have more time to prepare…as best as one prepares for four small children.

It seems like the female reproductive system is such a commonly discussed topic among media outlets and politicians. I’ve read so many blogs that talk about what we should and should not talk about with one another. But as more people discover our news, I feel like I have to have some type of stance as to why I am choosing to be so open to life. I may not seem very convincing in person because I am just so tired. 

This week I had my new students read my short story, “The Liver Philosophy”. The moral of the story is to do what is right for you, even if no one else gets it. I had my students write a summary of what they felt it meant and quite a few of them wrote about some of their own choices that they are willing to be a “Liver” for. It was both insightful and inspiring. What moved me more is that I had forgotten to live out the very words I had once wrote!

I know that having a large family is not what everyone desires. I know that being open to “God’s will” is very open to interpretation. I also know that I am not one to judge other people’s choices, as long as they can respect mine.

I don’t know what I am going to do. My motto is that I tend to take life 50 minutes at a time. It’s the teacher in me. Every time the bell rings, a new class begins and anything and everything can change. It carries over into my home life. A meltdown one moment can lead to giggles the next.

Having my children so close together is hard. I’m really finally admitting it out loud. Maybe that’s one of the reasons you have to be open to God to have bigger families. You have to pray a lot for your sanity and you also have to admit that you need other people. It’s a hard thing to do when you have a lot of pride and you were once so independent, but then you look around and you see that you have a real family and real friends who live and celebrate this one life with you.

I sometimes question if I’m making the right choice, but then today happens. After a chaotic day, my three boys will be so sweet. And we do something random like “chase the sun”, which involves driving down an open highway to watch the gorgeous sunset while listening to The Postal Service. And they talk to one another like brothers do and say in an almost synchronized, rehearsed manner, “Good night, Sun,” to the melody of how we read, “Good Night Moon.” And I think, Yes. I can have another. I will survive thrive.

See you in February Baby Bou:)

The preamble to proposal

This was something I wrote a few months ago when Jon and I first returned from Oregon. It’s remarkable how things grow:)

MARRIAGE TALK

We have now talked about marrying one another more so than I have with any other suiter….combined.

This morning we discussed what weddings meant to both of us while nibbling on an egg and cheese omelet that he overcooked in one of my great grandma’s thirty-year-old pots. The subject first came up during our drive back from Oregon. We were rounding a curve outside of Astoria when he mentioned that his stepfather asked if I were the last girlfriend he was ever going to bring home. He said he replied that he, “hoped so.”

That was an emotional first for me. I respected the fact that he pointed out that we don’t know what the future brings, but that it would be a cruel joke of the universe if we weren’t to work out. However, I’ve never really had anyone say that they wanted to spend their life with me. Any doubt I had prior to that moment seemed to disappear and the hopefulness has yet to wear off.

Most of my doubts were caused by initial fear of our differences. But as I allowed myself to not necessarily be “right” and I remained as nonjudgmental as possible, he grew to be something I never expected.

Both of us have been exposed to  fast-paced marriage traditions. His mother met his stepfather online and then he moved from Germany after several meetings to marry her. Not only did I just witness the whirl wind romance with my sister Meggan, but it turns out my father’s parents met and wed fairly quick as well.

The kicker: the couple who introduced us only dated for a few months and then were married. Seven years later, they are still such a strong model of love that lasts. I know that he and I both take the commitment pretty seriously and I can’t even believe that the discussion resurfaced again as we cooked for the first time in my home.

While cooking turkey fajitas, he told me that my father had stopped by the shop that afternoon to pick something up. Ronnie, his uncle,  told him later that his “father-in-law” had stopped by. At first Jon was confused, but then once the connection was made, he laughed.

I reveled silently, as to not make any assumptions. Hmmm. Most guys would not even retell that story due to it’s nature. He could easily have not told me at all, but part of him wanted me to know that they joke on that level. I was about to tip my head to overanalyzation, when he made the comment that the thought of marrying me wasn’t scary.

