These days, I don't get too jazzed up about celebrations of any kind. New Years Eve, well it just feels like any other day. Brian is working, my dad came over and watched a movie, and Kitty is now sitting on the arm of the couch, looking at me while I type. It may sound tame, but I like it this way. Quiet. Not terribly eventful.
There is one New Years that pops into my head now and again. When I think about it, I can't help but smile. Senior year, a bunch of us softball players headed out to California to stay with a teammate and see several others. All told, about half our team was there, which was pretty dang cool.
We got to go to the beach, explore this decidedly non-east coast world, and we got to laugh and be silly and have fun. We got to go see the Price is Right, when Bob Barker was still the host. It was oddly tiny in that studio, but seriously cool nonetheless. We went to visit another teammate after making the mistake of going to Carl's Junior...we ate so much we could barely move. When we got to her house, I collapsed on the ground and fell asleep on the floor. Of course, my friends were ever so understanding...they kept throwing the dog's ball over me so it would walk on me and run on me and leap over me repeatedly. Luckily, I can fall asleep in almost any circumstance....and I got Julie back years later in Indiana, when I riled up Mendy's devil dog and kept causing him to run over her on the bed...and then he vomited on her. I had to leave the room I was laughing so hard.
Anyway...we had little epic adventures, how could we not when so many of us were in the same place under no constraints? At one point, we decided it would be a good idea to set up two skateboards side by side, sit facing each other with our legs connected and ride down the small, but steep hill at the lip of the driveway at our Lauren's house. Flo and I sat down and arranged ourselves. Taryn stood in front of us, ready to push us up the hill. About halfway up, Taryn realized she didn't know where she would go once she released us, and I imagine our combined weight was becoming bothersome. At that point, we started rolling forward, Taryn still in front of us, hands on our shoulders. She did the most incredible backwards striders down the hill, furiously kicking her legs up to avoid being crushed by the impending skateboards with full grown women on top. She managed to kick herself out of the way...and then Flo and I immediately went zooming off course (because we had no way of steering, which we hadn't previously considered...) and smashed through a small sprinkler pole on the patch of planted area along the drive.
In addition to breaking Lauren's sprinkler pole, we also destroyed her family's septic system, and Taryn managed to suck up her phone charger in an expensive vacuum. That moment, the one where the phone charger cord was sucked up in the vacuum, when we were trying to make up for all the other bad things we did to that house by cleaning...that is a moment that can make me laugh out loud in public. I was in the other room and could hear the vacuum humming along. Suddenly the sound of the cord being sucked up rippled through the house. You know the sound - that horrible grating, piercing, scratching sound that continues to suck up whatever is stuck until you finally regain the wherewithal to turn off the vacuum. As the noise continued to spiral out of control, I heard Taryn shouting for help, which only made the situation more humorous. Sometimes, just hearing something is more funny that seeing it, because the sound is so distinct that you know exactly what is taking place. I have the same reaction when I hear tires peeling out in snow. It just gets me. Anyway, on New Years Eve, we went down to the peer and found ourselves going from bar to bar, taking in the sights, meeting new people, talking about the year that had passed. So many of us were from the mid west and east coast, so the bar's outdoor patio with heater poles right off the beach blew our minds. We felt so sophisticated, so classy.
The best part about that night and that trip was spending it with my girls. We are a group of friends - a group that extends out into other groups and other teams - that truly love and support one another. We can always make each other laugh. We spur on each others' creativity, turning mundane observations into elaborate hypothetical stories. We feel happiness when someone in our group succeeds. To spend time with this group of women on New Years Eve was a special experience. Hell, spending years of my life with these women was something that has shaped me in so many significant ways. Every single day, I miss seeing them, hearing about the little details of their daily lives, laughing with them over silly things. Towards the end of the trip, I learned of my mother's death. It was an excruciating experience, one that I have written about before and will write about again no doubt. This post is not the time or place for most of the details, but there are a few that seem particularly important. Without any question, Kate flew home with me. Julie texted me a simple "I love you." Lauren, always calm under pressure, drove us to the airport and served as the rock I needed her to be. Over the months that followed, all of my friends showed me graciousness and love, even when they didn't know what to say or do. When I look at pictures of this trip, when I think about our time in California, I always think about the death of my mom and my consequent launch into full fledged adulthood, but I also think about how blessed I am to have such an incredibly support system in my life. These women know me, and they love me for everything - hideous and wonderful - that I am. For that, I am thankful.
