Proof of the Pink Fish

today, i spent the first part of my morning, i.e. 6:45-7:50, digging trenches reminiscent of those used in World War I. Why, you ask? I willingly had volunteered myself to aid the students at the Agricultural experimental station with their garden, and despite last night's heavy rain, we decided to build raised beds. Mine snaked from left to right, only done intentionally after realizing my initial mispattern. The bed next to me, dug by John Gottula, a well spoken, slightly lisp-laden and curly haired virus researcher, veered left. Mary, a fellow summer scholar plagued by a variety of chronic problems including exercise induced asthma, built the third. Hers was by far the smallest and while the rows John and I were devastating would grow ten feet, her row would only grow one. I am glad that we do not do actual farming. they were very ugly rows.

Today was also spent in a variety of head-nodding (as in sleep not affirmation) safety training sessions. The first was presented by a large man with a sleeveless shirt that managed to accentuate rather than obscure his tremendous farms tan and prolific bodily hair. While my friend tyler described his skin as "hide"or "like leather" i was thinking absent-mindedly of a rhinoceros and which aspect of his body was most impressive. Before the end of the training session i had managed to challenge this man to a fight, which my professor asserted i would lose. The afternoon was spent with a peculiar asian man who gave us cookies talking about lab and chemical safety. I had to bear the embarrassment of falling asleep a total of 40 times during the talk, and found, yet again, that i was being ridiculed by the presenter.

I am honestly having trouble about what to say. I lost my phone; I look forward everyday to seeing Carly and seizing the opportunity to speak more. I am so pleased to have my roomates, though one, Nick (we had previously battled over a mysterious tomato) insists on not speaking to me and sigh, actually quite like a rhinoceros, every morning. and exclaiming "jesus Christ"every morning, perpetually disturbing my morning "thinking hour". I could talk about my running, or the beautiful asain couple i saw down by the lake that gave me butterflies as i said good-bye to them. I could talk about alot of things. I, of course, must go on to something else, but you would have trouble finding someone who finds it such a pleasure to have so many wondrous moments to draw from and even when they are absent, having people like Vinni or Mom having them in my place