What?

I knew the thought was mutual for me. I mean who wouldn’t want to marry me? Turns out, quite a few. But could it be that there is someone actually really right for me? Or was I just starting to like the idea that he felt that way?

Stop overanalyzing.

When I listen to my heart, and more than just the accelerated beating pace when he touches me with his any part of his being, I feel a sense of security that I have longed for. He has seen my whole family, my whole history, my whole self, and yet he embraces the future.

Maybe we just both wanted to find one another. He had once said over the phone, “could this be it?”.

I was starting to reflect the possibility with each passing day. I felt more vibrant, yet I no longer had this drive. Most people would say the drive is what was to make me. But what they never saw behind closed doors was that same force drove me to self destruction.

With him, I face my insecurities and welcome the challenges in a much more peaceful manner. And I say to myself that as long as we can move forward through a few phases of our life, then maybe this can lead to our mystery ceremony.

Tradition versus Elise.

I am open-minded and accepting, but I am still a Cajun. And a Cancer at that! Home and family is a big part of me. So when it comes to ceremonies, I still want to be a part of what everyone else has done. But then there is a part of me that says “Change it up!”

While I sat in St. Joseph’s church (which is now just two blocks away from my house) for Meggan’s wedding rehearsal, my father made the comment that he wouldn’t have to worry about this hoo-rah for me, because I would probably have everyone outside, barefoot in a field somewhere.

I laughed because I saw its plausibility, but then told him I couldn’t specifically say because I did not know who my groom would be. He replied that he would, “probably be some moon martian just like you.”

Moon martian. Great.

So maybe I should embark upon something out of this world. It’s funny that finding something steadily comfortable is what will take me to such great heights.

But I wouldn’t make any bets yet. It’s still the honeymoon. And we’re still just talking jibberish over omelets. I would be lying though, if I said I wouldn’t be terribly hurt if these thoughts ever got scrambled.

Faith, my dear. Faith.

God speaks through a wasp

I sat on this random pew in the hallway near the receptionist’s office at the Jesuit Spirituality Center. I was here on a women’s day retreat with my mother and aunt. The first lecture talked about acceptance and how to cultivate happiness. I had just finished my first week of teaching curriculum and some of the presenter’s questions were really hitting home.

Do I let other people take away my happiness? Because I think happiness comes from outside situations based on my own agenda? Do I react with anger based on my own  fear and insecurity?

Hmmmm. When I yelled at my kids this week because they weren’t paying attention, was it really because I was scared shitless that I would not be able to teach them the material?

YES!

So after the first presentation, we were instructed to walk throughout the campus grounds silently. No talking to Mom or Carla. I walked to the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee then I strolled through the library. Out of all of the literature there, I was attracted to “Living Catholic, the Catechism.” For 10 years I have studies almost every other religion except for the one I lived the first 18 years of my life. Based upon my current set of situations, now more than ever I felt I had to explore this religion through a matured pair of eyes.

I carried the book to that pew. I read through the first few chapters, when suddenly I heard this loud buzzing sound. I looked up to the front door, which was surrounded by large, uncovered windows, to see see a huge yellow jacket wasp flying repeatedly into the window. I thought it was on the outside of the window and was just a distraction from the moment, so I started to read again.

A few sentences later and the buzzing seemed to get louder and louder–demanding my attention. So I started to watch the wasp and realized he was actually on the inside of the window and he was trying to escape I watched him jump from pane to pane. Scratching. Buzzing. Trying to escape.

I felt I could do something to help out this little fellow. I got up and opened the door. I thought maybe he would feel the breeze and follow the wind to his escape. But he just kept flying into the glass.

Other retreaters were entering the door I was holding open-they just thought I was being nice. I was just patiently waiting to see if the wasp would get my gesture. He didn’t.