...but it was kind of a glorious moment that I thought deserved documentation. We were number three at the DMV...that's how you know it is going to be a good day.
Also, when we arrived, we were so early that the DMV wasn't even open yet. We got in line behind a few people and sat on the curb. As it got closer to opening time, more people came up, ignored the line and weaseled their way toward the door. There was clearly a line forming, but some people just did whatever they wanted. Finally, I walked out in front of everyone and got their attention. I suggested we form a line so we all didn't trample each other. It worked out pretty nicely - we all lined up, and even one of the women who cut in line acknowledged that she was perhaps in the wrong place.
All in all, it was a rare positive trip to the DMV.
Just happened to catch Kitty in a ray of sun and since we were snuggling, she allowed me the rare chance to snap her photo...seriously, I think she knows when I am taking her picture and she will turn her head away from the camera.
November 18, 2012
It was cold out, and overcast. Brian had left for work, and I was avoiding mine. The end of the semester was in sight, but there were so many hurdles to jump over before it would be completed. I took a walk in an adjoining neighborhood, a place I sometimes walk through when the mood strikes me. As I walked, I thought about all of the things in my life that were causing me stress. Sometimes, it helps me to visualize them going into small tubes separated by category. I was feeling less than optimistic about the future, namely everything that has to do with money. I wondered how we were going to go from just barely paying the bills to gaining a little breathing room.
I was feeling dejected, praying for a way to see around the things that made me unsure. I looked up and noticed a beautiful dark green cabinet on the curb just off someone's front yard. I didn't realize it was there until I nearly walked into it. I surveyed it from afar, realizing that, although it had some flaws, it was exactly the kind of cabinet Brian had been looking for to display his gaming accoutrements.
I walked up to the open storm door and a woman came out. I inquired about the piece and she told me I could have it. It was such a simple moment - stumbling upon something that was beautifully crafted yet discarded, something that perfectly fit our needs and would make Brian smile, a way to visit with my dad, whose truck we needed to haul it the few blocks back to our apartment. It was a moment in which I felt like all of my burdens, all of the things that had weighed me down mere steps before, were lifted, if only for a brief moment.
I took a deep breath and smiled as I sent a picture to Brian and received his excited text back. I felt fulfilled. I felt close to something greater than myself. I felt like maybe all my worries could be dealt with in time, that I would find a way to deal with them - all because two kind people didn't have a place in their home for a slightly beat up piece of furniture.
One of the coolest parts of this experience was seeing my dad and Brian interact as they inspected the piece once we brought it up into the apartment. It was also great to hear my dad compliment the craftsmanship of the piece, to hear him tell me he was proud of me for recognizing its potential. Out of all the times he has told me he is proud of me (and my parents have told me that countless times in my life), this was one of the most important, one that I felt a great sense of validations for.
I think this feeling came from memories of hammering away on my own stacks of scrap wood while my dad built the most beautiful custom furniture in his shop. The sweet and piney smell of sawdust would hang thick in the air, the sound of buzzing saws splitting wood that he would deftly fashion back together. These sounds and smells and sights were a deeply profound part of my childhood, a part that made me a wood snob for sure...in a good way.
Hearing my dad say that my find was a good one felt like I was somehow paying homage to his career, his craftsmanship, and my memories of working in his shop and traveling with him on weekends to make deliveries. Although I came away with no discernible woodworking skills, I did come away with a deep sense of quality craftsmanship and an appreciation for hard work and handmade art.
