questioning him, myself, and everything

Ok, remember when I said I was done blogging about dating... uh yeah. so much for that.

So- the story is that for the past 8 weeks I've been dating this great guy, who creepily fills a lot of the requirements I set out over the past few years, which after all my failures, I'd tack on to the drawing board that I kept on returning to.

I said I wanted to date someone who's an anthrop, someone who's smarter, faster, stronger than me, someone who likes -no- who LOVES coffee, and who has something to say. Someone agnostic, like I am, but who believes in a non-anthropomorphized G-d, when all is said and done.

He should think I'm absolutely marvelous, he should be non-plussed by the fact that I have children, he should be willing to disagree with me on some things and should be ethical and love outdoor places.

He also happens, in real life, to be a Republican, to like Equal in his iced tea (baffles me entirely), to keep his bedroom messy, and to hunt large game. And I don't even know if that's the proper usage of the phrase "large game".


And I've been happy, being appreciated and pursued. The object of my affection enthusiastically treks across campus to see me for the 5 minutes our midday schedules allow and puts his arm around me protectively in public and texts just to say nice things sometimes.

But I'm suddenly afraid, too. I'm afraid that I'm un-please-able. I'm afraid that I will sabotage things because I am crazy or I don't want to be happy or something ridiculous.

I'm worried that I'm slower, weaker, and stupider or that I'm not willing to argue enough (good naturedly, of course), or well enough, on matters of science and politics.
And I'm terribly worried that, like B, he's rejecting the concept of defining the relationship because I'm just not nearly good enough. Don't worry, my LOGICAL side knows that if that's what he thinks, well then good riddance, and so on and so forth, but my emotional side wants to know if I'll ever come back from that awful twist of reality.


But let me defend my guy, and the state of things as they stand right now before you think he's anything like B!!

First of all, he's the first to say that you don't have to SAY "now we're bf/gf and we're not dating anyone else" because if it's so, it's so, no matter what you call it. And according to him, dating a person for a couple of months defines the relationship for you. Especially so if you wake up together regularly on weekends.

He is entirely opposed to concept of "the talk" that defines things between men and women yet we've talked about "the talk" and we've talked about the relationship (without crossing over into that which offends his sensibilities LOL!) and about what we like about all of this between us and about previous relationships that didn't go so well.

But my silent, internal counter to that is that a woman is sort of disrespected when she is "with" a man and she's not his "girlfriend". And do I want to be thought less of by everyone? Does he want me to be thought less of? For everyone to assume that I'm just NOT GOOD ENOUGH? Of course not.

But that assumption, for several reasons, is tied to legitimizing sex, and we're not having it, so... yeah.

I know.

...

We're crazy about each other and love falling asleep together and waking up together, but we're "waiting".

This might seem crazy, or right, to you. It seems like both to me, somehow.



But I'd love to know what you think about people and definitions and semantics in relationships. And about the waiting!

study groups can be really inefficient sometimes

Man. I just got home and I still have tons to do to get ready for the second round of examinations because my study group turned into a study/talk/snack session. Fun, but kind of a waste of time.

This is more for my sake (organization), than yours...

Order of Operations:

Prep for Archaeology exam (which is on Monday morning)

Finish lab HW (halfway done but two weeks worth to turn in, also due on Monday)

Transcribe interview, pull out thematic content

Prep for Ant Linguistics exam (on Tuesday)

Prep for Bio Ant exam (on Thursday)

And FYI "prep" means fix my notes w/ the online power points (all month my notes have been a wreck, spotty and insubstantial), finish the readings, and draw a bunch of phylogenies (Bio Ant).

a few days away from all out insanity? nahhhh

"Everything will be ok, everything will be fine..." I chanted to myself as I lay huddled on the floor between the kitchen and living room.

My kids were playing upstairs, I could hear them, so I let myself just wallow for a bit, not wanting them to see me upset and knowing they would make plenty of noise coming down the stairs. At least the "everything will be ok" motivational speech was an improvement. Minutes before I was crying out that I just couldn't take it anymore.

