A very odd thing happened in our family on Sunday. Something that, I'm one hundred percent sure, has never occurred in the 15 years that Will and I have been together. There we sat, the four of us, at a sporting event. A game had just ended and players for the next were filtering onto the field when Will said "Well, we better go." and I replied, wait for it...
"Do we have to?"
Now for those of you who watch sports, that might not seem strange. But trust me. It is. I hate sports. I would rather stick pins in my eyes than watch an actual football game all the way through. Unless my children are playing (and if I'm honest, even if they are) I'm totally bored at a soccer game. I once infamously ditched my husband and father in law at a Nascar race and watched Pride and Prejudice (the Colin Firth version, naturally) on the in-car entertainment system in the parking lot.
It's not all my fault. I wasn't raised in a sporting family. Other than a slight lingering and DNA induced interest in Arsenal, I never once heard my father show interest in a professional sporting event. It's just who we are. We talk (a lot) we read, we write, we cook, we play. But we do not watch sports. (Well, now a days my parents sometimes watch Mizzou football and my brother somehow came out of childhood with a mild interest in sports, but in general, we are not sports people)
So what was this miraculous sport that had me glued to the hard metal seats of the bleachers? Gaelic Football. Yes, Gaelic football. I know. You didn't even know you could watch Gaelic football in the US (Heck, you probably didn't really know there was such a thing as Gaelic Football, right?) But you can, and we did, and I loved it. But not for the reasons you might think.
Yes. I love Ireland and just about all things Irish. But no, that's not where this is coming from. Although, I do have strong feelings about some teams that stem entirely from conversations with cab drivers in Dublin. (Root for Dublin first and after that, anyone playing against Cork) and that probably helps. However, my interest in Gaelic Football goes back much further than our time spent living on the little green island. All the way back to Highschool PE in Pendleton, Oregon and a teacher called Coach Freeman.
As you may have guessed, I didn't do sports in Highschool. I joined the Dance team primarily because it filled the PE credit at the school I attended for my first two years. After that, I became a master at getting out of whatever we were doing in PE that day. Until Speedball came around.
I cannot for the life of me figure out how a coach in a very small town on the far side of the US came to adapt Gaelic Football into the sport we called Speedball (and thought he invented for us) , but he did, and we were crazy for it. I was crazy for it. I even got myself a pair of cleats and talked the teachers into letting me play with the guys. As much as I hated PE before, I loved it now. It even became, of all things, my favorite class for a while.
So fast forward a decade and there I am, sitting on our red couch in our apartment in Ireland, a book in my lap, ready to grit my teeth through yet another sporting event on TV when I realize, "Hey, I know this game! I LOVE this game." Because Speedball, as it turns out, is pretty much identical to Gaelic Football. (It's also similar to Aussi Rules football, by the way, except I think the Australians use a rugby ball instead of a soccer ball)
Living in the US has, as you may have guessed, limited the amount of Gaelic Football watching that I've been able to do. I haven't' seen a game in years. So when I my dad reminded me that there was a New York Branch of the Gaelic Athletic Association, I looked it up before he had even finished his sentence. And there it was, a game, straight up the subway line from us, the very next day. Three, back to back games, in fact.
So we went, and watched, and the kids ran around with a bunch of other kids, kicking a ball and making a racket that no one seemed to mind because, well, that's what kids do, and we had a great time. So great that I totally forgot to take any pictures, never picked up my knitting once and didn't look at a single page of my book, which when it comes to me and sports, is unheard of. Holy cow.
I think I'm in danger of becoming an actual sports fan. Oh New York. what have you done?
Somebody save me.
August 8, 2011
older
The summer I turned 18, I spent a week in a tiny village north of Rome going through "language camp" before heading off to a stint as a foreign exchange student. While the whole summer had a profound influence on me, that week was, in many ways, the most memorable.
I was the oldest student in the group and that was a strange feeling for me. Between having an August birthday and living in states with August and September kindergarten cut-offs, I have spent my life being the youngest at everything. But here, for once, I was the mature one, the oldest, the one who, purely by my age alone, was the leader of the group.
That lasted for about a day. And then I started feeling young again.
