Sunday, December 28, 2008

where books go to die

i have always loved reading. i don't have a discerning eye for books, i just devour them. i read way too fast and miss a lot, just following the plot. i want to know how it ends, what happens, who lives and who dies. i have a laundry list of favorites - everything from faulkner to mrs. piggle-wiggle; steinbeck to mcmurtry. i read Harry Potter. i read War and Peace. i love books.

recently i've noticed a trend. when there is a book that i am not ready for, or just can't seem to finish, it ends up on the floor next to my bed. at first it started with James Herriot's All Creatures Great and Small. it isn't because I couldn't get into it, it's because Dan and I were "reading it together." yeah, shut up. we read to each other. but with long work hours and multiple vacations, we can't seem to get in more than a chapter a week. so began the bedside stack.

next, i read a fantastic book about China called Wild Swans. so i bought the companion Mao. i read four chapters, and they were all great. but i was stalled. maybe by Harry Potter? not sure. but Mao has been keeping Herriot company since last winter.

after these two made their homes at the bedside, suddenly Fiasco (should I even bother now with the election?), Reading Lolita in Tehran (I should probably read Lolita before reading Reading Lolita), One Hundred Years of Solitude (I was supposed to have an online book club, but got sidetracked by pulp fiction), The Know-it All (I know everything already), and The Canterbury Tales (saw some performed and thought it would be a good idea to read the tales that we saw in the theatre) all ended up stacked in a little pile next to the bed.

now i'm reading essays by Freud and Jung for my next master's class. will i ever get to start again on the stack? do i want to? there is something about these books that makes me not want to read them at all. either they're not worth it or the bedside is where books go to die. maybe if i put them on the bookshelf again they will have a whole new appeal.

Friday, December 19, 2008

kill the wabbit

shhhh....i am wabbit hunting....well, maybe just digging out its little hard kidneys and wondering aloud whether all lung tissue is so silken-tofu-esque. we went to a little farmer's market in one of the country village halls and this actual British farmer, wearing his three-piece, pea-green wool/tweed suit, was selling fresh rabbit and pheasant that he catches or shoots on his family farm.

of course we bought one. we brought it home (already skinned, beheaded, depawed, and disemboweled), and I took out the organs, poked at them a bit, chopped the bunny into meaty pieces, and cooked it up for dinner.

why? well i had a girl i knew from college come stay for a few days and spent the summer working on a small farm in Wisconsin. she was telling stories about milking goats, chasing raccoons out of the sweet corn, and killing chickens. i got to thinking, even though half of my family hunts and fishes and i have friends whose livelihood is farming, i have never really had much to do with the food-to-table process. i'm not particularly soft-hearted when it comes to killing Bugs and Daffy, but i get all teary when Bambi is hanging upside down in my garage. does that stop me from devouring the venison salami? no way.

after we'd been chatting about it, we came upon our little flopsy friend and i thought, what better way to begin an education than to start small? i wasn't grossed out, really (big surprise for me), but i didn't really like the smell/taste of rabbit. coincidence? not sure. maybe i'll try to "clean" a quail or chicken next, food i know i already like. or actually pay attention next time Ol' Red takes me fishing. or even grow more than basil and oregano this summer. knowledge is power. next thing you know i'll be teaching myself how to knit!

as an aside, the farm that cassie worked on is part of the "community supported agriculture" movement. if you like farm-fresh veggies, eggs, honey, and a variety of other goodness, google "YOUR CITY" and "CSA" -- for about $25 a week you get a box of fresh-off-the-farm veggies delivered to some central pick-up point (generally 22 weeks during your local growing season). although i generally have a fine time with my Tesco and market fruit and veg, i have to admit the prospect of having fresh-from-the garden tomatoes, sweet corn, and a reason to try rutabaga and fennel, is pretty tempting.

maybe this year i'll say 'yes' when the local milkman makes his annual rounds.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

guilty by reason of

do you judge people? i totally judge people. i am probably judging you right now. i also dish, gossip, vent, share. you do it, too. don't lie. it feels totally normal, sometimes bad, mostly normal.

spending time with friends includes some dishing, gossiping, venting, sharing, and judging. judging ourselves, each other, other people. it is interesting. my friends (i.e. "you") are so different in personality, habit, and beliefs, but so similar in values. we can discuss my spiritual neutrality or my lifestyle, and argue over whose position is 'right.' it can get heated. you people have convictions, you may even judge me. and that seems ok.

the part that makes it ok for me to judge and be judged is because we trust each other. i have complete trust that your judgement, guidance, worry, and advice comes from your wanting to help me have a better life, be happy, even make the world a better place. you might only have had me do it differently because you could see how doing so wouldn't have hurt me. you want to protect me. you want to make it better, easier, for me and for those around me. we want happy! and once it's done, you are right there ready for the next conversation, taking what we've learned and using it to help each other navigate. at least that's how i use the term: to judge, pass judgment. get the verdict, hear the advice, take it or leave it, and move on. together.

rarely do i judge and sentence to life. it is fleeting. a quick "i would'a" and "why." most of the time the conversation itself leads to a better understanding of the person, the decision, and maybe even a change of course. sentence suspended for lessons learned. and maybe i still disagree, but that doesn't mean we can't still get along.

why the blog, then? i was just thinking about how much trust this friendship thing takes. how much you have to trust that the friend is on the same page as you are. know the laws. the procedures. and the optimal outcome: mutual support and life lessons learned.

