(no subject)
Wrote letters to Dave Chapelle and Harry Belafonte and Barack Obama!
This weekend was a long slew of barbecues. It was so nostalgic to drive around going cahootz with Julia and Ashley with some beer and no place to drink it. Just like in high school. I'm so glad I still love everyone this much...on Saturday the big plans for biking trips out by Harper's Ferry disolved into flopping around in the sun all afernoon and evening. We helped someone move into an absolutely gorgeous house in Hamden (complete with vegetable garden, front porch, neighborhood drunks, and ample star-gazing space on the roof) in which almost all of the furniture and appliances were from the 1940s and 50s but were all in perfect working order. We ended up sleeping in my back yard and flopping around all Sunday as well, with a bad hair cut on the patio to spice things up.
Eventually I made it down to the traditional family picnic down at Gibson Island--it's still a great time. Finally the kids are old enough that I don't get coerced into playing barefoot wiffle ball on gumball-scattered terrain. However, the downside is that the kids are old enough that I don't get coerced into playing barefoot wiffle ball on gumball-scattered terrain. Now the activity of choice is Trivial Pursuit, the cards of which belong to the Soviet Era so my Dad can really give me a swift kick in the seat of the intellectual pants. The fam are the same slightly sour yet hilarious and happy people running around with far too much in the way of money and brains for their own good. I worked on the clinking technicalities of the boat with my Mom and Dad the next day but I didn't last for long in th sun. What a crappy daughter am I. Alex's mother fussed over me at the barbecue--as uncomfortable as it is, it's nice to have adults coo in approval of your plans--it's some sort of an indicator that you at least have direction--not necessarily the right one, but direction nonetheless. At the third barbecue, graced by a number of Quakers, I ended up cutting the hair of a guy who said he'd found a bunch of mushrooms in the woods on an old pile of cow shit. I nearly convinced myself to let a few gorgeous MICA girls cut my locks boy-short in their likeness. I have enough troulbe convincing people I'm not a straight-up lesbian already. I think I would confuse even myself in that regard.
This lifestyle is so new. Waking up in the morning, putting on business casual, and spending sunny days inside is pretty odd...life is still live-able outside of a small circle of 18 to 26 year olds. I'm living in my aunt's enormous house. Gene Kirkpatrick (yes, as in the UN Ambassador) called her today to ask her to the opera, and then I found out that she lives just next door. There are some Kennedys scattered around, for whom I might end up house-sitting. Someone she knew had prime seats for the symphony tonight, so Bill and I really lucked out. I bought a Light Frappuccino in Dupont this morning and yesterday I bought a pair of pants from Target. I am going to really have to take time to be grateful.
A wah wah moment. So I trained all this semester for a marathon, and then got tendonitis the week before. I haven't been able to run in three weeks and it's not getting any better and I feel disguuuusting. This past semester was all about convincing myself that I could do the things I say I'm going to, but now I feel like it's unravelling before my eyes.
I've been thinking a lot about how change is made in the world, and in particular about Tom Fox. It seems like he always seemed to have whatever was within his immediate vicinity in mind--no grand scheme for the betterment of mankind, just benevolence towards those who were within reach.
This weekend was a long slew of barbecues. It was so nostalgic to drive around going cahootz with Julia and Ashley with some beer and no place to drink it. Just like in high school. I'm so glad I still love everyone this much...on Saturday the big plans for biking trips out by Harper's Ferry disolved into flopping around in the sun all afernoon and evening. We helped someone move into an absolutely gorgeous house in Hamden (complete with vegetable garden, front porch, neighborhood drunks, and ample star-gazing space on the roof) in which almost all of the furniture and appliances were from the 1940s and 50s but were all in perfect working order. We ended up sleeping in my back yard and flopping around all Sunday as well, with a bad hair cut on the patio to spice things up.
Eventually I made it down to the traditional family picnic down at Gibson Island--it's still a great time. Finally the kids are old enough that I don't get coerced into playing barefoot wiffle ball on gumball-scattered terrain. However, the downside is that the kids are old enough that I don't get coerced into playing barefoot wiffle ball on gumball-scattered terrain. Now the activity of choice is Trivial Pursuit, the cards of which belong to the Soviet Era so my Dad can really give me a swift kick in the seat of the intellectual pants. The fam are the same slightly sour yet hilarious and happy people running around with far too much in the way of money and brains for their own good. I worked on the clinking technicalities of the boat with my Mom and Dad the next day but I didn't last for long in th sun. What a crappy daughter am I. Alex's mother fussed over me at the barbecue--as uncomfortable as it is, it's nice to have adults coo in approval of your plans--it's some sort of an indicator that you at least have direction--not necessarily the right one, but direction nonetheless. At the third barbecue, graced by a number of Quakers, I ended up cutting the hair of a guy who said he'd found a bunch of mushrooms in the woods on an old pile of cow shit. I nearly convinced myself to let a few gorgeous MICA girls cut my locks boy-short in their likeness. I have enough troulbe convincing people I'm not a straight-up lesbian already. I think I would confuse even myself in that regard.
This lifestyle is so new. Waking up in the morning, putting on business casual, and spending sunny days inside is pretty odd...life is still live-able outside of a small circle of 18 to 26 year olds. I'm living in my aunt's enormous house. Gene Kirkpatrick (yes, as in the UN Ambassador) called her today to ask her to the opera, and then I found out that she lives just next door. There are some Kennedys scattered around, for whom I might end up house-sitting. Someone she knew had prime seats for the symphony tonight, so Bill and I really lucked out. I bought a Light Frappuccino in Dupont this morning and yesterday I bought a pair of pants from Target. I am going to really have to take time to be grateful.
A wah wah moment. So I trained all this semester for a marathon, and then got tendonitis the week before. I haven't been able to run in three weeks and it's not getting any better and I feel disguuuusting. This past semester was all about convincing myself that I could do the things I say I'm going to, but now I feel like it's unravelling before my eyes.
I've been thinking a lot about how change is made in the world, and in particular about Tom Fox. It seems like he always seemed to have whatever was within his immediate vicinity in mind--no grand scheme for the betterment of mankind, just benevolence towards those who were within reach.