Thursdays are meadow days in my life. Meadow days are usually a blast but the last two have been very different.
An ideal meadow day would begin with looking at different maps. We teach kids how to use a map legend and then draw contour lines over their knuckles to help them understand topography.
On our hike we stop at the Wishing Maple, a huge Big-leaf Maple, and have snack. I usually tell a story while they eat.
When we get close to the meadow we usually see a rabbit or two. We eat lunch when we get to the meadow and then get going with our big activities for the day.
First is orienteering--learning how to use a compass. I love teaching this and seeing it come together in the kids' heads. After doing a compass-guided scavenger hunt we move into the tall grass and play games.
The favorite is always camoflage. All of the campers hide in the tal grass except one. The camper who is it and didn't hide has to call out the names of the hiders if they see them. They all learn about the best ways not to be seen and we talk about why animals use camoflage. They love it.
We also play a game called predator-prey. It's sort of complicated but essentially involves campers being either mice, weasels or hawks and running around "eating" each other. We play a few rounds with different amounts of each animal. They can see the ways that a food web can easily fall out of balance and they begin to understand carrying capacity.
After a few more fun, run-around games we hike back to camp, do a craft project, and talk about where we would go if we could go anywhere in the world and why we would go there.
Two weeks ago on meadow day I came home in a foul mood. My blood-stained shirt was just one indicator of how my day had unfolded. I had an awful group of boys in my den. They did not listen to a single thing I said, they would not keep their hands and feet to themselves, they could not follow directions to save their lives and they didn't care at all. They were 6 and 7 years old and calling each other assholes for fun. I had tried every trick up my sleeve but it was to no avail.
Orienteering was a wreck. They couldn't even listen long enough to learn how to find north. Camoflage was sort of fun until boys started going outside the boundaries and crying when they were found. It was hot out, they were dumping out their water botles instead of drinking them, it was awful. At long last it was time to hike back to camp. I arranged them in a line to start going back but Luca didn't like where he was in the line so he pushed poor Wyatt, who fell face first into the concrete. I immediately ran over and lifted Wyatt up off the ground and pulled him toward me. His nose started gushing blood and his lip began to swell. I had my first aid kit, but without a sink and a box of tissues we were struggling. Eventually the bleeding stopped and I was confident that Wyatt's nose wasn't broken. I marched all five boys over to a tree, sat them down and was seriously not nice. Back at camp I got Wyatt an ice pack. After the kids left I tidied up my classroom and went home to wash the blood, sweat and tears off of my body. Worst camp day ever.
This past week was so much better. My group had some pretty young kids in it but they were pretty great. They had good attitudes. They loved for me to tell them stories constantly on every hike and during every snack and lunch time. All was well until later in the day. We were playing a final round of camoflage in the grass when "the incident" took place. Sometimes I play camoflage with the kids and hide in the grass. I secretly enjoy it because I can just lay there and close my eyes and rest for a few minutes. I was supervising this time so I wasn't hiding. About 3 of the kids had already been found and the rest of them, including my two teenage jr. naturalists, were hiding near one another. All of the sudden I see heads start popping up out of the grass, then every single one of them comes running toward me screaming "snake!". If you know me at all you know that I do not deal well with snakes. I couldn't help but laugh at the kids though; it was a hilarious site to see them all running and screaming. On that note I said "time to go" and we hiked back to camp.
I guess I'll have to wait and see what adventure or travisty this Thursday will bring.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Friday, August 10, 2012
My Oasys was Really a Mirage
No, I did not mispell the word "Oasis" by accident. Today I had my annual eye exam, necessary so that I could continue to refill me contacts prescription. I saw a new doctor at the closest Costco since this is our first year up here. I absolutely loved the doctor I saw. She asked me if I was still wearing Acuvue Oasys brand contacts (which are the most popular) and I said that I was. She proceeded to ask if I was happy with them and, deciding that I was not crazy for my dissatisfaction, I said that I wasn't. I told her that I work outside all day every day, that my contacts often get blurry and move off of my pupils, wear out quickly, and that I sometimes have seasonal allergies. I also mentioned that I could pretty much always feel the contact in my eye at least a little bit, which shouldn't be the case. I told her that I felt like my prescription strength needed boosted as well (meaning I needed stronger lenses because my vision has deteriorated...again).