"It" being the constant cooking and cleaning (and scrubbing, on hands and knees), over and over, with no appreciation.

First, I was making lunch. Fresh fish. My mom's recipe for red snapper; a tomato, onion, and garlic sauce. The kids had just informed me that they weren't going to eat fish (even though at the grocery store, 24 hours earlier, I asked them if they wanted some fish this week and they said YES) and then they ran upstairs to play, when I splattered red sauce all over my brand new white wrap style blouse. And then, I took to the floor, fetal-style.

Once I got up there was a blur of activity. Helen and I nearly ripped the shirt off of me as I poured ginger ale on it, and then I got out some of the spray-on stuff she has around that is miraculously formulated.

White blouse was saved.

But what about my mental health? Seriously. I'm in a bind here.

This is the situation- I have been eating mostly clean un-processed foods with the exception of some beer and a tortilla at Brian's house a few weeks ago, and a little Greek dressing on a salad I had at Ikea yesterday (origin of the dressing unknown). And this kind of eating takes more work than eating just whatever. And I honestly need to eat every 3 hours.

Planning, shopping, washing prep stuff, etc. Now, with school starting again, I have to really be on the ball, but time will be a big factor.

Now, I love my roommate, you know that. She is as important to me as my own family. And I want what's best for her, and I'd love it if she cut out fast and highly processed foods... but she's not capable of doing it for herself and I just can't do it all! I can't do all the shopping and cooking and cleaning for both of us to eat clean, and I feel terribly guilty to do it just for myself... that seems so selfish.

So I don't know what to do. Can I just lay on the floor and moan a bit more? Can I have a snack? I'm starving already.

every summer for the rest of my life?

I am happy to say that I picked the right major. This was sort of the test, you know?

If you can hack it in the sun and rain, with dirt in your ears, ants in your lunch, and bug spray in your bra... If you can deal with the metric system, with nit picky paperwork about the "official" color of soil at certain levels, with bosses who Humph! and Argh! at your team, and with co-workers who never stop wishing aloud they were somewhere (anywhere!!) else...

...then maybe this has a chance of working out.

Because not only can I hack it, I can do it without fail. I can do it without complaint, with my mind keenly tuned to what is being asked of me, while creatively helping to solve problems left and right.


Yesterday's work involved some graphing and I am proud of myself for not losing it with this one girl who is a non stop complainer. She was lackadaisically chopping at the wall of the unit with her trowel and her work looked terrible. (That's when I got to get in there and clean up her section, woohoo!) We were getting ready for photo clean, which is when it's cleared out, sprayed with water, and labelled for photos. Then everyone get's back to the less pretty excavation. But she was just being a PITA and I could not believe she is seriously hoping to pursue a career in this and complaining all the way. WHY do it if you don't love it?? There are a thousand other careers that are more lucrative fo' sho'. BAs in archaeology make $12/hour, MAs make about 35K per year. We are not here for the money, people.


That chick also said she doesn't "do the metric system" and when we were graphing elevations I (the newbie) had to explain in VERY basic terms that the height of the total machine must be subtracted from the reading and that it's based on the NAVD (North American Vertical Datum, 1988), and then the number John's shouting out to us from across the woods matches with the coordinate points I'm reading to her from the unit... And she's been out here every day for weeks and weeks. I JUST GOT HERE. I mean, really.


Oh but I am LOVING every minute. The heat is nothing to me, I just feel so lucky to be here. Imagining how filthy we'd be at the Yukon field school (living in tents for 8 weeks). At least here I can come back to the apartment equipped with wifi, house cats, and hot running water...


As far as my home-situation, and the loneliness:-\ I guess maybe it's getting better?

John was really pleasant and happy to see me on Sunday night. Monday at work we were fine, then he got drunk Mon night and was just mean. Tuesday my feelings were still smarting, so I was distant w/ him while working side by side, and Tuesday night he had to go to work (Starbucks, I don't blame him for feeling crabby) and didn't say more than 3 words to me between then and Wed morning. But the weird thing is that in the field he's cracking jokes NON stop and making voices all day long. And then at home, sullen.

