En Garde! (Or Not)

I love days when I feel like I have a serious reason to be tired. I like feeling fatigued because of hard work, a day with blood, sweat and sore muscles. Today was one of those days. My normal job tasks and chores can't be done, because there is a group in camp this week who'd just undo everything I did (which was yesterday: a giant exercise in futility). So today I hopped onto other tasks. After our meeting this morning I did some inventory for Matt W., then headed out into the far pasture with Hampton to do some fencing (by fencing I don't mean the kind where you yell "En Garde!" and then perry. perry thrust. I mean the kind that is used to keep livestock within a confined area) where the horses keep getting out. I have never put up fence before and this is what I can now tell you: it is hard ass work. The spools of fencing weigh about 80 lbs to start with, and walking one along through the woods and trying to unspool it is not too much fun. As it was nearly 80 out today I was wearing capris...not good pants to fence in. The lower half of my legs are red and scabbed from the briars and trees I was pushing through. I managed to hit my thumb with a hammer while nailing in a staple, which did cause me to curse loudly. I also used a chain saw for the first time in a long time today...all in all it made for a pretty sweet experience. Any time work makes me feel a little more bad ass I'm all for it.

I also got my first try running the giant swing and managed to also be injured my first go. I was stopping kids (from behind, where the edge of the platform is not met with just air but is pretty even with at least some ground) and they were going faster than I expected so when I grabbed the chains to stop them they lifted me up and out and I fell really, really hard on my left side. (Good thing it was left; if it'd been my right chances are my shoulder would have completely popped out for the 3rd time) I laid there for 5 seconds to get my bearings before I got up. My hip hurts like crazy. Ouch. Sweet bruises for the day? check. Scared the crap out of Matt K doing it.
Finished that with enough time to do another two hours of fencing. I can't really lift my left arm very well it's so tired. Anyway, I'm going to bed. I loved today. I like you, tired for a reason.

Dirty Mirrors

This first struck me on Monday and thought about it for a bit today. Don't know why, because my thoughts haven't progressed from their state yesterday to where they are at the moment, but sometimes stewing doesn't change the makeup of a fact, it only distills it.
We were cleaning Cedar yesterday and our friend/boss Shaunna joined the funterns for the late afternoon. She was cleaning mirrors in the bath house and would spray and wipe, then step back and to the side and stare. Julie asked why.
"Sometimes it's the only way to see where the marks are; from straight ahead they often don't show up."
That little interaction got me thinking how applicable that is--how sometimes we work so hard on the blemishes we do see and, when they are eradicated, we consider ourselves victorious over the less than perfect parts of us. It is only when we step back and to the side, to the view of another, when we see all the points we missed. We spent the time we had on the points that didn't matter.
Sometimes we want so badly to be a better us that we only deal with the marks blocking our view of ourselves.
Does that make sense?

Rock Star

This is the rock star horse with the sweet 80's hair. My friend Nate suggested we name him Michael Bolton, and we would always refer to him by his full name. This is funny, but fear most 15 year olds wouldn't get it. He's still living here with no name. Poor rock star. But what great hair.

What's Your 20?

I'm hosting but there's nothing for me to do at the moment but sit in the office and wait for the trickle of keys and radios to return. So I started making a list. I have no idea why this is the list. It has no point. But I was mildly entertained making it.

Similes to Avoid When Professing Your Love for Someone:

Veal
A stapler
Cheese
Winches
Polyester Clothing
A paper cut
A squeegee
Meatloaf (the food and the singer)
Allergies
Red Wine on a White Carpet
Rodents
Spanish Influenza
Darfur
Fire Hydrant
Tapioca
Teetotalers
Hornets
Community Baths
The Bolsheviks

Parasites
Any fitness videos
BBQ spare ribs
Vinyl Flooring
Victorian Ideals
Pigeons
Lead based paint



Similes That May Actually Work:

Flav-O-Ice
Tetris

Trampoline

That last post was pretty crappy and I know it. I'm sorry. I have little thoughts to say and then lose them. I'm about to head to work for my first weekend hosting by myself. I'm not nervous or overwhelmed, but I feel sort of bla so that doesn't help much.
The DC trip still has left much rolling in my head. Two weeks from today I'll be up in Syracuse for the wedding of my dear friend Dylan. The summer will be here all too soon and life just spirals along. It's like that moment when you are jumping on a trampoline and you reach the peak of your jump and the world seems to freeze--to stop--right there. You know it's not true, know that you'll go flying down again to hit that black mat and the process will repeat at a speed faster than you expect, but in that one frozen second you know exactly where you are.
I'm needing my solitude lately. Blips of craving company, but mostly I've needed to sit in silence.
Lastly:
We got a new horse here who needs a good rock star name that won't scare children. He's tan with this ridiculously long, curly, bright blond mane. Think Dee Snider from Twisted Sister hair. Brett from Poison hair. Got that picture? Any name suggestions?

