What if I.....

Starting tomorrow (or sometime in the near future), what if I:

--became vegan?
--joined the Unitarian Univeralist church (or became part of something else uplifting/enlightened)?
--moved to the country (or at least spent time in nature everyday)?
--practiced yoga everyday (exercised and meditated too)?
--wrote everyday?
--stopped playing classical music for 2 years (or any other written music--and focused instead on aural folk music)?
--used the internet just once a week (including checking email)?
--cooked more, baked more, gardened more, crafted more?
--got to know more neighbors?
--got out of the house more?
--joined a homeschooling group (I know, E's too young, but it's something I'll have to think about sooner or later.

I'm feeling like I need radical change for the better. If I did all these things, would I feel different? More connected? I think social media only enhances my feelings of loneliness--it's a poor substitute for real contact.

If I ate better, would my body feel lighter/younger/cleaner? Would I lessen my chances of contracting major diseases? It's just a little upsetting to hear of more young people (and old people, for that matter) getting cancer and having strokes.

If I did more things rather than thought about them, would my brain change? I've been reading that if you practice something daily (writing, meditation, music, crafting, gardening, etc.) it literally changes the structure of your brain. I like the idea of a daily practice.

Just wanting to feel different. Just wanting the world to look a little different.

Lemon Cake and Tulips, Among Other Things

Happy Spring!

Or anyway, it feels like Spring. Last Sunday, the 14th,  was the first sunny and warm day in what feels like years. And daylight-savings-time made the day feel even more happy and bright.

Mom was in town, and we all went for an afternoon walk. El. wore his little camo shades, which made him look like a Muppet--a cute sleepy Muppet, and I snapped some pictures of the park, trees, and sky (I'll share later). Then mom and I drove to Minneapolis, to Birchbark books to take part in a bookclub meeting/dinner hosted by Louise Erdrich. It was lovely and surreal to be in her presence (she's taller than I expected--very monumental). She was very gracious and friendly, introducing herself to every table and leading a great discussion of William Trevor's Love and Summer.
The cafe served corned beef, cabbage, red potatoes, potato leek soup, savory herb scones, and mint ice-cream atop a brownie. It was a nice way to end the day.

This is a picture of a cake I made for mom's birthday last Wednesday. It was a Martha Stewart recipe for Lemon cake, with lemon curd filling (Joy of Cooking) and stabilized whipped cream frosting with candied lemons and pineapple flowers on top. It turned out really good and dense--not fluffy like a box mix, but really hardy--almost like a pound cake. Amazingly, the layers turned out even--a first for me. The powdered stabilizer, however, that I found in a packet at Lund's, didn't fully dissolve into the frosting, so there were little bits suspended in it. I smoothed it out through a strainer, which solved the problem. This same thing happened when I tried to use gelatin to stabilize the whipped cream. Has anyone had success with this method?

Brother H. sent the flowers--an arrangement of pink and white tulips and some long, magenta orchid-looking flowers. For once I had fresh flowers in the house, which looked so colorful next to the shamrock plant I had bought the day before.

Last Thursday mom and I went to see My Antonia at the Illusion Theater. Other than driving around forever trying to find the darn place (it was on the 8th floor of a historic-looking building) the evening was...wistful. What is it about this novel that I identify so much with? Maybe because it's such a Nebraska story, or that Antonia could have been my great-great-great grandmother, or that the characters share such small yet beautiful moments that stay in your psyche---whatever it is, I couldn't help but weep towards the end when Jim returns to Nebraska to see Antonia for the first time in 20 years.

I felt like the play was well-written, but I couldn't help but wonder why try to tackle this huge, sweeping novel in a period of an hour-and-a-half? Why not write something original that captures the spirit of the book rather than the book itself? Anyway, it was successful, I think--with a minimal set with projections of the prairie (of course) and movable wooden set pieces. I loved the original music. There was a little trio off to the side, and I absolutely loved the woman who played violin and guitar, and then came on stage to play a minor role in her twirly blonde curls and long denim skirt. I thought she was just dressed like that for the spirit of the play--I had no idea she was a character--and I felt like I wanted to be like her.....some sort of urban cowgirl folk musician with blonde curls.....

This last week was really nice--time spent with mom--and some sunny warm days.

Mmmm....Girl Scout Cookies....

Wow, I was really productive today.

I fixed dinner: bulgur and tomatoes, sauteed kale with garlic, steamed yams. Then I swept and mopped the kitchen floor, swept the living room floor, cleaned the upstairs bathroom, put dishes away, and made vegan oatmeal cranberry cookies (does this make it sound like I'm a health nut? I guess I forgot to mention the half-dozen Girl Scout cookies I had for dessert).

And now I'm writing. The day is complete. Although I don't feel ready for bed yet, with all the sugar flowing through my veins. I was thinking earlier---I don't want to see Girl Scout cookies go away, but don't you think it's about time the G. Scouts made their own damn cookies? Have you ever looked at the ingredients on a box of Samoas, or Do-Si-Dos? All I can say is trans fats. Maybe it's okay since they only come out once a year, but I'd kinda like to see the G.S. doing away with this cookie-selling image they have. I mean, is that all they do other than stay at cabins and ride horses? Do they even go camping and learn how to build a fire, pitch a tent, and make a hobo dinner with tin-foil like the Boy Scouts do? What do the B.S. have to sell? Why can't they sell cookies too? I always wanted to be a G.S. but do they do anything cool anymore? I have a Girl Scout book from the 20s, and it looks like not only did they learn the domestic arts, but they also learned Semaphore, Morse Code, wild food foraging, tying bandages for different parts of the body, mountain climbing, orienteering, map-making, and tying knots. Those are the skills I wish I had. I wonder if there is a club for adults who want to be G.S.?

