Sunday, January 23, 2011

Squeeze the present

Our Sunday morning ritual revolves around CBS Sunday Morning. We love the arts, the commentary, the human focus of the stories. This week, they re-aired Barry Peterson's story about his wife's early-onset Alzheimer's disease.

I've seen the piece three times and bawl every time.

The story is about love and how the disease manages to dissolve their dreams, one tiny pixel at a time. Peterson does such a good job showing how he and Jan were everything to each other until, without meaning to, she left. The disease floated her out of their intimacy into a cloud bank of confusion.

How much of marriage is being able to finish each other's sentences?  Knowing how to feed joy to your spouse? Retelling your favorite stories to swell the present with the sweetness of the past? Being a counterweight to your husband or wife's struggles?

If we could, we would hang sandbags, lower anchors, anything to keep them here with us, but no one can counterweight a person's evaporation, especially not the loved one left behind. In the story, Peterson shares a friend's perspective that every visit is another funeral.

Which is why I haven't read the book, Jan's Story. Jack has done an amazing job of teaching me that fear deserves no more attention than a kick in the teeth, but still. Some things eat me alive inside and this is one. Statistics show that Alzheimer's is on the rise and when your husband has 28 years of aging on you, fear has a leg up.

We all know that when you focus on what you fear you head right for it, which is why I don't mind seeing the story for the third time. I need frequent reminding; the lesson Jan taught him, Peterson says, is to soak up every day and be very grateful for the glory that is the present. Maybe if I learn that lesson fast enough I can diffuse the fear, let go of the future and trust it, too, will be glorious and full of love.

Jan and Jack are both right. Kick away from the dock of fear and water ski over that jump. That's how we do it, right? How we get those stories?

Yes, dear, I said you are right. So when do we do we get to go water skiing?

Friday, January 21, 2011

It was a dark and stormy night

Fitful was not the word for it. I spent most of the night alternately with a pillow around my head, searching for earplugs in every drawer and cupboard, or pressing my fingers as far into my ears as they would go.

Sleeping in our bedroom last night was like try to get some rest on top of a dryer full of bouncing shoes while a tea kettle goes on and off beside your head.

The cause of all that racket?

A snoring husband? No.
An inconsiderate neighbor? Nope.
Restless animals? Nuh-uh.


All of these could have been remedied. But this, this is insanity was an act of God. The wind. Or rather, our house doing its best to resist all the huffing and puffing being thrown at it.

There are stories of pioneers being driven mad by the wind here, wandering off into the desert. I could see it. If there had been a badger hole nearby I may have sought refuge in it last night.The gusts were over 55 mph and our house took a beating. The windows and doors rattled, howled and otherwise made a vile musical instrument of the dwelling in which we were trying to you know, sleep.

I considered recording it so you could experience the science fiction soundtrack for yourself, but decided no speakers would do it justice.  

Me, this morning: "I can't believe you slept through all that!"
Jack: "Through what?"
"The wind! It sounded like the house was coming apart."
"Well, you know what they say about the sleep of the innocent."

If I were Catholic, I'd be headed to confession.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

The land of the free

I picked up yet another magazine recently with one of those "How to cut back and still live well" articles featured. These kinds of pieces are pretty generic and repetitive, but often missing a critical bullet point. One said to get with friends and neighbors and develop a DVD lending library. Another said to trade books through online swap sites instead of buying them.

In this one - finally - someone mentioned libraries. It was last on the list (probably behind sell your body (ok, plasma) and consign your collection of Manolos), but at least it was there.

Duh!

What is a library for if not for free access? I am amazed at how many people in debt or unable to afford some basic needs still manage to buy a Kindle, iPod or other somesuch device enabling them to do little more than buy more stuff. Obviously, Steve Jobs and Jeff Bezos are geniuses. Why else would someone pay for the opportunity to pay again?

Unfortunately, libraries seem to be in the position of proving that customers believe the higher the price the more an item is worth. They provide excellent selections with a variety beyond any corporate entity and do so for FREE. In most states you can borrow an item from any library in the county or state for maybe the cost of postage. A new audio book on Amazon might be $25. At the library? $2.50 and some patience.

As a library patron, you can check out magazines, read newspapers, listen to audio books, watch DVDs (or movies or TV shows), get online, borrow video games and attend interesting events. In sum, libraries = free stuff.  What's not to love?

[Disclaimer: I am not a Luddite. I love technology and all the myriad ways it can deliver fun things to our hand held devices. What I don't like are proprietary ones that suck you into a cycle of purchasing from them and them only.]

