A few days ago, as Dorc and I were walking out of Rite Aid in Elk Grove, I saw one of the most beautiful sunsets I’d seen in a long time. The sky was splashed in purple and magenta, with orange tones closer to the horizon. When I lived in Sac, there were many evenings where I’d grab my camera to photograph either a dramatic sunset after a storm, or the massive flock of birds that danced nightly above an open field nearby. No matter how many times I saw the sky or the birds, they continued to amaze me.

Now that Miles is with us, and as he’s becoming more and more fascinated by things around him (namely lights right now), I wonder what will capture his interest as he grows older. I look forward to witnessing his child-like wonder and reliving that sense of amazement that often gets suppressed as an adult. Will he delight in the first signs of life growing out of the ground at the start of spring or have his breath taken away every time Mt. Rainier shows itself? Will he gather autumn leaves and preserve their color by pressing them between the pages of books? Will he lie on the grass and point out animals and objects in the clouds? I don’t want to direct his interests, but I hope that he’s not so engrossed in the latest tech toy that he overlooks the simple beauties of the earth.
Conservationist Rachel Carson wrote:

“A child’s world is fresh and new and beautiful, full of wonder and excitement. It is our misfortune that for most of us that cleareyed vision, that true instinct for what is beautiful and awe inspiring, is dimmed and even lost before we reach adulthood. If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an underfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile preoccupation with things that are artificial, the alienation from the sources of our strength.

What is the value of preserving and strengthening the sense of awe and wonder, this recognition of something beyond the boundaries of human existence? Is the exploration of the natural world just a pleasant way to pass the golden hours of childhood or is there something deeper? …

Those who dwell, as scientists or laymen, among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life. … Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is symbolic as well as actual beauty in the migration of the birds, the ebb and flow of the tides, the folded bud ready for the spring. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature – the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after the winter.”

As another year begins (as of 32 minutes ago!) and another cycle of seasons continues, I’m excited to see what 2012 holds. More so, I look forward to experiencing a new year with Miles and seeing the world through his eyes.

Happy new year, friends!

These few days in May always bring a lot of reminiscing for me. The first significant date is May 7 – our wedding anniversary. Today, we celebrated six years of marriage. Coincidentally, yesterday I stumbled upon my outdated Shutterfly account, which was full of photos from my life in LA. Some of the ones in there included our engagement and wedding pictures. Sometimes I feel like the six years has gone by really fast; but, at the same time, I feel like those years of being in LA were eons ago.

Last year, I posted about the beginnings of our relationship and reasons why I love Matt, so I’ll spare you all the sentiments this year. All I’ll say is that I’m thankful for him – the things I really admire about him and, dare I say it, even the things that drive me a little batty.

These dates also are significant because exactly five years ago, we packed up a U-Haul and drove up to Seattle with my dad and Matt’s mom. We had never seen our apartment until we pulled up to it. It was a warm, sunny Seattle weekend (in May!), and after we unloaded everything, we launched right into hitting the Seattle spots – Pike Place, Kerry Park, and Ezell’s Chicken (made famous by Oprah). We were newlyweds on a new adventure – and we haven’t regretted it since.

When I looked at the pics from Shutterfly, I felt like the experience of living in LA was a distant memory. I felt like there was a lot of emotional adjustment upon moving there, and I look back at those years almost like I was a different person. Then again, I know Matt would agree with me that we’ve both grown a lot since moving here.

A day after we unpacked and our parents flew back to California, I started my job at WV. It has been five years now that I’ve been there, and I haven’t grown tired of it yet. There have been many, many hard moments, but also many good, good ones, too. It’s funny to think back at my first few months there and how my relationships with my teammates, comfort level, and familiarity with everything has changed. I am so thankful to be there, and am glad that Matt can be there, too.

Here are a couple of pics from my Shutterfly account…

(We totally staged this photo. Matt tried to catch the real moment, but the camera went off a little too late. So we reenacted this. hehe. I look so cheesy.)

(Engagement shot by Susan in San Diego. I remember we had a disagreement on the way down to SD because the directions I wrote down weren’t right – and I, unfortunately, hadn’t brought Susan’s number with me. I felt horrible about being late – and unable to contact Susan – and Matt was giving me a hard time for not being more responsible. Somehow we made it – and Susan was still waiting for us at our meeting spot – and we managed to make peace with each other and look like we loved each other in the photos.)

(Wedding day – pics also by Susan! I still love, love, love the pink and green combo and our polka-dot motif!)

