land of palm trees

I’m back from a 4-day trip to the Bay Area (Palo Alto, to be exact) in sunny California. Okay, so it wasn’t so sunny, but there were palm trees and it was full-on spring while I was there. I was trapped under fluorescent lights most of the time, but I did have a little time to visit the Elizabeth Gamble Garden. Gorgeous! Check out my garden blog for the pictures. Spring won’t be happening in my neck of the woods for another couple of weeks, so I basked in the glory of the delphiniums and poppies and irises and wisteria and….

Earth Day on the road

I’m on a business trip to northern California today, and my whole world has been turned upside down. I got up at 4:00 in the morning—4:00!! And that was after my (beautiful adorable pesty) youngest son got up twice in the middle of the night because he wanted to watch Sponge Bob (curse that Nickelodeon!!). Flew to Philadelphia, ran across the Philly airport to make my connection in record time, then flew hours and hours to San Francisco (realizing all the while just how massive this country actually is.) Check into the hotel by noon (insecurity made me do it—I’m always afraid they’ll give my room away if I don’t get there in time.) Then off to the new office (complete with palm trees!) …

… to meet and greet for a couple of hours until I collapsed in a jet-lagged heap in my hotel:

But I discovered Whole Foods on the way back to the hotel.

Oh, how I’ve missed Whole Foods since we moved away from Boston. Whole Foods has a special place in my heart, since its early hippie days in Austin, Texas, to the time now when it seems to take over the whole of the green universe.

I got some pretty amazing enchiladas there for dinner tonight. Yes indeed, Tracy is a happy girl.

Oh, but about Earth Day. I realized it was Earth Day as I was hurtling down the 101 on the way from the San Francisco Airport heading toward Palo Alto. And then I realized that the rental car I was driving was a Prius. Was this a sign from the universe?????

My carbon footprint is ever so much smaller today. Hurrah!!

Obligatory kitty picture

This is Alec.

Also known as “Baby Cat.” Baby Cat is no baby—he’s a whopping 16 years old this year. You’d never know it, though, because he is as sprightly as a kitten sometimes.

There is something just so beautiful about a cat in the window. Why is that? Are we touched by the poignancy of watching an indoor cat look at the outdoors that he cannot reach? Or do cats and windows simply express the essence of “home” and make us feel cozy?

A warm welcome to a new job

Today, I started a new job. I’m telecommuting to a company in northern California from my office in upstate New York. What an adjustment it will be to work with coworkers three time zones away! But they made sure to make me feel very welcome my first day on the job. Look what appeared at my door!

(Okay, please excuse the chaos on my desk. I am still working in temporary digs while my office is under renovation. Well, to be honest, the chaos has nothing to do with my office. It’s me—I’m a messy-desk kind of person…)

I feel so lucky to have landed where I am! A little more than two months ago, I was spat out by a major publishing corporation. Yes, yes, I know I tried to philosophize about corporate mergers and impersonal decisions and all that, but in the end, I still felt spat out…

Anyway, this time around, unemployment has been an interesting ride. From the very beginning, I had companies approaching me—courting me and trying their hardest to get me to join their staffs. I had multiple offers, and this time I was able to choose where I wanted to go, rather than go by default to whichever company made me an offer.

And now, I’m feeling really re-energized about my career. For years, I’ve had a basic philosophical problem with the way that mainstream educational publishers (once referred to as the Big Four, now reduced to the Big Three) have to do business. Those companies are so massive that they have to win gigantic shares of the market in order to make a reasonable profit on their investments. They have to make sure that their approaches appeal to the widest possible audience.

But my personal philosophy of education doesn’t fit with that model. I’ve always believed that I was a bit of a fish out of water—that my beliefs in the way kids should be educated were somehow elitist or impractical or simply out of step. But no more. I have found a company whose philosophy matches my own. This is going to be fun!

Yarn binge

I’ve been so good lately. Since I moved away from Boston (8 months ago), I have only purchased yarn for specific projects that I planned to begin right away. My stash did not grow one teensy-weensy bit. Until Friday.

