Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Not every childcare worker...
Gets to attend professional development at the Harvard Faculty Club. I know it would be much cooler of me not to notice the high-quality paper towels and hand lotion available in the bathroom, the sterling coffee service, and the general gorgeousnes of the surroundings. I know that just saying it loud makes me sound like a bumpkin in a disrespected field who is used to Howard Johnson's conference rooms (and I'm not... I've been on work retreats that rivaled yoga retreats!) But, I really appreciated our surroundings for this conference.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Kurt Vonnegut didn't have to write all those stories, he could just name off the big idea and say Kilgore Trout wrote it.
Here are the things I thought about writing about today:
The forbidden joy of playing a board game with a friend in the middle of a work day. I was going to work later which only made it feel more decadent and forbidden.
The thrill and challenge of driving through rush hour down town on my bike afterdark, followed by the comfort of the smooth open bike path with one or two little blinking red lights up ahead for company and competition.
The (unusual for me) feeling of giving someone a perfect gift.
The wonder and freedom of a new journal.
The smug eye contact I enjoy sharing with my fellow November in New England cyclist commuters.
How powerfully my time with one true, exhilaratingly fun, thoughtful and delightful friend makes me think about all the others.
But now I’m going to wash the dishes because I’ve been spending a lot of time with friends and family instead of taking care of business lately.
The forbidden joy of playing a board game with a friend in the middle of a work day. I was going to work later which only made it feel more decadent and forbidden.
The thrill and challenge of driving through rush hour down town on my bike afterdark, followed by the comfort of the smooth open bike path with one or two little blinking red lights up ahead for company and competition.
The (unusual for me) feeling of giving someone a perfect gift.
The wonder and freedom of a new journal.
The smug eye contact I enjoy sharing with my fellow November in New England cyclist commuters.
How powerfully my time with one true, exhilaratingly fun, thoughtful and delightful friend makes me think about all the others.
But now I’m going to wash the dishes because I’ve been spending a lot of time with friends and family instead of taking care of business lately.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Through to Sunrise
I can type without looking at the keys, which means that right now, as I type,I'm actually looking out the window. I'm in a forward facing seat on the Commuter Rail to Providence, and the sun is coming up. It's bright. When we hit a treeless piece of track, I turn to face it for as long as I can stand. Maybe it's the time I spent in Seattle, but in the winter it seems like I can feel something good coming into my eyes when I look at the sun.
I didn't sleep much last night,but I feel very awake.
I travel this way pretty often, but it's so rare that I watch the miles go by.
Last night when Z got home from soccer he told me he ran into two cyclists who asked directions to Inman square. Because telling directions on the bike path is pretty tricky (There are few signs, and the path is interrupted a few times by streets)he suggested they take the train. "We rode from Providence!" they said "and by now its a point of pride. We're riding all the way." Z couldn't argue with that, as he recently fit a huge box of DISHES on his bike and pedaled a few miles for the same reason. He gave the travelers simple directions on main streets.
Needless to say we were both impressed. We'd looked at the possibility of that ride before, and it's really long. As I look at all these miles passing by, I'm a little surprised. When I really consider it, I realize that I think of Boston and Providence as separated by time, but not really by distance. I often say "here" in a way that encompasses Boston, Providence, South County with no difference. Sitting on the train, reading, writing, snoozing or hanging out with Z is just part of the penance I have to pay, but I don't consider the miles, just the minutes.
The exception to this is occasionally when I have to explore the stops between my two destinations. Occasionally if there's some rush and someone could meet me in a car, I'll look at the map and figure out where exactly a place like Mansfield or Sharon is. One time, I thought I had cash and jumped aboard the train planning to pay en route. (If I'm honest, I'll tell you, I thought I could pay with a card on the train. If the waitstaff at WagaMama can have handheld credit card machines, why can't the MBTA? Boy did the conductor think I was an idiot for thinking that! Another holdover of my Seattle personality.)
Anyway, she turned me out at the next available stop... Route 128! I felt stranded in an unknown wilderness. I called my pal Mrs. Gray, and asked her to pick me up because it would be hours before I could catch another train and we'd planned to spend the day together. I could give her no directions, so she followed her GPS to get there. I walked, blinking and bewildered out of the station, found a busy enough intersection with a parking lot where I could wait and told her where I was.
I feel a little like that now, seeing the quaint steeples, gritty mills, tract housing, lines of oak trees going by; confronted with the reality of the distance. When we were 19 my friend Julie and I took a train to Oakland, CA from Providence. We met hundreds of people on the way. This morning, looking out the window at the pink sky and the golden light on the trees over the hunched leather jacket of my seatmate, I remembered an agreement we made early on in the trip. We had perhaps stayed up late with a new friend who had taught us to play Euchre in the club car, or maybe had just been awakened by a stop at daybreak, but we sat in our seats and watched the sunrise over... upstate New York perhaps? It was so beautiful, and we were starting to understand what we had in store for the next week. We agreed like 8 year old blood brothers that anytime there was something incredible like a sunset or a sunrise, we each had the permission to awaken the other. Sleep was nothing compared to seeing the entire country out the window of the Amtrack train.
