breathing room

Around the middle of May, I was struck by the rather surprising realization that I want marriage and a family. More accurately, I was struck by anxiety and something approaching panic when I juxtaposed that realization with my age: I’m 38, and was half-way convinced that I was already out of time.

Turns out I’ve got quite a bit more “reproductive breathing room” than I’d anticipated.

Something I like to do — some nights when I’m feeling particularly wired and am not ready for bed, even as the late night of one day slides into the early morning of the next — is research family history and genealogy. That’s how I finally pieced together my Jewish ancestry last year.

I was caught up in one of these genealogy marathon sessions three or four weeks ago and started looking more closely at the reproductive histories of my ancestors — specifically, how old these women were when marrying and giving birth, and how their children fared. What I uncovered was surprising.

I grew up hearing how my great-great-great-grandfather had had twenty-one children by two wives. His first wife had a single child before she died, and he’d remarried and had twenty children by his second wife. I was curious about the details. That second wife, my great-great-great-grandmother, had her first child at the age of 17, and her last at the not-so-tender age of 45.

45 years old! In the first half of the nineteenth century, no less. Seventeen of her twenty children survived to adulthood — two died at birth (or were stillborn), and another died in infancy. She did not die in childbirth but lived into her 60s. Her sons were the soldiers of the Civil War.

But I was more interested in her daughters. Some married early, some later, some not at all. Those who did become mothers themselves also bore children into their 30s and 40s, in the mid-1800s.

I’d no idea women at that time were giving birth so late in their lives. I’d assumed that was more of a modern trend, but apparently it was a regular practice in my family.

So I’m not so worried, not anymore. When my great-great-great-grandmother was my age, she still had another seven years of childbearing in front of her. This is the stock that I come from. If they could do it — and do it rather successfully — then so can I. If I get to be 41 or 42 and am still in the same boat as I’m in now — single, with no real prospects (I’d rather be childless than be a single parent) — then maybe I’ll give myself permission to get a little nervous.

In the meantime, I’m much more relaxed.

As a side note, I’ve only once had my “biological clock” go off. That was ten years ago. Out of nowhere, I felt suddenly driven to have a baby. It made no rational sense, but I started looking into artificial insemination — I wasn’t seeing anyone at the time — and costs of childcare. I was on the fast-track in IT, had a stable career and was making more than enough money to support a family, so I started making plans. I even told my boss about it, and he was very supportive. After about two weeks or so, however, the reproductive drive vanished into thin air. It hasn’t resurfaced since.

shabbat in the park

When it comes to shabbat services, I’m more of a Friday evening gal. I enjoy the smaller gathering, the lighting of the candles and the more meditative feel of winding down the week and welcoming sacred time and space. It’s a peaceful and relaxing way to let go of whatever has been weighing on me and to make room for reflection and some degree of serenity. It also sets the stage for spending at least part of the weekend enjoying the outdoors — which is my true temple.

I was all set to head to the shul this past Friday evening, when I discovered that the Saturday morning service was to be celebrated in a local park. Perfect timing for the summer solstice. I made a quick call to Mom — who was going to be in town anyway — and brought her along to her first Jewish service ever.

We couldn’t have asked for a better day. There was a brief sprinkle of rain in the early morning, but the clouds quickly gave way to warm sunshine. A group of picnic tables under some trees had been reserved for us, and folks trickled in — on foot, on bikes, with strollers — as we set up camping chairs and picnic blankets.

Plenty of passerby stopped to watch us as we started singing — I guess a bunch of Jews in the park isn’t something you see every day — and I slipped off my shoes and pressed my bare feet into the grass. Children laughed and played throughout the service — one of the things I love about going to temple is that the kids aren’t commanded to sit still and be quiet, as we were always instructed in chapel growing up. It’s very family-friendly, and gathering in the park only emphasized that.

It was so freeing to be outside in spiritual community — and in the company of flowers and trees — to feel the sun on my skin and breathe the clean air, rather than being inside while following the same order of service. I prefer natural surroundings to man-made ones. The earth beneath my feet and the open sky overhead create the most sacred space I know of.

We weren’t the only people celebrating in the park that morning. Two different groups of Neo-Pagans set up their own circles within sight of our gathering to mark the midsummer holiday of Litha. The rabbi commented, “Well, we’re all pagans, aren’t we?”

Talking about the service later, Mom shared how much she had enjoyed the event and the people. I’m so glad her first visit with my shul was a positive one, and am grateful for those few hours spent with my spiritual community in natural surroundings. I held this experience up to Mom as a more tangible example of the “roots and wings” I’ve been yearning for.

I’m not sure I’ll join them for next month’s “Shabbat in the Pool”…. Perhaps I’ll instead head over solo to the grove of trees not far from my home, and mark my own observance there.

It’s the beginning of another work week, and I’m already looking forward to Friday evening — when I can sit outside, light candles and take time to enjoy and appreciate the ready-made sanctuary just outside my door.

dog fight update

I wanted to give a quick update on the dog fight from a week-and-a-half ago.

