How shall I age?

The other day a friend posted about how as she ages, she wants to look more and more like Iggy Pop—“haggard, gaunt, kind of dangerous” looking. I’ve been thinking about this ever since. The only person I’ve ever wanted to look like (besides myself) is Gertrude Stein, but I don’t have the right kind of nose for it. In general, I like the look of solidly built, no-nonsense kinds of people—immigrant grandmothers in sturdy traveling clothes, Depression-era farm wives with black oxford shoes and floury hands and white aprons over homemade flower-print dresses, communists, labor organizers, etc. People who work.

When we were renting the HBO series Carnivále on DVD last year, I was mesmerized by that fat girl who danced in the cootchie dance. Her mother, too. Both characters were actually kind of hard and unpleasant, but they looked warm, welcoming, and grounded, like someone who’d love to just pick you up and give you a big comforting hug. Like someone who knows how to get down to business. Like someone you’d want to snuggle up next to in a big creaky old bed, back to back with the soles of your feet touching the soles of her feet. I love sleeping like that.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the right kind of features for that look, either. I’m not designed to be fat. So why am I so worried about losing weight? Not worried that I won’t lose weight—worried that I will. It’s bizarre. Because I do want to lose some. I want to be healthier, feel stronger, look better in and out of clothes. I just don’t want to get too thin.

Not that I’m presently in any danger of that happening. I’ve lost about nine pounds since the beginning of August, which seems about right. Not too fast, but not so slow that it seems like nothing’s happening. I’m riding around 40 miles a week most weeks. No idea if that’s a lot or a little, but it’s what I have time to do and it feels good.

And now to the farmer’s market. I’m hoping to get a huge mess of greens—collards, if anyone has them, or spinach if it looks good. Now that the exercise thing is more or less under way, I’m tackling the nutrition end of things. Everything I’ve found to read says it’s much better to get your nutrition from food than from pills, so that’s what I’m shooting for. Also, taking all these vitamins every day is starting to make me smell funny.

Five days left

It has suddenly come to my attention that summer is almost officially
over, and I haven't yet read my requisite Faulkner novel. Every summer
I read at least one. I still have a few days left, though, so if I
choose a short one, I can still make it.

So what's it going to be? As I Lay Dying? The Bear? Well, the Bear
isn't exactly a novel, is it? Or is it? Hrmm.

I think I got off schedule because it's already been feeling a lot like
fall around here for several weeks already. The light's changed, leaves
are starting to get dry, and there's that sharp yellowish plant-like
smell in the air, some kind of weed I haven't been able to identify
yet. I wore a sweater yesterday for the first time since last spring.

Tomorrow it's supposed to rain and I still haven't bought any special
rain-proof anything to wear on the bike. To make things even more
interesting, the bridge I cross twice every day—the only way to cross
this river without going a couple of miles out of my way—is going to be
closed for a few weeks while they widen the lanes. They let me ride
across it this morning even though it's already closed to car traffic.
It was the first time I've ever had the entire bridge all to myself. It
felt luxurious. I hope they'll keep a foot bridge open while they
complete the rest of the work; otherwise anyone who doesn't have a car
is going to find it a real challenge to try to get across that river,
especially if the weather starts to get cold soon.

Anyway, regarding the Faulkner Speed Reading Challenge 2005: If nothing
else, this will give me a good reason to resume sorting through the
last of my stuff that's still all packed away in mysterious unmarked
boxes in the garage. I kind of know where the Faulkner is ... but
actually, not really. I don't at this moment know exactly where
anything is, because I did not pack my own boxes this time, and I
didn't load them into the garage, either. That was very sweet of him to
get my stuff all moved for me. But it's disconcerting to not know where
things are. I usually know where everything is. Everything.

Well, if it's really going to start raining soon, it's basically now or
never. Anything that gets left out there over the winter is going to
end up so moldy smelling I might as well throw it all away right now.

