The Voters I Remember

Early Voting Day 1

The woman had a little kid with her. I scan her card to find her in the voter files. Look up. "Oh! I just voted for you! Wait, I'm probably not supposed to say that...."

As the couple were heading to different registration clerks, I heard her say "It's our first time voting together." I'd said the same words the day before as we filled in our absentee ballots at the kitchen table and smiled at them. Not that they saw, behind the mask and all.

Early Voting Day 2

Mother and daughter entered the center together. Mom went to one clerk, daughter came to me. We're working on getting her registered--she has her passport but nothing with her address. ("Not a problem, we'll use a special ballot.") At some point during the paperwork, she mentions being up since 2 this morning. "Has quarantine turned you nocturnal?" "No. My dad died this morning. But I'm still here to vote." Later, when the clerk next to me shouts a celebratory "First time voter" and the cheers erupt, I wish I had thought to do the same for this Gen-Zer.

The older woman who told me it was her first time voting. She was wearing a purple raincoat and had crossed the city to come to our center because she heard it had a shorter line. (I didn't lead cheers for her either.)

The joy of the Nats fans having a way to wear their jerseys, caps, and masks into the stadium. Even if it's not for a game. (Though I also delight in the guy who wore his Boston Red Sox gear. Turns out I like sports teams much better than political teams.)

Early Voting Day 3

The woman wore a shirt from the Southern Baptist affiliated but looks non-dom praise band church around corner from me. She may have needed to update her address (I never was clear which place she currently lived at and which was old). It was clear that her drivers license hadn't been updated. --People are telling me they can't get in until March. Though one guy who signed up for an appointment months ago has it on his calendar for January.) Not a problem! Do you have anything with your address on it that you can pull up on your phone? A lease? A paycheck? A bank statement? A bill? "No. They're all in my husband's name." She presented as privileged, so it didn't hit me until after she walked away. Not even a bank account with your name on it? Really? My neighbor clerk said it best, "I didn't think those women existed any more."

The trickle of people coming in to vote, even on a rainy day.

Early Voting Day 4

The guy wore a bespoke suit, but I complimented him on choosing to wear the US flag mask to vote. "Oh, thank you. Not everyone appreciates it." I would've squinted at him, but we'd had enough confusion already. By the time I finished updating his registration, I wasn't surprised that he was Republican.

Early Voting Day 6

It'd been a slow shift, but I appreciated that the woman working the door sent people to each registration clerk in turn. It meant we all knew that the next person who walked in was going to table 9. "You're heading to the back, but you need to stop by my table first!" It was one of my church sisters. Someone who I had asked for her thoughts about the election back when we had a slate of candidates for the primaries and could sit side by side on a couch in the Sunday School room eating snacks after church. After I signed out for the day, I saw her in front of me at the exit. We walked towards our homes, talking.

Early Voting Day 7

Ainsley Hayes lives next door to me. Or at least a current, non-fictional counterpart? Blonde. Southern. Registered Republican, but in a tone of voice that is consistent with my headcanon that Ainsley currently works at the Lincoln Project and is not voting for the current resident of the oval office.

Last Day of Voting

The mother, daughter, and grandchild who came in together (only the first two could vote). The woman, a couple of years older than me, who was there with her 18 year old daughter.

The marine whose proof of residence was a letter from a commanding officer. He wanted to vote in Ohio, but the ballot didn't make it in time, so he used the same-day registration to cast his ballot here.

The cheers when first time voters submitted their ballots. Echoing across the school gym.

The woman who, when she was leaving, said, "Go Joe! Who ya'll voting for?" We couldn't tell her, but we knew.

Saturday morning peace*

Dear God,

We praise you this morning for the wonderful world you created and gave us. We woke this morning to blue skies and growing plants and the songs of birds in the air. We read messages from loved ones and hear the voices of family and friends and we know that we, too, are loved. Thank you!

But God, there is horror in the world. We are keeping distance from people who don't live with us in an effort to protect everyone from disease. We hear sirens out the window. We hear stories of deaths that don't make sense. We see the evil around us and we know it is not the life that you want for us.

Be with us. Help us to unite together for healing. Repair our broken bodies. Bring rest to our troubled minds. Mend our wounded souls.

We believe in the sacrifice of your body, broken on the cross. We believe in the power of the resurrection from the grave. Let us be your body in the world, united in your glory.

