Wildflowers

Today has been one of those days that summer post cards are made from. Bright sunshine, big fluffy clouds, slight breeze -- and clear air, without humidity for the first time in weeks. In appreciation, I felt the need to go for a drive.

As I wound my way through the central Pennsylvania countryside with the windows down, and the music turned up, I smiled. Farmers were cutting hay, and bundling wheat. The air carried the sweetness of timothy grass baking in the sunshine, and the slightly tangy scent of tended earth. It smelled like home.

I followed the meandering back country roads until I came to Penns Creek. I pulled off onto the shoulder, and stepped out of the car. The air still carried the smells from the farms up on the ridge, but there it blended with the smells of moss and wildflowers. I climbed up on the hood of my car, and stretched back against the windshield, and let the sun warm my skin. I looked to my right, down at the creek bank, and saw pretty purple-blue wildflowers dancing in the breeze -- and with them, a memory danced across my mind.

I was almost eight, and I had begged to go. So, there I sat, on the bench seat next to my father, as we lumbered across the hayfield in the 1963 GMC flat bed, that my father had just finished playing Frankenstein with to get to run without skipping. There was no air conditioning in the old relic, and the summer heat had collected and settled in the cab without mercy. Sweat beaded on my father's shaved head, and had my sun-bleached blond curls sticking to my neck. I didn't particularly notice.

We pulled up alongside a small caravan of jeeps, and pick-up trucks. I scrambled out of the GMC and ran to jump into the arms of Dave, my father's friend that I absolutely adored. "Well hey there, Carrie Jo. What are you doing here?"

"I'm goin' hayin'!" I grinned like the Cheshire Cat, showing off two big dimples, and a missing front tooth.

Dave feigned shock. "You are?! Well I don't know... you're awful little yet."

I scrambled out of his arms and to the ground, put my small hands on my hips and looked at him over my glasses, making my best attempt at looking defiant. "Nuh-uh. I'm almost eight. James was eight when he got to go," referring to my older brother, who looked on with disdain from the his seat on the tailgate of Dave's truck.

"Is that so? Well, I guess you're big enough then. You want to hang with me?"

I thought it over for a moment. "Okay. What are we doing?"

Dave smiled. "Watch and learn, kiddo."

So, I did. My father drove the old Oliver tractor, with the new John Deere bailer behind it. I watched as he spit out a bale, then stopped, checked the weight of the bale and the tension of the strings, then got back on and spit out another, repeating the process several times. I asked Dave what he was doing. "He's making sure that everything works like it should, and that they're the size he wants. Each crop's different, kid, depending on the rain, and the weather. Have to adjust everytime." What Dave didn't say, and I didn't realize until years later when I learned how to do the adjustments myself, was that Dad was also making sure the bales were light enough that I could move them around a little. These bales were for feed for our own cattle, so we could get away with making them smaller and lighter than those that we would sell to other farms.

"Alright, kid. You ready?" I just grinned. "Okay, now we go, pile 'em up into stacks. Six or eight to a stack."

I took off at a run. I watched Dave grab a bale by the strings, walk up to another and set it next to it. I put my little hands around the twine of the nearest bale to me, and lifted. The bale came up off the ground, but due to my height, still bounced off my shins. I took little steps, and got the bale to the stack Dave had started and put mine next to it. I looked up in triumph, as Dave messed my hair with his bear paw of a hand. "Nicely done, kiddo. Off we go to the next."

And so the day went. Dave and the other guys were moving four or more bales to my one, but I didn't care. And neither did they. Eventually, the field was baled, and everything was stacked. We sat in the shade at the fenceline, and guzzled water from plastic jugs. The sweat had hay chaffe and dust clinging to our clothes and our skin. I loved it.

My father came over and settled himself in the grass beside me. "Well, what'dya think?"

"When can I drive the tractor?" My father laughed, his big voice booming across the field.

We collected the stacks next. My father stood on the flat bed of the GMC, and Dave handed me up to him. "Now, Jo, you wanted to come, and this part is very important, so you have to pay attention. We're gonna stack the hay up here, and you're gonna help, but you have to be careful. Watch the edge of the bed, and don't slip on the chaffe." He set me down, and my brother climbed in the driver's seat of the truck. "James!" Dad hollered as the engine roared to life. He stuck his head out the driver's side window. "You take it easy now, you hear? You dump the load, you're picking it up yourself." James grinned and ducked back in the truck.

