Aw. Don't pout sad punkin.
The jobby job came through, and it is exactly what I was hoping for. I am Office Manager for a veterinary practice and I've been working all nutty since early November. It's stressful trying to absorb so much in so little time, but I am absolutely loving it. Puppies, people. Near constant stream of puppies. Oh, dear lord.
We've had loads of visitors, first the lovely Bob and Tasha from Chicago, in town for the Lovecraft Film Festival in early Rocktober. There was hilarity, good eating, including awesome doughnuts from Voodoo (Doughnuts with Tang on 'em! I heart Tang.) and some serious waterfall appreciation in the Columbia Gorge. It was lovely to see friends from home.
Ms. Katie Mae dropped in for the weekend in November, which included more hilarity, more good eating, and a really beautiful hike in Forest Park on the west side of Portland.
JZ was in town to celebrate his mom's birthday and we got to grab dinner before he left, which made me a happy camper. We spent a very happy Turkey Day with John's Aunt Jackie and Uncle Marty and cousins and their kids down in Junction City. Hilarity, very good eating and Scrabble. And finally, friends Chuck and D (the trip to their wedding in summer '07 was what sold me on the Pacific Northwest and started this whole crazy move idea) came down from Seattle last weekend, and again the requisite hilarity and good eating, and then they ended up staying longer than expected when the weather turned. And, oh did it turn.
Now, I know that to the Chicago eye that looks like nothing, and when we were planning the move we scoffed at the pathetic idea of what we assumed was the puny winter Oregon would throw at us, but let me tell you something people. We were wrong. We were so very wrong. When winter comes to Oregon, it means ice. A lot of it. And getting anywhere when that happens in near impossible. Because of the hills. And the very small number of snow removal trucks. Can't drive anywhere. Which means that getting staff to and from work has been tricky, but we're limping along. Sooooo, Chuck and D couldn't leave, because they didn't have tire chains, and chains were being required on I-5. So we hunkered down and John made lasagna and football was watched and it was nice. Except for the part where I had to go to work. Booo! Stupid public transit up and running! Why can't YOU shut down like everybody else?
But the biggest thing to happen this year, the election.
We watched the returns come in at our local flamingly liberal coffee house and it was a wonderful experience being in the midst of a crowd who were all as ecstatic as we were when Keith Olbermann made the call. In the over 100 days we've been gone from the Big Windy Shoulders, I wasn't truly homesick until that moment. I wanted so much to be there, not in Grant Park, specifically, but just there. To celebrate this great moment in our country's history with the friends I love. The tears pouring down Jesse Jackson's face will be the moment I will never forget.
I got up the next morning very early for my first day of training on the job, and I took the dog for a walk while it was still dark, a light misty rain coming down, and I felt so much joy, so much certainty, so much hope for the things to come, and just....so much. I felt so much. Such a full heart.
But then there was the sadness of Proposition 8. While we were still living in Chicago, John and I watched a documentary called For The Bible Tells Me So, the story of several gay people who come from religious backgrounds and how they and their families have struggled to reconcile faith and sexuality. It's a wonderful film, very honest. It includes footage of Bishop Gene Robinson's ordination, the first openly gay person to be ordained as Bishop in the Episcopal Church, an event which was incredibly divisive in that institution. I am not a religious person. I do not believe in a personal god. But that footage moved me so deeply because it was bursting with joy and happiness and triumph, and I just don't understand. Don't they know? Don't they get that this is the fruit of inclusion? All this joy, all this wonder, everything we all felt on that Tuesday night watching Barack Obama ascend to the Presidency. Exclusion is so bitter and small and pinched. When you embrace, when you throw open your arms and you say yes, when you look beyond difference to a common humanity, and work for a common good, look what happens. Look what we can do.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment