this is the before picture:

people who’ve known me for a while will have heard the story of “the day jen decided to start gardening”. shortly after i’d moved back to boston, i found myself unemployed, up early one morning with nothing to do and contemplating my new back yard. having my own back yard was a novelty to me, having just come from 8 years spent in a shoebox of a new york apartment – i finally had an overgrown patch of earth to call my own. and by “overgrown”, i really mean junglefied. it had been sorely neglected for many years; while there was a corner of the yard that had evidence of once being a garden, there were large thickets of bamboo grass, unruly grapevines with an invasive stranglehold, and stands of weeds higher than my head. and so, as i stood there on the back porch with my coffee one unseasonably warm spring morning, surveying my newfound expanse of land and overlooking the overgrowth, i thought i’d start taking out just a few of the biggest weeds. wandering in wearing my pyjamas and slippers, i grabbed hold and started pulling. after a few short minutes, i came across a weed i’d never encountered before – it had tuberous roots, thick as fingers, that went straight down deep into the ground like underground cables. trying to pull only resulted in the roots breaking off beneath the surface, a definite no-no if you want to eradicate weeds. i had no proper gardening implements, but looking around i found a big stick… and started digging to china.

i spent 10 straight hours that day, digging up weeds, lopping back branches, and sifting through soil. i spent the entire day in the blazing sun up to my eyeballs in dirt, and by the time dusk fell, my shoulders were knotted, my face burnt, my pyjamas ruined. but i had transformed that wildly tangled eyesore into a square of beautifully groomed and prepared soil, with nothing but my stick and brute force. it was (and remains) one of the most satisfying things i’ve ever undertaken.

that summer, my garden became my oasis. i planted vegetables, flowers and herbs – i still remember the layout, where the snapdragons and sunflowers were staked along the fence, the thick bumper crops of basil and tomatoes that i gave away to friends and neighbours in brown paper bags, the exuberant orange daylilies that edged the perimeter. on my way home from work in the afternoons, i’d stop off for a six pack of sam adams and a newspaper. let the dog out to roll around on the lawn, set up the armchair in the sun, turn on the radio, and read the paper while nursing my beer and listening to music backed by the soft chug-chug-chug of the sprinkler. i tenderly nurtured those small green shoots, watched with pride as they grew bigger and stronger, and silently mourned as the blooms faded and fell. years after i’d long-since moved from that apartment, i’d find myself wondering if new tenants had kept it up, or even noticed the care and attention i’d invested for so long.

this is my second garden, and while it doesn’t hold a candle to the size of my first, i found myself out in my pyjamas last saturday, hacking away with a small pair of pruners and pulling down giant swathes of creeper. lots more work to do, but it’s a start:

parlour steps – the garden

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so after two long and painful weeks, i am back online.  i also now hate virgin media with the intensity of a thousand suns, but that’s another story.

how’s everything been going in the interim?  well the move has turned into one of the worst-planned-and-executed operations since napoleon’s waterloo.  however we’re now fully here, sans sofa and a few other essential items.  up until a few days ago, the place was chaos – thanks to the determined efforts of j, it is now a slightly more refined chaos. here’s a peek.

the kitchen:

the lounge (and air mattress we’re sitting on in lieu of a couch)

the hideous orange hallway (why??!)

the peculiar toilet/utility room (i *hate* when they do stuff like this, in a effort to appeal to sharers)

the spare bedroom, cute husband (and icky drapes)

the “master” bedroom with soon-to-be-replaced velvet curtains

the bathroom

the decked patio

the in-need-of-overhaul garden

still needs a lot of work and cleaning.

i’m absolutely run down, falling apart at the seams exhausted.  in addition to the move and between-two-apartments limbo, i’ve been working like crazy (late even! and i never stay late!), and running like mad.  i’m now rather worried, as i’m suffering some sort of painful hip muscle strain and pretty sure i’ve got a stress fracture happening in my foot (which i’m ignoring).  only 2 weeks until the marathon, and i’d be devastated if i couldn’t finish it, so i’m stressing – trying to rest *and* maintain my conditioning.  i just feel run into the ground, like a could take a long nap at any given point during the day.

so i’ve been coming home late, running, eating and falling into bed.  then last weekend, a girls weekend in brighton with my heavily pregnant friend tonia…

and j’s birthday on the sunday…

… the sunday which also happened to be mother’s day in the u.s., and which i missed.  guilt.  also, a sad indicator of how reliant i am on those little email pop-up reminders and other internet-based cues, none of which i had access to. also a strong indicator of how very fried i’ve been.  so happy belated to my mum and my two sisters (one of which is due with her second little boy quite soon!) and my stepmom  i’m so sorry i missed telling you what fantastic mothers you’ve been, and how much i love you all.

so that’s what’s been up with me… what’s been up with all of you?

