Summerland

"A baseball game is nothing but a great slow contraption for getting you to pay attention to the cadence of a summer day.” Summerland by Michael Chabon

I’m afraid of summer. It’s true. To me hot weather means sleepless sticky nights listening to the roar of fans and oppressive days trying to move as little as possible and eating only cold food. While other people lament that it’s cold and rainy in June, I am thrilled and wish it could last through August. When I see 90’s in the upcoming forecast my heart turns, ironically, cold with dread.

In my experience, people who long for hot weather also have air-conditioning. And until now I have never had air-conditioning. Or, more accurately, never Used air-conditioning. Even in the parsonages that had it my parents would never turn it on. Air conditioning (along with heat, restaurants nicer than McDonalds and more than two pairs of shoes) fell into the category of “profligate” in my parent’s vocabulary.

So it was with great trepidation that I moved to North Carolina just in time for one of the awful summers that Dan has been describing to me in horrifying detail ever since we first met. My worst fears were confirmed when we had ninety-degree heat in April just shortly after I drove into town.

Fortunately for me, May relented and the weather was so gorgeous that my fear of the upcoming months imprisoned by the heat actually drove me out to explore my new world and have the small adventures I have previously documented before it was too late. Fear is a great motivator.

Now at the end of June, however, the heat is here to stay. (Although Dan is quick to remind me that it is still getting cooler at night so there is much worse to come.)

Indeed, after a sweltering trudge home from the gym Thursday afternoon, I wasn’t sure that I was up for an outdoor summery activity that evening. But Dan had already purchased tickets for the two of us and his dad to go to my first ever Durham Bulls baseball game and I wasn’t about to miss dollar hot dog night! (Hot dogs are also great motivators.) Both the team and the movie are a big deal down here and the old Durham Athletic Park, at which Bull Durham was filmed, is very close to our house and familiar to me. This was going to be my first time to the new Durham Athletic Park however and it turned out to be a very nice facility indeed.

By the time we got to the “DAP” the sun was already on it’s way down and I found it quite pleasant actually to sit there, watching the light in the sky fade into the romantic glow of the stadium lights. The team came out and warmed up and the grounds crew sprayed and raked in a most professional manner. The fans trickled in as the game got under way. All the while the temperature slowly dropped to around 82 degrees and there was a lovely breeze.

Our team was completely pathetic. The first conference on the mound was after the second pitch and we Almost had a grand slam in the first inning, which turned out to be very disappointing long pop fly and third out instead. After that things only got worse. Our starting pitcher was terrible and they didn’t take him out until the middle of the fourth. By that time he had already given up 9 runs and Rochester topped that off to an even dozen before the game was over. We answered with a resounding zero runs.

Still… I enjoyed it. In the midst of the hubbub of the restless crowd and the silly promotional games and announcements there was something so peaceful about sitting outside on a lovely summer evening, watching the slow, slow pace of the game, seeing every deliberate action of the players and officials, listening to the lilting song of the lemonade and snow cone and cotton candy vendors. I felt myself outside of it all observing and at the same time an active participant in the sprawling organism of the game. And my fearful heart began to thaw a bit.

It will be a long process I’m sure… but I think I might be beginning to make my peace with summer.

Have I mentioned that I have air-conditioning?

Glory Days

All I thought this morning held in store for me was a haircut. I didn’t know that I was going to become a famous voice for truth and justice in the Durham area…

Strolling through downtown Durham with no higher aspirations than not being too late for my hair appointment, destiny ambushed me in the form of a news team looking for sound bites about the infamous District Attorney of Durham County, Mike Nifong. Nifong was recently disbarred due to misconduct in the even more infamous Duke Lacrosse Players Case. Apparently there is speculation that he is holding out his resignation until after a pay increase would go into effect on July 1st. Fortunately for ignorant me the friendly news crew explained it all to me so that I could share my articulate and spur of the moment pithy opinion with them on film.

