~10April2019
Tuesday morning came and went in Austin.
Ixchel's birthday.
My scheduled departure time.
The plan was for Ixchel and I to stay together Monday, get birthday breakfast Tuesday, and have me leave for Georgia from there. I suppose plans are made to be broken, aren't they? Or wait...I guess that's rules. Either way, it's safe to say things did *not* go according to plan.
It started Sunday night, as I got off my last shift at North Door...a tender ache in my back. The kind of sensitivity I feel as a fever forms in my body. But no way! I couldn't be getting sick! It would pass, I told myself as I joined my friends for a last round of goodbye drinks after work.
Monday morning I knew my mistake as my body ached upon waking. But still, I persisted. It was my last day in town, things had to be done, errands had to be run...so I pushed. Loaded my van, bought new tires, went to Ixchel's as planned. But it was no use. By 7pm I was passed out on her bed, and at some point in the night, my body caught on fire...I spent three days with a fever ranging between 102 and 103. I was delusional, unable to separate dreams from reality. I could barely stay awake long enough to eat or drink anything, and it seemed entire days slipped by without me having any concept of time. I suppose they really did. So that's how Tuesday morning came and went. Not to mention Monday and Wednesday, as well.
Here's the problem...waiting for me all nice and lined up months ago, is a job in Fairburn, Georgia. One I should have been at the previous Saturday, but which I certainly couldn't arrive to later than the approaching Friday. So by Wednesday night, despite protests from my mom, I decided I couldn't afford to wait any longer. My things, myself, and my raging flu loaded into my boat (van) and began the 1,000 miles from Austin to Fairburn. Because if I say I'm gonna do something...I do it. That's the only choice.
12April2019
I sit in my van, head on the steering wheel, dejected and exhausted, for no more than two minutes before my new neighbor approaches. I've finally made it to the Georgia Ren Faire and gotten checked in, but I'm so tired and sick that the thought of maneuvering my van around all the cars and trucks thrown together on this hill into the position they want me to be in is almost overwhelming.
"Hey, you okay?" My neighbor asks through my open window.
I turn my face without lifting my head, "Hi. Am I in your way here? Because this isn't the final position I'm supposed to be in, but I'm so sick and I just got in from Texas. Could I deal with this in a few days?" I feel pathetic asking him this, but my body doesn't want to move.
"Yeah, of course! Take a nap, get some rest. You made it, lady. Does your throat hurt?"
I nod slowly.
"Got cha. I'll make you some tea. Just relax, there's no need to deal with this today."
I nod gratefully, climb out of the driver seat and into the main cabin, opening the side door so he knows it's okay to come by, and crawl onto my bed.
He pops back up a few minutes later, two cups in his hands.
"Alright, here you go. It's throat coat with some other herbs and oils added in there to help with your recovery. One for now, and one for when you wake up from your nap. My girlfriend and I are in that tent," he points right in front of my van. "Just holler if you need anything. We're going to the store later if you want us to grab you something. Otherwise, just let us know what you need. Feel better!"
And with that, he's off on his own mission.
I sip the tea and start to relax into my bed and think about how grateful I am for this community. Where strangers give you tea and check up on you when you're sick. Because it doesn't matter if we don't know each other...I'm in the community, and I don't feel good, so he's willing to help.
"I know how hard it is to be sick, alone, and a thousand miles from home," he said to me during one of our interactions.
My eyes well up the tiniest bit as I drink my tea...because I'm not alone. I made it home. One of my many homes. In the pines. With the gypsies.
"Hey, Saturday is family dinner night and you're invited," Kendra tells me half-way through our first faire day of the season. "I'm making chicken noodle soup!"
"And I'm grilling sandwiches," Bryan pipes in.
"Oh...shit, guys, I haven't had a chance to grocery shop since I got here..."
"That's okay, just bring yourself!" They encourage me, "We're gonna eat around 7."
Being sick sucks...always...no getting around that. But I've felt incredibly humbled since arriving in Georgia by the generosity of friends and strangers around me.
18April2019
The thunder cracks over head as the rain beats viciously on my van. I pull my legs towards my chest, and a new sensation pulls me towards consciousness.
What is that..? My sleepy brain wonders.
I wiggle myself into a tighter ball.
Ugh, it's cold.
Wait...shit.
Suddenly I'm very awake. Bolting upright in the darkness of an early morning or late night. I reach my hand out, seeking the cold sensation. Yup...my bed is soaking wet. I feel toward the back window, thinking maybe I forgot to close them, but nope, the latch is tight in place. I run my fingers along the edge and the water pours in over my hands and forearms. Where is it coming from?? I scramble to turn the lights on and can see that nothing above the door is wet. Maybe it's just not closed tightly enough... I open the back door into the storm, and slam it closed as the rain sprays me in the face. The waterfall inside my van stops.
