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.)
Friday, September 17, 2004
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!
Monday, August 30, 2004
Because I Am Too Lazy To Type It All Out Again
Jodi says:
so i got woken up before 6 by the fire alarm beeping for low battery
and we just changed the battery last week
and neil's gone
and it was the alarm at the top of our living room ceiling...(very high)
Britten says:
ugh.
what did you do?
call your landlord? hee hee.
Jodi says:
and the dogs were shaking and whining... sensitive ears..
Jodi says:
yeah... i actually did and they were no help...
but i got the ladder out of the garage (heavy dirty icky)
Britten says:
did you get a ladder?
Britten says:
oh -- yeah.
Jodi says:
and took the battery out
Britten says:
fun
Jodi says:
and it kept beeping
Britten says:
yuck.
Britten says:
ARGH!
Jodi says:
and we didn't have any more batteries
and i was late for a staff meeting
Britten says:
oh my.
sounds like a not-so-fun morning.
Jodi says:
so i got the dogs, put them in their crate and put the crate in the closet and shut all three doors between the closet and the living room
Jodi says:
and shut boo boo's room
Britten says:
poor boo boo!
Jodi says:
and then went to work... and after my lunch meeting i went home and got the ladder out AGAIN
Britten says:
oh my
Jodi says:
and put a new battery in that i bought on my way home (even thought the previous battery had been new too)
Britten says:
geepers.
Jodi says:
so, please cross your fingers that it stops and I don't have to collect my pets and move to a hotel.
Britten says:
My fingers are crossed.
Jodi says:
oh, and because of all the chaos, i forgot to wear my wedding ring for the first time in two years!
Britten says:
ACK!
Jodi says:
and my watch and earrings
and i felt naked
and i didn't eat breakfast either
Jodi says:
it sucked SOOO much.
Britten says:
my goodness.
Jodi says:
i can't wait to start over tomorrow morning.
Jodi says:
so i got woken up before 6 by the fire alarm beeping for low battery
and we just changed the battery last week
and neil's gone
and it was the alarm at the top of our living room ceiling...(very high)
Britten says:
ugh.
what did you do?
call your landlord? hee hee.
Jodi says:
and the dogs were shaking and whining... sensitive ears..
Jodi says:
yeah... i actually did and they were no help...
but i got the ladder out of the garage (heavy dirty icky)
Britten says:
did you get a ladder?
Britten says:
oh -- yeah.
Jodi says:
and took the battery out
Britten says:
fun
Jodi says:
and it kept beeping
Britten says:
yuck.
Britten says:
ARGH!
Jodi says:
and we didn't have any more batteries
and i was late for a staff meeting
Britten says:
oh my.
sounds like a not-so-fun morning.
Jodi says:
so i got the dogs, put them in their crate and put the crate in the closet and shut all three doors between the closet and the living room
Jodi says:
and shut boo boo's room
Britten says:
poor boo boo!
Jodi says:
and then went to work... and after my lunch meeting i went home and got the ladder out AGAIN
Britten says:
oh my
Jodi says:
and put a new battery in that i bought on my way home (even thought the previous battery had been new too)
Britten says:
geepers.
Jodi says:
so, please cross your fingers that it stops and I don't have to collect my pets and move to a hotel.
Britten says:
My fingers are crossed.
Jodi says:
oh, and because of all the chaos, i forgot to wear my wedding ring for the first time in two years!
Britten says:
ACK!
Jodi says:
and my watch and earrings
and i felt naked
and i didn't eat breakfast either
Jodi says:
it sucked SOOO much.
Britten says:
my goodness.
Jodi says:
i can't wait to start over tomorrow morning.
Friday, August 27, 2004
Far far away...
My little brother Dustin (who is actually quite a bit bigger than me at this stage in our lives, but used to be small -- see photo below) is flying away from me right now. He's somewhere on his way to Europe where he'll meet up with a group of college students and begin his nine-month adventure in Italy. I am really excited for him. But at the same time I'm a little sad that he's going to be so far away for so long.
