Pardon my American, but stairs are a bitch.
Comments like that might explain the troubling obesity rate in this country, but I dare anyone disagree with me. If you’re rolling your eyes and calling me a “lazy American,” get back to me after climbing 200 steps on a steep incline nearly a mile above sea level. I thought so.
Each year, my newspaper includes a seasonal gardening section embedded between our pages each week. It’s a pain in the butt. Usually we use articles on lawn and garden topics from other services because none of us are really big into gardening. However, I hate the idea of using content that is not original, so I volunteered to do a sometimes-weekly column on my gardening experiment this year. I’ve never kept a garden so I’m definitely no expert, so this should be a fun read to see how my vegetables turn out.
I’ll be including my columns as they post in the paper. Enjoy and please feel free to comment and include tips.
I can’t really say what I expected when I moved to Ouray, Colorado two years ago. All I knew was that this was an opportunity for me to make good on my childhood promise that I would one day leave the beaches I’ve always known. Looking back on my 24 months in the mountains, the one thing I will say is that I don’t regret it. I keep trying to think of a moment where I’ve been disappointed in my decision, but nothing comes to mind.
It was unusually bright out when I woke up at 6 o’clock this morning. Peering out my window, I didn’t see the sunrise creeping over the mountains like I usually do. Instead, it was the blinding white glow of snow as it swallowed the yard while more flakes and flurries scattered from the still-dark skies.
“That’s a lot of snow,” I thought to myself, not thinking it was a big deal.
After all, I’ve been in Colorado for two years now, I know what a lot of snow looks like… Wrong.
Because I’m particularly lazy about walking my dog when a single snow flake falls or the sun isn’t shining right, I shuffled my way to the door to let him out to do his business on his own. We were both greeted by a knee-deep wall of snow.
“That’s really a lot of snow.”
It pains me to admit it, but I’m a flaky person.
As mentioned so many times before, I intend to make Brazil the first stop of my travel adventures. Only a few months ago, I was eagerly touting an adventure-packed Brazilian Spring Break this March/April; however, it looks like that’s not going to happen.
“If you run, the buck catches; if you stay, the buck eats.”
In my quest to learn as much as I can about Brazil and life therein, my Google searches brought me to this film called Cidade de Deus (City of God). I’ve been eager to watch it on Netflix for some time, but because it’s such a long movie (130 minutes) and I have the attention span of my golden retriever in a butcher shop, I kept bookmarking the title for another day.
Yesterday was that day.
It’s the dead of winter. Temperatures are barely above freezing and the afternoon sun and blue skies are veiled by thick, gray clouds; yet, here I am, teeny bikini and all, taking a dip in the community pool. God, I love hot springs.