Pura Vida - Part 6

The Ones Left Behind - Part 6 of 6

As I conclude the series on our adventures in Costa Rica, I'd be remiss if I did not mention the kids who were left behind. Isaiah and Eli both stayed here in Billings and worked. This is not terribly exciting, and I point it out only because not all parents could leave their teenage kids home alone for two weeks and know they would be absolutely fine. Isaiah and Eli are both independent and responsible. I appreciate their maturity. I appreciate them.

Then there is Seth. As I said earlier, Seth stayed in Utah with Shulamith and Mathew. Words are not sufficient to express my gratitude to them for keeping him all that time. They are, after all, still newlyweds. Seth is a wonderful kid, but he is full time energy and can be a bit, uh, demanding? We joked with Shulamith and Matt that keeping Seth for nine days would be great birth control. In all seriousness, however, there is no way we could have made this trip without their help.

And for Seth, it was not simply a place to stay while Mom and Dad were away; it was a vacation to top all vacations. Getting to spend nine whole days with "Yes Man" (which is what he calls Matt because Matt tells him yes, when everyone else tells him no) was in Seth's words "amazing." Matt taught him to play wall ball and the ukulele. They took him swimming, camping, to restaurants, to the water slides, and to movies. They took him fishing (something we don't do in our family), and he caught, cleaned, cooked, and ate his very own fish! And every night, after Shulamith was fast asleep, Matt would get up and come out and play video-games with Seth until the wee hours. Do you think Seth was even slightly interested in coming back to Billings with his parents?

Alas, those are the ones who were left behind, and here ends my series on Costa Rica. I'm sure there are other things to tell that I have forgotten, but this will be all for the time being.

So one final time: PURA VIDA!

Pura Vida - Part 5

Food and Fun - Part 5 of 6
It seems my previous posts in this series are causing some people to cross Costa Rica forever off their list of possible future vacation spots. I thought I'd better switch it up and say something positive, and there is really much to say. The very best thing about Costa Rica is that I was able to eat the food there without getting sick. Maybe that doesn't sound too amazing to you, but trust me, it made our travels more tolerable than either of my former Latin American experiences. I ate whatever I wanted: hamburgers, pizza, fries, chicken, steak, shrimp, eggs, as well as the traditional Costa Rica meal, the casado. A casado consists of rice; beans; beef, chicken or fish; potatoes; and often fried plantains (sort of like fried bananas). I ate all this stuff and never once felt even the slightest bit nauseous. Oh happy day! I can't say the food was wonderful, but it was good enough. They don't have true Diet Coke there, just this other weird stuff called "Coca-Cola Light," which tastes much like regular Coke, so horrible. I drank bottled water the whole week and praised myself for being so healthy.

This photo is the view from our room in Santa Teresa. You can see the very top two steps of the notorious hill. We could lie in bed in our open air room and look out at the lush, green forest. You can't tell from this picture, but we could also see parts of the ocean between the trees. It was very beautiful. The room was perfect once we rented an ATV to navigate up and down the hill. If you decide to stay at Gumbo Limbo, budget an ATV for every day you are there. This room also included its own dog. Remember, everyone in Santa Teresa has dogs. Our first morning, I was somewhat startled when I awoke and swung my feet off the bed and felt fur under them. After that, I was fine. This dog stayed with us the entire week. We assume she went down the hill during the day to be fed, but she was always waiting for us when we returned, wagging her tail in delight, and she slept in our room every night.

In addition to riding the ATV around town, we also went horseback riding one day which was quite fun. And we spent hours walking on the beach and playing in the ocean. I love to jump the waves, but the Pacific Ocean in my home state of Oregon is so cold that generally, it's not worth it. I'm a fair-weather wave jumper; I don't like to be cold. The ocean in Costa Rica was so warm that I spent a goodly amount of time in it. My favorite activity of all, though, was zip-lining on the canopy. I wish we had gotten some pictures of that. One line was called Superman, because we were literally horizontal as we flew through the sky. Mmmmm!

So you really shouldn't let our adventures dissuade you from visiting Costa Rica. It is a breathtakingly beautiful country, and the people are most gracious. And the food doesn't make you sick. Win/win!

.................................to be continued.......................