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just to say

a) we’re sort-of kind-of moved, and it was awful

b) in the 21st century it apparently still takes 2 frikken weeks to get internet set up (where are my flying cars?)

c) i’m going through serious connectivity withdrawals (what’s this strange shaking?)

d) i’m really liking our new place and can’t wait to regale you with photos and ikea stories

i miss you my darlings!  til then, big kisses.

***mwah!***

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life is pretty crazy at the moment.  i’m acting up into my boss’s position – which means i’m suddenly managing a whole team with year-end deadlines to meet this week.  we’re moving this weekend – with no boxes, no preparation, and no time to pack.  oh, and in between all that, i’m in the last big weeks of my marathon training, with a 20 mile run scheduled for saturday.

so, the past two weeks i’ve been working late, coming home, going running for an hour or two, trying to pack, then falling into bed.  fun.

it’s madness, and i’m knackered – physically and mentally worn *out*.  in between, i’m feeling stressed, excited and melancholy all at once.

so: if all goes well, you may hear from me on monday.

if not, send out a search party.

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i’m in love with maru the cat. mostly because he does all the same kinds of silly things zeke does, but that i can never seem to capture on camera.

here are a few classic maru videos.

zeke also likes to hop into the recycling container

or any empty box

and hide under the covers.

he’s not as cute as maru though

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we’re moving again.

change stirs up so many emotions for me – i get far too attached to people, places and stuff, yet feel a constant compulsion to wrench myself away from all those things i care about most.  i’ve got friends strewn in far flung places, my family an ocean away.  i’ve got boxes of art, books, mementos and items of priceless sentimental value in random damp basements in multiple cities.  moldering, waiting for my life to reform in some semblance of stability.  i often wonder when/if i’ll ever actually wake somewhere and see my photos on my walls, my books on my shelves.  when/if i’ll ever be back on the same continent as my family.  to have things that are dear to me, be near to me.

and this flat, which i needed so badly to be a home, which i’ve grown to love in spite of its size… we’ve outgrown it now, like a too-tight skin.  this place which has been my sanctuary, will soon be just another memory.

it’s a schizophrenic life with pieces of me scattered all over the place.  i wonder if i’ll ever be able to stop mentally adjusting for time zones every time i pick up a phone.  if i’ll ever truly settle.  if i actually truly want to.  there’s the piece of me that wants nothing more than to find a place of contentment and stay put, and the piece of me that can’t wait for whatever next new thing might be around the corner.

and i’m always left longing in equal measure for the possibilities i imagine ahead, and the things i’ve left behind.  torn right down the middle of my heart.

i will miss this place.

arcade fire – burning bridges, breaking hearts

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jonno brings home a new set of electric clippers, starts taking them out of the box, testing them out.  he eyes up the cat.

jonno: “would you like to be a punk, zeke?”

zeke: *meow*

(i swear to god, they actually do “talk” to each other. funniest thing i’ve ever seen.)

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boris johnson, the buffoon mayor of london, made a campaign pledge to fund four rape crisis centres around the city – a resource sorely needed in a city where reported rapes increased by 14% last year alone, yet only 6% of all rapes result in a conviction.  just a year ago he said:

I have made it a key Manifesto pledge that I will use GLA funding to substantially increase financial support to the charity sector working with the victims.   There is currently only one Rape Crisis Centre in London – located in Zone 5.  I will provide the funding for four new Rape Crisis Centres in London, paid for by reducing spending on the Mayor’s personal press officer budget.

today he reneged on that pledge.

in related news, the cab driver who was convicted of a dozen serial rapes over 18 months, (and suspected of attacking up to 85 people back as far as 2002), was sentenced to at least 8 years today.  he went unapprehended for so long in part because the sex crimes unit of the metropolitan police was understaffed and in disarray.

yet boris outlined a new domestic violence strategy in which he says:

For any plan to work we must have the police, local authorities, community organisations, health sector and criminal justice system all working together across borough boundaries. We also need to get tougher. Tougher on the perpetrators of violence, who currently enjoy a ridiculous level of immunity, and tougher on the attitudes that condone violence against women.

no kidding boris.  tell me when you’re willing to get serious about it, instead of just paying lipservice. actions speak louder than words.

women in london deserve better.

