Just being me

Now my car is REALLY sick. Like it just won't go. That part isn't very interesting. My dad didn't get a call this time because those conversations always start with "get a bigger hammer" and end with "Take it to a mechanic." I don't know why I expect him to be able to diagnose from 3000 miles away.

Had it towed back to the same mechanic. The same towtruck driver who discovered that my car wouldn't start because there was a cover over the contact came to get me. Because he is a towtruck driver, before he would put the car on his truck, he had to open up the hood and look at the engine. The first thing he noticed was that there was a crack in a hose that goes to a part called something like "crank case breather." I'm sorry that I can't reproduce his twang, so you'll have to imagine it.

"See that there, it's all dry rotted. That's what's making all that smoke come out the back... that'll hafta be replaced." And he yanks the hose and rips it in half (yeah, I guess it will have to be replaced NOW). The car starts going varoOOOm, varoOOOm and sending out huge clouds of smoke. Then he tries to take off the little bit still on the hose mount, and it won't come off. He says, "Hang on. Lemme get mah tools. That'll sure burn up your engine." The car is still roaring. He comes back with a ring of keys and uses them to pry off the little bit. He finally decides to turn the car off and put it on his truck.

So then he asks us, "Can I get outta here going to the left?" (NOte: I was at the Applebees in E-town, which one reaches by means of an access road running from Walmart) Windy (who was with me) and I both tell him that we think the other end of the access road is a dead end. He doesn't believe us. What can I say? We have boobs. Obviously we couldn't be right. We get in her car to go to the mechanic, and what do we see? Our friend the grease monkey trying to turn his truck around at the dead end. Heh. The end. For now. I don't know what is making the expensive sounding noise yet.

Quote of the Day:
"There are not pretty girls. There is just a lot of vodka."
-- Russian proverb

I have our new friends Sinan and Tuuba to thank for this lovely quote. They are newlyweds who just moved here from Turkey. I met them when they were staying at the hotel; they invited Melissa and I over for dinner. Good food, good company. You can't get better than that.

Quote #2
"How were the Maya able to make predictions about future events, including doomsday, with such accuracy?"
Ummm... that remains to be seen, does it not?
-- History Channel, "Decoding the Past"

Here is what I think about courage: It has been said (often) that courage is not the absence of fear, but the strength to do things in spite of fear. Even though every other Disney movie reminds us of this truth, I don't think our culture gets it. Our icons of heroism are, for the most part, not allowed to show fear. Maybe part of the reason so many people seem to have such inertia in their lives; change is supposed to be easy, painless, and comfortable. Most of the stories we tell don't tell the truth about courage.

I think that the truth is that it takes a lot of courage to live well. It always has, though the challenges may have changed. The difference is that 200 years ago nobody seemed to expect life to be easy. Most people were just scraping by, facing physical hardships that I can only imagine. Pioneers like Alexander Campbell (founder of Christian Churches/Churches of Christ) crossed oceans and mountain ranges, cleared fields and built houses by hand and negotiated life around hostile natives and wild animals- and still had time to start major Church movements, all without a trace of self pity. Whatever you think about the settlement of North America, you have to admire their courage. They did all this because they wanted their lives to change and recognized that they had to take action for change to occur.

It is still scary to take action. However much you may dislike your life, at least you know how it is. It's hard to say what life on the other side of change might be. But without change, and its attendant risk, your life is likely to be small and restricted. That's where courage comes in, because a risk that doesn't have a real possibility of loss isn't a real risk at all. And if nothing else, there's a risk that some of the people around you will think you're nuts. So you have to be brave- to look inside yourself and see what's really there, to step out in a new direction, to keep your integrity (in the sense of inner and outer strength) against outside attack.
And that is what I think about courage.

The great trip home for Christmas was a fine success. The only real downer was having to leave, and the trip back to TN was a pain in the butt as my last flight was canceled and I had to stay over in Chicago and miss work on Saturday. More on that later.

