The Tying Up of Loose Ends

For those who have been on tenterhooks (1. noun, historical: a hook used to fasten cloth on a drying frame or tenter.  2. phrase: in a state of suspense or agitation because of uncertainty about a future event) about certain parts of my life, a brief epilogue:

The beach was... unspeakably fantastic.  Day 1 - Good camp site, gorgeous weather inducing planned beer buzz AND slight sunburn (yes!!).  And banana boats* in the fire for dessert - what the hell kind of Girl Scout am I that I never had these before now?  Day 2 -  Totally posh hotel with jacuzzi on the deck.  A whole afternoon laying in warm water, watching the ocean.  The soggiest, toe-pruniest, best day I've had in a while.  Day 3 - Driving home a different and surprisingly speedy route, seeing new scenery and talking things through with myself.  What a weekend - not a single mosquito bite.  I'm pretty sure I dreamed the whole thing.

Our House... really is in the middle of our street.  And that street is off of Burnside.  This is it - this is where I've moved to, at least through Septemberish.  (With the friendly Alaskans, if you're curious.)

If you do click around on the Google street view, please don't be misled by the boarded up business across the street.  That's now a rockin', live-music-having, signature-spicy-sauce-serving wing restaurant.  Also I live within walking distance of a decent bar and a dive bar, two karaoke places, a comics shop and a fabric store.  Hello again, voluntary poverty!  So nice to see you so soon.  My housemates are great, even though I've been a ghost of a roommate - working long hours, house/dogsitting and going on vacation since I've "moved in."  My bed has a feather top, my closet has room enough for me to stand inside (barely), and my wall has a GIANT Hollenbeck-style calendar of the next two months of summer.  Everything's comin' up roses.

Trapeze class!... is silly and terrifying and inspiring, by turns.  This past Wednesday I actually stood up on top of the trapeze bar and felt my first frisson of fear in the whole process.  Hanging upside down by my hands and knees, then just my knees, had been no problem for me.  Balancing on top of someone else, or having someone else balance on me?  Grounding.  Safe.  The same kind of hippie skin-to-skin human reassurance gained from the Dance of Peace or contact improv.  But all on my own in the air, holding on with two fists where the ropes meet the large, sturdy carabiner was enough to make my breath come shallower and me rethink my position on so many things.  But back on the ground, rubbing chalk all over my hands for how silky and unreal it makes them feel (always ignoring how dry and brittle it makes them feel later), I can breathe easy again, and cheer on my classmates, and look around and realize we're all a bunch of "adults" practicing how to do handstands.  I could take my new-found knowledge and be the hit of the local playground - that's the level of success I'm aiming for here.  This is after only three classes.  Who knows what muscle groups I'll discover that I can make sore next time?

Einstein... is alive and kicking.  Well, the Man Himself is quite dead - his body resting in New Jersey, his brain in pieces in jars (true and gross) and his photographic self perpetually sticking his tongue out at some unknown photographer.  But in exhibit form, Einstein is doing quite well.  Working four ten-hour days (which is to be my regular summer schedule) is so far strange and empowering.  I overlap with my coworker/supervisor only one day per week, and the rest of the time am left alone to my own devices and judgment - scheduling and instructing volunteers, networking with other departments, planning and running demos for the public.  It's not absolute power, so I'd guess I'm only being corrupted partially.  Say, 63%.  It feels like an unexpected promotion - one of those with a change in title, an increase in responsibility, and not much else.  I don't mean to complain: I don't mind, and I don't feel put-upon.  The process of opening an exhibit when I never had before and wasn't sure if I could was an excellent professional experience.  And I even bollocksed up my main task in the process (volunteer scheduling), and the world hasn't come crashing down.  Actually, things are going pretty well in The Wonderful World of OMSI.  Next new exhibit opens in about 3 months.  I'll be ready.

*12-Step Banana Boats

Ingredients/Equipment: Banana.  Aluminum foil.  Chocolate chips, 

peanuts, cocoanut, granola, other delicious sprinkle-able things.

• Step 1: Peel one strip of peel off the concave side of the banana, but leave it attached at one end.
• Step 2: Scoop out some, but not all of the banana with a spoon so you have a boat-shape. (Get it?)
• Step 3: Fill the hollow in the banana with delicious sprinkle-able things.
• Step 4: Eat the banana scoopings and the delicious sprinkle-able things that fell out of the banana boat.  Dream about how much tastier this will all be when it's warm and gooey.
• Step 5: Lay the strip of peel back over the banana and delicious sprinkle-able things.
• Step 6: Wrap the whole dang thing in aluminum foil.
• Step 7: Nestle it lovingly in the hot coals of a campfire.
• Step 8: Stare at the campfire for a while and forget about everything else.  That's a good fire.
• Step 9:  Rotate the banana boats so the other side of it gets lovingly nestled in the coals, too.
• Step 10: Take 'em out after 10 minutes or more, let 'em cool on the side of the fire.
• Step 11: Unwrap and nom.  Beware leakage of hot banana boat fluids.  I'm just saying.
• Step 12:  Recycle your aluminum foil!  Compost your peel!  Drown your campfire!  It's the right thing to do.