Take a picture...

...and keep it in your mind.

I've been thinking a lot lately about family and friends.  I think that is fairly  normal when going through a...what would you even call this.  A family illness?  Sure.  Anyway, the other day I noticed: when I hear the name of someone I know, my mind flashes, not just to their face, but to an image of them doing what I most associate them with.  Basically, my mind automatically puts them in the place that I consider that person the most themselves. 

For instance, this is what comes to mind when I think of Kaylee.

This has interesting implications to me and, being vaguely narcissistic, it makes me wonder where other people picture me, where they would consider me most myself.  Of course, I'm sure my image of myself probably differs from how everyone else sees me.  And everyone has a different perspective on everyone else.

So, for instance, when I hear Tyler's name, my mind flashes to him surrounded by his friends and laughing, maybe while in a kitchen covered in flour.  My strongest images of who Tyler is have to do with what a social person he is, what a loyal friend, how he loves taking care of people (often by filling them with food).  Obviously, there are hundreds of other components that make up who Tyler is, but this is how my subconscious most strongly sees him.

My subconscious also sees him shaggy-haired and bearded, but, alas, he believes in shaving now.

My sister, Becca, flashes to my mind telling jokes, making faces, and surrounded by people laughing, probably with our dog in her lap.  Abby is surrounded by books and artwork, smiling her wry smile at me about some inside joke.  My mom is smiling and talking to people, so happy to be around people, listening to them and exuding warmth.  Dad is sitting in his big chair at home, cracking jokes and teasing the family and playing with the dog.

My mind doesn't flash to everyone in a good light.  There are some people whose names I hear and my mind instantly goes to them yelling or angry or cutting and sarcastic (granted, these are generally people I don't know very well and have had mostly unpleasant interactions with).  I would be horrified if that's what people flashed to when they thought of me.  But I think that we most associate people with the emotions or the images they most frequently display around us.  So, if I don't want people to think of me as an angry person, I need to make sure I am infrequently (or never) angry to people.  Rarely unkind.  Almost never rude or condescending.

This is some serious motivation for me to behave better, to not write off my bad moments as "normal" or "human", to not constantly excuse myself and shirk responsibility when I snap and hurt people.  Of course, I'm not perfect (and, as I've learned lately, not always as patient as I could be), but I can at least make effort and, when I fail, make amends.

Anyway, ending this on a lighter note, you should shoot me an email or comment if you are curious about my flashes of you.  I have very pleasant ones about most people I know.  Also, please indulge my curiosity and tell me what flashes into your mind with me.  Because I am just that curious.

Love you all.

I'm not dead!...

...but it has been way too long.

In my defense, I couldn't get access to the blog while in China.  However, the Tyler and I have been (quite unexpectedly) back in the states for...about a month now.  And I have not updated.  Because I am a slacker.

The totally stable face of a slacker.  No crazy eyes there or anything.

Our plans were thrown into chaos after we had been in China for about three weeks.  We were going about our teaching as usual (Tyler's students loved him.  Like, LOVED.  As in, would beg to sit with us at lunch so they could talk with him more) and nothing had happened beyond the usual and expected travel illnesses.  I got food poisoning at the end of our second week, Tyler got it in about the third week, then it went away.

Or so we thought.

Then some pain started.  First in his shoulder.  Then his ankle.  It got so bad he couldn't make the forty-minute walk in to school.  We headed to the doctor across the street from campus after class to see if she could give us some crutches and, like a good doctor, she took his temperature.

And promptly sent us to the emergency room.

After several hours and many unnecessary tests, we ended up in a hallway.  Tyler was sleeping on a gurney with an IV in him and I was in a chair by the foot of his bed squishing the roaches that wandered too near him from their nest in the wall.  Three wonderful people from the school we worked at (two teachers and a student) stayed with us the whole night, waiting for news and making sure we weren't alone.

The next day we were moved to the very nice and longer-stay portion of the hospital (we found out later we were in essentially the party leaders' hospital.  And we got our own room!).  Tyler was seen by several doctors each day and always had between three and five bags of IV fluid put in him.  The pain had shifted to his knees and wrist along with the ankle and shoulder and he was running high fevers nightly.  He couldn't move much, so we spent most of our time trying to entertain ourselves and desperately trying to understand the Chinese soap operas on tv.  I think one character has a disease that keeps her crying at all times.  I never saw her dry-eyed.

We were informed it is actually a Korean show, but it was on Chinese television.

We lived at that hospital for almost two weeks.  The doctors would tell me that they were testing for increasingly more terrifying diseases.  We called our parents.  A lot.  We went from fear of bacterial meningitis to tuberculosis to bone cancer to yellow fever and no tests came back with any answers.  We were losing it.

