Archer

While Roomie, Neighbors and I hung out by the chimnea last night, we chatted about events of the day and I sanded my bow. My good friend Kiliii had made it for me a few years ago, and said that I should finish it. I brought it to Outward Bound, shot up the lid for the fire hose with my blunt tipped homemade arrow, and then didn't use it for years. I am embarrassed to say that I left it after caretaking for the winter, and didn't see it again until a friend brought it to town. I told him, "That looks like my bow!" and he said he found it in a closet.

So now, years later, I'm sanding the part where there was a leather backing (that peeled off and turned into rawhide) and looking to get it restrung. Roomie and I might get some hay bales for the backyard, too.

In my yoga class, the "guru" says to not worry about what your body or mind can do at that moment, but rather take aim (like taking aim when shooting a bow and arrow) and then let go. I'm going to get my bow ready.

Bending Sheep and Bloody Cheeks.

We did some search and rescue practice (including fake blood and skin and bruises) on the last

TAASC trip. As a mountain biker went by, one girl said calmly, "I have a broken leg!" He looked at the field of bloody kids and a few adults standing around. I was drinking tea, and he kept riding. Here's a glimpse of some blood and a girl practicing a head to toe body exam. I couldn't find good photos of fake bruises.

One story involved some kind of gnome attacking while another one had a squirrel as the perp. We had lots of "accidents" and I pretended to be a dumb valley girl when the non-patients came down the trail. I'd say things like, "Uh, if you know anything about how to treat injuries... like, you might wanna check down there. I dunno. They look bad. Real bad."

After the search and rescue practice, all of the boys decided to get into a couple of different groups and battle. They were fighting over a hill (with sword fighting sticks... we stopped that over and over) and this golden skull (some had seen the new Indiana movie). One group named itself "sheep benders" and the other "duck benders." I don't know how that all came to be, but it was like Lord of the Flies. Here's a shot of them pulling out the Golden Skull (or a decoy! you never know!) from the creek.

And that's why we keep hiking

While hiking up a steep hill, the kids around me whined, "Can't we take a breaaak?"

"Not until the gap. Keep hiking." (Ever the compassionate leader.)

A shy boy said, "Well, at least my legs will be huge."

Another kid, "What?"

"You know, the muscles. They'll be like rocket launchers."

Change of Perspective

I was hurrying into Greenlife at 7:30am on Saturday to get a coffee and bagel before the massive weekend TAASC trip, when I saw Stupiddaddy and his smartkids (ages 6, 4, 2?) getting out of their minivan.

I said, "Hey there." (As the kids ran to a car with two poodles in it.)

He said, "What are you up to?"

I said, "Getting coffee before a TAASC trip."

(As I brushed my mess of hair out of my face; considered if I washed my face; clenched a ziplock bag that held my wallet and phone; pulled on my shorts, which stuck to my butt where I had to patch them with duct tape...)

I asked him what they were doing.

He said, "Brunch."

I said, "Brunch at 7:30am?"

He said, "We've been up for a while."

Picture of a Morning

Olive, the reddish brown bloodhound across the street is sitting up on her chaise lounge on the porch. She has a companion, a rottweiler who looks more vicious than Olive, but who only attacks when people are at the gate. Olive actually bit Neighbor last year. Now, though, she's chilling.

I'm taking a short break from my grant writing. Shadows of the maple leaves mottle the porch floor, and it's chilly enough to wear a fleece and down booties. The temperature feels a like a Berkeley summer morning--without the fog.

I hear birds, of course, a hum of traffic, and a rotating saw and hammering on the construction site around the corner. I feel like I'm going to sneeze.

I smell rosemary, which is seated beside me.

The sky is true Tar Heel blue.

Inside, Tucker is napping on the couch. His feet are twitching and he is whining like a little kid who doesn't want to do something... "Aww, I don't waaaaanna"

Our weeds are out of control in the front yard; I call it the freedom yard. Roomie planted all kinds of impatients, zinnias, basil, and other herbs in pots out here. If I weren't about to fill in grants explaining needs, goals, and outcomes, I would just sit and watch the day.

Burns burns burns like a ring of fire

After I read Lyssie's post today about her obsession with a book that shows burns and lacerations, we spoke briefly about having pencils lodged in cheeks and pitchforks in feet. I told her to take a Wilderness First Responder course because you get to pretend (with real looking blood and burns and stuff) that you are injured. And then you get to bandage them and whatnot.

