I am rereading these blogs from years ago. Eight years ago I wrote a blog here referencing Jack Nicholson's great character Melvin Udahl's desperate question, "what if this is as good as it gets?" First of all I can't believe that was eight years ago. Simply can't believe it. I was about to turn 24. Now, I am about to turn 32, tomorrow in fact. I turned 24 in 2009...which, in retrospect, was a huge year for me. Everything in my life changed that year for the better. I wish I could go back to that version of me and tell myself that what I was feeling was right. There IS more to this life. Things CAN be different, and better. And just because I was lucky and grateful and fortunate then doesn't mean that I had to settle for things being a certain way.
And thank god I didn't. My life was already moving in a different direction, though, while I may have had a hunch, I didn't quite realize it at the time.
Later that year, I went to Australia to visit Kolya and Parisa. My six-year relationship with BJW ended in October, and Jason asked me to start Northern Nevada Juniors Volleyball Club with him that September. It was suppose to be a temporary gig, something that would see me through my grad school applications and eventual acceptance.
Fast forward eight years and here is where/what/who I am:
-32
-fiancée to Jason Sterrett, to be married Nov. 18 this year. This partnership brings me unending love, support, stability, and belly laughs.
-step-mom to Jenna and Sofia (something that even at its most terrifying moments is one of the great gifts of my life)
-assistant director/manager/partner in NNJ Volleyball, a 1+ million dollar company that helps in the athletic and personal development of more than 500 girls a year.
-in Reno, and happy to be
-happy in general. No more feelings of "is this as good as it gets?"
-part of a pretty good group of community. Fun, motivated, driven, like-minded.
-one-quarter of the Cirac nuclear family, which brings to me a constant source of humor, strength, and friendship.
-still overweight and non-masters degree'd. These are the two areas that need work.
Rationally I think one knows that a lot can change in a short amount of time. But there's something very poignant in reading your own writing and reflection, and having the ability and gift of hindsight to appreciate where you've been and where you are. The recurring theme: damn I'm lucky.
5.19.2017
5/16/17
There have been multiple times in the last couple of days where my jumbled inner monologue has startled awake into a clear moment of "holy shit how luckyhappygrateful am I?"
I don't say this to brag; rather to note it in a permanent forum which I can go back and read at any time. I often have a difficult time keeping perspective and realizing that my issues are often small, manageable, and mildly insignificant. This week has reminded me that there are very few things out there that should shake me from the strength and confidence I should take from such happiness and stability in my life.
Back to the recap of the week: Tuesday was a powerful and poignant day on all fronts. We woke early planning to walk from our hotel, the Marriott Marquis on 45th, to the 9/11 Memorial in the Financial District. The bellhop scoffed at us and put us in a cab for the three-mile ride (which Brenna would later say she walks all the time and maybe the bellhop gets a kickback from the cabbie?). We arrived at 180 Greenwich Street at 7:30, 20 minutes before our tour opened. We walked along the pools, and then over to Church St and to Trinity Church in search of Duane Reed for some Zicam. We bought a smoothie at a cart and walked back to the memorial for our tour.
For anyone who hasn't toured the memorial, do it right now. At your next possible opportunity. And take the 8:15 am guided tour, with Patrick if you can. It allows you entrance to the museum 45 minutes before it's open to the public, and the quiet and stillness of your time there adds a lot to the poignance of the experience. The huge blue wall is overpowering, with 2,700 water color tiles, each a square block and all a different shade of blue to signify the individual lives lost in the coordinated attacks of 9/11 and the six who died in the WTC attack in 1993. And you hear about the footprints of the towers, but you don't realize what that means until you're standing underground between them. Holding space with the original slurry wall, the final piece to be removed from debris pile, an elevator motor and piece of the north tower's antenna, and the fire truck from ladder 3, the crew of which were the first on scene and none of whom survived. The tour is overwhelming, sadness- and anger-inciting, and somehow it still breeds hope.
