Friday, December 23, 2005

one more before Christmas break


Merry Christmas, dear friends. I know only about 5 people read this so I don't get to tell as many as I would like but at least I get to say it to you. I hope that 2006 is better for all of us because I don't think 2005 has been a banner year for anyone I know and certainly it hasn't been too swift for me. I have a little of that cautious optimism going still and I believe that 2006 will bring peace and resolution to a lot of people I know. I think this time next year we're all going to feel a lot better.

A couple of years ago I sent out a Christmas letter with a poem by U.A. Fanthorpe that I loved... Tim said nobody got it. Before I sign off for a few days I thought I'd share it here... because I believe people will get it. I think it's pretty profound to think that one child's birth literally changed the way we define time.

BC:AD
This was the moment when Before
Turned into After, and the future's
Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.
This was the moment when nothing
Happened. Only dull peace
Sprawled boringly over the earth.
This was the moment when even energetic Romans
Could find nothing better to do
Than counting heads in remote provinces.
And this was the moment
When a few farm workers and three
Members of an obscure Persian sect
Walked haphazard by starlight straight
Into the kingdom of heaven.

(By the way, that's my new grand-nephew standing in for the baby Jesus.)

Merry Christmas, Rose

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

pray hard

I love hands. In my favorite baby picture I look not at the faces but rather at the hands: how my mother is holding me and how I hold mine out to touch the photographer, the camera, the world. That I am reaching out for something is abundantly clear.

In the last few years, my oft abused hands have started showing my age. My face doesn't as much... I'm often guessed to be younger than my 38 years, sometimes much younger. But my hands tell the story. Puffy from salty holiday food and an overheated office, broken nails dotted with those little white marks people sometimes get, scars, a new mole, heavy lines. I have a numb spot and a c-shaped scar on the tip of my left ring finger from when I cut the tip with a kitchen knife one Saturday morning. I still remember all the places I had terrible warts as a young teen and a skin rash attributed to "nervousness" when I was a girl. I am constantly lotioning and balming all winter long to ward off dryness and hangnails. I joke that my hands are my picture of Dorian Grey-- while my face doesn't show my age, my hands grow older by the minute.

Today, though, besides the usual physical flaws and the simple, beautiful wedding rings T bought me, there is a new addition to my hand. My friend Frau Lobster sat with me over dinner last night and in conversation, pulled something off her finger. "I got you this a long time ago," she said, dropping a silver ring on the table. Carved in to the band were the words, "Pray Hard". I immediately tried it on every digit until I found the one that fit best. I was glad to slip it on my own finger while it was still warm from hers.

Today I catch myself looking at it often. I've been needing a reminder lately because I feel like I've been reaching for God and He's been just out of touch. I know that I'm the one that has drifted away -- because God never moves. So I look down and I remember that I need to talk to him. After all, it's open communication that creates intimacy in relationships and the reminder to "pray hard" is just what I need right now.

Just as I was in that long ago baby picture, I guess I'm still grasping for something.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Welcome home, little birdie


After 4 months in Spain, our girl is finally coming home. Her jubilant father just e-mailed me to tell me the "birdie has landed" at Newark, NJ. By tonight she'll be tucked in to her bed in middle America with visions of Spanish sugarplums dancing in her head.

It is a troubling, joyful truth that we parent-types work to give our children a glimpse of what is possible, even knowing that when they see for themselves, they may never want to come home. For now the birdie is home to roost but she's already planning to fly away again -- and maybe next time, for good.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Christmas gifts I would like to give


Wendy McClure over at Pound has a list of things she'd like to get for Christmas, which inspired me this morning to create a list of things I'd like to give ... and a few things I would like to get.

1) For T: comfort, peace, a sudden overload of holiday cheer and a job he can love, get promoted in and retire from. Comfortably. Also a killer BBQ sauce recipe we can later sell to Kingsford.

2) For A: an open-ended, use-whenever-she-wants ticket to Spain and a vision of heaven she can get excited about. Also when she's in Spain, menus with pictures in every restaurant.

3) For K: a four-year scholarship to the school of her choice and the confidence to be true to herself. Also, her own Bath & Bodyworks store with constantly rotating stock of new scents.

4) For mom: a 30 year old body to go with her 30 year old mind and all the chicken livers and vanilla cokes she wants with no consequences.

5)For the Lobster and Frau & Deester and Ern: perfect health for every member of the family: no more pills, no more surgeries, no more runs to the emergency room. And a magic wormhole that zaps me to them in seconds, not hours.

6) For MT: to wake up on Christmas morning like Jimmy Stewart in "It's a Wonderful Life" and realize it was all a horrible dream and things are as they should be.

7) for the boss: normal, boring relatives.

8)for the Cat: her boy back (and the only attitude he has is "new"). And a miracle baby 'cause she's crazy and thinks she wants one.

For myself I would like to know the perfect thing to say and do every time I open my mouth. I would like a scale that always reads 135# and a body to match. I would like about 150 do-overs. And today, I'd take a chair and a fireplace and my cats and a good book.

Friday, December 09, 2005

Habla usted Ingles?

My post today was inspired by the above article. I am not going to even address the hateful comments made by some who view Kansas as barefoot-ignorant and undeserving of a place in the Union. To get things rolling, I pose two questions: 1) what is our national language and 2) why does it matter?

A: Surprise! The U.S. has no national language. While we have a national bird, a national anthem, even a national flower, there is no national language. But we've been doing OK so far: for a while now, everyone's been getting off the boat and generally agreeing to American English. We've managed to work in some non-English words too -- we borrow liberally from everyone to reflect the many Irish, Italian, German, Polish, Greek, Cuban, Chinese, etc. etc. people who've joined our ranks here in the USA over the last 300 years. But mostly we speak English.

A #2: A national language is really only about convenience. In basic terms, taxpayers don't want to pay what it would take to communicate to the hundreds of nationalities that live here in their own native tongues. Until science perfects a Star-trekkie instant language converter, we have to manage the old fashioned way: we have to learn the dominant language of the country in which we choose to live. Therefore, if I decided to say, move to Spain, I would definitely need to work on the Castillian, 'cause mine sucks. If I wanted to move to France, well, I just wouldn't. French seems too hard.

I guess it could also be a sign of unity and maybe that's why we're struggling now... It's no longer really cool in the world view to be "American". The world thinks we're fat, we're arrogant and we have lousy food. They want our lifestyle but no longer want our culture or our values. In my opinion this is starting to foster a national attitude of self-loathing and has made us kind of cranky and fractious.

Moving on to the issue of Spanish vs. English:
Hispanics moving to the US want to preserve their language and their culture. Hooray for them. That's not sarcastic, I mean it. It's great. BUT if you want your kids educated in public school they should 1) be told to follow instructions and 2) it should be expected that they will need to speak the dominant, if unofficial, language, which is English. If you want your kids to speak only Spanish, you should home school. (Again, if you are going to move to another country to live, it really behooves you to learn the language. And yes, I know it takes time: we'll wait.)

The kid in question was born here-- Spanish is no more his "native language" than French is mine. His father's - yes. OK. But he is, whether he likes it or not, (North) American -- just as I am. The thing that really jumped out to me when I read this article is that this incident took place in an alternate high school, known here as AEP. That means this 17 year old American kid was kicked out of regular high school -- I'm sure he didn't just up and volunteer to go to AEP, which is usually not a super-fun place to be. He was warned previously that day about speaking in Spanish and if quizzed, probably a whole bunch of times before that. I know it sounds dumb to make a rule against speaking Spanish, but consider: I don't know about you but if I'm a teacher in any high school and particularly an urban AEP, I want to know what the kids are saying. If this information is still applicable in 2005 (and I'm sure it is), 4 out of every 100 teachers is attacked by a student... in a district the size of USD 500, Turner and Piper (lumped here for convenience and referred to as the KCK schools) that's about 2 teachers per year being jumped by kids. But that's a national average, which factors in rural and private schools. These are urban schools and in urban schools the numbers are higher. So asking a 17-year old American male who is months away from being an adult and most likely pretty grownup sized to speak English in an AEP suddenly becomes more reasonable, at least it does to me.

To summarize, I think it might be wise for the federal government to designate something as the national language, as our neighbors to the north have done. English seems the natural choice as it is still the primary language of at least 70% of Americans. This is not to exclude anyone but rather to preclude any more bickering and any possible lawsuits that may come of the issue. We've more important things to worry about, don't we?And following the crafty Canuck's example, we can designate a second language, too, this perhaps being Spanish. Why not? It couldn't hurt our kids to be bilingual -- practically every other country in the world requires their kids to learn another language. We can too.

