It’s Carson‘s birthday! Go on over and wish him happy.
I will freely admit to having a huge, geeky crush on this man. For starters, he is, as we say around here, wicked smaht. The work that Carson does in academia is stunning, and though he assures me that I am his intellectual peer, I’m not sure I buy that; I think he’s much smarter than I am.
Our politics are nearly perfectly aligned. Though there are a few topics we haven’t covered yet, we determined a few weeks ago that if we’re not spot-on in terms of our respective stances, we’re at least in the same zip code. What I really love about this, though, is that we don’t just sit around assuring one another of our correctness; we’re willing to ask questions and challenge assumptions and make sure that we really understand the implications of our stances. I dig that about him.
There is something about Carson’s energy that I love. He’s engaged and enthusiastic, seemingly all the time. He’s a careful and thorough critical thinker. He radiates generosity and compassion. Oh, and don’t forget the funny; here is a soul who loves to laugh, and in that, we are peers.
Carson is a running freak. I mean it; the man goes for “easy” 20-mile runs. WHAT?! About this, he and I are decidedly incompatible, but I respect and admire his fortitude and his commitment.
I am honored that this man offers me his friendship, his time, and his attention, and I’m grateful for another year with his voice in my chorus.
Happiest of birthdays to you, my friend, and may you celebrate many more.
It’s not that I don’t have feelings of in-your-faceness, it’s that I want to be a better person than that. While the facebook universe was exploding with “suck it, Republicans!” messages, the only bit of bitter celebration I allowed myself was this, mostly because I thought it was more funny than mean.
As the confetti settles and we try to regain a sense of normalcy after the insanity that marked the last few weeks (to which I completely surrendered myself), it’s interesting – and more than a little scary, sometimes – to see what’s happening with the people who feel that they “lost.”
The first thing I saw on Wednesday morning was this:
The accompanying news article says that it was a “mistake” and that the “flag pole is broken” and that accounts for the presentation (which, for those who might not know, is an indication of extreme distress). I’m not sure I buy that story.
This seems to be a popular item among the disappointed.
The thing that continues to amaze me is the depth – the genuine, honest-to-goodness truth – of the fear that so many people harbor. I know this isn’t a joke to them – they are really, truly scared, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. No one is coming for them. No one is trying to undermine them. No one has it out for them.
My greatest wish for the next four years is that the angry and frightened stop – just for a short time – and really look at what’s going on outside their bubble. The economy is growing. Wars are ending. Equality is a good thing. You are not under attack and your country is not disintegrating before your very eyes. Take a deep breath. Turn off Fox and Beck and Limbaugh for a month and see what happens.
ALL of the marriage questions went the way I wanted them to – Maine, Washington, and Maryland passed marriage equality, and Minnesota defeated their anti-equality question!
A storm raged during the night and left masses of starfish stranded on the shore. The next morning dawned bright and clear on the receding tide, and the starfish began to dry out and die. A man walking on the beach came upon a little boy industriously carrying starfish back into the waves and commented to the child that there were thousands of starfish in the sand, that he couldn’t possibly make a difference. “Well,” said the boy, gently setting another starfish into the water, “I made a difference to THAT one.”
I don’t know about you, but I’ve been blindsided by Sandy.
Here’s the thing; the Chili family (and all our neighbors) escaped with nary a scratch. Seriously; no major damage, no flooding (and our basement ALWAYS floods) and no significant power outages were experienced by anyone in our immediate little corner of the world. We were very, very lucky.
There are a lot of people who were not, however, and I’m keenly aware of the magnitude of the disaster. Really; if you haven’t seen the pictures, you should take a look. This is not something the people – or the infrastructure – is going to just get over; this is going to require months, if not years, of work repairing, rebuilding, and rethinking.
When something huge like this happens, it’s really, really easy to feel helpless and overwhelmed. I mean, really; where do you START?! How can you – little, middle-class you – possibly make a difference?
I’m telling you that you can, because your little contribution joins up with my little contribution, which in turn gets together with a zillion other little contributions, and before you know it, we’re making a real difference. Together.
Start at the Red Cross. If that’s not enough for you, go and visit Kizz’s post (and keep coming back to it; she’ll be adding to it as time passes). She’s listing a bunch of businesses and shelters and other places that could really, really use some support right about now.
These are our starfish, People. Let’s get to work. Do what you can, even if you don’t think it’s enough. It is; trust me.
Today, my precious friend and soul mate Bowyer celebrates another year of life on Earth, and I get an excuse to write a love note to him in honor of the occasion.
