The Perfect Saturday actually starts Friday night, with a relatively early bedtime.  Going to bed shortly after 10 p.m. allows for “sleeping in” on Saturday, waking up without any kind of alarm around 7 a.m., up and about by 7:30.

While Mark retreats with his cereal to the office to look at cartoons on his computer, I go outside.  Inhale warm-but-not-yet-hot air and look around.  My little paradise:  potted plants – right on the front stoop a hydrangea which thanks to acidic fertilizer still blooms blue, violets that hang on despite the heat, along the driveway the yellow rose, the lavender, some other blue-flowering plant with a really weird name, and a dianthus which by now only grows leaves, vigorously though.  On the other side of  the driveway an oleander – I’ve wanted one for so long! :)  – whose buds are almost open, another dianthus, a catmint, and several geranium plants.  Along the house, in the ground, are impatiens, and sweet woodruff.  And a resident toad who lives by the planter on the other side of the front stoop.  In the backyard another rosebush:

All of this needs to be inspected, admired, watered, and generally tended to.   And pictures taken of.  Daily, if possible.

So, that’s where the first hour or so of my day goes.  Next:  a cup of Blackberry Sage tea.  Minor housekeeping: litter boxes, dishes, some laundry, etc.

While I am outside, I see that the car is in somewhat desperate need of being washed and waxed.  Mark offers to go do that while I retreat back into the house to take a shower. 

Once he returns, Mark and I contemplate what to do with the deliciously young day.  Farmer’s Market!  Aggieville!  And it’s not even 10 a.m.

Even though it’s only mid-morning, Mary has only two pies left – out of 26!  We take the last two, and another jar of honey, pick up two beautiful flower bouquets from another vendor, and head home.  Once the flowers are in vases, we go back into town, heading for Aggieville this time.  Bookstore!  Krystallos!  Coffeeshop!

I have a very limiting taste for clothes – I prefer natural fiber, preferably black, pants have to be wide-leg, skirts longer rather than shorter, tops/shirts loose and long-sleeve, jewelry on the dainty side because anything bigger than dainty looks klutzy on me.  It is not often that I find clothes I like and am willing to spend money on.  To make a long story short (the long story would involve accepting Mark’s offer to drive back home to get the 10% off coupon that we ended up not needing because they gave us 10% off just for spending over $100):  at Krystallos, we found the perfect outfit for me: black pants, bottle-green top, necklace.   Not only gratitude for having found a good outfit but also (almost more importantly) for Mark’s good job, my piano studio, normally frugal living which allows us to occasionally splurge like this.

It already was a very good morning.  

On to the Dusty Bookshelf, just to browse, and perhaps look for “Infinite Jest”, a book Mark has heard and read about but wants to look at before buying.  They didn’t have it but we found “A Beautiful Mind” which I had neither read nor seen.  Looking forward to reading it.  Just from peeking inside, I have already learned that Princeton was settled by Shakers.  Didn’t know that.

Across the street is Radina’s Coffeehouse.  It was getting close to noon and because we had had a fairly early breakfast we were getting hungry for lunch; didn’t really want to indulge in coffee/smoothie and something sweet, so we just picked up two scones, for dessert at home.

And so The Perfect Saturday continues. 

Lunch at home (thanks, Mark, for the pastrami sandwich) ~ strawberry-chocolate-chip scone for dessert  ~  fiddling around, cleaning up a bit (thank God for dishwasher where we get to hide the dirty dishes)  ~  photo-op session:  trying to come up with a usable picture (of me and the piano) which we might use on my website 

~  back into town:  Hastings to look for Infinite Jest which they didn’t have (does anyone??), buy another Iain Banks book instead  ~  back to Radina’s, this time for a steamer (steamed milk with almond) and lemonade.

Life is good.

Very, very good.

perfect Sunday afternoon

Ever since we moved (back) to Manhattan at the beginning of the year, Mark and I have marveled at our weekends. 

Until this year,  we travelled 250 miles (roundtrip) every Saturday (weather permitting); first when I still lived in Manhattan and Mark still lived in Overland Park and I would come up Thu or Fri to see him for the weekend, then when I moved to Olathe and Mark moved in with me,  we travelled to Manhattan so I could teach my Saturday students.   We enjoyed the time together, we called it “Manhattan Day” and did “Manhattan” things – go to Hastings for coffee and internet, walk through Aggieville, visit Krystallos (one of my favorites shops there), go for a short walk, and so on.

