Twitter Digest for 2010-07-22

  • @dylanw I thought it was netscape 4. then again, that's from the time when I'd blame N4.7 for ANYTHING. in reply to dylanw #
  • 74F and sunny? why yes, I believe it is time to take a break. #
  • paging @eoctrl: any way to get info about @TRLDistrict library visit stats by day of the week? (esp from 2008 or earlier) #
  • one last sunday CMT memory: dropping a paper cutter on my toe. really. (the handle fell off.) I'd almost forgotten that was a sunday. #
  • @jillheather but our local library system seems to have these moments of cutting the nose to spite the face, so…. ::shrug:: #
  • @jillheather dunno. not a librarian, so I couldn't say. in reply to jillheather #
  • now I'm feeling all nostalgic for summer sundays working at @CMTacoma: reading, doing homework, making ice cream in a coffee can. #
  • @jillheather as for sundays in summer, I think the #s aren't there. people go outside. (sundays working at children's museum were dead.) in reply to jillheather #
  • @jillheather in our system's case, it's all about budget cuts. we used to have sundays in winter, but now no $$$. still have some evenings. in reply to jillheather #
  • RT @jessamyn: RT @wawoodworth "One item (real or imagined) that you would want your library to have. GO." Me: sunday hours. [me too!] #
  • @Oakwright make virtue of necessity & add ice? in reply to Oakwright #
  • RT @FinancialBrand: RT @jrothmanshore BofA is advertising lorem ipsum online http://bit.ly/cm05Om Hope they got a good CPM rate #

Powered by Twitter Tools

The oldest jacket

I’ve been thinking about a formspring question that Kelsey answered the other day: what’s the oldest piece of clothing that you still wear regularly?

Because lately I’ve been wearing that very thing: my old Pasadena Youth Symphony Orchestra Vienna trip jacket from the summer of 1989, when I was a teenage girl playing the viola.* The local youth orchestra was invited to perform at the Vienna youth and music festival (this one?), and we did a two week trip in Germany and Austria.

That trip was the farthest I’d ever traveled — and honestly, still the farthest to this day — I’d only left California to go to Arizona to visit my grandparents. For the first time I experienced forests, big rivers, lakes, mountains: all those things that I came to love about the northwest. I suppose I’d seen some of those things at Big Bear, or on vacation in the Gold Country, but not in that sort of moist temperate climate. Cool summer weather, too; I distinctly remember going on a boat tour under steely-grey skies. It was probably the first inkling of the kind of place where I really wanted to live.

Like any big event, the trip exists in my head as a kaleidoscope of images, sounds, smells, tastes: I got a taste for “fancy” mustard in Germany, I played Barber’s Adagio in the courtyard of Vienna City Hall at dusk, I watched Scarecrow & Mrs King dubbed in German. 🙂 The whole trip was one of those unforgettable experiences — not really immediately life-changing, but an expansion of my view.

I remember being overwhelmed by history in quite a few locations: standing outside of St Stephan’s cathedral in Vienna, and not even being able to fathom a single building being in a single place, used for the same thing, for all that time. “Old” in LA means before World War II, or at most the Spanish Missions: maybe 200 hundred years? Still astounding to me even now, the difference in scale of time.

The people I traveled with were for the most part people I’d known through junior high school, had been in orchestra with, gone to music camp with, and I went to school with probably a third or more. It was a visit to a new place, but embedded in something of my normal life. So I remember moments of feeling my social isolation very intensely, and moments of being in a groove hanging out with friends. More of the former, alas, although at the same time I remember really enjoying some times of wanted solitude. There was a castle we went to on a tour, and I skipped the tour to hang out in the gardens and forest. I may have missed the tour, but oh how I loved walking there by myself.

I got my hair cut in Vienna in my hotel room; I wish I could remember who started it, but it turned out to be at least a dozen people standing around, giving suggestions, or heckling. (The boy I’d had a crush on a few years earlier exclaimed in mocking tones that they were destroying my hair. Or something.) It was actually a pretty decent haircut, looking back at old photos, not terribly unlike the cut I had recently. When I got home, all Mom ever said was: “it’s hair. It grows.” I’ve taken that as my motto re: haircuts ever since.

I think it was also the beginning of growing out of a bad attitude towards the boy who’d had a crush on me in junior high. (Hey there, if you’re reading; tell me if I’m totally flubbing any of this!) I got a penpal through one of the other musical groups, and she thought said boy was dreamy. Which struck me as totally weird, as did her obsession with New Kids on the Block — why yes, it was 1989 — but in some corner of my brain it broke my hard-and-fast antipathy towards him.

As for the jacket itself, it’s white with a Tournament of Roses logo on the back, surrounded with lettering in maroon. It’s got a bit of an 80s flair to it, especially in the collar. The jacket was part of our informal concert uniform, which was completed with white pants and a maroon polo shirt. Who in the name of $DEITY thought that white pants & jackets on teenagers was a good idea?!