I met Bowyer in college. We were both attending a summer program in teaching that required a couple of days “bonding” as a group in the mountains (which both of us just barely endured, and not without a hefty dose of scathing sarcasm) and six weeks running a classroom (which we did as a team), and I remember my first impressions of him as if it happened yesterday and not 17 years ago. He was confident, matter-of-fact, and hysterically funny, and he remains those things to this day. I think it took us all of two days to recognize that we were going to be important to each other – he was drawn to me and I to him in ways and for reasons that neither of us can adequately explain, even now - and by the time we finished the program, we were best friends.
There are about a zillion things that I love about this man, but the top of the list is that he is genuine and he is constant. Bowyer is someone who understands who he is and what’s important to him, and though he’s not the kind of man to resist change if it’s needed, he is the person I point to when I need to give an example of someone who is exactly what he says he is. There is a kind of bedrock, foundational trustworthiness in his character; I know that what I’m seeing is what I’m getting, and I deeply respect that in him.
My friend makes me laugh all the time. He is the master of the one-liner (“She has a head?!”), and he tells a fantastic story; in fact, his storytelling prowess is second only in my estimation to that of my sister. He understands how a good narrative works, he understands just about all the shades of funny, and his enthusiasm in telling his stories makes them that much more entertaining. I love it when his eyes bug out.
Bowyer is one of the most ethical professionals I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. He is a teacher, like me, and he approaches his work with a kind of practical efficiency that I have long admired; he loves his students in very different ways than I do, but there is no mistaking that he loves them. A few years ago, he was challenged by administration about his grades, and he stood his ground and insisted that the students demonstrate that they know the material before they get the grade. It was a difficult time for him, and he could have just knuckled under and done what the administration wanted him to do, but he refused to change the grades of kids who did not do the work to his standards because he knew he wouldn’t be doing right by the students. Bowyer’s entire life is informed by doing what he knows is right.
Bowyer is also a woodworking craftsman, and the work that he produces is exquisite. He sets high standards for himself, and he continually meets them. His work is careful, precise, and beautiful, and he carries those qualities over into his day-t0-day work, as well; when he cleans the house, it’s clean - there are no corners cut when he’s working, and I love that about him. He really embodies the Yankee work ethic.
When we first met, Bowyer was pretty clear that he didn’t want children. The problem, though, was that he was in love with someone who did, and he ended up agreeing to becoming a parent (twice!). While he jokes about it now (“We could have gone on with our happy fucking little lives… but NO! YOU people wanted to have kids!”), he has grown into a really fantastic father. His sons are smart, confident, and loving young men, and my heart melts a little to see him interact with them (knowing, as I do, how hesitant he was to take on this role and seeing how beautifully he’s grown into it). His first thought is always about how his decisions are going to affect the boys, and he goes out of his way to make sure that they have what they need first; everything else comes after that.
Bowyer is my “person;” someone I know that I can call on at any time, for any reason, and he’ll drop everything to be there for me, regardless of how long it’s been since we last saw one another or what’s going on in his life at the moment. He is, without question, the first person I’d call if tragedy struck; I know that he’d be able to make decisions and take care of things that I may not have the capacity to think about, and I know that I’d be well cared-for in his presence. The amazing thing about this relationship is that he knows that I’m that person for him, too. We recognize one another as soul mates, and we both gratefully accept responsibility for one another without question or hesitation.
I have far too many favorite stories about Bowyer to share in one place. The word “friend” is inadequate to express the place he has in my life. He belongs to me, and I to him, and it will ever be thus.
I got to spend a significant part of my day with Sooza, and that made me very, very happy.
She’s in town visiting her parents (whilst her husband, Wayfarer, makes a perfectly ridiculous trip through New England on his bicycle, but that’s another story). The other day, I had an unexpected but entirely delightful visit from Sooza and the girls as they were test driving a new (to them) minivan. We decided to reserve today for a more substantial visit, but the forecast made me nervous; I wasn’t sure that the Wayfarer girls would have much fun at Chez Chili without access to the pool.
Well, the weather was perfectly lovely, and I needn’t have worried about the pool in any event; the little girls took a quick dip, but spent the rest of the time indoors – playing Monopoly, building blanket forts, and generally entertaining themselves while the Mamas had a singularly wonderful time on the back deck.
The visit was good for my soul, and I’m very, very glad it happened.
Today I celebrate the continued presence of Wayfarer on the planet.
I have been loving Wayfarer – to one degree or another – for a little more than 20 years. There’s something about the man that resonates with my energy – and mine with his – and we’ve settled very nicely into a comfortable, stable, and satisfying expression of that synergy.
He is a thinking man, and though we sometimes disagree about this or that, we are never, ever disrespectful of each other, nor are we willing to let those disagreements tarnish the way we look at one another. If anything, I think the fact that we can disagree – and can talk to each other in ways that help us to understand how we each see things – causes us to seek each other out for clarity about sticky or complex problems. He is a key part of my “perspective team.”
