You Can't Go Home Again

Well, you can go home again. I mean, it's entirely possible to get in a car or on a plane and transport yourself to the geographic setting of your childhood. I think Thomas Wolfe though, meant that our childhood homes don't feel the same to us as adults that they did when we were young. 

I've been staying with my parents over the holidays in the house we moved into when I was sixteen. It started as a small lake cottage, morphed into an awkward ranch home, and when my parents' decided to make it our home, it was a mess. They've made it cozy and uniquely theirs (I call they're decorating style neo-cottage). This house is definitely home for them but it's not home for me. 

Before this place we lived in a little ranch house while I was in middle school and the first part of high school and before that we lived in the house where I was a kid: the hundred-year-old bungalow about which I could wax poetic all day. So, my idea of home can't really be one place. I have, in fact, never been back to my childhood home. That would be trespassing. "Home" for me is a series of places. It's the dollar theater on the square in Independence. It's my grandparents house in northern Michigan. It's the lobbies of every ice rink in the tri-state area. It's the suburban roads on which I learned to drive.

One of the ways I know that I cannot truly go home again is that I don't feel absolute freedom driving down Colburn Road with music blaring (then and now: Weezer). Tonight, driving back to my parents' house I found myself thinking about job prospects, putting a garden in our backyard in Indiana and what groceries we'll need when we head back at the end of the week. While I get dreamy and nostalgic remembering what it was like to be a teenager in this town, I don't miss it. I don't yearn for it. I...appreciate it. It's where, to use a terribly clinical term, my formative years happened and those will always be wonderful (if sometimes really awkward) memories. This is my long-winded way of saying that I know I can't go home again and I'm cool with that.

Ozark Foodies?

Has anyone else noticed how awesome Midwestern grocery stores are now? Perhaps grocery store isles in the rest of the country have always been great or maybe they're still drab. In any case, I've noticed something.

Whether it's because of the internet or documentaries like Food, Inc. and Forks Over Knives, general human development or the coming apocalypse, there is much more variety in grocery stores than a few years ago. When I was in high school (scary that that was 10 years ago) you would not have been able to find quinoa or farro in our neighborhood grocery store. They're not even recognized as words by my spellchecker. Produce sections have exploded with wide selections of greens and multiple varieties of mushrooms. Malcolm Gladwell might convince you it started with mustard. Whatever the reason, there is more choice in grocery stores than ever before.

I wasn't surprised when I saw these changes in the Indiana college town where I live or in the upper-middle class suburb of Kansas City where my parents live. Recently though, Boyfriend and I took a trip to the Ozarks to spend a few days with his family. We planned to make breakfast for the crew one morning and so needed to stop by a grocery store on our way. He assured me that there was a store about a half hour from his parents' house in the heart of the Ozarks. We only needed a few things: eggs, cheese, breakfast sausage, so I figured a roadside grocery store in rural Missouri would do the trick. Little did I know we were going to the new Woods. If you travel in the Ozarks frequently you might know that Woods was your basic grocery store in Sunrise Beach (staple food items, generic beer) but has recently moved down the road and made some major changes. There, in the middle of the Ozarks, (This place is the home of rustic lake homes, party boats and raunchily named bars) one can buy fresh asparagus, craft beer or a Naked smoothie.

It's up to you to decide if this is progress or sad homogenization. I, for one, probably won't complain too much about being able to pick up turkey sausage or Havarti for summer weekends at the lake. 

It's Not Like Riding a Bike

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I am dangerously close to finishing my first semester of graduate school. It has been fantastic for the most part. I've loved being in class, talking to smart people who are interested in the same things that interest me. I haven't even minded the majority of the reading. But now, now it is the end of the semester. This is the season of final papers, take-home exams, sloppy ponytails, sweats and lots of caffeine.

To be perfectly honest, I'm getting off easy. My final assignments consisted of writing a children's book for my science class (awesome), showing up for the literacy class (can do!), writing a paper for our diversity class (in progress), and doing a take-home final for math (all progressing). So, I enter finals week with only a couple things left to turn in, both of which are mostly completed.

It has not been pretty getting here. Navigating campus, going to classes, staying up late, all of these things came easy to me. I figured I hadn't been out of college long enough for it to be rough going back. But then the paper writing and the test taking happened. I suddenly had to recall information I'd learned months ago, format a paper and citations (???) all while Boyfriend, the professional student, acts like these things are innate human features.

This is my long-winded way of saying if you've recently discovered that you used to be awesome at painting/running/fly-fishing/underwater basket weaving but you're suddenly sub-par, hang in there. I'm with you. You brush up on your basket weaving while I figure out how to properly cite journal articles again. We'll meet up and compare notes.

Way Better Than Whatever the Grocery Store is Playing

Let's talk holiday music today. First of all, who else loathes (yes, loathes) hearing Christmas carols in the grocery store in mid-November? Ugh. I love festive music but, as with most things, there is a time and a place. So, since we're well into December it's Christmas music time!

I grew up listening to classic Christmas music from Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole. While that kind of thing is great (you can't really ever go wrong with Sinatra) I've got a couple offbeat favorites.

Here are some of my favorites to get in the holiday mood:

First, my most "classic" choice:
A Charlie Brown Christmas- Vince Guaraldi Trio

I probably don't need to work very hard to defend this choice. This album just sounds like Christmas, doesn't it? It strikes the perfect balance of cheerful and sentimental. Picking a favorite track would be like picking a favorite child...if I had children...and liked them all equally.

Bakenaked for the Holidays- Barenaked Ladies

This is my very favorite holiday album ever. There are classic Christmas songs, Hanukkah songs, silly adaptations of greats and quirky originals.

Best Tracks:
Elf's Lament- Smart, fun lyrics poking fun at the woes of a dead-end job. Christmas!
Hanukkah Blessings- This is just a beautiful song.
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen- My favorite Christmas carol done perfectly.
Deck the Stills- 5 words over and over and over and over. In a good way.

The Jethro Tull Christmas Album- Jethro Tull

This one is exactly what you'd expect. Flute rock for Christmas. I bet it's better than Metallica's Christmas album.

Best Tracks-
Holly Herald- Folk-y and wonderful.
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen- Seriously, it's my favorite, I love this version, too. It's acoustic and cozy.
Fire at Midnight- Makes you wish you could invite every single person you like over for cocoa.

I recommend listening to any of these in front of a fireplace while wearing fuzzy socks. I'll be listening to these holiday tunes while finishing final assignments and packing my life into boxes once again. Third move since the summer of 2010. Bring. It.