Probably should be doing real work like organizing the kitchen and mailing bills and making sure my bank account isn't at zero...but I'm not.  Instead I plan to regale you with the stories of Cowtown Jamborama X.  Get comfy, maybe grab a snack.

I will try not to bore you with the many organizational plans I had for getting all the volunteering stuff, though I will say that I'm not at all afraid of delegating things.  And in the long run, me not being responsible for everything was probably wise.  The Wednesday before Cowtown I went back to my house and borrowed some housing stuff from my mom, since we were supposed to be housing two people (more on that adventure later), and then hung around and ate dinner, and found it difficult to leave because the house was so cozy, and because it was pouring down rain when I left.  I managed to get back to the flat, though it was raining harder than it had probably for the whole summer and I couldn't get the bedding out until Thursday.  

Flash forward to Thursday afternoon, me running around like crazy to get the house tidied up a little, Adam coming over to do small home improvements to our bathroom, buy food, etc., before I needed to be at the airport when I discovered that the finished room in the basement was damp and soggy from being flooded the night before.  Oh joy.  Panic did not set in just then, I had too much else to do.  Once Adam and I had finished hanging the towel rack, he went off to help set up the Thursday night dance, and I went to the airport to pick up our weekend lodger, Claire.  She was coming from St. Louis where she studies, originally from California, and I knew I liked her the moment we met since she was wearing a Stark-Rogers 2012 campaign t-shirt, and had a button on her hat that said, "I believe in Sherlock."  Was she ever staying in the right house.  We picked up her luggage and headed back to the house where I attempted to get my bearings, and then we headed off to the Thursday night dance.  But food was necessary, so we found the venue, and then walked a few blocks to get pizza with Amanda, Lacey, Eric, and Jose.  Once stuffed, it was back to the club with the Black Top Ramblers, who were awesome but OH SO LOUD!!!  Louder than that.  No, seriously, louder.

Aside from the band, the group wasn't too big or small, there was some pretty good dancing, even if I never actually put my Keds on.  Adam and I danced to a song that was all about Adam Cartwright from Bonanza (there's a song, who knew?) and Eric watched the Bears lose to the Packers, and Kim and David taught the Stroll, and for about 45 minutes, it was like Soul Train in the club.  After that, we decided we valued our hearing, got slightly lost on the way back to the house and eventually sleep.

I was up and going as soon as I could the next morning, determined to be at the Eagles by 9:00 when we were allowed to open.  I had several projects ahead of me, ably assisted by several volunteers, and no major disasters until I'd been there at least 40 minutes.  Sharon took care of the desk, Mike started his first class, Ruth handled the food, Eric helped hang curtains that Lee made especially for the ugly corner in the back, and then our director called with news.  The drummer for Saturday night's band flying from New Orleans was ill with botulism and definitely would not be flying that day.  Instead our director worked to get him on the next day's flight as long as he was able to walk.  All in all, not a totally major blowup, and there wasn't a whole lot I could do to fix it, so instead, I just dealt with the rest of the day, which went pretty well.

Friday was easily the most stressful day, so much to think about and get in order, but I managed to have a little fun, and buy two t-shirts, and talk to people.  I wanted to dance more, but there was too much to do that day.  After the dance, I ran home and changed, and then went back to the Eagles to pick up the instructors for their dinner at Susanna's house.  My driving coordinator Jacquelyn could not have been more patient or invaluable that weekend, she was everything I needed and more.  And Susanna's house was gorgeous, and it provided me at least an hour of not needing to be anywhere, take a rest, enjoy fine weather and company.

I must point out that I probably spent eighty percent of my waking hours for the Cowtown weekend standing up.  I had some issue with sitting down, mainly every time I managed to get there, something would happen that required my presence.  Usually my phone ringing.  Ah, well.

After dinner, I took Kim and David back to the hotel, swept back to my house, rapid changed (one more skill for my superhero set), and made it over to the Friday dance in excellent time.  That night's band, the Robert Bell combo, hailing from Minnesota and previously heard at Heartland was swing, was pretty awesome.  It was nice to be able to dance right in front of the stage and not get your hearing blown up.  I also put myself into the Jack and Jill contest, which in retrospect, was probably not my greatest decision ever, but it's one of the few times where I'm not afraid to compete in front of a huge crowd.  However, I was not really built for super performance that night (I was a little tired), and I only danced with people I knew, but it wasn't bad at all.  I really only compete for fun, I know my skills have not hit their best yet, and I would actually have to focus more on my dance training to really get anywhere.  Oh, to be Chelsea from Wichita.

