Wednesday, February 28: Welcome to our February cocktail hour! Please, come in out of the cold and keep me company. This month I can offer you a special Mardi Gras Blackberry Basil Margarita, as our ice maker is now operational. I know it’s already Lent, so for those of you who honorably practice your faith, I can also offer sodas or seltzer water of various flavors.
I hope February has been good to you so far. February has never been my favorite month, except for Valentine’s day, which never quite lives up to the hype, and my husband’s birthday on the 26th. I’m happy it’s a short month. I always think of it as a grey and brown month, and my pictures below will confirm that view. It also is a month of preparation for the year. Since the outdoors is so uninviting, I tend to stay in a lot, reading and embellishing my dreams.
Have you read any good books, seen any good movies, binge-watched any television series? Have you learned anything new, taken any classes or just kept up with the news? Have you been to the theater or to a concert? Have you been planning your adventures for the year? Have you had any winter getaways? Have you sung along with any new songs? Have you dreamed any dreams? Gone to any exotic restaurants, cooked any new dishes? Have you undertaken any new exercise routines?
Preparing for upcoming travels
I’m enjoying immersing myself in my upcoming journeys. This coming weekend, Mike and I will visit Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Only a four-hour drive from here, it’s pathetic that I’ve never been. For many years, I’ve overlooked American cities as worthy travel destinations. Now, I keep adding them to my travel plans. Why not take advantage of places closer to home? When I was 23, I took a three-month cross-country trip around the USA and I figured I’d been there, done that. I guess I’ve taken my country for granted.
After all my travels abroad, and after coming to appreciate all the nuances of different cultures and countries, I can more fully appreciate the variations in American sub-cultures and American places. Even within our small towns and our national and state parks, treasures are waiting to be unveiled.
To prepare, I’ve read two novels and one memoir featuring the city, as well as Moon Handbooks Pennsylvania – the part about Pittsburgh. Here are the three books I’ve read that feature Pittsburgh:
These books have fueled my imagination and will surely add depth to my visit. We also watched The Perks of Being a Wallflower, which takes place in the city. The movie inspires me to stand up through the sunroof of our car as we drive through the Fort Pitt Tunnel. 🙂
I created a playlist on Spotify for the trip as well. Of course, one must have a playlist when taking an American Road Trip! Here are my Pittsburgh Tunes.
I’ve now postponed my Four Corners Road Trip to May, as parts of Mesa Verde National Park don’t open until May 20. Because of this, I’m working backwards from there, and have plotted out much of my trip, beginning my drive from Virginia on May 1 with a planned arrival in Denver on the evening of May 3 after three 8-hour days of driving. Mike will join me in Denver and will fly back home from Phoenix after 10 days; we’ll part ways in Flagstaff, and unless my sister decides to join me, I’ll be doing the rest alone. I have a long reading list around this area.
Finally, I’ve started preparing for walking the Camino de Santiago in September. I found out that the The Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela only swings the large incense burners on certain days. I had mistakenly thought they did it every day. As I really want to be there for the pilgrim’s service where they swing the incense, I will aim to arrive there for the November 1 service on All Saints Day. This month, I’ve continued reading the three books I mentioned last month. I’ve also increased my walking distances and started going to the gym.
To immerse myself in the Camino experience, I shared Spanish tapas with pilgrims and wanna-be pilgrims at a potluck for American Pilgrims on the Camino in early February. This month, I walked 40 miles in my Keen Targhee hiking boots, 23 miles in Brooks Ghost running shoes, and 4 miles in Merrill trail runners, in an attempt to break in boots/shoes and decide which ones to wear on the Camino.
I hiked 4 miles on the Vienna bike trail.
It was a gloomy day when I joined the Mid-Atlantic Hiking group on the Gold Mine Area Trails and Great Falls, but at least it didn’t rain. I somehow twisted my knee on this 7.2 mile hike, which got me a little worried. To help build strength in that knee and in my shoulders, I’ve been to the gym twice a week for weight-lifting and doing calisthenics recommended by my son, Alex, who does calisthenics coaching part-time.
I also hiked 4.7 miles at Bull Run Mountains State Natural Area Preserve with the Mid-Atlantic Hiking Group and sipped wines at the Winery at La Grange afterward. We found an old cemetery on that hike.
On another miserable Saturday, I slogged 6.4 miles through mud and rain at Fraser Preserve and had coffee after with Susan, a Camino pilgrim I met on an earlier hike. We were covered in mud and our hair was plastered to our heads!
delectable treats, movies and celebrations
I’ve been whipping up experimental dishes, including a simple pasta with broccoli rabe. Mike and I ate Thai food at Kobkun Fine Thai Cuisine. We celebrated Valentine’s Day with sushi, sake and Sapporo at Yoko Sushi. I saw Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri for the second time, since Mike didn’t see it with me the first time I saw it. After, we enjoyed Malai Kofta at Curry Mantra. I learned more about the complicated Palestinian situation from the movie The Insult, where a Lebanese Christian and a Palestinian get into a vicious court case over an insult. After the movie, we tried a new restaurant, Havabite Eatery, where I scarfed down a white pizza. We shared blackened swordfish tacos and avocado super toast at Earls Tyson’s Corner for a mid-week treat.
Challenges… and life goes on
We stood by helplessly as my youngest son, feeling frustrated by his close friend’s emotional breakdown and the toxic environment at his job, walked out of work without telling his boss he was leaving. A week later, he announced he was taking off to live the life of freedom, or the “hero’s journey,” he envisions – a life where he will “sign no leases, fill out no resumes, work cash jobs, and treat each day as a holy-day.” I gently suggested that if it’s his philosophy to live that way, he should be a man and stop expecting his parents to bail him out, and he should not expect to come back home except to visit on holidays. That’s when he said, “Every day is a holy-day!” Oh dear. There are some things I will never understand, but I know he’s going to live his life how he sees fit, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. All I can do is choose how I will respond to what he does. As it was, we parted on good terms, and I wished him the best and told him I love him. I’m working on letting it all go.
Though feeling gobsmacked by our son’s surprise departure, we celebrated Mike’s 64th birthday by having dinner of Zucchini Babycorn Jalfrezi and Gobi Tak a Tin at Masala Art and then seeing Hold These Truths at Arena Stage, about Japanese-American Gordon Hirabayashi’s fight against the US government’s orders to forcibly remove and mass incarcerate all people of Japanese ancestry on the West Coast during WWII. What an appropriate theme for today’s political environment, where immigrants are being excised daily from our society.
I finished reading seven more books (14 total for the year), especially loving: The English Major by Jim Harrison and the audiobook of Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann. I also finished reading The Girl in the Moon Circle by Sia Figiel for an A-Z book group that is reading, in alphabetical order, books from all the countries of the world. Our group mistakenly thought the book was about American Samoa, but it’s actually about Samoa, to the west of American Samoa. 🙂
I’ve also been slowly working on posts about my travels, finally finishing up my time in Japan (catbird in japan); I’m getting close to finishing with Prague (in search of a thousand cafes). I’m planning to start a new blog in March, unconnected to any of my other blogs, which will encompass all things travel: inspiration, making an art of travel, and creating art from travel. I hope you’ll join me there when I start it. Once the blog is live, I’ll stop posting on all my other blogs except this one, where I’ll continue to share things not related to travel.
I hope all is well for you and I look forward to hearing what’s going on with you! I wish you a happy March!:-)
Thursday, November 30: It’s time for our monthly cocktail hour again, but this time I’m afraid I can’t offer you any cocktails. It will have to be a non-alcoholic gathering, as our family has now come face-to-face, in the most unpleasant way, with the full-blown realization that we have an alcoholic in our midst. I’ll tell you more about it later, but for now, please come in and keep me company. I could certainly use a listener, and I’d love the distraction of hearing what’s happening in other people’s lives.
I can offer you soda, hot tea or coffee, or even hot apple cider, since it’s getting cold now. We also have tap water, of course, with a twist of lemon or lime, or I can offer you La Croix grapefruit flavored sparkling water. You all know I love my glass of wine, but I have to save that treat for when I’m outside the house.
“There’s not alcoholic in the world who wants to be told what to do. Alcoholics are sometimes described as egomaniacs with inferiority complexes. Or, to be cruder, a piece of shit that the universe revolves around.”
― Anthony Kiedis, Scar Tissue
I hope November has been good to you. Have you read any good books, seen any good movies or performances, binge-watched any television series? Have you encountered any challenges or jumped any big hurdles? Have you welcomed any visitors? Have you wandered or journeyed; have you dreamed any dreams? Have you had any massages? Gone to any exotic restaurants, cooked any new dishes? Have you embarked on any new endeavors?
Our month started out well enough. My son’s girlfriend Maddy was still here and he was occupied with her, though he still hadn’t returned to work. I think they had worked out Maddy would pay for everything while here, as he had spent all his money in Australia. He wasn’t working so had no income coming in.
I was trying to play catch-up with some free webinars offered by a friend of mine, Pooja, under her business name of Daring Daydreamers. I hadn’t been able to attend the live versions, so I was trying to catch up on the first two replays: “Vision Boarding for Success” and “Intentional Mind Mapping,” in preparation for the third one, “Communicating Your Vision with Ease” on Friday, November 3. After attending this webinar live, I signed up for the two-hour “Business Planning Workshop” which was on the 16th. Pooja had given all attendees a Business Planning Worksheet to complete prior to the webinar, which was fairly easy to do as I had started creating a business plan before I left for Japan.
