The previous night we had arrived at the Crown Plaza hotel just outside of Venice, Italy. Scott had discovered a great trick to visiting this city: stay at an off island hotel. This hotel is a reasonably priced 4 star business hotel with direct access, by way of a 20 minute €3 train, to the main island. Granted its not as romantic as staying on Venice island, but who cares, we're both guys, this wasn't a romantic trip.

We had both slept a little later than expected. I tried to time my sleep patterns on the plane to limit my jet lag, but the fact is we were both running sluggish on our first day. By 10am we were able to get moving and catch a quick train.

The train into Venice is a very unique experience. You head southeast away from the mainland into the open ocean. If you look out the left window, all you see is seawater rolling past. The right window reveals a three car highway which is sometimes packed with cars, but this morning the traffic was surprisingly light.

Once you find your way out of Venezia S. Lucia station you are now unmistakably in Venice. The first thing to catch your eye is the water. The Grand Canal is just a few steps away and you can no longer escape the water in this city.

Not only was the water separating the buildings, it was also coming from the skys. We had arrived during a thunder storm. As we started to travel further into the city, we were offered to purchase umbrellas. No thank you, we'll just enjoy the experience.

We really didn't care it was raining, and apparently it worked to our advantage. The walkways were empty, the air smelled great and we actually met a couple of cute girls who were just as lost as we were. What's not to like about rain in Venice?

After happily getting lost several times we eventually found the oldest bridge in Venice, the Rialto. This is a centrally located bridge which connects the west side of Venice to the east. Originally it was wooden, built in 1255 as a replacement to a floating bridge. Today it is a concrete market filled with shops and cigar parlors but still provides amazing views of the Canal.

A short walk lead us to a wedding ceremony outside the Chiesa di San Salvador, a church constructed back in 1177. This will be a recurring theme during my stories of Europe. Nearly every building, every statue, every monument is older than America. Humbling.

Eventually we reached our target, Piazza San Marco. I knew what was coming, so I sneaked ahead and grab a shot of Scott's face as he entered the square. San Marco is a very impressive open space, especially when you consider we have been walking down very small alleys and finding water at nearly every turn. I think this shot explains a lot.

First HDR of this trip, The Campanile

My eyes had much more focus, the Campanile. As any long term reader of this blog will know, I always try to push my friend Scott to conquer his fears during our travels, and in doing so I also conquer my own. I find the tallest structure around and if there is a way up, we're going.

What readers may not know is that as I get older, I am finding that I don't terribly enjoy heights anymore. This has never been a problem for me until a few years ago when I skydived over the swiss alps. The moment I left the plane I feared I had done something wrong and was now falling to my death. It is an irrational fear that I now have to deal with.

Saint Mark's Square, as its known in english, is a large expanse of open air, dominated by the Basilica di San Marco and the Campanile. We had only seen a few people up to this point. Turns out, this is where all the people were hiding. Also, all the pigeons.

The Basilica di San Marco is the largest church in Venice, and unfortunately a huge tourist attraction. After walking around the square, taking it all in, we decided to jump in the line and check out the inside. I have no pictures from inside the church, a habit I got into a long, long time ago. However, a few cities later, I would soon break this habit.

Inside the basilica is an opulent display of the church's wealth, a representation of it's followers' dedication. The pure amount of time it must have taken to build each individual detail is a testament in and of itself. The current building was built in 832, after relics were stolen from Alexandria by local Venetian merchants. Everything in Italy is very, very old.

My eyes could not stop scanning. Neither the gold nor marble could hold my attention for long. I needed to find a way off the ground floor and into something more exciting. That's when I saw it, a line coming from the corner with a small sign that read "terrace view."

The church seems to have figured this out long ago: build amazing buildings in fantastic locations and charge a few dollars for guests to walk out onto the terrace to enjoy the view.