She was so nice and did lots of extra tests and looking at my eyes. She even flipped up my eyelids and looked at those. No doctor, in the 15 years that I've been seeing an optometrist, has ever looked under my eyelids. She also told me that I was a great patient for giving her all of that information. I always give my doctors lots of information and usually feel like I'm being annoying, so that made me feel validated.
It turns out that I did in fact need a stronger prescription. In addition, the underside of my eyelids essentially look like eyelid gravel, instead of the smooth texure they are supposed to be. She thinks that my eyes may be slightly allergic to the lenses, they aren't quite fitting correctly and that my allergies and outdoorsyness are too much for my contact solution to handle.
She gave me a new fancy lens case with hydrogen peroxide lens cleaner, a prescription for allergy eyedrops to use twice a day, and a new type of lenses too. She was awesome and nice and I really felt taken care of. I can't say that I'm surprised that my eyes are faulty and finicky like the rest of my body. That is sort of how it goes for me. At least they are pretty though, right?
She was so nice and did lots of extra tests and looking at my eyes. She even flipped up my eyelids and looked at those. No doctor, in the 15 years that I've been seeing an optometrist, has ever looked under my eyelids. She also told me that I was a great patient for giving her all of that information. I always give my doctors lots of information and usually feel like I'm being annoying, so that made me feel validated.
It turns out that I did in fact need a stronger prescription. In addition, the underside of my eyelids essentially look like eyelid gravel, instead of the smooth texure they are supposed to be. She thinks that my eyes may be slightly allergic to the lenses, they aren't quite fitting correctly and that my allergies and outdoorsyness are too much for my contact solution to handle.
She gave me a new fancy lens case with hydrogen peroxide lens cleaner, a prescription for allergy eyedrops to use twice a day, and a new type of lenses too. She was awesome and nice and I really felt taken care of. I can't say that I'm surprised that my eyes are faulty and finicky like the rest of my body. That is sort of how it goes for me. At least they are pretty though, right?
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Celebrating Two Years
As I mentioned in my last post, Sunday was our second wedding anniversary. We originally had plans to do something spectacular, like whale-watching, but we ended up being a bit poor for such an extravagant venture. We ended up having a spectacularly adventurous day regardless.*
*All photos taken with our single-use, waterproof, disposable camera--old school style
We started our morning by strolling along down the aisles of the Ballard Street market. We bought two awesome things: cheese and flowers. Actually, rewind, let me back up. We really began our morning by stopping at the grocery store to get some cash, where Ricky found $20 in the cash return slot. Epic score. So, after that, nothing could damper our spirits. So a lady at the market made a bouquet of dahlias and snapdragons especially for me and I paid for that and the cheese with our free $20 and still had leftovers.
After enjoying the bustling market we headed home, changed into swimsuits and shorts and left again. We had intended to grab a spot of lunch at our favorite sandwich shop Paseo but remembered that it was closed on Sundays. Instead we ate at another awesome eatery in Ballard, La Isla. La Isla is a Puerto Rican restaurant and it is delicious. We split two empanadias and a pernil bowl with tostones (ie--giant fried wantons stuffed with garlicy potatoes and cheese, a pulled pork bowl with rice, and delicious fried plantains).
We did both manage to get pooped on by seagulls at separate times. I think that means that we are lucky, even though it sure didn't feel very lucky at the time. We saw five Fried Egg Jellyfish in the water, a few schools of tiny fish, one Great Blue Heron, tons of Bull Kelp and a frillion boats. The views of the Olympics and Rainier were sublime and we could not have asked for better conditions.
After paddle-boarding we went home, showered, put on our third outfits of the day and went to dinner. We had Indian food at Taste of India. They are super awesome, never let our water glasses get below two inches from the top of the glass and give us free appetizers and dessert. We love it there.
