StuffingManyAmeriCorps (in a) Cabin (Evolving Dynamics)

It’s the time of year where toes begin to tingle, fingers fidget and motivation gets muffled by the anticipation of summer and what comes Post AmeriCorps (as if that wasn’t already nipping at my conscious enough). Our supervisor Meghann, having been one of us years ago, is all too aware of the burn-out factor and so she has traditionally organized a sort of team retreat weekend around this time, under the guise of our SMACed Training required by the program officials. SMACed stands for Self Marketing and….Asset something Education. Obviously, we totally emphasize on this during the weekend. 

Really, its a bonding opportunity coupled with some casual discussion about life after AmeriCorps. 

Last year, the team voted to have our SMACed weekend at Camp Indianola in a small town of the same name which rests right along the Puget Sound. It’s a gorgeous area and it was no contest that we voted to return for this year’s “training.” 

I recalled last year’s experience with some resentment towards my health; I’d muddled through with severe discomfort most days and donned a fractured wrist that furthered my physical malaise and distance from the joyful bonding energy of the team. This year however, my anxiety was founded more in the social sphere. I arrived with my best intentions and hopes, not focusing on the past experiences and the fact we’d all been “out of practice” with one another over the spring break. However, my apprehensive optimism was quickly squashed within the first couple of hours. 

Team meals are a divided responsibility throughout the weekend and Ariella and I had chosen to cook our first dinner. Given my food limitations, I was super excited for our meal, one of the only group dishes I’d be able to participate in. After a busy day of errands and commuting from Seattle, I’d only grazed here and there. As Ariella and I began filling our kitchen with curry aromas, the team rolled in and started stocking our fridge with some good cheer for later, which sparked our desire to go on a similar mission while our food finished cooking. Knowing that we wouldn’t be back from the store before food was ready, we told others they should feel free to start eating. 

If there is one dangerous habit to fracture a team, I’ve learned that it is assumption. It’s ridiculously easy to assume that certain outlooks or choices of action you would hold or make are a given for everyone else. That night, we had assumed that making sure there was food left for us would be common practice. Apparently, others had assumed we would have eaten out while getting groceries. 

Energy shifted dramatically the moment I peered into the near-empty pot. Voicing our frustration was met with spite, as though we not only had no reason, but no right to be bothered. The rest of the evening was icy. I quietly journaled once I realized there would be no meeting me half way when I attempted to sit with the group. It was an early night. 

Meghann began our training the next day with group expectations. I’d tried to let the incident before be water under the bridge but felt it was appropriate to include related feelings to our list that was mostly being comprised of happy-go-lucky answers and jokes about forest animals. Ariella added “make sure everyone gets firsts” and I simply added “Don’t assume.” That was that. No conversation. The tension was super high. 

Next on our agenda was interview practices. We were to have conversations with one another about what advice we had for interviewing skills. It felt like a minefield outside as I tried to pair up with people I felt I could be neutral with. 

The activity was fitting for what was coming next. Part of the training this year required each of us to come up with an “asset training”. We were to choose a subject or skill we felt we could teach or contribute some sort of insight to and then do a 10-15 minute session with the team. I was to be the first one up and I was beginning to feel like I was preparing for an interview with a panel of eleven. 

I’d originally planned to teach how to make pickles and Kefir; basically, cultured foods. When we’d all given suggestions on what we thought the other could teach us, a lot of the responses I got were about healthy foods and yoga. The more I’d thought about it though, the more meaningless it felt. Those responses were just based on a superficial understanding of who people thought I was. Half the group would probably have cared less about knowing how to make pickles. The morning I’d left for Seattle, I sat in the coffee shop to jot some last minute notes about probiotics and instead, I pulled up a blank powerpoint and wrote: Imprints: A Talk. And that was that. I launched into a stream of consciousness, doing my best to compile a concise, laymen’s glimpse into my head and the various mental and emotional levels I’d come to define as my journey through health and how intertwined it is with spirit and the full person. I managed to link my tangents to photography as the cornerstone of showing evolution of the journey and by the end, felt confidant that I’d chosen the right talk. 

Now however, after the night before, my “interview” butterflies were sky-high and the closer we got to the talk, the worse they got. Essentially, I was interviewing to have a deeper part of myself be accepted by a group who already disdained the surface idea of who they thought I was. Tough gig. 