He loves with his whole being. Wayfarer is very like me in this regard; he is not the least bit apologetic about going all in with his family, his friends, and his students. That, I think, is a big part of the common vibration we share; neither of us sees that kind of whole love as a weakness or a fault.
Wayfarer is funny, and I seem to be particularly in tune with his sense of humor. His mannerisms, the way he comments on the everyday, and his turns of phrase – to say nothing of his facial expressions and tones of voice – crack me up on a fairly regular basis. Ask him to teach you how to snivel.
He’s a practical and pragmatic sort while still holding to his ideal, and that is another thing that draws me to his friendship. He sees things the way they are and understands how to “work the system,” but he’s also stoically and steadfastly determined to change those systems when he sees they’re simply not working (especially if he sees they’re not working for a kid). I admire his ability to simultaneously say “well, there it is,” and tirelessly work to change it.
I am deeply proud of the relationship that Wayfarer and I share. We went though a profoundly painful and difficult time a long while ago, but we recognized that we were important enough to one another to figure a way to settle into the friendship that we have now. Our families belong to each other, and we all know, without question, that any one of us would get into the car at 2 am in our pajamas if we were called. That matters.
Happy birthday, my precious friend. Thank you for all that you have been, and for all that you are to me. I’m looking forward to another year with you in it.
School is officially over this week (well, it may not officially be over until Monday, but for all intents and purposes, the teaching is done). I’m posting two lists today – one here for the ‘me’ things I’m doing this summer and one at Teacher’s Education for the ‘school’ things I’m planning.
1. Reading. This will probably be going on both lists, as the activity applies to both my personal and professional lives, but I’ve restarted the Outlander series, and I’m thinking I might enjoy spending the summer with those old friends.
2. Day tripping. I’ve promised my daughters and O’Mama (separately) that I’d spend at least a day in Boston with them, and I’m really looking forward to those days. Rarely do we do the tourist thing in our own homes, but visiting museums and historic sites that we drive by on a regular basis is fun. I have a familial sort of love for Boston, and it will be fun to re-immerse myself in its history and culture.
3. Spending time. I’m looking forward to seeing my grandparents more regularly, and to just hanging with my girls. I’m going to see what kind of time I can negotiate out of my sister and O’Mama, and I want to see if I can get Gerry to come up and spend a day or two with us, too. I’m also giddy about seeing my husband more; I regularly venture to his office to share lunches with him in the summertime.
4. Official business. One of the things on my to-do list is to get the girls’ passports in order. It’s not as though we’re planning on fleeing the country in the event of another Republican president or anything, but we’d like to keep our options open. (I kid… sort of. I’m getting Punk’s passport so she can go to England with the marching band next April, so I’ll get Bean’s passport at the same time, but I like how having the whole family travel-ready leaves our options open.)
5. Cleaning and purging. I’ve been working, since my aborted “do one thing” resolution in January, at methodically making my way through our home and simplifying things. My next project is to go through my clothes, saving out what I wear all the time, offering up to Punk anything she wants of the things I don’t wear anymore, and donating everything else. I may try to make my way through our photographs, too; I have a lot of pictures that were taken before we switched over to digital cameras, and I’d like to have all the important pictures scanned.
6. Relaxing by the lake. Yet again, we’ve reserved the houses on the lake. This will be our fifth year vacationing at the lake as a whole family (and when I say “whole family,” I mean it – it’s us, Bruder, and Mr. Chili’s parents. My sister and her wife come for an afternoon or two, but they’re smart enough not to stay too long). Last year was challenging as Mother Chili had broken her leg about a month before and spent the whole week moody and disagreeable; my hope is that this year is much more enjoyable for everyone (though, in a fit of “what the HELL was he thinking?!”, Father Chili bought Mother a kayak for her birthday this year. She’s 78. It was a singularly TERRIBLE idea, and I’m a little nervous about their bringing the damned thing to the lake…)
7. Exercising. I’m putting together an ease-into-it program of walking and yoga that I’m hoping will help me get rid of those last sticky ten pounds. My plan is to get going first thing in the morning; since my sleep schedule doesn’t change very much from the school year to the summertime, I find myself awake well before the rest of my family is ready to think about opening their eyes.
8. Eating. I’m already looking forward to fruit (especially cherries and strawberries and watermelon), burgers on the grill, and giant, crispy salads with grilled marinated chicken sprinkled with homemade dressing. Then there’s the frozen fruit smoothies and the ice cream. Yum.
9. Movies. My plan for rainy days is to gather up the girls and camp out on the couch with a good movie or two.
10. Lazing. For all this stuff, I also plan on doing a whole lotta nothing on my back porch. It is, after all, summer vacation.
