Other Summer Bits

If my blogging skills were suffering prior to having a real job, they've sure taken a deeper nosedive. Don't think I haven't noticed. I haven't had time to observe and muse, which leads the blog to offering only the pithy update. Now that the occupational threat has been neutralized (more on that later), the pressure is on to save this sinking ship. So let's get caught up. Where were we in the story... the big Italian adventure, Brett got a surfboard...

Let's start with babies. We've gotten a good crop yield this year. In order of appearance; Cormac, Heath, Margot, and Logan. 

Small photo because these are not my babies to be posting to the interwebs. 

Which reminds me, we had a beautiful baby shower for Ari. Nevermind the new human, I was particularly thrilled to get to play with flowers again. 

Back in August, Brett and I went up to Richmond VA because he needed to do an inspection. Someone hired him to wander around an abandoned high school to determine it "past repair." Brett said the place was so scary that he didn't even go into a few especially dark corners. I've never seen Brett scared of anything ever - so it must have really been a doozie. 

We were staying in the downtown, tall-builidng section of town, which, no matter what city I'm in, does bum me out. You can't see the darn sky! There weren't many people down there, so it felt important but abandoned. There were also few "places" to be besides the offices in the area, but outside of Downtown, you zoom through an up and coming artsy section and then you're in a Mary Poppins kind of residential chunk that we found lively and charming. 

In fact Brett and I found ourselves on Zillow lookng at the houses for sale just because they were so cute.
"Do you actually want to live here?"
"I don't think so."
"Me neither, but I bet life in that house would be pretty good."
"Oh for sure. You just wouldn't have real problems if you lived in that house.

We explored most of the different neighborhoods in Richmond - some industrial chic, others more bohemian. We must have visited 75% of the area's lawn care stores looking for something as atrocious as Wilhelmina Pigglesworth to leave on Will and Katie's front porch, but everything in town was much too tasteful. We had a few great cups of coffee, a big Jewish breakfast, a wander along the train tracks, some fresh baked cookies, and a visit to a beautiful cemetery so big that we got lost in there for a half hour. "Is this how they populate the place!" Brett declared as we spun the car in circles trying to find our way out. 

Back here at home, the UniBartEnhauers chug along with Sunday dinners, unannounced visits to Mom and Dad's house in the afternoons, and days running errands with Mom. Dad maintains that he is bored, however he's always scampering around town doing things for people so we don't really know what he's talking about. Ellen and Lee are drowning in plastic toys and butter noodles, while Brett and I both consider our futures.

Stay tuned for the next episode of What Do I Do With My Life?

Little Has Changed

I wrote this almost six years ago and I just found it. 

* * *

In my recent musings about life I’ve discovered how silly life is. As a wee little’n I didn’t like to be told what to do because I’m stubborn and pompous and was certain I knew me better than anyone else. I like learning as I go, working with my hands, touching the hot stove to figure out that I don’t want to do that again. I say that, but now, as a nervous adult, I tend to avoid all metaphorical stoves because I don’t want to get hurt or find out that I enjoy masochistic abuses to make up for things I think I should have done better.

I’ve been thinking about the strivers and achievers in life and I chuckle a little at them. It’s a respectful chuckle. I’m glad there are people willing to solve problems that I can't even finish reading about. I’m happy for people interested in the sticky inner-workings of the human body, the mathematically precise calculations that keep a building standing upright, the people that experiment with tasty foods, and I really love the person who invented the heater. I’m so glad these people exist. Without them, natural selection would have gotten rid of me ages ago. But now that everything is up and running over here in the US it seems silly to me to keep editing and rebuilding things that don’t need to be messed with. There are other places that don’t even have heaters yet.

And I’m not chuckling at the everyday achiever. I’m chuckling at the greedy and socially unconscious strivers-for-more. When I was sixteen, I followed Dad on a business trip to Hawaii and we went down into a valley between two mountains (that’s how valleys work) and there were just a handful of people living in that valley and they grew rice and taro and had mango trees, horses, and a beach just a few steps outside of their tropical jungle. It was the first time it really occurred to me that I could choose a life very different from the one my teachers were preparing me for back home. (Thus started the ten year angsty phase.) The trips I had followed Dad on in the past all seemed like a fantasy life and the idea of living anywhere they didn’t speak English seemed very much like a bad idea when I was a little girl. But The Hawaiian Valley made sense; the growing your food and enjoying your day bit. I liked that a whole lot. Suddenly I felt like I had to leave the contiguous US to live the kind of life I wanted. 

