Illegality

When I was going through the painful process of packing my painfully small pack I made sure to make room for one thing.  A dress.  Not just any dress but the dress and I put the emphasis on the because it is the last dress that I knew Stelth really liked.  Not only liked but liked on me.  I made room for it because somewhere deep down I thought in the perfect world (the one that I was going to jump into in a matter of days) at just the right moment, I would be wearing that dress in some crazy country half way around the world and I would turn around and he would show up.  It would be perfect.

Today, while doing my normal milking routine, I thought about what I was going to pack in a month when I leave the farm.  I have acquired a few new t-shirts, a pair of pants, and a skirt......you get the point.  Do I still make room for the dress?  I like the dress.  I bought the damn thing.  So, it is not a matter of whether or not I actually like it or not.  It is an issue of whether or not I am going to allow myself to look around each corner as though something should be standing there.  

My Aunt Renee asked my mom when I was coming home to finish school.  I am sure many people are asking when I am coming home.  Well, here is my answer:

It is three months in, I am an illegal resident of the Czech Republic, I haven't even made it all the way around Europe and for those of you who are educated on global proportions, that is a small portion of the world.  I don't know whether or not I am coming home and I don't know whether or not I am packing the damn dress. 

Cultural Differences

This morning I was woken up by the mother of Petr at 6:00 in the morning asking what I wanted for breakfast.  I looked up at her with hazy eyes, saw her smile widely at me and walk away laughing out loud.  Petr rolled over which forced me to roll over because if one person rolls over in a twin bed while sharing it with another the other must roll over unless they want to fall out of the bed.  I opened my eyes and started laughing too.  There were Petr's two older brothers sleeping in a bunk bed three feet away.  Best morning ever.  

Last night was the first night I escaped the unending property line of my home in Habří.  Karel, Zuzana, and the girls went to Holland for the week and I have had the house to myself.  So, yesterday after work I called Petr up to hang out.  His brother Paul, who actually speaks English after working in Ireland for a year and half, picked me up and took me to Strážek, which is a neighboring town of Habří and also where all the guys live.  It was so great.  We all hung out at the pub, laughed, played foosball, drank beer.  It was such a relief to hang out with middle class, average human beings of the Czech Republic.  I had no reason to go home and Petr and Paul assured me it would be fine to stay at theirs.  We got there, all a little slurred at that point in the night, and I was marched right upstairs where Petr's father stood in the hallway.  He began saying something to me but didn't have the chance to finish before Petr told him that I didn't speak Czech.  His dad gave me a broad smile and seemed very pleased that his sons had brought home a nice American girl.  When I walked into the bedroom I then realized that the three of us and Petr's other older brother were all sleeping in the same room.  And here is where the cultural difference thing comes in.  Remember Kristine from Latvia and the orgasmic presentation she so readily and casually brought upon my life.....

Well, I think it is a general rule, in my mind at least, that if you are sleeping in a small room with a bunch of other people the last thing that would come into any of their minds is the possibility that anyone will be having sex.  Not here.  I hop into handmedown pajamas from someone's drawer and witness one brother say something along the lines of "Oh, you are having a girl sleep over?  Here are some condoms....good night"  WHAT?!  How is this possible?  Did he literally hand his little brother condoms and lie down in the bed to go to sleep three feet away?!  So weird.  

Anyways.  Waking up to three boys alternating farts in the morning (there is no place like feeling like you are at home) and sitting down at the kitchen table being poked and questioned about my whereabouts etc.  It was all so fabulous.  Petr's family was like a breath of fresh air.  His mother was stunning and stunned and such an admirable woman living in a house with five men.  Oh wait I have done that...yep, didn't make it.  His youngest brother, who was around seven or eight, was the cutest of them all, and I can't wait to go back.  

As for the farm.  I came back early this morning and ditched the rake for a paintbrush.  I will be staining picket fences for the rest of my life here.  