The rest of the evening went fine, I was getting pretty punchy towards the end though, and once I had the ballroom squared away, I dropped into the after hours, and then left to get some sleep. I hate it when I get all bitchy like that, but there were certain factors involved, and really, going home and sleeping was probably the best for everyone.

Saturday morning dawned and I was back down to the Lodge, making waffles with Andrew, working with Sharon and Josie at the desk, chatting with people, and actually managed to take a few classes that day.  Lunch was Indian food once again, as it has been for the last two years of my Cowtown experience, Saturdays are always for chicken tikka masala.  Which is still delicious, so really no complaints.  Before lunch, I took a class with Mike and Casey which was really pretty below my level, and overcrowded with follows, so when I had a chance I bowed out, and managed to learn the aerial Kim and David were teaching upstairs.  Adam was really good at it, and it's not nearly as scary as some aerials I've learned.  After lunch, Eric and I took Peter and Mia's advanced bal swing class, which was fun, no matter how bad Eric insisted he was.  After that, I promised everyone I would go take a nap while classes finished up, which sounded like a great plan.

In fact, once I got home, I did a little clean up, enjoyed the quiet, didn't hear my phone go off once, and was all psyched to take a nap on my new flannel comforter cover that I hadn't had a chance to put on my bed yet.  However, as I was shaking it out across my huge bed, I stepped through one of the wooden panels on my floor.  Oh, great.  Upon closer inspection, it was in fact termites.  I took a picture, sent it to my landlady, and proceeded to have a minor meltdown.  Eventually, though, I realized that like the New Orleans drummer, there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it right away, and though I didn't have enough time for a nap, I did have time to lie down and read, which is almost better than a nap for me.  After about forty minutes with prose by John Mortimer, I got up, and headed back to the hotel to ship instructors to Ruth's house.  I got some excellent stories about termite swarms from Mia, and Mike was very friendly about the whole thing (I wasn't totally beyond venting about it, but I tried not to make it my only topic of conversation.  Did I mention I was stressed?).  And Ruth's house proved to be another nice lull in the action where I got to sit, eat, and chat with people.  And attempt to forget about termites.  On the way back, with Mike, David, and Mia in the car, I got the hilarious story of why they all like staying at the hotel next door to the Eagles, one word: convenience.  Well, okay, but it was amusing.  Plus, my Captain America soundtrack was playing, and as Mia said there was some pretty epic music happening, and I explained how I liked to motivate myself on the drive to work, being a superhero, punching Nazis.  David said he would try to work that into their aerial warmups.

Another quick change back at the house, and I made it Saturday night (band complete with tired, little woozy, but completely there drummer) plenty early.  No competitions for me that night, and I was free to enjoy myself for the most part.  The couples competition was pretty sweet, and I managed to dance in front of the whole audience with the Cow...I still don't know how I feel about that.  For most of that night, I just enjoyed myself and that seemed to be enough.  Once the evening rounded itself out, I had the joy of herding up the volunteers (how do people stand me?  Even more, why do they take orders from me?), but we got the instructors and the band to the late night venue, cleared up the ballroom as much as possible, and made our own way to Studio 906 for the late night festivities.

Studio 906 is such a weird place, and in kind of a creepy neighborhood, but since building the new baseball stadium just down the street, it was not nearly as scary walking around down there.  Still didn't exactly go alone, but I wasn't really worried about being ambushed.  And I was without my armed guard for the evening, after all.  I had a taco that was mostly cheese, one Jello shot that was my entire alcohol intake for the whole of Saturday, enjoyed some goofy photography with friends, and had a nice chat with some of the instructors.  David and I had a fun talk about baseball, that was pretty cool.  I was also the early shuttle for instructors back to the hotel, but I only drove Mike who wanted to get some rest in case Peter brought people back to the room for more drinking and carousing.  Not a bad or impossible scenario, but Mike was very tired, so I zipped him back to the hotel and had a friendly chat with him.  I made another stop at the late night, since driving Mike took very little time, and I was surprisingly alert and awake despite the long hours.  I think I was slightly afraid of going back to the house and the newly-discovered inhabitants.  But everyone was having a good time, everything was under control, and I think I left at about 2 or 2:30.  I think that's the latest I've ever stayed at the late night.  After that, it was a quick change and into bed to sleep.

