If you're happy and you know it...

I'm clapping my hands. The last few days have brought about little things to be incredibly happy and grateful for.

1. We at dinner last night on our back porch. It was 80 degrees yesterday ad sunny. It was wonderful feeling the warmth on my back while we sat and enjoyed our first al fresco dining of the season.

Mmm...homemade chorizo and egg burritos with seasoned tator tots and milk. Delicious!

2. The warmth continued overnight, so much so that I woke up this morning and did my yoga on the back porch. Nothing like the sound of birdies (and the Monday garbage truck) to help wake you up and make you cheerful for the day.

3. Seeing my baby kick. That's right. Not just feeling her, but SEEING her. Last night she was particularly active as we were lying down for bed. Jake saw a movement and goes, "Was that a kick?" I said, "Yup." "That's so cool," he replied in amazement. And it is pretty amazing. I was watching her roll around earlier this evening, too. I'm sure this is only the beginning of many amazing things to happen this summer.

If you're happy and you know it...

He's just fakin'!

SWAN Day

This past weekend I had the wonderful opportunity to be surrounded and enveloped by many talented, lovely, and beautiful women from across Pittsburgh for No Name Players' third annual SWAN Day Celebration. SWAN Day (which stands for Support Women Artists Now) is an international celebration of women artists during March, Women's History Month. At this particular Celebration, the performance is a conglomeration of women creating art in all its various forms--dance, music, theatre, visual, media, literary, and everything in between.

It's funny how some things just fall into place. My dear friends, Em and Christina, and I were discussing how cool it would be to start a women's theatre group here in Pittsburgh. We then thought--with all of our copious amounts of free time--that we could get something put together for women's history month. Needless to say, it was quickly becoming evident that this was not going to happen. But then we were guided toward the direction of Tressa, the managing director of No Name Players,who had been organizing this awesome SWAN Day event. I met with her in December, and she found us an 8 minute spot in the show. How cool was that?

Each piece for this year's celebration was going to be based on interviews Tressa had done with local women about being women. When we watched the interview footage, we had pages upon pages of notes. We talked for 2 1/2 hours about everything we found interesting. Trying to decide what to talk about in 8 minutes was going to be hard!  But we decided to structure our piece in a way that no one else had done before for SWAN Day: a monologue performance piece written and performed by us in conjunction with visual artists who would create art based on our monologues. Sweet, huh? While initially we had envisioned the artists creating something in real time during the performances, they ended up creating an awesome animation that ran behind us based on our themes and prop.

Prop, you say? What kind of prop? As you may remember, I posted my monologue a while back. The monologue was about how terrified (and guilty because of it) I was to have a girl. Em's and Christina's monologues also touched upon different "flavors of guilt" associated with different stages of motherhood. Em's discussed the need to do everything "right" and "by the book" or else we'll all die from the unknowns (think hysterical, smothering mother). Christina's investigated the desire to break free and become her own women again--only to feel guilty about leaving her family to do so. So to tie all of our guilt together, we used a rope. A long long rope. It was tied, wrapped, unwrapped, bundled, stretched, pulled, wound, went over, went under, climbed through, stepped on, in circle, in cats cradle--it did a lot for showing how we all felt. And hence, the title of our piece was In Knots.

We got a lot of positive feedback on our piece, which was wonderful although unnecessary because I think that even if everyone had hated it, we had so much fun putting it together that it wouldn't have mattered. I swear--we would get together for an hour and half "rehearsal" and probably only rehearse for about 30 minutes of that time. We gelled and it all came together. The rest of the time was spent chatting, venting, crying, laughing, eating. I got to know two amazing women through this process, women who have already begun to share their motherhood experiences with me and guide me towards becoming the mom I hope I'll be. I'm forever grateful to them for such a wonderful experience.

Here's to getting our women's theatre group up and running, ladies!

Election Day

Every election day always gets me thinking about politics.  And not just the big questions--which party is going to control the House?  Which races are going to be big upsets?--but also the littler and ultimately more important question about my own politics--What is most important to me about our democratic process?  What do I want my vote to stand for?

A guilty indulgence

I like to consider myself an eco-conscious person.  Most of the blogs I follow have something to do with "wasting not, wanting not" and respecting our planet's finite resources.  I'm trying like many other people to make positive changes in the green direction: recycling (how obvious is that!?), composting, buying as many used clothes and shoes as possible (undergarments excluded), remaking/repurposing/reusing things in the house, buying local and organic food, collecting rain from our gutters for the garden, and making our own "green" ingredient household cleaners (have I ranted on the wonders of vinegar?  If not, there's a post coming, you can be sure of it!).

