History

Yesterday I began a rather colossal task. I've loved pictures pretty much forever. I've never taken any sort of photography course, and my best photos are generally flukes, but I still love them. And I still keep taking pictures, whether of people, places, or shameless poser self portraits, I've got a massive stockpile of photos that cover life in these United States as well as my international travels.
A few months ago my husband convinced me that we should get new back up hard disks. Part of his reasoning was that my computer would be less slow and annoying to him if I was able to delete some pictures off of it and not be freaked out that they're gone forever. Of course, I do already have tons of pictures downloaded on CDs and flash disks, but even those places worry me a bit. When they're on my computer they're right there, I can see them when I want, and they create lovely little slideshows when my screen saver comes on. (Side note: these slideshows often posed as quizzes for my roommates Naomi and Laura as they got to know my family and friends better through my endless stories.) I don't ever want my computer to be devoid of photos, but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to clean it up a bit.
I'd already put a number of pictures onto the hard disk, but in a sloppy way, just as individual photos without categories. So last night I began to organize those photos, and went on to categorize all the photos still on my computer. Once that was taken care of, I started going through photo CDs. That's when things got a little emotional. Looking at pictures of my life in Hong Kong, all those beautiful friends and babies and the tropical cityscape left me feeling nostalgic and hungry for more. Then I went through all of my pictures from 2008/09 in Czech making me miss my students and remember the way fell in love with my sweet Marecek. I also teared up when I came across the pictures of my visit to Becky and her family, and was reminded of how a lovely life was lost.
And of course there was also laughter.

I still have to find piles of other CDs in order to make my collection complete, not to mention one day taking on the archives of standard film photos that should all be digitized and preserved just because, but it was a good exercise, a good reminder of so many things that are important about this life. There are so many people, so many places that have touched me. It's so easy in my day to day existence to take for granted the wealth of my past. I'm not saying we should live in the past, but neither should we take it for granted. When things become mundane, when the future seems to big and frightening to even contemplate, it's amazing what flipping through some old photos can do.
Now I'm hoping I can find the spider that scared me off my nice comfy chair. I had to type this post sitting on the floor, which is one of those things I really abhor. At least there's carpet...

