My Dog is Brave. Or Stupid. But Probably Brave.

Tonight, I was getting ready for bed. Fox was downstairs and started barking. I am guessing he heard a noise in the courtyard. I called for him to come upstairs, but he didn't come. He wanted to stay by the patio door. 

I went downstairs to see what was up, and Fox was looking out the door, focusing. I debated whether to let him outside to see what it was. The courtyard has rabbits, so I thought maybe he was barking at those. (There are a few rats in the courtyard as well. One of Seattle's nickname is Rat City, so yeah. Rats.)

Against my better judgment, I decided to let Fox outside to see what the fuss was about. I shut the patio door behind him. If the boogey man or a rat were outside, I didn't want them coming inside my condo.

Therein lies the difference between Fox and I. When he hears a strange noise, he wants to check it out. When I hear a strange noise, I want to hide and stay safe. Is Fox brave or stupid? Am I a coward? Should I be investigating the noises I hear, or should I hide under the covers?

"Discretion is the better part of valor." My mom quoted this all of the time when I was growing up. There are times we should explore, and there are times we need to hold the fort down.

When I think of where I have been over the past few years, I wonder how many metaphorical noises I have heard, but ignored, when perhaps I should have explored them a little bit deeper. Some of the noises were quiet whispers, telling me something wasn't right. Other noises pointed me in a direction that I didn't want to go. 

Perhaps I need to be a little bit more like my dog, and explore the noises. I doesn't mean I near to follow every bump, but I can check them out more often than I do now.

Fighter Jets

The fighter jets are flying

practicing their rounds.

Does this mean war?

Returning to People

I am on the last full day of a conference in Florida and I am exhausted. I have forgotten what it is like to be around people so much. I live alone and work from home, which creates a different kind of exhaustion. All of a sudden, I am thrown in with hundreds of people, eating breakfast and lunch with them starting at 7:45 a.m.. Last night, there was a group dinner so I was with people for a twelve hour stretch. During a break, I went and hid in my hotel room, just so I wouldn't have to talk to people.

Now I think I can very slightly relate to people who are depressed. I can see why they want to be alone and shut down. 

In one of today's sessions, someone talked about the Human Stress Curve in dealing with a crisis. According to this chart, which I re-drew, I had reached the exhaustion stage. After today's sessions, I went to my hotel room, put on my bathing suit and sat by the pool and read a book.

Just as the initial quarantine was super stressful, returning to people could be just as stressful.

Disney Person

"Are you a Disney person?" asked the woman sitting next to me at the bar. It was Saturday night. I had just flown in and was finishing dinner. She was a travel agent from Massachusetts at this Disney resort for a company meeting.

Am I a Disney person? I hedged. I thought to myself but didn't say, "Oh god no! Are you nuts? I'm a London or Paris or National Parks kind of person. I used to ski with my family in Whistler. I prefer a real vacation to something fabricated."

Instead, I did what any good politician would do: I didn't answer the question asked, but nor did I lie. "The last time I was here was in high school. I live in the Pacific Northwest now, so Disney is pretty far..."

(Not as far as New Zealand, but I didn't say that.)

I have been to Disney World several times as a kid, but I never took my own children here. I enjoyed Disney World as a kid. I loved riding the Monorail. I have taken my kids to theme parks, including Legoland and Sea World. The kids loved both. I am not sure why I never brought the kids here--maybe I was overwhelmed by the size, scope and intensity of the place. I am sure kids love it, but it seemed like a giant chore for parents to bring their kids here. The thought a trip here would be overwhelming. As I kid, I just remember waiting in line and walking. The rides were cool, but it was a busy, exhausting day.

Now I have been here for a few days, enjoying the Florida sunshine and ignoring Florida politics. I haven't been to any of the amusement parks here. I've stayed on an island within the resort where the convention is held. I have no idea how giant the entire Disney complex is, but the walking path around the lake at the Coronado is about a mile. It takes a good twelve minutes for me to walk to the convention center from my room, and I am on the same campus as the conference.

Even though I have only seen a tiny slice of the place, I am starting to see why people like Disney.

This is a beautifully manicured bubble. Everything is wonderfully and whimsically designed to please both parents and kids. I was at dinner last night by myself, and I got to take in the details of the restaurant, from the stained glass vaulted ceilings and the parabola shaped windows, to the artwork on the walls to the tile on the floor. It all looks so well considered, and it is pretty, quiet and clean.

