30 March 2016

The Inevitability of Hiking Boots. *sob*

There is true love, then there is a mother's love. While I've never viewed myself as extremely maternal and would be mortified to be classified as a "normal mom", I have found that love for our kids is often evidenced through our insatiable desire that we support their INSANE plans.

Ellie's most trying insanity is her quest for all the Junior Ranger badges from national parks that she can achieve. There are many things to obsess over that I would have happily supported. Perhaps seeing every symphonic orchestra in the world. Or every capitol city in the USA. Oh, I know! Every chocolate shoppe in Europe.....*swoon*. Hell, I'd even take World Heritage Sites.

But no no no no no no. we want to collect shitty plastic badges from national parks. Don't get me wrong; many are beautiful and I have learned a lot of history. It has been incredible watching Ellie become so educated outside of the system and putting the puzzle pieces together on US history, pre-US history, ancient Indian history, and geology. She has timelines running for all four subject matters and does all the activities in the booklets, pulling up the websites for more information as she prepares for each visit. She grabs my researcher's heart every time she does this, thrilling me. 


Sitting pretty at 32 badges and trips planned to get several more this year, I sometimes feel like there can be a light at the end of the tunnel. But disaster follows me.

When I pull into Merritt something or the other in Florida, they say, "oh no, this isn't Canaveral National Seashore; we are a refuge."

What I heard: "You are in the wrong place and it's time to bug out so you can get the stupid badge in the right place asap."

But Ellie goes, "oh, what is a refuge?" 

Terror strikes my heart. 

The ranger eagerly informs Ellie that while they do have a badge, it's not quite the same but that they DO have a book and many trails that they could torture her mother with for alligator spotting. I snatch the book and mumble about an exciting visit NEXT time and we can do the book later....the beaming ranger looks on, knowing she has won. Both completely ignore me as this nightmare continues with bonding over a map of all the animal refuges in the United States.

I stand there helplessly, recognising the nightmare will never end. I will have an incredible well balanced, informed daughter, caring about the Earth and everybody on it ... in hiking boots...forever.

24 March 2016

It DOES Make a Difference


Have you ever thought about complimenting somebody, but decided against it? I have, so many times. I watch my dad compliment everybody and see the results; shoulders straighten, the smiles linger, and the light come into the eye. So why should we keep these positive feelings secret?

Just how much difference it makes really struck me tonight.

I'm in my zone. Bach and spirituals on the cello. Mozart and Schumann on the piano. While I have struggled against the psychology of being ridiculed, judged, and held to impossible standards in music for much of my youth by petty people, the picture you see is my safety zone.

The doorbell buzzes. I instantly freeze as the first thought was that the music filtered through the windows and offended somebody.

"I'm so sorry to bother you ... I'm your neighbor and was just walking by. I just felt compelled to stop and tell you how completely awesome it is to walk through the neighborhood and hear piano playing. It is a gift to us; thank you."

I really don't remember what I said because I was trying to not cry.

It DOES make a difference. Don't ever hesitate to take those few moments and transform somebody's night. Perhaps much more than that.

15 March 2016

The AVL Vote

Example ballot cards everywhere. Stacks more on the table next to the voting room door. People pick them up, look confused, and put them down.

Over and over and over again.

I pick one up, and see the problem. ALL of these example ballots are Republican. Shuffling down the long hallway of 100+ people, for what has been the biggest turnout in my experience, the aforementioned table is reached.

In the middle, carefully taped on all sides, lay the lone remaining Democratic ballot example.

People exclaim "oh here it is!" .... over and over and over again.

If I had any doubts that AVL was democratic to the core, it was soundly erased today.

But which Democrat?

Well, I don't know what North Carolina will do, but I can be pretty certain that our county is Bernie's. Outloud exclamations like "can't we just push a Bernie button and move on???" in the middle of the line are not unusual, and always greeted with a murmur of agreement.

Frankly, Bernie scared me. I consider myself fiscally conservative; however, if Bernie's financial planning is a bad dream, then the Republican ticket is a current nightmare. That was enough to drive me to the Democratic party (previously non-voter), but I still had qualms about a pure socialist in the High Office.

Then I read this article.

10 Reasons Why Conservatives Should Start Supporting Bernie Sanders Immediately

Oh, how it resonated. I was fearful about throwing my vote to somebody purely on the desire, craving even, for somebody with principles, but this afternoon, I had no qualms.

While I remain depressed about the super delegate bullshit, I'm happy to sit in line for an hour to at least provide influence towards a popular vote ... 1 vote at a time.

13 March 2016

My Italian Day

There are days where I miss Rome so much it almost hurts. The old streets. The fresh food to be made each night and sourced from the nearest market. The shoes. Ah, the shoes. The sense that life should be celebrated every day. Also, did I mention the wine?

After days like yesterday where we were tromping around the backwoods of South Carolina the previous day for Jr Ranger insanity (more on this later), I have to fight the urge to drive straight to the airport, purchase tickets at the counter (can you do that any more?), and simply get on the plane. No packing necessary because I can simply get a new wardrobe there. My phone is with me. My passport is with me for just these emergencies. However, next week is a crucial week for cresting the ridge of being fully caught up and even, just maybe able to achieve a mode of proactivity. I'd hate to lose such momentum, so Rome was tearfully abandoned (for the moment) and replaced with "an Italian day".

Select a waistcoat and shoes that would have been perfect in any European city.

Open a bottle of prosecco on the front porch and pretend that the street in front of you is several centuries old. Eat salad for brunch with it.

Read an anthology about butterflies printed in 1945.

Ramble to tea house downtown and write a professional blog post, enjoying "memories of Prague" tea service that involves black Assam, honey, and almond milk.

Enjoy a limoncello cocktail with a panini while killing a whole lot of monsters online (ok this may not be terribly Italian).

Transition to a perfect evening around 8p with Barber of Seville blasting the house, a Tuscan Rosso poured, and risotto started.

Not stupid risotto. Proper risotto.

Not the horrendous way that I once read in an American cookbook that said "pour in arborio rice, a crap tonne of liquid, and hope for the best ... should be done in 15 minutes" .....

No no.

A beautiful blending of flavours with butter and onions, followed by wine and arborio rice until the rice is sufficiently loved and shiny .... THEN, and ONLY then, can stock be added with whatever pairing of veg that you wish. And for god's sake, don't complicate it. Two things. You only need two complimentary veg added to the base. My preference is leeks and shrooms.

After that? Simply add bits of stock (cup at a time perhaps) to allow the veg and rice to eat up the existing stock, watching the arborio expand over 30-40 minutes. Then chuck in some butter and mix in some FRESHLY shaved parmesan, and ....

ambrosia.

Thus, my Italian day.