The Fair

Every year on Labor Day weekend, the county fair comes to my hometown. When I was a kid, it was a sign that school was about to begin, so it was time to pack as much fun into the last fleeting moments of summer as possible. I looked forward to stuffing myself silly with fried cheese curds and chocolate malts, watching horse races with my grandpa and dad, and trying to win amazing prizes by popping balloons or throwing ping-pong balls into cups in the midway.

 

As I've grown older the fair has seemed to grow smaller, grittier and more expensive. But, I think it was most likely always the same, and that my childhood rose-colored glasses have just turned a slightly different shade. It is still fun to experience the wonder of it all through the eyes of younger generations, and I always get a heart-warming kick out of looking through the barns and small-town food and crafts exhibits:

 

Walk With Me

This afternoon I finished the second book of a sci-fi trilogy that includes a theme of the natural world demanding for humans to remember our interconnectedness and interdependency. It compelled me to take a long walk in the rugged wilderness (the farm). Here are some pictures from my journey. Hehe!

My road- I still have scars on my knee from my elementary school bike wipe-out right about here.

Queen Anne's Lace- my mom used to tell us Queen Anne pricked her finger while knitting, hence the little red/purple spot in the middle.

Cattails- pretty in the sunshine.

Oak- my favorite stoics.

 

Shell fossil in the old limestone quarry- this used to be an ocean!!!

Horses- they came running down the hill then splashed across the creek to say hello.

Surprise under a rock when I was fossil hunting.

The farm

 

My favorite old vines in the forest.



Pretty feather to finish my journey.

Swayback

When I was in elementary school, a teacher once called me away from the friends I rambunctiously played with at recess, disapprovingly smirked, and told me I had a "swayback." She put one hand on my belly and one on my lower back, pushed in opposite directions, and said I had to be more aware of my posture. I was crushed, although in retrospect I wonder if something else compelled this person to force her hurtful, non-professional opinion on a child. It was an embarrassing and confusing early experience that along with others would catapult me into adulthood with a multitude of body and confidence issues.

This afternoon I treated myself to a massage, and in my intro to the therapist, heard myself say that I had a swayback and had broken my neck as a kid so I naturally carried a lot of tension in certain areas. Then I thought ... wait a second ... what is the statute of limitations on these 30-year-old, fleeting (if horribly traumatic) events? Was I seriously allowing them to continue to define me? Could that inappropriate teacher and that horrible accident still be affecting me physically and mentally to this day?

The massage was amazing, and I do not tell this tale to gain sympathy. But, I do implore you to think about the incredible impact your words and actions can have on the sponge-like minds of children and adults alike, and to stop and think about the origin and actual vs. fictional benefit that any critical words may have on you and the other.

In the meantime, I am going to attempt to rock this bootylicious "swayback" and much like Jennifer Connelly in Labyrinth, peer through the years and frankly tell those childhood traumas "you have no power over me" until they get the picture. :)

From the Mouths of Babes

Tonight I asked my daughter (who is about to enter first grade) what she thought was crazy about the world. She giggled and said "like, when a bunny is sitting right next to a carrot, but he doesn't take the carrot, and just runs into the forest instead!"

Whoa. Deep.

Gum Trees

 

Another lovely rediscovery on my trip to California was the scent and beauty of the Eucalyptus groves. I had the pleasure of staying right next to one, and got to explore on a couple of occasions. I learned that Eucalyptus are referred to as gum trees, are the source of turpenoids that create their unique sweet scent and antibacterial qualities, and are a natural insect repellent and antiseptic.

They were apparently introduced during the Gold Rush by Australian immigrants who hoped to use them for railroad ties, furniture etc., but the young trees of their new home reacted differently from the centuries old ones of their old home when harvested (twisting and becoming rock hard), so they ended up being used as wind breaks instead.

My 6 year old was just as intrigued as I when looking at these photos, by the beautiful colors of the peeling bark, which in person seemed to change color completely with the shifting light, almost like a living painting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Old Times

 

I recently came across this photograph of my paternal grandparents (I believe in Northern Wisconsin in the 1930's). It's one of my favorites- another that I will have to dig up is an early picture of them on the farm that involves my grandma hooking my grandpa around the waist with a cane.

