The party went well.

By the way, I was planning a surprise party for my mother. But she reads this blog sometimes. And it stressed me out to no end--I really do need to keep working on managing stress better--but it went well. Everyone who said anything to me about it (and that seemed like a good number of people) was very complimentary. And they said I looked very festive. There were a lot of compliments on that outfit, but a lot of weird looks and such too. Whatever. My mood had been hellish not too long before and I needed colors and craziness. I don't know if there are any pictures. Sara might have some.

I'm still recovering. I'm not as wrecked as I thought I would be, but I have been really dragging. A woman I work for gave me some really nice vitamins (a week's worth!) this morning though, and I think that the ones I have taken are helping (!), so that's nice.


Tonight: Breaking Dawn with the high school crew. I don't even care what you think.

A sleepy reflection

A new (to me) love song came on the radio as I drove home today from Camp, and suddenly it seemed like such a great time to fall in love*. The world just felt like things were clicking into place, and (despite the fact that I rarely meet new people) this could happen any time. Bam. Soulmatehood.

I mean, this shouldn't be too difficult, right? I'm pretty awesome. You, theoretical mystery man, are pretty awesome too. We'd be great together. So it's cool, you can go ahead and show yourself now. No need to be shy. Just step right on up. Let's buy some finger jewelry and make a whole bunch of babies.



I say that like I'm good at relationships. Love songs (and the effects thereof) are so ridiculous. Annnd just a little bit frustrating.



In other news, this:

It was 7:40 am. Eye circles are my prerogative. Taken post-staff-morning-yoga, and at the swim hole, obviously. I've gone to morning yoga twice now (that makes two and then three times in the past ten years that I've intentionally woken up before staff meeting), and each time at the end I leave and walk toward the creek. I stop fifteen feet shy of the water and take off my shoes as though I'm stepping onto a holy ground of old concrete and grass and gravel, and walk carefully to the ladder, descend three steps, and sit down with my feet in the water. The slanting sunlight is savoury on the water--rich and delicate. And when I run my hands along the skin of the stream, it feels like cool silk. I've been late to staff meeting both times.

And this:

This is Daniel, and he is magical, and this picture took us about fifteen tries to take. We ran out of time during snorkeling interest group time, and then finally succeeded (with a camper behind the camera this time) at Pool Night. 

And look where I get to work:

I like this picture. Please don't steal it.

*Yeah, I know. Weird.

Today is Thursday. I dislike thinking of titles.

I tutored for a total of four hours today. It was pretty awesome. Also, since the last hour was accidental (helping S prepare for finals and kind of lost track of how far over-time we were going), we decided to skip a meeting next week. I didn't realize it at the time, but this meeting (I'm pretty sure) happens to be the one that would have prevented me from going to a movie night at Maria's. Awesome, no? 

In other news, I was stalking my friend Danny's former profile pictures when I came across this gem. I nearly cried. 

His comment below was "AND THEY DON'T MATCH YOUR FUR AT ALL."

I just felt like it needed to be shared.

Parallelism

Lately I have been noticing parallel structures in the seasons the way I notice it in sentences and paragraphs. The way the wind puffs its cheeks and blows the wintry snow from the trees is the same as the way it blows the autumn leaves, letting them fall in a dancing, glorious rain across the street. The way the snowflakes swirl in the wake of the cars is the same as the way flower petals swirl across the road in a colorful, joyful carpet of spring. And our little creek runs through it all, cold through the snow, carrying petals in the spring and water skaters in the summer and then leaves in the fall. The swim hole fills with leaves in the fall that must be dug out in the spring to make room for more fish and for all our warm bodies in the summer.

Two more things:

First, Emma has written a beautiful, haunting post about a fire in her apartment building. I can't put my finger on what gets me about it, but there's definitely something.

Secondly, an acquaintance of mine posted this horrible thing on his facebook. If you have any attachment to Star Wars, Harry Potter, or Lord of the Rings, then prepare to be offended.

I felt that these needed to be shared.

