Tarps, Tents, Tank Tops

Oh my gosh I’m so tired.

The rest of the day– hilarious hiding under a tarp during a storm at work with an veteran Peace Corps member from the tropics, then building rock statues with Carinne, then recruiting with Dre at a university.

And waking up to the rain on the tent this morning pouring down. Running in shorts and a tank top to the lodge.

Ricky laying on a pallet on the floor in the lodge. Old women walking into our bathroom with beer cans in hand, peering over at him like he’s a cockroach or something.


“Not one of you…”

We’re all perched inside the lodge, watching the kitchen. Calling out when someone walks in. Had to intercept a bunch of guys from storing beers in our fridge. And people keep coming in the back door. And we yell at them to get out.

And the water turns off every half hour spontaneously. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned that on this blog. We have to walk out a bit, to the utilities and turn on the water. We do it every hour or so.

*Shirtless Ricky just picked Jess up in his arms and swung her around and around while they both giggled. They sat down and everyone resumed activities.

I don’t even know where to start with today!

Let’s work backwards.

So I just got back from a jog. I remembered to jog because I got a tattoo to remind me to jog earlier today. I’ve been meaning to get this tattoo for a year. But it came to me, the perfect way to frame it, last Friday as I sat on the San Francisco beach alone with the wind and the water.

“Would things be easier if there was a right way? Honey, there is no right way. I fall in love just a little bit everyday with someone new,” -Hosier

This is confusing working backwards. Maybe I’ll just start with after work, and work from there.

So after work we come home, and clean the house while Tony and I prepare dinner. We get some lentils, rice, and veggies.

***“What the fuck happened to ya’ll’s tent?” Dre

“Our tent? It blew over.”

Resume writing, reading, casual non interested activities.

I noticed it when I went for my jog. We’ve got a tarp full of water from the rain last night, and we’ve got a tent blown backward, lying on it’s backside. To deal with later. Like a lot of things.***

“Would things be easier if there was a right way? Honey, there is no right way.”

Just so much happens daily here. And I want to try to tell you more about it. I want to learn how to write about it.

Last people are trickling out of the lodge, and we’re getting our kitchen/living room back to ourselves for the evening.

When we got home from the tattoo parlor, we walked into a full blown concert taking place on our porch. Had to walk right up past them to get into our kitchen and eat dinner.

Back to dinner. Tony and I made everything, and threw it into two crock pots and a rice cooker. And then we let it sit.

We then had our team meeting. Our team leader just left this morning, and we realized as we furiously scrubbed the lodge head to toe, wiped all the spiders away and cleaned the floor with a toothbrush that we all have an authority problem.

She’s been asking us to clean this place for a month and a half, and we wait until the day she leaves to go ham on it.

It’s just the way it is. This is our strength. We are all anarchists who seem to get along extraordinarily well.

We’ve never needed a leader. We actually do so much more without. Because then we take ownership of it. And it’s great.

We enjoy our leadership, but it’s just funny to see how automatic flying solo comes to us all as a group.

We then had the team meeting, which we kept saying was going to be five minutes long since we had the freedom to do so, but then spent a full hour having productive discussions and facts shared.

Break from meeting, and Alyssa, Sydney Jess and I all jumped in the van and I drove us downtown to get a tattoo. Ricky joined.

Tried a few tattoo shops, but already knew where I was going to go. It’s the one that’s caught my eye everytime I’ve been downtown. And of course it was the one that was taking walk ins, and I jumped in the chair and got the tattoo CURRO. Latin for “I run,” my cure.

And it’s got some other symbolism on it as well. I’ll show you later if you want.

They all sat and watched me lay in that chair for half an hour. And then we walked out to leave. Lost Sydney immediately, and then drove around in circles looking for her. Pulled up on a curb and picked her up.


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