Accumulation

When I was growing up, I looked forward to snow days with gleeful relish. I remember waking up and wishing as hard as I could before I opened my blinds, hoping to see the world transformed by swaths of fluffy white frosting. If it started to snow the night before, I worried that the plows would clear it away before morning, or, worse, that it wouldn't stick, but melt away silently in the night before we had a chance to enjoy it.

Snow days meant a surprise vacation in the middle of the week, hours and hours of unplanned time and a whole new landscape to conquer. My sisters and I would stuff ourselves into snowpants and parkas and dive bodily into the drifts, immune to the cold - or at least untroubled by it, in the face of so many adventures to be had. Icicle maintenance was always on the agenda. We would check the length of our favorite specimens, debate the best time for harvest, and build cushions out of snow in case they dropped too soon. Next we might explore the mysterious caverns under the bushes, where miniature icicles adorned the branches and a thick ceiling of snow lent a magical, bluish light to the space.

Of course there were always sculptures to be made: snowmen, snow angels, snow caves and forts. One winter, Dad was inspired to pile all the snow he shoveled from the driveway into the same place, so that the resulting hill nearly reached our (admittedly non-standard) basketball backboard. That glorious mountain allowed us to make a two-story cave with a slide on the outside.

One of our favorite snow activities, though, was making snow houses. These were not three-dimensional constructions but rather floorplans stomped into the yard that outlined palatial residences with as many rooms as our imaginations could muster up. Somehow these simple layouts were even more inspiring to the imagination than anything structural we ever attempted. I loved the feeling of having my own space, deciding where I wanted everything to go, and inhabiting the fantasy world that seemed to spring up around me from just a simple schematic on the ground.

When we moved to San Diego, one of the hardest transitions for me and my younger sister was the loss of our winter wonderland. Southern California had seasons, but they didn't seem particularly linked to the time of year, and they never preempted school. Worst of all, when December rolled around it didn't feel like Christmas. The Christmas tree in the living room helped, of course, but if you took one glance out the living room window, the mood was ruined by the view of a glimmering blue swimming pool surrounded by birds-of-paradise and tropical palms.

So we had to take matters into our own hands. Commandeering the kitchen and demanding absolute privacy, the two of us embarked on a top-secret mission to bring the snow to San Diego. I'm sure the secrecy was compromised more than once: we weren't exactly using a low-traffic area of the house. But on Christmas morning, when Mom opened the living room curtains, we were all treated to a panorama of arctic bliss. The swimming pool had become an ice skating rink, visitors warmed their hands at the jacuzzi, and concession stands sold hot chocolate at the patio tables.

As the years passed, I expected to get used to the Southern California climate: cool and cloudy in June, mild through the summer, windy and devilishly hot in the fall, and cool-ish in the winter. By the time I left California in 2009, I had lived there for more than 20 years. In fact, I lived in my apartment in Los Angeles longer than any other house I'd lived in up until that point in my life. Yet still I felt California's weather patterns were unnatural, and I longed for signs of the seasons, thrilling with each colored leaf or overhyped local TV weather StormWatch. Maybe there's a certain window of childhood during which your experience of the world around you shapes what you believe to be natural. I knew that I was romanticizing the snow, that driving in it would be a challenge I'd never had to face before, and that I was probably soft after years of living in a climate that rarely dips below 50 degrees. But I was ready for snow again, and when I had the opportunity to choose where to live (twice), I chose somewhere with four distinct seasons (both times).

Winter in Denver has, therefore, been something of a dream come true. It took its time in coming. November came and went with only a dusting or two of snow, and temperatures remained buoyantly in the upper 40s and 50s. But in December we experienced a few cold fronts from the north, and my wish for a landscape swathed in snowy beauty was granted.

Meanwhile, I've been doing some accumulation of my own, indoors. I have officially moved all my belongings here to Denver, and now am setting about the task of finding a place for everything. It's very strange going through boxes and boxes of stuff that was important enough to keep in storage but not necessary to my more spartan style of living in the past year. But I'm also getting some enjoyment out of defining my new living space, carving a new structure for my life out of the nebulous freedom I fell (leapt?) into a year and a half ago. I like it here. And I think it's going to stick.

Catching up: I live in Denver now!

I have been meaning to post for so long, and working (in occasional feverish, well-intentioned yet doomed bursts) on the next entry, that I was very surprised recently to look at my blog and realize that the last time I posted was almost 6 months ago.

