November 31

Naive longing

Bound to happen sooner or later

November 30

Fall weekend

November 29

November 28

Thankgiving

My first college course, my first fall away from home (eleven long years ago), was a writing intensive "California culture" course. We had very vague writing prompts, that may have been followed by something like "or write whatever you feel like writing." I think we were supposed to be writing persuasive essays, or thoughtful analyses on the nature of culture. I ended up writing about my personal observations of my immediate culture, then comparing them to the ideas posed by our readings. The professor loved it and I earned a very high "A" in the course.

One of the essays I always remember was talking about Thanksgiving. I wrote something like how it was all this work and all these family members I mostly didn't know, the awkwardness, the good food, etc. When I found the essay years later, I was surprised by how much negative sarcasm it was riddled with. I am a sarcastic person-- it is my style of humor-- but mostly I was recounting these activities in such a negative light.

I bring this up because I really did feel those things at that time. Thanksgiving was a stressful, frustrating ritual filled with food catching fire, smelly old folks swapping pills, pomp and circumstance and uncomfortable shoes. As far as I was concerned, it was an interesting experience I would skip if I could and would not participate in as an adult (other than going to relatives' homes and letting them do it).

There was a trend on t.v. shows of friends in their 20s getting together and having a Thanksgiving of their own, sans family. I tried that once for a person I was living with. I cooked all day and prepped for two. We sat down at the meal, and it was over in fifteen minutes. "Well," I thought, "I tried, but it still seems pretty stupid."

Last summer, I read a memoir, "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle." The details aren't important, but she pointed out a detail I had never thought about. The idea of this meal replicating a celebration made by religious zealots (who were dumb and planned poorly), in honor of actually overcoming their racism and hence, not starving to death, always seemed a little lame. As I was reading more about food culture, about how (before trade) you only ate what was in season, or what could store over winter, the idea of the pumpkin pie and squash soup was appealing for the first time. Having never been a fan of pumpkin pie, this was quite a discovery. The sweet, fruity, squashiness was delicious as it had never been. The memoir went on to talk about all the traditional Thanksgiving staples as being native and inherent to the North American continent, hence, a truly American meal (turkey, cornbread, pumpkin pie, etc.).

This year, I made the decision not to go home for Thanksgiving, in leu of going home for the winter break. I kept saying I would 'probably' make a meal, but kept secretly hoping to be invited to someone else's. J came back for the week, and mostly we have been hanging around, killing time (I hate killing time). I kept saying, "you don't mind if I don't do Thanksgiving dinner, right?" and he kept saying, "not at all." But I was feeling guilty about it. Top it off with a whole week of hanging around town or the city (i.e. not making art or applying to jobs, i.e. killing time), I felt this was a truly wrong decision. Last night, around 9PM, I said, "J, I don't have a plan. I don't have recipes picked out, but I am making a shopping list and we are having Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow."

Thus began the ritual of cooking a meal, preparing a bird (we had a free-range, local-farm chicken instead of a giant turkey), preparing sidedishes (the one time of year I make multiple sides of veggies), gravy (I don't even like gravy), and taking a stab at an heirloom stuffing receipe and a pumpkin pie (why didn't I just buy one?). I couldn't believe how gross and fascinating it was to separate the skin of an animal from its muscles, to thrush my fingers in that new space, pushing in tiny cubes of butter, cloves of garlic, and twigs of rosemary. J looked at me like I was crazy as I revealed the secret ingredient to my home-prepped sun-dried tomatoes.

It took all day.

I utilized every culinary technique I have learned in my life. J went out and bought a meat thermometer for me (nope, didn't have one). My step-mother's stuffing (recipe retrieved from an internet site which copied it out of sunset magazine). I marveled at the beautiful smells of the fresh herbs-- from the food and the tips of my fingers. I remember when it was first published, her outrage at the maazine's inclussion of the phrase "can be substituted for dried herbs." At least the internet copy removed that phrase from the receipe. Chopped onions in everything (the finer the better, but what a chore). Cornbread for the stuffing (did I leave my skillet in the last rental?). Potatoes, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, bacon-greese gravy. Cranberry sauce. Zuchinni and yellow squash. Country-style biscuits.

