Sixth Anniversary: Bethany Beach, Delaware

To celebrate our sixth wedding anniversary, Billy and I took Nora to Bethany Beach for a few days.  It was so nice to be back at the beach for the first time since 2010, and Nora loved it!  It's hard to believe our wedding was six years ago, but when I think about how much life has changed since then, it sometimes feels like even longer.  Either way, I feel so fortunate to be married to someone whose company I enjoy so much, who helps me become a better version of myself every year, and who makes every day with our daughter a true delight.

Since Nora was recovering from a double ear infection and she gets very overstimulated by new experiences, we thought being at the beach from Sunday through Wednesday worked out perfectly.  Plus, it rained for several days after we left!  Next year we think she will enjoy going for a whole week.

On our first trip down to the beach, she was understandably scared of the water and mostly watched everything going on around her.  On day two, she grew very interested in playing in the sand and sent Billy down to fill her bucket with water repeatedly.  By day three, Nora had gotten comfortable enough with the water that she would run down toward it but wouldn't really try to get in unless we took her out.  Billy also dug a huge hole that day, so she had a great time climbing around in there.

This was our first trip to Bethany Beach, and we liked it a lot.  Our hotel was only a short walk from the beach, which was busy but not too crowded.  We were also a very short drive from the boardwalk, which had enough shops and restaurants to keep us occupied without being crowded.  Our only complaint was that the waves crashed really close to the shore, and that made it a little difficult for small children to play in the water.  Apparently this is a negative by-product of beach restoration attempts.

But enough with the description: here are a sampling of my favorite pictures from the trip!

It's hard to hear her in this clip because of the sound of the ocean, but she is counting out her toys as she moves them in and out of the bucket. (It's *not* hard to hear me.  Sorry.)


A few other funny/interesting tidbits:

• Nora is a bossy beachgoer.  "Daddy sit!" "Mommy come here!" "Mo waduh pease!" "Nononono!" "No Daddy!" "Nora's turn!"
• She tasted the sand and did not like it-- thank goodness.  But saltine crackers apparently taste good when dipped in a bucket of sandy ocean water???
• She is surprisingly cooperative about having sunscreen applied to her body.
• When her teachers discover a poopy diaper on the changing table, they say "Ooooh Nora!"  She has apparently decided this is the thing you say when you undress.  So when I would take off my beach cover up, or Billy would take off his shirt, she would exclaim "Oooooh Mommy!" or "Oooooh Daddy!"  When we figured out what she was doing, it made us laugh so hard.
• At one point there was a little boy named Everett playing a few blankets away.  Billy and I both noticed it, since this is my nephew's name, but we weren't aware that Nora had taken note of him until we were leaving.  She looked over in their direction, waved, and said "Bye Evitt!"  Otherwise, she liked watching other kids play but apparently was not in the mood for making new friends.
• Taking a child who naps once mid-day on a beach vacation works out nicely.  We were able to spend a few hours at the beach in the morning, come back mid-day for lunch and her nap, and then return to the beach for several more hours before we needed to get back and get to dinner.
• Right before we left on the final day she made sure to give me a chance to change a poopy diaper at the beach.  Thank goodness I didn't miss out on that priceless experience!

5 Years

Five years ago today, on 07.07.07, Billy and I promised to stick together forever.  I've been fortunate my whole life through, but my husband, the life we share, and the family we've started are the best things that have ever happened to me.




I love you, baby.  Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad. : )

See also: four years and three years.

The Land of Little Rain, Part 2

Our trip to Austin was too memorable to fit in one post, so here goes part two!  For some reason, my first Austin post didn't show up in my Google Reader.  If you missed it, you can read that here.  As I wrote before, to me Austin felt like a place where simple moments were unexpectedly memorable, so I've decided to recap the trip by writing about some of these types of moments.

-My favorite shopping experience was wandering around South Congress Ave, even though I didn't end up buying anything.  Billy and I had a good time looking through all the boutiques at the various selections of crafts, jewelry, housewares, and the like.  There were also a few open lots where they set up booths in the evening which had a distinct Portland Saturday Market feel, though there were significantly fewer vendors.  We went inside Allens Boots, and I wish I'd taken a picture of the walls and walls of distinctive boots they have in there.  When I found myself wondering why I thought I would like purchase a $300 pair of distressed green leather cowboy boots, I remembered the pair of pink cowboy boots I had as a child.  They only came from Mervyn's, but they had fringe and a huge patch of glitter shaped like a lightning bolt on the side.  I believe I wore them until they fell apart on my feet.  When I was looking at the shelves inside the newly opened South Congress Books, my heart actually started pounding noticeably when I saw a vintage copy of Katherine Anne Porter's Pale Horse, Pale Rider prominently displayed.  I wanted to buy that, too, until I decided that this book should not belong to someone who already loves the book, has largely memorized the book, and has held KAP's own print copies and manuscripts of the book.  This particular book needed to stay there, perched on its stand, until someone new has the chance to discover how great it is.  Thinking I wanted to buy the boots made me feel like there might be a little bit of Austinite in me, and seeing KAP get some much-deserved love and exposure near her birthplace made me feel like there is a little bit of what makes me me inside other Austinites.