My favorite not-so-local yarn shop, Knitting Etc. in Ithaca, NY, had its spring sale this weekend. Uh-oh.

Okay, so I’ve been dying to make Brooklyn Tweed’s Hemlock Ring Blanket ever since he showed the first tantalizing photos of it.  He recommends Cascade Ecological Wool? Okay, skeins leap into bag.

Thrummed mittens. I’ve always wanted to make thrummed mittens. (Don’t you just love the sound of the words, “thrummed mittens”? Gorgeous!) Three, no four balls of Jamieson’s Shetland Heather, in a color bewilderingly called Hairst (what on earth is Hairst?) And beyond my control, they just jumped into my bag.

Oh, yes, and then there’s the pattern for the King of all Wild Things Crown by Theresa Belville, which just begged to be made from Cascade 220 (which felts so beautifully) in two luscious shades of blue. My youngest son is just the sort of lighthearted soul to wear a crown like this with aplomb! One, two skeins just appear out of nowhere into my bag.

And then I just saw some Rowan Silk Wool DK “Classic Yarn” that was so soft and such a gorgeous shade of olive green that I just had to buy it. What to make of it? Who knows! Maybe a scarf…or something. I may just keep the skeins to just run their buttery softness across my face from time to time. Who needs to make anything of them when the skeins on their own are so lovely?

My husband thinks I’m weird. Maybe he’s right.

One. More. Time.

Old Man Winter just won’t give up.

broken fingernails, aching back, sense of relief!

I used to be the kind of person who would knit and read and take time to smell the roses, but this phase of my life has just been too busy! Since I’ve been back from Boston, we’ve been working to clear out our other house—the wonderful rustic house my husband had before we were married—in preparation to rent it out.

In one sense, it was pretty easy for me to pack things up and move them out. I never really lived in the house, except for a few weeks after we left Boston and before we closed on the house we’re living in now. The house—the “hill house,” as the kids have taken to calling it—has been unoccupied for more than two years, so there was actually more cleaning to do than packing up. I’ve never seen so many cobwebs in my life! But we got the place shining clean—cleaner than I’ve ever remembered seeing it.

Once nearly everything was out, and once the new tenants arrived to move their piano in, I felt a huge wave of sadness. This was the house that my husband and I courted in. It’s where we fell in love. And though we have a lovely home now,  a place we both really love, I have a real soft spot for the hill house. It was a sanctuary away from the world, and now it’s going to be someone else’s home.

But that pleases me too. There is nothing sadder than an unloved, unlived-in house. The hill house will have laughter and love in it again, and that’s a good thing. And though we’ll still own it, and will have the option to go back to it again at some point in the future, for right now, it’s not really ours.

Down by the river, down by the banks of the river Charles…

It was the strangest feeling flying back to Boston, after seven months away. It was even stranger knowing I would have no time at all to see the city, because I was there for a few precious hours for a job interview.

I arrived at the airport, knowing exactly where to go to get a cup of tea, where to find the cleaner restroom, where to catch a cab into the city. And then when the taxi emerged from the airport, taking the exit ramp that gave me a panoramic view of the city, I actually had tears in my eyes. Not just a pang of nostalgia, but real tears. As we took the short cabride from the airport to the South End, I nearly had my nose pressed to the glass as I recognized landmarks and strained to see and absorb as much as I could…before I disappeared into a conference room for the rest of the day.

I arrived at my destination around 11:00, did the “meet and greet” thing with the people I’d spoken on the phone with, and joy of joys! They wanted to take a walk to a nearby cafe for lunch. I’d get outside, get to see a little corner of the city, get some bricks under my feet and immerse myself in a little taste of urban living once more.

For lunch, we went to the Garden of Eden cafe, a delightful cafe in a corner of the red-brick and brownstone neighborhoods of the South End. (I found this picture on the web—my gratitude and apologies to the photographer, whose name I neglected to take note of.)

