The Good News

We went for just the best visit to Rochester to see Alex and Jessie. They've always got something exciting going on in their lives and in this case, it's the ongoing renovations to their house. When we visited in January of 2022, they had just moved in, so it was all creaky and dated and drafty. This time, we walked into the most marvelous still in-progress "fancy cottage" kitchen, de-carpeted stairs, a freshly tiled shower, and more! Admittedly this part was mostly thrilling for me and Jessie, but Alex and Brett enjoyed chatting about the structural aspects while Jessie and I talked about how the space made us feel. 

I don't suppose it's very often in life that you meet a pair of people with your other half, and all of you feel equally comfortable being left alone with each other. Brett and Jessie can tumble deep into convserattons about politics and history, while Alex and I wander off discussing philosophy and people. Jessie and I will lose a whole morning baking bread and roasting veggies, while Brett and Alex mentally rebuild the foundation of their sunroom. Put all four of us at the table together? It all morphs into comedy gold! 

They picked us up from the airport on Wednesday evening, stuffed us full of those roasted veggies, took their pup Sadie for a walk, and then we all went to bed early. (We're getting old and sleepy.) But that next day! Jessie whipped up a loaf of banana bread while Alex headed to the office for a half day. I did some homework while Jessie had a Zoom meeting and Brett went nuts selecting books from their extensive collection. At noon we went to a bakery we visited back in January, and I was delighted so see that the wet, muddy floor, covered in melting snow was replaced by dry wooden floor boards and a summer breeze drifting past the whitest legs I've ever seen. Those upstate New Yorkers are pale! 

We went to a book shop where we spent too much money and then picked Alex up from the office. The afternoon was spent giggling, snacking, playing corn hole, and napping. We had a big supper in town and then came home to learn how to play a card game named Euchre. I'll go ahead and tell you that it's the most convoluted thing Brett and I have ever tried to learn. We staggered through it like drunken toddlers while Alex patiently reiterated the same rules over and over. Jessie started out enthusiastic but it waned as she began to perceive the true depths of the commitment she'd made by suggesting the game. We did start to pick it up a bit just as it was ending, but even Alex was a little exasperated by then.

These folks have the Hon-effect, where you're having so much fun that you don't remember to take pictures and then the only ones from your visit are the ones they took of you. How embarrassing.

Friday was the day I'd been waiting on. Ages ago I booked us a tour of Farm Sanctuary. It's kind of the first ever farm animal sanctuary in the country, so they are real trailblazers of the farm animal advocacy movement. They do all sort of wonderful educational things as well as rehabbing the critters that they find dumped in piles at auctions, or lost on highways after jumping from transport trucks. All the residents there get to stay until the end of their days, and they get to have all kind of say in how their day goes, which is all anyone really wants in life. 

I was thrilled to visit. It was an hour and a half outside of Rochester through beautiful hilly green countryside. Except for the winters, Brett and I could see why you would come live in such a place. I'll skip past my bubbling heart surge and tell you that we got to pet lots of critters. Brett went berserk in the gift shop and brought home lots of farm animal merchandise. It turns out that the sanctuary was in NY's "wine country," so we stopped at a winery on a lake for lunch, before popping into a Wegman's grocery store on the way home. Have you ever been in a Wegman's? It was nuts in there. I liked it a lot and apparently annoyed Brett with my wonder. "Look at this!" "Look at those!" "What is that?"

Our babysitters.

Jessie whipped up a hearty dinner and then we all laid on the floor and watched a movie. I was feeling a bit congested and had a headache all day, but I was willing to look past it for the sake of fun. Once I laid down under a blanket, it all really hit hard. I was getting sick.

Saturday was another big, full day. They took us to a coffee shop and farmers market. (The same one we went to last time, but it was so snowy and cold that Brett and I made the executive decision to go home.) We bought cheese and fixings for our Szechuan BBQ later that day. Alex's best friend, Davin, and his wife Joanna, are both deaf. Davin used to live in China and learned the secret recipes of spiciness. They came over that day to smoke us out. We met them in September at Alex and Jessie's wedding but we had forgotten all the sign language we had worked so hard to learn before meeting them. So instead, Alex and Jessie translated while we played charades and tried to let them know we weren't talking about them. All of us said very little even though most of us can hear. It felt like talking would leave them out or make them suspicious, which is silly, because they're both just the nicest, happiest people. There was more corn hole, an appearance by one of Alex's sisters, and then Davin, Joanna, Alex, and Brett played a round of Euchre. Jessie and I sat on the sidelines. Brett was still learning to play and used Jessie as an over-the-shoulder consultant. To make it more tricky, he had to then learn to play using sign language. 

