Saint Thomas. Part One

Here are quick glimpses of a week in Saint Thomas.

Morning on the deck overlooking the ocean.
Beach time.

Snorkeling.

Sand castles.

Twister and other games. Ben had many great competitions for us.

Playing on the beach.

Good food at home and in Saint John.

Reading.

Resting.

Playing.

Exploring.

Driving with the top down.

Iguanas falling from trees.

Car issues.

Presidente beers.

Mosquito nets.

Hard Rain is Gonna Fall

***Note about this post: I've included links in this post. For some reason the links are set to open in the same window, which could make for a disjointed reading experience. I suggest you either read all the way through and then go back to see illustrations or right-click on the links and opt to "open in new tab" (as I've suggested with the first Andrew Bird song) to keep the old Optimist front and center. Also, there are three youtube songs linked on here; you might want to play one at a time. Sun in the photos misrepresents today. I'm not trying to micromanage your reading experience. I just aim to take care of you as best as I can. Thanks for reading.***

In between a meeting in the RiverArts district, working on a newsletter, talking with my sister, and working on a taasc business plan, I went for a run.

At first, only little drops of water dashed my brow and I set off with what I thought was a Fresh Air podcast on my little shuffle. Midway to the Grove Park Inn, I realized that Andrew Bird was the only sound in my ears.


(Right-Click here to open this in a new window and listen. Disregard the youtube video that goes along with music and continue reading as you listen...)

As I ran higher into the fog, Andrew Bird's whistling, birds, and sometimes melancholy melodies refreshed and deepened the solemness of a gray March afternoon. As the orchestra of little birds began this one, the rain started pounding harder.

I had the urge to scream in the middle of the street, but instead I ran faster down flow of water back to my house and stretched my arms parallel to the pavement. I smiled at drivers on Kimberly while imagining that they were on the way home to watch Amelie and eat popcorn on a dreary day.


I breathed deeply and felt like I wanted to smell the fresh rain and cry and all in the same inhale-exhale.



I was drenched and warm I took this photo. It is a warrior's growl for the day.

Once again days will be as bright as the Asheville websites advertise.

Here's a little song to end a March 16th post.

So.

In the spirit of my last post and because I don't have any dogs of my own, here are the two dogs and a Roomie that kept me smiling tonight.

Tucker, who is Roomie's dog, is the patient brown lab. CJ, who we are dog-sitting for a few days, is the spunky little gal. They were hoping for treats.

Each Day

The New Englander wrote this post about an accident involving a Connecticut College student who was killed when a drunk driver was driving without lights and the wrong way Highway 395 recently.

We have also had a tragedy at Outward Bound this week when an instructor who was leading a semester crew in Patagonia fell into a crevasse and died. He was 24 years old. In this article, his former teacher describes him as, "'Just a great kid. One who just loved the out-of-doors and every outdoor adventure.'” I didn't know him, but he could have been any one of my friends at Outward Bound.

The office is in a quiet state of shock and action. Although it was a mountaineering accident (which has inherent risk involved), the instructors were doing everything right... the school has never had a fatality... we manage risk all the time... it shouldn't have happened.

To quote The New Englander:

I just want to mention it here in this space as a reminder of how fleeting human life is. In this case, someone who wasn't doing anything inherently dangerous (riding to the airport), serving in a war zone, or in anything other than perfect health was killed suddenly and without any warning. Something similar could happen to virtually anyone at virtually any moment.

So, cliched though it might be, it still bears repeating -- take advantage of every day that you're given.

The other day I was running with Andy and got annoyed when I thought he was making fun of my running pace. I let my ego rouse little irritations when in the larger scope of things, it doesn't matter. It was a beautiful run. I was breathing hard. It was warmer than today. I didn't have to be insulted.

So here's the big picture to me, New Englander:

When considering the larger scope of things, I remember to look at Saturn below the moon.
I love the chickadees as much as some love the nuthatches. I giggle when I hear Sean exclaim, "Holy Crap-aroni! It's Katie Dunn!"