James let the clutch out, and the truck moved forward, suprisingly smooth for an 11-year-old's skill. Dad showed me how to plant my feet to stay stable on the moving truck, and Dave and the guys started throwing bales up onto the bed. I watched as Dad started the first row, and then cross-stacked the second. It was like Jenga, to my child's mind, and I caught on quickly. Soon, Dad had me on the stack, and he was tossing bales up to me to put into place. It was a sight, as occassionally I had to bear hug and wrestle a bale to get it in place, and jump up and down on it to give it enough force to fit into the stack.

Before long, the truck was full -- stacked 10-bales high, with me perched triumphantly on the top, grinning from ear-to-ear. Dad climbed up the stack to help me down, and we sat on the back of the truck as James maneuvered his way across the field toward the barn. As we cut through a patch of wildflowers near the edge of the field, Dad reach down and plucked one perfect purple-blue blossom from the rest. He tucked the stem of the blossom behind my ear and chucked me playfully on the chin. "Ya did good, Hay Princess," he said. I smiled and took the flower from my ear, and stared at it as a tangle of emotions I didn't understand filled my little heart. It was the first time anyone had given me flowers -- Is it any wonder that no time since even compares?

Progressing

It’s my Wednesday… and I’m exhausted. And being that it’s only a 5-day week for me instead of a 6-day week, you would think that I would be a little less tired, but I’m not.

But it’s been a good week so far, and I’ve gotten a lot accomplished. Including getting a lot of Army/Navy stuff sorted out – which reminds me that I still haven’t updated all of you on that. So, here we go.

As most of you know, back in March I enlisted in the US Navy. Since then, the Navy had changed my contract six times, and I ended up getting NOTHING that I was promised by my recruiting office. I couldn’t have any of the jobs I was interested in. I couldn’t get my student loans repaid. I couldn’t get a ship-out date that made sense. NOTHING. So, at the beginning of July, I asked to be discharged. My recruiter was disappointed, and his Chief was downright pissed, but, I asked anyway, because my career isn’t about them. It’s about me, and what’s best for my future. Taking a job that would make me miserable because that was the best the Needs of the Navy could offer just wasn’t cutting it.

The very same day I asked for my Navy discharge, I was on the phone with an Army recruiter. SFC Conway was awesome with me. And the guys that work out of his office have treated me like a goddess since the day I walked in.

Almost three weeks ago, I had my first meeting in the Army office. Sergeant Ouellette talked to me about both Active Duty and Reserves, and the pros and cons of each. Being an Active Duty guy himself, he was more enthusiastic about that side, but he was thorough on each. He showed me what was available to me with the Army as far as jobs were concerned – and with them, it was literally EVERY SINGLE JOB, sans one. My vision, which medically disqualified me from all but a handful of clerical jobs in the Navy, wasn’t at all an issue with the Army. I could do something other than push paper behind a desk. I could do tactical ops. I could use my training. After that first meeting, I had a lot to think about.

A couple days later, SFC Conway called me at home to see where my head was at regarding all the things I had discussed with Sgt Ouellette. SFC Conway was receptive to my opinions, and what I thought would suit me best. He then referred me to Sergeant Pamphile, the Reserve Recruiter, and I had a meeting the following Monday.

At that meeting, Sgt. Pamphile blew me away. I could have the job I wanted, get my loans repaid, AND qualify for a cash sign-on bonus. And I could leave THIS FALL. I couldn’t have been more pleased.

And the guys…. SCF Conway, Sgt. Ouellette, Sgt. Pamphile… all of them were great. I walked in there and felt like I fit right away. We were laughing and joking within a few minutes of my being there – it was an atmosphere I never really felt in the Navy office.

I could have been signed and had all my paperwork completed at that meeting – but, the Navy still hadn’t discharged me. They were dragging their feet, and giving me the song and dance of the having to play the numbers game to meet quota to please the chain of command.

So, I tried to be patient. I gave it another week. When I heard nothing from my Navy recruiter in that time, I drove into State College, and cornered him in his office. The meeting was… tense. But I made it perfectly clear that my patience with the United States Navy was long passed spent. I pointed out that the Navy couldn’t legally hold me, because I hadn’t left for basic training. I also pointed out that I’m better connected politically speaking than I’ve ever let on, and if I had to go down those avenues for my discharge (which I would do if I had to) it would not work out well for my recruiter or his office.

Today, my Navy recruiter called me. My discharge papers have been filed, and are moving up the chain of command. I should be officially out of the Navy in about 2 days.