Anyways, Wednesday night we actually hung out and watched a Scottish sitcom for a few hours and played Scrabble and laughed and argued.


Funny, though, his perpetual gloom cloud really puts other people in perspective. Everybody seems cheery by comparison!

Still missing my kiddos and my friends and my house with my bed and my pillows and the plumerias and the crazy squirrels outside and the familiarity. I def know which way my compass' arrow points for home, and I relish longing for home again and again.

ANOTHER reason to trust your instincts

Oh, I am half yearning for the gumption to say what I want to right now, and half happy enough that I have the restraint to hold my tongue. I don't want to burn bridges, ya know. I'll tell this story as a parable, make of it what you will.


I went to the Rays game with my friend (woo! 10-9, Toronto can just GO HOME!). Let's call him Matt. And he was, like, reaaally inebriated.

In the past few months he'd been trying to get me to hang out and I kept putting it off or whatever because I had this sinking feeling that he only wants one thing, even though his whole song and dance is all "Oh my gosh, we have an amazing deep connection, let's get crazy and find the Tao, etc".

And let me just say that I wasn't at all wrong to be suspicious. Sigh. And then I made a comparison between myself and a Tibetan monk, in order to illustrate my level of availability for anything beyond the platonic.

summer essentials for those without televisions

My bike is looking particularly smug today, with new fenders, grip tape, tubes, and tune up. And a couple of smart looking pannier bags. Helen and I reflected last night on how strange it was that I went from riding 50 miles/week to Not At All. I can only blame my own laziness to have the tune up/repairs made.

Speaking of cycling, Le Tour has started. Did you happen to catch any of the time trials on Saturday? I was at my friend's house so I got to actually see as Cancellara took the yellow jersey for the first stage, and Lance Armstrong's time was pushed back to tenth or so.

I'm t.v.-less here at home but there letour.fr for updates. It's just really a lot more interesting watching live video than reading the live updates.

And did I mention here how I've been meeting my mom for tennis lately? (she's REALLY good by the way, and considering how she's more than twice my age... yeh) And my tennis gear fits in my pannier bags, lol. Who's enjoying all of this Free Unstructured Time?

trying to head this off at the pass

I really want to be more zen, and instead I am stressing and lame.

Maybe it's post-wedding blues? Maybe it's from drinking a lot?

I cried at the ceremony when (the insanely gorgeous) Simon Tetelbaum started things off with the kindest words ever spoken. I cried when Mr. Gus spoke up and said that he and and his wife "give this woman away".




I shed a tear when John and Laurie danced their first dance, and then later on, I cried when I accidentally texted Tom my ex, when I had intended to text Helen. That was actually really really not good. I was fairly drunk by then, being who knows how many glasses in to John's rad punch and a few glasses of champagne and white wine as well. But it was mostly happy crying.

This is the level of merriment we are talking about: There was blood on the dancefloor at one point (before anyone had dropped a champagne glass), and we were just like "everyone ok?? alright, party on!".

By 3 am there were tuxedo shirts and dresses strewn here and there all over the deck. Folks hit the hot tub, pool, and The Gulf of Mexico armed with nothing but full bottles and gallon size zip-lock baggies of leftover gourmet hors d'oeuvres.

Laurie (bride), James Wight (friend from the groom's side), and I closed the party out around 5 am on Sunday morning. We were talking art and philosophy until we finally fell asleep in the living room (minus Laurie, lol) of this incredible beach house... however I was awoken twice between then and 8 am.

The second time it actually involved me. I just had to go move my car a few feet so someone could get out. That should be really simple (right??), and grabbed my keys, and dashed out barefooted, and still in my sexy floor length black dress.

NOTE: I left the gate of the beach house ajar so that I could get back in and go back to sleep as soon as I was done. Sleep deprived, yes. Stupid, no.

And then, while I was in my car, someone else came out and slammed the gate shut. Seriously. I thought about climbing over the (sharp metal) gate, except I was in the gown and had no underwear on (long story,but not what you think). So I had to go on a long walk to find a condo building that had a beach access gate unlocked. At 8 am. In a black floorlength gown.

