So it appears the hiatus from this blog is turning a little bit more permanent, at least for now. The truth is, I’m just not finding the impetus to write here. It feels too amorphous to me and I figure if it’s boring me to write it, it’s DEFINITELY boring you to read it.
However. I do miss the writing practice, only I figured I could use a little more help in terms of structure, focus and deadlines. So to tickle my own fancy, I’ve started a new blog here. I’m hoping I’ll use it to chronicle changes weekly leading up to — and perhaps beyond — my 40th birthday in November of this year. I have no idea if this little experiment will pan out or not, but I figured it’s worth a shot. I hope you’ll find it somewhat entertaining. And if you don’t, I hope you’ll let me know. No, really.
Also, on an administrative note, I’m trying to figure out a way to copy my commenter user registrations over to the new blog, but so far no success. If you’re driven to comment, you may need to re-register. Thanks!
February 5th, 2010
I think I’ve decided to take a hiatus from this blog. I know what you’re thinking: “How could we tell? You never post here anyway.” That’s sort of my point.
No, that’s precisely my point.
I started this blog four years ago when Chris and I first came to Ann Arbor. I’ve chronicled friends, family, travels, projects, photos and what seems like countless other things one encounters when discovering a new place and building a new life.
But lately? I just haven’t been feeling it. Writing here looms over me like an albatross. I feel all this pressure to come up with interesting stuff and it’s not forthcoming. Maybe it’s because I’m already suffering writer’s block while trying to take a stab at the second draft of this novel-wannabe I’m crafting. Maybe I don’t feel like the little writing energy I have is best spent here. Maybe I’ve just run out of things to say.
I believe a blog should be a couple of things: purposeful and regularly updated. I’m 0 for 2 on that count right now. I don’t think it should feel like a chore and it does. So I’m going to take a break for the next couple of months and reassess in January. I’m not sure how many of you are still out there reading but perhaps if you think of it, you’ll check back here then to see if I’ve reappeared. In the meantime, thanks to the friends and family who have “stopped by” here from time to time the past few years to see what’s up.
One of the projects I’m going to undertake in the next couple of months is — finally! — the rebuilding of the writing samples portion of my site. So look for that coming soon, too!
November 3rd, 2009
Oh, Margaret. Dear Margaret. How I’m thinking of you and the horrible poisons they’re pushing through your veins in order to stem an even bigger, horribler affliction. How little you ask for when you hint, very heavily, in your comments that only my blog postings can keep you in good health. What power I have. How important I am.
Thus, for you, this rambling posting, even when there isn’t much to tell. Except this: it’s fall. It’s FALL! My very favorite season. And not the fall it has been, with grey skies and rain for days and weeks and weeks. No, this has been the sunny fall I love, the kind where you slush around in piles of leaves on Sunday walks, everything tinged yellow and orange and red.
The kind where Orangey and I head out for what we know will be one of our last rides of the season. But we try not to talk about it, Orangey and I, pretending instead that there are endless days like this ahead of us. That we will always be able to comment at the spooky pumpkin on this doorstep or the peach-colored Maple leaves on that street. Sure, you could call it denial but Orangey and I, we’re calling it “living in the moment.” (more…)
October 21st, 2009
It’s fair to say that I haven’t been writing a lot lately — here or anywhere else — because I haven’t. I’m finding working on the second draft of my novel is moving at a glacial pace. I’m unsure of my footing and the ideas are coming slowly. I suppose I should take stock in the fact that it’s moving at all. In the meantime, I’ve been hunkering down on some reading, fairly tearing through a handful of books the last couple months. Figured a quick round-up of thoughts on those could pass for a blog posting, no? Enjoy!
A month or so ago, I breezed through Mary Roach’s “Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers.” I’d had it in the back of my mind to check it out for a while now. Yes, it’s exactly as it sounds — an exploration of what happens to bodies after we die. A graphic, often-gruesome explanation, ranging from the grave-diggers of centuries ago, to the human body parts used in auto safety testing to proposed new methods of disposing of human bodies.
I confess to having a gruesome streak in me. I watch more CSI and forensic television programs than is probably considered healthy. I once had a brief period where I devoured everything I could on serial killers and mass murders and lay awake at night absolutely terrified that Richard Ramirez, the freaky-looking satanic serial killer known as the Night Stalker, was coming to get me.
So maybe I’m the ideal reader for this book, although I think it also appeals to anyone who has a curiosity about how we, as a culture, value our vessels after life passes away. The real draw here is Roach’s writing. It takes a skilled scribe to make a subject like this not only riveting, but also laugh-out-loud funny at times. Her own squeamishness and reluctance sort of gives us permission to tag along for the ride and be thoroughly entertained as we go.
It’s definitely food for thought and, at times, food for worms. (Oh, yes, I did!)