 

These two were a major influence in my upbringing and I miss them every day. My grandpa was a local legend with a sharp wit, who taught me long-hand arithmetic, made me memorize all the native species of birds and trees, and got me interested in Latin. My grandma was one of my best friends. I loved hearing all her stories about growing up in the 20's, and sampling all the goodies she'd bake for us while we were at school (like chocolate raisin cookies or yellow cake with chocolate frosting in an old tin cake pan). I could fill volumes with all the wonderful things they taught me.

 

I thought it was funny that I came across this at the time I was writing about the calming effects of watching water- it must run in the family!



 

 



Watching Water

I missed posting for a few days because I got swept up in a glorious whirlwind weekend visit to my old stomping grounds in Southern California. It was incredible to let the serenity of the surroundings fill my soul and push out all the tension of the last few weeks.

One of my favorite moments was reuniting with the ocean, a companion I used to frolic and share troubles with as much as possible. Sitting there with a treasured old friend and seeing the blue-gray waters again, hearing the repetitions of the breathing tide, smelling the salt air and feeling the clamminess return to my skin from the sea water, I was very much overcome with relief and gratitude.

It's amazing how something so simple can unravel the complexity that our daily goings-on can cause to build up over time. What a blessing.

The Power of Love

Love is admittedly the thing I care most about in the world-- giving my love, being loved (the right way), seeing others love one another...it's the thing I've strived for (knowingly and unknowingly), more than anything else, many times to a fault.

I reckon that conservation of angular momentum is the actual reason the world is turning, but I do think that love has an affect on our own rotations-- getting through our days, years, lives (ok, I guess that could arguably be more of a linear movement) without support, affection, recognition, empathy and respect would be a supremely difficult task. And although I far too often trick myself into feeling isolated and unloved, remembering the truth of how many people I actually have out there (family members, friends, co-workers) who are giving me love everyday, is important-- somehow it can help lift the burden that getting through those rotations once in awhile presents me with.

So, remember to share your love freely without occasion, and to stop and count the blessings of all those who love you. You are not alone.

Hotter Than A Two Dollar Pistol

Texas adventures continued today with a visit to the Fort Worth Stockyards. Our conference center has been so hyper-air-conditioned that the outdoor Texas temps have been a little shocking to the system. However, the giddiness I experienced seeing the below array of gloriousness made it worth the heat. $2 Lone Stars and the greasiest cheeseburger ever and I'm ready for sweet dreams under the Texan big/bright stars.

 

The Big D

This week I'm at a ticket software conference in Dallas, TX. I don't believe I have ever been here, and although I've been aware of how wonderful Dallas Children's Theater is, Dallas isn't a place I know much about or have had much of a desire to visit.

So, I was pleasantly surprised when this evening we went to the beautiful Dallas Arts District and got to see three amazing performance venues:

1. The Wyly at Dallas Theater Center, a 100' x 100' completely customizable theater space with removable seats and elevate-able boxes:

 

2. Winspear Opera House, home of the Dallas Opera

 

 

 

 

3. Morton H. Meyerson Symphony Center, where we were treated to a stellar organ recital of a Verdi work on a 4,535 pipe C.B. Fisk Opus 100 organ. 

 

Quite a cool place actually! 

 

 

  

SkyMall

 

This morning I took my 16th flight of the year (and I think I might be forgetting one or two). I had become terrified of flying at one point right after I had my girls- I don't know if it was about having so much more to lose if something went wrong, or just post-partum depression. In any case, I've pretty much gotten over that due to frequency.

 

I've enjoyed some of the characters I've met on-board as well as the gorgeous sky-scapes I've taken in from on high. However, I'm always happy to have SkyMall magazine to entertain me with must-have oddities, such as the 14-shelf sarcophagus below:

 

Here It Comes

Few things can cure me of weekend evening loneliness like cruising on a Saturday night and listening to Little Steven's Underground Garage. 

 

The radio show always makes me feel like I've jumped into a time machine and travelled back to my dad's high school and college days when weekend evenings (or most evenings in general) were spent cruising the main streets in cars with wings and chrome, listening to music and playing it cool a la American Graffiti.

