I am considering closing down my blog now after two years. I've actually stuck to writing in this weblog longer than I've ever staid with any one career. Now that's what you would call "irony."
Maybe I'm just tired of writing about my life in so public a format, or maybe I'm finally giving in to my own rhetoric about the bastardization of the English language through the use of technology, but no matter what, I know that I am tired of feeling compelled to write on a website that I don't know anyone reads (other than my Masshole, occasionally Yael, and my Mom). It would be just as easy, and a lot more personal, if I just took to handwriting letters to the two or three "readers" I have.
I don't know, we'll see.
In other news, my roommate Corinne took home a stray cat over the weekend. Yup, my apartment is now bedecked with FOUR cats. While I do think that it is incredibly benevolent of her to be actively protecting the lives of our furry little friends, I don't remember being asked if I wanted to turn into a crazy cat lady. And the potential for diseases, fleas, etc., etc., is huge. Even with isolating the kitty in our bathroom, that still leaves us all (including the three cats) open to contamination. I hate to be a hard-hearted, evil crust of a human being, but the kitty needs to go! Corinne promises me she will be on the phone today looking for a shelter for the kitty, but Anthony and I are making bets as to when the cat will actually be out of the house. Any takers?
I also just celebrated my 25th birthday. For most of my friends, who tend to be in the above-30 bracket, that means nothing, but for me, it means I survived a quarter of a century! We celebrated quietly, with a subdued dinner at Mr. Martino's Trattoria in South Philadelphia - Mark even threw in a free bottle of Martinelli's Cider as a gift. Most of the gang was there: Jason, Jimmy, Lisa, Erik, Tom, Javier, Corinne, and Vince (Anthony was delayed due to work, but made up for it the rest of the weekend)... It was good to see everyone sober.
I didn't do anything else all weekend. Anthony made me breakfast two days in a row and we also shared some special romantic time in the apartment on Saturday afternoon; I watched a bunch of Netflix movies; Derek Lee, his girlfriend Kat, and JJ came out to visit me on Sunday afternoon; and Anthony treated me to dinner at Friday, Saturday, Sunday last night (and I just finished the leftovers for lunch today). All in all, it was pretty quiet. Which is exactly the way I wanted it.
And now, there is nothing else I have to say. I'm still looking for that great next job, and planning for the holidays...
Monday, November 22, 2004
Friday, November 19, 2004
Monday, November 15, 2004
Andrew and I spent Saturday night discovering just how low my tolerance for alcohol has really become. Three drinks into our delicately planned evening of sin and debauchery at the eighth annual Fetish Ball and I was already hammered. On Andrew's suggestion, when we left the Ball we headed out to Woody's, one of the premier destinations in the gay-berhood. And we called Anthony to come pick up the pieces.
All day Sunday was ruined for me - ruined I say! The kind of day I had was yet another reminder of why I hardly ever drink anymore. I slept on and off until four in the afternoon, in the hopes of outwitting my hangover, but silly me! My hangover must have lifted sometime during Sunday night, while I was attempting sleep again. And today I feel like I didn't sleep at all while some little sprite beat my body all over with a tiny, sprite-sized baseball bat. Ugh.
So for my birthday this weekend, just like I had originally planned, your favorite girl named Ryan will not be partaking of the alcoholic variety. As the owner of Mr. Martino's promised me a free bottle of Martinelli's Cider for my birthday, I will be partaking of that slightly bubbly beverage instead.
Enough said. I have to go pretend I can make it through Seventy's monthly Board Meeting. Good times had by all, I swear.
All day Sunday was ruined for me - ruined I say! The kind of day I had was yet another reminder of why I hardly ever drink anymore. I slept on and off until four in the afternoon, in the hopes of outwitting my hangover, but silly me! My hangover must have lifted sometime during Sunday night, while I was attempting sleep again. And today I feel like I didn't sleep at all while some little sprite beat my body all over with a tiny, sprite-sized baseball bat. Ugh.
So for my birthday this weekend, just like I had originally planned, your favorite girl named Ryan will not be partaking of the alcoholic variety. As the owner of Mr. Martino's promised me a free bottle of Martinelli's Cider for my birthday, I will be partaking of that slightly bubbly beverage instead.