Pura Vida - Part 4

A Nightmare Worse Than Any Tick - Part 4 of 6

And if a tick wasn't enough of a nightmare, let me backtrack to our travel from Alajuela to Santa Teresa. Before I begin, I should probably say that our first two days in Costa Rica were really great. The first day we went on a canopy tour (zip lining) which was way, way fun. I loved it and can't wait to do it again sometime. That night we went to the San Jose Temple which was also lovely, that is once the taxi driver found it. You see, they don't use normal addresses. Instead, they indicate where things are located in relationship to where other things are located. Gerald told the taxi driver, "We want to go to the Mormon Temple, 600 meters west of the Marriott Hotel." That would have worked great if the taxi driver had any idea where the Marriott Hotel was. He didn't. Ultimately, we made it there and back again, but the next day, well, let me just start at the beginning.

People in Costa Rica, it seems, never care about getting paid. You know how here in the U.S. when you eat at a restaurant, before you've even taken your final bite, the server is practically jumping into your lap, handing you the bill and blathering, "I'll be your cashier when you're ready!" In Costa Rica, not so much. You have to beg for your bill. So the morning we were to leave Alajuela to catch the bus on the way to the ocean, I was scurrying around trying to eat the continental breakfast and pay my hotel bill. The host at the hotel had a different idea: "Relax," she admonished. "You are on vacation." Okay, fine. I will try to relax. Finally, she got around to taking my credit card to pay for our room, and we hopped a taxi to the bus station. And you guessed it. We missed our bus. By exactly ten minutes. Seriously. When would the next bus leave? In 2-1/2 hours. So we sat in the bus station for 2-1/2 long hours. One hundred fifty minutes. Ugh!

Finally, we boarded the bus and thought our troubles were behind us. About five seconds on this bus and I remembered vividly why I don't like traveling in Latin America. Their road conditions are so horrible and their buses so old and rickety that I get a headache within the first half hour. I like roller coasters; really I do. I like them because they last maybe 45 seconds. "Whew! That was SO fun! Do I want to do it again? Maybe one more time." But riding a bus that feels like a never-ending roller coaster for hours on end, bouncing and jarring up and down, side to side, relentlessly, isn't quite my idea of pleasant.

Shaken and jarred, we arrived at the ferry terminal where we were to ride the ferry one hour on our way to the ocean. Care to guess by how many minutes we missed that ferry? Yep, exactly 10! Care to guess how long before the next ferry? FOUR HOURS. I'm not exaggerating. Gerald, am I exaggerating? No, I'm not. Incredibly, though, I was still holding up fairly well. It helped immensely that there was a gentle rainfall that evening. I walked around the little town and felt the rain. I was happy. Mostly I was happy to be off that stupid bus, but I was happy. We ate at a restaurant and talked with a German couple. It was all good.

That is until we had to board the next bus after the ferry ride. Same story with this bus, only this time it was dark. What is it about dark that makes everything more unsettling? I was tired too, so much more tired than on the first bus ride. My attitude was deteriorating. Fast. After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was probably a couple of hours, the bus simply stopped. Right out in the middle of the rain forest, it stopped. Ahead was a washed-out bridge, and the bus could go no further. We all had to get off, gather our luggage, and carry it around the washed-out bridge in the mud. How do you think my attitude was faring now? Whatever you're thinking, I'm sure it's worse. Then...then! There was a bus up ahead that was already filled to capacity, but they made all of us from the first bus pile on anyway, and off we went.

More bouncing and jarring, only this time we were standing on a bus, packed in like proverbial sardines. And I somehow got separated from Gerald. I could see him up ahead, but several people separated us, all speaking Spanish. I don't speak Spanish. I was so tired, so muddy, and so hungry, and I couldn't understand a thing people were saying. "Know signs" appeared occasionally. I should explain that "know signs" are what we call mileage signs because they let you "know" how much farther you have to go. My grandma and I decided this when I was a very young child, and nothing will ever change it because I loved her, and she loved me. One know sign read "Santa Teresa - 15 km." Their know signs totally lie. It does not take an hour to go 15 km, even on a stupid bus.

By the time we reached Santa Teresa, it was 9:30 p.m. Almost everything there closes at 9:00, but we found a grocery store and called a taxi to take us to our hotel. The taxi driver loaded all our luggage into the trunk and asked Gerald where we were going. "Gumbo Limbo Hotel," Gerald told him. "Ah, no, this taxi can't go there. That hotel is way too high up a steep hill. You need 4-wheel drive." ARE YOU KIDDING ME? So they sent another taxi with 4-wheel and charged us $10 just to drive up a hill. And what a hill it was! When we were looking at hotels online, this one looked especially wonderful, but it did warn that one needed strong legs because it was on a hill. "No problem, " I thought. "I'm in excellent shape. I do P90X. Duh."

