"The Victorians were right about the allure of the coast..."

Today I danced with dawn,
shook the shadows, bucked the rain,
hitched a lift into the town,
with an Irish lad and dame.

Changed my money at the bank,
John Dunlop is on the five,
He reinvented rubber tires,
emancipated how we drive.

And then I spoke with China,
learned a little Cantonese,
We shared fruit and plans for this world,
'til I ventured to the breeze.

A pint with French companions,
and another with Americans,
sparked a lively chat on techno,
(nothing rhymes but Spamericans)

I saw just two stars tonight,
lonesome in the clouds,
Perhaps you see them too?
like two lovers in a crowd.

banana slugs

Yes, there are banana slugs in the grass. In fact, there are beaucoup. The slugs are large and plentiful. They seem happy in this wetland. This was a possibly the longest day I have ever experienced. Our plane was delayed, our bus was delayed, but our spirits could not be tampered with. We enjoyed a meet and greet of international students. The conclusion: the French are the best dancers!

Hunting and Gathering

I leave for Coleraine, Northern Ireland in five days. Until then, I am picking up bits and pieces from the floor -- scraps of paper, photographs, trinkets and treasures I cannot live without -- to pack away into my suitcase. I haven't done official Momma-approved packing yet, but here is what I will not leave without (for now):
-moleskine notebook and sketchbook complete with all my jumbled thoughts and doodlings from 2008
-new green journal (thanks, Kat/Cha-Cha/Aunt Tere/Uncle Matt/Andrew)
-"peace, love, and happiness" bracelet from the Momma person
-polaroid camera
-pens, oil pastels, arty stuff, blah blah
-mood ring

Okay, so I haven't got much yet.

I am also searching out old and new friends to say goodbyes. It will only be three months. Three months is a trimester. It's the estimated recovery time for ankle surgery. It's a quarter year. Really, three months is nothing at all, but considering that I've never spent more than six weeks away from home, three months is a mountain.

I welcome the climb. After a summer in Chapel Hill peppered with adventures, and a brief fall sprinkled with confusion (but mostly peppered with spilled table salt from Spanky's), I could use a change. Actually, now I could use a total transplant, and here it comes.