Back to the couch. I wanted to sleep but then it was just a lost cause.

We found one person in a house of 20 occupants who had 4 Advil (worth their weight in GOLD) and went out for a stylish post wedding breakfast. All the while, I had on my bravest face, but inside I was slowly melting down.

Now, a whole day out (is that all?? geez) and I am marginally better.

I have to go pack, though. I'm leaving, on a jet plane, for another damn wedding.

Scripps National Spelling Bee

We're still watching it, in bits and pieces. There are all these interruptions like having to sleep and eat, geez. ;)


Anyways, I'm eagerly anticipating being able to watch the last couple of hours of the Bee, however I don't know when that will be. I'm going to go pick up Conn in Pinellas Park now, then zip back over here to get ready for a BBQ at the Bohler household.

Tonight, we're celebrating the eve of the ever-elegant-Laurie's wedding. Then back home with my kids to put them to bed. Tomorrow, I'm babysitting Avery and taking my kids to a little birthday party and then back home to get ready for the beach wedding.

My dress is an absolute masterpiece while still being casual enough to get more use out of it... but I still need to do my nails and so on. I'd like to squeeze in more time at the gym, too, but there are only so many hours in the day! :(

je pense, tu penses, il, pense...

One of the best reasons to have a roommate is having someone to practice foreign languages with. Helen, thankfully has studied as many of years of French as I have, and has the same sort of interest that I do in recapturing and retaining it.

We've been busy bees here, playing with Rosetta Stone (thanks a million, Lloyd!), watching French movies, reading en francais, listening to tapes, etc.


Here's what I think works, and what doesn't.


5+ years of study YES, WORKS but if 6 or 7 years go by without practice, you lose a lot.

Rosetta Stone Program Yes, helpful. IF you already have the background, I think this is a fun way to refresh your vocabulary. Without the background, good luck. Conjugations are barely covered, if at all!

French In Action video series YES run to the nearest library. Radically good for verbs, adjectives, and nouns.


This week we also watched Jean de Florette and Manon des Sources, two classics.


The book I've been reading is a collection of short stories by various classic French writers, and it's sort of hit or miss. While I liked L'Etranger well enough 9 years ago, now Camus leaves me wanting... something. His plots are not just sparse but invisible. I just finished L'Hote (The Guest), and while I get it, I just don't get it.

Still working on The Atheist's Mass by Balzac. Slow going, that Balzac.


Anyways, it's almost my birthday month. Why did that seem funner before I typed it?

some thoughts

- Trampolines are good clean fun.


- My Grecian sandals are in a sorry state now, seeing as that I BROKE them on the trampoline (2 footwear fatalities in one week now, betwixt Billy and I).


- My back really hurts from moving a stone bench with Lloyd (damn you, stone bench), and I've got numerous bruises and whatnot. Some of them seem to be from Wednesday night, however I have no idea what caused them.


- The Mr. didn't go jumping with us last night, which was fine with me. I took it in stride; nothing personal. But we are scheming for Fort De Soto for Sunday, and I want (need?) him to materialize for that. Plus, I want to tell him about my sandals, and about Mike and Amy making out, and about all this fairly boring stuff.


- So, to that end, I am going to go write a paper. So that I can be free for beach time fun tomorrow!

the one where I didn't do anything excessively stupid

Instead, it's the one where Lloyd cooks a mean steak dinner, we all go to the beach in the middle of the night, and nearly lose 2 pairs of (really nice) sandals. It's the one where Billy gallantly says that at least mine were recovered, and that's good enough for him.

It's the one where we end up sleeping on my livingroom floor, although Lloyd offers us the couch. And in the morning, I dash out for a bit to take the kids to school and come home to finally squeeze in some alone time with the bf.


Thank goodness I get along so famously with the ole college buddy, because I'm quite sure he's going to be around for nearly all of our 'couple time' while he's in town.

writing my paper today

Wish me lots of luck. While this is fascinating work (basically writing an Anthropology paper, however since it's for World Religions, I'm using MLA not AAA format, but such is life), there are only so many hours in the day.