Enough said. I have to go pretend I can make it through Seventy's monthly Board Meeting. Good times had by all, I swear.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
It's just another day in the office. I have a terrible headache, and have had it since I woke up this morning, so I am in no mood to do any work today. Unfortunately, an office of 3 isn't exactly the kind of situation in which you can totally slack off. People tend to notice things like me trying to catch up on sleep underneath my desk and other such stuff.
Yesterday I had the treat of some lunatic coming into my office and wanting to break into a board meeting so she could get the address of the law library. She thought the meeting sounded too "friendly" - as if that is a reason for her to be rude and interrupt the meeting.
No matter, I got rid of her after a half hour and now it's Tuesday. And it's 30 degrees outside. Yesterday I thought it was cold as I was walking to the gym, but this morning I felt like my head was going to freeze and then crack open (remember the headache?). Not so pleasant.
So what have I been up to lately, eh? Corinne (really, I was barely involved) held a Halloween party at our apartment, at which I only spent an hour before attempting to go to sleep (the elections had me working weeks straight, with no days off). Let me note the key word there: "attempting." At some point, for whatever reason, the party moved from the spacious upstairs living space to the stairwell outside my bedroom door. And drunk people are not quiet so I ended up being awake until about 2AM when I sent poor Anthony out to be my Enforcer. I was so pissed off (mostly due to the fact that I had work in the morning).
Other than that, the past few weeks have been devoted entirely to the elections process here in Philadelphia, where it was my job to organize a crew of volunteers, prepare them for their nonpartisan pollwatching activities, and then loose them on Philadelphia on November 2nd. What a pain in the ass! Need I say more?
This year we had the largest volunteer turnout we've had in the past 30 years or so, which is probably enough to say that it's the largest group of people we've had in the institution's history! I had no idea what I was doing, nor do I now really understand what happened, but it's all over now so I am attempting to recover. I still don't think I've caught up on sleep, and I may potentially be coming down with a cold but I'm fighting it every step of the way like the little hellcat I am.
Last weekend was my first few days off in a while. Just for spite (or perhaps because I really deserved it), I took off Friday as well. So, on Friday, I went to a spa and treated myself to 3 hours of pampering. Anthony had given me this spa certificate when I finished rafting the Grand Canyon (how sweet!), so I returned the favor and got him a drool-filled hour and a half aromatherapy massage (Swedish!). It was his first professional massage ever! (Oddly enough, after practicing for so many years on my mom's feet, I gave Anthony his first first massage - period.) I was so happy to provide him with something so special...
Then we spent the rest of the weekend in NYC, where I did nothing but eat, sleep and watch movies. We saw "Capturing the Friedmans," "Bob Le Flambeur," "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," most of "The Fellowship of the Ring," and then went to the theatre with hundreds of squirmy little children to see "The Incredibles." Oh how I love lazy weekends where my boyfriend cooks for me!
The only other thing to report is the upcoming events (in the case that you're paying attention and actually want to know): this weekend is the Fetish Ball and, as a birthday gift to me, my friend Andrew is purchasing a ticket for me - last time I went as a naughty schoolgirl and Andrew once went as a priest, what will we think of next?; the following weekend is my birthday and my friend Derek Lee is coming into town to see family so we get to play!; Thanksgiving at my mommy's brand spankin' new house in MA with Anthony; Christmas in North Carolina, and a winter's end visit from the lovely Christy!
What fun!
Yesterday I had the treat of some lunatic coming into my office and wanting to break into a board meeting so she could get the address of the law library. She thought the meeting sounded too "friendly" - as if that is a reason for her to be rude and interrupt the meeting.
No matter, I got rid of her after a half hour and now it's Tuesday. And it's 30 degrees outside. Yesterday I thought it was cold as I was walking to the gym, but this morning I felt like my head was going to freeze and then crack open (remember the headache?). Not so pleasant.
So what have I been up to lately, eh? Corinne (really, I was barely involved) held a Halloween party at our apartment, at which I only spent an hour before attempting to go to sleep (the elections had me working weeks straight, with no days off). Let me note the key word there: "attempting." At some point, for whatever reason, the party moved from the spacious upstairs living space to the stairwell outside my bedroom door. And drunk people are not quiet so I ended up being awake until about 2AM when I sent poor Anthony out to be my Enforcer. I was so pissed off (mostly due to the fact that I had work in the morning).
