Memorial Day - Camping in the Valley of Fire

Don't you wish you could balance tent poles on your head? Yeah. Me neither. But Kenz was excessively proud of herself, so we gave her lots of fake praise.

The Valley of Fire is one of my favorite places to camp. It's different, to be sure, than the mountain camping that I'm used to, but this place has so much magic and charm that I can overlook its lack of green and water.

Can you spot the kids in the picture above? We were so lucky to get a campsite with so many fun places to climb and explore.  We almost didn't see the children after we got there - which was unnerving and awesome at the same time because, lots of danger and lots of freedom.

The rocks have so many cracks and tunnels and pockets for them to climb and explore.

And there are no shortage of rocks, so once they've conquered one, they're on to the next.

It gives them such a sense of accomplishment and pride.

Timothy went straight to work cutting our firewood.

And I don't know what it is about nature, but how sweet it is that everyone seems to get along so well once we are there.

Honestly, I talk about it as if it's the kids who love to climb the rocks, and it is, but I love it too.  I remember as a kid traveling down to St. George and climbing all over the red rocks there. I felt I had died and gone to heaven. I'm sure that's what my kids are feeling when they're doing the same thing.

We had good friends go with us - the Bacons came along with all of their family, and then we had Chandler come along with us. Poor Chandler got sick in the night and threw up all over his sleeping bag and hair. We didn't have much to be able to clean it up with, but he was a good sport and assured us over and over that he felt fine and that it was probably just a result from eating too many s'mores.

A Miles sized hole.

It's taken me a little while to appreciate the desert - and I still feel like I have further to go - but being out in the Valley of Fire sure helps that cause. It is truly beautiful to me.

Please come stay awhile!

I know, this is so gross.  We find flies in our pool fence all the time and I never really know what to do with them.  I've ignored them and they seem to disappear eventually.  Maybe the birds get them?  Anyway, that has nothing to do with the rest of this post other than the fact that I took that picture while my brother Brian was visiting us.

Speaking of which, my brother Brian came to visit us!

I've always had a special place in my heart for my brother.  He and I seem to be cut from the same mold.  And even though he is five years younger than me (which felt like lifetimes apart when we were children and teens) he and I always seemed to stand together whenever we siblings paired off in the home.  As much as I loved to stand together with him as a child, I love even more standing together with him as an adult.

He is a hilarious person.  Whenever I see a text from him on my phone, I start smiling before I even open it because I know it's going to make me happier than I already was. Plus, he's so kind and thoughtful. Just last week he landed in the emergency room after eating a hidden walnut and felt terrible that he took up a bed for eight hours when the waiting room was so full.  "I had some IV's going," he told me later, "but I'm sure they could have found one of those wheely things to attach them to, and I could have gone out to the waiting room with it."

We had a water balloon fight, and swam in the pool.  And I totally love this picture.  I told Brian to tuck his legs when he jumped.  Nailed it.

A little bit later, the Paxtons came to visit.  And they brought their dog, Molly.  She was the star of the show for the few days and, I have to admit, for not being a dog person she was actually pretty fun for me to have around, too.

We took her everywhere we went, and she was a happy companion.

Timothy fell in love with her and I felt my heart pulling to get a dog just so I could see that sweet happy face.  But then I remembered that they poop.  So I'll have to think about it again.

We took the Paxtons to see the Hoover Dam and snuck Molly along with us.  Apparently you're not really supposed to bring dogs along on the little hike across the bridge.  But we couldn't leave her in the car, of course, and decided that she was small enough to just carry the whole way.

Then my college roommate came to visit.  I hadn't seen Becky in years... like six of them... and it was a breath of fresh air.  I love Becky.

She's the one who taught me how to listen to my own feelings.  She asked me 'why' when I told her I was frustrated, and she asked me 'how' when I told her I wanted to change something about myself.  Truthfully, I probably couldn't have escape my pensive personality in the long run anyway, but Becky was the catalyst who brought it front and center.  It has made my life richer.  Just like she does.

We went to hang out at the Lake Mead Marina - we ate incredibly greasy french fries that tasted amazing, and a delicious turkey, avacado chicken wrap that I've thought about a few times since.  At the end of our three hour lunch, we asked for ice water to fill our waterbottles and ended up with two full waterbottles and four large plastic cups full of water just for the two of us.  "Geez," Becky said as we loaded our arms, "how much water does one person need?!  Where's the bathroom?"

