I forsee...magic.

My skis were still warm from the wax when I loaded them in the car. I leased some boots, Steve adjusted the bindings, and all the rest of my gear has been loaded in a bag since about 2 days after returning from Argentina. Am I ready to go skiing on Sunday? I do believe so.

11 days in

Let's evaluate my January goals. So far, so good. Not perfect, but decent. I've managed to write every night and do a picture & paragraph for each day. The walk/jog/run thing hasn't worked out, but I biked about 30 miles last week, so I think that was pretty good considering. I finished one book and started another. All in all, pretty good. And now a couple of my favorite pictures.

I resolve?

I usually don't make New Year's Resolutions. I just feel so pressured to succeed with generally-unreasonable goals and then explode. But this year, I was very anxious to keep the ball of personal growth rolling. So I have made what I feel to be some modest goals. The catch is that they are only for one month, most of them. If, after a month, I still like them, I'll keep going for another month. If not, it was a month's worth of trying something out. (Some of these goals were taken from/inspired by this blog.) 1) Document every day with one photograph and one paragraph. Pretty self-explanatory.
2) Define one long-term goal and work on it for 30 minutes every day. Writing. Blogging, journalling, poetry, prose, whatever. This round is just going to be about making a habit.
3) Run 12 miles a week. Multiply by 1.5 if walking and by 4 if biking.
4) The 8th Avenue Bibliophages have committed to reading 24 books by the end of the year. Every time we finish a book, we put a dollar in a jar and at the end of the year we each buy a new book and a new books to donate somewhere.
Other plans for the year include reorganizing the whole garage to make room for seedlings, composting, gardening, as a house we plan to host at least one party/dinner/movie a month, guitar lessons, cooking more, canning, finding people to jam with, etc. etc. etc. We'll see how it turns out! Cheers!

BRB

So Anne picked up a shaky me and all the belongings that had been at my parent’s house because, no, I STILL haven’t unpacked from Argentina. Naturally, by this point, I have already analyzed the situation at least twice, which is enough time for me to mourn the loss of my plans to buy boots for skiing the next day and make some “realistic” diagnoses. I come to the conclusion that I am probably losing my mind and a dormant case of Asperger’s is now wrenching its way up through what used to be the fertile soil of normal social interactions. This conclusion is based on the fact that my mind is routinely racing about, oh, a million miles an hour. In a matter of seconds, it would not be uncommon for me to attempt sweeping, while making a grocery list, planning a reunion, remembering I need to write letters, construct a primitive blueprint for a portable chicken coop, and try to remember the lyrics to the song of an obscure Canadian band. I consistently have to remind myself to be present, to go through those little exchanges make like “how is work” or “how is your family”, that I enjoy the company of the people I’m around, and that I enjoy it more when I’m not wondering if “La Bamba” is played GCF or GFC while standing around a veggie tray. I blame the accident on this spacey-ness. What was wrong with me, after all, that I didn’t see that car in time?

I usually call G Dash (she always blogs about people with their first letter and a dash, so I’m K-, but G dash is infinitely more “gangsta”—a quality I value in a blog) in these scenarios. Our conversations are frequently like “that one bag” that has been around for ages, and keeps reappearing at different relatives’ houses every Christmas. We just recycle the same advice one told the other months ago. Thus after several minutes of me blurting out things like, “I’m pretty sure I’m going crazy” or “What is wrong with me” or “it might be Autism”. We enter Phase I—Let Me Remind You about Yourself. This is the phase where the listener reminds the one melting down about basic pieces of their personality that are glaringly obvious to everyone else. In this case, it is the fact that I always have a rough time transitioning from abroad. I tricked myself. Really well this time. I jumped right into Christmas and parties and visits and…and…and. I thought that since I wasn’t angry like I was after Costa Rica that I must be fine. I even suggested to others that a struggle might happen “eventually”, little realizing that I was/am in the thick of it.