And it's probably thanks to Tony (P90X trainer) that I could even climb the hill at all, but it was crazy. Like 1/2 mile straight up a rocky, muddy road. Gerald guesses around 400 feet of elevation, which, by the way, is more than the tallest building in all Montana! Strong legs needed? Ya think? Now it would make sense if our story ended here, right? We reach the top of the hill, check into our nice room, get some dinner, and relax. Oh no, not quite. The taxi could only take us to a certain point, where the road ended and the stairs began, log/mud stairs. We had to walk those stairs in pitch black. Apparently, electricity is quite expensive in Costa Rica, so they just don't use it. It was so dark! We were stumbling around dragging our suitcases behind us, tripping over things in the pitch black, animal noises everywhere. I felt like I was in a horror movie.

We could tell there was a hotel there, only because Gerald found a flashlight, but no one was in it. By this point I was done. So done. I sat on my suitcase and cried. Leaving me in total darkness in the middle of the rain forest, Gerald took the flashlight and went looking for signs of life...human life. There was plenty of non-human life around, trust me. He eventually found a door and knocked on it. An older man (60ish) came out wearing only a towel. He told Gerald that the hotel owner expected us five hours earlier (Really? Cause that's what we expected too), so he left when it got to be 10:00. The man had a key to our room, and he let us in. I crashed on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. I'm sure the man thought I was insane, and do you think I cared?

After all this, it occurred to us that we were still starving, but that nothing was open down in town, even if we had the energy to walk all the way down that hill and then climb back up, which we didn't. So we went to bed without dinner.

We had other challenges during our time at the ocean, but nothing remotely close to the events of this particular day; even the encounter with the tick didn't come close. Pura Vida!

.........................to be continued........................

Pura Vida - Part 3

Once upon a time - Part 3 of 6
Once upon a time, a man and his wife went to Costa Rica. After spending five nights at the ocean in a little town called Santa Teresa, they rode a bus back to Alajuela in preparation to fly home to the U.S. the following day. While riding the bus, the wife said to her husband, "You have a sore in the corner of your eye. It's a deep red." The man looked in the mirror and saw it for himself but thought little of it. The following morning, he decided to attempt to pick the scab off the sore. As he tried to do this, he noticed tiny moving legs attached to the sore and exclaimed, "This is not a sore; this is some sort of insect, and it's alive!"

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. Are you grossed out yet? Because the wife was totally grossed out. She no longer cared to help the man rid himself of this "sore," so he had to go find someone who would. It was apparently so firmly attached to the man's skin that pulling on it with tweezers was ineffective. He found a woman native to the area who identified the insect as a tick. Yuck! She skillfully removed it from the corner of the man's eye, and he was profoundly grateful. The grossed-out wife was thankful too.

The couple returned happily to the United States where the man began reading about the many horrible diseases carried by ticks. Paranoia began to set in. Wisely, the man decided to go to the doctor, who basically told him to wait and see if any symptoms of disease show up. So far, they have not.

The couple knows one thing for sure: It's a very good thing it was the man who got the "sore" in his eye, rather than the wife. A very good thing indeed. Pura Vida!

.......................to be continued....................................

Pura Vida - Part 2

All Things Living - Part 2 of 6

You can't really talk about Costa Rica without a focus on the incredible plant and animal life. We were there during rainy season, which was perfect for me because rain is my absolute favorite weather. I long almost daily for the rain in my home state of Washington, so I was delighted to travel during the rainy season. As a result, the vegetation was beyond amazing, acres of lush, green plant life everywhere. Gerald said the huge leaves on the trees reminded him of a Jurassic Park movie. I agree.

Then there were the flowers. See this red flower? These were everywhere. So pretty! Now as you already know, my skill set is woefully limited. We've already established that I can't cook, sew, knit, do crafts, play musical instruments, sing, or play sports. Okay let's add gardening to that list. I have no clue about that either. I can identify exactly three flowers: a rose, a daisy, and a carnation. Oh wait...after living in the beautiful Skagit Valley for eleven years, I also recognize a tulip. That's it. So this pretty red flower is a total mystery to me. Come on you flower experts, help! Can you tell me what this is?