(View of the smoke from the Porter Ranch fires on my way home from work. At night, from my apartment building, I could see the flames in the hills. Crazy. I don’t think wildfires are much of an issue here in western Washington.)

(Taken at a mall in Sao Paulo in 2002. I paid to jump on a big trampoline and was ambitious to try a flip. I managed to do it, but couldn’t control my landing. All of my momentum propelled me forward onto my face. You could imagine I got a lot of laughs. Fortunately, I didn’t get hurt.)

Life sure has been interesting.

I’ve had a lot on my mind, but nothing I can put down on “paper” yet, aside from the journal that sits next to my bed. But today, Matt directed me to this blog post and I want to share it with you all. It’s about taking risks and living out your dreams, as  big or small as they may be. Or in the words of Thoreau, it’s about living deep and sucking the marrow out of life.

I’ve started to write this post in my head many, many times over the past few months. Several times, I felt ready to write, and figured it was just a matter of finding time to get something out. But something would always happen to show me that I wasn’t quite ready yet. Even now, after all the half-written mental blog posts (usually thought through in the shower), I’m still having a hard time starting this.

I’ve been tempted many times to simply post a video link (usually about Harry Potter) or a blurb about something interesting that happened to me that day. But if I did, without first addressing where I’ve been mentally these past few months, I’d be doing a disservice to what Matt and I have experienced. Then there’s the issue of privacy – is it inappropriate to write about this on a blog? After many years of keeping a blog, I feel that it would be inappropriate for me not to be so transparent. I don’t know who all reads my blog, but I know that most people are already aware of our situation. Putting my thoughts down here will only shed a little more light on how things have been for us. If anything, this is more for myself than for anyone else. And, in anticipation of how long this post is going to be, maybe I will be the only one who can make it to the very end of the post. :)

That said, let’s begin.

In August 2009, Matt and I began trying to start a family. I was naive. I thought it would happen pretty quickly. After all, I was healthy – I exercised, had annual checkups without any hiccups, and had a regular cycle. When I didn’t get pregnant within the first few months, I was incredibly disappointed. Every month when my period arrived, I cried.

It was really hard to be in situations where I knew people would ask us about kids. “Soo…” they would start off, sidling up to me with a raised eyebrow. “When are you guys going to have kids?” That’s probably one of the hardest questions for someone who’s been trying to conceive. It reminds people, yet again, that they still haven’t gotten pregnant. It’s a lot better when someone tactfully asks, “Have you guys thought about having kids?” And, it’s not like someone can say, “We’re going to have kids in 12 months and 13 days.” Even worse is when the question is followed up by a comment about my age. For the record, I’m turning 33 in April. I’m not *that* old. Also, the question implies that the couple *must* have kids, when in fact, having kids is an option. In the same vein, it’s like asking someone when they’re going to get married. If there are relationship challenges that the couple is working through, marriage is probably a sore subject.

The truth was that it had taken us awhile to get to the point where we knew we wanted kids. Before we were married, I thought I wanted to be pregnant by the time I was 30. When I interviewed for my current position, one of the questions I was asked was, “When you look back at your life in 10 years, what do you want to be your greatest success?” My first response (that I probably shouldn’t have blurted out) was, “To be a good mom.” I think that response gained me the support of the boss who hired me, as well as another woman who had a strong influence on the team. Everyone else wondered if I was going to quit once I had kids. So, probably not the best response for an interview, but I was just being honest – and I still got hired.

But when 30 approached, we realized we weren’t ready for kids yet. I actually had to do a lot of soul-searching about why people had kids in the first place – and why we wanted kids. After all, there’s a lot more that we could do if we didn’t have kids. Or, if we decided we wanted kids, why not go straight to adopting, since there are too many kids out there without loving families? I wrestled with the topic until finally in early 2009, I decided I was ready and wanted to be a mom. Matt could’ve gone either way the whole time, and I think he was sort of waiting for me to make up my mind.

After about six months of trying, I was discouraged, but the high expectations had begun to wear off. We were doing everything we needed to do, but we just weren’t seeing the double lines on the pregnancy test. Fast forward to June 2010 – Father’s Day weekend to be exact. Dorc was in town with us. I took a pregnancy test – it was positive! I wanted to tell Dorc right away, but Matt wasn’t home at the time, so I didn’t say anything.