Another girl - her name, like that of the little village, is lost in the folds of my brain - quickly turned into the oldest in the group. She was 16, a New Yorker, and just by looking at her you could see that she had seen and done far more than an almost 18 year old from a small wheat farming town in Eastern Oregon. Everything she did, from the way she dressed to the way she talked to how she shaved her legs, perched on the edge of her bed with a can of thick pink foam and a small bowl of water to rinse the sleek razor in, exuded a worldliness that I could never hope to match.
The sensation of feeling younger than everyone else has followed me around through my adult life as well. It's not good or bad, it just is. I finished college early, finished grad school quickly, had a baby when most of my friends were still doing the bar thing. All my choice, all things I wanted to do when I did them. Just all slightly before others in my age group. And as a result, when I stand in a group of parents of nine year olds, I am usually the youngest in the group.
For a long time I have been a little self conscious about this status. You know how people lie about their age? Well I don't precisely lie, I just avoid telling. I have felt, many a times, that if I came out and said "yeah, that show you're talking about watching as a kid, I wasn't born yet when that was on." I might find myself sans friends. Or at least with some odd looks. I can't tell you how many times I've heard the expression "Oh, you're just a baby!" through the years. As a bride, a grad student, a teacher, a parent. It's the universally nice way of saying "Shit! You're how old?"
This weekend I turned 34. And, for the first time since I was ten, I'm starting to feel the right age. Almost as if my age has caught up to my life. I not even sure if it's a change in the number or a change in the location that I'm feeling. After all, no one is odd here because everyone is odd. I mean, I saw an ancient lady hobbling along our street the other day in a plain brown housecoat and above the knee purple glitter cheetah print rainboots the other day, and also a guy cruising around with a washcloth perched on his head. So having a nine year old at 34 is pretty blase by comparison, ya know?
I haven't quite decided if this whole "feeling my age" thing is a good move or not. On the one hand, I don't feel like I have to pretend to have watched Hogan's Heros (actually, I recently watched that show for the first time, hilarious. And also stupid. But hilarious-stupid) But also, well, I'm starting to realize that it's time to get a move on and do something with my life. I've spent almost a decade being a mom, I've bought my self one more year of being at home because of homeschooling (although I promise that's not why) but after this, well, my kids will be in school and it will be time to get myself a purpose outside of making playdough with koolaid. Not that I couldn't happily make Koolaid playdough all day for the rest of my life, but since there won't be anyone at home to play with it, well, it might get a little old after a while.
I remember this feeling from that summer, long ago. The pre-college, time to decide who-you-will-be-in-life moment. The feeling that you have, what, 6- months? A year? to figure out who you will be for the rest of your life. Its crap, of course, people change who they are many times in their lives, but you feel it nonetheless. And, although I am older and wiser and know that I too, will get to reinvent my life many times in the coming years, I can't help but feel that tick-tick-tick who will you be when your kids are all away at school.
Have you gone through that? I wonder if most women who have been stay at home moms feel that pressure? When I was in college I latched onto careers that were in my family tree. Journalist and teacher. They were familiar and soft and known. But since then I've often marveled at all of the interesting careers out there that I never knew about. Like, you know, Fossil Explainer. Who knew you could be a Fossil Explainer in this world?
Did you return to the career you had pre kids or start on a whole new one?
I was the oldest student in the group and that was a strange feeling for me. Between having an August birthday and living in states with August and September kindergarten cut-offs, I have spent my life being the youngest at everything. But here, for once, I was the mature one, the oldest, the one who, purely by my age alone, was the leader of the group.
That lasted for about a day. And then I started feeling young again.
Another girl - her name, like that of the little village, is lost in the folds of my brain - quickly turned into the oldest in the group. She was 16, a New Yorker, and just by looking at her you could see that she had seen and done far more than an almost 18 year old from a small wheat farming town in Eastern Oregon. Everything she did, from the way she dressed to the way she talked to how she shaved her legs, perched on the edge of her bed with a can of thick pink foam and a small bowl of water to rinse the sleek razor in, exuded a worldliness that I could never hope to match.
The sensation of feeling younger than everyone else has followed me around through my adult life as well. It's not good or bad, it just is. I finished college early, finished grad school quickly, had a baby when most of my friends were still doing the bar thing. All my choice, all things I wanted to do when I did them. Just all slightly before others in my age group. And as a result, when I stand in a group of parents of nine year olds, I am usually the youngest in the group.