I went back to my pew while the wasp stayed in the same place. It made me wonder, how often when I wanted to escape was God holding the door open and I refused to follow the breeze? How often did I just bang myself against the glass? Like the wasp, maybe I just wasn’t ready for the escape at the moment.

I walked back to the retreat room with the sound of the buzzing in my ear. He may not be ready for the wind, but I think I’m ready for the current.

The latest epiphanies

I couldn’t sleep after the conversation with my cab driver. It was 1a.m. by the time I made it back to my hotel room. I knew I only had 11 hours left in this city that I had grown so fond of so quickly. I drifted in and out of sleep and by sunrise I had made my way to the cafe to write out my internal dialogue.

I will share two works that I composed as I sat in front of the large window and watched Portland for the last time, while I sipped my cup of Stumptown brew.

ONE

So far my favorite people on my journey have all been older people: Beth, Freddie, Uncle Edgar, and David.

I guess when it comes to meeting random people, I have enjoyed the wisdom of my elders. Maybe because they can see me.

But here is what I realized this morning. Traveling brings out the best of me because it’s a perfect balance of trying and not trying. I just chill out and do my own thing. However, I present the best version of myself physically.

Don’t ask me why I’m really writing all of this down. I think I can do this in Lafayette, I just don’t. I guess it’s because writing feels like home to me. So when I’m not at home, I have nothing left to do but let it out. However, I’ve never been gone long enough to know if I can handle it for an extended period of time.

I’ve always had the notion in the back of my mind that I go back to reality in a few days. But at the same time, it’s easier to get work done when no one calls you from home or from a job. I’m a drifter at the moment. Free as a bird.

Who knows how long it will be before I get this opportunity again. I think that’s why I like Portland so much. It’s a comfortable city. But I don’t really know anyone, so I don’t have any obligations.

But I feel the universe wanting to use me. Or me wanting to use myself.

TWO

I don’t want to leave this behind. I don’t want to leave my creativity.

Here no one expects anything from me. No one knows my potential. I can just sit back quietly and read and write and no one thinks anything of it.

It’s not Lafayette’s fault. I talked too much. I let everyone know what I wanted to do. So when I go anywhere, we talk.

And I all I end up doing is talking.

Who knows, I can move somewhere where no one knows my name and I can get caught in the same cycle. All I end up doing is talking and then inspiring other people to cause their own action.

Or, I can finally do everything I have always wanted to do, which is to buckle down and act. ACTivist. LIVEr.

Being away from home gives me the motivation to work faster. Because I want to end up there to start the settled part of my life.

So the sooner I get away, the sooner I put things into action and the sooner I settle.

I needed to see this. I needed to feel this. I needed to understand this.

I know.

I know.

It’s time. I am prepared.

My Moroccan Cab Driver

I had a life-encouraging conversation with a cab driver form Morocco, the country Penny Lane wanted to travel to in Almost Famous–one of my favorite movies.

It was one of those moments when you felt like you met someone who introduced you to someone who haled the cab with the driver with whom you were meant to exchange words.

I was on Facebook earlier that afternoon chatting with Val. She was in Austin, I in Portland. She told me she had a friend who lived here who I just had to meet.

A little back story. The whole reason I know Val is because of a mutual guy we both had a thing for. We often pick on him and say the whole reason we both liked him was for us to end up becoming friends.

Well, her friend Kate had been living in Portland for a few years. Val sent me Kate’s info and after a few rounds of phone tag, she came meet me at this trendy restaurant. We discussed how Val and I had met and she told me she remembered the incident.

These are reasons I do not believe in coincidences.

Anyways, Katie took me around the Northwest part of Portland, which I hadn’t seen yet. We drank and hung out with some other locals: one who told me about a girl he is in grad school with who wrote about the travesty of Katrina (the girl’s last name is Trickey). The other guy was from south of Savannah, Georgia and we talked about the South.

Another anyways, Katie and I both realized how tired we were and she was going to call me a cab. She ran outside of the bar to conduct the search and ended up haling me one that was already outside.

