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lokilickedme · 2 years

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In less than 2 hours we sign the papers for our house and are officially no longer homeless. We've been basically drifters since December 4 of last year and while it's been interesting to say the least, I think I'm going to have to face the fact that at this point in my life I don't care to do anything like this ever again. What a long strange trip it's been. There were some experiences along the way that I wouldn't want to miss if it had never happened the way it did, though...

Some good, some not so much.

Like sitting in our empty house on the final night before we hit the road, talking to my only living sibling over pizza about life in general and our lives in particular, knowing we'd probably never see each other again after this trip but finally understanding each other after 40-something years of pretending things were a certain way in our family and acknowledging that no, they're not

Packing up an entire house in less than a week, just me and my brother, and coming to the profound realization that the lives of four whole people can be loaded into boxes and stacked in a truck and after a couple of days you stop missing the stuff you put in them

The windstorm in the Texas panhandle that blew me straight into the gas pumps the moment I stepped out of the car and hearing what had to be a 90 year old man yell JESUS CHRIST WHAT MOTHERFUCKER PISSED IN POSEIDON'S POST TOASTIES...and wondering for the next 200 miles what the god of the sea had to do with a windstorm in Dumas

Listening to Little read town names from the back seat and agreeing wholeheartedly with his pronunciation of Dumas as Dumbass

Telling my kids the story of Milagro as we passed through with white knuckles and picking up my phone to hear my husband say "Hey, you remember what happened that night in Milagro?"

Listening to a radio deejay speak Diné for hours as we drove through Navajo Nation land in New Mexico

Finally seeing the Shiprock for the first time

The snowstorm that chased us all the way from Santa Fe to Moab

Watching/trying not to watch the couple on the balcony above us at the hotel in Monticello while we stood in the parking lot trying to figure out which way to go (they were gettin’ it epic, ya’ll)

Seeing the first massive range of mountains in the rear view mirror as we headed over the second

Being tired of mountains by the time we hit the third

Losing the race to beat the snowstorm and waking up in Castle Valley to more snow than I’ve seen in 40 years

Heading out of Castle Valley like our asses were on fire to beat the second blast of the oncoming storm

Eating something in Moab Utah that...I don’t know what that was. It was good, but I’m not doing that again. Mama likes to know what’s going in her mouth thanks

Screaming over the walkie-talkies with my brother and Big in the truck in front of us and some random traveler who was on the same channel as we crossed the border into Colorado

Taking pictures while I was driving and having people in passing vehicles wave at the camera

The snow

God, the snow. Oh, and the rockslide.

Watching the Bookcliffs get bigger and bigger the closer we got to our destination

Arriving at our destination as homeless drifters and wondering why it wasn’t as romantic and exciting this time as it was when I did it alone 30 years ago. Must have had something to do with the kids having farting contests in the motel room.

Going down to the motel lobby every morning for a week in my pajamas and parka for what seemed like the best damn coffee in the whole world while the blizzard blasted around us like it was never gonna end

Waving to the snow plow every day at noon from the motel balcony with the boys

Snowflakes the size of your fist

Lobby coffee. I still have wet dreams about it.

Never wanting to see the inside of another motel for as long as I live after just about 4 days of being cooped up in one room with three males and two cats. The lobby coffee helped

Moving into the ranch. The murderous peacock horde and Jim the bull and the goat with no ears that bites the back of your leg as you run screaming and never knowing if it was JD, Dingo, or Ratch that was banging around in the basement at any given 2 am and never finding out what Dingo looks like because you only ever saw him from a distance, but nothing beats a good mystery and you know I have available faceclaims

Sitting in the attic with my notebook, typing away while it snows outside on the little mountain town we’re about to call home

Getting an explosive nosebleed in Rock’s Record Store under a life sized poster of George Harrison and going outside only to slip and fall in the dead center of the street, which around these parts is how new residents become locals

Feeling all kinds of weird despair when being told over the phone by an official with the Colorado Department of Education that without a permanent address I would have to register my boys as homeless to be able to continue their homeschooling

Looking at house after house and finding empty closets to cry in in strangers’ homes because everything was either too tiny, too expensive, needed too much work, too expensive, too far from husband’s workplace, too expensive, too everything and too nothing and just...too too

Finding a house we could afford and coming to within two weeks of closing only to have it yanked out from under us and finding out it was a blessing in disguise because no shit you guys, the deceased previous owner owed some dangerous people a lot of money and they had liens on the house that the deceased previous owner’s daughter didn’t know about before she put it up for sale. The house has since been taken off the market and the daughter has disappeared.

Finding another house we love in an incredible location in our price range (barely) that ISN’T being repo’ed by the mafia and putting in an offer on it within one hour of the listing going live...and being informed the next afternoon that we got it.

Calling the Colorado Department of Education back and having them remove the boys’ homeless status.

This afternoon after the closing/signing we start unloading our stuff from the storage lockers into the house and we are having our Bootleg Christmas in February, folks. I have gifts packed up that we didn’t have time to open before we left (we were on the road on Dec 25 and my brother, an anti-holiday Culty, was with us the entire week before that helping me pack up the house) so I finally get to see what @texmexdarling sent me :)

See you guys on the other side.

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arh4591-5500 · 4 years

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Week 4 Reflection - Brianna DeMan

Edward Hopper and the American Hotel:

The Hopper exhibition, for me, was a case study in how the spatial layout and intimacy of floor plan can make or break the display. For the first ~4 rooms, the space felt carefully curated, establishing Hopper as an artist, then his relationship with hotels and travel. We began to understand how the hotel and Hopper’s art had risen in tandem, and that his depictions, though often promotional in nature, explored the loneliness and contemplation of a hotel visitor. With the recreation of the hotel lobby and the sight lines created by the framing of artworks with the doorways between rooms, there was a clear path to follow and a development of the exhibition. The use of paint colors was also tied into the displays, helping to separate the different spaces and themes, while still allowing them to relate to one another. As the exhibition began to open up, past the two interactive screens, the feeling of intimacy and of connection to Hopper disappeared. The large, expansive room did not feel curated, but instead like a random compilation of hotel-related art. With no clear pathway to take through the space, it was easy for visitors to skip pieces, and the lack of intentionality and direction made the works seem less important. It is possible that the exhibition ran out of Hopper’s works (seems unlikely), but there were I believe only two of Hopper’s pieces from the large gallery space on. We as viewers lost the connection to Hopper and his interpretation of the American hotel; there was no act of comparison or continuity of legacy being shown. For me, this brought the entire exhibition down greatly, and it felt like two separate exhibits had been haphazardly attached. This really brought into focus for me the importance not only of continuity throughout the exhibition space, but also of ensuring that the exhibit has a strong conclusion, to tie the exhibit together and leave the visitor with an impression of the overall intention of the exhibit. For Hopper’s exhibition, simply concluding with a reflection on how he influenced hotel motifs in art, or his lasting impact would have been a satisfying conclusion. Instead, this was located at the midpoint and became lost in the unraveled thread that was the second half of the exhibit.

The recreation of the lobby from Hotel Lobby was an ingenious way to bring the visitor into Hopper’s world, as well as evoke the feeling of a hotel in the 1940s. This, as well as the viewing window of Western Motel’s setting, were very dynamic and popular with the visitors as well. There were several families with children that walked through the exhibition while I was there, and the youngest children loved running through the hotel lobby on the green carpet, and climbing into the chairs. For all visitors, the viewing window of Western Motel was fascinating, and while watching people approach, there were many audible reactions, including “wow”. The ability to give viewers a more tactile impression of the paintings very much made an impact on their exhibit experience, and was one of the most memorable elements of the exhibition.

Furthermore, the sight lines created by the exhibition helped to pique interest and motivate the visitor to continue further into the exhibit. This, paired with the use of color to separate the spaces, allowed for a sense of discovery as the next room could not be fully viewed until the visitor entered it. The hotel lobby was invisible until one entered the room, the viewing window for Western Motel was not visible until one went behind the dividing wall and looked to their left. I also thought that the inclusion of sketched characters to propel the visitor forward as the exhibit passed through an emergency exit hallway was a simple yet effective method of creating intrigue. The figures appeared to be looking towards the next room, creating interest in what they were viewing.

Lastly, the travel guide that accompanied the exhibition was in my opinion exceedingly clever. The form tied into Hopper’s transient life from hotel to hotel and worked like a road map for the exhibition, giving more information on select works. I absolutely adored the personalization and detail that was apparent through this small change of form. It very much helped to form an overall impression of the exhibit as well.

Black History Museum:

In the Black History Museum, my focus was consistently drawn to the layout and use of space. The use of the hallway as a timeline and introduction to the museum I felt was clever, but placing information on both sides of the hallway made it difficult to accommodate more than a few people, and those not using the interactive screens were often unable to move through the space. I did note however that the use of primarily black and white, with intermittent pops of color, was quite effective in creating a more reverent and somber mood, which reflected the heaviness of the topics being displayed.

One critical note I had regarding the screens was the manner in which they prohibited many people from getting the information simultaneously. I was behind a couple for several minutes trying to view the screen underneath the emancipation oak. The amount of information located in the interactive elements is both positive and negative—allowing for more to be told, but for fewer people to actively interact with the information at once.

With the Paradox of Liberty exhibition, the interactiveness of the exhibit was helpful in giving visitors a glimpse into the reality of the life of a slave at Monticello. The combination of artifacts with interactive elements brought the story of these families from history to reality. One thing that bothered me was the colors used in the exhibition, which made the space seem almost childlike. This may have been done to make the story of these enslaved people more approachable for families and children, but for me it seemed to downplay the importance of the lives being depicted.