The talk went fairly well. I felt I could have had a more coherent presentation if I hadn’t chosen it last minute but overall, I covered most of what I intended to, I didn’t stumble or draw a blank, and I didn’t cry (so, maybe I came close.) The response was lots of quiet but respectfully so, and regardless of the reception, I was already feeling like I could breathe better. My talk was followed by Ariella’s ‘Laughter Yoga’ which sealed the deal for me. A retreat that had, by no stretch of the imagination, felt like a segregated prison, was finally feeling more like a retreat. Laughter Yoga ended with something called an ‘Angel Walk’ in which everyone takes turns walking down an aisle formed by their teammates as we all voice compliments to them. I nervous pang returned as I got ready for my turn. I imagined superficial comments, awkward pauses, or simply “I can’t think of anything” but I was graciously surprised by the comments I received, some pertaining directly to the impact of my talk. I was equally surprised by myself as I found the nuggets of my highest appreciations for each individual.

Laughing pile during Laughter Yoga

The rest of the weekend’s trainings were equally inspiring and it felt like each one stayed true to showing each person’s authentic passions. Kerissa cleverly transformed us each into dog breeds, Erika and Brenda let me embrace my long-lost spanish-speaking past, Ainsley surprised us all with her Irish Dancing skills and successfully made us look like fools, Matt put some method to the madness of my basketball “skills”, Jeremy shared very detailed slacken knowledge, Lou of course embraced his mushroom expertise, Katy did a fun photo exercise, Mell got us all in on her paper crane obsession and Cassie thought us fire-building which became our bonfire that evening. 

And the bonfire worked its magic, as bonfires do. By the end of the night, we all felt like equals and any adversity I’d experienced through the year was dissipated in that moment. For one night in a long time, I’d felt like part of the whole group.

The rest of the weekend maintained a much more relaxed exchange between group members. Sunday afternoon brought some health distress to me and I had to remove myself for a bit but I bounced back by evening. Before we left on Monday, Ariella, Cassie, Brenda, Katy, Mell and I went to the beach so that Katy could introduce us to her new favorite creature: The GooeyDuck. For those who don’t know, Gooey Ducks are the Peni of the sea. They are also the Mascot of Evergreen, the only fitting mascot they could possibly have. Katy had seen her first the day before on our beach walk and was now our designated GooeyGuide. As soon as low tide hit, we headed down and meandered about for an hour or so, feeling a bit forlorn as minutes passed without a sighting. We did see other neat specimen including a many-legged start fishy dude and a Moon Snail which reminds me of Jabba the Hut. Just as I was getting anxious to get us on the road, Mell shouted “Oh my gosh! A dead Gooey Duck!” and then, as we began to crowd: “Oh my gosh! It’s not dead!” This lone rebel had sprawled out on the sand where typically, only their phallic head is seen from the surface of the sand. As Ariella and I began to walk back to the car, we started seeing a bunch, squirting into the air before dodging back down several feet under ground, as is their habit. I think it was just the time of day we’d chosen to go. They were finally waking up in all of their pornographic glory.

I had to steal Katy's picture to show what one of these suckers looks like!

Star-fishy dude!

Moon Snail!

The weather on the drive back was beautifully sunny and warm and we could finally ride with the windows down. It was wonderful to have my favorite road companion on the way back to reflect on the weekend and be able to speak frankly and openly to. As we talked, I realized that I was fully grateful for a weekend that had begun as a terrifying nightmare. Everyone had had the opportunity to show themselves a little more fully and with each little layer exposed, more clarity and acceptance seemed to fill the weekend. It was a training weekend, just not in “SMACed”. It was a training in questioning assumption and self growth through team experience. 

Spring Break: Cider and Seattle

Good weather graced us for most of our trip, except for the day we hoped to see Hurricane Ridge. After leaving Forks, we were headed to Port Townsend and had planned to drive up to the ridge so mother could witness the incredible view I'd taken in months before. We failed to think that the weather would be anything but the clear sunny skies we were getting in town but half way down the highway, we entered a fog that only got worse as we continued upwards. I didn't even know we'd reached the visitor's center until I saw parking spaces on the road because we couldn't see the building in front of us. Mother wanted to wait around for an hour to see if clouds would lift but that debate got settled when the rangers said they were closing for the day. As we got back in the car, there was the slightest break that revealed one rocky, snowy peak. Mother jumped out for a picture as though we'd just seen big foot.

