Sunday, December 28, 2014

Contacts: The Devil Himself

I. Hate. Contacts. 

For years I've been debating on getting 1-day disposable contacts for swimming/hiking/whatever, but I always put it off because I really hate putting things in my eyes. Hate it. I've worn glasses since I was 6 years old and I'm perfectly content with it... mostly. 

In the summer, hiking with glasses can get kind of annoying because they move around your sweaty face, but I used Croakie's to keep them in place and it worked out fine. Winter is the bigger problem: they often fog up quickly and no anti-fog product I have used yet has worked well (thought I just bought Cat Crap, we'll see how that goes). So, finally I said screw it and made an appointment.

Everything went smoothly, my prescription had barely changed and they had trial ones that they could put my prescription on. A nice man gave me a quick demo with contacts he was wearing. "Okay, we hold the eyelashes to they're out of the way, we open the eye very wide, once the contact is placed on the eye we pull our finger away slowly, close the eye, rub the eye gently, then the contact slips into place" (he said 'we' a lot). Seemed easy enough. He did it in about four seconds. 

It took me an hour and a half to get one in and out.

It started off poorly and continued to digress from there. Thankfully he left me to do it alone after a few minutes. I cannot control the involuntary blink when the thing gets close to my eye. After like AN HOUR I got ONE in, and I am convinced it was a fluke. Total fluke. I asked him if it was the longest it ever took someone, he said, "no, once a woman started crying and hitting the table. It made me really uncomfortable." I promised him I wouldn't cry and started on my left eye. After about 15 minutes I decided it probably wasn't going to work. I didn't want to be there for hours, it wasn't worth it. He showed me how to take it out, again doing it in about 2 seconds, and promised me that taking them out is easier. It did take much less time, but it didn't just "pop" out like his did. After about 10 minutes I started to panic that I wouldn't be able to get it out and the doctor would have to do it. If there's anything I hate more than putting things in/taking things out of my eyes, it's someone else doing it to me. I could feel the frustration and panic building into tears but held back for fear of embarassement and to fulfill my promise to the nice man helping me. I would NOT cry. I finally got the damn thing out. 

I will not be able to wear them on our 2.5 day winter hiking & camping / ski trip over New Years, which is basically the prime example of when I need them. Sigh. I just spent 30 minutes trying again, and while I made some progress it still wasn't graceful and I type this wearing my glasses. I think that in a past life someone tortured me via my eyes, it is the only way to explain my uncontrollable aversion to getting something into my eye. I am scarred for life.

I found some decent advice online that has helped me this time around, but I've found equally as many things like this:

OH IT'S JUST THAT EASY, IS IT?!

Deep breath. PLEASE GIVE ME ADVICE!

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

A Mini-Vacation

I've heard rumors that real adults get to take real vacations and still get paid. I guess I'm not a real adult, but I can still take a mini-vacation, damnit! That's exactly what Adam and I decided to do. Originally we had planned a Friday night - Monday morning trip to Michigan to visit for his niece's 1st birthday party, but the opportunity to extend this mini-vacation another two days presented itself and we TOOK IT... because we are KIND-OF-ADULTS!

Presented without comment
As with any normal mini-vacation that involves airplanes, I spent Friday meticulously detailing and mulling over various routes to the airport from work. Let me say that I have never once missed a flight or even been remotely close to being late, but I get worked up about it nonetheless. I had a holiday party to attend that afternoon, so I stressed over how late I could stay in order to still make it to the airport in time. I ended up leaving two rounds short of the end of the yankee swap, and I never did find out who got the gift I brought. It was worth it to get to the airport two hours before my flight, mostly just for my mental state, though. 



The trip to Michigan was great, not only to get away from Boston and work but for spending time with family, too. Last time we saw Riley she was still practicing "tummy time", this time she was able to walk, communicate much better, and scream at the top of her lungs for fun. Her birthday party was adorable and mostly for the adults (as any 1st birthday is). I think that kid has seen enough flashing cameras to last a lifetime.

Reporters at Press Conference: "So, how does it feel to be 1 year old?"

Our quick trip came to and end early Monday morning with a drive back to Detroit's airport. A fire alarm started blaring as we stood in line for security, and I was sure this would be the time I would miss a flight. In typical human fashion, no one did anything in response to the alarm. We all just stood around and assumed the building wasn't burning down. A woman got in line behind us and said, "um, excuse me? What is going on? What is that thing flashing?" Lady, have you never heard a fire alarm in your whole life? Do you not hear the recorded message telling you "this is a fire alarm"? I almost told her that the strobe light was an indication to rave. Just open your ears for two seconds, goodness gracious.

We did not miss our flight, and one plane, four trains, and one automobile later we landed in Killington, VT, for two days of skiing. As REI employees we got free access to Killington's Demo Day, where vendors come and lets people try out their skis for free. I was mostly just excited for my first day skiing since last season.

Me last season
I'm sorry, I just lied to you. That above photo is about as far from me skiing as you can get. Last season was my first time ever skiing, and we only got in a handful of days. Still, by the end of last season I was feeling confident on the greens. Turns out skiing was only slightly like "riding a bike". It came back to me, but slowly. Last season we always made the joke that I never fell (which is not true, I had one decent fall) because of my new waterproof pants, which I called my "anti-gravity" pants. I wore the same pants in hopes of conjuring their magical powers, but they kind of failed me. A lot. 


Thankfully I didn't have too many big wrecks, unlike Adam who literally bounced down the mountain on his first alpine run (he's been telemark skiing for a bit). I did fall, though, much more than last season. It's fine, I'm still new and my falls were more like intentional sit-downs, but it can be disheartening. I know what skiing should look like and I know what I want to do, but I don't have the skill to do it yet. I'm still working on those french fry turns. Also, if I have one second of distraction I basically go out of control and fall. It's a great method for success.

Adam on his tele skis 
The first day was foggy, but the second day was much worse. It got to the point where we couldn't see the signs at the intersections until we got within 10 feet of them. This did not bode well for my anxiety over sharing the trail. I start to get nervous if I sense another skier or snowboarder coming, so the very limited visibility just added to my anxieties. 

