Uh-oh

The road less traveled. Wait a minute, that's not the road, it's the retaining wall. That left rear wheel is up like a dog at a hydrant.

copyright 2005 Red Convertible Travel Series

MSN photo

Have a happy journey. Happy Thanksgiving!

2005 Red Convertible Travel Series

Thankfulness

I am thankful for the good in my life. That’s easy. I don’t always feel gratitude for the bad and indifferent–until later. Life is tests and lessons–in that order. The ancients used to greet one another with, “…and may you pass the test today.”

My tests lead me to rely more on God and less on myself. The coordination of people, places, and events is unfathomable from my human perspective. I have to let go and let God. Letting go allows me to flow with life. It gets me out of my own way. What I want might be replaced with something better, or not for my good at all. So be it.

I’ve searched the world over
There’s so much to see
My most incredible journey
Getting to know Thee

Today I was reminded to not take myself too seriously when a pre-schooler asked me about my picture ID badge, “Did ja get that in jail?”

coyright 2005 Red Convertible Travel Series

Ode to Celery

Cleaning out my refrigerator, I found a deceased stalk of celery. And I had such good intentions for its use: coarsely chopped and sauteed with green pepper and white onion in Louisiana gumbo; with green pepper and onion in chowder; in Hoover's potato salad with chopped dill pickles; with apples and walnuts in a Waldorf salad; eaten plain or stuffed with almond butter. Hoover says refrigerator drawers should be called "rotters." He's right!

In honor of all the celery I've sacrificed to the refrigerator, here's my

Ode to Celery

The refer knows
you're the one
that stays
until the end
others couldn't
pass the test
fickle
short-term
friends

copoyright 2005 Red Convertible Travel Series

Hiking the Grand Canyon - part 7 1/2 - My Mission

4,000 feet above us, Rim dawn woke me at the bottom of “the ditch.” Curled in a ball and cold, stretching made the bare bed springs squeak. Donna didn’t move. I thought about staying put until she awoke, but I had a job to do. How could I get up without making a lot of squeaking noise? … roll off, make the noise all at one. I did. Donna didn’t move.

My stretched out body awoke for inventory: no headache, socks on my teeth, sore back, hands, arms, and fingers worked, feet moved, toes wiggled, blisters said, “hi,” and my knees shouted. Screamed is more like it.

Easing to a sitting position, I picked up my hiking boots and shook them. No scorpions had taken up residence. Boots on and laced, I eased to my knees to stand up, and made it, glad I didn’t have far to go. Gathering the walking stick, matches, and the prayer mail I’d collected over nine months, I opened the flap and went outside.

The cool, dry air was silent. From a distant camp the smell of coffee brewing confirmed other human life. Our pack was still high in the scrub brush where Donna had placed it - no overnight shoppers. Deer and ring-tail cats didn’t announce their presence, but I suspect they knew about us. Small creatures scurried for their breakfast.

On the floor of God’s magnificent creation, I raised my eyes skyward giving praise and thanks. One by one I lifted each unopened prayer letter up to God, with the hope that the effort made to get here added oomph.

Easing to the floor, I tore all the prayer letters into little pieces and struck a match. They had to be burned, and their ashes left here on earth’s great altar. I might never know if they were answered. It didn't matter. My job was to deliver them. The last shred of paper burned itself out. Before I could get up, peace flooded my soul; mission accomplished.

(more life at the bottom later)

Copyright 2005 Red Convertible Travel Series