We have news...

One of many lessons I've been learning during our time in Vancouver is to be okay with limbo - finding 'normal' in the midst of uncertainty, letting go of the want to know details right now. I have to say, I've gotten pretty good at it and am proud that frustration around not knowing the path forward has gotten to where it only creeps in intermittently for short(er) periods of time.  We're coming toward the close of a five month process of defining next steps and these five months have felt more like two years - roughly the gestation period of an elephant. We've been living our very own 'Bachelorette'  TV show - hoping we'll receive a rose at the conclusion of long talks and that the relationship will be deemed mutually beneficial. What I now know is clarity's strangest bedfellow is grief - because the next right thing for our family means physically leaving this current right thing and that's hard.

It all started with a conversation in May - a mere chat of introduction - it lasted about an hour and Philip concluded the conversation with an invitation to meet in person in June. He had been speaking with a colleague in his company and we were going to go to Georgia during our vacation to meet her and other office mates. On June 6, Philip and I drove to Georgia, toodled around neighborhoods, had a hard time sleeping at the hotel and got up the morning of June 7 so I could drop him at the office. I entertained myself by driving around to see houses we'd looked at online the night before. My sense of direction is sketchy at best, and I had no idea if Philip would be lunching with these new friends, so once I meandered back to the office just before noon, I stayed. I didn't want to leave him in the lobby for twenty minutes waiting on me (translation: I didn't want to get flustered if he called and end up lost somewhere), so I found a shady parking spot and sat in the rental car for two hours until he rang around 2PM saying he was ready for me to pick him up. Turns out he'd been meeting with a crew of eight people for nearly four hours and we were both starving - we went to lunch and he filled me in.

We sat at the table and he explained how well the meeting had gone and the mutual interest in pursuing a working relationship. I cried. It was a weird cry (not just because we were in a restaurant) because there were so. many. feelings. I was relieved because I had wanted it to go well and I believe in my husband; I was sad because it meant our time in Vancouver may be waning; I was excited because we knew we may be closer to family soon; I was overwhelmed because - moving. And at that moment, clarity invited her friend grief to set up shop and begin her process in what would be for our family the beginning of our 'conscious uncoupling' with Vancouver.

A little over a month later there was another phone call that affirmed mutual interest in the deal and another call was scheduled for three weeks later. August 2 brought another call - this one with more nuts and bolts: a timeline, a title, a potential salary, moving expenses. Late August, yet another call and here we sit in mid-October and the deal is nearly done. Funny thing about Grief, she seems to travel with two sidekicks - Fear and Anxiety. Good news for us this isn't our first rodeo and we've gotten pretty adept at allowing these two to pop in on occasion for a brief visit without allowing them to move in and redecorate. There's new schools, different school start times, my sketchy sense of direction, the fact we'll need a second car, oh yeah - a house would be a good idea, etc. But the cozy blanket of a warm welcome from those we love most eases  what Grief and her sidekicks throw our way. We're being intentional to be sure Fear and Anxiety learn to play nicely with Excitement and Anticipation to help initiate a smooth transition from here to there, so if we seem overwhelmed and scattered please chalk it up to our hosting a cacophony of emotions in and among the four of us.

There you have it - we Marcums will soon be on the move - in March, actually! And I'm excited about the journey we'll meander to our new home place. Mostly, though, I'm grateful- grateful Philip chose a career that he loves and that we've been able to make Vancouver home; grateful for the way our foursome has grown together in this place; grateful that Philip has hit a career stride that is fulfilling for him and our family; SO grateful that we'll soon be within driving distance of family and old friends; and I'm oh so grateful for the people who've come into our lives and will be with us as 'chosen family' forever. We'll be back to visit, that's for sure. Until then - strap in Southland...we're coming for you!

Adventures of a Dishwasher

My muse has been dormant for a bit this summer, as the summer has been dense. Alas - nothing conjures words more vividly than a ridiculously convoluted pathway toward a new appliance...

This whole scene began about 2.5 weeks ago - earlier really - as we renegotiated the terms of our lease. We asked if our landlord would consider allowing one month of our rent be used to purchase a new stove, dishwasher and new washer/dryer combo. There were some pretty intense stipulations that would have made that possible so we decided to forego the new stuff and make do with what we have. After all, despite the dishwasher being original to our building (30+ years old) and the washer/dryer being about the same age, they worked. The stove was "new to us" but came to live with us while our former landlord was trying to sell our suite. It's special...the top rack is clearly meant for another model so you have to be careful when pulling it out lest the entire standalone stove/oven come away from the wall, but again, it functions. And, we're renters - no big deal. Two and a half weeks ago, however, the dishwasher began not cleaning things (and, yes, this is totally a first world problem...). We began essentially washing the dishes before putting them into the unit only to have them come out feeling more grimy than when they went in, so we let our landlord know the time had come to replace this vintage piece.

She was lovely to work with and ordered a brand new, beautiful machine and forwarded all of the information about the delivery she had scheduled to us. I spent a couple of hours last week rescheduling the delivery as it was originally supposed to arrive while we were at "Meet the Teacher" night with our kiddos. A lovely person at Hudson's Bay worked with me to add our name and contact information to the order and even called back to confirm we were set with a delivery and installation on last Friday. Friday arrived and I called to confirm timing (as I was originally told to be home from 8AM - 9PM as my 'window' for delivery and installation). Ironically, the person on the other end of the phone was in Pennsylvania, but had moved from Mt. Pleasant, SC, where we used to live and we caught up about the friends we shared in common before she shared the machine had actually been delivered while we were at Meet the Teacher after all. Bizarre...seems our landlord's mother signed for it and it was already in our building. I sent Philip on to work and walked the kids to school and came back home to reach the bottom of this mystery. Upon calling back to the Bay, I learned that their delivery team doesn't do the installations...they subcontract that out to a third party. After about 30 minutes on the phone I was able to ascertain the subcontractor was a company by the name of Quick Contractors and got a contact phone number. Thus began the real adventures...

Fridays are funny when it comes to accomplishing good work - I called QUICK Contractors and hung out on hold for about 10 minutes before getting a voicemail box to leave a message, assuring me a QUICK callback. I left a message and called back again - hung out on hold about 8 minutes and got a person - EUREKA! They told me the installer had 'inadvertently' overlooked calling me and we weren't on their schedule. Normally, this would not be a thing, but...we had 9 kids coming over on Sunday to celebrate our daughter's 9th birthday in our suite - the notion of them playing around a boxed appliance was laughable. Surprisingly, I was able to very calmly explain my plight to the QUICK call dispatcher but their sympathy was lacking. After spending the afternoon waiting on a phone call for 4+ hours while doing party prep, I called back. I spoke with the same person who remembered my story (I appreciated that) and she assured me she would have someone call me back before 9PM, on a Friday remember, to schedule an installation time for Saturday.

