veni, vidi, vici

the last eight days were fantastic, gallivanting around cambodia with my favorites paige and michael (and topher, as always.)



there is so much to capture about this summer on this little blog, from the awesome beginning with a successful camp for girls, to my parents visit, to now, wrapping up the hazy days with our trip with paige and michael and the weeks spent working to help train the new teacher volunteers.

for now, suffice it to say that, cambodia has been seen, if not conquered.

also, i successfully gave up caffeine for fifteen days this month.  after five straight days of headaches, i realized-

it was probably a good thing i went without for a little while.

how was your week?

today!

 

today, this girl flies into the kingdom of wonder.

(that girl up there in the rodeo barrel with me.)

today, this girl is reunited with me, her bosom buddy, her friend soulmate, her we're-so-alike-sometimes-it's-a-bad-thing darling.

today, topher and i begin a very happy and very anticipated week of annual leave to show off our new home to a very wonderful pair of friends...

welcome, paige and michael! 

*not today you will someday hear of all the grand adventures this summer with my parents and my favorites paige and michael. not today, but soon.

**also, i'm aware that i look like i'm wearing nothing under that red hoodie up there. but it was a beige tank top? and it was, frankly, a bad decision.

a series of recent events.

i decorated my camelbak with fun stickers of animals! there's even a cute little owl and donkey.

i cleaned all the things! the whole house! all the laundry! i even organized our clothes.

i got a new purse made out of a fish feed bag from vietnam. it's yellow, so i pretty much love it.

i found the world's tiniest deodorant and jill, resident model, helped out.

chris and jill khmer-biked it, with chris carrying my purse.

chris and i've done a lot of eating at the manmade-reservior-side lately, enjoying corn on the cob, fruit smoothies and meat on a stick.

while we eat, we get to listen to macarena on repeat blasting from the nearby "fun park."

i knit while chris picks up our food.

we even had an indoor picnic recently.

what more could a girl ask for in life?

really, really important things that are now true.

over one year in cambodia and my talents have been developed in a variety of many important and serious ways.  

as in,

i can now bike successfully just using my right hand, whereas previously only my left hand could be utilized thus so.

i can now dismount my bike as it continues to roll forward, simultaneously braking to stop and removing my helmet in one smooth motion.

i can now tune my dreams to play against the backdrop of funeral and wedding music.

i can now tell you the precise moment during any given adventure that i have begun sweating.

i can now consider, without laughing or gagging, the thought of getting frisky with topher whilst sweating.

i can now pick out random words being spoken about me in a different language, even when i wish i couldn't.

i have now mastered the art of "listening" to my ipod when i really just have my earphones in my ears.

i can now use a toothpick "politely", behind my hand, after every single meal or like a "gangster," all hanging out of my mouth, dangling on my lips.

i can now throw trash, bones and unsavory food bits on the floor during a meal without even looking for a rubbish can.

i can now call trash "rubbish" without laughing.

i can now withstand being hot and hungry five minutes further than my previous record of thirty seconds.

i can now accurately predict if i will have a bowel movement because of a meal as said meal is set directly in front of me.

i can now write blog posts about diarrhea without concern of my interweb friends disowning me, as i now have zero amounts of propriety remaining herein.

and you?

dear growed-up me,

i have this terrible habit of wishing time to go faster, faster, faster.  of counting down, counting toward, counting away from something.

adult me, i took today to pause and write down all those things that i never want to wish away, those things that i'd bet for you, in the future, you're wishing you still had, you're wishing you could still know, now that you don't live in cambodia any longer.

because it was the same when i studied and lived in rome. rarely was i able to suspend the daily to appreciate the manna that is italy. that is cobblestone, that is early morning walks on those worn, wobbly stones, that is a piping hot, frothy cafe latte, that is a quick italian verb review while perched on a centuries-old curb, vespas and peugeots whizzing by, whipping my hair.  never would i have believed that soon, not but a few months later, i would ache in my stomach, in my limbs, in my soul, for the stench of rome.  of coffee beans, of piles of rubbish on street corners, of sizzling mozzarella and fresh basil, of rain pounding ruins older than God.

here and now, i want to remember. for you, for growed-up me, for a woman that i long to believe has moved past wishing for a future.

remember the grin that lights upon a face when you decide to smile at the stare, rather than scowl.

remember the rank corner of the market, flies glancing to and fro off the raw meat, vendors lazily waving a fan back and forth, to discourage the landing of their tiny feet, to encourage the buyers, hurriedly searching for the best cut, to take home and fry, sizzle, up for their family.

remember the sweet sound of rain, the release of the heat it brings, and the sigh of relief that accompanies it, from you and everyone around you.

remember the melting away of hours as you languidly read a book in the solid wooden chair with the red, polyester cushion that your host mother gave you after she saw your husband crouched in that same chair, mattress wrapped about him like a cocoon, attempting to stave off a sore ass stemming from hours on solid wood by a butt used to cozy sectionals and memory foam.

remember all the books, all the sentences, all the words that ate you up, gave you perspective, offered you insight, pushed away your boredom, added a small drop to that growing but yet shallow well of wisdom.

remember the cold, cold water taking your breath away each and every single instance of bathing, and the frigid joy that water brings as it sends shivers through your marrow and instantaneously lowers your internal temperature.

remember the sunset on the water, with a fruit smoothie in hand that's honestly half fresh fruit and half condensed milk and sugar syrup, while gazing at the crinkle around your husband's eyes as he laughs at one of those ridiculous comments you love to say and thinking to yourself, how is this is my life, and when was it deemed that i was worthy of such joy?

right now, i'm remembering it all, and i'm wishing on the present, and i'm counting all the moments wherein i alight upon this joy, this life.

here in the now,

cambodian you

me, in a nutshell.

“Reading is everything. Reading makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something, learned something, become a better person. Reading makes me smarter. Reading gives me something to talk about later on. Reading is the unbelievably healthy way my attention deficit disorder medicates itself. Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it’s a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it’s a way of making contact with someone else’s imagination after a day that’s all too real. Reading is grist. Reading is bliss.” — Nora Ephron

or, even more simply,

“I am simply a ‘book drunkard.’ Books have the same irresistible temptation for me that liquor has for its devotee. I cannot withstand them.” — L.M. Montgomery

alas,

“I cannot live without books.” — Thomas Jefferson

via 

less

i have lived the last year using, and rotating, the same thirteen pairs of underwear.

it has involved a lot of (hand)washing of those little undies, but, to be honest, i haven't noticed.

(beyond the holes and general stretched-out-ness those thirteen pairs now possess.)

but it did provide a physical manifestation of a through-necessity mantra that topher and i have been living by for the past 13 months:

less.

living on $1-$3 a day, rotating the same four skirts and seven shirts at work, and then the same ten tee shirts and three pairs of pants at home, while rocking the same dingy, hole-y thirteen undies has helped me see that in america, i sincerely lived on too much.  bought too many clothes.  ate too much food. spent too much money.

i'd like to maintain my mantra of less when we return next  year.  chris and i have already discussed how to set better boundaries for not going overboard- on eating, on spending, on living- when we come home.  we've both found that we enjoy making things work with less money, with less resources.  it's cliche to say it, but it helps us appreciate it all the more, ya know?

and this has to mean something coming from a girl who proudly owned over 400 pairs of underwear prior to this Cambodian adventure!

(let's be honest- i really miss my wide assortment of undies.  i've been saving ten pair for my second year and it feels.so.good to wear them for the first time.)

(also, i wish i cared less about the two grey hairs i found at my front hairline this morning. i'm not even yet 27, people. tell me i'm not alone.)

thoughts?