The Meaning of Music
I have always been moved by music. I realize that sounds cheesy, but it's true. Music and writing speak to me. I've heard many songs in my life that express exactly what I'm feeling at the time I'm hearing them. Usually these songs become my favorites. I buy the CD and play the song over and over again. I sing at top volume -- grateful that I can finally so artfully express my current state of being... even if I am borrowing someone else's artful expression...I suspect that this is not something unique to me...but that it's actually sort of a universal product of the human condition... we're always looking for things that speak to us, that say something about our experience. This is why the stories on This American Life are always so compelling...it's actually a requirement that any stories aired reflect something about the broader human condition, not just the author's funny story. Maybe this is also one reason why people obsess over actors and other celebrities... because said celebrities have somehow expressed something their fans only wish they could have expressed. Anyway, I digress.
Music.
This morning, I rediscovered Finoa Apple's "Paper Bag." This was the song from her second CD that I instantly fell in love with. It was 1999. I was in the middle of my senior year of college and while I was in love with Neil, I was close enough to the times of romantic despair (many involving Neil) and I was still figuring out who I was and what I was about and this song was so smart and... well...artfully expressed, that I was hooked.
"Hunger hurts and I want him so bad, oh it kills, cuz I know I'm a mess he don't want to clean up. I've got to fold cuz these hands are too shaky to hold. Hunger hurts, but starving works when it costs too much to love."
So, this morning, on my way to work, I put the CD in my car stereo and cranked the volume and sang Paper Bag, and even though I relate much less to Fiona Apple's particular dilemma at this point in my life than when I first heard the song, it was still awesome. I belted it out in my loudest i'm-alone-in-the-car-and-i-don't-care-how-i-sound voice and it felt great. Once you have been impacted by a song, it's sort of like a gift you get to keep with you for the rest of your life. When I'm 78, I imagine I'll still be able to put Paper Bag in the stereo and sing at top volume. The songs of my life are a part of me and pieced together, I think they might tell an interesting story.
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
Monday, September 27, 2004
The Joy of Fall and Being a Tourist in Washington
I have been walking around all day feeling very happy. Even thought it is Monday and I had to battle with and almost fire our printer and I am staring down the barrel of an incredibly hectic week, I have been feeling really happy and I think it's because it's fall. There's a crisp chill in the air and some leaves are turning yellow and Halloween and Thanksgiving are approaching and I couldn't be happier.
I love fall. Neil and I got to drink hot chocolate in our living room last night and not feel ridiculous. Had we done this a couple weeks earlier when it was still in the 80s outside, we would have been very silly.
Fall means being able to be cozy in my house while wearing pjs and slippers. Fall means the International Balloon Fiesta (which starts this weekend), and it means that we get to carve pumpkins soon and that I can take walks with co-workers at lunch without boiling alive and melting into the pavement.
D.C. last week didn't feel a bit like fall. It was in the 80's every day. Overall the trip was a success. We met with our legislators; they liked the umbrellas and seemed convinced of the virtues of our industry. I also got to do some touristy things this time, unlike my trip in June. I went to some of the monuments at night -- very cool. Shopped in Georgetown -- nothing amazing. Went out in Adams Morgan -- fun. Got into the Native American Museum which just opened last Tuesday -- incredibly cool. And, visited the panda bears at the National Zoo -- wonderful.
Much of the time I was serving as tour guide for some of the people on the trip. That was frustrating at times, but not terrible.
Observations:
1. Within about a three mile radius of the Capitol Building black suits are required. Some women accessorize said black suits with things like colored shirts or scarves, but even that could be frowned on.
2. The police are fond of shutting down roads willy-nilly. I realize this is probably because of the massive number of important people in Washington D.C. at any given time... but it's ridiculous.
3. Everybody in D.C. is interested in politics, including cab drivers who are too interested and try to shove politics down the throats of innocent passengers.
Could I live in the District sometime? I think I could. I don't know how long I'd last there, but it has a lot to offer and it could be a lot of fun.
I have been walking around all day feeling very happy. Even thought it is Monday and I had to battle with and almost fire our printer and I am staring down the barrel of an incredibly hectic week, I have been feeling really happy and I think it's because it's fall. There's a crisp chill in the air and some leaves are turning yellow and Halloween and Thanksgiving are approaching and I couldn't be happier.
I love fall. Neil and I got to drink hot chocolate in our living room last night and not feel ridiculous. Had we done this a couple weeks earlier when it was still in the 80s outside, we would have been very silly.
Fall means being able to be cozy in my house while wearing pjs and slippers. Fall means the International Balloon Fiesta (which starts this weekend), and it means that we get to carve pumpkins soon and that I can take walks with co-workers at lunch without boiling alive and melting into the pavement.
D.C. last week didn't feel a bit like fall. It was in the 80's every day. Overall the trip was a success. We met with our legislators; they liked the umbrellas and seemed convinced of the virtues of our industry. I also got to do some touristy things this time, unlike my trip in June. I went to some of the monuments at night -- very cool. Shopped in Georgetown -- nothing amazing. Went out in Adams Morgan -- fun. Got into the Native American Museum which just opened last Tuesday -- incredibly cool. And, visited the panda bears at the National Zoo -- wonderful.
