What Do People Do All Day, Part II

So um, we had a rush this morning of people, and after they all left we were cleaning up and found this:I'm sorry, but did someone leave their jar of moonshine on the table in the men's section? Is that actually a jar of the 'shine?

Some questions:

#1 Who thinks, "Shopping at J.Crew? Better bring my 'shine!"

#2 Who is shopping at 2:52pm on a Monday who is also drinking 'shine? This is mom's from Biltmore Village time.

#3 Why didn't they bring me any?

#4 Are they going to come back and say, "Excuse me, I was in earlier and I left my 'shine, did someone turn it in?

#5 Moonshine? Really? Couldn't do the civil thing and drink gin and tonic out of a Sprite bottle?

(the title of these posts are taken from a favorite children's book of mine by Richard Scarry)

What Do People Do All Day?

Apparently, what people do all day is something akin to this.
At least this is what my co-workers and I did this weekend.
We doubled my already existing rubber band ball.

Cool.

I Hope They Have Beer in Heaven

For 4 years, the last weekend in June meant one thing, that thing that would cause friends to travel great distances and promote the usage of vacation days, a holiday unlike any other:

The Old Dominion Beer Festival.

You may laugh, but this truly was a very, very special weekend event. It would start on Friday around 5pm and ended Sunday at 7pm and those three days were chockablock full of music, food, cigars, an inevitable sunburn, probably a rain shower or two and, of course, lots and lots of beer to sample...fifty breweries in fact. It was summer. After the festival we'd go inside the brewery to fill our growlers and get dinner (as Brandt is doing after the 2006 festival. That's five growlers he is holding; I have four myself).

That all changed in March, 2007 when Old Dominion Brewery was bought out, with Coastal City Brewing Company getting a 51% share and good old Anheuser-Busch getting 49%.
Last May I got online, looking up the musical acts for the 11th annual ODB fest only to find it wasn't happening...they blamed construction. They said, "Don't worry! We'll be back and bigger than ever next year!"

Today is supposed to be the big day of ODB fest.
I should be sitting at a picnic table, stuffing my face with a funnelcake and downing my 12th sample of Some Kind of Awesome Beer with all my friends, but no.
There is no joy in Mudville, ODB Fest is no more more.
I hate you, Anheuser-Busch. Hate you.

(Romano and Seany in happier times, standing with glorious kegs of ODB goodness)

Note: Asheville has the Brewgrass Festival in September, celebrating all things bluegrass and beer-ish, but Brandt (guy with the growlers) is a slimy bastard and is getting married in Virginia the same day as Brewgrass. Bah.

The Houses

If I had a million dollars I'd buy a cabin on a secluded lake in the high peaks region of New York and I'd go there in the summer and fall for several weeks and paddle around, fly fish, and work on writings. I'd take two hours to eat a meal. I'd wear an old flannel shirt early in the morning like the lake wears its early morning fog. I'd know all the bird calls by name. I'd have a reading chair by a wood stove and a big ceramic mug for coffee.
If I had a million dollars I'd have a house within walking distance of downtown Asheville and I'd have everyone over for a cookout and my house would be full of friends. We'd play lawn games and dance and laugh and stay up too late around a campfire because no one would want to leave.
I'd want both.
Sometimes in the very same moment.

Window Shopping

When I was an intern for the consulting firm in Reston one of my favorite things to do on my lunch break was window shop. I loved to walk by the stores and see the wares they peddled in new and exciting outfits, see the life they pretended to sell because most of the time I'd find myself wanting it to some degree or another (but usually it made me dislike what I already owned). I liked the life they showed me.

That's what window shopping is, isn't it? It's selling a life and a lifestyle; it's this perfect dream world where the most fashionable clothes fit in all the right places and no one is ever alone. And it is separated from you only by a pane of glass; something clear and virtually invisible keeps you from the life you might want. Window shopping introduced something into our conscious we hadn't known before: suspended gratification. Not instant to be sure, but suspended and we live in it daily. I'll be happy when I have a nicer car, I have a newer phone, I have the best Mac, the best outfit, those shoes. “I'll be happy when I have...” joined our lexicon. We let happiness be suspended in front of us like the carrot in front of the donkey.

And we don't just do it with material items, we do it with ideas and immaterial goods. I'll be happy when I have the boyfriend/fiance/husband, the best job, the perfect kids, this big project is done, summer finally comes, the best group of friends, the most adventurous Saturday night, whatever it may be. “When I am prettier, when I am more popular, when I am better off, when I am respected then I will be...” and we fill in the blank with every good emotion we can make up. We window shop ideas and ideals. We let ourselves believe that The Next is what is bringing happiness and it never does; we somehow put all of our worth in our immediate happiness. We do this much more quietly than I am referencing; most of us aren't that blatant.
I am completely guilty; I put worth and hope, time and energy into potentials and I window shop at the storefronts that Hollywood and 5^th Avenue sell me. I am sold those lies and I dutifully take them like communion.

