tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69084089424313589942024-03-14T10:51:45.231-04:00The 'Davar'I LAUGH I CARE I WRITENathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.comBlogger285125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-33404559421351369252013-01-19T21:18:00.000-05:002013-01-19T21:22:14.724-05:00Who Am I?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGZtbFXTSR-_J9x0YpkDQXiRpUshim8GaBbl0woiIUVlB7c8GkXvCqVLYHM43xdynkCqJ0tTahdI11eWNSBCoj7ZjOn2qOn2FXLm2HI4nD6PO7q8Z3K7Pgp1SEiGShyphenhyphen1wxhx7w6Zu5TJU/s1600/cut3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGZtbFXTSR-_J9x0YpkDQXiRpUshim8GaBbl0woiIUVlB7c8GkXvCqVLYHM43xdynkCqJ0tTahdI11eWNSBCoj7ZjOn2qOn2FXLm2HI4nD6PO7q8Z3K7Pgp1SEiGShyphenhyphen1wxhx7w6Zu5TJU/s320/cut3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Allow me to share a little of my inner-self with you: I would love to go through boot camp.<br />
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Call it a boyish desire for guns, sweat and tears, but there's something about the physical and mental struggles that our armed forces members go through that I would like to experience.<br />
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The Discovery Channel has put together a series called Surviving the Cut. If you have Netflix, look it up. It's pretty interesting to watch. Each 40-45 minute episode covers the training or interview process for a different kind of specially trained troop in the various branches of our military.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioY3rthLJhJQPDYJb5bifxRv-OkNvNEzC9fzck00GxyutA_IMTrvvCnW6t4zYHZETWTZEl8VX8CyT3ZGvVuPqF2_nuDWW6Zk2F8ojCvJjfKTDV6Vz6swxy7pjaLyQjAHkDxM8mRF8FVT2_/s1600/cut2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioY3rthLJhJQPDYJb5bifxRv-OkNvNEzC9fzck00GxyutA_IMTrvvCnW6t4zYHZETWTZEl8VX8CyT3ZGvVuPqF2_nuDWW6Zk2F8ojCvJjfKTDV6Vz6swxy7pjaLyQjAHkDxM8mRF8FVT2_/s1600/cut2.jpg" /></a>So far I've watched episodes on Army Rangers, Air Force Para-rescue, Marine Recon, Special Forces Diver, Marine and Army Sniper, and Special Warfare Combatant-Craft Crewman. I also watched Two Weeks In Hell, a separate documentary on Green Baret training. Surprisingly, there's no episode on the popular Navy Seal. Each school or program has one thing in common. They. Kick. Your. Ass.<br />
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You get to watch soldier after soldier vomit from exhaustion, collapse trying to simply walk down the street. Thousands of push-ups. Leg-lifts. Running. Carrying. Log drills. More running. Snot, blood, sweat and, yes, lots of tears come out during so many of these trainings. And I find that I'm captivated it.<br />
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It's not that they assign a lot of PT (physical training). It's that they assign more than anyone could possibly do. Each of the programs seems to involve an element of bringing a man to the point of physical fatigue to then see what he does. All of the candidates interviewed state that its a battle of the mind - mental toughness (along with a dose of physical toughness I'm sure, too). The armed forces are looking for individuals who, when they've reached their breaking point, will keep pushing anyway or break trying.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_rMwQ28Kbvl0TdLoFEBY-T1rErO0jePf1H9gtxgOhNDp-4lcnO1yIzcKjxdLNF8ICXLnzzVjQGdrW-mys_NxWvJnEPhvHIGCuOmhehMjg9LmURQVmBg_NXj1dTcD3Y1LcmNzuP__fuiO1/s1600/cut1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_rMwQ28Kbvl0TdLoFEBY-T1rErO0jePf1H9gtxgOhNDp-4lcnO1yIzcKjxdLNF8ICXLnzzVjQGdrW-mys_NxWvJnEPhvHIGCuOmhehMjg9LmURQVmBg_NXj1dTcD3Y1LcmNzuP__fuiO1/s1600/cut1.jpg" /></a></div>
And many do. Dozens of candidates are discharged from the tryouts because they've pushed their bodies too much and medics won't allow them to continue. I'll take a moment to say that the sniper schools were very clearly the least demanding physically and there was far less emphasis on PT and the will to go on. However, sniper school presents it's own challenges and still had a high attrition rate.<br />
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To me, the worst looking one to survive was probably Marine Recon. In addition to spending lots of time operating on no sleep and no energy, they finished their training with what's called the Zombie March. In a staged exercise to rescue several injured soldiers and carry them miles away to safety, the instructors started throwing cans of tear gas. Can after can. For an hour.<br />
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The gas made candidates vomit, tear up, ooze snot and saliva from everywhere, and made them feel as if their lungs were on fire. But, apparently, tear gas doesn't kill you. Technically, you can breathe through it, suck it up, and keep going. And that's what the candidates for Marine Recon had to do. They marched and heaved for an hour, over several miles, through dozens of tear gas clouds. All the while they carried 200lb dummies, extra gear, and their own 70lb packs. After the hour of tear gas, they still marched and carried another two hours. At the end, they all looked like zombies, hence the name.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmzISnT1TAKjPyCYAvWGzJ6SjX67vQi9cuU2x3_VfPyXiQzUr9x-iP0AXyqTBrAXisvKwcS7AbWThAd3bvnvOGf75IkDnYHC62bsLVKHKTbEcz1LXB-vfLSkyDyweKOU0pP8g0_X013oyN/s1600/cut4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmzISnT1TAKjPyCYAvWGzJ6SjX67vQi9cuU2x3_VfPyXiQzUr9x-iP0AXyqTBrAXisvKwcS7AbWThAd3bvnvOGf75IkDnYHC62bsLVKHKTbEcz1LXB-vfLSkyDyweKOU0pP8g0_X013oyN/s200/cut4.jpg" width="200" /></a>The most elite of the specialized schools seemed, to me, to be the Special Forces Combat Diver. The guys enrolled in this school had already passed one of the other special forces schools (e.g. Marine Recon, Green Baret, Army Rangers, Navy Seals). So they had already proven they were bad-ass. But underwater is a very dangerous environment to operate tactically.<br />
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The combat diver school pushed candidates to the point of panic, and then watched how they responded. There were specific drills, done in the water, to test whether a candidate could continue thinking clearly, even when his body and lungs began physical panic. This was very interesting to me as I spent lots of my childhood swimming in lakes and pools and I'm familiar with at least the first moments of panic due to lack of air. Not fun. These guys were being asked to continue functioning when panic set it. Yikes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKVREA4zcxMxhTfe0lGvmlTvNKebmFnNYvxz5aS0MRyX9aI3Ocx1dvahCIg08zZCtLnlTTqDuaIe1s8PtfeFWgj8UrvN-AS38OayNhPmDeMBOKVQvL2RP_a2tQt09s3rPFucK7WK_9TEU-/s1600/cut5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKVREA4zcxMxhTfe0lGvmlTvNKebmFnNYvxz5aS0MRyX9aI3Ocx1dvahCIg08zZCtLnlTTqDuaIe1s8PtfeFWgj8UrvN-AS38OayNhPmDeMBOKVQvL2RP_a2tQt09s3rPFucK7WK_9TEU-/s320/cut5.jpg" width="320" /></a>Also, the combat diver training involved much less of the traditional loud-in-you-face-drill-seargent-yelling than the other schools. Like I said, these guys had already proven themselves and didn't need that. It was much more laid back. "Let's learn how to become even more bad-ass." And you could tell.<br />
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The final mission of combat diver school included a mock military operation. They had to infiltrate undetected via the water. Then go on land, and take down their instructors with military grade paintball guns, recover a hostage, make it back to the water and boat away. Now, some of the other schools had mock missions simulating real combat. But the combat diver school included a bunch of bad ass veterans, most of whom had already seen real combat as a special force unit. And you could tell. They rocked the final mission! Even though the instructors (posing as bad guys) knew they were coming at some point, these candidates took them apart. They went in, took names, and got out of there.<br />
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But back to the reason for this post. Watching these guys find their breaking point and decide what to do next is inspiring. Some give up. Some press on. It makes me ask the question, What's my breaking point? There's a part of me that very much would like to find out. The problem is, it's a rough journey just to get to your breaking point, and then, I can't imagine the mental fortitude it takes to continue at something when your entire body says "no." But that's what I want to find out.<br />
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What kind of stuff am I made of? There's a way in which you can't know until you've pushed for something beyond what you thought possible. And that's why it's a fantasy of mine to go to boot camp.<br />
If only the military offered a way for civilians to experience boot camp, I'd be in the first line.<br />
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I'm not saying boot camp is as hard as these special military schools. I also don't think it would be easy either. But I'm sure basic boot camp creates plenty of moments that cause soldiers to question who they are. And in a way we don't really know who we are until we're pushed. And that's why I want to go do boot camp. To continue answering this life-long question, Who am I?Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-82665432643079676462012-12-18T17:26:00.000-05:002013-01-19T21:18:41.988-05:00On blogging and motivationGreetings faithful readers, <br />
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If you're reading this post, you're probably thinking, "well it's about time that yokle put up a new blog post!" In fact, I'm thinking that myself, about myself. To the three of you who <strike>followed</strike> follow my blog, I offer a mediocre apology for the lack of posts.<br />
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But here's the deal: the future of this blog is still up in the air, undecided, less than certain. The fact is, most of my goals or motivations for keeping up the blog have been accomplished. <br />
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When I started, my goals were to explore my ability as a "writer" and find my own voice in writing. These I have done. I have found my voice (as all writers must do), bland as it may be, and I have even surprised myself a few occasions concerning my literary ability. <br />
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Also, starting it up, I thought I had something in me the world needed to hear. If you go back to the early posts you'll notice a few of these types of "prescriptive" or opinionated or even sermon-like posts. But this desire in me - to boss people around - has subsided as I've learned more about myself. I have found, instead, I am a listener, not a bosser. <br />
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As I entered the world of chaplancy, the goals for my blog changed. It became a mechanism through which I processed all of the new experiences and things I was learning, seeing and coping with. Being thrust from a happy-go-lucky existence into the world of trauma hospitals comes with a certain amount of shock. Sharing stories and thoughts on my blog helped me to sort it all out. When I learned something new, there was an energy that would sit inside me, waiting to get out and onto the blog. There's a large way in which blogging on those topics was very healing. Let's call it "<em>blog therapy</em>." <br />
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During my second residency as a chaplain (in AK), much less of what I was seeing and experiencing was new. I had already processed my thoughts for the most part. Thus, there are far less posts on that residency, even though my experiences of death, trauma, tears and heartache were no fewer. <br />
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As we moved to AK, I posted a wonderful daily trip update of where we were and what we had seen. This was so much fun that I later had those posts turned into a little book for Heather and I to keep. That process however, set a precedent for trip and travel updates, which I had not intended. These posts I have kept up fairly well until this summer. There are so many pictures and stories and places we've seen, and family whose visited, it just became too large a job to keep up the trip updates. It has become more of a burden than anything. They're not something that I want, from within me, to share on my blog. Yes, I want family to be able to read them; however, they're not the sort of things that jumps out of my fingers, onto the keyboard on into the screen. There's no energy inside me that just can't wait to post a trip update. Trip updates are not theraputic blogging. <br />
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I also like reviewing books on the blog. I've written about my motivation on this topic in another post. I won't rehash it here. But, I will still blog on books (I hope) about which I feel I have something worthwhile to say. <br />
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What, then, shall I blog about? At this point I'm not sure. I guess you could say, I'm in search of new blogging motivation. I've thought often about blogging more on hospice and hospice issues that arise. But there's no great energy behind it. Secondly, I find I have much less time for blogging these days too. That needs changing. So, bear with me, as I search for new topics and motivations. Pray that I find a subject(s) for which the words can't wait to leave my fingers. <br />
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Yours (both of you), <br />
<br />
Nathan Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-90597533998352453932012-09-09T02:25:00.000-04:002012-09-09T17:03:00.242-04:00Grieving God's Way, by Margaret Brownley<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGhlTgoIeOlPkTwoMqEnSVxyoHhcm3-MMzmOKhtmA5fT5krnLjq7lNOrwi5KWq73sIkqvEu-ncAeexP1vFcwMxi85bguXXkVxTmtLP5dovdd_HkfOt1P9RBUQE7rKId5yBzHM_rJ8plpND/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGhlTgoIeOlPkTwoMqEnSVxyoHhcm3-MMzmOKhtmA5fT5krnLjq7lNOrwi5KWq73sIkqvEu-ncAeexP1vFcwMxi85bguXXkVxTmtLP5dovdd_HkfOt1P9RBUQE7rKId5yBzHM_rJ8plpND/s1600/images.jpg" /></a>In my work as a bereavement chaplain for a hospice, I am always on the look out for helpful books concerning grief, recovery, emotional schtuff and topics around death & dying. So of course, I took the opportunity to browse through this new book from Thomas Nelson Publishing.<br />
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I've never heard of Margaret Brownley, but her author bio touts her as an accomplished writer of fiction. Her eldest son died, and from that experience came this book, <i>Grieving God's Way</i>.<br />
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I will not claim to be an expert on grief, recovery theory, or what most people, or anyone, particularly need when grieving the loss of a loved one. However, my job puts me listening to grieving people daily, and I am learning from them daily. THis is the background from which I comment on Brownley's book.<br />
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The book is not a <i>through-reader</i>. Meaning, you might read a page a day. It is written to the griever, and each page contains a Bible verse, a short topical reflection around grief, a haiku and a "Healing Way" (practical suggestions for healing). There are 90 days total.<br />
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In the reflections, it quickly becomes clear that Brownley is a gifted writer. Her tone is approachable, smooth, inviting and at times winsome. I can see why this book approved for publishing and may be attractive to many a bereaved person.<br />
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That said, it is unlikely I will ever recommend this book to a grieving person. Allow me to be a little nit-picky, only because, as I've said, I listen to bereaved people daily and I feel a little protective of them.<br />
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The first thing I noticed was the title. <i>Grieving God's Way</i> is pretentious. I don't like it. Are we supposed to think that there is a Christian way to grieve and/or a non-Christian way? Can we sin by grieving the wrong way? Or is the title suggesting that there's one way to grieve, and it's God's way, and that this book explains that "way"? I'm just not sure. So, I would've gone with a different title. However, the book does not attempt to explain God's way of grieving (whatever that is). It simply offers 90 reflections, haiku's etc. about grief. So, the book has a bad title that it's not trying to live up to. Whatever.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQZwVqXSXMiiQ0emNt_LfW-C39uMWLb8KNtIKFuS_iytFe7FG8Ju_8FlKrb5z0mR4PVBxqzz4uupmJp0VPmy7UQd4LshxzuSEccvaBPlrbGbnoJvrBnp0Ssqj0_xdfWm7UMtRIVWiRv6E/s1600/images1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQZwVqXSXMiiQ0emNt_LfW-C39uMWLb8KNtIKFuS_iytFe7FG8Ju_8FlKrb5z0mR4PVBxqzz4uupmJp0VPmy7UQd4LshxzuSEccvaBPlrbGbnoJvrBnp0Ssqj0_xdfWm7UMtRIVWiRv6E/s200/images1.jpg" width="132" /></a>Call me a stickler, but she got Kubler-Ross wrong. A few decades ago Elizabeth Kubler-Ross wrote a ground breaking book called <i>On Death and Dying</i>. She interviewed dying people and published her findings. One of the things she talked about was "the stages of grief": denial/isolation, anger, depression, bargaining and acceptance. Margaret Brownley, unfortunately talks about them in terms of what folks go through after losing a loved one (p17). But Kubler-Ross' stages of grief pertain to what dying people experience. There are plenty of similarities between these two groups of people; however, there are plenty of differences in their grief processes as well. Splitting hairs? Maybe. But I'd hope that someone authoring a self-help book on grief would appropriately handle the famed "stages of grief."<br />
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The book is a little to prescriptive for my liking. My approach when doing grief counseling is to take the posture of a companion to the griever. Walking side-by-side with one who is broken by loss, doing my best to offer the support of a friend while letting the griever find his/her own way. Many of the pages containing "Healing Ways" were wise and useful. However, there were also those places where Brownley seemed a little too pushy in the <i>should</i> department. Everyone's grief and processing of it is unique. I am wary of those offering any sort of <i>should</i> to someone else who is grieving.<br />
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I've spent considerable space discussing negatives of this book. Overall, I think there is a Christian population that will be helped by this book very much. But in my profession there are other better books that I will turn to before <i>Grieving God's Way. </i>Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-39862081204856107512012-09-09T01:21:00.001-04:002012-09-09T01:21:25.782-04:00Tzana's visit: 2012<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My mother-in-law, Tzena (pronounced Zay-nah), came to visit us for a week at the end of June till just after July 4th. And with her visit, our adventurous exploring of Alaska continued. </div>
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The beginning of our venture took us to Whittier, AK. To get there, you have to drive through a 2 mile tunnel. The tunnel was built for a train, and so its very thin - only one direction of driving at a time (the direction changes every 1/2 hour), and we were driving over train tracks.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whittier tunnel entrance, straight into a mountain</td></tr>
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There's not a whole lot to do in Whittier, so we walked just outside of town to look at the river and waterfalls.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather and her Momma by the river</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes it was June, and yes that's snow behind them!</td></tr>
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Whittier is one of those quirky little towns you hear about. One of the "quirks" is this building. This is the dormitory, where everyone (yes, everyone) in Whittier lives.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Makes life easy for the postman</td></tr>
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Alas, we only briefly passed through Whittier, because soon after touring the small town, we drove Jayne onto a ferry. Our plan: take the Alaska Marine Highway (a.k.a. big boat that holds cars and stuff) over to Valdez (another quirky town) and drive back to Anchorage.<br />
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The boat ride was absolutely beautiful. Completely surrounded by snow-speckled mountains, there wasn't a dull view in sight for the entire 6+ hour boat ride.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front of the boat, with gorgeous-ness in sight</td></tr>
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This is one of two glaciers we passed on the trip. Sorry, but I've forgotten their names.<br />
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The second glacier we passed was s tide-water glacier (meaning it ends in the ocean) and it left lots of floating ice chunks in the water.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sea Otters sun bathing on an ice chunk</td></tr>
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The captain slowed the boat way down to navigate the clogged up ice-filled waters. But there's no avoiding it. We were constantly crunching into the ice chunks. He was just avoiding the really big ones. And there were plenty out there as big as a house. (You can see the tide-water glacier in the back ground in the picture below.) (Click to enlarge)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what I mean by "lots of ice chunks"</td></tr>
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We passed this buoy, which had three stellar sea lions hanging out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-7KjlZ_O1rDy5A4PaHJfO3lOyvaeE-UwYvF-YvbmuBcaM7u-BTnP_UNt30XiV5l038xqT2t3NTWzPkNJd8OKTUO-bbkFoEGFYpyWXPNxcjBqJZEaBd16LEZFehY8pJSHm7QVTgKeIsnD/s1600/DSCN1651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-7KjlZ_O1rDy5A4PaHJfO3lOyvaeE-UwYvF-YvbmuBcaM7u-BTnP_UNt30XiV5l038xqT2t3NTWzPkNJd8OKTUO-bbkFoEGFYpyWXPNxcjBqJZEaBd16LEZFehY8pJSHm7QVTgKeIsnD/s320/DSCN1651.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cuties</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awesome mountains with waterfalls were everywhere</td></tr>
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Finally, we docked in Valdeze, AK, home the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exxon_Valdez_oil_spill">second largest oil spill in history</a>.<br />
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We found this cool little "park" called Dock Point Park. It was more like a really high knoll on the side of town, you had to hike up and then walk around in the woods following a trail.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can never get too many hugs</td></tr>
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We also found the base of a huge waterfall that you could see from anywhere in town. It made its way a few thousand feet down a mountain that bowled in the town.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Momma and daughter, enjoying the falls!</td></tr>
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Our friend, and Heather's former pharmacy tech, Coleen, was doing an internship in Valdez at the oil terminal. When she had to go out on a boat with her boss for something work related, her boss was like, "Well, we're out here, why don't we put out the shrimp pots?" Later they pulled up a bunch of fresh caught shrimp, of which Coleen generously gave us a bag.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't mind that Coleen is flipping YOU the bird!</td></tr>
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The next morning, we walked out to the car, ready to start our journey back toward Anchorage, and right across the street (only about 50 feet away) we saw this black bear. And he had strewn someone's trash all over the road.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I gotta admit, this one made me laugh</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Bazinga! Score! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then he made off with it like he stole something.....which I guess he did</td></tr>
