4AM

The heater jolts to life because the temperature
dropped below seventy-two.

It doesn’t disturb the dog but startles me.
Every. Damn. Time.

The intermittent cars whiz by the dark turn
outside of my apartment building.

I can hear Rex breathing through his cold black nose.
I can hear Brad stumble to the bathroom.
I can hear the black coffee fill my
“Peace. Love. Books” mug.
Mudslide k-cup with soy and Splenda.

The busy Macbook on my lap gives me warmth,
as does the blanket plugged into the outlet next to me.

I get lost in the moment:
I edit a picture, 12 minutes.
I type up a blog post, 23 minutes.
I get lost in a memory…

Reading Facebook posts about a woman
who is now with the stars.

In a grey Jeep Cherokee
with a familiar stranger home from war.
“You look great,” he says quietly.

Full-time job offer.
Graduation plans.
E-mail to Grandma.

Before I know it, it’s 4AM.
My body is tired,
but my mind is wired.
This is peace.

---

I was recently inspired by a friend to write poetry again. Thanks, Em. This piece came to me because of her tweet about an all-nighter that she just pulled. Silly girl. ;) 

In my warm bed last night, reading the first chapter of The Happiness Project...at 1:12AM, I thought about what makes me happy about 4.I love 4AM.

I get that this is not a typical blog post, but 4AM is a personal journey for me, which I can only experience when my mind wins out over my body. It's a beautiful moment of  peace and quiet and really is a journey of sorts. 

Anyways, hope you enjoy.

Muddin'

I wasn't holding the keys to a brand new Chevrolet but to one with almost 100k miles on it...the truck Brad paid for in cash when he got home from Afghanistan. It's the truck that brought The Poops home. And the one that never transported The Poops again.

"I have leather interior. And my windows...they DON'T roll down..." Excuses.

Brad's stark white pavement princess is now accented with a beautiful reddish brown.

Muddin' when you leave off the "g,"has a certain air to it. A backwoods air. It brings to mind a blue collar job, a cold beer or several to celebrate the weekend, and a pretty woman in the passenger seat in cut off jeans. I'll say this right now, it was too damn cold for cut off jeans yesterday.

On a cabin-fever-inspired Sunday Drive, Brad and I took off for Reddish Knob to see the 360 degree views that we heard about.

We almost made it to the top.

But our guts told us to turn around. One lane roads covered in ice flanked by steep fiery plunges to imminent death just didn't set right with us. That's a picture from a safe-zone by the way. It was worse.

Ice, though, is how we discovered Plan B. The road less traveled by...the one with the mud...

Brad did the mud loop two or three times. He channeled his inner Tim-the-Tool-Man-Taylor. Manly man, arr arr arr.

And I giggled. Talk about stereotypes. Video is a video of a video...so not my greatest work. Technical difficulties.

When I thought we were finished this fun game, I asked Brad if I could drive. He said no and blamed "no one to call if we get stuck" and "no spare tire." I let it go. I was having too much fun to make something out of nothing.

He continued driving, away from the mud, and then he turned around to head back to the muddin' pit. He put the truck in park and got out. "Now I'm going to tell you what to do, you gotta listen to me."

"Hug the edge by that tree." and "Don't let off the gas when you're driving through the puddle." "This is important." I was a good student. I listened. I followed instructions.

When I arrived at the "finish line" after a gloriously (and very short) bumpy trip through the mud, I stepped on the brake and unbuckled my seatbelt.

A curious Brad asked, "Aren't you gonna go again?"

But I was good. I didn't want to press my luck. I once drove a car at 108 mph and got away with it, and more recently, I didn't get Brad's truck (or us) stuck in the middle of nowhere with less-than-desirable cell phone service.

I'd rather keep an undefeated record than push the boundaries of good taste.

The Harrisonburg Farmer's Market

in pictures :)

Harrisonburg Farmer's Market Website

As you can see, you can buy local ALL YEAR ROUND. Check out the market this Saturday. It opens at 9AM.

Thomas House Restaurant

It was Friday. Cue the singing angels...

and I was going out to lunch with two of my favorite people, my neighbor Emily and my boss Kathy. It just so happened that Emily was randomly chosen to be Kathy's teaching assistant this semester.  Long story short, we're one big happy family.

So...the Thomas House!

A wishing fountain filled with coins, women in skirts and sneakers serving lunch in old-order bonnets,  a counter lined with pies and cakes.

Thanks to the women of Dayton, we, three (Kathy, Emily, and me), dined on a very moderately priced Mennonite feast served cafeteria style.

Feast is not an understatement either. With several main courses and over 25 sides to choose from, I had some decisions to make.

