Happy Last Night of Hanukkah!
(This photo is of our "neighborhood menorah," at the rotary.)
Showing posts with label Connecting With My New City. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Connecting With My New City. Show all posts
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Homesick for the Holidays
First, some Home For the Holidays (one of my favorites to watch around Thanksgiving):
I'm really enjoying being in our new home for the holidays. I'm a little bummed the holiday season snuck up so fast because I keep thinking I need more time to savor it. But I look around my house, with my newly decorated Christmas tree, the menorah waiting in the window for the first night of Hanukkah, and the stack of pine branches with which I hope to do something creative (If I wanted to fix them into a garland to twirl around my porch banister, would I need to soak them to make them soft first? What's the procedure for such a project?), and I am totally in the spirit.
It is good to be home, here.
That said, there is a still, small piece of me which aches just a bit. Last year I think it was snowing by this time, which distracted me from missing the rain of winter that I have known so well for a number of years. I miss the rain without any anticipation of snow. There is not the lush green of winter, benefiting from the constant rain, that I came to love in the northwest. Instead I look outside and see barren trees that have lost their leaves and grass that is beginning to turn a bit brown. Here when it rains in the winter, it is an icy hint that it is the season of snow. A long wait from fall to winter seems dreadful. I had read a week before Thanksgiving that we'd have snow showers on Thanksgiving, but as the day approached it was clear that wasn't going to happen. I'll admit I was rather disappointed that it didn't. It made me miss the rain that can feed the earth until the earth is ripe and green all winter long. If it's not going to snow, I find myself impatient with the sleeping earth, the dead leaves, the cold, dry days.
I miss the evergreens too. I love the fall here, with all the colors. There is truly nothing in the world like it. It is magnificent! But I find myself mournful for tall, thick truly ever-green trees with moss covered trunks that make the green tree from bottom to top. My office back in the northwest had a window that faced the edge of a small forested area. I remember the deer and the quiet, still sound of a barely noticeable breeze and the water falling down upon the earth in beautiful drops. And most especially, I remember those giant trees that reminded me each day what a very small part I am of the greater whole. It was a brilliant illustration that life is continual and unstoppable, and in balance in ways not always so obvious.
We were gifted with a beautiful, handsome tree this year. It is huge! Just huge! Tall and plush, and I just love it. We couldn't afford the gas but drove a half hour to get it anyway because G's brother told us he was working all week, every evening at the tree lot in his town, and we wanted to surprise the kids by showing up to get our tree at the lot. We fit it in one evening at the end of my work day, and the kids were tired and very cranky during the long drive. I just kept telling them to hang in there because we were going to a "very special tree lot." When we arrived, G's brother was not at the lot and G called her brother who said he was not in fact working that evening, but didn't offer to take a five minute drive from his home to see us anyway. This was the third or fourth time we've gone to see this part of our family in recent months-- kids crying and even sobbing along the way-- to no avail. I knew in my heart that I couldn't do this to the kids again, and that we don't have the money or time to invest in this kind of fruitless effort in the future. I knew in my heart that this would be our last attempt. I was sad about this, but we made a merry adventure out of finding the perfect tree, and I took lots of photos. As the kind men working at the lot were netting our tree so it could fit on top of our car, I asked them what farm the trees came from. "Actually," one of the kind men told me, "We get these shipped in from Novia Scotia!" I asked him how long ago our tree must have been cut, and he guessed it had been a couple of weeks.
I miss cutting down my tree from the land belonging to a member of the congregation who used the opportunity to thin the trees out a bit for the health of the land. Here, one of our congregation members has a farm with evergreen trees, but I haven't been invited to cut one down and I don't know of any local Christmas tree farms. There just aren't that many evergreens out here. No wonder the trees at tree lots are coming in from Canada. Heck, in the northwest it was hard to find a tree lot. I am now realizing that may have been because so many folks have local sources. So now I have a beautiful tree that I love and that was such a sweet gift to have been given, but I feel badly because it has a big old carbon footprint, and I doubt it will last more than a couple of days after Christmas because it isn't fresh in the least. It was a bittersweet evening that made me long for the place I had called home for years.
I miss the smell of rain. I even miss mud! I miss the fruit. I miss blackberries growing everywhere, yes, even though they were out of control. I miss Thai food. Really good Thai food. Here if you order a Thai spring roll, you get a vegetarian egg roll. I miss fresh spring rolls and peanut dipping sauce. I miss Chinese food that isn't greasy and thick west coast style pizza. I miss restaurants that serve Tabbouleh that really tastes like Tabbouleh, and mmm...I miss Costas Greek food in Seattle. I miss getting vegetarian "sushi" at the grocery store just down the street from me, for a treat every once in a while when we were too poor to eat out but too tired to make dinner...made fresh every day!
I miss food co-ops that weren't just people getting together to order in bulk, but also a place to shop...even at seven o'clock in the evening when you run out of milk. I even miss shopping in tiny, local stores where I used to complain about selection. I miss it being easy to buy organic food. I miss the college in the woods and the progressive, earthy types, even some of the college students who used to drive me a little batty. I miss the kid from the college who lived in the treehouse above the bakery. I miss neighbors keeping chickens in their yards. I miss Seattle's bus system (and even after we left Seattle, I miss the reliable even if infrequent bus system of the city we moved to). Sometimes buses here just never show up.
I miss the culture of the people. I miss the natural acceptance, warmth, and empathy, that while imperfect, was a good start. I most especially miss the relaxed atmosphere and the collaborative attitudes. I miss the slow, thoughtful pace, and the rhythm of the year. I miss people saying hello to each other and being free with compliments. Heck, I miss the way people got up in each other's business if it meant they could help out.
I miss random things like the Discount School Supply store, and I miss places where we built memories over the years, like the restaurant we stopped at on the way home from the hospital when M was just a newborn or the place we'd always go to celebrate anniversaries.
