The week was hot. Denver broke a record this week and hit 102 degrees. I really do enjoy summer. I cannot imagine what it would be like if we did not experience some excruciating heat for a couple months of the year. Seasons truly become seasons when we live in the weather for more than one day. As I make my way around town, I try to take note of where certain shops are so that when I have the need for something, I know where to find it. For instance, car repair shops, post offices, Target, my bank, different grocery stores, etc. I recently discovered that there is a Jimmy Johns not too far from my apartment (Yay!!). Inevitably, if I do not write it down I will forget where I saw a certain shop. The closest and longest thoroughfare to me is a wonderful street called Wadsworth. The street runs through the city as well as the surrounding suburbs so I can use it to get to different cities. And for the sake of not getting lost, I've found that everything is on Wadsworth. If in doubt, I go looking on Wads. North or south, I'm bound to find it.
This week was exciting because I was able to have dinner with my mother's sister and later, my dad's brother. I have never been within dinner distance of my relatives. I greatly enjoyed being able to dine with both of them- and in the same week! My aunt and uncle live in Denver and I was able to easily meet up with them at this wonderful restaurant called Racines. My cousin (daughter of my dad's brother) had a baby four months ago, and she and her husband came down from Wyoming to visit. I was the first one in my family to meet beautiful Megan. It was truly a gift to be able to see this perfect little baby. She is quite active and expressive. I was amazed how attentive she was at such a young age. I loved being able to hold her. She lives in Wyoming, but I volunteered to babysit so I just may be able to see her more often. And did I mention she has dark blue eyes, tiny toes and soft, soft baby skin? Absolutely precious!
Another new thing this week: I rode a bike. It's been about ten years since I've truly been on a bike ride, but I did it! I used to ride with my brother and sister all the time when we went camping. I'd love exploring the campground on a bike. You could go so fast down hills and ride almost anywhere faster than you could run. We'd go on trails that were way to dangerous for us, but if there was a trail or a lake to get to we'd do it. Sometimes my sister and I would ride on the same bike. One of us would stand up and pedal while the other would sit on the seat and swing their legs to create momentum. I had seen other people doing it, and therefore I must be able to do it so I grabbed my younger sister and told her to get on. After a couple of tries, we mastered it and were able to ride anywhere just as fast as before. I'm not sure what the advantage of one bike was...but we could do it! This week's bike ride was not through a quiet campground on dirt trails around a lake. This ride was through the streets of Denver to a park where an outdoor movie was showing-The Goonies! While most people that bike in Denver ride on the streets of the city, I had never done such a thing because in Dallas that is risky. Thankfully I was riding with my friend, an everyday cyclist who knew the area and traffic, but it was still a thrill. I tend to get quiet when I'm anxious about something. So most of the ride I was quietly but tightly gripping the handlebars. The 1.2 mile ride was very enjoyable, and I was trying to take in the neighborhood with all the older houses without getting hit by a car or anther biker, or clipped by someone opening their car door. It was just after 8:00 and the heat of the day had relented. There was even a cool breeze through the park as we were leaving. I was a little proud of myself I did not crash my first go at biking in the city.
Perhaps my favorite new thing this week was the used book store I discovered, West Side Books. The owner told be it had been there 10 years, and it definitely looks like it. The shelves are tall and literally stocked floor to ceiling with books. Handwritten signs direct shoppers to the different sections and the small displays marked the popular or 'new' items. There are sections for autographed books, first editions, local authors, and screenplays. They sell postcards, posters, and encyclopedias. My appreciation for authors, writers, literature and their readers grew a bit more when I found this shop.
The landscape I live in is spectacular. I am blessed to live in such green and vibrant state. Here's something I found from the shop:
"O Maker of sweet poets, dear delight
Of this fair world, and all its gentle livers;
Spangler of clouds, halo of crystal rivers,
Mingler with leaves, and dew and tumbling streams,
Closer of lovely eyes to lovely dreams,
Lover of loneliness, and wandering,
Of upcast eye, and tender pondering!
Thee must I praise above all other glories
That smile us on to tell delightful stories.
For what what made the sage or poet write
But the fair paradise of Nature's light?"
-excerpt from John Keats, "I stood tip-toe upon a little hill"
God Bless!
-s
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
week one yoga: booty to the mountains
New as been the theme of my life for the past couple weeks. Everyday I inevitably end up doing something new. Some days it is simply getting lost and ending up in a new part of town. As long as I can figure out north from south, I'm okay. Usually I get to have a conversation with a delightful stranger. Most the time it is nonchalant and harmless as I explain my new arrival to the city and inquire about something I have yet to find (a used bookstore), but occasionally I have to be wary about broadcasting my status, for instance announcing my recent move to the entire line at the Post Office. I have found that speaking with strangers does help me feel a little more connected to the town, or in other words: I have a voice to be recognized* in this town- and hello! Denver, you better recognize!