We both enjoy driving, so we usually split the commute:  I would drive to Manhattan – unless it was raining; I didn’t like the way the car behaved in the rain so I let Mark do the driving then -; he would drive on the way back.  Mark had a Sprint mobile broadband card which allowed us to be online even in the car, and we made good use of that.  We often said that while we were looking forward to the day when we wouldn’t have to make that commute anymore, we did enjoy it for what it was:  a day together. 

We put a lot of miles on the car, and between the two times two hours driving plus several more hours teaching, “Manhattan Day” took up an entire day.  There was really not much else that we did on Saturdays.  I suppose we could have but it would have felt crammed, and usually we were tired by the time we got back.

Now that we are here in Manhattan, Saturdays once again belong to us – actually, not “once again” but “for the first time ever”.  For the first time, we have a real weekend, and we treat it with sacred respect:  I don’t teach on Saturdays anymore, and unless there is an event, every couple of weeks, we keep Saturdays and Sundays completely open on the calendar.

Every Saturday evening now, after a beautifully relaxed and usually quiet day, we smile at each other, and say, “… and tomorrow we get another day just like today!”

It’s not that we don’t do anything on Saturdays:  yesterday, for instance, we took our recycling to Howie’s (first time for Mark; I told him that now he’s a real Manhattanite), followed by a trip to one of the coffee shops for some lemon bread and carrot cake in the process of which we got caught up in the St. Patrick’s Day parade and general masses of people  which – even though we are not “people” people (meaning we are perfectly happy by ourselves) – we enjoyed; next to Glenn’s to drop off some materials for an upcoming concert in the process of which I ran into fellow teacher and friend Bonnie who invited Mark and me into her studio because she wanted to show me some books in the process of which we chatted and discussed and generally caught up because we hadn’t seen each other in so long; much later back home.  Lunch, some work in the garage which is still quite full of boxes, but thanks to Mark not overflowing anymore; quick trip to Eastside Market for some flowering plants; and the rest of the afternoon was spent outside, potting plants, building a temporary, make-shift fireplace from old bricks we had found in the backyard, burning some old branches the wind had thrown down.

A busy day, yet utterly relaxed and peaceful and – at home.  No more driving two hours and spending the day away from home.

Life is good.

In this case the introverts are us, me and her, Mark and Sibylle.  We are both introverted.  This may appear as many things, including shy, but it is not shy; it is introverted.  

Do you know someone who needs hours alone every day? Who loves quiet conversations about feelings or ideas, and can give a dynamite presentation to a big audience, but seems awkward in groups and maladroit at small talk? Who has to be dragged to parties and then needs the rest of the day to recuperate? Who growls or scowls or grunts or winces when accosted with pleasantries by people who are just trying to be nice?

If so, do you tell this person he is “too serious,” or ask if he is okay? Regard him as aloof, arrogant, rude? Redouble your efforts to draw him out?

If you answered yes to these questions, chances are that you have an introvert on your hands—and that you aren’t caring for him properly.

Read the rest of the article at The Atlantic, here.

In preparation for my new job, which starts tomorrow, Sibylle and I have moved from Olathe to Manhattan Kansas.  This is a return to Manhattan for her, and a new city for me.  

Our move has gone reasonably well thus far.  Using Allied to do the heavy lifting for us was expensive but ultimately well worth it.  We are both exhausted from the stress and strain of it with their help, I can only imagine what it would have been like to do this move ourselves.

We did rent a 14′ U-Haul truck and used it to empty and move the contents of the two storage lockers I had.  We were also able to load quite a few boxes from our basement on the truck.  We had freakishly good weather the Friday we loaded the U-Haul, with temperatures near 70º.  Saturday winter came back with a vengeance with snow and freezing rain.  We delayed traveling to Manhattan one day and were able to unload the truck, with the help of Manhattan friends, in just a couple of hours.

Tuesday, while I was having my last day at Argus, Sibylle stayed home while the packers from Allied did their thing.  They were there from 8:30 am until 5:30 pm, but when they left everything was boxed up and ready to go.  We packed a few things to get us through the week into the Jimmy and Lexus and moved ourselves, and our cats, to Manhattan that night.

Wednesday I returned to Olathe to supervise the loading of everything onto the truck.  Counting the driver there was a six-man crew, which made short work of the process.  By 12:30 everything was loaded and ready to go, only four hours after they arrived.

Thursday, New Year’s Day, we spent time just unwinding from the whirlwind of activity.  We did some planning of where things would go, and how we wanted to arrange the house, but mostly we tried to rest and relax knowing that Friday would bring a lot of work with it.