We took a much-needed walk through a Battery Park and east along the water, and even considered a helicopter ride. Somehow $1200 for a 15-minute experience didn't seem worth it. After making it to the Brooklyn Bridge and nearly walking underneath it, we decided to grab a cab up to Rockefeller Center. Introducing Kofi the Ghanaian cab driver! I knew within seconds he was from Ghana, and the fortune of my international travel experience is never lost on me. Kofi grew up in Cape Coast, and though I said I'd been there, he insisted on showing me photos on his phone while we ripped through the Lower East Side. He seemed happy to meet someone who knew of his home, and I was so grateful for the excuse to remember a big time in my life. He asked if I ate fufuo and red-red and groundnuts and the whole thing. It was perfect---and made even better by his distaste for Trump's administration. "If you are my neighbor, and we share a three-foot fence, and I don't like the way you look from your kitchen window through my kitchen window, and I want a bigger fence, that is up to me to pay for!" At the suggestion that maybe fences aren't necessary at all, he looked at me like only a Ghanaian could, and said, "well, you and I know that, but clearly he doesn't understand it at all."
Together we talked/vilified Trump as we passed the UN and eventually made it to Rockefeller Center.
After a quick lunch of lobster rolls and chowder, we took a quick nap at the hotel and then headed on a 45-minute cab ride to travel the five miles to Nev and Bre's place in Greenpoint. I can't discuss every detail of the visit here because I simply can't do it justice. The important bits I want to take away are: the apartment is lovely, the neighborhood is fabulous, Paulie Gee's pizza was delicious and he skis at Alpine/N Star, we had a drink on the fabulous Barge Bar, and we enjoyed wine on the rooftop terrace that overlooks the Manhattan skyline. All of these things are incredible, but most incredible is the relationship I am so lucky to have with these two beautiful people. Even more lucky is the fact that J and Brenna seem to be kindred spirits and have a natural ease of talking about how they view the world and the people in it. Brenna is a true role model to me, and I'm amazed each time we visit at how easy our connection is. Nevada is honestly my oldest friend, and a true one at that. I used to wonder if we were only connected through our shared history and families, but with each visit I become more confident that we have formed a true friendship separate of those ideas. I truly feel comfortable and open with them, for which I am grateful as we all know that it's not the way I often move through the world. Maybe it's an indicator that my closest friends live far away---perhaps I'm intolerable in close proximity, but I am beyond happy and grateful for these two in my life, however I can get them.
I don't say this to brag; rather to note it in a permanent forum which I can go back and read at any time. I often have a difficult time keeping perspective and realizing that my issues are often small, manageable, and mildly insignificant. This week has reminded me that there are very few things out there that should shake me from the strength and confidence I should take from such happiness and stability in my life.
Back to the recap of the week: Tuesday was a powerful and poignant day on all fronts. We woke early planning to walk from our hotel, the Marriott Marquis on 45th, to the 9/11 Memorial in the Financial District. The bellhop scoffed at us and put us in a cab for the three-mile ride (which Brenna would later say she walks all the time and maybe the bellhop gets a kickback from the cabbie?). We arrived at 180 Greenwich Street at 7:30, 20 minutes before our tour opened. We walked along the pools, and then over to Church St and to Trinity Church in search of Duane Reed for some Zicam. We bought a smoothie at a cart and walked back to the memorial for our tour.
For anyone who hasn't toured the memorial, do it right now. At your next possible opportunity. And take the 8:15 am guided tour, with Patrick if you can. It allows you entrance to the museum 45 minutes before it's open to the public, and the quiet and stillness of your time there adds a lot to the poignance of the experience. The huge blue wall is overpowering, with 2,700 water color tiles, each a square block and all a different shade of blue to signify the individual lives lost in the coordinated attacks of 9/11 and the six who died in the WTC attack in 1993. And you hear about the footprints of the towers, but you don't realize what that means until you're standing underground between them. Holding space with the original slurry wall, the final piece to be removed from debris pile, an elevator motor and piece of the north tower's antenna, and the fire truck from ladder 3, the crew of which were the first on scene and none of whom survived. The tour is overwhelming, sadness- and anger-inciting, and somehow it still breeds hope.
We took a much-needed walk through a Battery Park and east along the water, and even considered a helicopter ride. Somehow $1200 for a 15-minute experience didn't seem worth it. After making it to the Brooklyn Bridge and nearly walking underneath it, we decided to grab a cab up to Rockefeller Center. Introducing Kofi the Ghanaian cab driver! I knew within seconds he was from Ghana, and the fortune of my international travel experience is never lost on me. Kofi grew up in Cape Coast, and though I said I'd been there, he insisted on showing me photos on his phone while we ripped through the Lower East Side. He seemed happy to meet someone who knew of his home, and I was so grateful for the excuse to remember a big time in my life. He asked if I ate fufuo and red-red and groundnuts and the whole thing. It was perfect---and made even better by his distaste for Trump's administration. "If you are my neighbor, and we share a three-foot fence, and I don't like the way you look from your kitchen window through my kitchen window, and I want a bigger fence, that is up to me to pay for!" At the suggestion that maybe fences aren't necessary at all, he looked at me like only a Ghanaian could, and said, "well, you and I know that, but clearly he doesn't understand it at all."