Smazeny Kureci Rizek, Bramborovy Salat, a Tatarska Omacka

I think I was a pretty smart kid. I had this idea that I wanted to be a Grandma when I grew up. There are some pretty cool things about being a grandma. There are all those joys of having kids filling up your house with joy, but you don't have to be the one responsible for late night baby feedings, dealing with the stomach flu, or the pesky task of discipline. Instead you get to snuggle sweet kids who are delighted by your presence, dole out the sweets, and buy adorable toys and kid clothes at your pleasure. A pretty sweet gig.
You also get to be known for specialties. There is no need for a long repertoire of meals to prepare, just a couple of basics for holidays (when you have other people around to help pull it off) and some classics like mini pancakes with berry syrup, sugar cookies, and lefse. You manage those things and you're totally covered as far as the kids go. And chances are that if you have a husband he'll be old enough to know better than to expect anything more than jelly toast for breakfast and regular meals out. After all, you're a grandma and you deserve to be treated after all those years of slaving away to take care of your family.
That's where the clincher comes in and ruins the whole perfect scenario. The thing is, you can't just skip to being a grandma. There's a whole lot of other stuff that has to come first in order to acquire that title. That's what I'm learning about now.
By Jr. High I'd come to the conclusion that I wanted the whole getting married and having a family deal to be a part of my future as well. There have always been novelist dreams, even fantastic fantasies involving the silver screen and recording labels. Most of those have chilled, although I've got a couple of books in the works that I'm trying to mull through and figure out how to get them into the hands of the masses. It took a long time to get to the marriage point, but today I've made it three months into wifehood, and I can see that I still have a LONG way to go.
Yesterday, I decided that I wanted to make a grand gesture. The type that hopefully makes up for some of the general mundane existence life so easily falls into. Anyone who knows much about me, or has even read a wee bit of my blog, realizes that cooking is NOT my strong point. Not even close. I can muddle my way through, and given guidance even pull things off for the most part, but it's not with out a lot of failure and a good deal of squeamishness.
My husband is from the Czech Republic, for anyone not aware, and he has been challenged by his foray into American cuisine. He grew up in a small town riddled with four and five star hotels, and even studied things about the restaurant business in school, so to say he has "ideas" is an understatement. I've been well aware since his arrival here, that he has been hugely missing the food of his homeland. We went out a lot when we were back in Czech, and there were certain dishes that he positively adored. His birthday is coming up next week, and it's my dream to recreate one of these dishes for that occasion. In preparation for this task, I decided to start making some attempts at other Czech food.
So, after finding some lovely resources online, including a blog that I think will become my new go-to for all things helpful and Czech, I was able to plan a menu for the evening. Just a brief plug for this blog, it's written by a woman who moved to the US from Czech several years ago and wanted to provide an updated sight for other Czechs and Slovaks who find themselves in the US. I already think she's wonderful, even after visiting her sight a few times. Anyhow, I decided on the above title. For those not familiar with Czech menus, that's a fried chicken steak, potato salad and tartar sauce. Granted, none of these things are like their traditional American counterparts, so I couldn't just cheat and substitute, but had to really work with the recipes.
I started working on it around 5, thinking that it shouldn't take terribly long to throw it all together. First, I started boiling the potatoes. It was a good thing I thought of that first since the internet informed me it could take 40 to 60 minutes for them to be ready, then they would need to cool to make the salad. Did I mention I'm a cooking novice? Anyhow, I at least trusted my boiling egg and potato skills enough not to stare at the pots for the duration, and I mixed up the tatarska. It was a bit sour, but with a few suggestions from my Love, I was able to add some sugar and help it to be okay. Except when making spaghetti sauce, improvising is definitely NOT my strong suit.
Once I had a bunch of ingredients chopped up and ready, I decided to tackle the chicken. I remembered watching the cooking show and seeing Agata Hanychova, a famous Czech supermodel, making the same dish. (I wanted to supply a link, but had trouble finding any with only appropriate pictures...) I decided that if she could get her hands all covered in raw chicken then I should be able to as well. So I forced myself to just go with it. To make this dish the meat has to be pounded, but I couldn't find a meat pounder. Julie didn't have one, and when I called Mom she said she didn't actually have one either. So, with Mom's advice, I improvised. I put the meat between two plastic cutting boards and beat it with a big pan. It was, well, I guess effective. It took quite a while and I never got the meat as thin as I should have, but at least it sort of worked.
In the end, I managed to get the meat all nicely breaded and fried, gently peeled and cut the potatoes and mixed them gently into a salad, and served it up with tatarska on the side. I won't say that it looked or tasted quite like the Czech originals, but it worked. And when I brought it down it was accepted as pleasing and he even told me it tasted really good. I think the fact that it took me three hours also showed him what an act of love it really was.
So at 8 we ate, and by ten I was nearly falling asleep in front of the TV. I can't say that this inspired me to dedicate all day every day to the art of cooking, but at least I managed. I did take some pictures, but they didn't turn out super good, and I haven't put them on my computer yet, but I'll have to have a photo post one of these days. My blog has gotten awfully wordy, and that only works for so long, so I promise to make it more colorful soon.

Of Paychecks, Sunshine and Cemeteries...

So today, for the first time since June of last year, I finally had income. Pretty amazing. I've always been pretty good at saving money, but this whole having a husband thing makes it a lot more challenging. After all, he has to eat. And he's a man. And a fairly young with high metabolism one at that. So after all the airline tickets, the wedding, and the food, it's great to finally get something back. Not that my part time job provided a whopper of a pay check, but at least enough to cover about a third of our most recent paperwork fee. At least it's all in now, so all we have to do is wait at the mercy of the government. We'll see how that goes.
In other news, it's sunny. It's been in the 70's several days this week, and I couldn't be happier about that. Now if the gas prices will just go down like some person on the radio said they should, life would definitely improve. Mark and I have been doing quite a bit of exploring over the past several weeks as the weather has gotten better, and it takes a toll on that gas bill for sure.
We're currently living in Moscow, ID. For those who don't know anything about Moscow, well, it's a far cry from Hong Kong or the Czech Republic. It's a little town with a fair sized state university, plopped down right in the middle of the Palouse. The Palouse is a region of Idaho and Washington characterized by it's rolling hills of farmland. It's surrounded by a large number of miniscule village like towns, tucked away in the hills at the end of winding dirt roads.
Since Mark and I are both fascinated by history, and the life stories revealed in cemeteries, we've been meandering about on these little byways in search of historical treasure. I think I wrote about one of the little cemeteries we went to a few weeks ago. Yesterday we were driving into Genessee after taking a long circuitous route along Lenville road. The sun broke through the scattered gray clouds to reveal a cemetery on a hill. It was a bit chilly, but we braved the cold and checked out the remnants of Pine Valley, a place that no longer even seems to exist except as recorded in the Cemetery. Someone had erected a stone there that talked about the family connections that could be witnessed when looking at the scattered graves.
Today, we went in a different direction. This time our search took us to Little Bear Ridge Cemetery, a very small plot that held maybe thirty or so stones. Again, this little place recounted the lives of early settlers, remembered only in this bit of ground set apart long ago. We then made our way to Burnt Ridge Cemetery. This one revealed a strong Swedish population. It was really quite fascinating. Of course, Mark had to harness his feelings regarding the fact that Sweden beat the Czech Republic in Hockey today (after the Czech's totally slaughtered the Americans a few days ago of course), but he managed to do so. It seemed that a large community had come there together to start a new life, probably during the famine that hit Sweden in the 1860s. Many of the stones were even written in Swedish. It made me think of my own maternal lineage, and how most of them settled out in Minnesota in that era.
As always, I was fascinated to think of the lives of the people, now nestled peacefully on these little hilltops. There was evidence of great loves and tragic losses sprinkled across the quiet green field. It reminds me of our frailty and the importance of living this life to the fullest while we have a chance.
So in honor of these thoughts we enjoyed half price frappucinos from Starbucks and later on buy one get one free frozen strawberry lemonades from McDonalds. So the weekend is on. I have three days off, so hopefully the nice weather will hold, although I've heard there are thunderstorms in the forecast. At least that could be interesting, and could mean the warm weather will continue as well. As always, here's to hope!

