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Spring has officially sprung in Utah.  (And by “officially” I mean that it hasn’t snowed in over 10 days and the tulips are popping up everywhere.  Oh, and when I go running, I can smell hyacinth.  It’s very scientific.)   The blue sky and floriferous trees fill me with delight.

Of course, the warm weather also fills me with a desire to travel.  (Ok, so nearly everything fills me with a desire to travel, but especially spring.)  Just this week one friend left for a trip to Turkey.  I found out another, who just finished a ph.D, is heading to Europe for 7 weeks.  One is moving to Oregon.  Another to Washington, D.C.  My brother is spending a month in Spain.  And another brother is probably spending the summer in NYC.  Jerks.

Not to worry, I’ve got lots of fun road trips and adventures planned this summer.  Even so, I can’t help but feel a twinge of “take me with you” every time someone goes somewhere without me.  As if it’s inconceivable anyone would go on a trip that didn’t include me.  (Which is funny because I believe a lot of the world’s problems would disappear if everyone traveled more.)

The thing is, if I stay in one place for very long, I start to feel dull.  There’s no need for that, of course.  I’m good at finding adventures and happiness wherever I am.  In fact, one of my favorite poems helps in situations like these.  It’s by one of my favorite poets, Billy Collins.

You can hear him read it by clicking here, or you can just read the text below.

Consolation

by Billy Collins

How agreeable it is not to be touring Italy this summer,
wandering her cities and ascending her torrid hilltowns.
How much better to cruise these local, familiar streets,
fully grasping the meaning of every roadsign and billboard
and all the sudden hand gestures of my compatriots.

There are no abbeys here, no crumbling frescoes or famous
domes and there is no need to memorize a succession
of kings or tour the dripping corners of a dungeon.
No need to stand around a sarcophagus, see Napoleon's
little bed on Elba, or view the bones of a saint under glass.

How much better to command the simple precinct of home
than be dwarfed by pillar, arch, and basilica.
Why hide my head in phrase books and wrinkled maps?
Why feed scenery into a hungry, one-eyes camera
eager to eat the world one monument at a time?

Instead of slouching in a café ignorant of the word for ice,
I will head down to the coffee shop and the waitress
known as Dot. I will slide into the flow of the morning
paper, all language barriers down,
rivers of idiom running freely, eggs over easy on the way.

And after breakfast, I will not have to find someone
willing to photograph me with my arm around the owner.
I will not puzzle over the bill or record in a journal
what I had to eat and how the sun came in the window.
It is enough to climb back into the car

as if it were the great car of English itself
and sounding my loud vernacular horn, speed off
down a road that will never lead to Rome, not even Bologna.

Yesterday I walked into the office for my appointment.  I chatted with the secretary, Pam, who I have become good friends with over the course of my many visits there.  She announced my visit, “Paul?  Beautiful Audrey is here.”  That’s right, beautiful.  I could have kissed her.  I chuckled and said, “Well, I’m not really looking so beautiful today.”  She smiled warmly, “Oh Audrey, you’re a natural beauty.”  That’s right, natural.  Take that Hollywood celebrities.  You might be famous, but do you have flawless skin?  Didn’t think so.

Of course, there are a few things you should probably know.  First, Pam works in a high school guidance counseling office.  She probably lies to children all day.  Second, she is a mother.  She probably lies to children all day.  Third, she’s probably in her 50s (I can never tell), so she’s probably a liar with declining vision.

But I mean, it was one compliment…why should I care?  Am I that vain?

Part of the problem might be that I primarily work from home now.  There are some days when the only other human I talk to in person is my husband.  And yeah, he tells me I’m beautiful, but that’s just so that I don’t throw things at him when he walks through the door.

Also, the night before I happened to attend a lecture/discussion at the library.  I had been to the gym and hadn’t showered and wasn’t really looking my best.  Naturally I ran into a former co-worker I hadn’t seen in nearly a year and felt embarrassed I wasn’t looking more polished.  It’s not that I was trying to impress anyone…I just like to feel that I look respectable.

Why should any of this matter anyhow?  Haven’t I reached a point where I’m secure, if not exuberant, in my own skin?  Publicly, yes; privately, no.  So until that changes, I’ll make sure I shower before going out in public.

On any given day, here is what you will find in my car: road atlas, change for parking meters, Happenings coupon book, plastic eating utensils, toilet paper roll, a cd I’ve checked out from the library (or an audiobook), an mp3 player or iPod, car manual, and a pack of mints.