There is nothing quite like an old, favorite book to soothe raw and jangled nerves. I’ve found myself immersed again in Outlander, and am very much enjoying being back with old friends.
The Chilis spent today at Sea World! We got a gorgeous day for it; clear and bright and not too hot. In fact, we couldn’t have ordered better weather for our week here; we’ve been really lucky.
Our adventures at Sea World started with the dolphin show, pretty much as soon as we got there.
I love dolphin shows. In fact, I love pretty much all the shows at aquariums. When I was in second or third grade (probably third), I was taken on a field trip to the New England Aquarium. While I was there, I saw a seal and sea lion show, and I decided then and there that I was going to be a seal trainer when I grew up. Of course, I don’t have an aptitude for biology (and I have a wicked shellfish allergy), so it never panned out, but there’s still a special place in my heart for those critter-human bonds that I see in those shows.
After that, we met up with the Lady TwoBlueDays (Gerry had rotten sleep last night, and decided to sit this trip out), we made our way to Journey to Atlantis. The last time we were at Sea World, Punkin was about 8, and this ride scared the shit out of her then. She was enamored of mermaids, and the ride has a mermaid-turned-sea witch in the story line, and that didn’t go over so well with my baby. This time, though, she was ready (and Bean was finally tall enough to ride), so I held everyone’s bags and hats and off they went!
We had gotten ourselves passes to the new Turtle Trek (which opened today, in fact), so we headed out of Atlantis and got in line for that. It’s a 360°, 3D movie that follows a turtle hatch-ling from the beach, through a bunch of different adventures (including a close encounter with a shark) and back to the beach where she returns to lay her own eggs.
We decided, at that point, that we were hungry, so we headed off to find some lunch. Our tickets came with a meal, and the girls decided they wanted to try the pizza/pasta buffet, so that’s where we aimed. The line to buy tickets for the place was too long for the Lady Days, though, so we split up for a little bit at that point. We reconvened at the kid play area (the girls remembered fondly the multi-level play place in that spot), and the girls, Babycakes, and Mr. Chili rode the Shamu Coaster, just for nostalgia’s sake.
The next stop was a Cirque-like show that told the story of a fisherman who finds himself under the sea, where he falls in love with a beautiful… something… and witnesses a power struggle between this beautiful thing and a jealous sea witch. After a lot of flying, contorting, and tumbling, true love prevails in the end. It was a wholly satisfying way to spend 20 minutes.
By then, lunch had settled sufficiently that the more adventurous in our party (Mr. Chili, Bluemoon and Babycakes, specifically) headed for the Manta roller coaster.
This thing is terrifying, even from the ground. Riders are suspended face-down, and shot through a series of twists and loops and… well, see for yourself.
I know you can’t tell, but that’s Mr. Chili in the front row, screaming his fool head off. They came off the ride with enormous grins on their faces and, since there was no line, we sent them on to ride a second time.
I’m glad we did, because our next stop was the Kraken coaster. Bluemoon and Babycakes managed to get a ride in, but Mr. Chili was in line for the front car and, in the time he waited, the ride ended up experiencing technical difficulties sufficient to shut it down. No Kraken for my mister this trip.
Once that was done, the TwoBlue ladies were pretty fried, so we parted ways one last time. They headed for home and we headed for the Arctic Adventure. We knew (from unpleasant experience) that the motion-movie ride was, well, unpleasant, so we skipped that part and did the walk-through instead. We saw a couple of beluga whales, a polar bear, and a couple of (ginormous!) walrus. It was fun.
We wandered a bit, making our way to the killer whale show to end up our day, when Bean asked if she could get an airbrush tattoo. We weren’t opposed to the idea, so Bean, Punk, and I were painted; Bean got an airbrush ying-yang symbol on her ankle, and Punk and I got henna tattoos on our inner forearms (Punk got a rose, I got a dragonfly). I’m using it as practice; I’m thinking of getting a white-ink tattoo in that spot, so I’m seeing how I like this first.
Our last stop was the killer whale show, which was very exciting – and VERY wet for the people in the first 11 or so rows. There were a number of animals in the show – I didn’t realize how many killer whales they had – and they bring out one particularly big one to soak the crowd; the thing just goes around the perimeter of the tank, scooping water with its huge tail and flinging it into the stands. When they tell you you’re going to get wet, they aren’t kidding; this isn’t just incidental splashing from the animals’ jumps; this is intentional soaking. We were in the first set of dry rows, though, so we were safe.
It was a wholly lovely day, and I’m glad we did it.
What I'm Reading:
I've started reading The Doomsday Book. by Connie Willis. I was planning to read it as a paper book, but I found myself stuck in a long-wait situation and downloaded it to my cloud. I'll read it in both formats; I don't mind switching between the two.
