Home Again, Home Again

If you're wondering why I've been so quiet it's because I've been gone. Jeff and I left on Wednesday for St. Louis and just got back this evening. When we're out of town we only bring Jeff's computer, so I don't spend a lot of time online. Plus we were somewhat busy. You know...spending time with family. So no posts for most of the week. I was showing my blog to my mother-in-law and realized that I've only posted 100 times this year. Way too few. So I'll try to up the quantity. Quality...well...we'll see.

We drove down on Wednesday to spend the evening with Jeff's brother and his family. I spent a good chunk of the evening playing Hide and Seek with my nephew, and drinking wine and talking with my sister-in-law. It was a wonderful quiet night. The next day we spent most of the day with Jeff's younger brother's family and my in-laws watching the Lions again lose at football and playing with my new nephew. Then at dinnertime we headed over to Jeff's aunt's house for a rather spectacular feast. There were several cousins and their families and plenty of food and laughs. It was a wonderful evening. I was really full and Jeff was stuffed to bursting. We finished the night with more football and a glass of baileys to end the evening.

The next day was much quieter. I never go out for Black Friday and this year I had even less interest. The fact that shops are opening on Thursday now just makes me wonder about our values as a society. I wonder how long it will be before all stores are open on Thanksgiving. So needless to say, I was not heading out shopping on Friday. Instead we hung out with my in-laws for a very nice relaxing afternoon. I knit (I'm working on my scarf for the Special Olympics), helped cook (I have new recipe to share), and was generally lazy. That evening we headed back to the older brother's house for a dinner of appetizers, more wine than I care to admit, and board games. We played Apples to Apples and Discombobulation. I'm pretty sure everyone had a great time. At least there was a lot of laughing.

This morning we headed to a local restaurant for breakfast and then Jeff and I headed out on the road. It rained the whole way through Missouri. A cold continuous rain. But Jeff and I had some great conversations (as we always do in the car) and by the time we were home I was feeling energized. It was a fantastic weekend with family and fun. I only wish I had brought the camera. And now I'm excited to have some time at home. I'm ready to slow down.

Enslaved by Ducks

Years ago, when I bought my first bird-feeder, Jeff had argued against it. I had been hinting around that I wanted to buy one for quite a while. But each time I brought it up, Jeff would just say no. He didn't have anything particularly against birds or the feeding of them, but he was a little concerned that like my mother I would go a bit overboard in the care and feeding of them. My mother doesn't just feed the birds, she prepares grand buffets for them. But I finally bought my feeder and now Jeff can recognize many of the unique birds that visit our yard. I consider it a success.

Currently I'm happy with my one feeder and its constant visitors. But I could see myself tipping over into overfeeding, overcare. Similar to Bob Tarte's hilarious memoir Enslaved by Ducks, I could easily see animals taking over my life. I'd read Enslaved by Ducks years ago on a whim and had fallen in love with Bob's household. With parrots, doves, rabbits, cats, ducks, turkeys, geese... all running around his house, I found myself laughing at the chaos and energy that I had grown up with. We often had cats, dogs, rabbits, mice, and some poor injured bird in the house. Bob's story takes that to an extreme. These creatures were not just in his life, they had taken over his life.

This past weekend I sat down with Bob's next book Fowl Weather. I was again transported into that wonderful menagerie where animals of any kind find a home. But this is a book that offers equal parts poignancy and humor. Bob mixes stories of his father's death and mother's growing forgetfulness with the antics of his household animals. He talks about his fights with his Muscovy ducks in the same story as the death of his beloved parrot. The story of how one of his parrots bit the bunny's tail off is intermixed with stories of his mother's constantly mislaid/hidden purse, a growing sign of her Alzheimer's. And it's a very personal set of stories. Through all of them, the animals seem to provide a balm for the chaos of Bob's life, even when they contribute to them. The stories show off the craziness of keeping forty animals, some of which hate each other. But it also shows how animals can be more than just pets. They can be saviors. I love to read stories of animals lovers. I can't imagine a more wonderful house for animals to end up at. Read Enslaved by Ducks for humor, read Fowl Weather for compassion.

My Muse is Dead

Every afternoon, I arrive at my writing desk to find a headless Jane Austen waiting for me. You'd think that would shock me but I'm so used to it now that I just reunite Jane with her head and sit down to write. It's becoming something of a ritual. Reattach head, write. Kind of like a muse.