Amen

* Emailed to a church friend in response to a prayer request

after I asked if there were actions for us to support our family

And it was good

God created human beings;
        he created them godlike, 

Reflecting God’s nature.
        He created them male and female.
God blessed them:
        “Prosper! Reproduce! Fill Earth! Take charge!
Be responsible for fish in the sea and birds in the air,
        for every living thing that moves on the face of Earth.”

Then God said, “I’ve given you
        every sort of seed-bearing plant on Earth

And every kind of fruit-bearing tree,
        given them to you for food.

To all animals and all birds,
        everything that moves and breathes,

I give whatever grows out of the ground for food.”
        And there it was.

God looked over everything he had made;
        it was so good, so very good! 

It was evening, it was morning— 

Day Six.

Genesis 1: 27-31 from Eugene Peterson's interpretation in The Message

 

 

Is there a better time to reflect on our stories of creation than when we gather in the face of destruction? When we pause to consider what we have wrought, that is the time to remember what we have been given. And what we give to each other.

I wanted a sign to reflect my religion--to say, "This I believe. And this, too, I believe."

We are responsible.

120,056

Blessed were the miles

Adventures along the way

Minnesota to 

South Dakota, Chicago, 

Michigan, Texas, and all

The homes we found in between

Blessed be the journeys

Along new routes and with a

New supporting cast 

May you enable access

To a life of diverse paths

On being United Methodist and in a new home this Lenten Season

I went to the big church across town for worship last Sunday. The service was a balm for my soul. You can watch the service here. Highlights included:

• The welcome.
• When the pastors and staff give a joint pastoral statement following general conference. 
• The sermon.

I don't know when I last witnessed a sermon with such a long standing ovation.

~~~

But as much as the worship was what I needed, I don't think it's the congregation for me.

As much as the banners and the flags symbolize the welcome mentioned at the beginning of the service, I don't think it's the congregation for me.

Because I am particular person about my congregation. And I want to be welcomed personally. And if I arrive before the service starts, and ask, "Is this seat available?", and pass the peace, and offer kleenex, and sit through the postlude, and weave my way through the groups of friends chatting, to wait in line for a handshake out the door, AND no one says something to the effect of, "Hi, I don't know you. I'm Me. Welcome." Then, the welcome is said, but not performed. I'm not cast out, but I'm not brought in.*

~~~

The church down the street is small. Average attendance maybe 40-strong. Every time I have walked into the building, they have greeted me and asked my name. As I left the Ash Wednesday service, multiple people said, "See you Sunday!"

Their worship style is not what I'd prefer. Less high liturgy. (I'm becoming more Lutheran all the time). Not reliant on the organ. They're not as outspoken about general conference, and I'm not certain where they're going to land--though they are on the reconciling ministries homepage. The sermons don't give me the same inspiration.

But they are clearly ministering to the community. 

And they welcome me.

~~~

After I shook the robed hand at the door, I snuck back in another entrance toward the fellowship/welcome hour. Found my way to a desk and asked where I could pick up the Lenten devotional booklet they put together. Walked over and was handed one being told it "was my name on it." The man was very friendly. But he did not know my name.

~~~

I walked forward for the ashes.

"Hope. It says Hope." He told me as he pressed the rock into my hand and handed me a prayer book. I looked at the word written with a permanent marker.

~~~

Hope.

Hope in the face of a denomination that fights against the way I believe we are called to go.

Hope on the day I reflect on mortality. On the liturgical anniversary of my grandfather's death. On the day I hear the news of his sister's impending death. On the day I'm told of the death of a friend's child.

Hope.

~~~

How to repent this season? How to grieve? How to hope?

 

For myself, I'm renewing my daily lectionary reading and following the books from both churches.

I'm only allowing myself on Musher Twitter** and Religious Twitter.***

And I'm going to try to write more. Sometimes in my journal. Sometimes as prayers for friends. And maybe even, sometimes here.

* The counterargument is that the people near me could also be visiting. But the woman to the right knew the words to the welcome the pastor offers at the beginning of the service. And the man to the left was greeted by name by the men behind. And I did shake the hand of someone in a robe when I was exiting the building.

 

** Because giving up Musher Twitter in the middle of the Iditarod would be hard. And not hopeful.

*** I don't know a hashtag for Religious Twitter. It's not my usual scene. Suggestions of who to include in light of this post are welcome.