Highlights: On the flight out, I met a lady who writes a blog on faith for the Washington Post. A very interesting person. She is spending 6 months traveling around the US looking for the "soul of America." Whatever that means. But I think that might just be the coolest job ever and I am jealous. It's too bad that I am so attached to things like comfort and stability because I will probably never do anything like that. Check it out: http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/findingfaith/

There was lots of quality time with my folks. My dad and I got to make our traditional "expedition" (a shopping trip wherein one ends up going many more places and buying more things than planned upon) and I helped pick out some presents for my mom. And my mom took me shopping for some much needed clothes since much of what I have is too big/worn out. It is always fun to spend other peoples' money. But really I just like to have the chance to be with and talk to my parents. It was a comfort to be with my family for awhile. I managed to make their cat like me too. By the way, she is trained to wait until you have a towel in your lap before she will sit on you. She is very insistent about this.

My niece and nephew have grown so much in the last year and are busy acting their ages. My nephew is talking up a storm and just as opinionated as his sister was. We got to watch many repetitions of "The Boo Angels." My niece is still on high gear all the time, but this year we did less wrestling (Aunt Happy is getting old and tired) and more reading together. My knitting lessons were not a success, but she helped me make the Christmas dinner Baklava. She actually did most of the work, I just explained how to do it. And did not let her lick all the sugar off the measuring cups... I'm a meany-pants like that.

The Sniders, long time church members, all came over Christmas night. It was nice to see the "boys" (now 26 and 29), kind of strange to talk as adults.

On my trip back I met an interesting man at the shuttle station who turned out to be a PhD in history. I learned a lot about how the medical professionals in the antebellum South viewed aging in Africans (they believed that slaves could live to 150 and argued that slavery was therefore a "healthful" lifestyle... if you run out of conversation with a PhD, just ask him/her about their doctoral thesis and you'll be good for hours) and the mid 18th century church he is trying to renovate into a home. Obviously not a man who likes his life to be easy. It helps to meet people to talk to while I travel.

That is all for now.

The wind is howling around the building, but I am warm at the front desk. It has snowed all day but we don't have any accumulation to show for it. I take responsibility for this: I brought stuff to work in case I needed to stay overnight.

The wind chill is 18. All the smokers at our smoke free property keep going outside. I don't think I would keep up a habit that requires me to go outside in this weather every 2 hours.

The mechanic couldn't find anything wrong with my car- the going theory is that maybe some of the hose clamps were loose and so I lost coolant over time. Then this morning Trivia told me that her car is sick. She can't drive it at all and it will be awhile before she can get it fixed. So right now the plan is that she is going to get me to and from Knoxville and use my car while I'm gone. This makes me happy because I will be able to save about $40 if I don't have to pay for parking AND I can help my friend. I hope it all works out, but if it doesn't I can always go back to plan A.

We also had an adventure: I asked Trivia to wait until I checked to make sure I hadn't left my lights on... and she found that she had left HERS on (she borrowed her brother's car). Oops. Unfortunately I couldn't find my jumper cables, and anyway this car has a cover over the battery. Bolted down. It is a Fiero; apparently the person who designed it had a vendetta against car owners. So we went inside to look for help and I spotted some people who I knew to be handy as they go work on houses in Mississippi. So a nice man helped us to get her car started and all was well. Well, he did it all and we hopped up and down singing "We're staaaaanding in the snow, just staaaanding in the snow, What a glorious feeling....." (FYI did find my cables at home)

I'm pretty excited about going Christmas shopping tomorrow am. I like to look at pretties and try to find the perfect thing for everyone. Especially if I can go when it isn't too crowded. Also I am going to help the church ladies box up cookies and Tuesday we are going to deliver them. Yay! Though I hope I can ride with someone else since I don't know where most people live. Tomorrow night is the Speedway in Lights foray and Tuesday is Tacos and presents. And doing secret stuff. It is going to be a busy few days! But I am soooooo excited to see my family.

I know that everyone thinks I'm crazy, but I still think that the kind of gifts a man gives a woman says a lot about how he thinks of her. And since I'm single now, there's nobody to be offended by my saying so. It isn't so much a literal sort of "You gave me a turkey so you think I have meaty thighs" as a general sign of whether a man (or anybody) understands you at all. I don't think it's too much to ask a man to think about what kind of person you are and what you- as an individual, not some generic "woman"- might like. That is what I do when I buy a gift- why shouldn't I be able to expect the same in return? All it requires is a little observation. If a woman has no knicknacks in her home, she probably isn't going to be thrilled over repeated gifts of plastic dustcatchers. And I should have realized with the first angel figurine that I wasn't allowed to be a real human being. It's all my dad's fault. He actually tries to buy my mom things she likes instead of buying the first heart-shaped thing he sees in the drugstore.

