Daffodil watch 2013 is on, and we’re seeing some progress.
To me, this is a MUCH better harbinger of Spring then some sharp toothed ol’ rat seeing his shadow.
Behold!
I can hardly wait for that explosion of deep buttery yellow! Hooray!
Image Copyright 2013, Karen Fayeth, and subject to the Creative Commons license in the far right column of this page. Taken with an iPhone5, the Camera+ app and very sleepy eyes.
Here we are already in the second month of this crazy New Year. I’m not sure I’m even over my New Year’s Eve hangover and here it already is February.
So to honor the shortest month of the year, I’m going to borrow from a couple of my own previous February posts.
First of all, my cross-cultural thoughts on Groundhog Day. Seems not all the world has an annual rodent pulling day:
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From the post titled “You Do What, Now?” originally posted February 7, 2011.
My boss has a sense of humor about to the level of mine, so lately we have this ongoing riff.
It goes something like this:
Boss: “So, what is this, um, let’s see what do they call it…yes, this day of groundhog you people celebrate in the US?”
Me: “What, they don’t have this holiday in the UK?”
Boss: “I don’t think so, what is this all about?”
Me: “So, wait, you’re telling me that in the UK they don’t pull rodents out of the ground in order to determine the extent of winter?”
Boss: “Not as such, no.”
—————-
Really, how do you explain Groundhog Day to someone who doesn’t understand?
Hell, I don’t even understand, but my personal confusion not withstanding…
When the poor burrowing rat, Punxsutawney Phil, had bright lights shined directly in his sleepy eyes yesterday, he did not see his shadow.
I guess that means we are game on for an early Spring.
I’m totally ready.
I love this time of year. Spring makes me so utterly happy. It’s all full of fun and color and happy expectations.
Here’s some thoughts on February:
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From the post titled “An Ode To The Shortest Month” originally published January 18, 2011.
The second month of the year. The shortest month of the year.
February is a beautiful month.
In February, winter is not quite over, but spring is not quite here. In February we start to see the brilliant yellow of blooming daffodils against the monochrome hue of stormy skies. Daffodils are the harbinger of warm sunny days to come. They give the cold body hope.
I believe the daffodils and tulips and the snowfall of Cherry Blossoms in February are meant to keep us going like the carrot at the end of the stick. The “something wonderful just around the bend” that helps the human soul stay willing to endure the cold and damp days that are yet to be endured.
In February, Punxsutawney Phil, pokes his burrowing animal’s head out of the ground and lets us know the score. The planning can begin.
The ground begins to thaw. Birds start to think about coming back this way. There is hope.
Heck, February is also the birth month of at least three of my favorite people (wait, four! Just thought of another).
I’m looking toward the second month of the year with a not-so-secret anticipation.
So I will get all poetic and speak of daffodils and warm days.
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Speaking of daffodils, I optimistically purchased three bunches today. Their buds are closed up tight and I am not sure they will find a way to break free. Only time will tell.
For today they tell me, “not yet…but soon”.
Sort of the same message that February has for me.
I feel, dare I say it, optimistic.
Hope springs a daffodil.
Photo Copyright 2013, Karen Fayeth, and subject to the Creative Commons license in the right column of this page. Taken with an iPhone5 and the Camera+ app.
Thanks to the folks who dropped me a note to ask where the heck I’d wandered off to and when the heck I would get back to blogging.
You make my heart sing. You awesome wild things.
It’s been a nutty week, wait…has it really been a week since I posted?
Yikes.
But here I am back in the comforting arms of My Fair New Mexico and all its glory.
And so, as Michelle correctly guessed in the comments of my New Year’s Eve posting, I have a new job and it’s all VERY exciting.** It’s a big move for me and it was tough decision. I think it’s the right move and I couldn’t be more fired up.
As though a sign from the heavens, today I discovered that one of my coworkers on my immediate work team used to work for the State of New Mexico. He is not originally from there but lived in both Santa Fe and Albuquerque for several years.