I have to say that one of the happiest times in my life was when I didn't own much more than what was on my back, I was single but in a community and thus rarely alone and my work stayed at work and my life lived the rest. It had nothing to do with stuff or what my stuff said about me, it had to do with me and that's it. My worth truly was in Christ. I wish I could get rid of all of window shopping and finally get back to this business of simply being wholly gratified with right here.

Jefferson Diamond Meatloaf

Being that I really don't like to actually work at work, I tend to fill my 40 hours with much more constructive projects, like endless internet surfing, making a very bouncy rubber band ball or creating hats out of shopping bags. Today's fun find is very similar to the Gangsta Graphs of yore but expands it greatly. Happy Sunday, I bring you: Graph Jam.

(The Neil Diamond graph is especially classy, considering "Forever in Blue Jeans" is my favorite Neil song and the one that was featured in that dream I had about performing it as a duet with Ronald McDonald playing the pan flute while sitting on a refridgerator. No lie, actual dream.)

Speed is the Sound of Loneliness

When life speeds up it becomes like USA TODAY: lots of pictures, lots of headlines, not a lot of content. Life becomes blurbs; sound bites bridging the present and the next. I can't focus on the here because the next is just too looming or shiny. I'm even ADHD in the abstract.
One of my mentors, who loves me enough to actually care about my bullshit, asked me about my heart and I honestly didn't have an answer—it's like going so much negates all but the most banal of voices, those of sleep, eat, shit, shut up and drink. I don't know where my heart is, what it is feeling because I haven't stopped to let it catch its metaphorical breath (I picture my heart as a mildly wheezy kid with over-sized glasses and an analytical nature that makes the rest of me roll our collective eyes) long enough to formulate an opinion. I'm busy but maybe I'm also running, I don't know.
At the same time I'm very happy with life so the things from which I'd be running are cursory and not so looming as to necessitate the fight or flight so I don't know why I'd be back on my heels in the first place. Maybe speed walking; maybe a brisk pace but running no. I feel like there should be something I'm running from, should be something I'm supposed to turn and fight but at this point I feel like I'd just be making it up for the sake of the fight (insert lots of American historical war references here) rather than the need to reclaim or defend. Maybe I'm busy because I have a lot going on and not for any other reason than that. How novel.

"So what in the world's come over you
And what in heaven's name have you done
You've broken the speed of the sound of loneliness
You're out there running just to be on the run"
--John Prine "Speed is the Sound of Loneliness"

Just Read

For your enjoyment/bafflement, go read Doug's blog, then think about your day and say, "Well at least THAT didn't happen to me today."
Thanks for that one, Doug.

Beat the System

I found out today that I got out of the parking ticket I got when I was in VA.
There is something delightful about beating the system. Truly delightful.
Ha, Arlington County, Take that!

Fingers and Frets

Saturday night I hung out with some friends in a downtown warehouse where guitars are built and we played darts and laughed til way too late. I haven't played much guitar since I moved to North Carolina and I have no idea why; every time I pick one up I think, "I really love this, why don't I do this more often?" but then I get distracted and busy and my guitars get dusty, something that never happened for the first 13 years I played. The builder let me play some of his custom guitars and their beauty was not merely asthetic; the sound was wonderous. I preformed all the time in college, playing and singing and yet haven't done it since. It was odd to find myself doing it again; actually singing in front of people, especically since I used to do it regularly. It was a part of my daily routine and now that part of me has been buried by so much other stuff. Dusting off the fingers and frets and finding that voice again was its own version of life-giving.

Happy Father's Day. Yay for fathers!

I'm starting to work contract programs for Montreat's Challenge Course. I had an interview with them last week and I think it went swimmingly, just further proof that I'm way better in person than I am on paper. First program is Wednesday.

Text Message of the Weekend: "Lots of things make me think of Taps...like popcorn and everytime I throw up in a bush." --Caroline Romano (in reference to the time four of us went Taps, a townie bar, 8 days straight on a quest to become "regulars" back in 2003 in what has come to be known as "Taps Week")

There are currently six pairs of shoes in my car. Why I don't know.

Had a hypoglycemic attack this morning and lost my vision for a bit. That was scary but I got juice and didn't pass out so game on, suckas. Nobody gonna break my stride.

