Snow pictures!

From the kitchen window, and then from the yoga room. The guy shoveling is my neighbor. Later he'll be up on the porch roof sweeping the snow off so it won't collect and tumble down on top of somebody later.

Snowstorm! (am I down to seasonal blogs now!?)

The snow started last night and is still coming down. I was going to drive to RI yesterday to attend a tree trimming at some friends' house, but after seeing the weather report, I took the train and packed some extra things in case I got snowed in. The train makes me even happier than usual in inclement weather. I sat cozily down, listened to two young friends discuss their Friday night, and began finishing off the pair of socks I've been working on for months.

I had a wonderful visit, and headed out early, which I NEVER do. It was shocking to feel ok with leaving a party midway, at four o'clock. I made it home well before the snow began. Z was cooking Jambalaya when I got there, and the house was fragrant and steamy. I sat and watched him cook, and we listened to a podcast about international soccer until it was time to eat. Jambalaya, corn bread and collards all from Veganomicon. We bought this cookbook on a recommendation from some friends, and when Z took over all cooking and cleaning responsibilities as I went back to school, he took almost all of his recipes from it. (Zak has always been a fantastic cook, but he had a hard time cooking dinner after I stopped eating meat. He enjoys complicated/amazing type recipes best, and most of the vegetarian, whole food recipes we had came from Laurel's Kitchen (which I also love) but which is terribly basic and plain.) Anyhow, the meal was astounding. I can't wait to have leftovers for lunch.

I woke up to piles of snow, and happily called my yoga studio to make sure they were open before I headed over there. My love for walking in the snow in the city has to be the greatest argument that I really belong here in the Northeast. I put on my snowpants (thank you Tyson for the hand-me-down) and my red snow boots (thanks Amber) and my fantastic Winter Tilly hat that Z got me for my birthday (with the ear flaps down, of course) and headed out. Even though the air was bitter cold, and the wind was blowing the snow sideways; at my face (beneath my hat!) everyone greeted one another happily. People were shoveling, and walking their dogs and carrying multiple cups of coffee home.

Now, post-yoga, post-breakfast, mid-teapot, I'm contentedly looking forward to an afternoon of knitting, and reading, perhaps even some banana bread baking. I should help my landlady by taking a turn with the shovel. I may even invite somebody to go to a movie with me. My Sunday stretches out before me like a long toad that I can walk as long as I like.

Back in the Saddle

I just looked at this blog and realized that I posted signs of fall DIRECTLY after the signs of Spring. That'll tell you a little something about how my summer has been, I suppose. I got to garden (in a community garden plot with the kids in my class) and go to the beach. (It was beautiful and totally worth moving back across the country for!) I did NOT learn how to unicycle (damn it!) I went to a couple of cool festivals, listened to some good music, watched the baby geese grow and the pond get greener and greener. I didn't do much knitting (which is normal for me, I'm a pretty seasonal knitter) but I got to visit with a lot of friends and family.

In the spring, I realized that my friend Evan was right, and that I should go back to school at Prescott College, and suddenly started a very fast process of application and acceptance and suddenly preparing to become a student again! At the end of August, I headed out to Prescott, and had an adventure there as part of my orientation. I met three really great people, and we drove from Tucson to Prescott and then camped there for the orientation. At orientation, I discovered that I had a lot in common with all the "unconventional" "adult" learners surrounding me, and also that the staff and faculty were used to having some pretty flaky students. ("If you decide not to attend next semester, please call us and let us know!" "You must check your email regularly.")

Now I'm home again, and taking two classes this semester. After months of telling people "No, no, it's not an online degree, I'll have local mentors to teach me!" I actually have to take two required courses on "Moodle" Google's educational online platform. :(

(Technically I'm taking a third class, but not for credit. It's an online, open, free course from the University of Manitoba called Constructivism and Constructive Knowledge. More about that later.) I've got a new class of itty bitties, and a newish team. (One teacher I worked with last year, the other is a newbie this year.) After a year at this job, I really feel comfortable there, and everybody has been so kind to me. Leaving Hilltop has forced me to examine my practices through new eyes, and I'm happy about my teaching in this new context. I'm also really excited to learn all about teaching from my mentors starting next semester! (I've got two yes's so far, which is pretty exciting!)

Enough catch up. I think I"ll be blogging more this fall, in part because I'm indoors, but also because writing is a great way for me to think about what I'm learning, and I don't currently have a lot of formal writing to do for school.

Fall... Already!

- sweater!

