Friday Links: ADHD Edition

A map of Chicago on a building in Chicago. Very Inception-y.

It's Friday!

Funny how even though I work at home and every day is basically the same (so much so that I often lose track in the summer of the day and date) that "Friday" still has a magical ring. Mostly it means we stay away from the grocery store for two days until everyone else goes back to work.

But I digress.

This week was gone in a flash, with one new writing client firing up and the HVAC in our new house winding down. Balance in all things, right?

I have felt pulled in many different directions, scattered, this week. I feel like there are things I need to get completely finished with (like processing the end of my yoga teacher training and organizing a scrapbook of sorts of our three-week roadtrip), but I cannot gather myself together enough to focus on those things. This results in some epic time-wasting on the computer.

Here are just a few of the things I found interesting in my travels around the interwebs this week. I figure if I put them here maybe A) I will remember they exist, and B) someone else might get something out of it. 

A handstand tutorial: Okay, it's not very yogic to strive for a particular asana, but I cannot help myself. In Georgia I had a bit of a handstand practice and have lost it since moving to Maryland. It is perspective-shifting to be upside down, and it makes me feel strong and centered. I have been revisiting this practice periodically and found this tutorial to work with. Good stuff.

A video on writing: Ta-Nehisi Coates is a Baltimore native who wrote and spoke so eloquently during the Baltimore riots/unrest/whatever last spring. Here he talks about his process of becoming a writer. As a writer, I find these sorts of interviews/chats tremendously helpful, especially from people I admire. I appreciate hearing about the struggle.

A better way to watch the Republican debate: Bad Lip Reading strikes again with this video of the Republican debate. I am looking forward to many of these as we slog through the next 15 months of political idiocy.

A tomato sauce recipe with no peeling of tomatoes: Grating with a box grater is the shortcut. I am not sure about this recipe for canning (and don't really love this cook), but I need to find something soon, as it is TIME TO CAN.

UPDATE: Used the box grater Saturday morning to remove tomato skins without blanching and fuss, and it worked amazingly well. Put up nine jars of tomatoes for some sunshine in the winter.

This weekend for us features standup paddleboard yoga, an Orioles game, and some housecleaning before guests arrive. What's on tap for you?

7 Things You Need To Know Before You Start Yoga

Yoga is a mystical, life-changing practice that is thousands of years old. It is also decidedly non-Western, which means that many of the common practices in a typical yoga class can be confusing. Keeping up with the Sanskrit, sutras, and chanting can be challenging enough. Here are 7 things you need to know before you start yoga.

1. Yoga pants are notoriously see-through.

If you choose to wear yoga pants, bend way over in the dressing room and take a good, long look. That unflattering dressing room light will highlight any light shining through where the sun don't shine. Better in the dressing room than on the mat in front of the rest of the class. Yoga pants are not a requirement, though. Generally, pants that allow you to move are good for yoga, with bonus point if they are slightly fitted so the teacher can see your knees to help you with alignment.

2. The only way around VPL is a thong.

I have been doing yoga off and on for at least 15 years but seriously for the last two. Just last week, I finally asked a yoga teacher how she got around VPL (visible panty line): no undies? Thong? Thong it is, especially if you are not 100% sure that your yoga pants aren't see through (hello!). In addition to eliminating the VPL issue, the butt floss action of the thong can really highlight the separate actions of each side of the pelvis in, say, Warrior I.

3. Gentlemen, peekaboo is no good.

When the weather gets warm, dudes in yoga class feel the need for a little free ballin'. Resist this urge or risk giving your yoga teacher (and the rest of the class) a sneaky flash of your down below. As the thong-answering yoga teacher above said, "That cannot be unseen." Throw those balls into a jockstrap or running shorts that will properly contain them. No one but your significant other needs a view of THAT.

4. Not everyone cleans their mat.

Many studios offer mats for your use during class. This is great because if you are just starting out you don't need to buy your own mat. However, not everyone who uses the mat uses the mat cleaner that is usually strategically placed by the mat storage. This can not only be amazingly smelly, but these mats can also harbor foot fungus, sweaty balls, and other things you wouldn't want on your face. Do yourself a favor and go to class early so you can clean your borrowed mat and give it time to dry before class begins.

5. Come to class early to shift gears.

Nothing is worse than rushing around and trying to squeeze yourself into the front row because you are late to class. Give yourself enough time so you have at least five minutes to settle into the class. For popular classes, you may need to allow more time if you don't want to be in the front row or sandwiched in a hastily-created third row. Plus, when you are late to class, you interrupt the teacher's flow, and it's rude as hell to make others move for you. Don't be rude as hell.

6. Yoga people can be assholes.

Yes, it's true. For some reason, people expect all of those who do yoga to be peaceful and nice. Not very yogic, but as with anything, there are assholes in yoga, like the jerks that eyeball your clothes or don't acknowledge your presence when you sit down next to them. Popular classes can seem clique-y, but don't sweat it. In some cases, the yoga people aren't actually being assholes; they may just be trying to center themselves before class, or they may be having a bad day. You will be able to recognize the jerks with the fancy clothes soon enough. They are the ones who wear Lululemon everywhere even when they only go to class just once a week and don't practice at home. They are on their own path, and you don't need to be near it. Namaste, bitches.

7. Seriously, child's pose or taking a break is 100% okay.

I have hurt myself muscling through a class that was too challenging for me. I have become dizzy and nearly fainted, refusing to stop in an ashtanga class that completed the entire primary series in 90 minutes. This is not only dumb, but it is also dangerous. Taking a break in child's pose is probably the purest form of yoga you can do: you are actually listening to your body and doing what works for you. You are allowing yourself to be your best teacher. This is yoga, more than the handstand and the fancy backbend.

Bonus #8. Yoga is a practice, not a perfect.

Even though Instagram would have you believe otherwise, not every day in yoga class is a flexible, strong wonderland of beauty. Sometimes your mind yells at you the entire time you are on the mat about how stiff you are and why can't you bend like the lady next to you and who do you think you are to even start this practice? Everyone, and I mean everyone, has days like this. It is part of the path of yoga. On these days, don't say anything to yourself that you wouldn't say to a friend who was struggling in the same way. The most beautiful part of yoga can also be the hardest thing to keep in mind: everyone is a beginner.

If you've done yoga before, what would you add to the list?

8 Reasons Why Naps Are Good For You

(no mammal naps as well as a cat)

I took a nap today. Not the kind where you accidentally fall asleep on the couch and wake up 45 minutes later, stiff in the neck and crusty in the temperament, unrested and more tired than you were when you started.

I planned this nap.

I took off my bra. It was pantsless. I went to bed. There may have been drooling, and there was absolutely dreaming. This nap was no accident, and it was glorious.

I recognize that even writing this may perpetuate the notion of the lazy freelance writer, but exactly the opposite. I had been up since six, meeting deadlines, working on my food blog, researching gluten-free bread, and editing seven blogs for submission. Then I walked the dogs, cleaned out the 'fridge, and did the dishes by hand. Right around one I went to bed with a book and let nature take its course.

I earned my nap. And even if I hadn't, guess what? Turns out, naps are actually good for you. Here are 8 reasons why.

