A Basque in Boise

Ruthless

I took yesterday and today off to come up (down?)  to Idaho Falls to visit my friend Victoria. Crazy week, although I didn’t do much yesterday after leaving H-P and getting on the road.  Awesome little trip, listening to music I hadn’t heard forever and trying to keep my mind as blank as humanly possible. After getting to Victoria’s house, she and I got ready and went to see John Bieter’s presentation on – what else? – the History of Basques in Idaho. Today Victoria was busy and well, so was I. Holy crap… I’ve been in front of the computer since 7 this morning, translating away. I lost count of the times I reviewed this one survey online, and then I felt like listening to Bieter’s talk all over again while I finished with the subtitles for a documentary on Basques in the west.

So much for a “day off”.

I’m taking a break. Actually, I think I’m done. And I was thinking about the other day at my friend’s house, when I went to pick up something I’d forgotten there and I had sworn to myself it’d be a hit and run and how I must be the slowest runner ever because it was one thirty in the morning when I finally left. On a Wednesday. But time flies when you are picking someone apart. Have you ever noticed how little time one spends talking about nice people? “Oh, Mary? She is so nice”,  and then you move on. You might give a couple of examples of why she’s nice, but then you really move on. Now think about a person that really gets on your nerves. Way better if your friends share that same feeling with you. Well, then you can spend from 9:30 pm to 1:30 am talking about it and not be done! I mean, you go through every single little detail, recount the same anecdote once and again because it’s hard to get the effect you want that first time – I mean, that person sucked, ok? And then your friends pitch in and tell you that the same exact thing happened to them, and they also tell the story from a couple of different angles because, again, it’s not easy to describe it perfectly with just one try. And pretty soon (figure of speech, remember, it was 4 hours) you can’t understand how you even looked at this person. How can this person even stand themselves!

And then I go home and I feel a little bad. I think people are inherently good and we all have our things. I’m sure I’ve been the subject of a similar roasting before. Who cares? I’m happy I made someone’s night a bit more fun.

Can you tell I’m feeling bitchy?

Good.

Thanks for passing by: ↓



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