Like That Hole in Your Boot

My poor baby toes are sporting some hefty blisters from traipsing around Vancouver Airport in new shoes today. I forgot you aren't supposed to wear new shoes for extended periods of time. Even though these shoes are expensive! And so pretty. I've heard internet rumors about stretching out leather shoes, but all the methods involve water and I'm worried that will ruin them somehow. Also, the internet has a history of feeding me vicious lies, for example the cake in a mug debacle. I think I will call the store tomorrow and see what they suggest.

I also have huge knots in my shoulders again from kayaking. My mom rubbed some sort of salve on them that she bought on the cruise ship we were on in March, and I guess it's working but I think what I need to do is lift weights to improve upper body strength, and also stretch before and after. I will not give up, though, because I'm part of a sport finally and I like it. On Saturday Mom and I went back to the river we took our lessons in, and we got waved at by all the boaters! By the real boaters! Then we discussed good places to kayak with some REAL kayakers, who did not look down upon us because it was our first time in our new kayaks. Like we are now part of a club! And then the coast guard came, but we were already out of the water which is good because we don't yet have throw ropes or bilge pumps, which is illegal. (Tsk tsk.)

I'm starting to freak out about money. I don't have very much right now, but I need a lot of it to prepare for my job, where I will soon have a steady income. The timing isn't right. If only they could pay me my whole salary NOW, so I could buy a car and insurance and a popcorn popper and pay two month's rent + security deposit. A few minutes ago I remembered that God has taken care of me so far, so I need to have faith that He will continue to do so. And maybe tomorrow I will go to the bank to meet with somebody about a loan or line of credit or whatever it is that gives me free money for a little bit.

Moats and Boats and Waterfalls

There are two kayaks sitting in plastic in my garage. Little do they know, soon their insulated, calm world is going to be ripped from them and they are going to be tossed into a freezing cold body of water. It may take them a moment or so to adjust, but have no fear: they will learn to love the job they were made for.

You see, my mother and I are not foolish, and thus waited to use them until we could use them safely. Tonight was the final night of our kayaking course, and now we are informed and certified. I DID A WET EXIT FROM MY KAYAK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RIVER*. I have almost never been so proud of myself as I am right now. (There was that time I did the Grouse Grind. That was also very impressive of me.)

With that in mind, I have composed an ode to kayaking. Because I'm like that.

An Ode To Kayak

O kayak --
You challenge to mind and body
upper-arm-strength tester,
fear-of-sinking confronter;
stand faithfully beneath me,
patient as I tumble in
(and tumble out) -
bright red beacon of buoyancy.

O kayak --
o tow rope, o bilge pump,
o government-sanctioned whistle,
together we learn to scull,
to pry,
to draw.
Sun sets on water as I confidently guide you
forwards,
backwards,
and in circles.

O kayak --
you protect me from waves wrought
by drunk teenagers in a motorboat,
but not from the plague of mosquitoes
carried on the cool river breeze.
(I forgive you this trespass,
as you forgave when I accidentally ran you aground).

O kayak --
together we cut a silent path
through my doubts and lack of muscle tone
(but only in calm water, of course).


*(Wet exit = flip over kayak so you are upside down in the river, kick self out of kayak, emerge from river, turn kayak over, climb back in. I KNOW.)