I might even miss having a huge backyard that we could never maintain (oh, how I love not having a yard to maintain here, hooray!). There were five evergreen trees and a handful of other trees including some fruit-bearing trees. I miss long conversations I would have out there, sitting on the stones watching my dogs play together while I chatted with neighbors or on the phone. I miss my dog Bluey being alive. He was hit by a car here last Valentine's day after his leash somehow came unclipped from his harness and he took off running. I hate even going into that section of town now. I find myself holding my breath through the drive whenever we go out there.
And then there is family. I didn't have any family back in the pacific northwest, though G's brother and his family live there (and I miss them too). But being out here, so close to all of G's family, while a blessing, makes me miss mine. And that makes me miss my hometown too, and perhaps that region of the United States in general as well. I miss snow that would come down like crazy, build up nice and deep, but melt a few days later. I miss snowy days when it was still sunny out. I miss knowing good places to go hiking, and I am sad I haven't really taken my kids hiking yet. I miss camping. Oh, how I miss camping. Real camping too, not just car camping. I miss the way spring smelled out there. I miss the sandwich I had made to order at the Pickle Barrel and the "Big Spud" dish I used to order at Avo's. I miss miso soup, and I miss local coffee shops. I miss Mexican food that you can only get in New Mexico, and I'd even go for a number of treasures in Colorado. I just miss good Mexican food. I miss the dry brown earth, the bright colorful paints, and the adobe of New Mexico, and I miss the flowers and the bike trails in Colorado. I miss bike lanes. I miss the mountains. I miss the smell of dusty roads. I miss sledding without getting cut on ice, and the fluffy snow that makes that possible. I miss the organized, even if loosely, glbt community. I miss used book stores and art supply stores. I miss my parent's yard and their neighborhood. I miss knowing my way to almost everything. I miss downtowns where there really is a "there" there. I miss my mom's art and her artist friends. I miss long summer nights, with a late sunset and warm, dry air.
I know I can't live really close to my family, but sometimes it feels we are really far. I miss a lot of things on behalf of my children, who aren't having in their early childhood experiences like playing sports with "sporty grandpa" and doing art hour with "Leelou." Nor hiking with their aunts and uncles. Nor camping by a river with advice as to where we should go from experienced campers in the family or among friends. Somehow that just doesn't feel like a complete early childhood to me. It just doesn't feel right. Today on the phone M said to my mom that we made cookies for Christmas (meaning, for when we decorated our tree). My mom misheard and thought he said we were visiting for Christmas. I of course jumped in and cleared it up, but it was a reminder of how I wish we could visit just for a short while. Boohoo!
Of course I could make a long post about all the things I love here. I'd start with the ocean and swimming in the summer, and move on from there with gladness. So I am not really complaining. Just feeling a little bittersweet and nostalgic. I've experienced a lot of change in this last year. I guess it catches up with me in little waves every now and then.
I'm really enjoying being in our new home for the holidays. I'm a little bummed the holiday season snuck up so fast because I keep thinking I need more time to savor it. But I look around my house, with my newly decorated Christmas tree, the menorah waiting in the window for the first night of Hanukkah, and the stack of pine branches with which I hope to do something creative (If I wanted to fix them into a garland to twirl around my porch banister, would I need to soak them to make them soft first? What's the procedure for such a project?), and I am totally in the spirit.
It is good to be home, here.
That said, there is a still, small piece of me which aches just a bit. Last year I think it was snowing by this time, which distracted me from missing the rain of winter that I have known so well for a number of years. I miss the rain without any anticipation of snow. There is not the lush green of winter, benefiting from the constant rain, that I came to love in the northwest. Instead I look outside and see barren trees that have lost their leaves and grass that is beginning to turn a bit brown. Here when it rains in the winter, it is an icy hint that it is the season of snow. A long wait from fall to winter seems dreadful. I had read a week before Thanksgiving that we'd have snow showers on Thanksgiving, but as the day approached it was clear that wasn't going to happen. I'll admit I was rather disappointed that it didn't. It made me miss the rain that can feed the earth until the earth is ripe and green all winter long. If it's not going to snow, I find myself impatient with the sleeping earth, the dead leaves, the cold, dry days.
I miss the evergreens too. I love the fall here, with all the colors. There is truly nothing in the world like it. It is magnificent! But I find myself mournful for tall, thick truly ever-green trees with moss covered trunks that make the green tree from bottom to top. My office back in the northwest had a window that faced the edge of a small forested area. I remember the deer and the quiet, still sound of a barely noticeable breeze and the water falling down upon the earth in beautiful drops. And most especially, I remember those giant trees that reminded me each day what a very small part I am of the greater whole. It was a brilliant illustration that life is continual and unstoppable, and in balance in ways not always so obvious.
We were gifted with a beautiful, handsome tree this year. It is huge! Just huge! Tall and plush, and I just love it. We couldn't afford the gas but drove a half hour to get it anyway because G's brother told us he was working all week, every evening at the tree lot in his town, and we wanted to surprise the kids by showing up to get our tree at the lot. We fit it in one evening at the end of my work day, and the kids were tired and very cranky during the long drive. I just kept telling them to hang in there because we were going to a "very special tree lot." When we arrived, G's brother was not at the lot and G called her brother who said he was not in fact working that evening, but didn't offer to take a five minute drive from his home to see us anyway. This was the third or fourth time we've gone to see this part of our family in recent months-- kids crying and even sobbing along the way-- to no avail. I knew in my heart that I couldn't do this to the kids again, and that we don't have the money or time to invest in this kind of fruitless effort in the future. I knew in my heart that this would be our last attempt. I was sad about this, but we made a merry adventure out of finding the perfect tree, and I took lots of photos. As the kind men working at the lot were netting our tree so it could fit on top of our car, I asked them what farm the trees came from. "Actually," one of the kind men told me, "We get these shipped in from Novia Scotia!" I asked him how long ago our tree must have been cut, and he guessed it had been a couple of weeks.