They aren't mine though--they were forwarded to me by my dad from an acquaintance of his, or a friend of a friend. (So please don't steal them, etc.)

Can you tell what this is a picture of?

A dam, yes. Of course. But what are those dots? Let's zoom in a bit.

Dost mine eyes deceive me?

Friend, you are looking at Big Horn Goats. (Or sheep?) And yes, they are walking on the downhill side of a massive dam--Buffalo Bill Dam in Cody, Wyoming, to be precise.





A less amazing thing: I have been wondering whether there is a person employed by Blogger to come up with the words that we are sometimes ordered to copy over in order to post a comment. I ask this because on Blogger pages this combination of letters, while not technically a word, reads like a word. There are vowels and sensical orders of consonants, and often I like them so much that I wish they were words. On other sites I am forced to pound out things like "azx lb," which is far less gratifying.

This is post #301.

Cupcake time?

But here is the point: why I love Flickr; why I am not totally sold on trying to sell my own prints.

Observe.

My blood pressure is rising.

I just traipsed on over to Snapfish with some silly little idea in my head that perhaps, if I wanted to, I could like, re-organize my photos. I uploaded them all into one album for convenience, with the idea of going back and separating them out later. SILLY ME. ALBUMS CANNOT BE REORGANIZED. I am going to flip the fuck out. Is this an overreaction? None of these pictures are anywhere except Snapfish and the desktop at Jimmy and Missy's and they can delete that whenever they want. They may have deleted it already. I will FLIP THE FUCK OUT. I hate the internet.

That's a lie. I just hate not getting my way.





There was a bunch of other stuff I planned to post, which was why I opened blogger in the first place, only I didn't feel like writing anything until stupid Snapfish refused (thus far) to allow me to move things around. Here's this though--a rather humorous post about Apple's devastatingly successful ad campaigns with regard to ipods. Written by a 13 (?) year old fashion writer/designer. How does she do that?

Working on this snapfish thing

I tried some "post to blogger" deal on there which seemed odd and doesn't appear to have worked, but I suppose it might show up in a few minutes. Who knows. Subsequently I realized that there was another "share via link" option, which is what I had been looking for in the first place. So if you're interested in looking through every single picture that was on my camera (minus the ones I uploaded to photobucket and deleted before I realized that photobucket gives limited free storage space) up until this morning, feel free.

Please do bear in mind though that this really is just my entire memory card uploaded onto snapfish. Generally speaking, these haven't been culled or edited in any way. So while I do offer some small apologies for things like emo self-portraits or repeated pictures of my foot slice, I feel that I must remind you that you get what you pay for.

Okay, here is why I love this house.

The wind has come today, and I can hear her as she wanders through the valley, running her hands through the grass, dipping her toes in the water, brushing the dead leaves from the trees.

In the morning, I went out barefoot to feed the lambs and goat, and let them out of their pen. This afternoon I called the lambs (who were rather furious, as they are every other afternoon, to discover that they weren't being fed) back in so that the dogs could go out. Princess had heard me and was already waiting by the door when I came to get her, and she and Jack flowed out the kitchen door in a river of brown and black fur.

For some reason I don't ever want to drive the 4-wheeler, so I picked up the throwing stick, God knows what it's called, that lets me throw the ball a respectable distance, and Jack brought me a tennis ball, and we set off on a meandering walk around the property, me throwing, dogs fetching, returning the ball to me if they wanted it thrown again or running ahead with it if they just wanted to run for a while. The wind and the light and the grass and wildflowers and mountains, the landscape of the fall, were gorgeous. We walked through the upper pasture and then down toward the pond, where we stayed a while so I could throw the ball into the pine shade for them, or into the water. Princess likes to run after the ball, but only if she knows she can reach it before Jack. Whenever she gets it she walks off a little ways and holds it in her mouth, teasing him. He is utterly obsessed with anything spherical, and stands literally inches from her face, panting, waiting for her to drop the ball. It's out of her mouth less than a second before he's carrying it back to me.

