Providential Oddities

This afternoon I had a meeting at my local senior center, to get trained on how to ask companies to donate to one of the organizations that funds my workplace.

As I was leaving, I saw a table of women crocheting. Something overcame me, and I sat down with them and just started chatting. I hauled my hook out of my purse* and asked if they had any extra yarn to play with. For about 20 minutes I learned about these ladies and their various crochet meet ups. Monday and Wednesday 1-3 p.m. at the senior center and fourth Thursdays at 6 p.m. at the IHop. They showed me how to properly (EW THERE'S A CICADA!) start your first row and assured me that my meathook-like grasp was a perfectly fine way to hold a hook. They called my technique dainty, in fact. I lamented my problems with following patterns, and they were excited at my freeform approach. It has a name! It's called modular crochet**. I told them about my bag making and my felting, and they absolutely lit up with joy.

I put in a volunteer application, and I hope to stop back by if I'm ever in Durham on a Monday or Wednesday from 1-3. Thanks Lorlene, Hazel and Miss Mary Rita.

I miss my grandma.

* I know. They laughed at me, too.
**Hilarious URL!

Two in the bush

The Chinese honeysuckle had taken over the Northeast corner of my backyard. I'd left it mostly alone since moving in, rationalizing that surely the birds needed that brushy habitat to be happy. The vines hid blackberries that seemed to delight in sproinging out to get me on my legs, my arms, my hands and one especially lovely time near my eye. Yes, it was out of control.

But it smelled so good.

Then a few weeks ago I looked back into the wild corner, that from a few half-hearted reconnaissance missions I knew also hid a tangle of rusted fence, and saw that the noxious invasive had taken down a sapling, bending it down from the back to kiss the edge of the brush.

When I woke up this morning at 6:30 without an alarm, I knew that today I had to do something about it. I figured I'd grab my loppers and just get the worst of it down, to let the new tree stretch back up. Coffee first, of course.

It's really a perfect day today for yardwork--76º now, and sunny, but with a light breeze. So I got to work. I've been such a slugabed all winter, and my stamina needs to catch up with my zeal. Already, though, I've noticed that my pants are too big, and I've had to resort to digging through my donate pile just to find something that wouldn't fall off of me. I'm OK with that.

There's something really meditative about snipping vines the size of large man's thumb. Despite the shade, I soon was covered in sweat, and wiping my face was serving to do little more than leave mud streaks. I didn't stop when I thought I would. Two and half hours later, I had cleared the entire 60 square foot area, but for the trunk of the sapling. My biggest concern, that I'd inadvertently disrupt an active bird's nest, didn't happen. There was a nest, but it was clearly not inhabited. That didn't stop me from noticing the alarm calls of every single towhee, cardinal, robin and wren. My greatest hope, that I'd find the bunnies and ruin their lair, didn't happen either. Ah well.

Now there's a two-foot high pile of sticks, vines, leaves and canes running along the entire back of the property line. My shoulders are sore already, and I smell of clean sweat. When I get up from my chair out here on the deck, I notice that I leave a damp spot from my back. The inside of my nose is coated from the billows of pollen that puffed with every snip, and I'm just now noticing the scratches on my forearms and ankles. The sweat is drying, and I feel good.

Soon I'll take my harvesting knife to a head of romaine and a head of butter crunch, pick some immature sugar snaps, root up a couple of tiny carrots, and pull the rest of the turnips for a salad. I have a thick NY strip that needs grilling.

Life is good.

Take a moment when you can

This afternoon I walked over a few doors down to the bank to deposit some checks. As I came back into the parking lot of my building, I saw a raptor of some type or another alight on a branch nearby. I have a short day today, with little pressing to do at work; just a lot of catch up. So I decided to see what was up with the bird, and see if I could ID it.

I'm not so great with birds of prey. The ones I most easily ID around here are red-tailed hawks and bald eagles. But the problem is that there's another hawk, the red-shouldered hawk, that looks enough like a red-tailed (in repose and from below) that at this point I don't try to distinguish them anymore unless I have binoculars on me.

Which I didn't this afternoon.

Luckily, Mrs. Red-tailed Hawk (which is what I eventually decided she was) sat patiently in a big old willow oak, letting the jays swarm her. They were really quite ruthless and daring. As Mrs. RTH sat there, one jay after another would dive-bomb her back and peck her. She didn't budge.

I stood there for at least 10 minutes (time flies when you bird), walking around to the south side of the tree to get the best light on her. The jays squawked and buzzed around her. We were all just doing our thing.

And then I came in and wrote this, trying not to scratch my arms, face, neck, ears and face where the 3-month old rottweiler a board member brought by to visit licked me all over earlier. I know that dog spit is likely to do this to me, but rolling around on the floor and holding a baby puppy with puppy breath and sweet soft fur who likes to bite my hair and rip my earrings out of my ears apparently trumps any other need I have not to have a blotchy red countenance. If I don't scratch, hopefully the hives will just chill out and not swell. (Yes, I've doped up)

What a great afternoon.

Reconstruction

"Hey, do you remember my Laura Palmer halloween costume? The one where I put on a flesh toned bodysuit, made my hair all big, made my face an ashy gray and wrapped myself in a clear plastic tarp?"
"YES! That was the best costume ever. And Joel came as what's his name...Kyle MacLachlan...Agent Cooper! But all he did was slick his hair back, because he already wore a barn jacket. Such a cop out, and he thought it was so great."

At this moment I am entirely content. I'm at Nemoid's, and I just got back from brunch and a long catch-up session.

I'm rarely at a loss for words, but as I try to figure this out right now, I can't explain the depth of how this encounter has affected me today--all positive.

It's been fabulous to see Crush again, and I am just extremely happy and at ease. He lived part of my life with me that I'd not revisited since it happened, and the feeling of shared history is one that I'm beginning to value more and more.

"And what about that time we sat outside my dorm and we just kept talking until the sun came up?"
"I don't remember that, specifically, but I do remember one time when you had a big linguistics project and we were both in the Tunnel until all hours while you transcribed."
"That's the same time! That's what I had been doing down there!"

I'm trying my best to live in this moment, this glorious moment, but my mind keeps jumping ahead to when this mini-vacation will be over, and I'll be back in the rut. I need to both rekindle and forge new relationships that will sustain me like this one has. It seems like such a small thing, but the worth of it is immeasurable.

"Hey, do you remember when I sat on Tip O'Neill's lap?"
"Of course I do. I took the picture!"
"Do you still have it???!!!"
"No...it was for the newspaper, so I never really had it, per se. Do you remember his speech, though? The font was so large it was, like, one sentence per page."
"You actually got his speech?"
"Yeah, he was so funny. He finished it up, and turned to us and said 'Want this?'"
"That's awesome."

We reminisced, and we caught up, and we had some glorious conversation about hopes, dreams, and many fears. We share a lot, I think, and there's also a wide enough gap in our experiences and where we are that it would be folly to consider more than friendship. I sense that this friendship renewal is going to be fabulous for us both, if we can keep up contact reliably.

I'm just so happy. I'm with friends, I've reconnected with a very old friend, and I'm about to go to one of the other places that makes me happiest to see other friends.

Does it get better than this?

Cryptic

I still have that crush I mentioned several weeks ago. And I just admitted it to him directly after hinting for quite some time. And I can't tell whether his response was encouraging or discouraging. The direct response was opaque (basically that I didn't have to worry, because he was innoculating me with a weakened strain, and so I'd be immune soon--have I mentioned he's hilarious?), and the action was to say that he had to go to the gym NOW. Maybe he doesn't know himself, right? I'm still having fun with it, though. It scares me to think about what feels like an inevitable dashing onto the rocks of rejection, but I'll keep plugging onward, living in the moment.