http://lifeatcherryabbey.shutterfly.com/

This sums up why I haven’t posted. kind of.

Other reasons include:

- Volunteering as an usher at The Paramount Theatre (re: getting to see broadway shows for FREE, first of which being WICKED. Yes. This past Tuesday and next Tuesday. Volunteering for access to things is a good gig. Accompanied throughout the week by housemate singalongs…and THOSE are priceless.)

- Rock climbing/camping this past weekend near Bend, Oregon at Smith Rock. Darren – my co-worker – goes every year with friends for his birthday and was kind enough to invite my community along this year. 4 of us went and it. was. a. blast! See pictures in the album, but here are a few of my favorites…

Elizabeth's Canon Power Shot sold me on this picture - this is real and this is breathtaking.

Into the Wild anyone? Darren's 'partner' saved my night around 3:30am thanks to the popped top (not shown here) when I overambitiously went to the bathroom without my glasses on and veered wayyyyy off the path back. There was some army crawling under barbed wire involved...

me, deceivingly badass. This is as far as I got at my first ever attempt at climbing (never ever before in gym, nor rock). I'll elaborate, but long story short, now I'm on a mission.

So Darren’s Evite for this “Smith Rock Extraveganza” read: Come join me in celebrating me!! Gona Climb, eat smores, run naked, play with sparklers, tell stories about how great and Old i am. Friday through Sunday, maybe Monday. Plenty of room Dogs, kids welcom. Car Camping, bring your own home, and loot for me. Ok there may not be nakedness or loot for me thats ok. Lots of hiking, relaxing, biking. . . .

I will resist the urge to make fun of him only because he lent us his Pathfinder to get there, climbing gear (and belaying partner) once we got there, and his cds in the glove box were PERFECT roadtrip mixes. Every time I hear Spoon’s “The Underdog” from now on I will get nostalgic for dirt roads with a dog head resting on my thigh and huckleberry ice cream topping off day 3 of not showering.

Maggie the beautiful golden retriever dog that joined us is the pup of my friends Sean (FJV, 05?) and Rachel. They just had a beautiful baby girl, Junia, who I feel like I’ve known for months. Sean and Rachel lent Grace and I their home last year on several occasions – both with and without them present – as a space for healthy relaxing and conversations. Introducing themselves to my community at the very beginning of the year with a homemade blackberry pie (followed by rosemary lavender butter cookies, to-die-for brownies, seriously amazing homemade pizza, and unbelievable waffles throughout the year), they really extended the hand of hospitality and friendship to Grace and I specifically which I will forever cherish for the genuine laughter that was not so present at our Mercy House home. Maggie, Grace and I bonded whenever S & R were out of town, so naturally I was thrilled when they asked me to take her on some of my “legendary” I think was the word : runs during these few weeks of welcoming another little person into their worlds. Two runs turned into two overnights turned into Maggie’s Big Weekend Out camping. Seriously, she sets too high of expectations for me and my future dog – Maggie is the most well-behaved, good-natured dog EVER. The pictures of her are also some of my favorites..and they capture her retriever-who-refuses-to-exit-the-water, crushing on Earl (Darren’s white dog with the spots), I’ll-sit-here-and-be-happy-just-watching personality. It was hard to give her back.

Our taj-mahal of a tent, though ghetto-ly rigged, was probably the closest experience to solidarity with Members at the Café I’ve had this year so far in so far as sleeping on mats in shelters goes, sans personal private space. The screened ceiling of stars, however, disqualifies me from any comparison.

Other highlights:

- Maggie the dog’s interval (very human sounding, not so human nor anything else!-smelling) farts

- Blisters on my heel and hands….(battle wounds if you will)

- Watching my roommates (all three of them!) kick butt climbing, summiting, and belaying the climbs. And snuggling with Maggie..so cute.

- Pounding in tent stakes with a cast-iron pan because we forgot a hammer (again, there are pictures.)

- Russ’s “NIIIIIIIIIIiiiiice. / ! ” -es. He didn’t know what else to do. So he just kept saying that to our group members as they climbed.

- The key lime pie flavored mints (?) that accompanied our Gresham, OR mexican meal en route home….

My mouth has been wet for climbing. Frustrated as I was (“I just can’t trust that rock poking out the width of a key to anchor me for the next step”…”I just KNOW that my leg can’t extend that far without having something to hold onto with my hands”….”But this doesn’t make any sense: how will my ___lbs. be supported by my TOE being in that tiny-quarter-sized-crevice?!” So when I say long story short, I really mean it was a short short short story. Having been the only one who attempted climbing that had never been before, others stroked my ego by assuring that I did great for a first timer, that it’s really hard to trust your body and the gear and the pros…they coached me so well and positively while on the rock, but I just couldn’t continue without a ‘plan’ (i.e. an identified, obvious, logical next step). To just throw your weight onto one leg and simultaneously reach up (not towards anything specific) and know that your hands will find somewhere to go (keeping in mind my leg doing the reaching was shaking and burning hot)…well I’m too dependent on instant gratification and stability to bat away the doubt that the brain signals.

Nonetheless, now I am intrigued, challenged, and pissed. I want to finish. We laughed listening to music in the car at one point because little tiny fragile delicate Maria loves running to heavy metal head-bashing music. Admittedly, I run my hardest/fastest when angry, too (though to music a little different…). Goal-oriented is my nature and anger is my fuel. Admitting defeat is soooo hard for me, and the feeling of failure is one that does not sit well with me (shocking, I know.) So I did what I do, I started talking.

(If this were a face-to-face conversation, I would right now interject with an excerpt from Wicked’s Defying Gravity:

I’m through accepting limits
”cause someone says they’re so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I’ll never know!

here’s where you would humor my idea of a fun[nny] game to communicate only in lyrics from songs. It just so happens I just saw Wicked, AND hi: it fits so perfectly. Awesome.)

This morning, I had coffee with Kara-Lee, an amazing woman I met here in Seattle this time last year at the doors of the old Recovery Café. She was a JV 13 years ago who I introduced to my housemate (in Kara-Lee’s former JV position) going through a rough time with her agency. Someone who started as a supportive, seasoned volunteer veteran became to both of us an incredible mentor, sounding board, social life coordinator, fish oil advocate and educator of relationship between energy and health. ANYWAY, full of surprises and serendipitous connections, Kara-Lee a) used to teach girls how to climb AS A PROFESSIONAL and b) is close, close friends with a couple who are leading a climbing workshop/adventure to Vantage Rock Climbing this season (!) who will be joining us to Victoria , B.C. in less than a month for the half marathon!

So aside from basically screaming for 2 minutes straight in excitement about this fact, we also committed to climbing Mt. Rainier in June 2010 and – though slightly less rugged – salsa dancing tonight at Century Ballroom. Ironically, I mentioned that I intended on going for the first time tonight since being in Seattle, and at the same time we said, “at Century Ballroom?/.” Community night last night was learning & practicing salsa, and though not everyone will be as gleefully joining the social scene tonight, my obsession with latin dance from Spain totally reignited and I was busting at the seams with excitement when Kara-Lee told me she and her fiancé Andrew had talked about going tonight there as well. Done and done.

I’ll have to save the Cherry Abbey Labor Day Party 2009 for next time.

WordPress love,

L

p.s. thanks to Nick for helping me transfer & redirect to wordpress. Now I, too, can obsess over statistics and readership.