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The other day I was daydreaming of some of my favorite places on Earth and wishing and hoping and praying for someone to knock on my door to tell me I’d won an all-expenses-paid trip for two to any of those pieces of paradise in my mind.
Any of the original three faves, all starting with M, would be fine by me. Maine. Maui. Montana. I could take a go at any of them. My camera is ready. It always is…to capture this:
Portland Head Light, Portland, Maine
And this …
Kayaking on Whitefish Lake, Montana
Then my mind wandered to a couple of our newer favorites. Oregon. Colorado. …
Which then led me right back to our old standby … where we go every year. North Carolina.
Johnny Mercer Pier, Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina
Each of these places holds its own special spot in my heart, and each has its own special smells, tastes, sounds, sights and feelings.
Maine is where I got engaged and fell in love with being in love. I fell in love with cool, crisp mornings and the smell of the sea. I fell in love with lobster rolls and colorful buoys.
In Montana, I fell in love with the frightening spikes of the tallest peaks I had ever seen. I fell in love with hiking the Continental Divide in shorts, being hot one minute and chilly the next. I fell in love with a lazy raft ride down the river, where I felt the first flutters of the life growing inside me (I was pregnant with our first child at the time).
It was in Maui where I learned my sense of smell is definitely my most powerful, when just stepping off the plane I was hit immediately with the smell of plumeria and pineapple. The most amazing scents that to this day transport me back to the most lush, colorful landscape in the world. I still can’t eat pineapple without picturing myself sitting in the Ritz-Carlton, Kapalua, gorging myself on a most-incredible buffet breakfast…
Each of our special spots has stolen my heart. Each of these places has me transfixed to the point that I swear I’d pack up my bags and move to any of them the second the chance came along.
And I realize now that what makes them each so special is what really surrounds us all almost all the time.
Nature.
Whether it be the beauty of Penobscot Bay, the sunlight dancing on the ripples left behind by schooners heading out for a sunset sail, or the clean air on the ascent up Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier National Park, it’s all about being surrounded by the most breathtaking views. It’s about being close to everything and nothing at all. It’s about being so overtaken by beauty that you don’t know whether to laugh out loud or burst into tears.
It’s that good. I swear.
It’s hard to pick my favorite spot. It honestly is. Because they are all so different. It’s hard to not want to go back to Haleakala in Maui or Mt. Hood in Oregon. Or the Lewis and Clark Recreational Site near Cannon Beach, Oregon.
I’ve been blessed to travel to some of the best, most beautiful sites. It’s hard to think anything compares to them. But I’ve only seen a tiny drop in the vast expanse of what is our amazing, dramatic country. And I know even more amazing spots are out there. And I’m dying to get out there. NOW.
I am so excited that Ken Burns, the most amazing storyteller in a very, very long time, has teamed with PBS for another spectacular documentary. This time, he and his crew hit National Parks. I want to be Ken Burns when I grow up. Or at least one of his photographers. Gosh, I’d even be his unpaid intern. Ha!
So, with that, I leave you with a few photos of some amazing spots I’ve visited. Sadly, a ton of my favorites were discovered on trips before I had a digital camera. And I’m too lazy right now to find photos to scan in. So for now, take these and a promise that I’ll share more later. If you need help planning a special vacation, let me know. I’d love to give you some pointers on where to go to find the hidden gems! And for more travel tips to these and other amazing spots, check out www.nps.gov or www.pbs.org for more about the National Parks documentary! LOVE IT!
Multnomah Falls, Oregon
Cannon Beach, Oregon
Clouds roll in over Haleakala, Maui
Coastal Maine
Breathtaking view of Mt. Hood, Oregon
Hubby man worked in the yard all weekend. Then the rains came. Which brought down a ton of pollen. Which made our yard, flowerbeds and sidewalk look like this.
You do not want to see the roof. Neither do we.
And we wonder why our kids can’t breathe.
Middle Man to his dad: A conversation after Saturday’s baseball game
Dad: So, buddy, who got the game ball?
MM: Zoe. And I don’t agree with the decision. (He’s 6.)