But I think I should explain. I'm a bit of an Austenite. I've read Pride and Prejudice more times than I can count, although I don't have shrine to Darcy the way some women do. I'm not saying he's not an incredible character, I'm just saying that he's FICTIONAL. But back to Austen. I've read all her books, including the ones that no one else seems to have read. Persuasion is one of my favorite books of all times. I own two copies of Sense and Sensibility. I love this woman's work.

So two Christmases ago, my Dad bought me a Jane Austen potbelly figurine (this was the best picture I could find and I'm too lazy to get the camera tonight). Potbellies are little figures that open up to show a small holder for treasures. It's a really tiny place so those treasures better be tiny. But Jane Austen doesn't hold anything. She just sits on my desk and reminds me how great writing, particularly witty writing, can be. Now Jane opens at the neck to reveal her secret treasure space (wow that sounds bad). Basically her head pops off. And every day the cat jumps up onto the window sill knocking poor Jane's head off. At least I hope that's what happens. It's either that or Jane is attempting to kill herself daily and I'm stopping her.

But every afternoon I walk up the stairs after work, settle into my chair, put the head back on Miss Austen, and pretend to write. I wonder what would happen if I didn't have to reattach her head. Would I not be able to write that day? Would I have to knock off the head to get the creative juices flowing? Does this little ritual make me odd? I'm betting the answer is yes. But ritual it has become. So my poor muse is dead. Every single day.

Creepy Cardinal

I have my computer set up so that my desktop photo changes every five minutes or so. The computer shuffles through all the pictures in my iPhoto library and displays them. It's actually a lot of fun to find old photos that I haven't seen in quite a while. Last week there was a dark image that popped up on the screen. I minimized and I have to admit that this photo of a cardinal kind of freaked me out. It must be the glowing eyes. Or the fact that it all looks fake. Not sure what it was, but I knew I wanted to share the image. I just find it creepy.

Optimism and Stupidity

I turned 35 today. Generally birthdays aren't a huge deal for me but for some reason this one is special. Turning 30 wasn't a big deal, but 25 and 29 were really hard. All of the birthdays between here and 30 haven't been anything special. But this birthday has been something different. I'm excited about this birthday. I've noticed that each year seems to get better. I'm at the age I always wanted to be. And now at 35 I really feel like things are going to begin for me. I'm stubbornly optimistic.

My day has been blissfully ordinary and I'm content with that. I had the day off as part of my odd work schedule so I slept in a little late. Jeff wished me Happy Birthday as he left to go to class. I stayed curled up under two blankets taking in the warmth. But I got up shortly after to make it to my dentist appointment. I don't normally schedule appointments like the dentist on my birthday but this was when he could get me in. And it feels like a new beginning. My mouth is clean and fresh and healthy (cavity-free!!) and I'm planning to make this year all about health. I plan to be lighter and healthier by my 36th birthday than I was this year.

I also plan to write more, and actually publish something during this year. As you can see I have high hopes for this year. 35 seems like a turning point, a crossroads if you will. And I'm determined that things will start going the right way. I set up my studio last night so all I have to do is show up each day and start writing. This afternoon as Jeff heads back to class I plan to head upstairs to write. I'm ready to have a little discipline in my life and hopefully the success will follow. Writing and walking will be my focus for the year. Did I mention I'm stupidly optimistic today?

I did though find some additional humility today. Jeff met me over at my favorite noodle place for a birthday lunch. We talked and ate our noodles and had a nice time. As we were leaving I reached in my pocket for my keys. They weren't there. I checked my coat pockets. I checked my purse. I checked everywhere again. No keys. As we got closer to the car I could hear it. It was still running. I had managed to leave my car in the parking lot, running and unlocked while I had lunch. I said a quick silent prayer to the gods of parking lots and thanked them for my car still being there. It could easily have been stolen. I should be kicking myself for my stupidity. Instead, today it just reaffirms my faith in humanity. Optimistic, I tell you. I'm just hoping that this wasn't a senior moment. I'm too young for those.