Together we talked/vilified Trump as we passed the UN and eventually made it to Rockefeller Center.
After a quick lunch of lobster rolls and chowder, we took a quick nap at the hotel and then headed on a 45-minute cab ride to travel the five miles to Nev and Bre's place in Greenpoint. I can't discuss every detail of the visit here because I simply can't do it justice. The important bits I want to take away are: the apartment is lovely, the neighborhood is fabulous, Paulie Gee's pizza was delicious and he skis at Alpine/N Star, we had a drink on the fabulous Barge Bar, and we enjoyed wine on the rooftop terrace that overlooks the Manhattan skyline. All of these things are incredible, but most incredible is the relationship I am so lucky to have with these two beautiful people. Even more lucky is the fact that J and Brenna seem to be kindred spirits and have a natural ease of talking about how they view the world and the people in it. Brenna is a true role model to me, and I'm amazed each time we visit at how easy our connection is. Nevada is honestly my oldest friend, and a true one at that. I used to wonder if we were only connected through our shared history and families, but with each visit I become more confident that we have formed a true friendship separate of those ideas. I truly feel comfortable and open with them, for which I am grateful as we all know that it's not the way I often move through the world. Maybe it's an indicator that my closest friends live far away---perhaps I'm intolerable in close proximity, but I am beyond happy and grateful for these two in my life, however I can get them.
5.15.2017
NYC 2017-5/16/17
Jason has surprised me with a trip to New York City for my birthday this year. Not really surprised me, since I've known about it since March, but still...the whole thing was his idea. And what a great idea it was. We just finished Day 1 and I'm feeling the urge to document the day so that I don't forget what we did, and even more, how I feel.
We left Reno last night at 11:59 p.m. We took the JetBlue redeye, which was my first experience on the airline and on a redeye flight in general. Even after two margaritas and a Xanax, I was wide awake, yet exhausted, and pretty nervous. I don't know from what or from where this fear of flying has come, but it is not fun. I was genuinely convinced the whole flight that we weren't going to make it. Every change in sound, every bump, every light flicker has me assuming that something bad is happening. It's awful...and I need to get a grip on it because I don't want it to affect my desire to travel.
We arrived at JFK at 8:30 a.m., and were met by our lovely Armenian driver Asa. The 17-mile drive took us a solid 90 minutes, through Jamaica and other parts of Queens, and finally over the Queensborough bridge to Manhattan. Asa told us a lot about how he had been in the rug restoration business until 2001, when, after 9/11, people stopped buying Persian and Turkish rugs. Whether the economy changed or people didn't want to buy rugs from him he didn't know, but he changed careers and became a driver. He was warm and open, and gave us a nice rundown of each area through which we passed as he drove us to our hotel.
We're staying at the Marriott Marquis in Times Square. As we were pulling up, we passed both the Imperial and Richard Rodgers theaters, home to The Great Comet and Hamilton, respectively. I am completely obsessed with the latter, and have been for about six months. Turns out Jason surprised me with tickets, thanks to help from Tina Wheeler (thanks, Tina!), and the theater is honestly next door to the hotel. J also got tickets to the Great Comet for Wednesday afternoon, and that is on the other side of the RR theater from us. We had no idea when we booked the hotel that the Theater District was right here, let alone that we would be next door to the part of the trip to which I'm looking the most forward.
The best part of the hotel---aside from its great location, is that it's free! We managed to secure six nights using points that we accrued from the season on the Marriott card we got at the beginning of the season---total score!
After checking in, we had a $70 breakfast buffet (!) at the hotel, and then took a much, much needed nap.
We woke around 4 p.m to walk around and explore a bit. Before we knew it, we'd purchased tickets for Lion King on Wednesday night and to a play called The Play Gone Wrong for Thursday evening. Our week is shaping up so nicely; quite frankly, I could stay in this little area and go to a play every single day.
