End of August

 My former writing group invited me back for an August Write-A-Thon. Write something every day. I'm sharing this one here:

End of August

Yesterday I saw an airplane, the kind of airplane I usually would have boarded by now to visit my parents across the country. 

Tonight I went for a walk on my street, the same neighborhood I’ve walked almost every day for the past six months. I heard crickets, the same kind of cricket sounds I usually hear by now when we meet up with my college roommate from out of state and go camping, a camping trip we promised ourselves annually as soon as I moved to the east.

Just now I had a hug, a hug I’m grateful for, from my husband, the only person allotted to giving them to me right now. 

Pesach Waste

So we made it through another wonderful Pesach. Relatively smooth transition into a chometz-free zone, visit from Savta and Saba, lovely sedarim, visits to the Crayola factory and Philipsburg Manor, tidy final chag and now just have to turn the kitchen back over tomorrow.

I'm always struck and worried by the amount of waste we generate on Pesach -- foil, water bottles, disposables in the kitchen, contact paper etc. I think we do a good job of keeping it relatively moderate, but it's still far more than any other time of year.

I read an article once about netilat yadayim (ritual hand washing) and water preservation. The article suggested that some might consider using less water for this ritual in order to prevent wasting it. However, the article suggested that the ritual is actually an opportunity to really concentrate on our appreciation of water, that we should use all the water we need for it as a way of reminding us in other matters not to waste. I wish I could find the article now to make sure I'm remembering it correctly. But alas...

So since I actually did use up several paper cups for tea throughout the week and two disposable water bottles, and lots of foil, I feel refreshed in my resolve for the rest of the year to be conscious of the amount of waste I generate and to minimize it wherever possible.

On another note, one regret I had was that I was unable to make it to a single shiur before Yom Tov. When I feel as disappointed as I do about this, it helps me find a way to correct it, so now I'm resolving to try to have at least one significant Torah learning event per month. That sounds like an awfully low bar, but it's what I'm up to right now. (I do read a couple of halakhas each morning after davening and try to read something Jewish before bed, but this is meager by comparison.) I'm starting by actually leading one part of a discussion about Ruth at a Rosh Chodesh group next week.

Shavuah tov!

Seminar

Geez I'm far behind on here. I didn't tell about ND's birthday, but part of that is I'm trying to give her more and more privacy. I haven't told about... well, anything for a bit.

My parents are in town now for Channukah. Mom and I went today to see Alan Rickman (and the other actors too of course) in Seminar. Later I may post my photos from outside, though we didn't get to see him afterwards or get his autograph. (Nope, just Jerry O'Connell's. I hope you're able to detect that I think that's cool too.) We had front row seats which was often given that we came primarily to ogle over one of my mom's very favorite actors and yes, he was very much within reach a few times.

The play, though, was about young writers trying to break into the world of writing. There was very much the tone of wanting desperately to be found, be good enough, to be big enough to be noticed, and not to lose that fame. It made me sad. This is definitely one way to view a writing career, but what a depressing one. How hard to be constantly at the mercy of the public or critics. My career, if you can call it that, is so much smaller, but like the other writers in my group, it's realistic. We all enjoy our craft, have some talent, and can always benefit from feedback that can help our work. We face a lot of rejection, but most of us have income that allows that rejection to be only emotionally trying rather than financially devastating.

That's all I can say on that tonight. I enjoyed the play. Like "Life In The Theater" that I saw last year, it juxtaposed young and old characters within the arts. Moving and funny and sad all together. And awesome to be around some famous faces.

Farms Instead

We were supposed to spend Chol Hamoed in Waltham, MA visiting my friend and her new baby born on September 11.

Alas, I've had a nasty cold.

So yesterday we went to a local garden store and its petting zoo. Today we went to Depiero's -- petting zoo, hay maze, hayride with pumpkin picking and all.

Summer Summary 2011 Addendum

At the end of July, before we headed off to Portland, ND and I had one more special trip. We spent a large chunk of a day at Philipsburg Manor. This is a really unique historic experience. The place used to be an extremely wealthy manor that produced tons of butter and flour, all the work done by slaves living nearby.

Now, it is a kind of museum in which the re-enactors are all constantly actually working the farm. They actually tend and keep the slaves' personal farm, actually run the mill and sell the flour, actually care for the animals. I spoke to the woman there who was in charge of the cows to find out her background. She said she had grown up on dairy and had a degree in history. What a great combination for her job.

We spent hours there, more than I would have expected. I'd been there before once while pregnant, but we got a lot out of it this time. Maybe coming on a weekday when it was less crowded helped. The highlights were watching the mill run, helping thresh wheat and then getting to help feed a calf and milk its mother!

