I love my husband. He's such a details nerd.
He's online looking at a road construction plan for a big freeway "to do" that's been going on in our city. He's reading the plans and specs aloud and marveling at how much more efficient it will be. As he has been feeling like death warmed over for the last few days - enough so that he will not be accompanying me to a play tonight and that we had to disinvite friends from a Superbowl get-together tomorrow night - I am satisfied that he is content to geek out over publicly available engineering details.
In the meantime, I have been going through laptop withdrawal. My endearing iBook that I've had for 3 years and some change, suddenly, and without warning, went kaput about a week ago. Thankfully - and amazingly - it was mere moments after I had finished some work for my office and emailed it to myself there. It needs a new harddrive, but right now it's looking like we'll just buy a refurbished (more recent) model. Since we were probably going to buy a whole new one next year, we may as well get one with a few months under the hood this year - especially since the cost of a new harddrive would be half the cost of a refurbished one with a warranty.
All this is to say: this is why I haven't posted, surfed blogs or sent you the delicious bananas foster recipe I promised. (Okay, I've promised none of you any such thing, but it's the comedy rule of three. I needed a punchline.) I've been leeching off of my computer at work to do my personal email, and it's been weird to come home and not go check out the sites I wouldn't dare check at work. (None of them dirty, just ... you know. Not cool for workies to see.)
I leave you with two non-sequitirs:
1) Now that Edwards has dropped out, I'm unsure who to support. Not that I've been bursting at the seams for anyone, really. My gut says Obama, but it's really hard for me to get past his lack of Washington experience. Even Edwards had a solid term under his belt. Nonetheless, I feel he can do a better job of bringing people together than Hillary. As much as I admire her, on many levels, and as popular as she is among the base, the sad truth is, come November, it's not the base that will be voting for her. The electorate will include myriad of people who despise her specifically because she is unapologetic about being a powerful woman. (She shouldn't be, of course, but that's neither here nor there.) There will be myriad voters who despise her for myriad other reasons; many petty, some legitimate. It's hard for me to throw my support behind someone who is essentially a lightning rod; we can't have divisive folks anymore, even if - counter to what Shrub insisted, I fully believe he intended to divide - you go in wanting, with all your heart, to bring two sides together. ... all that, and frankly, I find it hard to support her because I've been watching her since 2000, and until she began her campaign, I don't think she put enough distance between herself and some critical Bush policies. ... so that's what's on my mind as our primary nears.
2) Below is a link to a video of a performance group I love. I think they really challenge us to think about what art is, what performance is, what social experiment is and what the role of the audience is. Enjoy Improv Everywhere's recent "mission." ... oh, and it reminded me of a similar art blog that RocketBoom did a few months ago. (But IE's was cooler!) (PS. It may be sacrosanct in the nerd world, but I like RocketBoom' Joanne Colan a lot better than her predecessor, Amanda Congdon. The former is much more natural than the latter.)
Now, off to see a play!
PS. If anyone can tell me how I embed Youtube/Brightcove/MilkandCookies/etc, etc, videos here, I'd appreciate it. I feel like such a dork just posting links.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
El trabajo del salvador en El Salvador
I talked to my parents last night.
My mom's cholesterol is coming down. Her blood pressure is stable.
Dad is going to El Savador.
WHAAA?!
Yeah. He's going next month for about a week with a Christian aid group that digs wells to bring fresh, clean water to poor, remote villages. This is nice and good, except for a couple of things:
1) My father has post-polio syndrome and can't walk a whole lot. He uses a cane, he tires easily. He's essentially a 61 year old man in the body of a 76 year old man. The group he's going with has assured Mom that they'll be in flat-ish land - better for digging wells - so it's not like he'll have to heft up slopes just to get to an outhouse.
2) It's EL SALVADOR!!
I keep thinking back to the handful of teenage boys my church provided refuge to as they passed through West Texas en route to DC and New York City, 17 years ago. They ranged in age from 14 (my age then) to 19. They fled door-to-door conscription by either the rebels or the government. I can't remember which. All I remember was that they were forced with an option: take the gun we're thrusting you, or we kill you.
I know technically, El Salvador has been "at peace" for the last 16 years, but it's a country where that peace is tenuous at best. And if some FARC-style faction attacks their group, my dad is not in the kind of physical condition where he could run or hide out in the jungle. Do they have FARC-style groups there? I hope not.