- s0cks

- Harpoon Octoberfest in the fridge. (although Glacier Harvest '09 is way better!)

- First cold

- Second cold

- half-empty classroom

- streets clogged with young people only half paying attention to the dangerous streets around them

- was so wet and cold last week, I took the train instead of riding my bike for the first time in months

- Had to change out the darkened lenses in my bike goggles for my commute home because the sun was going down

- remembered that I left both of my hats on the train last spring, and then cut all my hair off!

Springtime Flux

I've always gotten Spring Fever.

Every year.  It's a little embarrassing. For me this manifests as nervous energy, forgetfullness, preoccupation with pretty things, falling in love with every other person who walks down the street or sits next to me in the cafe, rushing more, napping more and eating ice cream. We're nearly through it this year, and it has passed quickly, perhaps because of how satisfying this spring has been.  I know it's boring to talk about the weather, but really it has affected this whole relocation so much and so postively that I can't stop talking about it yet.

I loved seeing flowers pop out of the snow, people poking out of their heavy overcoats, leaving a scarf or mittens home one day or the next, challenging winter as it faded away.  Spring seemed so brave and hopeful.  Last week we had a legitimately hot day, and it showed us what summer will be.  In Seattle somehow, the weather seemed more distant, unassailable, and here, it feels as though the bravery of a few hatless souls may have been responsible for the whole damn thing.  In Seattle the trees would suddenly be abloom, but here there was a nice, long, smooth budding phase that allowed us to prepare our hearts and our bodies for spring.

At work, it's a whole other type of adjustment. Now instead of the parade of snowsuits, hats, scarves and mittens, it's the process of sunhats, sandal straps, water bottles and sunscreen.  The kids are happy to just sit in the grass and stare, to swing, swing, swing to hold hands and run one way and then another.  They have each mastered something brand new on the playground in the last week; the rings, pumping on a swing, flying on their bellies on the swing, climbing to the top of a tall, tall ladder, sliding down on their bellies.  Like little spring animals learning how to walk, to run, to fly or hunt.

At home I'm trying to keep some of this energy with me as I ride my bike back.  I'm still having a hard time with so many hours of my life given away to my job and commute, but the bike is faster than the train, now, and getting faster every day.  I'm still practicing my unicycle every week or so, it's still difficult to go more than five feet or so.  Maybe I'll practice again today as I clean the house before houseguests arrive.  I finally found a yoga studio that I'm crazy about which is a few less free hours in my week, but more than worth it.  It's also local soccer season, so Z and I have attended one Revolution game, and one Boston breakers game.  We'll return to ther fort this weekend with friends this time to see another Rev's game.

This is one of the most boring posts I've ever written, but, it's what I'm thinking about.

Next time, I'll have something hilarious, thoughtful and shocking for you.

Trash in the Sky Day

The back part of my classroom is all windows.  We eat back there, and we've spent a lot of time lately, watching the pigeons, squirrels and crows who visit our side yard and playground.  Today, I looked up and saw a big piece of paper floating on the breeze about 30 feet in the air.  As the spring breeze gently set it down on the playground, I looked up and saw another that looked like the paper wrapping for a toilet paper roll tossing around up there.  "Guys?  Did you see that trash?" I asked the three year olds around me?  They didn't so some of them said that they did as they looked wildly about, and the rest admitted they didn't.  They caught the next piece of garbage as it fell, though.  Our school is nestled in the bosom (or lap depending on your perspective) of a Harvard housing project of high-rises.  I imagined that someone had irresponsibly left garbage on their balcony and it was now being distributed by the elements.  

"Whoa!  There's another one!  Happy Trash in the sky day, everybody!"

"Happy Trash in the sky day, Kendra!" somebody hollered back.

About an hour later, we went out on the playground with another class.  A teacher and a kid were looking up for a long time, when I saw a stretch of paper towels drifting past the branches of a tree.  I wandered over with a wry, knowing smile, ready to tell them about trash in the sky day... and realized they were watching a squirrel build a garbage nest!  The little one would run into the dumpsters, grab some paper material and then drag it way up the tree and try to stuff it into the tiny stick frame it had constructed! 

Another sign of spring, and reminder that there are parts of THIS urban ecosystem that I'm just not prepared for.

No more coffee

I stopped drinking coffee.

Yesterday.

I've stopped before for lots of reasons, and generally have been fine without coffee for months at a time.  Quitting coffee was on my mind when I quit smoking two and a half years ago, and I'd like to give it another go.  I know that my mornings are much more cheerful, my moods more predictable, and my skin is happier when I don't have caffeine in my body, so I'm doing it again.  

