Look Up Often

Tobarra, Spain

2012-01-13T12:37:00.000-05:00

So this is all I have for you today. Be jealous of our shorts and tank tops!

Tobarra, Spain

2012-01-04T06:31:00.000-05:00

I´ve been to Palermo, Sicily and have settled into the horse farm in Tobarra, Spain. If I can get internet on the 9 January when the internet place reopens from holiday/vacation, I will post some photos. If not, then definitely by 24 of January when I´ll be hitting New Zealand!

Why Yes, Yes We Will Marry You

2011-12-23T12:01:00.002-05:00

Ty: Dear ****, why yes. Yes I will marry you.
Jesse: Dear Jesus, could you just arrange a marriage for T and I? Just tell us when/where. Love, Jesse.
Ty: Hahaha "but also, not anytime soon or we'll spend our lives resenting them for tying us down."
Jesse: Amen!

But really. It would make things simpler for most of us in this post.
___

Ty sends me texts just often enough to make me wonder what is going on in her head and always, always calls me out on things and loves Jesus.
Laura just got a World Vision Hope Initiative internship and is always up for adventure.
Danielle showed me her hairy legs and said something about feeling the wind blow around them.
Michelle agrees time well-spent involves eating ethnic food til we drop and talking about our same, strange habits.
Autumn is about to burst with baby Chapel and still keeps cooking and making me laugh and miss New York. A little.
Steph is willing to move to a third-world country with me and consider what Jesus means when He says things like, "Feed my sheep."
Jenny (who I know vicariously through Angela) kills me with laughter and rawness with her posts about living in Niger at No Zebras Here.
Angela challenges me every time we get on Skype together. And she's writing a book on nothing other than the Bible. Yes, that's the book for her.
Vince and I commiserate about our stress-induced problem of digging our cuticles and hangnails til they're a bloody mess.
Mom keeps me company when I'm out late and walking back alone. And is my Mom :)
Shelley is really busy, but still finds time to e-mail me and revolts against things like; permanent housing, children, marriage, and settling in one place. For now.
Kelsie is the youngest, closest married friend I have who makes me laugh and miss her and Nate.
Nadine is my living link between the US, Canada and Tanzania who reminds me I am loved and not crazy for feeling at home somewhere I didn't grow up and that I am always welcome to see her wherever she is in the world.

These people are my friends. There's more, but they've definitely been present with me on this journey :)

It's so good to have people in your life who have quirks similar enough to make you immediately bond but enough differences to challenge and surprise one another for a lifetime.

An Accidental Death at Novole

2011-12-19T08:03:00.000-05:00

Last night everyone realized one of the horses had been missing for a couple of meals so Ian and I went out this morning to look for her. Lucio came out and found her. A neighbour had cut the fence when he was cutting wood and since the field the horses in doubles as the olive field and is on terraces, Lucio thinks she tripped on the fence or was unprepared for the drop. It looked like her neck was broken.

No one showed much emotion as the neighbour dragged her behind the tractor up the hill to a clear area. The horse was being boarded here and was very old. Her owner seemed unconcerned she was dead and even relieved of the cost to board her and pay for hay. Lucio shook his head and felt bad for her preventable death, but told us this area was no place for horses.

When everyone else had gone and the grinding of the tractor faded up the hill, the other horse came out from behind the tree and approached the body of her companion. Even though the dead horse snapped at her when she ate and was dominant, Lucio's horse was disturbed and frightened.

Assisi, Asian Tourists, and Grave Flowers

2011-12-17T18:37:00.000-05:00

Spontaneously, I decided to make the most of the moment when Lucio asked if we'd like to go anywhere by asking to be taken to the tren stazione to go to Assisi. The other morning I'd been woken up at some ungodly hour by one of the dogs downstairs and feverishly tossed and turned with a great weight on my mind: how would I get to Assisi and/or Florence before leaving this part of Italy, maybe forever? There seemed to be no way to go until today so I pounced on the free time.

To my delight, I saw snow-capped mountains in the distance. I also surely made the only attractive guy I've seen in weeks uncomfortable with all of my craning and shifting to stay in the warm sunlight whilst on the train. He was a few seats over but, unfortunately, I was hard to miss. You know, dirty hair, dog-haired covered jacket, and (all passerby's personal favourite) my Keen hiking boots completed by cement and dirt from working the last few weeks. I also top out at about 5'10 in the boots.

Inside the church was beautiful (no cameras allowed so I sneakily took some video which has a quieter shutter). However, upon reaching St. Francis' tomb, I was more enthralled by the glorious smell of fresh flowers than by the renovated stone that was built around his coffin. He died in 1226 A.D. and we still read and learn from him.

It was interesting to sit and watch people come see the tomb. Most people crossed themselves like they do in Catholic services, some knelt at the altar at the foot of the tomb, and a lot of old women clamored around to reach through the gate and touch the stone. It seems important to note that in 1997 a 5.6 magnitude earthquake rocked central Italy as a whole and damaged a lot of Assisi, including the church. Most of the stone around the tomb appeared to be fairly new. Everyone showed some kind of respect and reverence except for the Asian tourists. It makes sense, considering it's mostly a tourist site now and by enlarge they follow a very different belief system.

I don't know if that's the politically correct term for the Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and anyone else I'm unintentionally excluding from the term Asian Tourists. You know how it is. They all have nice cameras, are dressed smartly, and they invade a site, snapping photos of everything without smiling much at all, rush through like a whirlwind and the guide with the umbrella or sign ushers everyone back out. This is exactly what happened. Now, I have friends from Korea and have met Japanese and Chinese people who are really great. I harbor no known racial bias towards anyone except white Americans. The fact is, you can spot Asian tourists from a mile away and it's always worth watching them sweep an area.

Why people felt compelled to pray to St. Francis and made such a fuss about the tomb is hard for me to understand. In that sweet-looking old stone coffin is ashes of a man who's long gone. The whole point of going is he was such a holy man, which implies he's been with Jesus for eight hundred years. Personally, when I get to heaven, I doubt I'll be checking on my grave to see what flowers are left for me. Unless of course, some weasel leaves geraniums in which I will strike them down with bolts of lightning because no friend of mine would poison my patch of land with a geranium.

I also don't understand why we spend $13.99 for a bouquet of flowers to put on a grave. Can I ask you why you leave flowers? Nobody's there. The cemetery gardener probably won't enjoy them as much as you would having them on your nightstand in their memory.

Oh, if you're wondering what all the hullabaloo is with the carabiniere around the church, you're not alone! It wasn't until I was back at Novole that Lucio heard on the radio that the president of Italy made a visit to the church today! Not that I can tell one suit from another.

Making dinner tonight (gnocchi and artichoke), Claudia told me about a few celebrities she ran into when she lived in New York City. Leonardo DiCaprio was twitching in line for the bathroom, jonesing for cocaine. Meg Ryan is cute. Sarah Jessica Parker is a hard-core vegan. David Bowie is stingy with his tips, and Claudia told him he had to tip and pretending he "didn't know" because he's English wouldn't fly with her. I love, love, love her for that. "I don't care who you are!" She said.

In other news, it's too darn cold in our bathroom (especially when the hot water isn't working) and there are too many cuts on my legs to shave. BUMMER. The gloves I wore for cementing the walls were missing some vital pieces like the finger part of the thumb so my thumb has cement burn. Ready to gain 20 kilos in Sicily like Lucio warned? Heck yes.

My First Dream House

2011-12-16T14:43:00.000-05:00

I went to school for art for a little while. I received stellar marks.

Half-way through this I realized, "Ah! I've never made an architectural rendition of my dream house!" Now that I think about it, that is probably because until recently I abhorred the idea of having a house (which implies settling down). But now I can bring my drawings to someone and have them help me calculate the amount of materials needed to start building and a realtor to help me find some land. It's a pretty broad area and I'm only planning ahead so they should be able to come up with something by the time I've saved up for it.

Already I have $200 towards the motorbike on the side of the house!

Also, I included Kelsie & Nate's, Steph's, and Angela's houses already because they've agreed to come be neighbours. I'm sure we could find space for anyone else!

P.S. Can you find my parents' place? It's hard to see in the distance ;)

Novole & Fish Deaths

2011-12-13T12:31:00.000-05:00

Top is the view from my window of the chapel (A.D. 1715) and the bottom is the last remaining of the four birds.

In a week from today I'll be heading to Palermo, Sicily to meet a new friend...who is from California, under twenty-five, lived in the same area of Tanzania I did, annnnd dated the same guy I did. But of course she's female as I've found little evidence of men travelling to Africa, or anywhere really. I can hardly wait! I haven't hung out with any woman who's even remotely my age in almost two months. None of us women can figure out what men do all the time. Another topic, another day ;)

Our hosts went away for two nights this past weekend and left Ian and I in charge of the house and animals (two horses, four dogs, a bunch of cats, and one bird). While moving brush, Ian was nearly shot by a boar hunter (who was curiously standing on the road three terraces up and shooting into an olive grove) and it rained for two straight days so we couldn't go hiking. When Claudia came back I assured her the cat had not eaten the bird as she'd feared and assured her that the only creatures I couldn't seem to keep thriving (or breathing for that matter) are fish. In all seriousness, I'm an experienced house/pet/child sitter, but I will unintentionally cause the death of any fish you have. Once, we left mine on the counter in his bowl half-dead for four days while we were on vacation and when we came back, he was completely fine. Two days later he was dead. Ciao!

The Exhausting Day of Rest

2011-12-08T11:42:00.000-05:00

Today was supposed to be a restful, productive day. I would finish my scrumptious latte, exercise self-control and put the cookies away, clean the kitchen, put some laundry in, wave goodbye to everyone else and settle in to finish the video for our trip so far.

It was going swimmingly and then, unable to read the Italian label of the laundry detergent, I poured it on top. At first I thought it was the old, "Oh, the bottle's almost empty so we'll put water in it to get the last bit out" trick. But who does that besides my mom? It was bleach. My fingers were slick and the pool chemicals wafted into my nose. Plunging my hand in I pulled the top items out and examined them in the sun. They looked all right so maybe it was bleach for colours. Wrong again.

There is a sizable hole in the one pair that has bleach stains all over it. I'm terribly inept at sewing. It could have been worse, when I hung the clothes up only 60% had a spot here or there from the bleach. This isn't such a tragedy at home when you have more clothes to wear but this is all I have until at least May.

After that minor mishap, I edited all day long. From 10AM-5PM when I saved my video project in Final Cut for the fiftieth time (since auto save is not working) I sat in the kitchen. Confident my project was safe, I left for a few minutes to feed the horses and check my laundry dry-ness.

All the while, the rainbow spinning wheel of death was striking it's deadly blow to my project. Round and round it goes and it never stops so I hit force quit knowing I'd just saved it several times.

Alas. It's gone. Completely and utterly. Even if I try to revert the project, it's like today didn't exist (if only!). There is a black hole that all of my editing fell into and I was a half hour from being finished.

So I have nothing to show for this day except the horrid pinkish orange stains on most of my clothes. I also realized my favorite Nike running shorts have been gone for a long time and my second quick-dry towel for my hair is somewhere in France.

Ian is in Rome for tonight, hopefully enjoying his day off.

One More Day. They Promised.

2011-12-06T12:10:00.000-05:00

Are you tired of olive picking photos? Because I'm ready for this harvest to be finito! Supposedly, we'll be finished picking tomorrow morning and go to the mill in the afternoon.

For the photojournalists, why black and white? Does it mean something? Well, I spend nine hours a day seeing the same colours and this is a welcome relief. Also, I abhor trees this time of year. There are places where trees are green all the time, do New Yorkers even know this?

Lamb Brain for Lunch

2011-12-04T16:54:00.003-05:00

At lunch today, Ian lifted my hand in his defeat of not finishing his half of the lamb's head. He dropped out after the eyeball. Win! Not that it was a competition, but I didn't run upstairs and disappear immediately after declaring defeat now did I? Nor did I scarf down dates because bulgar, bread and lamb brain was an insufficient lunch. Can you see the tuft of fur near the brain? To my delight Ian was actually entertained as I picked up the face and waved it saying, "Not by the hair on my chinny, chin, chin!" Because it actually still had a beard.

I've never had the chance to try eating a brain before and am one step closer to being able to try absolutely anything (not that I can recall ever turning something down but I've heard there's something the Maasai in Simanjiro offer that's hard to swallow. I'll be ready!)

Team, eating anything is all mental. To some people, like Claudia, the brain is the best part. Lucio said the eyeballs are "good", though he might have been just trying to bait me to eat it. I am now slightly skeptical when someone tells me something can be eaten because sometimes they're just messing with me and I eat it only to have them gasp and sputter, "you're not supposed to eat that!" as I'm gagging and it's already half-way down my esophagus.