We have some great pictures in this collection. Keep in mind, though, that an additional highlight for ND was having time to take pictures herself. I haven't included all of them, but some are there. She was especially proud of the deep pink close-ups of her backpack.

Summer Summary 2011 - Cancun, Haines Falls, Portland, Alaska

What a fabulous summer this has been. Unbelievable.

Things I accomplished around the house: cleaning out a few rooms (no, not as many as I thought, but more than if I had done none), finally clearing plastic flowers from flower boxes left here by previous owners, lots of time with ND etc.

Things I accomplished in writing: Had hoped to write for 40 hours, but got to about 32, not counting whatever I might squeeze in in the next few days. Sent out over a dozen pieces of writing. To date have received 2 rejections of a story and 4 poetry rejections, but accompanied with one acceptance to The Aurorean. (Fall/winter issue... maybe I'll post a link for that if it becomes available later.)

Then there are the trips.

I already wrote a plethora about Mexico. See previous posts labeled "Second Honeymoon" beginning with "We Actually Did It!"

Then there was the camping trip with emarcy with whom we've gone every year since I was pregnant with ND in 2006.

After that I had a few weeks of home to finish some things up and get ready for Portland. In Portland I visited a few friends... strange because there are fewer of them I want to see, less to talk about, etc., but I still feel so refreshed after returning to my roots.

In Portland (click on "Portland" for pics) we hit The Enchanted Forest (incidentally, I've been trying for over a decade to figure out how to write about my obsession with this place and now, as a mom, I think I finally know my hook. We also did The Oregon Zoo and Seaside. (You Jersey shore people know nothing of beach beauty. Nothing. Please forgive my arrogance on this, but it's too entirely different worlds.)

The second week of our Portland trip, ND attended Tryon Creek Day Camp.

Then... off on Alaskan cruise!!!!

Here are my parents' pics.

Here are ours.

We were together for nearly everything, except in Juneau. There my parents and ND went to a nature center at the bottom of the Mendenhall Glacier. U. and I took a helicopter ride to the top where we hiked with crampons. Probably the coolest thing I've ever done in my life.

Now we're back and I have just a few days left to scramble together doing things like unpacking and blogging about the summer. Then onto a new year with new students, new fulfillment and an occasional glance both backwards and forwards at summers.

(8/29/11) Please note I've just added an addendum with one more event at this blog post.)

Alaska trip prequel

I have just a few days left to finish up stuff before the school year. One major task is documenting our trips to Portland, OR and then Alaska cruise from this summer. (Just got back on Sunday.) Lest I forget, I'm currently posting this link from my parents to get us started.

2nd Honeymoon -- One last adventure on the way home

Friday morning we got up in time to pack up our room, have a nice cup of tea (me anyway... U. hates the smell of tea) at the hotel, and then be on our way.

It all went smoothly... arrived at the airport in plenty of time, uneventful flight back to Dallas, picked up on time etc.

Delighted to be back with ND and intrigued to see just a little bit of anxiety from her when I left the room to do some laundry, but otherwise a fairly seamless return. A perfectly predictable balance of her being impatient with me but very snuggly and eager to sit on my lap.

However, there was still one more thing to happen before our final return home.

On Sunday, in anticipation of the long flight back to Newark, U. downloaded several episodes of Caillou on his laptop. About an hour into the flight he pulled it out to set it up and immediately arose our first moment of tension throughout the entire trip.

"My computer's off. Why is it off?"

"I didn't turn it off."

"I didn't say you did."

And subsequently a few more not-so-pleasant exchanges, not our usual MO I'm glad to say. In any case, he went to turn it on to determine just what had gone wrong. It started up and he said,

"Oh now this is interesting..."

"What?" I leaned over trying to see.

"This isn't my computer."

We froze and stared at each other until ND picked up that something was wrong.

"What? What?"

"Hang on, N. We need to figure this out."

We called a flight attendant over. She said we would just have to call the airport when we landed and see if they could find ours. Immediately I started trying to calculate and determine from U. just what information we'd actually lost.

Then I thought that probably whoever had our computer wanted theirs back just as much as we wanted ours.

But where could it be? What if it was on its way to London? To China? How could it be determined? The switch must have happened in security, so it had to be someone with flights from the same area of the airport, but we'd come so early in the day. What if their flight was much earlier?

Another crew member approached, whether flight attendant or pilot I don't know. We re-explained the situation.

"Surely this can't be the first time this has happened," I said.

"Actually, it is."

He took the computer to see if he could locate some ID. About 20 minutes later we heard over the loudspeaker, "Is there a Mr. or Mrs. ________ on board."

"He figured out who it belongs to."