I also set a goal for myself to write two draft chapters of my memoir each week, and except for Thanksgiving week, I did just that, although I must admit they are very rough drafts.
I saw a lot of movies this month, probably to make up for not seeing a single movie in the theater in October, and to escape the house. I go often to Cinema Arts Theatre in Fairfax on Senior Wednesday for $5.50. I went to see the adorable movie Lucky, about a 90-year-old atheist who, after a sudden collapse in his home, has to accept that his good health may be declining and that his life may be coming to an end. He’s a gruff but endearing character who gets up every morning and does a few yoga poses in his underwear, puts on one of the five identical plaid shirts he has in his closet, and goes out for a walk, smoking cigarettes along the way and encountering his fellow citizens in his small derelict town. He questions his neighbors’ beliefs and fine-tunes his own along the way.
Mike and I enjoyed a fun vegan taco dinner with our friends Karen and Michael on Saturday, the 4th. This was the first time we’ve visited them in their new house and we had a great time. On Sunday afternoon, we went together to see The Florida Project, a depressing and hopeless story about poverty and generational problems in the shadow of the make-believe land of Disney World in Florida. It definitely gave us something to talk about, especially how the mother’s behavior in letting her daughter run rampant translated into a bratty spoiled child who didn’t have any likable qualities about her.
November 7 was Election Day and in Virginia, it was an important election as we were voting for a new Governor (Ralph Northam won!), Lieutenant Governor (Justin Fairfax), Attorney General (Mark Herring) and a new delegate for the 67th District (Karrie Delaney). It turned out to be a Democratic sweep, thank goodness, a clear message to Trump that Virginians want nothing to do with his brand of hatred.
After I voted I went to my tailor and asked her to take a picture of my “I Voted” sticker; it was recommended we put pictures on social media to remind others to vote. It just so happened the picture showed her “Alterations” sign on the window, and I noted on my picture that I voted for “Alterations” in our current government.
I found a picture on Pinterest, which I don’t often look at, of a meal that inspired me to make this meal of quinoa, black beans, roasted butternut squash, avocado, arugula & yellow tomatoes. It was delicious!
On Wednesday, November 8, I went to see Victoria & Abdul, about the aging Queen Victoria and her unusual friendship with a young Indian clerk. I always love Judy Dench, and she was her superb self in this movie. We’ve also recently watched the first season of the TV series, Victoria, about Queen Victoria’s early life. Now we just need the middle part filled in.
On Thursday, November 9, I went to visit my father and his wife in Yorktown, but I stayed less than two hours. I have a fraught relationship with my father and I haven’t seen him since I threw a birthday party for him in September of 2016. At that party, his wife Shirley told me Dad wanted to cancel three weeks before the party, despite the fact that I did everything in my power to get everyone together for that party, even my sister in California who hates to fly and rarely travels. Luckily, Shirley talked Dad out of cancelling or I would have been furious. He told me at that party that he would never make the trip to northern Virginia again (about a 3 hour trip by car under the best of traffic), yet he continues to travel about 30 minutes south of here to visit his wife’s family. He’s also a Trump supporter and a racist, so I really can’t take much of him. I know he’s getting older and more frail, so I try to do my daughterly duty periodically.
After a tense conversation, I left his house and went to Richmond where I met Sarah and Alex at Joe’s Inn, where Sarah has worked as a bartender and waitress for nearly 10 years. They were finishing up their drinks and Alex had to run off to meet someone, so we shortly left. Sarah and I went by ourselves to share a lovely dinner at Demi’s Mediterranean Kitchen.
On Saturday morning I went for a walk in Sarah’s neighborhood of Woodland Park while she took her dog for a slow walk. The trees were beautiful in her neighborhood. Then we had a delicious lunch at Chopt Salad at Willow Lawn.
Woodland Heights Baptist Church
I loved all the fallen leaves in Woodland Park. I don’t know why it makes me so happy to shuffle through colorful fallen leaves in autumn.
We celebrated our anniversary (29 years minus a handful of gap years) at Maple Avenue Restaurant in Vienna on Monday, November 13. Earlier that day, my son’s girlfriend Maddy left to return to Australia.
This night, though fun while we were out, marked the end of innocence for our family. Little did we know this would be the beginning of a spiraling decline in our son’s life.
At this point, still foolishly believing life was good, we enjoyed our dinner. I had an appetizer of crispy broccoli with panko breading, gold raisins, caraway, and yogurt herb sauce. It was a little too heavily breaded and deep-fried for my taste; I was expecting a light dusting of bread crumbs. Mike’s appetizer of house spreads was much better: burrata, liver mousse, bacon jam, herb ricotta, currant jam, and crostinis. For dinner, I somewhat enjoyed my Arctic Char Fillet with fresh herb spaetzle pasta, oregano, and smoky tomato sauce. Again, Mike’s meal was better: pork confit steak with fingerlings, brown butter, sweet potato, eggplant caponata, and chimi churri. I’m not generally a pork eater, but this dish was lean and flavorful and surprisingly good.
Finally, to top off our meal, we had fried apple pie with lavender honey, dulce de leche, and old-fashioned ice cream. This time mine was better than Mike’s Lithuanian Honey Layer Cake with cinnamon, allspice and caramelized honey, and whipped sour cream.
fried apple pie
Lithuanian Honey Layer Cake
fried apple pie
I continued to take my 3-mile walks all over the place, but on this Thursday after our anniversary, on a walk around Lake Audubon, the trees were glowing.
On Friday afternoon before Thanksgiving, I met my friend Leah in D.C. at Pearl Dive Oyster Palace for brunch and bottomless mimosas. She lives in San Francisco but comes home to D.C. to visit her father each year around Thanksgiving. Leah got the most delicious Chopped Salad with Buttermilk-Jalapeno Dressing, Market Vegetables, and Popcorn Crawfish, while I enjoyed a small portion of 3 Cornmeal Crusted Chesapeake Oysters served over Andouille Sausage & Sweet Potato Hash. It was a tiny meal but delicious. No matter, I was mostly focused on the bottomless mimosas for $20. This Bottomless Mimosa Brunch is hosted every Friday, Saturday and Sunday from 11:00 am to 3:00 pm with Reggae tunes playing in the background. We had a great time all around, catching up on our lives while also bemoaning the state of our government in the last year, with the despicable and greedy Republicans in charge.
We passed by Birch and Barley, which looked to be closed but I found out later is not. I recognized it as the place where my CELTA class colleagues and students went to celebrate after our last day of class in October of 2015.
The Pajama Game was first produced in 1954, with catchy tunes and sexy dance numbers. The musical’s themes revolve around protest and inequality in the workplace.
I finished reading three books this month: first, I finished Water from heaven: An American woman’s life as an Arab wife, by Anne Schreiber Thomas. I met Anne and her husband when I lived in Oman and she and her husband lived in Abu Dhabi. The story tells of an American woman, Cindy Lou Davis, who met and married Mohammed Ali, a Muslim from the oil-rich United Arab Emirates. Anne knows Cindy Lou and she did a great job of capturing Arab culture in UAE, not too dissimilar from Oman’s. I also finished Losing Julia by Jonathan Hull, which I really enjoyed. Lastly, I read the bizarre book, The Sexual Life of an Islamist in Paris, by Leila Marouane. I started reading this book because I planned to join a book group that is reading books from all the countries of the world in alphabetical order. The story actually takes place in Paris but it was chosen as an Algerian book, since the protagonist Mohamed Ben Mokhtar, who has Frenchified his name to Basile Tocquard, and his family are Algerian. If you’re interested in reading my reviews of these books, you can probably find them by clicking on the title links above.
On Sunday, November 19, Mike and I took a walk along the Fairfax Cross County Trail. It was a beautiful crisp fall day, but I was feeling a little anxious about the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. Worried about our son’s drinking, I had counted the number of wine bottles, and was certain that two had gone missing. I knew when Sarah and Alex came for the holiday, the wine would be flowing and I didn’t know how Adam would cope.
On Tuesday morning before Thanksgiving, I woke up to hear a tense discussion in the basement between my husband and son, and I found a note under my empty wine rack. I had hidden all the wine bottles on Monday, but on Monday afternoon I had bought two more for the holidays and thought, He wouldn’t dare take these when they’re the last two. The note said, “Sorry for taking wine. I love you. Thank you.” Apparently he had drunk the two bottles over the night and was drunk first thing in the morning. A huge argument ensued with screaming and yelling. Things got so nasty that I threatened to call the police.
Slowly, we all calmed down and had a long talk, made up, cried and hugged. Later in the morning, I invited Adam to walk with me, again on the same Cross County Trail. We had such a wonderful day, talking about everything, about how difficult it was for him when in every social situation people are pressuring him to drink, and how he felt powerless. He talked about wanting moderation, being able to have just one or two drinks, but how he couldn’t seem to stop once he started. We talked about how it was important for him to go to AA so he wouldn’t have to go it alone, so he could have a community of people who also struggle with addiction. We could send him to rehab, I could drive him to AA, he could join some Meetup groups of people with similar interests so he didn’t feel so isolated. We talked about how he’d cope over Thanksgiving when people were drinking. We loaded him up with Kombucha, so he could drink that while others were drinking wine. He seemed receptive. After our walk, we went to Mom’s Organic Market so he could pick out some healthy food (he’s very picky about the kind of food he’ll eat) and we shared some healthy bowls at the Naked Lunch Cafe.