Oh yeah, going back to why I was so productive this evening---I'm hosting a mommy meetup tomorrow, so the house has got to look decent. And I wanted to impress them with homemade cookies. Tomorrow morning I'll make scones to add to the snack table. What is it about scones that are so welcoming? Sometimes I think it would be neat to run a B&B, but really, the only part of it I would truly enjoy is the baking for my guests. I'd make kolaches, Swedish tea rings, Icelandic coffee wreaths, butterhorn rolls, and of course scones--candied ginger scones, currant cream scones, oatmeal anise scones....with cute little butter pats in the shape of animals alongside them on a china plate.

Sunny book club meeting turns blue

I spent a lovely afternoon with my book club friends, discussing The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon over coffee, quiche, shortbread (made by me--my first time ever), and delicious gluten-free lemon lavender cookies. We sat around a rectangular table in a sunny yellow dining room that had exposed wood moldings and a built-in buffet with a mirror. I love turn-of-the-century homes---wood floors, built-in-bookcases, and leaded windows. B's baby boy made cute gurgly yummy noises with each bite of sweet potato and rice cereal. Conversation lasted about three hours, and as usual I probably gabbed too much because I was high on caffeine (and also woefully short on adult conversation these days). The day was warm and sunny and felt almost spring-like. By our next book club meeting, it will be spring.

As usual, we talked about the book for maybe 20 minutes and then lapsed into a deep and somewhat depressing conversation about the state of our low-paying, unsatisfying jobs with little-to-no maternity/paternity leave or other health and family benefits. The burden of student loans came up too---loans for educations that didn't get us where we wanted to go, due to poor academic advising, or non-existent preparation for making it as a humanities major (practical skills like how to write a grant or market your work, etc).

It all made me wonder, why does it have to be this way? Why do we put up with incompetent managers, low wages, lack of decent benefits, and 50 hour or more work-weeks? Because I've been mostly self-employed for the last ten years, I'm not sure I could make it in a typical office-type job. I know I can't make it in retail or food service (been there, done that). I'm also realizing that the career I thought I wanted and trained for in college (school teacher--art education) I really don't want. There's lots of reasons for this, but mostly school culture scares me (there is such a dysfunctional relationship between parents, teachers, students, school staff, school board, and physical school environment that I couldn't possibly see how any school reform would work other than closing down all the schools and starting from scratch from a completely new model) and I'm very much an introvert who works better with people one-on-one (why I enjoy teaching private music lessons).

What if more people were self-employed? Started their own businesses? The reason why my friends stay in their jobs is because it offers stability: a constant paycheck. There's a lot to be said for stability and security (I wish I had more of it myself). But to see so many broken people who aren't using their talents to the fullest (myself included) or who have lost a sense of vocation (me too) is truly disheartening.

What's the answer? I don't know, but in my own life I'm trying to live by the wisdom of "Don't buy things you don't need with money you don't have." It's really hard. But I find that when I sleep on it, I don't go back and buy it the next day.

Also, if we could figure out how to live in villages again (I now know what it means when they said it takes a village to raise a child. I'm also beginning to believe that stay-at-home-alone-with-your-fussy-toddler-motherdom is as unnatural as putting your child in daycare for 40 hours a week. But that's another topic for another day...). If we lived in villages (okay let's call it what it is: a commune) and worked, played, cooked, raised children, etc. together on a small acreage somewhere--I think this would solve a lot of social ills. Yeah, there are lots of problems to living on a commune too, but if you lived by people you actually liked, then it would be fun (I think) and would eliminate the crappy-job syndrome/maternity leave problem that is plaguing many of my Gen X friends.

But today's book club meeting was truly lovely. Time spent with friends over coffee is a too-rare occurrence in my life.

Little Domesticities

I'm so excited about this new blog header picture. The fabric is a toaster cover my Grandma B. from Nebraska made who knows how long ago (the 60's?). Notice the scalloped machine edging. Did this brightly-colored fabric come from a fabulous shift dress? I hope so. The white cow is a little creamer I bought in Portland OR, one of my favorite cities. I love it when people come to stay because I have an excuse to use the little creamer. I take immense pleasure in filling it up with half-n-half and watching the white liquid pour out of its mouth into a steaming cup of coffee.

Spring

Yeah, I changed my template again. I was hoping for a more spring-like color. Spring can't come soon enough.

Remembering Eugene

Lately I've been thinking about Eugene, Oregon. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's part of some 7-year cycle. Maybe it has something to do with the non-stop snow and cold here, and I'm remembering 40-degree, rainy winters (which aren't much better. At least here it's sunny some days).

I feel like while I was there I didn't fully appreciate the place. We were poor. K was going to grad school, I was working at this coffee shop with horrible young managers who made me feel like I was an incompetent 10-year-old who had no idea how to slice oranges or put together a tuna melt sandwich. I was also a nanny for a family where both parents were doctors. I loved the kids, who were in 2nd and 3rd grade at the time, and the parents were very nice, but I always felt a little out of my element, working for the rich people who lived on the hill. They paid me well and were very kind to me, but I couldn't help but feel like some sort of servant when K and I were hired to rake the leaves from their expansive lawn (when their children were perfectly capable of helping out).

Or maybe being poor wasn't the issue. A lot of it had to do with the fact we had just moved far away from close friends and family, and we didn't know a soul in Oregon, other than my cousin and her husband who lived in Portland. It was hard leaving my two fun jobs in the cities--teaching music at a studio and working at a coffee shop, where I met some friends I still have to this day. We'd spend our shift working the NY Times crossword puzzle or debating educational issues while drinking the unlimited coffee that was allowed us during our shifts. The customers in the morning tended to be middle-aged professionals who tipped well and ordered the same things everyday, making our lives easy. I still remember the triple-shot espresso with whipped cream guy, who always wore a red plaid flannel shirt and had major bags under his eyes, and the nice-looking woman who always ordered a chocolate croissant. I got to see the sunrise on my walk there, and leave with at least $20 in tips for the day. Contrast that with the yucky coffee shop in Eugene, which was very corporate and forced its employees to memorize every single drink on the menu which was more extensive than the typical latte, cappuccino, espresso fare. This company had invented variations upon variations of drinks that involved different types of syrups, milks, temperatures, shots, and garnishes. Come on. I refused to memorize it and jumped at the chance to work in the back preparing sandwiches and salads.

