im not sure, but i think he was teary-eyed when i turned the camera on him all those years ago. he answered my question about the waterfall we were looking at, and then mentioned how cold it was. he looked at the camera, but he was looking at me. i remember that look. i wonder now what he was thinking.

ive thought recently that he still looks the same as the day i met him, now seven years ago. but seeing this video made me realize how young we were then; he looks energetic and sweet, i seem aloof but hopeful. and both of us silly and happy.

a few months after this video, i was heartbroken and he was too, but not because of me. or maybe it was because of me. i regret that nearly as much as i do my own pain; it hurts now to think of how i was, and how he was, both so sad, but him trying to make it up to me in anyway he knew how. and me, too numb to think about him.

now, today, i would like to just smile at our images, and feel no sorrow. im not sure ill ever forget, but i can choose not to remember.

at least for today.

liberating? maybe. its one thing to shower without a curtain, and another thing to shower in the middle of the day without proper blinds on the window. scary, too, this shower, since i keep seeing the spots and dribbles of red paint out of the corner of my eye and starting, thinking for a moment that the splats are blood and have come from me, and my death is imminent.

i realize, of course, in the split-second later, that the red drops are just the signs of the paint job that took place earlier in the day, and as for the lack of curtains and blinds, well those are signs of the laziness of the painter. to be fair, the first paint purchased was faulty and not nearly thick enough to cover the walls, even with several coats. that was worked out and now all that is needed is a few touch-ups and i will get my bathroom reassembled and back to its previously modest state.

blood. thats what i think of when i look at the walls.

a day on the weeki wachee

nearly a week later, and the soreness is just about gone. on saturday, i went kayaking with some friends, even though im not even very good in a canoe - so how could i manage a kayak on my own? either way, i had agreed to go and since ive backed out once before, i figured i should make more of an effort this time.

it made me feel better that two of the guys in our group tipped over within 30 seconds of being on the water... and then again, and one more time. by that time, i was kayaking circles around them. this river is spring-fed, and felt deliciously cool; i would sometimes let my fingers hang in the water, with only slight fears about gators. most parts of the river were clear enough that i could see to the bottom, and the parts that weren't, well, i just sped through those as fast as possible.

ive been on this water several times in the past few years. sometimes in a canoe, sometimes a motorboat, the latter of which, on this day, is the object of my scorn. how lazy is it to take a motorboat on this river? its not very wide, and doesnt really go anywhere special - to a "beach" area on one end, and the gulf on the other side. i could understand heading to the gulf, but more people were heading the other way. anyway, i dutifully allowed them the right of way, more so to avoid any near misses that might result in a tip over.

i ran into all sorts of people. well, maybe just one sort, the sort that hangs out in a bikini (or swimming trunks) all day, with a cigarette and a beer. the sort that puts out signs like "wanted: free-spirited female roommate" and paints murals of florida scenery next to their colorful wicker chairs and bbq grills.

on my way upriver, a duo of canoes passed me; this one was stuffed with about six 20-something guys and one of them slid his glasses down his nose, presumably to get a better view, and said 'well isnt she doing a good job?' even though he was looking at me, the comment was directed to his fellows, so i just ignored it and kept up the rythym of the paddle. a family of four got stuck in the mud, and the curses of the mom followed me around the next bend. when i finally caught up to the speedier ones in my group, i noticed that john, the instigater of this trip, was hanging from a tree, waiting to splash down on the rest of us. of course, his shorts were pretty loud, so he had no chance of actually catching anyone off guard. after i nicely tested the depth of the water with my paddle in the spot he would land, he obliged and waited until i moved out of the way before flying off the branch. nice guy.

i picked up the few soda cans i saw floating in the water along the way, reminded that thats how we used to do it for free when we were younger, although the peace river had a lot more trash, sadly. it also had a lot more gators, and no spots of clear water whatsoever. i tipped over a lot more back then, mainly because of others lack of balance, and a thrill of fear at the memory of being in that murky, brown water, frantic to get back in the canoe went through me. i had never seen any gators on this water, thinking that they wouldnt like it here because of the manatees. somehow it seems like those two wouldnt be in the same neighborhood, but i hear that im wrong on that one.

i finally turn around, muscles burning, and this time i get to go with the current, and the trip back is much more pleasant. i round another bend and a plume of smoke greets me from the deck of a pontoon-style boat. the smoker is a guy with an earring and heavy-lidded eyes, maybe because it doesnt seem like its tobacco he's smoking. he eyes me as i go by, and i hear another comment, again, not directed to me, but about me,which is annoying. "she looks like she needs to get wet." i manage a witty comeback, and speed up the paddling. i come across the family of four again, and the youngest kid tries to scare me with stories about a bull shark being in the area. funny, i had just recalled an incident, from a few years back; a man ran and jumped off his pier into a canal, just like he probably always did, only this time he surprised a bull shark, who was hunting, and the man never made it back out of the water. some of the places along this river look to be harboring sharks and other preditory sea creatures and im thankful to be almost back to the shore.