After dinner we saw the movie Brave at the Majestic Bay Theater. Disney-Pixar has put some great things out the past few years and this one didn't disappoint. What's not to like about Irish accents, castles, people turning into bears, magic, archery and a strong female lead? Nothing, that's what.
Post movie we went to our favorite Seattle food spot, Molly Moons Ice Cream. We split a banana split (chuckle) and ate it at a nearby overlook point. The vista before us as we ate was of a warm sunset over Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountain Range. The boats that remained on the water were lit up and sparkling and the city was at it's usual nightly glow.
When we finally came home for the night Ricky told me that our day had been the most fun he had had during his whole time in graduate school. That compliment was even better than the other gifts he had given me that day. Excuse the gush, but I am so lucky to have such a sweet, kind, generous, brilliant, and loving husband. We are exceedingly happy together, almost to the point of being unrealistic. Year #2 of marriage brought us some hurtles and challenges, namely graduate school and the big move to Seattle, but we made it. I would be so bold as to say that we grew leaps and bounds this year as individuals and as a couple. I am so excited to see what married year #3 has in store for us!
*All photos taken with our single-use, waterproof, disposable camera--old school style
We started our morning by strolling along down the aisles of the Ballard Street market. We bought two awesome things: cheese and flowers. Actually, rewind, let me back up. We really began our morning by stopping at the grocery store to get some cash, where Ricky found $20 in the cash return slot. Epic score. So, after that, nothing could damper our spirits. So a lady at the market made a bouquet of dahlias and snapdragons especially for me and I paid for that and the cheese with our free $20 and still had leftovers.
After stuffing ourselves silly we headed down the road to the day's main event, paddle-boarding! Months previously we had secured living social deals to Surf Ballard for two hours of stand-up paddle board rentals. We had saved them for our anniversary and, luckily for us, the weather was ideal for it. We paddled all the way to the lighthouse at the park where I work and back. Neither of us fell the entire time either (even though Ricky fake fell at the end just to make me laugh).
We did both manage to get pooped on by seagulls at separate times. I think that means that we are lucky, even though it sure didn't feel very lucky at the time. We saw five Fried Egg Jellyfish in the water, a few schools of tiny fish, one Great Blue Heron, tons of Bull Kelp and a frillion boats. The views of the Olympics and Rainier were sublime and we could not have asked for better conditions.
After paddle-boarding we went home, showered, put on our third outfits of the day and went to dinner. We had Indian food at Taste of India. They are super awesome, never let our water glasses get below two inches from the top of the glass and give us free appetizers and dessert. We love it there.
After dinner we saw the movie Brave at the Majestic Bay Theater. Disney-Pixar has put some great things out the past few years and this one didn't disappoint. What's not to like about Irish accents, castles, people turning into bears, magic, archery and a strong female lead? Nothing, that's what.
Post movie we went to our favorite Seattle food spot, Molly Moons Ice Cream. We split a banana split (chuckle) and ate it at a nearby overlook point. The vista before us as we ate was of a warm sunset over Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountain Range. The boats that remained on the water were lit up and sparkling and the city was at it's usual nightly glow.
When we finally came home for the night Ricky told me that our day had been the most fun he had had during his whole time in graduate school. That compliment was even better than the other gifts he had given me that day. Excuse the gush, but I am so lucky to have such a sweet, kind, generous, brilliant, and loving husband. We are exceedingly happy together, almost to the point of being unrealistic. Year #2 of marriage brought us some hurtles and challenges, namely graduate school and the big move to Seattle, but we made it. I would be so bold as to say that we grew leaps and bounds this year as individuals and as a couple. I am so excited to see what married year #3 has in store for us!
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Memories: Our First Anniversary
On this August the 4th, 2012, the eve of our second wedding anniversary I am thinking about how lovely our first anniversary was. I spent much of today reminiscing about that day one year ago when I realized that I have never properly documented it. I'm not planning on losing my memory any time soon, but you never know, right? What was that movie with Rachel McAdams where she got in a car crash and didn't remember her own husband? Anyway, it could happen.
