A four layer cake...of work, work, work!

Hi ho, Hi ho

it's off to work we go!

Dad and Jordan hung around for the relaxing days before the weekend of the flea market and we ventured to Paradise for a nice hike before they fled, just in time to escape chaos.

Anyone living in Packwood who is insane enough to tolerate it knows that Flea Market weekend is the weekend to work. The prospect of putting in 42 hours in three days is probably supposed to seem daunting to someone with a healthy balance of work ethic and relaxation but to me I didn't think twice...let alone once. After a week of being on the road, I'd left time to have a glorious kick-off dinner with my dad, brother and new neighbor teammates, play games and venture to paradise in Ranier but absolutely no time for settling in before plunging into the work weekend. 

The mental and physical shift one makes is akin to wilderness survival - your self shifts and makes what you thought were impossibly drastic adaptations just to get you through. Friday through Sunday, I worked my three different jobs from 8am unil 2am with about a 2-hour break back home. 

With any long work weekend, there are bound to be unsavory situations. On Saturday for instance, everyone at Karaoke decided to give me hell and a half. For the most part however, beautiful social interactions quelled any overwhelming exhaustion that may have otherwise set in; as a returning help to the vendors at the Library, there were plenty of warm hugs and fond smiles from artists who I'd gotten to know (and buy things from) the year before; my co-workers and I kept one another laughing and easy-going at the coffee shop; familiar faces of tourists became weekend conversation staples when they came in to get their drink; even karaoke had more perks than expected, with an impassioned pair of girls singing and tipping me all the way through the first night. 

I managed not to splurge nearly as much as the year before but nevertheless came away with more than I expected: a sweater, a backpack, a lantern, gloves, soap and one of Jaenette's flax hot/cold packs after using the one I gifted to my dad excessively when I was back home. 

My house was a mess the entire weekend, my car still not even completely unpacked. But it hardly mattered because I was hardly home. I was completely immersed in the social aspect of life, meeting new vendors, discovering friends at Karaoke, seeing Open Gym kiddos pop up around town and running into old AmeriCorps members. 

It was hard to come down from the flight of the social butterfly. On Monday, after finishing my last shift at the Butter Butte, I began my trek home when I was distracted by a couple of PCT hikers I'd seen walking around earlier that day looking somewhat dazed. Now having the time to spare, I asked where they'd started and we entered a lengthy conversation outside of the grocery store. It wasn't but a few seconds after parting ways that I found myself racing back into the store to hunt down Brent for a phone number exchange. Through one conversation, it had seemed silly at first - would he even have a phone? - but I'd never actually talked to anyone hiking through before and the connection seemed to valuable to let slide away. Fortunately, phone-having and not weirded out, we swapped numbers and shortly after I returned home, I got a text inviting me to come hang out with him and his fellow trail buddies who'd split on a room for the night. Opportunity overtook exhaustion once again and settling in was put off a little longer. After a lovely few hours of hearing trail stories, sharing in our midwest/east roots, and finding a surprising amount in common in regards to stability/freedom in our lives, I made it home with just enough time for a decent sleep before my next work would begin...AmeriYear II

Pretty nifty side of the mountain

My lovely dancing friend Ibrahim coin' his thing