I feel a little like that now in a lot of ways. Now I'll try to get to know the scenery on this train ride the way I know my walk to the library or my bike ride to work. Our return to New England has felt so much like a glimpse into all the meanings a place can hold for us.
Of course, days later, after spending the night chatting with some other young people in the viewing and smoking cars, I returned to my seat during the most beautiful sunrise over Minnesota. I hesitated and then awakened Julie. She peeked out the window and said "Yeah. Thanks Kendra. Maybe we won't do that anymore. I'll see you tomorrow."
I didn't sleep much last night,but I feel very awake.
I travel this way pretty often, but it's so rare that I watch the miles go by.
Last night when Z got home from soccer he told me he ran into two cyclists who asked directions to Inman square. Because telling directions on the bike path is pretty tricky (There are few signs, and the path is interrupted a few times by streets)he suggested they take the train. "We rode from Providence!" they said "and by now its a point of pride. We're riding all the way." Z couldn't argue with that, as he recently fit a huge box of DISHES on his bike and pedaled a few miles for the same reason. He gave the travelers simple directions on main streets.
Needless to say we were both impressed. We'd looked at the possibility of that ride before, and it's really long. As I look at all these miles passing by, I'm a little surprised. When I really consider it, I realize that I think of Boston and Providence as separated by time, but not really by distance. I often say "here" in a way that encompasses Boston, Providence, South County with no difference. Sitting on the train, reading, writing, snoozing or hanging out with Z is just part of the penance I have to pay, but I don't consider the miles, just the minutes.
The exception to this is occasionally when I have to explore the stops between my two destinations. Occasionally if there's some rush and someone could meet me in a car, I'll look at the map and figure out where exactly a place like Mansfield or Sharon is. One time, I thought I had cash and jumped aboard the train planning to pay en route. (If I'm honest, I'll tell you, I thought I could pay with a card on the train. If the waitstaff at WagaMama can have handheld credit card machines, why can't the MBTA? Boy did the conductor think I was an idiot for thinking that! Another holdover of my Seattle personality.)
Anyway, she turned me out at the next available stop... Route 128! I felt stranded in an unknown wilderness. I called my pal Mrs. Gray, and asked her to pick me up because it would be hours before I could catch another train and we'd planned to spend the day together. I could give her no directions, so she followed her GPS to get there. I walked, blinking and bewildered out of the station, found a busy enough intersection with a parking lot where I could wait and told her where I was.
I feel a little like that now, seeing the quaint steeples, gritty mills, tract housing, lines of oak trees going by; confronted with the reality of the distance. When we were 19 my friend Julie and I took a train to Oakland, CA from Providence. We met hundreds of people on the way. This morning, looking out the window at the pink sky and the golden light on the trees over the hunched leather jacket of my seatmate, I remembered an agreement we made early on in the trip. We had perhaps stayed up late with a new friend who had taught us to play Euchre in the club car, or maybe had just been awakened by a stop at daybreak, but we sat in our seats and watched the sunrise over... upstate New York perhaps? It was so beautiful, and we were starting to understand what we had in store for the next week. We agreed like 8 year old blood brothers that anytime there was something incredible like a sunset or a sunrise, we each had the permission to awaken the other. Sleep was nothing compared to seeing the entire country out the window of the Amtrack train.
I feel a little like that now in a lot of ways. Now I'll try to get to know the scenery on this train ride the way I know my walk to the library or my bike ride to work. Our return to New England has felt so much like a glimpse into all the meanings a place can hold for us.
Of course, days later, after spending the night chatting with some other young people in the viewing and smoking cars, I returned to my seat during the most beautiful sunrise over Minnesota. I hesitated and then awakened Julie. She peeked out the window and said "Yeah. Thanks Kendra. Maybe we won't do that anymore. I'll see you tomorrow."
Friday, November 5, 2010
I was supposed to be reading...
I've been trying to dry our laundry without a dryer lately. This is both easier and harder as a laundromat patron. It's easier because it saves me a LOT of quarters and time sitting at the cafe next to the laundromat. It's harder because it feels strange to cart wet laundry through the streets and up the stairs to my apartment.
This means that I only have 30 minutes or so to wait while my laundry washes. Unfortunately, my new laundromat (the one I recently started visiting, the one that has a hand lettered sign in the window that says "New Owner and He's CUTE!") plays daytime television very loudly. I actually have a hard time not getting mad in there just because of the fear/shame-based shows, so I started going next door, to the Robinwood cafe. Once, I got a spinach pie there and it was really delicious. I'd looked through their entire four page menu without finding much vegetarian, and not much that I was excited to eat (they have breakfast all day, but I try not to eat factory farmed eggs) when I spied (under desserts!) a spinach pie. Turns out the owners are Greek and the Spinach pie is fantastic!