The short version of the story is that I moved to Denver.  The medium version of the story is that I decided to try out Denver for the summer, and liked it so well that I am still here, and have moved at least enough of my warm clothes here to make it through the winter.  I guess the long version is something we'll have to hash out in person.  Want to meet for drinks?  I know the perfect place.

My previous attempts to sum up my Denver experience so far have been way too wordy.  I think what I'll try to do instead is mention a few things I'm enjoying so far and illustrate it with some of the pictures I've been taking.

I love being near the mountains again.

     

The weather is spectacular...

...and the seasonal changes are very exciting.

     

Denver has lots of cool little unique sub-communities.  More info here.

   

Public transportation is always nice... so is public art.

 

The arts are indeed alive and well here.

Cool digital installation at the Denver Art Museum

 

 Playing at the Museum of Nature and Science ... singing Brahms Requiem at
                                                                        St. John's Episcopal

 

Singing with St. Martin's Chamber Choir at the Botanic Gardens

Returning from a recent trip to California, the pilot announced the weather over the intercom:  "It's 75 and sunny in Denver.  Welcome to Paradise!"  I laughed to myself.  He doesn't realize we've just escaped Paradise!  Or maybe the joke's on me... 

Paradise Lost

When I was planning my escape to Idaho, I had a feeling that some things would become clear to me that I couldn't yet see through the haze of all the work and commitments I had in L.A.  I was excited to find out what I would discover about myself and what it would mean for my future.

Unfortunately, such discoveries are not always pleasant.  Stepping back and looking at my life through clear eyes showed me something I did not want to see, and led me to a path I never intended to take.  There were warning signs before we left L.A., some subtle and some overt, but the excitement of leaving, combined with the emotional toll of saying good-bye to my cherished friends and activities, clouded my vision.

Being far away from friends and family and unencumbered by a regular job put my personal relationship in the spotlight.  We cared deeply about each other and we were both committed to making the relationship work, but we had some recurring issues.  Ultimately I discovered, unfortunately, that there was no acceptable middle ground.  Our differences were fundamental and substantial.  No amount of wishing or trying could take away the underlying fact that we were not right for each other.

After arriving at that realization, I took a couple of trips that I already had planned, visiting friends and family in Salt Lake City and checking out Portland, Oregon as a possible place to land.  Then I flew to San Diego to be in the comfort of my parents' home for a bit, while I contemplate my next move.

When I started my blog, "Escaping Paradise" was an ironic statement.  I was declaring my rejection of the characteristics that people seem to seek out in Southern California: the endless summer, the party atmosphere, the paparazzi. All these are things that I don't value.  I felt that I could find my own paradise somewhere else, away from the distractions of L.A.  But now I feel like I've accidentally escaped every aspect of paradise, and find myself instead in a very uncomfortable limbo.

I'm not saying that I regret going to Idaho.  For one thing, I'm still too close to it all to hope for any objectivity on the subject.  But I also see that life only moves in one direction, and whatever steps I took in the past have led me to where I am now.  I'm happy to be myself and to be alive here and now, so I have to accept and appreciate the events that carried me here.

When I was in Portland, I spent a contemplative hour or two in the Japanese Gardens.  One of my favorite parts of the gardens was the zigzag path.

I enjoyed following the path along its twisty way, turning a full 90 degrees at each new corner I encountered.  I realized that it would be good to appreciate my life right now in the same way.  I want everything to be straight and clear, to know my destination and see the way to get there.  But if that's not the way it's going to be, why not regard the turns and changes of direction as a fun, scenic path?

And so I round this corner, a sharp 90-degree turn to the right, and look at things from a new perspective... again.  I'm sure there will be another discovery waiting for me, just around the bend.

10 good things and 1 bad thing about Idaho so far

Like most people, I have a hard time dealing with change. I can usually see the negative side of a new situation very clearly, and it takes me much longer to appreciate the advantages. I cry whenever I get a new hairstyle. Upon hearing that I have landed a new job, I immediately mourn the loss of my free time. When I move to a new apartment, I zero in immediately on the tiny shower, the loud neighbors, the late-night cockroach parties.

But I'm trying really hard to look at the bright side of this decision to move. After all, it's a choice I made for myself, and I may as well make out of it what I want, right?

So for my first blog post about Idaho, I'm going to challenge myself to be positive. Here's a list of ten things that I'm enjoying about my new home state. And just to indulge myself, I'm going to allow one little complaint at the end. We wouldn't want to go overboard with the whole Pollyanna thing, after all.

