My Heart in Israel

So it's day time right now and it actually feels like day time in my body. Kind of. At least I'm not dozing off every 20 minutes and having to spend 5 minutes upon waking up trying to figure out where I am. It is much harder to adjust to coming back from a time-zone change like that (10 hours ahead) than it is going into it. But we're back from Israel.

I still have to pinch myself every morning that we were there. It was incredible, to say the least. It was life-changing. It was different, and uncomfortable, and so painfully beautiful. It was smelly and noisy and stressful and relaxing and I didn't like the food and I loved the people and some things scared me and other things inspired me and the climate was a lot like Phoenix, which my skin was happy about.

My current project is furiously writing down each day's itinerary in my journal. I'm spending my lunch breaks chewing pen caps and going through photos, trying to piece together what we did each day by looking at what I was wearing in each picture. We saw so much. We went all over that beautiful, stubborn country and I loved every single inch and footstep.

I'm planning to share more about the sites we saw and all that we learned in this blog, but what I want to write about right now is a feeling; or a lesson I learned or at least wrestled with while I was there. It turns out being where Jesus lived and walked and taught and wept dredges up some stuff, you know?

Before I go any further, though, I have to give a shout out to Morning Star Tours. If you are ever planning a trip to the Holy Land, USE THEM. And request Shmulik as your guide. He is an absolute ENCYCLOPEDIA on Israel, Jesus, the Old Testament, and British accents. I can't imagine what our trip would've been like without him - each site was absolutely fascinating but we were never sorry to have to get back on the bus because he would have some ridiculous story to tell.

So, being in Jerusalem was really something. It was a culture shock, first and foremost. The food seemed strange, the people were somewhat rude, the shop keepers were aggressive and every structure was drop-dead gorgeous. On our second day, we visited the temple steps that were built during King Herod's Second Temple Period. This Herod is the one that died right around the time Jesus was born, and this is the temple Jesus would have visited. Herod made the steps difficult to navigate - one long step, one narrow, one long, one narrow and etc. - so that people couldn't run down them away from the temple. (This wasn't a holy thing. This was a money thing, I'm guessing.)

And in front of the steps are dozens and dozens of little stone structures (they reminded me of the "famine houses" we saw in the Burren in Ireland) that Shmulik said were the ritual baths, where Jews would have washed themselves before going up to the temple courtyard.

Jesus walked up these very steps, and He likely spent some time teaching on them as well, because that was common back then. I wanted to sleep on them. To eat on them. To spend the whole rest of our trip on them. I wanted to look in every single direction from them and wonder "did he see this?" And I wanted to touch them and take them with me.

But at the same time all I could suddenly hear was Mark 2:17, where Jesus tells the Pharisees that He didn't come for the righteous, but for the sinners; because it's not the healthy who need a doctor.

I have no idea where it came from.

I was not sitting there thinking I am "righteous" or not a sinner. What I was thinking was - I am a boring sinner. I am an ugly sinner but a boring one; I don't cheat people out of money and I'm not a prostitute. I believe in Jesus but I lie and I'm lazy and I manipulate people and I'm proud. But these are boring and not showy and not always noticeable. And suddenly I had this thought - He would've ignored me! If we had been here at the same time, He would've ignored me.

It's like that feeling in school, when maybe you're doing really well in a subject so the teacher gives all her attention to the kids who are struggling, and suddenly you feel left out and sad. And again it's not that I was thinking "I am perfect so I wouldn't have needed him," it's that I was thinking "I already believed in Him, so would He have wasted time on me?" Or, maybe more accurately, "I wonder if He would have liked me enough to spend time with me" and then, answering, "no."

I went around for days ruminating on that, mourning over it, even waking up in the middle of the night in our hotel and crying over it. It broke my heart. To think He would've ignored me. And I started journaling about what I wanted - what did I want? I didn't know. I wanted Him to tell me that He wouldn't've ignored me; that He's not ignoring me now; that I mean something to Him. And then I realized that if He told me those things, I would think less of Him. Who am I that He'd think of me? Do I want a God who would? Could He still be Power and Might then?

As the days went on and we went to more and more places, I wouldn't say I ever came to terms with it, just that it softened to make room for all the other things going on in me - wonder, gratitude, repeat. It was such an unbelievable gift to be there and I felt that, and it made me feel loved even despite.

But when I got home I was talking to my mentor about it and she smiled a little bit and asked me - are you the "healthy?"

Then she brought up the story of the 99 sheep, and the one goes missing, and He goes after it. I said, yes! Perfect example! I'm the 99. The timid, boring ones who are easily hearded and scared to toe the line; never the squeaky wheel. And now I'm feeling hurt that He's ignoring me for the one.

(Now I picture Jesus taking off his glasses, rubbing his eyes, and sighing, because how do I manage to get every single thing wrong?)

"We're all the one," my mentor said. "That's the point."

We're all the sick. Who knew that could be so difficult to figure out? Or that it could make someone so happy?

More to come.

Las Vegas in Pictures

I'm in a funk this week and it's just no good. I know what I need and I can't do it, but I can dream about it. What I need is a rainy afternoon in the fall. Nobody needs me to be anywhere. Glazed donut holes. Louisville High School sweatpants and a sweatshirt that's too big for me. Nichole Nordeman's cover of "Time after Time" on repeat.

That's it. I can't have that though, and I am in a funk. In the meantime, I'm going to tell you all about Las Vegas. Last weekend we drove the four hours up to Nevada, a state Aar and I had never been to before, hurrah. My sister Jen and her husband and his brother are there this week for a convention so we went up to see them.

Please to enjoy the picture show.

Jen and I at dinner

Garden in the Wynn

 


New York New York. We rode the roller coaster.

 

Jen and I, the Wynn pool which was delicious



tulip sculpture - I think at the Palazzo?

 


A sleepy Aaron Michael and I shopping (and spending way too much money at Anthropologie) at Caesar's Palace, and a tower of delicious cupcakes. I got the Snickerdoodle and oh my. Yes to that.

 

Rainbow on the way home



Hoover Dam and a storm













We Went to a Cabin, Etc.

It's been a while since I've written around here and I totally have a complex about it. You should see me when I haven't written in my journal in a while. My palms get really sweaty and I spend at least two pages apologizing first. (To a journal.) (Now try to imagine my prayer life. OOF!)

 Anyway it's just been a busy season, is all. We're in the middle of the busiest time of year at work, and AB and I have had our fair share of extracurriculars as well. (I even got an endoscopy, for fun! It was really great.)

 But here I am now, to write, to regale you with tales of Life on Libby Street and all related nonsense and things. Aaron is playing another riveting game of college basketball on Xbox and Jethro is napping while squarely facing the front door TO BE READY FOR INTRUDERS. And I just spent 20 minutes praying over a Bible verse Aaron assigned me this evening to deal with my frantic heart. It worked, and it made me want to write.

 So does this past weekend.

 I don't know how Aar and I keep finding ourselves surrounded by and loved on by these incredibly generous people. It occurs to me that in our relatively short time together, as college punks and now young married twenty-somethings with not much money, we've vacationed (and honeymooned) in an unbelievable condo in Fort Lauderdale (for free), we've spent every anniversary in swanky hotels at discount rates thanks to my first job and the connections I still have from it (shout out, Morgie), we've taken whirlwind trips to Hollywood and LA and hung out on rooftops and the sets of TV shows, we've stood on the dock the Titanic was built on, and now we've skipped town for a weekend in this breathtaking cabin up in Pinetop, AZ. Because someone offered it to us.

 Pinetop is just like, I mean, it is like, well I don't know. It's like a place where things LIVE. Not where they go to die (the desert.) It's green and rainy and hilly and high (6,000 feet or so, I'm told). The houses have carved wooden bears on the front porches announcing the owners' names. (Are the owners bears? This is a burning question) There are hanging plants. It stormed TWICE. There is a local barbecue joint. Why in the world is Phoenix where people decided Arizona's main city should be? This is what happens when I'm not consulted on these things.

 The porch of this place was bigger than our house; I didn't measure but I know it in my deepest heart of hearts and I am absolutely ok with it. This is the porch. LOOK AT THIS PORCH.

Seriously, we spent the entire weekend out there if you must know; even in the rain. We hammocked. We read books. I wrote some freelance assignments. We read our Bibles. We drank tea. We watched it storm. We talked about our favorite teachers in high school. We talked about the Lord. We talked about each other.

 We couldn't bring ourselves to leave, even for food, so we cooked all our meals in the kitchen inside, with a glass of wine never far away (well we cooked everything with the exception of the local barbecue, WORTH IT). And that's pretty much all we did. All weekend.

 Except we also watched Friday Night Lights.

 Ok listen, it's kind of getting out of hand with the Friday Night Lights at the Baer house. I have been wanting to write about it for a while because it MAKES ME FEEL FEELINGS but I haven't wanted to because I don't want some party pooper to say OH! I LOVE that show! and then proceed to tell me things about it that I don't know yet. (So don't be that guy, is what I'm saying, I will ban you from this blog. And then where will you go for your nonsense reading? HUH?)

Honestly, how do I write about this show? Shall I compare you to a summer's day, Friday Night Lights? Seriously I know I might sound dramatic and this might just be because we're still in the middle of watching it but I'm pretty sure this is my favorite show on television. Ever. (Star Wars wasn't a TV show so we're good.)

 I'm going to write about why I love it and why it's going to save the world and why it's giving me renewed faith in humanity in a little bit. I have to collect my thoughts first. Also just an FYI I have loved Kyle Chandler ever since he was Gary Hobson getting tomorrow's newspaper today, so you can just back off, because we have a history. (My sister and I were so obsessed with that show that our neighbor, whom we used to babysit for, once saw a profile of Kyle Chandler in the newspaper and clipped it out and brought it down to our house for us. In the rain. This is what it's like to be me.)

 So for now, why don't you fire up your Netflix and start watching it so we can talk about it in a little bit.

Sorry I haven't written in so long (THE GUILT)

Lately I've Been

I was overwhelmed with the response to my last post. It was pretty heavy and a bit aggressive (at least that's how I felt about it) but I was really touched by a lot of your feedback. Thank you for that. It occurs to me that my blog is becoming somewhat of a theological experiment, which is funny to me because I consider myself to be very far from an expert in such matters. But I like talking about it and I hope (and it would seem) that you do to. So we move forward.

For today's issue of Maria Dot Com, however, we are going to hang on the lighter side of things with me giving you a generously long update on what I've been up to lately, full of just the sorts of minute details that surely are keeping you up at night.

1. Listening to
I finally synced up my iPhone with my iTunes. A year after buying the phone. Because I had an old version of iTunes and my computer wouldn't allow me to update it without first deleting the program and I was afraid I'd lose my library, and like, I need my LFO Summer Girls to be with me forever, you know? Anyway I took the plunge the other night and it didn't even delete my library, which honestly makes me kind of mad at this point. All of this to say I then promptly bought the new Eisley album and am in melody heaven. They are like sirens. And "Drink the Water." Oh my gosh.

2. Watching
We've started Scrubs over again on Netflix. Elliot's hair: yes. I'm sad there aren't a lot of good new shows right now. Maybe there are and I'm unaware? Please do tell.

3. Reading
I just finished "Wild" by Cheryl Strayed and loved it. It was vulnerable and lovely and her adventure was a page-turner. My only critique is... oh goodness, this is going to be very predictable. My critique is that she never found God. Seriously, that's my critique. Because when you go on a long, soul-searching journey, it is unrealistic that you find "peace" or "happiness" when you finally simply realize that you are imperfect and so is life so just enjoy it happy face! 'Just Do Whatever You Want' doesn't bring peace OR joy and any serious or seriously honest writer wouldn't try to pretend it did. Unless they are in denial, which is probably the case for a lot of us, Cheryl included.

Now I'm on to "I Was Told There'd be Cake" by Sloane Crosley. Research.

4. Doing
This past weekend we went to San Diego in the spur of the moment. It was Tuesday or so of last week when Aaron and I said to each other, darling, we have three free days and a beach not far away! How could we not? We couldn't not, is how, so we did, and it was lovely. Hotwire.com is my new best friend except the Manchester Hyatt, while fabulous, is not skilled in warming up their room service apple pie that is evidently pre-made and then frozen to a temperature colder than the Arctic Circle. Other than the Apple Pie Debacle of 2013 (seriously, try having eating issues but then talking yourself into permission to have your favorite dessert JUST THIS ONCE and then have the hotel mess it up. DISASTER) the hotel was lovely and we got to look at this all weekend.

We also went to Coronado Island.

Then we went to the San Diego Zoo and I died for sheer love of every second. (Mom tells me that we didn't like to go to the zoo as kids. That has to be complete hogwash; I remember very distinctly the poster I had of Shamu hanging in my room, though yes, that was purchased at the gift shop of Sea World and not the zoo but it is my love of animals that I'm trying to defend here. Anyway Mom says "you guys never wanted to go to the zoo!" and I spend the next 5 minutes frantically wondering if I really know myself at all and then Mom qualifies it with telling me that the Columbus Zoo shared a driveway with Wyandot Lake, which was a water park, and every time we drove up that drive way we (kids) chose the water park. UM, OBVI? We were children. That does not mean I did not love a squishy adorable elephant butt as much as the next person. Just that I liked wave pools more at that particular moment of my life.

Anyhow here are lots of pictures but not as many as I wanted to post, you're welcome.

Tiger

BREAKING: ELEPHANT BUTT

PANDA BUTT TAKES THE LEAD

SERIOUSLY LOOK AT THIS PANDA THAT IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND

Quick break to help the zoo bus up the hill, I work out

Grizzly.

Koala!

After the zoo we went to La Jolla. It was so very gorgeous. But it made my heart a bit achy for those Carolina beaches. Carolina beaches know how to be beaches, you know? California beaches are like, towns that don't realize there's a beach right there. Not enough "Gone fishin'" signs and condos named "Seaside Dunes" and such, if you know what I mean.

5. Thinking About
Writing a story. Or a novel. Something pretty. This is what I'd like to do.

6. Praying For
My Ma. She's the sickest healthy person you'd ever meet. She's in the hospital this week with pancreatitis. Add her to your list too?

And just what have you been doing lately?

California and the Reynolds and Dexter and also did I mention Dexter?

Now let me just tell you something about California.

I think California is the most perfect place on earth. It is simultaneously Ohio in the spring when life isn't half bad and a summery beach where your hair gets wavy and you don't even mind. It does not get very cold. It does not get Arizona-hot. It gets leaves in the fall. The southern part does not get snow. It has mountains and palm trees. It is perfect. BUT WE'VE RUINED IT, DUMMIES. Gas is $400 a gallon and beer is $15 for a six-pack and you have to pay 5 dollars to drive in the left lane of the highway now (not kidding.) I mean?! Oh man, I would live there in a heartbeat. I really would. But then I'd have to live under a bridge. Probably a great bridge, with great weather, but where would I plug in my hair dryer, you know? These are the questions.

Aaron, Ben and I just had such a great freaking weekend two weeks ago in California with the freaking greatest people you will ever meet, the Reynolds fam. Scott writes for Dexter, Amy is a boot camping interior designer, Mr. Zane shreds the guitar and little miss roller derby Audrey loves the Beatles (but CANNOT choose a favorite song. Maybe Blackbird. WE DON'T KNOW.) So we hung around Pasadena with them and ate great food and went to Amoeba Records in Hollywood AND got to play pretend on the set of Dexter. And then we were extras - sorry sorry "background artists" on Dexter.

On Friday we got "reflexology" massages for $25 in Pasadena. Then we had sushi. Then we snooped around the Dexter set.

On Saturday we went to Manhattan Beach and rented bikes. We (by "we" I mean "I") got sunburned on our nose and oh my gosh we did not even care one little bit. Then we got ice cream.

On Saturday night, the dudes had "Western Night" and the ladies went out to eat at an adorable cafe called Mike & Anne's and we talked about life and how it hurts sometimes but is also very lovely.

On Sunday we went to Mosaic Church in Hollywood and were overcome with the amount of talent that people in this world have. We loved the service. But we were also overcome with the feeling of being the most giant nerd on the planet. Then we resolved to start a personal campaign to become cooler; buying a denim vest being the first task on our list; and then we remembered we were in church and we said sorry for being so shallow, but then we prayed for a little help in becoming cooler, and then we were back on the denim vest.

After church we went to Stout and we tried gluten-free beer and it wasn't half-bad, hippies.

Then we went to Amoeba and left with some great Mazzy Star and Nada Surf and Edward Sharp loot.

Then we went home to take naps and work on our freelance assignments.

Then we went to a steakhouse where they cook your food in front of you. Seeing Audrey's reaction as this happened may have been the best part of the weekend?

ON MONDAY WE WERE ON DEXTER. We were at the location shooting for many, many hours. A lady did my hair. We did the same scene many many many many times. And it was probably the most fun day of my life (outside of my wedding and that one time at Cedar Point when they let us stay on the Millenium Force without getting off because there was no one in line. Also once I had a Star Wars marathon all day and that was pretty great too but my point is that being on Dexter was freaking really fun.)

We got to watch Michael C. Hall and Jennifer Carpenter and everyone else in action while they rehearsed and tried different lines different ways and all of that. I wish I could tell you more but I cannot. It will be the 5th episode of this season. You must watch.

Also I think I would like to be a Director, or an Assistant Director. Do you know anyone who needs Directing? Or I would also settle for a Famous Actor. Do you know anyone who needs Famous Acting?

Here are some pictures. TOO BAD I CAN'T SHOW YOU MORE! (I am the coolest person you know.)

With Amy and Ben and Dex's boat

Miami PD

Dex's Couch: Not Too Comfortable

AHH

Dex's desk.



Dexter's Bed: Also Not Comfortable

 

Hollywood sign outside of Sunset Gower Studios

Bikes in Manhattan Beach

Coolest Fam Ever

Seriously, thank you, Reynolds. 

This post is coming to you kind of late, if you're into timing blog posts and things, but we have been crazy busy. After CA, Mom and Dad were in town, which constituted a lot of pizza joints and a sun burn out by the pool, and this coming weekend we are going camping at the Grand Canyon in what is sure to be another photo-essay-worthy venture, wouldn't you agree?

So forgive my absence. I'll be back soon.

To tide you over, I've saved the best photo for last. IT IS DEXTER'S REFRIGERATOR



Bullet Points Episode 4

1. Hi. We went to Ohio for Thanksgiving last week. It was wonderful as usual. The best part was all of it. Here is a picture of the new family dog playing football with Aaron and Joey. Her name is Rosie and she lacks all social grace and judgment and will immediately lick your face upon meeting you, not unlike Aaron. I like her but hope for an improvement in manners when I see her again at Christmas.

The rest of my family was fine, too, though not without their own manner issues (I think my brother cheats at Trivial Pursuit but the investigation is ongoing.) Here is ol' Pops carving the bird, which was delish. Isn't it weird that turkeys say "gobble gobble" and that's what we do to them? (That joke fell uncomfortably flat at Thanksgiving but I know how good it truly is.)

2. We flew home last Sunday and I immediately went to Paradise Bakery to get us some healthy soup for lunch because my stomach was so full of sugar and icing and icing made out of sugar, and stuffing and gravy and icing, though the icing was not on the gravy nor made out of gravy. As I was in line, a wondrous thing happened. There was a nice lady. She was very prim and proper. She was probably in her 40's. She was wearing a nice floral-printed skirt and had presumably just come from a meeting of a religious nature, it being Sunday around 12:00 pm and all. And there she was, very feminine and polite as she ordered her sandwich, and then she looked over her shoulder, and then went for it. She picked a big ol' wedgie, ya'llsies. IT WAS AWESOME. I know, lady. I know. There's something just unacceptably uncomfortable about underwears right up your butt. Sometimes you weigh the social unacceptability against the discomfort unacceptability and the discomfort is way more unacceptable. We're pragmatic, you and me. I applaud you and I bet you were super comfortable while you ate your french onion soup.

3. After the soup and a brief nap, Christmas threw up in my apartment and I wasn't even mad. We have stockings and a tree and a wreath and a little ceramic Christmas train (there are always trains! Do trains come out at Christmas?) and I even made Snickerdoodles, though that had less to do with Christmas and more to do with my debilitating sense of guilt after our neighbors watched Jethro while we were in Ohio and wouldn't accept payment, so I gave them Snickerdoodles instead. Nonetheless, they featured green and red sprinkles so the Christmas spirit was still very much alive.

(Jethro acted as if he had done all the work. Unlike us. Unlike Aaron. I...I didn't do anything.

Also while we were decorating we tried out a new grilled salmon recipe on the, you know, grill. It's surreal to grill outside in shorts and socks while hanging tinsel, but I don't want to start being someone who overuses "surreal" and I feel like I'm getting close to that, so let's just call it "life." It was life to grill out while hanging tinsel.

Before I wrote this post, I made an outline of it, and yes, it was as grand as you're imagining.

Bye!

Outside, Creation Groans

Yesterday when I was driving home from yoga I caught a whiff of something outside of my car window and I could feel my eyebrows shoot up in an attempt to NAME. THE. SMELL. "Why is this familiar? Why is it unfamiliar? What is it?" I asked myself. Then, I realized what it was. It was wetness.

Someone was watering their grass. That's the only explanation anyway, because I don't think it's rained for at least a month. I couldn't see the water but it made its way into my veins.

It smelled like wet earth, like a cool breeze with dirt on its fingers.

Immediately I sighed and felt sad, and looked - literally, looked with my eyes - anrigly at the concrete road I was driving on. You're so damn dry! No one likes dryness like that! The road thinks it's a talent to bake so furiously. It's not, its just pointless stubornness.