The layout of this exhibit was well done in my opinion. Each family had their own history laid out on one wall, and the central display boxes featured artifacts from Mulberry Row. Additionally, the location of the Hemings family on the rear wall and further behind the dividing wall was important to telling the stories of these families equally. The Hemings family are the most well known of Jefferson’s enslaved people, and giving them greater focus, while also ensuring that the other families were introduced first and given their proper dues was well done with the division of space.

The pamphlet for the exhibition helped to ensure that the visitor continued to reflect on the lives impacted and the untold side of this narrative at Monticello. The reflective questions on the back cover helped to form a lasting impression of the exhibition, and to connect it to the larger impact of slavery in the United States. I appreciated that these questions were approachable for all ages, with more simplistic questions that children could respond to as well as more thoughtful and difficult questions that adults could still grapple with.

On both floors of the museum, the creative use of the emergency escape locations and the glass doors in front was very memorable. On the first floor, there was a KKK costume and on the second floor, a bust of Jefferson. With both of these elements, they were relegated to a place of display but not of reverence. If they had been in a true glass case, the impression would have been different, but putting them behind glass doors visually separated them from the rest of the exhibit while preventing a sense of admiration.

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greekowl87 · 6 years

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Fic: False Flags Redux (1/13)

Author’s Note: Let me start by stating this work was a grand experiment for me. I have never written a mystery or case file before, this the longest thing I have written and completed (besides a 22-page graduate research paper on William Shakespeare), and for the most part, I have this almost completed before I started posting it. This started its life as a drabble written for @txf-prompt-box back in early September. It kept growing and I created a Frankenstein fic. I hold this little creation very close to my heart and I hope you all enjoy it as I have enjoyed writing it.

Lastly, a massive, million thanks to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm and @scully-loves-ruthie for the constant hand-holding, criticism, feedback, and overall being the awesome of the most awesome people and helping me get through this. Seriously, these two deserve a medal.

Tagging @today-in-fic

Timeline: Season 6. Making me pick episodes? Before ‘How the Ghost Stole Christmas.’ Before they got the X-Files back and before ‘Tithonaeous’. Use your headcanon imagination.

1/13

It was taken from me. Plain and simple. This is a story of revenge. Plain and simple.

You see, I remember everything. Sure, they don’t but I do. They don’t matter. I remember how my heart was ripped out. He stole it and she ripped it out. Stamped it on the ground. Burned it. Neither party is innocent. Both are guilty. I am the judge, jury, and executor. And the kicker? I remember everything. And I am willing to kill to get it back.

The betrayal. The heartbreak. I want revenge. I have been wanting revenge for 135 years. I had it once. I will have it again.

I did not realize how much I wanted it until I saw her again.

I did not realize why I was doing it to begin with. I just felt this need…this anger. I was always angry. I always wanted to lash out. That’s how it started. One girl here. It felt good. Another random guy there. Even better. I had no agenda. Another random person there. I just needed to do it. I did not discriminate or plan. I just did it to do it. Like a smoker smokes a cigarette to smoke. I killed just to kill. I got no physical satisfaction than knowing I did it.

But then they caught me. I saw her.

And then, I remembered everything.

… .

Federal Building Norfolk, Virginia December 12, 1998

It was cold. Not bitterly cold but enough to send a chill to your bone. The sky was overcast; so grey it looked heavy and ready to release some sort of precipitation, and the cold was always snapping, freezing, ready to make any rain turn to snow. The weird thing is that it would never snow. Norfolk, Virginia, was a conundrum. A city steeped in history but unsure where to go between the historic district and the hodge-podge of Victorian, Art Deco, and modern architecture. The weather seemed to fit right in.

On the corner of Charlotte Street and Brambleton Avenue, a four-story building dominated. It was built with a nod to the art deco style, with its boxy shape, antiqued lamps, and boxy fanned out styles. The Walter E. Hoffman courthouse appeared just as much out of place as the rest of the buildings in the city.

Outside art deco courthouse, two FBI agents huddled near each other to try and escape the biting cold. Agent Dana Scully looked pointedly at the sign marked ‘U.S. Marshal Parking Only’ in bright right and white letters and then towards their rental 1997 Chevy Impala. “Mulder,” she mused, “are you sure we can park there?”

Special Agent Fox Mulder blew into his gloved hands and gazed at the parking sign ominously. “We’re FBI. They’re U.S. Marshals,” he shrugged. “We’re both federal agents in law enforcement. What’s the difference?”

Scully licked her chapped lips, choosing not to argue the point. “Can we at least get out of the cold? I want to get this over with.”

“What?” her partner teased. “Looking forward to more background checks?”

“No. And no. I hate the cold. And Kersh’s background cheeks. I just want to get home,” she shivered. “Something about the cold makes me want to become a hermit.”

Mulder rubbed her arms slightly trying to generate heat. “I don’t blame you,” he shrugged. “The Vineyard is way worse. At least it decides if it wants to snow or not.”

“Shut up about the snow. I hate the snow. You know that.”

“You could always move to Miami.” She gave him a withering glance and he smiled lightly. “Then let’s get out of this cold. If you behave, I’ll buy you a lollipop after all this.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

Even through the thick layers of her suit and heavy wool coat, the pressure of his touched seared itself into her lower back right above her ouroboros tattoo. She straightened her back unconsciously, her back cracking, and stretched her neck. “I wish we could have stayed at the hotel across the street,” she mumbled, nodding to the large 12 story v-shaped hotel across the street. “Looks a lot nicer than where we’re staying at. And closer.”

“Hey, Kersh’s dollars at least gets us a step up from a motel. We’re staying by the airport.”

“There’s nothing by the airport.”

Mulder frowned and teased her. “Well, there’s the beach. The hotel is supposed to be really nice.”

“Virginia Beach,” she specified, “which we aren’t exactly on the oceanfront, are we?”

He gestured eastwards. “The river?”

“Mulder, the ocean and the river are not the same things.” She shook her head slightly in an effort be rid of the chill the creeping into her bone. “Regardless, can we get out of this cold? I really don’t understand why even drove down here, Mulder. We just have to testify at a sentencing hearing.” She held up a finger for dramatic pause. “Sentencing hearing.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want us sitting behind the desk doing background checks?”

She arched an eyebrow and shook her head. “How is that a step up? Okay, okay,” she sighed. “But can we at least get out of this cold? I’m freezing.”

Mulder ushered her into the courthouse through the main entrance on Monticello Avenue. They shed their coats, showed their badges, went through the security checkpoint, took the required elevator, and walked the required amount of steps to courtroom B. They slid in among the shuffling of journalists, cops, lawyers, and other courtroom witnesses. Scully saw the judge enter unceremoniously from the left as the bailiff rose and called for order.

She watched from afar as the male judge looked briefly over the day’s docket and then towards the defendant, the serial killer her and Mulder had caught the year previously

“Well,” the judge sighed, opening. “This should be fairly straightforward. Francis Buckley, rise please.”

The defense lawyer jumped up. “Aren’t you going to hear testimony in defense of my client?”

“Sir,” the judge answered, “I see no one jumping to defend your client for brutally murdering three people. The only people here to testify are the two FBI agents that caught him and I sincerely doubt that will cast any light on your client’s…good grace and he has already been convicted by a court of three murders. How much longer do you want me to drag this through the mud?” The lawyer’s mouth flapped uselessly and the judge looked pointedly at him. “Rise, Mr. Buckley.”

Scully watched as a large man in his mid-thirties rose, dressed in the classic orange jail jumpsuit and chained. She felt something in the air shift and glanced towards Mulder to see if he noticed. The defendant, Francis Buckley, turned to look over his shoulder slightly. He grinned when his brown eyes zeroed in on her. She felt cold, like icicles dropping down her back in sharp pain. She physically jumped and felt Mulder’s hand instantly squeeze her knee in reassurance. She glanced at her partner as his hazel eyes gazed at her quizzically. She nodded quickly before regaining her composure. Buckley smiled, even more, when he noticed Mulder before turning back to the judge.

It was a whirlwind. Before she even knew it, Mulder was gently ushering her out the door with his familiar hand on the small of her back. She could hear him talking. Something about lunch.

“Scully,” he called gently, “are you even listening to me?”

She sucked in a quick breath and blinked as if coming out of a revere. “Yeah.” She blinked a few more times to clear her eyes. “Yeah. Sorry about that, Mulder. Must have of dazed off there for a second.”

He studied her for a moment and nodded. “Well, we don’t have to be back in Washington until tomorrow. You want to play hooky this afternoon in the wonderful city of Norfolk, Virginia? The Chrysler Museum is nearby.”

She nodded again, more quickly than her body would let her. She was eager for the distraction to take her focus away from the building uneasiness that was in the back of her mind.

… .

I saw her today. I was hoping to see her today. And he was there too. This will be so easy.

… .

Norfolk, Virginia February 1, 1862

The young lieutenant pulled his gray kepi down over his ears and buried his face into his own greatcoat bemoaning the cold. Even in the beginning of February, it was bitingly cold. The snow crunched under the wagon’s wheels as it drove slowly among Freemason street. He shifted uncomfortably as he surveyed on what would be his new home for an undetermined amount of time.

Polished and affluent homes combed the streets on either side of him. He felt uneasy being out and about here. He much preferred to be with the other marines at the barracks at the naval yard where they awaited the completion of the navy’s newest ironclad, CSS Virginia, previously known as the USS Merrimac.

Honestly, he never knew why God had intended him to be the butt of some cruel, universal joke. He was an army man, a graduate of Virginia Military Institute. Hell, he was supposed to be a part of blossoming community of military intelligence. But no. He was stuck on a boat and surrounded by navy men. He got seasick easily too.