I have an oppressive headache.  I drank Yerba mate today and yesterday, which I remember really taking the pain out of withdrawal, but that is not the case this weekend.  Zak just reminded me that I could take an aspirin and make the headache go away, and I RAN to the medicine cabinet.  

I remember years ago, I went out to a party with my friend Paula.  Somebody gave me a ride home around 5 in the morning, and I was hungry, a little hungover and not ready to sleep yet, so I grabbed the National Geographic that had just arrived in the mail, and headed to Denny's.  I was still smoking then and I looked forward to a long stretch of time, drinking coffee, smoking, and reading about the world.  There was an article in the magazine about caffeine and the brain, and somewhere in the middle of it, I drank the first cup of decaf of my life.  It was not delicious, but it was too impossible to read the article AND drink coffee at the same time.

I'm one of those people for whom the pain and physical symptoms of withdrawal are comforting signals that I'm doing a good thing.  (This was true when I quit smoking too.)  It's still distracting as hell.

UNICYCLE

Ok, so I bought a unicycle.
I went to EMS months ago for some yoga pants and saw it, and thought "Man, that would be cool."
Then, I needed some cold weather biking gloves and I saw it WITH its 30% off sign.
Wow. "How much could that be?!" I thought. I came home and asked Z "How much would be the right price for a unicycle?" He said "$200" (He's very kind and likes to let me splurge on yarn.) It was less than $100, so I got it. I live in a neighborhood with two big "walking around the pond" events per year, so I figure if nothing else, I've got those opportunities to unicycle. Also, of course, cross-lateral balance can be very helpful to our coordination and our brains as we age, and ... you know I'm aging as much as anyone.

The morning I went to buy it, I read everything I could about learing to unicycle. Everybody has differing opinions about surfaces (grass or concrete?) and support (pair of chairs? fence or wall? two friends? nothing?). One person said "Remember to flail your arms. This is very important, and will help." You wouldn't think I'd need help flailing about in such a situaltion, but I did... it took me 15 minutes of trying to balance!

I bought it during the two hour break I have on Wednesdays, then had some time practicing on the playground. (I bought a roller-blading pad set, so my knees and wrists are protected when I fall, which I do. Although I've landed on my feet every time.) Yesterday I could mount (while holding on to a thing), fall off, and then occasionally pedal a half rotation or so. I also learned not to unicycle in cordoroys for chafing reasons.

Today I balanced a little bit at home (to show off for Z, and before my downstairs neighbor/landlady came home from work) . Then I headed out to the tennis court near my house. I remembered teaching small children to ride bikes (I've probably taught 50 kids how to ride and take off their training wheels.) and how they fall off when they expect to instead of continuing to pedal. I decided to treat myself like a kindergartner during practice, and asked myself to pedal farther than I thought I could, and sang a little circus song (the tromboney one "da da dadda dah dah Da dah dah DA dah") to myself. It worked! I pedaled a few rotations, and even got it to go in a quarter circle (more or less on purpose!) It was awesome.

I've got a kickass bruise on my thigh from falling off, and am anticipating some SERIOUS shin injuries when I start hopping on it without support. It's exhilerating to try something so completely new, and to do it alone. Just wait till I can juggle on it!

Anyhow, if you have parade coming up that needs someone to fall down every yard or so CALL ME!

The hits keep on comin'

More Spring signs

Disclaimer: While I understand that it could snow in Boston on any day in March or April, I'm celebrating moments of spring-like weather and attitudes as they occur. This may irritate bores, literalists or fuddy-duddies. For instance when Z wore shorts the other day and smiled at a passerbye, she offered (in a grouchy voice) "Don't put away your boots yet!"

Today it reached 50 degrees and I spent a couple of hours walking around in it. I underdressed (Seattle tradition) to get as much sunlight on my skin as possible. It was fantastic to smile at my neighbors as they did errands, strolled around the pond, and generally blossomed. Here are some signs of spring to add to my list....

Pictured:
The hat shop is totally ready to move forward.

Honey Bees! (You may have to look really closely... the Iphone has no zoom.) These bees were buzzing around so merrily in and out of this tree that it made me think of Winnie the Pooh. In that hole, I could see the honeycomb and the entrance to the hive.)

Not pictured: frisky ducks and Canada geese, children drunk with sunshine. My three new springy t-shirts from Boomerang's.