Allied arrived about 10:15 am on Friday and offloaded 9,780 pounds of stuff in a remarkable short period of time. With only three people, one of whom just unwrapped and freed objects in the truck, they had everything in place inside, and the garage full of boxes by 2:15 pm. Sibylle and I spent the next 10 hours unpacking and arranging and putting things away.

Saturday we had tentatively planned to return to Olathe to clean the townhouse and start painting, but both us wanted to do more here, so we stayed home instead.  Sibylle was even able to interview a prospective new student that afternoon.

All of the work, and the dust from stored boxes, has left me weakened and on the verge of a cold.  Dust gives me a runny nose and endless sneezes.  Today I’ve been tired and listless all day, with cold, or cold like, symptoms.  We did some more clean up, and took all our empty boxes outside; hopefully to be given away via craigslist.  Tonight we watched our visit movie in the new den/media room.  The kitchen is in good shape, as is our bedroom.  And the office is coming along nicely.  Perhaps most important, we have the laundry room setup now, thanks to our electrician landlord who swapped out the four-prong plug originally installed for a three-prong receptacle to work with our dryer.

The unpacking, sorting, and arranging will continue for a while, but we are moved, and more importantly, moved in.

Life is good.

Below is what Mark sent out in an email today.

All -

I am pleased and excited to be able to tell you all that I have  accepted a new position with Kansas State University.  I’ll be the  software architect for their Office of Mediated Education.  In this  case “mediated” means digital media, and the group is responsible for  a variety of web based applications including, the ksu.edu web site,  the online class room software, student registration, et cetera.  (http://ome.ksu.edu/)

Sibylle is already getting referrals for her studio, and is looking  forward to being able to teach at home again, after having been a  traveling teacher for the past year or more.

Sibylle and I are moving to Manhattan at the end of the month as I  start my new position January 5th.  Actually, since my new office is  moving to a new building that week, I’ll be working from home the  first couple of days, which is a pretty nice way to start a new job. 

I want to thank Keith, Jim, and Chad for being references for me.   Thank you guys.

My email address will stay the same, when (if) my cell phone changes  I’ll pass that out.

Our new mailing address (effective January 1, 2009) will be [blocked for security].

 
Merry Christmas to all, and Happy New Year!

Mark

For the second time this year, and under eerily similar circumstances, Mark and I witnessed a car accident.  Again, just one car shy of being actually in the accident, there was a collision just half a car ahead of us and one lane over because someone turned in front of another car.  These two cars were small/mid-size, and the one violating the other’s way hit him such that both cars spun around and ended up practically 180 degrees from where they had been going.  Which was a good thing as it allowed the momentum to continue for a few split seconds.  There was the usual terrible sound of crashing metal and glass, screeching; and having to watch the cars spin around was terrifying.  But, I think because they did spin and thus kept moving, both drivers and one passenger were able to get out of their cars the moment the cars stopped moving, visibly shaken, but unhurt.  Mark later told me that all airbags had inflated.  Without airbags, things might have been a bit different, but I suspect not too much.

Thank God no other cars were in the intersection at that moment – it took the two involved cars one entire side of the intersection to complete their circles.  Mark had immediately pulled over into the turn lane, and I was on the phone calling 911 even before the cars had stopped spinning.  Mark went over to both cars to see if anyone was hurt and once he saw that they were ok he came back.  While on the phone with 911 I looked around; there were other people, also on their cell phones, also calling 911; the dispatcher, after asking me several questions, thanked me for calling and said that they had received lots of calls about the accident already.  A gaggle of kids and teenagers came running, cell phone in hand – obviously not calling 911 but taking pictures. 

The force of the collision was enough to completely rip off the front bumper (and then some) of both cars, compress part of the engine compartment, and to pop open the trunk of one of the cars.  Fortunately, when the front of a car looks that bad, it usually means that the engine compartment absorbed much of the impact, sparing the people inside. 

After Mark’s reassurance that both drivers and one passenger were alright and finishing the call with 911, we got in our car and left.  Once we were safely in our car, I started to cry.  One of the young drivers, when he got out of his car, had looked just like Chris, one of my sons – young, tall, still a teenager - still only a kid.  Later, over dinner, I texted Chris who lives in Texas to say that I loved him.  Told him in half a sentence about the accident, and asked him to take good care of himself.   He texted back, “I always take care of myself.”  Later, he called, wanting to know whether I was ok.  He’s 19 and a good kid.  But still only a kid.

