I, [Not] Robot

You know your job is a good one when you get yelled at for looking tired because it is unprofessional. Emotions have gone to the unprofessional category with jeans, Reefs and making jokes clients names. Like those sisters named Dorothy and Em.
Moral? I will still make fun of clients. I will still wear my Reefs on a daily basis. And I will still be tired. Because I am not a robot.

Like cradling a sack of sugar. For weight and deliciousness.

I know that everyone says the new baby that they've seen for the first time is the cutest baby they've ever seen, but I just want to make it clear that if there were a pita fold sandwich that had the itty-bittiest chin and nose of my brand spanking new nephew, Charlie, I would eat it.

And then I would not drive home with my mother who, bless her heart in her aging age is starting to leave her blinker on which fulfills one of my top pet peeves, just above paying for refills and people who major in communications.

Google research confirms that those orange things are, in fact, fish eggs. Ew?

Things I thought during the Post-Sushi Hunger*:

1. Do I enjoy the musical entertainment of the Polyphonic Spree to go see them in their robes at the Fine Line next month?
2. If I do enjoy them enough to go see them in robes, am I risking my sanity in the name of a band that has denied accusations of being a cult?
3. Yes, I do understand that at a cult's hang out place, their napkins say "we are not a cult".
4. Is it possible to sweat one's own body weight?
5. How many layers of skin can I peel away from my hairline and knee pits before pure muscle is exposed?
6. On a scale of 1 to 10, how annoying is OAR?
   

*Post-Sushi Hunger: That moment approx. 2-3 hours after you've eaten sushi, when the content feeling of being comfortably full of nutritional goodness wears off and you are overtaken with intense hunger that usually results in hamburgers and fried food.

Only when I have been brainwashed by a thirty seven hour bus ride will I partake in sing-a-longs

It is 8:46 pm just now, which is approximately nine hours and forty six minutes later than we have gotten home from Juarez in previous years. Our across-the-nation driving adventure was bound for doom from the moment we woke up an hour earlier than need be yesterday morning, followed by many things that eventually led to a moment of weakness in which I let someone draw large polka dots on my face.

Some factors:

• A bus driver who chose to relieve himself (numero dos, people) ten minutes after a rest stop in the bathroom that he lectured was only for emergencies. Plus, he wouldn't own up to it and claimed that he was only making phone calls
• The other bus driver who accused us of being racist
• Intense heat->overheating->(4) twenty minute stops sans AC and windows
• Eating lunch and then passing place of lunch one hour later
• Late night storm->fogged windows->long periods of no AC or windows->missed turn->20 minute detour
• Insanity that set in at approximately 11 pm which led to emotional breakdowns in the forms of crying, yelling, laughing, eating, and vom
• Double dose of sleeping pills->sleeping in a sitting position->double vision, kankles

It was an otherwise successful trip. Kids are still cute and in dire need, one in particular named Alan (pronunciation: Ah-Lon) who I met four years ago is now eight and doing well. I came home with new punk-rock bangs, the artistic scissor workings of Sri, stylist at large who now has me thinking about a pixie haircut.
Of course before I make any brash decisions about my appearance I vow to:

1. Shower.
2. Sleep.
3. Google research.
   

Because it takes us as long to get through Texas as it does the rest of the country

To cap off the fourth week of busy, I'm headed off to Mexico in the wee hours tomorrow. I'm over the bulk of the packing anxiety; it tends to get less stressful if I've been on a trip before, and I've really gotten the hang of cross-referencing packing lists. I'm considering it as a field of study when my plans as a professional mermaid fall through, and just after I pursue my aspiration of becoming a full-time daydreamer.
I am guaranteeing no internet access, and am also guaranteeing that I will still not have learned how to spell the word "guarantee" before I get back. Big ups to the new Firefox for auto spell check.
Have a pleasant week, interwebs. Make good choices and pray for my sanity on the cumulative 60 hour bus ride.

Things to be Thankful For

1. That this happened today and not one week ago when we were right in it's paths
1. That they don't think there were any casualties
2. That it didn't hit Coban, where they can't handle this sort of damage
2. For not falling on stage last night, which is saying very little when that one kid did a backflip and didn't fall
3. For the quick wit of sisters- Something involving a certain boyfriend resembling a certain brother, responded with something about one of us gaining a substantial amount of weight
4. For Xanax during times of large party planning

Foot in Mouth. Or Something to the Likes.

I've made an ass of myself.
Again.
I walked into a the party of someone that was not the Mr. Fix-It, cute-haired, glasses-wearing, trumpet player that I thought it was. And not even the kind where you open the door, don't recognize the furniture, and subtly walk out. The kind where you walk in, talk to some people, scope out the food array, grab a Diet Coke and talk to the mom before you realize.

Tomorrow, I walk and will try and take part in not-falling and enjoying the forced lifetime moment celebration. And Sister will come. Ripe and armed with butter knives to stab anyone who crosses her 9-month preggo path.

The Guat: By the Numbers

(.6) Hours of sleep the last night.
(3) Times we almost died
(24) Hours driving in vehicles without seat belts
(0) Hours driving in vehicles with seat belts
(2) Times I experienced a natural marvel because of eustress
(1) Piece of volcanic rock stuck in my finger
(9) Toe nails that Matt still has
(1) Radio show to prove our journey
(1) Diploma

Damnit.

Things just now realized:

1. The coffee we pounded at the monastery all week long was decaf.
   

Nothing else really matters.

Love from Antigua.

Blessings to be Counted

Still in Coban, experiencing extreme ends of the spectrum of life. (For lovely pictures see here)
For instance, the tour of the local coffee plantation yesterday, we smelled one of the best smells (freshly picked, washed, selected and toasted Guatemalan coffee beans) and saw a beautiful tree (avocado tree: surprisingly ginormous and cauliflower-like).
And today, we saw the absolute worst living situation I've ever seen or heard of. The people in this mountain crevasse which is the district garbage dump live off of the findings in the massive waste land. Food, clothes, housing materials, and the glass bottles they are sometimes lucky enough to scavenge for change. The families in this community sometimes hit bouts of such extreme poverty that they resort to selling one of their children to human traffickers for adoption or in the worst situations, organs on the black market.
I've found that most other parts that we have visited have been at least filled with some optimism about their situation- motivated to start a business, send their children to school, or join a church.
This "Basura" community is devastatingly far beyond that.
Simply, beyond hope.