AmeriMania!

So, what did that rejuvination bring about?

Well, first off....Snowboarding!


The week that we returned, Mary got me up on the slops. I was terrified and even once I'd grasped it, was still not sure if I could be convinced to become a sloper. I spent my first day drifting in wide zig zags - what is called "falling leaf" that I really garnered no control over. I felt pretty rad when I actually got enough speed and distance to feel a breeze but Mary later told me there is absolutely no skill in falling leaf (buzz kill! But no, there really isn't.) I also excelled at falling. I did a pretty excellent number, running into another novice and sort of half somersaulting around him. I got so used to falling that I think I would get to points in my run where I felt like I was just supposed to fall and let it happen more than I needed to. I was pretty into things by the end but on my second to last run, I went off the groomed area and nicked some harsh snow that sent me hurling sort of forward and over and caused lots of really unpleasant cracking. I was unsure if the noise was all my neck or mostly my helmet but a mild headache I'd had catapulted into a dazing throb.

I'd inconveniently plotted my fast throughout the next days and I am sure this did not help my re-coup time after my first excursion. It took quite a few days, and a chiropractor visit to feel decently mobile again.

The second time around, I approached the idea with almost the same inner dread. Yet what transpired throughout the day was a shift from anxious survival to sheer enjoyment. I started to dabble more in toe-side - the more difficult of the positions with which to control direction - and managed to hold it momentarily a couple of times (before promptly falling). We were not graced with the same springy weather as before however, and by the time we were leaving the snow was acquiring a crunchy meddlesome layer of powder and the winds were starting to eat beyond our winter armor. But I left that day with an assured change in outlook. I am officially excited for the time I get to go up next. And last night I met a guy who instructs up there and who offered to help me progress with that (and also teach me safe falling.)



The weeks of cleansing leading up to February were really like my pre-game amp-up for a crazy-busy month. I re-vamped my outlook on the Community Garden attempts (to be covered in a separate post because its so exciting and involved) and took the reigns in promoting our annual AmeriCorps Pancake Feed. Insanity had us put it on our calendar for the week we returned from winter break. It had been done that haphazardly the year before and for lack of advertising, about five people came to chow down. I've developed a fairly good endurance for the tedious task of promoting and advertising events and such so I took a chunk of motivation from my depository and got on top of spreading the word.

In the same vein, I rolled out permission slips for our next Bowling Field Trip for the younger kids and after weeks of just leaving a form of interest on the Open Gym table for ordering our AmeriCorps-designed T-shirts, I realized I could be taking it out and about town. So the pre-game was lots of walking and talking and out and abouting.

Late January did present a couple of events as well.

On the last day of my fast, a group of us volunteered to serve at the annual Packwood Crab feed, perfect for me since the crab smell certainly did not increase my appetite.

For Martin Luther King Day, we held our "Civic Engagement Project: Healthy Meal on a Budget." I don't recall whether or not I mentioned this in a previous post, probably because as soon as it was voted upon that this would be the result of our team's practice of the Civic Engagement Camp that we do with the kids in the Spring, I checked out. Mentally, and pretty much physically to any extent that I could. At the last minute, I worked up enough commitment to research some of the nutrition and cooking tips of our meal plan and make a price comparison at local stores. But I was not thrilled about the project. The Civic Engagement curriculum is supposed to prepare kids with the tools, resources and understanding of what it takes to put on a service project for your community and the importance of actively engaging in your community. And on our day of service, we found ourselves hiding away in a church kitchen with three parents that knew how to cook, a restless kid, and a teen there for class credit. I felt like we were completely disconnected with what the community could find useful. At least everyone enjoyed the food.

Alice cheerfully flips flapjacks

fluffy!

We held our Pancake Breakfast on February 1st. Mary and I had picked up our big order from Blanton's the night before and had it all ready to dive into at the Community Hall. Even so, we were up at 4am. Setting up the tables and cutting our first plate of fruit took next to no time but the early arrival was necessary in order to get a head start on the bacon, perhaps even more of a hit than the hotcakes. Around 6:30, we started to heat our three griddles...on the same wall. We didn't get very far before the fuse blew and we had to rearrange. Still, the trickle of early risers was next to nothing and with a few more of the team arriving, we were well-stocked for our first diners.