1. Naps can counteract a bad night's sleep. Researchers found that even a 30-minute nap can mediate the stress hormones activated by a poor night of sleep.

2. Naps make you smarter. A brief nap after a lesson can help students retain the information they have just learned. Thousands of adolescents can definitely get behind this research.

3. Naps make you more alert. NASA studies prove this to be true, and who wants a sleepy astronaut?

4. Naps make you less of an asshole. Let's face it: when you're tired, you're cranky. A short nap can refresh you just enough to keep it together until cocktail hour, when you can allow alcohol to work its magic. There's no research for this. It's just true.

5. Naps are our biological imperative. Eight-five percent of mammals are polyphasic sleepers. This means that it is downright unnatural to sleep all at once. Nap like our other hairy animal friends (or Spaniards, who typically rise early, have a huge lunch, nap or rest for several hours in the afternoon, then stay up late).

6. Naps make you more creative. This may explain why so many of the artists in the American Visionary Art Museum's current exhibit are fond of naps, and also why Einstein favored an afternoon snooze. As a writer, I am merely recharging my creative batteries.

7. Naps increase productivity. Seriously. If they are good enough for Google, who invests in napping rooms and strange-looking pods that can be closed so you can ostensibly nap in the middle of a crowded room, then it's good enough for me.

8. Naps release stress. Even if you don't actually sleep, the simple act of escaping to rest relieves stress. Ask parents of toddlers; if you can get them into the bed, even without sleeping, that's a huge relief!

So maybe my nap was a little excessive today, but all you really need is 20-30 minutes. Drinking a cup of coffee before you nap can actually boost the positive effects of napping; called a "coffee nap," this is to the second decade of the 21st century what the power nap was to the 1980s. Sometimes a guided meditation or session of yoga nidra can help you to relax, even if you cannot actually sleep.

What say you? When is the last time you gave in to your baser urges and napped gloriously?

Write Like A Motherfucker And Other Writing Advice

(the tyranny of the keyboard)

I love my "job." It's in quotes not because I don't get paid for it (I do) and not because it isn't work (it is) but because for as long as I can remember I thought I would be a writer.

And technically, mostly by accident and circumstance, and also because I get paid to do it, I am a writer, and it is actually how I make my living, so it qualifies as a job. There are two things I do as a writer:

1. Mercenary writing work: This is usually referred to as freelance writing, but in my head I see myself as a mercenary sailing the seas of the internet, loyal to no one country but getting the job done for all. In a less glamorous view, this is where people pay me to write blog posts, articles, and snippets of content, or they give me ducats to read their work and polish it. Sometimes I get credit, sometimes I don't (but I still post some of it to my Pinterest writing page). This is how the lights stay on and the bills get paid.

2. My own writing: This is the writing that I put off and generally procrastinate about but which gives me tremendous joy (when done well) and inconsolable heartache (when the words don't come).

It is to this heartache that I address this blog. The heartache of the lazy, the lost-for-words, the plain old what-the-hell-should-I-say days. There are, fortunately, thousands who have come before me, much more famous and skilled than I will ever be (let's be honest with ourselves), who can address the very issue of how to work when the work won't come.

I get a tremendous amount of solace from the knowledge that every writer in history has struggled to write. From just planting their hind end in the chair to actually putting words on paper or computer screen to people thinking that you don't have a real job because all you do is "dink around online," everything about writing is challenging. It is a beautiful thing that in this land of struggle there are kindred spirits, brilliant writers and artists, many of whom even in the midst of a crisis of writer's block proportions come to the same conclusion.

Write like a motherfucker.

While I am actually not a huge fan of Cheryl Strayed's, how can one argue with this?

“Writing is hard for every last one of us… Coal mining is harder. Do you think miners stand around all day talking about how hard it is to mine for coal? They do not. They simply dig.”

Another person I turn to frequently when the rock echoes at the bottom of the well is Chuck Close. He is an artist whose work has stayed with me, in large part because of the workman-like manner in which he constructs his pieces. He takes photographs of faces, and then, in an art-school-type way, enlarges them to huge proportions using a grid drawn on an enormous canvas (think 10'x10' portraits). The grid lines remain on the work; he doesn't erase them or attempt to cover them. This workman's dedication to The Job rings through one of the most profound pieces of advice on creativity that I have ever heard (or followed):

"Inspiration is for amateurs — the rest of us just show up and get to work."

Show up, get to work: that is how the creation happens.

Write the crappy piece of writing. Take the horrible picture.

Feel bad about your awful work? Good. Filled with self-doubt? Even better.

"But the problem is that bad writers tend to have the self-confidence, while the good ones tend to have self-doubt." 

Charles Bukowski knows a thing about self-doubt (and a good bit of self-loathing, I'll warrant). If you can somehow manage to show up anyway, to go to work, to dig the mine, then the work is its own reward. And if the vein goes away or the levy runs dry?

Back to Chuck Close:

"...the most interesting thing is to back yourself into your own corner where no one else’s answers will fit. You will somehow have to come up with your own personal solutions to this problem that you have set for yourself because no one else’s answers are applicable."

Back yourself into a corner and figure that shit out. Be honest in your writing in a way that is true to your own voice and where you come from and things will happen. If it feels fake, it is. If it feels true, it is (for you).

But above all, sit down, every day, and write.

Write like a motherfucker.

I share this advice when I most need to hear it, when my work is taking a turn for the better or the worse, when it is time for rubber and road to become acquainted and the mind is willing but the flesh is weak.

I share it because writing is lonely work that millions of people do (to the tune of a white-noisy two million blog posts a day) but no one really talks much about in person (kind of like masturbating, only way more than two million of us doing it at once).

I share it in hopes that you will add your own advice to the comments: what is your writing routine, and what do you do when the words don't come?

Free Yoga In Baltimore, Plus A Prize!

In my yoga teacher training program (and all over the Instagram, the Facebook, and the Tumblr) there has been a conversation started about to whom yoga belongs. Who gets to do it?

If you believe most advertisements (still), it's wealthy, skinny white women in Lululemon, attending retreats in exotic locales, floating effortlessly up into handstands, or contorting their lithe bodies into pretzel-y shapes.

If you read the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, 

"The Hatha yogi should live in a secluded hut free of stones, fire, and dampness to a distance of four cubits in a country that is properly governed, virtuous, prosperous, and peaceful." 

So in other words, according to one of the most ancient, foundational yogic texts, no one in this day and age should be able to practice yoga. Who really lives in a virtuous, properly governed country?

Well, I call bullshit. The people who should practice yoga are anyone who wants to practice yoga. Young, old, skinny, fat, white, brown, rich, or poor. Stiff or bendy. Strong or puny. Injured or healthy.

The economics of yoga is where it gets tricky, but luckily, Baltimore has a plethora of free or donation-based yoga classes offered throughout the summer. Here are just a few.

Pop-Up Yoga, Sundays in July, 8 a.m.

This class is held in Robert E. Lee Park off of Falls Road just north of Northern Parkway (easy access from I-83). The class is led by Dave Martin and is located across the bridge by the riverfall.