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Amuse bouche


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If you ever have occasion to ask me about places to visit in certain cities I will invariably start with restaurant advice. In my hometown, my favorite is the Corsican Restaurant. In college it was Isaac’s Deli. Whenever anyone mentions Salt Lake City I ask if they’ve visited the Beehive Tea Room before they get to the word ‘City’.
Food is very important to me. After a life of quantities of food now I crave quality. For me, that means original, interesting combinations and definitely locally-owned eateries.
While in Kansas City visiting Jack’s family for Christmas, I ached for exciting dining experiences. We love where we live, but eating out in small town Wyoming isn’t exactly memorable; when I get the chance to tickle the taste buds, I try to do it up right.
On this trip we scored two hits in the gastronomic arena: The Blue Nile Café in River Market and the Fuji Steakhouse in Liberty.
The Blue Nile, a tiny Ethiopian place, was not a popular choice for the children in the group, but at least a couple of us were literally moaning with delight over our the injera, sampler platter and drinks (fresh mango juice and fresh ginger juice).
Neither of the moaners was Jack, by the way. He ate the kids’ Chinese leftovers. Those of us with discerning palates, however, ate with the kind of abandon that can create problems later.
“Um, it was red. And had lentils in it. Do you know what it was?” We pointed to the blank slice of plate. I was bemoaning our lack of options in Wyoming when I realized I could make my own yummy red stuff. Except I didn’t know what recipe to look up. Thankfully, the waitress did.
The red stuff, a.k.a. Misir watt, is on tap for today. Lemme tell ya how excited Jack is about this.
notsomuch.
Anyway, the second eating adventure was delicious, but the excitement was as much in the delivery as the consumption. There was moaning, yes, but a lot of laughter. If you have not been to a Japanese Steakhouse, you are in for a treat. It was my first time and we had a blast. The onion volcano, the super sharp knives slicing and dicing and giant spatula flipping and flicking (shrimp to diner’s mouths, or noses in Jack’s case), the Asian-accented jokes.
Jack, drooling over the cooking tools as much as the KC Strip, reached out to take a look at the spatula resting just behind his plate while the chef was stirring up vegetables on the other side of the grill.
Kawack! Jack nearly lost his finger.
The chef made his point without even turning his head, then grinned:
“I love you, man.”

Friday, January 14, 2011

Two heads are better than one

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It is regularly many, many degrees below zero here and, well, I am a wuss: starting my car in the morning is not my favorite way to begin the day. Totally a first world problem, as they say, but real enough to me.
I don’t want to go from warm woolen slippers to cold rubber boots, soft fleece bathrobe to stiff bulky Carhartt  just for the 30 seconds it takes to go start the car. And then there is the whole wet hair issue. Didn’t your grandmother tell you people die from going out with wet heads? Well, mine did. And we know I did everything she told me to. (Family: HUSH)

What? Hairdryer, you say?
Sorry, it ruins my ‘do.

For my birthday last year I got a card and the promise of a remote starter. Yes!

Ahem. Another birthday has passed now. Still no starter. Well, not one a mechanic had to install, anyway. Every morning when my movements become increasingly staccato my gallant gentleman of a husband pulls on his boots and coat, risks his fingers by delving into my purse for the key and then starts the car.

Life is good.

Now for where this first world problem intersects with, well, other worlds. You see, every morning in suburban neighborhoods across the northern half of this nation, cars warm up for several minutes all around cul de sacs. Moms hustle children into them, wave at one another and zoom off into their day.

Here, the sound of the engine starting is a modern cow bell. Reddy and Set, our calves destined to be an ox team, come running. So while puffs of exhaust chase soccer mom SUVs off to school, these two are having breakfast between me and my car. I may have to sidestep cow pies, but my hair is dry, my car is warm and no matter what there won’t be traffic. Alleluia!

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Ever expanding

No, I don't mean waistlines!

The New York Times recently published an article about marriage that posits the union which inspires growth in the individual partners is most sustainable. The one where the individual is minimized for the good of the relationship or the family - think the in-laws on Everybody Loves Raymond - is the least so.

The article even contains a quiz for you to measure your growthiness.

Curiosity and an open mind keep Jack and I motivated to grow and to experience the depth and breadth of all God sets before us. Finding humor in just about anything helps us do it without fear and regret (I hope).

