My New Obsession

Meet my new obsession. I'm not sure what to call him yet. I'm leaning towards Jonsi, after the lead singer/guitarist for Sigur Ros. Mostly because he makes beautiful sounds that make me happy. Well...both of them do.

This past year I decided that I want to learn an instrument. I learned the saxophone when I was in grade school but I hated it. I tried the piano at 12 but when I realized I wasn't going to be the next Chopin, I gave up. Neither instrument was practiced enough. This time I knew I wanted to take my time and learn to play slowly, by practicing consistently. The guitar seemed perfect. My father has played guitar the entire time I've been alive. He started taking lessons shortly before I was born when he was 33. Now at 37 I've decided it's my turn.

When Jeff and I came home from St. Louis after Thanksgiving, I went over and my dad taught me the very basics. I learned how to hold the instrument, how to strum with the pick, how to read TAB, and three basic chords. He sent me home with a lovely guitar, an instruction book, an electronic tuner, and some picks. He also sent me home with the directive to practice. And I've been taking him seriously.

I play every night. At first I could only practice for about ten minutes before my fingers hurt so much I had to stop. I'm learning with nylon strings thankfully (Thanks Dad!) but it still hurt for the first week or so. This week I can play for 40 minutes or more a night. I've developed the calluses I need on my fingers. I'm learning my chords. I'm taking my time with this. And I'm practicing hard and I'm not getting frustrated. Suddenly I'm looking at my favorite songs and wondering what key they are in. I'm excited to practice, even if it's just playing with some finger picking.

But the big thing for me is that I'm learning. I didn't think I could learn an instrument. I had told myself that I just wasn't musically inclined. It feels good to have the discipline to practice everyday and the ability to learn. My chord transitions are smoother today than they were two days ago. I feel good to be taking my time. It may take me years to learn the guitar but I'm okay with the slow pace. It feels good to learn and to try.

A Long Two Weeks

These last two weeks have been some of the longest of my life. I didn't think it was possible for time to go so slowly. If I needed proof that time is relative, this was it. When I last updated the blog, my father was being transported by ambulance up to the Mayo Clinic. I had spent most of the day before with him at the hospital and had gone to see him that day (Tuesday) over lunch. He was taken that afternoon up north.

That evening, at 9, my mother called to say that my father's surgery was planned to be the next day. She was heading up to Rochester and she asked if I wanted to go. I wasn't about to let my mother go up alone, particularly not at that hour. So I quickly emailed my boss to say that I wouldn't be in the rest of the week and headed north, riding with my mother. When we got halfway up, my father called to say that now the surgery would be on Friday. But we were far enough along that we continued on. And it's a good thing we did.

On Wednesday we saw my father early in the morning. And things seemed fine. Until they didn't. My father complained of problems focusing his eyes, double vision, and that's when I noticed that he was slurring his speech. He was having a small stroke right in front of us. With this new complication, the surgeons rushed the schedule and managed to get him in on Thursday. I've never known a longer afternoon. They took him in for prep at 3 and we didn't hear anything until 10. I didn't know seven hours could go so slow.

Hospital time is slow time. For us waiting, for my father waiting to get surgery, for my father recovering from surgery. He is supposed to be heading home today after a slow but successful recovery. He said that the pain was less with this one, versus his initial 24 years ago. I just can't be more grateful that he had his fainting spell which allowed us to go into the ER that night. I can't be more grateful that the surgeons moved us up in their schedule. I can't be more grateful to the nursing staff at both hospitals that took such fantastic care of him. And I can't be more grateful that his heart restarted on the operating table. It's been a long two weeks, but for the moment I see a happy ending. But it's a reminder to me that life is precious. And even slow minutes are precious minutes.

Transit

I had dinner with my parents on Tuesday at Macaroni Grill. As we sat at the table eating pasta, my dad kept leaning up to glance out the window. I noticed him doing it but it took me a couple times before I finally ask. He said he was checking to see how sunny it was. Dad's an amatuer astronomer and what I didn't know is that the Transit of Venus over the sun was taking place right during dinner. My dad had thought ahead and brought a solar filter.