Bentalou Rec Center, Fridays, 6 p.m. and Hunting Ridge Presbyterian Church, Sundays at 4 p.m.

This free yoga class at the rec center (222 N. Bentalou St) is just one among many free fitness options offered through Healthy West Baltimore. The Friday class is a beginner class, while the Sunday class is for more experienced yogis. The calendar may change after July 2nd, so bookmark that link for current free classes.

Yoga (or Barre), Tuesday at 6 p.m.

Brick Bodies offers a free weeknight yoga class at Pier V (711 Eastern Avenue) in partnership with Waterfront Partnership, Inc. Register on their website in the link above, and check out their other free offerings (like kayaking). This class may change based on availability of instructors, so if you are set on yoga, definitely plan ahead.

Charm City Yoga, Sunday, 8 a.m.

Charm City yoga offers a free class every Sunday at West Shore Park in the Inner Harbor (501 Light Street). Expect a flowing class, as most Charm City Yoga classes focus on vinyasa. Also offered by Waterfront Partnership, Inc.

Joint mobilization and yoga, Wednesdays, 7:15 p.m.

Taught by Adam Kantelas and held outside at Baltimore Free Farm in Hampden. Pick up some produce or tend your community garden plot at the same time!

Vinyasa (flow), Sundays, 10 a.m.

For you late(r) risers, Baltimore Free Farm also offers a 10 a.m. Sunday vinyasa class taught by Hina Ahmed. This is a pay-what-you-can class, but if times are tight bring whatever you can.

Pre-Flicks Charm City Yoga Workshop, August 6, 7 p.m.

The American Visionary Art Museum on Federal Hill offers free movies on Thursdays during the summer. Come early on August 6th for free yoga with Charm City yoga. Yogis of all levels from novice to pro are welcome. Grab a quick bite in the new cafe (and your the museum for free!), then stay for a free screening of Awakenings.

East Mt. Vernon Place Square, Saturdays, 8:30 a.m.

A free weekly, yoga class in the shadow of the monument.

While not entirely free, many Baltimore yoga studios offer community classes for $5 (Yoga on York) or $6 (Baltimore Yoga Village) or new student specials like 30 days of yoga for $30 (Yoga on York, Charm City Yoga, Baltimore Yoga Village).

Yoga is truly a practice for every body. 

But wait, you say. I don't have a mat, and these free classes require that I bring my own.

Well, friends, you are in luck. Welcome to our first inaugural giveaway. 

I love giving stuff to people. It makes me happy. I also love helping people win stuff. So a giveaway is perfect. 

So I am giving away a yoga mat.

Not just any yoga mat. This one. With a strap, delivered to your home. You win, you get a mat, you do yoga for free, everything is awesome. 

You can earn one entry for each of the following:

1. Subscribe to this lovely blog by adding your email address in the little box. When I write something, you'll get an email. If I don't, you will get no email. Simple.

2. Share this blog, and post the link in the comments. Share on Twitter, Facebook, wherever.

3. Leave me a comment and tell me about your yoga practice. Do you have one? Do you want one? 

If you do all three, you get three entries. Three chances to win. Winner will be chosen randomly, and this contest will close at midnight, EST on July 4th.  Winners do not have to live in Baltimore, but the giveaway is restricted to the U.S.

Thanks for coming along, and good luck!

Tilting At Windmills

So this past week I have had two major anxiety attacks. So major that they required a double dose of anti-anxiety meds to knock them back, and even that took twice as long as usual.

I feel like I am not meant for this world sometimes. It seems like all of the vibrations in the universe travel across the plane of existence and settle in my bones. It's too much, too overwhelming: the pain, the sadness, even the happiness sometimes. I remember cowering undeneath  a seat at a Washington Bullets game when I was young, maybe six, covering my ears and crying as everyone around me roared their approval at a come-from-behind victory.

The hate spewed online and seething below the surface of many interactions this past week in Baltimore has been unbearable. As the news about Freddie Gray unfolded, changing from weeks of peaceful protest and calls for action to two nights of violence and rioting, I scrolled Twitter obsessively.

This week, I have deleted my subscription to multiple news outlets and blocked several "rebuild Baltimore" groups on Facebook. I am contemplating deleting my Facebook page altogether and archiving my Twitter feed.

Maybe it is cowardice that forces me to take actions to protect myself, but I am really struggling to cope with what is going on in this city and the deep history of racism and discord and the massive leaps of faith it will require to change, leaps of faith that I am not ultimately sure the bulk of humanity is capable of making. Certainly not many residents in Baltimore, when many in the northern neighborhoods recite standard white privilege mantras ("I can't believe they destroy their own neighborhoods!") and in southern and western neighborhoods where crime unrelated to the unrest has seen a spike as police and National Guard forces were engaged in concentrated areas of the city.

Tilting at windmills. Spitting in the wind. Bailing out the ocean with a teaspoon.

That's how changes feels. Impossible.

I am breathing. I go to yoga. I am trying to sleep (on an air mattress with a hole that lands me hovering above the floor by the time my alarm goes off in the morning, but a mattress is coming in less than two weeks so I suck it up). I write down what I am grateful for (and there is so much), but the world seeps into my skin through my pores, and I can't stop it.

I dream nearly constantly of the ocean, a beach with the water in front of me and no sound but the wind and the waves. No people, nothing electronic, nothing, just the sand and the water and the wind. You can't take a vacation from yourself, as much as you try (my early 20s proved that to me), but I am struggling to find equilibrium in the city. I am nesting in the nearly-finished rehab, and it feels like I am building a fortress. This can't be healthy, but it feels necessary.

What do you do when it's too much?

 (as an aside, I am not writing anymore on the ways in which Baltimore needs to be fixed. I have three other blogs on the subject but just have to step back. Part 1 and part 2 are still up. For now.)

(image source)

 

 

 

 

 

Where Do We Go From Here: Part II

As I write this, Marilyn J. Mosby, one bad-ass State's Attorney General, is busy outlining the exact timeline of what happened to Freddie Gray on his 45-minute trip to jail and lining up charges against the six officers responsible for his death.

All six officers will be prosecuted with charges ranging from false imprisonment to depraved-heart murder to 2nd degree murder, and warrants have been issued for the arrests of all officers.

On several levels, these charges are revolutionary and can result not only in justice for Freddie Gray and his family but also deeper and long-lasting changes in Baltimore.

There are two specific charges that I want to address, two charges that strike at the very heart of the problem in Baltimore.

First, false imprisonment. It was widely reported by the Baltimore Police Department that Freddie Gray had a knife on him when he was arrested, and he did. A pocket knife. The same kind of knife that many people carry around daily for all-purpose type uses. This knife is entirely legal. It was closed, clipped inside his pocket, and at no time did Freddie Gray reach for it.

Officers initially said the knife was an illegal switchblade and used that to justify Freddie Gary's arrest. That the knife was legal and the officers were charged with false imprisonment signals a potential end to the too-common practice of officers stopping, searching, detaining, and arresting black men in this city for no probably cause. Walking while black, standing while black, and, in Freddie Gray's case, running while black will no longer be a reason for arrest (and abuse or death).