But looking back, it's not the lack of money or crappy jobs we had that stands out. What I remember is seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time---how it was enormous and gray and fishy-smelling and windy and cold and rocky and totally overwhelming and beautiful. We walked along the beach and took photos of the sky reflected in pockets of water that lay in zebra patterns across the sand. The ocean was silver, and the sun a pale yellow among gray-purple clouds. Watching the mist roll in, and seals popping their heads out of the water, their eyes large and doe-like, sniffing the air like dogs and then somersaulting back underneath the waves. We would visit the ocean as much as possible because we knew we'd move away from it someday.

What I also loved about Eugene was the abundance of cheap, organic produce; the huge Saturday market which was an explosion of food, herbs, crafts, dreads, and drum circles; the beautiful big library they built while we were living there (I remember being amazed at the book drop, which was an automated electric belt that ate your books when you fed it); and the people we met while we were there. They were all students at the U and from somewhere else, but they were really good people. We sang karaoke in our friend's parent's basement, and I'll never forget K and our friend D singing Rawhide, or friend J writhing on the floor with the mic and screaching the National Anthem. Or the vegetarian cookouts with the singing and playing of guitars, and my friend's collection of Felix the Cat trinkets. The most amazing cup of espresso I've ever had was at a bakery in Eugene. The place looked old-fashioned with its white subway tiles and schoolhouse lights. I went there only once, and it was with another good friend. We sat there and talked in the sunlight on a Sunday morning and nibbled on danishes and sipped our whole-milk lattes.

We also had the best kitchen we've ever had. We lived on the top floor of a duplex with cute sloping ceilings and a view of a butte (the name escapes me--Spencer's butte or something). Our kitchen was huge and white, with abundant counter and storage space, and a large window looking out into the back yard where we watched high school kids smoke in the alley. We slept in the closet of the bedroom, which was shaped like a tent and was big enough for our queen-sized bed. Someone had painted the walls sapphire blue and mold grew on the ceiling, but we had a little square window above our bed to let the breeze in while we slept.

It was in Eugene that I started writing more, and going to different coffee shops to do it--places next to the U where I could be anonymous among the many students--and also close to the U's bookstore which sold tons of notebooks and pens.

It was in Eugene that I had the best flute teacher I've ever had--a doctoral student who was close to my age and wore colorful, flowy hippie shirts, had ridiculously long blond hair, laughed and snorted a lot, and was the best pool player I've ever seen. I can still see her, flying through the fastest scale I've ever heard, in her living room draped with Indian bedspreads and shelves full of music books.

I guess I could go on and on. As I write, I think about more things I enjoyed about Eugene (the green hills, the bright pink rhododendrons, the train ride we took to Portland for a day, the mossy dank forests, the hot springs we drove to, the amazing church I attended that had a water fountain and a large picture window behind the altar looking out onto a field of trees and hills, the late-night vegan bakery, the amazing bike lanes, etc....).

Maybe I'm thinking about Eugene because I don't want my adventures to be over. Now that we've come full circle and are back in MN again, I'm feeling settled for once in my life. Which is what we've been wanting for awhile--a place to put down roots. But it's scary too. Will we have a new place to look forward to again? A new place to explore? New friends to meet? Do these things get less important as you get older?

2009: A Summary

January 14: Elliot was born.

April: We moved back to Minnesota (driving in our car with a baby and a dog).

June/July: Went to see a dear friend who was dying of cancer--age 32; then went to her funeral.

August: Moved into our new house.

September: Hear news that my father-in-law has TB, and that we all have to get tested.

November 4: K fired from new job he just got in April.

November 30: I came down with H1N1.

December 1: My 33rd b-day.

December 22: Drive home to NE for Christmas with family. Slippery, scary roads. Still coughing.

December 22-27: Lovely holiday with family.

December 28: Drive back to MN: some slippery patches; cars upside-down in ditches from the
days before, during the blizzard.

December 31: A quiet New Year's Eve at home: knitting, Flight of the Conchords, reading, tarot.
I made K stay up with me until midnight. Then we went to bed.

Here's to 2010---a hopefully very uneventful year.

Obsessed with Books

Went to the library today, and as usual, checked out more books than I can read. I'm already reading: Punished by Rewards by Alfie Kohn (amazing. it's blowing my mind!); Shop Class as Soul Craft by Matthew B. Crawford (just read the first few pages); Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout; short stories by Dorothy Parker; Gilda Joyce: Psychic Investigator by Jennifer Allison (YA novel); and Our Babies, Ourselves by Meredith Small (wow. so interesting. making me question our Western ways of raising children). Today I checked out 3 cookbooks (Bon Appetit/Japanese cooking/1950's casserole recipes), 2 kids books, Gilda Joyce (found randomly in juv. section, a book on photographing children, and Real Simple Solutions. From the CSC library, I've checked out New Art City by Jed Perl and two books on music composition by Hindemith and Schoenberg. Also: Sleepytime Songs, The Sweater Chop Shop, and Altered Book Collage. 

Why do I do this? Do I have an unhealthy obsession with books? Are books a stand-in for real-life activities? Will I always just be an armchair traveler?