Upon first inspection, I maturely cried out, "This is like dissection in science class!" To which I received two blank stares from our hosts. "Do you dissect things in school in Italy?" No. No, they do not.

As I was considering whether or not to shower tonight, Claudia sailed by and informed me we would be dining out for pizza tonight and there would be a lot of good-looking boys. "Better looking than Paolo?" I inquired.

[Side story: Paolo appears to be the manager of the olive mill I went to last week with Lucio and Joe, who has since left us for another farm, but regardless, I was milling around shooting video when he gestured for me to join his conversation with Lucio and Claudia. I'd seen this before in Tanzania. It's always the same. "How many goats you want for her?" Joking. They usually just ask if I'd be willing to marry them and are mildly offended when I say no with my defense being their inability to meet my height requirements and the distance to ask my dad permission). Paolo is a bit more crude and to the point but luckily Claudia had encountered this side of Paolo as well and warded him off. I escaped at the first chance to sit in the chilly car with Joe where we compared mobile phone service providers, cars, and of course, sang as much of American Pie as we could remember. End of side story.]

Of course, I showered, put on the cleanest clothes I have which have only been worn at least three times already, and braided my long locks. Unfortunately, as Claudia duly noted, there were no attractive men or women to be found. "Nothing even nice to look at!" She exclaimed. Love her. Love her. Love her.

As a final note, lamb tongue is better with salt and eyeballs taste a bit like snails. Bon appetito!

La Cucina

2011-12-03T12:21:00.002-05:00

Olives

2011-12-03T12:20:00.000-05:00

Italy's Most Eligible & Unshaved Bachelorette: Graphic Content!

2011-12-01T12:17:00.003-05:00

And this is how it's done!

Never, do I ever, want to do No Shave November again. At least once a day I looked down to untangle my pants from more brambles but wait! It's only my nasty leg hairs getting twisted around again.

Discoveries: I have been bequeathed my dad's unibrow (not pictured!), as well as his leg hair and armpit hair. A lucky woman am I! My legs even have bald spots like his, except no one played Ouch Ouch with them which may have caused that. This is the game I played with my dad when he would come home from work. I would race upstairs after him and tear out his leg hairs as soon as they were in sight. Seriously. But let's be fair- I had my rainy-day barbie times and even a favorite blue dress I'd wear... in between playing in the mud and Ouch Ouch.

Go ahead. Be grossed out. Call your mother, your children, your pastor, the media. But whatever you tell them, make sure you include that I'm an eligible bachelorette! Despite the horrifying and grotesque state of my under arms, I clean up rather well so... gentlemen? Takers?

And on this episode of Bachelorette, I'm going to shave. Wish me luck! Feel free to comment, I already have, "sick and wrong".

Escape Plan, Daydreams & an Unwanted Bathroom Visitor

2011-11-30T13:30:00.001-05:00

It may be a little early, but post graduation plans:

1. save every penny
1.5. go see the Grand Canyon (because that's the only thing on my list that can't be completed outside the US
2. sell everything I own
3. clean my room and vacuum my way out so I don't leave footprints in the carpet (I have suppressed OCD)
4. buy a one-way ticket to the west coast of Africa
5. pack up my Kiwi, some clothes and books and sneak a jar of Nutella on the plane
5. buy a motorbike and get to the other side of the continent (with a sidecar for my pooch)
6. Get a real job. Maybe.
7. Buy a house in Africa
8. Convince Stephanie and Nate & Kelsie to buy the houses on either side of me (they're the only ones I think could be persuaded)
9. Live happily ever after.

In my daydreams, this happens. All day long while I pick olives.

Actually, not really. Usually I'm wondering when we're going to eat, if it's worth it to try and get sun on my neck instead of just my arms and forehead, if I will beat Ian or Joe to the olive branch I've been eyeing to rake next, what I read in One Thousand Gifts this morning, what I read in Whatever You Do, Don't Run last night, how long I can wait to find out what Mma Ramostwe does with her depressed, mechanical fiancee in No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, when we're going to eat, how many words I know in Italian besides curse words, if there's a more efficient way to tie my hair back than two braids, if the bites on my arms are from spiders, and it my armpit hair is as offensive to everyone, who is too polite to say anything to my face, as I imagine.

This might be too personal to share, but this is the twenty-first century, and this is the internet! I never need to see your faces twisted into contortions of disgust at my overindulgence in sharing personal information. You came. You might regret it. I can only imagine Angela's face and it makes the following all worth it:

For some reason, as soon as I started down the hill tonight, I had to go. And I mean, go like I'd been holding it in all my life and was now so old and had so worn out my bladder muscles that I couldn't hold it in any longer. That kind of "go". So I found the best cover and some perfectly acceptable flora to take the place of toilet paper.

But it was feeding time for the horses and they knew to expect it from me. Just as I gathered the last of my flora toilet paper, I was spotted.

"I simply cannot go with you standing there. Please, would you mind? Come on. Vamos!" This horse only spoke Italian and had no intention of leaving me alone but I could almost hear her,

"We're both women. I'm hungry. Why in hell are you hopping from foot to foot like that? What's than in your hand, is it edible? Do you have more apples for me?"

Though I might be female, I've nearly mastered the art of peeing in the bushes. No fire ants, foreign flora, snakes, or other wazungu going in close proximity? Why, what a treat! Except this horse refused to leave and indeed waited right next to me until business was done (not without nudging me and sticking her nose in my face).

As I worried she'd push me over en medias res, I started laughing and have to say that it was one of the most enjoyable bathroom, er, field experiences I've had.

Confession? I can't wait to shave tomorrow! Do I hear the call of No-Deodorant December?

Nope. Definitely not.

Olive Picking

2011-11-28T12:21:00.001-05:00

Viola, the boxer

view from our first tree this morning

Our host Lucio was a travelling photographer in another life and has, of all things, a Leica M6 and a Canon 5D! I haven't been shooting much because we go out at sunrise and come in when it's getting too dark to work. Today's the first time I took any photos while picking olives. Bad photographer. But my feeling is it's the last few days we can pick olives before the season ends and that's what we're here to do. I'm going to bring my camera out from now on and see what I get but it's so big I knock it on the trees and always have to clean it.

I'm envying the new Nikon 1 a friend introduced me to! It's small!

The other night I thought I'd mastered the art of starting a fire and sat in bed with the lights out talking on Skype (Ian went to sleep and unfortunately we're sharing a room yet again). My eyes started watering and it smelled smokey so finally I turned on the light and to my horror realize the stick on the stove was smoldering and had an orange glow. We were slowly going to die of smoke inhalation. With surprising dexterity at a strange lock, I threw open the windows and frantically waved the smoke out with lavish gestures. Ian never woke up and hasn't noticed the lingering scent of smoke.

If I Had a Friend...

2011-11-27T13:11:00.001-05:00

I'm beat.

For the first time in...a wicked long time, I collapsed on my bed with my shoes on and nearly fell asleep at 5:15PM. My body aches, my pants have fresh olive oil on them from kneeling on some strays; and crumbs, olive tree bits and dirt are clinging to my socks. It took us all day, but we picked 13 cassettes (crates) of olives for pressing.

We started working at 8:30AM, stopped at some point to have sausage and pork liver sandwiches (I gave my liver to Ian...) and Sicilian cannolies for dessert, then continued until after sun set which is around 5. Maybe not the best idea in the world, but I zipped off my zip-off pants and wore shorts most of the day to bare my soul and leg hairs to the two unknowing men we worked with as well as our hostess's Roman parents. Take me or leave me! Shorts was a bad idea only in that my legs have so many scratches I can either shave around them in patches... or wait until they heal and resist the urge to blind everyone with their whiteness again. It's so good to be working outside and to eat by a fire. I never used to like sausage, but apparently I wasn't hungry enough. Not sure what it would take for me to eat liver though.

If I had a friend here, as I'm imagining now we would...

- trade back rubs
- brush each other's hair (I used to think this was weird until I got used to it)
- rant and rave about how wonderful the warm night is (because, ideally, we'd be near the equator)
- have coffee
- eat chocolate/dessert
- read out/share things we've learned today
- listen to Ray LaMontagne
- watch Madagascar and eat digestive biscuits with Nutella (and double dip)
- pray
- challenge each other
- plan a crazy adventure after college
- look up YouTube videos
- find something to laugh hysterically about
- pile into the car and go to Wegmans or to look for something to do
- walk around town
- cook something
- read in the same room (some people think this is weird, but if we're really friends, it's weird if we don't)
- go to church and inevitably end up at Javas
- (in a perfect world) enjoy the smell of Lady of the Night coming in the windows

We would talk about God and life because at the end of the day, that's all we have. And chocolate. We'd probably need some chocolate too.

Ciao, Italie!

2011-11-26T16:58:00.002-05:00

We've made it- at long last, to Montanare, Italy. It's beautiful here and the sun has shined all day yesterday and all day today without a cloud in sight. I feel as though we made a sneaky escape from the rain and it just hasn't found us yet.

Today Lucio, one of our hosts, took Joe (another WWOOFer from London) down to the olive mill. We waited for hours because even though Lucio had scheduled to come and press at 2, they weren't ready for a while after. Joe and I attempted to find our way to Cortona but since the road we were on only seemed to stem off into driveways, and Joe gave up rather quickly, we simply returned to the mill to await our fate.

Also, for your entertainment, today everyone weighed themselves on the olive scale. Literally. We'd look over and see other people taking turns too so it wasn't just us. Joe and Lucio went and before I got on Lucio guessed and when I stepped on... well, it's been a long time since I've seen anyone's eyes bug out as much as his did. "WHOA!" His jaw dropped. I weigh a couple pounds more than Joe and a few less than Lucio but he did guess nearly thirty pounds underweight. I'll chalk it up to the fact I have definitely gained some muscle but should probably pick up running again...

Urgency.

Bad Laundry & 4,000 Marches

2011-11-22T13:54:00.000-05:00

In the sink, in the bowls...

Clean laundry? Maybe someday.

This is all I my legs have to give. I'm ready for a shave and dry clothes!

The Day the Washing Machine Won

2011-11-18T17:04:00.004-05:00

Prologue
There I was- the mothball sweater, filthy pants, frizzy hair, bare feet- my back to an ancient and dilapidated French house of mold and rot, my nemesis before me: the washing machine.

Part I
Last time we met, the unilingual unit that Satan must have left as he fled from my coming presence, held my laundry hostage- locked and blinking, ERROR 2.

Part II
Today, I thought I was so smart hooking up the hose to the water tank that stood up the hill and selecting a cotton setting that it was with confidence the door was shut. Then something I couldn't understand appeared which forced me to hike 1 kilometer back to the house to translate it (door open, close door) and try again. Oh, but that wasn't all. Happily, it locked my clothes in and with complete horror I realized no water was gushing in to free my clothes of two weeks (or more in some cases) of sweat and dirt. Disconnecting the hose and turning on the hose valve resulted in black sludge spewing all over my hand. Ferocious was I as I hiked up the hill and climbed onto the water tank only to see... absolutely nothing. The tank was empty except for the remnants where the bit of sludge had rushed out to meet me at the bottom of the hill. Undeterred, Luna (the small dog with growing dreadlocks) and I set out to follow the pipe to it's source hundreds of meters across the mountain of crumbling terraces. There was nothing clogging the filter, and no beaming water pump for me to fiddle with to fill the water tank. There was nothing I could do.

Part III (or a continuation of the prologue)
I'll admit, I let out the most horribly girlish scream I've heard in a long time. So awful was it that I almost didn't hear it at all (the last time this happened I'm told I screamed as my horse-for-the-semester-in-Tanzania "Rafiki" careened down an airstrip at full gallop).

The electricity pierced out of the locking mechanism attached to the washing machine's circuit board and I leapt off the log shaken and furious.

So I did what any independent and tenacious young woman would do after a day full of this: I called my dad. Unfortunately, I was still shaken from being shocked and feeding the cats when I called so he had to try and make out what I was saying amongst my panting, opening the van, shooing the cats, pouring the food, and crinkling the bag.

"Dad, I was trying to manually disengage the- Hey! Get. Out. Of. There! Freia! And then it shocked me and- no, I didn't have shoes on, but I was on a log- well, the machine is outside and is attached to (crinkle, crinkle) get out of there Achilles! Well, I don't know what it's attached to, and it shut down and my laundry is stuck inside and it's getting dark and I have to feed the rabbits and now it's unresponsive and, do you think it's dead? I don't know what to do!...I am looking at the circuit board. You said the circuit board! Well if you meant the fuse box- I don't think there is one. There's just these wires in a pile...oh here they go, I'll follow them. No, I don't have shoes on and the house is far away. I pulled apart the circuit board on the washing machine. Well, hold on, I'll follow all these extension cords until I find an outlet... there's a tan box in the field, it looks like a fuse box! Oh dad, all I wanted was clean clothes today."