God, how he had wished his mother had not intervened with his career.

As the carriage trotted down the cobbled road, he spied an old man, wearing the insignia of a navy captain, and a woman, who was much too young to be his wife, wearing a pale green dress and a black overcoat, holding the captain’s arm weakly as they stood at the doorway of one of the polished homes. She looked bored. She glanced at her husband as he talked fondly to a man standing inside and let her eyes wander from place to place on the street.

Somehow, they caught each other’s gazes.

The first thing that he noticed was her blue eyes. Then the small smattering of freckles across her face. And her red hair peeking out beneath the bonnet. He felt warm to his soul like he finally belonged somewhere after searching a lifetime. She seemed just as taken with him and their gazes lingered as his carriage continued on its way and until she faded from sight.

… .

Holiday Inn by the Airport Norfolk,Virginia December 13, 1998

3:08 AM.

Scully rubbed her face in a weak effort to erase the fatigue that she had. Her eyes were tired. Her body felt heavy. Everything just felt off. It had ever since that morning in the courtroom. She lay beneath the white, artificial sheets and quilt (only a few steps up from creepy, crappy by the hour motel sheets) and absently clicked the television remote, the changing the flickering screen repeatedly. She heard a quick knock on the door joining her and Mulder’s rooms. He opened it slightly and gave a weak smile. “I thought I heard the TV,” he said softly.

She sighed and cast the remote aside. Sitting up in bed taller, she turned on the nightstand lamp. “No,” she admitted with a shrug. “I tossed and turned a bit. There’s nothing on TV.”

“There never is. Want some company?”

“Do you ever sleep, Mulder?” she teased, patting the bed beside her.

“Once in awhile.”

Her partner shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to examine Scully. “You look…distracted. You okay, Scully?” She shrugged, rolling her neck as she did, hearing a distinct pop. “Oh, I heard that one. Turn around.”

“Mulder,” she admonished. “I’m fine.”

“Just…turn around, Scully,” he instructed with a small smile.

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

She loved his rare shoulder massages. Although she would tell him repeatedly she was okay, he would always ignore her. It was all professionally platonic, of course. Scully turned slightly and rolled her shoulder. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said. He squeezed her shoulders tentatively. God, she was tense. He felt the knotted muscles beneath her silken green pajama set. “I’ve been worried since this morning.”

“How so?” she grunted, instantly straightening her spine, feeling the pressure of Mulder’s thumbs.

“I could say you’re distracted but that is just stating the obvious. Even at the museum today this afternoon, you were distant. Every since Buckley noticed you this morning,” he said thoughtfully. “You weren’t like that during the case.”

“I don’t know,” she confessed absently, sitting up straighter as his hands centered in on her spine. Her back cracked more. “Did you see the way he looked at us? At me?”

“Hm. What about it?”

“I don’t know, Mulder,” she whispered. “He smiled at me. Like, just me. Mulder, it creeped me out.”

He paused. “How so, Scully?”

She shook her hand, unconsciously rubbing her left arm. “Not that bad. I’m fine,” she answered quickly. She felt vulnerable. He already knew where his mind was going towards. “Not Pfaster or the abduction bad. It was probably nothing.”

“Then what?”

She paused, wishing he could hug her in this moment of vulnerability, but of course, she would never admit that out loud. “I didn’t feel like myself,” she replied after a long moment. “Like I was me, and someone else, but at the same time. I don’t know. Maybe I’m losing my mind.”

“Out of place, out of time?”

“Something like that.”

Scully shook her head and her entire body followed, shrugging out of Mulder’s grasp. He hesitated before gently grasping her hand that had been repeatedly trying to console herself. “Easy, Scully. I gotcha.”

She closed her eyes and tried to center herself. “What was it like?” she asked after a long moment. “In Tennessee?”

He was silent, his hand instinctively seeking out the small of her back, his place. He drew in a deep breath. “How else would you explain it?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Try me.”

Scully hugged herself tightly and faced him. Mulder wished that he could just take her in his arms and make all right with the world but simply settled for squeezing her hand again. “I had a strange dream tonight,” she started reluctantly. She pointed towards the floor loosely. “Here. In Norfolk.” She closed her eyes again. “Snow. Cold. Like this morning It needed to snow but hadn’t recently.”

“How do you know it was here?”

Her right hand flung wildly in a circle. “I just…know.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “It wasn’t this time–older. Mulder, I don’t know.” She buried her face in her hands. “This is stupid. Just ignore it.”

He grasped her other hand tightly. “Scully, come on. Stop thinking.”

Her head was spinning. She remembered the gaze from the dream. His gaze. She could not remember his face but she could feel his staring. “Mulder,” she murmured, squeezing his hands. “I think I need a vacation.”

He let out a hoarse laugh. “We both do.”

She brought her knees close, crossing them under her. “Mulder, I’ve never felt like this before. I have never felt so out of time and out of space. This isn’t like the abduction. This isn’t missing time. I feel like I’m experiencing something I forgot long ago. It scares me.”

He pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I know,” he whispered. Was she experiencing a past life? Who knew. But he was curious. “If you want to talk…”

She shrugged noncommittally as his cell phone rang. She raised an eyebrow as he mouthed ‘Sorry.’ “Mulder,” he answered crisply.

While he had freed one hand to answer his cell, his other hand still clasped hers. He was quiet as he finished the call and put it away. There was trouble in his eyes. “That was the sheriff. Buckley mentioned he wanted to talk to Starbuck.” He felt her stiffen. “Then he mentioned your name.”

“Do you think,” she paused. “This could be like Boggs?”

He never let go of her hand. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He looked down at the bed, surprised that she was even entertaining such ideas. “Good thing we have nowhere to be, right?”

#xfiles #xf fic #msr #msr fic #my fic #mulder #scully #false flags redux #there's more too come too #txf #txf fic #i promised myself later this friday #but i can't contain my excitement for this piece #and i've edited like a thousand times #please let me know what you think #it's after midnight anyways

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insurancelifedream · 4 years

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6 Top Risks Of Attending State Farm Monticello | state farm monticello

One of the best things about traveling to Monticello in Indiana is that you can stay at a state Farm Monticello. The beautiful gardens around this wonderful park, and the stately mansions that dot its grounds are stunning. State Farm Monticello has been one of the most important attractions of Indiana since the 19th century.

You may notice that there is more to your lodging than a nice suite in one of the many state owned apartments around Monticello. If you plan to go to Monticello, you can't do it without seeing at least one of the state parks that surround this wonderful land.

The Indiana Botanical Gardens is another great reason why staying at a State Farm Monticello is such a good idea. There are a number of different types of plants and flowers in these gardens, some of which are featured on the state seal. You can enjoy beautiful landscaping, beautiful gardens, and a few gardens with flowers around this amazing land.

If you really want to get away from the rest of the world, you can stay at the Monticello Lodge. This hotel is located close to the center of the town, and the views of the city are absolutely amazing. You will find the accommodations to be a bit more luxurious than most of the other hotels in the area, but the accommodations are still quite reasonable.

Whether you are looking for a place to have a quiet vacation or you are looking for a perfect place for a romantic getaway, you will want to consider staying at a Monticello hotel while you are in the area. You will also find that it is quite a distance from all of the other hotels and resorts in the area.

If you decide to spend time at a hotel while you are visiting Monticello, you should make sure that you book your room well in advance. You will want to make sure that you get your room fully furnished before you leave. You may even find that there are several discount packages available which include your meals and even your laundry done at a professional laundry facility.

When you visit Monticello, you will be amazed at what it has to offer you. You may want to spend the night in a hotel around the area, or you may just want to check out one of the several historic hotels that have been featured in many books written about the area. You may want to check out the Monticello Motel, which was the original residence of the American Secretary of the Treasury, Hamilton Granger.

In addition to being the home of an important official in U.S. history, the Monticello Motel also happens to be one of the oldest motels in the country, as well as being a wonderful place to stay. You can get your laundry done right in the comfort of your hotel room.

If you decide that you are interested in staying at a state farm, you will be glad you took the time to find out about all of the amazing attractions that are located near the area. As you can see, there is no place like a stay at a state farm.

State Farm Insurance Agent Rick Meyer in Monticello IA – state farm monticello | state farm monticello

State Farm Insurance Agent Mike McKennon in Monticello MS – state farm monticello | state farm monticello

State Farm Insurance Agent John Fisher in Monticello GA – state farm monticello | state farm monticello

State Farm Insurance Agent Mark Gray in Monticello AR – state farm monticello | state farm monticello

State Farm Insurance Agent Chris Bryant in Monticello AR – state farm monticello | state farm monticello

State Farm Insurance Agent Jeff Clodfelter in Monticello IL – state farm monticello | state farm monticello

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monticelloinnutah · 2 years

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Things to consider while booking the Motels.

The Monticello Inn is one of the most affordable and perfect places to stay. It is nearby many adorable locations, such as Monument Valley and Mesa Verde. It offers convenience and comfort in every room option. They provide refrigerators, air conditioning, TV, and many such things. If you want to stay in Monticello Inn, search for the Motels near Mesa Verde and get the most affordable luxurious rooms along with many complementary services.

#motels

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calciseptinefic · 7 years

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stay (it doesn’t have to hurt)

Gravity Falls || Stanford Pines/Stanley Pines || Part One notes: Written for Summer of Stancest. All my love to Blue, who organized this event, gave me encouragement, and was over-all an amazing human being. ♥ ¶ also available on AO3 warnings: mentions of blood and poverty as a theme

The motel television has nine channels and, as he has every day since he arrived in New Mexico, Stan spends his day mindlessly switching back and forth between them. Images shift. Noise fluctuates. It helps him ignore the gnaw of hunger in his belly and the squeeze of anxiety around his lungs. There is no remote. Any time a program becomes unbearable, Stan has to get up and manually change the station.

