A new knee for my mom

At the hospital again. For a person like me who has never broken a bone or had any kind of surgery (knock on wood) I have spent way too much time at the hospital. This time was different though in that instead of being there with my mom to visit my grandma, I came to hang out with my mom while she gets a new knee.

A few years ago, I was hanging out with my Dad and I asked him when I would feel like an adult. He just laughed and said he'd let me know when it happened to me. Well yesterday was the day. We woke up early and headed to the hospital. Mom checked herself in and did all the stuff you have to do, but then I realized that I would be acting as her power of attorney if anything went wrong. This is the only time since I was little that I kind of wished I had siblings. As they wheeled her away and left me to occupy myself in the waiting room, I had this awful realization that one day it might just be me. People die...it's not exactly a newsflash...but I guess I just hadn't really spent much time thinking about what it would be like to lose my family. Hopefully I won't have to find out anytime soon, but it did make me realize in a new way that I am a grown up now...an adult responsible for my actions, for my life, and for my family.

There is a part of me that thinks this trip is selfish and maybe even foolish. It's certainly not the adult thing to do right? Over and over again I get the backhanded compliment "I wish I could do that? Just pick up and go," most often followed by a list of all the obligations adults have. "I have to pay bills. I can't afford to take that kind of time off from my job. I have to...blah, blah, blah." And on the other end, I have friends sending me job notices. "It takes a long time to get a job. Maybe you should just send out some applications before you go." I get it. I'm usually a very practical person and this is not a practical or rational thing to do...but then again, there is a part of me that just knows I'm on the right track. I don't know what's going to happen. I'm bad a fortune telling. As I sat in that waiting room wondering what was going to happen, I couldn't feel any particular intuition, just that nervous stomach feeling that it could go either way.

The surgery went off flawlessly. I spent the first hour waiting around with a 6 year old named Zoe who insisted on showing me her robotic pink poodle and her mechanical cat that was frozen due to lack of batteries. Then she read me an article from Highlights Magazine about this dolphin who was fitted with an artificial tail after being caught in a tuna trap. It was actually really interesting. Eventually they called her mother in to see whoever they were visiting. Though I learned a lot about dolphins and school and Zoe's neighborhood, I never did find out who they were waiting for. Once left to my own devices I watch a movie until the surgery was over. Afterwards they took my Mom to a private room where she could sleep and watch tv. I joined her and watched another movie on my computer.

She's doing well today, coherent, chatty, and very much alive. She walked from her bed to the hallway with the help of a walker. Even the physical therapist was very impressed by her strength. As for me, I'm just relieved.

Adventures at Casa Colima

While there are many advantages to having Mexican friends: getting to practice Spanish, getting invited to amazing homemade feasts, and of course the fact that Dad's friends are just cool people, the disadvantage is that Mexicans in general seem to have a completely different sense of time...meaning that if the party starts at 4pm and we get there at 6pm, it still might not actually start til 7pm (as was the case last BBQ). Knowing this I was tripping by 10pm when we still hadn't firmed up our salsa plans. I did, however, decide that if they flaked out, I would go anyway.

So around 10:00pm on Saturday night, I got all dolled up and walked down to Casa Colima where there was allegedly going to be a DJ and some salsa music. I made my way to the second floor which I had never been on before. There were tables and chairs bordering a nice sized hardwood dance floor. Against the wall was a dj podium with a man in a suit spinning cumbia.I took a seat at an empty table, joining the 7 other people in the club. Yup. Living in America has made me perpetually early for everything. My CP time is way off. So I ordered a drink. The server brought it to me and opened a tab, and then circled me a few times before coming back and asking me "Are you alone?" I looked from my left to my right before confirming. Yes. I was alone. She kind of laughed awkwardly then rephrase. "No, but did you come here alone?" I nodded. She introduced herself as Marisol. 5 minutes later the people at the next table, a 22 year old black cuban girl named Renee, approached me. "Are you alone?" she asked. By this time I was feeling very self conscious. Yes, I answered. This seemed very upsetting to her, so she invited me to join her at her table where she was sitting with her boyfriend, his brother and the brother's wife.

