Tales of a Self Rescuing Space Princess

So Excited....

2010-07-09T07:13:00.000-07:00

Rose gets Married...

2010-06-07T13:21:00.000-07:00

The date June, 5th, 2010. The place Chico, Ca. The time 4PM. The wedding of Rose Sylvia and Robert Nipkow... They met working for Outback, a steak house popular in CA. She in college, and he settled in a career. The wedding was nothing short of breath taking. I am glad I was invited, and was able to attend. She is perfect in splendor and beauty. Encircled by sincere friendships, and loving family both were joined into marriage. No detail was left undone. The flowers were both beautiful and simple in their elegance. Their dog symbolically taking the ring to the alter. The stunning wedding dress. All and all a wedding fit for a princess.

I enjoyed the weather, and the well manicured gardens of the venue. People laughed and danced well into the evening, and rose with the early dawn to replay pictures in quiet hotel kitchens dining rooms. It was a time of family, reflection, and showing one grown up woman just how very much she is love. There is no valid measure of the word family... and times like these prove it the most.

I wish them all the best in life and the world... but they do not need my wishes. For Rose comes from a long line of successful marriages. She knows the road ahead will be both easy and hard, up and down, full of love, and happiness, disappointment, and anger... She is not disillusioned, and this will serve them both well. She comes from good stock. Her parents have been married for 33 years... and her grandparents for 50 plus years. It will be tough, beautiful, and worth it. The road is just beginning, and this day will be talked about by her children and her grandchildren on their wedding days. I am glad I got to witness it, and I look forward to the many splendid celebrations to come for both of them.

I raise my cup to both of them. Here is to you Mr. and Mrs. Nipkow. Cheers!

The Attack of the Wild Armadillo...

2010-05-20T21:43:00.000-07:00

When we were in Orlando Florida for the STS-132 Launch so many things happened that we just know we are going to forget if we do not write them all down, so this is just a tiny part of the story. This is the story of the attack of the wild Armadillo.

So the story kind of begins at the end of a very long day. Carl and I had walked all around two different museums doing the whole NASA history thing. And yet, we had made it back to the park in enough time to get there for an incredible sunset. Carl had grabbed his camera, and we went to the pier. I sat with him until the sun went down and it was getting pretty dark. I had a flashlight, and he was doing a series of night time, long exposure shots from off the Banana river. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Not to mention how much fun it was to watch Carl so happy, doing what he really loves. But in the end the events of the day won out and I was exhausted.

I told Carl that I was tired and I was going to head back to the tent to get ready for bed. He said that was no problem and that he would soon follow behind me in about 10 to 15 min. Happy with this, I set off down the pier. It was very dark out, but the stars and the bright lights reflecting off the waterfront and the cloud cover from STS-132 Pad A. I thought it was bright enough not to use my flashlight, in hope of seeing more fire flies. I walked slow, and enjoyed the sounds of the water lapping on the shore. The children's voices in the distance laughing and carrying on. It made me smile.

Happy and tired I ambled my way to the tent. I was in no big hurry. I walked down the small gravel road, passing RV, after RV. The campfires smelt so wonderful, and the glow of the small fires in front of each campsite left a warmth in my heart. It was peaceful. I turned from the road onto a large grass lawn set aside for the tent camping. The field was soft beneath my feet.

I walked further and further away from the softly lit gravel road to the darker shaded area of my tent. I heard a soft russel in the cut grass not far from where I was walking. I turned on the flashlight and spot lighted the culprit of the sound. It was an armadillo. About 2 feet in front of me and a little to the left. My light stunned him and he stopped dead in his tracks. I knew what an armadillo was, but I could not recall if they were dangerous or not. I did not know what to do. I was scared to move. I quickly turned off the light and in a shot the armadillo ran wildly in one direction and I ran wildly in another.

I ran to the safety of the lighter better lit gravel road. My flash light still off. A man and a woman had been going for an evening stroll. When they saw me run in terror to the road, the man could not stop laughing. The woman shot her husband a stern look. The man asked me, "You aren't from around these parts are ya?" Still giggling. I said, "No." Kind of annoyed, and embarrassed. I told them I had seen an armadillo.

That was it, the guy laughed out loud not holding anything back. The woman looked and me and told me how brave I was for camping in a strange place where I did not know the critters. She asked me where I was from. I told her I was NASA Dryden in California. She smiled sweetly and her husband told me that armadillos are like cats, but nicer. He told me I would be perfectly safe picking one up and tickling its belly. And they left me to go on my merry way back to the tent.

Traumatized I made it back to our little homestead and quickly slipped inside the tent, got into my pajamas and got into bed. Carl soon came and I told him of the attack of the wild armadillo. Do you think he comforted me? Hell no, he laughed so hard I thought he was going to cry. He teased me the rest of the trip about making us all from California look bad.

So next time, I am going to catch that little armadillo and I am going to take a victory picture with him before setting him free. :) Of course I think I am going to have to wait for my next encounter when I go visit my sister for the first time in AMARILLO, Texas! <3

The Manatee's...

2010-05-19T21:47:00.000-07:00

When we were in Orlando Florida for the STS-132 Launch so many things happened that we just know we are going to forget if we do not write them all down, so this is just a tiny part of the story. This is the story of the Manatee's in the Marina.

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So we are leaving KAR's park, which is a really nice camp ground owned by Kennedy Space Center on the Banana River. From the pier there you can see Pad A. It is an amazing area, green and lush. Well taken care of. And it sits right on the edge of the river with rolling green fields of soft grass. The whole place makes you want to run around barefoot all day long, which makes for the most peaceful, serene and romantic settings around. A few great trees gave the place character, and provided welcomed shade to hide under. The park is huge. It has baseball fields, a country store, showers, laundry facilities, tennis courts, and so much more. It also has a very small private Marina for KSC employees near the entrance gate.

One mid morning Carl and I are about to leave Kar's park for the days events, and we are heading slowly towards the entrance gate. Carl and I are driving the little Ford Escape we rented for the trip just leaving the park.And just off the grassy park that runs along side the marina in the water Carl sees out of the corner of his eye a big splash in the water. "What was that?" Carl asked quickly to me. His first thought with all the families running around, was that a kid fell in the water. The splash was a big one. "I don't know", I quickly retorted. Carl was already stopping the vehicle, and taking off his seat belt."I think a kid fell in the water." he stammers out. We both quickly without thinking jumped out of the car and ran to the water. As we got closer and closer it seemed as if it could have been a tire, but we just kept running in case it was a child after all. As we ran, we noticed no one was around, there were no kids, no adults, no signs of anyone around.

Then it hits us, there is a Manatee in the water. And then we see another, and another, and another. I climb on top of a park bench and perch myself against the railing to get a better shot with my camera. I keep hollering back qt Carl, "Do you see that? Do you see that?" Carl is farther behind me. Camera in hand now. There was a whole pod of them. Four, maybe 6 adult looking Manatees right there in the tiny Marina playing in the water. The pod was in the center of the marina, with maybe one or two further out in the safety of the over grown bushes and shrubs on the far side that no one could get to without a boat.

Carl walked to the end of one of the wooden wharfs of the Marina that was suppose to serve as a sidewalk to a docked boat, yacht, or other water recreational vehicle. No boats were on either side. In fact, there were no boats parked at any of the three spots where he was standing. All of a sudden he saw bubbles beside him. And then out of nowhere this full grown adult Manatee, in all of his gray elephant like skin pokes his nose through the water to get a better glimpse of this odd mammal on the dock. Carl is quick to run off several photographic shots right in succession of his close encounter.

It was amazing and great and a bit scary all at the same time. The Manatee was about 1000 lbs and about 10 feet long. Carl looked like an mere child in comparison. I ran to Carl's side, but the Manatee had already made his way back out to the pod. It was awesome. I asked him what he thought of his experience, and of course he was jazzed. And his first instinct was to rattle off a bunch of fast paced photos of his new sea cow friend. But he did admit to me, as much as he loves his camera, he was worried that if the Manatee had bumped the walkway, he could have easily fallen in, with his $3000.00 camera with him.

Well, we are so grateful that did not happen, and we are also grateful for the wonderful photos we got to get of them, especially our friend. What a treat to get to view these migratory animals in their natural habitats, doing what they are born to do. Eat, play, and travel! It was unreal, and remarkable!

This is one of my favorite things that happened on this trip. The right place at the right time. :) This does not do justice to how it felt, but on this you will have to trust me! It was remarkable!! I Loved It!!!!

Meeting Mr. Bolden...

2010-05-19T06:16:00.000-07:00

I went to Florida to watch the STS-132 shuttle launch. It was the last scheduled flight for Atlantis. I want to share it with you.

You guys know how much I love NASA, and you know how excited I must have been to get the opportunity to watch a shuttle launch. But bigger then that, I love my job, and the administrator at this time is Charlie Bolden. He is a retired astronaut who was not just a Marine, but also a 5 mission veteran of space flight. He was a pilot on a couple and a commander on another. Charlie Bolden is right up there with Cornell Powell with hero status in my heart. Mr. Bolden is a passionate leader of NASA in a time of great change for the agency. Whenever he comes to Dryden people swarm him and there was never a way that I can ever meet the man. His time is precious and it is controlled very tightly by the upper management of the center.

Well I got the chance to go to Florida for the STS-132 Launch. And the day before the launch I went to the KSC visitor's center there in Orlando. It was the most magical place on earth for me. Some would argue that Disney World had the tap on that market (especially in Orlando), but for me... KSC visitor's Center was Better then any other place on earth. I love history with a passion, and I truly love all things NASA. Here I was immersed in it. Around every corner there was more to see, learn, and soak in. I was a big kid in a new and exciting playground. High on life and the blessings I could never have imagined for myself. I felt like I was in a dream. A make a wish fantasy without the diagnosis of cancer. I was on cloud nine waiting for the launch to wiz by so I could catch a ride to a magical star. Life was GREAT!

I had walked around for the better part of the day, and made my way into a gift shop where I was getting trinkets of NASA and STS-132's big day for the three of my boys. I had an arm full of goodies, and I waited in line to get up to the busy register. When I finally got there I reached into my wallet to find all of my credit cards, my insurance card, and my driver's license GONE! I panicked and ran out of the store with fear in my soul and my heart in my throat. I was flooded with all sorts of thoughts.

Someone stole it, a pick pocket. Someone was running up all kinds of bills on my accounts. How was I ever going to be able to get on the plane without my driver's license? How was I going to get home to my boys? How do I get a replacement DL? How do you do it from another state? And how long will it take? How do I get a hold of the credit card companies and tell them to discontinue the accounts when I do not know my account numbers by heart? I was so scared, and I began to become very frightened.

I instantly retreated into my mind and prayed to my heavenly father. Oh God, please, I don't know how you could see me out of this, but I really need your help. I know I do not deserve your help, but I really need your help on this one. I don't know what to do. Guide me. Please Father, HELP ME!! I tried to keep myself from busting into tears, even as I desperately wanted to.

I tried to calm myself, but to no a veil. I told Carl what had happened, and we began a frantic search of all of the places I had been. All the times I thought I had them out. I thought back to lunch. Did I pull it out and set it on the tray? Did I throw them out with the trash from lunch?? I did not know. We ran back to the area where we had been eating to look in the trash can. I was desperate and I did not care how silly or gross it looked. I had to find them.

When I got there I looked in the trash can, but it had been emptied and a new trash bag lined the can. I was sad, and hopeless. Carl thought maybe, just maybe I left it in the car when I went back to change clothes earlier in the day. I was headed in that direction, when out of the corner of my eye. There at the park in a quiet little cubby hole sitting on the edge of a planter box, bent over looking at his blackberry cell phone was no other then Charles Bolden himself. All alone. He too was visiting the park with his family. They were in the gift shop buying souvenirs, while he waited outside taking a moment to catch up on the business of running NASA. I could not believe it.

Carl was at my side with me and he urged me to go up and say hello to him. I couldn't. I did not want to disturb him. To me he was more then our administrator, our leader, and boss. Charles Bolden was an icon, and a hero. I had watched him speak to congress, and read everything I could get my hands on about the man, his legacy, his accomplishments, his history. I had seen him in person once there at Dryden... that was a treat, but he was never alone. Charlie Bolden was NASA Royalty And deserving so. Carl took the lead, with his bold confidence, walking directly up to him,extending his hand and introduced himself to Mr. Bolden and explained he was from Dryden. And then he introduced me to him as well. Mr. Bolden was so warm and welcoming. He shook not only our hands, but our arms as well. He was a normal everyday American, just like Carl and myself. He was just as excited that we came to watch the launch for our vacation as we were to be there. It was amazing. We did not keep him long, for we knew his time was valuable. But it made my whole year. I could not even wish that big. And yet, it was a reality. It was awesome.

What impressed me the most about the man, was that he was there just like I was, as a tourist, on vacation with his whole family. He had his grandchildren riding on his back, and of the thousands of people there at the visitor's center that day, very few people recognized him. As accomplished, educated, and smart as he is, he was also a true family man. He, like me, holds a passion for NASA, but much bigger then even myself, and for better reasons... he lived it. And yet he still found the most important thing on earth was exactly the same thing I think is the most important too... our families. I recognized Mr. Bolden, and I got to shake his hand. It was an honor, and a delight.

Right afterward, I made my way to the car, and guess what? There in a bag in the front seat was every card. Safe and sound. Carl was right.

Had I never lost the cards, if I had not stopped to pray silently to God from my heart, if I had not retraced my steps, if it had been at any other time of the day, or the week, he would not have been there alone... Had Carl never stepped in when I would not. I never would have met my hero.

The right place at the right time. It just reminds me how precious even our trials can be to shape our futures. I am blessed beyond all measure and I am as much in awe of meeting the man as I am in just how the events played out. I just had to take a moment to share it with all of you.

New beginings...

2010-05-09T17:26:00.000-07:00

I am not excited about the next venture in my life. I am moving AGAIN. This time back to a place that is MUCH smaller then the one we are currently in. It worries me how I am going to make it all fit and come together. I am not sure that I can this time. I remind myself that things are just things, and all things must come and go for a reason unbeknown st to us. We are an ebb and flow of choices, and decisions.

Currently hate coming home to a house that seeps to the core of my soul with negative tides wafting from the neighbor across the street. The dirty looks, the foul expressions, the deep foreboding weight of the air that lingers whenever one or the other of us is in the front yard at the same times. I need to breathe. And in order to do so I choose to move. A move backwards, not forwards. I have made some side steps before on the journey, but rarely do I ever need to go backwards. This time I have too. No storage, no abundant garages, no cupboards... bare basics of life. A quaint place, more suitable to our condition... but more cramped for sure. The rooms shrank in size, and the backyard grew. No plants, no shade trees, no flowers. A blank canvas waiting for money to investment in colorful paint.

I am too old for this, and too over weight. What once was exciting, and reinvention of the wheel is just plainly a chore. One that is littered with back issues, tension and drama. I do not wish to go much further with the issues at hand for it will get me into trouble. Relocating myself and the kids use to be easy... when did it all become so hard? Hard to navigate, and figure out. I should be an old pro by now. I have done more then my fair share of moves on my own... this will be no different.

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It has begun. We are in, and for the most part the boxes have been unpacked, and the pictures are hung on the walls. There is still much that is missing in the enigma that I call a garage, but that should all be settled in due time. The place is beginning to feel like home. Slowly, the boys are settling in. The distance between everyone's living quarters is much closer thus the volume in the home is higher then we are use too. It takes a bit more understanding... and everyone seems to be doing their part to make it all work. It is a home. I have begun planting some flowers to make it more homey if only to myself.

I love having my own bathroom, and the backyard, while barren is vast and welcoming. It longs for a child's play set, a patio set, and a Bar B Q. I long for a garden and more potted plants. It will happen.

Right now I have other matters that demand my attention... 3 little mouths to feed, and a trip with my beloved to the other side of the country. Time will settle all things. Until then we learn to love the home, the location, our new neighbors... and most importantly each other.

A new home, a new beginning.

The faith of a woman...

2010-04-08T23:02:00.000-07:00

There was a woman I once knew. Our friendship was an odd one. She thought I was an angel. And her strength in her conviction, her passionate faith had me believing maybe it was true. I knew better of course, and I even protested, but she would argue with such eloquence. backing it up with fact, dates, times, ideas, and firmly grounded in faith... I had to wonder. Maybe I was an angel sent on a mission, maybe I did have a purpose, and a reason. This woman was an unlikely friend. I easily could have been her great granddaughter.

I wanted to be what she believed I was. I wanted to be her angel. She thought I was sent to her family, and even though I knew I was not, her faith really made me wonder. A child of God. A precious hand picked angel for her family. I would get upset at her protesting until she would have me soothed and comforted. She just knew. I have never met anyone who could literally be that close to both sides of the veil at the same time.

I moved to the desert and was having a hard time with a rash decision I had made at the time based purly on the bases of my faithfulness to the doctrine of the church. I did everything I was asked. I took on every challenge head long. I walked the walk, talked the talk, I read my scriptures daily... this was suppose to be my reward... and it was not. It was far from it. I cooked, and cleaned, and I got my dream job along the way. Every step she adored me, and was always there to chat with. She was a safe, calm voice, to heal my tired heart. She was my friend when I did not think I had any.

This woman, this wonderful, and godly angel herself passed away. It tears my heart apart. I weep at my loss of her even though I had not talked with her in nearly 2 years. She meant more to me then she should have, she was not my kin... she was my friend. She never gave up the assurances of her conviction.

I began to believe her, if only for a little while. I will miss you Grandma Willard. You were the kindest, most wonderful person. A strong and stubborn old woman who I will forever look up to and love forever more. May the Lord bless your journey, and may you keep busy teaching, loving, and building your Mansion in the city and your cottage in the country.

The history of a painter...

2010-04-08T22:39:00.000-07:00

Since writing the last blog, I found out more to the puzzle.

The painter's name was Robert Faust.

In the symbol of his mark to sign the photo, it is a R and a F in a circle.

The man I got this from happens to be the brother to the painter.

He just lost his brother 2 years ago to cancer.

Robert was a teacher.

He did many portraits in the near by communities that have long since been painted over.

He was an art teacher in San Diego once upon a time, before he finally gave it up one day to paint full time.

Robert's brother works for NASA in their graphics department.

A bond of brothers, with an appreciative eye.

Robert's brother delighted in the idea of one of his brother's paintings still being out there. So did I. He has kept quite a many of his brother's pieces of artwork, lovingly set aside for his family. I was right, he was a local, raised as a child in these parts...born roughly in the 60's I assume. So much raced in my mind during that short conversation... so many things I dared not ask. Like how old was he when he passed, what year was he born, did he have children, or do you think he could have taught me how to paint? What did his students think of him? His co-workers? His wife? His children? Did he have pets? When did he first start to paint? Is their mother still living? Where is he buried? What is your favorite memory of him? Your hardest?

For some reason it did not sadden me that he was gone. Instead it invigorated me and excited me greatly that the artist had left a wondrous legacy behind. A piece of art even the family had forgotten about. And now they were going to go back and recapture what was lost, and glean from it the very essence of the artist that I had felt. It made perfect sense to me then why it touched me so deeply, why I wanted to know who the painter was so fiercely. It was not for me. It was for a brother already passed who wanted to see his living brother again. A sort of calling card, and I got to be the messenger. How I would delight in being a fly upon the wall when the brother from NASA arrives, and what he has to say both spoken aloud, and in the silence of his mind to Robert. And I know Robert will undoubtedly be listening. I find it interesting that I did not think I could love the painting anymore then I already did, until now. How the pieces of the puzzle are still in motion...a ripple effect going out. Where will the momentum go? I will never know. Maybe the brother will start a blog of Robert's art in memory of his brother. Maybe the blog will be made into a book. Maybe the book will awe and inspire a nation. A man gone from this earth, but not hardly forgotten. We all walk this road, and I have to wonder... what will I leave behind?

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I want to write a book. Something someone else would delight in reading. If only for one person, and never to be published. I want to leave a love of words in the hearts of all who read it.

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An Idea Is Born...

NASA's Prolific Past....

2010-03-26T08:47:00.000-07:00

At 35 years old, few things come as a surprise to me anymore. However, not so long ago I found a remarkable piece of NASA's prolific past in a most remarkable spot. But for all of this, I must back up. And start with an introduction.

There is a seemingly dilapidated little old town in the middle of the desert. Its buildings and structures once new and brightly painted have long since lost their love and care for them, and they now sit slowly decaying and falling apart. This small town, at your first glance, is sinking into the desert, ever so slowly being eroded away by the harsh wind storms of pebbles and rocks prevalent to this area. A town routinely over looked and continuously overloaded with sand, sage brush, and family ties. A place where the only store for 20 miles holds not much more then 2 gallons of milk, and few choices of soda, 5 loaves of bread, and a plethora of alcoholic beverages. A small forgotten town on the side of the highway... an off ramp to nowhere. Even car trouble in these desolate conditions might give cause for some to worry and rightfully so. The closest gas station is 30 miles away in your choice of 2 directions only. Hidden and remote, the little town of North Edwards, on a quiet little stretch of Highway 58, barely makes a footprint in the sand on the vast Mojave desert floor. A town slowly dying and receding from a more productive interstate change.

