Farewell!

I'm coming upon the end of my trip. This trip, at least, which I consider to be over when Buster (that's my car, for those of you wondering) and I return together to Cape May. And we'll be doing that this Monday.

The hills I where walk (and sometimes ride a horse!), literally across the road from my cabin

Basil loves licking the popcorn bowl

I've been back here in Chimayo, NM, for a couple months which have passed far too quickly. In that time I have acquired a farmer's tan and a companion rabbit I've named Basil. Josh and I had to rescue Basil from the rest of the rabbits when a bigger male rabbit bit a nice big hole in his back, so I brought him back to my cabin and he's been licking my toes ever since. He's the sweetest thing ever, but we'll see how he fares with a 4 day car driving spree.

I don't really know what to write. I get this terrible anxious feeling when change is imminent, when I'll be leaving meaningful people that I'm afraid I'll never see again. This particular change is bittersweet because I am looking forward to moving back home and farming for a while in Cape May. I'm excited to be closer to family, because they're really all that matters, but I've also made another patchwork family in the past year and a half and I'll be leaving some of them in two days.

Since I never plan my life more than 3-4 months in advance, I'm not sure what will come in the fall. I do know that this adventure has been amazing and wonderful, complete with kind strangers, beautiful mountains, strange animals, amazing camping trips, crazy farmer's market customers, cozy coffee shops, friends that have become family, rodeos, and aggressive New Mexican Brown Dogs chasing after me at every turn. I hope it's not the only adventure I have, but it wouldn't be so bad if it were. So thanks to everyone that has been here with (and for) me, whether physically, via skype, via blog, or via po box. Onto your own travels!

Washington, Oregon, California, Arizona

Well hello readers! That is, if there are any of you left after my five month break (at least there's Mom, HI MOM!)

I just finished up a breakfast burrito for dinner. I'll tell you the ingredients and you guess where in the country I am:
-The best tortillas ever made by humans (can't say for certain about aliens, dinosaurs, nor the Little Red Hen, I hear she's quite the baker), eggs (from this plot of land), onion, garlic (from this plot of land), kale, green chile (from this plot of land), green chile, green chile.
That's right, readers, I'm back in New Mexico! But first, I must catch you up.

JULY/AUGUST
The last I wrote was while in Montana. I worked on the farm in Livingston for two months (farming, walking in hills, camping, fly fishing-sort of, watching the rodeo and demolition derby, thrift shopping, learning about dandelion greens from a man convinced he'll sustain himself on them when food runs out, working farmer's markets, eating ice cream, blowing up fireworks, blowing up fireworks in marshmallows, blowing up fireworks in kiwifruits, eating popsicles, driving tractors and old trucks, light saber battling with a five year old, you get the picture). I then met Seth in Bozeman, MT, and we visited Yellowstone, of which I believe I added photographs already. Next, I drove over to Seattle, WA, where I stayed with the Pipers (our neighbor's daughter and her lovely family who treated me to an excellent birthday dinner/cupcakes!), I took a train down to Portland, OR, for a couple days to visit my friend Rachel (and make some new ones) in Corvallis, OR.

The next leg of my journey was from the middle of August to the beginning of September in Vaughn, WA, which is on the Key Peninsula, southwest of Seattle. I stayed on Gentle Giant Meadows Ranch with the Sikoras. They raise animals: sheep, goats, cows, chickens. They also have horses and we got to trail-ride a few times, which was awesome since I haven't ridden in quite a while. They had a green draft horse named Quest (for those non-horse people, green means young and untrained, and a draft horse? think Budweiser Clydesdales, the ones that play football) that I rode a bit, not nearly enough, but we made good progress considering he hadn't ever walked without being led by someone walking on the ground.

 This is me feeding Molly while she gets milked

This is me learning how to butcher mutton

This is a goat eating my underwear

Chopping down and moving trees

Moving more trees

 Riding Quest!

SEPTEMBER-NOVEMBER
After Washington, I drove down to San Francisco where I stayed with the Larkins. They tolerated me for an entire 2 1/2 months, and were kind enough to show me around, recommend sights, feed me, and be the most amazing people ever. Emily and Lindsay came to visit, and it was really great to spend time with everyone together. Toward the end of my stay, my friend Rochelle facilitated a volunteering/interning opportunity at a photography lab called Rayko Photo Center, which was a really great time.

Buster reacquainting with the ocean, hasn't seen it in a year

Visiting Ocean Beach with Tom and Gabrielle

I made Gabrielle reenact the scene from Vertigo. I was in Hitchcock heaven the entire time (if you didn't know, it was one of his favorite cities, so just walking around makes you feel like you're in his films)

The view from our (hehe) roof deck, Alcatraz and the bay in the distance

Big Sur hike

Lindsay in Big Sur

Lindsay and Emily collecting jade

Gabrielle, Tom, and I visited Yosemite, too!

Yosemite: Half Dome on the left (also saw it from 30,000 ft up in an airplane, so beautiful). See those two waterfalls on the right bottom corner? Those are the Vernal and Nevada falls, we hiked from the bottom of the lower to the top of the upper one (or I think it's reverse, because the higher one is actually the "lower" fall. oh who knows). Also, fun fact, those are the falls where the three hikers fell and died last summer (they finally recovered the last two bodies a month or so after we visited).

Sequoia at Yosemite

Rochelle at Fort Cronkhite

JANUARY
I was sad to leave San Francisco, but I decided to fly home for Thanksgiving through mid-January.  Upon returning, I stayed one night in San Francisco (where my rear window was smashed in, nothing stolen- I'm sure they were really disappointed with my lame stash of thrifted sweaters and dirty pants), and drove to San Diego. I stayed in San Diego (Point Loma, actually) with Jon, who I had worked with on the farm in Montana. He and his girlfriend and roommates were really cool and I wish I could have spent more time there. In the morning I visited Fort Rosecrans at Jon's suggestion. If you've never visited a California military fort, you really should, I would love to make a trip of visiting all of them sometime. They basically combine all of my favorite things, managing to preserve wild open land, old buildings (sometimes complete with historical furnishings), and serve as national historical landmarks with plenty of room for education!! Fort Cronkhite (above) in San Francisco is within the huge Marin headlands, across the bridge from the city where you can hike around and check out dizzying cliffs, old weapon fortresses, maybe mountain lions, and collect pretty rocks on the beach! It's heaven. Fort Rosecrans in Point Loma (below) has a fully preserved lighthouse complete with bedroom and kitchen sets and little stories about the keeper's family. PLUS an entire separate building just housing the educational information about the history of lighthouses! Did you know that the job of Lighthouse Keeper was the first non-clerical government job available to women?!?! It's my new past-fantasy to have been a Lighthouse Keeper in a previous life.

Fort Rosecrans Lighthouse

View from inside the lighthouse

Fort Rosecrans military graveyard. As if I couldn't love it anymore they throw in a graveyard! These Californian military historians really know me.

After visiting the fort and having an Acai bowl (oh my goodness, whatever it actually all is, it's the best breakfast treat ever), I drove on to Tempe, AZ to visit my friend Rachel. She's in graduate school at ASU, and we played, ate, drank, snuggled, and walked around for a few days before I left.

On our way to Tempe with Buster's broken window

Arizona landscapes are quite different from anywhere else I've been

Which leaves us here, in Chimayo again. It's great to be back, especially since there's a human baby-addition to the family since I was here last. I've also already gotten bit by a baby goat, pricked by cactus spines, smashed numerous fingers in numerous doors, learned how not to build a fire in a woodstove, and forewent showering for five days. If you made it to the end, bless your soul, I hope it's been worthwhile, thanks for reading!


** OH MY GOSH! I can't believe I forgot to thank Julia and Ted and Rose and Ann for keeping my car at their house for the time I went home. I am so glad I got to visit with them, meet both girls, and see all the Bethels upon returning!
And for that matter, I should probably just throw a huge Thank You out there to everyone who has housed, fed, met up with, hung out with, or showed me around. People have been more than generous on this whole trip, and it really wouldn't be possible without everyone's kindness.

Recently, in photographs

I visited Yellowstone with my friend Seth, who took a break from bicycling to join me.

Mammoth Hot Springs Terraces

We stayed on the third floor of a park ranger's house. These buildings were originally built for a military fort and have been appropriated for the park's use. It is a beautiful historical building, complete with a pull-chain toilet (yes of course I used it!) and four floors. This particular building is split in half between two families. I feel incredibly lucky to have been able to stay there (and not only because the campsites were all full) we all know how much I love history and old things. More info here on the area.


Seth at more hot springs, Norris Geyser Basin.

Of course these pictures are in reverse chronological order, so this is Elise and Eleonore overlooking Livingston at night sometime in the end of July.

Livingston sunset

My favorite truck at the farm, Ford F-600 manual transmission. Quite fun to drive.


Elise and my boy Zach at the Red Ants Pants Music Festival in White Sulfur Springs, MT. First off, if you're looking for work pants and you're a lady (of any shape and size), the Red Ants Pants company is AWESOME. It was started by a woman in Montana, who makes pants specifically shaped for women. They put on a music festival in some huge ranchers ranch, we parked in the recently-baled hay fields and made our way to the stage, in the middle of nothingness. The festival headliner was Lyle Lovett and His Large Band, and let's just say that I seriously enjoyed the night and they put on a great show (especially Francine Reed).

I apparently cannot upload any more pictures in one post, we'll see how I feel another day. I am currently in Vaughn, WA, working on a lovely family farm. I'm learning how to butcher all kinds of animals, as well as refining my tractor driving skills, my weed-wacking skills (awful, by the way), and getting on their 19 hand Shire horse (for those of you unfamiliar with horse measurements, a Shire is a bit bigger than a Budweiser Clydesdale), also went to the rodeo here and walked on water in a giant plastic bubble-ball best experience I've had in a while. Glad that Irene didn't wipe out the entire east coast! Keep safe and be well.

4th of Ju-ly

I suppose I'm much overdue for an update. I've been dreading writing, because I have had so much to write about and no idea how to organize it. Plus, general overviews are boring, the detailed stories are the fun ones to tell. I'll try to mix it all together.
My new address is:
c/o The Rehders
315 S 8th St
Livingston, MT 59047

I got to Livingston, Montana on around June 11th. Leaving Chimayo was hard, but I said my goodbyes 30 times and got plenty of farewell hugs. My mom came to visit and we drove from New Mexico to Colorado, stopping along the way wherever we fancied. I showed her the farm, and we checked out Santa Fe, Ojo Caliente Mineral Spa-aaah, Taos, (oh gosh I knew I should've written this down, I'll never keep all of this straight), The Great Sand Dunes and Salida CO, Vail, the Continental Divide (tons of snow!), and spent our last day in Denver watching the Hangover 2 and watching homeless people fight. I shouldn't have let that end on a bad note because it was an excellent trip, for more reasons than I can write here. I'm so glad that she came, and I think she enjoyed her first trip to the southwest.

After dropping my mom off, I stopped by Boulder for the morning (which turned into afternoon) visited BMoCA and saw the most recent exhibition in installation, met some friends, got lost in the ever-expanding Whole Foods, and left for Wyoming. I drove through half of Wyoming, almost got stuck with an empty tank of gas and no place to sleep (don't ever assume there will be human civilization within 100 miles of a non-interstate rd), and made it to Livingston the next day. The farm (and town) is about 30 miles east of Bozeman, and it used to be the official entrance to Yellowstone National Park.

Here I work for the Rehder family, Mark, Caroline, and their 5 year old Zach, and there are two other wwoofers. No animals, a ton of vegetables, and they even use a similar flood irrigation technique that I learned about in NM.
The town is awesome, it's tiny and adorable and has everything you could need (no chain stores!!). We sell vegetables at a couple farmer's markets (well, not yet, but when we're more ready for harvesting), the Bozeman co-op, the local Livingston hospital, a few restaurants in town, and they trade some for other things (like meat, eggs, and other goods).

One thing to know about Montana is they take their fireworks seriously. They're legal here, and for at least a week and a half leading up to the 4th of July, there were fireworks constantly going off (middle of the day and middle of the night). There was a three day rodeo in town that brings cowfolk from all over the country (Georgia, Florida, Texas, Oregon, etc), and a fireworks show after every evening, which we could see from the second floor of the barn. I was hoping to make a guest appearance on one of their bronc's but entries apparently were all full. I went to the last night of the rodeo with the other wwoofers, and after discovering firsthand that they take identity theft VERY seriously, we had a nice evening watching from the bleachers and praying that the lightning going off wouldn't strike us. We celebrated during the day by cooling off in the acequia (water ditch, it's a tributary of the Yellowstone River) and drinking PBR's on the roof of an old bus-converted-into-bedroom.

Bought my first fireworks the day after that (we were hoping they'd be on sale. they weren't). We blew up a kiwifruit, unsuccessfully tried a marshmallow (just toasted the inside), and shot a bottle rocket which curved and bee-lined it for a patch of trees and the neighbor's house. No lost eyes, no serious burns.

