Commodious

I haven’t done a post about a weekend in a while, and this past one was one that deserves to be recorded for posterity.

It started with a dive-in movie on Friday night at Dan and Haydin’s. A dive-in movie is much like a drive-in movie, in that it involves a movie projected outside on a screen, but that is the extent of the similarities. A dive-in movie is set up around a swimming pool. The event was to start at 7 but due to disorganization, shirking of responsibilities and general technical difficulties, it didn’t actually start until closer to 10:30. Ugh. Annoying. But “The Big Lebowski” is a favorite and it was fun to sit around a pool and watch it on a big screen. It started to drizzle half-way through and I took that as my cue to leave. Ena’s birthday party was early on Saturday and I wanted to get some sleep.

Ena loves cowboys, trains, horses and being naked. She’s two, so all of those things are quite splendid. I dressed up as cowgirl, partially for the fun of it and partially because I thought she’d like it. When I saw Nathan at the Dive-in on Friday night I told him my plan and he announced he’d dress up as well, so Saturday morning it was just the two of us in costumes (we were also some of the only ones who didn’t have small children with them). Ena and her friends were in their birthday suits for most of the party and it was a beautiful day for a birthday party. I love that little girl so much it hurts.

Saturday evening there was discussion of a roller skating adventure that got nixed at the last minute, so Betsy and I headed downtown to go to the last Shindig on the Green of the year. I forget how amazing those things are. We ended up in the entrance of City Hall, listening to a bluegrass band; one man was so old he had a wheelchair/walker combo and would stand up to smile and sing along. I loved him immediately.

Sunday I met up with Betsy and Emily downtown for the Kovacs and the Polar Bear show (see above) that kicked off the Lexington Avenue Arts and Fun Festival, the hands-down best people watching event in a city full of people-watching opportunities. The day was bright (and HOT), and someone had plastered mustaches all over the festival area. Everywhere. Parking meters, shop windows, newspaper boxes; once one was spotted the sheer volume of them appeared. I found out from one friend that it was part of “Mustacheville” a quirky sort of prank on a city that loves pranks. Emily, Betsy and I found mustaches to our liking and stuck them to our faces. We wore them the rest of the afternoon. No one looked at us strangely.

Labor day was chores around the house, until around 330 when I got a text from my old friend Ammons. “Sunny afternoon cocktails?” it read. I responded, “I could be convinced.” He replied, “I don’t know what else to say: Sunny. Afternoon. Cocktails.” So I went and sat outside with Ammons, catching up and drinking the amazing cocktails that Sazarac makes (before the ache of the bill arrives!). We then wandered up to Packs Square to catch part of the free show by the Asheville Symphony. The sky was the blue that only comes in early fall, the sun was just enough set to leave a crisp in the air and I was warm with company, sound, place and spirit.

In ten days I’ll attend Tegan and Sara, live jamming bluegrass, the Symphony and Erin McKeown. I love this town.

Circle Round

Last weekend I had a group of 20-some friends from far and wide join me in a brewery tour around Asheville. It was bright and 75 degrees and, since 5 breweries are within walking distance, it was a casual adventure in matching green shirts.
This photo, taken by the incomparable Jane, reminds me that I am surrounded by love.
Such a joy, these people!

More Thoughts on the Barn

The time at the Big Blue Barn blessed on many levels.

It reminded me how much I love my friends; how they let me be my nerdy self and just accept it; that they too are nerdy and highly intelligent but still can sing all the words to Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” and will willingly spend at least an hour racing along a hardwood floor in socks, seeing who can slide the farthest.

It was carte blanche to temporarily be the Lost Boys from Neverland. We ate what we wanted, didn’t go anywhere, invented games and adventures and knowingly threw ourselves down steep icy hills toward fences and cows. We slept where we fell when we grew too tired to move.

Most of the time, I want to feel more grown up. I want my own place; I want to nest and shop for the week and make dinner for someone I love. I want to be part of a pair (2010 is the year of finally admitting this).

But during that snowstorm I got to live in a little microcosm of community as part of a posse—I wasn’t a single entity on my own—I was standing with loves. It was fleeting but so sweet to me and will be a time I recall fondly for years to come.