-Anyone who visits me here on the blog knows I am a big tennis fan.  I don't know if anyone who hasn't lived with me in my house realizes just how much of a tennis fan I am.  I can watch it literally all day.  I watch it whether or not one of my favorite players is playing.  I love watching the players construct the points, I love watching them succeed and fail in executing their shots, and I love watching to see if they have the mental toughness it takes to keep it together in the match's difficult and intense moments.  The one thing I do not love about tennis, especially about attending it live, is that it's a sport for fancy people and thus, you have to behave yourself in certain ways as a spectator.  This is not true for the Davis Cup.  Attending a round of Davis Cup matches, which is called a "tie" for reasons that are unclear to me (though it seems to be borrowed from cricket), is the major exception to the etiquette rules.  When you watch Davis Cup on TV, you can tell the crowds get really loud.  The chair umpires have to quiet them down.  Now that I've seen a home Davis Cup tie for myself, the closest comparison I can draw is to say that it is like attending a home playoff series in a major American sport, if one team was allowed to be the home team for the entire series.  Your team needs to win 3 of 5 matches to advance and avoid elimination, so the tension is high, but so is the excitement.  They give out thundersticks, GO USA signs that also double as noisemakers, and red white and blue pom-pons that also have a noisemaking clicker built inside.  This means that attending these matches might be the only chance I get to demonstrate in a physical way how much I love and enjoy watching this sport.  I wasn't just allowed to scream at the top of my lungs, clap until my hands hurt, and jump out of my chair in excitement-- I was joined in these behaviors by 17,000 other people.

It was the best, even though Team USA lost all three of the singles matches they played.  First, Mardy Fish lost to Feliciano Lopez, 4-6 6-3 3-6 7-6(2) 6-8.  Then, Andy Roddick lost to David Ferrer, 6-7(9) 5-7 3-6.  If Mardy had beaten Ferrer on Sunday, it would have extended the tie to the equivalent of a playoff series Game 7 between Roddick and Lopez, but Fish lost that match 5-7 6-7(3) 7-5 6-7(5).  The combination of these losing efforts and the unique atmosphere of Davis Cup helped me realize, though, just how many exciting moments there can be in a tennis match, even in a losing effort.  Mardy had trouble taking advantage of the opportunities he had to win both matches, but he kept fighting.  I don't know how he managed to mentally stay in the match on Sunday.  It was unbelievable to watch.  If I'm being unbiased, I also have to admit it was quite impressive to watch Ferrer finally put Mardy away despite his refusal to give in.  Andy's scoreline looks like a pretty straightforward win for Ferrer, but the play was more even than the score reveals.  Andy came out with his forehand and serve blazing, and he was not behind in the first set until set point.  Though Andy has developed a more well-rounded game in recent years than he had when he won the 2003 US Open, I've started to feel like he has forgotten about the weapons that got him to the #1 ranking in the first place.  So I loved seeing him play high risk tennis, even if the risk did not pay off in this particular match.  (I only start to get a little depressed about the loss if I begin to think of how huge it would have been for him to win it, or to have the chance to win again to clinch the tie on Sunday.  Those wins would have been, I think, a complete rebirth for Andy's career, because he loves Davis Cup and Austin is his adopted hometown... but they didn't happen.)

Watching tennis live with Billy is easily one of my very favorite things to do.  Attending this tie with him could quite literally be the best time I have watching tennis in my entire life.  It may be my only chance, ever, to watch my favorite sport while acting like the type of enthusiastic fan I like to be.  I was glad that I was able to keep sight of that throughout the weekend, even though I was initially disappointed that Rafael Nadal decided not to represent Spain and even though the scores were not turning out the way I'd hoped.  The other thing that never left my mind was that I had decided to attend this tie because we had been unable to attend the Australian Open.  I know that if Dad could have seen how happy I was while sitting in the stands, he would have been thrilled that he figured so importantly into my decision to go.  He would have understood that to go see Andy, Mardy, and the Bryan Brothers play tennis, live, with Billy, while being allowed to cheer loudly, was exactly what I needed for me to feel like me again... but I didn't know it until it happened. 

-Speaking of the Bryan Brothers, they gave us our one singularly thrilling victory of the weekend.  Bob and Mike Bryan are identical twins from Camarillo, California, and they are the best doubles team of all time.  They've won more titles than any other team in history, and by winning Wimbledon a few weeks ago, they tied the current record of 12 doubles major championships.  They're only 33, which is still fairly young for doubles players, so they'll likely win quite a few more titles before they're done.  But they're a doubles team, so they're not nearly as famous as all of these accolades might suggest.  A few years ago, the ATP tried to do away with doubles competition altogether, and the Bryans played a significant role in keeping the competition afloat.  They are great ambassadors for the game, and they love Davis Cup because they grew up watching it and they get excited about representing their country.  I imagine they also love doubles because this is the time they get more exposure than any other time.  Davis Cup ties feature two singles matches on Friday, one doubles match on Saturday, and two singles matches on Sunday.  Since they sell tickets for the whole series, not individual days or matches, Davis Cup is the only time the Bryans get to be the featured match in front of a huge sell-out crowd.  They perform well under this pressure, and prior to the Austin match, they were 18-2 in Davis Cup play.  Since they play the third match of the tie, they have the chance to keep the team's hopes alive by winning even if the US loses the first two singles matches, as they did this time around.

I had no doubt that the Bryans were going to beat Fernando Verdasco and Marcel Granollers in Saturday's doubles match, even when they lost the first set tiebreaker.  From that point onward, they were fairly dominant.  I love watching doubles tennis, and this was the first time I'd gotten to see a best of 5 doubles match live.  Points are played more quickly in doubles, so the games and sets tend to go by quickly, and I really enjoyed getting to watch four whole sets of competitive doubles tennis.  Because our singles players were playing from behind the entire time, watching the Bryans and feeling confident that they were steering toward victory was exciting in a different way.  Knowing how much they love the game and seeing how amped they were to play the match in front of so many enthusiastic fans made it an even more enjoyable experience.  In the post-match interview, they said this was the best atmosphere they had ever played in.  It's possible that they say that after every home Davis Cup win, but it enhanced my sense that being there to see that match was a chance to be a part of something special.