We soon moved on to Phase II—I Offer for Your Consideration…The Obvious! In this case, The Obvious is that I made some major life changes while I was away. I changed all my rhythms—menstrual, eating, sleeping, days off, working, resting, etc. That alone is a big deal. Furthermore, something inside me committed, in a no-turning-back kind of way, to living a more sustainable life. This is a limitless idea. Something I could work on the whole rest of my life and never be satisfied, if I chose not to be. (Damn right I split that infinitive.) I shared every minute of entire days, many, many days with people enormously different from myself and there’s no WAY I was unchanged by that. I made a commitment to live my whole life differently, even if I have no idea, mostly, what that means. I just know it will influence how/where/what I drive, what I eat, where I work, what I throw away, what I wear, what I buy, who I date, what lights I turn on, etc. A reader in Portugal could discern that any kind of major change is bound to incite an uprising of glitches elsewhere.

In Phase IIb we discuss another obvious point—I’m an Introvert. That means that when you could smoke salmon on the fumes coming out of my overworked brain, I’m going to withdraw. When I am thinking about a million things, my brain, out of sheer self-preservation, is going to shut down, often at untimely moments. Like when it could be doing things like, oh, noticing stopped cars in front of me. G Dash pointed out that maybe what my body needs is an amount of introspection that I have currently deemed excessive. I think this is true, as part of the picture. But I know that I need to be around people as much as I need to be alone. Which brings us to…

Phase III—And You Might Also Consider. People change! I changed. People at home changed. And coming back, even if I’ve done it before, means going through that awkward process of reconfiguration. Figuring out which relationships still work. Which ones support the changes I’m attempting to make. Which ones can weather the grey area. Which ones somehow are still the same no matter how many continents I go to. Which ones really care and which ones are just nice to spend an afternoon with. I suppose much of this was obvious to everyone around me even before I left B.A. But I’m putting this out there for several reasons. 1) I don’t want it rattling around in my brain. Per my last metaphor, I am already barbecuing, I don’t need bowling going on, too. 2) To explain that if I’m not talkative, this is not necessarily indicative of discontent. 3) If I don’t call, feel free to call me instead, I’ve probably just forgotten about my phone. 4) And to the people who have those open-ended, toss-ideas-around, listen-to-me-rant, or ask-me-questions-about-xyz…may your blessings multiply sevenfold.

F*ck.

It all started with me smashing the front of my car into the back of another car. Why this didn’t happen when I was 16 and routinely driving 20 miles over the speed limit, I don’t know. I wasn’t texting. I wasn’t on the phone. I just didn’t realize they had stopped very suddenly. I swerved onto the shoulder but not before I nicked their fender with my bumper. So there I am standing on the side of the road, looking at the various pieces of my car littering the side, and somehow, I hear Jenny’s voice (how it wedged in through the “oh fuck.” on repeat is beyond me) telling me to celebrate. That snapped me out of my shock long enough to be grateful that no one got hurt (not even Chris Stanley, my beloved guitar), and that at least their vehicle wasn’t damaged beyond repair. I also probably couldn’t have destroyed the fender of nicer people. How often do people exchange hugs at the scene of an accident? Three surreal things that happened:

1) The elderly lady passenger of the other car offered to help push my car off the road, although she was stopped by her daughter reminding her of her bad back

2) The daughter and some random stranger helped me push it off and the stranger parked behind my car till the police showed up since her mom had been “really messed up” by sitting in her car after an accident

3) As we’re exchanging insurance, phrases like, “Wish we could’ve met under different circumstances” and “Take care and have a happy new year!”

Who has the mental and emotional wherewithal to be so present in such a situation? Maybe you have to lead a pretty centered life to find your bearings so quickly after a stressful situation and be compassionate to someone you have every reason to be livid with. I’m pretty damn lucky they showed me grace and kindness when I mostly hear about rage or icy politeness in these situations. To be continued…

89 Big Ones

My badass grandmother turned 89 a few days ago. I'm pasting below an awesome conversation we had on the phone. I post this conversation because it's pretty much the same thing as posting a conversation with myself from the future--deaf, occasionally cranky, but excited to talk to people. Kate: ...yep, I sure had a good time in Argentina. Grandma: Well that's great, honey. K: [knowing my g-ma used to love skiing] Grandma, guess what I got for Christmas? Skis and ski boots! G: Ha! Well, did you get some medicine for that? K: What? No, Grandma, I said I got SKIS and SKI BOOTS for Christmas. G: OH!!! I thought you said you got bit by MOSQUITOES! I fully intend to take a leaf from her book when "getting old" becomes a reality and not just a concept. I plan on swearing less often and at fewer people, but no one can deny the beauty of a well-executed, "Well, where the hell is my cane?!" But the exploring, the never-ending ravenous quest for learning, and a deep unshakable love of ice cream, these are things I can learn from. Cheers to the first 89, grandma, and rock on.