Signs of spring

It's still winter here in Massachusetts, I know. Please don't think I'm fooled by a little sun and weather warm enough for me to leave my gloves and mittens at home, because I'm not.
On the other hand, it's really gorgeous, and my body does not understand that there are still weeks of wintry weather and more snow ahead. My body wants to eat ice cream and fire up the grill and go to the beach and climb trees and things like that... even though I know better.

So here is a list (with some illustrative photos) of signs of spring:
1. The outdoor busking has begun again at Harvard Square (note bagpiper setting down a cup of coffee)
2. Crocuses are blooming, along with snow drops AND there are chirpy little robins bopping around as though they would also like to eat ice cream, and cook out.
3. My cat is lying around in puddles of sunshine on the floor.
4. (Not pictured) I was almost hit by a baseball that was thrown by a child in a Red Sox jersey and just missed the mitt of a young man in a Red Sox jersey.

I'll keep an eye out and post more signs as they show themselves. What are the signs of spring where you live?

Zak calls it the Accident Room.

I call it the Emergency room, and at Group Health, where I went for Medical care in Seattle, they called it Urgent Care.

Tonight I called my new doctor here in Boston. Her office closed at 5pm, so I get the choices of Urgent care or Medical advice. At Group Health, the Medical advice nurses could do triage and then make an appointment for you the next day because they keep their appointments in a database. At my new doctor, the woman on the phone couldn't make me an appointment, or tell me if any will be available because "They closed the book at 5." She said that tomorrow I could go to Urgent care. I told her my concern. Turns out, at this new hospital, "Urgent Care" means which ever doctor doesn't have an appointment will come and see you instead of your doctor OR the emergency room, or accident room, or whatever. It also turns out that they write appointments in a book instead of entering them into a spreadsheet which is really wierd. That only took a couple of minutes, but it sure was confusing.

Good Housekeeping

Today I finally continued the unpacking project known as the early part of November. I abandoned this project to celebrate some holidays and spend time with people and work at a newish job, and generally live in a day to day way. The entire time, though, Z and I were aware that certain parts of our lives were missing. Z had done a tremendous job designing systems to make our lives work beautifully, but many of the beautiful objects from our old home (photos, paintings, prints and rocks, mostly) hadn't made it onto the walls.

I've been knitting out of a box of needles and yarn... a huge cardboard box of yarn and needles all tangled up. That's still a mess, I'm afraid. But the plants were repotted. Important, fragile bits of decoration (like the well-wrapped Woodsie, here) were unpacked, and certain elements of our kitchen finalized. (Not that final Z, you still have a veto, here.) Here's a couple of snapshots of progress. I DO wish that I'd taken some before shots.

The pretty cabinet full of gorgeous dishes was similar before, only that bottom shelf had a been a "very important paper/object and coin depository since day one", so it was strewn with a laptop, and papers and an old burbon bottle full of change.

The pantry had housed a bunch of dishes and some food, but the food had lived over in the (very sunny) kitchen, so, that had to change.

There's two things in the bottom photo. One, I brought home this oak ivy as a house warming gift to Z, but it's been floating, homeless around the apartment ever since our first week here. We each wanted to suspend it in this (windowless) transom over the kitchen door, but couldn't find a way to get it there. You can see she's happy in her new home AND that the coffee/tea station has finally come to fruition. We thought it would be awesome to have all coffee/tea and associated aparatus in one part of the kitchen altogether, uncomplicated by other clutter, to preserve the sanctity of the first moments of morning. It's finally all together, there in the lower corner of the photo.

The last weeks have been filled with a terrible cold for both Z and me (he NEVER gets sick) and hurried, belated birthday knitting (sorry Pop). With any luck, the next photos on this blog will be my dad in his enormous scarf. (The weather has been cooperating with this project, and I have no doubt that it will still be cold enough when he gets it.)

Yelling "Fire" in a crowded T stop doesn't have the same effect.

I took inauguration day off so that I could watch the proceedings as they happened.  Since we don't have cable at our house, I headed off to a bar nearbye.  (Yes, they WERE showing it at all the libraries, but I was unsure what kind of scene that might be and I was pretty certain what it would look like at Doyle's, so I headed over there.)

As I walked down the stairs, I smelled smoke, and thought "Crazy JP!  Did somebody burn sage down here to cleanse the T on this new day of hope?!"  I saw some haze in the air, rolled my eyes, figured it MIGHT be some friction between train and rail, and continued trying to get CNN on my phone.  Eventually, I heard a man, almost shouting into the emergency call box beneath the escalators.