-We had to eat several meals at concession stands inside the arena, but when we got to choose meals for ourselves we tried to sample the various types of food Austin has to offer.  Like Portland, Austin is home to quite a few gourmet food trucks, but we couldn't bring ourselves to sample any of their food because it would have required us to eat outside, sweating, in the near 100 degree heat.  We enjoyed Tex Mex food at Iron Cactus, had a good meal at Vespaio while deciding we are just not sophisticated enough to appreciate fine dining, and tried Texas barbeque at Stubb's.  We went to Stubb's BBQ because I thought someone had recommended it to me, and maybe someone did, but when we were accompanied by quite a few other tennis fans, I wondered if I had heard of this restaurant because it might be the place where Andy Roddick hosted a reception the day after his wedding.  (Google confirms this to be the case.)  Over the first turkey I had been able to eat in months, Billy said "Thank you for coming to Austin with me."  As if I was doing him some kind of favor by agreeing to this vacation destination... when in reality, we were there because he had graciously agreed to do everything I wanted to do.  He let me choose each place I wanted go, and then he walked around the city with me for miles so we could accomplish everything I'd planned.

So that's about it, I think.  Thanks for indulging my ruminations on our trip.  If I had to sum it up more succinctly, I'd say:
I loved Austin.  I loved seeing Davis Cup tennis live.  I love my husband.  I loved having the chance to spend one last vacation alone together while we wait anxiously for the two of us to become the three of us.  I loved knowing that my dad would have been tickled, to borrow one of his words, that he played a large role in our decision to take a trip that turned out to be so therapeutic.

Of Mice and Men

Today is our fourth anniversary.  When this posts, we will be unplugged in Austin, though Billy might see it on his phone.  Or he might not see it until we get back.  But what I would like to say publicly to him on this anniversary is: 

Billy, thanks for being my gardener.

At some point early in our life together, we heard somewhere that in every relationship, one person acts as the gardener and one person acts as the flower that the gardener tends.  We used to make jokes about how I was the gardener and Billy was the flower.  Somewhere along the way, those roles seem to have reversed so significantly that I really can't remember why I ever thought I was doing the tending and he was doing the growing.  Because I manage the finances?  Because I did more of the chores when I was off during the summer?  I can't think of any other reasons.

One of the things that has served as the greatest comforts to me since losing Dad is that Dad knew I was going to be well tended after he was gone.  When I was home during his final weeks, we had several conversations which have since made it clear to me that he had a very good idea of how things would play out after his death.  He was always very intuitive, but-- and this is the case with most people in our family-- he wouldn't openly talk about his attitudes or opinions about specific issues unless you got him in a one-on-one conversation and you pressed him with questions.  Then he was happy to talk about things, though he rarely brought them up.  Thankfully for me, with nothing else to do but sit in his bed and talk, we got to have several such conversations before he passed away.  (It's also part of the reason why I miss talking to him so much on the phone.  Being a distance daughter meant I missed out on a lot of time spent with Dad, but it also meant that I regularly got to engage in the kind of conversations I rarely had with him when we were in the same geographic location.)

In one of these conversations, Dad told me that he knows "things like this," meaning his general battle with cancer but also the fairly quick way in which it was coming to an end, are difficult for people like me and him to handle because we like to plan everything out well in advance and we don't always react well when things do not go according to our plans.  So then I talked about how it felt like the universe had been trying to remind me for the past six months or so that it operates largely without respect to my plans, and we discussed how it is important to find a middle ground of continuing to do my best to plan for things while also learning to adjust well when things do not go according to plan.  And then Dad said something to me that I hope I will never forget, either as a moment or as a guiding principle.  He said, "Just keep planning on loving Billy, and everything will work out."

There have been days since January 12 where thinking about that sentence is the only thing that has enabled me to get out of bed and start my day.  Every day since January 12, having Billy as my gardener has been the main thing that has kept me functioning and moving forward.  People ask me if I think Billy will "be able to handle" watching me give birth, and I think this is a pretty standard question.  I don't think my dad would have asked it, though.  I regret that Billy, Dad, and I didn't get to spend more time together, but it is a great comfort to me to know that we spent enough time together for Dad to realize what Billy means to me, what Billy has been able to do for me so far, and what Billy will continue to learn to do for me in the future. 

To answer the question: Yes.  Billy will be able to "handle" it.  I continue to be amazed at the ability my husband has developed to intuit exactly what I need for him to do.  Billy and I celebrate four years of marriage today, but he has been watering this plant for over seven years, or just about 25% of this plant's life.  I believe so wholeheartedly in Billy's ability to give me what I need, especially after he has guided me through my dad's death and its aftermath, that I believe that even if he passes out, or throws up directly on me while I give birth, that will somehow be exactly what I need for him to do at that moment.

Billy is a planner, too.  And year 4 of our marriage did not go according to our plans.  I don't believe in much, but I do believe that so long as I keep planning on loving him, like my dad told me to, everything will be all right.

Happy Anniversary, Billy.  I love you, and marrying you was the smartest thing I've ever done. I hope that life will continue to give us opportunities to trade off as gardener and flower as we navigate our future together, and I can't wait until we have the chance to work together as gardeners for our little girl.

(Of Mice and Men is John Steinbeck's classic novel about George, Lenny, and what happens to their plans.  It draws its title from Robert Burns's line from "To a Mouse," which translates to "the best laid schemes of mice and men go often askew."  Fortunately for me, my plans have never gone quite as far askew as George's or the mouse's.  Neither of them seem to have had a Billy.)

Old Mortality

I used to pride myself on being someone who rarely gets stressed out.  I've been thinking in recent days, though, that there's a difference between managing stress well and finding ways to minimize the stressors of everyday life.