Another Saturday night

Tonight I came in after my bath to find that Dog One had once again managed to overturn the kitchen garbage and strewn it halfway across the house. (I knew it wasn't my dog, because he's afraid to put his head under the sink ... plus, he'd been lying on his cushion next to me on the deck the whole time I was in the tub.) I had thought I'd gotten myself relaxed, regrounded and repacified after a stressful and unpleasant afternoon, but when I saw the garbage everywhere—including five or six rotten peaches that were black and disintegrating with mold—I lost it. I yelled and smacked him on the ass, hard, with the book I happened to be holding at the time: Living Buddha, Living Christ, by Thich Nhat Hanh.

Nice choice of items to beat a helpless old dog with, eh? Maybe some people might think I'm being too hard on myself for losing my temper for five whole seconds, especially since this is the third (possibly fourth) time he's done this, this week alone. But I feel like by this time in my life I should be better at keeping my equilibrium. After all, it's at least partially my own fault for not having secured the garbage better. Also, I'm disappointed in myself—all my highfalutin talk about patience, kindness, nonviolence, etc. flies right out the window the second anything disturbs my fragile peace of mind. (It flies back in again eventually, of course.)

I guess I'm a little on edge lately. Everything feels so apocalyptic. I find myself wanting to obsess about it, wanting to rant a bit, and then feeling unable to follow through. It seems pointless to go into any kind of detail. For one thing, as I've already said, I don't think things are any worse now than they've ever been before. For another, even if they are, there's nothing new that I could do about it now that I haven't been able to do all along anyway. The best thing I can do when I start falling into doom & gloom is to gently bring my attention back to positive thoughts of things I can actually do something about. Like getting a trash can with a dog-proof lid, for example.

Moving on ...

One positive thing that's been happening lately is that I'm getting into a comfortable routine with the bike riding. I'm riding to work every day now, and riding home two or three nights a week. The other nights I meet the boyfriend for dinner or meetings or other things, and we take the bike home in the back of the truck. All this translates into about eight 20-minute workouts per week, which I realize is not huge, but is still a big change from what I was doing before (basically, nothing).

At some point I will probably get some kind of heart rate monitor or in some other way start trying to keep track of exactly how much exercise I'm really doing—maybe a bicycle computer to track miles, or something. Although I think the heart monitor would be a more accurate gauge, since the ride downtown is easier than the ride back, even though the mileage and the time are the same.

I've started taking 1000 mg of vitamin C with my other supplements, hoping to improve my iron absorption. I'm taking 648 mg of iron every day (as per my last doctor's instructions), in addition to whatever's in the multivitamin I happen to take that day—I have a few different kinds. My diet is already pretty good, I think. My biggest challenge there is the old pasteup table at my office, which has found a new life as Snack Central, the place where everyone in the building goes to drop off all things edible. Friday, for instance, there was a bag of sesame honey cashews, apple cake with caramel sauce, lemon scones, these deep fried powdered sugar things from the Portuguese restaurant, a bag with six assorted donuts, an orange bread loaf thingie, and two pizzas. Oh, and a canister of Ghirardelli chocolate drops. This table is only about ten feet from where I sit and I have been exercising enormous self control in limiting myself to one treat per day, except on days (and there have been several of them lately) when I don't have time to go to lunch, in which case I've been known to have ... let's just say, more than one.

Back to the bike for a moment: It'll be interesting to see how my routine changes when it starts getting cold and dark and rainy. I was talking to a friend last night who's a hardcore bike activist and was surprised to hear him say, "Yeah, it does kind of suck when it storms." True, he is twenty years older than me ... but he's also in a billion times better shape I am, and much more accustomed to riding in all kinds of conditions. If it's hard for him, how will I handle it?