I miss cutting down my tree from the land belonging to a member of the congregation who used the opportunity to thin the trees out a bit for the health of the land. Here, one of our congregation members has a farm with evergreen trees, but I haven't been invited to cut one down and I don't know of any local Christmas tree farms. There just aren't that many evergreens out here. No wonder the trees at tree lots are coming in from Canada. Heck, in the northwest it was hard to find a tree lot. I am now realizing that may have been because so many folks have local sources. So now I have a beautiful tree that I love and that was such a sweet gift to have been given, but I feel badly because it has a big old carbon footprint, and I doubt it will last more than a couple of days after Christmas because it isn't fresh in the least. It was a bittersweet evening that made me long for the place I had called home for years.
I miss the smell of rain. I even miss mud! I miss the fruit. I miss blackberries growing everywhere, yes, even though they were out of control. I miss Thai food. Really good Thai food. Here if you order a Thai spring roll, you get a vegetarian egg roll. I miss fresh spring rolls and peanut dipping sauce. I miss Chinese food that isn't greasy and thick west coast style pizza. I miss restaurants that serve Tabbouleh that really tastes like Tabbouleh, and mmm...I miss Costas Greek food in Seattle. I miss getting vegetarian "sushi" at the grocery store just down the street from me, for a treat every once in a while when we were too poor to eat out but too tired to make dinner...made fresh every day!
I miss food co-ops that weren't just people getting together to order in bulk, but also a place to shop...even at seven o'clock in the evening when you run out of milk. I even miss shopping in tiny, local stores where I used to complain about selection. I miss it being easy to buy organic food. I miss the college in the woods and the progressive, earthy types, even some of the college students who used to drive me a little batty. I miss the kid from the college who lived in the treehouse above the bakery. I miss neighbors keeping chickens in their yards. I miss Seattle's bus system (and even after we left Seattle, I miss the reliable even if infrequent bus system of the city we moved to). Sometimes buses here just never show up.
I miss the culture of the people. I miss the natural acceptance, warmth, and empathy, that while imperfect, was a good start. I most especially miss the relaxed atmosphere and the collaborative attitudes. I miss the slow, thoughtful pace, and the rhythm of the year. I miss people saying hello to each other and being free with compliments. Heck, I miss the way people got up in each other's business if it meant they could help out.
I miss random things like the Discount School Supply store, and I miss places where we built memories over the years, like the restaurant we stopped at on the way home from the hospital when M was just a newborn or the place we'd always go to celebrate anniversaries.
I might even miss having a huge backyard that we could never maintain (oh, how I love not having a yard to maintain here, hooray!). There were five evergreen trees and a handful of other trees including some fruit-bearing trees. I miss long conversations I would have out there, sitting on the stones watching my dogs play together while I chatted with neighbors or on the phone. I miss my dog Bluey being alive. He was hit by a car here last Valentine's day after his leash somehow came unclipped from his harness and he took off running. I hate even going into that section of town now. I find myself holding my breath through the drive whenever we go out there.
And then there is family. I didn't have any family back in the pacific northwest, though G's brother and his family live there (and I miss them too). But being out here, so close to all of G's family, while a blessing, makes me miss mine. And that makes me miss my hometown too, and perhaps that region of the United States in general as well. I miss snow that would come down like crazy, build up nice and deep, but melt a few days later. I miss snowy days when it was still sunny out. I miss knowing good places to go hiking, and I am sad I haven't really taken my kids hiking yet. I miss camping. Oh, how I miss camping. Real camping too, not just car camping. I miss the way spring smelled out there. I miss the sandwich I had made to order at the Pickle Barrel and the "Big Spud" dish I used to order at Avo's. I miss miso soup, and I miss local coffee shops. I miss Mexican food that you can only get in New Mexico, and I'd even go for a number of treasures in Colorado. I just miss good Mexican food. I miss the dry brown earth, the bright colorful paints, and the adobe of New Mexico, and I miss the flowers and the bike trails in Colorado. I miss bike lanes. I miss the mountains. I miss the smell of dusty roads. I miss sledding without getting cut on ice, and the fluffy snow that makes that possible. I miss the organized, even if loosely, glbt community. I miss used book stores and art supply stores. I miss my parent's yard and their neighborhood. I miss knowing my way to almost everything. I miss downtowns where there really is a "there" there. I miss my mom's art and her artist friends. I miss long summer nights, with a late sunset and warm, dry air.
I know I can't live really close to my family, but sometimes it feels we are really far. I miss a lot of things on behalf of my children, who aren't having in their early childhood experiences like playing sports with "sporty grandpa" and doing art hour with "Leelou." Nor hiking with their aunts and uncles. Nor camping by a river with advice as to where we should go from experienced campers in the family or among friends. Somehow that just doesn't feel like a complete early childhood to me. It just doesn't feel right. Today on the phone M said to my mom that we made cookies for Christmas (meaning, for when we decorated our tree). My mom misheard and thought he said we were visiting for Christmas. I of course jumped in and cleared it up, but it was a reminder of how I wish we could visit just for a short while. Boohoo!
Of course I could make a long post about all the things I love here. I'd start with the ocean and swimming in the summer, and move on from there with gladness. So I am not really complaining. Just feeling a little bittersweet and nostalgic. I've experienced a lot of change in this last year. I guess it catches up with me in little waves every now and then.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
A Networking Blog
I've started a blog for the purpose of networking. I am hoping to gather together a group of folks in my region who are interested in a public Montessori school for the city in which I reside and work. Now I just have to start spreading the word (always a daunting task at first).
Anyway, if you are curious what that is about, check it out: http://worcestermontessori.blogspot.com/
Anyway, if you are curious what that is about, check it out: http://worcestermontessori.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Reflections on the Win...a Night To Never Forget
The night of the election, I drove to an election party at a local bar, my hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel as I heard what I thought was an announcer indicating that McCain had taken Pennsylvania. When I realized finally that they were talking about Obama, I relaxed slowly, not wanting to allow myself to believe until everything was for sure. I wandered into the bar tentatively. I wasn't meeting up with friends, and no matter what was about to happen, it was bound to be an emotional night.
