the pieces of my life

Adam doesn’t know who Rhoda Morgenstern is. I’m horrified.

Tweedle Twirp is giving me grief for not posting to this site. She needs a way to keep up on my life without actually speaking with me, so for Tweeds sake, here I am, even though I’m feeling sleepy. I know this is a common complaint, but Seattle after daylight savings is simply brutal. Dark when you wake; dark when you leave work. Tomorrow sunrise is at 6:51 a.m. and sunset at 4:53 p.m., and it’s only going to get worse. Must move to a more southern state. And no, Peter, I won’t move back to Florida.

Adam & I went to our marriage class tonight–The Aleph-Bets of Marriage–where we discussed my need for active listening. Apparently, just saying, “Hey, I stopped listening to you about five minutes ago. Can you repeat all that?” is not the most constructive way to have a conversation. The class is interesting: six couples (including our friends Alisa & Dave) lead by a social worker and a rabbi (does that sound like the beginning of a joke?). It’s raising some interesting questions–the trick is in finding the answers.

We picked out our wedding cake over the weekend. It will be chocolate with raspberry curd. We might do a sheet cake of lemon sponge cake as well, but we’re undecided on that. We also went to see the Dolphins play the Seahawks over the weekend. One of the sloppiest games I’ve ever seen and a little confusing–I had to call Peter to find out why they reversed a reversal. How did I ever watch live football before cell phones? Amazing how much I’ve grown to rely on that yellow line (and to think how much I hated it at first–thought it was distracting) and instant reply. Maybe it was the lack of beer. Husky stadium doesn’t serve any alcohol.

Abba called me at work yesterday. Threw me for a loop, as the phone registered Peter’s work number, so I assumed it was him. Luckily, I didn’t say anything sarcastic when I answered. But Abba was just calling to say hi, which was unusual, as I generally don’t hear from them much except around the holidays. I think he just checks in to make sure I haven’t scared Adam off.

Two more days till Nanowrimo starts! I was thinking of doing a thinly veiled autobiographical novel, but then I thought, what the hell, why use the veil? Although who knows. I think I’ll probably end up more or less as the main character and the rest I’ll play with–compress time, compress characters, add in a few made up folks, whatever! I’m looking forward to starting–I’m much more centered and calm when I’m writing a lot. We had a kick-off gathering at the Nite Lite last Friday that was fun. Quite a diverse group. One of the women started a Seattle e-mail group, although it’s a bit more than I can handle–it’s inundated us with e-mail, and while some of it is interesting, some of these folks are taking themselves a bit more seriously than I am, to say the least. For the moment, my novel will be titled “A Starter Life,” although I give myself the prerogative to change it many, many times.

Work has been difficult to concentrate on, as I’m waiting, waiting, waiting to figure out what I’ll do next… Patience was never one of my strong suits. If I do one thing before I leave Amazon, though, it’s to make sure everyone–I mean everyone (some editors still don’t get this)–understands the difference between fewer and less. They’ll all have to pass a test.

The following is actually over a month old, but if I’m keeping track of the wedding planning here, then I would be remiss in not posting Peter’s Chuppah News. He wrote:

CHUPPAH NEWS

Volume 1, No. 1 September 24, 2001

Well, it’s still almost seven months until the wedding, but chuppah creators Carol Brown and Hester Kapelow have already logged almost 100 hours in their pursuit of the perfect canopy. The duo have already eclipsed Leah and Rachel’s mother’s 97 hours of labor in preparing the chuppah for the girls’ weddings to Jacob (They used the same chuppah twice. Nobody really noticed because the two events were seven years apart.). However, if you recall, Methuselah was supposed to have lived over 900 years and many scholars believe that the reckoning of years in those dates was more liberal than it is today. Thus, even the old chuppah record maybe suspect.