Stoked to see some of our kids stop by for breakfast on the way to the Pass

Live Action Advertising

There was a lot of nervous apprehension going around after the previous year's big bust - about 5 people had turned up - and for the first hour or so, we looked imploringly out windows at the passing cars. I challenged Lou to even go so far as to stage some performance pancake-eating outside on the side of the road. Eventually the day picked up and we had a modest but steady flow.

On February 4th, we took some of our younger Open Gym kids to the Bowling Alley.

The Bowling experience itself was a bit grueling.

-The heat had not been working all day so the place was being warmed by one space heater
-The kids rarely held out past their turn before running off to pass the time with other games
-The youngest tended to think that money just came from adults and kept asking the owners for quarters
-All of the money they did bring went towards WAY too much sugar from the vending machines
-By the end of the night, they were all wrecking havoc on the small play area that the owners had set up for their own children during work hours

However, the most beneficial thing for me was the drive. Mary took the large van which tends to be all the more enticing to the kiddos cause it fits more friends. In the rush to call dibs, I ended up getting some of our more tough-minded kids in my car for the drive up. One in particular, E, claimed shotgun. With the toughest wall I have ever tried to communicate with, the most I had ever talked about with E beyond discipline and oversight was electronics. He loved to gush about every iPod, iPhone and computer you had to the point that you would start to wonder if he would run away with it right then and there. On the drive up, his entire focus was my phone and my ipod and trying to get music that he liked. For a while, he scrolled through my iPod music selection, laughing at some K'naan titles and surprisingly pausing longer at Norah Jones that I would have expected. Eventually his eagerness for rap led him to try and get Pandora working on my phone. As luck would have it, the connection was not in the mood to cooperate and he spent most of the drive bouncing back and forth between devices, cursing the internet while I tried reasoning with him to think about how much effort it takes that little device to connect. When we were almost there, I had gotten sick of the frustration. He had been trying to play Eminem and conveniently enough, a pang of nostalgia had struck me just the other day and I my old copy of Curtain Call that my middle school friend had burned me in my CD player. There was a mix of bafflement, frustration and joy as I disclosed the secret I'd been stashing. I was most hesitant because curtain call is not exactly his cleanest album but all of the kids in the car were gung-ho fans and knew all the lyrics anyway. And luckily E was so ADD that we didn't even listen to a full song before we had arrived.

I still felt uncomfortable with the fact that I was just letting these young kids listen to profane rap without inquiry. My allowance had won them over, vying to be in my lift on the ride home but I told them I would not let them play it the whole time. Still they were eager to ride with me. We listened to the CD about half-way but I kept it on low and while the music went on in the background, I began to try and carry some conversation. I asked E if he had ever free-styled, asked him what he found so appealing about the music and through these and other questions, the conversation spilled over into things deeper - glimpses of insecurity, resilience and limitations - and I realized that I had just won a new level of respect with this kid.

Then the busy-ness kept coming. Assisting at a health fair. A fashion show. A roller rink. I have also been trying to get more involved in monthly Teen Center Girl's nights that Alice has been hosting. This month, I got into planning mode with her and we had a small but engaged group join us to make art, watch movies about Media influence and discuss what it means to have inner confidence. These nights produce a delicate balance of fun and entertainment while also encouraging some deeper discussions to surface and I think over the next months, we can see that evolve more and more.

Waitressing gig for the Morton Fashion Show

Don't we look professional? 

When was the last time YOU were in a bouncy house?! Highlight of the Health Fair. 

Also: most well-put children's book about childhood abuse ever. 

A night at the Roller-rink (and I got to get in a pair of blades!)

My beautiful contour drawing of Alice for our Girl's Night Art Project : ) 

Multi-facited February...and there was more!

