Wounds and Healing

The AC adapter on my laptop sparked and then died last week. Much has happened, but only today did I get a replacement cord so that I could tell you about it all.
Gwyneth, my long lost soul-sister visited all last week with her sweetie Eric, whom I had not met, but whom I thoroughly enjoyed and highly approve of. They arrived last Monday night and on Tuesday morning I had an appointment to have a few moles biopsied. In my naivite, I did not realize "biopsy" the doctor was going to dig great craters in my skin (come on, people! A man on the moon and we are still leaving craters "just in case"?), and in my advanced hypochondria and narcissism following the procedure, I was paralyzed by fear of infection and irreparable scarring. Luckily Gwyn and Eric are both in nursing school and tended to me with care and encouragement. My wounds have scabbed over nicely and I just got word that the pathology report on the detached moles came back normal.
Once I recovered from my mutilation, I had such a good time with Gwyn and Eric! We rented surfboards and wetsuits and spent several blissful hours in the waves. We made some kick-ass mac and cheese, Gwyn made earth shattering brownies, and we had some great meals out too, and generally relaxed good times.
As they pulled away on Monday afternoon, I was sorry to see them go and a sadness tugged at my heart. Another dear friend is entering a world that is foreign to me and committing to an intimate partnership. I so look forward to catching up with them!

Leaving

I can't wait to leave. I can't get out of this house fast enough (one of my roomates just came back from wherever she was and I am now listening to the thump thump of her world music through the paper-thin wall). I have been wanting school to be finished since about the 3rd week in. I am thrilled that there are only 13 days left. I am excited to be traveling again with home as my destination, seeing family and friends, starting new work. But its pretty lonely being excited to leave a place, especially a place where nobody knew you particularly well anyway. "Go ahead and go already" is the vibe I get. Maybe I have been protecting myself all year from knowing anyone well enough that it would be hard to walk away from them. (The thumping just got louder; what if I was sleeping in here?)
anyway, yesterday, I had sort of a tourist day. I went to Ocean Beach to the oft' talked of People's Food Co-op and Old Town where I bought a San Diego sweatshirt so that for years to come I can advertise this year I've had of adventure and growth. I also went to Mission San Diego, which was the first mission in California and the namesake of the city. It is inland a short way and it was quiet and sunny there with a sweet breeze (it has been depressingly grey here for over a week!). It's just a simple old church and some half-ruined monks quarters, but it had a a contented peace about it that little in life has had of late, and that I crave. A wedding had either ended a short while ago and a photographer was moving the party around from picturesque spot to spot. I could just have easily come upon a funeral or an empty, unused church, but it was a joyful beginning that I caught a glimpse of. When I got back in the car Tess Viglund was interviewing a woman who wrote a book about how weddings are such a huge business and that a weekend limousine rental that would normally cost $450 would run you more like $700 if you happened to be wearing a puffy white dress and a veil. The writer and her husband had been married on a Thursday afternoon at the courthouse and had later thrown a big party at their house.
I came home through downtown Encinitas where I stopped to look for birthday gifts for just about everyone I know. Their is a cool old theater, La Paloma, that never seems to be playing anything I want to see, but that I really wanted to go to. The Hoax, was playing at 6:30, so I rushed home and changed into warmer, movie-going clothes and went back to the theater. It is a beautiful specimen of old west architechture, and my popcorn and soda cost drastically less than it would have at the multiplex. It was an interesting movie, with a little snafoo in the middle when the reel change went afoul, but the three old ladies I met in the bathroom and I agreed that it couldn't have happened at a better time. (I just heard a door slam. I think I am alone in the house again. Aaaah!)
What a nice way to begin to say my goodbyes! If none of the people are gushing over my departure, the city (and environs) are certainly pulling out all the stops to make me feel both welcome to have enjoyed this place for this time, and welcome to go, with no hard feelings and an open invitation to visit any time!

Midnight Snack

There is a little boy in my class who causes me considerable aggravation, but who regularly touches my heart with his well-shrouded but undeniable sweetness. He sometimes goes running from the classroom without permission. On one such occasion, I caught him in the hallway nibbling on the remains of his lunch. "I needed a midnight snack" he said to me with utter sincerity.
At the age of 32, I'm not saying it is impossible for me too change, but I have come to accept that if there is chocolate in my house, I will not rest until I have ingested it. Utterly worn out from child-herding, I slept for about 3 hours this afternoon. When I got home from choir this evening, I therefore had enough energy to cook up a chicken stir-fry for tomorrow's lunch, watch a little tv, read a bit, hatch an exhilerating scheme for my future (more to follow if anything pans out), and still at 1:46am I see no sign of sleep on the horizon. My defenses significantly weakened, I open the desk drawer where I know the remains of a bar of chocolate are waiting. I needed a midnight snack.

Armed and Handy

Our toilet clogs a lot. This could have something to do with the q-tips and cotton balls that my roommates flush, but I'm just guessing.
Years ago I was squeamish and inexperienced in the arena of toilet plunging. Whenever possible I would leave the crime scene and pretend it had nothing to do with me. I can't remember the circumstance of my first successful plunge (I think my mom coached me) but I do remember feeling very powerful that I would never again have to skulk away from a clogged toilet and leave someone else to clean up my mess.
Which brings me back to this evening. One of my roommates was having a party, so I went late to the gym and caught an even later movie to avoid social torture. Ready to hit the sack, I returned to find the score was toilet 1, visitors 0. Sadly the entire bathroom floor had become a pond in the fight. I could have used the other bathroom and left it til morning, but chances are it would still be there waiting for me. Feeling extremely righteous at doing someone else's dirty work, I waded into the pond on rafts of paper towel and gave that toilet something to think about! Problem solved! I even did a cursory drying of the floor. I am such a grownup!

Direction

Lately I have been wrenched in all directions trying to decide what will happen when school ends in June. Stay? Go home? Keep exploring? After some dedicated attention to my personal demons, I found myself in a joyful calm and I knew - it was time to go home, post haste.
I get a range of reactions to this decision. Pretty much everyone at home could understand wanting to migrate to the sun and palm trees of San Diego, but locals here wonder what suburban Pennsylvania holds that I am in such a hurry for?
I thought of a brilliant answer this evening in the kitchen, surrounded by piles of green vegetables awaiting transformation: my home is heaven and I can't help but want to be back there. Why do I keep leaving then? Here is a very simplified picture of reincarnation as I understand it; we keep coming back to earth although it is difficult and imperfect because it is the only way to grow. There is no freedom in heaven unless we are free to leave. It's the same with leaving home. I become more myself each time I leave and experience myself against the backdrop of unfamiliarity. And I am renewed when I return to the roads I learned to drive on, the smell my parents' house, the language my family has created over our years together, time spent with the friends who taught me what friendship is.