Much of the time I was serving as tour guide for some of the people on the trip. That was frustrating at times, but not terrible.
Observations:
1. Within about a three mile radius of the Capitol Building black suits are required. Some women accessorize said black suits with things like colored shirts or scarves, but even that could be frowned on.
2. The police are fond of shutting down roads willy-nilly. I realize this is probably because of the massive number of important people in Washington D.C. at any given time... but it's ridiculous.
3. Everybody in D.C. is interested in politics, including cab drivers who are too interested and try to shove politics down the throats of innocent passengers.
Could I live in the District sometime? I think I could. I don't know how long I'd last there, but it has a lot to offer and it could be a lot of fun.
Friday, September 17, 2004
Apples, Honey and Heading to The District
Yesterday was Rosh Hashanah -- the Jewish new year. We are now in the year 5765 (I'm pretty sure about that). So, in honor of this day, I spent three and a half hours in temple yesterday. When I was little I used to hate the high holidays. They were the only two days of the year that I was guaranteed to have my little but in a pew at synagogue and be dressed up (usually in uncomfortable tights) and suffer. To me, those few hours were excruciating. But for the last few years, it really hasn't been so bad. It's actually nice to celebrate the new year. And since we're living in New Mexico, I get to go to the same temple I went to as a kid and it feels like home in a strange way...even if I didn't really enjoy my time there growing up. For the next ten days I am supposed to think very hard about the things I did wrong last year and I'm supposed to act like a model citizen so that I get written into the book of life for this coming year. Pretty heavy stuff...
A Rosh Hashanah tradition is eating apples dipped in honey to symbolize a sweet new year. Last night after dinner, my mom, dad, grandma and Neil and I sat around in my parents' living room and ate apples and honey. They were so good...and I couldn't figure out if they were actually amazing apples with amazing honey or if part of the reason they tasted so good was the company I was with and the tradition we were keeping.
On Monday, I am headed for the District. (I think this name for Washington D.C. is really amusing and have been overusing it lately) I sent my 25 umbrellas off with UPS a couple days ago and now have to figure out how to squeeze about 10 glorified tote bags in my suitcase. Ah the joys of planning an event. Today I have been fielding "What do I wear" calls. Hopefully, I will not get arrested for my weapon-like umbrellas, nor will I be eaten alive by any of the trip participants and I will return home alive and well Thursday night.
New Music Alert: The Postal Service's album Give Up is awesome. (Please note, the first track is titled "The District Sleeps Alone" and District is, in fact, referring to Washington D.C.)
Yesterday was Rosh Hashanah -- the Jewish new year. We are now in the year 5765 (I'm pretty sure about that). So, in honor of this day, I spent three and a half hours in temple yesterday. When I was little I used to hate the high holidays. They were the only two days of the year that I was guaranteed to have my little but in a pew at synagogue and be dressed up (usually in uncomfortable tights) and suffer. To me, those few hours were excruciating. But for the last few years, it really hasn't been so bad. It's actually nice to celebrate the new year. And since we're living in New Mexico, I get to go to the same temple I went to as a kid and it feels like home in a strange way...even if I didn't really enjoy my time there growing up. For the next ten days I am supposed to think very hard about the things I did wrong last year and I'm supposed to act like a model citizen so that I get written into the book of life for this coming year. Pretty heavy stuff...
A Rosh Hashanah tradition is eating apples dipped in honey to symbolize a sweet new year. Last night after dinner, my mom, dad, grandma and Neil and I sat around in my parents' living room and ate apples and honey. They were so good...and I couldn't figure out if they were actually amazing apples with amazing honey or if part of the reason they tasted so good was the company I was with and the tradition we were keeping.
On Monday, I am headed for the District. (I think this name for Washington D.C. is really amusing and have been overusing it lately) I sent my 25 umbrellas off with UPS a couple days ago and now have to figure out how to squeeze about 10 glorified tote bags in my suitcase. Ah the joys of planning an event. Today I have been fielding "What do I wear" calls. Hopefully, I will not get arrested for my weapon-like umbrellas, nor will I be eaten alive by any of the trip participants and I will return home alive and well Thursday night.
New Music Alert: The Postal Service's album Give Up is awesome. (Please note, the first track is titled "The District Sleeps Alone" and District is, in fact, referring to Washington D.C.)
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Umbrellas and Poor Planning
Next week I am going to Washington D.C. for the national Hike the Hill for credit unions. Fifteen people from New Mexico will be with our group and thousands of others from around the country will descend on the District as well. Our little group will be visiting our five legislators. (Other states have to make 15 or 20 visits and we only make five – yay for living in an under-populated state.)
As part of our visit to their offices, where we explain to them or their staffers how credit unions are different from banks and why we have a not-for-profit structure and deserve the tax-exempt status we are granted at the state and federal level, we always bring a gift. In June, we had little backpacks with pens and playing cards inside. This time, I decided to go all-out and order umbrellas with my company's new name and logo printed on them. Credit unions have been referred to as financial umbrellas for our members (shielding members from the financial storms of life – no, I am not kidding… that’s a bit too good to make up) so I thought it was clever idea. I looked through countless catalogues of promotional items and settled on some big heavy-duty umbrellas. They're not quite as large as golf umbrellas, but they're also far from the little cheap fold-up umbrellas.