Through my assistance at the food bank, another big thing that I took on this month was a revival of the White Pass Backpack Program. The program is meant to act as a way to get food to students in need by sending them home with a backpack full of meal components for the weekend. One day after packing food, I got dragged into a  reviewal food bank meeting. I ended up becoming a key component when a few members mentioned this Food Assistance Program that had been started with AmeriCorps a number of years ago and despite of its value, had abruptly stopped. There was consensus that everyone wanted it up and rolling again and the only piece that was missing was talking to the school...and making sure there was someone willing to continue it. So I took the role and a few weeks later was collaborating with school faculty and our Food Bank Director to order food and get out permission slips. It has been good to have another project that will bring me more into the school pool and I am excited to re-vamp it a little. One criticism that our superintendent had about the previous attempt was that a lot of junk was being sent home and we were not actually meeting meal requirements. And so with our collection of food, I asked for some bulk items like oats and rice and produce when available from the food bank fridge. I wrote up a "newsletter"of sorts called the Backpack Buddy which I intend to fill with recipes, nutrition about some of the contents of each pack, cooking tips and various health reads as called to. With the backpacks going out every other week, alternating with food bank weeks, I will hopefully have time to write one for each backpack weekend. If not, at least every other one.

As I began leaning more and more towards a second year here, I decided to start looking into the schools this month to see how I might want to be involved there more. Thus far, I've only seen the experience of working with the high school/Junior high and based on these accounts, the jury is definitely still out:

-High school shadowing: I followed Mary around to her classes for a full day and left exhausted, disgruntled and yet still feeling my need to be there more than ever. Most of her classes were math and I felt way under-qualified to dive in in any capacity. However, during one english class I couldn't take it anymore and broke out of my observation role to help a couple of students write poetry. The class was in shambles. They'd had a sub that day and both the sub and the kids had a mutual disdain for one another. And so, after 5 minutes of attempted sharing of their "5 sense poems" between shuffles and commentary and peer-pestering, Mrs Vessy was yelling at the class to "BE QUIET" and "Well, not how I wanted to spend this class but now all of you are just going to sit and write me twelve of those poems. Cause apparently you can't handle sharing." This did not go over much better and the two girls nearest to me kept chatting away. One of them was tossing out plenty of ideas and yet the pencil did not once touch the paper and so I rolled my chair over and began to facilitate some actual writing. I managed to get her to do two of the 12. Near the end of the class, it was obvious that most people would not finish and so instead, I decided to just ask her why the assignment seemed so difficult. She answered justly, that she had to feel inspired. And so I asked what inspired her and she said "the outdoors." Here, in a musty room of 20 or so rowdy, restless teens, I couldn't blame her for not wanting to write. In fact, I couldn't blame anyone. She, probably like most of the kids, was pitted bitterly against the sub, seeing her as nasty and disrespectful and the sub in turn saw them in the same light. It was a battle of stubborn egoism and uncompromising discipline. There was no understanding, no room or time for it. I saw this all throughout the day and I was split. I knew I would get endlessly frustrated being in a school like this and yet I knew that I had the potential to plant ideas of different educational models if I came to work in these classrooms, even if they were just the smallest grains of inspiration.

Junior High Dance: This was all kinds of flashback. The blinding drama of teen love. The insecure social awkwardness cloaked in complexes of confused egos. The crying. The giggles. The odd phenomenon of people coming to a function to sit or stand around in fear of what they actually came to do. It was brilliant. Highlights include: the couples that took half the night to even say hello and when they finally got to a slow dance, stood shoulder to shoulder with their buddies and talked girl to girl, guy to guy the entire song. B, one of the few always blissfully removed from the typical drama, seeing it all through only the eyes of a camera. The girl with heels that were an inch too big for her feet. Noticing the ratio of time spent on the dance floor to time spent in corners on cell phones. Realizing that I am not there and never have to be ever again.

Field Trips: Mary got me an in on going on any and all of the field trips for the rest of the year. I took the opportunity to hitch a ride to Seattle with 15 seniors for a visit to the newish Museum of History and Industry (MOHAI). This group had hardly any reason for a chaperone - a whole other experience from the rest of my school interactions. The trip was great except that we had far too short a time to peruse the 3-story building that explored everything from the first pioneers to the last to make history in the City of Seattle. I had to rush through most of it but I was glad that I opted to sit through a particular video that explained the Great Seattle Fire of 1889 that caused the city to have to be rebuilt. The event was documented musical style, assigning old artifacts as "singers" in the skit. Very Schoolhouse Rock style. I think they should make a whole feature musical covering all of the topics in the museum. Even with the short time, it seemed like most of the kids got something from it and found a favorite part, whether it be the maritime exhibit, the vast display of famous faces from seattle, the history of Microsoft, Seattle during the war, or dabbling with the interactive maps that show you where you would most fit in in the giant collection of neighborhoods.