(photos stolen from Jenna, who, unlike me, has actually uploaded her photos)

Speak Through the Snow

I’m from Virginia and I learned from an early age that snow was God’s sign you stay home.

No exceptions.

If there is snow, God gave you a bonus Sabbath or two—take the time off, read a book, sled, nap; it’s a gimmie day. Don’t drive, don’t move too quickly; don’t attempt anything that could be construed as chores.

In New York, snow isn’t a sign of anything but a season. God didn’t speak through snow. Life doesn’t slow down, schools don’t close; offices stay open and work keeps happening. My years up there taught me how to drive in snow but made me lose some of my love of the fluffy white stuff. The common things lose their wonder.

This winter has changed and brought a bit of that love back; this past weekend helped.

The snow started on Friday afternoon. There were threats of 8 to 12 inches and the whole area was buzzing with anticipation. Grocery stores were selling out of eggs, milk, bread and beer; liquor stores did business like it was the holidays. I left work at 3, jettisoned home to quickly pack and begin the trek to the Big Blue Barn, a converted barn that is now a beautiful apartment housing three brave friends.

It took me one hour to go 8 miles.

8.
Miles.
GAH.

I was joined at the barn by the usual suspects of Doug, Justin and Tara (who brought her 3-month old puppy, Rooney) and with barn residents Jenna, Betsy and Emily (and a few other characters who popped in and out) and we settled in for our own version of a winter wonderland in a landscape covered in 12” of snow.

We cooked huge meals of spaghetti, pizza and lasagna. We had bacon and eggs and cinnamon rolls and knockoff captain crunch; we ate way too many cookies and chips and dips and we drank leisurely.

We watched movies. Lots of movies. And TV.

We played games like Scattergories and Farkle. We made unreasonable consequences for losing.

We went sledding. A lot. We injured ourselves in the process. We laughed so hard we snorted. We chased the puppy through the house and through the snow and gushed over him when he’d pass out from exhaustion.

Saturday night was the full moon and when it would pop out from behind the clouds the sledding track would be lit as if a spotlight had been shone upon it.

As if God was enjoying the snow right along with us.

In the Shadow of the City

Last summer I spent many of my nights at "The Shop", a dilapidated warehouse hidden in plain sight in the midst of the bustle of downtown. My friend Adam built guitars there, and we drank, played guitars and darts, and climbed through a converted window onto the roof of the abandoned warehouse next door. On it we'd sit with our drinks in hand and watch the world go buy, listening to the concerts at the Orange Peel as they seeped through the open windows, the cheers from a baseball game across the street, watching the fireworks that lit up the sky in celebration of our 232nd year of independence.
I knew it'd never last. It was one of those times in life that whisper their transiency between the moments of breathlessness and thrill.

Last week I once again stood on the roof next door with drinks and friends, waiting for the Beastie Boys to take the stage at the Peel. The sky was marbled and full of the relief that comes just after a thunderstorm. I looked back at the shop and the city behind it and I was full.

The downtown commission has approved the demolition of the Shop and surrounding warehouses. We lose another hidden gem.

(these two photos are courtesy of Clark Mackey, a phenomenal photographer who is very often involved with the adventures at the Shop. I do not own these; I showcase Clark. Go to his Flickr to see them on black; they are even more impressive.)

Equal Parts

This past weekend was one of spectating. I like spectating. I thoroughly enjoy watching sports. I love to cheer, to groan, to tailgate and get invested in the drama for a little bit. Anyone who has had to suffer through me watching a Redskins game knows this. I get really invested when it comes to my ‘Skins.

Friday afternoon I met up with Margarita, the Polis, Cara’s Dad and Nathan at the Tourists’ baseball game. I didn’t get there until the 7^th inning; just in time to walk in for free, catch up on the happenings, drink a pint and then leave without the normal boredom that comes with watching baseball. It was a gorgeous spring evening, the kind where the outcome of the game/match doesn’t matter as much as the enjoyment of the experience. After the game the group split, with most everyone going to Wedge Brewery for a pint and Nathan and I going to pick up his dog, drop him and the truck at Nathan’s house then walk to Jack of the Wood for the Habibigy show. Laura and Drew met up with us there and, as expected, it was a great night. The music was lively and unexpected, the conversation was meandering and the company was top-notch. It was another night in this town where I have to pinch myself that I live here, that this is my life. I get to be with my sort of people.