For a long time I have been a little self conscious about this status. You know how people lie about their age? Well I don't precisely lie, I just avoid telling. I have felt, many a times, that if I came out and said "yeah, that show you're talking about watching as a kid, I wasn't born yet when that was on." I might find myself sans friends. Or at least with some odd looks. I can't tell you how many times I've heard the expression "Oh, you're just a baby!" through the years. As a bride, a grad student, a teacher, a parent. It's the universally nice way of saying "Shit! You're how old?"
This weekend I turned 34. And, for the first time since I was ten, I'm starting to feel the right age. Almost as if my age has caught up to my life. I not even sure if it's a change in the number or a change in the location that I'm feeling. After all, no one is odd here because everyone is odd. I mean, I saw an ancient lady hobbling along our street the other day in a plain brown housecoat and above the knee purple glitter cheetah print rainboots the other day, and also a guy cruising around with a washcloth perched on his head. So having a nine year old at 34 is pretty blase by comparison, ya know?
I haven't quite decided if this whole "feeling my age" thing is a good move or not. On the one hand, I don't feel like I have to pretend to have watched Hogan's Heros (actually, I recently watched that show for the first time, hilarious. And also stupid. But hilarious-stupid) But also, well, I'm starting to realize that it's time to get a move on and do something with my life. I've spent almost a decade being a mom, I've bought my self one more year of being at home because of homeschooling (although I promise that's not why) but after this, well, my kids will be in school and it will be time to get myself a purpose outside of making playdough with koolaid. Not that I couldn't happily make Koolaid playdough all day for the rest of my life, but since there won't be anyone at home to play with it, well, it might get a little old after a while.
I remember this feeling from that summer, long ago. The pre-college, time to decide who-you-will-be-in-life moment. The feeling that you have, what, 6- months? A year? to figure out who you will be for the rest of your life. Its crap, of course, people change who they are many times in their lives, but you feel it nonetheless. And, although I am older and wiser and know that I too, will get to reinvent my life many times in the coming years, I can't help but feel that tick-tick-tick who will you be when your kids are all away at school.
Have you gone through that? I wonder if most women who have been stay at home moms feel that pressure? When I was in college I latched onto careers that were in my family tree. Journalist and teacher. They were familiar and soft and known. But since then I've often marveled at all of the interesting careers out there that I never knew about. Like, you know, Fossil Explainer. Who knew you could be a Fossil Explainer in this world?
Did you return to the career you had pre kids or start on a whole new one?
August 5, 2011
snippets from the week
Because we spent the week playing turbo tourists, I didn't tote my camera around town most of the time. Too much weight. So most of these are iphone pics, but fun all the same.
The Zoo! I forgot that we went to the zoo. Was that just a week ago? Wow, it feels like, well, longer than a week. On this trip to the Central Park Zoo we visited the Children's Zoo for the first time and Evelyn made friends with this Alpaca. She spent an hour tempting him with zoo treats, squealing every time he licked one out of her hand. They had to kick us out when the zoo closed.
The play on Saturday was a bust. We went, roaring in right as the play was about to start only to find that they had cancelled the show that day because no one else was there. Although I don't actually think Evie knew what a play was, she was disappointed none the less, so off we went to Serendipity where she ate an ice cream sunday as big as her head.
I noticed a few weeks ago that most of the benches in Central Part have memorial plaques. I try to read them as I pass (when I can, I'm usually saying either "hurry up!" or "Wait! Wait!" when I walk in the park). This one is my favorite so far. How sweet is that?
Waiting, waiting... when will they get here!
I'm not sure what this thing is embedded in the sidewalk down in Soho, but it was layered with stickers and looked sort of stunning next to the gray of the sidewalk and the black of the street.
Boat time!
You think that they are looking at the Brooklyn Bridge, but in fact it's the Mr. Softie Ice Cream Truck that they are watching. Because we never see any of those...
Chillin. On the boat. Just two guys and the Statue of Liberty.