We don't have any photos from our first anniversary because we didn't bother to check if the camera was charged or not before we left the house. I will just have to do my best to write 1,000 words about it that are worth a picture.
August 5th, 2011
We hopped in the car (our old Volvo, Dina R.I.P) around 9am and headed for the coast. The day was picturesque, sunny with a slight breeze and a few of those cotton-ball clouds. We listened to music in the car and sang loudly to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack and later listened to some Harry Potter on audiobook (thank goodness for Jim Dale). When we arrived in Florence we headed North up the coast for another 20 minutes until we arrived at our destination. I stepped out of the car and onto a grassy slope, feet away from some gorgeous chestnut horses. We meandered up the pathway to the small building where we were to sign in. After reading the rulebook and signing our lives away we were each introduced to our companions for the day; mine was named Alan. Alan was tall, dark ad handsome, just like my husband.
I was so proud of Ricky. After being kicked by a cow as a child, Ricky has always been a bit wary around hooved beasts. Like the brave man that he is, he climbed up into the saddle anyways and gave me a strained grin. I laughed, feeling comfortable and excited. We rode our horses one by one across the road, through a meadow, then a forest, up some sand dunes and finally onto a wide expanse of beach. Our guide said that we were free to go at our own pace (which turned out to really just be whatever pace our horses decided to go) and that she would signal when we should turn around. We mostly walked our horses but couldn't resist a good trot every few minutes. Alan let me steer him into the water a little bit, which I got a big kick out of. Ricky and I were able to keep our horses next to each other most of the time. He relaxed a lot and ended up really enjoying the ride. Does it get more romantic than horseback riding on the beach? I don't think so.
After the ride we ate at our favorite little restaurant in Florence, Resto Bar. We had pastas and bread and cheeses and sliced prociutto, salami, and pesto. After sufficiently stuffing ourselves we walked down onto the beach. Ricky surprised me by presenting me with a lovely necklace with a tree on it. It is delicate and simple and I wear it nearly everyday now. We sat on a log and watched the sun make it's way toward the horizon and, when we were ready, made the journey home.
We ended the night with delicious cake from none other than Sweet Life Patisserie. The day was absolutely wonderful--one I will not forget, even without photos.
That wasn't 1,000 words, it was only about 500. That's just an indicator of how great of a day it was; it was so obviously awesome that I was able to get my point across in half the time. I began writing this post on August 4th, now it is officially our anniversary. I'm looking forward to a very Seattle anniversary when I wake in the morning. Hoorah for two whole years!
We don't have any photos from our first anniversary because we didn't bother to check if the camera was charged or not before we left the house. I will just have to do my best to write 1,000 words about it that are worth a picture.
August 5th, 2011
We hopped in the car (our old Volvo, Dina R.I.P) around 9am and headed for the coast. The day was picturesque, sunny with a slight breeze and a few of those cotton-ball clouds. We listened to music in the car and sang loudly to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack and later listened to some Harry Potter on audiobook (thank goodness for Jim Dale). When we arrived in Florence we headed North up the coast for another 20 minutes until we arrived at our destination. I stepped out of the car and onto a grassy slope, feet away from some gorgeous chestnut horses. We meandered up the pathway to the small building where we were to sign in. After reading the rulebook and signing our lives away we were each introduced to our companions for the day; mine was named Alan. Alan was tall, dark ad handsome, just like my husband.
I was so proud of Ricky. After being kicked by a cow as a child, Ricky has always been a bit wary around hooved beasts. Like the brave man that he is, he climbed up into the saddle anyways and gave me a strained grin. I laughed, feeling comfortable and excited. We rode our horses one by one across the road, through a meadow, then a forest, up some sand dunes and finally onto a wide expanse of beach. Our guide said that we were free to go at our own pace (which turned out to really just be whatever pace our horses decided to go) and that she would signal when we should turn around. We mostly walked our horses but couldn't resist a good trot every few minutes. Alan let me steer him into the water a little bit, which I got a big kick out of. Ricky and I were able to keep our horses next to each other most of the time. He relaxed a lot and ended up really enjoying the ride. Does it get more romantic than horseback riding on the beach? I don't think so.