Non-view from the lift
We only got a half-day in on our second day because our friend Neil's binding snapped mid-run. Honestly, I was happy to only stay half the day. I was tired from the day before and fell much more than I would have liked. Despite a start to the season that involved me on my ass so much, I'm ready to get back out there again. I can't get better if I don't keep going, right? Right.

Monday, December 8, 2014

At Least It Had A Happy Ending

Warning: I'm about to say bad things about hiking.
But they will be followed by good things, I promise.


Adam and I had a Saturday off together, which hasn't happened without us requesting it in... forever, probably. We hastily started planning our first winter hike of the season. Last year was the first year we really got into winter camping and hiking together, and we were itching to get out again. We finally settled on the Hancocks, two peaks off the hairpin turn on the Kancamagus. Our plan was to hike in at least 1.8 miles to the first major intersection, maybe further if we felt up to it, set up the hammock, and finish the remainder in the morning. Alright! Great plan!

Like clockwork, the day before our trip I started suffering from menstrual woes. I say "like clockwork" because somehow before every major winter hike (which is a big physical undertaking, mind you) I have been stricken with the same affliction. It's Satan's way of reminding me that he is real. Not only does it present some -ahem- unique challenges in nature's non-bathroom (especially when it's below freezing), but it makes one feel generally shitty. It's not good to feel generally shitty when you're hauling 30-40lbs of gear on your back, hiking multiple miles, layered in heavy gear... well, you get this gist. 

"Do I HAVE to get out?"
The night went really well. We got up north at a reasonable hour and even had enough time to enjoy a leisurely dinner at Subway. The hike in by headlamp was a pleasant 1.8 miles, so pleasant that we continued on 1/4 mile before setting up camp. Anxiety started to creep up on me while we settled into the hammock. It was dark, very dark. We were in a place that is notorious for not having cell service. We were the only car in the parking lot, no one else was on this mountain. I didn't feel great, what if I was getting sick? And that noise... was that the hammock? Was that snow falling off of the tarp? Or was it a bear coming to maul us? Oh, how the mind wanders. 

My anxieties didn't last long. Eventually they were overtaken by the childlike giddiness that comes with camping out, and by the peaceful quiet of a snow-covered forest. We slept for a comfortable 7ish hours and got a later start than planned. We had 7.75 miles to hike, for which we budgeted 4 hours (3.5 if we were booking it). All told, it would take us 6.5 hours. 

The first chunk was relatively easy except that we were breaking trail. It has snowed ~3 inches overnight, so Adam and I took turns making steps through the fresh powder. It doesn't sound hard (3 inches of snow, so what?) but it feels like walking in sand. A few river crossings shook things up a bit, but all was quiet until we got the junction for the loop. 

And then it all fell apart. 


The first 3.6 miles to the junction are, like I said, easy-peasy. We studied our topo map and saw that the ascent up North Hancock and descent of South Hancock would be very steep, but it didn't seem so bad since the rest of the trail was almost flat. Oh, how wrong I was. First, a group of six hikers caught up to us not 2 minutes past the junction. It's always a weird sensation to feel very alone on a mountain and then suddenly - HELLO! - there's a big group of people. And they were a ... how do I say this... boisterous group that had an affinity to blasting dubstep from speakers in their pack. 

Almost immediately we were on the steep slope, which happened to last the entire .7 miles. It was probably one of the hardest .7 miles I've ever hiked, at least mentally. The first winter hike of the season is always a kick in the ass, but this felt different. A bout of rain had turned to heavy, wet snow. There's something soul-sucking about hiking in cold slush, even when the proper gear prevents it from getting to your skin. It is also energy-sucking; we were burning around 500 calories per hour, and at that rate it's nearly impossible to refuel as quickly as you lose it. I would equate it to trying to eat a Big Mac while running on a treadmill. 

Looking back on our tracks
Climbing on unbroken trail through several inches of snow is hard enough, add an unreasonably steep slope and it's that much harder. I felt myself slowing down. I tried to will myself to not stop, but my legs had other ideas and would simply stop moving every hundred feet or so. I grew more and more frustrated that I was slowing us down so much (to which Adam will never agree), and it was worsened by the fact that I couldn't seem to push myself to just go. When I'm having a hard time on trail I set small goals, just keep going until the next intersection, but that method only disheartened me. I read a story many years ago that hell was eternally carrying rocks up a hill to stack into a pyramid (or something like that), only to come back down and realize the number of rocks to carry up never decreased. Sometimes that's what hiking in the White Mountains feels like. It is relentless. Every time we rounded a corner it was more of the same. I wanted so desperately for there to be a change, for that turn to be the one that landed us at the top, and it wasn't. So, I would mentally reset and take another step, only for that step to slide backwards down the slope in the deep powdered snow. I didn't want to continue, I didn't want to turn around, I simply wanted to stop doing it.

Then my uterus turned on me and I really fell apart. Adam tried to motivate me by saying the trees were getting thinner, we must be near the top, and I didn't even care. I wasn't excited. I was frustrated and defeated, especially knowing that this was summit # 1 out of 2 with a fairly decent stretch back to the car. I had to remember that I CHOSE to do this, that this was my own fault and I should stop whining, and then I finally lost it. Only about 1/10 of a mile from the wooded, viewless summit, I stopped and let Adam get out of sight, heaved forward onto my trekking poles, and let out a single tear of frustration and pain.

North Hancock Summit
You would probably never know by looking at that photo that I was bent at the waist fighting back tears not three minutes before (though the convenient smudge of snow over my face probably helps). I was upset and embarrassed, and I desperately wanted to get away from the group that was still blasting electronic music from their backpack and yelling obscenities at each other. I wanted to flash my Leave No Trace Trainer badge (that doesn't exist, but it would be cool) and be like PRINCIPLE 7: BE CONSIDERATE TO OTHER VISITORS; "LET NATURE'S SOUNDS PREVAIL". I do not haul my ass up mountains in those conditions to listen to music I hate, or any music at all, really.

