I have to choose a date. Date, as in specific day on the calendar. For this date I will purchase a bus pass to travel Canada. This is as far as my "fall plans" go.
I don't know why I'm so calm about this. I'm not supposed to traipse about without functional plans. Especially not in the middle of an "economic crisis".

Just got back from camping trip. No, it wasn't all thirty of us this year, but it was still a good time. I've tottered my crutches through sand and gravel to lay on the the beach. And swim. Swim kilometers, in fact. At least two. While socializing at the same time.
On the down side, I did come home a day early. Just 'cause the beach was going to get a teeny bit old. There was no hiking, volley-ball, or basket-ball for me. However, today is the first day I'm really noticing a big positive with my foot, and am doing a great deal of rambling around with just a limp.
So, camping. Check. several times now, actually. This summer is playing out about as well as I could've hoped. I wanted it so bad. A healthy summer at home with a decent hit of the season's valley fun I love so much.
Sometimes I feel like since I've returned to posting my life looks like a party. A huge dose of all-great, maybe looking a little fake. I guess that's 'cause it has been a good summer. I'm not used to this laid back thing. I have done a lot of full-time miss-out stuff in the past. What have I been doing since Katimavik, though? It's so great to be here. But don't get me wrong... I've been through a lot.
Katimavik started off a lot for me. I've said before that I went into it as an adult. Very true, I was not the freshly graduated kid that many of the participants are. I was independant, and that made it very hard fitting into the program lifestyle. When the two other girls I considered to be at "point B", my mature counterparts quit in the beginning of the second rotation, it got even harder. I let slip for a while. Forgetting to care too much amidst the cabin fever and house drama. Caring about the kids too much, and letting everything get tangled up.
In third rotation I pulled back. Proving, I suppose, to myself that I could be the best I can.
Some of it was so painfully hard. My lifetime friend from home cut off contact, saying that she didn't care if I understood or not. I thought she was a sister, a million memories, and a million to come. I don't understand, and I doubt I ever will. I sobbed in the hall and Jess gave me skittles so I'd feel better. The next night emerged, black eye, bruised jaw, scratched back. Abused before fighting back. The climax of the most spiritually oppressed involvment I'd experienced to that point. Hours of prayer and complications in the extreme. My group knew, and I had to prove I was a worthwhile human, and stick by the other girl involved. Through that, lost another group-mate. The only other one I had thought to be a Christian. Thankfully, the one that hated me had left two days prior. I was strong enough to follow through my committments, leaving work at lunch break to lay in the small town backwoods and cry. Broken.
And then there were five.
I billetted, I rocked my group work, committees, and protocols. I visited with my sister. Ultimitely, one of my biggest Katima-accomplishments was that I emerged a leader. Strong enough to overcome. When I think about the tomboy farm girl I so definitely was before it's pretty incredible. I did manage to grow after all. A lot. Although there's still tough farmer at heart sometimes. But I found the freedom to be who I was outside of preconceptions.
I hadn't known if I was going home. But I did. I needed to work. One of my Katima-friends became my roomate, along with a cousin I love with all my heart. I got a job and learned to waitress. It was exciting, in a way. As much as becoming a small-town waitress can be. It was weird finding a short-term niche at home. And a literally crazy "friend" threw a lot.
I dated a boy. I'd known him a while, it was a complicated past. I was so happy that Christmas, for a week and a half. Realizing I was ready to sacrafice some things for others. Until I found out he was cheating, and lying, and breaking my heart. It wouldn't have lasted anyway, I hope, so it's good it came to a head so soon. But they say the first cut is the deepest. Especially when you trusted someone to that. So it took a while to heal.
That was supposed to be a good summer. I guess I wasn't ready. I quit the diner job which had pushed me, burnt me out, and taught me how to be an excellent waitress, leaving behind some great co-workers, the usual drama, and a tough boss. I held on to my cafe position. It was good, if not always smooth. I still had to fight through that summer, and try convince myself I was doing ok.
All of this was a work-up. If you can believe it. This post, the two jobs, the time at home, learning through relationships. 'Cause the world was my goal.
I just wanted to write a little bit of the past two years. I'll reminice on being a backpacker another time.

My corner of the blogging world seems pretty dead. Was the entire thing a trend we all caught onto and all moved on from? Did we all get lives, as we'd predicted? When we quit reading, did that discourage everyone else from writing? Sad, really. I'd always enjoyed the random prattlings and observations on the lives of people I'd, often, never meet.
It gave us a place to showcase our amateur writing. Somewhere to run out our frustrations, joys (small and large), fights, opinions... Whatever caught our fancy, really. Recording it all so we could look back on it in future years.
I don't know why I'm back. I could use a notebook. I know no one is reading this. I don't know how long it will last. Maybe knowing it will be posted on the internet makes me put a little more thought into my entries. I like a keyboard, where entire paragraphs... posts... can be obliterated with the push of a button. Plus, I like clicking on my archives, and seeing what I thought when I was twenty-three. That is, I like seeing what I thought when I was seventeen, I assume the same with apply.
However, I am out of practice. I remember thinking of things throughout the day to come home and record. Lame, maybe. I guess that was the lack of life (?) Now I can stare at a blank screen and have absolutely nothing that mildly resembles a reasonable idea. I guess that's where the benefit of having nobody reading this comes.

