Playing Catch-up

In May I went to visit my favorite non-blood-relation on earth: Amber Gibbs. In typical fashion, we crammed as much as we could into our annual visit and had many a laugh along the way.

On a Friday evening, I landed in Charlotte, NC and we went from the aiport to an Old Crow Medicine Show concert at a tiny venue with a gigantic fan (pictured below) and then drove through the night to the ever-lovely Columbia, SC. BANG - and we're off!

Old Crow, unknown people and us (not pictured). Great night, indeed.

Amber looks surprised. I like it.

This picture does not do the fan justice. The blades were 6 feet long, at least, and when it was on: WOAH.

At Amber's house that morning, we prepped for our beach/camping trip near Charleston, where we planned to met up with Julia, an old Greystone friend of ours.

Water, beer, mik and bananas. Nothing but the essentials, obviously.

Kosher dogs. Mmmmm.

And this is how we pack: select all the things we think we could ever need and chuck them into the car. Done.

Upon arriving in Chuck-town (as it is called by certain residents,) we enjoyed a cold beer with our old friend and I learned that there is a VODKA that tastes exactly like SWEET TEA (yikes!) Then we toured Julia's nice but cat-pee-saturated home and headed out toward the beach.

At Foley Beach, it was windy, sunny and we got nicely sand-blasted before we gave up and went in search of our campsite. It was there that we met Redd, a depressing individual and our only site-mate whom I foolishly invited to socialize with us around the fire.

This fire, I made myself. It was my chief responsibility and Amber was shocked and amazed at my skill. I'm not sure if I'm flattered or hurt that her surprise was so profound, but whatever. It was a great fire.

I do work at an OUTDOOR center, afterall...

Home-sweet-campsite!

Shortly after this picture, Amber and I sat in semi-darkness and fretted about wether or not there was a coyote in the bushes, waiting for us to doze off so he could eat our leftover hotdogs/savage our jugulars. The conversation went like this:

Amber: do you hear that?

Sarah: yeah.

Amber: What do you think it is?

Sarah: Probably a raccoon.

Amber: Sounds bigger. Like a coyote.

Sarah: Really, you think so? I doubt it.

Amber: What do we do?

Sarah: Not sure. Lets wait and see.

(more rustling from the bushes 50 feet away.)

Amber: WHAT IS THAT THING?

Sarah: I can hardly see it, but I see its eye...

Amber: (terse silence)

Sarah: It's a deer.

Simulaneous laughter ensues.

There is a deer in this photo. Look hard.

I crept really close for this award-winning shot. CRIKEY!

The next morning we got up, broke down our tiny, sweaty, 1.5-person tent and got ourselves back to the beach as quickly as possible. We enjoyed a delicious breakfast before we went back out to the water to find...

Breakfast is served!

...white caps, driving sand and one or two other people as foolish as we two who where trying to hold down their beach towels, fend off the sandstorm and enjoy the beach.

Our solution was fantastically logical: find a beach in the lee of the wind. Sadly, this was not to be had but we made up for it by driving around, singing loudly and otherwise amusing ourselves. One amusement was Angel Oak, an enormous oak tree that attracts all sorts.

Like these sorts...

And these sorts: two ladies who were playing recorders under the branches. Amber and I have seen our futures and we're horrified.

From the Angel Oak, we headed back to Columbia. There we met Larry, the main squeeze in Amber's life. I like Larry, I even like him enough to give him the thumbs up when it comes to dating Amber, and that's a pretty big deal. Over the rest of the weekend, we breakfasted, barbequed, drank refreshing brews, played disc golf, played board games, took naps, read (bad) books, walked around and around and generally socialized with anyone who would come and hang out. It was outstanding.

Breakfast a la Larry & Amber.

We rounded out the weekend with Babies, the Movie. We loved every stinking second of it.

Sadly for me, the weekend inded with bad weather, switched gates, canceled flights, hours of my life wasted in the Newark airport and a sunrise trip between the Holiday Inn and airport on the New Jersey Turnpike...

But it was worth it. Well worth it.

An open letter Dad (which was meant to be posted on Father's Day.)