You’d better make a cup of tea if you intend to read this because I intend to blog about the whirlwind that was my vacation ALL in one blog. I hope you can handle it. Right, so we left off with Grace and I being devastated about not being able to trek on the ice. Well, our hostel offered a tour which we woefully signed up for. In the end it rocked our world. A backroads tour, one-on-one meeting/bottle feeding of a guanaco, hiking, and taking a boat right up to the glacier followed by more hiking. We were lucky and got to see multiple enormous pieces of ice fall off and into the water. We wrapped up there and took a flight the next day to Mendoza.

-Mendoza is the wine capital of Argentina, fyi. We got in very late, checked into the hostel and were creeped out by the 3 middle-aged men staying there making gestures about us and the 0 people under 30. So we peaced out of there, stat, and wandered around looking for another hostel. A full hostel hooked us up at this other hostel that was a total refuge for us. And they had a cat. For some reason unbeknownst and incomprehensible to me, Grace named him “Mr. Cuddles.” We got up early the next day, took a bus out to Maipu, rented a bike/map, and headed off. Our first stop was the beer garden which I felt was a nice compromise because I only like wine occasionally but have a deep love for my friend Mr. Beer and Grace is the opposite. (Sidenote, I could have lived at that beer garden, especially since they used earthen building.) Then we headed off to various vineyards and olive/liqueur/chocolate shops. Impressively, we were still able to bike by the end of the day and took the bus back to Mendoza.

-Our last big tourist stop was at Iguazu. Item of note – LAN airlines ran over my pack with a moving vehicle (at least, I reasonably assume this was the case due to the tire tread stains running the length of it) and lost Grace’s luggage which was later returned with part of her wine smashed to smithereens inside of it. Eau de Malbec anyone? Anyway, we rested one day and then spent the next day traipsing about the waterfall, taking a boat into it, and then doing a full moon tour that evening. The waterfall was just as breathtaking the second time.

-We then took a bus to Oberá. We evaluated the a.c. situation and realized the purpose of the air conditioner was to blow sortofcool air toward the front of the bus while leaving us hot and with drippings from the a.c. on our heads. That is the first, and hopefully last, bus ride I spent with a folded scarf balanced on top of my head. We had to take this bus because I SWEAR the ticket lady had told us the bus we wanted left half an hour later than it actually did. Then we transferred to another bus, spending all but our last 2 pesos. We arrived in Oberá with 30 minutes to spare (read here: 10 minutes for Kate to fly by taxi to withdraw money from her emergency fund to pay the 7 pesos to get out to Mama Roja). Luckily we were saved by Reneé who showed up with pesos for bus fare and empanadas for Grace who was at that point “where someone is going to die if I don’t get food.” We also got to say hi to Tania and head out to the farm. -It was, of course, lovely. Looking back, I would have planned more time there. But I enjoyed every last second there. Kim made an AMAZING dinner and lunch. We jammed, talked till the wee hours of the night, laughed hysterically, etc. I said a rough goodbye to Spot 2 which is ever-present in my heart *fist pump to Spot 2*, pirated a lot of files, packed an insane amount of stuff into my bag, and headed into town for a rather melancholy ice cream stop. More tearful goodbyes later and we were at the bus station saying goodbye to Tania, one of the sweetest, kindest people I have ever known.

-Another deluxe bus ride (this time in the very front on top looking out the big front window), we arrived in B.A. with enough time for lunch with Tim tron, another difficult goodbye, a nap at Grace’s hostel, and a long flight home. Of course these are only tiny snapshots of the things that made my mind crack and grow bigger and the flooring beauty in so many varied forms and the funny things and the annoying things and the time when people almost died because we were cranky. But it was an epic trip and one I’ll remember for the rest of my life.