We decided to look into School of Rock and tickets for tonight were available. We grabbed a quick dinner of Greek salad, spinach pie, and a delicious coconut macaroon at a nearby deli before heading back to the Winter Garden Theater for School of Rock. The show was great, the kids were darling and incredibly talented, and we left with huge smiles on our faces. We then found a small Irish pub and watched quarters 3&4 of Game 7 between Celtics and Wizards. Boston came out on top as we had steak, shrimp, and veggies for dinner, followed by strawberry ice cream and Bailey's for dessert.
Tomorrow we have a tour planned at 8:15 a.m at the 9/11 Memorial, followed by a day with Brenna and eventually Nevada. I am so grateful to have kept relationships with them as an adult, and am especially grateful that J is also excited to see and spend time with them, and vice versa.
It's really important that I remember days like these (weeks like these, actually) as they are the majority of my days and I am so absurdly lucky. It is a luxury to pick up and leave home for a week, stay in a beautiful hotel, buy tickets randomly to multiple Broadway shows, and not have to worry about money spent on food or transportation. I never, ever want to forget or take for granted how fortunate I am, specifically for our resources, but especially for having a partner who has ensured our success and stability. We've both worked hard, but it's his vision that has secured this life for us. Plus, he is just really fund to hang out with!
The lineup for the week:
Tuesday: 9/11, Trinity Church, High Line, and Nev and Bre Day!
Wednesday: The Great Comet 2 p.m., Lion King 7 p.m.
Thursday: The Play Gone Wrong
Friday: HAMILTON!!!
Saturday: ??? SNL? Live taping of a show???
Sunday: ??? Flight leaves at 7:30 p.m.
Lucky, lucky, lu
We left Reno last night at 11:59 p.m. We took the JetBlue redeye, which was my first experience on the airline and on a redeye flight in general. Even after two margaritas and a Xanax, I was wide awake, yet exhausted, and pretty nervous. I don't know from what or from where this fear of flying has come, but it is not fun. I was genuinely convinced the whole flight that we weren't going to make it. Every change in sound, every bump, every light flicker has me assuming that something bad is happening. It's awful...and I need to get a grip on it because I don't want it to affect my desire to travel.
We arrived at JFK at 8:30 a.m., and were met by our lovely Armenian driver Asa. The 17-mile drive took us a solid 90 minutes, through Jamaica and other parts of Queens, and finally over the Queensborough bridge to Manhattan. Asa told us a lot about how he had been in the rug restoration business until 2001, when, after 9/11, people stopped buying Persian and Turkish rugs. Whether the economy changed or people didn't want to buy rugs from him he didn't know, but he changed careers and became a driver. He was warm and open, and gave us a nice rundown of each area through which we passed as he drove us to our hotel.
We're staying at the Marriott Marquis in Times Square. As we were pulling up, we passed both the Imperial and Richard Rodgers theaters, home to The Great Comet and Hamilton, respectively. I am completely obsessed with the latter, and have been for about six months. Turns out Jason surprised me with tickets, thanks to help from Tina Wheeler (thanks, Tina!), and the theater is honestly next door to the hotel. J also got tickets to the Great Comet for Wednesday afternoon, and that is on the other side of the RR theater from us. We had no idea when we booked the hotel that the Theater District was right here, let alone that we would be next door to the part of the trip to which I'm looking the most forward.
The best part of the hotel---aside from its great location, is that it's free! We managed to secure six nights using points that we accrued from the season on the Marriott card we got at the beginning of the season---total score!
After checking in, we had a $70 breakfast buffet (!) at the hotel, and then took a much, much needed nap.
We woke around 4 p.m to walk around and explore a bit. Before we knew it, we'd purchased tickets for Lion King on Wednesday night and to a play called The Play Gone Wrong for Thursday evening. Our week is shaping up so nicely; quite frankly, I could stay in this little area and go to a play every single day.
We decided to look into School of Rock and tickets for tonight were available. We grabbed a quick dinner of Greek salad, spinach pie, and a delicious coconut macaroon at a nearby deli before heading back to the Winter Garden Theater for School of Rock. The show was great, the kids were darling and incredibly talented, and we left with huge smiles on our faces. We then found a small Irish pub and watched quarters 3&4 of Game 7 between Celtics and Wizards. Boston came out on top as we had steak, shrimp, and veggies for dinner, followed by strawberry ice cream and Bailey's for dessert.
