air time

changes are happening. i can feel it.
and since facing challenges head-on makes me nervous, i went climbing.
funny how that works.
i can look up at a climb, and feel the butterflies of anticipation, and a little hesitation, but i like it. when life throws me a challenge, i tend to maneuver around it. give myself space from it, do some yoga and think about it, and climb.
climbing has a way of clearing things up. hanging on the end of a rope, 50, 60, 1000ft in the air, really puts everything in perspective.
so,
dear newest life crisis,
you will be dealt with later, when you seem less intimidating, for now, i will avoid you, and climb around you. i've done it with harder things, i have a knack for finding the less difficult route.

we went and did something we haven't done in a very long time.
we climbed in the canyon.
and i must say, it was amazing.






meet richard.
we climbed with him for the first (and hopefully not the last) time.
warning,
if you currently are, or will someday will become my friend, you will be on this blog.
sorry.

i live in a house.
i climb in a gym.
i update my blog without pictures.

i don't like this.

when did i become so boring?

that's it.
i'm going on a trip

i still buy shoes

some days, i think the person i've become, and the person i once was, would never recognize each other.
if i came across my 18 year old self, in a coffee shop, i would probably laugh. the hair, the make-up, the clothes, the chatter i would undoubtedly be chattering with my girlfriend. i would take my coffee, and be a bit surprised that her eyes were the same blue, but there is where the similarities would end.
i was always told, warned in a way, that i would change in my twenties.
why have i never (ever) listened to anyone?
i changed.

i settled down a bit. i connected myself with reality. i think that may be the biggest change of all, the connection with the world around me. the realization that i am not the be all end all.
i think some of that came in alaska. have i told you about alaska? someday i will.
i changed a little moving to portland, living on my own without a cent.
a little when i came home and moved back and forth from different apartments, dingy and gray, to the wide open spaces of alaska.
then i jumped into adulthood, bought a house, got a job, and irrigated my lawn every 5 days.
and, as you know, that didn't work out, so i dumped the house, dumped all the furniture and traveled in a trailer.

now, my hair is longer, and close to my head. my face is clean and void of make-up. my body even changed. turning from that skinny pre-adulthood blossom, into a stronger, tighter, more capable thing.
i am less self-conscious.
i am less selfish.
i am less jaded.
my coffee is stronger.
as are my convictions.

but,
i still love shoes.
only now, instead of heels
they have sticky rubber on the bottom.

smoke on the water

have i ever told you about my youth?

i grew up on the water, behind a boat.
my family spent the summers on the lake. any lake.
i belong in water.

i, all of us really, started skiing at a very young age. tiny people learning the ski behind a very big boat with a wake taller than us.
the water smoked in the morning, as smooth as glass
and i always went first.
some things never change.






i cannot tell you how happy it makes me to be on the boat again.
to water-ski, my sisters around me, sweet baby hadley experiencing it for the first time.
my mom.
my dad.
these are the times that i love my family the very most, total unadulterated fun.
my dad, i can't even express how my dad is during these time, how he's always been. he loves it too. and he makes it perfect. he brought along lox and bagels, his giant smile as each of his girls jumped into the water, and even after a couple of years not skiing, stood up and cut into the wake. having that perfect baby on his lap, showing her all the buttons on the boat.

even as a teenager, the type that didn't want anything to do with her parents. (i was far too cool in my young body) i spent time with my dad on that boat. always down to go, always first on the ski.
these are some of my best memories


it was the perfect way to start the day,
and i didn't stop smiling all day.

know those days, the ones where simply surviving seems to take every ounce of will?
i've had a week like that.
a week of just barely making it.

i haven't cried.
i want to.
but, i've managed to keep myself composed. i know, if the world senses i'm falling apart, it will push me, just that little bit, and over the edge i will tumble.

i've been yelling, alot, recently. not out of anger, but simply to be heard. i try to not yell, and instead project my voice, have it rise above the chaos. projecting is difficult, and i'm reduced to yelling.
and hiding.
yes, hiding, in dark rooms, behind curtains, around corners, in hope of getting a solitary moment.
just one.
to recompose.

i am lucky, i have people rally around me. help me, offer their strength, and arms in which to fall.
i've needed it, like air and water and cupcakes.

a week.

it is now friday.
it is almost over.

this weekend i will lose myself in the woods.
get far from the noise.
and climb

part two: when the friends arrive

all seriousness was abandoned.

sometimes swimming, campfires, laughter and sport-climbing are the most purifying activities.








i did try my hand at a little trad lead.
while the guidebook claimed it easy, i am here to tell you
it was not.
although, is there such a thing as and "easy" trad lead?


and we stood
above the river
above the valley
touching granite
watching water fall
and waiting for lighting.
all things
in this moment