oh, lois

I've been meaning to post this for awhile, but have had such a busy couple of months that my blog is in a rather sorry state of neglect. As of April 5, Lois the cat is no longer with us and I think a blog post in her honor is the least I can do.

I never had a pet before Lois. I don't think Shadow the cat counts, really, since he only lived with us for a couple of months before mysteriously leaving with my dad one day in a haze of scratched skin and broken ceiling panels. Mourn him we did not. But sweet, sweet Lois we do. Anyone who met her can attest that she was a very, very special creature. Will I miss the cat hair everywhere or cleaning the carpet after her rapidly increasing accidents or the funky odor I can't seem to get out of the corner of the room? No. Will I miss dropping a fat stack of cash at the vet's each month for unexpected medical bills and special gluten-free cat food? No. Will I miss not being able to have friends over because of their allergies? No. But I will miss the way she would jump up on the bed to snuggle at my feet every night and the way she would purposefully bump her head on the coffee table and the way she would always sit on the one sheet of paper I would need and the way she would come get me for bed about 10pm every night and the way she would wait patiently at the screen door for me to let her out so we could sit together in the sun.

More than anything, I learned from Lois that language is way overrated (funny thing to write in a blog, eh?). Here was this little being who loved me and who I loved yet we could never speak to each other (though I still catch myself saying goodbye to her when I leave the house). She knew me and I knew her without using any words. She comforted me and I comforted her without any talking. By having a relationship without any language, I learned to listen and to be patient and to not always need to analyze everything to death. I am a better person because of a cat. If that makes me a cat lady, so be it. She will be missed.

post 100 - better be a good one!

And I think it is. Meet Evan.


He is my boyfriend and I adore him. We met last semester when I was his TA - he asked me on a date the minute after class ended and kept patiently asking me out until I finally wised up in mid-March. After officially dating for a couple of months, the vast majority of our pictures are with funny faces or dressed absurdly, which I think bodes well for us. This was taken a few weekends ago when we drove back home with Abbey for the ovarian cancer walk. We jammed more into a 20-hour trip than should be possible: sing-a-long birthday party with Kevin, Yvonne, Dad, and Karen at a piano bar (where Abbey stole the show in a breakout egg shaker performance)... 3 mile walk through Raccoon River Valley Park with Hendersons, Abbases (including Grandma Shirley), Ed & Su and my junior high school friend Mandy... brunch at Hy-Vee with the fam, Adam, Linda, Julia, Yvonne, and her mom... a tour of the city including Sec Taylor stadium and South of Grand... a stop by Karen's parents' house... a nap... a round of card games... and a grilled quesadilla dinner whipped up by a proud papa. Needless to say, he was a hit with everyone and a great sport about the whirlwind Des Moines experience.

He just left today for a 10-week stint in Uganda with a day layover in Dubai. He's on his way to student teach in Kasese, a town of about 50,000 people on the border of the DRC just south of Queen Victoria National Park. He is a great writer (funny, compassionate, insightful... all great qualities, yes?) and I recommend you follow along with his adventures at his blog:

http://peaceloveandpancakes.blogspot.com/

I actually have a plane ticket there myself to visit him after my summer class in London finishes. The more I think about it, the crazier it seems to go, but I will jump at any excuse for international travel. I also wanted to see for myself the people and places that will no doubt be a big part of his life. And I already miss him even though his flight left about 12 minutes ago.

take that, modernity!

i was just talking with a friend about the rising rates of anxiety and depression and how i had heard a psychologist interviewed who claims that the problem isn't those people - it is actually a rational response to how messed up our society is and how much it encourages people to get busier and invest less in each other and think more about themselves.

luckily, my week has been filled with moments that were totally, purely joyful in the best possible sense. and they all had to do with being outside and being with people - just being. (we're not human doings, after all, we're human beings... or, if you ask ee cummings, human merely beings*). i got to sit on a beach and walk through the zoo and hang out at a park and have an awesome interview with a kid and it all feels so wholesome like a tall glass of ice water or freshly baked bread. sadly, there are many weeks when i spend more time watching TV or answering emails ... which ends up feeling like i just drank bacon grease or ate a dozen donuts. or both.

and then tonight, i got an email from one of my Janesville learners who lost her nephew in Haiti's earthquake. his name was Ben Larson and he was there working in a seminary and its orphanage. every article she has forwarded about him is amazing. this most recent one, however, moved me more than usual. i think it was because his idea was so simple and so loving and so grounded in bringing people of all different backgrounds together... what a legacy:

http://www.journalstar.com/news/local/article_16c96788-386c-11df-9fb8-001cc4c002e0.html?mode=story

how easy is that? take an hour and eat with people and talk with them and make soup and share it. get to know your neighbors. walk outside. sit on a bench. that is what spring is begging us to do.