Unloved Parts

The rake and I trudged deeper waters today.  If you are like me, then the world "algae" brings to mind a few adjectives.  Gooey, green, slimy, smelly.......?  Not here it doesn't.  Algae, in the land of the pond, here in Habří, is like a neverending glob of synthetic green hair.  It runs deep down to the roots of plants to suck out all of the nitrogen.  It prevents staring at pebbles and provokes no one into the water for fear of some hidden monster underneath.  Clean that out?  Sheeeeet man.  I scratch my head and look at the "pond".  The "pond" is a series of three small swimming pools that are connected by a stream and that cover about the same area as my cult de sac at home.  Then all of a sudden a little hint of glee and excitement ran through my own stream of blood.  A small picture of fly fisherman's coveralls came into my mind.  They were hanging in one of the workshops.  I very well knew that they were a Two Ton Tilly size too big but the joy that I could see unfolding in the future was insurmountable.  I ran in to the workshop, slipped into my new outfit, and trotted across the worksite with the sound of the cats call egging me on.  Hours and hours of detangling and hauling out huge masses of the algae.  wrestling with the roots and the pebbles.  It was like weeding underwater.  Only more fun.  My legs were suctioned and chilled, my hands were pruney, the algae was beastly as ever and never seemed to stop from appearing.  Lunch at twelve was especially silly with the boys today.  As I slipped out of my wonder suit I was in for a new sort of wrestling.

Somehow after being misled by the dictionary Petr and I wrested over it.  Luckily for me, we were pretty equally matched.  He was deathly ticklish and it made up for me being, well, a girl.  While we both ended up in the recycling bin we admired how the light shown on us through different variants of plastics and somehow managed to get back to work.  

The weekend began when Jitka was tucked away in the barn and all was cleaned and put away.  It ends when my alarm goes off in the morning to begin the morning milking once again.  I think I will dream of some far off farm boy tonight and imagine him harvesting the ripe beets of the future.  Or so I hope anyways.

Sorry for such a sloppy post.  

on the side

bee sting.

call her mistress

press her up against the wall

she will still have you

she will keep you from falling

for you will never resist

the secrecy of her strand of pearls.

call her mistress.

look too deep and

you will forget how to swim

language?

what language?

no words you find

in whatever language you choose

will keep you at bay

from calling out to her

call her mistress

she is always better

than your own

whether you have one or not

she will sting when she pleases

a woman has needs

the longer they are held back

the bigger the white welt

around the bite will be.

call her bee

follow her beat

submit to the sweetness of her beet.

dont try to save her from it

she knows the price to pay

sometimes the sting

is worth the fate.

Rake relationship.