Instead of being jealous of Emily's meal, I ordered the same thing that she did: a generous helping of green beans, an overflowing bowl of scalloped potatoes, a large spoonful of watergate salad, and a big ol' homemade cornbread muffin. The squash casserole looked good, but I figured I could just get it next time I came to Thomas House. Oh, trust me, there will be a next time...soon, too.

And can't forget! Kathy graciously let me try one of her beets. Verdict? I like beets.

Other side options included: mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, and many more (x 18 mores to be exact).

The wood paneling and China plates hanging on the Thomas House walls added to its quaint Southern charm. The post-Valentine's Day spirit in the restaurant was fading. The roses were wilted, and the balloons were deflated, but this place had plenty of character without those things. Poultry workers, painters, retired women, a mentor and her two mentees chatting about what the next chapter in the book of life might hold.

It was a lunch surrounded by the hardworking people of this gorgeous valley (minus the Poultry plants...one across the street), and it was beautiful because well...on top of everything else, it was Friday and I was spending a beautiful Friday with two most beautiful people.

Schedule a meal at Thomas House soon. Your stomach will thank me. Here are directions.

Cupcake Company Crazy!

Caramel Macchiato. Cookie Mint. Vanilla Vanilla. Red Velvet. Banana Cream. Dreamsicle. Buttered Rum. Raspberry Merlot. Chocolate Overload. If you're as overwhelmed as I am right now, keep calm.

Hop in your car, drive 3 miles east of Harrisonburg, and indulge in a box of cupcakes from Cupcake Company. But before you do, make sure this hidden gem is open.

My boss bought me four cupcakes on our way home from a photoshoot. Don't worry, I'm not a model.

I limited myself to one cupcake a day over the course of two days. It was torture. What was more torturous, though? Having to share half of the contents of my 4-cupcake box with my boyfriend. Sigh. Heavy sigh. Eyes welling with tears. It was awful. I can't talk about it.

I should have eaten the whole box on my way home from work, but then I would have had to go running for two hours, and let's be honest here. I hate running.

My Cupcakes

Day 1

Vanilla Caramel Macchiato. It's like if Starbucks and Betty Crocker had a love child. Delicious golden cake with a slight espresso flavor topped with a deliciously light caramel buttercream icing. Drizzled with a touch of caramel and topped with chocolate sprinkles.

Are you in your car yet? Don't read this and drive...it's not safe.

Day 2

Red Velvet. Luscious red velvet cake topped with a smooth and sweet cream cheese icing. The fondant heart would have melted my heart had my senses not been so consumed with the pure heaven I surrendered my tastebuds to.

And, no, I'm not being melodramatic. They're that good.

The one who shall not be named hogged the Cookie Mint and Vanilla Vanilla (left side of first photo). I would blog about them, too, but he robbed me of that privilege.

Oh well, I guess that means I just have to drive on back over and get me some more cupcakes. I could even bring friends. Emily Romito and Shauna Prentice, I'm talking specifically to you.

Big news ahead. :) 

Maybe I should start a Cupcake Company car pool from JMU? Charge my classmates in cupcakes??!!!! But wait...

They deliver. 432-CAKE.

You're welcome. 

Dear Adam,

You don't know me. I sat in the back of the room during your teleconference at JMU in awe of your story and your courage to share it. You made me laugh, you made me cry, you made me mad.

Unlike you, I don't have a personal connection to coal or mountaintop removal mining. I just have a connection to the mountains. They're my safe place, my playground, my home. I didn't even know what was happening until I googled "environmental legal problems" for a school assignment last year. From the search, I found the Earthjustice website. Then I found the Mountain Heroes photo petition.

And as I started to explore the Mountain Heroes website, I kept seeing the same man in the same highlighter yellow t-shirt all over the page. Then, in that same highlighter yellow t-shirt, I saw him again on YouTube. The date was September 15, 2012, just a few days after Larry's passing, and his video about his definition of a "hero" made me sob.

After that video, I wanted to see mountaintop removal mining for my self. I wanted to share in Larry's pain, so I booked a tour with Danny Chiotos. On my way to Kayford Mountain, I climbed a train car to see the coal inside. I even drove down a mine driveway before I had to back up real fast and go the other way. A coal truck was coming.

The day was foggy, so I couldn't be witness to what fueled Larry's fire, but that didn't stop me from listening. Listening to stories about Larry being a firecracker. Longing to have had just one moment with this brilliant man. I kind of understood his legacy as I hiked around the Kayford Mountain property, but you embody that legacy. Bull horn in your hand or not, you are heard.

Nothing will stick with me like your powerful narrative told over that spotty Skype connection.

You said, "Take what I said, be mad, fight for justice--social justice, economic justice. Urge senators and congressmen to sign onto legislation that would help Appalachia."