Tomorrow we have a tour planned at 8:15 a.m at the 9/11 Memorial, followed by a day with Brenna and eventually Nevada. I am so grateful to have kept relationships with them as an adult, and am especially grateful that J is also excited to see and spend time with them, and vice versa.
It's really important that I remember days like these (weeks like these, actually) as they are the majority of my days and I am so absurdly lucky. It is a luxury to pick up and leave home for a week, stay in a beautiful hotel, buy tickets randomly to multiple Broadway shows, and not have to worry about money spent on food or transportation. I never, ever want to forget or take for granted how fortunate I am, specifically for our resources, but especially for having a partner who has ensured our success and stability. We've both worked hard, but it's his vision that has secured this life for us. Plus, he is just really fund to hang out with!
The lineup for the week:
Tuesday: 9/11, Trinity Church, High Line, and Nev and Bre Day!
Wednesday: The Great Comet 2 p.m., Lion King 7 p.m.
Thursday: The Play Gone Wrong
Friday: HAMILTON!!!
Saturday: ??? SNL? Live taping of a show???
Sunday: ??? Flight leaves at 7:30 p.m.
Lucky, lucky, lu
6.02.2012
My, how time flies.
After an especially emotionally draining day and night, I decided that it was time I get in a good jot. A good jotting down of ideas, of feelings, of hopes, of fears. What better place to do such a thing than a blog! I thought I was a genius until I suddenly realized that I already have one of those! And, imagine my disgust, when I come to look at it after all this time and find that it has been two years since my last post.
Two years!
I have always considered myself a writer...or at least a wannabe. But what kind of writer, wannabe or not, writes every two years?
Certainly not a very good one.
Thus begins yet another pledge to myself to write regularly. I can imagine coming back in one year or more to see this 'pledge' having gone desperately awry, and can imagine the urge I would have to hit myself in the face with a spoon.
I suppose we shall see.
So much has changed in the two years since my last post. I had just turned 25; well, I just turned 27. I didn't see a 'life path' or course for myself. Well, for the last two years I have been basically running a small business. Granted, with a partner....but still.
It's funny how time flies when you're having fun. This time has been by far the most challenging and most rewarding of my life. Someday I'll document it all. But, now is not the time. Now is the time to move forward and stop looking back. It takes a bit of bravery...but if I could just keep that forward glance...
Two years!
I have always considered myself a writer...or at least a wannabe. But what kind of writer, wannabe or not, writes every two years?
Certainly not a very good one.
Thus begins yet another pledge to myself to write regularly. I can imagine coming back in one year or more to see this 'pledge' having gone desperately awry, and can imagine the urge I would have to hit myself in the face with a spoon.
I suppose we shall see.
So much has changed in the two years since my last post. I had just turned 25; well, I just turned 27. I didn't see a 'life path' or course for myself. Well, for the last two years I have been basically running a small business. Granted, with a partner....but still.
It's funny how time flies when you're having fun. This time has been by far the most challenging and most rewarding of my life. Someday I'll document it all. But, now is not the time. Now is the time to move forward and stop looking back. It takes a bit of bravery...but if I could just keep that forward glance...
6.06.2010
Musings on Ma and Pop, and a bit on 2010
It's been awhile since I've written. Shocking, I know.
It has been one hell of five-month drought. Much has happened, some things wonderful, some things bordering on tragic. Some things reassuring, and some things a little disheartening.
But, I can say that as of right now, June 6, 2010, I may be the happiest that I have ever been. Ever.
The majority of this happiness is a temporary glee that has been induced by the last 24 hours of being in Spain with my parents. I came a week ago, on May 27, and they were barely able to make it over yesterday, June 5. Mom and Dad (but let's be honest, mainly just Mom) spent almost a year planning this trip. They rented the Cortijo Estacada de las Cabras, a villa that sleeps 20, about 50 km outside of Sevilla in southern Spain. They convinced their friends to come. They planned the day trips. The bought the plane and train tickets and rented the cars. They put in the deposits.
And after all of that, it was looking like they weren't going to be able to come at all. And it is for this reason that I am so absurdly happy to be able to spend this time with them.