Sunday afternoon M-rita and I met up at memorial stadium to watch Doug, Dan, Clay, Aaron, Dave, etc play their guts out in search of glory and victory for Jack of the Wood’s soccer team. By halftime it was raining feverishly and Margarita and I took shelter in beach chairs under the bleachers. We stayed mostly dry and the boys won.

After the match the whole lot headed around the block to Dirty Jacks, the top-secret speakeasy brewpub for JotW for a Tres de Mayo potluck (or “Cinco de Tres” according to Clay). We played horseshoes, laughed, got herded inside by the grumbles of thunder and then trapped by the violent storms that followed. When I finally left, downtown was empty and without power—no cars, no streetlights, no stoplights—and the drive home was spooky, as if I was the only one left. It took me four tries to get back to my house; every street had a tree down or power trucks blocking the way.

There is no neat conclusion to this summary, only that this weekend I felt like I was equal parts observing life and living it.

Dreaming (your) Dreams

My friend Seth just sent this to me and it cracked me up...

"In a dream last night I came to a rather disturbing conclusion as to why there were so many hippies/[our high school] grads that had congregated in the same place (Asheville). I dreamt that you all had become part of a dissident school for the performing arts that based its recruiting off of facebook friend lists. You all had built a stronghold in an old castle and had even tricked the us army into giving you all your own rotc branch with which you were building your army. It was like "red dawn" for 20 somethings with makeup and tights. And there were many people there from our graduating class. Apparently rush limbaugh has invaded my dreams and is accessing my facebook friend list. I'm nuts."


HAHAHAHHAHA! Love it.

Where'd You Park?

I go to Staples for work.
A lot.
It seems like every time I come out of Staples, there is a new, more odd vehicle in the parking lot waiting to greet me.

Today it was this:

And last week it was this:

Thank you, Staples. Not only do you supply all my office needs (according to your riches and glory, as per the company Visa) but you bring entertainment as well. Bravo.

No Ani

Tuesday night I met Nathan at the home of Anthony and Cara and after a rather pathetic game of horseshoes the four of us went downtown to see Dan Tyminski at The Orange Peel. It was enjoyable but I can't focus on that much bluegrass in one sitting. I get overwhelmed and it all runs together. Later in the week Ani DiFranco played two nights at the Orange Peel and in those evenings I was badly missing my DC sisters. I needed a strong fan to go with me but I know of none around here and Ani is not a show to go alone. I had a great weekend anyway, meeting my friend Emily for drinks on Friday night and Saturday involving delicious Jamaican food and Will Ferrell's GW Bush but every time I passed the Peel I got a little heartbroken. It was just a little splinter of disappointment.

Gods of Gasoline

* I manged to get Rashard Mendenhall just as I found out Willie Parker is out this week. Whew. Also: just heard that Buress is suspended for the Week 5 game and guess who has him as their star WR...the team I'm playing Week 5. Obviously Fantasy gods smiling on me today. I did break my "never draft a Cowboy" rule this week and picked up Felix Jones because of all the Byes. I hope he sucks. I deserve it.

* All of AVL is out of gas...station after station has blank signs and pumps covered in bags. In the parking lot of the local grocery store I saw a worn, 1970s RV with a hand-panted sign in its window, searching for gasoline. "NEED GAS" it said in green marker. I drove by a dry station with a man just parked at the pump, waiting for the truck to show up, hoping that it actually does.
It's like we've suddenly developed an intense faith in the gods of gasoline; that they will provide in our time of need.
I wasn't alive during the gas crisis of the late 70s but this has a feeling akin to that. Part of me thinks, "Well, we deserve it," and I believe we do. But the other part of me worries how I can get to work, to the store, get to anywhere in a country where the infrastructure is built with the sacred emblems of Detroit in mind, in a town where incline is king. Thankfully this week I'm housesitting just three miles from work (with no way to bike there safely).
* My father sent me an email saying "they" were coming to visit next week and had rented a cabin an hour outside of town and inviting "us" out for a night. I don't know who "they" is. I'm kind of afraid to ask.

