Two Weeks

I turned in my written resignation today, which is a little bit terrifying, but I am fairly certain that it is the right thing to do. Probably more than fairly certain, but it is difficult not to second-guess when the prospect of being jobless is as scary as it is. I think, though, that if I am responsible about getting enough sleep and taking my vitamins and watching my attitude/time management, getting a new job (or finding enough tutoring clients, which amounts to the same thing only probably better) shouldn't be too big of a deal. We'll see how it goes.

For now though, I need to tie up loose ends and finish these two weeks, and then I think I'll be heading out to California to visit my cousin Pierce. She's lived out there for ages and I've never been, and she'll probably be moving back East soon, so now seems like a strikingly good time to go. She's near a few other sets of cousins too, so hopefully I'll get several different visits in while I'm there.

Once I'm back: beach with Ian & co.

Happy day-after-Easter, loveys.

I haven't really been writing anything lately, except for short little things on my cell phone which are largely about sunsets. Perhaps I'll copy them over here. I haven't decided.

This past weekend though I was in upstate New York visiting my friend Lindsey and my godson (her son) Ian and his twin sister Adrienne, for their birthdays and, incidentally, for Easter. It was tiring and also really good to see them. Also though, it was cold. And when I stepped off the plane tonight into the warm, humid Virginia air, it was almost like a religious experience. And when Jack and I drove home on the interstate with the windows down, and talked the whole time. And when I walked with Miley through the moonless night, under the quietly, constantly rustling leaves of the trees. And when I smelled the wet dirt and the little creek and the hay strewn across someone's lawn. It is emphatically spring, and I love it. I do not ever want to move to the North.


ALRIGHT. Some of the things I wrote on my cell phone notepad:

4/22--This April morning the sun rises like a rocket, drawn up by invisible strings into the low hanging clouds, from the horizon to some unseen place behind the rainswept cloud bank in a matter of minutes. Last evening I watched the spring in the treetops, the sinking sun kissing and melting through the outstretched arms of warm wood, bathing the earth in green light.

4/24--We're flying through the ethereal world between cloud layers, in a perfect palette of muted white and graded blue. Slivers and spots of light from the setting sun spread softly and quietly across the Western horizon.

And tonight (and this I did not put into my phone), we flew near a thunderstorm on our way between LaGuardia and my hometown. Though I know I look like a small child and a person who has never flown before whenever I do this, I love to press my face up against the airplane window and watch the lightning in the clouds. The clouds themselves are rather stunning--sculpted shapes of the darkest possible gray filling the sky above the city, and enormous banks of it piling up in the distance--but in the darkness they have no definition. Each lightning strike looks like a tiny sunrise, and it highlights the hidden depths of the clouds for the smallest instant. It's gorgeous.

Hey, it's April again.

I guess it's been a few days. Seems like forever. But yes, it's April again.

For days I've been meaning to write about the fabulous sunset I saw on the way to Kelly's house the other evening, but I have felt neither the inclination nor the obligation to put anything down, aside from the initial notes on my cell phone notepad:

The most delicate peach-pink on the softest baby blue, and the whisping clouds in front a dark, pastel lavender. The sky is the only thing that can get away with pastels, if you ask me. A spring sky, post-rain, at gloaming time. Is anything more lovely? And the moon, hanging round and full just above the colored clouds.



I've been taking a WSI class, and I've been trying to coexist with my allergies, and it's just exhausting. The class was Saturday and today, and will run tomorrow and through Wednesday, 7-8 hours each time. I still haven't found the time and motivation to read through the materials, but I'd better before Wednesday, when we're sure to have a test. Red Cross rules rightly state that a person has to score an 80% or above to receive certification, and with the money Camp is paying for this class, I really think I'd better get a certification. So.

I'm enjoying the class though. Just not the fatigue, as much.

Regarding the allergies: I woke up sometime last week with a sinus infection, which has transmuted itself into some sort of dry-and-itchy throated, sleepy, sometimes headachy cough. And my eyes itch and burn.


Sunday, Lorraine and Jr and I responded (for once) to Anna's invitation to join her in dancing at Capital Ale House downtown. It was nice. And I had thought that Lorraine and Anna would hit it off, and they did. Lovely.


I seem to have been practicing self-sabotage on POF. That's probably okay. I've managed to end most email conversations that were going on, some more intentionally than others, and none gracefully. I thought I'd made a friend, back there at the beginning, and maybe I have--but we've hardly spoken in a week or so. It annoys me a bit that a week here is an "omg what's going on" issue, when going a week or more without contacting the vast majority of my friends is barely an issue, if it even rates mention at all. But anyway, I made boundaries and let him cross them, and it dampened my enthusiasm for the relationship. And then today a person I'd thought I might meet asked (or I assume that he'd have termed "send me a picture" as "asking") for a cell phone picture of myself, and I got annoyed and refused, and he got frustrated and hasn't texted since. (This is probably for the best, as I had nearly accidentally double-booked myself for Thursday evening.) It seems to be par for the course for that place to exchange cell phone pictures, but I think it's a stupid game. I don't really have a slew of pictures of myself on my phone, for one thing, but then also, who's to say we'll ever speak again? This is barely even an acquaintance-ship. You do not need to have a picture of me on your phone. And if you're asking because you don't "trust" the pictures I've got posted already, then you're kind of an idiot. One is faked as easily as the other.