 I keep thinking--there's a book out there that's going to change my life--so I check out 30 at a time to find the perfect one for the moment. But most of the time the books go back, unread. Then I think, what's the point of learning about new concepts and ideas from books if I don't share them with others? What's the point of collecting and buying books if they're just going to outlive me? Do I underline telltale passages for future generations so they know what I was like or what I was into? Do I write essays about my favorite books? I love being surrounded by books--I love knowing that I could look up 1960's interior decorating ideas or set up projects around Girl Scout merit badges or reread this passage from Minor Characters by Joyce Johnson: 

"I saw my first tenement apartment when I was twenty--top floor of a six-story walkup in Yorkville. Four very small rooms leading into each other railroad style, cracked walls and old tin ceilings that sagged a little. My best friend Elise, who had just moved in there, had painted all of it white, even the linoleum on the floor. What I remember is the amazing light in that place, how it flooded in as if there was no real separation between inside and outside, and everything--what little there was--seemed to be set afloat in it. A light that was almost Mediterranean, giving the scarred, patched walls a chalky thickness like the walls of Greek villas, beatifying the mattress on the floor, the Salvation Army table, the chairs carried in from the street. 

"I saw that same extraordinary light in the early apartments of other friends. Why there? The defiant absence of anything over the windows, I guess. Maybe it was just as simple as that."

Do you do that? Just reread your favorite passages over and over again?

Now if I could only apply myself to other areas of life with that much zeal (from reading), I'd be very productive. Reading is a passive activity, but it gives me lots of ideas for active activities. But I forget that other people can't hear the ideas in my head. How do I make them real? 

Mazarinkakor

Why oh why do I order French Toast every time I go out to brunch? It was delicious (fat white bread, bananas, sliced almonds, powdered sugar, butter and maple syrup, alongside homemade sausage). But after I've eaten it I realize I just ate a third of a loaf of bread and several tablespoons of sugar and fat. I'm trying to cut back on sugar, flour products and animal fat, but I'm not having much luck. Especially with the sugar part. 

Then, an hour after leaving The Modern I went to book club, where I ate a slice of homemade apple pie and a few of my Swedish almond/chocolate bars (made from a book I found at Goodwill: The Great Scandinavian Baking Book by Beatrice Ojakangas. I love this introduction to the cookie section: "A little table covered with a creamy white, embroidered, lace-edged linen cloth. Coffee cups, a little larger than demitasses, set on saucers; the saucers set on plates with coffee spoons nestled next to the cups and pretty napkins pulled through the handles. A plate of three kinds of buttery cookies in the middle of the table. This scene was set for a simple afternoon coffee during our visit in Norway."  I'd love to be in that scene now, eating mandelflarn, kniplingskager, and mazarinkakor, sipping espresso, wearing my blue and white Nordic sweater with the silver frogs, and looking out over snow-capped mountains....).

Seriously, what do you recommend for a sugar addiction? I'm really not addicted to anything else, and I suppose everyone needs a vice, but this is getting ridiculous.

After book club I met up with old college friends Elaine (of Seattle) and Jen (of NYC) at the Caribou Coffee in the Graviidae Commons in downtown Minneapolis. I had never been there before, but from the second floor of the coffee shop you look down onto Nicollet mall from a large picture window. It's one of the best people-watching places I've been. For a few minutes I watched this woman smoking a cigarette as she sat on a bench. She had wild, wind-blown red hair, was 50-something, wore a long gray cable-knit sweater with short sleeves, jeans, and silver bangles and several rings. I watched her watching other people, then pointing down the street-- giving directions to two teenage girls wearing head scarves, and then talking to someone across the street--someone unseen to me, so it looked like this woman was acting in a play. Then she crossed the street to talk to this person and was gone from sight for a few seconds until she reappeared, stubbed out her cigarette, and walked into Marshall's. It was all very Rear Window.

Missing the Point of Human Existence

Another list (because I'm a lazy writer).

1. I feel like my writing skills have gone down the tube, because I haven't had to write much, in terms of school papers. I also used to be an avid journal-writer, but I got sick of my own naggy voice and the lists! I wrote in them (lazy). But oh, if I could write a blog a day, plus a letter to a friend (short emails have given way to even shorter facebook comments), plus a few creative lines in a notebook, I think I would be much happier, if I could get over my laziness. 

2. Where does laziness come from? Is it genetic? Environmental? I'm convinced that Psychology, Neuroscience and Physics can explain everything. I think I spent so much time being lazy as a child (all I did was read and watch t.v.) that it built pathways in my brain for "laziness" and now trying to change those pathways is difficult. And objects at rest want to stay at rest/objects in motion want to stay in motion. I think we will always choose the path of least resistance. So in order to change these pathways I'd have to practice not being lazy for a set amount of time everyday for a month (isn't that how long it takes to form a new habit?). I know I can do this--I've changed my behavior in other ways lately: putting clothes away after I wear them instead of draping them over a chair in my room (I got rid of the chair). I've also been watching less t.v. too.

3. Yes! Less T.V.! Believe it or not it was an Oprah episode on T. V. that made me think twice about my habit. There was an episode about simplifying your life, and one suggestion was to create physical and mental space: i.e. watching less t.v. and cleaning out clutter. So for one day I didn't watch t.v. and it was great! I listened to This American Life online instead (four hours worth, which I guess is another time-sucking activity, but not as bad as t.v.), and listened to music (easy activities with a newborn). Also, brother H's recent visit introduced me to the wonders of watching t.v. shows/movies selectively on Hulu and Netflix. So now I am watching less t.v. (maybe 0-1 hours per day), and listening more. I found myself getting antsy watching my favorite thursday night shows (The Office, 30 Rock, Kath/Kim) last week because they weren't as interesting as listening to T.A.L., which I think is better for my ADD brain then television...

Also, since I have a kid now, I'm more aware of the negative messages/images on t.v. I can't stand the noise of commercials (stop shouting at me, Billy Mays!) or seeing a dead, bloody body each time I turn the channel. What does this do to our psychological state (subconsciously?). Also, I'm convinced that the rapid images and loud sounds on t.v. can cause ADD/ADHD/and autism.