i did see a manatee, probably a juvenile one, judging from the apparent lack of boat propeller scars on his body. he glided right under me and looking back, i saw his snout surface and heard him take a big breath, and then he was gone again.

all in all, it was relaxing and not nearly as bad as i thought it would be. a boat being driven by a young boy passes by, and attached to it with a long rope is a canoe with another kid inside and to top it all off, an inner tube is somehow connected to the canoe, where the smallest boy rode, his butt through the hole in the tube, looking utterly relaxed. i waited until the boy in the tube, the last in this water parade, drew up next to me, and held out my paddle. 'grab on!', i said. hesitating only a second, he agreed, and i was reminded of my brother at that age. eight years old maybe, and willing to do anything daring and adventurous. i miss that kid.

i laughed and waved him on. my landing was just ahead.

on a rare cool morning, instead of being inside with my coffee, i took it to the porch. a few days ago i had scattered sunflower seeds for the birds and it seems this morning those seeds have been discovered. a small female cardinal chirps conversationally to the large jay who is also seed gathering. a few other cardinals stop by, and then fly off when either i make a noise with my cup or bear's mournful cry of frustrated hunting is heard.

i didnt realize the jay had a call like that and when i check online, its a little different from what the bird call website plays for me. i hear another unfamiliar cry and walk carefully to the other side of the porch just in time to see the tail of a mockingbird heading towards the neighbor's house. its song sounds like he once was close friends with a parakeet or another kind of parrot.

i hear the breeze more than feel it, and although it is a soft, soothing sound, its not enough to mask the rumbling of the traffic only one block over. the jay grabs a berry from the holly (wait, no, chris said its not a holly tree; either way, the berries are bright red) and cocks its head at me. maybe i was too close since he dropped the berry and flew off to the cedar amid the hedgerow. some needle-like leaves of the cedar blow to the ground, looking like a small, slanted rain storm and the spanish moss is at the mercy of even the slightest movement of air. the jay has disappeared into its branches.

bear, no longer able to contain his wild side, puts his ears back and crouches. an unsuspecting puppy emerges from the door, looking in every direction but the way that bear lies. he takes this chance to attack and the silence of the porch is broken.

i finish my coffee inside.

devil bush may be, but why does chavez sound like a woman?

warning: post is all about food and may induce cravings

there are few things that i enjoy more than an afternoon cooking or baking, or both, like i did today. most often i enjoy best the recipes ive never tried before, and comparing them to the slowly-growing store of culinary knowledge already in my head. for instance, why boiling water in gingerbread? but boil it i did, and the gingerbread turned out moist, with a cake-like crust, nothing at all like the kind we had in grasmere. i also wonder about the difference between baking soda and baking powder - both act as a leavening agent, right, giving cakes and cookies that nice rise in the oven. this recipe called for both, and though i think it meant powdered ginger, i used fresh, grated with my most useful tool, the microplane grater.

while the bread was baking, i started on dinner, pork with roasted tomatoes. i have recently come to appreciate the lovely flavor of balsamic vinegar and this recipe called for just a few tablespoons poured over my favorite fruit, tomatoes. add a small romaine salad (no spinach until the e. coli scare is over) and dinner is served.

the best part about cooking and baking for only yourself? you can enjoy a peice of gingerbread and a cuppa tea before you eat dinner.

quit work for a year: 7 steps to do it right

this was the headline of an article on msn that caught my attention. of course, they call what ive done a 'sabbatical', which makes me wish i had thought of that title sooner. the article lists some good tips, but most of them involve selling off your assets or taking from a retirement fund; since they also call it a mini-retirement, that makes sense. research has found that more and more people are taking time off from work and once they have had a few months or even a few years away, they dont necessarily want to go back to that high-paying job - they gravitate to jobs that pay less and are more altruistic. in other words, life has more meaning when you arent concerned about how much money you make and you arent giving your life to a corporation that really has no loyalty to you whatsoever. of course, easier to say that than to actually do it.

im in my 14th month, so perhaps im qualified to give my own tips on how to quit work for a year. maybe i should specify: how to quit work for a year (if you are single with no attachments).

i was explaining to one girl that i dont know very well my situation and as i was saying how i had moved to live cheaper, she said knowingly 'ah, so your parents are taking care of things for you.' my laugh probably sounded like a cackle; i couldnt help it. no, i assured her, i planned for this time off. not that my parents wouldnt help me if i got in a bind, but this is my life and if i choose not to work, then i surely will have to have another way to pay for my expenses, one that does not involve my parents.

