An Adventure in the Sand

So, it is said that a picture is worth a thousand words. Looking at this one, you could surmise what happened here. The story, of course, is really quite intriguing.

It’s been one hell of a month. I had two shifts that put me over my 24-hour duty time (became 31 hrs, in fact), got my purse stolen (why is it that when you have your ID with you at all times, no one asks for it, but the minute you lose it, everyone wants to make sure of your identity? That’s another story), had a very important certification exam that I did not study for (yes, my fault. What was I thinking?!?!?) . . . and other factors that has made life a bit overwhelming. Hmmm . . . does that happen to anyone else? I’m not talking about life has lost its meaning, or its color, or any of those depressing thoughts. Just simply that life seems to compress one into a small box and you just want to break out and, well, feel some space. Life has many challenges and demands and we get so mired into meeting them that we get lost in the details. This sometimes causes us to want to pull our hair out and say things like, “what the f*k?”

So, in order to see the bigger picture, organize one’s thoughts, recoup from the stress, and get back to a sane state (where people actually enjoy one’s company), one has to step back and run away for a little while. Go for a sabbatical and recharge. Okay, I’m talking about me. Once in awhile, I find it necessary to disappear for a few days and be somewhere far away from my everyday life.

Alright!!!! I’m getting back to the picture!!!

This is what happened. I was out for an adventure. It’s that much needed fresh air and something different from everyday life thing. It was around noon and it was too late to go hiking by this time, so I saw an endorsement for Pyramid Lake. Why not? It is a two-hour drive to get there, but I’ve always liked driving. I pop in my audiobook and I am lost in the world of fiction, someone else’s world, someone else’s thoughts, someone else’s misadventures.

I arrive at Pyramid Lake, awed by the blue shimmer of the water. In the middle of the desolate desert sits this enormous, beautiful lake. I walk out to the beach and feel the chilly air rustle my hair. I welcome the goosebumps that rise on my arms. I drink in the fresh smell of the cold air. My shoes are covered in sand now. The sand feels good in my palm and so I play with it for a little while, watching as it slowly runs out between my fingers.

I drive a little ways beside the lake and an idea struck me!!!! What an excellent picture it would make if I could get my truck out by the water . . . hmmm . . . that would be a very good picture. I love having pictures of my truck in places I have been. And so, here we go. Needless to say, it was an excellent idea while it lasted. The sand was softer than I thought and, well, a picture is worth a thousand words.

Hah! Foolish me, I thought I could dig the thing out. Yeah! There was nothing around except some small rock and a broken baby seat. What was I supposed to do with that? Besides, the truck was so buried, I needed a tow truck. I knew that! But, of course, I still tried to dig it out. It wasn’t so much to be successful, I don’t think, but just to see what I could do. It was hopeless, of course, but there you are. I finally resigned to what I knew I had to do anyway. It was going to be dark in a couple of hours, I had to get going.

Two men came by in their big truck. Yes, it did cross my mind that being me in the middle of nowhere (remember, it is desert all around and no cell service), it was a very bad situation. How do I get myself in these things? The men couldn’t do anything. They weren’t going to give me a ride to town (it was a few miles away). They were just there to fish. Alright! I trekked to the road. I prepared myself to sit there for a while. It was a highway in the middle of BFE.

Lucky for me, though, three men in their SUV stopped and offered to give me a ride to town. All I could think of at the point was, thank God I’m not fat, because their truck was so crammed with sporting stuff that the guy in the backseat barely had enough room for himself. I think he had a fishing pole almost stick him in the eye when he tried to give me room. By the time we got to town, my legs were numb from being squooshed against the door, but why should I complain? The guy next to me almost lost an eye.

In town, we found a ranger station. They were very helpful and were able to find a local person who can help me. Damn Triple A wasn’t going to cover the tow. It’s because it’s off road, they said. And they were going to send someone from some town 45 minutes away and it would probably take them two hours to get to me. I thought, this adventure is going to cost me at least $200. Great!