Sadly, this is not far from how the conversation progressed. I triumphantly, hesitantly unplugged the fourth and final extension cord at the fuse box, a hundred yards away from the washing machine.

Epilogue (the part where I tell you what I've done since then)
I've accomplished something in life: I cooked rice without the fire alarm going off and the security company calling. A real win in my book, truly. How many women get to stand in front of the alarm code box with headgear for ear protection, timing the 1:06 between each wail of the siren while your mother pours through her file cabinet to find the security code to make the noise stop? Not too many are as handicapped at rice-cooking, or should I saw were handicapped! Not only did it not go off (and not just because this "house" doesn't appear to have one) but I didn't burn the rice while making mashed potatoes.

After all of the washing machine theatrics, I came in to find my fire (the first one I successfully made by the way!) from the morning had nearly gone out, and Ian had returned from his hike up the 4000 Marches in Vallerague, watching yet another movie. "Why don't you go outside and get some potatoes for dinner?" He might as well have said, "make me a sandwich, woman." I told him no, thank you. "No?" He questioned from the floor, as if I were defying his kingly orders. "No." But in an effort for peace, I did make mashed potatoes and coaxed the fire back to life.

My third and final feat of the day: Convincing my Nook to download all of the books I've bought and suddenly feel giddy and delighted because of it (plus, I also have the house to myself!) The best thing in the world is in my imminent future: to climb into my sleeping bag with my Nook and begin reading Alexander McCall Smith's series: "Morality for Beautiful Girls (No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency)," a fictional tale about Botswana's only female private investigator. Or, I could begin "Whatever You Do, Don't Run", an autobiographical compilation of an Australian tour guide in Africa. Or there's "The Brothers Karamazov", by Dostoyevsky or "One Thousand Gifts", by Ann Voskamp or...

2011-11-17T16:28:00.000-05:00

"Ulgh. These aren't coffee beans, they're raisins. Chocolate covered raisins. What kind of sick joke is that?"

Sniffs himself, "Whew! Jeeeez."

"If they don't have good food there, I'll eat a French person. They deserve it, they're so rude here."

A string of Ian's announcements. He has been my sole companion these past 7 weeks. As of next week, I will be accepting sympathy cards in Italy.

A Little Life

2011-11-16T14:36:00.000-05:00

the view from the house we're staying in

four crates of potatoes we dug this morning

making flour packets for beignets de oignons

market at night

I know. They're boring.

We work outside a lot and whether I be in the earth or the flour, my hands are never clean enough to carry a camera so a lot is lost. Also, my brother refuses to be in photos anymore or take any of me so there's not much to see but soil and rotten tomatoes.

This morning was the first morning in three weeks I've woken up to....sunshine! The sun rises late and makes a short walk between the mountains, shortening the days here.

I asked for more toilet paper this evening (after holding it a while!) and was handed a flashlight. "Oh," I said lifting the flashlight from his hand. Paul replied, "We thought we'd make all our WWOOFers read the book How to **** in the Woods". Lovely. I took the flashlight and the van key, in my head thinking, "Agh, Tanzania. This is perfectly fine in Tanzania; not South France. I could be there by tomorrow." All I had to do was dodge the feral cats in the garbage cans and get the toilet paper out of the car, not actually find some leaves and a clear spot in the woods. We've seen badgers on our walk back to our house and I'd rather not meet them under such circumstances.

We ate cold sea snails yesterday for lunch. They look like fancy sea snail shells you'd pull out of a tide pool except they're on your plate waiting to be slurped out with a sharp, two-pronged fork. After thoroughly inspecting them and trying a couple, they suddenly became an abomination in my mouth and nostrils. Add that to the list of things I don't like to eat. #1 pig skin #2 pickled beets in vinegar #3 sea snails. Now you know what I will politely refuse.

P.S. I took my third shower in almost two weeks last night and discovered I am no longer disappointed by what I have to bring to the table of No-Shave-November.

No Shave November! Top 12 Reasons Why NOT To Shave!

2011-11-13T13:07:00.002-05:00

It's No Shave November!

If I could, I would show you how No Shave November has been affecting my legs (and armpits! egad!) but alas, I have thin leg-hair and a despressingly short amount of armpit hair. I had to go look for a few extra reasons why women shouldn't shave their legs to broaden my knowledge. I stole several from one source. No shame.

#1. It wastes water. British women apparently use 50 billion litres a year.
#2. Ingrown hairs. It's unnatural for your leg hairs to be swiped off.
#3. It turns men off ("As they teach in the women's groups, rape can be prevented IF you are prepared. So the next time the guy in the shiny metallic short sleeve shirt starts eye balling you at your local club hot spot, just hike up your leg on the bar and give him a taste of his own medicine. Hair medicine that is. But really, what guy is going to rape you if you have more hair on your legs than he does?")
#4. It can cause drastic changes in existing relationships with men. ("Nothing will usher in an exciting night like your boyfriend thinking he's petting your dog, only to find out that it is your knee cap." Another excellent point.)
#5. It saves boatloads of money. (If you're savvy and buy 8 razor heads at a time, it only costs $19.87 at Walmart instead of $21.94. Or, you could save all that money for something useful and beneficial. Like a book.)
#6. It's liberating. Why not go without shaving just to watch the reactions of women? Especially older women. It's a double whammy sometimes because A) you have no stockings on B) Your legs are wildly hairy
#7. Discover where the hair actually does grow on your legs. In case you do shave again, you know what areas you need not waste blade sharpness on. Like the backs of my knees and flabby calf muscles. I don't need to shave there.
#8. It's an act of cultural defiance. Be more original than wearing black clothes, no clothes, etc.
#9. It's an easy way to make conversation and friends with a feminist. As an efflorescing, hopeful photojournalist, I'm all about finding ways to connect with people.
#10. Just because you can.
#11. Shaving when it's cold causes gooseflesh and shaving with gooseflesh leads to shaving off a little bit of skin with every follicle. It's terribly irritating!
#12. Your legs will never know such bliss as the day you do shave again. Because sometimes, it just feels nice and you can always grow it out again!

If you think just taking a shower is nice, try this! Step 1: let your leg hair grow out; Step 2: break down and buy a new razor; Step 3: Put a saweet playlist on that includes "Hey Soul Sister" by Train; Step 4: turn off the lights in the bathroom. I'm not responsible if you don't have a firm enough grasp on your bathroom layout and you end up in the toilet or on the floor; Step 5: Use hot water and I'd recommend bracing yourself for Walmart beforehand and buying Organix's Passionfruit Guava shampoo); Step 6: SING AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS WITH PATRICK MONAHAN (Train vocals) and shave to your heart's content. Be warned, the hair builds up rather quickly and must be rinsed often. The last time I performed a Great Shave, I had hairy knees at a wedding. Good luck!

The End

Montpellier & Market

2011-11-12T11:47:00.000-05:00

Chateau d'eau de Peyrou, Montpellier, France

my tour guide Miriam at one of the oldest medical schools in Montpellier, France

from inside shop Bienvenue la Ferme, Montpellier, France

WWOOF house

French market

trompe l'oeil- only 3 real windows and one door, Montpellier, France

On Wednesday we went to Elizabeth's shop in Montpellier. I'd only been cleaning the pumpkins for a few minutes when yet another old lady began speaking to me in French. After shaking my head and mumbling something about English she said, "Oh! English?" And said hello to me and asked where I was from in pretty good English. She wished me the best on her way out and later Elizabeth received a phone call asking if I'd like to go on a tour of Montpellier. So a few hours later she came for me and I breathlessly followed her as she rather quickly walked all over and told me about statues, gingko trees after Hiroshima, Saint Roch and his dog, and pointed out examples of trompe l'oeil. We didn't even introduce ourselves until our walk was nearly over.

Yesterday, we woke up at 5:45AM to head off to a town to cook oignons beignets at a market all day. They were rather tasty little things. I was chastised for taking a picture of an Afghan lady (who didn't look Afghan and spoke fluent French), quickly learned to count back change for the first time in my life (any sort of math and I are eternal enemies!), had a fresh chataigne et chocolat crepes, ate roasted chestnuts (chataignes) and improved on my French. Then again, anything more than knowing oui and Of course, for some reason I was the one speaking with customers most, second to Elizabeth, and I speak no French. Actually, I spoke no French. Nothing like trial by fire for language learning. The thing that stuck the most was something like "safi cinq" and only because the safi sounded just like the safi in Swahili.

I have a new appreciation for people who work at markets and apparently this was an easy one! Fourteen hours of work and it's an easy one for them!

Marseille

2011-11-08T16:59:00.000-05:00

We went to Marseille. The setting of one of my favourite books and movie, The Count of Monte Cristo. It poured and poured so we spent a lot of time at the bus stop and looked at Chateau d'If on a map, wistfully.

Life in La Clede

2011-11-07T12:52:00.002-05:00

Toulouse- Montpellier

we stay in the house on the right

You know that song by Ingrid Michaelson, "You and I"? Oh, let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France..." Maybe let's buy them a summer home here, if we ever get rich and if Ian and I ever agree on anything again.

We arrived Thursday night by train to Montpellier and took a bus ride into the mountains of Pont d'Herault. Thankfully the bus driver alerted us that we had arrived because Ian was paying no attention, as usual, and I was shooting video of the record-breaking rainfall outside, as usual.

Due to the unbelievable amount of rain that fell, we were trapped inside making pumpkin soup, bagging flour for a special onion mix, and the like. The first night we slept in a honest to goodness Mongolian yurt that had been assembled, where else, but upstairs in the main house. Lest we be washed away on the street or the house slide off the mountain in a landslide, we didn't venture out much.

We are however now staying about 1km up the road, up a small hill, in the future house of our host family. They're living in a small, old house down the road while they fix up the place we're staying in. It will be so beautiful when it's finished!

Yesterday we cleared a tomato field, today I planted leeks with Elizabeth. The cat Freia and I are best friends now. While I was planting and singing along to myself, she hopped on my back (which I thought yesterday was an act of hostility for ceasing to pet her!) and rubbed her face against mine. She's lucky to be on this side of the river because...

There was this strange lady who lived across the street with twenty cats that became thirty cats and then one day they bought a single bag of cat food and left. The cats have obviously run out of food and are starving so they ventured into the road and today alone two were hit. When Paul came in he told us several of the cats had dragged a body into the shed and were eating it. He threw it over the bridge. Not long after, Elizabeth and I came down from picking leeks and found one of the cats had been hit but was still breathing and clearly in a lot of pain. When we came back with a pitchfork, one of the cats was already making a move to drag it off.

I feel really bad for the cats but Paul and Elizabeth certainly can't take on feeding them all. Like a champ, Elizabeth hit the cat on the head a few times to kill it before tossing it into the river. At first, she didn't want me to watch (or was relieving me of the task) but my feeling on these things is that it has to be done regardless and someday it may fall upon me to kill the cat, or whatever. I might as well try to learn from it.

It's really impressive how self-sufficient they are here. We use "dry" toilets, which is gross to explain for most people so look it up if you must know; drink filtered water from the mountain, wash clothes in washing machine that I suppose you could say is hooked to the mountain instead of the water line, compost, recycle, and turn off all of the lights when we leave. We also discovered their daughter Jesse was named for the same reason I was and she loves reading. How could you not?

I got my hands dirty today, woke up to the sun shining over the mountains, and did not fall in the dry toilet again this morning. I've decided I prefer living near mountains but not in them- you can't see the sun rise or set on the horizon and it's not warm enough up here. Everyone thinks I mis-convert my celsius to fahrenheit when I tell them my favourite temperatures coupled with the fact I love humidity.

Elizabeth is such an excellent cook. Every meal is scrumptious. More to come! When we have internet.

Life in a Bag

2011-11-02T17:15:00.001-04:00

I've been saving this post for a dull day and save from the abhorrently vile, unidentifiable smoked fish I found in my exorbitantly over-priced caesar salad, there wasn't any excitement. FYI, tomorrow we go to Montpellier to meet Elizabeth, one of the members of our WWOOF family! We'll be there for 3 weeks at which time we'll make our way to Cortona, Italy for the end of the olive harvest.

For your entertainment and education, this is what I've packed:

contents of Osprey bag

contents of camera bag

To be perfectly honest, hauling 60 lbs/27 kg of gear around is not something I will ever repeat. How photojournalists do this professionally is completely a mystery to me. For the first few weeks I couldn't figure out why Ian had packed so much more efficiently than I had. Then I realized I packed for living in the bush, not multilingual, older versions of Rochester and New York City.

And so, baring my soul...

THE ULTIMATE PACKING LIST

GENERAL ITEMS

sleeping bag

water bottle

sunglasses

pocket knife/leatherman/swiss army

small backpack

large pack

pack cover

laundry bag (invest in a good one!)

frisbee

DOCUMENTATION

passport

visa (if needed)

student ID

driver's license

credit card

immunization records

yellow fever card (not on immunization record)

airline tickets

e-mail/fax/letter stating VISA will be available upon arrival if not sent before

airline frequent travel cards/numbers

telephone and addresses at destinations

medical insurance cards

credit card phone # (in case of theft)

*copies of all identification: passport, medical insurance card, insurance card, driver's license, immunization records, etc.

MISC.

Bible

a book or two (in addition to the nook...)

pen and pencils

journal/notebook

wallet

change purse

addresses for letters

maps

photos of family (digital or printed)

playing cards (not necessary)

plastic garbage bags (can double as cheap pack-covers)

business cards

watch+ alarm

spork (invaluable in any environment!)

sewing kit (I also recommend bringing someone who knows how to sew)

ziploc bags

sink stopper

laundry soap

laundry line/paracord

matches

sunglasses

ELECTRONICS

flashlight

extra batteries for flashlight

outlet adapters

CELLPHONE

Blackberry + charger

nook

nook

charger (wall plug + cable)

ipod

ipod

charging cord

headphone splitter

headphones

CAMERA

28-75mm lens

2 batteries

lens cleaner

UV filter

polarizing filter

2 hard drives

card reader

CF & SD card case

tripod

LAPTOP

mac + charger

HYGIENE

hand/face wipes

shampoo

conditioner

bar of soap

hairbrush/comb

deodorant

nail clippers

razor (unless you're just going for No-Shave-November or trying the No-Shave-Africa route)

razor blades

toothbrush

toothpaste

floss

towels (hair and body)

washcloth

chap stick (go for Carmex)

make-up case: including tweezers to keep away the unibrow, some tan powder, pieces of an eye-lash brush, bobby-pins, and mascara (shameful! shameful! I have a (not unwarranted) fear of being invited to a nice event and having to show up in jeans with unbrushed hair so I thought I'd be ready).

MEDICAL

vitamins

malaria pills

steripen (Ian's insistence)

small first aid kit

CLOTHES

rain coat

fleece jacket

gloves

under armor/long underwear

hat for warmth

belt (in case of internal encounters with pathogenic microorganisms)

hoodie/sweatshirt

sweat pants (I only wish I'd packed them on other trips! Worth the space.)

6 shirts (button-downs are ideal)

4-6 t-shirts

2 skirts/dresses

2 pairs long trousers/jeans

1 pair of shorts

spandex shorts

underwear for a week+

socks- tall and short

shoes- sandals, black flats, hiking boots and running shoes (but if you'll be in a warm area then run barefoot)

swim suit (though a sports bra and shorts can suffice)

Coward.

2011-10-31T19:43:00.000-04:00

Inside Notre Dame cathedral, covered in dust and years of grime and oil, is a small tin box set into a pillar that reads, "For the Poor". It is very easy to miss as it is far out of sight of any glory to behold within the church itself and certainly out of view from the arrays of candles that tourists can pay 2 euros for to light and say a prayer.

I'll be honest, I definitely took advantage of the copious amounts of tourists taking photos and joined their ranks inside the church. And I also took this photograph outside.

As the woman sat down by the pillar, I watched the line immediately begin to shift away from her. So greatly did they move away that she moved to the next pillar and they again began to move away.

I didn't even notice the little boy until I was going through the photos later. What will his parents explain away about the woman? That she's probably just going to use it for drugs or alcohol. She isn't that poor. Someone else will stop and help her.

Who?

Men sleeping on benches in the church garden, clutching newspaper to their face in subways. Young women with imploring signs, old women outside the church gates.

The poor you will always have with you... If that is the case, does that mean nothing can or should done to try and alleviate the problem? Though my parents brought me up to believe many good things and instilled quality morals and values in me, I remember the day I first saw a homeless person. At the time, I was about five and we were going up into the "dangerous part of the big city" (three blocks from my house last year) and there was a man with a typical sign. The impression I recall receiving when I asked about helping him was that we didn't do that sort of thing because he would likely buy alcohol or drugs with the money. Though I was often in trouble as a kid and usually thought my parents were wrong, I remember that as the first time I thought they really weren't right and that someday, I would do something different.

And the day before I left, only a few streets away from that very corner, a friend and I were asked by two men if we had any change. We didn't give them anything but the young guy truly thanked us anyway. One of the men appeared to have something wrong with one of his eyes- a trait I had often searched for in the homeless men of Rochester as he and my dad were once friends. We turned them away when we had enough money in our pockets for some dinner for those guys. If he was the man my dad knew, that man also has a daughter around my age. We forget the homeless have families, had friends and a life before homelessness. If they are on the streets, we blame them. We are unforgiving and unkind towards broken hearts and trampled lives. We are unkind, impatient, rude, selfish, seeking wrong in their lives to validate our lack of generosity and we have no hope for them. Few love the homeless. Many of them bled in wars for us as sons today now bleed overseas.

I read Radical, by David Platt and have begun The Hole in Our Gospel, by Richard Stearns and found the quote below within its pages.

Maybe some people do deserve the life they have, but after several years of beginning to search out the answer, "what if we're wrong?" I've found this is not often the case and when it isn't, it's in a terrible way.

Even attending church my whole life, I feel in many ways the true teachings of Jesus were taught out of me in one way or another. So in my heart, for years I've always felt in the deep spots of my heart that the untouchables in our societies should not be kept at arms length and in our blindspots. I ignored those thoughts.

To know what is right and not to do it is the worst cowardice.

- Confucius

Paris

2011-10-31T19:03:00.000-04:00

The Winged Victory of Samothrace

Notre Dame

outside Notre Dame

Shakespeare & Company

Today as our train pulled away from Paris we breathed a sigh of...relief. Neither Ian nor myself enjoyed Paris. It was brimming with tourists, laid to waste with garbage, and so much like every other city we've been to it wasn't worth it.

Okay, the Louvre was worth it. We had the chance to see paintings by Monet, Degas, Delacroix, DaVinci, Poucher, Duhrer, Zubraran, Caravaggio, and sculptures by Michaelangelo.

Now, we're in Toulouse and Ian's teasing me I can't enjoy the red lava lamp in our red and white room because we have our own room over a week (discounting the one night return to London) and separate sleeping areas within. The door to our private porch, that houses mini-golf grass and a little red table set, is open wide in November. Hello delight! Everyone at home in New York is trying to evade the snow.

The downside to France is everything closes early so there's no food available. We haven't eaten in about twelve hours and are really missing Wegmans right now. For those of you who know, this goes without saying when you travel. Travel = missing Wegmans.

Spilled Yogurt, Hanky-Panky in the Hostel, & Soup for Dinner

2011-10-21T10:38:00.004-04:00

If I go running will the girl in our dorm at the hostel, who we saw half-naked with her boyfriend in bed last night (and glared at me this morning), steal my stuff?

Is eating spilled yogurt off a table clothe and your clothes kosher anywhere?

Would the Italian tough guy who sings along with the song "Jar of Hearts" think I'm hitting on him if I ask him to teach me to roll cigarrettes?

Is there anything to do in Bristol besides listen to police sirens and a French girl named Bernadette talk in her sleep?

Does Starbucks have a club I can join? How long until they find me in the corner soaking up their electricity and wifi?

Why do so many people ask me for directions?

When will sneakers and jeans be in? I've been ready my whole life.

Will I slowly freeze to death as I sleep in an old VW van on a French farm only accessibly by a walking bridge?

Why is it that only men have nose piercings here?

What am I doing on this trip?
An image of the soup display at M&S yesterday comes into my mind.
Soup. Can I afford soup for dinner? Can I find soup? Will grilled cheese with soup really be that fattening? Nah. Why do I always starting thinking about food? Grilled cheese is totally not conducive for weight loss. If only that girl wouldn't steal my stuff if I went running to counter-act the fat in the cheese. Why is everything creamier here? Haven't I anything better to do than think about this? I need to go do something.

All that and more.

Sometimes I wonder what happened to the multitude of different mentalities I had when I was sixteen or seventeen. Spending cash was a big deal. Having a credit card was unfathomable. Talking to strangers caused severe anxiety. Tripping, bumping into things, and thinking a place was closed because I pulled a push door all caused great embarrassment. Disney, the Spice Girls, and others were shameful to even be known to listen to. Children were an abomination. Cute, but like men, better kept at a distance.

Now, shoot, I need to learn the art of budgeting. Talking to strangers is a regular occurrence. Even though I trip and bump into things more than ever, I'm learning lots of people make the door mistake. (So many at this Starbucks in fact, that every three people give me great entertainment and comfort.) Ian gets annoyed by how regularly I break into what I consider to be more than moment-appropriate songs such as, "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" and "You Take the High Road, and I'll Take the Low Road". I actually engage kids if they stare at me long enough and am tempted to borrow them from their parents. Men, are still better at a distance. Most of them anyway.

Supposedly, travelling and navigating new places and cultures is supposed to be a plastic, neuron- increasing exercise for our brains. I suppose that's what Millay meant when she said she'd come back taller. One can only hope I'd get taller!

Travel plans update: After we leave Bristol next Thursday, we're heading to South France to begin WWOOFing. Through an entirely coincidental series of circumstances, the family we're staying with has a 22 year old daughter named Jesse who's living in Africa. Not Jessie, but Jesse. They named her that for the same reason my parents named me: simplicity. Boy or girl, they were set.

But hey, if you don't believe God's interested in us as individuals... I'm always down for a little debating.

British Museum

2011-10-19T12:27:00.001-04:00

All of the large museums in London are free so I went to the Natural History Museum and the British Museum. Today (or maybe every day) was school tour day at both museums. I wish we'd had the Rosetta Stone included in our school tours- when they actually took us on them.

Epiphanies:

- If I ever live in South America, I hope a maned wolf decides to live with me.

- Cleopatra was shockingly short, judging by her cover.

Tower of London

2011-10-19T12:22:00.000-04:00

Fateful Skirt Day & Other Adventures

2011-10-17T11:44:00.004-04:00

Someday, I hope to grow up and be successful. By successful I mean skirting a desk job. Ideally, in the skinny ring of 30 latitudinal degrees around the equator.

I also will be rich. Really rich. Mangos for breakfast, PB&J for lunch, liche for a snack, spaghetti or fresh thai vegetable rolls for dinner, and mango and sticky rice for dessert every night kind of rich.

All of my clothes will fit into a suitcase (as I will own no cold weather clothes), have mastered the art of international calls (as well as the art of conveniently misplacing my phone as an act of deviance), and accept that my hair will be very dirty quite often. Showers will fall under the definition of indulgence in my personal dictionary (oh wait, they already are!).

Things on my bucket list will be crossed off such as:
- own a dirt bike
- see U2 live
- sneak up on a fainting goat
- ride a camel
- get a prison tattoo (fear not relatives, this does not necessarily entail getting arrested)
- ride something across Africa
- read Brothers Karamazov
- learn to play the violin, djembe, piano, and cello
- learn the tango
- see Christ the Redeemer statue
- go to the Amazon River
- climb Kilimanjaro

I used to think lists like this were dumb because the actual event could be so anticlimactic and disappointing but then as I lived life in between checking a few things off, I realized it just gives you a goal along the journey. Plus, if your expectations are low, you'll probably be tickled pink to get to check something off your list. These things are always best with other people.

Today, however, my indulgence was peanut butter on a baby spoon. We have one jar of Wegmans Organic Crunchy Peanut Butter and I will lick it clean after it's been carefully scraped. Ian is a total food nazi and vehemently glares around my hostage Nook every time I sheepishly return the jar to his area of the room. Actually, Ian left this morning and so in a moment of weakness, I ate the Cadbury bar I bought for him. Fear not, I intend to brave the grocery store again to buy more food. We have half a refrigerator full of eggs (not all are ours), half an onion, some spinach, mushrooms, Wheatabix, and garlic powder. I'm thinking omlets for dinner.

Last grocery trip was unnerving. Usually I thrive in nightlife and culturally diverse environments. That time, I was already on edge from arguing with Ian and walking all day but became flustered when coconut yoghurt and garlic were no where to be found. To make matters worse, it appeared that everything on the shelves had been opened and raided.

We've only been gone about three weeks.

I'm ready to be done sightseeing which Ian doesn't understand either. This is his big trip to explore which I can be a total buzz kill about. As he's dwarfed by the doors of these ancient buildings and contemplating how men could make such an edifice, I'll be sitting in on the traffic wall testing fate and watching the old couple make out while their kids take a picture. Sweet memories.

Yesterday Ian opted to stay home so I returned to the Camden Town markets in search of the hoodie Ian despised and talked me out of buying. Shopping is so objectionable to me in most cases that I avoid doing it with other people for all of our sakes. But on this day I was quickly reminded how handy men can be for a couple instances where having a boyfriend to grab would have had immense advantages and provided some entertainment. All due to the skirt Michelle gave me...

Cheapside Protest

2011-10-15T16:53:00.000-04:00

Favourite; the die-hards who were paying no attention to the bus.

Ian and I got off in Bank today and found ourselves wandering around the ghostly quiet business district for a couple of hours before we toddled into the Museum of London. We also found this rather boring (except there was a UK photo editors' choice awards which was the best part).

Then we turned the corner in Cheapside and saw all of these people piled into the corner with picket signs. Naturally, I gravitated into the throng of people and Ian patiently followed.

The protest was really lame and ill planned for the most part. Everyone not involved in actually protesting was either unable to escape the police blockade, taking pictures, or just along for the ride and commenting on how pointless it seemed. It got a little more interesting when the protestors milled into the street and sat down shouting. The only serious talk that was going on was people being interviewed by individual journalists. "Job cuts as a result of the recession," says Ian, is what the demonstration was about. However, the only excitement was when the buses were stopped because of the protestors and back-up police slipped in to shoo everyone off of the street.

All but a core group of approximately six guys seemed relatively impassioned and uncommitted to the whole thing. There were a lot of legit cameras. After the police moved everyone onto the sidewalk and got the buses moving again the crowd dispersed almost immediately. The police officer in front of Ian seemed chill enough so I asked him directions to South Bankside. He very nicely gave these to us as if he were a traffic guard and not a man with a nightstick and helmet strapped to his belt.

For your entertainment, here's Ian in the fray:

2011-10-14T16:30:00.001-04:00

Flight from Belfast to London

Victoria Tower Gardens, London

Twice now I've re-written our day's expedition. It's not in me to do it again.

Fare Thee Well Ireland

2011-10-14T05:23:00.000-04:00

our cousin Heather at Portrush Golf course, 11 October 2011

Ian in Glenariff Park, N. Ireland, 12 October 2011

While I'm waiting for Ian to wake up from his beauty sleep, I thought I'd take a break from planning our attack on London to post.

We left Belfast yesterday afternoon and arrived in London last night. Miraculously, we did not get lost with the help of the friendly ticket counter workers and my friend's marvelous directions.

Personally, I'd rather hit London in a couple of days and move on but Ian goes at a slower pace than I do. We're both having to make a lot of compromises on this trip- not negative ones, but compromises nonetheless.

In other news, to my inexhaustible delight, there's wifi at the place we're staying which means my Nook downloaded Katie Davis' book!

Heart to Heart

2011-10-11T20:50:00.001-04:00

http://kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com/

Sokoya, I said looking through
the net of wrinkles into
wise black pools
of her eyes.
What do you say in Athabascan
when you leave each other?
What is the word
for goodbye?
A shade of feeling rippled
the wind- tanned skin,
Ah, nothing, she said,
watching the river flash.
She looked at me close.
We just say Tlaa. That means,
See you.
We never leave each other.
When does your mouth
say goodbye to your heart?
She touched me light
as a bluebell.
You forget when you leave us;
you're so small then.
We don't use that word.
We always think you're coming back,
but if you don't
we'll see you someplace else.
You understand.
There is no word for goodbye.

- Mary TallMountain

Rain taps the windows and splashes onto worn concrete on the other side of the door. Heat puurs from the ancient kitchen stove.

Thousands of miles away and a mere two hours ahead of N. Ireland time, Katie's family is asleep. Friends closer than family are hours behind with a group of Tanzanian Maasai touring Canada and the US to raise money for schooling that will save their culture.

Even in the cold, I can feel the gold of the heat. The sun I haven't seen in weeks, it can beat down on my face in the darkest of rainy nights. This winter will be three years since I stepped into the heady, black enveloping heat with half a plane full of strangers my age. None of us knew what we would encounter, how we could make each other laugh. I don't think any of us expected how those three months by the Little Ruaha River would weave our lives together and cause some of us to surrender our hearts to the depths of the "dark continent". It is one year, two months, and ten days since I flew above the purple-fuschia clouds bathing in at the morning gold at feet of Kilimanjaro- tears spilling freely.

I think there are some people in this world whom you may never meet in this life because we all have our own work to do and it wouldn't be practical for the same hearts and purposes to be fulfilled in the same place so God spreads us out. Like the crunchy spots in crunchy peanut butter (which is far superior to smooth, by the way), it's better for the crunch to be all over for a great PB&J.

Though I may never meet Katie, my own heart sings for the life lived by example. Whether or not you believe in God (or do but don't know Him), you have to admit, she's living what the Bible says and what she believes. She might seem arrogant, but certainty is often mistaken for arrogance.

Dublin: An Unexpected Tale

2011-10-10T19:47:00.003-04:00

The only quiet baby and a sweet dad loving on him or her. Not a fan of the picture but the moment was nice.

boom, baby!

Ian never thought we'd find one and I'd do it. "One" being a tattoo and piercing parlor and "it" being getting my nose pierced.

We were gone almost fifteen hours for 2.5 hours spent in Dublin. First, the ticket man did not open the counter until four minutes before our first train left. Then in Belfast, we assumed that when the train time says 10:35AM, that meant the train comes in at that time and you get on. So we waited for this train to leave so ours could come in but unfortunately moments after that one pulled away we were told that had been our train. So we waited for the next train. Then the train in front of us broke down so we didn't get into Dublin until 4PM, just in time for us to catch the train we'd planned to take back to Ballymena. We decided to run around Dublin for a few hours, find food, and make frantic phone calls to tell our relatives we'd be back later.

It really was a smashing success. We even stumbled into Trinity College where something like an Irish version of High School Musical was being filmed on some steps. As we walked ourselves around in search of a great Irish marvel (and a tattoo & piercing parlor) Ian tried to choose whether he'd get his ears pierced or his lip pierced while directing us after none other than, (as I quickly discerned when he said, "she's getting away!") a pretty lady. Typical.

Like I said, Ian didn't expect I'd find a place but a very handsomely tattooed Irishman informed us Connected Ink's other parlor had the piercing man for day so we trotted down the lane, over the white bridge that crossed a river, and through a tunnel to find their other location. Ironically enough, the guy who pierced it was from California.

Everyone said it wasn't painful, and the actual piercing wasn't too terrible I thought, but my eyes watered and ran on their own today and then he pulled the needle through and I gasped how much worse it was than my tattoo before launching into questioning him about his life to distract myself and maintain any dignity I had left. He was nonplussed but very nice. A blood vessel in my nose broke. Ian encouraged me by telling me it looked mangled and awful and asking if it hurt as we walked down the street. Needless to say, I was the only one to get a piercing today.

On the way back, we barely caught the train to Belfast and when we did it got held up again for a wee while. Every train trip I've been on (which now amounts to three) has been stopped. I'm not a fan. Not a fan.

Loving my nose ring though! Still on the prowl for a decent pair of black boots. I've been searching for five years. It's high time I found some.

The 11 Days... and a Cattle Market

2011-10-08T20:15:00.001-04:00

This is the best I got with a cow in it. I was going for the deep scar behind the man's ear and the long hair I assume is his wife's that is on his jacket.

A majority of the farmers are older men. Fewer young men are working on the farms so this little man stuck out to represent the percentage of the next farming generation.

I'm going to go in order of what we've done without explaining days to catch you up to speed.

After the flight to Philly, the plane ride went down hill. I felt woozy for the flight to London so was asleep most of the time except when Ian was waking me up because he couldn't sleep. This is understandable because there was a baby in the row behind us shrieking for several hours. What little travel I've done has allowed me to adapt to sleeping most anywhere at any time. Ian's on a crash course to learn this skill.

When we arrived, we began milking cows with Bertie. It was on my summer bucket list to learn. However, there is no hay, clean cows, red bucket, or 101 dalmatian puppies involved. The next day we left with our third cousin Heather to go to a church youth retreat in Portadowns where we went to a social (a non-raunchy dance in town we should adopt in the States), rode a banana boat in the freezing rain, went "snow tubing" on plastic and wire mesh instead of snow, tried Irish stew, found out no one in N. Ireland listens to Irish music like Flogging Molly (Ian can't find anyone who's heard of them), and I was asked if I was South African again. I would also like to mention that in the freezing temperatures we had to wear wetsuits, a jacket, life-vest, sneakers/water shoes, and a helmet. Then the man in charge asked if we'd like to jump off the pier to get wet. I vehemently shook my head and even though he was looking right at me he said, "All right everybody, off you go!" And everyone ran off the end to their extinction like dodo birds. They said it wasn't that cold. They were not being honest.

Other highlights include the Giant's Causeway and rope bridge. It was beautiful and we were on the coast! I hadn't seen the sea since Zanzibar in 2010.

Somewhere in here we also spend half a day helping with the sheep (Ian was helping more than I who was taking the photos you saw in a previous post). Our relatives have four sheep dogs; Lucy, Barney, Zack and Ned. Poor Ned is a mix from the dog next door and apparently can't herd sheep.

I went running one day and it was worth mentioning. 14:52 minutes of miserable running worth mentioning solely because no one goes jogging. I'm guessing this is because most people have farms and work all day so they don't need the exercise like us in the gray, windowless rooms of RIT.

Wednesday we went to Glenarm on the coast to meet our grandma's cousins Jeanne and William. They ran the Glenarm post office for fifty years or so and there was even photos of when Prince Charles and Camilla Parker Bowles came recently to visit the post office before it closed. We got a small tour of the village our great-great grandparents emigrated from in the late 1800's as well as the grounds of Glenarm Castle. The nice groundskeeper who now lives in our ancestor's house let us walk around the grounds inside the gate even though it's closed to the public! It was pretty cool. Apparently one of our ancestors worked as a butler for Queen Victoria who used to go to the castle. They moved over from England with them which makes us more English than we've told everyone all our lives. We're Irish, German, English, and Scottish. But somehow I've never been asked if I am any of those- only South African. I do not understand. To be honest, I'm secretly pleased though I'm sure South Africans wouldn't agree.

We went to Belfast a few days ago with our cousin and her friend Jenny. All my life I've searched for the clothes this part of the world has to offer. Usually, I abhor shopping. Last time I went, it took me three hours and one return of the same pair of sweatpants I ended up buying anyways to escape the mall. I actually wanted to shop!

Yesterday, we went to a cattle market with Bertie early in the afternoon. I don't think it's too different than the ones in New York. By the way, everyone assumes we're from the city when we say New York. I'd forgotten the rest of the state doesn't exist to the rest of the world.

We also went to Belfast again with our other cousin and her husband to attend our first rugby game. Ulster lost so we woke up at 6AM to watch Ireland get creamed by Wales. Fail. We had a lot of fun with Emma and Philip though. Ian was elated beyond explaining that they both had not only heard of the movie Anchorman but loved it and Will Ferrell. They took us out after the game for coffee and buns. I tried "banoffee" which is a thin pie with a layer of crust, caramel, banana, and toffee. It's all soft though and wicked tasty with coffee.

It rains here. Off and on. Everyday. Today I actually barely noticed when we were out with the sheep. It's not as depressing as it was when we got here and I actually am enjoying how green everything is. It's like swimming under water where everything has a thin layer of algae on it except you're walking around and breathing. The sun comes out about once a day. We've seen a rainbow everyday for the last four days straight.

Ian is tired all the time. He doesn't travel very well since he can't sleep en-route and doesn't adjust to change easily. He also came with a wicked case of poison ivy so it's really good the nasty UK immigration woman didn't pull us aside for a close look. She just berated us.

Food. I just couldn't stop thinking about it. (If you don't instantly think of a dog, YouTube "ultimate dog teaser"). Everyone always asks what travelers have eaten. We've had pizza, casserole, potatoes, more fish & chips than we've ever had (so, so good), cereal, the "Ulster full fry" which consists of sausage, bacon, eggs, half a pancake, soda bread, potato bread, tomato, and mushrooms. No syrup. Tonight, to my great delight, we're having spaghetti and meatballs!

For those of you who've waded through all of this, congratulations. A little glimpse into the woes of traveling: constipation. Ian has only been drinking boiled water because the man at Passport Health told him he could get travelers diarrhea. I've had glasses and glasses everyday and have no such issues. I even tried a beet dipped in vinegar one night hoping it was fibrous but I barely made it through. It was the most awful thing I've ever eaten. Friends and family, you know it's bad when I want to spit it out. Licking the cucumber in Maasailand is now second.