A moment later we saw one of the caller light buttons go off in business class. We couldn't see the face of the woman who pushed the button, but both the flight attendant and this 2nd crew member approached, spoke to her a moment, then showed her the laptop we'd handed over.

"It's here! It's here!"

They took down her bag and handed it to her. As she opened it the flight attendant made eye contact with us back in row 23 and gave a thumbs up.

We cheered as quietly and respectfully as etiquette requires on an airplane.

2nd Honeymoon - day 3

(No photos for this entry for reasons that hopefully will become clear as you read.)

Thursday

We woke up Thursday morning eager for our previously canceled trip to Puerto Moreles where we hoped to go snorkeling again. A few times we discussed whether or not to have an adventure that too closely resembled that of the previous day. We could now successfully cross snorkeling off our list and do something else, but after enjoying it so much, we wanted more. In addition, I at least felt that it would have been nice to have a more colorful location with even more varieties of wildlife in the reef.

Alas, as we finished packing up our things for the day, ready to go out into the lobby to wait for our ride, the phone rang and we were told that the sea was still just too choppy, that it had been closed to snorkeling. We were disappointed and mobilized immediately to plan our alternative. Kimberly, our travel agent, ran through some options with us. One involved taking a boat to an island, cruising around there and basically spending the whole day exploring. However, she kept throwing in the added bonuses of the trip such as free drinks on the boat, a place to eat lunch, more drinks, and we knew we just weren’t interested.

Remembering something he’d read about early on in our plans for Cancun, Uri suggested the Underwater Museum. It is a museum of sculptures in the ocean that eventually would become part of the natural reef as wildlife attached itself to them. In the meantime, we were mesmerized by the photos of figures under the water and that notion that we could be underneath the water with them with fish swimming past us like the day before.

We jumped into action, eager to make a reservation before the boat filled up and we made it just in time with just two spots left on the boat. We drove to Aqua World, confirmed our reservation and went out on the back porch to wait for our tour. There were many other tours from the same spot as well as a place to buy drinks. We saw a lot of other tourists there, mostly in bathing suits and many with tattoos. Everyone was relaxed and just hanging out on the dock waiting for their tours to leave.

We had our usual long pre-tour wait during which we wondered exactly what to expect and how even to ask questions. Eventually the tour guide, Angel, approached. He looked older than some of the tour guides we'd met previously which reassured me a little. He looked calm and willing to entertain any questions we might have, but his English wasn’t as strong. I saw a big tour boat and asked if that was what we were taking to the museum. “No,” he laughed. “We’re going in a fast boat.” Then he gave us our life vests, directed us to pick up fins and waited a bit more.

I looked around at the others in the area wondering who would be on our tour. I saw a family with young children that I knew couldn’t be coming. I also saw a blonde woman in a bikini who was flirting with some of the guides, laughing at everything she said. There were some middle-aged men and a group of teenage boys with them.

Eventually all of them, except the family, were called together with us to go onto the boat. Two young women in front of us were from Maryland and had quite a few tattoos. Later that evening when we would compare notes about the day, U. and I would both reflect on our similar reactions, that judging solely on appearances, these didn’t seem to be people who we would normally expect to visit museums.

The boat was a small one, enough to hold about a dozen tourists and about 4 guides. We buckled in and listened to the tour guides give instructions, alternating between Spanish and English. They warned that the water was a bit choppy and that the boat would be going very fast, so we shouldn’t be surprised if the boat jumped sometimes.

U. and I were sitting near the front, the guy across the aisle from us right away called for "MUSIC!" and they cranked it up as high as it would go. The boat took off, picking up speed as soon as it was able and we were speeding through the waters at about 60 or 70 MPH, if I remember correctly what the captain said. For fun the captain rocked the boat back and forth with the steering wheel. It annoyed me in theory but was actually fun and all the people behind us were cheering madly. U. joked that he thought the music was awfully loud, but saw it wasn’t really an issue because we were traveling faster than the speed of sound anyway.

It was at this point I began to wonder just a little about whether this trip was a good fit for us. I enjoyed trying to be in on the party scene for a few minutes, even though it’s not usually what I would choose, and I find myself instantly defining this lifestyle as self-destructive and in fact terrible for the environment. But I was there and that wasn’t changing, so I enjoyed it.

When we slowed down to pass through some mangroves the music was turned up even a tad louder so we could show off to the people and other tour groups on the shore. I leaned over to U. and said I understood, now , the importance of the loud music... in order to keep crocodiles away.