Animal life was also abundant in the rain forest. But DO NOT FEAR. You are all my friends, so I know you are worrying already about the possibility of those long, scary creatures of which I am horribly phobic. It's all good. We saw none of those awful things. We did see some of their relatives, small lizards and larger iguanas. One lizard even made its home attached to a wall of our hotel room (yes, on the inside!). We had an open air room, so he or she could come and go at will. Do I love these things? Ah....no. Can I tolerate them? Barely. There were also several different types of monkeys around, although except for one dead one (sad) by the side of the road, we didn't actually see any. But we heard them! Every morning, we awoke to the sound of the Howler Monkeys serenading us from the trees. But most beautiful of all were the colorful butterflies: positively radiant!

Lastly, I will discuss chickens and dogs. Now why would I do that? How exotic are chickens and dogs? Not very. However, to see free-range chickens wandering around town was, well, unusual? And the dogs? All I can say is "Trudy, you should never go to Santa Teresa, Costa Rica." To clarify, my friend Trudy hates dogs. With a passion. And they were everywhere in this town. Seriously, everyone owns a dog. All the restaurants are open air just like our hotel room, and literally every single one had a dog in it. And I'm pretty sure they were all on drugs. I mean really, what is the one thing constantly on all dogs' minds? Food. Am I right? So here were these dogs lying around in restaurants seeming to take no notice whatsoever that food was being cooked and served. They didn't beg. They didn't bark. They rarely even got up. Drugged dogs.

I left out just one animal because it warrants a post all its own. That one will come next.

All things living. There were most certainly other animals dwelling in the rain forest, whose sounds I did not recognize. I suspect that's just as well. Pura Vida!

....................to be continued.................................

Pura Vida - Part I

An Introduction - Part 1 of 6

Several times before, during, and after our recent trip, people have asked us, "Why Costa Rica?" We then explain about Gerald's Spanish language website, his desire to improve his language ability and to experience the culture first hand, his interest in Latin American countries, etc. So I thought that as an introduction to this series, I would outline the history of these trips over the past 20 years. You are welcome to come along for the ride.

1990
In the summer of 1990, we left Luke and Shulamith with my mother and traveled with friends to Mexico City and Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. This was my first time outside the U.S./Canada, and I don't suppose I was fully prepared for it. I was unprepared for the overall conditions there: the incredible poverty, the broken roads, the decrepit bathrooms, the sweet children begging in the streets. On top of all that, although I tried to be ever so careful about everything I ate and drank, I was sick within the first 24 hours. Gerald and our friends were sick as well, only they could take the excellent anti-sickness medications we brought with us. I could not. At the time, I was beginning to suspect I might be pregnant although I didn't know for sure. All that good medicine is contraindicated in pregnancy, so I couldn't take the risk. Good thing, too, because indeed, about 8 months after we returned, our little Isaiah was born. (Note, this means that, aside from everything else, I was also a mass of raging hormones the whole time we were there).

So yeah, I was pretty miserable a lot of the time. I do have a couple good memories of that trip. I remember our friend Rebecca ordering food in restaurants but never ordering what was listed on the menu. She always asked for something else, and most of the time, she got it! I also remember the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the hundreds of people walking on their knees on dirt roads and then hot pavement just to see it. As we stood and looked out at the crowd, it was like a sea of black hair progressing slowly forward toward the Shrine. I was, and still am, so impressed by the immense dedication of these people to their faith.

After that trip, however, I succeeded in keeping myself happily pregnant or busy raising little ones, so travel to these third-world countries was not an option for me. :-)

1995
In 1995, Gerald traveled to Guatemala for a two-week intensive Spanish course. To be perfectly honest, I know very little about that trip. I know he visited a place called Quetzaltenango and liked it there. I know he got an abscessed tooth and had to have it pulled. I know he came home wearing a big hat. That's really all I remember. I was pretty much occupied at home caring for our children ages 10, 9, 4, and 2.

2000
In 2000, when Seth was just a month old, Gerald took our oldest son Luke to Peru. Shulamith and I stayed home to care for the two little boys and our brand new baby. Again, I don't know much about this trip, other than that they went to the temple in Lima where Gerald attended a session while Luke did proxy baptisms in a font filled with ice-cold water. I have often wondered whose bright idea it was for Gerald to leave the country when I had a newborn baby. I still can't answer that other than to say that the "bright idea" wasn't all that bright.

