Sunday, October 31, 2010

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Random Quote and Unrelated Photo of the Week

Man Stuff

Facebook activism succeeds not by motivating people to make a real sacrifice but by motivating them to do the things people do when they are not motivated enough to make a real sacrifice.

Malcolm Gladwell
Small Change: Why the revolution will not be tweeted

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Wordless Wednesday: Into the Sun(flare)

Running into the Sun(fllare)

A sunny cool day at the zoo. One of the many reasons I don't want to work full time right now. 

Monday, October 18, 2010

What does it say about me

What does it say about me that my first thought, on reading an email from one of my bosses asking if I can find some time in the next week so that she and the big boss would like to talk with me, that I think "oh crap, am I being fired?"

I had this thought, even though I have NEVER been fired. At no level of employment have I ever been found so lacking that I was asked to leave. I have always been the one to quit, and usually when I quit I have such a good relationship with my employer that I give months of notice, not weeks. (This has happened several times when I moved across the country or was pregnant.) I have never been fired, nor have I ever been told that my performance was such that if I did not shape up such measures would be taken.

So why, when I saw this email, did I think I was in trouble? Is this common? I can only imagine that this happens to a lot of people, upon receiving a terse but not clearly ominous message from a superior. If I am right, and it is not just me, why are we so sure that these messages portend doom, even in the face of no previous experience that would suggest we should read things this way?

(Appropos of the above: I wasn't fired. The bosses asked me if I wanted to take on a new position with more responsibility and maybe even some staff, working on the same topic that has been my main area of focus over the past year. I am excited and nervous.)

Friday, October 15, 2010

Random Quote and Unrelated Photo of the Week

July 25: Red Detail of Paintaing

You there, get my shoes!

Bert Cooper
Mad Men

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

I Want To Write

I want to write about how Ada got lice within 2 weeks of starting kindergarten. And how annoying it is to get rid of them. Or how every time I think about lice my head itches.

I want to write about how Ian tried to climb an empty shelf, only to have it fall on him. About how this made him bite his tongue, hard. How he bled briefly but was soothed by Chris and a bottle and how he would not let us see his tongue until the next day, which is when I realized it was really injured. (He's fine and the tongue is healing nicely, but he may have a permanent notch in the side of his tongue.)

I want to write about my job (though it is my general rule not to do that). I want to write (more) about how this work is compelling and taxing and satisfying and frustrating. About how hard it is to balance work with family and with any other interests or pursuits.

I want to write about how adorable it was to walk around the block with Mira. About how exciting it is that she is finally more interested in walking on her feet than her knees. About how my joy at this was in part due to the knowledge that her pants won't wear out quite so fast now.

I want to write about the joys of biking home with two kids laughing and joking behind me, delicious end-of-season tomato risotto with friends, and the warmth of my husband sleeping beside me.

I am too tired to write more about these things than I have just done. I am too busy to take blue photographs or to even remember to carry my camera with me. I worry that I am half-assing things all over the place but I am also so happy with my life right now. Someone smarter than me might point out that this is just life.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Sunday, October 10, 2010

They Call Me Compulsive Yellow

As I got busy at work I took fewer pictures. I also continued to be obsessed with the photo applications for the iphone, especially Hipstamatic. Yellow can be so dramatic.

Yellow collage

The full yellow set is here. October is blue.

Thursday, October 07, 2010


Four children, two adults, one cow train ride, three hay bale towers, tons of pumpkins, six lunches, two other sets of twins spotted, two toddlers asleep within five minutes of getting in the car to go home.

Lila and Ada

Ian and Mira, 16 mo



One fun day.

Wednesday, October 06, 2010

Why Cell Phones Have Cameras (Wordless Wednesday)

 Why Cell Phones Were Given Cameras
Ian, who fell asleep on the 12 block ride home. 

Sunday, October 03, 2010

A Friend, Gone. A Friend, Remembered

This weekend Chris and I took the kids to a memorial for our friend Pat. Pat lived across the country and was about ten years our senior. We met him through our college, as alums. He was a committed alumnus who served as alumni board president and enthusiastically volunteered on behalf of the college for many years.

We did not see Pat often. For a while we lived relatively close to one another. More recently we saw him on occasion and talked some by email. He came to town once a year or so, but had a lot of friends here. He had a lot of friends in general. I knew this, but at the memorial and by reading his facebook page I am realizing just how enmeshed he was with his friends. He remained close with a number of his classmates, but he also made friends with people like me and Chris, people who did not overlap with him in school but who he nevertheless sought out for friendship of varying levels of closeness.

Over the past two years Pat was in touch, calling or emailing to say he was thinking of us, that he was reading the blog and was happy to see the kids, that he hoped we were doing alright. Sometimes I responded, but not always. I was busy, tired, overtaxed emotionally and did not have time for what felt like another thing to put on my to-do list.  When I learned Pat had died I felt terrible, both for the loss of a friend but also because it called out my own failings as a friend. My failure to consider that his calls might be reaching out because he needed something. Or worse, that I knew he needed something but didn't want to reach back to give it to him.

Talking to his friends on Saturday I understood that he reached out a lot in a way, but that many people were similarly unaware that he was in such bad shape.

A group of us met on campus to make weathergrams from Pat's sayings, song lyrics he loved and other things that reminded us of him. Traditionally a weathergram is a very short poem about nature's beauty. I love using weathergrams in a memorial. The slip of paper hanging from a tree draws you in, it is ephemeral, it is beautiful.  

The weathergrams for Pat said, among other things: "I love my sons," "hee hee" and "Reagan is a dickhead." They also quoted Jimi Hendrix and included notes of care and concern from friends across the country. 

I wasn't sure how it would work to take the kids to this memorial, but both Chris and I wanted to go and this was the only way to make it happen. Chris and I biked the kids across town to the college, which felt like a treat for them and for us. As people gathered, talked and made weathergrams, Ian and Mira ran around laughing and crying and eating. Ada made two weathergrams in a made up language. She whined some and asked why we were sitting around, but overall it worked out. I saw some people I had not seen in a long time. I found out more about Pat's last months. I teared up a little, more than I wanted to but less than I thought I might. 

As the sun started to go down, Chris took Ian and Mira home while Ada and I joined the others on a walk across campus, placing weathergrams as we went. Ada took the "hee hee" paper, and chose a low tree on which to hang it. We got to the main entrance to campus, where a young garry oak sat in a hole ready to be filled with dirt and Pat's ashes. We took turns spreading the ashes and shoveling the dirt. I explained to Ada what was going on (including a vague explanation of the ashes as what remained of Pat after he died) and she did pretty well with it. Remembrances were read and Pat's memory invoked. We agreed that he would love to be remembered with a tree that stands guard on campus, greeting visitors and new students. 

After the ceremony Ada and I walked back across campus, examining some of the weathergrams and even explaining to a couple of students why the papers were there. It felt good to be able to tell strangers that we'd hung the papers in a friend's memory, how much he'd loved the school, that I was sad he was gone. The young men asked what his name was, which seemed right. Pat would have enjoyed making a connection with these young men.

Ada and I rode home in the dark. It was late, and she still hadn't eaten dinner. We stopped to get hamburgers and fries. It seems tangential to mention this, but Pat loved his sons so much and his memorial made me want to hold my children close. I wanted to extend this time with Ada, wanted to ride through the night with her for hours. One day too soon she won't want to do this with me any more. 

My weathergram for Pat read "distance is nothing among friends" but maybe it should have been "love now." I would like to think he would have agreed with that sentiment. 

October 2: Blue Stripe
Ada, waiting for the hamburgers