We say goodbye and I hopped in to find this 40ish black man driving the cab. He and I strike up a conversation and I say I’m just passing through Portland.

This sparks a whole discussion on what exactly is passing through. He says he is a child of the planet and has traveled the world twice over. I am completely understanding what he is saying and we catapult ourselves into this very deep talk.

We crossed labels and cultures and barriers that most people won’t allow. We were both so astounded as to just how much we understood one another on a universal level.

Yet again, it was one of those conversations that I don’t think I can adequately capture.

The one thing we both emphasized though is that there is hope in this world.

One of the things that gives me hope is that I have reached this level of universal understanding.

I am from South Louisiana. We are the last to get anything. The fact that I have these types of conversations on almost a daily basis with people from my state gives me hope that there is a larger understanding taking place within the human species.

I tell this to the cab driver and he is flabbergasted. He then tells me about this monkey theory about a single monkey evolving and another monkey modeling that monkey’s action. Eventually, there is this exponential growth of monkey understanding and that’s how it becomes an evolutionary cultural custom. It’s all in the exponential sudden spurt.

That’s how I know something big is about to happen. It’s the whole reason I had to get away from the South. I knew in my heart that something is taking place in humanity that most of us don’t even realize. You can find it in the most unexpected places.

We can’t compartmentalize how we find truth. But as humans, we try to figure out everything. This life is not meant to be understood. But we spend lifetimes trying to say that the answer comes in a certain form. However, when you let go of the expectation, the answer shows up in an unexpected fashion.

We have to let go and trust one another.

We stayed parked in front of the Ace hotel talking about these universal ideas for five minutes. Both of us were so excited to have found someone who “gets  it”. Neither of us wanted to part ways because we both knew it could be a while before we found another soul to share this truth.

All we did was tell one another to pass along the peace and hope that it does exist.

His name was David. We shook hands after formally introducing ourselves and smiled.

This is the Liver philosophy. This is life. It exists. I found it in Portland. I have found it everywhere. It is me. It is you. It is now.

My Ben Harper Experience

I couldn’t stop thinking of that djembe. I have wanted a drum for a while. Not because I’m even half decent at keeping a rhythm, but sometimes you just need something productive to bang on.

I found the perfect little companion at the Folk Music store in Claremont. It was only $100, and at that size normally they run for at least $150.

We were headed that direction anyway, so it only made sense to stop and see if it was still at the shop. To my delight, it was.

I call this a serendiptous purchase. It happened once at an Artwalk at home. I saw this turquoise ring that fit perfectly on my ring finger. I wanted it badly, but thought patience was the route to take. So I walked around for hours and went back at the end of the night. It was there waiting for me. I have worn it almost everyday since.

This same feeling arrived to me when I saw the djembe still there. It has this deep soulful sound when you beat the middle of it, yet the “ping” when you hit the side of the rim keeps you yearning for the next strike.

I grabbed a $9 tambourine before I went to the counter and I couldn’t wait to start my Partridge family.

Nick had found a smaller drum and a small Ben Harper pin and as we were both checking out we started small talk with the cashier. The reason the drums were so cheap did have to do with the recession, so I felt better about stimulating the economy.

However, the most interesting point is when the conversation turned to Ben Harper. There was a lot of memorabilia and albums available, even on vinyl. But there really wasn’t any other artists featured there.

Turns out, the store was opened by his grandparents. He grew up in the store. His grandparents passed away (God bless their souls) a few years ago and now he and his family run it.

So I saw my Ben Harper in New Mexico and the first drum I ever buy is from Ben Harper’s store.

It still gets a little weird.

Nick and I left on cloud nine and as we were driving on I-5 North, I asked him to plug in my iphone. Somehow, he managed to accidentally call my friend Val.