His response was just as I imagined: nervous excitement. His hands got clammy, and he asked, “Are you sure??” We were both excited, but really, really nervous, as we thought ahead to all the changes that would be coming our way. My thoughts centered on raising the child, doing crafts together, going hiking…our little embryo was already a child in my head. Who would he or she look like? What would he or she be like? Matt was more practical – he was mentally going through our list of future house projects, wondering which one we could tackle before the baby arrived.

Sadly, we didn’t have to think about all that for too much longer. I’d been training for a half-marathon and went out during lunch later that week for my last training run – just an easy 2 miles. After the run, I noticed some light spotting. Within two hours, I began cramping. I tried to get comfortable in my chair and focus on my work, but I was getting really nervous. I went to the bathroom and saw what I feared. I called the doctor’s office right away and they told me to come in. I shut down my computer and bolted out of the office. With one hand on the steering wheel and one hand tightly holding mine, Matt drove quickly to downtown Seattle as I cried in the passenger seat.

One blood test and an ultrasound later, the doctor confirmed that I miscarried. She and the nurse reassured us repeatedly that it had nothing to do with our sushi binge in Vancouver the week before or my two-mile run earlier that day. The miscarriage is my body’s way of getting rid of something that wasn’t developing properly.

The next day, Na and her friend Julia arrived for the Rock ‘n’ Roll race that weekend. I didn’t say anything to Na, as I believed it was best for all of us – but especially me – not to have that become the focus of the entire weekend. I needed a distraction, and their visit was a perfect way to get that. I didn’t want to drop out of the half-marathon. After all, I’d trained hard to get to that point. I also felt like it was a way for me to feel like I was moving on and recovering emotionally from the miscarriage.

A few days after the race, I boarded a plane for Orlando, where I met up with Abby and Melanie for our much anticipated trip to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter (aka Harry Potter Land). Abby and I met up a few days prior to Melanie’s arrival, and we had several days of driving around the state and visiting small towns along the Gulf coast. It was just what both of us needed – a physical and emotional break. We made impromptu visits to small bookstores, drove around trying to find boba, and got caught in rain storms on the beach. When Melanie arrived, the excitement went up a notch, because this meant that our visit to Harry Potter Land was approaching. The night before our day at the park, we were absolutely giddy in the hotel room as we worked on our iron-on tank tops.

(I’m diverting just a second, but I just remembered that when we were at Harry Potter Land, in line to get into Ollivander’s wand shop, Abby’s husband called her on her cell. Abby picked up, chatted for a few seconds and then asked, “Is there a reason why you’re calling? You know today is Harry Potter day.” Apparently Jason was just calling to say hi, but Abby quickly made it clear that she was busy. Too funny.)

Anyway, the Florida trip was just what I needed at that time. Being with Abby and Melanie and doing anything Harry Potter-related is always the perfect distraction for me. A day after I returned to Seattle from Orlando, I got on another plane – this time to Indonesia for work. The two trips were completely different from each other in every way. Seeing new things, meeting new people, and experiencing WV’s work firsthand was unforgettable – and, again, these distractions were well-timed.

When I returned from that trip, I thought things were fine. I had been too distracted by new and exciting experiences over the past two weeks to think much about the miscarriage. But I soon found myself crying a lot at night and wanting to avoid social situations. Matt and I then agreed that we’d tell a few close friends about the miscarriage. We also decided not to tell our families, as we knew they would be really concerned and worried. We did feel that telling a few other people helped, since I was able to process my emotions more, and didn’t feel the need to hide what was on my mind when I was with our friends.

Jumping ahead to October – I had another positive pregnancy test! This time, we approached everything completely differently. The first people we told were our families. Matt was actually in LA for a weekend, so he was there in person while I was on Skype. At that time, we told them about the previous miscarriage and asked them not to tell anyone about the current pregnancy.

At week 9, we had our first appointment with the doctor and saw an ultrasound of the little baby on the monitor. Now I know why people refer to their babies as “peanut.” I tried not to cry when I saw the fluttering of the heartbeat on the screen. Everything looks great, our doctor said. Although we should’ve been more cautious, given our history, we decided to tell people at work. Matt, typically even more cautious than I, showed more excitement after seeing the ultrasound. He was scheduled to lead devos for his group that week, and wanted to share the news. In turn, I told my team that same week as well. That was the first time they all found out we’d even been trying. Over the next two weeks, we found out that maybe five or six other couples at church were expecting within a few months of us.