Life as a Movie Soundtrack

I've seen this around in the flotsam and jetsam of the ether between myspace and the rest of the world wide web, and finally decided, for lack of a better post, to do it too. For this I credit Murphy and Leslie. I decided to add some comments on the songs as well, to fill it out a bit. You know how I love my words and all. (The way it works is to put the iPod on shuffle and write whatever song comes up for that category. Highly scientific.)

Opening Credits: Is it the Sun?—Jackopierce
(I first heard of JP back in high school from my friend Matt V. I got their double live CD back then and was saddened by news of their breakup in the late nineties. A quintessential east Texas sound. I'd say this is a pretty good opening credits song. Well done, iPod.)

Waking Up: Fu-Ge-La—The Fugees
(Another album from high school that still finds rotation. I mean who didn't own "The Score" by the Fugees who is anywhere near my age? Don't know if I want to wake up to Pras, Wyclef and Lauryn but I guess it could be worse)

First Day of School: Party Generation—Dar Williams
(Actually a very fitting song. It's about a guy who turns 34 and decides he wants to party and be young again and ends up with a 40 of malt liquor at a playground and then finds his way to a college party. "Tonight we're gonna be the party/we will party all night long/we are the party generation/you were the best, but we'll survive/party on!" Sounds like much of college to me... )

Falling in Love: Take Me or Leave Me—RENT Broadway soundtrack
(Oh jeez. I don't have the balls to sing a song like that to a boyfriend. I'm not nearly as confident as this requires. What a gutsy statement and what a simply TOUGH song to sing. If I were to sing it, I'd be JoAnne long before I was Maureen)

Fight Song: Hurricane—Bob Dylan
(Not really a fight song per se. It is about a fighter and a fight, but not the song I'd put on before I went paddling or something akin to kicking ones opponent in the nether regions. I need more beat, or wailing guitars, or soaring choruses. Like a "Living on a Prayer" or "Express Yourself" sort of song.)

Breaking Up: One Moment More—Mindy Smith
(It works perfectly for a breakup song. The chorus is, "Oh please don't go/let me have you just one moment more/oh all I need/all I want is just one moment more" until you find out that the song is about her mother dying of cancer and then you feel guilty for even thinking about something like a breakup when this girl is talking about losing her mom and saying goodbye to her and then you feel like a schmuck. Thanks for the guilt complex, iPod. )

Prom: Rehab—Amy Winehouse
(Glad this came up! This is a new favorite. As a prom song it'd would never pass a panel of teachers as theme but it'd sure be fun to dance to. "I didn't get a lot of your class/but I know it don't come in a shot glass...")

Life: You're Stronger Than Me—Patsy Cline
(I don't know what "Life" as a category means exactly, but I bet this isn't the prime song for it. Patsy is from Winchester, VA so she gets points for local pride, even if she died a good 20-some years before my birth. Patsy reminds me of driving around in Abby's car in college, listening to "Walkin' After Midnight". She had a crush on a guy who liked Patsy, so she was playing Patsy a lot at the time. )

Driving: Going to California—Led Zeppelin
(Only a few short years ago I swore I'd never like Zeppelin. Woops. This is one of my favorites though. It's a fitting driving song, for those slower moments, with a sense of movement, of fresh starts. Maybe not the perfect driving song, but this is my iPod on shuffle. This is how we roll.)

Flashback: Sixteen, Maybe Less—Calexico and Iron & Wine
(This was an amazing fit to show up. #1 it is simply a great song. I highly recommend the whole EP. #2 the song is about a flashback to an old love, about trying to meet up again and missing each other and wondering all these years later. "I met my wife at a party where I drank too much/My son is married and tells me we don't talk enough/Call it predictable yesterday my dream was of you.")

