My nephew Chris is coming to visit for a week next week, which should be fun. Turns out he likes computer games as much as me & paula, so we should be able to get some good "research" in. In other news, Paula and I hiked the Lookout/RiverOfRocks/GoldenEagle/Skyline Trail at Hawk Mountain today, which is about three miles and took two hours. It was a good hike and left us with a good kind of tired. I love that place. It's exactly what's needed to balance out my otherwise video/digital life.
Monday we picked up our new Aeron chairs ... only $750 apiece and loving 'em, of course. We then drove to NYC with Robin and her daughter Lizzy. A friend of Robin's was celebrating his restaurant's third year. The party was notable for the number of guys checking *me* out and not Paula. We then drove home with Lizzy and Paula singing nearly the entire two hours. "My sleeves are falling down, falling down, down down."
"Ah, not to be cut off,
not through the slightest partition
shut out from the law of the stars.
The inner -- what is it?
if not intensified sky,
hurled through with birds and deep
with the winds of homecoming."
- Rilke
Tonight Paula and I grilled some steaks and ate dinner on lawn chairs, looking out at the sunset. We listened to the birds and tried to describe their calls to each other. We watched them fly in from across the valley and swoop with a practiced ease straight to our bird feeders. (We then ran inside because a swarm of beetles appeared out of nowhere, but I digress.)
In these last few months of near constant work stress, I've took solace by studying the stars and constellations. Together, Paula and I have spent beetle-free nights looking up with binoculars, trying to spot the patterns. We've found Arcturus and Spica and Virgo and Bootes.
There's a deep soulful consolation in connecting with the birds and the sky. There's an expanding peace about it. The outer connects and calms my inner. My muddled mind clears as it reflects itself in the natural, in the spirit, in the moment.
Spiderman, Spiderman, Spiderman. What a great game.
In other news, I walked into a store yesterday to talk things out with someone that chewed me out last week, simply because I'd rather not have bad feelings exist in my world if I can help it. I even did it one better by offering a favor when I really didn' t want to, because it was (as Paula said), "the Tim thing to do." Something about her phrasing it that way made me feel good. Principles are a good thing when you're stressed to the gills and your compass is spinning. Do the right thing simply because it's the right thing, not because you want to.
Who knows what brings these bouts of sadness. But they happen. Just once in a while I want I could curl up in a ball and cry….. I think of days gone by…..of lost friends…of my mother….of the smiling face of my dad. It’s an ache deep inside my chest as if my heart were breaking…I feel that deep aloneness that I understand everyone feels at times, but it seems so personal, so unique.
I use to panic. To think I needed to fix something. I looked quickly for something to fill it….a movie, chocolate, a glass of wine…. Now I almost cherish these times. They make me turn to myself for comfort….for nourishment…for connection.
And of course, I listen to sad songs.
And then it passes like a dark cloud overhead.
Yesterday, Paula and I took off at 4pm to do something we've talked about for years: drive down 309 an hour to see the Lizell showroom. Why? Well primarily because it's the closest place that has Aeron chairs on display. These $800 beauties are the one thing I miss from my year at Lotus. They're incredible. I wanted Paula to sit in one. She of course loved it. We can get two for $1500, and Lizell even stops selling them in a month.
Who knows what we'll do, but the important thing is that it was a fun drive and a fun time. We ate at a nice Italian restaurant and then went to Best Buy and bought Spider-Man for the PC. We then of course drove straight home and played it till two.
It's just the greatest thing to have a buddy like Paula. I'm so thankful when we play. We have so much fun. Even on an everyday day like yesterday ... it's such a gift.
If you would have told me a decade ago that I would be watching the food network, buying specialized cookbooks, and whipping up a storm in the kitchen, I would have rolled over laughing. I used to cook as a practical matter back in my 20s, making bread, trying to be macrobiotic or vegan or whatever, but that quickly gave way to studying musical scores, writing papers, and planning choral rehearsals. I even stooped so low as to go to an occasional McDonald’s in my 30s.
So, here I am.... a new house, lots of land about me, a great kitchen….and what do I want to be?….Susie Homemaker! Where did all my radical feminist training from the 70s go? I want a clean house, a good meal, and a beautiful flower garden. Is this the new feminism of the millennium? I still have my job (that I return to in 3 short months), and certainly things will change back to a more consistent frenzy. But I hope to safeguard some of the calm, happy, content, nurturing environment that has taken me a year to build.
And not go to McDonalds!!