I spent the first part of the evening tucked away in a crowded area of the bar, uninterested in expending the tremendous effort it would be to navigate the crowd only to stand in another crowded area. It was a good sized, diverse crowd. Lots of young folks. A fair chunk of old folks. Some folks were coming back and forth between the congressman's party and this party, but from what I heard, we were the younger crowd with more folks of color and more food and fun. I couldn't hear the reporters on the television, but the visual images were enough.
Obama. Obama.
Two more states for Obama.
Obama.
Another win for Obama.
McCain.
Well, that one was expected.
Two women finally started chatting with me, and pretty soon I began shaking hands and meeting the people around me. The mood was jubilant and cheerful, even if afraid to believe. A congregant from the church where I serve spotted me and came over. We chatted for a bit, and then he returned to the folks he was with. The energy was starting to buzz in the air.
The more time that went on, the more confident we all became. We watched the senate majority climb (yahoo!): 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56...
I was getting impatient. This all looked like such good news, and everyone began to feel ready for the announcement of Obama's win. It was late, and I was tired, but it all felt so imminent, and I didn't want to go home without hearing for sure. I distracted myself in conversations with the folks around me: what work we do, how long we have been in our city, in the state, how long we have been voting, what we like to do in our spare time. I haven't done anything social like that with total strangers for a long time.
In a moment of total distraction, I glanced up at the screen just as the announcement came across, "Barack Obama: President Elect." I didn't know if I should trust what I was seeing and hearing, but suddenly the crowd broke out in cheers. This was it.
I can't even begin to describe to you what that moment was like in that room. We were screaming and laughing, and we were all embracing one another. Strangers and friends all in one moment. A woman who moved to the United States from Kenya eight years ago stood in front of me, hands clasped together in the air for a long time after the first rush of cheers had died down. Another woman kept pounding her fists on the bar, and saying, "Now we are one. Now we are one." A woman originally from Rwanda stood staring at the television screen with tears streaming down her face. All of us were crying.
I wish I could convey to you better what it was like, but I can't. It was so visceral. It was this palpable healing energy. It did not fix everything, but it was needed to soothe our souls. I have never in my life experienced something quite like it, and I know I will be lucky if I experience it again.
There is a great post on one of the blogs I follow about the bittersweet moment this was, when on one hand so much progress was made and on another, so much ground was lost: http://monkeymindonline.blogspot.com/2008/11/joys-sorrows.html. But the words to a hymn come to mind: "We will get there. Heaven knows how we will get there, but we know we will."
There is a long road ahead of us. It will be hard. It will be full of pain and difficult decisions and hardship. Justice will not always be served. But I can see Obama isn't wasting time, nor disengaging from the public discourse that was the campaign: http://www.change.gov/. I am impressed.
I have been very teary since the election. My children may remember into adulthood the way we talk about how we have the power for positive change, and the way President Elect Obama has reminded us of that and called us to keep on keeping on. This is huge. Huge. May we never forget, and may we Get. To. Work.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
I Sure Do Live In a Very Different Place
A little over a year ago, I was completing my sixth (?) year of living in a town with weekly--sometimes multiple per week-- protests against the war.
So far I haven't seen any of those here, though I understand there was a second annual "peace vigil" last night at the other UU church in town (I couldn't go due to other things in which I was involved). Today, however, while driving home from work, I saw my kid's favorite park, which spans several blocks, completely surrounded by what appears to be people fresh from church, holding anti-abortion signs that said things like "Jesus saves and heals," "abortion is murder," and various biblical quotes relating to children.
I found myself thankful that I didn't have my kids in the car so I wouldn't have to explain what the anti-abortion signs were about. Why oh why did they choose a children's park of all places to conduct their protest? That just seems so, well, anti-family values. Shouldn't a mom have the right to shelter her three or five or seven year old from the concept of abortion? Thinking about their choice of venue makes me raging mad, actually. And I noticed that very few kids were playing at this usually very busy park.
[Edited to add: Please see my post-script comment in the comments section, where I name an "adoption is the loving option" sign as the most offensive among the signs]
Now, don't get me wrong. For one thing, I am fairly pro-choice in terms of political policy, but have in recent years become semi-conservative about abortion on a personal level. Though I would support a friend in her emotional process should she choose to have an abortion, I wouldn't ever be the one to suggest it. For another, back in my old town, there were certainly occassional anti-abortion protests, but it just seemed like such a striking contrast to my old town having never seen a protest here against the war, which also involves debate over things like "murder." I actually think if there was an anti-war protest here, there would be a lot of anger about it despite the fact that most Americans are very critical of the war.
On a lighter note, I am not a Sarah Silverman fan, but she did have this hilarious episode on her show where she unwittingly becomes an anti-abortion protestor. It is very funny, and if you can put up with Silverman's type of humor, and a totally irreverant and immoral take on abortion (remember, Sarah Silverman has even joked about cancer), I recommend it. I couldn't find the whole episode online, though, so instead I leave you with a clip from the end:
So far I haven't seen any of those here, though I understand there was a second annual "peace vigil" last night at the other UU church in town (I couldn't go due to other things in which I was involved). Today, however, while driving home from work, I saw my kid's favorite park, which spans several blocks, completely surrounded by what appears to be people fresh from church, holding anti-abortion signs that said things like "Jesus saves and heals," "abortion is murder," and various biblical quotes relating to children.
I found myself thankful that I didn't have my kids in the car so I wouldn't have to explain what the anti-abortion signs were about. Why oh why did they choose a children's park of all places to conduct their protest? That just seems so, well, anti-family values. Shouldn't a mom have the right to shelter her three or five or seven year old from the concept of abortion? Thinking about their choice of venue makes me raging mad, actually. And I noticed that very few kids were playing at this usually very busy park.
