Here and There

I was delighted by a friend's list of unrelated items. It did what good blogs do for me. It made me think "Me, too! I can do that!"

1. With the help of a wise new friend, I figured out where the time in my day is going: to people. I feel like I used to be able to accomplish more in a day than I do now (which may be inaccurate). It's not that I have less to do, necessarily, I just do less. I blame three of my life's recent additions for this: driving and traffic, an inconsistent work schedule, and living with people. Two were obvious to me, but the third was surprising. I have lived alone for a long time, so I didn't realize the time consumed by the daily minutiae of maintaining relationships.

2. A Marin native illuminated some of this county's peculiarities for me--things I'd noticed but didn't know how to name. People here are "slightly apathetic", "casually sophisticated" and "quirky" to the point of making an art of it.

3. I have become more obsessive about my paper-crafting. It's sort of a cut-and-paste self-medication driven by a hunger to share my experience and creative inspiration around every corner. In other news, I found a store near my coffee shop interesting in carrying my notebooks.

4. I am so disturbed by men over thirty who use "Booyah" and "It's go time." Even as a punchline.

5. I went to Coffee School in the City for my new job. Unfortunately, the curriculum content ran a distant second to a research paper I wrote in sixth grade, titled "Where in the World is Juan Valdez."

6. A customer in my coffee shop talked today about growing up in North Beach where real Italians make coffee for other real Italians. He overheard a customer order a drink with specifications nearing 50 words, and shook his head. "What happened to the days where a drink was a drink? Everything was a cappuccino and it was perfect. Coffee? Yes or no. Let the barista make the damn drink." His small capp was on the house.

7. I miss teaching, my classroom, and my students every day. I feel like the Autumn started without me. One of my regulars at the coffee shop is a teacher who retired after 35 years. She misses it, too. After describing my move to Marin, she smiled knowingly and said, "My dear, you are plant who has been re-potted. You've just left behind a few roots." Here's to hoping they'll regrow.