Sunday morning I was up by nine or so, and running a bit behind since I was still tired...but it turned out not to be a big deal since I was the only person at the Eagles until about ten minutes before the first class.  First emergency of the day was no water jugs and no cash box, but all was quickly remedied.  Classes went on while Carol cleaned up her vintage closet, corn came to be shucked, and a good time was had by all.  I managed to get in a couple more classes, and I really enjoyed Peter's lecture on swing at the end, which was kind of general explanation on the origins of swing, and its history.  He said lovely things about Cowtown, and in general made me feel proud to be a swing dancer and a part of something truly significant.

And then...the Corn Eating Contest took place.  First up, the junior division, which is really too adorable and very entertaining.  Billy's daughter won, as well as wore a cow suit to the contest.  It rather upset Ryan's daughter, but there were only three of them in the whole thing, and luckily Vivian's little girl is too young to take it very seriously.  I think the audience enjoyed it more than the competitors.  Finally, the adults were brought to the stage, which had various dramas, like Ben and his unfortunate method of eating corn, Jacquelyn and Josh competing for cleanest cob, Andy who was game to win, and the piece de resistance, the female instructors all dressed as swing dancing zombies.  Kim actually grabbed my arm, they were bleeding and buttering each other, it was pretty awesome.  All in all, Billy won, and then we all cleaned up the mess (Ben makes the largest, even the salt shaker was sticky), and called it a day at the Eagles.  I tried to get out of there as quick as I could since I had to get over to the evening venue in what seemed like a very short amount of time.  Managed it all the same, but there were plenty of hysterics before I could settle down.

Our last venue was the gorgeous House of Loom, which was small but for Sunday night that's pretty safe.  The Careless Lovers set up as the band, the bartenders took care of the booze, and the bouncer dealt with the carding the underage crowd.  And I claimed myself a green velvet fainting couch in the balcony, and when Susanna showed up to cover the front desk for me, I had a well-deserved cocktail.  In fact there was a lot of discussion with the lady bartenders about what I should drink, and after two pretty, delicious French 75s, I unwound from my stress, and put my feet up on that velvet couch...and admittedly acted pretty silly, but I don't think I ever got out of line, and it seemed to amuse several people.  Then there was the Charleston contest, which I hope we have every year, because solo Charleston is sooo cool to watch.  Or maybe it was because I was tipsy, I'm not sure.  I didn't dance much, because of my lack of coordination, but I got to say goodbye to everyone, and eventually trucked back home to sleep (when I was safe to drive, thank you).

This year's Cowtown went great, I think.  I don't know what the final numbers were or anything, but everyone sure seemed to be in good spirits throughout, and whatever disasters I might have seen were probably things that only I could see anyway.  Everyone made it home safely from the biggest swing party in the Midwest, and hopefully we'll have a bigger and even better one next year.

Better start my spreadsheet now...=).

All right, I'm going to write something while I'm in a good mood and hopefully keep it that way.  Life, seriously, you're too much sometimes, but we should stick together a bit longer.

Anyway, Labor Day weekend!  What an adventure!  And actually the days leading up to it.  Cecily and I officially signed our lease and became renters of our cute little duplex.  Then began the preparation of trying to get everything together in order to live there...still a bit of a work in progress.  But I have a place to sit, a place to sleep, a place to shower, and working locks, so it's getting there.  I bought things I didn't need at Pottery Barn Kids, though I do love the desk, and the bookshelf is actually pretty great, and hopefully they'll last a while.  Adam sold me his bed, and after two nights, I like it a lot.  It's still a bit like sleeping in a hotel, new sheets, new pillows, and such, but it sure is comfy.

The room has been rearranged twice.  The computer is almost together, and I have at least one box of books up in the room.  My movers/epic friends Adam, Eric, Frank, and Joe were the backbone of the moving operation, with the addition of Ryan who provided his truck for moving the bed.  Also, my work supervisor also proved to be a SUPER supervisor when she brought her van to help move the expensive Pottery Barn stuff.  And everything worked out pretty well.  I took Eric and Joe out for lunch, with its own shenanigans, and pretty much had a nice moving day.

