Dreams, ya know? You remember those, right? Like cayenne pepper in the back of your throat, or a hangnail on a dry cuticle, they nag at you.

Given the proper combination of elements, dreams become spewing blow torches of fuel, of oxygen and fire. The flame is constant and hot, paralyzing even in the warmth of its seduction. They have the power to ruin lives. Or to make a life unforgettably and without measure, extraordinary.

Conditioning for the Grand Teton summit bid has continued in Jackson, Wyoming.  In the actual environment the climb will take place, my body aches from the intensity that cannot be duplicated in a gym. Here, I’m faced with the reality of what it is I’m attempting. Confronted daily with a view of Grand Teton standing at 13,770 feet, an iteration of the dream has taken place.

It’s not about the summit anymore. I WILL be disappointed should I not summit. Six months of my life have been dedicated to strict training and diet. Fear has been and continues to be battled. But I will stand at the base of the mountain knowing I pursued this dream with all my might.

The external/physical risks are great. But they’re minuscule, insignificant even, in light of the greatest potential trauma. Failure at the attempt, while painful and disappointing, would be nothing compared to the internal trauma of not having made the attempt at all. A dream without pursuit is a trauma that breeds regret.

Within days of the attempt, the bid for the summit has become a technicality.

The Attempt

Don’t tell me you’re not capable of the same dedicated, passionate pursuit of your own dreams. You are.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” — 1994 Inaugural Speech of Nelson Mandela

The necklace is of gold, like most dreams. Tiny and delicate and really no one ever notices it. Not even me. It’s become part of me, connected at its ends by a clasp that has never failed. The clasp must know should it come undone, I would follow.

The pendant falls at the concave curve that lies so neatly below the adam’s apple and in between the clavicle. For 7 years now it’s rested in that place made famous by The English Patient. Such a part of me it’s become, the significance of it faded into obscurity.

In spin class today splatters of sweat displaced by it were felt on the underside of my chin. For the first time, I became aware of it swinging, rhythmically striking that curve. Clarity struck me like the pain in my quads. This necklace hanging so perfectly and beautifully unintrusive at my suprasternal notch represents the current epicenter of my life. And I’d forgotten about it.

During six months that have revolved around long, sweaty workouts, recovery, showers, and trying to make it as a freelance writer, a dream has unfolded.

The necklace is a line engraving of Grand Teton.  It’s been given a nice scrub and polish since the revelation.

From my journal on the Grand Teton climb:  “Overwhelmed is how I felt atop the summit of Grand Teton. The exertion required to get there, and the grandeur of the view that greeted me were immense. I was humbled by the magnificence of the perch I’d managed to reach. And while the achievement was of personal significance, the powerful impact of such natural beauty served to abruptly put me in my place – I understood in one glance my INsignificance. There are few things that can so readily and with such sweeping conviction reveal what it is to be mortal.”

So now that’s off my chest, you must know the wonder of the climb has worn off. Completely. I’m in a weird place right now, lost, a bit depressed even. I can appreciate what Lewis felt after the expedition was over; mine of course on a much lower scale.

It seems the preparations to summit Grand Teton went long enough for “normal” to be altered. After a year of intense focus on the goal, I’m struggling to redefine what “normal” is post summit, post 5 and 6 workouts a week, post all that build-up.

Imagine a year’s worth of foreplay, then one great round of sex, the guy leaves for Antarctica (didn’t even spend the night) and you never hear from him again. Kinda like that.

Friends have said it’s time to start thinking about what’s next. I’m still tired, so thinking about what’s next doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest. Although I must admit Everest’s South Base Camp has wedged its way into my brain more than once.

Should I pick up where I left off on the fried foods I love so much, the fast food I am/was addicted to, the chocolate, mashed potatoes and gravy, biscuits, bacon and grits?  What about drugs? I’m not above their usage. I mean pharmaceutical companies spend billions developing drugs for every malady known to man. Is this a “malady”?  I can tell you for certain, the first time I feel the slightest twinge of a hot flash, I’ll have no qualms about using them. No question. They’ll shorten my life?  Generations of women in my family have lived to be near 100. So I die at 90.

Well that was a therapeutic tirade.  I feel better. Mountain or a molehill?  It’s just a molehill. This too shall pass. In the interim, how ’bout a cheeseburger?

who needs drugs when these exist?

If you like this post or find it even remotely helpful/informative, leave me a comment, tweet it, or click around on the site a bit with all that spare time you have (there’s no advertising anywhere on here – believe me it’s not for lack of trying). If none of that trips your trigger, then how about joining the Road Trip Revolution at the Solo Road Trip Facebook Fan Page, here.

There is also now a Shutterfly vs Snapfish, Take II.

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For me, shooting digital has resulted in a screeching halt of printing. I’m guessing it’s the same for you.  A local commercial color printer continues to print the captures I want to add to my portfolio, but those are laughingly rare and consist largely from Western China and the Great Plains region of the U.S.

Having discovered Shutterfly a few years ago, I uploaded family photographs taken over that year and had personalized calendars made for Christmas gifts. They were a huge hit and I thought Shutterfly did a good job with them.  After that, I began using them for all my printing and various fun photo projects (personalized calendars, coffee mugs, mouse pads, photo albums).

I’ve been happy with the prints, but Snapfish (by HP) caught my attention recently and I thought I’d give them a try. Of course, I wanted to compare, so I had both Snapfish and Shutterfly print identical photos of my 5.6 rated technical summit of Grand Teton.

The upload process was the same – both were fast and without fuss.  The total spent at Snapfish for 8-4×6’s and 3-5×7’s, including shipping was $4.05. At Shutterfly, I ordered one more 5×7 by mistake. My total there was $7.67. Since it was my first order with Snapfish, the 4×6’s were free (20 free 4×6’s after your first upload). Shutterfly frequently offers similar deals.  Comparing  pricing, I surmise they are very similar, even though this order was more with Shutterfly (with the add’l 5×7). Shipping speed was the same- ordered on the same day, received both orders a few days later.

As cameras have dynamic ranges that see the scene differently (see this article on L’heure Bleue – The Blue Hour), printing 4×6’s can be very tricky. Most point-and-shoot cameras have a 4:3 aspect ratio.  Translation: upon printing, a 4×6 photo will be cropped somewhere.  The fix? Snapfish offers a 4×5.3 “True Digital” option that prints the photo with no cropping.  But frames for a 4×6 will not work for this option. Furthermore, several online forums report there IS cropping, even on the 4×5.3 photos. And when I went back to Snapfish to find this option so I could better explain it to you, I couldn’t find it! Made me crazy.

Shutterfly allows you to select your own crop.  So you choose the photo, then say you choose the 4×6 print option. A preview screen comes up showing the 4×6 area, and allows you to drag the photo around the space.  This means you don’t get a photo back with the sunset at the top missing, or someone’s head cut off (see post about Bad Photography, or Good Photography with a Disposable Camera!).  The 4×6 photo will also neatly fit into a frame.

So what about the most important factor – print quality?  Shutterfly gets the nod hands-down. The color, ESPECIALLY the skin tones, is markedly BETTER than Snapfish. In the Snapfish photo, my face looks ghostly pale.  In the Shutterfly photo, the blacks are blacker, the colors pop – like they’re supposed to.

Shutterfly will continue receiving my business (until someone else catches my attention and I have to do another comparison).

Here are the two photos – both scanned by my cheap-o scanner/printer/fax/copier purchased for $100 six years ago and still buzzing along quite nicely.  Pay attention to the overall color, the blacks, and the skin tones.

Shutterfly on the Left; Snapfish on the Right

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Fifteen seconds of fame – the article.