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the government finally reports on what’s long been known: the children’s care system is a crime against children. outcomes for children taken into care are incredibly poor – they leave school with few qualifications, and no support, often turfed out of the system at age 16(!!!).  within two years, half are unemployed, nearly 20% homeless.  fully half of those under 25 in jail have been in care, as have one third of the entire prison population. nearly half have mental health needs.

as i’ve mentioned here numerous times before, it’s much the same in the states.  children “age out” of the system and end up poor, incarcerated, pregnant or on drugs.  the statistics are astounding, shameful.

these are the kids who’ve already been through more hardships in life than anyone, much less a child, should ever have to experience – parents who were unable or unwilling to care for them properly, no real family to call their own, no feeling of security, bounced around from foster home to foster home, abused, neglected, unloved, afraid… alone.

and instead of doing everything humanly possible to ensure that they are cared for, protected, educated, and supported to become successful adults, we fail them over and over and over again.  they spend their most formative years in lonely and uncertain limbo, and are then thrust into the world and expected to fly.

they are falling.  the most vulnerable children and young adults are falling into the cracks and gutters of the system, of our society.  tomorrow they will fall off the front page.

how can we continue to let it happen?

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i’ve not said much about my boston bruins success (eastern conference winners, thank you very much!) for fear of *the jinx*.

but tonight begins the road to the stanley cup, i feel sure of it!  we face off against the hated habs later today.  for the first time since the lockout season, i like our chances. go bruins!

via andy, a bruins funny:

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with only seven weeks to go until my upcoming marathon, andy said last night, “it’s a form of extremism.”

jonno said, “surely you’ve proven your point after three.  why do another one?”

i had a lot of time to ponder these comments today, as i spent the better part of three hours running.  they sprang to mind towards the end of 16 miles, when my feet were hot and aching, when my face was crusted with salt, when my clothes and hair were dripping with sweat, when my ligaments were as contracted and stiff as piano wire, when my stomach had long passed the point of painfully empty, when my leg muscles were burning to quit, when i was so tired i honestly didn’t think i could continue on.

and yet i did.

this is it.  this is what lies at the core of pushing myself to extremes: it is doing that thing which i think i cannot do.  it’s not to prove a point to anyone but myself – because no one sees you when you’re at mile 13 on a training run and struggling, or limping home with a pulled muscle after just four.  no one is impressed by that.   it’s reaching that point when i want to stop because things are too hard, too scary, too overwhelming… and getting past it.  because each and every time i get beyond the limitations of my fears and doubts and exhaustion, whether at mile 6 or mile 26, feels like a triumph. i feel like i can do anything.

i feel *invincible*.  that’s worth it all.

(and let’s face it: the nice muscle cut just above the hip is pretty cool too )

the acorn – crooked legs

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cherry blossoms always remind me of you.

we walked along the common, dusk rising up around us, the deep rose purple bruising the early evening sky, the soft light of gas lamps gentling the darkness.  it had been an unseasonably warm spring day, and as we walked beneath the bower of budding branches that stretched the length of the avenue, a breeze stirred a wild blizzard of petals to shower down, enveloping us, glowing against the dark, the scented confetti adorning our hair, swirling and eddying around our feet.

it was a perfect, enchanted moment, like a scene from a movie, or perhaps a wedding.  we smiled at each other in the twilight, and i nearly reached for your hand.

air – cherry blossom girl

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a day late, but worth the wait – yesterday’s opening day marks the start of (what i predict to be) another fantastic red sox season.  teddy kennedy threw out the first pitch to new hall-of-famer and one of my personal baseball heros, jimmy rice.  the boys walked down through the stands to greet the fans on their way to the field, then bested the rays for the win.  bring on the baseball!

(photo from boston.com)

(photo from boston.com)

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marriage equality is now the law in vermont. the first to do so by legislative vote.