The floor of the terrace is marble and leans outward at an angle to keep the water from pooling near the building. To make matters worse for Scott, it was wet due to the morning's rain which made it extremely precarious to walk on. Additionally, the marble is severely chipped and cracked after centuries of wear and tear. To my amazement Scott walked right up to the edge to pose for a picture. I would like to say I helped him conquer his fears, but that's all his doing. Well done señior.

All this excitement had worked up an appetite so we left the church in search lunch. Still fighting the rain, we quickly ducked into the nearest pizzeria. This would be one of dozens of pizzerias during this trip. The bread was warm, seasoned and delicious, and a stand out snack however quick it may have been.

With our bellies full and little else on the day's plan, we headed back into the piazza for some R&R. Just as we took a seat on the west end of St. Mark's Square, the rain stopped and the sun came out. As if on cue the entire crowd let out an audible sigh, followed by a commune of laughter and applause. The scene was both majestic and inspiring.

Heading south we crossed over the Ponte dell'Accademia bridge, a bridge still constructed from wood. I am very familiar with this bridge, and it holds a special place in my heart. As we passed over the canal and walked past the Hotel Galleria, I could not help but to regale Scott with stories of a long lost love... A love I would think about for the rest of my stay in Italy.

Struggling with my own thoughts, we continued to Café Laguna, the best coffee shop on the southern most edge of Venice's main island. There were no more bridges to cross, no more land to cover, nothing more than a warm sun and a beautiful view.

With a deep breathe, and some coffee, we headed back to our refuge...

Well I have just recovered from my second migraine. My first was about a year ago down in Costa Rica, and lasted 11 days. This one, thankfully, only lasted about half a week. My friend Scott deals with migraines on a regular basis, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Enough about that... Let's get on with the stories!

As is my usual style, I waited until the very last minute for a lot of things before this trip. You know, little things, like renewing my passport! New Zealand immigration laws require that your passport be valid for at least 90 days past your expected departure date. Since I would not be departing that country until mid November, and my passport was up in January, I had to rush and expedite the renewal process. My new passport arrived in mid-September, just in-time for my October 5th departure for Italy.

With that out of the way, I could focus on more important items, like shopping, a hair-cut, and packing. I bought some new white deck shoes just for the trip. I figured they looked "very european." As I tried to break them in over the next few days, stupidly without wearing socks, they cut my heals up pretty bad. Dumb move. I ended up leaving them at home and brought more band-aids instead.

I decided to save a little money and gave myself a fresh buzz cut the day before I left. This went fine, but gave me very little time to pack, which I had not started yet. Perhaps this was not such a hot idea, since I would be gone for a month and a half and visiting both the northern and southern hemispheres.

Doing well so far.

The morning of October 5th I found myself wide awake long before the sun woke up. I had managed to pack two bags, one for Italy and one for New Zealand. The plan was to swap them out when I flew from Italy back to LA, during my eight hour layover.

A few hours before my ride to the airport, I had this overwhelming feeling that I was not bringing enough clothes to Italy. I jumped up and hastily emptied both bags, sorted through the mess and created one giant bag. I had a new, brilliant plan.

I would unpack my enormous bag during my layover, do some laundry, swap out a few small items that I would only need in New Zealand, and repack everything... we'll find out just how well that plan worked later.

As time went on, while I waited for my ride, I started to look around the house for anything I might have missed. Oh, I can fit this... Wait, what if I need this... Well if I brought this, I can bring that... It was the result of a poorly prepared packing job, and it continued to the very last minute.

My parents arrived right on-time, ready to take me to LAX, and I was forced to leave whatever I had missed behind. They had already picked up my traveling buddy Scott, and it was still early in the morning, so the four of us made great time getting up to the airport. So quickly that we had several hours before either of us were scheduled to fly.

Scott & I were flying different airlines with me leaving first, then him later. We had a few hours to kill, and he was able to switch to a much earlier flight. However, because he would be delayed twice on this new route due to weather conditions, he would arrive several hours after I checked into the hotel in Venice. It was not a race, but I totally won.

