The 33rd Hour

We are 33 hours into our trip home from Uganda. Pavel and I have touched down in Minneapolis for one last layover - our sixth city since we left Kampala yesterday. Shawn is somewhere in the sky en route to Los Angeles, and Denver still seems impossibly far away. The snow outside this plane window is fake, staged for dramatic impact. In a moment I'll wake up, and Kenny will be cutting a pineapple. Edith will be poaching eggs, and Joan and Esther will peel carrots and shred cabbage. We'll gather in the kitchen to pray, and Mary will say "Friends, humble yourselves...."

Dubai Layover

The Burj al Khalifa is the tallest building in the world. We watched the fountain show, hilariously set to the song "Take a Walk on the Wild Side," and then toured the Dubai mall just two days before the month-long Shopping Festival. We ate shwarmah behind a mosque and marveled at the Bentleys, Porsches, and Ferraris as they drove up for roadside service. Our friends Becky and Roy gave us the insider scoop as we basked in their unparalleled hospitality. In our delirium, everything is impossibly glossy.

We board our next flight in moments. Next stop, Uganda.

Summer Out West

A bristlecone pine just above treeline on Mount Evans

My friend Greg visited me from New York this summer, and we did all the things you're supposed to do in Colorful Colorado. We drove to the top of Mount Evans searching for whistle pigs, we saw the movie Top Gun at Red Rocks, we trekked through Denver on some urban hikes, we traveled to a bluegrass festival in Westcliffe, we almost stepped on a rattlesnake, and we shot guns. Basically, we gotterdun.

Greg looms with Mt. Evans in the background

A cat prepares to pounce just off Summit Lake

Red Rocks at night

Greg and my current favorite urban street art installation - near 38th and Downing

Road to Nowhere, CO

Greg's brother's father-in-law Bob. Got it?

Three bullseyes. Do not cross me.

Greg and the Wet Mountains

The men of Greg's family

Sunset over the Sangres