It is there, ...there in that blink of an eye, on a quiet frontage road where this story takes shape and begins to unfold before us. Like a old woolen blanket... itchy, protective, and warm. I grapple with the words to describe what it is exactly that I found there.

A piece of America's history is lost. A mural lays hidden on a concrete wall shielded from the suns damaging rays by an awning of rotting wood. A magnificent and splendid forgotten piece of our collective history. An artist long lost. It sits as it has for century's on the side of a busy highway that many have past... and few ever realized were traveling on. On the corridor to sin city, Las Vegas, and on the shirt tails of Edwards Air Force Base... it sits alone.

Its only friends are the sounds of the finches from the nearby bird sanctuary, the hum of the tires rolling off the autos and big rigs racing past this stretch of yesterday's past, or the contrasting sound of an occasional thunderous sonic boom of a low flying F-18. Here is where I want to take your hand and have you walk with me. I have a secret to show you, a story to whisper. I found something...

It is remarkable, and moving. It makes my heart sing, and cry all at the same time. It has engraved its image onto the tablet of my soul, and in the deepest recesses of my heart. It is a forgotten mural in an abandoned shack. The little Red Barn use to be a lively bar a lifetime ago. And now it sits empty and open only to transients, and rebellious teens. The ceiling is blackened with mold, and the linoleum has long since been pulled back, and now houses an illegal fire pit with charred up wood. The windows lay shattered just beyond boards, and the bar still stands welcoming its next customer. It is a forgotten relic with a hidden jewel.

An artist, presumably local, drew a painting. And captured a moment of time, more perfect then a photo, more transcendental then a time machine. It looks at first glance to be chalk, but it is not. Its colors blend so well, partly by the painters skillful hand and aided undoubtedly by the rays of time and the repeated soft gentle kiss of the setting sun. It's amazing. The happiness of the two little prop job planes flying with the aeronautic masterpiece of them all, the beloved shuttle. Her safely returning to home after a mission in space. It is a story of coming home, of celebration.... a moment of greatness and accomplishment etched into eternity... a timeless snapshot of true Americana pride, and innovation. Much like the Paleolithic art "The Crossed Bison" of the Lacaux in southwestern France, this artwork is soon to be a fossil of a promotable era in our nation's history. A segway to the past. A virtual wrinkle in time.

As I sit here and gaze upon it, I conjure up pictures of promitable painters such as, one of my favorite of all time artists, Dr. Robert T. McCall who passed away earlier this year. McCall's works are more precise, and detailed in color, scale, and depth... but that is precisely what I love about this painting. It is not a McCall. It is soft. It leaves me room to dream. It is gentle and more welcoming, and I can almost imagine myself standing at the sidelines of this great day. The painting is dated the Fourth of July, 1982. It is the date that takes the painting to a new level of American pride, and deep seeded patriotism for me. Independence Day. The perfect day to welcome her home... her crew. STS-4, Columbia's big day in the sun. The most remembered most prolific of all the shuttles... at least to me. Even President Ronald Regan was here himself that day to welcome her home. With a nation watching and all the pomp and circumstance Edwards Air Force Base or the restricted Air Space R-2508 had ever seen prior. Even the space shuttle Challenger was there that day. Ferried in on the back of one of our two specially modified 747's. God Bless America rings hollow in my ears of the sounds and songs from the hearts of the American public on that day... it makes me want to sing in chorus.

God Bless America.

Land that I LOVE.

Stand Beside Her and Guide Her

Through the Night With A Light From Above.

From the Mountains to the Prairies,

To the Oceans White With Foam

God Bless America, MY HOME SWEET HOME

I can feel the heat of the summer sun, and the dry desert breeze blowing like a hair dryer across my shoulders. Clad in red, white, and blue clothing, flimsy flip flop shoes upon my feet, sun glasses in my hair, and a camera in my hand,. A fun and glorious day. I wish I could have been there. A prideful propaganda queen, and patriot... waving a flag, and singing triumphantly off key.

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And yet...

It brings to my heart such sweet sorrow as well. Tears of a day in her unbeknownst future. A day of tragedy awaits her. And standing in the midst of a feeling in her grandeur and most glorious moment... I am sadly reminded, as most Americans, of her legacy. Columbia on a day much like this one on the fourth of July in 1982, only a few short years later... February 1st, 2003... coming home yet again from a glorious mission in space to a grateful and excited nation...But this time tragically stricken... broken up on reentry over our beloved Texas. A nation in mourning, watching in stunned disbelief. The loss of seven hard working, talented astronauts. The shock waves of a nation, crashing down upon us. We held the burden of her pain, ourselves shattered. Our ideas, and advancements bruised, our hearts torn asunder. A tragic loss of life, Columbia's horrific fall from grace. How we as a nation collectively loved the Shuttle Columbia, and her crew. How I love them still.

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The ironic contrast of such a wondrous day with two of our nation's finest spacecrafts on that 4th of July in 1982, and how they are the same two shuttles that we later lost tragically in 1998, and 2003, is not lost on me. Challenger on January 28,1998, and Columbia on February 1, 2003. From terrific grandeur to tragedy. My heart feels heavy.

The soft cool breeze of an early spring nips at my ears and nose. Standing here in 2010, looking into a painting, transported. The birds are still chirping. The automobiles still racing by. The sound of gravel shifting below my weight in the sand. I turn my eyes to the sky. Crisp, clear, limitless... The stories this place could tell. The marvels this sky has seen. I breathe it all in, slowly. Deep into my lungs letting it fill me, and recharge my battery levels. The sun is softly setting in the west. The kiss of amber light leaving the sky. It is time for me to be heading home as well.

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I could stay here for hours... to play and ponder. I love this painting. I wish there were more like it. Like the best art in the Louvre it moves me. It makes me think and feel in great depth. It makes me wonder. Maybe it is the dilapidated building? The art? The history? The story? I can not tell you... but this place is blissfully magical, and it delights my soul. A hidden jewel, a treasured secret, a remarkable piece of NASA's prolific past. I just simply... love it.

Thank you Faust. Whomever you are.

The project.... Blog 101

2010-03-20T07:57:00.000-07:00

Well as fate would have it the blog at work is still struggling to see light, and take its first deep breath of life. I was tasked to begin a mock entry for the blog to provide an idea of what a blog entry should look like. We have others who will be doing the same. Monday we are suppose to come together and put our ideas on a table. I took a wild stab at it, and what follows comes from my heart. I still do not believe it is worthy of a NASA publication site, but I do know that when I write for me it turns out much better then if I write for someone else. I was asked merely IF you were going to write a blog about this organization... what would you say.

I wanted to keep it positive, and forward thinking. I wanted it to inspire, and be upliftingly hopeful. I wanted it to convey who we are and what we do. I wanted it to state our commitment from a one on one level, to a global connection. I wanted it to have passion. I also wanted to keep it short, so as not to bore the reader to death with long drawn out winded speeches. What I came up with is below. Not that I expect it to go much further then right here on my blog...but it was fun to let the creative passion flow, and pour out a little bit of me. I am thrilled that I get to have a place in kicking off the people who will be making the first real entries for the NASA Dryden blog. I believe in this being nothing but good for the center. I look forward to the blog getting off the ground. I look forward to our first of many informative and exciting entries from our center. But for now... read and see what you think.

OCIO Code MI Blog Fist Draft…

NASA Dryden’s Mission Information and Test Technology Systems branch (Code MI) is a diverse, and highly skilled workforce that not only exemplifies our institutional capabilities, but it also permeates our eminent overall commitment to our primary customers, our center, our agency, our nation, and our global community. We strive to ensure our altitudinous level of quality within the most cost effective and efficient ways possible. We, being the I.T. Infrastructure, are excited to be an integral part of this center and its global contributing missions to aeronautics, airborne science, research and so much more. Through cutting edge advanced technologies we are finding better ways to provide vital cornerstone support to all areas of the center. We take our contribution to each mission supported at DFRC very seriously.

Code MI looks forward to our collective future with anticipation, and excitement towards the limitless possibilities set before us. With great change happening within the entire agency we are invigorated with the new directions we will soon be branching out, and supporting. With one foot firmly planted in the amazingly rich history, and marvelous feats, of both NACA and NASA’s prolific past, we put our best foot forward, in an inspiring leap of excitement and faith, towards a more proactive, and innovative time in our nation’s collective history. With a new vision of tomorrow where we are looking less in a single focus, and more in an atomic explosion of possibilities and advancements. Working as a team in tandem with our nations brightest engineers, most critical thinking scientists, and detailed mathematicians, we will soon be supporting longer, more in depth data recovering flight missions than ever before. Information that we never knew, we did not know, will soon be discovered, captured, and analyzed to foster a new era of radical and revolutionary change for the US. This new information will undoubtedly spin off into unfathomable gains that will be felt and in a global ripple effect. We are confident the up and coming advancements will profoundly shape all that is yet to come; and that the best part of our history books is still yet to be written. This is truly the best aspect of being part of this organization. It is truly a magical time.

The extraordinary bottom line is it all starts here, with us in Information Technology Systems. Far from the days of slide rules, college ruled paper, and wooden pencils, we have evolved into the proverbial hub of the center. I.T. is the very backbone on which the greatest achievements at Dryden are derived. From I.T.’s desktop support, the center operator, reproduction services, and the help desk to assist with one on one personal care to our immediate customer base. To the ground support of the men and women who provide us with miles and miles of skillfully and artistically ran plethora of all varieties of network, telephone, and communications cables. To a more quiet and behind the scenes supportive network of dedicated I.T. Security officers, COMSEC specialists, physical I.T. security, network engineers, and system administrators who provide for us a technology based infrastructure which ensures the availability of transfer, storage, back up, safety, and flow of sensitive and critical data to those that need it, when they need it. We have specialists that are educated and up to date in the latest and greatest in VoIP, and Video conferencing which allows for us a cheaper, more effective, diverse way of open communication amongst colleagues whose missions span from many different locations. We are directly responsible for the truly inspirational videos that would put the best aviation movies, and air shows to shame. As well as we get to capture some of the best moments in the nations successes on film with some of the world’s best, most skilled, and detailed photographers and technicians. Our videos, photos and graphics are routinely published in history books, pamphlets, flyers, and even such esteemed publications as National Geographic, Scientific America, and Modern Aviation. We are the vocal cords for the voice of Dryden. Providing, creating, and maintaining all forms of web applications, and databases, and designs that communicate just what we do here at Dryden’s Flight Research Center to our nation’s public, and assist in the conveyance of the overall importance of every spoke in the wheel of this great center.

We, as Code MI, have, arguably, the best jobs in the center. Often quiet and unassuming in nature, our staff is an exceptional workforce that embraces our role in the big picture. We are proud to be a part of the missions, and we are proud to be here for you.

Loyalty...

2010-02-27T07:56:00.000-08:00

I have always known that by the nature of the beast, I am, by birth date, a Gemini. A duality sign of the zodiac, with polar opposite sides of the spectrum all encapsulated within one neat little package. While I do not hold much stock in the supernatural, palm reading, or in hocus pocus of the outer realm mystical gypsy's soothsaying, I do know that some, while vague, parts of their characteristics do ring true. So it should not come to such a shock to myself that I would be grappling with seemingly trivial issues, and yet feel as if I am in the eye of a torrential storm.

I suppose I should first layout the issue at hand before I sound like a total crack pot. And yet someone once said about me "Just let the crazy out a little out at a time." But alas, to that I say, no. That is not me. I am expressionistic, and vocal, and while I may not paint as beautifully as my boyfriend, or capture such breath of depth in a photo as my friends Alice or Jaimie, I am still an artist. I paint with my words, as well as with my corny little, often random, works of happiness. The totally over the top displays of passion are uniquely, genuinely, me. In an often frustrating, and mildly embarrassing fashion. That is who I am. I feel deeply, and I will show the world what I feel as I feel it... if only it might, but take a single moment to stop, listen, and care.

So the issue is the pull of two passions. I am as American as apple pie. I am as loyal, and a defender of this nation, our civil liberties, and our environment as Captain Planet himself. I am known by many as the NASA cheerleader, and by some an uber geek. And if you have ever read this blog, then you would know that my passions run a funny gambit from military toys, to space, to nature, to glitter, to all things girly, and everything in between. I am more square then I am round morally, and I am more round then I am square physically.

My problem is loyalty. Never have I encountered an issue with it. Loyalty is better then black and white... it is Red, White, and Blue. I drink it, I eat it, I breathe it, I bleed it. I am the most loyal of all creatures out there to a fault at times. Loyal to my children, my lovers, my nation, my job, my friends, my military, my faith, my dreams, my passions... So if nothing else is left on my death marker I would hope it would be, but the one lone word...Loyal. For unlike something as intimate as my name, my sense of loyalty has never changed... it has never wavered. Yet, all encounters with my loyalty before now just happened like nature taking her course within me. An uprising of instinct, and very little thought. You just do it. It just happens. It just is. Like Half Dome in Yosemite it just always has been, and always will be... a cornerstone the the very foundation to the fiber of who I am. And now... now I am 35 years old, and the rules of engagement have changed... torn asunder under some seemingly tyrannical twist of fate.

NASA is my job. I would NEVER do ANYTHING to jeopardize, or create undo stress to that family. NASA is as much an icon of American greatness and technical prowess as the stars and stripes itself. Synonymous with innovation, and growth. NASA was a shooting star I did not dare to even dream as high for, and yet by some magical mix of sheer luck, and bountiful Celestial blessings I made it here. My heart dances at the sound of her jets, and the sight of her shuttle. She is as noble and as loved as lady liberty herself. And yet, it is still in all its regal sparkle, a government agency. And all that I do, all that I say, all that I am is a representation of her and our Dryden family. Usually this is not a problem to me. Usually...

Boron, and North Edwards is my home. I love this town and these people. It is the home of the American. The quiet "Leave it to Beaver" town in the middle of an unusual movie lot...the desert. The people know their neighbors and really do come out at sunset to talk to one another on the street. A community where non family members pick your kids at the bus stop because it is raining and bring them home because no one should have to walk in the rain. A small intimate town rich in history and family roots. Like so many communities around this great nation... dwindling beyond repair, and a shadow of the glory days that once were. An elderly community, not by years of the residence, but by the dilapidation of the town. Some towns thrive, and some simply, by no fault of their own, wither away. North Edwards, and Boron, Ca are very much the latter. Those that are left are tough, rugged, and mainly family... if not by blood, by sweat and tears. And when you move into our little towns, unlike in the rest of the nation, here you are family too.

These people mainly work at a local Boron mine, and many have for generations, and generations, and generations of families that have worked out there. Right now they in the gripping battle of being locked out of the mine by the owners. A foreign company which has a less then stellar history of not treating their workers right. Their tactics are well documented. And in the struggle the entire town is being brought down to its knees. Almost 600 families in a town with the population of 2400.

A town full of people who have time, and time again, have come to my aid, helped me out, and held me up. One came to fix a fence, another a broken sprinkler, another was a medic that came to our aid when my son was horribly burned, another came bearing gifts for Christmas the year I had nothing to give them, these are the teachers of my children, they are the coaches of my boys sports teams, these are the store keepers, and the church community I once was very active in. They are the bus drivers, and the policemen. Almost every home is directly impacted by the lock out. I have been in many of their homes, and they have been in mine. Some came to my aid because they knew me, or one of my boys, but more often then not, someone heard from someone else there was a need and just came.

NASA is my job, Boron is my town... and American is my blood. They are all such a driving force of who I am, it is hard to separate them. I understand that to protect one from the other I have too, I have no choice... and so I do and I will. But it is the act of having to do so that is truly hurting me in the process.

Laying down my colors of one, lowering the flag of loyalty on one, so that I may freely embrace the other makes me so very sad. It is not about the politics to me. It is about family. It is not about who is right, and who is wrong, it is about who is hurting, and how I may help them. It is about reaching out my hand with love, support, and compassion to those that have selflessly reached out their hand for me when I was face down in the sand, and the desert sun was blistering on my back. It is about opening myself up to their pain and their strife so that I may help to carry their burden so they do not have to shoulder it alone. The very heart I wear on my sleeve is breaking only because I am learning that I too must learn to play the game. And that all things no matter how simplistic, even as simplistic as family, it is still very much all about politics.

And because I love them both, I will protect them both... and ultimately protect myself in the mean time. I will learn politics, and learn to dance on the fine line. I am learning in a painful process how to protect the cornerstones. It is a fine line. And I am not sure I am going to navigate the path correctly. I am fearful, but I have no other choice. I am but a leopard, and I am driven by my spots. I make no apologies for them. And yet all I can do is be Loyal foremost to me. For it is me that I must sleep with at night. When jobs and employers change, and towns are long moved away from... I will still remain. And my marker will still be Loyalty.

Once in a Blue Moon...

2010-02-26T20:01:00.000-08:00

This year began in an unusual way, a special, and rare event marked the passing of the new year. 2010, The year of innovation, of change, and growth. Not just for our nation, but for each and every one of us. I knew as I sat there surrounded by my boyfriend, best of friends, and work colleges that things were going to change for all of us this year. The moon was literally blue and full, and yet no one seemed to notice its quiet radiance dusting the environment with celestial blessings. I pondered within my own heart how my life would or could possibly change this year... and I drew a blank.

I love my life the way that it is, and how it could alter for the better was beyond my envisions of the moment. And yet, it nagged at me. Weighed heavy on my mind, and danced around from time to time over the last couple days on my heart. What if anything could I do to make good of the Full Blue Moon and all of her blessings? I just simply did not know.

Until Yesterday...

I went to work, to a job I absolutely love with a passion. And in another turn in the bend of the river I call my life, I was tasked with a very unique, and splendorous honor. I am so excited about it even now a whole 24 hours later that I can hardly capture the words dancing above me to even write it. I was asked to begin a NASA Dryden Blog for the Dryden, Office of the CIO, ON THE National NASA WEBSITE!!!

Oh my gosh, I am still reeling with excitement, and thankfulness. What an honor. I am to do an entry once a month. With a crunch factor of three entries now for a roll out on February 1st, 2010. Each entry will be from the Dryden CIO office, as an interview of staff, and what it is that we do, are doing, and are working towards. The first interview if for the goal of the organization by Rob Binkley our CIO and Ken Norlin our DCIO. That will kick off our blog. Then it will be on to the ITSM lead Anthony Thomas, and then to our Network Architect Dennis daCruz. And then systematicly down the line one by one until the entire department is captured and spotlighted.

The blog will be as much an out reach tool, as it will be a showcase of specialty, and positive PR campaign for the IT Department. A collaboration of our greatest assets... our people, and me. I get to be the spokeswoman, with a voice for our men and women who work so quietly behind the scenes, without recognition, or gratitude day in and day out. I am so excited. It is a side job to the routine taskings of my job, but what a jewel in the crown of the position. With.......

***********************************************************************************

It never happened. The idea took on a life of its own. It was not meant to be. Bigger then myself, it turned into a dream job for the proper people. I only pray that with its evolution onto the broader spectrum and elevated status of the blog... I pray it is done in greatness. I hope it encompasses the passion of Dryden and all that we do there.

As it stands the blog grew in depth and grandeur, the idea growing up to maturity within days. It grew from a modest blog written by a secretary for a small intimate department, to a center wide full on representation of the mission and research that goes on there. It grew bigger then my hands, but like a butterfly on the hand of a little girl, while I had it in the palm of my hand... it delighted me. Dreams are but dreams, but sometimes we are lucky enough to touch them if only for a moment in time. We are still the fortunate ones.

Life is a Gift....

2009-12-23T21:43:00.000-08:00

There have been a series of events that has surrounded me lately that has me deep in thought. Again with an issue that has been long since a staple in my life. From working in the hospitals of my past to observations of the present. It saddens me, the reality of it.   I suppose it is best if I take a moment to take a step back and explain the missing pieces of the puzzle.

It started again for me about a week and a half ago. A young man in his late 30's. A face I would occasionally see smiling in the halls. He was on his way to work, just like any other day before. Same route, same routine. He was struck by a text messaging while driving 20 year old blowing a stop sign at 70 mph...on his way daily morning commute to work. He was killed instantly. He is survived by his wife and 4 children ranging from 3 to 18. The 12 year old they called shadow because he did everything with his father. Shadow stopped eating for several days in grief. I did not know the Garrett family, nor did I know this man who walked quietly among us. He was a face in a crowd to me... but to his family he was their whole world. And now their whole world lays in shambles, as shattered glass upon the ground. A woman becomes in the blink of an eye, both mother, and father to her heartbroken family. All while trying desperately to keep from drowning in her own grief as well. My heart bleeds for them. Their oldest has Asperger's Syndrome... just like my middle one. My heart breaks for the boy who does not know how to deal with normal feelings let alone with the torrential waterfall of pain, guilt, and grief he now faces. This is just tragic anyway you look at it.