I also love this stuff. Although I don't want people to get injured-- especially on my courses-- I love the pictures and practice.

As we were talking, I told her about a conversation I overheard in the library last month.

Players: man in mid forties and woman in early twenties... study partners? both taking classes at UNCA

Man (in low baritone): It just burns, you know? It burns like when you get stabbed with a knife, you know?

Woman (wearing gingham or something): No, I don't know about that.

Man: Well, it burns.

Domestic Violence Fact

I was just doing grant writing research for the NC Outward Bound Women of Courage Program (which is a special course for survivors of domestic violence or sexual abuse).

When I looked on the website for the NC Council for Women and Domestic Violence Commission, it stated that it receives a portion of its funding from marriage license fees.

It struck me as a strange link-- this "marriage" of love and future planning and hope that go into weddings and this hand up for those whose relationships have not been full of good feelings.

Hopefully this portion of the marriage fee will help survivors of domestic violence regain the feeling of love, support, future planning, and hope.

Turkey Pen Moonlight

This weekend, we went with the older TAASC kids to do some reconnaissance for the younger group's summer trip. First, we found many bridges (suspended from cables) for many creek crossings.

As the day went on, the kid in the picture below was always in the water. (In this photo, Connor is barking to his "sheep" to get out of the water.)

Soon, our beautiful bridges disappeared, the trail became thicker as we hiked through the creek over and over and over and over...

At one point, the boys in the picture below (red hat and dark hair) scooted across a log. When we got to the next crossing, they told the water boy to pull a tree that was half in the water across to make a "bridge" for their crossing. This tree was probably 40 feet long.

Notice how he's trying to do it.

Notice how the boys are watching him. At one point, they told another boy (who is called Bite Size because he is about half of water boy's size) to help. It didn't exactly work.

We walked through the water on this one.

This picture below was taken while were still hiking in the day light. Don't I look tired in that picture? Sass and Cousins came to town this weekend. Because of this Saturday-Sunday trip, I wanted to make use of the Friday night with my Sass. It was fun.

I don't have any pictures of the night hiking. It was a long hike, and we were still crossing creeks when the sun was down. As the front of the line groaned, I laughed and knew that we were about to cross another one.

In the end, we finished the night by:

• hiking
• watching the three boys above race through thick, horse manure-full mud (water boy losing both of his shoes in it)
• seeing the almost-full moonlight reflect off of the creek
• hearing Bite Size say, "I've never seen anything like that!" about the moon's rippling reflection
• hiking more
• swishing in wet boots
• singing variations of What you gonna do with a drunken sailor
• enjoying a warm dinner
• enjoying taking off wet socks and shoes
• enjoying dry sleeping bags
• enjoying cool air
• enjoying sleeping late on a Sunday morning in the woods.

It was a great way to spend the weekend.

Practicing Diction

RC, the southern belle who works in my office is going to read a sonnet by Shakespeare for her goddaughter's wedding in New York next month. She lamented, "No one will uhndastand a whord I say," and then read the sonnet with hard "r's" like a Northerner.

While we were walking outside today, I heard her mumbling something. When I asked about it, she said, "Whan that Aprille..." and went on with the Prologue to The Canterbury Tales. Now, we all know that Lyssie is an expert at Middle English (I forgot which post that was...), but I was surprised that RC turned to Chaucer to practice her diction. She told me that she had to memorize the Prologue in school. I told her I did too.

Of course she printed out the whole thing for us to practice together.

Yankee Doodle Went to Lowell

I spy with my little eye something new on the link list. Yes, there's a new link for The New Englander.

While the author of this blog is now a die-hard Yankee Doodle, when we met, we were both more Yankee Middle Atlantic-ers. Jersey, baby. The members of New Englander's posse were perhaps the most intelligent, most arrogant (in a good way), most aloof AP English fans that I had ever met.

They went to a different school, and I seldom went out with them; however, when I did, I loved to hear them make comments and jokes that stupid (or drunk) people didn't get.

I was sort of afraid to talk... but I thought that crew was great!

So when someone told me about this blog, I read it surreptitiously. After I added a comment to one of his posts, I gave up my cover and never looked back.