When he finally noticed the clouds pass, he got up from the table, grabbed his binoculars and solar filter, and headed outside. Within a couple minutes he was back, beaming. After that, we each took a turn taking the filter and the binoculars out to look at the small dark ball passing in front of the sun. With the binoculars I could clearly see Venus and was able to pick up a decent sized sun spot as well. We just had to position the filter at the end of the binoculars and then locate the sun in the binoculars. We could look all we wanted without harming our eyes. It was partly cloudy so we had to time our visits just right. But we each got to see it. The last transit was eight years ago. The next one won't be for 105. I'm just glad Dad gave me the chance to both see and appreciate this rare event.

A NASA composite image of the transit. Love the solar flares below.

Poetry Friday

It was my father's birthday yesterday. My father is the one who introduced me to poetry in general and specific poets in particular. I've learned to love the poetric rhymes and phrasings because of him. So this poetry friday is for my dad. It's from one of the new poets he has just recently introduced me to. This poem made both of us laugh until we cried. You can either read the poem here or watch Billy Collins read it here. (sorry about the advertisment.)

The Lanyard
by Billy Collins

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly--
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that's what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and her is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift--not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

Birthdays

It's birthday month for me. Over the course of five weeks I have five family birthdays. My little brother had his at the beginning of February and although I couldn't be with him (he lives in St. Louis) I called him and thought of him. It's odd to think that my little brother is now over 30 and is getting married sometime in the next year or so. I still remember him as a little boy in shorts.

My little sister is next. We celebrated her birthday last week by meeting at my parents house to open gifts and then headed over to one of her favorite restaurants in town. If I haven't mentioned it I adore my little sister. And impressed with her. She's working two jobs and going to school right now so I don't get to see her as often as I would like but we try to make every moment together great. She's one of my favorite people to talk with and I'm constantly learning new things from her. She balances me out.

Dad and Mom

Today is my father's birthday and we celebrated with dinner at one of his favorite Indian restaurants and some quiet times talking back at his house. He even made brownies for his birthday. My dad is awesome. I'm constantly in awe of him. He's incredibly smart and his excitement for things is a bit contagious. Like me, he picks up hobbies and dives full force into them for a while. Actually he and I are very similar in temperment and interests and get along well.

My nephew is the next birthday. He's young enough that no one will mind if I say that he'll be turning 11 this year. He's my brother's middle child and is definitely the most active of the three kids. He's constantly on the go. When he's not playing sports, he's drawing or designing stop motion movies with lego characters. He doesn't live in Des Moines so I don't get to see him as often as I'd like but he's a pretty great kid.

My mother's birthday is next week to round out the month. If I was to use one word to describe my mother it would be generous. My mom is constantly thinking about others. Having just come from her house, I'm covered in fur from the animals she keeps taking in. She constantly wants to make sure that Jeff and I don't need anything. So I hope that when we celebrate her birthday next week that I'll be able to find something special for her.

I know I rarely talk about my family and I'm not sure why that is. I get along great with everyone in my family and love the time we get to spend together. Family dinners are something that I look forward to all week. So this is my attempt to at least mention more about my family. They mean so much to me that it's time they entered the blog. At least until they tell me to stop writing about them.

Happy Father's Day - Better Late Than Never

This weekend flew by even with an extra day. I took Friday off (my last furlough day, Woohoo!!!) and Jeff and I headed out of town to hang out with some friends and play dodgeball. Every year (here is my write-up from last year) our friends Lon and Lisa host a dodgeball weekend over Father's Day. The boys get together and play while the girls sit around, talk, and laugh at the boys. Then we all eat tons of food and play video games. Yeah so it pretty much rocks!!! Thanks guys! We had a fantastic weekend filled with video games, anime, and friends. We actually stumbled into an anime convention at the hotel we happened to be staying at which just made the weekend that much more awesome. People in costumes everywhere. It made me want to do a convention again. Maybe Dragon Con with my brother and father this year. Hmmm.