still, im proud of what ive done in my time off. ive been able to visit family as far away as OR and TN, go to a few weddings in AL, see the birth of my niece in TN, visit HI for the first time and even threw in an international trip to england and scotland, the latter being a place ive dreamed of going to for years now.

but, i must admit, its more than the trips im proud of...

i was going through my closet the other day and i discovered an old sweater i used to wear quite a lot. i held it up to the light, critically examining the seams and looking for any stains. i wasnt too sure why i kept it, seeing that there were two stains on the front and a hole in the right underarm; or perhaps i did know, since it had been an old favorite of mine. probably a thrift store find from the start, its really not much to look at - light green, and a little beagle patch on the upper left side. i looked at the tag and it explains the puppy; hush puppies brand, though i only remember them making shoes.

after a little laundry magic, the stains are gone. now i just need to find a needle and thread.

its like being reunited with an old friend.

there is a neighborhood cat we've named aang - he loves being scratched behind the ears and makes liberal use of his paws and claws when you stop too abruptly. it used to be that i would only see him every once in awhile, and even then, he would more likely run away than let me say hello. lately though, hes been at the backporch, mewing plaintively to come inside or to have a snack or to be rubbed - or all of those things at once. i think hes gotten into a rough spot lately; his eye is swollen and scratched and then the next day he shows up with a bit of fur missing from behind his left ear. now his meow has left him, or perhaps he just has a sore throat.

bear in particular loves to watch him through the backdoor. i tell bear that aang is our "outdoor kitty" and cant come in.. and then when aang drinks from the water garden instead of the dish i left for him, i explain that he must prefer the pond water to tap water. bear only moves to the window sill to get a better look.

no more talk about the old days, its time for something great

never was a cornflake girl

i regarded the small, bright green tin, the light reflecting cheerfully off its shiny surface. i put it back because money is a concern of mine these days, but then, still under its spell, picked it up again and put it in my cart. later, once arriving home, i unpacked all the groceries until all that remained was the green tin, looking just as shiny and lovely as it did in the store. i found a place for it on the bathroom shelf.

at my parent's place, i scan the countertop of my mother's bathroom. there are bottles everywhere, various lotions and toners, in many different sizes, ranging from sample to travel to regular to jumbo. there is a small ceramic dish filled with several lip balms - i remembered at this point my moms recent trek to find the perfect balm for her lips; one struck my fancy, red in color and a small picture of a badger on the front, and i tried it out. a bit spicy, that one, but nice. i held onto it as i finished looking around, tipping bottles and tubes upward so i could read their ingredients and claims. a lot of herbal lotions, with cloying scents and cosmetics made from natural substances. 'tomato toner' i read, noticing the small bottle was nearly empty. i took one last envious glance around and left the room, balm still in hand.

'hey, mom, where'd you get this from? its pretty good.' i held up the small tin, the badger on the front looking mischeivious, and she, true to form, said 'cant remember, but you can have it if you want.' i feigned reluctance, even as i put it in my bag. my mom, ever the generous soul, usually gives away the things she searches so hard to find, since they never equal up to her expectations.

im a lot like her, i think, as i went thru my own ritual of personal hygiene before bed. a sucker for new products and old ones, too, always searching and trying new things to sooth the skin or the hair - to smooth out perceived flaws. sometimes i find something that seems to work a miracle; my face is tolerable to look at, my hair is behaving like hair should or even my feet seem more polished, like i spent the day at the beach.

but everytime, the products wear off and i am left with who i am, and only sometimes, do i feel happy with that.

girl, you got to know these days which side you're on

'momma, it wasnt my bullet.'

i catch sight of bear, reflected in the glass from the front door, silently stalking a fly. 'boys for pele' plays in the background while i put the hardware back on the cabinet doors i painted yesterday. i count the number of half-turns of the screwdriver it takes to get the job done, painfully aware that my arm strength is either very low, or these are particularly tough screws, with their slightly worn heads. a red car keeps screaming up and down my street, turning up more dust to cling to the screen of the front porch.