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Here's the final moments of him making off with his treasure.<br />
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Before leaving town, we drove out to the oil terminal, where all of our Alaskan oil ends up and gets processed. It was kind of neat to see, but we couldn't go past this spot.<br />
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At one of the pull-offs we spotted this guy in a tree only 10 feet above our heads.<br />
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At the next pull off, we spotted this little inquisitive harbor seal looking back at us.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb25ZVda3Bb8EazmGB3By83l4jLFrwJOKOT6Nx-e0o48nmb62U16IMGS1ASHoXm12Xaxa313gPZkpbGEZM_oyLcJfuDIvJaP21Stdj3PMB_y9wAZoa9GQnDOyWBnB8USOAZwMzgWEs7nk-/s1600/DSCN1795.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb25ZVda3Bb8EazmGB3By83l4jLFrwJOKOT6Nx-e0o48nmb62U16IMGS1ASHoXm12Xaxa313gPZkpbGEZM_oyLcJfuDIvJaP21Stdj3PMB_y9wAZoa9GQnDOyWBnB8USOAZwMzgWEs7nk-/s320/DSCN1795.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks like little puppy eyes</td></tr>
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Moments later, a steller sea lion popped up and started yawning and growling. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_v7Drr9cYUIZAlhZWz3QZu6IGJBQPlLE06CtiTfrdpnYGtHBaQiePX1427vpI59iIJMKa7XPu2QHiz08dwWN-V_PFPpnA3nCWvoRmfafFm3J94OT3lfLL6I5fOjX0YCafmjBMrwhJa3H-/s1600/DSCN1813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_v7Drr9cYUIZAlhZWz3QZu6IGJBQPlLE06CtiTfrdpnYGtHBaQiePX1427vpI59iIJMKa7XPu2QHiz08dwWN-V_PFPpnA3nCWvoRmfafFm3J94OT3lfLL6I5fOjX0YCafmjBMrwhJa3H-/s320/DSCN1813.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Everyone told us that just outside of Valdez there are some beautiful waterfalls. But, we never found them. We only found these lame ones.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2CqxwePxOrOFR8HwGzJzoG6yCyiJRZac8sgd0rQlf42UBZtBr3nuYJfK3zRw2iwsIScWt11wnysSkF7nQWKS83bFxgV7drSMIW2SmPXG-EoO_CZYoA1Zlju-1sqzZLUGVSumPZFOspGMm/s1600/DSCN1829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2CqxwePxOrOFR8HwGzJzoG6yCyiJRZac8sgd0rQlf42UBZtBr3nuYJfK3zRw2iwsIScWt11wnysSkF7nQWKS83bFxgV7drSMIW2SmPXG-EoO_CZYoA1Zlju-1sqzZLUGVSumPZFOspGMm/s320/DSCN1829.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfE0WTSL7gT5sXlvYTr-9skHMQiSGKkYXNzzLyy7vlxrKzHf6MJHW8d6cemFQBJW99utRwSG6ETBYAW-4zA_4KrCheOD2vmNXTfhtpKRhT4D4LTgFzoK4-p440A-mp4lUUBZr4Qz_-LmP/s1600/DSCN1840.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfE0WTSL7gT5sXlvYTr-9skHMQiSGKkYXNzzLyy7vlxrKzHf6MJHW8d6cemFQBJW99utRwSG6ETBYAW-4zA_4KrCheOD2vmNXTfhtpKRhT4D4LTgFzoK4-p440A-mp4lUUBZr4Qz_-LmP/s320/DSCN1840.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jayne like water fall</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRiWpBBVxKSdZwc_tWTAoU98lLelLKJVT2BSmY4VxYkhJfoq3TPWUw6Om_GMEf58ZGJmNVdaktIBuRh-AluNjWmTw0DzGJblY2fBxc_QaI9PRf_6TGUDOd_8FH0frs9HmV0rCIySBjwy6K/s1600/DSCN1850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRiWpBBVxKSdZwc_tWTAoU98lLelLKJVT2BSmY4VxYkhJfoq3TPWUw6Om_GMEf58ZGJmNVdaktIBuRh-AluNjWmTw0DzGJblY2fBxc_QaI9PRf_6TGUDOd_8FH0frs9HmV0rCIySBjwy6K/s320/DSCN1850.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Horse Tail Falls</td></tr>
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A few hours into our journey and we unexpectedly passed Worthington Glacier. This is an in-land glacier that you can walk right up to, which I did.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBCcNcyLuK33jerCJ58M-4SLYk6czsD4oVx4Dh8g9XHQeP8gP5EzTEaLaTLog8AAcC5xRPrA-WF67S-p2Wr4yZfV8VQoZT43mDdAO9H_N0VF6mz5pdLDqw8SHKl9KVGyyyvILT3lgWJTgW/s1600/DSCN1859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBCcNcyLuK33jerCJ58M-4SLYk6czsD4oVx4Dh8g9XHQeP8gP5EzTEaLaTLog8AAcC5xRPrA-WF67S-p2Wr4yZfV8VQoZT43mDdAO9H_N0VF6mz5pdLDqw8SHKl9KVGyyyvILT3lgWJTgW/s320/DSCN1859.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the pathway is completely covered in snow in early July</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhpeTieMEs_p6NMuAT8rVUNWAk5CIt_gb1ank0KwyzsNhicuTU84zzYiYf3qWrCZ4KH1zj8CWhlgWAn4lWAuAheS1_Bd3DwD_OX04ganx6bSctXE2So8zHbJ-vtkDG9gw5uVYOj8ehJCj/s1600/DSCN1867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhpeTieMEs_p6NMuAT8rVUNWAk5CIt_gb1ank0KwyzsNhicuTU84zzYiYf3qWrCZ4KH1zj8CWhlgWAn4lWAuAheS1_Bd3DwD_OX04ganx6bSctXE2So8zHbJ-vtkDG9gw5uVYOj8ehJCj/s320/DSCN1867.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Worthington Glacier<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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We came into Anchorage from the north, and that drive up through the valley is one of the most beautiful drives. It follows a carved out glacier valley that now is home to the Matanuska (pronounced matt-uh-noos-kuh) River. But along the way there are some breath taking sights. Here' sone of them. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiolEDeCPOARpYINhNmsSILxSRXEJGmrSeKchkOQkHgaHRMTPV-oidHRTuYh6W78p2_QlsGHoN7_AvNB7wF-omQNNps9oXQfD4wLD1XxVxaiLYsnQunetCwLXW3l1o06QzKebP_zedS-u3h/s1600/DSCN1914.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiolEDeCPOARpYINhNmsSILxSRXEJGmrSeKchkOQkHgaHRMTPV-oidHRTuYh6W78p2_QlsGHoN7_AvNB7wF-omQNNps9oXQfD4wLD1XxVxaiLYsnQunetCwLXW3l1o06QzKebP_zedS-u3h/s320/DSCN1914.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Behind us, in the picture below, you can barely make out the Matanuska Glacier (the little white strip that's even with my hair).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0hjT5Hm3LZaTWLZHGfy6pRewHOXpi5NdXvKblSryaF_AIYY6ORQJ4uwrzoG_2tqXLQ13kws3x05ntddu7awyRbcLxlDfWKo-qWLR7-QgZBihU161-157PnAqH5lmROZAt37g8bLhsM4Yl/s1600/DSCN1949.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0hjT5Hm3LZaTWLZHGfy6pRewHOXpi5NdXvKblSryaF_AIYY6ORQJ4uwrzoG_2tqXLQ13kws3x05ntddu7awyRbcLxlDfWKo-qWLR7-QgZBihU161-157PnAqH5lmROZAt37g8bLhsM4Yl/s320/DSCN1949.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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We were also celebrating Tzena's birthday during her visit. Below is the blanket we had woven with a picture on it from Tzena's last visit to Alaska. It's a piece of scenery from Kenai Lake, AK. The water was so crystal clear it made for a perfect reflection, and on the left hand side you can sort of make out the front portion of the train from which the picture was taken.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicgvCPPKWJiPUMrRpmTFXq7EkzYnTGkzFlxjJnKwdGUPhCK_gdxgHUwQilBPN3IOGNLJy_z_kx_S3BpC5exluJNTECFlUMgoVz38XCbzYUO-VtHdZ0ge-PsgpdIR9UbxXejpmCxb5vNY0l/s1600/DSCN1977.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicgvCPPKWJiPUMrRpmTFXq7EkzYnTGkzFlxjJnKwdGUPhCK_gdxgHUwQilBPN3IOGNLJy_z_kx_S3BpC5exluJNTECFlUMgoVz38XCbzYUO-VtHdZ0ge-PsgpdIR9UbxXejpmCxb5vNY0l/s320/DSCN1977.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She liked her blankee</td></tr>
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We then took her up the tram in Girdwood to take in the sights of the Turnagain Arm before eating at the restaurant on the mountain called Seven Glaciers, so named for the nearby ice formations. Can you guess how many there are?!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1XnYUxUmTv67MDbiKoDeabvzw-sip-Vm9RbV6X_rJsGviJ8QA7UCA3iQbUvCFIty-XsV2FbI3WBtYJ6cRgJj8NByqY6jE-MuuhbfVRTVu0Cc0qVUocu-oIxbtlXmN3FTMxACl7Ow6QOO/s1600/DSCN1989.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1XnYUxUmTv67MDbiKoDeabvzw-sip-Vm9RbV6X_rJsGviJ8QA7UCA3iQbUvCFIty-XsV2FbI3WBtYJ6cRgJj8NByqY6jE-MuuhbfVRTVu0Cc0qVUocu-oIxbtlXmN3FTMxACl7Ow6QOO/s320/DSCN1989.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At about 3,000 ft elevation, looking down at sea level</td></tr>
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And lastly, before she left, we took her up to Flat Top to walk with the puptons to take in the sights. This picture is very near the spot where my brother-out-law was the coldest he's ever been!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi99oaZD-qch6lGdVgNVPeHYCu-A3tAaqIEKC4EI3ljmG-BnWhp38NNow8nLitMRaebJIpk0C1pwyGmwDcwJfIuM7xvpc43irpIKPsYJFVLYa7AaMxsWNOn8Krf96J0GXR0TWLHadZfDgps/s1600/DSCN2008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi99oaZD-qch6lGdVgNVPeHYCu-A3tAaqIEKC4EI3ljmG-BnWhp38NNow8nLitMRaebJIpk0C1pwyGmwDcwJfIuM7xvpc43irpIKPsYJFVLYa7AaMxsWNOn8Krf96J0GXR0TWLHadZfDgps/s320/DSCN2008.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Momma T and her grand-dogs</td></tr>
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Tzena, as always we loved having you visit, and you can't come back too soon!</div>
Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-87147633009321600512012-09-01T16:51:00.001-04:002012-09-01T17:27:39.796-04:00Wrangell - St. Elias: America's Largest National ParkLast June Heather and I ventured to a non-touristy area of Alaska to go camping. We made the 9-hour drive from Anchorage to McCarthy, which is the center most town in the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHJogyf17AtNISESJW4_fkeVX6PESjNen00R_NiLBfYVFhr1LLSJt5tp2_pBI2E1OD3V3LBNGhDaxm3Bp5qgMrmu4RQgUVwesjNFxd5rY3rnmYGIYAsHJ2lVKSlSyBoIxc9oyO7irLXKz9/s1600/DSCN1239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHJogyf17AtNISESJW4_fkeVX6PESjNen00R_NiLBfYVFhr1LLSJt5tp2_pBI2E1OD3V3LBNGhDaxm3Bp5qgMrmu4RQgUVwesjNFxd5rY3rnmYGIYAsHJ2lVKSlSyBoIxc9oyO7irLXKz9/s320/DSCN1239.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view upon entering the park</td></tr>
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After receiving a tip from a person I met through work, we planned a four day trip to go explore this little-explored part of our state. But first, we had to get there. The entrance to the park is through a little town called Chitina ("chit-nuh"), which is about a 6 hour drive if you're eating up some good road. And Chitina is only 60 miles from McCarthy, our destination. HOWEVER, those last 60 miles took us tttthhhhhrrrrreeeeeee llllooooooooonnnnnngg hhhoooooouuuuuuurrrrrrsssssss..........<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6aOgwUKjaH7WP-ZQVqq97MvM4kz-c8FbSrQElqRBWh8ag2XpdfQ7tVfJZS1RANODSwx_c1WFvggx3AshYS7yJZYKSaxKhGWlhUbkR6l4ip4KGHuSt8z4rhGH8kpUjiM_U6NWur5gYXgn/s1600/DSCN1256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6aOgwUKjaH7WP-ZQVqq97MvM4kz-c8FbSrQElqRBWh8ag2XpdfQ7tVfJZS1RANODSwx_c1WFvggx3AshYS7yJZYKSaxKhGWlhUbkR6l4ip4KGHuSt8z4rhGH8kpUjiM_U6NWur5gYXgn/s320/DSCN1256.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">McCarthy Road and mountains all around!</td></tr>
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The McCarthy Road. Definition: worst road in the United States! It runs from Chitina, into the park to McCarthy. A dirt path filled with potholes that never end. Maybe it should be described as a path of potholes with a few flat spots between them. We began driving the McCarthy Road at 9pm. We arrived a little after midnight. It became clear to me why this is not a tourist hot spot.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9TAtQu6ytrT5-qzB8Htkj3Yx4wAkUOfVIrkRhj0zMgSnVE2SMmu9rqP7zmEjKI61i-LwmhSZF0Q3MuVm8NsqWL0n8haTRHIEMax2I7JqgUshy108RLaquUn70oZUfg_GIE83SAa3D2aJ/s1600/DSCN1265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9TAtQu6ytrT5-qzB8Htkj3Yx4wAkUOfVIrkRhj0zMgSnVE2SMmu9rqP7zmEjKI61i-LwmhSZF0Q3MuVm8NsqWL0n8haTRHIEMax2I7JqgUshy108RLaquUn70oZUfg_GIE83SAa3D2aJ/s320/DSCN1265.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This view was just there, minding its own business, so we decided to take it with us</td></tr>
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But, despite being a most frustrating and painfully slow road to travel, the scenery was sure beautiful. For me, it was more beautiful than Denali National Park (the popular one with that big mountain). Although, this park does contain Mount St. Elias, which is the 2nd tallest mountain in N. America!<br />
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We hit our campsite about 12:30am. We set up camp (without needing a lantern) and slept. The next morning we headed into McCarthy. You can't drive in McCarthy. You must walk. From our campground, it was about 1/2 mile into town, and you had to cross this foot bridge you see below. We brought our bikes to expedite our time and reduce the amount of walking.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevqNTE24gE8vEIzLdfknxam-LQjkt5-xWJ1guxnDTwmKDjXMLHG0UUSDe03LXZ2qRCtMb3B9Gq4ttSBT3ENoGpfteqqUfMJLjlX-VRBZpTx8WYhLETAHpask-SLxGyus4psQ2DndLbhKo/s1600/DSCN1279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevqNTE24gE8vEIzLdfknxam-LQjkt5-xWJ1guxnDTwmKDjXMLHG0UUSDe03LXZ2qRCtMb3B9Gq4ttSBT3ENoGpfteqqUfMJLjlX-VRBZpTx8WYhLETAHpask-SLxGyus4psQ2DndLbhKo/s320/DSCN1279.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> A little cool and drizzly that day on the foot bridge</td></tr>
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Behold the great city of McCarthy! We toured the town on our bikes and ventured to the general store to have some ice cream. As you can see, McCarthy is a little place. There's a few shops, and no gas station for the few cars that are over there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-m3EQ-xX02wZUXpHLgOC66sgZAAtWwoIm66NsJn7v0XfVNkNWuRA3M4oWLUQiTzjuxt5LvPoZIlQ9IBs4shoMPDESR2KN8NTlRPp21LMJK5RVIcc7BJx3PHlBu77LKC2l_toS3u1Ve7p/s1600/DSCN1290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-m3EQ-xX02wZUXpHLgOC66sgZAAtWwoIm66NsJn7v0XfVNkNWuRA3M4oWLUQiTzjuxt5LvPoZIlQ9IBs4shoMPDESR2KN8NTlRPp21LMJK5RVIcc7BJx3PHlBu77LKC2l_toS3u1Ve7p/s320/DSCN1290.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Main street</td></tr>
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One of the main reasons to visit this area is to go to the next "town," Kennicott. About 5 miles past McCarthy is this old historic mining town. It's up on the side of a mountain with some killer views of several glaciers and mountain ranges. There's a shuttle you can pay that will drive you up the road to Kennicott, but we had our bikes - no shuttle! A local recommended we bike the Old Wagon Trail instead of the road. It parallels the road but is in the woods and has come good scenery.<br />
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This....was a mistake. The first mile of the wagon "trail" was pleasant with a slight incline, dirt path and nice foliage. But after that, after we'd gone so far that turning back was out of the question, it became treacherous. The incline became a hill. The hill never ended. The dirt path became gravel. That gravel became bigger rocks that were loose and very difficult to bike over. Several times we were forced to dismount and walk the bikes over crops of small boulders. Did I mention it was uphill the whole way?! The foliage remained nice though.<br />
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It took us somewhere around an hour to do 5 miles. We sweated. And then, we sweat some more. Finally, finally, we reached our destination. The ground leveled out and the trees opened up to an incredible view.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKe0EVjT6_HR8SkIJrDWvKLanyKIF9hSq9OpcVcmyd4HaH8eIhRjGKPrEv_5_I1MtRO0R7u7I7UR_CqSOlmpzKUXwlcDwBhVZZTxSOlYDnjozBnR-utBU1e_53mFUp9toUc0o1FmktIQPI/s1600/DSCN1318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKe0EVjT6_HR8SkIJrDWvKLanyKIF9hSq9OpcVcmyd4HaH8eIhRjGKPrEv_5_I1MtRO0R7u7I7UR_CqSOlmpzKUXwlcDwBhVZZTxSOlYDnjozBnR-utBU1e_53mFUp9toUc0o1FmktIQPI/s320/DSCN1318.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cue incredible view behind us</td></tr>
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Kennicott overlooks a valley, several miles wide, into which at least two glaciers let out. Notice what appears to be mounds of dirt behind us. That's actually the Root Glacier and the Kennicott Glacier, which have come together, and the ice is covered with a layer of dirt called a moraine. The valley is crawling with crawling glacial ice.<br />
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After looking around the old mining town, having lunch and regaining some strength, we biked through and out of Kennicott to follow a trail to the Root Glacier. The path soon became un-bikeable, so we abandoned our bikes on the side of the path and continued on. The view remained "view-y" and we walked.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpVetOdCJbw29NDZtI9Ao2dfPqIptym3WGa0Jslk7ke0M5hhmYAZw1tigbI5Qyf2PGE9mBHfUchyZs9tzHnICUQfT1BJjCLUa8oQWynGpEEwYnO9BjVSXfb8xfhEZPd8DgT-_clwuKQEQg/s1600/DSCN1361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpVetOdCJbw29NDZtI9Ao2dfPqIptym3WGa0Jslk7ke0M5hhmYAZw1tigbI5Qyf2PGE9mBHfUchyZs9tzHnICUQfT1BJjCLUa8oQWynGpEEwYnO9BjVSXfb8xfhEZPd8DgT-_clwuKQEQg/s320/DSCN1361.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking in the sights, just after leaving bikes</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jumbo Falls, on the way to glacier access </td></tr>
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W eventually came to a place where the moraine was not covering the glacier, and followed the trail like Frodo and Sam through Mordor to our destination.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp8pjVlRtQUSEFzxQRl1J6cWK8mcryklGjXVbc-ewU3ykFmtvon5KBMF54p49Vn8BN6-Ll-RbxVcbW6GUEyV7sfnbPXCl_CU2fTWMJ0AQPP8VA7ypAebXoEhjLbRuoh8Jvgnk2heRZ9Rcz/s1600/DSCN1401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp8pjVlRtQUSEFzxQRl1J6cWK8mcryklGjXVbc-ewU3ykFmtvon5KBMF54p49Vn8BN6-Ll-RbxVcbW6GUEyV7sfnbPXCl_CU2fTWMJ0AQPP8VA7ypAebXoEhjLbRuoh8Jvgnk2heRZ9Rcz/s320/DSCN1401.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather, on the path to the glacier</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbLVVFmy1nG2kGyOvondMJiuV5laXTMUtsSg_WYv_rB6VWbSlRH91ZcSRW-yFrthBu-F5d9IJdfoatcGidJz0N9Q4Wtg5CrP_Zdglx-TPxmDGUvEPA5itWwjMUBwvQVIzuogVqlugQFwv/s1600/DSCN1426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbLVVFmy1nG2kGyOvondMJiuV5laXTMUtsSg_WYv_rB6VWbSlRH91ZcSRW-yFrthBu-F5d9IJdfoatcGidJz0N9Q4Wtg5CrP_Zdglx-TPxmDGUvEPA5itWwjMUBwvQVIzuogVqlugQFwv/s320/DSCN1426.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This trench shows the edge of the glacier against the mountain side</td></tr>
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We spent a few minutes walking around on a little piece of the glacier. The few times so far I've had the chance to walk on or up to a glacier I've always gotten a brooding or ominous sense. There's something about being next to an enormous glacier that dwarfs my sense of being. I get that slightly nervous or edgy feeling in my gut. The air is instantly cold. And nature becomes quiet. The feeling that I'm stepping on something that stretches for miles, is bigger than I can comprehend and is physically moving beneath my feet, makes me feel uneasy. There's a fearful respect of the glacier's power and force that alights in me. That's the best I know how to describe it.<br />
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After heading back, we picked up our bikes and made it back into Kennicott. By this time, it was late in the day, and were were getting very hungry and were short on snacks and water. We decide to take the road back to McCarthy, not the wagon trail. It's five miles of downhill coasting on our bikes. Though not exactly a pleasure cruise because we're constantly zig-zagging and weaving between potholes. Some you just had to go over because there's not other option. But we make it back to our campsite and start on dinner.<br />
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The pups of course, had a great time at our campsite, because we were next to an open field where we played lots of fetch!<br />
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(I should stop here, parenthetically(!) and say that it was on this trip that I've seen the most mosquitos. Most of the time, they were swarming. We were constantly swatting at them with hats and spraying repellant. They swarmed Dakota and Lola if they were outside the tent or Jayne. Sadly, their little bellies got eaten up by mosquito bites. There were dozens of little red bumps on their bellies, so we had to start leaving them in the tent even while we were just mulling about the campsite.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3hqh_rrzYvHz3rOOgd94HjksG_DorEg3RrZu3gNd4MX2gKGs8WddadDLRU8ijDM0ig3ndKYthAJHQ4IIV48O06hQrOLiwXYM9QU0fbTi1GLO3J8XMSpPpGr81Y7TyTKAiu0lCa0UA5IjD/s1600/DSCN1439.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3hqh_rrzYvHz3rOOgd94HjksG_DorEg3RrZu3gNd4MX2gKGs8WddadDLRU8ijDM0ig3ndKYthAJHQ4IIV48O06hQrOLiwXYM9QU0fbTi1GLO3J8XMSpPpGr81Y7TyTKAiu0lCa0UA5IjD/s320/DSCN1439.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can kind of get a sense of the view from our campsite</td></tr>
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On our second full day in the park we went on a flight-seeing tour. My friend had advised me that you can't truly see the Wrangell-St. Elias park without seeing it by air. And he was right. We were advised to hook up with Gary Green of Wrangell-Mountain Air, who's been flying these mountains for something like 40 years and is his own airplane mechanic.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkXJrS6OcBYfBbZboZhbjEwqy6NnOrUkjqayYm2lMwLcEIzJhyphenhyphenzRITyk9MWxbPxP6-ZISxhCc5sarmT5CyieF7MIib1NeTviDxbNfnK-9v3S2JDcQ7V64kdhFlZUCUICduyJKtnkWHLw5-/s1600/DSCN1448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkXJrS6OcBYfBbZboZhbjEwqy6NnOrUkjqayYm2lMwLcEIzJhyphenhyphenzRITyk9MWxbPxP6-ZISxhCc5sarmT5CyieF7MIib1NeTviDxbNfnK-9v3S2JDcQ7V64kdhFlZUCUICduyJKtnkWHLw5-/s320/DSCN1448.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Gary next to his Cessna 182 (I think)</td></tr>
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We flew for about 75 minutes and were amazed for 75 minutes. He flew straight toward the glaciers and ice formations. From the ground and from a distance, you can easily get a sense that the glaciers and mountains are huge and majestic and all that. But from the air, the effect is compounded.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHU13mpJdD5cPoPmb_aH4oHdmNluVl3LunDMiFMOYt8WUJgj2mL3rgXowvb7b8C_go44DxE-CkTlSJiOX2VI40O1tpXHrUb84Gh80XXt54A7aI_-4Hs78jhHliV3W9mhY-JN0PVrd7Qkj/s1600/DSCN1458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHU13mpJdD5cPoPmb_aH4oHdmNluVl3LunDMiFMOYt8WUJgj2mL3rgXowvb7b8C_go44DxE-CkTlSJiOX2VI40O1tpXHrUb84Gh80XXt54A7aI_-4Hs78jhHliV3W9mhY-JN0PVrd7Qkj/s320/DSCN1458.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kennicott form the air</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2bzg7qSRJbdfu-rIZDo79WPSXpvv_YitdSuXGbDQHNcZ-VTtysBN2K2_8WPM-C8lGzM8nIGRZFeMU0oKL4ZDxRGucyjAUgX4MAs3CvFQz7QjzpRT1_bfjfe1i7omjOLmJVAYIm3XcojU1/s1600/DSCN1469.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2bzg7qSRJbdfu-rIZDo79WPSXpvv_YitdSuXGbDQHNcZ-VTtysBN2K2_8WPM-C8lGzM8nIGRZFeMU0oKL4ZDxRGucyjAUgX4MAs3CvFQz7QjzpRT1_bfjfe1i7omjOLmJVAYIm3XcojU1/s320/DSCN1469.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Root Glacier on right, Kennicott Glacier on left, coming down and joining</td></tr>
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The stripes of dirt in between the white glacial ice is more of the moraine - dirt that is coving ice. When two glaciers come together, they each push dirt and rock and sand along their sides. So when they push together it forms these long strips of moraine. You can tell how many glaciers are joining by counting the stripes of dirt. Each stripe represents two glaciers that have joined. And again, the dirt is just a top layer, underneath is more ice!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmizUmwKpXDHRS_YosRGnu3n0R4iiZkD9u38yvSxuP7Pa9Qn8gGnDhUvKqbfceI63ctUqXbFPEJwIfLXtWm49rfDmdxYLRGpqshUHNQYpqc4O7yZAOPE-xDrAiASj1Sr1Q4sy95qnnXh2l/s1600/DSCN1472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmizUmwKpXDHRS_YosRGnu3n0R4iiZkD9u38yvSxuP7Pa9Qn8gGnDhUvKqbfceI63ctUqXbFPEJwIfLXtWm49rfDmdxYLRGpqshUHNQYpqc4O7yZAOPE-xDrAiASj1Sr1Q4sy95qnnXh2l/s320/DSCN1472.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking up the plain with a couple of the glaciers in sight</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuwU4jhk_NBPnn8wxXJd_ZgoeSzxiewlIdm7D15wk25RYySpdxdk2jp2Y-YoqPsdB3o-TnA3LEiUfVusay8NYsE5cm23dF2bb4LSvojLEHdUuwJkEUanHhWTGFSSUOtJkKjJ4UnDA8TrwG/s1600/DSCN1481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuwU4jhk_NBPnn8wxXJd_ZgoeSzxiewlIdm7D15wk25RYySpdxdk2jp2Y-YoqPsdB3o-TnA3LEiUfVusay8NYsE5cm23dF2bb4LSvojLEHdUuwJkEUanHhWTGFSSUOtJkKjJ4UnDA8TrwG/s320/DSCN1481.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back down the plain. Here you can see how glaciers flow like rivers<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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At one point, we were about 5,000 feet up and we were just flying directly at the side of an ice covered mountain. It had the effect of being a wall, because we couldn't see the top of the mountain for the clouds. Gary said they go up to about 13,000 feet around here. The effect was more menacing than standing on a glacier. My sense of being became smaller as my sense of the world became larger, if that makes sense.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPoNewRBBCR9bFg3Vqbre4qL2S9aES3mAVWNRxmkurMvkH1yLdRNIx3Zdcp-AL9GGXWbbeD4z9jgXHUXoKXqgGfhg00uBy7aFN2J00vH8FVNmtaiLAEbFBEAiDaWN4QqL_4fGP03I01ShA/s1600/DSCN1492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPoNewRBBCR9bFg3Vqbre4qL2S9aES3mAVWNRxmkurMvkH1yLdRNIx3Zdcp-AL9GGXWbbeD4z9jgXHUXoKXqgGfhg00uBy7aFN2J00vH8FVNmtaiLAEbFBEAiDaWN4QqL_4fGP03I01ShA/s320/DSCN1492.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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You know how sometimes pictures just don't do justice to what you saw? This is one of those times. The ice formations, snowy mountains, glaciers everywhere were some of the most incredible scenes I've ever laid eyes upon.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the best picture I have that gives the sense of brooding</td></tr>