I was ecstatic to hear her voice and learn that she was with our friend Beth (or as I like to call her Viv–I’m Liv…come to think of it Val and I are Sly and Slick…I have too many nicknames). We all know one another through weird coincidences, which we don’t believe are coincidences at all. But alas, I digress.

I told them the story and they laughed because they had literally just bought the new Ben Harper c.d. and were listening to it for the first time at that very moment.

Somehow we are all connected through Ben Harper. It’s like 6 degrees of separation. Is Kevin Bacon going to show up?

If I end up meeting Ben on this trip, I would not at all be surprised. I just like how I have followed signs through this whole trip and I’m starting to notice when I am in the right place at the right time. I kind of ignore the rest…so my theory is always right.

I’ll end with a few quotes from some of Ben Harper’s songs. I find them appropriate for what I’ve learned thus far:

“I knew a girl. Her name was truth. She was a horrible liar.” -Diamonds on the Inside

“So before you knock it, try it first. For you’ll see it’s a blessing and it’s not a curse.” – Burn one down

“And it’s so hard to do and so easy to say. But sometimes, sometimes, you just have to walk away.” -Walk Away

Vegas. Day 2

SO I woke up and tried to remove the stick from my derriere and thought to myself, “I’m in Vegas, let’s have some fun.”

Fun turned into us eating breakfast at McDonald’s because that was the cheapest place in our hotel. For $3 I got coffee, a parfait and apples. Not too bad.

We didn’t wake until after noon, so we showered and decided to go meet Nick’s uncle Edgar at the Gold Coast. Casinos really do crack me up. These people just sit there and pull handles or poke at buttons while these multi-colored bright lights shine on their faces and all you hear are clanks and bells and bad karaoke. You smell stale cigarettes, desperation and bulky buffets.

Oh yeah, didn’t I say I was supposed to remove the stick?

Well, we walked through the casino to one of the little bars where this jazz band was playing. They were actually pretty good. Of course there were Sinatra covers followed by salsa music. Uncle Edgar stuck out from the crowd, his white hair and regal demeanor commanding attention.

Nick and I watched him guide his dance partner–we assumed it to be Clara–around the wood-grain floor. He looked so happy. They all did.

It made me wonder about retirement. So many of the couples here seemed to be celebrating the end of their life in style. Edgar had told us about how the majority of them meet once a week for dancing and most of them frequent the shows and casinos around town. I’m used to elderly people in South Louisiana who retire with their grandkids. It was refreshing to see older people push it until the end.

Me, Nick, Edgar and his partner, who did in fact turn out to be Clara, went to the Cortez Room for dinner right at 5 p.m. I thought it was going to be one of those buffet lines, but it turned out to be a very hoity-toity spot.

We started with wine and bread. Nick ordered a 22 oz. Prime Rib and I the pistachio-crusted salmon. The food was exquisite but the company was better.

IMG_0064

IMG_0065

Clara and I talked about her time when she was younger and she lived in Germany for two months. She was originally from Tyler, Texas, but had moved to California. She had been all over the world. We talked about hopes and dreams and the future. For some reason, I was spot-on with my jokes and quick wit. We couldn’t stop laughing. She ended up introducing me to her friends and I took her number down so I could call her if I was ever in Vegas again.

IMG_0066

We all hugged at the end of the meal and sadly parted ways. Nick and I headed back to the Excalibur to wait for Derek to get in. I played video poker while Nick watched a soccer game in one of the bars. There were actually very talented singers performing classic karaoke favorites as the background music.

IMG_0079

Finally Derek arrived. We hugged and he looked around with a hint of disdain on his face. I empathized his expression and we laughed about the irony of us both being there. The three of us decided to stroll through the Strip, but not before getting those annoyingly big daquiris from Dick’s.

So for anyone who has never been to a Dick’s Last Resort, it’s a restaurant where the servers get paid to be complete assholes. The guy who checked our id’s made a comment about Louisiana being white trash. We laughed about it, but thought of how many people from home would have probably hit him, which made it even funnier.

