Last weekend, a friend stopped by, someone I've known for almost twenty years, someone for whom I have a lot of respect and admiration. Our state rep of many years' standing is retiring and my friend is running for the newly opened position. I would be proud and happy to call her my rep, I'd be delighted to vote for her, EXCEPT that there's someone else whom I'll probably vote for, someone else I think is much more qualified and who would be even better at the job. And, in my opinion, this someone else has a much better chance of winning the election.
So after my friend and I had chatted for a few minutes and she asked "So, would you like a lawn sign?" I had to answer carefully and find some part of the truth. The truth is that in our neighborhood, we typically don't post lawn signs and it helps keep the peace. I happen to know that our neighbors across the street are at real variance with us on most items of public policy. We are on good terms. I'd like to keep it that way.
And even if I were voting for my friend, I'd be hard-pressed to put up a sign for her.
My friend kind of cocked her head at me and said that she'd noticed that in my town, we tend not to put up lawn signs and she'd wondered why. Such a relief.
Am I a chicken or just barely managing to keep the peace? And does it matter?
Saturday, August 16, 2008
almost a boondoggle
Robert and I were privileged to spend a couple of days and two nights at the recently-renovated Mountain View Grand hotel, courtesy of my employer. It was a little like summer camp with a bunch of responsible, fun, funny, and likeable coworkers and their families. We had a couple of business meetings that were actually full of content (who would have thought it?), very helpful for getting us all on the same page as we think about next steps after our upcoming deadline.
(And as an aside, I have to contrast this retreat with the only other one I've been on, where the behavior was, perhaps, more predictable and infinitely more horrifying. It's so reassuring to know that my earlier impressions of coworkers were fairly spot on -- that there are no slimy things crawling around under those rocks.)
We got to pick "activities." A highlight for me was an hour-long kayak ride on a beautiful, almost entirely unspoiled lake. I also went to a wine tasting, which was very fun despite the fact that I didn't fall in love with any of the wines, not even the super-expensive ones. Over the few days, we talked to a bunch of people, and that was nice because usually people are too busy to chat at work. And we sat on the porch a bunch and looked at the stunning view.
Mostly, we relaxed. Robert needed a good break given that he's been working toward an awful deadline of his own, trying to correctly guess at how to write code that was underspecified and underdesigned. He needed to just sit for a while and stare off into the distance, too.
Yesterday, we started our journey home with a trip to a fire lookout tower that we climbed and then realized was occupied. We had a great conversation with the ranger who's 80 years old and full of stories and good spirit. Then we did what we call "noodling" -- Robert drove back-country roads while I navigated. We passed by beautiful countryside and even went over a covered bridge (then turned around and drove back over it to continue our journey). We traveled through charming little towns. We stopped for lunch in a town that is trying its hardest to be charming and we actually discovered its hidden secrets, including a phenomenal bakery. We sat on their back porch and watched the river and stared into space some more. We drove until we ran out of back roads, then hopped on the highway and stopped at one of our favorite restaurants on the way home.
OK, so I'm not particularly looking forward to going back to work on Monday, but this was a good break and I do feel a lot more energized than I did at the start of last week. We have a big deadline this week and perhaps a little more time to clean up after that before turning our attentions to our next set of assignments.
(And as an aside, I have to contrast this retreat with the only other one I've been on, where the behavior was, perhaps, more predictable and infinitely more horrifying. It's so reassuring to know that my earlier impressions of coworkers were fairly spot on -- that there are no slimy things crawling around under those rocks.)
We got to pick "activities." A highlight for me was an hour-long kayak ride on a beautiful, almost entirely unspoiled lake. I also went to a wine tasting, which was very fun despite the fact that I didn't fall in love with any of the wines, not even the super-expensive ones. Over the few days, we talked to a bunch of people, and that was nice because usually people are too busy to chat at work. And we sat on the porch a bunch and looked at the stunning view.
Mostly, we relaxed. Robert needed a good break given that he's been working toward an awful deadline of his own, trying to correctly guess at how to write code that was underspecified and underdesigned. He needed to just sit for a while and stare off into the distance, too.