After the ride we ate at our favorite little restaurant in Florence, Resto Bar. We had pastas and bread and cheeses and sliced prociutto, salami, and pesto. After sufficiently stuffing ourselves we walked down onto the beach. Ricky surprised me by presenting me with a lovely necklace with a tree on it. It is delicate and simple and I wear it nearly everyday now. We sat on a log and watched the sun make it's way toward the horizon and, when we were ready, made the journey home.
We ended the night with delicious cake from none other than Sweet Life Patisserie. The day was absolutely wonderful--one I will not forget, even without photos.
That wasn't 1,000 words, it was only about 500. That's just an indicator of how great of a day it was; it was so obviously awesome that I was able to get my point across in half the time. I began writing this post on August 4th, now it is officially our anniversary. I'm looking forward to a very Seattle anniversary when I wake in the morning. Hoorah for two whole years!
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Age is Just a Number
As I've grown older and wiser and rounder I've realized that a person's age doesn't really matter very much. We had a surprise overnight visit from some of our very best good friends last night. These particular friends are at least four, maybe five or six years older than us (I can't remember because age doesn't matter, which is why I'm writing this post). We have several other friends who are also multiple years older than we are, in fact, nearly every friend Ricky and I have made since graduating from high school has been older than we are. Are we just that mature that we couldn't possibly make friends our own age? I like to think we are fairly mature for our age but I don't think that's the reason our friends our older.
My hypothesis is this, once you reach a certain age (I think somewhere around 17-18) you stop making friends with the people your age and start making friends with the people that are in a similar stage of life to yours. Young single adults tend to group together in their dating frenzies, newly married couples without kids like to hang out together, new parents cling to one another for support and advice, and so on and so forth. Ricky and I tied the knot at a pretty young age, relative to national standards, so as 21 year-olds, we began making friends with other people who were fairly newly married, they just so happened to be a few years older. It turns out our age differences are nearly never noticed, with the exception being the occasional missed pop-culture reference.
I also have a sub-hypothesis (if that is really a thing) with regards to life experience. I firmly believe that the various life experiences that each of us undergoes help to shape our future decisions, including who to choose as our friends. These days I find myself building friendships with people that have been through family crises or that have had some rough periods of life that they've worked through. I relate to these people more easily and feel that they have a deeper wealth of experiences that have brought them to where they are. For example, I married a man whose childhood (by no fault of his own) included some really rough times. I find him attractive in part because of his perseverence and his ability to choose a different and better life for himself. If I were still in that awful world of dating, I don't think I would ever find myself with someone whose life had been easy, peachy keen and squeaky clean. Where's the depth? Where's the proof that they can rise above and overcome a trial?
What I am trying to say is that I love my friends and I am glad that they don't seem to care that Ricky and I are by far the babies of our friend group. When all is said and done, age is just a number--it is who we choose to be, what road we choose to travel, and what leg of the journey we are on that help us select the best people to surround ourselves with.
My hypothesis is this, once you reach a certain age (I think somewhere around 17-18) you stop making friends with the people your age and start making friends with the people that are in a similar stage of life to yours. Young single adults tend to group together in their dating frenzies, newly married couples without kids like to hang out together, new parents cling to one another for support and advice, and so on and so forth. Ricky and I tied the knot at a pretty young age, relative to national standards, so as 21 year-olds, we began making friends with other people who were fairly newly married, they just so happened to be a few years older. It turns out our age differences are nearly never noticed, with the exception being the occasional missed pop-culture reference.
I also have a sub-hypothesis (if that is really a thing) with regards to life experience. I firmly believe that the various life experiences that each of us undergoes help to shape our future decisions, including who to choose as our friends. These days I find myself building friendships with people that have been through family crises or that have had some rough periods of life that they've worked through. I relate to these people more easily and feel that they have a deeper wealth of experiences that have brought them to where they are. For example, I married a man whose childhood (by no fault of his own) included some really rough times. I find him attractive in part because of his perseverence and his ability to choose a different and better life for himself. If I were still in that awful world of dating, I don't think I would ever find myself with someone whose life had been easy, peachy keen and squeaky clean. Where's the depth? Where's the proof that they can rise above and overcome a trial?