Back in town, the sun was still there and we headed on to a destination I'd been anticipating for some time: Finnriver Farm and Cidery! I was immediately in love. The farm is tucked away along a dirt road of little properties and countryside and despite their popularity, it feels super-home-y and humble. Hand-painted signs are abound and dogs trot around the driveway to greet you. The tasting room is attached to the production barn where huge stainless steel vats of cider sit fermenting and the core group of cider makers sip concoctions. Our tasting hostess Erin was exceptional and we conversed with her over an hour about everything from cider to school, family and odd jobs. I had been fantasizing the possibilities of living and working up there since we'd arrived and tried to show the best of my cider inquiries and get a sense of opportunities. Erin would actually be leaving after May because they are expanding and looking for someone more full-time and I was super enticed to take her spot. Unfortunately I'll still be tied down in May. And really, I don't know if another wanderlust gig is what I need right now. Still, I'm keeping all my dreams open at this point.

Besides the good conversation, there were obviously good tastes happening as well. We tasted 8 ciders and a few cider wines. Before Finnriver was a cider operation, they were a full-functioning farm. The family of four had gotten the property 10 years ago when the parents decided they wanted to have their kids raised among farm life. A family picture on the wall behind us furthered my deep appreciation for the vibe there. Cider came to life only 6 years ago and the 4-acre business is just now pursuing expansion plans for more growing space and an on-site gathering area to do brick-fired pizza and cider galore.

Our first taste was their Hopped Cider, of which I'd only had one other. This one far surpassed my hoppy experiences. Erin explained that the difference of flavor in hopped cider as opposed to beer is because it is not heated so you get a brighter, airier taste. It was not nearly as overpowering. The next one we tasted was a spring seasonal I'd actually shared with Dusty on our cider date: Solstice Saffron.  The saffron is locally grown and harvested from a nearby farm and just the slightest amount created the aromatic, complex flavor we tasted. This one was definitely a favorite, being drier but flavorful. I think that my cider preferences are veering away from the sweeter ones but not quite wanting something so dry that it just tastes alcoholic; this was a perfect medium. After a delicious pear, we moved onto Black Current. This is the one I see most often in stores but had never ventured to try it because I'd historically had bad luck with berry types. I was thoroughly delighted to have my berry qualms crushed! Although this is back on the sweeter side, the super potent, tangy taste of the currants is infused perfectly so that it is complex and full-bodied without being heavy and syrupy or tasting superficial like many other fruit ciders I've tried. Erin was also in favor of their most popular flavor but explained the irony in that the farm was so invested in local, sustainable practices and yet this best-seller was also the only flavor that had to source internationally. Apparently there was a disease back in the 60's called White Pine Blister Rust which required a host plant such as Currants in order to spread its crippling symptoms upon trees. Because of the threat, Currant plants completely eradicated from the area. I asked her if there'd been any success in establishing an effective way to revive the crop within the country and she said that they are partnering with a farm that will be working on that project but for now, all of their Currrants come out-of-country. I still bought a bottle of the stuff, though.

Next was a Berry Sour Cider I'd eyed when we first walked in. I'd just had my first taste of a sour beer last week and had never seen a sour cider, let alone know anything about what makes a sour a sour. Erin described it as an "intentional accident". Essentially, it involves infusing the cider with a wild yeast that contains 3 different types of funky lacto-bacteria. "So, it's like a probiotic drink? Like Kombucha?" I asked. Basically (how's that for convincing yourself that drinking is healthy?) I liked the concept much more than the flavor. It was exciting but a little to "frenchy-funk" for me. The next one was also more of an experience for novelty's sake, as I've never been too much a fan of Barrel-aged ciders. Their Fire Barrel is aged in Oak as opposed to their steel vats so it picks up a ton of woody flavor. It also contains a unique strain of bretino misces bacteria that helps along the earthy flavor and uses a very high-tannin apple. The earthy, bitter combination was good for a taste but I wouldn't do a full glass.

Erin finished us off with a some of their thicker, specialty concoctions. First, a Black Current Bourbon, infused cider that is fermented, sent to a nearby distillery and then fruit-infused. This one had a port-style texture and the sweetness was cut by the bourbon to make it more of a drink I'd use to flavor a food or something. Then we tried two dessert-style wines, an apple and a pear. At this point though, I think I had found my favorites and was more interested in our conversation.





