Monday, August 11, 2014

Vignettes of comfort and discomfort

(Previous vignettes: Asking, Words, Voyeur, Ending, Holidays, Couples, From before, What not to say, Change, Restless, Mountains)

 I keep the backup house because an independent woman can't be too careful, but between us, we are about to acquire a third house, one with a giant view of the sea and some mountains, one that we will run away to whenever we can. I'm unaccustomed to wanting to run away with someone. It's been several years (a couple is only two, he often reminds me) and I am only now starting to settle in. Soon, I may even unpack.

It's a midlife crisis of sorts. I'd rather be at home than work for the first time in my life. As a result, I'm asking questions about what I want to do with my life besides work 12 or more hours a day regularly. Better late than never I suppose. I am tired of sitting at desks and tables but how many yoga teachers does the world really need? Park rangers always look happy and healthy except when cleaning anything involving waste. Occasionally he tells me, "You don't have to work you know." This concept is foreign to me as though someone told me, "You don't have to shower, you know." Technically I suppose both of those things are true, but isn't everyone better off that we do?

It's odd walking around mostly healthy with something I could technically die from at any moment. People who know what's going on ask me how I feel and most of the time I feel the same. I'm running and biking and sometimes swimming and hiking. On a trail run about two miles from my house last weekend, I had a bad (probably comical, in hindsight) fall. I tripped right over a root on a slight downhill and landed hard on my surgical knee, hands and elbows in rocks. I knew it would be bad the moment it happened. I stayed there in mud for a minute and started crying. It wasn't due to pain, it was because I knew I was bleeding and that's now hard to stop. I knew I hit my knee bad and my latest surgery to it was only 6 months ago and I knew I did not want to spend another 6 months recovering. I had just started running again and was up to only 3 miles, but was reveling in those three miles. Eventually I got up and assessed. I did not hit my head, good. I was bleeding decently  in four places but only worrying in one. I could bear weight on the surgical knee. I was, basically, fine. I limped the 2 miles home in rain and lightening and jogged again only four days later. I missed only 1.5 runs because of it and I am so grateful it wasn't worse. I'm being quite careful and I'm hopeful to be cleared to fly again soon.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Make some room for yourself

Demand It Courageously
by Julia Hartwig 

Make some room for yourself, human animal.
Even a dog jostles about on his master's lap to improve his position.
And when he needs space he runs forward, without paying attention to commands or calls.

If you didn't manage to receive freedom as a gift, demand it as courageously as bread and meat.
Make some room for yourself, human pride and dignity.

The Czech writer Hrabal said: I have as much freedom as I take.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

She doesn't know how not to

Friday, April 19, 2013

Embarrassment of Riches

I'm laughing in bed with my phone blaring Willie Nelson's "On the road again." I ask, "You've really never heard Willie Nelson?"

"I have not." This is one of those odd cultural disparities. He's Spanish. From Madrid. I'm American, from Texas. We move from On the Road Again to Angels Flying to Close to the Ground.

He says, "It's not as bad as I thought it was be. But it does sound like a Texan grabbing the microphone after four beers."

"Well, sure. Essentially, that's what it is. With a giant Texas flag behind it."
I wake up early and go into our exercise room to row and do 30 minutes of barre before work. Our suburban home is unnecessarily big. As a result, we are lucky enough to have an exercise room. And a library. And a fireplace in our bedroom. None of this is necessary for me to be happy, but periodically I look around and feel lucky. It's the love though, not the house itself.

We gutted the kitchen and made every decision about what we replaced it with, together. We agonized over wood stains and granite and pulls. Sometimes when we are cooking together he grabs me and says, "I love our kitchen." I love it too and as much as it sucked when we were doing it, it's blissful to cook in there with him now.

I adore that it's ours. That we built it together. And it's new memories for us both. 

We are planning a road trip in the coming months. We'll start in a little house by the sea with a hot tub. And it doesn't really matter what happens from there. I'll bring Willie Nelson and we'll be on the road. Together.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Cooking Eggs Sunday Morning

Him: Have you seen that movie? It had Susan Sarandon in it?

Me: No. Also? Of course not.

Him: Too bad.

Me: Susan Sarandon is one of those older women you'd do in a heartbeat isn't she?

Him: Yes. How did you know?

Me: How could I not know? Every smart man who likes smart women feels the same way.

Him: Hmm. Really?

Me: Yes. And I wouldn't even be mad.

Him: Good to know.

Me: I mean, if it just was one time.

Him: Glad you clarified that. 

Me: If it was just one time and if it was Susan Sarandon. Only.