Harlech House

These are the gates of a private residence in Dublin, Ireland. If the inside of the house is as fantastic as these gates are, I want a tour. Or let's be honest, I just want to move in. I want to be guarded by dragons. I think the house is currently for sale but I don't have the $2.5 million or so that is the asking price. Still a girl can dream.

Daytripper

Last week at the library I picked up a graphic novel that had been mentioned as one of the best graphic stories for last year. I'm a huge fan of graphic novels but I tend to focus on the more unique stories. I seek out those novels that touch on unusual topics. Alison Bechdel's Fun Home and Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis were two that I've read in the last year and found fascinating. I had read a review of Daytripper by Fabio Moon and Gabriel Ba and knew I had to pick it up. If the review hadn't caught me, the cover would have (yes I judge books by their covers, also by their titles). Daytripper might be one of the most unique and interesting stories I've read in a while. It's an existential graphic novel with a twist.

Daytripper is all about death. In each chapter, the main character Bras is killed. In a each chapter there is a brief obituary about his life and each section of the book is at a different age. Normally he is killed at a particularly tragic moment, one of the great moments of his life. We see how his death affects others based on where he is in his life. The 11 year old boy receives a very different send-off than the 48 year old man. And through these obituaries (Bras himself is an obituary writer and an author), we get a further peek into his life. In each chapter he loses his life at a particularly poignant moment: after meeting the women of his dreams, traveling on a book tour, after the birth of his first son. But in each story we see the character progress as he accepts life and starts to live more fully.

I noticed that each death, at a later stage of his life, started to impact me more. The first story is all about how he can't write, how he's trying to live up to his very successful author father, how his life is falling apart. Although tragic, his death didn't impact me. Perhaps because they tried to show that Bras wasn't really living. With each story, I felt more and more for the character. His deaths seemed more tragic. A particularly heart-wrenching death was when his son was six and idealized his father. Bras is traveling and the story is of the tender moments between him and his family. And at the end, I cried. Not because he died, but because he lived. The story reminded me of all the living we have to do and we better get to it. I saw how the obituaries changed. In these chapters I got to watch an entire life, and multiple deaths. And each seemed worse. A great character, an inventive way to tell the story, and some incredible emotions. This one has to be one of the best graphic novels I've read. It will find a place on my bookshelf.

Library Longing

I went to an author's reading last night at one of the newly remodeled local libraries in town. I went early so I could wander at my leisure and check out the new structure of the library. I walked in and instantly started for the nonfiction section. It's become my favorite section lately. And I did what I always do. I wandered down each of the rows touching the spines and seeing what caught my eye. I picked up a couple of books that interested me. I know they have a card catalog on the computer but I prefer a serendipitous way of finding books.

During all of this time, I hardly saw another person. I wandered alone looking at books. And I was struck by how happy I was. I was at peace and contented. I couldn't think of a single place I would rather be or a single thing that I should be doing. And this morning I realized what that means. I was in my element. I was exactly where I should be. It doesn't have to be that library, or even one in this city. But I'm fated to be in a library. It is where I am the happiest. And that was a beautiful thing.

Musical Interlude

Like everything in my life, my musical tastes are made up of obsessions. I listen to everything I can by a particular artist for months on end until I find a new artist. For months I listened to nothing but Bishop Allen. I bought song after song and listened. Then I discovered Andrew Bird. I spent weeks finding new songs and reading Andrew's amazing lyrics. That oddly lead to a Great Big Sea phase along with The Pogues. Not sure how I got from Andrew Bird to celtic except to say that my mind works in mysterious ways. For the last couple of months it's been Joe Purdy and Damien Rice. And now I'm moving on.

When Jeff and I were up in Minneapolis this last time I got started talking to a friend of ours and he mentioned that I should listen to Lisa Hannigan. I thank him for that. I'd already heard Lisa's amazing voice on Damien Rice's albums. She started her career providing vocals for him. But I've been listening to her solo works and have fallen in love. The song I Don't Know has to be one of my favorite songs right now. I listen to it nonstop. I've picked up at least six of her songs now. I'm also enjoying Lisa's videos. Knots is a great song and a very interesting video. I think I like the video for Lille more than I like the song, although anything with a pop-up book is bound to have my attention.