So, I have had this large box of umbrellas in my office for a few weeks now and it only just dawned on me that we might not even be able to get them through security at the congressional office buildings. Each umbrella has a long metal point on top and they could easily double as weapons. Not only might they be banned by security, but I also have to carry them around the city with me. (Please note that we are giving two umbrellas to each office.) Some of the days we have meetings with two different legislative offices with lunch in between and a meeting beforehand. That means I could be carrying four large umbrellas from 8 a.m. until I drop the last one off at 3p.m. And I could be dropping it off in the trash can at the security station instead of in the arms of a New Mexico lawmaker...
Way to go Jodi... My bright idea has turned into a potential nightmare... not to mention the fact that I have to get these things on the airplane with me... Oh the joys of post-9/11 life (and poor planning).
Next week I am going to Washington D.C. for the national Hike the Hill for credit unions. Fifteen people from New Mexico will be with our group and thousands of others from around the country will descend on the District as well. Our little group will be visiting our five legislators. (Other states have to make 15 or 20 visits and we only make five – yay for living in an under-populated state.)
As part of our visit to their offices, where we explain to them or their staffers how credit unions are different from banks and why we have a not-for-profit structure and deserve the tax-exempt status we are granted at the state and federal level, we always bring a gift. In June, we had little backpacks with pens and playing cards inside. This time, I decided to go all-out and order umbrellas with my company's new name and logo printed on them. Credit unions have been referred to as financial umbrellas for our members (shielding members from the financial storms of life – no, I am not kidding… that’s a bit too good to make up) so I thought it was clever idea. I looked through countless catalogues of promotional items and settled on some big heavy-duty umbrellas. They're not quite as large as golf umbrellas, but they're also far from the little cheap fold-up umbrellas.
So, I have had this large box of umbrellas in my office for a few weeks now and it only just dawned on me that we might not even be able to get them through security at the congressional office buildings. Each umbrella has a long metal point on top and they could easily double as weapons. Not only might they be banned by security, but I also have to carry them around the city with me. (Please note that we are giving two umbrellas to each office.) Some of the days we have meetings with two different legislative offices with lunch in between and a meeting beforehand. That means I could be carrying four large umbrellas from 8 a.m. until I drop the last one off at 3p.m. And I could be dropping it off in the trash can at the security station instead of in the arms of a New Mexico lawmaker...
Way to go Jodi... My bright idea has turned into a potential nightmare... not to mention the fact that I have to get these things on the airplane with me... Oh the joys of post-9/11 life (and poor planning).
Monday, September 13, 2004
Old Man Gloom
This year was the 80th anniversary of the burning of Zozobra, a large puppet (60 feet tall, I believe) that is supposed to carry away all the gloom from the previous year as it goes up in flames. Every year, the Kiwanis Club in Santa Fe coordinates the event, builds the paper puppet and then sets him on fire on a hill above a large park. Over the years, the display has become more and more elaborate with increasingly sophisticated fireworks and other pyrotechnics. There are little kids dressed in sheets that dance around before the fires are lit and are supposed to represent the gloom that's about to be torched... then there are various dancers including one dressed in red (the fire dancer) who comes out and symbolically sets Zozobra on fire. While all the dancing is taking place, the puppet moans and groans and flails his arms around and the crowd chants, "Burn him! Burn him!" "Que Viva La Fiesta!" "Que Viva" and other less friendly things like "Burn the Motherfucker". When I was in high school, my friends and I used to yell, "Burn the puppet!" to be funny. Looking back, it really doesn't seem that funny at all...
After all the chanting and dancing, fireworks go off and Zozobra starts on fire.
I realize that this all probably sounds a little bizarre... but growing up with it as part of my tradition, I didn't realize how strange it was. In fact, it didn't seem strange at all. When I was little, my family would have a picnic on the field before dark and then hang around to watch the burning. Then in high school I went every year. When college came along, I also went every year because my school didn't start until a week or two after Zozobra. A small group of friends was usually still in town and we'd get together and go watch. But before last Thursday, I hadn't been to Zozobra in a long time. I'm pretty sure that the last time I watched Old Man Gloom burn, I was with my friend Carl who was battling a cancerous tumor in his brain and, at that point, winning. That was the last time I really got to hang out with him. I saw him briefly that winter over Christmas and then, in the spring, he died. But that year at Zozobra, we were all so alive as we watched our glooms go up in smoke and I drove him home and a group of friends talked and played music and everything was right in the world.
This year -- which I believe is five years after the Zozobra I attended with Carl -- was Neil's inaugural trip to Zozobra. It was very exciting...perhaps more so for me than Neil since I'd been wanting to drag him to the crazy pagan ritual for years. I think he had fun...Other than a fight breaking out in the crowd near us (the police broke it up right away) and Neil saying at one point, "I don't know how you grew up here," (this comment might have been fueled by the abundance of scantily-clad girls and gangster-looking guys on the field with us) he seemed to enjoy it. I enjoyed it too...at one point, when the crowd was at its craziest, I really missed Carl. I got that feeling I sometimes do when buried in a crowd, that all-alone feeling, even though I couldn't be further from alone...and I really missed my friend. But then I snapped out of it and started shouting and I held onto Neil a little tighter and let myself be swept up in the moment as Zozobra's mouth started spewing flames and he moaned and the crowd laughed and cheered as last year's gloom was incinerated, wiping the slate clean for the year to come.