The property here is in an L shape, with the pond sort of on the inner corner, if that makes sense. We began on the upper branch of the L, and after staying a while by the pond we walked over the other branch, throwing and catching, losing and finding the ball. I found a rock in the middle of that pasture and sat down to extend the outing, and grinned and threw my arms wide and spoke to Jack as he ran back to me. At one point I asked him, "could anything be better?" And then I realized: no.

At the end we hung around the cave, which is now named Wishing Well Cave, in case I hadn't mentioned that before, and I took a picture of the streamers that have been attached to the structure covering the opening. The structure is there because the cave is entered by climbing down about forty or fifty feet of ladders, and the streamers are there to blow in the constant cool wind that flows out of the cave on warm days. The air coming out smelled of fresh lumber and spray foam, both of which are being used to shore up the loose-rock parts of the cave, of which there are many. The lumber is also used for the ladders, of course.


In other news, I am finally (once again) putting pictures up on the internet, even if most of them aren't being posted here at the moment. I made a photobucket account and uploaded some yesterday before realizing that photobucket makes its money by trying to get you to buy a "pro" account, and thus only allows a limited amount of storage space. So now I'm uploading the rest of what was on my camera to snapfish. Here is a sample:

Tell me this isn't a fairyland. I fricking dare you.

There's really too much to ever write down, so I'll try going by sections.

Saturday: Rehearsal Dinner.

You know, I'm sure that some interesting stuff happened on Saturday morning, but it's not coming to me right now. Maybe later. But we all (most, anyway) met at the Gardens at 3:45ish for the rehearsal, and then waited until about 4:10 for the groom and groomsmen. That was good times. Then we sat inside in the air conditioning until about 4:25 or 4:30. I guess maybe the people in charge felt like they were talking about something important. Mind you, we only had the space to rehearse until 5 pm. I don't want to talk about it. So we ran slapdash through the ceremony and the processions in about 30 minutes, and skedaddled.

I guess I was low on gas and didn't want to drive to the farm, so I left my car at Sara's and rode with her and Brian. On the way we were serendipitously located at the same spot on the road as a very small turtle who seemed determined to have a brush with death. He was truckin along straight onto Patterson, and luckily we figured out what he was in time to pull over and rescue him. I wanted to take a picture, but we were stopped halfway in the road, so I decided against it. Anyway, he was a good sport about the whole thing.

At the dinner, the lights were lovely. The tent was lovely. This guy Tom was trying to fill the citronella lamps I had cleaned with the oil I brought, and when he opened the bottle it sprayed in his face. Good times. Luckily, he managed to avoid catching himself on fire throughout the rest of the night. And let's cut to the chase here--the cake was delicious. (The food was pretty good too.) As soon as I finished my cake, of course, I changed and jumped in the lake. People seemed to be entertained by this, though more people got in later. A few people sat on the dock and asked me to fan some cooler water up to their feet. I did oblige--the ridiculously warm layer was several feet deep, and not nearly as refreshing. Anyway, the lake was good times. The fireflies were amazing, filling the trees and streaking purposefully through the superaqueous air. I can make up words if I want. One of the fireflies evidently tried to mate with his reflection, and was blinking sadly on the surface of the water as Kelly, Chloe and I swam back toward the dock in the fading twilight. I rescued him. He dried on my hand as I swam, and flew away as I reached the dock.

We cleaned up and left around 11, and when I got home I remembered that I'd been invited to Stone's birthday bonfire, which had begun at 8 pm. I called and found out that the bonfire was still in progress, and headed across town to hang out until about 1:30. It was great to see Stone, with whom I have not spent any time since college, and also Robert and Kyle and Mike. I was hoping that Liz would be there, but she couldn't make it. In any case, Robert and Kyle and Stone and I are hoping to start up a weekly poetry writing thing, similar (I think) to what I had hoped Friday Poems with David would be. The difference here is that I didn't twist anybody's arm, and everyone involved has taken and loved poetry workshop classes. David was, I think, just trying to be nice. : )

Some pictures.

Rehearsal dinner setup:

Citronella lamps, out of which I shined the hell. (Before and after.)

