Sweet Friend

I don't know what it's like in your corner of the world, but thunder storms are raging in northern California. Violent storms. Sideways rain storms. The kind of storm that wakes you in the middle of the night railing against your windows and walls and you burrow yourself further into bed. A week like this, a stormy dark week, might have called for a post about how hot bowls of soup can banish the blues (which they do...many of you already know my feelings for soup), or any other number of modern comforts that soothe. But instead, I am remembering another dark time in my life. Three years ago this week, I came home from my grandfather's funeral to a stormy city, spent nights awake listening to the wind and the rain scratch and scream, thinking about loss and searching for meaning in a life I knew to be fleeting. And also three years ago this week, my parents went to lunch and passed a pet store that was sponsoring some animals from the Humane Society. And there he was, watching the sidewalk traffic, curious and unafraid. When my folks and I went to the pound to check him out, it was clear that this was no ordinary cat. All the others I had seen ran away and hid or nipped when they tired of you. This one strode right up to my mom and I and had me hooked with the very first 'mrow.'

KITTY FACE! Whoa, sorry, I'll get it under control now.

I love it when pets have proper people names. I knew that a cat with such a strong personality needed a name like an old man in a deli, (Saul, Irving, and Henry were all tossed around) and Max was perfect, being my great-grandfather's name and me recovering from a family loss. How this animal has changed my life, I cannot even describe to you here. When I think of how he filled the great emptiness left inside me from loss, I almost lose it. How do you begin to thank someone (and yes, I guess a cat is a someone) for filling my apartment and my days with life?

I don't have an exact birthday for my sweet friend, but a three year anniversary is good enough for me. And I could not think of a more appropriate subject this blustery January night. Especially as he is curled up and snoozing on the couch right next to me.

Courage.

Lately I've been channeling the Cowardly Lion. I am boggled by the amount of courage it takes for the modern American to wake up in the morning, carry all our responsibilities and be all the things we are supposed to be. But the more I think about it, I find that it takes more courage than I ever thought imaginable to wake up and be yourself and accept--no, sprint down--the path your life is taking...I am similarly inspired by this:


I swear to you, the lessons I learn in my garden govern my entire universe. I successfully planted potatoes in late summer--dreamy little blue and Yukon gold fingerling darlings--and couldn't wait to have more. In early December I bought a bag of Yukon golds at the market, cut them into chunks and planted them in every available pot on the balcony (several recently vacated by the end of tomato season). Mostly I wanted to see if I could grow potatoes in the winter, as every garden publication warned against it. This is impossible, said vegetable gardening books in the local bookstore. Wait till the spring, said the garden expert websites.

But nature--the original pioneer--had something else going: Um, no thank you, no, I'm ready for action now. Every pot I planted potatoes in has dear little sprouts like these. Take that, winter of 2010, with your dark mornings and your dew on my windshield and your gloomy nights! I am ready. For life. Now.

Garden Spotlight: Violas!

It is official--I am totally obsessed with my garden. There are days when it's all I can think about. I know which of my colleagues will leave heirloom tomato seedlings in the staff room and I can find every well groomed garden in the neighborhood with my eyes closed. Let's be honest here. A huge reason I started this blog was to have an outlet for babbling on about container gardening, which I am here to tell you is not only possible but righteous.

Case in point--Violas. Edible in the summer, flash of color in the winter. It's a muddy gray winter and I smile every time I glance outside because my violas are rocking the heck out of my balcony with their little purple faces:

Do not adjust the color on your monitors

Hey, lovelies. Come here often?

But this particular viola is the biggest thrill of all...because I planted this little guy last winter. 2009. That's right. The season came and went and I thought it had died. And now, to my great delight, it's back. I stood on my balcony in bathrobe and pajamas like some deranged suburban housewife gawking at the little gem for what must have been 20 minutes. My gloomy gray winter existence came to a screeching halt--that sunny little face peering up at me from the chive planter. Today I looked again, and there they were, sprouts where all the original violas were planted.

Life, apparently, will always find a way to go on.

After school special

I rarely bring grading home --as a matter of principle-- but as it was the first day back after a 2 week hiatus, a stack of Macbeth essays somehow ended up in my school bag. I had a feeling that there was only one thing that would satisfy me--my mom's famous after school snack combination of popcorn and orange juice. I'm talking popcorn made over the stove with a little oil in a farberware saucepan. Waiting waiting waiting till that puh puh PUH puh PUH as kernels ricocheted off the saucepan lid, soft and violent all at once, like watching time-elapsed photos of a dandelion going to seed. Then silence. And a little salt. Maybe paprika. Or Parmesan cheese.


I read once that the area of the brain that processes
memory is right next to the part that receives signals from the olfactory gland--so I should not be at all surprised that the warm, toasty hot oil and popcorn smell flashed me back to doing homework at my parent's dining room table. And then again a flash to college, to writing cross legged at the coffee table and day dreaming out the bay window. Then it all flashes to now, to me with a heap of attempts at analysis and rubrics, scooping handfuls of delicate salted puffs into my mouth and scanning sheets of delicate young words. And somehow, it's not quite so tedious.

Welcome to my blog!

2010 is the year I try new things. This is a challenge for me as I claim to be adventurous but am really a creature of habit. I fight this urge all the time. I like things that are different and new and fresh, but in a way I crave routine. I've ordered the same meal at my local sushi restaurant for 2 years now to the point where my favorite waiter asks, the usual? (Dude, I have a usual somewhere!) Maybe this is true for many others living in this modern time--we have a pioneering spirit, and think not only is anything possible but we can and will do anything that's possible. And yet so often we stick with the comfort and safety of what we know and have done. Anyway, inspired by my cousin, sister, and brother in law (whose blogs I read religiously), I am starting 2010 with something new.