I feel like I'm in a whole new city when the sun comes out. I went down to the beach yesterday to see if my stunt kite would fly -- alas, no wind. But the windless, waveless beach was its own spectacle in a way. Here were these giant chunks of earth sitting in front of me ... and here was this crystal clear channel between my side and their's. And to close your eyes, you'd think you were back home in the back yard (that still Chesapeake heat you can practically swim through). And then I open my eyes and ...
Every family has a dog. The one at my host family's house is named Ginger and she's an octogenarian golden something-or-other whose main hobbies include sitting in piles of dirt and yoga. Seriously. This dog performs a hilarious regimen of morning calisthetics that strangely resembles hatha yoga. She lies on her back and sends one hind leg arching out until it causes the whole four of them to sprawl out facing the sky. It's a very unnatural position, for humans as well as dogs, but I guess it helps her stretch out.
I've been given a Ford Festiva to drive while I'm here. You know, the small car you can steer by leaning on the driver-side window? Yeah, that's my babe-magnet. The first morning I had this car, I had to drive across the 10th street bridge to get to town. This was scary enough because the channel below was swarming with white-caps. Wind and rain beat the side of the car in horizontal sheets from the south. And I'm trucking on, with all four cylinders blazing when all of the sudden the hatch-back FLIES OPEN mid-way across the bridge. This was cool in a way because it gave the struggling Festiva something of a para-sail to make it across the bridge. This was scary in a way because it gave the same car AIRBORN CAPABILITY. So for a brief moment, I felt like I was gliding about 2cm above the pavement.
It's amazing what catches our attention out here. A few nights ago, we were hanging out at Jeanne's place, outside smoking a cigarette, when we noticed a spider had built an elaborate series of webs around the deck light. This was one smart motherfucking spider, since the deck light was a constant landing pad for every mosquito in range. I'm not kidding here: six of us sat watching -- in a circle -- as bugs landed in the web, one by one, and were gradually eaten by the spider. We gawked at the sublime justice of the Circle of Life for about 25 minutes.
On a related note, no one has found any pot yet.