Other than that, there's been a ton going on, but I've been too busy reading, knitting, making a journal, and watching previous seasons of Bones on netflix to write things here. Thanks for reading!

My Life Is A Zoo

Fred with Fangs

I’m not sure how exactly to start this post, so I suppose posing a question might be the easiest way:

Have you ever been about to step in the shower (naked, as one tends to be who is about to get in the shower), when a goat walked into your bathroom?

This situation occurred tonight in my very own bathroom, about an hour ago. I live in a cabin with one roommate, Renee, and our yard houses Francisco the adorable (yet irritatingly poorly behaved at moments) puppy, and Frederick the broken-legged-teenage-goat. They aren’t usually allowed in the house, but Fred has a serious affinity for dog food and will bully Francisco for his food, so we bring Fred inside when we feed Francisco (alliteration!). Tonight I went to take a shower and Renee tried to distract Fred with grapes (he prefers them bitten in half) and by singing “All around the mulberry bush” while circling a table meant to keep him out of our bedroom. I typically shower with the door open because I don’t want another mold problem (when I first moved in I found what looked like pasta shells spilled behind the toilet and yelled to Anne and Josh (the other wwoofers here), “HEY, DID YOU GUYS SPILL PASTA WHILE ON THE TOILET?” Turns out they were fungus). So there I am, standing outside my shower, when Fred runs in, somehow escaping the game of “Mulberry Bush”, to say hello.

I will go on. We just acquired a hummingbird feeder, and immediately there were four regular visitors. They feed while we sit on the porch, while we watch from the kitchen table, while we stand directly beneath the feeder, while we're chasing the dog that's chasing the goat, they’re just constantly buzzing about, all over the area. It’s pretty magical, though I’m becoming a bit desensitized because every time I look out, there is at least one flying about. We keep getting nearly dive-bombed because they’re so aggressive towards one another and territorial about the feeder. This afternoon l looked out and there were three sitting on the feeder together. I don’t know if they were in some sort of poly-amorous relationship or just too tired to chase one another, but it was pretty cool. A little later I was heating up a tortilla and I look out the window to see Francisco tearing up and eating Renee’s bag of tobacco (excellent for dog-digestion. Just kidding, he didn't eat the tobacco, just the bag) I ran outside, grabbed all of the pieces, and by the time I got back inside with everything, my tortilla was burning and the house was filled with smoke.

Yesterday it snowed all day. We went on a hike, made soup (okay Renee made soup), tromped around in the mud doing chores. There’s a cholo wandering around trying to break into everyone’s houses (successfully a few times, apparently: Someone Stole Tom Holland's Shotgun- said in cowboy speak and you've got yourself a movie title), so Renee and I hide our computers in paper bags in a cabinet under the oven. There are paper cranes, paper boats, and paper throwing stars all over because Elias the nine-year-old little brother wanted to have boat races and Renee makes cranes. On Easter weekend, we had boat races in the pond and mine was winning (I know about currents, even in a still pond) until Elias started throwing mud clots at it, and then we declared blitzkrieg on everyone’s boats, sunk them, and recovered them the next day, dazed and washed ashore.

I just realized that I never wrote about the pilgrimage to the Santuario de Chimayo on Good Friday, along with the estimated 30,000 other people. That might need to be another time, this post is long and my shoulder hurts from being in a weird position to reach my computer, because I only pick up internet from one awkwardly angled corner of the kitchen table, smack up against the window. And only if Fred jumps up on the windowsill (which he did this morning).

Renee feeding Fred some grapes in the backyard

One of my hummingbirds in the snow

Boat Race: Renee, Adan winding up with mud, Elias returning from another attempt to sink me

visual updates

A view of some of the buildings on the property, from the Chile Field

My new band-picture with Froadrick. Fist bump.

Fred (with broken leg) and Francisco the cutest puppy ever.

Life in Chimayo!

Hello! An update for the curious!
On Tuesday morning, March 29, I departed Boulder, my home of over 4 months, after a filling short stack (okay short is an exaggeration, they were huge) of pancakes from the Village Coffee Shop courtesy of my p-diddy Seth (who also sent me on my way with a magnificent bag of Whole Foods goodies that I will be stretching through as long as possible). Chimayo is in Northern central New Mexico, between Taos and Santa Fe (about 35 miles north of Santa Fe). I took 25 down south to the High Road to Taos, on south to Chimayo.

I am working at El Rincon Farm with the Trujillo family. This farm has been in their family for hundreds of years, but only recently have they reacquired and begun organic farming some of what they own (about 3 of 20-some acres). Their most special product is the Chimayo Chile, a green chile that's one of the best ever. Literally. I'm not much of a spicy person (low tolerance), but these peppers are grand. They use heirloom seeds that go back to when the Spanish conquistadors came up from Mexico, that haven't been cross-breeded, and produce a medium, to medium-hot chile. Such good flavor, I eat it on everything. So they harvest them, roast them, and freeze them in 1lb bags to sell at the Santa Fe Farmer's Market (we went today-which is why I know the spiel). And yes, they ship them.

So anyway, the Trujillos are wonderful, and then there's Mario and his wife and kids and brother-in-law Ramon who are wonderful and are from Mexico so I've been practicing my Spanish (it's a shame I cheated so much in high school--why didn't they tell me that someday I'd be working on a farm with two Mexicans with little knowledge of English??) Kids, eat your green chiles and practice your foreign languages, it's practical, really.

A little about Chimayo, it's a really interesting area. There are a good amount of neighbors, and we're on a dirt road off one of the main roads in the valley. The roads are all one-way, dirt roads, named in Spanish. There are tons of Chihuahuas (don't ask me why, but one was tragically run-over yesterday), Magpies, random dogs without collars (including our own, Whiskey) and old broken down cars in peoples yards. My phone's always dead or out of service (or broken because I dropped it on the floor), only adding to the feeling of being completely lost in Mexico. Two days ago I went out phoneless-dead as usual-to look for an alleged grocery store, only to get lost, find some sort of expanded liquor store where everyone was speaking Spanish and I looked like some weird, sort-of-sunburned white girl that's completely out of place with her own bag trying to buy produce instead of cigarettes. Everyone's really nice, though, and I haven't really gotten weird looks, and everyone waves back when I do that "hey" nod-and-wave. I don't know, I learned it in West Virginia (certainly not in New Jersey). But sometimes I find myself wandering around, wondering how I ended up in another country without my passport. New Mexico is certainly a new experience for me, and I'm loving every minute. Especially riding the two-year-old paint mare they've got, albeit in a western saddle. Always something new. Helmets and appropriate gear are for the birds.