2005
As 2005 approached, and Gerald was once again itching to travel in Latin America, he began to explore the idea of me going with him. Hmmm. Was I pregnant? No. Did I have very young children? Well, Seth was five, so not really. Shulamith was coming home for the summer following her first year at Westminster, so she would be here with the three boys ages 14, 12, and 5. It had been 15 years since my one and only visit to Latin America. Was I ready to try it again? Sure. We went to Ecuador. I'm embarrassed to say I don't really remember much about this trip either, which is somewhat pathetic because this time, I WAS THERE! I remember going to the equator which was sort of fun. I got sick right away from the food, but this time, I could take Imodium, so that was better, but as you know, I live to eat. And when I'm on vacation, that is more true than ever. So no, it's no fun to feel nauseous on vacation. I remember that both Gerald and I took Spanish lessons and that I learned a lot.

2010
Which brings us to now. Gerald and I just spent nine days in Costa Rica. It was fun. And it was hard. It was beautiful. And it was challenging. It was an adventure for sure. There is much to tell. And I will do that in a series of posts of which this is only the first.

So Pura Vida! This is the slogan in Costa Rica. It appears on everything: coffee mugs, t-shirts, posters. I like the slogan. Pura Vida = Pure Life. How lovely to live a pure life. That's a goal we should all have, don't you think?

2015
Where will we go in 2015? I'm thinking Hawaii.

Wait, no. What?

They don't speak Spanish in Hawaii? Are you sure?

Oh, I'm pretty sure we can find somebody there who does.

..............to be continued......................

Cribbage, anyone?

Once upon a time, I loved to fly on airplanes. Airplane travel was a novelty for me, and it was always exciting. I was 13 years old the first time I flew on a plane. My cousin Lynn was joining Rainbow Girls, and I flew all by myself from Portland to Seattle to attend her initiation ceremony. The whole experience was thrilling. I loved everything about it. I loved going through security, boarding the plane, listening to the flight attendant's safety presentation, and eating the in-flight meal. Yes, back then, even on a short flight, they always served food. Through my early adult life, I got to fly maybe once a year at the very most, so the thrill never diminished.

That was until six years ago. In the fall of 2004, we moved from our home in Washington to Billings, Montana. Five days later, we drove Shulamith to Salt Lake City to begin her freshman year at Westminster College. Thus began my life as a frequent flier. I would fly down to see her once in October and once in February, and she would come home for Thanksgiving, Christmas, spring break, and summer vacation. This worked fairly well for the four years she was a student. I knew from the start that her time in Utah would last four years, and I adjusted myself emotionally to deal with that, as long as there were lots and lots of visits for both of us.

What I didn't know was that her time there would extend beyond those four years. I didn't exactly sign up for “I got a teaching job here in Salt Lake City, so I think I'll stay here for a couple years and teach,” or “I've met the love of my life, so I think I'll get married and live here year-round.” No, neither of those scenarios was part of my long-range plan. But as my friend Lorrie likes to point out, “Life is what happens when you're making other plans.” Indeed, Shulamith stayed in Utah and began teaching kindergarten. That same year, while attending Luke's mission reunion, she met our sweet Mathew and ultimately married him.

And I became an even MORE frequent flier.

Now, it seems, I fly almost monthly. Before I even return from one trip, I'm searching for decent rates on the next. To bring both Shulamith and Matt home to Billings requires two airline tickets; it makes more financial sense for me to go there. So that's what I do. Often. Additionally, now that Luke is attending grad school in Indiana, I fly out there occasionally to visit him. Flying is no longer a novelty. It is no longer a thrill. It is an efficient way to get from Point A to Point B, and I'm thankful for it, but it's hardly cause for excitement.

At this very moment, I'm sitting on an airplane 37,000 feet in the sky flying over Cuba. Gerald and I are headed to Costa Rica, so he can speak Spanish and gather ideas for his website, and so I can bask in the sunshine and relax by the ocean. This is our second 4-hour flight today. First, after leaving Seth in the loving care of Shulamith and Mathew, we boarded a plane from Salt Lake City bound for Atlanta. As I said, flying just doesn't offer the excitement it once did. The flight to Atlanta was smooth and uneventful (which is good!), but it was also long and boring. To pass the time, the first thing I did was sleep! Sleep is such an amazing time passer. Shulamith lent me her neck pillow, and I drifted off peacefully for nearly an hour. When I awoke, it was time for the complimentary soda and peanuts Delta provides. With another two hours left on the flight, the question was: What do we do next?

