The Sun is Shining; There's No Rain in My Heart

The sun is out and the snow is melting; life wins again. All this sunshine has me thinking about summer vacation plans.

This summer will be my first with four weeks of continuous vacation. (Previously I've used two in the spring.) We are planning to bike a lot this summer and I've laid out an 8-10 day trip from Mariehamn - Kaskinen (around 400km) for the whole family, plus a 7 day Tour de Estonia (600+ km) just for Melina and me. I'm getting excited thinking about it, but first I need to get back onto a bike after this winter is done. Hopefully Matilda and I can begin to ride to school/work in the next week or so. On Saturday I rode to the store for the first time, and it felt good.

Hopefully, this will all fall together. Everything is on track, now we just need to act.

Mariehamn is the main city of Ahvenanmaa, the head islands of the Turku archipelago that sweeps far out into the Baltic. The trip would take us across islands to the south western coast of the Finnish mainland, and then up the coast to Kaskinen. Melina's mother is from there and still owns her childhood home.
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Owen got a little quieter this week as laryngitis struck. On Monday night I spend 5+ hours at the lovely Children's Polyclinic hospital with Samppa and he. (Samppa drove us to the hospital and kept us company while we were there. I think Owen liked the political discussion that was waged around him.) It was a non-ideal ending to Melina's birthday, but Owen's laborious breathing needed to be addressed. Seems some kind of obstruction was in his lungs; whether this is normal for laryngitis, or Owen's unique twist on it, is a mystery I'll never solve. Two doses of adrenalin later he was cleared to go. His voice is a whisper now, and it's hard to not whisper yourself when speaking to him.
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Last week Samppa and I successfully took the bird tower at the top of Myllykallio behind my home and drank cold beer in the cold night. The stars were bright and a misidentified Venus burned beautifully down the western sky. (I was behind in my reckoning of what planet ought to be where, when... It's inexplicable how something as pure and beautiful as Venus' light could be mistaken for anything else, but I like pushing the limits of stupidity!) At quarter-to-ten I pointed and stumbled over my words as the Northern Lights began to dance behind Samppa's back. It was a nice touch to the night, followed a few minutes later by a blood-red moon rising above the city horizon.

I miss so much hunkered between my home's white walls, the TV flickering, the computer humming. Following the moon's progress and the planets' paths takes constant observation, but I've never been disappointed by the sight of them. Then why do I continually choose to be let down by Friends? (Ok, I never expect anything from Friends, so there's no let down, but you get the point, right?)
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The seagulls have returned.

An exploration of an interesting tac in the whole gay marriage debate

Star Light, Star Bright

Yesterday, just after 5:00pm, I looked into the frozen blue sky to find Venus. The setting sun was still completely above the horizon and its dazzling light reflected off windows and fresh snow. Over the last several months I've tried to spot Venus as early each day as I could, so I knew where to look, even though Matilda suggested it was still too light to find it. I'd read that Venus is the only celestial object visible during the day, best seen in clear, cold weather; you need to know where to look.

Just as I gave up, Venus' tiny spark caught my eye. It was so delicate and warm, so fragile and far away I marvelled at its sudden appearance. It had been there the whole time, shining despite the sun (or because of it, of course), shining through the brightness of the sun. Once I caught hold of it I could not loose it again. Matilda looked on and said after a bit that she saw it, too. I hope she did.

As I have each night I've found Venus in early hours of the deepening sky, I made a wish and turned to home and sauna.
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The waxing moon lights our bed in the deep hours of night. For the past few nights I've watched it fall across the windowsill, over our bedsheets, onto Melina sleeping by my side. There is a stillness in moon light that calms a restless heart.

If I could choose to live as sun or moon light, I'd wish to be the latter. But my harsh empirical nature is more akin to the former.

As unusual a step as it would be, I could see some definate benefits for his capaign if Bush dropped Cheney from the ticket. I am not sure who I replace him with though (some midwestern governor perhaps).