Two weeks of winter

I never thought I'd want my February vacation destination to be just outside of Buffalo, NY. I never knew I would meet a man from Lockport, NY and love his family, either.

The first time I visited was a September, when things are usually cooling off and the leaves are starting to turn color; when they put away shorts and start to wear thin sweaters. When I arrived I breathed in expecting crisp air and instead got a big gulp of heat and humidity. I was prepared for weather in the 60s and I spent my week sweating in my corduroys and hoodies. Looking back, I don't know why I didn't just go to the local store and buy a pair of cheap shorts and a tank top.

Two years later, in 2008, my husband-to-be and I visited in late October to get married in Niagara Falls, NY. It was scarf and long sleeve weather that time but due to the hot, dry summer that preceded, the leaves were still mostly green. One of these days I'll get out there for a real east coast autumn - I've heard the locals brag about those.

After seeing a hot summer (I consider that September "summer") and a cooler autumn, the next logical time to visit would be winter, right? Naturally. My husband and I have talked about moving to the east coast, that dreaded east coast, the place I've always been warned about due to the winters. The place that turns desert dwellers into stone. I'm only considering it because I like his family enough to think it might be ok to have my blood turn to ice for half the year. I thought it would be wise to visit Western New York in the middle of winter to see if I could take it. Plus, don't tell anyone, I kind of like the snow and wanted to see Niagara Falls when it's fluffy with snow and ice.

Fast forward to February 2010. The Farmer's Almanac predicted that the middle 2 weeks of February are typically snowy with temperatures in the mid 20s to low 30s. It just so happened that my father-in-law has a week off from teaching for winter break for one of those weeks. Tickets booked! By another lucky chance, the time we scheduled to visit coincided with the Winter Olympics in Vancouver. I watched a lot of Olympics!

Wouldn't you know that in Lockport NY, they not only have CBC, but also CTV! I was able to watch the Canadian Olympics on a Canadian channel. I was happy that I didn't have to rely on NBC for the coverage. My husband summarized it perfectly with his impersonation of the dialog you'd hear on NBC, "Well Bob, they just need to put the pedal to the metal and pull out all the stops here. This team needs to give it everything they've got and go out and really win that thing!" American sportscasters are excellent at talking without ever saying anything.

What's the Olympics without a little booze? OK - A lot of booze. New York doesn't have government controlled liquor stores like Washington and the prices are unbelievably cheap in comparison. When we first arrived we went to the liquor store and bought $70 worth of scotch, brandy, and tequila that would have easily cost twice as much in Seattle. Oh, and the reason we bought so much booze? The things we bought on our last trip, things we were expecting to still be left-over hanging out in that back cabinet, guess where they went? My adorable mother-in-law, who doesn't drink, decided to mix everything together. She thought since they smelled the same she might as well save some space and mix them all together. Even after relentless teasing from Adam, she thought that saving space trumped him being "finicky about his booze."

I had a wonderful time sitting by the fireplace with a scotch in hand while looking out the window at falling snow. I went for walks in the snow and shoveled the driveway. Even though I was on the opposite side of the country from Vancouver, I felt closer to the athletes as they competed on the snow and ice when I was able to look outside and see the same. I thoroughly enjoyed my little bit of winter. I loved it for two weeks and as I congratulate myself for making it through, I wonder if I could really take it for four or five months. I had no trouble in 20 degree weather but I know it gets much colder! In just two weeks I got tired of the effort it took to get dressed for the outdoors.

Now that I'm back home to an early spring in full bloom, I'm realizing that the East Coast is starting to appeal to me in the smallest way. I find myself looking at the plum tree in the yard and pretending the white puffy branches are covered in snow instead of blossoms. I wish I could have stayed in New York with my in-laws to ride out the long winter and rejoice with them when their trees begin to bud. I like watching them crack open and seeing the blooms peek out, noting how much bigger they are than the day before. It almost feels unfair that I fast forwarded to spring in Seattle and missed that wonderful transition period. I guess that means the next vacation to Lockport, NY will be in the spring!

Speak your mind

I'm celebrating myself with a nice little shot of tequila. I did something tonight that I'm so proud of, something that has been years in the making. Won't you celebrate with me and share my excitement?

I'm generally terrible at speaking up for myself. I've been shy all my life and my nature is to keep quiet. I don't like to speak up and be uncomfortable, but mostly I'm concerned about making others feel awkward. I'll go out of my way to keep the peace, not rock the boat, cause no tension, but I don't like the way I feel about it. Although it makes me want to throw up to speak up, I can tell in my gut that keeping quiet is not always what I *really* want to do.

