East to Weston (the Original): March 2007

30 March 2007

weight-loss update

Some months ago I wrote an entry about embarking on a weight-loss journey. Having only begun it at the time, I was full of motivation and inspiration and enthusiasm for my plan. Well, I am happy to report that several months later (I’ve lost track of exactly how long I’ve been actively doing this), I am STILL motivated! I don’t know if my enthusiasm is as high as it once was, but my motivation is definitely still there. I am still getting up early most mornings to work out, I’m still skipping dessert and drinking mostly water and have even cut out most of my coffee intake. I see progress every week, which is what tends to keep me motivated.

I admit the journey has had its fair share of ups and downs. If I’d really stuck with things, I am sure by now I could have lost twice as much as I actually have. There have been periods of three to four weeks where I seem to lose the same pound-and-a-half … and then periods losing five pounds in two weeks. The process is not a smooth one, the graph isn’t one steady climbing line. And I’ve had my share of “bad days” where I eat nothing but Reese’s Pieces for dinner. But with every week that passes, and every small milestone reached, I am closer to my goal. And it has been exciting to see the overall progress as my eating and exercise habits slowly change.

What is my goal, you might ask. Well, I’m trying to keep my goal loose and vague, rather than shooting for a target weight. I am pursuing health, better eating habits, a more active lifestyle. I am trying to teach myself portion control, how to choose wisely from a restaurant menu, and to think about what I’m eating at parties and snacking on at home. Its so easy to eat mindlessly. My goal is to overhaul this area of my life, something that has long needed an overhaul, not just lose weight to lose weight. Because once I DO reach my goal, I want to be able to maintain that, hopefully for a lifetime. But that kind of change takes time … lots of it, I’m discovering.

But things are happening, and I’m proud to report that the scale shows I’ve lost 16 pounds overall. My clothes are all too loose, some so loose its time to retire them to the Good Will. It’s been nice to be able to wear everything in my closet again, even those pants that for a while were too tight to wear in public. Don’t want to embarrass the masses, you know. Lately I’ve been going shopping in my own closet! And I’ve found fun things that seem new all over again.

But that hasn’t necessarily satisfied the itch to shop. I love to shop, you see. I love to wander the mall, I love to find that great deal. I love to have that new shirt in my closet that makes me feel girly and beautiful … or that pair of shoes to finally match that dress perfectly … or a new purse to add to the already-burgeoning collection, but which simply HAD to be had. And I’ve been pretty good about not buying much lately (I want to SAVE my money and go on a big shopping spree some time this summer when my goal has been reached … a whole new wardrobe!).

However, yesterday I got the uncontrollable urge to SHOP. So on my lunch break, I went to the mall. I decided to hit The Limited and see if they had any sales going on. It’s my absolute FAVORITE store. And you see, for all the fun my own wardrobe has been, things ARE getting too loose, and I just need a few things to get me through that awkward stage between the size I am and the size I want to be.

Well, wouldn’t you know it … The Limited was having a HUGE sale! Everything on sale was an additional 40% off! That meant that the pants that were marked down to $50 from $98, were now only $30! It was a dream. I could have really well-made pants from my fancy store for the price of the crappy ones at Old Navy!

But there was a problem. The pants in my size fit me very well, close to being on the loose side. I could have worn them that day and looked FABULOUS. But as I stood there in the dressing room in the really nice formerly $98 pants, I got to thinking … if I buy these in my size now, I’ll only get to wear them for a few weeks, and then they’ll be too big. But if I buy them the next size down (a size I haven’t worn in years, by the way), a size I can get on but shouldn’t leave the house in just yet, it would really only be another month or so until I could wear them … and THEN I could wear them for several months, at least. The investment on pants that don’t currently fit me was seeming more and more like the wise one. I’d already proven I’m losing weight. I know I’ll do it.

And so I did it. I broke one of the most cardinal rules of shopping, and I bought TWO pair of pants that don’t fit me! They’re hanging in my closet right now, pants I can’t wear in public, pants I hope will fit me in May! AM I CRAZY?! I’ve never really done that before, not being a believer in the “if I spend real money on something super cute but too small I’ll be motivated to lose the weight so I can wear it” theory. It doesn’t work. But this time, I’ve already proven that losing the weight won’t be an issue. I’m already motivated … and oddly enough, the awesome pants in my closet that don’t fit me are actually bringing back some of that lost enthusiasm to go along with my motivation to keep going. Because in just another month or so, I will get to wear beautiful fabulous NEW pants that make me feel good and pretty and … well, smaller.