But, I digress. For me it was smooth sailing departing from LA, transferring in Detroit, then Paris, and finally touching down in Venice. The European Union has recently changed their immigration rules, I found out. Since I had cleared customs in Paris and received a French stamp in my passport, I would not receive an Italian stamp in Venice. Bummer.

Needless to say it had been a long day, covering 6,448 miles over 16 hours and 9 time zones. I was anxious to get to the hotel. I had several options available for transportation once I left the airport terminal; bus, shuttle, walk. In the end I simply hailed a cab, paid more than I should have, and quickly checked into the room for a much needed shower. No sense in messing around.

This, after all, was just the beginning.

Scott & I arrived in Rome this afternoon, just as a protest was getting underway. In some parts of the city, these peaceful protests turned in to dangerous riots. Thankfully, we were a few miles away from the heart of the violence when it erupted. Tomorrow we will be visiting some of the areas where these events took place.

Oddly enough, this is the second protest we have run across on this trip so far. The first was in Venice, and from what we could gather, the two demonstrations were protesting the same issues, "corporate greed." Apparently, this is all tied back to the "Occupy Wall Street" protests taking place recently in New York.

Coincidentally, a few years ago, Scott & I were also mixed up in the London metro bombing, which took place just minutes after we departed the train. I promise we have had nothing to do with any of these events, just bad timing, or good timing considering neither of us were hurt.

We are safe, and we will continue to stay safe.

** side note: as for my trip so far, I'm averaging about a page of notes and 250 pictures per day... looking forward to sitting down and officially writing up all the adventures... stay tuned

Hi All. I'm almost a week into my six week trip, and am writing from Cinque Terra, Italy. Yesterday we were on Lake Como, before that Milan, and we started in Venice. So, its been a busy week.

Tomorrow we leave for Florence, but are stopping in Pisa for a quick trip to the leaning tower. I heard from a fellow traveler that you can climb up the inside now, so that's what we're going to try to do. Last time I visited the inside was closed off. We did climb to the top of the Duomo in Milan, which was a thrill and had a beautiful view.

I can't process any pictures until I get home sometime in mid-November, so I'll post the pictures then. I'm keeping detailed notes everyday, so I have lots to write about. I just wanted to drop a note and let everyone know we're having a great time, and I will post more about the trip soon...

Villa Riviera, Long Beach, CA

Two weeks from now, I'll be boarding a plane headed to Venice, Italy. From there, it takes us about two weeks to go through Florence, Milan, Lake Como, Cinque Terra, Pisa, Rome, Naples, Capri, and back up to Rome.

44 hours later, I arrive in New Zealand for another two weeks. I land in Auckland, and road trip from the north island to the south island, continue to Lake Wanaka where my brother and his wife live, then to Christchurch, then back home.

I've always said that 50% of traveling is the anticipation of the trip. That's one of my favorite aspects of the entire process. You get to dream about all the amazing places you'll be visiting, research what adventures you'll take, choose which cities to stay at, talk to friends that have been there, and the list goes on.

My last hike through Italy has mostly fallen into oblivion due to a poor memory and unfortunate circumstances. I left my backpack in a taxi cab. It happened around two weeks into a month long excursion around Europe, and I had just switched memory cards. As you might have guessed, the memory card, with all my photos, was in the backpack... along with the camera's battery charger. I came home with almost no pictures, but with a big smile on my face.

Live & learn. Two weeks into this trip, my pictures get sent home on a hard drive, memory cards get flushed, and I start again. I hope to have all of my photos in two places at once while traveling, and come home with some beautiful shots.

After the next three two week adventures, a smile is a foregone conclusion.

A few weeks ago I made a promise to myself; by September 1st, I would have launched both of my pending projects. If this was baseball, I'd be batting 500.

