Life gets ahead of you, takes you for a ride, and just maybe at some point it slows down so you can carve out a sliver of time to get caught up on journaling, blogging, painting- whatever your release is.
Life sure has taken me for a ride in the past few weeks. I'm happy to say that most of the ride has been exciting and positive but some has forced me to be honest with myself and has made me reinvision some goals I had for this year.
Lets start with something I never guessed I'd be doing. Chicken processing. "Processing" is the... polite (?)... term for... how a live chicken becomes a cleaned bird ready for the oven. Reluctantly I told my site leader she could count on me to attend. It just so happened that the Boston Crop Walk, hosted by Church World Service, was going to be that fateful Saturday and I was put in charge of organizing my church's youth for the walk. PHEW! Got out of that one. So I thought.
Buckle those seat belts folks, here we go!
The Crop Walk was moved to November 9th just in time for me to attend the chicken processing event. I spent the entire night before having a battle between coming up with an excuse as to why I can't go and reasons why I should do this if I want to continue to eat meat. Ignorance isn't always bliss, especially concerning where your food comes from and how its harvested. As a woman of my word, I woke up at 5:55 am and dragged myself out of bed. Yes, you read that correctly- 5:55 am to then spend 4 hours getting intimate with some chickens- something I was less than excited to do.
Maggie, Audrey, and I arrived at the farm close to 7 am where coffee and donuts were waiting for us. The day's processing volunteers were gathered and we were given the quick run down of how the day was going to work. There were 2 shifts, morning and afternoon. Some people just do one shift (that was us) but most went big and stayed all day. Though its not for me, I admire their commitment. (Warning: read with caution; the following might be unpleasant for some) Once we got down to the mobile chicken processing unit, a trailer with all the gizmo gadgets needed for this sort of activity. We were shown how to correctly remove the "vent" (the nice term for butt hole) of the chicken and remove the organs. Sticking your hand in a still warm chicken is a unique experience. The first one is a doosy but the process gets slightly less weird the more you do it.
There are a few new fine motor skills you hone while doing this sort of work. Its important not to break the bile sack while removing the intestines lest you want your chicken to be covered in bright green slime. Its also important that you remove all of the organs which means being able to see all 5 rib bones on each side when you give a quick but thorough glance inside. The heart, liver, and gizzard all go in their separate bucket brimming with ice so they can later be dolled out with each bird for soup stalk and other assorted recipes. In the 4 hours I spent in the trailer I cleaned countless chickens and 3 turkeys. I also witnessed a few turkeys make the ultimate sacrifice. Due to a health inspector visit that day, the only one who could do the deed was the farm owner. Normally volunteers can do the deed if they feel so inclined. I will never feel so inclined.
Was I happy I did it, nerves and all? Yes. Would I do it again? Doubtful.
(Now see, that wasn't so bad was it? Read carefree from here on out.)
I have been enjoying the past 2 months in my new city. People talk differently here, building relationships with people is a little slower than what I'm used to, and people have a tendency to be a little more frank than sweet as molasses manners I'm accustomed to in Virginia. Then it hit me: a wave of homesickness. It wasn't and isn't enough to send me on the next flight home- far from that. Its just a little reminder that you can take this girl out of Virginia, but you can't take Virginia out of her. Here are the triggers: bluegrass and country music; talk of cider and the mountains; the wonderful, and awful at the same time, Facebook posts of friends going back to JMU for Homecoming; and "you don't have an accent" response when people learn I'm from Virginia. What I wouldn't give to be spending my days hunched over picking assorted veggies and playing with 3 of the cutest kids in the world at Broadfork Farm...
And the mountain top moment of my recent ride...
So this happened.
On a bold whim, my father, the man who shall spend the rest of his life as a saint of sorts in my eyes, bought us World Series tickets. WORLD SERIES TICKETS! Again, WORLD SERIES TICKETS!
Its not everyday that you move to a city and the home team moves on to the Fall Classic. When you move to a town like Boston that lives and breathes baseball April through October, there's a certain electricity when the home team makes it to the post season. Everyone seems a bit chipper and I would venture to say its impossible to walk a block without seeing Red Sox anything. The city is overcome with pride.
The Sox grew some impressive beards, their good luck charms this season. The beards became synonymous with the Sox and all sorts of paraphernalia has the silhouettes of the variety of beards. They even have names. There's a hashtag: #getbeard. These people love their baseball.