Ponderosa

I don't remember if Ponderosa is a buffet restaurant or not, but I like the sound of the word so for the sake of the blog today it is a buffet restaurant.

As most people who know me know, I have a giant, insatiable girl crush on Edna St. Vincent Millay, who died oh, 60 years ago. The Washington Post on Saturday did an article about the restoration of her famous farmhouse near Albany, NY and it got me all a-flutter again. I am thinking that if/when I go to the Hudson Valley for Caroline's wedding this fall I shall have to pop up there to look around. I can't help it, my love runs deep. She was an ass-kicker.

Rita threw a martini party on Sunday night and as is the case with situations where people drink out of tiny glasses that are chock full o' straight liquor, it got crazy quickly. After two I switched to cranberry juice so I just to got watch the magic happen. Thanks for that, Rita!

(Nate was J.Crew swanky-tastic at the party. Dan, on the other hand, came straight from his soccer game...oh the freedom of Asheville)

I may be taking a road trip later this week. I'll keep the blog posted.

I can't tell you how many times I've had someone say to me, "I know what you've been up to...don't worry, I read your blog." and it has never ceased to make me crack up laughing. It hasn't gotten me fired just yet (though it got me in some hot water last year) so I guess I'll just keep plugging along.

So Hasbro has also changed the look/characters/format of CLUE. No revolver? No Wrench? No longer Colonel Mustard? For this and the Trivial Pursuit debacle I banish Hasbro to the shit list. Way to crap on the best games out there, Hasbro.

If you have time to kill and need to laugh, go look up Chelsea Handler on YouTube. Just about anything you can watch is hilarious.

Dear neighbor who just got WiFi and has an unsecured network that reaches into my living room,
Kisses.
Love,
Sarah Spooner

I think I've been in nesting mode. The other night it was almost 1am and I was scrubbing my light switch cover because it looked dirty. This is not my normal behavior. "Nesting Mode" for me looks differently than it does for others, as I don't even own a houseplant.

Went out to dinner with Katherine and Andy on Saturday night and didn't realize til the end of the meal that the entire time Andy and I argued about fantasy football. Yet another reason I love those two.

Rabbit Trail

Another "weekend" and another adventure with Jonathan. This is becoming a habit. We had great plans to drive to Rockbridge to hear my dear friend Hatcher speak but the drive was just too long and Jonathan didn't finish up work until much later so the VA adventure had to be scrapped for something local. It was for the best; that would have been a bit of a stretch.
We headed to Max Patch, a 4600' bald peak about an hour northwest of Asheville that has what many consider to be the best views in an area full of breathtaking views. We had the place to ourselves (lucky us! Pays to have Tuesday be my Saturday!) and the short trip to the top afforded us plenty of time to settle into the quiet beauty and watch the sunset. Lovely as always. I haven't enjoyed a sunset like that in much too long.

Wednesday we took our time getting going and finally headed out on gravel roads barely wide enough for two cars (luckily we didn't even see another car the whole time) that took us down into Tennessee. I don't tire of seeing miles and miles of young forest.
After a greasy lunch and more exploring we stopped at Big Creek in the Great Smokey National Park for a chance to have a cold mountain stream all to ourselves. After a quick dip we reclined on boulders in the creek, soaking up the sunlight and smelling clean the way one does after experiencing water like that. We watched goldfinches make their way to the water to take their own baths, their yellow feathers splashing and fluffing.

On the hike out we were sort of making our own way back to the camper and I got worried we were on a rabbit trail. Is that what ya'll call them, rabbit trails? Those paths in the woods that look promising, look like they lead somewhere, and then dead end at nothing in particular? I've been thinking about rabbit trails since then and in ways that have nothing to do with hiking. Surprise, I found a metaphor.
Really I've been thinking about hope but since I haven't fully formulated my thoughts on the matter I just leave you knowing that's what I'm thinking about. Not that I really expect you to care, but FYI.