"... a small fire at Stonybrook station."

"Ok, sir, but you'll have to call a dispatcher."

"No, no.  I'm a passenger... on the T... and I'm reporting a FIRE here at Stonybrook station."

"Yes, sir.  I heard you, but you'll have to call the dispatcher."

At this point most of us on the platform had subtly scooted ourselves closer so that we could hear everything.  I'd looked around and realized that there was an actual fire on the line where the train to Forest Hills runs. The man had been bent over to get his mouth close to the call box, and at this, he straightened up and gave the most comically blank look I think I've ever seen.  We chuckled, and he tried again.

"Listen, I'm a PASSENGER, and I'm telling YOU that there's a FIRE at the T stop at Stonybrook station.  You WORK fo the T, I need YOU to call somebody!"

The woman started to protest but at this point the train to Oak Grove showed up and the man left the call box and boarded the train.  I also boarded the train (I ride this train everyday, and so even though I needed to go towards Forest Hills, I climbed on my usual train and rode a stop in the wrong direction.)  The passenger next to me asked "Do you smell smoke?"  "Yes." I said. "There's a fire at the Stonybrook station."  I said this calmly and looked at the man who'd been trying to do the right thing back there at the call box.  No reaction.  "Oh." Said the woman.  "Thank you for telling me."  Later, on the correct train, I had an identical conversation.  It was strange because I found the words "There's a fire at the Stonybrook T stop." terribly funny even though I really couldn't explain it.

and then, of course, I watched our nation's history change in front of us and drank a beer to celebrate.

Climbing

I was sitting on a big cozy cushion on a barn floor a few blocks from my house tonight when the man on stage asked us to turn off our cell phones.  I had not yet committed to taking off my jacket or hat, but was encouraged by the space heaters gathered around.  I didn't have my phone with me.  I ALWAY have it but today I dropped it and shattered the screen and so my new one was at home attached to my computer, remembering all the things my old phone knew, in no danger of disturbing the show.

The people around me were wearing lots of wool, and big boots and I wasn't the only one who'd kept my hat on.  The girl in front of me had a sign pinned to her back with numbers of Palestinan and Isreali casualties, that had white out beneath the numbers where she'd white them out again tomorrow to change them.  I hated looking at it, but my eyes kept going there, and I checked them,  18 and 718, as though she might white them out and change them during the singing.  The stage was lit by some strings of lights and a central red bulb, and a humidifier sat on the stage occasionally appearing to be a pathetic smoke machine.  I'm generally very good about remembering to turn off my phone at concerts, and since I hadn't done it I started a few times during the first song or two, remembering and then remembering that I had none.  The music was gorgeous, two groups of singers; one men, one women, one Georgian, one Appalachian, one from JP, one (mostly) from California (now).  We sang together, and by the end I was hatless and breathless. 

Earlier today I made my first trip to an Apple store...

I was cranky because I'd shattered my phone.  The people who worked there were all wearing t-shirts, except for the person whose job it was to open the door for people and cheerfully greet us; that person was dressed wierdly with a t-shirt and a hat and scarf.  I was late for my "appointment" with the "genius bar" and couldn't FIND the "genius bar" and resented having to ask someone how to find it.  I thumped up this huge, central, curving, invisible,  glass staircase awkwardly in my snowboots (we all thumped up and down it awkwardly and treacherously because we were all wearing snowboots) sweating in my long underwear.  I submitted to saying "genius bar" to someone too busy to look at me, followed their pointing finger up the REST of the staircase, stripped off all my over-layers and dumped them on a bench nearbye.  I took stock.  I was cranky, nervous, and shy and I had to shop AND admit that I'd droipped and broken a little, expensive computer that I keep in my pocket mostly so I can end disputes with wikis, don't have to ask directions, and so that I can read my friends witty responses to my witticisms on Facebook.  Yuck.  

I finally had to walk down those damn steps, having paid for and obtained my new phone and hot pink case (don't ask), and then donned my sweater, down vest, wool cape, hat, scarf and gloves. I was sure I'd fall down them and crash into some comfortable, cheerfully entitled-looking people. I teetered in the middle, and then kept going.  At the bottom was a man with a bottle of windex and a swiffer, gazing up at me and the steps under me.  He had a long day ahead of him, because we all were wearing snowboots covered in skunky ice.  I sighed then and smiled and apologized to the universe.

So, really, it was great when I didn't have my phone in the barn.  

It was great, and warm, and beautiful.