Travel plans have a way of sneaking up on you, and October 5th is doing its best to keep up the tradition. Come Monday, it will officially be 1 month until I leave for Italy, then New Zealand, and back stateside in November.

This weekend, I, unfortunately, have to work. Not that life really cares, cause it simply goes on without your best interests involved. If only we could go back to school, when 65% was almost a passing grade, and you could convince the teacher to pass you.

One thing I am working on in my own life, is to find balance. In years gone by, I would have spent every waking minute at work. However, I have seen what that does to my life, how it effects me personally, professionally, and physically. I refuse to return to my frame of mind at the beginning of this blog, and simply start over.

I am working today, of course, but not until after I took a long run along the shoreline, spoke with my friends, and worked out some issues that made me loose my focus today.

For example, I just finished processing this picture (was not taken with my hi-def camera), and how cute is she? The child of a long-time friend of mine.

Far too much time has passed since my blog saw a new post. Life for me has settled back into its usual course of work, with spouts of rendering my next big adventure, if only in my mind. Lately my schedule has enjoyed a healthy balance, more than I was previously accustomed to.

Last weekend was spent with my Dad in Catalina, a self-imposed vacation from the daily grind of a computer screen. We worked on the house together, went to our favorite eateries, refueled our relaxation tanks and had a lot of fun just simply catching up with one another.

I'm presently in the middle of a big push to finish my current projects before September 1st. After that, life gets a little hectic again, with welcomed appreciation. The salmon are about to run, and plans are in the works for me to fly to Washington for some fishing around mid-September. It all depends on the fish.

October 5th is my jump off date. I leave LA bound for Italy. After over 16 hours, with just enough layovers in Detroit and Paris, I'll be tracking down my bags at the Marco Polo airport, about five miles north of my final destination. Searching for a bus into the heart of the floating city is no stranger to me, but still I expect complications. Venice is one of only two places I will have a hotel reservation. More about that later.

Italy's itinerary is penciled in, with the eraser close at hand. Should any city require more attention than anticipated, my travel buddy and I will adjust our plans accordingly. Truth be told, I have visited most of our expected destinations on previous trips, but those memories encompass 16 years, not all of which I remember.

Italy is a beautiful, historic, endlessly interesting country. No one trip is enough. Yet, this is not where my adventure ends.

October 23rd is the beginning of what I expect to be the longest day of my life. I will be traveling west from Rome, headed to Auckland, New Zealand. From departure in Italy to arrival in New Zealand takes 44 hours and 15 minutes, covers 15,192 miles, and spans 15 time zones. That is over 61% of the Earth's circumference on this one flight, well over half way around the world.

Hotel reservations are not built into this trip. Hostels, as I grow older, are unfortunately not an option. In Italy the plan is to show up and bargain to the best of our ability. In New Zealand, we rented a "Jucy Van" and a road trip will ensue towards Wanaka, crossing over from the north island to the south.

I should arrive back home around mid-November. Unfortunately, my time at my brother's house in New Zealand has, according to this schedule, been cut short. Those plans may change, but for now, I need to focus on work.

Our Corner

No. Not that kind of street walking. I was in Minnesota with a friend, walking to a local bridge for some pictures together. This scene was captured hand held using a three shot +-2 exposure. I went a little cartoonish with the processing, I admit. Click on the image for a full screen.

Its amazing how quickly different skills fade. I have not processed a lot of HDR photos lately, and am still sorting through the pictures from Texas. After getting a little frustrated with portrait shots today, I needed to take a break and have some fun.

A happy puppy found in Arlington, Texas

This past week I was flown to Dallas, Texas, to shoot some pictures for a commercial laundry equipment distributor. During a visit to one of their local coin laundry locations, we found this cute pup hanging out in the back of a pick-up truck.