Sabbath

Sometimes 'weekends' need to be a long sabbath and that's it.

After an extremely long and surprisingly stressful week at work, my weekend (Tuesday and Wednesday) needed to be a time to decompress, sleep, get the kink out of my neck and stop my eye from twitching. I'd say that's pretty ambitious.

So I skipped Quizzo on Monday (I know, shock, I actually skip Quizzo. I love it dearly but I was exhausted and in pain and didn't want to use my brain) to go to bed early and get rather intimate with a tube of Ben-Gay. That may have sounded weirder than I meant but I'm leaving it in. My blog, dammit. Mine. I haven't been sleeping well, as when I go to bed my room is a sauna but around 2:30am it is more fridge-like so there is a lack of consistency that is necessary to get to that blissful REM state.

My friend Katherine and I decided to abandon downtown Asheville on Tuesday and high tail it to the hills; Hot Springs to be exact. We spent most of the day laying in the cooling waters of the French Broad; small rapids doubled as cooling jets on our skin and we considered it a success when we both got goosebumps in August. Awesome. Perfect amount of sun and wind and water for a day.

(Katherine and her 8-month pregnant belly and the pretty heat rock she found to give Andy, her husband. A "Hey I played in a river all day but I got you a pretty rock" sort of present.)

We got back into town around 4, enough time to take a quick nap and shower before I drove south to Brevard and the Cradle of Forestry in Pisgah National Forest. I met Jonathan at the Ranger Station and hopped in the infamous VW and we drove up to the parking lot for Mt. Pisgah where we made dinner, sipped wine and watched the sun set over the Smokies.

We had great plans to do a night hike up Pisgah but a big bowl of pasta and two glasses of merlot will do wonders to hiking ambition. Instead we talked til the moon was setting and pulled out the pop-top mattress and laid it on the ground to look at the stars, which took up every spot in the sky. Jonathan has a computer program that will show the exact night sky based on coordinates and so we were able to identify constellations I've never known. I fell in love with Vega last night. It was cool enough for a fleece and when we finally went to bed around 3 the sleeping bags were necessary warmth. Oh blissful altitude. Wednesday morning brought a brunch at the overlook for the Cradle of Forestry, a meal including coffee, pancakes and, of course, the Diane Rehm show. I'd say it was the best Sabbath I've had in recent memory. How I love my times to live in kairos.(the Cradle of Forestry made me think of ESF and want to shout out to the foresters I didn't know and the forestry classes I didn't take. But approximation is a powerful thing from 14 hours and five years away)
(There was a vernal pool full of bull frog tadpoles. I loved the self-importance of their world)

Go Westy

I live in one of the prettiest places in the country.

There are days when I almost wreck my car because I'm dumbstruck by the scene outside my windshield; this town is nicely nestled in the lush, maternal mountains that surround it. It is breathtaking in every season.

(I-mean-it-sucks-don't-move-here)

After Quizzo recently I've been heading down to the Warehouse/Shop to hang out and play darts with Adam, Jonathan, Yeatman and whomever else is around. It's the perfect endcap to a night consumed with answering inane questions over pints of microbrew. After last week's strong showing (and one in which I won my 6^th shout-out question) I was feeling energetic so I stayed at the Shop after Margarita and Yeatman left. Jonathan and I got to talking and decided we should go camping the next night. His best friend and his girlfriend were in town in their Westy camper and since Jonathan essentially lives in his it'd be a breeze to pack up and head to the Smokies in matching VWs. So after doing some tiling in the morning I met up with the crew at the shop and with a few stops to get meal makings we were off, cruising at the brisk 55 top speed of the Westy.
We first headed to a favorite spot of Jonathan's on the East Fork of the Pigeon called Garden of the Gods, where we proceeded to rock hop and scramble up continuous 12-20ft waterfalls with deep pools full of native brook trout for almost two hours. Great fun; I haven't rock hopped like that in ages. I love the puzzle it becomes, the weight distribution and foot placement; the translation of right handed movements to the left-handed brain. The river mets up with the road and we easily walked back down to the campers.