When this came to light, we had one hell of a downhome visit here at the new office. I’m a little spun around by this new job, even just two days in, and so it was completely comforting to talk about New Mexico with someone who understands. So many coworkers in California who don’t know, don’t understand. But this one does.
I’ve already offered to bake him biscochitos and we’re planning how to get some green chile up in this place of employ.
And speaking of New Mexico, I’d like to share my new badge photo with you because, honestly, I think it took the roots of my raising to get me to this point.
Here we go:
“I will cut you”
When I first looked at it I thought, “I look like a bad ass.”
Heh.
I look like a BAD ASS!
Yessss!
When I showed it to my husband, he said “I like it, it’s sassy.”
I said, “It’s not sassy! That face says ‘don’t mess with me’”
He said, “Yeah, I’d mess with you anyway.” — Which is why he’s The Good Man and stuff.
When I showed it to my best friend I told her that The Good Man said, “it’s sassy.”
My El Paso born, raised-on-the-border friend said, “Um, sassy in a chola way.”
And then I was super happy.
I’d like to think I learned from my chola sisters in my early years. They taught me a lot of things, including burning the end of my eyeliner with a lighter and how I should take my earrings off before I get in a fight.
Life lessons, really.
Ok, to be totally upfront and honest, the look on my face isn’t my inner bad assitude finding its way to the surface. It’s really just me looking at the weird badge office set up and thinking “which of these two different cameras are they using? Where do I look? What is going on back there? Do they really know what the hell is going on and when are they going to…oh damn…they took the picture.”
Badge office confusion converted into “I will cut you” is ok by me!
Rawr!
**Michelle also guessed I was either pregnant or adopting. Nope and… : shudder : Thanks for keeping me on my toes!
Sometimes, you have to revisit your demons to understand how far you’ve come in the healing process.
Originally posted August 17, 2011
Ok. I’m going to be strong here. : deep breath :
They say that talking through your feelings after a tragedy helps lessen the pain. I’ve kept this pent up inside for almost a week. I thought I could feel better. I thought I could forget.
But the nightmare. Oh the pain. It continues.
So I think it’s time I opened up and discussed my feelings. I need to get closure.
This is going to take all my courage.
Here we go.
Last week, it was Tuesday, and I was at the ballpark with The Good Man and some of our friends.
It was a clear, warm August night. The San Francisco Giants were playing baseball against the Pittsburgh Pirates, and the crowd was full of anticipation.
My vacation was just beginning and we couldn’t have asked for a better night. A cool breeze played over the outfield and the laughter came easy.
It was the middle of the fourth inning. The Pirates had been sat down and the Giants were up to bat. No hits in the game so far, so I decided to get up from my seat and use the ladies room.
Evidently I wasn’t the only one needing a stretch break in the 4th inning because the line to use the ladies room was really long. But the line moved fast and thankfully, I was able to get my business done and get out of there.
Feeling a growl in my tummy, I walked the length of the third deck of AT&T Park to find a vendor with the shortest line. No luck this night, the food sellers were hopping.
So I just got on line. All you can do is wait. I had nachos on my mind. If you go to the right vendor, they’ll serve you up this tray with two reservoirs. One holds cheese. One holds salsa. Chips line the middle. It’s perfection in a non-recyclable plastic rectangle.
The key to this whole delicious thing is the liquid cheese dispensed from a cheese machine. The nice lady behind the counter pushes a button and cheese comes out.
When the cheese is flowing, you know all is right with the world.
I waited in a long line while some dude in the front bought eight thousand hot dogs and had to contact the International Monetary Fund to get the transaction done. I watched the game on the in-house monitors.
Jeff Keppinger doubled and the waiting crowd sent up a cheer.
Still, I stood in line.
What got me through the drudgery was the thought of the ballpark nachos. So happy. So good. Cheese AND Salsa? Can it really be true?
Finally Hot Dog Boy walked away and the line moved up. The next guy only wanted a beer, and was done fast. One more step forward.