My pregnancy symptoms were pretty mild. I attributed that to my mom and grandma’s mild morning sickness, but now I wonder if it was simply because my hormone levels were too low. Either way, I felt pretty good. But at week 11, I started spotting – and was told that it was normal (which, for most women) is the case. But two days later, while watching an episode of “Glee,” I felt more cramps. By 10 pm, the cramps had stretched across my abdomen, similar to menstrual cramps. I knew this wasn’t normal. I forced myself to fall asleep.

For the sake of the faint-hearted, I’ll skip over the details. Basically, I woke up at 3 am and knew I was having a miscarriage. We got to the doctor’s office as soon as it opened, and they were expecting us. I hated walking into a room full of waiting pregnant women, knowing that I was no longer one of them. An ultrasound revealed that my fears were true. The baby was gone.

I think I’m going to stop here for now. The post is already pretty long, and I think I need to give myself some space. But I’m glad to be back on my blog. Thanks for waiting patiently.

Am I tooting my own horn? In the words of Napoleon Dynamite: “Heck yes!”

It’s been a long 30 days and more of a learning experience than anything else. I learned that given a whole day to write, my concentration is shot. Given a short timeframe, I’m more productive (although I’ll still find any reason to hop on the Internet as a form of procrastination). I also can make time to write if it’s important to me, without putting the rest of my life on hold. This experience has also taught me that I don’t have to feel like I’m one of the best writers out there – or even a good writer, for that matter. If I’m being honest with myself as I write and enjoying the process, then I will continue writing – and loving it.

And, even more to be proud of, Seattle topped the charts with total word count (57,839,962)!

So many books, so little time. However, one of the books that I’m currently devoting time to is called “Telling Lies for Fun and Profit,” recommended by Alonso. It’s a compilation of columns written by Lawrence Block surrounding the topic of writing – specifically fiction – but it reads more like a long letter of advice from a friend rather than a technical how-to book.

One of the chapters I just finished reading contains several suggestions for gleaning material from your daily routine. Although the tips are valuable for writers and other creative types seeking inspiration, I also believe they’re beneficial for anyone who wants to make the most of each day. Suck the marrow out of life, right?

1. STAY OUT OF RUTS. Easy as it is to get into a rut, it’s by no means inevitable, and I think it’s worthwhile to make a deliberate effort to avoid ruts. There’s a place eight blocks from my house that I walk to at least once a day, and I make it a point not to follow the same route every time. In fact, whenever I have to get from one place to another, I deliberately select an unfamiliar route, even if it takes me a slight distance out of my way.

2. LOOK WHERE YOU’RE GOING. Some routes are ruts because we stop paying attention; overfamiliarity keeps us from noticing even those things we haven’t noticed before. I’ve found that if I keep myself open to new experience, if I use my senses, I walk every path as if for the first time and invariably see something I’ve never seen previously. (MEL’S NOTE: Last week, Matt and I were driving through downtown Seattle, on Highway 99, and I commented about how I never get tired of looking at the Seattle skyline and the water. I am still amazed at the beauty of the city, and am always finding something new that I had never seen before. I take it as a good sign that, after four years, I’m still captivated by this city. I also realized that I don’t enjoy driving that much because it keeps me from staring at the passing scenery.)

3. DON’T STOP LEARNING. Recently I’ve noticed that I seem to respond to architecture in a way I never have in the past. I find myself paying attention to the shapes of buildings and various architectural details….[he goes on to talk about how he began reading about architecture in Manhattan and then enrolled in a course on architecture.]…And how will that course benefit my writing? Most importantly, by changing my way of seeing, by enlarging and enhancing my perspective. Perhaps my increased awareness will be reflected in what I write. Perhaps something I learn will lead directly to a plot or a scene or the development of a character. Perhaps, serendipity being what is is, I’ll meet someone else taking the course, or at the water foundation in the corridor, who will tell me something which will serve to springboard a future novel. I don’t know how the course will benefit my writing, and I don’t have to know, because input is a different thing altogether from research. The latter looks for answers where the former isn’t even aware of questions.

4. HANG OUT. I can’t be certain that anyone’s going to come along to broaden the base of my experience if I spend a few hours riding around in the squad car with my cop friend, or go sit on a bench in St. Vincent’s emergency room, or rub elbows with the drug dealers and the three-card-monte hustlers in Washington Square, or take in the scene at the Port Authority Bus Terminal. But I can be fairly sure nothing much is going to happen if I stay home and watch reruns of I Love Lucy. Travel’s broadening. I try to keep the fresh-eyed awareness of the traveler, not only when I’m out of town but when I walk the familiar streets of my own neighborhood. … The possibility for experiential input is infinite – as long as we remain open to it.