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Finally, here's a video of some flying and snow and ice!</div>
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And wouldn't you know, after about 20 minutes....our camera battery died! We had no replacement. So we were forced to put away the tiny digital screen and simply take in the beauty with our eyes and with our hearts. What I can't show you is the packs of mountain goats, the mile high cliffs or the enormous rock glacier that looks like a giant lava flow. Those will just have to live in my memory (until we go back!)<br />
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With the time we had left that day, we took the shuttle back in to Kennicott, took in the sights, toured the old town a bit more, and got some pizza from the Pizza Bus.<br />
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The next morning, before leaving, we ate lunch at the campground restaurant (if you can call it that) and both got the famous "Glacier Burger." It was basically, just a hamburger, but pretty good. We swatted a few more mosquitos and got on the road for the long trip back to Anchorage.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZj7woHKYbuYTooq6-9v0dOdcYP5FRH06aZsMpQlAucR-2FrsPy2tZC8cYgoR3Qcl2FNb1o9q5MI2pacYZQYqw5jiNpCbWlk3mE-MH3j8CqKpZ7YHgVrIPJ5P_ZNiyvTKbuaRZWnL1kF1/s1600/DSCN1518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZj7woHKYbuYTooq6-9v0dOdcYP5FRH06aZsMpQlAucR-2FrsPy2tZC8cYgoR3Qcl2FNb1o9q5MI2pacYZQYqw5jiNpCbWlk3mE-MH3j8CqKpZ7YHgVrIPJ5P_ZNiyvTKbuaRZWnL1kF1/s320/DSCN1518.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On last picture from the foot bridge to McCarthy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAPPXRMkd6lFKPAVrR9QVstsPO9k9fZIGOg2MqNCjoji2_v9kE_bhpK10CRQVvgJzLtIcEKEkBJY2etNw07DywUaVwujSWOHT4175C716zZF9BaxsxfeHhyncawSsUtQM9IrQx7KDK7sM1/s1600/DSCN1522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAPPXRMkd6lFKPAVrR9QVstsPO9k9fZIGOg2MqNCjoji2_v9kE_bhpK10CRQVvgJzLtIcEKEkBJY2etNw07DywUaVwujSWOHT4175C716zZF9BaxsxfeHhyncawSsUtQM9IrQx7KDK7sM1/s320/DSCN1522.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mountains behind us is part of the area we flew around.</td></tr>
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Hope you enjoyed the pics!Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-18753820239730156622012-07-03T22:29:00.000-04:002012-07-03T22:29:32.184-04:00Alaska w/ Robert and Anna, 2012!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Our friends Robert and Anna visited us back in April, for their 2nd trip to America's Last Frontier. We love seeing them and never get to spend enough time together. While they were here this time, I made some strong head way in my plan to convince them to move to Alaska. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVIhocyuj0R4fT-EAEAFMG-p7dz6Pxj5gNVEOtEP5MnPqe8IwhbjWbXrQYcAkKDnedZrpk3J5mFun47TtL66tp_46-NvGF3-8y2lO5wTjp7c53DSHzCMNLgCO1m_2xuD2rcCLx6rnnlU3x/s1600/DSCN0687.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVIhocyuj0R4fT-EAEAFMG-p7dz6Pxj5gNVEOtEP5MnPqe8IwhbjWbXrQYcAkKDnedZrpk3J5mFun47TtL66tp_46-NvGF3-8y2lO5wTjp7c53DSHzCMNLgCO1m_2xuD2rcCLx6rnnlU3x/s320/DSCN0687.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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One of the first nights, we took them to eat at Simon and Seafort's, a fancy shmancy restaurant that sits on the water with a view of the sunset.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW3-szrXcV9s_TlAdPJgryfVXloOJgMpKhxFB_SyWh4n9NcKcTXThZJQBQ2nhT6MhrCtbEJzyGfaJ7TmUw8dympdGGdSdUc4oped7hT5nNDzD_6iMwKDvOoeTHApp74yk-LpzZk5fSWTpE/s1600/DSCN0705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW3-szrXcV9s_TlAdPJgryfVXloOJgMpKhxFB_SyWh4n9NcKcTXThZJQBQ2nhT6MhrCtbEJzyGfaJ7TmUw8dympdGGdSdUc4oped7hT5nNDzD_6iMwKDvOoeTHApp74yk-LpzZk5fSWTpE/s320/DSCN0705.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sunset view from our table</td></tr>
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Of course, in April, we still had to wait until after 9pm for the sun to go down.<br />
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Driving around some neighborhoods after dinner, Robert erupted in the car, "Ahhhh, STOP!" We all jumped. Then we realized, he had only spotted a moose in someone's front yard, feasting on a tree. It was a bit dark, and so he didn't show up in our photos too well. But here's the best one I could get.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHpHjCNVRDR5tBUQ5Bxifgp_KNweb-jdCWzPXViHg1TpcjMrvVH3FGzXOv_gPdHIiz6FEmPAa3pZH6FzUPb9z6e1-rXTnpRwJjtFpFt1I6VCRD7w1oHa4el0a67l5wmyXiOR7b7KdNm6I/s1600/DSCN0728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHpHjCNVRDR5tBUQ5Bxifgp_KNweb-jdCWzPXViHg1TpcjMrvVH3FGzXOv_gPdHIiz6FEmPAa3pZH6FzUPb9z6e1-rXTnpRwJjtFpFt1I6VCRD7w1oHa4el0a67l5wmyXiOR7b7KdNm6I/s320/DSCN0728.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Their visit this trip was less main-event-ful than last year's visit to Denali National Park. We spent more time around our apartment, playing games, and going to the YMCA. We love spending regular days with our friends.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquLU-8LIYHhBcA9zR1QxYgZNOfwWmoqho4QIqaQokfjAbhDCZhpRSViU0yO2b2US0GYWgVol9qs2CDfCwrVzkRIk7uoQZAx6LMzP-md7m115QT92u3zdnq8qmTYSwlYsL4NbcN7cMMmRW/s1600/DSCN0746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquLU-8LIYHhBcA9zR1QxYgZNOfwWmoqho4QIqaQokfjAbhDCZhpRSViU0yO2b2US0GYWgVol9qs2CDfCwrVzkRIk7uoQZAx6LMzP-md7m115QT92u3zdnq8qmTYSwlYsL4NbcN7cMMmRW/s320/DSCN0746.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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One day we met some local friends at the dog park to walk a spell. There were 9 people all together and about 5 dogs tromping around in the still thick snow.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lola and Kona competing over stick chewing rights</td></tr>
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Good times were had by all.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfU8e4eKCTvi7RQcjmPYKAmYDhjL-G-aWgfWrsB3KMU52HiN1mJ02l2kaENBZuc5-gDmhOyUXHCElNTCF5PDHVoNhc9mbc6NbUEjYwHLb4X8KCvxyfbcH3OQTWrTTIIyP2tPW9UfJXTJK/s1600/DSCN0760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfU8e4eKCTvi7RQcjmPYKAmYDhjL-G-aWgfWrsB3KMU52HiN1mJ02l2kaENBZuc5-gDmhOyUXHCElNTCF5PDHVoNhc9mbc6NbUEjYwHLb4X8KCvxyfbcH3OQTWrTTIIyP2tPW9UfJXTJK/s320/DSCN0760.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our two babies racing back to us!</td></tr>
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At one point we spotted a moose off the trail in a field. Anna walked the trail to a good picture spot. Robert, the hunter, took the wooded route. Only the snow was up past his knees so my friend was anything but stealth moving through the trees. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXFr3nTJ6RnqX0Wk_zYieTqepWNoopg6GseJZbRjqdfsBQ5QM72RaFpxBJJiD1LgjWeaBLsrfHngk85QkIdWtZJPZXBjFIWygrNntFZt7BCdaZY8hE1OA8iy3hmViVsk0bbKCSFDnN0N1/s1600/DSCN0761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXFr3nTJ6RnqX0Wk_zYieTqepWNoopg6GseJZbRjqdfsBQ5QM72RaFpxBJJiD1LgjWeaBLsrfHngk85QkIdWtZJPZXBjFIWygrNntFZt7BCdaZY8hE1OA8iy3hmViVsk0bbKCSFDnN0N1/s320/DSCN0761.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here they are walking back after photographing the moose (on the trail route)</td></tr>
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The one main "event" activity we did together, was to go skiing. Anna and Robert and wanted to try out their Eastern North Carolina ski legs again after having done it growing up.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxrGXQLeKkG8emjR6X-YpcbonpiH8-_CsB153S6Injxm2fDppQMmAoiTodp8td9muXO3cONvbf1mZxcSx7kKFRN2MYcMZoJLwSJxU4wdo9oOcsA5-RKQ-wf5RnIPVI6BQxZzrnlkLiBbLN/s1600/DSCN0775.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxrGXQLeKkG8emjR6X-YpcbonpiH8-_CsB153S6Injxm2fDppQMmAoiTodp8td9muXO3cONvbf1mZxcSx7kKFRN2MYcMZoJLwSJxU4wdo9oOcsA5-RKQ-wf5RnIPVI6BQxZzrnlkLiBbLN/s320/DSCN0775.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather and Anna with their "game" faces on</td></tr>
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Heather convinced Anna that a ski lesson would be a good idea to refresh herself. Robert opted out and followed me around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYs_2_YdM8Ij315RNsk_o3nSsdKeWfXmBV5Gk2kC6SM3_sMEL5Lk0j3QQGmKXTustFTeWYOQsjKR8ny52Z3-kUMAkCrF-OoX1xL9HKl13FwBAcDJH_uzPqCTe-wlhskFSKxjEXCn4CDzp8/s1600/DSCN0770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYs_2_YdM8Ij315RNsk_o3nSsdKeWfXmBV5Gk2kC6SM3_sMEL5Lk0j3QQGmKXTustFTeWYOQsjKR8ny52Z3-kUMAkCrF-OoX1xL9HKl13FwBAcDJH_uzPqCTe-wlhskFSKxjEXCn4CDzp8/s320/DSCN0770.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna - wore out</td></tr>
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Skiing is tiring. But after her lesson, Anna was a little snow bunny. She followed Heather around with her snow plow technique and could've gone anywhere.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5MF61YjxoWRMENeVIFHWlgQAsHdyK3vmUdUJnmiMFiE6YV77NrClbVvYpjGS4PtG5C1Dq4Yq6b5bmLY9H9UtNzdzXo0lAyu-n1077tKK3p4P1hpJdnnKQLhqF71h4jU-FS5nrvkyoApkw/s1600/DSCN0776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5MF61YjxoWRMENeVIFHWlgQAsHdyK3vmUdUJnmiMFiE6YV77NrClbVvYpjGS4PtG5C1Dq4Yq6b5bmLY9H9UtNzdzXo0lAyu-n1077tKK3p4P1hpJdnnKQLhqF71h4jU-FS5nrvkyoApkw/s320/DSCN0776.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert about to fall out</td></tr>
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"Snow bunny" is not exactly how I would describe Robert on skis. He powered his way down the hill, using muscles he hasn't engaged since....well....probably ever. Only once did he go down and refuse to get up until he was able to sit and rest.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRM4IbDLSbBFzyfBTy63vJmaE-bTZe4C2xeLbEr05iyYRpWIX7KOfU-tFS4Dxvym_euoW0Tlly4rVq-fRWuaoA8TLi02e7y4NX8Chl0pGeqNqTcczIWEWkMAsai7eT1AqlKl0iMWn6D8K/s1600/DSCN0772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRM4IbDLSbBFzyfBTy63vJmaE-bTZe4C2xeLbEr05iyYRpWIX7KOfU-tFS4Dxvym_euoW0Tlly4rVq-fRWuaoA8TLi02e7y4NX8Chl0pGeqNqTcczIWEWkMAsai7eT1AqlKl0iMWn6D8K/s320/DSCN0772.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna, finally to her feet, ready to go. "Go Anna go!" </td></tr>
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All in all, it was a good ski day. The weather was not the greatest, however. Overcast with spitting rain at the bottom, and sleet mid-mountain. Snow at the top, although, with beginners we didn't spend anytime there.<br />
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And lastly, before their trip to Alaska, Robert and I had a bet in place. A slap bet. To encourage my friend in his weight loss effort, he had agreed to a slap in the face if he hadn't reached a certain goal before coming to Alaska. I will let the video give the results.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz0aNJfC5ujqkbwk6A30_UhzdFU5a7FVC9wtOdQRGStP1uUER-1NaYSB4xlu14Syf2te8Xqzg0Zu7cduh8JYQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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p.s. Robert and I have yet, another slap bet in place for when we will see each other this coming October. Hopefully, the results will be different.Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-65056879883882116802012-07-03T21:08:00.000-04:002012-07-03T21:08:29.456-04:00Cheap Licks vs Costly LicksThis is the next installment in the Dog Theology series. <br />
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Bear with me while I project some personification (perhaps a li'l too much) onto my dogs. <br />
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For those of you who have met my two dogs, you're immediately aware of their very different personalities. Lola, the younger one, is an energetic hound who sees the world as her playground. Everything she sees or encounters is a new form of entertainment, something about which to get excited. She is the embodiment of happiness. Every person she meets is yet another human for her to give her little puppy love to. She loves everybody, strangers, big people, little people, even my dad. Whoever you are, where ever you are, know that my dog, Lola, loves you. She will gladly run to you and lick you all over if you let her. She will give you as much love as you will let her. (And she'll take as much belly rubbin' in return as you can manage.) <br />
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Licks are a dog's equivalent of an "I love you" (or "you taste good"). <strong>And Lola's licks come cheap</strong>. Anyone can have them, anytime. It takes very little effort to get love from Lola.<br />
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Our older dog, Dakota, has a different outlook on life. This animal (if you can call her that--she would prefer princess) is far more cunning than her less-whitted sister. She plans two, sometimes three, moves ahead on how to get food (her main reason for living). She knows how to get Lola out of the favored doggy bed by passive-aggressively seeking attention from mom and dad. She'll come to me wagging for affection. This attention makes Lola jealous causing Lola to rise from the coveted dog-bed and come for some attention as well. But the moment Lola leaves the bed, Dakota will turn her tail to me and steal the dog-bed. Makes me feel so used.<br />
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Dakota does not love everyone, especially my dad. In fact, most people have to earn her love. She's weary of strangers and only on her terms may you pet her. To recieve an affectionate lick from Dakota is no small deal. Your motivation for seeking her affection must be genuine. Otherwise she senses your less-than-genuine motivation and withholds the lick. Her affection must be sought with fervor. <br />
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<strong>Dakota's licks are costly.</strong> It takes a fair amount of effort, of investment to receive them. <br />
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The 20th century theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote a book call <em>The Cost of Discipleship.</em> In it he gave a lot of attention to distinguishing between what he called Cheap Grace vs Costly Grace.<br />
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Here is what Bonhoeffer himself wrote:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><u>Cheap grace</u></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">means grace sold on the market like a cheapjack's wares. The sacraments, the forgiveness of sin, and the consolations of religion are thrown away at cut-rate prices. Grace is represented as the Church's inexhaustible treasury, from which she showers blessings with generous hands, without asking questions or fixing limits. Grace without price; grace without cost! And the essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid in advance; and, because it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing. Since the cost was infinite, the possibilities of using and spending it are infinite. What would grace be, if it were not cheap?</span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">In such a Church the world finds a cheap covering for its sins; no contrition is required, still less any real desire to be delivered from sin.</span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Cheap grace means the justification of sin without the justification of the sinner. Grace alone does everything, they say, and so everything can remain as it was before. { p. 42}</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, (it is) baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate." { p. 43-4}</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"></span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">"<u>Costly grace</u> is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man will gladly go and sell all that he has. It is the pearl of great price to buy which the merchant will sell all his goods. It is the kingly rule of Christ, for whose sake of one will pluck out the eye which causes him to stumble; it is the call of Jesus Christ at which the disciple leaves his nets and follows him. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span> </blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Costly grace is the gospel which must be <i>sought</i> again and again, the gift which must be <i>asked for</i>, the door at which a man must <i>knock</i>. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span> </blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Such grace is <i>costly</i> because it calls us to follow, and it is <i>grace</i> because it calls us to follow<i>Jesus Christ</i>. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: "ye were bought at a price," and and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is <i>grace</i> because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Grace is costly because it compels a man to submit to the yoke of Christ and follow him; it is grace because Jesus says: "my yoke is easy and my burden light." { p. 45}</span></blockquote>
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I find myself reminded of one of life's general themes: <i>those things that are worth doing are not easy</i>. Conversely, the easy things in life tend to have less meaning and worth. Cheap food is generally not healthy. It takes effort to eat well and lose weight. Weight loss is earned. It is tough. It takes loads of effort, but it results in a notable achievement. Liposuction surgery is a form of cheap (though expensive) weight loss. It is devoid of the struggle, the effort, the discipline of exercise-driven, motivated, and focused natural weight loss. The tough path is more worthwhile.<br />
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Professional accomplishments in life follow the same theme. Putting in years of service, day in and day out, for a company to one day earn a job position of authority and responsibility is costly. It takes devotion to your work and loyalty to a company. It takes showing that you're capable and skilled at your work, whatever type of work you're in. It may take more education, which is itself a difficult task. Things that are worthwhile, require taking the tougher road. The easy road is simply coming to work for a paycheck. Punching your time card, and getting the minimum required work done. It is easier, although the results are generally less meaningful. There is costly work ethic, and there is cheap work ethic.<br />
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There are countless other life categories in which this principle applies. Finances: in order to save money, it takes financial discipline - something at which our culture (and government) is terrible. Marriage: getting married is the easy part, making it work for 30, 40, 50 years takes effort, lots of effort. But the result is worth it.<br />
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Raising children. Running a marathon. Writing a book. Preparing a performance. And in so many other facets of life, the theme remains constant: the tough road is worthwhile, the easy road comes cheap.<br />
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As I read Bonhoeffer's description of cheap and costly grace, I hear him pleading for Christians to make the grace of God worthwhile. Don't cheapen it by always taking the easy road in life and in love. It is one thing to say that in this life I'm am trying to follow the way of Jesus. For that is easy enough to say. It is another thing entirely to actually do it.<br />
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Question for commenters: what other parts of life follow the theme that tougher roads are more worthwhile? And do you see any exceptions to this trend?Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-42921985257332687462012-05-28T20:42:00.001-04:002012-05-29T11:05:36.876-04:00Colorado w/ the famBack in March, my parents got, what seems to have been their wish for the past 10 years, all their kids together for a family ski trip.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left to right: Heather, Me, Mom, Dad, Adam, Audrey, Nora</td></tr>
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Well, they almost got it. We were minus one essential person without Lance-a-roo.<br />
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And I learned just how difficult it is to be part of planning a trip that involves at least four different couples' schedules and time-off needs. There was a circus of emails at one point just trying to find if everyone was able to go at the same time. Nonetheless, we converged on Breckonridge, CO during spring break in March.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0nO3ksNWCkgoHMvHT7Qkf47KwVVmmlKrLMyQxElvB8pUn_FEmcLOJ25HTuOrECmnvAteOuZ6MvSMMWGPaRfWGeLSUigFzD5LVot-KzqFUxJFDbbE1kN1UpqhNxYsbRsbtaYZ7lcrVow2k/s1600/DSCN0626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0nO3ksNWCkgoHMvHT7Qkf47KwVVmmlKrLMyQxElvB8pUn_FEmcLOJ25HTuOrECmnvAteOuZ6MvSMMWGPaRfWGeLSUigFzD5LVot-KzqFUxJFDbbE1kN1UpqhNxYsbRsbtaYZ7lcrVow2k/s320/DSCN0626.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
For some reason (we're still trying to figure out why) Heather and I left Alaska (the place with record breaking snow fall) and travelled to Colorado (the place with almost record breaking lack of snow fall). This entire winter, Heather and I have been spoiled with deep fresh powder almost every day we went skiing in Alaska.<br />
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For instance, I'll interrupt with this brief story about all the snow we've had. One day I was skiing the North Face (longest double black diamond accessible by lift in N. America), and having a good ol' time. But the clouds were very grey and overcast. The light was very flat and it was difficult to see the terrain in front of me. On a more flattish area, I was cruisin' at medium speed when suddenly (!) the ground from underneath my skis fell away! I started to yell, "Oh shi" when Kupluff! I didn't have time to finish my cuss word before I pancaked into the vertical side-wall of the huge trench. Like the wily cayote, I was arms-out, still-standing, face-first, smack into a wall of snow! Stopped, dead in my tracks. I never saw it coming.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My trench! I went back and found it and photographed it. Behind you can see the meanest portion of the North Face. It's hard to tell the dimensions of the trench, but standing in the center bottom, both side walls were over my 6'3" head. </td></tr>
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But the point of this story is that there was over a foot of fresh soft snow that day. My impact, though it knocked the wind and scared the be-geezus out of me, was considerably soft. Had I hit anything else at that speed (tree, person, slow-sign) I would've no doubt been injured. But, in my trench, after checking my face for blood, I came out unscathed and laughing. And that folks is how much snow we had last winter.<br />