Other than that, the past few weeks have been devoted entirely to the elections process here in Philadelphia, where it was my job to organize a crew of volunteers, prepare them for their nonpartisan pollwatching activities, and then loose them on Philadelphia on November 2nd. What a pain in the ass! Need I say more?
This year we had the largest volunteer turnout we've had in the past 30 years or so, which is probably enough to say that it's the largest group of people we've had in the institution's history! I had no idea what I was doing, nor do I now really understand what happened, but it's all over now so I am attempting to recover. I still don't think I've caught up on sleep, and I may potentially be coming down with a cold but I'm fighting it every step of the way like the little hellcat I am.
Last weekend was my first few days off in a while. Just for spite (or perhaps because I really deserved it), I took off Friday as well. So, on Friday, I went to a spa and treated myself to 3 hours of pampering. Anthony had given me this spa certificate when I finished rafting the Grand Canyon (how sweet!), so I returned the favor and got him a drool-filled hour and a half aromatherapy massage (Swedish!). It was his first professional massage ever! (Oddly enough, after practicing for so many years on my mom's feet, I gave Anthony his first first massage - period.) I was so happy to provide him with something so special...
Then we spent the rest of the weekend in NYC, where I did nothing but eat, sleep and watch movies. We saw "Capturing the Friedmans," "Bob Le Flambeur," "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," most of "The Fellowship of the Ring," and then went to the theatre with hundreds of squirmy little children to see "The Incredibles." Oh how I love lazy weekends where my boyfriend cooks for me!
The only other thing to report is the upcoming events (in the case that you're paying attention and actually want to know): this weekend is the Fetish Ball and, as a birthday gift to me, my friend Andrew is purchasing a ticket for me - last time I went as a naughty schoolgirl and Andrew once went as a priest, what will we think of next?; the following weekend is my birthday and my friend Derek Lee is coming into town to see family so we get to play!; Thanksgiving at my mommy's brand spankin' new house in MA with Anthony; Christmas in North Carolina, and a winter's end visit from the lovely Christy!
What fun!
Friday, October 01, 2004
Wednesdays at the Ritz
Did I tell you about Wednesdays at the Ritz? Each Wednesday night, I send out an evite to all my Philly-area friends and invite them to see a different movie at the Ritz Theatres (one of the best things about Philly is that it's main theatre houses are indie/foreign venues).
That being said, this past Wednesday we went to see John Waters newest journey into depravity, A Dirty Shame. I haven't really made up my mind about the movie. Like most Waters flicks, it reeks of campiness so you have to appreciate it from that angle at least. But the acting is always poor, and the dialogue here seemed more than a little contrived. Of course, there was a certain scene in a nursing home that made me simultaneously want to crawl under the seat in front of me and curl up into the fetal position, and laugh until I couldn't cry anymore...
Well, whatever. If you've liked Waters past films, then you'll likely enjoy this one. Most of the people in the theatre thought everything was hysterical - I'm just a little more cynical than the average bear.
The Job
So, not only am I working about five different jobs (in an office of three people, where there is a PR guy - i.e. the Executive Director, a writer - i.e. the Research Director, and me, I end up being the secretary, office manager, intern/volunteer coordinator, accounts payable, payroll, etc.), but now the concept of living from paycheck to paycheck is taking on a whole new meaning.
Each week we are one step closer to bankruptcy. And me, being the financial guru that I am (or that I am paid to be anyway) - I have discovered the one, inescapable truth: I never know if I will be paid. That's right folks. Because we are a nonprofit and depend upon the kindness of others to pay our bills and payroll, and because we have no money coming in, I don't know where my next paycheck is coming from. In two weeks time, I could be living on the streets.
So now I have the lovely task of finding another job because I don't want the stress of figuring out how I am going to pull my paycheck out of my tush. With all that is going on in my life lately - with moving, with Anthony, with work - it's going to become that much more hectic if I start an all-out job search.