I'll talk more about trench (and possibly post incriminating pictures) tomorrow. Today I have to do something overdue. I have to talk about my Dad. One of the hard parts about having this party every year is that I always miss Father's Day since we are out of town. My dad is always really cool about it. We went out to dinner with him last Wednesday but I wanted to do something else to honor him. I am blessed with having two amazing parents (and two great parent-in-laws as well). My parents taught us kids to be honest and hard-working and considerate. Both were the first in their families to go to college, and they passed on the value of education to me. My dad brought himself up from his steel worker roots, to go to college, then medical school. He's worked for the same hospital for the last 30 something years and has never missed a day due to weather. He's worked hard to get where he is, even though I tease him now about his semi-retired schedule.

My father on vacation in Turks and Caicos

But my dad's work ethic isn't my favorite thing about him. When I was growing up my dad was always reading or playing guitar or gardening or fishing.... He has more hobbies than I can count and in many ways I've grown up a lot like him. I owe him my love of learning new things. My mother is the one who instilled reading in me but it was my dad's constant interest in things that pushed me to pick up new hobbies. He and I are very similar in that way. We become fascinated with something, learn as much as we can about it, and then move on to something else.

My father was never shy about asking questions. He can instantly set people at ease with his easy-going nature. He's the kind of person who can talk with anyone and constantly has a joke for every situation (something I wish I'd inherited). I've developed my love of food and trying new foods from him. He's blessed me with a love of the outdoors and science. His fearlessness when trying things is something I'm still trying to learn myself. But I've been blessed with a great role model. Always smiling, always happy, always learning, always interested, his outlook on life is incredibly positive and I'm constantly striving to be more like him. So this is just to say I love you Dad and you inspire me.

My father, my little sister, and I after a wonderful day of scuba diving in Bull Shoals, Arkansas

Bring Out Your Dead!

Growing up as the daughter of a pathologist has its benefits. I'm far more familiar with some of the medical terminology than I would have been otherwise. Most of us kids have a much stronger stomach than most of the people we know since dinner conversations often started around what Dad had cut up that day. Take your children to work day was a lot more fun (What's that Dad? Oh that's an appendix. Cool!!!). And one of the biggest benefits is that most of us kids have picked up my father's occasionally morbid sense of humor. I love dark humor and a good death joke.

So Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers was right up my alley. Mary Roach's brilliant book is both informative and entertaining. The book is about death and what can happen to our bodies after death. As Mary is quick to point out, this is not a book about dying. There is nothing funny or interesting about dying. This is about what happens to those bodies that get donated to science. Or what could happen. The most common usage for cadavers is of course the Gross Anatomy labs. I remember listening to my brother talk about his time spent with his body. Mary talks about the respect and dignity that is most often showed to these bodies. But it is not the only place that a cadaver can end up.

The book discusses how some cadavers are used for plastic surgery practice, how some can be used to study forensic science (most notably the University of Tennessee's Body Farm), and some are used as crash test dummies. Mary discusses a new group that are attempting to get people to compost their bodies after death. She talks about the standard embalming practices, cremation, and even a new practice that would liquefy bodies. She talks with respect about beating-heart donors, whose organs to on to save multiple lives at a time. This of course is alongside a chapter on the uses of human body parts as medicine in olden days. The book mixes current practices with the history of cadaver usage. She even discusses the areas where bodies could be used but most often are not, like munitions research. That chapter was very hard for me since most of those jobs sadly fall to living animals.

In fact it was interesting that by the time I finished this book, even knowing all the places that my body could end up, I was ready to donate my remains to science. I've long been an organ donor but this just showed me all the wonderful ways in which a body can be useful after death. The book was fascinating and oftentimes funny. The historical perspective gave me a glimpse at how cadavers have provided some of the greatest advances in medicine and safety. A wonderful read and I'm looking forward to picking up Mary's other books, Spook (about science and the afterlife) and Bonk (about the mixing of science and sex). A little less morbid but I'm sure just as interesting.

Distance

Sometimes distance sucks.

It's really hard to be far away and be helpless. Last night Jeff got a call that his dad had collapsed and had been taken to the hospital. They think it was just his blood pressure but he was kept overnight for observation. I'm optimistic but still worried for him. And mostly I feel helpless. I so want to help, want to do at least something. But with six hours distance there was little we could do last night. And I think that really bothered Jeff.