*my favorite poem EVER

Par-tay!

I realize that I haven't posted anything about my birthday party yet, which was ABSOLUTELY TOTALLY AMAZING and likely to be one of my favorite nights ever. Here is a play-by-play:

6:30 - Rush over to Brocach, the Irish pub where tons of family and friends from every part of my life are waiting for me (Mandy from junior high/high school, Ann and Erin from college, Garcias, Swalwells, Dad and Karen, Abbey and Eric, Bobby, etc.)... those poor servers had their hands full

8:00 - Head over to the basement of the Argus where my best friends have helped set up food and decorations... including posters Dad made of pictures from every year of my life - yes, even god-awful ugly pictures like the huge blue glasses I had or the costume that makes me look like a leopard / hot dog creature with a penchant for sequins. You don't want to see it.

8:30 - Start dancing (which doesn't really stop for another several hours) - the band (Tani Diakite & Co.) was a Malian blues band that knocked my socks off. Both Dad and Rob played djembe with them. I was totally impressed with my friends' energy and willingness to dance like nobody's watching. That's pretty much all I did all night... I could have talked with everyone who came, but I mostly just smiled, waved, and kept dancing. The only time I stopped was to hear my dad give an incredible toast to me and our family welcoming everyone (several people told me later that they called their dads that night to tell them they loved them) and to blow out my candles on the GF/DF cake that Abbey had made for me. Amazing.

10:00 - Talk several of my girlfriends out of leaving their boyfriends for Robert given his incredible charm and unbelievably delicious guacamole (said one of my friends the next day: "If I had to choose to go to your party again or sit in a closet and eat that guac, I'd choose the guac").

11:00 - Start an ill-fated drinking contest with Robert every time the band leader says "Thank you!" ... let's just say that whenever I heard some say "Thank you" during the next week, I tasted gin and tonic.

12:00ish - Pack up and head home after the band finishes its grand finale. Best part of the drive home is Eric getting pulled over and being issued a ticket. The streets of Madison were so much safer, let me tell you. I have no doubt in my mind that Eric was the most sober person driving in Madison that night. It was ridiculous. I'm mostly just impressed that Rob and I kept our mouths shut. Eric, of course, was a perfect gentleman to a very misguided traffic officer.

6 am - Realize how bad an idea it was to get involved in a drinking contest with Robert. I realized this on half hour intervals for awhile, actually.

8 am - Get up with Abbey, Eric, and Rob to go over to the hotel so we can say goodbye to Garcias, Swalwells, and my Dad and Karen... I think I should win some sort of award for being able to actually accomplish the movement needed to do this. It was slow going, but worth it.

10 am - Rob makes me a delicious breakfast, we nap, and then drive to Milwaukee so he can catch his plane with a quick stop at Jamerica for a snack. What an incredible weekend.

Everyone who couldn't be there was definitely there in spirit. And I'm pretty sure I'll hire this band again for my graduation party... though instead of drinking gin and tonics every time Tani says "Thank you", I think I'll just give high fives.

Spring Has Sprung!

Aren't these pretty? The vase is from Karen - it's this cool ceramic pot with holes for each stem on the top. Red tulips are my favorite for it so far. I bought them to celebrate spring which has clearly sprung in Madison (I wore sandals and a cotton skirt yesterday! with no coat!) as well as to jazz the place up a bit since I have a roommate for March and April. Alice is from London and is a visiting scholar who needed a place to stay - since I'm hardly ever here, I offered her my spare room. Lois has welcomed her by peeing in several spots on the carpet, which is so generous of her. Sigh.