But if that's what I gotta do, then that's what I gotta do. Wish me luck! Or send me your best contacts... (either/or really)
The Boy(toy)
Alright, I told him he wasn't my boy toy, but I know he'll get a laugh out of that one. If you haven't spoken to me in a while or don't pay attention to anything I say, here it is in print: I'm dating a very fantastic, kind-hearted gentleman named Anthony. We initially met in the New York Office of Diplomatic Security, right near the end of my time there. He was very shy, but somehow we staid in touch (and I cured him of his shyness too - if you don't believe me, just ask him about playing spin-the-bottle on the roof of my last apartment with my Philly friends). In any case, after Vince and I broke up, we started seeing each other. I have no idea what day you would consider our first "date," but we've been seeing each other for about 4 months now (that is, when he's not in the Sudan or Greece, fighting crime like the super hero he is). And although I'm not going into too much detail here, suffice to say that he makes me happy. To quote Anthony, "Very much so." (I am sure there are still one or two State Department people who read my Blog, and I've been avoiding getting the word out in my old office, but if they see this, they see this.)
The End is in sight...
Okay, so I'm really supposed to be working on the financial report for the Committee of Seventy right now, but I haven't been able to concentrate all day. As we get closer to the election, more and more phone calls come in, from increasingly crazy people. I actually had one lady call me yesterday and tell me I am racist because I told her she wasn't actually a member of the Committee. Ridiculous, I tell you!
In any case, that is neither here nor there. And I should be getting back.
Did I tell you about Wednesdays at the Ritz? Each Wednesday night, I send out an evite to all my Philly-area friends and invite them to see a different movie at the Ritz Theatres (one of the best things about Philly is that it's main theatre houses are indie/foreign venues).
That being said, this past Wednesday we went to see John Waters newest journey into depravity, A Dirty Shame. I haven't really made up my mind about the movie. Like most Waters flicks, it reeks of campiness so you have to appreciate it from that angle at least. But the acting is always poor, and the dialogue here seemed more than a little contrived. Of course, there was a certain scene in a nursing home that made me simultaneously want to crawl under the seat in front of me and curl up into the fetal position, and laugh until I couldn't cry anymore...
Well, whatever. If you've liked Waters past films, then you'll likely enjoy this one. Most of the people in the theatre thought everything was hysterical - I'm just a little more cynical than the average bear.
The Job
So, not only am I working about five different jobs (in an office of three people, where there is a PR guy - i.e. the Executive Director, a writer - i.e. the Research Director, and me, I end up being the secretary, office manager, intern/volunteer coordinator, accounts payable, payroll, etc.), but now the concept of living from paycheck to paycheck is taking on a whole new meaning.
Each week we are one step closer to bankruptcy. And me, being the financial guru that I am (or that I am paid to be anyway) - I have discovered the one, inescapable truth: I never know if I will be paid. That's right folks. Because we are a nonprofit and depend upon the kindness of others to pay our bills and payroll, and because we have no money coming in, I don't know where my next paycheck is coming from. In two weeks time, I could be living on the streets.
So now I have the lovely task of finding another job because I don't want the stress of figuring out how I am going to pull my paycheck out of my tush. With all that is going on in my life lately - with moving, with Anthony, with work - it's going to become that much more hectic if I start an all-out job search.
But if that's what I gotta do, then that's what I gotta do. Wish me luck! Or send me your best contacts... (either/or really)
The Boy(toy)
Alright, I told him he wasn't my boy toy, but I know he'll get a laugh out of that one. If you haven't spoken to me in a while or don't pay attention to anything I say, here it is in print: I'm dating a very fantastic, kind-hearted gentleman named Anthony. We initially met in the New York Office of Diplomatic Security, right near the end of my time there. He was very shy, but somehow we staid in touch (and I cured him of his shyness too - if you don't believe me, just ask him about playing spin-the-bottle on the roof of my last apartment with my Philly friends). In any case, after Vince and I broke up, we started seeing each other. I have no idea what day you would consider our first "date," but we've been seeing each other for about 4 months now (that is, when he's not in the Sudan or Greece, fighting crime like the super hero he is). And although I'm not going into too much detail here, suffice to say that he makes me happy. To quote Anthony, "Very much so." (I am sure there are still one or two State Department people who read my Blog, and I've been avoiding getting the word out in my old office, but if they see this, they see this.)
The End is in sight...
Okay, so I'm really supposed to be working on the financial report for the Committee of Seventy right now, but I haven't been able to concentrate all day. As we get closer to the election, more and more phone calls come in, from increasingly crazy people. I actually had one lady call me yesterday and tell me I am racist because I told her she wasn't actually a member of the Committee. Ridiculous, I tell you!
In any case, that is neither here nor there. And I should be getting back.
