. if you want, we can, we can.

The flight is booked home, I will be arriving in the tdot at 9:30 pm August 17th. Welcome party, anyone?

Last week's contract was harder than anyone thought possible, and half my crew quit. The ice cream store saved us, I think, in addition to being parked next to a glacial river. Those things are blue like the tropical oceans, only cold instead of hot. I cried a lot, and I feel like there's a pit in my stomach, but hopefully this next contract will cheer us all up. I've been stung by bees and stinging nettles, had to replant 17,000 trees, lost a lot of sleep, got hailed on with stones so large that I have bruises. The camp was alternately baked dry and senseless, then deluged with lightening storms that sent the dogs running into the nearest set of planter's arms they could find. Some tents sunk, as the rising glacial river surrounded their sites and destroyed all their stuff. Not mine, I was a girl guide.

I also got surprised by a deer on my land. It bounced away a few metres and watched me for a long time. On saturday night, the planters showed up at the jam night in the cowboy bar. Bull heads on the walls, a deer shooting arcade game in the corner, you name it. We looked very out of place, and I was afraid that we'd get beat up. It happens in small towns. But the locals were so excited. Most of them had never seen a digeridoo (sp?) before, and the jam band had two. By the time I had finished singing "Red House" and was breaking into "O, death", three couples were dancing, and a soused old gentleman came up and told me to quit planting and go sing, for I'd "Surely given Rita MacNeil a run for her money tonight, oh yeah."

Take that, Rita. Wait a few years and I'll have a tea house going, too.