My first time (all the cool kids are doing it)

-->

My strategy when I was depressed yesterday was to:

1) Actually finally push myself to make the phone calls to my congress-peeps.

2) Text my parents and sister that I'd called. (Sister and I agreed at Christmas that we'd love to get our parents to call. Their rep, in particular, is someone who I want to have hearing support.)

2a) Get really excited when mom said she may need me to talk her through how to get established. End up researching her congress-peeps, finding numbers, writing out a script, and sending to her.

2b) Slip back to depression when mom emailed back that she's not going to call this time. (I understand her reasons. Still sad.)

2c) More hope after my mom forwarded my email to her liberal friends. Follow-up with all of them about my experience calling.

3) Text a handful of other friends that I'd called and asked if they had yet. Know I successfully got one person to call for his first time.

4) Reply on Twitter to woman I met once five years ago talking about her calling experience.

Someone said to make the calls even more effective, we should be going public.I think there are various levels of what going public means. Sometimes it's posting on social media, sure. Sometimes it's having conversations with the people you know who maybe you don't talk about this stuff with usually. And sometimes it's giving high fives to cheer on the community that you have. 

~~~

Call My Congress was a helpful landing page for me. Linking to Open Secrets was fascinating.

~~~

My sister says it's like calling in your pizza delivery. You need to know the number you're calling (probably not Domino's, go with a local joint), what you're asking for (pepperoni no olives/Affordable Care Act),  and where you live (so they can deliver the pizza/know you're a constituent). 

Like at the pizza place, they're much more used to receiving the calls than you are to making them. Having a script planned helped me this time, the same way that I would practice my order before calling the pizza place back in the day.

Conversation with the only other person in the office

Cute German (CG): Are you being productive?
Me: I'm setting up a date for tomorrow?
CG: Like a date date?
Me: An OKCupid date. A first date. bounces on ball
CG: I guess that counts. Productive towards your future.
Me: Yes! And once I finish this message I can go back to my work productivity, writing about....marriage.

Yes, really.

Split

We were at the end of the third date. He'd already bought my movie ticket. I made a point of getting the concessions. When he was in the restroom I looked at the check and put my credit card in the folder. And directed the waiter not to take it, that I wanted him to pay half. (Hey, the restaurant was more expensive than I would have chosen.)

~~~





You probably won't be surprised by what happens next. Maybe you're more accepting of cultural norms than I am. Maybe you've dated more than I have an had made your peace with them. Maybe you've only dated people you already knew so it's no big deal.



~~~

He returns. I indicate that he should pay. There is confusion about where the pen is. I point out that we haven't sent it back yet. He pulls out his credit card, slides mine back across the table.

"No, really. Let's split."

"But you're a student." And you make plenty of money. 

I hate that. It feels like a trump card. We're both tired, even though it's the situation for a conversation, it's not the time for it.

"True. Thank you."

~~~

I know it's the norm, but it irks me enough that I start asking friends how I can get off the "subsidized meal plan" on early dates. I'm not trying to date to get free meals.

I learn that the answers are better when I ask about split checks on first dates. I learn guys think it's a bad sign when their date wants to split. I learn that women will let the guy pay first and offer to get the next one. But only if they like him.

I hear about the strategy of getting to the coffee shop early and getting your own drink before the date shows. I hear about women in Sweden yelling at the guy who insists on paying.

I don't get an answer I can put into action. I'm not comfortable making that scene. And even with my standard (free) first date, eventually we'll be at a place where I can't order ahead.

~~~

My feminism worries that the men in my sample are more adamant that the guy should pay than the women are. That the only guys I ask who think it's a good sign if the women wants to split, follow immediately with "but I'm a feminist." That women who want the guy to pay usually add "I'm old-fashioned that way" or "I'm southern like that" or "I'm traditional about that."

"Don't worry about it. Let they guy pay," the crowds tell me again and again. "You'll let friends pay for you, won't you?" "Money doesn't mean the same thing to everyone." "Maybe this is the way grown-ups do things."

The feminist in me listened when my math minded other told me it's better to be the match partner making the offer than the one reviewing offers. An explanation of love not being fairly divided between men and women that has everything and nothing to do with gender.