Friday, September 24, 2004
For those of you who didn't receive my mass email about voting stuff, here are a few links that might whet your whistle:
Just Vote - voter registration information, no matter what state you live in
Project Vote Smart - breakdown of candidate and elected official information
George Bush's official website
Kerry/Edwards campaign site
Nader for President site
Federal Elections Commission
Cake Club New York's Political Coverage - a club I belong to that is very pro-woman, and therefore anti-Bush
My friend Erin's website - awesome site for pro-Democratic coverage
And, of course, the lovely place where I work, The Committee of Seventy.
Just Vote - voter registration information, no matter what state you live in
Project Vote Smart - breakdown of candidate and elected official information
George Bush's official website
Kerry/Edwards campaign site
Nader for President site
Federal Elections Commission
Cake Club New York's Political Coverage - a club I belong to that is very pro-woman, and therefore anti-Bush
My friend Erin's website - awesome site for pro-Democratic coverage
And, of course, the lovely place where I work, The Committee of Seventy.
Thursday, September 16, 2004
It is supposed to rain for the next week straight and since my desk is located right next to a window displaying a grey, grimy, rain-sodden day, I am in no mood whatsoever to get any work done. (Any excuse would do really...)
So I just returned from an AWESOME vacation down on the River Kwai. Actually, it was the Colorado River - you know, the one that runs through Grand Canyon (Vince will be so proud that I didn't use "the"). If you fail to recall anything about me, then I tell you now that this is the white water rafting trip that Vincent and I planned a year or so ago when we were still dating. It was one of those things that we just forced ourselves to pay for before we could protest.
And I am so happy we did it...
We spent one night in Las Vegas before the start of our outdoor adventure, and for once it was well worth the price of admission, if only to come home with a picture of Michelle as a Borg from the Star Trek Experience at the Hilton. Now if she ever chooses to defy me, I will dedicate a site to the hairless Borg, Michelle! Mwhahahahahahahaaaa...!
Unfortunately, even though Mel (yet another college roommate of mine) was also in Las Vegas that weekend, we didn't manage to meet up, mostly due to the fact that I am an old lady trapped in a 24-year-old body who needs to regulate her sleep and be in bed by the crack of sunset....
In any case, Vincent and I flew out to Marble Canyon on Sunday, September 5th, in the smallest plane I've ever ridden (with one minor exception: the initial flying lesson Vincent gave me in a Cesna last year). The plane was one of those "into the brush" type of planes, where you actually have to wear earphones to block the noise out.
Of course, being so 'ittle, the views out the window were SPECTACULAR. We flew right over Marble Canyon, and sometimes it looked as though we were inside of it. I'm not really sure I could point out our route on a map, but when we landed, we were on a dirt strip in the middle of the desert with nothing but a one-horse town to greet us.
We were staying at the Marble Canyon Lodge, which for all intents and purposes was the only housing facility in sight. There was one general store, one restaurant, one gas station/convenience store, one post office, and one lodge/conference center. That was it. As far as the eye could see, nothing but red desert and mountains in the distance.
It seemed like the only people, other than various rafters, paddlers, kayakers and the like, that were staying at the Lodge were bikers. So it was us and the leather-clad, sun-branded, tatooed men and women of the Harley Davidson clan. I thought it was kind of odd that, of all the places in the world to travel, some bikers found themselves on this lonely stretch of road, in the middle of nowhere, AZ. It all reaked of confusion to me...
No matter. We met our fellow Outdoors Unlimited travelers and guides later that evening. In total, there were 23 of us: a family of 3 from New Jersey, 2 couples from Michigan, 3 coworkers from Utah, 1 couple from Kansas, 2 ladies from New Hampshire, 7 guides from Oregon and Northern California, and 1 stag from Sterling frickin' Massachusetts! (I still can't get over someone on that trip being from the next town over from my home town - unreal!)
Now, if I had my DSL working yet, I would have pictures for you all to view, but honestly, I just got back from vacation, still haven't settled my apartment yet, and DEFINITELY haven't had time to set up my computer.