The 1.4 mile link to the south summit was considerably easier, and I felt a weight lift knowing that the most physically challenging part was over. Even still, every small rise in elevation felt like a battle, especially since we were trudging through even deeper snow. We were breaking trail again, and even with a full, normal step my foot didn't come out from under the snow. That 1.4 miles was the only time I wish we had snowshoes on, but overall I was thankful to not have brought the extra weight. 

South Summit
We had a pretty quiet hike after getting off the steep slope (except when we were leapfrogging the loud group), and it wasn't a peaceful quiet, it was the "Molly is upset" quiet. You see, this isn't the first time I've gotten upset during one of our outings, and Adam knows me well enough to know when those times are. It's usually a much shorter amount of time than was on this hike, and I'm usually a chatty-Cathy on the way up and down. I was not a chatty-Catchy. I was a silent-Sally. I desperately wanted the day to end. I knew that we were going to be long past our planned 3.5-4 hours, and I couldn't help feeling responsible. The going was easier, but I was still feeling like a sack of crap. I tried my hardest to set small goals and feel accomplished, like "only .5 miles to the next intersection", but I couldn't help but feel discouraged by how long we still had to go. 

And then Adam fell in a river, and I stopped complaining. 



Did I get your attention again? Oh, good. Yeah, so Adam fell in a river. There are three big river crossing and two minor ones. In the morning the three perilous ones weren't so bad. The ice was thin in some spots, but a few thwacks with a trekking pole would tell if you the ice would hold. In the afternoon, however, the temps had risen a little and the group of 6 had hit the crossings just before us. Some of the water was low enough to not go over your boot if you went in, but this one was pretty deep. It was obvious that several members of the group ahead of us had definitely gone in (not waist deep or anything, but enough to get a wet foot). I investigated to the right of their path but it didn't seem promising. I told Adam to check out a spot to the left that looked entirely frozen over. It required a minor bushwhack over a burm and through some undergrowth, nothing too dicey. He went over the burm and stepped down onto flatter ground, which was not flat ground but a thin layer of ice over some swampy inlet to the river. His lower half disappeared and then reappeared as a he dispersed his weight with his trekking poles. I heard another crack and saw him scramble to actual flat ground. It was a tense moment of silence before I said, "...Soooooo.. guess you're going to try from over there then?" It was the first time I laughed in several hours. Luckily I made it across without any mishaps.

It wasn't until the last stretch, 1.8 miles from the final junction to the car, that I finally settled into the day. The constant aches and pains were just normal, not something to pay attention to. I let my mind float and my body took over. Of course, I finally found my mental balance at the very end. I came to terms with the fact that not every trip will be good, and that's fine. I've had shitty days on trail, but this one felt compounded by feeling crappy, being weighed down by heavy wet snow, and by being mentally exhausted. I felt proud of myself for not turning around, for struggling through it. I was happy to make peace with the day, but I was even happier to see the little piece of civilization.

Can you spot the sign?



So life giving.
The car was a welcome sight, especially since we had decided to stop at our usual place: The Common Man. It's the one great restaurant in the area that we know Adam can eat, and it's become sort of a tradition for us. We stripped off our wet outer layers and took refuge by the roaring fire in the lounge. Our muscles already ached, and we happily relaxed in a semi-disoriented state of tiredness after the long day. A family joined our little pod of couches and lounge chairs, we got to chatting with them for maybe fifteen minutes, tops, as they waited for their table to open. When we asked for our check the waiter informed us that those folks had paid for our meal because they enjoyed talking to us. I don't think that has ever happened to me, and it really took me by surprised. It was a simple, kind gesture that really resonated with us. 

So, I had a bad day hiking I guess, but in the end it was great. I walked (hobbled) out feeling beat but happy that we had done what we came to do. 


Friday, December 5, 2014

Gasoline Powered Turkey

I can't believe it's already December.

Thanksgiving promised to be a good introduction to winter, as we heard reports of almost a foot of snow coming to my parents house. On Wednesday we got a lot of rain in Boston, but the rain quickly changed to snow as we headed north. 

Unplowed roads
It was a long trip up to New Hampshire. We almost didn't make it up our hill, we got stuck behind a slow-moving car and almost couldn't get enough momentum to get to the top.  The house was dark upon our arrival... they lost power a few hours before we got there. 

Scenes from Thanksgiving
Our gas-powered generator powered just enough to keep my mom's big refrigerator's running, the heat on enough to keep the pipes from freezing, and the water on so we could flush the toilets. Living the lap of luxury, if I do say so myself! Unfortunately the power was still out in the morning, but we ventured out to get the Sunday paper for Black Friday flyers. The lack of electricity would not stop TRADITION! ...except we couldn't watch the Macy's Day Parade or National Dog Show. True bummer.

Instead of TV, Adam and I ventured out into the winter wonderland. It was the first time we got to play in the snow in a while. Meanwhile, a Thanksgiving chef-ery miracle was being pulled off at my house. We have one gas-powered oven that my mom uses for baking, so we were able to cook the bird in that. Everything else was cooked on a small one burner stove and the grill. It turned out to be a great meal. 







Thanksgiving doesn't need electricity!


Thursday, November 20, 2014

This One's For The Ladies

Have you ever said the phrase "... and then you poop in the hole" in front of a group of teenagers? You should try it some time.

Living in the woods does a lot of things to a person, but one of the most stark differences is the change in social norms. The topics of conversations are sometimes so vastly different from what you would disclose to any friend, family member, or significant otherthat it leaves you wondering what rabbit hole you jumped down that got you to that point. One specific instance comes to mind; my co-leader Lumberjack and I were lounging back at base camp after a long day's work when the conversation somehow drifted to poop schedules. We shared, in specific detail, when we normally had to answer nature's call and what gastrointestinal abnormalities we had that week. We could have just as easily been talking about how work was that day, what was for dinner, what new movie we wanted to see.

This left me with next to no filter when it came to talking about bodily functions, a graceful characteristic that I have carried over to my urban life. Had I dealt with bodily functions in the woods prior to this summer? Of course, but it was never something that I talked about almost on a daily basis for 12 weeks straight.