That night we traveled into town to catch a few shows at the Bellagio, which never disappoints.  We watched four shows before we decided, at 11:50pm, that we should probably start making our way back home.

The next morning we took a tour of the Hoover Dam and watched the water from my waterbottle defy gravity.

Becky is such a happy person for me to hang around!

I absolutely love that Vegas is such an easy place to visit and that I have so many wonderful friends and family who are happy and willing to make the trek. Visitors make me happy.

The Great Ward Party

How many ward parties deserve their own blog post? Seriously, this ward party was that amazing. One of the families in our ward owns an old mine out in the middle of the desert that is about as fun as anything. The Werley Mine, it's called, and as I've gotten to know the Werley's over the last couple of years they have become some of my favorite people that I want to know better.

So when we heard that our ward party was going to be held out there, we jumped at the chance to go.  My brother was visiting at the time, so he tagged along and had a great time, too.

The Werleys have several old fashioned buses that they've gutted and turned into something truly fabulous.

We all took turns going on little rides through the bumpy desert. And, let me tell you, those things can off-road!



No seatbelts, steep climbs, scary descents, and laughter like you wouldn't believe!  After most of the ward went home, a few of us stayed for a VIP tour through the brand new part of their mine that was almost ready to open to the public. First, we piled in the buses and drove to the site which, in my opinion, might have been the most fun of the whole super fun night.

Eventually we veered off road and my already strained ability to take unfuzzy pictures completely disappeared as the bus rocked and jumped and bumped through the roads.

We climbed out of the buses and then down into the mine. 

And then down further into the mine.

We got the stories of how they cleaned it all up and what they found.  We heard the story of the time one of the Werley's flashlights went out as he was clearing a section of the tunnel and he was left in pitch blackness for much longer than he would have liked before one of his sons finally went out looking for him. We stopped at the little underground lake and marveled at the stillness of the water and air around it. We walked alongside the Calverts and since Alan happens to be a bat scientist, we laughed at him as he enjoyed his search for bat dung.

When we got back to the buses it was after dark and we finally made our way home. Tired and happy.

The Man

Me, my handsome man, and my giant bug glasses heading into Lowe's for a bit of a birthday shopping spree.  Which, really, was not a spree at all since we didn't actually buy anything (except a refill of floor cleaner) but felt like a spree because we were looking at carpet and glancing at kitchen cupboards and thinking about paint colors and shelving and molding and fireplace tile and power tools and patio furniture and all the other things a magical place like Lowe's makes one think about.

Once upon a month or two ago it was my birthday, and also March Madness.

So we got all dressed up (Alder style of course) and headed out for a night out on the town.  Brian and his phone took me to the Bellagio Gallery of Fine Art, which I had been eyeing for a year and a half.

It did not disappoint.  Currently, it's featuring an artist by the name of Yousuf Karsh who, if you're like me and not super familiar with things of this nature, is an incredibly accomplished and famous portrait photographer.  He has taken hundreds of portraits of the most famous men and women in the last century.  I wasn't sure how I was going to like the exhibit, to be honest, but it was absolutely incredible.  I don't know how he did it, but his pictures show life and passion.  60 of them are hanging in the Bellagio right this minute.  Pictures of people including Martin Luther King, Jr., Muhammad Ali, Albert Einstein, Audrey Hepburn, Fidel Castro, Helen Keller... it was inspiring.

Then we hung around downtown and ate the "Best Burger in Vegas" which was, I'll admit, a pretty dang good burger.  The best though?  Arguable.

I got lucky, you know.  Of course, at 20 years old I thought I was making a good choice.  I loved him and the future looked bright.  But how could I have known just how well this man would stay by my side and help actively lead our family to Today?  I love you, Bri.  You are a great man.  A great father, an incredible husband, a hard worker, a forgiving partner, and handsome all the way from the inside out.

Because: Friendship

A girl needs friends, you know.
Real friends.
The kind that laugh at your Totally Not Funny jokes,
And cry with your hurting heart.

The kind that can stand with you in comfortable silence as you watch the sea lions on the pier.

Or lie awake with you in the dark of the night to tell you her stories and listen to yours, engaging easily in conversation that finds minutes ticking into hours and more hours until the clock shows a time on its face that you haven't seen in a while.  Those conversations can be life-changing, you know.
Especially if your friend is inspirational.
Or understanding.
Or both.

