as seen from a different angle

AARON: What is Presbyterianism anyway?
AMBER: I don't know, but they have a different kind of cross.
AARON: How so?
AMBER: I think it has a loop or a hook on it.
AARON: [long, thought-filled pause] ....to hang you with?

keep on the sunny side

Several things have happened lately. I've been avoiding updating, and when I did try to update I removed my post because I felt like I wasn't giving things a fair shot. So here we go:



1) We had a house and now we don't. We got our hopes up really high when we found a really great (read: too good to be true) house and they accepted our offer on it. However, it turned out to be a lemon, with very well hidden structural issues that will cost more to fix than the house is worth, so we withdrew. There was a part of me that remained sceptical throughout. Which is why I didn't let myself blog about it. I didn't want to jinx it and I didn't want it to fall through. I just had a feeling about it, I really wanted to believe that it was The House, but something kept telling me that it wasn't so easy. Lesson: even though it's expensive, always hire an inspector before you seal any deals. It's a bummer, but at least it happened and we found out before we bought it instead of in 5 years when we're ready to sell. So for now we'll continue to live with Violett in her violet house in woods. At least we love it here.



2) I got a job. It isn't my dream job, but it's ok. it's money and it's (kind of) working in editing. It's really not that bad. I get to listen to the Minister of Music (yes that is her title) play Bach on the organ all day. It's both creepy (in a good way) and kind of incredible.



3) And as all of these changes take place, at least I have a friend:


I don't want to jinx this, either, but I can't hold it in any longer. He's my landlady's but she said that I could keep him. He's the sweetest thing.

tap dancing their way into your heart

Last weekend we went to something called The Mason Dixon Festival. We were keeping our fingers crossed for southern food, but instead we found The String of Pearls.

The String of Pearls is a local dance troop of so-called elderly ladies. Now, as far as I could tell, there was really only one elderly in the group, and they stuck her way in the back on the right. As you can see, she wasn't exactly as mobile as the others. If you ask me, she was pretty careless: she didn't put herself into the moves like the others did, and frankly, she did a lot of mistakes. She often got lost in the dance, you could see the confusion in her face. "Why am I here? What's happening?" She was just a little cloudy is all. And I could tell the other women in the Pearls thought the same thing. They wouldn't exactly give her looks, but they pretty much pretended she didn't exist. Between each number (yes, each and every) they did a costume change:

and after a particularly bad spell, where poor Ethel (at least that's what I like to call her) lost her sense of direction and nearly tapped off the stage, they wouldn't let her appear in the next number (proof in the above cowgirl photo).

Watching The String of Pearls was one of those life moments when you learn what it means to keep a sense of composure. Aaron and I were falling out of our seats, shaking, with tears in our eyes trying not to laugh. However, the hardest part by far was the entertainment that came out between String of Pearls numbers:

Now. I want you to take note of the teal-bedecked elderly about to attack him. She had moves that put Ethel to shame.

Now it was again a green light on a dock

I recently reread what I usually think of as my favorite novel of all time: The Great Gatsby. I hadn't had a chance to reread it since before college. I really wanted to pick it up and see what my education had done...see if a degree in books actually made this one different. It didn't. This book transcends educated reading. Everything in it is right on the page. The writing is so strong and pure. I didn't need 5 years of school to tell me this.

I'm getting sentimental. As I should, though. I have a really sappy story about Gatsby. So if you're not in the mood for shameless cheese, look away. It's a story of Amber and Aaron, the Middle Years.

The summer before I went to college, Aaron moved to Somerville. For various reasons, this was slightly alarming. Mainly because I was in love with him and I wasn't ready to cope with that. But lets not get into that. Anyway, Aaron lived in Somerville, and I in Medford. Then he inched his way closer still, moving to Arlington, one mile away from me and about 1/3 of a mile from where I worked. For a while this didn't have much consequence, but it was just the idea of his being there. I thought about it all the time. I had fantasies of bumping into each other at the coffee shop. At the grocery store. Waiting for the bus became an examination of every car and bike on the street to see if it was his.

Finally, I called and asked him why he moved to my side of the river. All he said was, "West Egg. I can see a green light." I basically died. How could I not? At that point in my life, I'd never heard anything more romantic, really. I don't know if he knew it was one of my favorite books. he probably did. We started scheduling meetings, every Friday at 7am, the local coffee shop. We listened to Nashville Skyline and he'd drive me the rest of the way to work. We watched it become winter.

That was more than five years ago. Sometimes I'll ask him if I really did have an influence in his move, if he really moved to West Egg. We smile about it. It's become part of us. But I do think of this:

There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams--not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything.

I am sure that I tumbled short. But we're here, we're still here. We're buying a house. We're getting married. We're still us. We didn't self combust like Gastby and Daisy. That's pretty big. Rereading it made me remember a lot about that time. We're so different now. We aren't them any more. We're Amber and Aaron, the Later Middle Years.

