Crimson Tide

I've spoken before about the World's most tragic and magnificent love story playing out high in the sky above our heads.

The Sun and the Moon,
constantly chasing one another around and around, 
year after year, 
century after century.

But every once in a great while, 
they finally catch up. 

They have such a brief moment to hug, to hold one essential kiss as the entire universe slows down to watch.
And just like that, it's over.

Not by their own accord, but because a force greater than their own says it must be so.
They grip tight as long as they can until the pull is so great they have to let go.
And the chase continues.
Until the next time.

Last night we had a total lunar eclipse in the sign of Aries while the sun is in Libra. These two are polar opposites. They agree on nothing.  
What does this mean? 
Wake up calls, restlessness, rebellion. 
We crave movement. We're about freedom. We react rather than respond. We're all on fire and we're acting out of our shadow side. 

For me personally, I'm anxious. I spend my nights dealing with the lashing out of my own mind. Too much emotional turbulence.  Soon enough, we'll return to cruising altitude and the captain will take off the "fasten seat belt" sign. I just have to wait it out with my peanuts and my spilt soda. 

In the meantime,
I shop.

This week at our favorite thrift store, I found the score of a lifetime. 

This is a 1967 Jason brand telescope and I'm in love. 

Junk? 

Maybe. 

But there is a moon eclipse in Aries which I'd love to see up close.

So I bought it. 

Sometimes you stumble on unpredicted things that you would normally never expect to go together but for whatever reason they just fit in the most beautiful harmony. 

Like a Snapple bottle into a Pringles can.

This telescope fits like that in my new space room. 

As of this morning, the full moon is slowly starting his 2 week final decent to becoming new again. So for all you fellow transients out there,
take a deep breath.
The nomadic noise is going to start smoothing itself out soon enough and your mayday calls will get answered.
Don't be afraid to get up and walk around a little. You're welcome to come say hello to me while we taxi towards the gate. I'll be sitting back in coach with my headphones on typing away on my Macbook Pro. Feel free to tap me on the shoulder, I'd love to hear from you.

Office Space

Today is the fall equinox. 

It's time to align.
To coordinate.

I haven't published anything since the 4th of July.
I went all summer swinging from my hands beneath the tight rope, confusing it for a trapeze.
It's time to climb on top, position my feet, and walk to the other side.
Balance, balance, balance.

The tail end of my last writing cycle was explosive and motivating and since then everything in my brain has turned into murky waters. 
It's sort of the way I would see an old New Orleanian swamp: still mystic, still ready to cause some Creole voodoo, still dusted with very slow banjo music, still creeping with gators, but very hushed and on pause. Just cruising along in my little boat I suppose, checking out the water logged tombs, keeping quiet, sipping on my moonshine. 

We are currently in the dark of the moon which feels unsettlingly pacific considering this is the summer of the "Super Moon" and the last 3 months have been nothing but hype and over exposure. 

I'll tell ya, that last full moon was a doozy. It was the best I could do to try and get out of its way.

Lately, I've been finally piecing together the last of my home office. I knew I wanted it to be a place where I would feel comfortable and productive and above all else, inspired. What I ultimately envisioned was the Denver Planetarium but obviously, my one smallish room wasn't enough to hold the cosmic crown, so I had to make some alterations.

Originally, this area was the same crematorium grey as the rest of the house. I wanted an infinite blue color for the walls and in the end went with Regatta Bay #550F-6 by Behr. I will tell you, this particular project was the biggest bitch of our house. The HBIC, the loft, the hub of the top floor, the queen of interaction, the heart of connection. You can't get to any of the upstairs rooms without passing through her space which is kind of cool but essentially that just means painters-taping 6 doorways worth of trim and let me tell you, that sucks.

The ace, as always, is playing dress up. Starting a room out with a clean slate makes things much easier to envision and create. This particular territory had galactic gleam built right into it's walls. I could sense it. Kalynn has made me some pretty sweet lunar masterpieces over the last couple of years and they have been waiting patiently in my filing cabinet for their chance to go on stage.