After the tasting, mother and I wandered the farm out past their u-pick blueberries to where Erin said they'd just gotten new meat piggies. There was a worker there to feed them when we got there and we got to see them all flock to him at once like dogs. We both agreed then and there that pigs were far too pet-like for us to contemplate killing. Heading back to the cider house, we mad our purchases and got on the road. But not before Erin gave me a contact card for musician inquiries. She explained that come May, they would be doing weekly pizza/music/cider parties on their pavilion and were looking for musical talent. I see a road trip with Dusty in the future!

The immediate area of Port Townsend instantly won my appeal. Mother and I put our things down at our Bed and Breakfast, The Commander's Beach House which say immediately on the waterfront, and then walked the streets of galleries and shops to Silverwater Cafe which serves a delicious Chili Greenbean dish and even more Finnriver cider. The town was getting sleepy by the time we left but we checked out their co-op and the next day, got to visit a few of the galleries and walk into their state park which is home to an old Fort complex, Barracks and all. A couple of roadies that we'd come across at the pier told us it was a must-see and explained how the area was a major first-line of defense for anticipated water-borne attacks during the time of Hiroshima and even earlier on. The moss-covered structures were open to the public to venture inside the graffiti on the walls suggested that they'd probably made many a happy home for people before the land was made into park territory. I think I'd be too wigged out to sleep there.

Before we knew it, we were once again Seattle-bound. This time, it would be via ferry. Port Townsend is surprisingly close to Seattle, taking under two-hours if you cross the water from Bainbridge Island. This makes it an even more enticing spot to consider living. I was excited to finally have my first ferry experience, albeit a bit nervous about the concept of thousands of tons of vehicle weighing down the belly of the boat. It is quite a claustrophobic experience to drive your car into the dark carrier belt and we were parked next to a giant school bus which made even more anxious. However, once it starts and you get out on the deck, you forget about the precarious load. It's a fun way to commute. I don't know if I'd get sick of it if I had to do it every day but the process seems to go pretty smoothly as long as you're not waiting for a boat during rush hour.

Mother and I tried to meet up with our Seattle connections for dinner and cider but timing didn't work. We were able to enjoy a last meal of delicious sushi from Chiso between just the two of us and I treated mother to a flight experience at the tasting house. As our trip was winding to an end, each moment began feeling more precious and I was even more determined not to let any reactive attitude enter our evening. Mission accomplished, above and beyond. Back at the Air BnB that now felt like home, we stayed up and finished a game of rummy while sharing cider and chocolate with Sarah and getting to know her a little bit better.

I slept horribly that night. I think it was because I would be dropping mother at the airport in the morning. When we hugged goodbye, it all hit me at once that I didn't know when I'd see her again, that after wanting her immediate comfort and support for so long, I was so soon being thrust back into "dealing" by myself out here. In my last look at her before leaving, I paused to search her face. It was there that I found deep gratitude and love and knew that our time had been worthwhile even through the downs. It was then I could see her go.

And back in Packwood, life goes on. April stands for action. And snow?

With rain in the forecast all weekend, the mountain is getting between 8 and 24 inches (supposedly) so I may get one last go at it tomorrow. Then it's back to work on Monday before two more out-of-town adventures, one with the team and one with my dear, dear love Anna!

Full steam ahead.

Spring Break: On to the Olympics

Saturday was a learning curve. I think that after a few days of launching into a less reserved diet on top of getting right back into travel threw my system for a spin. My mom and I arrived in Seattle in the afternoon and by the time we'd checked into Sarah's Air BnB and headed for a walk in the Arb, I could tell I was in for a rough evening. My stomach pain got really bad just before dinner and I tried to manage a smile through our exotic vietnamese food experience but came out on the other end with a sobbing admission of tough times to my mother. Even though I was a damper the whole evening, we did get some laughs and smiles from attending a show at the Moisture Festival, a large Comedy/Variety event in Seattle. Mother had gotten tickets because she heard a favorite artist named Don White would be there. Although he only did one duet, the rest of the acts were way worth-while and she did get to talk to him in person at the intermission. Besides the funny musical number, there were some incredible performance feats. A man by the name of Patrick McGuire did a great Chaplin-esque act that involved impressive juggling skills and a woman named Sarah Sparrow did another silent act while accomplishing amazing aerial stunts. The only act neither of us liked was a family group that did standard circus fare and gave off a very unsettling vibe of dysfunction.