Somewhat pleased with my actions as an heroic voice of the people, I jauntily continued to the salon where I was able to see myself in a mirror and notice for the first time that my T-shirt was still wet from where I goobered on myself that morning and tried to wash it off. Not only that but I became painfully aware that I had not put on any makeup as I was going to the gym next. The final lovely touch was that I hadn’t even really brushed my hair, just thrown on an ugly green headband since I was on my way to get a haircut. The headband had shifted as I walked and a big bunch of hair was sticking straight out of it on the top of my head looking ludicrous.

Horrified, I scanned the evening news and was relieved to find that I was cut in favor of murder and mayhem. I have never been so thankful for a little murder and mayhem! And then I realized I should check the website… Oh dear...

http://abclocal.go.com/wtvd/front

Under "Video On Demand" click on the “Nifong’s Pension” video clip. Fortunately for me and my destiny I have no idea how long this clip will be up… Tomorrow I should be old news.

Soooo Big!

This is something that my dear friend Tina now says, in her best "new mom voice," to indicate that I might possibly be making a new step toward adulthood: “Hey Tina, I think we might be buying a house!" "Oooo, Soooo big!” It’s cute coming from her. It would earn Dan or my brother a hearty smack.

There have been many steps towards adulthood recently it feels like. Calls to mortgage lenders and frank and useful discussions about our financial situation, then recovering from the disappointment of figuring out that we just can’t feel comfortable buying a house right now—even a newly remodeled house in a great neighborhood and in our price range with all new appliances and a walk in closet bigger than my last apartment!!!

Just today I have chalked up a few more tentative baby steps on the road to independent adulthood. This morning we retrieved a newly re-timing belted and tuned up Samwise from the shop. Taking the car in for preventative maintenance, like voluntarily taking myself to the dentist or asking the doctor for a booster shot, always feels very grown up. (I Hate taking cars in to the shop. Even when the mechanics are really nice and it ends up costing less than half the quote because they decide not to do some work that they think might be unnecessary!)

And yesterday I changed Glorfindel's tail light (almost) all by myself!

Today I had the BTI contract notarized and sent it off so I should be officially on my way to school in the fall. I’ve also begun studying anatomy to give myself a leg up and can name a goodly number of the bones and processes and foramen and sutures in the skull already! Now I just have to figure out what they do…

Finally, we also got our new futon cover. In a fit of homemaking fervor I dug out, and figured out how to hang, my piece of stained glass to accompany it. Tada!

After all of that I Do feel a bit like a toddler wobbling back to Mom with some treasure outstretched, some feat accomplished.

“Oooo, Sooo big!”

Gains and Losses

Two weeks into my diet. Didn’t eat any flex points at All last week. Eating my weight in vegetables every day. Weighed in up for the second day in a row. I now weigh more than I did last Tuesday. Stupid body.

Saw a great house today that Dan and I really thought we might be able to afford. Came home. Thought about it. Called friends. We can’t afford it… Stupid fiscal responsibility.

Nothing ventured. Something gained.

A Little Praise for my Sweetie

I innocently commented to Dan this morning about how touchingly a friend referred to her hubby in her blog and for this I received a most pointed look…

It’s true that I have sorely neglected the subject of “Dan’s Awesomeness.” But it’s not because I was trying to avoid it! It’s just that I don’t know where to start. What anecdote about our life together would best capture how wonderfully funny, supportive and understanding he is?

Is it that he cooks me the most marvelous meals and always makes sure there are leftovers in the fridge for me if he is going to be gone?

Or the fact that he is taking my counting of points seriously and hasn’t made so much as a hint of a joke about the embarrassingly large selection of low fat/low carb/no sugar added ice cream bars in the freezer (I highly recommend Breyer’s over Eddy’s by the way.)

Or the cute way he teases me over silly things to make me laugh but never over serious things that might be hurtful.

How about how he brought me to tears laughing at the desperate little character voice he made up to try to convince me to buy the futon cover he really liked.

His world champion snuggling technique?