We finally got an unofficial diagnosis: reactive arthritis.  Turns out, Tyler's body really does not like any sort of strange bacteria and will attack his joints when they find one.  He has now had arthritis for about a month.  Some days are better than others.  Some days he needs his dad to pretty much carry him up and down stairs, most nights he can't sleep from the pain, and days are generally spent on the couch, the chair, and the bed.  If he is feeling good and very ambitious he tries to take the dog on a walk, but generally it lasts about ten minutes.

O yeah.  And we now have a dog.  Our baby.  Her name is Layla and she is a beautiful little German Shepherd.  She is also trouble, but with us as parents, that's not so shocking.

Behold, the cutest dog in the world.

Anyway, we made it back to the states and are currently living with Tyler's parents in Colorado.  I am studying for the LSAT and Tyler is doing his utmost to train the puppy and keep on top of his pain.  Hopefully it fades soon.  I really, really hope so.

In the meantime, we have no choice but to have a sense of humor about the whole thing, as much as that is possible.  Tyler has decided not to swear in front of the puppy (she's just a baby), so his go-to expletive is "SWEET MOTHER OF FLUFFY".  Thanks for that, Kirsten.

Love you guys and sorry I was out of the loop so long.  I will try to keep this updated.  You are all fabulous.

Talk to you soon.

leaving on a jet plane...

...guess I'll be back again eventually.

Whelp, this is it.  The big leap.  The great adventure.  The realm of terror.  In just days. I get on a plane, fly for several hours while my husband tries to slip me sleeping pills to knock me out, and arrive bleary-eyed and, assumedly, extremely confused in China.  It's going to be awesome.  And exciting.

And I honestly can't tell if the feeling I am feeling is abject fear or manic excitement.

Knowing me and my life, it's probably going to be a combination of both.

We are off.  To teach English for a year and learn...just a lot.  About the world.  About life.  About ourselves.  It's all happening.  For real.  This is not a drill.

I will miss so much, including many of you, but I head off into adventure and turmoil, hopefully much of it to be relayed here.

I wish you luck in all of your adventures and I will update life when I get to China.

thoughts on days of sadness and joy...

...even joy of the fairly strange kind.

I woke up last Friday to texts from friends making sure I was not near the horribly sad events in Aurora and to news stations filled with stories of carnage and horror and broken-hearted people.  All of Denver was thrown into a state of confusion and panic.  We were devastated while hearing about all those who were hurt and killed in the attack.  We were confused and angry, wondering how and why anyone would want to inflict so much pain.

The question that comes up whenever we are faced with tragedy is "what do we do now"?  No one can plan around the choices of a madman.  We can't insulate ourselves from all possibility of danger without cutting ourselves off from society entirely.  The sad and frightening truth is that life is fleeting.  Life is fragile.  So, beyond remembering those who were lost, praying for those left in pain, and making effort to love and appreciate friends and family, what do you do?

Turns out, in our case, you go to a renaissance festival.

The ale flowed and the bosoms heaved.

We had planned to go this weekend anyway.  Our friend was having a birthday and it sounded fun to go out and take in the fabulous strangeness.  Though it felt strange to go to something so light-hearted after something so dark, we thought it was necessary.  It was almost like defiance against the sadness.  A passionate "screw you, I say this is not going to take the joy out of life.  I say we are going to go amongst the renaissance folk and have fun!"  And fun was most definitely had.

It is fun to drink beer in hundred-degree heat surrounded by men in chain-mail and women dressed like fairies.  It is funny to walk past the shops full of chalices and war-horns and wonder whether the people in metal or black wool or animal skins are feeling the heat quite as much as you are.  Watching acrobats drag your friends on stage so they can wear tutus and participate in stunts is wonderful (it looked great on you, Todd).  And getting to revel in my own nerdiness by being able to readily identify Link and Zelda or various Game of Thrones characters?  It was great.

But beyond the moments of vague mockery, revelry, and the occasional judging (if you are a sixty-year-old woman, you should not be wearing just a bedazzled belly-dance bra.  And, no, the fairy dust does not make it better), there was a strange sense of joy in all of the dirt and sparkle and madness.  Despite how ugly the world is sometimes, we are still free to laugh and eat and dance and drink and let those freak flags fly.  We get to enjoy the sun (scalding though it may be), and the music (though it may come from pan-flutes), and the sights, and most of all, each other.

When we step away from all the very real ugliness that exists in the world, we remember that there is still beauty and light and warmth out there.  We remember that when life seems most fleeting and fragile, the very things we fall back on are what makes it worth living.  We find ourselves surrounded and supported by love and faith and the belief that the good in the world and in the people around us still outweighs all the fear and evil that we may see.

For everyone hurt and confused and angry and broken and still recovering from the tragedy in Aurora or any other of the very real tragedies, big and small, that we face in our lives, know that there are people around you who love and care and understand what you are going through.  And I hope that some day you will come out the other side of it and be able to see the wondrous and beautiful and incredibly strange things in life that can bring back joy. 

