Nature is messy

Nature is clearly trying to tell me something.

Monday morning, I was trying to leave my house to head to my internship when I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye.

A GIANT BUNNY WAS UNDER MY CAR.

Now, no one loves a giant, fluffy bunny like I do.  But this one was not a typical rabbit.

Initially, I figured, "Well, bunnies are skittish and jumpy so this fluffy biscuit will be gone in no time."

He didn't just sit down.  He laid down.  And he stared at me.  I've never seen a rabbit so inclined to take a load off.

I thought, "Fine.  You hang out while I go get the mail.  I'll read you my credit card statement.  Then you'll fall asleep and I can't grab you and release you back into the greater 'Animal Planet'."

While I walked to the mailbox, he ever so leisurely hopped out from under my car, stopped to contemplate his existence and his place in the time/space continuum, and then proceeded to my back yard.

Next, I was driving to my internship, which is about a 40 minute drive depending on whether or not I get stuck behind a tractor-trailer on the 2-lane highway.

As I was attempting to make up for lost time, thanks to the giant bunny and his nonchalant attitude toward my punctuality, I was whipping right along at...the legally posted speed limit.

All of a sudden, a butterfly ended its life on my windshield.  This was regrettable as butterflies only live for a few months (I looked it up) and my need to drive exactly as fast as the speed limit suggests added to this poor creature's demise.

Once on the 2-lane highway, I got caught not behind a tractor-trailer, but a regular person who likes to drive 45 mph in a 55.  After resigning myself to this speed, we slowed down to 30.  Before I could get one complete string of profanity out of my mouth, I saw why.

In the center of the road was a dead baby deer.

What the WHAT?  Nature is out of control and as far as attention-getting measures go, this seemed extreme (yes, I tend to think things like this revolve directly around me).

When relaying this story later that day, I was informed that both a rabbit and a deer crossing my path is supposed to suggest change and new experiences.  The butterfly means love and joy are coming my way.

I think that perhaps when one of those critters is splattered in the middle of the road and the other ricocheted off of my windshield, it might skew that meaning ever so slightly.

Good thing the bunny made it out alive...

If I wanted to lick a hippie, I'd return Joan Baez's phone calls

Last Sunday, I got all up in nature.

I went down to a swimming hole with my friends Gilda* and Consuela*.  We built a fire, ate hamburgers and drank wine straight from the bottle like the classy broads we are.

And as wacky as that was for me, the real madness didn't start until later in the day.

After our romp in nature had concluded, we started hiking back to Consuela's car.  As we got closer, we saw a half-naked gentleman standing nearby.  When he saw us, he darted into the bushes.

As we reached the car, the half-naked gentleman reappeared from the brush.  While he was very good looking, he also smelled like decomposing wombat.

Half-naked gentleman: Are you guys with the group?  (I moved to stand upwind of him.)
Consuela: What group?
HNG: The raw foods group.
All three of us: -crickets-
HNG: My name is Hansel* and I'm the leader of a raw foods seminar.  We've been walking through the forest and eating all we can!
Me: Of course you are.
Consuela: Wait- like berries and shit or like squirrels?
HNG: (obviously annoyed) We eat plants.  You can eat so many things, you know!
All three of us: -crickets-

Hansel soon tired of us and returned to his group.  We got in the car and started back up the mountain, but this group of tree-lickers wouldn't get out of our way.

It had just started raining when a man from the group walked right up to the car and said, "Are you headed up the mountain?"

We weren't sure how to respond because we didn't know which answer would keep him from getting in the car with us.

"Well, we're headed back to her apartment," Consuela said, pointing to Gilda.

"Great, I need a lift."  He opened the car door and started to hop in.

"Oh, are you girls headed back up the mountain?"

We heard another voice and saw an older woman leaning heavily on a walking stick, making her way to the car.

 Oh, hell.

The first guy had already started to get in the car next to Gilda.  The woman was looking into the car hopefully.

The backseat was already full with Gilda, her dog and this rather forward man who proclaimed to have a broken toe.  The woman got in, complaining of a broken foot.

As the woman got in, a third person came up to the driver's side window and said, "Do you have room for one more?"

I was about to ask these people if they were mistaking this Mitsubishi for a clown car, but Gilda was quick to respond that there was no more room in the inn.

Looking back at our passengers, I glanced at Consuela and mumbled, "I'm going to look for something sharp..."

With all 6 of us strapped in and Consuela's gas light flashing at us, we started to make our way back up the mountain.

When we dropped off our stowaways, the man made a point of saying, "The next time you need a favor, it'll be there for you.  I promise."

You betcha.

We were grateful to have the vehicle back to ourselves and that no one tried to cleanse our auras by setting the car on fire while shoving fig leaves down our throats.

Before heading back to Gilda's apartment, we stopped off at the local abandoned transcendentalist temple and trespassed like professionals.

I couldn't make this up if I tried.

So, while this was one of the most interesting and bizarre experiences I've ever had, I'm pretty sure for a lot of people it would be classified as just another day in Boone.



*I have changed the names in this story purely for my own amusement.

Monkey see, monkey do, monkey eat your face off

My last day in Hong Kong started pleasantly enough.