I am not sure why it is better when he's in California at school. Maybe it's because I know he'll be coming home for holidays, or because I know it only takes a day or part of a day to get to him? And the time difference is only an hour instead of eight. There's something about the knowledge that if I really need to, I can get to him for a hug without major inconvenience and delay... because sometimes the best thing in the world is a hug from my little brother, or a shared laugh -- in person.
He was supposed to come by my house at 4:30 this morning to say goodbye, but was running late and called instead. I mumbled some incomprehensible stuff...the regular have fun, be safe, e-mail me as soon as you get there... and he said to have fun with my dogs and say bye to Neil and we hung up. I'm a little sad that I didn't get to see him -- get a few hugs to tide me over until next summer.
But mostly, I am thrilled about the experience he's going to have and the things he's going to learn. I am envious of him because I always wanted to study abroad and didn't because I was too afraid of missing out on something... and I admire him for taking the brave step and going.
So, I might worry a little. And I'll probably have a few times that I want to call him and can't because of the time difference and I'll certainly miss him a lot, but mostly, I am proud of him.
I always know this, but I suppose the reality of nine months without him just made me feel it more than usual: I have a really incredible little brother.
My little brother Dustin (who is actually quite a bit bigger than me at this stage in our lives, but used to be small -- see photo below) is flying away from me right now. He's somewhere on his way to Europe where he'll meet up with a group of college students and begin his nine-month adventure in Italy. I am really excited for him. But at the same time I'm a little sad that he's going to be so far away for so long.
I am not sure why it is better when he's in California at school. Maybe it's because I know he'll be coming home for holidays, or because I know it only takes a day or part of a day to get to him? And the time difference is only an hour instead of eight. There's something about the knowledge that if I really need to, I can get to him for a hug without major inconvenience and delay... because sometimes the best thing in the world is a hug from my little brother, or a shared laugh -- in person.
He was supposed to come by my house at 4:30 this morning to say goodbye, but was running late and called instead. I mumbled some incomprehensible stuff...the regular have fun, be safe, e-mail me as soon as you get there... and he said to have fun with my dogs and say bye to Neil and we hung up. I'm a little sad that I didn't get to see him -- get a few hugs to tide me over until next summer.
But mostly, I am thrilled about the experience he's going to have and the things he's going to learn. I am envious of him because I always wanted to study abroad and didn't because I was too afraid of missing out on something... and I admire him for taking the brave step and going.
So, I might worry a little. And I'll probably have a few times that I want to call him and can't because of the time difference and I'll certainly miss him a lot, but mostly, I am proud of him.
I always know this, but I suppose the reality of nine months without him just made me feel it more than usual: I have a really incredible little brother.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Catching Up
The Big News of the day:
After weeks of worrying about my teeth and imagining that I had at least eight cavities and would be needing serious gum surgery, I went to the dentist today and not only was everyone there really nice (unlike previous dentists) but they also said I have great teeth with no cavities! Strange how a good dentist visit made me so elated...
Where I have been:
Portland.
We visited Neil's family and friends for nine days which was a bit too long. We had at least four different social engagements daily and came home thoroughly exhausted and it was a tough trip at times because we were spread so thin... but overall, it was successful. We saw at least 50 relatives and 20 friends (including three of my personal friends). We spent a day on the Oregon Coast with Neil's mom and Grandma and Aunt. We went to the COOLEST dog store ever www.lexidog.com. We spent six hours biking and kayaking with Neil's dad in a self-made biathlon (semi-torturous at the time, but rewarding in the end). And, we met Neil’s best friend's baby, possibly the cutest baby I've ever met.
We got home Sunday and my parents were at our house with our dogs, who we missed a ton. Apparently, the dogs had a great socialization experience while we were away. They bonded with my parents (mostly my mom) and then went to a kennel for five days where they charmed all the employees (and didn't bite anyone).
Last night was the much-anticipated Dave Matthews Band concert. My fan club membership got us sixth row seats and it was amazing. Also amazing is how little sleep I have had over the last 12 days. Oregon consisted of about 6 hours of sleep a night on an air mattress and since then, I have not been doing much better. I thought I was going to fall asleep while having my teeth cleaned. But the chalkboard-esque scraping ensured that I didn't.