It has dawned on me in the last six weeks since Mom got sick that, not only have I turned 25 this year, but the people around me are also getting older. It's easy to get wrapped up in the self and not pay as much attention to those around you. It really struck me in April that Dad was turning 55, and that Mom would be 52 in June. Fortunately we live in a time and country in which these are still considered to be 'young' ages and that one can say with a good amount of certainty that there is plenty of good, healthy, happy, mobile life left. But unfortunately, my parents, Dad especially, don't take the greatest care with their bodies in the day-to-day.
I was grateful and excited when I decided not to go to South Africa for many reasons. The greatest of them by far was that I could spend this time in Spain with Mom and Dad. Because, while they are still relatively healthy and youthful, I just don't know how many more opportunities there will be. I will eventually be married with kids and they will age quicker and quicker. How many times are there in the future to travel internationally and have races in pools and goofy diving contests and cook and eat good food together and see ancient ruins in beautiful old cities?
I am incredibly grateful now that I made that decision then. Even without Mom's struggles of the last six weeks, I would be grateful. But with them, my gratitude is inimitable. Unexplainable.
On April 20 Mom called me and thought she had the stomach flu. She was 'coming down with something' and wasn't feeling well. Then on April 21 Dad called and said he was taking her to the emergency room. Then later on April 21 they were going in for emergency surgery to operate on her appendix, which had ruptured god-knows-how-long earlier.
It is no fun to see your mama laid up in a hospital bed. Period. The community from the college completely rallied around her—there were cards and cards and cards and flowers and flowers and teddy bears. Dad literally had to shut off the phone and have the nurses turn away visitors daily so that she could rest. It was a beautiful thing among the chaos that was going on in her body.
As of April 27 she was still not better and wasn't progressing well from the surgery. Who knew that appendix surgery could be so complicated? She had gained 25 lbs. of water weight and her digestive system wasn't working correctly. (Oh and the geniuses at the hospital still hadn't put her on any intravenous nutrition—which, let me tell you, my nurse aunt Cookie was just thrilled about)
On April 30 they found abscesses with infections in her belly. Because the first surgery was so invasive and they had to clean out the toxins from so much of her system, the doc had said there was a high-risk of infection. In reality we couldn't really be surprised that she required a second surgery to remove the abscesses. But it didn't mean that we were happy about it. And at this point, 27 days before she was scheduled to leave for Spain and France for a month...things weren't looking good.
The surgery went well, and the retention sutures that they used helped her heal quickly and prevented her internal and external incisions from opening. The center of the abdomen is such an integral part to most movements that we make, and even a small wrong turn could have opened her back up again without those sutures. They also put in a drainage system that flushed the system while also removing the yuckiness, which helped decrease cause for concern for more infection. This system was painful for Mom as she could feel it pulsing and cycling through.
A few days after, they put in a Wound-Vac. It was a similar system, though portable. It continued to drain her system of toxins and residual post-surgery icky stuff. She was making remarkable progress at this time, though to her it felt slow and painful and frustrating. She was walking around the hospital more, regaining color, losing fluid, and moving more easily in her hospital bed.
This is after the surgeon told her multiple times that he almost lost her, and that she was lucky to be alive. That she had almost died. Which to me still doesn't sound real or even possible at all.
I had a tournament to coach May 8 and 9—Mother's Day. I got the best call ever from Dad who said she was being released from the hospital. It was the best Mother's Day 'gift' for her ever, although she did it for herself. Her fortitude and tenacity and determination was inspiring, and though it was heartbreaking to see her frustrated and in pain and struggling, her strength shone through and she secured a speedy recovery for herself.
At home for the next two weeks she lay in bed knitting and watching movies, which, if you've met my mother, is extraordinarily difficult. No daily walk through the mountains. No laundry. No house cleaning. No work. Just rest.
And then it was still uncertain if she would make Spain at all. It came right down to the wire. She was officially cleared to come May 25, two days before I and the rest of the crew flew out of Reno. No pain meds. No weird drainage systems. No crazy open gaps in her stomach. No nada.
And this morning, June 6, she is swimming laps in the pool and lying in the sun and laughing with her friends with a glass of rosé in her hand. In Spain.
This situation has really made me stop and think. It is cliché to say and horribly contrived...but, all of this could really be gone in an instant.
To quote Brandon Boyd, "And in this moment I am happy." (And I have to say that if I Wish Anyone Were Here---Pierre should be. It would complete it even more than it is now)
I feel like a kid. Waking up to swim in the pool with Dad.
