Wherever You Go. . . There You Are

We're on vacation.  An extended one.  The first and perhaps only really long vacation we'll take, because, well, we just don't do that.  This one was planned especially as a celebration of Bruce's retirement.  I had a lot of fun searching out houses and apartments we could rent and take Natalie along both in Minnesota and in the St. Louis area.  And, boy, did I find us a couple of dandies.  Both with views of the water - Lake Superior and the Mighty Mississippi. 

Because we're not staying in hotels, we have had all the comforts of home including full kitchens.  We've eaten out plenty of times, but there are only so many meals you can sit down to in restaurants before they start becoming, well, less-than-special.  So, we've shopped for groceries and cooked which has made mealtime in those cases seem pretty normal, except for the view. 

We've roamed quite a lot, too, exploring some little towns we'd not been to before.  In Minnesota, we experienced Lutsen, Grand Marais, White Bear Lake, and Rochester.  In Missouri, we've discovered Clarksville, Louisianna, Elsberry and Hannibal (as well as some old favorites like St. Charles and St. Louis).  We've walked rocky stretches of beach, two different breakwaters on Superior, a paved path through the north woods, a more rustic trail through another part of them, little town sidewalks and gravel alleys, grassy paths, and the river's ever-changing shoreline.  In all, very reminiscent of what we do at home.

Today, rather than roam, we read.  I finished one novel and started another.  I've had times where I just wanted to sit down and write, too. 

We laugh together about how some people would think our version of vacation is terribly boring.  We laugh at ourselves at how similar to our "real lives" our vacation seems to be.  And then we congratulate ourselves upon the reaffirmation that we are happy people who are happy in their lives together, because it seems that no matter where we go, there we are.  And, we're okay with that.

Shellie

Lilacs and Lake Superior

We're packin' and laundryin' and all sorts of things in eager anticipation of our Minnesota trip.  I can't wait to smell the lilacs; see the lake whether steely gray or brilliant blue; breathe and breathe and breathe that cool and clean air.

In the meantime, my copies of Love Under a Dark Sky have arrived and fellow author and shelf-sister this cycle with Avalon, Sandra Carey Cody, has graciously published an excerpt form my novel on her website.  Appropriately, the scene takes place on the shore of Lake Superior.  It seems Minnesota is my muse.

Sandra Carey Cody is an author whose newest Avalon novel, Left at Oz, is available now.  Check out her site and while you're there, don't forget to look at the Guest Excerpt.

Dream a Little Dream

It's so important to dream dreams together.  When Bruce and I were first married, we had some trouble visioning together (as I'm sure is true with any newly married couple).  I, being the proactive type, tried to force it.  I'd get pencil and paper and suggest we make lists together.  Lists such as:  the top five places in the world you want to see, the top ten places in the United States you'd like to go, states you've already been in, states you've never been in, an event you would like to catch someday.

As I was newly employed as a teacher and fairly buried in student loan debt and as Bruce and Luke had been a single-income family for years, we had very little money to play around with.  Still, my philosophy is that if you don't plan now then you shouldn't expect to accomplish something later on.  Even if it's ten dollars a month stuck away in the sock drawer in an envelope labeled "Paris", it's something toward that dream and you're ten dollars closer every month to seeing it realized.

In our case, "Paris" was Minnesota.  It was do-able.  If we saved back so much each month, we could actually realize a summer vacation the next year.   It was a sacrifice (and still is sometimes even though student loans are all paid off), but putting money back from every paycheck keeps it always in front of us (as do the photos on the screen savers).  We talk about Minnesota all year long.  It's inspiring.  We wonder what Lake Superior looks like in the dead of winter.  We keep our eyes on the webcams in Duluth.  We talk about how good a peanut butter sandwich tastes when eaten at a rest stop in Iowa on the way toward the Minnesota state line or on the way back home.  We mentally stroll the streets, visit the sights, relive and renew the dream together.  The word Minnesota has not only become a common term in our house, it has become a family member.  It's our good friend, our counselor, our financial consultant.  We weigh our desire to take that trip together against any other opportunities that come up and, so far, Minnesota always wins.

If we had taken the same money we've invested in these trips the last five years, we probably would have been able to schedule one dandy tour of Europe by now.  But, I wouldn't trade June in Minnesota  for that.  There are too many memories, too many plans, too many pleasures, and too many dreams still to be dreamed together there.

What are you dreaming up with the one you love?

Random Bursts of Excitement

Last night I saw a news clip about the Aurora Borealis.  I'm hoping so hard that we'll see it this summer, going farther north into Minnesota as we are.  That and a moose - at a distance, mind you.

Those northern lights?  They are kind of like the random bursts of excitement I feel when I realize Love Under a Dark Sky will be out there for people to read in just over a month.  I forget about it because I'm working at Glendale, writing grant applications, trying to build collaborative relationships with colleagues, all the while keeping up housework, menu planning, grocery shopping, yoga practice, and on and on and on.  Then, once in a while, my mind and heart just light up with the realization of the great blessings I've been given and that this, realizing the dream of being a published author, is one.  And I'm renewed.