[Edited to add: Please see my post-script comment in the comments section, where I name an "adoption is the loving option" sign as the most offensive among the signs]
Now, don't get me wrong. For one thing, I am fairly pro-choice in terms of political policy, but have in recent years become semi-conservative about abortion on a personal level. Though I would support a friend in her emotional process should she choose to have an abortion, I wouldn't ever be the one to suggest it. For another, back in my old town, there were certainly occassional anti-abortion protests, but it just seemed like such a striking contrast to my old town having never seen a protest here against the war, which also involves debate over things like "murder." I actually think if there was an anti-war protest here, there would be a lot of anger about it despite the fact that most Americans are very critical of the war.
On a lighter note, I am not a Sarah Silverman fan, but she did have this hilarious episode on her show where she unwittingly becomes an anti-abortion protestor. It is very funny, and if you can put up with Silverman's type of humor, and a totally irreverant and immoral take on abortion (remember, Sarah Silverman has even joked about cancer), I recommend it. I couldn't find the whole episode online, though, so instead I leave you with a clip from the end:
Saturday, September 27, 2008
How It Went Last Night
I really, really enjoyed getting out and watching the debates. It was so much less lonely than watching them just by myself or with G. Politics is so much more fun when in a group. It was great fun to hear the laughter, groaning, or "what did he just say?!" type comments rush through the crowd.
It was a smallish crowd, but a crowd nonetheless. Maybe 18 or 20 other folks. The restaurant was not very conducive to mingling, however. There was the U-shaped bar that was very large and took up most of the room, and then several booths on one side (the far side from the door). When I arrived, all but one of the booths were filled with small groups of folks who had come together. The booth side of the bar (again, that would be the far side of the bar) was also filled with people who appeared to be present in pairs or small groups. Near the arched part of the "U" there were four or five folks standing and chatting, and after I sat down they went over to one of the booths. I would have had to "pardon me" my way through them to get to the other side of the bar. That wasn't very motivating because what would I have actually done once over there? Everyone seemed to have arrived there with people they knew, and were sitting and in conversation with one another. I couldn't even tell who was actually there for the party and who was just there as a patron of the bar.
I couldn't think of a comfortable way to break into conversation. It just didn't have a real "party" atmosphere, with folks mingling. I kept thinking of less shy people in my family and circle of friends, and wondering if they would have thought of a way to break through despite the lack of mingling. I hate being shy!
Anyway, I sat down on the side of the bar with open seats, next to a couple (the only people sitting on that side). They left about a half hour after the debate started. Apparently they were just patrons of the bar, not attendees of the event. A couple of guys sat down behind me and seemed to be watching the debate, but at some point before the end they changed over to the sports channel, so I am not sure they were there for the party either.
I took out my laptop only to find the battery was dead (I had wanted to charge it for an hour ahead of time, but had locked myself out of church just an hour before-- long story-- and that developed into its own issue, so I wasn't able to get to an outlet on time). I had brought along my electrical cord, but couldn't spot a place to plug it in. I ordered a drink and an appetizer and tried to sit sort of leaned back in my chair so it was obvious I was open for conversation. But people remained seated pretty much the whole party through. When the debate ended, I was hopeful that folks would start chatting and mingling, but if it happened, it wasn't during the time I was there. I stayed for a little while, but it was late and I was getting really tired...plus, lots of folks got up and left.
I bet if the restaurant had provided a simple appetizer or two to party attendees, and circulated among the crowd with those, that would have really helped to make it more of a "party" atmosphere and therefore a good mingling atmosphere. Perhaps they would have had to close off the bar except to those attendees in that case, but that would have actually been better too because then there wouldn't have been the question of who was there for what reason. I certainly would have had an easier time overcoming my shyness if I knew that everyone was there for the party like I was.
In the future, I would want to come early so that I hopefully don't get seated out of where the party is going on. I definitely think I would bring my laptop, and maybe wear a campaign button (which no one seemed to be wearing last night?). Those seem like good visible signals of who is attending for the party. And now that I have an idea of what to expect, maybe I can think ahead of time about some good icebreakers to use with the people who will surely be sitting around me since I will be on the correct side of the bar LOL. Good icebreaker suggestions are certainly welcome!
It was a smallish crowd, but a crowd nonetheless. Maybe 18 or 20 other folks. The restaurant was not very conducive to mingling, however. There was the U-shaped bar that was very large and took up most of the room, and then several booths on one side (the far side from the door). When I arrived, all but one of the booths were filled with small groups of folks who had come together. The booth side of the bar (again, that would be the far side of the bar) was also filled with people who appeared to be present in pairs or small groups. Near the arched part of the "U" there were four or five folks standing and chatting, and after I sat down they went over to one of the booths. I would have had to "pardon me" my way through them to get to the other side of the bar. That wasn't very motivating because what would I have actually done once over there? Everyone seemed to have arrived there with people they knew, and were sitting and in conversation with one another. I couldn't even tell who was actually there for the party and who was just there as a patron of the bar.
I couldn't think of a comfortable way to break into conversation. It just didn't have a real "party" atmosphere, with folks mingling. I kept thinking of less shy people in my family and circle of friends, and wondering if they would have thought of a way to break through despite the lack of mingling. I hate being shy!
Anyway, I sat down on the side of the bar with open seats, next to a couple (the only people sitting on that side). They left about a half hour after the debate started. Apparently they were just patrons of the bar, not attendees of the event. A couple of guys sat down behind me and seemed to be watching the debate, but at some point before the end they changed over to the sports channel, so I am not sure they were there for the party either.