So, back to day one on the river. By some time later in the day on Monday, the 6th, we finally donned our bulky, awkward, yellow life vests and put our boats into the water. Vince and I were on the one paddle boat with the couple from Kansas (Hunter and Alex dropped out of the trip at the last minute - I'm guessing it's because they broke up and Hunter went ahead and married another girl (who incidentally, was 7 months pregnant at the time of the trip with Hunter's baby)), but there were 5 oar boats on the trip too. Two boats were for gear - kitchen stuff, toilets, trash, sleeping bags, tents, etc. - and the other three for passengers. The difference between the two kinds of boats are that paddle boats are smaller, lighter and powered by 6 individual paddlers, while the oar boats have two huge wooden oars and are powered by a single guide.
I must admit that I am very proud of Vince. First for even electing to go on the paddle boat, second for toughing it out in nature without complaint, and third for actually having a good time! He only fell out of the boat once during the whole trip, thus becoming our one and only inaugeral swimmer, and he was totally into the paddling portion of the whole trip. It was nice to see him out-of-doors not whining about ticks, or mosquitos, or poison ivy, or sleeping on the ground, or pain, or anything. He actually fit in with the whole serenity of nature karma.
Before I go on, I should probably point out that I am not going to fill in all the details of EVERY WAKING MOMENT on my blog, but if you want an alternate view, you can always look at Vince's website.
Anywho...
So there were five days floating/paddling down the river. I can't really explain to you what happens to an individual once they travel out into nature like that. We didn't run into any other people for any significant periods of time, and we turned into some sort of (dys)functional family. There is no noise pollution, no light pollution, no 7-Eleven. Just you, your portable toilet (really a green ammo can with a toilet seat fitted on top), and all the golf-ball sized bats nature can throw at you. It's magical to me that there are any places on earth like that left anymore.
Vince and I even had a little routine: up at 5:30AM, dress for the day, pack the waterproof bags, eat breakfast, wash up, white-water rafting, eat lunch, white-water rafting, hiking, write in our journals, eat dinner, go to sleep. It really was living life simply.
Of course, life isn't without it's foibles. I began drinking so much water during the day that the paddle boat should have been renamed the "piddle" boat. Every hour (at least) I had to ask Robyn (the paddle boat guide) to pull to shore for a pee break. We'd go all forward and paddle like crazy people to hit a beach because I was wearing paddle paints, which meant that I could piddle in them, but then I would have to sit in a puddle of my own urine for the rest of the day (i.e. the pants are waterproof - both inside and out). It turned into the big group joke - me and my pea-sized bladder, a genetic defect thanks to my lovely mother.
Although in my defense, I will say that everyone who rafted with me for the day (there were plenty of spots open so people could switch boats each day) was happy that we made so many potty stops. I think that most people were afraid to stand tall, stand proud, and declare, "I must piddle, NOW!"
And thus concludes the potty talk portion of my blog...
In fact, that concludes today's portion of my Blog. I have many, many things to accomplish today and here I am, wasting my time talking to myself! I will write later, if I can...
So I just returned from an AWESOME vacation down on the River Kwai. Actually, it was the Colorado River - you know, the one that runs through Grand Canyon (Vince will be so proud that I didn't use "the"). If you fail to recall anything about me, then I tell you now that this is the white water rafting trip that Vincent and I planned a year or so ago when we were still dating. It was one of those things that we just forced ourselves to pay for before we could protest.
And I am so happy we did it...
We spent one night in Las Vegas before the start of our outdoor adventure, and for once it was well worth the price of admission, if only to come home with a picture of Michelle as a Borg from the Star Trek Experience at the Hilton. Now if she ever chooses to defy me, I will dedicate a site to the hairless Borg, Michelle! Mwhahahahahahahaaaa...!
Unfortunately, even though Mel (yet another college roommate of mine) was also in Las Vegas that weekend, we didn't manage to meet up, mostly due to the fact that I am an old lady trapped in a 24-year-old body who needs to regulate her sleep and be in bed by the crack of sunset....
In any case, Vincent and I flew out to Marble Canyon on Sunday, September 5th, in the smallest plane I've ever ridden (with one minor exception: the initial flying lesson Vincent gave me in a Cesna last year). The plane was one of those "into the brush" type of planes, where you actually have to wear earphones to block the noise out.
Of course, being so 'ittle, the views out the window were SPECTACULAR. We flew right over Marble Canyon, and sometimes it looked as though we were inside of it. I'm not really sure I could point out our route on a map, but when we landed, we were on a dirt strip in the middle of the desert with nothing but a one-horse town to greet us.
