This was the fun part...

The wedding this weekend was an event jam-packed with friends. College friends and high school friends, friends by association and distant acquaintences. I wasn't able to take many pictures, so here are just a few:

Our inn was adjacent to St. Mary's Lake - the largest man-made lake in the world. What a tourist attraction! Can you believe that these thousands of acres were dug out by the hands of men with shovels and wheelbarrows. I still want to know where the hell they took all that dirt!



Here's Dezzie teaching Papa a few things about liberalism.











Please note that these pictures were taken approximately 4 hours into the reception. Will and I no longer had control over our facial expressions.











Matt and I go way back. Let's see...back when I didn't like beer, he taught me how to swallow it without actually having to taste it. (I've since imparted that wisdom to many others)...he went snow skiing with us once - didn't make down even one hill before giving up and spending the rest of the afternoon in the lodge. In the college years, he, Brian, and I were the inseparable trio. Many a Friday night we could be found sitting on Brian's couch watching obscure movies, drinking stiff mixed drinks, and laughing. There was a lot of laughter.







I wonder if Sharon ever made it to that Tiki Bar. And I also wonder what Jeff is going to do with all that video footage he's shot recently. Looking forward to seeing you guys again on Friday!









Here are a few last notes:
Many, many thanks to Will and Donna for driving me all over God's farm country and for keeping me calm and somewhat buzzed through most of Saturday. I can't wait to see how the pictures of the house fire turned out. Will, even though you almost killed us a few times with your camera in one hand and your steering wheel in the other, it was worth it - all in the name of art and adventure!

Cass, Parker, Dezzie and Theo - I'm sorry I didn't get to spend as much time with you as I would have liked to. At least Dez and I were able to catch up over cake. (Mental note: Dez does not like nuts in her carrot cake. Mental note #2: Dez does not believe that the little black things in the carrot cake are actually nuts.)

Brian and Molly - Best wishes to you and your new life together.

Today I had occasion to call one of my former professors at UD. He taught me everything I know (okay, maybe not everything) about water. The properties of water, how water behaves as it travels through pipes, how water reacts to pressure, detention basins, drinking water systems, waste water design (Mother Nature designs wastewater...we all know that!), etc. It's strange to return to a place where I was the kid and he was the teacher, feeling now that we are colleagues. In some ways, the time between the college years and present seems like an eternity. A lifetime has occurred between then and now. In some ways, however, it seems like the blink of an eye. As if on a moment's notice, I could be transported back to my old apartment, packing my bookbag for the day ahead. Climbing into my little blue Tersel to drive to campus and search for a parking space. At a moment's notice, I could stop by the boys' house on Kiefaber for a few minutes before we collectively walk to Transportation Class. It's all there. Every moment, living in my memory.

This afternoon, as if on cue, I was walking through the mall and spotted my college boyfriend's mom looking at shoes. I froze. My heart stopped for an instant. In that instant, I chose, possibly unwisely, not to say hello. I wasn't up to it. Not today. Come Saturday, at her son's wedding, I'll leave the twinge of sad nostalgia of those years behind and greet her with the joy of a happy day for her and her family. A lifetime has occured between then and now. All memories are of equal importance.

I am a steward of planet earth afterall...just like W.

Until this spring, gardening was a hobby I participated in by the sheer force of my mother's will alone. I wanted to want to garden like I wanted to want to learn to play the piano. The desire for either had not developed enough to push me out of the starting gate. This spring, however, something has really changed in me. Watching the plants I helped plant last year sprout up anew has been an awe-inspiring experience this year. Greater awe due to the fact that my ill-attention and last summer's brutal drought had seemingly killed every form of life in my garden. But, nature perserveres even from death.

So, this weekend, my mom and I took a trip out to Benkens. It's the Jungle Jim's of nurseries in the heart of what I might call Silverton. We were on a mission to plant my new pot I recently purchased for my deck. My mom, the ever patient gardner, kept me in check as I raced around the grounds itching to take one of every plant and place it in my basket. She kept telling me, "Benkens is a place to look but not to buy, except when you can't find the plant anywhere else. It's too expensive."

I broke her down, though. I am not about delaying gratification. Hell no. So, we selected several plants and were just about finished when I ran across this beauty (see above - I wish I had Will's camera - each leaf is a painting in shades of green). A Hosta "June". My appreciation for hostas has grown by leaps and bounds since I bought this house. They are truly lovely plants.

Check out the finished product of my pot. I'm proud, but I can't say I did it alone. I'm my mother's apprentice. After this weekend, she probably thinks there's hope for me afterall.