There's a bumper sticker I've loved from the first time I saw it over 10 years ago. The saying has become my mantra every time I try to talk courage into myself. "Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes." I used to keep quiet rather than speak up because I would be embarrassed if my face turned red, or if I cried. Let me just admit that I am a crier. Pampers commercials make me cry. I operate on high emotions and my body's reaction to fear, anger, and happiness is to cry. Since reading that bumper sticker I've decided that it's ok to blubber through something I really want to say. It still happens sometimes, but lately I've come out of those experiences with only a shaky voice and not so many tears!

Tonight I feel like I had a bit of a graduation into what I've been trying to be. I went to a yoga class through the experimental college offered at the local community center. In the first 10 minutes I knew it was not what I was looking for. It's been a few years since I've gone but I'm more advanced than the class. I felt like I had walked into a class in a nursing home that taught seniors how to stretch. There's a difference between yoga asanas and stretching your hamstrings by pulling on your leg. About 15 minutes into the class I was thinking of a way to get out of it.

I paid $60 for a 6 weeks class and even though that's a good deal I knew I would not be going back to the class. For an hour and a half I considered packing up and leaving and losing my money. Was it worth $60 to avoid a confrontation? As soon as I realized that I could attend 4 good yoga classes at a studio with that money, I knew I had to speak my mind and let my voice shake.

After class I waited for the other 6 people to leave and approached the teacher. In my sweetest voice I said, "Is there a way I can just pay for this class? I won't be coming back." I actually spoke my mind without mincing words; I stated what I wanted and had a clear head about it! This is such a huge deal for me!

I stuck to the point and brought tangents back around to what I wanted to say. She pointed out that she had to thoroughly explain the moves and go slow so new people wouldn't be left behind. I told her I support people learning yoga but because I was past that stage I needed a more challenging class. I think she might have started to get a little defensive and told me that sometimes it takes time to get used to the style of a new teacher. I let her know that her teaching style didn't affect my decision - it was simply too basic of a class. When she let me know that she would not be going over the same asanas every week that gave me another opportunity to get back to my point. That rate of asana introduction was too slow. In an hour and a half we did 8 stretches. I could see that line of conversation continuing and I didn't want it to. I ended it with, "So how much do I owe you for this class tonight?"

It was then that she went about giving me back $52. I kept a clear head and stayed focused on the point. I was able to be nice about it AND state what I wanted. Later as I've been thinking about this, little doubts have started creeping in. "Was that an OK thing to do? Should I have just stuck with it?" I had to remind myself that I was doing something FOR me and not something TO her. It was awkward and uncomfortable and I hated every second of it, but I DID IT! I have made one little step toward living my life for myself and standing up to speak what I wanted. Extra points for me - my voice didn't even shake!

Inspired by a windy Seattle day

Flags snap
Gulls hover over teal water with sharp white peaks
Clouds glide behind dancing trees
Leaning into the wind tasting Puget Sound

And what did Santa bring for you?

I was just recalling a time when my friend's dad asked me what Santa brought me for Christmas. I must have been young enough where it was possible to still believe, but old enough to have a good deal of logic. I sat there and smiled because I didn't know what to say. Or maybe I didn't smile. Likely I had a look of panic and a tense smile that was moments away from turning into the ugly mouth that crumples before crying. I can find the words in writing, but in real life I'm usually stumped. I'd never believed in Santa but I couldn't say that there was no Santa in front of my friend! I didn't want to be the one to spill the secret. I also couldn't tell him what "Santa" did give me, because in knowing that Santa didn't exist I would be lying. I was such an honest kid that I didn't even know how to lie. I couldn't figure out how to say what my presents were without admitting they were from my parents. Finally I said, "I don't know" because I just didn't know what to say.

I think of that often and still wonder what my friend's dad thought of that strange little girl who didn't know what Santa brought her for Christmas.

Happy Holidays! Santa told me that I should say that.

Tasha vs Tasha

I'm having an argument with myself and trying to decide who wins.

I'm lucky right now and have a bit of a dream job. I get to edit and work at home. I don't have to go anywhere, which is awesome since I'm a homebody. I can stay home for days and be perfectly fine. (House arrest would be cake if I ever got in trouble.) I don't have to make fake chit chat or act cheery if I don't want to. I don't have someone looking over my shoulder. I can have bad hair days, my clothes don't have to match, I can talk to myself. I work with cats on my lap. Best of all? I don't even have to get dressed if I don't want to. And that's where the argument comes in.

