Waxing Lyrical

Waiting to Bloom

2006-03-07T19:27:00.000-05:00

It's an antsy time of year.

The days are starting to get longer. I leave work, and it's still light out. I wake up in the morning at 6:50 am to see that the sun has already beat me to it. Spring is on the brink, but not quite here and it's lolly-gagging is pissing me off!

Of course, in three weeks, when it's 90 plus degrees out with 110% humidity I'll be bitching and moaning. But for now, I just long for flip flops and to give my skin a small dose of the sun's vitamain D & E.

The cherry blossoms tease me. Some are pink, some are still naked. The grass is greener in some places, but not everywhere. By my front step are a few daffodils in bloom, but all others remain in their winter slumber.

Today, I cleaned my desk, tidied the common printing area in my office, organized some files, re-wrote a to-do list so it looked a little neater and made a hopeful appointment for a pedicure. The promises of a 70 degree weekend teases me like a bad horoscope.

What is it about the pending spring that makes us so antsy? Is it an eternal yearning for the balance of the equinox? Does the moon pull our brain fluids a little out of whack? Or does it just bring back memories of our youth and the return to the playground.

In any case...frickin' bloom already. I have my sunblock ready to go.

Beggars Can't Be Choosers

2006-02-22T17:54:00.000-05:00

I was overcome by an act of charity gone wrong this evening.

As I approached the CVS at DuPont Circle on my walk home I noticed that there were more homeless folk out than normal. Maybe the dark, damp, chilly weather brought them out. I glanced at them out of the corner of my eye as I walked by and saw one guy coughing a really pathetic sounding cough. Not pathetic as in faking pathetic, but truly "this guy sounds consumptive" pathetic.

I kept walking.

Should I do something? I never do anything. I never give money and I never will, and I always feel bad about it. Surely there is something this guy needs. What can I do for him?

I stop.

I turn around.

I approached him and asked if he had a cold. He said he did. I asked him if he wanted some cold medicine and told him that I would buy him some if he wanted. He agreed after telling me some sort of story that I couldn't understand but I nodded as if I did. So, I went into the store, sort of excited like a child would be thinking that they were in the act of doing something that would make their parents proud. I found some generic cold medicine, bought it with my flexible spending account's mastercard, and returned to my new friend outside.

"Here you go. It says to take one of these every four hours."

"What the hell is this?!" he said.

"It's for your cold. You said you had a cold."

"Lady, I don't need this. I won't remember to take it. I need money. Give me some money."

"I won't give you any money," I said.

"Why not? I gotta eat."

"So do I, but I know you won't buy food with the money I give you. You'll get high, or you'll get drunk."

"I drink to ease the pain."

And then my mother's voice came to my throat. "If you don't want it, then I'll just take it back."

"Take it," he said.

And I did.

And as I passed the other people who don't have a place to lie their head, I felt them laughing at me on the inside. How could I be so silly to think that a box of cold medicine would really be appreciated? My charity was rejected. I felt dirty. And naive.

This has happened to me before. When I was a rather strict vegetarian I was leaving a Chinese restaurant with my leftover dinner in a take out box. Quickly, I was greeted by someone outside the restaurant door who said that if I wasn't going to finish my dinner, he'd gladly do it for me. I gave it to him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's vegetarian."

"Nevermind," he said as he handed it back to me.

I never knew these folks could be so picky.

Independently Wealthy

2006-02-02T10:56:00.000-05:00

Who are these people who don't have to work?

Have you ever taken a mental health day off from the office, and wandered into that ultra hip coffee shop to see people lounging around with those delighted caffinated faces plunged into the New Yorker. Chuckling silently to themselves. Either several people are playing hooky from work on the same day, they work at night, or they are one of the few who don't work. Lottery winners, trust fund babies. Call 'em what you want, but they are lucky bastards.

I would love to join their ranks.

Today, as I plodded off to my office I allowed myself to day dream about what I would do if I didn't have to work. I mean, really, I work because I need the money. We have a mortgage. We have bills. Without a paycheck, we're screwed. And while I like what I do, if someone offered me a bottomless checking account tomorrow, I would certainly not let the door hit me on my way out. Oh, what sweet, wonderful bliss it would be to not *have* to work.