Getting Back Together: Must Be Dreaming—Frou Frou
(I have no idea what she's actually saying in this song except, "I must be dreaming or we're onto something/I must be dreaming for I don't fall in love this lawlessly" and then something really high and electronic..al. I guess it works then! Thanks, Imogen. You rule in your European chicness.)

Wedding: Love Me Like a Man—Eddie From Ohio
(I would pay money to go to the wedding where this song was played. That'd be so great. Holy crap. I mean with lines like, "They all want me to rock them like my back ain't go no bones/I want a man to rock me like my backbone was his own..." that would be one speechless crowd at a wedding. Hmm...
It was made famous by Bonnie Raitt but EFO does such a sweet blusey cover of it. )

Party: Ramblin' Man—Allman Brothers Band
(Remember, I went to hippie college; this was played at parties. Or at Taps, or resident favorite skeezy townie bar/remodeled funeral home. Seriously. Frankly this is a perfect song to come up. Steve Jobs has sabotaged my technology.)

Birth of a Child: I'll Say I'm Sorry Now—Shawn Colvin
(What a friggin' depressing song to come up in this category! Holy crap! I'm confident that I don't really want children when the time comes, but if this is the song that is to describe my parenting emotions at the time of birth then I KNOW I shouldn't have kids. "For all the bye and bye/And hard as we try/The bow breaks and the cradle falls/For everything I do/That will tear at you/Let me say I'm sorry now" I need a Zyban and a whiskey after a song like that. Jeez. )


Death Scene: Please Don't Bury Me—John Prine
(Laughed out loud when this came through the headphones. This is the song it grabbed? Hilarious. Seriously. The first two lines, "Woke up this morning, put on my slippers/walked in the kitchen and died..." and it's about the dispersant of his possessions. It's fairly whimsical. Like giving his arms to Venus D'Milo, or giving his ears to the deaf if they don't mind the size. Years ago I was on a camping trip with my boyfriend at the time and we ended up playing a concert for a whole campground (long story) but this was one of the songs we played. We were both John Prine fans independent of each other. Needless to say, it was true love.)

Ending Credits: Senorita—Justin Timberlake
(I sure as heck JT sings my ending credits! I have nothing really to say about this song, except that the guys and girls parts at the end always reminds me of Chris Girardi. I'm not sure why, but he's the face I see.)

Mile Wide and an Inch Deep, part 4

This is the final installment in the adventures of the week. This one has lots of photos. Cheer.
My roommates meet me at my parents house around noon after the "lovely" weather allowed them to have some sweet driving time. In freezing rain and wind. Nice first impression, VA. We seriously discuss not driving to the city, but solider on. Take the metro into Union Station, grab burritos and head to the US Capitol, a short walk away. A short walk when it's nice out. When the freezing rain is blowing sideways you might as well feel like you are walking to Nepal. Tried to talk our way into eating the burritos under the cover of the Capitol steps but no go. Roomates and burritos:

Gosh they just look so warm and happy. Like they could feel their fingers.

After the Capitol we run into the Botanical Gardens to warm up (beautiful spot BTW) and then catch the metro at the Smithsonian stop for a trip out to LoCo for the "Spooner's Big Din" thrown by my sweet friends. We stop at Wegmans on the way out, because any excuse to stop at Wegman's is completely justified. Then to Jake and Carly's where we were the guests of honor! Jenny, L-Kush and Doug, JuJu (fitting right in!) and the Hatch. Love 'em.
Newly engaged Mark and Amber ('Mamber?) and the always lovely Amy Jones, who is the best 'Scene It' player this side of the Mississippi. It was a grreeeat dinner, but the snow on the way out made for fun driving.

We stayed with my friend Abby just north of Georgetown for the weekend and tried to start our Saturday early. We headed down to the Mall, as it was sunny and the day looked promising. And then we were stuck in the middle of a GIANT protest. Like tens of thousands of people protest. And the subsequent anti-protest. Overwhelming and absolutely hilarious. Finally made it to the monuments. See? Photo evidence:

We went to Lincoln, Korean, WWII, saw Jefferson from a distance, Washington, the White House, the Nat'l History Museum to see the "big effin' dinosaurs" (thank you Abby) and so we could feel our faces again. Then onto Metro for a trip to NW for lunch and the National Cathedral, then the bus down Embassy Row to Dupont Circle for a movie (we needed to sit, warm up and vedge) before we finally met up with the jerks who'd been calling me all day. I won't name names, but see below and then add Abby:
Then we left and met up with Kristina for falafels at the famed Amsterdam Falafel Shop in Adams-Morgan, then got together with Mark, Amber, Brandt, Amelia and the gang for a QUIET evening. Sitting down. That broke up around 10:30, as they wanted to go to a dance club and we were having problems staying awake. And were drinking coffee. Back to the insanity of the 30 college friends across the street, where roomates went back to Abby's and I stayed to try to talk to people who'd been revelling since noon. I saw faces I hadn't seen in person in 6 years. It was both surreal and superb. Like a vivid and fantastical dream. It really was a fun, fun night. Joyce deserves major props for the sweet shirts. I love groups that match.
Murphy and Spooner, as always. SPD 2k7 has redeemed all other SPD's in my mind. I thank you, Murph. Your Irishness has blessed me.

Mile Wide and an Inch Deep, part 3

Story #3:
I was driving Nathan's jeep to Natalie's house, to spend the afternoon with her and have the chance to see Michelle, my old YL leader, and her son Dylan. I was nervous about seeing Natalie; I can't stand to see people I love in pain, or looking frail. I lose words. I don't know what to do with my hands.
I exit off rt 7 to turn onto 287 when Nathan's jeep just shuts off. And won't restart. And smoke is pouring from under the hood. crap. Immediately this nice old man in a Cadillac comes over and looks at it, points out the obvious overheating/leaking, and offers me a ride into town for a towtruck. This is in my hometown, which until a few years ago only had one stoplight. It is a very small town and I was basically born and raised there. This first became evident when in the two minute drive I had with this guy we discovered he knew my older sister, was friends with my mom (who has a different last name than me) and had actually been to my house when I was a kid. He drops me off at Bridge's towing in downtown. I go in and talk to Mrs. Bridges, who used to be my favorite nurse and the mother of a schoolmate of mine from K through 5. While I'm waiting another kid from elementary school walks in the front door. We say hello. Oh jeez again. A State Trooper sitting in the shop asks where the jeep is. I tell him and he tells me I need to move it or it might get towed. I tell him I'm by myself, it won't start and I'm strong but can't push it and steer at the same time.
Next thing I know I'm riding in the front seat of his patrol car, on our way back to the jeep. That thing has got quite the pickup. We get back to the jeep and he thinks its gross outside so instead of getting out to push me, he thinks it'll be better if he just rams me off the side of the road. Gently. So I'm sitting in the jeep in neutral with no power steering, cranking the wheel all the way to the right and laughing so hard I can't breathe while State Trooper man is positioning his patrol car to ram me repeatedly. His lights are blaring and he's just ramming me. Seriously.
I call a tow truck and who comes but the guy who now owns the shop, yet another person from ELEMENTARY SCHOOL (now my school was 100 kids in K-5. total. 100 kids.) so I ride with him back to the shop with the jeep and we do some catching up. Back at the shop I talk to his mom for ten minutes. Such a bizarre day at this point.
Natalie ends up picking me up (even though she's not supposed to be driving) and it was a hard time for me. I was distracted by the jeep events and then seeing her like that...she just looks smaller. And she's already so small. My heart sort of feels itchy at it all.
Needless to say I didn't get to Charlottesville to see Seth and Ellen, as the car I had was at the shop. Nathan was cool about it; apparently the jeep had that problem previously. Woops.

Mile Wide and an Inch Deep, part 2

Story #2:
After getting picked up at BWI by the trio of Hatch, Mandy and Sarah, I was dropped off at Nathan's to borrow his mid-90s green Cherokee. He rarely drives so it was very kind of him to let me borrow it. Then the visits started--straight to my parent's house for a night of music and conversations, then to Hatcher's for our tradition of staying up much too late talking about things that are much too deep, the sorts that only come out with fatigue and comfort.
Wednesday morning I went shopping and spent too much money (but J.Crew jeans were on sale for like $35. I mean, they make it look like I have some semblance of an ass, are long enough for my legs and fit me well. I'll take 'em for $35!) then over to my mom's to spend time with my sister, who wasn't feeling well. We goofed with the camera. Here is normal:

Here is not so normal...