(Not Jonathan's Westy but one very similar)

By this point it was strongly dinnertime. We drove up onto the Parkway and parked at the overlook for Devil's Courthouse, where we popped the tops to the campers and cooked our meals. This is when Jonathan's modifications on his Westy really began to impress, though I was most impressed by the command to simply sit in my chair, drink my wine and not do a darn thing. We had pan-seared king salmon steaks, fresh salad, asparagus and red wine and it was delicious. Yes, that was cooked on a stove in a VW camper. And we had some classical station as background music so we almost looked classy what with our lexan wine glasses and all.

(Devil's Courthouse)

After dinner we drove a short distance to the parking area for Black Balsam Knob, a 6200ft bald in the Shining Rock Wilderness area (in comparison, Mt Marcy in NY is 5344 ft, Mt. Washington is 6288ft) where we popped the tops and set up camp for the night. We didn't get to bed til after 2am. I haven't slept in the pop-top of a VW camper since I was probably 12; it brought back some of my favorite memories of camping with my dad in my grandparents blue 1982 VW.
The sun was bright and clear in the morning and as neither of us are morning people it was nice to sort of ease into the day, to the tune of actually attempting to go back to bed after a breakfast of pancakes with strawberries and fresh coffee. Didn't work, gave up on the napping and finally left to hike Black Balsam. It has one of the best views in the Pisgah area; as a bald it's clear in all directions with views of Looking Glass, Graveyard Fields, Shining Rock, Mt Pisgah and Cold Mountain. We had a picnic lunch at the summit but the threat of rain sent us scurrying back down the trail to head back to town. This was all about 30 miles from my house.
I know that was long but I hope it did the trip justice. It was throughly enjoyable.

(The summit of Black Balsam taking from the internets as my camera is broken)

Good Times

I don't have much else to say about this photo other than this: I love my friends, I love JotW and I can't imagine loving life any more than I am right now.

More in the List Department

#1: On Saturday, French Broad Chocolate Company had the soft opening of their new Chocolate Lounge, located very close to the corner of Lexington and Patton, around the corner from Salsa's. GO TO THIS CHOCOLATE LOUNGE. It may have changed my life for the better, and I don't even like chocolate that much. Literally the best chocolates I have ever tasted. Like the world disappeared and I was overwhelmed with flavors and ideas. Godiva is like drinking Boone's Farm and this is the best wine you can imagine. And they serve beer and wine, and a Pisgah Porter does wonders for some seriously good dark chocolate truffles. Plus, my friend Katherine's artwork is featured throughout the lounge. It's gorgeous. So go. Afterward we went over to my friend Ian and Tammy's and sat around in their hot tub drinking bourbon. It was as awesome as it sounds.

#2 From Asheville, plane tickets to Flagstaff cost the same or more than they do to fly to London. Go figure.

#3 I got into a conversation with my mom the other day about kids with parents that are split, and I felt like I got to say a lot of things to her that I needed to say and never could figure out how to say. For someone who has been married and divorced several times, she has no idea what it does to kids. Or how long the effect lasts.

#4 The Giants represented the NFC East well last night, and for that I'll no longer make fun of Eli Manning for looking like he's 13. I'll say he's 15. Also: I expected the Super Bowl to be a "if you drink every time a Peyton Manning commercial comes on you'll be hammered by the two minute warning of the first half" but alas, no Peyton commercials. Or should I say thankfully there weren't. But how great was Tom Petty? I mean really, the person who thought of that: kisses, pies and a raise! Looks like a child molester, sings like a child molester, but still manages to be fairly awesome. Well done, Petty. You keep runnin' down that dream.

#5 I'm in a lull. Don't feel I got too much goin' on.

Tuesday Notes

• New Years was insane. But even being in the same room as Margarita, Rita and Jane seems to make everything better, so of course it was. And then there was this South African UN Pilot that played into the whole thing but that's what I'd like to call a side story.
  

• All of YL staff is currently in Orlando at the All-Staff conference, which is why I am currently watching Slappy and Homer, which means our little house has a pack of dogs running through it this week. Whoa boy.