See how much help I tried to offer?! See how foolish, and how crazy, I was?
On our way home, Adam told me how he’d like to make some suggestions to his boss to improve his business so his boss wouldn’t be so angry all the time. It sounds like the business is growing and needs more employees, so I immediately thought of ZipRecruiter, an advertisement I hear every day on Modern Love: The Podcast. (Again, I’m so full of helpful ideas!) I told Adam that I listen every day to Modern Love and they play the same two ads: ZipRecruiter and Iconundies.com, about pee-proof underwear for women. We laughed about those and then he was interested in hearing the podcast to hear the advertisements. It just so happened the next podcast up on my list was this one: “Take My Son To Jail: Modern Love 72.” The essay, read aloud on the podcast, was about a son who was diagnosed with various things over the years, from autism to schizophrenia, but nothing ever seemed right. It turned out the son had told his mother at 18 that he wanted to be treated like an adult. Then he went through a stretch of time where he lied about everything and then stole his mother’s car. When the police in their small town called the mother, she told them to take him to jail, because he’d said he wanted to be treated like an adult and she was sick of all the lies and his behavior. She did it lovingly. Sadly, many years later, the son was found dead in his apartment at age 28 with no known cause of death.
We weren’t finished listening to the podcast when we pulled into our driveway, but Adam wanted to finish listening to it after we got in the house. As I had just threatened to call the police this morning, maybe he could identify with it. I hoped that maybe he understood where I was coming from.
We hadn’t shared a day that wonderful in a long time. All seemed good. And hopeful.
“I felt empty and sad for years, and for a long, long time, alcohol worked. I’d drink, and all the sadness would go away. Not only did the sadness go away, but I was fantastic. I was beautiful, funny, I had a great figure, and I could do math. But at some point, the booze stopped working. That’s when drinking started sucking. Every time I drank, I could feel pieces of me leaving. I continued to drink until there was nothing left. Just emptiness.”
― Dina Kucera, Everything I Never Wanted to Be
But. Hope is fool’s folly when dealing with an addict. This is the dilemma. As his parents, we love him and want the best for him. We want him to be happy and productive and responsible. We want him to be a man. We are willing to do anything to help him. And this is where the problem lies. WE CANNOT HELP HIM UNLESS HE WANTS TO HELP HIMSELF. And though he SAYS he wants to help himself, he doesn’t actually take action to do it. This is where we want so desperately to believe, but we’re fools for doing so. In our belief that we can fix him, we’re as insane as he is.
Before he left for Australia in mid-September, he was doing so well. He was working, saving money, paying his debt, working solidly on a podcast which I thought was very well done. He was proud of himself for being clean for 70 days. But once he got to Australia, he was pressured constantly to drink, and apparently he did drink, so much that he didn’t like how he was feeling and acting, so he quit cold turkey. He said that weekend after he stopped was hell because everyone else was partying like their lives depended on it and he felt outside of things.
While in Australia, he lost his momentum on his podcast and spent all his money. And then he brought Maddy home with him, and he promptly got sick and didn’t go back to work. He and Maddy broke up and she left earlier than she originally planned. Maybe their relationship was doomed because of the hopelessness of being on opposite sides of the world. Maddy doesn’t want to leave Australia and he doesn’t want to leave the U.S. He has no career and no direction and knows he needs to get his life together, but he just can’t seem to muster what it takes.
This is the nature of the addict.
“A man who drinks too much on occasion is still the same man as he was sober. An alcoholic, a real alcoholic, is not the same man at all. You can’t predict anything about him for sure except that he will be someone you never met before.”
― Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye
Thanksgiving actually went pretty well. Sarah and Alex arrived, they drank wine and Adam drank Kombucha. We enjoyed chatting and we all watched several episodes of Fresh Off the Boat together, all bundled together under blankets on the couch in the basement. The next day, we worked together to prepare dinner, enjoyed our huge meal, and then played a rousing game of Malarky together. It was great fun; I haven’t laughed so hard in ages. But where all of us could laugh, make fun of ourselves, and relax, Adam seemed on edge, testy. He always wants to win and takes it personally when he thinks he’s going to lose. He can be condescending and difficult to be around.
The day after Thanksgiving was worse, with Adam staying mostly to himself and Alex working out. Sarah was her easy-going self. I suggested we all go see Lady Bird together and everybody was up for it. I enjoyed it. Sarah said it reflected perfectly the struggles of her generation. I’m sure all my kids could relate to the mother-child struggles, with the mother pushing her child to be the best she could be.
But later, Adam sat in front of the TV, lost in his own thoughts, not talking to Alex or Sarah or any of us. He was supposed to go to work Friday night, but called in sick. He should have gone Saturday, but he didn’t then either. Sarah and Alex left around 11:00 on Saturday, and Adam went back into his shell, seeming more depressed than ever.
“I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn’t have a god, politics, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. I didn’t make for an interesting person. I didn’t want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was only a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone. On the other hand, when I got drunk I screamed, went crazy, got all out of hand. One kind of behavior didn’t fit the other. I didn’t care.”
― Charles Bukowski, Women
Difficult Valley Stream
On Sunday, Adam got up early and went to work. He was at work from 7 in the morning till 7:30 at night.Mike and I went for a fun hike at Maryland Heights. In the evening, we got a text that he was going to his friend’s house. I know he needs to have friends, but I know these friends like to drink. I was on edge all night. He never came home until 9:30 Monday morning. I didn’t know if he’d been drinking but I couldn’t help but suspect it. He steered clear of me and later in the day, I found him sleeping the day away in the basement. I asked if he’d been drinking last night and if he was going to an AA meeting we’d told him about on Monday evening. He answered no to both and said not to bother him, he was napping.
Later in the evening, I was determined that we talk to him together. We went downstairs and told him we wanted to talk to him about going to AA. Highly on edge, he said he wasn’t going and he didn’t want to talk about it. We insisted that we need to talk about it because our agreement was that he would start going to AA if he lived in our house. Tempers escalated and things got ugly, ending with him pounding a hole in his door, another hole in the wall, breaking his computer, and picking up an ottoman and trying to throw it at a TV. He said horrible things to us and was out of control. He told us he was more powerful than us and he became threatening. I threatened to call the police.
When things escalated even more, the decibel level nearly explosive, I did just what I threatened. I called the police, telling them we had a domestic situation. Adam left the house and sat outside waiting for the police. He wanted to tell his side of the story first, I guess. It was a horrible night. I told the police I wanted him out of the house. They told us we couldn’t just throw him out at that moment. They told me there was nothing they could do unless he actually hurt us. Wow, that might be too late, mightn’t it? The officer was a good man, kind and sympathetic. He said, with all his experience over 20 years with this kind of situation, there is nothing we can do to help our son unless he wants to help himself. He told us our options; we could go to the Sheriff’s Office and file eviction papers, post them on our house, and have him evicted in 30 days. We could file charges for property damages. He suggested we should wait till our tempers had calmed to continue our discussion. Then he left the house. I stood up, said I was done talking for the night, and went upstairs to bed, saying I had nothing more to say. But. I couldn’t sleep because I could hear Mike and Adam talking for two more hours, voices raised.
Later, Mike told me that in two hours of talking, our son said that when he came home from Hawaii, he spent two full weeks trying to detox by sleeping and spending a lot of time alone. He said Mike didn’t know how much he suffered because he was at work all the time (I was in Japan). He said he really does want to change.
I won’t believe it until I see it. I’m ready to file eviction papers at a moment’s notice, but I said I’d see how it goes over the next week. I hate the thought of evicting him in the middle of winter, but I don’t know what else to do. We have absolutely no control over him and I actually feel threatened in my house.
“You’re walking down Fool’s Street, Laura used to say when he was drinking, and she had been right. He had known even then that she was right, but knowing had made no difference; he had simply laughed at her fears and gone on walking down it, till finally he had stumbled and fell. Then, for a long time, he stayed away, and if he had stayed away long enough he would have been all right; but one night he began walking down it again – and met the girl. It was inevitable that on Fool’s Street there should be women as well as wine.
He had walked down it many times in many different towns, and now he was walking down it once again in yet another town. Fool’s Street never changed, no matter where you went, and this one was no different from the others. The same skeletonic signs bled beer names in vacant windows; the same winos sat in doorways nursing muscatel; the same drunk tank awaited you when at last your reeling footsteps failed. And if the sky was darker than usual, it was only because of the rain which had begun falling early that morning and been falling steadily ever since.”
― Robert F. Young, The Worlds of Robert F. Young
On Tuesday night, we watched the DVR of Madam Secretary we had recorded on Sunday. In the show, President Dalton was upset because his son, a drug addict, had checked himself into rehab. After an international incident in which the U.S., at the President’s insistence, tried to negotiate with Mexico to turn over an imprisoned drug lord to the U.S. to be prosecuted, Secretary McCord tells the President she’s sorry about his son. He says the worst thing is that no matter how many times his son goes to rehab, and how often he gets clean, he’s always going to have that demon on his shoulder, threatening to send him spiraling again.
