domesticana

Na Mele O Kalikimaka

Yesterday, as we watched the Kona Christmas Parade roll by our store, and sang a few carols in shorts, tank tops and flip-flops, I was reminded of the last time I felt hot and sticky during the holidays. It was my first Christmas overseas. I was seven going on eight and we had just moved to New Delhi, India. The smell of burning manure left the inside of my nose black the minute we got off the airplane, and I don't think I could ever forget the hot, heavy air hitting me in the face, reminding me that we weren't in Kansas anymore (incidentally, we really were moving from Kansas).

After something like 22 hours on a PanAm flight, seated in the middle four seats (my parents were either very brave or very masochistic), we were greeted at the airport by the family who we were replacing. I remember looking out the window as they drove us to our new house on Bagwandas Road, seeing all the different cars and colors and so many people out in the streets, peeing on the side of road and honking their horns at everything that moved. To a seven year old from Kansas, it was quite a new world.

It must have been a few weeks later when a group of Indian men in white shalvars came to our door with drums in hand and asked if they could come in and sing us some carols. We invited them inside and they set up in our living room. Seeing this large group of Indian men squatting in a semi circle on our floor, listening as they sang a bastardized version of Jingle Bells, is a treasured memory in our family's Christmas history.

"Jingel-da-bell oh oh, Jingel-da-bell oh oh, Jin-gel all dee way. Oh what a fun, it is to ride in a one horse op-en sleigh."

Transcribing it doesn't do the song justice. It's a classic.

As we sang Mele Kalikimaka on the street yesterday, I felt an ache to be at my parents' house, putting together our beat-up fake tree and pulling out all the dough-art ornaments and ugly tinsel garlands, singing Jingel-da-bells. I don't miss my family very often, and it felt good and, well, kind of made me happy.

Briefly beachy

Ella and I snuck away for a jaunt on the beach yesterday afternoon. We didn't bring our bathing suits or towels or sand toys. Hell, we weren't even wearing shorts. But, it had sand and waves and crabs, and we had an hour of fun in the afternoon sun. Here are a few pictures.

Sick and 'Hair'ed

I knew it wasn't going to be my dream Hawaiian vacation, but I hadn't prepared myself for this. Matt was feeling a little run down when we arrived last week, and by the weekend, he was a disaster. We think he must have some sort of stomach bug, but after two doctors, a trip to the emergency room and a lot of trips to the bathroom later, we're heading back up to the ER this afternoon. On top of all that, Ella has been single-handedly keeping the entire Hawaiian insect population alive with her tasty flesh. The poor kid is covered with bug bites--big giant, itchy welts--and after being doped up on Benadryl for two days, her body rebelled last night. She threw it back up and up and up. Ugh, it's just awful. Poor kid even has bites on the bottom of her foot.

Needless to say, I'm aching for both of them in pain and nothing I can really do about it. It sucks. But, I'm also bored out of my mind and not a little tired of taking care of grumpy sick people. I've read about 600 pages of my book--being cramped in an ER cubicle did wonders for my reading time. I've made countless runs to the drug store for bug bite creams and various other drugs and sundries. It's a drag.

In a (literally) vain attempt to take my mind off of all this stuff, last night (when I should have been working) I found myself cllicking around here or there, and wound up on the Clairol website. I've been looking for a free service that lets you 'try on' hair for ages, and when I finally happened upon it I felt downright giddy.

   

What do you think? Should I go red? Blonde? It's just silliness, but I played with this thing for about two hours last night after everyone went to bed. Can you tell how bored I am? I actually took screen shots and then copy/pasted them all into one image. That is severe boredom for you.

At least it took my mind off this horrible trip for a little bit.

We're heading home on Wednesday, and it simultaneously feels like we've only just arrived and that it couldn't come soon enough. The fact that we've had ZERO quality time with Matt, that he's still sick and that he will likely be here until Christmas is more than I can even think about right now. It's just nuts.

