+
+
= the best way to spend the last days of January.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Why We Don't Do That
Johan: We don't poop in the bathtub.
Me: You're right. We don't.
Johan: Because if we do, the water is hot and then there will be hot poop.
Me: That's one of the reasons, but there are lots of other reasons we don't do that, too.
Johan: We don't want hot poop.
Me: Good point.
Johan: So don't do that.
Me: You're right. We don't.
Johan: Because if we do, the water is hot and then there will be hot poop.
Me: That's one of the reasons, but there are lots of other reasons we don't do that, too.
Johan: We don't want hot poop.
Me: Good point.
Johan: So don't do that.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Bar Food
I just boiled some eggs and thought of Chile.
While we were studying in Chile, my friend Roisin always carried around a travel-size transportable shaker of salt with her. She really loves salt. I would tease her about it because, really, if we were at a restaurant and the food needed salt, they would have salt shakers on the table. This was Chile, not the U.S.S.R., you know?
Then one day we found ourselves in a bar and instead of peanuts or some sort of rice cracker mix, the bar food was hard boiled eggs. And they didn't have any salt. I guess Roisin had the last laugh as I asked to borrow her travel-size salt shaker.
I can't remember the name of that bar. Huevos Bar? No, that's too easy. How do you say bizarre in Chilean?
That's all for now.
Oh, yeah, and Johan and I are leaving for the Dominican Republic on Sunday. I will be spending a few days alone while Johan and Eduardo spend some time in the campo and before my friends Brianna and Kelsey. I am armed with plenty of books, New Yorkers, and sunscreen.
While we were studying in Chile, my friend Roisin always carried around a travel-size transportable shaker of salt with her. She really loves salt. I would tease her about it because, really, if we were at a restaurant and the food needed salt, they would have salt shakers on the table. This was Chile, not the U.S.S.R., you know?
Then one day we found ourselves in a bar and instead of peanuts or some sort of rice cracker mix, the bar food was hard boiled eggs. And they didn't have any salt. I guess Roisin had the last laugh as I asked to borrow her travel-size salt shaker.
I can't remember the name of that bar. Huevos Bar? No, that's too easy. How do you say bizarre in Chilean?
That's all for now.
Oh, yeah, and Johan and I are leaving for the Dominican Republic on Sunday. I will be spending a few days alone while Johan and Eduardo spend some time in the campo and before my friends Brianna and Kelsey. I am armed with plenty of books, New Yorkers, and sunscreen.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Dinner Conversation
I love dinner conversation. There is nothing I'd rather do than sit with witty and bright people at a table, eating a good meal, drinking good wine, and having good conversation. And I like it best when we sit at the table long after the meal is finished, laughing and talking.
When I was growing up, in both of my homes family dinner was important. It didn't happen every night but I liked when it did. I liked talking about our days, about politics, about ideas and plans, and how my dad would conduct the conversation according to the Federal Rules of Evidence.
During my years with Eduardo, the dinner table was sometimes too quiet for me. I think there are some cultural things associated with this. My experience in the DR is that Dominicans laugh and talk over beer or a game of dominoes, and certainly at the cock fights, but that dinner is really just a time to eat. Eduardo never wanted to discuss anything deep or serious or even funny over dinner.
Then, once things were less than stellar, we often would not even eat together. Or, if we did, I felt deeply the lack of robust conversation that I longed for.
Over that past couple of months, Johan and I have been at the dinner table together. Just the two of us. Recently, he's been really engaging at the dinner table. We share about our days and a couple nights ago he told me he was disappointed that he didn't get to do the Stretch and Grow class at school because we didn't sign up. We talked about how he'd like to do that and that I would talk to the director to make sure he got registered. It was such a special moment. It seems like a pretty small thing, but represents a lot to me. It means he understands that he can change his world for the better by talking about his needs and wants in a rational way.
And all of a sudden, I have a family where dinner table conversation is again an important part of the day. Pretty soon we'll be debating legislation and discussing articles in the New Yorker, but for now I'm happy to just stretch and grow with Johan. Pour us another cup of juice.
When I was growing up, in both of my homes family dinner was important. It didn't happen every night but I liked when it did. I liked talking about our days, about politics, about ideas and plans, and how my dad would conduct the conversation according to the Federal Rules of Evidence.
During my years with Eduardo, the dinner table was sometimes too quiet for me. I think there are some cultural things associated with this. My experience in the DR is that Dominicans laugh and talk over beer or a game of dominoes, and certainly at the cock fights, but that dinner is really just a time to eat. Eduardo never wanted to discuss anything deep or serious or even funny over dinner.
Then, once things were less than stellar, we often would not even eat together. Or, if we did, I felt deeply the lack of robust conversation that I longed for.
