Garlic Festival Liveblog I

I was an hour early to meet Michaela so I stopped at The Wagon Wheel for coffee etc.

You can see by the photo that not only am I scratching the bacon itch from Tuesday, I'm also wearing red lipstick.

The glazed donut is frikkin' amazing.

Red Lipstick! And Garlic!

I'm gonna wear red lipstick every day for the rest of this month!

Okay, I probably won't but sometimes red is good for what ails you.

I'm going to the North Quabbin Garlic and Arts Festival today with Michaela. Last time we went it was cold and rainy and muddy and kind of slim on the vendors. There was still plenty of garlic to buy for planting and there were plenty of cider doughnuts. As I recall there was even a guy on those really tall stilts. In the mud. Go that guy! I wasn't disappointed. The garlic I grew from there made me really happy. So, yeah, I'm looking forward to doing it again.

In red lipstick! Charging up the iPhone to take pictures and live blog it! Watch me forget an you never hear about this again.

I Don't Have Bacon

I wanted to write this so I'm writing it here.

I don't want to do my chores.

What can I do to put off doing my chores? I can have toast with chocolate peanut butter on it. I can have more coffee. I wish I had bacon but I don't.

Good Enough

Yesterday would have been Fay's fifteenth birthday. I still can't believe she's gone. 

This time last year was really hard. I won't go into it, I didn't at the time. Things are a bit better now in that I've had time to get used to the changes that have occurred. And then, of course, there's all the new stuff that's happened since then.

Which isn't to say that I'm fine with it all. Things are what they are and there's oftentimes no point in having an opinion about them. It can be hard NOT to have an opinion though. 

I'm finding lately that it's pretty easy to see the utter impermanence of life, of human reality. We're Life's rag dolls. We think we have choices and some kind of control. We can keep telling ourselves that. 

I suppose I should feel grateful for the way summer seems to come through and take things and people from me. It always seems to happen in the late summer. Summer has to be so damned hot and uncomfortable and bossy and take-y. But I should be grateful because it shows me what's real, what's true and I can't get away from it.

Now I just have to figure out what, if anything, I can do about it. More accurately, the best ways to cope with it. Not denial and not closing down. I can try for acceptance but you can't even control that. It seems I can't accept anything till I'm good and ready. I can never tell when that's going to be. People tell you to "let go" but you just can't until all of a sudden you just do. It's such a mystery to me.

Is the only thing for it just to keep bumbling through, doing my best? Probably. I sure can't count on my brain to remind me of all the lessons I've learned over the years. That's for the best too though - a lot of what I've learned is wrong! You know, I just took the wrong message from the things I've experienced. We all do it, poor, sad fleshbags that we are.

Well, now I'll go glue some stuff to some sticks. Why not? It's as good a thing to do as anything else. Then I'll go have cocktails and Indian food with Pete and my friend, Michaela. Sounds good.

A Favorite Memory

This may sound kind of crazy but I used to be a scuba diver. I forget if I've mentioned that before in this blog. It was so long ago.

One of my favorite-memories-for-life is of sitting on the bounding bow of a boat in the water over Roca Redonda in the Galapagos Islands, listening to "Train in Vain" by the Clash on my Walkman, eating M&Ms and watching porpoises leap out of the water. It seems incredible that anyone could have that for a memory but I do.

"Train in Vain" came on my iPod today while I was waiting for the T in Davis Square station and I was brought back to that moment in 1987. The amazing things I've had the good fortune to do.

Back then I was also feeling pretty satisfied with myself because I had chosen not to do the dive at Roca Redondo that day. Chris McFarling, our naturalist guide, had made a big hullabaloo about how challenging the dive would be. He predicted masses of huge hammerheads, overpowering currents and I don't remember what-all else. Wonder whatever happened to that guy?

Anyway, I wasn't intimidated by what he said, I just wanted a day off. Isn't that funny? 

We'd encountered hammerheads before and they were, well, comical. There were two of them. They spotted me and my brother and were so startled that they bumped into each other head-on then took off in opposite directions. Maybe that was a lucky one-off but that was my experience of them. They didn't faze me. Nor the bull sea lions or the overpowering currents. What the hell does faze a twenty-something? Dreams about being naked in class on surprise final exam day for a class you forgot you'd enrolled in is about it. 