Decisions, decisions

For the past few months, anyone who knows me in "real" life would tell you that I've been sort of blurry. I'm hanging on by a thread, but at least I'm calm about it. Calm is all I've got.

We sold our house at the end of February, with a lease-back agreement that includes paying an exorbitant amount for rent (the full cost of the new owners' mortgage). At the time of our sale negotiations, that sounded somewhat reasonable because we just wanted to make the deal as easy as possible. It was upon signing the first rent check that we both said, "Um, that was dumb."

But, it has been a fire under our asses, and the procrastinator in us both is grateful for the heat.

On top of all of our home-related things, we've also been dealing with opening a new retail store, which included remodeling, stocking inventory, and tons of other details; moving our warehouse; moving our print shop; fighting three ridiculous legal battles; and dealing with our preschooler's share of viruses. It's been a fun few months.

In addition to all that, the thing that has really set me teetering on the edge of sanity has been not knowing where we're moving. Our plan has always been to settle in Sebastopol, California, but with lots of business-related travel that needs doing, we've been waffling about what to do and when. The various ideas floating around have been: to move to Hawaii for a few months, to move to L.A., to buy an RV and travel along the West Coast (my least favorite option), to rent an apartment here for a few months while we figure it all out, or to just go set up shop in Sebastopol. So, on top of all the other chaos in our lives, we've been planning a move, but there hasn't been a destination.

Whenever I talk about all this stuff with friends, the consensus is that I am unnaturally calm about it all. Honestly though, I feel like that's about all I've got it in me to do. I'm not doing nearly as much work-work as I should be. I'm not doing all the mothering things I want to be doing. I'm certainly not staying on top of the laundry. And yet I can't seem to go to bed without doing the dishes and tidying my house. My kitchen sink shines at me every morning, and it is keeping me sane.

And then there's the book thing... I have been devouring novels for a month. I'm such a sucker for a page-turner lately, and I have a stack of them to prove it. My movie watching and knitting are both suffering, but I can't seem to stop from plonking down on the sofa at the end of the day and reading until midnight. I think I did the math correctly the other night, as I was drifting off, that I've been flipping about 50 pages an hour, which for me is quite fast. Obviously, I just want to lose myself.

This weekend brought a ton of good news: after two months of illness, Matt is finally feeling better; our store is doing exceptionally well; a good friend has committed to running our business operations in Seattle starting in April; and we received a big windfall of cash. Listing it all out like that makes me realize that it's not at all surprising that both Matt and I were finally able to sit down and talk about what the hell we're going to do now.

The plan is to move directly to Sebastopol at the beginning of May. I am incredibly relieved to have a plan, but naturally having one makes it all the more real, overwhelming and not a little sad. We've been planning this move for the past year and a half, and now that the date has been set it's finally hitting me that I'm going to have to say good-bye. And pack.

Overnighter

It's Friday, right? I can't believe this day has finally arrived. Tomorrow I embark on a monumental journey: my first getaway since Ella was born. I feel justified in discounting that one time when I took the redeye to Rhode Island for a wedding, obsessed about pumping breastmilk every four hours and flew home the next day after having numerous embarrassing moments with cones and tubes and a vacuum in public. I don't think that trip qualifies as a "getaway."

After talking about making this short trip for over a year, I'm finally heading down to Portland, OR to visit one of my all-time greatest friends, Shana and her new boyfriend (whom I'm dying to meet). I'm going by myself. Without a toddler or a husband. Do you have any idea what this means? An entire three hour stretch on both Saturday and Sunday by myself! Okay, so I'll be in the car, but at least I'll be able to listen to whatever I want, talk to myself, stop for coffee. Oh damn, I forgot, I gave up coffee for New Years. Yeah, so, I didn't forget. It's always on my mind. As any of my friends will attest, I bring up the fact that I still haven't had any coffee practically every time I open my mouth.

Not only does this trip mean private time in the car, it also means I can stay up as late as I want, drink as much wine as I feel like drinking (yep, you guessed it, another month of 'trying' down the tubes) and sleep in without the occasional visits from the little miss. Shana and I are good at doing all of those things together, and I'm just counting down the hours until I get to hop in the car and hit the road.

