We wish you well

I'm really fat right now. It's something I don't like to discuss. Giant. My hair is really big too. That part, I love. My hair has always been straight as a rail. Now, it is fluff king. My hairdresser flat irons it, to be fashionable. I hate it. I run straight to the shower, and let it fluff up it's to its full madness again. It has curls, waves. Cascading red craziness. It feels nice. I touch it and twist it and push it up and it only gets grander. Day two is the best. Day two after washing. Lionesca.

I went back to work. I am sorry, let me rephrase myself. I WENT BACK TO PINCHE WORK. We began three days before traditional pre-planning begins, which meant we started in the end of July. Let me rephrase myself. HIJO DE LA GRAN PUTA, JULY. JULY. I know it is only a three day difference, but starting before August fucks with my head. It does. We had to go to a retreat. At a 4-H camp in eastern Georgia. Let me rephrase. A 4-H CAMP. EASTERN GEORGIA. This wasn't some fancy thing that made you at least grateful that you got to go to a nice hotel. We are talking bunk beds, cinder block buildings. I struggled.

Two days after returning from Nicaragua, I actually managed to get up on time and head to my car, Google map in hand. I am not so hot at directions outside of the city. I drove. And I drove. I missed a little "highway" and had to turn around and catch it. Finally, I was on the road where I was to make my last right hand turn. I drove. I kept driving. What the fuck?! I started saying out loud. What THE FUCK?! The map was wrong. I was late. It was snowballing. Not five minutes late, not ten minutes late. Pushing thirty. I tried to call the camp, and the last bar on my phone died as the lady told me directions that were completely contrary to my map. I followed them anyway and was stunned when I saw the place. I drove way too fast through the little roads and got to the meeting building and entered. I was forty-five minutes late. Everyone was seated and in full discourse. Way starting the year on a positive note, I thought.

After the initial discomfort, I settled in. I was shocked at how much fun it was to speak to my co-workers and even more, to get drunk with them in the evening. Really drunk. Rampaging, hiking river trails without flashlights, bonding drunk. Screaming drunk.

The retreat was fun. I just hope that the school year will be fun. I will be returning to my Spanish island and oh so much can go wrong. So very much. People that are fantastic at a party are not always fantastic at school. I am crossing my fingers. I want it to go well.

I wish myself well.