It's still an adjustment; my legs and feet are not used to hardwood floors (I need a better pair of slippers), spiders tend to come out of the vents (apparently I can buy a spray for that), the kitchen has no counter space or storage space (we can fix that too, but I see why people move into houses with giant kitchens), the backporch light is burned out (hello, landlady, help?) and the bathroom door is super squeaky (WD-40, boom!).  I could use some curtains, and my stereo, but the place is quiet and clean, and just in need of people living in it for longer than a week.

Other than that, the weekend was fun-filled, lots of birthdays and parties, and hanging out at the old homestead with my little brother.  We had ourselves some times with cookies and MST3K.  I will admit, I can't wait to have dinner at home soon.  Panera is still not on par with my mom.  Or even my dad.  Plus until I get a table, there's no real place to eat in the house.  Also, the couch needs to get over there soon, there's not too many places for a crowd to sit.  Ahh, so many things.  I have a running list the length of a marathon, though it's really more like a triathalon.

Other than that, fall is approaching, Cowtown is peeking around the corner about to jump into my face, and hopefully we'll have the house settled before winter comes.  It was very lonely that first night, but last night was much better when people came by to visit.  First Adam to build the computer, then Natalie and her friend Rachel to hang out, and then Eric to eat his dinner and visit.  Natalie and Rachel brought cookies, Adam discovered my computer needs a different power source, Eric and Adam checked the place over, and then there was a quest for ice cream.

Good times, good times.  More later, perhaps.  Ack, I still need a desk chair.

Wow, this year has really become exhausting.  Too much going on.  I don't know if this year has been better or worse than last year, at the moment it just seems more complicated.  It's hard not to feel sad, so many sad things keep happening, and there isn't much to stop them from happening again.  In my heart and mind, the saner parts at least, I know all these things are happening for good reason, and that usually what goes on is for the best, but seriously, it would be nice if the best thing didn't have to make me feel like crap.  I feel like I've cried more this year than I have in a long, long time, and every good accomplishment comes with a punishment.  I don't know if the world has to keep some sort of balance or what.  Unfortunately, the bad always seems to outweigh the good.  Probably because the bad is so definite and permanent and scary, while the good is intangible, delicate, and simple.

Is the pain a sign that the love was true?  That something precious is gone?  It's hard to tell.  And I struggle with letting myself mourn sufficiently because I can't tell what's a healthy amount of time and what's just putting me down.  I'm afraid I'm depressed and in complete denial.  I don't know if I'm addressing my grief properly, or if it's being pushed under the rug, slowly becoming a problem that will trouble me later.  I've never been through a year like this before, and I don't really know how to navigate the minefield.  I cry a lot, which is exhausting.  I eat too much, or stop eating altogether, which is unhealthy.  I don't know if talking about it makes me feel better or worse, so I don't know if I should talk about it at all.  And I don't want to bring everyone else down into my misery, so I don't want to talk about it.  The fear of the unknown is so much bigger than what people think.  Being afraid of your own future is probably a serious issue.

So I don't really know what to do these days.  My big big plans have kind of fallen by the way since July.  Moving might help.  Seeing the family and being on the farm did help.  I struggle with finding my inner balance, to stay in a place that makes me feel content, if not completely happy.  There's just too much sadness sometimes.  I want to crawl into my bed and hide there and sleep everything away.  It might be a cowardly decision, but who isn't a coward when they see pain and anguish coming for them?  At least a little bit.

My grandpa died last week, and his passing felt so much harder than when my grandma died.  It could be because Grandma died suddenly, and I spent most of that mourning period in shock, while Grandpa was sick for months.  It could also be that I feel very much alone these days.  Eric was with me when I went through my grandma's passing, and after we broke up, I felt so empty.  And when I realized I was going to have to face Grandpa's death alone, that was hard.

Oh, my, I just brought myself down writing that.  I don't like this.  I don't like the way this feels, but how do I get rid of it?  Should I?  I mean, I assume that I'll feel better eventually, but do I bandage the wound or cut it off?  I don't know.  It's too hard to think about sometimes.  Should I even be blogging about it?  Sorry you guys are suffering through this if you're even still reading this.

Let's write about reality for a little while, shall we?  I should, it's been a CRAZY summer, it seems.  And even though August is still new, it feels like fall is looming on the horizon.  I'm telling you, craziness.

But it does keep life adventurous.  And even though not every adventure is a fun one, it helps move time along, and as always, adversity brings experience.  I'd rather have fun and experience, but if experience is the best thing to draw out of a not-particularly-nice adventure, I'll take it.  I do find myself quite often these days saying, "I love-" and biting off the last word.  That'll get better too.