"and you can say goodbye to your Precious Moments!"

I found this ad today in the Dominion Post (my new local newspaper):

DIVORCE Garage Sale: 1209 Avalon St. off Dorsey Ave., Fri. & Sat., 8am-5pm. Pool table, LR Suite, BR Suite, area rug. Collectibles - Boyds and Bearstones, Precious Moments, Dog Figurines, Pooh. Pfaltzgraff dishes, numerous house wares, electronics, adult clothing, infant/toddler clothing, and infant accessories.

Talk about laying it all out there for the world to see.

"Oh, how I love you, my little Precious Moment. I'm so glad those people got a divorce and I found you."

soup

Aaron had a sore throat this weekend so I made him a chicken soup with the stuff I had around the house. It's a pain to get to the grocery store for an item or two, so I just made something up based loosely on the memory of a recipe for Bohemian Chicken Soup out of the Canyon Ranch Cookbook packed in a box not to be found for several years, most likely. It's warm and yummy and slightly spicy, which helps scratchy throats.

Made up Bohemian Chicken Soup

2 onions, chopped

1 clove garlic

1 tbsp oil

salt and pepper (lots)
cayenne pepper, several dashes

1 tbsp Bell seasoning

red pepper flakes, 1 dash

2-3 chicken breasts, cubed

2+ cups chicken stock (I like the Trader Joe's Fat Free Low Sodium Free Range Organic)

water enough to make it a soup

2 cups fresh cauliflower, chopped in big chunks

1 cup broccoli (I only had frozen)

handful of mushrooms (I used dried shiitaki, but fresh button are better)

Dumplings:

1/4 cup whole wheat flour

1/4 cup regular flour

some Parmesan cheese (2-3 tbsp)

2 tbsp. skim milk

1 egg

cayenne pepper (several dashes)

salt and pepper

I sauteed the onions and garlic in oil and added the spices. After translucent, I added chicken and some water. after a minute, I added stock, mushrooms, and several cups of water. I let this cook a few minutes, then added cauliflower. Because I used frozen broccoli, I added that 10 minutes later so it wouldn't get soggy. 5 more minutes, then I added the dumplings, slowly, plopping small portions of the dough off the edge of a spoon into the soup. Then it was done. And Aaron's throat cleared up.

quite a dickens

A few weeks before we left Boston I had a difficult time reading. This wasn't my usual few day break after a reading binge (although I did just finish The Namesake in about 1.5 sittings). I couldn't focus. I lacked interest and enthusiasm in my choices. Attempting to get involved with a novel felt like pulling teeth.

Looking back, perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I had a pile about twenty books deep of stuff that I wanted to read and toss. Stuff that wasn't worth hanging onto, but was, potentially, worth a summer fling. The rest of my books were packed for the move. These books would not have been my proudest reading moments, but they were no Dan Brown. Let's just say that The Namesake was among them (not exactly trash), but the pile also contained several Oprah books, many books about southern women quilting and getting into messy situations, and Confederacy of Dunces, which I've never been able to muster enthusiasm for. There wasn't much to be excited about, really.

However, I think that my resistance also had a lot to do with that fact that I was really nervous about the move. The last thing I needed to focus on was what trouble the Florabama Ladies Auxiliary Sewing Circle were scaring up in some poorly-written make believe southern world. But neither could I focus on non-fiction.

And so, as a desperate last resort, I turned to the pile on its way to Goodwill and a long-time enemy: Charles Dickens. I've never been a fan. I was forced to read A Tale of Two Cities at the zenith of my Anti-Britite phase and so I hated every minute of it and vowed never to read Dickens again. (Interesting side-note: After every completed chapter I would reward myself with one from John Irving's Cider House Rules. It was only much later that I found out how often the two authors are compared, or rather, how often it's said that Irving's main influence is Dickens. This comparison was part of the collapse of my vow.)

Anyway, I needed something old, and long, and boring. I needed to focus on something that probably didn't suck, even though it might be mind-numbingly boring. And it saved me. I enjoyed every minute of it. It gave me something to get mixed up in back in Boston, and continue upon our arrival (and then some). There is comfort in that. He really surprised me. And I've been trying find everyone I've talked to about Dickens and take back all of the bad things I've ever said about him (though the list is really long). World, I am officially a Dickens fan.

our life, for now

I thought I'd start off the blog by giving everyone a look into our life, now, in West Virginia. We're living in temporary housing, but it's beautiful and there is a part of me that doesn't want to leave. Here is a tour, in photos, of our place.




As Aaron demonstrates, we cross a little bridge off the driveway. We first made the mistake of driving over this rickety number, but soon learned that this was a very big mistake.





Here is the view of the creek (which they call a "run") from the bridge.









After the bridge, we walk the stone pathway. When we first arrived, we were warned about snakes, poisonous snakes in particular, so I usually make sure to stay on the stones.







We have a visitor.

And two more. These two fellows are Jesus and Krishna and they visit us often.