Altering Changes

I've been thinking a lot recently about the ways that life can change in a moment. Changes so drastic that they completely erase a way of life. Sometimes these changes are expected, sometimes they come as a complete surprise, but either way, the result can be a permanent state of affairs.
Every day there are people around the world who decide to change their diets. Some do this in a very dramatic way, others "fudge" on a regular basis. All the same, most of them know in the back of their minds that they can give in to their urges is they so desire, they can change their minds back, and return to their former lifestyle. But imagine you're a six year old boy who loves gummy snacks and pancakes and a wide variety of typical kid foods. Your parents might not let you fully gorge on these things, but you regularly experience healthy doses of all sorts of sweetie goodness. Then, one weekend you get really thirsty and the next thing you know there are doctors poking you with needles and telling you that all those beautiful carbohydrates are now dangerous to you, potentially life threatening, even. That's what happened to my nephew Rowan this weekend. One day a sugar-a-holic in true kid fashion, the next day he's informed he's almost certainly diabetic. Talk about a total life change.
As Mother's Day has just gone by I've also been thinking a lot about my friend Becky who was killed in a car accident just a few days after Christmas 2010. All she was doing was driving home from work. Now her husband and two beautiful little girls have to face every day without her. This week she will posthumously be awarded her doctorate in pharmacy. She had plans and dreams. The last time I saw her she was talking about how they'd had their kids young and were going to travel the world when they left the house while they were still young enough to enjoy it. She sorta wanted to live my kind of life in reverse. She was going to try to come to my wedding... And in a moment Christmas and Mother's Day became tragic occasions to her sweet family.
I know there are changes that can be good too. Changes that bring joy and light and laughter. But it's the heavy changes I've been contemplating, trying to wrap my head around. How do you make something so contradictory to what is right and good and normal in the world? I don't have any answers.
As the weather here has been warming up my mood has improved a bit, but I fear it's only temporary. In those days when it was cold and dark and wet, I found myself checking the temperature in Hong Kong. Stupid, stupid. But I did it and was reminded of the choices I made regarding that magical place. I remember the day I left after my first year there. The world I'd expected to be a dream had become such a vivid reality that I had difficulty grasping how I could ever face life back in the US. And true to my state, when I got back it just didn't feel right. I made every attempt I could to return as soon as possible. And 8 months later I was back again where I knew I was supposed to be. For another year and a half I lived that life, then in March of 2005 I left again. With no promise of a return trip. More than 6 years have passed and all that remains of that life are these beautiful memories that are more like dreams than concrete reality. And I'll never live that life again. When I got on that plane that life was finished.
Even my life in Czech came to a solid end. There is the potential to return, but nothing would be the same because my school no longer exists, etc.
I know you can never turn back the clock. Every day is something new and different. The past is done. But sometimes the new day is more different...