Next up was Stewart O’Nan’s “Songs for the Missing.” Chris returned with it from a road trip, saying he saw it and thought I might enjoy it. Now, since I’m the sort of stubborn ass who decides not to see a great movie just because so many people have told me I SIMPLY MUST SEE IT, it’s not surprising that I was a little turned off by Chris’ certainty. I mean, what? Just because we’ve been together for a decade, he suddenly
knows so much about me?
I know. It’s a weird glitch I have. I’ll talk to my therapist about it. Maybe.
Anyhoo, you can see where this is headed, right? I read the book and I did really enjoy it. I have to sheepishly confess that I’d never read any of O’Nan’s previous books. In fact, I’d never even heard of him, but he has a number of titles to his name and, quite frankly, as someone struggling to finish one book, I think anyone who has finished more than one should somehow automatically become a household name.
“Songs for the Missing” is the story of a family coping in the aftermath of the disappearance of their eldest daughter Kim, a high-school senior. It’s not quite “Lovely Bones” territory, as there’s no narration from beyond the grave, but there’s a spareness, a sadness that reminded me of Alice Sebold’s work. I’m not sure it’s a book that will change your life, but there’s a compelling, harrowing sense to the prose that I found really seductive.
Make no mistake: this isn’t a detective tale or your typical mystery. It’s more of a character study of the people left behind — Kim’s parents, her sister, her friends — and the ways they cope with her disappearance. I read some reviewers’ complaints that not enough happens, and while that may be true for some readers, it was enough for me to walk their path for a while. Just don’t tell Chris I liked it. (more…)
October 8th, 2009
Yesterday, my friend Margaret posted a comment requesting more updates on the bike riding and, yes, that’s enough to propel me into action. People undergoing chemo can be so demanding!
The first piece of news is that Daisy is no more. No, don’t panic! Not the bike. Just the name. I don’t know how it happened. Maybe it’ll still say Daisy on her birth certificate, but Chris kept referring to her as “Orangey” and another friend or two asked about “Orangey” and I realized that somehow it just seemed more…fitting. Maybe because she’s all orange and whatnot. I’m very scientific like that.
The second piece of news is that I have become an almost daily bike rider, although I am writing this after three whole days of non-riding. (Two I blame on a family visit and one on today’s lousy rain.) The third piece of information I wish to impart — and I refer to this not as “news” because it most certainly won’t surprise anyone — I’m still not particularly good at it.
The fibromyalgia continues to be a humbling factor in it all. I find my leg strength wildly inconsistent, so one day I feel like I could go for miles (until my ass cries otherwise) and other days a perfunctory ride around the neighborhood is the very best I can do and I have to ease up even small inclines at the lowest of gears.
(more…)
September 28th, 2009
It seems that God — or whoever is in charge of the universe this week — felt I had gotten a little uppity about my bike (“It’s so pretty! It’s so cool! I’m a better person than you are!”) and arranged for a couple days of rain this past weekend. Because I’m pretty sure that’s what a higher power does: sits around dreaming up ways of putting me in my place. Thus, my dream of taking Daisy to one of our finer metro parks to see what she’s made of did not become a reality. It’s possible this could happen another time, but I prefer to dwell on the finality of it all.
Due to the aforementioned weather issues, I’ve only had a few days riding since I last posted and, to be honest, not much riding in those days, distance- or time-wise. I’d blame it all on my hectic social schedule, but I think we all know that’s not the case. Mostly, I just tooled around the neighborhood, and I seem to be mastering one of what I presume to be the key elements of bicycling — keeping my balance. It seems to me that not falling off is probably a pretty important skill to have and the more I ride, even little jaunts around the ‘hood, the less likely it seems that I will lose control of my bike and veer into a parked car. Or a moving car. Or a small child. This is all good progress.
I’m still a little skittish around cars because, it seems to me that all the belly-aching my bikier friends have been doing for years about drivers being boorish and discourteous to riders might actually be true. (If I’d known I’d wind up with a bike one day, I might have listened with greater compassion and an ear towards a solution. Probably not, but maybe.) And I still haven’t mastered what feels to me like a Cirque du Soleil-level trick of steering with one paw on the handles so that I can signal my turning intentions to drivers. Thus, I’ve been known to pass up a turn or two just to keep both hands in play. I’m discovering that a person could get lost this way.
(more…)
September 9th, 2009
I strongly recommend not taking a drink for 13 years. Because if you do, it turns out your husband might knock your socks off with perhaps the most awesome present of all time: an Electra Townie Original 7D bicycle in glorious, citrus-y orange pearl. At least that’s how it worked for me. (Disclaimer: This may not be true of all husbands.) Please meet my new bike, Daisy.
I should start by noting (somewhat sheepishly) that this is actually the first bicycle I’ve ever owned. I know how to ride one, thank goodness, and I’m not exactly sure why or how I made it this far in life without ever getting one, but there you have it. Good things do come to those who wait. I have the proof.
