The Girl, The Road, The Life

I was lying alone in the middle of a field today, just soaking up the day and thinking, and I suddenly realized that I didn’t and hadn’t seen any jet streams. There was nothing but clouds and blue, and I couldn’t help but think how peculiar it was to look up and only see sky, pure unadulterated sky, a preindustrial sky. I wanted to touch it, but there was nothing to grasp. Stay well everybody. Don’t forget to look up every once and awhile. Things aren’t all bad.

I’m listening to the Hamilton soundtrack and why wouldn’t I? Being surrounded by green and light and breeze and statues of sad angels and sleeping gargoyles and frogs and stones imprinted with words that say “imagine” and “purring is just smiling out loud” and from somewhere comes the scent of something sweet and something fried and a steel toucan is spitting up water and I suppose that’s supposed to be calming or decorative and I just stand and breathe in the stillness and the calm and I know later a storm will hit because I can see the cumulus clouds gathering height in the west but for now there is no storm, no rain, just light and laughter and older women in light sweaters and Capri pants and skillfully teased hair and golden baubles about their wrists and necks and their toes are painted candy pink and isn’t everything “just so cute” and I love it. Right here, right this second I love it all as every single one of my senses has something to delight in, and I just know that this second, this breath, this heartbeat is a perfect moment, and maybe not for anyone else, but it is for me, and how delicious that is and how surprising and how I can’t wait to come upon another one because that’s how it happens. You can’t plan them, they just happen and isn’t life grand because every once in awhile you’ll idly wander into a nook or a garden or brush someone’s hand or catch a smile on a passing stranger or hear a baby squeal happily playing in water and there it’ll be. Perfection.

If Pres-elect Trump won’t protect and defend clean air, water and our future - we the people will. #ProtectAndDefend http://thndr.me/b8WBIh

7. The strongest tea can hold no candle to a nice cup of coffee.

I really have to ask myself, is it worth it?  Women have been squatting to pee since Lucy first felt that incomparable bladder pressure.  In many parts of Asia, squatting is the norm.  Some of their restrooms are called “squatters” for Pete’s sake.  Just pop that squat ladies.  It’s not that bad really, it simply is what it is. Don’t let the world pee shame you.  

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3AbrDWIwBO4)

I went to the movies to treat myself, and bought a large popcorn (all of which I ate) and a 44oz cheery Icee (all of which a drank), and was sat next to an older lady probably in her 60s, also there by herself, but she had brought along her pet chihuahua.  Now there’s a lady with a plan.  She carries unconditional love and support around with her in a pretty pink purse.  I went this morning and gave my cat, that I’ve had for 12 years, up for adoption.   I suppose this post about how birthdays are the worst, and I’m awful is supposed to be cathartic.  I don’t particularly feel any better, but oh well.  There’s always tomorrow.

Beauty-never giving up

Red Rooster cafe- beauty in the dichotomies.

As I was walking back to the farmhouse this morning at one o'clock (the old farmhouse doesn’t have indoor plumbing so late night bathroom runs are quite the run indeed), I heard a woman’s voice say “hello”. I instantly stopped and looked around, ears strained for any indication that I wasn’t alone on this cold, dark morning. I’m living at the moment on a centuries old farm, located a scant 15 miles from the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe Reservation, so there’s bound to be some history here. All I could hear was one of the dogs barking incessantly at nothing, which is when I decided to run into the house, as everyone knows dogs have a sixth sense about these things. I locked the screen door, booby trapped my bedroom door, and lay in the dark with an industrial sized can of bear mace at the ready. I realize that if there was a specter of some sort, my attempts at defense were probably pretty much useless. I don’t think bear spray affects ghosts, then again I haven't found any studies to prove that it doesn’t either. One of my greatest life accomplishments to date; not macing myself in my sleep. I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation for the “hello” I heard, but you never can be 100% positive, can you? Overactive imaginations-a real thing of beauty.

Today, I watched a 70 year old man play in the mud. We're building an earth oven, and in order to make the insulating layer of the dome thingy (not the official term) you have to mix, Ten Commandments style (preferably sans Egyptian slave drivers) some mud using three parts sand to one part wet clay. It's a thing of beauty to watch a weathered old farmer his hair a bleached white, skin the color of a saddle, craggy face a topographical map chronicling long days and short nights, wearing oversized ancient galoshes, and joyfully stomping around in mud. Beauty-it's the little things.