Until then, you are not alone.

you can take the girl out of montana...

...but then she will just be strange in other places.

Sorry I have been slacking off on the writing.  I totally thought I would be updating frequently this summer, but I find I have far less motivation than I thought I did.  Whoops.  I have been being productive in other ways, though!  I have helped fix irrigation and build brick steps in the backyard, I have (successfully!) helped cook spicy Thai shrimp, I have climbed sand dunes and eaten yak tacos, and just yesterday I became an official resident of Colorado.  I am registered to vote, my driver's license says I belong here, and I have a library card.  So it's legit.

Behold, the completely stable face joining your state, Coloradans.

While Tyler is celebrating this cross-over with various victory dances and renditions of "Rocky Mountain High", I like to think that moving does not change me much.  I grew up in Montana and the things I learned there don't leave easily.  They've become ingrained in me, shaping who I am.  And I want to be sure I hang onto all of those things no matter where I go (including China soon!).  So, to hold onto my link to the best state ever (sorry Colorado, but I love my Montana) here are some things that make me Montanan*.

*note that not all Montanans have all these characteristics.  I am quite sure that some of them are just reflections of my own neurosis.  Do not judge my state by my strangeness.

 I firmly believe that unless I am going to a wedding, funeral, or fancy party, there is no reason not to wear jeans.  A nice shirt and jeans can go anywhere.

Hey, if Gaga can get away with wearing this...

Always keep a jacket in the car.  Sure, it may be seventy degrees and sunny now, but things change.  It could be snowing in the next hour.  Seriously.

Yeah, I know what the health magazines say, but I have no problem with red meat pretty much every day.  Steak and potatoes, hamburger in pasta sauce, meatloaf, steak-and-ale pie, meatballs, burgers...I will eat them all.  And I probably won't be sorry.

Don't pretend you don't want it.

I don't really do manicures.  I definitely don't do pedicures.  And my mom has been cutting my hair almost my whole life.  Salons and spas are foreign territories to me and I am fine with it.

Teach your kids to make friends with librarians.  That is how I got out of going to recess all through middle school in fifteen-degree weather.  Reading saved me from frostbite.

They would be playing tag, but they can't see each other.

The best work-outs are when you make a day of it.  Hiking through Glacier Park, swimming and boating in the lake, biking twenty-two miles over Hungry Horse Dam, or just long walks work great for me.  I get so distracted by how much fun I am having, I don't realize how sore I am until the next day.  To be honest, it's one of the only ways I can get a decent workout.

Fall in love with the cold.  I can handle bundling up to keep warm, but if the weather starts out hot, I melt.  Denver is gorgeous and wonderful, but the heat here makes me inert and pathetic for most of the day.  I will always love chilly Montana.

 It gets to 90 degrees and I think I am here.

Watch out for bears.  And mountain lions.  And, for God's sake, do not come into Montana and try to get a picture with the wildlife.  I saw tourists trying to put their five-year-old on a bighorn sheep so they could take a picture for their Christmas card.  Unless you want junior in a hospital for a good while, don't do that.

Big cities are nice.  Montana does not have them.  We get lots of space instead.  I will take my space and lack of people over the terrifying traffic and pollution of cities.  I don't think I will ever feel comfortable with these crazy ant-hill crowds, but I had better get used to it before China.

Boots are much less about looking fancy than they are about trekking through several feet of snow without slipping.  Always keep dressy boots separate from boots to be used in snow.  And never wear Uggs with a mini-skirt.  Ever.

 Please.

Just because I know how to ride a horse does not mean I owned one or rode them around town.  I just could have.  Because I lived across the street from a ranch.  And that was totally normal.

I honestly can't tell if my affinity for flannel comes more from my hipster tendencies or my hick-ness.

Also, braids.  I really like braids.

 *DROOL*

I will never understand how anyone could pay more than...say...fifty dollars for a purse.  Ever.  Designer labels and such don't make any sense to me and I just don't get it.  Clearly, I do not belong in big fancy cities.  Or near the East Coast.

Sweats.  Own them, love them, wear them through the house until they loose all semblance of elastic stretchiness, and then buy some more.

If I am several states away from the ocean and I say "I am going to the beach", I mean the lake.  That's a beach.  For me.

 There's my beach.

...what is a prep school?  Seriously, I don't understand.  Boarding schools are things out of fantasy books and I am almost certain the entire Gossip Girl universe is completely made up.

Rocky Mountain Oysters are bull testicles.  You season them, slice them thin, and grill them.  And they are delicious.

I danced at my wedding reception barefoot.  And I loved it.  Barefoot is wonderful.

If you have not been to Montana, befriended a Montanan, loved a Montanan, or experienced the state in any way other than through a TV screen or a book, get thee hence.  Seriously.  And I hope all the other states that you may belong to treat you as well.