This was one of only a few personal images I captured, despite having taken over 700 pictures in roughly 72 hours. That represents over 20 gigs of data I now have to sort through and whittle down to something useful. After working from dawn to dust each day, the last thing I wanted to do was go hiking around town with twelve and a half pounds of camera gear on my back and a tripod slung over my shoulder.

One of the goals of the trip was to take pictures of each employee and record personal biography information for their new website. I found its easier to be behind the camera than in front of the lens, but if you're relaxed and confident, your subject will be too. I spent nearly a half hour with each team member, and only a few minutes actually taking pictures.

I admit it was a challenge to find the sexy side of laundromats. Bikini models would have helped, but that was beyond the budget. At one site, a handyman happened to be on location, so I snagged his latter and got some good high-perspective shots. A very handy trick I learned from Scott while in Costa Rica was to lay the camera on the ground, and those shots turned out to be very dramatic. Or, as dramatic as a washing machine can be :)

Dexter Dryer Wall

My hosts were overwhelming gracious, and knew all the best food stops in the area. Their hospitality was especially appreciated during the last day of my trip. I was scheduled to fly out of DFW around noon, but due to an approaching thunderstorm, my flight was cancelled. This is the second time in the past month that an airline has failed to keep my originally scheduled flights.

To complicate things further, the local transport authority temporarily closed the only freeway between our office in Garland, and the airport in Dallas. Traveling south towards the Dallas airport, there is a section where three main freeways converge. A fuel tanker decided to have an accident right at this location, which turned everything within a 5 mile radius into a parking lot. My client and I were stuck, in the rain, hail, and lighting, for over two hours while we waited for the wreck to clear.

Once I arrived at the airport, I found that my flight was now expected to leave 8 hours later. I also would not be flying back to Orange County, but rather to Burbank, an hour north by car from SNA. It quickly become one of those days that you must sit back, relax, and try to roll with whatever happens.

After three gate changes, and nearly 11 hours, the plane finally rolled back from the gates, and we were on our way. Needless to say, the passengers and crew were a little cross-eyed by this point. As the plane started to lift, several of us burst into cheer followed by a sarcastic round of applause.

Hi Mom. I hope you have a great day and a fun time in Catalina. Try not to work too much and enjoy you're day :-)

Continuing with the pandas, I found this panda walking his own panda trying to sell pandas on the boardwalk yesterday... Panda!

I hope the boardwalk will be as busy today as it was yesterday, although you wouldn't know it from most of my pictures. Somehow I managed to capture several photos with nobody in them. Just happened to be right at that moment.

Has it really been one year since i started this blog?... and what a year it has been! Had I not been writing, I would have lost so much. I would have missed the transition. I would have forgotten the dark place I was in, the depression I felt, and the anger I was keeping.

I have given a lot of thought towards the future of this blog.... for those that are still reading, I thank you. Without you, I wouldn't be writing this. I feel that so many pictures went unposted though, and so, I have decided to show you what I saw. If this year is as eventful as last, I should find no shortage of photos.

To start off year two.... this bug was found at the base of the Arenal volcano in Costa Rica. Scott and I stayed in an amazing hotel, the night after staying in a dumpy hotel. We had driven through six hours of mayhem, which we can now look back on and laugh.

This was not, nor will be, the first or last time that Scott & I have gotten lost driving in a foreign country....

Sláinte

It had been nearly six months since that warm summer morning of June 9th when I walked up the stairs at LAX and left my life behind in chase of a grand adventure I called Costa Rica. At that moment it seemed as though I had so much time in front of me, so many stories to follow and places in the world to explore. How did it go by so fast?

The lease on my apartment was ending on December 1st, and I had a few decisions to make. The owners of the condo were returning, otherwise I might have rented it a bit longer. When I first started dreaming about this trip, I had planned to head south after Costa Rica on my way to South America. I very much wanted to check off that continent, which would have been my sixth with only Antarctica left to visit. This was not the trip for that milestone as it turns out.

