sunshine holiday

It's a good problem to have. Too many excellent photos. Too many excellent memories. Too much to attempt to record. But I know myself and I know that I'm better now than later, better in this moment than waiting to organize. So let's begin.

Christmas in California. Christmas with my beautiful family.


Time in the city. Time to eat delicious food and explore shops on sunny walks.


Time to take my girl to Disneyland for the first time. To watch her see more human beings than she ever had in her entire life in one place at one time. Even with all the stories and descriptions I provided the months prior to the trip, I don't think she had any clue what she was in for. When I applied sunscreen to her cheeks in the car she said, "Why are you putting sunscreen on me? Is Disneyland outside?"

Little did she know that Disneyland is it's own, grand universe. She was a little freaked out by the dark on the kiddie rides, so we took it pretty easy.


Around two o'clock she said, "I think I'm ready to go home now." Huh. Sounded swell to me as I was feeling a bit freaked out by the crowds. So we booked it on out. Disneyland. Check.


But that was so a teeny, tiny piece of our adventure. Daddy met us at the beach after our five days apart. Were we thrilled to see him! He brought the laid-back, travel, come-what-may vibe that I needed to infiltrate my holiday. We enjoyed the sun and sand. The children, of course, managed to get themselves naked.


That seems to be a theme with them. Naked in nature. Naked in sunshine. We ate fish in Malibu and drove through Topanga Canyon and I marveled at how big and blue and beautiful it all is.


There was a sunny Christmas eve hike, followed by Christmas eve sushi and, of course, lots of Christmas love. After a decade of living with Montana seasons, the 75 degree holiday seemed otherworldly. Otherworldy and easy and just as it should have been.

Post Christmas found us adventuring back to our roots as a couple. Jeff and I spent lots and lots of time together in Joshua Tree during our first years together.


There is something really magical about taking your children to a place that was significant to the family before they arrived.


My dad joined us for a day, which added to the whole, "full circle" quality of the experience.

They loved the rocks and caves and colors. Eliana, ever the explorer, ended up with a hand full of cactus quills.

But she was tough, and we got our hands on some good tweezers, and, I guess, it was all part of the adventure.





Leaving Joshua Tree was tough. But Zion was a welcome hello. I hadn't been to Zion in forever and forgot how mesmerizing the red rock cliffs were.




After two days of camping, the lodge was a welcome refuge, complete with a warm bath and a delicious restaurant. The hardest part about Zion was having to leave. We had a good fifteen or so hours left of the drive and school and work and real life to return to.


We kissed the sunshine goodbye, wiped the red earth from our hands, and pulled away.


The rest of the adventure was firsts in a way that is not as blog worthy. First family fast food. First family Walmart trip. These are firsts that I'm not too proud of but, unfortunately, firsts that are sometimes the only option when traveling on the American open road. Eliana's eyes were almost as big when entering Walmart as they were when she first spotted Cinderella's castle at Disneyland. Ah, America.

But so much more than supersize box stores, the supersize grandeur of our country really hit home. The ocean and desert and mountains. Driving back into Missoula always makes me catch my breath. That last stretch on the 90 between Deer Lodge and Rock Creek, right along the Clark Fork. The bend in the road and tan of the earth. My memory of seeing that stretch of road for the very first time. It was hot sun July, the blue sky beginning of our Montana adventure. Joni Mitchell crooned on my car stereo, all honesty and heartfelt. I looked out my window and felt my heart swell. My breath catch, then slow. The wonder of adventure. Of seeing something new. Of travel and opportunity. Of trusting the spirit of the unknown.

I felt that way seeing the world with my children these past two weeks. Felt that same heart swell when we drove into Joshua Tree. When we saw the red cliffs. As we passed hour after hour together on the open road, ready to face anything, as long as we were together.