When I had traveled for previous jobs, I rode a horse in Park City, kayaked with dolphins in the Gulf Coast, got wined and dined in Portland, and cheered for bodybuilders at the Mr. Olympia competition in Vegas. Never had I been sent somewhere where a bucket of water replaced toilet paper, nor picked around bugs in my meal. But never had a business trip been so rewarding.

Earlier this month, I had the privilege of traveling to Indonesia for work. I spent four days in Padang (a city on West Sumatra), plus a day in Jakarta and two days of traveling on each end. Since an earthquake hit Padang last September, WV has had a presence in the city – distributing tools to help people rebuild their homes, constructing temporary and permanent school buildings, and assisting farmers with rice seeds and cacao plants. As one of two writers on my team dedicated to writing about our emergency/disaster response, I went to Indonesia with the purpose of seeing our relief work firsthand and also learning more about disaster response in general.

I shadowed a colleague, Jeff, from our programs team who has about 20 years of experience in disaster relief. For six days, I soaked in information about our work specifically in Padang, disaster work in general, challenges during disasters, struggles of working with fundraisers, as well as Jeff’s entertaining war stories. It wasn’t all work, though. I also enjoyed sunsets on the beach, ate insanely inexpensive seafood, walked through colorful local markets, chased down an ice cream man on a stiflingly hot day, rode a motorcycle for the first time, and – on my last day in Jakarta – got an hour-and-half massage for $18. As Jeff often said, “We’re suffering for Jesus.”

After four years of reading stories and seeing photos of the people we help, I thought that meeting some of them would be especially moving. Maybe it was the context in which we were working with them, or the fact that none of their lives were completely devastated (thank goodness), but I wasn’t particularly impacted by those encounters. Surprisingly, meeting our staff in Padang had the greatest impact on me.

A little background…our office here in the U.S. is considered a support office, which means just that. We bring in the big bucks (thank you, donors!) and send out the money to the national offices around the world. The national staff are the ones who directly work with the communities and find out what the greatest needs are. They also are the ones who give us all the information we need to communicate these needs to our donors.

I had a general understanding of this relationship, but I had no idea what it looked like on a daily basis. During our four days in Padang, staff members took us out to the communities to meet with people who had benefited from our help. It was obvious that our staff had built relationships with these people and clearly invested time in getting to know them and their stories. They weren’t confined to the eight-hour workday. Traveling to communities meant sometimes being on the road for two hours each way, which also meant taking work home at the end of the day.

In addition to working in the communities or in the office, the staff also work closely with other aid agencies and the local government. One thing I learned about disaster response is that coordination is key. When an earthquake hits, especially one as large as the one in Haiti, the rest of the world wonders why it takes so long for food and water to get out to the survivors. Often, the key players are involved in coordination meetings to clarify what the needs are, and to ensure that efforts aren’t duplicated. If there was no coordination whatsoever, some communities could get aid from several agencies, while other communities get overlooked by everyone. Or, if there’s one particular agency that specializes in, for example, setting up shelters, it only makes sense that it would assist the community that has the greatest need for shelter.

So when a disaster strikes, the national staff want to be helping survivors right away, but it’s important for them to be in coordination meetings with other players. At the same time, they’re fielding calls and emails from the support offices for information. What’s going on? How many people have been affected? Were any sponsored children impacted? What will our response look like? On top of that, maybe they’re dealing with a power outage, road blockages, or maybe their own family is dealing with the disaster. It’s no wonder they don’t get much sleep.

I came home with a great sense of awe, admiration and respect for my colleagues in Padang. I felt energized and motivated to do my work, simply from being around them. On a personal level, I was surprised how comfortable I felt with them right away. Maybe it was because they, too, were Asian. They were short, young (and young-looking)…and they were familiar with Meteor Garden. :) But more importantly, I was inspired by their dedication, hard work and compassion for their work and the people there.

I also was a bit envious of their direct connection with the community. We (in our office) are constantly reminded that the work we do is important – essential, in fact, to the work that our organization does as a whole. I know that. But during those days in Padang, when I was so far removed from my stuffy cubicle on the 2nd floor, my heart really yearned for a more direct connection with the people we help. I want to be as enthusiastic about the people I work with. But on the days when my clients are disrespectful and inconsiderate, I have a really, really, really hard time feeling joyful about my work. I joke that our team is at the bottom of the ladder, but I sadly also believe it.