I needed to be back in Las Vegas in early February for my little sister's 21st birthday, so an alternate choice was to work my way north through Central America. Honduras had a certain appeal to me, but with it's recent coup in 2009 I felt as though it could also wait until a future trip. Belize remains high on my list of destinations, and is one country that I will be visiting as soon as possible.

Since I had just visited Nicaragua to renew my visa, there was no reason I couldn't simply stay in Costa Rica for a while longer. I liked this option as I had heard fantastic stories about Playas del Coco during the holidays. Between Christmas day and New Years, the local authorities block off the main road and let thousands of party-goers wander the streets in search of good times. Its likened to Bourbon Street in New Orleans. This I had to see to believe.

In an effort to buy a little time and delay any decision at all, I moved in with my neighbor Anthony. He had the same apartment layout as I did, with an extra room where I could crash. It was the shortest and easiest move I have ever made. I packed my backpack, walked 10 feet from my door to his, and unpacked my bag.

This gave me a bit of breathing room, but it felt like a fallback plan rather than an intentional choice. I couldn't help but feel as though I was now being lazy, no longer chasing a dream and simply being a bum. The holidays were fast approaching, and there was one last option still unexplored... to go home.

My family had all planned a Christmas getaway to my parent's new vacation home in Lake Almanor, California. For as long as I can remember, we have all spent Christmas together in the house us kids grew up in. Without fail, year after year, with only one Christmas in over 30 years spent away at my Aunt Karen's house. This was a big deal, and a gathering I was very saddened to be missing.

The family would be leaving on December 10th, making the ten hour drive north through the length of California, and spending several weeks enjoying a rare and extended white Christmas. This deadline to join them wore on me, day after day, as though I was making a mistake by staying in Costa Rica. I couldn't help but feel that I was missing a beautiful family adventure, one that would stay in our memories for a lifetime to come.

The gang says good-bye

On the morning of December 8th, I awoke with a penetrating thought to which there was no escape. It occurred to me that I had been ready to go home for some time now. I had few reasons to stay, yet so many reasons to leave.

I jumped online to check the flight schedules. Harmless in and of itself, but that simple action was the final catalyst needed to send me home. Within 24 hours from that moment I would be boarding a plane in Liberia destined for LAX. It all happened so fast that I could barely believe it myself.

If I had a hard time believing it, imagine how my friends would react. My new roommate, for all of the past seven days, was completely shocked. When I broke the news around town, I was met with dropping jaws and shaking heads.

Me & Magic Jim

It seemed backwards to everyone. I had arrived in Costa Rica during the rainy season, a season when the town is nearly empty. Now that we were headed into the dry season, when the town is full of snowbirds from Canada and the refugees from inland Costa Rica, I was leaving not only our city, but the country as well. In a very unexpected move, just when life returns to Playas del Coco, I was saying good-bye.

My close friends couldn't let me leave without a celebratory evening at Coconutz. We had all met each other at a similar outpost in life, one that had lead us all to Costa Rica, from all over the United States, all at the same time, and for much of the same reasons. It was sad to be leaving this small but tight group of friends. It was simply my time.

Me & the lovely Sarah

A recurring conversation played out around the table that night. We each thought of home, what we had left there and what we had gained abroad. Dennis was scheduled to fly home to Texas in a few days, and Anthony was looking for a path back to Florida. Kenny had no plans of seeing his Philadelphia anytime soon, but would always long to return to the Dominican Republic or Cuba. Sadly though it would be me who was leaving first.

Before the sun rose on the next morning, December 9th, exactly six months after landing in Costa Rica, I was headed up the 151, turned left on highway 21, then pulled down the mile long side street which leads into the Daniel Oduber Quiros International Airport. I was struck by a fleeting feeling that I was slinking out of town hidden under the cover of night, yet I knew this to be untrue. I had made my decision, officially said my good-byes, and didn't look back.

