Monday, August 13, 2007

Duet of my heart

There are more than a few things I dislike about my house, but most have to do with the crappy white trash neighborhood and not the glorious 1920s structure itself (though I may rue the day I professed this as our ceilings are betraying some insidious leaks here and there). Sure, it's dusty and cluttered and we have to keep a plunger in our shower because sometimes the drain gets slow, and sure we still have lots of work to do, but it's really the perfect place for us and I'm willing to tolerate a lot in order to have a space I like so much. But (and you knew there was a BUT, didn't you?) it drives me absolutely batty that we don't have (and can't accommodate) a dishwasher. One of the things that sold me on the house initially is that the kitchen is all basically original, right down to the great big old cabinets and the ice box (and I'm not talking one with electricity). It's that same charm--and the the super-low and narrow counters that go with it--that prevents us from finding any dishwasher that can be easily installed.

I know I sound lazy, but I think we're all allowed to have our quirks. I HATE manually washing dishes and feel there are about a thousand better things I can be doing with my time than scrubbing each precious little dish and spoon, each rubber stopper for the sippy cup lids, all my pots and pans. I can't get into the zen-like state Nate professes to fall into each time he's up to his elbows in suds (he'd have you believe he enjoys the dishes), and I honestly never do such a good job because ultimately I think I'd rather eat off of somewhat clean plates or cook in almost clean pans than sit with a scouring pad to try to get a little goo off a hidden little corner.

That said, I'm no slacker. As Clementine and I are leaving for Chicago tomorrow, I decided it was my turn to handle the dinner dishes and leave her to play with her dad. I have a method that makes me feel like it's not so bad, so I got started and listened to C's little prattling as she and her dad rolled toy cars down the ramp of her garaged and rifled through her musical instruments. I faded in and out of the conversation but heard that she decided to play the piano and instructed her dad to play the guitar. "OK," he said, "we'll play a duet. A duet it when two people play a song together." Clementine began banging on the keys of her little piano, Nate began strumming and then she began to sing the sweetest little song she's made up this week: "Dooo-ET, dooo-ET, doooooooo-EHHHHHHT! I sing duet, duet." And somehow that's all I needed. It all felt so normal, bucolic even: my small labor in the kitchen, their conversation and music, the cricket chirping through the windows. The moment was all mine, and I wanted to wrap it up in a bit of colored tissue paper to pull out now and then when I need warming: the sound of the two of them together and the feeling of being included even though neither could know for sure I was listening. I stopped and recognized moments like this all the time when Clementine was younger, and I really must remember to stop the rushing and the adventure every now and then and live the moments. They are so sweet.

The summer is really fleeing after these last few weeks, and, case in point, I haven't taken time to stop and reflect on how much Clementine has changed. Hell, I haven't even managed to look at any of the pictures we took up north a week ago or even those from around town this past weekend. It's perfect summer suspended animation, and I haven't answered an email or talked to many people at all in almost 10 days between the travel and the coming home, trips to the pool, nights on the porch. C and I are off to Chicago for a few days with my mom, my sister and all the regulars, and we will wait patiently for Nate to come and fetch us home again this weekend. I think it will be the last official trip of summer, though we'll squeeze in some local adventures before the school year kicks into high gear. How will we ever get back on a schedule after all this lazy fun?

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Post-vacation blahs

I've been cranky since returning from vacation, and it's not solely because we had car trouble on the way home and had to ride in the 90+ degree heat without air conditioning. In fact, the car trouble was kind of a blessing because it landed us in a nice hotel with a pool; we extended the vacation and had a luxurious swim to boot. I'm cranky because it's hot here in Detroit, I am supposed to report to work through Friday although I have NOTHING to do (and there's no way I'm coming back tomorrow or Friday) and I really really want to be back on vacation. We're good at it, and I think Clementine is a good traveler too, which was a very pleasant surprise.

I wasn't quite articulate enough about how much we enjoyed our trip to Virginia because I still can't quite put my finger on it myself. It has been a long time since we've taken a trip outside of the state of Michigan that wasn't to visit family or meet other obligations, and the complete freedom that comes with a half-planned road trip really suits how we do things--go where we want, stop when we want, change routes, be open to what we encounter. Sometimes when I look at the adult life I've built for myself I wonder where all this freedom has gone; how have I given up my gypsy ways to own a house, keep to a schedule, live without much risk? Part of the enchantment of our southern sojourn must come from giving that regularity up, if only temporarily, to feel less like automatons and more like members of a wide and mysterious world waiting for us to discover it.

I have talked before about some of the recklessness and freedom I want to engender in Clementine as she grows up, and certainly this kind of footloose travel has to be a part of it. It's difficult for us to fit it in as a family, though, because our extended family is scattered across the country and has a lot of demands on our travel and free time (though we get few visitors apart from my mom and sister, which gets my ire up more than I can say). We also postpone for convenience and lack of funds, and I think I've just got to put a stop to all that right now and hit the road like we never have before. Nate recently bought a VW bus (yes, FIVE cars--we now have FIVE cars, so please let me know immediately if you are in the market for any kind of vehicle, especially an eco-conscious Mercedes that runs on used veggie oil), and once it's running (did I forget to mention that it barely runs? yeah.) I intend to make good use of it, Little Miss Sunshine allusions be damned.

Some family trips I want to take include hiking some of the Appalachian Trail, floating down the Mississippi, driving out to the west coast over a few weeks and wandering through Canada. I'm also working on a trip to England next spring and a camping trip around Iowa for next summer. I want us to take surfing lessons together some year, go to a yoga retreat and a dude ranch, hang out in upstate New York at a funky hotel we've been eyeing and spend more time in DC and Baltimore. I want to go to Marfa, Texas and see if it's really all that, and I want to get back to New Mexico. We'll do cities: more Chicago but also New York, Toronto, San Francisco, Boston.... I want Clementine to know eastern Pennsylvania, though she'll never have the experiences I did every summer with my grandma, and I want her to be able to pick out her own destinations, even if they are Disneyland. And I think I want to move, too. More than once, put down roots all over the damn place and let her know that "home" is more than the place you grow up--it's the people and experiences that fill your youth, not just where you happened to spend it.

I'm getting excited just thinking about it. And man if that didn't help me spend a good chunk of my last day of work.