'glue, stuck to my shoes'

to combat a spell of loneliness, i do NOT advise looking through old school yearbooks. all i can think is, as i scan the book from the year i graduated, did they really do their bangs like the 80's in 1994?? and how i was way before my time with the good hair. anyway, its not that i had a great time in high school, but it wasnt all bad. waiting to see the guy(s) i had a crush on pass me in the hallway, having lunch with friends who you could say anything with and impressing the teachers with my knowledge (or lack thereof)... still, reading these goodbye comments from people i never saw again, stirs a bit of feeling - so i thought i would post a few for a laugh. note: while the names have been omitted to protect their identity, the spelling mistakes, alas, have not.

there are many boring ones, with typical statements of how far ill go in life, and a lot of luck being wished. nothing exciting from the brown haired mechanic guy with the dark glasses and the romantic name of clark (sigh). one really long one from a girl who thought i wrote a poem about her in the 8th grade because showed it to her.. and uh people, it was a love poem. yeah, so you can guess she got all sappy on me. really, its good i was much smarter than her and didnt have the same classes. (i cant leave this paragraph without saying the girl was really sweet and although i dont really remember the specifics about the poem incident, i can assure i did not write it for her. still, one takes friends were one gets them.)

stephanie, ill always remember sitting next to you at the lunch table (doing crossword puzzles, writing your summary, doing crossword puzzles) and yes you finally got your senior pictures taken before i did. dont forget 'all for one, one for all'. i wish you the best and ill miss you. {didnt really think i did them that much.. and whats the deal with the three musketeers thing? memory fails me}

stephanie, so how has emily [my sister] been lately? you are the only girl i know that likes to play with a knight made from legos. good luck after graduation and i hope you excell in what you want to become. {so this lego infatuation is not a new thing with me... and secretly a bunch of guys in my grade had the hots for emily and would always ask me about her.}

stephanie, you are a great friend and i hope we stay in touch in the future. i will never forget your idea of the tunafish with cheese and mustard sandwich, but will probably never try it either. {i was a culinary experiementer even then}

steph, i know when you look back at this in ten years your going to realize how much you were really in love with me. too late. cya. {oh god im too late}

the 2nd grader i sponsered was the most practical. she left her name and address. think i should look her up now? wait, shes probably in college by now. shucks.

stephanie, well what can i say youre a stephanie you have such a long name... {rest omitted since it goes on in this fashion for awhile}

to a cool girl, with cool clothes {what?! i never thought the clothes were cool} and an even cooler sis {well i always knew that}. hope you aspire to be what you want to be {okayyy}. good luck in the futcher (thats edukation for you in the states.)

and my personal favorite. where is this guy now??

dearest stephanie, i am thankful that i had the chance to meet you this year, but i wish that i could have known you sooner. you have been delightful to know and ill cherish the experience always. as we should all remember some part of higher wisdom, i found some that holds true to you. remember 1 peter 3:3-4: "your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of a great worth in God's sight." for me, your wit outshines all others and your personality shines like a fine jewel. keep this wisdom close to your heart, and remember me warmly.

oh sure, you write that in all the girls yearbooks... warmly indeed. im glowing.

you know what i did today? i applied for a job. hold on, actually, no, i just looked. but applying sounded so much more, you know, responsible. and then i took pictures of myself in a new jacket. wait, that was yesterday. either way, that jacket rocks.

there is bear, skulking on the shelf. and then lounging on the bed, taking a break from either chewing the book or seeing how many holes he can put in my blanket. he seems innocent in the mirrors reflection, but i see he is only planning his next move.

and they say blue is a soothing color..

bear and those looks of his.. or maybe hes just mad because it hurts for him to sit on the paint that comes with the dexter's laboratory coloring book. the dresser.. can you guess how many tee shirts are lurking within those drawers?

bear sits on my coloring book everytime

its hard to get back to blogging; i hope this one actually makes it to posting, unlike the previous 2 i attempted since being stateside. i am as i usually am - unpacking and in my customary disarray. one suitcase has been emptied, a rare feat to be done so soon, while the other one, the bigger one, sits in the middle of the floor, its only use being a place for a catnap. wow, thats a lot of commas.

the bedroom color is great and because its freshly painted, i am inspired to make my room nice and tidy. so i made the bed, picked up the clothes and straightened up here and there. i rediscovered my collection of coloring books. seriously, one is 15 years old. i think i can definitely call it a collection at this point, vintage perhaps? one part of me says to keep them; im bound to babysit at some point and how priceless would it be to have the exact coloring book to pacify an antsy neice or nephew? invaluable, i tell you. but that line of reasoning gets murky when i use it for the other "immature" things i own - the bucket (or two) of legos, the action figures (never opened) and the (few) comic books. oh and the simpsons block figures - sorta look like legos, but boxier. and when these things merely take up space, not being enjoyed, i have a feeling it may be time to let go.

its a recurrant thing with me these days, i know.

it seems i will whittle my belongings down to a tee shirt and shorts, a few meaningful books, my pc and ipod... once those things are gone too, there will be nothing left to discard but myself.

at least i can make some money off the action figures.