Our favorite haunt, Coconutz

The great excitement of returning home was unexpected. There was no regrets about my time away, no afflictions for my decisions, and no qualms about leaving a country which had been so kind to me for so many months. When I landed in Houston and heard the overhead announcements in perfect English, I knew I was headed in the right direction.

Mom was waiting for me at the baggage claim in Los Angeles, a sweeter reunion there are few. The 405 freeway, which now separated me from the rest of my family, was having a record breaking traffic jam, or at least it felt that way. Nothing could get me home fast enough as I stared out the window at a bristling Southern California.

Dad met me at the house with open arms, ready for a long overdue hug. Although the three of us had found a few mornings to share a long-distance breakfast over video-calling, we reunited as though we had not seen each other since they left my humble habitat in Costa Rica back in mid September.

Of course there was one particular little lady who was absolutely beside herself when I walked in the door. It took a slight moment for my dog Leena to realize that I was home, but once she recognized me it was a no-holds-barred wrestle-fest. She would become my shadow, unwilling to let me out of her sight for fear I would disappear again.

When I saw my little sister for the first time in far too long, I was reminded of just how beautiful she had become. Later that evening when my little brother came by the house, only then did I know my journey home was complete. Unfortunately, I was missing one sibling though, my older brother, which I would have to wait for our reunion.

Realizing the creature comforts of home is not complete until you climb into your own bed, crawl under the covers, and enjoy a long breathe of relaxation.

It was good to be home...

A bit belated, but Happy New Year! This is my first post of 2011, and we're nearing the one year anniversary of this blog coming up on January 17th. A lot has happened, a lot has changed, and a lot is planned for the coming year. I am still working on blogging 2010, so lets get this done...

We had planned our Nicaragua trip to end just a few days before Thanksgiving. Our friend Anthony is a professional chef, and was hired by Dan over at Coconuts to cook a huge Thanksgiving dinner for nearly the entire town. We certainly did not want to miss that...

Here you can see most of our regular group sitting together. The restaurant was fairly full, since Coconuts was one of only two places in town hosting an authentic turkey dinner. We had one of the bigger tables of the evening, in a great spot close to the kitchen. In fact, we had an entire section of Coconuts all to ourselves that night. It was a special evening for all of us, and one of the last times we would all be together.

Anthony, being the die-hard chef that he is, slaved away in the kitchen all night. When we have our Sunday football afternoons, Anthony is always in the kitchen cooking something. It seems to bring him a sense of peace, always with a smile on his face.

We saw very little of him while he prepared 20 turkeys, half baked and half deep fried. I had never had deep fried turkey before, and it was delicious. If you haven't tried it, I highly recommend it.

Anthony had a little help in the kitchen that evening. He needed it too, since there was a massive pile of potatoes to peel and cook, along with all the other trimmings. By this point, they had been preparing for the feast for nearly a week.

It all came together with perfect timing on Thanksgiving night. The chef was chefing, the waitresses were waitressing, the barkeeps were keeping everyone happy, and we all gave thanks for the blessings we had been given.

I had much to be thankful for. Just before dinner I was able to call my family in San Diego. They had all convened at my older brother's house, which seems to be becoming a yearly tradition. They passed the phone around, and I was able to say hello & happy Thanksgiving.

As the evening went on, I thought much about the past year, and how my life had transitioned into something unrecognizable compared to just twelve short months ago. Losing a six year relationship, quitting all forms of employment, walking away from my house, my family and my dog...

Then it hit me. This dramatic shift of life had triggered a reaction so slow, I barely noticed. I was genuinely smiling again. I was waking up in the morning full of energy, ready for whatever the day may bring. The past year had been one of overwhelming lows, equally impressive highs, and it all seemed to culminate for me in this one evening.

Had I found whatever it was I was looking for? Had time finally taken hold of my wounds and given me back to myself? Who knows the answers to such questions... What I do know, is that I was now ready to think about going home...