You probably guessed by now that 9PM came and went with no phone call and we went on about our planned activities on Saturday and never missed a call then either. Then, late Sunday evening, as we recovered from party mode, the phone rang. It was Fast Track Appliances and they would be coming on Tuesday - a day I really couldn't make work. The woman was completely gracious (seems this wasn't her first rodeo with this sort of situation) and noted that we really needed the dishwasher installed on Monday. At this point, it's important to note the new machine was resting comfortably in a storage room of our building, but I'd been told that our building staff prefers not to store items in said storage room and I needed to get it out of there as soon as possible, so I was trying to do that. I'm a rule follower.

Monday morning - 9:30AM - the phone rings and my new BFF Brad is on the other end of the line. He said he'd have his installers there on TUESDAY. Again, I calmly explained that we had scheduled this install for Friday and I really needed to get the machine out of the storage room, yada, yada, yada. He kindly scheduled our install between 12-2PM provided I could print the paperwork he needed me to sign and have it ready for his peeps upon their arrival. Not a problem - on it. At 1:25PM, the installers arrived and I felt relieved. As they packed up after their 30 minute job, I noted that our landlord had paid the fee for 'old appliance removal' - alas - they're just the installers, not the removers. OK - so how do I handle this? Of course, just call the Bay and schedule another time for them to pick it up. Until then, they would just leave the vintage dishwasher all alone on our balcony to await its fate at the recycling center.

Lessons learned? 1 - Be careful what you ask for - it might just be more complicated than it seems and 2 - Shakespeare was on to something when he asked "What's in a name?" - I give Quick Contractors & Fast Track Appliances props for speaking their goal into the cosmos, but this whole "you gotta believe to achieve" notion isn't working for them. 3 - No one ever said life would be easy, but sometimes you end up, at least, with a good story to tell.

So here we are - after 30+ years, our apartment now has 2 dishwashers and my supervisor friend, Emily, at the Bay isn't returning my calls to come get our old friend. The good news? Our new machine is quieter than our refrigerator - a huge departure from the freight train we had up until yesterday. Carry on friends - may your dishes be clean and your patience be strong.

The beautiful, quiet new machine

The tired, sad machine

Brush with Death

It's been awhile since we've been on an adventurous family hike - as in a hike outside of downtown Vancouver/Stanley Park on trails we've never ventured. Today was the day - we set off for Murrin Park - which we've passed countless times en route to Whistler with its innocuous looking lake decorated with inflatable rafts and BBQ-ing families. We pulled into the parking lot, which incidentally, is fully paved and has painted lines and everything, partook in their washrooms (important to note because they set a tone) and began climbing a hill toward the lake you see from the highway.

Lovely little lake, right???

At this point, I must set forth a few indisputable facts:

1 - The Sea to Sky Highway is meant for cars - as it's a highway
2 - Familiarity with trails is essential to hiking confidence
3 - I do not like heights

We passed 15-20 lovely picnic tables - one of which hosted a full on BBQ and smelled delightful - and started following orange blazes on trees (note: this indicates hiking 'lite' and so we set our expectations). It was a relatively challenging trail in that it boasted a significant elevation change in a short distance, but there were stairs that trail maintenance folks had crafted and it was very user friendly. We took the trail leading to the Quercus Viewpoint and got to the top within half an hour. Upon arriving at the actual viewpoint, Philip and the kids took off and I said I was fine just waiting for their return. Shortly after they disappeared from sight, I started psyching myself up - there was only a 4ft elevation change from where I stood to the summit - and while the rock was steep, my family had just ambled up as if it was nothing. Surely I could do it too - I mean, I've watched Spider Man, I understand spreading your body out and finding nooks and crannies for your hands and feet. My bravado up, I scrambled up the rock face about halfway - meaning there were 24 vertical inches or so between me and flat ground - twenty four INCHES. Enter fatal mistake - I looked down. And in that moment I resonated with every single cartoon character who has seen the world beneath them spinning, and I froze. In that singular moment I morphed from 'brave mama who's totally got this' to 'Spidey Stuck' and my superhero delusions ended abruptly.

Initial ascent - note orange blaze

Trees conquering mountains - they're the real deal

About halfway to the viewpoint

We just hiked that

As I stuck on that granite face pretending it was my new kitchen countertops, I noticed a little evergreen tree who'd made itself at home on that perilous stone facade - we had a Tom Hanks/Wilson bonding experience as my heart rate increased and my palms started sweating. As I clung there, telepathically summoning my family back to me, a couple emerged from the other side of the summit with their toddler. In an effort to avoid awkwardness (impossible), I said matter of factly, "I'm just watching for my family - they're better with heights than their mum." The dad responded - "It's only 10 more steps to where they are - you should just go join them."

What went through my head:
"Well, thank you Captain Obvious (aka ASSHOLE) with your child strapped to you back descending this sheer rock face as if it's your in-home staircase! Of course, I'll just scamper to meet the three I love most in this world - there's just this small matter of my being SUPER-GLUED to this rock while the world spins beneath me, and the fact that I'm about to faint."

What came out of my mouth (thankfully):
"That's alright - it's good to hear their stories."

And they left - whew. It's easier to freak out when left alone.

But I wasn't alone for long - two precious dogs and their humans came along next - with a person who my children would assume a grandparent hiking alongside them. They acted like they didn't see me (how nice) and urged their dogs to show them how easy it was to descend this death trap with their four paws. And away they went.

Scaling the summit - I stayed right in the spot where I'm pictured, similar position, frozen in time

The view I missed - I've dealt with it - as I averted a stroke

Brave babies!

Note the road below - that's the Sea to Sky Highway - it comes into play later

My hero :)

As a charley horse developed in my right hip, I bellowed for my husband and upon the third yelling of our family name, our valiant 11 year old son appeared. I calmly requested his assistance as I was still super-glued, and he dutifully stifled his laughter as he scooted down to assist. As he scooted, Philip and Lydia appeared and Philip asked (jokingly), "Are you stuck?" Through gritted teeth and high heart rate haze, I meekly replied, "Yes." He thought I was joking. I was not.