The thought of not having to buy another car right away inspires me to at least want to try, even if it means leaving earlier in the morning so I have time to get dried off and cleaned up before I have to start working, and taking a longer (safer) route home when it's dark. I'm surprised at how much I want to Not own a car right now; until very recently I've always considered it kind of essential. No doubt I would feel differently if I didn't even have access to a car ... but I do, and it makes me realize that that is what I really want: access to transportation, not ownership of a car. I feel blessed that for me right now, those two things do not have to be synonymous. Blessed, and also kind of proud. I've deliberately designed my life to be low impact, and this is one of the benefits. In the last seven days, I've ridden in a car two times for five minutes each, and driven once for about eight minutes. Other than that, all my travels have been by bike or on foot. That feels pretty good.

Another bummer of a post! Hooray!

Still trying to ride the wave of a new round of overwhelming emotions. Mostly feeling grumpy and tired and ... well, overwhelmed. In hopes of letting off some steam, I offer up the following digest of recent events:

At work I had to scan a photo of the first local boy killed in Iraq. It was front page news. They gave him a big military funeral and buried him in the new veterans memorial park, with more than 500 people in attendance. He was 22.

I'm getting into a bad habit of listening to the news again. It's filling my head with all sorts of awful information I can't do anything with, except feel terrible. Every night I'm having nightmares about bombs, floods, getting lost, struggling to walk through black mud, trying to talk and being unable to, losing my backpack with all my ID in it, flying over deep water looking for someone. Every morning I'm waking up confused, then realizing: that was a dream. I'm okay. I'm right here in my own bed. Then the memory washes over me of all the people who are having the same experience as I am, of waking up disoriented, and how bizarre it must be to have to remember every single morning that the horrible images burned into your brain are not just dreams. They are things that really happened, and are still happening.

About once a week or so lately I've seen cars parked at a turn in our creek that runs near the road, and people down in the creekbed filling five-gallon buckets with river rocks. Presumably they are too cheap to buy their own landscaping materials. They seem oblivious to the two flashing barricades they've parked their cars next to—the ones that are there to keep people from driving over the edge of the road, which is rapidly being eaten away by the creek, thanks at least in part to people like them who are physically removing the structural elements (i.e., rocks) that help keep the whole thing in place. If I were a braver person I would stop and talk to them, explain why they should not be taking the rocks, and ask them to put them back. But I'm afraid to put myself in the path of strangers who have already identified themselves, by their actions, as selfish jerks who care more about saving a few bucks than protecting a fragile creek environment. So instead I just ride on by, fuming.

Maybe I'll make a sign and post it there. "Please do not take rocks
from this creek. We are watching you and will report your license plate number to the police." Anonymous threats, etc. When did I become such a coward? This is not the first thing, either: a few days ago I actually made a dog complaint to the owner of the cafe I have lunch at every day. I had my sandwich and was just about to go out onto the patio to enjoy a little sunshine when I saw this lady out there who comes in all the time with her dog, who she allows to stroll up and down and all around, begging and bothering people. The last time I saw her, she kept putting her paws on my lap and even tried to steal the sandwich off my plate (the dog, not the lady). Then she went on to bug someone else, with her person chiding her constantly in a voice I'm sure she thought was adorable, "You're a very bad girl, Amber! Come back here this instant! I mean it!" while of course neglecting to actually control the dog in any way.

I'm probably one of the most dog tolerant people on the planet, but that was too much even for me. And it especially made me mad because just a month or so ago someone called the health department to complain about dogs at the pub where we have dinner every Tuesday night, and now no dogs are allowed there at all, even out on the patio. I imagined that the call was probably inspired by some similar incident ... some marauding dog whose person was just as negligent as this woman. I wanted to tell her, "It's because of inconsiderate idiots like you that I can't take my dog to the pub anymore. If you like bringing your dog here, keep her on a leash and at your own table before someone calls about this place too." But instead of approaching her directly, opening up a space for honest dialogue, and blah blah blah blah blah, I went back inside the cafe and told the owner (who's also kind of a friend), "There's a lady out there who's letting her dog wander around bugging people who are trying to eat. It's annoying as hell."