Our family has been so hospitable to us! Ian and I are talking about how nice they've been showing us around, making sure we have food and clean clothes. They've also been patient when we really struggled to understand their accents the first few days. It would be impossible for us to repay them for their hospitality and generosity.

Sheep Wrangling

2011-10-06T19:46:00.001-04:00

A few days ago we went out with Bertie Kidd, a relative of ours, to help him vaccinate his sheep. The morning light was like Rochester's- shadowless and gray. However, the sun broke out as we climbed a mountain to retrieve more sheep (with real sheep dogs) to vaccinate. I helped at first with weighing them but my brother Ian helped catch the sheep and separate them while I took pictures.

Bertie has lived on this farm all of his life. He has over seventy sheep that we've seen and twenty or so dairy cows. Some of the sheep are lambs and are too young for the rams to mate with so Bertie separated the rams out to a different pasture.

I have to be honest, I'm completely overwhelmed at the thought of trying to catch up on everything we've been doing so I'm just going to post here and there to explain.

We also milked cows on our first day which was far messier than I'd imagined. For some reason I had hay, a red bucket and 101 dalmatian puppies running around in a milking scenario. Not so. Vaccinating sheep wasn't much cleaner but riding in the trailer back and forth to the farm was fun. I don't think the sheep appreciated our company though!

I apologize for the lack of verbal variety! If I get a chance tomorrow I'll whip up something a little more explanatory and pleasant to read than this.

The Irish

2011-10-06T18:51:00.000-04:00

Glenarm, Ballymena, N. Ireland

Giants Causeway, N. Ireland

First night in Killycarn, 29 September, 2011

Look at all the little people! I'm not sure what's gotten into me.

Buffalo to Philly

2011-09-28T21:05:00.000-04:00

After feverishly scarfing down a sweet potato burger, peach pie, and something else so memorable I can't even remember what it was, we made it to the Buffalo airport. Ian had to finish Return of the King so we stood outside security as he read the last ten pages. His hesitation to cross into security could also be due to what he had stashed in his carry-on.
Naturally, I turned around to find Ian standing beside one of those interior design catastrophes- a short metal table with a blue-clad security man pulling everything out of his bag. Ian turned to me and maybe cursed a little. The nice man said he was going to screen the bag again which could only mean they'd found something but didn't know what it was.

"Knives," Ian hissed to me. "I wasn't thinking."

It wasn't knives alone he had sequestered in his innocuous looking pencil case.The security man came back and told him he couldn't bring his two knives and, "pepper spray, this can't go either". Surprisingly, they realized Ian was maybe a little overwhelmed and underprepared so they took him to the counter, scanned his contraband and were very willing to return the knives to our parents who were still waving back at me saying goodbye. They let us go! Ian was disappointed about his knives.

When we sat down we checked our boarding passes and I told him I had the window seat because I had seat F and F is often a window seat on domestic flights. "Oh, no you don't. E comes after F."

We've made it to Philly and he's choking down yellow, greasy food he wished he hadn't bought but refuses to prove my mom right by throwing away food due to his picky palate. Wish us luck!

Quince Picking

2011-09-26T13:09:00.000-04:00

This morning my mom and I went out early to pick quince at our secret spot. Did you know Wegmans sells quince in the exotic fruit area? Outrageous. They're local, though unusual, fruit. Quince are shaped similarly to apples but have have a denser texture and are rather sour. A fine fuzz covers the yellow-green flesh that smells...quincy.

In more travel-related news, I've been avoiding Walmart like the plague and have things on the floor to take but that's about it.

2011-09-18T18:53:00.000-04:00

August

Livonia, NY

100

2011-09-18T00:32:00.001-04:00

In honour of the one hundredth post, I did a little remodeling!

Today marks the ten day countdown to September 28 when my nineteen year old brother Ian and I will fly to Europe to commence our trip to Ireland, England, France, Switzerland, Spain, Italy, Morocco, Egypt and New Zealand.

It will span eight months.

Instead of starting a new blog for the trip, this one will be my pride and joy as I chronicle our travels for friends, family and anyone else stopping by to subject themselves to the mercy of my unbearably witty sarcasm.

Thunder Storm Video

2011-08-15T13:16:00.002-04:00

Last night I took a Benadryl and asked my mom to drive since I was so woozy from the meds and a mysterious swelling in my eye which could be an infection. Best decision I've made on Benadryl! I recorded the ride home and we stopped at the top of the hill near our house to watch the storm move over Bloomfield and Canandaigua. Nothing was repeated and almost all of the flashes are in chronological order. I just cut out the black space in between.

It's much better full screen and in the dark since the lightning can be dim so view full screen at night for best viewing!

To: Indiana, From: Africa with Love

2011-08-12T11:01:00.000-04:00

Last weekend I had the great pleasure of driving to Indiana to see Felis and Lis become Mr. & Mrs. Mubibya. Last summer I was still living in Tengeru at Pamoja Ministries where Lis has been a missionary for a couple of years. She met Felis through the Sowers Group, of which he is the drummer, and voila now they are married!

There were three of us four roommates from last summer plus two other friends from Pamoja. There were Americans, Canadians, Tanzanians, Congolese, Kenyans, and so on. Felis is Congolese himself. It was a beautiful wedding- Felis even taught some of us a Congolese dance!

I liked this little sequence of photos :)

Win for Film!

2011-07-27T17:31:00.002-04:00

possible light leak

Aunt Jen and Grandpa Hans

Sam, my almost cousin

My heart, I mean giraffes

Way back when it was cold out I bought an old Mamiya Sekor 1000TL for a whopping $15 at a mass indoor garage sale at the dome in Henrietta. Last weekend I bought a roll of insanely expensive Kodak Portra 400 ($7+4 for developing=$11) and gave it a go cold turkey to test the camera. All I did was colour correct the images a little.

Grandpa Hans took a picture of me (he's the fellow who introduced me to things like depth of field, aperture and shutter speed) and asked if the camera had batteries since the meter light wasn't on. I honestly forgot cameras needed batteries for that sort of thing and was elated that my photographing wasn't dependent on batteries or light meters. Win for film!

Weed, Walk, Teach, Lather, Rinse, Repeat

2011-07-22T12:20:00.000-04:00

If I shower and if I wash my hair when I do, of course.

In case you're wondering what happened to "looking up often" and taking photos to post, it's been a busy week and a half. Yesterday I started my job as a teaching assistant (TA) at RIT for a second year class. This guy above is Billy and he's following a long in Photoshop. I think he's following anyway. I have three other part time jobs I'm balancing involving dogs, audio files, landscaping and weeding.

So I follow this blog Kisses from Katie. Katie and I are both 22 but she's moved to Uganda and adopted 13 daughters while I'm at RIT... teaching 13 American students how to run computer programs and their $5,000+ cameras.

I'm also reading this book called Radical by David Platt. The first few pages start out with revealing a church had published a bulletin that celebrated their $23,000,000 addition complete with all the nice chairs and stained glass. Right next to that announcement was the fact that they were aware of famine/genocide in Sudan and had managed to scrape together $5,000 to donate.

Ouch. If you hadn't heard, yesterday, today, and tomorrow thousands of Somalian refugees have run to, are escaping into, and will flee into surrounding countries. Those are the people who were strong enough to survive and make it out to beg for aid and a days worth of food that I could inhale in 30 seconds.

It's air conditioned in this windowless, gray room of $100,000+ of equipment. I can walk to my car and drive myself back into air conditioning or to Wegmans for food.

Some days I question if I am in the right place and how long I will have to stay here. How could you not put your hands to work when there is hunger such as this?

Up from the Grass, Down from the Hay

2011-07-10T23:05:00.000-04:00

Look up often. The sky was beautiful morning to night.

Gabrielle Chapman

Spent the afternoon at the Chapman's house- a name you may remember from posts on the Fultons as they are neighbors. The puppy Raja and I joined Michelle and Gabby at the community garden for a while to water and snag some lettuce and zucchini for dinner.

Looked up from the grass and down from the hay for these ones.

Restless Bed Rest

2011-07-09T23:13:00.001-04:00

Hazel Stevens, 4

"Elder Ed" & Barb Harrington

I spent the day at my friend's the Stevens' house weeding, doing laundry, and scrubbing the bathrooms while a couple girls (Olivia and Victoria) watched the puppy I'm pooch sitting and entertained the kids. Why was I there instead of sunbathing like I usually do on sunny Saturdays? Autumn is on bed rest for her pregnancy for three weeks which, for someone like her, is an eternity. Those are her feet under the dandelion.

P.S. I would not recommend washing a shower after intense weeding. It dirties the shower as you clean it.

P.S. Today was the official day South Sudan became the 54th nation in Africa! Implying Africa is not a single nation but a continent, everyone.

Mary's Place & Charlotte Beach

2011-07-08T19:23:00.000-04:00

Salome, 13 from the Congo

The top one is pretty much the only photo I took when I volunteered for the day at Mary's Place when they went to Charlotte Beach yesterday. There we were, almost all of us volunteers yet again women, walking down the street with kids from Nepal, Congo and Sudan. We stuck out!

I had my first RTS (Rochester Transit System) bus ride with Awal. I realized on the way back that I hadn't been on a bus since I rode from Tanga to Arusha late last August. It wasn't so different since I was riding with a lot of kids from Africa only, nobody asked to marry me. A humbling experience indeed.

The bottom two I found on my camera after it spent an hour in the hands of multiple kids on Tuesday. Almost all of them are out of focus and lopsided because the kids just hit the button but once in a while there's some cool ones! It's fun to go through them.

Fireworks... at What Cost?

2011-07-05T10:10:00.008-04:00

According to the Foreign Trade Statistics, in 2010:

$3.2 million of American flags imported ($2.8 million from China)

$197.3 million worth of fireworks imported to the U.S. ($190.7 million from China)

$98.3 billion in trade between the U.S. and the U.K. making our 1776 adversary our 6th leading trade parter

U.S. Census Bureau records estimate that:

2,500,000 lived in the U.S. in 1776

311,700,000 were living in the U.S. in 2010

(Numbers taken from U.S. Census Bureau)

According to the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization, in 2010, 925 million people were, by definition of being undernourished, hungry.

The increase [in numbers] has been due to three factors:

1) neglect of agriculture relevant to very poor people by governments and international agencies

2) the current worldwide economic crisis

3) the significant increase of food prices in the last several years which has been devastating to those with only a few dollars a day to spend

925 million people is 13.6 percent of the estimated world population of 6.8 billion. In round numbers there are 7 billion people in the world. Thus, with an estimated 925 million hungry people in the world, 13.1 percent, or almost 1 in 7 people are hungry. Children are the most visible victims of undernutrition...Children who are poorly nourished suffer up to 160 days of illness each year. Poor nutrition plays a role in at least half of the 10.9 million child deaths each year--five million deaths.*

*All information taken from the World Hunger website

The numbers may not be completely accurate since they stem from one source, but I'm willing to bet they're not too far off. I don't have any delusions that throwing money at the problem helps things and it often exacerbates the situation, but honestly, do we really have to spend $197,300,000 on fireworks? I am, however, convinced that our actions speak for what we believe. It goes to football, TV, "emergency" McDonald's trips, cars, clothes, loans for those nice cars...

I'm guilty of spending my money on things that reveal what I really care about and boils down to one thing: me. AGH. I think we don't believe our efforts make a difference- I've often felt that way. I'm safe in the woods of Livonia, far from the cries of the wounded in Sudan as those in the south fight for their own freedom. This article (photos by Tyler Hicks) Sudan Approaches Split has almost nothing to do with me. Yet as I read the article about those in the Nuba Mountains fighting, I think about Awal and her family at Mary's Place. They didn't make it out of Sudan and here on their own- someone poured their time and effort and surely some money out-of-pocket to help them get out. $197.3 million could go a long way. My meager bank account doesn't need to be tapped for Starbucks when Wegmans has free wi-fi and surely doesn't care if I borrow it and drink from my water bottle.

Thoughts, comments?

Springs in Springwater

2011-07-05T10:06:00.001-04:00

42 gallons of "Alkaline spring water". Yesterday morning my mom and I drove down to Springwater (not joking) with 4 bags of empty gallon jugs in the back of her car. The water is good and wicked cold, especially without shoes. It's right alongside the side of the road and springs from deep under ground. Touch Me Nots and a rarer kind of watercress that only grows near Alkaline waters have sprouted up around the little spring.The water is less acidic than normal water but I'm not convinced it's worth the effort lugging those gallons to the car and into the basement.

2011-07-05T09:57:00.000-04:00

My former roommate/future fellow traveller Steph is in town so she Vince and I went to a park in Penfield on Saturday.

Float Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee! (at any age!)