Wake up.  The song is singing.  It is time to wake up.  Open your eyes.  Sit up.  Eat breakfast before the girls wake up.  Eat in peace.  Sip the mornings coffee in silence enough to hear it warm you.  Don't be late.  You are early.  Waste time.  Pace around.  Don't pace around.  You are becoming your biodad.  Take a walk.  Walk to the lake.  Take the coffee.  You forgot the coffee.  Go back and get the coffee.  Dobrý den!  Smile.  Just smile.  Good morning good morning.  God you miss America where everyone minds there own business in the morning and doesn't care to wish everyone they see a good one.  Breath.  Dobrý den!  Keep going.  The further you go the less good mornings.  45 minutes till work.  You can hear the sons of suburbia complain at their fates of mowing the lawn.  laugh.  If only you could plop them into the middle of your day.  Hill after hill of beautiful land.  It is all yours and it is all yours to tend to.  He cuts the grass, you rake the grass.  This is not an afternoon of tending to the grass.  This is a lifetimes work fending back the mane of he earth.  It may take over.  Rake the grass.  Rake the grass.  Make nice piles.  Piles and Piles.  Why don't we pick up the piles as we go?  That is tomorrows days work.  Rake the piles.  You love this rake.  It is a light wooden rake.  So primitive.  You would like a rake like this someday.  Perfect for raking up grass.  You imagine leaves too.  One long shaft that splits at the end.  The two ends peg into a long rectangular skinny piece of wood.  The wood as 10 or so pegs that poke in from the top.  Rake.  There is your rake.  Rake the grass.  Rake the daisies that seem to not make the cut on the worthwhile weeds list.  Ignore your thumb.  It wont be numb for that long.  Why only the let thumb?  Is it because you are right handed?  Watch out near the fence.  The ostriches might stick their long necks through the fence and nip you.  You don't want to get nipped.  That would be embarrassing.  then all the guys would laugh at you.  What funny animals.  They prance around like big awkward birds.  Makes sense.  They are big awkward birds.  Has a comedian imitated and ostrich yet?  One should.  That would be hilarious.  Rake the grass.  Whew.  We finished this plot.  What Mirek?  Oh.  Yea.  You look over at the next plot.  Switch your arms more often.  You don't want one arm to be bulging do you?  No.  Even it out.  Make the most of your workouts during the day.  AHHHHH!  You broke the rake.  How could you break the rake?  Walk in shame past all the guys.  The laugh at you.  You broke the rake.  How strong you are they all say.  You think it was just nature fighting back.  Pepa.  The rake.  It is broken.  He laughs too.  You think he will find you another one and say what a pity.  This rake is broken.  It is useless now.  You  miss it already.  Your wooden rake.  He eyes it and takes it into is wonder world of wood and sawdust and tools.  You wish you could work with him in there all day.  How would he know?  He drills out the split begs, he saws the end of the shaft.  He re sticks them in with some black gooey tar.  He nails them for support.  He hands it back to you with a twinkle in his eye.  Nothing is more incredible than seeing a man think to take something apart and fix it before throwing it out or rejecting it.  I need a piano key he thinks to himself.  I will make my own.  This lighter is broken you watch him think.  Maybe I will take it apart and see what is wrong with it.  Her rake is broken.  I will give it life again.  Such romance.  Rake.  Rake. Rake.  Done?  Oh.  It is five.  Milking.  Stop raking.  Start milking.  Always put hot water through the tubes first.  Don't forget.  That part is for the cow.  Get the one for the sheep.  This tube goes there.  The other one goes here.  Make sure the jug is secure.  Don't forget to plug it in.  Is there food in the spinny thing?  The sheep wont come if there isn't food.  Ready?  Ready.  Open the gate.  Start spinning.  One sheep.  Two sheep.  Five sheep.  All locked in eating.  Start milking.  Wipe the nipples with the cloth.  One cloth per utter.  Start milking.  Massage.  Massage.  Massage.  Pretend you are a lamb.  Pull a little.  Massage.  Next sheep.  Wipe.  Massage.  Next sheep.  Wipe.  Massage.  Next sheep.  Tic!  Ew.  Get the tick.  Ew. EW.  EW!  You hate these F-ing tics.  Next sheep.  Wipe.  Massage.  Phew.  turn it off.  Unhook all of the tubes.  Take it all into the smelly milking room.  Strain the milk into another jug.  Wash the first jug.  Rinse the lid.  Put the milk in the fridge.  Rinse out the tubes.  Connect the cow tubs.  Always run water in  them first.  Jitka!  Go get Jitka.  She comes.  You love milking Jitka.  The milk just comes.  So easy.  You love Jitka.  She is pregnant.  You put your ear to her belly as you are milking.  Can you here it?  No.  That was a belly rumble.  Put Jitka back in the barn.  Wash out the tubs.  Strain the milk.  Put it into the fridge.  Wash out the tubs.  Ahoj.  Ahoj.  It is already 8.  Get some food.  Eat some food.  Drink some coffee.  Go up to the loft.  Pull out Czech step by step.  Study.  Declension.  Masculine.  Feminine.  Dative.  Accusative.  Tvůj.  Ah.  Ja.  ty. on. ona. ono. my. vy. oni. ony. ono.  Was that right?  Listen to some music.  Do some jumping jacks.  Do some situps.  Do some of those things that you hate that Levi always made you do.  Do some more jumping jacks.  Let your head hit the pillow.  

rake, rake, rake.......

once upon a time.

My Dad had this obsession with carving back this dirt that circled half of the "driveway".  When Stelth and I were living with him we every once and a while would get ambitious to get one of his projects done.  One day we worked for hours and hours on chipping away at the dirt, shoveling it into a wheelbarrow, and hauling it off into "the hole" at the other end.  We worked, we sweated, we made funny noises when the dirt fought back, and we hoorayed each other when some extra show of strength was found as the hours went bye.  There is something about that day that was really great.  When two people who are very capable and inspired to get something done they often fight when they have to do it together.  Something as easy as making a rabbit box can turn into a divorce before marriage because one design is better than the other and the others way of screwing in screws, screws with the others head.  The other really special thing about that great accomplishment of carving back a significant amount of dirt and filling most of the hole, was that in my mind, I never had to do it again.  There is something so satisfying about doing something really hard and at the same time disillusioning yourself into thinking you never have to go through it a second time.

Today, Mirek and I, did just that.  We carved away at dirt for hours and filled a flipping hole.  Mirek is my dubbed work partner.  Aleš, who seems to be the right hand man of the right hand man (Karel, my essential boss, has Robert who is basically the business manager, and then Aleš, who helps distribute orders as well as follow them) is what I have come to know as the "bitch" of the operation.  Somehow, he sucked some ass and because of it he gets to tell everyone who has to do what.  Everyone being myself, Petr, and Mirek whom are both young guys working for the summer.  Aleš has not only begun to literally separate Petr and I (class case scenario of we have a lot of fun and Aleš doesn't like it), he has started to assign himself to evening milking so he can be weird and stare at me while I massage sheep tits.  The good thing is most jobs need two people and because Aleš does a lot of the tractor work (which does not require two people), Mirek and I get to do a lot of work together.  In short, we shave bark from freshly cut planks of wood, we evenly distribute giant mounds of mulch for miles on end, and we fill holes with dirt.  Oh yea, today we moved a bunch of fence posts too.  In the afternoon I clean out the horse stables and then we move onto milking etc.  Poor Petr is stuck by himself all day removing giant staples for the old fence posts which go for miles.  We are like kids getting away with anything we can.  Today we all met in the woods and enjoyed each others company until we heard a tractor off in the distance and scattered accordingly.  

I was near meltdown today to a point where I almost excused myself.  I have now become educated on what a tic sucking the blood of sheep looks like and how to take care of it.  Fortunately, for everyone else, they never see them and don't really care.  Unfortunately, for me, I see them from ten feet away and can't stomach the idea of letting it go.  I can barely stomach removing the sons of bitches but I would rather get them off than not.  It has become traumatizing to the point that I can't focus on milking because I am freaking out about seeing tics and getting them off.  It is unnerving and I don't know what is best.  Letting myself ignore them and continue to feed off of the ladies I have somehow bonded with or let them eat away at my ability to stay sane while going through the process of removing an invasive bug from an animals flesh.  Ew.  Ick.  Bleh.  For those of you who went through Outdoor Education in Junior High and had to watch a girl remove larva that was multiplying and dwelling in her flesh while lost in the amazon.....this is basically my new found equivalent.  I was near tears tonight.  Everything was wrong.  I hated milking.  I hated that these damn sheep were putting up a fuss when I was relieving their swollen utters and removing blood sucking bugs from their bellies, and I was pissed that I got so attached in the first place.  

The day was tapped off with a beer from the milk fridge and then Mirek pulled out his motor bike to go home.  He gave me a look that said "hop on?"  and shit, I did.  I am the stupidest girl in the fucking world.  I jumped onto the back of a motor bike thinking that I was going on a neighborhood ride with flip flops on and no helmet!!  The moment he spun dirt from behind my stomach lurched and all I could do was be ok with dying because it was my damn decision in the first place.  Two minutes later we are doing a wheelie at top speed through cow pastures and I wanted to die.  I would complain that he didn't understand "slow the fuck down" but I think my screams produced a universal language.  I have never been so afraid that I could actually die.  I was thinking that at any moment he was going to overestimate BRINGING US UP ONTO ONE TIRE and I was going to be flat on my back dead.  I felt naked and the wind was stripping me to the bones.  NE NE NE PROSÍM PROSÍM PROSÍM.  Nothing could have stopped him, I was his to take for a ride and he was to do it to the fullest.  We did make it back alive.  Tears were forming in my eyes because they realized that now was the first opportunity that they could respond to such speed swishing by them and I plopped myself face down onto the ground.  "Dobře?" Mirek asked me beaming with satisfaction.  "Ne dobře......ale moz dobře" was all I could muster and a pitiful breath towards the earth.  Not good.......but VERY good.  What a thrill.  

The weekend is here and I am here.  Karel and the girls went camping and I will milk twice a day and have the rest of the days to myself.  I think I will enjoy it with Czech step by step in hand and long walks.

and more milking

I am now officially the evening milker.  Every night at 5:30 I follow the sounds of 32 or so sheep and Jitka (the cow) pattering away to have their very full udders washed, massaged, and firmly suckled on by a nursing machine.  I of course, seem to get the least amount of fuss from theses mamas.  While the men scratch their heads in puzzlement I can't help but think to myself that it is because of the nature in the massaging.  I genuinely think about how I would want to be massaged if I had udders and which methods would provoke me to produce/release my milk.  I also can't help but create some sort of correlation with my own utters....let's just call them breasts, shall we?  Yes, while it doesn't come to mind all of the time, I think every woman can admit that it feels pretty damn good to rub their own breasts (oh, ok, to have them rubbed by someone else too...) and remind themselves of all of the precious and hidden tissues and rifts.