More people began to trickle in and I noticed 2 things...1) Renee and I were the only non-Mexicans in the room and 2) everyone was arriving like Ark animals 2 by 2. That's right, the only people who weren't in pairs were the servers, the dj, and the waitstaff. Also while there was some salsa being played it was mostly cumbia interspersed with merengue and ranchero which I think of as Mexican polka. The women and I danced a bit in a group, then we sat and people watched.

More people arrived, gentleman dressed like gauchos with their cowboy hats and boots and large belt buckles, ladies in all shapes and sizes stuffed into improbably tight jeans and halter tops. And then the music stopped and the dj announced that in addition to dancing there would be karaoke. One of the beautiful parts about singing karaoke in Japan is the invention of private booths. You and your party which could be any size from 2-100 or more had your own private show, which means you can sing as much as you want and as many times as you want and also, only the people with you can hear it. After about two songs I was wishing these people had booths. I have no love of long yodeling Mexican ballads. The best thing that can be said of it was that after five songs the dj played another set of music, but shortly 1am when the next set of karaoke began, I thanked my table hosts and walked home.

On the walk there were two young white guys standing by the bus stop. I thought briefly about crossing the street to avoid them, as it was about 1:30am, but they seemed harmless enough and what good is having a black belt if you have to be afraid to walk around at night.

"The party's over huh?" One them inquired as I passed by.
"Yup," I responded.
"Walking home alone?" he asked.
"Yup," I said not breaking my stride though inwardly irritated by this wealth of strangers who seem to be taking personal offense to a woman who might want to go out alone.
"You don't have to be," he said. "I'd be happy to walk you home."
"Nope. That won't be necesary," I replied.
"No really. I'd loved to..." he'd persisted.
"Don't make me stab you with my high heels," I answered and with that, made my way home alone without any further issues or conversation.

Really though people, I felt like I was having a Carrie Bradshaw single girl moment. It's much less funny when it's not on tv. Is this what I have to look forward to throughout the rest of my 30s? Something to contemplate...

Not so much nothing in Portland

After the jarring, draining, necessary annoyance that was putting all my stuff into storage and getting out of my apartment, I spent my last few days in Seattle running errands and hanging out with friends. Then Coco and I drove to Portland to visit my Dad.

One of my favorite things about visiting my dad is doing nothing. When I go to visit my Mom...something I will be doing very shortly...it's always good, but it's also always work. I remember coming home from college for the first time. Mom had a list of chores for me to do. Welcome home! Now we can move the couch and flatten that air bubble in the carpet. Yeah. Not that I begrudge her the help. It isn't easy being by yourself. There are definitely lots of household tasks that require extra hands, but when I go to my Dad's house I can laze and so can Coco. I think it's one of the few places either of us can just veg and not feel guilty. The first time Coco spent the weekend at my Dad's I knew she was hooked. He bought her a bottle of 3 olives vodka and several limes and we had an at home happy hour...me with my rum, him with his tanqueray. We didn't really go anywhere. We didn't see the gardens or check out a new club. We barely made it to the bookstore and Target and that was perfect.

Since then we've tried to make it a monthly appointment...just the three of us and a whole lot of nothing. I guess nothing isn't nothing though. On the drive up, Coco and I process. We catch up, talk about our lives past and present. This drive was the same, except that we both knew I wouldn't be driving back with her. That's the hard part. After Shoshana's move to DC, I suppose I understand it better now. It's always easier to be the one leaving. There is a certain amount of momentum and excitement to leaving. The one who stays behind gets stuck with a friend shaped hole where that person used to be. Every time I ride the #5 bus, I catch myself thinking about getting off by Shoshana's house...except she doesn't live there anymore. Or if it's a beautiful day, I think oh I should call her. We can walk to Greenlake, but she's gone. And so even though it was another fun weekend of at home happy hours and tax free shopping there was this bitter-sweetness to it because I understand now as that extra bit of loneliness you feel when one of your everyday friends skips town. It's like Kahlil Gibran wrote many years ago...even though we walk hand and hand on the path to infinite our journey is our own. My personal journey is one that has required quite a bit of leaving. I just hope my friends will understand.