That's the second rant I've written on the subject today.

Friday morning, quite early, I fly to Saratoga Springs to see Adrienne and Ian on their birthday. I'll be back Sunday, and Wednesday I'll be leaving for Lafayette, and will return Monday. Friday, or possibly Saturday morning, I'll be driving (or riding along) to Knoxville, to return Sunday. The following Friday, Saturday, and Sunday I'll be participating in a lifeguard training session taught by my friend Art, husband of Camp's director (friend Beth). The weekend after that I'll be house sitting for Sara's family, and do you want to know what's going on the weekend after that?

NOT A DAMN THING.

Mmmm.

Junior came to the movies too, which was awesome, but did not see Red Riding Hood with us. He said that it would be just like Twilight. We said it would not. He was correct, which was kind of a shame. 

None of us (except Kelly and Jr, anyway) had seen each other in what felt like ages, so we hung out in the theater parking lot for a while before going home. I missed them. I missed seeing them and being with them. Taylor makes me so happy, especially. And I missed Junior's hugs. He gives the best hugs of pretty much anybody ever.

Of course, there was that time while Jr and I were playing foot-stomp that a car full of teenage morons drove away and then yelled racial slurs back at Junior. He shrugged it off, because that's how he does things, but I really wished I had a javelin to throw into their car. Or, you know, a grenade. What the F is wrong with people? Seriously? I can't even express how angry and upset this makes me. He's one of my best friends and he's so much fun and he's a truly great guy--but you're going to say the most insulting thing you can think of to him--not even say it to him, but yell it from your car window as you drive away--just because he's black? Fuck you. You're a fucking moron.

Um, but other than the remembering of that, it's been a pretty good weekend. Seeing everybody really was great. And Chloe's home from school for a little while. And I finally caught up on my sleep. And the weather today is wonderful, even if I didn't go enjoy it properly at the river or in the woods or at a park. I'll have time later in the spring, and later this summer. AND IN LAFAYETTE. (I finally bought my tickets. Did I mention that? I'm going, suckas. Going alone again, but it'll still be good. I feel like it would be difficult for Festival International to not be good. I'll just have to be more careful this time about removing my contacts after a crawfish boil. For reals. I'll bring my glasses this time, just in case.

Delicioso

We discovered and became quickly addicted to these whilst in Scotland. Thank you, Fisher's In The City (best seafood in Scotland) restaurant. From the bottom of my minty heart.



They, along with scone mix and clotted cream (foods of the gods, I am telling you), can be had here.

So, Scotland.

We took a van up to the airport, and we checked in for our Air France flight by an angel or something. We were upgraded to business class. I had never had much of an idea of what traveling business class would entail, but to give a basic description, it entails unbelievable awesomeness. It is, in my opinion, basically what long-distance air travel should be. Our seats were of a comfortable width, with ample leg room. Each seat reclined within its own space, so as not to affect those seated before and behind it. The food was, for the most part, rather excellent.* We were offered orange juice or champagne (or, in the case of those who couldn't make up their minds, both) after we were seated. There was a selection of complimentary wines. There were hot towels. There were extremely attractive male flight attendants. (Honestly, I suspected that they put the most attractive attendants closest to the front.) There were pillows and (sadly, quite scratchy) wool blankets, and little toiletry packets with eye masks and socks and lotion and travel toothbrushes. There were water bottles and little storage spaces for stuff. There were also individual movie screens with a selection of tv shows and movies and music and so on, but I suspect that that is fairly standard on international red-eye flights. I watched The Karate Kid remake and Inception, not in that order. The first was quite enjoyable, but I'm not going to try to argue that it was extremely high quality. I thought Inception (which I also hadn't seen) was fantastic, but after discussing it with Sara, I will admit that a lack of depth was covered up with interesting ideas like multi-level dreams. Still, I loved it, with the one exception of the stupid "oh, is it still spinning? Will it stop?" top totem shot at the end. I thought that part was a little bit stupid and unnecessary.

Anyway, I'll probably never get to travel business class again, but trust me: I savored every single moment of it.


