Perky…

I made the giant leap to chop the old hair today. I like it but I’m wondering it is a poor match for my personality. Oh, well, hair grows.

Normal.

Too young of a cut or too soccer mom? Either way I suppose it’s presentable for a 35 year old.

My grandfather on the front porch of my parent’s new house.

This house sits in the prime spot for viewing the plantation. Very pretty.

My world traveler in-laws have bounded off for another month long adventure that will take them to Europe and Southern Africa. Zach has requested a picture of a lion, although grandma suggested maybe an elephant or a giraffe. It should be a very exciting trip for them. But last night, Zach woke up crying for Grandma. He must have had some sort of weird nightmare, or picked up on the fact that they would be gone a very long time in the two year-old mind.

Here are the locations they will travel:

Amsterdam

Johannesburg, South Africa

Windhoek, Namibia

Government Camp, Botswana

Sabi Sand Game Reserve ,Mpumalanga, South Africa

Capetown, South Africa

Lisbon, Portugal
Since my geography is about 15 years lacking, I looked up the locations on Google earth. Here is a little map for a reference.

Whew.

I’m feeling better now. I have to remember to take everything one step at a time. Be it learning a math concept or writing a paper. Seeing it all laid out last night was both reassuring and nerve-racking.

I did learn one thing, though, I like teachers. The woman and men in my class were so nice, and intellegent and ready to jump in. For a night school, these students are not slackers.

I have my first paper due next Tuesday. It’s mostly a refresher and used to help us get back into college-level writing styles.  (p. 109)

I haven’t written a paper like that in quite a while. I’m a bit rusty.

Somebody got a kitty!

I had to share this cute picture of my sister’s daughter with her new pet! Adorable. I’m lovin’ that face!

I just finished a fun, long weekend with house guests from Minnesota. It was very fun to show them around and give them a taste of our favorite things in Colorado.

I actually got to ride the train on the Georgetown Loop, which after ten years of living in the Denver area, I have never done.

I struck up a conversation with a grandmother who had a granddaughter from California with her, about trains and the many trains I rode while on vacation as a child.

My father has been a railroad man since he was 19 years old and has served as a Conductor, Brakeman, Engineer and is now the Yard master. Railroads must get into your blood.

After the ride I was looking through some vintage railroad posters and an older gentleman approached me.

”I heard you telling the women about your father working for the railroad,” he said. “I worked as a conductor for many years.”
He told me how he stared with a line in Pennsylvania and ended working for Amtrak. He told me he had been retired for 15 years, “So it’s paid for itself already!” he joked.

Over the years I’ve formed my own strong opinions about railroads. It’s a shame the way our country has pulled up so many lines in lieu of speedier methods like semis and planes. It would be such a blessing to be able to travel by train the way they are able to in Europe and Japan.

There is also a wonderful sense of pride with the older generation of railroad workers. It’s something you don’t see too much of anymore. After all those years on the lines, I’ll always meet at least one at every railroad museum.

For the love of the trains.

Every estimator in my office is under 30. A couple are a few years shy, but they dread, dread, dread turning 30 and talk about age often.

For some reason they feel like your life just shrivels up and dies when you turn 30. And if you’re my age, 34 (and an administrative assistant) you must have struck out hard in life.

Whatever.

For one thing, I’m really enjoying my 30s. The only person I have to prove anything too is myself. I realize that for something as mostly meaningless as a “career”, I still have 31 years before I’m forced to retire.

At 34 years old I have a house, two decent cars, a great marriage, a wonderful husband and a great kid. Ten years ago, I wasn’t even remotely satisfied with my life as I am now. And according to society, back then I had it all. I was young!I’m not the only one who thinks being thirtysomething is a good time. I’ve known people who didn’t get married until their late 30s. Then there are women who had a great career and in their 30s and QUIT to be a stay at home mother! These people aren’t millionaires. They aren’t odd balls. They are real people who turned 30 and found out, guess what? It’s not that big of deal.

It’s actually becomes refreshing to take care of yourself, plan for your long-term future, enjoy the nuances of life, and never have the boasting conversation that begins “I got so drunk last night at the bar” again. Because frankly if you did, it sucks to be you, and why are you telling me?

In addition to that, being around the block with jobs, so to speak, I’d have to say if I were them, I’d be worried. There is something to be said about a company that only hires twenty-something college graduates and that message is: you probably won’t have a position that grows with you for the next ten years. Over half of them will not be with this company in a decade. The job will have outgrown their needs.

So that is my age rant. I admire people who are willing to change careers at any age, or go back to school or grow, period. Maybe that’s where the 20-somethings are short-sighted or naïve.

A best friend, English major, and head of the largest girl posse I know, has invited me to join a book club. I signed up right away because to be English major you have read to boatload of books. Also, her suggestions are always wonderful.

In a party-line style email, the name of our book club was born via her sister who wrote sarcastically:

“So, I’m only in if we say things like, ‘I truly appreciated the metaphors
that the author used to represent love. Namely, the empty red urn.’ and
‘I loved the ending when the sisters found each other again and they
lived together until death. It made my vagina glow.’”

The comment was followed with quips like, “I’ll be there with my glowing vagina” and this one:

“Way to go!  You gave us our official name:  ‘The Glowing Vagina Book Club - Denver Chapter’ Hee hee”

Our first book is Atonement by Ian McEwan.

Commence the glowing.

Yesterday afternoon my mother-in-law boarded a flight to Chicago from Denver.

The plane took off as normal. Once in the air, the plane began to circle and they announced they would land in Denver.

While on the way down to land, all the passengers noticed several fire trucks and police cars on the runway to escort them to the gate. No announcements were on why fire trucks and police cars were needed. No one was told what went wrong.

On the runway the passengers could all smell a strong burning smell. They then were told that they would switch planes.  The delay was long, so my mother-in-law requested another flight going out today. She told my husband that after years of flying she had never been more afraid.