I'm excellent at minimizing stressors.  I'm married to a man who stabilizes me, provides me with a firm foundation, and gives me a soft place to land.  We live within our means, we work to save money, and we pay all of our bills on time.  In my work, I plan ahead, schedule my time, and refuse to procrastinate.  I'm fortunate to work in a field where the work is always rewarding, even though it is always demanding.  I surround myself with people I can depend on-- people who help me carry my burdens rather than adding to them.  Whenever I can, I do favors for other people.  I really don't "sweat the small stuff."  I keep a friendly, cheerful dog in my home who reminds me of life's simple pleasures.  I have an exercise routine that generally keeps me healthy in mind and body.

I was thinking about how, in high school physics, one of the projects is the egg drop.  It's as though I've crafted an excellent egg carrier around myself.  My egg doesn't crack from life's drops.  My classmates frequently say things to me like I don't know how you do it all, which kind of reminds me of the reaction I had when someone in my physics class designed an egg drop carrier that protected his egg.  He said "I just built it in a way that made sense to me."  I really can't imagine going about my life in any other way.

Dealing with Dad's death, though, has been too high of a drop for my egg carrier.  I feel like my egg is cracked.  I no longer feel like someone who manages stress well.  I am sometimes amazed at my lack of productivity on my work-from-home days.  All I did today was read one article and fifty pages of fiction? How is that possible?  I feel like I've been working all day, I think.  Then I remember that on every work from home day, there are also emails to send, phone calls to make, and questions to look into regarding Dad's affairs.  There are also moments when I find myself staring off or mindlessly surfing the internet, unaware of how sidetracked I've let myself get.

So I was thinking about how I might carry the analogy all the way through.  My egg is cracked, but it's not crushed.  I still manage to get something accomplished every day.  Then I started to think, Well, what good is an uncracked egg, anyway?  You can't actually use it for anything.  It's not fertilized, so if you never crack it, it will just spoil.  A crushed egg is pretty useless, too.  You can't sort out egg from shell, and it's all mashed into the carrier.  Maybe a cracked egg is the best, actually, because you can turn it into an omelette or scrambled eggs or something.  (Dad loved to make both.)  Maybe this means I'll have to spend some more time in this frying pan before I'm transformed into something positive.

Today's a work-from-home day, so there are phone calls to be made, emails to send, and questions to be looked into.  Thankfully, though, there's also a lot of Katherine Anne Porter to read-- "Old Mortality," in fact.  Three classes this semester means three research projects/papers, and I've decided that two of them will be on Porter.  I'm trusting that KAP, along with the other usual features of my egg carrier, will carry me through.

The Rise of Public Science

Last night before bed, I was complaining to Billy that I had to start reading this book before classes even begin.  (Full title: The Rise of Public Science: Rhetoric, Technology, and Natural Philosophy in Newtonian Britain, 1660-1750, by Larry Stewart)

He was not buying it.  "You signed up for this," he told me.  He also reminded me that I like it.  (I did not remind him that not only did I sign up for it, I exhausted myself for 18 months for the opportunity to do it.)

When I suggested that I should get a little bit of a break because I read a whole book the day before (Achebe's Things Fall Apart), he told me that all I'd done was proven his point.  "But anyone would rather read a story than an essay," I tried to get him to acknowledge.

"If it was all candy and gumdrops, everyone would have a PhD," he said.

I love my husband.

(And dare I admit, I began the book today, and I actually find it quite interesting.  And he will find it interesting, too, when I've read enough of it to talk to him about it.  Though he might not admit it.)

The Real Thing

In "The Real Thing," Henry James writes,

"It was a real marriage, an encouragement to the hesitating, a nut for pessimists to crack."

Happy third anniversary, Billy.  I love you.  Thanks for being the other half of my realest thing!

"Third" anniversary is a little misleading, though.  Here we are along the way...

2003

2004

2005

2006

2007

2008

2009

2010

(You can read the full text of "The Real Thing" here.  And you should.  It's one of my favorite short stories.  It asks you to consider the tough questions, like: What is the real thing?  When is the real thing different from the ideal thing?  What do we do when we recognize that the real thing doesn't promise what we thought it did?  When are art and the real thing incompatible?  When is the real thing more important than art?  Of course it asks these questions.  It's Henry James.)

Couples

Today is the Third Wedding Anniversary for one of my most favorite couples: Krista and Jordan Hoffmann.

This means that three years ago today, they made me fly to Hawaii to celebrate their wedding.  To call it a third anniversary, though, seems a little bizarre, because they started dating when we were all seniors in high school.  So they've actually been together for around ten years now.

In those ten years, I have happily spent countless hours as their third wheel.  Krista and I have been friends since we were 10, when her mom made her invite me to her birthday party even though my haircut made me look like a boy.  And though it took Jordan a few months to win me over at the start, those days seem like ancient history after all the time we've spent together laughing at Krista's expense.

Good Friday always reminds me of these two, too.  While we were in college, Jordan and I somehow got roped into attending a Good Friday service at Krista's parents' church.  I could try to explain to you why it was so hilarious that there was a woman crouching behind a table in the pitch black church, periodically snuffing out candles, but there's no way to do it justice.  All I can say is that Jordan and I were laughing so hard that we were shaking the pew.  And Krista was ready to kill. us. dead.  But we couldn't stop.  It was all very Mary-Tyler-Moore-at-the-funeral.

I remember this because it was funny, but also because I had come home that weekend while recovering from the single devastating heartbreak of my life.  And, as usual, Jordan didn't mind me tagging along during his precious little time with Krista away from West Point.  I also remember it because being with these two has always reminded me what love can be like, and how stable relationships with the right person can make us better versions of ourselves.

I've heard that some women feel jealous or slighted when their best friends get married.  Not me.  Three years ago, I got to attend the wedding of one of my best friends to a man who has been so good to her, and a couple that together has been so good to me, that it was honestly one of the happiest moments of my life.  And I'm not sure I've ever told them that, so I wanted to say so today.