I managed to stay perky and upbeat through our cab ride to the hotel and a bit of our tea with Sara and Ami and Brian, and then I started to crash. And then I started to get a bit irritable. And then I started to get downright angry. (This tends to happen when I don't sleep enough before leaving for a trip, and then I don't sleep on the trip, and then people tell me that I'm not even allowed to nap until nightfall.) I quietly and rather passive-agressivly ditched the giving-Sara-and-Brian-Christmas-gifts party and went and, dammit, took a nap in my room anyway. What was evidently only fifteen minutes later I felt about 60% more human, and barely conscious enough to talk myself into accompanying everyone on a stroll around the city and the Royal Mile, on the bases that 1. you only get a first day in Scotland once, and 2. Ami's visit only overlapped ours by about 24 hours. I wandered around, 15 feet behind the group, in a near-stupor with an utterly dazed expression on my face for what seemed like days. I watched the hours slide glacially past with mounting horror and a vague sense of panic. Eventually, miraculously, evening came, and I slept. I was late for breakfast (possibly I didn't sleep well? Can't remember), and sat down about five minutes before Ami left to catch her cab. We (Ami, Sara, Brian, and myself) had all spent some time together the previous night in the bar**, though, so it wasn't a total loss. We spent most of our time in Edinburgh wandering the Royal Mile, which is the mile-long (or so I gather) stretch of road connecting Edinburgh castle with the Scottish Parliament and the Queen's castle. It's pretty touristy, but it's nice. We met a schoolteacher who evidently uses his free time to dress up as William Wallace, take pictures with tourists, and flash unsuspecting bystanders with a view of the royal lion tattoo on his right buttcheek. We toured the castle, explored some shops, ate a lot of truly excellent food, and went to the Keilidh (pronounced kay-lee) at Hogmanay, which was excellent. These people know how to do fireworks, and even if the main band conspicuously lacked a fiddler, I loved the dancing.


After Edinburgh (which, I admit, was better and more eventful than I am letting on, but you're getting shafted because I'm tired and lazy) we went to Dundee to visit Sara and Brian's apartment and stomping grounds for a night. Their flat is enormous, and quite nice, even if the alley outside is loud. Very loud. I was struck with a strong urge to stay and live with them. I miss Sara a lot. :o/ All of their favorite restaurants were closed (as we should have forseen, as we were visiting on bank holidays), but we made out alright. The next morning, that being yesterday morning, we took off for a brief visit to St. Andrews and a very sleepy drive to Gullane, which is where I now sit typing.


Key points:

Scotland is beautiful.

The dollar seems far less awesome when visiting the EU, as the euro (not used here) and the GBP rather effectively cut my purchasing power nearly in half.

AMERICAN SCONES WTF. Don't eat that crap. Come to Scotland and try these.

If you aren't careful, random Indian men may or may not try to make out with you at Hogmanay.
   Australians, forever underscoring the excellent rating they already have in my head, carry breath mints at Hogmanay.

Get upgraded to business class if at all possible.

Scots like thistles.

I am going to bed.

































*In all fairness, I should probably note here that I almost never have problems with airline food.

**And when I say "bar," I mean a beautifully furnished and well-spaced set of rooms with an open floor plan, couches, and rather attractive*** bartenders.

***Don't judge me.

Why I love my nose; why I love the world.

Something in the air outside smells like Turkey in 2008. Maybe, to be a little more specific, it smells like Adana. I can't really be sure of that, though. My nose just grabs it, and rejoices, and cries "Turkey!" to the heavens. It smells like Mary Helen's apartment, where I stayed for my first week there, or maybe like a late-morning walk up to Kadifekale in Izmir, to wander the ruined walls and watch all the city but the birds and the wind become still at the afternoon call to prayer. It could be the biting night wind on the way to the covered market in Istanbul. I don't know. But it's Turkey.

It's my blog, and I'll be cheesy if I want to.

Usually after a walk with Miley, if I write, I come home and gush about the magic or brightness of the moon and stars; the way they shone down and dazzled me. Tonight, though, it was my heart that shone. I was just walking along and suddenly, as I turned a corner, I was floating. I have been debating whether to write about it. I was thinking about what I said about David earlier... I'm already losing it. The train of thought that lead me there.

Ah! Tonight I was wearing scarves on my head (as head scarves) because I couldn't find my hat, and I was thinking how funny it was that when I was in Turkey, when I was supposed to have a head scarf, I never did. Every single day I left it in the house or my hotel room, and thus always had to borrow the head scarves from any mosque we visited. And I thought of how wonderful Turkey* was, and how happy I was there, and how it's one of my most treasured memories. And then I was imagining a conversation between us:

Of course I love you.

But the wonderful thing is that I can just say that, mean it, and move on. Not say it and expect to get back together. Not say it and be sad that we aren't together. Say it with no strings, with no fear. Speak love with love.


Then I just floated for a few minutes, grinning at Miley and loving the cold night air, humming to myself and smiling up at Orion, my favorite constellation, whom I almost think of as a friend.

No strings; just love.

And that's all for tonight.






