I took out my laptop only to find the battery was dead (I had wanted to charge it for an hour ahead of time, but had locked myself out of church just an hour before-- long story-- and that developed into its own issue, so I wasn't able to get to an outlet on time). I had brought along my electrical cord, but couldn't spot a place to plug it in. I ordered a drink and an appetizer and tried to sit sort of leaned back in my chair so it was obvious I was open for conversation. But people remained seated pretty much the whole party through. When the debate ended, I was hopeful that folks would start chatting and mingling, but if it happened, it wasn't during the time I was there. I stayed for a little while, but it was late and I was getting really tired...plus, lots of folks got up and left.
I bet if the restaurant had provided a simple appetizer or two to party attendees, and circulated among the crowd with those, that would have really helped to make it more of a "party" atmosphere and therefore a good mingling atmosphere. Perhaps they would have had to close off the bar except to those attendees in that case, but that would have actually been better too because then there wouldn't have been the question of who was there for what reason. I certainly would have had an easier time overcoming my shyness if I knew that everyone was there for the party like I was.
In the future, I would want to come early so that I hopefully don't get seated out of where the party is going on. I definitely think I would bring my laptop, and maybe wear a campaign button (which no one seemed to be wearing last night?). Those seem like good visible signals of who is attending for the party. And now that I have an idea of what to expect, maybe I can think ahead of time about some good icebreakers to use with the people who will surely be sitting around me since I will be on the correct side of the bar LOL. Good icebreaker suggestions are certainly welcome!
Friday, August 15, 2008
And Now Some Art From Our House
A park near our home features art sculptures in the summer. Today there was a special 12-hour event of community sculpture making. I took the kids and while we were there we contributed two pink prints the kids made and two tie dye fabric-like paper scraps. It was a great time! We took the bus there, and afterward we walked to the store where K. decided to draw a small crowd with some mad crazy ASL.
Tonight the kids were telling my mom all about our day over the phone. My mom asked if I took pictures of the sculpture-making. I didn't. Crap, that would have been such a good idea, but I didn't even think of it.
So, as a tribute to our day, here is some art anyway. This is a rainbow, by M. You can see he started to erase it, but I ran in and told him to stop the presses so I could take a picture.
Tonight the kids were telling my mom all about our day over the phone. My mom asked if I took pictures of the sculpture-making. I didn't. Crap, that would have been such a good idea, but I didn't even think of it.
So, as a tribute to our day, here is some art anyway. This is a rainbow, by M. You can see he started to erase it, but I ran in and told him to stop the presses so I could take a picture.
We saw a beautiful double-rainbow on G. and my wedding anniversary, and the kids have been absolutely enthralled by rainbows since. We've done some science, making rainbows with a flashlight and jar of water. It's not as easy as I had hoped, but G. has become pretty adept at it.
Life is good. I want to live in an awareness of that.
Friday, June 27, 2008
"Use Your Walking Feet..."
...It's a very silly parental phrase I picked up goodness knows where. It means, "walk," as opposed to running.
Tonight, it was as if some divine parent said it to me, "Use your walking feet 'Masasa.'" But "walk" was in opposition to driving. The battery on my van died while I was at work. G. is sure she turned off all lights in the van before giving it to me to drive to work, but she was moving dozens of boxes in and out of the van this morning, and it appears one of the back lights got flicked on. She must not have noticed that one.
So I walked home, since G. was already asleep in bed (as were the kids).
I had really worked up in my mind what this walk was going to be like, when we first put an offer on this house and I was considering changes I might make in my transportation choices. I have never liked walking. It actually makes me feel irritable, especially when the weather is not perfect walking weather. I would rather bike or skate (not rollerblade, apparently, as I have failed miserably so far at that). This walk seemed like it would be pleasurable for the first half, near the downtown area where there were things to see and people still out and about. But the second half seemed like it would be a bit dreadful to me. There is a stretch of road with quiet houses on one side and a mildly wooded area on the other side. The street lights are more stretched out, so it gets dark too. I don't like walking in the first place, but walking without landmarks is an especially dreadful activity.
I felt before doing it that the second half of the walk would be a boring one. Instead, I found the whole walk to be rather invigorating.
The first part was easy, as I suspected. I did stop at a restaurant after the first 0.3 miles or so, and thankfully there were several still open (it was around 11:45pm), just to get a sandwich since I hadn't had a real dinner and mainly to hear someone's voice besides my own. I got a cheese and veggie sub and some homefries, and ate a few bites before putting it away in my bag. Between taking some bites and checking out the different businesses, I kept my mind fairly busy. Before I knew it, I hit the grocery store that I know is between 0.7 and 0.8 miles from my house. This felt encouraging...I was getting so close.
The next stretch was the part I had been dreading. In fact, I suddenly noticed there was a little hill in front of me just to add an additional irritation. I know, I know, a little hill-- one I'd never even noticed before-- should be no big deal. But it has been a while since I've taken a walk this long aside from times when I've set out to "go hiking." I'll admit I am not in good shape right now. Nonetheless, my mind went drifting and I didn't notice I was on the hill for some time. Suddenly my other thoughts stopped and I said to myself, "man, I am getting a little tired...my feet and legs are starting to hurt." And then I realized I was on the hill, and I felt better knowing this was the cause.
When I reached the top of the hill, I could see the roundabout that is one of the central pieces of my neighborhood! I also could see a school that the neighborhood kids attend. "If they walk home from here," I thought, "I must be close." So much for no landmarks!
Soon, I was in the roundabout. At that point, mild anxiety arouse again as I considered that it felt like I was "almost home," but in fact, my street was still a ways up the road, and my house is about 0.3 miles up my street. But it wasn't too bad getting to my street. The longest stretch of the whole walk was probably the one on my own street, as it had fewer landmarks and was the darkest of them all. But I made it home in the exact amount of time I predicted: about 40 minutes. I live about two miles from my work, so I was walking a 20 minute mile, more or less, which is what I predicted. I do hate walking after all, and am out of shape, but 20 minutes seems average.