And another thing! My blood was rejected when I went to donate last week. Not enough iron. According to the numbers I'm still "profoundly anemic," even though I've been taking my supplements religiously for more than a month. So now I'm worried that maybe I have some grievous condition that makes it impossible for my body to absorb the proper nutrients, no matter what vitamins I take or how well I eat .... I made an appointment with my new doctor and am hoping to get it all figured out as soon as possible.

In other health news, I've been riding my bike for more than a month and a half now and still have not lost any weight. On the up side, I do
feel stronger and my leg muscles seem to be toning up a bit. Also, I saw Tommy Lee on television the other night, studying for a chemistry final. That was funny. Apparently he's in college now ... or something. I didn't watch long enough to get clear on whether he was going to college for real, or just for the tv show. I loved the star tattoos on his hands.

Frances

I have to say something about Frances Newton, who is about to be executed in Texas for a crime it appears she may not have committed. At the very least, it's not even disputed that her attorney was grossly incompetent—in fact, he has since been barred from representing capital cases. After spending all day listening to Roberts evade questions about what he thinks about the death penalty, it feels especially crushing that this execution is going forward. In fifteen minutes, she'll be dead.

For the record, I am against killing anyone for any reason except possibly self defense. State sponsored killings make me especially sick. I'm not religious but I do believe that life is sacred, and that the purpose of life is to learn and grow and enjoy the world and each other. Every life is precious, even the life of a person who's done terrible things. As long as a person is alive, there's always a chance that they may have a change of heart, find grace, feel love, connect with someone in a meaningful way ... Everyone deserves to have that opportunity to change. Especially people who have done terrible things.

God, the governor just said no to a stay. He said, "Do it. Kill her."

This is an example of a time when I really have to struggle to keep my heart open, because I feel so angry and violent toward the people who are killing this woman. I guess for right now I will just set all that aside and focus on Frances, sending her peace for her last few moments.

History in the making

I'm obsessively listening to the John Roberts hearings today on KPFA. Right now everyone's laughing because someone just asked him, "You're not gonna be asking for a big raise now, are ya?"

Listening to the hearings, as well as my recent experience of sitting for countless hours in City Council and Planning Commission and other public meetings until the part I'm there to support is finally introduced, has helped me understand why, aside from voting every four years, so few people really participate very much in government. It takes forever to get anything done, and most of the proceedings are boring as hell. The only reason I can spend so much time in those meetings is because I'm not raising kids, and because it's important to me to try to do something to walk my talk. Every once in awhile it actually has an effect. For example, we had a small success last week, when the Planning Commission finally—after two years of writing and rewriting—approved the Master Plan for the community garden. There's still a lot more that has to happen, but this is a big step in the right direction.

In other news, I rented a car on Saturday and drove into the city for a day on my own, the first in a very, very long time. I went to the Power to the Peaceful festival, a giant free concert and peace event with music, speeches, dancing, and lots of lefty craft & food vendors. I danced to techno music at the East end of the meadow, listened to Michael Franti and others exhorting us to be peaceful in our pursuit of justice, ate a big paper cup full of spicy garlic fries, and sat in the shade next to a gentle dreadlocked blonde boy who called me "sister" and leapt up to give me a huge hug when I stood up to head home.

One thing I'm noticing about these events lately is that there seem to be fewer and fewer of what I would call "old hippies" coming out to dance and play. When I lived in the city, at the end of the 80s, they were still everywhere. Maybe they've all moved to less expensive places to live out their old age. These days it's all rave kids and burners and androgynous skaters in watch caps and enormous pants. They actually had a half pipe at the festival this year; I don't remember seeing that before. I loved watching the skaters flying.

I have to stop now because I'm feeling self conscious about writing in a new place, even though I haven't told anyone about it yet. Hrrmm.