I breathe a sign of relief, which is quickly abandoned as I glance down. There is a standing puddle of water in my bed, as it was pouring in faster than it was being absorbed. I grab some clothes from nearby, but there's too much water for them to absorb.
Eventually I get the excess soaked up to the best of my ability and check the time. 4am. I drop back into my bed. There's nothing I can really do until the rain stops, which is forecast for two days from now. May as well get some sleep.
Ahh, the adventures of road life.
Saturday morning comes and the rain hasn't let up. It's morphed to a persistent drizzle accompanied by a cold wind, and everyone is bundled tightly in their warmest costuming, heads down, aiming for work. It's a rough start to the weekend, but we crack jokes and laugh with patrons throughout the day, because when you work two days a week, you don''t let the cold stop you. By Easter Sunday, the sun is shining again. Hooray.
My life currently consists of many hours a week sitting in the door of my van with a plate full of fresh food, listening to bluegrass, and staring at the swaying pine forest. Hours reading. Coloring. Talking with friends. If you ask me what I did in the week, perhaps it wouldn't sound like much. But it's all these peaceful moments...small details...that build the life I love. Watching the forest. That's where I'm happiest.
To all my friends sustaining city lives...remember to breathe from time to time.
24April2019
Yesterday was one of those days where the kid inside you shakes it's little head, yawns a mighty yawn, and cracks open a sleepy little eye to survey the world and decide that today...today it gets to run the body and the grown up needs to take a nap.
I gather my guitar and a cup of tea and head towards Mira and Chelsea's camp, intending on a quiet hour of practice before I need to get ready for our hike later in the day. As I trek down the short road to their camp site, the smell of fresh pancakes permeates the air and my stomach protests quietly with hunger as I sip my tea instead.
I can hear their voices in the easy-up as I approach.
"Come on, Chelsea, I don't wanna go alone! Come eat pancakes!"
"I don't really want to..."
"Hey, guys," I step around the tarp and under the cover. "You going to Muppet camp for pancakes?"
"I want to, but I don't wanna go alone!"
"Well, I feel the same!" I laugh. "I don't really know anyone at that camp, but I'm down to adventure over there with you."
We arm ourselves with plates and forks and head back to the pancake smell. Our steps slow as we approach the camp, and even though I know they advertise pancake breakfast as being open to everyone, I still feel like a lost puppy approaching a strangers camp with an empty plate in hand.
The feeling doesn't last long. We take no more than two steps into their area before we're noticed and excited greetings are called from friends and acquaintances.
"You made it!! Welcome!"
"We're glad you came!"
"Pancakes are in a stack on the table, and the coffee's almost done brewing, dig in."
And we do.
The circle of camp chairs grows as we eat, and the excited chatter overlaps constantly, with dogs and people and kids coming in and out of camp in a steady flow. By the time we leave, our plan for a four person hike this afternoon has spread and morphed into a group of at least 12 people, the majority of them strangers who are to be friends by the end of the day, whether I know it or not. Though out here...it's pretty safe to assume that's how things are going to work.
Mira and I venture back to her camp after pancakes have been sufficiently devoured, and Chelsea greets us happily.
"Let's set up the blanket fort and make some food!"
So we tie sheets to the tall, mossy pine trees in the woods and lie on our backs, watching them sway.
We march down the narrow path through the woods in Cochran Mills Park toward the waterfalls. A parade of hippies and instruments and flow toys, my friends singing to each other, strumming ukuleles and banjos as they walk. Climbing trees. Being silly. Singing songs. Playing music. Being kids. I'm relieved to feel the comfort of being a kid again in these moments.
After the waterfall hike I'm feeling worn out in the best of ways. Sun kissed and wind swept and that healthy sort of tired. My friends remind me it's movie night at Muppet Camp, and I head over there at dark thirty. We spread a tapestry on the ground, amid all the others, pile pillows on one end, and curl up under the dusk sky to let the day fade away from us. As 30 hippies settle in to watch a movie together, I watch the stars appear one by one, and feel the tired satisfaction of a successful day. Feel the gratitude of people who are willing to be kids with me. Willing to remember the magic. From pancake breakfast, to fort building, to waterfall hikes, to movie night cuddle puddles...this is my tribe. My siblings. My friends. Other kids.
Thank you.
Tuesday morning came and went in Austin.
Ixchel's birthday.
My scheduled departure time.
