A Chance Gardner kind of week

So, today was interesting. Actually, there have been a few interesting things this week. I know that Kathy Howe is a big fan of when I use bullet points, so Kathy? This is for you.

1. Twice in the past ten days or so, I have gotten to sit in the co-pilot's seat of the little eight-seater Cessna that flies between Kirksville and St. Louis. Actually, I lie. I am not sure it's a Cessna.

It was a pretty fun experience. The first time I realized the seat was open and went scrambling into it, I said, breathlessly excited, to the very bored young pilot next to me, "I mean, how often do you get to do this?" (The answer, of course, being: Six times every day. Erego: bored).

I took some pictures. (You are hereby forewarned that this post is the result of insomnia. Therefore, there are massive amounts of pictures* here. But not a lot of words! Enjoy.)

*The pics were supposed to be larger. But I spent too much time inserting the pics into the code that organizes them a little bit neatly [read: When I first wrote this post, the amount of bandwidth it chewed up rivaled Finnegan's Wake in length.] to change that for this post. Fear not! If you suspect that any might strike your fancy, pop me a message and I will be happy to send you a larger one.

I have come to realize that my favorite thing to photograph is the sky. That is what most of my pictures end up being of:

But I don't want you to go thinking I'm a one-trick pony or anything. And I have completely neglected to tell you what was interesting about today. I had just gone running (4 miles) and showered and dressed when Christian sprung on me told me that he had an art open house he had to attend for school. 

"When?" Said I.

"Right now."

So, being the good sport I am (and having mostly jimbalaya in the dinner plans), without further ado, we hopped into the car and drove up to the local arts center. 

It was amazing. It will be up for two weeks. You should go check it out. Christian and I already want to go back. 

Portrait of a Young Artist

Himself's. He has inherited his mother's abilities in the visual arts. You may draw your own conclusions about that.

Finally (and, yes, I realize that I have abandoned all pretense of bullet points. Deal.), I had the surreal experience of walking past ayoung woman with no makeup and ponytail, very pretty, in Lambert airport Sunday. I thought, "Wow, that looks a lot like Elizabeth Smart." Turns out there was a good reason for that.

Me being me, I couldn't help approach her and say hello. I remembered at that moment that she was actually coming to Kirksville to speak at the Catholic student Newman Center. I did not realize that I needed to buy tickets ahead of time (because I am a moron), so I didn't get to hear her speak. But I know her story.

After meeting her, I sort of nodded to myself, because for all of the tragedy she has undergone, she strikes me as a very typical Utah, LDS young woman. I do not know if I can really explain what that means, except that even if I hadn't known her exact identity, if I had met and spoken with her, I could have told you that she was a Mormon girl from Salt Lake City. Something about  her accent, her clothes, the hair color (blonde on top, brown underneath), the clothes (casual, but very nice). She reminded me of some of my cousins. 

I never imagined, when I was walking into the grocery store near my parents' house about ten years ago, and saw signs about a missing teenager, that she would ever be safely recovered... let alone that I would meet her a decade later and speak with her.

Life? Is funny.

What, dear Reader, is funny with you?