I like all of the blogs on my link list for different reasons: tiny tin, stupidmommy, and after the roomdogs are hilarious and keep me updated on their lives; I spy on the runners at toots and sally while getting motivation to keep running; and check out the latest thoughts and projects of my fella kiliii through his post. The Satorialist isn't my friend, but I like his photos of outfits.

The New Englander is a little different. I know him, but not well. He seems to always have perfect grammar. No fragments. There aren't any run on sentences that would just go on and on about woe is me and blabber about mundane things like a really good sandwich with bacon or whatnot. (Was that a run-on? I was trying to do one...) He balances politics and personal opinions well. I like that he seems to think; he doesn't simply recite rhetoric.

This post seems a little flimsy next to his, but different strokes for different folks. He went north and I went south. His blog is worth checking out.

Juxtaposition

Planning the month. Planning the summer for TAASC and Outward Bound. Planning my own personal trip this summer. Planning to XX some names out of my phone (clean up the ol' phone book). Planning some outfits for a fabulous June birthday party.

Long run with Susie D. She bought me a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone from The Hop afterwards... what else after exercising? A beer after the ice cream cone (my body is a temple). Long conversation with my favorite Outward Bound BFF who is graduating from her graduate school program very soon. Fake chicken with Seany Sean.

Otis Redding singing, "Try a little tenderness..."

Horrible things in the world. How do I reconcile this with ice cream and a sunny day?

Does that sound like Debbie Downer?

Le Final du Sandwich

Saw my sandwich maker yesterday. I went with, "Hey, thanks for that bacon. I wasn't expecting it."

He said, "What?" (He looked stoned.)

I said, "Remember, you made me that sandwich and then put bacon on it? I wasn't expecting it."

He said, "I put bacon on it."

I said, "Yeah, and I thought you were joking about it."

He said, "No."

I said, "Well, thanks. It was good."

He said, "You're welcome."

I said, "Okay. Bye."

He said, "Bye."

I was glad that I didn't trip as I walked away. I felt sort of like Deb from Napolean Dynamite.

Perfect Day

Doc and I went climbing at Looking Glass. It was one of those clear, fresh days in which we could see the tops of the mountain magnolias and the rounded "peak" of Black Balsam knob in the distance. Below are Doc's images of our view from the climb, a couple of shots of me climbing up to meet him on a ledge, and one of us pre climb.

Below is a picture of the "eye brow" pockets that are typical on Looking Glass. Doc reminded me why they form: because either the pockets or the rock around them cooled slower, it was easier to erode and made these little pocks with rock jutting above them to make eye brow like formations. I'll figure out more details about this... they are little river beds in the vertical slab.

Interesting conversations. Difficult questions. Reflections while belaying sometimes blue rope, sometimes red. Sunburnt shoulders. Margaritas afterwards.

Sandwich Part II

Went to Greenlife today. Didn't see my sandwich maker. Wondered what I would say if I did see him. Maybe,"Hey, thanks for the pork."
Nope.
Maybe, "Didn't expect you to pack the bacon on that one."
Nope.
Maybe, "Hey, thanks for the bacon on that sandwich. I didn't think you were serious."
Possibly.
Maybe I'll just write a thank you note.

Psycho Love

The New York Times has a column called Modern Love that features essays about relationships, love, and lack of love.

I'm addicted to it.

The editors announced a "College Modern Love Essay Contest" in February, and they just published the winner. I was curious until I read the winner's essay.

I guess it's a good essay, but some of the author's examples of "suitors" seemed like unrealistic representations of "typical" college dating. Other than Paul G., I didn't date much in college, though... maybe I dodged the weirdos that appear in people's early 20s.

She did admit that some of them were lunatics. Like the guy who spent hours banging on her door while "covering the peephole until he tired himself out." Uh, I would be a little more than creeped out if that happened. I’d probably move.

Maybe this is the way people date these days.

Stay Strong

Readers:

New month and new theme.

May's topic is resiliency. We're exploring resilience both in people as well as in the environment.

We have some ideas and projects in mind; I am requesting your input. Do you have stories about how you or someone you know has not only coped but also thrived in the face of a catastrophe? Do you have an idea about how we can examine this in the environment?

I appreciate any input and information that you have to share.