Yesterday, we started our journey home with a trip to a fire lookout tower that we climbed and then realized was occupied. We had a great conversation with the ranger who's 80 years old and full of stories and good spirit. Then we did what we call "noodling" -- Robert drove back-country roads while I navigated. We passed by beautiful countryside and even went over a covered bridge (then turned around and drove back over it to continue our journey). We traveled through charming little towns. We stopped for lunch in a town that is trying its hardest to be charming and we actually discovered its hidden secrets, including a phenomenal bakery. We sat on their back porch and watched the river and stared into space some more. We drove until we ran out of back roads, then hopped on the highway and stopped at one of our favorite restaurants on the way home.
OK, so I'm not particularly looking forward to going back to work on Monday, but this was a good break and I do feel a lot more energized than I did at the start of last week. We have a big deadline this week and perhaps a little more time to clean up after that before turning our attentions to our next set of assignments.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
out of the blue
Just as we were finishing dinner last night, the phone rang. It's usually someone trying to extract money either for a charity or in exchange for services. I ask to be put on their do-not-call list and go back to what I was doing. But last night was different.
"May I speak to Ms. Blaugustine please?" "This is she." (barely able to contain my impatience)This is Isaac." Deep breath. "Well hello Isaac!"
Most people who know me know that I have a brother who's lived in fairly exciting places, whom I like a lot, and of whom I'm extremely proud. This brother and I share a mother but not a father.
Most people who know me don't realize that I have two other brothers with whom I share a father but not a mother. Isaac is one of those brothers. He is five years younger than me, one year younger than my sister (the only sibling with whom I share both parents). I've never met my third brother, but I do know his first name and I know that he was born in early January 1975.
But Isaac, dear Isaac. The last time we spoke was perhaps 15 years ago. We were at a family reunion which we had scheduled after my grandfather died. We had a few days together in Michigan. On one of the last evenings, we sat down for dinner with the plan for each person to take a turn to speak about our grampa.
After we were seated, Isaac, of whom I'd been quite fond, and for whom I'd named one of my first cats, turned to me and said "You know, I've never liked you." Things went downhill as he continued to speak. Of course, he'd been drinking gin all evening, huge tumblers of it. Isaac spent the rest of the evening in the backyard. As an aside, the family gathered around me, each one coming up in a quiet moment to offer words of reassurance or a heartfelt hug. I felt amazingly loved.
Isaac has gone on to not have a relationship with our father -- I'm not sure of all the ins and outs of that. He has been in touch with my aunt and uncle who have maintained a thread to the family and, I guess, encouraged him to call me.
We didn't talk a lot. He said that he's been living in Montreal. He was well spoken. It sounds like he's an artist, struggling, but making art, as his very talented mother did. I'm sure I sounded very cautious, perhaps a little confused. He mentioned several times that he was an "idiot" last time we saw each other. He asked for my sister's email which I gave him (heads-up! incoming!). And he said he'd send me email and let me know what he's been up to.
Sometimes, sitting quietly and not reacting can yield unexpected results. I guess at this point I'm curious, perhaps a little hopeful, and we'll see what happens next.
"May I speak to Ms. Blaugustine please?" "This is she." (barely able to contain my impatience)This is Isaac." Deep breath. "Well hello Isaac!"
Most people who know me know that I have a brother who's lived in fairly exciting places, whom I like a lot, and of whom I'm extremely proud. This brother and I share a mother but not a father.
Most people who know me don't realize that I have two other brothers with whom I share a father but not a mother. Isaac is one of those brothers. He is five years younger than me, one year younger than my sister (the only sibling with whom I share both parents). I've never met my third brother, but I do know his first name and I know that he was born in early January 1975.
But Isaac, dear Isaac. The last time we spoke was perhaps 15 years ago. We were at a family reunion which we had scheduled after my grandfather died. We had a few days together in Michigan. On one of the last evenings, we sat down for dinner with the plan for each person to take a turn to speak about our grampa.
After we were seated, Isaac, of whom I'd been quite fond, and for whom I'd named one of my first cats, turned to me and said "You know, I've never liked you." Things went downhill as he continued to speak. Of course, he'd been drinking gin all evening, huge tumblers of it. Isaac spent the rest of the evening in the backyard. As an aside, the family gathered around me, each one coming up in a quiet moment to offer words of reassurance or a heartfelt hug. I felt amazingly loved.
Isaac has gone on to not have a relationship with our father -- I'm not sure of all the ins and outs of that. He has been in touch with my aunt and uncle who have maintained a thread to the family and, I guess, encouraged him to call me.