To fill some of my time between work and church and weekends with friends in the mountains, I have decided to seek out a yoga studio. My TNT coach recommended that I add yoga to my running training. I have always enjoyed yoga! Not a regular yogi but still a BIG fan, I have decided to approach this in the most economical matter possible (read= FREE). Using my trusty EcoMetro coupon book, I have narrowed down all the yoga studios in the area that offer a week long pass. The closest one is located in Golden which is about 15 minutes from my apartment. Let me tell you about the town of Golden. It is one sweet town. From Denver, you just drive straight toward the mountains. The Colorado School of Mines is a prestigious engineering university that is in Golden. As you drive along the highway with the mountains to the west, a giant "M" rests on the mountain, representing the Mines. I find it simply lovely that the town is nestled next to such a peaceful range. I could never tire of watching the sun set over mountains. On the clear evenings, they glow a soft, brilliant iris-blue. A drive up to Lookout Mountain, one of the mountains over Golden, during sunset (or sunrise) would be magnificent.
So here is where my search for yoga has landed me. By nature, I am uncomfortable when I am late, and yoga class is one place I did not want to arrive late. After circling a couple blocks, I give up at the brink of sweating and call the studio. I am trying to use the mountains as a reference point since I know for sure which direction is west (mountains are in the west...mountains are in the west..), but the lady on the phone isn't as compass-minded. Nevertheless, I find the entrance in a back alley close to a public parking lot. I make my way up the stairs to the second floor of the building. The studio is located in a strip center and there are many tenants in the one complex. As I come to the top of the stairs and open the door, I enter a hallway with more doors. Glancing in the first one, I see a stage and auditorium where an usher is escorting incoming theater members. Anxious to find the studio, I step toward the door but quickly sidestep left down the hallway. Rounding the corner, I find another door with the studio's name. I've made it. Inside I find a sweet, young instructor eager to introduce me to all the classes available. Just three minutes before class, I enter the small studio. Silence is observed in the studio. It's full class. But there is one place for one more mat. Thankfully it's in the second row. And between two men. Nice. The one to my left is probably a model or at least an athlete-of-year somewhere. Perfect. Did I mention our mats are about 15 inches apart? Yep, nice and comfy.
Enter instructor. "Hello everyone, I'm just going to adjust the temperature to 92 degrees for this class so it is more comfortable." Excellent. I've been in a hot yoga before and my last memory of it involved buckets of sweat coming from every crevice and non-crevice of my body. This studio is long with mirrors along the front and along one of the short sides. The opposite short side has two large windows. From here the mountains can peer through as if to monitor our practice. The focus of this class is alignment and each posture is focused on maintaining the original balance in our shoulders, spine and hips. Our instructor encourages us to keep our shoulders back and to push our booty to the mountains. Ahhh, yoga not found in Texas. The class is challenging but enjoyable. I am able to safely follow the instructor, and though flexibility is significantly lacking in my practice, I leave satisfied and tired.
After class, I head toward the stairs and almost bump into a small, mustached Johnny Cash. (Just an actor about to enter the playhouse, almost forgot about that.) Downstairs I meet Chuck, one of the newcomers to the yoga class. Sitting on his motorcycle, he is ready for a conversation. Tired, definitely sweaty, and not exactly ready for a convo-with-a-stranger, I quickly nod and continue to walk. Too late. The questions start coming and I can't help but be friendly. He's nice and innocently talkative. Somehow the conversation turns to me and why I am in yoga class. I explain honestly how I am adding it to my running routine, which in turn prompts an observant comment from Chuck, "O yes, I see that you do have thick thighs."
Maybe yoga is supposed to be about myself as a lot of it teaches, but for me it is never about myself. I push and challenge myself because I can. I strive to lead a healthy life and be aware of the way I treat my body. But at the end of the day it is not my own but created for the glory of Christ. I seek to honor Him in everything I do (thick thighs or not). This week I also discovered a new kind of yoga. Holy Yoga is taught by a woman at my church. Last night I attended it for the first time with a friend. The class involves some of the traditional yoga moves along with worship music. The instructor read from the Bible at the beginning and the end. It felt like worship instead of just a workout. I also enjoyed doing it with a room full of people I knew loved Christ. It was more powerful to be a part of the church community. I'll definitely be returning.
That's all I've got for now on my yoga search. We'll see what the next coupon offers.
love,
-s
*Recognized maybe. I constantly duck by the lady camping out in front of the library collecting signatures for something political. Ugh...don't talk to me.