December 1, 2012
Our first Christmas in our first home together...wild. Brian and I went to my dad's house and sorted through my mom's Christmas decorations and ornaments. It was an odd experience, particularly considering my mom died right after the new year and we never took down all of the decorations she put up for that Christmas.
As we sorted through the boxes, the slight smell of dust and mildew drifting up from the lids, memories of past Chrismas's came back. I recalled particular ornaments before they appeared in my hand. I found my favorites wrapped gently in tissue paper, her hands probably the last to touch them, a fact I only realize now, as I type.
I looked around the same basement that was so warmly decorated in my youth. The basement where we would crowd around the tree early in the morning - I couldn't contain my excitement, even as a teenager - opening gifts. After we exchanged gifts, my mom would make us breakfast - bagel sandwiches, better than any I've ever had - while my dad and I tinkered with our new gifts. Later in the day, I would listen to her upstairs, cooking a feast for our family, preparing the house for our gathering as Christmas tunes filled the house.
After she died, my dad and I stopped getting a Christmas tree, we had somber gift exchanges, we fled town that first Christmas and went to visit Lehigh family friends in New Hampshire and Indiana. We didn't really know what to do without her and we weren't up to the task of fighting through that first holiday season without her. Since then, Christmas, and every holiday for that matter, have been pretty absent of meaning. They just become days like any other, days that, like every other, remind me that she is gone.
A few months after meeting Brian, we drove to Tennessee together to visit his family for Christmas. It was the first time in years that I found myself once again surrounded by all things Christmas. It was odd to be back in that kind of environment, watching people shred gifts and hold them up for others to see, feeling the frenetic energy of a house full of people.
This year, was another landmark event in my adult life. Brian and I spent our first Christmas (our second together) in our first home together. Brian loves decorating for Christmas. He reminds me of my mom in that regard. It is nice to have that balance, since I don't particularly care for holiday decorating. It was nice to see the lights strung up on the wall and have Christmas music playing as the default as we cleaned and cooked. What was particularly nice was decorating our first tree together. We took my mom's old ornaments and placed them one by one on the tree, together. We joked and laughed. We imagined our future together. Later, before we left for Tennessee for the holidays, we exchanged gifts while Kitty watched from a chair. I was excited to give gifts in a way that I haven't felt since I grew up enough to get my mom meaningful gifts.
Brian brought the excitement of Christmas back into my life. His excitement for this time of year reminded me of how great it can be. I am thankful to be able to share my life with Brian and am thankful that he balances me in all the ways I need.
Oh Kitty...
Well, apparently, Kitty is the worst travel companion ever. She hated the entire journey. She hated being zipped into a carry case. She hated being carried in it. She hated being in the car. She hated when the car moved. And for a while there, it seemed she hated me...at least I figured she did judging by the horrifying guttural meows that she persistently emitted throughout the entire travel ordeal.
But, luckily, Kitty is quite resilient. After hiding in the closet for several days, she finally came out to explore and found many a place that she has now claimed as her own. Gosh, she is cute.
Brian's friend, David (The Savage Experience - see below), created some amazing art to grace our home. He made a perler of Brian a while back, and when we moved in together, he created one of me so Brian and I could hang out together perler style. When I went to Magfest last year with Brian and his friends, I saw perler art everywhere. Apparently, in the gaming community, perler is wildly popular. What's funny is that I remember perler art from when I was a little girl. I have vivid memories of being downstairs in the laundry room with my mom, ironing my little star and heart perler patterns, excitement bubbling as the smell of heated plastic oozed off of the iron as my mom pressed it firmly into some wax or parchment paper. This memory reminds me that Brian's and my world are bound together in interesting and unexpected ways.
There are the obvious links - My cousin would force me to watch him play Nintendo and Sega for hours on end. I would play Nintendo in my room - remember that Duck Tales game??) and later, I found myself listening to the new Hanson CD on my disc player while I rocked back and forth in my gaming chair playing Mario or Diddy Kong racing on N64. (Yes, that's right, I said Hanson...I loved them then, I love them now, deal with it.) When my mom and aunt still owned the hair salon, I used to pack my Gameboy case and sit quietly in their shop, gaming for hours. As a child, I found a simple joy in those solitary hours. Never much of a thrill seeker or adventurer, I found satisfaction in the kind of at-home adventuring and exploring these games could allow me. I found pleasure in the routine of the games, in the patterns. I knew what to expect in those worlds, I knew how they functioned.
