Rain Against My Window

It’s been a while.   Let’s catch us all up on what’s going on……<cue crickets>

Yeah, not much.

But here goes….Chef and I took a little trip Off Cape which was good.   We went to a big box center in Wareham, Mass.   It was like emerging into another world in a lot of ways.  Huge, expansive parking lot.   Several clusters of 1st and 2nd generation Big Box Retailers.  A few shuttered, vast, empty businesses.   And miles and miles of things to purchase and consume.   Depressing.  It certainly was fodder for my budding anti-consumerist thoughts (which, coincidentally, go hand-in-hand with my growing poverty).   I picked up a few things at Target and some discount booze, but otherwise I was non-plused.   Back On Cape, we stopped in Hyannis at Trader Joe’s, another place I’ve never really understood.  Chef stocked up.   Me, not so much.   A nasty lunch at Sam Diego’s (“Beunos Nacho’s, Y’all!”) provided comic relief.  The conversation and  music were good and the diversion was welcomed.   But, I was glad to get back to Ptown.

Two clients of mine from last summer got married the following Saturday.   The wedding combined with a couple of dinner parties made for a socially busy weekend.   The wedding was at the Red Inn, always a lovely spot.   I only wish the food were better and they’d have a total hit on their hands.   But I think the location is tops on the Cape, bar none.   The grooms were so kind and hospitable and I was thrilled to be included (they had proposed at the 40th birthday party I catered).   Super fun times were had later at the A-House.

Thanksgiving Week brought me to 3 Dyer to house and pet sit.   It’s been nice to be in this lovely place for 10 days.   The dogs are pretty good and the cat basically takes care of himself.   Chef cooked Turkey on Thursday and 4 of us had a mellow evening.   The bird was beautiful, the parsnip/apple soup devine.   Friends from Boston came out Saturday and stayed at 3 Dyer.   These two women are just amazing….talented, smart, funny, Southern.  What’s not to like?   We cooked and talked and drank and sang and listened to music.  It was lovely as are they.    An ad hoc brunch followed Sunday with more women and me….

So there’s the low down on what I’ve been doing.  But it’s quiet here.  I have far too much time on my hands to think about my situation over and over.  The more I think about what’s to be done and what I want to do, the uglier the picture I paint for myself.   I was up at 4 today, tossing, turning, worrying.  This protracted period of “down time” has got to come to an end.   I’m no fan of inertia, that’s for sure.

I’m going to look at the opportunities in my hand and in my head and be positive.   I’m going to make the most of my trip to Atlanta.  I’m not going to worry about next Season or if there will be a next Season.  I’m going home with open eyes and will be present for whatever.   I’m going to continue to attempt to create my own destiny, whether it be here or there.   I’m going to temper patience with anxiety and hope for a healthy mix.  I’m kicking this passivity to the curb.   This is my time.   I know not where this will take me, but let’s go!

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

….cliche’ I know, but it fits.

Anyway, it’s been a month since Devon’s closed and I’ve not been working.   I’m doing OK with the glacial pace with which my life is progressing.   There are many good things (concentration, reading, cooking, exercise, reading, naps, thinking) going on every day and many not so good things as well (concentration, worrying, boredom, thinking).   All in all, I’m managing.   I had two really good conversations lately – one with Matt and one with my Dad – that have helped me enjoy and benefit from the down time.   I’m thankful for the perspective.

Here’s a picture of my digs.   It certainly helps to have a cozy place, a great roommate and a friendly cat (!!) around:

I’m anxious to get down South and I’m ready to pounce on the restaurant should an opportunity present itself.  It’s time to create success on my terms, not anyone else’s.

Let’s rock, y’all!

The Politics of Dancing

I made a somewhat drunken Facebook post last night urging Mitt (“Mittens”) Romney to hurry up and give his concession speech, calling him a sore loser.   Someone, perhaps rightly, indirectly called me out on it this morning, saying that we all needed to “turn the page” and, in effect, move on.

But I’m having a difficult time “turning the page” and moving on.   I can’t find it within myself to act like this is some sort of a game, that the words and actions I’ve seen over the past 4 years are something to just be forgotten.  No, it’s much more serious.