Through the mangroves, we raced back into much much more ocean until suddenly, in what appeared to me to be the middle of the ocean without a landmark, the captain stopped the boat. The guides handed out or goggles, attaching it to our snorkeling tours, and instructed us to proceed to the back of the boat where we would put on our fins and jump in. We were advised to hold onto the rope attached to the boat with a buoy until everyone was off the boat at which we would let go and just try to stay together. If we felt tired or anything we could signal for help and they would be able to pull us with a buoy.

All that sounded just fine. I suppose. But what we saw were waves, big waves, enormous waves that would have been very fun to ride a speed boat over, but that I could not see myself swimming in. "You've got to be kidding," we said to each other, but jumped in anyway.

Instantly I felt nauseous and searched for U. to hold hands as we had done on the previous day. We tried but could barely keep together and I kept trying to take his hand and put it onto the rope. Eventually I realized that I felt more nauseous on the rope because it was fighting the waves. So seeing that the others had let go, I let go too, trusted, and began to swim.

As challenging as it was to swim in those waters, I wanted to see the museum, so I put my head under the surface. What I discovered was that the ocean really has a completely different world beneath the water than above. It was quiet and deep, with wildlife below and a peaceful rocking sensation. I saw fish and a sea star. One of the guides dove deep to point at parts of the reef. But when I came up it was like being in a disaster movie. Bodies were bobbing around me of the other swimmers – alive bodies, but bodies that were prevented from drowning only by the life preservers. We were tiny little objects in a vast ocean.

All the time I was trying to do this while staying close to U., but he signaled a guide and said he needed to get in the boat. It was just too much. “It happens, man,” the guide said and gently took U. I didn’t know quite what the problem was, but I wanted to continue on and I knew he would want me to anyway. So a moment later I looked up, saw him on the back of the boat getting his breath, and then continued on feeling alone and not quite as brave.

Again and again I tried to enjoy the sea, looking beneath the water, then checking to make sure the group was still nearby. But I began to feel afraid too. The waves seemed to be getting stronger and stronger, especially if the boat needed to come close enough to pick up U. and, as I would later discover, several of the others as well. I ducked beneath the water and found myself remembering movies in which people had died beneath the water, how peaceful it looked, yet knowing that at least I didn’t have to worry about dying. Then I popped up and saw another wave coming my way and thinking, “Oh know, I can’t take another one.” That reminded me of giving birth to ND so many years ago, and how my contractions had come in an odd pattern of strong and then weak waves, one after another. I remembered saying, “I can’t handle another one,” and the doula saying, “No, remember, the second one is just an aftershock.” Having that memory made me say to myself, “OK, if I’m remembering that, I may very well be at my limit.”

Still, there were others in the water and I wanted to see the museum. So at last I ducked under and saw what must have been one of the statues I’d seen online. I hadn’t been entirely sure what it was when I'd seen the photo… a large group of people standing around as though in a train station. In real life, I saw for sure that there were many figures, but they were pretty far beneath me, maybe about 15-20 feet below, and they were so covered in seaweed, I couldn’t make them out. I popped up, saw others bobbing around me still, then went under again. There I saw another sculpture, again a series of many figures, and again that was all I could make out.

By now I’d had enough.

I thought I’d been close to a guide all along, but when I said, “I feel sick,” the person closest to me took out her breathing tube and turned out to be one of the American women on the tour with us. She said, “If you stay under more you might not feel it as much.” I gave it a little try, but had definitely had it. I popped up again and this time waved my arm. Right away a guide was by my side and I just barely was able to say now, “I don’t feel good.” At other times during the trip I had tried Spanish wherever possible, but not this time. He handed me a buoy and pulled me with a rope towards the boat where the captain threw out another one for me to grab and dragged me in. He pulled me up onto the boat where I discovered I was completely spent. He gave me a bag in case I needed to throw up, and I gathered my strength to come up to the front of the boat with U. He was sitting as motionless as possible with his head resting on the bar in front of him, moaning now and then as the boat rocked. I joined him, feeling almost as bad as he seemed to, but a little more alert. I gradually realized that others had come back in as well, that more were coming in behind me, and then the captain called out in Spanish, “Charlie, bring them all in!” signaling with his arms.

I have no idea how long we were in the water. It was supposed to be about 45 minutes, but I don’t think I lasted more than 15 or 20. It seemed that the guides were surprised themselves of just how bad it was out there. After all, many of the ports had been closed that day. Once everyone was on board they blasted the music again, but this time I asked them to keep it down. Of the guides, one in particular was keeping an eye on us and was happy to turn it down. The guy on the aisle across from us looked disappointed, but as I think about it, I'm not sure he ever got in the water at all and so naturally was feeling the best of any of us. Later when we came through the mangroves again he yelled out “Music!” again and this time they cranked it up high.