With that, I would like to share two of my favorite products for outdoor life when it comes to bodily functions. The inventors of these should be high-fived. Please note, this one's for the ladies.

The Rain-Maker

World-Renowned!
The Freshette (another popular brand is She-Wee) is potentially one of the best purchases I have ever made. In simple terms, it allows women to pee standing up. I bought one for winter hiking last year after one trip when I had to drop trow with a -20 degree wind chill. At that temperature any exposed skin just plain hurts, especially... ahem... sensitive areas. I was also always jealous of Adam's (and any guys) ability to go three feet of the trail and take a 30 second pee break. My "bio breaks" involved me tromping through thick vegetation to get off-trail enough to not be seen, all while trying to find good natural toilet paper.

My first use of what I dubbed "the rain maker" was last year in a parking lot at the base of the Cog Railroad at Mt. Washington. Adam and I drove up late and slept in the car for an extremely cold night, so cold that we woke up with our top blanket frozen solid. The air temp was well into the negatives when I hopped out of the car for the inaugural use of the rain-maker. Thankfully the wind was still, it was pitch black, and nobody was around. It was still very difficult to break down the mental barrier I had to peeing in the middle of a parking lot. It was even harder for my mind to convince my body it was okay to pee standing up with my pants on. Adam loves to retell the story of him peering out the window, watching me loll my head around, stargazing without a care in the world. What can I say, it was a nice night for peeing-while-stargazing.

I mostly use my rain-maker for winter hiking, but it would be great for travel as well. We all know what it's like to have to sit on or hover over a questionable toilet seat. As much as I love this product, it does take some getting used to. A lifetime of sitting while peeing makes it really hard to switch methods, but trust me, it's a life changer. No more panicking that your butt touched poison ivy.
 
 
Diva Cup
 
 
Let's be real, period's are the absolute worst. They're even MORE of a hassle when you are spending extended time outdoors. Prior to my summer in the woods I had always just hoped I timed my hiking trips well and dealt with period woes if I had to. Short-term solutions were fine for what I was doing ("oh bummer I'm at the trailhead and I got my period, good thing I remembered tampons"), mostly because I was doing day trips. When I was faced with 12 weeks of being in the woods almost every day without bathroom facilities I knew I needed a better solution. Anyone who has had to change a tampon while sitting on a log knows what I mean.

Enter: Diva Cup. I got the DivaCup after some research, it seemed like most women's solution. It traveled with me for a few weeks before I needed to use it, and of course in that time I read blogs/testimonials from many people sing the praises of DivaCup, and equally as many sharing their horror stories. Just as with the rain-maker, using a DivaCup took some getting used to. I learned that all the "horror stories" were probably the results of not using it correctly, and I also learned that it does take time to get it right.
 
You should know that you're going to have to get pretty comfortable with your lady parts in order to use the DivaCup, but if you can commit to it then you get some great benefits. The most up-front benefit is that it can be worn for 12 hours, meaning you only have to think about it twice a day. It is comfortable, invisible, and hassle-free when it is in it's proper place (key words). It's also WAY cheaper over time than buying tampons/pads, and it'll last a really long time if you take proper care.
 
Well, that was a fun post to write.
 



Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Farm School

My chipmunk cheek subsided just enough to attend my AmeriCorps training this past Saturday. Unfortunately I had to skip the service day on Friday, but I was happy to join up with the group on Friday night at The Farm School in Athol, MA. I got in around 9:30pm, blindly following a pitted dirt road to the only building I saw with lights on (I forgot my headlamp). It turned out to an unheated horse barn, and 15ish members of our team were gathered around a wood stove playing a game. They gave a whooping hello as I came in, it was hard to fight a smile... and by "smile" I mean painful half-smirk on only one side of my face.

Hi, Cow!
As I mentioned, our training was at The Farm School, a working farm and educational center in central MA. Sadly our training was not related to collecting eggs or feeding horses, but the Director introduced himself in the morning and told us about the various programs they run at Farm School. One of them is a year-long adult program, which he encouraged us to apply for if we were interested. Many sets of ears perked up, and I spent the rest of the day zoning out from a Powerpoint about volunteer recruitment and thinking about Farm School.

I was excited to spend time with my fellow Mass-LIFT AmeriCorps-ians, the last time we were all together was back in September for our orientation. It was also very comforting to know that other people are having the same struggles that I have experienced ("whaaaaaaat am I doing exactly?"), and to see what other folks are working on. As fun as it was, I was excited to get home and do more research about farm school.

I was about ready to fill out the application that night. Farm school teaches lessons on field crops, farm animals, forestry, practical farm skills, homesteading, marketing, and more. You learn how to organically manage pests, how to start seedlings for greenhouse growing. You get to care for farm animals and process manure, eggs, wool, and meat. You get to drive single and two-horse teams. You learn how to manage woodlots for production and get a chainsaw training. You cook and preserve the food that you harvest, and there's a class called "fiber arts" where you dye and spin the wool that you processed. You gain carpentry skills, work with hand tools, and do general maintenance on farm equipment. But the real sell for me is that you get your own cow. Okay, you don't really OWN it, but you select a cow and hand-milk it daily. So you basically get your own cow. I WANT MY OWN COW!

This has been a practice in controlling my impulsiveness and in living "in the here and now". I had my heart set on farm school the past few days without real regard to how much money it was going to cost. Going a year without income is pretty daunting. I can't even go a week without income without my life imploding (exaggeration). What I really mean is that I don't have enough savings to do that. Adam also very rationally said that it would be most effective when it was directly transferrable to an actual farm, not just the idea of owning a farm one day.

Ugh, I hate when people are rational and correct and kill my dreams of having a cow. ;)

I mean, COME ON! Look how adorable!
Anyway, it's a good reminder that I should try to focus on what's going on in my life right now and stop agonizing about what I'm going to be doing in a year, which has been something I've been doing a LOT of lately. Instead of drowning in the peril of figuring out a way to get enough money to get my head above water, I'm going to try to remain present and enjoy life... "try" being the key word.

