mr. and ms. blume (subtitled: c & c music factory)

last week one of my favorite short people at woodstock, kushi, the six-year old hand-tatoo artist, came running up to me yelling, “hi ms. blume!” the sentiment was repeated when cole and i were shopping at a local handicrafts store and the owner asked, “cole, are you and courtney special friends?” while obviously not my husband, cole and i shared the special bond of person-you-go-home-to-and-vent-about-student-teaching with while gorging ourselves on hostess cupcakes, pringles or whatever else came within our reach.

when you go to a foreign country with someone for 3 ½ months, you come to know their intricacies as well as you know your own. the meaning of little glances, awkward cricket chirps, inside jokes and even stomach grumbles (this is india, after all). and having someone to coach you when you’re killing a gigantic spider, fighting off monkey invasions, nearing seemingly imminent death on indian roadways, spending an exorbitant amount of money on a red wooden ganesh statue or sitting through a painfully long staff meeting makes the bond even more unique.
this ode is not inspired by death or bodily harm (thank god), but rather departure. following a magnificent re-creation of the st. olaf christmasfest (on a smaller, woodstock-sized scale) cole departed from this beloved hill. cole’s departure makes the reality that i am a full-time teacher even more palpable. i don’t know what i will miss most about my husband, wasting time watching music videos in the staff lounge, discussing teaching practices over french toast or knowing the phone call in the high school workroom around 10 p.m. is the signal that work in the music building has come to a screeching halt, and “are you ready to jetset to king’s chambers?” so, out of an urgency for nostalgia, i include this beautiful woodstock sunset (featuring the mysterious-looking winterline, drawing the boundary between the hot plains and the chilly mountains) and a small photo montage of my time as ms. blume. i now must return to the ms. humm who must read 45 more papers before night's end and is currently procrastinating by writing blogs and internet window shopping.