By then I, at least, was feeling better. U. didn’t look so good. But when the guide came to ask me just what was wrong… was I hurting? Did I need to throw up? All I could think to say was, “I just want to go to sleep.” Later U. would say the same had been true for him, that he hadn’t had enough to sleep anyway, and then the sheer exertion of fighting the water had did him in. The guide also suggested I had perhaps swallowed too much salt water. I'm sure he was absolutely right on that.

The captain brought us back quickly, but obliged the thrill seekers on our boat with a few even heavier turns back and forth on the steering wheel so that we splashed down hard, close to the water and even spun the boat around a few times. I was worried about U. but he didn’t complain about it, and at the same time I kind of enjoyed the excitement, if only I could rest soon.

When we finally came in to port they brought out the tip jar that one refered to as “the happy box.” I had no issues with anyone on that boat, they’d gotten is out and back in again safely, but I couldn’t help but laugh.

Once on land I took charge, getting our bag from the car, buying a soda for U. and getting us back to our hotel. Once there, we napped a glorious nap, swam in the hotel pool, cooked up dinner of green beans, baked beans and cheese stirred together in a pan on the hotel stove, went out for a beer, packed our bags, watched Frasier, then crashed hard for the night.

Reading this now, I don't know for sure how much danger we were really in. I'm glad it's over and I never want to do it again, but there's a way in which I'm excited to have had so intense of an experience.

Ice Skating

Took ND ice skating for the first time tonight. She helped create a metaphor that is a good reminder for me. Every time she worked really hard at moving forward, she ended up flailing around and falling down. When she relaxed and trusted me, the skates and the ice to take her, she moved rather well.

I love learning to try less hard and just let good things emerge.

Sir Patrick

What an amazing day!

Started the day with a play date that ND has asked for for ages.

Then at 1 I headed into the city alone for an extra special adventure. I went to see the second Broadway anything that I've ever seen, Life In The Theater. It's a Mamet play about two actors in the theater, one old and one young. As you see if you click on the link, the older actor starts as a mentor and then eventually becomes unhelpful and loses his skills as the younger starts to make a place for himself in the theater.

I didn't go because of Mamet. I went because it starred Patrick Stewart(sigh).

The play was fantastic. It was funny in parts. It was heartbreakingly sad too. And knowing that Patrick Stewart is now 70, I wondered and worried if this meant this is one of his last productions. There were a few moments when Sir Patrick was alone on stage and I just lost myself listening to him speak.

It was a closing night (day) performance, so the end was extra special. After the applause and bowing, Stewart and T. R. Knight (yeah, he's famous too, but he's not why I came) went out on stage and said they always get the applause, but they wanted to introduce everyone else worked on the production too to give them the recognition they deserved. They brought everyone out and Knight named each one of them including props people, dressers etc. The dressers got extra special applause because the play was filled with lightning fast and thorough costume changes as the actors pretended to act in all different plays. (Someone please help me out by identifying what the different plays were supposed to be. I'm sure there were in-jokes that I missed.)

Watching the two actors speaking for themselves so sincerely about being sad to end the production was so touching. Sir Patrick began to say one last thing, then became silently, and handed it over to Knight instead. He must have been too choked up. Oh! So beautiful!

I left the theater satisfied and thrilled to have given myself this treat, and glad that U. was perfectly happy to hang out with ND since he's never loved theater much and we didn't want to pay for a sitter. As I walked out, I started to soak in NY including the bicycle taxis waiting right outside.

Then I paid more attention when I suddenly realized I was about to walk around a barricade that hadn't been there before. I put the pieces together to realize that people were standing behind them to wait for the actors to come out.

I didn't have to think twice. No stress over getting back to get work down. No worry about it getting dark. No rush. I waited a full hour.

Spent the hour listening to theater lovers and a few trekkies one-upping all their star encounters. I waited and waited. It paid off.

I got both their autographs. The clip below of Sir Patrick includes a woman talking to him about... I'm not sure what. She's trying to endear herself to him by talking about England, I think. He's just got his mind on going home. It's my voice you hear thanking for the autograph. And when he looked up, he looked me right in the eye.

I wasn't the only person crying after such a ridiculous brush with fame. It was so sweet.

I stuck around to watch him get into his limo and I felt sad when I thought he looked very tired. It took me an hour to get home between walking the long blocks to my car and getting out of several traffic jams. The whole way I imagined what it must be like to be surrounded by people who think they know and love you and wondering who really goes home to.

When I got home I was so happy to see my own ND, felt lucky that that is my life.