4. I think this is a good time of year to create space. I love Lent because it's a time of reflection, and trying to eliminate the superfluous junk from your life. Every year I try to do something Lenten, whether it's reading some sort of spiritual-themed book or trying to eliminate a bad habit (I never quite do well with these, but it's the thought that counts, right?). I haven't missed Ash Wednesday mass in the last 5 years because I go to the Gonzaga student mass at 10pm, which has been led by this amazing priest there, who gave the best sermons I've ever heard. He basically recycled the same sermon every year, and every year I would take notes in my journal because they were that interesting and uplifting (I miss mass most of the year b/c of bad priests/sermons). He said things like "To fast means to 'fasten' yourself to something you enjoy, or something that will make your life better." There was no fire and brimstone, no guilt in his sermon, just uplifting ideas. The idea he was getting across was the same as Oprah's: if you eliminate stupid stuff from your life you create space for better and greater things.

5. Speaking of Oprah and Lent, I've been skimming Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose. I've been skimming it because a lot of it repeats itself (okay we get it: the ego is bad!) and some of it is just made-up b.s. with no research behind it (okay if you're a spiritual advisor, I guess). But I've written down a few things that I think are right on, such as his definition of sin (which I've always thought was a problematic word. I think religious institutions want you to think sinning equals eliminating the fun things from life such as dancing, drinking, having sex, swearing, etc.). But here's the best and most satisfying definition I've ever heard: 

(from Greek): "To miss the mark, as an archer who misses the target, so to sin means to miss the point of human existence. It means to live unskillfully, blindly, and thus to suffer and cause suffering" (pg. 9).

Wow, isn't this ironic? He seems to be describing the history and present state of the Catholic Church (and other world religions as well). 

I also like this:

"Whatever action you take in a state of inner resistance (negativity) will create more outer resistance, and the universe will not be on your side: life will not be helpful....

When you yield internally, when you surrender, a new dimension of consciousness opens up. If action is possible or necessary your action will be in alignment with the whole and supported by creative intelligence" (pg. 58).

Okay, as a side note I have to admit I read cheesy books by Wayne Dyer and Sonia Choquette, but this statement above is similar to quotes I have written down from the above new-age authors. Here's something I wrote in my notebook from WD's The Power of Intention and Your Heart's Desire by SC: 

"You attract what you focus on."

Meaning, if you focus on the negative aspects of your life (I'll never get my dream job/house/spouse...) you attract that negative energy from the universe and you will never find your dream job/house/spouse. But if you focus and imagine in your mind's eye positive things (like visualizing your perfect house or state of health, etc) you will attract those things.

To me, this makes a lot of sense. I'm realizing that during the past few years I've been a negative person (again, I think t.v. adds to my negative emotions). But since baby E (I swear I visualized having a baby and it worked! I was convinced for a while I was infertile....) I've tried to be more positive, even if I feel tired or crappy or crabby. 

My last post was very negative and crabby. I'm also realizing that my ego gets in the way a lot. I think if I focus less on the product (making great art/publishing/showing at galleries...) and more on the process, it won't matter if my work never leaves the house. Rushmore is one of my favorite movies because of what Max Fisher says towards the beginning: "Find something you love to do and do it for the rest of your life. For me that's going to Rushmore." Now I have to find my Rushmore.

Anyway, I've babbled for too long. These are just some of the things I've been thinking about lately.

In a Parallel Universe I Would....

So a few weeks ago I thought I solved the work/stay-at-home debate. But when you need money, what do you do?

We're doing fine, actually, but I want to feel like I'm contributing to the family income. I know I contribute in non-monetary ways (like taking care of cute little E), but I would feel better if I could help with bills, diapers, and dog food (etc.). Some of it too is wanting to stay involved, to be on some sort of career track. But what career track is that? I've spent the last ten years lazing around--not working hard enough to be a better private lesson teacher (I feel like I'm only operating at 10% of my potential), not trying hard enough during grad school (out of several student performance hours and composition recitals I only prepared one of my pieces for performance. Sad! Most of that came from the fear of putting my music out there)---not trying hard enough during grad school and therefore not getting all the teaching experience I wanted--teaching experience that is crucial for wanting to teach college-level courses later.

How have I futzed away 10 years? How do I get out of this rut? 

I had this weird vision last night while watching "Me and You and Everyone We Know" (I liked it! It was weird--I had to watch it twice), which features a woman who does bizarre digital art and tries to submit her work to a contemporary art museum (and succeeds). I tried to picture in my mind what my art would look like if the New York Times did an article about it. I visualized the article, and saw my name in print, but I knew deep down that this could happen only in a parallel universe--or with a crazy amount of hard work, risk-taking, good timing, luck, and meeting the right people. Have you been in a position where you've seen art or writing and you're like, "I can write better than that!" Or, "God, I'll never be able to write/make art like that!" I feel like that's where I am--knowing I can create something beautiful but not knowing how to get there from here, or knowing if it's worthwhile. Seriously, how many writers and artists and composers can the world handle? Don't we have too many (bad ones) all ready? Is it worth the hassle of writing something and trying to get it published (which may never happen)? Does a piece of art not really exist unless someone looks at it, reads it, or listens to it? What if you just made stuff, and no one, outside of yourself ever saw it/heard it/read it? Should you try to sell your art or just make it? Are you an artist if your paintings never leave the house?

I'm thinking about these issues because it would be great to sit here and write/make art while baby sleeps and send it off to get it published and get a nice little paycheck to help buy the dog food and diapers. But even if I write and write until my eyeballs fall out and my fingers cramp up--I'm not guaranteed any money for my hard work. What are your options as a stay-at-home mom? What are your options for staying on some sort of career track? 

The Sorceress

On Friday the 13th I managed to sneak out of the house for a few hours to go to an Evelyn Glennie concert. K had ordered tickets about a year ago, before little E came into existence; K stayed home with the little munchkin while a girlfriend and I went out to see the show.

Many of you may know about my E.G. obsession. Ever since seeing Touch the Sound, a documentary about her, I've been dying to see her perform live. E.G. is a virtuoso percussionist from Scotland who also happens to be profoundly deaf. If you haven't seen this film, Netflix it straight away. When I taught my humanities class a few years ago, I showed clips of this film to the students. Afterwards a student came up to me and said this movie made her want to do something with her life (it makes me feel that way too).

