Forks: the play by play (Day One)

My favorite barista at Borders makes the best designs in the coffee.

I'm at Borders right now. And I think I've consumed too much coffee because I'm suddenly feeling very exhausted. But I've been reading The War of Art by Steven Pressfield and in it he talks about this thing called "Resistance", which is basically an evil force that's only goal is to keep people from doing their creative work. And so I want to use the excuse that I'm too tired to blog because I've spent the last two hours working on another project that I'm committed to (putting together a party kit resource list for Polaris Project) but I know my excuse is Resistance and so I'm resisting Resistance and plugging away.

Wow. I think that's the longest starting paragraph I've ever written.

Couple of notes before I get into the goods about Forks:

• As you may have noticed, I haven't been writing everyday. I've decided that it doesn't matter. Blogging daily is still the goal. But, I can't make up for the past and I don't care to beat myself up about it. Every day is a new day to try again.
• The other day I was struck with what I considered to be brilliant idea. Rob Bell is going to be at MHGS in Seattle on October 30th to talk about the Art of the Sermon. He did a huge conference in Michigan a year or two ago called Poets, Prophets and Preachers. I really wanted to go, but, couldn't, of course. They are eventually coming out on film, but I feel like I've been waiting for a very very long time. So, my brilliant idea was to actually go to Seattle - to make the money via cleaning jobs and fly over there. I talked to Jermaine about it and I decided to pray and then, if I still felt compelled, to go for it. The very same day I was thinking all of this, I happened to check Rob Bell's website aaand unbelievably it had been released!! 5 hours worth of film! Haha! It was like God speaking a big fat NO into my brilliant scheme. A-mazing.
• Last night I had the great fortune to go on a date with my husband. We don't get many of those. It was magical. And while on the date I discovered my love of being a tourist in my own town.

Me in downtown Bethesda. It's kinda beautiful there.

We found this at the gift shop and the Regency Hyatt
in Bethesda. Seriously, is this the best Maryland can do??

We went to this awesome French
Country cafe for breakfast called
Le Madeleine. I think it's my new
 favorite restaurant.

Okay. Now we can get on with Forks.

Friday

It was mad. We got up at 2:30am in Gloucester to catch a 6:45am flight in Richmond. Effectually, we were tired before we even started. But we didn't care. Both of us had been looking forward to this trip for so long, we could hardly sleep anyway. Neither of us have mastered the art of sleeping on a plane, either, so we read and squirmed in excited anticipation.

Andrea got the window seat. 

We got to Seattle around 11am (which was 2pm to us). We had to wait a little while for the car rental which annoyed us because we booked it in January. But the rental people were really nice. And, in all fairness, since they didn't have any mid-size cars readily available, they offered to upgrade us for free, but I wouldn't do it. I had to drive and I'm not comfortable in big vehicles on familiar roads. I didn't want to even think about driving a mini-van in Washington.

The first thing we noticed when we stepped off the plane was that people seemed generally more happy in Washington than they did on the east coast. And, as a result, it seemed, they were nicer. We drove through one of the sketchier parts of Seattle and ended up at Vince's, a cute little Italian restaurant. I got pizza, something I'd been craving for days. Andrea was starting to get a little antsy; she'd planned for us to be arriving in Forks about now, but we hadn't made it out of Seattle. And to make matters worse, my coffee addiction was rearing it's ugly head, so I had to stop and postpone our trip for another couple of moments.

Our first glimpse of downtown Seattle.

Finally, at around 3:30pm, we made it onto the ferry. We parked and walked around. It was a short ferry ride, but it refreshed us somehow. And it gave us the energy to begin the last leg of our trip.

After breathing in airport air all morning,
the Washington wind was glorious.

From the ferry to Forks took about 3 hours. And it was there that things started getting strangely beautiful. We had no idea what we were in for. Route 101, which takes you from Port Angeles to Forks is just swimming with the kind of beauty that makes words fail. The entire journey took about 20 hours and we were verifiably exhausted, but, at this point, more than ever, WE DIDN'T CARE. We knew it was going to be worth it.