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Not so in Colorado. In the end, we had a great time. We found the good patches of snow during the day and played lots of games in the evenings. I got to laugh at my sister's obsession with Dominion (which I started), and we all laughed the entire time during a painfully long game of Quelf.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My brother is doing his best impression of Jayne Cobb, while in Canton. You know "....the man they call Jayne."</td></tr>
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Every day, the weather was beautifully clear and hot. Mostly it was around 50 degrees in the day. This meant skiing open jacket and risking sunburn--the real reason my brother and Nora (his pseudo wife) are so covered.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2jfZLTL-7mdEx1Qd8F5YByslukB6I2GoaISUVPPUATE6we6i34oEQsGIJC11y0lH1b7aff1TwOqPxZ_7Yw_DL_jg4BAHvwADvdogUK29lY-fjKJ3p8CCBmVxYZNSCoTd7TkghPTFgoss/s1600/DSCN0630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2jfZLTL-7mdEx1Qd8F5YByslukB6I2GoaISUVPPUATE6we6i34oEQsGIJC11y0lH1b7aff1TwOqPxZ_7Yw_DL_jg4BAHvwADvdogUK29lY-fjKJ3p8CCBmVxYZNSCoTd7TkghPTFgoss/s320/DSCN0630.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sister, celebrating and showing off her massive guns. Though I'm not sure what she's celebrating, cause she's about to go down a really steep sheet of ice. </td></tr>
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There's a small momentous occasion worth note from this trip. After this trip, I feel I can say I have surpassed by father in skiing ability. This isn't bragging for me, but rather a recognition of sorts. Really, one might say that it's about time a twenty-something was better than a fifty-something at such a physically taxing sport. But, growing up, dad was always the best skier. He has a very smooth form and could always ski any run on the mountain he wanted to. It took me two seasons of regular skiing in Alaska and a few pointers from a ski instructor to take the mantle. Not bad, dad. Not bad at all. I hope I'm in my fifties before my kids get better than me. That's no small feet.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcq8RnsTmWzz0u9Vi9UyjNAUNRZBesxnhSgSjUmSeV64ShohTGP26jacu5UVB2M5CpWyhwkQnyMx0tlTxjpPV0VZu47dW4RpVMbIyLX8nzn5R2c-chhKJ0sBUuVd5q0R78qb5ZgfqStMjv/s1600/DSCN0633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcq8RnsTmWzz0u9Vi9UyjNAUNRZBesxnhSgSjUmSeV64ShohTGP26jacu5UVB2M5CpWyhwkQnyMx0tlTxjpPV0VZu47dW4RpVMbIyLX8nzn5R2c-chhKJ0sBUuVd5q0R78qb5ZgfqStMjv/s320/DSCN0633.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of Breckonridge Ski Area from Keystone</td></tr>
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Lastly, here's a video of me killing a mogul field.<br />
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<br />Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-79151031721321095072012-04-05T17:30:00.001-04:002012-04-05T17:30:45.583-04:00A Whole New World, by Jan and Tony Cartledge<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKh-SCdwQC4jHQ4lsqBjVQwJr3Ikv2G_RHT1sk3GYHrqH4DpkuCK0t_r79uvd5foy6gfpdmtlnDEF9-Io-K13KdgZGGOn-JUb8JC1vtmt-ztlG9EkXHAbab2zK1yZkjW7_Tf09EdRDtKVr/s1600/imagesCAX64UL6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKh-SCdwQC4jHQ4lsqBjVQwJr3Ikv2G_RHT1sk3GYHrqH4DpkuCK0t_r79uvd5foy6gfpdmtlnDEF9-Io-K13KdgZGGOn-JUb8JC1vtmt-ztlG9EkXHAbab2zK1yZkjW7_Tf09EdRDtKVr/s1600/imagesCAX64UL6.jpg" /></a>Tony Cartledge, one of my seminary professors, taught a class on the books of 1 & 2 Samuel, which became my favorite class from seminary. It was only his second semester, then, as a professor at Campbell Divinity School. When it was announced that he would be joining the faculty at Campbell, my pastor at the time, who is a friend of Tony's, told me something like this, "Tony Cartledge is a man who knows something about life. Campbell will be lucky to have him."</div>
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I later learned what my pastor was referring to when he said, "He knows something about life." Dr. Cartledge, when he was a pastor, had a seven year old daughter who was killed when the car they were driving was hit by a drunk driver. Their sweet daughter's life had been cut short by another man's terrible decision to drink and drive.</div>
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Some years later, Tony and his wife Jan (who is also a minister), wrote <i>A Whole New World: Life After Bethany</i>, a book about their grief experience and the impact that losing a daughter had on their lives.</div>
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My new job is to offer support and counseling to bereaved families who lose a loved one on hospice care. I have learned and am learning much about the mourning experience and the grief process. So, I thought with this new job, it was time I picked up my professor's book and read about his experience with grief.</div>
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The book opens up by telling the horrific story of the tragic accident through the eyes of Tony and his wife, Jan. Tony was driving Bethany home from her grandparents' house in South Carolina. The accident took place still several hours away from their home in North Carolina. It happened in the mid-90s, which was just before you could expect everyone to have a cell phone. So, it took some time for Jan to hear about it, and information gathering happened a little slower than nowadays.</div>
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As Tony and Jan recap the events, they're not shy in sharing emotions from their experience. The subsequent chapters paint a beautiful and painful picture of grief's messy collage. Dealing with broken ribs in the ICU, guilt brought on by "What if..." questions, the pain of seeing his daughter lying motionless moments after the wreck, painful recovery time and transfers to a NC hospital, Tony's story is vivid and terrifying. Jan's account, as she planned and attended Bethany's funeral without her husband, cared for herself as well as a broken Tony, wrestled with intense anger and struggled with forgiveness, is heart wrenching and endeared me toward her all at once.</div>
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They share about how their faith community, Woodhaven Baptist Church, acted as the church was meant to act, as the body of Christ, as the hands, feet and caring faces of Jesus. They shared what was helpful and what was not, as well-meaning friends and family offered comfort. <br />
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I noticed that Tony's entries tended to offer theological reflection and new conclusions. These sections engaged my seminary-<strike>tainted</strike> trained brain, causing me to reflect in new ways on death, life, God's role in suffering and beliefs as a bandaid vs source of hope. Jan's entries were heavier on the deapth of the emotional journey through a wilderness of feelings never before considered. Her writing opened to me the cyclical process of grief, and the difficulty in finding forgiveness as they confronted Bethany's killer and struggled for justice through the court system all the while struggling with grief. </div>
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The book is well written, and thought out. It's very readable and flows at a pleasant pace. It is not long, but coveres a vast journey in it's pages. I will keep it in my mind as I often recommend resources to grieving parents, spouses, children and friends. </div>
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Thank you Tony and Jan, for sharing your story, for sharing you hearts, and for opening up yourselves to me and so many others. Having read your words, I feel somehow connected to you, connected to dear sweet Bethany. From this book I have grown, I have learned and I have been blessed.Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-42780967286260117982012-04-04T17:35:00.000-04:002012-04-05T17:35:44.401-04:00I've Been TaggedMaybe responding to this "tagging" will pull me out of my blogging slump. I hope so. I just read about this "game" going around the blogosphere from my sister's blog. She tagged me to respond/participate, so now I have too. <br />
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<u>The Rules</u><br />
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1.Post these rules<br />
2.You must post 11 random things about yourself<br />
3.Answer the questions set for you in the post you were tagged in<br />
4.Create 11 new questions for your tagees to answer<br />
5.Tag them on Twitter, Facebook or your blog<br />
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<u>11 Random Facts About Me</u><br />
1. I have an abnormally large space between my first and second toes. With said toes, I can pick up a tennis ball<br />
2. My favorite M&Ms are by far the peanut butter kind, followed by the dark chocolate as a close second<br />
3. My favorite band of all time is the Dave Matthews Band. I had one of my first beers, during high school, at a DMB concert in Raliegh, NC, when my older (of age) sister bought me one. For some reason, I'm very fond of this memory. Thanks, Audrey. <br />
4. I regret giving up piano lessons when I was little. I'd love to be able to play now. <br />
5. I love to teach. And I think I'm a good teacher. Whenever I finally "arrive" in a career, I'd like it to involve at least some element of teaching. <br />
6. The other day, I bench pressed 235 lbs. That's 127% of my body weight, and the weight-loss goal for my friend Robert that if he doesn't reach by next week I get to slap him in the face for free.<br />
7. I love to play music and learn new instruments. So far, I can play, many kinds of drums, 4-mallet marimba and vibraophone, guitar, piano, harmonica, Native American flute and a mean kazoo. <br />
8. When I was unemployed, I learned to juggle and how to solve a Rubix Cube.<br />
9. I can clap with one hand. Not cheating or anything. I can really do it. <br />
10. When I was 13, I caught a 65 lb King Salmon during my first trip to Alaska. <br />
11. I love bad puns! The worse the pun, the better. <br />
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<u>11 Questions I Was Asked To Answer</u><br />
1.What’s your earliest childhood memory? - I have vague memories about my families first house in north Asheville. I remember the hill in the front yard, exploring the woods out back. I remember a small living room and sharing a room with my older brother. One time, during his sleep, my brother rolled out of the top bunk and into the open toy box - it didn't wake him up.<br />
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2.What place would you most like to visit? - Australia. Since I was little I've always wanted to go to Australia. <br />
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3.What’s the scariest thing you have ever done? - As a young'un, I was terrified of roller coasters. Getting on my first one was terrifying. Of course, since then, I love them! Also, sleeping in the back of a truck while boar hunting as a kid, I was pretty scared because of what my brother kept telling me.<br />
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4.When was the last time you got a giggle fit and what caused it? - Sitting on the couch with my wife not too long ago, we both got to laughing and couldn't stop. I absolutely love the sound of her genuine laugh, that giggle sound that comes out without expectation. We got to laughing, I think, because we were both just being absolutely silly - you know the kind of silly you would only be in front of certain people. <br />
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5.How many cars have you owned? - <br />
1982 Monte Carlo (a. k. a. The Pimp Mobile) <br />
1995 Mitsubithi Expo (minivan thang) <br />
2002 Saturn Coupe (probably my favorite of all time so far)<br />
1998 Dodge Neon (it didn't last long. Heather was run off the road by a mac truck which totalled this car)<br />
1982? Buick (A great running grandma car given to us by my granda after Heather's wreck)<br />
2008 Dodge Ram (affectionately named Jayne. You know, like the hero of Canton...)<br />
1996 Chevy Blazer (A clunker bought in AK as a cheap get-around-town car. It was cheap and it barely gets around)<br />
Wow, that was more cars that I realized!<br />
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6.Who were your childhood heroes? <br />
Michael Jordan - he was the greatest. I wanted to play basketball like Mike. I used to practice all the time, for hours, in our driveway, but I never got good like Mike. <br />
My dad - As a kid, dad was my hero, and I thought he knew everything and could do anything. Even though he's no longer my hero in that childhood sense, I still think very highly of what he's accomplished in life. And I've also learned that when he doesn't "know" the answer, he's pretty good at making something up that sounds like it could be...hehe (sorry for "outing" you dad). <br />
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7.What was your favorite game as a child? - So many to choose from as our family played LOTS of games. Some highlights were Risk, Monopoly, Capture the Flag, Gestures, Scattagories, but the winner would probably have to be Taboo. <br />
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8.What book have you read that had a profound impact on you? - I can't name just one. <br />
Blue like Jazz, by Don Miller (this was the first eye opener to me that conservative evangelical theology may not be the pinnacle of Christian theology)<br />
A Fine Balance, by Rohinton Mistry (true stories are always the profoundest)<br />
A New Kind of Christianity, by Brian McLaren (more on the death of conservative theology within me)<br />
The Total Money Makeover, by Dave Ramsey (Priceless practical advice on managing life and money)<br />
The Bible (This list wouldn't be honest or complete without this one, even though I haven't read it cover to cover)<br />
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9.If you won the lottery, what’s the first thing you would do? - Pay off school debt, then call Dave Ramsey and ask for advice.<br />
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10.Who was your favorite teacher and why? - My New Testament/Greek professor in seminary, Dr. Wakefield, is probably my favorite of all. He really inspired me to learn and be a better person through his teaching. He's now the dean of the seminary. <br />
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11.What is the thing you like best about yourself? - My sense of humor and with it my ability to be likeable very quickly. <br />
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<u>11 Questions For You To Answer</u><br />
1. Who was your first kiss and how old were you? <br />
2. If you could go back and change one decision you've made in life, what would it be? <br />
3. Which person, (alive, dead, or historical) has had the greatest influence on your life?<br />
4. What thing in life or moment in life are you the most proud of? <br />
5. When was a time when your heart was broken?<br />
6. Which was your favorite Power Ranger?<br />
7. What is your favorite food?<br />
8. Have you ever reached the end of your rope, your breaking point, your wit's end, been pushed beyond your capacity? What was it like?<br />
9. What has been your favorite pet? (If you've had no pets, your favorite animal?)<br />
10. What word(s) would you like to know the definition of?<br />
11. If you won the lottery, what is the first and last thing you would do with the money?<br />
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<u>Now I'm Tagging: </u><br />
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Robert at <a href="http://soakinguptheworld.blogspot.com/">Soaking up the world</a> (my sister tagged him, now he has more pressure to blog)<br />
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Erin at <a href="http://erin-oncall.blogspot.com/">On Call</a><br />
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Vicki at <a href="http://showinguptothemoment.blogspot.com/">Showing up to the Moment</a>Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-52337146041140672872012-02-25T16:14:00.000-05:002012-02-25T16:18:07.786-05:00Sadie Bee<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Meet Sadie. She is a pure bread Miniature Doberman Pincher, who belongs to my dear sister-in-law, Lauren. And as such, she is the newest member of the family. She was born Oct. 9th, 2011. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Probably full grown at 6 lbs.</td></tr>
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When Lauren graduated from college, her sister promised her a puppy when she was ready. Approaching this past Christmas, Lauren told us she was ready for a little darling.<br />
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Already knowing which breed we were looking for, we found Minpin breeder not far from Raleigh. And during our trip home to NC before Christmas, we picked up a 9 week old cutie!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the car ride from the breeder's</td></tr>
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We met Lauren at work and presented her with her new baby. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lauren meets Sadie for the 1st time</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her first leash outing with Lauren, already has beautiful stance</td></tr>
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Back at Lauren's apartment, Sadie is no stranger to "ruff" housing and playing around. </div>
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But, like every puppy, after a bit of fun play, she was out like a light on her new bed. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can't tell from this picture, but she's sleeping under the X-mas tree</td></tr>
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Lauren may not like me saying, but she's got some sassy-ness about her. And because of this, I thought it was hilarious when that little dog, after the first time Lauren tried to discipline it, gave Lauren all the kind of sassy protesting she could muster. A fitting match, I think.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sassy Lauren, waiting for her new "dog"hter to pee outside rather than inside again</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-78443973213934510672012-02-20T17:47:00.002-05:002012-04-04T13:11:13.590-04:00We Need A New Word, part 2<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4G6IcVvFdHxMidlXASMhT4LKu6iWDPnkcDD599Ovkamc9IWS9fet98rLSOwuod3Hzzm_xfej5onUAG87R_XUFSxu_jkFiX83Su4MfGcmSPjmaQw5F-Rg4yU73RI3NXpfE9WKQ2hlKLqKR/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4G6IcVvFdHxMidlXASMhT4LKu6iWDPnkcDD599Ovkamc9IWS9fet98rLSOwuod3Hzzm_xfej5onUAG87R_XUFSxu_jkFiX83Su4MfGcmSPjmaQw5F-Rg4yU73RI3NXpfE9WKQ2hlKLqKR/s1600/untitled.bmp" yda="true" /></a>In my last blog post, in which I considered the Enlish language's lack of a word to denote a long-term committed relationship that does not involve contractual marriage, I offered a few possible words and asked for more suggestions. </div>
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Since then, I've been asking people and even trying out some of the alternate words in casual conversation to see how they "go over." I've also gotten some good feedback from the comments. </div>
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One commentor offered that we call these people who are in our family though not by law, "family." As she noted, this is not a new word, but simply a wonderful inclusion that expresses love and acceptance, two things of which I'm in favor. So, while I very much like this suggestion, it doesn't solve the problem. </div>
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My mother suggests that because Kiwanis (a Christian men's group) uses the term "partner," and since it's good enough for this national organization it ought to be good enough for everyone else. But, I already expressed why I think "partner" is not quite right. At least not yet. Society still thinks "partner" means homosexual.</div>
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Similarly, another comment shared that "life partner" is used by the company she works for. And, it's understandable why the coorporate world prefers this term. It's easy, and most companies nowadays don't care of about the gay/straight issue to which this term might give rise. </div>
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Audrey also stated that she sometimes says she's "unmarried" or "a little bit married" to her long-time committed boyfriend. Generally, I like this phraseology. It's witty fairly and clearly describing their circumstances. </div>
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An unknown-to-me commentor agreed she doesn't like "partner" for reasons that it sounds too uptight or formal. She suggested "spouse," but obviously this doesn't work, because "spouse" comes with too much assumption of a marriage contract. The marrieds have the patent on "spouse." She says that she refers to her boyfriend of 18 years as her "man," which he likes. Though, I'm not ready to close the deal with "man/woman," because, let's be honest, it would just be weird and unclear if I started talking about my brother and his "woman."</div>
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Last night, in casual conversation I tried using the term, "unwife." Afterwards I asked the person I was talking to if she knew what I meant. She did not. I then suggested "not-wife," which she immediately thought was better. </div>
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We talked about it some more and came up with some more suggestions, which are "semi-wife/husband," "pseudo-wife/husband" and "para-wife/husband." Of these three I like "para-" the least and "pseudo-" the most. If I casually refer to my sister and her "psuedo-husband" in conversation, I think the correct meaning would translate fairly well to most people. Though, "semi-husband/wife/spouse" is a close 2nd to "pseudo-." What do you think between these two? </div>
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Further thoughts on "not-." I previously said that I'm not sold on "not-wife/husband," because it may convey a negative connotation of condemnation: that though these two are <em>not</em> married they should be. But does the term "not-spouse" actually convey this? Or am I just being a little paranoid of offending people? If you are in an unmarried although committed relationship, how does this term sound to your ears? Do you find it offensive in the least? Condemning?</div>
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Another option for seaching out a new word/term is to come up with an acronym that can be used as a noun. For instance, I could refer to the Person I Live With Un-Married as my "PILWUM." Now, "Pilwum" isn't very smooth, but I imagine more creative minds could do better than I did after only two minutes of thinking on it.</div>
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So, it's time for deeper discussion people! We need a new word, and the popularity of this blog is just the platform to spawn something that can take our society by storm! Comments, comments comments, please.Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-30392499586669312602012-02-08T23:31:00.000-05:002012-04-04T13:10:42.691-04:00We Need A New Word!Please help. Both my brother and my sister have, respectively, a girlfriend and a boyfriend with whom they live. And I don't know what to call them!<br />
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My sister lives in Raleigh with her boyfriend who is totally chill, go-with-the-flow, witty and is someone to whom I look up in the field of bad puns. I love them both and have spent many of my favorite family nights around a game table at their house or on the couch playing Wii. If my sister ever did anything to jeapordize their relationship, I'd be upset with her and miss him with a pouty stuck out lower lip. <br />
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My brother lives in Chicago with his brainy, dry-sense-of-humor and awesome girlfriend. She is working on her Ph. D. in something about which, I know nothing. I love them both and miss hanging out together as we did when we all lived in the same town. In fact, if my brother ever did something to jeapordize his relationship with her, I'd head slap him a good one. Actually, there was once some form of proposal and an exchange of an engagement ring between them. But, that was a number of years ago, and as far as I know there are no active plans in the works to get hitched. So, I could call her my brother's fiancee, but that kind of conveys a message that doesn't fit.<br />