On a side note, I initially considered taking the train to Portland as I've done it before and enjoyed it. When I brought it up to Matt he said, "That'll be so relaxing. I definitely think you should do it. They have wi-fi now, you know." Oh great, just how I want to spend my relaxing weekend away from home--surfing the internet and answering email. The man is a lost cause at this point, I'm telling you. Lost.

Next week I promise to return to talk about one or all of the following things that have been filling my mind lately: preschool, post-nursing weight gain, getting in shape and perhaps a liberating weekend away!

California Dreamin'

The weather in Seattle sucks lately. Expect for one day this weekend, It's been raining, 40 degrees and blowing at about 30 mph for eight days straight. I miss warm weather. I miss not feeling guilty if I'm not able to get outside and enjoy a rare day of sunshine. Normally I'm still enjoying the rainy fall weather in December, but this year I feel so deflated when I wake up to another dark and dreary day. It didn't seem like our summer was nearly long enough for me this year, and I'm sure it's just because we were too busy to enjoy it. We share an awesome sailboat with two other families, and we only took it out once (for a day trip) this summer. Matt calls it our $4000 trip to Kingston as that's what it has cost us to maintain our third of the boat for the year. What a complete waste!

When we were in Hawaii, which as I've lamented wasn't really the sort of vacation one imagines when dreaming of Hawaii, we soaked up as much warmth as we could, opening our windows instead of using the aircon, basking in the sun (as much as someone who gets hives in it can possibly do) and just generally enjoying feeling hot and sticky. We returned to dark and dismal, and all I can say is that it just wasn't enough of a reprieve for me this year.

Matt grew up on the Big Island and has recently begun talking quite seriously about moving either to an island or at least to someplace warm. It's all he can talk about lately, and I have to admit he's gaining ground with me.

As far as our life in Seattle goes, I love it: the city, our house and all of my friends. Whenever we go away, I miss Seattle and my friends desperately, and I always feel a genuine sense of appreciation for our good fortune here when we return. This weather though... It's just bringing me down.

And then there's that longing for some sort of new adventure. Starting fresh. This is the longest I've lived anywhere in my life, and I'm starting to miss that sense of excitement I used to feel before a big move. I've never imagined myself living anywhere permanently (during retirement maybe, but even then who knows?). I was raised on the move every few years, and although I can't see myself living that exact lifestyle again, I don't really want to plant myself in Seattle forever either.

My friends are my anchor right now, and the fact that I feel that my circle is expanding and my bonds with friends deepening all the time makes me sad to even write a blog entry about the possibility of moving. Between pre-mom friends (some of whom are now mom friends), mom friends, inherited friends (those would be the wives of Matt's friends) and my beloved knitters (who are slowly becoming a mixture of all of them), I am beyond fortunate in my relationships. The equally sad and uplifting truth about friendships, in my experience anyway, is that the true ones can endure the trials of long-distance. It will never be exactly the same, but all is not lost and life goes on with their love, phone voices and email messages held close.

So aside from my amazing group of friends, I don't have any strong ties to Seattle. Not really. Not yet exactly. My parents, who are still living the Embassy-gypsy lifestyle, recently bought a condo in Seattle (where my brother lives rent-free), and that feels like a serious step toward a strong tie to this town. They bought it for three reasons: 1. as a place for my brother to live, 2. as an investment and 3. as a place to stay when they come to see us. We have a history there...

Let me digress for a moment to say that when I was pregnant, I tried to be tactful when I told our families that they were welcome to come for Ella's birth but that I couldn't handle house-guests before and shortly after the birth. Although I don't regret setting that boundary, I do recognize that it was a selfish thing to do. If you knew my relationship with my mother, particularly at the time, you would understand my position. I had to be selfish for my sanity. I'll leave it at that.