Dad: Oh, really? Why not?
MM: Because you’re not allowed to use your head to stop the ball.
Dad: What do you mean?
MM: Coach said she played a good game and used her head.
hee, hee.
I got an invitation today that would make any mom jump up and down with excitement. I’m invited to a spa for a girl’s night of fun … and for a FREE pedicure, manicure, shoulder rub – complete with fun finger foods and drinks!!!
[Enter girlish squeal here.]
And guess what? I DID NOT immediately accept the e-vite.
Am I nuts, you ask? [Need you even ask the question?]
Well, let me explain.
I cringe a little at the idea of someone being subjected to my nasty feet and my never-touched fingernails. I am one of those rare girls who has NEVER had a manicure or pedicure. Ever. I don’t even paint my nails because I don’t want to draw attention to my hands. When my younger sister got married, my older sister said, “Aren’t you gonna do anything with your nails?”
I just looked at her as if to say, “OK, dumbass. We’ve been over this a million times. No I do not want to do anything to my pitiful nails because they’ll never look like yours even if we have the rest of my life to work on them.”
I know just writing this will lead to people LOOKING [shock!] at my hands tomorrow at work. I know my husband will laugh because he has asked me before why I never wear nail polish. My response: “Cause I’m not a slut.”
OK. I know that’s harsh. Not all sluts wear nail polish. Or is it not all women who wear nail polish are sluts? Well, if it’s fire-engine red and it’s on your fingernails, I leave that question up to you.
I’m totally kidding.
Last year during a work trip to Denver, my husband asked me if I wanted to stop in CVS to buy nail polish. I just looked at him and said I needed a Coke.
We left the store with a VERY nice pale pink (read: clear) nail polish and a Coke. He tried to make me buy RED or BRIGHT PINK. I just thought WTF?
Now, if you’ve never met me you might have this picture in mind of me in high top Converse, boy jeans, short hair and a flannel. Um, no. I haven’t worn that outfit since college!
But really, I am not boyish or anything. I’m just NOT really that girly, even when I try to be. Or at least I try to not draw attention to body parts that suck. My nails would be one of (many of) those parts. My nail beds are tiny and the nail itself has never grown in the right direction. Instead of growing in a nice, elegant, feminine curve, they kinda grow straight out, sometimes even curving UP. My sisters all get a huge kick out of this. They all think it’s a bit disturbing.
My mom says my hands look exactly like her brother’s. Um, yeah. He’s a man. He’s 6-foot-4. And did I mention he’s a dude???
So that’s my nails. Not pretty. Not sure what a nail tech would even do but stare at them and consider them a lost cause. How awful for me and her (or him).
And my feet? Well, let’s just say my husband cringes when he feels my feet literally scrape against him accidentally in the middle of the night. They are like sandpaper. I admit there are cracks.
‘Nuff said there.
I tentatively responded “yes!” to the e-vite earlier today when I found out I couldn’t sit around and contemplate the ordeal any longer. Turns out they’ll only take the first X-amount of people who respond. And I REALLY, REALLY want to go.
So I’ll head to the spa in a couple weeks, embarrassed as all hell.
I’m SUPER excited about it, which is strange. I think I’ve got it all figured out. Till then, I’ll try push back my cuticles (WHERE ARE MY CUTICLES?) and rub Crisco on my feet every night before bed and sleep with socks on to keep the moisture in.
Sound nasty? Yeah. I know. I am that nasty.
But just to reiterate: IAMTOTALLYTHRILLEDABOUTTHIS. Do not think I’m not. I’m just, well, DYING INSIDE to know someone has to see how little I’ve taken care of myself and reverse, oh, about 35 years of girly neglect.
Think that’s lame? I get my hair cut and highlighted about ONCE A YEAR as a Mother’s Day gift to myself. And this year … I didn’t go.
But that’s a whole other story …
Why, why, WHY are my blog posts all smooshed together all of a sudden? I don’t think I’m doing anything different!
(Of course. As soon as I hit “publish,” something magical happened to unsmoosh this one. Good!)