He got me turned around and helped me scale down the 24 inches to flat ground (and let's be honest, even if I'd gone all 'dead bug' and just fallen down, I'd only have risked a minor elbow abrasion or so) - I began to see clearly and my knees quit pretending to be jell-o after a bit. We went down a different way than we'd come up - following the same orange blazes back to our car - or so we thought.

Orange blazes morphed into pink ribbons emblazoned with the name "Skid Trail" - y'all - Skid Row is more inviting. Perspective: we were the only ones 'hiking' in this area WITHOUT rappelling gear - no joke. We slid down moss covered rocks on our bums, climbed more rock faces and clung to trees to keep ourselves from tumbling down to the bottom of wherever we thought we were. We finally came upon a group of folks rock climbing (with packs, food, several pairs of shoes and HELMETS), they assured us the worst was over and we'd enjoy the rest of the hike. Let it be said - we were enjoying ourselves, but it was clear Philip and I both had unspoken concerns about the passage of time and how it might impact our progress toward our car. Thankfully, night doesn't fall in BC until well after 9:30PM this time of year...

I can fake pure joy - let it be noted.

Yeah - that's a trail - can't you tell?

The "OH CRAP, WHAT?" moment...

We started at the top of that rock in the background - no lie.

We descended into a cedar forest known as "Down through the Cedars" - it was lovely, really - but we lost track of our trail markers as we followed the path...the path that came to an end. And so, we retraced our steps, grateful for Lydia's keen eye and her discovery of the first orange blaze we'd seen in over half an hour. Confidence restored, we journeyed on - victory in our clutches - back uphill, past more rock climbers, and to another dead end. Dead. End.

Cedar Forest - yada, yada...

We gathered our senses and surveyed our surroundings - noting the road noise was closer, there were power lines in sight and a red trail marker across the stream from us. After taking turns crossing a fallen log over the stream, we found ourselves closer to the road noise and nose to nose with the red trail marker - which turned out to merely be a marking for the power lines anchored to the boulder in front of us. We decided to walk toward the road - yes, this goes against everything we've ever taught as parents - and we began scaling rocks. Yes - SCALING ROCKS - until we topped out and broke through grass onto the (you guessed it) SEA TO SKY HIGHWAY (meant for cars). And we began to walk - and saw the sign we'd seen earlier today noting it was 400m to the entrance to Murrin Park. Thankfully, after about 200m, a concrete barrier wall separated our pedestrian selves from the speed demon cruisers descending from Whistler and we were on a gravel path running alongside that innocuous lake once more. We were just on the other side. The kids sprinted the last bit to our car and we intentionally headed straight for Howe Sound Brewery - for we had had a brush with Death and lived to tell the tale - appys and adult beverages were in order.

Annnnd - the OTHER side of the lake...

In classic irony, we arrived home and my Vivo Fit yelled that I needed 1500 more steps to reach my daily goal. Oh you smug little computer chip who hitchhikes everywhere on my wrist. My goal today was simply not to have a stroke whilst hugging a mountain and I did that AND more. You, dear Vivo Fit, may kiss my hind end as today's achievement has been unlocked.

My Cup Runneth Over...

Earlier this month I broke into my fourth decade - this may come as surprise to many as we kept it low key and pretty quiet - NOT! This was my first birthday in a long time that was greeted with sustained celebration and fanfare and it was fun - I apologize to any and all who tired of the photos and exhortations that may have filled your social media feeds for a couple of weeks. I was caught off guard by the amount of fun I had ringing in this milestone 4-0 as I've never enjoyed being the center of attention or being the reason for celebration. The whole notion that I remained calm during a surprise party and overwhelmingly amazing facebook group chat and big trip was astonishing to me - I had anticipated having a panic attack at some point but never did! In fact - I found my introverted self energized by the big groups of people and the overt extroversion of the whole season. The whole experience has been surreal and a bit 'out of body' and has taken me some days to process. What I've come to understand is this: this celebration was 100% lifegiving because it really wasn't about me. Sure, June 11 is the day of my birth and that date in 2016 marked the beginning of my 40th trip around the sun, but seriously - this whole extroverted, glass raising, cake eating season has been about so much more. In fact, I kind of wish I'd turned 40 sooner - it's a good decade, I can already tell.

You see, this celebration of 40 years is actually a celebration of all the people and places who've gotten me to this day. My dear husband, parents, sister and brother-in-law conspired to gather people who've known me from birth and in every phase of my life in one place at one time to surprise me! What a GIFT! Every person gathered on that toasty SC day was a full-fledged contributor to my story - it was like an in-person reading of movie credits to this point and it was holy. I hugged the necks of people I hadn't seen in 15 years, I saw in-laws, aunts, uncles and cousins; high school friends, college friends and supper club friends; church friends, kids' friends and even got to greet two sweet baby girls still preparing for their July debut into the world. And - there was cake and banana pudding and BBQ! There's no way to describe how humbling it feels when you're surrounded by the very people who've meant the very most and to witness their interactions with one another. Had this been a movie, the camera would have panned out to capture a bird's eye view of the gathering (including the kids in the creek and playhouse) and I'd have narrated the scene saying, "I'm in awe. The gift of time and presence of people who've shaped me in ways they may not even know is one of the truest and most perfect expressions of community. Today's celebration is one of connection, grace and love. My cup runneth over." Depending on who wrote the script it might be more eloquent, but you get the point.

On the heels of this holy gathering I had the good fortune to run away to one of my most favorite places with the one who chooses to do life with me and I him. NYC has always been special to us - we discovered our city souls there, we honeymooned there, we returned there to celebrate anniversaries and it seemed only fitting to return to celebrate this birthday. We were lucky to join dear friends from Vancouver who were there celebrating there 10th anniversary - making this a communal celebration too - an extension of what occurred in SC just days before. The weather was perfect, the company ideal. There were toasts and desserts and yummy meals and then, on the 11th day of June, another gift - made possible by social media and my best friend's facebook savvy self. As I've grown, I've come to define treasure differently than accumulated wealth. I must say the gift of notes and photos from across the years is one of my most valuable treasures that I'm in the process of having printed and preserved to have forever. Rarely do I find myself overwhelmed to the point of speechlessness or tears, but all the messages from people throughout the years did just that.