It is now a festering wound in my familial-house-guest-dynamic and will almost certainly never heal. Did I mention that I still don't regret it? That should give you some inkling about the selfishness for sanity part. Anyway, whenever my parents have come to visit since her birth, they've made an enormous deal about whether it's alright to stay at our house. No matter how many different ways I try to reassure them (laughingly, seriously, rudely... you name it) that I only needed my space surrounding the birth and that my ban on house-guests wasn't a permanent thing, they can't seem to get over it. I'm certainly not mad about their insecurity--I created it after-all--but I do feel a bit bad splitting town after they bought a condo here as a means of avoiding that uncomfortable feeling when they want to visit us. That's the guilt talking...

As they will most likely settle down at some point, I'm feeling the need to put some action behind my constant reminder to them that I don't plan to live here forever. In recent months, my mom has been sending me MLS listings for houses in this general vicinity. I think the guilt factor would reach astronomical proportions if they bought their retirement home 20 miles away and then we moved.

The serious nature of our recent hankering to move came when we realized that, business-wise, we really don't have any reason to stay. We don't have a lease on our office space. We don't have any clients that we couldn't serve remotely. We do have a lot more potential for the growth of our new business(es) in California. It could be a good time to sell our house and walk with enough money to buy one that we like down south. Alternately, we have a proposal out (we're waiting on pins and needles to hear if we get it) that would allow us to rent our house in Seattle and buy a new one somewhere else. Ella's not in school yet. We don't have a new baby. I could go on, but you get the drift.

Last week, I spent the majority of my free time daydreaming about a new house somewhere warm, maybe even in the country (I think at most 20 minutes from a city), and just generally shaking up my routine. The chances that we will do this are still so slim it feels silly to even write about it. Matt and I are always saying we're going to do this or that (like get pregnant or remodel our kitchen or whatever else). But, it feels really nice to dream about it right now, and I imagine that's just one step closer to making it a reality.

Malibu saved me

Driving for three full days amid constant crying, temperature taking and drug administration, sweating induced by my child’s distress, constant second-hand listening to Matt’s phone calls, and absolutely no conversation whatsoever made the fact that we stayed right on Malibu beach all the more sweet. The balcony in our room was directly above the sand and surf, and in my mind, there’s nothing more healing than a solo walk on the beach (I got one in when Ella was napping).

Matt continues to become busier by the second, and I continue to wonder how that is humanly possible. When I say we didn’t talk on the road, I am not exaggerating. He was deep in work-thought or call, and I was left to attempt to make Ella comfortable and get some knitting done. Neither were very successful.

The beach made me feel sane again. And it seemed to perk up the munchkin as well.

Visitors and visiting

On Sunday, Heather, of The Daily fame, drove up to Seattle with her family, and we met at a nearby playground in hopes of actually having a conversation. Although the visit wasn't entirely a loss, we concluded that the key to relaxing and catching up was a.) no kids and b.) a drink or two or four.

I should back up to say that Heather and I met when my friend Jessica hosted a diary writer's party a year+ ago, long before I started a diary of my own. Although we barely spoke that night, we must have sensed a connection because we ended up emailing fairly regularly.

So on Monday, Jessica, Heather and I caught up over a few martinis at Tini Bigs, a swanky-ish bar in Belltown (a.k.a. the hip downtown neighborhood). We were planning to take our out-of-towner to this Euro-style wine bar called The Sitting Room, but it was closed. What was it, a Monday night or something? Since we wanted to avoid a meat-market and actually have a conversation, we decided to drive around to look for a spot and landed at Tini's, which was smoky but quiet enough to actually hear each other.

Before we knew it the liquor was coming and we had turned Heather on to Manhattans. Jess and I enjoyed many a bonding moment during our roommate days over our mutual love of burbon. We chatted about life and plans and husbands and kids, and then we did a little gossiping about our online acquaintances. Did you know about this feud between so-an-so and so-and-so? What was that last thing all about—do you have any idea? We left feeling tipsy, elated and a tad lame for turning into the kind of people who say, "Oh God, it's 11:25pm. I've got to get to bed." I must admit I'm bummed Heather's not moving to Seattle for grad-school—my hopes were up about it—but it was excited to hear all about her endless opportunities at University of Oregon.