Although I don't feel the need to document every sample of her budding artistic expression, I do want to get back in to my writing groove and the only thing I feel compelled to write about at the moment is where I've been spending the most time. It seems fitting to show some of the brush strokes that have spattered my proverbial canvas.

This little waxing crescent was cut from a paper plate and covered in tin foil. The stars are a yellow construction paper soaked in glitter glue and the blue ribbon was taken off an old piece of Cabbage Patch clothing. 

I was constructed my very own rocket ship this summer by my little aspiring astronaut. She says once she gets to the moon, she'll buy herself some space clothes so she fits in with the aliens. Space house slippers are on the top of her list. She says "there must be a store around there somewhere..."

Ok, so the desk.

This monumental piece of furniture where I sit and write stories, where I pay my bills, where I piece together home videos, where I edit all of your beautiful wedding clips, where I house my photography and craft ideas, the external hard drive of my brain, my desk! 

Oh, how I love the square chair shape of my ass after having been sitting for hours talking to you guys.

This tiny little corner of my house feels just like I'm a baby being swaddled in the literary cloth of modern technology. 

Yes. 

And as I sit and stare at my 4 computer screens, my framed family photos, and my adorable little mouse pad, I turn my head to the left and see one of my very favorite pieces of art of all time... a celestial bloom drawn by BJ. 

This world lost BJ on November 5th, 2010. It was a Friday. When I got the call, the sky was completely black. Kind of like it is right now. Not even a cheshire cat grin above us. I swear the illumination of the entire universe dimmed.

Of all the art I saved from him over the years, this is my absolute favorite.

Now.

However enchanting I believe my room to be in the evenings when the dimmer switch dips low, the sound of summer rain permeates the deafening air, and flickering candle light makes dancing shadows across floor, 

the ever alert sunshine comes barreling through morning after morning. 

My office stands tall, does an immediate and intense 'about-face' on its crisp black dress shoes, and selflessly makes way for Sponge-Bob Squarepants, over sized Legos and the daily My Little Pony parade. 

Thus, the circle of life is complete.

So this is where I've been lately. In case you were wondering.

I wish you all a smooth transition from Summer to Autumn. Try to remember during this time of acrobatic swaying, not to take anything too serious on one side or the other.
It's all about balance.

"I hope that the greens, purples, and oranges of your swirls stay bright and don’t ever get too sour. Such things ruin perfectly good paintings." - BJ Backman 1978-2010


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Solstice Season

This gorgeous Northern Hemisphere of ours is on its way to Summer camp. 

Our little fraction of Earth has its duffle bag packed, trail mix has been made with extra M&M's, clean underwear is in tow. He's checking his cell phone for the time as to not be tardy. Excitement is beginning to brew about adventures just around the corner and he's already thinking of what to write in the first few postcards to the Moon. Correspondence is important, you know. 

I wonder how many tales about solstices and equinoxes have been told around the campfire. I wonder if Ritual and Celebration take turns storytelling of ancient sites, Algonquin farmers, and cultural astronomers. 

Midsummer is an very animated time around my house. Days are longer than nights and focus shifts ever so slightly more to the Sun. Our garden is growing, our sprinkler is chasing Kalynn around the yard, our tequila shots are going down a bit smoother, our grill is working overtime with half the pay and not a peep of complaint. 

It is sad to me that we're pretty much an indoor culture at this point. Our connection to the sky is fleeting. If we aren't farmers interested in growth and harvest seasons or neo-paganists or new age revolutionists, there is a noticeable decline in astrological significance. I happen to be none of these things but my desire for a cosmic relationship is stronger than the lust of a 19 year old boy. 

I need it to get through my days. 

There can be a special spirituality in celestial mechanics. It's a baffling scientific mix of mathematics, history and humbleness. It feels so good to be a part of something so massive. 

So, for us anyway, we'll be celebrating the first day of Summer outside.  

We'll be soaking up the season and having tea in a magical fortress with Cabbage Patch Kids and tons of purple pillows. Because what better way to say hello to Summer than with a pile of purple pillows? I mean, really...