If schools want to preclude kids from speaking anything except proper English, they better have it in writing and give the parents plenty of warning and a reasonable explanation. Personally I think they should preclude kids from talking teenagerish: this means no use of the words "like", "totally", "tight", "da bomb", "hella" and "bling". I find that far more obnoxious and just as indecipherable (Good God when did I become an old lady?).

And, finally, if you want to preserve your culture, please do so. Most of us in the US are pretty open minded. We understand that you don't want to forget your background -- neither do we. That's why we celebrate St. Patrick's Day, Cinco de Mayo, Columbus Day. That's why there are still places where whole towns plant tulips in the spring and why you can walk in to the stores and buy anything from Kimchi to Kolachis. But let's NOT twist what is really a disciplinary matter and make it in to a racist incident. While we have certainly had our problems in the past it's still a national point of pride that this may be the one place on earth where pretty much everyone is welcome.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

snow day



Coming to work when there's 8" of snow on the ground is not so much fun, except that my boss sometimes feels bad for those of us who actually hauled our cookies in, so we get free pizza. That's cool.

Here's a picture of the view out the front door as T was shoveling our cars out at the crack of dawn (the one still covered in snow is mine... it's behind the car on the right)and the view from the back door to the deck (which was frozen shut). Brrrr.

K was still toasty warm in bed when we left ... made me want to go in and mess with her a little bit. But I remember the joy of the high school snow day ... my mom and I would sleep late and then get up and make these long sled runs and sled with the dogs on our laps. So I let her be.

Our weather forcasters called for the following amounts on Tuesday night:
CBS - 6"
ABC - 1-2"
Fox - 2-3"
NBC - 2-4"

Actual amounts around town? 7.3-9.5". One more reason why the most reliable weather coverage we have here is the ol' "walk out your door" method. This approach is especially amusing when you do and the weathercasters don't and as you're watching the hail/rain/snow fall they say "we might see some precipitation ..." No kiddin'. Thanks.

In the meantime I'm enjoying a quiet day at the office, some hot chocolate and looking forward to the pizza.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

cozy




Crappy weather inspires me to go inside and start rearranging the furniture. It's been cold and grey and threatening snow now for 3 days.

This weekend was enjoyable for the sheer fact that I got to "cute up" my house a little bit. We spent all day Saturday running: eye doctor, car service, lunch with in-laws, auto parts store, cleaning out the cars, Christmas shopping, grocery shopping. By the time we stopped it was nearly 9pm and my house was still under 3" of dust and cat hair and the tree was still in the attic. So, Sunday after church, the fun got under way. Let me tell you, there is nothing a man loves better than moving furniture. After a large amount of grouching on his part, I finally let him climb underneath that afghan you see on the couch and nap while I enjoyed the benefits of my spiffy new Dirt Devil and cleaned enough cat hair out of our house to knit a new cat.

At 12:30 am Monday morning I finally finished turning the place upside down and putting up what modest Christmas decorations I was in the mood for. I think the results are ... cozy. My mother did a good job of teaching me how to do something with not much. For this I thank her, a lot. Amusing little side notes about the above picture: 1) I bet not many people you know under the age of 70 still have a console TV! Yep, that baby's probably 20 years old and hasn't died yet. 2) The brown lump in the chair is my favorite Christmas reindeer. He's super soft and has little bells on his antlers. 3) Notice the position of honor the Grinch gets on the tree. T does love the Grinch. 4) I gotta get rid of those granny lace sheers sometime, that's a little too much lace for me.

For now, anyway, the house is clean, the tree is up, some of the gifts are purchased (although none are wrapped, that's next) and my house is pleasing to me.

OK, NOW let the Holiday season begin!

Thursday, December 01, 2005

finished photo album

pics from Spain

and this is the last time I talk about it, I promise...

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

November 13/14 - Barcelona


Last full day in Spain.

After breakfast at the hotel we took off walking in a light rain that became a heavy one. Stopped to buy a cheap umbrella and headed off to the beach. It absolutely poured, so much that before we got to the Colon statue my feet were sopping inside my shoes -- I could see water bubbling and squishing out of the seams. I kept praying for the rain to stop -- and you know, it did! And not just for a little while but for about 5 hours, which was extra nice of God.

We followed the waterfront walk past some brightly colored graffiti to Playa Barceloneta and went down the steps to the shore to get her sand and my mom's rocks. We've been picking up sand for the birdie from every beach we've been to since 1993 and she has a great collection of mementos from all over the world. Lacking a film canister (my personal favorite receptacle for beach sand) we used a plastic cup I grubbed from the trash. The waves were dark and dramatic since it had been storming and the water was icy cold but I had to stick my feet in it anyway. I love the ocean -- always have -- so whenever I get close I like to just stand on shore and watch it go in and out. They had built a walkway and on the walkway were a group of concrete lounge chairs, all facing the sea but angled off slightly to the right (south). It took me a minute to realize they were facing the sunrise. That to me speaks Spain perfectly -- a city with a place dedicated just to watching the sun come up each day over the beautiful Mediterranean. We sat down on those chairs to catch a little bit of the weak sunshine and wring out socks and brush off the sand before heading off toward Barri Gotic.

Per my usual dumb luck we came up on the side of Santa Maria del Mar and went in. Saw some older Catalonians laying flowers at the memorial for the martyrs of the War of Spanish Succession -- unfortunately Catalunya picked the wrong side. Walked out the front and headed toward the main cathedral (Le Seu) and just caught the end of mass a 15 minute break and the beginning of another. I made a quick round of all the chapels and made myself small while they started mass again. A and I walked out the front and over to the gift shop and then all around the cathedral area, including an art installation that protested the violation of human rights all over the world. It was the most grotesque thing I had ever seen -- life size bronze statues of mutilated bodies hanging from ropes. If the artist's intent was to disturb, he or she did an excellent job.

For lunch, A picked a Mexican restaurant and after my considerable harassment we had a good lunch. As you can imagine, Mexican restaurants are sort of a novelty in Spain and they're extremely plentiful at home so I found her choice curious but hey, I'm just here to please (and pay the check).

Barcelona is an awesome city, so diverse and interesting. Walking down the sidewalks you hear Catalan, Castilliano, French, German, English, Chinese. This is the off season and a Sunday, yet the sidewalks are filled with people. I can see why people choose Barcelona over Madrid, even though I think both have a lot to offer. I'd love to come back some day.

At 4pm we ducked back in to the hotel so A could gather up her things and at 5 I put her in a taxi. I tried to make the goodbye brief -- anything more would be too hard and I was already feeling so lonely and teary-eyed. I watched her taxi pull away and then since there was a break in the rain I headed back up Passeig de Gracia to Casa Mila for an evening tour. Because of the rain (which came on and off all evening) I couldn't go up on the roof but I toured the apartment and spent some time in the museum, at least until they kicked me out. From the windows in the museum I could see the famous chimneys and that was enough for me. Then it was back to the hotel with a short stop at Pans & Company (a Spanish sandwich chain) for a sandwich -- I'd tell you what I had but I really don't know since the menu was in Catalan but it seemed to be a cheese sandwich on an olive bread. This with the last of my Pringles bought at El Corte Ingles in Murcia made for a quiet last meal in Barcelona. Then I had to tackle the packing while my umbrella, jeans, shoes and socks dried by the radiator. And I realized I needed to get up at 6 and had no clock and no wake up call ... so I set the extra obnoxious siren alarm on my phone and fell asleep to the steady murmur of foot traffic on La Rambla. I've loved being here but I am also ready for home.

Nov 14 - flying home
Spent my last few euro on a chocolate croissant and coke light and bought some candy for T at the duty-free. In Paris I thought I'd gotten off easy and could walk to my gate but instead of walking on to a plane, we walked down some stairs and outside to a bus, which when fully loaded, promptly broke down. We all unloaded (many, many Americans now -- sort of nice to hear the familiar rhythms of my own language) and got on the bus behind us. After a short delay we settled in for the long flight home. Continental's food and amenities aren't as nice as Air France but I did get to watch the Fantastic Four about 3 times. Yippee. In Houston I went through the long lines at customs and headed for my flight to KC. Home at last!

And now ...

it's hard to believe I was ever there. Going through my pictures and journals makes it seems more real but it's hard for me to even say "I was in Spain" with a straight face. When I talk about it I know I wander off in to the land of boring with my historical and cultural background-giving but every facet of the trip was a wonder to me and I don't know that anyone really understands -- except the birdie, who is still living it every day.