Staring contest. You win, you always do...And then it was over to Megan and Matt's for a great evening of catching up with two of my oldest friends. Their daughter Ella is three now and a wonder; Sophie is the newest and was asleep the whole time. Yet to meet her, but I bet she's already smarter than me. The time I have with them is precious and dear.
Then it was a quick drive to Dave and Shelby's, where there was a poker game in full swing. I quickly burned through my five dollar buy in, because I was distracted by the conversations...and by my crappy hands. So I hung outside with Dave and Jeff and the bonfire. Crashed there around 1 am, then Thursday morning I stopped by camp to catch up with the ol' boss, Anna, and get the goods and gossip in the world of AL. And then the fun happened...

Mile Wide and an Inch Deep, part 1

This is the replay of the week that found me sleeping in 5 different places in six nights. My back now hates me but the trip was well worth it. As it'll take forever to tell the story as one whole event, we'll (and by that I mean I) will break it down into little fluffy puff nibblin' size.
Story #1:
Alana graciously offers to drive me to the airport in Charlotte, as it is a one way flight and driving myself would be sort of stupid. But her car wants to blow up, and mine has a habit of not going. So I decide to rent one. A cheap one. A little, tin can, put your legs through the floor to make it go kind of car. We are both very, very excited about our supercompact adventure mobile. But the cute boy at Avis gives us a free upgrade to the Ford Taurus, which the both of us can't stop giggling about. Us in our big green Taurus. So 9pm on Monday we had out for Charlotte to go stay with Alana's friend Blackwell before I have to be at the airport at, oh 7am.
We're cruising along at a crisp 84 when we see the car. The cop car. And the lights. And the pulling over of the champion green Taurus. And the explaining of the rental. And then...
The ticket. And the mandatory court appearance. And the incredibly good sportsmanship of Alana. I think the very loud blaring of Wyclef may have added a few miles to our speed. Whoops.

Caught my flight from Charlotte to ATL no problem, though I slept that entire 40 minute flight. I may drooled I was so out of it. Two hour layover in the ATL before catching a very full plane to Baltimore, where Hatcher graciously picked me up (it's over an hour from her house. Note the kindness of her friendship. Bask in the warmth. I do.) and brought along two surprise guests of Mandy and Sarah, two of our old high school girls home from college on spring break. What a friggin' treat.

More tomorrow...when I actually get there....

Oh Heavenly Day

Feel the need to tell you about mi day...it was a beaut. Sounds like I'm talking about a fish, but oh well.
Worked until close to 1am so I took the liberty of sleeping in late. With the time change, that was me gettin' up at the crack o' noon. I can sleep a whole lot later when there isn't construction right outside my window starting at 8am everyday...wow...
It had to be close to 70 and cloudless today, and suddenly everything felt possible. I love spring.
Met up with the always delightful duo of Matt Hypes and Kari Burgess at the Asheville staple of Early Girl Eatery for a very late lunch and great convo. How I love Early Girl and all the A-town places of organic/free-range/locally grown goodness. Bid goodbye to the friends, who unfortunately had to skedaddle back up to the Rockbridge and I headed to Malaprops for some old fashioned book shopping. Bought the most recent from Erik Larson (of "Devil in the White City") called "Thunderstruck" which I'm quite excited about, "The Marriage of Sticks" by Jonathan Carroll and "What We Believe But Cannot Prove", a collection of essays by "today's leading thinkers", including Jared Diamond and Ian McEwan. Oh I needed new reads. They'll be great for the impending trip. Everyone downtown was smiling and even more friendly than normal; I kept expecting whole sidewalks of strangers to break out in song and dance.
After walking around downtown a bit more I hopped back in the 'Roo and headed over to Alana's house, where she was sitting out in the sunshine in train overalls, painting three rocking chairs a bright shade of red. I did my part by laying on a beach towel and petting her dog. She is kind enough to be chaperoning me to Charlotte tomorrow night so we were shoring up plans. As the day wore on we moved to the back yard, where I helped her scrape paint off a large old porch swing (I managed to get green paint chips in my eye. Way to go, Spooner) and chase her dog when she took to wandering.
I headed back to the Shady with enough time to shower, finish up my bible study and pop back into the car to meet up with the girls at Kristen and Beth's, then back home to finalize all my lists, do lots of laundry and get twitchy excited.
---AND---
I finally bought a new camera charger this weekend, so my little elph, which has been out of commission since my UK trip last April, is back in the game! That means more photos! I know J.Mo is cheering...she hates all these words.