Disney and the Kraken

Today I flew to Orlando to attend a conference for work. The last time I was in Orlando, I was a sophomore in high school as part of band and drill team trip. I think we performed at Epcot Center. Or the Magic Kingdom. I remember I had a boyfriend at the time and we hung out with this hilarious guy Jay on the trip. He was a riot. Jay said I was "frumpy" and he meant it as a compliment. There was a time the bus stopped for breakfast at a diner. There were probably eighty kids on the trip, and we all had to use the bathroom to clean up. There was only one bathroom for each gender, and one girl locked herself in there for fifteen minutes applying her make-up while everyone else waited to brush their teeth. Everyone was pissed. I think what Jay meant to say was that I was low maintenance or not vain because I didn't hog that bathroom. I also I remember eating dinner at some fancy place at Epcot with hydroponically grown lettuce and bleu cheese salad dressing. That is about it.

On the plane today to Orlando, I was working on an embroidery project called "Release the Kraken." When I first saw this picture, I thought it was cool because most embroidery kits are about flowers or inspirational quotes. This one is full of drama and monsters. Gotta love that. It reminds me of something my friend Diane would have created.

As you can see, I'm not done yet. At first, I felt sorry for the ship being potentially assaulted by the Kraken. Then I realized, the Kraken was there first. Actually, the ocean was there first, then the Kraken, and then the ship. The Kraken has the right to chase the ship off its turf. Right?

Now I am at the Disney World Resort, which is the size of the City of St. Louis. I'm only kind of exaggerating. This place is massive. I am staying at a spot in the resort that has a lake in the middle. After dinner, I walked around the lake, which was peaceful. There is music piped in around the walk around the lake, which was nice. The moon was out and the hotel was beautifully lit up. I was thinking of how this would be a lovely place to paddle board, as the water was calm and probably warm. Flying in, I saw lots and lots of little lakes or ponds. Central Florida could be a paddle board paradise!

Then I saw the sign.

These signs were posted every fifty feet along the perimeter of the lake. I remember hearing a story years ago of a toddler that was eaten by an alligator at a Disney park. I don't know all of the details, but yikes! Now there are signs everywhere. Montana has bears. Florida has gators. Why do beautiful outdoor places also come with predators?

Which reminds me of the Kraken. What was here first? Probably the pond, then the alligators, and then the resort. The alligators are like the Kraken, and we are on their turf. Proceed with caution.

The New Zoo

I haven't worked in an office in two years. Since the pandemic started, I got a new job at a new company. I went to my new office for the second time ever today. The first time I visited was for my first day of work a year into the pandemic. Today I went in because I scheduled an appointment to prove my employment eligibility to the HR people. When I started the job, I had scanned my citizenship documents, but now they need to see the original. So I did that today. 

Not only was I figuring out a new space, I was figuring it out alone as the office doesn't officially open until April 18. I drove around the block a few times to find the entrance to the parking garage down an alley. I had to see if my temporary badge could get me into the garage. I had to find my new desk in a maze of cubicles. I had to find tea and coffee and water fountains and kleenex and the bathroom. I had to log into the system. Brian, one of two people on my floor, set-up my monitors and docking station.

The office is beautiful, but my only complaint were the lights. My delicate eyes hurt from being around fluorescent lights all day. Maybe my monitors were too bright or too far away. Whatever the case, it was different.

I went to lunch as a place was described as "bougie." I figure I'd squeeze getting in before everyone returns to work and then not find a seat. One of my favorite fabric shops is town is kitty-corner to the office. Good for the business. Bad for my budget.

I didn't get much actual work done as I spent a lot of time walking around trying to get my bearings, which part of work. I felt like all of sense were firing at full speed. My eyes were aching. My ears were picking up infrequent and quiet footfalls and a phone call in the distance. My nose was tickled by dust that accumulated in cracks and cervices. I burned my tongue at lunch on baked eggs.

I was talking to my team lead, filling him in on my experience. 

"I feel like an animal in new surroundings, and I am trying to make sense of this," I said.

"You are in a new zoo," he said.

No Masks

This morning, I went out to get coffee during work. I grabbed my keys, my jacket, and my mask, as usual. 

Then I realized I don't need to wear a mask to the coffee shop as the State of Washington dropped the mask requirement indoors. Yay!

Except then I had to brush my teeth before I left. While I was up, I put on some make-up. Now I am going to have to attend to the giant zit in my nose I developed while working out in a mask. It took me an extra five minutes to get out of the door.

It is funny what we get used to, our habits. What was so annoying for the past year and a half became something I adjusted to, and now I need to adjust back.

Live & Duh & Delicious Mistakes

What do you want first, the happy story or the sad story? I'll decide: the happy story goes first. If the happy story goes second, it will sound disrepectful to the sad one.

Live

Claire-Adele, Pedro and I have begun to embrace the very simple pleasure of live entertainment again. Pedro has walked by the Moore Theater a few times and looked at the marquee to see who is playing. He drops a name, and I say "Hey let's go," and he says "Sure." (My god I am the coolest mother in the world.) In the past few weeks, Pedro and I saw the comedians Mike Birbiglia and Fortune Feimster. Since the Moore Theater is a few blocks from the condo, it is an easy venue to hit. It is relatively small--like three thousand seats and the ticket prices are reasonable to see comedians who have specials on Netflix. The place is small enough that I don't feel like I need to buck up for good seats because even the cheap seats have a good view. Pedro's girlfriend recommended I watch Feimster's "Sweet and Salty" on Netflix and it was fine. It was funny. I laughed, but seeing her live was waaaay better. She can rock a crowd that wasn't evident when I was streaming her show while I was riding the elliptical at the gym.