We wandered around looking for something to do. Nick’s goal was to see the dealertainers at the Emperial Palace. The blackjack dealers are impersonators and transition from singing to dealing.

We found our way there, paid $11 for a pack of Camel lights and watched Nick lose $40 to Toby Keith. The Tina Turner-a-like was actually damn good. It was pretty dealertaining.

IMG_0068

We then walked to this other Irish casino where more karaoke prevailed. The first girl we hear was from Louisiana and singing my anthem, “Bobby Mcgee”. She turned out to be from Marksville but now lives in Vegas.

We then walked to the Bellagio to wait for the fountain display. This was by far the nicest casino we went to. The colors were soothing and it seemed so classy. I tried to put $10 in a machine that I thought was the one that was going to help me make it rich, but it turned out to be broken and I had to get a clerk to give me my $10 back. We walked through the lobby that had the most amazing glass artwork, and then made it outside for the infamous fountain show.

IMG_0073

IMG_0075

IMG_0078

My stomach started to hurt, probably from the mixture of salmon, Jack Daniels, and 190. Derek wasn’t feeling the Strip either, so we got some water and cheez its from Walgreens and went back to hotel room.

I really can’t capture the essence of the conversation that took place between the three of us, but I will say the discussion was our whole purpose of going to Vegas.

Derek and I have devised a plan to put together a documentary geared towards third graders through middle schoolers that presents both the history of Cajun culture and current day youth who still live it. When kids think of history, they think of really old people who dance at Randoll’s (a local Cajun restaurant in Lafayette). But there is a whole generation of young Cajuns who live out the culture everyday.

We are now working on a proposal to find funds to go to Canada to do some research and also document some of these college students who are participating in pertinent events to Cajun culture, such as the Festival d’été de Val-d’Or in Quebec City and Congres Mondial Acadien in New Brunswick.

We will have to work fast, but I haven’t been so motivated in quite some time. This is the perfect project for both of us and we are both needing something of this caliber in our lives…appropriately devised at the Excalibur.

We finally all feel asleep after 3a.m. and Derek was headed to Yosemite by 7a.m. Nick and I were going to get massages before we left, but opted to head straight to California. Our time was up in Vegas. We didn’t win money to cover the trip like we had hoped, but the information exchanged at this site will bring us the ingenuity to fund our lives. Or so I hope.

Vegas wasn’t what I expected, but it was what I needed. And so it follows the theme of the trip.

The Grand Canyon…or the Glorious Conversion

We woke up like it was any other day How was I supposed to know I would be changed today?

The drive was an hour and a half to the Grand Canyon. We drove through mountains of lush pine trees and entered the south end of the park. I was really surprised to see so many mainstream tourist spots, such as McDonalds and other fast-food joints.

It was $25 to get into the park. Thank God we had some cash. I didn’t realize you had to pay to get into National parks. Silly Elise. I should really research some of these things before I venture into it; but then it wouldn’t be unknown. At least I’ve been prepared so far.

What I was not prepared for was the sensation that encompassed me at the first view of the canyon. It’s somewhat a shame that a certain four letter word was the only thing that escaped my mouth.

There really are no words that can describe what one may feel at this wonder. It is so vast. No lens can capture a clear picture. Even to the naked eye, there is a mist over the distant canyon. You feel the infinite of life and the spec of time you actually exist all at once.

Mr. Robert had told us while we were in Fort Sumner that it doesn’t seem like this majestic site can exist in the U.S. I wish we were known for more spots like this rather than ignorant idealists.

Nick and I just sat in silence for a moment in awe.

We then walked to another lookout point where there were a few more people. There was a family praying, a Japanese family talking in foreign tongues and a young emo-couple–the guy was actually nose to nose with a squirrel.

As we walked up the path to another lookout point, I noticed how many different languages I heard. When we arrived to the tourist spot, there were translations in over six dialects. It was impressive to feel a part of such an amalgamated space.