Yet I have a confession: I LOVE long, hot showers. Not just in the wintertime--all year round.  I often times stand underneath the shower head for eternities relishing the near burning sensation, feeling the relaxation take over. I remind myself nearly every time of the episode of Seinfeld where Kramer decides to live in his shower.  Trust me--if I could, I would.  Sounds great to me!!

I try to assuage the guilt that inevitably returns after my skin is bright red and as I begin contemplating whether to leave the shower or stay for just one more minute.  I try to tell myself that it hasn't really been that long.  I try to tell myself that it's cold outside--you don't want to open the curtain.  I try to tell myself that hey--you only wash your hair every 5-6 days, and then you don't always bathe every day, so you're just making time up from that.  I try to tell myself that I won't do it the next time--but I always do.  I try to tell myself that you'll pay the extra money on your gas and water bill--it's just too good to give up.

But none of these excuses ever fully works.  I still stay in, and I still feel guilty because this is my guilty indulgence.  And I'm sure it's not my only one, as I fully realize that compared to many around the world, I live a privileged existence where I don't ever have to worry about having hot water or even water at all.  And perhaps an indulgence every once in a while is a good thing, but I really do want to try and cut back on this guilty pleasure of mine  As my mother-in-law would say, moderation!  I know we wasted more water than I would care to admit doing all of our gardening and preserving this year, and water is not in everlasting supply.  So I'm hoping by writing about it that you, o faithful blog and readers, will keep me honest and on track--and out of the shower in a reasonable amount of time.

The Greatest Generation

Yesterday Jake and I visited his grandparents, Rollie and Lorraine.  We're back home in MN visiting family and gearing up for my cousin's wedding this weekend.  We knew that we'd make it up to Madison at some point to see them, and the visit gave me a lot to ponder about marriage and what I value in my life. 

I first met his grandparents in the summer of 2006 after we started dating.  I remember the first time walking into their house, getting blasted back to past from the smell of it.  Strangely enough, their basement smelled exactly like my own Grandma Lorraine's house, who passed away in 2003.  Even then, I knew it was a good sign that Jake and I were meant to be!  At this point, Rollie was already diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease, but he was still living at home being cared for by Lorraine. Jake used to tell me all sorts of stories about things he would do with his Grandpa, the bottling company Rollie ran for many years and that Jake worked for as a teenager, and all the work around his grandparents' house that he would help with.  Jake used to say "I wish you could have met my Grandpa before he got sick," but even now I can still see the twinkling in his eye of the perpetual joker that everyone tells me he used to be, and that's all I need to see to love him dearly!  Eventually the disease's progression became too overwhelming, and Rollie was moved into the nursing home a block away from their home. Lorraine hasn't slowed down one bit, though, since I met her.  She visits Rollie numerous times each day, still does his laundry, and even just washed her car by hand this past week!  She's going to be 89 this year, but with the way she still moves around and how sharp her mind still is you'd never know it! 

Lorraine met Jake and I at the nursing home yesterday afternoon around 4 o'clock.  Rollie was listening to some oldies on his Ipod, and besides being a little tired, seemed to be in good spirits.  We sat down with them both, chatted about what was new, and showed them pictures of our garden and from our honeymoon in Jamaica.  Jake and his Grandpa shared a beer together, and we took some pictures.  They were just amazed at the technology of the digital camera, being able to see the picture right away!

Jake and Rollie sharing a Hub City Brown Ale.

Two hours flew by, and by then Rollie was ready to head off to supper.  Lorraine said, "Goodbye honey," and leaned in and gave her husband of 60+ years a big smooch on the lips.  It took everything in my power not to start crying from the bittersweet moment, and even thinking back on it now brings tears to my eyes.  How hard it must be for her to say goodbye to him every day, for both of them to be alone at night, when for so long they had always been together.  But also how wonderfully sweet it is to see such love, dedication, and devotion after so many years, especially when no one seems to take marriage vows all that seriously anymore.  I'm sure that they have had their bad times just like anyone in any marriage, but to witness the love that years have built up was something quite special.  Both Jake and I remarked upon later that it's at this point in someone's life--when adults become children again and need to be taken care of--that it suddenly becomes so clear why having a partner, children, and family are so important.  I don't think anyone ever wants to be alone, but when you start to think forward to your later years, the need to keep your family close and strong becomes so much more apparent. 

Tom Brokaw rightly called their generation "The Greatest Generation" for their sense of duty, love, and practicality.  I lament that my own generation doesn't have more of those three things, three things still so evident in his grandparents today.  We talked with his grandparents about all the hard work they had to do, raising their families, working without technology, through the Great Depression and numerous wars.  But it was that kiss between two people who had made it through tough times and good that spoke volumes.  I hope that someday Jake and I can live up to their standards of duty, love, and practicality.  Because if it ends with a kiss like that, it'll all have been worth it. 