The (Most of) MassLIFT-AmeriCorps 2014-15 "Let's Do A Pyramid For Our Group Photo" Photo

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Return of the Post Hole Demon

I didn't edit this, I promise. They really look like that.
The few people that actually read this blog (my guess between zero and two) may recall a post back in July called "Halfway", that should have more appropriately been named "I Hate Post Hole Diggers". This is because I got hit in the face with a post hole digger. My fun weekend flashed before my eyes after I came to, I thought I had broken my jaw. Seriously, my first thought was, "I better not have broken my jaw, damnit, I really want to go climbing". Priorities, people. Luckily I did not break my jaw, but I did have a bloodied and bruised mouth and a generally poor attitude for the rest of the day.

Those 0-2 blog readers I mentioned may also remember my string of bad dental luck that included a major tooth extraction and subsequent dry socket just before I left for my summer season. I had an infected tooth that I chose to pull instead of getting a root canal on, mostly because I was still trying to pay off my previous root canal on another tooth.

So where does this all lead me to? Why is this post called Return of the Post Hole Demon? Well, here's a math equation:

Post Hole Digger To The Face + Tooth with Root Canal + Time = No More Tooth
 
That's right, ladies and gentlemen, my goddamn tooth FELL OUT OF MY HEAD. The tooth that I previously had a root canal on didn't have the finishing touches of a crown or whatever it is they do, so it was weakened and essentially just for show. I got through a summer in the woods with no dental issues, thank the heavens, but you can imagine my horror when I came back and felt my tooth wiggling. I felt like I was six again, except that the tooth fairy would bring me a big fat medical bill instead of a dollar under my pillow...
 
...until I realized that this tooth was directly across from where I got hit in the jaw. The impact slammed my jaw shut, jamming my teeth together, which I believed caused a small crack in my tooth that grew over time. I can't prove that the demonic digger caused this, but I also can't say that it DIDN'T. Apparently reasonable doubt holds up for worker's comp insurance, because they agreed to cover all of my dental costs.
 
A free tooth! Huzzah!
 
Sounds great, huh? Well, it is, because at least I'm not paying for my own misery, but it turns out that dental work still really sucks even if someone else is paying for it. I didn't realize how invasive this process would be. Maybe I was being naïve because I didn't have to pay a dime, my attitude was more along the lines of "do whatever the hell you want, it's not my bill". The dentist decided to save what was left of my tooth instead of pulling it, but I had to do a "crown lengthening" procedure. I figured it couldn't be that bad because they didn't make anyone come with me. How terrible could it be if I was allowed to drive myself home afterwards? Spoiler alert: still pretty fucking terrible.
 
I went in yesterday thinking that I would be leaving with a slightly sore mouth and not much else. Nope. The crown lengthening involved 5 very painful shots of Novocain, an hour in the chair listening to them drill my bone or something, lots of blood, two stitches in my gums, and a prescription for Codeine. WHAT THE HELL! It was really terrible, probably because I wasn't prepared for the reality of it.
 
Sounds good.
I've been on the couch for 24 hours with instructions to not exercise, do any heavy lifting, drive, or talk much until Saturday. Had I known that was coming I wouldn't have scheduled it for the middle of the week, especially right before two-day mandatory AmeriCorps day of service and training. Luckily I am able to skip the service project day and just attend the training this Saturday, but still. Call me crazy, but I would rather go work on a farm for the day than sit here like a potato with a swollen cheek.
 
Boo.
I think we as a nation can agree that tooth/mouth pain is the worst, especially because you can't verbalize it or else it hurts even more. You can't watch funny things because laughing or smiling hurts. The bright side is that Adam and I have really honed in on our non-verbal communication skills, and have vastly improved our sign language fingerspelling technique over the past 24 hours.
 
I never thought I would say this, but getting hit in the face with a post hole digger is potentially the best thing that could have happened, because at least now I'm not paying for this misery out of my own pocket. Thanks, demon digger!



Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Restless Life Syndrome

Ever heard of restless leg syndrome? The need to move your legs around with no real purpose other
than movement, to quiet some sort discomfort that you can't quite give a name to. Well, I have diagnosed myself with Restless Life Syndrome, a fake ailment I made up in order to attach a label to my current life condition.

Restless Life Syndrome symptoms include but are not limited to:
  • Feeling the need to move around, but without direction or reason
  • Pondering why I'm feeling restless in a job that seems perfect for me
  • General fatigue
  • Feeling like a caged animal anytime I am in the office
  • Watching the days pass very slowly
  • Agonizing over "next steps"
  • And more!
I know your 20's are supposedly the time of uncertainty, of bouncing around from place to place, job to job, of "figuring it all out"... but no one told me the disclaimer that those things aren't always fun. I don't necessarily mean "fun" like watching drunkards sing karaoke is fun, because we all know that paying bills and taxes and whatever is never fun. I mean the kind of anti-fun that comes with being in an organization and position that you enjoy and still feeling bogged down and uncertain on a daily basis.

Anti-fun.

This is a fat lie.
I suspect that I am not cut out for an office life. I have never enjoyed it, aside from a work-study position I had in the college's Admissions office where I listened to gossip from my over-the-top boss and hung out with my peers. Office life is mundane. It's scripted boredom, even when the work is interesting. Even when you work for an organization that you really like, that does awesome work, that you would like to be a part of for a while, that has jobs that are cool and interesting and worthwhile. Office life is shitty even when you're spending time preparing to do fun outdoor things (though it can be hard to appreciate the work when those fun outdoor things are months away). No matter what, the office sucks.

The "general fatigue" symptom of Restless Life Syndrome is particularly pertinent to my days lately. Though I may be technically working less hours than I was earlier this year, and I no longer have the 7 days/week work schedule I used to, I'm still working two jobs and I'm still really fucking tired. This summer I got used to busting my ass from 8am-4pm (and still managing a group of up to 10 teenagers after, but that's a moot point) and then being done. It's been a tough transition into those days when I put in comparatively much less effort from 9am - 9:30pm. Trail life was not easy, but it was never boring.