But the game playing is only one way our worlds are connected. Something as small and seemingly insignificant as my experience with this kind of art as a child makes me feel a little bit more in touch with his world. Although I felt wildly out of place wandering through the game room at Magfest, I had to chuckle to myself when I saw perlers everywhere. Yeah, mine were crappy, they were haphazardly thrown together in a way that suggested a child's care and reckless abandon all at the same time. Sure, it was years and years ago that I engaged in this activity, but somehow, knowing that these creations were a part of my past, no matter how small, made me feel less inferior to the gamers strutting past me in their elaborate cosplay outfits. My favorite part about these two perlers is that they really encapsulate our personalities and they fit so well together. Sometimes, it takes me by surprise when I remember that Brian and I haven't even been dating for a full year. Like these perlers, we just seem to fit together.
Pretty much the best thing ever
Thoughts: Obviously, I didn't take this picture...but all the pictures I took today were lame...so, here is this one. I love it.
In Courtney, Shannon's and my elective - Challenge Accepted - we have been teaching the students about leadership and how to be a good follower. We have designed all kinds of challenges for them to tackle, and have encouraged them to think up creative solutions that are within the rules but bend them. Two week's ago, we asked students to create their own challenges, specifically by taking elements of the challenges we have already done, and making something new and improved.
This past week, we di three of the students' challenges. There were three group leaders, each with their own small group to lead. These groups had to design the challenge, troubleshoot, envision how it would run, and help us set it up before elective.
The first challenge went great and turned out to be probably the most successful day we have had in that elective all summer. The leader did a great job of conceptualizing something challenging but simple and easy to understand and execute. Students were put in pairs. One student was blindfolded, the other could not talk. They had to walk to the center of the gym, go around the center circle, and return to the start in under a minute. By the third attempt, the students were crossing the line with some of their fastest times.
The second challenge was pretty much a disaster...at least in practice. The leader actually did a great job of planning, running his group, explaining the challenge, and just generally being enthusiastic about it. However, the challenge he envisioned was so complicated that no one really understood it and we had to stop it halfway through to debrief. It was basically chaos, but we learned an important take home message - sometimes, no matter how thoroughly we plan, things might not go how we hoped they would.
The third challenge...well, I was scared. It was sure to be the most complicated of the three, and after the challenge 2 disaster, I was a little leery. Although the students were a little confused, they dove right in and gave it a whirl. I think it helped that there were dodge balls involved. By the third run through, things were going pretty smooth, and although they did not successfully complete the mission, they seemed to have a lot of fun doing it.
There was one moment during this third challenge - which was to carry two "wounded" soldiers to safety - when one of the students (blue shorts) and one of the volunteers and former Summerbridge students (green shorts) pick up the wounded soldier and straight up sprint her to the other side. I lost it. My loud, booming voice and laugh burst across the audio, which makes me laugh even more when I watch it. I just thought that was the funniest thing. Then, the student gets nailed with a dodge ball when he tries to go back and get the other wounded soldier. Classic.
I just love these kinds of moments. We get to take kids into a gym, give them some dodge balls, some space to run, and some objectives, and they just go to town. Even though this activity might appear silly to an outsider, I really believe that the students learned some important lessons about life. They created the challenge, planned it, set it up, implemented it, and analyzed what worked and didn't work. They shared their ideas about the roles they played, what was frustrating, and what they did well. I don't think there is a substitute for throwing the students into an activity, telling them to use their brains and deal with what they are given, and letting them get their hands dirty. They don't get nearly enough of this kind of learning in their regular schools, which makes me all the more thankful to be a part of a program that sees this activity as a valuable learning experience.
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