The plan was for Ixchel and I to stay together Monday, get birthday breakfast Tuesday, and have me leave for Georgia from there. I suppose plans are made to be broken, aren't they? Or wait...I guess that's rules. Either way, it's safe to say things did *not* go according to plan.
It started Sunday night, as I got off my last shift at North Door...a tender ache in my back. The kind of sensitivity I feel as a fever forms in my body. But no way! I couldn't be getting sick! It would pass, I told myself as I joined my friends for a last round of goodbye drinks after work.
Monday morning I knew my mistake as my body ached upon waking. But still, I persisted. It was my last day in town, things had to be done, errands had to be run...so I pushed. Loaded my van, bought new tires, went to Ixchel's as planned. But it was no use. By 7pm I was passed out on her bed, and at some point in the night, my body caught on fire...I spent three days with a fever ranging between 102 and 103. I was delusional, unable to separate dreams from reality. I could barely stay awake long enough to eat or drink anything, and it seemed entire days slipped by without me having any concept of time. I suppose they really did. So that's how Tuesday morning came and went. Not to mention Monday and Wednesday, as well.
Here's the problem...waiting for me all nice and lined up months ago, is a job in Fairburn, Georgia. One I should have been at the previous Saturday, but which I certainly couldn't arrive to later than the approaching Friday. So by Wednesday night, despite protests from my mom, I decided I couldn't afford to wait any longer. My things, myself, and my raging flu loaded into my boat (van) and began the 1,000 miles from Austin to Fairburn. Because if I say I'm gonna do something...I do it. That's the only choice.
 |
| Sick, but smiling. Last moments in Austin, saying bye to my mom. |
 |
| Van sleepover with my baby sister before I left <3 |
12April2019
I sit in my van, head on the steering wheel, dejected and exhausted, for no more than two minutes before my new neighbor approaches. I've finally made it to the Georgia Ren Faire and gotten checked in, but I'm so tired and sick that the thought of maneuvering my van around all the cars and trucks thrown together on this hill into the position they want me to be in is almost overwhelming.
"Hey, you okay?" My neighbor asks through my open window.
I turn my face without lifting my head, "Hi. Am I in your way here? Because this isn't the final position I'm supposed to be in, but I'm so sick and I just got in from Texas. Could I deal with this in a few days?" I feel pathetic asking him this, but my body doesn't want to move.
"Yeah, of course! Take a nap, get some rest. You made it, lady. Does your throat hurt?"
I nod slowly.
"Got cha. I'll make you some tea. Just relax, there's no need to deal with this today."
I nod gratefully, climb out of the driver seat and into the main cabin, opening the side door so he knows it's okay to come by, and crawl onto my bed.
He pops back up a few minutes later, two cups in his hands.
"Alright, here you go. It's throat coat with some other herbs and oils added in there to help with your recovery. One for now, and one for when you wake up from your nap. My girlfriend and I are in that tent," he points right in front of my van. "Just holler if you need anything. We're going to the store later if you want us to grab you something. Otherwise, just let us know what you need. Feel better!"
And with that, he's off on his own mission.
I sip the tea and start to relax into my bed and think about how grateful I am for this community. Where strangers give you tea and check up on you when you're sick. Because it doesn't matter if we don't know each other...I'm in the community, and I don't feel good, so he's willing to help.
"I know how hard it is to be sick, alone, and a thousand miles from home," he said to me during one of our interactions.
My eyes well up the tiniest bit as I drink my tea...because I'm not alone. I made it home. One of my many homes. In the pines. With the gypsies.
"Hey, Saturday is family dinner night and you're invited," Kendra tells me half-way through our first faire day of the season. "I'm making chicken noodle soup!"
"And I'm grilling sandwiches," Bryan pipes in.
"Oh...shit, guys, I haven't had a chance to grocery shop since I got here..."
"That's okay, just bring yourself!" They encourage me, "We're gonna eat around 7."
 |
| Kendra and Bryan setting up our pub in the morning. The Drunk Monk team! |
Being sick sucks...always...no getting around that. But I've felt incredibly humbled since arriving in Georgia by the generosity of friends and strangers around me.
 |
| Forest picnic with some of the best women I know. |
18April2019
The thunder cracks over head as the rain beats viciously on my van. I pull my legs towards my chest, and a new sensation pulls me towards consciousness.
What is that..? My sleepy brain wonders.
I wiggle myself into a tighter ball.
Ugh, it's cold.
Wait...shit.
Suddenly I'm very awake. Bolting upright in the darkness of an early morning or late night. I reach my hand out, seeking the cold sensation. Yup...my bed is soaking wet. I feel toward the back window, thinking maybe I forgot to close them, but nope, the latch is tight in place. I run my fingers along the edge and the water pours in over my hands and forearms. Where is it coming from?? I scramble to turn the lights on and can see that nothing above the door is wet. Maybe it's just not closed tightly enough... I open the back door into the storm, and slam it closed as the rain sprays me in the face. The waterfall inside my van stops.