At least apartment hunting has been a good adventure.  Occasionally frustrating, and there have been some scary landpeople out there, but some neat places to live.  Cecily and I looked at an apartment building that was completely out of our price range, but the place had just been redone, and the owner was just keen to show it off.  She knew we weren't really able to live there, but it was really nice of her to let us tramp around all those gorgeous apartments.  If there had been a one bedroom left, we might've taken it, since the "one bedroom" apartments were really more like two or three room, but alas they were all taken.  The penthouse was very impressive, two floors to itself, four or five bedrooms, three bathrooms, giant kitchen, a balcony overlooking the semi-ballroom, and I just love the windows.  Of course, to live there, it would've been us...and at least six other people.  Sigh, some other time, perhaps.

Also, Cowtown approaches...oh boy, I am excited and nervous and all that.  This will be my first year in charge of the volunteers and last year went so well, that I hope I live up to at least that.  Everyone keeps telling me not to worry, and I'm trying not to...but there's always the anxiety that the whole thing will break because of me.  Irrational?  Totally.  But a little fear will probably keep me in check.

Other than that, summer's still kicking.  I should cook tonight.  Now there's an adventure.

For the negative six people waiting for the outcome of my character blacking out (seriously, who reads this?!), here is the continuation.


The first sensation when I regained consciousness was a melon-splitting headache.  Wincing, I opened my eyes to a way too bright room, and three faces.
"May?  May, open your eyes, all the way," the blurry face with glasses said.
I did my best to comply.  Holy cow, when did the box get so bright?  It stung my eyes and I held a noodle-limp arm up to cover the light.
"What happened?" I gasped, reviewing myself for injuries or abnormalities.  My chest was heaving for breath and my elbows felt bruised.  I kept blinking until the fuzziness went away, and I could see Dr. Banner, Stark, and Capt. Rogers clearly again.
"You passed out from oxygen deprivation.  Using all that solar energy burned up the supply of oxygen in your body.  You should be all right in a minute," Banner told me, timing my pulse with his watch.
The captain held my other hand.
"Lie still, May.  Keep breathing."
"Slowly, you don't want to hyperventilate," the doctor said.
I put my head back and took four deep breaths until the desperate desire for air went away and I struggled to sit up, leaning into the captain as the room started spinning.
"You all right, May?  Everything feel normal?" Stark asked, waving something electrical in my direction, picking up readings.
"Yeah, I think so.  I've never done that before," I said, still not completely settled in mind and body. 
"I'm pretty sure we don't need to repeat the experience anytime soon," Stark said, standing up and going back to his data terminal.
"Did you learn anything?" I asked.
"Loads of things.  We should make you an alternative energy source," Banner quipped, satisfied with my pulse's normality.
I smiled, the dizziness fading away at last.
"Who's greener, you or me?" I teased him.
Shifting to stand up, the captain caught my elbow.
"You're sure?" he asked, looking me in the eye.  Annoyingly, I blushed, and hid my face.
"Yes, I'm fine."
Rogers helped set me on my feet and walked me out of the box, Stark and Banner tapping away at their screens.
"It's pretty impressive that you can choose what energy you want to produce.  And from the looks of things, you can choose from quite a few," Banner said, talking and typing at the same time.
I came up to the set of screens, trying to see what he saw, instead of rapidly calculating numbers and flashing charts and graphs.
"What's there?" I asked.
"JARVIS, tell the little lady about her big power," Stark called out, still focused on his screens.
"In order of strength, energy readings include nuclear, solar, electrical, lunar, magnetic, radio, heat..."
The information trailed off as JARVIS listed a bunch of words that didn't register with me.  I looked down at my hands, the same hands they'd always been, pale skin with visible blue veins covering the long fingers and wide palms.  It almost overwhelmed me that these hands could produce nuclear power.  I knew after the first energy outburst that started all of this that there was something a little bit different about me, but to hear Stark and Banner explain it all in detail...
I felt dizzy again and caught myself on Capt. Rogers.

You know what time it is?  Yes, it's time for me to indulge in one of my favorite guilty pleasures...WRITING FAN FICTION.  Oh, yes, that's the kind of girl I am.  Read if you dare.