So while it was sad to say goodbye to everyone in Boulder (roommates-thank you SO MUCH Marina, Remah, and Seth, BMoCA-mates, and friends picked up along the way-it's been splendid, and let me repay you in seafood and snuggles), I'm happy to say I'm happy, and really looking forward to my time here. The landscape is so excellent, I'll be excited to start shooting and drawing and brainstorming artistic ways to incorporate it.

My address:
c/o Marisela Trujillo
PO Box 1026
Chimayo NM 87522

Adios!

ART!

Sometimes art is too much for me to stand. Last night I was able to go to a preview and opening at the Denver Art Museum last night with a few people from BMoCA. First off, the new exhibition is awesome, it's all electronic and time-based media which excited me because my friend Liz organized a time-based media art show in Charleston, SC, which is currently happening called Receiver Fest. So you should check both of those things out.

I found myself wandering alone through DAM, long after my colleagues had left, walking up to the third and fourth floors where the permanent collections are (alone, mind you) which just happened to include works from so many artists that I'm familiar with (Louise Bourgeois! Arshile Gorky! Barbara Kruger! William Kentridge!) as well as other amazing pieces that I wasn't familiar with.

I'm a big fan of evening events at museums because:

1. Drinks! And free ones if you have a VIP bracelet like I did last night (no, I'm not an important person, just a pretend one)

2. Art! In quiet places where people haven't thought to gather! A museum is so much more quiet and peaceful when it's at night with a huge crowd of people on the main floor. Maybe it just seems more quiet because you have loud noise to compare it to, but I'm convinced something magical happens in galleries in the night. I've experienced it in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, BMoCA, and now the DAM as well.

3. People! There are tons of people to talk to or not to talk to! The possibilities are endless.

Anyway, it might have been the wine, but I had a really good time and didn't even stress out about my lack-of-transportation home. I wandered around Denver, asked people, found the bus station and exchanged my ten dollar bill for ten one-dollar coins.

photographs!

For all ya'll itchin' to see my photographs thus far in Boulder (I admit, I've been pretty bad at getting them uploaded), check out my flickr page, I just added a bunch (no, not brunch!).

http://www.flickr.com/photos/wesleylaudeman/

hope you enjoy, and hope I add more at some point.

have a wonderful day

Balancing between Perfection and Peeta Binnochi

I've been working pretty regularly at the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art, every weekday (and some weekend days as well) organizing, researching ad rates, updating online calendars, typing up documents, making labels, getting signatures for a petition, aaall kinds of stuff. The museum is currently closed, in between exhibitions. The next show is two different installation sculptors that I'm REALLY excited about. Jessica Moon Bernstein is a local artist, really a nice woman who makes sculptures with recycled bicycle tires/tubes. Henrique Oliveira is an AMAZING Brazilian artist who makes these fascinating undulating wood installation sculptures.

So the preparations that go into the next show are both office related and physical-space related. For the past two days, I've been focused on the "physical-space" aspect, i.e. painting white walls white. In the gallery/museum world, walls are never white enough. You must coat and re-coat until your eyeballs fall out from staring at nothing but white walls (is that a shadow or a line is that a shadow or a line is that...) and your brain explodes from the fumes. I jest. The idea is to fill in holes, sand them, paint over places that got scuffed up or otherwise drawn on. Also, in our case, to paint the walls again because they were painted black for the last exhibition, and the first few coats of white peeled and cracked immediately. I had a lot of moments where I had to pause and consider the Peeta Binnochi effect.

For those of you scratching your head at this reference (and also title of this post--specifically Peeta Binnochi, although the word "perfect" in anything related to me is questionable as well) I'm going to have to take you on a trip to the College of Charleston Studio Art Department. Barbara is the printmaking professor, an incredible woman, short with a huge personality. She hails from Brooklyn, so she's got a bit of an accent, loves to do the NY Times crossword during class while we're scraping and sketching (yes, we're allowed to give answers). She's very honest about your art and has a standing rule that if you're late to class, you bring snacks the next class. She also tends to go off on tangents and tell stories in the middle of demonstrations. One day, while showing us woodcuts and giving us tips about the delicate nature of woodcutting, she came out with one of my favorite stories.
Apparently, back in Brooklyn as a child, Barbara was in her bedroom after school and looked out her window and to see her neighbor, Peter Binnochi, painting his garage door. One of the pitfalls of living near creative-minded children is that a single inane day in your life could live on in infamy. So anyway, good ol' Peeta (remember, when she pronounces "Peter", it's with an accent) was painting his garage door in square panels with a couple different colors. He must have gone out of the lines, though, and was attempting to correct this minor, nearly imperceptible mistake. He proceeded to make a huge mess, way worse than the original mistake, and ended up painting the whole garage door a single color after hours of struggling.

Barbara was quite fond of using Peter as an adage, in life and in art, and it's something that's stuck with me. I catch myself saying, "No, no, don't Peeta Binnochi this" and receiving really strange looks (may be also because I talk out loud to myself, but I digress). This doesn't happen to me too often, not because I'm perfect and never make mistakes, but because I'm not a perfectionist and usually "quit while I'm ahead" rather than nitpick (okay, I'm lazy). Anyway, I invite you, my readers, to use this adage for yourselves. If you find yourself painting white walls white and wondering whether you should climb up there and grab that little spot, remember Peeta Binnochi. Just leave it.

a few of my favorite things

I was about to title this post "Museum, Library, Food" and I realized that they are, indeed, a few of my favorite things, so I wrote that instead and now the song is stuck in my head. The dog (from Denver) above doesn't really have anything to do with anything, I just remembered I hadn't put it online anywhere yet.

Museum
So I kept pestering the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art (BMoCA-sounds like a cool drink) until they called back and told me to come in. I've been going in weekdays from 10-5ish (give or take an hour, depending on what I'm doing) and helping to organize things, hand out cards for their exhibitions, host at-risk-of-dropping-out high school students, and make phone calls to other venues to see how our private party rental fees measure up. The last project is the most challenging, because I hate talking on the telephone to begin with, and in this case I had to pretend to be a mature adult and ask all the right questions (to get specific prices on EVERYTHING you can think of in terms of a 100-150 person private party with catering, sound, dancing, etc). I had to make a "presentation" for the boss with all of the information compiled, so he can see how BMoCA's rental prices look in comparison to the other Boulder venues.

Since I'm not actually planning a party, I have to redirect questions like, "Well, what type of party is this?" and since I sound so sketchy and nonspecific, one woman said to me:
-You know, we're okay with all types of parties. I know a lot of people don't want to mention if it's a sorority party. We're okay with everything; same-sex weddings, birthday parties, greek life. We don't have any neighbors to complain about noise.
-Um, that's great. Yeah, it's just, you know, a party.

