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.

 





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

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!





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.