And so the journey continues.

(For updates on my weight loss, I actually keep a ticker updated at the bottom of this page … just in case you’re interested.)

Posted by hjw at 12:52 PM | Permalink | Comments

26 March 2007

coincidence? i think not.

I think there is a not-so-coincidental reason that "morning" and "mourning" have little difference between them but a measly little vowel. And Monday mournings ... er, mornings ... have got to be the most profound evidence for the non-coincidence of this little noted rhyme in the English language. Who ever decided morning was a good time to get up, get going, get moving, get started, get working, get ... well ... anything?? Its a cruel, cruel time of day ... now used as one of the most severe forms of torture known the world over. What's worse, when one becomes accustomed to this torturous cultural norm, they are praised, lauded and put on pedestals! But what they do not know is that they have simply succumbed to the evil powers trying to take over our indigent way of life! We ... we who have resisted conformity to this forced shift in our very natures to function before the hour of 11:30 a.m. ... we are the strong ones! We should stand up and fight for our rightful way of life! Let's turn morning back into what it was meant to be ... a time for sleep, for hours in our pajamas, for drinking leisurely from our too-many cups of coffee. Our incoherence and our blatant disregard for anything requiring our cognitive selves before the caffeine has set in and the daylight has seeped into our very souls ... its our RIGHT! Its the way it was meant to be. Why must we fight it?

You know what I think happened? One day, long ago, the rooster decided it was tired of being an average bird, living in a coop, overseeing all those cackling hens. So he began waking up his masters with his crow earlier and earlier every morning, until one day ... they thought it was normal to be up before the sun! He slowly programmed them to rise on his command. And now, to this day, that pre-dawn crow of every rooster worldwide is not just a wake-up call, its an evil, maniacal laugh ... because he has won ... and the stupid humans don't even know that he is the true ruler! Who let the rooster win?!?!

Posted by hjw at 6:37 PM | Permalink | Comments

21 March 2007

memory lane

Last night as I was washing dishes, the scent of the dish soap reminded me of a previous life of mine. Have you ever had that happen before? Has a scent or a song or a certain taste taken you back to another time and another place? Dish soap isn't all that glamorous a time machine, but it smelled the same as the soap I used when I would wash dishes in my little apartment in China. Yes, China. I used to live in China. Did you know that? I spent 4 years there, in fact. It seems strange now that I lived there, almost like it really was another lifetime. But the images are still strong in my mind ...

kids eating squid on a stick;

squatty potties;

the sea of red and yellow taxis;

the 5 a.m. corn vendor whose voice didn't need an amplifier;

the potholes;

the mosquitoes, whose tiny buzzing could evict me from my bedroom for the night;

the crushing humid summers and the bitter winters;

the 5,000 years of uninterrupted history, some of it still evident in the lined faces of the old men and women sitting outside their homes in the sun;

the one English word known to all humanity, "Hello!" yelled at me from all corners of the country;

the vast countryside with its horse-drawn carriages;

the trains, with toilets that literally empty right on to the track below;

the Great Wall, just a weekend vacation;

the food ... oh how I miss the food;

so many Chinese students who so easily became friends ...

My list could go on for days, but perhaps only I would be interested in it ...

As of this summer I will have been back in the States for four years, the same amount of time I spent living in China. It was once an everyday occurrence for me to walk down the street and buy fried rice from the vendor on the corner for $.25. I used to walk to Chinese language class five days a week, which was entirely in Chinese, from day one, and read characters on the board and understand what they meant. I've spent weekend vacations in Beijing, Hong Kong, XiAn and Shanghai. I've been on the Great Wall of China three times, and riding past TianAnMen Square on my way to the train station became a ho-hum occurence. I used to bargain for goods on the streets ... in Chinese. I shopped in open air markets almost every day for fresh vegetables and fruit, walked nonchalantly past cooked ducks hanging by their necks in the windows of restaurants ... and then happily order one of them for dinner.