Today, I started my wash (I added Cocacola to one of the washers to deal with some olive oil stains. My sister told me it would work. The clothes are still on the porch, so it remains to be seen.) then headed to the cafe. Since I'm broke, and I'd bought the coke there, I sat at a table with the half-full coke and asked for water to drink while I read.
I heard the young, enthusiastic waiter plugging a show he was playing tonight at Spontaneous Celebrations, a community center near my house. Then, I heard him talking with an older Greek woman who runs the show at the cafe, possibly an owner.
Woman: What will you wear?
Waiter: Jeans and a Tshirt. Normal stuff.
Woman: Do you play songs? Nice Songs? _______________
(Now,in that blank spot, I thought she said "like, musical?" But the kid (who knows her better and was actually in the conversation seemed to think she said "like disco". I'll never know which it was, but it works both ways.)
Waiter: Like disco? I tell you every time. It's hard core punk. It's fast and loud.
I returned to my reading about how school systems can build schools to teach higher order thinking skills for a moment until...
Waiter: When it's recorded, people say I sound Japanese. (guy is white)
Woman: Japanese?
Waiter: yeah.
Woman: What do you say? What are the words? Are there lyrics?
The waiter then very sincerely explained what the songs were about. But that was so sweet that I didn't write it down. He also explained that they had made their own posters, t shirts, cassettes (?) and cds and then given most of them away. The woman was not very impressed with this business plan and told him so.
The whole time, I must point out, "Your song" by Elton John was playing in the background.
This means that I only have 30 minutes or so to wait while my laundry washes. Unfortunately, my new laundromat (the one I recently started visiting, the one that has a hand lettered sign in the window that says "New Owner and He's CUTE!") plays daytime television very loudly. I actually have a hard time not getting mad in there just because of the fear/shame-based shows, so I started going next door, to the Robinwood cafe. Once, I got a spinach pie there and it was really delicious. I'd looked through their entire four page menu without finding much vegetarian, and not much that I was excited to eat (they have breakfast all day, but I try not to eat factory farmed eggs) when I spied (under desserts!) a spinach pie. Turns out the owners are Greek and the Spinach pie is fantastic!
Today, I started my wash (I added Cocacola to one of the washers to deal with some olive oil stains. My sister told me it would work. The clothes are still on the porch, so it remains to be seen.) then headed to the cafe. Since I'm broke, and I'd bought the coke there, I sat at a table with the half-full coke and asked for water to drink while I read.
I heard the young, enthusiastic waiter plugging a show he was playing tonight at Spontaneous Celebrations, a community center near my house. Then, I heard him talking with an older Greek woman who runs the show at the cafe, possibly an owner.
Woman: What will you wear?
Waiter: Jeans and a Tshirt. Normal stuff.
Woman: Do you play songs? Nice Songs? _______________
(Now,in that blank spot, I thought she said "like, musical?" But the kid (who knows her better and was actually in the conversation seemed to think she said "like disco". I'll never know which it was, but it works both ways.)
Waiter: Like disco? I tell you every time. It's hard core punk. It's fast and loud.
I returned to my reading about how school systems can build schools to teach higher order thinking skills for a moment until...
Waiter: When it's recorded, people say I sound Japanese. (guy is white)
Woman: Japanese?
Waiter: yeah.
Woman: What do you say? What are the words? Are there lyrics?
The waiter then very sincerely explained what the songs were about. But that was so sweet that I didn't write it down. He also explained that they had made their own posters, t shirts, cassettes (?) and cds and then given most of them away. The woman was not very impressed with this business plan and told him so.
The whole time, I must point out, "Your song" by Elton John was playing in the background.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Running Hot and Cold
I woke up in Providence today. I spent the night at friends' house (they live in a trick or treating-er neighborhood than we do. When I arrived yesterday afternoon, I was wearing a t-shirt. (Z and I take our bikes to the train, then ride the train to PVD, then ride another 15 or 20 minutes to our friends' place in Cranston.) I couldn't believe how warm it was "kids won't have to hide their costumes under coats tonight!" I thought.
Then, by the time we went trick or treating (there were two kids there for us to accompany, because it's kind of creepy to wander around as just adults) I needed my Mork and Mindy vest. (I also had gloves... I dressed as a cyclist who didn't wear a helmet, cursed to wear one and a lock around my neck for all eternity in a very gory, morbid morality tale of a costume.) The children we were with were dressed as a princess strawberry and a slice of pizza. The elder (about 6) was chased down the sidewalk by a man in coveralls and a mask wielding a chainsaw. The kid was wicked scared, but blessedly he was scared shitless in that wonderfully Halloween fun way. It's a fine line to walk and it's heartbreaking when we accidentally fall over that line into trauma, but we managed it as a group.