Krista and Jordan, I love you both.  I believe Clara and baby-to-be-named-later are two of the most fortunate children on this earth simply for having you two as parents.  I can't wait to see how high you teach them to climb.

(Couples is a novel by John Updike which features couples who are nothing at all like Krista and Jordan.  Which, if you've read the novel, you'll realize is a compliment to them.)

High Fidelity

Before I left campus for "spring break" yesterday, my director stopped by to tell me she had changed my the status of my application from "wait list" to "admit list" and I would receive my official notification from the grad school in the next few days.

I GOT IN!!!!! Show them how it feels, Melanie:

When my director told me I was now "admitted," my first reaction was to be completely stunned. My brain went absolutely blank, and she kept talking to me, but I could not process anything she said. I believe I just kept saying "wow" and "okay" until my brain finally caught up again and I could talk to her about it.

Since finding out, I have felt: stunned, overwhelmed, proud, relieved, humbled, and excited. Those of us who work with words everyday are aware, though, that words can never adequately express feelings. I used to tell my high school students that there was no better feeling in the world than to work really hard for something and then to accomplish it. I should have added that the feeling is even better when your family and friends have offered you unwavering support throughout the process.

Everyone keeps telling me I "earned" it, and I believe you are all right, but I know that it is something I never could have done on my own. So thank you, everyone, for believing in me enough to carry me through those moments when I doubted myself. I know I will need that kind of encouragement over the next four years if I am going to be successful at finishing this degree.

Oscar helped me celebrate in my Maryland sweatshirt. (Don't mind his demon eyes.)

Billy helped me celebrate with a bottle of champagne. We drank it out of the flutes my dad gave us as an engagement gift, which we also used at our wedding. I want to thank my husband most of all because he is here every. single. day. to stabilize me, coax me through the periodic breakdowns, help me pay the bills, fold the laundry while I might spend an hour staring at the same sentence, and remind me that everyone needs to take a break once in a while.

So now I can take in a deep breath, let out a sigh of relief, and spend the next week working on my Cather project and watching Indian Wells. The girls and I also have another blog project in the works that I can't wait to announce!

(High Fidelity is a novel by Nick Hornby. The main character owns a record shop, so the title refers to the reproduction of sounds, but he is also trying to make a romantic relationship work, so the title also suggests a level of intense devotion. I think my commitment to earning a spot in the PhD program could be described as "high fidelity." Furthermore, High Fidelity is my favorite read-for-pleasure book and this is now my favorite blog post. I loved the movie version, too, even though it takes the story out of London and places it in Chicago.)

The Swiss Family (Robinson)

I've had several interesting conversations over the past couple of days about Roger Federer. Even those who are not big Federer fans can agree: He's an exceptional tennis player. He's fairly humble about his talent. He works hard and performs well under pressure. His excellence has undoubtedly improved the level of men's tennis across the board. My dad says you can see the greatness in his eyes, and I agree.

I also see greatness in the eyes of Mirka, his wife. Have you ever watched her during a match? She's intense. When Roger plays a point poorly, she doesn't bury her head in her hands or looked crushed, which all the other wives/girlfriends seem to do. She stares at him with a look that says, "You can do better than that." When he plays an unbelievable point, and the camera pans to her, she doesn't jump out of her seat or pump her fist. She gives a solid clap and wears an expression that says "I knew you could do that." I don't doubt that when he looks at her during a match, her eyes tell him, "You are going to win because you have worked hard to be the best."

She's pretty private, Mrs. Federer. We know a few things about her: She also grew up in Switzerland. She and Roger met when they were both playing tennis for the 2000 Swiss Olympic tennis team, but a persistent foot injury ended her career in 2002. After that she began traveling with Roger, and she's his business manager/PR agent/everything else. Sometimes she hits with him, and some people speculate that she also operates as a sort of coach. (Roger has been without a coach since his life-long coach died in a car accident in 2002.) Sports writers pointed out that she didn't leave her seat once during the entire 4+ hour Wimbledon final last year, despite the fact that she was only a few weeks away from giving birth to twins.

I believe that there is no "16 time Grand Slam Champion Roger Federer" without Mirka. He won his first Grand Slam in 2003, not long after Mirka started traveling with him. In Open, Andre Agassi reflects on the moment when Pete Sampras told him he was engaged. Andre says, "I hope he cares about his place in her heart as much as he seems to care about his place in history" (332). I believe Roger does, in regards to Mirka. After he won the French Open last year, his victory speech included a thank you to his "lovely wife who is pregnant!!" It was the most unfiltered comment I've ever seen Roger make.

That was my favorite Roger Federer moment. I'm glad they had twin daughters. The world could use more Mirkas, I believe.

Roger was released from Swiss military duty because of a weak back. I think this is a contentious issue for some in Switzerland, since it it never seems to affect his tennis game. Luckily for Roger, a strong spouse is like a strong spine. They support you. They help you stand tall. They stabilize you. Their flexibility allows you to bear burdens. They protect your most sensitive parts.

I'm fortunate enough to know about this first hand.

(The Swiss Family Robinson is a book by Johann D. Wyss, but I've never read it. I would guess, from the title, that it's about a Swiss family. To me, the Swiss Family Robinson is the Disney movie that begot the treehouse I loved as a child at Disneyland. If Roger hires me to write his autobiography, maybe I could convince him to title it The Swiss Family Federer.)

The Californian's Tale

I'm not sure how many people who know me from my life in Maryland realize that I was born in California. Most know that I am from the west coast or that I grew up in Oregon, but I guess I don't feel much like a Californian anymore. I remember plenty from my first ten years there, but when I visit the town where I grew up, it doesn't feel at all like "home." Pleasanton's population has nearly doubled since my parents first moved there in 1983, and I hardly recognized anything besides Main Street the last time I was there. (As a side note, though, I'm reading Juaquin Murieta this semester and hoping there is at least one scene of him Zorro-ing his way through Pleasant0n.)