My years in China were also home to some of my closest relationships ... roommates and teammates. There's something about being Americans together in a foreign land that draws you close together. We lived together, worked together, ate together, played together, cried together, prayed together ... and it only took a few days of that to become best friends. I believe there will always be a special bond between us who experienced those years together. It was too grand an experience, too deep a lesson, too strong a connection to be lost to mere years and distance. There was Kimberly (pictured), Chrissy, Carlynne, Scott & Elaine, Trey & Tania, and so many others whose lives touched mine so profoundly. I miss them all, and yet hold fast to their everlasting impact on me.

So, today let us sing praises to dish soap ... for taking me back to perhaps the hardest four years of my life (the hard times are another essay in themselves), and yet some of the most endearing and life-changing ones. I wouldn't trade my years overseas for anything, and would even go so far as to recommend such difficult times to others. They are so much a part of who I am now, taught me so much about myself and the world around me ... including that not having a dishwasher really isn't all that bad.

Posted by hjw at 8:55 AM | Permalink | Comments

17 March 2007

unmet expectations

Being the "J" that I am, I have a hard time when things don't go the way I expect. Like today for instance: For a while now I've been wanting to repaint the downstairs a pale, greyish-green, a perfect color to match the couch and the chair and the forthcoming decor I have in mind. Last night we prepped the room, moving all the furniture and taping off all the areas we DIDN'T want with pale, greyish-green all over them.

This morning we arose lazily, went to the gym, went by Lowe's to grab those couple of extra things we still needed ... and by 10:00 we were painting. As the color went on the walls, it seemed a bit blue to me, but I didn't pay too much attention to my misgivings, because I was sure it was just my eyes playing a trick on me ... changing my perfect pale, greyish-green to a somewhat pale, greyish-blue. As we neared finishing the SECOND coat of paint, our paint job looking quite perfect I might add, I finally pulled out our original paint chip from which we chose our perfect pale, greyish-green, only to discover that what we had put on our walls was in fact BLUE! I DIDN'T ORDER BLUE! I ordered a perfect pale, greyish-green, to match my couch and my chair and my forthcoming decor schemes.

Well, after trying desperately to decide that it was going to be OK, and then realizing that I would NEVER be happy with this nice but unsought-after blue, we headed back to Lowe's (making a quick stop at Baskin Robbins for some comfort food). I needed the color that would match the chip from which I chose the paint. We went to customer service, and talked with a manager who was actually quite helpful. He automatically asked if we used a primer, and we had to confess that we had not. He then went on to tell us how much the color underneath the new color can change the appearance of it. He would have left it at that, but I just couldn't see how my color would change THAT much, just because of what was underneath. After some deliberating, he finally suggested a test with the paint. He put a small dab of it directly on the paint chip from which I chose my paint color ... and sure enough, it was MUCH more blue than the original! VINDICATION! I was validated, and Mr. "You should have used primer" know-it-all manager (whoc was actually quite nice) was proved wrong. And he refunded us the full price of the two gallons of blue paint.

It was now after 4 in the afternoon, the time by which we were supposed to already have the paint on the walls, the furniture back in its place, and a newly decorated den, in a perfect pale, greyish-green, in which to sit and watch Jurassic Park (our creature feature of choice for the evening). But at 4 we were still at Lowe's, mixing new paint by another brand, buying a couple more plastic paint trays, and listening to lectures on the value of primer (which this time we were willing to take, albeit begrudgingly). The new paint color was still off the paint chip a bit, though not nearly as much as the last one.

As soon as we got home we got to work on the primer (take note, this is the third coat of paint in one day, and the square footage in the room is slowly getting smaller). Once it was finished, we had to wait for it to dry ... so we ordered a pizza and sat around waiting for it to arrive. After we ate, we started on the fourth coat of paint, the first coat of the NEW and hopefully perfect pale, greyish-green to match the couch and the chair and the forthcoming decor schemes.

At 8:30, we'd had enough. The downstairs was still a complete mess, and the fumes from all the paint and primer had probably seeped a bit too far into our brains ... so we decided to call it a night. Just to taunt the evil redecorating gods, we set up my laptop on the end of the bed and watched Jurassic Park anyway. It turned out to be a perfect way to end an otherwise frustrating day.