Today, cycling to the train station, I was so cold I had a headache that started at my ears, went into my eustatian tubes and froze my brain. I wore every stitch of clothing I had plus Z's jacket, and I was still cold.
Once we returned to Boston (and I put on some smartwool) I was cozy again. My ride to work was mild and pleasant. I stayed a little too long though. Even though it was only 5:30 when I left I needed my lights. Though the temprature had dropped, with my winter riding gloves and my vest I was warm enough.
Sitting here today, though, in a house that smells of roasting pumpkin, I am really warm!
Ups and downs. I guess I shouldn't complain.... soon it'll be almost all cool all the time.
(In case you cant' tell by my general lack of content for this post, I'm going to try to blog every day this month along with a lot of other cool bloggers. I wonder what it will be like!)
(I'm also taking an email class this month from a Buddhist teacher and author I've learned a lot from, Cheri Huber. I wonder a lot about that too!)
Then, by the time we went trick or treating (there were two kids there for us to accompany, because it's kind of creepy to wander around as just adults) I needed my Mork and Mindy vest. (I also had gloves... I dressed as a cyclist who didn't wear a helmet, cursed to wear one and a lock around my neck for all eternity in a very gory, morbid morality tale of a costume.) The children we were with were dressed as a princess strawberry and a slice of pizza. The elder (about 6) was chased down the sidewalk by a man in coveralls and a mask wielding a chainsaw. The kid was wicked scared, but blessedly he was scared shitless in that wonderfully Halloween fun way. It's a fine line to walk and it's heartbreaking when we accidentally fall over that line into trauma, but we managed it as a group.
Today, cycling to the train station, I was so cold I had a headache that started at my ears, went into my eustatian tubes and froze my brain. I wore every stitch of clothing I had plus Z's jacket, and I was still cold.
Once we returned to Boston (and I put on some smartwool) I was cozy again. My ride to work was mild and pleasant. I stayed a little too long though. Even though it was only 5:30 when I left I needed my lights. Though the temprature had dropped, with my winter riding gloves and my vest I was warm enough.
Sitting here today, though, in a house that smells of roasting pumpkin, I am really warm!
Ups and downs. I guess I shouldn't complain.... soon it'll be almost all cool all the time.
(In case you cant' tell by my general lack of content for this post, I'm going to try to blog every day this month along with a lot of other cool bloggers. I wonder what it will be like!)
(I'm also taking an email class this month from a Buddhist teacher and author I've learned a lot from, Cheri Huber. I wonder a lot about that too!)
Friday, October 1, 2010
Welcome back, October!
This was the status of a friend who is a Libra like me.
As I wrote the date in my journal this morning, I felt a familiar pang of "October already?" In other years, I've made banal comments to strangers and coworkers about how quickly time goes, how hard it is to believe, how wistful I am about the whole thing. Working with very young children really exacerbates this sensation. Sometimes I'll look at a photo I took just a month or two ago, and be stunned by how much the child has stretched out, her face taken more shape, her vocabulary and physical strength increased in that short time. Children are never disappointed that time moves on.
Today, when I wrote the date, instead of feeling time hustling me forward, I cheered it on a little. "Yes!" I thought. "Go to bed, 2010. It's nearly time for you to be done." This has been a rich, full year (and it's not even over yet!) but it's also held a lot of pain for my family, friends and I. So I'm not clinging to it today, or bemoaning it's passage, I'm embracing the natural process of falling away. I think about the darkness in the evening, the chill in the wind (not today... not this week, actually, but I swear I got to wear wool socks once in September) the apples and squashes piled on my table and I am happy. I'm like a bear going sleepily into hibernation, a rose dying back, just ready for the wind and snow and darkness to come. Then in a little while, I'll be ready for the sun again, and for a new year to begin.
As I wrote the date in my journal this morning, I felt a familiar pang of "October already?" In other years, I've made banal comments to strangers and coworkers about how quickly time goes, how hard it is to believe, how wistful I am about the whole thing. Working with very young children really exacerbates this sensation. Sometimes I'll look at a photo I took just a month or two ago, and be stunned by how much the child has stretched out, her face taken more shape, her vocabulary and physical strength increased in that short time. Children are never disappointed that time moves on.
Today, when I wrote the date, instead of feeling time hustling me forward, I cheered it on a little. "Yes!" I thought. "Go to bed, 2010. It's nearly time for you to be done." This has been a rich, full year (and it's not even over yet!) but it's also held a lot of pain for my family, friends and I. So I'm not clinging to it today, or bemoaning it's passage, I'm embracing the natural process of falling away. I think about the darkness in the evening, the chill in the wind (not today... not this week, actually, but I swear I got to wear wool socks once in September) the apples and squashes piled on my table and I am happy. I'm like a bear going sleepily into hibernation, a rose dying back, just ready for the wind and snow and darkness to come. Then in a little while, I'll be ready for the sun again, and for a new year to begin.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Yeah, awesome, go...