Morning-time Stretches

I have always liked the idea of yoga.  As a longtime dancer, anything that gets my body stretching, bending, and twisting feels amazing.  I distinctly remember my first introduction to yoga.  I was at my neighbor Barb's house.  Her husband at the time had a book about yoga.  I must have been 7 or 8, and I tried to read all the words--including the Sanskrit names--but really the pictures were what floored me.  I tried to contort my body into the positions, try them out in any order that I like, but more often than not, it hurt and didn't really feel that good at all!

Only later in life, after many a theatre warmup with sun salutations and an official yoga class here and there, have I begun to understand the philosophical and physiological underpinnings to yoga that make it what it is.  I don't practice a particular style of yoga (more out of ignorance than anything), although what I do is probably most akin to Hatha Yoga.  First and foremost, it's about breath.  This was obviously one aspect that went right over my head when I was younger.  Second, it's about slowing down and going deeper.  Each breath brings you deeper into the pose.  Third, yoga shouldn't hurt.  Even now as I push my body further I have to remind myself to pull back and listen to the signals my body is telling me.

I've begun to practice yoga every morning on our newly finished back porch.  There is something magical about doing sun salutations as the sun is peeking over the rooftop.  Although you can't see it in this picture below, you can imagine how cool it would be.  And I even saw a rainbow this morning!  Beautiful...

I get to listen to the sound of birds chirping delightfully (and the occasional chainsaw from a neighbor who is up and at it far too early).  If the wind is blowing just right, the chimes blow and add their own soft mellow music to the mix.

Pentatonic-scaled wind chimes.  Ethereal...

At first my goal was to do 20 minutes of yoga every morning.  I managed to do that and much more as time seems to whiz by.  Although I had to stop during my recent illness, I just jumped back into my routine, and I feel great.  I start with breathing and centering, then gentle warmup twists and forward bends (usually seated).  I move into cat and cow pose to warm up my back, then child's pose for a rest.  Next I do sun salutations--12 simple flowing moves that get my body all warmed up and aligned.  I typically do between 3-6 sets of sun salutations (a set is two times through, one on each side of the body).  Sometimes I stop here.  Other times, I go through more pose sequences.  And I always always always end in relaxation pose.  Even if I can't stay there for very long, going forth into my day relaxed and calm is the best feeling in the world.

A face-down view from my yoga mat.

To find out more about the poses (and their Sanskrit names), go to www.yogajournal.com.  They even have a cool "build your own sequence" application!

And after yoga?  I enjoy a freshly brewed cup of coffee.  I start the coffeemaker before I go out to the porch each morning.  It's my treat to myself for morning-time stretches done well :-)

Worries

Reflection is key for the growth of knowledge.  I firmly believe this, yet for one reason or another, often times find myself avoiding it at all costs.  Probably because reflection hurts sometimes, be it the very literal reflection in the mirror after a long night of various and sundry activities or the figurative examination of the soul under a harsh white light.

So here I am after a long Monday. A very long Monday filled with fires to put out left and right, challenges to overcome every five minutes, and spills to clean up.  And that's just with my classroom of 5-8 year olds!  I'm feeling filled with worries right now, about my past actions and how they will affect people, about my current situation, and for things far off into the future. 

1. I worry that I am too selfish.  I know that sometimes I don't give my husband enough of my attention, I don't call my friends often enough, and I don't think outside of my immediate circle of life very often.  Part of the reason I joined AmeriCorps was to get outside of myself a bit, but I still don't feel that I've done enough.  I berate my husband sometimes for not congratulating me on a wonderful dinner or for not understanding how hard I work at my 2 jobs  (or 3, or 4, or 5 jobs, depending upon the time of year).  But I do the same thing to him all the time.  I am a hypocrite in this matter and I don't like it.  There have been so many times recently when I've caught myself ready to say "you have a good day too" when someone has said the same to me only to stop short.  Why don't I say it?  Because deep down I feel that I'm owed a "good day" and this person is not?  Because I don't say it right away and then think the person will think it stupid if I say it later? Certainly this is an awful position to hold either way you look at it.  I just need to say it.  Better late than never. 

2. I worry that I don't have enough gratitude.  Caveat: I'm not a religious person.  I explain this because I feel that--perhaps rightly so--religion demands of its followers gratitude for the things that God provides.  So I don't have this ready made structure in my life that elicits gratitude from me.  Even so, I am thankful for all I have--my family, friends, home, job, nature--but I know I don't show it enough.  I hardly ever send thank you cards for ordinary gifts, except under certain circumstances which dictate they be sent (weddings, showers, etc.)  I hardly ever take a moment in my day to think about all I have, to wonder at how I've gotten to the point in my life, and to ponder on the mysteries of nature's cycle, an idea I keep coming back to for its simple beauty.  And then there's the difference between real gratitude and "fake" gratitude.  Like when I tell my students "thank you" for behaving the right way.  Yes, it's helpful when they do start behaving, but all the while I'm thinking "well you should have been behaving in the first place, punk!"  So my heart's not in it as much as it can or should be. 