We were staying at the Marble Canyon Lodge, which for all intents and purposes was the only housing facility in sight. There was one general store, one restaurant, one gas station/convenience store, one post office, and one lodge/conference center. That was it. As far as the eye could see, nothing but red desert and mountains in the distance.
It seemed like the only people, other than various rafters, paddlers, kayakers and the like, that were staying at the Lodge were bikers. So it was us and the leather-clad, sun-branded, tatooed men and women of the Harley Davidson clan. I thought it was kind of odd that, of all the places in the world to travel, some bikers found themselves on this lonely stretch of road, in the middle of nowhere, AZ. It all reaked of confusion to me...
No matter. We met our fellow Outdoors Unlimited travelers and guides later that evening. In total, there were 23 of us: a family of 3 from New Jersey, 2 couples from Michigan, 3 coworkers from Utah, 1 couple from Kansas, 2 ladies from New Hampshire, 7 guides from Oregon and Northern California, and 1 stag from Sterling frickin' Massachusetts! (I still can't get over someone on that trip being from the next town over from my home town - unreal!)
Now, if I had my DSL working yet, I would have pictures for you all to view, but honestly, I just got back from vacation, still haven't settled my apartment yet, and DEFINITELY haven't had time to set up my computer.
So, back to day one on the river. By some time later in the day on Monday, the 6th, we finally donned our bulky, awkward, yellow life vests and put our boats into the water. Vince and I were on the one paddle boat with the couple from Kansas (Hunter and Alex dropped out of the trip at the last minute - I'm guessing it's because they broke up and Hunter went ahead and married another girl (who incidentally, was 7 months pregnant at the time of the trip with Hunter's baby)), but there were 5 oar boats on the trip too. Two boats were for gear - kitchen stuff, toilets, trash, sleeping bags, tents, etc. - and the other three for passengers. The difference between the two kinds of boats are that paddle boats are smaller, lighter and powered by 6 individual paddlers, while the oar boats have two huge wooden oars and are powered by a single guide.
I must admit that I am very proud of Vince. First for even electing to go on the paddle boat, second for toughing it out in nature without complaint, and third for actually having a good time! He only fell out of the boat once during the whole trip, thus becoming our one and only inaugeral swimmer, and he was totally into the paddling portion of the whole trip. It was nice to see him out-of-doors not whining about ticks, or mosquitos, or poison ivy, or sleeping on the ground, or pain, or anything. He actually fit in with the whole serenity of nature karma.
Before I go on, I should probably point out that I am not going to fill in all the details of EVERY WAKING MOMENT on my blog, but if you want an alternate view, you can always look at Vince's website.
Anywho...
So there were five days floating/paddling down the river. I can't really explain to you what happens to an individual once they travel out into nature like that. We didn't run into any other people for any significant periods of time, and we turned into some sort of (dys)functional family. There is no noise pollution, no light pollution, no 7-Eleven. Just you, your portable toilet (really a green ammo can with a toilet seat fitted on top), and all the golf-ball sized bats nature can throw at you. It's magical to me that there are any places on earth like that left anymore.
Vince and I even had a little routine: up at 5:30AM, dress for the day, pack the waterproof bags, eat breakfast, wash up, white-water rafting, eat lunch, white-water rafting, hiking, write in our journals, eat dinner, go to sleep. It really was living life simply.
Of course, life isn't without it's foibles. I began drinking so much water during the day that the paddle boat should have been renamed the "piddle" boat. Every hour (at least) I had to ask Robyn (the paddle boat guide) to pull to shore for a pee break. We'd go all forward and paddle like crazy people to hit a beach because I was wearing paddle paints, which meant that I could piddle in them, but then I would have to sit in a puddle of my own urine for the rest of the day (i.e. the pants are waterproof - both inside and out). It turned into the big group joke - me and my pea-sized bladder, a genetic defect thanks to my lovely mother.
Although in my defense, I will say that everyone who rafted with me for the day (there were plenty of spots open so people could switch boats each day) was happy that we made so many potty stops. I think that most people were afraid to stand tall, stand proud, and declare, "I must piddle, NOW!"
And thus concludes the potty talk portion of my blog...
In fact, that concludes today's portion of my Blog. I have many, many things to accomplish today and here I am, wasting my time talking to myself! I will write later, if I can...
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