So anyway, I finished that today and it felt gooood. The women I work with are all really nice and sweet and welcoming. It's pretty cool to see how much work goes into a small museum, and it's kind of fun to pretend to have a job and learn to talk on the phone.

Library
I have spent a lot of time at the Boulder public library, which makes me want to write about how amazing libraries are. FREE BOOKS! For real! It's crazy, nothing's ever free anymore, and libraries have such an incredible collection of books from all over (times, places, thought spaces). I have read so many great books, mostly from the library, but also from the used bookstore here (oh my, don't even get me started on that place!). I've read Haruki Murakami (Kafka on the Shore, Sputnik Sweetheart), Margaret Atwood (Handmaid's Tale, Oryx and Crake, currently The Year of the Flood), Virginia Woolf (currently To The Lighthouse). I can't remember what else I've read since I've been here, but I've been reading like a crazy person and I love it!

Go to your library!

FOOD
The last section of this post and most important. 1. I LOVE FOOD. 2. This could get a little gross, so a warning to small children and people that don't want to hear about my body (although that's an inevitable risk in reading any of my posts). Seth and I started a cleanse this past week. It's called "The Master Cleanse" and you have to say it in a big evil-man voice every time you talk about it. This cleanse consists of, basically, fasting for 10 days. The only things you "eat" (for lack of a better word) are drinks made of freshly squeezed lemon juice (2 tbsp), grade B maple syrup (2 tbsp), and some cayenne pepper, mixed with 8oz of water. You pretty much drink as many as you want throughout the day, plus plenty of water. At night I drink an herbal laxative tea (eeeww poo) and get this, it's called "Smooth Moves" hahahah oh boy. In the morning I do an "internal salt water bath", which means that I drink a quart of salt water and that reaaaally clears things out. I told you to stop reading, so don't get all bent out of shape because I'm talking about poop (again.. I'm pretty sure this is at least the 3rd post to mention it). Anyway, I am finishing up the 5th day! Yes folks, I haven't eaten food in 5 whole days. It's a miracle, especially considering my irrational obsession with food. I wouldn't be able to do it alone, it's really nice to have someone with whom to commiserate. Especially when, like today, I had to walk around to all of the restaurants downtown to get signatures for a petition. Torture, absolute torture.

The things I've learned recently about myself, specifically from this "job" and my cleanse are that I need to be challenged by someone else in order to do my best work. I tend to let things slide by, do things halfway, and don't really stay on top of completing projects unless I have someone to whom I must answer (i.e. lazy). This is definitely not a new development, because all throughout school, I've been able to get by without reaaally trying (with the exception of some art classes and film classes in college that really made me stop and think). If I'm doing something just for me, I tend to be satisfied with a mediocre job, but if I'm doing something with or for someone else (i.e. a boss or a friend who is holding me accountable) I tend to be more aggressive with completion. For whatever that's worth.
This was long.

blogging from unemployment-dom

It's been quite a while since my last entry, and I hope everyone had a great holiday season (all of 'em). I went home, enjoyed the life of leisure and a break from my, well, break. And now I'm back in Boulder, where it's currently 55 and sunny and I'm bored.

This past Thursday I had a job interview at a consignment store. I thought it went well, although it was my first, yes first, interview ever. For anything. My body had an interesting reaction where my right eye started twitching slightly and my brain went blank for moments at a time. I thought I kept it cool and the managers seemed to like me and they said they'd get back to me this weekend. As in, the one that just passed. So while waiting for their callback, I promptly went out, had a few beers and left my phone under the table of a really stinky, divey bar for good measure. I let it get all stomped upon for a few hours and returned the next morning to pick it up (luckily it hadn't gone home with anyone, apparently Envy's aren't as hot as I thought).

It's not broken and I haven't gotten a call. I've drowned my disappointment with two matinees at the nearby movie theater- yesterday I saw The King's Speech (excellent) and today I watched The Fighter. I'm a big fan of half priced movies, and so today I bought a soda in celebration (of filling out an application to the movie theater) and it was $4.50 for the smallest size. Four and a half dollars. I almost pooped myself. The movie was only $6.25, and if I hadn't already poured the soda I would've saved it and watched another.

The good news is that I filled out a volunteer application for the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art, basically pleading with them to let me do anything, at any time, for any amount of time, for free. It's been a week, I'll let you know.

Anyway, I can't imagine anyone actually wanting to read this thrilling update, but I had to get back into writing at some time.

In other news, this seems like the worst idea ever.

end of november!

I recently heard an outcry about my lack of updates! Coincidentally, I was thinking today about a new post, it was brewin' in my head all day.

I still have no job. I still find it difficult to locate volunteer opportunities. Seth's changing oil and working in an auto repair shop caddy corner from our (hah, a liberal use of the word) apartment. The old roommate moved out, a new one moved in and she's just sweet as honey and doesn't mind our sleeping on her couch. Which is great news because it's starting to get cold at night and I haven't yet figured out the warmest spot to sleep outside.

Thanksgiving was tasty! During the day, Seth and I drove out north of here where there are dirt roads and stretching plains of nothingness so that he could practice driving a manual transmission. We actually ran over a prairie dog, but it somehow didn't get squashed, and Seth didn't stall! We came back, ate a pre-cooked rotisserie chicken and pumpkin pie from Whole Foods, and I made my mother's famous corn pudding and my favorite butternut squash recipe (cinnamon, maple syrup, cayenne, paprika, mmmm) along with a couple other sides and crescent rolls (of course). We shared a double bottle of wine and watched Let the Right One In, a Swedish vampire film (really good).

If I'm not vacuuming/sweeping/washing dishes here at the apartment, I'm doing it elsewhere. I've been going over to the LGBT house to volunteer at least once a week and until today all I was doing was cleaning.

Today was different. I got to enter info onto a spreadsheet, which was surprisingly fun (it was college students reacting to a lecture by a transgendered woman and a gay man--cool stuff). I also got to climb up into the attic to find Christmas decorations. The ladder that dropped from the ceiling couldn't quite reach the floor because there was a desk in the way. So I was sent to do this task by adults that don't really know me, and they went off to do their thing. My first attempt to scale the ladder was met with the crack of glass. I panic. I look down and see that on the desk (the one in the way of the ladder) there was a framed newspaper article, in glass. The glass was cracked, and cracking more by the second! I lift the ladder a little and see that the damage is done. I've broken an 11x14 sheet of glass in a nonprofit's office. The 5 year old (okay, 14 year old) inside of me screams,

HIDE IT.

