Tag Archives: Idaho

JAMIE’S BLOG – YEAR 9 – DAY 268 :: trusting home

27 Sep


It’s Friday night and I am home sweet home, sitting on the couch watching movies and feeling the sense of rest and relief that only a Friday night can bring. I love traveling and adventure but I also love home. I love the candles lit on my fireplace throwing the light of comfort on the walls. I love the snuggling puppy at my side circled up under a fuzzy blanket.

Just after my movie finished another popped up on the screen, one called Idaho. It’s ironically the first place I called home. As I watch the beautiful scenes from the state where I grew up I find it refreshing that it feels just as familiar as the state where I now live.

We have actually lived in so many states over the years that it’s hard to know which place is really our home. We have moved six times in ten years but each place has held a thread of us. Weave them all together and we have a blanket called home.

I think that’s because home is not really a place, it’s rather a feeling The one inside of you that feels like trust. So here’s to snuggling up at home on a Friday night. The best kind of way to end a week. 

Trust me!
More tomorrow.


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JAMIE’S BLOG – DAY 265 :: red moon sunset

27 Sep


I’m home.
Being home means so many things, but one that never fails to impress me is the big, wide open sky and the sunsets that come tumbling after. We didn’t see the Supermoon tonight but we did see some Super Sunset colors on display.

As if Mother Nature was showing off in a pre-supermoon concert. No moon from our view tonight but enough color to bring on the bliss.

More tomorrow.


BLOG – GIFT DAY 155 :: 30 days of love: you can always go home

4 Jun

30 days of love: you can always go home

It’s DAY 25 over here of the 30 Days of Love. We’ve already had two yummy recipes and a week-long Giveaway, some treats, a sneeze, some wise words to the Class of 2013, some news, a Pop Quiz, 3 things I love, a biopsy, a call to say what you need to say, a prayer, a choice, a reminder of home, a sunrise, a road trip, a little joy, looking for a rainbow, there’s something to love, put your emphasis on joy, on the road again, and now…You can always go home. 

We made it to the place of my birth, my hometown, Twin Falls, Idaho early in the morning… around 1:30AM.

It’s amazing how much stays the same and how much changes at the same time (hello, new, huge Chobani yogurt plant!)

Unfortunately, due to our Nebraska delay, we must hop back on the road this morning and we can’t stay long. Booo hoooo.

But, I know we will be back soon. And it’s comforting to remember that you can always go home, even when you are on your way, travelling all the way across the country, to find your new home.

Today, as we hit the road, I am so thrilled to share the next installment of The Abundance Interviews. This one is with Carrie Saba and it’s all about YOU! Click here to view.

In it, Carrie shares her tips on how to:

  • boost your health
  • reclaim your time
  • practice good self care
Enjoy and I will post photos from the road on facebook as we wind our way into Oregon today.. 
Westward bound, girl.More tomorrow.

Lovemore {fearless}
{almost home}

Day 267: lovemore monday :: you never know who you might be sitting next to

24 Sep

As you know, I entered this year determined to be fearless. But, I don’t want more fear or less in my life.  I want more love.  So I made up a new word, lovemore!   That’s why Lovemore Mondays are here.

Today’s Lovemore Monday is a love story about a small world.

This weekend at a gathering of Women+Power at Omega in Rhinebeck, New York, in the middle of a gather of women the likes of Sally Field, Eve Ensler, Elizabeth Lesser, Majora CarterSister Joan ChittisterPat MitchellGail StraubManisha ThakorLoung Ung … and more. 

I sat down to lunch at a table full of women. The woman next to me began chatting and we engrossed in a lovely conversation.

She asked me where I grew up, to which I answered my usual quick, pass over, brush aside statement. “Oh, Idaho, out West.”

I do this because people on the East Coast have NO IDEA where Idaho is located. (HINT: it is not in the Midwest, we did not grow corn in my backyard, and it does not border Iowa).

She abruptly stopped me and said, “Wait, where did you grow up in Idaho?”

I looked shocked. Nobody EVER asks me WHERE I grew up in Idaho. Rightly so, since most can barely located it on the map.

“Twin Falls.”

She gave me a big smile back and then announced that she grew up two towns over in Wendell.

It turns out her brother was one of my doctors when I was sick with cancer.

I went to high school with her niece and we played on the basketball team together.

What are the chances of that?

It’s a good reminder that somehow, somewhere, no matter where you sit — on stage in the limelight, in the front row, or hiding out seemingly invisible in the very last row — we are all connected.

It’s a small world after all.
You never know who you might be sitting next to.

And, that’s why, on this Lovemore Monday…
I. Love. It.

Day 203: topless and barefoot in chicago

22 Jul

I was topless and barefoot today in Chicago.

The last time I found myself topless and barefoot I was caught — by a troop of Boy Scouts.

It was summertime.
It was hot.

My teenage friends and I hiked down into the canyon of our Idaho hometown to Dierkes Lake.

It was THE place to go in the summer to cool off, get a tan, jump of tall, rocky cliffs into the water below and, of course, being fourteen-year old girls — meet cute boys.

We hiked back behind a cliff of rocks and laid out our towels, prepared our magazines to read and sprayed down our bodies — not with sunscreen — but, with a coconut glaze of dark sunTAN lotion.

We proceeded to take off our bikini tops.  