4 down, only 46 more to go.

edited to add: and washington d.c. voted to recognise same-sex marriages performed in other states. what a wonderful, wonderful day!

what began five years ago in massachusetts, has been slowly gathering steam. someday soon, the supreme court of the land will have to take a stance. a stance that says one of the most bone-true principles of civil rights – that separate but equal is *not* equal – applies to all citizens. that legal discrimination against people based on sexuality, violates our most cherished and oft-stated belief:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

someday soon. not today, and maybe not tomorrow. but soon.

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i must really love my husband, because i really hate flat hunting.  the hours spent sifting through thousands of internet ads, all either slick with deception (a stylish two bedroom cottage house with delightful private rear garden – great location, ideal for a professional couple!) or full of crazy.

like crazy ideas of geography. for the record: streatham is not tooting.  mitcham is not tooting.  stockwell? sorry, not tooting.

or crazy ideas of distance.  being nearly 1.5 miles from the tube station is *not* “moments away”.  nor is it “conveniently located”.

or crazy photos.  is this supposed to make me want to rent your “delightful 2 double bedroom flat in great condition, spacious and modern”?  really??!??

how about this “great size double bedroom”??

and this is supposed to show… “heaps of character”?

this is the only photo of a “2 bedroom garden flat”.  enticing, no?

this estate agent was a particularly talented photographer.  god only knows what these photos are supposed to be featuring.  someone actually waited for these to upload.

and this piece de resistance is a “stunning luxury flat”

i don’t know about you, but i’m sure stunned.

so there’s the deception and the crazy, but also the disappointment.  asking to view a particular advertised flat, but the estate agent taking you to see one you’ll “like better”… at £200 over your max budget.  getting excited about one place that ticks all the boxes and thinking you’ve secured it, only to find out there was a miscommunication and another couple had already put down a deposit.  taking a sunday afternoon off to see a place that looks lovely in the photos, but cheerless, dingy and dark in real life.

i know we’ll find a place eventually.  but it’s just such a thoroughly depressing cycle of expectation and disillusionment.  this is why i hate flat hunting.

i swear – we are never moving again.

ben kweller – my apartment

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iowa joins massachusetts and connecticut in allowing same-sex marriage.

and yesterday sweden voted overwhelmingly to recognise same-sex marriage.  they join the netherlands, belgium, spain, canada, and south africa.

the march of progress may be slow, but it is sure.

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i never really “got” april fool’s day.  it always struck me as one of those things that’s only funny if you’re 10 years old or younger – and most times, not even then.  i’m not a natural joker, and have a hard time lying convincingly, so i never really paid it much attention.  needless to say, it seems to be a big thing over here – consequently, i have repeatedly been one of those people who always gets caught out by the fake news item or prank, and feels like a dolt for the rest of the day.

so as i was going into a team meeting this morning and something uncharacteristically popped into my head, i thought i’d try my hand at pulling off an april fool’s joke of my own.  at the end of the meeting, when we got to the “any other business” item on the agenda, i cleared my throat and put on my best sombre face.

“i just wanted to let people know that i’m going to be leaving ………”

i looked across the table as my boss’ face fell in exaggerated comic slo-mo, and couldn’t contain myself.

“bwaaaaaaaaaahahahahaha!!!  april fools!!”

turns out, it’s not that funny.

(also: apparently there’s some unwritten rule that says all april fool’s jokes pranks must be perpetrated before noon.  at 12:30, i was in clear violation of the code.)

sigh.

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today is my six year anniversary of my arrival in london.

in many ways, i think i learned more about myself by getting on that plane than probably anything else i’ve ever done in my life.  charging off into a completely unknown future.  it felt like both a running away, and a running towards – what? at the time i couldn’t have said.

i know now, that that indescribable, ineffable *something*, was a self i sensed existed somewhere within, but couldn’t quite visualise, and it took throwing myself up against some hard things to begin to determine her outline.  yet while the emergence of this new self coincided with landing in new city, it wasn’t the scenery that changed so much as the internal landscape.  although i arrived lugging two heavy suitcases full of stuff, i left a whole lot of baggage behind.