I breathe a sign of relief, which is quickly abandoned as I glance down. There is a standing puddle of water in my bed, as it was pouring in faster than it was being absorbed. I grab some clothes from nearby, but there's too much water for them to absorb.
Eventually I get the excess soaked up to the best of my ability and check the time. 4am. I drop back into my bed. There's nothing I can really do until the rain stops, which is forecast for two days from now. May as well get some sleep.
Ahh, the adventures of road life.
Saturday morning comes and the rain hasn't let up. It's morphed to a persistent drizzle accompanied by a cold wind, and everyone is bundled tightly in their warmest costuming, heads down, aiming for work. It's a rough start to the weekend, but we crack jokes and laugh with patrons throughout the day, because when you work two days a week, you don''t let the cold stop you. By Easter Sunday, the sun is shining again. Hooray.
My life currently consists of many hours a week sitting in the door of my van with a plate full of fresh food, listening to bluegrass, and staring at the swaying pine forest. Hours reading. Coloring. Talking with friends. If you ask me what I did in the week, perhaps it wouldn't sound like much. But it's all these peaceful moments...small details...that build the life I love. Watching the forest. That's where I'm happiest.
To all my friends sustaining city lives...remember to breathe from time to time.
24April2019
Yesterday was one of those days where the kid inside you shakes it's little head, yawns a mighty yawn, and cracks open a sleepy little eye to survey the world and decide that today...today it gets to run the body and the grown up needs to take a nap.
I gather my guitar and a cup of tea and head towards Mira and Chelsea's camp, intending on a quiet hour of practice before I need to get ready for our hike later in the day. As I trek down the short road to their camp site, the smell of fresh pancakes permeates the air and my stomach protests quietly with hunger as I sip my tea instead.
I can hear their voices in the easy-up as I approach.
"Come on, Chelsea, I don't wanna go alone! Come eat pancakes!"
"I don't really want to..."
"Hey, guys," I step around the tarp and under the cover. "You going to Muppet camp for pancakes?"
"I want to, but I don't wanna go alone!"
"Well, I feel the same!" I laugh. "I don't really know anyone at that camp, but I'm down to adventure over there with you."
We arm ourselves with plates and forks and head back to the pancake smell. Our steps slow as we approach the camp, and even though I know they advertise pancake breakfast as being open to everyone, I still feel like a lost puppy approaching a strangers camp with an empty plate in hand.
The feeling doesn't last long. We take no more than two steps into their area before we're noticed and excited greetings are called from friends and acquaintances.
"You made it!! Welcome!"
"We're glad you came!"
"Pancakes are in a stack on the table, and the coffee's almost done brewing, dig in."
And we do.
The circle of camp chairs grows as we eat, and the excited chatter overlaps constantly, with dogs and people and kids coming in and out of camp in a steady flow. By the time we leave, our plan for a four person hike this afternoon has spread and morphed into a group of at least 12 people, the majority of them strangers who are to be friends by the end of the day, whether I know it or not. Though out here...it's pretty safe to assume that's how things are going to work.
Mira and I venture back to her camp after pancakes have been sufficiently devoured, and Chelsea greets us happily.
"Let's set up the blanket fort and make some food!"
So we tie sheets to the tall, mossy pine trees in the woods and lie on our backs, watching them sway.
 |
| Setting up our blanket fort! |
We march down the narrow path through the woods in Cochran Mills Park toward the waterfalls. A parade of hippies and instruments and flow toys, my friends singing to each other, strumming ukuleles and banjos as they walk. Climbing trees. Being silly. Singing songs. Playing music. Being kids. I'm relieved to feel the comfort of being a kid again in these moments.
 |
| Into the woods we go! |
After the waterfall hike I'm feeling worn out in the best of ways. Sun kissed and wind swept and that healthy sort of tired. My friends remind me it's movie night at Muppet Camp, and I head over there at dark thirty. We spread a tapestry on the ground, amid all the others, pile pillows on one end, and curl up under the dusk sky to let the day fade away from us. As 30 hippies settle in to watch a movie together, I watch the stars appear one by one, and feel the tired satisfaction of a successful day. Feel the gratitude of people who are willing to be kids with me. Willing to remember the magic. From pancake breakfast, to fort building, to waterfall hikes, to movie night cuddle puddles...this is my tribe. My siblings. My friends. Other kids.
Thank you.
 |
Smile bright and breathe easy, friends <3 Thanks for reading!
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