Hobo code used during the Great Depression

Neat sculpture built from old boats and left to weather's whim for years. Old fish oils stain it with color.

Next week, I will be shadowing Mackensie in the elementary school to compare notes.


In February, I began to pump more into the day-to-day as well, keeping up with my "today in history" posts at Open Gym, bringing craft ideas along and engaging more in the basketball and football happenings of the evening. But my biggest focus of the month was the turn of a doubtful vision into a blossoming actualization....

Shifting

New year.

Its a good time for it, the shifting. 

The holidays, always a "good" excuse to put off needed changes. Indulge. Cares to the wind. But for me, even then I knew that something was percolating. And then, just before returning home, I saw the doctor who kindly told me what I already figured. I have probably been graced with IBS.

Even so, the changing did not start right away. I knew that Mary's old AmeriBuddy would be up to visit the week we returned and I decided that was obviously clumped into a continuation of the holidays. celebration, ya know.

But my body was fed up. And I was fed up with being fed up. And I was angry. It was easy to be angry and scared and frustrated when I didn't know what to call everything that was happening. I was convinced that my digestive concerns were my fault. Blame, shame, anger, fear, frustration, embarrassment muddied up inside me.


And I had envisioned rejuvenation upon my return? "Breaks" are delusions and silly excuses to stay stuck. I mean, to "break" is to stop. stop trying, stop moving. Just stop. Life doesn't STOP. The only way to get back rejuvenating energy is to put energy out the right way. 

I knew it was time.

A week or so later, after an exhausting trip to Portland (although I did get to see good persons) and my lethargic effort at Open Gym and other obligations, I was driving to Morton. It was evening and the sunset was penetrating and fiery, infecting me with a sort of calm determination. I felt a longing to return to my connection with the nature surrounding me and it knew I belonged there just the same. Grace needed to return to my life.

Three days of fasting.

Seven days of broth and smoothies.

Three days of adding simple solids: rice, rice cakes, oat bran.

8 glasses of water a day, 9 hours of sleep a night. No alcohol, no caffeine. 1 hour of exercise.


The results were incredible. Physically, my stomach had ceased stabbing me like a dagger. Spiritually, I felt an opening to reflection again, a slowing. The stress was subsiding. Mentally, I was present. I wasn't jumping ahead or falling behind, but fully present. And I felt a lift from all of the blame that I had placed on myself. I felt I had reached another level of growing. On the second day that I added solids back, I was thrilled that I felt "normal".

And then I had to take a trip to town. It was nothing complicated, just a very full day. I had to take my car in for an oil change and pick up a couple of things, then do my co-op shopping. I was meeting my friend and his girlfriend for dinner that night and had some time to kill so I strategically planned to bring myself to a movie. (Side note: Her is surprisingly well worth a watch.) I had fit it in just so and I had to rush a bit from the co-op to get back to the theater in time. The whole day, I thought that I was handling the clock-work schedule in a well-balanced way but by the time I was driving to my friend's I felt the anxiousness of keeping a tight ship on time seep in like a leak in the boat.

Dinner and the visit went fine, but the anxiety underwater stirred and by my first meal the next morning, after having to rush to get to a meeting on time, I could tell it wasn't going to sit well. On my drive home, the cramping returned and my heart sunk in my chest. Weeks of trying to "correct" something and I was back in pain.

The desperation came and went for the next few weeks, as I tried to schedule appointments and try to determine what would cause what.

But for all of the struggling, I was still acquiring pieces of a new self-image. A new way of understanding how to deal with me. The mystery of what I was putting in my body and what affected me how seemed to be less about diet and more about the stress. And based on my Olympia trip, it apparently didn't take much. I had an astrology reading that furthered these understandings. I still have tests to come. And I've started acupuncture.