Our rationale: who wants to show up to junior high with those nasty white tan lines all over your shoulders and back?

Just as we entered a sunny, coconut coma we heard a rustle in the sagebrush behind us.

Now, in the desert a rustle like this can mean a few things, including grasshoppers (best-case scenario) all the way up to rattlesnakes (not the best-case scenario).

We jolted straight up, prepared to run from a surprise insect attack. We were not prepared to deal with the troop of prepubescent Boy Scouts on a hike to find frogs and snakes and, well, something they didn’t bargain for … three half-naked teenage girls.

We were caught topless and barefoot.
With nothing left to do except turn over and stifle our giggles as we hid our bare chests into the beach blankets below.

I thought of this moment today during my manicure in Chicago.

I always pick a light, pretty pink for my fingers. I’ve tried red, I’ve played around with other more daring colors too. But, I always come back to my favorite light pink called “Get Me To The Taj On Time’ — except, today, the spa didn’t have my color.

So, I grabbed another light pink off the shelf in a fearless attempt to change it up.

As I watched the little paintbrush line my fingertips with pretty, pretty pink, the nail technician said, “this is one of my favorite colors!”

“Oh, really,” I asked. “What is the name of it?”

Topless and Barefoot.

Just those words — topless and barefoot — took me right back to being a teenager caught with her top down at Dierkes Lake.

It was mortifying.
And embarrassing.

And, there must be some Boy Scout somewhere who still remembers the pretty, pretty pink color of that topless and barefoot day.

To you I say — Always. Be. Prepared.  

Day 329: f*ing friday :: frontier

2 Dec

Today continues the weekly series, F*ing Fridays, which will coincidentally occur on Friday. I mentioned some of my favorite F words back on Day 5, including: Fearless, Fabulous, Fine, Fun, Faith, Freedom, Forgiveness, to name a Few.

Last week I dove into the word Freaky Friday.

Today’s F*ing Friday is dedicated to the words:

As in, new frontiers.

I originate from Idaho, where not just a few massive rivers run through it, but the Oregon Trail crisscrosses right through the state too.

Growing up, when my teachers spoke of The Frontier it meant covered wagons and a rush for gold.  Sacajawea too.  There are places near my hometown where you can still see wagon tracks embedded in the sagebrush.

There are many impressions left from those who blazed that trail.
In the land, the people and the history books.

How anyone survived still amazes me.
I mean, seriously, covered wagons?

I even had a friend who still held a pristine pair of shoes her grandmother kept during the ride West.  Her grandmother went BAREFOOT during the ENTIRE trip down the Oregon Trail — just to keep her shoes pretty and unscuffed so she could wear them on the other side.

For the love of shoes!
Now that’s a woman after my “sole” searching heart.

There were times during this year where I felt like I was riding in a covered wagon, navigating unknown territory, tensing up, opening up and trying new things in a new frontier.

Still wrestling with a little (what to eat).
Riveted by some (chakra massage).
Failing at others (brazilian bikini wax).

Tonight it occurs to me that there are FIVE F*ing Fridays left in this year.

It also occurs to me that I may have something in common with my friend’s grandmother who traveled across the country in bare feet.

Once she reached her destination, her feet were so swollen, bruised and transformed from the trip that those shoes she saved — for the ENTIRE length of the Oregon Trail — no longer fit.

Granted my feet are not swollen or bruised (although they do prefer flip flops these days).

When heading down a new trail in life, I suppose it’s pretty standard to end up in a difference place than what you originally set out for or planned.

And, that makes me wonder just what will fit at the end of this promise?
Twenty-nine more days until we find out what is on the other side of that mountain.

As they say out West, Saddle Up Cowgirl!
Welcome to the new frontier.

Day 306: a bite of frost

2 Nov

I’m an Idaho girl.

Born and bred in the valley between the mountains. Learned to ski and hike and fish too (even though I screamed in disgust when the worms slimy innards bled all over my fingers as I attempted to attach it to a hook).

So you’d think I would take to all things outdoors — including winter.
So. Not. True.

I run cold.
And, this is what I woke up to this morning on my car windshield.

If there was any doubt in my mind, it is now officially confirmed by nature: summer is over.

Despite a few random snow storms up the east coast, winter is officially on it’s way. The birds have flown south and the frost has arrived.

There’s something so yummy about this time of year.
There is fall and then there is fall CLOTHING. Instead of hibernating, I believe we humans disguise ourselves like animals; in warm wooly sweaters like sheep and tall turtle necks like the tortoise.

Just like animals.
We are seasonal survivalists.

As for me, surviving this year, I am learning this no shopping thing is definitely the hardest when the seasons change. It’s as if shopping and food and family and traditions are in the air when the leaves sprout or turn.

As I sit here typing away in my warm and scrumptious Nellie Partow original wrap sweater with wooly slippers and three layers of t-shirts, all I crave is a piping hot cup of chocolate, baked squash and pumpkin pie. Add a fireplace and Mama Sling in the kitchen and it feels glorious, comforting, warm and welcoming.

A sharp contrast to the bite of frost outside.

It’s like I can smell the nutmeg.
And, it reminds me that we are all of the earth: then, now and later.

Since this earth up here in Massachusetts is about to freeze, I can honestly say it’s a good thing I fly south to Florida in a few days (drive south, that is).

Can you hear that?
My flip flops are already begging to be let out of the bag.

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