I hadn’t worn it since high school, but I kept it out of nostalgia, moving it from box to box over the years. It went out of fashion, or I thought it was dorky, and then I gained weight and it wouldn’t have fit anyway. A couple of years ago, after losing weight, I was cleaning out one of those boxes and started trying on some of the nostalgia clothes. Several things fit that hadn’t in a long time, and the jacket was one of them.

More curiously, it turned out to be just the thing for a particular situation, one which has been happening lately: bicycling in cool but not cold weather, when I’m not expecting any rain but need just a bit of an extra layer. So the last few weeks I’ve worn it with my bike clothes on my morning commutes. It’s comfortable, and I think the (still!) brilliant white makes me a bit more visible. I’m happy I never tossed it in my many moves and cleanouts.

————
* I played viola from 3rd grade through my freshman year of college. I was never particularly good, probably because I balked at practicing. But I enjoyed it, and paid for lessons out of my allowance in junior high and high school (several different great teachers), and got to go to music camp, and played at Disneyland, and, well, went to Europe. Good times.

Twitter Digest for 2010-07-21

Powered by Twitter Tools

Today’s Links 7/20/2010

Digest powered by RSS Digest

Twitter Digest for 2010-07-20

Powered by Twitter Tools

Our weekend

Friday afternoon I got an impromptu haircut appointment at Jamie Lee. C decided to come with me, but I had my bike ready first, and since I was already running late, I went on ahead.

What happened next, from my point of view: I got downtown, locked up my bike, and said hi to Jason. I mentioned that C was coming and that he wanted to share an idea he had for my hair. I suck at explaining hair stuff — which explains some of the goofy cuts I’ve had over the years — and my hair as of yesterday was short, but huge & fluffy in the front. It drove me nuts during the heat wave — I was on vacation, too, so no hiding from the heat in an office building. But even after Jason and I chatted for a bit about how my hair was making me crazy, C hadn’t shown up. So we went & got my hair washed. Which was delightful, getting my head massaged: I had an all day stabbed-in-the-face headache.

C still hadn’t arrived when we came out, so we just started at it, or rather, I made some aimless gestures, and Jason did the cutting. And he still wasn’t there. I figured in the back of my mind that he’d met up with a friend, or got distracted at the coffeeshop, although admittedly neither of these things are very much like him.

When I was done, I took a look at my phone and saw that I’d missed a call from “Private” — 99% of the time, that’s Mom’s phone, and on a Friday afternoon, that’s likely to be Elizabeth calling to chat, or ask if the scrapbook arrived (yes, it did). But there was a voicemail, so I checked it while unlocking my bike.

“This is Officer [X] from OPD, calling about your husband. Please call me right away at [phone].”

I had to listen to it three times before I got the number right; I even called a wrong number after the first time I wrote it down. But I finally got in touch: he’d been in an accident, was at the hospital, was ok. Something about sutures. At which point things went a little blurry: I asked if he could take me to the house so I could drive to the hospital. I asked the folks at Jamie Lee if I could stow my bike there. (Yes and yes.)

When I got to the hospital, he was in a hallway, laying on a gurney (?) with gauze wrapped around his head.

So, from his point of view, it went something like this:

He was a few blocks behind me, coming down the hill fast, and was behind a truck. It turned without signaling, and after that it was a blur. The next thing he remembered was sitting up against a tree, holding his shirt to the back of his head. Someone brought him a washcloth. Then more blur, then the EMTs arrived to put him on the backboard & take him to the ER. Somebody wrapped his head, maybe a little too tight, and then he was left in the hallway.

He was not wearing his helmet.

[stifled cursing here]

He did get all cleaned up and examined pretty quickly after I arrived. Eventually they worked out that he had basically roadrash on the back of his head, less of a cut than a collection of little divots. Probably hit some gravel. The doc put four staples in to close up what he could; the nurse gave him a lot of ibuprofen and a tetanus shot.

And then we went home. Somewhat to my surprise, he wanted to go to a party we’d been invited to downtown. We walked down, and on the way, stopped at the intersection where the crash had happened. I found a couple of pieces of his sunglasses and the washcloth.
His blood was still on the roadway.

The whole thing makes me a little dizzy to think about, honestly. He was ::this:: close to something really genuinely horrible.

Today he’s in crazy pain — in addition to the head wound, he’s got a couple of massive bruises and some other roadrash. Plus of course everything is stiff and sore. But the ibuprofen seems to help, as does entertaining videos.

I’ve got some photos — the back of his head, the blood-soaked shirt, the pavement — which I may or may not post. But basically, you get the idea: wear your fucking helmet when you’re on the road. Both cyclists and motorists are traveling too fast, and there aren’t enough shared facilities, for us to be acting like Europeans, no matter how much we want to.

PS: the bike was fine. As in, you’d never know anything had happened. It’s kind of freaky, actually: was he teleported off of the bike?!