A girl needs a friend who will get out of the car into the freezing rain with you just to see the ocean.

Or who patiently waits while you stop to capture the beauty of that rain, because she understands deeply enough to know that your desert eyes crave this water.

I miss these ladies with a deep part of my soul.  These are the ladies I met in North Carolina, and many of us built our habits of mothering together.  They were my examples during those crucial, early years when everything about motherhood and running my own family was new and nothing was set.  These are the women who came with suggestions and advice. Strong women who love God and respect people and speak lovingly of their husbands and children even when they admit that times are tough.

Between the countless informal gatherings throughout my nine years in North Carolina, we always met formally, once a month, in what we called Book Club. It was a book club, to be sure... but it was so much more.  It was a night that was so fun and enlightening and therapeutic and deep and rich that we would look forward to it all month, and then stay well after midnight once we were there.

We knew even then that it couldn't last forever... eventually, Time came along and started breaking us apart.  Husbands finished their schooling and relocated all across the country, taking the pieces of our book club with them.

We missed it.  We missed each other and we missed the strength that came when we were together and we couldn't bear the thought of our book club disbanding even though we were scattering across the country.  So, we started a new tradition.

A biennial, destination book club.

Santa Rosa, California was the destination this year. The date was chosen, flights were booked, and dear friends from all around the country began their journeys to a single home.  The green, garden home of Martha.

Five of us (me, along with Melissa, Amy, Cami, and Kim) met in San Francisco a day early and toured the city together.  It was wet.

But we didn't mind. We held our umbrellas and rung our socks at the end of the day.

The five of us booked a small apartment on a steep hill and somehow managed to cram two queen sized blow up mattresses into the cozy living area. They took the entire floor so that there was no path to the bathroom, but pregnant Amy promised that she would try her best not to step on any heads in the middle of the night. We talked and talked and talked that night. The kind that changes you.

The following morning we awoke and got ready for our day while blasting Adele songs from Melissa's phone. It felt like college, but better.  Better because we are better and stronger and wiser than we were then.

It was wet still, but after our morning brunch we walked anyway.  The Golden Gate Bridge still stands in the rain, you know.  Eventually, the four women I was with were ready to travel north up to Santa Rosa, so I stayed behind by myself for an hour to wait for two different friends who were on their own way to Santa Rosa and would soon pass through San Francisco.  I loved the time alone as I often do.

But was thrilled to jump (quickly) into the car when Katie and Cindy arrived (pulled over on the side of a busy road in an area that was obviously not meant for passenger pick up).  We had much catching up to do ourselves, and wasted no time diving into a heart bearing conversation.  The kind that changes you.

We made it to Martha's and spent a delightful day on the rainy, wet beach.

But, as you know, any day on the beach is a great one for me.  Even rainy ones.

And days on rocky beaches?  Even better.

There was one scare when, just after I took the following picture, a wave came barreling in and completely covered the rock I was standing on.  Rocky beaches are beautiful, but they can be a bit scary if you're worried about being carried away into those rocks.  The picture ended up being worth soggy shoes, though.

Part of me wished I had brought my big camera along, but the other part of me was so darn thrilled at the easiness of carrying my camera phone right in my pocket and not worrying about the lenses hitting the jagged rocks, or getting sprayed with ocean water.

Plus, I do love the wide angle my camera phone has. 

I don't have a wide-angle lens, and couldn't really get a shot like this one anyway with my big camera.

I think my favorite scenic part of this vacation was watching the wind spray the water off the crests of the waves.  Apparently that's called spindrift.  

It was a vacation full of beauty.  Beautiful people, beautiful conversations, beautiful scenery, beautiful love.  We spent two nights at Martha's discussing the books we had chosen (Okay, for Now and Boys in the Boat and The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up) and all other things that came to our minds.  And towards the end of the second evening, Melissa pipped up: "I'm not going to bed until someone cries."  We laughed, but it shined a beautiful light into the friendships that we have with each other.  We want to know the good, we want to know the fun and the excitement and the daily events of each others lives... but we also want to know the sad.  The real.  The messy.  We want to know because we care.  "Tell us the last thing you cried about," Melissa continued.

The night did end with some tears.  Some real.

I didn't sleep much for those three days. There was too much to listen to.  Too much to learn, too much to talk about.  Consequently, I came home exhausted. 

But so, so happy.

Until next time Durham Diaspora!

Diaspora: (n) a group of people who live outside the area in which they had lived for a long time.