This year was the 80th anniversary of the burning of Zozobra, a large puppet (60 feet tall, I believe) that is supposed to carry away all the gloom from the previous year as it goes up in flames. Every year, the Kiwanis Club in Santa Fe coordinates the event, builds the paper puppet and then sets him on fire on a hill above a large park. Over the years, the display has become more and more elaborate with increasingly sophisticated fireworks and other pyrotechnics. There are little kids dressed in sheets that dance around before the fires are lit and are supposed to represent the gloom that's about to be torched... then there are various dancers including one dressed in red (the fire dancer) who comes out and symbolically sets Zozobra on fire. While all the dancing is taking place, the puppet moans and groans and flails his arms around and the crowd chants, "Burn him! Burn him!" "Que Viva La Fiesta!" "Que Viva" and other less friendly things like "Burn the Motherfucker". When I was in high school, my friends and I used to yell, "Burn the puppet!" to be funny. Looking back, it really doesn't seem that funny at all...
After all the chanting and dancing, fireworks go off and Zozobra starts on fire.
I realize that this all probably sounds a little bizarre... but growing up with it as part of my tradition, I didn't realize how strange it was. In fact, it didn't seem strange at all. When I was little, my family would have a picnic on the field before dark and then hang around to watch the burning. Then in high school I went every year. When college came along, I also went every year because my school didn't start until a week or two after Zozobra. A small group of friends was usually still in town and we'd get together and go watch. But before last Thursday, I hadn't been to Zozobra in a long time. I'm pretty sure that the last time I watched Old Man Gloom burn, I was with my friend Carl who was battling a cancerous tumor in his brain and, at that point, winning. That was the last time I really got to hang out with him. I saw him briefly that winter over Christmas and then, in the spring, he died. But that year at Zozobra, we were all so alive as we watched our glooms go up in smoke and I drove him home and a group of friends talked and played music and everything was right in the world.
This year -- which I believe is five years after the Zozobra I attended with Carl -- was Neil's inaugural trip to Zozobra. It was very exciting...perhaps more so for me than Neil since I'd been wanting to drag him to the crazy pagan ritual for years. I think he had fun...Other than a fight breaking out in the crowd near us (the police broke it up right away) and Neil saying at one point, "I don't know how you grew up here," (this comment might have been fueled by the abundance of scantily-clad girls and gangster-looking guys on the field with us) he seemed to enjoy it. I enjoyed it too...at one point, when the crowd was at its craziest, I really missed Carl. I got that feeling I sometimes do when buried in a crowd, that all-alone feeling, even though I couldn't be further from alone...and I really missed my friend. But then I snapped out of it and started shouting and I held onto Neil a little tighter and let myself be swept up in the moment as Zozobra's mouth started spewing flames and he moaned and the crowd laughed and cheered as last year's gloom was incinerated, wiping the slate clean for the year to come.
Saturday, September 11, 2004
Oh, My Goodness ... Politics
Ok, so it's Saturday and I have spent the bulk of my day so far e-mailing friends about politics. I love politics, and I love political debate. I find great value in hearing other peoples' opinions and in expressing my own, as each time I make a political argument, it helps me to further clarify where I stand on issues. But right now I am exhausted.
I have one friend who was a liberal in every sense of the word, right down to vegetarianism and use of things like organic soap, who has now decided she supports Bush. We have lately been e-mailing each other articles we seem to think will convince the other person to switch sides... no luck so far. Then, I have two friends from other states who do my job for their states (we met at a conference) One of the friends thinks like I do and the other doesn't. They have consumed the bulk of my morning with witty political banter. Finally, I have a good friend who has found herself on the fence due to a lack of any good candidates but she is worried I might be mad or disapprove of her current political dilemma.
These three conversations probably caused me to write about 20 e-mails today alone about politics. While I am a little exhausted from it all... and I sometimes get frustrated when people don't see things the way I do, mostly, I am really thankful that I have such smart, inquisitive people in my life who can discuss politics in a civilized and intelligent way. And, I am invigorated by all of the great debate.
This morning’s manifesto – an incomplete, hastily typed out snippet of my politics:
I was just discussing this with a friend over dinner last night who said she doesn't like either candidate. While I don't think Kerry is the best thing ever, I do know a few things:
1) He will protect our environment more than the current administration
2) He will protect my rights as a woman
3) He won't make any federal laws outlawing equal rights for different groups (e.g. a law banning gay marriage)
4) He has good ideas about ways to improve both education and health care
So, in essence, Kerry is, or purports to be, the candidate who has my top priorities at heart and who thinks more like I do.