It's an awful dilemma, though, when someone theoretically close to you gives you something you hate. You don't want to hurt his feelings, and you do want to be grateful for that he thought of you, but at the same time you don't want to receive more of the same. And in my case I wonder how in the world after X amount of time he could still think I like X. There has to be a way of saying "You know, I don't really like toenail pompoms. I have more than I will ever use. I would really like a tool I can use in the kitchen when I am cooking for you (or whatever)." without sounding like an ungrateful jerk. All I ask for is a gift that says "I thought of you- you the person- when I saw this."

I do not feel like beginning my study for the old people final. I have not posted in a long time. How convenient.

I finally submitted my degree program. It only took 3 hours. I guess all the admin staff at school have already given me their frowny faces, because nobody lectured me on the inadvisability of waiting until one has less than a year left before choosing a thesis advisor. I found out that I have been using the wrong form all year, so there are 2 more classes I have to take I didn't know about. So I have 24 credit hours (8 classes) left, not 18. At least I didn't take anything unnecessary this semester, though it does turn out that the entire second year of SME was extra. But at that time I had no idea I wanted to be in the counseling program. I decided not to take my OT elective over Winter break because I would like some time off, and there isn't any hurry. So, it is official: I am a pastoral care and counseling concentration student. Dr. Holland is a lot more flexible than a lot of the professors, and I think I will like that.

On Tuesday I went to lunch with the calling ladies and the December birthday people. I think Dennis was the oldest at 95. Hanging out with old people is still unfamiliar enough that I wanted to get the giggles as we were trying to herd our group to our table at the back of the restaurant. It was like a "slow race" with walkers instead of bicycles. They love Olive Garden because there are no steps to get in. Of course, since I'm the one who fell and hit her head that morning (I was trying to put on my boots while standing up, I'm fine), maybe I should have a walker too.

After that I was driving out towards Valley Forge when my car overheated. Thank the Lord for cell phones! I pulled over at a gas station, and of course the man in the store was shaky on English and knew even less about cars. He wasn't sure what I should do, but he offered me a $1 off a bottle of antifreeze. Ummmm, no thanks. I called Dad, and we finally decided to put some water in the radiator when it was cool. That seemed to do the trick, as it has not overheated since, but that's a temporary fix. I still need to find out why the radiator was a half gallon short of fluid. I am taking it to a mechanic this afternoon and he will put some kind of pressure doo-dad on it to see if there is a hole or maybe just a bad radiator cap. We'll see. There is a man who does work for free in the evenings for our school, but I'd rather not bug him if it is something real simple. I'd really like to get this resolved before I head to Knoxville next Thursday. It'll be ok, it's just a hassle at a bad time. The good news is that if it's something really catastrophic, someone at school has offered to take me to the airport and pick me up.

So I'm doing pretty well. I get really sad sometimes, but life goes on. There are still lots of good things in my life and I can still get happy about things. Like the other day I startled a deer on my walk, and I felt good just watching it bound away. And Therion still likes to try to play in his shoebox, even though he doesn't fit so well anymore.

Taking a break from my paper. I am thoroughly enamored of my new lava lamp. I sometimes think I have some autistic tendencies. I also get distracted by the falling water in the shower. How, you may ask, did I come to have a lava lamp? I will tell you. By winning the first annual costume contest at work. Only trouble is, I don't know how i will top it next year. Pics soon, I hope.

Went to volunteer chaplain appreciation dinner this evening. they had good music, a good storyteller and wonderful food. Not at all styrofoamy. Lucky for us, we did not win one of the hideous cat centerpieces. Though I thought it was funny when I realized that Bob and I were the youngest people in the room by 20 years. Dr. Brown was there as an emeritus chaplain. It was nice to see him- it has been a tough year for the ESR beta generation (Dr. taber died and Dr. Thompson is not doing well and Russell Blowers died last weekend). I sat with Beth and Jose and their spouses; Jose told us stories about his life in El Salvador and how he came to America. His wife did not talk a lot, but she livened up the evening by wearing a pumpkin centerpiece as a hat.