*Every single time I type "Turkey," I want to type it the Turkish way: Turkiye. But then I feel like I'm acting all elitist or something. That's not the word I'm looking for, but I'm not sure the word I'm looking for actually exists. But do you know what I mean. It's the same on the rare occasions that I discuss in print the Aya Sophya/Sophia. In America, it's usually referred to as the "Hagia Sophia"--but that's so ugly in comparison.

My mother is a genius.

I have had a cold, and she has been in New York City. When she came back I asked whether she knew of any way to temporarily remove the left side of my head (earlier I had been thinking front left quadrant, but I realized that that was too conservative an estimate), just until the swelling went down in my sinus cavities. She said no, but she asked what I had been eating and informed me that all of my responses were mucus-producing and/or acidic, and when we got home she brought me a little peppermint oil on a tissue and told me to breathe it in and spread a little under my nose. She explained that peppermint is anti-inflammatory. I know this of course, but my brain doesn't connect the "I have a cold" > "my sinus cavities are inflamed" > "I need an anti-inflammatory" > "peppermint is an anti-inflammatory" dots. So anyway, now I feel a little like someone is holding a chunk of dry ice under my nose, but the stabbing sensation inside my sinuses has subsided, so that's nice. On the plus side, I can now move air through the left side of my head. On the downside, it is becoming increasingly difficult to move air through the right side of my head.


On another unrelated note, I bought a new camera for Scotland*. My old one is still functioning, but seems to be on its last legs--and if it died during or just before the Scotland trip, I think I might kill someone. So really this is all** in the interest of homicide prevention.


With my mother in NYC, I had to get up earlyish this morning to help my dad get ready for work. This worked out well, as I began waking up as a side effect of the cold around 7:30. My point though is that I tend to forget how much I love mornings. How gorgeous they are. How delicious they smell, even through my current haze. It was lovely. I also always, always utterly forget how amazing the morning light looks in the fall, when the sun shines in through the trees and fills my bedroom with a deep red light. That was closer to six, when I wasn't quite as conscious as I now wish I had been. It was really beautiful.






















*For my trip to Scotland, I mean. Not "for Scotland," exactly.

**I put hours of research into this decision. Do you see what a good civil servant I am? Completely selfless, even if I do say so myself.

Experimental Baking

We tried the chocolate chip orange muffins. Pro tip: Grind up the chocolate chips a bit in the coffee grinder.

Other pro tip: ignore the part of the recipe where it never says to add any salt.

Third pro tip: make it more orangey. Also, more chocolatey.



Tomorrow: Connecticut! We will be getting up way too early.

Important Announcement

Attention: the first bright and shiny outdoor decorated tree is decorated! It lives just at the end of my street, so I get to look at it every time I pull out onto the main road at night. Love.

            (The holiday season is heralded by NPR jazz playing on the car radio as green and red and white lights flicker and flow through dark, misty rain-shined streets. Also, brightly decorated outdoor trees.)



Tonight I went home to have dinner with my parents and walk Miley--but as I believe I have mentioned*, Miley needs to be walked late at night if she is to be expected to refrain from waking my mother at 4 or 5 am. After dinner, therefore, I retired to my room and began playing dress-up with my new boots (by the way, my boots came in the mail yesterday), ostensibly in an effort to find something to wear on the plane to Scotland. I really did (mostly) start out with that aim, but it quickly degenerated into "let's figure out how many things I can get away with wearing with grey boots and orangeish-yellow tights." Since "get away with" is a relative term and at times like this I have very little shame, it turns out that the answer is "a lot." But still, if I am going to have any success on my campaign to bring color to Dundee (where, I have heard, nobody wears any colors), I am going to need a lot more pairs of colored tights.


I am house/pet sitting again for Sara's parents, and I have just run out of Bailey's. This is so uncool. I might have to go to the ABC store tomorrow like an alkie** and get some more.


On another note,
Linked on facebook by my friend Cliff




















*I mistyped this at first, but evidently "mentioend" is a word***.

**This is one of those sometimes-mildly-frustrating abbreviations that are spelled in ways that don't really relate to the parent word. Technically this should be "alchey" or "alchie," which are totally unsatisfying spellings, and misleading in terms of pronounciation. I guess the accepted spelling ("alkie") can be justified by categorizing it as slang. I guess.

***Actually, it appears that this computer (or this browser?) has spell check turned off. Good to know I suppose, but now I'm worried that everything I am writing is riddled with typos. Just yesterday I realized that the last formspring question I had the honor of answering was answered with a "to" where a "too" should be. I was mortified. Someone please, please have mercy and give me something else to put at the top of my page.  Not that anyone is reading that stuff, but I have my pride.

I am on the internet.

And I am in Maryland. I should be in the shower, but I have this procrastination issue. So really I should be in bed, having taken a shower earlier, because I'll be getting up before ten am. (The horror!) But actually I'm here, in Maryland, online, having watched four(ish) successive episodes of that one show about the Mormons, and read during commercials, and then gotten online.