We didn't talk a lot. He said that he's been living in Montreal. He was well spoken. It sounds like he's an artist, struggling, but making art, as his very talented mother did. I'm sure I sounded very cautious, perhaps a little confused. He mentioned several times that he was an "idiot" last time we saw each other. He asked for my sister's email which I gave him (heads-up! incoming!). And he said he'd send me email and let me know what he's been up to.
Sometimes, sitting quietly and not reacting can yield unexpected results. I guess at this point I'm curious, perhaps a little hopeful, and we'll see what happens next.
the frost melts, even in New England
There's a guy at the pool with whom I've often shared a lane if none are free when he arrives. He's probably in his 70s, very cordial, seems to like me, and says that I'm the nicest person to share with. We usually exchange a few words of greeting, I swim off, and he claims the next free lane, leaving me to swim by myself again. This has been going on for months.
This morning, he got in the lane next to me, we had our usual cheery greeting, when he said "I don't believe I know your name." So we revealed our names, then laughed about how even in New England, it's probably not too out of line to exchange first names after this much time had passed. By the time I was getting ready to kick off again, he said "Yeah, after half a century, it's probably fine to exchange names."
This morning, he got in the lane next to me, we had our usual cheery greeting, when he said "I don't believe I know your name." So we revealed our names, then laughed about how even in New England, it's probably not too out of line to exchange first names after this much time had passed. By the time I was getting ready to kick off again, he said "Yeah, after half a century, it's probably fine to exchange names."
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
dentist redux
You may remember that in the middle of several tooth crises, I took leave of my old dentist last fall because he was both going crazy and driving me crazy. It was a painful decision, but I've been very happy with my new dentist -- the one-stop shopping (so far) for all my care, the good laughs, and the absence of lying awake at night dreading going to the dentist.
When I left my former dentist, I wrote him a letter and contacted my hygienest, Leslie, by e-mail. Leslie let me know that her boss was having a very difficult time medically. Eventually, I heard through the grapevine that he'd stepped away from the practice.
A few mornings ago, I ran into Leslie at the local coffee shop. She told me that the dentist has been through successful surgery and is back at work, much recovered. She hugged me repeatedly and told me how much she misses me. She teared up several times. She told me that she understood why I left, but she needed to reassure herself that she and her colleagues are good people. How sad.
Of course, I'm not even the slightest bit tempted to go back.
I gave her my card and suggested getting together, perhaps for coffee. But I really need to leave it in her hands because she is in a far more uncomfortable situation than I am. I hope I hear from her but am trying to limit my expectations, at least not right now.
When I left my former dentist, I wrote him a letter and contacted my hygienest, Leslie, by e-mail. Leslie let me know that her boss was having a very difficult time medically. Eventually, I heard through the grapevine that he'd stepped away from the practice.
A few mornings ago, I ran into Leslie at the local coffee shop. She told me that the dentist has been through successful surgery and is back at work, much recovered. She hugged me repeatedly and told me how much she misses me. She teared up several times. She told me that she understood why I left, but she needed to reassure herself that she and her colleagues are good people. How sad.
Of course, I'm not even the slightest bit tempted to go back.
I gave her my card and suggested getting together, perhaps for coffee. But I really need to leave it in her hands because she is in a far more uncomfortable situation than I am. I hope I hear from her but am trying to limit my expectations, at least not right now.
small town life
Today I had a work meeting in a small nearby town. The place where we bought our carpet was on the route back to the office, so I stopped in. Unfortunately, a few days ago, I spilled half a cup of coffee while going upstairs :-(. Clumsy me. We now have three beautifully mottled steps. Robert cheerfully suggested that we toss several more cups of coffee at the staircase so that everything matches, but I'm thinking that perhaps we could do something about the original stain.
The door to the shop was wide open and I walked in. Lights were on; music was playing. And there was a note on the desk -- "I've had to step out for a few moments. Please use the phone to call me at (phone number)." I picked up the phone, dialed, left a message, and by the time I got home, there was a message waiting for me with a suggestion of something we could try and the number of a carpet cleaner.
I just can't imagine the same scenario closer to the city. Wouldn't the store be cleaned out or at least ransacked by the time the owner returned?
The door to the shop was wide open and I walked in. Lights were on; music was playing. And there was a note on the desk -- "I've had to step out for a few moments. Please use the phone to call me at (phone number)." I picked up the phone, dialed, left a message, and by the time I got home, there was a message waiting for me with a suggestion of something we could try and the number of a carpet cleaner.