To fill some of my time between work and church and weekends with friends in the mountains, I have decided to seek out a yoga studio. My TNT coach recommended that I add yoga to my running training. I have always enjoyed yoga! Not a regular yogi but still a BIG fan, I have decided to approach this in the most economical matter possible (read= FREE). Using my trusty EcoMetro coupon book, I have narrowed down all the yoga studios in the area that offer a week long pass. The closest one is located in Golden which is about 15 minutes from my apartment. Let me tell you about the town of Golden. It is one sweet town. From Denver, you just drive straight toward the mountains. The Colorado School of Mines is a prestigious engineering university that is in Golden. As you drive along the highway with the mountains to the west, a giant "M" rests on the mountain, representing the Mines. I find it simply lovely that the town is nestled next to such a peaceful range. I could never tire of watching the sun set over mountains. On the clear evenings, they glow a soft, brilliant iris-blue. A drive up to Lookout Mountain, one of the mountains over Golden, during sunset (or sunrise) would be magnificent.
So here is where my search for yoga has landed me. By nature, I am uncomfortable when I am late, and yoga class is one place I did not want to arrive late. After circling a couple blocks, I give up at the brink of sweating and call the studio. I am trying to use the mountains as a reference point since I know for sure which direction is west (mountains are in the west...mountains are in the west..), but the lady on the phone isn't as compass-minded. Nevertheless, I find the entrance in a back alley close to a public parking lot. I make my way up the stairs to the second floor of the building. The studio is located in a strip center and there are many tenants in the one complex. As I come to the top of the stairs and open the door, I enter a hallway with more doors. Glancing in the first one, I see a stage and auditorium where an usher is escorting incoming theater members. Anxious to find the studio, I step toward the door but quickly sidestep left down the hallway. Rounding the corner, I find another door with the studio's name. I've made it. Inside I find a sweet, young instructor eager to introduce me to all the classes available. Just three minutes before class, I enter the small studio. Silence is observed in the studio. It's full class. But there is one place for one more mat. Thankfully it's in the second row. And between two men. Nice. The one to my left is probably a model or at least an athlete-of-year somewhere. Perfect. Did I mention our mats are about 15 inches apart? Yep, nice and comfy.
Enter instructor. "Hello everyone, I'm just going to adjust the temperature to 92 degrees for this class so it is more comfortable." Excellent. I've been in a hot yoga before and my last memory of it involved buckets of sweat coming from every crevice and non-crevice of my body. This studio is long with mirrors along the front and along one of the short sides. The opposite short side has two large windows. From here the mountains can peer through as if to monitor our practice. The focus of this class is alignment and each posture is focused on maintaining the original balance in our shoulders, spine and hips. Our instructor encourages us to keep our shoulders back and to push our booty to the mountains. Ahhh, yoga not found in Texas. The class is challenging but enjoyable. I am able to safely follow the instructor, and though flexibility is significantly lacking in my practice, I leave satisfied and tired.
After class, I head toward the stairs and almost bump into a small, mustached Johnny Cash. (Just an actor about to enter the playhouse, almost forgot about that.) Downstairs I meet Chuck, one of the newcomers to the yoga class. Sitting on his motorcycle, he is ready for a conversation. Tired, definitely sweaty, and not exactly ready for a convo-with-a-stranger, I quickly nod and continue to walk. Too late. The questions start coming and I can't help but be friendly. He's nice and innocently talkative. Somehow the conversation turns to me and why I am in yoga class. I explain honestly how I am adding it to my running routine, which in turn prompts an observant comment from Chuck, "O yes, I see that you do have thick thighs."
Maybe yoga is supposed to be about myself as a lot of it teaches, but for me it is never about myself. I push and challenge myself because I can. I strive to lead a healthy life and be aware of the way I treat my body. But at the end of the day it is not my own but created for the glory of Christ. I seek to honor Him in everything I do (thick thighs or not). This week I also discovered a new kind of yoga. Holy Yoga is taught by a woman at my church. Last night I attended it for the first time with a friend. The class involves some of the traditional yoga moves along with worship music. The instructor read from the Bible at the beginning and the end. It felt like worship instead of just a workout. I also enjoyed doing it with a room full of people I knew loved Christ. It was more powerful to be a part of the church community. I'll definitely be returning.
That's all I've got for now on my yoga search. We'll see what the next coupon offers.
love,
-s
*Recognized maybe. I constantly duck by the lady camping out in front of the library collecting signatures for something political. Ugh...don't talk to me.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
and to the mountains i go!
Every trip took more than sixteen hours. It was never about the drive time though, especially has a young girl. At that age it was not in my mind to question the way, route or time it took to get to Colorado. All I knew was that we had a map, a station wagon, sometimes a dog, and plenty of road. All three of us kids rode together in the middle seat because that's where we all fit and the back seat faced backwards which would make us car sick, or that was the assumption. We brought things to entertain us along the way. I had my Nancy Drew books. Julie slept. Garrett chewed sunflower seeds with Dad. Mom checked the map. At each gas station, we choose a snack and a drink. Water, the nicely labeled kind, was my pick. I never had a thing for soda. Occasionally in the mornings I would get chocolate milk. Mom never bought chocolate milk at home, but on car trips we could choose what we wanted.
