Good Words Monday

The secret of staying young is to live honestly,

eat slowly, and lie about your age.
―Lucille Ball

Convict Honeymoon - Day 2

On our second day of honeymooning fun, Morgan gave me my first real look at Convict Lake. Morgan isn't a fan of sleeping in for too long, whereas I can stay in bed just about all day, so after he made us some breakfast in bed, he dragged me out of said bed and walked me down to his favorite part of the lake, the stream.

My new husband carrying our fishing poles (because why else would we be going to the stream?) and his old/my new water boots.

I was excited to finally see this infamous stream and admire the God given beauty all around us. At the same time, I was thankful for the bug spray in my bag.

I forget what Morgan said these butterflies were doing, but they were beautiful and they were EVERYWHERE. They reminded me of the abundant butterflies we had in Sapa, Vietnam.

The stream!! Unfortunately, I can't find the photos of the bridge that I took. It made me want one in my backyard, stream/pond or not. The water was kind of low, the water very much freeezing.

Morgan was so so eager to get in the water and cast his line. Nevermind the freezing water(which took most of the color out of his pale legs), his cup over flowed at this moment. Fishing(1) at his most favorite place (2) with his new wife (3). I think he was happy.

Morgan calls this his favorite outfit. I received a lot of lovely "married outfits" at my bachelorette party, but none of them compared to this little number. He's so weird. I should probably get a large copy of this picture and frame it for him. "Merry Christmas, Honey!" If the above is Morgan's favorite outfit, this is his favorite scene of the trip. Even with the boots, my feet were cold.

I LOVED all of the birch trees. I called it Idlewild, like Anne did in Anne of Green Gables.

I found this little gem, which irritated Morgan. This is like graffiti to him, but I thought it was appropriate and am glad I found it.

We fished for a while, moving along the stream, but caught nothing. Actually, I caught one. The first and only one. But...Morgan released it before I could take my picture with it. Jealous much? Since the fish weren't biting, we decided to pack up and head out. We drove North to Mammoth Lakes and venture around. Whenever Morgan and his family go to Convict, they go to Mammoth Lakes and eat at Giovanni's Pizzeria. So naturally, we had lunch there. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera, so I don't have any pictures of that momentous event. But I can still taste the pizza...so good. I really like Mammoth and can't wait to go back. While exploring, we found this little gem.

The first thing I saw driving up the road was the waterfall. Simply breathtaking. We sat and watched the water fall and decided to continue up the road. We saw people fishing, and because our gear was still in the car, pulled over and found a spot. We still didn't catch anything, but found some cabins and found out that the lake is called Twin Lakes. We didn't understand why that was for just the one lake, but figured there was some story behind it. We got back in the car and kept on going up because I wanted to get closer to the waterfall.

We kept driving and driving up the road and found another lake. "Where's the waterfall?" We were on top of it! At the very top of this picture (the end of the water) is where we took the picture of the two of us.

A bridge goes over the very top of the waterfall (where it starts to fall) and the view is quite breathtaking. And loud.

There was quite a group at the top, standing on the bridge, climbing down and such, looking at the waterfall. An older lady saw us trying to get a good picture of us via Morgan's long arm, and offered her services. She reminded me of Paula Deen.

This is the second lake, hence the name Twin Lakes. Ooooohhhh....This one at the top provides the water for the waterfall, which spills into the bigger lake at the bottom.
Boats in a row. I think I want that in my backyard too.

Morgan and I felt like buying something that really signified our honeymoon trip, so we kept our eye out for something special. On our way back down the road, I saw an art shop. We pulled over and walked into the anicent home that carried numerous pieces of art. Big frames, small frames, pottery, post cards...all created by local hands. We browsed around, hoping to find a painting of Convict. There were only two or three, and all were way out of our price range. The lady who worked there was able to locate a smaller piece for a more resonable price. Though the painting isn't entirely accurate, Morgan decided to get it after the lady explained "artist's perspective." So now, we will forever have a piece of art telling the story of our honeymoon.

Tired and hungry from the days fishing and hiking, we headed back to our cabin to get ready for dinner. We ate at The Restaurant at Convict Lake, which provided some of the most scrumptous food I have ever eaten. We were afraid we would be turned away when we got there because we didn't have reservations, but we were kindly seated in the small dining room. Who would have thought this rugged little resort in the middle of nowhere really, had the most amazing restaurant? I definitly would not mind eating another meal from there, ever.

Day three is soon to come, more than likely in parts. It was the busiest day of our week, so there are lots of photos to share. Fun times indeed!

Redneck Halloween

Morgan wanted to done his mullet wig again, and I wanted to do the couple's thing, so we compromised =)

Our new family portrait. Complete with Mo's farmers tan, and...the hickey I let him give me. For the costume, of course.

Kendra (my brothers fiance) was a boxer, my brother Julian was a nerd (why the costume was needed, I don't know) Weezy was freakin' Harry Potter, my sister Gaby was a witch, and her boyfriend Michael was Bob Villa with a beer gut (I drew his beard).

Wed 'n Wild did me good on the make-up while WalMart helped "crack mom" me out. The blue mumu was actually already part of my waredrobe....I think my favorite part (other than the hot pink lipstick that stained my lips red) were the fake cigarettes.

The FUNNIEST moment of the evening was when one of the guests who didn't know Morgan, realized (after a few hours) that Morgan was indeed...in costume.

Good Words Monday

Love is a great beautifier.

Louisa May Alcott

(From Little Women, I think...it's one of my absolute favorites)

Good Words Monday

I've felt like doing a "theme day" for a while and my cousins Wordless Wednesdays inspired me even more.