The beauty between Port Angeles and Forks.

On this day we watched the sun coming up
at an airport in Richmond, VA and watched it
go down in the Olympic Peninsula in Washington.

About 5 miles away from Forks we got pulled over for speeding. It was the craziest thing. Normally, I'm terrified in those situations and it felt like a ticket would be a bad start. But, I didn't feel scared, I thought to myself, "Eh, it wouldn't be the end of the world." The cop approached our window . . .

He was so nice. 

He said he'd pulled us over because we were going 60 in a 50, but that 10 miles over wasn't that bad. He asked where we were going and when we said Forks, he smiled kindly. And he knew the owners of the Inn where we were staying, he remarked that they were very kind. He told us he didn't want to give us a ticket and ruin our weekend, he just wanted us to be safe. What we thought might be a bad omen, turned out to be a highlight of our trip!

This was just after getting pulled over. We finally made it!

FINALLY, at around 6:30pm, we made it to the Miller Tree Inn. I'd never stayed at a Bed and Breakfast and I wasn't expecting the sheer amount of hospitality. It was overwhelming and wonderful. I think I almost cried, but then, as you know, it doesn't take much. Forks Chamber of Commerce has dubbed this B&B "The Cullen House" and it was over-the-top. Bella's birthday decorations hung up everywhere, you could pick which Cullen you thought your room belonged to, and Edward had even written us a letter! The thought that went into everything was humbling.

So so wonderful.

Andrea was so excited to meet
Pocket Edward!

The extra touches were the best.

We put our stuff in our room and drove down to the only Mexican restaurant in town to grab a bite to eat. I felt too tired to eat but I wanted a drink, so after dinner we went to the only grocery store in town to grab some bottled water and a bottle of wine (there was a fridge (stocked with soda), wine glasses and a bottle opener in our room!). We came home to rest up for what we knew was about to be one of the best weekends of our lives.

A waiter at the restaurant jumped in this
shot at the last minute. :)

Oh good grief. I wasn't expecting the first day narrative to take so long. Guess this means I'm going to have to divide it up. Day two coming tomorrow. ;)

Things I Want to Write About

[Editor's Note: Sadie took this picture with my phone and a mirror "so that you can remember me with it, mommy."]

I don't think I get writer's block. I think I get too much stuff in my head. Like a clog. It's not that I can't think of anything to write about. It's that I just listened to a sermon in which Rob Bell talks about forgiveness and a couple of blogs ago [I think] I talked about these one or two people that I thought I had forgiven but now it seems that my unforgiveness is biting me in the ass.

Or that I'm reading the Blue Parakeet and I've just gotten to the good part [in my mind] about women in church ministries and it totally warms my heart and I feel absolutely blessed to be alive for "such a time as this."

Or my dog. I love him SO much. And there was a time when I was an absolute failure as a pet owner. And so a couple of years ago I made the decision not to have anymore pets until I was sure I could be good to the animal(s). Getting Sebastian has been rewarding and emotional. I honestly feel like a good dog parent now. And he loves us. (:

Or this cliché but insightful book about the supposed four personalities of women that I started last night [A Woman's Guide to Personality Types by Donna Partow]. They are:

• Popular - Footloose and fancy free, loud in every way, messy, loves to be center of attention
• Powerful - Dominating and controling, bossy, really good at getting the job done
• Perfect - Neat, meticulous housekeeper, detail-oriented, frugal, a place for everything and everything in it's place
• Peaceful - Kind, caring, comforting, nurturer, thoughtful, loyal, peace-maker
  

So I took the little evaluation and apparently I'm this unnatural combination of Popular and Perfect. Which sounds a lot better than it is. :P According to Ms. Partow, I'm either a footloose and fancy free attention hog who learned at some point in life that she needed to try do everything perfectly. Or that I'm a little miss perfect type who ended up taking on the role of the popular chick. I think it's definitely the first of these two options, if this book holds any water. And I don't know if it does, but it's got me thinking that perhaps I'm not being the person God made me to be.

