![]() |
![]() |
Visit The *EVEN NEWER* Barrow-Downs Photo Page |
![]() |
#11 |
La Belle Dame sans Merci
|
The Sick Girl's Take
Many know that my plans were greatly waylaid.
Christmas with the family, Boxing Day with my own personal Formy and Nienna. Start gathering others immediately. As we all must sometimes learn, even the best laid plans are sometimes tragically altered by the idiocy of others. Thanks to irresponsible parenting of a relative, I managed to acquire and cultivate a strain of strep throat that distinctly interrupted my arrangements. And so my first bit of Mooting was done over google chat ("Are you serious, Ni? You want me to sit in front of a camera while you, Formy, Mira, and B88 watch me be all sick and horrible looking?" "Yes. You. Video chat. Now."), and was followed by a few speakerphone interruptions of their festivities. "You'll never believe it, Fea, you and Sally just called us at the exact same time!" "Oh," I smirked into my phone, "That is soooooo coincidental!" I sent an MSN smiley at Sally, who I must say sounds a bit like a drug-addled Martian robot from the perspective of one listening to her speakerphone-voice through a speakerphone. Finally I was no longer contagious, could eat solid food again, and was on my way. I arrived to the Moot five days after expected, after a long ride that included being stuck behind three plows and two tractors. I dialed Ni's number as we pulled up to Apartment 23. "I need at least one boy, stat." "Stick isn't good enough?" "If Stick (Mira) wants to haul twelve days of my luggage - plus presents - up to fourth floor, then sure Stick's good enough." "She and Formy will be right down." Within seconds, a camisole wearing Stick - and a much more sensibly dressed Form - emerged into the 35 degree afternoon and I was glomped so hard my teeth rattled. Into Apartment 23 we went - I being the last arrival to the Moot - just as the majority of Mooters were on their way out the door! "Fea, you should try to guess who is who!" I eyed Rune, who was highly identifiable (our resident Viking), and Kath (who was clad for the cold as thoroughly as a ninja, her face covered almost entirely), and thought I could maybe do this, except I was exhausted and a bit overwhelmed, and who was this small sleeping figure on the couch next to the sleeping figure that was Alona? And this charmingly handsome dark haired fellow immediately in front of me, who I couldn't quite label on the spot, but whose smile made me feel immediately more comfortable. I would learn later that the sleeping form was Shasta - who could sleep quite literally anywhere, at any time - and the smiling stranger was Glirdan, who for some reason I may never have actually looked at a picture of prior. The majority, including the Wereduckling, who I was sad not to snuggle (but I was afraid to get her sick), left, leaving me with my Ni, my Formy, my Stick, my Mira, my Lari, plus a sleeping Shasta and Alona, and Boro. Some late Christmas gifts were exchanged on the down low - ask Formy if you wish to see what Lego-Laura, Lego-Kelly, Lego-Michael, and Lego-Rude-Waiter look like - and some relaxing was accomplished. Some catching up was managed. A lot of huggling ensued. Later, everyone returned, propelling me back into immediate exhausted overwhelmedness. Within minutes, however, I was comfortable again, reuniting en masse with Form, Nienna, Alona, Mira, Lari, Rikae, Mac, Wereduckling, and Brinniel, and acquainting myself better with Wilwa, Glirdan, Encai, Rune, Kath, Shasta, Celuien, and Diamond. Some hours later, the moment of truth arrived: or, I should say, the phantom arrived. I perched on the couch, feigning disinterest, and watched him look around the room, nodding or greeting or otherwise taking things in. And then his eyes fell on me. I may have raised an eyebrow. I should mention that this occurred during the too-short 24 hours during which I was not actually ill. We barely interacted, which amused me. Not long after, it was ordained that we should all play werewolf. "I can't," I argued, "you have no idea. I've only just gotten over strep; I'm taking penicillin four times a day. I've literally only felt functional for about a day, and I've been up since 6:30 this morning. I just spent all day in the car. With my parents." "You have to play," the phantom said, raising my hand for me. "Fine." I said. "But if I have to play, then you have to sit down, hold still, and be my pillow." He was somehow okay with this. The next day was - yes, Rune, I'm going to say it - epic. New Year's Eve. By the time I arrived, others had given up on the notion of personal space. By the time I'd been in residence for more than a few hours, I'd given up on the concept as well. As pictures will clearly illustrate, laps became chairs, smooches were freely traded, and everyone looked astonishingly attractive. I must repeat what the phantom mentioned to me several nights ago: we, the Barrowdowners, are one fine looking group of people. The telly was turned on close to midnight, and everyone that drank had a tequila shot in hand, and as the ball dropped, there was one intensely dramatic kiss in the room that absolutely nobody witnessed, as all eyes were on the television, or buried in their liquor. I shall leave it up to you to guess which two Barrowdowners locked lips as the New Year commenced. ![]() I - tragically - went to bed. I had school on New Year's day, and every day after since (I've only just gotten home). As such, I left each morning before most were awake (Rune occasionally stumbled out to say a few words, before going back to bed, and I usually had Formy to keep me company as I got ready for school, and some nights people hadn't gone to bed, so I emerged from whichever room or patch of floor I'd gone to sleep on, blearily waved, and stumbled through my morning routine), and returned most nights long after the Mooters had spent the day doing awesome things. This is probably the moment to mention that New Year's Day I fell completely and totally ill. Again. With something new. Still medicating every few hours for strep, I managed to fall so ill that I - your belovedly loudmouthed Fea - had no voice for days. I squeaked my commentary at whoever was close enough, sometimes repeating my squeaks until they could eke out meaning and share it with the larger audience. It made for a total inability to take advantage of comedic timing, since my witty reparte - when I was alert enough to attempt wit - was quite muted. In any case, here I shall cease and desist my babbling about being ill. I merely wished to preface that due to illness and a very busy academic schedule, I was unable to spend half as much time with half as you as I should have liked, and less than half the time with half of you that you may or may not have deserved. ![]() I am completely and desperately in love with every last member of my Apartment 23 family, and I hate that I had to send you all home. At least my horrifically exhausting schedule meant that I could avoid painful goodbyes at trains, buses, or planes, or you'd have seen me cry every time I lost one of you. I will be seeing you again, all of you. Or else. I hope the love is reciprocated. You are all astonishingly wonderful human beings, and it was my privilege to meet those I had not met, and to rekindle my friendships with those I had.
__________________
peace
|
![]() |
![]() |
|
|
![]() |