What I am trying to say is that I love my friends and I am glad that they don't seem to care that Ricky and I are by far the babies of our friend group. When all is said and done, age is just a number--it is who we choose to be, what road we choose to travel, and what leg of the journey we are on that help us select the best people to surround ourselves with.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Tradition and Ceremony
These are two things that have been on my mind. I see tradition and ceremony as closely related; I think that sometimes they can coincide but they are not mutually exclusive. When I say "ceremony" in this context I am not referring to weddings or religious events, rather the idea of rituals performed in important or sacred ways. I believe that ceremonies can be small things that we do in our lives on other days besides holidays. In my mind ceremonies indicate the intent with which an action is performed, not just the action itself.
Every culture, religion and family has its own traditions, some of which are done ceremoniously. As I grow and learn, I find myself creating both ceremonies, traditions and ceremonious traditions as part of my life. For example, I often walk through the woods alone, silently. As I walk I look up and simultaneously communicate with both God and birds. As I walk I thank the Lord for the beauty that surrounds me and I tell the birds that I am there, I am there friend, I respect them and wish to see them. Not a word escapes my lips during this time, instead I feel that I radiate these thoughts and feelings outwardly through my heart and mind. Like when you think something so strongly and loudly that you're sure someone else must have heard.
I also consider our future family and the traditions we may develop. There are traditions from both Ricky and my childhoods that we will keep, but there are others that we talk about adding to our lives as well. We usually recieved new pajamas Christmas eve that we wore that night, this is a tradition I love and will keep for my children. I feel like traditions help unite families, regardless of whether or not the tradition is a religious one.
I tend to be an extremely romantic person in that I romanticize events, words, art, everything I come in contact with really. I am drawn toward what is beautiful, what is sublime, what fills me to the brim with emotion--I am filled readily. Tonight we watched the opening ceremony of the 30th Olympic games in London (as I hope most of you did as well). The Olympics are an event that I look forward to every two years and the opening ceremony is my most favorite part. I love the lights, music, dancing, amazing effects and dazzling performances, but most of all I love the (romanticized) sense that while the games go on there is a halt to war and a feeling of peace and unity throughout the world. I know it isn't true, but I still feel encouraged that the games (Olympics, not Hunger) go on and that citizens from almost every country participate and work together. Despite the lengthiness of the whole event and the often irritating commentary by NBC, I watch from start to finish. Even when I am tempted to tune out during the Parade of Nations I don't because I feel like my attention is a salute to those small but no less important nations.
Tonight's opening ceremony did not disappoint. I'll tell you my favorite parts. Obviously, I loved the bit with the queen and James Bond. I love the queen, she's so cute and old! I adored the opening during the agrarian section with the children singing Oh Danny Boy and other songs--I was teary. I loved the bit with J.K. Rowling because she is one of my heroes and it was awesome that voldemort was there. The bit with all the floating Mary Poppins' with their umbrellas was lovely too. Rowin Atkinson couldn't have been funnier in his part with the LSO. I liked the part with the bicycle doves as they rode around the outside, wings flapping. I enjoyed the symbolism used throughout the ceremony and found myself laughing or in (happy) tears on more than one occasion. Hey Jude with Sir Paul McCartney at the end was very unifying--he's still awesome even though he's getting old. Oh, and I think Denmark had the best outfits.
Overall I thought the ceremony was beautiful and well done. I may still have enjoyed Vancouver 2010 a bit more, but I think the added humor in tonight's ceremony was a great change of pace.
One tradition that our family will certainly keep is to watch the Olympic opening ceremony together every year. The kids will stay up and watch until they fall asleep and Ricky and I will watch until the end, feeling that connection that spans accross the world, or at least accross my heartstrings.