The Zoo! I forgot that we went to the zoo. Was that just a week ago? Wow, it feels like, well, longer than a week. On this trip to the Central Park Zoo we visited the Children's Zoo for the first time and Evelyn made friends with this Alpaca. She spent an hour tempting him with zoo treats, squealing every time he licked one out of her hand. They had to kick us out when the zoo closed.
The play on Saturday was a bust. We went, roaring in right as the play was about to start only to find that they had cancelled the show that day because no one else was there. Although I don't actually think Evie knew what a play was, she was disappointed none the less, so off we went to Serendipity where she ate an ice cream sunday as big as her head.
I noticed a few weeks ago that most of the benches in Central Part have memorial plaques. I try to read them as I pass (when I can, I'm usually saying either "hurry up!" or "Wait! Wait!" when I walk in the park). This one is my favorite so far. How sweet is that?
Waiting, waiting... when will they get here!
I'm not sure what this thing is embedded in the sidewalk down in Soho, but it was layered with stickers and looked sort of stunning next to the gray of the sidewalk and the black of the street.
Boat time!
You think that they are looking at the Brooklyn Bridge, but in fact it's the Mr. Softie Ice Cream Truck that they are watching. Because we never see any of those...
Chillin. On the boat. Just two guys and the Statue of Liberty.
August 4, 2011
island hopping
I have a thing for islands. My favorite places in the world are all islands. Ireland, England, The San Juan Islands, Nantucket, Bainbridge.... I haven't been to New Zealand but I'm pretty sure I'd love it there too.
For some reason, I find it hard to think of Manhattan as an Island. It is, I know, but it just doesn't seem that...island-like. I think it's the wind thing. If you'll notice, all of my islands are cold and windy and wet kind of islands, except for maybe Nantucket, but when we visited, it was, so it counts. I like the salt wind that makes your face sting a little and the smell of ocean water. Here the wind smells like, well, it's August and the streets are getting pretty hot, so I wont describe what the wind often smells like, but it's not ocean or salt or island. I'm sure it will be nicer in the fall.
Yesterday I got a wee little island fix. After two days of go-go-go sight seeing, we spent the day at a slower pace with a trip to the end of the line and then a ferry ride to Staten Island. I'm going to be honest, the fact that it was gray and threatening rain made me a little giddy-happy. Because I'm weird like that. The prospect of being out on the water, heading to an island in Northwest-like weather was just what I needed after the weeks of hot and humid days. We didn't actually plan on doing anything when we got there, it was more the ride over and back that we were after (although, I picked up some maps of the island and a day long trip back is high on our "To Do Before School Starts" list.) But for yesterday, it was enough to just ride on a boat and feel the wind and run around on the deck of the terminal with the city in the background.
It's wasn't quite the kind of island I am partial too, but it was close enough to count. Is it foolish to think that a few hours out in the wind, away from the city, can recharge your soul a little bit?
For some reason, I find it hard to think of Manhattan as an Island. It is, I know, but it just doesn't seem that...island-like. I think it's the wind thing. If you'll notice, all of my islands are cold and windy and wet kind of islands, except for maybe Nantucket, but when we visited, it was, so it counts. I like the salt wind that makes your face sting a little and the smell of ocean water. Here the wind smells like, well, it's August and the streets are getting pretty hot, so I wont describe what the wind often smells like, but it's not ocean or salt or island. I'm sure it will be nicer in the fall.
Yesterday I got a wee little island fix. After two days of go-go-go sight seeing, we spent the day at a slower pace with a trip to the end of the line and then a ferry ride to Staten Island. I'm going to be honest, the fact that it was gray and threatening rain made me a little giddy-happy. Because I'm weird like that. The prospect of being out on the water, heading to an island in Northwest-like weather was just what I needed after the weeks of hot and humid days. We didn't actually plan on doing anything when we got there, it was more the ride over and back that we were after (although, I picked up some maps of the island and a day long trip back is high on our "To Do Before School Starts" list.) But for yesterday, it was enough to just ride on a boat and feel the wind and run around on the deck of the terminal with the city in the background.
It's wasn't quite the kind of island I am partial too, but it was close enough to count. Is it foolish to think that a few hours out in the wind, away from the city, can recharge your soul a little bit?