Then a second event hits from out of the blue. I find that another man more familiar then the first, but still an acquaintance has not just fallen ill due to the swine flu, but has actually passed away due to his exposure and contraction of it. This young man was all of 25 years old, healthy, and active.   He was known to come into my home and harass my children as a big brother might. He was funny, and friendly, and always willing to give a hand. He was the best friend of a land lord I had while here in Boron. He would come like a shadow attached to my landlord and his wife. Never very far, always quick with a laugh, or a witty remark. Usually at someones expense, but all in good jest. He was a substitute teacher at the High School. So the kids all knew him quite well. He was too young, to healthy, too strong to die. Dialysis, and poor blood gases were no match for him. Dennis Darr was the one who helped take care of his parents when they were in failing health... how on earth did the young, strong, full of life care taker die before the already compromised parents? Tragically lost too soon in a shroud of scary unanswered questions. His celebration of life is to be on this coming Monday. And while I did not know Dennis well, the fact is I did know him, and I liked him. I respected who he was, and what he stood for. And I will go as a quiet observer to support this community, his best friend, his family, and him.

Then today I got to help with a baby shower. To hold a precious little life within my hands, and stroke her soft and tender head. She was alert and her eyes were bright. A tiny miracle of God. She smiled so tenderly at me, and seemed to know with all certainty she was in good hands. It made me ponder so many things. How life is a rare and most precious gift. We have all been granted the time we were given, the experiences we get to have, the blessings we get to embrace and yet none of us knows when that card will be recalled. My PaPa died at 94 years old... it can and does happen all of the time. Carl's grandmother is 93 years old right now. Both with long full abundant lives. And yet there are so many still like my brother in law who died at 38 years old just 2 years ago. My Grandmother who died at 36. Like Mr. Garret in his late 30's, or Mr. Darr at 25.

I have long pondered of this concept and it is written upon the tablet of my heart. Words that seem to have long echoed within my ears over the course of my life, but seem more recently to carry more and more weight. Words I have but just recently passed on to my boyfriend, Carl. Cherish the Moments.

Cherish the Moments we are given, embrace the love as it is given us. The big and the little stuff. The meaningful and the simplistic. Embrace your life, and live it with purpose, drink it in with passion, and pass it forward with love, understanding, and respect.

For me this is people. My children, my beautiful boys, and the moments they choose to smother me with their love, and excitement. My lover, and best friend, and the moments he chooses to hold me, talk to me, and share a piece of himself. My friendships such as those with my dear friends; Amy and Tanya, or those of my work colleagues such as Russell, Stephanie, or Emil.   For me it is also cherishing the opportunities and life experiences. Such as the slow dances, the historical NASA events, decorating for the 58 days of Christmas, the quiet dinners out, the sunsets in the desert, the feeling the waves of the ocean crashing upon your feet.

I am grateful for it all. Life is much too short. And in the blink of an eye, anyone of us could be gone. Those around me know me. I ooze love, not just from the heart upon my sleeve but from every breath I exhale. I am not perfect, but I do cherish my moments. I cherish the smiles from strangers, from faces in the crowd. I cherish those who come ever so briefly into my life and touch me and the lives of my children. I cherish the laughter, and energy of my boys. I cherish the love of a good, kind, and long awaited soul mate. I cherish my friends who make me laugh, let me cry, and carry me through. I cherish the gift of a tiny and delicate brand new life, and getting if only for a moment to hold her hand and welcome her to her journey. I cherish the ability I have to help, when a distress call is played. I cherish the joy I get to pass it all forward. I am rich with life, rich with blessings, rich which experiences, and just for the record... my life is Full, and anything from this point forward is just icing on the cake.

I will continue to cherish the moments... today, now more then ever.

Thank You, Lord.

2009-11-16T06:47:00.000-08:00

I have not blogged in a while due to some heart breaking developments that I will not go into here. It is enough to say that life is a constant flux of change. It is the journey that forges us into the people we are meant to be. Choices are made by each and everyone of us along the path. Countless lives we touch and love and learn to let go of. The relationships in our lives are for reasons, seasons, and some special few for lifetimes. I cherish the ones I have today for I know not if they will be there tomorrow. The best of friends, the love of my family, the loving supportive relationship I am currently in. All can be gone tomorrow.

This is self evident once again in my life. Having to let go and distance myself for the greater benefit of the friend. There is no less love there for them. All things have a place and a time. Ours is just over. While this revelation saddens me greatly, I am thankfully reflective of all of the wonderful times and precious memories I have been gifted by them. The pieces of the friendship that I will forever hold close to my heart with no regrets.

I am but one person making the best decisions that I can make for myself with the information that I have set before me at each and every moment of my life. These are my choices, these are my decisions, and this is my path. I hold my head up and face the wind and take one step at a time.

Baccus Ranch...

2009-10-12T19:15:00.000-07:00

Wow, you talk about a big boys playground! There was so much to see, do, and explore. We easily could have been there for weeks on end and never gotten bored. Most of which I saw had to be explained to me in great detail, but that is what made it so much fun. A little boy's workshop mecca. So much to play with, everything could be created into something. The creature and creations only limited by your own imagination.

The boys got a kick out of this guy. A blinged out super robot that could help you with your homework, your housework, your workshop, and your home security system all while looking pretty darn sharp! The boys had so many stories about the wonderful uses for this guy that you half started to believe them yourself. It was amazing to me how the spark of one man's imagination was transformed into such a wonderful peice of artwork which then ignigted a whole forest fire of imagination within the minds of two young children. The delight they got in his decorations and his chains... making him more then just metal... making him real in their little minds. How wonderful it was for me to play watchful protective mother from a safe distance.

How Fun it was for all of us to enjoy being able to snoop around and find such wonderful treasures something suited for each of us. Colton found this spikey ball of death. For a 15 year old boy nothing could be more dangerous and fun to weild then a dangerous metal ball most would think twice before picking up let alone walk with. His imagination sparked with thoughts of fights and wars of long ago. Warriors in metal suits defending fortresses in beautiful foriegn countries. How he did laugh at me as I asked him to pose with the sculpture. I love his laugh.

The dragon of Carl's passionate artwork so beautifully portrayed in metal sculpured form. From the scales on his back to the mystic orb held tight within his jaws, it is a marvel of design and ordinary made extrodinary. A collection of talented relicks of the Baccus family that seem to explain the talents of the now grown men. How blessed they were to grow up in such a free expressionistic home that encouraged and nurtured their talents. The passions of the parents, gifted to the sons. What an amazingly talented, tight knit, loving, family.

Beyond the artwork was the toys. Dustin playing on a 35 thousand dollar tractor dreaming big dreams of working with great equiptment and playing. He does live in the right spot for that. With the Rio Tinto Mine not far from here... he just may someday make this dream a reality. Time will tell. How consentrated he was on making this big contraption work. How one can look into the future and see this image as the before shot and a grown man on the same machine years later as the after shot. He was loving it. My marvelous machine enamoured baby... does not matter what it is or what it does, he LOVES machines. Roaring engines, forceful power, magnificent metal.... splendor danced in his heart as he sat there.

Even George got on board, he got to bend and shape some peices of metal. He had learned what levers to push in what succession and his imagination was already lit with furry as to what it could become or how it should look. He loved it, and was overjoiedwith the news that he could take his peice of metal home with him. He was focused and happy. Glad to have made something, anything with his hands that he could show off and be proud of. It was wonderful to share in his exciment. I think he shocked himself, and then he had to orient all those around who would listen to what he had just learned. A born teacher.

I marveled at the gate, unique and splendid in all its wonderous glory. The scrolled artwork at the top, the sturdy secure wagon wheels as the secure base. The beautiful melody that graced any movement from the gate from the five fancy bells...one of which was silent and did not work because the knocker had fallen loose. It seemed so symbolic to me. Symbolic of a wonderful family which honor their mother and place her on high above all else (the beautiful scolled design), the Father providing the strength and security of the family (the reinforced bars on the bottom holding everything together), the two boys represented by success and movement (the two wagon wheels) The four functioning bells one for each fully functioning family member... all beautiful alone, but harmonious and delightful together. Even the electronic call box at the gate symbolic of the two boys in I.T., communications, and computers. The gate simplistic and yet sturdy beautiful and strong. The artwork and design reminissent of just how truly talented the family that presides beyond these walls really are. To most this place would not seem like much. To me it seemed rich with memories and love and laughter. The Baccus family home. Within these walls grew much more then rose bushes and trees long gone... within these walls grew an amazingly rich family.

It is evident to me as I sat on the front portch watching my boys with Carl and his Father play on the tractor just how rich and abundant this soil really still is. Dirt is dirt, and land is land, but family ties are the most proseperous crop this land has ever populated. I love showing my sons what this looks like... family roots. The Baccus Ranch deeply grounded in history, in acceptance, in free expression, and encouraged imagination. All I can say is... it was fun being able to share in the experience.

Thank you Carl, Jim, and Alice for letting us in. : ) <3>

Birch Aquarium - San Diego, CA

2009-10-07T06:54:00.000-07:00

Oh my gosh we had the best, on a whim, destination stop in San Diego when we decided as a family to go to an aquarium for the day. The day started out with a wonderful breakfast, at Mimi's Cafe, full of scrumptious hot chocolate, cold juice, sweet pancakes, rich quiche, warm omelets, fresh pumpkin muffins and much, much, more. It was Colton's idea..."Hey, why don't we go to an aquarium?" Great idea! We took out the trusty navigation guru, Garmin, loaned to us by a dear friend. We affectionately refer to the navigational tool as Jill. We punched in aquarium and low and behold, Jill found us one, less then 8 miles down the road. PERFECT! We set out on a fun filled adventure to Birch Aquarium.

There were these amazing live coral reefs set down so the kids could reach in and touch living sea anemones, hermit crabs, and star fish. My desert dune boys were not sure what to make of weird water creatures, and would not put their hands anywhere near them. Carl showed them they were safe and not going to harm them, but no way were they going to be coaxed into the off chance he might be wrong. Watching them learn and interact with Carl was fun for me from the other side of the camera. He is a natural teacher, and they are sponges when around him. Maybe it is his calm, quiet demeanor... maybe it is his vast amounts of knowledge... maybe it is his willingness to slow down and genuinely listen to them... what ever it is, it was nice to stand back and observe silently from the other side of a camera's lense.

The vast array of coral and brilliantly colored fish was so amazing. It seemed so peacefully tranquil to me, and yet to Dustin the negative ions seemed to wash over him with each new tank only amping up his level of exuberance and delight. A wound battery, ever ready, and delighted to skip ahead to announce the up coming attraction. Hyper and happy, he stayed within sight of us, but rarely within arms reach. His own sheer enchantment drawing us deeper and deeper into each of the tunnels.

The day itself was perfect. The weather was cool and crisp, with a gentle breeze to keep it nice. But it was not too cold, not cool enough even for light jackets. It was perfectly beautiful and serene. The waves crashing gently on the beach below was truly picturesque. Spending time with my children and with Carl was nothing short of glorious. The air show was nice, but it was the kind of excitement and happiness that drains you... This trip to Birch Aquarium was the slower pace of life kind of trip. The kind that was more fulfilling. A recharging of the batteries of life, slower, calming, peaceful. I love to see the boys learn... hands on is so much better then any in class study time. There is something special about places like these that can not be absorbed properly through a textbook. To watch the memory forming in them, the way they see and feel the experience. It is the true embodiment of pure untainted joy from parenthood.

This picture of Dustin does little to depict the sheer vastness of this tank behind him or the glee written upon his face, and yet it is one of my favorite places within this splendorous scenic destination. There are so many fish, sharks, and sting rays in this tank, and the soft glow on the faces of those that pass by it is as remarkable as the tank itself. An exquisite display of rich wonderment and its resplendent under water world beauty! I could almost see myself as an underwater princess straight out of "The Little Mermaid Movie" If there had been less people there I may have even danced or spun around in the soft blue glowing light...but I did not. I was good, and proper, and adult like in behavior. Not that I wanted to mind you, but I did. It was just truly breathtaking.

This is a distorted, but wonderful picture of the amazement and wonderment in the eyes of the boys as they peered into the tanks. This one is of George watching the jelly fish swimming in a rhythmic dance on the currents in the water. I have to admit even I was caught up in the simplistic ballet of the jelly's. The way they moved, and how their bodies looked so wondrous and magical dancing in the water. I never realized how many different species of jelly fish that we have out here. It was fun to watch them behind the safety of a tank glass window. Graceful little creatures for sure.

Of course Colton was as cool as ever, for being all of 15 years old going on 25. But there were glimpses of both the child he once was as well as of the man he is turning into. The self assured, confident, gentleman would set out a deep giggle when he had found something cool to focus on, or to direct our attention to. It was fun to see him enjoy himself, being carefree, respectful, and kind. Sometimes I think quietly to myself, and am pleased in how my children seem to be developing. I am very blessed by them.

Some people chase after money, possessions, or things, but these things... these days, these trips you can never afford to do or take... these are the moments of riches beyond all measure. Delighting in the time well spent close with one another. Laughing and delighting in Colton making a USMC water flow experiment, watching Dustin light up light bulbs in an awesome hands on experiment, watching George deliver a news cast to us on wildfires in the area, or watching Carl going over the different sounds each of the different kinds of whales make as they sing sweetly to one another... these are the times of unmeasurable joys and happiness for me. The bystander moments of how genuine love pours over your soul and warms you from within. Where happiness shines brightly, and peace is breathed in.

MIRAMAR AIRSHOW 2009

2009-10-05T19:13:00.000-07:00

You know some people think they have me all figured out. And I laugh... The reason that I love going to Miramar is so complicated and so simplistic that it often escapes people. They act like it some big secret, and in fact it is as simple as knowing that someday I am going to soar... I am going to make it. That this battered and bruised battleship is being put back together daily, that my rivets are being rewelded where they once popped apart. The broken hull is being made stronger and tighter, and yes... someday I am going to fly. Not just merely a secretary in an office as the assistant to all... but for once I am going to fly, and shine for all to see. An airshow moment of my life... no longer the spectator, but to dance in the glory of the sun. The time is coming, I can feel it....

And yet it is deeper still and more complicated. For many that come to the tarmac hold a love of the planes, and a serious appreciation for the grace and beauty of flight. I love the feel of the jet wash ripping through the air and reverberating off the bones deep within my chest. The sight of a slow copper orange sunset glistening off the rivets of an old, polished, pristinely restored, B-52 Bomber, that makes the beautiful, brunette, bombshell nose art take center stage. It is the soft low hum of the crowd as a F-22 comes in for a tight pass, and a high banking turn. It is the clapping of appreciation as an armored tank drives by with honorable service men and women waving from the turrets. It is the peaceful, misleading dance, in the sky high above. Beautiful and graceful, and yet lethal if necessary. It is the show of magnificent skill and talent, coupled with engineering master pieced constructed by intellectual collaborations and designed by marvelous minds. They are the fantastic women of the sky. Symbolic in their beauty, grace, and stream lined prowess as well as in their vastly different shapes, colors, and job classifications. They are strong when they need to be, and gentle, and patient when they don't.

I was told by one of my sons not so long ago, that my fascination with planes and with flight was not feminine,... that it was not becoming of a woman. I beg to differ. It is how I see it that makes it what it is to me. Although no other may see it as I, it is the vision that makes me who and what I am. Some think it is this love and passion that is slowly deteriorating the fine tuning of my hearing. What I do know is I truly LOVE the sound of the engines, the roar of the after burners... it is magnificent,AWESOME, inspirational and it makes me smile from deep within my soul. Few things in life are worth losing your senses for... to me, this is one that just is. Not many would understand that concept... then again not many understand me, and that is OK. This time, this place, the moments I get to be at NASA, these are moments of my dreams. I cherish them. I soak them in and they become a part of me. I love planes... I love air shows... I love flight.

But the whole air show event is not limited to the enjoyment I get from the planes. The planes are just the tip of the iceberg for me. It is spending time with the my beloved family... and enjoying the time we get to be with one another. Enjoying the personalities, and uniqueness in all of us. Watching my oldest son light up in the glow of the Marine Corps propaganda booths, and all of the Marine Corps gear. Letting him go with limited freedom to get food and drinks on his own, without the watchful supervision of his over protective Mother. How happy he is to walk past the men and women in uniform all puffed up and dreamy of days and accomplishments just around the bend to come. A boy looking into the eyes of manhood, and his desired future profession. Not knowing the real commitment involved, but desiring it none the less. It is watching the eyes of my two youthful sons faces deep into their very first funnel cakes. The strawberry and apple fillings smothering the hot pastry waffle goodness in a shower of powder sugar. How excited they were to sell me out for the Mother of the Year Award when I announced that Funnel Cakes were an acceptable dinner for air shows. How puzzled the looks as to how to judge their mother being morphed from the vegetable forcing balanced food group policeman to the carefree junk eating glutton cheerleader. How they seemed to revel in the thought they were getting away with something.

It was sitting cuddled into the arms of the one that you love in the brisk night air watching the night show, the fireworks, and the Napalm Wall of Fire. The Ooooooooo's and Awes resounding from the crowds in all directions in a chorused crescendo of amazement and appreciation overcame everyone at the same time.

It is the happy little boy laughter coming from the barreled chests of grown men as the fire billows the mushroom cloud explosions high into the darkened sky and dusts you with a blanket of dry heated warmth. It is the love in the air, the positive feeling that surrounds you and holds you up long after the show is over. It is the patriotism, the love of nation, country, service, and yourself that hangs heavy in your heart long afterward. This is Miramar... this is Family... this is Southern California Fun. This is what I live for...

Agency CIO's Visit Dryden!

2009-09-29T15:16:00.000-07:00

The new Agency CIO for NASA joined us today for a walk through and overview of our unique niche in the NASA family's big picture. Lind Cureton is not just an amazingly eloquent speaker, but she is very politically correct as well. She is an expert navigator of some torrential tempest seas. Her history is as colorful and in depth and remarkable as anyone you would expect to hold down such a distinguished career position as hers, but what struck a cord with me was how down to earth she was. How she easily, and with confidence, and great poise, communicated with all of us around her... no matter what our position, our given rank, or our title. She was diligent in attending to her duties as she was shuttled to and from every venue under the blazing sun at Dryden. And yet she was humorous and lighthearted when the moments called for it. She is an amazing choice, in my humble opinion, to be the spearhead of such a vital and needed chain of leadership for the Office of the CIO.

It was truly an honor to meet all of them. Jerry Williams, Bobby German, and Linda Cureton were so classy, gracious, and kind. It is not what I had expected from Heads of NASA power positons, and the rock of the Information Technology Team. Beyond vasts amounts of knowledge, there was a current which flowed forth of excitement for the technology, for the unique missions we support here at Dryden, and childlike curiosity. These are all amazing emotions that I as a fly on a wall was blessed to see first hand in the faces of these intellectual giants. It makes me feel comforted, and secure with our leadership knowing that they too feel the same currents of pride, and excitement that we feel everyday supporting our mission directive of exploration and innovation.

They took time to speak to the people even though I know that they really did not have the time too. They answered questions, and encouraged an open dialogue with our center. They never once let on how much they were physically dragging. They got in to their hotel at 0130 in the morning, which is 0430 their time. Then they were at Dryden by 0815. I know they had to be exhausted and tired... but they never let on as such. They were diligent in their quest to do and see what makes this place so special and so unique. I am impressed that our new CIO of only 2 days would want to do this. Obviously she wanted to see first hand for herself, and she did. Change is in the air for the whole I.T. branch of the equation, and yet with an uphill battle waging in front of us, I am excited. With Cloud Computing on the horizon, I think we have strong capable leaders to guide us to new heights.

It was a honor to meet them all, to shuttle them around and play. I did not wear the right shoes for the day, and I am paying the price even today for it. I would not have changed a single moment of it though. Getting to see them truly enjoy this wonderful center, to get to physically observe them really getting the big picture of WHY we are here. That was amazing, and a once in a lifetime opportunity. We are not paper pushers here at Dryden, we are the doers of NASA. The often forgotten, unspoken workhorse of the fleet. We are small in comparison, but we are mighty in mission and accomplishment, rich in history, and grounded in the security of NASA's continued future. I am proud of our foot mark on this agency, and it was neat to see the CIO's get a sense of that pride too. That is huge.

Linda and Jerry got to fly in the F-18 simulator, and if you saw the previous entry of my personal experience in them you know how exhilarating it is. I loved watching them light up just as I did. They may be the top line, but they are still very personable and human. Grown up children reveling in joy. I loved that. Enjoyment of the silver lining to a very stressful position. A chance of a lifetime also for them.

They visited Global Hawk plane as well as the control center. Spoke technology and mission with the boys that really make it happen. I showed first hand the importance of OUR I.T. support at the center at that level. I LOVED IT! What a great job that I have, to be witness to such things. THIS is what makes my job fun. THIS is why I do what I do. THIS is why I am the way that I am. I really enjoy my life. What a wonderful blessing.

STS-128

2009-09-17T21:57:00.000-07:00

One has to wonder if STS-128 is going to be the last shuttle to come to California before they retire the fleet. The legacy of Dryden Flight Research Center's in the history of shuttled flights to space and the moon... almost over. The new era of space travel on the cusp of a new day. A new generation of space travel..... The Aries 1 and 5. No longer will we, as a nation, be able to witness first hand, the grace and skill of these piloted decents. Their job no longer needed on reentry. I, for one, will miss this. Watching the flight of the shuttle is a patriotic blessing from this nation to me. OK, so maybe not only to me, but definitely one of the moments of majesty that make me very proud to be an American. I sit there in awe and love every millisecond of the experience.

I will never in my lifetime get to witness a launch of one of these great beauties, I will never get to sit inside one of them and witness first hand the simple grandeur of their true simplistic machinery, I will never sit and chat with an astronaut over crumpets and juice, or even get to personally meet Mr. Charles Bolden himself and shake his hand... but what I do get to do is watch. I get to watch in awe, wonderment, and exhilaration as the symbol of this great agency comes successfully back to earth, to the home of the free and the brave. An emblem of what we stand for, not just as the front runner of NASA and all of her amazing accomplishments... but as the beacon for this country as a light willing to push ahead for the greater good of the entire world. I urge all who were there to cherish the memory, remember the smells, the sights, the sounds. For this is a precious yet fleeting gift. One that should not be forgotten or taken lightly.

Few people get to witness history. I may not be an integral part of it, but the fact is I am here. And the time is now. STS-128 is home, and I got to cheer her in. I am bias in the fact that her coming here is as much of a blessing to her as it is to me. We offer a unique experience here at Dryden... When the shuttle comes here they are welcomed back as heroes. Domingo's Mexican Restaurant opens its arms and doors at all hours of the day and night to welcome the astronauts first real meal back on earth. The Mexican restaurant is as much a museum, and celebration of flight, as it is an eating establishment. This is our home. The desert... a barren, boring little place, in the middle of no where, that lives for the love Space and Flight. No where on the globe can you find the passion of these people. These people are like me... and I am home.

I for one love this place. I love NASA, and all that we do. I love the environmental impact that we are still forging ahead on. Do you know what I love the most? It is being a part of the team. It is easy for everyone to look at an astronaut and know they are a poster boy for NASA, but so is everyone behind the scenes. Those who sit behind a computer uploading images on websites shot by those of us on the ground so that everyone with such a desire to witness it can. They miss getting to take the photos of their own. They miss the chance of a lifetime to be a part of the moment. Without them many of those that share in it, never would be able to. Those who sit in the stuffy mission control room talking to the pilot, problem solving, and supporting 100%, holding their breath... or those people who make the phones work that support the hundreds of phone calls that are generated before, during, and after the flights. The nurses who stand at the ready to address any potential gravity issues of the crew... or even the safety guys who just stand at the ready... with hopes they are never even needed... but there just in case. We all have a stake in it. We all have a moment of baited breath, and a collective cheer as the double sonic boom is not just heard, but also felt. We ARE the team. I am proud to get to share in it.

I got to sit in front of the opening of the shuttle discovery. It was AWESOME. I loved it. It is amazing to me how the blessings come when you least expect it. I was wearing the wrong shoes, and Tess, a co worker of mine, had an extra pair at her desk... so I got to go on the up close and personal tour of Discovery because of her preparedness. I had secretly wanted to go see Discovery... but I had corny reasons why, and I had not uttered them to a single soul. Discovery starts with a D, just like Dryden, and Desiree. She seems to me, to be the most like me. She is the most beaten up, bumped and bruised angel of the fleet. She has had a tough road, and still finds the strength to get back up and soar again ,and again when ever, and how ever she is needed. She reaches for the stars high within our orbit and dances with them. She takes care of her crew, at all cost. And Discovery is the name that captures the mission of space flight the best. I know it is just a machine, but to me, she is a symbol. A symbol of perseverance, ...of strength, ...of achieving her dreams. It seems to me, to be the one shuttle out of the entire fleet I feel most connected to. I am so happy that I got to be so close to her, feeling her energy, and taking a piece of that memory into my heart and soul forever. Discovery is my favorite. Always has been always will be. The neat trivial part of this journey for Discovery is the simple fact that she arrived here at NASA's Dryden's Flight Research Center on September 11th, 2009, and she was going home on the 747 whose call sign is also 911. For one who remembers 9/11 was a day of sorrow and of national devastation in 2001. Terrorists attached us as a nation viciously with our own planes, killing hundreds of our people... hitting the world trade center, a Pennsylvania field, and the Pentagon. I know all of us, as a great nation, knew where we were when we first heard or watched the news unravel that horrible day. And yet at that moment I never dreamt that 8 years later I would be blessed enough to be on the roof of building 4800 of Dryden's Flight Research Center at the same moment waiting on the arrival of one of this nations most majestic jewels. I never would have dreamed I would be in such a historic place for flight, watching such a magnificent sight so close, and with such private and special access. We just never get to know where our journeys are going to take us, how far we are going to go, or what we are yet to become, what we are yet to experience, or what we are yet to witness. I never could have dreamed this big. I never could have wished a wish this large. My bubble was so much smaller then, the glass ceiling so much lower. I love how my life has evolved before me. I am where I am meant to be... and everything has led me here for this moment. Getting to watch Discovery go back to KSC with my kids at the early moments of the day was nothing better then perfect. My tummy was rumbling with flu, but I would not have missed it for the world. How do they, as my children, get the chance to soak this in? The shuttle, directly in front of them! I love being able to spark that energy and excitement within them. To let if flow freely from me to them... my next generation. I wonder as I watch them, what it is they will do, how far they will go, what will they become, what will they get to witness, and be a part of. How will they seek out their own journeys, embrace their own histories, and find their own paths. How will they be a part of this great story we call America? We are all a part of a team, a part of a national story... an American dream. These are amazing and wonderful times in which I live in today, and I am eternally grateful for all of them. I thank the Lord, for my many blessings, for my experiences, and my memories. I am truly blessed.

I.T. Waffle Bar Appreciation Breakfast

2009-09-16T11:03:00.000-07:00

We in the Information Technology Branch at Dryden were in serious need of a little moral boosting, and appreciation for the hard jobs that drive us day in and day out. The bosses got together and created a WONDERFUL treat for all of us. A wonderful waffle bar for all of us to feast on and enjoy. Yummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!

The food brought us together, but the laughter and the smiles came from within. It was delightful to see the light heartedness in the air, and to feel the air heavy with smells of fresh warm waffles! The toppings were ENDLESS! And the creations were extra special! It was so much fun just being in the midst of such hardworking and wonderful company.We really missed Rob on own celebration day. He was out ill, and missed yet another fun moment in the Data Analysis Facility history. I guess we will just have to do this or something even more wild and crazy next time. This was a blast none the less. What a great group. I love my job, but not just because of where I work, but rather because of who I get to work with as well. These are the best group of workers anywhere. I love Code V!

Thank you guys for making my job fun every single day I get to come to work. You have my back, look out for me, and are loyal to our department and our center. I love you guys. Thanks for all that you do behind the scenes that no one sees. YOU GUYS ROCK!!!

Camp Jack Hazard...WHERE EVERYBODY ROCKS OUT!!!

2009-08-30T23:04:00.000-07:00

A place filled with the laughter of young children, the warming rays of golden sunlight softly filtering through the dense pine trees, and the smell of red clay dirt and old pine needles permeates the air. The road to camp is marred with boulders and worn ruts that send you bouncing violently to and fro if you dare to drive faster then the 5 mile an hour speed limit. It is humble, and sparse. It is crude by most standards...and yet is it is the most wonderful place on earth. The people, the passions. A love of nature is the reason, but the people are the key. Humble Olive green shacks, lacking doors, with a single light bulb run by generator, filled with 4 sets of simple bunk beds are the basic cabin set up. The walls are covered with names and signatures of adoring children from every session leading back to the beginning of camp that go all the way up to the ceiling. The most beautiful graffiti in the world... art drawn in love by children. This is what I think of when I think of my childhood summers at Camp Jack Hazard. I got to go back this past weekend with my children in tow to the place I left my heart so many years ago. This was a journey of reflection for me, as well as an exuberant embrace of what I have become. 13 years have past, and so much has changed... and yet standing there in my beloved cabin #6 the memories flooded back to me, with over whelming clarity, and I seemed to be transported back in time...only to realize nothing had changed. The most surreal part was that this time I got to share it with those I love the best... my boys. My heart raced as I got to tell the tales of days gone by, of stories told of their mother once young and beautiful, and in love with her Mother Earth. The way my boys listened with bright eyes as I told them of the thunderstorm that overtook the camp one summer day. How it darkened the sky, and the thunder shook the cabin so violently. How the rain came down like buckets dumped from heaven and how I had to stay huddled in the cabin calming the fears of 8 little boys in that very cabin as Joel and Jay frantically worked with pick axes and shovels to make trenches to divert water flow to save the cabin and the camp from flash flooding, and being washed away. It was eating dinner the first night at the Kennedy Meadows Inn and showing them the saloon that I used to love to dance in, and awakened my love of country music, saw dust, hay bails on an old wooden floor, of dusty stinky old pack mules, and real mountain men who work hard, and play even harder. It was standing on the porch of the inn looking out into the meadow and remembering playing in the leaves by the babbling brook with my first love. It was all these memories and more that bring you to the realization that I was in a place of youthful magic. I was back at The YMCA of Stanislaus county's very own Camp Jack Hazard. Their motto is " It will change your summer, and possibly your life." I disagree, it will change your life. There is not a soul that can come here and not be positively altered by the passion, and the people here. The sense of family, and of coming home. I spent much time alone and to myself this past weekend, but not because I was distant, or morose. I was soaking it all in. A human sponge. The sights, the smells, the depth of colors, each footstep on every trail saved back into memory vault. This was the closest I have ever came to heaven in my life. The relationships meant more there. The friendships were weighted in values more meaningful then any precious metal or gold. When life was unjaded by reality, and we knew nothing of heartbreak, disappointment, pain, or sorrow. When your summer was over, and you had to leave your heart shattered because you knew you were leaving it behind on that mountain.

For the most part the camp was exactly the same as I had left it. The natural beauty of the trees, the nature hut all boarded up now, brought to mind visions of mattresses and sleeping bags on the cement porch. I expected to see a beloved wood rat nesting somewhere in someones make shift clothing dressers made from milk crates. :) The meadow was full of sunflowers and how I delighted at watching them turn during the days to keep track of the sun. It was fun to play with my own children in front of the cabin throwing Frisbees, reading stories, and kicking balls. Doing nightly devotions and watching them drift off to sleep in sheer exhaustion from a day well spent. Just to rise at the crack of dawn eager with anticipation for the first melodic ringing of the bells and shouts of good morning from all different directions. The latrines still smelled as you walked past them, and the shower room still had standing water on the floor. The outside wash basins still sputtered out ice cold spring water when brushing your teeth, and the campfires were still on campfire rock overlooking the expanse of tree lined mountain tops. The sky was still a deep azure blue during the day, and the stars still shone so bright there was no need for a flashlight at night. The flying Kazenza's acrobat (family)team from Lithuania were still eccentric, wild, and crazy, and smelled of musty old damp clothing. The acoustic guitars played on the mountain,with the sound of aspen tree leaves rustling in the wind, and the river rushing softly as back up. All of these things brought tears to my eyes and warmth to my heart. I was home.

Some people say I am too happy, but this place oozes it from every nook and cranny of every piece of matter up here. 7000 ft up in the Sierras. It is impossible not to be infected. The fists pounding on the tables, chanting camp songs, in unison as the children stare on in sheer amazement and wonder. Their expressionless faces were truly priceless. Like every parent, and every adult, had not just lost their mind, but had morphed into some total stranger, and was possessed with vitality, youth, and transformed by boundless amounts of pure excitement and energy. They were visibly stunned.

Little had changed... Just the staff. Seeing how everyone grew up and has children, and families of their own was delightful. Who the staff have turned into. When growing up and life takes the reigns... Most of us were generations from the 80's and 90's... but there were those as far back as the 50's, 60's and 70's as well. We all grew older, and had families of our own. To watch and see who married whom, what camp families were created and thriving both under the banner of true camp spirit... pure in love... high in loyalty,... and raised in honesty, and strength. Marriages unlike those of the real world... guided by the foundations set by the ragger's creed. I delighted in watching them, the creativity, and personal strength of their children. One who was rock climbing at the age of 2 was doing the high ropes course at 6. I am not so sure I would do the high ropes course at 19 or at 35 let alone 6. I was impressed by their imaginations, and their sense of wonder that has obviously never been stifled. These are the best of parents, and the kids are the next wonderful generation of soon to be campers, kitchen crew, leaders in training and staff. What a blessed legacy we are so fortunate to get to leave them.

My favorite part of the weekend was watching the evolution of my own son...George in the course of just 3 days at camp. As many know, George has Asperger's, and is rightfully very serious and shows very little emotion. So let me tell you taking him camping I knew he was excited because he packed himself without much prompting. And not a single argument or peep from any of the boys on the 6 hr car ride there. It was peaceful. Upon arriving at the camp a new high ropes course had been erected since my years at the camp. It stood looming 20 to 30 feet in the air high above what once was the lower parking lot where the camp carnival was once held. He looked at it staring up in amazement that first day and said "I am going to do that." Still a mother, and no longer a counselor, I diverted his attention to other less challenging adventures. I mean, this was my bookworm child, the solitary, quiet, soft spoken little giant. The child that needed his little brother to coax and prod him to go to the top level of the playhouses found at McDonald's or Burger King. There is no way he would ever really do anything like that. And that was OK... We all play a role at camp... but this one was not for George. Problem was George didn't know it. Over the course of the next two days we did the low ropes course, we swam in the pool, we did so much arts and crafts that Michael's would be proud... and yet my 9 year old son still burned to do the high ropes course. Finally the last open program time came. While his brothers and I packed for the trip home he proudly got into pants and a long shirt, and declared he was ready and asked if he could go. I chuckled to myself... yeah sure go ahead... it was not like he would ever do it anyway. George, my George, would take one look at someone else doing it, get scared, watch a dozen people, and chicken out as he finally got the courage to put on the harness. My George was safe. "Sure you can go... we will be down in a minute when we get the car packed up." I told him. And with glee in his heart he ran off to program. We finished packing, and took a load of sleeping backs and frame packs full of clothes all the way down the mountain to the car... Colton, Dustin and myself. We wasted no time, and made our way back up the hill to the lower portion of camp where the high ropes course was set up. Colton saw him first... "Is that George?" he asked me. "Where" I said scanning the horizon searching the ground not even thinking to look any higher. "Up there on the pole" Colton both laughing and speaking, amazed at his little brother. Jovial gloating with all bets against him. Mentally delighting in the fact he just knew George was going to have to be rescued by the ropes course director and how he was not going to miss this for the world. I looked up and stopped. Oh my God, it was George. Climbing nearly at the top of the 20 foot tall pole. Strapped in a harness, breathing so hard, and scared to death that I could hear him panting from 100 feet away. I dared not call out to him. Fuzzy, the ropes course director spoke calmly to him. "Now put one knee on top of the pole." And Georgie did. "And now the other one" And George did again. the crowd grew silent, and you could hear a pin drop. "Now put one foot on top of the pole." Fuzzy told George. Always the serious child he commented in his normal monotone " You know this would be much easier if the pole would stop swaying" George projected down to Fuzzy. Fuzzy and the crowd laughed, and Fuzzy told him" You know, I think you are right." With that George lifted his foot and caught his balance and the whole crowd erupted with applause. This was the hardest part. And now the second foot. His eye on the bell. He stood a moment erect and fell in a wild leap for the bell. It rang out and I saw him gently caught by his belayed rope. And watched him gracefully lowered to the ground. I stood there stunned. He did it... George, my George did it... I can't believe it... he really, really, really did it. I must have looked dazed because an old, once deeply cherished, friend asked "Mom, are you OK??" A pause filled the air... was I OK? Was I OK? "Yeah, Oh yeah, I am OK..." I stammer out, as I watch them take the harness off of George. And then I see it, the most beautiful, most amazing sight in all the world... he smiled. Not a grin, but an ear to ear, beaming full of pride and accomplishment smile. George knew he wanted to do it, he set his mind on his course and without hesitation he took the bull by the horns and conquered the beast he called fear. The strength of a man is not the absence of fear, but it is the ability to go on in the face of it. I expected this lesson to be learned from watching my oldest, Marine Corps driven son... but instead I was pleasantly surprised to be taught it from my book worm, solitary, silent, quiet son George.

Camp Jack Hazard changes lives... it enriches lives... and it promotes strength... it infects your heart...it is a place of pure magic, endless beauty, and time stopping grace. I wish I could share this place with the world. I wish I could see every bed filled with vast amounts of children and not enough weeks in the summer to accommodate all of the future dreamers and doers of the world. So few places in this world can you see, feel, catch, and bottle inspiration. Camp Jack Hazard is one of those places. In humbleness comes greatness. My story is merely one of many, George had 3 days here... I had summers, and summers, and summers here. Someday I would love to write a journal of all my memories on this sacred ground. The story of my first real love, the golden unbreakable friendships, the journey of my respect for this planet, and how the flame that started here, flickered deep within me when my life took its darkest turns... How Camp Jack Hazard is more then a place... More then a time... More then a story. Camp Jack Hazard is a shared experience. A life altering trek to self awareness, strength and pride.

I love you guys, and I thank you all for your hard work, dedication, devotion, inspiration, limitless, and timeless love. Every generation, every person leaving their foot print on my life, and within my heart. I am blessed to have experienced it with you.

Thank You,

Desiree Marie Sylvia

The Blessing of Angels...

2009-08-04T11:22:00.000-07:00

I have always wondered about Angels... I think most of us have.

There are those that believe in guardian angels who watch over us and protect us from stepping from the curb when a distracted car is carelessly zooming by our location at break neck speeds totally oblivious that we are there. Some think of spirits, such as of old family members who speak to us via a medium like Silvia Brown, or John Edwards who are in limbo, or in paradise, but need our help to cross over because of some unfinished business here in this world. Some believe in something darker like in the movies "The 6th sense." or Beetlejuice. Where there is an evil or scary feel to the haunting of a house or possession of a human host. There are as many sides to the equation as there are grains of sand within this desert.

I for one have always entertained the thought of angels... beautiful, protective, light, and loving.

I remember in the mists of my mind, of years long gone, as a child... wishing, praying, or simply day dreaming about angels. They were beautiful in my mind, cloaked in brilliant white rays of cleansing light, with fantastically airy fabrics of billowing white. Men and Women, alike, so beautiful and fair, of all colors and skin tones, all shades of hair and eyes. They would be surrounded by clouds so soft and welcoming I thought I could reach into a foggy night and almost touch one. A place of warmth, peace, and tranquillity. The perceptions held by that little girl no doubt delivered by countless hours in Catholic Mass, or CCD classes. Possibly from a bedtime story book, or an after school special movie long forgotten. Where ever the image came from, I , as an adult, in all my dreaming have held it close to my heart, even as a painting could never begin to capture its fullness of essence for me. A richness, a fullness of embodiment... my vision of what an angel might, could, or should possibly be.

I think I knew it, until I knew, what I knew, was wrong. OK, maybe not all wrong, but definitely not all right.

As an adult, I found angels, real angels. Lots of them. Disguised in plain clothing, hidden in familiar faces all around me. From the beginning of Dustin's tragedy to now, I have been very reflective on the people I have been blessed to know.

Some are angels for the moment or the minute...like the nurse who shows up just when you need her to, to tell you her story and give you the faith to carry on. How when she was 6 years old, just as old as my son, she too had 2nd degree burns down her arm, and how it healed in 2 weeks. And how she can barely see the scars today. An Angel with a gift...A simple story, a moment of time, a gallon of hope.

Some angels come for the day... like the paramedics, the firemen, the sheriffs, or even the neighbor that showed up with dinner that fateful day when the world stopped spinning if only for a moment. Angels that show up unexpectedly at the most critical moments of our need, ...there solely for us. They came and took the reigns when I no longer could. When parenting is not enough. And as quick as they came, they were gone... but what they brought to my house, to my son, to myself... These angels in the blink of an eye, brought needed strength in our time of weakness.

Some Angels come for the month... like the wonderful burn nurse, Mrs. Frances Williams, who neither talks down to us, nor pities us on our journey to recovery. How she encourages us, and praises us, when she knows how hard it is to have to hurt your child to clean a wound, for their own good. How she takes the time to give step by step instructions, and is equally gentle with Dustin's physical state as she is with our emotional states. She is an angel and we were put in the right place at the right time to have the blessing of her healing hands, and healing heart. An angel who dresses in smocks, and simply heals.

Some angels are here for a lifetime... like the beloved Aunt who shows up at the door to stay for the week because she could hear in my voice, over a telephone line, that I, while strong for everyone else, was truly weak and falling apart. A woman who saw a need, and dropped everything to address it. No money, no thanks needed. Just to be there. To help with laundry, meals, children, and dishes. Her life is crazy, her commitments are many, her need is great at home... and yet she is here with me. She shoulders my load, bares my burdens. My angel of sanity she brings on her wings a gift for me... a gift of much needed rest.

Some Angels are here for however long they are needed with no set times or limitations... like this amazing guy from work. Carl Baccus. A guy who just shows up, who is not smothering or imposing. He just is...there. There at the hospital when I had no idea how I was going to get home. Just there to call and vent to... just there to pop in to check on us. Just there to come by and say hello, if by telephone, instant message, or in person he just is there. A shoulder to lean on, an arm to hold you up. A badly needed pair of arms to just hug me. A battery of strength in which to glean from when I am running on beyond empty. He is my angel and his gift to me is a friendship, a gift of diversion, a gift of peace.

There are angels that surround us so numerous and vast that the sea of faces turns into a blur of lines and colors. And yet there are still more. Those angels that stand quietly, motionlessly, in the backgrounds of ones life. The ones that get little to no credit for the roles that they play. The ones that are faceless, and often nameless. Angels who donate their money, when they so do not need to, but just did unknowing that my need was great. How at the perfect time an angels card with $20 allows me to pay the co-pay I did not know how I was going to swing, to get Dusty to the burn center that week. Or co workers that collected money and gave it to me literally moments before already paid co pays from the ER were about to bounce in my account. One handed me the money and told me not to cry... I did anyway. How groceries were taken care those few days remaining before payday. How dressings, tapes, over the counter pain meds, and special burn creams were funded by the gifts of faceless angels. The weight it lifted from my shoulders. The blessings of scores of angels. They gave me money, but what it brought was more then what money can pay for. It was the gift of caring, support, and family...that I did not realize I had.

And so many more still. The angel who in the mist of this medical drama found out my washing machine broke, and who knew I had no vehicle to transport it to get it fixed... and came to dropped it off for me. The angels who offered up their washing machine so that Dustin could have fresh linens for his dressing changes. The angels who shared their burn stories with me to better allow me to cope and assist my son. The angels who called just to hear the tale and know that we were OK for themselves. The angels who sent Dustin care packages with things to do on his tummy while he recovered. The angels who cleaned their rooms and did their chores without being asked because they could see I was over my limit. The angels that I called, and who's heart broke along side mine... with me.

I have seen angels, I have know angels, I am surrounded by them every moment of my days. I thank my Lord for sending them, each one of them to me. For lifting me up, for carrying this family, for blessing my son. For the prayers, the support, the hope, the strength, the healing, the caring, the strength, the peace, the friendships, the diversions, for all the moments of knowing how truly loved and blessed we are. As well as for all the wonderful good things that have come from this is.

For all of our many angels... All I can say is... with the most sincere of heart... Thank You.

A Burned Child... and a Blessing.

2009-07-31T17:15:00.000-07:00

I am beyond words mortified by the events that have enfolded about this family in the last couple of days. These revolutions of a globe have been horrifying and tragic at best. To help wrap my own mind around the developments of what happened last Tuesday I seek to tell the story just one more time. A story that has been uttered with an increase in volume, and strength with each rendition of it. A story that with each slow playback becomes less surreal and more a clinical reverberation of the events.

The day was Tuesday, July 28th, 2009. It started out as all the others before it. Leaving for work early in the morning and with the same amount of harassing phone calls from bored children at home. Eager for school to start, they played with the same toys, the same games, the same pets that they had spent all summer with. My 15 year old had a friend come over. Mainly staying in his room they watched TV and listened to music.

After lunch the boys became restless, and the swamp cooler was doing little to keep the house cool in the 115 degree heat. They all were sweating and needed a cool down. Colton, my oldest and most responsible son, took his friend and his two younger brothers into the backyard to play in the sprinklers. Upon turning on the water they spayed themselves, the water was cool, but not cold. So he started spraying down the two younger boys with squeals of delight filling the backyard... the game was a foot. Colton being the bigger brother, grabbed his youngest brother and shoved the hose down the back of his shorts. Brotherly games of playful torture... no harm no foul.

Except, that is when tragedy struck. The light green hose, 150 feet in length, had been laying half under the protective shade of the tree in back, and half on the radiating sand of the Mojave Desert. The water was cool to the touch from the comfortable shade of the tree, but once it was in the back of Dustin's cotton shorts, it turned scalding hot from the portion that had been laying in the sand and sun. An innocent hose, a lazy summer day, a playful group of young boys, and tragic accident.

Dustin began to scream a blood curdling scream, one that Colton knew was wrot with terror, fear, and pain. He grabbed for the hose yanked it from his young brother's pants and rushed the 6 year old from his feet, whisking him into the house, down the hall, and into a cold shower. With the cool water raining down on him he seemed to be fine for the moment. Dustin was calm and quiet. Colton ran back outside to turn off the water so that the shower would have greater water pressure. He knew he was hurt, but not how bad. As he finished turning off the water spicot, the screams of terror and pain came flooding back to him from inside the house. He grabbed the phone and frantically called me at work... no answer. "Come on Mom! Pick Up, PLEASE Pick Up!!!" He in a frenzied panic dialed again.... MOM PLLLEEEAAASSSEEE! No answer. I was in a meeting. By this time the blister were starting to form and breaking in the cool water, and Dustin was really hurting bad. The terror and panic was getting thicker by the minute, Colton knew this could not wait until I could be reached. He ran across the street and got a good family friend and neighbor the boys affectionately call Grampy. He ran over, and soon had Dustin out of his shorts, keeping him in the shower for as long as he could stand it. He was freezing, shivering, within the cool water flowing down his little body. And Yet his flesh was burning still from within. Donnie (Grampy) Called me twice more, but this time left messages on my work phone, which Colton in his heightened state of dealing with the situation was unable to do.

10 min. later I got out of my meeting and got my messages. Grampy's voice was cold, and stern, more direct then I was use to. The words did not immediately register but the tone of voice did. Someone was hurt. I listened to that message and I got only two words... call immediately. My heart sank, and ever thankful for the missed call button on my phone I immediately redialed his cell. Grampy was curt and direct. The words were a jumble of my own heart beat ringing in my ears and muffled sounds coming from a phone. The whole office where I work seemed to get deafening silent, and the whole world began to slow down. My arms took so much more time to move, my feet were heavy and planted to the ground. In trying to run I found myself in a slow frame of a bionic man movie, waiting in the back of my mind for the music to begin. My thoughts became s rush of who to call, what to say, how to get approval to go. I chased down Rob and Ken, my bosses, who had moments before walked out the door to go to another meeting in another building on the NASA Dryden site. They granted me leave and asked me to check in to give a status update later on. I agreed, ran to grab my things, shut down my computer, and run as fast as I could, stuck in slow motion hell, to my car. Once inside I drove the speed limit for about 2 min. and then could clearly not care if they took my license away or not. I drove like a bat out of hell... easily reaching 100 miles an hour on the short stretch of freeway between the Edwards AFB exit and Clay Mine Road. It was amazing as if God himself had cleared me a path. Cars and Big Rigs ran side by side in front of me far from the exit, and again in my rear view mirror... but nothing and no one was around me. OK, so it was not the parting of the sea, but it was the right mini miracle that I needed for the moment.

Once on Clay Mine Road it was the gates wide shut, stuck behind an old man going 5 miles an hour in a beat up mini van... I glance to the on coming lane... no cars. I take the hop. This is not in my nature... I would rather wait and make my trip 45 min longer then ever pass another vehicle. It is unsafe, and it is scary. This moment, I did not care... one of my sons was hurt and they needed me. I did not know how bad, or if there was anything that I could do, but I needed to be there... and I needed to be there NOW! The drive while only moments long was hard and tedious. When I got there and saw him, I thought for a moment on what I should do. A million thoughts flooded through my mind. Do I take him to the ER? Do I call an ambulance? Do we have insurance? Does it freaking matter? What do I do, What do I do, What do I do. I grab the phone and pause looking at it unsure if I should or should not call. Silently arguing to myself. Until finally a voice from deep within me cuts though the voices. IT IS YOUR BABY JUST CALL!!! So I did...

911 what is your emergency? My son has been burned. Where is he now? He is on the bedroom floor. Is he coherent? I uh ummm. Is he answering you when you talk to him? Yes, Yes, he is fine, answering fine. Put him in the shower, cold water Mame. OK, I hand the phone to Colton... And I begin to mobilize the troops... My voice is calm and steady... My thoughts are clearer and more direct... Colton, I need you to play relay tell me what they say and tell them what I say. All the while scooping my son, Dusty Joe, scared, wet, and hurting into my arms. I carry him to the bathroom and place him back into the cold water of the tub, he just got free of. He begins to cry softly. I ask George to get me two cups, I begin pouring water over each butt cheek one at a time. It is blistering and the skin is falling away from his body. I keep repeating this process over and over and over again. Not daring to stop until help arrives. I tell George to go out front and wait for the ambulance to wave them in. I lean into him closely and as softly and calmly as I can I tell him he is going to be OK. I tell him that I love him, and that I remind him that I have never left him before and I am not about to start now. I ask him if he trusts me... He says yes. I ask him if he believes me... He says a little stronger...yes. Good, I tell him, this is my job, this is what I do... I take care of you. Just do as I say and it is going to work out... I promise. He seems comforted now, still cold and afraid...

Donnie comes in and asks if he can take over pouring cold water on his poor burned bum. I, grateful for the relief, say yes. I leave the room pacing waiting for help to arrive. I place blankets on the front room floor for when the paramedics arrive, a pillow too. Dustin will need to be comfortable while they stabilize him. Symptoms of shock are racing through my head... Cold clamy skin ( He is wet in a cold shower), what else? Hypotension (like I have a blood pressure cuff his size), next! ummmmm irregular breathing, rapid pulse... I run back into the crowded bathroom looking at the veins in his neck... and the rise and fall of his chest from the back... all the while changing a toilet paper roll that somehow got neglected to hide my true intentions for being there. A little elevated, but not much, in fact I think mine is more rapid then his. He is doing well... where are the paramedics? I make my way back to the front yard... no sign of them. I hear sirens off in the distance... they are coming... coming for Dustin... what a wonderful sound... sirens...a moment of time when seconds turn into minutes. And there is a feeling of peace. But before you can get comfortable or even take a breath you are snapped within an instant back into reality. What are some other signs? Weakness, confusion, anxiety, loss of consciousness. I mentally review Dustin's condition. OK, so far so good... A big truck rolls up... my first thought was, you aren't the ambulance... then it dawns on me. Duhhh it is the fire department, they get here first. Moments before the paramedics... within the flash of an eye they are off the truck and coming into my home... Do you want him out of the tub? So you can get to him easier? I ask in half relief and half pleading for help. Yes was all I heard before I was running back to the bathroom to swoop and scoop my son once more to the front room. By now more people were swarming about... So many different uniforms, partnered teams, stretchers... I had to get out of their way. Mom Mode kicks into high gear... Colton, George get back, get out of here so they can work. The boys move to the far wall just beyond the couch, but still within close view of their brother. Fear in both their eyes, my heart bleeding for both of them, but more intent on making sure Dustin was stable. Then out of the corner of my eye I see Tyler Irish. A young man from the church who just weeks before was sitting having a late dinner of homemade tacos and corn chips at our very own dinner table with his sister and my children. He was working on the Hall Ambulance rig today, and Dustin was his call. I hear Grampy talking to Dustin; Dusty, you know Tyler don't you? You remember Jessica's brother? Little man turns his head to look over his shoulder and recognized a face in a sea of would be rescue heroes. Yes, Hi Tyler. He says before resting his face back onto the pillow. Hey little guy, I am going to take good care of you OK? I am right here. Dustin's body relaxes and he knows he is going to be OK. In the blink of an eye, the stretcher comes in and so many hands are on it, it seems out of some movie scene. He is only 55 lbs. soaking wet, I could pick him up. Within the moment, too quick for my mind to registe the thought, he was on the stretcher, burn blankets were already in place, and discreet blankets draped his tiny frame as he was being belted in for the ride. Dustin was scared for just a second... his eyes wide with panic. Don't worry, I am not leaving you. I am coming with you. He is put into the rig, and I in the front seat. There is a little square window that allows the paramedic and the driver to communicate. Dustin is wildly looking about. I call out to him. I am right here son, I am right here... he searches for my voice and upon seeing me settles down and relaxes. Tyler the paramedic is busy placing electrodes, taking vitals, starting two IV's. He works silently, quietly, efficiently. A graceful dance of life saving ebbs and flows as the rig sways gently with the road. Dustin is at ease. He is calm. Tyler the driver trys to calm me down with small talk, and then the rig becomes silent. The road becomes long, and the stillness, the unknowing of how bad it is, and where will he be going, how long will he be gone, how far away will the hospital be from the rest of the boys, how am I ever going to make this happen? All these flooded thoughts drowning me. I don't know the answers. I say a little prayer... Dearest Heavenly Father, I don't know your reason for his trial, I just know that it is for his greater good, please let your will be done, take care of us. Amen. Tyler offers a tissue, as tears stream down my cheeks. I agree. He hollers for the medic to get me one.... no, no, no I grab for some left over napkins from one of their lunches... this is good. Tyler smiles. Good Enough.

I think to myself...yes, good enough. I begin in that moment to see the many blessings. How well he is doing, how calm he is. How well taken care of he is. I call the pair of Ambulance guys Tyler Squared. Young men, both doing an excellent job. I am amazed at the way his little boy is designed to tighten up to the pain of the burn and his vital areas are left unscathed by the searing heat of the water. How he takes no meds on the way there and only a single cc of morphine upon getting to the ER. This kid is a trooper. He talks to the nurses and tells him his pain level is a 6 on a scale of one to ten. A 6! I know some women who would complain that their own menstrual cycles are a 6, and his entire butt cheeks are bubbled and blistered and nearly gone. Is he serious? Yes, a 6. They give him the morphine shot.

Colton had offered before I left to go with Dustin to the hospital. I told him, I had to be the one to go now to do the insurance paperwork , but if he is admitted he will be staying with Dustin if he liked it or not. This thought comes to me... our family is blessed. Richly and deeply blessed. My immediate family is not close. And I have often wondered how I could teach my own children about having each others backs, and the meaning of family when mine is such a loose interpretation of that word. And yet, today, going trough the trials and tribulations set before us this day. Amongst the painful dressing changes, and the truly bleak financial situation this places us within... we are blessed. Blessed beyond measure, because we are wealthier then most. We are a family by every definition of the word. In times of strife and tragedy we can and will mobilize all of our talents and abilities to rise to the challenge, meet any hardship, and overcome any obstacle. This road is not an easy one, but the right roads never are... so I take solice in knowing we are on the right path... going in the right direction, and this team I call family is only growing tighter and stronger with each day.

A childhood revisited...

2009-06-30T19:30:00.000-07:00

My Childhood...

There are places on this earth where the aspen trees sound more welcoming then anywhere else on earth. Where the smells are better then cologne wafting off a well dressed man, and the comfort you feel is more relaxing then 10 days at the spa. I call it home...

Home... An environment offering security and happiness, a physical structure, a place built on a literal foundation of concrete. A home that one grew up in, and built memories within. This is my childhood home. 1821 Rossmoor Way Modesto, Ca 95355. A safe, quiet neighborhood, with large established Modesto Ash trees lining the streets, a place where kids on bikes police the parks, an 35 mile an hour winter winds give cause for concern of toppling trees.

Memories flood me as I look upon this place... Pictures of little girls in roller skates, banana seat bikes, dark blue doll strollers, and an 18 inch high kiddie pool... bring a smile to my face. A place where laying on a blanket on the front lawn was peaceful, safe, and relaxing...where the suns rays infiltrating our suburban backyard warmed the blossoms of the privet bushes and yellow honeysuckle vines which made for an intoxicating mixture that embedded itself in our newly laundered sheets that hung from the family clothesline. The metal yellow mini blinds from my childhood room, and the delicate crystal teardrop that shone mystical rainbows across the starch white walls. A time when the melody of a single silver flute, or a petite piccolo would wander down the hall and dance in the air from my older sister's room. A place where the darkened shadow of an unlit bathroom flowing into a hallway at night caused us to vault like little gymnasts from the Olympics in unfounded fear after a scary movie on our tiny remote less television set.Where the hallway corners had worn paint, and worn carpets. Where Mom made the best homemade chocolate chip cookies, and the lemonade was always made from frozen lemon cubes that were squeezed with love from the tree in the yard.A place where catching Dad asleep on the floor in front of the TV gave us dreams of becoming the next great Picasso and Dad being our victoriously unwilling canvas. Where slumber parties were best held in old heavy canvas army tents next to an open sliding glass patio door in the early days of summer, and where a garden was a mere experiment of water flow, fire pits, and entomology. A place where the best dog in the world was a rescued mutt from the local animal shelter and almond blossoms fell like snow across the well maintained backyard. Where a liquid amber tree was as tall as the stars in the sky, and a little girl could embrace her dreams. I was a dreamer, I always have been, always will be. My dreams are my moments of peace.To some home is the people that make you feel loved and cherished and special. The people who lift us up when we are down, and believe in us even when we give up on ourselves. The ones who see past our own put downs, and negative banter. Life's cheerleaders and earthly angels. Friends with and without bloodlines. Treasured strangers who cling tight to us in all weather. The ones with faithfully open doors, and hot dinner's at the end of crazy days. The listening ears who hear our tears, and feel our sorrows... and still make us laugh in spite of it all. To some home is the tiny pitter patter of little feet. Of children that cry in the night and need your love, attention, and compassion. Of offspring that look and act like us, and those that never could. To be parents and friends to both human and animal family members the same. To nurse them back to health when they are ill, and love them even when they break our hearts. The mixture of personalities, and passions, of beliefs, and convictions. The greatest of all god given gifts. The relationships and personalities that complete the family structure as a whole. To some home is the community, the town, the structures, and places of our youth. The trees that were great for climbing in. The fields that welcomed us to a game of hide and seek with our friends or our siblings. The frequent vacation spots nestled in the perfect spot. The lakes that left us blissfully freezing to death, and the way the sun kissed our skin with warmth. The museums that you knew like the back of your hand. For me that was Pinecrest Lake, Castle Air Museum, and Mickey's Grove Park. I love these places. It was fun to go home, to play, and relax... but I am just as joyous about coming back to the moment of adulthood, the decision making, and job duties of today. For today is the childhood of my children's youth. Today their memories are being formed, and I am a strong partner in it. Who they become is being shaped today by the people, places, and events unfolding in this era. I look forward to their trips home to me, and the wonderment of their own childhood's revisited.

We need a Cure...

2009-06-21T22:29:00.000-07:00

Tonight I got word of a fallen friend. He will surly rise from the ashes as the Phoenix and carry his two young sons with him into a stronger, more beautiful future. But today..., today he is broken. Let me tell you a story of a man. He is a retired Marine, a straight forward, by the book, tell you like it is Marine... retired in paper alone. He is a good man, an excellent father, and an outstanding husband. The Marine's are known world round for strength, and character, and moral justice. But I challenge that propaganda view of this man fore it only limits his inner greatness and valor. I think the truest test of the character and strength of a man is tested not one fought on a battle field, but in sterile, white, cold, dark, hospital rooms. Where a man versed in the battle of war, is helpless. Where weapons are useless, and love is the only true marker of relationships and the value of human life. Where a touch of a hand once taken for granted is absorbed into memory, where the gentle sound of a heart beat is transformed into musical melody. Where looks without words carry the most passionate weight. This is where true character is tested, and man's nature is pushed beyond limits. Where a Marine's strength is dwarfed by the strength of which is nested deep inside of him. The hardest battle, the steepest climb. This is where love abounds, life makes no sense, and relationships carry the most weight. This friend sat and watched his wife, and love of his life, battle breast cancer for 10 years. A Marine who can not bring a kabar, or a gun to a cancer fight. A Marine who could only sit back and watch. Helpless... and alone... His wife was diagnosed with breast cancer that had already spread to her lympth nodes upon birth of their last child... 10 years ago. She was a nutritionist and took excellent care of herself and her family. How he would sneak coffee at work, since she knew she did not approve of it. :) Oh how he loved her, oh how he loves her still. How the children have never known their mother not to be ill, and how this must be a shock to them. She could not die, would not die, not her. She had gotten close before, but she always pulled through...but this was different. She lost her fight, and the Lord took her home. He sits alone in the darkness of the night alone. He misses her, and he is weak. A weak that he can not, and will not show to anyone else. He must be strong, strong for the kids, for the family, for his co-workers, and friends. But alone at night when it is just him and his Lord... he weeps. We need a cure... My heart shatters into a million shards for this man, and yet I am helpless to offer condolences or sympathies. My heart bleeds for a man who alone feels that he should be better prepared for the title wave of emotions that now drown him because he knew this day would come...but isn't. I wish I could wrap my arms around him and take away his pain, and give him some of my own strength to help him make it through. How do you gift friendship, respect, and strength... when hope is lost? My best friend in all the world battled breast cancer twice and won the battle. The most beautiful, elegant, and strong woman that I know. I watched her then with the same unknowing of what to do or what to say as I watch my friend now. It deeply saddens me. Tanya is a survivor, and my friend's wife is not. We need a cure... My sister lost her husband a little over a year ago to colon cancer, he was only 36 years old. She too is left behind with two children. I watch and listen to her hurt and anguish, and cry for her. She too lost the love of her life... a Marine. A straight forward, by the book, tell you how it is Marine. Brad was her life, and he still is today. I watch her struggle with single parenting, and grieving. The waves still crashing upon her, wave after wave, fewer and farther apart, but still they're coming from out of the blue... a memory, a touch, a feeling, a smell. We need a cure... I do not know which road is the easy one? To be the one who has the cancer and has to fight, and go through chemo, and radiation, and medications after medications? To be the loved one who has to sit by and watch the decline of your lover, best friend, and hero die, and still be strong enough to carry on for everyone else around you when your whole world is caving in. Or to be the helpless co-worker, friend, or family member who sits in a corner from a far and weeps for your pain, and loss. We need a cure... I could not sleep tonight, I needed to write so that I could silence my mind, and calm my own spirit. I leave you with one last piece of this puzzle for me. I went to the temple on Saturday with a list of people to put on the prayer roll. Lists that others had asked me to write on their behalf. As I sat there, I said a prayer, "Dearest Lord, please bring to my mind, the names of those that need these prayers most." I instantly thought of a few people... some of which were my friend, his wife, and his sons. I thought this odd since they are not LDS, but did not bat an eye. I jotted their names on the paper and slipped it in the box while praying my own simple little prayer for angels to hold each of them within their protective wings.... A prayer is a prayer, and a blessing is a blessing...no matter which faith it comes from. I thank Heavenly Father now, for guiding me in the only real way that I can help this family... with my sincere and heartfelt prayers. My heart breaks, and tonight as I say my prayers, I thank him for all his tender mercies, and ask him for a cure, if it be his will. We need a cure...

May God Bless Us All.

Birthday Road Trip...

2009-06-17T22:10:00.000-07:00

Well apparently I am having a midlife crisis...granted it is a small one, but I think it is one none the less. If anyone knows me, even a little, they know that I live in a self described bubble. Always have. I love traveling, but not alone, and never as the pilot. Actually not even as the navigator, I see myself more in the role of the happy, perky, easy going stewardess extraordinaire. I pack the car, get the kids ready, hand out drinks as needed, request pit stops for potty breaks, and have control of in flight movies, and occasional radio stations. What I do not do ever is drive. I hate to drive, in fact if I could ride my bicycle to and from work I would. Driving is a chore. In a world of expressionless lifeforms, merging and speeding from one destination to another, and anger all the rage when you are behind the wheel... I am not interested in the distraction or the added level of stress. Within my comfort zone this annoyance factor is manageable...but out there? Out there I become one of them, with the difference of instead of a vente Starbucks wonder concoction in my hand I have a steering wheel. Did I say I had a steering wheel with a full on white knuckled death grip? I do...really, I do. OK, Here is the problem... I live in the middle of no where. A vast expanse in all directions of tranquil, desolate, barren, desert landscape. With no spouse to take pity on me, and being as stubborn as a dang Borax 20 mule team mule, who needs no man in my life to take care of me...well, I have to take myself. That means driving. That is if I ever want to see anything but desert. I am dying to go and do, and yet all I actually do is sit and wait. Now, at the cusp of my 35th birthday, I feel like life is finally at the highest peak for myself, and I seek to push the envelope, burst the bubble, and forge new paths. 35 years while short on number, have all been hard fought years. I gladly celebrate living through each and every one of them... as well as my sincere gratitude for not having to relive any of them. I am going to celebrate in a fashion unlike the glitz, glamor, and over the top style most people think of when they think of me. I am going on a road trip...solo. A right of passage I guess. I am going to go to the LA Temple and spend a little time with my father. I am going to leave early and drive in darkness just in time to arrive at the crest of morning to watch the new day spill forth onto Temple grounds. I am going to sit by the fountain and watch the sunrise with my Dad. I am going to do a session and sit in the Celestial Room and thank him for my many blessings. I am going to ask him for his continued resolve to guide me, and his promise to see me prosper. I am going to weep for his tender mercies, and his loving spirit. I am going to share with him my hopes, my dreams, and for his will to be done. in spite of them. And when he has heard enough from me and grows tired of my countenance then I am off to a little Italian restaurant I love called "Earth, Wind & Flour" for lunch. A tiny little hole in the wall place on Wilshire Blvd. that has such rich decadent entrees, that you are never quite sure if you are eating the meal or the desert. And the buttered bread makes your eyes roll back into the back of your head. A place that is quiet and peaceful... and more aptly suited for the cobblestone streets of Italy then downtown LA. And when I have had my fill of my senses and my food, I will be headed for the serenity of the ocean. Malibu actually. I want to smell the salty sea air, and walk on a soft, wet, sandy beach. I want to take a moment to just breathe. I want to smile into the vast out reach of water, and waves, and cast my mental bottle of hopes, dreams, and aspirations yet to be fulfilled vigorously within. I want to be truly happy...alone. Not there for a child's pleading, or for a parental request, or a lovers desire, but for me. To know that I can go and do anything. To stand there in the sand and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can be anything that I want to be. That there is a horizon set before me of possibilities only limited by my own vision. I want to stand there, in my minds eye, with a jeweled corsage pin and pop my own bubble. Once I have done that... I am going to venture forth to Sylvia Park. I have no idea what to expect there, so it is an adventure all in itself. Maybe it is town of 2 people, or maybe it is a real child's playground. Maybe it is just a road in which I have to take to get me from here to there. Whatever it is, I am sure of one thing... it will be turned into a metaphor for my life. I don't know why I have to go... I just feel like I do. With the final days approaching of my divorce, my name will soon be changed once again to Desiree Marie Sylvia. No longer Desiree Job. The name that I have made for myself... the one that everyone in this chapter of my life knows me as. I have to come to terms with accepting the name I put, so willingly, up on a shelf so many years ago. I have to mentally dust if off, and try it on...I have to ensure that I know within my heart of hearts, and the deepest recesses of my own soul that with the loss of one name does not take away who I am, or what I have accomplished, nor does putting on the old robes that never fit me mean it is going to tarnish my spirit or limit my potential. I am who I make myself to be. A name means nothing, and yet it feels heavy. I am the self rescuing space princess... I can travel, and go, and do, and be... I can decorate the world as I choose with what colors I feel like putting on my canvas with each new sunrise. I can even wear a crown if I so desire. It means nothing to everyone else in the world, but what I see, and how I choose to view it, is what shapes me. I am going to stand there in Sylvia Park... and park my old baggage. I am going to leave behind the old and retain the new. I am going to choose to put the right foot forward... and then I am going to come home. Home, to the place where I belong... with my boys, my friends, and NASA. I hope to be come back stronger...less fearful. For each of us, it is a choice. Fear is a spirit, and I choose to let him in no longer... I will travel, and I will go, and I will do, and I will be. Fear will no longer hold me back. Without fear there is only horizon... Fear much like faith is the belief in something in which is not seen. One is a negative spirit, and one is a positive one. I choose the latter. I have faith that now is the best part of my road, and while it is still uphill, I am about to take off and fly. This is my birthday present to myself. My birthday trip is the gift of flight and freedom.

Things we learn...

2009-06-11T23:02:00.000-07:00

Did you know that Dez in Portuguese means the number 10? I am Portuguese, and my name is Dez... so I have been a 10 all my life and never knew it. That is so cool. Corny, but Cool.

Bedtime Stories...

2009-06-07T21:26:00.000-07:00

Once upon a misty sun lit day, there were two princes of peace and good will. They stood under a beautiful blue sky, dusted with soft billowy clouds, in wait of their next big assignment. As they waited upon the shore they listened to the waves gently crashing on the beach. The time for action seemed unbearable. They were poised and ready, but no word came. The stood their guard, never wavering in their faith knowing that the time would soon be upon them to be called into duty. Then finally it

happened, the call they had been waiting for had happened. It was as if the heavens had opened up and sent forth a welcoming rainbow to guide their way. There was a princess in a far away land in perilous trouble and needed help quick. But only one could go... the other was to stay and guard the post. It was quickly decided, the older more experienced, of the two hero's should go. Quickly he lit the fuse of his courageous mission and was off. Hurdling as fast as he could go in a race to be at the poor princess's side. It seemed to go by in the blink of an eye, as he focused on her destination... He rehearsed and went over and over the things that he must do to make her safe and operational again. His whole goal in live was to serve and this was finally his golden opportunity... and for a princess, how lucky was he. She was so far away, and he was fearful he may not find her in the vastness of her country. He knew he would have to report in his progress. He charged on, and even in his tired exhaustion, when doubts began to cloud his mind and pessimism reigned... as he thought to himself that he just could not go on any longer than he already had, he still pushed himself. And in the darkness there was a still small voice from deep within himself. A quiet comforter of peace and sanity, an inner spirit of moral righteousness, and strength. A little spark of resilience that could not, and would not, let the weak and weary princess down. He knew that she was counting on him to save her. He set aside his own burning need for rest to continue his journey and his quest to be at her side. He traveled in the darkness of nightfall, and found peace in his surroundings. He could sense he was getting close. He found his way by a wonderfully mystical feeling to her exact location. And what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

She was beautiful, more beautiful then he had imagined to himself. She seemed to glow and radiate with a depth of beauty that could not just come from the outside alone. He knew she was different, she was special. For a moment stunned by her intense aura. He had to cognitively regain the reason for his mission. She needed him. As he approached her he could see nothing amiss. He asked her what the problem was... She replied "I have a

broken heart" While our heroic prince wanted to be the one to rescue her, he knew the only way to save her was to teach her to open up her heart, let someone in, and let her learn to love them in return. While it would have been easy to whisk her away and bring her back to safety, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she needed to be able to stand on her own, strong and true, and beam out her gift to the world. He, with love and patience, guided her into becoming the woman that he knew she was capable of being.

And once she was strong enough to make it on her own, the prince of honor, left her... loving her all the more. For she was destined to do great things, and bring forth great advancements to the kingdom... and he knew that his continued presence would only serve as a distraction to the benevolent princess. His heart said one thing, while he knew the truth... he had to go home...alone. While parting was difficult, it was what had to be done. He loved her enough to let her go. The journey home was a lonely road filled with introspection and memories.

At last he made his way back to the place that he called home. To familiar shores, and the welcoming arms of his family. The day was warm and breezy, and it was filled with excitement and joyous noblemen and women standing at every corner to witness the great and glorious day. His people celebrated his return to the kingdom with parades, lights, and banners. The whole place was awash in great joy...with one exception. The prince. His heart was broken. In nobleness is sometimes pain. The right road is not always the easy solution, and this day he found no comfort in the knowledge of the justification of his actions.

With all of the attention, love and admiration of his people, with new beautifully hand crafted and precious robes placed upon his strong and sturdy shoulders, the world seemed a bit more dreary, with vast hues of gray, to him. He was happy to a point, but not entirely. The prince was gracious and thankful to his loyal subjects, and yet he thought "How could I tell them I have left a piece of myself on this mission?" The music and fanfare began to fade within his ears. He was more quiet then usual, more introverted... no one would have noticed it, if not for that one person that could always see through the facade...the queen...his mother. "Come with me, my son, tell me what weighs so heavily upon your heart." she softly asked him. "I can not Mother, you would never understand." The young prince retorted. "Try me" the queen whispered back. She knew her son's heart was breaking, and she had already received word of his love with the fair and beautiful princess from afar. He walked with his mother through the vast garden's of their palace. Telling her of the woman he had met and how he had loved her. He spoke of helping her grow and

of setting her free. As he spoke, his heart was lifted, and hers along with it. The pain and sorrow once felt was replaced with only joyous and loving feelings that encircled them both. The queen was very proud of the young prince. He had learned far more then she had ever taught him. Loving someone takes maturity, and strength. It takes selflessness, and courage. It even sometimes takes self inflicted pain...for the betterment of the other. The queen smiled to herself as she thought to herself "My son, my noble, handsome young

prince is indeed worthy to one day become our just and noble king"

The End

STS-125 Ferry Flight back to Florida from CA...

2009-06-01T11:09:00.000-07:00

Oh how I wish I had more time to devote to this entry. There is no possible way that I can do justice with the limited time I have available to adequately convey my passionate exuberance for this experience. I love this job, I love this place, I love this country, I love my life. There are a limited number of Shuttle flights remaining, and June 13th's scheduled launch is the very last scheduled shuttle recovery for California as we know it. This is the next to the last, the end of an era. The sunset of a prolific time and place. I stand here at the neatest place on earth, doing what I do best... just being me, and I am loved for it. I am surrounded by amazing minds, technical feats unimaginable to most of us, and the spirit of potential wafting within the air like a man's cologne after he passes. I am passionate about the true treasures within my life, the experiences I get to be a part of, and of the deep abiding friendships which are being formed upon these sacred grounds. I know it is cliche to say, but I do feel as a flower before the bloom. I know that my greatest potential is yet to be. NASA helps me to define who and what I am without fear, and with confidence. I am in all aspects a part of this team, a part of this clay and sand, a part of this living legacy of greatness. I work everyday to reach my current potential, and continually strive far beyond it for all of those around me. I love that these people are humble, and do not see themselves as what we, on the outside looking in, see. NASA is a symbol of greatness, of amazement, of wonder, of technology, of conquering all odds, and personal growth and passion while all being neatly wrapped up in this mighty nation. No one on earth looks upon the shuttle as mediocre, or mundane. The droves of people parked on the side of the highway, or camped out in viewing areas, or standing on over passes with great cameras, all just to get a decent picture of this ferry flight. I am honored everyday I get to drive into this great place. NASA in name alone invokes excitement... I just wish everyone could experience what I feel. The whole nation, as well as those that work for NASA, need to feel good about this place, and what we do again... we need to have the pride, and passion, and not be afraid to be vocal of where we work or the contributions that are made here. To encourage one another not to stifle the energy that is on this campus. It is our passions that fuel interest. Today I came to work at 0500 to see the shuttle leave at 0530, only to find it had been delayed until 0830. So I went into work and helped with a ViTS between our awesome CIO at Dryden and the big guys at Headquarters. It was fun to be a part of the inner circle even if I was just a fly on a wall in full observation mode. Awed and honored, it was not easy to take notes, to stay focused and on track. However, as soon as I was able, I was back to the roof of building 4800 to watch the 747 taxi off. I had a good friend in tow running as fast as I could in heels to the tarmac... only to find the 747 was already halfway down the runway heading out of sight. I was disappointed, and ever grateful that I took some up close pictures at 0500 with limited sunlight rather then not getting any at all. My friend and I headed to the observation deck to watch it fly away. Once on the roof tear after tear began to fall down my cheeks, I was heartbroken I had missed her initial taxi maneuvering to the runway. No sobbing, just silent tears...but it was enough to draw some unwanted attention... called on the carpet by my friends, I told them to shut up. I know I am a geek, but this is my passion, this is what I live and die for. Not for a name, a logo, a plane, or even the shuttle, but rather I thrive for what it symbolizes and what it stands for. A seemingly impossible dream achieved... Watching STS-125 fly, lift off, and take to the sky was nothing less then inspiring... How such a big plane with so much weight, can make it airborne is a sight worth seeing. She circled around with her chase plane close to her side as they looped over the NASA logo on the roof of Hanger 4801... I stood there quietly knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, with clarity of thought, thinking to myself..."Dreams are obtainable, Passions are fuel, and Advances are still yet to be made." I am the luckiest woman on earth. I have found the love, inspiration, and passion, of my life... we call it NASA Dryden.

LDS Adult Prom

2009-05-26T09:59:00.000-07:00

I went to the 2009 LDS Adult Prom with my good friends Donnie and Sandra Hewes. The night was beautiful, and the hall was decorated to the hilt. Donnie and Sandra were as adorable as ever, and I was the token single person there. BUT the dinner was wonderful and I did get to dance twice.. once with my soon to be ex brother in law, Sir Jeremeh Job, and of course Donnie. It was great seeing the loving happy couples enjoying themselves together. It gave me hope that maybe... just maybe it could happen. Until then it is a delight to have great friends like the Hewes's and the Van Gorter's to take me under their wing and make sure that I continue to participate in the opportunities that life as a single woman still holds. I had a good time, and it was fun getting ready for. I do miss that part of married life... date night. :)

Quad Riding in Boy Heaven...

2009-05-25T15:26:00.000-07:00

The boys and I got to go camping with some really great friends, family, and the local Desert Search and Rescue team for the Memorial Day weekend. It was a total blast! We had 3 big camping trailers, great food, awesome company, and tons of quads at our site. We went to a little place called Dove Springs. It is located north of Mojave, just north of Red Rock State Park, about where the Mojave Desert reaches the Sierra Nevada's. It has 5,000 acres of trails to explore I am told. (OK, So maybe it is not soooo little.) Personally we came out the back of Naralia in California City until we connected with the 14 and turned Right for 7 miles, the sign is on the left hand side for Dove Springs. It really is not hard to navigate. If I can find it without assistance anyone can. The main road has many ruts running across it and its edges are sandy, but my PT Cruiser had no problem with it so someone with a truck should not even blink an eye. The road is easily wide enough for two-way traffic. Taking it slow on the road is a very good idea because many riders use this road to access camps and other places of interest. (Which I learned that when they "wave" they are actually showing you a number on their hand which tells you how many people are following behind them in their group) Dove Springs has lots of Joshua trees, sandy ground, hills, and several breath taking lookout places. This area caters to hill climbers, jumpers, and explorers of all ages and levels of experience. The left side all the way down in the bowl has “The Wall,” which is the crazy testosterone filled competition hill. It is fun to watch people play on the hill, but even with experience there were three separate medivac accidents this weekend alone there... not a place for sissies... or me for that matter. There are several lines running up to the top of the wall, including some angled paths at its northwest end. Prior to the bowl all the way down the main road are some longer lower climbs with harder ground, for people like me who are not really into being air lifted to hospitals. There is however, plenty of vegetation to make for great scenery everywhere in the park. This riding area is very large. You can see the dark El Paso Mountains to the northeast, Red Rock Canyon State Park to the east and southeast, the California City buttes to the south, the San Gabriel Mountains on the southern horizon, and the Sierra Nevada's to the west. Walking in the mornings or at sunset really offers some truly picturesque views. Campsites are primitive to say the least, as there are no established campsites and absolutely no running water anywhere to be had. Camping is open in any open turnout, with respect to vegetation of course. The entire area is open to day use or overnight use. There are two latrine bathrooms in the bowl with (again) no running water, and limited toilet paper. (So hike in your own) Fortunately, we had several toy haulers with full bathrooms for the women and the little kids who were not old enough to ride the quads to the latrines. But if that is not an option for you you might want to set up camp in the bowl, there is plenty of spots for it. There are no fees; no reservations accepted (first come-first served). The biggest thing to remember is having your "Green Sticker" OHV registration is mandatory for ALL vehicles which are not "street legal".Vehicles must have legal headlights and taillights if they are used at night. And trust me they were checking. The boys had a blast. Watching Colton get squirmy on the quads made me both happy, and uneasy all at the same time. I have always said this is boy mecca out here, but you should see some of these girls... I would not mess with them for sure! We had one woman in our group who broke her leg, but still walked on it, showered, visited and 18 hrs later went to Pinecrest Hospital to get X-Rays before finding out yep, she snaped it... a clean break. All I can say is they grow them tough out here, and this is no place for a princess...but man, did I have fun! The shuttle even came in when we were out there, and for a millisecond I felt bad I was not at a staging area watching my baby come in, or sitting down at Domingo's stalking the astronauts. :) I guess they lucked out this time. The space princess was playing Tom Boy, and soaking up watching her boys having the time of their lives... out in the dunes. Going on trial rides into Last Chance Canyon with the real men, and women of this great desert, getting dirty, and playing hard. I had the time of my life. Here is to good friends, and good times. I hope to be invited back sometime because that was just way too much fun.

Colton has a girlfriend...are you kidding me?

