unedited

You know, I posted a few blogs in the "regular" font size with the intentions of fewer folks having to squint while reading. Then I realized, you know what Laura Jane, no one reads this that doesn't mind the occasional squint. Maybe in the next step of my personal branding campaign I can find an ideal blog font size, too.

This weekend was incredible. I hit the ground RUNNING AND SCREAMING after my first, short week of work, which I will get into later. I skipped out the door and, of course, hit Happy Hour, ate a hot dog, grumbled about Critical Mass before taking off around town on my own with my friend Howell, beer, beer, more beer, whiskey, music, backporch grumbling. And then I fell asleep at the studio.

The heavenly sleep situation led to beautiful things Saturday morning...and somewhat of a hangover, but I know how to tackle those. I rolled over to the GLife to slurp down lots of coffee, watch YogaMoms from NorthshoreYoga sit around and chatter in their expensive yoga outfits, and otherwise gaze at Northshore happenings with my shades on, still comprehending what happened Friday night. This is pretty typical; what happened next, however, was so fortuitous.

I made a few phone calls to catch up with people I hadn't spoken to all week. Sequatchie Cove Farms distributed its beautiful produce to shareholders or subscribers, and I spotted an old friend. He filled me in on a choice ghost from my past -- I say ghost because we really did share an encounter, but I doubt I will ever, EVER see that person again -- who was in town that particular day. Said ghost had moved to California soon after I moved to/from Portland. Funny how people cycle through times of their lives....and how those cycles overlap. Chance encounters, I suppose, aren't really left up to chance.

That was the first one. I said hello to a new painter friend who works at the orchid farm up on Signal Mountain. I've seen his stuff before, and I wanted to call one of the paintings "bike porn." This sprouted a whole different chain of thoughts in my head about having a bike porn store, what that would entail and exactly what customer/artist that would attract. Anyways, I digress. I rolled around Frazier feeling somewhat accomplished on my hungover morning; I bought some T-shirts and realized I looked absolutely terrible. I headed up the hill.

Just as my heart started pouding, my breath sounded like a freight train and my legs started to burn, I spotted a yard sale. Sweet relief, I say. Sure enough, this chica was having a HUGE sale before moving to Caifornia. Sure enough, she was selling loads of cute, professional-ish clothes. Sure enough, we were about the same size. Almost an hour later, I had three bags of nice clothes, a coffee grinder, a few plates and a yoga mat ready to go to my home. After a trip to the ATM, where I stumbled into yet another friend, my pops rolled down the hill and threw my yard-sale jackpot winnings + me + bike in the truck. I never would have made it up the hill, even without the loot.

Thus began my weekend on the boat. A few beers and no less than 15 coats of sunscreen later and I was about to fall asleep around seven Saturday evening. It was heavenly. Knowing me, I pushed it a little bit further and decided to roll down the hill. STRAIGHT down the hill, over the Market Street bridge and down on Main to eat with Keith. Two tamales later and I was fixin to fall asleep again. I had some emotional baggage to be claimed from the evening before, so the evening rounded up with that, and lots of laughs at the tuxedoed, drunk fucks trying to hoard their skanky girlfriends into vehicles. There was a lot going on last night, apparently.

And today, I awoke feeling refreshed, replenished and all around amazing. We spent a solid five hours out on the lake, me somewhat avoiding the sun with a giant hat and gobs of 'screen, and I helped pops start peeling the old name off his boat. A big dinner later and I'm ready to collapse...

...only to prepare for the deuxieme semaine at my pub job! I had such a good first week: I think I'll get the hang of the process quickly and be speedier in no time. I work with some happenin folks, in a happenin place, where I believe I can balance my life/passion with my work. And no, they don't have to be the same thing. I could wax poetic and get into the metacommunication of this all, but hey, it's only week two. Who knows what will become of it/me.

My sheets make me feel a bit dizzy, I have sea legs/head from boating all weekend, my sun avoidance worked good enough so I don't have a burn, I have planned for this week: potluck, friends, Lookouts game, boat at Riverbend, biking to work... at least TWO days.

Aaaand... SLEEP.