As if this day wasn't big enough, Davin and Joanna went home and then we went to a brewery where the four of us just sat and enjoyed the beautiful warm day and the pretty scenery and the giggles we all somehow caught at the same time. 

From there, a local soccer game. The neighbors were gifted a box-seat situation, so we ate pizza and watched the game. The neighbors followed us back home where we had a bonfire, some cookies, and played with a pair of wiggling pups. The smoke from the bonfire did a number on my iffy sinuses and I knew something bad was on the horizon.

We had to leave on Sunday. We woke up (congested), packed it all up, said our goodbyes, and promised to come visit next Fall for apple picking and cider donuts. "By the way, houses are cheap up here," Jessie threw in. We sheepishly hugged our favorite friends goodbye and hopped on a flight to Newark. From there Brett was headed home and I was headed to Maine.

That's where the good news ends.

The Summer Job

After the Branson trip, I paid the energy bill, restocked the groceries, and filled my car with gas. Then my school cashed my tuition check and I suddenly realized I needed a job right away. What was I thinking with my lackadaisical "I'll apply for a job when I find one I like" thing? Admittedly I've applied for a few in the realm of animal advocacy but they are very competitive and I've got little to show for myself. Some people don't like when I say that but I feel confident in my lack of understanding of how most things work. But more importantly, I like myself, so I'm not hurting my feelings. Anyways, a small financial panic began as I imagined reverting to my early 20's, standing behind a cash register with a customer service smile plastered on my face. I know I'm only in my 30's now, but I don't think my back can handle a job that requires me to stand there anymore. 

I brought my news to Mom. "I'm going to have to get...to get..a job!" She understands the horror of the monotonous. But she did that thing only she can do, and I wound up kind of excited about the lack of responsibility of an easy, summer job. "If I was 20 years younger," she said, "I'd go work at Berts on Folly Beach." She was right. This could be fun. I left her house mulling over how I'd re-do my 20's if I didn't have the burden of life ahead on my shoulders. 

A few days later, I pulled up my Chris Union pants, called up a kayak tour company, and told them I'd like a job. I'll zoom ahead and tell you that it's my third week as a kayak tour guide on the Folly River, but actually I haven't done any solo-guiding yet because I haven't completed my safety training. In my early 20's I really wanted to give kayak tours but I lacked the courage to attempt the stunt. I looked into it once but you were required to be a certified naturalist, so I wadded up the idea and threw it over my shoulder. Instead I'd stare longingly at people with such cool, outdoorsy jobs and wonder what it was like to be part of the world.

Well I'll tell you that everything I dreamt about the job is not true. Not yet anyways. I do not feel cool or confident. I've gotten a little seasick every time I've gone, panicked about the hot weather, gotten bored on the tours (they're 2 hours - that's too long), and wrenched something in my forearm trying to pickup those enormous plastic tubes. I know I'm new and all, but everyone else can throw these kayaks around like they're folding chairs. My arms can barely keep up. Everyone who works there is all knowledgeable and unconcerned about the countless scenarios I've dreamed up in my head where things go terribly wrong. And when I ask about these things, they kind of shrug and suggest that it probably won't happen. Do they not understand anxiety? Am I the only panic-riddled human that is foolish enough to ever try to be a guide of some kind? WELL WHAT IF IT DOES HAPPEN?? So I lay in bed at night and workout solutions to my aqua-disasters. Because I want the job. I think it's so cool. It just scares the daylights out of me. There are so many opportunities for problems. 

I had a meltdown after my third shift whereupon I got very very seasick and subsequently decided the job wasn't worth the angst it's causing me. Mom agreed. She just gets me. The part of me that has to live life decided I would quit, but the part of me that watches me live life knew that I would be sad if I quit this for the cash register life. I told Brett all my worries and he made me feel worse by accident (he suggested I talk to a therapist) (he's not wrong), so I sat on the floor, pouted, and eventually decided to keep the job. It scares me physically but the cash register scares me mentally.

So I have a summer job now, which is great. 

Here's an unrelated and collectively unflattering photo from an Eisenhauer family wedding this past weekend.