Growing up, I was sort of know as the laid-back one in my family. So much so, that, as you may be aware, I went off the deep end looking for a good time. When I finally cleaned up my act I began to equate getting stuff done and doing it right [like my parents do] with being a good Christian. Eventually I realized that my thinking was a little off, [and I believe it was making me judgmental - a trait that I don't think comes naturally for me]. Unfortunately realizing that I'm wrong and going back to correct the behavior are two different things. And I didn't do the latter.

So, I guess, time for another soul-searching session.

I have other things on my mind too. I want to update my to-do list blog. And I want to create a summer "bucket list" [fun things I want to do before the summer kicks the bucket]. But, ah, I guess, those last lengthy paragraphs decided for me what I should write about. Hmm, I like the freedom of not having a title because it lets me know what I'm thinking about. But I think I also don't mind having a title from the get-go. It keeps me focused. And God knows I need focus. c(:

Tired Tuna

Everything is spiritual. My cellulite is spiritual. Toilet paper is spiritual. The fact that I am a horrible typist who is struggling to repeatedly type the word "spiritual" is spiritual. Your kid's bath toys are spiritual. Consumerism is spiritual. Horseradish is spiritual. Where the heck am I going with this?

Food is spiritual. The earth is spiritual. I was listening to a sermon from a church called Mars Hill in Michigan. Rob Bell, the pastor, told this fabulous story about tuna. Did you know some of the best tuna in the world for sushi comes in right off the east coast of the United States, in Massachusetts? Once it is caught, it's driven to JFK airport in NYC. Next, it is flown to Toyko, to the best fish market in the world. Brokers from restaurants all over the world come to shop at this market. It will be bought, driven to an airport, where it will then fly back to JFK and be shipped to a restaurant in Manhattan and sold under the label "fresh tuna."

Next slide [if you go to Mars Hill, you understand this reference; I don't because I can't see the blooming slide through my computer, but he says it a lot and I think it's poignant and clever].

You need tomatoes, or green peppers or [insert vegetable of choice] in January. Do you:

A) Sigh a long sad sigh and restlessly await summer's return.
B) Fly to Brazil and pick up a couple.
C) Drive to the supermarket, buy what you need, drive back home, make yourself a salad and not think twice about where in the world Food Lion got tomatoes in the middle of winter.

Personally I fly to Brazil because that's just how I roll. But I'm going to guess that a lot of people chose C.

And just how does this questionnaire relate to The Last Ten Pounds? Well, since this is my cyber voice I want to use it to do more than just slim down. I've been thinking a lot about where food comes from. Were the people who worked the fields that produced those vegetable paid a fair wage? How far did the food have to travel? What was the cost of fuel to transport it?

If everything is spiritual then that means this blog can either help bring me closer to my Creator or push me towards vanity.

But, I can't rant about this subject on some High Horse of Gardening, because it hadn't even entered my mind until several weeks ago.

Sure, I recycle. I use those cool new light bulbs [and really I can't for the life of me understand why anyone wouldn't want to [they last for five freaking years [I've heard naysayers claim thir light is "unflattering" [and they take a second to turn on [what? [maybe I just look good in any light, but honestly, I see no difference [and did I mention they last for five freaking years?]]]]]]]. But I never gave food a second thought. Aside from the fact that I believe eating out might be my love language [yeah, I know, that's another blog [and maybe also a trip to my therapist]].

But if God is green, and I think He is, then He cares about this stuff. Just like He cares when I devour a whole cheesecake [gluttony, what?].

So, I am going to make it a point to figure out where at least some of my food is coming from. It's a process. I'm not going vegan tomorrow or anything [praise God, don't know what I'd do without licorice]. If that means I do some research on growing some of my own grub, so be it [and if anyone wants to pitch in and buy me an earthbox, sweet]. If that means I spend some time and money at the farmer's market, super.

Whatever it takes! Whatever it costs! No matter the distance! I'm in.

As long as it doesn't add up to more than 1050 calories.