Waxing and Waning

With another very welcomed full moon coming up on Friday, my loving Luna has been running through my mind all week. Some people feel a bit off when the moon is so saturated with this sort of bright energy but I tend to tap into our connection. I feel this moon is pregnant with the universal knowledge of love and harvest and the concept of enjoying all you've worked hard for. Appreciation. Reaping what you sow.
June is the month of the Strawberry full moon according to the Algonquin tribes who have since taken responsibility for the naming of our lunar orbiting. This month is recognized for these tribes finally being able to pluck all the ripe strawberries from their swollen vines and enjoy the cool fruits under the heat of the sun. Sort of a humble pat on the back, a mid-way treat, a cigarette break, a pause, a beat in your tempo, a deep breath, a moment to close your eyes, lean your head back, wipe the sweat and just stand there for a while.

So, Karma. In a nutshell.

If you plant, if you work, if you water, if you gather... You'll receive the sweet taste of a fruity victory. If you don't, well...

What goes around comes around.
Repercussions are always there to remind you of the things you did or didn't do. Don't ever be fooled into thinking there isn't a cosmic cause and effect counterbalance. There is. It's a boomerang coming back at you with force 3 times harder than that of your throw, or if you're lucky, it's a nectarous little basket filled with the plump juicy berries you've been sheltering, feeding and cultivating to make your relaxation all the more fulfilling.

You are the captain of your own ship, as they say. Or farmer of your own field I suppose in this analogy.

So anyway, last month we planted our own row of strawberries in the garden. When we got them on sale from the local nursery they were weak, limp, and looked as though they were on their way to Hospice.

Regardless of their unfortunate demeanor, (looking like a wimpy pile of Lindsey Lohans who were damaged with daddy issues) we planted them anyway and in the warmth of the sun with fresh water to drink and Billy Joel serenading "Downeaster Alexa" on his piano from around the corner's iPod doc, our strawberries slowly began to perk up. 

Here we are a month later, and although our greenery hasn't started baring fruit yet, they have doubled in size and happiness. (As have our onions, squash, carrots, bell peppers, eggplant and of course beets) Quite a difference from the photo above taken from the same angle. Even the second raised bed which started as tiny seedlings are popping their heads up to take notice of the nice weather we've been having.

The moral of this story? Patience, love, and hard work.

“Should you fail to pilot your own ship, 

don't be surprised at what inappropriate port you find yourself docked.” 

-Tom Robbins, Jitterbug Perfume

Tommy Rotten: The Man Who Changed My Moon

You guys.

I waited 4 hours at the Tattered Cover Bookstore tonight to meet the most influential literary icon of my life.

As the clock drew closer to that 7 PM hour and I had been holding my espresso saturated self and my coveted 3rd row center aisle seat, I had to just get up and pee. It was like 6:53 PM and I figured if I ran back super fast and left my books on my chair to mark my territory, I could safely make it back in time for Tom Robbins to come strolling down the walkway and into my obsessive little world.

So I'm hauling ass around the corner doing the middle aged lady speed walk and I run right into the guy.

Like, I'm face to face.
With Tom Robbins.

The Universe purposely pushed on my bladder right at that exact moment so that it could align our paths. Tom Robbins is standing directly in front of me and I have this amazing opportunity to let him know how much he's changed my views about everything in the goddamn world and how much I love him and all I can squeak out is "Oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

Sunglasses. Of course. He was wearing shades, a striped jacket, neon shoes and a half smile. Yeah, we shared a smile. It was bliss. Not exactly how I was hoping our first meeting would go, but bliss nonetheless.

I'm sure he thought so as well.

He didn't return any actual words, but I'm almost 100% positive he fell in love a little bit.

So anyway, he read a few chapters from his new book Tibetan Peach Pie and I waited in line afterwards admiring his comic book socks and tried to ignore all the rest of the groupies.  It was one of the most magical nights of my life. He eventually signed my tore up copy of Still Life With Woodpecker and I did get to express to him how much he changed my life.

 (I'm even almost positive he heard me)

I'm telling you, it was a harmonic, star struck, promenade of a dream evening. Total perfection.

Now, with this new experience under my belt, I have taken this from it:

(I've said it before and I'll say it again)
When I can't see the moon I feel a bit lost. An invisible moon is an invisible me, I feel. 

