my heart is a glorious machine;

Woke this morning feeling strangely alive -- well, no, not as soon as I woke; mostly I was sleepy (and cosy, as there was a fluffy little calico making brrrriiir! noises and curling up on my legs), and fuzzy-headed, but lying in bed listening to Morning Edition and the bedroom all full of breeze (oh lazy Saturday mornings, how I love you!), I felt very -- attuned to things. Which is lovely. Let's hope it lasts, cos I've got a lot to do today, mostly of the errand variety. Want to pick up: book I put back for myself at work, paycheck(? I keep forgetting when it's been two weeks -- if it hasn't been, I'll arrange for it to be automatically deposited); scan the mall once more, rather hopelessly, for a fetching straw boater, and, perhaps less hopelessly, a pair of white or cream stockings; then to Walmart to investigate car adapters for laptop, actual not-earbud-headphones, ribbons; come home, pack, have chocolately goodness and curl up with a book. War for the Oaks, which is one of my very favourite books in this world, came the other day -- I finally broke down and bought it, and I meant to save it to read on holiday, but that resolve lasted all of fifteen minutes. (Ergo I will re-read it on holiday. Re-read again, that is; but I re-read books hundreds of times, when I like them. You find so many new things in books when you read them over again -- both things that you didn't notice were there the first time, and things that mean different things to you at different parts of your life.) And I got Mum to order Thomas Wharton's Salamander from PaperBackSwap for me, and that came a few days ago, and that's definitely a good holiday book -- this will be the second holiday I've read it on! -- because it involves a lot of concentration and immersion, being, as I mentioned, one of the very oddest books I have ever read, which is precisely why I love it so. There are a lot of echoes of it and its ideas in the Evangeline story -- Evangeline's father's job was probably subconsciously invented just so I could imagine about the same kinds of book ephemera that Thomas Wharton does. In a world with magic, how are books different? Especially ones that aren't meant to be straightfoward novels. (And, in a world with actual very present vampires, did Bram Stoker write Dracula? Did he write it, but differently? Hmm.)

Oy, brain, that is hardly what I set out to talk about! But speaking of holiday preparations, I ordered a parasol some days ago, as I have always wanted one, partly because they're lovely and distinctive, and partly because I loathe being tanned and burnt is worse, and as I shall be in the sun at Stanfest for days, I'd like to finally have a bit of portable shade. And it came today, and it is exquisite; I am so glad I picked this one! Note to all: for parasols, look on eBay. There are plenty of varying quality for auction, of course, but quite a lot of sellers with very nice and inexpensive ones, too. I chose the one I did because it is all real materials -- bamboo, wood, silk, no plastic in sight -- and is simple -- white silk, spray of painted flowers, pink spokes -- and pretty and has got a handle with a tassel. And it looks so sophisticated and quirky and I cannot wait to use it. I also keep opening it and spinning it, because I can. (Also nice that it is silk rather than paper, because I am clumsy and I am sure something terrible would happen.)

Anyway, let me see! Wonderful Cape Bretony things! First off, there's Stanfest, where I will see Sarah Harmer, Po' Girl, and a lot of other Canadian folk musicians wiith whom I am unfamiliar -- but discovery is my favourite thing about festivals. And you know how I love festivals -- dancing, community, music all day, pretty dresses, vendors, magic. But first we drive for two days. Er. Eep? But I am a bit mad and enjoy road tripping. (Though especially if siblings are quiet. Hoping to plug in laptop, watch films, sleep, read books, get deeply acquainted with some albums. Hence the purchase of headphones.) We pick up my aunt near Philly, and eventually turn up at Jonathan's family's house in Maine, stay the night -- it's the halfway point -- then continue on to Canada. After Stanfest, we've got a lovely house by a lake, and I believe it's a swimmable lake? (I hope so, as I have a lovely new vintagey polka-dotted bathing suit, the first suit I've had in five years, and the first I haven't hated the look of in some time.) And there will be relaxation and much reading and I WILL GET WRITING DONE. That is in capitals because I am sternly reminding myself of this, you see.

I have no idea as of yet what if any internet access I will have in Nova Scotia -- if our house will have any internet, if someone will have unprotected wireless nearby, if we'll stumble into a coffeehouse with free wireless. I would much prefer there to be easily accessable internet, for many obvious reasons -- not least because I suddenly realised NPR is American and therefore not on Canadian radio (most likely). With no NPR and no internet, how will I get the news? (I refuse to watch televised news anymore, as it is always sensationalised and makes me angry, and frequently goes on for hours about Britney Spears' latest exploit or talks about nothing but Michael Jackson for ten hours after his death was announced, bypassing actual important news, especially that which takes place in countries other than America -- and anyway we won't have television, either.) Also, how will I resarch things? :p

Looking forward -- oh, starwatching; I'm sure our house will be isolated enough that the stars will be clear. I feel as though I need a good star-communing at least every six months, to keep on balance. It makes me feel bigger and smaller and connected and loved and loving and amazed. Wandering about, taking pictures, exploring. Watching films with the family. Watching films all alone. The dramatic landscapes. I can pretend I'm in an L.M. Montgomery novel -- which would be magnificent! Jo of the Clifftops! Listening to music in new and interesting places. Gathering memories like wildflowers.

