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I am back in Phoenix, sitting in my new house. Honestly, my emotions right now all drive me to want to be back at my old house. I loved that place. Everything about this new place is unfamiliar. The feeling running through me now are the same I experienced in my first week in New York City, New Orleans, and Atlanta. I feel out of place.

On any given day, your home is that refreshing place where everything is in order. But I don’t have that yet. The normal centers of entertainment aren’t here: TV, radio, computer, etc. My tools are at the old house so I can’t bang away at a project. Plus my cozy couches are there too, so I can’t settle down with a book.

To make things even more unwelcoming, I don’t have any familiar food in the fridge. That’s part of the fun of coming home is raiding the fridge. But I swing open that big Sub Zero door and the only thing inside is food is left from the people who sold me the house. That’s just weird looking at another man’s pickles. So to find familiarity in this foreign place, I flipped open my laptop and here I am.

We got in from San Diego a couple hours ago. Candyce and I were in charge of driving the rental car with the three youngest in the back. I have to admit it was kind of fun being the “dad” in the car. The little kids are cute and they have big personalities, so it was fun to look in my rear view mirror and talk to them. I’d point out goofy things on the side of the road just to hear them laugh: “Look at that dinosaur! Look at that stupid cactus! Look at that funny car!” I felt perfectly comfortable being the dad. All the while the radio was playing songs from my freshman year of high school: Stone Temple Pilots’ “Plush”, Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, and Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy.”

The car was a brand new Ford Explorer, so it was a comfortable drive. Normally in my Element I have to fight my way up the mountains, but the big engine in the Explorer shot us up and over every mountain without any effort. After six hours on the road, I didn’t even feel worn out. I can now see why people eventually people ignore fuel economy and get a big comfortable car.

So I’m going to spend the next few days in Phoenix, and then head up to Notre Dame. Candyce has a several bridal shops she’ll be checkin’ out over the next few days. This is such an exciting time in life.

This morning Candyce and I went jogging in San Diego. It was a lot of fun to spend time together. It’s amazing. We’ve known each other for five years and we still get excited to spend time together. While we were jogging, I got that same rush as when I was in fourth grade and I sat next to the girl I had a crush on. She’s just so easy to look at.

Candyce snapping a picture. (Notice that she’s wearing a shirt I designed.)

When I took the picture, it was me and Josh behind me who were still awake. I realize my smile looks a little forced, but I was driving at the same time.

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Huge windmills at the top of a ridge in California

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Nothing but highway.

We were just 50 miles outside of Phoenix when I pulled over to snap this shot. We had drivin on a ridiculously hilly road for 20 miles. It was a roller coaster for grownups.

This is what life in the desert is all about.

One of the greatest joys of living in San Diego this summer is having good weather so I can be outside all the time. When I’m done with work for the day, I borrow Danny’s mountain bike and I explore The neighborhoods and back allies of Carlsbad, Leukadia, and Encinitas. Each beach town has a distinct flavor.

Exploring these streets gives me the same exhilaration that I got as a boy exploring the woods behind our house. On my bike I explore the shores of lagoons, along the railroad tracks, and under bridges. And since I’m a grown up now, I also look for fun restaurants for Candyce and I, and practical conveniences like an ATM or the Post Office. F

or most mornings this week I got up at seven and rode my bike down the PCH and get some coffee at a breakfast place for beach bums. Unlike Phoenix, it’s cloudy here in the morning, and it even rained earlier this week. For most people, rain is a real downer, but to me it’s the most exciting experience. As I warm up with my coffee, I flip through my new book about carpentry so I can learn how to do new things to my house: crown molding, wains coating, a trellis for vines and flowers. This may not seem like much to some people, but for me, these are the best mornings this side of heaven.

It’s easy to judge people based on their hobbies or interests. I am get a mixture of curiosity and pity when somebody explains their passion: model ship making, pet grooming, the fiddle. I just can’t imagine how someone arrives at a hobby as quaint as making corn husk dolls. You don’t decide to do that one day; a hobby like that is thrown before you and you become enamored by folding dry corn husks in the shapes of little people. How can anyone feel cool when they shape corn silk in the shape of a head of hair?