The concert brought up those pesky feelings that I should quit my job and follow my every whim in an effort to live the most fulfilling/authentic/quality life I can. Something about being surrounded by and filled with really good live music makes me feel more alive than I do in my day to day life... Other things bring about this feeling too: using my body (the biking and kayaking biathlon for example) being in nature, being with friends and family, reading something really well-written and thought-provoking, writing something I feel proud of (most recently my John Kerry essay, even if NPR didn't want it), traveling, seeing new things, meeting new people...I think there are some more... but at the moment, the exhaustion is taking over.
The Big News of the day:
After weeks of worrying about my teeth and imagining that I had at least eight cavities and would be needing serious gum surgery, I went to the dentist today and not only was everyone there really nice (unlike previous dentists) but they also said I have great teeth with no cavities! Strange how a good dentist visit made me so elated...
Where I have been:
Portland.
We visited Neil's family and friends for nine days which was a bit too long. We had at least four different social engagements daily and came home thoroughly exhausted and it was a tough trip at times because we were spread so thin... but overall, it was successful. We saw at least 50 relatives and 20 friends (including three of my personal friends). We spent a day on the Oregon Coast with Neil's mom and Grandma and Aunt. We went to the COOLEST dog store ever www.lexidog.com. We spent six hours biking and kayaking with Neil's dad in a self-made biathlon (semi-torturous at the time, but rewarding in the end). And, we met Neil’s best friend's baby, possibly the cutest baby I've ever met.
We got home Sunday and my parents were at our house with our dogs, who we missed a ton. Apparently, the dogs had a great socialization experience while we were away. They bonded with my parents (mostly my mom) and then went to a kennel for five days where they charmed all the employees (and didn't bite anyone).
Last night was the much-anticipated Dave Matthews Band concert. My fan club membership got us sixth row seats and it was amazing. Also amazing is how little sleep I have had over the last 12 days. Oregon consisted of about 6 hours of sleep a night on an air mattress and since then, I have not been doing much better. I thought I was going to fall asleep while having my teeth cleaned. But the chalkboard-esque scraping ensured that I didn't.
The concert brought up those pesky feelings that I should quit my job and follow my every whim in an effort to live the most fulfilling/authentic/quality life I can. Something about being surrounded by and filled with really good live music makes me feel more alive than I do in my day to day life... Other things bring about this feeling too: using my body (the biking and kayaking biathlon for example) being in nature, being with friends and family, reading something really well-written and thought-provoking, writing something I feel proud of (most recently my John Kerry essay, even if NPR didn't want it), traveling, seeing new things, meeting new people...I think there are some more... but at the moment, the exhaustion is taking over.
Monday, August 23, 2004
Monday, August 09, 2004
The Touch
The following is an essay I wrote with the hopes of getting it on the radio...possibly as commentary on NPR's Morning edition. I submitted a shorter version to NPR and haven't heard anything back... so here it is in its entirety:
I am new to the role of political supporter. As a newspaper journalist, I met or was in the same room as many prominent politicians. I covered events with Bill and Hillary Clinton, Laura Bush and others and while I may have been more excited about reporting on certain events, I never let it show. Now that I no longer need to remain impartial and am free to support candidates of my choice, I have a little trouble getting into it. At rallies I can’t bring myself to cheer or even hold a sign up for very long. I remain uneasy about making political donations and posting political bumper stickers on my car. And so, when I waited outside a Catholic church in Albuquerque, New Mexico’s Old Town this Sunday and to catch a glimpse of Senator John Kerry, I really didn’t know what I was in for.
Supporters were cordoned off behind ropes across the street from the church, and as I stood in the crowd, I longed for a press pass and notebook so I could get a better seat and not have to be a part of this giddy group. Despite the oppressive heat, the Kerry supporters were oozing enthusiasm. Their dedication impressed me and I thought about how surreal it would be to emerge from mass to see a few hundred people who all wanted something from you – a smile, an autograph, a handshake.