I look around the room, there's nowhere to put it.

THROW IT IN THE TRASH, QUICK.

I take a deep breath. I am an adult. I shouldn't be ashamed, it was an accident. I don't need to scramble around, this is totally legitimate. After all, the lady in charge told me to give the ladder a try. She approaches. I explain the situation, like a calm, apologetic adult-volunteer, and she lets me know it's okay and asks if I got hurt.

Lesson: don't always listen to the child inside of you, even though they sometimes have a really cool view of the world.

And that's about it for now, have a glorious day and thanks for reading again!

address.

okay. I think I've got it sorted out:

Wesley Laudeman
c/o Marina Fleming
2437 Spruce St. APT 4
Boulder, CO 80302

I was sitting around the house yesterday and I peeked out of the window at one point and felt like Boo Radley because I made eye contact with the mailman but quickly hid back behind the wall. don't know why, but I always do that. anyway, he came knocking on the door with my netflix and told me to put our names on the mailbox, but since I'm uncomfortable doing that (uh, not paying rent? there are 4 apartments in this building and I don't want to start trouble), I'll just make people put "care of".

it's supposed to snow today and get down to 0 tonight! bought a few things to make thanksgiving food, but we don't really have definite plans yet..

Happy Thanksgiving to all, from the frontier!

greetings from boulder!

somehow the days just slip by, and my intentions of updating my blog go flying out the window (or down the drain?). anyway, I'm sitting here in Boulder Colorado, trying to write something real quick before getting a nice cold beer (it's been almost two days). the picture above is my "Mezuzah"(thanks Emily and Rachel), which is this Jewish thing you put in your doorway and kiss on your way in and out. so I kiss this mamacat/babycat (or try to remember) when I get in and out of my car. this is when we're getting into Colorado and the sun is setting and it's starting to snow. it's holding a rooster feather I stole from Boone (noo I didn't kill the rooster...)

I guess I should tell of my journey to get here, but I don't have too much time right now, and I want to get to the current stuff. I stopped in Louisville, KY and stayed with Susan, a rollerderby player who took me to this aweeesome hotel/restaurant/art gallery all in one. I have so much to say about that, but perhaps that's for another time. The next night I stayed with Rachel and Jared in Kansas City, MO, who were wonderful and sweet and had a dog who shyly hated me, but I got to eat Indian and drink some local beers on my own (in West Port? a sort of city outside of Kansas City), which was tasty and fun. slept on a very comfy couch and was awoken at 6am by a radiator spewing water straight into the ceiling, before enjoying cereal and local milk.

Seth and I are staying with Marina, a lovely lady who graduated with me (though I never met her) from CofC this past May. She's living out here doing AmeriCorp and is nice enough to let us sleep on her couch/futon. We spend most of our days wandering around, asking businesses about job openings, perusing Craigslist (for both jobs and housing), attempting to socialize at coffee shops, and making meals. Seth is currently on the floor, maps spread out, trying to trace his route thus far (for those of you who've missed his story, he's bicycling across the country, working on organic farms, meeting tons of people, staying with strangers/camping in their yards/accepting warm showers and food from the multitudes of lovely people in the world. his blog will be updated, as soon as I finish updating mine and start bugging him to update it).

Last night, while at a coffee shop, we decided to make a list of priorities. Like, for instance, finding Seth some pants (he has one pair), finding jobs, finding an apartment, sending postcards, getting a library card, updating our blogs. Most importantly, though, we've decided to try to converse with at least one stranger a day (both of us). So today we split up in the afternoon, and Seth handed in some job applications and tried to befriend a Patagonia employee, and I went to volunteer at the local LGBT group. I met some really cool and nice people, and was immediately put to work. I figure since I've got some money, I won't really rush into a job at Marshalls or Office Depot or anything, though they're hiring (heeeyo). maybe I'll check that seafood restaurant to see if they have oysters that need shucking (eeeh don't know about "fresh" oysters in the middle of the country).

Since it's dark by 5, I'm usually ready for bed pretty early, but we're enjoying playing bananagrams and all varieties of card games late into the night.
and if you want to write to me, the address here is:
2437 Spruce St. APT 4
Boulder, CO 80302

oh! and for those of you interested in my artistic processes, I've started a new digital photo project in which I will be photographing public restrooms across the country. I started in Kentucky and did public rest areas along the road. I really found them kind of beautiful and interesting, and the light's always good inside, and there is always something weird to be captured. I think it'll be a sort of lifelong project, or at least until I get tired of sneaking around ladies rooms all sketchy-like with a camera. I'll admit, it's sort of fun to almost get caught, or to figure out how to make an exposure without anyone hearing. so here's a preview...
"Arriba, CO, 3:12PM"




until next time! and thanks for bearing with me for my strange habits!

moving along

okay, working on a short post before I leave Boone. I plan to leave tomorrow morning after a tearful goodbye to my llamas, chickens, dogs cats fish goats people. definitely the people. Diane and Rob have been wonderful, so trusting and generous and sweet, and I've met a bunch of other really sweet, genuinely nice people (Emilie at the Todd supplies store, Ashley and April, Samantha and Shamba, Steve the next door neighbor, the guy that works at BeansTalk coffee shop, so many more random people).

I think I'm taking 81N, to 77, to 64 with my first stop in Louisville, KY. then I'll continue on 70 and stop again around Kansas City, MO the second night, and onto Boulder the next day!

my last couple of weeks have been interesting, I've been alone at the farm watching everything while Diane and Rob were down in Florida getting some business done. I got stressed out a few times, angry a couple, was filled with wonder all the time, and only cried twice.

I kept all of the llamas and livestock alive, the dogs are well, cats fine. My chickies, which turned out to be a huge part of my everyday life, are okay. I brought them into the barn last week because it turned really cold and even snowed for a couple of days (didn't stick, just light, fluffy flurries and sunlight!), so the first night they were locked in a stall and two of them disappeared. I imagine they were taken by a rat or snake, because I couldn't find them anywhere the next morning (cry number one). so I took to locking them up at night in a cat crate, up off the ground, in a stall with the llamas (they're supposed to be 'guardians' for all different animals, they're protective), which has worked so far. I lock them in a cat crate at around 6 when it gets dark, and get up early in the morning to let them out again (The Chickens Are, indeed, Restless--The Far Side, anyone?). so that's fun. for the past two days I've been letting them roam around with the mama hen, free to eat bugs and worms (they were really getting antsy inside the barn, and it's been so warm out!) and I've been successful with that. until this afternoon, when I approach them, notice that one's missing, walk around the barn and find it drowned in one of the llama's water buckets (cry number two). why the hell wouldn't anyone have gotten it out? the mother hen could have easily jumped in there to get it out, it's not more deep than she is tall. I was so mad, but I buried the little one, said a few words, and cried some more.

my angry times were mostly in the middle of the night when either Indy (the needy maltese loveable poo-head) or Miss Lucy (the geriatric calico cat) tried to get into bed with me. uh, no, Indy, I don't want your dried-egg-yolk-face all up in my space. and no, Miss Lucy, I don't want you to sleep on my head. and if I shut the door (which I hesitate to do because I already sleep like a rock and don't hear anything), they scratch/bark/yowl incessantly. seriously, I tried ignoring them but it actually doesn't work. serious dedication there.