Lucky me again! The policeman at the ranger station was able to get in touch with the local guy and he was coming to pick me up. To make things interesting, the policeman said I could wait at some local bar/restaurant. That’s usually where they pick people up. Hey! No problem!!! So, the nice policeman dropped me off and . . . wow!!!! He carried a very big gun . . . I digress . . . Before driving away, he warned me that someone inside will probably hit on me as soon as I walk in. Uhm, well, what else is there to do in this town? If I lived here and I sat at the bar at 3 pm, I’d probably try to pick someone up, too. Anyway, I just stood outside and waited for the tow guy.

5 minutes later, an old Indian guy pulled up. Sheepishly, I said, “so, I’m sure you do this all the time because of stupid tourists like me?” It made him laugh. He was in an old truck. I don’t know why, but I loved the dank smell of it. I love old trucks. Reminds me of the Mountain Provinces and the rutted dirt roads. . . hmmmm . . . a little nostalgia.

And so, there he is. Poor truck! I’ve abused it so much!

All’s well that ends well. I got back to my hotel, showered, and passed out for the night. Getting rested for the next day’s adventure.

Generations of Valor

This Picture is Worth 1000 Million Words.

Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you, Jesus Christ and the American Soldier One died for your soul; the other for your freedom.

Friends are forever

Imagine that! I had some time to sit down and read Marissa’s blogs. Reliving all of our adventures together has given me an extra boost today. I laughed out loud that my co-workers looked up from the movie they were watching (several times) to surreptitiously check to make sure that I am alright. I grinned so much that my face muscles got a great workout. I was transported to that time and place when joy was so much that my spirits soar so high, I couldn’t imagine a world without rainbows and sunshine.

I have been so blessed to have such wonderful friends. Marissa and I share a bond unmarred by time, undiminished by distance. When I close my eyes and think of our many adventures, I am elevated to a happy place and I am glad to have shared many moments with a friend who will always be a part of me.

Thank you, Marissa, for allowing me to be a part of your life, for permitting me to barge into your world, for suffering my insufferable personality. I love you and miss you, my friend. You have a special place in my heart.

Marissa’s blog

Support our Troops

I saw a movie many years ago when I was 10 years old called The Beast. I don't remember the plot of the movie or who was even in it, but I remember the two characters who became friends inspite of being on opposite sides of a brutal war. This movie stuck with me all these years. It demonstrated the humanity behind the turmoil of war and indelibly marked in my young mind the loneliness and pain that the soldiers endured.

Every day, we are reminded of our military presence in so many countries. Every day, we are reminded of the unrest that is happening in our world - an unrest that requires weapons and the men and women who must wield them. War movies are always difficult for me to watch. No one wins. It is a sacrifice for all involved.

I thought I understood about war and the fight for peace and order in the world. I thought I could imagine the difficulties and challenges that our troops experience. I thought I did. Until one day, I realized I didn't and couldn't possibly imagine.

I met Paul in Miami Beach. He was on leave and visiting his family. His friend, Kyle, was visiting with him. As special forces marines and having gone to several missions together, Paul and Kyle had a friendship that only similar experiences together can build and strengthen.

Two days after completing a mission, they arrive in Miami Beach. The next day, Kyle woke up from a nightmare and shot himself. The mayhem of the trauma room did not and could not distract me from feeling Paul's grief as he stood transfixed and helpless in the doorway. Later, in the family room, I sat with him as he cried and talked, became angry, cried again. This was the moment I realized that I know nothing of war, about what our troops go through every day. What I think I know and can imagine is so negligible.

The election looms and our politicians volley words at each other about the justifications or wrongness of our military overseas. I wonder how many of us think of the Kyles of our military and the rippling of waves created as their lives and people around them are forever changed.

To Paul, wherever you are now, you've changed my life in more ways than you know. God bless.

To Tom: thanks for sending this to me. I may not say much about this subject, but it isn’t very far from my heart

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You stay up for 16 hours.