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I think of both my brother's and my sister's significant others as family, siblings-in-law, just as much as if there was a signed marriage contract registered with the state. The fact that there is no such document between either couple doesn't matter to me at all. As far as I'm concerned, my bro and sis are in committed relationships each with someone who cares deeply for them and treats them well. <br />
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Here's my problem. In casual conversation, I get caught up when describing my family and referring to these people. It doesn't do it justice to refer to her as my brother's "<strong>girlfriend</strong>" or to him as my sister's "<strong>boyfriend</strong>." Because, "boy-" and "girl-friend" implies a relationship in which people are dating, or are less committed, are younger or whatever. It just doesn't say it right. So when talking about them I have to say, "My bro's girlfriend...well, they've been together 10+ years and live together so..." (people shake their heads in understanding). So, "boyfriend/girlfriend" is out. <br />
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What about "<strong>significant other</strong>." This term in the English language in western American culture best describes the situation. But the problem is it takes so much effort to say. I mean come on, it's 6 entire syllables that don't flow smoothly off the tounge. And, I just don't like it very much. It's dry, bland, almost academic in nature. It conveys no feeling or care whatsoever. In the world of words, it's as tasteful as a rice cake. <br />
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<strong>Partner:</strong> some people would refer to them as a "partner," or "life-partner." And this one isn't bad. Except, at least where I come from, many people associate "partner" with same-sex relationships. If you say casually, my uncle Carl's partner..." most people will simply assume uncle Carl is gay. So, if you use partner, you always have to qualify it, which takes more time and effort and interrupts whatever story you may be telling. <br />
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A quick Google search shows people suggesting phrases such as common-law marriage, cohabitating, defacto relationship, domestic partners, roommates with advantages, and one even suggested that we call these non-married couples, "happy." But none of these suggestions work for me. <br />
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So, back to the title of this blog: We need a new word. I'd like to be able to smoothly tell about my sister or brother and describe their person-with-whose-life-they-are-conjoined-yet-legally-unmarried using a word that is accurate and rolls smothly off the tounge. <br />
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Here's what I've got so far. On my own, I came up with the mildly creative term, "not-husband/not-wife." I've recieved some good reviews and chuckles on this one, and people seem to instantly know what I mean. But, simply adding the negation (e.g. "not") in front of husband/wife kind of implies that something is lacking, incomplete, wrong. It almost implies that they should be married or something, and I don't want to <em>should</em> on anybody. So, this one is, at best, close, but not a winner. Perhaps we should consider "unwife/unhusband." This would remove the negative connotation that something is lacking and replace with the suggestions that something (i.e. the marriage) simply isn't there.<br />
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From my brother's witty un-wife, I heard the term "outlaw." For instance, she might refer to us by saying to a friend, "I'm going to spend the weekend with my outlaws." I like this phrase, and I think it has potential to maybe catch on; however, currently it's a little clunky in the singular. For instance, it would take a little getting used to to say, "My brother-outlaw is really good at poker."<br />
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That's it. I have no other options. That's why I think we need a new word for this kind of relationship. I think that "partner" has the best chance at filling this void, but we'll have to wait and see what our culture does with the connotation currently attached to it.<br />
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So, I'm looking for suggestions. What have you heard in your circles? What rolls smoothly off the tongue for you? We need new words!! I want to hear your suggestions.Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-78402699794359063962012-01-29T13:29:00.002-05:002012-04-04T13:09:30.552-04:00Alaska with Audrey and Lance, part 2: Beluga Point, Buckeyes and a li'l mo Moose<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Days 3 & 4: Ohio State, Turnagain Arm, Twilight, moore moose and the beginning of an obsession</div>
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Saturday morning we awoke early and went to a local sports bar to eat breakfast and watch the biggest football rivalry in college sports: Ohio State vs Michigan. Lance is an avid Ohio state fan and graduate (I think). In fact, he's such a big fan he once again wore shorts to go watch the game. (Don't know if he intended the shorts to be a means of rooting for his team, but it sure seemed extreme enough to me to be an act of Buckeye support.)</div>
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Short story short, the Buckeyes didn't have it in'em that day and came up with an "L" on their record against the Michigan Wolverines. Booo. A sad Lance makes for a san Nathan too. </div>
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Later on that day, because it so so crystal clear and beautiful outside, we took a drive down to the Turnagain Arm. This is a inlet of water just south of Anchorage that is about 30 miles long. With snow-covered mountains on both sides and the road hugging the winding topography, it is for sure my favorite scenic road ever. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4eaW6F7Z4-jOj4yyIxqYRGa-ItuDOEJ7A8l39MjwiJfq_tp-vWNEjXYg4CL6FOT6l0NRQuW1m0DILKGd_sihUxvCuonwv-e4VMdyFoTPr0VWxSV75WoflN-EgkpMw9uX63RIRtSu1_uPb/s1600/IMG_0111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4eaW6F7Z4-jOj4yyIxqYRGa-ItuDOEJ7A8l39MjwiJfq_tp-vWNEjXYg4CL6FOT6l0NRQuW1m0DILKGd_sihUxvCuonwv-e4VMdyFoTPr0VWxSV75WoflN-EgkpMw9uX63RIRtSu1_uPb/s320/IMG_0111.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turnagain arm, looking out toward the inlet</td></tr>
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The tid was in at the time, but the water had so many frozen areas and some fresh snow fallen on it that, from this picture, it hardly looks like what you'd think ocean water might look like.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Audrey, in her Buckeye garb</td></tr>
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We stopped at a fun pull off known as Beluga Point. There's a rather large island thingy that you can climb out and around on (during the summer when it's warmish). But even from the road the views are great.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNIHJCnhrZnqL05mt8HS7-A9pK3hj6heyKg-7UGgQM3zEHqk0LgfJ6xGjlSzeel8yG3_wHylzHSspBFayVJZiCaZHbajeU2WWrVSVYm9auvDrDJzv6v-w_tzotwg-i-ftvsFgNAeKarLV/s1600/IMG_0115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNIHJCnhrZnqL05mt8HS7-A9pK3hj6heyKg-7UGgQM3zEHqk0LgfJ6xGjlSzeel8yG3_wHylzHSspBFayVJZiCaZHbajeU2WWrVSVYm9auvDrDJzv6v-w_tzotwg-i-ftvsFgNAeKarLV/s320/IMG_0115.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of Beluga Point visible behind us</td></tr>
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We never stayed out of the car long since it was fairly windy and quite chilly that day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCz7bhax19tjmEdl-Lsq9CHvIQs1Ssj-yfUJWD8IsJgBxsIChRd5fERgxtiLIPgrSc2Fqic-WQewLEfJa9olTenROACOn8AqvFyU7UgEAYiNFmFCRHLJJRtDv_QuzYunmfzRcKPALBAcA/s1600/IMG_0127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCz7bhax19tjmEdl-Lsq9CHvIQs1Ssj-yfUJWD8IsJgBxsIChRd5fERgxtiLIPgrSc2Fqic-WQewLEfJa9olTenROACOn8AqvFyU7UgEAYiNFmFCRHLJJRtDv_QuzYunmfzRcKPALBAcA/s320/IMG_0127.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This pic shows how the road sits between water and steep mountain side</td></tr>
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On to the main reason why Audrey really came to Alaska - Twilight. Since the second of Stephanie Meyer's Twilight movies hit theaters, Audrey and Heather have seen them together in the theater. As far as I know, this wasn't really planned, but it kind of happened, and now there's precedent for coming to AK to see a movie. I don't know...ask them. It's something fun, and they've bonded over the glistening shirtless muscle rippling ware wolves of Team Jacob.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNITRMvs6Yjz23DJJ5rEyMgkZJ1el2gV3DhEgWEdD_59R1Bzq51lsiQVwsZX3Een2lCTU6QMBmIbNNAvC_SkWW184l_k1VVA1wdXP2Oj2zcwPa9VMlOvHn5Dg3coKOZeBltGo3rKsTXpuS/s1600/IMG_0142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNITRMvs6Yjz23DJJ5rEyMgkZJ1el2gV3DhEgWEdD_59R1Bzq51lsiQVwsZX3Een2lCTU6QMBmIbNNAvC_SkWW184l_k1VVA1wdXP2Oj2zcwPa9VMlOvHn5Dg3coKOZeBltGo3rKsTXpuS/s320/IMG_0142.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather got them matching shirts to increase their geek-hood</td></tr>
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Personally, I'm team Alice (*wink*). I think my friend Robert is with me on that one.<br />
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In protest to the teen sensation now turned 20-something-sensation books and movies that are the Twilight series, Lance refused to see the movie and instead went and saw The Muppets.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFhzJjvQrCvUi3AQZ1qgNy4-dA9Ck5kTkBKrOdamCPR-uFIio_6r3sus1D9pk8pwf1r25EVt9HZMeWv1xn89IMnG0VuJYTuhSBxWn5V9xNJyd1NQQs80fKm2nV13tPVIB-Brl3j6wTJ2M/s1600/IMG_0144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFhzJjvQrCvUi3AQZ1qgNy4-dA9Ck5kTkBKrOdamCPR-uFIio_6r3sus1D9pk8pwf1r25EVt9HZMeWv1xn89IMnG0VuJYTuhSBxWn5V9xNJyd1NQQs80fKm2nV13tPVIB-Brl3j6wTJ2M/s320/IMG_0144.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dakota, rooting for the Buckeyes</td></tr>
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One of the evenings they were here, we introduced Audrey and Lance to a knew card game called Dominion. As was expected, they liked it. But I didn't realize just how much they liked it. Because of the nature of Dominion and it's popularity, the creators have put out several expansion sets to the game, increasing the amount of options for differing games. When Audrey and Lance were visiting, we had just the one base/main game. For Christmas, I got one expansion, which is exciting and adds lots of cards to our game.<br />
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Now, before they even left AK, it became apparent that Audrey intended to buy Dominion for herself. Then, I read on her blog that she and Lance were enjoying playing Dominion in the weeks following their visit. Later I read that over Christmas she was sad, because no one wanted to play Dominion as much as she did. Still later, I read something that said a weekend was spent playing a Zelda game Lance got and lots more Dominion.<br />
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In preparation for a family trip in March, I recently sent an email out asking folks to bring a few games. I offered that if my sister can bring her base Dominion game, I can bring my one new expansion, and we could put them together. The response I got was somewhat comical to me and evidentiary of an obsession. She told me not to bother bringing my game, that since Alaska, she has acquired not 1 or 2 or 3, but 4 of the Dominion games and consolidated them all into one large box, which I hear can probably hold 2 more Dominion expansions. I cracked up as I read the email knowing my sister and how she loves to find a good thing and really "get in" to it. Nonetheless, I look forward to lots, AND LOTS, of Dominion during our family trip.<br />
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Their last day in Alaska, we took them to see a few last sights around town. The above picture is from the overlook at the Flat Top mountain hiking trail head. It's hard to tell, but over the cliff you can see the greater Anchorage area and the ocean/Cook Inlet beyond it. (Perhaps you can click on the picture to enlarge.) <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The coldest Lance has ever been</td></tr>
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This one cracked us all up. A description directly from my sister's blog: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Note that we have on hats and gloves and appropriately heavy jackets. However, our legs are only protected by simple pants/jeans. At this moment in time, we are near the top of Flat Top Mountain just outside Anchorage. It is snowing and the wind is blowing fiercely. The temperature is definitely below zero. We stepped out of the truck and headed to an overlook (that’s ocean you can see in the background), and near froze in the three minutes we were outside, despite the heavy coats.</span><br />
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It was so funny, because once we got back into the warm truck, Lance took a moment to reflect saying, "I think that's officially the coldest I've ever been."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Hurry up and take the #*$& picture!"</td></tr>
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What's funny to me is how long I usually like to stand and take in beautiful views and what not. But we literally were only there long enough to snap two pictures and scurry away like warm blooded North Carolinians cowering from the bitter cold.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A good sign when searching for moose</td></tr>
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We hadn't had a close or clear moose sighting yet, and it was their last day, last chance. Luckily, on our way to another lookout point we came across this young adolescent male, most likely freshly out on his own away from mother.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixaL0l8GVoAI5dX7ggVoH__8muzGtLD4A82OIn2IV9g3GrvINjeDLPT7xonyhCJsWSaMwlXtPwbwOTwPVS_IfBiWpRo4ay1p8HEfWaZpZdTMK0TuCuqtYF5VFW17_2M-wHVjJMFSnuqsi8/s1600/IMG_0152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixaL0l8GVoAI5dX7ggVoH__8muzGtLD4A82OIn2IV9g3GrvINjeDLPT7xonyhCJsWSaMwlXtPwbwOTwPVS_IfBiWpRo4ay1p8HEfWaZpZdTMK0TuCuqtYF5VFW17_2M-wHVjJMFSnuqsi8/s320/IMG_0152.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bulwinkle's younger cousin, me thinks</td></tr>
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Not far from our moose friend, we took in this view of downtown from across a little water. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3hXpb-DhMQmjw7hWg1jQ-9Iuhpcx355bhE2tWXX6jA-sBSBWwnB5xviwt7R01w6VNVmOwlAFhq14cjL8y6j6qABfhopofGDhGTSKAv_Zlgd4aV4uYawotLoaEVymbNZXdaIUNxIASxmX/s1600/IMG_0167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3hXpb-DhMQmjw7hWg1jQ-9Iuhpcx355bhE2tWXX6jA-sBSBWwnB5xviwt7R01w6VNVmOwlAFhq14cjL8y6j6qABfhopofGDhGTSKAv_Zlgd4aV4uYawotLoaEVymbNZXdaIUNxIASxmX/s320/IMG_0167.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
That evening was their time to depart. After they packed, we said goodbye, and dropped them at the airport. Audrey and Lance, I'm so glad you got to see Alaska in the winter, covered in snow and majestic. Hopefully, you'll one day get a chance to come during the wonderful summer, and we can show you all kinds of new awesomeness. Thanks for coming, and we miss you already.Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-52184259763680993352012-01-26T01:41:00.001-05:002012-01-26T03:38:05.624-05:00Alaska with Audrey and Lance, part 1 Thanksgiving and Hatcher's PassWell, my sister, Audrey, and Lance came up to visit us over Thanksgiving. I was SOOO excited for her to come to Alaska and to just get to spend time with them.<br />
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(By the way, sorry guys for taking SOOO long to blog on your visit.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ipp8PlbH7uuSrOunBNKmaN8wFqMUpzMsAmng6env6yE7Qxaf8JhZh9F7eibpNxsidzOd_ha1LHK3gr11W4ZX_ZD7s-01NdMsD_Nk1uXkfbQKHnxTLq1IW6bkjde_jsd_h4_ia4tVRIgE/s1600/IMG_0103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ipp8PlbH7uuSrOunBNKmaN8wFqMUpzMsAmng6env6yE7Qxaf8JhZh9F7eibpNxsidzOd_ha1LHK3gr11W4ZX_ZD7s-01NdMsD_Nk1uXkfbQKHnxTLq1IW6bkjde_jsd_h4_ia4tVRIgE/s320/IMG_0103.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One thing I love about these two is, they are "floor people"</td></tr>
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After the ~12 hour trip spread over three flights, they arrived the night before Thanksgiving. The airport pick up area was packed, and the pick up event itself was rather uneventful. We inched along in a traffic huggermugger, Audrey and Lance walked to us, we loaded their luggage and jumped back into the truck trying to fight traffic just to leave the airport. It was cold and snowy out. Lance arrived in Alaska wearing shorts.<br />
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DAY 1: Thanksgiving<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0TeJjwHhR0tZo2YHPCz_02GTFoeShqmkRih40pojjyen5YOD3Jpz2H8EszIIrzUbiSLdzTMKD94nxCrMp8uv0Vp9Onvd1XdMId4EOU0-Md-8RhFfvxFrClAtsv2hmXU874U5i0N0dvMN/s1600/IMG_0033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0TeJjwHhR0tZo2YHPCz_02GTFoeShqmkRih40pojjyen5YOD3Jpz2H8EszIIrzUbiSLdzTMKD94nxCrMp8uv0Vp9Onvd1XdMId4EOU0-Md-8RhFfvxFrClAtsv2hmXU874U5i0N0dvMN/s320/IMG_0033.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At dog park, missing Nugent right about about now</td></tr>
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On Thanksgiving day, Heather had to work the first part of the day, so Lance, Audrey and I took the dogs to our favored dog park. This outing was also a trial run of their cold-outdoor clothing. If I remember right, the temperature this day was somewhere in the low single-digits.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr3dUj9MqZp6RVYGsMRLxtQdh_OFF6cOU1D6X8i6tCAE64-n2UkSX7ADF-inZwH5ZzvXMA70IMZXpUlsS4bhXHO5xf8vLXr8sky0dSEzmaD7xtNoFYtYw2BBLjo95HseJqq7wtTfyapapC/s1600/IMG_0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr3dUj9MqZp6RVYGsMRLxtQdh_OFF6cOU1D6X8i6tCAE64-n2UkSX7ADF-inZwH5ZzvXMA70IMZXpUlsS4bhXHO5xf8vLXr8sky0dSEzmaD7xtNoFYtYw2BBLjo95HseJqq7wtTfyapapC/s320/IMG_0016.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just love this pic Audrey snapped of our two dogs taking off after a stick</td></tr>
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We walked to Conner's Lake, which was completely frozen over, and unless you'd been there before, you probably wouldn't even know it was there. We all walked out over the lake, the dogs romped and Audrey played in the snow flakes!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwbjoEJycBVmCFaX42iMQEu99bDV4YHppcPRXO3H3qZmGUEul-KpfhlsLSOPVK7cegOKXOhNlk_zLVZ8k70umiPT6GzO3hMRtbY71_Qb23n-8zluAoxbHjeVpbmU2Bm5RUIPuoPxbNs0XG/s1600/IMG_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwbjoEJycBVmCFaX42iMQEu99bDV4YHppcPRXO3H3qZmGUEul-KpfhlsLSOPVK7cegOKXOhNlk_zLVZ8k70umiPT6GzO3hMRtbY71_Qb23n-8zluAoxbHjeVpbmU2Bm5RUIPuoPxbNs0XG/s320/IMG_0025.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sister and her snowy flakes!</td></tr>
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T'was this day, we had our first moose sighting. It wasn't a great sighting as we couldn't really make him out, but you can definitely tell he's there. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQbdOoD6sw59ZKfPpDxHVaNmO8jjaWOpdrJYRSNeyMmiqX5kqbOBM34xKVDgZVWpCCoMUYvLO3R79AkydgthZU8DJ6HddWhiw2QvWNtRKSYPbrEOdsEEYlhmW2AS5OmT9igEpVw6jCxqM/s1600/IMG_0020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQbdOoD6sw59ZKfPpDxHVaNmO8jjaWOpdrJYRSNeyMmiqX5kqbOBM34xKVDgZVWpCCoMUYvLO3R79AkydgthZU8DJ6HddWhiw2QvWNtRKSYPbrEOdsEEYlhmW2AS5OmT9igEpVw6jCxqM/s320/IMG_0020.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They don't hide very well in this environment, just look like big dark brown spots</td></tr>
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After the dog park, we came home, cooked a bunch of food, Heather got off work and we enjoyed a super Thanksgiving feast along with a few of our friends whom we had invited. Good times were had by all.<br />
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DAY 2: Hatcher's Pass<br />
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The next day, Black Friday, we got up early and geared up to go snowshoe hiking in Hatcher's Pass. It's about a 1.5 hour drive to this popular hiking location north of Palmer, AK. Almost there, we had a second yet dodgy moose sighting. It was snowing hard and the light was very flat. It was tough to see him, but the camera shows he was there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2n2zYp7uY4lmgUItD_rVvpNMMLlWXhxyDn8l5XfnrPky48HOUdBtv2hZyEEvdSJ1gQRaU9Vbgbn7DQxflwWACPUXiu1MNPoc3MPQa8vNNVtF8S7iViOIQRPvFb_c-nyjpwOr5_9tYJ4FX/s1600/IMG_0042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2n2zYp7uY4lmgUItD_rVvpNMMLlWXhxyDn8l5XfnrPky48HOUdBtv2hZyEEvdSJ1gQRaU9Vbgbn7DQxflwWACPUXiu1MNPoc3MPQa8vNNVtF8S7iViOIQRPvFb_c-nyjpwOr5_9tYJ4FX/s320/IMG_0042.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bulwinkle, up the hill from the road</td></tr>
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We rented and borrowed 4 sets of snowshoes and polls to trudge around in for the day. Hatcher's Pass is a vast area in the Chugach Mountains with peaks nearly 360 degrees to hike and lots of places to explore. For us, it was completely covered in snow. The surrounding mountains were hidden and the light was so flat we could barely decipher, at times, the terrain in front of us.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmv3lMLOjxnRNIKkeS8spJBwTnqsQbosmezw-OYB-fL-wjYZRHCpMqQ7EvMPk1SOoIjY7nMWjIN8wgVbAQ79_1iB5SShIxlY3eViP-YUbCEM6AvHuZMXhp2G6pP6q-aKxS5xcom7hie8gM/s1600/IMG_0048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmv3lMLOjxnRNIKkeS8spJBwTnqsQbosmezw-OYB-fL-wjYZRHCpMqQ7EvMPk1SOoIjY7nMWjIN8wgVbAQ79_1iB5SShIxlY3eViP-YUbCEM6AvHuZMXhp2G6pP6q-aKxS5xcom7hie8gM/s320/IMG_0048.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An old mining town in Hatcher's Pass</td></tr>
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We were so worried about being cold this day we came prepared: lots of snow gear, hand and toe warmers, extra hats and layers stuffed in a book bag, and double socks on our feet. Our formerly Alaskan uncle who's a bit extreme when it comes to 'preparedness' would be proud.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK0-_KkpukG_L98Cirk4Wy5Dij8ZkeSfrRigX_3teSFgd1slWbj7qsxqstIRi4sL-Og0zfOdjqW7AiwKxcHn9VLbiW5BjeWcu6Tc_hGW-CE55AkBqTH8E2yeBymbg47-6XQ4mr6XY7ffd5/s1600/IMG_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK0-_KkpukG_L98Cirk4Wy5Dij8ZkeSfrRigX_3teSFgd1slWbj7qsxqstIRi4sL-Og0zfOdjqW7AiwKxcHn9VLbiW5BjeWcu6Tc_hGW-CE55AkBqTH8E2yeBymbg47-6XQ4mr6XY7ffd5/s320/IMG_0043.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather was worried about avalanches all day</td></tr>
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After all our preparations for cold weather and keeping warm, turns out hiking in snowshoes is hard work. About 10 minutes into the trekking, we stopped and all started shedding layers. I was sweating like nobody's business within the first 30 minutes, after going it alone up a steep embankment.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBmSsvDddI3hviLPrNMRuHQ43oyKefHTHMgnSSqPKAMKcIsXKgnlGP2r_zO4WGwBdrvGVrX6dHgbYeXY34NerplrsaPYh5MRj5JzPnHQtJko-0P9F-vSDp6twMa-DqyhrlNDFzqc1ntJJ6/s1600/IMG_0079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBmSsvDddI3hviLPrNMRuHQ43oyKefHTHMgnSSqPKAMKcIsXKgnlGP2r_zO4WGwBdrvGVrX6dHgbYeXY34NerplrsaPYh5MRj5JzPnHQtJko-0P9F-vSDp6twMa-DqyhrlNDFzqc1ntJJ6/s320/IMG_0079.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See, on a clear day there'd be all manner of beautiful-ness behind them, but not this day</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4A82jk-vG982_CQIBYm1WRlvef9O4x9HLqatDIsY6PA7Wkkhm4VS6fxCGTrZE9B-wqSr6-dRLzMzlyD-lZUpw9E6YbF6mqO0EAssqsUPSQvQ3MUUfElx5u9LbRvdANgZdNV1CvRP_aBLB/s1600/IMG_0051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4A82jk-vG982_CQIBYm1WRlvef9O4x9HLqatDIsY6PA7Wkkhm4VS6fxCGTrZE9B-wqSr6-dRLzMzlyD-lZUpw9E6YbF6mqO0EAssqsUPSQvQ3MUUfElx5u9LbRvdANgZdNV1CvRP_aBLB/s320/IMG_0051.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A look-down at our get-up</td></tr>