Now hold on to your eye rolls and chuckles. I wasn’t looking for a life void of work but rather a life full of time. Taking care of myself on my own watch. Tending to things that need tending to without having to run my thoughts past other people. Because other people are idiots. And other people don’t really have the answers either. The adults you look to for answers are adults for the first time, so they’re just doing what they think is best or what saw their parents do. That all makes sense I guess, but realized I could decide to be my own version of myself and not the paper-pushing version I was being shaped into by The Man.

Now that I’ve been a practicing adult for a few years, I see that it is scary to leave the security that The Man provides in exchange for heaps of your time, and life is terribly lonely without other idiotic people in your Hawaiian Valley.  I was thinking about how I’ve set up my little life here, working for The Man in a roundabout way so that I feel like I’m beating the system. But then I start to think about all the lives that don’t have heaters and I'm reminded that I'm living in a pretty great little bubble. Then I thought, “If my bubble caught on fire, what would I grab on my way out?” and other than Pippa and a box of letters, I couldn’t come with anything. In some ways, I’d be relived for all of my crap to burn away into ash. I don’t need that crap. I just need a place to stay warm and enough money for food. That’s all anybody in any pocket of the world needs.

What would I do with heaps of money? How would I feel as a famous person with no privacy and so many judgmental eyes watching how I lived my life? What happens when you crash your expensive car or buy a house that’s too big to clean in one day? I’ll tell you. You lose time. You lose it to working for more money for a new car or you lose it to maintaining the things that you’ve bought with all of your money. You spend your weekend cleaning the boat and manicuring your giant lawn. I don’t want to sound like I’m poo-pooing these things. I’m a spoiled person with an addiction to once-in–a-lifetime vacations and expensive ice-creams. It’s just that I’ve been watching so many people make such greedy and selfish decisions that it makes me feel foolish to be part of such an existence. 

I guess these people do things these with a motive to be remembered as successful, but think about how little thought you actually give to the handful of people from history that we do remember for great things. What about the billions of other lives? Billions of unremarkable lives came before you. I’m going to die one day, an unknown speck on the timeline of existence.

That really takes the pressure off. 

I say be judicious with the time you have and do something nice for someone. 

Two Months in Two Minutes

How about it. A whole two months without a pithy update. You must be starving. 

I have lots of what I label as noteworthy occurrences and I think to myself, "this is the kind of thing I wish I would write about on my blog." And sometimes I'll do just that. I'll scratch out my feelings on something that happened or something I thought about, and when I read it back, I see the presence of said feelings and I have no choice but to delete them. It's never particularly personal or dramatic. I keep that sort of thing to myself. But boy, seeing your feelings in print makes them feel cliche and shallow. So most of the time I find I double down and instead, give you pithy updates that are cliche and shallow. "We're all busy. We still have pets. See ya next time!" 
Most commonly though, I forget whatever it is that I thought might be worth scribbling down in the first place.

Similarly, in recent months I've lost my tolerance for people that have nothing to say. I've always got something up my sleeve for when people say, "Hey Lue, what's new?" It's not that my life is an adrenaline-filled exploit, a series of wild campaigns I lead to victory. Nor am I highly dramatic and can make a whole meal out of a tiny inconvenience. (That's not true at all. Have you read this blog?) So how come no one ever has anything to say when you ask about their weekend or simply say, "What's been going on?"

Oh well, let's see.

I sprained an ankle. Something strange bit my finger. I didn't see it happen but get a load of this weird rash! Brett has taken to making blueberry pies at strange hours. A new cat now consistently arrives on our porch in the evenings demanding food. (Brett named her Stacy.) Pippa tore an ACL. I haven't heard much my from my sister. I was accused of being too quiet at work and had to participate in a defense of my natural disposition. We've watched two especially bad movies lately. I've come up with a new theory about the color of peoples' shoes. I picked figs out of our tree and made my own Fig Newtons. Brett bought a surfboard. I went into a deep work panic and came out the other side again. Started reading a few new books, looked at houses for sale in the English countryside, and have been working on perfecting a focaccia bread recipe. 