Stephens Farm

This is my second year as a member of a CSA through Hazon and Stephens Farm. CSA stands for Consumer-Supported Agriculture. In this case, this means that a group of people have bought share and half-shares into a year's harvest from a local organic farm. Every week from about June until October or November Farmer Ted drives all the way to us to deliver the vegetables. The result is that each week ND and I then go to the JCC and pick up a bag with our name on it that already contains freshly harvested produce. Sometimes if we don't want a particular vegetable we can trade from a trading crate, and all leftovers are donated to a food bank.

Yesterday we went out to see the farm. This was my first trip out there. It was a long drive, almost an hour and a half, and when we were there my allergies flared so badly that I had difficulty breathing and today am taking it very slow and easy as my poor lungs recover. However, it was so worth it. I was quite moved by the experience. The farm is on an enormous piece of land, much larger than I realized, and the family that's working the space works so hard to maintain it.

Steve, the Rabbi who has been organizing all of this, has developed a really beautiful relationship with the family and brought a sukkah for us to sit in during part of our trip. First we walked around a little, getting a small tour of the place with Annemarie. Then we helped pick some squash for this week's harvest. After that we returned to the sukkah and did leaf rubbings, then ate lunch and chatted a little with the family. Steve shared some words of Torah and Ted and Annemarie talked about how hard it is to maintain the farm in an age when our acquisition of food is not so very organic or local.

When we were done talking, Steve said Birkat Hamazon aloud in English. I was deeply moved to hear his words thanking G-d for the harvest, and sitting across from the very people who worked so hard, often at financial risk to themselves, to get the food to us. They don't have an easy life. We do.

I'm really glad we've chosen to do this CSA. It hasn't always given us all the vegetables we want in a given week, and sometimes blight and other real-life problems have hurt the quality of the food. But we're helping a family with their livelihood and, in return, we've been brought closer to the land ourselves.

Summer Summary

This is it.

The rains are here. School starts on Thursday for me. Summer is over.

In June I posted about my annual worries and goals, and now I want to write about them.

1. I said I wanted to write. I wrote. Not as much as I would liked, but:

-I logged 26 hours of daytime writing work. This included the incredible workshop I posted about previously.

-I've also begun doing just a little more reading and writing every night before bed, so that's even more important.

-I submitted work to 4 places (I think... maybe more).

-I printed out a lot of my work into binders making it easier for me to look at where I've come from and where I'm going writing-wise.

2. I wrote about spending real time with ND. We did it. Some afternoons together were too long, but we went on outings to Abma's Farm, Van Saun Park, The Children's Museum, swimming lessons and a lot more. There were also our special trips to MA, Chautauqua and camping. I've relearned yet again that focused time is harder to do but more fruitful than multitasking.

3. I've rooted myself some more... spending time with friends, exercising, becoming comfortable here even after some rebellious weeks when I wanted to move NOW. Trying to appreciate what HERE has to offer instead of wondering so much about THERE. I want to stay informed, visit other places as possible, but there are no immediate plans to change or move.

4. Lots of work on and around the house, yearly shopping etc. too.

I'm anxious about the new year, never sure what it's going to bring. Sad to give up my days and to have so much work ahead. But I'm always open to a challenge. I hope this is a good year for me. I hope it is for ND too. I hope it is for us all as a family.

Shanah tovah.

Chautauqua

We just returned last night from a fabulous vacation.

This summer my in-laws are renting a house for a few weeks in Chautauqua. My parents flew out and drove all day with us there where we found new ways to get along with all of us living side by side for a few week. Chautauqua is this really amazing institution whose 4 pillars are named as art, education, religion and recreation. We got a little of all those as I'll share out of order...

Recreation:

-Well, we had some of that even before we arrived. It was such a long drive we researched ahead of time for a stop-off and found it in a blueberry farm. It was well off the road, so far off our phones stopped working, but it was absolutely beautiful, and we picked about a pound and a half of blueberries to share with everyone.



-Chautauqua has a gorgeous lake. I never managed to go swimming. I did take ND into the water a few times though. And I definitely got to boat. I went in a row boat, two paddle boats and a kayak.


-I played shuffleboard, but not lawn bowling (which would have enjoyed).

-I went biking with my dad for the first time in years... we used an "off-campus" book store as our destination/excuse to go. There and back was about 45 minutes. It wasn't a great bike, which is what I say to console myself around the fact that I can't remember what it feels like to bike all day the way I used to with him.

Religion:

-Mostly Christian -- very utopian -- but there was a Chabad which was very nice for Shabbat.

Education:

-Lectures every single day on the week's theme which was photography. I only attended one which wasn't really about photography... too much of a stretch. It was Billy Collins speaking, supposedly about photographic images in poetry. Boy, was I excited to go to that. Boy, was he funny (as in tears running down my face funny). Boy, was he also arrogant! So many of his poems were ways of trashing bad poets, non-poets, previous poets. The question and answer period included a question about poets he admires and included a reference to Emily Dickinson. All he could say about her was that he was impressed she was able to write so many poems according to a meter. He had nothing else helpful to say about anyone else, other than his mother. I guess we can give him credit for that.

