I've been thinking about summer...

... because it's been in the 70's all week here in Denver. It's frisbee, bikeriding, barbeque weather. Usually at this point, I begin thinking of all of the places that I want to travel this summer, about putting my skiis back in the storage bin, and buying a plane ticket(s). But for whatever reason, I don't feel that way right now. I want to stay home for the summer, enjoy Colorado, be still. I made a list of things that I'd like to do in the upcoming months. The order doesn't necessarily reflect the priority, they're just my thoughts...

1) Hike 14ers

2) Climb the dunes and see Durango

3) Walk around the lake in Wash Park

4) Write

5) Swim in a mountain lake

6) Photograph a ghost town

7) Walk to Coors field after church and eat ballpark hotdogs for lunch

8) Take Grace to the zoo

9) Ride my bike

10) Enjoy Happy Hour on a roof top

11) Finally buy a field guide and learn the names of the CO wildflowers

12) Read a book under the tree in my yard, while lying on my stadium blanket



Most of all, be still.

Lake Victoria

There is no sound in all the world, more precious to my ears, than the laughter of a child.

Streets of London

January 18th-22nd, 2009

Our apartment in St. James Park is on a street called Palmer. There are two pubs on this street, Adam & Eve and the Sanctuary House. My experience of London pubs was limited, thanks to gluten, but the ambiance is exactly as you would imagine.

AtAdam & Eve I sampled my first "Jacket" - baked potato with melted cheese and pinto beans. The Sanctuary House is where we celebrated the Inaugeration and indulged in some Brittish pies - chicken with white wine sauce. The Britts seemed to be excited about the Obamas taking up residence in the White House.

At the end of Palmer Street, there is a very large church...

Westminster Abbey. I didn't go in,
as they charge 18 pounds to enter The idea of having to pay to go inside a church just doesn't sit right with me. Besides, the building has probably not changed since I was 12, seeing as how the place has been there for 800 years.

We walked past Big Ben, Parliament, and the Millenium Ferris Wheel.

In Trafalgar Square, I found the National Gallery. I toured galleries of 15th CenturyMadonnas, soldiers, cupids, and nudes, finally finding my Impressionists. I viewed Monet's beginning works, and watched his style evolve throughout his life. I gazed at Van Gogh originals, and wondered how many notecards, mugs, and tote bags have bourne the image of that Sunflower... how many hundreds of times have I seen that image? Yet in the oil on canvas before me, I could make out the individual strokes... delight.

From there, I went on to the National Gallery where the Annie Lebovitz exhibit was on display. I declined to spend the 11 pounds as I had already seen the exhibit in San Diego for $5. On the third floor, in the Parliament Room, I found one of my heroes, William Wilberforce, half completed by Sir Thomas Lawrence. Lawrence had died before he could finish painting Wilberforce's jacket and hand. As I gaze at the portrait, I recognize in Wilberforce's eyes, an intelligent compassion that is completely familiar to my senses. I am reminded of the heart of Jesus. How did Lawrence get it so right? I made a print of the painting and brought it home.

Heather is the master of the London tube system... we found our way to Covent Garden... a brick street and an outdoor market - art, earrings, handbags, hats, teddy bears wearing Brittish flag T-shirts. We watched a man ride an 8-foot tall unicycle while juggling two knives and an apple. He made 23 pounds in a half an hour - not a bad gig. In Covent Garden we found two Indian restaurants, Chowki (Monday eve) and Punjab (Wednesday). Pumpkin curry, samosas, and cheese naan, all with red wine. The Dining Bar just hit the ceiling. And I must mention the treasure of CG... Monmouth coffee. One taste of that and I am convinced that less is more.

We took our afternoon tea at the Caddigan Hotel at Knight's Bridge Stop. Scot sat this one out.

It was an afternoon "Low" tea. I learned that the High and Low adjectives for tea have nothing to do with one's place in society, or with the time of day at which tea is taken. "High" and "Low" simply describe the height of the table upon which you take your tea. Heather's was a white afternoon, and mine, a Moroccan mint. We had sandwhiches of cucumber, turkey, roast beef and egg salad. And then three teers of scones, chocolate truffles, strawberry fruit tarts, and cream with raspberry cordial. I decided not to eat for the rest of the day. That lasted about 6 hours.

At St. Paul's Square, we parted ways for a few hours. I went in search of Roman ruins, of which I found one, a piece of the wall that was the border of Londonium. I collected my thoughts on paper at a small cafe where I discovered that adding two teaspoons of sugar makes the perfect cappucino.

London holds a great deal of nostalgia for me, and I often feel my sixth sense kick in... yes, I have been here before. And it's true... my earliest memories in life, are of riding in a yellow back- pack on my father's shoulders, looking up on buildings that have looked down on centuries.

And walking the crowded streets of London, I taste swiss cheese, and my mother reaches up to hand me another piece. My jacket is blue and furry around the the hood. People wear black coats, don't smile much, and say the word "bloody" a lot. I look down at Mom, with her dark black hair, in her plaid bell bottoms and tan jacket. I ask her,

"Mommy, why does my cheese have wholes in it?"