It's getting that part of the semester where I realized I have to do some actual work. Actual work is not so fun. Honestly, I don't mind the research so much, but putting it all together in something like a cohesive paper is hard. I don't know why I ever thought that I belonged on the PhD track.

I've been having a good time visiting with the calling ladies. There is something very quieting about being around older people. A lot of them are the kind of person I want to become. I'm actually trying to figure out my schedule for next semester so i can keep going... I probably won't be able to do the birthday lunches because I need to take stone Campbell with Dr. Blowers, but at least I will be able to go calling. I've taken more classes with Dr. Blowers than anybody else- and at least theoretically, my concentration is in counseling, not history.

I turned in my reflection paper on the reading for my old people class yesterday. Dr. Holland said it should be like a conversation among myself and all the writers, so i wrote it like an interview transcript. It was a lot more fun. I hope he doesn't hate it, since it isn't exactly Turabian approved. But it got me thinking a lot about the disconnect between theologians and... reality. Some of our authors liked to rant about the "therapeutic culture" and how Americans treat old age like it's a disease and we try to cure it. They have a point, but on the other hand, it's hard to expect people to see someone suffering and not try to fix it. I got pretty passionate about it in class. I think one of my classmates is annoyed with me.

I guess I had better go down and let the cats out of the bathroom. Kitties who wake people up do not get to roam free. Alatheia is probably still hiding in the litter box. They will be disappointed when they find out that they aren't going to be fed for a couple of hours since I won't be home until late tonight.

I'm six weeks behind in the world. I just found out that Madeleine L'engle died in early September. She was almost 89. It hurts me to know that such a bright soul is gone from the world. Thank God she left so much of herself in her books. I think my theology is far more Madeleinian that it is Calvinist or Augustinian. When I pick up her writings I know that I will come away calmer, with a wider perspective of God and my world and my place in it. Oh, I am so sad.

One of my professors had a double knee replacement surgery last summer. Before the surgery he was tottering painfully around with the help of a cane. Today I saw him walking around easily, unassisted, so I stopped by his office to ask him how his new knees were treating him. He smiled real big and told me they were great- in fact he is going golfing with some of the other professors tomorrow. "I really appreciate things like that now," he said, "since I couldn't do them for so long."

"Getting things back that we lost makes them really precious." I replied.

As I thought about it, I realized this was very true. That's why we have the stories of the lost lamb, the lost coin, the lost son in the Gospels. Isn't that one meaning of redemption- retrieving something valuable that was irrevocably lost? And knowing that it was lost makes us hold on to what was returned with a deeper fervor.

There's a deeper meaning here somewhere. I'll just have to think on it.

We finally got our lobby floor cleaned on Friday. I don't think it's been done since the hotel opened 8 years ago. We have this light beige tile which was a lovely shade of gray/brown. This wasn't too noticeable until we ordered new rugs, which were smaller than the new rugs- so they had this lovely white border around them of tile that had been sheltered from the daily onslaught of feet. And let me tell you, it was bee-yoo-tiful. But I think it helped our GM's case when she was begging the mother ship for the money for the cleaning.

The lobby floor is so pretty and clean now! It makes me happy just to look at it. The men that came actually moved all the furniture, then put it back when they were done (usually workmen just throw stuff around and leave us to return it to put it back). It's amazing to GET good service while working at the hotel. (BTW, if anybody is in So. Appalachia and needs a clean floor, let me know)

In other news, why is it that we can charge a fee for smoking but when a guest pees all over a room we can't even mention it to him?

I promised a scrapbooking update, so here it is. I met Crystal at the home at 10:30, as arranged. The person we were supposed to meet was not there and did not tell anyone who we were supposed to work with. So we filled out volunteer paperwork and compiled a list of supplies (meaning Crystal made the list and I made encouraging noises). It isn't quite at fiasco status yet, but it's getting there- so we decided that at least from the church end we need to be more organized. We're going to figure out what all's going on and e-mail everybody who wants to scrapbook with the info so everyone doesn't have to start from scratch.