Although I never lived in either, the two places in California that remind me most of my youth are Lompoc, where my dad's family has now been living for generations, and Santa Barbara, where my mom grew up. This year, thanks to Mimi and Papa (my dad's parents), Billy and I were able to visit my family in both towns between Christmas and New Year's Day!!

After spotting John Waters in the Baltimore airport made me feel like some kind of official Baltimorean, we arrived at LAX (where, incidentally, we saw no celebrities). Our first stop on our drive up the coast toward Santa Barbara was at an In-N-Out Burger in Sherman Oaks that was seriously exceeding its 50 person capacity. Despite the crowd, we were actually in and out, and Billy gave the food the thumbs up. I forgot to ask them to hold the pickles, and Vickie informed me later that you can get your milkshake Neapolitan style. Perhaps my "Californian" card has been revoked, after all.

As we drove into Santa Barbara, I began recognizing street names that had been buried deep in the catacombs of my brain. The strangest sensation, though, was driving by the Montecito Country Club, next to which my grandparents used to live, and recognizing the smell. I'm not making this up. I put the windows down, and it got even stronger... and then it was gone. My mom thinks it was the eucalyptus.

We got to spend several delightful, sunny days in Santa Barbara. My Gramma Kingston had gotten us a room at her beautiful retirement community, and my mom was already in town for Christmas. It was nice to have the chance to sit and visit with both of them. I think Gramma really enjoyed showing Billy around her little "nest" (as she calls her condo) and the grounds of the community. We gave her a photo album of different photos of us throughout the years, so it was fun to go through them with her and talk about where we were in each one. Talking with Gramma is always entertaining because she has such a diverse collection of memories to draw from. I can never even keep up with her as she moves from one topic of discussion to another, so I just dig in and prepare for the ride. It is unbelievable to me that at her age she still has such a great memory. She has experienced so much change and innovation in her lifetime-- this is a woman who was born a week after Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated-- before World War 1 had even begun! Though she likes to throw up her hands and declare "oh, this modern world!" she has quite a firm grasp on a lot of the things that are going on. We also got to watch the video from her 95th birthday party this past summer, which I was glad to see because I was sorry to have missed the celebration.

On Sunday morning, we found what must be the only dive bar in all of Santa Barbara, and Billy found out what it is like to begin watching NFL football at 10am. The Ravens lost, but I learned the appropriate drink for a woman to order in this environment: a mimosa. After that, my Uncle Dean, my Aunt Andy, and my cousins David and Patrick arrived. I don't think I have seen them since I was in high school, so it was fun to catch up with them and hear a little bit about what they've been doing lately. (Patrick is a junior at UC Davis, and David works in San Franscisco.) Vickie got in that evening, so we got to celebrate her birthday with cake and ice cream.

On Monday, our close family friend/surrogate grandmother, Mrs. Whitney, met us all for lunch right on the beach in Santa Barbara. The location was beautiful and it was warm! Then we took Billy for a walk along the beach in town and went out onto the pier to take pictures and look in some shops. Then I made them all go to State Street in search of Pinkberry, the upscale frozen yogurt that is a favorite of the celebrities. It was delicious, but since State Street is the shopping district in SB, the people watching was even better. I loved that everyone there was consciously constructing a "look," and that every different type of look I know was represented: tailored, trendy, boho, surfer, emo, green, and more. There was not a lazy t-shirt and jeans anywhere to be seen. Billy just said, "this is what I thought people in California would be like." : ) We ended the day with family dinner at Gramma's and game night, which was also a lot of fun, and during which the cheaters were vanquished. The next morning, Mrs. Whitney took us all out to breakfast, and this time Billy and I got to spend the whole meal chatting with her, which was delightful. She is the first person I've talked to yet who seemed to fully appreciate my excitement about finding Cather's letter to Mencken. Mrs. Whitney knows a lot about everything, including space, so it was fun to listen to her talking to Billy about his job, too.

(From Left: Mrs. Whitney, Liz, Billy, Vickie, Patrick, Mom, Gramma, David, Uncle Dean)

After breakfast, Billy, Vickie, and I made the drive up to Lompoc, where we were going to be staying with my dad's parents, Mimi and Papa. It was fun pulling up to their house with Billy, because they have lived at 1124 N Gardenia since long before I was born. The tree out front that I crashed into when learning to ride a bike is gone, and they have replaced the blue shag carpet that was great for pick-up-stix, but it still feels like "home" to me.

After visiting with them for a while, Dad and Judy arrived, and Papa took us all on a tour of the Lompoc Valley. He took us up above the valley so we could look down on it, and he pointed out Vandenberg Air Force Base and the places from which they launch the rockets, some of which are affiliated with Billy's job. Driving around town with Papa is especially fun because he says things like, "I leveled the ground for this development," or "my crew carved out this mountainside to give clearance for the wings of the space shuttle when they towed it down the road." Billy got to see my Uncle Steve's farm and all the crops, too. We made a quick trip to a bar called Jasper's to visit with my (great) Aunt Betty before she left town. Outside, an older, homeless looking woman shuffled by, which struck me as strange because I have never in my life seen a homeless person in Lompoc (I thought they had all moved to Santa Barbara). Billy and I had to try to keep from laughing when, after she walked by, Papa said, "she was in my graduating class at Lompoc High," before pointing her out as Mimi's "friend," to which Mim said "she said hello to you, Donnie."