• One of my favorite things about living in Asheville is breathing in the same air as some of the most creative, passionate and kind people I have ever met—people who believe creativity is not a hobby, but a lifestyle. I love this. It makes me feed my creative side, which very often has a serious case of stage-fright. When did a fear of rejection and failure override my sincere desire to simply create?

• Joe Gibbs resigned as head coach of the 'Skins yesterday. When he returned to the 'Skins in 2004 it was the closest thing I've ever experienced to Christ's return, and I say that without any sort of exaggeration or irony. I was at my dad's house and we watched the news on every channel, just to hear it be said again. Then we pulled out the VHS of the 'Skins Super Bowl run of 1992 and watched it. Ok, so I'm a bit of a fan. Whatever. To say I'm upset to lose him again is a bit of an understatement. I hate the owner of the 'Skins, so I can't wait to see how he messes this one up.
  

• Dear Seattle: I sort of hate you. For the second time in 3 years you knocked us out of the playoffs. Take your strong coffee, computer programs, fairy boats and grunge music and shove it. Your “Real World” season sucked.

• I won another t-shirt on a shout-out question at Quizzo on Monday. It was about the Wyoming primary, which no one paid attention to as it was only for the Republican side. I paid attention because of the presidential drinking game I have going on with about 12 people from college. Mixing politics, competition and drinking is a wonderful idea. Booyah. Drink for freedom, bitches.

Ain't No Party Like A Harmon St. Party

Ok, so here are some photos from the night. Everyone was nothing but classy. That I recall at least. First: Margarita and I dance up the kitchen. In a classy way. Nate, the winner of the most swanky award. I mean, that's swanky. And Becca looks so focused at the table of magic/bad decisions.
Nate, Leslie Doug and I are probably discussing the situation in Darfur. Or Obama and Oprah.
Dan is always swave with the smart Quizzo ladies like Jane and Margarita.
Dear Robin: Thank you for capturing in one photo the awkwardness of my night. I can't imagine this being more clear. Just...wow. You are gifted friend, totally gifted.

Job Searching for Dummies

* Why does every single job posting in Asheville involve "be your own boss!!!!!!" or a nursing position? Are we really a town of diseased entrepreneurs? I had no idea, I better catch up.
* Charleston, SC = Awesome.
* People really work 6pm-4am shifts? Who are these people?
* Hardee's still exists? Really?
*I hate this. It all makes me want to vomit.
* "There is no lapse in God's goodness." Thanks for that, Natabee.
*I could be a park ranger. I'd get a hat. That's awesome.

Wild Weekend

Sorry haven't posted in a while. Here's a quick breakdown of the weekend that was:

Friday: Downtown after Five, free concert by Yo' Momma's Big Fat Booty Band and subsequent dancing-->quick bite at Bier Garden-->Salsa dancing at Mela's with Nate, John and Jane (don't be impressed, I didn't dance) --> booty dancing at Temptations til past 1. Note: I was in a tanktop, brown carrharts and old dirty rainbow flipflops. Total dancing outfit.

Saturday: Slept in--> “community festival” with Jane and Nant for hotdogs and people watching-->read, fretted, read, fretted-->downtown to meet up with Jess and her posse of drunk friends after their day at Brewgrass. I'd say 75% of downtown was Brewgrass patrons--> Dinner at Mamacita's-->decide to nix cabin camping plans with Jess and the crew. Too tired to deal with the really drunk-->On way back to car, meet up with Nate, Katherine and Andy-->French martini bar and best dessert EVER--> booty dancing at Temptations til past 1. These two occurrences I blame directly on Nate. He's so bootylicious he just has to dance.

Sunday-->Slept in-->met up with Jess and gang at Laughing Seed to say goodbye-->Get to see old high school friend Emily for the first time in, oh, 6 years or so-->wander downtown to peruse the shops--> Go home, change clothes, head to Nate's-->walk to Bier Garden to watch Redskins game with Nate, Anthony and Kara-->'Skins lose. I hate everyone-->all take cab to Ian and Tammy's for homemade piea night with whole gang-->Ride back to Nate's in the back of Katherine and Andy's station wagon-->watch episode of “Blackadder” with Nate-->booty dancing at Temptations til past 1 (no wait, that part I made up. I went home around 12:30 though.)