breakdown blues

The delights of gardening have been well-documented here. But any illusions about the bliss of homeownership were soundly crushed this spring as we juggled planned and unplanned home projects. My mental energy was diverted from nursery decor to window replacement, from editing to A/C repair. Planned upgrades included a new cap and crown for the chimney and new windows. Unplanned “upgrades” included a new electric meter box, a new refrigerator, and a new A/C condenser. It seems the closer we get to the baby’s due date (now next week!), the quicker the succession of problems. In early May, as I recounted the fridge debacle to an overnight guest who arrived the day after the appliance’s replacement, I realized that air was blowing through the house but it wasn’t getting cooler. This week, the new condenser was installed and cool comfort restored. Predictably, a thunderstorm knocked out the internet a mere four hours later. (Ironically, as I was writing this post.) The dryer—which is older than I am—has been making funny noises (the HVAC tech volunteered that it’s probably a loose belt) and the neighborhood woodpecker has decided our wood trim is his favorite breakfast treat. So, back to gardening: At least the netting is keeping the birds, bunnies, and squirrels off my produce!

networks

In an era of online social networks, it’s easy to quickly link to half a dozen people whom you haven’t met but with whom you share a common profession, passion, or pumpkin pie recipe. Facebook allows me to keep in touch with friends across the country—in places I’ve lived and places I haven’t. But there’s still something to be said for the synergy of physical proximity.

This is often acknowledged in the context of friendship, but I’ve been surprised by how much it’s true for professional networking as well. DC feels smaller all the time. There is something valuable in “running into” the same people over and over again at different events around the city. And people seem more interested in grabbing coffee if they’ve seen you in person somewhere else first. In other words, the old job-hunting tip—move where you want to live and print a local address on your resume—still holds weight. I was thinking about this in the context of David Brooks’ recent column about the power of American networks. He says,

“ … creativity is not a solitary process. It happens within networks. It happens when talented people get together, when idea systems and mentalities merge.”

Even though it’s easy to connect with American networks without being physically in America, Brooks might argue that the local social context matters, and that’s why the U.S. will continue to draw enterprising individuals:

“America hosts the right kind of networks — ones that are flexible and intense. Study after study suggests that America is one of those societies with high social trust. … The crucial fact about the new epoch is that creativity needs hubs. Information networks need junction points. The nation that can make itself the crossroads to the world will have tremendous economic and political power.”

that lie about greener grass

I’m re-reading Eugene Peterson’s A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, and there a number of worthy excerpts. Paragraphs you just want to skim again, read out loud, chew on.

One segment addresses a common lie I’ve been considering over the past year or two. I know that life is hard and that it often isn’t fair, but I still harbor the very American impulse to believe my life will continually improve in the coming weeks and months. Though the church taught me about “persecution and trials,” I’m not sure I understood that awkward conversations, miscommunication, and stressful projects would be par for the course. Course after course. Cue Peterson:

“We keep expecting things to get better somehow. And when they don’t, we whine like spoiled children who don’t get their way. We accumulate resentment that stores up in anger and erupts in violence. Convinced by the lie that what we are experiencing is unnatural, an exception, we devise ways to escape the influence of what other people do to us by getting away on a vacation as often as we can. When the vacation is over, we get back into the flow of things again, our naïveté renewed that everything is going to work out all right—only to once more be surprised, hurt, bewildered when it doesn’t.”

Okay, so we’re going on vacation (in two days!) for other reasons than to escape annoying people. But Peterson speaks effectively to the greener grass impulse. I need to parse out the difference between discontentedness and genuine hope that God will improve a relationship, provide a financial need, and heal an illness.

new rhythms

About three weeks ago, I switched to half-time at work. I’m now working remotely and putting in about 20-25 hours a week editing, abstracting, and prepping web content. And I gleefully gave back the Blackberry. So far, it’s just lovely. But I don’t take it lightly.