I was filled with wonder on a daily basis, either when I woke up to look out of my gigantic bedside window with an incredible view between two mountains of the sun rising, moon rising, full sky of stars, etc. at the beginning of my stay it was a full moon and it lit up my entire bedroom and the entire farm, I could see the llamas from about 50-60 feet away in the middle of the night!
A girl that Diane works with (prarie home companion friend), Ashley, took me for a drive on the blue ridge parkway for a bit the other day, which was very enjoyable despite the fact that within the first 15 minutes I had her pull over so I could barf up my egg breakfast (I'm blaming it on the eggs, not the driving, and yeh, I barfed. it's been literally years since I threw up, I can't even remember when). luckily she's in the medical career world, so she didn't hate me (in fact, she was incredibly nice, even post-barf!). we walked around Price Lake looking for otters, didn't find any, but it did start to snow really lightly as we were sitting on a dock looking at the gray steely calm lake (quite romantic, actually). I'm not really used to vast bodies of water being so still (what? a lake? not an ocean?).

went for a couple other drives with Shamba, we also went to First Friday art walk in downtown boone last week, which was wonderful. there's a really great gallery called the Turchin Center for the Visual Arts that had a few really really cool collections. drank a bunch of beer, hot apple cider, and had some tasty snacks as well. Sam and Shamba have been so wonderful, they even brought over some movies to watch the other night (uh Repo Man? awful).

so this isn't quite as quick as I'd imagined, but then again, it's been quite a while and I've been doing so many things! my days pass so quickly, perhaps because by the time dark rolls around, I lock myself in the house and consider it bedtime.

the abbreviated plan for Boulder is this: Seth should be arriving there around Friday (by bicycle, if anyone's missed this reference, check his awesome blog). I'll be getting in around Saturday. we don't really know where we're going to stay immediately, but he has some contacts around there that might have us for the first week-ish. we'll look for jobs, we're not planning on doing farming since it's colorado in the winter, but we're thinking maybe Ski Resort, maybe food&bev (egh), maybe awesome art space/coffee shop (hah!). whatever we can find. long term living? weeelll not so sure about that yet.. but I should be there for a while (probably trapped by snow, Buster's not really the 4-wheelin' type)


my maps are laid out, my outreach texts are sent, and I'm all packed up. if you know anyone in Kansas City or Boulder that need a couch warmer, let me know! if you know of any job opportunities in the Boulder area, let me know! if you know of any place I just HAVE to see, let me know!! thanks for reading, see you later

I'm a grannie!

yes yes, all you've heard is true, reports just in, I'm a grand-chicken! or maybe a mid-chickenwife, or hen-doula (hula!). I'm terrible at making puns.
Anyway, the hen that's been sitting finally hatched out her babies yesterday and today! Yesterday, both Rob and Diane were at work all day and I discovered there was a baby that had popped out of the nest (and when I say discovered, I mean that I heard a gigantic ruckus going on over by the chick and the hen). I freaked out, not knowing what to do, and helped the little thing back up. I discovered there was another sitting under the hen (who was still distrustful of me at this point and scolded me for helping). Later in the day I found there were at least 5 that I could see, sticking their adorable little heads out from under her wings. soo cute. Today I counted 9 and I moved them all (by myself, yes, Diane was sick all day) to a little hutch outside and hooked them up with hay, water, and some food-processed corn (yes, I used the food-processor to chop some already-cracked-corn so their little beaks could handle it). I took some pictures I'll add to my flickr page later. precious.

Since I'm on the topic and since they take up so much of my time, I'd like to talk a little more about chickens. I've been compiling thoughts and things I've learned about chickens since I got here. So there's that previous little story about hatching chicks. Then there are the roosters, with whom I have this sort of (totally) vengeful relationship. They're really cocky (pun intended), loud, and aggressive. They chase the hens around, grab their back/head feathers with their beaks and roughly mount them. I always chase them away when I see them starting to harass a hen, and sometimes even when they've mounted. Don't tell Diane, it's probably not the best thing to do for the propagation of the species, but it's really hard for me to stand by and watch the non-consenting, well, rape of any species. And yes, I would call it rape, because it is abundantly evident from their awful squawking that the hens do not consent. Chickens do not seem to court, like other birds and animals. The roosters here, of which there are too many (it's no-kill and Diane has a hard time unloading roosters to places she knows will not kill them, thus, overpopulation of roosters) can stroll over to whomever and force themselves upon her. When I first got here, I watched in horror as 2 or 3 roosters ganged up and chased a hen around together. It made me wonder about the animalistic urge/justification of gang rape, and rape in general.

Yes, this is the first of my Feminism and Farming series of thoughts. I wonder if rape/gang rape something that other species do, or is it solely the action of sick and twisted humans? If human men were put on an island with one woman and no socialization or learned culture, would they violently take turns with her just because they outnumber her? If there were more than one "Adam" back in the (questionable) day, would they have shared the one "Eve"?

I should mention, however, that occasionally hens will aggressively chase other hens, or hens will gang up and chase a rooster, or a female llama will mount another (apparently unwilling) female llama. Is there a difference in gender perceptions among nonhuman animals? Is everything just learned by watching and experiencing things (ie roosters learning aggression, llamas learning to mount)? Is there a common animalistic craving in all humans and animals alike? Are we driven only by the need to procreate? To protect our space? To fulfill sexual pleasure/urges? To eat? To be the most powerful? When animals (humans included) become violent, what are we fighting for? Shelter, food, oxygen, procreation, basic biological needs? I just don't know, and these are thoughts to which I will definitely return.