The good thing is that when I sent an e-mail to Aaron, our minister, to let him know what was going on and what we planned to do, he emailed me back that he would talk to the nursing home lady. There really isn't any need for him to step in, we can handle it, but I appreciate his willingness to help. So much of my ministry experience has been that I get thrown into a situation without training or guidance and can't get any assistance when I get in over my head. And when I told him that we had it under control, he was okay with that too. Good preacher. (pat pat)

I haven't been sleeping well and am consequently clumsy. First I spilled breakfast on my shirt and had to change. Then I was reading in the student lounge with my giant water bottle of doom next to me in the nice squishy chair. Open. I bet you can't guess what happened next. In case you aren't as bright as I think you are, I'll tell you: I managed to dump half of that thing all over the chair and me. It ran to the back, so I had a giant wet spot on my pants. I sat there for a minute, weighing my options, and decided to first go to my car to get a sweatshirt to tie around my waist. While I was out there, I got buttonholed by a couple people, so it was probly 10 minutes before i got back with a stack of paper towels. When I entered the lounge, I found a whole crowd of people gathered around my chair, staring at the huge wet spot in the chair. It took some convincing to get them to believe that my accident was of the water bottle type.
I was wet the rest of the day.

The bad first: I had an awful weekend at the hotel. The kind that makes me consider not going back. Nothing super catastrophic, just that Chinese water torture of one minor negative thing after another. If you want to hear the details of the guy who tried to get me fired because the pencil I gave him was too short, check out my post on the hotel worker's community. I put most of my work complaints there because they understand my pain (only half in jest).

I went to a conference for dementia patients before work on Saturday. That was the good part of my day. I learned a whole lot and met some really neat people. One of the ladies I met is the person I plan to interview for my old people class. We talked enough on Sat to count for the first meeting, I think. The best part of the conference was lunch- All the people at my table were sharing their stories and the lessons they had learned. They were very gracious to me. That is the stuff that restores my faith in humanity and myself.

Today I joined the ladies' calling group at church. (In case you don't know, calling means you go to visit people.) As my minister promised, they were super thrilled to have me. I wasn't prepared for their enthusiasm. They are such a caring, compassionate group of people. I was impressed by their commitment to continuing to include the people who can't make it to church in the congregation. It's always really sad when I meet people in the hospital who haven't heard from anyone in their church in months. And the coolest part is that these ladies are not staff members- totally under their own initiative and direction they find out what's going on with church members and extend love and care to them. Today I went with one of them to a retirement village and visited with a 92 year old woman who is NOT a native of the area because she didn't move here until 1942. I'm excited. I'm also supposed to start doing some scrapbooking at another home with a girl at church, but don't ask me for any details because nobody seems to know what's going on. Fuller report after I do it.

It had to happen eventually... one of our neighbors got a puppy (that isn't the part that had to happen). So now he is often out walking the puppy, and I stop to talk to him for a minute. One day last week we were chatting, and he says "The other girl... she is your... partner?" Heh. No. We always figured the neighbors must wonder about us, but nobody ever said anything. It's mildly annoying because sometimes friends really are just friends, not "friends" (why is our culture so obsessed with who you have sex with? And how is it anybody's business?). Not really a big deal, people can think what they want, but on the other hand both of us are in positions where a rumor of that sort could be a problem. But as the b-day card I gave to Bob said "If you aren't making the neighbors wonder, you just aren't trying hard enough."

Are there really people who believe the "I left my wallet at XYZ location and my dad will be here tomorrow with his id" story? Do I really look that stupid? This is 90% of the reason I still wear glasses instead of contacts... they make me look smart. Get out of my hotel, skanky little man. You reek of deceit.

Yesterday Trivia and I had lunch at Russo's. I'd forgotten what a great restaurant it is... from food to background music to atmosphere to service, it's one of those dining experience that just make you feel good. We had lots of good conversation too. Trivia's theory: the church is a place for Christians, so it doesn't make sense to bring non-Christians there. Evangelism should be happening outside the church, rather than dragging non-Christians into a service they don't understand. Respond.