2009-05-20T19:23:00.000-07:00

Colton, my Marine Corps dreaming baby boy... is dating. I am sooooooooooo not ready for this. I mean who am I to guide this young man on this journey? I have yet to figure out the complexities of it. I do not know how to adequately steer him in the least bit. I am profoundly unqualified, and yet it is my god given job, duty, and right. How does one teach your child to protect themselves. Make concrete decisions for their lives and stick with them. How to not let the opposite sex steal your life goals, and inner most dreams, intentionally or not. And how does one convey that it can and does happen every single day. I am fearful for him. Dating sucks, and he is too young to even realize that yet. I have a friend who repeatedly asks me "What does Dez want?" What do I want? This has been, in the past, hard for me to answer, but in the light of my son at the same crossroads, I know what I want for him... Thus, I am better equipt to answer it for myself. What I want for me is the same thing that I want for Colton. I want someone we can talk to for hours, someone who challenges us, and makes us want to be better people then we already are. Someone who inspires us, and we can look up too morally and righteously, and yet is our equal everyday of our lives. Someone who is intelligent and makes us think, and yet is fun to engage with, someone we can be silly and goofy around without threat of being thought less of. Someone who makes us chuckle, as well as belly laugh, and yet still brings a sense of peace into our lives, and our hearts, when we are around them. Someone we can share all of life's experiences, adventures, day trips, and mundane routine life with. I want us to have a best friend who cherishes us for the depth of character each of us have, not the shells we allow most to see. I want us to find someone worthy of our hearts. Someone that we would be willing to give up the world for, and yet having them never allows us to do so. I want someone who protects us from ourselves, and sees the aura of our potential and worth, and guides us there. Someone we do not have to walk in front of to bring them up, or that we have to walk behind to push along the journey. I want for us a partner in life who can walk beside us... hold our hands, and are as blessed to have us in their lives as we are to have them in our own. And yet armed with all of this self introspective knowledge all I can say is "I am not ready for this"... How can I show him, when I have never seen it come to fruition myself? How do I convey that the quest for the ideal is truly obtainable. That settling is not an option. How do I teach a child with genes that came from my own stock that there is a process and that the right road is not always the easy road... especially when it comes to dating. Sometimes I feel like I can handle the job of parenting, and others, like now,... I just wish there was a manual. Or at least that I had a couple more years of experience behind me in order to properly address this issue. I need an easy button. If not for me, for Cole. I love that kid, and I just want him to have so much more then I have... in love, in life, in self worth, in success, in education. I want his road to be easier then mine, one fought with less pit falls, and uneven ground. I want to give him the cliff notes version of love and dating, so that he can navigate the path better then I have. And yet, here I sit, as a helpless spectator looking into a fish bowl...Powerless. I guess this is where our journey begins to part. Where one learns to become the coveted friend, and one hopes and prays that the child knows the door is always open, and that they can come to you when they need you... and less the dictatorship parent, forcing ones hand to make things happen "Because I said so". Where guiding becomes an art, and the relationship becomes a dance. Where the choices he makes today are based on the values that I have instilled in him prior. I just hope, more then anything, that I have not let him down. I trust him to make better choices then I have... I just hope that he does.

Mother's Day...

2009-05-10T21:26:00.000-07:00

Well, I looked through the closet. But to no avail, I must have sent out my super suit to the cleaners and forgot to go pick it up. Found some dresses I forgot I had, and even a old pair of boots... but no suit.

Today was great, I got to go to church, pay some bills, do some yard work, and go for my walk. I even got a bit of a sunburn. The boys made me cards. George's had poetry and a lucky fox origami creature. As well as a beautiful purple flower to plant in my garden. Dustin's had a smelly ladybug for my linen closet and a letter singing my praises. They were very nice. I even managed to sleep in till 0900, which is a miracle all in itself.

C- Dog was sick, and his present to me was not sharing it. He slept most of the day, which was difficult I am sure with the high temps.

Well, I hope everyone had a wonderful Mother's Day. .. I know at least for me, my mother gets the least credit and deserves the most respect. I hope you were thought of today and were made to feel as special as you truly are. WAY TO GO MOM's!!!! YOU ROCK!!!!

Jason Vons @ The Bakersfield Rodeo!

2009-05-03T09:53:00.000-07:00

Some of my dearest friends in all of the world decided it would be a good idea to take me out to the Rodeo in Bakersfield, Ca. Me, the space princess...to the rodeo. I LOVE country music, and enjoy dancing to it even more... but going to the rodeo was lifetime ago, back when I was cute and adorable, when I was loud and full of energy, low on common sense and high on adrenaline! Man, those were the days! Rowdy Dezilou was going back to the scene of the crime, and this time with witnesses... oh my! Of course life has changed me, and with it the rodeo experience too. This night was perfect. We arrived early, got a good parking place, and made our way to the booths in front of the stands. The smell of funnel cakes, fresh roasted corn on the cob, cold beer and steak sauce permeated every square inch of rustic arena space.

Sandra decided to try on cowboy hats, with the disclaimer that she doesn't look good in them resonating from her lips, as men passing by were looking on with one raised eyebrow, thinking "Hell yes you do!" written all over their faces. It made me chuckle to watch the gentle coaxing of her husband, and long time boyfriend, Donnie trying to get her to model them for him. How they delight in one another, makes me smile. Sandra and I checked out jewelry (it is a girl thing!), and made our way to the clothing booths. Sandra and I decided to buy new shirts since the ones we were wearing were too big for us. (by a whole size or two!) She picked out a cute little teal number with pink highlights, and of course she picked out the perfect pink one for me too.

Without thinking, teasingly, I leaned into Donnie, and asked him if he thought I could get that one to go. Leaning back peering through the crowd, eyes affixed on a tall good looking man in the corner. He was the most attractive pretty boy, God has graced the rodeo circuit with in decades... JASON VONS. Donnie caught my gaze, and smiled. His eyes lite up, and within a flash he is gone!!! I am left dying,embarrassed, melting in a pool of why me introspection. (Remind me not to make innuendos to men that love me like their daughter, have no shame in embarrassing me to all hell, and would love nothing else then to see me eternally happy.) In a blink of an eye, and a cloud of dust, Donnie was G-O-N-E...GONE..LONG GONE!!! Square stepped and bee lined to the Army booth, assuredly to hit up the honorable men in green for a picture of their spokesman, front man, recruiter extraordinaire, and pretty boy, Jason Vons with me. He sets up the whole scene with them sharing the sorted details of my divorce...nice. Strangers knowing my loser status, in order to procure a photo with the interest of my desires. But none the less it works, without any reservations his buddies send him down the river... sure he will do it, gladly, anytime man. Donnie is beaming, bouncing on the air currents, proud of his acquisition. He has secured a coveted photo op. Of course I am doing my best to avoid eye contact with him as much as possible, and it is of no use... if anyone knows Donnie, when Donnie wants to be heard, there aren't many who don't notice him.

Donnie is going to make sure I have a great time at this rodeo or he is going to kill me. He breaks the news. He is so proud of himself, and what the heck... like who is Vons anyway? I mean, some self serving wonder god who is in love with himself and his sport of choice no doubt! What does it matter, in the scheme of things, it is one picture...why not, I am game.

After some time (for me to get up my nerve), we meander our way through the crowd for the coveted 30 seconds of shame. Sandra in tow, getting a quick in service on how to use my camera, and we are off. Donnie hits the gates running and introduces himself to Vons. Asking him if his buddies have enlightened him to what they have signed him up for? Yeah no. Not so much... Donnie quickly explains asks if he might pose with me for a photo. And in flash of a second, any rodeo man, or NASCAR nut would truly appreciate, he fires off with HELLLL YA! Let me stop the clock for just a second here, Here I am standing there mortified he does not know, and I am panicky, wanting to leave, exit stage right, fly the coop. And Donnie asks... and he fires back HELLLL YA! He could have said sure, or he could have said no problem, could have even said why not... but he didn't! He said HELLLL YA!

Let me tell you, for a woman going through a divorce, trying every single second of every single moment to stay afloat... there was nothing he could have given me more rewarding then that Milli moment gut reaction in time.

I mean, I don't want a pretty boy to have and to keep for my own, someone you have to feel insecure about who is taking him one from you, I just like watching them, taking note of them... and it is nice...nice beyond measure to know that they took note of me too.

I got my photo and tried to run away, but he introduced himself to Donnie and myself. I shook his hand, made small talk and he asked me my name twice before I actually gave it to him. It was great, and about all that I could handle at this stage of the game for me. We ended up going back to our seats and cheering on the boys from Oakdale,CA- Modesto,CA and Fallon, NV...and of course, Jason Vons. The night was cool, and the rich warm smell of dirt, men and animals wafted through the air. It was perfect rodeo weather. We watched the girls with amazing hair (in envy), and the even more spectacular horses, brave bronc riders, quick as lightning calf ropers, and insaine bull riders all do their thing. Even Vons rode, and impressively placed 3rd, even walked away with a little cash. I guess we both had a really good night. Next year; I am going to buy another shirt since this pink one is going to be too big by then, I am going to eat my very first funnel cake ever...(Strawberry I think), I am coming for both days, and I am sooooooooo staying for the dance... Who knows, maybe by then I will no longer be broken, and I might actually find that one cowboy who challenges me mentally, and loves to dance.... It could happen. Until then; Good Luck Jason Vons...nice ride!

Vortex of Chaos...

2009-04-23T09:34:00.000-07:00

Absolute Chaos! I apparently stepped into an alternate reality and well, here I stand in a vortex of chaos. The spiral of intrinsic forces beyond my limited control. I am a slalom skier traveling at a neck breaking pace down a very slippery slope, dodging one trial pole after another in rapid succession, only to be met with yet another one within millimeters of my face. Problem is, I never learned to ski, let alone have a practice run!

I won't get into the long drawn out hows and whys of it all, as I am trying desperately to conquer and progress past each posing threat as quickly as possible, and then forgetting it. Plus, who wants to hash out the depressing parts of life? Everyone carries a burden. Mine right now are multiple and minuscule. Which is preferred to; few and back breaking. It is the vast number that is taking my breath away is all.

You know the quote: "Life isn't measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away" " I am not sure, but I speculate this is not what they meant by it because this is ridiculous! I mean either you laugh or you cry. Well I have laughed, cracked up even, now I am about to cry.

I just want the world to stop just for a moment... let me step off, and relax. I mean I work at NASA for peat's sake shouldn't I have some kind of a connection for this kind of a request? A space walk maybe? A well needed breath of fresh air? A moment to gather my thoughts and regain the footing that I have apparently lost? I feel as if I am walking on marbles. While this is great for my thighs it is deadly for the rest of my well being.

Am I the only one out here that desires peace and quiet, and a stillness of the spirit? I mean so many of us are in need of it and so few of us posses it. I seek the scriptures and yet I feel like I am left alone to see how I will handle the burden, and yet I don't know if I am failing miserably or not. Just that the vortex is not going away, just that the intensity ebbs between unbearable and well simply chaos personified.

This too shall pass is my sol ice and well I am running out of positive propaganda to fuel my soul. I am in desperate need of sleep, and am seriously thinking about taking something to knock me out tonight so I can. However, for now... I have to figure out a miracle, wrack my brain for a solution... and find an angel of mercy. Anyone got a spare one laying around????

Moving Rant...

2009-04-17T09:39:00.000-07:00

Well it is official! We have financially recovered from my last big leap into the abyss we call love, and we are back to living the good life. Doing my best to retain my title of self rescuing princess... which has not been easy this past week. It seemed like if only for a moment that a rift happened within my solar system and I was sucked into a chaotic world of one issue after another. Dustin was ill (hence the blog), My beloved, reliable, 2004, fully paid off, inferno red PT Cruiser broke a timing belt, and while in for repairs needed a new water pump and another belt needed to be replaced. Then my sweet, precious canine daughter Lucy Lu Who decided if the boys get to go to school so should she. Which of course sent the boys into a frantic tizzy over whether or not the school was going to send her to the pound. I torked off some people for being little Ms. Independent and not being willing to ask for help even when they perceive I need it. (When I know I can take care of myself, the kids, the car, and no matter what ever mountain comes my way. So why ask!?! That is what savings accounts and good insurance is for, which I ensure are done deals! - OK, so that makes me stubborn, and maybe closed off, but no where does that make me foolish.) Well the twilight zone moments seem to be ebbing to an end, as well as the tension level that came with it. Now, I am finally able to make the leap with the boys to our new house in North Edwards. It is a bit closer to the base (9miles), my dearest friends live across the street, and the best part is that there is plenty of room for all of us!!! 5 bedrooms, 2 baths, a 4 car garage! I love it!!! There is a family room and a living room, and the family room even has a wood burning stove in it! Colton wants to make the garage into a skating rink, which I love!!! The backyard has a covered patio for relaxing on the porch swing, and it is just remarkable. It is the first time that we all will have our own rooms. No more room mates!!! I still have a den all to myself too, so in essence I get two rooms!! Whoooo Hoooo, it is good to be Mom!! Not only that, but my work horse - Colton, who single handedly moved us into the current place is gone camping this weekend. So, with the help of my friends and neighbors we are moving everything, even the Tee Pee in the backyard so when Colton comes back we will be set up in the new place. I even got him Internet access for his bedroom! I am especially happy about this because I know how much Colton hates moving. He thinks we are moving next weekend. I LOVE IT!! It feels good to know that I can provide a nice stable environment for my kids on my own. I love my job, I love my kids, and I love this house. LIFE IS GOOD!!!! Now to unpack... anyone want to help?

Air Show Schedule for 2009...

2009-04-14T07:42:00.000-07:00

Just a quick update on some dates of interest. (At least for me)

***May 25th, 2009 - Open Cock Pit Day at Castle AF Museum in Atwater, CA***

*May 16th, 2009 - Tribute to Our Armed Forced Day at Modesto Airport in Modesto, CA*

*May 29th -31st, 2009 Madera Air Show in Madera, CA*

**September 14th-20th, 2009 Reno Air Races, Reno, NV**

****October 2nd- 4th, 2009 Miramar Marine Corps Air Station Air Show near San Diego****

**October 10th & 11th, 2009 Fleet Week in San Francisco Bay on Pier 39**

***October 17th & 18th, 2009 Edwards AFB Air Show in Edwards, CA***

**November 14th &15th, 2009 Nellis AFB Air Show in Las Vegas, CA**

Miramar is Colton and I's Favorite Air Show, so that is a definite. Then of course Edwards AFB is having their first show in a couple of years and I would not miss that for the world so that is a high ranking second place. Then comes SF and Fleet Week at third place. Fourth Place goes to the Reno Air Races, I have never been, but I am dying to go!!!! Fifth Place goes to Castle AF Museum's Open Cock Pit Day, which I can't miss due to the nostalgia and memories connected to that place. Sixth Place goes to Nellis AFB Air Show. Seventh Place to Modesto Airports Tribute to our Armed Forces. It is a small air show, but they have some great planes that show up, and the people there are the very best. Great for history at its finest!!! And last, but definitely not least on my list is Madera's Air Show. We are going to be BUSY!!!! Oh, I can't wait!!! Can you say ROAD TRIP???????

Go NASA!

2009-04-07T08:04:00.000-07:00

The quest for my existence, has brought me to this extraordinary place. A little girl, all grown up, full of excitement, wonderment, and grace. I know that I am blessed by God, my heavenly father above, Encircled in his strong, steadfast, and unmovable love, And yet I am scared this ride of his might somehow come to an end. I am fortunate to know these people and have them call me a friend. How can one ever hope to find an avenue for this wondrous gift to repay? The way we walk in such honorable footsteps of those that came before this day? To watch the crews of such amazing collaborations like Global Hawk,IKHANA, or the X-48B train? I sneak a look into each hanger, inspired, and awed by each, and every new unfolding plane. This peaceful desert landscape pierced only by the majestic beauty of the suns first morning ray. The expanse of 44 square flat precious miles, the worlds largest dry lake bed clay, The place where the shuttles and crew’s come here to kiss the ground, and play. The biggest little “sonic” boom town of the world, set before me this very day. Restricted Air Space R-2508 with winds that are warm and fierce most days of the year. The Motto from every pilot, every mechanic, and every single engineer …No Fear. I am a NASA enthusiast, lucky to be among these brilliant minds. No one on this great planet could imagine their next up and coming finds. I drive in to my job each day marked by the beautiful darkened angel SR-71. Who would have ever dreamed that this woman would have such immeasurable fun? Dryden’s Flight Research Center engulfed in California’s summer heat and sun! I love these hallowed walls, the history, the legacy of NASA a ton. No Lottery Ticket could buy this, No purchase request is this big, No, nothing could ever compare to seeing the Mate de Mate rig. To walk on air, around the Shuttle, to dance effortlessly upon the sand, To feel the wind 3 stories up, and holding back the touch of Endeavour from my hand! This is my playground of dreams, possibilities unfolding, and earthly treasures oh so very dear. The bubble within the bubble, the technology that guides our futures by what we make here. NASA is a bright and brilliant lantern of success, and prolific inspiration. It comes from each and every one of us, and our open lines of communication. With rocket science, space adventures, and new found technology on the winning side. Can’t you feel the rising of the next big global NASA’s energy tide? It is our contributions to the planet earth family that we are honored by, This is our time to show our passions, to stretch our wings, and fly!

Tears from a Broken Heart...Dustin is Sick Again.

2009-04-06T10:46:00.000-07:00

Dustin is ill again, his airway is swollen, his breathing labored. We have sat in yet another ER, at yet another hospital, waiting on yet another Respiratory Therapist, to receive yet another breathing treatment that does not work. No Albuterol, No Epinephrine. No one knows how to diagnosis the anomaly I call Dustin Joseph. He is my baby, my precious sunshine, my bottled nitro. No one can tell me what is wrong with him; no one can fix him when he is broken. All I can do is sit back and wonder, wait, and watch. Watch for him to become more and more ill until he lands himself in yet another cold, white, sterile, and uncomfortable hospital bed. Or by the grace of God, pull himself out of it. He has been healthy for over a year now. My guard was down; I began to believe he was a normal child. Unless one lives it, it is hard to fathom, why anyone would pray each day, to not have to live in fear of losing a child. To know first hand how the blessing of bearing a child could potentially become a heart searing scar. How the a child should never sound like Darth Vader with each inhaled breath. And yet, I did not realize I was not the only one living in fear. Dustin and I took off to the hospital early one morning this week, and by afternoon George still had not had an update. In fear he called me, crying, asking if Dustin was dying. I assured him, he was OK, but until he heard his voice, and could talk directly to his brother he could not be consoled. We are broken; in heart, and in spirit… all of us. As if the whole world shifts off of it’s axis when little man can not breathe. Logically my mind assures me I am over reacting, and this is not like times before, that Dusty Joe will not get Air Ambulanced to a children’s hospital, that he will not turn blue, or be put on life support. Logically I know he is going to be OK, and yet within the very fiber of my psyche I am a quivering child alone in a darkened corner of a haunted house separated from the loving arms of my parents. I am no longer a parent in control, but am reduced to a humble, wooden, fishing boat tossed out in a torrential storming sea, a product of the bleak and dismal situation, in search of a lighthouse, a master light keeper, and a safe, welcoming harbor. Lost on a private mental plain, a mystical place where logic and emotion battle. Walking through life alone in a sea of familiar faces, holding tight onto an iron rod within a private hell no one could possibly understand. I do not sleep well when his breathing is labored. He sleeps within arms length of me, a veil of light sleep blankets both of us. For Dusty it is to stay assured I am always there at his side, and for me it is to audibly always hear his shallow breathes. And if he pauses, if only for a moment longer then I am use to I am wide wake, with full dilation of my pupils so that I may visually see the rise and fall of his chest, to look for retraction of his tummy, to see if his tiny nose is flaring out. Even in the darkest absence of light, I can see him as a hawk views it prey. My sight is sharp and keen, and my focus is him. And if he is OK, I drift back into that ever so light veil of rest. Always prayerful for that elusive sleep, only to be granted it, and visited by hellish nightmares. Ones so fearful that I do not even dare utter their visions, for fear of bringing to truth their horrible premonitions. I hate living in fear. For all the blessings of this life, of all the wonders and heights and possibilities held with in life’s corridors of personal passion… None are worth trading the life of a child you have been gifted to raise. I would hand over my house in a heartbeat, my car, even my career. Within the blink of an eye, without a single moment of hesitation, I would walk away from everything to ensure Dustin would remain healthy. There was talk years ago of surgically cutting open his tracheal rings, placing a hole within his throat (a tracheotomy) , and letting him heal for 2 to 3 years before closing it back up. I have long since thought of that possibility, especially at times like these. My healthy, outgoing, seemingly perfect child, turned into a home schooled little boy, in a no longer merely perceived, but rather a very real protective bubble. The thought of having to suction him out, and keep it clean with constant dressing changes, and how the routine, mundane tasks of life, within an instant become complicated. Where would Superman be then, when you needed him most? I stand at the edge of my mental ocean, watching a sunset no others can see. Lost in the realization that I am his only super hero, and my cape has been misplaced. Realizing, that the faith of this one precious child is all the super human strength that I need to pick myself up and carry on. If he believes I can keep him safe, then I can. I am strong because he gives me strength. I am full of faith that this is our right path, a journey hand selected for Dustin and myself. I pray to have the wisdom to balance his needs effectively. To live up to the title of self rescuing space princess, if only for my son. To be able to make him suck it up and drive on enough to raise him into a man, and yet protective enough to fight with a strong enough back bone to tell healthcare professionals when to shove it to get the health care that he needs, when he needs it in order to get him there. While others immerse themselves in their educations, in there degrees, and levels of wisdom and understanding… we balance our lives on health. We cherish simple pleasures of bike rides at dusk, of quiet walks in the desert, of flowers in bloom, and of hosting good friends over for dinner. I breathe in colors, see depth of character, feel sounds, and envision smells. To some it makes me a dreamer, childlike, and immature. And yet, I choose to take on the challenge of being different, meet it head on, and not waste time looking for a life raft from life’s trials, when I know I can build a better more secure one myself. I plan for my future, and make provisions for the tsunami’s that I know are out there just beyond the horizon of my vision. I must be financially sound and secure for the day Dustin is not well. This is not a want, or a desire, it is a need on the lowest rung of my own personally tailored Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs Scale. Scott (my latest ex-husband) never understood my need to be debt free, in fact he resented it. But it is this foundation of fear in which my life pivots upon. Embrace the positive; pull each opportunity close to you. Let the flow of energy replenish you because you never know when life’s ebbs and flows will begin to deplete you. I know why a friend of mine races his motorcycle at Willow Spring’s Raceway. At 51 years old, he lets his passions fuel him. Racing is his moment of balance. It is why the simple pleasures are worth the very most. To me, my simplest of pleasure, it is one’s mind and one’s time. Sharing your most valuable possessions…yourself, and your time with someone, is the world’s most sacred gift. Being Dustin’s mother in times of respiratory distress kills me, and drains my very soul, but being his mother everyday of his life fulfills me beyond a measure that can never be truly depleted. I am a stronger person for having the blessing of getting to raise each of my sons. I am only who I am because of them. They do not define me, and yet they greatly enrich me. I am the flower, and they are my roots that bind me to this life. Without them I would never flourish, for they grant me the avenue of sustenance with which I survive. We all have a story, pieces of a puzzle that make up a unique and precious life. Mine is just as complicated as yours, it is no more special, or tragic. I am who and what I am, I am just me. When I am weak, I am broken and shattered, and when I am strong, I can deal with anything, and take on the world. Get Well My Precious Son…I love you, Mom.