My neighbor has been released from the hospital, and I went to visit him and take him some soup. He had his family with him and seemed to be in good spirits, though he’ll require some recovery time. At the time that I saw him, he still had no memory of what had happened.

I gave him an overview of the details. He was glad to hear that Lakshmi is alright. Indeed, Lakshmi is healing nicely and finished her round of antibiotics this morning. I hope to get her back to the dog park some time this week, as she’s been anxious to get out and play again.

My neighbor’s daughter let me know that his dog, who had attacked Lakshmi, had been put down. She had apparently been showing signs of increasing aggression toward family members, and this incident with my dog was the last straw. I’m sad that this was the outcome for the dog — though it would have take some very special circumstances and a lot of time and energy to try to rehabilitate her — and am sorry for my neighbor to lose another companion.

In the aftermath of this canine altercation, and under the crunch of work and some other projects and turbulence, I’ve not been as personally active online as usual. If you’ve tried contacting me lately and you’re not an editor, you probably haven’t heard back from me for a week or more — other than quick-hit e-mail exchanges, I owe replies to most of my friends and family. I did take off some time last Friday afternoon and Saturday, to get away from the computer and catch up on some reading, but then was back at work Saturday night and into Sunday.

It’s still crunch time for my writing work, but I’m starting to catch up. I think Lakshmi and I both could use some time at the dog park.

improve the world

This morning, I’ve had a particular piece of wisdom on my mind:

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.

— Anne Frank

Rather than waxing philosophical on the power of mere existence — and how every person’s every action is like that small stone thrown into the pond, the impact rippling outward to touch even the farthest shore — I thought I’d instead think up a couple of quick, simple ways to put this truth into positive, constructive action.

So, how can one person start to improve the world right here and now?

* Say, “I love you,” and mean it.
* Take a deep breath and appreciate being able to breathe.
* Be generous to other drivers merging and changing lanes in traffic.
* Offer your seat on the bus or train to someone who needs it more than you do.
* Say, “Hello” and share a smile with a stranger.
* Treat your body to a glass of clean water and a fresh piece of fruit.
* Take a five- or ten-minute break to get outside. Take a walk, touch a tree and the grass, literally stop to smell the roses.
* Wave to the children on the school bus as they go by.
* Take a box of languishing items — clothing, housewares, books, etc. — to a local charity.
* Turn off (and even unplug) household and office lights and appliances when you’re not using them.
* Pick up a piece of litter and make sure it gets to a trash bin.
* Greet neighbors and co-workers as they come and go through the day.
* Say, “Thank you” to your librarian, postal carrier, street sweeper, retail cashier, teacher — anyone — to express appreciation for his/her service.
* Think of a favorite game from childhood — whether it’s Red Light Green Light, Twister, Hide-and-Go-Seek, Crazy 8s or chess — and make a play date with your friends.
* Register to vote, if you haven’t already.

It would be easy to spend the rest of the morning coming up with more ideas, but you get the drift. I’d rather spend that same time actually making a difference.

What are you doing today to have a positive impact?

tv log and territorial spider

Yesterday, a friend announced that he and his family were giving up their paid television service and would simply rely on what they can receive via antenna — and will keep watching their favorite cable shows on BitTorrent and iTunes.

I did the same thing from 2000 to 2004, but with no TV-on-internet supplement. I’d worked for MediaOne (formerly Continental Cablevision, later AT&T Broadband, and now Comcast) 1996-1999, and like all full-time employees had gotten full cable service as part of the standard benefits package. My TV had quickly become a black hole. Living alone, I found myself too easily settling into the comfort of having the television keep me company.

I’d pull myself away from it and would deliberately keep it turned off for days at a time while I got back to living my life — what life I had, outside of my 80-hour work week, wasn’t much. At the very least, I was reading more. But it was still all too convenient to switch on the box as I was cooking or doing housework, sewing dance costumes or working out.

So when I left the company — and they finally remembered to shut off my service — I wasn’t all that sorry to see it go. I did miss access to 24-hour international news, but I’d more frequently turned to public radio for that anyway, and I had a VCR and DVD player for watching movies. I’d like to say that I was generally happier and had more breathing room in my life.

Then I moved to Oregon — where I wouldn’t have access to locally broadcast Atlantic Coast Conference games. And, the Olympics were coming that summer! I simply had to have multi-channel, 24-hour access to Olympic and other sports coverage, or so I told myself. I was the only woman I knew who chose her satellite service package based on what sports channels were offered. (Yes, last week I even watched all four hours and thirty-eight minutes of Game 5 of the NHL championships, Pittsburgh Penguins vs. Detroit Red Wings.)

But the service package comes with a lot more than just sports channels, and that’s the problem. I’ve got a whole lot of nothing being aired all day every day. I’m paying for it whether I watch it or not. I don’t watch it, of course, but it still seems like a huge waste.