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We hiked around the mining town for a few hours and then took a trip down the board walk to the mouth of the mine.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4S2JfHOyUbdgvPdeGHxqosQSiO-qWjDt6Z66A9UR0ehp_GTdwvMibYiW4svnwLSpJlhjWskvnyV6QUPeMo8Z1swWo48vlMSY_NNqWH2YYScNU7wa0FX00sjKRAG-gIlhXefBJxhNk5jTK/s1600/IMG_0059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4S2JfHOyUbdgvPdeGHxqosQSiO-qWjDt6Z66A9UR0ehp_GTdwvMibYiW4svnwLSpJlhjWskvnyV6QUPeMo8Z1swWo48vlMSY_NNqWH2YYScNU7wa0FX00sjKRAG-gIlhXefBJxhNk5jTK/s320/IMG_0059.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the mouth of the mine, Audrey being silly, me sitting on railing</td></tr>
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There were several feet of snow on the ground. It was fun just to fall into it, and it caught you perfectly and gently like an expensive memory foam mattress or something.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoF-JSklSC7KJyY_GhvCd1YfXle47gf4fQDP3mSdvOkngI0B4zUkld1T6eHLzCZHEqeJ4eQ4zsq5ENGoVo0RogVEIAkNNOaFgeH4dyP-i5zq0ZlKCKSt6WOQSGToq0rU6yljEo__xhFAj_/s1600/IMG_0068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoF-JSklSC7KJyY_GhvCd1YfXle47gf4fQDP3mSdvOkngI0B4zUkld1T6eHLzCZHEqeJ4eQ4zsq5ENGoVo0RogVEIAkNNOaFgeH4dyP-i5zq0ZlKCKSt6WOQSGToq0rU6yljEo__xhFAj_/s320/IMG_0068.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather decided to beat me whilst I lay on my expensive snowy mattress</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OhzWuk2lj0ZcuM6J3z8iiw9S-RzuwaeQkMgEVEVNjEz-JWKWQ47n1mEpCL8k-ZIthxr6abiebKkjEEDsXTfDTKcQJUZauIY_mFfEtQWRgI1Z8FXAtzMGFDOlsJa3aQhQM81X7Gumcsrl/s1600/IMG_0076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OhzWuk2lj0ZcuM6J3z8iiw9S-RzuwaeQkMgEVEVNjEz-JWKWQ47n1mEpCL8k-ZIthxr6abiebKkjEEDsXTfDTKcQJUZauIY_mFfEtQWRgI1Z8FXAtzMGFDOlsJa3aQhQM81X7Gumcsrl/s320/IMG_0076.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just love capturing this side of my sister on camera<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiWUEPRayOgyhA5GE_2JL3TVB9MGB6h4Yoc4Mw0FpYQznQeqoefyGI5N3EhpJVQ1Jfnr0X0B2xSvKGVuBj9zIcHhm3HJZm_uWRMq5fytxiCv_yKt5XPwzbhGbTwbkERS4iGvVurayQ5pyW/s1600/IMG_0061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiWUEPRayOgyhA5GE_2JL3TVB9MGB6h4Yoc4Mw0FpYQznQeqoefyGI5N3EhpJVQ1Jfnr0X0B2xSvKGVuBj9zIcHhm3HJZm_uWRMq5fytxiCv_yKt5XPwzbhGbTwbkERS4iGvVurayQ5pyW/s320/IMG_0061.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Were it summer time, that railing he's leaning on would be as high as his shoulders</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7PGO5BJzxNautFk3pG_eYQ6C5olLeXmT9s7ygj9oqyboc2HFy36T5sfCyzEv6PP8Piyqyt0FlOxvfCltJb99UJViP2MDOoyiP9kglMAPP6pBVwzz624yAfWmEoJ-UO1Yg0B0UZjjPjkkX/s1600/IMG_0075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7PGO5BJzxNautFk3pG_eYQ6C5olLeXmT9s7ygj9oqyboc2HFy36T5sfCyzEv6PP8Piyqyt0FlOxvfCltJb99UJViP2MDOoyiP9kglMAPP6pBVwzz624yAfWmEoJ-UO1Yg0B0UZjjPjkkX/s320/IMG_0075.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another sighting of She-Heather! Watch Out!!</td></tr>
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I think, by the end, we hiked about 3 hours. That was enough, because we were definitely tired afterwards. What cracked me up, was the surge of energy that overcame Lance come time to head to the car. The whole day, he took up the caboose, following the other three of us quietly. But once we pointed toward the car - zoom - off he went. The picture below is Lance, at this point way ahead with his sights set on warmth and a place to sit. He eventually got so far ahead he was out of sight. Unfortunately, he didn't have the keys, so once at the car he had to wait a good 10 minutes before we caught up. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think Lance is what you would call..."indoorsy"</td></tr>
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After having some hot chocolate at a little restaurant thing and almost getting the truck badly stuck in the deep snow on what is probably the worst and stupidest road in the world...we started back home. Finally, then, it began to clear up a bit, and you can start to get an idea for the kind of place we spent our day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1m72QMLMoi9peNPOMdWyOUSGDBQ6WX9s-Tuhv_kEBPwqdvv29g9dRlWhQa-r8op6kMAirvNpjNf4toJw3VA0ano5Z-fwLFzb1NTJgR1SOzTUrMcEIB05t_N3VS8bB6bsig9EmH9igsk7-/s1600/IMG_0100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1m72QMLMoi9peNPOMdWyOUSGDBQ6WX9s-Tuhv_kEBPwqdvv29g9dRlWhQa-r8op6kMAirvNpjNf4toJw3VA0ano5Z-fwLFzb1NTJgR1SOzTUrMcEIB05t_N3VS8bB6bsig9EmH9igsk7-/s320/IMG_0100.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love the colors the sunset created</td></tr>
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That evening we enjoyed Thanksgiving food again and got some needed rest.<br />
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To see what Hatcher's Pass looks like during the summer, <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/07/hiking-and-biking-with-john-and-joy.html">click here. </a> Also, here's a picture of the mouth of the same mine we visited but during the summer. Gives some perspective on how much snow was under our feet.<br />
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Up next in part 2: More moose viewing, the creation on a Dominion obsession and the coldest Lance has ever been!!Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-71928522263707789502012-01-12T19:45:00.000-05:002012-04-04T16:37:49.451-04:00A way to goFor two weeks now, I have been the new Bereavement Services Coordinator for a hospice organization in Alaska. So far, it's going well. I had the privilege to have worked here this past summer while I was a resident. During that time, I served as the interim chaplain of sorts while they transitioned from one chaplain to another. <br />
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My job is to see to the bereavement (grief) needs of family and friends after our patients die. These services have many different forms; however, part of my job is spending time with and counseling those who are experiencing particularly complicated or at risk grief, and during these times I get to function basically as a chaplain (which i'm trained for). <br />
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The office is a good place to work. The organization is growing steadily, which means there's plenty of work to be done by all, includinga a 4-month back log in bereavement work that hasn't been done! (Job security for me, I guess.) <br />
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Recently, one of our patients died (I know, big surprise for a hospice organization), and the nurse thought the patient's wife needed a bit of extra support. So, I went to the house to spend some time and walk with her through, at least, her first bit of time grieving. But this blog is not about that time. It's about how he died. <br />
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I've been to a few different seminars or whatnot on death and dying. And to get into the perspective of a grieving person, presenters often have participants do certain exercises which engage our sense of loss. One exercise was to draw a picture of how we want to die. For the majority of people, the answer is similar. We want to die at home, in our bed, with our loved ones around us and without pain/suffering. (Consider trying this exercise yourself. Just answer the question: When you die, who, what, when, where and why?)<br />
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The night before this patient died, his elderly wife was trying to stay up to take care of everything, the busybody she is. But her husband, now bed bound, insisted she come to bed, because he sleeps better with her nearby. "He made sure to give me a hug, and he kissed me saying, 'Good night sweetheat,' like he always does," the wife told me through her shiny and watery eyes. He went to sleep and died during the night.<br />
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But his wife didn't realize. She got up and went about her morning routine, assuming her husband was sleeping in. Even their live-in care giver, when she peaked her head into the darkened room, thought the patient was sleeping peacefully. It wasn't until the nurse showed up to do her routine care that his death was discovered. The nurse said as soon as she turned on the light she knew from his coloring he'd been gone for several hours. <br />
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But, what a way to go? In bed next to his beloved <em>sweetheart</em> this man transitioned from this life to be with God the way most people want to do it--in bed, loved ones near, without pain, at home. Talk about a way to go. <br />
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I'm glad to be a part of an organization that helps provide people with a peaceful and dignified death. I've been present for numerous tragic, heart-wrenching and just plain ol' not-peaceful deaths in the ER that involve chest compressions loud noise, anxiety and pain without the presence of loved ones. It's nice to see the other side of the spectrum.Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-51133945983556079112011-11-29T14:16:00.001-05:002011-11-29T15:07:11.375-05:00Naked Spirituality, by Brian McLarenAnyone who has done any reading on the Christian spiritual disciplines has probably read the book by Richard Foster titled <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Celebration-Discipline-Path-Spiritual-Growth/dp/0060628391">Celebration of Discipline.</a></i> For some three decades this has been the modern authority on good writing about and practice of Christian spiritual disciplines. Foster's book presents 12 practices one might consider in one's pursuit of God, purpose, meaningful faith, a deeper sense of the spiritual, stuff like that. It was the first book assigned us in seminary. I've read it, and have always thought very highly of it.<br />
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Brian McLaren's newest book <i>Naked Spirituality: A life with God in 12 simple words, </i>is another book in the same vein as Foster's. McLaren typically writes mostly about theology, culture and how bad theology is influencing Christian culture. In a recent book <i><a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2010/12/new-kind-of-christianity-by-brian.html">A New Kind of Christianity</a></i> he proposes just that, a new Christianity that is devoid of most of what he considers to be bad theology out there today. Because of this, McLaren receives, I can only imagine, a <i>lot</i> of criticism from Christians, especially from the conservative right, who like things just the way they are and are uncomfortable with any sort of theological change.<br />
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My guess is, McLaren wanted to demonstrate with this book that he, like his critics is also a spiritual person in pursuit of God, like the rest. His liberal theology is very tame in this book as he points readers rather toward their own spiritual path and offers encouragement for the journey.<br />
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Following in Richard Foster's example, McLaren offers 12 simple words, which represent 12 different spiritual practices that correspond to, and fit into, what he has identified as four seasons of the faith journey. The template looks something like this:<br />
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<b>Simplicity</b>: The Spring-like season of spiritual awakening<br />
Words:<br />
<i>Here: </i>The practice of invocation and presentation, awakening to the presence of God<br />
<i>Thanks: </i>The practice of gratitude and appreciation, awakening to the goodness of God<br />
<i>O (like "Oh"): P</i>ractice of of worship and awe, awakening to the beauty and joy of God<br />
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<b>Complexity</b>: The Summer-like season of spiritual strengthening<br />
<i>Sorry:</i> Practice of self-examination and confession, strengthening through failure<br />
<i>Help:</i> Practice of expansion and petition, strengthening through weakness<br />
<i>Please:</i> Practice of compassion and intercession, strengthening through empathy<br />
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<b>Perplexity:</b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>The Autumn-like season of spiritual surviving<br />
<i>When:</i> Practice of aspiration, exasperation and desperation, surviving through delay<br />
<i>No:</i> Practice of rage and refusal, surviving through disillusionment<br />
<i>Why: </i>Practice of lament and agony, surviving through abandonment<br />
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<b>Harmony:</b> The Winter-like season of spiritual deepening<br />
<i>Behold:</i><b style="font-style: italic;"> </b>Practice of meditation and wonder, deepening by seeing<br />
<i>Yes:</i> Practice of consecration and surrender, deepening by joining<br />
<i>[. . . ]:</i> Practice of contemplation and rest, deepening by being with (p. 26-27)<br />
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McLaren's approach or template of the spiritual life-cycle is similar to Foster's famous proposals in that each have 12 practices that one pursues to become more 'whole-y.' However, Foster's disciplines are more prescription-like: do this practice and you will grow. McLaren's approach is markedly different, and I'd argue more accessible, in that he clearly states that these disciplines are to be practiced or emphasized along with one's place in one's own spiritual cycle. If I'm in the season of simplicity, I may not be focused on the spiritual practice of lament and agony found in the season of perplexity.<br />
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McLaren is clear that this template is not a mountain to climb, that once you reach the season of Harmony you've reached the top of the mountain or highest rung on a ladder. Rather, this is a cycle, much like the seasons it parallels, that repeats time and time again within one's spiritual journey.<br />
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The author bears his own experiences in the book illustrating for instance that he has numerous times lived through the cycle. And I find myself agreeing with this approach. As I read through each season, I found myself saying that yes I've been there before. I resonated with most of the book, and especially with the notion that though I have been through each of these "spiritual seasons," I am still in process and will continue to go through them again.<br />
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I enjoyed the book, I'm proud of finishing another book, and I felt happily refreshed by it. McLaren is a gifted communicator who is able to write simply, presenting complicated ideas in accessible ways. If you are in a season of reading, perhaps you will pick this one up and consider it.Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-29727479390353863432011-11-29T13:39:00.001-05:002011-11-29T14:14:37.677-05:00Dog Lovers Beware<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isn't she adorable!</td></tr>
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I thought I'd share my broken heart with you. But if you love dogs and have a tender heart, you might want to steer clear of this little story (which means Hannah and Yaar E should have no problem with it).<br />
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As a college graduation gift for my sister in-law (SIL), Heather and I have been planning to get her a puppy. This has been no secret. A min-pin (mini pincher) was the dog of choice, and it was decided that Christmas was the appropriate time that my SIL was ready for a dog.<br />
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A month ago I contacted a NC breeder of Minpins outside of Raleigh and reserved a puppy in a litter that, at the time, had not even been born. After the birth, the breeder sent me this picture of the little angel. I passed it along to my SIL, and the picture was shown around to friends and family both here and in Raleigh as many soon-to-be parents show off sonograms. In dog loving families, a new dog is almost as significant as a new baby.<br />
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Anyway, on to the sadness...<br />
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About two weeks ago, I got a phone call from the breeder, late one night, who said she had some "bad news." My defenses went up. Had she sold it to someone else? Had the puppy gotten sick? I waited for her to continue. And then, I recognized a "tone" of voice that I've grown all too familiar with as a chaplain talking with grieving people. Her voice choked a little, became a bit scratchy and her pace of speech slowed. Like a doctor delivering bad news to a family, the words came out like heavy stones thrown from her heart.<br />
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She has a nursery structure on her property in which most of her dogs (mommies, puppies, studs) live. The previous night, the heater for this facility went on the fritz. The thermostat malfunctioned and the heater pumped out as much heat as it could for hours on end until the next morning. The breeder awoke the next morning and walked as usual to her nursery to find it heated to 120 degrees, and 24 dogs laying lifeless in their beds. This 24 included the little girl in the above picture.<br />
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The stronger dogs that survived were drenched with sweat, and she said one of them was even coughing like a person who inhaled smoke into the lungs. She was devastated. I was shocked. Her two young children didn't understand and had cried most the day until their tears ducts were depleted. What had for years been her little oasis of dog and puppy tail-wagging life each day had been transformed over night into a mass K-9 grave.<br />
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I went into chaplain mode, and spoke with her for more than half and hour, doing my best to listen and console as she bore her heart to me, a stranger whose face she's never seen. She'd spent most of the day, burying dogs and nursing the survivors back to health. The rest of the time she spent making phone calls to customers like me to deliver the bad news. As the last piece on her pile of grief, she'd lost thousands of dollars in her business.<br />
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Yet, instead of throwing in the towel, refunding deposits and giving up all together, she expressed her strong desire to do right by me. She had a friend and fellow breeder of Minpins whom she'd contacted. The friend agreed to sell her a female puppy so she could honor her agreement with us. I was grateful, but mostly saddened on her behalf.<br />
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We still have a new puppy soon entering the family; however, this sad story is now attached to the joy that the dog will bring. My hope is that the traumatic event (and this post's telling of it) will not sully my SIL's joy of a new dog.<br />
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Our hearts go out to this breeder. So if you have a little extra, send some light and lover her way. If you're a praying person, whisper and utterance of compassion on her behalf.<br />
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Sorry for the sad story. My brother is probably crying by now reading this. I once heard someone say something like this, "Suffering bared alone is multiplied, but suffering shared is divided." (Lance hopefully, these are emotions working for the <i>good</i>.) I find there's healing in sharing our sadness and bearing our hearts to one another.<br />
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Until next time, shalom.Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-32677055976017916102011-11-23T17:47:00.001-05:002011-11-24T16:14:08.038-05:00Pups + Snow = FUN<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Our dogs love the snow! More specifically, Lola loves running and playing it it. She dashes, leaps and then disappears as a cloud of white snowy mist arises from where ever she landed or turned. When she emerges from said cloud she is as happy as dog-ly possibly. In contrast (those of you who know Dakota best will understand this) Dakota loves to eat the snow. </div>
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Total accumulation, we probably received a little over two feet of snow so far in my part of Anchorage. </div>
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Dakota and Lola, of course, are NC dogs and not really made for this kind of cold weather. Hence, when we go to the dog park for long periods of play, they have to wear doggy vests and little booties over their feet. </div>
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Now, when ever we get out their vests, they get so excited. </div>
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In the snow, there's no need for a tennis ball. Snow balls make perfect fetch apparatuses (apparati?). Well, sort of, they can't exactly bring them back. But, at least they get to go and run. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwf2R-7UM89y8KjqmpEliNHrN7_YZRIffFLlVqgf8nQfsD8R1urKW2rYnNFt3FvjBlRLhr7YAZpr7bm8fGSBVLricSMIdGiUopOVnWjjckrQvlUHPBvNxS6AWO3TfypMtWDF4YA_4g05N/s1600/1101111120a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwf2R-7UM89y8KjqmpEliNHrN7_YZRIffFLlVqgf8nQfsD8R1urKW2rYnNFt3FvjBlRLhr7YAZpr7bm8fGSBVLricSMIdGiUopOVnWjjckrQvlUHPBvNxS6AWO3TfypMtWDF4YA_4g05N/s320/1101111120a.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to pounce!</td></tr>
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We regularly go to the dog park with our friend Janalle and her husky-lab mix, Dannie-girl. Around our house, whenever we say Dannie's name, our two muts get really excited.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSMNCwZheD5Uj8UmppNR0bUBp63SgBQ1WbIRiiysOYUkyn1Q1Z11hystW3Ym6vEwJzrpRi-NL5k1s6KXEMIRtXJyhpUU0L_tTN2ddkPQPg_GBt3cUfYTac4p-wdLx-tL-BmTaLBky8qkff/s1600/1107111637a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSMNCwZheD5Uj8UmppNR0bUBp63SgBQ1WbIRiiysOYUkyn1Q1Z11hystW3Ym6vEwJzrpRi-NL5k1s6KXEMIRtXJyhpUU0L_tTN2ddkPQPg_GBt3cUfYTac4p-wdLx-tL-BmTaLBky8qkff/s320/1107111637a.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At dog park, w/ friend Janelle and Dannie-girl</td></tr>
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Other words that instantly excite Dakota and Lola are, "play," "outside," "go," "hungry" (and Hungary), "Anna" (Heather's mom), and daddy saying to them in puppy voice, "Your momma's home!"<br />
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Of course, the most motivating sound, the one that get's them up the quickest, the mover of those muts, the thing that has them scurrying through the house as fast as you'll see them move is....the sound of food dropping to the floor when cooking. </div>
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(Similarly, the single sound that gets me moving the quickest is... the sound of dry-heaving pre-upchuck that Dakota makes at 3am in the morning on a work night.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGa3B-XxC_yGPbxUZV7yYHhWLbbT7xvEzmQqkWqrp0aINbrTUip2BqrtPqBNczZXTClk01TN7842ykpBV6NeR9GRiQYkoZgadNWYeMK33gxubHJCQtQx3uuTyxzfN7P3T2BwZX_uzu0kdZ/s1600/jpeg_reencoded-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGa3B-XxC_yGPbxUZV7yYHhWLbbT7xvEzmQqkWqrp0aINbrTUip2BqrtPqBNczZXTClk01TN7842ykpBV6NeR9GRiQYkoZgadNWYeMK33gxubHJCQtQx3uuTyxzfN7P3T2BwZX_uzu0kdZ/s320/jpeg_reencoded-1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather, Janelle, Lola and a little spit of Dannie on the right</td></tr>
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Hope you enjoyed the pictures. </div>Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-35902968731708288332011-11-19T16:19:00.001-05:002011-11-20T01:30:28.465-05:00A month of 1s<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrRxCWItZMrpVFN_XOUpa4VyocDVeVNTF8Ebusx77FWcCSPUZm6-kpOfwGMkG_FgfYBMeQPwSYQVoKqlu6u5r_hqzEHE_97YVLOgWM5BO9DdL_x7WnAXWcYCRMkQJ9m9p3g40Qab5sGKwk/s1600/Photo+on+2011-11-12+at+16.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrRxCWItZMrpVFN_XOUpa4VyocDVeVNTF8Ebusx77FWcCSPUZm6-kpOfwGMkG_FgfYBMeQPwSYQVoKqlu6u5r_hqzEHE_97YVLOgWM5BO9DdL_x7WnAXWcYCRMkQJ9m9p3g40Qab5sGKwk/s320/Photo+on+2011-11-12+at+16.34.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first picture is without any distortions, but not the rest</td></tr>
