Halloween 2011

Here's the obligatory Trick-or-Treat post!

Somehow, in less than 3 years of life, Sawyer has experienced 2 Halloweens in the States. Not a bad deal for a little guy. Except that he doesn't really like candy yet.

Sawyer and Elsie went as big little bugs this year, a bumblebee and caterpillar.


Our warm and cozy caterpillar:


Hitting the neighborhood:



Sawyer loves his glow-in-the-dark skeleton jammies!

USA Early Observations

Whenever I move to a new country, I like to make some observations after a short time. Maybe interesting, maybe they show my small-mindedness, maybe funny, maybe insightful... fresh perspective is a rare and beautiful thing, and so I observe. I have not been in the USA in 2 years, I haven’t lived here in 4 years. As such, I do feel like I have some new observations, not completely as a foreigner but a bit of an outsider. So here are my return to America observations:

-Everything is bigger in the US, at least compared to Europe. Roads, cars, farms, houses, grocery stores, hamburgers, portions, parking spaces, campuses, and people.

-Choices. So. Many. Choices. I step into a Wal-Mart and I’m awed by the choices, of mostly junk. I walk through a mall, and I’m overwhelmed by all the different ways I can throw away money on things I don’t need. So many choices. I’ve learned in France a little tip for how to find a good restaurant. In general, avoid the places with 10-page menus offering everything from French to Thai to Moroccan cuisine. Go for someplace that specializes in very few things and only offers what they do well. Coming back to the States with an overabundance of choices is a bit intimidating. Did you know that there are currently 67 varieties of Pop-Tarts?

-A tank of gas in the States costs me about $45. In France it's about $90.

-I was driving through Lexington, KY and noticed a church of some sort on nearly every street corner. All over the place. And big churches too. I started eye-balling and guessing some numbers, and I honestly think that there may be more seats in all of the local churches than there are habitants of the city. Someone should do that study. And then reteach the whole concept of “building drives.”

-The current Dodge Chargers are nice-looking cars.

-Mmmmm bacon. If anyone in southern France knows how to buy and prepare bacon in the American fashion, talk to me.

-I love the woods. National Parks. Trails. I hope our country protects them. When I talk to people about visiting the USA, I always direct them to the parks. Very much worth discovering and exploring. I also think that our country is far better visited in smaller towns and cities, local diners, and getting away from the interstate. The same is true of other countries. If you want to come to France, your visit will be infinitely richer by getting away from Paris.

-I love milkshakes. But I have to limit myself to one a day. Two is too many.

-Everyone in the US drives. That’s the way the country is set up: expansive, open, and car-dependent. It’s not bad, not better, just different. But I miss my walking and public transit European home.

-TSA. Cincinnati. Sheesh.

When Cultures Collide - Hiking in a Speedo

So there I was. Hiking through the Smokey Mountains. It was hot out, so I did what any of my French friends would do (well maybe not any...): I took off my pants and hiked in my speedo briefs. Seemed natural. Made sense. Right?

Well after a short time, a group of trail riders passed us on their horses. Four in all. The leader was a 60-something mountain man in a cowboy hat with strong grip on his reins. Following him was an equally aged, equally comfortable-in-the-woods-on-a-horse woman. Then a younger couple in college t-shirts, out for a fun afternoon ride. My friends and I watched and chuckled as each of the four riders passed, looked me in the eyes, slowly gazed downward, then suddenly became infatuated with the treetops. What must they have been thinking?

About three hours later, the riders passed us again on the trail, and their musings over our peculiar hiking attire became evident. The mountain man leader greeted us with a question, “You boys been swimmin’ today?”

“No sir,” we answered, “sure haven’t.”

They passed, and the intrigue continued.

Traipsing through the Woods

I am back from a 3 night backpacking extravaganza with a few of my closest guy friends. We hiked through the Smokey Mountains, slept on the ground, ate protein-packed everything, bathed in ice-cold stream water, and hoisted our food every night to keep it from the bears. On the last morning we awoke and hiked out in a downpour, a fun ending to a great trip away. My favorite bits of the whole thing were our great spiritual discussions on the trail, the complete disconnection from all technology, late-night Rook games inside a tent while winds raged outside, and the fabulous diner breakfast that followed our hike out (biscuits, hash browns, sausage, grits, eggs, and a milkshake). I desperately needed the reconnection with God that came through the beauty of meandering mountain streams and early morning quiet prayer, accompanied by the symphony of nature. The community that I desperately crave everyday of my life was fulfilled by 5 men that know and love me as I do them. Much fun.

Our second night we crossed paths with a man and his teenage daughter who were on their fourth night in, backpacking and backwoods camping. I was touched and inspired, and I can't wait to hit the trail with my own kids!

Having fun in the woods, I completely failed to take any photos. Oops.

Today, back in civilization I felt the call back to nature and took Sawyer for a hike along with his uncle. Sawyer is already a fantastic hiker, taking quickly to the trail and loving the exploration.
After our hike in the woods we came to a huge hill that ended in Kentucky Lake. Naturally, I taught my son an important skill that every little boy should know: rolling down the hill.


One last important boyhood skill: rock skipping:
Err, throwing.