First, I decided I would travel. I pine to go back to Jamaica (where my husband and I spent a week in tropical delight during our honeymoon). It's not overly pricey, but I simply don't have the extra 5K's lying around to spend another week there at a swanky, wait on me hand and foot resort. Plus, I don't have the vacation time off from work. I also have this dream of seeing all seven natural wonders of the world. I would love to be one of those few people who have trod on the earth of all seven continents. Amazing.

But one can only travel for so long...

I then began to think about where I would like to live. In all honesty, I don't really need a huge fancy place somewhere that costs millions and millions of dollars. I am more the type who likes to get a lot of bang for their buck. Recenlty, my husband and I have been talking about maybe relocating to Buffalo, NY (where he is from originally). The houses there are beautiful - absolutely amazing - and you can get a lot more house for your dollar there than you can in DC. And the proximity to Canada is an added bonus. The thing I struggle with is what exactly does an artsy fartsy, tree hugger type like me do in a blue collar town like Buffalo? Well...if I didn't have to work, a wealth of options seem to open up. I could be a philanthropist. You know, the gala types who write checks. That could be my job. I promise to take on worthy causes and give back to my community. Bono and Bill Gates would have nothing on me, I swear.

But winters in Buffalo are close to unbearable, from what I hear, and so a winter home would most definitely be needed. I'm thinking somewhere exotic - with tax shelter. Again, Jamaica rings fondly.

And I would need a city house. Definitely something in Manhattan - around Central Park.

Now we're talking.....

Finally, I'd need that country retreat. That's an easy one. Jackson Hole, Wyoming, a place filled with intense, unbridled natural beauty. Having been raised in Wyoming, I have fond memories of that town. A Christmas in Jackson would truly be magical.

So, four homes later, I'm still not certain how I would fill my days. I think I would want to be super creative. I think I would like to write. And learn how to make pottery. Maybe I could do some theatre in the evenings since my survival wouldn't depend on whether or not I landed a role. I would throw dinner parties, and wine tastings, and spontaneous live art projects like improv everywhere.

My husband would say that I would be a crazy lady with dogs. I'm okay with that, too.

When I finally reached my desk this morning and unplugged the ipod from my ears a harsh reality set in. It'll never happen.

Back to work.

Cycles

2006-01-25T09:09:00.000-05:00

Why are we here?

It's the age old question, right? The bottom line is that no one really has an answer. Maybe that's why we all continue to live our lives haphazardly. I mean, really, it's morose to think about the end of the world. I don't understand how those fanatics can do it. But admittedly, once in a while, the thought pops into my head.

I am worried for our planet.

I am worried for my life and the lives of my husband and those that I love dearly.

I am worried for my unborn children.

It is concerning that it is January and 50 degrees in Buffalo, New York. We're not just talking one or two days, a heat wave, if you will. Oh, no. This has been a rather warm winter. Even the dumbest of Republicans will admit to that. My husband tells me that soon, winters in DC will be like those in Miami. Despite the growing inarguable evidence of global warming, not much is really being done.

And because of this, I keep coming back to the question of why? Why the fuck are we here?

I am not a religious person. I am an atheist with buddhist tendencies, but I certainly don't believe in the whole second coming, Jesus died for our sins stuff. No offense if you, I just beg to differ, which is my right. But I think it's crazy that there are folks out there who actually think that since the end of it all is looming we should rape our planet and use up all of our natural resources because we're (rather, "they"...I'm certain that I wouldn't be included in their head count) "saved".

Well, screw you!

I still wish to breathe some clean air and eat fish that aren't cancerous and would prefer to not buy a vacation cabana in Greenland! But mostly, I don't want to leave this burdon to my children. Much like the baby boomer generation is leaving me with their debt. Please, if there is a God, don't let the destruction of our planet be our generation's legacy. And if Buddha is right, and karma truly is a bitch and "they" are reincarnated and continue to live on this planet, I hope they come back as trees. At least that way they can finally pitch in to help.

'Twas a dark and stormy night...

