I have an unhealthy obsession...with my dog

The first step is admitting you have a problem

It's not uncommon for me to refer to my daily events as things "we" did. This causes some confusion with others in my story telling. I have been asked on many occassions who "we" includes. My answer is most always the same: "Oh, that's me and Bracco."

I adopted him a mere 5 months ago and we're attached at the hip. He has playdates with other dogs. He has trashed my car with his long hair and muddy feet. All windows are covered in prints from his big crayon nose. He is hazardous to my driving when he barks at elk and tries to attack (yep, you heard me) EVERY car that passes in the opposite direction (this actually makes me laugh so hard I cry).

Many people my age have spouses and kids or highly demanding careers to occupy their thoughts. I have my boy, Bracco.

I spoil him rotten.

Now that I think about it, I doubt I will ever find a guy who goes to the lengths B does to "save" me from chipmunks (and squirrels and horses and foxes and deer) or have a child that will eat a bumble bee in defense of my honor.

I like to think that he is happy with me. He had kids with his other family and I bet he misses playing with them. In my personification of him though, he's happier overall on the hiking trails and road trips with me.

Boy, do I EVER love my happy, floppy, hairy, protective mutt!

Can you blame me??

Wah Wah Waaaaaahhhh

My first attempt at high altitude baking...kind of a flop.

What I thought would be the most basic place to start, the chocolate chip cookie, has come out flat and tasting kind of caramel-flavored. They are crispy on the bottom but a bit too chewy on the top. I swear I followed the instructions on the back of the tollhouse bag (yep, I'm a back of the bag recipe gal) exactly as written. This leads me to think that either:

A) The high-altitude stuff will take some getting used to

B) The oven in my new apartment is somehow broken, showing favoritism to only cookie bottoms

C) I went too far in adding a small amount of oatmeal (so maybe I didn't follow directions exactly)

D) Something was amiss with one or some of my ingredients. Anyone out there used Lucerne butter?

E) The education system has failed me and I can't read

The great thing about cookies, however, is that it doesn't REALLY matter their texture. As long as there's an ample amount of chocolate, they will be consumed.

At any rate, I work at a camp. There are many here who I'm sure I could convince to eat one of my less-that-stellar cookies.

Adventures in a New Town: Finding a Church

As you may have been able to tell, I had a few "pity me" days last week. Can you blame me? I mean how can one grow up in a pretty cool town, surrounded by encouraging, wonderful people and NOT miss it upon departure? There are a lot of things that make living in a new place difficult. Many of them are small, insignificant details like figuring out where to register my car or where to get the best deal on peanut butter. A few of them are more important though and require a bit more work.

After three weeks of just resting in my new place, I decided it was time to make a greater effort in finding a church. Although one may not recognize it from the last few years of my life, I do think having a church is important. I have always found comfort in being part of and giving back to that type of community. And now, after hitting the "Start Over" button on the game of my life, I am seeking community anywhere I can find it, hardly patient enough to allow time for cultivation.

When I was in college, each year was designated a theme by administration. The theme would be discussed in freshman orientation classes and would provide the basis for conversation in small groups, chapel services and class lecture. I don't remember many of these theme questions but I do remember the year of "What is community?" I'm going to worry about unpacking this question at a later date but here's what I've learned about MY community as it relates to church.

Stepping in to Winter Park Christian Church seemed safe enough. I had pretty much just Googled Grand County churches and picked the one that seemed safest. I mean if a church's only denominational proclamation is "christian," I figured I could handle it. I was greeted warmly by the pastor and several others in the small Saturday night congregation. The music was acoustic, subtle and honestly, a nice change from many of the more "rock-n-roll" sounding services I've been to. Then.....the pastor spoke......

The sermon was allegedly on Psalm 127 but really had NOTHING to do with what was written on the page of the Bible. In the first ten minutes, this pastor managed to sit in and vocalize severe judgement of those who are homosexual, divorced and those who co-habitate before marriage. I am none of these things and I wanted to walk out then and there. I was so furious that this man could turn a section of the Bible into his political platform...and that people were listening to it! And I couldn't help but wonder how this could possibly be the second largest church in this transient, ski bum, alcohol-obsessed community. I wish I was kidding when I tell you this guy actually used the "Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve" line. ARRGGGGH! All I could think about was all of the people who I know who would hear a message like this and IMMEDIATELY, WITHOUT HESITATION, walk away, taking it as the Christian opinion.