Why has it taken us so long to face the fact our son is depressed and an alcoholic? Sure, we’ve had our suspicions. But I have tried to normalize it. I know depression runs in our family and all of us have grappled with it. I remind myself how many young people drink, how much I used to drink when I was in my 20s. But, then I never drank alone. I was always able to get up and go to work. Could I quit after two drinks? I often didn’t, but could I have?
How many times have we deluded ourselves? I’ve lost count. I had a wonderful day with my son on Tuesday before Thanksgiving, my sweet and brilliant son who was once so close to me. Now, less than a week later, we are in dire straits. I never know when another bomb will drop; it’s like I’m living in a war zone. He is depressed but refuses to seek help because he doesn’t trust doctors and he refuses to go on anti-depressants, yet he continues to self-medicate with drugs and alcohol. He is isolated and lonely, but he won’t go to AA. He thinks he’s more powerful than we are and we can’t force him to do anything. And he’s right about that. If he won’t help himself, how on earth can we help him?
Plainly and simply, we can’t.
But we can’t let him drag us down into his abyss. That I know. I am considering options. I am leaving open the eviction option. I am considering leaving the house and going to stay somewhere else until he’s out of the house. I am figuring out ways I can take care of myself and stop offering him help and solutions. He doesn’t want our help anyway, and in fact resents our meddling. I will work on myself, as I’m the only one who is any of my business.
“There are millions of people out there who live this way, and their hearts are breaking just like mine. It’s okay to say, “My kid is a drug addict or alcoholic, and I still love them and I’m still proud of them.” Hold your head up and have a cappuccino. Take a trip. Hang your Christmas lights and hide colored eggs. Cry, laugh, then take a nap. And when we all get to the end of the road, I’m going to write a story that’s so happy it’s going to make your liver explode. It’s going to be a great day.”
― Dina Kucera, Everything I Never Wanted to Be
I grew up with a mother who was paranoid schizophrenic and who attempted suicide (and failed) too many times to count. The first time, she walked in front of a neighbor’s VW van when I was 13 years old. Another time she drove into a tree. She was in and out of mental hospitals, undergoing electroshock therapy, and she was constantly on cocktails of anti-psychotic drugs. She was also an alcoholic. I survived those years by detaching and I’ll have to survive this by detaching. I love my son deeply, but I’m going to stand back for now. I have to, to keep from going crazy. Until he gets his life together, I need to keep distance between us. The whole environment is too toxic and too heartbreaking.
It may seem strange to be writing about anniversary celebrations, going to movies, reading books, meeting friends, and celebrating holidays in the midst of the hell we are going through. But that is life, isn’t it? We can choose to sit around wringing our hands in desperation, hoping that something good will come of all this or, alternatively, bracing ourselves for something horrible to happen. Or we can try to eke out moments of happiness in whatever ways we can in the midst of it all. I’m going to try to do the latter, for my sanity, which I’m determined to preserve. I did it when growing up with my mentally ill mother, so I’ll do it with my son as well.
We are at a stand-off now. I haven’t laid eyes on our son since Monday night, and he lives in our basement. Mike goes down once a day to check to see if he’s still alive. I cannot forget our terrifying Monday night and I’m sure he is furious at us. He probably feels hopeless, and that makes my heart break. But we feel hopeless too. Forgiveness will be slow in coming.
On Wednesday, November 29, I went again to Senior Wednesday to see Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. This may have been one of the best movies I’ve seen in a long time. The characters were complex and grew and learned from their experiences. It gave me a little hope for all of us.
Friday, December 1: I went to an Al-Anon meeting today at an Episcopal Church I used to attend. This group works on the 12 steps, one step each Friday at noon. Today, it so happened that they were working on Step 2: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. It helped me to listen to nearly 20 people share their struggles with the alcoholic or drug addicts in their lives. It helped me feel part of a community, that all is not hopeless, and that I need to focus on myself and to ask for help from a Higher Power. One thing I learned in Al-Anon today is that I have to trust in my Higher Power, whatever that means to me, and then I have to let go and believe that my son has his own Higher Power who will take care of him. They said to me: “Keep coming back.” I’ve dropped into Al-Anon meetings in the past, but only periodically, when things were in crisis mode. This time, I need to commit to going regularly, at least once a week, if not more.
Many people may be put off by my sharing of something so personal. But I am a strong believer in deep sharing, rather than superficiality. Looking at social media, one would think everyone’s lives are fine and glorious things. There is deep shame in society about talking about mental illness, depression and addiction. But I believe if we don’t talk about it, and we continue to sweep it under the table, it will continue to infect our societies, generation after generation, ad infinitum.
One day, you might be able to read all about all of this in my memoir.
In the meantime, I hope you’ll tell me something about your November, your life, your experiences, whether exciting or challenging. Anyway, I wish you all a fabulous December and a festive holiday season. 🙂
Monday, December 19: Welcome to our December happy hour! Come right in, make yourself comfortable and I’ll mix you up a drink. We’ll be indoors today because we’re in the midst of a cold spell now, 29 Fahrenheit (-2C). Would you care for an Appletini, a dirty martini, a glass of Scotch or amaretto? I’m happy to say I’m expanding my bartending capabilities (or at least Mike is — he’s become quite adept at whipping up delicious dirty martinis). Of course there will always be the old standbys of wine and beer.
I can also offer soda or seltzer water with lime if you prefer a non-alcoholic beverage.
I’m so happy to see you. We can mingle or we can sit, whatever is to your liking. I’d love to hear about your holiday season. Have you been on vacation or explored new areas close to home? Have you indulged in any daydreams? Have you changed jobs or gone into retirement? Have you seen any good movies or read any page-turners? Have you tried out any new restaurants or cooked anything wonderful at home? Have you had any special family gatherings? How was your Thanksgiving? Are you ready for Christmas? Are you preparing resolutions for the New Year?
I’m hoping against all odds that 2017 will be a better year than 2016, which I found to be pretty miserable overall. That being said, there were some bright spots sprinkled here and there.
Maybe you noticed, or maybe you didn’t, but I missed my November cocktail hour. I was much too depressed after our election on November 8. I could barely bring myself to get out of bed, much less write anything. More about that later.
Before the election, and even after (it seems from now on I’ll see the world as BEFORE and AFTER that doomed day), Mike and I went out for numerous happy hours. I like to break up the monotony of the work week with a happy hour on Wednesdays or Thursdays. I’m not always successful at convincing him to do this, but when we do, we’re always glad to have made the effort.
We went out for a wonderful dinner at an Italian restaurant, Zeffirelli in Herndon, for our 28th anniversary. As you know from other posts I’ve done, we also went to West Virginia for a combination birthday/anniversary trip.
Mike at Lebanese Taverna Oct 19
Mike at Zeffirelli on our anniversary
Me at Zeffirelli
Mike at Courtside Thai Cuisine
Me at Courtside Thai
salmon in banana leaves at Courtside Thai
I’ve been to a lot of movies over the last couple of months, including: Sully, Denial, Girl on the Train, the Brazilian movie Aquarius, Moonlight, Arrival and Manchester by the Sea. I enjoyed most of them, but I lately I get impatient — movies seem too slow-moving these days. The exception in this bunch is Girl on the Train, which is a tense thriller/mystery. I enjoyed Manchester by the Sea, but it didn’t need to be 2 1/2 hours long! Mike didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as I did. Sully was fabulous as well, with just the right pacing. I also enjoyed Arrival, though space movies about aliens aren’t usually my thing.
We went to see Lillian Hellman’s play, The Little Foxes, at the Kreeger at Arena Stage Theater in downtown D.C., eating dinner beforehand at our favorite Indian restaurant, Masala Art. This was a sort of birthday celebration, as it was the Sunday (October 23) before my Tuesday birthday. The play was a good one; I’d read the play long ago, when I’d been on a Lillian Hellman kick. In it, Southern aristocrat Regina Hubbard Giddens struggles for wealth and freedom within the confines of an early 20th-century society where a father considered only sons as legal heirs.
me at Masala Art
Masala Art table decor
Mike at Masala Art
Baingan Mirch ka Salan – baby eggplant and jalapenos in peanut and sesame sauce
Adam and Sarah called me to wish me a happy birthday on the 25th, but I mysteriously didn’t hear from Alex. It turned out he was failing a class at VCU and didn’t want to admit to it, so he simply avoided me. I was hurt, as you can imagine, and when I went to celebrate my birthday with Sarah in Richmond on October 28, I didn’t see Alex at all. Sarah and I had a nice visit though, having lunch at The Daily (lettuce wraps and seared red tuna salad), dinner at Bamboo Cafe, and then a visit to the farmer’s market near her house on Saturday morning.
lunch at The Daily
Lunch at The Daily
Halloween decorations in Richmond
Food trucks at the farmer’s market
Mike and I went to West Virginia on the weekend of November 4-6. On the Monday following our weekend, I worked for the Clinton campaign doing “Get out the vote” calls. On Tuesday evening, while votes were being counted, we went to Coyote Grill, a Mexican restaurant (in protest of the “Build that Wall” slogan during the campaign). We also went to see A Man Called Ove. Mainly we were trying to distract ourselves while we waited for the votes to come in. Once we returned home, we watched in shock and bewilderment as our nation elected the most pompous, narcissistic, and hateful man imaginable. I was so shocked and upset the next day, I could barely function. It seems we now have a kakistocracy: government by the worst elements of society, government by the least qualified or unprincipled citizens. I can hardly look at my fellow Americans, at least the 62 million of them that voted for that man. Since the election, our CIA and FBI agree that Russia influenced our election in favor of Trump. Great!