It’s hard for me to be a gracious winner when the losing party:

• espouses lying and deceit as the foundation for the majority of its arguments.
• refuses to acknowledge empirical evidence – impartial, scientific evidence –  that mankind is systematically warming the planet, putting our entire existence at stake.   That’s our economical, religious, moral, social, communal, sexual, existence — the whole ball of wax.  In fact, their candidate laughed at  the notion.
• swindles its followers into believing that economic breaks for the most well-off are something that will benefit the least well-off;   that everyone in this country is equipped and able to lift themselves up by their bootstraps, nevermind the ones who have no boots at all; that helping those less economically fortunate is somehow stealing from those of us lucky enough to live well; that we have an inalienable right to be rich and screw those who can’t achieve that.
• stokes the embers of racism to further its political agenda and candidates.
• denies women the right to make their own choices regarding their reproductive health.
• believes that their God, their Christian God, the one who sent his only son to  this earth to teach us to love each other as we would love ourselves, is the only viable God and all others (and their followers) are agents of Satan.
• believes that revisions to our system of health care are somehow Socialist in nature and that, once again, taking care of those who cannot provide for themselves is not a moral imperative.
• ignores what our Founding Fathers laid out in the Constitution, that this is a land of laws, of equality, of opportunity for all.
• lies to the country about the reasons to enter into war.
• would deny its own family members the same rights they enjoy.

No, I can’t be the gracious winner.  Not yet.  Not until I see the losing party practice the Judeo-Christian beliefs it promotes.   Not until I see the losing party adhere to our Constitution.  Not until I see the losing party abandon the ugly policies of hate and exclusion.

Idlewild

It’s one thing to visit for a weekend or even a week in November, December, January or  March. But it’s quite another to live here after the season ends.   I really like October:  the days are still warm, the nights cool, seasonal people are still around, there are entertainment and dining options and the town is still in its collective “Season’s Over” sigh.

But come the day after Halloween, this place clears out and begins its shutdown.   For me, it’s all new.   I left last year on November 2nd and headed back to Atlanta to start new things.   Although it’s only the 5th, there aren’t so many new things to be starting or immediate trips South to get ready for.  Nope, I’m in a quasi-dormant mode.

And I’ve Got To Get Used To It.

So far, I’d give myself a B minus.  I got settled in to the Cottage, it’s lovely and snug and things are nice.  I started Yoga class just before Halloween and that’s something  I’m enjoying.   There’s lots of thinking about what comes next….serious soul searching and strategizing and mental planning.  I’ve been riding and going to the gym with some regularity.  Clamming season opened Sunday.   We’re going tomorrow early to hang “Get Out and Vote” hangars on registered voters’ doors.   There’s a wedding of friends in two weeks.   An off-Cape trip is planned for the weekend.

And then there’s the other half of the day….I’m relearning to concentrate enough to read a long magazine article.   I’ll finish a book soon.   I’m thinking of things to write and cook.   I’m taking time to have real conversations with the one or two people I meet on the street.   Slow is good, I guess.   As I told a friend the other day, I’m going to enjoy this month and make the most of it.   Let’s see what I can learn.

Move Out

So today I move out of the tiny studio I’ve affectionately called The Sail Locker for the past two summers.   The stated plan is to stay in PTown until just prior to Christmas, wrap up a business plan then head South for a few weeks.  Lack of funds and lack of activity may speed that process up.  We shall see.

I am, however, excited about my temporary new digs.   I’m sharing a sweet little cottage in the center of town with my friend Julia.  She’s Chef II for those of you keeping track.  As most things go here, we kinda lucked into this place;  it belongs to her landlord and he needs to do work to her place so we’re all shifting abodes.   It will be nice have people around as opposed to living down here on the Far East End (which is quite deserted this time of year).

The Sail Locker has a been a special place for me.   It’s helped me on to Round 2 of my life.  It’s provided shelter and sustenance.   There’s been great sex within these walls.  I’ve made food for others and myself in its teeny, tiny “Barbie Junior Size” kitchenette.  It’s hosted friends and family.  I’ve cried, laughed, cursed, worried and slept here.   I’ve made friends with my immediate neighbors and met some amazing people on the block.  I love my landlord.  It’s been home.   And I shall miss it.

Sandy Baby

Poor Mooring Line Skills….viewed from The Lobster Pot

For several days last week, the media gave its full, glaring attention a storm brewing in the Caribbean, what would become Hurricane Sandy, a monster storm that just very well may be the most damaging storm ever to hit the U.S.  When it became apparent that this storm would merge with a sweeping low pressure system pushing its way across the Country, people began to take notice.   Long story short, the storm lived up to its hype and moved ashore early this week just south of New York City.  The initial damage estimates are well into the billions.

It’s interesting to me how seemingly surprised we are at events like this.   Surprised when we build our largest cities on the coast.  Surprised when we don’t heed the warnings of scientists and government officials who say that a warming Earth will only fuel more of these killer storms.   Surprised when we can’t use our electrically powered devices.   Surprised when things actually break down and we have to adapt.