“wherever you go, there you are.”  any expat or traveller will tell you how true that is.  there is something about the act of uprooting that challenges you beyond the superficial acclimatisation.  it forces you to take stock of yourself in a way few other experiences can.  it tests your ability to be independent, your ability to operate outside your comfort zone, your ability to make and maintain relationships, your ability to learn and internalise language and customs, your ability to deal with loneliness and obstacles, your ability to navigate new environments.  in short, it gets to the core of everything you know about your place in the world, and turns it upside down.  then gives it a good shake, like a snowglobe, just for fun.

the trick is not in learning to right yourself – the trick is in learning to live upside down.  and be happy in it.

because getting off the plane was just the beginning.  getting off the plane and stepping into the unknown, was actually the easiest part.

it’s taken me 6 years to learn all that, in lessons big and small.  so as i contemplate uprooting in the near future, for canada (or perhaps other parts as yet unknown), i look back and wonder: can i really do it all again?

some days it is louder than others, to be sure -  but that piece of my brain that lights up, and the pit in my stomach that leaps up into my chest like it’s cresting a rollercoaster, ring out with a resounding and definitive answer:

hellz yeah.

the prize fighter inferno – the going price for home

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i’ve had a hard time sitting down to write this.  it’s been difficult to find the words.

the fact is, i’m not really allowed to have an opinion.  i don’t live there.  last time i went to south africa, i wrote about some of the amazing contrasts that made the country so fascinating, so beautiful, so rich.  i was so looking forward to seeing more.

that was four years ago, and a lot has changed since then.  this time, i was not given the opportunity to be a dispassionate observer, to make up my own mind.  instead i was inundated with your stories about how bad things are, how broken the people, government and environment have become.

i know that violence is an ever-present reality in south africa.  i know people are scared – i have only to look at the barred houses, gated streets, and plethora of guards to see that.  things are getting worse, of that there is no doubt.  i didn’t need to hear the endless litany of murders, carjackings, and armed robberies to corroborate that.  but you’re scared, so you talk about it.  i can sympathise.

i know that the a.n.c. has faltered.  the party once lead by the great nelson mandela has in many ways become a victim of its own success – absolute power corrupts absolutely.  and there is justifiable anger that the coming elections – which will see the installation of jacob zuma (accused of rape, racketeering, and perversion of justice) as president -  are a foregone conclusion.  there is an intense loyalty to the party which brought down apartheid, and people are afraid of changing course, even when they know things are going awry.  i understand the bitter disappointment that comes when you see your countrymen voting counter to their own best interests simply out of fear.

i know that economically, things are difficult for everyone.  the crumbling infrastructure, adaptation to the business reforms and black economic empowerment initiatives, the new minimum wage standards – these are all huge challenges.  for a long time, things were very wrong, and putting them right, sometimes to the frustration of others, is not easy.  people are struggling, you are struggling, and it has hit home for you.  i can see that.

i know that all these myriad growing pains, in what is still a fledgling democracy, are tough to handle.  you don’t have to tell me.

and yet you do – you tell me all the stories of anger and fear and pent up resentment.  i taste the bitterness in your voice and sense the undercurrent of tension as account after account pours forth.  you see the country becoming lawless, corrosive and chaotic – a place you no longer understand or feel comfortable in.  it unsettles you, all this change.  and when i chime in to say that in fact, none of this is new, that these are problems that face many modern countries, that soaring crime and corrupt politicians and urban blight and failing economies are not unique to south africa and certainly have nothing to do with race, you tell me i’m naive.  yours is a version of south africa borne of hard experience and an even harder history.

and i’m not allowed to have one.  i don’t live there.  i can’t know.  which is true.  there is no rejoinder to that.  we must agree to disagree.

but it’s difficult.  i want to learn to love this country, but you make it hard.  i don’t get a chance to draw my own conclusions, to experience it on my own terms.  there is so much more to south africa than just the picture your paint, though all of that is undeniably part of it.  it’s a complex place – let me figure that out for myself.  i’m not saying anything new here -  but for all the frank (and heated) discussion we had, i never got to get that point across.

you live there.  you love your country, in spite of all its flaws. let me love it too.

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back from south africa – i have so much i want to say about the whole experience, but need to spend some time formulating my thoughts.

in the meantime, however, a few photos:

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still in south africa at the moment, but couldn’t allow this to go by without a heartfelt hat tip – curt schilling annouced his retirement today.

whatever you may think of the man’s abrasive personality, the simple story is this: few people in the history of baseball have ever played the game harder, or with more integrity, than schilling. he was quite simply, a class act sportsman, and a truly great pitcher. he will be sorely missed.

thanks for everything curt. love, sox fans everywhere.

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