My frustration and tears from earlier in the day are already a fading memory ... now that we have the right color going on the walls. I would say I wish I were more of a "roll with it" kind of person, but in this situation, I don't know that it would have helped. Is it too much to expect a paint color to match the chip from which it is chosen? I think not.

Posted by hjw at 6:13 PM | Permalink | Comments

16 March 2007

a saint's prayer

Today I received a forwarded email that I really didn't mind receiving. According to the email, the following is said to be a common prayer of the late Mother Theresa. I think it is actually quite profound in its simplicity. May it make a small impact in the midst of a busy day for you today:

"May today there be peace within. May you trust God that you are exactly where you ar emeant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settled into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us."

Posted by hjw at 1:01 PM | Permalink | Comments

11 March 2007

the wonders of Death Valley

Well, Caleb and I have finally gotten all our pictures from Death Valley up on the website. Following is a small sampling, and some of my favorite reasons why we visit Death Valley at all.

Where else in the world can you take your pictures under THIS sign? The lowest point in the valley is actually 282 feet below sea level, the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere.

This is called Golden Canyon, and is one of the most beautiful spots in the valley, especially when the light hits the hills just right. As you go through the full set of pictures in the gallery, you'll see how it attracts photographers like paparazzi.

Looking in the rear view mirror you can see the dust trail we're leaving behind us. Death Valley is home to hundreds of miles of dirt road, and usually the longer the dirt road, the more worthy the destination. Dirt roads took us to the Racetrack, through Titus Canyon, and all the way out to the Eureka Sand Dunes, some of the biggest dunes I've ever seen in my life.

I love dirt roads.

Death Valley really is a photographer's paradise. Here, my husband and my dad can't keep their fingers off the shutter. Despite what some people think, the landscape is widely varying, and full of color, and the sheer expanse of the valley calls even the most amateur photographers to attempt great shots.

This is Teakettle Junction, where passers-by have left their teakettles over the years. I don't know how the tradition was begun, but its fun to look through them all and see who's left them. This junction is on the dirt road on the way out to the Racetrack.

The Racetrack. Its a dry lake bed. Its anomoly is the rocks that appear to move on their own across the floor, leaving trails behind them. To this day, even scientists only have theories on how the rocks have moved.

This is also a good representation of the sheer expanse of the valley. I think that's one of my favorite things about DV, why I call it the Big Sky country of California. There are no crowds to fight, no traffic to get stuck in, no electronics to distract me, not even tall buildings to obstruct the view. Its big and wide and open, a place to truly breathe deeply.

This is me, sitting on one of the rocks in the Racetrack that has mysteriously traveled down the lake bed.

This is Andrew, my brother-in-law, standing over Titus Canyon. The photograph doesn't do the colors justice, but those hills are magnificent in all their various shades of burgundy, green, yellow, orange and red.

It was such a great trip. And for those of you out there who might still be doubting Death Valley is a worthy vacation destination, I encourage you to try it on your own. I dare you not to be surprised. For more of my pictures, you can look through this gallery. For Caleb's photos, check out this gallery.

Posted by hjw at 5:07 PM | Permalink | Comments

09 March 2007

the beginning

On our way up to Death Valley last weekend we drove up along 395, which follows the Eastern side of the Sierra Nevadas. This side of the Sierras is much more rugged and untamed than the more foresty western slopes. And they were plastered in snow, which can be unusual for the drier side of the mountains. This picture was taken from the new and improved Lone Pine visitors center, and the view was simply spectacular. We weren't even to Death Valley yet, and already the scenery was helping me breathe deeper.

What's fun about these mountains is that I have climbed them, to their tallest peak in fact ... Mt. Whitney. Its 14,496 feet tall, the tallest mountain in the continental United States ... and just 100 miles from Bad Water, Death Valley, which at 282 feet below sea level, is the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere. Aren't random facts like that so cool? Yes, they are.

More pictures to come!

Posted by hjw at 6:55 AM | Permalink | Comments

08 March 2007

thoughts on spiritual gifts

Last night we each took a spiritual gifts test at Bible study, and then spent some time sharing about them. It was a fun and fascinating time of discussion and discovery. Some had never taken such a test before, some took tests that confirmed their suspicions, and some had new things show up they hadn’t considered. As we discussed, I realized again how much I enjoy this subject of discovery in our Christian lives. And I have a word to say about spiritual gifts.