As for safety from terrorists, I am for it. I don't like terrorists. I don't want to be attacked. But, I have not seen, heard or read any compelling evidence that a Bush administration will do anything better than a Kerry administration in terms of protecting our nation. If we're going to be attacked, we'll be attacked. As for Iraq, I am not at all convinced that overthrowing Sadam made us any safer in terms of terrorists. In fact, it may have only increased the ire of people in that part of the world and inspired more people previously on the edge to lean toward fanaticism. I DO think that Sadam is evil and that eventually that country will be better off without him, but I am angry at the president and his team for misleading us and congress and our allies into starting that war and I strongly believe that our nations resources could have been better spent finishing what we started in Afghanistan and working on finding Osama Bin Laden and others like him who would do harm to our country.
Additionally, I think it's so sad that the U.S. went from being so well-loved internationally to having our athletes repeatedly booed at the Olympics last month and I believe that Kerry can help repair our international image... the stronger the international community, the better off we will be combating terrorism here and abroad.
Ok, so it's Saturday and I have spent the bulk of my day so far e-mailing friends about politics. I love politics, and I love political debate. I find great value in hearing other peoples' opinions and in expressing my own, as each time I make a political argument, it helps me to further clarify where I stand on issues. But right now I am exhausted.
I have one friend who was a liberal in every sense of the word, right down to vegetarianism and use of things like organic soap, who has now decided she supports Bush. We have lately been e-mailing each other articles we seem to think will convince the other person to switch sides... no luck so far. Then, I have two friends from other states who do my job for their states (we met at a conference) One of the friends thinks like I do and the other doesn't. They have consumed the bulk of my morning with witty political banter. Finally, I have a good friend who has found herself on the fence due to a lack of any good candidates but she is worried I might be mad or disapprove of her current political dilemma.
These three conversations probably caused me to write about 20 e-mails today alone about politics. While I am a little exhausted from it all... and I sometimes get frustrated when people don't see things the way I do, mostly, I am really thankful that I have such smart, inquisitive people in my life who can discuss politics in a civilized and intelligent way. And, I am invigorated by all of the great debate.
This morning’s manifesto – an incomplete, hastily typed out snippet of my politics:
I was just discussing this with a friend over dinner last night who said she doesn't like either candidate. While I don't think Kerry is the best thing ever, I do know a few things:
1) He will protect our environment more than the current administration
2) He will protect my rights as a woman
3) He won't make any federal laws outlawing equal rights for different groups (e.g. a law banning gay marriage)
4) He has good ideas about ways to improve both education and health care
So, in essence, Kerry is, or purports to be, the candidate who has my top priorities at heart and who thinks more like I do.
As for safety from terrorists, I am for it. I don't like terrorists. I don't want to be attacked. But, I have not seen, heard or read any compelling evidence that a Bush administration will do anything better than a Kerry administration in terms of protecting our nation. If we're going to be attacked, we'll be attacked. As for Iraq, I am not at all convinced that overthrowing Sadam made us any safer in terms of terrorists. In fact, it may have only increased the ire of people in that part of the world and inspired more people previously on the edge to lean toward fanaticism. I DO think that Sadam is evil and that eventually that country will be better off without him, but I am angry at the president and his team for misleading us and congress and our allies into starting that war and I strongly believe that our nations resources could have been better spent finishing what we started in Afghanistan and working on finding Osama Bin Laden and others like him who would do harm to our country.
Additionally, I think it's so sad that the U.S. went from being so well-loved internationally to having our athletes repeatedly booed at the Olympics last month and I believe that Kerry can help repair our international image... the stronger the international community, the better off we will be combating terrorism here and abroad.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
Overly Ambitious
This past Labor Day weekend was a weekend of over-inflated ambition. Allow me to elaborate:
On Saturday, Neil and I went on an anniversary hike. Ever since we moved here almost two years ago I have been wanting to hike with him in the Santa Fe Mountains. So I decided I would pick a hike and we'd finally do it. We woke up early, drove to Santa Fe and dropped the dogs off at my parents' house. Then we drove another 30 minutes to the top of the ski basin where the trail started. Our goal: get to an alpine meadow called Puerto Nambe and have a picnic... then possibly continue another mile or so to Spirit Lake. The distance to the lake: 5 miles. The altitude: 10,300 feet to 11,070 feet. Heh. The twist: it was a rare cloudy and drizzly day in Santa Fe.
So, we started the hike which kicks off with half a mile of
Finally, we got to the meadow which was huge and beautiful and brought back memories of my childhood when I camped there on a backpacking trip. But right as we sat down on a rock for a picnic it started pouring. Neil was wearing shorts and a t-shirt with his rain jacket and I wasn't doing much better in my thin pants and damp sweatshirt, so we started to be really cold and after scarfing our peanut butter sandwiches (mine had jelly, too) we quickly abandoned plans to go to the lake and headed back to the car. It rained nearly the entire way back and we were slightly miserable, especially since we really didn't get to rest at all before turning back. We got to the car about 4.5 hours after starting our journey and we had walked 8.5 miles and climbed about 750 feet. I definitely felt badass for making it...but we both agreed that it may have been smart to choose a slightly less serious hike for our pleasant anniversary celebration.