My commute to work is about 4.5 miles and a good chunk of that is on two bike paths. There are a few exciting parts where I have to pass through busy intersections, but mostly it's cake. There are excitements of another kind, however, now that I commute at odd hours. I used to be heading out around 7, or 7:30 or 10 when lots of people were going to work. Now it's later, around the middle of the day when everyone is pretty mellow.
The first episode today was when I was heading very fast down a big hill. I saw an ambulance parked by the side of the road and an odd tableau came into view. Two EMT's stood, looking down with their arms folded at a man on the ground. The man on the ground was wearing only spandex shorts and running shoes. He looked like he was lounging because he was leaning back on one elbow, gesticulating high in the air with his other hand. Lastly, there was a cyclist, helmet on but unbuckled, bike against a nearby tree, also looking down at the man but more exasperated than the EMT's. I didn't have time to make up much of a story because I went by them as quickly as I could. My guess: a crash of some kind between runner and cyclist, but everyone but the shirtless man thinks that he's ok. The shirtless man feels that there's been an injustice.
Later that afternoon, as I was biking home, there was a guy walking his mountain bike up the short hill to the BU bridge. He kept wandering from side to side so I couldn't quite make it around him. I "ding-ed" my cheerful little bell to let him know I was coming around the outside of him. He growled at me "uh... Yeah! Awesome, go!" as I passed.
I passed the place where I always look for a deer by the road (I've seen her there twice) and was barreling through some trees that border a soccer field on one side when I saw a 13 year old girl in soccer clothes, standing around looking vague by the side of the bike path. Then, right as I came even with her another girl in a matching kit stood up and pulled her shorts up in one movement communicating "I just finished peeing outdoors" then saw me and said "Oh!" and I laughed out loud HARD.
Thank goodness Fredrick Olmstead worked so hard to keep these lands available to the public!
The first episode today was when I was heading very fast down a big hill. I saw an ambulance parked by the side of the road and an odd tableau came into view. Two EMT's stood, looking down with their arms folded at a man on the ground. The man on the ground was wearing only spandex shorts and running shoes. He looked like he was lounging because he was leaning back on one elbow, gesticulating high in the air with his other hand. Lastly, there was a cyclist, helmet on but unbuckled, bike against a nearby tree, also looking down at the man but more exasperated than the EMT's. I didn't have time to make up much of a story because I went by them as quickly as I could. My guess: a crash of some kind between runner and cyclist, but everyone but the shirtless man thinks that he's ok. The shirtless man feels that there's been an injustice.
Later that afternoon, as I was biking home, there was a guy walking his mountain bike up the short hill to the BU bridge. He kept wandering from side to side so I couldn't quite make it around him. I "ding-ed" my cheerful little bell to let him know I was coming around the outside of him. He growled at me "uh... Yeah! Awesome, go!" as I passed.
I passed the place where I always look for a deer by the road (I've seen her there twice) and was barreling through some trees that border a soccer field on one side when I saw a 13 year old girl in soccer clothes, standing around looking vague by the side of the bike path. Then, right as I came even with her another girl in a matching kit stood up and pulled her shorts up in one movement communicating "I just finished peeing outdoors" then saw me and said "Oh!" and I laughed out loud HARD.
Thank goodness Fredrick Olmstead worked so hard to keep these lands available to the public!
Thursday, September 9, 2010
140 characters or less?
I recently friended an old high school friend from high school. He sent me a message "catching up" the last 15 years in a few sentences: NY, wife, baby, new album. Then he asked, how about you "Give me your life so far in 140 characters?"
I have to imagine that 140 is the max for a tweet. (I do have a twitter account but have tweeted a handful of times about 3 years ago... weirdly, I still get emails that people have started following me on twitter, many of whom are strangers. It must be very dull for them.)
Anyway, it's very difficult for me to do this sort of thing in any time. This has been a particularly challenging year, which somehow colors my experience. I started out and then took it back about 100 times. My deepest fear when I was an adolescent was being misunderstood. I didn't cut my hair short, or pierce my nose, or listen to Ani Difranco because I didn't want people to be able to write me off and put me into a box. In the same way, as I stared at my computer, excited to be in contact with an old friend. At first I liked the challenge, like a Haiku.
I gave up. I posted more than 200 characters:
"I live in Jp with my husband, Zak. I teach and I learn in equal parts. It’s been a challenging year, but I’m really blessed with a great community. I find great joy on my bike, in the woods, on my yoga mat, knitting, and in a glass of well-crafted beer…but not all at once."
I have to imagine that 140 is the max for a tweet. (I do have a twitter account but have tweeted a handful of times about 3 years ago... weirdly, I still get emails that people have started following me on twitter, many of whom are strangers. It must be very dull for them.)