I had quite the adventure getting here. I left RVA a little before 2 pm, and didn't get picked up by Jill (I'll get to that momentarily) until after 8. Everything was going smoothly, aside from that part where Pennsylvania Avenue never materialized and I drove through DC in rush hour traffic looking for signs to 295, until I noticed that my engine was smoking hardcore and I was stuck in the middle lane. I hastily hung up with Jill and Geoff who were most helpfully giving me new directions and shouldered my way into the right lane and pulled over. I opened my hood and was able to discern through the spray that a hole had appeared in my upper radiator hose, and thus the entire engine (and, momentarily, my face) was being bathed in radiator fluid. I really didn't want to call AAA during rush hour, so I walked to two gas stations looking for duct tape (of course they ddin't) and then called and texted Susannah and Chris(tina) looking for duct tape and asked people for duct tape and put a sign in my car window begging for duct tape. Sweet Susannah, who is an angel, was prepared to make a 75 minute trip to bring me some, and had actually just begun it when I saw a man in a work van a few yards away. He had duct tape! He even came over and wrapped my radiator hose for me! However, he also had me leave my radiator cap extremely loose. I am all for loosening it slightly to allow pressure to escape, but this was a barely-clinging-to-the-threads loose. I couldn't really say "thanks for rescuing me, but I'm going to ignore your advice," so I went with it. I don't really know whether that ended up being a problem or not, but I got back on the road and drove a little way with a little hood steam but normal temperature reading, and drove maybe ten miles (I have no idea) when my engine temp suddenly shot up. So much for not calling AAA. I called, by this point it was getting close to six, and was told that I'd have a tow within about 45 minutes. The problem was that I didn't know where I was, and so neither did the wonderful, kind, helpful people at AAA. Eventually Jill reminded me that I had crossed in to PG County, and I relayed this information, and then later a tow truck driver stopped (tragically, he was bound for another breakdown) and told me where I was, and I relayed that information, and finally I was found around 8:00. The tow truck driver was from El Salvador, and he was very nice. He didn't speak a whole lot of English, and I speak very little Spanish, and yet somehow, "tu entiendes mas espanol tu me caiste muy bien amor de primera." I made the mistake of responding to a "gracias" (for the tip) text with "denada," which clearly means that I am fluent in Spanish and that Wilfredo and I are meant for each other. So that's an interesting development.

In any case, all of my time in the car gave me a chance to do a little reading and to write the bulk of a letter that I have owed Larry for, oh, well, I don't want to talk about how long. Many months, at the very least. Possibly more than a year. I really am not sure, but he's a little miffed. Not angry, I think, but he has reminded me several times. (The most recent reminder was while I was sitting in the car by the highway reading, as it happens.)


Visiting Jill and Geoff has been nice. Jill tried to terrify me before I arrived, telling me how challenging their kids are (they've adopted two--one who was a drug baby and another who was a preemie and a shaken baby) and how I should just ignore their dogs if they try to eat me. Thus far the kids are kids (I had met them before, anyway) and the dogs are really sweet and adorable. The female and alpha, Kimba, does have some problems (as in, attacking problems) with other dogs at times, but with those in the house she is extremely sweet and affectionate. Jake is the oldest and is a little insecure, but still sweet, and Rex is the newest addition--a miniature daschound who tries desperately to make out, and then settles down and groans whenever he is moved. (The other two are Boston Terrier mixes, and are surprisingly large, given that knowledge. Not huge though...25 or 30 pounds, maybe?)
Today we all went to a pumpkin festival out in the booneys, and then went to Jill's parents' house for Geoff's birthday dinner. It was delicious. Jill and Geoff, by the way, are of the family that my family visits in Arkansas periodically, and thus are Larry's cousins and friends of my parents as well as myself.
Tomorrow we'll be heading to my first-ever Ren Faire, and also I'll be trying to replace my radiator hose myself. I don't really know what it takes to remove and replace the clamps that hold such a hose in place, but whatever it is, I'm hoping that I can duplicate it because a) I don't want to pay someone else to do something so simple, b) I want to go home tomorrow because I don't like changing my plans, and c) I want to go home tomorrow because I haven't told my parents that there's anything wrong with my car, and I don't want to explain over the phone.


Lastly, I haven't listened to the music in question yet, but I really like this entry. You might like it too.

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?

I seem to have this thing about having things for guys when they're around. And "things for guys" I of course mean in the "I have a thing for you" way, rather than the "here is an object I would like to give to you" way. Cases in point:

I love/loved/whatever David when we were together, and I am fucking wrecked when we are or have recently been together (in close proximity), but then when I'm away from him for a while I'm pretty much okay.

