A Happy 14th Birthday

 This past Friday Eeyore turned 14.

She chose to go to the water park with a friend.










She allowed her brother to come along as well as her friend's sister who happens to be Tigger's good friend.  So everyone was happy.

The cake was chocolate with raspberry filling and white chocolate cream cheese frosting.

It did not turn out pretty, but was very tasty.

And I managed to scrounge up enough candles.

Happy birthday to my favorite girl!

A Gymnast's Tale

A long time ago a little girl started a little gymnastics class, and fell in love.

As she grew she learned many things.

It did not always come easily.

And it was not always pretty.

But she did not care because she got to jump and tumble and fly.
It was fun.

Sometimes she got ribbons or medals.

But coaches always saw more in her.

Eventually pushing her to really reach for her potential.
Asking her to do more, to do it better.

Her parents had a few stars in their eyes. 
Life, and gymnastics, came to be about fulfilling others expectations.

Her own expectations had risen as well.  Her expectations to be the best, to live up to others believes in her, to not let all the others (coaches, parents, team-mates) down. 

What appeared good, as she reached higher levels and won more medals, was eating away at the little girl.

 Then, after twelve years of gymnastics and 8 years of competition, she fell out of love.

She left gymnastics.

It could not have been an easy decision.  She left her trusted coaches and her good friends with whom she spent more time than her family.

But it was time to try other things - like public high school and soccer and making movies and who knows what else.




Maybe one day she will return to the gym.
Only time will tell what the little girl becomes, but she is a strong person.  She takes with her all the intangible things she learned from her gymnastics career - dedication, hard work, making goals, over coming fears, grace under pressure, and, finally, making your own path no matter what other expect.

The End, or A New Beginning?

Grand Canyon

We went for vacation to the Grand Canyon.  Just us four. It was good.

Like catching a breath of fresh air.

We slept in our tent and cooked over the fire.

We hiked Hermit's Trail and Bright Angel Trail, though not all the way.

Tigger tends to get heat exhaustion easily, and the further down into the canyon - the hotter it gets.  We followed all the safety rules:  hike early, carry plenty of water and salty snacks, take an easy pace, rest when needed.  Plenty of people seem to over-estimate themselves while underestimating the canyon.  They do so at their own peril.  On our first hike, which we choose because it was lead by a ranger, a couple hiking out stopped to tell the ranger they had passed 2 groups, each with a member in heat distress.  It was only 9AM.  A little later another range was hiking down trail taking inventory of all hiking groups and bringing aid to the hiker in trouble.

On our second hike trail volunteers approached nearly every group hiking down Bright Angel Trail.  They asked how far you planned to hike, how much water you carried, what snacks you brought along.  Of all the groups around us, we were the only ones they did not warn about being unprepared or suggest changing plans.  Not surprisingly many people ignored the good advice.  I bet the ended up having a ranger come fetch them, as happened on our first hike.

We finished both hikes with left-overs.  And, after talking to some hikers along the way, we want to make plans for hiking all the way to the river to over night at the bottom of the canyon. Maybe next spring?

On our second full day we went for a raft trip through Glen Canyon from the

Glenn Canyon Dam

 

to Lee's Ferry.  

(The orange balls hung over the river in the photo mark the official beginning of the Grand Canyon)

It was windy.

                    The water was COLD!

And we had a great time.

But all good things come to an end.

(and endings, and new beginnings, are the next post....)

Friday Hike

This morning, after our Friday ritual of breakfast at our local coffee house (which is not a big name chain!), we went for a hike at Whiting Ranch Wilderness Park.  It was nice to get outside, and not just in the front or back yards!

The trail, like so many in this area, winds along in a canyon.  For the first part of the trail you can see the houses of a fairly large development along the ridges above you.  Eventually the development ends.  You know you have hit that spot when you reach the big sign with a large picture of two Mountain Lions taken in the park as a reminder to keep alert.  This scared the heck out of Tigger who started asking every three minuets if it was time to turn back.  I made him push on for another 15 minuets, at least.

We did not see any of the big cats, but come across a bold gopher (specifically a Botta's Pocket Gopher).  They are considered pest, but we found this little one quite cute and engaging.

We discussed the idea of doing a weekly hike over the summer, and possibly asking some friends if they would like to join us. There are plenty of open space preserves and wilderness parks in the area that we could hike a different trail each week.  Sound fun to me!  (And I'll remember my camera next time.)

Missing Ripley

I miss her most when I go for a walk alone along the streets I use to walk her down.  My feet slow past her favorite sniffing spots, and I bow my head and look away as I pass her doggie friends.   My throat tightens and my eyes well-up with tears.  I feel an empty, gaping whole in my heart.  I am missing Ripley.

In early August we said good-bye to Ripley, or German Shepherd Dog.  She had a cancerous tumor in her bladder - incurable and inoperable.  It was devastating.

We adopted Ripley from the Virginia German Shepherd Rescue in February 2004.  I looked at many pictures of dogs on the rescue's site.  Something in her face pulled me to her - it said me and no other, and from the moment we meet we bonded.  She was our family dog, but she was my dog.

She was glued to my side.  For the six and a half years she was with us, no matter who else was home, if I was out she waited by the door.  She slept on the floor on my side of the bed.  She even curled up on the rug outside the shower waiting for me to finish.  She ran with me while I trained for marathons.  She walked with me when I needed to get out of the house.  I returned that love and devotion - more than I thought, more than I understood, until I lost her.

Now I see her shadow in the corner, by the door,  and sleeping beside me.  It gets easier as the days go by, but sometimes, some moments, when I forget, I call her, or look around for her, or wake and reach down for her.  Then I remember.  Then tears well up again.  Then I feel lonely again.

I have stopped going for walks in the neighborhood.  Our move to the new house can not come soon enough.

I am missing Ripley.