A la carte service is not available because of the deals that media corporations make with the distribution companies. They’re under contractual obligation to offer blocks of channels and programming, rather than just individual networks — which means the end consumer doesn’t get to pick and choose either. But I’m wondering…. If I made a list of the programming I wanted to view on a regular basis, and calculated the costs of getting that programming via my computer rather than via a satellite/receiver, it would be interesting to see how that monthly cost would stack up against what I’m paying DISH Network every month.

So while my friend and his family are going cold turkey on paid TV service, I’ve started making a television viewing log. I just want to see what my TV habits really are, what I’m watching, and what — if anything — it’s contributing to my life.

I’ve only been keeping this log for a day, and I’m not sure I want to post the results regularly online, but here’s the log from yesterday:

Monday, 9 June 2008
1:05 p.m. - 1:26 p.m.: CNN’s The Situation Room
While eating lunch. Have there always been so many commercials on CNN? Seems to be more advertising than programming/news.

5:19 p.m. - 6:16 p.m.: Friends/Law & Order/Ocean’s Twelve
Channel surfing while making and eating dinner, and while running upstairs periodically to check e-mail.

8:57 p.m. - 9:59 p.m.: Sex & the City/ER
Post-painting in the bedroom. Just wanted some mindless entertainment to wind down the evening.

(I have a tendency to skip around between channels whenever there’s a commercial break. One reason I love my DVR service is that it allows me to skip over commercials — saving both time and annoyance.)

I’ll keep this log running for at least a week. Admittedly, knowing that I have to write down my viewing behavior will very likely act as a deterrent to too much TV viewing, but I’d still like to see where my TV time is going, and then use this to make a “real use” calculation to compare to my monthly subscription service.

And yes, the Olympics are coming, once again…. Gotta have those sports channels.

On another, somewhat curious, note: While painting the walls of the bedroom last evening, I encountered a spider that was hiding in a small crack between the wall and ceiling. Initially, it was rushing out as if to challenge the paint brush that was sweeping closer and closer to its hiding place, but it finally retreated. At first, I found this a little amusing — a spider battling against a paint brush — but I’m also concerned about having such an aggressive spider in my bedroom, even way up high.

dog fight

While out walking yesterday morning, Lakshmi was attacked by a neighbor's Rottweiler-Lab mix. I am uninjured. Lakshmi has some puncture wounds which the vet has tended to. The other dog is fine.

My neighbor, however, is in the hospital with a brain contusion. He is an older gentleman, and when his dog first lunged for mine, he was pulled to the pavement and hit his head.

I just wanted to let everyone know why I've been quiet, and may be off-line for a while. All of the stress of the day -- screaming for help; trying to wrestle the Rottie off of my dog's throat; chasing after Lakshmi when she ran off, terrified; etc. -- has left me feeling like I've been hit by a truck.

And I'm very worried about my neighbor, a dear man who has had a rather bad run of luck lately. I'm told that this has happened before -- getting knocked down by his dog -- but that it had occurred on grass and so hadn't caused injury.

If you're a praying person, I'm sure he'd appreciate the good thoughts.

osiris warms up

Osiris, my five year-old black cat, has always been a bit stand-offish.

He was easily startled as a kitten and didn’t appreciate being brought into a home with two rather curious — and large — dogs in residence. He eventually settled in, by degrees, but remained overly cautious. He’s still rather jumpy, and doesn’t like to be picked up or held.

In the last few months, however, he’s gotten a lot more snuggly than he ever was before.

As a kitten, he was very serious about heavy kneading when he was purring, and I sometimes awoke to what felt like shiatsu massage, care of this little kitten. As the weather got warmer and the blankets got lighter, these greetings weren’t nearly as welcome as his claws easily penetrated the bed linens to my skin. Still, he’d wait until I was asleep, and until the other kitten and the pups had settled down for the evening, and then would find an empty spot on the bed to curl up.

But he’s suddenly decided to stop being quite so distant.

At first, I’d thought it was the cold winter weather that was driving him to curl up next to me so quickly and so closely. He easily displaced Kenobi (the smaller cat, of the same age) at the head of the bed, nearest my face and torso, and even occasionally climbed up on the sofa with me, careful to lie down a short distance away from me, just out of reach.


Kenobi and Osiris

But now it’s June. Sure, this is Portland, so it’s still occasionally rainy and rather chilly as we move into summer, but Osiris is getting more and more snuggly even as the warmer weather makes its appearance.

As soon as I head to the bedroom — whether I’m retiring for the evening or just feel like taking a quick nap — Osiris is there. He’s on the bed as soon as I am, and curls up very close to me before my head even touches the pillow. He’s lately started jumping into my lap on the sofa — something he’d never done before — and while he won’t actually curl up on me, he snuggles right up against me.

It’s likely not the weather. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been feeling rather low these past few weeks — as I’d grieved for Nanook and then Journey recently, Osiris similarly became more attentive. This sweet and rather large kitty — the King of the Cats, the Pharaonic Feline — has been tending to me, letting me know that I’m loved, keeping me company. At least, that’s what I’d like to think he’s doing.

Or maybe he’s just finally warming up to me, and is after five years at last coming out of his shell.