This trip has given me a greater understanding and appreciation of our partners around the world, and it’s also given me insight as to how our writing team could serve them better. Interestingly enough, the trip also expanded my vision to explore ways that I could follow my passions to help others in ways that also are most fulfilling for me. I’m not sure at all what that really looks like or what that means yet, but I imagine I’ll discover that one day.

For a visual of my trip, check out my online photo gallery.

I’ve been wondering how to describe Harry Potter Land (aka Wizarding World of Harry Potter), but I discovered that my fellow Harry Pothead has already written up something for her own blog. Join me in welcoming my very first guest blogger, Melanie, and her summary of our adventure at Harry Potter Land…

When we arrived at Hogsmeade, we were eager to first find Harry, Ron and Hermione so we could join them on their Forbidden Journey. There were hordes of Muggles everywhere; we could barely find our way through the crowds. We looked up at the street sign that told us Hogwarts was to the west, and we knew our wizarding friends would meet us there. Hogwarts castle could be seen in the distance, and we could already feel the excitement erupting within us.

As we rushed to the castle we noted that since it was early enough in the morning, it would only be 15 minutes before we were reunited with our fellow Gryffindors. After we stowed our parcels into lockers, we filed our way into the Herbology Greenhouse. The temperature was extremely hot and humid, but thankfully, Professor Sprout anticipated our arrival and set up fans all around so we could stay cool as we found our way through her class and into Hogwarts castle.

As we entered Hogwarts, through the halls, we passed the Potions classroom, passed the portrait of the Fat Lady and found our way into the Gryffindor common room. Still no sign of Harry, Ron or Hermione. Where could they be? We traveled deeper into the castle and arrived at the entrance to Professor Dumbledore’s office. If only we could remember his latest password to get in. Was it Lemon Drops?

When we passed the giant phoenix at the front of Professor Dumbledore’s office, through a hall of large, hanging portraits of previous headmasters in lively conversation about all the new Muggles that were traipsing in and disturbing their peace, we found Dumbledore standing on the deck of his office, waiting patiently for us, as if he knew to expect us at this exact moment. No wonder he was the greatest wizard of all time.

Dumbledore was talking to us about the journey we had ahead, and as we passed his pensieve and all his spinning trinkets, we bid him good-bye and continued our search for Harry and everyone else. To our pleasant surprise, we found them in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. They snuck in under Harry’s invisibility cloak and told us their plan to get us to their Forbidden Journey. Ron accidentally made it snow, but as soon as Hermione stopped the actual snowflakes from falling, we continued our way to the Room of Requirement where our journey would begin.

As we stepped onto our magical bench, with the handy use of Floo Powder, Hermione sends us to the top of the Observatory and away we go!

We see Harry up ahead on his Firebolt and hope to follow him to his Quidditch match. Except we are quickly interrupted by the giant dragon that Harry challenged at his TriWizard tournament! We lose Harry and the dragon chases us through the Hogwarts bridge and breathes fire at us, sending us into high-pitched shrieks!

After we lose the dragon, there is still no rest as we find ourselves now lost in the Forbidden Forest. Where did Harry go? Slowly, we see Aragog lowering closer to us, calling all of his giant spider friends to shoot venom at us in hopes of turning us into a hearty meal! We are suddenly whipped away and tossed around, and find ourselves looking for the source of our getaway from Aragog, only to find we’re stuck in the Whomping Willow with its violent tree trunks knocking us from side to side!

But through it all, we’re knocked back onto the Quidditch Pitch where we finally see Harry and Ron up ahead on their broomsticks. Flying through a game of Quidditch was spellbinding! We flew by the three golden rings with what would have been an amazing view of the game, if it weren’t for Draco taunting Harry about inviting all his new Muggle friends to the game.

We follow Draco and Harry down below the stands where they tumble with each other on their broomsticks, but no one is safe when Dementors suddenly appear! The Dementors were everywhere, surrounding us, and there was no escaping them. They were too fast and chased us into the Chamber of Secrets where they tried to give us the Dementors Kiss! We could see their insides and their faces up close as they drew us closer to suck out every happy feeling from inside of us.

When Harry finally found us again, as he cast his Patronus charm against the Dementors, the whole Chamber began to cave in! The walls were falling and we were dodging the falling ceiling pieces as we made our narrow escape out of the Chamber with Harry leading the way.