Sunday began rough as well but once we left the city, I had a long car ride to write a bit, breath into my struggles and come to some semblance of equilibrium. We revisited the Quinault area that I'd explored years ago with my friend Sean and by the time we reached the coast nearing the Olympics, I was feeling much better. We were able to enjoy a delicious dinner at Kalaloch Lodge and a walk along the beach. After that, we continued on an hour to our home for the next two nights: Huckleberry Cabins in Forks.

For weeks leading up to this trip, every one of the phone conversations between my mother and I had included a desperate plea to convince me to let us listen to Twilight in the car. When she had learned that the story took place in Forks, she instantly convinced herself that it was of highest obligation to finally get in on the dreaded trend. The dialogue in regards to her initial request went something like this:

Mother:  *hesitantly hopeful voice* "so....did you know the Twilight books take place in forks?"

Me: "Yeeeeeeeano. No thanks."

I pointedly asked that if 50 Shades of Grey had been filmed there, would she insist we read that. Point taken, I thought the discussion was over but being the dedicated researcher of her travel destinations, she decided to listen to the book anyway and so upon entering Forks, there was a bit of tongue-biting as she tried to filter any mention of Vamps and Werewolves. I did finally let her explain why there was this sign posted at the entrance to La Push, the next town over:

I can tell you that the Forks area is plenty worthwhile for anti-Twilight fans. Just south of town is the entrance to the Hoh Rainforest. The road leading in winds you right along the Hoh River and its rather interesting to watch the landscape change from Mountainous valleys to the Temperate rainforest hidden within. I would love to go back sometime when I can embark on a multi-day hike because the main trail offered in that part of the park leads nearly 18 miles into a Glacier basin. Even still, the 2-mile loop trail near the river makes for a really nice way to spend the afternoon. As long as you don't lose your walking buddy. At first, I was impressed when after a stop by the river, I realized mother wasn't catching up and I went back to find she wasn't where I'd left her either. Yet as I continued on down the trail, my anxious mind started to make up all sorts of possibilities: What if she'd gone back the other way? What if she'd had a mishap by the river? What if she was waiting somewhere else on the trail? Looking back, it seems only reasonable to assume we'd meet up in the parking lot but  at the time, I told myself they always warn you that things can happen on even the smallest of trails! I got a bit teary when I saw her walking from the car as I emerged off the trail but I smiled a little inside, realizing how much I love this woman even when we get each other frustrated.

With the day still young, we stopped at a store on the way out of the park to ask about what there was to do in the area. This particular place happened to carry a line of clothing that was exceptionally enticing to our material weaknesses. We avoided even trying anything on for the longest time and then after mother got some destination advice from the nice cashier named Olga, she sort of gravitated back towards the rack of clothes, sweeping her hands over the comfortable fabric in a longing way. That was all it took for us to look at one another and pick some things to try on. I found a shirt I liked right away and then ended up chatting with Olga for the next 45 minutes or so while mother tried things on. Olga was this trip's Michigan transplant, as I always seem to run into when I travel out here. Not only was she from Michigan but she had grown up and gone to school in Grand Rapids. We talked about our experiences back home and what brought us out here, comparing notes on our small town lives. She was living with her grandparents and as we talked about art, she  shared a bit about her grandmother's hobby of selling the traditional clothing of her Guatemalan heritage. When mother was finally ready to go, it had begun to rain so instead of heading to the beach that Olga had recommended, we went back to the cabin and started a scrabble game. The rain cleared up for the last bit of afternoon and we hiked out to the ocean before dinner. The trail was in the town of La Push, which besides being anti-vampire, is also home to the Quileute Indian Tribe. The town was covered with the tribal artwork of the area, a style that I'd seen in greater Washington and become particularly drawn to when I learned about the mythic creature of these Pacific tribes, Sisiutl, typically depicted in this style of artwork.

making a path to the beach

Sisiutl is a two-headed water serpent that resides in the ocean. It is said that when one sees Sisiutl rise from the water and come towards them, not to run. It is said that if one stands their ground as Sisiutl charges, the serpent will reach the shore and before attacking, it's two heads will meet. Seeing one another, Sisiutl terrorizes only itself and fades back into the water.

Try to stand before Sisiutl every day.

Spring Break: Packwood Passover!

After the arduous wait for April to come, I am now relishing my last couple of days of the Spring Break before AmeriCorps kicks back into gear for our final, busy push.

As with all good and overly anticipated things, the break went by too fast. The majority of it was spent galavanting Western Washington with mother and while that always brings to the surface our personal challenges that sometimes feel like more work than relaxation, her visit was ultimately a much-appreciated and welcome retreat that will make the transition back to the hum-drum no easy task.