The second charge that gets to center mass of what needs to change in this city is depraved-heart murder, a callous disregard for human life. This occurred when Freddie Gray was shackled and not seatbelted in. This occurred when Freddie Gray asked for medical help and was rewarded with ankle shackles. This occurred when Freddie Gray took his rough ride to Central Booking. This occurred when Freddie Gray asked again for medical help. And it occurred one final time when the second prisoner in the van was processed before a now-unresponsive Freddie Gray was attended to.

#BlackLivesMatter

We shouldn't have to explain which lives we mean when we say that life matters, but the treatment of Freddie Gray clearly illustrates that Baltimore Police (and others in the city, if we are being honest), hold a depraved-heart, a callous disregard, for the life of black people in the city. This is the thing that needs to change first, or everything else is superficial.

#AllLivesMatter

As with the first part of this series, I acknowledge that hearts need to change before anything truly changes, but as hearts are changing, it is important to put into place policies and procedures that provide practical support on the ground. Today we talk about police.

Disclaimer: again, these are generalizations. There are actual people behind these numbers. It is important to look honestly, without politics or division, at the truth of what simply is in Baltimore City.

Let's understand the extremes on both sides first. 

1. Police in Baltimore City (and all over the country) have a history of targeting black men. To that end, black men make up almost 40% of the prison population in the U.S., many of them incarcerated for minor crimes that a white man would receive probation for. Which is interesting because whites are far more likely than blacks to abuse drugs.

But I digress.

The point is that black men have an historical target on their back, pursued and prosecuted with a fervor that borders on fanatical.

2. Police in Baltimore City (and all over the country) have an extraordinarily difficult job. They have to make split-second decisions that are often life-or-death. They are charged with protecting a public that frequently has no respect for the job. Just as police are accused of treating black people like animals, they are referred to as "pigs" and dehumanized as nothing more than a badge and a gun.

That being said, there are ways to repair and heal relationships between these two groups. There is a way to reconcile the pain and anguish from the past with vital and important changes in policing procedures. I suggest these as a starting point, and I recognize that some of the groundwork has truly been laid over the course of the protests and as a result of the charges made against the officers.

Point #1: Police need to live in the communities they police. While you cannot force a person to reside where they work, and there is value to separating work from home, especially in such a stressful job, officers should at least be required to reside in Baltimore City. Currently, 75% of Baltimore City police officers live outside of Baltimore City. They are not vested in their community. They may never have lived in the city. They don't understand city-specific concerns.

Understanding what people are going through is crucial in deciding how to approach each situation.

Point #2: Communities need to step up and police themselves. From the mother who got so much attention for grabbing her son and smacking him during the riots to the parents who urged their son to turn himself in (which he did, and was rewarded with a $500,000 bail), communities need to take the lead on holding themselves and their children accountable. While I can't say I agree with hitting your kid (there is a serious cognitive dissonance to hitting your kid as a response to violence), that mom saw her kid and went and got him. Her blows were probably more about fear than anger, but the point is she went and took responsibility for her child. In another instance, a local football coach recognized some of his players and went to get them. The men in the Nation of Islam stood between local shops and rioters, pleading for calm. Many in the Baltimore community, black and white, have begun to organize and call for real change, change than cannot be legislated or mandated. It must come from the people, and it must reach across race and income level. White people cannot swoop into Sandtown-Winchester and expect any change to stick (see again #1: if you don't actually live there it is difficult if not impossible to truly understand).

And make no mistake: change can't just occur in Sandtown-Winchester. The night after the riots, I stood in line for coffee and listed to a young white girl talk about how refreshing her sleep was the night before. While the city burned, police and young people were injured, and stores were looted, she slept like a baby. This clueless response to what occurred is endemic in certain parts of the city, and some deep reflection is necessary. If you slept well in Baltimore on Monday, April 27, you may be part of the problem.

Point #3: Police need better training. It needs to go deeper than physical training and learning how to shoot a gun. They need to learn about poverty. They need to learn how to communicate. And they need to be rigorously screened for any indication that they may not be able to protect and serve without bias. Current police officers need to go through screening, regardless of experience or record, and anyone who is unable to remain unbiased in their job should be immediately reassigned or given early retirement if necessary.

Point #4: Police and communities need to work together in the city on things that do not involve policing. A community project would do wonders to develop relationships and humanize each side. The reason that both sides can treat the other with disregard is because they manage to keep their distance. Working together would help communities get to know their police, and vice versa.

Ideas for positive community projects include:

*Rebuilding houses for occupation or sale (with proceeds going directly back into the community, or residents of the community offered the opportunity to purchase the houses they work on);

*Designing and creating community gardens, a place where residents in food deserts or food swamps can grow their own vegetables and a place for community gatherings; and,

*Tutoring projects or afterschool programs in the community for kids so that children can meet and get to know the officers in their lives.

It is easy to hate and fear people you don't know, and the black community has ample and justified reason to hate and fear anyone in a uniform. Taking steps forward to build trust and relationships goes a long way to begin to heal the wounds that we have made as a society over the back two centuries.

Point #5: All pending cases of police brutality need to be accelerated. There is a backlog of police brutality cases against the Baltimore City police department, some of which have been open for over a year. These people deserve answers, one way or another, and the department and the State Attorney General's office need to devote all their energy to clearing the deck and moving forward. Again, this does not erase what has happened in the past, but as long as these cases are open and unresolved, the city will have a hard time moving forward.

Point #6: What do these two phrases have in common - "the blue wall" and "snitches get stitches?" They both maintain the status quo by continuing a practice of fear, intimidation, and lies. The blue wall protects officers regardless of what happens, and the practice of intimidating potential witnesses prevents neighborhoods from feeling community and protecting themselves. They also keep each side - the police and the community - from coming together to solve any problems that exist in the community. Let's not kid ourselves - there are serious violence and drug issues in Baltimore. Planting a vegetable garden and giving a police officer sensitivity training is making a silk purse from a sow's ear and only scratches the surface of the change that needs to occur. We cannot help neighborhoods progress without working together. We cannot let real criminals and dirty cops dictate what happens in our communities.

It should be noted that the changes I suggest are not necessarily revolutionary. They may even have been attempted half-heartedly before. The difference needs to be in the execution and the longevity, and the commitment to devoting time and resources. essentially, all parties need to decide that change is worth the effort and go from there.

Please add to the conversation below. Our city is a work in progress, and it takes everyone.

(Part I of this series can be found here)

(image source)

Where Do We Go From Here: Part I

The death of Freddie Gray and the questions surrounding it are an ongoing issue that is sparking protest and violence across the city of Baltimore. While this event in Baltimore's history is far from over, I think it is important work to begin to look forward to what happens next. Marches, protests, looting, peace, and violence cannot change anything about what has already happened; Freddie Gray is no less dead, his family is no less grief-stricken.

What matters is where we go from here.

I have said it before and will say it again: real change requires a cultural shift. Once this cultural shift occurs, everything else changes.

To wit, everyone needs to care about other people's children as much as they care about their own.

We need to value the neighborhood two streets over as much as we do our own block.