And we made it out! We saw the open air and the vastness of the Black Lake outside of Hogwarts as Harry led us safely back inside of Hogwarts where we were greeted and cheered for by all our wizarding friends! Ron and Hermione were there, the Weasley brothers, and even Dumbledore came to see us again to remind us to pick up our stowed parcels upon our departure. We waved farewell and thanked them all for their hospitality and warmth as we finished our magical journey with them.

We left Hogwarts castle feeling exhilarated and eager for more. We knew there was so much more to see and do in this wizarding world; we still needed to visit Hagrid and his flying Hippogriffs, we needed to challenge the other Champions of the TriWizard Tournament on their flying dragons, we needed to make our way back to Hogsmeade to find Ollivander so we could get our wands, and have our meal at the 3 Broomsticks with butterbeer and pumpkin juice, and go on a shopping spree at Honeydukes and Zonko’s… but all of that could wait just a little bit longer, because first, we needed to experience the Forbidden Journey just one more time… !!

Vacation posts are always challenging. How do I sum up an amazing week? Do people really want a play-by-play of everything we did? I’m still coming down off of the high of all the Harry Potter craziness from the last two days (not to mention several days of fun and relaxation before that), and I’m not ready to post a full blog about everything yet. I just typed up a long e-mail to ET with very specific details about Harry Potter Land (HPL), but it’s a little too detailed and lengthy to post here. There are too many details for mere Muggles to be concerned with. Don’t worry, though, I eventually will blog about my experience in Florida and, more specifically, HPL. In the meantime, enjoy these photos. (This was only half of what Abby and I photographed, and doesn’t include Melanie’s photos or videos!)

One thing ET and I discussed before my trip was whether or not HPL would spoil everything for Harry Potter fans. I think one thing that really draws us to HP is the fantasy and magic of Hogwarts, of Hogsmeade, of being in world that we can only dream of (but I could do without the dementors and Death Eaters – although I’d probably have a crush on Draco if we were at Hogwarts). It’s such a different world from our reality, but there are enough similarities to draw us in, and to tease us with the notion that maybe we’re simply the Muggles, and that Harry’s world really does exist.

Thanks to the books and the movies, Hogwarts and all that goes on there live in our imaginations. While filmmakers have given us hints on what it looks like, we’ve created variations of Harry’s world in our heads. And, as most HP fans will probably admit, I place myself in his world, too. I’m there in the common room, celebrating Quidditch victories, studying hard with other students, walking through the halls wearing my Hogwarts robe, and pigging out in the Great Hall underneath floating candles.

Now that we have an opportunity to experience that world firsthand, is it the same? The world of Harry Potter in our head is the one that’s in the books and the movies – the one where dishes are done with the flick of a wand, where plants shriek when pulled out of the soil, where winged creatures carry you above the Whomping Willow, and where love and happiness produce a Patronus to ward off evil.

But, as much as Universal can try, that isn’t the world that’s in Orlando. Despite the snow-capped stores and realistic icicles, there isn’t snow crunching underfoot, and we don’t need our robes to keep us warm until the Butterbeer kicks in. We won’t see footprints made by Harry as he walks by wearing his Invisibility Cloak. The toads don’t really sing, the Pensieve really doesn’t show you someone’s memories, and the only amazing thing about the wands is that parents are spending $30 to buy their kids sticks that they’ll probably abandon within a week. People certainly never line up to enter Ollivander’s wand shop, and you’ll never see anyone in tank tops and shorts in the real Hogsmeade.

So does this mean Universal is going to disappoint HP fans with a world that could never live up to our imaginations? For me (and the thousands who have already visited), the experience certainly did not disappoint. If anything, it transported me to a place that I know I’ll never experience, and allowed me to somewhat live out my imaginations.

Experiencing HPL with Abby and Melanie made it even more special. Whenever we do HP activities (like getting together to play HP Scene-It, making sweatshirts, going to the Hollywood Walk of Fame, etc.), we become silly Harry Potheads, giggling and shrieking about everything. It’s not something we can do in our normal everyday lives in our cubes or in the classroom. We’re grown adults with responsibilities who welcome opportunities to not act our age, and to be giddy about something that is pure fiction. Being with them merely increased the excitement and enthusiasm of HPL. You should have seen all the cheering and jumping up and down simply from ironing letters onto tank tops. As we drove on the highways of Florida, we cheered every time we saw Harry Potter billboards (and there were a lot of them!), turned up the radio every time we heard the theme song on the Harry Potter commercials, and screamed when we got our first glimpse of the top of Hogwarts.