The week of her arrival, Puget Sound College was also offering a lecture on addressing difficult behaviors in children. I headed out a couple days before she was to fly in and attended the lecture. It was mostly relating to the principles of ACEs (Adverse Childhood Experiences) and IPBS, an individualized behavior system that our AmeriCorps program sort of utilized already. Even though I was familiar with a lot of the concepts, it was a good reminder series and led me to reflect a lot on the approaches we've taken at Open Gym. I was disappointed in recognizing some of the ways we've utilized punishment and the lecture motivated me to return to a more positive-reinforcement based structure when we start up again. Another bonus was that the man giving the lecture was a professor from the Portland State School of Social Work, of which I may be considering sooner down the road than I'd thought.

I stayed with Jordan in Olympia that night before heading into Seattle to bum around with Bryan and Dusty for a day before my mom arrived. While Dusty worked, Bryan and I explored Discovery Park which provides a wonderful illusion of wilderness within the city. We managed to get ourselves lost there for a while and before darting around to a few establishments: Mox Cafe where I surprised myself by winning at chess and Brouwer's Brewpub where I broke my Cider abstinence and my GAPs diet in one big swoop with a delicious Falafel Burger.

As I headed to Capitol Hill to pick up Dusty from work that evening, I experienced strange, bright flashes on the road. They were so luminous and quick that I thought they were some sort of traffic security camera. It wasn't until the thunder began that I realized it was lightening. The downpour lasted all of ten minutes but it was the first real thunderstorm I'd experienced since being out west. The thunder was so loud it shook the car. Dusty got off just as the rain stopped and we went out for a Cider House tasting. We both found a new favorite in Finnriver's Saffron seasonal as well as a new "never again". I can't even remember which cidery it was that had the cough-syrupy tasting pomegranate. But the one that won me over was Snowdrift's Red Apple reserve, recommended to us by our waitress. It was no other apple purity I've ever tasted and felt very much like good champagne.  Unfortunately, bottles of the stuff were long gone. With the abrupt return to cider, a tasting flight was enough and the good conversation satiated both of us.

I managed to get Dusty to rise early the next day and we met up with Bryan for breakfast at the Earlybird Cafe. Since Bryan was preparing to move, I'd asked our bartender the night before what his must-see suggestions were. He recommended the Arboretum but it had been closed for the night so after breakfast, we decided to check it out. We had limited time before Dusty had to be off to work but we figured we could get there with a good hour to spare. A whole ton of Seattle-esque detours and an accidental round-about through a hospital parking lot later, we'd made it to the Arb with about 20 minutes to meander. When I asked the visitor's center lady what we could do in 20 minutes, she had a unique and convenient recommendation; Lightening from the storm the night before had caused a tree to explode. Not split. Not burn. explode. It could be found just beyond the building. We strolled over to the ecological oddity and were thoroughly impressed by the complete lack of charring damage. The wood was fresh-smelling, wet bright-colored wood. the grounds smelled like an Fir Tree Candle. Apparently, the blast radius had measured a whole 500 feet. The limited time of our excursion and our traffic disasters were easily redeemed by having the opportunity to see such a sight.

 Once Dusty was off to work and Bryan said his farewells, I grabbed groceries and headed to meet my mom! The timing of her arrival for this visit was especially exciting because Passover on that Friday and we were going to have our own little Packwood Seder.

best Salmon dish I've ever had. 

Once I whisked her up, we hunted down some dinner in Tacoma, where I tasted some of the best Salmon on the planet. The next day was devoted to Passover preparations. I'd found a recipe for homemade everything, from macaroons, to horseradish to almond flour matzo. We took a break around 1 o'clock and bummed around the Butter Butte with a good game of Scrabble before finishing off the last of the cooking. While mother prepared the chicken dish, I snuck out the table supplies I'd scrounged up at the Thrift store and surprised her with an elegant set-up, including everything down to Elijah's glass. After unsure feedback from various people I'd tried to invite to join us, Dean and Brenda ended up making for very delightful company. My mom had brought the Hagaddah I made years ago and we included some good discussion in with the typical blessings for an abridged seder service. After dinner, we replaced the second half of the seder with a game of Taboo. Much more entertaining.

It was a wonderful way to welcome mother to town and a great opportunity to get to know both my friend and my teammate a bit more.



The next day, it was time to hit the road!