I find most of our attitudes about spiritual gifts to be closely tied to our view of ourselves, right down to good old fashioned self-esteem. A couple of things tend to come out of this tie. One reaction is to be unhappy with the spiritual gifts we’ve been given when they don’t seem to be among the loftier gifts more valued in Christian circles (pastor, evangelist, healer). When we discover gifts of hospitality and administration, its easy to feel like a lesser spiritual person. The other reaction, which is quite the opposite, is to feel embarrassed about sharing our gifts if they are of the more supernatural type, such as faith, healing, missionary, or apostle. When people ask, we shrug and say, “Well, the TEST says I’d be a good missionary, but I don’t know ….”

I find both of these reactions inconsistent with what God would have us believe about ourselves. First of all, as we are made in Christ’s image, and we can call ourselves children of God, the King, there should be no doubt that we are loved and valued and worthy, no matter who we are, what we look like, or what our gifts and talents might be. To put it somewhat elementarily, as Christians we have every right to a strong sense of self-esteem and self-confidence. In fact, I think it is part of our calling. We are, each of us, uniquely gifted, uniquely talented, and wholly loved. And so if I discover that I have the gift of administration, I want to embrace that, be thankful for it, and learn to use it to glorify God and his Kingdom. As He has gifted me in that way, I want to honor that gift by using it well.

Second, if we view ourselves the way God does (as much as is humanly possible), we should see something beautiful. God doesn’t view a pastor as more important to His work than the behind-the-scenes administrator of Sunday morning power point. The missionary roughing it out in the jungles of the Amazon is doing work just as important as the guy who fixes fences for his neighbors in need. God made each of us exactly as he planned, and he doesn’t make mistakes or faulty plans. Each of us has a role in the greater work of Kingdom building, and regardless of what God has called us to, it IS important. I feel like I can’t say this strongly enough. He asks us only to be faithful with the one, two, five, ten talents we’ve been given. Use them, grow them, find ways to bless others with the very gifts and talents with which God has uniquely blessed each of us. It is then that we glorify God, which is our chief goal on this earth.

I love that I am uniquely gifted. I used to think I was meant to be a missionary, and probably single, but those turned out not to be my gifts. The more I learn about who I am, and who God has made me to be ... even though its less glamorous than I used to wish ... the more freely and comfortably I live with myself. My role in the greater scheme of things might have a smaller scale impact according to what we can measure here on earth. But if I am following what God has called me to, I am doing something only I can do, and I believe that God is pleased.

Posted by hjw at 10:50 PM | Permalink | Comments

a shocking confession

Sometimes, on warm days, I like to drive with the windows down AND the air conditioning running.

Posted by hjw at 10:12 AM | Permalink | Comments

07 March 2007

the beautiful desert

My low-activity personality is easily overwhelmed with a 40-hour work week, not to mention the other daily demands on my time, ranging from household chores to extracurricular obligations. Sometimes I get to feeling claustrophobic, hurried and harried, there’s too much to do and not enough time to do it, and it seems I have a hard time stopping to just breathe deeply, be where I am. I don’t relax easily.

So I often need a break, a chance to stop and breathe ... and I like to leave home and go camping … this time in Death Valley. I know what you might be thinking … but its not like that. I know not everyone loves the desert. It is definitely a very different kind of beauty than that of most other places. But I love the desert, perhaps partly because it is the exact opposite of that busy feeling with which I am often overwhelmed. Its huge and open, with a big sky. There is nothing to obstruct the view; the eye can see for hundreds of miles. And everywhere you look there is a new kind of beauty to behold. Also, camping itself requires little but eating, sleeping and sightseeing. There’s no schedule, no demands on my time. That freedom, combined with amazing sights to behold, usually results in a truly restful and relaxing weekend.

We truly had a fantastically relaxing weekend. I could have stayed for a month. It just seems easier to breathe in a place like that, easier to relax, to just be, and stand in awe of the grandiosity surrounding me. Four days wasn't nearly long enough.

I haven't had a chance to download my own pictures yet, so there will be more to tell on this subject once that happens. Until then, you can see a few images my dad and my husband captured.