When things around me are chaotic and temporal, it's calming to me to be able to look up and see my constant.
I feel connected.

The Moon is my crush. I wait all day for its visit. But he takes forever to get ready for a date. Like the world revolves around him or something. 

Right now, Mr Moon is coming back from invisibility and I feel that even a sliver is reassuring. 

New moons are a sort of blank page. It's a chance to think of exactly what it is I want to be drawing into my life. Preparation for the next cycle. 

It's a powerful opportunity to trust in the darkness no matter how uncomfortable and uncertain. It is a great reminder to have faith.

Because after all, according to the man himself:

“There are essential and inessential insanities. The later are solar in character, the former are linked to the moon.” 

Contents Under Pressure

Here's the thing about pressure: it will either make you thrive or implode. Either way you'll get a definite ending.

We've bought a house and a car within 1 week of each other. The house and all the stress that comes along with closing the deal is enough to drive someone a little bonkers anyway, but I've also thrown in a new stick shift which I have no idea how to drive and I've spent the last week screaming at my clutch and honking my horn at myself.

That same week, my employers sold our company and now we're gearing up for a remodel and will be shut down for 3 weeks. My daughter is sick with bronchitis, my dog is going blind, my husband needs a hair cut, and I could use a cocktail.

In addition, California is now only a rock's skip away! In two short weeks, Kalynn and I will be flying over our little world of beautiful hectnicity (hecticness? Are these words?) to escape for a week of sunshine and total lack of responsibility. The week of our return, we'll be closing on our new house and starting our own little version of the American dream, followed by our 3rd marriage anniversary, Jason's 35th birthday, an amazing Mother's Day weekend with my mom complete with a show by one of my very favorite bands The Dandy Warhols, and then straight to a book signing by soul mate of an author Tom Robbins at a bookstore which was a visiting place on my Colorado Bucket List from a few months back.

I mean, Jesus Christ.

I need to redirect some of this pressure.
My dear Luna has filled up and is deflating once again drawing a close to the 3rd quarter and moving along into the 4th.
I often take my cue from the Moon.
In football, as I've learned working in a sports bar the last year and a half, the 4th quarter isn't much of a time for slacking. The 4th quarter is a time to gather your shit and make sure you leave no room for things to creep up behind you. It's an important time to be alert and on your A game.

Which is why it makes no since that tonight I'm planning on grabbing a 6 pack of good beer and drowning in my couch watching the new Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon.

So in conclusion, I have no cute craft or recipe or photo shoot or advice. I just wanted to throw a tiny little update out here to explain why I've been on a brief Rocky Mountain Hiatus.
(Did you see what I did there?)

Love to all,
-Krista

Rendezvous At Meet Up Point

The thing about blogging is that it takes a lot of effort. And networking. And Time.
While this year has been great for me at The Brighter Writer as far as exposure, sponsors, and luck of the draw, I'm certainly not the world's most professional social media influence. I hear constantly about blogging conferences, seminars, and opportunities but I rarely take advantage of them. I read the advice columns about the importance of consistent writing but I just don't have the time or energy to write as much as I'd sometimes like to.

But I do just fine.

I'm very happy with my little community of readers.

And I thank the people who constantly show up to read what I have to say.

This week I'm trying something different.

It seems as though the pages in which I subscribe are all participating in NaBloPoMo. I can't write every single day for a month. I just can't. And I can't imagine anyone would want to read a post where I was really reaching for a subject. I would think after a few weeks I would just run out of things to write about. Which is why, I suppose, I've been reading all these articles lately from my fellow bloggers along the lines of "100 topics for writer's block" or "50 ideas to get your blog started" or "creative writing jump starts..." You get the idea.

Out of complete curiosity, I read one of these lists and it was totally not my cup of tea. (Idea 27: Write about the last thing that made you cry??? What the hell?!!!)

However one of them took me to the link of a photo challenge. This totally insane woman took a photograph every hour on the waking hour, for an entire year. Partly for her readers who like to see how other people live, and also to just have a journal to look back on some day.

I won't be doing that either.

But I thought it might be fun to try it for a day.

I set my alarm for every hour on the hour, and wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, will be photographed.

So in the words of Pee Wee Herman, "Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer?"

 6AM: I meet up with this stud, Mr. Coffee, and we fall deeply in love. 

7AM: Everyone in the house is physically awake yet mentally still asleep. It's still quiet enough to get a little work done. Today's essay: The Brotherhood Of The Traveling Unicorn (final draft).

8AM: I listen to my husband sing a nice little homemade song about how much he enjoys food ("♪♫ Oh my God, I love food so muuuuuch, ♪♫ I love the way it tastes in my moooouth and I wish I could just eat all the tiiiiiime...♪♫") and an encore about how today is definitely a hat day while he tries to fix his hair. Kalynn and I eat the breakfast casserole which is freshly out of the oven. 

9AM: I (along with my entourage) listen (and dance around) to our favorite Pandora station while I put on my makeup. 

10AM: We're roaming around Target, checking out the toy section, making a mental note of our list for Santa.

11AM: Kalynn makes the executive decision of being this hour's photographer since she already has possession of my phone.  In true Marie Antoinette form, she instructs me to smile and then cuts off my head. 

12PM: We make our way downtown to the Lincoln Center to buy tickets for Kalynn's performance in the upcoming Nutcracker ballet. The door is open so we pop our heads in and check out where she will grace the stage as the cutest and most talented snowflake that ever lived. 

1PM: With half the day successfully behind us and nap time creeping up fast, we take a few minutes to construct and jump in the world's largest leaf pile just outside our building. 

2PM: It's time for my break. And by break I mean time to fold the laundry, wash the dishes, prepare dinner and pick up the living room. It is also the hour when I become queen of the creeper club and spy on my baby and her cuteness.

3PM: Both of my children are freshly awake with emotions deeply rooted in codependency. Everyone wants soy milk and a snuggle from Mommy and nothing else will substitute. 

4PM: Time to clean out the car. I'm on fruit-bar-wrapper patrol while Kalynn mans the camera. 

5PM: Jason is home! And he brought Happy hour with him!

6PM: Turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, stuffing, green bean casserole and brown sugar sweet potato pie.

7PM: There are 2 things to remember about the gym: #1 Summer bodies are made in the Winter and #2 no matter how slow you go, you're still lapping everybody on the couch.

8PM: Bedtime for Kalynn. But first, snuggles with Daddy in the book nook.

9PM: Wine and my pup-doo. 

10PM: Goonies never say die!

10PM: Tomorrow night there is a full Moon in Taurus and a meteor shower shining from the constellation Leo. The combination of being a Leo myself and having an influential Taurus in my life, it kind of makes it feel like this particular full moon is my very own. The Universe is apparently on our side right now. 

There you have an average day in the life of Me.  Goodnight!

The Dark Side Of The Moon

Sunday is a new moon.

Not just any new moon but it is also a hybrid eclipse. There have been just shy of 12,000 eclipses recorded in history and under 5% of them have been hybrid. This means the smooshing of 2 separate kinds of eclipses. The first, a traditional annular eclipse which gives the super cool "Ring of Fire" around the Sun. The second is a total solar eclipse which means the Moon will completely cover the Sun for a very brief period of time.

The World's most tragic and beautiful love story is once again going to play out high in the sky above all of our heads.
The Sun and the Moon constantly chasing one another around and around, year after year, decade after decade, century after century, almost always missing each other. But every once in a great while, they finally catch up. They have such a brief moment to hug, to hold one lingering kiss, as the entire Universe stops to watch.

But just like that, it's over.

Not by their own accord, but because a force greater than their own says it must be so.
They hold on as long as they can until the pull is so great they have to let go.
And the chase continues.
Until the next time.

All you East coasters out there will be able to see this around 6:30 in the morning but the rest of us in middle America and on the West coast will miss it.

Usually new moons are what I imagine as a "resting moon." It's a time for the Moon to take a break. To start fresh. To let it go for a while.

And if the Moon can, then I can too.

But this lunar show is resonating a different feeling inside me. I don't feel new. I feel dark.

New moons are supposed to be a great beginning, but when I can't see the moon I feel a bit lost.

An invisible moon is an invisible me, I feel.