I prefer hobbies that have guts. Welding. Mountain biking. Backpacking. I shouldn’t say welding because I’ve only played with it, but I like people who do weld. My other hobbies are tame but at least have mystique: painting, traveling, and reading.

I’ve always judged people who like to play paintball because they are the closest remind me of the rednecks I grew up with. Just a bunch of dimwitted males choosing games to exert pain on one another. But I take all of that judgment back and say that I was totally wrong. Paintball kicks ass.

Josh’s friend organized a day of paintball, and I decided to join the clan as a chaperone. Once we had loaded guns, a face mask, and a camo jacket, we joined a horde of junior high boys and marched towards the first game for beginners. We split into two groups, and spread out into what looked like a war-ravaged village. There were small wooden structures to hide in, bunkers, trees, bushes, rocks, the hillside. The referee yelled to begin the game, and a paintball exploded on my hand within three seconds. I didn’t even have a chance to put my finger on the trigger and I was already shot. What the hell?

As the day went on and I got more experience aiming my warped gun, I was to last longer and actually have some fun. It was hysterical to play army with these kids because they were all too eager to be the dominant male. They would bark orders at me and use stupid lingo: “There’s a sniper on the hill! I said bunker down! Load up at push!” I don’t even think they knew what they were talking about. But as long as someone else with a fancier gun said it, it was worth repeating with confidence. There were other grownups in the game who were obviously not beginners. They wore head-to-toe Desert Storm uniforms and carried some serious guns. They’d storm through a course and take out twenty seventh graders in ten minutes. I don’t know where these guys came from or why they played with this group, but looking back, I think I’m just jealous because they were so good.

My best performance was the last game in a hilly field covered with trees and overgrown bushes. All day I’d been pelted by herds of 20 kids hiding in a bunker. It’s easy to hide and just unleash bullets. But it was more fun for me to run from one place to the next, diving behind barrels and jumping over walls. And that’s where I got nailed.

But finally, there was no safe place. Everyone was on their own in the woods. I crawled through ditches and then finally nestled down in some brush and nailed a few unsuspecting dorks cutting through the trees. But after a few minutes the bad guys caught onto my game and unleashed about 100 paintballs into my bush. It felt like I was being squirt with a garden hose from twenty feet away. Except it was a rainbow of paint.

The most amusing theme of the day was the safety freaks. At any moment, one dork was yelling at another dork about their blunders in safety. Masks on! You are in shooting range! Sheath your weapon soldier! This went on for hours. You’d hear some commotion and expect a school yard pushing match, but alas it was only a concern for another’s safety.

About four hours ago I got the key to my new house. Before I walked in the house as the new owner, I took this picture of myself:

Finally mine!

I actually said a prayer right after I took that picture before I even put the key in the door. What a rush!

That was four hours ago. I’m back at my old house getting some stuff done for work. It’s surreal to actually know that the house is finally mine. I first wrote about this house on March 24th, back when it was cold in Phoenix. That was three months ago! And every day since then I’ve made some sort of effort towards buying the house.

It’s kind of sad to have Candyce out in California because she can’t be here to celebrate with me. I love her so much. This will be our first house together! I am such a blessed, blessed man.

My friend Jeff and his wife bought a house in the neighborhood next to Candyce’s house in San Diego. I mean, he bought a house 400 miles from Phoenix, and it’s less than fifteen houses away from Candyce’s family. How crazy is that? He’s actually going to be out there a week from today do walk-through the house before they close on it.; I hope to be out there by then and he’ll be able to show me the place.

Jeff and I know each other from church, but it’s our interest in landscaping is what we talk about the most. He does the outdoors for the finest homes in Phoenix. I’m a little jealous, because he gets to do it for a living and it’s just a hobby for me. But he promised to give me some guidance in how to set up my new house with a Mediterranean palette of plants and trees. So it’ll be fun to do a more professional redesign of my new house.

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I think you have at least one hobby that is purely adventure. Something like rock-climbing, fly fishing, snowboarding, sailing, or something like that. Since most of the last five years of my life been on the road, I chose a hobby that was calming: landscaping. Now that I’m home more, I think it’s time for an adventurous hobby. I guess I should just fire up the hot rod.