But wait. Something was wrong. Something was amiss.
Something was…out of order.
I noticed one of the ladies who vend the sweet mystery of life that is ballpark nachos was holding a big silver bag and wringing the life out of it.
She was extracting every last morsel of the orange cheesy goodness.
And then I realized. The truth came to roost.
The Cheese Machine had gone offline.
Oh dear god! The humanity!
What will become of us? What can be done?!
I saw a guy come out from the back to install a new bag of cheese into the machine. Then I heard a lady tell someone “It’s going to take a few minutes, the cheese has to warm up.”
I panicked. What should I do?
You are never prepared for an emergency when the terror strikes. These type of situations call for clear, calm thinking.
I considered moving over to another food vendor, but the lines were outrageously long. I’d only have to wait and wait for the dispensary of another cheese supplier. And what if THEY ran out too?
No. Now was the time to be a grown up. I had to become Zen. I had to stand my ground. By god I’d wait for that freaking fake cheese to warm up.
The minutes ticked by at an utter molasses pace. I couldn’t watch the game I was so heart rended by the fear and worry I had. What will become of the nachos?
Finally, after an eternity, I saw one of the vendor ladies tentatively try the button on the now silent machine. Sweet molten cheese flowed like lava from an active volcano. The night was saved! The cheese rides again!
The crowd parted and I stepped right up to the register. “One nachos, please, the kind with both cheese and salsa.”
“That’s a deluxe nachos,” the Goddess in a Green Visor behind the counter informed me as she filled the reservoir with the sweet fake orangey manna from the gods of processed cheese food.
She even gave me a swipe of cheese across the top of the chips.
Yes. Deluxe. My destiny.
I paid the tab and turned away, comforted by the crispy cheesy salsa-y treat.
I vowed to eat every morsel, my spoils in the victory over the thronging masses that night at AT&T Park.
I am a survivor. I am stronger than my fears.
I grew up a little that day.
Image from The Fun Ones.
Hello to the last day of 2012. Yes, today is the last dance. It should be a waltz, I think. A symphony of memories in three quarter time.
The past 365 days have been one hell of a ride. As the old saw goes, you tend to remember the bad things and forget the good. Uncharacteristically for me, when I look back on 2012 all I can remember is the good.
I worked my tail off this year, but I also got to make my first, second and third international journeys. I have emerged from those experiences a changed person. Changed for the better, to be sure.
I suffered the worst bout of writer’s block I have ever known. I’m still not quite over it, but through this block I learned to appreciate the art and craft of writing so much more. Suddenly I have to work a lot harder for every word I put on the page which makes me love every word that much more.
And after year’s worth of rejection letters for my stories and essays (well over 100 emails or paper letters saying “no”) I was finally rewarded by having an essay published. I didn’t think my essay full of hard words would find a home, but it turns out the editor of literary magazine Wild Violet saw something in it that worked for her and her editorial schedule. Boom, I was in.
I have much gratitude to editor Alyce Wilson for publishing my words. It is a beautiful feeling of satisfaction and it makes me want to work that much harder so I can have this feeling again. My next round of submissions went out just last week. May my words take flight in 2013.
The Good Man and I celebrated four years together and I love him more today than I ever have. In these four years I have learned a lot from him and have laughed a lot with him and have felt very safe and loved. That, my friends, is magic.
Standing on the precipice of 2013 there are some big changes coming up right away. Good changes. Happy changes. I’m scared spitless but isn’t that the best way to head into the New Year? Scared and happy and full of enough courage to dive in and not fade away.
I stand tall even if my knees are shaking, just a little.
And so are you by me? Beside me, to guide me, to hold me, to scold me, ’cause when I’m bad I’m so, so bad.
Let’s dance this last dance. The last dance, tonight.
It’s Please Recycle day! I think that should be a government holiday. Oh wait…..
Photo Copyright 2012, Karen Fayeth, and subject to the Creative Commons License in the right column of this page. Taken with an iPhone5 and the Camera+ app.