On a much more lighthearted chicken note, I shall discuss "The Bacaw Phenomenon". You know when you're doing chicken noises, you'll bawk bawk bawk and occasionally let out a hearty, Bacaw! when you're feeling frisky? Well, most of the time, the hens around here make your typical bawk noises, while they're eating, roosting, etc. The Bacaw is reserved for an alarm noise, for use while being raped, or, as I've encountered, when you catch them doing something surreptitious. When a hen is sneaking around, she knows it. She knows that the feed room isn't really where she's supposed to be, so if you catch her poking around in there, she will let out a series of loud Bacaw's to let everyone know that you are doing something wrong. Somehow the Bacaw turns the blame from her, sneaking into the feed room looking for scattered chicken scratch (yes, it's actually called that), to you: Human, endangering livelihood! You turn around and the hens and roosters are all eyeing you up. You. That Evil Human trying to hurt the innocent little brown hen. They cluck, disapprovingly, in unison.

mew

a quick little update before I get working today... a girl that Diane works with at the Health Clinic invited me to some sort of screening of NPR's Prairie Home Companion in Bristol (not Palin), TN tonight. I have never heard the show, but like I said before, I don't turn down invitations, so let's hope my plan doesn't backfire quite yet. we're supposed to get dinner and a drink before, so it can't be too bad!

oh and cute story of the day, last night Diane came into my room with her adorable little sweater on and her hands cupped together, exclaiming, "hot hot hot! I have something for you!", I tentatively look up, expecting a salamander or perhaps a dog poo, and she hands me three little reeses cups! how did she know they're my favorite?!

also, this morning I was pondering over tea how much longer I should stay here, wondering if I should head to Charleston real quick for a visit before heading out to Colorado. no sooner had this plan begun brewing in my little brain before Diane asked me if I could house/farm sit from Oct 30th to around Nov 8th... looks like I'll be here for a couple more weeks!

booooone

okay, I had all of these high hopes and clever things written in my head for this next post. but then my internet wasn't really working, and an extra day passed and now I have so many things to write about, I'm not sure I can be clever. but I'll try.. for you, my readers. I seem to be most clever when I'm doing physical labor. I try to remember what I had thought up (which was sooo hilarious as I shoveled composted llama poo), but sitting here, it's sort of hard to remember.

The only place I get reception from this crappy-waste-of-money USB mobile internet stick is sitting out on the front lawn of the farm, which happens to be a fairly steep hill, which wouldn't really bother me but I'm trying to simultaneously sip on this tasty wine while I catch up on two days of lost internet time (there are SO many tweets to read.. geeze) and hills do not embrace wine glasses, apparently. noted.

so, where to start. Asheville was incredible, I will surely make my way back there again in the future. I went to the art museum, a few tasty restaurants, as well as every coffee shop and bar available. I spent most of my time/money in coffee shops and bars, pretty much trying to meet interesting people while doing research on wwoof farms in nearby states. there are some awfully cool coffee shops and I'm sure they got sick of seeing me after a while. I eventually heard back from one farm, The Farm at Mollies Branch in Boone, NC.

It's really just a small family farm run by Diane Price and Rob Griffith. They are a lovely couple, Rob is a doctor so I don't get to see him much (but he was a history major before and has TONS of interesting-looking books..if I may judge a book by its cover), but Diane is around most of the time and is super sweet and wonderful. I've been helping out transplanting plants, mulching and spreading compost, attempting to groom the llamas (okay, she didn't ask me to, and they don't really like being groomed..but I'll change that), finding chicken eggs (Diane recently changed up their living situation and they're mad about this, so they hide their eggs ala easter bunny--they're even wonderfully strange colors: off blue, brownish, aahh I could go on for hours about color). ANYway. remind me to get back to the topic of Feminism and Farming. I think I'll write a series of posts on that someday, but I'm still doing my research though so that's for a later date.

let me go into detail about the serious beauty around here. in the past two weeks I drove through West Virginia, into Asheville, and then to here, Boone. it was peak season for colors when I started, and even when I got to Boone the colors were seriously radiant. I've never seen half of the colors I saw while driving here. but after a couple of windy days here, most of the leaves have fallen and the mountain sides no longer hold their bright colors. it's crazy! two days ago I had to catch my breath every time I looked out at a mountain, and now it's beautiful (don't get me wrong, it is nice still), but much more dull.

my first working day I met Shamba (pronounced Shahm-bay), Samantha, and Daniel, who occasionally work for Diane here. Shamba and Samantha lived here in a teepee (sp?) for a year or so. they're aiming to live completely self-sustainably, which is pretty cool in my opinion. so they were out at the farm the other day and invited me to a potluck in downtown Boone. I should add here that I have made a rule on this trip never to turn down an invitation. so I accepted (bet you thought I would make an exception!). I'm becoming quite social and good at conversing with strangers (I guess it's easy when you can fall back on your 'I-just-escaped-from-a-cult-what-have-you-done-lately?'-story.) so this potluck was a nice little mix of Appalachian State students, Boone workers, and jazzy musicians. I shamelessly filled up my plate and grabbed a beer (sorry, but my other rule is to never fill a plate halfway) and settled on the couch where people milled around and complimented my jewelry (oh yes, I'm like a queen of some foreign land). I think I'm overusing the parentheses. oh well, my fingers are going numb because it's really cold on this hill...currently the sun has gone down and I haven't drank enough wine to warm me up.

back to the story. I met loads of very nice people and had a great time. it was Shamba and Samantha's four year anniversary (of dating), and they had to give me a ride home. classy third-wheel action. we celebrated by going out and getting potato skins, nachos, and a literally GIGANTIC brownie ice cream sunday (for my south jersey readers: think Duffers, but bigger). I apologized 327 times for being the third wheel, but they were too nice to tell me to screw off and walk the 15 miles home.

the next night (oh yeah, there's more), Diane invited me to a Kiwanas-sponsored spaghetti supper at her mother-in-law's place of residence. I socialized my ass off at a nursing home, and the ladies looooved me! Diane knows just about everyone that lives there (seriously the sweetest woman alive) and apparently a couch-full of ladies asked her who the beautiful young lady accompanying her was. I was just dashing in my ratty old Pashmina (never been washed and has been to every horseshow/road trip/sickness possible) and $.50 thai earrings. Ardath, Rob's mother, is a lovely lady and was very welcoming when I traipsed into her apartment. I love her name, by the way, so if I ever come up with a child in my lifetime, you'll know where the name came from.

well this post has gone on about long enough (and my computer's about to die). I'll try to do this more often so that you don't have to sit for two hours to catch up with my daring stories of bravery and combat. I know my butt is numb, and I hope that you've been sitting on a comfortable chair and not a grassy knoll like I have. farewell, and until next time, hope you're all doing well and thanks for checking in!