I'm sad to see myself less and less excited to go to REI, and it's a mix of being over my "honeymoon" period there and just being worn out. I don't plan on leaving; it is a good place to work, after all. The deals are worth it, I like most of my coworkers a whole lot, and I generally enjoy my time there.

And in all of this, there is a nagging sense that I should stop complaining because I have it so good. I DO get to walk around the woods for my job some days. I get to lead eager volunteers who come out and donate their time and efforts to do trail work. Hell yeah. I get to take on projects that will help fuel the engine of this great trail system. I'm gaining valuable job and life experience with an organization that I genuinely support. Making myself feel guilty that I'm not 100% enjoying my days only makes it worse.

Restless Life Syndrome is a bitch.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Raw Milkaggedon

I recently re-watched the second half of the documentary Farmaggedon, a film that I had watched a while ago and convinced Adam he should watch, too. I couldn't exactly remember all the details, but I had remembered liking it - and by liking it, I meant "it pissed me off and made me feel bad about our world, but it had some glimmer of hope at the end". We routinely nixed it from our watch list because he said it would be depressing (it kind of was), but he finally watched it. I caught the end of it and was reminded what the main topic was: raw milk. Well, it was more about government's harmful hand in local food co-ops and small scale farms, but many times people were being "shut down" or raided because of legal issues surrounding raw milk. It blew my mind that raw milk was actually controversial. I also never really considered the milk at the grocery store being "cooked", but that's essentially what pasteurization is.

The documentary included anxiety-inducing recounts of small-time farmers or co-op owners that were raided by the entire town police force, guns drawn. I remember footage of law enforcement officials dumping out gallons of raw milk that had been driven across state borders. I couldn't believe it was actually illegal to bring MILK across state borders - and that it's a federal fucking crime to sell. A FEDERAL crime! Holy shit! But it is legal in some states, though the restrictions on exactly where you can sell it vary (some states allow retail sales, some require sales on at the farm, etc.). I was intrigued by it, but I knew it had a biased spin, even if it was a bias I bought in to. You can't throw a stone at a farmer's market without hitting some food that has a cult following swearing by its healing properties. So, I felt for the farmers and small business owners getting shit on by the government, but I wasn't convinced I should run out and buy raw milk just yet.

The second viewing of Farmaggedon had me curious if Massachusetts legalized the sales of raw milk, and we found that MA only allows farm sales (my home state of NH allows retail sales). It conveniently listed the few farms selling raw milk, and one happened to be relatively close by. Adam joined me in Sudbury, Framingham, and Marlborough to check out the Bay Circuit Trail in that area - basically, he hiked around with me while I got paid. My job is rough, folks. We stopped by Eastleigh Farm in Framingham on our way home to buy some raw milk. I contemplated driving it across state lines to really solidify my gangster street cred. Next time.

Photo Cred: www.eastleighfarm.com/store
Eastleigh Farm looks like any small scale New England working farm - a smattering of antique trucks, picnic tables, evidence of how busy it can get on weekends, etc. The storefront looks like an old bank or or fallout shelter for nuclear warfare, but the inside is much more inviting. Large glass windows allowed us to watch two men making cheese. I was entertained, but the ice cream counter caught my eye. I assumed the ice cream was made from their raw milk, but I can't find evidence on their website that says so. Either way, I eagerly bought a pint of their pumpkin ice cream. I also picked up homemade strawberry preserves (so good) and sweet pickle chips (so so good). And of course, the -BUM BUM BUM- raw milk.




I was excited to try it, and Adam kept telling me he thought it would be good for me. "Maybe it'll help your allergies. I think it'll be so good for you because people drank it forever before pasteurization was a thing." I pointed out that people also used to die at, like, 40, but that's another issue. The first thing I noticed was the difference in color, it almost looks like eggnog. It's hard to tell from the picture, but it's a pretty noticeable difference. It had the texture of whole milk, very rich and creamy, and it tasted like vanilla ice cream. The taste, though subtle, was markedly different than the milk I've been drinking for almost my whole life (mainly skim, though I had a soiree with whole milk for a while). As I drank it I Google'd "raw milk" and found pages of support and equally as many horror stories, but one point I took to heart was to not drink too much at first. A website recommended starting off small amounts so your body could get used to the bacteria. That makes sense, I thought as I sipped my small glass, I'll just start with this. It's good. I'm going to ignore the CDC website that promises days of diarrhea.

Not ten minutes after finishing my first glass did I dive into "nay-sayer" pages, namely the Center for Disease Control and Federal Drug Administration. I was blown away by the CDC's Q&A page about raw milk, which essentially said that even if the raw milk came from a reputable farmer that tested the milk, had a small-scale organic operation with healthy, happy, grass-fed cows, I was likely to be sitting on my toilet with a trash can in front of me soon after I drank it. The CDC reports between 1998-2011 there were 2,384 illnesses and 2 deaths from dairy products, and almost 80% of them came from raw milk. That caught my attention. It seemed that if I was going to get sick from dairy products, it would probably be raw milk (or cheese made from raw milk) that did it.

Uh oh.

Well, I survived the night. I woke Adam up in the morning to read him the CDC Q&A fact sheet and muse over how extreme it was. But I let the thoughts bounce around my head the that morning - there obviously is a risk, did I want to take it? Was it worth it? It was then that I realized that the CDC infiltrated my brain. That's a bit dramatic. But what clicked was a comment I had made to Adam that morning about all the other outbreaks in the past few years; spinach and peanut butter immediately come to mine, and the only thing that's ever made me sick is meat (and that one time I ate half-cooked brownies, but that was my own fault). I did some searching and found that in the same time period of 1998-2011 meat, poultry, vegetables, and fruits were all bigger offenders of causing health issues, from general illness to death.