Coincidentally, Sgt. Pamphile also called me today. The job I wanted (Military Police -- big surprise, I know) opened up in Chambersburg, which is the closest Military Police Reserve Station to where I live, which will be saving me quite a drive on drill weekends. Also, I’ll be eligible for $20-$30K in Student Loan Repayment, as well as an $8-$14K cash sign-on bonus, depending on when and where I decide to go for basic training. I was all but dancing in my house.

So, things seem to be falling into place. As soon as my discharge is inked, I’ll be drawing up Army Reserve Enlistment papers. Looks like I’ll finally actually get my career off on the right foot.

In other news, there has been lots of adventuring recently. Went on a little historic photo-taking expedition with Suzanne and Melanie over the weekend, which was a good time. We went down to Curtin Village, a furnace village that made iron products in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. Got some decent photos, I think, but I haven’t had the time to take them off the camera and really look at them. Sunday I went down to the Juniata River with a friend, and spent the day swimming, fishing, and catching crawfish. It was a good time. No pictures of that excursion, however. Then today, there was boating at Sayers Dam… Amy got a new 2-person tube to pull behind the boat. It’s a blast! Suzanne and I paired up and took it for a spin today… and we laughed so hard I thought we were gonna pee our pants. It was great.

So, life is moving along like it should. Summer is progressing, and my career seems to be progressing with it. I very much approve.

Jam-Packed with Adventuring

::Phew::

This summer is flying by at breakneck speed. Seems that lately, I can’t even catch my breath.

It’s already mid-July. The weather has been scorching – a testament to the season. But time hasn’t had that sun-wilted, lazy pace I remember from my youth. There haven’t been quiet afternoon naps in the sunshine, or lazy days lounging on the beach. There have been no carefree days to do as I pleased – to wander with my camera, and get lost in the images I captured in the lens, or sleep until I finally felt rested.

It seems that summer is no longer the season-long vacation I lived for every year. Summer is work. And a lot of it.

Now, that’s not to say there haven’t been adventures. There are always adventures. Last week there were bar outings, a day on the boat in the sunshine, a road trip/rescue mission to New York City, and a lawn chair movie night -- all while enjoying the company of my awesome roommate, Suzanne :) This week there has been Army meetings (which needs its own post, as it's complicated as hell, so I'll get to that soon), and fishing, and shopping excursions, and there will be more bar outings. And mixed in to it all has been work, and when I can, the gym. But admittedly I've been slacking on that front. With a schedule as jam-packed as mine has been, something had to give.

I love summer -- I love everything about it. The smell, the feel, the pace -- even the hurried one that it's become as I've gotten older. Perhaps that's why I find it so necessary to cram as much as humanly possible into every single minute. Or, perhaps I just don't want to miss anything :)

Life is crazy -- and I love it.

But that's not to say I'm not looking forward to my long weekend coming up that has shockingly little planned for it...

Running Conclusions

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka... My sneakered feet hit the pavement in steady rhythm as I ran across campus in the cool night air -- well, cool in comparison to the 95 degree weather the sunshine had brought that day. I didn't have a route in mind. I just ran.

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… My thoughts wandered a bit as I cut down through South Halls. I had some good memories down there my sophomore year in college, and in the years that followed working move-in/move-out with PSUPD. I smiled. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Thwacka, thwacka, tap, tap, tap, tap… I took the steps behind Redifer Commons at a jog – those steps there were designed for child-size feet, not adult ones. I hung a right at the bottom of the steps, and cut down into the parking lot, and out to the sidewalk that runs along College Avenue. I lengthened my stride, as the sidewalk stretched out ahead of me, the flat surface a perfect spot to make up some time.

Thwackity, thwackity, thwackity, thwackity… Seems all I’ve been doing lately is making up for lost time. Where was I going? The thought was a philosophical one, rather than navigational. As I approached Shortlidge Road, my thoughts were not about the traffic beside me, or the people I passed. I paid no attention to the storefronts to my left, or the picturesque campus to my right where I’d spent so many years. No, as I ran, I thought of what was behind me.

Thwackity, thwackity, thwackity, thwackity… I left my hometown at 18, and never really looked back. I spent four and a half years in college, and three and a half of those years working two jobs to pay for it. I’d moved around some within the area, but never felt transient. I’d made a life for myself here – great friends, a job I don’t completely hate, an area that I’ve come to have a rather strong fondness for – at some point, when I was busy running, I’d made it home.

The thought struck me so solidly that I stopped. I looked up the hill to my right, and saw Old Main standing proud, with its stoic columns, and weathered clock tower, the gray stone washed white in the lamp light. I shook my head and laughed at myself. Who’da thought? I headed back down College Avenue.