Over that past couple of months, Johan and I have been at the dinner table together. Just the two of us. Recently, he's been really engaging at the dinner table. We share about our days and a couple nights ago he told me he was disappointed that he didn't get to do the Stretch and Grow class at school because we didn't sign up. We talked about how he'd like to do that and that I would talk to the director to make sure he got registered. It was such a special moment. It seems like a pretty small thing, but represents a lot to me. It means he understands that he can change his world for the better by talking about his needs and wants in a rational way.
And all of a sudden, I have a family where dinner table conversation is again an important part of the day. Pretty soon we'll be debating legislation and discussing articles in the New Yorker, but for now I'm happy to just stretch and grow with Johan. Pour us another cup of juice.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Moving On
It's hard, you know.
New Years is one of my favorite times of the year. I like reflecting on the year just finished, and making plans and goals for the upcoming year. 2010 was a hard one. I guess every year has hard times and good times. As my previous writing documented, it was a lot of ups and downs for me. I felt emotional and vulnerable and maybe let that get the best of me.
I want 2011 to be a year of less drama. When Eduardo and I first split, Paul and I were sitting on his couch and I told him I just wanted to skip over all this. All the pain and the worry and the heartache. And he said No way. He said you have to just be in it for awhile. There are going to be some times where you have to just be in the stillness and silence and feel sad. And it will be awful. But it will slowly start to get better.
I think I spent the last couple months of 2010 trying to prove Paul wrong. Trying to skip over the really hard stuff. Then it caught up with me toward the end of December and hit me like, well, you know, bricks.
I'm fortunate that I was able to leave Minnesota for a change of scenery. While a cruise is not necessarily a relaxing environment, I did get to do some (wobbly) yoga, sleep a lot, and be near the ocean. These are all things that help center me and that help me to find clarity.
2011 will need to be a time of rebuilding myself and my life. A time of finding balance. I'm somewhere in between ok and a mess. There are going to be some times where I just have to sit in the stillness and feel sad. There's not any drama to it. There's nothing really to fix. It's a process that just has to happen so that I can get to a new version of ok. It won't look really how I'd planned, but what does?
One of the philosophical questions that I struggle with is whether everything happens for a reason. I've written about it before and I've wondered about it for as long as I can remember. There is something comforting about predestination, but at the same time, there is some injustice that makes me think predetermination is pretty sadistic, and that the world must be just a random sequence of events.
I read a Henry David Thoreau quote the other day that I think strikes some balance between destiny and randomness.
"If we will be quiet and ready enough, we shall find compensation in every disappointment."
I can't change what happened in 2010. I don't know if that was always meant to happen or not. I suppose I won't ever know that. The point is that it doesn't matter whether it's random or not. What matters is what I choose to do next. I can quiet my mind and ready myself. I can choose to find peace in the quiet.
Thanks, HDT, for some sound advice to start 2011.
New Years is one of my favorite times of the year. I like reflecting on the year just finished, and making plans and goals for the upcoming year. 2010 was a hard one. I guess every year has hard times and good times. As my previous writing documented, it was a lot of ups and downs for me. I felt emotional and vulnerable and maybe let that get the best of me.
I want 2011 to be a year of less drama. When Eduardo and I first split, Paul and I were sitting on his couch and I told him I just wanted to skip over all this. All the pain and the worry and the heartache. And he said No way. He said you have to just be in it for awhile. There are going to be some times where you have to just be in the stillness and silence and feel sad. And it will be awful. But it will slowly start to get better.
I think I spent the last couple months of 2010 trying to prove Paul wrong. Trying to skip over the really hard stuff. Then it caught up with me toward the end of December and hit me like, well, you know, bricks.
I'm fortunate that I was able to leave Minnesota for a change of scenery. While a cruise is not necessarily a relaxing environment, I did get to do some (wobbly) yoga, sleep a lot, and be near the ocean. These are all things that help center me and that help me to find clarity.
2011 will need to be a time of rebuilding myself and my life. A time of finding balance. I'm somewhere in between ok and a mess. There are going to be some times where I just have to sit in the stillness and feel sad. There's not any drama to it. There's nothing really to fix. It's a process that just has to happen so that I can get to a new version of ok. It won't look really how I'd planned, but what does?
One of the philosophical questions that I struggle with is whether everything happens for a reason. I've written about it before and I've wondered about it for as long as I can remember. There is something comforting about predestination, but at the same time, there is some injustice that makes me think predetermination is pretty sadistic, and that the world must be just a random sequence of events.
I read a Henry David Thoreau quote the other day that I think strikes some balance between destiny and randomness.
"If we will be quiet and ready enough, we shall find compensation in every disappointment."
I can't change what happened in 2010. I don't know if that was always meant to happen or not. I suppose I won't ever know that. The point is that it doesn't matter whether it's random or not. What matters is what I choose to do next. I can quiet my mind and ready myself. I can choose to find peace in the quiet.
Thanks, HDT, for some sound advice to start 2011.
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