When these things happen I wonder if our forefathers are somewhere looking down on us, shaking their heads and scoffing at what pathetic human beings we’ve become, reliant on everything but ourselves.   And unable to face up to humanity’s biggest challenges.  In some senses we’ve become petty and so small.   Al Gore warned us a decade ago about the dangers of global warming and still we ignore it.   Maybe Sandy will begin a wake-up.  I sure hope so.

Whisper to a Scream

These are those paintings of sunsets that you can’t believe are real.   Last night’s was real.

Find Your Way Back

The last year has not been an easy one.   After spending 6 months basically free of responsibility, in my very favorite place on earth, doing nothing but things for myself, returning to Atlanta – to a different Atlanta – was a bit shocking.

Summer was free and easy.   Sure there were obligations to meet:  I worked, I didn’t go in debt, I managed to lease my house to good tenants, I kept up with family and friends, I became part of an amazing community.   For the only time in my life, I made a conscious decision to do what I wanted, not what was expected of me by my family, my friends, my colleagues or my community.   It was pure freedom for me.

But all good things come to an end.   And for some stupid reason it did not occur to me that returning to Atlanta and not living in my home of 16 years, not going to my job of the same number of years, having to carve out a whole new existance in the same old place might just be odd or even difficult.   And it was!   I had a vague notion that I wanted to learn the catering business so I worked an ill-defined job.   I lived in the basement of friends, physically removed from my old neighborhood smack dab in the middle of everything.   I was removed from privacy on my terms.  I relied on my car to go everywhere.   I found it frustrating and pretty much impossible to source, from Atlanta,  a Summer 2012 kitchen space on the Cape.  My schedule was the opposite of my friends’ and my hours the opposite of my housemates’.   Money was tight.   All these things were so foreign to me and I certainly felt them.  Deeply.   Sure, I was welcomed home with big, wide, loving, open, generous arms.   My city was more beautiful than ever.   I got the opportunity to learn the restaurant business first-hand.   I saw more of several very close friends than I had in years.   All good.   All great.    But I missed the ecstatic summer months on the Cape.  I missed the sunsets at the Breakwater.  I missed a million new friends and acquaintances.   I missed walking or riding my bike as my primary form of transportation.   I missed the crazy “who cares!” attitude of Provincetown.  I missed that very close and real sense of me and who I was and the sense of purpose in what I was doing.

Somehow that got lost and it’s taken me a while to get it back.

So I made the winter work.   Catering turned to managing the inaugural dinner service at the restaurant.   Living in the basement brought me closer than ever to two dear friends.  I got myself in pretty good physical shape.   I spent some quality time with my family.   I refocused on my summer plans and was redetermined to make the second summer work in my favor.

April came, as it always does, in its splendor and glory.   There were a few clouds on the proverbial horizon, though.   I think, in hindsight, I let the burden of having to have my house leased clouded my excitement.  I still had not worked out a cooking space for my nascent catering business.  There was last minute car trouble.  Eventually, though, I leased the house to great tenants.   The car got fixed.   And I left Atlanta, on schedule, May 2.  My trip back north was uneventful, with lovely stops again in Mercersberg and Princeton.    I rolled into town on a cloudy, rainy May afternoon.   Looking back, I think those clouds may have stayed in my head.   And I think they affected my outlook and my perceptions for a good part of the summer.   They were a harbinger of more challenges, more change, more creeping self-doubt and unwarranted self-pressure.

Voices Inside My Head

Part of the reason for resurrecting this blog is to give me a creative outlet this winter.   Two things I’ve learned about myself in the last year are that, one, I need to be physically active and, two, there’s got to be a mental outlet that’s creative in a way that expresses what’s going on.   And by that I mean what’s going on inside my head as well as outside my head.   Far too often the chaos inside overtakes the reality outside and things get dark and gloomy….quickly.   So bear with me while I pine and bitch and celebrate and, most likely, post far too many pictures of pretty sunrises and sunsets.

I Want to Ride My Bicycle

I’ve set a few goals for myself now the the season is officially, finally, 100% over.   One is to get rid of the nice roll of fat that encircles my midsection.   I don’t think I’ve gained much weight, but I’m certain that things have shifted after 6 months of no cardio and no gym visits.

Last week I discovered the National Seashore trails around Clapp’s and Duck Ponds.  Clapp’s is the larger of the two and a wooded dune ridge runs along its northern edge.   It provides some challenging hills and spectacular scenery.   It’s unbelievably peaceful and I’m motivated to know it’s there.

Today I had another great ride on Gary (my bike, a Gary Fisher mountain bike).   Can’t believe I forgot about how crucial exercise is to my mental well-being.  I suspect the lack of it is part of what has been a challenging season for me.