Puzzles

As those of you who know me probably already realize, I have become an avid putter-together-of-jigsaw-puzzles while at work. Our latest is a Ravensburger puzzle, which come from somewhere in Europe and are supposed to be very high quality. Anyway, they have descriptions in different languages on the box and I was intrigued that they had one in "US" English and one in "Great Britain" English. Here they both are. I think comparison between the two offers deep insights into the different cultural values. Observe:

GB: Doing a puzzle is a bit like doing yoga exercises...a very welcome relaxation from your daily routine. It is a labour of love, challenge, and light relief all in one.

USA: Doing puzzles is exciting, with invigorating emotional ups and downs. Piece for piece, as you search, find, and search again, your feeling of achievement grows. One person can work on a puzzle--or a whole group. Why don't you make your next party a puzzle one?

Wait, which is it? Is it relaxing, or exciting and invigorating? I guess it depends on where you're from. Also, I think they’re both a very funny way to describe doing puzzles. I don’t know that I would call the “emotional ups and downs” I’ve experienced “invigorationg.”

April Flew

Guys, I have to say, I feel pretty bad about how the blog has been going this month. I feel like all of a sudden somebody has pushed the fast forward button on this month and all of a sudden...yeah, it's pretty much over. I checked. So, here is my fast forward update of the past month. In April, I:

--traveled to Houston and spent and entire week frolicking through my preview of summer.
--discovered a monastery that raised miniature horses
--tabled in about a zillion school cafeterias, spreading the word about services for youth in crisis.
--added a ranunculus to my collection of non-dying plants (fingers crossed!).
--cleaned a beach for Earth Week.
--got the most kick-ass, sexy haircut I think I've ever had.
--visited Houghton to finally see Into the Woods.
--celebrated twenty-four years of me with whiskey, tapas, and very dear friends
--fought "The Man" (actually it was more like "The Women") and tried so very hard to improve what my job was supposed to be
--fought the most epic battle to seek and win a bridesmaid dress.
--composed awesome, hilarious songs with Eric, Jer, and Alicia
--planted five trees (FIVE! yeah. go Earth!)
--saw the Russian National Ballet Theatre perform The Sleeping Beauty
--eagerly, eagerly! awaited the arrival of Real Spring
--and, stuff. You know, stuff. I don't know where all the time goes, honestly. But it's going, going, gone as far as April is concerned. I hope you feel at least a little bit better acquainted with why I've been so absent this past month. Forgive me! I commit anew to checking in more frequently and keeping you in the loop.

S.

Well, duh...

I read this really interesting post on a blog I check in with from time to time entitled synch-ro-ni-zing. It is depressing, but not surprising revelations. Anyone who has actually gone through a writing program could easily tell you that there are many more people out there who feel like they have something to say than there are people willing to sit and listen to what others have said before them. People who's work comes from being opinionated or from having OD on too many fantasy novels, rather than from a well of literary tradition that they've dug themselves with dedicated readership. Lots of writers are just noisy, inarticulate assholes. Hmmm...could I number myself among them? I read books...right? Lots of books. I always wish I was reading more. Maybe that's just a reflection of my insatiability.

Also, as an aside, today is my birthday. When I blow out my candles, I will wish for an incredibly talented, incredibly versatile, incredibly gorgeous dance partner who will waltz (literally) into my life and make it so I never have to worry about going places where there a more follows than leads. Phhhhhhhhh...

S.

Out Walking

Sorry it's been a little while since my last check-in. I was having a technical issue, which is now resolved. In the interim time, work continues to be crazy, but I have briefly escaped down to Houston to visit my family for the Eastertide. Now we're all caught up.

So tonight, while Mom was busy working on Heather's taxes and Heather was busy with a project for school, I snuck out for a walk, enticed by the rosy edge of the storm clouds that have been rolling in and out all day, but were now illuminated by the setting sun. I enjoyed the warm, sweet air so particular to this corner of Texas, softened by notes of jasmine, oleander, and rose. I saw scraps of torn paper strewn over the grass and imagined the epistle of a spurned lover, or perhaps the frustration of a man feeling cheated by the outcome of his tax return. Ever since I got to Houston, I feel like all I've wanted to do is go walking. I thought that was strange until I considered that, in Buffalo, it hasn't really been warm enough to go walking since January. But, even more than weather factors, I can't go walking in Buffalo. I live in a pretty rough neighborhood and wouldn't feel safe going walking by myself in the daytime, let alone at night. In an ironic twist, society has deemed it necessary that I find some male escort to at least give me the illusion of safety in warding off what would probably be male assailants. I have no male escort, but as I have made obvious, if there simply were no men, there would be no problem. Alas, this is not the case. So, no night-walking for me.

But tonight I started thinking back to the circumstances and atmosphere of those lonely night-walks. They were not for pleasure. I felt driven to move, driven to escape from a life that the most rosy description would term confining, and so I would run out as soon as everyone was in bed, starting out with rushed, angry, steps that made my ankles ache, reliving whatever ignominy or absurdity I had put up with that day, and walking until my temper cooled and I gradually went slower and slower until I sunk into a dejected plod. Little toads would peer out at me from the edges of the sidewalks, owls cry their shuddering condolences, bats swoop through their erratic night dances. I was blind to the small beauties around me because I felt so hopelessly trapped in a life I was growing to despise more every day.

So, I suppose I can't help but consider my circumstances improved, even though my new life comes with its own limitations and frustrations. Every life I live, every where I go will, I am growing more and more certain as I attain the wisdom of age. So I guess I'd have to say that I prefer having a reason to wake up in the morning and somewhere to go everyday to the small luxury of walking alone at night.