This reporter is betting that Carol and Hester haven’t yet begun to fight (figuratively) because the first stitch has yet to be sewn. It is his estimate that after all is said and done, in excess of 250 hours will have been invested in “project chuppah.” Where might you ask did all that time without a stitch fly? You can’t have a chuppah without fabric and you can’t have fabric without a fabric store (nobody’s into weaving these days). Eighteen hours (count them) were spent traveling to and at Joanne’s Fabrics. Thirty-seven hours were spent in discussions on such topics as “what is the true nature of a tulip,” “how do you define lavender,” and should we ship it or carry it on the plane. Fortunately, the family members in Seattle will deal with the poles. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be a prayer of the project meeting its deadline. The rest of the time has been spent in constructing models and doing something with an iron. That’s all for this issue.

Next ISSUE: History of the chuppah plus an important progress report.

A sign in Bellevue Square Mall: “Absolutely, no one over the age of 13 is allowed to wear a mask.”

Ultimately, we went with the Egalitarian Hebrew and English on the ketubah. We ordered it this morning. After much thought, I figured it was bad luck to go into marriage with a religous contract (legally binding) that so blatantly misrepresented me. The one we chose is quite beautiful, Persian Columns by Micki Caspi, and it doesn’t once refer to my virginity or lack thereof.

Tulips

Met with the florist this afternoon. She’s a nice, if slightly wacky, woman. Obsessed with the Mariners (who were playing against the Yankees on the radio in the background). Her shop is new in Ballard, a small flower shop called The Plaid Dahlia, that has a small wedding chapel in the back. The chapel has two backgrounds to choose from–a Las Vegas scene or a tropical scene. My coworker Sam actually got married there a few months ago; he and his wife chose the Las Vegas background. Sam recommends her highly. We went through a whole thing about what Adam and I are envisioning, and really, I have no idea. She kept throwing out flower names, and I wasn’t sure what most of them are. In talking about the bridal bouquet and the bridesmaids’ bouquets, she asked what I thought. I shrugged and said, “Make them just like mine, but littler.” Adam said, “And Melissa’s should be littlest one of all.” She is the littlest Brown, after all. We came up with a few options, nothing too elaborate. Trying to keep the flowers really on the simple side. When she sends the bid, we’ll have a better idea of what we spoke about, because at this point, I really don’t remember.

Amos Oz

We went to hear Amos Oz lecture tonight at a local synagogue. He’s an amazing speaker. First, he spoke about his new book, The Same Sea, and then he spoke about what he calls the root of all the world problem’s today: fanaticism. He was both humorous and serious, and one of his main points was warning Americans not to become fanatical about being anti-fanatical. I heard him speak a couple of years ago at the Seattle Arts & Lectures program, but this time, I believe, the talk was geared more toward a Jewish audience, or perhaps not so much that as there’s so much more going on now than the last time he spoke. When I heard him last, there was almost peace in the Middle East. He did tell one story then that he repeated tonight. He tells how his grandmother always told him the only difference between the Jews and the Christians was the Christians believed the Messiah had already come and the Jews believe that he has yet to come. She told him, “Look, we should just let things be. One day, the Messiah will come, and he’ll settle the issue for himself. If he says, ‘Hello, it’s good to see you again,’ then the Jews will have to admit the Christians were right and apologize. If he says, ‘Hello, it’s nice to meet you,’ then the Christians will have to admit the Jews were right and apologize to us. Until then, there’s nothing to be done about it.” After the reading, I asked him to sign my copy of My Michael, which is one of my favorite books of all time. He laughed when he saw it and said, “I wrote this when I was 24. When I was 24, I thought I knew how to write from a women’s voice. Today, I wouldn’t have the chuzpah.”

Plot Ideas

Still thinking about my novel. Here are some of my ideas:

–My six months on the kibbutz. There’s a definite story in there: my going, breaking up with Matt, my experiences there. I could create conflict in there, with a romance, with the decision on whether or not to come back.

–Chronicle life at an Internet company. Again, somewhat autobiographical. Contrast work life with training for the STP, and have the conflict be the various work conflicts and the challenges of the road. Of course at the end of that one, I wouldn’t go back to the job.

–Still like the idea of a high-tech bodice ripper.

Not too crazy about any of those. I’ve got just over a week to come up with something solid.