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.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
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!)
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