what happens when someone judges you and you aren't ready for the verdict? can i make an appeal? i often accept that it's my own insecurity and uncertainty that is causing the feeling of 'being judged' while the other person is simply trying, and failing, to help or share. or their certainty makes me (uncomfortably, but necessarily) reassess my own beliefs -- are my beliefs as solid as i thought or do i need to adjust? in all, the judge is probably trying to help. i will always give the benefit of the doubt. it is faith in friendship.

but when is it time to tell the judge that they're breaking the law of trust? i've trusted you with my feelings, lifestyle, choices, habits, and now your judgement is hurting me? you are questioning the very fundamentals of my life based on your own perspectives without any hint of trying to understand them. or maybe you do understand completely, but are still quite certain it is your right and duty to point out their weaknesses. my weaknesses. and, hell, maybe the judge is right! the civil rights activists were right to pass judgement and take action against racism, right? but between friends that law of trust doesn't need to be broken. taking cheap shots at my personal foundation doesn't sound like friendship, or even judgement. it sounds like righteousness, which goes hand in hand with insecurity itself.

Monday, December 1, 2008

einhorn and finkle, finkle and einhorn

after studying spanish for four years in high school, i am pretty comfortable traveling to western europe. i can barely get by in spain, i can read the menu in italy, and if you say bonjour to a french person he or she will be 30 percent more polite. but, polish! that was a laugh! try saying this in polish: wroclaw. (vrohtz-wahv). riiiiiiight. dutch. nope. and then german, no way.

in switzerland the national languages are german, french, and italian. i thought i had a good chance of things going my way. not where we went. it was all crazy german words that i'd never heard of. the voice on the train would announce the next stop: "nachste stade zurich." one of the stops was "Blllaaaargh," at least that is how they pronounced "Baar." luckily phil, cissy's BF, took german in high school, so we had some balance on our team.
we abfahrted england on monday afternoon and flew to zurich. the next morning, we took the ever-so-efficient swiss railway to the charming town of luzern (or lucerne if you speak french, which they didn't). it was freezing and cloudy, but with buckets of melted cheese and swiss beer and wine, we were prepared for a disappointing trip, weather-wise, but good company to balance it out.

we toured the charming city center, ate fondue aboard a boat, slept in a jail, and learned that einhorn literally means one horn. one of the best things about cissy is she's a dictionary of random song lyrics and movie quotes, so when i busted out with the einhorn and finkle, she was totally on top of it. it was aaaawwweesome. (sorry 'bout your car). it's like having someone who can speak my language, only more fluently. (what the deuce?). hahaha! ok, back to the weather...
the druid gods of stonehenge and the swiss gods of chocolate must have had a conference and decided that we were A-Ok. on wednesday morning we got our first glimpse of a swiss alp. a real alpine peak. we furiously (side by side) took photos through the windows of our train from luzern to interlaken as the clouds passed around the peak of what we think was Pilatus. and it just kept getting better.

valleys, lakes, alps, chalets. it was the land of christmas cards and gingerbread villages. we showed up in the famous alpine resort of interlaken and after lunch, took a train, a gondola, and another train to our town of murren high up on the cliffs of an alp where we slept in a mountain view room at 5,000 ft. it was the off season, so there was, literally, one hotel (ours), one restaurant (yummy), and one taverna (convenient) open for business. we were four of about 10 tourists in town. a winter wonderland all to ourselves.

on thanksgiving day we ate a great continental breakfast and took the TRAIN to the "Top of Europe" station at Jungfraujoch. a train station at 11,333 ft. above sea level. and there was barely a cloud in the sky. that's what i call tappin' the rockies.

as i looked over the alps toward germany, the sun glittering off the snow, with the -10 degree wind blowing in my face, i thought, "damn. i am freezing. if it weren't so cold up here, i could reflect sentimentally about all the reasons i am thankful this thanksgiving day as i look upon this glacier."

but i didn't. i ran inside when my camera threatened to freeze. ate a hearty sack lunch. took more photos. drank more Lager Hell (light beer). and headed back down the mountain. it was amazing. really amazing. we then toured the Lauterbrunnen Christmas market where they were giving away free mulled wine -- now there's a true reason to be thankful -- and spent another night in murren.
more touring the next day to see some cows in a traditional swiss town, and back to zurich for cheese shovels, beers, and some sweet accordion music. it was a fantastic thanksgiving week and i'm so glad that cissy and phil could join dan and i on our turkey day trip.
ciao, bonsoir, and auf wiedershen.

not your average henge

i've heard so many neutral, if not negative, things about visiting stonehenge. it's small. it's unimpressive. it's lame. it's a letdown. well, i liked it. so there.

we took a day trip, so we didn't have to sit behind the wheel for the six-hour round trip. that definitely helped. maybe people who live close to stonehenge like it better because they don't spend all morning sitting in traffic on the M25 trying to get there and then not being able to have a pint of beer in salisbury before making the three-hour trip back to suffolk.

on the way there, it snowed. it rained. we were stuck in traffic for an hour. a baby cried. the heat didn't work, and then went on full blast. but by the time we got there it was the middle of a dramatically brilliant sunny spell with an icy winter wind that made me happy to have worn my hat. it was a beautiful sight on a beautiful day with good company and someone else to drive us home so we could enjoy a pint in salisbury together after seeing england's tallest church spire.

at around 5,000 years old, this is my oldest european toppled stone columns yet.