Having a passport with a stamp in it has given me wanderlust, even worse than before. I want to go somewhere else now.

Monday, November 28, 2005

November 12 - Barcelona

Got a good start this morning -- quick breakfast at the hotel and then a walk up La Rambla. We found Casa Batllo and found out that they offer tours so we went in. I cannot explain how wonderful this place is, every nook and cranny is fantastically beautiful. Only part of the house is open -- it's very large. Just touring the open parts took over 2 hours.

After that tour we took off to find the Sagrada Familia. This is a place I have only seen in books... my ex had a tape of Alan Parsons Project's album "Gaudi" and ever since (16 years?) I have wanted to see it, though I never really thought I would. We went through a small plaza in front of the Temple and watched a man and his baby daughter feeding the birds, including some beautiful green Monk Parakeets. They would fly down and pick up the chunks of bread and take them back up in to the trees to eat them, holding them in one little claw while they balanced carefully on the other.

We went to get in line for the tour and I got my first glimpse. Beyond the scaffolding and the cranes the place is mind boggling. There are simply no words to describe the vision that Gaudi was reaching for and that he managed to translate so much of it to this building is, what? incredible? awesome? fantastic? all words too weak for the reality of the place. I spent a lot of time just studying each of the two finished facades and trying not to get teary-eyed. We rode the lifts to the towers and climbed up a little narrow stairwell to a bridge between 2 towers for a terrific view of Barcelona and the Mediterranean. Climbing back down scared the crap out of me and the birdie and by the time we got to the bottom we had jelly legs so bad we had to regroup. We visited the museum and all of it's plaster models, so carefully rebuilt after they were smashed to powder in the Spanish Civil War. Also paid our respects to the man himself, peering through a little glass window down into the crypt where Antonio Gaudi is buried.

Barcelona is such a beautiful city-- even if you took the Gaudi architecture away it's still wonderful. Each building seems to be more beautiful than the last. After the Sagrada Familia tour we walked back to Passeig de Gracia to a restaurant for tapas -- a tortilla, vegetables with goat cheese, manchego cheese, stuffed olives (which make my mouth water when I remember them) and a Chocolate Volcano which was as yummy as it sounds. Then a little shopping since Barcelona was still going full force at 9 pm on Saturday night. We spent some time in Sfera where I lusted after the bohemian winter skirts and wished I had some cool boots to wear with them. I love shopping here though I never buy anything because I am just too conservative and self-conscious. But if I were to be suddenly transported on to the show "What Not to Wear" and was the lucky recipient of a wardrobe makeover, I'd have to have some of these things. I've had the urge lately to be a better dresser but I lack the funds and the taste to do much better than I'm doing now. I have made a vow to never buy another denim dress though and unless I see a jumper as cute as the one Meg Ryan wore in "You've Got Mail", I'm not buying any of those, either.

God, I love Barcelona!

a break from the Spain trip

Happy belated Thanksgiving. At least I hope it was.

Mine was pretty OK. We had a long trip to see T's sister and during the drive I had a lot of time to think about stuff. Someone I know has been feeling very low and bad and not only did I not help, I didn't even know. Then there were days when I felt low and bad too -- but it passed. And I wanted to tell that person that we all feel this way sometimes. There are days when we all sit outside the circle, feeling fat, feeling old, feeling like we don't fit in. We all feel like the square peg in a whole world of round holes... too dumb for some company and too smart for others. We all crack jokes and hope someone will laugh and cringe when they don't. We all do what we can to feel secure in a world that's made to hurt us. We all long to be home and hope like hell that it feels right when we get there.

It's easy to start thinking that it must be better elsewhere: some other state, some other job, some other continent, some other plane of existence. But I personally can't keep looking ahead for what will make me happy. I know I need to find it here, today.

The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance, the wise grows it under his feet. -James Oppenheim

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

November 11 - last day in Murcia


Spent a really nice afternoon & evening with the birdie. We tried to have paella but it was too late. Instead we had pastry filled with chicken & seafood and a long talk about the nature of heaven.

After lunch we went to the casino which was small but beautiful inside -- like everything else in Spain, under renovation. We missed the box on the outside of the door for the ballroom and couldn't figure out how to get the lights on but a French tourgroup came in and they put a euro in the slot and the ballroom blazed to life and these older French ladies were waltzing away to the music. There was a collective "awww" when the lights and music went off again. And finally -- on my last full day here -- I walked back out on the Traparia and found that the doors to the cathedral were open! So I spent a happy hour or so looking at each chapel. Beautiful art, inspirational setting, a few dead guys. I was deliriously happy to have finally seen the cathedral, and just in time.

After the cathedral I dogged A while she power shopped and then at 9 we headed back to the apartment to make "burritos". After a shower at midnight and an hour for my hair to "dry" while reading the Magician's Nephew, I finally went to sleep.

later that day ...
Spent the morning repacking and packing again all my stuff and what A wants me to take back to the States for her. And buying a few last minute items -- a blue and gold mug for T, ingredients to make a Murciano tapa, snacks for me, etc. etc. I called him a little while ago and we had a great talk... I'll be glad to see him soon.

We left for the bus station as soon as A got out of class but by the time we'd drug all our things to the bus station we had missed the earlier bus to to Alicante and there was only a 5 pm and the flight was at 7:30 -- couldn't determine if that would leave us with enough time so A called Juan and begged him to please help us out ... I gave him 20 euro for the gas, I felt so awful about having to bother him for a ride. In the bus station was the one time I allowed myself to have an "ugly American" moment -- sometimes the language barrier is so frustrating and a little humiliating too. Makes me realize how it must be for the Hispanics in the U.S. Anyway, we made the plane in plenty of time, connected in Madrid and got here to Barcelona. Hotel is small and old but exceedingly clean and has a tiny balcony that overlooks Las Ramblas -- at night it looks like something out of a picture book. Tomorrow we head for the Sagrada Familia...

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

November 10 - Murcia

Spent the rest of yesterday just bumming around. I looked in several stores for English language books and right before siesta I located a shelf of classics and a few odds and ends in a University bookstore. But of course the store was closing so I had to wait 2 hours and head back. Once again -- my Spanish sucks. It's a major deal just to ask where the English language books are and then understand the answer. He tried to sell me a phrase book (no buddy, believe it or not, I have one!) and then finally I caught the word "novelas", ah, si, si! I bought the birdie "The House of Sand and Fog" and "Tales of the Unexpected" by Roald Dahl. That, along with "Syrup" should hold her until Christmas.

Last night, I went to El Corte Ingles to tackle the grocery shopping for the chicken dinner and A and Juan met me there. Got everything we needed and headed back the throw the chicken in -- ugh. Started to clean it and found it came complete with the head still on it and the guts still in it. Good thing I grew up on a farm. I hacked that head off like a good country wife and got the chicken seasoned and in the oven. At 9 we were supposed to eat but the chicken was nowhere near ready so I panicked and ran back to El Corte Ingles and bought two precooked chickens -- upon my return found that I only needed about 20 more minutes for the chicken I made... so I guess the girls will have plenty of chicken for a while. Everything was ready at 10 but the landlady showed up to collect rent so at 10:30 we finally sat down to fresh roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls and fresh pears for dessert. And possibly the most pathetic chicken gravy ever made. But hey, it was gravy and A and Kristen thought it was cool. I did it! I cooked! Biggest relief EVER.

This morning I went to the outdoor market... I wanted grapes but decided not to go through the hassle of asking for them (is the word uvas? I think so, I don't know). So just walked the length of the market and enjoyed all the sights and smells. Unlike El Rastro, this is a farmer's market too. You can buy everything from underwear to pickled onions in this place. Churros con chocolate, fruit, jeans, vegetables, shoes, scarves, fish, jamon, fabric, many varieties of tomatoes, striped eggplant, pajamas, olives, tiny pickles, figs. Looking at all the food is like eating it -it's really what people mean when they say "a feast for the eyes". Also the nose and the ears. So wonderful! I walked and walked in a slow drizzle, drinking Coke Light and snacking on these little croissants with a nutella filling. Loved it.