King's (Kings?) Dominion:

 

Kelly and me, of course. See that awesome purple necklace I'm wearing? My mom made it on Wednesday. It fucking fell off my neck at the rehearsal dinner, probably in the lake. FML. I am a rotten kid.

Bendy pirate won at the arcade, guarding the heinously overpriced The Intimidator collector's cup, with free refills wrist band. In the background, bendy frog won at the arcade, guarding a strikingly similar cup.

 

 

Rehearsal dinner:

"Groom's" cake. IT WAS DELICIOUS. I really cannot stress this enough.

So, photography wasn't really my focus on Saturday. It happens. More, possibly, tomorrow.

Conflicting interests

I just found this on a blog which I adore, but which isn't updated regularly. This is much to my dismay, as I still check it regularly in fits of blind hope and devotion. Anyway, found. Her friend sent it to her, and I send it to you (caps hers, or her friend's, or her friend's friend's):

THE WORLD’S SHORTEST FAIRY TALE

ONCE UPON A TIME, A GIRL ASKED A GUY, “WILL YOU MARRY ME?”

THE GUY SAID “NO” AND THE GIRL LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER…

WENT SHOPPING, DRANK MARGARITAS,

ALWAYS HAD A CLEAN HOUSE, NEVER HAD TO COOK,

STAYED SKINNY, AND FARTED WHENEVER SHE WANTED.

THE END

The conflicts of interest come in here. Obviously there are some present in the above fairy tale, but here are more I mean. 

I miss, on every level, feeling close to another human. 

When I look up at the night sky, I think of that one guy from Arkansas. I think this is because his brother told me that this guy, like me, loves to walk in the dark. I see symbolism in stupid shit. 

Of course, that's not to say that I can see a picture of David or think about him for more than about two seconds without starting to, I don't know, get twisted up.

And of course I have always liked being single, in the shallow ways illustrated in the above fairy tale. No one to have to coordinate with? Answer to? Pick up after? Awesome.  The only thing more I could ask would be that all this freedom would be worth it.

That line was so emo, even I want to throw up a little. And I mean it's not like it's not true, but I've always had a little flair for the dramatic I guess. I get it from my dad. And my mom. And my brother and sister. My bad. And I mean the other truth, the less dramatic and whiny truth, is that I love and I have always loved flirting. So that's an upside to being single, though I haven't really had much of a chance lately. Which is really a shame. 

Tonight we all met at the farm--the close-to-Richmond farm that is, not the paradise-of-my-childhood farm--and set up those lights that we could for the rehearsal dinner this weekend. They looked rather lovely, if I do say so myself. And you'll just have to believe me, because I didn't take any pictures. I mean, I did take pictures, but they were of the lake instead of the tent. And just now, because I love you, friends, I got up to fetch my card reader and show you those lovely lake pictures. Unfortunately, it would seem that the last time I uploaded pictures (you know, those ones from Lafayette that I promised I'd post and then didn't), my brain went on a union break and it took that sweet little pink card reader with it. I'd like to think that my brain is back at the point, but my magic plastic usb wand appears to be still on vacation. I'll try not to begrudge her the time off. 

To make up for this lapse, here are some birthday-Festival International-baby baptism-home-houseguests pictures just for you:

Happy birthday to me (These are in reverse order, by the way. Mostly. Whatever.)

Stilt walkers at the Festival International.

Crawfish boil*, ftw. And lest you think that pile small...

Crawfish, pre-boiling. There were rather a lot.

Martin's house. You're actually seeing almost the whole thing. (It used to be markedly larger, until the city decided that they really needed to have a parking lot right over top of most of the house.)**

The offending pole.

The offended leg. There's still a bit of a bruise and a knot there now, over a month later. I was talking to someone behind me, okay?

In the parking lot of the Children's Museum.

French street signs!

Cajuns don't mess around.

A piece of the biggest Live Oak tree, um, ever.

Awesome fountain at night...

awesome fountain in the daytime.