-But best of all this is the education piece that leads into art...

Art:

-I signed up ahead of time for a poetry writing workshop every day with David Baker. (10 hours total.) I opted to audit the class, knowing it was less expensive, not knowing it meant I would not be allowed to speak for the duration of each class! At first I was a little heartbroken, but quickly found how much I could learn from being forced to only listen. Sponges don't spend their time waiting to say something clever the way I'm normally inclined to do.

-Fortunately, I was able to sign up for a one-on-one conference. It was, for lack of a more poetic phrase right now, AWESOME! I loaned him a copy of Gathering Pieces ahead of time. (If you haven't bought it yet, you still can!) I flagged a few poems, not wanting to overburden him with too much, but he read the WHOLE THING. We began our meeting together with his saying, "So, you have a voice," in reference to my being unable to contribute during the class.

We talked about the class, including discussing the range of talent in the room. (This made me think he knew I was a good judge of good poetry.) Then I gave him my background -- that this was my first class since majoring in creative writing at Oberlin, class of '98, that I hadn't written (or really read) any poetry before I was forced to there. (To this he was blessedly shocked.) He said my writing was clear (something that he was pushing the writers in the workshop to be), and he recognized the urgency I feel in telling the stories that I do. He also said the authenticity is sometimes "ramped up too high." We talked about that at length, visiting a couple of poems in the book. I'm glad to say his favorites are mine too and we worked on fine-tuning them a little, talked about how the next step in my writing would be to work more with form.

I explained that I self-published this book in order to put closure to my old work and move forward as a writer. I asked if I should be embarrassed about that. He said no, that if this book needed to be assembled then, then that's what it needed.

Then I showed him the piece I've been working on this week for the class, and he said he could already see how much I'd learned through the duration of the week.

It has been such a long time since I've felt validated by an established writer. So long. I have a few friends who love my work, but they are friends, so where does the kindness of friendship end and the true critique begin? And I have many friends who have never even asked to see my work. (David says I shouldn't take this personally... that it's about an unfamiliarity with poetry, not about me.)

So who can my audience be now? The mysterious other authentic writers out there? We talked about my future... going to open mic nights, even if I'm not reading. We talked about how he too has little time to write during the school year and sometimes chooses to put family first. I told him I've been writing a small journal entry each night but doing so with line breaks. He liked that. He said that maybe some poems (like the in progress one I showed him) are being written even before we sit down to work at them. And for that one he's right, that I've been toying with the idea for months, jotting a thought or two and then just thinking about it now and then. He said he writes whole lines in his head.

He liked the idea I shared with him about my children's book about time...

all this in half an hour.

-I haven't even written here about how there was a concert every night for free and that I got to hear parts of some of them. I didn't mention going to a full-bill opera of Cavalleria Rusticana and Pagliacci, my favorite opera. Between the two operas, 2 betrayals and 3 stabbing deaths in one night.

-I didn't write about the day we went off-campus to an amusement park where ND amazed us with how gutsy she was, riding fast rides all on her own. (This picture is actually not of a fast ride, but of a boat she could control herself.)

-I didn't write about painting with my mom.

-I didn't write about watching ND interact with her grandparentsor how her vocabulary has expanded to include the words "actually" "eventually" and "realize".




It was a great week...

Bear Mountain

A great day. ND and I visited old college friend and her two girls up in Cold Spring, NY. We left there at 2 so she could get some work done and, despite a rainstorm, decided to check out Bear Mountain State Park. 

I can't believe we never came here before. Next time relatives visit and we have time for a whole day outing, this is the place to go instead of Manhattan. Hiking trails, boat rental, swimming pool, carousel, zoo and all of it surprisingly quiet! (It's quieter than our neighbors of late who seem to always be talking or playing radios in the yard when I'd like to just relax.)

I'm totally exhausted, but ND and I got a lot out of today. Besides picnic and running in a sprinkler in the morning with the friends, we got to rent a paddle boat and see the animals in the zoo at Bear Mountain. I just wish I'd had a stroller. We were both exhausted and, as a result, I carried ND a lot of the way on my back. As you can imagine, I'm about to collapse. 

A Near Perfect Busy Sunday

Started the day with a meeting at shul at 9:30 sharp. ND and I went there on the bike. The meeting was over in an hour which meant the fun could begin and we weren't still dawdling at home.

 - Bike to a Farmer's Market. Not much there, but we did get some of the best strawberries ever.

