well. hello.

so, that nasty habit of breathing persists--and a persistent hacking cough, as well. i am well enjoying an established life and routine; of course, this means it's about to be rudely interrupted.

Alex the Scott is no longer here, and that makes us sad. For a few short weeks, he graced our pantry (it makes a nice visitor's quarters, except for the stepping over bodies to get to the morning Cheerios) with good looks, good cheer, good music, and good conversation. it is fitting, i suppose, that on his last night here we were up to two-thirty a.m. tracing the evolution of American society, generation by generation, from the Great Depression to the present. 'twas most excellent.

i like being settled in finally. it gives me time and energy to diversify. and diversification is diversion most excellent! like spending a few hours in the pool with paddlesports last night. it's nice to know that not only do i still have my kayak roll, i somehow developed the ability to handroll my kayak in the several years since my last attempts. Charlie was impressed. my arms were angry. they had to weed-whack for six hours straight and then i told them it was time to shake, paddle and roll. silly arms. maybe i'll teach them what's what and go rock climbing tonight.

oh. and exciting news! i'm going to be an uncle again! hooray! and, my brother and sister-in-law might have the little (guy? girl?) in Tanzania...so I might get to visit Tanzania next summer and see the newest Holcomb!

Bated...and Switched

oooh, what a surprise! overcast and drizzly rain. again.

no lawnmowing today!

as previously metioned, i continue to pass Leonard St. and wonder if Paul and Kat are home and whether or not I can bum dinner and a beer off them, only to be pulled short at the empty realization that they are gone. there is a sense of loss.

but there is a great balance. last night, on a meander through the coffeeshoppe, a young lady caught my eye, grinned, and said hello. being of tremendous mental agility and posessing the response times of a caffienated leopard, I gave her a grin, a nod, chalked it up to freshman uncertainty and my own commanding presence.

four-and-one-half steps later, as i caught a chair leg with my left toe and began a graceful in-flight path reorientation, my astounding powers of perception indicated that I should, in fact, recognize this person.

several minutes of sorting later, with surgical precision i deduced that i definitely should know this girl. from somewhere. earlier.

and then i observed with the keenest discernment--the Ruaha National Park sticker on the laptop computer! aha!

i should know this person from Tanzania.

Tanzania. Tanzania...

Tanzania Program...

[click...click...click...click...fizzle......flatline beep.............]

[click...]

"Hiram...is that Chera M from Tanzania?"

"why yes dan. i think it is."



so. we lost Paul and Kat to Tanzania, but we got Chera. And, she recognized me in a moment of looking up from her studying, after an absence of two years, somehow picking me out of the hundreds of students who have revolving-doored through the campus next door to their home over the past eight years of Tanzania programs. pretty impressive.

and if you haven't caught on, Hiram Ring and Alex Scott are in town, and Hiram and I put on a little guitar-and-djembe concert in Houghton's coffee shop. it rocked out. we rocked out. something. it was a grand ole time. if you haven't heard Hiram, he's the Jack Johnson of Western PA. and Afghanistan. Folksy, bluesy, swingin', his lyrical talents are by turns honest, poetic, and fun. definitely a cut above your standard coffeehouse share, and two or three cuts above your standard Christian coffeehouse share for depth of lyricism and creativity.

see Hiram Ring Dot Com and give a listen. My personal picks are "Play Switch", "To Be A Swallow," "Breathe Deep," a sea shanty entitled "Last Tide," and the one about the car...

check him out!

even more transient...

well. with or without internet access, days and weeks dreamily meander by; we are now in my favorite season after spring. warm summer days, cool, star-filled evenings, and deep, cold, tucked-into-the-sleeping-bag nights. the grass is still green, and the trees are still leaf-clad, the creeks are still burbling and splashable, and next to all the quiet greens and browns the threat of winter grayness seems intangible and silly.

so the days of late summer roll by, marked by the difference in dinner's, or the excitement of a movie or a game or the visit of a friend. or by the leaving of friends--i am not excellent at goodbyes--I did not linger long enough with Paul and Katrina before they embarked for Tanzania, and now they have departed. Houghton is duller now, knowing that I cannot stop by their balcony for tea and dark chocolate with little witticisms on the wrappers.

but the days continue their meander, and the little routines of living in day-to-day commitment to people and geography are pure grace--space created through proximity for personality, personality and life, life and transformation: and I am become a person again.