We decided to find a shuttle bus to another part of the park in order to broaden our view. As we drove to the pickup spot we noticed a tourist center. We thought it would have information, but what it had was the biggest tourist-trap store ever. Did you know there is a Chase bank in the Grand Canyon?

You can buy Northface products and granola and raunchy paperback books.

My stomach turned. To me there is a place for city and a place for natural environment. I was so turned off that I almost just left, but Nick talked me into taking the shuttle for one more view.

Yet again, thank God for second chances.

We got off the bus and saw tour buses, one which read “Freedom Tour” over the dash. It made me feel a little better. We hiked over a small hill and walked through a cabin-like hotel to see the most glorious vision. We took a right and tried to get away from the hotel as fast as possible. Not too far off the path was a cliff that called my name.

It was quiet and I couldn’t hear anyone else. Nick had found his own cliff parallel to mine. I sat Indian style and slowly exhaled. I then inhaled and closed my eyes. I felt so balanced. I knew there was nothing in front of me except a drop of hundreds of feet. I had no fear. I had no thoughts. I just felt everything. I felt free. I felt like ME.

I opened my eyes to see a rolling canyon, but in the center was a greater crack that looked like a spinal cord that opened into a “V” at the very end of it. I was aligned in the middle and it almost looked like a person lying straight with their legs open to the world. Or maybe that’s just what I saw.

Regardless, I felt open to the universe. I have no reason to hold anything back anymore. I have survived poverty, college, heartbreak and loss…just like most people.

But for some reason, I have been fortunate enough to be placed in a perfect position. I literally can do whatever I want. I do not have any children or a spouse yet. I have all of these big dreams and I can choose one and go with it. I can move or stay at home and I would be completely satisfied. I feel so blessed that I almost feel guilty. But I also know that I have made different kinds of sacrifices along the way that many don’t choose.

It’s the LIVER philosophy. Doing what is right for you, regardless if it works for others. When you do that, you live. And when you live, you become a LIVER. A wise uncle of mine taught that to me two summers ago. It’s a process, but the refining stage has been incredible.

I feel like I have been living wholey since graduation because everyday has been completely new and completely different. I have not done one thing the same or mundane. I know that stage may happen again, but it won’t be for a while.

These were some of the clarifying thoughts that went through my brain on the top of that  cliff. I stood up, stretched my arms to the sun and then stood in mountain pose.

I looked over and saw Nick sitting on his rock with his legs dangling into the oblivion. Our mother’s would be freaking out if they saw this.

We walked the trail back to the car, took a rock for Mooney’s third-graders and then drove off. I know. It’s kind of bad karma to have a spiritual experience and then take something. But it’s for a class! Nick even drew a comic strip on the way back to Flagstaff depicting how we would get arrested for taking a chunk of the canyon. It ended with two guys in a cell, one saying he was in for murder, when Nick responded saying he took a rock from the Grand Canyon, the slayer replied with “You Bastard”.

Ironically, we ate lunch at McDonalds. Two American novelties: Big Macs and the Grand Canyon. I hadn’t eaten there in ages, but for a few bucks I got a side salad, yogurt parfait and a grilled snack wrap. Not too bad for fast food.

We made it back to Flagstaff to walk through downtown again. We decided to postpone Vegas in order to take in the city one last time. I bought some “Maverick” shades at a boutique, along with some purple tights and several bumper stickers.

One of Nick’s fraternity brothers had picked up his sister in L.A. and they stopped to have some coffee with us before they headed to Tuscon. Oddly enough, his sister turned out to be one of my former Sigma sisters.

We started chatting and both realized that Austin, Texas may be in our near futures. Funny how things work out.

Nick and I made it back to Marcus and Eva’s in time for a grilled feast. We drank a Flat Tire beer and called it a night. I can’t wait for those two to move to Lafayette. It’s such a blessing to find such wonderful people who you get along with. Plus, I really hope I can return the hospitality that was shared.