In the trunk you’ll find the following: ice scraper, 72 hour kit in a backpack, emergency car supplies, ice skates, roller blades, yoga mat, and tap shoes.  When I open my trunk I giggle at the sight of all my toys.  And because I just had my first tennis lesson, I have a feeling the toy box will be expanding soon.

And really, I think everyone should have a toy or two in their vehicle.  You just never know what opportunity might arise.  On the one hand, it’s convenient.  I’ve just run an errand and have an hour or two to spare – why not go ice skating?  On the other, it’s mentally fun.  I laugh when I imagine a cop pulling me over and asking me to open the trunk on suspicion of drug possession.  But I also like knowing that no matter how mundane the commute, I always have the option of pulling over and doing something different.  I’m not trapped.  I’m not comfortless.  I’m on my way to better things.

Over the years my job has changed and my residence has changed, but my car has remained the same.  I think it’s weird when people get too attached to their cars, so I’ll stop right there.  Suffice it to say, I like that a purely transitional piece (a car), has served so well as a home, a resting place, a toy box, and a venue for solo singing at the top of my lungs to songs I won’t publicly admit to knowing.   So there.

Junk mail, beloved junk mail.  This time you’ve gone too far.  I don’t mind the useless clothing brochures.  I can handle an occasional free sample of lotion.  But this?  THIS?

No joke.  A copy of American Cheerleader magazine arrived in my mailbox today.  Addressed to me.  Don’t ask me how I got on this mailing list.  I have never cheered a day in my life.  Oh, and p.s. I’m not in high school or college.  I have a job and a house and a 401k.  And if I were to suddenly be interested in teen mags, I have a feeling that this would not be at the top of the list.

I mean, the number of exclamation points in this publication is exhausting.  So is the obviousness of why I never wanted to be a cheerleader.

At least I’ve been amused by the advertisements.  Teen ads are so much easier to mock than adult ones.

“When you’re strong, you sparkle.”  Just like Tinkerbell!

“Made with a crazy-absorbent material…”  You read that correctly: crazy-absorbent.  It’s a good thing they hyphenated.

I have, however, learned a few things.

- Most cheerleaders who voted on a MySpace poll considered themselves either “popular and outgoing” or “fun and friendly” as opposed to “sporty and spunky,” “leader & motivator,” “intense and competitive,” or “low key and supportive.”  I feel a lot better knowing that.

- There’s a bigger market of shaving creams and razors, lotion, acne face wash and feminine hygiene products than I ever imagined.

- Fashion at cheer camp is, like, way important.

- There are lots of variations of cheer uniforms…and they all look exactly alike.

One cheerleader noted the 5 best things about going to college.  Here were her rankings:

1.    The dining hall.
2.    Parties.
3.    College football.
4.    Going to class every morning, instead of work!
5.    I get to cheer!

Let’s just say that my favorite things looked slightly different.  (Hint: they didn’t include parties, football or cheer.)  But that’s just me.

Another useful feature in the magazine is a monthly Cheer O Scope.  I don’t mean to brag, but as a Gemini it looks like I’ve got big things ahead of me:

“So much to do!  Your focus is on changes the squad will face once this year’s seniors leave: figuring out the stunts and choreography occupy most of your non-academic time.  At home, redecorating your room takes precedence over chores in both your mom’s mind and yours (for once!).  Create plenty of room for all the sleepovers you’ll be having: social life rules!”

That’s seriously what it says.  I didn’t change a thing.

I don’t mind cheerleaders.  Honest.  I think it’s great we have them.  I just resent them rah rah rah-ing in my mailbox.  I don’t need reminders that I can’t do the splits and could never be a “flyer” unless supported by a team of WWF wrestlers.  I’m happy living in a world that doesn’t require me to wear mini-skirts or use pom-poms on a regular basis.

But hey, for those who can, go team go.

Ever pass up a free concert only to find out it was incredible?  Me too.  Luckily I didn’t do that on Wednesday when Michael Franti and Spearhead were performing – for free – in honor of Earth Day.

Before the concert even began I knew it would be a fruitful endeavor, mostly on account of the guy with a belt buckle made of an old school Nintendo controller.  I also appreciated the wide range of tattoos on display that evening, not to mention the several (that’s right – more than one) hula hoopers who were ready to jive.