Then there’s his willingness to rescue me from the roaches on a regular basis and even taking two slugs out of the shower the other day without me so much as asking!

How he didn’t ridicule me when I asked if we could name the Camry and even came up the name Glorfindel all by himself.

Or how he calmly scooped me up out of my despair when a complete reorganization of my desk and search of the house did not unearth my brand new social security card (required for getting my driver’s license) and took me to the social security administration office where he waited with me to apply for a new, brand new social security card.

And just tonight he watched an episode of Veggie Tales with me just because he knows I like it…

I don’t know where to start. Or maybe I really don’t know where to end... Because there is no end to the constantly thoughtful, charming and hilarious things that Dan does every day to remind me just how lucky I am.

I love you Baby.

Happy B-Day Mom!

I feel that I must point out that today is my Mom's B-Day. I won't say which one because that would be Rude but it is a big one... And I'm almost 34...

Anyway, just want to say Thanks for Everything Mom! And Happy B-Day! And to give her a shameless plug as she works very hard and gets very little recognition. Check her out at: http://www.bethgalbreath.com/

Futon Covers and Other Symptoms of Domestic Bliss

Joyfully anticipating the delivery of a Brand New Futon Cover to replace the current fish sheet covering the even worse looking old futon cover.

Cozily sitting at my desk listening to Dan play Final Fantasy XII in the other room and to the thunder and rain outside.

Excitedly surveying my newly cleaned desk.

Satisfyingly glowing with the knowledge that I just got a new driver’s license with a decent picture and a perfect score on the written test.

Contentedly snuggling on the couch after eating and cleaning up Dan’s yummy dinner.

Relievedly watering our herb garden after finally getting some plants to survive our fumbling ministrations!

Proudly showing off my newly raked lawn and a much better looking compost pile.

Efficiently surprising Dan with a completely reorganized utility room.

Cleverly creating room for a new mosaics workstation.

Happily examining our freshly cleaned and mopped kitchen and bathroom.

Virtuously watching the rainwater bead up on the newly washed and waxed Samwise.

Profligately taking a nap on the futon in the afternoon…

I’ve been busy. I deserved it.

New Phone Number!

Hey all, just an announcement that I have a new phone number. If you need it, shoot me an e-mail and I'll send it to you. Be sure to program it into your phones because I will never remember it myself... I miss my old, easy to remember number already! Pout.

To Do Lists

I’m so sick of To Do Lists…

Well… That’s not really true. I actually like To Do Lists made up of things along the lines of: “Laundry,” “Groceries,” “Mom’s birthday card,” “Shower,” “New Blog Entry.” Manageable tasks that can be readily achieved and triumphantly stricken help me to feel that I am a productive member of society. But I'm really not partial to lists full of things like: “Chose a mover,” “Pack all your worldly possessions,” “Tell your boss you are leaving,” “Say good bye to your friends.”

From the very moment I decided there was a possibility I might move I have been living off of a series of ever growing and expanding To Do Lists. I put all sorts of nasty things on them and I aggressively tackled each and every uncomfortable task. I figured the more quickly I was able to cross things off my list the better as there would be much more to do coming up. Unfortunately… I am always right. (Staunchly ignore derisive snort of laughter from Dan.)

After months of these taxing chores, and less than a week away from the arrival of the movers, my parents and I were painting my lovely colorful apartment back to its original sad antique white state. I was commenting on how even with the move finally behind me I would still have to unpack and find a job and get a driver’s license and register the cars and get insurance… “It just never ends!” I exclaimed to my Dad in frustration. “Yeah.” Was all he said… But there was a definite hint of “duh!” in there and just a tang of “What do you expect?!” Sigh. He too is always right. The work never ends.

But blaming the To Do List for the work is sort of like blaming the messenger for the bad news. It is actually Thanks to those nerve-wracking lists that I made it through the move at all. Nothing motivates one like panic and nothing panics one like seeing in one fell swoop all the unpleasant things you have to do in the next few months.