F-18 Simulator @ NASA Dryden’s Flight Research Center

2009-03-31T06:49:00.000-07:00

The walk from Building 4838 to Simulator Alley was quiet, and calm. A beautiful day in the desert, the sun’s tender rays warming the lakebed to a delightful 76 degrees, with a whispering light breeze rustling the leaves in the trees, gently kissing you with welcomed coolness. It was a perfect day for an adventure. The group accompanying me was quiet, reserved, together, and well mannered. I, on the other hand, felt like I was jumping out of my skin. I find it hard to believe, even now, that these other people were not just as excited about the upcoming event, but I was the only one childlike enough in my exuberation to feel the sheer joy that shakes you from within, and makes children run in circles around trees in parking lots waiting for Disneyland to finally open. I truly get to work at my Disneyland Park, and this was my opening hour, and my ticket was at hand. I was going to go play on the F-18 Simulator at NASA Dryden’s Flight Research Center. A long a waited moment of sheer boundless joy. My boys have been, so have some of my friends, but I had not, until now, had the pleasure of going. This is not something you sign up for, it is a “by extended invitation” only event. And the person extending the invitation has to be one with connections. Me, I have no connections, I am the lowest (wo)man on the totem pole of Dryden, and I am thrilled to be on it at all. I know I have told you the people I work for are brilliant, but today was just another piece to the puzzle of just how great they really are. In a trivial information turn of events, I found that most of the big dogs in the IT God Forum have come from Simulator Alley. In fact most of them built it themselves. Yes, I said built it! To fully appreciate this marvel one should really experience it themselves due to the simple fact that there really is no words that can adequately capture it with justice. However, for the sake of simplicity let me just say, the F-18 Sim has a half circle wrap around full view screen. It contains an in depth view of Rodger’s Dry Lakebed, the spaceport, runways, Boron, and even the mine. It is beyond amazing. I had Ken at my side coaching me all the way. He increased speeds, and lowered landing gear, while I tried to fly. All I can say is, it is so much harder then it looks, and it really showed me first hand how much skill and training these pilots really have. The coolest part is that these simulators can really be hooked up to the F-18 down stairs in the hanger. There is a large window that allows you to be in the simulator room and still be able to view the actual F-18 below. When the pilot rolls one way, or moves to another side, the actual plane moves so that the engineers can see first hand how the plane will react BEFORE they send one of our pilots up. The simulators are not just million dollar toys, they are huge educational learning centers, as well as invaluable safety nets. This week we (The Edwards AFB Community) lost a pilot, not from NASA, but from the Air Force side, a Lockheed Martin test pilot in an F-22 raptor. A tragic loss of a gifted and skilled, dedicated, pilot. What these precision trained pilots do with the technology that is out here is truly inspirational. They risk their lives so that we, as a nation, have better, more functional air systems at the ready for so much more then just military applications. In fact technology being tested today for ACAT may have saved the pilot we just lost, by landing the plane safely when the pilot was unconscious or worse, unable to control the plane prior to crashing. It is the entire elite team we call Dryden that is the vast melting pot I call unsung heros. The Engineers who think beyond the possible, the test pilots who make the missions come off without a hitch, even the IT Gods that make solutions that will work with problems not even thought of yet. All to stay atop of a game no one knows were it will lead, that is the amazing mushroom cloud of Dryden. It is the marvel of the machines, the technological advances, the people, the passion, and the path of uncharted mysteries. I got to fly a real piece of Americana history today and I truly loved it! How very grateful I am for the blessings of this place, of these people, and of this time I get to be a part of it. I am living my own American dream.

Pi Day with the NASA I.T. Gods!!!

2009-03-18T11:16:00.000-07:00

I knew this entry was coming, and have put so much more thought into it then any before it. I have pondered at length what exactly I wished to convey, any yet it all seems so inadequate. A description which at best is corny, and at worst is down right silly. How on earth could one possibly understand this eccentric woman’s passion which permeates from the sheer glee of scheming, plotting, and executing a totally geeky celebration such as Pi Day? I went under the guise of better to ask forgiveness then to ask permission. I work at the greatest organization in all of the United States of America… within a department of the most brilliant minds, hardest workers, and truly talented individuals, for a Chief Information Officer, and a Deputy CIO that I really admire, like, and respect. And here is the best part, they don’t know their own value!!! In fact for so long I have been alone in my bizarre fascination with the weird techy, nerdy, totally out of the box, brain boys playground, that I began to see myself as unique, and strange. And while this still may be true to some extent, I have found others out there just like me, and I am finally home. Rob literally has a binary welcome mat in front of his door, and obsolete original hand held calculators with the magnetic memory strips in his display cabinets in his office. I love it here, finally I look mild mannered. Living in Boron who could help resist wanting a shower curtain with the periodic table on it? Or cubicle toys such as floating magnetized pens for the desk? I am telling you, if anyone understands me, it is this group of people I work with now.

It all began innocently enough… Rob meanders up to the counter and says “Hey, you know Pi day is coming up. You know Pi, as in 3.14…., Well, March 14th is coming up. We should celebrate with a real pie.” We all laugh, and everyone walks away. But a wheel is turning, a circuit fully connected as if by the flicking of a switch….hummmm Pi day. I bet I could make that happen. This is when the treasure hunt began. It started simple enough… making a simple banner off the computer. My mother is known to many affectionately as the Pie Lady. Of course, I am no Pie Lady, but I mean, if anyone could pull off Pi day it should be the Pie Ladies daughter. Initially I thought of selling out and getting Marie Calendar’s to make a bunch of pies, but since I live in the middle of the Mojave Desert and Marie’s is over an hr away, I took it upon myself to create them myself. I mean, if my mother could make a zillion pies for Thanksgiving each year why couldn’t I do a much smaller scale for my co-workers? Then it became apparent… I am so not my mother. This pie buffet is tougher then this woman has EVER made it look before. So how, am I going to pull this off? I mean what am I thinking? Do I really think I could fill my mother’s shoes? Uh No! So it occurs to me, as Hitch so eloquently taught me, stick to what you are good at. If you are the Pie Lady do pies, if you are me, you go mass cookie production. But how on earth does one make a Pie Cookie, let alone a Pi cookie? Thank Goodness for the World Wide Web… I hit online on a Pi Cookie cutter, oh it is too easy!!! This is going to be soooooo good! The excitement is building; I am giddy with my find. The days prior to its arrival were like a kid waiting at Christmas to open the presents until AFTER breakfast. While the childlike anticipation grew with each moment, floods of ideas came… what if I made us shirts? Would Rob or Ken even wear them if I did? And if I did, and they agreed to wear them what would I say? Memories wash over me of my son, Colton, now 14 years old, but then no more then 6 years old standing in front of me listening to some horrible lecture, in serious trouble, and out of no where he looks me in the eye and says “I like pie.” It dawned on me that to this little tyke I was nothing more then a Charlie Brown adult, and all he was hearing was wa wa,wa wa, wa wa. And I lost it, I began crying with laughter so fierce that is brings tears of joy to my eyes with just the memory. THAT is what I was going to put on the shirts. I like Pi. I created the designs, and took them to a shop to get them done… with one slight modification. My shirt, the space princess herself, in all her glory put Cutie Pi on her shirt. In retrospect I wish I would have put QT Pi, but hey it worked.

Then like so many of us the week went to heck in a hand basket. Rob had the day off so he wasn’t even going to be able to come. Friends were on travel assignments and missing, old boyfriends showed up in town doing drive bys, the church asked me to make lasagna for their relief society birthday dinner. There were just not enough hours in any day to make this come to fruition. And yet, faith precedes the miracle. I knew I could do this, I just did not know how. Friends, Family, and community came together to orchestrate the neatest turn of events for MY Pi Day. The cookie dough batter was made on one day… 6 batches of sugar cookie dough. The next day 200+ Pi Shaped cookies were baked and cooled on my kitchen counter. (Kudos to Mrs. Claus, and her manly man elf!) The next day 6 pies were baked, including my favorite of all time… a cherry one with the Pi Symbol out of the top. Mmmmmmmmmmmm Tons of soda flat boxes were taped and stacked on end to be filled with decorated cookies for transport. The house smelt heavenly, I finally understand those infamous words “slept with the vision of sugar plums danced in their heads”, for as I put my head to my pillow that Pi Day Eve Night, I was excited, and giddy, and full of childhood delight.

Arriving that morning with a smirk, and a smile at the back of Code V the guys were walking in as I pulled up my PT (Cruiser that is). As I opened the door the smell wafted through the air. It stopped one, curious. I began taking flats of goodies to my desk, and the choir rang out,” Do you need some help?”. Several big old IT Gods helped me bring in the goods. People were shocked, excited and happy. For the first time I got to see, first hand, my enthusiasm flow from me to them, passing forward my exuberance. It was contagious. Who would have known? The cost for supplies…$30 tops, The cost of labor… happiness and love. The cost of finally feeling like I am at home? Having Pi Day at NASA??? Eating Pi Shaped Cookies with REAL I.T. Gods? Some people go to Disneyland for magical memories and pixy dust, but to me… this was Absolutely PRICELESS!!! ***Now if ONLY I could write the word priceless in binary code!!! :) ***

Fly Away With Me...

2009-02-06T07:57:00.000-08:00

I always knew that someday I would soar. I got to go on my first real plane ride. I was taken by a gentleman from my church, Mr. Swann, who has instilled a love of flying in his whole family. His children all are pilots too. As for me it was awesome and inspirational, but when offered to fly the plane, I respectfully declined. While the ride was exhilarating, I still had the sense of responsibility to my children not to leave them motherless. Mark was able to do some sharp turns with me in the plane and that was the very best! The clouds were so majestic from so high in the sky, and the whole world looked so peaceful and well designed from up there. It struck me while flying that it was the same feeling of awe that I would have years ago sitting on top of Sonora Peak, or some other wonderful spot high up in the Sierra's, but without all of the effort to hike there. I miss those days, and being in the sky if only for a moment in time brought me back there. Back to a place where the world makes sense, and you are rightfully placed within it. Where the beauty of man made and God made come harmoniously together. I wish I could fly away to nowhere when ever I felt like it. The burdens of life left on the ground far below. The journey took me over the windmills (which I have always loved to watch), over Red Rock Canyon, over vacationing quad campers in the desert, over California City, over mountain ranges, and over the Mojave Airport's bone yard, as well as getting to make an early morning touch down at the far end of Lake Isabella. It was wonderful! We had breakfast in a quaint little diner that looked more like some one's living room in an old log cabin, then a real restaurant. It was by far the very best breakfast I have ever eaten. I am not sure if it was the wonderfully rich hot chocolate with whipped cream melting in the top of a common mug, the deliciously spicy Santa Fe omelet, or if it was the atmosphere, and the company that we got to share it with. All of these old pilots were sitting behind us talking shop in front of a wood stove drinking their coffee. It was beyond a dream, the sights, the smells. I felt like I was in my favorite movie "Always"! I half expected "Pete and Dyrinda" to walk in at any moment. Yet, with all of that it was fun to know that I still got to fly back home again, and the trip was not over by a long shot. Upon returning home I could look down on the lake and see men sitting in their boats fishing. I felt like the tanker in the opening scenes ready to scoop up water and fly it to a fire. The whole experience was like getting to meet yourself for the very first time. I really loved it. I love planes, always have, but this place, and this time in my life, has awaken a sleeping giant that I did not even know existed. Will I ever be a pilot someday? No one knows for certain, but what I do know is until then I am going to enjoy the ride. No matter if I am in a plane or not, I will continue to soar to new heights, and meet new challenges. I will continue to delight in going to air shows, seeing fly overs of F-18's, listening to sonic booms, and in the feeling of the rattle of your rib cage with the roar of their engines as they go over my head! I will continue to delight in the love of aviation itself. Today was a great day, but tomorrow is going to be even better! Come Fly Away With Me...

What the heck is Asperger's Syndrome?

2009-01-29T09:33:00.001-08:00

Well, if life were not interesting enough George is now being tested for Asperger's Syndrome. Asperger's Disorder is a milder variant of Autistic Disorder, also know as high functioning autistic. This is by far not a bad thing... Bill Gates has Asperger's. However, anyone who knows George knows he is just unique. He is eight years old, and collects Forbes magazines, and Wall Street Journal Newspapers. He reads them, and stacks them on his only shelf beside the top bunk of his bed. In fact when he sleeps you constantly hear him turn and the crumpling of papers. While this may not be normal, this is George. He is a critical thinker, and does not know what thinking in the box means. It is not uncommon to listen to him and think he is an old man trapped in a little body. He does not have any mannerisms, and speaks in a monotone which is hard for most to understand. He needs calm, quiet, cleanliness, and order to stay content. He strongly relys on his brother Dustin for interpretation skills and friendship. He has a very hard time socially, and is often the brunt of harassment and bullying. He does not like to make eye contact with anyone, and often plays by himself huddled in the front room playing with some minor thing repetitively...thinking. He has always guided himself by his own routines. He brushes his teeth, gets up, and goes to bed all without being told, and always at the same time... no matter if it is the weekend or what the case may be. He just disappears from family time and someone has to go check to see if he made it to bed, and as always he has. He is my hero, grounded, and not ruled by emotions. For so long, I being his mother, seemed so strange. I am an extrovert, who knows no stranger, ruled by emotions, and bubbly, and yet intlligent enough to know happiness comes from within, and not centered around a career, a degree, or a paycheck. George is grounded, centered, and focused. For so long I felt as if he loved me, but did not like me. I have come to realize that he loves me, but on his time table and only to the extent he allows me to. He likes to watch me, enjoys my silliness, and playfulness, but from a distance. He delights in my happiness, my crazy manaerisms, and my horrible singing funny songs from across the room. This is an 8 year dance we have learned together. A functional relationship of ebbs and flows. I have learned to give him his space and observe him from a far, and come in for a sneak attack hug or kiss on ocassions that are fitting him. George will be successful beyond measure. He is truly an amazing kid, smart as all get out in some areas, and dumber then a box of rocks in others. No matter what they find, no matter what the outcome is... he is George Lee Buerer III, he is my hero.

George's Drama

2009-01-21T14:18:00.001-08:00

Dealing with Drama. First let me start with saying Little George is doing really well. Now let me give you the rest of the story. In a freak random accident Georgie was attacked by a scooter and he has lost a bit of his right pinkie finger. The hand surgeon thinks he will heal all on his own and make a full recovery in about 8 weeks. He is even hopeful that his nail will make a full recovery as well. Now let me tell you the rest of the story... George was at school and the bell rang to let the kids out of school for the day. As we can all remember this ensues all sorts of children flooding in a mass exodus from the school flowing into the hallways. This is what George was swept up in... With this mayhem someone had left a scooter on the sidewalk and as George walked by caught the side of it with his foot. Thus the handle bars popped up and caught his finger and scraped the bone at the side of the top portion of the finger, ripped off the finger nail, and cut off the top fatty cushion part of the finger tip. The scooter did not have the protective hand guards on them that they come with. This all took about a Milli second, and he ran to the nurses station. Where the school secretary playing Nurse calls me at works and tells me my son's finger is missing. Of course I pack my things my co-workers scoop me up and we fly to the Elementary school where George was as together as ever. I swooped him up and got him in the car, and spent 20 min looking for Dustin who decided since he could not find George he would go home with a friend. After finding Dusty Joe we then went to the Boron Clinic where I told the MD on call that I thought he may have degloved his finger, but it was so mangled I could not tell. He looked at the very calm George and thought I was an over reactive parent, gave me the proper paperwork, and waited for the nurse to take him back. Eventually we made it to the room where it was PRICELESS! The MD comes in and says OK let's see it. George unwraps his finger and the doctor stammers... Oh My... Oh My... He looks at me, he looks at George and he says "Man, that looks like it hurts." George looks and him and blink, blink, nothing. So the doctor says "Doesn't that hurt?" And George plain as day says "Well, Yeah" I about died! The fingernail falls onto the table his finger tip is flopped to one side and this doctor is about to pass out and here is my 8 year old looking at this guy like give me the scalpel and I will take care of it myself. Of course the MD did cut the remainder off, and gave us antibiotics and pain meds for Little George. I went to our Primary the next day as well as the hand surgeon. All is well with Boy wounds, and chicks love scars. He amazes me. We are all good, and his hand will heal... but I am sure I will never forget how truly awesome this little man really is.

New Job Blessings...

2009-01-13T13:08:00.000-08:00

Just when you thought it could not get any better then it already was... I got a new job within the NASA bubble. I am going to be the official "Code V Support Specialist at NASA Dryden"! OK, so in English that means basically that I am going to be the new "Secretary for the I.T. Gods of NASA", or for those of you unsure still "The Receptionist of the NASA Computer Geek Squad". I am so happy to get away from numbers and excel sheets. I really love the people here, and the job is not too difficult, but the tasks just don't exactly fit me. This is so much more a better fit. They are doing interviews now for my position, and then I will orient the newbie prior to getting to move on to my new position. The hope is to be there the beginning of February. More then anything this is a career chess game move for me. If I move here and excel in a year or two I might be able to slot into a Civil Servant position. Plus, you can never learn enough about how a computer works, and who else is going to understand my love of Thinkgeek.com? I just know I am so going to love it there! I think in celebration I am going to have to break down and buy the cute pink heart shaped equalizer t-shirt from think geek to wear on Fridays! :)

Who Really Gets to Obtain More Then You Dream?

2009-01-07T07:17:00.001-08:00

I Love my life!!! I really am the luckiest woman in the world... I have a deep abiding relationship with my Lord and Savior. I have 3 of the greatest, loving, and most handsome men entrusted to me to raise as my children. I have some of the best friends a woman could ever have in life. (Donny& Sandra, Tony& Evelyn, Travis&Christina, Michelle&Jeremeh, and of course Amy&James) I have an amazing supportive church family. I live under restricted air space so I get to see AMAZING planes, and feel the rattle in my chest from their Sonic Booms every single day! I have open deserts encircled by level upon level of mountain ranges to play in that have the worlds best sunrises and sunsets. I have the best Beagle in the world... Lucy Lou Who! And oh yeah, did I mention that I get to work at NASA???? I mean really, who works at NASA??? Besides the world's biggest and brightest minds in all the wonderful USA! AND ME!!!!! Do you realize that the Space Shuttle is just the tip of the iceberg with these great people? When you think NASA you think of space, of the shuttle, of amazing hard working astronauts... but what most of us don't know is NASA technology is EVERYWHERE!!! From Kidney Dialysis Machines, to inferred ear thermometers, to hip replacement design, to Fire men's protective suits and helmets, to wireless headsets for phone lines and that is just a tiny, tiny, tiny bit. They have developed technology that tracks wild fires in almost real time which has greatly helped the CDF fire fighters. And Fly by wire technology that allows us to fly unmanned planes over hostile territory to obtain vital information. And they have (of course my favorite) SOFIA, which is an amazing bit of wonderment to help research the environment and the effects of global warming. Really, you have no idea just how great NASA is, or how lucky we are as a country to have it, or how privileged we are as citizens of this great country are to reap its benefits. I am a plane enthusiast, but I am a NASA geek. If you could wish your wildest wish, and break not only the glass ceiling, but keep on going, and going, and going... that is where I am. You may on a good day walk on cloud nine, but me... I float above the clouds, and I do it every single day of my life, without actually ever even having to leave my precious earth. Wow, life is good! Heck no, life is GREAT!!!