A Mountain Visit

We trekked up to Asheville with Ellie and Caroline for a long weekend getaway - an escape from our oppressive temperatures. We booked an exciting house on a mountaintop, changed the oil in our car, and then dumped the pups off with Mom and Dad. This was fortuitous timing (that's sarcasm) as Pippa has been on a somewhat inconvenient medicine schedule for a stomach ulcer. It's a lot of pills at strategic times, but the real doozie is this one pill you have to crush up, stir into a slurry, slurp up into a syringe and then squeeze into Pippa's mouth, twice a day. 
Thanks Mom and Dad, see you Monday!

Pipps is doing great, thanks for asking. 

We got in Friday afternoon and then snacked and chatted until we left again. The fun part of traveling with friends is getting that twenty-four hour access to how they move through a day. I've known Ellie since we were five, so few of her choices strike me as funny, except for the fact that most of her choices are funny. She's the most steadily sanguine person I know. Her mood rarely changes from cheerful optimism. When she's mad or scared or anything different, it has about a ten percent opacity. You'll only know because she told you - it won't be discernible in her voice or behavior. Caroline, like me, is much more inclined to feel many different emotions in a day. Caroline, unlike me, will tell you about them. I appreciate this about her because she and I are usually on the same page about things but she'll say something about it and subsequently, she seems like the problem child instead of me. 

Our rental house had a scary, North Carolina driveway. It was all right angles and steep inclines on a gravel path. The car would slip and tremble as you made your way up and up and up, and being that we are all from a very flat place, the driveway seemed dicey. That is to say, I did not like this driveway but with an unfazed Brett behind the wheel, I could sit quietly and endure the tension. Caroline also did not like the driveway but she lived in fear of coming or going from the house each day. She would look for ways around using the driveway ("let's order in!"), walk herself down the hill, or sit in the car discussing her worries as we rolled back down the mountain. Ellie sat in whatever seat of whatever car we took that day and carried on enjoying the mere concept of being alive. 

So watching this particular group of people for a weekend was a joy. Brett and Ellie hit it off the very moment I introduced them to each other ten years ago, and it's continued to be such a joy to see them pull the fun out of each other. Caroline and I often sit together and watch them play, like proud moms hosting a successful playdate. As the more vigilant (anxious) members of our group, we let them wreak havoc in the controlled environment we create for them. "Come on you two, it's time for lunch. Ellie, have you had any water today?" While they play, Caroline and I talk about "important" things ranging in subject from politics to human health to unique experiences. She is a good listener and a direct but fair responder. She will not sugar coat things but won't present anything to you that she doesn't think you can handle. Also, she's real easy to make laugh.

Up to no good.

So that's one way we pair off. 

The other one is equally fun for me to observe. Caroline and Brett are similar in many ways. They are highly disciplined, prioritize doing what's best for their future-selves, and have high ethical standards. They both wake up early for sunrises, require good coffee, and set off exercising before Ellie and I are even close to waking up. So while they're busy implementing ways for us to all better ourselves, Ellie and I will be deeply invested in trying to shock the other, be it with behavior or wit. Usually the two of us are laughing so hard that we're crying, which is great fun to us, but seems to embarrass Brett and Caroline when we're out in public. 

What I really like about this friendship is our willingness to snap at each other. It sounds counterintuitive but I think many friendships ignore or endure bits that make people uncomfortable, because we don't want make waves. There are people I love spending time with but wouldn't ask them to change things I don't like. Here, we can all tell each other "Hey, you're being childish right now," and we'll still go home giggling arm in arm. 

Early birds discussing world peace. 

So some highlights. Let's see.
There was a huge Indian dinner.

A hike that nearly killed me on account of the common outcome of an Indian Dinner.

Lots of coffee shop visits.

Poker night.

And a general wandering around in a town that wound up being only about 3 degrees cooler than our home temperatures. We also managed to consistently patronize establishments without air conditioning so we were all about as sweaty as people can be. 

Other highlights I will note purely for my own memory of this trip (it would be far too much to explain);  a rockstar named Billy Balls, the breakfast casserole, pet gerbils, "yes, but she's well fed.", the angry trucker, the art student, Caroline's unexpected spit-take, the overweight nudists, and the hairy man at the coffee shop that we all found strangely attractive. 