I am thankful for a weekend camping in the rain with taasc kids. I am thankful for those who have made an impact on my life. I allow myself to be vulnerable and truthful even if it hurts.

I choose to worry less about my abs or my bank account and more about how I'm living each day. I can watch The Office late on a school night if I want. I enjoy long runs, warm winter food and wine, and letting my mind rest in mediation.

The year to live becomes real.

Zombie

Things I learned this weekend from my taasc boy teens:

• Zombies are not monsters. They are an illness that use dead bodies as parasites to spread.
• They do not think, but their brains are the only functional organ.
• Therefore, to kill them, you need to smash their skulls and blow up their brains.
• Guns with silencers are the best option to kill them because if they detect you, their moans get a higher pitch and call all other zombies in the area to get you
• Animals can't turn into zombies, but can be killed by zombies.
• Therefore, if you go to a swamp and don't hear the usual frogs and all, watch out because a zombie is around.
• If you don't have a gun with a silencer, a machete or samurai sword will also work
• Zombies can't swim
• Therefore if there is a Level 4 Outbreak (meaning that the zombie infection is all around...) the best place to be is an oil rig in the middle of the ocean where water is distilled and there is enough food.
• If there are zombies on the oil rig, you need to kill them first.
• After a little while (months?), you can go back to land and see if they have decomposed and battle those that are still there

When they wouldn't listen to Greg, and said this was an important dialogue he responded, "Whatever, they aren't real. You are getting your information from some paranoid schizophrenic living on an oil rig."

Karma, continued

Blondish, I think I have a hunch about one of the reasons for my sinus headache.

First, when I am in town, I like to go to Jubilee, a hippie spiritual community/church here in Asheville. It is a fun place and the leader, Howard Hanger, is an amazing and inspirational speaker. It's not churchy, but rather like listening to a TED lecture or something... (okay, maybe not THAT good) they also have a great service outreach program, which I think is cool; for all of their "love and peace, man," they also acknowledge what is going on in the world and actually take steps to make changes.

Sometimes there are crazy interpretive dances, poems or songs that people perform and I think, "Ah, shit, here we go again." But it's amusing and I try not to mock people's art in my mind.

So last Sunday I went to Jubilee and I was in some sort of funk. Freezing rain was coming down and the main message was about trusting... whether the outcome you want happens or not, trusting that all will be okay. I guess I have been trying to think this way about my grad school application, but for some reason I didn't want to hear it.

I think my main distraction, however, was the man who was sitting next to me. Here's a description of him: bald head and that "border hair" that is below the "bowl of bald" was about page-boy length; big square glasses; smelling like a combination of cigarettes and bad breath. 50ish.. Maybe had a fanny pack on, but not certain about that.

I should not be there to judge, and in most cases I wouldn't care what the person next to me looked and smelled like. But this guy was in my personal space.

A little too close, even though our chairs were separated by a little aisle; even though I kept inching away from him and closer to the woman next to me.

A little too loud when singing Desparado (which Howard put into his sermon at various points... We also sang "Three Little Birds" and some Grateful Dead... this isn't really the reason I go there... but the guy swayed and sang as if he were a rasta or Jerry Garcia's little brother, Sigmund). A little too loud laughing at the jokes.

A little too much hand massaging when we were supposed to hold the hands of the person next to us. It grossed me out and I didn't want to be near him.

I was being a bitch.

So I scowled and stayed for most of it, but conviently went to the bathroom during the "greet your neighbor" hug fest.

Then, to easily escape, I stood by the door as the service was ending. I went out into the freezing rain and started to feel my chest and head tighten with congestion. Even the hippie god smites scowling twenty-somethings.

Ah.

Application done and sent.

ugh

I thought I was over this sickness.
Maybe I have bad karma coming my way via sore throat...