Today, I'm grateful - this is the most public thank you note I've ever written and it goes out to all who've walked alongside me on life's journey so far. To those with whom I've shared a season in these 40 years, thank you. To those who've been with me the whole time, thank you. To those with whom I share the journey right now, thank you. To my parents - what joy it is to share these milestones with you! I'm grateful for the way you love me into who I am and for the way you love my children. To my sister - we've come a long way from sharing a room/clothes, teenage arguments and eye rolls! It's delightful to see you mother and to see the way our children love each other. To my husband - thank you for continuing to choose us as we navigate these adventurous waters in which we swim. I look forward to many more milestones and celebrations and years with you by my side. To you all - my expression of gratitude to and for each of you will be the living of my days in a manner that I hope does you proud for you have filled my cup to overflowing. My life has been made better by your being in it.

Hellllloooooooo Forty!

Hello there, 40 - you've been a long time coming - so long, in fact, that I never thought I'd meet you in my early years. Yet, here you are and to hear it told, you're a pretty big deal. I've taken that to heart and am getting gussied up for your arrival: colored my hair, polished my toes, scheduled a trip and packed my finest (read: most flattering) clothes. I'm ready.

Mentally, these last days leading up to your arrival have been pensive - a time of taking stock - celebrating a life I never pictured when I imagined myself meeting you, while accepting some of the dreams from my younger years have probably passed me by. All in all, I'd rather be here than still the younger version of myself, for dreams left unrealized have already been replaced with ones I didn't have the audacity to imagine in my 20's. So cheers to you 40 - cozy up and settle in - we're gonna be on the same ride for a decade and I need to lay some ground rules.

1 - We will be wearing practical shoes
Truth: I own 2 pairs of high heels and really only intend to ever wear one of them - and they're Easy Spirit (the cool ones - not the orthotics). Why shoe designers haven't caught on to the need for comfort cushion on the ball of our feet - especially when crammed into pointed toes - is beyond me. Wedges - another story - I can wear those all day long. But for days when my vivofit surpasses 10,000 steps, look for me in runners - my Converse chucks for more dressy occasions - and expect no apologies for it.

2 - We will be going as many new places as we possibly can
Truth: I'd rather travel than leave my children a huge inheritance. Granted - I'm perfectly happy to take the kids with us wherever Philip and I go, so in some ways they're enjoying their inheritance now. I want to expose them to the world still under the protection of our wings for as long as possible, and if that means we have a smaller house and drive 'sensible' car(s), so be it. It's not even a trade-off really - less to clean, better gas mileage AND see the world - no brainer.

3 - We will laugh
Truth: I love to laugh so hard that tears roll down my cheeks and drip off my chin. This may mean that our makeup isn't always perfect and we might have unsightly goo in our noses, but it is also life-giving. At this point in the ride, I embrace anyone and anything that makes us live louder. My fondest memories to date are ones of legs reduced to jelly because laughs were too hard and deep. Soul food - laughter is mine.

4 - We will love
Truth: I will tell my family and dear friends I love them - a lot. Over the course of the years, I've walked alongside, witnessing friends and family who've had to say goodbye far too soon to beloved people in our lives. I've been reminded of the fragility of life and our calling to love deeply right now. Right. Now. I don't want anyone in my life who I hold close to ever doubt how dear they are to me - and you'll have to just be patient if that means I get mushy on occasion. You'll have to bear the tears when words aren't enough to convey the depth to which people can affect me. And you'll have to remember that love always wins - even if there are rough patches along the way.

5 - We will be present
Truth: Busy-ness robs us of life's sparkles. Since I blinked the day my children were born and they became their 11 and 8 year old selves overnight, I've made it my daily goal to really be present every moment. I'm still a work in progress in this department. There are days when the moments seem excruciatingly long and tedious but then there are moments that are so inexplicably tender that I'd have totally missed had I not forced myself to take a breath, look in their eyes and hear what they said without using a word. The moments that illustrate how the 'we' of Philip and me has grown so much broader and deeper than I even knew possible on our wedding day are breathtaking. And so in our presence we'll utter breath prayers of gratitude - for the good gifts of life and dear people and the experience of unconditional love.

6 - We will curse
Truth: Sometimes the ONLY word is one your mama taught you not to say. I've grown comfortable using these words and attempt to use them as a scalpel not a machete. You're going to have to accept that there are times I'll be in full potty-mouth mode and there's really no sense in feigning offense. It won't stop me and I won't apologize. I respect words and use them intentionally - sometimes they're of the four-letter variety.

My dear new-found companion/milestone/numerical definition - if you can abide by these rules we're going to get along just fine. And I'll keep coloring my hair, polishing my toes and scheduling as many big trips as the bank account can stand. You're welcome to come along on the ride, but if at any point you try to get stodgy and curmudgeon-y, I'll deny I know you and claim my former 30's self - you've officially been warned. Let's go dream new dreams, love until it hurts, laugh until we cry and savour every morsel along the way.

Life is Weird

I really think a long time about titles for blog posts - even if they're only a few words. This one's been rolling around in my head awhile with the accompanying words bumping in my brain like a pinball machine.

Life is weird.

Looking at the snow-capped Cascade Mountains feeling really small first awakened me to the notion. I never in a million years dreamed my Woodruff, SC, self would be living among such huge mountains where skis are accompanied by sunscreen. I grew up in a town that now has a population of about 4000 and I'm firmly planted in a city, living in a high rise apartment tower among a population of 600,000+. Weird.

While we rode along the Sea to Sky Highway between Vancouver and Whistler, I thought about the fact that mountain based winter sports have only been part of our reality for 3 years - an outgrowth of our move west. As it turns out, that's resulted in our children learning to ski at the #1 North American ski resort. We very intentionally live like tourists here - not wanting to miss an ounce of what this place has to offer. But I worry. I worry that we've set our children up for disappointment - knowing that they've cut their teeth at #1 of anything. What will they do/where will they go to top this? Their first concert experience happened here - in a luxury suite - Bon Jovi - for free. Weird. Beats my New Kids on the Block regular seats at Furman many moons ago by a mile (though I'd totally go see NKOTB again). We're spoiled - simply by virtue of place and the people who are in our lives.

Conversely, we've been grounded in ways I'd never have imagined either. Our kids' school boasts 40+ language groups and the cultures that go with them. Our children's world view is being shaped through relationships and they've learned how to communicate even when they don't share common language with a classmate. We've visited houses of worship from various backgrounds - places I'd only read about when I was their age because our little town didn't have a mosque or Hindu temple or Buddhist temple. Our family has had faith discussions far more intense than what I grew up with - because friends here believe all different sorts of things and we've experienced 'church' in new ways. This year, we've personally encountered refugees from Syria - raising money to help them buy transit passes and picture dictionaries as they've left everything they know to try and rebuild a life in a foreign land. We sleep with our windows open and hear how mental illness ravages some of our neighbors who spend their nights wandering streets with grocery carts talking (sometimes yelling) at people only they can hear/see. At times, I suffer from sensory overload - I'm humbled, grateful, amazed and slightly awestruck by our current reality.