August 3, 2011
big knits and little knits
When we visited New York over Spring Break, I caught a glimpse of a woman hurrying on to the subway at Broadway and 72nd, wearing the most beautiful sweater vest. I was in love. I have to have it. Also, I was freezing cold and a sweater seemed like heaven at the moment. The sweater in question was pretty close to this pattern from Quince and as I had a ton of leftover yarn from the last sweater I knit myself, I decided to give it a go. And now, what four months later? It's finally done. Just in time for the heat to well and truly set in.
I really like the shape and the fit of this sweater but the yarn, not so much. I knit the sweater in this because I had most of what I needed and I wasn't sure I would like how it looked on me. Now I'm wishing I'd gone ahead and knit it in a nicer yarn. This yarn isn't my favorite for a number of reasons, most of which would be boooring to anyone who isn't a knitter so I'll spare you. But the worst is pretty obvious, and really, it's my fault. I didn't note the dye lot when I bought the first two skeins and when I needed a third, well, as you can see, it totally didn't match.
The solution, I think, is to overdye the whole sweater, maybe a dark brown or greeny-brown. I've never done it so I'm not sure if it will work, but I guess it's worth a try. Anyone ever dyed a sweater before? Advice?
When this sweater got too big to haul around on the subway with me, I switched to some smaller projects. Now I would first like to say that these are NOT for me. No. Not at all. but they are pretty darn cute.
The booties are this pattern which is available free on Ravelry.
This hat is for a small girl acquaintance of mine but Evelyn and Will have already requested their own. It's a pattern that I made up and I'll share it with you once I work out the sizes for someone other than a one year old. I might even knit one for myself. I like that little elf peak!
I've got another hat in the works right now and am about to get started on some serious Christmas knitting. I know, Christmas? But Briton wants a hoodie sweater and that will take me ages. I hate sleeves (notice how my sweater was sleeveless? Ahh, I like sleeveless sweaters!)
Anyone else starting to get into homemade Christmas gift mode? I know it's crazy but it's going to take me the four months + to get done all the things I want to make, so I guess it's now or never!
I really like the shape and the fit of this sweater but the yarn, not so much. I knit the sweater in this because I had most of what I needed and I wasn't sure I would like how it looked on me. Now I'm wishing I'd gone ahead and knit it in a nicer yarn. This yarn isn't my favorite for a number of reasons, most of which would be boooring to anyone who isn't a knitter so I'll spare you. But the worst is pretty obvious, and really, it's my fault. I didn't note the dye lot when I bought the first two skeins and when I needed a third, well, as you can see, it totally didn't match.The solution, I think, is to overdye the whole sweater, maybe a dark brown or greeny-brown. I've never done it so I'm not sure if it will work, but I guess it's worth a try. Anyone ever dyed a sweater before? Advice?
When this sweater got too big to haul around on the subway with me, I switched to some smaller projects. Now I would first like to say that these are NOT for me. No. Not at all. but they are pretty darn cute.
The booties are this pattern which is available free on Ravelry.
This hat is for a small girl acquaintance of mine but Evelyn and Will have already requested their own. It's a pattern that I made up and I'll share it with you once I work out the sizes for someone other than a one year old. I might even knit one for myself. I like that little elf peak!
I've got another hat in the works right now and am about to get started on some serious Christmas knitting. I know, Christmas? But Briton wants a hoodie sweater and that will take me ages. I hate sleeves (notice how my sweater was sleeveless? Ahh, I like sleeveless sweaters!)Anyone else starting to get into homemade Christmas gift mode? I know it's crazy but it's going to take me the four months + to get done all the things I want to make, so I guess it's now or never!
August 2, 2011
reunions
It's good to have friends in town. Lots of laughing and late nights and showing off our city and watching children, heads bent toward each other, catching up on two months of happenings. Just what I needed!
Also, did you know that there is a guy at the Museum of Natural History who's job is "Fossil Explainer"? If you ever get a chance to go, find him, it's amazing the things he knows!
August 1, 2011
apartment living
When Columbia first assigned us this apartment, I hopped right onto google maps to scan our surroundings. Because we didn't have much information about the inside of the place, I spent a lot of time checking out our neighborhood. I wondered a little wryly whether or not they purposefully gave families with children the apartments next to both a fire station and an emergency room. Easy access in an emergency. Which is good, because even a small kitchen fire on the second floor has firemen here in a flash, knocking on doors at midnight, making sure everyone is ok (everyone was ok). Also they wave at the kids every time they drive by, how can you not love them for that?
