Green Smells

I've come to the realization that I like green smells:

• mint
• eucalyptus
• lime
• basil
• pine/juniper
• cut grass

Pink, purple, other colored smells aren't nearly as appealing.

Why I Don't Write

I've been feeling a little guilty about neglecting my blog for the past few months. I have a million excuses:

• Insecurity - Who cares about my walking program, my excitement over cooking healthy with fresh produce from the local farmers' markets, my upcoming vacation (yet another vacation!)?
• Laziness - I've been seduced by the social networking option of throwing out a single thought with no deep analysis. No need to develop a thesis - write 140 characters and see if anyone comments!
• Narcissism - I need to have an imaginary audience when I write, and that audience has been tough to conjure lately.
• Intimidation - I have some friends who are great blog writers and seem to be able to effortlessly toss off a meaningful blog post almost daily. Reading them makes me wonder who can keep up!
  

However, I've been thinking about getting back to the blog, perhaps because anything seems more appealing than my current work deadlines. I keep telling myself that it doesn't have to be meaningful. Topics like "Embracing Your Inner Geek" are worth exploring!

I'm approaching the end of a release and hope to resume the blog postings then, if not before. I think most of my three loyal readers know what's going on in my life, but I like the thought of the blog as historical record, and the historical record currently has a big gap.

To good intentions...

Sonic Boom

Earthquakes were everywhere earlier this month: the tragedy in Italy, an earthquake shortly after in Anchorage, and friends who heard a "sonic boom" in Orange County on the same day as the Alaska earthquake.

Before all this happened, I picked up a book that's been sitting on my shelf for months, A Crack in the Edge of the World: America and the Great California Earthquake of 1906 by Simon Winchester. Much of the story is grim. There's a ripple effect where geological disturbance in one area is often followed by geological disturbance in another, and the human toll can be devastating. He presented dire evidence of escalating seismic tension in Yellowstone, which is theoretically due for a massive blow-out.

Naturally, tourists have flocked to Yellowstone in even greater droves since those scientific findings hit the press. We have a morbid fascination with disasters, to the point that we're sometimes willing to flirt with them ourselves. We've all rubbernecked at car wrecks and watched countless hours of 9/11 footage, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who would be tempted to peek out of the storm cellar to see a tornado. One of the minor disappointments of my years in California was that I didn't experience (or notice) an earthquake.

I was very proud, therefore, to experience an earthquake almost a year ago here in my non-earthquake-prone home, far from the San Andreas Fault. During a period of strange working hours, I was "working from home" and napping mid-day when I was suddenly roused by a loud noise. I leapt up, heart hammering, thinking a truck had run into the brick wall of my house, and ran outside. Nothing. No truck, no damage, no more noise.

I put it out of my mind until later than day when a friend told me there were rumors of a minor earthquake in my area. The timing fit, but my friend was skeptical when I said I'd felt such a small earthquake. But why else would I wake up? What was the noise I heard? I've been indignant about his skepticism for months now, and am always satisfied to gather more support for my earthquake experience. Winchester reported that people far away from the massive 1906 San Francisco earthquake heard loud noises similar to what I heard, and I don't think the "sonic boom" in Orange County shortly after an Alaska earthquake was a coincidence. In addition, the U.S. Geological Survey web site displayed reports of earthquake experiences from other people in my area that day.

So there, Skeptic!

God on YouTube

The Washington, DC Catholic church has started advertising on YouTube, trying to "reach people where they are" and convince them to come back to church.

Advertising and religion seem like strange bedfellows to me, but I can understand why the Catholic Church might see it as a necessity. According to a recent article I read, about 10 percent of American adults describe themselves as ex-Catholics. The article also claimed that if Ex-Catholicism were its own religion, it would be one of the nation's largest religious groups.

Apparently, ex-Catholics have become a target market for growing (Protestant) churches, and there's a small industry developing around people seeking the right church. I recently came across a site for "secret shoppers" where undercover agents rate churches on their message, service, friendliness toward newcomers, and a variety of other aspects. I don't recall reading anything about the quality of the coffee afterward, but I wouldn't be surprised!

Exploring the Neighborhood

I love working from home. Now that it's spring and starting to feel like it, I can throw the windows open and enjoy the fresh air. I can make the interminable and innumerable conference calls pleasant by either making the kitchen counters spotless or by standing on my deck with the cordless phone and catching some rays.

There's a downside - it's much harder to make the separation between work and the rest of life when you don't have that commuting boundary. But that same blending of work and everything else occasionally works in the other direction too.

Tuesdays are usually a little rough: an 11PM meeting Monday night and then a 7AM meeting Tuesday morning. By lunch this Tuesday, I needed a break, so I laced up the walking shoes and headed out with my iPod and camera.

Walking around on foot and in the daytime, I get a very different view of my neighborhood than I do whizzing past in my car. The man with a stroller in the nearby gardens. The woman grading papers on a park bench. The women volunteering their time to plant and protect seedlings. The couple having coffee. And my favorite, the guy promoting his new pizza restaurant by tossing pizza crust in the parking lot.

As I wander, I imagine these people's lives. What would it be like to have important things to do out and about in the world (instead of in an office) during daylight hours? What would it be like to have nothing particularly important to do during daylight hours? What would it be like to live in the cute little house surrounded by parklands, with big windows upstairs and a little red grill tucked onto the patio in the back?

I may not be able to answer most of those questions, but my pizza dinner that night was amazing.

Be a New Orleanian

Sometimes I feel very sheltered in my professional 9-to-5 (or -8!) world. I spend most of my day talking to people in my industry, many of them white Americans, and because I like them, I often socialize with them in the evenings.

This little world feels constricting at times, which is probably why I so frequently grab my passport and head abroad. I thrive on the differences between "there" and "here." (Aside: My recently-conceived definition of an "ugly American" is someone who leaves home and wants everything to be the same somewhere else. What a waste of time, money, and passport ink!)

I was recently reminded that you don't need a passport to find something new. In New Orleans, I was humbled and inspired by our hostess. She spoke easily of her friend the crack-addicted, call-girl-frequenting oil rig worker-cum-bouncer who lived with them for a while and took their dog on daily jaunts throughout the French Quarter. She told us about her bridesmaid, a woman who couldn't finish high school because of drugs and family issues but now owns a successful bar just off Bourbon Street. Our hostess had us in stitches reflecting on how she saw herself in an Ann Taylor-wearing, brunette transvestite with a similar name. She has the gift of acknowledging people's differences without sounding mean-spirited or judgmental.

This openness and easy acceptance of people and their foibles, regardless of profession, race, age, or education, seemed to be typical of the people we met in New Orleans. They say love is blind, but maybe what's really true is that it has its eyes wide open and accepts all traits in a person, not just the positive ones.

Although the stickers and T-shirts were created for a different purpose, I'm inspired to be more accepting, less judgmental, and just plain kinder when I see the motto, "Be a New Orleanian...wherever you are."

Rest

Every morning I swear I'm going to get more sleep, and yet here I am at 1 AM.

I have even more incentive to go to bed than normal. The bed I've been talking about about for 3 years arrived this afternoon. (I always seem to mull over large purchases for a year or more before surprising everyone who's bored by the topic and actually doing it.) I've added fresh sheets, not quite as warm as flannel but as soft... Soon I'll crawl in and pull the sheets up to my chin and drift off into blessed sleep.

In the meantime, I'm keyed up over things that can't or won't be addressed tonight. I need to let it go for a few hours.

P.S. Yes, I do realize that I've already dropped my picture-a-day effort.