Sunday: The excess continues. After a fun time at the state fair where we saw baby goats and visited the petting zoo and almost bought another rabbit and ate some junk food and saw some junk-peddlers demonstrating things like salsa makers and magic mops, we went home and had a nap. When we woke up, we decided it was time to go to the grocery store and buy some green chile. It's chile season and most grocery stores are selling burlap sacks of chile and roasting it for free in the parking lot. A bag of chile only costs $9.99 and Neil and I decided we needed the large bag since the idea is to get all the chile you will need for the year, have it roasted, take it home, peel it and then freeze it for later use. So, we had the high school kid in the parking lot toss our chile into the big round roaster and watched as he fired it up and then turned the crank, rolling our chile around and around until it was scorched and smelled amazing. He threw it all into a big plastic garbage bag and we took it home in the back of the pickup truck. Then, we spent the next 3 and a half hours peeling and slicing the chile. It is not an easy process as some chiles are roasted better than others and the ones that are only partially roasted are nearly impossible to peel. You also have to be careful not to touch your eyes or nose or anything else sensitive while peeling because you will burn yourself. We peeled and peeled and the pile of chile in our sink didn't shrink until about midnight when we finally saw a glimpse of the sink's stainless steel at the bottom. By then our feet and backs hurt and our finger tips were burning like they were being held in flames. Around 12:30 we finished the job. I put all the freezer bags of chile in the bottom drawer of our freezer and we laughed hysterically because we probably have enough chile for three years. Neil remarked that he now understood why one woman in line for roasting only had a small plastic produce bag full of chile and the two of us went to sleep gripping ice packs in our hands to stop the burning.
On Monday, we continued our tradition. We went on a bike ride that was long but not too long but it involved a large hill-climb at the end and...we forgot our water bottles and it was hot. I was convinced I'd be walking up the big hill at the end, but other than about ten paces at the beginning when I was trying to get into my toe clips after getting off the bike at the stoplight, I made it up the whole hill... I was a bit slow, but I made it. And we got home and felt like we'd accomplished something.
I am not sure if there are any lessons to be learned from this weekend's excess... something like my eyes are bigger than my stomach or don't bite off more than I can chew.... but not related to eating??? Or maybe the real lesson is that I should continue to try to do things that are a little beyond what I think I can do because this weekend that strategy worked perfectly for me and Neil and I felt more alive than I have in quite a while.
This past Labor Day weekend was a weekend of over-inflated ambition. Allow me to elaborate:
On Saturday, Neil and I went on an anniversary hike. Ever since we moved here almost two years ago I have been wanting to hike with him in the Santa Fe Mountains. So I decided I would pick a hike and we'd finally do it. We woke up early, drove to Santa Fe and dropped the dogs off at my parents' house. Then we drove another 30 minutes to the top of the ski basin where the trail started. Our goal: get to an alpine meadow called Puerto Nambe and have a picnic... then possibly continue another mile or so to Spirit Lake. The distance to the lake: 5 miles. The altitude: 10,300 feet to 11,070 feet. Heh. The twist: it was a rare cloudy and drizzly day in Santa Fe.
So, we started the hike which kicks off with half a mile of
Finally, we got to the meadow which was huge and beautiful and brought back memories of my childhood when I camped there on a backpacking trip. But right as we sat down on a rock for a picnic it started pouring. Neil was wearing shorts and a t-shirt with his rain jacket and I wasn't doing much better in my thin pants and damp sweatshirt, so we started to be really cold and after scarfing our peanut butter sandwiches (mine had jelly, too) we quickly abandoned plans to go to the lake and headed back to the car. It rained nearly the entire way back and we were slightly miserable, especially since we really didn't get to rest at all before turning back. We got to the car about 4.5 hours after starting our journey and we had walked 8.5 miles and climbed about 750 feet. I definitely felt badass for making it...but we both agreed that it may have been smart to choose a slightly less serious hike for our pleasant anniversary celebration.
Sunday: The excess continues. After a fun time at the state fair where we saw baby goats and visited the petting zoo and almost bought another rabbit and ate some junk food and saw some junk-peddlers demonstrating things like salsa makers and magic mops, we went home and had a nap. When we woke up, we decided it was time to go to the grocery store and buy some green chile. It's chile season and most grocery stores are selling burlap sacks of chile and roasting it for free in the parking lot. A bag of chile only costs $9.99 and Neil and I decided we needed the large bag since the idea is to get all the chile you will need for the year, have it roasted, take it home, peel it and then freeze it for later use. So, we had the high school kid in the parking lot toss our chile into the big round roaster and watched as he fired it up and then turned the crank, rolling our chile around and around until it was scorched and smelled amazing. He threw it all into a big plastic garbage bag and we took it home in the back of the pickup truck. Then, we spent the next 3 and a half hours peeling and slicing the chile. It is not an easy process as some chiles are roasted better than others and the ones that are only partially roasted are nearly impossible to peel. You also have to be careful not to touch your eyes or nose or anything else sensitive while peeling because you will burn yourself. We peeled and peeled and the pile of chile in our sink didn't shrink until about midnight when we finally saw a glimpse of the sink's stainless steel at the bottom. By then our feet and backs hurt and our finger tips were burning like they were being held in flames. Around 12:30 we finished the job. I put all the freezer bags of chile in the bottom drawer of our freezer and we laughed hysterically because we probably have enough chile for three years. Neil remarked that he now understood why one woman in line for roasting only had a small plastic produce bag full of chile and the two of us went to sleep gripping ice packs in our hands to stop the burning.