Enjoying the small things

Life isn't one big ball of endless happiness. Maybe some people are good at finding the beauty in every day, learning how to life each moment to the fullest, and seeing the bright side of every situation, but I'm not one of those people. Never have been.
I remember how funny I found it when one of my students described me as an optimist. Um, say that again? Me? Not what most people who met me at the age of 15 would have thought for sure. Perhaps it has something to do with the dramatic side of my nature, the artist that would be if given the chance and the motivation and the right connections.
It's been pointed out on more than one occasion, unfortunately by more than one person, that I'm good at...well...making excuses. That's not a pretty way to define it. Personally, I'd just say I'm good at rationalization, or at explaining the hows and whys of my life. If you don't think I have much to show for the years that have passed and the dreams that I've nurtured, take a look at my scrapbooks and photo albums. So my bank account is a weak point, I've still managed to see a sizable chunk of the world and to have accumulated a decent backlog of stories worth telling. And there comes that handy explanation. Why am I not a published novelist? I've been too busy getting out there and living. Some people find that to be an excuse. Well, let them. I really wouldn't trade the choices I've made for the ideals of someone else.
As usual, I've managed to get pretty far off topic. The point of this post was to say that, while it's easy for me to get bogged down in the mundane, trapped in the sameness and my personal disillusionment, there are those little moments that wake me up and remind me that there are bright spots in the world. And today I managed to have a bright sort of experience.
Moscow hasn't exactly figured out that it's Spring just yet. Sure, there are moments of shy surrender to the sun, but they're far too short lived for my taste. Having long been negatively effected by inclement weather, this lack of warmth and beauty has been wearing on me to say the least.
Today Mark and I decided we needed to get the hoo ha out of here and see something new. It's been a trend this week actually. We've taken a number of trips around the area and discovered some quaint country villages on the meandering roads of the Palouse. This time our drifting took us in the direction of Colfax. On the way there we saw a sign for a park and decided to see where the road would take us. We wandered around on dirt roads for a bit and finally arrived at Klemgard Park. It wasn't anything hugely spectacular, but there was a nice picnic type area and we found a little trail that wove it's way through the little forest clump. The Palouse is generally known for it's barren farmed hillsides, so every time there's something like a forest they seem to turn it into a park.
We watched chipmunks cavorting through the underbrush, listened to birds twittering about spring, followed butterfly trails across our path, and enjoyed little waterfalls as we followed the needle covered trail. It was a nice bit of exercise, and a good fresh air experience. The real miracle was that the sky was suddenly blue, the temperature soared to around fifty, and it truly felt good to be alive.
After completing the park circuit we continued along the dirt road that eventually led us to Colfax. On the way we did some long overdue Czech practice. I've let my studies down, which is definitely a weakness of mine. (Again, I have a long list of very practical reasons why my Czech skills are lacking. And none of them are lies either, but they still don't make up for the fact that learning Czech is something I need to figure out how to do.) I named different things I could see, and tried to answer Mark's questions.
We ended in Colfax where we were on a hunt for zmrzlina (aka ice cream). We didn't find any sort of fancy parlour, but instead checked out a local Rosauers grocery store. Much to our delight we discovered that, not only did they have Magnum bars on sale, they also had a solitary box of Pilsner Urquell! It was like a little gift from European soil right there in a small old fashioned Washington farm town. Who knew?
So the small things in life remember that there is always a reason to find joy in this world. Last week we watched "The Pianist" and were reminded of just how cruel mankind can be, and just how beautiful a loaf of bread with berry jam is.
I know I need to stop making excuses. I know that, even living in Moscow, ID, even working in retail, even having what appears to be a small life at the moment, is a blessing. And you just never know when you'll walk into a store in the middle of nowhere and find just what you've been looking for.

