I've been laying low.
I've been bidding my time, padding my bank account and planning my next assault on the world. And now, the dark lord shall rise again, this time with an obediant Wormtail along for the ride.
Is this too cryptic? I feel as one of my 8 subscribing blog readers you should already know that in 2 weeks I shall be going south of the equator, and pretty much south of most places, save Antarctica. A little island known to most as New Zealand. And I shall not go Amelia Earheart on this one, this shall not be a solo flight. I have my trustee co-pilot, who has accompanied me on many adventure, including that of being born: Cameron "The Cakes" Doell.
What freaky twin thing?
So an intimate update: what have I been doing with the past 9 months of my life? Curing cancer? Auditing Goldman Sachs? Earning my PHD is underwater basket weaving?
No.
I have been the happiest.
After Costa Rica I returned to a frigid Colorado winter without a clue of what to do with my time, let alone my life. So I did a move motivated by neither logic nor love, jst the desire to not stagnate in my Smother's house. I up and moved to Tahoe City, California, USA. I moved in with 4 Maine-iacs, loaded chairlifts at Squaw Valley USA and snowboarded pretty much everyday. Truly, Tahoe is my people. I've found really great friends, we call ourselves The Filthy Animals and have a great time. The flow of life is just my pace, no one lives here out of obligation. Therefore, everyone is so content with their lives, that it lends itself to a very happy vibe.
I took this photo on my daily commute one day. Yes, I was LTD.
My summer job has been mainly working at Front Street Pizza. Imagine this, me and 7 Mexican men slinging pizzas. Free Spanish lessons, I'm possibly more fluent than when I was in Costa Rica, although I now have a filthy vocabulary. The main one I work with is Omar, a big guy from Durango, Mexico who maintains that we were meant to be together. I deflect his affections by claiming to be a lesbian, or as he says a Tortilliera, a tortilla maker. I've taught him the English word for the tortilliera, scissoring. He recently bought a really nice brand new Dodge ram truck and got asked out by a tortilliera, so he thinks he has the power to change.
I am part of a bitchin gang of girls, we call ourselves the Filthy Animals. It's an exclusive crowd, a wolfpack comprised of 4. There's Lauren Lobes Badbiggs, she's pretty much the toughest vegetarian you'll ever meat. (Intentional spelling, ah c'mon.) She's from Newport, but oddly is nothing like the show Laguna Beach; she reads Vonnegut and drinks Jim Beam and she has a keen fixation on Trader Joes-right down to the shampoo. Kerry's from Southern California too, and same deal, defying the image that MTV spoon fed me during younger impressionable years. Kerry has a big, mean dog (read: adorable and docile) dog named Bear- he likes to dress up for theme parties. She makes some really bomb food, and if we're talking explosives, her mojitos are so good they'd be the equivalent of at least an atom bomb. Karen's nickname is High Life on the softball field and she sews a mean sweatshirt. My favorite thing about Karen is her love of karaoke, no matter the setting or crowd, Karen's bound to be jamming.
So in this mountainous nirvana I have wanted for nothing... except money. But I said it once and I'll say it again, feeling good is good enough for me. In the quest for happiness, I think New Zealand is a clear next step. Cammy and I don't know what to expect, and for all I know it'll fail and I'll be back in a month. But let's be real, I won't let that happen.
On Friday I shall drive the 18 hour shift home to Colorado to see my bruised up Smother. She recently had a rough bike accident, and before you ask, not motorcycle. Bicycling. and then I'll fly to LA to spend some days with Grandma and Grandpa Doell. Ultimately, we'll hop on a loooooooooong flight and touch down in Dunedin. Wish us luck.
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