The answer: cribbage! Now you need to understand something. Unlike Scrabble, cribbage is MY game. I've played it since I was a little girl. My dad loved to play cribbage, and he taught me when I was very young. I remember watching him play with my grandfather. My dad had a system for cribbage. He never had to wonder which cards to deposit into the crib; he had a system. One part of his system was the rule that you always hold out for the potential double run, even if that means sacrificing some combinations of fifteen. To this day, I think about that rule whenever I play. Sometimes I follow it, and sometimes it works. Other times it doesn't, but either way, when I play cribbage, I think about my dad. And it makes me happy.

Yes, cribbage is MY game. Consequently, I tend to be just a little competitive. I really do like to win. I really don't like to lose. I get pretty cranky when that happens, especially if I lose to Gerald. After all, I'm the one who taught him to play. Fortunately, I won handily in the game we played on our earlier flight. Whew! We wouldn't want a cranky traveler, especially on the very first day of our vacation. By the time we finished, there was just about enough time to listen to a bit of music and work one crossword puzzle before the plane landed in Atlanta. Two hours in the airport gave me just about enough time to eat lunch and talk to all five kids while I still had cell coverage.

That brings us to right now, 8:00 p.m. Mountain Daylight Time. We have passed Cuba on our way south to the beautiful, lush, rainy Costa Rica. This flight has not been any more exciting than the first, except that this time we're almost to our final destination. I slept once again, this time lying down with my head on a pillow on Gerald's lap and my feet on the empty seat next to us. He watched the sunset while I slept. I awoke and began to draft this post. At this point, I'm ready to be done. Whatever thrill there once was in air travel is most certainly gone. I've been on an airplane nearly seven hours already today; enough is enough. I just want to be there. But Gerald tells me we still have another hour and fifteen minutes left to go. Whatever will we do?

Cribbage anyone?

Transitions

Yesterday, Eli and I took Seth shopping for school supplies. Eli always loved buying his yearly school supplies, so he enjoys accompanying Seth each year. Purchasing school supplies: such a landmark event in an elementary school student's life. As he scanned the sheet for Bitterroot Elementary School, Seth proudly announced, "Here it is! Fifth grade!" I fought back the tears. Fifth grade? Are you kidding? My little baby boy is in FIFTH GRADE? How can that be? Sheesh, I remember fifth grade. Clearly. I had a wonderful teacher, Mrs. Faight, who didn't dog on me about my horrible handwriting. My teacher the previous year was not so forgiving. She made me stay inside during recess and write countless pages of these stupid loops; this was somehow supposed to improve my penmanship. Guess what, Mrs. Knudson? It didn't work. My handwriting is no better now than it ever was.

Backpack and supplies purchased, Seth is fully prepared to begin the school year just two days after we return from vacation. Transitions.

I am not a person who does well with transitions. My anxiety just loves to rear its lovely head when I have to deal with change. I can feel it, even physically. Last night, I lay in bed contemplating the transitions coming in the next four weeks. Seth's school supply shopping was only the beginning. Additionally, I mailed off the first of 10 installments for Isaiah's tuition to Westminster for his sophomore year of college. You'd think it would be the $1,000+ depletion in my checking account that would cause me stress. But no, that's only money. The stress comes from sending him off once again into the unknown. I can't protect him when he's 500 miles away. Not that he needs my protection, but I am forever a mom. Summer was so short. I feel like he just got home. Can it really be nearly time for him to go back again? I rejoice with him as he moves forward to a new and exciting year, but I also really miss him when he's away.

Then there's Luke. He and his friend are driving all the way from Indiana to Texas in the next two days to visit her family there. I know they will be fine. The are grown adults and safe drivers. Still, I'll be relieved to receive an occasional text message from Luke assuring me they are fine. When they return, Luke jumps right into the second year of his PhD program, and this one promises to be even more crazy busy than the last. Because he was on fellowship last year, he was not allowed to work. This year, he'll teach two communications classes as well as continuing his ongoing research projects for one of his professors in addition to his coursework. He can do it, no doubt, but I think I'm glad I'm not Luke.

Transitions. I don't really like them. They make me anxious, which doesn't accomplish a single thing in the future and robs me of every ounce of strength in the present. Blah!

I think I need a vacation. What a good idea! How about Costa Rica? Okay. I can settle my mind and relax within the next few days before we leave, right? Luke will be safely in Texas by then. Seth will be in the loving hands of Shulamith and Mathew (his favorite playmate on the planet). Isaiah and Eli will be home in Montana slaving away at Walmart and Albertson's, but they too will be safe. All six kids accounted for. All safe.

Costa Rica: here we come!