10 good things about Idaho

1. The climate is dry.
I really do think this is the top advantage so far. It's hot, but it honestly makes a huge difference that it's not sweltering. Evenings are cool and rosy, and the mornings are crisp. During the day I'm mostly in air conditioned spaces, anyway. But when you're outside, the heat doesn't envelop you like a wet blanket. You can almost avoid feeling it if you sit still enough.

2. It's QUIET.
It's 10:30 pm right now, and all I can hear is the TV in the other room and the occasional dog barking outside. I cannot hear any cars or buses driving by, parties in a nearby bar, helicopters circling endlessly overhead, or neighbors yelling into their cell phones. I realize that the lack of exciting night life could easily be construed by some as a disadvantage, but this is the list of GOOD things. Stay tuned. I'm sure I'll be in the mood to complain someday soon.

3. The colors are brighter.
I don't know if it's the lack of smog (which, by the way, is not as lacking as one might think, but again... that's a story for a later post (I'm really doing well with this optimism thing, aren't I?)), BUT the colors here seem really bright and saturated. It's the same sense I get when I go home to San Diego.... like someone washed my windshield when I didn't realize it was dirty. The lawns all look unrealistically green, and the sky at midday is the most intense blue. It's a lot like Los Angeles during Santa Ana conditions, but without the devil winds putting a wild look in everyone's eye.

4. Driving is almost pleasant.
I went downtown yesterday and had no trouble navigating anywhere, whether I had the address or not. Everywhere I went, there was a parking space right in front. I used my iPhone to help guide me most of the time, and never worried about getting pulled over, because guess what! It's not against the law here yet! Mwahahahaha. Apparently Idahoans either haven't had enough traffic incidents sparked by cell phone usage, or they really mean it when they say they don't want the government running their lives.

5. People are courteous.
If you see someone on the street, they say hi to you. Even people you don't know! Even kids! If you ask for help, Idahoans will help you readily. Today we were waterskiing and our boat motor kept dying. Several people stopped by to ask if we were okay, or if they could do anything to help. And they really meant it! This guy on a wave runner was about to try to tow our huge, 8-person boat to shore. In contrast, Peter was once broken down on the Sacramento River for hours and not a single person stopped to help.

6. There's lots of space.
Houses are set at a decent distance from one another. This seems to be true across the economic spectrum. Even cheaper houses are relatively large, and they all have a decent amount of yard space. It would be pretty hard to accidentally see your neighbor naked here. Let's just say that is not the case where I've lived in the past.

7. There's an abundance of outdoor activities.
I'm not going to say that I didn't have amazing outdoor opportunities in California. That's one of the things I love so much about L.A. But here in Boise things seem somehow more accessible and MUCH less crowded. In under an hour you can drive over to a local lake to waterski, head up to Bogus Basin for snowboarding or snow skiing, or drive downtown for a lovely bike ride along the greenbelt. In any of these places you'll find others doing the same thing, but not in droves. And so far I haven't seen anyone attempt these sports while wearing miniskirts and kitten-heeled flip-flops.

8. It's more laid-back.
I know Southern California is supposed to be chill. But that was not my experience while I was there. In L.A. everyone seems to be trying to get ahead, shoving others out of the way and never looking back. I may not have enough experience in Boise yet to say this for sure, but people here do seem more patient, less intense, and more aware of the people around them.

9. Idaho has seasons!
I've been warned. I know that snow means more than snowmen and sleigh rides. But somehow, knowing that winter is coming makes it okay that it's so hot right now. It's probably because I spent my formative childhood years in places with four distinct seasons, but I feel so much more connected to the earth when everything around me is changing. I can't wait for fall!

10. Peter is here.
This is all so much easier with a partner. We can look at each other knowingly when someone exclaims at the price of a $25 entree, and we can cry on each other's shoulders when we realize this is our last bag of Trader Joe's Nuts About Raspberries & Chocolate Trek Mix. Of course it also helps that he's so good at fixing things and so willing to jump out of the U-Haul to shout directions at me when I accidentally get on the offramp at a busy intersection in Las Vegas. I hope I can repay him for all of this. If there are cockroach parties at our new house, I won't say a word.

1 bad thing about Idaho
And now, here it is, my one complaint about Idaho so far.

THIS SALAD SHOULD NOT EXIST.
Yes, it's carrot slaw. And yes, it features not only raisins but also mini-marshmallows. They might have this in other locations, but I believe it is a favorite local delicacy. And it is NOT OKAY.