All of my dad's siblings still live in Lompoc, so it was a great chance to spend time with different family members. Our cousin Mackenzee is 13 now, and she was a lot of fun to have along throughout our visit. I kept my mouth shut about her plans to quit dance and stick with soccer but it was fun to hear her thinking through decisions like this on her own. Her brother Dalton is 16, so he was busy with friends while we were there, but he still made some time to come to family dinner at Mim's and stop by for some football. He says he wants to go to the University of Texas, so maybe this will finally give me an excuse to visit Austin. Their parents, my Aunt Kim and Uncle Craig, were great to see, and since Craig and Dalton weren't able to make it to Maryland for the wedding, I was really glad Billy was able to meet them. I was not surprised to find that Uncle Craig is also a Rob Dyrdek fan or that Billy noticed how unique my Aunt Kim's laugh is. : )

We also got to spend some time with Dad, Judy, Aunt Carrie, and Uncle Steve at Carrie and Steve's house. They just put in bar in their upstairs room, along with a 60" television, so this was the prime place to watch Navy destroy Missouri in their bowl game and to see Oregon fare less favorably in the Rose Bowl against Ohio State. Aunt Carrie also made dinner for us on New Year's Eve, including some fresh artichokes from Uncle Steve's farm and prime rib from the cow raised by one of Mackenzee's 4-H friends. (We didn't get to eat any of Luau, the pig Mackenzee raised from 30ish pounds to 240 pounds, though.) My Aunt Dana joined us for this dinner as well as the spaghetti dinner Mim had made the night before, and it was good to have a chance to hear what she has been up to lately.

I am very thankful that Billy and I got to stay with Mimi and Papa, who went out of their way to make us feel right at home, as always. Billy got to experience some of their bantering back and forth and their interjecting into one another's stories. These two have always cracked me up. I hope that when we are retired, Billy and I get to enjoy a life together like they have. This gives me about 30 years to convince Billy that we should get a motorhome, because right now, he is not enthusiastic about the idea. : ) Mim even made us breakfast every morning without mentioning the fact that when I was young, I called her velveeta macaroni and cheese "disgusting."

One moment that I think gave Billy a pretty good indication of my "family life" in Lompoc revolved around a discussion of Mike Leach, the now former head coach of Texas Tech's football team. The questions about whether or not he locked a player with a concussion into a dark room kept being discussed on the tv. Mimi and Papa kept talking about how unfortunate it was that this young man has brought down this coach's career when nobody really knows what happened. Papa pointed out that one of the other coaches called the player "uncoachable." Dad pointed out that Leach would have to be stupid to lock up that particular kid, because his dad works for ESPN. My Aunt Dana sided with the kid and was ready to condemn Leach, suggesting that they should "put him where they put Michael Vick." Then someone brought up the fact that earlier in the season, Leach said his players were doing poorly because they were spending time with their "fat little girlfriends." My Aunt Kim said that was awful, and everyone else agreed, and then after a pause, my Uncle Craig said, "Well, were they fat?" Kim shouted "Craig!", Mim said "well, that was not nice," and Billy and I cracked up.

This is life in the Chambers family, Billy. Welcome to it!!

("The Californian's Tale" is a short story by Mark Twain about California during its prospecting/ Gold Rush days.)

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

Billy and I enjoyed a really nice Christmas this year. We didn't get to see Billy's mom's side of the family because they celebrated together on the 26th, after we had already left town. But we got to see them all at Thanksgiving, and we stopped by MomMom's a few days before the holiday to spend some time with her. On Christmas Eve, we had dinner with Billy's dad's side of the family at Nana's house, which was relaxed and pleasant. After that, we exchanged gifts at Billy's parents' house before coming home.

On Christmas day, Billy and I slept late and stayed in bed to watch A Christmas Story with Oscar. I spent most of the day reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, which I mentioned earlier that I was giving to Mom for Christmas. I like the hustle and bustle of being with family for the holidays, but I really liked spending a relaxing day at home with Billy and Oscar before heading to Patti and Chuck's to have Christmas dinner with both of them and Brian.

In Eat, Pray, Love, an Italian friend of Gilbert's tells her that every city has a "word," and every person has one, too. The word sums up the attitude of the city but also what drives its action and motivates its inhabitants. He says that Rome's word is "sex." She decides that New York City's word is "achieve" and that Los Angeles's word is "succeed," which is similar but not quite the same. Since reading this, I have been thinking about what my "word" would be. I think I've decided that recently, my word has been "discover." I think this operates in a couple of different ways. In my academic pursuits, I am always trying to figure out what there is to discover: in the books themselves, in the connections between them, in the relationships between the books and their historical contexts, and more. My discovery that Willa Cather's letter to H.L. Mencken says almost exactly what I would have predicted it would say was one of the most exciting moments of my semester.

I think that discover is also my "word," though, because I am also always trying to discover more about myself. Graduate school has allowed me to push myself to what feels like the limit, to go beyond that limit, and to learn that I am capable of even more than I realized. I think distance running appeals to me in the same way; it is a chance to push my physical body beyond the point at which I want to give up, to refuse to quit, and to discover that I'm capable of more than I might have thought. I think this focused process of physical, emotional, and intellectual self-discovery has helped me to feel much more at peace with myself and my surroundings since I started graduate school. I think it has made me happier in my life and has benefitted my marriage, even though all these pursuits put constraints upon my time. I have always enjoyed spending time with Billy, but lately I have been at peace in a way I had not been before.

I've also been trying to think of how I can apply this strategy of "discovery" to my work as an educator. Next year, I will most likely be back in the classroom, whether that is as a high school teacher or as a teaching assistant at Maryland. I'd like to figure out how I can use this approach to discover more about myself, my students, and my subject in my work as a teacher.

More to come about our trip to California...

('Twas the Night Before Christmas is the classic holiday story by Clement Clarke Moore that we read every Christmas Eve in my family.)