 - Bike to grocery store and fill the bike with groceries for Shavuot until we couldn't get another thing in.

 - Stopped at a garage sale where we FINALLY bought an outdoor table with 4 chairs for only $35. (Obviously I couldn't carry it on the bike. Came back shortly with the Yaris... two trips in fact, one for table and one for chairs.)

 - Went to Nature Day at Flat Rock Brook. I definitely prefer our quiet walks together there. But even the crowd wasn't bad when we got a canoe ride, an animal show with a porcupine, wallaby and chinchilla, the chance to pet a corn snake and to eat Ben & Jerry's. I was pleased to see that ND was not so interested in visiting all the booths. The main thing she wanted was to poke a stick into the pond and look for frogs. 

 - Back home to have dinner outside on our new table.

 - Put ND happily to bed with a story about her getting to turn into a frog and go exploring and eating bugs with them.

 - Now off to bed myself, I hope.

Mother's Day Continued

1. A handmade present... a message-size clipboard from ND.

2. Out to a brunch buffet, or rather, lupper, at 1 in the afternoon.

3. A walk together at the Teaneck Creek Conservancy which unexpectedly included a new art installation.

Chol Hamoed Highlights

Central Park on Thursday:

Van Saun Park on Friday:

Closter Golf Course on Sunday:

(U. who doesn't like his picture taken, took this for us:)

Oh yeah, and I won the golf game.

Texas 2010

Thanks to my dad I don't have to work quite so hard at posting all my pictures. This link has an even better version of this video along with some others and some great pictures.

Click on this photo below to see both the first and second parts of our trip... Dallas and Wimberly:

On The Return

Yesterday morning when ND woke up, Meemau sang her this song, a song that's been passed down through the generations in her family:

Good morning, Merry Sunshine.

Why did you wake so soon?

You frightened all the stars away

and scared away the moon.

She said to ND, are you a merry sunshine, to which ND said,

"I'm not a sunshine. The sunshine is a circle and I'm not a circle."

So began our last day away. Final days with family are so hard... there's no good way to spend the time. We sat around for a conversation about how miserable it is to fly because of security, and no more pillows on planes etc. I chose not to join in because I hate conversations that are just about complaining. I am perfectly happy to deal with security as it is intended to help with... well, security. Also, I'm far more worried about a number of other more worrisome things in the world that I'm not going to list here for fear of depressing myself. A final reason, honestly, is I think that I could probably get the prize for hard time flying but don't feel the need to claim it.

But in the interest of telling the story of last night I'll mention that I think every year when I return home from Austin I have to fly through Dallas and that almost always, there is a storm. This was true when I was pregnant and so thirsty and nauseous the stranger next to me had to help me. This was true when I had an infant in arms and had to run from one flight to the next, arriving home in a different airport that I had intended. 

This was true last night when our 3:15 boarding time was pushed repeatedly and the flight TO Dallas did not actually get into the air until about 7:30 PM. This was true last night when we were given a choice to de-plane in Austin and I couldn't decide whether it was better to do so and risk not getting back into the air at all or to be stuck in Dallas waiting for a 6 AM flight the next morning that AA wanted to send me on. This was true when we did finally arrive in Dallas and were not able to get off the plane until 9 PM. This was true when the crew for the next flight was also delayed.

Almost all's well that almost ends well as we were able to get on another plane within half an hour of arriving in Dallas and landed in NY at 2:something AM. My suitcase and ND's car seat sadly did not arrive yet, but the airline loaned us a carseat. My noble spouse was happy to pick us up and we all got to bed around 4. ND is sleeping now and I'm enjoying taking the day slow and waiting for our baggage to arrive.

ND was a positively incredible trooper. She played and we talked nicely through all of it. I snapped at her once or twice when she wanted to do things her way at a time when I was tense or needing to hear instructions, and as the evening wore on, I had to remind her of things more and more often. Lately her response when I get stern with her is always, "I'm LISTening!" To that I say, "Yes, you're listening, but that doesn't matter if you don't do what I say, and I had to say it one-two-three times." But when things didn't go right, like losing a crayon or dropping a pretzel she calmly said again and again, "That's OK."

When we were finally on planes, she said she wanted to get off, poor thing, but she cuddled up to me and went to sleep on both flights.

In any case, I'm back now and wondering how I can continue to slow things down for myself as school starts up again. I have a busy weekend with so many Tu B'shvat things. I've been stressing disproportionately about a Green Kiddush we're organizing for the shul and I'm wondering if I really need to have as active a lifestyle as I have lately. I'm trying to change the world, but maybe I'd be better off just having more time to clean my house and write and be with ND.