The drive to Colorado was a long trek. We'd usually go through New Mexico, but occasionally we would head north through Oklahoma and Kansas. Either way, once we entered Colorado the air changed. You could actually smell the trees outside. It was as if once we explored the northern climate and found the dry air that so many more smells appeared. Traveling northward was an adventure. It was a far away place that I was privileged to vacation to every summer. Texas was always home, after all it was where we left the dogs when we left for vacation. Denver was always the last stop before the mountains. From there we would drive northwest through the canyon to Estes Park. Dad would open the windows. He would drive slower and brake more, plus there were lots of turns. Julie would get car sick, but I loved the drive. I would lean my head against the partially open window and gaze up at the steep rock walls that surrounded the road we drove on. Mom would play Amy Grant. No more maps, we were close. After coming over the last ridge, the city lights of Estes were visible from the road. I remember arriving at night most of the time after the sun had gone down. Four more turns and we were on the road that led up to my grandparents house.
The cabin was built on the mountainside among the trees. A cabin is too simple a description for my grandparents house. It is huge and has it's own driveway from the road. As a child, my grandparents house was a resort. A wrap around deck with hot tub. Two stories tall and a loft over the living room. Two fireplaces. Large windows throughout the house with no curtains to block heat or sunlight, not that either are bothersome when your residence is in the mountains. Standing in the kitchen, one can see the city from the sky and the mountain ranges that surround it. Long's Peak in the far distance serves as the masterpiece of the whole house. The house was positioned to frame the view of the great Fourteener. For me, each summer day in Estes had a mood that was dictated by the great mountain. Some days it would be bright and clear. The snow left on the peak showed the strength of the previous year's winter. There's always snow, but it varied slightly every once in a while. Some days the clouds would cling to the top and you could not see the peak. When the clouds are thick, they sink down to the tree line and the city is not visible. You can stand out on the deck and be in clouds. Once I saw a rainbow that was below me just down the hillside.
Colorado was once a distant destination reserved for the summertime. As a child, I loved every memory I made with cousins, aunts and uncles and my Mor Mor and Gramps in the mountains. Now my adventures are different. I've traveled and seen more of the world and grown up a little. The mountains found a place in my heart and now I'm grateful that I've found my way back. At 24, I call it home. Don't let my maturity fool you though, I'm still up for exploring.
The drive to Colorado was a long trek. We'd usually go through New Mexico, but occasionally we would head north through Oklahoma and Kansas. Either way, once we entered Colorado the air changed. You could actually smell the trees outside. It was as if once we explored the northern climate and found the dry air that so many more smells appeared. Traveling northward was an adventure. It was a far away place that I was privileged to vacation to every summer. Texas was always home, after all it was where we left the dogs when we left for vacation. Denver was always the last stop before the mountains. From there we would drive northwest through the canyon to Estes Park. Dad would open the windows. He would drive slower and brake more, plus there were lots of turns. Julie would get car sick, but I loved the drive. I would lean my head against the partially open window and gaze up at the steep rock walls that surrounded the road we drove on. Mom would play Amy Grant. No more maps, we were close. After coming over the last ridge, the city lights of Estes were visible from the road. I remember arriving at night most of the time after the sun had gone down. Four more turns and we were on the road that led up to my grandparents house.
The cabin was built on the mountainside among the trees. A cabin is too simple a description for my grandparents house. It is huge and has it's own driveway from the road. As a child, my grandparents house was a resort. A wrap around deck with hot tub. Two stories tall and a loft over the living room. Two fireplaces. Large windows throughout the house with no curtains to block heat or sunlight, not that either are bothersome when your residence is in the mountains. Standing in the kitchen, one can see the city from the sky and the mountain ranges that surround it. Long's Peak in the far distance serves as the masterpiece of the whole house. The house was positioned to frame the view of the great Fourteener. For me, each summer day in Estes had a mood that was dictated by the great mountain. Some days it would be bright and clear. The snow left on the peak showed the strength of the previous year's winter. There's always snow, but it varied slightly every once in a while. Some days the clouds would cling to the top and you could not see the peak. When the clouds are thick, they sink down to the tree line and the city is not visible. You can stand out on the deck and be in clouds. Once I saw a rainbow that was below me just down the hillside.
Colorado was once a distant destination reserved for the summertime. As a child, I loved every memory I made with cousins, aunts and uncles and my Mor Mor and Gramps in the mountains. Now my adventures are different. I've traveled and seen more of the world and grown up a little. The mountains found a place in my heart and now I'm grateful that I've found my way back. At 24, I call it home. Don't let my maturity fool you though, I'm still up for exploring.
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