What else are people old fashioned about?

~~~



Two weeks into this informal conversational therapy, I've learned why I'm so uncomfortable.

I'm proud of my independence, financial and otherwise. Yes, that independence is supported by a wide community that I look to for support. There are many people who take care of me. There are many people who I take care of.

On a date like the one above, you are not one of those people. You're auditioning to join them.

I have an action plan for the next time I'm caught trying not to get my credit card back. I'll ask why. Knowing my own response is more than a sputtered, "because…but..but...but...feminism" makes me feel more confident that I can push that discussion.

Even when I'm tired.

Neighborhood love

I'm sitting in my "home office" aka the coffee shop across the street.* The mail carrier is walking back to his van. He stops. Bends at the waist. And brings his hands to his face binoculars style to look at me while I wave hi. Because we are adorable like that.

*This is the place that I wanted to go to once a month. 

I've never managed that. 

But this month they've become my BFFs. 

I mean, they know my mom and ask after her. 

And I carry $2.46 in my bag to pay for my first cup of tea.

Reason #325 I'm glad I visited Nicaragua

From e-mail sent to my friends last Friday.

Hi dears ,

I haven't been feeling well since sometime on Tuesday. Told my family I had an unhappy gut. Yesterday on my way home, I checked with parents for advice. We agreed that the possibility that I picked something up in Nica made it worth going ahead and getting to the doctor sooner rather than later. 

Doctor wasn't sure what was going on. Symptoms weren't really parasite. Not really flu. You still have your appendix? I was sent home on watch and wait with instructions to go to er if I had pain get worse or started a fever of 100. 

So when temp was 99.1 at 6 and 99.3 at 6:30 last night, I called a friend to take me in. The ct scan gave a clear diagnosis of appendicitis. Apparently nasty too. This morning the surgeon who took it out last night was trying to assess my pain. Is it worse than last night? Last night was never all that bad. But your appendix looked like a kielbasa sausage.

So, given all of that, I am very glad that I thought it might be a parasite and worth visiting the doctor. And also glad that I don't. (This is so much easier to diagnose and treat in the US.)

Feeling fairly well now. Sore but I was just given more pain meds. My ant is with me. Mom is flying out. I will probably go home this afternoon. Hope your life is less exciting than mine at the moment ;)

Love,

Me

~~~

Mom flew home this morning. I have a Google doc with friends signed up to visit me every day for the next week. I'm planning on going into the office everyday next week. Though I'm not promising a full day there any day. Healing is an exhausting process. And it's naptime again.

Thoughts across summer

A friend is on the PhD job market this year. A process I am closely watching because, y'know, that will be me next year. She definitely wants to continue the research path, but has a take it or leave it  attitude toward academia.

Until her dream job posted an open search.

It's at her undergrad college, which she loved. In a department she minored in. In the school she majored in. With a possible joint appointment to the department she majored in. In a town she would be thrilled to have a family in. It's a dream she couldn't fully imagine for herself until it became possible.

We were talking about the application process. How to write the cover letter to reveal passion without coming off like a crazy person. How the chair of the search committee received a PhD from the program my friend is graduating from. Her adviser used that connection to e-mail the chair, asking when the committee was scheduled to meet. Helpful information for knowing how soon you have to get your application in the pile. Also, helpful to have the chair looking for your application.

"What about your college professors?" I ask. "Have you talked to any of them to get a sense of what the department's like from the faculty side?"

She laughed me off, "It's been 14 years since I graduated. Who would know me?"

~~~

I'm joining a book club. The book we're currently reading is Radical Homemakers, which I expected to resonate with me. The premise that we're better served by focusing our lives on relationships instead of materials, is a belief I espouse, even as I fall short of its goal. The idea that choices within the home are a political statement is one I absorbed in the heartbeats of my parents' house. More with Less has been a staple of my bookshelf and I hoped Radical Homemakers would slide in beside it.

It's not going to happen. There's too much about the book that frustrates me. I like the summary of the back cover. In the introduction I could imagine myself as the 20-something interviewee, wondering about embracing this lifestyle. But reading on I've decided I'm not her target demographic. And if I'm not, I don't know who is.

~~~

At a family reunion last month, I skipped Monday night dinner to visit my professor's family. I took her class in fall junior year. In winter, I babysat her daughters. They played, "let's get in the car and drive to Denmark!" My reaction? "Okay, so we're driving across the ocean now." I didn't learn until later that Denmark was a small town where they spent long weekends and summers. And I didn't realize until I studied the map that this summer's family reunion was 30 minutes from Denmark.