It does little to ease the restlessness in his stagnant bones.

Eventually—when the heat of the day dissipates into evening, and the setting sun illuminates Stan's room in red—Stan gives up the distraction. He switches the television off and plops back down on the sagging edge of his mattress.

Stares at the matted shag carpet.

Runs a hand over his uncombed, sweat-damp hair.

Sighs softly and—

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Stan's head jerks up. His heart begins to race.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Stan can only think of two people who would visit him at this hour. The first is the owner of the motel, a skeletal man with beady eyes and a bald head. The second is Rico, a man from whom Stan unwisely borrowed money.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

In the sinking pit of his stomach, Stan knows it must be Rico. The motel owner already came by that morning, asking after overdue rent and threatening to get the police involved. All Stan had was a wrinkled five dollar bill, which he handed over; the other man sneered at the last of Stan's money and spat tobacco on the concrete near Stan's feet.

"Ain't worth the phone call," he said before he stalked off.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

"Just give me a few more days, Rico!" Stan shouts as he grabs the baseball bat lying next to his bed. He immediately chokes up on the wooden handle, his knuckles white and bloodless. "I'll pay your goons back, I swear!"

Stan has said the same thing for the past three months. He was lucky, last time, to be sent home with nothing more than a pair of black eyes and a five thousand dollar deadline. He knows he won't be shown the same generosity this time around, but if Rico and his lackeys are expecting him to go down without a fight, they are in for a very rude awakening.

A second passes.

Two.

Yet instead of the telltale sound of the door being kicked in, there is the simple, metallic whisper of the mail slot. A single piece of cardstock falls to the floor. It seems innocuous, but Stan has been on the wrong side of business long enough to know that a bullet may follow.

A minute passes.

Two.

With the bat clutched in one hand, Stan gets up and creeps towards the door. He tries to keep his footsteps silent and his breathing even, but his movements seem thunderously loud in the still quiet of the room. Slowly… slowly… slowly he bends, pinches the postcard between his fingers, and—

swiftly and without finesse—

Stan sprints back to the safety of his unmade bed.

When nothing continues to happen, Stan inhales deeply and lets go of the tension in his shoulders. Then he looks at the postcard. The front is a generic picture of a forest, coniferous and verdant, complete with a perfect blue sky and a waterfall. The center of the card is dominated by a bold font that entreats:

VISIT SCENIC GRAVITY FALLS OREGON

Stan raises an eyebrow. He's been to all forty-eight contiguous states, seven Canadian provinces, and every country between Mexico and Columbia, but he's never heard of a place called Gravity Falls. It's probably some small, backwater podunk, he deduces before he flips it over. Who the hell—

PLEASE COME!!!, the postcard reads

- FORD, the postcard is signed.

A storm of emotions travels through Stan at the sight of those three words, hastily written and underscored thrice. Rage is the easiest to recognize because of course Ford contacts him when he's in trouble. It was just like Ford to turn to Stan and expose his vulnerability when the going got tough; Stan could never say no to Ford's big blue eyes—or, in this case, his tremulous scrawl—and Ford knew it. He knew that Stan wouldn't be able to ignore a such a summons. Unconsciously or not, Ford was using the fact of Stan's loyalty to his advantage.

"Fuckin' typical," Stan spits. The postcard strains in his hands and, for a moment, Stan contemplates ripping the damn paper in half.

He doesn't.

Instead, Stan's anger dims, his grip on the postcard loosens, and worry edges in. For such a smart guy, Ford could sometimes be an unbelievable idiot, frequently letting his curiosity overrule his common sense. He was never incompetent nor was he liable to do something he didn't want to, either, so ff he needs help, and is willing to ask Stan after ten years of silence, then he's probably way in over his head.

Goddamn, Stan thinks as he reads the plea again. Ten fuckin' years.

This is sorrow. It is a heavy thing, bone-deep and pervasive, and unlike his other feelings, Stan always carries it with him. Part of it is due to the unexpected turn his life took—Stan never planned on being estranged and homeless—but a majority of it comes from losing the one thing he always thought he'd have.

The other half of him.

His brother.

Ford.

Stan exhales shakily. Rubs the damp off his skin with his callused fingertips. Looks down at the card in his hand for the thousandth time since he picked it up and traces the lines with his eyes.

P-L-E-A-S-E-C-O-M-E-!-!-! -F-O-R-D

The last thing Stan feels that night is resignation.

In the morning twilight, when the desert sky is a wash of pale rose and gray, Stan leaves Dead End Flats with a single suitcase full of clothes and a wooden baseball bat. Dust kicks up behind the wheels of the El Diablo, billowing up behind him like clouds. He grits his teeth at the obviousness.

An hour passes.

Stan drives with his heart in his throat. He constantly checks his rearview mirror to see if he's being followed. He is less concerned about skipping his dues on the motel owner and more concerned about Rico and his network of sour-faced lackeys.

Another hours passes.

The sun rises high enough over the horizon to turn everything yellow and brown.

Three hours later, suburbs begin to bloom in the red sand. Houses spread inward, becoming denser and denser until they rise into the city of Albuquerque. Gaudy skyscrapers made of steel and glass glitter like diamonds amid the tired landscape. Stan would be impressed if he hadn't learned to hate cities after spending a long winter dodging cops in Columbus, Ohio.

Albuquerque fades quickly.

The desert looms.

San Ysidro. La Jara. Counselor. Nageezi. Farmington.

As he nears the border between New Mexico and Arizona, Stan keeps an eye out for a medium-sized town with a gas station slash diner. He finds one right out of Shiprock, pulls in, and fills his tank among a slew of vacationing families and grizzled truckers. He brings his enormous, dog-eared road map into the diner with him, and grins when he's seated at a booth instead of the counter.

"A pot of coffee," he tells his waitress, a woman several years his senior. Her dark hair is pulled into a fraying bun and there is a huge ketchup stain along her sleeve. She keeps glancing at the toddler two booths down, a small monster who is smearing mac-n-cheese across the table. "And the number seven, and a cherry pie milkshake."

When Stan gets his double bacon burger, fries, and shake, he devours it. He hasn't eaten in nearly three days and the uncomfortable bloat of fullness is a welcome change to the scratch of emptiness.

"Check?" the waitress asks when she comes to collect his plate.

"More coffee, please," Stan replies, gesturing to the road map opened in front of him. "Need to decide where to go next."

Her returning nod is harried and her eyes remain on the toddler. The unruly child has recently graduated from wiping his food on the table to throwing handfuls on the floor and giggling.

It doesn't take Stan long to map out the next leg of his journey. The quickest route to Oregon is to take U.S. Route 191 through Utah, but in order reach said route, Stan needs to either continue west into Arizona or head north into Colorado. The problem arises from the fact that Stan has outstanding arrest warrants in both states. The Arizona detour is shorter, but the charges—

Two booths down, the waitress tries to tell the toddler's parents to control their son's behavior. The father does not take this well and begins to shout.

That's my cue, Stan thinks.

And as the rest of the diner turns to watch the waitress and the father get into a screaming match about appropriate child care, Stan drains the last of his coffee, rolls up his travel atlas, and walks out the front door without spending a dime.

Stan heads west into Arizona and spends fifty uncomfortable minutes on Route 64. He passes Teec Nos Pos then turns north at Red Mesa. By the time he crosses the Utah border, he has seen a grand total of seven other cars.

Bluff. Monticello. Moab. Price.

Utah is made of the same red-brown dirt and pale green scrub that is present in New Mexico, and after twelve hours on the road, Stan isn't paying as much attention to the road as he should be. This is why he panics when a mule deer appears suddenly in front of him; he inhales sharply, slams on the breaks, and knocks his nose hard against the leather steering wheel.

"Shit!" Stan curses loudly, clutching his face. Unhurt, the deer prances off. "Shit—fuck—ow, ow, ow!"

Blood leaks warm onto Stan's hand as he pulls over onto the gravel shoulder and parks. He reaches blindly into the back seat, grabs the first thing that feels like a t-shirt, and waits for the bleeding to stop. It takes several minutes. The numbing flush of adrenaline wears off before Stan pulls the worn cotton away.

"Goddamnit," Stan curses when he sees that he managed to grab his last good button down. Blood blooms vivid across a stretch of pale blue, like the desert sun setting west on the winter horizon, and not all of it was captured. Stan's hand is smeared pink and huge drops fell on his t-shirt, where his belly swells fat beneath the fabric. "God fuckin' damn it."

Stan's only stroke of luck is that his nose is not broken. It's tender, so much so that he hisses as he gingerly taps the bridge, but he knows this from vast experience that the bone is intact.

Once Stan cleans as much of his blood up as he can, he gets out of the car and pulls his shirt over his head. It is colder than he expects. The chill hits him hard and his teeth immediately begin to chatter. It's pathetic for a man who was New Jersey born and bred, but Stan has spent the last four years in the deep south and beyond; even in the middle of winter, it was an easy fifty degrees in New Mexico.

Utah is much colder.

Stan quickly stashes his bloodied shirts in the trunk, then grabs his suitcase out of the backseat. There is nothing warm inside. Stan curses as he grabs his least stained article of clothing, a once white shirt that's gray with age and yellow under the pits. It smells like aged leather and stale sweat. Unpleasant. He pulls it over his head. Ignores the stench. Gets back in the El Diablo and cranks up the heat. Stan shivers. It is only going to get colder the further north he goes and he doesn't have a coat, or gloves, or a hat.

Or money.

