But all of that paled in comparison to the experience of actually trying to canoe the Buffalo River. It was scenic...I think. But I don't really recall, because what I remember most clearly is that the river had no water in it. Arkansas was in the midst of a drought, and the river had simply dried up. For the better part of 8 hours, in 95 degree heat, we CARRIED our boats down that river bed.
I vowed to be Gluten-Free (I just finished a piece of toast, and had bread for lunch yesterday with my eggs and asparagus).
After last week’s successful cleaning spree, I swore that I would clean one room a day (It’s Tuesday. Stuff is everywhere. I’m avoiding it all.)
I decided that I need more sleep if I’m going to be sweeter and calmer to my familia (I stayed up till midnight last night reading “Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood.)
And so some American Christians scare me. Passionate blog posts about offensive words like "the voiceless" and beautiful photos of homemade clothing and inspiring essays about living off the land inspire me to make more informed choices. But they also make me nervous about my ignorance after years of being outside this milieu and evolving language. They leave me with a pressing question and, at the same time, provide part of the answer.