"All swiss cheese has wholes, Rachel."

"Oh."

And swiss has never tasted so good... while walking the streets of London.

I love this...

We sang this yesterday. It's not your typical advent song, but I could sing it every day of the year...

How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
in a believer's ear
It soothes his sorrow, heals his wounds
and drives away his fear.

It makes the wounded spirit whole
and calms the troubled breast.
'Tis manna to the hungry soul
and to the weary rest.

Dear name, the Rock on which I build,
my shield and hiding place,
my never ending treas'ry filled
with boundless stores of grace.

Jesus, my Shepherd, Brother, friend,
my prophet, priest and King,
my Lord, my life, my way, my end,
accept the praise I bring.

-Newton/Moore.

Gratitude...

Is it a state of mind and heart? I think so. I was recently reminded by a friend of mine, of the importance of recognizing and giving thanks, while at the same time, presenting my requests to God. It's interesting (and humbling) how priorities play out in my mind... I always think first about those things that I need or desire... Lord, please protect us while we are in Uganda, please save Detroit and the 3 million people who might be without jobs, please help my Mom to get well, please help my sister with her presentation today, and Dear God, please bring more snow. What I need and what I want, always come first.

Now I've probably heard this phrase a million times from people: "I am waiting for God to show up" or "I prayed that God would show up." Could it possibly be that God has always been right in the middle of the place where He is desired to show up? Could it be that I cannot see Him, because my tunnel vision of what I need and want is blocking my ability to see Him? Perhaps He is right beside me, He is right in the middle of the mess in Detroit, He is taking care of my Mom. When I go to Him with a heart of grattitude and begin to recognize and give thanks for every gift that He has given to me, and to the people that I love, it's amazing how quickly He "shows up." And then I am reminded that He has always been there... I am the one who has "shown up."

I made a list of 100 things that I am thankful for, just in this past year... it's amazing what begins to come to mind, when I open my heart up and receive the gift of gratitude, that comes only with His help.

My Furry Friends

I guess that in the grand scheme of things, a pet allergy isn't that bad - I'm trying to keep things in perspective. I was twenty years old when I developed my cat allergy and dogs were soon to follow. Until then I could snuggle with the barn kitties and hold Lady Jane like a baby. Those days quickly came to an end when my airway began to constrict and my eyes teared up.

The other night I was over at a friend's pad and he has this fat, fluffy kitty, and I couldn't help myself... I had to pet the little guy. I rubbed his soft belly as he rolled around on the floor. By the time I got home, my eyes were itching, and when I woke up the next morning, my right eye was swollen shut. Bad move, Rache. Oh, but I just couldn't help myself!

My reaction to kitties is by far the worst. Dad never let us have cats growing up simply because he hates them. I think his hatred is due to the fact that when he was three years old and his family lived on the farm, his kittens liked to sleep next to the tires of Grandma's car, it was warm there... you can figure out the rest. So no cats for the Cieslak girls. We always looked forward to farm days when we could play with the barn kitties. Dad did get us bunnies, and eventually a Border Collie, Lady.

Mom says that my very first word was not "Mama" or "Papa", it was "Dog." She would take me for walks and I would yell "Dog!" every time we would see one or hear a dog's bark. So I am both innately, and by default, a dog lover.

The take home message... Benadryl is a wonderful creation.

Thanksgiving and Migraines

I usually hop out of bed and begin my day running... I've had more than a full plate lately, with preparations and research for Uganda, writing every chance I can get, rearranging the schedule to accomodate trips to the High Lands, and reading my new fav "The End of Poverty." Oh, and did I mention that I still work full time? Work has been a bit of an afterthought lately.

I don't have time for migraines. There's too much life going on. But the reality is, they happen, and I've tried everything... mega hydration, prevention with diet, increased intake of soy, more sleep, scheduled relaxation, massages, prayer and meditation, caffeine and chocolate, light in moderation. No bueno.

This morning I dragged myself out of bed in a migraine hangover. Those of you who have had a migraine attack, know what I'm talking about! It took me two hours and two cups of coffee to get going this morning. I have decided to take my wholistic self to the traditional MD and get some amo to blast these headaches back to where they belong. Nuff said.

Okay, so every Thanksgiving for the past three years, I have spent the day with my friends from high school (who now live here in Denver). We have a very non-traditional holiday. Probably the most traditional part of it, is the NFL. Scot makes a to-die-for vegetarian stuffing, a free-range-organic turkey, and the newest addition... chocolate martinis. What a celebration! For me, Thanksgiving is one of the best days of the year... because I love eating, but more so, it is the gift of being with people that I call family, and celebrating all that is good, and the One who has given us the good. I can't wait!

Scot always closes the Thanksgiving invitation with this quote (it makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time!) Those of you who know me well, know the burden that I feel for the plight of native americans.

"I celebrated Thanksgiving in an old-fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land" - John Stewart.