On our anniversary day, Sunday, November 13, Mike suggested we go downtown to visit the National Museum of the American Indian. I know he was trying to cheer me up; he always manages to have a bright outlook even when things look bleak. We went to the museum, which would have been fascinating on any other day, but I had a hard time staying focused. By that time, it was five days after the election, but I still felt darkness enveloping me. I still do now, and with the ongoing news about our President-elect’s continuing hate-filled rallies, his political appointments, his ridiculous tweets, and his conflicts of interests, it’s hard to find much hope for our country and today’s world.
American Indian Museum
Ojibwe Birch Bark Canoe
Aymara Totora Reed Boat
Native Hawaiian canoe
Allies in War, Partners in Peace
Native American ceremony
Imarnitek (parka) made of seal gut
After leaving the museum, we walked to Union Station, passing the Capitol building. There, I could see the grandstands being erected for the inauguration on January 20. That depressed me so much that all I wanted to do was sit somewhere and have a drink. I felt the hopelessness that Thoreau described:
“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation.” – Henry David Thoreau, Civil Disobedience and Other Essays
Sadly, we were a long way from any good place to eat, so we had no choice but to walk quite a distance. Usually I don’t mind a walk, but on that day, every step seemed a burden. We plodded and plodded, block after block. Finally, we settled ourselves in Oyamel, where we had some Spanish tapas and a glass of wine. At this point, I didn’t care if I slept the rest of the day. Honestly, I didn’t care if I slept through the next four years. Let’s hope it’s only four, or that we’re not all living under a nightmare where our civil liberties are dismantled, or worse yet, we’re all dead from WWIII.
The only relief from our despair over the election is offered by our fabulous comedians, especially The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, Samantha Bee, the Alec Baldwin impersonations of Trump on Saturday Night Live, and John Oliver. Thank goodness for those who can make us laugh in the aftermath of this disaster.
I’ve been trying to pull myself out of my funk. As I swore I would, I started applying to work abroad on November 9. Sadly, I haven’t had any luck finding a job. I even had a Skype interview with the American University of Kurdistan. The two interviewers seemed suspiciously jaded about the students; they described them as lazy, entitled, and unmotivated. They said the administration wasn’t all that helpful in helping teachers get their accommodation organized or getting their visas. I tossed and turned all night thinking I’d turn them down if they offered me a job. I got a rejection letter the next morning. Oh well, I guess that wasn’t meant to be.
I’ve been figuring out how I will live here in the U.S. if I can’t get a job abroad. I have determined that I will never watch that man on television (unless in parodies or impersonations!). I will turn the channel whenever he comes on. I’ll continue to read trustworthy and FACTUAL journalism, such as The Washington Post, The Atlantic, and other high quality publications in order to stay informed. I will support progressive groups and I will speak up when I see people being mistreated.
We went to see the appropriately titled one-woman play “The Year of Magical Thinking,” with Kathleen Turner playing the role of Joan Didion, on November 19. It gave me a lot of food for thought about my personal “year of magical thinking,” as I tried during 2016 to convince myself that Americans were kinder, more open-minded and progressive than what I was seeing right before my eyes — on Facebook, on news coverage of Trump rallies, etc. Over the months leading up to the election, I deleted a bunch of people from my Facebook “friends” list (mostly acquaintances but some good friends), mostly people who went to my high school in southern Virginia and who are ultra-conservative. At this point in time, I feel like I will never return to my hometown again. Thank goodness that northern Virginia (basically the suburbs of Washington, D.C.), where I live, pushed the entire Virginia vote to Clinton, although it was by an uncomfortably close margin. I ultimately decided on November 20 to get off Facebook altogether, at least until January 1. I was getting way too upset reading all the fake news and the hate-filled rhetoric swirling around the election. I honestly haven’t missed being on it, although I do miss all my friends from abroad, and the progressives who are my friends. Staying away from social media other than Instagram, my travel inspiration, has helped my mental health considerably.
On Thanksgiving, it was hard to feel a sense of gratitude, but having family around did cheer me up somewhat. Alex and Sarah came, as well as Mike’s sister, so we had a small group. It ended up being a nice day. The next day, Sarah and I went to see Nocturnal Animals, and then went for sushi, sake and Sapporo at Yoko Japanese restaurant. Mike and Alex went for a hike in the mountains, but I wanted to have some mother/daughter time with Sarah.
I finished up my Memoir Writing class on November 14 and I was inspired to write 7 chapters. I also got a lot of positive feedback, which was encouraging. I’m considering taking another class in the spring. Having deadlines encourages me to get words on paper.
In my ongoing attempts to keep fit, I’ve been doing an old exercise video from the 1980s, The Firm, which is aerobics with weights. I do that on rainy or other bad weather days. It’s funny to watch the people in the video with their 1980s haircuts. I’ve done that video so much over the years that I have it all practically memorized and can repeat verbatim the instructor’s directions.
I gave up the Pilates class that I started in early fall. No matter how many times I try yoga or Pilates, or any other slow-moving or stationary exercise, I get bored out of my mind and am looking at the clock the whole time. Mike says I am hopelessly impatient, and he’s right. I am. I doubt I’m going to change at this point in my life. 🙂
I’ve also been continuing my 3-mile walks, varying my routes here and there. I’ve enhanced my daily walks considerably by listening to audiobooks. Since our last cocktail hour, I’ve listened to: The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, Circling the Sun by Paula McLain, The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, The German Girl by Armando Lucas Correa, Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan, and finally All the Breaking Waves by Kerry Lonsdale. Though they’ve all been good, I especially loved Circling the Sun and The Glass Castle. You can read any of my reviews on Goodreads by following the link on my sidebar.
Here are a few views from one of my walks around Lake Newport in Reston.
We’ve been watching a lot of TV series and movies on DVD or Netflix, in addition to our movie theater outings. I’d already seen Downton Abbey, but Mike hadn’t, so we’re watching that together. I love it as much the second time as I did the first! We’re also watching the first season of True Detective, which I saw in China but Mike hadn’t seen. Others we’re watching include Madam Secretary, Longmire, Stranger Things, The Night Manager, and Dicte (Danish). We finished and LOVED Rita (Danish) and Borgen (Danish); we’ve also watched Lovesick, Love, Rules of Engagement, Top of the Lake, Island at War, and Indian Summers. Ones I didn’t care much for include: Olive Kitteridge and Mildred Pierce (I hated the awful daughter!)
As for movies we’ve watched at home, the good ones include: Remembrance, The African Doctor, The Words, Night Train to Lisbon, and Besieged. The ones I didn’t care much for: Money Monster and Hunt for the Wilderpeople.
On Dec 7-8, I went to Richmond, this time to visit Alex and to see his new apartment. He moved in last August, but I hadn’t had a chance to see his new abode since he moved in. After enjoying a glass of wine in his cold apartment (he hadn’t had the gas turned on yet), Alex and I went to Blue Bee Cider, Virginia’s first urban cidery in Scott’s Addition. Sarah joined us. Then we all met Alex’s girlfriend Ariana at Tarrant’s Cafe for dinner. There, we had quite a boisterous conversation about a recent incident in Richmond that involved the restaurant Balliceaux. Apparently one of the employees wore blackface to a Halloween party hosted at the restaurant with the intention of “trying to be offensive” and people flooded the restaurant’s social media pages with angry messages. Alex had wanted to try the restaurant this evening, but Sarah refused, saying people were boycotting it. We got into a big discussion about whether the business should be boycotted over an employee’s behavior. Sarah and I felt, especially in our current political climate, that boycotting is the appropriate response. We must reject such behavior and boycotting a business that turns a blind eye is the perfect response. Alex disagreed that the business should have to suffer. Since the incident, which caused a lot of outrage in Richmond, the restaurant apologized, and the employee apologized and resigned. (You can read more about the incident here: WRIC News: Blackface costume sparks controversy and Richmond music promoter resigns after backlash for blackface Halloween costume, calls incident ‘my worst nightmare’).
All in all, we had quite a lively evening!
Alex doesn’t have a place for me to sleep, so I booked an Airbnb house in Church Hill. It was a bit of a weird experience because I thought the owner would be there and I kept looking to meet him. He did come in late in the evening; somehow I heard but didn’t see him. My “bedroom” had only a screen separating the bed from the hallway – there was no door to close – so it was a little disconcerting. Though the house and the neighborhood were really nice, I’m not so sure I would stay there again. In the morning, I took a walk around the neighborhood and took this picture looking down at an old Lucky Strike factory before my phone battery died.
Last Wednesday, December 14, Mike and I met at Tyson’s Corner for another happy hour at Earls Kitchen and Bar. We’d never been there before. You all know how much I love trying out new places. 🙂 We enjoyed some craft beers and I had mushroom soup (with sherry) and Baja Fish Tacos: two corn tortillas with crispy battered cod, jalapeno pineapple salsa, cabbage slaw and avocado crema. Mike had Pork Carnitas Tacos: two tacos filled with marinated slow cooked pork with pico de gallo, in corn tortillas. Yum!!
The open area they’ve added to the mall since I went abroad has an ice rink and a festive Christmas tree.