Since moving to Ann Arbor, a very bike-y town of exceedingly manageable size, I’ve been toying with becoming a bike owner, getting something used off Craig’s List. From time to time, I browse what’s available, realize I don’t really know what I’m looking for (or, usually, at) and put it off for another season. Every once in a while, as I drive by one of A2’s many, many bike shops, I think about stopping in and asking for help figuring out what I need. But the stores are full of bike-y people and their bike-y knowledge and I get intimidated, so I keep on driving past. Fortunately, I have a husband who is vastly more diligent than I, particularly when it comes to research — and it seems he has managed to find the absolute perfect bike for someone like me. And not just because it’s retro-cool and super-adorable.
Turns out the Townie is also the ideal bike for someone like me — a novice who doesn’t need a fancy racing dealio, a million gears she would never use, and who has a number of physical ailments that often render other bikes an exercise in sheer torture. The Townie’s designed with flat-foot technology, meaning your feet can rest comfortably on the ground when stopped, so you don’t feel like you’re going to fall over. The pedals are placed further forward make for a fuller leg extension (more akin to the recumbent bike at the gym), and that’s great for someone (like me) with knee pain . It also features a nifty upright riding position — as opposed to the hunched-over posture on most regular bikes — which reduces back, neck and arm fatigue. For someone with chronic pain issues (like moi), this is just dandy.
(more…)
September 4th, 2009
I don’t know if the old man is snoring. Who is the old man,anyway? I never stopped to ask myself that. I mean, really. The crap they sing to us as kids and wonder why we end up in therapy. And by “we,” I mean “you.” Not me. No way.
Can you tell it’s Friday and rainy and I’m trying to avoid work by rambling inanely about whatever’s on my mind? Like pickles. For some reason, I’ve been thinking a lot about pickles lately. Making my own. I love a good pickle, the garlicky-er and sour-er the better. And when I see cute little trays of baby cukes at the farmer’s market, it inspires me. It doesn’t actually inspire me to do anything, just to think about doing it.
It speaks to something sort of inherent in me. I’m much more a fan of the idea of doing things than I am the actual doing of things. Pickles seem like the simplest thing, for examples, but then you start reading supply lists and recipes and how you’re supposed to boil the jars and seal them for sanitary purposes and it begins to sound akin to prepping a surgical suite. Which isn’t really that delicious.
Where am I going with this? No idea. Perhaps an existential reflection on what I am or am not doing with my life, now that Mad Men has started a new season and glum navel-gazing is in vogue. Or, more likely, just a diversion to see how much time I can waste before I have to get back and put in at least a couple good hours editing and rewriting. (Hint: if you are placing money on this, I would strongly suggest betting on the latter.)
Okay. Fine. You win. Back to work it is. Only because it’s less hassle than boiling pickle jars.
August 28th, 2009
Because sometimes in life it is the simplest things that keep me going.
August 20th, 2009
It probably surprises some people that someone as heat-adverse as me would venture to Puerto Rico in summer. Or any time, really. I understand. It surprises me, too. But one of the mitigating factors is that my favorite place in Puerto Rico is El Yunque, the rainforest in the northeastern part of the island. For years now, we’ve been staying at Casa Cubuy (see Chris & Denise below) , an ecolodge on the edge of the rainforest, located at the very top of the mountain on the non-touristy side. (It’s the opposite side from the National Park entrance.) It’s generally quite a bit cooler up there than down among mere mortals, even in summer.
People have asked me in the past what there is to do on “our” side of the mountain. The answer is a very calculated “nothing.” There are no TVs or phones in the rooms and, until recently, no internet access. (Although on this last trip, service was spotty enough to dissuade us from using it too much.) The reason I go is to plant myself in a chair on the balcony of an upstairs room and stare out at El Yunque, listening to the roar of the waterfall below and the chorus of the coqui frogs, and watching the rain clouds approach and burst open in front of me. Some books get read, a little hiking gets done, especially the easy hike down to the waterfall and swimming hole in Casa Cubuy’s backyard.
If you’ll forgive the foray into cheesiness, the truth is that I tend to feel at peace and calm in the rainforest. In a way I don’t anywhere else. Casa Cubuy is not a luxury resort and, as much as I hate to admit it, has probably seen better days — although it deserves mention that it’s difficult to keep any place rust- and mold-free in that climate. The furniture is simple and mismatched. The sheets and bedding are nothing to write home about. But if you go there knowing that the place is merely a backdrop for the rainforest, then you probably won’t mind a bit.
Puerto Rico’s native Indians, the Tainos, believed that the peak of El Yunque was where their god of creation, Yuquiyu, dwelled and even today it’s not hard to see why. When you watch the rain clouds approach, traveling without rhyme or reason across thousands of acres of rainforest, and open up and release a thunderous burst of rain, it’s pretty apparent that something bigger than me is going on. Maybe not Yuquiyu, but something that keeps me feeling right-sized and humbled in the best of ways. (more…)
August 13th, 2009
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