"Are you sure about this?  I might blow up the building," I said, raising an eyebrow at the test.
Tony Stark snorted lightly, taking my doubts about his construction design a little personally.
"Relax, this thing could absorb a nuclear explosion.  Actually, three nuclear explosions, or four nuclear meltdowns.  In," the brilliant engineer said, shoving me towards the chamber.
The heels of my sneakers squeaked as I planted them in the floor, still cautious.
"How do you know I won't do something to destroy myself?" I asked.
Stark rolled his eyes.
"We won't go overboard.  Don't worry, we'll be very careful with our science," Dr. Banner spoke up behind him from his numerous monitors and scientific instruments.  I looked back at him and he gave a sincere and encouraging nod.
I turned back to the chamber door and took a deep breath.
"Okay, then."
I stepped inside the big square box made of incredibly strong metal and glass.  Well, at least, I thought it was metal and glass, but it was probably more impressive.  I went to stand in the center, watching Stark join Banner behind the panel of monitors that would track and record everything I did inside the box.
"JARVIS, you around?" Stark said to the air.
"At the ready, sir," the smooth British accent echoed from the speakers connected to his CPU.
"Let's get started."
The door of the box slid shut and clanked as it locked and sealed me in.  My ears popped from the sudden pressure.  A wave of claustrophobia swept across my nose but I put it aside.  I could see Stark and Banner, but more important, I could see the emergency escape switch on my side of the door.  Not a prison, just a box.
"Do your thing, May," Stark said over the loudspeaker.
I screwed up my mouth in a pinched frown.  I didn't really have a "thing", and it wasn't something easily switched on.  I tried to concentrate, but just found my brain working itself up.
"Come on, do something."
I turned my frown on Stark but he wasn't even looking at me.
"We're waiting!" he whined at me, and my blood pressure was the only thing that changed.
"Stop yelling at me!  I'm not your experiment!" I snapped.
Finally he looked up, brown eyes reflecting the light from the box.  He was a handsome devil, but Banner knew he was going about it all wrong.
"May," the doctor began, "hold up your hands and just think about the lightning."
I stopped glaring at Stark, but I still frowned.
"Okay," I said, in a voice that promised to try, but was doubtful of success.
And yet, it was stupidly simple.  I held up my hands, closed my eyes, and remembered the feeling of those huge electric bolts shooting from my fingertips and sparkling off my palms.  The strange pull of energy beginning at my heart and streaming through my arms, and there was the solution.  I opened my eyes, and the box was lit up like a summer storm.  The shock of it made me stop at once.
"Whoa," I murmured.  I glanced at the panel of monitors and Banner and Stark were having a similar reaction.
"JARVIS," Stark said at last, "analysis."
"Direct current electricity, power of two hundred thousand watts at maximum strength, power of ten thousand watts at minimum."
The data flashed up on the glass walls of the box for me to see as the computer spoke.  Fancy graphics and charts spun before my eyes.  Behind the data-covered windows, Banner and Stark focused on their tools.
"All right, May, you want to try something else?" the doctor asked.
Recklessly, I shut my eyes again and let the lightning flow out of my hands, and thought about nothing but the source.  The power emerging from my core felt a little different, and I opened my eyes to look, hoping not to freak out.  All around me, light glittered like fireworks, arcing back and forth between me and the beams of the box.  It didn't look like regular lightning.  Cautiously, I took a step forward, letting the energy dance around me.  I noticed the lightning licking across my feet and arms, and felt nothing more intense than what was coming out of my hands.  Suddenly, I dropped the idea of just emitting energy from my hands, and the light emerged from my skin everywhere.  I could feel lightning burst from my nails, my hair, my kneecaps, my teeth.
The pull on my core became stronger, but not overwhelming.  I looked outside the box, seeing Stark and Banner both staring at me with wide eyes.
The lightning stopped.
"What is it?" I asked them.
It took them a moment to respond, gathering their thoughts.
"May, you're emitting enough energy to light up all of North America," Dr. Banner said.
"It's more than just electricity," Stark said, examining his monitors. "It's a combination of electricity, light on all wavelengths, solar energy, and more, and it's extrememly potent."
I raised an eyebrow.
"So it's not just light?"
Stark shook his well-groomed head.
"Nope.  Is that all you can manage?"
He asked it without condescension, looking at me in quiet fascination.
"I can probably do more."
The far doors of the lab swished open and an elegant pair of people entered, Stark's assistant and CEO of his industries, Pepper Potts, and the noble patriot, Capt. Steve Rogers.  The captain smiled at me and I smiled back.
"What's going on, Doc?" he asked Banner, not taking his eyes from me.
"We're getting a read on May's abilities.  It's pretty impressive," Banner told him absently as his fingers flew across his monitors.
Rogers nodded, and joined him and Stark behind the bank of research equipment.  Potts handed Stark some papers and then quietly withdrew, not interested in disturbing what seemed more and more like a very important study.
"She's just about to show us the extent of her skill, or at least give it the college try," Stark said, equally distracted in his response.
Rogers looked over the monitors, gazing at the readouts, then looked up at me.
"Don't overdo it, May.  No sense in straining yourself," he said.
I resisted the intense urge to sigh.  The captain was such a kind man, to me especially it seemed, but my opinion was disgustingly biased.  Ever since he, Stark, and Banner had discovered me in that well-buried government prison, his face always brought relief.  My powerful core tingled at the memory of him carrying my broken body out into the spring rain, to freedom and safety.
"I'll be careful," I promised.
"Let her rip," Stark said.
I took a deep breath, filling my chest completely.  As I exhaled, I let everything my core could produce radiate out.  Electricity zapped off my eyelashes, the box became a blinding source of light, and I felt like my feet floated over the floor.  Slowly, a weight pressed down on my chest, making it difficult to get a real breath.  I focused, trying to identify the different energies I could produce.  Solar power flowed out of me, and I felt pleasantly warm for a few minutes, every inch of me sparkling gold.  Then the strain started to become too much, and a block of ice formed in my already-heavy chest.  I struggled for breath while maintaining the gorgeous light, and the cold overtook me in spite of the warmth all around me.  Collapsing to the floor as I heard JARVIS speaking over the blood pounding in my ears, I blacked out.