Last Night's Spangles and Yesterday's Pearls

Over two years ago I wrote this post, about a word my friend got while praying for me. If you don't feel like reading it, the gist was identifying that oftentimes I live life at arm's length and my hope back then was to learn to change. What's remarkable in a way is that is, almost verbatim, what I'd write today; that same hope, that same sincere desire to change, and that same frustration at not knowing how to go about it. Living behind the bulletproof plexiglass of complexes and pride; one can see in, but they can't get close.

Every fight or disagreement (however severe or minor) I'm in I automatically assume that the other person is, or will be, finished with me. They'll leave; throw up hands and surrender. That that relationship is done. And I go through a period of wondering how and if I can get by without them, and how much I miss them. If I survive and aren't incapacitated, then I consider it an accomplishment of sorts. Like I didn't "let" my love for the person cripple me. This is true with both friendships and relationships. It's like a sick validation for my arm's length from life.
Today this is what is crippling me; this realization that this is my unconscious reaction to conflict within the important relationships in my life. What a sad and lonely place.
I'm sure the knee jerk “Oh, it's what happens to children of divorce” crap comes in but I'd like to not be a statistic for a moment. It does nothing to improve anything, really. I so desperately want to change.

It's a strange thing to be thinking about at this sunny and optimistic point in my life, but it is of the sort that rises in the stillness of repetitive tasking.

Funniest Directions Ever

The trip to DC, et al is finally coming together and the pieces are fitting wonderfully! Next Thursday I'm meeting up in Charlottsville with my roommates and we're hanging out with the delightful Ellen and this guy, Seth, who one of my oldest friends. I emailed him to get directions to his new apartment and here's a bit of the email. What a nut.

"Take 64 East Towards Richmond: Away from most of the hippies
Go about 6 miles and take exit 124, 250 North, slightly closer to hippies
Go up hill, pass liberal hippies on the corner next to hippy store: BP Fuels
Go down hill, pass liberal hippy store, heavy with Brooks Brothers Clothes: Good Will.

If you go over a bridge that is named after a hippy, you have gone too far.
After taking a right on to the road that is way too descriptive for it own good: obviously a ploy by hippies to make sure they no one scrapes their knee on the STONEY POINT,
Make your first right on to the road named after the hippy in your liberal family who taught at the bleeding heart university in this town: Fontana.
After getting onto Fontana, if you make your first right you will end up in the nicest ghetto in the Universe. Don't go in there. You will be shot with diamond bullets fired from a gold plated 9' sucka. Fo' Shizzle.

Don't worry...Charon will be there to ferry you across. Don't forget your silver dollars... he doesn't take your hippy Canadian money. Call me when you get here. I will come out onto the balcony and throw used toilet paper at you. Got it? If not, then drive thru C'ville and scream my name out your window."

Now I don't know if I have any way to actually understand what the F he is talking about, but at least the directions are funny. I was laughing so hard last night I snorted. (Fontana is the last name of my great uncle, who worked for years at the University there)

Woohoo!

CONGRATS TO MARK AND AMBER! (sorry Santa, you get nuthin')

Talk about exciting news...I simply love these two people. Last August I bet they'd be engaged on February 27th, so I was about a week off but I'm impressed with my skills nonetheless. What great news!

826 Nerds

As anyone who reads this regularly knows, I'm kind of in love with McSweeny's, David Eggers and Sarah Vowell. All three are closely connected, and then branch into other loves like The Daily Show (where I first found out about Vowell), Dave Sedaris, Janeane Garafalo, This American Life, Salon.com, The Decemberists, etc.
It's like all my favorite nerds are friends.
This brings joy on multiple levels.
One of the great things to come out of this quorum of nerdom is the non-profit group 826 National, a collection of tutoring and writing centers in major cities across the US for kids from 8 to 18. The first, 826 Valencia in San Francisco, is fronted as a Pirate Supply Store; the 826 in NYC is a Super Hero Supply Company; Seattle's is the world's first Space Travel Agency.
I love the passion and creativity these places require and encourage. I love the idea of making writing fun again; letting kids see themselves published, letting them see their words come alive, or see people react to their words. I don't think we ever teach kids how powerful the written word can be.
There are 10,000 things I'd like to do with my life; all of them are fuzzy and opaque. Working with something like 826 is one of them, and not just so I can meet all my favorite geeks. That would be a perk, but not the main reason.

