Ok, so I'm not a logger yet. I've been more of a wwoofer this past week. BUT BUT BUT tonight at six I leave for the Marlborough Sounds to jump start my logging career. It'll only be a two-week long career at the moment because dad comes in two weeks, but one never knows where leads like this will take me. Carolyn and I spent the last week doing farmy things and making-over Thomas' room and watching him play rugby. Thursday marked 6 days since I'd seen Maggie and in a miraculous surprise she just walked in the kitchen while I was cooking dinner that night! I was so surprised that I forgot to smile; instead I went with a disgusted "who the hell do you think you are" sort of look. Then my brain caught up and we hugged and talked for 3 days straight. It was great. I didn't realize how much I only felt half-present. The Lentz fam mailed Carolyn a bunch of Martha Steward Living magazines and we spent an inordinate amount of time studying their pages, memorizing tricks to add seasonal spice to our homes this fall and lusting after the cake recipes. It was actually sort of weird how into it I was. But I mean, pumpkin vases?! Christmas light jack-o-lanterns?! Snow votives?!!? Score. I drove Mags to the airport this morning for her commute to Wellington to get her to work on time. It was so worth being up for sunrise because the sky was cloudy pink with a bright rainbow trapped in the pink that made it an illuminated hot pink streak in the sky. Words don't work as well as eyes, in cases such as these.

One night this week Thomas took me on my first pig hunt! Whoa, right?! He was just going one evening and I think he was joking when he invited me, but I ended up going, so careful when you joke with me because I might take you too seriously. We went up to this ridge near their house and the drive there was a four-wheel drive adventure that was sort of an appetizer to the redneck-badass fun. We went through one padlocked gate to get there and when I locked it after us Thomas seemed to disapprove. When I offered to get out and leave it unlocked he just mumbled something about, "no she'll be right, it was just in case we need to get out of here in a hurry." He didn't elaborate on why we'd need to get out in such a hurry, but it gave me a little extra kick of fear to get me started. Thomas gave me no instruction ahead of time, but sometimes he'd just hold up a hand to get me to shut up and listen. We took two of his dogs and went up to a hill top and then just sat under the trees with the dogs, just listening, waiting for it to get totally dark. After a few minutes the dogs started freaking out and we let them off their ropes and they shot away into the woods. Then we got ready to run and listened for their barks. They did manage to bail a pig and brought it close enough for us to chase it at one point, but we didn't get there in time, probably on account of the "bloody slow yank" trailing behind. But I think it was great fun because we didn't catch anything. I didn't have to see how I'd respond to the trauma of actually killing something, and instead I got to run through the woods at night with a gun slung over my shoulder, which is neither something I've done, nor is it something I could have imagined myself doing a year ago. Eventually the dogs got too far away and the barking died down and we headed back to the car and waited. Thomas called them and whistled for them and sure enough, about 15 minutes later Blaise hobbled back. Then we drove down the main road with me holding tracking gear out the window and listened for the beep that meant Swazi was somewhere near by and eventually she found us, too. It was so cool to actually use my ears. So much of it was just hard listening and I can't think of another time that I've had to practice being so quiet or so aware of exercising my hearing. I'd do it again, at least until we actually kill something and I scream and cry and commit myself to veganism.

Thank you Carolyn for inviting me back! Thank you Thomas for taking me hunting! Thank you Maggie for visiting! Thank you sky for pink sunrise rainbows! Thank you Martha for the handy home-making tips! Thank you Wayne for your abundance of laugh lines around your eyes! Thank you world for being so full of life and surprise!

I leave for Carolyn's tomorrow! I'm going to go be a logger! What? I can't explain how the things in my life happen, but they keep happening! This means a break in the adventures of Maggie and Robin as an item. You know, like a couple. Like a committed couple. So I kiss that goodbye, and show you how cool we are:
I had a great week with the girls. One night we went out to dinner in celebration of...I don't know...friendship? We turned Marocka into a place to share a bottle of wine and dance the night away, which was way more fun than using it to sell clothes! It also explains why the owners might have been hesitant to hire a 23 year old manager. Don't worry, everything is perfectly in tact and they'll never, ever do better than Maggie. Nor will I, as it turns out.

Did I tell you that I got fired from Greenpeace? I don't think I've written that yet. I got fired from Greenpeace. First few minutes of my last morning were filled with a man threatening to slap me in the face if I said one more word to him, which didn't keep me loving the job. The thing is, I didn't meet my weekly quota. Nor did anyone I got hired with, so we all joined the ranks of Wellington's unemployed again. It makes sense that Greenpeace only gives you a week to make the quota because they are a nonprofit and can never afford to employ fundlosers. However, none of us realized that the one week was our limit, so we were all a bit surprised to receive the "you can't continue on" phone call after work Friday. I got another day of chance, but it didn't work out. So...

So, given that I only have a month until Dad comes for a month, (yay!) by the time I get a job it would be just about time to give my two weeks notice. Meanwhile Wellington's gloomy frigidity isn't doing me any favors while I hunt for jobs and wait for my lovely roommates to get home. Instead, I'm going to head to Carolyn's next week for the 3 weeks until Dad arrives, then travel with him. I'm so excited for his trip! I'm completely unexcited about the fact of leaving Maggie, but it doesn't exactly make sense for me to be here right now. I won't talk about the leaving Maggie part because then I'll cry on my computer. Right after I decided to go Maggie and I watched Brokedown Palace, in which the girls say the exact words, "at least we're together," in trying to cope with their unfortunate traveling situation. Then we judged the one girl for abandoning her friend and I tried hard to ignore the parallels. On the bright side, Wellington is completely unlike Thai prison. So there's that!

My home life is wonderful when the girls are home, despite its remarkable resemblance to a retirement home. One day Caroline and I were both at home, but both too cold and tired to leave our beds, so we stayed in our own separate bedrooms reading our books and texting each other with important updates. Another night we were all sitting in the living room passing around a hot water bottle as others of our generation might pass around cigarettes or beer. The ultimate sign of our "age" came out last night while trying to plan which night we can all have dinner together before I leave. Tuesday seemed the clear choice, but Eva was extremely hesitant on the basis that she has to work on Wednesday. After a tempt at feigned understanding, Caroline said, "so you can't go out to dinner on Tuesday because you have to work the next morning??" She was afraid of being up too late. As a compromise we've agreed to find an early bird special.

The other big news is that Kichi, the dog we take care of who has no idea he is a dog, surprised us all. He always sleeps on the couch, smearing his hair and his smell all over it so as to transform the couch into an enlarged, lifeless version of himself. When we all are in the living room, we are usually annoyed with him for taking up a valuable seat, and we try in vain to get him to lie on the floor. We've been trying to teach him how to lie on the floor for weeks now with no signs of progress. Until last night. Caroline and I were crammed on the couch with him watching a movie and suddenly, with no apparent impetus, he woke up, jumped down, and fell fast asleep on the floor. We had to pause the movie to gape. We still can't understand it, but it felt like progress.

Off to Carolyn's soon, though I can't remember the last time my "plan" determined my actions, so stay tuned for infinite opportunities for surprise.