My realizations include:
Tonight, it was as if some divine parent said it to me, "Use your walking feet 'Masasa.'" But "walk" was in opposition to driving. The battery on my van died while I was at work. G. is sure she turned off all lights in the van before giving it to me to drive to work, but she was moving dozens of boxes in and out of the van this morning, and it appears one of the back lights got flicked on. She must not have noticed that one.
So I walked home, since G. was already asleep in bed (as were the kids).
I had really worked up in my mind what this walk was going to be like, when we first put an offer on this house and I was considering changes I might make in my transportation choices. I have never liked walking. It actually makes me feel irritable, especially when the weather is not perfect walking weather. I would rather bike or skate (not rollerblade, apparently, as I have failed miserably so far at that). This walk seemed like it would be pleasurable for the first half, near the downtown area where there were things to see and people still out and about. But the second half seemed like it would be a bit dreadful to me. There is a stretch of road with quiet houses on one side and a mildly wooded area on the other side. The street lights are more stretched out, so it gets dark too. I don't like walking in the first place, but walking without landmarks is an especially dreadful activity.
I felt before doing it that the second half of the walk would be a boring one. Instead, I found the whole walk to be rather invigorating.
The first part was easy, as I suspected. I did stop at a restaurant after the first 0.3 miles or so, and thankfully there were several still open (it was around 11:45pm), just to get a sandwich since I hadn't had a real dinner and mainly to hear someone's voice besides my own. I got a cheese and veggie sub and some homefries, and ate a few bites before putting it away in my bag. Between taking some bites and checking out the different businesses, I kept my mind fairly busy. Before I knew it, I hit the grocery store that I know is between 0.7 and 0.8 miles from my house. This felt encouraging...I was getting so close.
The next stretch was the part I had been dreading. In fact, I suddenly noticed there was a little hill in front of me just to add an additional irritation. I know, I know, a little hill-- one I'd never even noticed before-- should be no big deal. But it has been a while since I've taken a walk this long aside from times when I've set out to "go hiking." I'll admit I am not in good shape right now. Nonetheless, my mind went drifting and I didn't notice I was on the hill for some time. Suddenly my other thoughts stopped and I said to myself, "man, I am getting a little tired...my feet and legs are starting to hurt." And then I realized I was on the hill, and I felt better knowing this was the cause.
When I reached the top of the hill, I could see the roundabout that is one of the central pieces of my neighborhood! I also could see a school that the neighborhood kids attend. "If they walk home from here," I thought, "I must be close." So much for no landmarks!
Soon, I was in the roundabout. At that point, mild anxiety arouse again as I considered that it felt like I was "almost home," but in fact, my street was still a ways up the road, and my house is about 0.3 miles up my street. But it wasn't too bad getting to my street. The longest stretch of the whole walk was probably the one on my own street, as it had fewer landmarks and was the darkest of them all. But I made it home in the exact amount of time I predicted: about 40 minutes. I live about two miles from my work, so I was walking a 20 minute mile, more or less, which is what I predicted. I do hate walking after all, and am out of shape, but 20 minutes seems average.
My realizations include:
- Since I am not big on walking, I wouldn't want to walk this everyday, but I think biking it will be a breeze, and I think I'd be willing to walk it on occasion.
- Tonight was a cool night, but humid. I came home somewhat chilly but also damp and sticky (ick!). I don't think I could have tolerated the humidity if it had been hot out. I was glad to be walking when the sun was down.
- I think I could walk this with M., if not the full way, at least partially (and we have already taken a bus to my work, so we could catch a bus if he got tired). I wouldn't do it with K., on the other hand. She is a hard kid to walk with in general: she gets tired very fast and also does a lot of funny walking (walking while putting her head and shoulders down so she yanks off your arm, etc.). I might try it sometime with her in a stroller, but in this weather I can't imagine tolerating our beloved backpack/frontpack carrier because we'd both be soaking...and the sling would irritate my old car-accident related upper back injury (the injury that has given me daily headaches for about five years now).
- The sidewalks for the most part are great on this walk! Nice and wide...very old New England. You don't see sidewalks going in like this anymore. It makes for a much more pleasurable walk, and if absolutely necessary, could be a safe albeit illegal haven for a biker trying to avoid crazy New England drivers. There are some stretches of sidewalks with big tree roots going right through, ripped up and ill-maintained. But most of it is nice.
- On my way, I passed a street sign where there was no street. It was a street name followed by "Terrace." It appears it is a footpath Terrace. I found that to be a delightful discovery...it felt like it must be an old street that survived the invention of cars unscathed!
All in all, I am reminded once again that sometimes I build things up in my mind to be much more difficult or unappealing than they actually are. I am glad for this reminder.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Galileo
First, one more picture from work. It is not a good one, but it's a little slice of nature anyway.
Various notes...
House
1. Our offer is in on the house. Within 24 hours, we'll know whether it has been accepted (but even if it is accepted, of course, that doesn't mean we're in the "clear" because then there will be inspections and further negotiation, etc). I think we put in a very competitive offer. Someone could still beat us out, but we were trying to also be as gentle as we could be on our bank account despite the good chance that this will be a bidding war in the end. My agent said she'd call if she heard anything at all about another offer coming in so we could re-write our offer if desired. No call yet, so baited breath...
2. With the offer, I submitted the letter. I asked my agent about letters, and she said they were a fine thing to do, and that sometimes personalizing the offer helps. After reading it, she said she could go either way. On further discussion, we eliminated only this: "We will present to you the best offer we can afford..." We kept the letter exactly as-is otherwise, and went ahead and put it in with the offer.
3. If all goes well, we'll be moving next month.
4. Things I am thinking about now:
Other
Remember the band Queen? Remember Brian May? Did you know he is Dr. Brian May, astrophysicist? I heard him on NPR today http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=90273890, and I loved hearing him talk about the way his worlds intermix. What a joy!
Various notes...