I can use nice stock photos, too, FDA.
I was curious to see what governmental agencies said about raw vegetables since proven to be biggest source of illness. The FDA's page gave consumers solid advice (that I can almost guarantee you no one follows to a T), but what stuck out to me most was how much nicer the webpage was. It simply looked nicer, with beautiful stock photos of berries and lettuce being washed. Not only was it more aesthetically pleasing, but the descriptions of what could "go wrong" were very different. The site on raw vegetables says eating contaminated can lead to food borne illnesses, while the site on raw milk  mention vomiting, diarrhea, abdominal pain, fever, headache, body ache, and other fast-acting symptoms that can be chronic, severe, and life-threatening. The site on raw veggies also says that it is okay to eat packaged veggies labeled as "pre-washed", and this is after an outbreak of a deadly strain of E.Coli in pre-washed spinach that killed several people back in 2006.

I read another article written by someone that went through the same process I did - trying and enjoying raw milk and finding horror stories online. She tells stories of young people with serious medical issues including kidney failure and paralysis. It seems reasonable to stop doing something after you see other people dying (or almost dying), but I wondered if she had read this article by CNN listing the #1 cause of foodborne illness as fruits and vegetables, and the #1 cause of death from foodborne illness as meat and poultry. Vegetables are good for us, so we don't stop eating them just because they sometimes cause illness.

On the same token as vegetables, I am not convinced that I need to stop drinking raw milk because there's a chance I may get sick. I know that comparing raw milk to raw vegetables is almost comparing apples to oranges since proper storage and washing often eliminate the dangers of illness, whereas you cannot "wash" raw milk. But plenty of people still get very very sick from supposedly "safe" vegetables, from cooked burger patties, etc. I'm not a full fledged raw milk convert yet, but I'm not convinced I need to stop drinking it. What I am convinced of is how ridiculous it is to make raw milk illegal because it may make you sick, while we legally distribute a bajillion harmful narcotics that absolutely DO make people very sick.

So, do you drink raw milk? Do you love it? Hate it? Did you sit on your toilet with diarrhea for a week? TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT!

Friday, October 24, 2014

Great Story

My AmeriCorps program requires a lot of reporting, there's a lot of paperwork to keep up with. I understand the necessity, but it usually makes me groan. One avenue of reporting that I have taken a liking to, though, is "Great Story". Every few months we have to submit a great story about a highlight from our service. I figured the first great story submission wouldn't be that impressive since I'm not far long in my service. I had no idea what I was going to write about, but I found my story earlier along than I expected. Here it is:

Your senses are different when you live in a city. It is something that creeps up on you. You don’t feel much different, but somehow you learn how to sleep in a not-quite-dark room that abuts your building’s parking lot. You can pick up on the sound of a dump truck two blocks away and just know that it’s about to come make a racket on your street. You are an expert at predicting which car is most likely to cut you off (hint: it’s all of them), and you can blend offensive and defensive driving with style and grace.

Home sweet home
This set of “city senses” was foreign to me when I came back to Boston to start my service year. I had spent three months working for the Appalachian Mountain Club, my current host site, running teen volunteer trail crews in western Massachusetts. For all intents and purposes I lived in the woods, though we did have “special things” like cell service and days off. My home was either an 8x10’ canvas tent or a 1-person backpacking tent. It was dark at night. Like, really dark. Birds sang, coyotes howled. My commute to work included mud-caked clothes from the day before, medical kits, extra water, food, and tools. We worked with our hands. Teenagers are generally a noisy bunch, but life was overall much quieter.
It was a sad realization that my outdoor senses wouldn’t be necessary on a day-to-day basis, at least not in the same way. Even still, I was excited to start my service with the AMC on Bay Circuit Trail. My first few weeks were jam packed with meet-and-greets and field visits to the BCT. The BCT is a patchwork of towns that host a section of trail, so there were a lot of dedicated volunteers to meet. I was looking forward to field visits, which usually meant hiking parts the trail, often with a point person for that section. Beth, my supervisor, was attending a conference on my second full week of these types of meet-and-greets. She set up a few hikes so I could continue connecting with people involved on the BCT. One of those people was Al.
So real.
Al French has been a big name for the BCT since its conception, and he has stayed involved in several organizations connected to the BCT in his retirement. I was to meet him at his home in Andover, MA, at 8:00am on a Wednesday morning.  As I ventured out into morning rush hour, I realized how much my city driving senses had returned to me. I could ponder why Interstate-95 North was a bonafide parking lot (shouldn’t cars be going INTO the city?) while lackadaisically honking at the person that just cut me off after crossing four lanes without a turn signal – and not rear ending him! I watched the minutes tick by as I sat in another traffic jam at the exit for Interstate-93. Why would they make the meeting of the two biggest highways in the state so terrible? Who designed this? I thought as I saw a BMW try to cut the line of stopped cars on the exit ramp. Oh no, he was not cutting the line and sneaking in front of me. I think I actually said, “No, you will wait your turn”, out loud as I closed any potential gap he could get into. I looked in my rearview mirror at the 18-wheeler behind me and silently rooted for him to join me in this vigilante traffic justice. He heard my calls and made sure this rogue line cutter had to wait his turn. I actually cheered. That’s when I knew I was back in the belly of the Boston beast.
I hastily arrived at Al’s house ten minutes late, profusely apologizing to him for the delay. He smiled, shook my hand, and invited me inside. He offered me breakfast as we sat and chatted by the fire he had going. I mused about how different my scenery had become in such a short amount of time.  Al took me on one his favorite stretches of the BCT, he told me it would be a slow walk because of his old age. Al doesn’t give himself enough credit. The first question he asked me on our walk caught me off guard: “When someone asks you what this job is, what do you tell them?” I said, “Well, Al, I’m an AmeriCorps member so I tell them that this is not my JOB, it’s SERVICE…” Just kidding. The first time I answered I spit out the small blurb you develop in any job, the standard response to “what do you do?”. He asked me again, and I realized he was urging me to dive deeper. What is this thing I’m doing? What is the Bay Circuit? Why am I here? I was hooked.
I didn’t mind the slow pace, because Al had a wealth of knowledge, stories, and advice to share with me.  I was fascinated, curious, and eager to hear what he had to say. But he was more interested in talking to me, hearing what my thoughts were on almost any topic. He said he loved to talk to younger people and that’s why he enjoyed running his local outdoor store; he chuckled and said, “The young folks there had to talk to me, they didn’t have a choice.” Mostly, I think he was interested in bridging the age gap that exists in the conservation world.