My impromptu birthday gathering.

That's my boss up there. As a birthday treat, he conducted our entire meeting as a piece of cake.

These aren't monumental things. In fact I'd say they're the mundane bits of life, but what else is there? I'll talk at length about all of these things and I bet I'll make you laugh in the process. So in mulling over why no one ever has an answer for "what's new" I've decided that it must be a mindset. I guess they think they have to say something big for it to be worth hearing about, or else they'll make their life sound boring. Except that you having nothing to say is what makes you boring. Maybe people aren't looking at their lives like it's an ever-unfolding story that they don't really have any control over. Who knows what will happen tomorrow! Or maybe people aren't looking for stories in their days if they aren't inclined to write them down.

So, to contradict everything I just wrote, let's focus on the bit where I was interrogated for not having anything to say. The workplace is confused about why I'm always listening. Can you believe that? They want me to contribute more to meetings. I would like that too however, I don't have anything novel to add and don't enjoy talking just for the sake of it - not in a business setting anyway. There are already enough people in meetings talking for the sake of it, and frankly, I don't want to draw out an already too long meeting. I've always been quiet - it annoyed 90% of the teachers I had in school - and foolishly, I suppose, I thought my quietness might be taken as a sign of deep interest in what they were saying, or perhaps some intentional strategizing about your words. Wisdom. Respect. Those kinds of things. What have the loudmouths ever really contributed to a meeting? It's like they've never come up on an introvert before.

Ferguson hinders my productivity.

At the moment, there's a tropical storm dumping rain on the town. It's not a big deal, but Brett and I have a low spot in our septic field - something or other - so on the phone last night, Dad said it's possible that we'll get "backed up." 

"So just don't flush the toilets that often... only flush the hard stuff!" - Dad

And then he howled with laughter.

Photo Dump (As They Say)

 There are still so many goodies. I'll just put them here. 

The Final Days

May 30

On what was Brett and my last day at the house, the weather turned grey and drizzly, so the whole family mostly stayed in. There were plans for the day I think, but everyone wound up distracted and deterred by rain. Brett and Don spent the morning challenging each other about politics and even the food system. Ellen came in a few times, heard the conversation, and then turned around and left. "We're still talking about this?" They would discuss, agree, disagree, discuss some more. It was all very polite. I mostly sat taking it in - a gracious provocation of two of my favorite minds.

Brett and I ran out to pick up lunch for everyone, and came home to a Shanghai game at the dining room table. While we ate and played, a repair man came in to fix some shutters. Despite his best efforts, Dad never really won him over. In this case we can blame it on a language barrier. We carried on with our game and cheered for the repairman after a job well done. 

I have the very distinct feeling of dread that I used to have on Sunday nights before school the next day. Haven't felt this sensation in more than 15 years. I've found it very interesting to revisit - it's still a bad feeling - but less awful since there isn't actually school tomorrow. 

Around 5:00, Brett started working on Chicken Cacciatore for dinner, with Dad and me as sous chefs. We all navigated around each other in the tiny kitchen and washed the knives and cutting boards as we went. (There was only one good knife.) 
We had the Last Supper out on the porch. What a colorful feast! I keep writing it, but our home-cooked meals are the best things we've been eating. (Except for the focaccia bread. How do they make that so fluffy and wonderful?)

After dinner, the guys went all the way up the tower to play pool while the girls sat at the kitchen table and discussed:

-new job (mine)

-new baby (Will and Katie's)

-pets (all)

-recipes (Laurie's)

We eventually went to bed and that's when I had Big Lue's Big Italian Panic Attack. I knew I was anxious about flying home (on account of the in-flight panic attack I had on the way over) but geewillies. Get a hold of yourself! I'm quite accustomed to my own brand of panic attack. They barely worry me because I know their schtick. This was all brand new and much more dramatic than a Lowcountry Panic Attack, so it really gave me a fright. Brett did everything he could and then finally knocked me out with one of Dad's Ambien pills...

May 31

....but I woke up the next day right where I left off.  Brett and I were headed to Switzerland and there was no way I was going to make it. I'll zoom ahead and tell you that I tried to go downstairs like nothing was wrong but the family wasn't fooled and they flocked around me like seagulls and basket of fries. It was embarrassing and sweet. I'll zoom ahead again to tell you that I was given a Xanax and 10 minutes later the world was my oyster. 

