Now the Sun’s Coming Up, I’m Riding with Lady Luck

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BB King, blesings, happiness, Kenny Wayne Shepherd, lady luck, Music, San Francisco, summer, Tom Waits

I have hated being away for so long. It’s weird not to write a post every other day. But, I must admit, I have been doing nothing but relaxing, reading, and drinking wine–just like promised. But I am back. I have two more weeks of vacation left, and I cannot promise, but I vow to at least make a concerted effort to do two posts a week during those two weeks.

The list of songs today made me happy and reflective simultaneously. Beyond the list of six, there were about 12 songs staring me in the face, begging me to write about them as well. But, that’s not the deal, right? So hopefully they will pop up soon because they are a proverbial thorn in my side.

It’s funny how ears work. Physiologically of course, but also metaphorically–in a sense. I was making fun of my mom’s music this week while being home. She just discovered Pandora, which means she has no idea how it works. She loves Adele and Rod Stewart and The Beatles and Norah Jones and Willie Nelson (see where I get it from?!). But, sadly, Mom doesn’t know how to “dislike” songs, since she doesn’t use Facebook. We were in the middle of a very important discussion on life at 11:45 the other night, at least a few glasses of wine each, and suddenly some techno crap pops up, and the two of us stare at each other. Wide-eyed, she informs me, “I didn’t sign up for this shit!”. It was great.

Meanwhile, the next night while washing dishes, I thought I heard “Ol’ 55” come on Pandora and I got a little misty-eyed. I love Tom Waits. Sadly, it was something else. I am used to hearing his much more up-beat version of “Ol’ 55” but tonight’s is the slow version, and I love it still. It’s so haunting and delicious and gut-wrenching.

I have been filled and surrounded by beautiful things for the past several weeks–pregnant bellies, gardens bursting at the seams, dear friends, sunsets over the Sierras, three amazingly devoured novels, lively discussions on education, nephews telling me jokes, puppies learning how to finally behave, the strong women of my family laughing at the top of their lungs, friends urging me home to hang out once again, finally spending time with my old friend The New Yorker once again. I don’t know if there has been a sea-change in my behavior since losing my weight, or if it is just having a summer to take it down a notch. Either way, I have always felt blessed. This summer, I feel much more pleased and even entitled to allow myself to feel such a blessing fall on me.

I remember living in England in 1997 with my friend K. Even then, I purchased music from abroad. One of the hot songs that year was “Brimful of Asha”. I brought my copy home to Colorado and proudly played it for my friends, since it hadn’t made it’s way over the Pond yet. The line that got everyone was “Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow”. When you are barely 20, songs such as these make you feel like somebody, even if you didn’t really care for them. Meanwhile, after my return that August, I took my Dad to see B.B. King, Taj Mahal, and Kenny Wayne Shepherd for his birthday. I had never known about Taj Mahal. To Dad and I, he and Kenny Wayne, twenty at the time, might have actually surpassed Mr. King and Lucille.

I don’t think I have too much to say or write, or whatever tonight. All I know is that for the first time in five summers, I actually feel ready to return to work in two weeks. I have always had to emotionally manoeuvre through a short transition on both ends of summer (or Bread Loaf, depending on how you look at it), and this year, I don’t have to.

Yes, it’s a shorter summer for me than previous summers, but I think I will survive. I am good to go. As Mr. Waits says, I have Lady Luck on my side. “Stars beginning to fade, and I lead the parade”. Who could ask for more? Happy late summer, everyone!

Queen Bee–Taj Mahal

Alfie–Joss Stone

Ol’ 55–Tom Waits

Sometimes I’m Happy–Joni Mitchell

Brimful of Asha (Remix)–Cornerstone

Mothers of the Disappeared–U2

 

I Finally See the Dawn Arrivin’, I See Beyond the Road I’m Drivin’

Tags

Calvino, Fog, literature, love, San Francisco, sourdough, summer

San Francisco in the summer is underrated. Yes, for five summers I lived in the humid, bug-laden eden of Nerd Camp and perhaps I always wished to be home with friends instead of stuck in the library and in class on the 4th of July. However, there’s something charming about summertime fog rolling in over the Bridge in the early afternoon. It smells like heaven. I can’t explain it, I don’t think.

When I first moved to San Francisco in 1999, I lived out in the Avenues where fog resided every day. When I jumped off the bus from downtown, I passed by the Boudin Sourdough factory. The smell of fog and warm sourdough, yes, two San Francisco staples, really bring me comfort.

Today, while pumping gas in the Marina, I was so chilled that I groped for a sweater in

Calling All In Transit

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anticipation, Bread Loaf, summer, Summer Camp, vacation

Something feels like it’s missing this summer. Grad school is over, but old friends who are still working on their Master’s just returned to Vermont and Oxford and Santa Fe this week and last. But it’s not like the past two weeks have been jammed packed with staring at a white wall. What I have done so far with my summer: I have one full week of summer school under my belt. I have been up to Tahoe twice since the beginning of June. And I went to The Gorge in Oregon for a long weekend. So what is it that feels like it’s missing?