Life on the Road

I’m days behind writing about the details. I’ve done the majority of the driving (and not because I’m a control freak). Driving an average of seven hours a day will take a lot out of you. We have traveled over 2,000 miles so far and have experienced so much in between. I have stories about Santa Fe, Flagstaff, AZ, the Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam and Las Vegas.

Right now I am sitting in Nick’s aunt’s house in a suburb of L.A. in California. I have been on the road for exactly two weeks and still have another two to go. We tried to map out the rest of the trip and we will be pretty non-stop. Our next goal is to reach Yosemite and then the Red Woods Forest. Our aim is to make it to Oregon by mid-week then Colorado by Monday.

It’s exciting, but tiring as well. Las Vegas drained me and not because I boozed it up. There is so much energy in that city that it drains you. I passed out for two hours after the five hour drive here and I’m still exhausted.

I’m starting to realize that I like visiting smaller towns over big cities. I like CULTURE! Who wants to see Olive Gardens and Best Buys? Give me the charming mom and pop shops any day. The workers are friendlier and the monetary exchange seems more meaningful. I don’t mind stimulating local economies.

Anyways, I think we are going to Pasadena tomorrow. I can’t wait to write some more. I really do want to thank everyone for the support. It makes it a lot easier to get through the rough days…and believe me-there are hard times on the road. But it’s worth it. I have eaten the most “mamazing” cuisine and met the most interesting souls. My mind is reeling at this point because I don’t even know where to start trying to piece some of this together.

I’ll finish for today with a quote:

“I wish I would have counted the freckles on my wife’s body while she was still alive, because if I would count yours, I think it would be the same!” —Uncle Edgar (explanation to follow)

Self actualization-Star Dust

Self actualization:

I’m a woman. I don’t think I enjoy “roughing it”. I don’t have to be one of the guys. I don’t like to be dirty. I don’t like having hairy legs. I don’t like being the only female around a bunch of dudes…they need their own space.

I think I’m supposed to have short, cute hair. It’s way more functional. I’m supposed to have smooth legs, because when I look down and see my legs, they don’t look or feel like mine.

I slept in the most disgusting place ever- to my standards. I will leave the name anonymous because the staff was super friendly and the other guests were quite intriguing. It was a complete sausage-fest though, as most hostels are.

It wasn’t horrible for dude standards, but it definitely woke me up to my femininity. I slept on a top bunk of a mattress that probably was infested with some type of disease. I had on camouflage pants, and a sweater. I slept with no blankets and a pillow of sketchy descent. I was afraid to turn over because I thought the bed would have collapsed onto the Australian guy underneath me.

I was very proud of myself for making it one night. I would have been able to handle one more night of sleeping in a room with six other guys from around the globe, but I’m glad I ended up in Santa Fe for the weekend instead.

I realized when I hiked a trail the next morning that the only way I am competitive to male standards is when it comes to physical endurance. When it comes to germs or cleanliness, I am a girly-girl. This is a huge step for me to admit.

Another realization I have come to understand is that I have mega-control issues. I don’t really let other people in or trust them to do things for me. This actualization occurred when Nick pointed out that I wouldn’t let him drive.

OK. For my defense, I just bought Louis and I was a bit nervous to turn the wheel to someone else. If something were to happen, which I doubt it would, I wouldn’t want to think that we could have avoided the situation. I’d rather just take the blame.

However, once I did give it over, I was able to get a lot more done. I could write while he drove…or read…or sleep…or whatever.

I guess I’m just so used to doing everything myself. I don’t want to get used to someone being there because one day they may not be. But I guess I can handle the situation if they aren’t there and should appreciate it when they are.

In conclusion (for the moment), I’m starting to understand more about myself after one week on the road. I’m starting to see what I am, and what I am not. It’s quite lovely.

The stars are amazing in Santa Fe. It astounds me to think that we are all just star dust. Poof.