I have had to reevaluate my "end-point" perspective - yes, a silly one to have in the first place, I know - and realize that this will never be "cured" or systematically understood to be avoided. But that for whatever reason, this will be a challenge for this journey and that I can always shift how I  approach it. It is hard sometimes, but to finally touch it, to dip into the depths of its annoying unanswered questions has been a rejuvenation of sorts. Because if it won't "break", I have to learn to live with it. And if I keep moving through it, I will find those rejuvenating spaces.

during my "cleanse" at the beginning, I definitely felt a boost in energy. I started to tackle the garden project once more, I was more active in my volunteering and taking the extra steps in projects and efforts to contact people. But even after the bliss of thinking I'd "conquered" my problem expired, what it left was a reminder of a "tell it like it is" , "grow up" attitude for myself that knows I have the energy to push forward more than I sometimes do. And I have been demanding that for myself more and more effectively.

Mountains to Mitten Part IV: A little celebration, a little frustration

My procrastination has overreached its boundaries on this folks. So, a speed post to get out of the year 2013.

Fun things occur between here and there: My resignation to not make any holiday treats turns into 5 separate recipes in an afternoon, leading me to make a desperate PSA about cookie delivery and subsequently far more social dates than originally anticipated. A secret celebration is in the mix (for which more baking commences) and then, I am off to Chicago to see my lovely friend Maggie and her Culinary school life.

I opt the Megabus route to get me to the windy city. For those of you unfamiliar, the Megabus is a "low-cost" alternative to the Greyhound. It's like the misbehaved dog's over-tidy, neurotic owner. No one talks on these things. And you are let off at group rest stops like disciplined school children. Even so, my trip there was tolerable enough but by weekend's end, I have no high praise for my first experience and will not be recommending the service to you fine folk. Stay tuned to see why. \

I feel like Babe, Pig in the city when I get let off in downtown. My insides lurch at every horn and I cringe at the angry sputters and expletives hurled out of Taxi windows like Tourettes. Maggie and Justin call me as they are quick approaching in the lane of non-stop traffic and we pull a hit-and-run stop to get me in the car.

Apart from the mob that is transportation, we have a jolly good time. Maggie has also baked up a storm - perhaps enough to feed Chicago itself - and we nosh and catch up before going out for some late night beach tromping. We kick back he next day, play scrabble in a snazzy cafe, quench my recent sushi cravings and later go on an adventure which unexpectedly acquaints Maggie and Justin with a bar that receives their declaration of "The Spot" for their local indulgence.

My return the next day begins smoothly. We are up way early for Justin to drop Maggie and I at the Mega Bus stop. Traffic on the commute is unnaturally non-existent and we arrive early with plenty of time for him to get to work. But its like "Hoth" cold outside and the only shelter option is across the street at Union Station. Now smooth becomes very, very topsy turvy.

beautiful Chicago Morning

The ticket you print off for the Mega Bus gives you a time. It doesn't really say what that time means. It just gives you a time, which you can assume is arrival, departure, estimated time of arrival...whatever. In the case of my first experience, it was the time that was 15 minutes before the bus even arrived. Then, another 15-20 minutes was spent loading luggage of which I had none to load.

Finding ourselves on one of the windiest days in the windy city that morning, we decide it would be reasonable to seek shelter across the street and emerge when my listed time ticked up. Well, this time it was the time that the bus was pulled away from the curb, already up to the stop light ready to turn a corner. I run up and knock at the door, politely gesturing to please let me aboard. The driver gives me the scathing glare of a scrooge that had just brushed paths with a small, needing child. There was a good full minute after that for him to sit in which I could have easily gotten on. But instead, the light turned and he turned. Maggie is talking to the man on the sidewalk who suggests I rush to the other end and try to catch him. I make one last attempt, waving my arms frantically, conjuring the most distressed look that I can manage and the driver proceeds to run a red light to avoid me.