I just can't imagine the same scenario closer to the city. Wouldn't the store be cleaned out or at least ransacked by the time the owner returned?
Sunday, August 10, 2008
berkshires and back
Last weekend, we went to the Berkshires for the second of two summer weekends there.
We started the celebrations on Thursday night close to home at a play called "Born Yesterday." It was political and funny and a little preachy but mostly great fun. Written in the 50s and set in Washington, D.C., it concerned a ruthless "junk man," the politicians he was trying to buy, and his girlfriend, who was dumb and liked it that way, but became smarter (or at least better educated) over the course of the play. Certainly thought- and laugh- provoking, a good staging, and a great set.
In the Berkshires, we stayed at our other favorite B&B, a private home nestled up against 120 square miles of protected forest, with a beautiful view in the other direction. The man who runs it, Richard, prepares breakfasts from his own organic garden and has another business leading llama hikes. When we arrived, we sat down with him on his couches and caught up for a while, then he took us around back to introduce us to his chickens who were about to be made into frozen chicken parts. They were fat and waddled. I did not fall in love. But I do love his cat, Quinn, who was feral when she first arrived and has since become quite social.
Friday night, we went to Tanglewood and saw Joshua Bell perform a Saint Saens piece (which was very familiar, but I can't possibly hum it today). We also heard Pictures at an Exhibition (Mussorksgy, orchestrated by Ravel), a piece I listened to many times in my misspent youth, as interpreted by ELP.
Saturday, we saw All's Well that Ends Well, a play I was sure I'd seen a thousand times, but it turns out this was my first viewing. I loved it but wanted to slap the protagonist, Bertram, who was a spoiled and ungrateful brat who could not bring himself to love the woman who loved him until he thought she'd died. Of course, she had only staged her own death, so everyone lived happily ever after, which is, I guess, what made the whole thing a comedy. The acting, directing, and staging were terrific, though, and I'm so glad we picked it as our Saturday night activity.
On Sunday, we asked Richard if he was leading a llama hike that day. Alas, he was not, but he harnessed up some llamas anyways, handed us the leashes, suggested a route through the woods, and sent us on our way. We had a nice walk despite the incredibly high humidity, and the llamas (Picasso, Jack, and Tanner) seemed to have a good time too. Then off to Tanglewood to see Yo Yo Ma with his incredibly competent backup band. The pieces performed were unfamiliar and fine, but not as great as the Friday night concert. YYM, however, was terrific.
There was one amazing part where he was playing very quietly but in a shimmery way, foreshadowing something loud and crashing. Something outside the shed caught my eye -- the wind had picked up. Just as the music climaxed, the heavens opened up and it poured, this on a day when I had never seen so many people on the lawn, nor so many cars in the parking lot. All was well by the time intermission rolled around, and most people were still on the lawn having a very pleasant, if soggier, afternoon.
Monday night, we thought we were going to have a quiet catch-up evening, but mid-day, a friend we hadn't seen for a while emailed me, saying he was travelling from Connecticut to Nova Scotia and might he stop in. Was he coming for dinner? That would be lovely. Was he planning to spend the night? Well, he was hoping to. It all worked out well -- it was great to see him, he fit in well with our schedule, and he was a good guest all around.
Then work was crazed for both of us this week as we work toward two very tough deadlines. I think we'll be fine, but things have been extra intense with sleeping not so great. Back in real life, I met a friend for dinner Wednesday night. She came home with me and the three of us chatted into the night. By Thursday, I was too pooped to cook dinner or do much of anything, and I was grateful to have Friday off from work.
On Friday, I screwed up my courage to make a few phone calls (still battling that demon) and contacted our wood guy to order two cords, thinking we'd get a delivery right before September started. After a little confusion (apparently, he has a deadbeat customer with a similar name), he offered to bring the first part of the delivery on Friday night.
He brought the second part yesterday, and Robert and I stacked as much as we could, pending the delivery of a few more pallets. I also did my own version of the Olympics, tossing logs to get them closer to the wood pile, requiring less carrying when we're ready to resume stacking. Surprisingly, I'm not at all sore today, though I deserve to be.
Then we switched gears and prepped dinner for a guest whom we'd invited several weeks ago. We had a good meal, if I do say so myself, and spent a lovely, inspiring, and engaging evening together. Today, I've attended to a few things, planned and shopped for a couple of meals, while Robert has been off at a board meeting.