I was hoping for a 5-hour percussion orgy onstage, but alas--she only played on two pieces with the Symphony. The pieces were amazing though--one was Webern's Langsamer Satz (which wasn't as atonal as I was expecting it to be) and Schwantner's Concerto for Percussion and Orchestra (which was amazing a haunting but too short--I thought she had just ended the first movement when the audience started clapping). 

She came out in an elegant, plain sapphire blue dress and artistic-looking necklace; her hair was long and silvery and she wore funky glasses. She plays barefoot so she can hear the vibrations through her feet. Her playing was so powerful--she was like a sorceress drawing out energy from the earth through large bass drums, the marimba, crotales, gongs, the vibraphone, and other miscellaneous percussion. It was also incredibly perfect--every flam and shake and rattle was crisp and clear, like what tap dancers strive for. The marimba part in the concerto was crazy--super fast and repetitive over quite a few measures. I wondered--how is it that her arms don't fall off? Or stop or lag from exhaustion? But they were supple and elastic--almost supernatural. 

The most beautiful thing about it all was the way she used her whole body while playing. It was all like a dance--visually and aurally stunning. She was amazing to watch and listen to. That's what I've noticed about truly great musicians--they use their whole bodies. At the university I attended I was friends with a Japanese girl who was a piano performance major. She was only 22 I think, but watching her perform was like watching a much older and experienced pianist. She moved with the music, throwing her whole torso into Beethoven's allegros, her arms floating during the adagios.  I had never seen anyone play that way, especially someone around my own age. And I think her movements made a difference in her playing--she had the most nuanced and beautiful sound out of any student (or professional for that matter,) I'd seen live. If I could learn how to use my body like that, I think my own playing would improve greatly. Instead I feel stiff and often have problems with sore wrists and back. How do they do it?

Is it too late for me to become a percussionist? What I love about it is that you aren't limited to one instrument, but you have so many different ones to choose from--the melodic  instruments (marimba, vibraphone, etc.), and the pitched/non-pitched membranophones (I think that's what they're called). You also have household objects and your body to use as an instrument. There are also limitless objects to strike the instruments--mallets, wands, sticks, hands....

My percussion instructor at the university didn't take me seriously when I told him I wanted to start over as a percussionist. I felt such power holding mallets--similar to how I feel when I hold a paintbrush. Maybe that's what holding a magic wand is like. 

What I was also thinking during her performance--she could kick any guy's ass if it came down to a drum-off. She's faster, more graceful, and more powerful. I do worry that girls are discouraged from playing the more loud, aggressive, fun, percussion instruments in schools. In our percussion ensemble the girls were almost always assigned the triangle or shakers--never the quad drums or the snare. Maybe that was just my perception (I was only in the ensemble for a year)--but I do wonder if girls are discouraged more than encouraged to play these instruments.

Anyway, check out Touch the Sound--she's amazing.

Eyebrows!

Baby is sleeping. Dog is sleeping.

A quick random post:

1. At the dentist's office yesterday, the hygienist told me I have a geographic tongue. I wonder if this says anything about my own tendencies to wander?

2. Right now I'm listening to Geographer. Gorgeous music--the male lead singer has the most beautiful voice I've heard in a band. Also Elliot likes it--I think that's why he's been sleeping so long. 

The last show our band, The Triumphant Returns, played was a show in Seattle with Geographer. That's how I heard about them. I got a chance to chat with the lead singer, who was very nice. I can't remember much about the conversation but he did tell me the drummer went to the Berklee School of Music and that they are from San Francisco.

 

That's what I miss most about being in a band--talking to the other bands you play with. This night was especially great for talking to other musicians and audience members. The bar was packed and sweaty, and I was tired but it was a great way to say goodbye to the Triumphant Returns.

At this show, back in June? I got hit on by a young 20-something guy from Cornish School of the Arts. He must have not noticed my ring finger or slightly protruding belly. I had to enlighten him on my status. He was cute and kinda nice yet kinda icky--he only talked to me when his girlfriend went to the bathroom. He also dissed Spokane ("why would anyone want to live there?"). But when he found out my matronly status he was a lot nicer and wished me well.

3. I'm obsessed with eyebrows now. I picked up the February issue of Vogue at the grocery store, which I never do--I'm usually not into that arrogant, over-the-top fashion stuff, but for some reason I started noticing models' eyebrows and how lovely they looked (weird!). I'm now growing out my poorly tweezed eyebrows so I can get a "professional" eyebrow wax. 

I'm also watching Gossip Girl on the CW channel--not for the writing or content (which is pretty stupid actually--it's about rich teens who go to an elite Manhattan private school)--but for the well-waxed eyebrows and great fashion. I know! What's wrong with me?

4. Speaking of fashion, I've also been looking at The Sartorialist. I feel like I want to be more stylish, and I'm learning that it's all about your accessories: a great (big) handbag, a fabulous necklace or bracelet that provides a focal point, crazy-looking sandals or boots, a scarf draped artistically around your shoulders, a simple haircut, and excellent eyebrows! 

5. For details on my labor/birth, and on the little one write or call me. Too much info to write here. 

6. I'm enjoying listening to music and watching T.V. with the sound off. The New Yankee Workshop and Bob Ross on PBS are excellent for this purpose. Also, we have a new movie channel here, that plays super random movies that no one has heard of ( a ski movie from the 80's, a movie with Ruth Gordon punching a man dressed as a gorilla in the crotch, many Burt Reynolds movies, etc.). This has also been entertaining.

7. It's probably a good thing newborns are so challenging--otherwise we wouldn't want them to grow up. They are so cute and snuggly....and difficult.

8. I'm wondering about the stay-at-home/go-back-to-work debate that mothers have. I don't actually think this dichotomy exists anymore for me.  Your children are babies for such a short amount of time--it seems like a drop in the bucket in the ocean of your lifespan. I want to hold Elliot as much as possible before he is too old and big, which will happen soon I'm afraid.

