Encounters in the Wild

{What you are about to read is true in its entirety, and most information was scored in an exclusive interview with the prey.} 

My sister Emily bikes to work in the summertime. It's a lovely ride that winds through overgrown vines and trees and weaves between tall red rock towers to reach her destination: an 1800's castle. One particular day, Emily was crossing the bridge to reach the castle and noticed a legion of turkeys across the lawn. She looked again, and one crazy turk had bolted from the group and was running straight at her. Instinctively, she pedaled those little legs like lightning, out-sped the turkey and made it to work in one piece. 

The Castle

The next day, Emily was biking to work and crossed the bridge to reach the castle. She noticed a legion of turkeys across the lawn, and looking again, the same crazy turk bolted from the group and ran straight for her, only this time it bolted sooner and ran faster. Emily jumped off her bike to use it as a shield and a weapon, and once the turkey was sufficiently frustrated it left her alone... and late for work.

The next time Emily was biking to work and crossing the bridge to reach the castle, she expected a legion of turkeys across the lawn, but instead, she saw something much bigger: a bear. Knowing her bike simply wouldn't be enough to protect her, she darted into the nearby carriage house and slipped into an open door. When she turned to close the door, the bear had followed and was just outside. After slamming the door in its face, she watched through the window and after several minutes it wandered into the woods. The coast was clear -- or so she thought -- so she got up to leave. As she rounded the corner to the carriage house, another bear was poking its head around the corner... and it might have been drooling a little bit. She left her bike for later and scooted herself up the back stairs to the kitchen, out of breath, panicked, and ready to find another form of transportation. 

Who knew animals conspired?

I've had my own share of wild encounters since moving a few weeks ago. When I leave home in the mornings, a little gray rabbit is waiting by my car door at least twice a week. I only started to think it was weird when I found gray rabbits waiting by my car at other places around town. Oh, and did I ever mention this guy was on my balcony not too long ago? 

On Behalf of the Women

Dear Women's Fashion Designers, 

I have a few bones to pick with you. Your job is to design clothes that flatter and beautify a woman, no? Then why, when shopping for a dress this summer, did I have to wonder whether the bottom half of almost every dress I tried on was sold separately? You know very well that thighs are something most of us try to conceal...or should try to conceal. 

Also, which one of you decided that a bra should no longer be an undergarment, but an accessory? And who seconded that motion? I suggest we scratch that one and start over please. After all, we follow your lead...and you know that most of us will believe that what you tell us is beautiful really is beautiful. 

I've always wondered why all clothes are made in all sizes. Wouldn't it be better art if certain styles were designed for and restricted to those it looked best on? 

And for the good of all mankind, please start encouraging the ladies toward a bit more mystery and intrigue. This promotes self-respect, which promotes healthier relationships, which promotes happier lives, which results in less self-focus and a more joyful world. And wouldn't you agree, if you were honest, that true, lasting attraction develops from admiration and respect for the person, not the figure? Help a sister out.

a.e.f.

Running for Freedom

Today’s downtown run led to some interesting thoughts. Running brings me joy and I hardly feel more alive inside than when I run. It is freedom. Think about the things people run for: People run for their lives, in war, from home, to safety. People run for help. We run to warn people of coming danger. We run to escape. We run to the arms of our beloved. We run for sport, to push ourselves, to do what we thought impossible, to conquer goals. We run angry, we run scared, we run ecstatic. 

All of these reasons, in one way or another, lead to freedom. We either run so that we can be free or we run because we are free. 

Back in the good ol’ days when I took running seriously, I would recite 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 in my head right before a race. It pumped me up better than techno. “Do you not know that in a race all the runners compete, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.”

At a glance, discipline appears to be the opposite of freedom. A closer look reveals that lack of self-control and being disqualified from the prize is bondage, meaning that discipline and its fruit lead to freedom. If we focus our running, decide we’re running for Christ, and go at it with all our might, we will know never-ending freedom when we see his face. 

Proverbs 19:16 says, “Whoever keeps the commandment keeps his life; he who despises his ways will die.” We will all continue running, but those who run to obtain the prize will run for freedom, and they will receive it. 

