The trip to Marlinton is over, and I'm back here where I...well, not where I belong, if I’m gonna be straightforward about it, but where I pay rent, anyways.
It's amazing how quickly you're back when you come home from a trip. You think you're gonna get your feet wet, maybe wade into the kiddie pool a little ways before you start relearning how to swim, and then someone comes along and shoves you right into the deep end.
I didn't even have a chance to put on my swimming trunks first.
So, before I get too awful caught up in all the Huntingtonivity, Huntingtonness, Huntingtonicity, whatever you'd say there...before I get too caught up in all that and forget the wonderful time I had this weekend, I'm gonna make a list of things to remember from the Marlinton trip:
Walking into the radio station in time to hear Cheryl say, “No, you can’t have that one, ‘cause Jesus is using it as a ceiling fan.” This is the reverse of what happened with Reed last week…a punchline that stands on its own. I don’t even care what the joke was.
Chicken fried steak, giant mounds of hash browns, toast, sweet tea, and all the gravy in the whole world at French’s Diner, not once but twice (and the second time with an egg as well…just like heaven).
Not getting tetanus from the old railbridge, even though my Dooleys were sure I would.
A four-word MySpace message that hasn’t been out of my thoughts for a second since Saturday night.
Taking notes during the school board meeting. I was gonna write a big post on here about how the adult members of the school board are plotting against the Student Representative, who was not present at the meeting even though her name was on the agenda. There’s something going on there. They are trying to strip her of her power, is what it is. That post, obviously, never happened, but it was fun to think about.
Also, the lovely irony of passing notes back and forth with Mrs. P at a school board meeting. It was like being in high school English class again.
The Lewisburg apartment of Clan Dooley, which reminded me of home so much that it made me a little bit dizzy…I kept expecting to look out the window and see Church Hill or the Lee Bridge. Also, Ma Dooley saying that I looked “like wisdom beauty and gentleness personified.” I can never receive enough compliments.
Continually NOT clipping my fingernails.
The balcony, and the view that became so familiar so quickly, and poor hard-working long-suffering Cerberus, and Mrs. P thinking she needed to explain to me why the candle, when used as an ashtray, smelled so nice.
My impromptu live album, recorded in the shower.
Sarah furiously updating her Vocab from Hell because Mrs. P and I couldn’t stop saying stupid things. Live In Your Mom, Play In Ours. Your mom—Australian for Beer. Because So Much Is Riding On Your Mom. Happiness Is Your-Mom-Shaped. Melts In Your Mom, Not In Your Hands.
Remedy sleeping on my feet.
Marilyn’s speech while trying to organize a party that no one else seemed to know was going on, and my raffle ticket.
Translating what my Dooleys were saying into French in my head and mumbling it into my pillow, half-asleep on Monday morning.
Five books for a dollar in the bookstore, and a beautiful purple sweater for $1.50 at the thrift store, and drops of Jupiter to bring home to Amy.
Riding a beat-up old bike out to the telescope. I’m gonna try only to remember the downhill bits, though.
A punk rock show at the Opera House (which, I’m gonna leave that alone) and an old woman who scared all the punk rock kids enough that they called the police.
And most fondly, I'll remember these:
Discussing buckwheat pancakes with Mrs. P. I don’t like pancakes, but it didn’t make much difference in the context of the conversation.
Difficulty with the high beams on the way up. The fearlessness of Mrs. P on country roads. Janis Joplin and Joni Mitchell. Trading songs and stories with Sarah all the way home (the first person to hear me sing one of my own songs since probably 1998), pulling over to let the storm pass us, and fireworks from the highway.