He looks up at the picture of Ford he keeps above him. Ford smiles so hard it is nearly a grimace and Stan beams. Stan remembers how Ford felt tucked against his side, warm and pliant, both when the picture was taken and later that night when Ford crept into the bottom bunk.

Stan sighs.

"The things I do for you, Sixer," he mutters, and gets back on the road.

Colton. Soldier Summit. Tucker.

Mapleton. Springville.

Provo. Orem. Pleasant Grove.

Salt Lake City.

Stan stops as at every gas station he sees. His tank is running towards low, but he never fuels up. Instead, he scrounges for fallen change: for pennies turned black, for scratched nickels, for thin dimes worn flat, for rare and defaced quarters. He hates the pitying looks he gets when he scavenges and ignores them the best he can, hunched against the deepening cold.

Woods Cross. Bountiful. Centerville.

Another Farmington.

Kaysville. Layton. Clearfield. Roy.

Stan's pockets are full and the El Diablo is empty when he pulls into the parking lot of a darkened thrift store. It's midnight. His eyes itch. He's hungry. He's thirsty. He's cold. He grabs the remaining clothes out of his suitcase and piles them atop his body in an attempt to shield himself from the night. He thinks, This ain't got nothin' on Ohio, and pushes his seat back as far as it will go.

Closes his eyes.

And sleeps fitfully till the morning sun breaks white and weak over the pavement.

Stan has been to hundreds of thrift shops in the past ten years and he has never understood how they can all smell the same. Like a pair of old shoes and an abandoned house and musty clothes, faint and all at once, familiarity edged with disquiet.

He hates it.

Walking through the racks, Stan searches for the heaviest coat he can find. The best options are long gone, however, picked out before winter could reach its brutal peak, and Stan ends up with three hangers. The first is a heavy leather bomber with no visible tears and a soft collar; the second is a wool peacoat that falls to his knees; and the third is a red parka lined with synthetic fur.

Stan tries the peacoat on first. It's a size too small, unable to stretch over his shoulders and the thickness of his waist, and the fabric smells like spoiled milk. Stan wrinkles his nose as he takes it off and puts it back on the hanger. The peacoat is a definite no.

Next, Stan tries on the leather jacket. It fits well. Really well. So well that Stan takes a peek at himself in the dingy mirror at the end of the makeshift aisle. He looks big, yes, but in a good way: brawny instead of fat, rugged instead of homeless, nineteen instead of thirty-one. Unfortunately, Stan's vanity cannot give the leather jacket another layer of needed insulation, nor can it lower the price tag that reflects its good condition. So he sighs, takes it off, and ignores the sting of want.

The last coat is Stan's best option. It's heavy, it has a hood, and there aren't any rips or thin patches of fabric. The zipper pulls up smoothly. Indeed, the only detriments are the motor oil stains on the shoulder, sleeve, and hem, but the faint scent of detergent Stan smells means that the parka was obviously washed before being donated.

Stan hasn't done laundry in months.

Decided, Stan then searches the store for some gloves. He can't find any. Instead, he finds a hat and a matching pair of mittens; all three pieces are dark and smell like damp, but Stan needs them. The El Diablo's heat can be intermittent in the extreme cold—often not working at all—and it hurts Stan's hands to hold a frozen leather steering for long periods of time.

"Better than nothin'," Stan tells himself before he scoops up the hat and mittens and heads up to the front of the store. He goes to the only cashier working, a reedy teenage boy with a thin face, a thin mouth, and a thin mustache. Skinny doesn't greet him, merely begins to punch in the prices after Stan sets his stuff down.

"Seven fifty," he intones when he's finished bundling everything into a plastic shopper.

Stan digs in his pockets. Dumps all his dirty change on the counter. Skinny exhales through his nose in irritation at the small pile, but says nothing as he sorts the coins and adds them to his till: quarters first, then dimes, then nickels, then pennies.

"You owe forty-three cents," Skinny says.

Stan is too tired to argue. Too tired to be sarcastic. He just shrugs and says, "S'all I got, kiddo."

For the first time since Stan walked up, the teenager lifts his gaze from the counter and looks at Stan. Stan has no illusions about what the kid sees. He's a fat, middle-aged man with an uncombed mullet, bags under his eyes, and a gross t-shirt. Skinny probably sees someone like Stan every time he works. Sees the symptoms of poverty—the weary slump, the flat eyes, the resignation—

Skinny closes the drawer and hands Stan his purchases.

"Have a good day," Skinny says.

"Yeah," Stan gruffs. "You too."

Stan dons his new coat in the parking lot. Tosses the hat and mittens onto the passenger seat. Starts the El Diablo and freezes when it takes a moment for the engine to respond. Thanks a god he never believed in when a familiar rumble fills his ears.

"Halfway there," Stan tells the dashboard. "Just one more day."

The fuel gauge sits dangerously low until Stan can find a small, slow gas station at the edge of town. The attendant manning the till inside looks up and waves. Stan returns the gesture with a smile before he fills his tank.

Stan looks up. The attendant waves again. Stan smiles again even as unease begins to prickle beneath his skin. He needs the attendant to be distracted so he can drive away without the police being called or his license plate number being taken down. Thankfully, most people are easily bored, and Stan only needs to spend a few minutes cleaning out his car for the attendant's attention to turn elsewhere.

Ha! Stan crows silently as he slips into his car. Gotcha!

And a minute later, when the attendant looks up from her big book of crosswords, the only thing left outside will be a bin full of garbage.

Willard. Brigham City. Tremonton.

The earth turns tan. Naked aspens and thin pines sprout out of the ground between knee-high shrubs. Little towns with names like Blue Creek and Snowville pop up and disappear faster than Stan can blink.

Less than two hours after Stan has left Ogden, he crosses the border into Idaho.

Juniper. Sublett. Cotterel. Burley.

By the time Stan hits Twin Falls, the temperate drops below freezing.

King Hill. Chalk Cut.

Mountain Home.

Mayfield.

By the time Stan hits Boise, he sees snow for the first time in years. The heat of the desert has softened his remembrance of it, made him forget how deceiving it was, how pervasive. White flakes falls from an unchanging gray sky and build on the black pavement of western-winding interstate. He skids twice on unseen ice and nearly ends up in a ditch before he remembers to mind his lead foot.

Nampa. Caldwell.

Then a green sign says in white: Welcome to Oregon.

Vale.

The towns begin to shrink—the towns begin to s t r e t c h—

Harper.

The towns begin to hide behind the boughs of dense conifers—to peek through the skeletal branches of sleeping deciduous trees—

Juntura.

The towns begin to whisper secrets in the stillness—

WELCOME TO GRAVITY FALLS

part two

#fandom: gravity falls #pairing: stanford pines/stanley pines #rated: e #stancest

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traieg · 5 years

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Maybe on the cheaper side motel, but the views from here are priceless. 😎🥰🤗 (at Monticello, Indiana) https://www.instagram.com/p/B0rW9hZnRrsM-k1qjAWY-Hju1hKVYYGT2ejdxI0/?igshid=wb9dzqraus5g

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breanna-lynn · 7 years

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After travelling for hours & miles, we decided Sunday to stay in a real bed for one night. We just checked out, it was a nice place to rest up. Literally took a 3 hour nap after we stopped. 👍 #Portland #rest #Oregon #Sundays (Sorry I haven't updated the blog, took a hiatus! 🌵) (at Monticello Motel)

#sundays #rest #portland #oregon

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addictionrecoveryassistance · 5 years

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Detox Centers In Northrop Minnesota 56075

Contents

Alcohol rehab centers

Rent payments. resource

Drug testing. 5 panel

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eclipsesstudios · 5 years

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[:pl] Tomasz Czarnecki zaprasza na wspólną eksplorację najpiękniejszych miejsc północno-zachodnich Stanów Zjednoczonych.

W drugiej połowie lipca zapraszamy na dwutygodniową wyprawę, w trakcie której będą mieli Państwo okazję zwiedzić najsłynniejsze parki narodowe USA: Yellowstone National Park, Grand Canyon National Park ale także te kultowe, oraz moje ulubione: Escalante Grand Staircase, Capitol Reef, Arches, Canyonlands i wreszcie Olympic National Park. Podróż zaczniemy jednak w geologicznym sercu Utah – Kanab, skąd wybierzemy się do parków narodowych Bryce i Zion, próbując jednocześnie szczęścia w loterii do Wave. Stąd będziemy zmierzać na północny wschód, by podziwiać skalne łuki, mosty, kaniony, a wreszcie geologicznie bardzo żywą północ – gejzery Yellowstone i wulkany Mt Reinier i górę św. Heleny. Na deser zostawiając sobie najbardziej chyba niezwykły park, w którym rosną największe na świecie sosny i świerki, na którego pływowych plażach można oglądać ukwiały i rozgwiazdy a którego szczyty wieńczą lodowce – Olympic.

Wyprawę można połączyć z USA 2019 południowy zachód – Wyprawa fotograficzna (wówczas trwać będzie 4 tygodnie)

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[tabs][tab title=”W skrócie”]

Termin: 13 lipca – 28 lipca

Koszt:

dla 2 osób – 4 265 USD/os + 1750 USD/os (szacunkowy koszt biletów lotniczych)

dla 3 osób – 2 920 USD/os + 1750 USD/os (szacunkowy koszt biletów lotniczych)

dla 4 osób – 2 800 USD/os + 1750 USD/os (szacunkowy koszt biletów lotniczych)

dla 5 osób – 2 300 USD/os + 1750 USD/os (szacunkowy koszt biletów lotniczych)

Grupa:

od 2 do 5 uczestników, noclegi w motelach i hotelach o standardzie głównie ***, w pokojach 2-osobowych.