Christmas tree at Tyson’s Corner
Mushroom soup and fish tacos
Garlic fries and Pork tacos
I know I shouldn’t wait two months between cocktail hours because I have so much catching up to do that I talk too much. Please, do share what you’ve been up to! I’ll shut up now. I sure hope you have happier news and a better outlook than I have. 🙂
Happy holidays! Merry Christmas and happy new Year!!
I’m really hoping for a better year in 2017. I hope the best for all of you too! 🙂
Saturday, October 15: Welcome to our October happy hour! Come right in, get comfortable and I’ll mix you up a drink. It’s the perfect day to sit out on our screened-in porch. Would you care for a Moscow Mule (vodka, lime juice and ginger beer), an Appletini, a dirty martini, or a Cosmos? I’m happy to say I’m expanding my bartending capabilities. Of course there will always be the old standbys of wine and beer.
I can also offer soda or seltzer water with lime if you prefer a non-alcoholic beverage.
Please, do share what’s been going on with you. I’d love to hear about the end of your summer and your early fall. Have you been on vacation or explored new areas close to home? Have you indulged in any daydreams? Have you changed jobs or gone into retirement? Have you seen any good movies or read any page-turners? Have you tried out any new restaurants or cooked anything wonderful at home? How’s your garden? Have you had any special family gatherings?
Admittedly, I’ve been imbibing on whatever alcoholic drink I can find to drown out the sorrows and frustrations of this election season. I’ve been spending way too much time reading everything that comes along in the news and on Facebook about the election, including keeping tabs on the various polls. I have been trying to post only intelligent political articles on my Facebook page, without sinking to the level of the trolls and haters. All my Facebook friends are perfectly clear on who my candidate of choice is and ISN’T. As I don’t care to infect my blog with U.S. politics, I will not discuss my preferences here, other than to say I’ve been evaluating my friendships in light of all that I’m seeing and hearing. In addition, though I’ve never been much of a political person, for the first time in my life I’ve actually donated money and volunteered to work the phone bank during a political campaign. Anyone who knows me knows that I absolutely despise making cold calls of any kind, so this is a big step for me, and one of which I’m quite proud. I cannot stand by idly and not participate when so much is at stake.
I’m not going to discuss the campaign any more except for some comments I’ll make toward the end of this post regarding friendships. Enough said.
I totally missed posting a September cocktail hour because in the middle of September I organized a big party/family reunion for my dad’s 86th birthday. The only person who didn’t show up was my youngest son, Adam, who is trying to settle in and carve a life out for himself in Maui.
Soon after we returned from Iceland at the end of August, we went with my sister-in-law, my son Alex and his girlfriend Ariana to Cirque de Soleil at Tyson’s Corner. It was a spectacular show titled Kurios: Cabinet of Curiosities, with fantastic costumes, acrobatics and amazing feats. What a way to immerse ourselves back home after our fabulous trip abroad.
It was hard to return from Iceland’s cool and sometimes frigid weather to the heat and humidity in Virginia. I always prefer cold weather to hot, so I was glad for the escape. But. Maybe it was the sudden change from sweltering to cold and then back to hot that caused Mike and I to both get sick on the trip, that and the tendency to go, go, go while on vacation. When we returned home, Mike got better while I got worse. I was diagnosed with walking pneumonia and I suffered through three weeks of pure misery. When I felt slightly better, I walked my daily three miles in the heat, sweated profusely, then got chilled; after these attempts at my normal routine, I was wiped out for days. I repeated this several times, thinking I was better, but then was knocked back down. Finally, I surrendered to the illness, rested a lot, drank fluids and pampered myself. Finally, by mid-September, I was fine again. What misery that was!
On September 4, Mike and I want to the Virginia Scottish Games and Festival at Great Meadow in The Plains, Virginia. Mike was particularly interested in watching the Border Collie sheep herding, but it turned out there was only one Border Collie and he was herding goats. Apparently this Border Collie costs $7,000! He was very keen to round-up the goats when his owner gave the signal. We watched a parade, ate haggis (which I’d never had) and Scotch eggs, and checked out the shiny British cars.
Border Collie goat herding
Border Collie goat herding
Border Collie goat herding
Border Collie goat herding
Border Collie goat herding
We stopped at the Living History exhibit, where a man taught us a bit about Scottish history.
The week before the Scottish Festival, we had a faux painter paint our dining room (from a deep red to a Sherwin Williams Whitetail and Intricate Ivory using a troweling process); the week after, she did our foyer (using a stippling process with a Sherwin Williams Cooled Blue, Rivulet , and Thermal Spring glaze mixture). I am pleased with the results in both areas. 🙂
It’s been a long year of renovations, painting, landscaping, and KonMari-ing, and our house feels like new now. We’re exhausted by the whole process and are now ready to relax for a good long while. We still have to renovate our upstairs bathrooms, but I won’t be ready to dive into that project for a long time.
Here’s our stippled foyer. The three paintings to the right were ones I picked up at the Longji Rice Terraces in China and had framed.
I planned a big family reunion for my dad’s 86th birthday on the weekend of September 17. My sister from California and my brother from New Jersey came, as well as my sister and her whole family from Maryland. Sarah came for part of the time and Alex and his girlfriend were also here. Adam was the only one missing, sadly. We shared a lot of food and drinks and infectious laughs, especially playing Apples-to-Apples and a rip-roaring game of Charades. My siblings and I have always been game players, so it was great fun for all of us to be together and let loose with some crazy competitions.
Sadly, I am unable to post pictures of our whole family together as my sister from California does not want her picture posted, and she of course was in many of them. 😦
Shirley & Dad
Seth, Ariana, Alex, Kelsey and Dave
Seth, Ariana, Alex, Kelsey and Dave
Seth, Ariana, Alex, Kelsey and Dave
Seth, Dave and Kelsey
Alex, Ariana, me and Mike
Alex, Ariana, me and Mike
On September 24, I went to Richmond to attend a day-long farm tour with my daughter. Sarah wrote a great blog about it: Where Farmers Grow. I hope you’ll check it out. She’s a fantastic writer. 🙂
We started our tour at Victory Farms.
I didn’t know okra plants had such pretty flowers.
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
okra at Victory Farms
Okra at Victory Farms
After touring three other gardens, we ended up back at Victory Farms, where we enjoyed a feast of small plates prepared by Richmond chefs.
Sarah’s friend Colin, marketing director of Ellwood Thompson’s, a locally-owned and independently operated natural food market, got us the tickets for this event.
Shalom Farms, our next stop on the tour, partners with community organizations and existing nutrition programs to meet the needs of families and children. Among others, their partners include after-school programs, food banks, and community kitchens. In 2015 over 200,000 servings of Shalom Farms produce was distributed through local partnerships to meet the growing needs of nutrition programs in the greater Richmond area.
We both found the work at this farm inspirational.
Shalom, a 6-acre sustainable farm at Westview on the James in Goochland, Virginia, is an agricultural learning lab for visitors and volunteers of all backgrounds. In 2014, over 4,400 volunteers and visitors gained hands-on education and experience, helping the grow over 250,000 servings of fresh produce, according to their website.
Lickinghole Creek Craft Brewery , our third stop, supplies its brewery operations with on-site hop, barley, rosemary, hay and pumpkin farming. We were able to enjoy a beer here and listen to some good classic rock-n-roll.
Lickinghole Creek Craft Brewery
Lickinghole Creek Craft Brewery
Lickinghole Creek Craft Brewery
Lickinghole Creek Craft Brewery
Lickinghole Creek Craft Brewery
Lickinghole Creek Craft Brewery
Lickinghole Creek Craft Brewery
Lickinghole Creek Craft Brewery
Lickinghole Creek Craft Brewery
Tricycle Gardens is an urban garden whose mission is to grow healthy food, healthy communities and a healthy local food system. Their aim is to restore urban ecologies and create beautiful public spaces throughout Richmond, Virginia.
I made the mistake of standing in line at the porta-potty near the compost bins, where I was devoured by blood-sucking mosquitoes. I must have been bitten at least 20 times, and it made the rest of my time at this garden miserable!
Tricycle Gardens compost bins
Tricycle Gardens compost bins
On September 30, Mike and I went into D.C., which we don’t do often, to China Chilcano for dinner, followed by a play at the Woolly Mammoth.
At China Chilcano, known for its union of Peruvian Criollo, Chinese Chifa and Japanese Nikkei, we sampled some Dorado Dim Sum (pork, shrimp, jicama, shiitake mushroom, peanut topped with golden egg), Bok Choy as Sillao (Baby bok choy, shiitake mushroom, oyster sauce), and Chupe de Cameron (Pacific wild shrimp soup with fresh cheese, choclo, rice, potato, poached egg). For dessert we enjoyed Suspiro Limeña (Sweetened condensed milk custard topped with soft and crunchy meringue, passion fruit).
Dorado Dim Sum
At the Woolly Mammoth, we saw another avant-garde play: Collective Rage: A Play in Five Boops. Woolly Mammoth is always on the cutting edge with their performances, and this one is no different. In Jen Silverman’s absurdist romantic comedy, five different women named Betty collide at the intersection of anger, sex, and the “thea-tah,” according to the playbill. I enjoy it, but am always a little taken aback by the radical ideas in these plays.