"We" is defined as everyone, regardless of race and income level (because we are talking about socioeconomics here. Let's not kid ourselves and think that racism is over - take a quick peek at Twitter - but the new racism is institutionalized socioeconomic oppression. But I digress. Sort of. Not really.

It's easy to say that these things need to change, harder to change them. Everyone is an armchair quarterback, criticizing and dissecting and saying what should have been done.

NONE OF THAT MATTERS.

It is impossible to forget the legacy of violence, racism, oppression, and white supremacy in this country, but we need to move forward. We can forgive without forgetting. We can change things and honor those who came before.

Maybe a cultural shift is the only way true change will occur, but we can nudge it along with action that involves the entire community. Here's how, starting with education.

Before we begin, here's a disclaimer: These are generalizations, but they are based on research first and experience second. This is not the blathering of someone who has not done their homework, and it's not simply anecdotal (although as someone with 16 years of experience as a teacher I can certainly offer concrete examples). Feel free to offer alternate sources if you feel it's warranted.

Education

Students from low socioeconomic (SES) neighborhoods (predominantly minority but let's talk about all low-SES students) come to school not knowing how to read or sometimes even recognize letters. Many students from middle- and high-SES neighborhoods have been reading environmental print and recognize their names along with other everyday words. They may be writing. They may know the alphabet, and some may be reading many levels above kindergarten.

Based on this second group (higher-SES students), national standards have been written to require kindergartners to reach certain benchmarks prior to moving to the next grade. A student coming to school who does not recognize their name or know the alphabet is targeted for remediation. This could come in the form of additional classes or pull-out study groups.

If these students do not catch up to their peers by the 3rd grade, if they are not reading and writing on grade level, the rest of their schooling career, however long or abbreviated it may be, will be marked by extra classes for reading and math, and limited classes in the arts or PE.

So here's what happens, and we will use a young male as an example.

William comes to school as a low-SES student. He knows letters exist, but chances are good that in his neighborhood and family, there are not many books or magazines around. So although he is a curious, bright-eyed, active little boy, he tests poorly on kindergarten entrance tests and is immediately flagged for remediation.

First, he gets pulled out of regular classes when students are working on small group work, so he misses crucial information on how to work well in a group.

As the year progresses, William makes some strides forward, but not fast enough to meet the benchmarks, so he gets pulled out of his once-weekly art class and his twice-weekly PE class. Now William is in academic seatwork mode every day, all week long.

He is five. He is squirmy.

He begins to get antsy during the day, especially after lunch time. He starts to talk out in class, get up and wander around.

Suddenly, William is labeled as a behavior issue. His parents are called. They may come in, they may not come in, but they report that he is fine at home. After school he goes to a program where he runs around and then comes home and goes to sleep. This activity combined with a school day that starts at 7 a.m. and ends around 5 p.m. means there are few issues at home that aren't age appropriate (he is only five). The school repeats that William has behavior issues, and they put him on some sort of behavior monitoring system, sending William home with a red, yellow, green checklist to be signed nightly. This may or may not get signed because it may or may not get home. William is, after all, five years old.

Now William has gone from being an active, curious five-year-old entering kindergarten to meet new people and learn, to a behavior problem who is failing and may need to be held back. He gets no time out of the classroom setting and is not often working in a group because he is pulled out to drill in reading and math.

This continues, and by the time William reaches third grade, not only is he not reading fluently, but he is having trouble getting along with his peers and working in groups. He has not been able to develop any artistic talent because he has been out of those classes and there is no money for special art supplies or classes at home. His behavior has caused him to miss field trips. He hates school and thinks his teachers hate him. His parents are fed up with William, fed up with school, and don't know what to do with the continuing negativity.

Now, since William isn't a fluent reader, he is on the fast-track to dropping out and continuing the cycle of poverty.

This is a long anecdote to illustrate the path of millions of low-SES kids in our school systems. Of course some get out of the cycle of poverty, but relatively few. And newsflash: the majority of public school children are living in poverty. And the majority of school-aged children are in public school.

So what can we do? Throwing money at the problem hasn't helped. National standards haven't helped. Here's what will help.

1. Make the solution inter-generational. Parents in low-SES neighborhoods often have the same issues their children face. They may be functionally illiterate, which may prevent them from getting a job that pays a living wage. Offer parents the opportunity to come into the school to get their GED, take continuing education classes (including classes in the trades), and learn job-seeking skills. Then help parents with employment placement (team up with already-existing resources in the city or see #4 in funding options below) and offer computers, printing stations, and a quiet place for the whole family to do homework or study in the evening.

2. Implement solution #1 by offering flexible school hours. Parents who do have jobs cannot come to class during the day, and if their kids are home at night parents are faced with the choice of leaving them alone or not going to class. Schools need to adapt to the needs of their communities. If the community needs a school to function as a resource during the evening, then it should remain open.

3. As with everything, the most effective implementation of this will occur if teachers and administrators live in the community they serve. This may mean developing a teacher training program for students who are currently in high school, offering students the guarantee of a job as a teacher in their former school when they become appropriately certified. High schools can team with local community colleges to offer students who are interested dual enrollment opportunities. There are several of these types of structures already in place in Baltimore city, but making sure students and parents are aware of them is key. And because there are placement criteria and attendance criteria, this process needs to begin in middle school.

4. For #3, this means having counselors in place starting in middle school who are actually counseling students on all of the opportunities that are available to them. This includes college, trade school, travel as a part of a volunteer organization, taking a gap year that includes and internship, and other opportunities that high-SES neighborhoods have at their fingertips.

5. Middle school needs to be more effective. Counseling needs to start in middle school because that is when the decision to drop out is made.

"In high-poverty schools, if a sixth grade child attends less than 80 percent of the time, receives an unsatisfactory behavior grade in a core course, or fails math or English, there is a 75 percent chance that they will later drop out of high school — absent effective intervention."

Effective intervention includes academics that encourage exploration, lots of peer interaction and discussion (including instruction and direction on how to communicate effectively), and programs that help identify and develop a student's individual talents. Field experiences and travel into the world, even for an overnight trip out of state, can be eye-opening to students who have not been out of their neighborhood. Merciless test prep and lecture are lethal; they are neither engaging nor educational. Learning how to learn, explore, ask questions, and advocate for themselves should be the primary function of middle school. Academics can support these goals without superseding them.

So the big question: how is this funded? 

1. Immediately stop all nationally standardized testing. In Baltimore City, this means an additional $2,268,000 in the budget (or more, as the national average of per-pupil spending on standardized testing is $27 per student, and BCPS has a current enrollment of approximately 84,000 students).

2. Trim the administrative fat. School districts are notorious for top-heavy paydays for administrators who are part of the system in name only. Identify essential personnel in administration and eliminate the rest. This is a painful process, but it can be done in such a way to utilize the talents of administrators who are willing to dedicate themselves in other areas of the system.

3. Tap community resources: the people. To generalize a community and say that they aren't interested or don't have anything to offer is absurd. The hard part is identifying where people shine and helping them to share it with the school. This can be in the form of after school homework help or classes in art, music, and other enrichment areas. I am a former educator who started and ran my own accredited, non-profit school, but my daughter's high school has not asked for my assistance to volunteer in any capacity. I feel unwelcome in the school, and communication home is poor and sporadic. For a school to thrive, the community must be invested in its success.