2006-01-17T18:11:00.000-05:00

Over the weekend, my restful slumber was disturbed by a rather impressive storm. Thunder, lightening, wind - the whole works. The funny thing is, that when I shot up in bed the first thought in my head wasn't, "ooh, thunder". It was "Oh my god, they're bombing the capitol!" This is the world we live in. People store plastic sheeting and duct tape in case of the event of a dirty bomb. We have our evacuation routes planned and ready to go. Every other story on the news is Iraq this, Osama that. Every day we hear of more soldiers dying and our government spying on us without our knowledge. This world is a frightening place.

A couple days later, I went to see a film with my sister-in-law. She is four months pregnant, expecting a boy, and radiating in that glow that only pregnant women can pull off. After the movie (I highly reccommend seeing Match Point - best Woody Allen film in a long time), we grabbed a couple cups of Joe. While she offered me sound career advice and we shared a few family secrets, I secretly sat in awe. She is so brave. The woman is joyously planning on bringing another life into this world - a world where 65 year old journalists are mugged on the street and left for dead - and I find that so courageous.

When the weatherman gave his report of wind and possible thunder storms this evening, I made a mental note that bombs were not in the forecast.

The end of an era...

2006-01-09T19:24:00.000-05:00

I just got the final word today that a dear friend of mine is moving away to the Left Coast. She has accepted an exciting new position in San Francisco and her start date is about a month away. Together with her husband, they begin a new journey and I couldn't be happier for them. But, selfishly, I am sad because I will miss them. In particular (while I am very fond of both of them, but there is just a special bond between us girls), I will miss M.V. terribly. It is the end of an era.

I met the "V's" in 2003. They moved into my building on Capitol Hill and lived just down the hall. I, being nosy, was anxious to investigate the new neighbors and sniff out their story. He, I learned quickly, was a whisky drinker, and she had fabulous shoes. Not long after they moved in, our 4th floor residence became a throw-back dorm room as the tenants of Stanton Manor gathered together weekly on Tuesday night to watch the new drama unfolding on "24" (ooh, Keifer), followed by a more sobering "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy". We made dinner together, we drank wine, and we laughed...a lot. And as my friendship with the "V's" was growing, I was also rapidly falling in love with the man who is now my husband. And soon, with the announcement that we were officially going to shack up and live in sin, my now husband and I put an end to the rousing Tuesday TV time at "the Manor". Since then, everyone who was part of that click has now moved away or become socially recluse. But the one thing that remained constant were the "V's". They were always there.

Until now.

As the "V's" begin to pack and make their plans for a cross-country move, an era comes to the end with each strip of packing tape. I know that distance makes the heart grow fonder. I just don't know that a heart could be any more fond of these wonderful friends.

...now, what does one prepare for a "so long for now" dinner party?

For "M". Congratulations, sweetie.

In the City

2006-01-05T09:42:00.000-05:00

Last night I had a commute home that reminded me that I live in a city. I have a 30 minute walk to and from work. As soon as I left my office at 5pm I was immediately greeted by the outside world with the sound of sirens. This actually isn't too out of the ordinary given the proximity of my office to the White House and Dick Cheney's motorcade (the man's schedule is more regular than a box of metimucil). As I crossed the infamous K Street, onto Connecticut Avenue I noticed that a whole city block had been shut down as well as the metro. "Oh, shit" I thought to myself wondering what bomb may have gone off where while whipping out my cel phone to try to find the whereabouts of my husband. I relaxed when I realized that no one on the street appeared panicked - no one was running or screaming, so it couldn't be much of an emergency.

"What's going on?" I asked the bicycle messenger who was gazing at the building housing Victoria's Secret.

"Some girl up there is gonna jump", he replied. I looked at the top of the building, but saw no one.

"Where is she?"

"On the second floor."

I snickered inside. Terrible as it may be, the first thought I had was "who the hell jumps off the second floor??" Not that I'd be an expert, and I know I shouldn't be so quick to judge, but certainly she must know that the second floor is not the way to go if you're going to end it all.

I walked to the end of the block to get a better view. I overheard a guy with a video camera asking for so-and-so from NBC. I stepped closer to him for better eavesdropping.

"Yeah, so the story is that she works in the building and got caught stealing some artwork", he said.