This is a 7 month contract job that I'm 4 months into and I'll soon be "back to work." This is a much needed break from the "real work-world" and it feels like I'm getting time off. Part of me thinks I should get up early and get dressed every day so it's not such a shock when I have to do that again. The other part tells me I should relax and enjoy what I have while I have it.

Oddly, it just came to me a few weeks ago that I didn't HAVE to get up at 7:30 to start working at 9 or 9:30. I could get up at 8:50 if I want! Who says I have to put on a pair of pants that button when I can wear my pajama bottoms and a robe? I feel really special and fancy when I dress up now (get dressed, rather). Unfortunately, this is resulting in me not feeling so great about myself. I don't like that I feel lazy and unkempt and stagnant. I don't feel attractive. I'm in a rut where now I don't want to bike and I consider myself an avid cyclist. I'm starting to feel flabby and then I feel worse. Hey, let me have another beer and add more empty calories to my diet. Why isn't this enough motivation for me to get out there then? I know how good exercise makes me feel. Why do I feel MORE like staying in my pajamas and not doing anything for myself?

Why can't I thoroughly enjoy working from home AND keep myself motivated to take care of myself? Where's my balance? I wonder if this is how stay-at-home moms feel.

So, I continue to argue with myself while sitting at home in my pajamas, angry at myself that I'm not motivated to get up and go outside, while loving that I can sit here in my pajamas, but feeling ugly.

Cruising in a cruiser

I've never been arrested, but when I was 20 I took a ride in the back of a cop car. In 1992 I was visiting my grandpa in Texas and I was going on morning bike rides on his old 3 speed bike. I'm an avid bicyclist now so I cringe when I look back and wonder what I was thinking - no helmet and no knowledge of road rules for bicycling in the street.

I always thought you should ride AGAINST traffic so you and the drivers could see each other but I ended up with my head breaking a car windshield and a tooth knocked out. Remember the part about no helmet? L-U-C-K-Y me! I was fine except for the tooth.

The cops came, an ambulance came, and I was knocked silly. So silly that the ambulance folks had to convince me to get out of the middle of the road where I was looking for my tooth. I really thought the dentist could put it back together. I know I argued with them, convinced I was right.

I was just a few blocks from my grandpa's house - I had ALMOST made it back - but the bike was so bent up that I couldn't push it or ride it so I ended up in the back seat of the cop car...I *think* I might have asked for a ride.

Now here is the embarrassing part. As I was sitting behind the wire fencing on the hard molded plastic seat of a police car giving directions while silly with shock, I recognized one of the cops as James K from my high school English class. (Did you know the back seat of a cop car was hard plastic and not plush? Makes sense if they have to hose it out. I think I even exclaimed my surprise and slid around for emphasis.) I was the shy girl who never spoke in class and there I was trying to be friendly and chatty with James, telling him I recognized him from high school! "Remember! From Mr. Frank's class? I sat next to you!"

At the time I was kind of put off that he was being all professional, acting like he didn't remember and telling me to calm down or something. When I think about it now from his perspective, I see a crazy bruised and bloody girl missing a front tooth, fingers through the wire mesh, trying to be uncharacteristically chatty and him trying to be cool in front of his partner. I can only imagine the ribbing he must have gotten after they dropped me off. "Oooh, you really attract those crazy girls!" The thing is, I thought he was a jerk in high school.

I hope that's the last time I am ever locked in the back of a cop car. I don't think any other reason for being there would be as funny.

No more splinters

It appears our landlord is going to replace the deck with some of that fancy recycled plastic stuff that looks good forever. This is great news since there are several places where the wood is soft and rotten, there's a hornets' nest tucked up under it, and oh, it looks like shit.

I've enjoyed three things about the deck in the year I've lived here: sunshine, being up high, and peeling the paint. I like to peel paint. Someone years back decided to paint it a terrible pale blueish gray and years of Seattle weather have caused it to curl and peel, much to my delight. I can't describe the thrill I get on a hot day when the remaining paint is soft and pliable and I can peel it like sunburned skin. Oh the rush when a big section comes up!

Today, the first day of fall, was nearly 90 degrees and the paint peeled just how I like it to come up. I'm excited to have a new deck where I won't have to wonder if my foot is going to fall through or if I'll get splinters in my toes, but I'll have to find something else to be neurotic about while I sit on the new deck.