If anything, visiting HPL made us even MORE excited about Harry’s world (if that’s even possible). We talked about wanting to read all the books again and watch all the movies again, and we threw around ideas for our next HP project (glass-etched Butterbeer mugs?) and our next event (watching the final movie together on opening night?).

My two apprehensions about HPL were the crowds and the heat. I hate crowds, but what I hate even more is heat. I sweat when the temperature hits 80, even in dry heat. At Universal Studios, the Harry Potter section is the most crowded in the whole park, and the weather was so warm and muggy that we had sweaty spots on our shirts. Yet, amazingly enough, my spirit wasn’t dampened one bit by those two things while I was in Hogsmeade. That place must truly be magical.

Last week, one of my favorite writers, Anne Lamott, was in town. The type of writing that I feel most comfortable and compelled to do sort of mirrors the type of nonfiction writing that she does. I don’t want to say that I want to write like Anne Lamott because then people will just say, “She wants to be the next Anne Lamott.” Not such a bad idea, but comparing yourself to someone else just means that if you are more like yourself than the person you’re comparing yourself to, you will have seemed to miss your mark. (Does that make sense?)

I like Anne Lamott’s short essay format that describes a situation in her life, with deeper meaning pulled out of the mundane. This is what goes on in my head all the time. I think that’s why I am so comfortable with solitude. I’m much more comfortable creating a monologue in my head than trying to make small talk with other people.

I didn’t make a point to get to Anne Lamott’s reading early or even on time, so I got stuck in the back of the crowd. A short person in the back of a standing-room only situation is never good. Keba showed up, and tried to find holes in the crowd where I might be able to see Anne’s head. On tiptoe in some spots, I could barely make out the roots of her dreads. “She looks just like she does in her books,” Keba said.

She read about 10 minutes of her latest novel, which I really had no interest in. I’m a much bigger fan of her nonfiction work. When she opened the floor up for her questions, I thought, “This is it! She’s going to inspire me with her advice on writing!” And then the questions came. From where I was standing, I couldn’t hear what was being asked, but I could pretty much guess what they were based on her answers. She gave advice to a parent of a toddler on how to stay in touch with her child when he/she became a teenager. To another parent, she said, “If you think something is wrong in your child’s life, something probably is.” *yawn*, I thought.

I was sorely disappointed. If I could have pressed my way to the front of the crowd (or better yet, dropped on a stretcher through the roof of Barnes & Nobles by caring friends), I would have asked her how she overcame the hurdle of baring her soul and not caring what other people thought of her. Honestly, that is what keeps me from being completely candid whenever I put anything down on paper (and online). “My parents don’t know this or that about me. What will they think?” “I know so and so reads this and would probably be offended if I wrote this.” I censor myself, knowing who reads my blog. I seriously care too much what people think of me, so I want to know how she does it. How can she be open with her thoughts and experiences without wondering if future encounters with friends and family will be awkward? Or it just that I think my friends and family are more judgmental than they really are?

Yesterday after a very fun and inspiring interview with my next blog interviewee (hopefully to be posted within the next week or so), I was hugely inspired to be more disciplined about writing (again). And, with perfect timing, I received an alert from the library that a book was waiting for me: Anne Lamott’s “Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life.” I’d read the book already but wanted to reread it.

During my lunch break today, I started rereading the book while walking around the parking lot. Just by reading her intro alone on how she became interested in writing, the urge to pick up and pen and jot down my thoughts was so strong. When she talked about how much she loved reading and writing, I grinned and wanted to cheer, “YES!! That’s me!!” But there I was, in the middle of the parking lot, with only 10 minutes left before I had to return to my cube to work. To write, nonetheless, but not for myself.

Maybe my words aren’t inspiring, but I can at least share with you some of Anne’s that have spoken to me:

Writing has so much to give, so much to teach, so many surprises. That thing you had to force yourself to do – the actual act of writing – turns out to be the best part. It’s like discovering that while you thought you needed the tea ceremony for the caffeine, what you really needed was the tea ceremony. The act of writing turns out to be its own reward.

…for some of us, books are as important as anything else on earth. What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet or excite you. Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave. They show us what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die. They are full of all the things that you don’t get in real life…And quality of attention: we may notice amazing details during the course of a day but we rarely let ourselves stop and really pay attention. An author makes you notice, makes you pay attention, and this is a great gift.

(BTW, pics from the flash mob and my parents’ weekend in Seattle are now up in my Picasa gallery!)