So Monday, I drove up a hill overlooking the water and through the woods to the house that her husband had built. After sticking my head in the house to confirm they weren't yet home, I wandered the yard admiring the garden.

The girls who exited the car had middle school manicures. Tall with braces on her teeth and a shyness of occasional visits, the oldest still raced to show me the fairy house they'd created the night before. "See how the flower is, here? That's where she lay her head. And the food is gone! The food is gone!"

We picked salad from the garden and shared family news. I told the parents about my research plans. Was updated about my professor's research and what she knew of my classmates. I asked the girls about school and camp and friends. Remembered the way I carried a string around my neck to play cat's cradle at their age. We pulled out some yarn and I taught them Jacob's Ladder. When I left, I took a multicolored loop of yarn with me in my pocket.

~~~

The book says that radical homemakers rethink the givens in society and come to seven conclusions.

1) Nobody (who matters) cares what (or if) you drive.
Okay. I can do this. I am not giving up my car anytime soon. But I'm all for walking and public transit systems.

2) It is okay to accept help from family and friends, to let go of the perceived ideal of independence and strive instead for interdependence.
Right on. Community.

3) Housing does not have to cost more than a single moderate income can afford (and can even cost less).
I like this in theory. I've also been helping friends with their fixer-upper. Based on my knowledge of their finances, I think we need to talk about what a moderate income is.

4) Child care is not a fixed cost.
Yay community?

5) Retirement is possible, regardless of income.
I'm saving.

6) Education can be acquired for free--it does not have to be bought.
Erm….Well, the government can pay for it?

7) Health can be achieved without making monthly payments to an insurance company.
Um.. What now? I'm healthy now. But I'm keeping my insurance given the likelihood of someday needing some major health care and the extreme costs of that and the way things are negotiated in this country thank you very much.

~~~

I could have gone to college for free. I mean, I didn't apply to those schools, but I had a friend at the state school who was getting paid a living stipend as an undergrad. College may not have made me money, but there were cheaper options.

I chose the expensive option.

It was absolutely the right choice for me.

I believe the  not everyone must go to college to be successful. I believe that education should be accessible to anyone. I believe that education needn't come from an institution.

But the institution served me well. It let me build relationships across generations. While at college we subdivided into different groups, out of that sphere I'm excited to run into other alumni because they have similar values.

Questioning whether a place is a good fit for you? Wondering what you will gain from the cost of your education? I can support that journey.

But only if you accept that the expensive option may be worth it.

What is leadership’s relationship to education? -- My response

In April of my first year teaching a student commented, "Remember last year when I didn't like you and wouldn't do the work?" I think it's fair to say I was a terrible classroom leader my first semester. The student who remembered not doing work had been part of a group walkout protesting my class, one of my low points as a teacher.

Looking back to diagnose what went wrong, I suspect a large part of my leadership failure was due to a clash of cultures. I set-up my classroom to make me a formal leader, but I was entering a culture that has a history of only following decisions as long as the group agreed with them. I entered with an attitude of knowing what we needed to achieve that year, but my students came from a culture that listens to everyone before taking action. The trappings of leadership that I knew were not the leadership my students recognized.

I improved as a teacher-leader.  I listened to the elders and began to internalize the values of my community. I tried to incorporate the values into my teaching. I'm not sure it can be taught, but I am proof it can be learned. My proof? The students who walked out of my class in the fall came in for extra tutoring in the spring.

Logistics fail? Or an explanation of the next post

The warning signs were there. The request was last minute (though I was never actually told the deadline). I sent a couple of questions back and the reply took longer than I was expecting.

Normally favor requests from strangers get lower priority. But the request got at something on my list. Would I be willing to write a short op-ed or two for a "Room for Debate" style feature for an undergrad online magazine? 

Extra points because the professor who recommended me is the person I've been asking about her experience with the Op Ed Project.

So I wrote a piece. Had a couple of people proofread (THANK YOU!). Submitted it.

And didn't hear back. 

Didn't see anything on the magazine's site with my name. 

Eventually found the second part of the feature. I'd submitted for the first part.

I understand if I submit to a major outlet, I might not hear back from the editor. But it's not that major. And you requested it.

I e-mailed again. Is the piece going to run? If you don't have immediate plans, I'd like to rescind my submission and publish it on my blog. 