But Lisa is really just starting out her solo career. With only two albums under her belt I actually ran through her music faster than most. So I'm sharing this time with Ray LaMontagne. I've been listening to Ray's work on and off for several years now. Only in the last month has it become a full blown obsession. Jeff recently caught me rocking out to You Are The Best Thing and was a tad worried about me. I guess I was breathing heavy and making some interesting faces. It's hard not to breath a little faster with Ray's voice in my ears. Gone Away From Me makes me sad and happy at the same time. I've only been through a quarter of his work so far but I'm sure I'll listen to most of the songs. I'll listen to both Lisa and Ray until I know most of their songs by heart. And then of course I'll move on. And my music collections just keeps growing. Thank god for iTunes points.

Ghosts of Halloween Past

I've been going through some of my old pictures recently. Be warned. I'll probably post some of the older ones here. I'm a photo junkie, although I don't end up taking a ton of them myself. But I love when people send me old family photos. One of the ones I had in my album was the one below. Believe it or not, that's me, ready to head out for a fun night of trick-or-treating (although I looked stoned on candy already or maybe it was the wallpaper). I can't imagine how old I was. I'm terrible at guessing.

When I was younger, I went out dressed up a lot as cowboys or pirates or monsters. I was almost drawn to those type of action oriented characters. I also went out as an animal frequently. I remember an owl costume, a lion costume, and cat ears. I was never (to my knowledge) a princess, a fairy, or rockstar. I didn't do a lot of traditionally female costumes.

 I've been having a discussion with a friend of mine about how difficult it is to find women's Halloween costumes that aren't a bit slutty. It seems like every costume is for sexy nurses, sexy cops, sexy ladybugs, sexy librarians (which I pull off in my daily life ;-) ), sexy witches... everything sexy. A witch becomes a sexy witch. So now if I were to dress up, I would probably go in a man's costume. No one wants to be thrust that deeply into my cleavage.

But I have gone out in more traditionally female costumes as these pictures prove. These were Halloween parties that my sister threw back when Jeff and I were first married. The first year is me in the flapper dress, one of my favorite costumes. Jeff went as Jacob Marley (I love a man in a literary reference costume). The second year I was lazy and went in a Renaissance costume we had. My friend Josh is with us as Dracula, looking rather dashing for the undead. So I guess there are some costumes out there that don't stop at the crotch or show off "huge tracts of land". Maybe there is help for next year's Halloween.

More Portents of Winter

They are predicting our first snowfall tonight. The beginning of November! This is way too early for a first snowfall. Our furnace hasn't even been turned on yet. I'm pretending that it will stay rain in the hope that this isn't actually the beginning of winter (In my mind, it is officially winter after the first snowfall). But even if it doesn't snow tonight, in my heart I know it's coming. I'm suddenly cold.

My second omen that winter is right around the corner is that I cracked open my first pomegranate this evening. Those shiny red fruit are my winter addiction. I tasted a couple of the seeds and they had an acidic aftertaste that wasn't great. I'm guessing it is still too early in the season. It was heavy but not really heavy enough to be fully ripe. But another reminder that the dread season is coming. Bleh!

Winter Omen

Just like Red-Wing Blackbirds signal the beginning of spring, Slate Colored Juncos are my first bird of winter. These migratory birds mean that winter is right around the corner. They have also been called "snow-birds". They normally arrive right before the snow arrives and don't leave until April.  Today I saw my first junco at my feeder. It is a portent of things to come. I'm not happy. I'm not ready for winter.

All Work and No Play...

Makes Cat bitter.

This week is the week from hell. I've had a month's worth of work dumped on me in the last two weeks. I have three days to get most of it done. And I have something (meetings, social events) every night of the week. I'm stressed and frazzled and have been working almost non-stop since 7 a.m. this morning. That was fourteen hours ago.

So I'm stepping back. Taking a moment to breathe. And growl into the blog. I don't mean to growl at you but somedays you just have to stand on the rooftops and curse. I hope you don't mind too much. I'll return to my regular insanity on the weekend.

Until then, here is a very young male deer that walked in front of our house last week at 3 o'clock in the afternoon along with his sister. It's rare to see them out during the day but even rarer to see them walk down the street like that. I found the encounter magical, although now I just hope that they found their way back to the woods okay.

Then I'm Happy and Sad For You

It's been an odd weekend. A really odd weekend. It's been a weekend of both extreme happiness and extreme sadness. I've laughed heartily and I've cried miserably, within hours of each other. I've had warm bear hugs that warmed my heart and I've had consolation hugs that offered comfort.