Before the play, we sat and enjoyed a glass of wine, which was included in the price of our theater ticket. Mike was awfully blue and I awfully pink. 🙂
Blue Mike at Wooly Mammoth
pink me at Wooly Mammoth
We haven’t done much else these two months other than taking our trip to Iceland and recovering from said trip. I have watched a number of good movies, notably Hell or High Water, in which a divorced father (Chris Pine) and his ex-con older brother (Toby Howard) resort to a desperate scheme in order to save their family’s ranch in West Texas. I enjoyed this movie and felt some satisfaction at the brothers’ attempts to get back at the bank that tried to cheat their family out of its inheritance.
I also enjoyed the atmospheric The Light Between Oceans, in which a lighthouse keeper and his wife living off the coast of Western Australia raise a baby they rescue from an adrift rowboat. I went to see this with my sister from California as she stayed an extra two days after the rest of the family left the reunion. After the movie, we enjoyed sushi and Sapporo and hot sake with Mike at Arigato.
One day last week, I went to see The Queen of Katwe, in which a Ugandan girl’s poverty-stricken life becomes more promising after she is introduced to the game of chess, for which she has great aptitude. I love this movie, as I always love movies that take place in foreign and exotic locales and feature an underdog rising up to meet success.
I’ve now added another exercise to my walks, a Tuesday-Thursday Pilates class. I’ve never done Pilates, but I’ve done Yoga. Both of them I find excruciatingly boring. But I’ve decided I like Pilates better and I think I’m getting stronger as a result of it.
In addition to Pilates, I’m taking a Memoir class at the Reston Community Center on Monday mornings. The class is for 55+ people — that includes me! I’m finally beginning to write a memoir; I’ve dreamed of doing this for a long time; because of the weekly deadlines, I now have four chapters under my belt. I’m getting positive feedback on it too, which encourages me to go on. Because of this class, I’m reading Writing Life Stories by Bill Roorbach. I’ve always been told that if you want to write in a certain genre, you should read a lot in that genre, so in that vein, I read and enjoyed immensely Pat Conroy’s The Death of Santini: The Story of a Father and His Son.
Of all the books I’ve read, I think I enjoyed The Disappeared the most. Here’s the review I wrote about it on Goodreads: This book tells the poignant and tragic story of a young Cambodian man who was forced to leave his country during the Khmer Rouge reign and genocide, and who, while in exile in Montreal, meets and falls in love with a 16-year-old Canadian girl. Their love is beautifully and poetically rendered, and is physical and spiritual at the same time. The story is written in 2nd person, an unusual point of view. When the borders of Cambodia open again, Serey, the Cambodian student and musician, feels compelled to return to his country to search for his family. It is over a decade before his lover, Anne Greves, is able to travel to Cambodia in search of him, and when she finds him, they live together with the dark cloud of the country’s genocide hanging over them and reverberating through their lives. Serey is secretive about his days and when Anne comes to find out he is working for the opposition, she rebels against his secrecy and fears for his life. Beautifully rendered, this book reminds us of sweeping tragedies in countries where peasants or the disenfranchised take up arms and kill off intellectuals and musicians and teachers. Like China’s Cultural Revolution, and like the Nazi extermination of the Jews, it is a dark and grim reminder of the horrible things human beings do to each other when embraced with hatred and fear.
I guess this book struck home with me because of the political atmosphere in our country during this 2016 election.
In regards to that, I’ve been looking closely at and evaluating my friendships. I read a great article posted by my favorite philosopher, Alain de Botton, on Facebook, from The Book of Life: What is the Purpose of Friendship?
The article starts with: “Friendship should be one of the high points of existence, and yet it’s also the most routinely disappointing reality.” And then it goes on to say that relationships have a purpose which are boiled down to the following: networking, reassurance, fun, clarifying our minds, and holding on to the past. I know I can look at most of my friendships and say they have one of these purposes. They say friends come into our lives for a reason, or a season.
I truly wonder if we can hold on to friends forever. Maybe I lived in a fantasy world, but I used to believe I could. Sometimes I still like to believe it is possible. But how can I really be friends with people who don’t share my basic values of inclusiveness and love for all of mankind; how can I be friends with people who harshly judge and even condemn those who are a different race, religion, or sex than us? How can I be friends with those who condone ugliness and hatred?
I’m beginning to think that I agree with the final paragraph in this article: “We should dare to be a little ruthless. Culling acquaintances isn’t a sign that we have lost belief in friendship. It’s evidence that we are getting clearer and more demanding about what a friendship could be.” That’s where I am now.
It’s been the nastiest time I’ve ever lived through in the history of my country.
So, on that note, I leave you to go forward into this great month of November, when the election will be upon us, and to make decisions with good conscience. What we decide in November will be of grave consequence to the future of our country.
Saturday, January 23: Beginning at about 1:00 pm on Friday, the blizzard of 2016, dubbed “Snowmaggedon” and “Storm Jonas” by the TV stations and newspapers, began its assault. Also known as “Snowzilla,” the storm dumped a record amount of snow on the mid-Atlantic region and the East Coast of the USA. The storm was a media sensation. You can read about it here, if you haven’t already heard about it through a million other sources:
The snow fell all Friday afternoon and through the night, and this is what we woke up to on Saturday morning when we opened the garage door.
The snow continued to fall throughout Saturday, but we still spent over an hour shoveling our driveway. The snow continued to accumulate over the parts we shoveled, but I would have hated to see what it would have looked like on Sunday morning if we hadn’t done this initial shoveling.
the Toyota Sienna
me knee-deep in the snow in our driveway
our house in the blizzard
the road in our neighborhood
the road in the opposite direction
a snowy walk though the neighborhood
I worked hard on shoveling a narrow path between the Toyota RAV and our bushes, while Mike shoveled the other side.
There was no chance of actually going anywhere in our cars, as the snow was almost two feet deep on the roads. We didn’t see a plow all day Saturday, although we had seen one go by on Friday night.
After our shoveling session, we took a walk out the neighborhood to the main road, Vale Road, only one lane of which had been plowed. A few trucks and SUVs were creeping along Vale Road, but most people stayed hunkered down in their warm homes. I was thankful we didn’t lose power, as widespread power outages were predicted throughout the region.
Since we were going to be stuck inside for at least several days, I decided it was time to start tackling our major decluttering project, following the guidelines in Marie Kondo’s the life-changing magic of tidying up, aka The KonMari method.
The author advises to work by category, not by the location of clutter in your house. She outlines a specific order to the categories, beginning with clothing, followed by “books, papers, komono (miscellany), and finally things with sentimental value.” Her first two categories, clothing and books, are the biggest categories of clutter in my house. People who know me know I have a big weakness for both of these things: any kind of textiles and all kinds of books.
Her method involves touching every item in your house and only keeping those that “spark joy.” This is very subjective, but I know exactly what she means. I had gone through all my clothes when I returned home from China, tried many of them on and got rid of some things, but not nearly enough. I was looking at them with my brand of selection criteria: are they still in style, do they fit now, are they likely to fit in the future, are they worn out and looking tired, will they come back into style in the future?
I started tackling the project with the question: “Does this spark joy?” I am amazed at how much I have been able to part with. I started with tops (Kondo’s first category of clothing), and it took me three days! Mike has been doing the same, although he doesn’t have nearly as much as I do. Just from the category of tops alone, I had 6 large garbage bags. Don’t worry, I won’t be throwing these away. I usually give all my belongings to one of the local charities like Purple Heart, AmVets or Big Brother Big Sister.
In the evening, I took a picture of our deck, which is very decrepit and about to collapse under normal conditions. We’re going to be replacing this with a screened-in porch and a new deck in our upcoming renovation. I hope it doesn’t fall under the weight of the snow!
Sunday, January 24: By Sunday morning, the snow had stopped falling and the skies were blue. We had to shovel again to get rid of the extra snow that had fallen all Saturday afternoon and evening. It took us over an hour.
I read somewhere that most people who died in this snowstorm died from shoveling snow.
When all was said and done, the blizzard left us with 24 inches of snow.
We cleared most of the driveway, but the roads were not plowed enough to get out, so we were stuck for another day.
As we were shoveling, we saw our neighbors congregating at the end of their driveway and we went to check it out. They had a little bar set up on a snow bank and were drinking bourbon and Scotch. We went to join them for a drink. This is one of the few times I’ve started drinking before noon! 🙂
After our drinks, Mike and I took a brief walk through the neighborhood, but it was difficult walking through the deep snow on the roads.
Monday, January 25: This morning I woke up to a beautiful sunset. One lane of our neighborhood had been plowed overnight, and Mike decided to venture out to work for a half-day. All the area schools were closed and so were the government offices, so he didn’t have to contend with much traffic. It was lucky that not many folks were on the roads that were narrower versions of their normal selves. Piles of snow banks on either sides of the road created a dilemma for the Virginia Department of Transportation: there was nowhere to put all the snow!
Today, I was finally able to move on from the “tops” category in my KonMari method of decluttering. I began work on bottoms, including jeans, hiking pants, exercise pants, work pants, and skirts. This occupied me today and Tuesday! I ended up with four garbage bags of bottoms! This was probably my easiest category because I had been holding on to so many pairs of pants and skirts that will NEVER fit me again. I had been holding out hope that I would lose weight enough to wear them, but I finally accepted the fact I will never be that thin again. I realized when touching all of these bottoms that they certainly did not spark joy. In fact, they always stressed me out because when I saw them, they made me wish for younger and skinnier days. GONE!
