Overtaken

Staring out the back door at a world neglected...
The tendrils of vine twirl and wind their way to freedom -
Up the fence posts and along the ground.
I wish they'd come for me,
Creep right up the sidewalk and inside,
Overtake me, choke me out...
The sound of the tree crickets slowly fading with the light
Until it is night.

Some like it hot.

The other day I was making a fabulous pasta sauce to put on our ravioli. I opened the cupboard to grab the appropriate spices when something caught my eye - my cayenne pepper!!! It was completely INFESTED with flour beetles. I stood there for several minutes, examining the intricate tunnels leading up from the burrows filled with wiggly little white larvae. I could even see a few in the pupal stage. The surface of the cayenne was littered with empty exoskeletons, the sides of the glass streaked with beetle poo. Adults crawled to and fro amongst the debris, up to the lid (stupid flip top would never stay closed). Some had even relocated to the neighboring chili powder (this lid also refuses to stay closed). I wonder why they chose such spicy homes... The lid to the cinnamon won't stay closed either and there were no beetles in there... Hmmm... I stood pondering this until Becky demanded I throw it out because she was completely disgusted. As she probably should be. I am a nerd. But I'll have you know that flour beetles do not carry disease nor do they really do any harm! The End.

I don't have an appropriate photo for this...for once! So, here's a ladybug:

How did I get here?

I had good intentions. I always did... And now I wonder how the hell I ended up here where I'm at.

It was a month-long road trip through the country of South Africa the summer before my senior year that gave me purpose. Away went my childhood vision of becoming a veterinarian and now I wanted to save the world. It's not to say that veterinarians don't have purpose - I am still quite fond of this profession. I just wanted to make some kind of global impact...I know it sounds like a lofty goal and I can assure it doesn't stem out of some sort of large ego. I don't know, somewhere along the line I got this idea that one should always extend themselves to the general benefit of humankind.

Anyway, aside from spectacular views, a collection of photos, several bottles of wine, and new friends and experiences, the most powerful thing I took back with me was the image of driving out of a small town that we stopped in for a travel break - the view of a cemetery with rows upon rows of fresh graves. There were three funerals going on simultaneously. AIDS. It hits the isolated towns the hardest with possibly half the population infected (a statistic from my professor, can not confirm with a source). I went home with a plan. I retook immunology, the bane of my college existence (I withdrew the first time), meeting moderate success the second time around. If only I knew then what I know now...

I graduated and applied for a job in HIV/AIDS research with my current employer. I was basically assured I had a position there, but it took a while to come through. Meanwhile I was broke and jobless and living rent-free in my family's unkempt log cabin in the woods on the side of a mountain in Harpers Ferry, West Va. My dog was my best friend. And my cousin, Kristen! And several spiders that I refused to evict because they were there first. Oh man, that was the life... Alas, my cousin left to return to school and a 95 year old German woman became my best friend. As you can imagine, I didn't have much in common with a 95 year old woman (and she always tried to feed me sausage). I got a little lonely.

Meanwhile, the job had finally come through. I was really doing this. I learned so much working in the lab on our HIV vaccine studies, I was quite happy for a while. I bought a house in Hagerstown. Why? I am still trying to figure this one out. I had to leave my green mountain home because my car wouldn't survive the winter commute up and down the mountain (learned the hard way). First, I got an apartment in Hagerstown at the suggestion of a boy I was dating (stupid boys) because it was cheaper. Then I guess I bought the house because I was convinced I was paying too much for the apartment (another suggestion from a different boy...dammit). Anyway, it seemed like a good idea at the time. And now I'm stuck.

It's making me rethink everything in my life. I have too much crap, my possessions are dragging me down. I have so many interests in alternative careers, but none of them will support this standard of living that I've created for myself by owning this house. I can't stand living in Hagerstown another day and there isn't a lot I can do about it until I sell this damn thing. On the other hand, I will not lie - I loved the freedom of painting every room a different color, creating my little inside oasis. But I am really missing the simplicity of renting, the feeling of impermanence and less obligation. Or maybe more just the type of life that goes with it. Maybe I should just go back to being jobless and living in the woods...