Koszt nie obejmuje wyżywienia, pamiątek i napiwków, jak również kosztów uzyskania promesy wizy amerykańskiej (oferuję bezpłatną pomoc przy wypełnianiu dokumentów) ani ubezpieczenia turystycznego. [/tab][tab title=”Mapa trasy”]

[/tab][tab title=”Program”] termin: 13 lipca – 28 lipca

w nawiasach kolejny dzień dla tych, którzy postanowili wyruszyć na łączną 4-tygodniową trasę.

1 (15) dzień

Przelot z Warszawy do Las Vegas. Przejazd do Kanab, nocleg w Kokopelli Cottage.

2 (16) dzień

Spróbujemy ponownie wylosować wejście do Wave. Dzień na spotkanie z największym kanionem na Ziemi. Ruszamy na północną krawędź Wielkiego Kanionu Kolorado, gdzie możemy wybrać się na spacer na punk widokowy Angel Point, na zachód słońca pojedziemy na płaskowyż Valhalla. Nocleg w Kanab w Kokopelli Cottage.

3 (17) dzień

Jeżeli dnia poprzedniego wylosujemy wejście do The Wave – to ten dzień poświęcimy temu niezwykłemu miejscu, które jest jedyne w swoim rodzaju, jeżeli nie podejmiemy kolejną próbę wylosowania wejścia do słynnego The Wave. Wyjazd do Zion National Park. Ważne miejsca – trekking po Narrows, fotografowanie Checkerboard Mesa, widok na dolinę Zion. Osoby, które kontynuują wyprawę z pierwszej połowy lipca w tym czasie pojadą ze mną do kanionu Kolob, gdzie będziemy poznawać inne oblicza parku Zion. Nocleg w Kokopelli Cottage.

4 (18) dzień

Jeżeli dnia poprzedniego wylosujemy wejście do The Wave – to ten dzień poświęcimy temu niezwykłemu miejscu, które jest jedyne w swoim rodzaju. Jeżeli nie wylosujemy to wyruszymy do Parku narodowego Bryce Canyon, gdzie wybierzemy trekking po jednej z wielu tras wśród skalnych iglic – hoodoos. Następnie ruszamy w dalszą drogę do Escalante, gdzie kolejne dwie noce odpoczniemy w Wild West Retreat *****.

5 (19) dzień

Dzień na eksplorację Escalante Grand Staircase National Monument i kanionów szczelinowych wzdłuż Harris Wash, dokąd dotrzemy szutrową drogą Hole in the Rock Trail, którą dawno temu podążali pierwsi osadnicy w Utah. W zależności od warunków pogodowych i wodnych spróbujemy zajrzeć do kanionu Zebra Slot, Peek-a-boo slot lub innych (po konsultacjach z rangerami)l oraz do ogrodu diabła. Na noc wracamy do Escalante do w Wild West Retreat *****.

6 (20) dzień

Po wczesnej pobudce wyruszamy w kolejny niezwykle intensywny dzień – zaczynając od widokowej 12-ki, uważanej za najpiękniejszą drogę w USA, potem odbijemy do mało znanego kanionu Red Canyon. Następnie w zależności od czasu i odwagi możemy albo wjechać do parku narodowego Capitol Reef żwirową drogą Bullfrog Trail pokonując serpentyny Corkscrew, albo w Capitol Reef ruszyć do doliny świątyń. Znów, zależnie od tego jak bardzo będzie się nam podobało po drodze, i ile czasu poświęcimy na zdjęcia dalszy plan może objąć dolinę goblinów – Goblin Valley State Park i/ lub Natural Bridges National Monument. Kolejne dwie noce spędzimy w Monticello w Blue Mountain Horsehead Inn**.

7 (21) dzień

Z Monticello pojedziemy do Dead Horse Point State Park a następnie do Canyonlands National Park gdzie możemy podziwiać jeszcze rozleglejsze widoki niż nad kanionem Kolorado. Następnie rzucimy wyzwanie trasie Shaffer Trail wiodącej z krawędzi podniebnej wyspy Island in the Sky na płaskowyż, którego krawędzią wije się White Rim Trail. Jeżeli czas pozwoli spróbujemy dotrzeć do rzeki Kolorado. Następnie kierujemy się poprzez jeziora potasowe do Monticello do Blue Mountain Horsehead Inn**. Po drodze, wieczorem, może zdążymy jeszcze zajrzeć do Newspaper Rock State Historic Monument, gdzie znajduje się jedna z największych kolekcji petroglyfów – naskalnych rytów Indian stworzonych przez ludzi kultur prehistorycznych, Anasazi, Fremont i Navajo na przestrzeni 2000 lat.

8 (22) dzień

Rano wyruszymy do Parku Narodowego Arches, gdzie zaczniemy dzień od trekkingu po ogrodach Diabła do najdłuższego łuku sklanego na świecie – Landscape Arch. W czasie największego upału wrócimy do Moab, klimatycznego miasta u wrót parku. Po obiedzie w knajpce, gdzie można skosztować burgerów z mięsem bizona resztę dnia spędzimy w Arches podziwiając niezwykłe łuki i inne formy skalne –Park Avenue, Balanced Rock, Delicate Arch i Windows Section. Później ruszamy na północ do Fruita gdzie nocujemy w La Quinta Inn & Suites***.

9 (23) dzień

W drodzę na północ w kierunku Yellowstone będziemy podziwiać piękne jezioro za zaporą Flaming Gorge z krążącymi nad głową sępami i orłami, a także zatrzymamy się by zwiedzić Dinosaur National Monument, gdzie można dotknąć prawdziwych kości dinozaurów. Późnym wieczorem docieramy do Green River, gdzie na noc zatrzymamy się w Travelodge by Wydham ***.

10 (24) dzień

Z Green River dojedziemy do Jackson Hole, klimatycznego miasteczka u stóp Grand Teton National Park. Ten park podziwiać będziemy z kilku punktów widokowych bowiem naszym głównym celem jest Yellowstone National Park. Zaczniemy od zespolu gejzerów West Thumb Basin nad jeziorem Yellowstone. Następnie zatrzymamy się na spacer między gejzerami Upper i Biscuit geyser basin, ze słynnym gejzerem Old Faithful i wieloma innymi, nastepnie Midway Geyser Basin – w którym znajduje się niezwykłe żródło Grand Prismatic Spring. W dalszej drodze zajrzymy do Lower Geyser Basin i postaramy się trafić na zachód słońca na Firehole Lake Drive. Na noc zmierzamy do Gardiner na północnej krawędzi Yellowstone gdzie czeka na nas Absaroka Lodge***.

11 (25) dzień

Po śniadaniu wracamy zaczynając dzień od zwiedzania gorących źródeł Mammoth Springs na północy Yellowstone National Park. Następnie dotrzemy do basenu geotermalnego Norris, po drodze zatrzymamy się koło wodospadu Yellowstone Falls. Pojedziemuy także poszukać bizonów, wilków i niedźwiedzi w dolinie Hayden. Nocleg w Absaroka Lodge*** w Gardiner.

12 (26) dzień

Długi dzień w drodze, bo mamy do pokonania trasę z Gardiner do Missoula, gdzie zatrzymamy się w Brook St Motor Inn ***. W drodze wstąpimy do Bute, miasta, które pod koniec XIX w. dzięki wydobyciu miedzi i innych metali stało się na pewien czas najbogatszym miastem w USA .

13 (27) dzień

Ciąg dalszy w drodze, tym razem miniemy podnóża potężnego wulkanu Mt Reinier National Park, a jeżeli nic nam nie przeszkodzi w drodze, późnym popołudniem dotrzemy do wulkanu św. Heleny. Nocleg w DuPont w FairBridge Inn & Suites***.

14 (28) dzień

Dzień spędzimy na poznawaniu rozmaitych obliczy parku Olympic National Park – od potężnych drzew i niesamowitego lasu deszczowego Hoh Valley, po pływowe wybrzeża z ukwiałami i rozgwiazdami kryjącymi się wśród niesamowitych skał. Nocleg w słynnym z serialu Zmierzch miasteczku Forks w sercu półwyspu Olimpijskiego w Pacific Inn Motel***.

15 (29) dzień

Przejazd do Seattle skąd odlatujemy do Polski. Zależnie od połączeń, przylot do Warszawy najpewniej następnego dnia.

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Uwaga! Ekspedycja nie jest imprezą turystyczną, a zaproszeniem na wspólną fotograficzną przygodę Tomaszem Czarneckim, fotografikiem, globtroterem i człowiekiem, który od ponad 20 lat eksploruje USA.

[:en]

Tomasz Czarnecki cordially invites You to a joinhim on exploration of the most beautiful places of the north western United States.

In the second half of July, I invite you tojoin me for a two-week trip, during which you will have the opportunity to visit not only the most famous US national parks: Yellowstone National Park and Grand Canyon National Park but also the iconic and my favorite: Escalante Grand Staircase, Capitol Reef, Arches, Canyonlands and finally, the Olympic National Park. We will start the journey in the geological heart of Utah – Kanab, from where we will visit the national parks of Bryce and Zion, while trying our luck in the lottery to enter famous Wave. From here, we will head northeast to admire rock arches, bridges, canyons, and finally a geologically very lively north – Yellowstone geysers as well as volcanoes of Mt Reinier and Mt. Helens. For dessert, leaving probably the most unusual park where in rainforest valley grows the world’s largest pine and spruce, where tidal beaches you can watch sea anemones and starfish and whose peaks crown the Olympic glaciers.

The expedition can be combined with US 2019 Southwest- Photographic expedition.