I didn’t have to shovel my driveway today, but I put on my snow boots and took a two-mile walk in the neighborhood. It was slow going and I slipped and fell once on an icy patch. When I returned home, one of my neighbors, who is a nurse at Fairfax Hospital, had returned home after staying at the hospital for the storm’s duration, and found she had nowhere to park her car. She was outside shoveling her long driveway by herself. I spent about 45 minutes helping her to carve out a spot for her car; another neighbor joined and helped too.
walk in the neighborhood
Difficult Run stream bed
walking and walking
piles of snow
Saturday, January 30: Wednesday and Thursday, I was able to walk 3 miles as the snow remaining on the roads had melted enough that the pavement was showing. There was still too much snow on the paths to walk through the woods. I moved on Wednesday to decluttering suits and coats and jackets, and on Thursday to dresses. By Thursday, I finally drove out in my car to run a couple of errands. On Friday, I was able to drive out to my contractor’s office, Northwood Construction, to work with him on our plans for our big renovation. He had presented some plans to us on Wednesday evening before the storm, January 20, and we wanted some changes to be made. I spent about 2 hours going over some ideas with him in his office.
Last night, Friday, I drove to Tyson’s Corner and met Mike at Seasons 52. It felt so good to get out for happy hour and dinner. It seemed everyone in the world was out at the cluster of restaurants at that end of the mall — all the snowbound people finally released into the world!
Wednesday, November 27: Because I’ve been living abroad for the last three years, I’ve been absent from Thanksgiving since 2009. This Thanksgiving, we try to cobble together as many of our clan as we can for the holiday.
I start by heading south on I-95 early Wednesday morning, along with the 1 million people estimated to be leaving the Washington metropolitan area for the holiday, to pick up my daughter Sarah in Richmond. What is normally a less than 2 hour drive is nearly three hours because of the mass exodus. After dropping Sarah’s dog Bagel at home, we go out for some pre-Thanksgiving shopping at Tyson’s Corner Center for her Christmas presents. There is no way I will shop on Black Friday, and we won’t see her for the Christmas holiday, so it has to be today or never.
Before shopping we enjoy some conveyor belt sushi at Wasabi Modern Japanese Cuisine at the mall.
Thursday, November 28: On Thursday morning, after preparing broccoli salad and kale and sun-dried tomato hummus spread, we pile in the car to drive to my sister Joan’s house in Salisbury, Maryland.
Today, we celebrate with most of my sister’s family and most of my family, along with my father and stepmother. My brother, who is now working in retail because of his job loss during the economic downturn, has to work so is unable to come. With the new Black Friday scenario, which involves stores opening on Thursday evening, he cannot make it to Maryland for the day. This whole Black Friday scenario, which is now insidiously creeping into Thursday, infuriates me beyond words. I don’t want to ruin my Thanksgiving by thinking, or writing (aka ranting), about it.
My son Adam is in California, just having finished his Permaculture Certification; he is spending the holidays with a fellow permaculturist and his family before he heads to Taos, New Mexico for a two-week Earthship Internship program beginning December 2 and ending on the 13th (Earthship). When we speak with him, he says he’s really sad to be away for the holiday and really misses us, BUT if he were here with us, he wouldn’t be able to be in California. After all, no one can be in two places at once. I fear we are losing him to California, where his deep beliefs about the values of holistic coaching, permaculture, and radically sustainable housing are not as far-fetched as they seem to be on the East Coast.
My other sister, Stephanie, who lives outside of Los Angeles, never makes it home for the holidays because she doesn’t care to fly. I’m sad to not see her, but we all talk by phone and I will see her on January 2, when I go to California for 10 days. I look forward to that, as I’ve been promising for years to visit her and have never kept my promises. 😦
Finally, my niece, Kelsey, who just got married this past summer, spends the holiday with her new husband’s family, one of those things that happens once one gets married.
Despite the missing family, we have a wonderful holiday feast with Joan, Steve and my nephew Seth; my dad and his wife Shirley; Mike, me, Sarah and Alex; and Lily, Joan’s golden lab. I am thankful for the laughs that are always a part of my family’s gatherings, for the wonderful feast my sister prepares, for the changing seasons, for the cold brisk November air, for my sister’s amazing hospitality and her warm, welcoming home. Last but not least, I’m thankful for the traditional dishes of Thanksgiving: turkey, gravy, oyster stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole, and the “slightly chilled red wine” that is my brother-in-law’s forte. I have missed these foods in my years abroad.
I’m thankful that I have 5 days off from teaching, and when I return to work on Monday, I only have two weeks remaining in the semester. I’m thankful for nearly completing my 5-week Travel Writing course through the Australian Writer’s Centre (which I will finish on Saturday), and for the 8 chapters of my novel I did manage to revise during the November NaNoWriMo challenge. Sadly, I didn’t finish the novel, but I will try to complete it in December, when I don’t have my teaching obligations.
Most of all, I’m thankful to be back home in America with my family.
Saturday, August 24: This week’s WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge is inspired by Matthew George’s post on focus, in which he introduced us to the basics of depth of field and aperture. He explained what an image with a shallow depth of field looks like (or conversely, a photo with a greater depth of field), and how the aperture setting on your camera affects it.
Cheri Lucas Rowlands of WordPress writes: For this challenge, get out there and take a picture demonstrating the concept of focus. Depending on your skill level or type of camera, tinker with the manual settings, use the auto focus feature, or play around with an app. Some ideas:
Snap a photo of something or someone in focus, against a blurred background.
Share a panorama or landscape in sharp focus, in which you can see details far away.
Use a camera app to force focus (or blur) in an experimental way.
Take multiple photos of the same scene or subject using different aperture settings and publishing the results.
IN A NEW POST CREATED SPECIFICALLY FOR THIS CHALLENGE, SHARE A PHOTO DEMONSTRATING THE CONCEPT OF FOCUS.
I worked on this today, specifically following the instructions to change my aperture settings, using the smaller number f-stop to get a shallow depth of field and a larger numbered f-stop to get a greater depth of field. I’m not sure my experiments worked very well, especially because when I used the higher f-stop number, I just got a lot of blur all around. Here’s an example of one I thought worked well.
I’m excited that WordPress is doing this Photography 101 series and then pushing us in the photography challenges to use what we learn. This is the first time I’ve gotten off my lazy butt and opened my camera manual and tried to use the manual settings!
Here are Matthew George’s instructions:
For a more shallow depth of field, use a bigger opening/aperture, which is a lower-numbered f-stop.
If you want a greater depth of field, use a smaller opening/aperture, which is a higher-numbered f-stop.
I liked this one too, although I wasn’t sure how this worked as some of the fungi on the foreground of the tree are blurred; the middle ground seems in focus and the distance is blurred.
And yet another photo of fungi. I know, exciting, right?
I took these shots of my son with a f-stop of 3.5, but I don’t understand why the background isn’t more blurred.
Here are a few successful shots (I think!) from my archives. These, however, were done with pure luck, and automatic settings. With much chagrin, I have to admit today is the first day I experimented with adjusting aperture manually.
Finally, in one weird moment today I tried an f-stop of 22 and here’s what I got. I took this in my living room and the focus was supposed to be the pot. Now, that’s just wrong!
Saturday, August 24: Today, I go with Mike, Alex & Bailey on a short 3 mile walk through Scott’s Run Nature Preserve along the Potomac River. This park wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for citizen protesters in the late 1960s and early 1970s who fought against development of the area.
We walk through mature hardwood forests of large oak and beech trees, among ancient hemlock and wild cherry trees. We toss sticks into the Potomac River for Bailey; we clamber up cliffs and across creeks. We lose Alex for a while and when Mike makes a strange bird call, Alex answers back from the depths of the forest. We add stones to a large cairn in the middle of the creek and find leaves rippling under flowing water. Alex does hand stands and leg lifts. I find fungi on fallen tree trunks and photograph the strange colors and shapes from every angle. We discover initials carved into a large tree that tell of those who have gone before us.
It’s hot today, but I can feel fall is around the corner. I can’t wait.
Scott’s Run is the main creek that runs through the park. It winds to its journey’s end where it spills over a small yet lovely waterfall before entering the Potomac River
Scott’s Run was once a battlefield between developers and environmentalists. Mike remembers going with high school friends in 1970 to a Fairfax County Board Meeting where opposing sides presented arguments for and against the formation of a park. It turned into a major battle. According to the website for Fairfax County, Virginia: Scott’s Run Nature Preserve:
In the 1960s, there were 336 wooded acres along the Georgetown Pike known as the Burling Tract. The land had belonged to an attorney named Edward Burling, Sr., who had a secluded cabin at the site. A developer bought the land after Burling’s death in 1966 and proposed 309 cluster homes for the area that would have left about half of the site as preserved, open land.
Neighbors saw small rezoning signs in the woods, and the clash of philosophies was under way. A citizen movement to stop the development arose, and the conflict of ideas that followed over the next year eventually enveloped county residents, the governor of Virginia and local elected officials, four U. S. senators, conservation and park agencies, the federal government, the New York Times, a national conservation organization, developers, protesting high school students and door-to-door petitioners.
Eventually a local public referenda passed as voters decided to tax themselves one and a-half million dollars to buy the land, although negotiations over the price continued. Eventually the U.S. Department of the Interior provided $3.6 million dollars to buy the land, which today belongs to the Fairfax County Park Authority.