After the mercadona I went to the Salzillo museum and was adopted by a museum guide named Antonio. One guard kept following me around and trying to talk to me. Funny thing -- here you say you don't speak Spanish and they think you must be kidding or that you just don't speak it well. I tried to talk to that guy and I guess I answered his question wrong ... all I caught was Aleman (German) so I don't know. But not long after my failed attempt to communicate, Antonio showed up and gave me a personal tour -- telling me all about Semana Santa and the Salzillo sculptures. He had taken English at a language school in Murcia so he spoke very well. And I enjoyed talking to him. Because they get so many Brits here and because they can't hear the difference between the Bristish and American accent he was surprised to hear I was American... don't imagine they see too many Americans in this part of Spain. If you hear someone speaking English with an American accent your head snaps around and you immediately want to say "hey, me too!" Yesterday I was walking down A's street and hear a guy with a Jersey accent talking to his kids. It was a very odd moment for me. Even in Madrid I stood in the line for the Prado in front of a guy from Chicago and he was so excited to hear English because he had been in Madrid for 4 days and hadn't bumped in to any other Americans. Anyway, I digress. Back to Francisco Salzillo: on Good Friday they empty out the museum and penitents carry the statues (life size and decorated with accents of fresh fruit, flowers, palms, etc.) on the shoulders through the streets of Murcia. The statues are so detailed. Much like the Penitent Mary Magdalene I saw at the Prado. After the Salzillo museum I went to the Museo de Cuidad (City Museum) and that, along with El Centro de Bellas Artes makes a neat little trifecta of Murciano museums. One thing I have noticed is that Spanish art vs. the rest of European art was/is intensely focused on the religious. This is still a VERY devout country. The first question Antonio asked me was not where I was from or even my name, but was I Catholic?

I'm hoping I don't get the cold these girls are kicking around. I don't know if it's the weather (it's actually raining a little here, which is never does) or a virus but I feel a little scratchy and stuffy. After A has her cup of tea to warm up we are headed to the Casino, which is actually not a casino but a reading room/gentlemen's meeting place. But it's supposed to be beautiful and so far I haven't gotten past the stained glass doors because I've been waiting for her to go with me.

Nov 8/9 -- Murcia

Almost 1/2 way over. Today we have to wash a few things and make a trip to the mercado, also maybe a cyber cafe so I can e-mail T. I talked to him a little bit yesterday while he was still at work and so did A but when we called he thought it was K calling and didn't know it was us until she put me on the phone.

Things I've noticed you can't get here:
  1. instant anything that looks appetizing.... their canned foods and packaged stuff looks terrible. No instant rice or noodles, no Spaghetti-Os or mac & cheese. What's a college kid to live on? I noticed that they do have small packages of flour & corn tortillas here but they're sort of a novelty. It's definitely a healthier way of eating -- just cooking with whole foods.
  2. Velveeta. Wish I could. Daniela (one of the Italians) love mac and cheese and I could make her some that would knock her socks off if I could find it. I'm going to have T pull together some things for a care package including blueberry pancake mix, Kraft macaroni & cheese and some other things.
  3. cottage cheese
  4. cheese-its
  5. pop tarts
  6. Hershey's anything. This is an M&M/Mars country. Also Toblerone, Nestle and Cadbury. All good -- but A wants Hershey's.
  7. fresh milk or eggs -- everything's in a box and the eggs are sold in 6 packs and don't need to be refrigerated. What do you have to do to an egg to not have to refrigerate it?

Another thing I'm going to do today is go in to full mom mode and take some pictures of the things that are broken around here. I intend to write ISEP a letter when A gets home. There's no heat or air (the landlady has taped over the controls and claims it's broken), they can't get to the laundry line because the window's locked and she won't get a key made, the dishwasher's broken and taped up with about a roll of package tape. There's 2 bulbs in A's room, about 10W each. She has a desk lamp that only works if you hold the cord and your tongue just right. It wouldn't bug me so much but each of the girls pay 210 euro. Times 5 and that's almost $1200 per month plus the electric. I think they're getting ripped off.

Nov 9

Yesterday was sort of another non-event day. A and I went shopping at Zara for Juan Antonio's birthday. I accidentally dropped my jacket and it took forever to find it. When Spanish women shop they mob the displays and throw everything around. Nothing stays folded or where it belongs and there's store employees running all over just doing nothing but picking up and refolding. I told A it looks like Penny's during the After Thanksgiving sale at home. I figured my jacket was buried at the bottom of a pile or hung on a hanger somewhere but one of the employees had picked it up.

After lunch (tuna & egg empenada and a mushroom and artichoke mini pizza) we walked down the Traperia and over to Sephora, then hung around the cathedral Plaza a little while. Still trying to figure out when I need to be there so I can go inside the cathedral. I did make it to the internet cafe and sent T a really long e-mail. I miss him and think about him and how he'd like it here. While Juan and A were out I sat down to read "Syrup" by Maxx Barry and read the whole book... oops. I told her I'd leave my Chronicles of Narnia but now I'm out of reading material so I might have to take it back.

Friday, November 18, 2005

Nov 7 - Murcia

Spent about 3-4 hours just walking around -- saw the main cathedral here, many plazas and my first introduction to El Corte Ingles which is like Dillard's, Target and a grocery store all rolled in to one.

Spent the afternoon shopping for a casual shirt, also went to Zara but didn't find anything there that looked big enough (Evidently, "French Women Don't Get Fat" and Spanish women don't either.) Zara for those of you not familiar with this stylish Spanish chain is a clothing store that is part of a large group that includes other stores I found up and down Murcia's Gran Via: Stradivarius, Oysho and Berksha. Zara has a lot of cute stuff and priced over a wide range from shirts, skirts and pants (on sale) under 20 euro all the way up to whatever. I had never heard of them but apparently they do have stores on the coasts here and in places like Houston, Orlando and Vegas. A's Canadian roommate says they have them in Canada too and they're decidedly more expensive there than in Spain, which is where they're based. (Shame. They had the best bohemian skirts and I already regret not buying one.)

Took A to a quick lunch between classes. She had soup, which looked great. I had --- yeah, stupid--- a cheeseburger. If you are from a meat-raising part of the United States like, say, myself, never, ever, ever order a hamburger somewhere else. It resembled a hamburger like the Epcot Center resembles Europe. I don't know what possesses me to order this stuff, except it takes me so long to semi-decipher a menu without pictures that sometimes I just panic. A's chicken soup had the heart in it and after she identified all the parts I dared her to eat it and she did. Pretty good for a girl who couldn't stand to hear the word "blood" for about three years without getting grossed out completely.

After spending the afternoon wandering around and being, admittedly a little lonely and sort of bored I came back to meet A and found out her roommates were cooking dinner for everyone (a rarity that they all sit down to a meal together, so I feel special!). They started with appetizers -- chicken nuggets, empanadas with tuna and tomato, cheese, sausage and crusty bread spread with a jamon (ham) cream cheese. Then Natalie presented us with Belgian sausages and stoemp (which is mashed potatoes and other stuff -- I googled it and saw that is can contain root veggies, spinach, cabbage, leeks, etc.) We finished up with a birthday cake for A and also enjoyed some really cheap wine (which wasn't that bad, actually) and San Miguel.

I fell asleep trying to think of some basic meal I could cook for everyone without screwing it up and with the ingredients I could find here -- and the cooking tools we have available in the apartment. They don't have much beyond basic pots and pans and there's no micro (not a disaster, I've done without one before, it CAN be done). I decided on roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes with gravy and sort of southern-style green beans with onion and bacon. Simple and something I shouldn't be able to screw up. I really want to do something nice for them as I am totally invading their space, sharing their bathroom, etc.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Madrid




before the camera broke...


Madrid, November 6/Murcia, morning of the 7th


Got up around 9, showered, dressed and headed for El Rastro, a monster flea market that goes on from 10 am - 2 pm on Sundays. We bought a bunch of scarves -- OK like, 12 -- but they were only 2 euro each and so pretty, they totally make you look like a European (everyone's doing it!) haha! Anyway, the crowd was so heavy that we got tired pretty quickly and decided to get out and head to Centro des Artes Reina Sofia to see Guernica. We got in with just 45 minutes (but free on Sundays, yay!) until closing time and hustled up to the Picasso gallery. I don't think A was very impressed but it was definitely a moment for me... Also saw a few Miro and Dali paintings. Tried to make the bookstore but it closed before we could get there. Very sad.

Walked across the street to Atocha station and since I'd heard it was worth a look we went inside. There's a ton of construction around it -- I don't know if that had anything to do with the bombing there last year or just more Madrid construction -- it's everywhere. Very pretty, has a tropical rainforest in the middle of it. Like our own Union Station it was adandoned and nearly demolished but now it's a Renfe station. It's hard to believe looking at the old pictures and news reports that this place was the scene of so much chaos and death. It's absolutely serene now -- the misters for the rainforest create a soft foggy effect as the sun streams through the windows. It's gorgeous. If Juan had not come to Madrid for A's birthday we would be taking the train from here to Murcia, but Juan is driving us back.