3. I worry that I'm not going to be a good parent someday, if my present performance in the classroom today is any indication. I had one student who defied every word I said, every action I took.  All he was looking for, I realize, was attention.  And what did I do?  I gave it to him every step of the way.  I gave him exactly what he wanted and what he didn't need.  I couldn't ignore his behavior and instead tried to control it, or rather get him to control it.  And this whole exchange between him and I backfired.  And it sucks knowing that I failed him today.  Frankly, my inability to ignore him showed a lack of self-control on my part, something I'm not very happy admitting. 

I feel ugly inside right now.  Like I have turned into this giant monster with four heads and creeping snake hair, part-ogre and part-Medusa.  Surely, this is how my students must see me on a regular basis. 

Now comes the hard part--changing my own behavior to act upon my worries.  Perhaps I can start with one very small but worthwhile step:

"Thank you for reading this.  It means a lot to me to know that you are listening."

Transitions

How fortuitous that on the same day I have my exit interview for my year of AmeriCorps service, I have a staff meeting with my other job, Prime Stage Theatre, that blows my mind with all the exciting things that are to come for the company. 

I'm in a point of transition at a very unlikely time for transitions.  I closely follow and observe the changing of the seasons, so now--in the dead middle of summer--is not when I would normally have expected such a transition to be made.  But I'll take it.

Last year at this time, I remember being much more worried about the future than I am now.  I worried so much about not being able to do the freelance teaching artists thing that I snatched up the opportunity with AmeriCorps as a saving grace.  But then I worried what AmeriCorps would be like, and then, when I was offered the gig with Prime Stage, how in the world I would manage to do 1 1/2 full time jobs. I was worried about what everyone worries about--money.

Now, the future is looking bright.  Even though the freelance side of things makes me nervous, I realize more than anything what a gift it is and will be for me to be doing what I love to do--theatre--with people I love to work with--kids. And I can't put a price tag on that.

...is new again!

I have always been a lover of old things, my grandmother notwithstanding (and especially her cinnamon rolls).  I was given my first cup and saucer of the depression glass collection, "Cameo, or Ballerina Girl," when I was 8 years old by my Auntie Barb.  I was hooked.  I visited antique stores with a zeal and relish that made store owners leery until they discovered I wasn't in the store just to wreak havoc and break something.  I read all the "American Girl" books, particularly Felicity and Kirsten, and you got it: Laura Ingalls Wilder topped my list to.  I became entranced by the PBS series, Frontier House, Colonial House, and Manor House. I insisted on learning my genealogical past from the ripe young age of 9, dragging my bewildered parents to the Brown County Historical Society in New Ulm, MN.  I now have two 3'' binders filled with old family photos, letters, and of course the family trees.  I have both of my grandmother's wedding dresses and was just recently given at my wedding shower a vest that was worn by my great-great grandmother on the boat from Germany. I was a sobbing mess.

And the list could go on and on and on about my fascination with "old things."  But in particular, what has perhaps fascinated me most, was simply how they did it.  How did they churn butter in those things?  What did they do when they had a raging headache and couldn't pop an ibuprofen from a plastic bottle?  You mean they had to wash laundry BY HAND?  Then there's everything that I can't even begin to pronounce on the back of a commercial shampoo bottle that has often left me standing in a pool of water in my bathtub as I struggle to pronounce the number-number-polysyllabic-number word.  What did they do before the advent of petrochemicals, I ask myself?  Not to mention what is in our food and water supply.  Frankly, I don't trust the FDA.  I remember when the campaign was all for margarine, but now they're saying the trans-fats are oh so bad.  Get your story straight, please.  I'm sticking with food I know hasn't been tampered with and has been grown/developed/processed in a way that would make our forefathers happy, like the vegetables from our garden.

 

So  it's most definitely the independent person in me who says, "Well if they can do it, so can I!" I'm giving it a shot, this whole "what is old is new again" thing.

The mere fact that I proceed to document my journey towards a simpler life via a blog seems an instantaneous oxymoron.  Yet with all the other "simple life" blogs out there, and with my mother more likely to be able to check the blog at work and thus stay more informed of our activities, I figured why not?  Plus, let's face it: friends have been urging me for a while now to do it, so to you dear ones--your wish has been granted.

It'll take every ounce of power not to post a gazillion things right away.  One bit at a time...

But if anyone has something they'd like to know about right away, let me know!