The Return of Mr. and Mrs. Duck

The first time they came, I thought they were on their honeymoon - the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Duck, back from some sunny southern resort. I mean, don't ducks usually migrate in groups? I guess my backyard pool offered a more private layover than the overpopulated pond at City Park. Oh well, it was March and my pool was still in winter mode, so I didn't mind.

They came back every year. Sometimes they would hang around for a while...I guess they decided pool living was pretty damn good. They would take off when it was time to clean the pool out, only because of the disruption to their daily routine. Of course, within days they would return to the clean sparkling water...much to the boy's dismay. "THE GOD DAMN DUCKS ARE BACK!!!" he'd yell. I would turn and look out the window and smile. I know, I should have probably shared his concerned with the fact that they were shitting in our pool, but hey...isn't that what chlorine is for? Plus, they were usually gone by late June when I'm ready to get in (I am a wuss. It must be hot, hot, HOT outside. And the water must be like, 90 degrees, haha). By then, they were long gone. Back to their northern home, wherever it may be.

Anyway, somehow it didn't make me angry in the least. Quite the opposite, in fact. I liked Mr. and Mrs. Duck - so they came to be known. They were reliable. Even when the pool died and was resurrected, they returned. They didn't seem to mind that their home was now a shallower cheaper version of its former self. Always content were Mr. and Mrs. Duck. Life goes on...

And so this morning, I woke up like any other, bleary-eyed as I fed Quincy. I stumbled out onto the back porch to let him out and paused... There they were. Back in town and pleased as punch, circling around the murky winter pool water with their heads up and chests puffed out. I smiled and thought of two things:

1. In the midst of all the changes in my life during this past winter - good, bad, and wonderful - it is nice to know that some things NEVER change.

2. The force of nature is strong, like the force of love. I can not really explain either of the two, but they are undeniable and they must be intertwined. Even the skeptical scientist in me will admit that.

I am ok with not knowing how or why.

Inversion

I've been thinking...

It's funny how you have to have your world turned upside-down sometimes to wake up. Like how it takes ridiculous gas prices for people to REALLY start talking about how to conserve energy, drive less, buy a more fuel-efficient car, etc. Sometimes it happens on your behalf...sometimes you have to make it happen.

I feel like I need this. I need to make a change, do something. Otherwise you end up frozen and stuck in the same routine. You end up tolerating your conservative asshole neighbors, you end up spending the rest of your life commuting to work, putting your recycling out only to have the dicks that pick it up carelessly litter the street, you end up stepping in poo just off your front porch, being forced to listen to AC/DC 6792569247562956 times a day (every day), Nascar at maximum volume and your drunken redneck neighbor drunkenly singing the NFL-induced Gary Glitter "hey" song every Sunday during football season. You end up trying to make a valiant effort by using your bike as a means for transportation only to have people in cars yell at you to get your "ass out of the fucking road". You end up with like 20 people at your roller derby bout (thanks friends and family!). You're still staring at big hair and acid-washed jeans...??

I can't do it anymore.

By the way, Chris Isaak makes me swoon.

Bye...

The Cheese Nazi

Today was a day of injustice. YES. Injustice, abuse of power, and food rationing. And it's not even noon!

Ondraya and I went to Sheetz for lunch, as we do with a certain frequency since it's so close to work. I generally order the same thing every time - a cheese and veggie sub with lettuce, tomato, green pepper, pickles, black olives, oregano, pepper, salt, and mustard. Said sub comes with three kinds of cheese: provolone, swiss and american. I HATE american cheese with a passion (it's not even real cheese!), so I always verbally request that they substitute cheddar for the american. No problemo.

TODAY. Today was different. Today when I requested my cheddar for american substitution, I was told NO. What??? I stared at the old hag for a second.