I just decided I wanted a day off and I was damn proud of myself for taking it and not caving to pressure of any kind. I was having such a great time up there, on top of the boat and not under water, listening to my music, devouring my chocolate. 

I imagine I probably rewound "Train in Vain" at least a few times so I could enjoy it over and over. That thought reminded me of the old technology and how you had to rewind. You had to wait for the tape to spool back so you could play it again. Not anymore. 

I tell ya, back in my day...

Well the old lady's mind is going for sure. I bet I've told this whole memory here before. Maybe not the part about rewinding. 

But golly gee, you can still take a dive trip on the same boat, the Encantada, today! Amazing!

The folks who went on that dive reported a great dive when they got back but no one was eaten or lost at sea. I sound disappointed about that, don't I? I just feel that in retrospect, the dive didn't live up to Chris' hype. No doubt for the best.

Of course in the Galapagos there are no "safe" dives and no boring dives.

What a privilege. 

It Has Been a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG Time

I am in a really great mood today and it has been a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG time since that's been the case. Long time.

I think it might be the weather. It was forty-five degrees in Cambridge yesterday morning and forty-five again this morning in Vermont. I, myself, am absolutely shocked by the improvement this makes in my mood.

I know I hate summer. I've never liked it, now I hate it. I know this. I just didn't realize how demoralizing it is to me. Joie de vivre completely eludes me in the summer. Without my being aware of it, day to day life becomes about endurance.

That sounds so dramatic. It doesn't feel dramatic when I live it, it just feels like ordinary life. Until it stops and I feel like a bird released from underneath a black plastic tarp. Glory! The sky! The air! I can soar again!

How often do you go through your day wondering "why am I like this?" I do it all the time. (Not just about summer.)

I am very excited about today. I'm going to do laundry and make stuff in my studio. Then I might garden and I might dye my hair. No doubt I will wash the kitchen sink. Maybe later I'll drink some blackberry moonshine and have a fire in the fire pit. These are not exciting things and yet I am so excited.

I hope you all have a wonderful day.

Rumbling

 I had a very helpful dream just before I woke up.

I was trying to catch a train. I was about to get on one of the cars when this dumbass dude tried to hijack the train with me as his number one hostage.

He came up with a gun and was giving me ultimatums. "You can either come with me now and blah blah blah or you can..."

I wasn't listening to him. I was looking at his posture and his gun and thinking, "I can take this guy."

I grabbed his gun and got it away from him. Everyone on the train platform was staring at us. I yelled, "hey, can somebody tackle this guy please?"

Nobody moved. I thought, "honest to God, what is wrong with you people?" I didn't say it though.

Meanwhile I felt the gun become warm in my hand. The dumbass dude said "the gun's getting hot now," as if to imply it was still a dangerous weapon that he could use against me.

I didn't believe him. I didn't care. It was only warm. I didn't know what it would do but I sure as hell wasn't giving it back to him.

Then I woke up.

Waking up exasperated is far better than waking up sad or disappointed or depressed. Exasperation is an active emotion. You do what you want when you're exasperated because you just don't care what the outcome will be anymore.

Drawing at The Field

Here we have Kate, Chris, Liz, Nate and Pete. I have no idea what this is going to look like. It's my first "phone post." I hope you can see the photo alright.

Raincloud

I am in a bad mood today. Quite annoyed with myself.

I'm tired of monitoring my behavior. I'm tired of having an opinion about things I've said or done. I do not want to analyze and grade myself, my thoughts, my actions all the time. Gah! Annoying.

Maybe I'm just doing it today. I'm giving myself low marks. Some days are like that. Those days that you only remember the stupid things you did. Those days that you just want to put yourself in storage in a closet somewhere for twenty years or so. Just turn yourself off and take a break for a while.

These are the days when the escape fantasies kick in. Here's what appeals today: I catch a bus to Tucson, change my name, magically become a twenty-eight-year-old brunette with long wavy hair, a hot bod and the ability to tan, get a job as a sassy waitress and smoke and cuss in the alley behind the restaurant on my break. I'll get big, elaborate tattoos on my right ankle and my left shoulder. No clue what they'd look like though. Incomplete fantasy. I'd drink a lot of tequila.