When things around me are chaotic and temporal it's calming to me to be able to look up and see my constant.
I feel connected.
Everyone has their introverted days I suppose, the Moon is allowed to be empty every once in a while. But if it is true that you are who you hang around, I feel left behind in the void.

The Moon is my crush. I wait all day for its visit.

Even a sliver is reassuring. 

So though he may be taking some time for himself, I'll spend my nights missing him and knowing in my heart that he'll be back in a few days for me.

Everyone needs occasional alone time.

I guess.

New moons are a sort of blank page. It's a chance to think of exactly what it is I want to be drawing into my life. Preparation for the next cycle. 

It's a powerful opportunity to trust in the darkness no matter how uncomfortable and uncertain. 

It is a great reminder to have faith.

La Tour Eiffel

As an American, I see the Eiffel Tower everywhere. 

Even in America. 

I think it's probably as equal in popularity as our own Statue of Liberty or Hollywood sign as far as pop culture symbols go. 

In every movie and television show which visits Paris, or anywhere in France for that matter, the Eiffel Tower makes at least a quick cameo. It's not just France either, I suppose. When anyone visits anywhere in Europe, it usually isn't the Tower of Pisa or Big Ben or even the Coliseum that is publicized. Almost always, it's this gorgeous Iron Lady.

We live in a world where each big city is usually defined by one particular icon, and it's quite possible that the Tour Eiffel was just so beautiful and original, it kicked off the trend. It doesn't surprise me that every other city in the world wanted something this monumental. Whether France wanted competition or not, many have tried to make something as alluring as the Grande Dame herself, but it is truly hard to compare.

Construction on the tower began in 1887 for the purpose of being the entrance arch to the 1889 World's Fair. Back then, the World's Fair was basically an exhibition of all things technological. It gave a chance for countries all over the world to show off and trade industrialized inventions and innovations. Although steel was the up and coming metal at the time for engineers, Gustav Eiffel stuck to his guns and used very pure wrought iron instead. For one, wrought iron is extremely strong. For two, it is much lighter than steel, so dismantling of the tower after the finish of the fair would be much easier.

This cutting edge tower was to be the tallest and most magnificent in the world, beating out the Washington Monument and the Cologne Cathedral for the title. But this structure wasn't to salute a leader or give thanks to God, this tower was strictly a tourist attraction.

The idea caught some slack at first by a group of cranky artists who wanted to rage against the machine. They completely hated the concept of this giant metal erection bombarding their skyline. But eventually, they were overruled and construction marched forward.    

This particular World's Fair happened to celebrate the centennial of the French Revolution. France wanted to show the World that it was now the most contemporary, most advanced, and that it was the best. 

But, it didn't want to spend a lot of money in the process.

Mr. Eiffel (businessman extraordinaire) was so confident in the tower devised by his engineering team, he told the French government that if they would pay him just a small commission to build it, and give him a promise of at least 20 years to make his money back, he would raise the funds of the construction on his own. Every last dime.

And although they laughed him off the Champ de Mars, they agreed.

So because he paid for it outright selling stocks to investors, every penny that was brought in by it went straight to his pockets.

Any guesses of how long it took to make his money back? 5 years? 10 years?

Oh, no, no. 

It took only 6 months.  

Who do you think was laughing now? Ol' Mr. Eiffel found himself to be a very rich man.

I'm telling you, when our cab driver turned the corner and I laid eyes on the tower up close for the first time, I almost cried. The way it takes command of the skyline is a hard concept to grasp unless you're there to see it for yourself, but it is impressive and absolute. To say the least.  

I know it's rude to kiss and tell, but here's a view I took right up her skirt.

There are thousands of skyscrapers in the world today, but the way this one was built with the wide base, the very narrow tip and the intricate lattice wrought iron work it is very stable against attacks from the wind. It doesn't blow it over, it just moves right through it.

One of the things that I hadn't counted on awing me so much was how large the 4 reliefs were. The fe-fi-fo-fumness of them had a great way of making me feel incredibly insignificant. One foot was so big, there was a restaurant in its toes. An ant at a picnic would have felt more powerful than I did.