This change is the result of about a year of reflection in our household, six months of conversations with my supervisors, and a commitment to try our best to flourish in our fast-paced environment. We’d like to stay in the D.C. area for more than the typical two years, and that’s going to take a lot of intentionality (I know, I’m not supposed to use that word) and investing in our home and community rather than our work. I’m praying for wisdom about how to best use my “free” time and how to balance my husband’s 12-14 hour days as an attorney.

So far, it’s been filled with (in no particular order): a new church committee, a garden, a car accident (no one was hurt), unrelated car maintenance, roller coasters, splashing in the pool with some toddler friends, a little more reading, and “The Bachelorette.” Oh, and the two bridal showers. How am I doing?

dinks

It’s 2010 and we’ve officially left behind the “transition year” that was 2009. We’ve left behind the odd scraps of income, the piecing together of part-time jobs. We’ve settled into a small apartment, parked our Honda, and met our neighbors’ new dog. We live in Arlington, and we are DINKS—double-income, no kids (no dog, either). So here’s to a year of working hard, trying new recipes (tonight’s failed), hosting new friends, and enjoying the city. And each other.

the (non)writing life

The past couple of weeks I’ve been thinking about writing, and why I don’t do much of it. There’s the “I’ve developed A.D.D.” theory—more on that later, when I can focus and explain—and the excuse that my editing and research at work (always due asap) doesn’t leave me with enough intellectual energy to spit anything else out at the end of the day. These two excuses are linked, of course.

A recent New York Times article explored why good writers often aren’t good conversationalists or speakers. Arthur Krystal recounts watching an interview on TV with Vladimir Nabokov:

"But wait! What’s that Nabokov’s doing with his hands? He’s turning over index cards. He’s glancing at notes. He’s reading. Fluent in three languages, he relies on prefabricated responses to talk about his work. Am I disappointed? I am at first, but then I think: writers don’t have to be brilliant conversationalists; it’s not their job to be smart except, of course, when they write."

I’m a big conversationalist, so I wonder if the flip side might also be true—do extroverts who love to talk have a harder time writing well? Writing requires discipline, regardless of your temperament, but perhaps those in “blah blah blah” mode need an extra nudge.

fall-ing

September is determined to put an end to summer. There was a nip-in-the-air when the local kids went back to school, and I cheerfully donned a jacket and scarf for the morning commute. Fall has always been my favorite season, and if it comes early that is fine by me. With it comes the realization that we are still here in Arlington. We’ve survived an entire season (both real and metaphorical) and we really live here now. There will be only two Saturday football games – not six or seven. Wes won’t have law school classes to attend or exams to take. I won’t change jobs, as I’ve done every year to mimic the academic calendar. There will still be fellowship groups and potlucks and dinner parties. Yet all the faces will change.

This reflection on late summer from a former college newspaper colleague (I really recommend his blog!) helped me bid summer farewell. But I’m still looking for a perfect tomato.

workaholism: the way we live now

David Brooks wrote a great column today on the lifestyles of people like Sonia Sotomayor—people who exhibit the essence of success in a meritocracy. Even in the middle of recounting Sotomayor’s remarkable accomplishments, Brooks says, “Her biographers paint a picture of a life now that is frantically busy, fulfilling and often aloof … It’s the story of people in a meritocracy that gets more purified and competitive by the year, with the time demands growing more and more insistent.”

He goes on to say, “These profiles give an authentic glimpse of a style of life that hasn’t yet been captured by a novel or a movie—the subtle blend of high-achiever successes, trade-offs and deep commitments to others. In the profiles, you see the intoxicating lure of work, which provides an organizing purpose and identity.”

The column clearly describes what this whole town is about: work. And finding your identity in your work. Brooks seems concerned, but doesn’t offer an antidote or a deeper analysis about what workaholism means for society. (Maybe it was that darn word count limit!) And I’m curious about his contention that it hasn’t been “captured by a novel or a movie.” Are there movies and novels out there that do capture it? I’ll have to think about this one. It’s possible there isn’t … because showing a modern politician, businessperson, or journalist checking their Blackberry just isn’t that entertaining.