First Game Done

Haiku for GMAT

Fun time with that test
One more on the horizon.
I'm so tired now.

Exam Shizam

Just as people do "fun runs" for fun, so too am I doing this GMAT exam for fun.

That's what it comes down to.

Is that a way of saving face? Perhaps, but I have had fun taking a couple of practice exams today. It should follow that the real thing will be a hoot.

Why freak out tomorrow when I'm staring at the computer screen in that sterile room with a whiteboard notebook for scratch paper and the tick tick tick of the ever present little timer on the computer screen? Nothing to stress about. Not one thing. I can always take it again...

One more note: while at Beth and Greg's house, I watched part of Wayne Dyer's PBS talk about the power of intention. I really liked it so I looked in this little Dr. Dyer book of daily reflections that they had in their guest room.

I was flipping through and found a quote something like this, "Don't know what to do? Feeling sorry for yourself? Get off your tookus and do something about it." It's not an exact quote, but I still found it enlightening.

Sandwich

Yesterday I went to Greenlife to get some groceries and a chicken and avocado sandwich. It's quite a big sandwich, and I can usually make it last for several meals (if I'm particularly low on cash and not exercising too much...).

Anyhow, when I went up to the counter to order it, the guy behind it said, "Nope. Don't feel like making it."

And I, not knowing if he was flirting or making fun of me, replied, "Oh, well do you want to put something else on it to spruce it up?"

He said, "Yes. Bacon?"

After I said, "That sounds like a good one," the woman who was working with him-- who might have known if this guy was just being mean to me-- seemed to cut through the bull with, "It'll be about 10 minutes."

I said okay and went on to look for milk and bananas. I came back a little bit later, and the guy told me that it wasn't ready yet. I joked, "Oh, that bacon takes a while to cook, eh?" He laughed and I said I was going to look at the books.

When I returned, it was ready and he had a line of people waiting; so I thanked him and went to the cash register near his counter. He asked, "Did you find any books?" I told him no, but a postcard (budget, you know... it's a nice postcard, though).

I paid, said goodbye, and drove to Beth and Greg's house. When I opened the wrapping on the sandwich (so I could cut it into fourths and make it last!), it looked delicious.

I cut into it and what did I discover? BACON! He wasn't joking. I turned to Connor the border collie and said, "Can you believe it?! Bacon!"

He couldn't believe it.

I shared a little bit of the bacon with him and we were both happy.

Sass

Today is my sister's birthday. Sass (or Sassafras, if I'm being formal) and I balance each other out in strange ways. We grew up sharing a room, and I was the Felix to her Oscar.

When I would try to go to sleep at 9pm (but toss and be too tense), she would come in at midnight and fall asleep within a few minutes. When I heard her breathing get deep and slow, I'd kick my covers off and grunt, "Ughhh!" to wake her up; she'd have the mellow and sleepy, "What?"

And I'd retort, "You always stomp in here and wake me up!" Of course it wasn't true. Of course, as the middle child, she would apologize. I'd be passive aggressive and work myself up. This was not my finest moment.

She wouldn't want to do things like go near cliff edges or go fast on a mountain bike, which I enjoy with caution. However, when it comes to other risks, Sass is the calm voice to which I turn. She quells my concerns about, "I'm not productive! What about my career?!" with reassurance. When she was a senior in high school and I a freshman, I freaked out over some homework problem or equation involving fission and fusion. I remember that she explained it to me without a lecture or smirk.

Sass is brilliant. I admire that even though she has her Masters degree in Public Policy from Berkeley, when she realized that she really wanted to be a doctor, she switched paths and started the long journey through medical school. Her interests and passions-- more than appearances and pocketbook-- drive her decisions. What is she doing on her birthday? Working at the free clinic that the medical students started and operate.

I can be completely honest with her. I admire her. I love her.

At least...

When I was 17, a French girl named Anais and I spent the summer together. She lived with me and my family in the US for July, and I went to Paris and Les Issambres (near St. Tropez) for August.

One day when we were lying on the beach, Anais told me, "You know, we like you much better than the Irish girl that stayed with us a few years ago."

I said, "Really?"

She said, "Yeah, she used to throw her dirty wash cloths behind the piano."

Hmm

I should have split that last post into a couple of volumes. It was late and I was processing.