Just like we did with the Palace of Versailles, our group had purchased "skip the line" tickets prior to our visit. I don't even know how long it would have taken to get in. Hours I'm sure. But when they say "skip the line," they really mean it. Of course, we had to enter through a metal detector and security guarded entrance, but there wasn't anyone ahead of us or behind us. We were like VIPs and our tickets were specifically timed for sunset. It just can't be beat.

This was our tour guide but her name escapes me. She was the cutest little thing from Ireland and she was in Paris paying her way through a study abroad program (the Iron Lady?! What a broad to study!!) She knew so much information in that head of hers, I could barely keep up. She was awesome and truly made our trip even more amazing.

The view of the green space called Champs de Mars is on the Northwest side of the tower. The wide flat building at the end of the green, the Ecole Militaire, is the military school in Paris and was attended by Napoleon Bonaparte himself.  The Champs de Mars was originally made for practicing military drills and was later used for all of the Paris hosted World Fairs.

The lonely skyscraper in the background is the Montparnasse Tower. It was built in the late 60s and early 70s as the beginning of what would have been a skyline to rival New York City's. It was the tallest cloud toucher in France. But as soon as it was completed, Parisians threw such a giant temper tantrum, there was an immediate law passed saying that no building could ever be built over 7 stories within city limits. Sadly, I do have to agree with the Parisians, it looks completely out of place.

There is a restaurant on the very top of Montparnasse, and I hear it thinks itself as the most beautiful view in Paris. Probably because it can't see itself.

 In 2008 it was voted the second ugliest building in the world. Because the Eiffel Tower was constructed elsewhere and then put together on site, perhaps it was the original IKEA furniture and Montparnasse was the box it came out of.

The opposite Southeast side of the Tower you can see the Trocadero, site of the Palais de Chaillot. I don't know a lot about it other than it has an amazing view of the tower from the steps and that there is an outstanding creperie stand to the left of the fountain where you can get the best Nutella crepes on the planet. I'm not sure where I was when she was explaining this place to us, but I missed the memo. I know this is where the battle of Trocadero was won from Spain, that now there is a gorgeous garden out front, and that the fountain smells just as bad as the ones in Versailles.

Other than that, I know it's super pretty.

Those are skyscrapers in the background but they are technically outside city limits so they can get away with being there.

As the sun started to set, you could see the gold starting to drape across the entire city. One of the best sights from the top is of the golden Dome des Invalides. It it one of 7 buildings in a complex of historical military buildings and serves as a hospital and nursing home for war veterans. It also houses Napoleon's tomb along with other French military heroes.

It had been cloudy all afternoon, so we all assumed we would miss the sunset we were promised. But literally 10 minutes before the sun started sinking, the entire sky cleared up like a genie had snapped her fingers and wished it for us. Unbelievable.

The view from up there was like being in heaven. Looking down on every beautiful building we had seen and learned about during our short visit was like a dream. To see them all at once, with the light of the sun in front, and the glow of the moon in the back was indescribable. I didn't know if I should laugh, cry or just do nothing.

So I just did nothing.
Except look.
And make pictures.

At this point we had only taken the elevator to the second floor. We did make it to the top eventually, but I didn't stay very long. I did it so I could say I did it. But really, I had seen what I needed to see.

Even the Arc de Triomphe was dressed up in his finest glow.

On New Years Eve 1999, the Eiffel Tower hosted a millennium party that would have impressed the gods. 20,000 flashing lights were placed up and down the iron lattice and fireworks were set off all over the building. After the celebration was over, the city decided to keep the lights up and they're now set to go off on the hour from 10pm- midnight. We happened to be on the second floor at 10 pm when they went off, so I leaned over backwards as far as my little torso would let me and I grabbed this 10 second clip before my brain screamed at me to keep both feet on the ground!

Originally, the tower has been sentenced to a death after only 20 years. But the cultural iconization and global impact of it forced them to drop the charges instead of the guillotine and it has had a permanent home in Paris ever since.

Says Roland Barthes about the tower: "it will be there, connecting me above Paris to each of my friends that I know are seeing it."
I agree with that. It's sort of like Paris' personal little moon. And we all know how I feel about the moon...