All to say, I wonder (sometimes worry) about how we'll plug into wherever our next home might be. Will we be the 'weird ones' with all these graphic stories of intense human interactions? Will we be disappointed if we live in a flat landscape without water? Will our children have trouble fitting in if everyone looks like them and speaks their language? What will adjustment look like? How will we manage it? It's all just weird. But I read my new most favorite wall plaque when we were in Whistler lately and I'm claiming it - you'll one day see it hanging on my wall (once I get it painted). And now, now I'm OK with being the 'weird one', the misfit, the round peg in the square hole and I hope we run into those who see things differently wherever we go. For I've learned that what's most important is to be open - open to new places, new people, new experiences. God knows our family didn't get here because we stuck to a pre-determined path. It's in riding the waves that come our way that we sometimes are carried to where we most need to be. And so our family rides on - open to where the waves next take us and to the people we'll find there.

America in Crisis

Originally written in August, 2015:

Last night I couldn't sleep - words were swirling in my head making rest impossible. At midnight I finally caved and came to the computer and ushered the words out of my head to quiet the thoughts. Below is what happened. When I woke this morning, I heard the news of two newscasters being brutally murdered on air in what appears to have been a premeditated revenge killing. I don't know the details - we've intentionally avoided the 'news' so our children aren't soaked in the repetitive images of violence. What I expect though is that many a critic is using this violent act to champion gun control laws or to champion the right of people to pack heat when they go into work. Folks - policy won't fix the hell we've gotten ourselves into. We've forgotten how to be people. We've forgotten that we're all connected. We've forgotten that life was never promised as an easy road and we've forgotten that sometimes we have to work on ourselves and ask people for help before we can fully participate in what life has to offer. My heart aches for the families and friends of those slain people. And my soul trembles that their last moments are forever recorded and have been broadcast over and over and over again. We are a nation with a sorry sense of one anothering. We've become a nation that is getting shown up by wild animals in the 'how to care for your cohort' department.

America is in crisis. I could feel it as I grew up but now, living in another country, I'm watching it from the outside looking in. It's embarrassing really - the US comes off as a super-powered circus more often than not. Sometimes, well often actually, I wonder if the United States where I grew up is a country of past tense. Anecdotally, I offer the following observations and thoughts regarding how we got here and how we might (if we're lucky) dig ourselves out.

For starters, the 24-hour television news business is bollocks. When you think about it logically, the notion that news is business is absurd. Businesses create and trade goods - the fact that our media are in a race for profit and viewership connotes that they create what they're selling. It stands to reason, then, that the people who make large sums of money 'reporting' what's billed as news are characterized as television personalities, right? Um, no. News, by its very nature is fact. I could sit in a chair and report the day's news with my hands tied behind my back for far less money and the news wouldn't, or rather shouldn't, change. Being at home full time with kids in school I've figured out the cycle - morning news shows repeat what was breaking news the night before for about 3-4 minutes at the top and bottom of each hour. Between these bursts of repeated stories there's fluff - about a new 'scientific' study debunking a has-been study, fashion trends, live musical performances and weather. This goes on for FOUR HOURS each morning. Following the morning news shows are the midday local news shows that repeat what they reported before the morning news show came on. There's a brief respite on major networks in the early afternoon to make room for soap operas and self-help shows. Once we've had our daily dose of televised therapy, which is great because it serves to make us feel better about the junk in our own lives not being as bad as the junk in the lives of people who went on NATIONAL TELEVISION to air it for the world to see, it's then time for local evening news. Again - recap the early morning news, morning news and midday news and there *might* be a tidbit of new information as the broadcast closes to make room for the nightly national news to air. The nightly national news is where the pithy new news debuts each day and gives you a preview of what's to come the following morning. OH MY WORD!?!? There is NO END - and this cycle doesn't even touch what's on the channels solely dedicated to reporting the 'news' TWENTY FOUR HOURS A DAY.

The stories that folks choose to cover feed the kerfuffle. The past week or so has been filled with calls of righteous indignation about the evils of website hacking and the 'dark web' (which sounds ominous and, frankly, I wouldn't know how to find it). The 'victims' of this Ashley Madison debacle are all up in arms because their privacy has been violated. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? These self-proclaimed 'victims' accessed a website in the dark hinterlands of cyberspace and intentionally sought out the perfect match for an intentional AFFAIR! This is the degradation of self-respect and honor to the highest. Isn't the wrong actually wrapped up in the malicious and intentional action these folks took to undermine the fidelity they had promised to actual PEOPLE? Better yet - consider the clod that came up with the idea of even starting this website and has gotten rich helping people be subversive in cheating on their partners? How do you live with yourself? And what in God's name were you thinking when you coined the tagline, "Life is short. Have an affair."? It is clear that the issue is far bigger than a mere data breach. We're talking about people's lives - partners, children, parents, supposed role models who were willing to risk it all AND PAY for the thrill of a chase. This whole ordeal, frankly, has made me embarrassed to be human.

American political process is unnerving as well. It's August 2015 and I've watched 2 pre-Presidential debates and heard more conjecture about whether a former Secretary of State/Presidential hopeful knew whether emails were classified or not than I've heard about how our country will actually come together and capitalize on what unites us. Let's think through this logic - a person appointed to help lead our nation through matters of foreign policy and security is being accused as incapable of deciphering whether an email was classified or not. OH MY WORD! I want folks who are smarter than that in charge of those things; and if they're not smarter than that, please just find someone with common sense who chooses to err on the side of caution.

We've reduced our political leadership to its lowest common denominator. When is the last time we heard someone actually say they had an idea they thought was good JUST BECAUSE IT IS GOOD FOR OUR COUNTRY? When is the last time an idea came out of our nation's leadership that served to unify us all as Americans and not divide us down party lines? PEOPLE - DONALD TRUMP is leading the Republican polls for the party's noimation for PRESIDENT. This is a travesty. I contend he leads the polls because he's gotten the most press and we, as Americans, have allowed ourselves to function as lemmings when it comes to political elections. We follow the loudest voice wherever it leads us - unaware that we're walking right toward a cliff that we'll all tumble down to our doom. It's time to WAKE UP. Remember those 24-hour 'news' shows? Guess who they've hosted over and over and over again in the highly coveted world of 'free' PR? Yup - Trump - hair and all.

We share an identity - we are Americans. But political and media leaders alike prefer for us to wallow in our differences so we forget that there is power in our unity. I really believe that politicians don't want us, the general public, to remember that we can rise above their bullshit, stand up and say, "Stop. We are Americans. Sure - we have different stories, we have different lives, we have different philosophies, we have different backgrounds. But - we are ONE NATION, we expect you to govern us in that manner and respect ALL of us enough to believe we can function as adults." Wouldn't that be a sight to behold?

Proposal: Let's make news networks non-profit. How would that play? It would free up some cash to share with other sectors that are grossly underfunded - say, education?

Proposal: Let's commit as a people to simply doing the right thing. And let's be unapologetic when the right thing makes us get our hands dirty or have hard conversations or delve into places in ourselves we'd rather not go or admit that we haven't treated people different than us respectfully. Seriously people, when did doing to the right thing become the anomaly?

Proposal: Let's ban television and radio commercials from all political campaigns. Think about it - doesn't our decision to elect the leader of the free world deserve more attention and scrutiny than the brand of cereal we choose for breakfast? What can we possibly take away, substantively, from a 30-60 second sound-byte about how a person will lead us into our future and not our lemming inspired doom?

America is great, but it's teetering on the brink. I really believe we can rein it in - if we get honest about our flaws and how to work together to overcome them. But for us to get there, we've got to get our heads out of our behinds and commit to taking some personal responsibility for getting her back on track. We citizens love to blame Washington for its broken policies and failed attempts, but we citizens put those people in Washington - whether we voted or whether we dismissed our right to vote. And people now want to put DONALD TRUMP in Washington??? To make change happen, we've got to make our voices heard; that starts with educating ourselves about who has a vision for our nation that will unify us as a people so together we can change broken systems. Then, we must help them define their cause by being honest about what we can live with - even if it means we don't personally win every battle. We have to show up. Then, and only then - after education and championing people who seek to do what's right - not what the latest poll, lobbyist or PR staff person tells them to seek, do our votes really count. An ignorant, knee jerk vote or a passive refusal to vote will break the back of the American story - our votes bear responsibility. It's up to us to choose whether to take it on or whether we'll give it to the loudest voice with the deepest pockets.

Legacy

It's funny how my moods seem tied to the liturgical year - or maybe it's the weather patterns that seem to reflect the liturgical year. Nonetheless, each time this year as Lent gets underway, I find myself in a contemplative, pensive mood. This year is no different. News the past week has been hard. We learned of a life gone too soon after a freak car accident, politics are flat out painful to watch, and we're walking alongside our preteen and watching seeds of insecurity creep in. That's a hard walk as a parent; shepherding your children through the same waters of self-doubt and self-consciousness that I waded at the ages of 11-13 awakens those long-latent adolescent insecurities that surprisingly still live inside my almost 40 year old self. It's hard to let our kids swim through the hard emotions too. I want to take them away and make everything sunny and bright. Alas - we live in the Pacific Northwest and even the weather won't help me make that happen.

Turns out, truth can't let that happen either. If we've learned anything on this grand adventure, it's that telling the truth really does set you free. It's unsettling at times, but heaven knows - you never go wrong with honesty. Today's truth for my 11 year old is that sometimes it is hard. Sometimes your friends are better than you are at something. Sometimes you won't make the team. Sometimes people are mean. It's almost harder for me to own these truths than it is to have traditionally difficult conversations because these truths speak to my own failings. These truths remind me that sometimes I've been mean, sometimes I've made a friend feel 'less than' and these truths remind of times I've felt sorry.

Lately, I've been wrestling with the number of people I've encountered who've been hurt by the church and the times I felt hurt by an institution that is so much a part of who I am. It's hard for me to name the truth - but what I've realized is there are many times when we Christians climb up on our high horses and, frankly, get a bit uppity about our own importance. I've heard stories of folks being told they are 'less than' because of their doubt, because of their beliefs, because of who they are. It's embarrassing. And it's made me sometimes shrink away from identifying myself as Christian...and has made me say it in an apologetic way, not a self-identifying way. That kind of realization rocks me to the core and makes me empathetic to Peter in his triple denial.

My latest wondering has been about what this means for the legacy I'm building. My *hope* is that those I love most, those who know my truest self, know I try. I don't always get it right, but I really do try. And when I realize I've botched it, I try to make it right. I apologize and admit where I went wrong. Truth-telling. When our kids ask us hard questions, we're honest. We've lost the need to sugarcoat the truth, because, truth just is. There aren't versions of it. And truth means  admitting that we don't have it all together, that we have strengths and weaknesses, confidence and insecurity. Looking back, that's what I hated about adolescence - learning to admit that all of me is made up of dichotomies living in tension with one another. It's hard truth to accept and the acceptance comes in waves - if we did it all at once I don't know if anyone would survive. My Lenten practice this year is swimming alongside my children in the murky waters of self-acceptance and forcing myself not go ahead to make the path easy, but to be present through the rough and still waters - their safe place to find rest. I will remind them along the way that there's always hope, rebirth and a new day dawning; that they are worthy, lovely people who are 'becoming'. I'll also remind them that I'm still 'becoming' and that we're in it together - building legacy is a group effort. May we all do each other proud.

City Mouse vs. Country Mouse

I started writing this post while I sat in a ski lodge with snow falling behind me while the kids and Philip took on the slopes celebrating 30cm of fresh snow. Lately, the contrast of our lives in SC and our lives here has been more 'in my face' and made me hearken back to a story we read in elementary school about mouse cousins who were from the city and country respectively. It's funny to have a foot in both worlds. I re-read the story this morning (thank you Google) and its moral:

A modest life with peace and quiet is better than a richly one with danger and strife. (http://www.storyit.com/Classics/Stories/citycountrymouse.htm)
Agreed.

There are days we deeply miss the small-town life we lived in SC, but we truly love our current city life - that we enjoy the free from danger and strife [a bit different than those mouse cousins]. We just got back from Las Vegas - what a funny place it is - and I chuckle when thinking about how those mouse cousins would have navigated a visit to Vegas. If we still lived in SC, I don't know that we'd have even considered Vegas a family destination - its reputation precedes it. But after living in a city where our children have grown up a lot faster in some respects while retaining far more of their childhoods in others, it didn't seem a crazy idea. Perhaps it's not as much that our children are growing up quickly, but that Philip and I are growing up a bit as parents. Living in this densely populated place with so many different cultures and living circumstances dancing together has forced us, as parents, to learn how to converse with our kids in a more honest, head-on way. Our perspective has changed - we don't seek to 'protect' our children from seeing hard sights as much anymore. We can't - sometimes you see things from your breakfast room window (http://themarcumsincanadaeh.blogspot.ca/2014/04/the-birds-and-bees-oh-my.html) or a drug deal happen under a bridge and sometimes you chat with those who live on sidewalks outside your building. Instead, now we name hard things, we discuss them and frame them within our family's own value structure and we talk about how choices, circumstances, and access can lead to different realities. Philip and I have had to find our own voices and dig deep into our own bravery to have some of these conversations. We've discovered though, at the end of the day, we're deeply grateful for the opportunity to help our children think through hard things i.e. drug use, sex, homelessness, mental illness, etc. under our protective care - living up to our promises to always answer their questions and to tell the truth - even when it's not entirely comfortable or easy for us. 

Wheels up! By the skin of our teeth...

So began our Vegas vacation. We drove across the border and spent the night in Bellingham, Washington, before our 8:30AM flight the following morning - so we thought. The morning of our flight was a near disaster. We had organized ourselves brilliantly - pre-ordered breakfast to be delivered at 6AM, packed PJs in backpacks so big bags didn't have to be unpacked, wakeup call scheduled for 5AM. Breakfast was 30 minutes late arriving, it took 20 minutes to check out of the hotel, we arrived at the airport at 7:30AM and learned our flight was actually at 8AM. So much for brilliant organization. Nonetheless, we made the flight and landed at McCarran Airport at 10:15AM. Immediately upon stepping off the plane we were greeted with the blinky blinky ring-a-dings of slot machines. The kids got a kick out of them and begged us to play. Philip fed in $1 as the kids and I stayed just outside the 'cone of gaming' so as not to be fined $10,000 per kid for being inside it. Philip turned that $1 into $.22! We moved on.

We grabbed our luggage, hopped in a cab and asked our driver to take us to the famous Las Vegas sign - we took our obligatory pictures and were off to the Trump Hotel. At this point, it's important to explain that we chose the Trump for a variety of reasons - none of which had ANYTHING to do with advocating for his candidacy for President. This was NOT a campaign endorsement. The property is smoke free and doesn't have a casino in it and it was free - so there you have it. Funny that the Trump property spoke to us as 'family friendly' - oh, the irony. Our room was ready, we dropped our bags and headed out to hit the Strip. The kids' eyes were wide as we meandered through Wynn with all of its sculptures made from live flowers. Las Vegas is indeed over the top. After lunch we continued our foot journey through Greece, Italy and France - all of which happened to be accented with blinky blinky, ring-a-ding casinos - and those aren't smoke-free. Even through burning eyes we couldn't unsee the women 'dressed' in pasties and large headdresses posing for $1 photos with tourists. Nor could we unsee the police 'officers' in fishnet stockings. So began our first 'big kid pants' parental conversations: why we won't pay someone to take a picture with us simply because they're shocking leading into instructions to find police officers in actual uniforms, not fishnets, should you ever get separated from the family. The most interesting piece of our conversation was our children commenting on how the girl wearing pasties really needed to eat a couple of hamburgers because she looked unhealthily thin. This all took place before 4PM. 

Making a wish in the Bellagio fountain

Kids are pretty observant it. Henry commented on how people in different areas of the Strip looked different. Interestingly, Las Vegas seems to be a place where worlds collide; where the land of misfit toys smashes right into the land of beautiful people. When those collisions get to be too much to process, thankfully there are plenty of places to buy chocolate. To the M&M store we went! Four stories of pure chocolate-y sugar overload meant temporary sanctuary from grown up parental conversations. The smell alone was intoxicating. We left with an obscene amount of candy coated chocolate goodness and each kid ended up with an M&M blanket (I mean what could be more comforting than that?). A quick stop at the hotel to drop off our chocolate loot and across the street to Fashion Show Mall we went. Both kids had been saving money to take along on the trip and it turned out American Girl had a seasonal store and Lego had its own storefront just across the street from our hotel. Lydia and Henry thought they'd hit the mother load! The cruelest reality, however, came when Philip and I declared that Legos and AG purchases had to wait until we landed back in Vancouver to be opened. It worked out well, however, because everybody was excited to get home since the trip continued even on our living room floor as dolls discovered a new school locker and Star Wars legos were constructed. Bedtime was welcome that first night in Vegas as our 5AM wakeup hit pretty hard - the lights of the Strip made a lovely nightlight.

Wynn - floral carousel

Floral Hot-air balloon - Oh My Word!

 Happy Year of the Monkey! See no Evil and Hear no Evil in tow

Henry used to sing the "Popeye" theme song as a little guy. This was a fun find that brought back sweet memories.

Lunar New Year Exhibition - The Palazzo

Human Statues in The Venetian - shocking! :) 

Happy Year of the Monkey from the Bellagio Conservatory

View of Paris from the Bellagio

Preparation for football season! Orange/Purple M&Ms for our Clemson Tigers and Red/Black/Grey (aka Darth Vadar mix) for the Georgia Bulldogs!

Our second morning was more low key and we were pretty quiet until lunchtime. We lunched at Treasure Island overlooking pirate ships and drinking in the sunshine. We walked and walked (averaging almost 7 miles each day - thank you, Vancouver, for preparing us mightily) and made our way to The Mirage where we ventured into Sigfried and Roy's Secret Garden. There we saw dolphins, lions, tigers and a leopard. The biggest treat was running into Sigfried himself - he magically found a golden coin up Lydia's sleeve (and I bought Henry one in the gift shop to match - because, equality). There's something sensational about running into a legend - I tried to get the security guard to admit we were really lucky to see Sigfried, but he assured me that he visits almost daily. Oh well - it was special for us, regardless. We moved on to Caesar's Palace where we got a glimpse of another legend - Dick Butkus was signing autographs but the store manager wouldn't let our aspiring football star shake Butkus' hand without a purchase from the shop. Silliness - we took a photo anyway. The kids then got their fortune told by Zoltar himself - a la Tom Hanks in Big. Thankfully neither of our kids grew into their thirty year old selves overnight. We watched the 'Fall of Atlantis' as told by moving statues with a fire-y sword, fountains, smoke and a dragon. It was intense - but helped drive home the message that arguments between siblings often don't end well. After all, Atlantis disappeared because a brother and sister couldn't work together to rule the kingdom - helpful object lesson for our two.

Can't hit Vegas without a little limo time

Lunch at Gilley's

Sigfriend in his Secret Garden

Secret Garden cont'd.

The Mirage

Our sneaky pic of Dick Butkus

The Cosmopolitan

And...WHY isn't there a bar named "The Lydia?" No fair for Henry to get sole billing.


While we were growing increasingly weary, we were determined to squeeze every minute out of our time in Sin City. I had done hours of research preparing for our trip to make sure we didn't miss anything. Every search I explored online led with the words 'family friendly'. Our second night in Vegas proved that my definition of 'family friendly' is far different from many a blogger covering the topic. We made our way to the Bellagio, hopped in the cab line and struck out for Fremont Street ("old Vegas"). I was really looking forward to it and had built it up in my mind as a potential highlight; alas, it was re-framed as 'most memorable' but not necessarily a favorite. We were actually on Fremont Street proper for approximately 7 minutes total - long enough to walk from the cab into Binion's to see $1M in cash (and NOT take a photo lest we be fined $10K/kid since it was apparently inside the cone of gaming - Lydia was very disappointed), head to the classic Golden Nugget for a buffet dinner (which was the equivalent of Ryan's Steakhouse) and then walk back to find a cab. In those fateful 7 minutes, we saw one overweight over-middle-aged man with scraggly hair in a thong/suspenders, another overweight over-middle-aged man in a speedo playing guitar and a man who'd been born with a arm deformity playing drums from fingers that seemed to grow directly from his shoulders. The only grown up conversation Philip and I could muster was a heartfelt apology as we hailed a cab to head back to the hotel. Back in the comfort of our own room, we all piled in the bed together and watched a movie and enjoyed some introverting as a family.

 
Vegas Vic and Vickie (the only photos I took on Fremont Street)

Wait. WHAT did I just see???

Day three dawned and we boarded the shuttle to Caesar's with tired but refreshed legs and made our way to the Luxor (pyramid) to explore the Bodies exhibit. We wandered past NY, NY, through Excalibur and into the heart of the pyramid to marvel at the construction of the human body - from skeleton to muscles to organs. It was very fascinating - albeit a bit shocking for Lydia. Philip and I were impressed with Henry's explanation of the digestive system as they've been studying it in school. We learned a lot, too! Did you know that our tongue has 16 muscles in it? I mean, really!?!? Then off to Mandalay Bay for lunch at an Irish Pub followed, supposedly, by the aquarium. Alas - the line was miles long and we decided we'd prefer to play in the outdoor heated pool at the hotel instead because when was the last time we Canadian residents swam outside in February? As we ventured back to the shuttle drop-off we explored New York, New York, beginning first with the Hershey Store where we were greeted by the Statue of Liberty constructed entirely of Twizzlers. Since we'd already filled our stores with chocolate from M&M, both kids chose a small assortment of Jolly Ranchers from Hershey and away we went. 

Blue sky, sunshine and NYC!

Game face on! Mandalay Bay

Start spreadin' the news...

Twizzlers Statue of Liberty

   Silly store - fun chair

Pool time was a welcome respite from the extroversion of Vegas. It was truly a little oasis in the desert - quiet, warm, breezy, restful. We played in the pool, relaxed in the hot tub and rested on the chaise loungers. After our brief time of renewal, we got ready for our final dinner - off to Planet Hollywood. We had a nice Italian dinner before seeing a classic Vegas variety show. The show opened with a comedic juggler (who happened to be a 5th generation circus performer) followed by the Amazing Gauchos who drummed, danced and swung whips knocking a flower out of a reluctant volunteer's mouth. Then a contortionist made us hurt all over; he was followed by an aerial act a la Cirque de Soleil and a group who parodied The Village People using their hands as feet while 'hopping' around on yoga balls. A man called up 4 unsuspecting volunteers, costumed them in masks and goaded them into a contest to blow up 3 balloons and pop them as quickly as possible. I laughed until I cried. The grand finale was a pair of folks on roller skates (yes - roller skates) who performed acrobatic feats on a 5' diameter platform. The comedic juggler interjected between each act and finished by playing Fur Elise on an electronic keyboard (another Big reference - seems it was a recurring theme) with juggling balls. It was a classic end to our time in Vegas. 

Before the show - Isabelle had to come too!

We made our way to the airport - ready to be home, quite honestly - and the kids marked the end of the trip with a grand finale meal at Moe's in McCarran Airport. We talked about our most memorable parts of the trip (Fremont Street), our favorite parts (Lydia reported the hotel was her favorite - the TV in the bathroom mirror pushed it to the top of her list; Henry's favorite was Caesar's Palace), and our final impressions of the city itself. We decided that it's a city that, from a distance, is sparkly and shiny and exciting and hopeful. However, once you get up close it has a kind of sadness to it. We all felt the sense of colliding worlds and a litany of dichotomies that live in tension with one another in this funny little place that pops up in the desert. In some ways it's a place where dreams come true - where famous people go for a sense of career achievement with a nightly show - still performing but without the rigors of touring. At the same time, it's a place where dreams go to fizzle. Folks show up in Vegas to make it big and end up posing for $1 photos - you see life-sized minions and Olaf from afar and it's exciting, but when you get up close, the minions are dingy and dirty and Olaf has a fanny pack and is soliciting donations. It's a place where people go to pretend to be someone else - we saw many an impersonator: Michael Jackson (at least 2), Elvis, Marilyn Monroe (with a really bad wig), Tommy Boy, Brian Cranston's character from Breaking Bad, Scooby Doo, an overweight Minnie Mouse and Mickey too, multiple Alans from The Hangover with baby dolls strapped to their chests, Gene Simmons (X3), Chewbacca (X2), Yoda, the entire cast of The Avengers and Bumblebee - just to name a few. We also saw tourists taking photos of homeless people on the street. That felt really gross - as if visitors to Vegas saw people who made their home on the streets in the same way they saw the people dressed in costumes. It made me want to know their stories.

Welcome to Moe's!

Because a TV in a mirror trumps it all...

All in all, I'm glad our children saw the city while in our care. I'm sure there are some who would consider us irresponsible for taking our kids to Vegas, of all places - I probably would have agreed with them just a few short years ago. We truly did have fun and laughed a TON! However, what we saw and the way we talked through it all, hopefully reinforced that trying to be something/someone you're not doesn't lead to fulfillment. When faced with over the top glorification of artificial reality we decided that we're more content in our 'normal' (fully clothed) life in our little two bedroom apartment right here in Vancouver. And we agree completely with the country mouse cousin who prefers to live his relatively modest, peaceful life away from danger and strife.