Men

I found this poem I wrote in college on an especially feisty day and thought I'd share.

MEN

I know you know I’m here, 

But me you will ignore.

Tomorrow you’ll be clear:

It’s me you just adore.

You take your time and say,

“I’m not quite sure. Please wait.

 I must take time to pray.”

I’ll find another date. 

You want to hold my hand

and hear that I’ll be there. 

It’s this I cannot stand.

I’ll go pull out my hair. 

And then I look at him, 

So beautiful and kind.

This game is far too grim.

He’s in a different line.

Ray

Moving to Colorado from Los Angeles and making necessary life changes meant that concerts are now a privilege, not a right. The one I've been to was last night, and it was better than all the shows before it... combined. Yes. Little Jonny and I got each other the same birthday present: tickets to a Ray LaMontagne concert at Red Rocks Amphitheatre.

You couldn't possibly change one thing about last night to make it better. Warm air, clear sky, seats high enough to see the city of Denver, towering red rocks on either side of us, and a shirtless gentleman two rows down with a centaur tattooed across his entire back {who's lucky he decided to stop dancing after the first song...}. Oh, and I was with little brother Jonny, one of my favorite people on the planet. 

Ray LaMontagne has been one of my favorite musicians for about two years, and I felt it was risky business to see him in concert. You know when someone sounds so much better on the album than in real life, and you consider deleting all their music and hanging your head in shame when you return home? On the contrary, I wanted to bottle up his voice and wear it on a string. 

Apparently a simple man, he worked in a shoe factory before making us weak in the knees with his voice and lyrics. His simple stage presence made him all the more appealing, and his music spoke for itself. He doesn't force emotions on his audience. Instead, he can summarize bits of life in a song and leave you speechless and dumbfounded without hardly trying. I think if you asked him why he sings, his answer would never be "to entertain the people." His music is soul music -- his songs mean something to you. 

When he opened his mouth to sing, I stopped everything. I realized I forgot the defibrillator only after my heart stopped beating -- or maybe it flipped inside out. Either way, I wanted to explode. He possessed a refreshing humility like I've never seen before on stage. The whole thing was, in a word, unforgettable.

I Dream of Grocery

I decided to write about something weird today, and that idea was confirmed as brilliant when I walked into the coffee shop just now. A musical group was seated inside the front door, playing instruments I have never seen. It was either Renaissance or Riverdance music. I'm not familiar with either to distinguish them, but all I know is I wanted to jig. I wanted to jig bad, and this is exactly the kind of place that I could start a jig and perhaps be joined by everyone else in line and it would be totally normal...but weird. Anyway, it got me in the perfect mood to write about my weird dream.

This dream was inspired by the name of a local grocery store. Some grocery stores have names that actually reveal what's inside: Food4Less, Whole Foods, and Farm Fresh. Others are just plain funny: HE Butt Grocery. Others leave you guessing: Jitney Jungle, Piggly-Wiggly, and the main character in my dream -- King Soopers.

King Soopers. What? It's a household name in Colorado. It's our local grocery store, founded by Lloyd King in 1947. I've shopped at King Soopers for years and think it's great. So great that I dreamed about it and will never forget it.

In my dream, I had just been hired by King Soopers and arrived for my first day of training, only to find all the employees dressed in Kung Fu fighting clothes. Startled, I stood off to the side until I realized why. Kung Fu was the newest effective method of cutting down on shoplifting and taking care of those unruly customers. I slipped into my fighting clothes and instead of learning the cash register, I learned Kung Fu. The result of all this? King Soopers was forever known as Kung Foopers.

Thrifting

Think of this post as With Love, Jen: Part II. I scanned pages of her letter and put them here with her permission, both so you could see why I was so delighted and so you can add some of the best advice around to your thrifting repertoire. When Jen and I were together in Washington, I asked her how to successfully shop thrift stores. I want to learn this skill. Extraordinary items can be found there when one has the eye for it. Jen has the eye, and I asked her to tell me all she knew. I apologize that some of it is hard to read because of the scan quality, but I hope you enjoy her response as much as I do.