Monday night my dad and I talked on the phone. Nothing unusual for us as we catch up about once or twice a week. After our chat we hung up and went about our business. No more than 45 seconds later my phone rings again. Its Dad. Excitement is in his voice and he prefaces our conversation with "I might be going crazy in my old age but..." Then he drops the bomb... "Would you want to go to the World Series?" After my momentary confusion, I uttered "What kind of question is that? Hell ya I'd want to go to the World Series." To make a long story short, he offered to buy me and "a friend" tickets if we could find some and it was under $1,000 for the both of us. Sounds impossible right? The Lord works in mysterious ways and had His hands all over this. I found 2 tickets for Grandstand 5, past the right field foul pole just past the warning track, for just more than our $1,000 budget.
It was my turn to drop the bomb. With all the passion and love I could muster I told my dad that if I were to go to the World Series, the only person I'd want by my side is him. If he's wasn't going, I wasn't going. He taught me the rules of the game and I grew to love it in his company.
WHO ELSE WOULD I TAKE TO THE GAME? No one. Not a chance that I would want to share this with anyone but my dad.
We've been through a lot together and our relationship hasn't always been the best but this brought us closer than we have been in years. We still have our differences and some work to do but this was a huge step in the right direction. Its something we can look back on, fondly, for the rest of our lives. We were there, together.
Its not everyday that you move to a city and the home team moves on to the Fall Classic. When you move to a town like Boston that lives and breathes baseball April through October, there's a certain electricity when the home team makes it to the post season. Everyone seems a bit chipper and I would venture to say its impossible to walk a block without seeing Red Sox anything. The city is overcome with pride.
The Sox grew some impressive beards, their good luck charms this season. The beards became synonymous with the Sox and all sorts of paraphernalia has the silhouettes of the variety of beards. They even have names. There's a hashtag: #getbeard. These people love their baseball.
Monday night my dad and I talked on the phone. Nothing unusual for us as we catch up about once or twice a week. After our chat we hung up and went about our business. No more than 45 seconds later my phone rings again. Its Dad. Excitement is in his voice and he prefaces our conversation with "I might be going crazy in my old age but..." Then he drops the bomb... "Would you want to go to the World Series?" After my momentary confusion, I uttered "What kind of question is that? Hell ya I'd want to go to the World Series." To make a long story short, he offered to buy me and "a friend" tickets if we could find some and it was under $1,000 for the both of us. Sounds impossible right? The Lord works in mysterious ways and had His hands all over this. I found 2 tickets for Grandstand 5, past the right field foul pole just past the warning track, for just more than our $1,000 budget.
It was my turn to drop the bomb. With all the passion and love I could muster I told my dad that if I were to go to the World Series, the only person I'd want by my side is him. If he's wasn't going, I wasn't going. He taught me the rules of the game and I grew to love it in his company.
WHO ELSE WOULD I TAKE TO THE GAME? No one. Not a chance that I would want to share this with anyone but my dad.
We've been through a lot together and our relationship hasn't always been the best but this brought us closer than we have been in years. We still have our differences and some work to do but this was a huge step in the right direction. Its something we can look back on, fondly, for the rest of our lives. We were there, together.
 |
| The only person I wanted to share the experience with... |
 |
| Nothing but a dream realized. |
I stood next to my father, surrounded by momentary friends we made in the seats around us, as the Red Sox won the 2013 World Series in Game 6 at Fenway. Not only was it a Series win but it was the first home Series clincher since 1918! 95 years! The last time the Sox won the World Series at home was just a few years after Fenway was built. How's that for a night at the ballpark?
Money spent for tickets, hats, ballpark food, T passes, and a hotel room: I don't even want to guess.
Going to a World Series game with my dad: PRICELESS
God does wonders and sends you down roads you never thought you'd travel. Did I ever think I'd spend a Saturday getting chickens ready for market? No. Did I ever think, in a million years, I'd ever get to see a World Series game? No, but I had hope that it might happen "someday."
Through the valleys and mountain tops, He is walking beside each of us. Some things are beyond reason or explanation- the pieces fit together like they were tailor made for each other. Something bigger than any of us is at work in big and small ways.
Money spent for tickets, hats, ballpark food, T passes, and a hotel room: I don't even want to guess.
Going to a World Series game with my dad: PRICELESS
God does wonders and sends you down roads you never thought you'd travel. Did I ever think I'd spend a Saturday getting chickens ready for market? No. Did I ever think, in a million years, I'd ever get to see a World Series game? No, but I had hope that it might happen "someday."
Through the valleys and mountain tops, He is walking beside each of us. Some things are beyond reason or explanation- the pieces fit together like they were tailor made for each other. Something bigger than any of us is at work in big and small ways.
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