Now, let me just say that I am not one to debate the teachings of any religious text. It may seem safe, but I plead ignorance respect and love above all doctrine and scriptural detail. To me being in any community is just loving people, not judging people. I managed to sit (quietly, although there were points I wanted to stand up and challenge him) through the end of the service. By the end of the evening, the pastor had made one or two redeeming statements and I had quite a nice conversation with one woman. A Nebraskan...go figure! I may go back again as I don't feel entirely comfortable judging this (or any) church based on one message but let me tell you, I will not be walking in objectively. I left that service wracked with guilt over things I've never done and I HATE when I feel like I could never take a friend to a church. A church should be THE most welcoming place in any community, not the most condemning. To be honest, I was disheartened to think that all of the churches out here would be like this. That I'd never find a place that preached love above all else.

Then, this morning, I went to the small chapel on the YMCA campus where my friend, Steve, is the chaplain. There were maybe 15 people in attendance and most of them were seasonal staff members but let me tell you, there was more love and community building happening in that one room chapel! Steve's message was all about loving EVERYONE and challenging us, as Christians, to show love at all costs, not sit in judgment. Ahhhhhh, sweet relief!

I will probably continue to check out other churches in the area, but I have a feeling I will end up back here at the Y where I started. Anyone, preacher or otherwise, who can challenge and inspire me to be a better person, to call me to the action of giving, serving and loving, is someone who I want to have in my life. Those are people I want to have in MY community.

In writing this, I realize that there may be some that have strong opinions about what I've said here. I hope you'll realize that this blog is just a partial glimpse of how I feel about one aspect of one thing and that this is my forum for processing.

Real Chick's Hike

..because real chick's hike and hiking is for REAL chicks...

Today is the first time since I moved (ahem, not that long ago) that I am missing Omaha. Maybe it's because I've been here long enough now that I'm realizing this is more than a vacation. Perhaps it's because all of my former co-workers just got to spend the last four days being their incredible selves together at a manager's meeting...without me. Or it could just be the longing to fit in here the way I felt I did back home, with my people, in my job, in my town. Life's curve balls always seem to come just as you find your stride. Some might say, just as complacency hits.

Tonight though, more than anything, I am thinking about Real Chicks.

Two and a half years ago, I started a women's hiking group in Omaha, the Real Chick's Hike. The first hike was comprised of five women, three of which I was related to. Having been the only woman on many an outdoor adventure and having heard countless females torn between their fears, finances and obligations and their desire to spend time outside, I had a vision for this group. We hiked once a month, always the third Saturday, and it was to be accessible to ANY woman who wanted to be there and the group would be there to empower ANY woman to get outside. Before long our group of 5 became a consistent 12, then 20, then almost 30 hikers a month. My email interest list grew to over 250. It became almost a movement in Omaha. Women responded to this idea in a way I had dreamed about but never actually considered a reality.

Two and a half weeks ago, I had to say goodbye to this amazing group of women. As we celebrated our time together on the trail and over a few (errr) glasses of wine, laughing and talking and genuinely connecting with one another, I realized that these women, this group, would be the thing I would miss most in Omaha. (Disclaimer: family and best friends are always present in one another's journey so I try not to think about them as being "gone") I learned more about myself in being around this strong, diverse group of women than I ever could have imagined. And they saw more in me as their leader and friend than I ever would have discovered on my own. At some point, Real Chick's stopped being mine and became theirs. They had ownership in it, loyalty to it and strength in each other. It was/is it's own entity and community, with or without me.

On my last hike, which was also my last official day in Omaha, they surprised me with personal and thoughtful gifts. I showed up to hike and they presented me with a "Property of the Omaha Police Department" t-shirt (I have many cop hikers...they're very protective) and an apron (another story on why it was an apron) that they had had embroidered with the Real Chick's logo and that each person present had signed messages onto. It is probably one of the most meaningful gifts I've ever received.

This group and these women have changed my life. I am a better person for having spent time on the muddy, icy, rocky trails with them. For getting up early, even after late nights, and sloughing through deep snow, bugs, rain and countless sunny mornings. For listening to their life stories and telling them mine. For teaching them gear and allowing them to teach me...well, a million things. I have met their families and they showed up to my going away party. I would go so far to say that they ARE my family. And now that I am starting (or trying to) a new life in a new town, feeling a bit lost and out of place, those written words of encouragement speak to me daily. They remind me that I am capable of doing amazing things if I am patient enough to let them be developed.

There aren't enough words to thank each of them for being part of my life but for those Real Chicks who find themselves reading this,

THANK YOU!

Needless to say, I will be making a point to always come back to Omaha on the third Saturday of a month and in the mean time, every glass of wine I drink will be in toast to Omaha's REAL CHICKS!