I figure now's as good as time as any to actually publish. 

(But I'm not checking the op-ed submission box on my life list yet.)

Weekend snapshots--Booze, food, money, and love

I got the drugs and alcohol talk from my mom this weekend. She's not sure we had it when I was in high school.  Apparently, the latest is that if I have alcohol in my apartment, it's okay to not hide it when my parents visit.

~~~

After inviting a friend over for brunch, I asked list guy:

Do you want lemon poppyseed scones with omelette for breakfast or  kaiserschmarrn?
Whatever.

I started making the scones. Then realized I didn't have black poppyseeds. A cup of flour, cup of sugar, and zest from one lemon are waiting patiently. 

And I'm thankful I had the perfect number of eggs to follow the recipe of the breakfast dish that's our favorite for lazy weekend mornings.

~~~

21. Invest in stocks/mutual fund beyond the work retirement fund

After sending off my taxes for 2012, I put half my savings account toward opening a Roth IRA. I'm excited that I invested in a socially responsible mutual fund. Because I think it's important to be mindful about who I'm supporting with my money.

Some of my money is in a fund that specifically targets companies that work toward gender equality. The top companies are still banks and tech and big names you'd recognize. But it's intentionally chosen to be places where women are represented on the board and in senior management. (I'm choosing not the be disillusioned by the fact that we get excited when there are three women on a 14-member board.)

I also chose a fund that focuses on the environment. Energy efficiency and water infrastructure and technologies make up half the fund. Renewable energy is only a tiny sliver of the big picture.

Anyway. An excited check.

~~~

We went to the delicious neighborhood Purevian restaurant. Ordered a pitcher of Pisco Sour mix. Let them add from the Pisco I'd bought on the way over.

A pitcher might be more than two people should split.....Maybe. Especially if one of those people is me?

Added the liquor to my booze shelf. Hidden from my parents above the kitchen sink.* Will probably try making them at home sometime. Need to get his mom's recipe (I had it last summer). But until then, there are plenty of other cocktails to try.

~~~

I'm out of fresh fruit and was too lazy to go to the grocery store. Got my fruit and veggies fix by making my first, second, and third green smoothies.

A cup of OJ + some slices of frozen ginger + 3-5 leaves of kale.
Added chia seeds twice.
Frozen strawberries once.
Frozen blueberries another time.

Smoothies without the kale are better. But I like this for a certain I've-been-eating-too-much-fat-and-sugar mood.

~~~

After seeing the current show on our subscription to the nearest theater, we talked about various taboos. (Warning, judging other people's relationships ahead.)

Same-gender love? Totally cool with it.
Introducing your new lover to your mistress? Enh. Open-relationships seem difficult. But if everyone's on board and ya'll discuss it go for it. Summary, to break taboos you have to break taboos.
Making moves on someone twice your age? Somehow age gaps feel less remarkable in real life when I know the people. Age gaps in fiction feel creepy.
Forbidden love between cousins? Sometimes taboos are taboo for a reason. At least promise you won't get each other pregnant or anything like that.

~~~

Finally, happy shoutout to mm who was able to meet list guy AND visit my church. And got eat delicious sandwiches. Still excited you're near for now!

*It's always been there.

 Conveniently not in the way of everything else. 

I even think there was alcohol up there the last time they visited.