Al also enthusiastically answered every question I asked him, and his answers always had a tidbit of advice or wisdom. I asked him how many times he had hiked the entire trail. He gave his best guess, and then the conversation turned to something else. A few minutes later he stopped in the middle of the trail and said, “you know, I thought more about how many times I’ve hiked it. I think it was three, my wife and I went together once. You should really get out without your cell phone and go do something like that with someone you love.” It was simple yet powerful.

We neared the end of our walk and stopped at a viewing platform overlooking a large wetland area. Al said he loved this spot because it was a great place to come sit, read a book, eat a sandwich, whatever you wanted to do. I agreed, saying it was nice to have a place to get away from the hubbub of everyday life, noting that technology distracts us so much nowadays that we’re rarely ever truly present. His response was, “Ah, yes, now that’s a good lead-in. I ask all of my grandkids this – in your opinion, what is the purpose of education?” It caught me off-guard, made me pause and really think. Al had turned a simple meet-and-greet walk into something much more all-encompassing and thought-provoking.

Our hike ended with a stroll through the Mary A. French Reservation, where he showed me a beautiful bench constructed to memorialize his late wife whom the Reservation is named after. We parted ways at his car; he shook my hand and told me it had been a pleasure. There’s not many times you can actually say “it’s been a pleasure” and truly mean it, but I was happy to say it as a whole truth. Needless to say, it was a much more pleasant drive home.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Back like a Bad Habit

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack........!
............on my own blog.

Okay, so it's not very impressive. I say I'm back like a "bad habit" because I have a bad habit of starting blogs, maintaining them for a few months, forgetting about them, coming back to them, deleting thing, starting new ones... you get the idea. I decided to come back to this one because it already exists and I don't feel like making another one. It was intended to just be a blog about my summer in the woods, but why not just continue along? I'm still in the woods, sometimes.

That being said, I feel like I need a new name. It's not summer, and I'm writing this from downtown Boston.. sooo... suggestions, please!

Here are some highlights since my return from the woods:

  • ROAD TRIP & GUNS. Immediately after my season ended, I went to Pennsylvania with Adam to spend some time at his grandparent's house. Major highlight: I shot a gun for the very first time.
Terrifying / Kinda fun
  • I GOT A REAL OFFICE SPACE. I started my new position with MassLIFT-AmeriCorps (Massachusetts Land Initiative for Tomorrow), where I am the Community Engagement Coordinator for the Bay Circuit Trail at the Appalachian Mountain Club until the beginning of August, 2015. Try saying that 10 times fast. Next time someone asks me what I do I'll just throw a business card at them and tell them to figure it out themselves. It's great, though. The transition period was a little rough, but thankfully I had a little while to get settled before our AmeriCorps orientation at Harvard Forest in Petersham, MA.  It was an intensive week of orientation to all things MassLIFT-AmeriCorps. There was a lot to wrap my head around, and I'm still trying to do so a month and a half later. We also attended the Land Trust Alliance Rally in Providence, RI, and were able to attend really cool workshops relating to our service.
Walking tour of Harvard Forest

So official!

  • I WALK AROUND THE WOODS A LOT. Most of September was spent orienting myself to my new position, meeting lots of new faces at the AMC, connecting with people in the Trails Dept. that I knew from my position this summer, and learning the ropes of the Bay Circuit. This meant many field visits where I met people of importance (regional reps, long-term volunteers, etc.) and walked around the woods with them. October finally saw the start of some of my projects. I will complete 6 "capacity building" projects in my service year here, and once the groundwork was laid out I was able to progress on some of those projects. I still feel as though I'm orienting myself, but now I'm orienting myself in these projects, not just in my position as a whole. My time is split about 50/50 in the office and in the field - not too shabby. I have had the opportunity to meet many fun, quirky, dedicated folks, as well as see parts of Massachusetts I would never have otherwise. I've also really ENJOYED the hidden gems of Eastern Massachusetts, something I never thought I would say. Don't worry New Hampshire, I still love you so much harder.
Taken on a scouting hike at Walden Pond

  •  FALL IS HERE.... though the weather of September and much of October didn't feel like it. It's finally cooling off! I made it up to New Hampshire to peep the leafs along the Kanc, as well as go apple picking and see the sites of the Deerfield Fair.
Apple picking at Lull Farm

Giant pumpkins at Deerfield Fair
  • EMMA KEEPS GROWING UP. Why do kids get old so fast?! Jeesh. Emma turned 6 in early September and started 1st grade. She rides the bus, for goodness sake! I can't believe how time has flown by. We celebrated her birthday with a My Little Pony rainbow cake in our yard with family friends.

Her reaction will go down in history
 
  •  I LIVE IN AMONGST THE WEALTHY. Two poor people, namely Adam and I, weaseled their way into Newton. We have been enjoying the new neighborhood in a more "grown up" apartment. Things are finally settling down from the move, and we hosted our first potluck for our REI buddies.
So much food!
  • WE FINALLY WENT HIKING. I say that I hike a lot for my job, but really I'm walking on flat ground in the woods. It's lovely, and it's not uncommon to hike 5+ miles at a time, but it doesn't carry the allure of higher peaks. Adam and I finally got our butts up to the Whites and hiked Pierce and Eisenhower on a beautiful day.
Summit of Mt. Pierce
  • MY KNEE EXPLODED. Kind of. I took a full swinging step that landed my knee cap square against a giant metal demon on the side of the dumpster for my building. All seemed well aside from a generally sore knee, but things have gotten worse in the past few days. I got X-Rays last night and luckily nothing is chipped or cracked, but I do have some fluid build up in my knee that may need to get drained if it gets worse. Not a huge deal, but it's potentially making me sit out the trip to Mt. Washington we have planned for this Monday. Booooo.
So continues my knee injury saga

And that's what my life has been since I left the woods of the Berkshires. I don't expect to update this nearly as much as I would like to, but I hope to maintain it as I progress in my new position. Happy trails!