Dearest Daddio,

A big Happy Father's Day to you! I wish I was telling you these things in the comfort of 206 N. Waterman Ave, over coffee, french toast and turkey bacon, but alas. I live here and here is not there.

I also wish I was writing these things in a card that I had mailed to you several days ago so that it could be there physically and would tell you that I was thinking of you before the actual day that I was meant to go out of my way to tell you how much I love you, but I thought that might be so shocking (as in outrageously uncharacteristic) that it would be a hazard to your health.

But today I am sitting on my couch at home, thermometer at my right hand, remote control by my left and a blanket over my knees, reflecting on a very special father-daughter memory I have recently had cause to remember.

The year is somewhere between 1983 and 1985 and we are living in a small apartment in Skokie. We have glasses that explode in the cabinets, mouse traps under the beds and David has twice locked himself in his room, climbed a book case and showered baby powder down on the floor as Mom frantically tries to get in.

In the specific memory I've been reflecting on, I'm awake in the middle of the night and I need help. I feel terrible and hot and there's gunk fusing my eyelashes tightly together as I wander out of bed and in the general direction of help (your room.) The funny thing is, when I think of being sick as a child, I think Mom. I can still feel her tucking my hair behind my ears while waiting for the thermometer to finish, I think of her force-feeding me jello and other mushy foods and I think of going to her side of the bed in those pre-vomitous-panic-moments (lucky Mom!)

But on this night, you were the lucky winner.

I went to your side of the bed and you took me to the bathroom and got me a cool wash cloth. You dabbed the crusty yuck off of my eyes, wiped my face and helped me calm down. Then you (lovingly, always lovingly) held me down and did your best to get the darned drops I so badly needed into my bucking and rolling eyeballs before sending me back to sleep.

I don't mean to imply that you didn't care for me tenderly when I was a child. I have lots of memories of you carying me home after a bad bike wreck, of you kissing my (not)feverish head and pronouncing it "cool as a cucumber" and of you braiding my hair nightly in your special side-ways braid that no one else could do.

I just really vividly remember you taking care of me on that one disgusting pink-eye night and thought I'd say thanks now, in case I didn't at the time. I know there's some analogy here about wandering blindly and in need into your father's arms in the dark of night, but in my sub-par condition today, all I can think of is how wonderful it is to have a Dad like you.

Thanks for teaching me to hit a ball with a bat, for showing me how to change my oil, for not booting me out of the car when I nearly side-swiped all those parked cars at 16 and for building me a really cool swing set when we lived on Christiana Street. Thanks for the hot pink huffy two-wheeler and for teaching me to ride it and thanks for cheering me on in track and field, even though I was horrible.

I have a fever today. And pink eye. In both eyes. I wish I was there to wish you a happy father's day, but more than that, I wish you were here, with your cool wash cloth and your perfect Daddy ways.

Love,
Sarah

Listomania

Some things I've been doing:

1. Loading and unloading the dish machine
2. Belaying at the challenge course
3. Falling asleep at the dinner table (in a dining hall full of children)
4. Putting kids in canoes/helping kids out of canoes
5. Making 2 food service directors feel appreciated
6. Laughing hysterically on office floors
7. Sweeping, mopping, hauling, toting, heaving, ho-ing (not the dirty kind)
8. Weeping at the sound of my alarm clock
9. Texting, texting, texting, texting, texting
10. Swilling coffee

Some things I've not been doing:

1. Laundry
2. Buying groceries
3. Checking my personal email account
4. Blogging (obviously)
5. Reading other blogs - sorry Rachel, Keri, Amber, CakeWrecks, Regretsy, Lisa, Stevo, etc...
6. Fixing my headlights so that I can try to pass MA state inspection on the second go round
7. Running
8. Shaving my legs (too much information?)
9. Reading anything that isn't a guest or staff schedule or evaluation
10. Watching TV

But the end is nigh. SUPER NIGH, MAN! Sunday I cross the finish line. After being taunted into forming the apex of the staff pyramid that waved off the last of 8 school busses full of kids today, I realized we just have the weekend to go. And then: BAM. Real life shall resume.

Stay tuned.