Coco stayed through the 4th which we spent barbecuing with my Dad's new friends and laughing at his failed attempts to communicate in Spanish. It was actually one of our more adventurous outings. We started at one friend's house where we ate a lot of meat tacos, then we took the entire party with us to somebody's cousin's house where there was grilled corn, even more meat, and vodka with blueberry and blackberry filled ice cubes. Someone strung up a piñata for the children. There was music and dancing, tequila and really good tres leches cake. A good time was had by all. I made plans with some of the people there to go dancing the following weekend.

During the week, though Dad had to work and I had to watch the Harry Potter marathon and repack my suitcase compulsively again and again, we did managed to meet up for Happy Hour. I explored the neighborhood, finding 2 yoga studios, 2 nail salons, the Starbucks with free wifi, and a Jewish Community Center with an indoor soccer complex, massage therapy and an olympic sized pool. Didn't get to swim, but did go to yoga a few times. On Friday Dad only had to work in the morning so by noon we were at Casa Colima for a five hour lunch with his new friends. The next day we went down by the river to read and chill, then I went out salsa dancing...see my next post for details on that. The week went by so quickly and then it was time for the next leg of my journey. On to AZ...

Leaving Seattle

Was it almost a year ago already that I was preparing for my first trip to Ghana...buying malaria pills, filling out visa forms, and trying to imagine what it would be like to see for myself this place that had been so pivotal in my mother's life? And when we came back, I knew that it would be my last year working at my beautiful little school, not because I didn't enjoy it, but rather because I already somehow outgrown it. It was a strange way to start the year...a bit like reading the end of a book before the beginning, but there have been a lot of surprises along the way.And as the journey has unfolded, I've realized repeatedly how much I have to learn about how life works and what I'm supposed to be doing on this planet.

This week's big lesson has been how to act with integrity even when you want to punch somebody in the face...not sure I've mastered it, but I didn't punch anybody, so I suppose that's a start. Wednesday was the day of Mz. Blu and my big move. I spent all last week packing boxes and trying to consolidate things worth keeping. While I admit to having lots of books, I don't really think of myself as having a lot of stuff. This myth was disproved as I tried to shove all my belongings in a storage box...some things had to go. But eventually I packed it all up and then helped Mz. Blu get her stuff moved. Then our asshole landlords decided they wanted to see how much of the deposit they could rip us off for. Apparently removing glitter from the porch stairs requires $120. After several arduous hours of moving and cleaning, I had run out of patience. I kind of lost my temper, but I did get my entire deposit back so at least that part is over. Endings never quite go the way I think they will. That's another lesson learned. But throughout it all I have been so grateful for all the support. My community has once again shown me that generosity has no bounds. Especially Mr. Davis who not only helped us through moving hell, but then set up my entire art show, entrusted me with his car and gave me a lovely space to chill in for my remaining day in Seattle.

Though I hadn't really been thinking about this trip as the end of something, it actually is. Seattle is still my home in so many ways...if home is where your couch lives or where you friends are or just where you know which buses go where, but I know that when I come back it won't be the same. I won't be the same and I'm okay with that. So now I'm going to repack my suitcase and head to Portland for part one of the adventure. Stay tuned.

World Cup Fever

The only time I wish I owned a T.V. happens once every 4 years. I like the Olympics, and I'll watch a few events, but I LOVE the world cup. Though I haven't played on a team for several years after about 12 years of being a goal keeper, I haven't lost my love of the game. There is something still pure about it...the athleticism, the drama, what's not to love.

My heart is still pounding from the US vs. Algeria game. I can't believe we're actually advancing.We played well, even though they robbed of us of a goal (the instant replay shows we were NOT off sides!). The Algerian keeper was amazing (and gorgeous), but their defense just wasn't there. I think this is the only time this week I've voluntarily gotten up earlier than 7am, but it was well worth it. All the games are being shown in the local pubs no matter what time they start. I remember not being able to watch the games when I was younger because we didn't have cable, now they're on everywhere.