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November marks an entire year <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2010/11/life-in-alaska.html" target="_blank">we've lived in Alaska</a>. Heather started her job last year 11/1 and about a week later we moved into our apartment, (about 11 days later did our <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2010/12/moving-saga.html" target="_blank">furniture</a> show up). And it's been, I have to say, a pretty amazing year.<br />
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We <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/01/alyeska.html" target="_blank">skied</a> more last season than ever before. Heather took several lessons which improved her skills on the slopes considerably. I can't wait to see how she continues to improve this season.<br />
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We've seen and driven in more snow than ever in the last year. The snow showed up early November last year and didn't completely melt around town until sometime in April, I believe. It didn't disappear from atop the mountains until July.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0e0Wf9lQoecUogd1zAZdL3uiXX0baDe00yutMxKpPpfQRDhD4PqzeeBNiPhRyMvV-j3toenaujZc3u3Ite4Q2F1GFLVvDC67YPPQw60-Z3UI9ATuuZEVAlWB87Ip3U9OAOOdBpGDcOCAv/s1600/Photo+on+2011-11-12+at+16.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0e0Wf9lQoecUogd1zAZdL3uiXX0baDe00yutMxKpPpfQRDhD4PqzeeBNiPhRyMvV-j3toenaujZc3u3Ite4Q2F1GFLVvDC67YPPQw60-Z3UI9ATuuZEVAlWB87Ip3U9OAOOdBpGDcOCAv/s320/Photo+on+2011-11-12+at+16.35.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talk about a tight pucker</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifXV6Wo88UaWiGNC0xTPjk5UJ0ZSmpbQyQLFcgrJQAYBqMhMvejSonINsRFFmVKnjpYF3qgclBzJpc2FCCy-aIHO95I1rcEZgLEhyHIL2LRTqADSTyuaThM5en8Rxrgq8t5wQNJp1V9TCe/s1600/Photo+on+2011-11-12+at+16.40+%25232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifXV6Wo88UaWiGNC0xTPjk5UJ0ZSmpbQyQLFcgrJQAYBqMhMvejSonINsRFFmVKnjpYF3qgclBzJpc2FCCy-aIHO95I1rcEZgLEhyHIL2LRTqADSTyuaThM5en8Rxrgq8t5wQNJp1V9TCe/s320/Photo+on+2011-11-12+at+16.40+%25232.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to get some corn out of my teeth</td></tr>
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We've gone and done so many new things in the last 12 months. From several <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/06/anniversary-weekend-day-2-kenai-fjords.html" target="_blank">boat trips</a> to view <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/06/anniversary-weekend-day-1-exit-glacier.html" target="_blank">glaciers</a> and Ak <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/06/anniversary-weekend-day-3-sea-life.html" target="_blank">wildlife</a> in Seward, we biked to a glacier, I hiked up to the <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/07/alaska-with-momma-t-part-1-train-hiking.html" target="_blank">Harding Ice Field</a> (a vast expanse of ice sitting atop numerous mountains some 700 square miles in area), I hiked up Flat Top for a beautiful overlook of Anchorage, we spent a day catching <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/10/halibut-fishing-in-homer.html" target="_blank">halibut from Homer</a>, we spent a day catching nothing in Soldotna, we took in gorgeous views of <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/08/alaska-with-robert-anna-part-1-denali.html" target="_blank">Mt. Mckinley</a> and an assortment of wildlife, we biked all over town all summer, we tried out <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/02/birthday.html" target="_blank">cross-country skiing</a>, we watched sled dog mushers and the Iditarod, we saw enormous <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/01/ice.html" target="_blank">ice</a> and snow sculptures, and we discovered that the Turnagain Arm is the most beautiful drive in the world.<br />
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We discovered that Lola loves the snow! I mean LOVES it! We discovered that Dakota loves eating snow...LOVES it! I surprised Heather with pretty new dog booties. Dakota <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2010/11/surprise.html" target="_blank">surprised</a> Heather by throwing up in the truck. <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-am-missing-leg.html" target="_blank">Lola</a> got bit at the park and we paid for minor K9 surgery. The pups discovered what a moose is. They made a new friend-dog named Dannie-girl.<br />
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We made a few new friends in people that we've worked with (most notably, Janelle who is Dannie's momma).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGINCUu-mSoWiHrWo8HXxBxiPKtyIiGKTlvK2PaN3Z5Hu2NWSrhHio16sQYUOAO3N1s-wXlZg9yF8bUhxdD6z8P8IxoiU-TRNjB6GRoP4bLkIPh1RAclQRlJC072ii8t3Mmgx9a6mysPsG/s1600/Photo+on+2011-11-15+at+20.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGINCUu-mSoWiHrWo8HXxBxiPKtyIiGKTlvK2PaN3Z5Hu2NWSrhHio16sQYUOAO3N1s-wXlZg9yF8bUhxdD6z8P8IxoiU-TRNjB6GRoP4bLkIPh1RAclQRlJC072ii8t3Mmgx9a6mysPsG/s320/Photo+on+2011-11-15+at+20.35.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lola, helping me with the corn thing</td></tr>
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Also during this year, Heather became <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2010/12/500.html" target="_blank">licensed</a> in her second state and has worked for a year now. I took on and completed a second <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/01/differences.html" target="_blank">CPE residency</a> as a hospital chaplain, which increased my experience, padded my resume and really firmed up my professional identity as a chaplain. After the first residency, I ended it feeling like a minister/pastor with chaplain training; but after the second residency, I really feel like a trained chaplain.<br />
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I officiated <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/05/holey-matrimony.html" target="_blank">my first wedding</a>. (Turns out they're easy!)<br />
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We paid cash for two cars. (<a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/08/like-good-neighbor.html" target="_blank">Here's</a> one of them.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi4o31bHXV7RUqsSmBYBMU0S83KHCABn67Noxx6rLG3HWjG_6UGgc68wgouGOodRkGHEhzV5XNBoOGUc7nCRyhWvbXgi6OOStHeaVGN4hBenfZH1_ztIDjAYftVwrsbCzeDZv5NkimqhGH/s1600/Photo+on+2011-11-12+at+16.41+%25233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi4o31bHXV7RUqsSmBYBMU0S83KHCABn67Noxx6rLG3HWjG_6UGgc68wgouGOodRkGHEhzV5XNBoOGUc7nCRyhWvbXgi6OOStHeaVGN4hBenfZH1_ztIDjAYftVwrsbCzeDZv5NkimqhGH/s320/Photo+on+2011-11-12+at+16.41+%25233.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh on, turning into alien form...</td></tr>
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We were visited by my parents and went skiing together. (Dad had a glorious wipe out and left his phone at the resort twice!) We were visited by <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/07/alaska-with-momma-t-part-2-glacier-and.html" target="_blank">Heather's mom</a> and went to Seward. (Heather always feels better with her momma.) We were visited by <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/09/alaska-with-robert-anna-part-2.html" target="_blank">Anna and Robert-o</a> with whom we went to see Denali. (We almost killed Anna with an allergic reaction, and Robert almost killed Nathan for testing his fear of heights.) In a few days we'll be visited by my sister and her bo and have plans to go snow-shoe hiking. (We shall be braving the bitter cold as the high today was 2 degrees and where we're hiking it will be much colder.)<br />
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I said goodbye to my <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/05/bailey.html" target="_blank">great grandmother</a>. </div>
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We said goodbye to a friend and marine who was killed in Afghanistan. </div>
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We adopted a girl named <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/08/indah.html" target="_blank">Indah</a> from Indonesia through Compassion International.<br />
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We vacationed very near that child when we ventured to <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/10/visiting-hannah-and-greg-part-1.html" target="_blank">Singapore</a> and <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/10/visiting-hannah-and-greg-part-2-bali.html" target="_blank">Bali</a> with <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/10/visiting-hannah-and-greg-part-3-bali.html" target="_blank">Hannah</a> and <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/11/visiting-hannah-and-greg-part-4-back-to.html" target="_blank">Greg</a>, marking our first independent international travel together, but surely not the last (because I want some more Mi Goreng and that skewared chicked with the peanut sauce; Hannah what's that called again?).<br />
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We gazed awe struck out of an airplane window as aurora borealis danced for us.<br />
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We celebrated out 5 year marriage <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2011/06/anniversary-weekend-day-1-exit-glacier.html" target="_blank">anniversary</a>. And the other set of 1s that this month marks is the 11 year anniversary from when Heather and I <a href="http://nathansword.blogspot.com/2009/11/happy-9th-birthday.html" target="_blank">became a couple</a> (Nov. 18th).<br />
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All in all, we've had a blast. I'm hoping the pictures convey this as well. My friend Robert would start crying and looking for a job up here if I said we planned on staying another 10 years, or even 5 years. Both our families would probably disown us if we said we were going to have kids and raise them up here so far away. (Actually, both the moms would probably take off work and come up for a month.) But I can't say any of these are the long-term plan. In fact, for those of you wondering, there is no plan. We're here, we're loving life, and that works for now.<br />
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So, thanks 11/2011 for being a month of 1s. Our 1st year in AK. Our 11 year dating-versary. I potentially land my 1st long-term big job (more on that later). Here's to another year, just as great!Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-50706544888391055352011-11-09T17:40:00.000-05:002011-11-19T21:53:46.783-05:00De-ligionHave you ever heard someone say that she is "spiritual but not religious"?<br />
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Personally, I don't think I have. BUT, I've heard (and read) lots of other people talking about how many people out there ascribe to this stance on the sacred--spiritual but not religious. And I have no problem agreeing that there's probably a lot of people who would say this about themselves. Heck, there's been times when I would've said it about me. </div>
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There's a short moment in the movie <i>This Christmas</i> where a man is talking to a deacon of the local church, and says he doesn't really <i>do</i> church. The conversation continues: </div>
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Deacon: Church ain't something you <i>do</i>. It's a place you go to commune with God in God's house. </div>
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Man: I don't believe in God. Not in a traditional sense. </div>
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Deacon: Not in a traditional sense...?</div>
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Man: I mean. I'm a spiritual person. You know, I believe in a higher source. </div>
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Deacon: But you don't believe in God. </div>
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Man: I don't believe in your god. </div>
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This is one of Hollywood's presentations of the "spiritual but not religious" position. </div>
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I was looking up the etymology of the word "religion," and I was delighted and surprised at what I found. One of the possible sources of the word (there are a few different possibilities) suggests that the root word of religion is "lig," as in ligament, meaning to connect or bind. The prefix "re-" means again. Used in the arena of those seeking the "higher source" the inference becomes obvious. The initial meaning of the word religion was to re-connect or to bind-again humans to God and to one another. Religions becomes then a means of meeting, of reuniting with the sacred and with people. </div>
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Along with that, I would contend that this is similar to the way we use the word 'spiritual' or 'spirituality.' We often say or suggest that someone who is spiritual, is in tune with the things of God, always looking for connections to God. </div>
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Unfortunately, use of the word 'religion' is not usually as wholesome, due to organized religion's history of demanding conformity under the threat of exclusion. (If you're not like us, we will de-connect with you.) But this is not religion at all, because religion is meant to re-connect, not disconnect. Brian McLaren suggests that we ought to use the word "De-ligion" for those times and those people who are misusing our religious institutions causing disconnect where reconciliation and reuniting is the chief goal. Dressed up deligion divides people based on arguments over creeds, holy lands, denominational differences. It creates in-groups of elites and out-groups of excluded others. </div>
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This isn't a new problem either. Many of the Pharisees in Jesus' day were practicing deligion--casting out the unclean, asserting oppressive purity laws on large populations elevating the few that had the time and resources to abide by them above the masses. This, in essence, was the quarrel between Jesus and the religious (or should I say deligious) leaders of the time. </div>
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People in Christian circles often use the image of wine and wineskins. Back in antiquity, wine was kept in wineskins (basically a leather pouch or bottle often made from goat skin), but eventually the wineskin would go bad causing the wine to sour. New wineskins would be changed out to keep the wine fresh. Imagine "spirituality" is the wine inside and "religion" is the wineskin encasing it. But too often the wineskin has aged and gone bad causing what we've named as deligion. </div>
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McLaren brings it all home well when he writes: </div>
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A spiritual life is a Spirit life, a life in the Spirit, and Jesus' life and work come into proper focus when we realize his goal was not to start a new religion--and certainly not to create a new religion that would seek to compete with or persecute his own religion, Judaism! No, his goal was to fill with Spirit-wine the empty [wine skins] of religion--his own religion and any other one...When people say, "I'm not religious, but I'm spiritual," many of them, I think, see what Jesus saw, that the Spirit's realm of activity can't be limited to the sphere of religion in general, much less to any particular religion. </blockquote>
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So, if it ever happens that I hear someone say she is "spiritual but not religious," I'll probably find myself wondering how that is possible. And, I'll probably interpret them to mean that they are fed up with all the De-ligion around us, but they continue to acknowledge that there is something sacred out there worth pursuing. Most of us call it "God" (a placeholder word, since we don't actually have a name for God), some call it "the More." So, to all the spiritual but not deligious out there, may you continue your quest for Spirit, knowing that your quest is of value, is worthwhile, is beautiful.Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-64105391719705581502011-11-09T13:47:00.000-05:002011-11-09T13:50:44.056-05:00Christ has no body<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">I've come across this poem/song a number of times over the last few years, and each time it causes me to pause and ponder. Thought I'd share it. </span><br />
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<em style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><b>Christ Has No Body</b></em></div>
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Christ has no body but yours,<br />
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,<br />
Yours are the eyes with which he looks<br />
Compassion on this world,<br />
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,<br />
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.<br />
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,<br />
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.<br />
Christ has no body now but yours,<br />
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,<br />
Yours are the eyes with which he looks<br />
compassion on this world.<br />
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.</div>
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-Teresa of Avila (1515–1582)</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Born in Spain, Teresa entered a Carmelite convent when she was eighteen, and later earned a reputation as a mystic, reformer, and writer who experienced divine visions. She founded a convent, and wrote the book <em style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">The Way of Perfection</em> for her nuns. Other important books by her include her <em style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">Autobiography</em> and <em style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">The Interior Castle</em>.</span></div>
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It would be tragic to sit and contemplate the theology of the poem, to analyze, knit-pick, deconstruct and/or challenge St. Teresa with your own minute over-dramatized theological propositions. Instead, let the ideas proposed wash over you and imagine if your hands were Jesus' hands, your feet and mouth were Jesus,' how might that change you? How, then, might you approach the world? </div>Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-88873638713964910842011-11-07T14:38:00.001-05:002011-11-09T13:57:01.933-05:00Reflections on Reading and Writing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Eg3cgIZKzOa-uD_bSgI2Zu_epkIE3Z6YjWDu3czi9rvhcRibWPGHMHgjSSEtws9Uv9ttn005ep7DIvv0XL5N7lJcvqu_t7mLlQQV8WVnrDZFRaZBQnrNBDoqKMfNLXotCoEMHABq6ezC/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Eg3cgIZKzOa-uD_bSgI2Zu_epkIE3Z6YjWDu3czi9rvhcRibWPGHMHgjSSEtws9Uv9ttn005ep7DIvv0XL5N7lJcvqu_t7mLlQQV8WVnrDZFRaZBQnrNBDoqKMfNLXotCoEMHABq6ezC/s1600/images.jpg" /></a>"If there is such a thing as human perfection, it seems to emerge precisely from how we handle the imperfection that is everywhere, especially our own." Fr. Richard Rohr<br />
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You may have, at some point, noticed the list of books on the right-hand side bar of this blog. Like most people, you may have paid it very little mind. And there's nothing wrong with that. My list of recently read books has always been mostly for my benefit. However, if you're reading this post, it's likely you've read others, which have often included my own take on books I've read.<br />
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For most of my life I have not been a reader. All through grade school I hated reading assignments. I was one of those kids who found all the loop holes in how not to do the required reading. Never finished a summer reading book. (Not something I'm proud of.) One summer, we were assigned The Grapes of Wrath. I never even considered reading it. I rented the movie, went to my friend Landry's house to watch it, and fell asleep during the movie. Like an idiot, I didn't re-watch it, I just returned it! How stupid can you get? (Also not something I'm proud of, but in hindsight, it's pretty funny.)<br />
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Not much changed for me in college; however, for one reason or another, I did read a few books independently during those years. Like a dolt, my junior year of college, I signed up for Introduction to American Fiction, only because I'd had the teacher before and liked her. Over the course of the semester we had to read like <i>six</i> novels. Again, what was I thinking?! I wasn't a reader. So, I did my usual, read as little as possible to get by in that class. I might have actually finished one of the Hemingway books (A Call to Arms)...might have.<br />
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As I was contemplating attending seminary, someone once said to me, "If you want to go to seminary, you'd better like reading and writing a lot, because you'll do a lot of both." My inner response to this comment was something of disgust, because, though I'd always received good grades on papers, I didn't particularly enjoy it. I went to seminary anyway.<br />
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In seminary, I was assigned more reading that I could have imagined. What had I gotten myself into? It was like our professors thought the only thing we did was go home and read for their classes. However, I was slowly maturing, and I managed to do a higher percentage of the reading that I would have in college. I even managed to finish the entire book a number of times (quite an accomplishment for me at the time). During the summers I actually began doing some self-chosen reading...Harry Potter (thanks to my brother lending me the books). It took me two summers to get through them all, but I did. I guess you could call Harry Potter the gateway drug to literature. I also made several strides with writing assignments. I wrote my first sermons, which I actually enjoyed. Then I wrote an exegesis (i.e. long Bible research paper), and was proud of what I produced.<br />
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Studying Greek and lots of Hebrew introduced me to the study of language, which I took to like a mosquito to my wife's fair skin. (Having her nearby, I don't have to wear bug repellant.) I learned so much about English from studying the Biblical languages, and this seemed to ignite my enjoyment of reading and writing. All the sudden I was able to spot all kinds of English words, take them apart and often trace the basic meaning back to their Greek or Latin roots. This also made reading theology easier, because high-folutent theologians like to use unnecessarily big words, which are usually just extended logisms on Greek or Latin roots.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJVPAh_QT8SmJeBzoMQsPzvNrog6zjtzPFLmPez-mheHFn1Q-HGcvjatYmtqLJTM6ZwKTHxaxPg9_3m7TLxEvf-EXGhu6Nwm4yOr-jCxCyAjSy-ahhw6Ewbm9oD_ipLTNXX-N6l2vsO2FE/s1600/images1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJVPAh_QT8SmJeBzoMQsPzvNrog6zjtzPFLmPez-mheHFn1Q-HGcvjatYmtqLJTM6ZwKTHxaxPg9_3m7TLxEvf-EXGhu6Nwm4yOr-jCxCyAjSy-ahhw6Ewbm9oD_ipLTNXX-N6l2vsO2FE/s1600/images1.jpg" /></a>I remember being assigned another 12-14 page exegesis for an upper level Old Testament class. I got so into the assignment, my teacher almost penalized me for writing over 20 pages. That was about the time I began this blog, which is an endeavor to explore and expand my capacity as a writer, find my own voice and test to see if I had anything worth saying that people actually wanted to hear. So far, I have developed as a writer, found my voice, and I'm still working on the "something people want to hear" part.<br />
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But, it wasn't until after seminary, during my first CPE residency that I discovered joy in reading. I began choosing books that I wanted to read. To my surprise, they weren't fiction or exciting tales, they were theology books; reading from which most people would vomit. I had some assigned reading, but I found myself enjoying it as well. And every time I finished a book, I experienced a rush of pride. This life-long non-reader just finished a book! Take that!<br />