But this is just the beginning of our fun conundrum. First, we rant and vent. Then we decide to head towards the greyhound for a bus that was set to leave in a couple hours. We stop first for some food just across the street from the mega bus. A tasty indian restaurant that provides some much needed warmth to our frozen feet and bitter outlook at our misfortune. However, while there we check the greyhound once more and the ride has disappeared. The next step is to look back at Megabus. Maggie finds one that is soon enough that I would succumb to their service one more time before never using them again. We sit with our eyes peering out the window and a quarter to the time, go across the street. I wonder then, why no one else is there and ready to go, if they are so prompt. Another look at the ticket makes for another turn of events "11:59PM" not AM. Another $40 down the drain. My final option is the 12:20PM Train. At the ticket booth, the woman cautions on the boarding time and warns that if we miss it, the next one is 6PM. "Don't Worry." I say. I will not miss it!

the station is packed. Lines are formed haphazardly and it seems some have been waiting for quite some time. I start to catch mutters of "late" and "unknown delay" about the room. Two and a half hours later, after enduring vague, technological statements about the status of our train and being led and abandoned in random lines outside of the station loading area, we are finally led back in to board.

I sleep. I arrive 20 minutes before I am supposed to be going dancing.

never has there been a more needed antidote for frustration.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the break.

More friends.

More food.

More cat.

Less sleep.

And of course, a game night to top it all off.

I love my friends. <3

I escape the mitten just before the Polar Vortex. Suffering through only a couple of 2 hour layovers. Mary and corey are in Portland to pick me up and we are back home in Packwood at 2:30am.

MARY GOT ME A NEW HAT!

Mountains to Mitten Part III: Tradition

My family has been saying we want a "presentless" Christmas for years. Yet it never fails that we find ourselves curled up on our living-room furniture, picturesque fire ablaze in the background, poised for a Halmark moment. To my credit, I have long since refrained from meticulously setting up over a dozen of my favorite stuffed animals as audience to my grand gift dismantling.

Tradition can be as habitual as morning coffee. But it is the familiar in the big picture sense that we cling to, especially when the day-to-day is always change. Perhaps its why so many families do the same thing for the holidays year after year, including the stressful preparations; a testament that family can be relied upon to always be familiar, through the stress and the change and everything else.

So I don't mind it. We have tailored our gift giving to be more meaningful or pragmatic. And our tradition is more than gifts.

On Christmas Eve, my parents go to the 11pm service. Jordan usually declines. I have been in the same boat in the past but as I grow older, I want more and more to understand how I can let my Dad's religion more into my life.

For the past few years, he has been looking for a church to call home so it changes around a lot. But this year, we went back to the same little small congregation we'd gone to the year before. The minister of the church is there with a giant family. And then there is us. But I like the pastor leading the service. She is a story teller with an open mind.

On Christmas morning, we head out to Meals On Wheels for our morning of volunteering. The gig is kind of a grab bag. Last year, none of the folks we delivered to were expecting us. Some of them seemed bothered that we woke them up, or disturbed their holiday. This year, our recipients are more expectant but I am in the market to find another way to lend a hand on the holiday.

Back at home, we have our Christmas Brunch before gifts. This year, I proposed we try Crepes. Mostly because I have had a ton of vegan and otherwise odd variations bookmarked to try. With toppings galore, they also seem like a please-all option.

My non-vegan average joe crepes look like French perfection. My vegan attempts, not so much. The first try at Buckwheat crepes becomes a muddled, spongey brown glob which I mold into a sort of pancake mash. Adding an egg to the Almond Flour recipe, I manage to pull off those decently enough. I will perfect those buckwheat ones. It is possible. The site had pictures!

My gift creativity is lacking this year, but my parents take up that slack. As per usual, they try to be clever with misleading packaging and complicated gift orders buy my mom put together an expandable book of my best recipes and a "coupon" to get an Astrology Reading session from a trusted and true professional who works with a friend of the family. My dad gives my mom and I a binder of Carrie Newcomer's latest Creative works. Jordan gives me coupons which I will try to use up more quickly than the "free movie outing" I cashed in at least three years late.

Saisha is the entertainment, making one of the giant gift bags come alive from the inside:

See my cat be adorable.

That evening we see "Saving Mr. Banks." I highly recommend the film, although the warmth and sincerity portrayed by Tom Hanks' Walt Disney is questionable. The movie is more about the writer of Mary Poppins and she is a very interesting character indeed.

