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.

Highlight of being sick while living alone

Registering that List Guy had said his half of the good night litany and hung up the phone. Realizing that I didn't have a clue how long I'd been asleep. Guess I'll find out when we compare how far he read with how much I remember.

Magenta paintbrush and lupine

I have a new favorite flower. In case anyone wants to remind me of my grownup goal of frequent bouquets. 

Only problem is,  don't think you get this feeling in a vase.

 Hard to believe I was there a few weeks ago

That said, the routine of normal life was a nice return

Text conversation to make me smile

me: hey, think tomorrow can end up working. pick me up at the train station at 2h15?
friend: sounds good! see you then!
me: yay! will want to do work for part of time, but can catch up too
friend: No worries, it will be good just to see you before I go!
me: exactly. one final in person taking advantage of the summer. cause who knows when we'll live even this close again. (is that sad to say? it doesn't feel it.)
friend: Hey. I'm expecting some good times together in the nursing home, ok?
me: that will make it easier for your 128-year-old self to attend my funeral :)
friend: that's right, it's all about efficiency!

My phone's old fashioned.

If I want to archive conversations,

typing them up for here is the best choice.

The Honeymoon

They drove from Minnesota to Ohio. (From her family to his.) No pre-planned route. No itenerary. Just point the car in the approximate direction and stop when there's something interesting.

People go tubing at the Wisconsin Dells. Probably in truck tire tubes. Because cars' just aren't that big. They didn't go.

The bed in that one hotel SAGGED. Here you have to gesture a large U across your body. Otherwise you might not realize how depressed that bed was.

They took a ferry across Lake Michigan. The ferry was already loaded when they got there, so they got to drive straight on. Everyone else was driven on by the ferry staff.

The restaurant on board served lunch from 1 until 2. They got there right after it closed. So they made do with a couple of candy bars.

She got motion sick and lost hers.

Ooops.

But the steak at dinner that night, after they were on solid ground, was delicious.

Tell me about Papa--the classic story

She was working at IBM. He was in ag chem.

Both on the third floor, separated by a wall.

They both took the back elevator down one day. It went to the parking lot. Why she was going that way is unclear--she didn't have a car.

(Did the Columbus have streetcars then? She doesn't think so. But Minneapolis did when she lived there. They'd take it across town from home to work. Leave a 7 in the morning to be there by 8. Often they were the first to break tracks in the night's snow. But I digress.)

He liked her suit and said so.

"Thank you, I made it myself."

~~~

I tell you, I come from good people.

Grandparents say the darndest things

I've had a great sufficiency and any more would be a flipsy-flopsy.

~Nana quoting Papaw

After Gram died, he cooked for himself. Apparently he was always happy to fix steaks when he had company.

I'm not sure if you know this, so I thought I'd tell you

Sea stars are real.

Nods head.

I'm still more of a mountain person than a beach person, but the highlight of our recent family vacation to Olympic National Park was tidepooling.

We weren't even there for the good tides. Because, you know, the tides vary with the moon. The highs are higher and the lows lower near a quarter moon. We were there for an almost flat tide. The park rangers don't even do the tidepool activities then.

But the rocky outcrops are a new experience for us. You don't see anemones on our sandy shores. And starfish. They're real.

Lest I remember my success and forget my frustrations

The last time I went sailing ended with tears.

We'd meant to go the day before, but a late bus threw off the rhythm of the day and we opted for lazy reading instead. But the morning was beautiful, so we skipped church and headed to the water.

I'd never rigged the boat without my usual partner before. It was so much slower without her splitting the tasks. But I'm not at the point of being able to tell others what to do. So with List Guy stood around feeling useless I pulled sheets, threaded sails, and tied knots.

We finally got out to the water. Hoorah. But getting into the boat with someone who doesn't know how to do things, also, harder. We were deep enough that I had trouble jumping in. He couldn't steer the boat in the meantime and it kept moving.

I finally got in. And we got stuck in the sandbar.

I got rescued by the staff. At least it was my favorite guy there. Embarrassed I followed his directions to start again.

And again, I couldn't get into the boat.

If we had the time, I would have worked it out. But I knew it would still be slow going when I got in. And there was an afternoon bus to get the Guy to. Bags to pick up on the way. Preferably eating some lunch too.

So I called it. Tears of giving up when I knew I could get it, should have done it already. Disappointment in myself. Still embarrassed by my mistakes. And maybe, still a bit sleep-funked from two nights before.

We went back to shore. Derigged the boat. He's promised it won't be our last time. The club near him is cheaper. He has friends who are members. We'll see.

Moving Melancholy

There is no reason why this move should churn up emotions.

None.

I'm switching offices. We all are. It's an office switch-a-roo. I'm not saying goodbye to people.* I'm not  changing job descriptions.** I'm not even having to carry all my books myself.***

And yet, sitting beside my boxes, sorting through the papers I printed for classes, deciding what to keep and what can be recycled, there it is.

Part sadness. Part nostalgia. Part anxiety about the future and what comes next. The wondering of how things will work in the new place.

It's ridiculous. Especially when compared to other people who are actually MOVING. Friends who are moving across country for grad school. Colleagues who just bought a house. My sister texted me WHILE I WAS SITTING NEXT TO THESE BOXES saying that she'd just left the house where she's spent the past year. For the last time. My switch has NOTHING on them.

But sometimes you have to embrace the ridiculous to get past it. Acknowledge that this comes from years of past moves, stress about not getting as much done as I feel like I should, and the reminder that relationships are changing all the time.

So I'm heading home early today. Stopping by early tomorrow so I can get to my plants before the movers do. And counting on the excitement of unpacking to be as refreshing as the current mood is draining.







*At least not people who I couldn't stop by and say hello to on pretty much any workday.

** Well, not any more than if I'd been in the same office anyway. And really, I'm glad to be at the point where I'm done taking classes.

*** Since it's the Grand Switch-a-roo they're getting movers. I am spoiled I tell you. Spoiled.