Sonya and I woke up, spooned, had some breakfast and made plans for the day.

As a final activity, Sonya suggested this place called Monkey Hill where macaque monkeys go to see and be seen without boundaries or fences stifling their individuality.  It sounded like fun.

I mean, monkeys are cute and whimsical, right?  What's not to like?

We arrived at the park and soon realized it was less of a Monkey Starbucks where the macaques go to socialize and write poetry and more of a five mile hike in a forest.

At the beginning of the trail was a sign instructing us how to prevent a Monkey Attack.  Most of it was self-explanatory stuff telling us not to feed the monkeys or have food at all, not to tease the monkeys, not to use flash photography and not to look them directly in the eye.

Oh, foreshadowing...

We walked for about an hour, coming across two or three monkeys that mostly ignored us from the trees.  We assumed it was Monkey Nap-time and went about our business.

Once we'd walked for a little while, we decided we should head back.

But first, we decided to take a picture on the Monkey Altar.

This is where things started to get uncivilized.

As we made our way back, we noticed more and more monkeys collecting on the trail and up in the trees.  Suddenly, it seemed like they were everywhere.

I was getting nervous, but reminded myself that they're used to people and shouldn't be that interested in either of us as we didn't have food and weren't challenging them to a dance-off.

The trail, I should mention, was rather narrow and Sonya and I had to walk single file.  So, when a monkey was sitting smack in the middle of the trail, it was almost impossible to go around it without basically stepping over it.

And that's exactly what happened.

As we walked, two monkeys had set up shop in the center of the trail.  I looked behind us and saw a few more coming down the way.

"Sonya!" I hissed.  "They know we desecrated the Monkey Altar!   It's a trap!"

At this point, I think we were both on Monkey Alert.

We were stationary for a few minutes, trying to look nonchalant while hoping the two blocking the trail would become inspired and head off to work on their respective novels.

No such luck.

As I was in front, Sonya suggested I climb over a giant rock on the side of the trail to somewhat bypass the two blocking our escape.

As calmly and quickly as I could, I took her advice and successfully moved beyond Monkey Impasse.  I thought Sonya was behind me but soon learned she had not been as lucky.

I looked back and saw that she was sandwiched between the rock and 3 monkeys who had cornered her.  One was particularly interested in her and slowly started moving toward her.

Sonya was completely frozen.

I was probably 20 feet away and completely paralyzed.  I was desperately trying to dig deep into the recesses of my National Geographic and Animal Planet education to think of anything I could use to help her.

The same monkey was completely fixated on her, just staring at her.  All of a sudden, it made an awful noise that the internet calls a grunt.

And all I could think to say was, "Don't look at it!"

It opened its mouth, baring its teeth and actually faked a lunge.

Sonya ran.  I ran.

We ran out of that awful place, praying to the Monkey Gods that they weren't following us to make us pay for desecrating the Monkey Altar with flash photography.

Poor Sonya has a brand new phobia and I have reinforced my pre-existing idea that I DO NOT BELONG IN NATURE.

As it turns out, the deck was stacked against us from the beginning:

• Monkeys don't like water bottles, sunglasses or jewelry because they're shiny (we had all of these)
• Monkeys don't like backpacks or large bags because they know it's where we tend to keep the food
• Monkeys are far more likely to attack women and children than men
• Monkeys are made from mayonnaise and evil

Thank God they weren't packing heat.


**I'm removing the ability to post anonymously because I'm sick of spam.  I would like to apologize to Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker.  It's not me, it's you.

Buddha requires decaf

The weather, though much warmer than NC, has not been ideal.

Sonya decided I need to ask Buddha if he could do something about it.

I thought that seemed reasonable.

So, we got a couple of Sonya's friends and went on a death-defying trip across the mountains in a glass-bottom cable car to ask Buddha if he has any sway over the weather.

Do you see that below?  That's nature!

Frightened of Buddha?  Or frightened of enlightenment...?

Does this look like the beginning of a horror movie to anyone else?

We managed to entertain ourselves along the way.

 I'll bet you didn't know the Statue of Liberty was hilarious, did you?

Andy had a moment of German pride.  I helped.

Buddha, show me the path... to the elevator, dammit!

That is one fuzzy religious icon

Look, Buddha!  We brought you a nonfat, decaf soy latte with mocha sprinkles!

The view from our cable car

Later, on the subway ride back to the hotel, this happened:

The subway was stuffed like sausage casing and this woman chose to get on and just stare at me the entire time.

Naturally, this sent me into hysterical laughter which made me cry.  And then laugh some more.

Being the awesome friend that she is, Sonya captured it on her iPhone so I could share it with the world.

This woman was so close that she was quite literally on me.  It looks like there is a little space between us in the picture but there most definitely was not.

She was on me.  And she was angry.

Son of a Nutcracker!

I don't know if I've made this clear, but I am a Fanilow.

Not familiar with the term?

Well, first of all, shame on you.

Second, isn't it obvious?  I am a fan of the Manilow.  FANILOW.

For my money, he really does write the songs that make the whole world sing.