Without going into great detail of how the process of milking sheep goes (I am sure you are all capable of putting things together), basically, we at the farm need two people to run the daily milking twice a day.  One to operate the nursing machine vaccuumy thingy (me)  and another to help get all of the sheep onto a turning mechanism that locks them into eating as they are nursed.  Generally, or so far at least, I attract a crowd of two or three extras that like to stand around and watch/smoke cigarettes/make jokes/teach me Czech etc.....  It turns into a milking party where everyone is laughing and enjoying watching tits getting sucked on by two plastic nipples while I massage them all the while.  So strange this life.  Tonight was especially fun when one boy, Petr, decided to test the waters with his English.  It was half bravery and half tipsiness.  It is his 18 birthday today and he got to enjoy it with beer in hand all day.  The nice thing about living on a farm with nice, attractive farm boys that don't speak any English is the few things they do spit out when they give it a go.  "You have a beautiful face", "I like you smile very much", and "Your butt is very good".  ALL compliments!!  Such a nice boy that Petr.  After the milking was over I thought I was going to be brought to do some more work when Aleš waved me over to join him to go on the tractor.  I assumed there was another job to be done but as he grabbed two beers out of the milk fridge and a pocket dictionary I didn't know what to expect.  My expectations, whatever they may have been, were surpassed.  Aleš drove me for about 15 minutes beyond the land that I have come to know and into the land that I could see in the distance, knew was ours, but hadn't yet been able to explore.  It was incredible.  We sat in an open John Deer tractor overlooking a beautiful scape drinking beer and speaking whatever languages we could pull out of our asses.  Aleš really just wanted to show me our other cows.  The ones we don't use for milking.....yup, that is right, meat.  Oh well.  It is life and at least I know where the meat I eat comes from and who took care of it and even who killed it.  

My true love of the farm is Josef.  We call him Pepa which means grandfather and well....he is the grandfather of the farm.  He also is the only real man on the farm as far as I am concerned and the only one that doesn't treat me like a farm boy treats an animal.  Today I was cleaning out the horse stables and he appeared with a beer (these guys always pull beer out from somewhere) and a cigarette, right when it started to down pour.  We watched the rain sweep the land and somehow managed to continue on with our book worthy romanticism.  We always find each other late at night in the yard and I have come to know him as my true friend.  We don't use many words which hasn't mattered yet, we always seem to understand each other, and when we do they are short and to the point.  Perfect.  We have started rituals; coffee, cigarettes, beer, and lots of head nods and smiles.  I am enjoying this life of being such a big part of how I survive.  Working to provide for myself, others, and the land and seeing it all around me.  From the wool that I wash and dye and spin to make yarn, to the milk that I milk and make into cheese.

I hope you are all well.  Think of me in green hills with purple suns setting in the distance.  Yes, you just heard a cow bell ring.  

on the side

The lights are dark here.

Not dark enough to swallow the grinding of your teeth

In the night I can hear your breath

and imagine that it deports itself from the bed.

I miss the silent snores of nights slept alone.

The lights are brighter here.

They tilt small reflections from some source unknown.

I connect the dots and sing along with songs of dinosaurs.

A kite slips from a side and I watch it dance up into the sky.

As if we never knew each other.

My back finds friends among blades of wet grass.

Pressed beneath me.

The lights are blinding now

as I sway my hips and shake my head back and forth to the beat.

The beat.  They dance to the beat.  One comes closer.

Not close enough.

When you dance in a crowd you are never alone.

Yet loins cry out to loins for closer company.

The lights here have gone.

I am left to watch grey become more grey

and the motion of black is now familiar.

I remember the times when a light in the darkness

was held for a while

like a mother and child

I will hold you a while.

I remember the times when I secretly sang you to sleep

in fear that you might hear what I was singing.

com on and linger here

a little longer here

a little longer here

I want to linger

a little longer 

I want to linger here with you.

......we will rock on the water

I flick the switch and the lights blink into existence.

like milking sheep

Today I milked 32 sheep.

That is 64 nipples.

I missed you for 60 of them.

I am learning Czech.

Nemůžu bez tebe žít.

I guess I can but why?

It is nice to cry at inappropriate times.

All by your lonesome of course.