blokarts.

I don’t know how to write this without sounding like a brat.

But last night there were hurricane strength winds and a constant whistle in my hut because the window doesn’t close all of the way. Craziest winds I’ve ever heard/felt and I’ve been through many hurricane warnings in Palm Harbor. In fact, we couldn’t even carry our soup to the next room without it blowing out of the bowl. So we had to just sit around, drink coffee, watch New Girl, and enjoy rice and beans. If I were a real working adult like before, I’d have to get up at 6:30am, regardless of a terrible night’s sleep, and work from 8-5, miserably tired. 

The wind meant that we got to go blokarting free of charge (usually it’s $60/hour). You hold the rope to control the sail and steer while thinking about being on the opposite side of the sand path trail (we Americans are getting used to that). People tipped over a bit, but I’m proud to say the three of us never did.

 

 

 

For some reason, I would think about my job situation in
forever terms. “I will be Miss Virginia’s age (90) and still be working at Mars
Hill College.” This was ridiculous, but it’s what I did. And Mars Hill wouldn’t
be a bad place to be for 60 more years, in fact, it’d be lovely. But I get
claustrophobic and restless when I think about forever. So I finally made a
move and am now having to think in terms of weeks.

Last two weeks: cleaning and
cooking in the North Shore

These two weeks: surfing and cleaning and weeding in Muriwai

Next two weeks: gardening and cleaning in the Bay of Plenty

One week after that: dog sitting in the Northland

What a wonderful way to switch it up and calm my crazy
little mind. These jobs are not forever, time in New Zealand is not forever,
and whatever I do next will not be forever.

I hope one of these weeks includes another round of blokarting. 

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