I'm currently on the fence when it comes to how I feel about living in an apartment. There are things I really like. For example, being able to take an elevator to the laundry room rather than hauling awkward and overflowing baskets down the basement stairs. Also, having three washing machines and four dryers at my disposal means that doing all of our laundry takes exactly an hour and a half (if I remember to set my timer and switch things to the dryer right when the wash cycle ends, that is) The magic basement is also a plus, of course and the smaller space is, for the most part, a good thing. Less to clean, less to deal with, less to trip over.
On the down side there is the whole paying for laundry thing which kind of sucks. At least our building has progressed past quarters and has laundry debit cards. I remember in college that quarters became an obsession with people. Many things worth more than 25 cents were traded for a quarter in our dorms, and the cafeteria flatly refused to give change unless you were buying something. Why we never thought to go get a roll of quarters from the bank is beyond me.
Also, someone on the fifth floor seems to really enjoy cooking fried foods because at least three days a week the whole apartment building smells a little like the french fry station at a fast food joint. Not really a horrible thing, but it makes me hungry for things I should not eat.
Some of the items on my pro/con list switch depending on the day. Like when the humidity is so high it should be raining but instead just feels like a weight on your skin if you so much as put one toe outdoors, well, then having a few more rooms, or at least bigger rooms, seems kind of dreamy.
The lack of a back yard is also on the "depends on the moment" list. Some days I really miss it. Sending the kids out to play on their own, letting the dog out the door first thing in the morning instead of getting dressed and heading out for a walk, digging in my garden, I miss those things some days. I don't miss mowing. Or weeding. Ever. But having parks a million at my fingertips generally makes up for the lack of yard and the hibiscus that just bloomed out on my fire escape helps a bit too.
I think, on the whole, that I like the whole apartment thing. I'm not sure I could do it for the rest of my life, at some point not having a vegetable garden out my door or space to store a few dozen jars of jam and the family cradle would get to be, but for now, it's good. Especially since Mr. Clean finished turning the kitchen floors white again. Ahhh. I love that Mr. Clean.
I'm currently on the fence when it comes to how I feel about living in an apartment. There are things I really like. For example, being able to take an elevator to the laundry room rather than hauling awkward and overflowing baskets down the basement stairs. Also, having three washing machines and four dryers at my disposal means that doing all of our laundry takes exactly an hour and a half (if I remember to set my timer and switch things to the dryer right when the wash cycle ends, that is) The magic basement is also a plus, of course and the smaller space is, for the most part, a good thing. Less to clean, less to deal with, less to trip over.On the down side there is the whole paying for laundry thing which kind of sucks. At least our building has progressed past quarters and has laundry debit cards. I remember in college that quarters became an obsession with people. Many things worth more than 25 cents were traded for a quarter in our dorms, and the cafeteria flatly refused to give change unless you were buying something. Why we never thought to go get a roll of quarters from the bank is beyond me.
Also, someone on the fifth floor seems to really enjoy cooking fried foods because at least three days a week the whole apartment building smells a little like the french fry station at a fast food joint. Not really a horrible thing, but it makes me hungry for things I should not eat.
Some of the items on my pro/con list switch depending on the day. Like when the humidity is so high it should be raining but instead just feels like a weight on your skin if you so much as put one toe outdoors, well, then having a few more rooms, or at least bigger rooms, seems kind of dreamy.
The lack of a back yard is also on the "depends on the moment" list. Some days I really miss it. Sending the kids out to play on their own, letting the dog out the door first thing in the morning instead of getting dressed and heading out for a walk, digging in my garden, I miss those things some days. I don't miss mowing. Or weeding. Ever. But having parks a million at my fingertips generally makes up for the lack of yard and the hibiscus that just bloomed out on my fire escape helps a bit too.
I think, on the whole, that I like the whole apartment thing. I'm not sure I could do it for the rest of my life, at some point not having a vegetable garden out my door or space to store a few dozen jars of jam and the family cradle would get to be, but for now, it's good. Especially since Mr. Clean finished turning the kitchen floors white again. Ahhh. I love that Mr. Clean.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)