Walked some more and stopped for lunch at VIPS -- just a diner type of place - club sandwich, how very cop-out of me. After VIPS, we went back to the hotel and A proceeded to open up and model every scarf we'd bought. Juan picked us up for the drive back to Murcia which was so great of him-- and until the sun set I was able to watch the scenery roll by. So much desert! I didn't know... very once in a while you'd see a town with an old church or some castle ruins at the top of a hill. Houses are just what you'd imagine, whitewashed with red tile roofs, groves of olive trees everywhere. Juan was listening to Queen -- unexpected but fun, I love Queen. I could never have imagined myself in a million years flying down a Spanish freeway in the back of a Mercedes SUV listening to -- Queen. Life does take it's strange turns.

Came back to Murcia and met all Angie's roommates (there are 4, two Italians, a Belgian and a Canadian) - Natalie, the Belgian, was sick and coughed all night, poor thing. They have these metal blinds on the exteriors of all the homes that roll down and totally block out the sun. Great for sleeping, terrible for my body clock. It feels like I never want to wake up. Right now I'm sitting up in bed looking out over the courtyard and watching a woman hang her clothes on the line outside her window (the apartments have a small washer, no dryer)

... The whole time I've been writing there's been a pack of people outside on a balcony drinking, smoking, eating and talking. Don't these people work??

I can hear Natalie speaking French to someone -- her parents? They and her boyfriend have been visiting and are heading back to Belgium today.

OK, it's 11:30 am, I need to get up and get going! A pointed out El Corte Ingles to me, guess I'll go check that out. I'm off!

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

November 5 - Madrid


A's 21st birthday! Feliz Cumpleanos little birdie! She arrived here before 3 pm yesterday and after a tearful, noisy American reunion in the lobby we came upstairs for showers and I had a brief (too brief) siesta. Then we took off walking to wherever and ended up in Plaza Puerta del Sol. We window shopped and walked, then stopped for a bite -- not technically dinner since it was only 6pm. I had a Spanish omelet with some kind of really good sausage and A had a bocadillo (sandwich) & cerveza. Then we walked back up Gran Via and basically ran out of steam by 8 pm. We finished up the night with Hershey's cookies & mint bars and all those magazines I carted here (glad to get rid of those!)

So this morning we are off to the Prado after breakfast.

later that day ....
We tried to get breakfast at a cafeteria but the service was so slow (even by Spanish standards) we ended up leaving and walking down to Paseo del Prado and through a pretty little park. Across from the Prado we found a Starbuck's and had a non-traditional breakfast of tea & sandwiches. I spent a ton of time in the Prado. I was so amazed to see paintings I had only seen in books. Walking around every corner I had to keep from gasping out loud. (Yes, I am an art dork.) The portrait of Mary Tudor is here (see above, poor thing, she was not pretty) and I hear the Hans Holbein Henry the VIII is at Thyssen-Bornemizsa across the street. How did father and daughter, 2 English monarchs, end up in Spain I wonder (although Mary was 1/2 Spanish and married to a Spaniard as well). Saw an amazing wood sculpture of the penitent Mary Magdalene which completely blew me away. I wish I could find an image of her, she was amazing. Ummm, so much more: Rubens, Titian, Valasquez and Goya of course, El Greco. Oh! and the Lobster's favorite, Bosch. When you see Dali's work it's clear where he got his inspiration. Loved the Goyas -- even the black period. Very tragic stuff.

A abandoned me to my artistic love affair and so later we met up at the hotel again and I met Juan Antonio, her Spanish boyfriend... he led the way to Plaza Mayor. I got some great pictures and then my camera croaked. Canon is going to get a very nasty letter from me about the infamous E18 error.

After walking around Plaza Mayor we walked to Palacio Real and then back to Plaza Mayor hoping to catch an early dinner at Botin (the world's oldest restuarant and where Ernest Hemingway used to hang out) but 15 minutes after they opened they were on an hour wait so we went to another restaurant nearby, Las Cuevas de Luis Candelas. Juan ordered tapas and we had a pitcher of Sangria -- we had morcilla (black pudding-- I can't believe I ate that but it was actually good), potatoes with ailioli, bread, calimari, Spanish omelet. All very yummy! A got flan with a candle in it for her birthday. Ended up hanging in the hotel while A and Juan went to a disco -- I was watching MTV with German subtitles -- it was all I could find in English except for Sky News.

A wonderful day except for the broken camera. grrrrrr.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

excerpts from Nov 3/4

Warning: all excerpts edited for content and embellished with afterthoughts.

11/3: random airport thoughts
  1. white guys who eat at Panda Express with chopsticks -- little bit pretentious? Even the Asians are eating with forks.
  2. Is pink camo so you can hide from Barbie?
  3. Spent some quality time in L'Occitane and bought A her 21st birthday gift, Honey Harvest Body Balm.
  4. backpack weighs 400# and is actually gaining the longer I carry it.

Have a terrible nervous stomach and am sick -- good I have a 5 hour wait. (In retrospect, not a great way to start the trip but felt like I had at least gotten that out of the way and in fact I wasn't sick the whole time I was in Spain, even with ice in my drinks, etc.)

11/4:

Sitting at the H10 Villa de la Reina waiting for my room to be ready. Stomach settled down in time for the flight which was uneventful except for one glitch in KC. The blonde at the Continental desk kept telling me I'd have to pick up my bag in Paris but with only 55 minutes layover I didn't think I'd have time to make my Madrid flight. I kept trying to question her and she was in a huff so T turned to me and said "Just talk to someone in Houston", referring to rebooking my Paris-Madrid leg so I'd have time to pick up my bag and recheck it. I guess she got offended because about 10 minutes later she stopped us in the terminal and said she'd checked my bag all the way though to Madrid "since we acted like she didn't know what she was doing". I didn't think she knew what she was doing but I never said so. We tried very hard to be polite and explain that we were concerned about the short layover -- she was having nothing to do with us. I figured my suitcase would end up in Venezuela but it was actually first off in Madrid.

Once I got to Madrid I thought I'd have to go through customs but there was nothing. I was even stopped by a police officer who just waved me on. What is up with this room? Trying to be patient. Drinking old Sprite and eating trail mix, want a shower and a nap and want to call A. It's 2 pm Spain time and 8 am my time ... 3 hours of sleep in the last 26 hours. Tengo mejor jet lag.

I'm back .....

I'll try to put up some excerpts from my journal over the next few days. Still waiting for the pictures, too, but more about that later.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

hasta noviembre 15


At some point, all the planning and worry just dissolves into an attitude of "whatever happens, happens". I'm just going to be kicking back and letting everything roll.

I hope this is wonderful. I'm still scared to death.

Will post soon, friends.

Rose

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Halloween Haters Anonymous?

I used to love Halloween. For the record I now only like it if I have an excuse to dress up and a super cool costume to wear. Yesterday I had neither.

I returned home at 5:30 to see the pack of scary teens from the block behind us walking away from my house in full regalia. I was happy to have not been home for that particular trick-or-treat. So happy that I waited at home with a minimum of lights on until T came back and then... we left.

Bonus: halloween candy, no trick-or-treaters.

Next year, I think I'd like to go back to our previous years' tradition of being out of state when Halloween comes.

Of course, that won't stop me from buying candy ...

In other news, 50 hours until I board my Air France flight to Madrid...

Monday, October 31, 2005

3 days and counting

Just three days to go until I leave for Spain. Almost packed and still debating over what books to take…

I’m freaking out a little.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

confessional part 2




  1. While I know what I must do to help myself, I don't really know how to do it. I have a lot of growing up to do.
  2. I have to choose just 2 books for Spain. There are 8 or 10 on my table and one in my car. I alos have like, 5 magazines I haven't read.
  3. I never sleep any more. I doze and wake and think about my life until the waking and dreaming wind together and things stop making sense.
  4. I dreamed he turned to me and said, "Why are you always so far away?" It scared me so much I woke up.
  5. I have 4 1/2 feet of magazines I need to go through at work. I measured them.
  6. I bought a phrase book and now I know how to cuss in Spanish.
  7. I'm looking forward to 16 hours on a plane but I'm sure I'll change my mind a couple of hours in to the flight.
  8. I want to lie in Spain and tell people I'm Canadian so they won't ask me about Iraq or Bush or the White Sox.
  9. Sometimes I think about going home and getting drunk -- I never do. But I sure think about it.
  10. My 11th wedding anniversary is Saturday. I never believed that anyone would love me for that long.
  11. "Love, Actually" makes me cry. Every time. It's the scenes in the airport that get me most. It's that concept of how we, at our most basic, are really loving beings. I also like that there are so many stories interwoven into the movie and not all of them have happy endings. Love isn't always requited. Love isn't always joyful. Sometimes it's damn hard. But it actually is all around.