9. Reading: Best American Short Stories; Sounding the Inner Landscape (a book on music as medicine), Ted Kooser's Delights and Shadows.

10. The further away from school I get the more I love music. I mean really love it.

The last posting of 2008!

Ah snow.

Snow, snow, more snow. And then some. 

How many inches have accumulated here in the last 2 weeks? Fifty inches or more? I've lost track. All I know is that I've been trapped in the house, afraid to venture out. Spokane's plowing system isn't the most efficient, and people here don't like to shovel their sidewalks. I have taken a few slow waddly walks and taken the bus downtown twice (on Christmas Eve and today for a few hours). But mostly I've been watching cooking shows on PBS, Oprah, and misc. bad yet strangely compelling shows on the CW--Gossip Girl/90210/Privileged. I've also been crocheting, baking, and reading too: Ellen Klages' The Green Glass Sea and White Sands, Red Menace (thanks J! Love them). Baking: I made aniseplatzchen, pfeffernuse, janhagels (all from the Great Cookies cookbook by Carole Walter) and orange rolls for Christmas brunch. The aniseplatzchen was amazing and also a sort of culinary mystery: you whip 3 eggs with sugar for 50 minutes straight and you come out with these merengue-y cookies that separate into two layers--a crunchy outer layer and a soft inner layer. Amazing! But I don't recommend them unless you have a stand mixer.

A few interesting things to note: a few weeks ago, when we were walking Zuzu before the snowstorm hit, as we were walking by a neighbor's house, we noticed a strange sight: a baby kangaroo was bouncing around their fenced-in yard, wearing a red t-shirt. We thought--what the hell? It has to be illegal to own a kangaroo here. So we contacted Spokanimal, just in case (these same people keep a big black lab chained up outside all the time, with a tiny little doghouse--poor guy). Turns out that this kangaroo is known as a "Wallaroo" and is somewhat legal? as long as you register it? I don't know--sounds weird to me (what is that poor baby doing now with all the snow?). Zuzu was very curious--it's not a cat or a dog or a squirrel or a bird--so what the hell is it? 

Also: a bunch of mysterious white feathers strewn all over our back yard....(before the snow).

What else? Just waiting for this wiggly baby to squirm out.

Europe will be more fun without you

"For me, 'high' is a place--and sometimes I want to go there." 

So started Rick Steves' talk about the legalization of marijuana--a lecture entitled "Marijuana: It's Time for a Conversation."

How could I not go to this? It was free and featured my favorite PBS travel guide--someone I had spent late nights with in Rome, Paris, Croatia--someone who wears his signature black backpack and pleated khaki pants, his George H.W. wire-rimmed glasses and white tennis shoes with such sweetness and nerdiness. I was a little daunted by the long line outside the "Bing" theater on a cold October evening, not wanting to have to stand, as a pregnant lady, during the lecture. But I got a great seat in the balcony and settled down to hear my favorite travel guru talk about drugs. We watched a really cheesy infomercial-like film about decriminalizing marijuana, which featured Rick, of course, and it took all of my will-power to keep from giggling--the earnest looks on the actors'/audience members' faces, the clips from that 30's movie, Refer Madness, and a graphic of a spinning U.S. Constitution, which was written on--you guessed it--hemp paper! hurtling towards me on the screen. Wow! I think this film is online, if you really want to watch it (and giggle in the privacy of your own home).

But the best part was hearing Rick talk about the creative solutions to drug problems in Europe. He said a lot of public bathrooms in Zurich have blue lights, so drug addicts can't see their veins. He also said there are heroin maintenance clinics, where addicts can get their drugs safely and speak to a nurse or counselor at the same time. In France, apparently there are more boys than girls who use marijuana, because, the government thinks, boys are really afraid to talk to girls so they need something to relax them. The government decided to solve this problem by funding flirting seminars--to help boys hone their asking-out skills. 

He also used the word "shitfaced" when referring to the keggers that Scandinavian parents throw for their teenaged children about to graduate from high school (I wrote in my journal: I can't believe that R.S. just said "shitfaced"!).

I learned a lot--including that I love R.S. more than ever. He is really funny and intelligent in real life, a great speaker, and not a complete dork like he is on his show (but that's another reason why I love him). 

Here are some other notable quotes from his lecture:

"I try to find creative ways to get the word 'marijuana' in my guide books."

"There's nothing innovative about 'just say no.' 

(in reference to the 1980's war on drugs and the DARE program)

"Europe will be more fun without you."

(what R.S. thinks but doesn't say to an old man threatening to stop buying his guide books if he continues to support the legalization of marijuana).

I had to leave during the question and answer portion. The audience was filled with a combination of elderly folks interested in the medical uses of marijuana and a bunch of college-aged pot-heads who would go up to the microphone and, in that drug-induced stoner drawl, meander on an on about the merits of marijuana and how beautiful it is, etc. etc. The old people would start their diatribes with: "I have this problem with (fill in the blank some medical condition) and my doctor says (blah blah blah) and if I only had access to medical marijuana (etc.).....

And, of course he ended his talk with, "Happy Travels!" 

Turkey to-do list

Hello again.

I've decided to start posting again, because there have been some funny/interesting things that I've experienced lately and want to write about. Also, I'm dying to write about issues I've been having with piano lessons. However, right now I need to get to my Thanksgiving to-do list:

1. Make pumpkin pie.

2. Make porcini-onion stuffing.

3. Make citrus-shallot vinagrette for salad.

4. Wash dishes.

5. Vacuum floor.

6. Eat a Mozart marzipan.

The Weather Report from Spokane

Is it possible to tire of gorgeous 80-degree sunny weather? 

yes. 

I want to remember what rain is like.

Found Poem

tracks in snow
Boot prints, car prints,
cat prints--
animal and machine--
Crazy Jean
Asian girl
(angel?)
messenger?

