A Transplant. A Storm. A Way To Help.
You guys, I had this whole piece ready to go about the cereal. And then Sandy hit. And I just couldn’t fathom posting a bit about breakfast cereal as a wildly destructive storm was bearing down on the place I was born. My whole family was in the storm’s path and I was worried for days about them. They’re all fine now. They lost power for a few days there, but they were all safe, and their property was not destroyed. There were others, though, who suffered. Suffered huge. And I just couldn’t stop thinking about them. I couldn’t sit and write about cereal if I tried.
I’ve been working on what I want to say here for days now. It’s been a crazy two weeks of emotional ups and downs: worry, then relief…endless energy to help, then frustration with red tape… helplessness, and then a renewed sense of urgency and hope … it’s been difficult to distill this down into one piece.
Byrned
Last week, Mr. Burdy and I went to see the inimitable David Byrne at the 5th Avenue Theater here in Seattle. The venue is one of my favorites not only because of the grandiose they-don't-make-'em-like-this-anymore beauty but because of how the seats are arranged. They cascade down from the balcony to the stage at a slight angle so each seat is offset from the one in front of it. This means there's literally not a bad seat in the house. No one's head is directly in your line of sight. See that, arena designers and theater owners? I will gladly pay that "service charge" for the privilege of being able to see past Herman Munster, who, invariably sits RIGHT in front of me at every show.
Part of A Balanced Breakfast
For weeks now, I have been craving Frankenberry. Yes, Frankenberry. The breakfast cereal.
Maybe it’s the crisp air, hinting at the coming Fall weather, which reminds me of the start of school, which makes me think of how I started every single day of my young life: with a medium-sized Corelleware bowl of sugary cereal sluiced with whole milk.
In Case of EgoMergency, Break (Hour)Glass
Things hit me in threes and fours, usually. It's got something to do with synchronicity, I think. These past few weeks, I have felt unmoored, adrift. There have been multiple deaths in my immediate circle lately (will write about that when I have something cohesive to say about it). Ever since the wedding (which I will write about soon, too), I have been feeling uncertain about the direction my life should take. It's the inevitable fallout, no doubt, of going from planning a very detailed wedding every waking moment of the day to planning... nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. Working counts for something, I suppose. But my work has never been the thing that's defined me, so I'm back to feeling like there's something else I'm supposed to be doing with my day. That, and the presence of so much death has really got me thinking about how to live more purposefully.