The Skinny Around Here:

I am roughly 5 issues of The New Yorker behind.  I've always wanted to say that.

The offspring is going COO-COO for blueberries. 

Joel has been sick with a stomach bug for almost six days now.  He's broken.

I feel like I have forgotten how to use my camera.

The evenings are divine, with Cherry Garcia FroYo and the latest, lingering light.

I have a slight tan for the first time in 10 years. 

Camping exists to expose all of my character weaknesses. 

I have actually been swimming this summer.  This is tragically uncharacteristic. I will return to a lake yearly from now on.  (I spent weeks of my childhood summers camping on Lake Mead then on The Colorado River). Joel and I went baby-free camping for 3 whole days at Sun Lakes. It was really hot, and I daresay I was only miserable 60% of the time.  See prior comment.

Joel spent his summers travelling from Maple Valley, Washington, to Alliance, Nebraska.  I am determined to make the same trek one of these summers.

I am newly discouraged after many weeks of happiness.  Sadness mixing with self-pity mixing with restlessness. It's time for me to go back to work. I have a second interview this week for a Technical Writing position and I am fingers crossed all the way.  I'm really rather uncomfortable relying on my husband's income for such a long period of time.  An interesting article on that here.  Listen, I am married and I love being married.  Part of that means that we lean on each other, but financial times are different.  Even if nothing happens to our emotional relationship, if Joel were to suddenly die or lose his job, we would be royally effed.  I genuinely believe no capable adult should be 100% financially dependent on anyone else for an extended period of time, male or female.  Times, they are a'changin.

We have a new car.  Did I tell you?  We have been struggling to get Bowie in and out of our two-door VW Golf for over a year now.  I persisted in the search for a new car (what an overwhelming and defeating process) within our budget and finally found one on Craigslist.  It's a same year VW Passat with fewer miles, four doors, V6, leather seats, manual (a must!), sunroof, and in really great condition.  Although I feel like an over-privileged whitey driving it (and miss my zippy little Golf).

Phoenix d'Sangaré Gomes was born July 23rd at 5:17am.  By a random turn of events, I was able to be there for the birth and take photos.  Have you ever attended a live birth?  The moment the child emerges from all the toiling and planning and expectation, it's nearly the biggest relief and greatest joy I've ever experienced. I didn't even have those feelings at my own birth, as I was a bit tired and shocked.

I'm reading a lot of memoir, as I have been almost solely focused on writing creative nonfiction myself for the last six months.  Currently it is Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?(which is actually a bit slow and I'm forcing myself to finish) and a Cheryl Strayed recommended fiction The News from Spain which is lovely so far. Next is a local author, Brenda Miller's Blessing of the Animals.  I am proud to say that I've read almost exclusively women authors for over a year now.  I was severely out of balance in my male/female reading ratio.  It is much easier to find males to read, but one has to really know the business and search out females, which I am happy to do.  Now let's discuss this.  I hear you saying, "I read what is good! No matter the gender of the author." Well, congrats on that.  But have you examined how you know what is good? What are your influences?  What is your male/female ratio?  Why is this?  I tell you it is because men have been given more chance and privilege and opportunity to succeed for millions of years now.  I love males.  I love their pen.  But it's our turn, ladies. 

SUMMER IS FOR READING!!

Joel and I joined his parents this last weekend in Greenwater, Washington, located in the foothills of Mt. Rainier.  We did exactly a lot of nothing.  Well, Joel climbed two trees and threw several large sticks for our family dog, Abbey.  However, my particular kind of nothing meant reading, staring at the fire, taking naps, sunbathing, playing boggle, sipping various beverages, meandering pleasantries with the parents, and allowing that angst-y boredom to sit on my bones and soak deep into the soil of my soul.  It turns out that boredom, if indulged, can actually feel a lot like peace; however, the conversion requires intense mental discipline and I am practicing and practicing.  Just like anxiety and excitement.

(Sidenote: My therapist recently mention that anxiety and excitement feel the same in the body.   Apparently, I've been very excited for the last 10 years.  Sigh.  Anxiety in my being is as familiar to me as my husband is.  I see it, I breath through it, I recognize it, and yet it persists.  I'm beginning to get accustomed to its presence as a part of my DNA and consequently have stopped letting it have so much attention.)

Why do we fear boredom?  Why do we feel the compulsion to constantly fill the rooms of our houses with background noise?  Why are so many of our hobbies and activities escapist in nature?  I can't help but feel that we must be running from something - even from the nagging fear that maybe we are more shallow than we think...or that if we stop to examine the hard parts too much, they will take over and we will be sad.   How interesting it is to know a person by how they spend their leisure time.  I have no express point here, and certainly don't intend to sound judge-y, but I am reflecting on the goodness of boredom and how few people I know are genuinely adept at soulful-rest.  Everyone I know values hard work and is exhilarated by the "go-go-go" of daily life, but a tragic few feel equally motivated to rest (I am not talking about mindless rest such as sleep or various forms of entertainment and technologies - though of course they have their merit). I therefore fully believe weekends such as these are vastly more soul-satisfying than I realize.  Even within our marriage we have noticed that intentionally pursuing individual time to day-dream has been so good for us both.  I happen to have a lifestyle where planning that time is easier for me than for others, but as our pursuit of a family begins to birth itself in our brains, I want nothing more than to master this discipline BEFORE it becomes challenged by children.  Nothing like setting up ridiculous expectations for a family, right?  I am certain they will be dashed - and that my life will morph into something unrecognizable to me now, but I wouldn't be me if I didn't idealize on some regard.  Either way, I want to prioritize these mind-vacations.

To your dreams,
By day and by night.


A video of Joel at the treetop:


for larger and more photos:

Camping w Mom_Dad Greenwater

It was worse than I imagined it would be, and believe me, I imagined it unpleasant.  As any true Seattle-ite knows, weather forecasts are merely suggestions and often entirely erroneous.  I had hope that the reports of rain would be proven wrong - even from sheer will-power.  Not so.  As the rainy conditions persisted throughout the weekend, I continually had to adjust and readjust my attitude...and there was a plethora of attitude adjustments readily available in the ice chest.  After all, what's camping if not a royal pain in the ass?  You know what's missing from adult camping, a parent!  I need my mom there to have dinner ready and do all the work so I can just sit around and read by the fire.  I'm going to hire a mother to take next year.  Despite all the work and inconvenience of rain, there was one magical moment on Saturday where we saw the sun and wandered out to the beach to take it in.  In the end, the point of the trip was accomplished - to gorge ourselves on the outdoors, good food, ungodly amounts of cheap booze, and the beautiful and rare gift of wasting time with your best friends.