Taking his advice to improve my breath-holding skills (which suck) so I can swim multiple lengths of the pool underwater.
Hearing about Ruben Nabarra, the ex-Mexican national team swimmer who had to resort to spending his life as a 'wetback' ( no negative connotation intended) in Smoky Valley, teaching young Paul how to swim.
Doing crosswords with Mom.
Eating anchovy-stuffed olives in warm weather and not out of Christmas stocking (yes we have some weird traditions).
Making gnosh plates for dinner.
Hearing them laugh.
Watching them swim and play in the pool together like they're in puppy love. Like they met last week instead of 30 years ago.
It is a beautiful thing.
1.15.2010
Pintar sin miedo
Pintar sin miedo. Rire sin miedo. Trabajar sin miedo. Se divertir sin miedo. Vivir sin miedo...
I forget how many wonderful things happen on Global Voice exchanges. Among them so far in only three days:
I forget how many wonderful things happen on Global Voice exchanges. Among them so far in only three days:
- a beautiful welcoming ceremony-assembly at the middle school where we are working, including an arrangment for vocals, guitar and keyboards of ''Imagine'' that made me bawl my eyes out. There's something about that song that is so universally hopeful and powerful, and for a band of Mexican middle school students to perform it in honor of our 'intercambio' was just so emotionally supercharging that I was overflowing with emotion. I think they thought that something was really wrong with me because I probably looked like my favorite puppy just died of some horrible disease.
- relationships among kids who don't speak the same language, and the realization that verbal communication is a tiny part of how we understand each other
- gaining confidence in my horribly broken but nevertheless optimistic and tenacious Spanish
- time to read books. New concept.
- teaching a French class with a Canadian in Mexico. 'Nough said
- beautiful sunsets with palm trees silhouetted in black against yellow, orange and pink
- new ideas
- an appreciation for home and everything there, most of all what I have spent the last six months doing with my life. This is the first time in all my travels that I have a deep-rooted longing for home. It's actually a little painful. I miss my girls and my coaches and my cat. For the first time, I feel like I've done something right and am doing what I want to do with my life!
1.11.2010
Hola de Téacapan
Global Voice 2010 came right up on me. I was not ready for it at all. Not mentally, not emotionally, not career-ly. I feel a bit guilty about that, but all my fears and reservations and hesitations have been completely extinguished in the 24 hours or so since we've arrived in Sinaloa.
After a long travel day (4:30 a.m. at the airport, layover in Phoenix, bumpy flights, etc.) we met with Ricardo Topete at the airport in Mazatlan. Another wonderful man from a wonderful family connection of the Griffins, he is the principal at the middle school where we've chosen to spend the two weeks of our exchange.
After renting a van and driving about an hour to Escuinapa, home of the Topetes, we were met with his family: wife Marta, and three daughters who are all as different as can be. Arim, 28, lived in Reno for 5 years and is in international finance. She flies from place to place analyzing market risk for investor. Spain. Puerto Rico. Pakistan. Turkey.
Lucky girl.
Marien is almost 24, a quiet and petite girl who lived with the Griffins on exchange during 2005. Marta, the youngest, is a gregarious, bubble and emotive girl of 20. She studies at Luzanne, in Switzerland. Another lucky girl.
Marta Sr.'s family comes from Puebla, and the family made an absurdly delicious and beautiful meal from the region. Poblanos with bananas and chicken. Molé. Beans. Tortillas. Salsa fresca. So so good.
We ate in the beautiful garden of their large home. I am always amazed at the architecture and style in Mexico. Every building has a tiny and unassuming street-side face. When you open the gate to go in though, it´s like a huge world opens up. Trees. Flowers. Foliage. Gorgeous.
We met most of the familia de Topete including César, a 17-yeaer-old high school student who will return with us to start school in Virginia City as an exchange student for the semester. He´s used to small towns. So it will all work out.
After a trip to the grocery store for food for the week and a stop at the ATM, we jumped back in the cars to head to Téacapan, a small fishing village set right up against the coast. Literally 30-seconds from nuestra casita is the Pacific. It was a beautiful drive in, with the sun setting against the palm trees and hills in the distance. This part of the country is much greener and more lush in comparison with the Sea of Cortez side (Loreto is one of my favorite places).