"Why not?" I implored, wide-eyed and mystified.

"I can't do substitutions" she said plainly, unapologetically.

"Seriously??? I ALWAYS get cheddar instead of american" I said. This is a normal thing!!! What the hell??? I was starting to panic in my head - I fucking HATE american cheese!!!

"You have to get it the way it says," she replied. "Sorry". Oh, but she was definitely NOT sorry.

"FINE!" I yelled. "WHATEVER!!!!" You may not know this about me, but I am really mature. I mean, clearly.

I angrily stalked the aisles for something else to add to my lunch purchase while relaying the details of my injustice to Ondraya. I couldn't even find anything else I wanted. In a huff, I went to pay for my FUCKING sangwich. The hag called my number and Ondraya grabbed it and handed it to me as I finished paying.

I hoisted the wrapped sandwich high above my head.

"THANK YOU, CHEESE NAZI!!!!!" I yelled. And we left.

Trial and Error

For all of my loyal poop story fans...

As I've written about many times before, work is never a pleasant place to poo. Let's face it, we'd rather take care of THAT business at home. I think we can all agree on that. In my office, we are lucky - we have a secret bathroom. It's like a pooping sanctuary...a true blessing considering that there are only two stalls in our regular womens bathroom. The only downside to the secret bathroom is that, while its good to have a mutual agreement with all of the office ladies that this is where the pooping occurs (some people have yet to catch on...grr...), if you are spotted entering this bathroom, everyone knows what you are likely doing there.

Now sometimes there are other reasons to use this bathroom - it's downstairs near both the front entrance and one of our conference rooms. So, you might be using this bathroom if you are in a meeting... You might also be using this bathroom if you are one of the ladies that takes walks during the day (this bathroom is also a locker/change room). Regardless, I feel its best not to allow people to wonder - so, I always use caution when approaching. I listen carefully for people in the hallway, as I do not want to be spotted entering or leaving the secret bathroom. I also listen for people IN the bathroom...because clearly when you go there to poo, you want to be alone.

Yesterday I had to poo at work. I tried to avoid it...but it quickly became impossible to ignore. I tiptoed down the stairs in super stealth mode...I peered up and down the hallway... I noticed there WAS a meeting going on in the small conference room, so I hurried to the door so as not to be spotted by anyone in attendance - I was golden. However, because I had to rush my entrance, it wasn't until I was IN the bathroom and the door shut behind me that I realized someone was there. *GASP*! It was our super adorable and wholesome receptionist who was freshening up after a walk. D'oh!!! What to do, what to DO... CRAP! I have no idea what I was thinking...but I just walked to the sink and washed my hands. Then I realized - no one in their right mind would actually believe that I had come all the way downstairs just to WASH MY HANDS - there's a bathroom AND a kitchen upstairs!!!! Gah! So I went into a stall, hoping she was on her way out. She ALSO went into a stall. NOOOOOOO!!! I couldn't do it. Not with her there. And I couldn't WAIT because she would totally know that I was waiting for her to leave. So I pissed, washed my hands again and left. FOILED.

About 30 minutes later I made another attempt. The receptionist's desk is right by the stairs, so there is no way I could have gone back down as soon as she came up! She would KNOW. So as I said, I gave it some time and went back down. The meeting was still going on, but other than that, the coast was CLEAR. Jackpot! I went in and did my thing, but in mid-wipe, I suddenly heard voices in the hallway...they were getting closer. "NOOOO," I thought, "Don't come in!" I had about a millisecond of relief when I realized it was a mans voice I was hearing but then it grew MUCH louder and I suddenly realized the bathroom door was open. OH MY GOD...A MAN WAS COMING IN THE WOMENS BATHROOM WHILE I WAS POOPING!!!! "What have I done to deserve this?!" I thought miserably. I was choking back a sob of frustration when as suddenly as it came, the voice disappeared... I guess he realized he was going in the wrong bathroom.

WHEW!!!!