Lessons of Housework and Oprah

This morning I got out of bed and immediately began to clean. Putting away dishes, washing countertops, sweeping the floor, emptying the garbage, sorting the old mail and returning all objects to their appropriate homes. What a relief it was to see my house back in order and in this state of order I realized just how much I love the place. I realized how lucky I am to be living in a little piece of heaven on a quarter acre of this planet. I don't want to lose this place. And there comes my dilemma.

I have a decent career and in that career make a decent living. Enough of a living to be able to reasonably afford my current lifestyle. I can't help thinking, though, that I might be better able to utilize my gifts (whatever they may be) in some other line of work. I have romantic visions of quitting my job to work a low-key job in a shop or cafe, someplace where people move in and out and interaction with the outside world comes in a steady stream.

This afternoon I sat down to watch yesterday's Oprah. She had on Morgan Spurlock of "Supersize Me" fame. The discussion was on minimum wage and the working poor. Millions of people work two or three jobs at minimum wage and still cannot manage to make ends meet. Watching this show, I feel very foolish. My romantic visions of a stress-free, yet fulfilling job are doused with the very realistic vision of the poverty that would accompany such a career change. The anxiety of my current job would be replaced with a more pressing stress of feeding and clothing myself. In watching this show, I felt this: What right do I have to be selfishly poor? What right do I have to place a tax on society? I have every opportunity, every leg up, every comfort, every reason to succeed. What right do I have to work minimum wage? I know that sounds crazy, but trust me, it's not. I once watched a man with a college degree, a master's degree actually, with an easy career to achieve, spiral into poverty. He couldn't pay for electricity. Couldn't pay for phone. Couldn't pay child support. Couldn't afford to fix his car. Couldn't afford rent. He received food from free stores. He wasn't helpless. He wasn't even lazy. He was just selfish. Every person spotlighted on Oprah today would give their collective right arm to be in my position. What right do I have to jeopardize that sought after position?

I have a right to do whatever I want to with my life, but not without a well-formed purpose. So, until I form my purpose, I'm staying put. And where I'm at ain't too shabby.

I wonder...

I wonder if I'm known by the Rumpke recycling workers as "that crazy, lazy bitch who lets her recycling bin full of old newspapers sit in the rain week after week until the newspapers form into one molten mess of ink and rotten paper which, when she finally finds reason to move the bin to the curb for pickup, we have to turn away as we dump the heavy, rancid clump into the back of our truck, disgusted."
Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what they call me.

Just Returned from a Quick Trip to the Gorge

Annual Red River Gorge Trip II was a huge success, despite the inclement weather. Close friends, a gorgeous (and brand-spankin'-new) cabin by a yet-undeveloped "lake", plenty of food and entirely too much beer made for great time in the bowels of Kentucky. Even the cold and rain lent their benefits - allowing us to spend more time in our rented home.

Thanks to Dan for driving me down and sharing some choice selections from your musical library. (My breeze through the NYTimes Sunday Edition today was in solidarity with Mr. Wainwright's sentiments.) It was nice drive, even if I did get us lost. Ignore the lack of intention, and let's call it exploring. (Thanks for the pep-talk, too!)

Thanks to Will for convincing me to take a late-night canoe trip. It was a much-needed moment of peace. (And thank you, too, for not turning the canoe over. An icey swim might have curtailed my buzz and we'd still be warming my hands up.)

Congratulations, again, Dee and Brian. I can't wait to meet your baby boy! As always, it's a pleasure to hang out with you and equally a good laugh. And, Dee, maybe as parents, Brian will be so preoccupied with picking on his kid, he might give you a break! :)

Ruth, thanks for letting me hang out with baby Maggie for a bit. It's not often that babies ignore my absence of motherly instinct and sit willingly in my lap for several continuous minutes. Maggie is certainly blessed with your patience and good nature. (Thanks too for the use of your mittens...again, cold hands - you'd think by now I'd plan accordingly.)

Chuck, you caught the very first salamandar I'd ever seen in real life AND you showed me the very first turkey call I'd ever heard. I won't soon forget your dance immitating the approach of male turkey on the prowl. I was convinced.

Jodi and Shawn, it was so good to see you and your little girl. Emma is a sweet little beauty. Thanks for sharing her with us this weekend. Hearing her say my name with that tiny voice was enough to melt my heart!

Donna, thank you again for pulling off a tricky planning job. You make it look easy. Thanks for bearing the burden of my care-free weekend.