I had forgotten until they arrived, but I've had a thing for Larry pretty much since we met. I mean, we met when we were 9 and 10, but we started talking about five years ago I guess. That's fine when I'm in Va and he's in Arkansas, but when we're staying in the same house it's a little bit of an issue. Unfortunately, or probably fortunately actually, considering my state of heartbreak and our geological proximity, my crush is unrequited.

I am so glad they came though. I mean aside from finally getting that "I've had a thing for you every time I see you forever and you are infuriatingly unreadable" thing off my chest, it was great to see them both.

Um, did I write about this before? Ryan and Larry, Erickson brothers, came to visit last Sunday, and stayed till this Sunday morning. We all sucked at finding stuff to do, for reals. Monday we did...nothing. Tuesday I think we got Thai food and cupcakes and went to the VMFA, and Wednesday went to St John's church downtown. Or the other way around. Thursday we went up to Jimmy and Missy's for caving and baby lamb feeding, and it was during the caving trip that I cranked up the awkwardness. Luckily there was distracting stuff to do, like not smashing into sharp rocks.

And now Chris is here! Want to know what we did today?

Here, let me remember some of these things that I keep thinking about writing and then forgetting to write lately.


1: My contacts weren't ruined after all! Only unusable for two days. Did I mention how glad I was to have brought my glasses to Lafayette?

2. I had been pushing from my mind for days the fact that "Big Bill," my godmother's husband, dropped dead on Saturday morning, but that was less possible once the visitation and funeral rolled around. I still can't believe he's gone--as in, I kept looking around for him at his own visitation, funeral, and funeral reception. I can't even imagine how my godmother, who had been with him since she was fifteen and he seventeen, must be feeling. He was 71. She must feel like her world is coming down.
Evidently he had had this heart condition for years, and almost everyone except myself knew that one of these days his heart would stop.
      I am really tired of, after people die, wishing that I had known them better. Will I ever learn?

3.Went to dinner with a friend from college yesterday, and might hang out again today. Should be fun, if we can meet up again. And I've never been to a museum opening..

4. Angela called yesterday and invited me and Jr to dinner tonight! I need to ask Kelly, as A.doesn't have her number. Keep forgetting.

5. Did I mention how I had totally worn myself out over the past weekend/April, thus causing a temporary depression? Perhaps not. I did. I'm really just glad I recognized the reason behind it. Anyway, I should probably slow down. Good thing I'm going to multiple dinners and a funeral this week, and then possibly FroRo this weekend, and then my birthday on Sunday (really should make plans for that..), and then Chris is visiting the week after next, and then Sara is coming home, and then Larry and Ryan are coming to visit, and then there is Susannah's wedding, and then Camp and then the beach and then more Camp. GREAT. You know? Nothing I want to miss at all, but certainly not a schedule that encourages much relaxation. Oh, also Kelly wants us to go tan at Vabeach before the wedding, and that sounds good if we can find the time. Oh yeah and I'll be doing TESL class make-ups for 9 hours a day Saturday and Sunday during the third and fourth weekends in May. Pretty awesome, right? I thought so too. God help me.

Back to real life, and a post from Friday

I miss David. Again. (Still?)

I have done a fair job of distracting myself recently, mostly, but it all settles back onto my shoulders once I'm home and sitting still. There are no more distant cousins to visit, no more Japanese plums to eat, no more bands to see, planes to board, or calls to make for the moment. No more money to spend. I flirted with Paul (who came to sit and speak with me but politely ignored any further advances), which helped for about a day, then I slid again. I stared starry-eyed around Lafayette and the surrounding towns, and that helped some. I spoke to Larry, and he usually makes me laugh, and that helped too. But now I'm home, and there are dishes and clothes to wash, and I have work tomorrow, and I miss snuggling into David's warm arms and feeling him breathe against me.



Written Friday, at Martin's house:


Well I'm standing on a corner in Lafayette, state of Louisiana,
wondering what a city girl can do
to get a little conversation,
maybe drink a little red wine,
catch a little bit of those cajun boys dancing to zydeco.


I've been marinating in the deep Southern air of Lafayette, and watching cajun boys dance to zydeco, and wishing I knew how. I've been imagining myself living here (Martin has vague plans to jack up his house and build a liquor store beneath it, which I have volunteered to run), and wondering whether I would love it. I wish I had more time here, time to wander and swim and see the countryside instead of just the inner city. Martin's house, I hear, used to be big before the city decided to build a parking lot over it. Now it's three rooms and a small garden of old country air hidden away by a faded blue fence from the bass-blasting cars, busy streets, and smashed beer cans and cigarette butts of downtown Lafayette. The liquor store idea has arisen because some developers are trying to buy Martin's property and a few other properties nearby so they can build what will essentially amount to a slum. They're offering a pittance, and Martin doesn't plan to sell. He's talked like he might be willing to buy another property in the area instead, but everyone is asking, in his opinion, too much money. (I know nothing about property value in this town or any other.) Anyway, I'm not sure whether the liquor store thing is an idea he's been kicking around or whether it really somehow arose from this developer issue, but that's the context in which it came up. And I haven't ever exactly dreamed of selling liquor (or anything else) from behind bulletproof glass, but it might not be such a bad gig, at least for a while, someday. And I'd have this nice little apartment probably rent free, and a little garden, right here walking distance from all these restaurants and clubs and museums and parks in the city where my ancestors lived and loved and worked. My family helped build this town, you know? I have roots here. There's a statue of one of my forebears in front of the old courthouse. And there are huge beautiful old trees all over, dripping with spanish moss, and there are street signs and names in French, and the storm drains have signs on them that say "no dumping. drains to bayou." I know that these things are exciting to the romantic side of me, and that none of them would be exciting anymore if I lived here for real, but that's ok. Did I mention that Martin's actual house, the one where he really lives these days, is on the water? It's about 40 minutes away I think. I could canoe forever.