He stays up for days on end.





You take a warm shower to help you wake up.

He goes days or weeks without running water.





You complain of a "headache", and call in sick.

He gets shot at as others are hit, and keeps moving forward.





You put on your anti war/don't support the troops shirt, and go meet up with your friends.

He still fights for your right to wear that shirt.





You talk trash about your "buddies" that aren't with you.

He knows he may not see some of his buddies again.





You go out to lunch, and complain because the restaurant got your order wrong.

He doesn't get to eat today.





Your maid makes your bed and washes your clothes.

He wears the same things for weeks, but makes sure his weapons are clean.





You go to the mall and get your hair redone.

He doesn't have time to brush his teeth today.





You're angry because your class ran 5 minutes over.

He's told he will be held over an extra 2 months.





You call your girlfriend and set a date for tonight.

He waits for the mail to see if there is a letter from home.




You hug and kiss your girlfriend, like you do everyday.

He holds his letter close and smells his love's perfume.






You roll your eyes as a baby cries.

He gets a letter with pictures of his new child, and wonders if they'll ever meet.





You criticize your government, and say that war never solves anything.

He sees the innocent tortured and killed by their own people and remembers why he is fighting.





You hear the jokes about the war, and make fun of men like him.

He hears the gunfire, bombs and screams of the wounded.





You see only what the media wants you to see.

He sees the broken bodies lying around him.





You are asked to go to the store by your parents. You don't.

He does exactly what he is told even if it puts his life in danger.




You stay at home and watch TV.

He takes whatever time he is given to call, write home, sleep, and eat.

























HAVE HOPE FOR OUR TROOPS AND THEIR FAMILIES PRAY FOR OUR TROOPS PLEASE...

Good things happen when you ask

Although I have been looking forward to seeing friends and family, I certainly was not looking to the long flight home; so, I planned on sleeping all the way to Atlanta. I slept for a short while, then got woken up by the frigid air blowing straight at me. After I thawed out the icicles out of my eyeballs and unclenched my teeth from being frozen, I asked the guy next to me if he would be so kind to close the source of the icy breeze pointing at me. I sort of chattered a thank you with my teeth.

Now, that I’ve broken the ice (uhh, no pun intended here), I began to make conversation. You know the usual. Where are you going? Visiting? Going on vacation? Work visit? Pleasure visit? The works. The guy is from Serbia. He’s flying to Belfast. Suddenly, my five-hour flight didn’t seem so bad. After Atlanta, he has an 11-hour flight to Zurich, then more air travel to Belgrade. Whew!!! And he can’t sleep in airplanes. Sheesh! He’s going to be exhausted.

So, I asked him what he does. He said he’s a geodetic engineer. The word ‘geodetic’ was fascinating in itself, but I had no clue what that even means or what he does, exactly. So, I asked him to explain. Let’s say someone wants a new road somewhere. He surveys the land at the proposed site for the planned road and takes measurements. He determines how the road should lay, how high or how low builders should dig, takes the angles of the land into account, and . . . I’m sure there’s more to it, but that’s about as much as my brain absorbed. I was fascinated by this so I asked how these data are gathered. He showed me pictures, explained in simple terms (so I can understand it) how the instrument works (something about measuring angles, depth, vertical and horizontal lines), how it’s used (not that I will ever be able to operate it if one is thrust in my lap and my life depended on it), how the data is translated into hard copy format(something about a CAD program), then printed so it is usable by whoever asked for the survey.

See, good things happen when you ask. I asked and now, I’m going to see roads with new eyes. I am perpetually fascinated by how much each of us contributes to our world. I’m about to make another cross-country drive with Hannah. All those roads . . . I never fully thought of how those went in. I’ve seen the surveyors on the roads before. . . Of course, it’s not just roads that geodetic engineers become involved in. I’m just awed by it all. Just the word ‘geodetic’ in itself is fascinating.