When Jeff came up here to go to college, he left all his family down in St. Louis. After graduation he stayed up here and met me. As much as he hates to admit it, he's been an Iowan now almost longer than he was a Missorian. We get down to see family about two or three times a year but it never really feels like enough. Most of the times it is only for the weekend and those two or three days are often a whirlwind.

So today I'm worried. Jeff has said he'll call me when he finds something out and I know he's anxious to hear. But waiting by the phone is not quite as comforting as waiting by a loved ones side. We had discussed going down in two weeks but now we might push that up. Sometimes the only way to make a true connection is face to face. Until then our thoughts and prayers have to make the six hour journey down south. Get well soon, Dad.

Love Songs and Poems

I developed my love of picture books from my mother, who would sit for hours with all five of us curled around her. I still remember snuggling up to her on the living room couch while she would read the stories until she fell asleep. And we always woke her, prodded her on with the next sentence. Exhausted and sleep-deprived as she was, she always continued reading. I love her for that.

So I loved picture books because of my mother but I loved poetry because of my father. Dad was always reading bits of poetry out to us. As I've mentioned before The Raven was a favorite. The Jabberwacky for humor or the wonderful Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert Service (which most of us kids can quote, at least the start). He read us The Twins although the author always escapes me about a case of mistaken identity. And one of the other ones he would throw out often was this line. "Let us go then, you and I. When evening is spread out against the sky, like a patient etherized upon a table." With him as a doctor it made sense to us but it would take me years before I was brave enough to tackle T.S. Eliot's greatest poem. "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock".

I knew the first lines by heart and by the age of 12 I could recite the entire first stanza. This was still before reading the poem in full. Nowdays I can't think the words "let's go" without that poem popping to mind. Jeff has even started quoting the first couple lines even though he's never read the full poem. So for this Poetry Friday and for my father, I present a part of the poem in all its middle-aged, indecisive, awkwardness. It's a poem that I learned to recite before I learned to love it. It's long, I'll warn you, so I won't post the whole thing here. You can read it in full here. And I recommend, if you haven't read it, to try it. You be surprised by how many references from this you have heard before. (measured out my life in coffee spoons, Do I dare to eat a peach)

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair--
(They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!")
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin--
(They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!")
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

Where's Waldo for Adults

I'm sorry I didn't get any posting done over the weekend. While I normally don't post both days I do try to get at least something out. My in-laws were in town this weekend so I didn't really have much time to just sit and compose. Instead I introduced Jeff's parents to the Wii and they became hooked. We spent most of the weekend bowling, playing Wii baseball, or cruising around the track playing MarioKart. It was a ton of fun. I also ate way too much and slept way too little. I'm looking forward to a weekend where I don't have to set an alarm. :-)

Then yesterday was my father's birthday. We ended up at one of my favorite Indian restaurants and I got a very tasty goat curry. Mmmm. Then back to my parent's house to make a fire, drink coffee, and play Trivial Pursuit. All and all a very nice afternoon.

So by now you're wondering about the title. Where's the "Where's Waldo" part of the post? You're wondering why anyone would care about my in-laws visit and father birthday. Well you wouldn't but you may be interested in the game we bought this week. While we were visiting friends in Minneapolis, they introduced us to this toy. And we had to go buy one.

The Find It Games are addictive. This long tube of plastic bits is filled with objects that you are required to find. We bought the sports version. There is a little football, baseball, ice axe, polo club, balance beam, hiking boot, etc....to name a few. In order to win you have to find everything. And that includes the very elusive penny.

Each game includes one penny. You have to find the penny and then you can sign onto their site and register it. You'll have to know what year it is and you'll have to provide your game number. Jeff has already found our penny, but I'm still looking. I was honestly shocked at how hard these games are. Some items emerge from the plastic bits more frequently then others. Jeff and I are still looking (after a week) for the swimsuit. The game comes with a cross of sheet that lists every item included.

They have a couple different kinds and each has unique items to be found. I want the zoo one although it is out of stock. Our friends have the kids version (which is still not easy) and are looking to buy the beach version. I picked mine up from Barnes and Noble which only had the sports one. I'll have to start ordering online. For $20 they are hours of entertainment.