Foolishly, I was so embroiled in the whole 'what's going on with my boyfriend?' thing that I forgot to start this project earlier in the week. Or I just wanted the adrenaline rush of doing it all now?

Eh, well it'll be an easy enough paper to write. I've chosen to outline the basic tenets of the Patchakuti Mesa carrying tradition. By that I mean I will discuss the Mesa as a representation of the shaman or carrier's Universe, how humans function as conduits of healing energy, Sacred Reciprocity, and the Eagle and Condor myth.

Either way, I'm happily employed by it now and also feeling emotionally secure.

We had a nice night in, last night, and I needed to hear that Billy had been thinking about us and that while he was in Spring Hill all day on Saturday working, what he really wanted to be doing was patching things up with me.

So we did. He cuddled me extra tight while we laughed at The Daily Show. We got improvisational and wrote a couple of little songs together. We slept in a tangle, like puppies.

I want to have a sexy dance party/sock hop

One where everyone contributes a song or two to the playlist (prob ahead of time), one with drinks, and wild times, and where a bunch of my friends who have never met can finally hangout together.

We can have a twist contest and black lights in the living room. There can be a prize for most the rockin dance, too.


What do you think, would you come? (It would be in a few weeks, btw)

facebook drama with grown ups (rolling eyes)

I put my foot in my mouth frequently, it seems.

And when I do it online, it's so much less... savory.

so... I hung out with the bf's twin sis last night

And it was great :-) She and her husband were just as cool as Bill had said (no, I take that back- they were even better). Their precious little cub was sleeping, even while we rocked out with some karaoke game for PlayStation, but she and I exchanged contact info and plan on getting the kids together sometime soon. And before we left there, plans were made to hangout with his parents sometime soon. HE WANTS ME TO MEET HIS PARENTS ? It was actually going to be today, but instead due to the drizzly cold weather, we dozed late into the day and are going to do it some other time.


It's ironic, considering that I had been thinking that maybe I had misunderstood how he felt about us, even though we've already 'defined the relationship' and both said that it's NOT just a casual thing, etc.

Well, Friday night, hanging out with Mike (the mutual friend who introduced us, but that I have a little bit of a casual history with) kind of set the stage for my paranoia. He asked what was new with me, and I gave the rundown; school and work are good, the kiddos are good, and things are good with 'Billy and I'... etc.

And then HE SAID: Oh, I didn't know you guys are dating! You guys are really a couple?

a few minutes later: Funny, Billy never mentioned that to me...

and then: Are you guys exclusive? Are you sure?

I brushed it off as nothing, and we had a fun night regardless, but later it crept up on me. Are we exclusive? Is he serious about me? Am I sure? I thought so, but Mike had gotten me all paranoid!

And then, yesterday, right in the midst of me pouring out these saaaaad, saaaad thoughts to Helen, Bill called and said he wanted me to meet his sister.

So there we are, having a crazy time at karaoke night, and a semi-alone moment presented itself for me to mention the stuff that Mike had brought up, and Billy suddenly grabbed me in this full-body-possibly-verging-on-humping-my-leg kind of hug and said "HELL YES, WE'RE EXCLUSIVE!! (then, with silly singing) You're my girl..." followed by some dangerously wonderful looks.

seems like all good stories start with two monks that went walking

How timely that we're covering Buddhism in my World Religions class; I've been needing to reaffirm my philosophies lately. Yes, I know suffering is caused by desire. I know that is the nature of living, and I accept it, but I still haven't perfected the Middle Way, between self denial and self indulgence. This whole "my car is DEAD" thing could have bothered me more, but I barely broke a sweat. I just accept it as an event, a chance to ride my bike more, walk more, and spend more time at home organizing and whatnot. It's not too hard for me to let go of material things I already have when the time comes, but it has taken practice (which was painful at the time). It all just disintegrates, anyways. It's pure physics.