Dad won't be doing any well-digging. He's physically incapable. He won't be one of the educators who give hygiene classes, because his Spanish is merely conversational. In fact, he said when the group approached him - usually this organization sends teams of various folks, but this time the entire team is from his church - he declined for the above reasons. But they persisted, so he's gonna go and ... hang out. "Maybe they'll ask me to do something 'spiritual.' I dunno," he told me. The organization has sent been sending teams to build wells in tiny 3rd world villages for 20 years or so. They usually go to Africa, but have done a lot of work in Central and South America as well as Asia. The team-leads for Dad's group have done about 6, themselves. He'll be with a group of about 10. There's a liaison in the town with whom the group has been working, so it's not like the locals will be startled by a group of smiling Americans with shovels and soap. Everything about this trip sounds just great. It's the kind of thing I've always wanted to do, but have not yet had the chance to do. It's the kind of thing Dad used to do when he younger and abler. My brother used to do stuff like this in Mexico. Everything about it sounds find, except for the location.
Maybe I'm being too worried. When I was in college, at least once or twice a year, our church would send groups to Nicaragua to small towns to build churches and schools. (I was always working.) And one of Dad's good minister friends went to Nicaragua years ago to help clean up after Hurricane Mitch and discovered a hell of a lot of orphaned street boys. So he stayed and established a home and school for these kids whom society has abandoned. Heck, Honey and I got lost one night driving around in Johannesburg - and anyone will tell you that Joburg is the most dangerous city in South Africa, the carjack capital of the world. And we weren't with any organization. The point is, if people go into other countries which have suffered war and political upheaval, as aid workers or as tourists all the time with no troubles, then maybe I should just relax. At least Dad can speak the language. I know the children and old people in the village will love him. (Dad's always a hit with folks on either end of the age spectrum.)
Still, he's my poppa. And he's got physical limitations. And it's ... El Salvador. It's going to be a nerve-wracking week for me. I can tell you that!
My mom's cholesterol is coming down. Her blood pressure is stable.
Dad is going to El Savador.
WHAAA?!
Yeah. He's going next month for about a week with a Christian aid group that digs wells to bring fresh, clean water to poor, remote villages. This is nice and good, except for a couple of things:
1) My father has post-polio syndrome and can't walk a whole lot. He uses a cane, he tires easily. He's essentially a 61 year old man in the body of a 76 year old man. The group he's going with has assured Mom that they'll be in flat-ish land - better for digging wells - so it's not like he'll have to heft up slopes just to get to an outhouse.
2) It's EL SALVADOR!!
I keep thinking back to the handful of teenage boys my church provided refuge to as they passed through West Texas en route to DC and New York City, 17 years ago. They ranged in age from 14 (my age then) to 19. They fled door-to-door conscription by either the rebels or the government. I can't remember which. All I remember was that they were forced with an option: take the gun we're thrusting you, or we kill you.
I know technically, El Salvador has been "at peace" for the last 16 years, but it's a country where that peace is tenuous at best. And if some FARC-style faction attacks their group, my dad is not in the kind of physical condition where he could run or hide out in the jungle. Do they have FARC-style groups there? I hope not.
Dad won't be doing any well-digging. He's physically incapable. He won't be one of the educators who give hygiene classes, because his Spanish is merely conversational. In fact, he said when the group approached him - usually this organization sends teams of various folks, but this time the entire team is from his church - he declined for the above reasons. But they persisted, so he's gonna go and ... hang out. "Maybe they'll ask me to do something 'spiritual.' I dunno," he told me. The organization has sent been sending teams to build wells in tiny 3rd world villages for 20 years or so. They usually go to Africa, but have done a lot of work in Central and South America as well as Asia. The team-leads for Dad's group have done about 6, themselves. He'll be with a group of about 10. There's a liaison in the town with whom the group has been working, so it's not like the locals will be startled by a group of smiling Americans with shovels and soap. Everything about this trip sounds just great. It's the kind of thing I've always wanted to do, but have not yet had the chance to do. It's the kind of thing Dad used to do when he younger and abler. My brother used to do stuff like this in Mexico. Everything about it sounds find, except for the location.