 

Tonight I had to drive to the city in order to stay near the airport where I catch a flight to TX at 6am. Little Steven kept me company on my drive with Turn Up The Radio! Rock, Pop and Roll in Los Angeles 1956-1972

 

There's something about listening to a cool cat with a smooth voice telling stories and playing a great mix of classic songs that just turns me all Rebel Without A Cause. I definitely slowed down and looked into the window of one of my favorite watering holes, The Weary Traveler, just to see what was shakin'. But I kept driving, because, you know, that's just how I roll. 

 

Greener Pastures

Although the short-list of tasks I'm managing at work looks something like this ...

 

... I am comforted by the fact that I live in an environment that looks like this ...

 

As late summer crops are beginning to be harvested, the fields seem more beautiful than ever, bright shades of green that beg to be rolled in, periodically painted by strips of rich brown where tractors have cut and plowed. Bright wildflowers adorn the roadsides- chicory, tiger lily, Queen Anne's lace, black-eyed Susan and all shades of blue-green prairie grasses. So beautiful!

 

 

 

 

 

The Haircut

Over the years, my six-year-old has hinted that she might like her routine hair trim to turn into a major chop. Giggling and nerves ensue until the last second, when panic sets in and she calls it off. So, I was very surprised a few nights ago when she didn't chicken out, after of years of chickening.

I know that it has often taken the introduction of an idea that I can mull over (sometimes for years) until it turns into my own idea and I can accept it without fear, to get me to take action. Don't get me wrong- there are plenty of things I should have thought much more about. But, how lovely when the results of deciding to go for it end up making us happy, and in the end if they don't, most of the time the worst-case-scenario is that we just end up where we were eventually (short hair will always grow back).

Flower Girl

 

An occasional perk of working for an arts center that is rented out for conferences, performances and other functions is that our office sometimes receives unexpected leftovers to share, such as the beautiful wedding ceremony hydrangeas below. I'm hoping these flowers are somehow infused with the energy of excitement, new beginnings, hope and love involved in the fleeting exchange they were just a part of. I doubt that the blushing bride realizes that her wedding flowers are still alive and well throughout our building, participating in all sorts of interesting activies-- listening in on marketing calls about Smokey Joe's Café and Evil Dead the Musical to name just two.

 

Kissin' Time

I've been amused over the last few years by how many companies have resurrected the brands my generation loved when we were growing up, in order to tug at our heart and purse-strings and get us to purchase similar items for our own children.

My Little Pony, GI-Joe, Strawberry Shortcake, Marvel, Transformers, Smurfs, TMNT...all have made a big comeback in the last 5 years. My daughter has been enamored with Hello Kitty (another popular brand of old), so we looked online the other day to find a rainbow Hello Kitty backpack to go with a lunchbox she found at a store, and came across this double-whammy:

Haha!

Taking the Plunge

Growing up, my brother and I were two of the first kids in town to race to the city pool when it opened at the beginning of summer. When the temperatures dipped low, the fully clothed lifeguard would humor the two of us for 30 minutes or so as we splashed in icy chlorinated bliss, then blow the whistle and yell "all out!"

There is a beautiful lake surrounded by pine and maple forest at the nearby state park, and I also loved to swim its width from the beach to the boulders on the other side, where a rope swing hung from a birch tree. My mom didn't like me swimming across the entire lake, but I would sneak out as far as possible then pretend that I couldn't hear her calling. The water smelled fishy and woodsy, and sometimes had algae that looked like snot floating around the edges.

When I moved to Santa Barbara in my 20's (where I coincidentally had almost grown up), I adored swimming in the ocean- tasting the briny salt water and feeling the seaweed and sand on my toes, body-surfing in the massive waves and surrendering myself to their power. One day my friend Jeremy and I ventured way out beyond the waves into the calm water. He showed me how to float with my ears just under the surface, so we could listen to the dolphins call to each other down below. It was so peaceful and haunting. After ocean swimming my skin would feel clammy and my hair tangled like a mermaid. It was heavenly.

I think the appeal of swimming for me is the weightlessness and momentary escape from the human world- to dive down and use up an entire breath as I glide through cool water, and hear nothing but the blood pumping in my ears, or the buzz or hum of the dim sounds from above or below...sanctuary.