Post-holiday, we go up to Detroit for the day to see a special Animation exhibit. The collection would have taken someone at least a few days to go through if they were really serious about watching every clip. It is quite impressive. Muybridge is once again stomped into my brain opens with the humble beginning of stitched still-frames. It takes us into the flashy illustrated world of Disney and Anime before coming full-circle to more engaging contemporary stop-motion. A couple of favorites:

Dimensions of Dialogue
Rabbit Run
Frank Film

Mountains to Mitten Part II: Hi...Bye!

Now you see her, now you don't!

The next few weeks are a blur.

On the 21st, my mother and I go to a small Solstice gathering in Ann Arbor. I don't really vibe with the crowd and the alienation puts me in a mood for a bit, but Lori makes it all worth it. She led a workshop on her practice of the 5-Rhythms dances  founded by Gabrielle Roth (1941-2012)

In all my time with Lori, I had never been led through one of these routines - her daily life-nectar and foundation of her spiritual practice - so I was excited to finally partake. Also, since being in Packwood, my dancing opportunities had been limited to synchronized sing-alongs of The Fox with Mary and meager attempts to get in a few to-and-frows in the bar before my space would be infringed upon and I would just cease all-together. By the end of the hour - one full of swooping and spinning wildly across the room, uninterrupted - I had tears forming in in the corner of my eyes as I realized how much I had needed that freeing space of self-expression. An opening to the light from dark confinement, to keep it solstice-y.

The weather is harsh that day and we cancel our outdoor portion of our celebration to cash in on a relaxing evening at home. And then the moving around starts all over again in the morning...

I am off bright and early the next day to whisk up my friend George for a Grand Rapids excursion.

Grand Rapids is becoming a cool cat.

Just around the time I left, it decided to get even cooler with a massive Downtown outdoor/indoor market featuring Michigan-made everything. Learning about it during a moment of nostalgia 2,500 miles away from home was kind of a big jealousy-inducing slap in the face. So it was a juicy cherry on the top of our Grand Rapids Sunday.

Everything is tantilizingly taunting, leaving me to battle the inducing shopper's fever. It is the holidays, after all. I snap out of it (mostly) - gourmet tea satchels and Olive Oils infused with everything short of baby's bottom are not my gift-giving style. However I do end up buckling when we are roped into trying over half a dozen sophisticated, alcohol-infused jam flavors. We settle for Barrel-aged whisky Apple Butter and Jalepeno Raspberry. A contribution to Christmas Brunch, right? I have the (pricey) Barrel-aged Whisky Maple Syrup bookmarked for a future splurge.

When we have had our fill, we head over to my friend Lauren's where she is once again in the midst of being Wonder Woman. Battling a terribly mysterious case of ills, she has not only insisted on keeping the Putluck a go, but has tasked herself with tearing down every room of her house to re-paint it. She is in the middle of a purple sea when we arrive. George and I make ourselves useful with cleaning projects before commandeering the kitchen to cook our evening contribution.

The eating commences late but the place is transformed, with no trace of having been a construction zone a few hours earlier. Both familiar and new faces, amazing food and a bonus holiday play conjured up by Kayan, Imani and a few of their little friends.  On full bellies and sleepy eyes, we finish with a Rap encore by Kayan and some budding guitar talent.

Raw Cranberry Carrot "cake"

Imani lookin' stylish

Mountains to Mitten part I: Getting there

My winter break game plan went something as follows: 

Lay low. play game. family. snuggle cat. family. lay LOW. snuggle cat. snuggle cat. think about doing something and then snuggle cat. family. maybe some close friends somewhere in the mix. snuggle cat infinity. 

My actual winter break was more like this: 

surprise a friend. snuggle cat. family dinners. snuggle cat. surprise more friends. snuggle cat. leave town. snuggle cat. family games and holiday debates. snuggle cat. surprise more friends (with unexpected holiday baking). snuggle cat. holidays. leave town. almost get stranded out of town. dance with friends. snuggle cat a lot. more friends. snuggle cat and cancel plans. new years. cat. lots of friends. cat. intense family kurfufuls. cat. catcatcat infinity. 