One of Ours

Billy's grandfather, who we all call Pop, passed away on Saturday. He has been battling serious health problems for about two years now, and although the family members were all aware that this day was not far off, I don't think you can really prepare for losing a loved one.I feel terrible for Billy, who was really close to his grandfather. I've always loved hearing stories about the goofy things Pop did when Billy was growing up. It's awful to know that your husband is hurting, but there isn't anything you can do to help.

I can't imagine how hard this is for Patti, who has done everything she can for her dad her whole life, but especially these past two years. I know Pop was very appreciative of all the ways she and Chuck took care of him on a daily basis since he has needed medical attention. I hope that once her heartache is not so raw, Patti will be able to recognize that she helped keep her dad alive these past two years, which gave him the chance to see his great-grandson and enjoy several "extra" family gatherings.

My heart breaks for MomMom. She and Pop had been married 54 years. She has a large, supportive family, and I hope that in time she will find strength in them. But it must have been almost impossible to wake up this morning and know she had to face the first day without her partner.

As for me, I'll miss my friend. A few weeks after I moved out here, the family went to the Maryland State Fair. Everyone was walking quickly from place to place, and I felt bad leaving Pop behind, so I was walking in the back with him. From that point on, he was my buddy. At the large family gatherings that overwhelmed me for years, I always felt better if I could find a seat near Pop, because he would make jokes to me that nobody else could hear. He made me feel like part of the family right from the beginning. When I showed him the engagement ring Billy gave me, he said "I taught him right." One time we were talking about weddings, and Pop said he said he always knew Billy was going to marry me, and when I jokingly asked him if that was good news or bad news, he said he knew I was the right girl as soon as he met me. When he came to visit our house the first time, he asked me if he could move in. When Oscar was a puppy, and demonstrated his worst behavior whenever we had visitors, Pop always said "He's a good dog, Will." As it turns out, he was right. One time I was driving Pop to the store, and he decided that we should take a trip to Florida instead of driving back to the house. I said MomMom and Billy would probably miss us, and he said "They'd live." He always knew just what to say to get me to crack up laughing. Even when he was in the hospital he was always joking and laughing with the nurses and telling me if they'd given him pretty ones or not.

Life simply won't be the same without him around. Last night, Patti said something that I think sums it up best, when she said "Part of him is in each of you."

Although I wasn't in much of a competitive mood, I still decided to run the Army Ten Miler this morning. Billy was kind enough to come along and cheer me on. I crossed the finish line 11669th out of 21289 finishers, which was good enough to place 3801st out of 9566 women. I didn't set a personal record, and was about 3 minutes slower than my goal time, but I still enjoyed being out there with 30,000 people to support military families. I was thinking about my own favorite military family, the Hoffmanns (recently photographed here). It was cool to see people in shirts with pictures and names of the deployed friends and family members they were running for. A few groups of women were in matching outfits, with what must have been their husbands' names on the back. Several soldiers that had been wounded in action participated in the race, too. My husband managed to get a picture of me as I ran by him, smiling because I was halfway done and excited that I had found him in the crowd.


Whether it's the death of a loved one, or budget cuts, or unexpected hills at mile 9, I'm always thankful that I've found a man who makes the tough moments in life more managable. Popular music would have you believe that love is a battlefield, but with Billy, love means having a soft place to land. He's named after Pop, and I know that in many ways, he is his grandfather's grandson. I hope I get to keep my partner for 50+ years.

(The book referenced in the title is One of Ours by Willa Cather, a novel about life in the midwest, military service, and the loss of a family member.)

Shelter from the Storm

My reading load this week has been comparatively light, which has allowed me to enjoy a bit of relaxation and re-prioritization that has served me well. It has been a pleasant week.

Tuesday, I set aside all the stuff I was "supposed" to be working on, and focused instead on what I wanted to be working on: my PhD writing sample. I finished the book I had assigned myself and completed the 1 page abstract of my argument that my professor requested. He and I were both happy with the result, so after a bit more research, I will be ready to begin writing it! For dinner, we met up with Billy's family to celebrate Chuck's birthday.

Wednesday, I had a productive meeting with my aesthetic theory professor. I have a paper due for her tomorrow, and when I left her class Monday night, I had no idea what to write about. My meeting helped me talk through some things that had been confusing me, and the paper is almost finished. She also confirmed that I don't need to retake the GRE for my application, so that was a relief.

Thursday, I survived another Readings in Early Modern Literature class meeting, enjoyed spending some time reading Inada (more on that in a minute), and watched The Office with Billy. Last week's episode was a bit of a dud, so I was happy that this one made me laugh again.

Friday, my boss was out of the office, so I was able to get some of my reading done at work. (It's not that I'm a bad employee; when she's not there to give me work, I have little to do besides answer peoples' questions.) By Friday night, Billy's injured leg had healed sufficiently to allow him to participate in our softball game, which did not get rained out for the first time in weeks. Although we suffered our first loss, I was called out by the umpire when I was clearly safe, and we had so many girls that I had to sit out the second half, I had a good time.

Saturday, I spent several hours communing with Katherine Anne Porter, and by that I mean reading through the marginal comments she wrote in the books she left to the University of Maryland. I am trying to figure out the connection between her and Willa Cather, so my success of the day was finding a note in which she acknowledges the similarity between a scene she wrote and one Cather wrote. I believe I finally found the perfect pale pink nail polish (OPI's Isn't it Romantic?)-- feel free to laugh, but this search has been going on for months. To finish up the week, Danielle and I met for dinner at The Cheesecake Factory, where I got to enjoy my Renee's Special, Chocolate Raspberry Truffle cheesecake, and Danielle's company. : )

As I said before, I've really been enjoying the Inada poetry collection I was assigned this week. Tucked inside the "Oregon" section are a few poems about his wife, including the one I leave you with below, which I wish I had discovered in time to have it read at my wedding. So simple, but just right.

X. Pledge

Repeat after me:

I

Do

You

We

Be

(Repeat as necessary.)