I think that fantasy appeals today because it's forty-something degrees and rainy here in Vermont today. That's getting old. At least I can do the tequila drinking part now if I want to.

So much for my new attitude.

The Marathon Post

It was a pretty nice day today. The first kind of summer-y day this year that I can recall. I'm looking out the window into the parking lot behind our apartment towards a pretty decent sunset. A woman just walked through the lot in shorts and a tank top carrying something like a cooler. Festive. Barbecue-y.

I thought that today would be the day I finally wrote about this year's Boston Marathon and maybe about the lockdown that followed four days later. This could be a long-ie though so we'll see how far I get.

Patriots' Day, the day the Boston Marathon is run, is an unusual holiday in Boston: a non-drinking holiday. Of course many spectators do drink quite a bit even so. It's just that Patriots' Day isn't a regular holiday that involves a specific celebratory meal like Thanksgiving (wine, beer) or a meal and a series of festive parties like Christmas (Champagne, wine, punch, whatever booze is handy) or exclusively about celebration like July 4th (beer) or almost entirely about drinking like St. Patrick's Day (beer beer beer beer and beer) Officially one celebrates Patriots' Day by re-enacting the first battles of the American Revolution. No doubt some of the re-enactors are also armed with flasks. Maybe there's also some wine in the generals' tents for the sake of historical accuracy.

I haven't done any research but I feel it's safe to assume that most people in the Boston area have some interaction with the marathon on Patriots' Day (a.k.a. Marathon Monday) if only because it passes through some very bustling, strategically located suburbs and through the heart of the city. It cuts off large swaths of at least a few towns for hours.

It's also free, really easy to find and cool to watch. I mean those athletes are so impressive. Some of them are your friends and you can see them go by and cheer them on. And once they've gone by and you remark to the people you're standing there watching with about how amazing that was, it's pretty festive to head into the local pub for a pint. Right? I mean, why not? After all, your car is parked on the other side of the road and you won't be able to get across the street to it for another three hours. Oh wait - you took the T? Well you're probably thirsty anyway.

Pub or no, watching the marathon is a fun way to spend an uplifting chunk of the day outside. Cheering the runners on makes you feel good. Watching people do something amazing makes you feel good. Seeing someone running a marathon dressed as the Old North Church imparts a deep sense of awe.

My friend, Lisa, and I have recently developed a loose tradition on Patriots' Day. She usually has some event to go to later in the month that she needs an outfit for so we go shopping downtown at the Prudential Center. Here it is on a Google map. It's right down at the finish line.

It's a lot of fun to come up out of the T station into an alternate reality of milling tourists, mylar blanket-clad runners, first aid tents, marathon-logoed-windbreaker-wearing marathon volunteers, hydration stations, port-a-potties and school busses filled with yellow bags containing the runners' personal belongings. It's very different from a normal downtown Monday.

This day the scene was no different from any other Marathon Monday. I enjoyed the sights as I walked across the Common and through the Public Garden from the Downtown Crossing station. Lisa was coming from the South End so we texted each other about the crowds as we neared the mall.

The shopping was fun. Low-key. We tried on a lot of perfume. I bought a lipstick. I don't remember if Lisa bought anything. As you walk from store to store sometimes you cross the streets on elevated walkways and you could see runners approaching the finish line a block away or so. We had a delicious fish sandwiches and a Bloody Mary each (she asked for six stalks of celery, clever girl) at Legal Seafoods and parted ways.

Okay, don't kill me but I had to be back in Cambridge for a 3 PM massage. Don't be jealous - just schedule one for yourself. I left downtown at 2:15. There were marathoners on my T car wearing medals, carrying their yellow marathon gear bags, looking very relaxed and satisfied and being congratulated by the other passengers. Everybody seemed to be in a pretty good mood. All was calm.

The best I can figure it, the train I was on was in Cambridge, somewhere between Harvard Square station and Porter Square when the first bomb went off. Our train arrived in Davis Square, where I got off, without incident. There was no hint of anything out of the ordinary as I walked to my appointment.