Days spent in Lafayette: 3.5

Nights spent in Louisiana*: 4

Items bought:
rings (3)
necklace (1)
hammock (1)
Festival t-shirt (1)
Festival water bottle (1)
Festival pins (2)
Festival flip-flops (1 pair)
bracelet (1)
strawberry daiquiri (1)
(Total: $136.50. Ouch. But then, I had been saving up and planning to actually buy things at this festival, because usually I go to fairs and festivals and buy nothing at all.)

Items narrowly escaped:
belly dancing skirt ($16), brightly colored hanging cotton lampshade ($25), fleur-des-lis necklaces ($25 or $32), Mucca Pazza cd, La Excelencia cd, Lunasa cd.

Tan lines acquired: flip-flop**, tank top, off-the-shoulder t-shirt, possibly skirt. (Total, 3 or 4, counting flip-flop tan lines as one.)

Festival International plastic cups collected: 25***

Crawfish boils attended****: 1
Crawfish etoufees eaten: 1
Crawfish eaten: a lot

Internet connnections available at Martin's house: 0

A realization: Richmond, Va radio < Lafayette, La radio

Sunburned body parts: ~6

Bayous explored: 0

Fleur-des-lis acquired: 0

Bands listened to for the first time: 18

Cajun foods eaten: 4
     Crawfish etoufee
     Black eyed peas and rice
     Fried catfish
     Crawfish boil

Afternoons/evenings spent hanging out with cousin Martin: 4 (Thumbs-up)


Edit:
Festival International water bottles left on the plane from Baton Rouge: 1

Cds broken upon removal from the case: 1 (De Temps Antan, fml)


Pictures to follow.















*Places slept in: 4
**Time spent wearing flip-flops at Festival: 1.5 days
***People were just dropping them on the ground or throwing them away!
****Pairs of contacts ruined by removing contacts without washing hands thoroughly enough after attending a crawfish boil: 1. (Hot sauce and contacts are, evidently, long-lost bff's. Hot sauce and eyes, on the other hand, do not get along well.)

My brain doesn't feel organized enough right now to write anything, but I've been wanting to or feeling like I should, so hereIgo.

It's funny how songs that have always seemed pretty meaningless can turn true sometimes. This past weekend it was that BSB song (and in case anyone besides Sara was wondering and didn't want to listen, there are lyrics available online. I didn't listen to it either), and this morning it was "Goodbye To You" by Michelle Branch. Not that I'm anywhere near so ready to say goodbye to anything as she seems to be, but I think I could say that most of the rest of it lines up pretty well with, uh, me. Tonight I saw "Glee" for the first time, and it was interesting how relevant "Hello Goodbye" seemed. I don't really know where I was going with that. I'm just interested in the way different things stand out to us when we're at different points in our lives. Different things seem meaningful or important depending on what we have experienced or are experiencing.

In other news, Kelly and I went shopping today (as she was so nice as to give up her shopping trip yesterday to help me leave Chloe a car), and I finally got Ian a Bible. Unfortunately it seems to cost $10 less on the website than it did in the store. Somebody remind me not to shop at the Christian bookstore in the mall. Good thing I have a member card now. I tried on a sweet dress at Charlotte Russe (I had never been into the store and was curious) and then didn't buy it, and now am having second thoughts. But on the plus side, Kelly and I each got jackets in packets from Old Navy on sale! For $4! Hers is gray and mine is superawesomegreen.

By the way, Glee is awesome.
"What do you guys say when you answer the phone?"
"Sup"
"Who dis is?"
"No, she's dead. This is her son."
Enough said.


Daniel, if you are reading, I hope Korea is awesome. I am waiting for blog or buzz posts about being in Korea. Everyone, Daniel is in Korea! It's like I have a spy over there to see what it would be like to go. Or at least it would be, if he'd hurry up and post more stuff. So far I know that if you fly over there, the admins of your school or whatever will book you in a sex motel (featuring erotic murals) the night before you move into your apartment. Awesome.