However, I caught a glimpse of him on the Today show this week, and boy howdy, does he look like he's been saran wrapped.

Even better, I found this fantastic video of him singing Rick Astley's hit, "Never Gonna Give You Up".

He can still sing, bless him, but it looks like he can't really move his face.

(The Man won't let me post it on here, so if you're so inclined, please observe.)

What really disturbs me is that the older he gets, the more he looks like Anne Murray.  Lookit:

 

Which one is which?

You tell me.











On another note, I have given in to the holiday spirit.

My roommates and I got our tree yesterday.  The whole experience was far less romantic than I imagined.

In this part of North Carolina, we grow us some pretty bitchin' trees as it turns out.

Look!  Nature!

We tromped around the grounds of one such place, assessing height and shape.  Having never been in such a place, I was overwhelmed with the fantastic smell and was all but taking hits off the branches.

He was a fatty and we liked him, but alas, too tall.

When we had chosen our tree, someone came and cut it down.  With a chainsaw.  Then he dragged it away, tossed it on his little cart and drove it to our car.

No pomp.  No ceremony.  All business.

I was sort of hoping he'd cut it down with an axe, while whistling "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas", then pull his corn-cob pipe out of his jacket and smoke it while telling us a story from his childhood.

He did not.

Either way, the tree is up! 

Um... it's a little too tall.  What to do?

So, what happens when your tree scratches the ceiling?  One retrieves one's hatchet, of course!

  Yeah, this really happened.

After James killed it and we got it all set up, we decorated.

  I named him Hugh.

After that, I made James put his hatchet back in his car.  He seemed confused as to why I was so uncomfortable with a MINI AXE IN THE HOUSE.

Idon'tlikeitIdon'tlikeitIdon'tlikeitIdon'tlikeit.

 

The soundtrack to Elf is currently in the CD player of my car.  It's the next best thing when your mom steals your copy  you can't find your copy of the DVD.

This mess is gonna get raw like sushi

This week, my parents, two cars and a U-Haul moved me to North Carolina.

If someone were to ask me to compare it to Indiana, I would say, "Well, it's pretty much the same. You know, except when it's not."

There are a lot of similarities. For example, they drive just as poorly here, the grammar is colorful and the local commercials make your insides cringe.

On the flip side, most people are wildly polite, they're missing even more of their teeth and everywhere you go, you're either going up a hill or coming down one.

This last one is the hardest for me to get over.

I lived in Northwest Indiana for almost 15 years and let me tell you, that crap is flat.

I don't know why, of all things, this is the one that makes me so unsettled, but it's like straight up culture shock. Mountains. Who knew?

Oh! And there is nature everywhere! Don't get me wrong- it's beautiful. I just don't know what to do with it. I feel as though I should be outside all the time, hugging trees, frolicking with raccoons and licking the moss for nutrients.

Well, whatever. I live here now.

My house is, of course, on a hill.

The neighbors.
That small child makes enough noise to rival a troop of howler monkeys.

My room as it currently appears

This is my adjustment period and I have no doubt that I will be "y'all"ing and "reckon"ing in no time.

Now, I reckon it's getting late, so y'all piss off now, ya hear?

Onward, scholastic soldiers!

I can't remember if I've officially announced this or not (and I'm too lazy to check), but I'm going to grad school this Fall.

When I first started telling people of my return to academics, I got one of two very strong reactions.

Reaction A
Man 1: So, what are you up to these days?
Sara: Well, I'm heading to Appalachian State in the Fall to study marriage and family therapy.
Man 1: Wow, that sounds really interesting! Good luck with that!

Reaction B
Woman 1: So, what's next for you?
Sara: Well, I'm heading to Appalachian State in the Fall to study marriage and family therapy.
Woman 1: Oh. That's not music.
Sara: No, but I'll still sing and take lessons. I'm just really excited to, you know, have a job and insurance.
Woman 1: Huh. Well, that's... different.

Mind you, both examples of these reactions generally come from seventy-five year old men and women at my church who probably don't understand what MFT is and think it's some sort of hippie lingo the kids use these days. I don't take it personally.

I have to say, I'm really looking forward to being a student again. I know it won't be exactly like my undergrad, which makes me a little sad. There are some aspects, however, that will probably be pretty similar.

For example, when else in life can you skip showering for days at a time, order Chinese at 2am and nap in the middle of the day without someone being concerned? Should anyone have the audacity to say, "Wow, you look really tired" or "Have you recently taken up meth?", you get to smugly reply, "Don't worry about it. I'm a grad student."

It explains all manner of sins.

I do, of course, have a few reservations. Will I be able to keep up with the course load? Can I meet all the requirements? Will I be forced to interact with the surrounding wilderness?

Yeah, you heard me.

The best and worst thing about Boone, the tiny town in North Carolina that hosts App State, is the vast expanse of mountains, trees, flowers and general nature. Of course, it is absolutely beautiful... and I plan to appreciate that beauty from afar. During my two years, however, I'm sure someone is going to try and make me hike, canoe, camp, etc. God forbid.

If you have any other questions for me, feel free to drop me a comment. Or, I would direct your attention to the video clip below. Whether or not you have questions for me, I beg of you to watch it.