Slow Progress

Well here it is, an ending of an era. I am officially no longer the proud owner of a MOAK (Mother of All Keys) at Windy Gap. I have no idea what 6:30am is going to look like on Monday but it will be an adjustment not grabbing that radio, those keys, that nametag and driving those 30 minutes; my quality time with NPR. I'm ready to leave, ready to not be in this holding pattern, but realizing I'm just moving on to do that elsewhere doesn't help much. I'm thankful to WG for the work, for the patience, the friendships and the lessons. I never quite fit in and most of the time I liked that. I'm really just going to miss the faces of friends. That consistency.

This past summer was a time of such promise for me, feeling sheer joy in potential. In jobs, friendships, relationships, the future, life in general, being in great shape. And I know potential is fickle, believe me, but this summer was the first time I ever actually entertained it. It was the first time I left my logic at home and let with my heart, and even where I am today I'm glad I did it. I lived differently if only for a short while. I don't know when or if I'll be able to do it again, but the simple notion that once in a while my mind is forced to relinquish control is a bit of hope for me. That's a slow progress.

How is potential detrimental to faith? Is it? Where do potential and faith cross—the making of ones own vague, idealistic plans in the face of eagerly seeking the will of God—and if they do cross, where is the compromise? Why are we made to hope so strongly when hope and faith often crash into each other?

Anyway, off to the beach in SC for a wknd away. Needed.

The Things the Mean the Most Not to Mean the Things I Miss

There are times when the hand of God rests so vividly on me that I feel myself lead as if in a dance. And then there are moments when I cry out to feel a touch and silence shouts back. My love does not diminish; unfortunately my understanding does. Strange how confusion and anger bely my simple need to feel led.

Current Listens: “Girl in the War”--Josh Ritter. Great acoustic song--impressed with this guy on a regular basis. “A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger”--Of Montreal (“I spent the winter on the verge of a total breakdown while living in Norway...”). “The Brotherhood of Man”--Innocence Mission. And, randomly, two 1994 albums: Indigo Girls' “Swamp Ophiela” and REM's “Monster” album. I still don't know what the frequency is, Kenneth.

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.)

Beer Tours

What a great weekend! Wow! My friends Jess and Helen drove down from VA to visit. I know them from AL and was literally giddy with excitement to have them in the Ashevegas. Chuck and Kelley, two other ALers, live in Brevard so the five of us had a weekend in the big city. Friday night we went out to Mayfel's for some down home dinner, then over to Jack of the Wood for pints and Sons of Ralph (with Ralph!) before slogging back to my house for some much needed sleep. Saturday morning I made bagels while they went out to the farmers market and we had a substantial (and carb heavy) breakfast. We had talks of climbing and hiking but our friend Tim was meeting us so we decided to stay in town til he came around. First stop: right down the road at French Broad Brewing Company for a tasting and a growler fill of the Wee Heavy-er. Then downtown to show off more of this great city. It was a PERFECT day weather-wise to be walking around—cloudless, mid-70s, breezy—idyllic really, and we walked everywhere, including stopping to get Chuck a cigar. Took a rest at Laughing Seed for a late lunch, where Tim met up with us (and Jane stopped by with Nant). Our full stomachs drove down to Dirty Jacks for a pitcher of their cask porter outside in the sunshine. At this point we thought we might as well visit as many breweries in town as possible, so we walked around the block to Asheville Brewing for pitchers of the Scottish Ale (a personal favorite) and some serious games of Cornhole. The sun was setting, so back to my house to pack a bag and caravan to Brevard. We made a big dinner of veggies, rice and peanut sauce, all got in our mummy bags and watched “Bourne Supremacy” (Jason Bourne is my future husband and I wanted to show him off) before crashing mightily onto our respective thermarests. And then came the giggles. Out of control. Everyone. I was choking from laughing. This morning my stomach muscles hurt. Love it.
Kind of goes along with the previous post—being with your people can make all the difference. Outdoor educators are a motley bunch but they get each other, and it is a mighty feeling, being understood.

My People

My friend Hatcher called me on Wednesday night to see how I was doing with the whole breaking up and moving on thing. I was busy trying to decide between cowboy boots or chacos (you know, the more important decisions in life) and she asked me why. “Oh, I'm going on a date,” I said. She laughed and didn't quite believe me. I told her about the strange and hilarious rash of dates I've had recently and her reasoning for it was so fitting. “Well, you are finally with your people. I shouldn't be surprised.” I thought that was a perfect explanation for what I've sought for years: my people. I think we are all searching for our people, those who get us, who we get, who make introductions easy and free flowing. And that really is how I feel about Asheville: it is full of people I understand and those who push me a little bit. I don't have to dress up, dumb down, hide passions or walk the line of decorum—I don't have to hide who I am in order to fit in. I feel like it's freed me up to be much happier, much more tolerant. Feeling home has killed my fight a little bit—my edges aren't quite so sharp, my fists aren't so keenly clenched. And that is good for everyone.