Every culture, religion and family has its own traditions, some of which are done ceremoniously. As I grow and learn, I find myself creating both ceremonies, traditions and ceremonious traditions as part of my life. For example, I often walk through the woods alone, silently. As I walk I look up and simultaneously communicate with both God and birds. As I walk I thank the Lord for the beauty that surrounds me and I tell the birds that I am there, I am there friend, I respect them and wish to see them. Not a word escapes my lips during this time, instead I feel that I radiate these thoughts and feelings outwardly through my heart and mind. Like when you think something so strongly and loudly that you're sure someone else must have heard.
I also consider our future family and the traditions we may develop. There are traditions from both Ricky and my childhoods that we will keep, but there are others that we talk about adding to our lives as well. We usually recieved new pajamas Christmas eve that we wore that night, this is a tradition I love and will keep for my children. I feel like traditions help unite families, regardless of whether or not the tradition is a religious one.
I tend to be an extremely romantic person in that I romanticize events, words, art, everything I come in contact with really. I am drawn toward what is beautiful, what is sublime, what fills me to the brim with emotion--I am filled readily. Tonight we watched the opening ceremony of the 30th Olympic games in London (as I hope most of you did as well). The Olympics are an event that I look forward to every two years and the opening ceremony is my most favorite part. I love the lights, music, dancing, amazing effects and dazzling performances, but most of all I love the (romanticized) sense that while the games go on there is a halt to war and a feeling of peace and unity throughout the world. I know it isn't true, but I still feel encouraged that the games (Olympics, not Hunger) go on and that citizens from almost every country participate and work together. Despite the lengthiness of the whole event and the often irritating commentary by NBC, I watch from start to finish. Even when I am tempted to tune out during the Parade of Nations I don't because I feel like my attention is a salute to those small but no less important nations.
Tonight's opening ceremony did not disappoint. I'll tell you my favorite parts. Obviously, I loved the bit with the queen and James Bond. I love the queen, she's so cute and old! I adored the opening during the agrarian section with the children singing Oh Danny Boy and other songs--I was teary. I loved the bit with J.K. Rowling because she is one of my heroes and it was awesome that voldemort was there. The bit with all the floating Mary Poppins' with their umbrellas was lovely too. Rowin Atkinson couldn't have been funnier in his part with the LSO. I liked the part with the bicycle doves as they rode around the outside, wings flapping. I enjoyed the symbolism used throughout the ceremony and found myself laughing or in (happy) tears on more than one occasion. Hey Jude with Sir Paul McCartney at the end was very unifying--he's still awesome even though he's getting old. Oh, and I think Denmark had the best outfits.
Overall I thought the ceremony was beautiful and well done. I may still have enjoyed Vancouver 2010 a bit more, but I think the added humor in tonight's ceremony was a great change of pace.
One tradition that our family will certainly keep is to watch the Olympic opening ceremony together every year. The kids will stay up and watch until they fall asleep and Ricky and I will watch until the end, feeling that connection that spans accross the world, or at least accross my heartstrings.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
TTW: When Women Were Birds
The moment I purchased my copy of When Women Were Birds I knew that Terry Tempest Williams would not disappoint me. The dust jacket is pure white with birds imprinted into it, you can feel them but barely see them. Beneath the dust jacket the book is light grey. The color of an eggshell or a sun-warmed stone. Inside the front and back cover the pages are filled with black and white feathers and in the middle of the edge of every right-hand page is a tiny silhouetted bird in flight. Thumbing through the pages quickly is like a flip book showing the bird flapping its wings up and down. The aesthetics of the book alone held my interest for days before I began to read.
TTW is my favorite author. She is an LDS woman, a feminist, an environmentalist. She writes with passion and conviction. She tells stories that are true. Her writing engages my spirit. I was priveleged enough to here her speak two years ago at the UO after releasing her previous book Finding Beauty in a Broken World. As I sat in the audience I tried to absorb her every word into my mind and lock it there. I was willing her to know that I was there and I too am an LDS woman that doesn't fit the mold. She reminds me that I am not alone and that I am not crazy. Although I have not made and do not plan on making all of the same choices that she has, she validates me with her words. She expresses what I feel more eloquently than I can. She is an advocate for having a personal religion, a doctrine that you and only you abide by and so do I.
