Lost Vegas...and Port God-Send.

On Thursday morning at "0-Dark Thirty" (as Uncle Harry calls it), I boarded a plane bound for Las Vegas. My mission: to support and cheer for my mother as she was recognized as the "The Women Grocers of America's Woman of the Year" at the 2006 National Grocer's Association Convention. Before I even arrived in Las Vegas, I was already overwhelmed by it...and as I carried my bags down a cobblestone Paris Las Vegas street full of blinking and beeping slot machines towards the elevators, I was sufficiently overstimulated.

The convention itself was a lot of fun--meeting and greeting all of the people that work with my parents and enjoying fancy receptions and dinners at a fine Las Vegas hotel...seeing Kenny Rogers perform "The Gambler" live! And--we were so proud of my mom as she stepped in front of the crowd to accept her award. The 4-Star General (who was the Keynote Speaker) said that the reason America is great is because of women like her. It's true.

In stark contrast to the good-ness of the Convention and family, was the craziness of the city. Blinking Lights. Noisy Casinos. Ginormous hotels. Erupting Volcanoes. Hordes of people with 2-foot-tall Daiquiris. Venetian Gondola Rides. Fish tanks bigger than my apartment.

On Friday afternoon, we escaped a city of man-made things to visit an even bigger man-made thing: Hoover Dam. I had a vision of trying to drop-in on a skateboard at the top of the dam, or at least, to put a kayak in the amazingly huge Colorado River and float away from all man-made things...

...but instead, we returned to the "City o' Stimulation" and visited Old Las Vegas (which is NOT as easy-to-find as the Monorail Brochure leads you to believe.) After seeing the World's Largest Lights Show from a Starbuck's patio, we headed to the Bellagio (the finest of all Las Vegas hotels I visited)...and we soaked in a 10:30p showing of Cirque de Soleil's "O," which is, in fact, the most amazing artistic endeavor I've ever witnessed in my entire life. Dancing, synchronized swimming, trapeze artists, Olympic diving--which I viewed from the comfort of plush theater seating... It was a fusion of made-made things and artistry...and it somehow made Vegas more palatable.

After 2 nights of 5-hours of sleep, it was off to the airport and goodbye to the family. Somewhere on Saturday afternoon, I was back in Washington, capable of doing nothing but sleeping. Las Vegas had sufficiently overwhelmed me, and a little town tucked up against the Cascades felt like the perfect place to call home.

But on Sunday--it was mandatory that I crawl out of bed and enjoy the not-so-typical Northwestern Sunshine. Pam and I took a Sunday afternoon daytrip to Port Townsend, which is on the Northeast tip of the Olympic Peninsula--a mere 45-minute ferry ride from Whidbey Island (where Pam lives.) There were shops. There were lovely restaurants. And best-of-all, there were God-made mountains and oceans to be loved and appreciated....The contrast between Port "God-Send" and "Lost" Vegas was most notably apparent as we stood on the street watching dreadlocked hippies play the accordian and mandolin together, with Mt. Baker and the Cascades in full view behind them.

All in all--a very busy couple of days with lots of exciting things crammed in to a very short period of time. To be home and in routine today feels like such a drop, even in its comfortability. I was still fending off tears as I crawled into bed last night. Coming home after busy trips is hard. I am learning this. Normal is scary.

And already this morning I have talked with God, and as I am afraid of reentering my routine, the angels say, "Do not be afraid." And so, I am not.