Getting ridiculously bored around here. I sprained my ankle two days ago at volleyball. Worst sprain of my life, which is saying quite a bit. Lucky, I guess, it didn't happen a week ago. This way I miss only a few days of my family being here, and only a few days of cherry picking. It's just getting fatter and worse, which is a little depressing. Then again, I lost patience on it pretty quick. I'm actually learning how to hobble around on my crutches.
People are huckleberrying. I am playing clue with Mike and Pigweed, reading, and wasting time on this here computer.
It's raining part of the time, though. I suppose that's in my favour.
It's been a good summer. Except that it's not nearly long enough, as usual
I have done a fairly decent job fitting in the things I wanted to do. I hope this foot heals within a reasonable time span (ie, end of the week), 'cause I'm pretty sure I could fit more ine. At least if this rain stops.

It's time for the, "I'm too busy and my cousins are here" post. This year it has a special twist. It's also the, "I get to be a super cool cherry picker" post as well.
No camping this round. Sad, but true. Their visit was pretty last minute. They laugh at those of us who get out of bed at quarter after four and go hang with the hippies. I'm pretty sure they go to bed right after us and then brag about the late night parties.
It's pretty usual. Lot's of laughing and wrestling. Tons of volleyball and river time. The biggest difference is I'm working and the lack of camping. Things don't really change all that much.
The cherry picking, it's good to be back. It's working to have my sister as crew boss, and my cousins as swampers. In fact, it's pretty much awesome. I'm faster then I remember, and all is well.
A quote from Abby. "How often do we get a chance to have a cousin summer like this."
Jan and Brian are living here. Jan in the bus with Meg and I, Brian in the basement. One big happy family. It's awesome to have them, and all of us back here. I need to appreciate it well I can!

It's hard to put down roots when you never stay anywhere. I guess it's a good thing, for the most part, that I had them pretty deep to start.
It's the worst part about moving around and experiencing different things. I am missing something, somebody, and somewhere no matter where I am. I'm at home now with all the people I love most. But I miss my Katima-kids, India, and not knowing a broken heart. I miss hostels, La Rivera, Jewish hippis, and driving tractor. If I stayed on the farm, I wouldn't miss any of that. You can't miss something you don't know. Can you?
I make friends fairly easily. I can meet someone else with a backpack and carry on a conversation. People like me. I love getting to know someone with no preconceived opinions. Without a set idea of how I'm supposed to be. I enjoy keeping in touch with the people I've lived with. But, essentially, the only close relationships I have left are the ones I'm related too. And as strong and healthy as those are, I also miss having a best friend. Not the cool random kids who come by our house and joke with us. Not the past acquaintances I sometimes hang-out with when I'm around, or the people I still write to on facebook. Someone who calls me up on their days off. Who doesn't always agree with me, but knows what I think, and respects it. Who loves my letters, and takes the time to stay in touch. I miss staying up way too late because neither of us wants to go to sleep. Or dreaming of road trips, camp fires, and forming a band. (although I still have this with my amazing cousins and sibs).
I've had friends like that. Good friends. Friends I've loved with my whole heart. I don't know why I always lose them. It frustrates me to no end. But they stab me in the back, walk away, or move on. Because I don't want to? Do I try too hard, hold on to tight? Because God is trying to teach me something? Maybe I just need to learn to realize when it's time to let a good thing go. At least, if I get the chance to need to, again.

Three factors. Day off to be had for all, parents away, power outage.
At least I suppose that's what fueled our night. When the power first goes off you think there's nothing to do. No computer, reading, music. So you end up sitting around by candle light talking to people.
Somehow this degenerated. Megan was the first to mention our participation in a new cult. We sat gathered around a cluster of candles banging the table in time chanting, "Pigweed, Pigweed, Pigweed!" Someone laid out a fudgicle in the middle of the candles for us to focus on.
We tried playing "monster billy bally". I had almost forgotten this glorious game. As children it was our replacement for being deprived of horror movies. Every time Mom went out Dad would become the evil Billy Bally. We would huddle on my parent's bed until we worked up the courage to venture into the dark unknown. My little sibs would follow closely behind me. At least, until Joel became the cocky little blond he would prove to be and would boldly lead well shouting that Billy Bally was dumb.
When Billy Bally came roaring out of the darkness we turned an fled. Sometimes making it to the bed, sometimes being fully tickled en route.
We went crusing to check out the source of outage (power pole down on the lower road). As we left the power came back, but we still cranked Brian's techno in Michael's very jammed beater sportster. Renn and Jan followed on the bike. We hit all greens as we burned down main. For Saturday night it was very empty. Summer air coming through the window.
We stayed up too late sharing family stories, gossip, and memories. Oh, the glory of being able to sleep in.