In other news, our road trip plans are solidifying, slowly. We're planning a fairly easy drive, with two overnight stops before L.A.: one in Ashland, OR (love that town) and one at his mom's place in San Francisco. Then we're planning to stay at the Malibu Beach Inn for two nights while we visit some friends in the area. We both figured we'd need a pit stop for a couple days before the family and work frenzy begins, and at least this way it might actually resemble, oh I don't know, a vacation... Matt has lots and lots of work to do while we're there, and Ella and I will be driving all over tarnation (to use one of my mother's favorite words), visiting aunts, uncles, cousins and great-grandparents. Oh the joy of driving in southern California with a restless toddler.

Heather emailed me yesterday to say that her daughter Giselle has RSV (poor thing), a common, highly-contagious respiratory tract infection. She wanted Jess and I to know and watch out for it in Ella and Hana. I called my pediatrician yesterday, and will hopefully hear back today. I want to check in before we go down to L.A. for many reasons, one of them being that my grandmother is suffering from what is believed to be terminal lung cancer, and if Ella does come down with RSV we shouldn't go see her. It's disappointing, but, well, it happens. I want to find out if I'm "contagious" too, even if I don't have any symptoms, because I may be able to go visit them without the munchkin.

In knitting news, I finished one of my socks and cast on for the next. Pictures to come later, but I have put that project down temporarily to work on a super-secret gift project with some friends. I'm very excited about it, and I think this road trip will give me all the time I need to get it finished quickly.

And, we're off like a herd of turtles. Or was it a turd of hurdles? Another favorite phrase from ma mère.

No dice on the baby, but I may get a dishwasher.

It's official: my plans to get pregnant have been thwarted again. Matt's sick, this time with some sort of stomach bug. It's hard to be grumpy with someone who is feeling crappy. On top of it all, Ella seems very out-of-sorts today, and I'm convinced she'll be coming down with the same thing if she hasn't already. If it's not that, then I'm throwing my hands in the air and giving up—she's been that ornery. Will the illness never end around here?

On a good note, it looks like we will be remodeling our kitchen next month, a project we've been dreaming about for almost five years. Right now, the room is functional, meaning we can cook and store our food in it, but a fun place to experiment and hang out, it is not. The cabinets are absolutely hideous: no pulls, just that nasty dark brown fake wood with beveled edges, circa 1982. The fridge and stove are ancient, and we don't have a dishwasher or a garbage disposal. But, the room does have potential, and Matt is convinced the project can be completed in less than a month. He's saying 2 weeks. I'm taking that as a month.

Doing it will require moving all the essentials downstairs, using the microwave and a little cook-top stove and doing a ton of prep work this month. Uh, is it the 17th already?

Oh yeah, and we're going to L.A. next week from the 26th through April 4th. The plan is to drive down together, and then Ella and I will probably fly home to avoid another interminable road-trip back to Seattle. The last time we made the Seattle to L.A. trek, Ella was absolutely miserable almost the entire time. She doesn't sleep well in the car, and we certainly don't have one of those handy DVD players for the back seat. Not that she would care. The girl could care less about a television. We were at a friend's house a few weeks ago, and I was literally startled to see her playing next to my friend's son as he was watching (a very charming) video. She didn’t look at the screen at all, and he was literally transfixed, shooing away her attempts to lure him out of his stupor with toys. It was weird to see that she had no interest. I wasn’t expecting that at all. I mean, hell, I’m the worst of the stop-and-stare-I-can’t-talk-because-there’s-a-flashy-commercial people, and then there’s Ella not even focusing on it for more than a few seconds as she runs by with a crayon.

Triathlon Training Update
Um yeah, I haven’t started that yet. I did get some AAA batteries for my little runner’s radio though. It’s a start. Nino, if you’re reading this, I would love your training regimen. I need it. Badly.