Just That Good

Saturday:

What a perfect night. Andy got back from a deep sea fishing trip, weighed down with lots of fresh fish and a new hat. We had sashimi wah-hoo before grilling the rest, along with some mackerel and mahi-mahi. Fresh squash, oven fries, a deliciously fresh salad, freshly made bak choi dumplings, sushi rice and some Pisgah pale ale from Nate's kegerator rounded out the main course. Katherine made a balsamic vinaigrette that makes others pale at its feet. The group was a perfect cast for a night spent out on Nate's back deck just off Charlotte St with conversations ranging from highly sophisticated to completely and hopelessly juvenile and plenty of laughter in between. A chilled Italian pino grigio complemented the meal nicely, as did fresh lime, wasabi and Lusty Monk mustard. For dessert I made some shortcakes for Steven's birthday and the fresh strawberries and whipped cream were piled on high as Nate broke open a richly layered bottle of Glenmorangie 12-year sherry wood casked Scotch. Anyone who knows me well knows how I love good Scotch and this was the type that makes loving it easy, and a great dessert didn't help. Even the little sip that I had was warming and calm. Sitting around a table by candlelight with people who are easy to love on a warm, quiet night full of delicious food and memories in the making: worth every second of sleep lost. God I love living here.

Penitent

[sidebar] As loyal readers (ie Liz) know, I'm a big fan of Edna St. Vincent Millay. Love her. [sidebar closed]
Today I was thinking about punishment, and the punishments we doll out upon ourselves. Often we forgive ourselves long after it is healthy or it is helpful; we let those missteps almost define us, or we don't forgive ourselves at all; we live a life of someone perpetually paying penance. I was mulling that around when I saw yahoo's word of the day was penitent; that is, feeling sorry for past crimes or sins. Creepy. It tied in well, as all day I was recalling a Millay poem titled "The Penitent":
"I had a little sorrow born of a little sin
I found a room all damp with gloom and shut us all within
"Little sorrow, Weep!" said I
"Little sin, pray God to die
And I upon this floor will lie
And think how bad I've been!"

Alas for pious planning!
It mattered not a whit
As far as doom went in that room
A lamp might have been lit
My little sorrow would not weep
My little sin would go to sleep
To save my soul I could not keep
My graceless mind on it

So up I got in anger
And took a book I had
And put a ribbon in my hair
To please a passing lad
"There's one thing there's no getting by
I've been a wicked girl," said I
"But if I can't been sorry why
I might as well be glad!"

There are days when I couldn't agree more; others when I want so badly to be done with the Little Sorrows and the Little Sins.

Back in the Paddle

Had Friday off and Paula, Jane and I went out to Jane's family lake house for a day of relaxing and helping Jane with her whitewater kayak roll. I hadn't taught a roll in three years or so and felt rusty but the day more than made up for it. Gorgeous sun, great company, some music and laughter. Loved it. Jane got her roll by the end of the day, a great feeling of accomplishment to be sure. It made me once again remember how much I loved to paddle, and begin to wonder how much I could do again without all the subsequent pains that the longer trips induce. Who knows? Spooner the paddler, round II?

Move It Move It

The problem with transience is it requires moving, and by moving I don't mean simple kinesics, I mean the act of packing up bins and boxes of belongings and carting them elsewhere. Friday I moved my initial wave into my new residence in East Asheville (“We're not as cool as West Asheville but neither is West Asheville”) with my friends Jane and Camden. The one minor glitch is all my furniture is still in storage in VA so the first night I spent on my therma-rest padded with some blankets for extra comfort and my summer-weight sleeping bag. Looks like a few more weeks of living out of bags but I'm just happy to begin to feel settled again. I feel the need to give a serious shout-out to Caroline and Chris, who took me in on very, very short notice and let me stay for the same amount of time some people are in rehab. They let me drink the last of the coffee, win at yatzee, spoil Homer and just gain some footing, even if they were appalled at my lack of a diet. I can't imagine where I'd be in all of this if I hadn't had them to turn to; I honestly don't think I'd have stuck around so to them and for them I am eternally grateful. And it helped that they are simply wonderful people who are just slightly crazy; a trait I delightfully shared. Thank you, friends. I miss you already.

Saturday was spent moving Katherine and Andy a whopping 2 miles from their rental into their new house in West Asheville (“Deodorant is for the yuppie scum in East Asheville”), the place we've been painting for the better part of two weeks. We got them mostly out of their old house with two truck-loads and I am now very tired. Afterward we rested for a bit before heading to our friend Nate's house for some of his homebrewed beer and some good ol' fashioned vegging.

The act of moving them struck me as such a community event. There were 7 friends that showed up throughout the day to help with the move, from all sorts of histories and relationships. We all came because that is what friends do; that is loving someone well.

Yesterday my friend asked me how I see people loving well, and challenged me to look in places where it may lie sublimely. She said that there are thousands of ways to love someone well but we tend to only see a few dozen. There is truth in that.

Preservation

What I know to be true:
* Options are endless and terrifying and life-giving
* Much of what little I know of life cannot be quantified
* Hem is continually impressing me. I just got "Home Again, Home Again" and it's a great listen.
* "Mrs. Dalloway" is a friggin' hard read but I like the challenge.
* Nothing is concrete; not even concrete stands up to its name.
* We had a hailstorm the other day the size of gumdrops. No matter what science tells me about how the world works some things are simply magic.
* The hail was tearing through the young leaves like bullets but I wouldn't call it violent.
* Just because the wine is cheap doesn't mean it's not good. Here's to you, Maggie B's.
* Joy is exercise and I'm starting to get back in shape.
* Friendships are an experiment in idiosyncratic messiness.
* Love is easy to accept one day and impossible to believe the next. Why?