I recently found out that I didn’t get a job that I pretty much had my next few months staked on, and my knee jerk reaction was to get upset and angry and act like a petulant child. Seems like a silly thing considering the massive amounts of turmoil that is happening in the world currently. There is an abundance of hatred and fear and violence, and me not getting a job is hardly a catastrophe. Donald Trump becoming the GOP nomination is a catastrophe. Me having to refigure my life? Not so much. The world is a crazy place. The day I post a blog essentially praising the people of Texas for being the nicest people ever, five policemen get killed in Dallas. I learned my lesson about saying anything good about mankind, because they will turn around and prove you wrong. Don’t worry, I don’t really believe that, but it is incredibly tempting. I’m not quite sure what the purpose of this post is. Maybe it’s an intro to a change in my concentration for this blog. It was supposed to be a recounting of a cross country motorcycle trip, but you know what they say, life happens when you’re making other plans. Now…I think I’d rather focus on some beauty. Yes, the world is full of grossness and hypocrisy, and racism and bigotry, etc etc etc. God, I hate haters, but despite all that, there is beauty as well. So, I’m going to find a bit of beauty everyday to share, and maybe just maybe, bring a smile to someone somewhere, and perhaps flame a little hope. If there is one thing this world needs it’s hope, oh and a teleportation device (I’d really like to be able to instantly teleport to a remote tropical paradise somewhere on the off chance that Trump gets elected president. Please and thank you).

I'm sitting outside the TCBY in Fort Collins CO, tastefully ignoring the fact that my "healthy" dessert isn't quite so healthy as it is definitely more gummy bear than frozen yoghurt, but it's still better than eating an entire carton of Haagen Dazs (which of course I have never done, ahem). I've just returned to Fort Collins from a 3 week sojourn into Texas, a state I had never intended to spend any real amount of time in, having been influenced by the stereotype of racism and intolerance, and my own prejudice of cowboy hats and large belt buckles. I am now extremely glad I did. I drove to the land of Longhorns as part of a work exchange. For those of you who don't know what work exchanges are, there are a number of websites where "hosts" can essentially put up adds seeking work. Basically you work for them a few hours a day and in exchange you are provided with room and board. These exchanges range anywhere from working in a B&B or hostel, to ranching, organic farmsteads, building sustainable architecture, constructing "little houses", anything and everything your blessed little non-conformist, naturalist, vagabondian heart could desire. They are a fantastic opportunity to meet new people, experience new places and things, and are for those who like to travel, but want to avoid doing the "touristy" things, and would rather live like the locals do. I was contacted by a vineyard located in the delightful Hill Country of Texas, in Mason County. The hill country of Texas is pretty much Napa Valley 2.0. Vineyards, wineries, and distilleries abound. I was instantly charmed by the rolling fields of green, the abundant wildflowers, and the overall "largeness" of the place. The people were some of the nicest people as a whole that I have ever met. Of course I'm a white person, have little to no distinguishing characteristics , and can throw a blanket of southern twang over my words like a magician about to make his pretty assistant disappear, so I'm sure that helped. I only met one truly racist individual. Seemed like a nice fellow, till I heard his radio add, and saw a television interview where he said that he would never teach a Muslim how to shoot a gun because it would be like committing suicide. God bless 'Merica. He's indulged as being the town eccentric, and no one really takes him seriously. I think it may be an undisputed impossibility to take anyone wearing a 10 gallon hat seriously anyway, and his was a doozy. You can't judge all of Texas because of the actions of one, or a few. As a whole everyone was friendly and welcoming, almost to a creepy pod people extent. The simple fact of the matter is they love their land, and they love their history. The Mason County Museum, located in an old schoolhouse built in 1887, is one of the most comprehensive displays I've ever seen, and pretty much everything in there was donated from people who had been there since the first German decided that that bit of land was going to be the place to settle. Downtown Mason has changed little since the days of horse and buggy, and the people fully intend to keep it that way. There's a little sneer of distaste for nearby Fredericksburg which according to Masonites has become too "touristy". I got to spend a bit of time in Fredericksburg, and I guess "touristy" is a polite word for more "wealthy". They had great peaches tho.

Hanging in a thunderstorm

Early morning Mary.

Morning.