Maybe I'm being too worried. When I was in college, at least once or twice a year, our church would send groups to Nicaragua to small towns to build churches and schools. (I was always working.) And one of Dad's good minister friends went to Nicaragua years ago to help clean up after Hurricane Mitch and discovered a hell of a lot of orphaned street boys. So he stayed and established a home and school for these kids whom society has abandoned. Heck, Honey and I got lost one night driving around in Johannesburg - and anyone will tell you that Joburg is the most dangerous city in South Africa, the carjack capital of the world. And we weren't with any organization. The point is, if people go into other countries which have suffered war and political upheaval, as aid workers or as tourists all the time with no troubles, then maybe I should just relax. At least Dad can speak the language. I know the children and old people in the village will love him. (Dad's always a hit with folks on either end of the age spectrum.)
Still, he's my poppa. And he's got physical limitations. And it's ... El Salvador. It's going to be a nerve-wracking week for me. I can tell you that!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Book Challenges and Blessings
Darla D is participating in another blogger's book challenge for 2008. I considered joining it, especially since I own some books by the authors in the category around which the challenge revolves. But then I thought, "wait a second here. How many books do I have in my personal library that I haven't read yet, or that I've gotten half-way through only to be distracted by schoolwork, performances, cupcakes, newspapers, a movie, a butterfly, or sleep?" I have plenty in that category.
Heck, I discovered one on the bottom shelf of my nightstand just the other day. I'd gotten about a third into it last year, when school started up and my nights were sacrificed to the thesis god. I just returned a book to the library yesterday that I took a break from to read another book. Had that book not been a library book - and not been about a health issue that I'm dealing with and trying to manage - there's a good possibility that that book would've migrated to the bottom shelf as well. I'm looking at a book right now that I just scored off of BookMooch.com. It's a follow up to a book I began 4 years ago on MLK weekend. I got a few chapters into it and school began, and the rest is history. Plus, it didn't help that I took it with me on vacation. It's hard for me to read on vacation, particularly if I'm visiting someplace new. And starting a book on vacation is almost a guarantee I won't finish it. I'd rather spend time with my family and friends or discovering the newness of the place. So, maybe I should go back to the original book and read it first? Hmm?
My reading challenge for 2008, then: read at least 10 books in my own library which I have not read at all, or which were sacrificed to some other distraction, earlier. ** Side note: I've often wondered if that's a character or intelligence flaw that I have, that I don't always finish books that I begin. Remember in grade school how educators and authority figures always kind of poo-poo people who don't finish what they start? But maybe that's as much an indictment of the writing. If the story itself, or storytelling, is not engaging enough for me to ignore the family or friends I'm visiting, or the sound of the surf, or the DVD special edition of The Big Lebowski that just came in the mail, then maybe that's not my fault. (Of course, I almost always finish what I start; it might just take me months or years to get interested in the activity enough again to complete it. Clearly, I'm not the industrious personality that built America.)
Another thing I'm trying to do for 2008 is be grateful. I think I become crabbier the older I get and the last thing I ever want to be is a grump or a curmudgeon. I want to be aware of my blessings, big and little.
Saturday, I was hefting a big box toward the post office to mail out. As I approached the pull-out door, a woman who was walking my direction, pulled open the door for me. I thanked her. She began to go inside, and I pushed open the push-indoor with my hip. "Oh, okay, you've got it," she said and smiled as she walked away. She wanted to help me all the way in to the post office, even though that's not where she was going. When I realized that, I couldn't help but smile and feel blessed. She was going out of her way to help me, a stranger! It's a little thing, but in an area where so few people thank you for holding open the door - and I am crabby about it - it stands out.
Last night, as I was lying in bed, falling asleep, I was listening to Honey breathing deeply. He's the kind who can fall asleep when his head hits the pillow. (Me: I always have a million thoughts competing for attention in my waning waking moments.) All I could think was how grateful I was for his health. I listened to him breathe in and I thanked God for his healthy lungs, for their ability to intake and process. Then I started praying thanks to God that he is healthy, that he is healthy now, that I have him now, that he has his health now. And it began to grow. I began to pray thanks for the health of others and for myself and for the time we all have here and all have together.
A good family friend of ours - her parents and mine are college buddies - lost her husband to a car wreck a couple of months ago, leaving her with a two-year-old. Since I learned of her loss a few weeks ago, I've been unable to feel anything but just sorrow for her. I can't even begin to imagine her grief right now. But last night, I was also thinking that she was very lucky to have had him when she did. I imagined the laughter they shared. This is not to minimize her grief and her loss, but I also thanked God for the time that she had with him, and of course, asked him to comfort her. That's probably what was the impetus for my impromptu thankfulness: death. A freelancer in my office yesterday learned that good friend of hers just lost a baby, a few hours after she gave brith. Again: unimaginable grief. How thankful I am that I have the people in my life and how they are in my life, for however long they are here!