As I stood there watching various gray-haired congregants exit the church, I wondered whether I might miss Senator Kerry. Maybe I wouldn’t recognize him. Or maybe he’d walk out and disappear before I could catch sight of him. But there was no missing the Senator. He emerged and the crowd started cheering, and even in person, he looked larger than life. The New Mexico sunshine was helping – casting perfect light down onto the candidate. It was the kind of lighting that makes everyone look great and he was basking in it as he walked across the street toward the crowd.
Senator Kerry works the crowd with both hands, his eyes, and his mouth. While he’s shaking with his right hand, he’s looking at someone else and talking to yet another person -- maximizing his impact on the crowd with the tools he has. Occasionally, his left hand reaches out as well, one more point of contact, one more way to please his public and possibly get some votes.
By the time he works his way down to our end of the street he’s sweating in the heat. His wife Teresa has stopped right in front of me and is talking with a family like she knows them. I overhear something about them having met in Arizona, business cards are exchanged and I unashamedly stare at the woman who could be the first lady. She is more beautiful in person than on television or in the various newspaper photographs I’ve seen.
Kerry is moving more slowly. As he gets closer, the crowd cheers louder. “Help is on the way! Help is on he way!” drowning out the handful of Bush supporters that have shown up and mixed in. I think about how at a Bush event in New Mexico, everyone attending has to sign a form saying they will vote for the president…so they probably don’t get many hecklers. And even though I don’t like what they’re saying, I’m glad the Bush supporters are here.
And then, Kerry is upon us. Despite protests from my intellect, my body kicks into adrenaline mode and I start panicking about what I’ll say if I get to shake his hand. I wipe my palm on my jeans to make sure it’s dry. And laugh at myself. I had been wondering why all these people wanted so badly to touch this man. But now as he is a few paces away, it becomes clear to me. Or at least as clear as it can be. I want to touch him for so many reasons: I want to wish him luck; I want to be able to tell my grandchildren someday that I shook hands with the president on a campaign stop in Albuquerque; and then on some other much more basic level, I want a piece of him, a moment of his attention. I want to have a few seconds in time that I share with this man who is carrying the hopes and dreams of so many – including myself – on his shoulders.
I take a deep breath, stick out my hand and make contact. He grasps my hand in less of a handshake and more of a thumb war grip, or the first in a series of short grips and touches making up a secret handshake.
“I really hope you win,” I say loudly, but probably not quite loud enough. I’m looking at him, but even though I’ve got his hand, his eyes have already moved on down the line. “Thank you!” he says, but he probably wasn’t talking to me, so I stop looking at his face, shift my eyes to his hand locked with mine and let go.
The following is an essay I wrote with the hopes of getting it on the radio...possibly as commentary on NPR's Morning edition. I submitted a shorter version to NPR and haven't heard anything back... so here it is in its entirety:
I am new to the role of political supporter. As a newspaper journalist, I met or was in the same room as many prominent politicians. I covered events with Bill and Hillary Clinton, Laura Bush and others and while I may have been more excited about reporting on certain events, I never let it show. Now that I no longer need to remain impartial and am free to support candidates of my choice, I have a little trouble getting into it. At rallies I can’t bring myself to cheer or even hold a sign up for very long. I remain uneasy about making political donations and posting political bumper stickers on my car. And so, when I waited outside a Catholic church in Albuquerque, New Mexico’s Old Town this Sunday and to catch a glimpse of Senator John Kerry, I really didn’t know what I was in for.
Supporters were cordoned off behind ropes across the street from the church, and as I stood in the crowd, I longed for a press pass and notebook so I could get a better seat and not have to be a part of this giddy group. Despite the oppressive heat, the Kerry supporters were oozing enthusiasm. Their dedication impressed me and I thought about how surreal it would be to emerge from mass to see a few hundred people who all wanted something from you – a smile, an autograph, a handshake.
As I stood there watching various gray-haired congregants exit the church, I wondered whether I might miss Senator Kerry. Maybe I wouldn’t recognize him. Or maybe he’d walk out and disappear before I could catch sight of him. But there was no missing the Senator. He emerged and the crowd started cheering, and even in person, he looked larger than life. The New Mexico sunshine was helping – casting perfect light down onto the candidate. It was the kind of lighting that makes everyone look great and he was basking in it as he walked across the street toward the crowd.