Mis metas

49. Learn enough Spanish to:
a) translate the spam texts I receive.
b) understand what's happening when I surf the radio.

~~~

Duolingo has finally gotten me in the habit of practicing Spanish daily.

At least it's been 3 weeks of something like this. I give myself weekend forgiveness if I'm not by an internet connection.

And, for the first time since high school, I'm honestly enjoying learning another language. They've done a great job of setting up the site like a game--pulling on the same sort of motivation that kept me going on Chip's Challenge back in middle school. I feel like I might actually be learning Spanish. (Though my favorite sixth-grade native speaker will laugh and correct my pronunciation when I tell me, "Mis zapatos son negros.") Figure it's time to set a couple of goals for the world beyond my computer.

Sesame Street is Genius

Today's lunchtime conversation wandered to the genius of Sesame Street. It's what happens when you have lunch with the parent of an almost two-year-old.

I requested a list of their favorite videos. Have now been watching for an hour. At least...



I think this is my favorite of the bunch.



Though Will.I.Am also makes me happy.


And India Arie is the two-year-old's favorite.

Hints of beginnings (aka maybe there's hope that I'll graduate after all)

On the bus, I sat to the grad student who I most frequently share an office with.* He'd been out late the night before celebrating with a friend who completed the job market process. Obviously this gets the two of us talking about our current state of "I-have-no-idea-what-next-year-is-going-to-be-like-itis."

But I'm getting an inkling that our advisor is beginning to start what I think of next year....now. (I guess it makes sense. One market ending means the next one's beginning. It's time to recruit the high school juniors to college and all.)

Other Grad Student: I wonder if he's going to have us all go out for dinner at the conference.
Me: Nah. I never see him at conferences.
OGS: He tried to organize something that one time. Of course, it didn't work out.
Me: I think I was behind that.
OGS: That sounds about right.

That afternoon got an e-mail from my advisor inviting me and a handful of his other past and present students to dinner at the conference.

Oh.

* Actually, not my officemate. Funny phrase for a reason.

I was going to write a longer post

and talk about who I hang out with at conferences

instead of my advisor.

Or, often, other people from my program.

But I finished my oatmeal and should go catch the bus again this morning.  

More thresholds

I called my favorite listmaker over lunch on Friday to tell him we were spending the weekend at his parents place.

1) Weekend at my place was canceled on account of broken boiler=no heat.
2) He needed to stop by his parents  to pick up more eyes.
3) Roads weren't looking good and the forecast was worse and I was tired enough that driving probably was a bad idea and I'd rather take the train to them than the bus to him.

On the train, I told my parents I wasn't sure if his parents knew yet that we'd be there. (By the time I got off the train, they did. Turns out they were out of town this weekend anyway. We helped ourselves to ingredients in the fridge and left them ice cream.)

Noting, it's a different level of comfort when someone says, "You can stay here anytime" and the point where you have an anytime come up and assume you can stay with them.

One thing I'm glad I don't have to repeat

If there's a non-awkward way to have your parents who live far away meet your mid-distance boyfriend, I didn't find it.

But everyone's in their respective homes again, so we're over that hurdle. Also, beyond the hurdle of first-significant-other-to-meet-the-parents (you're welcome, sissy.)

The Spice Rack

"The reason to have a wedding is to get your spice rack."

So, I got her a spice rack.

~~~

The story's more complicated than I remembered, so a reference for myself.

~~~

Some years ago, a young woman entered grad school. Far away, her friends were getting married by the dozens (or maybe half-dozens or quarter-dozens, but even that feels like a lot of weddings). The moved into houses with cute lawns, a couple of bedrooms, and full kitchen complete with a spice rack. In short, they were settling into a grown-up life.

Meanwhile, our heroine was making do in the squalor of a graduate program. Crappy apartments. Rushed hours. No time for homemaking a place that couldn't feel like home. It was a fine life, a life that would lead to what she wanted to do. But it's not one that felt grown-up. Something was unfulfilled.

Enter the older man. A man that has the adult details worked out for himself. He invites her to join him and she does. A grown-up life.

Only it's not. We won't go into details, but it was a bad relationship. Finally she divorces him. Rebuilds life for herself from the ground up. She wonders what got her into the relationship in the first place. What was so attractive about him?

And she realizes. She wanted the life with the spice rack. She wanted the grown-up life. It wasn't the man that attracted her. It was the idea of marriage and a life fulfilled.

Since then she presents her gifts shortly upon the news of engagement. A spice rack. And a question, "Is this what you're wanting? Does this fulfill you? Cause if it does, let's reconsider this life you're looking at."

A reminder to think about what's motivating the marriage. And hey, a pretty good present besides.

~~~

She told me she was engaged. I responded I'd get her a spice rack. Great! Are there spices that I should gather for you in the city? Check out the Korean store. The fiancé served in Korea and misses the food. What spices does he need? Nobody seems to know. They requested an adventurous mix. I took advantage of an excuse to visit multiple ethnic groceries.

~~~

Before I left, though after the wedding certificate was signed, I had her open the spice rack. She read the names. Sometimes I was able to tell her what it was for. You use these to flavor sushi rice. Hing powder in Indian dishes. Fenugreek? That's good for breastmilk, her new aunt pipes up. She looks at me. Breastmilk? What are you getting me, woman?

I have no idea my friend. I have no idea.