Boy, what a drug! Who knew! Once I felt better, my family wandered off for breakfast but Papa Don sat with me awhile and distracted me with his musings. Those Hons always know how to patch me up. Brett and I had a train to catch, so we didn't stick around too much longer.

We were sent off to the train statin with our suitcases and a handful of Xanax to get me back home again. We had been very excited to take the Bernina Express through the Alps over to Zurich. During my panic meltdown I did care one bit about this. "Forget it! I have bigger problems" But now that I was a little high, the party was back on. 

We rode through the snowy mountains in a glass tube and it was beautiful. We sat next to a Dutch man named Tom. He was very quiet and kept to himself unless Brett asked him a question. Every time Brett said, "So Tom..." Tom would go very still and only his eyes would look over at Brett. I almost told Brett to leave him alone, except that once he started talking, Tom seemed happy about giving an answer.

Meanwhile I maintained a delighted zen state and wondered if this is how most people feel everyday - just completely unburdened by anything. "Is this what you feel like?" I asked Brett. He shrugged in a way that I would describe as "affirmatively." It was chilly in the train and I dozed off a few times. The last hour or so really dragged on and on - slow moving train.

Here I am on drugs!

We made it into Zurich around 8pm and hustled through the city to our AirBnb. It was cold and raining but we both immediately loved it. So charming. One half city. One half cobbled, European town. After checking into the AirBnb (with ceilings approximately three inches above Brett's head) we set out in search of dinner. Everywhere was either closed or packed, so we picked up Thai food, put on a movie, and ate noodles in bed. 

June 1

I began my day with half a Xanax...

Turns out my body was very anxious about flying home. I stayed lightly doped up for two days or else the dread would take over. Very embarrassing. Brett and I took on a parent/child relationship that I hope never happens again. He did a great job alternating between coddling me and shoving me out into the world so didn't miss anything. We visited the Swiss museum, walked the river front, visited a few book stores, and Brett ate his way though town. I was too queasy to eat. 

Around 7:00, the parents arrived in town for their flights home tomorrow. We saw Don and Lollie walking down the street and ran up to them all excited, but it really surprised Lollie. She looked SO relived when se realized it was me. I'm quite certain I heard Brett say, "give me all your money!" as he hastily approached Don.  

We met Mom and Dad is a British pub, of all places and had our actual last meal together. During this dinner they told me that Ellen stayed up late to chat last night AND played a few rounds of Shanghai. Can you believe that! Also, they had more gelato.

We had to be out of the pub by 8:30 - it was the European Champions League that night (big deal soccer game) - so we gobbled our grub and said our actual goodbyes. 

On our walk back, we noticed a handful of pubs just loaded with people watching the game. Brett convinced me to watch the first half, so we squeezed in amongst the rowdy revelers and joined in with the universal fun of rooting for something. It was so packed you didn't really have to try to stand up. People were shoved in so close you had no choice but to be upright. I thought of a train ride early on in our trip that was equally as crowded and I was just furious about it. Somehow, in this context, it was fun. Everyone screamed and cheered at the same time. Beer glasses were clinked together, people had screaming conversations in foreign tongues. I'm not sure how, but I had a good time. 

June 2

Took a train to Frankfurt for our flight home. Got in around 4:00. Brett did a workout the hotel gym.

Went down to the hotel restaurant for dinner - they asked if we had a reservation... at the airport hotel. Who has reservations at airport hotels? We found this most amusing but had it hide it. 

We mostly sat in a happy daze, though mine may have been Xanax fueled. The American couple at the next table had the following conversation:

"Well, Don and Chris will be meeting us there. I think Laura is coming later on."

"Well what about Lee?"

"Lee is coming with John and Julie."

"Chris and Laura sure had a good time at the house last summer."

"They did, ever since Don moved back home I see so much more of them."

This carried on a good while. I thought it was a prank of some kind. I looked around for hidden cameras. They just needed a Nancy and an Ellen and I'd have had to interject. If it wasn't for John and Julie...

By the end of the meal, I surmised that Don, Chris, and Laura were the names of the couple's children. Julie and John recently got married. I never worked out who Lee was, but it all made me smile any way. 

Early bedtime. Up at 4am for the trek home.