Senator Kerry works the crowd with both hands, his eyes, and his mouth. While he’s shaking with his right hand, he’s looking at someone else and talking to yet another person -- maximizing his impact on the crowd with the tools he has. Occasionally, his left hand reaches out as well, one more point of contact, one more way to please his public and possibly get some votes.
By the time he works his way down to our end of the street he’s sweating in the heat. His wife Teresa has stopped right in front of me and is talking with a family like she knows them. I overhear something about them having met in Arizona, business cards are exchanged and I unashamedly stare at the woman who could be the first lady. She is more beautiful in person than on television or in the various newspaper photographs I’ve seen.
Kerry is moving more slowly. As he gets closer, the crowd cheers louder. “Help is on the way! Help is on he way!” drowning out the handful of Bush supporters that have shown up and mixed in. I think about how at a Bush event in New Mexico, everyone attending has to sign a form saying they will vote for the president…so they probably don’t get many hecklers. And even though I don’t like what they’re saying, I’m glad the Bush supporters are here.
And then, Kerry is upon us. Despite protests from my intellect, my body kicks into adrenaline mode and I start panicking about what I’ll say if I get to shake his hand. I wipe my palm on my jeans to make sure it’s dry. And laugh at myself. I had been wondering why all these people wanted so badly to touch this man. But now as he is a few paces away, it becomes clear to me. Or at least as clear as it can be. I want to touch him for so many reasons: I want to wish him luck; I want to be able to tell my grandchildren someday that I shook hands with the president on a campaign stop in Albuquerque; and then on some other much more basic level, I want a piece of him, a moment of his attention. I want to have a few seconds in time that I share with this man who is carrying the hopes and dreams of so many – including myself – on his shoulders.
I take a deep breath, stick out my hand and make contact. He grasps my hand in less of a handshake and more of a thumb war grip, or the first in a series of short grips and touches making up a secret handshake.
“I really hope you win,” I say loudly, but probably not quite loud enough. I’m looking at him, but even though I’ve got his hand, his eyes have already moved on down the line. “Thank you!” he says, but he probably wasn’t talking to me, so I stop looking at his face, shift my eyes to his hand locked with mine and let go.
Friday, August 06, 2004
Exhaustion
I have noticed that some periods of time are more exhausting than others. This may sound incredibly obvious... but I am not so sure it is... For example, some weeks go by very quickly -- I go to work each day and come home and it's Monday morning and the next thing I know it it's Friday afternoon. Those types of weeks go too quickly to feel exhausting or boring or monotonous (though they probably are monotonous). But then there are weeks like this one during which each day feels like three or four days and by the time Friday afternoon rolls around all I want to do is crawl under the comforter and hibernate. It is one of those Friday afternoons right now... I am soooo tired.
In fact, while trying to type a letter here at work this afternoon, I started nodding off. This was a dire situation not even coffee could fix it. I think I arrived in this end-of-week stupor because I only got six or seven hours of sleep each night this week, I started the week off with my late-night speeding extravaganza, my days at work have been uninspiring and long, last night I went to Santa Fe with Neil and we didn't get home until midnight...and I am sure there must be other reasons... like my binging on sugar this week and my overuse of caffeine.
What bothers me is that this insane schedule and lifestyle are not at all what I am striving for... How do I slow things down long enough to make the changes necessary to live a more balanced life? Or will things just balance themselves out eventually?
I have noticed that some periods of time are more exhausting than others. This may sound incredibly obvious... but I am not so sure it is... For example, some weeks go by very quickly -- I go to work each day and come home and it's Monday morning and the next thing I know it it's Friday afternoon. Those types of weeks go too quickly to feel exhausting or boring or monotonous (though they probably are monotonous). But then there are weeks like this one during which each day feels like three or four days and by the time Friday afternoon rolls around all I want to do is crawl under the comforter and hibernate. It is one of those Friday afternoons right now... I am soooo tired.