I had a great massage. Matt, the masseur left the room while I changed back into my clothes. When I came out into the waiting room he looked up wide-eyed from his iPhone and said "Someone's bombed the marathon."

I said - like an idiot - "But I was just there!" It seemed impossible though. Everything was great when I left. Everything was fun and happy and normal. I was just there and it was fine. I couldn't believe it. Matt pulled out his laptop and we watched videos of what had happened. It was so shocking.

Finally I paid him, walked home and turned on the T.V.. For hours - no sound. I mean they were showing the same brief footage over and over again and talking and talking incessantly though they had no real information to impart. There was no point in listening.

I texted Lisa (I didn't know if she'd left when I did - she was fine) and my family in California and e-mailed Pete and other friends and relatives to let them know we were all safe. I don't remember what else I did that night. My journal says I went to the grocery store and cooked food for the week. Homey stuff. I must have Facebooked so I could track my friends and make sure they were okay too.

The next day I took the T as usual to my new day-job. The only unusual part was that there were armed National Guardspeople (some were women) at the stop where I got out. We uneventfully wished each other a good morning.

The next few days were pretty normal until Friday but that's going to be another story for another post.

Now I have to go to bed. I've been waking up at five AM these days so I have to go to bed early. I know I haven't been around here much lately. I've been incommunicative. I've been completely rearranging my life and my mind and my attitude over the past several months. Things are looking pretty good these days. Life is much more fun now. I'm hoping that soon I'll figure out how to reclaim my blogging time - and my blog reading time.

For now, goodnight!

Whine!

A quick, kind-of mini-complaint:

I started running again over last summer. Since this past February I'd been pretty hardcore about running three days a week (doing the program in The Beginning Runner's Handbook: The Proven 13-Week RunWalk Program like I do every few years) alternating with yoga. I'd have the occasional setback where I couldn't run for three or four days in a row and I'd have to start a week or two back in the program but I was up to week 10. I even joined a gym in March and went regularly.

A couple of weeks ago I had my annual physical and it turned out that the small cough I'd picked up two days earlier was pneumonia. Boo! Pneumonia bites! Okay, I only had about three days when I felt truly terrible and then the antibiotics kicked in. I was able to have A LOT of fun even though I was still sick. However I was not able to think much (I guess fighting the infection made my head kind of foggy) and I didn't move my body much for two weeks.

I started running again a couple of days ago, back at the beginning of my program. Week one. That's okay. I figure I can run faster this time. It still counts as the same amount of exercise as far as I can see. My metabolism is keeping up. My cardio's even pretty good. I wasn't sure how it would go after having so much trouble breathing but it's okay.

My poor body is so sad and decrepit now though! My legs ached after the first run that no one should have trouble doing! I did yoga for the first time today and all my nice, formerly stretchy muscles have retracted and I'm all tight again. Sigh.

Gotta keep going though and not be discouraged, otherwise it's not going to get better. At least I get to run again. I CAN'T TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOOOOOOVE RUNNING! Love it. I'll just have to struggle through the yoga again. The yoga bug has yet to bite me. I still do it though because it's good for me. Oy.

So many people have so, so, so much more to complain about than I do. I'm just venting. Sorry.

Not A Snow Day

I was going to blog today about the Boston Marathon bombing. I was down there by the finish line this year but I left before the bombs went off.

Today my city is on lockdown due to the manhunt for the bombers. I hear they caught one of them. There are A LOT of rumors going around.

In our Cambridge neighborhood things sound pretty normal. I hear traffic on the street, construction sounds, garbage pickup, fuel truck reloading. No sirens, no helicopters. Do they not use helicopters for manhunts anymore?

Instead of writing what I was going to write I will wait and see what happens. I expect that whatever happens will not directly involve me. Whatever it is, I hope it resolves soon.

It's a nice, sunny day, already over sixty degrees out. I think I want to have a hot dog for breakfast. Then maybe I'll paint my nails. And stay glued to Twitter, Facebook and Boston.com. We're not supposed to leave the apartment, after all.

Don't get me wrong though. This is not a holiday. This is sad.