My Unfortunate Psychosis/Abundance of Pretty Flowers -- Grand Junction, CO

I’m starting this post from the olive green, cookie encrusted (for which I take partial responsibility) couch at Main Street Bagels. As usual, the quaint downtown coffee shop is bustling with businessmen, bible readers, and toddling, hysterical persons under two feet tall. I am enjoying a decaf coffee called the Sleeping Goat (which I find particularly amusing), and doing my best to resist adding another layer of crumb to this couch by purchasing a tantalizing  gluten-free peanut butter cookie (for which I've developed a raging addiction).

June and July were my fleeting months of respite. I spent these sweltering summer days drinking too much coffee (even if it was decaf), putting my full-length play into proper format, resurrecting our themed dinner parties, feverishly designing yoga routines, and spending six hours a week looking after an exquisite flower garden. Regardless of how wonderful this laid-back lifestyle might sound, I was not at all satisfied. I am one of those obnoxious individuals who cannot relax unless they have absolutely no time to relax. I always feel like I ought to be doings something, making something, learning something, going somewhere, and if I am not doing all of these things simultaneously, I feel like I’m wasting my life and am riddled with guilt. My conscience frees me from this unfortunate psychosis only when I’ve successfully managed to overcrowd my planner for the foreseeable future. That said, from this month on, I’m delighted to announce that nearly every moment of every day shall be accounted for. 

I’ve recently taken a full-time position at Hands Up Homes for Youth, wherein I am a primary counselor for boys who have been charged with sexual abuse. At this facility, the convicted youth receive cognitive-behavioral and equine therapy until they are deemed safe to return  to the community. If they aren’t approved by the psychiatrist as harmless within two years of their arrival, the boys are either sent to jail or to another treatment facility. My job is to help the boys keep safe space, safe numbers, and to teach them how to respect boundaries. Hands Up Homes for Youth has a 70% success rate -- as in, 70% of the boys successfully complete their treatment and never re-offend. The work can be emotionally and mentally draining, and learning how some of these kids offended has given me very, very heavy boots, but the results make the labor more than worthwhile. I also thoroughly agree with the treatment method utilized by this center, and love that I get to be a part of it. Cognitive-behavioral therapy focuses on restructuring  flawed or negative thought processes. The boys aren't allowed to use words like "never", "but", "just", "always", "only", or any other words that minimize a situation or transfer blame. They aren't allowed to say "try". They must say, "I will do my best, and my best is good enough." These forbidden words are called "distortions", as they are seldom (look at me not saying "never") true. They are taught to take responsibility for their actions and a great deal of the program focuses on developing empathy. 

I love this type of work. I wish I could go into greater detail, but I very much doubt sharing detailed information is allowed.

My gardening job with Judy continues to delight. The ephemeral nature of flower gardening is an important grounding factor in my life, as I tend to think to the future so much that I overlook the present. Every day in Judy's garden is vastly different, and spending time watering, weeding, composting, and planting her backyard wonderland teaches me how to notice things. Little things. Things a hyperactive, head-in-the-clouds person like myself would be sure to miss under ordinary circumstances. 

But who wants to miss this?

Part of my job is dead-heading. This means I have to hunt out all the dead/wilting plants and cut them down to their most promising bud/leaf.

Judy's compost heap. Clippings from her plants and horse manure will eventually decompose into this:

Judy's mostly decomposed compost heap. Somewhere along the line, a tiny bit of bindweed infiltrated the wooden walls, and now the entire pile is infested with the invasive plant. Because of this, the ordinarily quick and painless procedure of spreading bucketfuls of decayed goodness over the lawn became painstakingly tedious. I have to sift through each handful, extracting the bindweed's telling, unwelcome white roots as I go.

I love that many of Judy's leaves are just as attractive as her flowers.

Judy has four cats. They all find immense satisfaction in rubbing up against me while I have sharp objects in my hands, or plopping down in front of me whilst I'm carrying something thorny/heavy.

I'm also enjoying comparing/contrasting gardening problems between the arid state of Colorado and the waterlogged country of Ireland. Unfortunately for me, they are so vastly different that nary a thing I learned in Ireland whilst WWOOFing has seemed to translate to my work here. In Ireland, we had to work to keep things dry. Rot and mildew were huge concerns to farmers. In Colorado, we have to bend over backwards to keep things wet. Judy's flowers wilt due to lack of water and they shrivel and die due to sunburn. 

Sunburn is unheard of in Ireland. FYI.

The weeds are also quite different. In Ireland, it was chickweed and nettle I had to keep a wary eye out for. 

In Colorado, bindweed and elm sprouts appear to be the flower gardener's primary nemeses.

Bindweed is exceptionally bothersome, as its roots can extend 20-30 feet into the earth and every root that gets broken off and blown away can grow into an entirely new plant.

I have begun planning for my next adventure. As of now, I hope to fly to Ireland in June of 2013, spend one month with George and Maria, one month in England, one month in Scotland, and then fly to the border of France and Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago with Alex. After that, I'll see where I am budget-wise and energy-wise. If both are faring moderately well, I'll stop by Southern Italy, Greece, and Turkey before I FINALLY move to Portland. Goodness.
Life changes so quickly. I'm learning to flow with it, though, and at this moment, I am absolutely thrilled with how the many quick changes have shaped my life.