What a Wonder, it's the Weekend

Well, we seem to have made it through yet another week. My parents are on the road once again, this time with Adelia and Rowan along. Means things should be extra quiet around here for a few days at least. They almost forgot to bring the poodles with them, but fortunately Mitzi and Trixie weren't forgotten for long.
Things at work continue to swish along in that predicted fashion. By this point I basically know the drift. I'm still new enough to be forgiven when I have questions. And even when I just go out on a limb and make a mistake they're pretty gracious to point it out but not overly criticize. Having worked at jobs where priority number one seemed to be criticism, I'm at least thankful that doesn't seem to be the case this time around. Doubt I'll make retail a permanent lifelong choice, but for now it's doing the trick, and I have to fight the incessant urge to use my store discount. It's brutal really. Ah well.
As things at work sort of level out, I've started talking a bit more to some of the people there. I don't want to be the annoying sort of person who name drops. No one can stand a one upper, if you get my drift. But when people start asking about what I did before I came here, or what my life is like, it's hard not to sound like that sort of person. I mean, I have been a lot of places. I have had a lot of different and interesting jobs. I'm not your typical retail lifer for sure. And my age is so strange. I'm much older than the young ones and much younger than the old ones. Makes it hard to know where to fit, hard not to be making comparisons. And when frames come in with pictures of Michelangelo's David, or London phone booths, it's hard not to point out that I've been there, seen that. I'm not doing it to make anyone feel worse than they do, only to hopefully open their minds to the beauty of travel.
I was talking to a girl on Thursday and she really seemed into the whole idea of getting out there and seeing the world. It was great to be able to share some of my experiences and to see her get excited about some of the options that might be open to her. I think so many people just don't know what all they can do. They look at their personal finances and limit themselves to dead end jobs. But the truth is, the world is out there, just waiting to be experienced. I've been all over the place, and never had anything to speak of in my bank account. Now when it comes to retirement time, I might sing some other song, but for the moment I say, just get out there and live.
Of course then that makes me start questioning what I'm doing at the moment. I start seeing the places my peers are checking out all over Europe and it gets that travel bug all stirred up. And I see the light of longing for Czech soil in the eyes of my Love and I know we need to get back there soon, one way or another. Even though that bizarre nesting bug is squirreling around in my insides as well, I can't quite banish the transient gene that has overtaken so much of my adult life thus far. So hard to find the balance.
I guess that means I really do need to get serious about writing and find some way to get a big publishing contract. I've also been thinking about some of the prospects of e-self publishing. There are some advantages to taking that route, but then I have to figure out just how to market myself. Having never even been very good at writing resumes, it's a bit of a challenge to imagine myself taking on that level of self-promotion...hmmm...
But for now, it's the weekend. Unless I get called in for some extra time again, I'm facing two days of relative freedom. Unfortunately the rain clouds seem to have swept back in. There were a couple positively glorious weather days this week. We weren't quite pushing 80, but there was sun in the blue sky, and jackets weren't required 100% of the time, so it was a start. I just wish the weather would decide to stick with the spring to summer option, rather than rushing all jubilantly back into being cold wet and gucky. (sigh)

Into the Swing

And so it flows. Life captures a rhythm and catapults me into a running momentum. The days begin to blend. Their flavor softens into a dull monotone. Get up. Throw self together. Head out the door. Then rush rush rush and say that it all matters, all the while knowing it'll be the same again the next day and the next.
I got called in for an extra shift on Saturday. Mark and I were enjoying the beautiful sunshine, walking around the Moscow cemetery when the call came in. Not sure if I mentioned the last cemetery we went to in one of my posts. If not, it was a pretty incredible place. (Yes, this is an aside in the middle of a paragraph again. I swear I don't do this when I write for "real.") It was a small family cemetery mostly. Many of the stones must have been damaged beyond recognition only to be replaced by little plaques saying things like "Mrs. Johnson" when they couldn't figure everything out. The one we were at Saturday sprawls out over a quiet green hillside. The stones are varied and numerous. The old section is, well, quite old. There was clear evidence of hard eras when, perhaps, a bout of influenza cleared a bunch of people out. The large baby section is a quiet witness to just how hard it was for life to press on in those pioneer days. There is even a solitary crypt, as well as a couple plots that reveal a strong European influence.
It's always remarkable to wander through these peaceful burial grounds, reminded of all that has come before, and how all that is will one day be. We're all just travelers after all. Temporary pilgrims in this war tossed world. I wish it were easier for us to find rest and joy in the time we spend here, but, as evidenced by current events, we're not very good at doing that. (sigh)
Anyhow, I got a few extra hours of work in the middle of the weekend. I can use what I can get to be sure. Better to be someone they can count on than hoarding my time off. Plus, since I haven't been register trained, I got to work on "projects" the whole time. Things like colorizing the ties (exercise in futility) and making the ends of rows all pretty and themed. In toys I created a Princess display in honor of the Royal Wedding. I wasn't one of those who got up early in the morning to watch the proceedings, but I did take in a rerun just for the fun of it. Mark and I both remarked on how easy it must have been for them. They could just say, "I'd like this" and it was done and more than paid for. Far less stress. Well, except for the bit about having the whole world watching.
After the fabulous weather we had yesterday, it appears that the clouds have returned. At least it's not too cold. We were really able to enjoy the day. (Another aside, a big branch just fell on the roof. It was so loud I was afraid a tree might have fallen, but it doesn't look like it did any damage so all is well.) Anyhow, we checked out a park we'd never been too, played a game of soggy Frisbee (I still totally lack throwing talent) and checked out the Renaissance Fair. In all, a busy and enjoyable Sunday. So nice not to have to be bundled up for a change. Yes, I'm totally looking forward to Summer. Hopefully we'll have one this year.
My parents are home for a few days which changes the color of life around here as well. It's always nice to see them and to catch up on the little adventure they're having out in Montana. All the same, that work schedule pattern has got me in it's grasp and I know that time will continue spinning faster and faster with each passing day until I suddenly discover myself old and gray...horrifically frightening thought, perhaps even more so in rhyme...