It's great having somebody else to come home to and cook dinners with. The accent is getting to me, though - I've started saying "Hiya!" in the morning like she does and reading everything I type with a British accent. It's weird, I'll be the first to admit. So far, it has shocked her how big all of our jars and cans of things are at the grocery store, how quick people are to abandon coats and shoes once the temperature breaks 50 degrees, and how Americans take doggy bags home with them from restaurants. Her favorite things about the US thus far, however, is reading the headlines on weather.com every morning: "Storm Shreds Northeast!", "Cyclone Slams Fuji!", "Temps Crash In Denver!" "They all sound like tag lines for horror movies," she remarked. She's right.

High Times In Evanston

I've been very delayed in getting up any posts - whether as gratitude logs or just a general recap of what's been going on lately. This lack of documentation is mostly due to my Chicago routine: Monday teach in Madison, Tuesday morning drive to Evanston and take the train into the city, take the train into Lincoln Park Wednesday and Thursday and Friday, Friday night drive back to Madison ... and then do it all again with a few weekends in Janesville thrown in for good measure. Lots of singing to music and car dancing. And no speeding tickets... yet.

I actually like the commute and kind of appreciate having parallel lives in these two places. It's also been great to get a taste of living in Chicago... which I looooovvvve. I'm actually not too crazy about Evanston, but am open to that opinion changing as the weather gets nicer. I'm only a few blocks from the lake and can't wait for the spring thaw for walks and jogs along the shore.

Here are a few of the recent highlights:

There's a cupcakery just a few blocks from my research site that serves (drumroll, please) gluten and dairy free cupcakes. Are you kidding me? Yes, I will give you $3.50 to taste the most decadent, rich, unbelievably scrumptious goodness ever. And yes, I will walk as fast as I can to sneak one in between classes. Almost every day. I also just stumbled across a gluten-free cafe in Evanston with the best bread I've ever had (no sugar - agave syrup instead and sprouted gluten-free grains... so nourishing). I also treated myself to a carrot muffin AND devoured an entire piece of GF/dairy-free cheeesecake in the four minutes it took to drive back to my place. It was not my proudest moment, but one of my most delicious.


This is the view from the living room at the condo where I'm staying. It's truly breath-taking and every sunset has been better than the last. I need to stop taking pictures with my phone, though... the reflection of a huge digital clock doesn't really add to the aesthetics.


This is taken (from my phone camera... not too shabby!) on the L tracks near the Fullerton stop on the Purple Line. More than anything else about Chicago, I love taking public transportation. First of all, no nap is quite as good as a train nap for 15 minutes in the middle of the day. Secondly, trains are the best place ever for people watching. You just have to remember that you're being watched, too.

The Big 3-0

I have been telling people I'm 30 for about 6 months because I was so excited, so February the 5th wasn't necessarily super-monumental. It was, however, still my birthday and I was missing my mom more than usual that day. On the early train ride into the city, a young man sat down next to me. He was adorable - picture Nick Cannon in a winter coat on the El.

I felt like he wanted to say something to me, but this is the rush hour commute. No one talks. They are professionals. He smiled at me, though, with the kindest eyes and asked about whether the purple line route would change in the upcoming budget cuts. We started to chat and he was incredibly warm and friendly. I learned about his job (investigating corruption charges for the Elections Board), his time in the military (a tour in Afghanistan), and his childhood (on the South side). We introduced ourselves and I told him that it was my favorite ride into the city yet. It wasn't until I was walking the block to the bus after we said goodbye that I realized it was the kind of heartwarming, genuine interaction my mom had with people all the time. As I got on the bus for the last leg of my commute, I smiled and got a little choked up thinking that maybe she had sent Darrell as a sign that she's with me on my birthday. As I thought this, I looked over and a school bus pulled up alongside us. The kids were laughing and singing and totally oblivious to the adults across from them. The one little girl across from me had a heart drawn into the dust of the window. I got a little choked up, but totally lost it as the bus pulled forward and one dust-heart became dozens (30, perhaps?) with the word "MOM" written smack-dab in the middle.

Yep. I cried on the city bus. And I cried about five more times that day just thinking about it and thinking about my wonderful mom who I miss so very much. As excited as I am to turn 30 (see ya, 20s) and as excited as I am for my birthday party next weekend, that day has become the day I mourn my mom the most... and that's not necessarily a bad thing, especially when I have special moments like that.