My Morning Walk

On many mornings (and afternoons), I enjoy a walk or jog with my dog, Sadie, along the lane beside the horse barn in our back yard, down into the the little dale where the stream trickles along, and through the fields beyond. Each time, I take note of how fortunate I am to have this land accessible to me, so that I may walk peacefully or run as fast as I can, and so that Sadie can be off-leash, running free through the tall grass. Below is a series of photos from a typical stroll.

Where is your favorite place to stroll or jog?

Our backyard, with the fire pit Ryan built in the yard beyond.

Sadie is ready for her walk.

One of the horses strolls along with us for a bit.

Looking back toward the barn and house, the horses munch on grass.

The "dale" and stream have been bursting with life as of late.

Sadie loves the open fields.

She says, "Let's go again!"

Saying Goodbye to Texas, Part 1

This Saturday, Ryan and I visited the parents of one of our friends in San Antonio. We had a lovely time with good company. We barbecued in their yard, sat around the dining room table during an afternoon rain, and relaxed in the muted, post-rain sunshine after a delicious dinner. As Ryan and I spoke to our friend's father in the yard, I started to shift my focus from listening to our conversation, to listening and noticing him in his environment - a big-picture view. I was reminded at that moment of one of the many reasons why I appreciate having lived in so many places around the country and world: I find myself in the welcoming homes and company of so many wonderful and interesting people that I may not have ever had the chance to run into. There we sat with him, hundreds of miles away from our hometown, the other towns we have lived in (such as Moscow, Idaho, and Boston, Massachusetts), with many friends and family scattered about. We were even an hour and a half drive from our home base away from home, Austin. We were both visitors to San Antonio and to Texas in a way (even after four years, I still don't feel like a true Texan). But what I felt in that moment was an immense sense of place, albeit a portable, nomadic sense of place, like something I could pack up and take with me. This, after all, was his space, the world he had created for himself, and we were invited to glimpse it and get comfortable in it, even for just a few hours.

I have felt this nomadic sense of place and belonging before, over the years of being invited into the worlds of many people out West, back East, and across the seas. We wave goodbye to them all eventually and head on down the road. But we never forget the glimpses, the snapshots we take for our memories, and the people woven into the fabric of our lives.


This evening I went for a jog along Town Lake, the section of the Colorado River that runs through the center of Austin. The immense amounts of rain we have been experiencing in Central Texas has caused all the waterways to swell, forcing the river authority to open the dams full-throttle. Our passive, mopey "river" has become a torrential deluge, charging with its army of white caps through the center of town. There is a point on the North side of the river path where the currents are at their peak (see above). It was there that my jogging feet this evening were hypnotized into a zombie-like stride toward the river's edge. I joined a small group of passersby, mesmerized as I was by the swells rarely seen in our fair city. I could tell everyone was caught in the middle of their usual Sunday evening activities - biking, jogging, strolling - when they stopped to see this strange occurrence taking place in their city.


Like a comet passing through the atmosphere, these waves were a fleeting site not to be missed. For those two minutes or so that I stood there, feeling my elevated heart rate slowing, I felt a connection with the strangers around me and to my city that I have loved for four years.

I am not saddened by these moments, or by saying goodbye to our friends in San Antonio, Austin, Idaho, or wherever we may drive away from in the future. For these are the gifts I have been given for leaping a bit farther from the nest than I could have, and keeping my heart open to anyone willing to answer my knock and invite me in.

Addicted to Non-Fiction

I am a non-fiction junkie. While in my youth I may have curled up with a good book, these days I curl up with a good dose of information, via magazines mostly, and the occasional email newsletter. I devour page after page, always coming back for more, poring through magazines from cover to cover (I’m not much of a skimmer). You may wonder why this could be construed as a negative thing – why, in fact, I am using the word “junkie” to describe something that I essentially enjoy doing. Simply put, I wish to offer a narrative concerning the vast amount of information that is available to us on a daily basis, particularly to women via the magazine industry. Is it possible that we’ve become non-fiction addicts? How do we mediate the vast amount of information available to us?

I have three magazine subscriptions (my guilty-pleasure, “isn’t-it-great-to-be-a-woman” reading): Self, Domino, and Real Simple…oh, and Vegetarian Times, but I consider this magazine to be in a different category than the others since it is not as much of an “indulgence” for me reading-wise (though it does offer indulgent recipes). I also read our local newspaper daily, and with the remainder of time I have in my day for reading (which isn’t much) I peruse the web for political and environmental issues, news headlines, petitions, and blogs. If I find I am slacking in any of these areas, I begin to fear I might be missing out on key pieces of information, without which my journey “through the goalposts of life” will be miscalculated somehow, drop-kicking me into vast, unknown regions of ignorance and despair. If April comes and my March magazine issues have not been read, I resolve to read more vigilantly until I get caught up. I get frustrated when I don’t have enough time to read interesting articles on the web or sign petitions. I want to be able to read my friend’s blog, know what’s going on in Africa, and save the world all at the same time! This addiction to information is fueled, of course, by the fact that it is in endless supply. I often picture the world wide web as that ever-expanding universe we call home (how can something that defies time and space be expanding?!?!). I will never be able to read everything there is to read. So why do I care so much? Why does it matter that I read every gosh-darned magazine each month?

I am particularly drawn to the topics of exercise and nutrition. I have done enough research on these subjects to warrant a degree in them, at least that is how it feels. Thanks to the information I have gleaned over the years, I am proud to say that I have never succumbed to diet or workout fads and have managed to maintain healthy habits overall. A caveat, however, arises when I am out for a run and start to wonder if I am pushing myself above my “heart rate threshold” and therefore burning muscle instead of fat (oh, no!). Or I will happen upon an article stating that running compacts muscles, and thus the thighs that I have been known to obsess about will not, after all, get thinner because of this form of exercise (oh, my god). My head wants to explode at this point. But I love to run! And darn it, I'd rather be strong than skinny any day! But what do I do with all this information? Then I look at my husband, who just runs for the fun of it and doesn’t give a moment’s thought to whether or not he is burning fat or muscle. When I run with him, I sometimes think to myself, “That’s not fair! Why do women have to worry so much about such stupid things?” I will save pushing the gender argument for now, but the fact is, having so much information at one’s disposal can be more menace than help.

So, will I stop reading these magazines and try to wean myself off my non-fiction addiction? Well, no, at least not for now. What I need is to find a way to enjoy reading about these topics while moderating how the information affects me. I appreciate that I am interested in many different things and perform daily activities like reading and learning whole-heartedly. As always, it’s about balance; knowing when you are “reading” into things so much that you have trouble getting out and recreating for the joy of it (like riding a horse!). How do you moderate the information in your life?