On Monday, we continued our tradition. We went on a bike ride that was long but not too long but it involved a large hill-climb at the end and...we forgot our water bottles and it was hot. I was convinced I'd be walking up the big hill at the end, but other than about ten paces at the beginning when I was trying to get into my toe clips after getting off the bike at the stoplight, I made it up the whole hill... I was a bit slow, but I made it. And we got home and felt like we'd accomplished something.
I am not sure if there are any lessons to be learned from this weekend's excess... something like my eyes are bigger than my stomach or don't bite off more than I can chew.... but not related to eating??? Or maybe the real lesson is that I should continue to try to do things that are a little beyond what I think I can do because this weekend that strategy worked perfectly for me and Neil and I felt more alive than I have in quite a while.
This is the funniest picture taken of me this summer. I wanted to post it in my Blogger profile but cannot, for the life of me, figure out how to do that....Britten and I are jumping up and down because we were barefoot and the bricks on the ground were really hot. It's shortly before Rachel's wedding.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Devil Duckies
I have five tiny little rubber duckies with horns on their heads lining the top of my flat screen monitor at work. They're called Devil Duckies... and they come in assorted colors. I have purple, red, blue, yellow and green. I gave orange to my dad because he likes ducks. I keep these little ducks in my office because they make me laugh and they're cute in that mischievous way that little evil things are....
Sometimes when we have important people come into the office, I take the ducks down just in case they might offend someone who is deeply religious... or something. But things with the duckies got a little more complicated when my co-worker’s children started visiting the office frequently and talking about religion...
Flash back to two weeks ago...My newest co-worker and I were working on a children's newsletter and she included an activity in the newsletter that gave instructions for making slime. We thought we should test them out to make sure they worked so she bought various supplies including Elmer's glue and laundry detergent and we prepared to make the concoction when, two of our other co-workers children showed up. They were just back from camp (church camp) and were very excited to help us make slime. We were thrilled to have real kids to test out our slime recipe and we started the project... Sometime toward the end of our slime-making experiment (it really worked, by the way) the little girl asked us if we were Christians.
Whenever this type of question is aimed directly at me I get very uncomfortable. I am not exactly sure why I feel ashamed to be Jewish, or that it is something to hide, but I do. I suppose I have had enough people look at me strangely or act uncomfortable upon receiving the news that I have learned not to volunteer the information. But what do you do when you are blatantly asked: Are you a Christian? So, I said no and told the kids that I am Jewish. You could see little gears churning in their heads and the little girl started talking about how Jesus was Jewish and so on. I had to explain that I believe in the Old Testament, not the new one. She said, "Well, I believe in the whole bible." Then she started saying things like, "I know another JEW. We live next to a JEW." Later, when I was back in my office feeling slightly uncomfortable by her unwitting prejudice, she came back in and invited me to her birthday party that weekend. "Let's see, there will be one other JEW there," she said, as if that was very important to me, as if I couldn't socialize with people who weren't Jewish. I knew that she didn't mean anything she was saying maliciously, but it didn't help make me any more comfortable with the way she kept screaming JEW when she was around me. I went home and told Neil about it and we both agreed that perhaps this experience with me would help my co-worker's daughter to be more understanding later in life.
Flash forward to this week when our office received another visit from the same kids. The little girl came straight into my office (home of the devil duckies) and started raiding my drawer. She had done this before and somehow talked me into giving her half of my pens so today I was prepared. She picked up a purple pen that I really like and I said, "That's my favorite pen," in an effort to deter her from asking for it.
"What? That's your HEBREW pen?" she said.
My stomach sank. "No, that's my favorite pen."
"Oh, I thought you said HEBREW pen."
Awkward pause.
Little girl: "Those ducks are evil!"
Me: mind racing. Oh no, now they are going to think all Jews are devil worshipers or something... Aaak what do I say... "Oh, no, they're not evil; they're just cute little mischievous ducks."
The older brother, who was also in my office, sort of looked at me sideways and left my office. The little girl stayed and asked if she could braid my hair. I said OK since it was the end of the work day. But instead of braiding my hair, she gave me two pig tails on the very top of my head. Some coworkers walked by and laughed and as soon as she left my office, I took them out and didn't think anything of it... but when I related the story to Neil he got a concerned look, "Jodi, she gave you horns."
I don't think the horn imagery was deliberate... but I do wonder if I have failed to do my part as one of two Jewish people this little girl knows. It is difficult to suddenly become the spokesperson for a religion you barely practice...a culture you know you're a part of, but would be hard-pressed to accurately explain. I am not qualified to be one of two Jewish people that little girl has met. I have devil duckies in my office. She probably thinks I am going to hell…and I keep wondering if I have failed her by not setting a better example.
I have five tiny little rubber duckies with horns on their heads lining the top of my flat screen monitor at work. They're called Devil Duckies... and they come in assorted colors. I have purple, red, blue, yellow and green. I gave orange to my dad because he likes ducks. I keep these little ducks in my office because they make me laugh and they're cute in that mischievous way that little evil things are....