I've always loved words. Morgan and I are packing (still) and I found a ton of little bits of paper that I saved, full of quotes and sayings. Some of them I still like, others, I have no idea why I wrote them down. I found some old notebooks with words scribbled on the pages, and decided to scribble more as I transferred those from the bits of paper into the book.

So today's first words are, unfortunately, are not the cheery words that fill my notebook. I'm not in a happy mood and haven' t been in a while, for obvious reasons. I've gotten worse. The shock of my dad's death is over and the grief has been coming on full force. Everything makes me cry and I cry a lot. Even when I don't want to, and force it down as hard as I can, it still comes out, and I get mad and embarrassed. Everyone is understanding, but at the same time, no one likes a cry baby. Not in the middle of class, at a birthday party, in an aisle at Target, or the public library.

It started about a week ago, when Morgan and I were at WalMart shopping for my Halloween costume. I was pulling into the parking lot and saw Parker, the mechanic who always fixed my precious Gina when something was wrong with her. My dad liked him, and so while we were in the store, I kept telling myself, "Don't forget to tell dad you saw Parker." I don't know how many times I said that.

Mo and I were walking back to the car and as I was getting in, I began to say again, "Don't forget to tell dad you saw Parker," only out loud this time. It felt like I was falling a great distance. All of the air was sucked out of me, and I made some kind of silly noise that Morgan looked at me and instantly knew something was wrong. "What is it?" he asked. I started to cry and couldn't talk for a while. Of course my husband assumed it was something to do with my dad, so he didn't probe any more and just waited for me to compose myself.

When I finally did, I told him, "I forgot that my dad was dead."

Morgan didn't say anything. He just continued to rub my back. "I kept telling myself, 'Don't forget to tell dad you saw Parker...Don't forget to tell dad you saw Parker,' and I was about to say it out loud so you would help me remember....then I remembered and it felt like he died all over again."

It's amazing that I'm able to get out of bed every morning. The days are long and hard and I would much rather be in bed all day. But I know my dad wouldn't like that.

So, long story short, here is the first quote for Good Words Monday:

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart,
and you shall see that in truth you are weeping
for that which has been your delight. ~Kahlil Gibran

Halloween...

Morgan circa 1987

...it's around the corner! I've already inhaled an insane amount of candy corn and those delish pumpkin candies. Mo and I are going to 2 Halloween parties, both of which will be too much fun to handle. I'm thinking we'll probably need to call a taxi....My costume is ready to go, as is Mo's, and I promise to post a photo from the night. It should be good =)

Are you dressing up?

Oh how I miss him...

Ismael Solis Palomo

July 14, 1950 - September 11, 2009

It's been nearly a month since I last saw my dad alive. A month...an eternity.

I don't know that I'm really ready to write about that day. I just know that it's hard getting back to normal, to living on without him. Some days are easier than most...school keeps me busy, my mind occupied on lesson plans and papers. Then just like that, with no warning, I'm hit with a memory...a smell...someone's voice...a boy with hazel eyes walking by me...and the pain comes back full-on. I fight the tears, I fight the sickening feeling in my stomach, and try to keep going. Then the guilt and fear come soon after and I start to worry that I'll forget what he looked like, that I'll forget what he smelled like, that I'll forget the sound of his voice, and the twinkle in his eyes.

Hazel...my daddy had the most beautiful, kind hazel eyes. Eyes of a mischievous boy, always out to get a reaction from you. He loved the shock factor. And when he got you, that mischievous twinkle was accompanied with a mischievous grin.

I want so badly to see him again. To hold his hand and kiss his forehead. To lay my head in his lap as we watched the news, like I used to as a little girl. I would laugh as his stomach gurggled and he would "soosh" me because Peter Jennings was talking. Then he would stroke my hair as if to apologize. When he would stop, I would laugh again and he would "soosh" me again, then start to stroke my hair all over again. I loved it when he played with my hair, so I would laugh all through the news hour.

When I can't take it anymore, I sit in his chair and rock myself as I cry, inhaling the last bit of his scent on his green recliner. From that spot, I can see our family portrait , taken right after he was diagnoised with his illness. Acute Pulminary Hypertension and Congestive Heart Failure. Big, scary words. You can see the disease had already aged him, that he was already so tired, but he still had those eyes...

I guess I should be happy that in a sense, we had 5 extra years with him. Back when that picture was taken, the doctors didn't know how much time he had left. If it hadn't been for a team at Stanford, it would have been four months. But thanks to them and a doctor here in town who cried with us when he died, and of course my mom, he lived another 5 years with us. He saw his grandson grow, he welcomed his son home from 2 tours in Iraq, he saw his baby graduate from high school and move out on her own, he walked me down the aisle.

But I'm selfish and want another 5 years. And then 5 more and 5 after that...I know that he was tired, that the medicine wasn't working anymore. But I want my daddy. It's not ok when the man you looked at as immortal, as having superhero strenghth, can't even breathe on his own.

Of all the cards we recieved after his passing, it was what Grandma Barnes wrote that has helped me the most:

God saw that he was tired

And the cure was not to be,

So He put His arms around him

And whispered, 'Come with Me.'

The only thing that makes his death bearable is that he is Home. Home where he is no longer in pain, where he is no longer tried, where he is no longer sick. When I think of my daddy in heaven, I don't see him as being sick anymore, I see him as who he was before the illness...strong, young and able. Walking the fields like he loved, tending to the gardens of Heaven, and free...free from pills, free from oxygen tanks, free from an illness that weakened him.

Alongside Jesus, he is alive again.