Caleb's Pictures
Dad's Pictures

Posted by hjw at 11:54 PM | Permalink | Comments

my confession

I admit it, sometimes I fantasize about winning the lottery. There was a lot of water cooler talk about it yesterday, with the pot up to $370 million. I even considered actually buying a ticket myself, just because I’m kind of a lemming in situations like that. But in the end, I was too embarrassed by my lottery ineptitude (never having purchased a lottery ticket before), and I passed on that 1 in 168,000,000 chance to win.

But sometimes I think about what it would be like to suddenly have that much money at my disposal. What would I do with it? Well, I know what the initial impulses would be. I would quit my job, buy a house and the 4Runner I've been wanting. And maybe the Astin Martin. Caleb could quit his job, buy his dream computer, and pursue all his artistic dreams without having to worry about how lucrative they would be. We could take vacations wherever we wanted, whenever we wanted. We could buy out REI and have all the ultra light gear we wanted!

And just think about all the money I could give away! There are countless causes out there just waiting for a wealthy benefactor to help them accomplish their altruistic goals, not to mention those everyday opportunities to be generous. That would be so fun.

Although there are fun things I would love to have the freedom to purchase and do, I think the real lure of easy money is the fact that it is easy. Who wouldn't love to suddenly be free from their financial burdens, tight budgets, and having to choose between things we want and things we need?

Its funny, even as I write I keep trying to come up with some deeply profound reason why winning the lottery is bad for me, but I can’t come up with something all that compelling. Yes, we learn great lessons when we have to budget our money, say no to thinks we want, and work hard for our money … but I grew up that way. Surely my lessons are learned and now I’d be one of those wise lottery winners.

Man, I should have bought that ticket.

And yet, I have read that 9 out of 10 lottery winners say it ruined their lives. Though I'd still like to be given the opportunity to find out if I could be that odd 1 in 10, I can easily understand the statistic. When we are given so much something for absolutely nothing, we often don't appreciate it.

I guess a world full of lottery winners might look a lot like a world of Paris Hiltons.

Yikes.

Maybe my lottery ineptitude isn’t such a bad thing.

Posted by hjw at 9:11 PM | Permalink | Comments

my fabulous husband

Last night my husband came home with a hair cut, tickets to Tim Salmon night at the Angels game ... AND FLOWERS! And THEN ... he cleaned the bathroom! He scrubbed the shower and the toilet and the sink and cleaned the mirror. And he did it all out of the goodness of his heart (although there was tiny bit of recommendation when it came to the hair cut). He'll probably be embarrassed that I wrote this down for the world to read ... but sometimes I am still overwhelmed that he exists, and that he's mine.

Posted by hjw at 9:00 AM | Permalink | Comments

01 March 2007

oh to write like Dostoyevsky

One of my favorite novels of all time is Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. It can be laborious to get through, but it is brilliant writing. Brilliant, I tell you! He explores the inner musings of a murderer whose conscience finally gets the better of him. Its a story of depravity and redemption and true love, told in a ... well, a brilliant way.

Sometimes I am intimidated by Dostoyevsky. I'm intimidated by Edith Wharton, Jane Austen, Victor Hugo, Sue Monk Kidd and J.K. Rowling. How do they do it? How do they write people and events so well. How do they weave convoluted tales of complicated three-dimensional people, purely from their imaginations!? I wish I knew.

For I would like to be like them. But I fear I never will be ... and I often find that inferiority complex the very thing that keeps me from writing. Since I will never make Oprah's book club, why should I bother at all? And yet I love to write. I really do. I wish I had more time. This blog has given me an outlet of sorts. But lately I've been really wanting to practice my writing, hone my skills, even take some classes. Perhaps I'm not the author of America's next great novel, but that shouldn't keep me from writing. Its my favorite form of personal expression. In fact, my personality profile even states that I'm likely to express myself more clearly in writing.

So ... I don't know how much my writing here will pick up. But I will never get better if I don't practice, right? And I need to be writing about everything and nothing, see if I can make the everyday interesting, and the truly interesting come to life through words. I appreciate those of you who read this blog ... you motivate me, whether you know it or not. And you never know, maybe one day you'll be able to say, "I knew her when ... " and I'll give you tickets to Oprah the day I'm featured ....

(This weekend we're off to Death Valley for some camping ... I'll check back in next week!)

Posted by hjw at 4:54 PM | Permalink | Comments

East to Weston (the Original)

You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles.