How quickly I forget.

It can be a huge blessing that when bad or particularly painful things occur to us; we are able to forget the details that made it so painful or horrible - or at least minimize the trauma to a point of being willing to try that thing again. We have car accidents that can leave us in physical pain, financial pain, or simply just give us a really bad headache trying to get through the insurance paperwork. Yet, this never stops us from getting back behind the wheel of a car and driving again. Loved ones have illnesses that cannot be cured by doctors, but we all go to the doctor for our own illnesses. I have heard that it’s this same concept with women and child birth.

I am having one of those moments (admittedly in an odd way). My friend T and I have started our annual cleanse and all I can think is “if I had known that it was going to be this hard I never would have agreed to do it.” I don’t know if you caught that “annual” part or not … this is something that I have done at least once every year for several years. Yet, here I am wishing it were day 15 and I could eat what I wanted. It is not like I did not know that it was going to be hard, I got that. I just forgot how hard it was! Haha. Food that never usually sounds appetizing to me suddenly pops into my mind as a craving; driving down the road it’s as if every billboard for food is standing taller waiving at me to eat what its advertising. Good grief, I am already planning my first real meal back!

Don’t get me wrong – I love all kinds of fresh fruit and veggies! I just like to supplement them with things like bread, milk, cheese, pasta, eggs, jelly, peanut butter, cookies, lemonade, beans, tortillas, cereal … yummy!

Each year, I sign on and agree not to eat these things for two weeks. I agree to follow the plan, take the herbs and fiber blends, drink the horrible nutrition shake, get all my water in and eat only fresh fruits and vegetables raw (or lightly steamed) and each year I am surprised at how hard this really is for me! At the end of my two weeks I am never disappointed in how much better I feel and my mind begins to associate the cleanse with health and energy and not the restrictive food regime.

As I sit here eating a green bell pepper like it was an apple, I am thankful for my minds ability to get over and move forward from the hard, painful and sometimes annoying experiences in life.

Old Idaho Penitentiary.

While I was in Boise I had the opportunity to spend some time with a 'host family.' A host family is supposed to offer transportation around town, provide any pre arrainged meals and to provide you with some entertainment while you are in town and our host family did not disappoint! Three of us from the conference were paired with the same family and the highlight of our wanderings around Boise was a visit to the Old Idaho Penitentiary!

The penitentiary started out as a territorial prison with the first building being built in 1870. Over the course of its 100 years in use the Idaho Penitentiary housed more than 13,000 convicts - 215 of whom were women. They held their first execution in 1878 with the hanging of Tambiago, a Bannock Indian from Fort Hall and their last in 1957 with the hanging of Raymond Allen Snowden. Their youngest prisoner was a 10 year old boy, convicted of manslaughter and their oldest was an 81 year old man, convicted of stealing some horses. After two prison riots relating to the conditions of the prison, one in 1971 and the other in 1973, all the inmates were transferred to a new correctional facility south of Boise. The Old Idaho Penitentiary was officially closed in December 1973 and a year later was listed on the National Register for Historical Places.

Warden's Rose Garden, where the hangings were held.

Outside the the original Territorial Prison structure

Cell Block 2

Entrance to the Women's Ward - originally the Warden's house

A sign inside the women's cell block. I am sure it's nice to know your anonymity is guaranteed.

There were beautiful flowers over all the prison grounds - what else is there for prisoners to do but master horticulture.

Boise, Idaho.

When I prepare to go places that are new or plan to attend events that are unique or out of the realm of daily life for me, I try to be available to be used as a blessing to someone else. I spend time readying my heart, my mind and my attitude to be open and sensitive to the moments and opportunities to be an encouragement and blessing to those around me. It still takes me by surprise when I come away blessed and encouraged myself.

That is what the few short days I was able to spend in Boise, ID were for me – a blessing and encouragement.


There are big changes ahead in my life and I have already begun to experience some of the smaller changes that lead up to those big changes. It scares me to think how poorly I have been handling those smaller changes. I have been in a funk of doubt, self loathing and self pity, not caring about anything – my relationships, the cleanliness of my living space has fallen to a level I have never experienced, my desire to run and train has all but disappeared along with any semblance of careful, planned eating. I have neglected my Gaelic learning and I have often chosen to watch television all day rather than do anything else. I have known myself long enough to know that these are all signs of a struggle going on in my life: a struggle between light and darkness – between joy and mediocrity.


I was invited to attend the Utah-Idaho SBC’s EQUIP 2008 conference to participate in the Commissioning Service they were having as the kick off to the event. My whirlwind trip began on Tuesday, when I flew into Boise and ended on Thursday with my return to Vegas. I got to meet some amazing men and women who God has set aside for specific service to Him.
The highlight of my time there was of course the Commissioning Service. I think in the end we confirmed the old adage that a disastrous rehearsal means a brilliant program! There were twelve of us speaking and we had quite the rehearsal – one that included people forgetting their lines, sound checks failing, changes in procedures and all that comes along with putting on an event of this magnitude. In the end, the service was a meaningful moment where God spoke to my heart. It started with the flag presentation - hundreds of flags being walked through the auditorium, breezing with each step sometimes reaching out to the crowd as if the people of that country were calling out. The worship team sang amazing songs that reaffirmed God’s desire for the world to hear of His Good News, while I was singing I knew God was letting me know that I was right where He wanted me. As if He was saying that He knew the waiting was hard and the changes were harder, but I was right where He wanted me to be. And then came the time for us to each share our 200 word testimony … WOW! I knew that it would be interesting with each of us being from different backgrounds with different stories, I just didn’t realise how moving it would be to hear us all speak together on the same calling.


I got on the plane to come home on Thursday feeling refreshed, thankful for the people of Idaho and Utah whom God used to minister to me. It seems I had just lost sight of God’s plan for me and being in Boise was a sweet, sweet time to allow God to readjust my eyes.

I'm going all in.

My friend T manages a group of massage therapists for a company here in Vegas and she has spent the last five weeks of her life at the Rio Hotel managing for the World Series of Poker. I went down there today to hang out with her and of course – to check out the poker! I have secretly liked poker since I started playing it with Grandpa and I had a fantastic time milling about among those brave enough to enter the tournament (or those with enough money not to worry about losing $10,000). While I was disappointed that Daniel Negreanu, one of my all time favorite players didn’t play until tomorrow, I got to walk around a see a few faces I recongnised … like Patrik Antonius (arguably the nicest looking player on the circuit right now) and I saw Mike Sowers and Andrew Robl who are a couple young up and comers. The highlight of the afternoon was running into (okay … truth … I chased him down) Scotty Nguyen!

Scratch that off the list.

My mum and I have devised a list of things that we would like to get done around the house before I move. To be honest … I devised and she has agreed to participate! Of course my list is very detailed and is about 3 pages long and her list is a little more realistic and manageable. We have decided to tackle things like cleaning out the linen closet, sorting towels that have migrated all over the house, cleaning and organising the space under the stairs and basically doing a “mini” sort of all the things she is ready to get rid of in the house and do a deep clean while we are at it.

I am still laughing at how I managed to convince her to take on such a task … “didn’t she know that I would be gone for two years or longer and she sure is not going to want to do it alone. Besides, anything that she might want to get rid of I could sell in my garage sale!” Clever, I know.

Return towels to appropriate location. Check.
Remove crystal from cabinet, wash, return to cabinet. Check.
Sort, refold and discard various linens from the closet. Check.
Box 40 years of National Geographic Magazines. Check.
Empty pantry, re-paper shelves, replace contents. Check.

Before and After.


Cleaning and organising are some of my favourite things to do and I am so thankful that I have it to do this summer. I just have to keep reminding myself that if I don’t get it all done at once or if there are something s that just don’t ever get done, it is okay! Plus, I am excited about all the things that we will find to add to my garage sale collection. Mum has already made the first donation to the cause. We are not sure what item on the list will be checked off next … either my little brother B’s room (now that he no longer occupies it) or the garage. What do you think?

I love Nevada.

I remember moving into the doom my freshman year in college and proudly hanging a panoramic picture of the Las Vegas Strip. I added a Nevada state flag next to my Scottish flag during my junior year. I got all the questions that come when one is from “Las Vegas” … What hotel do you live in? There are churches in Las Vegas? People actually live there? Sometimes I even felt as if people were whispering as I walked by them in the caf., “she’s from Las Vegas!” I was the only Nevadan at university – and I was proud of it!

Nevada is an amazing state (despite popular opinion); it was the 36th state to enter the Union and did so in 1864. The state nickname is “The Silver State” due to the large number of silver deposits that have been mined in the state. Most people know Nevada for its easy marriage and divorce proceedings, legalization of gambling and, in a few counties, legalized brothels. These things plus the mob, Hoover Dam, wild horses, mining booms and busts and countless other events make up the amazing colorful history of Nevada.

One of the things I love the most about Nevada is my own personal, rich history here. Innumerable friends are spread out over the state, my brother lives in Reno, my parents want to retire to Elko and I have lived here longer than anywhere else in the world. By most standards I am a true local – as I have lived here for more than 20 years.

You may see many more posts about my fair state, I offer each as a tribute to the land that shaped me, made me a little less enamored with material things, enabled me to relate to others, taught me the difference between mob owned and corporate owned, gave me great entertainment when telling people where I was from and even provided the fodder for my senior thesis!

After all I am a proud Nevadan!

Millinery.

Imagine a little girl dancing about in a child’s gaucho outfit - a little black jacket, a full skirt and an overwhelmingly large sombrero. Each piece intricately decorated with silver rope. She would whirl about, until the full skirt was flying around her, holding onto the sombrero so she could twirl faster and faster. Finally, she would fall onto the floor laughing from the dizziness. This little girl was me during the summers that I visited Granny and Grandpa in North Carolina. I loved that little black gaucho outfit - and most especially the wonderful sombrero.

Hats have intrigued me from those early moments playing with that sombrero and I am often shocked by all the different kinds of hats out there. There are newsboy hats, garden hats, antique hats, Fedora’s and Cloche’s, large and small brimmed hats, church hats, wedding hats and even cocktail hats. Each hat style can be made to fit a specific event, outing and even a specific outfit - creating millions of unique hats to be worn.

I seem to have lost my courage somewhere between being that little girl laughing with great delight at her hat to now. I have been given the opportunity to overcome that loss of courage and bring back that “hat wearing girl.” Living on the Isle of Lewis brings me closer to a more traditional and conservative approach of living. One of these practical approaches is that of wearing a hat as a sign of respect and showing one’s proper manners. People aren’t going to look at me wearing a hat as a fashion statement or as an outward plea for others to notice me; they are just going to see it as a statement of my respect and good manners towards my fellow humans. I like that. A lot. I will be on the lookout for an event or wedding I can attend so that I can buy and have a place to wear my first cocktail hat!

With my newest purchase being a church hat, I am finally trading up from large brimmed sombrero to more feminine and sophisticated hats!