Hiking

Today, I went on a 9-mile hike with some friends.  We started out from Millard Canyon (look at the left of the map) and had hoped to reach Mt. Lowe (look at the top of the map), but due to some detours along the way--going down the wrong trail at the start of the hike--we ended up just going to Echo Mountain (look at the right of the map) instead.

Apparently, there used to be a hotel up there and a railway that led up to it.  These were some signs that we were approaching Echo Mountain:

        

When we arrived at the ruins of the hotel, we got a splendid view:

These steps used to lead up to the hotel.  Sadly, it burned to the ground in 1905, but there are still some remains of the structure, like this one:

One Day We'll All Be Rich

This afternoon, after church, I attended an open house with my parents.  Mom was very excited, because this was what her "dream house" was like.  The house we visited was Tudor style and looked similar to this:

It was delightful to wander from room to room, taking in the furnishing and imagining what function was served by each nook and cranny.  We pointed things out to one another as we walked along:

"Look at the sitting room, with upholstered furniture and a fireplace."

"Ah, this must be the servant's room, right next to the kitchen!"

"Look, they have a bathroom attached to the study, and when the door is shut, it looks like part of the dark wood paneling!"

"Wow, they have a ballroom?!  It's almost the size of a tennis court!"

"The master bedroom has 2 side rooms attached to it.  Perhaps this was the nursery for the babies.  Or it could be used as a sewing room for the lady of the house."

"Cool, look at the steps leading down to the wine cellar.  The wallpaper down there is of grapes."

"This is a grand fireplace, made of stone.  It reaches all the way to the second floor!"

As my mom put it:

"This is as close to Downton Abbey as we get".

Downton Abbey has been "big" for a while, but it is only recently that my parents and I have gotten hooked.  We love the dramatic elements of the show, but the period set itself is enough to capture our attention.  There is something splendid about being transported to another era and culture, and this afternoon's walk through the Tudor mansion allowed us to imagine ourselves in another world.  It reminded me of my time in London last spring, when I toured grand places rich people once inhabited.

I asked my parents: "Would we ever be able to afford a place like this?"

Mom said: "Only if you marry someone very rich".

"I know how to navigate my course, then," was my rejoinder.  I'll be on the lookout =)

This all points me to consider the words of Jesus:

In My Father's House there are many mansions.  I go and prepare a place for you…

One day, we'll each be rich enough to have a mansion.

One day, perhaps Mom will have a Tudor-style mansion of her own, and it will be better than anything she could possibly have here.  She won't need servants, and nothing will ever get soiled or broken.

Until then, it is always fun to visit open houses on Sunday afternoons and to imagine, just for a while, that we are rich, and that we have a mansion of our own to enjoy.

What Career Should You Actually Have?

On Facebook, people have been posting the results of an online test that tells you what career you should actually have.  I got writer.

Interestingly, about 3 years ago, my Facebook profile went through a time where the "About Me" section said: Violin and Piano Teacher; Board-Certified Music Therapist; Social Dancer; Recreational Writer.  

During that season of life, I taught music for a living and volunteered as a music therapist on the side.  I also danced a ton and wrote about it. I shared my writing with close friends, and one of them invited me to become a contributor for her online magazine.  I also entered a piece in a short story contest.  I wondered if I should start taking my writing more seriously.

The problem was, I wasn't quite sure how to navigate this path of being/becoming a writer.  

As a child, I dreamed of becoming a writer, and I wrote frequently.  I have kept a consistent journal since I was 5 years old, never waiting more than 2 weeks in between entries.  And if I got a dollar for each bit of correspondence through which I've built meaningful relationships with my friends, I'd be rich by now.  I did well on writing assignments in school, and I was a relatively quick (and loquacious) writer.  

The thing with writing, though, is that there is just so much that one can do with it.  So much, in fact, that many grand projects of mine never made it to completion.  I seem to do better with short, reflective essays.

So, though it's tempting to ramble on an on about 

~how, as a relational introvert, writing helps me express myself and communicate with others 

~how, as a relational introvert, I tend to mimic the writing styles of authors I am reading at the moment (and have yet to find my own distinct voice and style)

~how, as a relational introvert, corresponding with people far away is a highly satisfying endeavor (one day I might share about a romance that began with long emails that flew from East to West Coast)

and

~how, as a relational introvert, some of my best "friends" as a child existed in books,

I'll conclude this post for now and take a moment to introduce some of the topics which I hope to share on this blog.  Each picture is worth a thousand words!