Wednesday, March 23, 2011

a room full of strangers



Spent some time today in the employees only break room at a fine hotel at lunchtime. One plastic folding table and a few chairs for all the people that hotel must employ? And yet it was full, but not crowded. We found the last two seats and I had to situate mine in front of the little sink and hope no one needed to get there before I was done gulping down cauliflower curry (only 1/2 an hour for lunch). Directly behind me at the table, a young woman with long, blonde, straightened hair sat completely absorbed by her cell phone, looking like she was trying to escape from everybody (Angry Birds?). A young black man, who we had seen earlier in the lobby emptying the garbage cans, sat across from her, rhythmically bobbing his head to whatever music was coming from his headphones. Across from me, in the awkward extra seating, sat two Burmese women, one of whom had been microwaving a container of rice-and-something when we had come which she immediately took out of the microwave as soon as she saw that we wanted to use it too. I hope it got hot enough. A younger woman sat next to her, eating some kind of salad out of two stacked styrofoam bowls with an un-styrofoam-bowl-like wavy rim. I wondered if she had microwaved something in them at some point that caused them to warp like that (shudder to think of what's probably being leached out of those bowls now). Occasionally, they would say something to each other in a language I didn't understand (Karin?), but quietly. Everyone in the little break nook seemed to have a fear of being overheard, and the place was subdued, a room full of strangers, and me.

Monday, March 21, 2011

26+6=1

photo credit


St. Patrick's Day is a favorite holiday of mine. Mostly it has to do with my deep Irish roots, and, more recently, my fondness for drinking whiskey. This year, we went out to the Blackthorn Pub (such a name!) in South Buffalo, which is traditionally where Irish immigrants would settle, and remains the most Irish part of town to this day. We had some beer and some dinner (corned beef and cabbage for me!) and there was an "Irish" band, who mixed traditional folk songs with "Dream, Dream, Dream" and some crazy song about how the unicorn didn't make it onto the ark and that's why it was extinct now. However, they DID play "Whiskey in the Jar," kind of an unofficial Irish national anthem and I, for one, sang along loudly. I think there may have been some folks who joined me, too. That fulfills a lifelong dream: singing "Whiskey in the Jar" while drinking Irish beer in an Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day. Beauty.

After dinner, we stopped for random desserts (since, in searching "traditional Irish desserts" Mark found things that were made of apples and barley and sounded gross) at Wegman's on our way home to watch The Quiet Man (another St. Patrick's Day tradition) and eat chocolate cheesecake, and drink whiskey and Bailey's. It probably wasn't a good idea to stay up so late on a Thursday night, but it was a grand evening. Let's not forget the reminiscing about our early memories of hearing about "The Troubles" and giving Mark heaps of guff for being British and therefore unable to sympathize with oppressed people and also very likely to get beat up at said pub on said day.

Yesterday was the parade, which was strange because I don't think we've ever had the St. Patrick's Day parade after St. Patrick's Day before. But Buffalo came out in fine style, there were no less than nine folks dressed up as St. Pat himself, along with probably 5 floats of local step dancing schools (which Nikki insisted, as she does every year, that we need to take up). Also, the unions marched, as they always do. We cheer enthusiastically every year for the unions (clever remarks such as, "Yeah, elevator operators! Just say no to stairs!") because they seem to appreciate it most, waving and cheering back at us, unlike the staid firefighters and the fleets of the Ancient Order of Hiberians who always march so stoically, regardless of our vim. Oh well. Also, we decided that next year, as the parade's most vociferous supporters, we need to be in the parade. Really, how hard can it be? Just join the Daughters of Erin society and buy one of those funny white tuxedo jackets and sashes and boom, you're in. Clearly, failure to achieve this goal will mean failure in our life heretofore.

Another year, another enacting of cherished traditions under our belt. I love celebrating with Nikki and Mark (what would St. Patrick's Day be without heckling Mark?!?) but sometimes I wish we had more folks to celebrate with. Maybe we should have tried recruiting some of the Daughters of Erin...ladies??