We have to be thankful for what we have, when we have it; and for who is in our lives and how they are in our lives. I was thankful for Honey, in his current health, lying beside me. I will be thankful for him when he's ailing or decrepit. I will be thankful for him when he's gone. I thanked God for my current health, jagged as it is these days. I want to learn to be thankful if the jaggedness ever actually calcifies into something that affects my permanent health. I am who I am and I have what I have. I may as well be grateful.
Heck, I discovered one on the bottom shelf of my nightstand just the other day. I'd gotten about a third into it last year, when school started up and my nights were sacrificed to the thesis god. I just returned a book to the library yesterday that I took a break from to read another book. Had that book not been a library book - and not been about a health issue that I'm dealing with and trying to manage - there's a good possibility that that book would've migrated to the bottom shelf as well. I'm looking at a book right now that I just scored off of BookMooch.com. It's a follow up to a book I began 4 years ago on MLK weekend. I got a few chapters into it and school began, and the rest is history. Plus, it didn't help that I took it with me on vacation. It's hard for me to read on vacation, particularly if I'm visiting someplace new. And starting a book on vacation is almost a guarantee I won't finish it. I'd rather spend time with my family and friends or discovering the newness of the place. So, maybe I should go back to the original book and read it first? Hmm?
My reading challenge for 2008, then: read at least 10 books in my own library which I have not read at all, or which were sacrificed to some other distraction, earlier. ** Side note: I've often wondered if that's a character or intelligence flaw that I have, that I don't always finish books that I begin. Remember in grade school how educators and authority figures always kind of poo-poo people who don't finish what they start? But maybe that's as much an indictment of the writing. If the story itself, or storytelling, is not engaging enough for me to ignore the family or friends I'm visiting, or the sound of the surf, or the DVD special edition of The Big Lebowski that just came in the mail, then maybe that's not my fault. (Of course, I almost always finish what I start; it might just take me months or years to get interested in the activity enough again to complete it. Clearly, I'm not the industrious personality that built America.)
Another thing I'm trying to do for 2008 is be grateful. I think I become crabbier the older I get and the last thing I ever want to be is a grump or a curmudgeon. I want to be aware of my blessings, big and little.
Saturday, I was hefting a big box toward the post office to mail out. As I approached the pull-out door, a woman who was walking my direction, pulled open the door for me. I thanked her. She began to go inside, and I pushed open the push-indoor with my hip. "Oh, okay, you've got it," she said and smiled as she walked away. She wanted to help me all the way in to the post office, even though that's not where she was going. When I realized that, I couldn't help but smile and feel blessed. She was going out of her way to help me, a stranger! It's a little thing, but in an area where so few people thank you for holding open the door - and I am crabby about it - it stands out.
Last night, as I was lying in bed, falling asleep, I was listening to Honey breathing deeply. He's the kind who can fall asleep when his head hits the pillow. (Me: I always have a million thoughts competing for attention in my waning waking moments.) All I could think was how grateful I was for his health. I listened to him breathe in and I thanked God for his healthy lungs, for their ability to intake and process. Then I started praying thanks to God that he is healthy, that he is healthy now, that I have him now, that he has his health now. And it began to grow. I began to pray thanks for the health of others and for myself and for the time we all have here and all have together.
A good family friend of ours - her parents and mine are college buddies - lost her husband to a car wreck a couple of months ago, leaving her with a two-year-old. Since I learned of her loss a few weeks ago, I've been unable to feel anything but just sorrow for her. I can't even begin to imagine her grief right now. But last night, I was also thinking that she was very lucky to have had him when she did. I imagined the laughter they shared. This is not to minimize her grief and her loss, but I also thanked God for the time that she had with him, and of course, asked him to comfort her. That's probably what was the impetus for my impromptu thankfulness: death. A freelancer in my office yesterday learned that good friend of hers just lost a baby, a few hours after she gave brith. Again: unimaginable grief. How thankful I am that I have the people in my life and how they are in my life, for however long they are here!
We have to be thankful for what we have, when we have it; and for who is in our lives and how they are in our lives. I was thankful for Honey, in his current health, lying beside me. I will be thankful for him when he's ailing or decrepit. I will be thankful for him when he's gone. I thanked God for my current health, jagged as it is these days. I want to learn to be thankful if the jaggedness ever actually calcifies into something that affects my permanent health. I am who I am and I have what I have. I may as well be grateful.
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