(Bounty from the trip to the farmer's market.)
Life is starting to come into focus a little more. We did some errand running this week. Got some furniture. Had to take one of the dogs to the vet. Found the nearest Trader Joe's. Got a home phone. Made some dinner dates. I started another grad school semester. The free time is sliding away and my mind is honing in, focusing.
As I have more social experiences, I have more opportunities to match my expectations against the community scenarios that are presented. It is a different culture here. For example, we went to a "back to school" picnic at my youngest step-son's public elementary school the other night. I baked a dish from scratch, expecting when it said to bring food that this must be a potluck. I thought that we would meet is teacher, see the classrooms, maybe hear a little speech from the principal. This is what would have happened in Maine, or even southern Arizona, where I first started out teaching. When we arrived though, there was no sign of any teachers or other school staff, and no potluck table, but all of the parents were camped out on the over-irrigated lawn on blankets with picnic baskets or take-out containers of their own food, sipping on wine and beer and schmoozing it up while rock music blared over the p.a. and the kids ran around like happy little animals. There was definitely no speech from the principal, but sitting there with their wine were some famous actors and many of the minds sitting at the writing tables behind network sitcoms and Hollywood blockbusters. West L.A. is a weird place, man. It's dripping with money, which I find to be unappealing, but there is an air of irreverence and a laissez-faire attitude about structure, (school schmool, who cares abut meeting the kids' teacher? Let's have a drink), that is kind of conducive to the creative mind. And I do have one of those.
While I am on this topic of cultural expectations, those Northeasterners among you will appreciate the fact that the local NPR station seems to play mostly reggae and world music! That is just a little different from MPBN's Bach and maybe letting loose with some classic jazz on Friday nights. But you know, I prefer reggae. I'm just not used to it mixed with my Scott Simon and Nina Tottenberg. It's not all bad, just different.
Tonight I was driving home from a visit to my step-daughter in Claremont, passing over the endless miles of highway, watching the mountains, the lurid billboards and the city skyline darken against the incredibly beautiful sunset. (One benefit of smog is that it can help produce really colorful, striated sunsets. Everything really does have a positive side to it somewhere!) As I was traveling in the flowing river of other headlights and taillights I was thinking about the myriad lives that are existing all around me here. I, with all of my garden love and dirty, wood chopping hands now live in this huge, beastly city amongst all of these other people and all of the lives that they made or brought with them here. And the coyotes and the owls and the pigeons and the rats. We all live here. Before arriving I just couldn't picture it, me as part of all this. Now I feel the pull, I'm sinking into life here already. I'm glad to have this time when my head is still above water, and I can see it all fro the outside, because I can already feel how that won't last. I'll admit, I am still a little afraid. Will diving into this world make me different? Will it change me in ways that I wouldn't like now? Will that matter later?
Fears of change aside though, there have also been some immediate opportunities for affirmation of my existing skill set and experiences. The first woman that I met at the aforementioned picnic is a fellow Vermonter who went on with me to extol the virtues of Vermont living and in comparison disparage everywhere else on earth, (as all good Vermonters will do when we meet each other outside of our native homeland.) Also, it turns out that the woman who lives across the street from me is the Community Service Coordinator for the local high school, and they just inherited an overgrown plot of land and want to make a garden. Not many people can say that they have a lot of experience with that kind of thing...but for better or worse I can! Perhaps my talents will be put to use here. And as my mind turns to the future, I am dreaming big dreams for my backyard. I see a garden, I see tomatoes spilling over the pots in the driveway, I see nasturtiums and cucumbers overflowing the flower beds. I see a couple of hens eating kitchen scraps and laying eggs in the side alley. I have already begun talk to our gardener, Jose about this. (I've never had a gardener before but he came with the house and though frankly he is kind of old and I could weed circles around him, he's very sweet and methodical and he rakes the yard once a week and helps us bring in our trash cans and I'm very glad that he has a job here.) Anyway, once I get organized I'll have some garden beds up and planted in no time. (At least this is what I tell myself now.....) I wonder where I can find a wheelbarrow around here?
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