So....I got the cat part in at least. 

***I'd like to preface with the fact that I am in a very different place now than I was then (well, duh.) there comes a point in procrastination at which detailed anecdotes are rendered pretty useless. Plus, I am more excited about where I am now (emotionally). But for the purpose of these recounts, I will try to refrain from bringing too much inner dialogue from the current me into the entries. That will be later!***

On two hours of sleep, Mary and I are whizzing to Morton. Our commute angel Corey will meet us there and take us to Portland. Mary is instantly conked out once we load his car. She's good at taking her sleep exactly when it beacons. I am too pumped to be tired. Corey is good conversation and we couldn't have been given a prettier sunrise for the drive.

In fact, most of the trip goes smoothly.

But oh man, 21st century. My first reaction upon entering the airport is "Mary, tell me where to go." She peers at my ticket and points to the line ahead, for Delta. It is blissfully non-existent. Awesome. However, the couple in front of me takes forever, asking about special accommodations or something. I zone out. When I am finally called up, the lady at the desk asks me if I am checked in. From my bewildered I thought I was doing that here look , she barely waits for an answer before asking in unflinching monotone "are you a priority passenger" (or something fancy like that.) In annoyance, she points over down the lobby to her left. "You need to do a self check-in or go down to the special services and they will help you." I am already deterred from dealing with another harsh over-worked employee so I decide to walk over to the rows of computer kiosks I'd avoided before.

I am still a phone-code virgin. The screen asks me to wave my texted little Rorschach square under a laser but nothing is happening. The only thing reacting is my stress level. Finally, I just go to the "special service desk." No one is there and when someone finally sees me waiting, she acts even more annoyed than the first person. Apparently that line isn't open. As politely as I can, I try to explain to her that I am not an indoctrinated robo-tron hooked into the "know" of everything cyber. She marches me back over to the computers, asks for my ticket and presses a bunch of buttons. Maintaining my manners, I thank her and explain I don't fly often. I haven't seen these before. She humphs. What advancement. We've progressed our technology and stunted our manners to Cave Man age.

So, back to the smooth sailing (besides getting my Swiss Army knife taken at security - oops).

The flight is relatively on time. We are riding one of Boeing's newest plane - "the pride of our fleet today." Fancy.

 Okay, it is pretty fancy. First of all, they have found a way to make me pay attention to the safety video. Live action skits filmed with cinematic refinement that poke fun at themselves. These are shown on individual screens on the back of each seat. I got that uncomfortable "bah, sheep" feeling when they flashed sychronized advertisements on all 150+ screens in front of each passenger but ultimately succumbed to the private theater offering...I mean, c'mon. I got to watch Despicable Me II and Somm (very interesting documentary) for free. Needless to say, I did not do the sleep I was planning to do.

Family sans cat stand before me at the baggage claim 4 hours later. Immediately, there are the familiar  well-intended bickerings and banterings and silent allies formed. Our reunion conversation is abridged and sidetracked with the urgent logistics of dinner. I had been sitting upon the hope of surprising my very dear friend Anna at Arbor Farms and, settling upon driving home for dinner it was looking like a possibility once more.

First principle of coming home: Lay low. 

Mission: Anna surprise turns into 48-hour hang out session. There was a secret mission, really tasty sangria and games involved. But not really a laying low thing.

My contribution to the Holiday discussion.

Dominoes for arts-es, yes?

This was good. Take note. So much happening in your mouth. 

To end this entry, I will grace you with a lovely feline face. I figured I would get these out of the way now, since they have very little context except that they happened incrementally between everything I did for the entire two weeks.

Principle "cat snuggles": still in tact.

Intermission:

Entering into the new year, I have been deciding to look at some things in my life more closely and seriously. Health, finances, time investment...seriously did not necessarily connote stern or tense feelings but at the same time I decided I needed to make some changes, the universe decided to change things for me also. The past couple of weeks since being home has been a series of losing things, breaking things, finding things, replacing things, and otherwise logistic-ing things that pop up as extra nusances out of no where.

All in all it has been very cumbersome to try and put all my ducks in a row, so to speak. The blog has suffered. But there is much to catch up on! So stay tuned for entries!