Inexplicably (but predicatbly?) my mind wandered to Thailand. If I can't be somewhere with naturally wet earth, how is it possible I'm not, then, in Thailand? We went to Ireland a few months ago, which was on my list. Thailand is on my list, too. So is Israel. But as I was smelling the painfully beautiful wet earth and thinking on Thailand, I suddenly realized that I was framing my thoughts a bit differently than I usually do, when they are flying across the oceans. I didn't feel anxious. I didn't feel urgent, or guilty. I didn't feel like the fact that I was driving home in sweat-soaked spandex on a ridiculously cracked-earth road in Phoenix meant I was wasting something. (Time? Me?) That was revolutionary, to start.

Then I saw a woman walking down the sidewalk, with a stroller, and I imagined what her day had been like. Maybe she had been at home all day. Not even a shower to speak of. Was she ok with that? Were her thoughts in Thailand?

And of course I then transposed myself in front of that stroller, with a showerless day behind me, and something clicked. Of course nothing was wasted. There was a little person in front of me that I Gave Up Things for. The world isn't huge, it's tiny. Full of people who either give things up or don't, and I want to be one who gives them up. That's what I was made for. That's how we work. We're not working right now because we're not giving things up.

You would think that the world feeling smaller to me would be sad, or would mean a loss of some kind of dreaminess or innocence. It's not! It's a deep sigh of relief! If me being here means I have Something to give up; Something that someone else needs, then I couldn't waste me if I tried. Thailand or no, the sidewalk of a dry road with a stroller is Thailand and everywhere else. It could be all of me, one day.

It made me think of a beautiful lyric I heard one, from a song I love - "Outside, creation groans..."

The road was groaning, and so was I, because there's so much to do and see and be, and we aren't doing and seeing and being all of them. But! To know that we're groaning for a home that we can have - with a Creator who gave me Things to Give Up - that makes the groaning sweet. Sweet like a sore-muscled sigh after 90 minutes of Bikram.

Anniversary 3

We went to Tucson this weekend to play Rich People for a few days and celebrate the fact that Aaron Michael picked me three years ago. 

We watched movies, ordered room service (OMG THE COOKIES), hung out by the pool and ate at the Westin La Paloma's swanky restaurant. AND we got massages. The view from our room was pretty gorgeous (see bottom right) but I think my view at dinner was even better. (wink wink flirt flirt. Seriously, though. What a hunk.)

We've taken that hand picture every year, starting with our honeymoon when we were sitting in an empty little cafe in Key West and admiring our new jewelry. It's getting fun to build up these memories - we've taken some awesome anniversary trips over these past three years.

Every year I pinch myself and thank God for being so smart. When I married AB 3 years ago I knew I loved him and that he was the bees knees, but there are so many things about him I didn't know then but that are such important attributes in a partner. He works hard, he is responsible, he cares about doing things right, he has integrity when it'd be easy not to... and every time he shows me one of these things I think - how smart am I? I didn't even KNOW how good your scrambled eggs were when I married you! Bonus!

Sometimes it's easy to get overwhelmed by things in my life that make me feel sad or worried or anxious, but it's a cold splash of water to realize that through everything, I have this smiley guy right next to me. He is the absolute best and I love him with my whole, entire heart. Here's to a million more, bud.

Camping Photo Essay

On Friday night, despite the threat of bear attacks,West Nile Virus, and/or becoming hippies, the courageous three of us decided it was more important to escape the one hundred million degrees of Phoenix (which have been well documented) and go camping in Prescott. Prescott is about two hours north of us and sits at a 6,000-feet elevation so the temperature when we got there around 7 pm was about 65 degrees and DELICIOUS and I wept for the beauty of it, or I made this face.

During the first night, Jethro woke up in the middle of the night and went absolutely bonkers over something outside the tent. I was convinced it was either a bear or the rapture, but it turned out to be a deer. At least that's what Aaron told me while he looked out with a flashlight and I buried my head in my sleeping bag and wondered who was going to read my journals when the police found them. Although, do police investigate the homes of people who die from bear attacks? I guess I'm not sure why they would, except it would make for great TV, especially if the bear had a vendetta or something. Moving right along.

On Saturday we hiked Thumb Butte. It even rained a little bit and after I yelled "WHO IS THROWING WATER AT ME" I remembered that sometimes when weather happens, rain comes down from the actual sky and makes the ground wet and stuff. Science. 

Then we went into town and the fair was happening again at the Courthouse. I suddenly realized I have never been to Prescott when there is not a fair happening at the Courthouse. What does this mean?

MOLLY'S TAMALES, WILL YOU MARRY ME

"OMG. OMG. OMG. Take my picture."

Then we saw this, and it's like, what's living if this doesn't happen every now and then, you know?