Brace yourself – I’m about to hit full on hippie chick mode. We’re talking earth loving, birkenstock wearing, find-your-bliss granola girl. (Side note: I readily recognize that my twenty-year-old self would not have understood a word I’m blabbering on about.)
I am so grateful for the glory of this planet of ours. (Yes, I’m horrified by the damage we’re doing, but that’s a post for another day.) We’ve been blessed to visit many different areas of the world, and this week I’m discovering Wyoming.
Apparently many people (or not so many, if you’re into the U.S. census) have already learned what a peaceful and steadying force this amount of nature can be. And by “this amount of nature” I mean a lot of nature. It’s the sort of sweeping geographical scenery that hits you smack dab in the face every time you look out a window or step outside. Wyoming’s all BAM! Here’s the nature. Take that, stressed out people.
You get in your car to drive somewhere, and what’s out there? Land. As far as the eye can see. Surrounded by mountains. Freaking tall and majestic mountains, the kind they write songs about. And the animals are all chill because people aren’t hunting them into extinction, so you get to watch herds of bison meandering, antelopes nibbling grass, and moose being all…moose-y.
Talk about a place where you can really breathe.
I’ve been having great fun with the whole summer travel series this month. I love travel. Or, more accurately, I love visiting other places. The travel itself is simply necessary to the process.
I used to be a better traveler – calmer, less nauseous – more chill all around. Then? Well, then things changed.
I’ve got a wonky sense of humor. Even during the wooshy, man-I-hope-I-don’t-puke feeling during takeoff, turbulence, and landing I still manage to find a few giggle worthy moments during airline travel. The flight attendant’s arrival speech, for one.
THUMP. Thump thump thump thump, shuuuuuuder, whir. Perky voice: “Let us be the first to welcome you to (insert correct city here). Blah blah, blah-dy blah blah. Please use caution when opening the overhead bins as articles may have shifted during flight.”
a) Are there still people unaware that it’s possible a carry on might tumble onto their heads when they open that bin? b) Really, shouldn’t attendants be warning passengers about the risk of getting sued when their carry on tumbles onto someone else’s head from the overhead bin? c) Does this fall under the rule of Darwinism?
We spent four and a half days in the beautiful town of San Francisco. Trolley cars and street cars, the Golden Gate bridge, and yes, even Rice-a-Roni – wait for it – the San Francisco treat!
Just kidding, we didn’t have Rice-a-Roni while we were there, but I’ve got a few observations from our time in the city…
I believe in stepping up and helping out, even when it’s the last thing people expect. I smile at little kids. I help mamas who are juggling grocery carts. I make sure my kiddos don’t stand slack jawed in the midst of a moving crowd.
I figure it’s a cosmic way to balance the scales for all those years when folks stepped in to help me. If I have the time/energy/free hands to help, then it’s just rude not to.
But then there are those other times. Times to butt out. Times when I know the smart play is to shut my mouth and keep my head down.