I have several co-workers who aren't Christians and don't want to have anything to do with the church- but they like me. We do talk about matters of faith, but I try to approach them very gently and respectfully and explore their views of the world more than I expound on my own. One young man is Jewish, and we've had a number of deep conversations, all the more interesting because he isn't a very devout Jew, so I often know more about the Hebrew Bible than he does. Heh.

Anyhoo, I also have some co-workers who are Christians of the "bible thumping" variety. One in particular started throwing apologist-type questions and scriptures at Joel as soon as she found out he was Jewish- in a very superior manner. He's said to me that he feels attacked, and I feel very uncomfortable with the way she talks to him about faith. In theory, my beliefs are closer to hers, but I can see clearly why Joel doesn't think much of Christians. I would like to talk to her, but I don't know how to explain that this is not an effective strategy for helping people to get to know Jesus. I guess I'm afraid that she'll say I don't really care about his salvation if I'm not constantly ramming it down his throat.

Plus: Though Dr. Rollston is on sabbatical, he is taking a lot of it in his office. And though I have only taken one class with him, I still stopped by to shoot the breeze. He instantly jumped into show-and-tell mode, because the great Chris Rollston, debunker of artifacts and grapher of epi's, has built himself a rotating bookcase (with the aid of his dad and a friend with lots of tools). It is pretty cool- roughly a 4 foot cube with shelves on all sides, a smooth rotation and a rich mahogany gloss. We discussed the refreshing scent of polyurethane. Says The Rollster: "Kyle McCarter told me that Frank Cross had a rotating bookcase." And by golly, if Frank Cross (who is perhaps best known for helping to edit the NIV) has one, then Chris Rollston must have one too.

Minus: The IT guy sent a mass email out telling me, among others, to change my email address because Moodle (system for online class materials) cannot handle sending stuff to Yahoo and some other engines. My yahoo address is my only address. I have had it for 8 years. It is how all my friends, family and business contacts get in touch with me. Not gonna change it. And I don't see the sense in creating a separate account for moodle. Bah.

Plus: When there are only 9 people in your class, you can take time to discuss your professor's hay fever. And also there are educational benefits, like being able to ask questions.

Minus: When the powers that be shut off the water to the building there is nowhere else to go... since there is only one building in the school. Let's just say I didn't drink the litre of water I had with me.

It's interesting that the goal of CPE isn't to turn people into chaplains or fix all the patients- it's self-awareness. All of that work and reading and writing and angst and tears is all for the purpose of making the student aware of who he or she is and where his or her reactions are coming from. 4 months later I still feel a bit dazed, trying to figure out if I dare trust these heavy wet wings that were exposed when my cocoon was pulled off. Maybe the passive voice is incorrect because I had to do the work myself... but it felt like someone was doing it to me. So many of my presuppositions about myself turned out to be wrong or warped- "I don't relate well to people", "I'm only good for behind-the-scenes work", "I'm too messed up to be able to help anyone." I don't know what to do with the things I've learned, and in some ways I feel like I need to get to know myself.

But I think this is going to be a good year. Suddenly it seems like the staff at school are noticing me and giving me responsibilities, and I'm trying to take them and make sure nobody's sorry they trusted me. I really don't know what is different, especially since I was scarcely on campus last year. I don't know what they see- I sort of wish I did, because maybe it is something important. Maybe they see that over the last year everything changed, and I am starting to live more in accordance with myself. Maybe it all started with that chapel week back in March. They liked those a lot.

I got the syllabi for 2 of my classes. I was surprised at the little current of excitement I felt looking over the assignments for my education class. I've been dreading it all summer, but maybe parts of it will be fun. I'm sure my babies at church will come up- I wonder what Dr. D will think of our curriculum. BTW I am officially a teacher/helper monkey in the ones class now. I'm very happy about that- it makes me feel like I have a niche. I still have to fill out some paperwork, but that isn't a big deal. Well, I do have to find 3 people who will say that they would trust me not to eat their children...