The point is, I made it, it took hours, and it was delicious. The onions tasted of butter and rosemary. I never noticed flavors transfer that way. The gravy still tasted like bacon, ergo, I loved it.

November 27

November 26

November 25

Battle wounds and the Return

November 24

Sunday morning with the heater on

November 23

Train rides

I have always heard about the novelty of the train running on time. It was cited as one thing the Nazis did that didn't suck. I never understood the issue. Trains in California were always on time.

Then there is the Crawfordsville train. Rumored to be up to three hours late (departing sometime between 7am on) and taking 4 hours to get to Chicago. It arrived on time this morning. No waiting in the freezing cold predawn twilight. It went the twenty miles to Lafayette (hey, I was here yesterday for my haircut) then suddenly stopped for an hour an a half. We arrived at Chicago at noon, got to a resturant 45 minutes later, waited 30 minutes for a table, 45 minutes for a $30 deep dish (soggy) pizza-- only one hour to look at art then head back to the train station. Who knows how long to get home?

Millenium park was cooler than I thought it would be. And my coat was perfectly warm and light for city travel in freezing temperatures.

I was taken back by traffic, crowds, tourists, and agressive pan handlers. Don't miss any of that. I do miss the twinkley lights, designer shops, hip art centers, public art, public transportation. Oh, I am not a country mouse, but also not a city one. Where will I end up?

Sent from my iPhone

Chicago

November 22

November 21

Shades

Video

I posted a video of the installation process on my "News" blog. It is complicated to have more than one blog! It is just for fun. I am going to be posting new "Here2Indiana" content soon!

November 20

November 19

November 18

November 17

November 16

November 15

Sleeping on the couch

Because my dad is in town.

November 14

November 13

Rethinking

I know it is Wednesday at 11 o'clock in the morning. It is the one time the whole town knows, because they are testing the tornado warning siren. I never know what time it is by the sun. The sun rises after 7:30 and sets before 5:30. It is always partially dark when I am outside. Most days are bleak and overcast-- constant cloud cover. On Monday, the day looked so beautiful, I walked to work. I realized it was because it was sunny-- 36 degrees and sunny, so I walked. Today is cloudy and 50 degrees, and I could barely drive my car to work.

When I need a mental break, I look at sail boats online. This morning, I found a blog of a young couple who sailed a boat (one of the ones I am looking at) across the Pacific ocean. The photos are amazing. (I feel like I haven't seen anything amazing in a while.)

The most I can do right now is book my holiday flight to California. It looks similar to those pictures, though the water was never that blue, and it is very cold. I wonder if I will wear shorts there?

November 12

November 11

November 10

Sunday in Cleveland

I am riding a bus to the Museum of Contemporary Art. Two things I
don't have in Crawfordsville. A somewhat crazy my asked me how Victor
Mandella was doing. It is overcast, cold, but somehow refreshing. (Is
this my stop? Is this 83rd St.?) the crazy man gets off at 53rd and
another man takes his place.

Sent from my iPhone

November 9

Destroying the image

November 8

November 7

Airport continued

P.S. Yes, we can.

Cleveland

Off to the SPE conference. There will be a new airport in Indy when I get back. And an empty house (full of hungry cats).

Sent from my iPhone

November 6

November 5

November 4

November 3

One more walk in Shades

Life takes us to strange places, down strange roads, and presents us with queer options. In May of 2007, I was offered a job in Indiana. I was going to take it, but I wasn't sure if J should come with me, or continue his work in California until we figured our next move. He came with me-- I made him swear it was because he wanted to. He did it for us. I was doing it for my career.

J has just taken a (similarly temporary) job in California. He is moving back. We looked at our schedules and realized this morning today was the last weekend day we would have to ourselves before he left. After having pancakes and coffee, we headed for our favorite wilderness. Shades (of Death) State Park.
It is a totally different color now than the hyper green it was only two months ago. Everything is gold and leaves spinning. The pond was so covered, you couldn't tell where the earth fell into the water.

November 2

November 1