Claire-Adele has been to two NHL games in the past week in her new hometown, even though for one of the games she rooted for the Kraken instead of the Capitals. Live sports is her new thing, which is super cool.

It is awesome to be in a room crammed with people who are all laughing or cheering at the same thing. I felt alive. Pedro and I even had a local celebrity sighting at the Feimster show, which was extra fun. (Well, a celebrity in Seattle, at least.) Last year, Adam Grant wrote an article in the New York Times about collective effervescence:

"Peak happiness lies mostly in collective activity. We find our greatest bliss in moments of collective effervescence. It’s a concept coined in the early 20th century by the pioneering sociologist Émile Durkheim to describe the sense of energy and harmony people feel when they come together in a group around a shared purpose. Collective effervescence is the synchrony you feel when you slide into rhythm with strangers on a dance floor, colleagues in a brainstorming session, cousins at a religious service or teammates on a soccer field. And during this pandemic, it’s been largely absent from our lives.

Collective effervescence happens when joie de vivre spreads through a group. Before Covid, research showed that more than three-quarters of people found collective effervescence at least once a week and almost a third experienced it at least once a day. They felt it when they sang in choruses and ran in races, and in quieter moments of connection at coffee shops and in yoga classes."

Duh

Now for the depressing news. I had lots of time this afternoon to myself so I hunkered down with the Sunday New York Times. I have to admit that I typically hit the puzzles in the Sunday Magazine and Style sections first, checking out Modern Love, which is a brilliant column that everyone should read.

But then I saw a different, more depressing story that I didn't finish because after reading the first third, I knew the plot and didn't see a happy ending coming or any major plot twists. This article was Hidden Epidemic of Brain Injuries from Domestic Violence. The short version is "Research shows that survivors of abuse can sustain head trauma more often than football players. But they are almost never diagnosed."

Wow. I never thought about that, but of course! Women who get beat up by their partners on a regular basic for years have head injuries. How come no one figured this out until now? This is a big fat case of "duh." And that was super depressing, but sometimes super depressing things can drive us to take action! Like get those women in shelters examined for neurological problems. Some bruises don't show. 

Delicious Mistakes

I feel like I need to end on a happier note than battered women. Americans have this idea of sandwiching criticism between two positives. Like if you are late for work every day, your boss might say "I really love having you on the team and I value your contributions, but we miss your contributions when you are fifteen minutes late to the stand-up meeting. It would be great if you could get here on time so we can benefit from your ideas." In the same spirit, I am going to sandwich domestic violence news between two things of joy: live entertainment and chocolate cookies.

Here is a chocolate thumbprint cookie recipe from the Sunday magazine. The author was following the directions for a different recipe and messed up. The mistake ended up being delicious, worthy of its own recipe. I love the idea too that sometimes our mistakes lead us to something better than we could have imagined.

I can't wait to try this mistake out.

Colors and my Mask

This week, Seattle has been lit up with blue and yellow in solidarity with the Ukraine.

Which is fine...

...except these are the same structures that have red lights on Valentine's Day and orange on Halloween. They are blue and green when the Seahawks or Sounders have a big game. The war on the Ukraine isn't a sporting event. This isn't something to cheer for or about. When will these buildings change the lights to something different? Will these structures turn the lights green for St. Patrick's Day? Does that mean we no longer care about the Ukraine?

Perhaps I am being too cynical. Maybe when people feel helpless about a war thousands of miles away, they do what they can, which is pick a side and fly the flag. Would it be worse to not have the colors? Will the colors work like inspiring people to watch football, and inspire us to read more about the war, to follow it, to take a position? Maybe.

Even though a war is going on far away, the other 7.6 billion people figure out a way to carry on with their lives, going about our business. As I am.

Funny story -- I was at the gym other day riding the elliptical, watching Ali Wong, my favorite comediennes. I love Ali. As per King County orders, I had to wear a mask while exercising. In the middle of my workout, I pulled down my mask and took a gulp of water. As soon as I pulled my mask up, something hilarious happened in Ali's movie and I snorted out the water. Into my mask. I has a mask full of water and spit. It was gross, but also really funny. Most of the water leaked on to the front of my shirt, but I was at the gym so I just looked super sweaty. Fortunately, there was only one other person in the cardio room when it happened.

Pedro was unimpressed with this story. I can't wait until he is no longer a petulant teenager. Then, he might think I am funny. I can dream, right?