Okay, so I know I promised pictures from the baptism(s) and houseguest time and stuff, but this is taking forever and I really should do something about my not-sleeping-until-3-a.m. habit. It's not a very good habit. It's 12:34 now and, as some of you may know, time after midnight flies like the Concorde. So. Peace out.

*If you wear contacts and you ever attend such a boil, then please, for the love of God, do yourself a favor and wash your hands thoroughly before removing your contacts. Then do it again, at least five more times. Use dish soap. Use lye soap. Use the most intense soap you can find. 

Or, better yet, wear gloves every time you touch your contacts for the next three days. I'm not kidding.

**I really have no idea why some of the font on here is bigger than the rest of it. I was fixing it, but then I saw that there was more, and I really just don't care that much at the moment. I think you'll be okay though, right?

Fifty or so links, and approximately one zillion pictures.

For Mother's Day, my mom said she wants the three of us--me, herself, and Chloe--to record three songs together at my cousin's house in the basement recording studio. She wants the first song to be "Come Thou, Long Expected Jesus" and the second to be "Hard Times," by East Mountain South. I want the third to be "One Voice," by The Wailin Jennys.

Speaking of music, I have fallen in love with WMRN, or WNRN, or whatever is 103.1 in Richmond. They play good music. Almost all the time. Plus, they avoid commercials. At the beginning/end of each hour they say "this hour was supported by" or "this hour will be made possible by" and then mention a few companies, and then go back to playing fantastic music that doesn't get played on any other stations. Today I heard music that as far as I know has never seen airtime on any pop stations from She & Him, Macy Gray, Paolo Nutini, and John Mayer. Yeah, Macy and John have definitely gotten on pop stations, but I hadn't ever heard or heard of the songs of theirs that I heard today. I love, I love, I love this station. Ok, I looked them up. God bless you, WNRN.

Sara sent me a care package today! Or rather, I guess she sent it several days ago. But to me was delivered a care package today via USPS (? I am making that up instead of checking) from Sara. It had a cd in it. Good times. I love cds. I am raking them in this week! Two of Mr Robert Marley from Artimus, and one of aural awesomeness from Sara. Yay. Also included in said care package were two pictures by local (at the time of purchase) Vancouver artists, one "Truffle Pig" candy bar, and maybe some other stuff that I forgot right now. It's in my room. If I get up Chloe will steal my computer. Deal.

And now, fotografias.

That time I took Marina to the park:

On how I think pollen is pretty:

Pictures from Camp, including those I took in order to tell the time whilst caving*:

"Does this thing have a time stamp?"

"What time is it? Hey, look at this flowstone!"

"Ok what time is it now? By the way there are a bunch of bats over here. Keep your head low."

"What about now? Take the picture of Kate--her first trip into Crossroads!"

(There were a few more pictures taken in the cave, but they sucked even worse.)

In which Chloe and I set up her Advanced Art installation, much of which included determining the placement of that one mirror we didn't end up using anyway. Also, in which we go check out other peoples' installations:

When I made hummus and some other stuff and mom made most very delicious strawberry shortcake for dessert:

After the movie, when Kelly gave up shopping before dinner to help me leave Chloe a car, because she is Just That Nice and so accompanied me to Chloe's art opening-type thing:

And then when Kelly and I went shopping the next day instead, and got those fantastic $4 rain coats from Old Navy, and actually I bought a green one, and then we took some pictures at my house:

(Don't tell her I posted that one.)

Oh hey, and here is Chloe as Touchstone in Collegiate's rendition of Shakespeare's "As You Like It." Sorry my camera's video and audio are so bad here:

*As we were about to enter the cave, I realized that I had left my phone in the equipment room when I changed into caving (aka baseball) pants. Soon thereafter followed the realization that Kelly didn't have her phone either, and neither did JP. Kate, being seven years of age, does not possess a phone. Obviously none of us wear watches, because we can just check our phones to see the time. Luckily I had my camera in the car, which I thought might have a time stamp. Indeed, my camera has a time stamp--one which is even close to the correct time! So we took pictures throughout our caving venture in order to ascertain the increasing seriousness of our current lateness for lunch. (Cavers are always late for lunch. It's a rule.)