(A list on a piece of paper in my handwriting found between the pages of Zilpha Keatley Snyder's The Headless Cupid. I have no idea what these things were referring to...).

Navigating the Imagination (and this blog post)

I have been super over-stimulated lately, and I think it's because of all these new things that have been coming into my life lately. For example:

1) We finally got a new (used) couch. Super cheap on craigslist and oh so comfy and huge--I couldn't believe it. I had no idea how immense modern furniture is. We've only had 1960's era thrift store couches, and to see this monster canvas slate blue sofa and chair makes me giggle and want to build a nice cozy blanket fort. The ottoman itself is about the same size as a child's single bed. All I want to do now is lounge around, writing on my Levenger lap desk and reading my amazing new Joseph Cornell book, which incidentally matches the sofa (thanks KW!!).

2) Lynda Roscoe Hartigan's Joseph Cornell: Navigating the Imagination, a gift that found its way on my doorstep on Monday. The paper Cornellian mountain on the cover reminds me of the mountains I see in the distance when I drive towards Coeur D'Alene, which makes me remember that I actually live by gorgeous rugged topography (I forget sometimes because I can't see them from my house). This book is truly amazing--I've only managed to read the first few pages, but already Hardigan is discussing the very issues that interest me most about Cornell: how his art was inspired by enchanted wanderings throughout Manhattan during the 20's-50's. Also, there are many photos and images of his older collage art from the 30's that I've never seen before.

I can't help but think of how I got interested in Cornell in the first place. It was during the J-term of 1998 when four of us girls (you know who you are!) took the train to Chicago from St. Paul--my first train ride and excursion to the windy city. All I remember of that trip is the drinking of wine coolers in our hotel room, smoking gold-filtered Fantasia Lights on the steps of the Art Institute by the bronze lions, drooling over a cute waiter at Bennigan's across the street, giggling at sailors (it felt just like a musical), admiring all the revolving doors downtown (even Walgreen's had one!), and discovering Cornell's art in the Surrealist wing of the Institute.

I was alone--I had wandered far from my friends, who were by that time waiting for me in the cafe downstairs. I remember I almost missed the Cornell exhibit--suffering from glazed-over gallery eye, I was halfway through it when I became aware of what I was looking at. It was a strange moment of awakening--like I had found something I had lost, and hadn't realized it was missing until I discovered it. His work was so small, like a whisper, that I felt like the first person to really see it. It seemed like suddenly all my wistful thoughts and longings had found a form, and that I was looking at mysterious objects not in a museum, but in a dusty attic in an old crumbling Victorian house. I was so excited about his work that as soon as we got back to St. Paul, I gushed to my art history professor that I felt like I finally found my calling--to be a Cornell scholar. Well, I'm not a J.C. scholar (yet) but this book makes the fourth book in my J.C. library, so I feel like an imaginary amateur DIY scholar....

Anyway, I can't wait to digest the rest of the book.

3) Speaking of books, I'm trying to get through Rohinton Mistry's A Fine Balance for book club, but the going is slow. I have no objection to the book per se, but so far only horrible, depressing things have happened, so I don't feel much drive to finish. The writing is nice and I'm learning a lot about the history of India during the 20th century through different character's eyes, but I'm a little bored with it to be perfectly honest.

Just finished the His Dark Materials trilogy. Loved it! I want more though. I feel like the last book ended with a big question mark. Won't see the movie because I've heard it just makes you mad if you've read the book.

4) Preparing the house's interiors for new wall paint. Finally! No more black trim in the bathroom (what kind of crazy person paints their bathroom black??).

5) New private piano students. Yay!

6) New music ideas: just got a new 3-octave synth that has lots of neat-o electronic sounds on it. I just have to figure out how it works....

7) A sad note: Zuzu got bitten by an aggressive dog at dog camp on Tuesday. She has some nasty, bloody wounds that the vet stitched up, so the poor baby has to wear a lampshade on her head. It's the saddest sight ever. I can tell she's starting to feel a little better though, because she wanted me to chase her around the backyard while she carried an ice chip in her mouth.

8) Spokane is finally awakening from a deep snow-induced slumber. Because S-town has practically no budget for snow removal, the streets were a mess for a whole two weeks, and lazy ass-faces did not even attempt to clear their sidewalks (except for us-- well K actually). Schools were canceled for a whole week the end of January. It was actually kind of fun to drive by Manito park and see the little puffy figures of kids in snow suits and moon boots sled down the hill. But now, it's gradually melting, and I feel my S.A.D. disappearing.

9) Cut off a few inches of shaggy hair (now I'm back to the flapper look); Found two gorgeous Banana Republic tops at a thrift store (one is silk cashmere!): two examples of how I'm gradually replacing the dumpy high-school look for a more 30-something wardrobe.

10) Taking piano lessons from a guy whose grandma played for silent films in the 20s in Seattle.

11) Feeling renewed from Christmas vacation in NE. It was the first time I've been home in 5 years (sad, isn't it?). I had a most lovely and amazing time. The highlights include: leisurely 3-hour reading marathons with brother H (he was in a Harry Potter frenzy; me in a Golden Compass one); all-day baking extravaganza on Christmas eve, listening to some good tunes, also with H; opening gifts with the family in our pajamas; hanging out in Mom's art room, typing away on my grandma's 1970s yellow electric typewriter; dancing to a live blues band with funny and tipsy stepfather in C-town (I swear the lead blues singer was Jeremy Irons); visiting my grandmas; dancing to Wham at a high school friend's party in Lincoln (and later discussing the merits of a McDonald's filet-o-fish), and playing Rock Band (the video game) at G and C's small mansion until 5 in the morning with old and dear friends.

12) Two friends having babies this spring. My babysitting services have been offered, and I'm picturing myself making them cute little homemade stuffed animals.

13) Check out my new links. I love the layout of Posy Gets Cozy. She's a crafter from Portland, OR, my most favoritist city ever.

(This long blog is what happens when you don't post for two months).