The buying of a new car, however, is fraught with potential-anguish-pitfalls. Desire leads to suffering. Maybe that sad feeling I have inside when I think about the gorgeous Acura that I saw on craigslist and decided was MEANT FOR ME (but sold while I was on my way over to test drive it) is a good example of this; that car carries with it a certain amount of status, that I now feel like I can't attain. I desired that particular car and I am disappointed. That sadness manifested itself through a snowball of childish, covetous thoughts and behaviors; wanting to feel important, wanting to take Helen for a ride in my mom's car before returning it (to impress?), stopping impulsively for ice cream, checking my phone a million times to see if I got a reply to a certain text message. The end feeling to all of this was depression! At least I saw it coming.

Aside from shiny cars, only personal-life stuff is freaking me out right now. I can't help but fear that Bill isn't in fact being genuine about how he feels, because that's apparently what Brian was up to. And Tom.

But a new acquaintance told me a cool story of two monks who went walking, and it really helped. Moral of the story: let it go, and keep walking.

Two traveling monks reached a river where they met a young woman. Wary of the current, she asked if they could carry her across. One of the monks hesitated, but the other quickly picked her up onto his shoulders, transported her across the water, and put her down on the other bank. She thanked him and departed.

As the monks continued on their way, the one was brooding and preoccupied. Unable to hold his silence, he spoke out. "Brother, our spiritual training teaches us to avoid any contact with women, but you picked that one up on your shoulders and carried her!"

"Brother," the second monk replied, "I set her down on the other side, while you are still carrying her."

in case you wanted a follow up on that thing (that I was embarrassed about)

So, a few days ago I went out with one of the people I had been chatting with from the (ugh) online dating site.

If you remember, I was originally a little freaked out by the stigma (despite the convenience of browsing), but that was quickly replaced with a sense of calm content demise.

Not in the worst possible sense, rather in the best way possible. Like, perhaps I am DESTINED to carry on for the next 80 years with no notable male companionship (assuming destiny of some sort exists)?

Or maybe I'm not completely uninteresting/unappealing and maybe there is someone out there who could appreciate me, etc (and now I'm assuming alot, perhaps)?

Doing the online dating thing seemed like a good way to attempt to prove either of those possibilities right/wrong. And, don't get me wrong, I have a kick ass plan for being unattached for the next 80 years if need be (including many adventures, and when I can no longer climb mountains and pitch tents, I could be living in a chic apartment in Paris with my old-maid-side-kick, Helen), so that's definately not some sort of tragedy.

OK, maybe none of this makes sense. Back to the story?


So, after half a semester of chatting with SmartGuy, we figured we should meet up before school picks up again, as he has the wicked habit of taking 18+ credit hours per semester (!!).

Dude, this guy talked anthropological CIRCLES around me. And he knows more about modern art, Nobel prize winners, current events, cooking, and scientific discoveries of the 16th century than he does about anthropology. A few years ago, he spent his time studying opera, then he got bored of that and got his CNA... he hopes to someday join Doctors Without Borders.

Oh, and for fun he does "guy stuff" like ride bikes and work on interesting projects around the house.

So, after tea, we went out for sushi (at Kiku, yep my favorite sushi spot), which is always fun. And, Nick Bollea (Hulk Hogan's son) sat next to me, oddly enough.


Here's the potentially most surreal part of the whole thing: this guy (30 yo) has never drank alcohol in his life. "Clean living..." is his motto.


Here's the caveat- I doubt he could really say much about me after that date... Well, maybe. I don't know. Maybe that's because there's not much to say?

He had manners, but I only really feel comfortable revealing personal information when an actual opportunity arises (like if someone asks me a question about myself), and eh, I don't know, I don't interrupt to brag about myself, I interrupt to add something to the discussion, or to disagree.

To say ANYTHING about myself, I have to feel like the other person is REALLY listening. I hate to have to repeat any of it down the road; I find talking about myself wholly unsavory and embarrassing. Except on my blog, where I do it to no (apparent) end.