Anyway, it's very difficult for me to do this sort of thing in any time. This has been a particularly challenging year, which somehow colors my experience. I started out and then took it back about 100 times. My deepest fear when I was an adolescent was being misunderstood. I didn't cut my hair short, or pierce my nose, or listen to Ani Difranco because I didn't want people to be able to write me off and put me into a box. In the same way, as I stared at my computer, excited to be in contact with an old friend. At first I liked the challenge, like a Haiku.
I gave up. I posted more than 200 characters:
"I live in Jp with my husband, Zak. I teach and I learn in equal parts. It’s been a challenging year, but I’m really blessed with a great community. I find great joy on my bike, in the woods, on my yoga mat, knitting, and in a glass of well-crafted beer…but not all at once."
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
A blog like a post it note.
It's hot here.
Sometimes unbelievably hot in our second floor apartment.
We just finished a whole month of World Cup madness that included so many wonderful house guests.
I'd like to blog again, so I thought I'd start here... listening to Girlyman, cleaning the porch for some vegetable grilling, looking forward to some new work and generally feeling kind of smushed. I'm going through another one of those periods where I'm sustained by music, wandering through old albums and revisiting old versions of myself, putting new ones on repeat like an adolescent.
Sometimes unbelievably hot in our second floor apartment.
We just finished a whole month of World Cup madness that included so many wonderful house guests.
I'd like to blog again, so I thought I'd start here... listening to Girlyman, cleaning the porch for some vegetable grilling, looking forward to some new work and generally feeling kind of smushed. I'm going through another one of those periods where I'm sustained by music, wandering through old albums and revisiting old versions of myself, putting new ones on repeat like an adolescent.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Encounters on the T
"She must have him over a barrel."
The guy had entered the subway car and thrown his jacket over the railing that holds up the hand rail near the door where I sat. He spoke to me as though continuing a conversation we'd been having already which should have clued me in, but I'm a total sucker for a fantastic opening line.
"Who does?"
"Elena Kagan...Obama! Why else would you give someone a job with no experience?!"
"She's got tons of experience, just not any experience being a supreme court justice! You can't blame her for that!"
The guy argued amicably with me for a few minutes (another red flag in this city) and I enjoyed the conversation. After a moment though:
"We've got to be very careful. You never know. You never know. They have..." (at this point he started pointing to his arm with his finger).
"They have applications. They have cloning and viruses. You never know. You have to be very careful, really see who she is! They have robots they control."
Since we'd been talking loudly, I knew that the rest of the people around me on the train all had the same realization I did at the same moment that I had it. The difference was that I liked the guy, and had a lot of practice making conversation with folks with ideas like his, so we kept talking. I have a hard-won habit of "do not confirm or deny" when it comes to ideas that don't match my reality in a serious way from the old days at Angeline's, so we gently switched topics whenever he brought up technology this way. I asked him some questions ("How do you get to be a mastermind?" and "How do you know..."
He told me about a guy in Bethel, ME who burned down all sorts of places; houses, cars, fire stations but who did it for the money and then used his money to buy himself a gas station. He told me a little bit about his wife, who had something in common with this fellow. They were both masterminds who took all the money and hoodwinked the people around them. At one point, a guy across the train said "I can't believe I'm hearing this." in a very dramatic way. When I looked across the speaker had his head in his hands. My new friend told me about people who want to get into your conversation, about how they're probably stoned or hungover from the night before. Right before his stop, the man asked me what I do, and I told him "I teach little kids." He had to get off soon and he started talking fast "Take them to the Apple Store. Show them Tips and Tricks. They need the Tips and Tricks. Teach them about each of the applications! That's what they need to know!" Then the door shut.
The guy had entered the subway car and thrown his jacket over the railing that holds up the hand rail near the door where I sat. He spoke to me as though continuing a conversation we'd been having already which should have clued me in, but I'm a total sucker for a fantastic opening line.
"Who does?"
"Elena Kagan...Obama! Why else would you give someone a job with no experience?!"
"She's got tons of experience, just not any experience being a supreme court justice! You can't blame her for that!"
The guy argued amicably with me for a few minutes (another red flag in this city) and I enjoyed the conversation. After a moment though:
"We've got to be very careful. You never know. You never know. They have..." (at this point he started pointing to his arm with his finger).
"They have applications. They have cloning and viruses. You never know. You have to be very careful, really see who she is! They have robots they control."
Since we'd been talking loudly, I knew that the rest of the people around me on the train all had the same realization I did at the same moment that I had it. The difference was that I liked the guy, and had a lot of practice making conversation with folks with ideas like his, so we kept talking. I have a hard-won habit of "do not confirm or deny" when it comes to ideas that don't match my reality in a serious way from the old days at Angeline's, so we gently switched topics whenever he brought up technology this way. I asked him some questions ("How do you get to be a mastermind?" and "How do you know..."
