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Where has the time gone? In preparation for what promises to be an awesome weekend, involving houseguests and assorted New York shenanigans, I've been parked at the computer for a week now. It's always surprising what you can get done when you have to, isn't it? A bit agonizing while you're in the middle of it all, but worth it and then some when you're rewarded with three nights and two days of nothing but fun.
Weekend = good.
My mom's dad passed away when I was seven, so my memories of him are fuzzy. I remember him napping on the dining room floor with a newspaper over his face, and him taking us out to the fields in his old green truck. I can remember the sound of his voice.
At this time of year about five years ago my mom, brother and I went to visit our relatives in North Dakota for a long weekend. In the course of whatever it is family does when it gets together, someone brought out Grandpa's old farming vest. It had been hanging in the basement of Grandma's house, just like the rest of his things, for almost 20 years. It was a big suede and wool monstrosity with a faint tinge of '60s hippie to it - a fitting vest for a man who had NOT A TRACE of hippie in him.
Someone ended up trying on the vest and discovered a handful of corn kernels in one of the pockets. Dried corn, years and years old, put there by Grandpa some fall in the late '80s when he was checking out the crop. Right there, in the pocket. Like a still-smoking pipe or a half-drunk cup of coffee.
Happy October.
I'm sitting on my couch and I'm trying to read (this is yesterday). The three articles are a little dry, but they're interesting and I really want to absorb what they're saying. The problem: I cannot for the life of me focus. Can you develop ADD as an adult?
Here are just a few vehicles that passed through the stray thought superhighway in the course of about 15 minutes:
The mantel looks kind of empty. What should I put up there?
I should make that "dessert lasagna" recipe sometime. I think it has ricotta cheese in it.
Ooh, or I could make a ricotta pie. I wonder if my parents would like ricotta pie.
I need to call the public library and see if they're looking for volunteers.
Bean casserole for dinner?
What about lunches for next week?
If all my fall/winter shoes are leather, what do I do when it rains/snows?
What a great shoe rack. I can't believe someone put it out on the curb.
If I put my feet on the floor will a centipede run out and climb my legs?
The coffee table: crappy or shabby chic?
I should wash that blanket.
I'd rather be reading John Cheever right now.
Hey, I could write a blog post about all these.
Maybe you, like me, live in an apartment. Alternatively, maybe you can remember living in one. Being in such close proximity can be tough, right? Especially in the summer when everyone's windows are open. You can hear TVs, and people talking and fighting three floors up. Additionally, you know they can hear you. In all your glory. They probably cringe while you sing off-key to embarrassing Kenny Rogers songs and judge you when you yell, shrew-like, at your softspoken husband. And don't even get me started on babies. I dread the day I will live above/below/next to a family with a new baby. Although of course I will understand.
Tonight though, while hunched over the Anglo American Cataloging Rules, I heard a woman singing somewhere nearby. She was clearly practicing some sort of voice exercise, because she kept singing the same opera-style tune over and over. It gave me a little thrill.
It's getting colder at night now, and we're probably going to close our windows in the next couple weeks. I welcome the privacy. I also hope that before it's too late I hear something unexpected, like a tuba at dusk.
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Have I ever mentioned that Oliver works for a bank? One of those big ones, on that street that's been having so much trouble lately? He doesn't work for one of those banks, you know, the ones that have been catching fire all over the news, but still. It's a little scary. Especially since he's too new to the U.S. workforce to qualify for unemployment, and his insurance is currently covering us both. Not that there's any immediate danger. In fact, there doesn't seem to be. But still. It's still a bank.
My life so far has been an incredible run of good luck. Everyone in my immediate family has always been healthy and stable. I've never had to worry about food or shelter, and I have never come up against some horrible truth that proved to me that life is not what I was led to believe it would be. With all the tragedies and crippling disappointments in the world, how can I be slotted for effortless existence? I can't be. It just can't be possible. Everyone has to pay their share of the dues, right? Is this economic crisis my time to open up the wallet and pay up what I owe?
I hope this doesn't sound too dark. I'm not crying myself to sleep or sewing dresses out of flour sacks. I'm just thinking.
When I lived in Chicago, I had a car. It was a dusty blue Yaris, and I parked it every day after work on Montrose. Montrose was a couple blocks from my apartment on Buena, and unlike lovely, leafy Buena (pictured above), it was a little gritty. It was the border line of a tougher neighborood, and I generally tried to avoid it after dark. One morning I came out to my car and noticed a large scratch. To be more accurate, it was a key mark. My car had been keyed, and a three-foot line was etched along the driver's side. Once the anger passed, I was able to see the vandalism in a more symbolic light. Let's say Montrose is the world, and Buena and the Yaris are my life. The world can be nasty; I've seen enough CNN to know that. So far, I've managed to spend my days on Buena. If I park on Montrose though, and I'm a part of Montrose, is it reasonable to expect my car to remain untouched? There are a lot of keys out there, and slim jims and people who know how to hotwire Toyotas. Again, I hope I don't sound too grim. I'm just wondering.
The way my schedule came together, I currently have nothing scheduled on Fridays. No class, no work, no nothing. It's been wonderful. I get up in the morning, sit down to study, then continue studying as the day slips by and the sun sets. I've got a ton of work to do, but being able to do it from the comfort of my own home makes it less than work, somehow.
One of my diversions is listening to the kids and parents that pass by our place on their way to school. We live right next door to an enormous school, and it seems like kids ages 6-18 go there. Since it's still nice out and I have our windows open, I can hear snippets of conversations as people pass by. Eavesdropping is so much fun! I jotted down a few of my favorite exchanges:
older girl (screaming): You hate the color blue!
younger boy: No I don't.
older girl (still screaming): Yes you do!
father/adult supervision: It' s a song. (raps) "Put ya honey on, thug it on out." Say it.
little boy (4? 5?), feeling bad: I can't remember it.
f/as: All right, little man. C'mon, let's cross the street.
girl 1: You ain't got beautiful hair!
girl 2, weakly: Yes I do!
girl 1: Nah, it's just jacked up! (cackles wildly)
Good lord, has a week gone by? Have I really made the transition from normal adult to student? I still feel like I don't completely have my wits about me, but that should change soon. I hope.
It was a hectic week. Definitely good, but hectic. It didn't help that I spent my last day of "summer vacation" driving home from a trip to Canada, got home at 3am, then got up at 7am the next day for class (the photo from my previous post: do my eyes look bleary? They should). It probably wasn't the most responsible way to start graduate school, but it was worth it! A hundred times over! Anyhow, I like the image of Oliver and I speeding through our summer in some sort of fast-moving vehicle then screeching to a halt at school, where he kicks me out of the car and I roll into my first class. Did I mention yet that I had the greatest Labor Day weekend in recorded history?
Oliver and I went back to Canada for the weekend. Together with some friends from Toronto, we went up to Algonquin Park, the same place we snowshoed last winter. Quick stats:
7 people
3 canoes
1 "man overboard"
4 tents
1 pesky-yet-endearing chipmunk
3 days of refreshing lake swims
2 leech victims
1 pit toilet located in Blair Witch Project-like woods
6 fart jokes
17 manhours of laughter (not all connected with fart jokes)
20 thousand bottles of wine
20 million stars
20 billion times over the best way to end the summer
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