Friday, March 18, 2011

Morning Moment

Another favorite morning moment: When I stumble out of bed on my non-dancing mornings earlier than I want to, and grope my way downstairs, very first thing, to light the stove to boil water for my coffee. The kitchen is grey-dark, and after the moments of waiting, and clicking, the blue flame bursts into being underneath the kettle, the gas cloud having grown big enough for those first seconds to make it just a little bit scary. I love that.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

"A Dancer's Morning"

For the record, I am not a morning person. Never have been, and it looks like I may never be. Except, when I started my new job, I also started having to wake up at 7(!) in the morning on MWF. That's all well enough, except that TR, I have dance classes that don't start till 10:00. If this were an earlier period of my life, I would absolutely sleep until the last possible minute, roll out of bed, throw on the leotard, grab a portable breakfast and head out the door. But, at this mature new phase of my life, this is no longer the case. I don't want to drastically mess with my sleeping schedule by getting up early some days and sleeping in others. So, I get up on my class days at (almost) the same time as I usually get up for work (hey, I'm new at this).

As for what ensues, well, I have come to find it quite lovely. I roll out of bed, make a civilized sort of breakfast (the kind you eat sitting down, with some kind of table in front of you), tie up some lose ends, make phone calls to other early risers, or maybe just cruise around the internet for a while, and then, when it's time, I get on my dance gear and go. Today, because of the whole Lent thing, I decided not to even look at the computer and just ate my breakfast, concentrating on the deliciousness of the food I was eating and listened to the birds sing. Who am I?

Oh, I know. I'm her:



I don't even want to tell you how much of an infatuation I've always secretly had with this commercial. I think when it started airing, I was just starting to figure out how much I loved dance, and to me this looked like the most idyllic life ever conceived of. Waking up. Sipping Folgers coffee (which just goes to show you how advertising messes with your head because I think Folgers is undrinkable and even good coffee makes me nauseous when I drink it before going to jump around for four hours). The morning light streams in the window. A deep "Welcome Life!" stretch, a few dance steps in the kitchen and then off to a fulfilling day at the studio. Perfection.

I've got to say it...dance class mornings for me are a little like that (until the whole arrive at the studio and execute all steps perfectly with a triumphant smile on your face thing. That, not so much.). I'm not joking, did you hear me before? I was sipping a chai latte and listening to the birds sing! Birds! All I'm saying is, how often do we get to live out something that even resembles a childhood fantasy? To me, this is awesome.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Some words and things


photo credit

At this point in my life, I feel full of frustration. There are sources too numerous to mention, but one of the smallest on them is this blog. The tone is never right! It never feels like me! No matter how much I tell myself I will not feel pressured by the Watchers, I still do! Aaaarg!

But, it is Lent. And, as everyone knows, I love Lent. This year, I have decided to give up watching TV. It may shock you to know that, in spite of not having cable here in the house, I manage to watch more than a fair amount of TV between the graces of Hulu and my Netflix subscription. There are numerous reasons why I chose that this year, which I will maybe illuminate in future postings. But, for now, all you need to know that not being able to watch TV is driving me a little crazy. And, for those of you not keeping score on your liturgical calendars, Lent started on...Wednesday. I am honestly wondering how I will stick it out for 40(!) days(!) of this, but one thing I would like to do is blog more. SOME people think I have grown lax in this space (because I have) and may be on the verge of abandoning it (which I am not, I think). But I'm not doing it for SOME people. I feel like if I hung out here long enough, I could work the bugs out. I could jump the hurdles. I could catch the flying fish (I made that one up). But, I want blogging to be fun again. Maybe it will fail and I will abandon you forever and go back to journaling in private. Maybe it will be AWESOME! But, we'll give it the old college try.

Also, I want to move. I hate blogger. I want a WordPress blog. I'll get started on that. You wait here, I'll come pick you up when I'm done.