He told me about a guy in Bethel, ME who burned down all sorts of places; houses, cars, fire stations but who did it for the money and then used his money to buy himself a gas station. He told me a little bit about his wife, who had something in common with this fellow. They were both masterminds who took all the money and hoodwinked the people around them. At one point, a guy across the train said "I can't believe I'm hearing this." in a very dramatic way. When I looked across the speaker had his head in his hands. My new friend told me about people who want to get into your conversation, about how they're probably stoned or hungover from the night before. Right before his stop, the man asked me what I do, and I told him "I teach little kids." He had to get off soon and he started talking fast "Take them to the Apple Store. Show them Tips and Tricks. They need the Tips and Tricks. Teach them about each of the applications! That's what they need to know!" Then the door shut.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Home sweet home!
Overheard on the bus "I was just explaining sarcasm to some Iranians in a bar."
glad to be home. I am on the bus next to a nodding junkie because all blue line trains are bound for Wonderland and couldn't be happier. Thought I was headed home to an empty house but SURPRISE there'll be a Z to meet me! Perfect end to a perfect trip.
glad to be home. I am on the bus next to a nodding junkie because all blue line trains are bound for Wonderland and couldn't be happier. Thought I was headed home to an empty house but SURPRISE there'll be a Z to meet me! Perfect end to a perfect trip.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Sunday (Your Saturday!)
I tasted Marmite today, and learned some of the names that New Zealanders call their coffee.
(Marmite is a paste that tastes and looks a lot like Soy Sauce. If you want a cup of coffee, you must ask for a long black, and if you want a double latte you request a “flat white”. My friend inquired, what do you call a single latte?” and the Kiwi we brunched next to said “Thet's jest a lette.” I've been working hard on my Kiwi accent. It's a really tricky one to imitate. So the word that I like to hear New Zealanders say is “Enthusiastic”.)
I arrived yesterday morning and spent the day walking around in the sun, which I believe is why I haven't suffered much jet lag. (I'm knocking wood as I type that. It isn't too late, I hear.) I met my friend Julie at the airport and we headed to her friend's house. This morning, we met with the rest of our group, and they are a smart bunch. We haven't set foot in a school, or begun a single “formal” discussion, but at brunch, I discussed play ground structures, looping and multi-age classrooms and what it means to “do” diversity, multi-cultural or anti-biased curriculum. Whew! We've arrived at the retreat center which will be our home base for the next five days and it's lovely. The place is an old monastary and is still owned by the Anglican church, so the rooms are small but the view is beautiful and humbling. I'm looking forward to dinner and then an early morning tomorrow.
(Marmite is a paste that tastes and looks a lot like Soy Sauce. If you want a cup of coffee, you must ask for a long black, and if you want a double latte you request a “flat white”. My friend inquired, what do you call a single latte?” and the Kiwi we brunched next to said “Thet's jest a lette.” I've been working hard on my Kiwi accent. It's a really tricky one to imitate. So the word that I like to hear New Zealanders say is “Enthusiastic”.)
I arrived yesterday morning and spent the day walking around in the sun, which I believe is why I haven't suffered much jet lag. (I'm knocking wood as I type that. It isn't too late, I hear.) I met my friend Julie at the airport and we headed to her friend's house. This morning, we met with the rest of our group, and they are a smart bunch. We haven't set foot in a school, or begun a single “formal” discussion, but at brunch, I discussed play ground structures, looping and multi-age classrooms and what it means to “do” diversity, multi-cultural or anti-biased curriculum. Whew! We've arrived at the retreat center which will be our home base for the next five days and it's lovely. The place is an old monastary and is still owned by the Anglican church, so the rooms are small but the view is beautiful and humbling. I'm looking forward to dinner and then an early morning tomorrow.
Friday, February 19, 2010
speed blogging
I'm in an internet cafe on Queen's street and I only have 8 minutes left.
Why am I in a subterranean internet "cafe" (only, no food or drink ?!) hours after landing here when I could be outside trekking to a park or sitting by the harbor? Because our very brilliant plan failed. Jules and I made a fantastic plan, BUT I think she gave me her calling card number instead of her friend's number. (a perfectly ordinary error). The only problem is that I was supposed to meet up with Jules + friend by calling the friend. Whoops. So, I think I need to go BACK to the airport to meet up with J when she comes in around 5. This has been a real adventure. Auckland rocks so far. How did we live without cell phones!
Hightlights:
Instead of "Yield" signs here tell you to "Give way". They also entreat you to give bikes 1.5 m (!) instead of only three feet. The only news from the US that I've heard is about Tiger Woods' public apology.
Why am I in a subterranean internet "cafe" (only, no food or drink ?!) hours after landing here when I could be outside trekking to a park or sitting by the harbor? Because our very brilliant plan failed. Jules and I made a fantastic plan, BUT I think she gave me her calling card number instead of her friend's number. (a perfectly ordinary error). The only problem is that I was supposed to meet up with Jules + friend by calling the friend. Whoops. So, I think I need to go BACK to the airport to meet up with J when she comes in around 5. This has been a real adventure. Auckland rocks so far. How did we live without cell phones!