I was talking business because I was there on an interview, but half of my brain was busy soaking up atmosphere. Gorgeous day with bright blue skies, warm sun, cool breeze. People out and about on the sidewalks, enjoying the beautiful weather.

On the walk back from lunch, I caught a glimpse of Holy Cross Cathedral, which I’d never had a chance to see while I was living in the Boston area. It’s quite impressive from the outside, though it’s too bad the neighborhood is so built-up around it. A little space, a little green would set off the building beautifully, but of course, space is at a real premium in a city like Boston.

And all too soon, I was back in the office building, talking business, talking, talking…. Then before I knew it, my taxi was back to whisk me back to the airport. Nose nearly pressed to the smeary glass of the cab window, trying to remember every detail, I was back at the airport in a nanosecond.

While I waited to board my flight at the airport, I kept looking around for ways to take Boston back home with me. That’s how the gift shops try to tempt you—with overpriced t-shirts, overpriced hats, overpriced mugs, overpriced everything with the name Boston written across it. But none of it tempted me. I can’t take home Boston by paying $25 for a Red Sox cap or a green “Kiss me, I’m from Boston” t-shirt. I just had to leave Boston behind and get on my plane.

Well I love that dirty water
Oh, Boston, you’re my home …

Boston-bound…for 6 hours

Tomorrow is another episode of Tracy’s Road Show ‘08 (otherwise known as my job search). I’ll be getting up insanely early to fly to Boston via Philly and arrive there mid-morning. (No such thing a quick direct flights from this corner of the Finger Lakes). Interview interview interview. Then six hours after arriving in Boston, I’ll be back on a plane home. Phew!

I haven’t been back to Boston since we left in August, and how dreadfully tantalizing that I’ll be there for a whole six hours and won’t be able to do or see a thing. I’m sure I’ll be stuck in offices and conference rooms all day, with only a glimpse of the city on my cab rides from and to Logan Airport. There isn’t even enough time for me to take the T and at least see a little bit on my walk to the station.

I’m getting to the point where I’m just ready to have a decision made and get all this waiting over with. I had a terrific meeting with a company in Baltimore two weeks ago. They went all out to make me feel welcome—they flew me to Baltimore, picked me up at the airport, had me meet everyone (and they were all so friendly and welcoming), then took me out for two really nice meals. I even stayed at the Inn at Henderson’s Wharf—a place I’d love to go back to if I end up spending more time in Baltimore. These nice folks made me a really good offer—but I was in the midst of negotiations with another company, so I couldn’t give them an immediate answer. They agreed to wait until next week.

And then a third option opened up—one I had been interested in years ago, one whose approach to educational publishing matches my own, one where a trusted former colleague now works…Now I potentially have three options to choose from!

It’s great to be so sought-after, but kind of weird, too. I hate keeping people wait, but I don’t want to make my decision until I know all the variables. I am hoping that by the end of this week—or the beginning of next—I should be able to decide and will be able to see more than a giant question mark in my future.

Fickle mind

This is the part of winter I find hardest to deal with. It is so close to spring, but just not close enough. It sometimes feels like the brass ring on a merry-go-round, which you can see but just…can’t…quite…reach.

Two days ago, it was 60 degrees here. The sun was shining, the short-sleeved t-shirts were out, and I was ready to abandon my knitting in favor of garden gloves. I felt lighter and springier and all-around wonderful.

Hee-hee-hee, said Mother Nature, and blessed us with an ice storm.

Oh well, more time for knitting, I suppose. I have no finished objects to display with pride, though. I’ve knit a few rows on my new spring hat:

I’ve finished the back of my husband’s sweater (begun in 2007. February 2007. Yes, more than a year ago.):

And I’m still stuck on the same row of my Kathryn Alexander hat:

There is a reason I haven’t been able to make much progress on my knitting projects. My fickle mind has been turned by the luscious colors and textures found here…  Hurry on spring!