"Let's go get the shit kicked out of us by love!" - Sam from "Love, Actually"

Friday, October 21, 2005

confessional

  • less than 2 weeks until Spain. I have not done one thing to brush up on my Spanish. I have not packed anything, I have not bought my phrasebook.
  • I like Old Navy just below waist flare jeans, they make me feel cool, which I am not.
  • my nails are getting really long again. they feel funny.
  • no matter how much hairspray I put on my hair it still looks like I've been electrified by the time 4 p.m. rolls around.
  • I absolutely am in no way ready to deal with the holidays.
  • I am absolutely in no way ready to deal with my life.
  • No matter how cool a trip I am about to take, I would always rather go somewhere else. Last year I was wishing for London on the way to Hawaii. This year I am wishing for any country that speaks English.
  • I'm afraid to go to Spain. There!! OK?? I'm afraid.
  • I'm also afraid of life after Spain.
  • Fear is not my friend. I know this but the head and heart won't connect. In fact I know many things these days -- more than I used to. But the knowledge does not translate to the sluggish regions of my patchwork heart.

Now that I've confessed it's time for penance....

Time Magazine lists these books as the best English language novels from 1923 to present. As a book lover, I must have bad taste in books because most of these look like that list you got in high school English where you're thinking, "My lord there isn't one single book on here I'd actually want to read." Then again I have read a few (see the red ones) and read some other novels by same authors -- Like I've read just about everything ELSE Margaret Atwood has written...

A list like this just makes me feel guilty about the stuff I do read -- but that's why I'm no longer a student. After 19 1/2 years of education, I can now read what I want.

Funny little side note about Kurt Vonnegut. When I was a junior in high school I got one of those aforementioned lists and my teacher said we could only read Vonnegut with permission from our parents. I promptly went home and asked my mother if I could read Vonnegut. My mother, who is not a reader of much more than "Organic Gardening" said she trusted me to read whatever I wanted. I proceeded to read about a half dozen Vonnegut books, all of which I liked until the last (Galapagos, for those keeping score). Having satisfied my rebel instincts, I once again retired to tamer fare, such as Watership Down and Nicholas Nickleby.

The Adventures of Augie MarchSaul Bellow
All the King's MenRobert Penn Warren
American PastoralPhilip Roth
An American TragedyTheodore Dreiser
Animal FarmGeorge Orwell
Appointment in SamarraJohn O'Hara
Are You There God? It's Me, MargaretJudy Blume
The AssistantBernard Malamud
At Swim-Two-BirdsFlann O'Brien
AtonementIan McEwan
BelovedToni Morrison
The Berlin StoriesChristopher Isherwood
The Big SleepRaymond Chandler
The Blind AssassinMargaret Atwood
Blood MeridianCormac McCarthy
Brideshead RevisitedEvelyn Waugh
The Bridge of San Luis ReyThornton Wilder
Call It SleepHenry Roth
Catch-22Joseph Heller
The Catcher in the RyeJ.D. Salinger
A Clockwork OrangeAnthony Burgess
The Confessions of Nat TurnerWilliam Styron
The CorrectionsJonathan Franzen
The Crying of Lot 49Thomas Pynchon
A Dance to the Music of TimeAnthony Powell
The Day of the LocustNathanael West
Death Comes for the ArchbishopWilla Cather
A Death in the FamilyJames Agee
The Death of the HeartElizabeth Bowen
DeliveranceJames Dickey
Dog SoldiersRobert Stone
FalconerJohn Cheever
French Lieutenant's WomanJohn Fowles
The Golden NotebookDoris Lessing
Go Tell it on the MountainJames Baldwin
Gone With the WindMargaret Mitchell
The Grapes of WrathJohn Steinbeck
Gravity's RainbowThomas Pynchon
The Great GatsbyF. Scott Fitzgerald
A Handful of DustEvelyn Waugh
The Heart Is A Lonely HunterCarson McCullers
The Heart of the MatterGraham Greene
HerzogSaul Bellow
HousekeepingMarilynne Robinson
A House for Mr. BiswasV.S. Naipaul
I, ClaudiusRobert Graves
Infinite JestDavid Foster Wallace
Invisible ManRalph Ellison
Light in AugustWilliam Faulkner
The Lion, The Witch and the WardrobeC.S. Lewis
LolitaVladimir Nabokov
Lord of the FliesWilliam Golding
The Lord of the RingsJ.R.R. Tolkien
LovingHenry Green
Lucky JimKingsley Amis
The Man Who Loved ChildrenChristina Stead
Midnight's ChildrenSalman Rushdie
MoneyMartin Amis
The MoviegoerWalker Percy
Mrs. DallowayVirginia Woolf
Naked LunchWilliam Burroughs
Native SonRichard Wright
NeuromancerWilliam Gibson
Never Let Me GoKazuo Ishiguro
1984George Orwell
On the RoadJack Kerouac
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's NestKen Kesey
The Painted BirdJerzy Kosinski
Pale FireVladimir Nabokov
A Passage to IndiaE.M. Forster
Play It As It LaysJoan Didion
Portnoy's ComplaintPhilip Roth
PossessionA.S. Byatt
The Power and the GloryGraham Greene
The Prime of Miss Jean BrodieMuriel Spark
Rabbit, RunJohn Updike
RagtimeE.L. Doctorow
The RecognitionsWilliam Gaddis
Red HarvestDashiell Hammett
Revolutionary RoadRichard Yates
The Sheltering SkyPaul Bowles
Slaughterhouse-FiveKurt Vonnegut
Snow CrashNeal Stephenson
The Sot-Weed FactorJohn Barth
The Sound and the FuryWilliam Faulkner
The SportswriterRichard Ford
The Spy Who Came in From the ColdJohn le Carre
The Sun Also RisesErnest Hemingway
Their Eyes Were Watching GodZora Neale Hurston
Things Fall ApartChinua Achebe
To Kill a MockingbirdHarper Lee
To the LighthouseVirginia Woolf
Tropic of CancerHenry Miller
UbikPhilip K. Dick
Under the NetIris Murdoch
Under the VolcanoMalcolm Lowry
WatchmenAlan Moore & Dave Gibbons
White NoiseDon DeLillo
White TeethZadie Smith
Wide Sargasso SeaJean Rhys

Thursday, October 20, 2005

blog search

I've updated my blog list a little but to be honest, I'd love some suggestions of great blogs anyone has read. I like my blogs but many don't update very regularly and (unless the author is a personal friend) if it isn't updated for 2 months, it gets the boot.

So anyone read or written any good blogs lately? It might be a long winter.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Home


Tuesday I went to Lake Geneva, WI to visit a company I have been working with for a couple of years. Although the trip made for a long day (about 15 hours door-to-door) the driving portion was amazingly pretty: crisp blue skies, bright sun, red, orange and yellow leaves, pumpkins, mums, old rustic barns. I swear it looks like the whole state of Wisconsin hired a professional landscaper. It was just that pretty.

Ruminating during my marathon trip ... I thought about home. Not my home specifically but rather the concept of home. My perception of that company and the people in it changed when I saw their beautiful hometown, the pride they had in their work, the success they've had, the machinery, the buildings and so on. And that got to thinking about one of my favorite moments in any relationship -- when you see someone on their home turf for the first time.

Going to someone's house or hometown or even their office for the first time is an profound moment of discovery to me. You see immediately what's important: is it family, play, wealth, appearance, comfort, pets, spirituality? Are they neat or messy? Some people like to peek in medicine cabinets but personally I like to see what's in the fridge (although I promise I don't snoop). And when you look around town, what was the high school like? Where did they hang out?

And another telling thing to me -- how far from where they grew up are they now? I'm equally fascinated by people who are halfway across the country from home or those who are just a few blocks from home. I have a friend who recently found himself living across the street from where his parents lived when he was a toddler. It's sort of a fluke but not much ... his high school is down the street, so are his parents, a sister and brother. On the other hand I have a friend who moved out of her home state immediately after college and now lives 2 time zones away.

I also love houses -- looking at them, touring them. An afternoon spent looking at houses, even if I'm not in the market, is still fun. I almost got my real estate license so I could do it all day long. Furnished is better than unfurnished -- it's definitely the "stuff" that gives a place it's character.