(Though just now what I'd like to gather is food.)

Aaaack, it's my least favourite part of any trip: the last few hours before we leave. (I say 'last few hours' because, um, it's nine thirty now, and Dad and I are getting up at five.) All the scrambling and madness and me being sure I'm forgetting something important and, as usual, only beginning to pack at the last minute (though that's usually not difficult, really: decide which summer dresses are current favourite, find a sweater or two for the nights, and somehow locate socks and underwear, bonus points if socks match). Also I baked cookies for the trip on Dad's orders -- chocolate crinkles -- and cannot stop eating them, oh no!

Imagine, this time tomorrow I'll be lying in the grass listening to... let me check the schedule... Travis Tritt and Jerry Douglas? Meh. Will probably skip out on that for the Opening NIght Dance with, hey, Scythian! (Hee, local friends, remember when you went to see them and were all telling me I had to see them too? YAY. I'll pretend you're there; it'll be awesome.) Jerry Douglas is good, but I've seen him twice before and he's never particularly wowed me stylistically -- of course he's brilliant and all, it's just not something I get excited about. And Travis Tritt... um, not my cup of absinthe, thanks. Anyway DANCE. With SCYTHIAN.

Thus far this is the first time I've attended a folk music festival without my iPod breaking a day or two beforehand. I don't even know, you guys.

Also it occurs to me that last year I wore my Vienna Teng t-shirt on the way up, too.

One more thing. No, two more things. One: Martha Tilston is bloody amazing. I mean, if Steve Tilston, performer of one of the top five best shows I have ever seen in my life, and definitely the best one-man-and-one-guitar-and-a-harmonica show I've ever witnessed, was going to have a daughter, it stands to reason that she would inherit a modicum of awesome. I just wasn't prepared for how much her album was not only fantastic but so exactly in line with my tastes. And this was an album she recorded partially out of doors and gave away for free on her website! Two; for a taste, Miss Tilston features on the mix I just posted on balladrie. Oddly, the last mix I posted was also finalised the evening before I left for a trip, in that case, Christmas holidays with relatives. Huh.

Also, grr. Going to miss Dollhouse on Friday. Couldn't the break week be this week instead of last? And I'll miss next week's, too, on account of how I will be flying to see lady_moriel at the time. (But then we can watch the episode together! And flail like the nerdy fangirls we are!)

...To talk about my summer plans? 

I realised just now that I haven't actually written about them yet, and some of the more pertinent ones are approaching rather quickly. In about a week, Dad and I leave for Merlefest in North Carolina, where it will be gloriously warm... oh, right, and the music, yes. We won two free tickets to the festival last year, from a radio call-in, and really, really loved it -- not only the music, because clearly, it's one of the biggest folk/roots/bluegrass festivals in the country, and nearly everyone good ends up there sooner or later, but because of the atmosphere of it, the locations of the stages -- two are at the bottoms of hills, making for spectacular natural stadium seating! -- the community spirit, the wonderful people who run it, who strictly encourage a family friendly and comfortable atmosphere, the beautiful weather of North Carolina in springtime. Summer would be miserable for me (although I survived physical labour in Mississippi in July, so perhaps I'm hardier in the face of humidity than I give myself credit for), but spring is delicious. I've been daydreaming about it for months, all through the miserable chilly wet grey cloud-heavy winter, dreaming about lying flat in the long grass underneath the afternoon sun, listening to Emmylou Harris. (Emmylou, you guys! EMMYLOU HARRIS. And the Duhks, and Missy Raines & the New Hip, and Ollabelle, and the Greencards, and... wow.)

For me, summer is folk music festivals. Of course this is April, but April in the Carolinas is summer enough by my standards, and by the time May rolls around spring and summer tend to blend into each other anyway. But since I was nine, we've been making pilgrimages to various festivals every summer, and I feel so tremendously at home -- almost at peace, in a way, when I come to another festival; it's almost the same sort of violently familiar and safe feeling that finds me at my grandparents' house, even their new little apartment in a retirement community, because it's full of the pictures and artifacts and furniture and photographs and refridgerator magnets and particular snacks that I remember. Perhaps it's even stronger at festivals because it's music, and the music sometimes takes me further back than the festival experience alone. Emmylou Harris, for example -- she's been crooning to me since I was a baby. There are certain songs that bring back that -- safeness -- and her voice alone relaxes me, and yet makes me ache with remembering.