I'm watching Rear Window right now and it's making me smile.  I can relate to the beautiful Lisa Fremont who's in love with her own occasionally-grumpy camera bum.  I'm not exactly the fashionable model Grace Kelly (an $1100 dress would probably cause me to faint), but I do admire her.  And luckily Eric doesn't have a broken leg or things could get interesting in a homicidal neighbor way.


But anyway.


My parents have been gone a while, looking after Dad's parents.  Grandma fell and broke her hip, and things looked a little risky for her for a bit, but she rallied, and Dad says she's going to be okay.  Long recovery, but that sounds way better than the alternative.  It's been pretty stressful on everyone, and I think we're all looking forward to normalcy.  Soonest.


In the meantime, Jack and I have been looking after ourselves (newsflash: we are low maintenance cooks).  I also have to remember to water the plants and do dishes, Jack does trash and gets the mail.  Yay temporary roommates!  I have no idea what we'll do about the lawn, but I'm sure it'll be fine.  Sadly, it took us five days to get the mailbox open.  We're dysfunctional but functional?  Oh, well, the house is still standing, we haven't killed the cars, each other, or anything else, and, um, yeah.


Aside from our domestic hysterics (wee!), I went to the Champions Workshop last weekend with all the lovely people from Minnesota, Mike and Eve, Dee and Jeremy-Many=Names.  They were all great.  Mike and Jeremy are really fun dancers, especially Jeremy.  I danced with him twice and he likes to play.  That's so rare but fun.  Eve is very sweet, and Dee is just wonderfully sassy.  She taught us to groove, and I'll admit that I probably look like a total goof working my hips but I love it.  I need more groovy swing and blues.  And someone to dance with me to that music, but it would work alone.  We also got to watch the Heartland Hepcat and the Cowtown Cow hang out, dance, play Rock Band.  Good times.


Otherwise work is work.  I'm excited for Sunflower Swing, getting away for a little while, seeing my other grandpa, and maybe shopping?  I feel like I need something pretty to wear.  I love my new purple shoes (even if they cost me more than a pair of Aris Allens), and after learning from Mike, Eve, Dee, and Jeremy, I'm pretty psyched to keep learning dance.  I still love it.  I wish I had more time and money and ability to devote to it.  I fear the infamous game of Bases I went to over Memorial Day has done something to my leg.  Or it could be stress, I'm not really sure.  My left leg hurts, I do know that.  But yeah, more dancing.  Dance, dance, dance.  I don't know if I'll get to STL this summer, as I'd like to, but maybe I'll just save it up for Nevermore in November.


One never knows.


I wish I could dress and look more like Grace Kelly.  So glamorous, though I don't know if would do me much good.  I think I'll stick to being just me.  It's worked so far.