And Then There Was Trout

So last night I think I was just starting to fall asleep and had a dream that it was my job to come up with advertising slogans for trout...like the fish. I think this idea came from the trout delivery we had at camp yesterday (100 fish thrown into pond by man driving trout truck) but who knows. I woke up and wrote some of them down, because something is seriously wrong with me.

Possible Slogans Should Trout Ever Decide They Need an Ad Campaign:

Trout: Smell something fishy?

Trout: It's not a tuna.

Trout: It's not just for Fridays anymore.

Trout: Better to eat the fishes than sleep with them.

Trout: Kickin' bass, taking names.

Trout: Well...it's white meat.

Trout: Well you'd be hooked, too.

Trout: One fish, two fish, red fish, yum.

Schism

(I started this post last week sometime and am still not done but oh well)
Still thinking about that stupid myspace comment my drunken old friend wrote. I'm amazed how much it's still in my head, not necessarily bothering me, but bouncing around nonetheless. It's like a damn superball stuck in there. Lots of thoughts on shame, regret, secrets, desired do-overs and real resentment. You know, little light and fluffy things. Like pretty bunnies.

Thing is, I don't ever want to be one who lives in those things; I don't even want to pass through them. But time and again I find myself mired in them; playing what-ifs behind blank stares. Sometimes it feels like I'm watching old home movies in my head; the old 8mm type where mute actions are disjointed, jumpy and off their technicolor perfection. The only sound is the clicking of the frames. (This is a terrible byproduct of long hours working by oneself doing mundane tasks. Even the most minute thought process will simmer and grow. And then I'm saved by "This American Life" podcasts).
What is shame, really? all definitions have words like "dishonor", "improper", "pain", "regret" in them. Yup, don't want that. I hate how this has been eating me, but I feel like I'm slowly learning the realities of living a life that has a great schism in its history.

Host Copy?

So I just finished up my first weekend in hosting duty, which means I basically am in charge of the property while the group is in for the weekend. It's a lot of putting out fires. I loved it. LOOOOOVED it. Except for the visit to the wastewater treatment plant (The Poo Poo Palace as it is actually--seriously--known) in which one has to do some unmentionable things that make me literally vomit. I didn't vomit today because it was so damn cold outside I was more pissed to be standing out in the wind and snow than I was about the vile task I was performing. (Don't judge me; I have a terrible gag reflex) Besides that part: awesome. After breakfast we had finished up all we could do for the moment and so I was sitting in the office talking to Demetria and Brittany when a call comes over the radio. "Ummm...host copy? I think there is a bird stuck in the leader's lounge."
The next 20 minutes were spent with three girls, a blanket and a very panicked bird in a room with cathedral ceilings. I ended up on a ledge about ten feet up, standing on two-by-fours (so as not to fall through the dry wall ceiling beneath me) trying to get the little bird out a higher window. Ended up getting him into progressively smaller rooms until finally got him out a window but not without a lot of dive bombing, ducking for cover and throwing blindly a blanket at a tiny and exhausted nuthatch (maybe warbler) while D keeps muttering/yelling, "I hate birds...I don't like birds! I don't like 'em!"
We had a kid break her leg in three places but only one hospital run for the weekend which is actually pretty good. A couple toilets overflowed, a kid threw up all over his stuff, one charter bus broke down in the parking lot--all pretty par for the course. I love being able to field what comes at me like that; I love the problem solving and the possibility of a solution. I love to get to know the people here, the behind the scenes stuff. Hosting is the main reason I applied for this internship; it's a sweet treat to be able to end this portion of the internship on a high note.
Though I did almost take out D's brand new mailbox with a ladder in the back of my golf cart. Sorry for the little dent...

Sidebar: I haven't been reading anything lately and my brain is mushy. I am going book shopping this week or the next time I sneeze I fear my short-term memory might fly out my ears.

Bah, Beth.

It's 2pm, I have "intern time" in two hours. Still have three days worth of bible study to do and have no motivation whatsoever to actually do it. Beth Moore: I kind of hate you. No offense.
Also: Arthur Schlesinger died. This is very sad, though honestly I thought he'd passed a decade or so ago. But he and his dad were both prominent historians so they've been talking for the better part of a century and I can't recall who wrote/said what.

And no, he wasn't Dr. Laura's husband.