So, rather than be resentful, if I am dissatisfied with Still having To Do Lists I should consider the nature of the lists that I myself am making. They are full of difficult things to do. If I just left those things Off the lists, life would be so much better. Right? To Do Lists don’t hurt people, people with to do lists hurt people… or something like that. For instance, the list currently on my desk includes the following:

Clean Gutters
Wash and wax Samwise and Glorfindel (Yes, we name our cars after Tolkien characters in my family…)
Wills etc.
Take pictures for insurance
Study for Drivers License Test
Get Drivers License
Register Samwise and Glorfindel

Is it any wonder that I am not excited about battling the North Carolina Department of Transportation not once but Three times, or musing upon the possibility of Dan’s untimely death, or documenting all of my worldly goods in case of their theft or destruction by fire? Was there ever a more morbid list? (Not to mention the unspoken but omnipresent To Do’s of “GET A JOB!” and the equally distasteful “Lose Weight!”)

Perhaps I just need to reclaim the power of the To Do List for the forces of good. I believe I shall write a new one:

Play your computer game (Currently enjoying Dreamfall, sequel to The Longest Journey)
Read a book
Eat some ice cream
Go for a nice evening walk
Get a Haircut
Get a Massage!
Buy Yourself New Clothes!
Go to Hawaii!!
Buy a New Car!!!

Oooo these are Good. I feel better already! Now let's see, what do I have to do before I... Oh rats… we are right back to Get a Job, Lose Weight and Battle with the DOT again. Sigh.

The Beach House Phenomenon

There is something so odd about visiting a beach house, someone else’s beach house in particular. Not a rental but some else’s private and personal beach house…

Over the Memorial Day weekend Dan and I and Dan’s mother and father and their respective significant others all converged on Dan’s older brother’s beach house. Now let me be clear that it is a very kind and generous thing that Dan’s brother John and his wife Nancy allow us to stay at their very lovely beach house. I do not mean to disparage their home in any way. I just can’t help but comment on some of the oddities of the beach house experience in general… as exemplified by our time in their house.

For instance, Dan and I were the first ones to arrive this season and we spent a couple of hours cleaning the bathrooms, wiping mildew off of the walls, picking dead roaches up off the floor and chasing the live ones from their hidey holes. The lights didn’t work in much of the living room and kitchen area. Some questionable things were discovered in the fridge. And there was a pervasive clammy, mildewy feel to everything that took quite a while to dispel. I mean, here we were in a house Much nicer and more expensive than anything we will probably ever own and I had a strong desire not to touch anything because it was “icky.”

There’s also the fact that you are plopped right down in someone else’s home—cooking, cleaning, using things—and trying to make it looks as if you were never there! You want to follow the hosts’ rules but you never know when you might be crossing some invisible line you do not mean to cross. This makes you feel a bit like you are holding your breath the whole time. “I scrubbed the black, burned on stuff off of this pan… Maybe they Liked the burned on black stuff?!” “I think there was a towel hanging over that chair when we got here but we’ve washed all the towels. Does anyone remember which towel?!”

And then there’s the décor. Beach house décor is nothing like regular house décor. A certain amount of kitsch is expected even of the really expensive houses (and don’t kid yourself, they are All really expensive down here.) For instance, this manatee mailbox outside the giant Pink house (and a slew of very expensive cars including the mandatory Hummer) is directly across from a field that seems to be home to no one but King Manatee. A $500,000 lot to house their giant fiberglass manatee in a cape? That’s hard to top.










John and Nancy’s home is quite tame in contrast, decorated in classic beach house style complete with shells and stuffed fish and hurricane lamps and expensively distressed wood and nautically themed art. There’s the mandatory and very popular deck out back with a view of the sound and their very own little dock.







And there’s also this little guy. I suppose he is meant to scare away evil spirits? I think he’s cute but some people apparently think that makes my taste quite suspect… which probably means I could make a fortune in the beach house decorating business!

After all, it’s actually vital to the vacation experience that beach houses are a bit quirky. If they were just like home, what fun would that be?