FOUND: Two Black Sandals

Anyone who's crossed my path over the last week or so is sure to have heard my tail of woe: I was missing my brand new black sandals. One of the few joys of summer remaining in my post-school years is the brief break I can enjoy from my incessant and onerous search for a matching pair of black socks. Despite my laxing of the definition of "matching", it's still the dreaded task I reserve as the very last thing before racing out the door to work. So, you see, in the summer, when I can bend the term business casual and get away with a sockless day, it's pure bliss.

Hence my frustration when returning home from vacation, I could not find my best black sandals. The sandals I had only recently allowed myself to purchase for this season. The sandals which have the perfect amount of heel and the perfect amount of foot coverage for acceptable work wearing. The sandals, which, when I look down at my feet in the middle of the day, I think to myself, "Damn, that's a nice pair of sandals."

I have searched with flashlight in hand under my bed, under my couches, under my chairs, in the basement, in the attic. I've searched in places I know my shoes could not possibly be except by way of black magic. Not once did I do this, folks, but many, many, many times. I have ransacked my car and overturned love seats at my parents' house. I have put the word on the street - "Anyone who has seen the whereabouts of my best pair of black sandals, please come forward."

Only yesterday, when hope was nearly exhausted and my mind had faded to dark resignation. Only then, did I find them. Where you might ask? Where?

UNDER MY BED.

(Possible Explanations: Temporary blindness. Early Alzheimers. Evil Cat. Leprechauns.)

You MUST Go to This Place

I was driving in the heart of Pennsylvania once, when I spotted a sign on the highway - "New York City - 100 Miles." My raw reaction was, "We've gotta go! Now!" I just couldn't bear to be in such close proximity to a milestone destination without popping in. This disease which compels me to drive "just a little bit further" struck again on our last day at Glacier National Park. That day we decided to drive up to Canada and visit Alberta's Waterton Lakes Park just on the other side of the national border.

Folks, it was stunning. The Prince of Wales Hotel, which sits grandly upon the hill overlooking the lake and mountains, has a view that simply can't be matched. The only downside is the wind. It tears over the hill knocking your camera out of your hand if you might attempt to take a picture from the outside of the glass.



The Prince of Wales Hotel is swanky to be sure. But, I think if I were ever to stay in Waterton, I'd prefer to rent out one of the cottages in town over-looking the lake. This lake is like something out of a dream or a fairy-tale. The clearest blue water lapping at a shore comprised of brightly-colored, smoothed stones. I could have sat on a rock by that lake for an eternity.

In the Absence of Blogging

Blogging has taken a serious backseat in my life over the last month or two, and with good reason. My job, as usual, has me riding on waves of frenzied production, the wavelengths ever shrinking and crests ever growing. By a stroke of serendipity or simply good fortune, I'm dating a fascinating, handsome, lovely man named Brian. By a stroke of poor luck (though not nearly on par with my good luck), my personal computer crashed, forcing me to wait on pins and needles for a week until my IT man confirmed that sum of my picture and music files had not been lost afterall. (Back up your files, people - I beg you.) And I just returned from a nearly two-week vacation with my parents and sister. We visited Glacier National Park in Montana, Yellowstone National Park, and the Grand Teton National Park just outside of Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

I'll post a few pictures as I come across some good ones.

Here's one taken at the end of our first trek in Glacier. I wanted to hike down to the lake. I was out-voted.









This is probably not the best picture of Iceberg Lake. If you look closely, you'll see the icebergs floating in the lake (hence the name) formed from glaciers slipping off the mountainside and into the water. This was our longest hike in distance and time. We were on the trail for 5 hours or more for a round trip of 10 miles. I have to give my dad credit - the hike wasn't easy.







This last picture was taken from Many Glaciers in Glacier National Park. This spralling old lodge sits at the edge of a lake surrounded by imposing mountains. This picture does the scene no justice. In person, it's spectacular.

That's all of the pictures for now. I just got home today and I need some veg time before returning to work tomorrow.