Last year I was introduced to the use of bells to announce time in European cities.  Every quarter hour the bells chime, once for quarter after, twice for half past, and three times for quarter till.  If you have any sense of the time, these quarterly chimes let you know what time it is.  On the hour, of course, the bells ring once for each hour.  (Sibylle adds:  they use two different bells, a smaller one for the quarter hours, and a larger, deeper one, for on the hour.  On the hour, you first hear four quarter bells, then the larger bell once for each hour.)

Here in the States, you only hear church bells occasionally.  In downtown Kansas City, Grace and Holy Trinity Cathedral sounds it bells every hour.  Most neighborhood churches, if they have bells, ring them only on Sunday or for special occasions.

 

View from Stiftskirche, Stuttgart Germany

When we were in Stuttgart the last Sunday of our trip, we realized that it was the annual historic monument day, and that historic sites normally closed to the public, would be open.  Just off the Königstraße in Stuttgart, is the 600 year old Stiftskirche.  We were able to climb the bell tower, all 63 meters of it – 230 steps, going round and round and round. 

Contained in the tower is a 5.2 meter diameter bell, weighing some 6 tons.  How it was ever hauled to the top of the tower is beyond me.  I was able to capture several panoramic views of the city from tower, which you can see on my Flickr site.

(Now that we are back in the States, and have more time, we hope to post some additional entries about our trip to Europe in 2008.)

On the train ride from Zürich to Stuttgart, I managed to capture two or three pictures of a large castle in southern Germany.  When we showed the pictures to Sibylle’s mom, Hannelore, she immediately recognized it and said the name, Hohentwiel.

According to Wikipedia, Hohentwiel is an ancient volcano, and the Burg, or castle, has been there since 914.  The fortress was destroyed in 1800, and is one of the largest castle ruins in Germany.  Had we known, and been prepared, we would have gotten off the train and explored it.

In America, when you make a purchase, the clerk hands you back the receipt and your change (coins and bills) all at once.  It’s an annoyance to one-handedly pick out the receipt to put it away, and then the coins, which go in my pocket, and finally fold the paper money to go in my wallet.  In Europe, all the merchants have a little tray on the counter where they put your change and receipt.  You get to pick things up and put them away yourself.  I like the European way better.

 

Having more transition time between flights, or trains, is far, far better than “just enough” time.  Our flight connection in Atlanta on our way to Zürich, was “just enough” time.  Which meant that the delay parking at the gate, and the further delay getting off the back of the plane made us nearly miss our connection.  At least one of our train connections was very tight – we had to run around the head of our incoming train to reach the track with our outgoing train.

 

Merchants in Europe, at least in Germany and Italy, close for midday, usually around 12:30.  They reopen in the afternoon, around 2:30 or 3:00.  Very few places are open past 5:30 or 6:00 in the evening.  In Germany stores are closed on Sunday.  Coming from the US, where everything all the time, it takes some planning to adapt to the different schedule.

 

The roads, particularly in the older towns, or the older parts of towns, are narrow.  There are very few small SUVs, no large SUVs, and no Pickup trucks.  There are city busses, and micro busses, and construction vehicles, which are larger.  The drivers of these bigger vehicles all manage to navigate incredible tight corners and narrow openings.  Drivers, as a general rule, are more cavalier about lanes and lane usage, but very tolerant of people needing to change lanes or cut across the flow of traffic.  I don’t think I heard a single horn sound the entire time we were gone.  Traffic is very heavy in places, and no one gets upset or aggressive.

 

In the city of Bressanone, where we spent a week, there is a Millennium Pole, celebrating that cities 1000 year anniversary.  It was erected in 1906, one-hundred-and-two years ago.

 

Restaurants, particularly the ethnic ones, present you with a small, complimentary, glass of liquor or wine either as you sit down, or after you complete your meal.  The breads served with meals is outstanding, and portions are reasonably sized.  You won’t find any “super sized” meals, nor are you expected to take home leftovers.  In fact, not finishing the portion you are presented usually generates a question about whether or not you liked the food.

 

Bicycles, walking, and public transportation rule in Europe.  The inner cities, particularly the market areas, are pedestrian only (with exceptions allowed for merchant delivery vehicles and busses), so you see hundreds of bicycles everywhere.  In addition to a huge variety of small cars, you see lots of motorcycles and scooters.  Gas was roughly $8.50 a gallon (1.45 € per liter), so fuel economy is a prime concern.  the United States would have to undergo a significant culture change to make the mass transportation employed in Europe work here.  As Americans, we are too married to our cars to be willing to use trains and busses.  Of course, when our gas prices catch up to theirs, that may change.