After a quick settle-in, very quick group discussion, and some snacking we headed to bed in the large Topete family home. It´s beautful, with tile floors, two levels and two bungalows in the enormous and lush front yard. All together the place sleeps 16 very comfortably. It has been awhile since its been used though so we do have some adventures in front of us regarding bugs, plumbing, etc. I suppose the experience wouldn´t be what it is without these small humps to accept.
We slept quickly because we were all so tired from the day´s travelling. I slept easily from 10 p.m. to 8:30 this morning, uninterrupted save for a brief moment at God know´s what time when I put my ear plugs in to rescue me from the buzzing of a nearby mosquito.
Speaking of mosquitos, I don´t think I've been in an area where there are so many mosquitos since Ghana. At least I haven't thought about it before. It's appropriate since this week marks my four year anniversary of my departure to Ghana. This is completely mind-blowing to me as I often feel like it was just yesterday that I was there. Anyway, I´m wondering if I could have a malaria flare up? In my more paranoid moments I wonder if a mosquito bites me if it's possible for them to get infected. I would really hate to cause any malaria outbreaks throughout the entire country of Mexico. Hrmmmm...ideas?
Will add more at a later time. Right now I must get back to the casita from the internet cafe. I think tamales await. Love to all!
After a long travel day (4:30 a.m. at the airport, layover in Phoenix, bumpy flights, etc.) we met with Ricardo Topete at the airport in Mazatlan. Another wonderful man from a wonderful family connection of the Griffins, he is the principal at the middle school where we've chosen to spend the two weeks of our exchange.
After renting a van and driving about an hour to Escuinapa, home of the Topetes, we were met with his family: wife Marta, and three daughters who are all as different as can be. Arim, 28, lived in Reno for 5 years and is in international finance. She flies from place to place analyzing market risk for investor. Spain. Puerto Rico. Pakistan. Turkey.
Lucky girl.
Marien is almost 24, a quiet and petite girl who lived with the Griffins on exchange during 2005. Marta, the youngest, is a gregarious, bubble and emotive girl of 20. She studies at Luzanne, in Switzerland. Another lucky girl.
Marta Sr.'s family comes from Puebla, and the family made an absurdly delicious and beautiful meal from the region. Poblanos with bananas and chicken. Molé. Beans. Tortillas. Salsa fresca. So so good.
We ate in the beautiful garden of their large home. I am always amazed at the architecture and style in Mexico. Every building has a tiny and unassuming street-side face. When you open the gate to go in though, it´s like a huge world opens up. Trees. Flowers. Foliage. Gorgeous.
We met most of the familia de Topete including César, a 17-yeaer-old high school student who will return with us to start school in Virginia City as an exchange student for the semester. He´s used to small towns. So it will all work out.
After a trip to the grocery store for food for the week and a stop at the ATM, we jumped back in the cars to head to Téacapan, a small fishing village set right up against the coast. Literally 30-seconds from nuestra casita is the Pacific. It was a beautiful drive in, with the sun setting against the palm trees and hills in the distance. This part of the country is much greener and more lush in comparison with the Sea of Cortez side (Loreto is one of my favorite places).
After a quick settle-in, very quick group discussion, and some snacking we headed to bed in the large Topete family home. It´s beautful, with tile floors, two levels and two bungalows in the enormous and lush front yard. All together the place sleeps 16 very comfortably. It has been awhile since its been used though so we do have some adventures in front of us regarding bugs, plumbing, etc. I suppose the experience wouldn´t be what it is without these small humps to accept.
We slept quickly because we were all so tired from the day´s travelling. I slept easily from 10 p.m. to 8:30 this morning, uninterrupted save for a brief moment at God know´s what time when I put my ear plugs in to rescue me from the buzzing of a nearby mosquito.
Speaking of mosquitos, I don´t think I've been in an area where there are so many mosquitos since Ghana. At least I haven't thought about it before. It's appropriate since this week marks my four year anniversary of my departure to Ghana. This is completely mind-blowing to me as I often feel like it was just yesterday that I was there. Anyway, I´m wondering if I could have a malaria flare up? In my more paranoid moments I wonder if a mosquito bites me if it's possible for them to get infected. I would really hate to cause any malaria outbreaks throughout the entire country of Mexico. Hrmmmm...ideas?
Will add more at a later time. Right now I must get back to the casita from the internet cafe. I think tamales await. Love to all!
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