Her new book is a personal expression about women, their likeness to birds, their trials, their choices. She discusses life and death in a way that makes them both seem beautiful. I love that much of what she reveals causes me to reflect on my own choices and feelings as a woman, as an LDS woman, as an activist and as a writer. I could never write a book review that could do this book justice or that could convey the power and depth of TTW's writing. Regardless, I encourage you to read it.
Here are just a sampling of the passages that really struck a chord with me:
"If there ever was a story without a shadow, it would be this: that we as women exist in direct sunlight only. When women were birds, we knew otherwise. We knew our greatest freedom was in taking flight at night, when we could steal the heavenly darkness for ourselves, navigating through the intelligence of stars and the constellations of our own making in the delight and terror of our uncertainty." (17-18)
"When silence is a choice, it is an unnerving presence. When silence is imposed, it is censorship." (25)
"Conversation is the vehicle for change. We test our ideas. We hear our own voice in concert with another. And inside of those pauses of listening, we approach new territories of thought. A good argument, call it a discussion, frees us. Words fly out of our mouths like threatened birds. Once released they may never return. If they do, they have chosen a home and the bird-words are calmed into an ars poetica." (49)
"When I proclaimed my history and my sovereignty at the same time, standing behind the pulpit in front of my religious community, even then I knew I was breaking taboo. I couldn't have said exactly why, but I knew enough to know that we were expected to follow an unbreakable pattern through time even though our Mormon history was brief." (55)
"For far too long we have been seduced into walking a path that did not lead us to ourselves. For far too long we have said yes when we wanted to say no. And for far too long we have said no when we deperately wanted to say yes." (114)
I like to think I am descended from birds. I have always yearned to fly and I know that I will someday.
TTW is my favorite author. She is an LDS woman, a feminist, an environmentalist. She writes with passion and conviction. She tells stories that are true. Her writing engages my spirit. I was priveleged enough to here her speak two years ago at the UO after releasing her previous book Finding Beauty in a Broken World. As I sat in the audience I tried to absorb her every word into my mind and lock it there. I was willing her to know that I was there and I too am an LDS woman that doesn't fit the mold. She reminds me that I am not alone and that I am not crazy. Although I have not made and do not plan on making all of the same choices that she has, she validates me with her words. She expresses what I feel more eloquently than I can. She is an advocate for having a personal religion, a doctrine that you and only you abide by and so do I.
Her new book is a personal expression about women, their likeness to birds, their trials, their choices. She discusses life and death in a way that makes them both seem beautiful. I love that much of what she reveals causes me to reflect on my own choices and feelings as a woman, as an LDS woman, as an activist and as a writer. I could never write a book review that could do this book justice or that could convey the power and depth of TTW's writing. Regardless, I encourage you to read it.
Here are just a sampling of the passages that really struck a chord with me:
"If there ever was a story without a shadow, it would be this: that we as women exist in direct sunlight only. When women were birds, we knew otherwise. We knew our greatest freedom was in taking flight at night, when we could steal the heavenly darkness for ourselves, navigating through the intelligence of stars and the constellations of our own making in the delight and terror of our uncertainty." (17-18)
"When silence is a choice, it is an unnerving presence. When silence is imposed, it is censorship." (25)
"Conversation is the vehicle for change. We test our ideas. We hear our own voice in concert with another. And inside of those pauses of listening, we approach new territories of thought. A good argument, call it a discussion, frees us. Words fly out of our mouths like threatened birds. Once released they may never return. If they do, they have chosen a home and the bird-words are calmed into an ars poetica." (49)
"When I proclaimed my history and my sovereignty at the same time, standing behind the pulpit in front of my religious community, even then I knew I was breaking taboo. I couldn't have said exactly why, but I knew enough to know that we were expected to follow an unbreakable pattern through time even though our Mormon history was brief." (55)
"For far too long we have been seduced into walking a path that did not lead us to ourselves. For far too long we have said yes when we wanted to say no. And for far too long we have said no when we deperately wanted to say yes." (114)
I like to think I am descended from birds. I have always yearned to fly and I know that I will someday.
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