I've been doing some of the reading for my old people class. Over and over, the books say "Don't feel negative about getting old! But remember that getting old stinks!" Eventually I have to write a big fat reflective paper on all the reading, so I'll probably journal some as I go so I have some of that assignment done. Thinking about old people so much... I don't know what to think about it. I get along well with my older patients, but these books make me aware that I don't have any elderly relatives left. My last grandparent died several years ago, the other 3 before I was ten. I can't say I had much of a relationship with any of them, and as I think about them I can think of more negatives and positives. How does that shape who I am now? Who will teach me how to grow old? I don't want it to be my parents, because they aren't supposed to get old. What parts of me are gifts from my grandparents' generation? I feel a little lost.

Today I went to the Appalachian Fair for the first time. It's some kind of tragedy that I have missed it in the past. But now it has been put to rights. From the moment we cruised the many possible parking lots, fields, and wide spots in the road being offered (for a modest fee) for our parking pleasure, I knew it was going to be a fine adventure. Many smiling people waved frantically to us so that we would know that THEIR parking area was far superior to the identical one next to it. Oddly, the one advertising itself for $100.00 per vehicle wasn't getting many takers.

First stop was the restroom. How shocking that most of the commodes were out of order. From there we went on to the vendor barns, where we were encouraged to host many different pyramid scheme parties and got to spin a big Wheel of Fortune. We won water bottles. We visited the "Barnyard Nursery" and I got snuffled by a pig and then went on to the arts, crafts, and veggies building. Gotta love the giant pumpkins. And the middle aged ladies that line danced on the stage, or at least most of them danced and some of them turned around in circles a lot looking confused. But darn it, they were having a good time. It's very comforting to see that fairs still mean a chance for Uncle Ned to show off his zucchini and cousin Maddy to enter her popsicle stick vase in the art exhibit.

We got some fair food and moved on the Show of Shows: THE DEMOLITION DERBY!!!! Everyone paused for a moment of prayer and the national anthem before cheering the flower of Appalachia's male population onto mutual destruction. I was a little disappointed that the engines were so loud that you couldn't hear them crashing into each other, but the flames shooting out of the engines were pretty spectacular. I love the smell of burning oil in the summer...

We toured some Manufactured homes, just to feel some AC. By this time it was dark but still as hot as a demolition derby engine. All of the toilets were taped shut with a sign on them that said "This commode is not connected for use." What is it with the toilets at this shindig? We were also impressed that the living rooms all had a view of the derby and discussed the possibility of building a little nest for us and the kitties with such an inspiring vista.

But the best was yet to come (no, it wasn't the Jersey cows). You will not believe what sort of betting establishments they have in this part of the country. They have a booth, complete with a chain smoking 20 year-old carny pregnant with her 3rd child, where you can bet on which hole a rat will run into. There is a spinning wheel with blocks labeled with color names and each block has a hole. Around the outside of the booth are painted rectangles the correspond to the wheel. To place your bet you place a quarter on one of the rectangles. The sweaty old man carny spins the wheel and dumps a white rat onto it, and the rat scurries into a hole. The winner gets a stuffed animal and the losers just lose a quarter. It's surprisingly hard to stop once you start. But I think the rat and the lady next to me were running some kind of scam. But I know for sure that this would never be allowed in Oregon- all the activists would come out of their trees to make sure that the rat was being paid overtime and getting full health benefits for himself and his same sex partner.

After that, we crowned the evening with a deep-fried Snickers bar, and all my wildest fair dreams had come true, so it was time to go home. Home again, home again, jiggedy-jig.

Today, for the first time in a good while, I feel really good. As in happy and energetic and optimistic. It feels like me. Is that accurate? Of course everyone prefers feeling good to feeling bad- is it unrealistic for me to think that feeling good is my natural state? I actually got a bunch of those nitpicky things done today- laundry and topping off the oil in my car and renewing my driver's license and stuff.

The unfortunate part is that this is the week that I don't take the medication Dr. Green prescribed. I suspect that it is partly responsible for this unbelievable irritability and blahness of mood, and there have been some other unpleasant side effects. But I'm not sure if other medication alternatives will be any better. Or maybe it's just that I haven't had to talk to anyone all day.

This evening I put one of Therion's balls in a shoe box and let him play with it. It took him about 20 minutes to get it out. He's a very persistent little guy. Now he is napping in the box with a definite air of triumph.