My weekend started on Friday much like so many of them do. I had taken a half-day so we could drive up to Minneapolis for a friend's birthday party. The half-day was more fortunate that I realized. At 11:30 my department was called into a meeting to say that our boss had been let go. Now this was not just a boss the way I've had bosses before. This was a friend. We were all in shock. Some of the department was going out for lunch, just to get out of the office. I called Jeff to see if he could pick me up a bit early. I sent my now former boss an email to see if he needed anything. Jeff came right at the perfect moment, just in time for me to start crying. The office won't be the same without him around.

The drive up was okay but I was still pretty upset. Once we got up there though I was distracted. There was dinner at a sub place with a good friend of ours before heading over to the birthday party. We saw a ton of  people that we only see twice or three times a year. So it was an evening of hugs, good conversation, plenty of food and friends, with some Rock Band thrown in. Jeff and I stayed late into the morning, finally leaving the party around 3, which is only about six hours after my bedtime. It was a great time.

The next morning my body woke me up at 8 a.m.. Stupid internal alarm clock. We had plans to take the birthday boy out for lunch. Partly to celebrate his big round number birthday (which will remain unnamed) but partly because the party had also been a going away party. He's moving south. I figured that this would be the last time I'd see him for quite a while so I wanted to squeeze as much time as I could out of the weekend. Lunch was filled with great conversation. When we walked out to the parking lot I was sad again. I gave him a long hug and a Take Care but there was so much more I would have like to say. While I know we'll keep in touch via emails and phone calls, it will be a while before we get to spend time in person. And I'll miss him.

My sadness was short lived though as we headed up to watch the Huskers destroy Minnesota. I'm not really a Huskers fan but we were actually surrounded by them as we watched the game. It's odd to be in a house in Minnesota rooting for them to be crushed. But root we did. And crush they did. We had a wonderful dinner with friends, talked about sports and babies and knitting, then we headed back to our friends house to watch the Cardinals game and talk. We talked about some tough subjects but they were amazing. Jeff and I slept in the kids rooms that night, so I can now say I've slept on Dora the Explorer sheets.

They woke us for breakfast of homemade french toast and the chance to go see a trapeze school do some flying. On Friday at the party we had met one of their friends who trapezes as a hobby. He invited us out. Jeff and I had planned to leave on Saturday but watching trapeze outdoors was too much to pass up. We stayed. But our times were off. We arrived after they had taken down the net for the season. No trapeze for us. Instead we gave hugs and headed home. It took us two extra hours. The poor kitty had licked her food bowl clean by the time we had gotten home. We had only expected to be gone 24 hours. I hadn't been home in almost 72. And it was a weekend filled with highs and lows. It went from one extreme to the other. And sometimes that's okay. I know that this will work out. It's just odd right now.

Stranger Than Fiction

I watched Stranger Than Fiction again tonight. I'm not a huge Will Ferrell fan but I love him in this movie. I've seen it several dozen times now and every time I love it more. It's witty, funny, sweet, sad, and intelligent. It's the kind of movie I wish I had written. It not only breaks the fourth wall, it's all about the fourth wall.

What draws me to this movie is the characters and the characterizations. Jeff turned it on because he loves Maggie Gyllenhaal in this film. I can't blame him. She's beautiful in this movie. For me, I just want to be her character. I love the eclectic baker who fights the man and bakes goodies that make everyone drool. I love the kind-hearted character who gives away both her treats and her heart while still staying strong. I want to be her.

I also want to be Dustin Hoffman's character. I love the idea of the English professor who is enthralled with literature. His office is my dream office, filled with books, literature, discussion, and sunlight. I would love to have the time and intensity to read constantly and discuss books on a daily basis. I want to teach a class on "little did he know".

And I want to be Emma Thompson's character. I'm not sure I'd like the chain-smoking and ER stalking but I want that passion to write. To create. I have a card on my writing table that says "Passion is a form of madness." I've always craved that passion to write. Thompson plays the kind of eccentric writer I always wished I had become. Just more balanced.

I love this movie. I laugh, I cry, I dream. And in the end I finish the movie wanting to read and write and bake. But more than anything I want to live more fully. And that makes this movie special.