Again, clearly this woman is misguided, I thought to myself. If you want to die over some art, then for God's sake I hope it's a Picasso or even a Warhol or Pollock. Not something from one of these dull law firms. And then, I decided that the gawking wasn't worth my time and I had two dogs at home that need to go out to pee. I continued up the street watching the expressions on the faces of the people approaching the impeding suicide scene.

After 15 minutes of walking, I was stopped at a corner by a nice police officer who asked me to step back. I looked down the street and saw Dick Cheney's motorcade. I guess we're all a little off schedule today.

Patriot = ?

2006-01-03T16:41:00.000-05:00

Today, on my lunch break, I walked from my office to the World War II Memorial. I was embarrassed that I hadn't seen it since they finished construction and it's merely a 15 minute walk to the National Mall from my office, so there really is no excuse other than I, like so many who live in our nation's capital, take this shit for granted.

So, away I plodded with my ears plugged into my i-pod providing an interesting soundtrack to the moment. As I approached and began to walk around the memorial, I was quite moved. I do not believe in war, fundamentally. I squirmed in my seat when I watched Saving Private Ryan. But meandering around the pilars with state's names carved into them, set inbetween the Lincoln Memorial and Washington Monument I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe for my country. Strange, considering I'm appauled by our government on a daily basis. I haven't felt that way since 9/11. But as I walked back to my office and passed the White House, upon consideration of it's current tenant, the feeling quickly subsided. Canada still looks good.

2005-12-31T19:04:00.000-05:00

Tick, tock, tick, tock. The mouse ran up the clock.

It's officially the last day of 2005 and we are merely hours away from 2006. All in all, I have to say that 2005 was a good year. I got married to a man I fall more deeply in love with every day. I traveled to a foreign land. I saw a million different smiles on my puppies faces. I was witness to the true value of friendship in moments of crises. I learned that a Norman Rockwell image of family is fake.

Maybe that's what the real beauty is of entering a new year - the knowledge you have going into it from the year before...

Happy New Year.

2005-12-30T14:38:00.000-05:00

This time of year always puts me in retrospective mood - I self evaluate what I've done over the past year, albeit my life up to this point and I criticize or applaud myself. I look toward ways to improve myself and I make the ever-so-famous New Year's Resolution and vow to start anew at the 12th chime of midnight. Wipe the slate clean. It's a vicious cycle that happens every year, but this year in particular I have been spending a great amount of time contemplating over my wishes for the new year.

I find it interesting that at the root of reinvention and the yearly New Year's Resolution is desire. It makes me think of the lessons my mother tried to impart on me growing up on the difference between "want" and "need". Yesterday, I found myself stumbling into the GAP. I didn't need anything there. I have a closet full of clothes that I don't wear. But, oh, I wanted those new drawstring pants (perfect for yoga), and the sinfully soft sweater and khaki's. And I indulged myself and my wants. And while I am sure that I will enjoy these pleasures, I did not NEED them, they do not make me a better person. I am not healthier because I bought the yoga pants...yoga pants do not cause me to drag my lazy ass off the couch onto the mat. It's the YOGA that would truly make me a better person. But, as I left the store, I was happier - $75 poorer, but happier. Isn't happiness at the root of desire? One wants because at the end of the day - or at the end of our days - we wish to be content and in that contentment, we feel full and whole. The question is, what is the best road to take to achieve happiness? And what exactly does happiness mean for each person? To be wealthy? To travel? To sleep in until noon?

One of my New Year's resolutions this year is to live my life more in the moment. My husband and friends will all attest to the fact that I am a habitual planner to the n'th degree. I make lists in my sleep. I can't help but feel that in this desire I have to plan for the future - to plan for future happiness, I am missing out on what is happening in this very moment. But this is not the type of resolution with tangible results - there is no shrinking waistline, or growing bank account to gauge my success at living in the moment. Rather, I think to live in the moment will result in more happiness; or at least I'll recognize that contentment.

This morning, as I walked past the GAP (do not pass go, do not collect $200) on my way to work, a man drove by me with a rhythmic latin beat pertruding from his beat up Volvo. He was clapping and dancing in his seat. He stopped at the stop light, I peered into his car looking for answers. He paused and smiled at me. I smiled back, and was happy in the moment. No lists, no wants, no judgments - just happy.