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… I fell back into my rhythm as I passed the gates at Allen Street. Sweat ran between my shoulder blades and slicked my skin. I barely noticed. My mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of home and future and life to be concerned with my physical discomfort. Did I want to settle down? What about all the places I wanted to see, and the things I wanted to do?

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… I passed a group of young women, dressed to the hilt. They gave me snide glances as I passed them – my sweating self apparently offended their delicate sorority sensibilities. I laughed again – out loud this time. How am I at home around a bunch of bitchy sorostitutes??

Thwacka, thwacka, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack… I rounded the corner at Burrowes Street, and started up the hill, changing my pace to accommodate the change in grade. The climb had my muscles singing before I’d made it twenty-five yards. But I pushed, because life was what you made it. If you wanted something, you worked, and pushed, and sweat until you had it. You didn’t give up, or stop pushing just because it got too hard, and the before was more comfortable.

Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack… Despite the aching in my legs, and the burning that was starting in my lungs, I smiled. I didn’t have to become complacent, but I didn’t have to reinvent myself every time I got comfortable, either. I could settle in, and still push for more, couldn’t I?

Thwack, thwack, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… As I crested the hill, and crossed Curtin Road, my stride naturally lengthening again, I knew what I wanted. I cut behind Kern Building, the trees casting long shadows on the sidewalk. I could have both – be both.

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… I hung a right and ducked behind the parking garage and through north campus, past the fountain at Chambers Building – they’d fixed it since I’d graduated, and the trickling water was a pleasant sound in the night. I turned left onto Allen Road, my muscles beginning to tighten with fatigue. Only had another three-quarters of a mile to go – I could make it.

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… Park Avenue stretched ahead of me, as I followed the sidewalk to the right. My mind flashed back to a time when I’d stood in the middle of that road, in full traffic gear, responsible for dozens of college kids working under me, and the safe exodus of thousands of football fans. I’d wanted to conquer the world in those days – and in some ways thought I had. But with graduation came reality – and with reality came a personal rock-bottom that I didn’t think someone like me could experience.

Thwackadum, thwackadum, thwackadum, thwackadum…My pace slowed as a concession to the fatigue becoming more palpable with every stride. I crossed Shortlidge Road, and looked to my left over what had once been open field, and was now Penn State’s Arboretum, and next to that it’s Law School. Those building projects caused such headaches for the campus. Especially during football season, as we lost thousands of parking spaces, and had to worry about drunk fans stumbling onto the job sites and hurting themselves. But they were built. Progress was made. The aches and pains were overcome.

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… I picked my pace back up, determined to finish my run strong. I hung a right onto Bigler Road. It was mostly down hill now, on the final leg. I pulled myself out of my rock-bottom back then, and overcame my pains. Made myself into a person that I liked and respected – and a person that has turned out to be liked and respected by others, too. And what I wanted? Yeah… I can make myself into that too, without giving up what I’ve become.

Thwackity, thwackity, thwackity, thwackity… That realization brought new energy, and I took the pace up another notch as I passed the East Deck. I could do this. More importantly, I wanted to – and in my life, one has most usually led to the other.

Thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackity… By the time I crossed Curtin Road, I was nearly sprinting. I flew by the Computer Building, and rounded the corner at Eisenhower Road at near breakneck speed, taking the corner wide enough to keep my footing.

Thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackity… The last 75 yards were mine, and I took them at a full sprint. My mind, for the first time since I laced up my running shoes, completely blanked. All I could hear were my feet on the pavement, and the music in my earphones – Papa Roach at that particular point. My muscles were singing, and my heart was pounding, but still I pushed.

Thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackiy – whoosh… I was done. My lungs were heaving as I bent at the waist and put my hands on my knees. My gray tank top was completely soaked through with sweat, and it dripped down my face, splattering on the pavement between my feet. I smiled. It was a good run…

Personalities Abound

While today is a rest day from working out, the last two days were not. I pushed hard at the gym... trying to get as much quality out of the lesser quantity of my training these days. It was nice to see familiar faces, and continue my humorous commentary on the regulars. So, here we go...

Shoulders was back... though the last two days he'd toned down the bright-colored T-shirt. Perhaps that was in direct result of the fact that his shoulders have emassed themselves to a whole new level of ginormous, and probably ate the other T-shirts whole. Gnat was not present either of the last two days, and I found I missed his cheery flitting about -- he amuses me, and as such makes the time pass quicker. Perhaps he's on vacation.