In Marriage: A History, or How Love Conquered Marriage, Stephanie Coontz explains that this model of marriage, where the individual's needs and desires trump all else, is a completely new phenomenon and no one knows what will happen because of it. For centuries - millennia - marriage was a social and economic institution designed to maintain very defined social stratification systems and to control the flow of wealth.

A world where love leads to marriage is wonderful, but possibly dangerous for the framework of society, Coontz argues. And this may not be a bad thing.

To me, marriages full of growth and expansion are a means of spreading love. With every new idea, every epiphany, we lift those around us. Every individual's advancement elevates the whole. Maybe the system will crack a bit. I hope it does. It will be nice to let some light in.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

English Amish

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Although I’ve yet to discuss this here, we have friends who are Amish. Of course, we are intrigued by their lifestyle. We visited them over the holidays. The more time I spend with them, I realize they are an amalgamation of extremely devout and extremely practical. A nice combination, overall.

Fast-forward. You recall No Impact Man and our epiphany that mostly, we have avoided membership in that nasty American Consumer group? These two facts set the scene and serve as my excuse. You see, I did the unthinkable last night. I grabbed the TV remote and… turned it OFF.

Ack! Hark! Drat! And all those other exclamations of dismay.

I lit two candles (which we could NOT read by, unlike No Impact family). And we talked. We sat in comfy chairs and conversed. It was lovely. I didn’t plan it as such, but it turned into a nice Christmas Eve for us (we decided to have our Christmas together on 1.11.11).

Today we even discussed canceling our satellite subscription. However, while our mouths said, “Yes, great idea,” our eyes pleaded: Really? For real? Like, seriously? NO TV?

It is yet to be seen whether we will follow through. In the meantime, tonight we watched one streaming show, one DVR’d show and then, again, TURNED IT OFF. The revolution starts small.

This may be why, when he discussed a trip apparently we planned while I was asleep to the Midwest Ox Drover’s Association meeting at Tillers International in June (I ask you: How many of you know what a Drover is?) and I groaned, his response was, “You’ll love it. There is homesteading and blacksmithing and all kinds of classes. It’s like English Amish.”

I was wrong yesterday. I’m not eco-conscious or anything trendy or cool like that. I’m English Amish. Read: practical without the devout part. Or at least without the kind of devout that requires head covers and leaving school at 14.

For 2011: More candles. Less TV. Yes.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Hungry Heifers

You've heard of hungry hippos? Here are some hungry (and thirsty) heifers.



Traffic jam

We want what they're having (the oxen calves were eating grain just inside the fence.)

Why we lose water during the middle of the day - they drank it all!

Ok, fine. Can we have what they're having? (that's the chicken house, where the corn lives)
You feed us, you get to go home. Capiche?

Finally! Breakfast on the run.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

It's how you tell 'em

Jack loves to repeat his father's saying, "It's not how you sell them, it's how you tell them." In other words, it isn't the price you charge, but the presentation.

This came home to me today. For a variety of reasons (can you say student loans?) I have never developed frivolous spending habits. That is how I see it anyway; others may (read: do) interpret my tight purse strings as being cheap.

But this afternoon we watched the documentary "No Impact Man," which profiles a family's effort to leave no impact on the earth for one year. No electricity, no elevators (in NYC), local food only, pedestrian or bicycle transportation, and cloth diapers. They even forgo toilet paper.

Moving on.

The wife was reluctant. She likes reality TV, takeout and Starbucks. She hates nature. They made it work and managed to stay married.

Of course, anything like this makes you take stock. Could we do that?

I don't know whether we could ever be that extreme, but overall I discovered that in being frugal (aka cheap), I've minimized my impact.

I'm low-impact girl!

From this chair, I look around and see very few things we've bought outright. Just about everything we did is electronic (TV, laptop, camera, phone, etc.). All of the furniture was either a gift or second-hand (or, in the new lingo, reused). Even the picture frames on the wall were from the thrift store (I painted them). Most of my clothes came from consignment stores. Our trash is mostly kitty litter (how I wish there were a way around that).

Certainly we aren't perfect but it was nice to find that in being economical, we have preserved a bit of our green conscience. Cheap is in!

The view from behind

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Christmas vacation really put a kink in my blog-along. There was SO MUCH I could have written about, but we spent so much time actually visiting and interacting with real, live humans - family, even - that I didn't have time to record it live as it was happening. I did, however, keep a log of all we did complete with vignettes worth including later. For example, yesterday we got a postcard from the nice Amish family we stayed with. The return address labels say, “Seven days without chocolate make one weak.” #makes me giggle