4. Tap community resources: businesses. Administrators at each school should be tasked with developing relationships with businesses both large and small to offer internships and practical support. These relationships are not one-way streets; there are many ways in which a school can help a business. The ways in which each can benefit the other will be highly personal to each school. The school district should work to develop relationships with national companies or larger companies in the Baltimore area. Companies like Underarmour have a wide range of teaching and training opportunities, and they also have a large potential workforce.

(side note: If  Underarmour would bring manufacturing to Baltimore they could help schools implement specific training programs for design and production in the schools. This would not only offer potentially thousands of jobs to Baltimore but it would also give them the cachet of being "Made in America.")

These ideas are just the beginning, and each needs specifics and further development. They require looking at education differently, focusing more on the assets that a student and his or her family brings to the table instead of what's missing. It eliminates deficit-model thinking, involves the community surrounding the school, and promotes multiple pathways to success. It expands the borders of a student's life and helps them to see that there is more in the world.

Most importantly, it stresses that there is no "us" or "them." It is "we" working together to offer our children the support and the voice they need to be successful in the world. It is the community tailoring the school to their needs and goals, not an administration or a federal government dictating what each student learn.

Is it easy? Of course not. Nothing worth a damn comes easy, unfortunately. But progress would be steady and visible. The payoff of real empowerment is people who care about what happens to their not only themselves but also their neighbors.

Next stop: policing and housing.

Please add to the conversation below.

Updated to add: Alice Goffman: How where you live can determine your path to college — or prison

(image source)

Unless And Until: Baltimore

Unless and until all lives matter as more than a soundbite and a hashtag...

Unless and until we are so sickened by the site of assault of any kind...

Unless and until equal rights are more than a campaign slogan...

Unless and until everyone has a voice...

Unless and until it stops being, "Would you look at those people..."

Nothing will change. When someone sets a senior center on fire and burns and loots their own neighborhood, businesses owned by people they know, they feel they have nothing to lose. They are disenfranchised to the point that they don't feel like they even live in the same country that they see on TV.

Two blocks from the looting last night are million dollar homes.

Police set up in front of Camden Yards but let rioters destroy their own neighborhoods.

People of all races were dragged out of cars and beaten.

The mayor was silent for five hours, appearing only to look beaten herself and call the rioters thugs.

Please don't misunderstand: I cannot condone anything that happened last night. But my endorsement or the lack thereof is not the point.

People keep quoting MLK, to wit: "A riot is the language when people don't feel heard" (paraphrasing).

But it's more than that. Before they can open their mouths, rioters don't even feel seen. It's The Invisible Man all over again. It's black men disappearing. It's an entire race of people excommunicated from the business of life by the color of their skin. Before we judge the actions of a few (and it was only a few, in relative terms) imagine what you would do if everyday you were told you were inferior and not worth anything, both implicitly and explicitly. Chances are good you can't begin to imagine it. If you are reading this blog (and even as I am writing this blog), you have privilege that is so ingrained it doesn't even feel like privilege. It just is.

Unless and until we can pretend to put ourselves in the shoes of others for just a moment to imagine that they love their children just as much as we do...

Unless and until we are committed to the success of everyone, not as a handout, not as a hand up, but as a journey that we take side-by-side...

Unless and until we are as invested in the future of the whole country, not just a select few...

Nothing will change.

It's not a conservative vs. liberal thing. It's not Christians vs. Muslims. Or us vs. them. It is us vs. our own humanity. Are we humans? Are we separated from the animals by our compassion and ability to reason? Can we not see that this is an issue that goes beyond throwing money at a problem?

Buying a house on a block of abandoned rowhouses is not the solution.

More testing in school is not the solution.

More death and violence is not the solution.

The solution requires nothing less than a cultural shift in attitude on both sides. It almost requires a do-over, a wiping of the slate. When you burn something down, you can live in the ashes, assemble a crude structure to keep the rain off but that will probably fall down again, or build something to last.

Unless and until we get to the core, address the institutionalized nature of deeply held prejudice and remedy the wrongs on both sides, our flimsy structure will come crashing down around our ears. Maybe not in a year or five years or ten years, but maybe today. Or tonight.

We are not these riots. Are we?

(image source)

 

What's Wrong With Baltimore

So I just spent a solid 15 minutes reading this Reddit on the dirt bikes of Baltimore. Specifically, the douches who ride around in packs in the city, running red lights, popping wheelies, and intimidating drivers and pedestrians (and police).

And this past Wednesday as I drove up The Alameda near 33rd to pick up my kid from City, I looked to the left and saw two boys fighting in the door way of a church. A group of about 20 kids had formed around the two and were laughing, screaming with bloodlust, and filming with their cellphones. Nobody stopped to help, no police were around, and eventually the boy who was literally pounding the other boy just stopped, shoved him away, and the crowd dispersed.

I find myself struggling to love my city this week.

It's not because of the dirt bike gangs (the 12 o'clock boys) themselves, although I can't say that I love the idea of being pummeled by one of these dudes for daring to drive on the same road (which apparently has happened).

And it's not necessarily because of the issues surrounding the police, although it's hard to love a group which continues to systematically break the law, exhibit extreme racial bias, and then hide those who perpetrate heinous crimes.

It is because of the seeming impossibility of the problem, the hugeness and complexity of the issues underlying all of the racial, social, financial, educational, and artistic divides in the city.

The Reddit post linked a New York Times documentary on the 12 o'clock boys, and at the end of the short film, one of the people interviewed talks about how the 12 o'clock boys are free when they are riding. It's like they can escape from everything; it's deeper than just fleeing the police or breaking the law. The footage shows the gang riding through deserted streets of boarded up houses, trash flying through the air and graffiti everywhere (not "street art," just spray-painted tags on plywood, territory marked just as if the tagger had lifted a leg and pissed). In this way, leaning back on the wheels of a (sometimes stolen) dirtbike, only in this way, did the commenter feel free.

To my little middle class white girl self, it feels hopeless. It looks hopeless. I imagine that if the only way out is to fly through the streets of the city of one wheel, tossing a fuck you over your shoulder as you pass cop cars and stunned pedestrians, then you might take that way out if you are desperate enough.

In a city where snitches get stitches and old men are beaten because they ask kids to pick up a piece of trash they dropped, it's hard to feel the love. It's hard to feel free. It's hard to feel hope.

It's easy to avoid or ignore the problems of this city until it isn't. Then what? The city schools suck (especially in poorer neighborhoods), there is a cultural issue surrounding trash and litter, gentrification is taking over historic neighborhoods, causing financial hardship, the police force has no relationship with the community, and the future looks hopeless for many kids. Violence is shrugged off (the fight I witnessed had a crowd of about 20 kids, laughing and clapping and surrounding the boys), jobs are scarce and ill-paying, and graduating students (or dropouts) join their parents on the street corner.