Last night, while Paula and Christie were fighting off drunken twenty-something's at an Alanis Morrisette concert, I sat in darkness in our backyard with a pair of binoculars, looking up through the cloudless sky at the Big Dipper, the North Star, Arcturus, and others. I've been reading an astronomy book for about a week. Last night was our first clear night.
There's more of a glow from Allentown than I would have liked, but I could see quite a lot. Next time we'll bring out Paula's nifty telescope and see what we can see.
Today I called an aquaintence, a local shop owner, to pass along some advice about websites. Near as I can tell, she must have thought I was trying to sell her, because she was extremely rude from the get-go. She completely blind-sided me with rudeness on the phone, then called up another potential client and yelled at him about me. Now I'm sure she was just having a rotten day and was blowing off steam, but I've been floored all day by the degree of her rudeness, particularly since I was just trying to be helpful.
It's always a surprise when others assume I've got some ulterior manipulative motive, since I pretty much mean what I say and say what I mean. It's just how I live. Whenever I realize someone just doesn't trust me, it's a shock. Why so much fear?
Last year, we had about a dozen deer that slept on our lawn every night. Last hunting season, most of the adults were probably killed, as I rarely see older deer now. They've stopped sleeping on the lawn. During hunting season, I wanted to say to the deer, "Just stay on our lawn. You're safe with us. Just trust us, we won't harm you." If they had listened, they'd still be alive.
Here's the thing: even if the deer could understand my plea, they'd have absolutely no reason to believe me. Here's why ... all the hunters would be saying the same thing. After a while, the deer would wise up and stop trusting.
Same thing with people. I'm not a hunter, but they don't know this. They haven't nothing to fear from me, but there's no way I can convey this. All I gotta say is I'd hate to live in fear like that. It'd truly suck.
Here's a great question: what are we thankful for? It's a question I'd do well to ask myself more frequently. There's the biggies: a wonderful marriage, an amazing house, two terrific kitties, etc. I'm usually mindful all day of these.
It's the little things I overlook. Case in point: we had a wonderfully wicked thunderstorm that blew through a few hours ago. On top of our hill, we can see the whole show. Tonight we watched the lighting in the distance, with meandering jaggedy spikes, like glass breaking. We watched torrents of rain shooting past our houselights, shifting directions with the wind. We drove down to get our recently emptied recycling bin, lest it blow away into a neighbors yard.
What a trip a summerstorm can be. Easy to forget, but now that I've typed it here, we won't!
This blogging idea is new to me. I enjoy writing in a private journal, but it’s not natural for me to record my thoughts publicly. Yet, when I read someone else’s writing about a personal experience or about a fear or struggle, I do feel strangely close to that person.
But what do I have to say that would interest anyone?
A lot, says Timothy. And I’m trying to believe him.
So, here’s my blog.
Yesterday morning, Paula, Robin, and I talked about weblogs and just why it is people write them. Robin wanted to know why I'd want to write openly in a public forum.
It's a good question, and one I've been thinking a lot about. Blogging isn't just about making a home movie. It's about declaring your right to be real by expressing yourself in an every day way. When I read someone's blog, I feel a part of a much larger tapestry of human coolness. I feel less alone, less afraid, and more empowered to create & cherish the life I'm living. When I write in a blog, and imagine others reading it, I feel like I'm doing my part to continue this cycle of realness. The whole thing just makes me feel free.
Just got back from a wonderful drive with Paula in the Miata through farmlands and woods. I got a hankering for Yocco's Hot Dogs, so we drove along Vera Cruz to Emmaus (the long way of course!), then got our dogs in the drive-thru, then stopped at the Sanctuary to eat lunch and take a leisurely walk through the forest, along the Little Lehigh River. The weather was mild, the sky is clear, the company was perfect!
If life's about making memories, then we've been doing some good living lately!
Getting older is not always easy. Every month there seems to be a little (and not so little) ache or pain that adds itself to the list. It makes me realize how little I appreciated my slim, lithe, 20-year-old body at the time. Of course, now I need to recognize that I could easily be doing the same thing and in 20 years look back on this time and see that, again, I wasn’t happy with myself in the moment.
So, what’s the moral of the story? Same one we get a lot of the time. Enjoy yourself! Be grateful for who you are and what you have, for time goes very fast.
Even our cats don’t seem to escape this fate. We had a little scare with Chlöe last night. She was gagging a little and scratching at her mouth. It ended up in a vet trip and lots of talk of potential medical problems. I just love my little kitty and I want her and her sister, Ishtar, to live forever. Is that so wrong? But they, too, are changing with the years, (although, admittedly Ishtar still looks 4, not her real 14).
So, why is it so hard to remember that every minute of the day precious?