Cinderblock Love

So, for the past three weeks, I've have a wiener. A wiener dog that is. The one and only Slappy, Leslie's pride and joy (and by pride and joy I mean pain in the ass), a seven year old tan dachshund dog. She is very, very sweet and snuggly and dances and somehow manages to poop her body weight daily. I'm serious, drops it like it's hot like 4-6 times a day. It's a freak of nature that dog's digestive system, like her food is rigged with some colon blow. (I'd post a photo of Slappy but my camera is broken) She really is a sweet creature and she's come to actually like the cat; they touch noses now and then the cat tries to molest her. That's what Slappy gets for befriending a cat, let this be a lesson to you potential cat people: stay away. Now Slappy is probably the most low maintenance dog that has ever lived, I mean a walk around the circle and those little two inch legs are tuckered out. But she does do two things I can't handle: the aforementioned fecal barrage and the occasional vomit. Can't handle at all. Like I actually threw up a little bit this morning because of it.
I've said it before and I stand by my claim that I have the maternal instinct of a cinder block. Like if someone hands me a baby, I just sort of stare at it then try to engage it in conversation, like, "So...what do you think of the Democratic Primary process?" or "What's your favorite podcast?" questions I wouldn't even ask an adult but I freeze up around babies and suddenly I sound like a wannabe correspondent for "Morning Edition". It's the same with babies, kittens, dogs, probably lizards and/or bear cubs I just don't have the frame of reference. That cuddling, maternal thing just isn't there. Slappy and I have an understanding in our cuddling: it's the take it or leave it variety, not the suffocating needy sort. That I can handle. A little bit. In small increments of time. I mean normally I don't even have a houseplant I take care of. Being responsible for someone else isn't a forte of mine.

Once a child is somewhere between the ages of 3 and 12 and 16 and death I'm totally fine, but birth to three and 12 to 16 I'm right out. See? Cinder block. Like put a cinder block in nerdy glasses and a smartass t-shirt and it would look like me as a babysitter, which is why I haven't baby sat since I was 13.
Yeah you keep that mental image.

Thank God for the Mid-90s

So a friend from my church youth group growing up tagged a bunch of old photos on myspace and I was cracking up laughing at these. Thought I'd share me and friends, circa 1994 or so.

That would be me and good ol' Mattie V, a friend since (gulp) Kindergarten. Wow. He's now the Area Director in Winchester, VA. And is married with two kids.

A youth group sleepover in Maryland, when the boys were supposed to use a giant tent that Kelly brought but she forgot to pack the poles so they used it as a tarp over a picnic table. It was quite funny. Holly, Kelly, Erica, Brandon, Matt, Rachel, and me in the very back. I had braces and wouldn't smile because I hated them. I didn't smile for 4 years. I think is also the trip where Matt and I played guitar and with Rachel sang "Kid Fears" by the Indigo Girls cuz Matt could sing Michael Stipe's part. Awesome.

I Wanna Know What [Danny Glover] Is

Sorry for the lack of posting lately; life is a wind-up toy with fits of extreme motion and then crippling lethargy. I stayed in Virginia an extra night to spend time with my dad and it did not disappoint; if anything it was one of the more enjoyable portions of the trip. We drank scotch and sat on the back deck and talked about goats, guns, politics and fly fishing. It may sound strange but I feel so loving and loved in those moments. It scares me how much I love my father, how much I understand him, how I know him. The idea that a part of that may die if I ever get married is something I don't want to even consider; my dad isn't just my dad he's a close friend and to lose that...well, it'd be sacrifice. Daily I am thankful for the father I have.

I finished listening to Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea by Chelsea Handler on my drive back from VA and let me tell you, it is a worthwhile listen. Get this book on CD if you can; you will be crying laughing while cruise control takes you down the Interstate. Most of the drive to VA was totally lost in the book; I don't remember it being as arduous as it normally is because I was laughing the whole trip. Thanks to my co-worker for buying that for my birthday.

I got back Tuesday evening and immediately changed clothes and started to rip up flooring. I just want the flooring project to be done, I hate it weighing over my head. I hate (strong word but I mean it) half-finished projects, I want them to be complete and not in this pubescent stage in which they are settling. I burned out the motor on Andy's hammer drill so I had to buy him a new one (yay unexpected costs!) to mix the mortar but hopefully by the end of the week all the backerboard will be done and it'll be time to tile this mofo.

I wouldn't ever date an actor no matter how amazing he may be. I wouldn't trust him to be truthful (he is an actor after all) and it would kill me to see him saying loving things or kissing another woman on screen. I don't care if they are lines, it would negate whatever he'd said to me. I'm a jealous type apparently.

Scotch Whiskey + Anything Else = Awesome. Even when “Anything else” includes “Watching old SportsCenter commercials on YouTube”

So that person who came back into my life after five years of being gone? We actually spoke on the phone for the first time and it was like hearing a voice from both a haunting past and the best kind of dreams. I have literally been praying for that voice for five years and to hear it again...well...wow. It was almost to the day that my friend from college died (six years ago...blows my mind how it still stings and how I miss his voice) and it was a lot of ghosts in one phone call because of that. But it was also like an invite into a bouncing castle; I was on air for the rest of the night with thankfulness and hopefulness and joy.

