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.

I am so busy. There is so much worth doing. So many jobs to have, people to see, trips to take, books to read. Although those books have taken back seat these days.

It's so cool having to have a summer at home. So much at home. To know those I haven't known for too long. Work in orchards, which I haven't for too long. Ride my bike, which I haven't for too long.
I do love the mountains. I tell everyone I actually came back for the lake. And I suppose that's partially true. I want my seasonal work. But it's the people that are keeping me here, and that will be hard to leave.
How come I know so many awesome people? I don't take the time to invest in my friendships and relationships anymore. I don't know if I know how, really. Especially with the childhood friends I don't really talk to anymore. It's effort, time, and a certain amount of skill.
I remember thinking that as I traveled the world. You meet people everywhere. Awesome people you want to know well enough to stay up late and talk to. I guess maybe it's an optimism you don't see in me very often... But I think that for this planet to run as well as it does, the majority of people have to be pretty decent. And a large percentage of those are really worth knowing. It's almost mind blowing to think of all the people I would get along with. All the stories I'll never know. The amount there is to learn from others.
However, I guess it's worth remembering that there's plenty of people worth knowing in my own little hometown. Plenty of conversations worth having. Maybe if I put the work into it... And we were all just a little less busy.

You know what I like to do? I like to go sit on you tube and play home karaoke. I run around the board from phantom of the opera, to Christina aguliera. Evanesence, Leona Lewis, and anything else that sounds like fun.
I guess I like challenges.

Last pick today. We hope. 260 pounds of saskatoons sitting in the cooler, ready for market. A few totes of cherries tonight, and we'll be ready to go.
My fingers are stained blue.
This has been my first stint being on the manager end of farming. It's been on the low risk end of things. A few hours and zip-lock bags. What would it be like if I'd invested my year, and hundreds of thousands of dollars?
Reason #1 I would find farming-for-real hard. The gamble. I just can't do it.
Reason #2. The commitment. Period.
Reason #3. I'm a hard worker. But I like my paycheck. And I like being able to camp in season.
I love farmers. They're great. And they keep hiring me. It would just be hard to do that every year for the rest of my life. To stress about harvest. To pour on the hours in hopes of a high pay-off.
Although, everyone says if you say that you end up married to one.... So maybe I take it back.

This is all crazy. Sometimes I think about the fact that there are nine people officially living here. And others that come and go. Was there really one year that I lived in my own house with just myself?
Ever since Katimavik I have no desire to go back to living on my own. Hostel dorms never bother me. I had four girls in my two bedroom house at one time, and now it's back to my families, plus. It's somehow right. I think we're supposed to live as with others.
My parents always talked about community. I don't think this is what they had in mind. I think they imagined a functioning little neighborhood where everyone shared the work of running the self-sustainable lifestyle.
Still. This is it right here. A group of people. Working together. Playing together. Fighting together. Living together.
Community. No?

So. Barefoot in summer. What a sweet time of year to come back. I think back to the years when barefoot in summer meant running through the backyard, driving a civic with my shoes off, stalking the aisles and feeling the cool tiles beneath my toes.
Then there was the year it meant kicking my sandals off on the way to my job at the hospital. Walking a small town path to a pretty big lake. Climbing onto the top of my metal bunk and praying for the girls beneath me.
Last year it was peeling my efficient runners off after a shift at the cafe. Volleyball sand between my toes. Running outside to drench myself under my hose.
This year I've gone in reverse. There's not even a little hatchback. No shopping for my own groceries. I'm climbing around in orchards hoping to make minimum, and coming home to my Mom's cooking. It's joking with my brothers, and giggling with my cousins. Nights climbing through the back door of our bus, and listening to Taylor Swift as I fall asleep.
It's my summer to be home. Oh, and to catch rides or my bike to the lake, river, and volleyball courts.

Over a year.
Well over a year.
After trying quite possibly 72 different combinations, and accidentally setting up a new account, I have remembered how to sign into my once beloved blog.
Twitter set me off. Reading old posts made me want to write new ones. It's unfortunate, really, that I gave it up for so long.
I know nobody reads it anymore. I know I don't have the time to dedicate that I did when I was seventeen. I know facebook likes to dominate my online time. But I'll see what I can do.

I can't believe how I never post here anymore. Of course, I just really don't get on the computer this much.
I want to put time into a post again. I want to think of what I want to say and how I want to say it. Instead, I'm in the library watching the time tick, and thinking, "I'd better get going."