Sometimes when we have important people come into the office, I take the ducks down just in case they might offend someone who is deeply religious... or something. But things with the duckies got a little more complicated when my co-worker’s children started visiting the office frequently and talking about religion...
Flash back to two weeks ago...My newest co-worker and I were working on a children's newsletter and she included an activity in the newsletter that gave instructions for making slime. We thought we should test them out to make sure they worked so she bought various supplies including Elmer's glue and laundry detergent and we prepared to make the concoction when, two of our other co-workers children showed up. They were just back from camp (church camp) and were very excited to help us make slime. We were thrilled to have real kids to test out our slime recipe and we started the project... Sometime toward the end of our slime-making experiment (it really worked, by the way) the little girl asked us if we were Christians.
Whenever this type of question is aimed directly at me I get very uncomfortable. I am not exactly sure why I feel ashamed to be Jewish, or that it is something to hide, but I do. I suppose I have had enough people look at me strangely or act uncomfortable upon receiving the news that I have learned not to volunteer the information. But what do you do when you are blatantly asked: Are you a Christian? So, I said no and told the kids that I am Jewish. You could see little gears churning in their heads and the little girl started talking about how Jesus was Jewish and so on. I had to explain that I believe in the Old Testament, not the new one. She said, "Well, I believe in the whole bible." Then she started saying things like, "I know another JEW. We live next to a JEW." Later, when I was back in my office feeling slightly uncomfortable by her unwitting prejudice, she came back in and invited me to her birthday party that weekend. "Let's see, there will be one other JEW there," she said, as if that was very important to me, as if I couldn't socialize with people who weren't Jewish. I knew that she didn't mean anything she was saying maliciously, but it didn't help make me any more comfortable with the way she kept screaming JEW when she was around me. I went home and told Neil about it and we both agreed that perhaps this experience with me would help my co-worker's daughter to be more understanding later in life.
Flash forward to this week when our office received another visit from the same kids. The little girl came straight into my office (home of the devil duckies) and started raiding my drawer. She had done this before and somehow talked me into giving her half of my pens so today I was prepared. She picked up a purple pen that I really like and I said, "That's my favorite pen," in an effort to deter her from asking for it.
"What? That's your HEBREW pen?" she said.
My stomach sank. "No, that's my favorite pen."
"Oh, I thought you said HEBREW pen."
Awkward pause.
Little girl: "Those ducks are evil!"
Me: mind racing. Oh no, now they are going to think all Jews are devil worshipers or something... Aaak what do I say... "Oh, no, they're not evil; they're just cute little mischievous ducks."
The older brother, who was also in my office, sort of looked at me sideways and left my office. The little girl stayed and asked if she could braid my hair. I said OK since it was the end of the work day. But instead of braiding my hair, she gave me two pig tails on the very top of my head. Some coworkers walked by and laughed and as soon as she left my office, I took them out and didn't think anything of it... but when I related the story to Neil he got a concerned look, "Jodi, she gave you horns."
I don't think the horn imagery was deliberate... but I do wonder if I have failed to do my part as one of two Jewish people this little girl knows. It is difficult to suddenly become the spokesperson for a religion you barely practice...a culture you know you're a part of, but would be hard-pressed to accurately explain. I am not qualified to be one of two Jewish people that little girl has met. I have devil duckies in my office. She probably thinks I am going to hell…and I keep wondering if I have failed her by not setting a better example.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Mid-Week Anniversary Rambling
It's my second anniversary today... (And Neil's too, of course). It feels strange that we've been married for two years already. I have no idea how that is possible... but here we are on Sept. 1 again, so it must be true.
Neil is, thank goodness, flying away from New York and the Republican Convention as I type...Interestingly; his journalistic non-partisan assessment of the RNC compared to the DNC is that the RNC was infinitely more lame. I, of course, was pleased to hear that. But it looks like Bush is still going to get the post-convention bounce in the polls... I have no idea what's going to happen in 62 days on Election Day, but it promises to be exciting.
Tonight we're going to eat sushi and then I might take Neil to see Garden State, my new favorite movie. I saw it last weekend with my mom and grandma and cousin Pam and we all loved it. Neil doesn't always love the same movies I do... in fact, he doesn't often love any movies, but I have a feeling he'll like this one... It is by far the best movie I have seen in a long long time...
I'm off to celebrate!
It's my second anniversary today... (And Neil's too, of course). It feels strange that we've been married for two years already. I have no idea how that is possible... but here we are on Sept. 1 again, so it must be true.
Neil is, thank goodness, flying away from New York and the Republican Convention as I type...Interestingly; his journalistic non-partisan assessment of the RNC compared to the DNC is that the RNC was infinitely more lame. I, of course, was pleased to hear that. But it looks like Bush is still going to get the post-convention bounce in the polls... I have no idea what's going to happen in 62 days on Election Day, but it promises to be exciting.
Tonight we're going to eat sushi and then I might take Neil to see Garden State, my new favorite movie. I saw it last weekend with my mom and grandma and cousin Pam and we all loved it. Neil doesn't always love the same movies I do... in fact, he doesn't often love any movies, but I have a feeling he'll like this one... It is by far the best movie I have seen in a long long time...
I'm off to celebrate!
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