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I decided to celebrate these achievements, and secretly boast about them, by blogging about the books I read. Thus, I have a list of book reviews on my blog. And I've just exposed a vulnerable secret with you, something I shared with Hannah while in Singapore: every book review I write serves a few different purposes, but one of them is to bolster my pride in finishing a book. But along with that, I write the reviews, because I like keeping a list of what I've read and when I've read it. I also like being able to go back and read what I thought about a book. It has already helped me in recommending books to others seeking some good reading.<br />
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Then, this morning I read a quote from Brian McLaren's book <i>Naked Spirituality</i>, "A secret to the spiritual life is desiring to actually be more spiritual that you appear to be...The secret to hypocrisy is desiring to appear more spiritual that you actually are" (p.87). And this quote, brings to mind my not-so-altruistic motives for writing book reviews: to brag to myself. Hardly a deadly sin, it still made me pause and think. This is exactly what I have been doing. Hypocritically, I was writing book reviews to appear more <i>something</i> (educated? spiritual? well-read? informed?) than I actually am.<br />
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But, so as not to wallow in self-pity or whatever, there's another quote in McLaren's book by Brother David Steindi-Rast that says, "Jokingly but with a great deal of seriousness, [Father Damascus would] say, 'Don't worry about purifying your motives. Simply know that they aren't pure, and proceed'" (p. 93). Ah, the sweet and heavy exhale of permission to be impure, it's very satisfying and right up my impure alley.<br />
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If you'll notice, the two most recently read books on my list are not hyper-linked. I have not written reviews on them. The Brown text was very enlightening: theology of the Third World, and how it differs from our own privileged theology. But, my sense is that theology book reviews on this blog are as uninteresting as blogs can get. The Martin book is a very gripping and popular fantasy novel, about which you can find far better reviews on the internets (that thing you're on right now). And if you surf the internets as well as I surfed the waves in Bali, you'll have no trouble at all!<br />
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So, while I'm still reading, and have many books that I still wish to get to, you'll probably see far fewer book reviews on this blog from now on. I will still keep the side-bar list current, and feel free to inquire about any of the books you see posted there; however, unless one of them is uniquely inspirational, I probably won't be blogging on them...unless I feel the need to brag.Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-39759261400834143472011-11-01T01:51:00.001-04:002011-11-01T02:16:34.223-04:00Visiting Hannah and Greg, part 4: Back to SingaporeA short plane ride, and we were in Singapore once again. First things first, that evening, Greg and I had some zombies over due for some slaying.<br />
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Our next fun adventure booked in Singapore was a Segway tour on Sentosa Island, which is like a big theme park, tourist trap/attraction, activity place, thingy-ma-jigga-wha.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All surprised we can balance without holding the handle bars</td></tr>
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It took just a few minutes, after watching a safety video, to get used to riding these over-priced contraptions.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She-Heather and her Segway</td></tr>
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The moment Greg mounted his Segway he turned into a two-year-old, dashing and swerving, going off course and getting out of line. At one point we raced, and I think I won by a hair. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Greg acting out his terrible 2s</td></tr>
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Our tour lasted about 30 minutes, taking us by beautiful vegetation and a sandy beach. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cruisin' and taking in the sights</td></tr>
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After the tour we also got to do a "Fun-Run" thing on an off-road course. It was kinda neat.....Greg blazed through it! </div>
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A little about Singapore: Singapore is a southeast Asia city/state located off the southern tip of the Malay Peninsula only 137 kilometers north of the equator. It is highly urbanized, though almost half of this small country is still covered with greenery. </div>
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I used to think that the US was the most developed, most urbanized, progressed country. No longer. SIngapore has us beat. Clean is the word. The streets were clean, the sidewalks, buildings. It seemed there were no potholes, no cruddy roads, no "wrong side of the tracks." Greg and Hannah can amend these statements if needed, but everything was well kept and in good shape. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boat atop these three towers comprise a hotel, casino, restaurants and possibly more</td></tr>
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Singapore is a very expensive city. I'm fairly sure it is far more expensive to rent there than in New York or LA. In the very crowded grocery store I noticed $10 boxes of cereal. The Singaporean government seems to have all the money it needs to do what needs to be done. There are all kinds of fines and taxes. For instance, just for the ability to have a car, one must purchase a Certificate of Entitlement (COE). Now, the exchange rate is about one US dollar = .8 Sing dollars. Now, a COE costs somewhere above 30k Sing dollars. You do the math.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I liked this building's look</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By the river</td></tr>
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From our first day there, Hannah and Greg told us about the chili crab at Jumbos. Our last night, we went for it! And oh my gosh! I could have gone swimming in that bowl of chili sauce the crab was served in. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtDkZROUt4x0X4WCfs6ZiizJpteRQ5D5L7hY6r5pD7lzOP4rV3yg9bcyjhawDHdsbnRJohb9o_DT51wGQaQi8ilq_b9sjlLB2env_FUmlYYYsFgeWCiQv-x-9c-gCR7ak3oro-r7m2a178/s1600/IMG_4348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtDkZROUt4x0X4WCfs6ZiizJpteRQ5D5L7hY6r5pD7lzOP4rV3yg9bcyjhawDHdsbnRJohb9o_DT51wGQaQi8ilq_b9sjlLB2env_FUmlYYYsFgeWCiQv-x-9c-gCR7ak3oro-r7m2a178/s320/IMG_4348.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very happy with my noodles</td></tr>
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The food was served family style. So we just ate and ate and 8.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYg0tvyMJkW3C2QVOvAddXb5FFRisjBzoyNp58s_9rv90LTQbb7gYJk8bl8yyOAYabCQplw3Ce6PrFrhD5lQUIOZPZTgyoVbkLkCoOdX4UYfjTHhYd_apwZ_46OyMhiXbQ1P9tTLszSNt/s1600/IMG_4347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYg0tvyMJkW3C2QVOvAddXb5FFRisjBzoyNp58s_9rv90LTQbb7gYJk8bl8yyOAYabCQplw3Ce6PrFrhD5lQUIOZPZTgyoVbkLkCoOdX4UYfjTHhYd_apwZ_46OyMhiXbQ1P9tTLszSNt/s320/IMG_4347.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was my first time eating crab, but it surely won't be the last</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDbObv1uuLGYyYDiaBj9N1O6zLGhsr09RyJi1XCAh28OyweZeFKoxHExYeuP0Ek5GLoS6FH0UcCCEBImQMCWhWXHc9XvIf0j-GldAaxuPJT-PIq1gYNKDKDFwqh-QlEAgazTDDadKX65Si/s1600/IMG_4343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDbObv1uuLGYyYDiaBj9N1O6zLGhsr09RyJi1XCAh28OyweZeFKoxHExYeuP0Ek5GLoS6FH0UcCCEBImQMCWhWXHc9XvIf0j-GldAaxuPJT-PIq1gYNKDKDFwqh-QlEAgazTDDadKX65Si/s320/IMG_4343.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Second best meal during the trip. And that's saying something. See part 2 for my favorite meal.</td></tr>
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Our final event was to take a ride on the Singapore Flyer, the world's largest observation wheel. Much more than a ferris wheel, the flyer has large pods that can each hold about 28 people at a time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS237K3S8MWPNNMgTRjyPM0QldvZaWC-txqHjUfcY6_BR7FjjYIXLadxkQSAX4nPyIT62C8Ra0RBJYkz4SvdunLBZ5zvG40M3K5lec2D2NVx90slNRKE6G0pSuUOz4LBoam1S9lsy7c_YS/s1600/IMG_4374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS237K3S8MWPNNMgTRjyPM0QldvZaWC-txqHjUfcY6_BR7FjjYIXLadxkQSAX4nPyIT62C8Ra0RBJYkz4SvdunLBZ5zvG40M3K5lec2D2NVx90slNRKE6G0pSuUOz4LBoam1S9lsy7c_YS/s320/IMG_4374.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful night views of the city</td></tr>
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It takes 30 minutes to go around once. And some of the cars are dining cars, each times around starts a new course.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78bS2XpuQp9l8eH7EQ3vcDgFyIabG4bnHJbeDgcHpv0hGOliRT4IUaAzv9ce4KZFriRp3-dUHBz4XyMGaY2GZ4fH4PJlpKC_CyXl5HjY0SjTbIlqFLtQPH5z89BId9gvtkpCClk1m29d2/s1600/IMG_4376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78bS2XpuQp9l8eH7EQ3vcDgFyIabG4bnHJbeDgcHpv0hGOliRT4IUaAzv9ce4KZFriRp3-dUHBz4XyMGaY2GZ4fH4PJlpKC_CyXl5HjY0SjTbIlqFLtQPH5z89BId9gvtkpCClk1m29d2/s320/IMG_4376.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful views of Heather and Hannah</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4j5Yd9psMYxaedC2M7ZR2McLSqfqvT-JthzLPlhcxkSluk3XMOCFlG0F837HJFo-9QZaoBRxDh9XYRxRiwIhMw6ElVJBpTXoYp8ul6wTaTSEE6FT4lTuXSSjS-f41504u7ZPFY0TshYR/s1600/IMG_4377.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4j5Yd9psMYxaedC2M7ZR2McLSqfqvT-JthzLPlhcxkSluk3XMOCFlG0F837HJFo-9QZaoBRxDh9XYRxRiwIhMw6ElVJBpTXoYp8ul6wTaTSEE6FT4lTuXSSjS-f41504u7ZPFY0TshYR/s320/IMG_4377.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtIkuCtW6ls1M9vddQC_gWbbm65y7T9ehqQLVW7TMIx-wv1-a6CNc3moaTZMvxUE8OtUFw4zznnTuuqDLz6Zr19hhOzK6CfYJciwK7H3Q9-aavp5gERMvTUWp49-PIm5hTOaIK4KWDERaD/s1600/IMG_4380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtIkuCtW6ls1M9vddQC_gWbbm65y7T9ehqQLVW7TMIx-wv1-a6CNc3moaTZMvxUE8OtUFw4zznnTuuqDLz6Zr19hhOzK6CfYJciwK7H3Q9-aavp5gERMvTUWp49-PIm5hTOaIK4KWDERaD/s320/IMG_4380.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our girls</td></tr>
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Hannah and Greg, we had so much fun visiting you. Thanks so much for sharing your home and putting up with us. We love just hanging out and playing games with you. The best part was not any of the things we did or great places we went, the best part was simply spending time with you. Keep having fun and loving life. We can't wait to see you next time.<br />
<span id="goog_1967723851"></span><span id="goog_1967723852"></span>Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6908408942431358994.post-79971959285394733082011-10-28T13:13:00.001-04:002011-10-28T16:13:23.187-04:00Visiting Hannah and Greg, part 3: Bali (days 3 and 4)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Bali day 3: Snorkeling! </div>
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A car from Blue Season Bali picked us up at our Villa bright and early and brought us to their head quarters where they gear up to take people scuba diving and snorkeling. We got sized for wet suits and headed out to the beach to ride a little tin boat out to the larger boat for the day. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1iL-_pjvM3V-ffr8CesXv_lvzsf4ms0x_5S9dyFMU6vcU-Z58CptrTBe9XiVrkW4x06n4M336LrpbWLeQNG29_4LeiEhuGC42MinAED5ND-BygrJLLe4TgOAvkSY-pc4EEE_AX7TTtJN/s1600/IMG_4207.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1iL-_pjvM3V-ffr8CesXv_lvzsf4ms0x_5S9dyFMU6vcU-Z58CptrTBe9XiVrkW4x06n4M336LrpbWLeQNG29_4LeiEhuGC42MinAED5ND-BygrJLLe4TgOAvkSY-pc4EEE_AX7TTtJN/s320/IMG_4207.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting to board our transport boat</td></tr>
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On our boat was a group of scuba divers along with the four of us snorkelers. Our first stop was Crystal Bay, so named for its crystal clear water. Snorkeling there was so fun. At first the water was cold, but really it wasn't bad, especially with a wet suit. Beneath the bay was a megalopolis of beautiful coral. Every color your eye can imagine was shining brightly up at us as we gazed through our snorkel masks and floated along back and forth with the waves and current.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFiLTrNazDKCo7V9GlzrP1cRohRR3zQFu-w4y_V5WyzKiDyzp0X5EOM_4uzZt21VQsf5bxrczvCP98fP051xQGdD6WxNtoA3prfZxUFS797EjEn5prhyGNMFiSESdrjBtDBlwEMCZqZpIt/s1600/IMG_4235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFiLTrNazDKCo7V9GlzrP1cRohRR3zQFu-w4y_V5WyzKiDyzp0X5EOM_4uzZt21VQsf5bxrczvCP98fP051xQGdD6WxNtoA3prfZxUFS797EjEn5prhyGNMFiSESdrjBtDBlwEMCZqZpIt/s320/IMG_4235.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They don't get sun like this in AK!</td></tr>
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Crystal bay is in an island about a 45-minute ride off the Bali coast. We snorkeled two separate times in this location, each for about an hour (before and after lunch). Meanwhile, the divers went down deep where it was so cold one of the ladies lost the use of a hand while down there and had trouble getting warm back up top even back on the deck of the boat in the intense equator heat. One of the divers was training for her certification for deep adventurous diving, or something like that.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsaWNOLIsDQtOWyII_3laaBxHuSPrcKtavpjgnxZvFpqqxgow7wpIMx7U6xpNvT_ZMc2TXuqvEkt9nkQflU1889tKRiD94Kb2k1rZrXvcTXFVHq8W5fp8hK1CZ27yVrDLAQDxuJD0LMOP/s1600/IMG_4247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsaWNOLIsDQtOWyII_3laaBxHuSPrcKtavpjgnxZvFpqqxgow7wpIMx7U6xpNvT_ZMc2TXuqvEkt9nkQflU1889tKRiD94Kb2k1rZrXvcTXFVHq8W5fp8hK1CZ27yVrDLAQDxuJD0LMOP/s320/IMG_4247.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A nice Bali view</td></tr>
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At our second location, later that afternoon, while the divers went down deep once more, we did a "drift snorkel." For this, the boat dropped us off, then we let the current take us gently along the coast line as we eyed more gorgeous coral cities, and the boat met us down the beach to pick us up.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaHv12Cs0jds5vSxHrPagesSd1a_fcGE2nOw0Mau7HGcNI70XCxEcQWGoK8ip5aIfFCBvnxcl7JdN-puR6mW-Ri4g_REkuPPZSOrlFe-Di-BmVzcockrJBlVu1AADgLX9bGO9v_mV724t/s1600/IMG_4261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaHv12Cs0jds5vSxHrPagesSd1a_fcGE2nOw0Mau7HGcNI70XCxEcQWGoK8ip5aIfFCBvnxcl7JdN-puR6mW-Ri4g_REkuPPZSOrlFe-Di-BmVzcockrJBlVu1AADgLX9bGO9v_mV724t/s320/IMG_4261.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is also a nice view.....(wink*)</td></tr>
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They tried to rent us a water proof camera so we could take pictures of the snorkeling, but $45 was just too steep a price, and they didn't want to haggle. Too bad for them, and too bad for you, since you don't get to see any underwater pictures.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8VO0hD60qBB3UIJoTKXa7jgcySGsvbnoszsCMPSBXkGxOaqGPdwetzDYfYvZUKDx5YNuyvS37VCrGDgKM5L6qXkaBjbh8Q2rhboUbdCPYohEqX1tsBYoOjf53xpM7ujLn6A5E410bjQGz/s1600/IMG_4262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8VO0hD60qBB3UIJoTKXa7jgcySGsvbnoszsCMPSBXkGxOaqGPdwetzDYfYvZUKDx5YNuyvS37VCrGDgKM5L6qXkaBjbh8Q2rhboUbdCPYohEqX1tsBYoOjf53xpM7ujLn6A5E410bjQGz/s320/IMG_4262.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soaking up vitamin D on top deck of the boat</td></tr>
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We were out for the bulk of the day, I think about 7 or 8 hours total. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNa9sF6-_omQc5ra455H3riLfToScB67Va0e_oUeCyWxHSK-twEOqECl58QxvINx91I540wbj6kG-2UsUrf2SMreCMVdub-mEeHAJhIA-g9cTBBGLx-aYk4tm2GXhMHvAU7VKPnNfcZqli/s1600/IMG_4264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNa9sF6-_omQc5ra455H3riLfToScB67Va0e_oUeCyWxHSK-twEOqECl58QxvINx91I540wbj6kG-2UsUrf2SMreCMVdub-mEeHAJhIA-g9cTBBGLx-aYk4tm2GXhMHvAU7VKPnNfcZqli/s320/IMG_4264.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This ship got stuck on the sand bar just a week earlier</td></tr>
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This sand bar had two ships recently stuck. Our boat hand said they had to wait for the big tide to come back next season before they could get them free.</div>
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That night we decided to go out to dinner somewhere. Our first stop, recommended by our villa's info book, was a restaurant called Ku De Ta. It was probably the most "hip" most "sheik" most trendy and most "posh" place I've ever been. (Not really me scene.) It was all poorly lit, with loud obnoxious new-techno music and a modern look; but, it had a grassy area with cushions that looked out on the beach. We plopped down and watched the sunset while we enjoyed some over-priced drinks. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9g09GpTF51ETVTYikSWswiErCDH5gRe1_PW1wu5bULLroVyugbtpwLTjnHFfaBMRnHsV3gyTWM38oDGfTKdQLXp1ZG6qt0-nmW1VCEqvsN7ffV0Acy2YT8tmzugR91VdXapiuGD-kCxWF/s1600/IMG_4281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9g09GpTF51ETVTYikSWswiErCDH5gRe1_PW1wu5bULLroVyugbtpwLTjnHFfaBMRnHsV3gyTWM38oDGfTKdQLXp1ZG6qt0-nmW1VCEqvsN7ffV0Acy2YT8tmzugR91VdXapiuGD-kCxWF/s320/IMG_4281.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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The sunset was awesome, and better yet, we paid almost $30 for two drinks. It doesn't get better than that.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1xou9OqxzfKKi9r5W58h9WBiz9AONoQ7R0vITpVimElLO1MO2_bBpN8On5I1IACJ6BW1n9Df0JyA4LxqiNhSWeSypJG7MVR5Y_F2XbtEIEH3m5VSfWOqPDZGWyDI78Rv3yTE7ldjOQcL6/s1600/IMG_4275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1xou9OqxzfKKi9r5W58h9WBiz9AONoQ7R0vITpVimElLO1MO2_bBpN8On5I1IACJ6BW1n9Df0JyA4LxqiNhSWeSypJG7MVR5Y_F2XbtEIEH3m5VSfWOqPDZGWyDI78Rv3yTE7ldjOQcL6/s320/IMG_4275.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our sunset view from Ku De Ta</td></tr>
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We ended up heading down the street to Ultimo Italian Restaurant and eating some good old Bali-made italian (and well priced) food. Heather's and my entire meal ended up cheaper than two drinks at Ku De Ta. <br />
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Day 4 in Bali: Surfing and departing<br />
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On our last day in Bali, we finally went to the beach (the beach at which, the very next day there was an earthquake). So, actually, Greg didn't make it to the beach, he had to stay behind to take care of some work stuff. (Those suckers with those jobs. I pity them.)<br />
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There were lots of chairs and big umbrellas. But if you wanted to use them you had to deal with one of the guys trying to sell them to you. So, we haggled with the first guy, but he was trying to get too much money out of us. We walked away and got a better price from the next one down the sand.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit9UotOtWtfHyPAXOKPf7NqvUs3sLtnVQ8xQ8E8Ct_KTr2Pe8tAvThC_v8LB5zx9hjLxz5PENiLlTvPrvFx1h9btIKyuBI1NbsvTaL-GKr-dtg3Rcpuf0twLw7KrD7lNEzMQsenlQkw1jH/s1600/IMG_4313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit9UotOtWtfHyPAXOKPf7NqvUs3sLtnVQ8xQ8E8Ct_KTr2Pe8tAvThC_v8LB5zx9hjLxz5PENiLlTvPrvFx1h9btIKyuBI1NbsvTaL-GKr-dtg3Rcpuf0twLw7KrD7lNEzMQsenlQkw1jH/s320/IMG_4313.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls enjoyed some ice cream while enjoying the beach</td></tr>
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After settling in, I went back to my same little haggling friend and did something I'd been wanting to try for a long time....I rented a surf board! I talked him down to $3. Not bad. Of course, I don't actually know the first thing about how to surf other than what I've seen on TV. However, I can do quite a few sports that involve a board on your feet (snow skiing, water skiing, snow boarding, wake boarding, knee boarding and probably something I'm forgetting), so I figure I had a good chance at figuring out the surfing thing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinZiIo8tffdPA488cKxQa_SPXLwxggI4l-NpDJ9GiurIYUXmx9I8A8VpmXlSG8CyZzPqoGueObrg7yb2rpcD1VYCmoE6FDbTzQD4Ym-tEgIFC5NsDUzwWPcxiBFaUcXwByeSkV0089nki7/s1600/DSC_0359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinZiIo8tffdPA488cKxQa_SPXLwxggI4l-NpDJ9GiurIYUXmx9I8A8VpmXlSG8CyZzPqoGueObrg7yb2rpcD1VYCmoE6FDbTzQD4Ym-tEgIFC5NsDUzwWPcxiBFaUcXwByeSkV0089nki7/s320/DSC_0359.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My big ol' beginner board</td></tr>
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It took me a little while to figure out the board, and the waves, and timing and balance and all that, but after not too long, I was up...at least for a matter of seconds. My first several attempts to stand resulted in a quick and dirty splash back into the waves.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj4-KXU-XP9FXUkepgFj5hkXECYygaC-LibkAIKxc5HDoF2j-wKynyfNEg7g3fDsWIWfEJeQOjfdsRJZ8B3aA6dF7bLdsUpRDqizmsOff1DlvtNkneXGQYe2nevPK58D7xVe3ORBwvtZYU/s1600/DSC_0414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj4-KXU-XP9FXUkepgFj5hkXECYygaC-LibkAIKxc5HDoF2j-wKynyfNEg7g3fDsWIWfEJeQOjfdsRJZ8B3aA6dF7bLdsUpRDqizmsOff1DlvtNkneXGQYe2nevPK58D7xVe3ORBwvtZYU/s320/DSC_0414.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my early attempts, not looking to good for me</td></tr>
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HOWEVER, I eventually did figure it out, and got in some long and really fun rides. Below is video evidence, that my previous foot/board experience paid off, as I surf for over 13 seconds all the way to shore with no wipe out!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyCFNx1ytDm_SzUSwCk_gPs4hB-_L9cDhvy3u-t0x-qDKsyBhMe8nBLFyHznn7V2XK14kWT74pI7Q_wSnFp0g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
Go, Nathan, go!<br />
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I was surprised out how much work surfing was. I was sore all over after only 1.5 hours of surfing, and I was beat. For the next several days my back and neck were sore sore sore.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQWn1SdykaeoHI2jnTK8sFglxWmffJmwmpgS02itdK-pAAGrUxN8x3rDv3XEweAwp_GjKnmvFp4QJmBnqYZ6LQvdpgkKd_o44Oau5-aZuJp4Q3nOQxWzg0eENK3blvvblNwnnMGwEGIl8/s1600/DSC_0462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQWn1SdykaeoHI2jnTK8sFglxWmffJmwmpgS02itdK-pAAGrUxN8x3rDv3XEweAwp_GjKnmvFp4QJmBnqYZ6LQvdpgkKd_o44Oau5-aZuJp4Q3nOQxWzg0eENK3blvvblNwnnMGwEGIl8/s320/DSC_0462.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back at the villa, Greg fought the mosquitoes by smoking them out with the super smoker</td></tr>
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But, we had to get back to the villa, pack up, and get to the airport to catch our flight back to Singapore. So, we said goodbye to our beautiful villa, the low Bali prices, and the Southern hemisphere and checked out. We had a few hours before having to be at the airport. So, Hannah and Greg went back to Body Works and got another massage each, while Heather and did shopping and haggling in the markets.<br />
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But finally, it was time to go...(sniff). Waiting for our plane, we took in one last great Bali sunset.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6X_fbYhuQsT2xwysTez6sJ-dJZK7WSC7_drgPBl_gCtFZw5vsavjBMVgx3QO8IL4e1EWm4p3Smltwg19yTZw_z1PMEUiKBdQaoP5Ii4injYnjzAlYZfgUoaqpbbXSFgInXp2tST10Bjo/s1600/DSC_0465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6X_fbYhuQsT2xwysTez6sJ-dJZK7WSC7_drgPBl_gCtFZw5vsavjBMVgx3QO8IL4e1EWm4p3Smltwg19yTZw_z1PMEUiKBdQaoP5Ii4injYnjzAlYZfgUoaqpbbXSFgInXp2tST10Bjo/s320/DSC_0465.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Back to Singapore for two more days with Hannah and Greg (and zombie killing!).Nathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13087869133360553247noreply@blogger.com3