In fact, while trying to type a letter here at work this afternoon, I started nodding off. This was a dire situation not even coffee could fix it. I think I arrived in this end-of-week stupor because I only got six or seven hours of sleep each night this week, I started the week off with my late-night speeding extravaganza, my days at work have been uninspiring and long, last night I went to Santa Fe with Neil and we didn't get home until midnight...and I am sure there must be other reasons... like my binging on sugar this week and my overuse of caffeine.
What bothers me is that this insane schedule and lifestyle are not at all what I am striving for... How do I slow things down long enough to make the changes necessary to live a more balanced life? Or will things just balance themselves out eventually?
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
Ticketed
Last week, my dad got tickets to the Ani Difranco concert in Santa Fe. And on Sunday, I attended the concert with my parents and little brother... Going to a concert of a bi-sexual folk singer may not seem like the conventional family bonding activity... and I'm sure it's not... but for some reason, it worked for us. My parents went early and got in line, my brother showed up late, but the concert started late, so it worked out. Other than some issues with people smoking, and a terrible opening act, the evening was fun. I loved the concert, but wished she'd played longer than an hour and 15 minutes... I think my parents liked it and I still have no clue what Dustin thought... After a summer when I thought about going to lots of different concerts and was disappointed by one concert (Los Lonely Boys at the Albuquerque Zoo), it was a joy to rediscover the magic of live music.
Another Kind of Ticket
But then.... I had to drive home to Albuquerque in the middle of the night and Neil had just gotten home from Boston and I couldn't wait to see him and to get to bed and on my way the worst thing happened... I got a stain on my once spotless driving record. I can no longer say that I've never been pulled over for speeding. I can no longer say I've never had a ticket... I went almost 11 years without ever being pulled over; except for once in Utah because of a broken tail light...(I got a warning.)
I would describe the evil way in which the officer pulled me over (basically he tailgated me and made me think that an evil person was trying to run me off the road and kill me and then he turned his siren on)but I really don't want to talk about it...
I've been told that I'm being idiotically sensitive about this whole thing...but I don't care. I'm upset. I didn't want that ticket. I may have been speeding a bit (the cop alleges I was going 89 in a 75) but I still contend that I didn't deserve the ticket. I only went that fast for a couple minutes.. then I caught myself and everyone else on that highway was going faster than me.
Getting caught sucks. Basically, I went too long without a ticket... and now that my perfect record is ruined, I'm devastated... It's like the old woman who never had a cavity on the day she finally gets one... It sucks.
Last week, my dad got tickets to the Ani Difranco concert in Santa Fe. And on Sunday, I attended the concert with my parents and little brother... Going to a concert of a bi-sexual folk singer may not seem like the conventional family bonding activity... and I'm sure it's not... but for some reason, it worked for us. My parents went early and got in line, my brother showed up late, but the concert started late, so it worked out. Other than some issues with people smoking, and a terrible opening act, the evening was fun. I loved the concert, but wished she'd played longer than an hour and 15 minutes... I think my parents liked it and I still have no clue what Dustin thought... After a summer when I thought about going to lots of different concerts and was disappointed by one concert (Los Lonely Boys at the Albuquerque Zoo), it was a joy to rediscover the magic of live music.
Another Kind of Ticket
But then.... I had to drive home to Albuquerque in the middle of the night and Neil had just gotten home from Boston and I couldn't wait to see him and to get to bed and on my way the worst thing happened... I got a stain on my once spotless driving record. I can no longer say that I've never been pulled over for speeding. I can no longer say I've never had a ticket... I went almost 11 years without ever being pulled over; except for once in Utah because of a broken tail light...(I got a warning.)
I would describe the evil way in which the officer pulled me over (basically he tailgated me and made me think that an evil person was trying to run me off the road and kill me and then he turned his siren on)but I really don't want to talk about it...
I've been told that I'm being idiotically sensitive about this whole thing...but I don't care. I'm upset. I didn't want that ticket. I may have been speeding a bit (the cop alleges I was going 89 in a 75) but I still contend that I didn't deserve the ticket. I only went that fast for a couple minutes.. then I caught myself and everyone else on that highway was going faster than me.
Getting caught sucks. Basically, I went too long without a ticket... and now that my perfect record is ruined, I'm devastated... It's like the old woman who never had a cavity on the day she finally gets one... It sucks.
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