[su_button url=”http://eclipses.eu/event-registration/?ee=26″ target=”self” style=”default” background=”#2D89EF” color=”#FFFFFF” size=”3″ wide=”no” center=”no” radius=”auto” icon=”” icon_color=”#FFFFFF” text_shadow=”none” desc=”” onclick=”” rel=”” title=”” id=”” class=””]Dołącz do ekspedycji[/su_button]

[:de]

Tomasz Czarnecki lädt Sie herzlich zu einer gemeinsamen Erkundung der schönsten Orte des Nordwestens der Vereinigten Staaten ein.

In der zweiten Julihälfte lade ich Sie zu einer zweiwöchigen Reise ein, bei der Sie nicht nur die berühmtesten US-Nationalparks besuchen können: den Yellowstone-Nationalpark und den Grand-Canyon-Nationalpark, aber auch den ikonischen Nationalpark Mein Favorit: Escalante Grand Staircase, Capitol Reef, Arches, Canyonlands und schließlich der Olympic National Park. Wir beginnen die Reise im geologischen Herzen von Utah – Kanab, von wo aus wir die Nationalparks von Bryce und Zion besuchen werden, während wir unser Glück in der Lotterie versuchen, um in die berühmte Welle zu gelangen. Von hier aus fahren wir nach Nordosten, um Felsbögen, Brücken, Schluchten und schließlich einen geologisch sehr lebhaften Norden zu sehen – Yellowstone-Geysire sowie Vulkane des Reinier und des Mount Reinier. Helens Zum Nachtisch verlassen Sie den wahrscheinlich ungewöhnlichsten Park, in dem im Regenwaldtal die größte Kiefer und Fichte der Welt wächst, wo Sie Gezeitenstrände sehen können, an denen Sie Anemonen und Seesterne beobachten können und deren Gipfel die olympischen Gletscher krönen.

Die Expedition kann mit der US 2019 Southwest Photographic Expedition kombiniert werden.

[:it]

Tomasz Czarnecki ti invita cordialmente a unirsi per esplorare i luoghi più belli del nord-ovest degli Stati Uniti.

Nella seconda metà di luglio, vi invito a unirvi a me per un viaggio di due settimane, durante il quale avrete l’opportunità di visitare non solo i parchi nazionali degli Stati Uniti più famosi: il Parco Nazionale di Yellowstone e il Parco Nazionale del Grand Canyon, ma anche l’iconico e il mio preferito: Escalante Grand Staircase, Capitol Reef, Arches, Canyonlands e, infine, il Parco Nazionale Olimpico. Inizieremo il viaggio nel cuore geologico dello Utah – Kanab, da dove visiteremo i parchi nazionali di Bryce e Zion, mentre tentiamo la fortuna nella lotteria per entrare nella famosa onda. Da qui, ci dirigeremo a nord-est per ammirare archi di roccia, ponti, canyon e, infine, geyser geograficamente molto vivaci del Nord – Yellowstone così come i vulcani del Monte Reinier e del Monte. Helens. Per dessert, lasciando probabilmente il parco più insolito dove nella valle della foresta pluviale cresce il più grande pino e abete rosso del mondo, dove le spiagge di marea si possono osservare anemoni di mare e stelle marine e le cui vette incoronano i ghiacciai olimpici.

La spedizione può essere combinata con US 2019 Southwest- Photographic expedition.

[:es]

Tomasz Czarnecki lo invita cordialmente a unírsele en la exploración de los lugares más bellos del noroeste de los Estados Unidos.

En la segunda quincena de julio, lo invito a unirse a mí para un viaje de dos semanas, durante el cual tendrá la oportunidad de visitar no solo los parques nacionales más famosos de EE. UU.: El Parque Nacional de Yellowstone y el Parque Nacional del Gran Cañón, sino también el icónico y Mi favorito: Escalante Grand Staircase, Capitol Reef, Arches, Canyonlands y, por último, el Parque Nacional Olympic. Comenzaremos el viaje en el corazón geológico de Utah, Kanab, desde donde visitaremos los parques nacionales de Bryce y Zion, mientras intentamos nuestra suerte en la lotería para ingresar a la famosa Ola. Desde aquí, nos dirigiremos hacia el noreste para admirar arcos rocosos, puentes, cañones y, finalmente, un norte geológicamente muy animado: los géiseres de Yellowstone, así como los volcanes de Mt Reinier y Mt. Helens. Para el postre, es probable que deje el parque más inusual en el valle de la selva tropical donde se encuentran los pinos y abetos más grandes del mundo, donde las playas de mareas pueden ver anémonas de mar y estrellas de mar y cuyos picos coronan los glaciares olímpicos.

La expedición se puede combinar con la expedición fotográfica del Suroeste de EE. UU. US 2019.

[:fr] Tomasz Czarnecki zaprasza na wspólną eksplorację najpiękniejszych i najdzikszych miejsc w północno-zachodnich Stanach Zjednoczonych Ameryki. Od dwudziestu lat eksploruję te rejony fotograficznie i nadal nie mam dosyć. Jeżeli chcesz przeżyć wyjątkową przygodę, wędrować po dzikich pustyniach, przeciskać się wąskimi szczelinami i stanąć oko w oko z geologicznymi cudami Ziemi, dołącz do mnie.

Wyprawę można połączyć z wyprawą “Dziki Zachód – USA 2020 południowy zachód – Wyprawa fotograficzna” (wówczas trwać będzie 4 tygodnie)

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Termin: 17 lipca 2020 – 31 lipca 2020

Koszt:

dla 2 osób – 4 600 USD/os + (1750 USD/os szacunkowy koszt biletów lotniczych)

dla 3 osób – 4 300 USD/os + (1750 USD/os szacunkowy koszt biletów lotniczych)

dla 4 osób – 3 100 USD/os + (1750 USD/os szacunkowy koszt biletów lotniczych)

dla 5 osób – 2 500 USD/os + (1750 USD/os szacunkowy koszt biletów lotniczych)

Grupa:

od 2 do 5 uczestników, noclegi w motelach i hotelach o standardzie głównie ***, w pokojach 2-osobowych.

Koszty wyprawy pokrywają koszty wszystkich noclegów na trasie w wysokim 4* standardzie (o ile to tylko możliwe w danym miejscu), koszty wstępu do Parków Narodowych i Stanowych, jak również atrakcje w trakcie wspólnej wyprawy. Także koszt wynajęcia i ubezpieczenia samochodu 4WD dostosowanego rozmiarem do wielkości grupy oraz paliwa. Uwaga: nie jesteśmy biurem turystycznym, bilety lotnicze i noclegi rezerwujemy wspólnie przed wyjazdem, tak by na miejscu mieć wszystko dograne z góry.

[/tab][tab title=”Program”] 17 lipca 2020 – 31 lipca 2020

1 (15) dzień

Przelot z Warszawy do Las Vegas. Przejazd do Kanab, nocleg w Kokopelli Cottage.

2 (16) dzień

3 (17) dzień

4 (18) dzień

5 (19) dzień

6 (20) dzień

7 (21) dzień

8 (22) dzień

9 (23) dzień

10 (24) dzień

11 (25) dzień

12 (26) dzień

13 (27) dzień

14 (28) dzień

15 (29) dzień

Przejazd do Seattle skąd odlatujemy do Polski. Zależnie od połączeń, przylot do Warszawy najpewniej następnego dnia.

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Uwaga! Ekspedycja nie jest imprezą turystyczną, a zaproszeniem na wspólną fotograficzną przygodę z Tomaszem Czarneckim, fotografikiem, globtroterem i człowiekiem, który od ponad 20 lat eksploruje USA.

[:]

[:pl]USA 2019 północny zachód – Wyprawa fotograficzna[:en]Photoexpedition – USA 2019 Northwest [:de]Foto Expedition Nordwest Westlichen Vereinigten Staaten 2019[:it]Photo Expedition Western Stati Uniti Nord Ovest 2019[:es]Photo Expedition Western Estados Unidos Noroeste 2019[:fr]Dziki Zachód – USA 2020 północny zachód – Wyprawa fotograficzna[:] [:pl] Tomasz Czarnecki zaprasza na wspólną eksplorację najpiękniejszych miejsc północno-zachodnich Stanów Zjednoczonych. W drugiej połowie lipca zapraszamy na dwutygodniową wyprawę, w trakcie której będą mieli Państwo okazję zwiedzić najsłynniejsze parki narodowe USA: Yellowstone National Park, Grand Canyon National Park ale także te kultowe, oraz moje ulubione: Escalante Grand Staircase, Capitol Reef, Arches, Canyonlands i wreszcie Olympic National Park.

0 notes

astridstorm · 5 years

Text

Daughters of Abraham, Stand

Wow, it’s strange to be up in the pulpit after 4 weeks! But it’s good to be back -- good to see all of you. Thank you for your hospitality to my colleagues who covered for me while I was away; they really enjoyed their time with you. I want to point out that my sermon today will be quite a bit shorter than what you’ve been used to of late (so I understand). Hope that’s OK :)

We (my family and I) were on a road trip; all together we drove 4,700 miles in our blue van. Some of you doubted we could do it, but we did. Our destination was Colorado, where we stayed for a week, but we were very leisurely about getting there and coming back.

Last summer we were in Italy and saw a lot of churches, but this summer we saw spiritual sites of another sort. And in America there are a LOT of them. We saw the balcony where Martin Luther King was shot, at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis. (Of course we also saw Graceland in Memphis, which some of you may count as a spiritual place of a sort. Sun Studios, definitely.) We visited the memorial at the site of the Murrah Building in Oklahoma City; we happened to be passing through there right after the shootings in Dayton and El Paso, so that was poignant. We visited Monticello in Virginia, to see of course the beautiful home Jefferson designed and built. But we also went there to see the newly opened exhibits featuring the slave quarters, including the home of Sally Hemmings, the mother of five of Jefferson’s children.