So anyway, while I've always loved to travel and have these romanticized ideas of living somewhere new and different someday, I'm still just across town from where I was born. And honestly, after being away for just a day I was glad to come home again. (Traffic on I-94 will do that to anyone I think.) Home is more than a place to me, it's a comfort level, it's the concept and the dream of safety and rest.

Maybe that's why The Hobbit was one of my favorite books ... like Bilbo I always look for an adventure but in the end I want to go home to my little hobbit hole and put my feet up with a book and a nice cup of hot chocolate.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

mental photo album

A 50 degree day with 2 feet of melting snow at Silver Dollar City, the sun sparkling off every surface, cold wind on our faces as we screamed and laughed on the roller coaster. Fried potatoes, spiced cider, s'mores made with chocolate chip cookies. My bark owl and mushroom birds for the tree.

The day I first said "I love you" while you were sitting on the rock wall in the park and you sang back your answer.

Driving through the pineapple fields on a Monday morning to the North Shore and loving how happy you were to look and not drive.

40 gallons of water with a 5-gallon bucket and a cheap plastic funnel in a driving rainstorm-- and how bad you felt that you hadn't checked the water tank light inside the camper.

Dinner at that restaurant in the Smokies.

The day you took me to the jewelry store to buy me my ring after 5 years of marriage.

Scrubbing bathrooms and fixing broken plumbing to get the church ready for its first service. Me singing away to whatever CD I had with me and Glorifying God with a toilet brush!

The anxious days after 9/11 when you were stranded half a country away and I just wanted you to come home to me.

Lying in bed trying to coax a new kitten up for petting and the "foot game".

Driving to my mom's with a new puppy on my lap... warm puppy tummies and that funky puppy breath.

Huge platters of fried oysters, clams, scallops and fish at that little place in Plymouth, MA and the sunset on Cape Cod. Fish every day!

Loonies and Twonies in Nova Scotia and a long lazy drive to nowhere. And fish every day!

The day we brought the girls to see the house for the first time and the nights we spent thereafter painting and stripping wallpaper and requesting corny country songs while we worked late every night for the wedding.

**I suppose when I am old and gone a little soft these are the memories I will call up -- and our daughters will smile indulgently, our grandchildren will wonder and they will shake their heads and say "No grandma, I'm not Angie".**

Monday, October 10, 2005

reunionville

My 20th high school reunion went on without me this weekend.

High school for me was not a super-enjoyable experience: not quite as bad as getting your wisdom teeth removed and not quite as good as being on a long plane ride with a boring book. I did not love it.

However being the curious and nosy person that I am I always enjoy seeing how people have turned out and how they've aged and my, some of us have aged a little more than others, have we not? Of course some of them turned out to be a little more sumthin' sumthin' than others, too, which is OK.

I'm lucky, I have great genes, so I'm still getting carded from time to time -- flattering, amusing and incredibly myopic but bless them anyway, I say. And I have a cool job and a good education and am generally happy with myself. Others, well, time has not been kind, either in looks, finances or life. The girls seem to fare better than the guys -- thanks to the gift of good makeup and a night-time skin regimen.

My 9th grade locker mate e-mailed me the pictures she took. How strange to look at those faces after all this time and think about the things we went through and the cliques and dividing lines that existed. People that wouldn't have spoken or acknowledged one another's presence were evidently tipping back a few and having a great time at the reunion. I'm sort of sorry I missed it -- but there's always the 25th. Maybe that time I will be in the pictures and not just looking at them.

Monday, October 03, 2005

I love books


Ever since I was a little girl I have had a real love affair with the written word. One of my early memories is my father bringing me a Hallmark Snow White pop-up book -- which I still have. I've attempted to do some writing of my own (hence this blog and the title) -- but not in a serious way. Really I read fabulous books and then give up hope of ever being that good, so I still haven't started my great American novel. Although from the looks of my friends' book projects, maybe that's a good thing...

So my list of books "on deck" consists of the following:

3 books I bought at the Cool Springs Barnes & Noble in Nashville when I was killing an afternoon waiting for the guys to finish playing golf with customers: Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, Mirror, Mirror, Oryx & Crake

Also on my list: Rebecca, The Chronicles of Narnia, the two on my All Consuming list and The Man of Her Dreams, the Woman of His (which I am reading right now).

I also have a long list of other books I'd like to read, including Freakonomics, The City of Falling Angels, Assasination Vacation, Persopolis, and Syrup.

Beautiful books. Cheaper than a vacation and great companionship for long plane rides, waiting rooms, hotel rooms in strange cities and lazy Saturday afternoons (if such a thing still exists).

Thursday, September 29, 2005

random thoughts

weekly therapy appointment: I'm still OK

digital camera situation: Still not OK. Must get out and start taking pictures, learn to download them, etc. Very important as I do not want to come home from Spain having taken crappy pictures.

work: lots. WTH am I doing blogging?

intelligent design: I think it's arrogant for scientists to assert they know it all -- but they don't. Only a few hundred years ago the world was held up by Atlas and two turtles... less than 150 years ago doctors thought they should treat certain illnesses with mercury. But science is always right until proven wrong. Still, they call it the THEORY of Evolution for a reason, don't they?

Spanish for trip: hopeless

the Spain trip: seems like a pipe dream, not part of my operating reality right now.

chocolate: cures many ills.

All Consuming: doesn't list Daphne du Marier's novel "Rebecca", very disappointing. How am I supposed to update my list?

blogoreadership: down significantly. Probably due to my inability to write anything coherent or entertaining. Shame.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Still a man's world

I have a great job. I work with some wonderful people, people who are a lot like family. It's unique, believe me. I haven't had this much fun since I left my first ad agency position.

The one thing is that I work in an industry that is almost entirely dominated by men. Most of the time it isn't a big deal. Oh you get the guys who treat you like a "girl" or don't make eye contact-- they only look at you a foot lower. Sometimes the management wonders why a customer likes you so much. And then sometimes, you catch a guy who's had one too many and makes a comment like the one I heard today. In what can only be described as a fit of jealousy a male vendor told a new female vendor that she only got her piece of business because she was a woman and the buyer gave her special treatment because he likes women.

Just when you thought the world had actually turned and we were out of the 19th century, some jackass comes along and tries to put women back in the fainting couch.

Well let me gather up my petticoats a moment and say what I think. I think guys like CH are intimidated by smart people, men or women. I think he takes everything down to the lowest common denominator, drinks too much and takes hurtful cheap shots. I think his way of business is going the way of the dinosaur. Correction -- it's already gone.

I think I'm glad that guys like him aren't part of my "family" and my regular professional life. I'm glad the guys I do work with treat me with respect and sometimes even a bent and silly affection that makes me feel like I have big brothers when we're out on the road. I think CH will never know the greatness of a job like this as long as he dismisses 50% of the world's population as too shallow and too talentless to get business on their merits and not their anatomy.

It may still be a man's world but the time will come when even us girls get some of the credit and our fair share. I'll still be here -- I wonder if he will. My guess is no.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Couch Trip

I guess it's inevitable that once the immediate crisis that brought you to therapy in the first place has passed, the guy will ask about your childhood.

I don't think about it very much. As an adult I look back and I honestly can't believe that no adults were concerned about this little kid rattling aaround in her own head for so many years. Today when a set of parents split and the kid starts to implode, most people say "hey maybe that kid needs to talk to someone". No one really said that when I was imploding. My teachers did get a wake up call in 4th grade ... I threw a book at another student who was tormenting the crap out of me (along with all her little heathen friends). That earned me two sessions with the school counselor -- before she had an anurysm and had to leave.

That was all the counseling I got -- until I was threatened with losing my job in college if I didn't pull myself together. I did 9 months with a PhD candidate at the University center and kept the job... and then graduated and moved away. Hey I was crazy in love by then -- who needed therapy?

So, other than a 6-week stint of useless marriage counseling and 2 individual attempts to say "hey something's wrong" I never went again. Until now.

And what am I getting out of it now? The satisfaction of being told that however crazy I may FEEL, I'm actually doing pretty good. I'm doing good.

Hey, what do you know? I am. We have a long way to go until things are "right" again but I'm starting to feel like it's not just selfishness that is driving me to say "I need" and "I want". It's OK to take my time, to decide for myself what is right for me. It's OK for me to ask for, and receive, respect.

As long as I've got God in the mix, so Someone doesn't let me fall off the curb.