Now, there are two new gym personalities I want to introduce you to:
Xena Warrior Princess -- She's around 5'8" tall, with long black hair that she keeps tied up in a knot on the top of her head. Her face is exotically pretty, and her body... well, she is the sexiest, most cut woman I have ever seen. She's not cut in that weird, scary, female body-builder way, but instead in the lean, sexy style of a woman that takes pride in her body, and actually uses the muscles for something other than pumping iron in the gym. The woman has essentially no body fat, and manages to keep herself looking cool and composed as she benches 160lbs through three sets. In contrast, I'm dripping with sweat, my hair's a wild mass of medusa-like disarray and stuffed under a battered Red Sox cap. Cool and composed? Not so much. I want to be Xena when I grow up.
Eye Candy -- Ok ladies, this one, you want to pay attention to. He's 6'0" and probably 225lbs of cut, Greek God perfection. Blonde hair, green eyes, and a ridiculously defined abdominal section that makes a 6-pack look like child's play. I've been around my share of men, and as such can usually control my reactions to them without a lot of effort. But Eye Candy distracts me to the point that I all but drool -- and because of that I push myself harder through my circuit, so if I ever get the opportunity to have a conversation with him, I'll have to thank him. And ask him to help me with pull-ups, seeing as they're my enemy, and he has them mastered, as he was doing dozens of wide-grip pull-ups, while holding what looked like a 40lb dumbbell between his feet. Show-off. Not that I minded, of course :)

Well, off to work for me... it's my Tuesday...

Short Skirt/High Heels Night -- My, Oh My...

Last night was the first major bar outing since Suzanne arrived here for the summer... and what a way to debut the State College night scene!



As the title indicates, it was Short Skirt/High Heels Night -- well, it was in our group anyway. All the girls participated, and the boys were properly appreciative of the efforts. The night started with Jenn, Suzanne and I prepping ourselves for the big night out -- Jenn in her very feminine, though adorable while mini-skirt, with dead-sexy cobalt blue top; Suzie in her new "rocker" mini-skirt, my pink silk cami, and her new amazingful stripper heels; and me, in my new denim mini-skirt, red "wife-beater" style tank, blue and red plaid heels and matching fedora. We picked up Melanie on the way to the bar to round out our Foxy Foursome, and all I can say is: Yeah... we were a sight!



After the much required female ritual of lengthy prepping and debate over clothing options, it was off to the Gingerbread Man for beverages, and a much needed visit with an old friend, Bean, the best bartender in State College. There was drinking, and the usual ruckus-causing. Bean, as always, took really great care of us with free shots -- his "Statutory Grape" shot that he coined, and found much humor in serving to off-duty law enforcement. But, as the night progressed, due to lack of live entertainment, and a strong desire by all the females in the party to dance, it was decided to change venues. So, we said our goodbyes to Bean, and headed out the door and down the street to The Saloon, where a fun band, My Hero Zero, was playing. So the dancing began, and boys flocked (strangers included) and turns out I didn't have to buy a single drink for the rest of the night... seems short skirts, and plaid heels makes men want to spoil you. Who'da thunk?



The night, while thoroughly entertaining in a number of ways, did have to end rather abruptly when my friend, Jordan made a drunk ass out of himself. But, after a crafty cajoling, a little strong-arming, and a lot of patience, Melanie and I got him safely back to my apartment where he slept off his stupor on my couch. And, for the trouble and grief he caused us, he had to spend $36.00 to get his car out of the municipal parking lot in State College this morning. I think it serves him right :)



But, the end of the night wasn't all bad, as the rest of the crew ended up back at my house -- it wasn't the usual after-party, for fear of waking up the very drunk and belligerent Jordan, but it ended with four women in my bed... what could possibly be wrong with that?



So... that was the excitement... and for your viewing pleasure, here are the women, all sexed up and dressed to kill:

Yup... it was definitely a night to remember...

Not So Lazy Summer Days

Wow... this week has been a total whirlwind.

Suzie and I seem to be finding our rhythym as roommates. We seem to be falling into a routine that works for us, and so far, we aren't driving one another crazy. Go us!

We're also keeping busy... lots of erranding, and getting settled in, and shopping. There have been a couple of very entertaining nights out, and a few quiet afternoons in. We're still able to find time to ourselves too, which is probably key to this whole roommate thing working out. I get my gym time, which keeps me sane, and she gets her time to herself to really see if this whole living away from home thing is going to work for her. So far, rave reviews seem to be pouring in from both sides.

So, we're busy, busy, busy... standby for some incident-specific posts...