Quizzo without Andrew? Blah. What a terrible idea.

I'm rereading Assassination Vacation by Sarah Vowell and I love how she loves US History. It makes me even more passionate about it all, and I'm already in the “pick another topic to talk about or you'll never get laid again” sorta category of American history nerdom.

Darts: Not my spiritual gift.

(What's Danny Glover Got To Do With It)

Shoes for Bros

My brother is walking around the house wearing these shoes. I'd like to nominate them for the "awesome or apocalyptic" list. They are more awesome in person.

My Tended Earth

Wow, whadda whirlwind. I drove back to VA last Wednesday, stopping to have dinner with Matt and Megan, two friends I have known literally my entire life (I met Matt when I was five and Megan has been a dear friend since I was 15. I actually introduced the two of them; amazing people) and got to have dinner with Megan out at Brubaker's in Old Town Winchester. I was getting ready to leave when they said, “Just stay! You've been in the car for 7 hours already!” so I did. Great time with lovely friends and their sweet daughters. Finally got to my dad's house on Thursday morning in time to have some quality coffee and Washington Post time with my dad before driving up to Natalie's and then driving her Volvo Cross-Country out to Wegman's for the best lunch one could ever fathom getting at a grocery store. Wegmans=Heavenly experience. If you ever have the chance to go to a Wegmans, just go. Do not ask questions. And of course Natalie somehow has a chunk of my very soul and is one of the people I love most on this planet, so any time at all spent with her is a gift straight from the heavens. Needless to say it was a lovely afternoon. I got home in time for a very quick nap and then shower before delicious BBQ dinner with my dad and uncle. Love meals with bitter old men...makes me feel youthful and optimistic. Then I headed out to Arlington to hop the Metro to the home of the incomparable Emile, a friend I met literally the first night of college; someone I want to figure out a way to have in my life even more. You would do well to have her in your life in any capacity. Sitting out on her front porch in NW, drinking Sierra Nevadas and mocking her pea-sized bladder: it was priceless.

(Emilie and I at the college version of a cocktail party, Fall 2002)

I stayed there Thursday night and got back to my car early enough to not have to pay for my overnight Metro parking (gates are open til 10:30am, holla!) on the way home I dropped my car off to get inspected and piddled around the house while I waited for my car. Once I got it back I drove out to Michelle and Dave's house for an all too brief visit before cutting down Snickersville Turnpike for my trip up the mountain and back to Adventure Links. What a treat that was. I can't tell you how much I love those people. Like my insides literally flipped in joy just hearing their voices. I got a physical ache; these are people who know and love me well. Anna, Austin, Audrey, Autumn, Shelby, Dave and Scott made for the perfect sort of dinner companions and we played some entertaining board games til very late. Leaving there is never easy. I can't believe I've known them for seven years. Anna Birch is a friend to my core. I am so lucky to have her in my world.

(Anna in her natural habitat)

Saturday morning I tried to talk my dad into going out to my sister's house with me but to no avail; I made the hour trek solo to see my older sister and her four (count 'em, four) children and the new house. The house was a DISASTER. I can't blame her, the woman does have four kids and her husband works a lot but still...it reminded me so much of how cluttered my mom was with us and I got immediately angry at it. I hate that I do that; we just have different tastes and different standards (I know I am an EXTREME packrat, but compared to my family I'm SPARSE.). But I did get to see my niece and three nephews, whom I simply love and adore so it was worth it. I don't know how those boys are so genuinely nice...I hope they keep that. I got back from Bubby's and drove straight to my mother's house for a late dinner. Got to see my mom and my little sister and pick up a trunk full of my old stuff which was wonderful. My little sister is growing up and away and it breaks my heart. I got back to my Dad's in time to watch a little TV with him and then go to bed. I slept in on Sunday and took a traditional Spooner Sunday morning, which consists of reading the entire Washington Post Sunday Edition and drinking at least three cups of coffee the consistency of tar. My uncle came over again later in the afternoon and then I went and grabbed my little sister, took her to dinner, came back to dad's, dropped off the beer he asked to pick up then drove the 30 minutes out to South Riding to have drinks with the one-of-a-kind cynicism that is Amber and Mark. Two people I wish lived in Asheville with me: those two. Seriously. I could be so lucky.

So now, 833.7 miles later, I'm finishing up my trip to the VA and heading back south. North Carolina is home now and for the immediate future, but there is something so bittersweet about coming back to an area and a people so intimate to me; it's a watering of the roots in a way. This is my soil, my tended earth, these are the places and the people that made so much of me and I love them unabashedly for that. I am so blessed in every faction of living.

(Speaking of blessed and past: someone who left my life five years ago has very suddenly returned in a very full way. I am ecstatic about this. I've prayed for this person daily for five years; to have them back in the picture in any capacity is tear-inducing. We'll see where that goes in the redux.)