None of that mattered, of course, once Michael Franti took the stage.  Phenomenal energy.  The audience was on its feet and jumping for most of the night.  It was incredible.  What’s not to love about lyrics that say things like,

“wise folks count their blessings, fools count their problems”

“you’ve got to let go of remote control”

“a little bit of rhythm makes the world go round”

“no matter who you are, we are all one people”

and “the more I see the less I know, but I know one thing, I love you”?

I just loved loved loved it.  Check it out.

- Motorcycle riders who look like they weigh more than their bikes.

- People who use their children in photos of furniture they’re selling online.

- The couple going for a walk on Sunday wearing their church clothes and pushing their baby stroller while the husband proudly sported a gun on his holster.  He looked extremely pleased with himself. Compensating for something?

There’s a cool program called StoryCorps that goes around the country recording the stories of people.  They have a  sound studio in their trailer and let people interview each other and just talk for 40 minutes.  Some of the recordings even make it to NPR.

I managed to snag an appointment and took the opportunity to interview my mom.  I probably laughed too much for them to consider broadcasting us, but it was loads of fun.  I asked my mom about some of the places we’ve lived and road trips we’ve had over the years.  A couple of themes emerged.

First, how my dad handles minor catastrophes (such as locking the rental car with the engine still running).  Second, exposing  your children to rich cultural opportunities is sometimes disastrous.  Third, it always helps to have money, though the lack of it certainly makes things more colorful.

I learned several things I had never known.  It was also fun remembering stories I hadn’t thought of in a while.  In other words, take some time to swap stories, even if you don’t have a nifty recording studio on wheels.

Today marks exactly 6 months of marriage for me.  Not much of accomplishment, I realize (if that’s what matrimony is these days), but still a notable landmark on my brief timeline.  As such, I have a few observations to share today:

1. The term “mrs.” should just be abolished already.  It makes me feel old and boring.

2. Toenails grow a lot in 6 months.  Below is a picture of my toes.  I have not painted them or removed the polish since my wedding day.  As you can see, my toe has thrived in marriage.

I decided that 6 months was long enough, so today I had a pedicure with my friend Gaby.  I kind of miss the previous Barbie shade of pink, but am pleased with the gutsy optimism of “Cajun Shrimp.”

3. There’s a lot more comedic material than I ever imagined in marriage.  My husband makes me laugh everyday — and sometimes it’s even on purpose.

4. Everyone jumps to conclusions.  Mostly the pregnant kind.  If I want to go to lunch with someone I haven’t seen in a while, they assume I want to tell them I’m pregnant.  Since when did lunch = pregnancy announcement?  It makes me feel like wearing a t-shirt that reads: I’m not pregnant and don’t intend to be any time soon.  One of these days I just might do it.

5. I’m surprised my husband isn’t sick of me yet.  And undoubtedly grateful as well.

Does anyone enjoy doing taxes?  Even when I get a refund I’m angry I have to jump through all those hoops in the first place.

In honor of tax day, I’ll be watching one of my all time favorite movies, Stranger Than Fiction, which came out in 2006 and is about an IRS agent named Harold Crick (played by Will Ferrell, who is surprisingly good in this serious role).  The picture above is actually from the movie and is one most taxpayers will appreciate — I mean who doesn’t want to yell at an IRS agent on April 15th?

Regardless your feelings, I’m pretty sure Stranger Than Fiction will leave you smiling.  And if not, blame the IRS.

It’s rainy and windy today and I’m working from home.  The combination of weather and work means that it is almost noon and I’m still in my pajamas.  I see no reason to leave the house, much less get dressed.  So I’m not.  And I’m ok with that.  Frankly I’m delighted by it.  There’s something about cold, rainy days that just make me want to curl up in cozy clothing (done) and watch movies (maybe later) or sip hot cocoa (maybe now).

It reminds me of attending elementary school in Washington State where recess was often rained out and we were forced to entertain ourselves indoors.  Some classes got to go to the gym and play, others were left in the classroom to annoy their teachers and run with scissors.

I find I’m more inwardly focused on rainy days.  I think of delicious indoor activities like coloring or reading or having a picnic on the floor.  It almost seems like a vacation to me.  When it’s sunny and nice I love going outside.  When it’s snowy I accept that I’m mostly confined to indoor things.  But when it rains I take it as a free pass to just take it easy and enjoy the peace of a soft chair, a fat cat, and the serenade of raindrops.