I think it’s the anticipation, the expectation of something big. It doesn’t really have to be a big trip per se, or even a trip for that matter. But I think about five full summers, packing up my life for six weeks, and trekking either across the country to Vermont, or over the Pond to Oxford. I have been very blessed to have this experience. I don’t miss the late nights, the bugs, the extreme heat followed by extreme cold, or never having a moment to just be. But let me tell you about the first time I arrived in the little village of Ripton, Vermont and burst into tears, thinking what in the hell have i gotten myself into? I kind of think the same thing my first summer out.

I flew from San Francisco to Boston and stayed with my friend in her tiny third floor Charlestown flat. Three suitcases up those teeny tiny stairs. Three. The next morning, I headed out, equipped with a french cruller and vanilla coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts. Butterflies reminiscent of sleep away camp in grade school consumed every nerve in my gut. The long, winding road through Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and the bulk of the most beautiful areas of Vermont revealed less and less signs of civilization. I passed the school because I thought, surely this couldn’t be. Ten minutes later, I was able to turn around, park on the side of the road, and with a shaking hand, open the front door of the Inn.

That same anticipation revealed itself each and every time I arrived. Where will I be living this summer? Which old friends are here? Will anyone notice that I’ve gained a few pounds? That I need a haircut? That I am ghostly pale because I live in San Francisco? Will I be able to live up to my professor’s standards? Did I bring enough cute clothes? Serious life issues.

Well, now that it’s over, I miss it. I loved that feeling. I want an adventure this summer, the semblance that something is looming out on the horizon. That something beckons me and pushes me a little beyond. I’ll admit that this week, I’ve been searching for writing retreats, yoga retreats, dude ranches. But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. If I had an extra $4800, I know a great biking and cooking trek through Provence. Sigh. Not this year. Or the next.

But I have made a decision. I will have a summer camp experience this summer, come Hell or High Water. I have already attended a sourdough bread making workshop last week. I just signed up for a metal working class. Groupon is full of these things. I am on it. Camp MightyMo is now in effect. Daily schedule is as follows:

5:30am Wake Up

6:45 Scenic Drive to Palo Alto

8-12:15 Activities with Younger Kids

1-2:30 Exercise and Fresh Air

2:30-4:00 Whatever the Hell I Want

4:00 Cabin Cleanup

6:00 Mess Hall Duties

8:00 Quiet Wine Time

9:30 Reflection and Blog Time

11:00 Lights Out

Note: Cabin Cleanup, Mess Hall Duties, and Reflection and Blog Time can and will be deleted as needed to do other fun things like Concert Sing Alongs, Pub Quizzes, Awkward Dating Hours, and Wine and Cheese Appreciation. All Hail Camp MightyMo!

What will you do with your summer? Do you miss the anticipation of summertime vacations or activities?

Tops–The Rolling Stones

(I’ve Been) Searchin’ So Long–Chicago

Radio Free Europe–R.E.M.

True Love Waits–Radiohead

Stare it Cold–The Black Crowes

Merchants of Soul–Spoon

Until I Have Your Full Attention, I’ll be Anything But Me

Tags

college friends, Roller Derby, vacation, writing

Roller Derby Girls–Our Suppressed Desires, 2010

What a hilarious mix of songs today! With the exception of Jack Johnson and Phish, they are all upbeat and fun. But that’s usually the case, right? Kind of like this photo. It’s a bit scary up close. But upon further revelation, we are sheep in wolves clothing.

I couldn’t resist this picture. In the summers, we would have a suppressed Desires dance, and the three of us chose Roller Derby Queens, which is pretty amazing. We were a total hit. And very out of character for all three of us. It fits perfectly with Jim Croce today.

I have been home for all of 12 hours. I am leaving this afternoon for my trip to Oregon. Two bags unpacked, one repacked, sheets changed, laundry put away, wine club attended, sleep procured, electronics charged, e-ticket printed. Everything is done.

I meant to have a few fun surprises for our reunion but life got in the way this past week. It’s okay though. Thank God for Walgreen’s and their super-swift photo processing. I am picking up 38 prints, which I placed an order for…four minutes ago. They will be ready in less than 2 hours. Talk about a new take on the old One-Hour photomat!

Because it’s early and life is a little blurry this morning (actually, my glasses are

Happenstance Has Changed my Plans

Tags

Books, grad school, Julia Alvarez, reading, school

Today I packed up a stack of books that I bought to read over my spring break. It didn’t happen. These seven books, all of which have been on my reading list for some time, have collected dust while perched on my classroom desk. I am only a few short days away from lying on a chaise lounge overlooking still snow-covered mountains and azure waters with one of these seven books in my hand, a glass of wine in the other.

I always manage to purchase books for pleasure and keep them in my classroom, where they are never read. It’s almost become part of my end-of-the-year routine. I round them all up, fill various bags that I bring home for the summer, and quickly devour each and every one. This was usually because my free reading always competed with grad school reading, but hey. No 20 novels looming over my head that need to be completed by June 24th this year.

Although I do miss that drive to complete and read and annotate, there is something so profoundly wonderful about not caring if I fall asleep while reading my book.