And it all starts again tomorrow. For the time being, I'm enjoying some quiet down-time (which helps me enjoy the up- social time), hanging out with cats, reading, and generally resting.
We started the celebrations on Thursday night close to home at a play called "Born Yesterday." It was political and funny and a little preachy but mostly great fun. Written in the 50s and set in Washington, D.C., it concerned a ruthless "junk man," the politicians he was trying to buy, and his girlfriend, who was dumb and liked it that way, but became smarter (or at least better educated) over the course of the play. Certainly thought- and laugh- provoking, a good staging, and a great set.
In the Berkshires, we stayed at our other favorite B&B, a private home nestled up against 120 square miles of protected forest, with a beautiful view in the other direction. The man who runs it, Richard, prepares breakfasts from his own organic garden and has another business leading llama hikes. When we arrived, we sat down with him on his couches and caught up for a while, then he took us around back to introduce us to his chickens who were about to be made into frozen chicken parts. They were fat and waddled. I did not fall in love. But I do love his cat, Quinn, who was feral when she first arrived and has since become quite social.
Friday night, we went to Tanglewood and saw Joshua Bell perform a Saint Saens piece (which was very familiar, but I can't possibly hum it today). We also heard Pictures at an Exhibition (Mussorksgy, orchestrated by Ravel), a piece I listened to many times in my misspent youth, as interpreted by ELP.
Saturday, we saw All's Well that Ends Well, a play I was sure I'd seen a thousand times, but it turns out this was my first viewing. I loved it but wanted to slap the protagonist, Bertram, who was a spoiled and ungrateful brat who could not bring himself to love the woman who loved him until he thought she'd died. Of course, she had only staged her own death, so everyone lived happily ever after, which is, I guess, what made the whole thing a comedy. The acting, directing, and staging were terrific, though, and I'm so glad we picked it as our Saturday night activity.
On Sunday, we asked Richard if he was leading a llama hike that day. Alas, he was not, but he harnessed up some llamas anyways, handed us the leashes, suggested a route through the woods, and sent us on our way. We had a nice walk despite the incredibly high humidity, and the llamas (Picasso, Jack, and Tanner) seemed to have a good time too. Then off to Tanglewood to see Yo Yo Ma with his incredibly competent backup band. The pieces performed were unfamiliar and fine, but not as great as the Friday night concert. YYM, however, was terrific.
There was one amazing part where he was playing very quietly but in a shimmery way, foreshadowing something loud and crashing. Something outside the shed caught my eye -- the wind had picked up. Just as the music climaxed, the heavens opened up and it poured, this on a day when I had never seen so many people on the lawn, nor so many cars in the parking lot. All was well by the time intermission rolled around, and most people were still on the lawn having a very pleasant, if soggier, afternoon.
Monday night, we thought we were going to have a quiet catch-up evening, but mid-day, a friend we hadn't seen for a while emailed me, saying he was travelling from Connecticut to Nova Scotia and might he stop in. Was he coming for dinner? That would be lovely. Was he planning to spend the night? Well, he was hoping to. It all worked out well -- it was great to see him, he fit in well with our schedule, and he was a good guest all around.
Then work was crazed for both of us this week as we work toward two very tough deadlines. I think we'll be fine, but things have been extra intense with sleeping not so great. Back in real life, I met a friend for dinner Wednesday night. She came home with me and the three of us chatted into the night. By Thursday, I was too pooped to cook dinner or do much of anything, and I was grateful to have Friday off from work.
On Friday, I screwed up my courage to make a few phone calls (still battling that demon) and contacted our wood guy to order two cords, thinking we'd get a delivery right before September started. After a little confusion (apparently, he has a deadbeat customer with a similar name), he offered to bring the first part of the delivery on Friday night.
He brought the second part yesterday, and Robert and I stacked as much as we could, pending the delivery of a few more pallets. I also did my own version of the Olympics, tossing logs to get them closer to the wood pile, requiring less carrying when we're ready to resume stacking. Surprisingly, I'm not at all sore today, though I deserve to be.
Then we switched gears and prepped dinner for a guest whom we'd invited several weeks ago. We had a good meal, if I do say so myself, and spent a lovely, inspiring, and engaging evening together. Today, I've attended to a few things, planned and shopped for a couple of meals, while Robert has been off at a board meeting.
And it all starts again tomorrow. For the time being, I'm enjoying some quiet down-time (which helps me enjoy the up- social time), hanging out with cats, reading, and generally resting.
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