I lived in New York City briefly in 1989, the year the term "wilding" was coined. Shortly after I moved, the city began a decades-long effort to clean up the city - of crime and also of trash. They did it by targeting drugs and guns, and now the Big Apple is one of the safest cities in the country. New York was one of the first states to decriminalize marijuana, freeing up resources to go after bigger drug issues.

New York City also chose to focus on education reform. As the largest public school system in the country with the responsibility of educating over one million kids, New York City public schools boast some of the best (and some of the worst) schools in the country. Lotteries for high-demand charter schools can decide whether or not a child gets a chance in life. The system has the largest per-pupil spending rate (nearly $20,000 per student) or any system in the country.

When Baltimore talks about improving the city, most conversations center on pleading with middle-class families to stay and addressing blight, the entire blocks of boarded up houses that turn into dens of drugs and violence.

But it's more than housing. It's more than trash. It's more than education. It's more than a new coffee shop, a safe corner.

Has anyone ever developed a relationship so deep with some of the 12 o'clock boys (or other hopeless, inner city youth who are headed towards becoming just another a stereotype) that they could ask them what they would do if they could do anything? I imagine from the very beginning as small children they realized that dreams and imaginings were not part of their lives. Dangling a $12 an hour job (if that) and a roach-filled Section 8 house in front of someone who could make  a week's salary in one hour on a street corner, then informing them that they can work this same mind-numbing job for the next 30 years when they may or may not have a pension to retire on in a neighborhood they may no longer be able to afford isn't going to cut it.

My kid is looking for a job in the next few months. She won't make much, but she knows there is value in this act of employment. She knows because she has examples, she has seen it in me and Dane and all of the people around her. She knows $12 isn't much but it's a start, and it all starts somewhere.

From the very beginning, half of the city of Baltimore isn't really considering how it starts. They are just wondering how it will all end.

It's hard to be at home with this discontent, even if it doesn't reach me directly in my small circle. I can't abide throwing away an entire population of people, and yet that's what we are doing: gentrifying from the Harbor out until we are financially, racially, and socially segregated. I don't know what the answer is. I just know that if we don't seek out solutions and go deeper than flipping some rowhomes and starting a community garden, nothing will get better. And that's what's wrong with Baltimore.

(photo source)

(also, mad love to an essay in The Baltimore Chop which prompted this blog and these thoughts.)

 

How Much Does Kindness Cost?

There is an old man in our neighborhood. He walks slowly, hunched over and using two canes. He only wears button-up, long-sleeved flannel shirts, no matter the temperature. Every day - rain, shine, snow, or sleet - he walks his even older dog across the street to the expansive, grassy playing field by the elementary school so they can both get a little fresh air, and maybe the dog can feel some grass between his toes.

In the last five months since we moved to this neighborhood, I have watched him get progressively weaker. Back in October, he used only one cane, and the sunny, surprising days of good weather gave him an almost-jaunty gait. Winter must have been hard on him, though; now he leans heavily on two, and they wobble as they take his weight. I wonder if he has anyone who takes care of him. I wonder if he would be angry or embarrassed if I stopped and offered to keep him company or to walk his dog.

I don't know why I don't try. I don't know why I think this kindness might be met with anger.

This neighborhood is filled with contradictions: young families just starting out, complete with hipster-approved sideburns and pegged jeans, and older single people on the other end of life's spectrum, winding down. Adding one cane to the mix. And then another.

A farmer's market on one corner and a 7-11 on the other. Modern, renovated rowhouses on one street and houses with porches propped up with two-by-fours on the other. A bright, sunny park that used to be a place to buy and sell drugs. A few alleys with dark corners.

I love this city. I love the little pockets of beauty and community, all 250 neighborhoods that have their own flavor and feeling.

But as I watch the old man tottering up the hill, snow-faced senior dog leading the way, I think about what really makes a place. It's the people in that place. It's the way they treat themselves, and then each other. If you ask a little kid to draw a neighborhood they might draw a circle with houses all around, or maybe the winding streets of suburbia, or maybe rectangles in a row with triangle tops like so many of Baltimore's houses. But it's the people, shoveling each other's sidewalks in the snow or holding packages or watching the house when you're out of town. If those small bits of kindness, those free gestures, don't happen, then a place is lean and spare. Penurious in a way that has nothing to do with money and everything to do with spirit.

So the next time I see him I will stop. Maybe I will pretend I am just out for a walk myself, and stop to pet his dog, or comment on the weather. We are moving into our renovated house in a few weeks, and I have already waited too long.

You Can Take The Man Out Of Prison...

On occasion and against my better judgement, I will get sucked into a television show or series. Usually they deal with cooking or apocalyptic survival, and this time is no different. I have found Utopia, a show that put 15 people on five acres and ordered them to build a new society and live there for a year. They are calling it a "social experiment," which seems to be the way to gain viewership these days, at least if they are trying to gain my viewership because I also got sucked into Love at First Sight, the one where two people are "matched by experts" and get married on the day they first clap eyes on each other (the "experts" did pretty well. Two of the three couples stayed married at the end of the experiment, but the one that did not went up in a fireball of mutual disgust and dislike bordering on hatred. But I digress).

Back to Utopia.

There's a dude on the show named Dave (well, not anymore, but that's neither here nor there.). He is a 32-year-old ex-con who was homeless prior to the show, and he began to throw tantrums nearly from the moment he arrived at the Utopia compound (eventually, he and a toothless dude from Kentucky founded the Utopian State of Freedom, a splinter group whose rules apparently include no rules except eat your weight in Oreos, chips, and ramen, and then sit around all day while everyone else gets the electricity and plumbing in order, you know, like adolescent boys. But again, I digress.).

So in the midst of all of his ramblings, Dave has brief periods of clarity where he says some very profound things (which makes me think he's a plant, but that's neither here nor there). He was talking about prison, this time in the context of an argument about food. Make no mistake - Dave may be billed as an "ex-con," but as of the limited slice of his life I witnessed (edited for content to keep the most titillating bits), there is no "ex" about this con. He has fully embraced the prison mentality and is trying to apply it to life outside, with predictable results (see comment above about Dave no longer being allowed in Utopia). In this conversation about food, Dave said that prison food (rice, beans, noodles) is the way to go. He said that he prefers prison because the rules are very clear.

And then goes on to insist the rules don't apply to him. Perhaps why he landed in prison to begin with? But I digress.

I was thinking about the prison rules we set for ourselves, the unbreakable, immovable walls we erect to structure our lives. These become a type of prison, functioning in the same way that prevented Dave from leaving prison even after he left prison. Almost like you can take the man out of prison, but you cannot take the prison out of a man.

I was thinking about how this becomes true as we get older, and wondering why we allow that to happen. When we are little, our parents insist we try new things (food, surroundings, sports, etc), even if we don't finish it we have to try. As adults, we stop trying things for the sake of trying them. With few exceptions, we find what we like, and THAT'S WHAT WE LIKE. We set these rules (This is how I am, this is what I do, this is what I am like...) and there is no deviation. And after awhile we begin to believe that all things should be this way, our way, and that's how crotchety old people are made (Get off my lawn, you kids!).