That was our last stop, and it felt like coming full circle because our first stop was in Chambersburg Pennsylvania, where we visited the home of abolitionist John Brown -- and also the place on the outskirts of town where, with Frederick Douglass, he discussed plans for his raid on Harper’s Ferry (one of the key events leading up to the Civil War. I just learned, on this visit, that both of them were disguised as fishermen during those conversations. I had always wondered how two men as famous and distinctive-looking as they both were could meet, outdoors, for three days of intense debate and go unnoticed. Now I know.)

None of these stops were planned ahead. We just stumbled on them as we went. A reminder of how incredibly rich this country is -- rich in sin, and rich in promise. But again, good to be back with all of you.

Tomorrow, August 26, is, in the United States, Women’s Equality Day, which was established in 1973 to celebrate the ratification of the 19th amendment granting women the right to vote. Next year, 2020, is the 100th anniversary of that event, so I’m guessing we’ll hear a lot more about it then. But I mention this today, this year, because our Gospel reading reminded me of it.

This reading is from Luke, which of the four Gospels tends to have the most inclusive view of women. Jesus is preaching in the synagogue on the Sabbath day when a woman, bent over and unable to stand upright for 18 years, walks in. He sees her, and calls to her; in fact, a little later on he’ll call her a “Daughter of Abraham,” the only use of that honorific in the Bible. “Sons of Abraham” there are plenty of, but never once does anyone, except here, call a woman a “Daughter of Abraham.” That alone would make this a meaningful reading for the celebration of women’s suffrage.

But there’s more. He lays his hands on her and immediately she stands up straight. Controversy ensues about whether this healing was lawful on the Sabbath or not; we see this debate elsewhere in the Gospels, as when Jesus heals the man with a withered hand. There, too, some of the religious leaders object and make a commotion, and Jesus defends his action saying “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” About a year ago at an interfaith discussion held in someone’s home in White Plains (this was mostly lay people) I remember being apologetic about how critical our Gospels are of first century Jewish practices. To which a woman there (a Jewish woman) quickly shot back, “Well, it’s not as if we aren’t critical of Jewish practices back then, too.” Maybe less so in Scarsdale, but many Christians have this frozen-in-time snapshot of what it means to be Jewish, based on our Gospels. I’m quite sure Jews both then and today would be critical of that religious leader who scolded Jesus for doing this act of mercy on the Sabbath.

But it’s not the Sabbath debate that stands out to me today in this reading; it’s this woman, stooped, unable to look up or forward until one day, miraculously, Jesus helps her stand fully upright, eye to eye with those around her. She could be a stand-in for the women in those early years of women’s suffrage, weighed down and wearied by the seeming impossible task of being recognized as full citizens having every right as their male counterparts. She could stand for the women in the MeToo movement who for many years kept their secrets but then one day were empowered to stand up, and speak out. She could stand for the women of Afghanistan (and so many other places around the world) fighting for peace, for better schooling, for more representation in their government. She could stand for the women traveling to our border, victims of unrelenting crime and violence in their homelands, unwilling for their families to endure such suffering any longer and looking for a place where they can stand tall, and unafraid.

This woman, our reading for today tells us, was “crippled by a spirit.” Some translations say “crippled in spirit.” (I guess the Greek is unclear.) Both ways, it works. Either she was crippled by the evil spirit of misogyny, arrogance, being ignored, the evil spirit of those who silence and demean others whom they regard as weaker, lesser. OR she was crippled in spirit from having to put up with it for too long and just being tired, stooped from the weight of it all.

Until Jesus says Enough. And raises her up. And speaking (as Jesus uniquely does) both for God and as a man, calls her, on behalf of all women both then and now, what she deserves to be called: Daughter of Abraham.

Amen.

0 notes

athousandfootsteps · 5 years

Text

9th July 2019

This is my third week at camp with the kids here. I'm in bunk 6A. And I'm with six sophomore girls who are aged 10-11 years old. There is a life guard in my bunk as well as a general counsellor and a CA (counsellor assistant - sort of like a counsellor in training). The girls are generally pretty well behaved and I don't have too much trouble with them. Teaching radio has been chaotic. The first week and a bit was so disorganised and crazy as I was trying to work out how to run radio, and as I'm running it by myself I didn't really know what to do and was not very confident. But then I spoke with my department heads and now I've been feeling better about it and radio is running more smoothly.

Camp life is tough. We get up at 7.30am and have breakfast at 8am. First period is at 9.15am and we don't finish activities until 9.45pm. We get a little bit of free time during the day if we are not on OD. If we are on OD then we get pretty much no free time.

OD means "on duty", it means that during free play after dinner you are responsible for looking after children and at night time you have to get the girls to bed and sleep, which is often very challenging. Meals are a nightmare. They are served by waitresses (campers aged 15-16), and the meals are generally very bland. The children only want to eat plain pasta, so we have to line up at the pasta bar for 20-30 minutes to get plates of plain pasta for the girls to eat. There is also a salad bar and a juice bar. My daily meals consist of: Breakfast- Frosted Flakes, Cocoa Krispies and Trix. + fruit punch and lemonade. Snack - Peach Lunch - Salad + shit ton of beetroot and quinoa salad. and also fruit punch and lemonade. Snack - Peach Dinner - Salad + shit ton of beetroot and quinoa salad. and also fruit punch and lemonade. I also get served tofu or some gluten free vegan meal by the waitress.

I have eaten so much quinoa in the last month, I've made up for a lifetime. The rule is at meal times that we cannot clear the table until everyone has eaten, and because it takes ages in the pasta bar, or for my special meal to come out, I am often being guilt tripped into scoffing food down or feel bad for eating because everyone else has eaten and wants to leave. It really sucks, meal times gives me anxiety.

Some nights we have off, where we usually go to Walmart or just hang out in the staff lounge with our friends. They are usually fun, but we only get 3 hours off from 9.45pm-12.45am. So it isn't really much time to do anything. If we miss our curfew of 12.45am, we get an extra OD, if we miss our curfew twice, we lose a day off and if we miss it three times, we get fired.

Sometimes people are at camp, and they fall asleep in their bunk and miss curfew and have an extra OD, even though they're at camp. Or sometimes people just forget, and so they get penalised.

The days off are the best. We go out to a motel in Monticello and just drink and go to the pub. It's a lot of fun. Then the next day we have gone to the mall or to the lake and then we have gone out for dinner. But it's not even a whole weekend off, it's like 24 hours.

The camp directors say that we should spend our one day off a week sleeping. They expect us to be robots. Obviously people aren't going to spend their day off just sleeping in bed. We are worked to death for six days straight, we actually want to go out and have some fun and spend some time with the friends we've made.

Working six days straight is physically and mentally exhausting, and the camp directors wonder why everyone is so burnt out.

Here are some positives about camp: I only have 4 1/2 weeks to go!! I have made lots of great friends who I love spending my day off with. I enjoy the lemonade. Sometimes the kids are okay and make me laugh. I have been able to try new things like horse riding and theatre.

I auditioned for the theatre production Mamma Mia and I made the ensemble, which was all I really wanted anyway. So we will be rehearsing and eventually put on the production. A few of my friends are in it too, which will be fun. I love ABBA and I love singing so I'm excited for it.

When we're on night OD, we have to get the girls to bed which can sometimes take effort because the girls just come from canteen, where they eat and drink sugar and then we have to get them to bed. They also complain about having to go to bed and ask if they can have "sleepovers", which means sleeping in each others beds. Which I always say no to because I don't want them staying up all night and actually want to sleep. Us counsellors are allowed to use our iPods and computers while we are on OD, or at night time after the girls are asleep. So I can message home a lot more than I expected that I would be able to because there is wifi available during those times too. During the day there is almost no time to get your phone which is locked up in a lock box. When we are on OD, we can only go to sleep once a group leader tells us we can after all the girls go to sleep. So when we are tired, we have to stay up late and wait for the girls to fall asleep. Luckily once we get them in bed and turn the lights off, they do go to sleep pretty quickly without much hassle.

Counsellors phones are locked up in a lock box and we are only allowed to use it during our time off and only in designated areas. So no phones are allowed in bunks at all. We can only use our phones at the admin building, staff lounge or Slake HQ. The wifi is pretty shit and always drops in and out. On periods off and nights off, you always see a whole flock of staff trying to get their phones out of the lock boxes and all sitting around the admin and staff lounge on their phones.

Another thing that's a downer is that I am at one camp, and a lot of my friends are at Slake, but because the two camps don't intermingle very often, I barely get to see all the friends I made during orientation until the weekend, or if we have the same night off. Slake and Chip are owned by the same people but Slake has two sessions, one 4 week and one 3 week and Chip has just one straight 7 week session.

I am currently waiting to be told that I can go to sleep from OD. Three of my six girls were at a dance competition and they got back a little later, but they went to bed pretty quickly. So hopefully I'll be told I can go to sleep soon too.

The last few days I've only had 2-3 classes a day because there's been so many camp activities that kids have been in like dance, theatre, circus, MTV night, etc etc. When there's no children sign up for my activity I get to be a general and take children to an activity. It kinda sucks when I have to go to a water activity because then I have to change into my bathers and head down to the waterfront or pool, and I never really feel like getting into the water. But I've gone skating before and I've learned how to ride a skateboard, and today I went to yoga which is fun.

I just have to stick out 4 1/2 more weeks of camp and then I'll be solo travelling across the country which is super exciting.

On Friday I am going to NYC with my friends on my day off. I cannot wait, we will probably explore the city and then go to a bar before heading back to camp. :))

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