And Chris, I'm sorry I couldn't pick up the phone! I was buying my future godson a Bible. Talk tomorrow? Evidently tonight I am too tired/lazy to send actual emails to people.

Love to all. Goodnight.

Thursday.

Ok, first things first:

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Now on to other business.

- My chapstick fell the other day from my bedside cabinet onto (ostensibly) the floor, but seems to be somehow hiding itself. Since I don't feel like moving all the boxes of stuff that are under there, I guess I'll save it for when I run out of this other tube that I stole from Chloe yesterday. Thumbs up for being the only one in the house that likes Burt's Bees Honey Lip Balm.


-I bought this really cool necklace at the Maple Festival, but I didn't mention it because I was too busy moping. If I end up finally putting my pictures on my computer in a minute like I plan to, I will show you what it looks like. It's a "hand-painted Russian pendant." I'm not quite sure what makes it "Russian," as I'm fairly sure that the odds of finding an imported Russian work of art at a craft booth in Highland County, Va are pretty low. I liked it though, and it was fairly cheap.

-I like the colors I am wearing today: yellow "Cheerios" t-shirt, purple zip-up hoodie, orange baseball cap, blue jeans. It's possible I will put up a picture of that too, because I am into pictures right now.

-David seems to be doing better. That is, he seems to have a little bit of energy, and some things to say. The downside of that, of course, is that now our breakup is starting to hurt for him. I think I've sort of closed myself off to it again, for the most part. Just not thinking about it much, you know? When I do, of course, it's sad. Speaking of David, I'm trying to decide whether to go up to RMA to hang out with him and some other people tomorrow night. I'd like to go; I miss everyone and I'm not sure I'll get another chance, really, to see these people together. On the other hand, I'm not sure how I'd react to hanging out with David, especially with the possibility of there being alcohol involved. I just don't know how to handle myself yet, I guess, and I don't particularly want another meltdown. Argh. I don't know.


-I am thinking of trying to make frozen yogurt this weekend. I was hoping to do this with my mentee, and she seemed amenable to the idea, but she still has not told me when she's free. I guess there's still some time. Anyway, it shouldn't be too hard as long as I can find all the pieces of the ice cream maker. I mean, you put yogurt in, you turn the handle. How far wrong can you go? I feel like it would still taste good even if I didn't add anything at all. This project inspired by Sweetgreen.


-I smile (read: grin like an idiot out of nowhere) every single time I think about Festival International. I am so excited.


-I had a dream last night that some guy (who seemed to be a combination of a guy I knew in highschool and a guy who works at the bank near my job) wanted to take me on a date or something, and I kept crying that I was not a good person to date right now, that I'd just come out of a really long relationship, that I was in no shape to be starting another. I guess he followed me or something, or maybe I reluctantly gave in? I don't remember there actually being any sort of date, but sometime later a woman who I think was Mrs. Duggar gave one or both of us a talking to about how the whole thing was a bad idea. I remember thinking she was great, but I've forgotten pretty much everything else.


-It was Zachary's sixth birthday today, so we got to go have dinner with Holly and Brian and the kids, who honestly do look older every time I see them. Got some pictures of that too. My aunt Cary was excited about the shad roe we have in at work, and was planning to come get some before we opened until I remembered that we probably won't have any until noon. So I'll give her a call then. Whoops.

-Spring is so wonderful. If you're in anything but a deep depression, you just can't help from grinning on the day that it is finally so warm that you have to drive with both windows fully open. And then the light turns green, and that song comes on the radio, and you're soaring. The buds have been on the trees for a few days, but last night I noticed that they've grown enough to change the silhouettes of the branches against the night sky. Today the blossoms were out, pink, purple, and white, and the taller trees looked like someone had spray painted  them with one pass of neon green. Forgive the urbanity (using the archaic definition) of the metaphor.

I love Ok Go.

Did I mention that? That I love Ok Go? Ok Go makes me feel love. Observe:


OK Go - This Too Shall Pass from OK Go on Vimeo.



Also, here is all of the already-planned stuff I am trying to do in the upcoming month.75, in chronological order (life gets so much more busy, come springtime):

Princess and the Frog/Invictus with the family at the local second run theater
Thin Mint buying or 'thin mint' making w/Kelly
Joco/They Might Be Giants show w/John
Christina's birthday party in DC
Kelly's birthday
something for Sara's birthday, if possible
Easter (April, weekend 1)
staff retreat (April, weekend 2)
Ian's baptism in upstate NY (April, weekend 3)
Festival International de Louisiane (April, week/weekend 4. This one might be a stretch.)

In May/early June:
my birthday
Susannah's birthday
Chloe's birthday
bridesmaid day trip to King's Dominion/Barenaked Ladies concert
rehearsal dinner
wedding
helping David move, I'm sure
David's birthday
work on weekdays, Camp on weekends. Probably.

Holy crap.