2011-07-01T16:58:00.000-04:00

Coach Andrew Lennox

After making the decision to leave RIT's crew team at the end of the winter season, I still craved to be on the water again. Nothing in life is ever repeatable and I'd be hard pressed to forget the painful early morning work-outs and the thrill of being in sync with a team of tough, super great women on the water.

Just as school came to an end, an opportunity arose and I was able to join the women of Adventure Out! in rowing on the Erie Canal for a month. Crew is expensive though and I couldn't afford the summer session so naturally, I asked to come back and ride in the pace boat and take photos. Julie Doyle, the coordinator of Adventure Out! was happy to let me come along so yesterday as the sun crept towards the treed horizon, I used that bench on the little boat for all it was worth and managed to not capsize the boat.

If you're anything like Professor Snyder, all you want to know is where the tight shot is of the face and the act of getting the boat into the water and out. The shots of shouldering the boat down are sub-par (and to exert my independence, this is my blog) and I was quickly drafted to help carry the boat up, my camera and lifejacket bouncing on my shoulder. This is one instance, possibly the only one, where being tall and young is a disadvantage. Older, shorter women don't carry the weight of a boat the same as eight RIT women. The boat got in though :)

I would probably bring a 300mm lens if I were ever to do this again for some of those intense faces and another body. But I'd waited a month for the Leica M8 and it I'd have to have turned it in to get another 5D Mark II! Some days, well, every day, we have to make decisions we can live with and do the best we can with what we have.

Mary's Place & S'mores

2011-07-01T16:28:00.001-04:00

Dea Awuok, Sudan

Yesterday I went out with my fellow Africa loving friend Autumn for several hours of errand running, hung out at the refugee center for a bit, shot rowing (next post) and then went home and made a fire and s'mores with my brother.

"Never Too Big to Be My Friend"

2011-06-28T23:39:00.002-04:00

Esther

Awal

Freddy

Awal's cousin

Salome

The Dancing Queen

Kathy

the shoes lasted about 5 minutes

Celeste

All of these were taken by the most beautiful kids I've ever met (in addition to the Fultons and Fesers...). I'm sure this is completely against photojournalism laws of some kind but I didn't take a single picture of the 622 I found on my card when I left Mary's Place. They all took turns as well as kids do and took pictures.

Remember the last post about spending time with refugees in the city? This is it. It was one of the highlights of my summer playing basketball with Christian from the DRC and a bunch of boys from the Sudan.

The best part: Awal thought she could give me a piggy back ride and when she couldn't and I said I was too big she grinned and hugged me saying, "You'll never be too big to be my friend". My heart melted. She'll be tall; at only 13 she's creeping up on me.

HEY, a shout out to men here, there is a wealth of gorgeous, smart women going to Africa and volunteering despite the "dangers". Please get your bottom off the couch and stop playing x-box. I've no doubt the boys would rather play with some men than a bunch of chicks- at their age anyway ;) So let me know if you want to come! Mon, Tues, Thurs, Fri they're open.

LPGA Championship

2011-06-27T10:51:00.001-04:00

Michelle Wie, U.S.

Leta Ladley, U.S.

Michele Redman, U.S.

Cindy LaCrosse (U.S.) and Yani Tseng

Yani Tseng and her caddie, John Hamilton

The board

Yani Tseng, winner of the 2011 LPGA Championship, before teeing off at hole one.

Yesterday, I shot the LPGA tour for Golf Local and I learned:

-I need a new backpack (i.e. one that can stay closed without caribiners)

-make a check list

-to remember tape

-not to clean out my car without putting the essentials back in (such as a knife and brush)

-put padding on the 20 lb. lens and monopod set-up I'll be carrying/bruising my collar bones with all day

-always keep $20 as extra cash somewhere in your car. You will never say, "Oh my gosh, if only I didn't have that extra money to get me through in a pinch!" You will regret not having it one day.

There were times during the day when we had to freeze for the golfer (they're irritatingly particular about silence and focus) and I rested my face on the 400mm lens like it was my friend. I love shooting now. However, as much as it was a cool experience and I'd take a freelance job shooting sports almost any day, I sat there and couldn't help but think how much money was being spent on the day. How much was wasted.

The competing internet pages on my laptop were LPGA info, the websites of Getty photographers who'd been covering the event, and numerous online articles and photo essays on the growing shortage of food. Several thousand people will die today because they had no food. The photographs of war and famine I saw in the LIFE 1989 magazine as a kid have not led to solutions- more photographs of war and famine are being published now and the situation is continually worsening. It leaps and spreads from country to country like fire. It's predicted that we'll have two more billion people on the planet within 35 years and there won't be enough food for a lot of them. It's bleak.

I couldn't truly enjoy "documenting" the importance of golf when I'd trade a seat next to Scott Halleran any day for the freedom and wonder of being with refugees in Rochester or for future considerations, a cement house along a dirt road in Africa. Seriously, nothing is being published on albino Tanzanians being killed for their body parts in cultic rituals. There's a miracle man west of Arusha, west of The Mountain of God, who's 500 shilling cup of something is supposed to cure AIDs.

This is good practice though. If I can't tell a story or make a photograph here I will be ill-equipped to accurately express any other kind of story.

Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men's blood and probably themselves will not be realized. Make big plans; aim high in hope and work, remembering that a noble, logical diagram once recorded will never die, but long after we are gone will be a living thing, asserting itself with ever-growing insistency. Remember that our sons and grandsons are going to do things that would stagger us. Let your watchword be order and your beacon beauty.

-Daniel Burnham, Chicago architect

Boom, Baby

2011-06-25T16:44:00.001-04:00

Last night I sat on the porch (last night house sitting!) in the mist and cursed at the cat rubbing against me as I held the shutter for 5 minutes in an effort to capture all the lightning bugs. Not a total failure.

I woke up to a text from my mom this morning that read, "We have another contestant for you. Good morning, Honey!" The second read, "It's a talker too. We discussed the consequences of being in the veggie garden but all I got back was attitude." People stop wondering why I'm the way I am when they meet my mom but also say, "Oh, your mom is so sweet! She brought us over the best cinnamon rolls!" She doesn't have the heart to kill anything but slugs on the lettuce.

However, the little bugger didn't have quite so much to say to me when I picked up the cage in one hand while carrying the .22 in the other. A little strawberry rubbed on the muzzle calmed him right down and the shot split it's head open instantaneously.

The bottom line is, someone has to shoot it and I might as well get over it and get over it now. You never know what you'll encounter in the future as a photojournalist... especially as one planning to move to Africa. And Jacob Mills didn't think I could kill the goat last summer. You gotta do what you gotta do.

I Love you in the Morning

2011-06-24T12:26:00.000-04:00

This is my life right now; strawberries and photographs.

I know not everyone lives like my family. But, after my friend Vince and I went out for some male bonding, I realised it more than before. With my great grandfather's .22 we walked in a field and he said he'd always wanted to shoot a gun in a wheat field. We hunted crows barefoot, ate dinner on the porch with my grandparents, and drank fresh milk from the farm. This morning, I let the chickens out, collected eggs, made biscuits from scratch (my mom even grinds the flour); and picked, washed, cut, bagged, and froze the berries.

Now, Ian and I are watching Pulp Fiction and my roommate Steph texted me to say she had a dream that we lived in an apartment in New York City together. It's a good life.

Here Chickens...Come to Me

2011-06-20T21:58:00.000-04:00

I never thought I'd spend 15 minutes of my life balancing on a trailer hitch waiting for the right chicken moment. This is my second house sitting this summer so if anyone's looking to get away- I'm valuable on the market! Dogs, cats, chickens, plants- please, anything but the children!

Yesterday was a struggle. It ended up me in nothing but shorts and my JUST DO IT sports bra delicately chasing the chickens as I waved my red t-shirt and herded them into the coup. I always thought the evil stepmother's comment in Ever After, "Go...catch a chicken!" was funny but ladies and gents, it is no easy task. They're quick little devils.

Attempt: #1

2011-06-20T11:01:00.001-04:00

Last night was the first night my brother could eat solid food in two weeks so he's exhausted and was kind enough to let me use his time. Wisdom teeth surgery is tough.

I checked out a Profoto acute kit to practice lighting and it took all weekend but this morning I tried my hand at it. Admittedly, it's been a couple of years since I purposefully checked a kit out but I do have the summer and said I'd do some sports portraits SO here we are. You can't even tell I added light unless you look at an exposure without it.

I will learn to make solid editorial portraits this summer!

World Refugee Day

2011-06-19T01:04:00.001-04:00

My former classmate and Iringa, Tanzania tent-mate Megan applies a hand painting.

One of the hand paintings.

Aisha jumps rope outside of the Children's School on Averill and Monroe in Rochester, N.Y.

Samosas

Bhutanese dancers

The little gentleman half of Bhutanese dancers

Today, I had the pleasure of being invited by a friend to photograph World Refugee Day in Rochester held at school 15 in the city. There was face painting, dancing, good food from Nepal, Sudan, Afghanistan, and other places, as well as a lot of beautiful, awesome people.

The best part of the day was (of course) when I sat down to eat with a couple kids and found out they're from Sudan and the DRC. Awal, Salame, and Joseph were wonderful. Another girl joined us, a student from Nazareth College, and we got talking about Mary's Place. I asked if any of them knew Kiswahili and Salame and Joseph did! Salame immediately said, "jambo!"And was soon peppering me with questions to discover what else I could say.

She wasted no time in tapping everyone she knew on the shoulder and exclaiming, "She knows Kiswahili! Watch!" and we would start a conversation for the person. After a few people I told her my friend (Meg) in the gym lived with me there once and she knew some Kiswahili as well. Salame was after her in a flash.

Unfortunately, I blanked on more than the basics but later and as I fell asleep I was converting as much of my thoughts to Kiswahili as possible. She reintroduced me to Cathy who, I believe, runs the refugee center at Mary's Place, and suggested Salame teach me Kiswahili as I help her with her English tenses. Sounds like a plan, Sam! The other day I ordered a Pimsleur to learn Kiswahili on CD. Days like this I practically prance out and think, "I have the best life."

Rochester may not be Tanzania, but a place is defined by it's people and God's been gracious enough to provide connections between people from Africa and I... until I can get back :)

O'Connell Electric, 100 Years

2011-06-17T01:02:00.000-04:00

O'Connell Electric celebrates 100 years. It's overwhelmingly clear in this photo, isn't it? There wasn't a whole lot besides the relationships and connections made the night a success.

Rochester Refugee Women's Network: A Picnic

2011-06-12T19:37:00.000-04:00

Today, I had the pleasure of photographing an event held by the Rochester Refugee Women's Network at Charlotte Beach on Lake Ontario. The women were primarily from Nepal and spoke Nepalese. Workers from the network explained what a sandwich is and how to make one. Shockingly no one liked the PB&J! These women and their children are beautiful and it was wonderful to be reminded that we're all human and we can still communicate without speaking the same language. One little guy happily dropped into the lake, was soon covered in sand and put up a fight when his mom finally got him away from the beach. She didn't speak a lick of English but whatever she said, I completely understood she told me he did not want to leave the water.

It was so good to be with people who aren't from the U.S. again (and those who were shared a passion for refugees). My favourite photos are the first one and the last two :)

A Bit of Change

2011-06-11T13:29:00.003-04:00

Last night, I slept outside on a bed under the mosquito net and drank rooibos tea as I read the strong words of Desmond Tutu- an outspoken South African bishop. My heart felt a little closer to home out there. The last time I slept on a bed with a net was in July on my friend Kirsty's porch that overlooked Kilimanjaro.

The whole bit was fantastic until 2:45AM when the heavy rains came in and I woke up and stuck my hand in the grassy puke my dog had thrown up next to me on the bed. The trip to the public market with my mom and peony cutting festival made the vomit situation seem less volatile to my day.

In other news...Oh, happy day! The cage is open! I've taken out a 24-70mm every time since no one is at school but transfer kids (of whom I was precisely two years ago). In a few weeks, I'll be the teaching assistant for Owen Butler- the same class I took way back when. I also regained full library access so I stocked up on Desmond Tutu, Nat Geo, and other photo books.

Can I just say, it's so good to be out of school and back in the world where life doesn't revolve around professors and critiques. I can shoot simply because I love shooting and because I want to get better, not for a grade. How people miss school is something I will never understand.

This is Called Blog Abuse

2011-06-06T02:09:00.000-04:00

Two Vine, Rochester, N.Y.

3 June 2011

East Avon, N.Y.

4 June 2011

We officially put up The Map and plotted a rough route for our adventure around the world. Sadly, my Africa poster had to be displaced to the other wall.

4 June 2011

Lima, N.Y. Not such a terrible substitute (or far cry!) from Africa sometimes.