This is horribly limiting, living in prisons of our own creation. It is also horribly difficult, leaving the prison yard.

I think you just have to be determined to leave. I think you just have to scale the wall, let the concertina slash open your palms and arms if it must, and leap over to the other side. Even if it's only for a conjugal visit with the world outside the wall, every now and then it's important to be uncomfortable and challenged and new.

Which is hard if you are tired and just want things to be easy every now and again. But if you are tired from the way things are, maybe it's time to leap the fence. Maybe you are tired of the rules you set for yourself and an adventure would be just the thing.

Thoughts?

(Image)

 

I Get Around

With the exception of the big yellow school bus that picked me up at the bottom of the hill every morning and one brief east-west bus ride in New York, I had not ridden a bus in my life until I moved into Seattle, sold my ailing Accord and became a full-time, car-free bus rider for three years. A move south of the city and a pregnancy put me back in a car, and I haven't ridden a city bus since except for once with Sicily when she was five.

Until Saturday.

We planned a two-festival day, taking the car to the first one in Hampden. When we returned home for a break before heading to the next festival in Canton, we decided to park the car and Uber down to the waterfront, where parking would be scarce, hotly contested, and a serious PITA. This was our first time Uber-ing, and it was worth the $13.91 fare (which is about ten bucks cheaper than a cab). We figured we would Uber home and everything would be awesome.

Until we decided to Uber on a Saturday night at peak time when fares go up times three. So our affordable ride down turned into a $36 quote for a ride home.

Enter the city bus.

In nearly no time, and with minimal fuss, Yogi and I were installed in the comfortable back seats of a city bus, a one-bus, 30-minute ride home, pockets just $3.20 lighter (total). We got to watch the Baltimore go by and let the city worry about their shocks and struts. We found a mobile site that listed all routes and times and also found a thing that texts you when the next bus is coming to your location.

SOLD.

Now we are bus riders. Maybe not everywhere, but certainly to downtown. Maybe not all the time, but definitely when we can slow down and don't have to be any particular place.

It is pretty liberating to be able to navigate the city by bus. It is hard to explain, but somehow I feel more confident every time I do something simple like this.

I am 43 years old, and I rode the bus, and it makes me feel good.

Some will read that and think about the sheltered life I have lead, and they are to some extent absolutely correct. It's like I have been in hiding for awhile. Within the confines of everyday life I have become comfortable and that has made me unadventurous.

When Sicily was little she desperately wanted to ride the bus. So I planned an excursion to the International Farmer's Market in Dekalb county. This is about 25 miles as the crow flies, but in a car it's about an hour and 15 minutes, and by bus GOOD LORD it's a forever kind of time period that is based on late arrivals and full buses and transferring then walking and who knows what else.

We rode the bus for a couple hours, walked around the farmer's market for 15 minutes, then got back on the bus to go home. Sicily loved every minute of it.

That's kind of how I felt when we rode the bus home. I get around now, and I don't need a car. And that's liberating.

 

In Limbo

(City Forever. Honor to one who earns it.)

It's odd, living in limbo.

It's even odder that I am not tremendously upset by it. Yes, I miss having my own true space. No, I cannot find anything in my mother's kitchen. Yes, walking the dogs every day is annoying (but we need to get used to that, and so do the dogs. Right now, Winston has issues with going #2 while hooked on the leash. Bashful? Stupid? Who knows? But I digress).

But I am not particularly frantic. We need to find new digs, it's true, but with the street in front of the rental house completely torn to bits, and other options for short-term furnished rentals running at $4K+ a month, mom's house it is for now.

And as I found out yesterday, I may not be frantic, but it is a bit wearing. The city had a weird vibe yesterday, and my patience is thin. I have not done yoga in ten days  now, and that is difficult, but not living where we are supposed to be living is frustrating. The Child has found a softball team I think, but the commute to practice will be a minimum of 1 1/2 hours, without traffic. That's rough.

This is an exercise in patience? Character building?

We have plenty of character at this point. But thanks, universe.

In limbo. Waiting.

 

19 Hours

(This picture is deceptive)

19 hours.

This is how long it took for us to go from Tybee Island, Georgia to Baltimore, Maryland yesterday, and we are not in Baltimore yet.

Say what?

Sicily pointed out as our drive began to go downhill that in her time on this earth, we have had four major moves, and each move has been disastrous.

Move 1: Seattle to Georgia. All our stuff was stolen.

Move 2: Marietta to our "dream" house on 5 acres. Someone broke into our house. Stuff was stolen.

Move 3: Out of "dream" house back to the townhouse. Dane died.

So here we are, move 4: Georgia to Baltimore.

If this had not happened to us, if someone else was writing this or telling me the story, I would not believe it.

First, the cargo platform we had installed on the Cube dragged on the ground. Turns out, a Cube is pretty much only capable of carrying what you can cram into it. The guy who installed the cargo platform drove to Atlanta to pick up the correct roof rack and installed that, removing the hitch receiver. We waited for four hours in a shop with two dogs and a cat.

This was, in fact, the highlight of the move.

Minus the brief sojourn in Tybee, which was lovely. If we had not had that, I am not sure how I would have handled yesterday.

I will cut to the chase. We spent 12 hours getting to Baltimore to our rental house, where our electronic key didn't work. Called the landlord. No love. Best friend out of town, so no house there. Called and texted the landlord again. No answer. Called Nana. Woke her up. She said come on up (she lives 1 1/2 hours from Baltimore). Time: 10:25 p.m.

Hop on the highway, get 15 minutes from the house, landlord calls. Says oh-gosh-sorry-house-manager-didn't-reset-code-try-again. Turn around. Drive 15 minutes back to house. Code works. Pile into the house. Unload car.

Start feeling queasy. Start sniffing in. Realize that the house REEKS of gas. Sicily starts feeling queasy. Text landlord. Landlord says It-should-be-fine. It is patently not.

Book dog-friendly hotel, 25 minutes from rental house. At the tone the time will be: 11:44. BEEP.

Drive down to hotel. Hotel has no record of our reservation. Search, search, search. Travelocity website hold time is one hour, 15 minutes.

Did I mention that in all of this driving, the car is getting 20 miles a gallon so we have to stop every 200 miles to fill up? And that is has rained the entire trip and is currently raining?

Call Nana in tears at 1 a.m. We are coming, we say.

We of course have to stop and get gas.

Did I mention that all I had eaten at this point was jellybeans and Cheetos, plus a handful of fries?

Pulled into West Grove, PA at 2:30 in the morning. Crashed liked dead people around 3:30.

Woke up to a text this morning that there was, in fact, a gas leak. The landlord was actually very, very nice, but the house in uninhabitable at this point. So we have no place to live.

At least no one died in this move. Maybe we have broken the streak. #Perspective

But GODDAMN, universe. Really?

I can say unequivocally, though, that we have the best animals on the planet, and that my kid is the best kid in the whole wide world. And I don't care what you say. She just is. She folded her long legs into two square feet of space in the front, wrangled the dogs and the cat, never complained not even once. Seriously. At one point the absurdity of the whole situation struck us and we started laughing. What else can you do?

So this week should be interesting.