I remember every time I turn on a light, every time I plug in my iPod, or turn on my computer, it comes at a price to someone in your community. In the words of the wisest Kid President I know, it's time to do something. It's time for me to do something that makes Mother Nature want to dance.

So, I'll keep resisting. Even if it's just with words and an internet connection.

Thank you, 
Aimee

P.S. Elise, you did a great job!!

To my readers, check out Keeper of the Mountains today. Like now. 

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To the Dogs

In my Writing for Nonprofits class, I am no longer a student. My professor...no longer a teacher. I am a communications consultant for Harrisonburg Downtown Renaissance (HDR), and my professor is my mentor. And he's not only my mentor, but he's a mentor for the other twenty-one students in my class.

And there's your context. We are Sean McCarthy's brilliant experiment in what rhetoric and communications can add to service learning. 

Our first writing assignment in his class was to talk about a deliverable we wanted to produce for HDR in terms of the mnemonic HATCH, a concept proposed in a social media, social change book called The Dragonfly Effect. 

Anyways, according to this book, when you're focusing on raising awareness for your non-profit, or anything really, you're going to need to hatch goal that will make an impact. 

And to hatch this great idea, you need to understand your audience, you need to use short-term micro-goals to achieve long-term macro goals, and you need to identify metrics that will help evaluate your progress. You also need to create a goal that is clear and meaningful to you and your audience. 

My possible deliverable to create? A Dog Lover's Guide to Downtown. I mean, why not bring your best friend on your Sunday stroll in downtown Harrisonburg? After all, some restaurants even let you dine in with your dog as long as you're sitting outside. Vito's, though not downtown, is one of those restaurants. 

So, for example, thinking about my doggie deliverable, I, the designer, must think about the humanistic, actionable, testable, clarity, and happiness (HATCH) elements of this project. I'm still in the very early planning stages, so I decided for the purpose of this exercise my focus would be on the content of this downtown dog guide. 

Okay...

Humanistic - My audience, unfortunately, isn't dogs because dogs can't read my guide. My audience then is people that love dogs that can/are willing to bring their four-legged friend downtown.  

Actionable - I can make a list of the content that I want in my guide and break it up using appropriate headings. 

Testable - I can create a short survey about the guide's content that I can administer to the dog lovers of Harrisonburg, VA. Maybe my participants will have ideas that I didn't even think of! Hopefully, that type of thing would come out of the survey. 

Clarity - I can administer the survey to 20 people. That's a clear focus. 

Happiness??? - Dog: Person's best friend. 'Ruff said. ;)

Pretty cool homework assignment, right? I'd have to agree. 

Rex's Tail

In honor of all of the dog-related posts I've read on Facebook lately, I figured I'd show Rex and his journey a little love today.

Rex a.k.a "The Poops," our boxer mutt, was rescued from a hotel balcony in Charlotte, NC. He was bound to the rails with rope, which someone had tied around his poor little neck, belly, and paws. The weather was cold, and Rex was malnourished and dehydrated. Brad's mom found this then runt and took him into her home.

The little puppy from the balcony has since grown into a beautiful but neurotic dog.

We have put The Poops on Prozac and other drugs. We have taken him to acupressure treatments...desperate efforts to help calm his nerves.

Nerves that have driven him to "hide" under the bed for an hour because the baby gate fell down and made a loud noise.

Nerves that have also driven him to poop in my brand new car on the way to obedience lessons. Don't worry...no picture of that.

Some people would find these and Rex's other habits annoying. I mean, there's a 50-50 chance Rex will pee on his paw when he goes outside. And, well, he is destructive too.

He has destroyed bras, overflowing trash bags, figurines, t-shirts, dog beds, and remote controls. But the THINGS Rex has destroyed will never surpass the value of his loyalty and unconditional love.

Many of you know that The Poops came into our lives during a time of great transition. Brad had fallen in love with this crazy dog on his leave, and we decided that once Brad returned home from Afghanistan we would take this four-legged bundle of trouble off of Sande's hands.

WARNING! Moral of the story coming soon...get ready.

On our hike to Mary's Rock last week, Rex got more attention than ever before. Many different hiking parties commented on how pretty our pup was, and four of them made note of his curly tail.

After passing Brad and Rex, a female hiker in her best baby voice said, "Awww look at that tail," and used her fingers to draw an imaginary spiral. She hadn't noticed me at first because I was trailing behind my boys. But then she heard me laughing, and we laughed for a moment together.

Cute tail. Adorable tail. What a tail...we heard it all afternoon, but nothing was cuter than the three year old with the surprisingly deep and monotone voice who said, "What a beautiful dog you have." The boy was right. Rex is beautiful.

And his tail is well, special, like him. When The Poops is scared, the curl disappears in between his legs. When he wags it, it doesn't go back and forth but in a circle.