Hightlights:
Instead of "Yield" signs here tell you to "Give way". They also entreat you to give bikes 1.5 m (!) instead of only three feet. The only news from the US that I've heard is about Tiger Woods' public apology.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
The cosmos is also within us; we are made of star stuff.
http://www.yesmagazine.org/happiness/we-are-all-connected?utm_source=wkly20100129&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=descr_tnVideo
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Moments That Are Suddenly New Again
Part of being pregnant is discovering all sorts of new things about your body.
Part of miscarrying is rediscovering all the old things about your body and everything else. An abbreviated list of things that have made me catch my breath...
Catching my reflection in profile
Fitting into clothes I'd put away in a box last week because they didn't fit
the onesey a friend gave me in the bottom of my underwear drawer
Not needing to stop at Felipe's for a tostada after work to tide me over until dinner
A kid in my class asking me this morning "Kendra, do you have any kids at your house?" "Why not?"
Hearing about a friend's ultrasound (Not bitter! Not jealous even, just surprised to find that I'm not going to have another one.)
Taking herbs and teas I wasn't allowed to
Being offered brie and having no internal conflict (and wine and beer)
Realizing that this was my last conversation with my midwife until my next "first" conversation with her.
The closest I can come to this feeling was the feeling I had during the first two weeks of my sophomore year at college when I suddenly realized that I'd have to drop out. There's this constant sense of editing... suddenly reworking plans, dreams and assumptions. I've been practicing meditation and yoga for years now in an effort to undo my conditioning, wake up, and let go of all my plans, dreams, assumptions and habitual thoughts. I wouldn't have guessed that a miscarriage would impact my awareness so much more effectively than any think I've done on purpose! I'm grateful for all these moments when I wake up.
Part of miscarrying is rediscovering all the old things about your body and everything else. An abbreviated list of things that have made me catch my breath...
Catching my reflection in profile
Fitting into clothes I'd put away in a box last week because they didn't fit
the onesey a friend gave me in the bottom of my underwear drawer
Not needing to stop at Felipe's for a tostada after work to tide me over until dinner
A kid in my class asking me this morning "Kendra, do you have any kids at your house?" "Why not?"
Hearing about a friend's ultrasound (Not bitter! Not jealous even, just surprised to find that I'm not going to have another one.)
Taking herbs and teas I wasn't allowed to
Being offered brie and having no internal conflict (and wine and beer)
Realizing that this was my last conversation with my midwife until my next "first" conversation with her.
The closest I can come to this feeling was the feeling I had during the first two weeks of my sophomore year at college when I suddenly realized that I'd have to drop out. There's this constant sense of editing... suddenly reworking plans, dreams and assumptions. I've been practicing meditation and yoga for years now in an effort to undo my conditioning, wake up, and let go of all my plans, dreams, assumptions and habitual thoughts. I wouldn't have guessed that a miscarriage would impact my awareness so much more effectively than any think I've done on purpose! I'm grateful for all these moments when I wake up.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
The youth of my youth
Here are some blurry Iphone pictures of an all-ages show I attended yesterday. I brought a couple of pentagenarians along, so that I wasn't the oldest person in the room.
"But Kendra" you may well say. "This is not really your scene." You're right. Outside of some time at Babyhead and the Living Room as a teenager, and some fantastic Kled shows, people screaming as entertainment has not been largely my bag.
But this young man is not screaming into the microphone. He's singing! His diction is so clear, I could hear it through my ear plugs.He's also the child I cared when I was a teenager in Providence... all grown and tattooed.
Tough News
I've already posted this on Facebook, and emailed it to my nears and dears. (I'm sorry if I left you out of the loop nears and dears, it was an email error, not a statement.) But a blog is, after all, a log.
Here's the message to our friends that Z eloquently composed. http://zipl.org/toughnews.html
When we discovered I was pregnant I wrote so many blog entries in my mind... about feeling sick and about not feeling sick, about swallowing whole books on pregnancy and childbirth... about the excitement of getting to know Z as a father as well as an amazing person, and partner, a competent, clever, funny person... about the fun of having pregnant friends. About a million things. I told myself to write them, but was too disappointed about having to have a secret, too distracted by experiencing all these crazy things to sit down and write about it in any disciplined way.
It's strange that I kept this big secret for all that time, only to tell everyone right before it was all over. Very strange.
This was in every way a fantastic practice for the baby to someday come. We got to find out how our midwives are in a crisis (very supportive, compassionate and present) and how we are. (Z is everything a person could ask for.) I learned about how my body deals with pregnancy, and to a lesser extent how it is with labor. We know what a fantastic and loving community we're in. I'm grateful for all of this.
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