And festivals are fun. Music, all day! And sunlight, and people, and booths full of delightful oddities, and dancing, and good food, and all of the excitingness that long drives and camping bring (...look, I really like car trips, okay? I don't even know why, I just love them).

And then four days after Dad and I get home from North Carolina, I'm getting on a plane and flying to Kyra.

Pretty much yeah.

So, you remember last summer, lady_moriel came to stay with me for a week? And how we've known each other for like seven years and had never met in person until then? And how it was pretty much the most amazing thing ever? (And how glorious and strange it was, how incredibly familiar she was -- because I've met internet friends before, and there's always that first sense of vertigo, because they're really familiar, except not, because they're occupying physical space, and suddenly they have habits of waving their hands or sitting in a particular way or pacing or being really still and it's just... weird at first? But with Kyra it really wasn't at all, and that was nice.) So, she's graduating from college next month, and after she left we kept saying, we need to do this again, we really really really do, and she thought maybe she could bring me up for her graduation, because she has all of these frequent flyer miles, and... then there was a lot of planning and deciding, and now it's happening. There are tickets, and everything, and I'm going to get on a plane in two weeks and fly all the way to Alaska and watch her graduate and stay with her for a week and a half and I AM SO EXCITED I CAN'T EVEN TELL YOU. I mean, first, PLAAANE -- I love flying, although I've only done it, what, four or five times in my life?, and I love airports, and travelling in general, and all of the weird little things about it, like packing carry-ons and having travel-sized things and snacks and choosing the exact right books and... that sort of thing. And thene KYRAAA. FOR A WEEK AND A HALF. (Also, ALASKA. Have never been there. Have never been off the continental United States, really, unless Quebec counts, in not being the United States but still continental. Anyway.) 

So... yes. Lots of planning going on there. And flailing. And deciding what movies and television to watch together, and planning photoshoots and geekery and things... I HAS A FLAIL. (Not the, um, weapon kind, with the spikes. Really not.)

Then, in July, my family is going to Cape Breton in Nova Scotia -- renting a house, seeing the sights, THERE WILL BE CEILIDHS, real live ones, oh my goodness, this has been a crazy dream of mine for so long, to go to a ceilidh, and I had no expectation of it ever coming true. (Now to make it come true in Ireland...) Aaaannnd, because we're us, we're going to another folk festival out there, the Stan Rogers Folk Music Festival -- we don't know a lot of the artists, as they're mostly Canadian and ergo less well-known over here (although Dad knows and loves James Keelaghan, and some of the artists they've had in previous line-ups kind of made my jaw drap), but... WAIT, SARAH HARMER? WAIT WHAT? SHE WAS NOT ON THE LINE-UP WHEN LAST I CHECKED. Also need to check out Po' Girl, as they seem very much my sort of music. Anyway, it's going to be gorgeous. My aunt is coming along too. I can hardly wait... except there's quite a lot of else to fill up the waiting NOT LEAST STAYING WITH KYRA.

...Which reminds me, I have to start gathering some things for Merlefest... I need sunglasses, and there's a set of feather jewellery I'd like to have (shut up), and I really want a parasol. If I can't get one in time for Merlefest, I at least want one for Stanfest. I've got an old-fashioned sunhat, and plenty of flowy summer dresses, and the first sandals I've owned and liked in about eight years, and a laptop... for which I need a case...

So, getting on the road in a few minutes here; did not sleep much last night so am dead tired, which is sort of a relief as I will likely therefore sleep much of the drive and eschew many of the problems posed by iPodlessness. Have however packed about five books instead of the two I started out with. (I always over-pack books. I will likely not get through very many as I will be busy listening to music all day long after the driving is over but -- as I said, I always pack more books than I actually read in the end. Anyway my reading mood might shift!)

Am still nauseated; it comes and goes. By now I'm almost certain it's the medication, bleh. Hopefully this means that it will eventually go away, however.

Only sound cross because am very sleepy and tired of organising and packing and having iPod die suddenly. (Closest repair centre is in Albany which is fifty minutes out of our way, alack. If it were just me with the driving...) Am not really so terribly cross I think, and looking forward to seeing Abigail Washburn & the Sparrow Quartet again as well as discovering some new sounds, and rummaging through odd booths full of awesome yet sadly overpriced merchandise. Should probably stop rambling now and finish getting things into car that we may leave. And sleep. Lovely sleep.