Rex doesn't realize he's not normal. He just knows that he's loved, and you know what? He's happy. Hussein Nishah, said to be the Fruit Loop in the bowl of Cheerios. Come to think of it, we're a family of Fruit Loops, and life couldn't be better.

Stylish, right?

Now, go rescue a dog. Or hug the one you have. And don't be afraid to be a Fruit Loop.

Pizza & Beer

I love food. And I love pairing food with yummy drinks. 

1. Coffee and a muffin. 
2. French fries dipped in milkshake. 
3. Wine and cheese.
4. Cereal with Silk. 
5. Pizza and beer!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In my opinion, those are five of the most epic food/drink pairings in the history of human sustenance. And after meeting a representative from Oskar Blues Brewery at the job fair, I craved option #5: pizza and beer. 

When I got home on Friday, I went on the search for Dale's Pale Ale, Oskar Blues' claim to fame. Thanks to the brilliant people at Oskar Blues, they have a handy dandy beer locator on their website. Check it out here. I stopped at Campus Corner first. They were out. 

I went to Midtowne Market next, and I saw a great omen in the window:

I grabbed a six-pack of Dale's Pale Ale and headed to work. Luckily, I moonlight at an Italian restaurant that makes excellent pizza. Just check out the reviews. So, around 8:30PM, when I finally got off work, I came home to enjoy a medium pepperoni and sausage pizza, and a beer or two. :)  

Most. epic. combination. ever. 

Dale's Pale Ale is a bold beer with a beautiful hoppy finish that goes down nice and sweet. It complimented the slightly spicy toppings on my ooey gooey cheese pizza perfectly. Needless to say, I know what's for dinner next Friday, and the Friday after that, and the Friday after that. And...the Friday after that. And maybe a Saturday and Wednesday here or there, too.

P.S. Most awesome thing about a great canned beer? It's easy to transport in a backpack. Needless to say, I know what I'll be drinking with my Ramen noodles during Brad and I's next backpacking trip. 

Go out buy some Oskar Blues! I already know some who have, and they've been very HOPPY with their purchase. ;)

Malaprop's

When I arrived at Malaprop's Bookstore/Cafe I checked my large backpack at the counter like the sign on the door told me to do.

The bookseller gave me a laminated picture of Neil Gaiman, author of Coraline and American Gods, and attached another copy of the same picture to my backpack.

The last time I had checked my backpack was at the Art Institute of Chicago. The simple act of surrendering my backpack to a stranger brought back so many memories.

I walked around the store sans backpack, wanting to buy everything in it. I had recently downloaded The Book Thief for my Nook, so I wasn't in the market for a new book per say. But, I mean, I buy books like some people buy shoes. Anymore, though, I just buy the books I can download. I'm probably a failure in Malaprop's eyes because I love my Nook...a lot. And Barnes and Nobles is the Fox Books to Malaprop's Shop Around the Corner. If you don't get that reference, go rent You've Got Mail immediately.

Malaprop's had a local charm, and I can see my future Asheville-resident self browsing its shelves later this year. I loved the section titles: They had the typical fiction and non-fiction sections, but they also had regional fiction and regional non-fiction sections. They had a banned books section, and a self-sufficiency farming section. Even an Appalachian cooking section.

What I loved most, though, was the shelves dedicated to Malaprop's staff favorites. A person's personality really shines through the books he or she enjoys! My favorites are: To Kill a Mockingbird, Fried Green Tomatoes at Whistle Stop Cafe, The Help, The Art of Racing in the Rain, and Into the Wild. For a moment, just think about your favorite books, and what they may say about you.

I could have spent hours in Malaprop's, but I was hungry. It was 4:30PM, and I hadn't eaten a thing all day.

I couldn't leave without buying something, though, it just didn't feel right, so I settled on knickknacks: a photo of the outside of Malaprop's, which I put in my postcard basket as soon as I got home; an "Asheville Freak" sticker, which is now proudly displayed on my computer; and a Malaprop's coffee cup.

I didn't mean to go to Malaprop's. I stumbled upon it when I was walking around downtown. I remember reading about the store when Googling fun stuff about Asheville, but I never wrote down the address. I found it because I wandered without being lost. And on a coffee cup in that store I found a version of myself.

A girl with a braid in her hair reading a book slumped down in a chair, which she had resting on the two back legs. The girl had one foot dangling, another kicked up, and a piping cup of hot coffee on the ground next to her. It's the Malaprop's logo, and I took it as yet another sign that Asheville is it. The front of the cup said, "Peace. Love. Books." How Aim, right?

I saved the free cup of coffee coupon that I got for purchasing the cup for the next time I'm in Asheville. I hate wasting free things, so it's my excuse to go back soon. Maybe I should have checked for an expiration date, though?