We laughed so hard I felt sick. I think that sums up the weekend.

Male Men

A good ol' summer-storm power outage.

Our mailman has a lead foot. He comes ripping through the neighborhood after lunch each day, often bypassing blocks at a time, I think to unload packages first and loop back around to deliver paperstuffs. You can hear him zooming around long before he gets to your house because he's got that little mail truck's sewing machine engine pushed to max capacity. It's buzzing with all it's might. When I hear him at the neighbor's house, I make my way to the window so I can watch him deliver our mail. He flies past our house and screeches to halt at our mailbox. He stops so abruptly that he and the car lurch forward before settling back on the asphalt. Then he smacks open our mailbox and leafs through his piles for stuff with our names on them. The best part is watching the envelopes leave his car and make it to our box. I think he throws them or flings them or flicks them, but either way, they leave his hand before they leave his truck. It happens so fast that I can't quite figure it out. 

He'll smack the tongue of our mailbox but up again and then hit the gas with his whole foot. He and the little car whiplash backwards before plowing ahead to the next house. It makes me laugh every time. And he's not a friendly, pleasant person. I've smiled and waved and all the things but he never acknowledges me. In fact, he scowls. Also, he has a frustrating habit of hustling anything that won't fit into the box up to the front door. He hurls it to the porch, scampers back to his truck, and then lurches forward to the mailbox to deliver the paper mail. Why doesn't he just put it all by the door and save himself twelve seconds? 
In any case. I like him. It's like if Dad was a mailman - except that Dad would be very friendly, jubilantly engrossed in his own competition to deliver mail the fastest. 

Some birthday visitors.

Unrelated but equally amusing, I read that half of men surveyed believe they could land a commercial airliner in an emergency situation. This helps to explain many of the encounters I've had with their kind. Not only do I not believe I could land an airliner with no prior experience, part of me feels worse putting it in the hands of someone so irrational. But, I also couldn't just sit there and do nothing, so I guess I kind of get it, and anyone willing to keep me from having to enter the cockpit has my respect. It's a complex conundrum to consider... if you're a woman. Apparently heaps of fellas think it's simple as pie.

I approached Brett with my findings. His expression suggested that what I told him was not wild information. "Do you think you could land a commercial airplane, Brett?"

A knowing, guilty grin spread across his face. I saw him relent to his own mind. "Well, yeah."

Then we laughed and laughed.

Brett understands that pilots have to fly many different planes for thousands of hours before they're allowed to do so for others, but he still felt this information was negligible. "If it's an emergency, I have to something."

"Yes, but that's not the question."

I go on to find out that men (represented here by Brett) feel they could land a plane because of prior video game experience doing so, as well as a general understanding of engines and the aerodynamic principles of lift and drag. I will concede that I do not have a general understanding of engines or aerodynamics, so I'm comfortable letting the gamers and nerds take the lead in this particular emergency.

Then we introduced the idea of talking to air traffic controllers on the headset while maneuvering the plane and that only bolstered Brett's confidence. I'll concede again here and say that I could probably do it if it was being explained to me - but it certainly wouldn't be a smooth ride. I suppose a gentle crash landing is acceptable in this instance.

Then I had the thought that we ought to let a woman do it because she would do a better job listening to the traffic controllers. Not saying men wouldn't, just that women would listen harder - maybe let them finish their sentences before yanking on the lever or pushing the button. I didn't say this out loud to Brett because I knew it would make him grumpy and defensive, and that would cause him to both miss and prove the point I was making. But I'll say it here because I am the author of this space.

There is no need for me to even call Dad to check because I know he thinks he could land that plane too. I don't think he'd even be all that worried about getting it right. I think he'd be thrilled by the challenge. Brett would be appropriately stressed. Dad would be unnervingly excited. So then I did that thought experiment. Do I want the inexperienced pilot to be judicious or optimistic? Both traits seem paramount to the situation.

I couldn't decide. Hopefully they're both on the plane and can work together.

Today I found myself wondering about my mailman landing the plane. He certainly works fast. Seems motivated. But I worry he would be satisfied stopping the plane with a direct hit to something with a little give to it. "Close enough!" he'd think, and then he'd hop out and rush off to his next assignment.

My favorite barnacle.