4 June 2011

Fairport Canal Days, N.Y.

5 June 2011

My brother Ian's graduation ceremony tonight at the Eastman Theatre. Looking fly in those jackets!

5 June 2011

I call it blog neglect followed by abuse. Three days worth of posting in one night just proves my negligence on tending to this little beast once we're released from purgatory- I mean, school.

I've been stuck with the 50mm since May 18 and I am more than ready to get back that cage access to broaden my glass horizons. More to come!

A Wedding

2011-06-02T22:31:00.000-04:00

My friend Joel let me come on a little Hindu wedding adventure last Saturday.

One Hundred & Twenty Nine Days

2011-05-19T00:45:00.000-04:00

O n e H u n d r e d & T w e n t y - N i n e D a y s

It's taken me on quite a journey. The greatest lesson I've learned since January is, once again, that the journey is the destination. Two years ago a man named Jon Arensen said that to a motley group of college students that they we embarked on one of the greatest adventures of their lives.

Two years ago I didn't know where I would go, who I would meet there and how people would change for me. I have anticipated little but expected much. My mom always says, "Life happens when you're making plans" and isn't that the truth! It's so much easier to direct an object already in motion and so, I roll along at different paces.

A professor told me, "Let's get to another point. it has to do with how easy art should be. I think it should not be easy. I think, and I know in fact, you have to have something to bite against. You need some grit, some sandpaper, something to struggle with otherwise there is no progress at all. If you're striving to make it easy, it will become easy and you will make no progress... that's what we should be engaged in."

Agh, it's so not easy. It's pushing and pushing and when I get frustrated with pushing I go back and shove more of my weight into it to start pushing again. I'm realizing that satisfaction of any measure isn't going to come from doing anything easy- it's the tough stuff long the way and the struggle itself that makes a life!

(The following is a collection of my favourite blog posts)

Fall

Winter

Spring

As time moves along, it's taking us with it for the ride. I have no idea where I'll be in the next year beyond August. France, Spain, New Zealand, Morocco- wherever the wind and ground travel may take my brother and I. I honestly don't know what will happen to us. It's an adventure of a lifetime! Another one! Photography is pulsing in my blood now, but in what direction will I go? Who will we meet? Where will we sleep and work and what will people feed us?

What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? -it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies. - On the Road, Jack Kerouac

This last day of classes is really a flag in a crazed, clenched hand dangling over the racetrack that flicks out of sight in a blur and you're on your own to figure life out.

While You Were Fighting: Home at Last II/II

2011-05-15T16:35:00.000-04:00

They'd been worried about how long it would take for Esther to warm up to Jordan and she wasn't that thrilled at first. Who would be when you woke up your mom at 5:45AM?

Juli ran in as soon as she woke up.

It took Esther all of 15 minutes to warm up to Jordan.

Getting an eyelash during breakfast

Sarah is so tired. At least Jordan's doing the diaper change!

At long last!

They're all back together again- for good! Everyone had so many emotions going on it was crazy to watch. Sarah was really tired this morning after Esther woke up at 5:45AM. The day before had been emotionally rough on Sarah and I think the fatigue carried over into today.

It started yesterday around 2 or 3PM when Jordan's plane in Atlanta was delayed and he missed his connecting flight. "Say you're coming home to see your family and it's been a year!" Sarah told him on the phone. Around 8PM Jordan called to say instead of coming in the next day as had been rescheduled, he'd gotten onto a flight that would get him into Rochester at 11PM. The girls were all over the place emotionally which exacerbated Sarah's strained emotional state.

A friend of Sarah's came over while she was putting the girls to bed and making a sign for Jordan and then Sarah's sister Debbie and her friend Shannon came over to finish the sign. Michelle also came down and she and Sarah put up the big welcome home sign. Then Sarah and I finally headed off to Walmart and the airport.

The plan had been to meet him at 5PM at the gate in Rochester with the girls and with family and friends. That didn't happen. Later, Jordan called as we were leaving Walmart and said his plane had landed early. Of course it did! Sarah drove like mad through heavy rain and when we got inside we ran down the airport from concourse A to B and Jordan had snuck around the corner to ham it up like he'd been there forever but then they ran and kissed and I had to try and hold the camera steady. Jordan's luggage miraculously made it to the airport and we drove back home. He told a couple of stories along the way and had a little dinner with Sarah as they switched phones. Juli didn't even notice when he snuck into his and Sarah's room to move Juli into her own bed- something Sarah has been doing.

I slept on the couch and woke up for the hugging from the girls and church by 9AM. Amazing that Sarah has gotten those girls ready and to church on time this last year. She something about how glad she was to not do it alone since she's done it alone for about fifty services. A year is a long time! I hope she gets a nap today.

Welcome home Specialist Jordan Fulton!

While You Were Fighting: Home at Last I/II

2011-05-15T16:13:00.000-04:00

Sarah tried on a few different outfits early afternoon in preparation for our airport safari. This was shortly before she found out Jordan's plane had been delayed which would cause him to miss his connecting flight.

Esther had the worst meltdown I've seen yet- all afternoon.

Gabby was already upset about leaving the other kids playing outside and the possibility of no Chinese food when she asked if they weren't going to get Daddy and Sarah had to tell her no.

Sarah had already made dinner for Jordan's homecoming but it was for him so, to Gabby's delight, out we went to the Honeoye-Falls for the Chinese buffet.

Jordan called and said he managed to get on a flight that would get him out of Atlanta and into Rochester at 11PM- six hours later than planned. Sarah was so done.

Shannon Puffer, a friend of Sarah's sister Debbie came over with Deb to finish the sign for Jordan.

Michelle Chapman came over with the sign she and her son Samuel had made and they hung it outside before we went to the airport.

Waiting for his luggage.

The girls had already been asleep for a long time when they got back so Sarah and Jordan finally switched phones. When she went down to meet his first plane in from Afghanistan they'd also gone out to get new phones and hers wasn't available yet so he while he was there for the last two weeks, he got it for her. "She made me have the girl phone!" he whispered.

*Walk home before going through the Atlanta airport because it will most probably be faster.

While You Were Fighting: Days 5 & 6

2011-05-11T15:42:00.000-04:00

3 May 2011

10 May 2011

As of last weekend, Jordan is in the U.S.! Sarah made a last minute decision to go down and see him and her family took care of the girls. Just a few more days until he flies into Rochester!

Highland

2011-05-11T14:15:00.002-04:00

Highland Park

Rochester, N.Y.

Imagine RIT

2011-05-09T07:29:00.001-04:00

8 Beat Measure, RIT's oldest, all male a cappella group before their performance at the opening ceremonies.

Carlotta Garcia, 9

Erin Woo (9), Carlotta Garcia (9) and Rodrigo Garcia

Fencing in the student life center,

Tessa McArdle with her mom Kate, two and a half

Gordon Field House

Photographed all day at Imagine RIT.

Tango Cafe

2011-05-07T01:17:00.001-04:00

Light dripped from the ceilings and ran onto the floor in frothy, white pools and streams. It illuminated and shadowed slow, languid dancing and the staccato kicks of ballroom heels.

The Tango Cafe on Gregory street was alive with Vaudville music pouring through the speakers and the black and white films of the 30's and 40's flickering on the billowing white sheet that hung in the middle of the room. They watched and they danced with their own lovers and the loves of others.

I used a tilt-shift lens for the first half of the night and a 35mm with gelled flash. These are pretty much raw with only the colour balance adjusted on the ones without flash- no cropping. Just the way I like it.

Many thanks to Prisca Edwards for inviting me to shoot with her tonight!

Indiana & Memories

2011-05-03T23:32:00.001-04:00

Jo watches the royal wedding on Friday morning before we head out.

Jo turned just in time to watch the kiss and Heather whirled around in her chair a second too late. Pole sana.

Heather leaving Payne's.

Taylathon bike race

Laura's mom and sister at Ivanhoe's.

This past weekend I drove to Taylor University in Upland, Indiana with my friends Jo, Heather and Christine to meet Laura, Angela and Emily for a reunion. Two years ago, almost to the day, we said goodbye to one another in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania and have stayed in touch.

Now, we're moving on. I'm heading out into the world to travel (and returning to RIT for a final quarter or two), some of us have jobs, a couple from the trip are engaged or married and couldn't come, and others are moving away to start life after school.

The first time we saw elephants and zebras, heard Dr. Arensen's stories and ate flying ants we were together gasping in awe and laughing. All of us have changed some but our life together in Tanzania is the common thread that ties us all together.

For your entertainment...

Engaged, Engaged, Single, and Married after running something like 8 or 10 miles near Masumbo in Iringa, Tanzania. Don't run barefoot that long with an infected heel. It's a long run.

Easter & Things That Matter

2011-04-25T18:22:00.002-04:00

Elana Turchetti

Maybe you were in bed thinking or sleeping, getting your kids ready for an Easter service, making breakfast or out for a morning run but some of us woke up early to watch the sun rise at Cobbs Hill. We had breakfast at our apartment, talked about Katie Davis an her love for Jesus and passion in Uganda (she's 22!), went to church, gathered again for lunch at my friend Joel's house in the city and then I had dinner with my family.

In between all of the running around and cooking, Elana and Joel were talking in the front room and I made this picture of her.

I read this the other day:

"You don't have to know a lot of things for your life to make a lasting difference in the world. But you do have to know the few great things that matter, perhaps just one, and then be willing to live for them and die for them."
-Don't Waste Your Life, John Piper

Beat the Old Man Challenge

2011-04-23T22:13:00.000-04:00

Krista pauses for a picture after winning the first competition: a 3 mile run on the YMCA track

Steve's wife Dana and Krista greet Steve after he completes the 3 mile run.

Nearing the end of the racquetball competition. Krista lost this event.

A basketball player from the next quart pauses to peer into Steve and Krista's competition.

Krista's grandparents Al and Carol Sealy watch the one-on-one basketball game.

Krista eyes an incoming pitch during the softball competition.

Steve nails another pitch. We were at a relatively safe height upstairs.

Krista and her grandfather watch Steve hit the 60 pitches.

Krista's family and Steve against one of the YMCA's murals after the competition.

This morning I had the pleasure of photographing Rochester YMCA's Beat the Old Man Challenge. Krista Sealy, 16, of Hilton high school competed against the president of Pace Windows and Doors, Steve Abramson, 58, in a 3 mile run, 60 softball pitch hitting contest, and games of basketball and racquetball. There are plans for Krista to speak on Rochester's 101.3 Kiss FM to promote the concept of athletics actually being fun. Krista admitted she was nervous but she won the competition.

Since she beat Steve in two contests, Krista will receive $200 in gifts and prizes and will also receive $1000 to be donated to the fitness program of the school she represents.

Many thanks to the Sealy's and Abramson's for allowing me to photograph them today and also to Jay Polston of the YMCA for welcoming me to the event in the first place.

Best of luck to you Krista!

While You Were Fighting: Day 4

2011-04-23T20:30:00.000-04:00

Juliana and Gabrielle play together on Tuesday morning while Juli is on break from school.

Esther and Gabby pick out their favourite coloured gummy vitamins before heading to the laundry mat.

Sarah pauses a game at the laundry mat to fix one of the Rapunzels' hair.

Sarah trying to contact the operator of the laundry mat when the comforter was barely wet after 45 minutes in the machine.

In a moment of rare quiet, the girls Esther, Juliana, and Gabrielle sit in rapture watching "Esther: The Girl Who Became Queen" by the Christian children's movie company Veggie Tales.

Two seconds before it'd been, "more ketchup?" and then a minor meltdown. Two seconds after, she was a happy camper.

As Sarah said on Facebook, she has her hands full.

This is all from Tuesday on 19 April, 2011. When I arrived at the Fultons , Sarah was preparing to go to the laundry mat to wash a comforter after milk had been spilled on it the night before. After going to the local laundry mat in Lima and finding all of the large washing machines had been taken out, she decided to make the trip to Lakeville. The girls played together for the 45 minutes the load was going but when Sarah took out the comforter, most of it was bone dry and still dirty. The people she called could not do anything that day and Sarah was faced with a decision.

Option A) She could either start the load, drive the 15 minutes back to Lima and put the girls down for a nap, wait, and return to put the blanket in the dryer.

Option B) Put the load in the wash, wait, then take the girls for a nap while the load dried and return. Either way, the majority of her day was dedicated to washing a blanket and mothering three girls under five.

Though I had to get to class, I believe Sarah's parents watched the girls while she worked out the dryer situation.

A lot of parents do have days like this while their significant other is at work but Sarah doesn't get much of a break. She was still patient with the girls who had no idea what was going on. Gabby kept putting in her lunch order of something like two hamburgers and fries.