I wish I could get in to more detail about what's going on but T and I are trying to keep most of this on the down low. Someday I hope all this becomes something we survived to bring encouragement to someone else.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

kid stuff


Just to prove that I do still have my sense of humor, I thought it might be fun to share a little kid wisdom with you. This is courtesy of my friends' two wonderful kids who shared their very deep thoughts with me on a lovely late summer evening...

he: (describing the pecking order of the universe) "It goes monkeys, then us, then aliens." "why aliens?" "'cause their brains are bigger." (he demonstrates the head circumference with his arms held aloft like a power speaker in a stadium full of Promise Keepers). "and besides they have lasers." "we have lasers" Yeah, but they have laser guns." oh.

I have discovered that some conversations with younger kids are so spontaneous, they are like, 5 minutes in to it in their heads before they even say anything. Therefore, THEY know what they're talking about but we have no idea. Refer to above.

she: "Daaaaaaaad, let me tell you. There's early, which is on time. There's on time, which is late. And there's late which is unacceptable." (Her father remains unmoved -- and chronically late).

I was also told, that if I were to be sold, the asking price should be a kajillion quadrillion dollars.

All of these conversations and many many more took place with the constant movement of the very young -- the happy dance that kids do when they are still protected, innocent and full of joy.

Now that's great therapy.

personal hurricanes

When the storm comes and levels everything, you have a choice. You either abandon or you build again. As my very wise and dear stepfather said: what you build is either better or worse but never will it be the same.

I made a choice to seek some professional help. After that, to take an action I never thought I could take. Now I am standing on the foundation of my life and all else has been leveled off. Who will build my house again? And what will it look like?

I don't think T would mind me saying that he has also, at last, decided to get help of his own. I hope that one day soon we can build again what we allowed to be demolished.

Thanks for your prayers-- and for those of you who aren't just blog friends, for your calls. When people say the internet is too impersonal, well, they don't know you.

Peace,
Rose

Thursday, September 08, 2005

lamest blog on earth

Now someone is going to google "lamest blog on earth" and get mine. Oh well.

It just hit me that the last post was so bad I ought to just delete it and remain silent. See, the problem is that this is my place to think with my fingers but the only thing I think about these days is something I just can't share with all of you right now.

I can say that I am deeply unhappy and would appreciate your prayers as I try to deal with some things. Things that have made me so sad and nervous that my gut is palpably twisting almost every minute of the day. This is not to worry anyone but just to say, as so often we do not, that I need your help. Let me hold your hand for just a minute, please. Tell me a joke so I don't forget how to laugh.

OK, now this really is the lamest blog on earth.

favorite season?

Last night K asked me "mom, what's your favorite holiday?" Far be it from me to be a traditionalist but I am definitely a Christmas girl. The season captures for me the essence of human kindness. Everyone seems a little friendlier, a little softer, a little happier. I think of frosty windows, hot chocolate, the whole package.

She asked me about my favorite season. It used to be fall but I have to say over the last few years, fall has begun to depress the crap out of me. Everything's dying. And here comes another, just when I least can handle it.

My vote? I'll go with early summer, when the leaves are still fresh and green and the thick dust and oppressive heat have not yet settled in. Summer is birthdays and barbecues and fireflies and long evenings that come on very slowly.

Anyone want to weigh in with their favorites?

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Heart to Heart and more hurricane thoughts

If anyone is interested, Heart to Heart International is asking for both monetary donations and donations of care kits. The directions are very specific but easy and clear. I think it's a great thing to do with kids and I plan on doing a box full myself.

I don't think it's overstating things to say that this may now be the worst natural disaster in US history. When the bodies are recovered and the losses counted I think it's going to be very clear.

On a related note:
Most kids are pretty lucky to be so insulated from the problems of the world. I was definitely one of them. If anyone had told me when I was a teenager how much life could suck sometimes, I'd have politely declined my grownup membership card. I'd definitely have dragged college out for 2 more years, instead of being so anxious to get out into the world. Alas, too late. My prayer list is growing longer ... in the last two weeks a good friend was divorced, my niece may have cancer, a friend of a friend may have cancer, a co-worker's brother is still missing on the gulf coast of MS.

Sometimes I feel like there aren't enough prayers for all the hurt but then I have to remind myself, it only takes one. Just one.

PS - If you saw my earlier note about my co-worker's brother having been located, please disregard. Unfortunately, I misheard her. They have located a newspaper reporter in Alabama who has family in Gautier and has offered to go by her brother's house and look for them. If they aren't there, they'll go to the shelter and check there. The good news for now is that there are no reported deaths in Gautier. And maybe they'll have news soon.

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

good times roll no more

Hurricane Katrina will be much covered on other blogs, so just some thoughts here, nothing too lengthy or cerebral.

Because I am very likely to start crying at my computer when I look at sad news, I generally avoid anything other than a cursory glance at MSNBC and CNN.com. But today I looked around at the coverage and all I can say is the good times roll no more.

A year and a half ago I spent some time in NO for a convention and one happy afternoon I strolled along the streets of the quarter, through Jackson square and up along the Riverwalk. It was a beautiful sunny day - a nice contrast to the miserable weather I had flown away from in Columbus, OH earlier that morning.

I can't imagine that much of what I enjoyed that spring day is now rotting under several feet of filthy water. I also can't imagine what the people of NO must think of Jean Baptiste Le Moyne, whose planning resulted in a city below sea level and surrounded by water, a great big bowl waiting to be filled. They would probably like to go to Monmartre and spit on his grave.

My prayers for the gulf coast - the great cities of New Orleans, Biloxi, Gulfport, Mobile and all the little ones in between.

vacation, all I ever wanted


November can't come soon enough. I can feel the burnout starting to settle over me. I need a vacation and some time to clear my head. I think Spain is going to be the perfect remedy.

I've read about every travel guide I can get my hands on, now I need a good phrase book and for my passport to arrive and I'll be set. I think I'll eat whatever food I end up with -- but I'll try to avoid the brains and nether parts wherever possible. I guess there's always fruit -- I'll be 2 hours south of Valencia at the start of orange harvest. I won't starve. And I'm cool with paella and most of the tapas -- love olives.

Mostly I just want a quiet mind. Maybe I'm starting to figure things out -- or maybe I'm just creating a bigger mess. Who knows? But I'll be so glad to spend time with A and have my very own "grand adventure". Until that time, I guess I'll have to be content with travel guides.

Monday, August 29, 2005

Angelita

I don't know if A will jump on here again before the plane leaves for Spain on Thursday but I want to ask anyone who reads this to send up some prayers for her. Between now and Christmas her life will change radically. She will turn 21, she will live independently from all her friends and family and she will become completely absorbed in another culture and language.

This girl whom I coaxed into halting friendship with the offer of a french braid for her thick brown hair, who hid her thumb fetish under the funny papers, this girl who wept bitterly when her baby sister was punished ... this girl who has been so patient with my idiot attempts at parenting these last years -- this girl is now a woman and it's time for her to fly.

She's so brave, this woman. And crazy enough to run in to a burning building, for real. She's also tender, prickly, funny, pretty, pragmatic and opinionated. She is so much like me in so many ways, both good and bad. She could be mine even though she is not. But even her parents can't say "she's mine" -- here's the thing. She's her own and she always has been.

God, please hold and keep our Angie safe and well and grant her joy. Give her safe travels to and from and let her know how much she's loved. We love her enough to push this little bird from her nest, at last.

Vaya con Dios, Angelita.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

I did it

I made an appointment. Time to start implementing a plan instead of just thinking about it.

Everyone has a story

I think I would be a much nicer person and this would be a much nicer world if, when I interacted with people I remembered that everyone has a story.

A friend of mine just told me that one of his very good friends just found out he has cancer. He's young and he has a 2-year-old and a wife. He just got news that has rocked his world. But when he goes to the grocery store for bread and seems cranky in line, someone might think "what a jerk". I mean, I do it every day. I get my back up because someone isn't polite or because they act ... however. But I need to keep drilling it in to my head that we all have problems. We all have a story.

When you're a teenager or a young adult and you hear someone say life is so hard it's easy to be really blithe and think it applies only to some people and never to you. Oh but life is really hard. Really, really hard. How much easier it would be if we all could treat each other with a little kindness, some respect, give one another the benefit of the doubt. It would make a good day even better and a bad day bearable.

On another note, still have the counselor's number, still haven't called. Why? Scared to be told that I am wrong, scared to be told I am right?

And another note entirely: just 7 days until our A leaves for her great adventure -- 4 months in Spain. I miss her already.