SmartGuy: 4 out of 5 stars, we could definately be friends

me: feel like a dolt, hopefully this passes

coming clean: my double life

Being a mom is the greatest thing I never expected to be doing with my life. This holiday season, in particular, has been rife with festivities celebrating the children in this household. Maybe for the first time, this year, I really got it. Taking a multi-cultural approach makes perfect sense for us, since we don't particularly subscribe to any one set of beliefs. And it all really makes sense when you step back a little, and get a wider view.

For example, did you know that Buddhists set up alters in their homes at this time of year to celebrate their decendents, complete with sweets, miniature figurines, small gifts, and candles.

It's all been a reminder to me to be more gentle with my kids (I tend to be a little harsh sometimes), to focus on them more, and to involve them in everything that "has to be done", from taking the jar of kitchen scraps out to the compost pile, to making gifts.



Ah, but heres the double life bit- my Christmas involving the kids is over. It's 11:45 pm on Christmas Eve, and I am off the proverbial hook.

After dinner at my mom's house, their dad came to pick them up to take them to Inverness for a perfectly country Christmas, and now all that's left to do on Christmas is to go to the beach, drink pink sparkly wine, watch movies, and sleep all day tommorrow (if I choose to).

In actuality, there will be some of that, but also some knitting, some music, and some reading; I was given a great book this year, by my roommate who knows me so perfectly.

an exercise in cultural, er, studies

I learned something cool, so it must be shared:

The appropriate Roman holiday greeting is "Io, Saturnalia!" (pronounced Yo!).



Yesterday was pretty grand; I slept in till after noon, I went for a solitary bike ride shopping expedition to the used book store, and then went back home to clean a bit for the RAD festive gathering we are having tonight.

After the cleaning and errand running, I went visiting in Largo (hi Kimmi!!), and then got back home just in time to enjoy Helen practicing piano and to open the door for my friend, future colleague, and fellow anthropology enthusiast.

Here's to dranking, discussing (arguing?) toasting each other's good health, and ringing in the season in the appropriate manner, io.

I went all the way to Orlando, and all I got was this...

(actually very nice) tee shirt! It says "Keep It Wheel", hee hee.

No, seriously, it was a complete surprise to me.

Tee shirts were handed out for first, second, and third place, as well as "dead last" and "fell flat on his face". I got the prize for donating extra food. Woo! Not dead last, and I didn't fall on my face!! :D

And actually, that's not all I got. I got to spend time doing something for a good cause, socializing with people I'm newly acquainted with, meeting some new people, having a great time riding (the weather was amazing, the food at Etho's was really good, and we all drank beer and hung out for a while after the race).

Oh, but folks, thats not the end of the story.

There's a MORAL to this tale.

A girl I know offered to drive, and I took her up on her offer. NOTE: I would have been fine driving myself. I have a bike rack on my car for this very purpose.

We agreed that we'd be coming home that same day. NOTE: I had agreed to go to those parties because I was going to be coming home Saturday evening.

After several additional factors came into play, she made a split-second-cross-4-lanes-of-interstate-traffic to drive to SOME GUY'S house in Orlando, some guy she doesn't even really know that well, and who was a complete stranger to me, announcing that she was not, in fact, driving me back to Pinellas Co. as planned.

I was actually almost relieved she wasn't driving, because her road rage had came out of hiding to the point where she was being extremely agressive, not to mention rude, to other cars, and even pedestrians (all with the bikes on the back of her SUV)!

She had decided we could "crash there" because she was too exhausted and hungry to go home.

However, I had no intention of staying there. I offered to drive (she said no), I suggested we stop for food and coffee (she was not interested), until I finally started calling madly for train/bus info, but by this time, all the ticket offices were closed.

NOTE: I could have gotten a ride with any number of people from Etho's, if I had known she'd flip out... Many of them live over this way, and were driving back, too.

ADDITIONAL NOTE: I could have purchased a Greyhound bus or train ticket right there in downtown Orlando if I had known!

I was livid, to say the least.


Anyways, my bike and I did make it back home last night, thanks to the timeless strength of the bonds of friendship. My roommate called a friend in Orlando who came and rescued me and brought me back here, in exchange for our couch to sleep on, and my promise to make breakfast.


Moral of the story: don't go to Orlando with someone you don't implicitly trust.