House
1. Our offer is in on the house. Within 24 hours, we'll know whether it has been accepted (but even if it is accepted, of course, that doesn't mean we're in the "clear" because then there will be inspections and further negotiation, etc). I think we put in a very competitive offer. Someone could still beat us out, but we were trying to also be as gentle as we could be on our bank account despite the good chance that this will be a bidding war in the end. My agent said she'd call if she heard anything at all about another offer coming in so we could re-write our offer if desired. No call yet, so baited breath...
2. With the offer, I submitted the letter. I asked my agent about letters, and she said they were a fine thing to do, and that sometimes personalizing the offer helps. After reading it, she said she could go either way. On further discussion, we eliminated only this: "We will present to you the best offer we can afford..." We kept the letter exactly as-is otherwise, and went ahead and put it in with the offer.
3. If all goes well, we'll be moving next month.
4. Things I am thinking about now:
- Giving notice to our landlord
- Pool safety and also pool covers-- options. Also, caring for pools, salt water system conversions, etc.
- The lead inspection-- how to minimize costs related to lead abatement.
- The utility bills. For heat and hot water, given the use of oil and single zone heating, we are looking at a huge monthly bill. We're wondering if converting to gas is possible in this house, but I didn't notice a gas line. Maybe at least converting to zones? Electric? What's the cost of all this? When can we do this? It is anticipated that next year's oil will go up to $7/gallon! Those predicting the fossil fuel economy is crumbling before our eyes, starting with oil, just might be correct yet!
- Other environmental-economical issues on the domestic front: Is biking/bussing to work now an option (it is a flat and straight shot, but I am a little concerned about safety because the streets out here are crazy and the drivers are crazier). How far is the nearest grocery store from this house, and can we walk there with a wagon...what kind of sidewalks or lack thereof would the route involve? Can we get a wood stove and start stockpiling wood for next winter in case there is a fossil fuel crisis? Can one build a small raised bed vegetable garden on a small plot of concrete...and how does a novice with no natural gardening abilities go about getting started with such a project? How much does a push mower cost and where can we get one so we can replace our old gas mower (which we liked a lot for our former large lawn)?
- The roof-- how much life is left on it and what to do next and will this become part of the negotiations.
- Dog poop-- where will our dog go poop? *That* is the question.
- Neighborhood schools-- will I ask to visit our new neighborhood school and consider a placement for M. there next year in the preschool he gets via his IEP?
- Tax money. We could use some for closing costs, etc. Have we received any yet? What is on its way? What will we be waiting for, for a while?
- How to stay focused at work with all this going on! I can't stop my mind from going a million miles a minute right now. Eeek.
- How will I cope with the disappointment if this doesn't work out? If our offer isn't accepted or if things come unraveled in negotiations?
- And where or where is my trusted Virgin Homeowners Manual? I love that book and want to dig it out before inspections, which I need to get working on scheduling right away if our offer gets accepted tomorrow because we set our deadline for seven days.
Other
Remember the band Queen? Remember Brian May? Did you know he is Dr. Brian May, astrophysicist? I heard him on NPR today http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=90273890, and I loved hearing him talk about the way his worlds intermix. What a joy!
Friday, May 2, 2008
Bloom Where You Are Planted
The sun was on its way down when I took these photos, but hopefully they are bright enough for our purposes.Here is the view to the left of the church where I serve, heading up our urban street. The trees on the right are "our trees," Bradford Pear trees (non-fruit bearing??) that, according to the senior minister, were purchased in 1986 by some members of the congregation in a cooperative effort with the city to beautify the street.
When they arrived, she said, the saplings were so scrawny and spindly that she was sure they wouldn't survive the winter. Indeed, they did survive, and the tallest is now about 40 feet tall. As you can see above, they nearly touch the trees across the street, next to the Methodist church.
This is the view through the trees, looking up at our steeple. Beautiful. These trees are amazing. They make me think of a type of tree I remember from back in Colorado that has tons of compact balls of small white flowers. They look like snowballs.
In the tree out by my new church, however, the flowers are in smaller, much less compact bunches, and there are these sweet little green leaves that stick out at the ends of each bunch, adding a perfectly-placed accent of color.
I am a city girl. I've always preferred the urban life to the suburban, and certainly to country living. Even if I loved the country, I know I could not survive there. I am not only missing a green thumb, but most everything I try to grow experiences a quick demise in my hands.
Nonetheless, I have a deep appreciation for green, living, growing things, and for mother earth, our home. Just because I need a reminder every year about things as simple as the difference between an annual and a perennial does not mean that I have never sat on the side of a mountain in awe at the smallness of me and the vastness of the ground upon which I sat.
Indeed, some of my most profound spiritual experiences have been on a silent mountainside and/or deep in a tall forest.
One of the things I miss most about Washington State is the green. In Western Washington, we had two notable seasons: rainy and dry. The dry season was our shorter season, lasting a few months each year. It was a short enough season that many folks did not water their lawns, and there would be rows of houses surrounded by brown.
But the whole rest of the year, the earth was green from the heavy, lush ground cover, all the way up the large moss-covered tree trunks, until the green of the leaves on the trees met the sky. I am sure you can understand, from the below photo, why I miss it so dearly.
The above photo from Washington State is not my own (it came from http://www.flickr.com/photos/burchdc/1465029060/in/photostream/). But it is the dominant scene of the area, and a similar picture could have just as easily been taken at a park near our old home. I do miss that. And the rain.
The church I previously served was on the edge of the city, a terribly tucked away location I felt, yet each day when I came into work, I would look behind the church into the small forested area against which it was set, and I felt a sense of peace and calm that I am having trouble finding here.
However, I keep getting the feeling that the more I connect with the earth here in New England, the more grounded I will feel on this land, and the more connected I will feel to this place and its people. The more I connect with the ground upon which I now stand, the better able I will be to bloom where I am planted. And blooming where one is planted is critical for happiness.
So I have been taking walks and admiring all the beautiful flowering plants. (And I am looking forward to our beach time this summer.)
(I think the above one is called forsythia. My photo, taken at night, does not do it justice at all whatsoever.)
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