The first world cup I remember really watching was when I was 16 and in love with Italy. My mom and I were traveling in Senegal and every time we went to a bar or restaurant with the game on, I was busy trying to figure out if my team was going to move on, much to the amusement of the Senegalese people who really did not understand why a 16 year old American girl would care. Then there was the world cup in Japan/Korea. I was living there at the time and even playing on a team again for the first time in ages. I did everything I could to get tickets, short of spending the night out on the street, but due to a glitch in the electronic system, I (like many others) couldn't get tickets. I had to settle for pub watching, but it was still amazing. It's the energy, the elation, the devastation, the intensity of watching your team work through the matches. Like the Olympics, people from all over the world put their collective attention on the games and though we're hardcore about supporting our teams, there is still a camaraderie about simply being there and watching, no matter who you're cheering for. I can't quite explain it. It's like for this brief window of time we're all on the same page, we're all wondering what's going to happen next.

Gratitude

It has been a crazy month. Tina and I hosted 3 Red Couch Gallery fundraisers featuring arts and crafts by: Tina Blu Creationz, Mikal Whoberry, Rachel Malinak with AphroditeXchange, Nacala Ayele of Euphoryia, Nick Moorhead, VJ, and a few others. I was also the featured performer at Ladies 1st this June. Between fundraisers, art and book sales, and some very generous donations, I am happy to announce that I was able to reach my financial goal. I've purchased my tickets and I will be leaving Seattle on July 2.

The general itinerary...subject to change:
July 2 Portland, OR
July 12 Phoenix, AZ
August 15 Ghana (via NYC)
August 24 Morocco
September 1 Spain and Portugal (am working out a side trip to Lisbon)
October 1 New York, NY
October 5 Washington DC
From there...not quite sure.

While I am thrilled to have made the money, this has been a hard process. I've realized that I don't like asking for help...which I suppose is why I don't do it very often. It's uncomfortable and sometimes vulnerable, but I have been blessed and at times overwhelmed by the generosity I've experienced. The Buddha teaches us that our energy is karmic and has an echo...that the things in our life are a reflection of what we've put out. I don't know what I could have done to be so well blessed, but truly I will up my game and be a better person to my entire community simply to feel worthy of these amazing gifts.

First and foremost I have to thank my family, especially my parents who have been wonderfully supportive. And thank you to Mz. Blu my sister and roomate, who has gone above and beyond by helping to recruit artists and always pushing me to do the smart thing even when I was cranky and didn't want to do it anymore. Special thanks to all those who were able to contribute financial and also those whose contributions were in time, support, organizing, and cleaning.

THANK YOU: Mom, Dad, Julie, Tina, Lyndon, Karen, Nacala, Torito, Julie and Jason B, VJ, Mikal, Rachel, Mike and Courtney, Pedro and Luzelvia, Nick, Jeannie, Ron, Callie, Kendall, Camille, Joan, Nancy, Diane, Linda and Russ, Meghan and Melissa, Roman, Anna, Lori, Samantha, Alex, Tamika, Sylva, Sarah, Paula, David, Julia, Yaneth, Ossob, Lindi, Shana, Bea, Sonia, Eric, my entire sangha...Michael, Laura, Gia, Garth, Katie, Sheri, Not A Number Books and Gifts, CSL, Amazing Grace, Black Girl Crew, CARA, The Neo Arts Program, The Meridian School, and the Wallyhood Blog.

I will be taking my computer with me and thanks to some lovely co-workers I will have grounded adapters for each country...meaning I won't be frying my laptop with the change in electrical current. So get ready for the adventure! I know I am.

Red Couch Gallery Tomorrow!

We're gearing up for the second Red Couch Gallery tomorrow. We will be featuring art by: rejj arts, Tina Blu Creationz, Mikal Whoberry, AphroditeXchange, VJ, Nick Moorehead, Pedro DeValdia, and more. Check us out in the Wallyhood at 1804 N. 51st from 3-9PM. Also check out the article written about us on the Wallyhood blog! http://www.wallyhood.org/