All Things (Un)Important

Thanksgiving is typically the holiday in which we practice being thankful/grateful. I like to practice gratefulness every day. Today, as I'm traveling home for the holidays, the most obvious thing for which I am grateful is that I will see my family in another few hours. I've missed them terribly since moving to San Diego, and this will be the first time in months I will see some of them (I was able to see my mom and aunt last month). Of course I could wax poetic for an entire blog about my family, but I wanted to touch on something else--my gratefulness for the place which I'm leaving. San Diego grew on me quickly, like some sort of sea-salt chia pet. I've enjoyed the culture, the people, my new team (the Surfers), and the "vibe." And I've enjoyed my job. I'm not talking about my new job at the UFC Gym (but let me tell you, that place is badass). I'm referring to my job as a rugby player. I'm talking about waking up, every day, and going in to

We woke up to a clear and sunny day in Seligman. In the parking lot and around the grounds of the Deluxe Inn, a few stray cats roam. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t get them to come and say “hi” to me. The best I could do was get within sniffing distance of the smallest before it climbed the side of the motel and disappeared into the roof. We ate, yesterday morning, at the Roadkill Café. Their breakfast sandwiches were enormous and pretty damned tasty, according to Mom and Merle. I had the chorizo plate, which I turned into a chorizo burrito that Mom said looked like a baby (Amy, if you’re reading, I ate a baby…well, half of it). With no sightseeing planned for the day, and only about 6.5 hours left in the trip, we decided to take the scenic route to get a taste of the desert climate. Mom wanted to see cacti and not the kind you see in folks’ yards back home. I was definitely up for it, because I wanted to see a roadrunner (added that one to the list a little late in the trip). We

We started Day 5 with a mini geology lesson. Spotting, on the horizon a dreadnought of a rock appearing out of nowhere, we learned that the rock was called Shiprock (in the town of Shiprock), and it is a monadnock or inselberg, which is a large rock formation, hill, knob or ridge that rises abruptly from a gentle slope. Now that I’ve dropped a bit of knowledge on you, I’ll get into yesterday’s leg of the trip. Our one goal of the day was to see the Grand Canyon and spend a little time taking in the beauty of one of the world’s most visited natural sites. On the way there, we started seeing sheep and alpaca farms. In one area, a sheep dog and a sheep pup herded a flock across the road, and we had to stop and let them pass. On another farm, we saw a flock, with one smaller sheep hauling around a little plastic sled. Mom was also in rare form. Instead of explaining, I’ll give you all a few sound bites: --On hearing a commercial for a service that allows people to adopt stray cats (my cat

The fourth day in our cross-country journey started with a revelation—Mom solved the mystery of her malfunctioning eye that had plagued her the day before. “Sissy (most of my family calls me Sissy or Sis), I figured out what was wrong with my eye,” she said as soon as I was rolling out of bed. “I forgot to put my contact in my left eye.” Turns out her eye hadn’t “quit on her” after all. We started the day with a jaunt up Pike’s Peak, which boasts a 14,115 foot elevation and the highest gift shop in the country. The drive up to the summit was as scenic as you can get, with bird’s eye views of lakes and towns, deep green forests, and smaller hills and peaks. There’s a pull off at a reservoir, with zaffre blue shimmering waters, dotted with the occasional boat, lines hung overboard luring in lunch. Signs line the roadside with pictures of the wildlife and plants you can expect to spot on your drive up. We saw a few yellow bellied marmots, and though there is a Bigfoot Crossing sign (erect

Yesterday we picked up where we left off, traveling about 700 miles by 5pm. About 90% of our drive was through Kansas, and if you’re not the curious sort, that drive can get quite boring. However, if you have an inquisitive mind, then it can be quite interesting. Mom spent a good deal of the drive looking up facts and fighting her contacts to do so (at one point she exclaimed, “I think my eyes are quitting on me.”). Our conversations ranged from the differences in milo and sorghum, what constitutes a shelter belt versus a wind break, which state has the most tornadoes on average per year (it’s Oklahoma), what was Dorothy Gale’s hometown (Liberal, KS), and where in the world can we see buffalo. And one thing that gave me a little bit of giddy pleasure was saying, “Well, I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore,” upon entering Colorado. The Kansas landscape is a flat, bucolic one, full of fields of milo, wheat, soybean, corn, wind turbines, and small oil rigs. The state’s nickname is the sunf

We went from traveling 100 miles on day one to about 900 on day two—started in Fincastle, blew right through Bristol and wound up about an hour outside of Kansas City, MO. Besides the driving, we were able to do some sightseeing in Nashville, and we got to try some St. Louis ribs, of which my mom remarked, “I believe yours are better, Merle” (the man does make some damned good ribs). In Nashville, we saw the Ryman Theater (OG Grand Ole Opry), the Johnny Cash Museum, and had lunch while listening to live music on Broadway Street. Spending only two hours in a place only gives one a taste of its flavor. However, I’d say I quite like the vibe in Nashville—a juxtaposition of lively glitz and laid back southern comfort, with flashing signs advertising bars and music venues interlard with homemade candy shops, denim and boots stores, and ice cream parlors. If it were a person, it would be Conway Twitty, in his best embroidered, rhinestone pants suit singing “Hello Darlin’.” We ate at a bar ca

So, I have big news. I haven’t told a ton of people, but I am moving to Chula Vista. USA Rugby is starting a residency program for 15s players and I was one of the first five to be invited to that. Of course, I accepted the invite, and now I am moving my life to the west coast. After talking with friends who live or have lived in Chula, I decided that I’d like to have a car there, so I’ve convinced my mom and her husband, Merle to accompany me in trekking across the country. Obviously this is a wonderful opportunity for me to improve my game and get in quality training with the women I play with on the National team—something that doesn’t happen a lot in the US. However, I am very close to my family, so moving ~2,800 miles away will be difficult. This cross-country journey will be a good chance to spend some quality time with my mom before I am no longer a few hours away. I thought I’d chronicle our trip in a few blogs, so that in years to come we could read them and activate our littl

It was 1994. Bill (not Hilary) Clinton headed the political landscape, Netscape Navigator was released, OJ drove that white Bronco into history, and Rock N' Roll lost a God. Gas was a buck, Nancy Kerrigan was yelling, "Why me?" after that brutal knee bashing, Michael Jackson was married to Elvis' daughter, and Vanilla Ice had dreads. Seriously, check this shit out. Movies like Forrest Gump, Pulp Fiction and The Shawshank Redemption were making their way into the cinematographic Hall of Fame, but one movie jabbed its fist through the rib cages and pulled out the hearts of Americans. Dumb and Dumber chronicled the cross country journey of Lloyd (Jim Carrey) and Harry (Jeff Daniels) as they struggled to return the lost briefcase of Lloyd's "soulmate." It was an epic saga, with the depth of a Tokyo Story, adventures mirroring those of the Odyssey, and characters who audiences grew to admire and love despite their personal demons and struggles. Plus,