My Dog ate my Chacos.

I've been trying to write this post for three days now. Time to just get it out.

Long story short, one of my dogs at one of my Chacos, which is really too bad, because I love my Chacos almost as much as I love my dogs. For those who aren't familiar with Chacos, they are a footwear company that produces tough, reliable, sandals. For those who aren't familiar with dogs, they are adorable, four legged mammals, sometimes equipped with unending appetites for love and loose nylon.

Damage Assessment: non-critical.

Flyer, my family's six month old mini Australian Shepard, gnawed into one of the buckle straps of my Chaco Hipthongs. The sandal was laying on the floor (go figure, its a shoe) and he got into it. He's just a little boy though, and he's still teething, so its really my fault. When I found the damage, I told him sternly "Flyer, you're VERY lucky that I love you." Then I scratched his belly. I can't hold a grudge against a puppy.

Seriously though, I love these sandals. I was an ardent Birkenstock devotee until about a year and a half ago when I was given a pair of Chacos. You could probably count the number of days I haven't worn my Chacos since then on two hands.

Just as an example, as evidence to substantiate my rave about these sandals, consider the following. I worked at Saddleback Ski School in Rangeley Maine nearly every weekend (and some weeks) last season. Sometimes the temperatures on the hour drive from Farmington to Rangeley, Maine, would drop below -10 Fahrenheit and there was routinely a 70 yard walk through the snow to get from the employee parking to the lodge. On any given weekend it was my Chacos that carried me through the ankle deep snow. If only I could have fit those suckers into telemark bindings, I would have skied in them too.

Needless to say, those sandals are going to see China.

Dreams and photos

This post concerns a dream I had last night. I've heard that reading and listening to other peoples dreams can be one of the more boring subjects, so I've added some pretty pictures of my parents house, my pre-staging staging spot, in New Hampshire. If you don't want to read about my dream, you can look at pretty pictures. And theres even a puppy!

I dreamed about the PC last night; I guess I've been thinking about departure so much that its permeated my subconscious. I don't imagine that China/PST/Chengdu will be anything like what I saw in my dream, but it was neat. I'll just paraphrase some of the notable moments:

The dream started with me waking up on a dirt country road with all my gear, in medias res, if you will. So very Dante-esque. I wasn't scared, although I knew that I needed to get huffing because I needed be at PST by 8 AM. SO I started to move it, running along this road with valleys and lakes to my left and pretty hefty granite rock slope/cliff on my right. On the walk I noticed three things: China looks a lot like New Hampshire (I don't believe this is true), I couldn't figure out what time it was back home so I was afraid to call (I'm not planning on carrying a phone), and my luggage felt rediculously light (80 pounds is 80 pounds in any country).

After running down a well worn dirt road, I found that PST was being held in a building that minutes late and looked quite a bit like an American public middle or high school. I arrived about fivefound a room full of Americans. Assuming the were all PCVs I set my gear down an searched for a bathroom. I think the difficulty I had with finding the restrooms symbolizes my apprehensions surrounding the Mandarin lanuage; I couldn't find what I needed, I couldn't ask for what I needed, and I really had to go pee.