Family and Just Like Family

So, I have been feeling really grateful for being here lately-- perhaps because of the holidays, and the unfamiliar ease with which that meant I got to see family this year. Our traditions have shifted away from presents entirely to annual handmade Christmas cards, of which I am posting a tableau of this year's bounty. It was so great to be in Eugene with the fam, enjoy a nice meal, and enjoy the act of giving someone something you've thought about and concentrated on just for them.

In my apartment, the art and photos have started to go up. I realized recently-- I don't have any art for art's sake. Not one piece. All my decorative wall hangings are of sentimental value-- made by friends, painted by family, photos, pieces brought back from far off places. At first, it occurred to me that this might be seen as bad, since I am not putting things up because they are great, I am putting them because they are important to me. Then I thought I about something I heard recently-- that when you own art and put it up, you cease to really look at it. So then I thought my sentimental collection of the decorative arts might not be such a bad thing afterall....

Here's one example: the yearly group photo from South Haven where my family spent the summer each year since before I was born (this one taken in the summer of 1972 predates me-- my mom is in the black scoop necked shirt with my father standing slightly to the right of her). Once I came along, these folks become my aunts and uncles, cousins and friends. I love this picture because it reminds me of those days, and the many of the extended families that have been so important to me in the various places that I have lived since then. So, although I am very, very happy to be near my family family, the many kind people I have met in Portland so far are just as clutch for my happiness-- I am grateful for both.

Like a Phoenix

Schaackmobile (the blog) triumphantly returns. Schaackmobile (the lifestyle) is still on hiatus, as I slowly spread the tentacles of my existence from the smallest room in my apartment. Schaackmobile (the album), like Wilco (the album), is still just a glint in its mother's eye.

As of late, I have taken over more of the apartment, and even have all the art and photos unpacked and perilously leaning against boxes and walls as I figure out what half of my colorful collection will decorate the homestead and what half will decorate the other homestead: my office. Ahhh, the office. Where have I been this semester? In my office. I decided to trim the hedges in terms of activities so as to optimize the chance of survival this semester, and guess what-- I am giving the final on monday! That means I have survived intact and that blogging, and other highly superfluous activities, might be okay to re-introduce into my daily regimen, one by one.

Back to the inaugural comeback blogpost: I am excited to share the revival of yet another long-dormant pastime: Hwatu! (pronounced like it's spelled)
I threw a party last night, and a colleague in the Chinese department who is actually Korean brought me a gift! A set of cards to play the Korean card game Go-Stop-- a very fun gambling game that I learned from an old friend, Franklin, many years ago in Spain before the abandonment of the peseta for the euro (pesetas were great for very low-stakes gambling as they were worth a fraction of a penny and you could end up with quite the jingle-jangle in your pocket by the end of the night if you played your cards right.) Playing your cards in the game of Hwatu, however, involves animatedly slapping them down on the table and yelling expletives in Korean. Or at least that's what Franklin told us. And so we did! Not having any real idea what we were saying and horrifying Korean-Americans who would overhear our exclamations when we played the game in cafes to pass the time... I am eager to re-learn the rules and host a game soon.... the cards are beautiful (pictured here, with my latest coffee table book) and the fact that I am actually thinking about using the living room means my case of Stockholm's is almost cured. Wanna come play?

Sunshine Feeding Daisies

Where does time go? Seriously!

Last I wrote, I was settling into Portland life and getting ready for classes to start. Well, they started, and the settling in continues. I moved into my sweet bachelorette pad, only to be struck with a mild case of Stockholm syndrome-- which is to say I lived, with all of my belongings, in the tiny half-bedroom off the bathroom for the first month, rarely venturing into the rest of the apartment. After 3 years of living small, I was in love with it, and spreading out though an entire apartment had little appeal. In the last week, I have convalesced to the point of sleeping in the actual full bedroom, but I still haven't sat on the couch. I suppose it is not a bad thing to have loved trailer life so much, is it?

Classes have started, though I am not teaching until the second third of the semester. While I can, I am writing and finishing grants, preparing to teach, reviewing a paper, meeting students, doing faculty-esque type things, and trying not to let any of my colcollaborators down to terribly badly. I also am having a little fun. I went to Seattle and inherited a ton of Daphnia gear from my relatively-new-but-have-know-him-a-long-time friend Brooks Miner. He lived in Seattle with his wife, Anna Coogan (a very talented singer-songwriter) until last week, hence the need to run up there and get the goods that will launch my new lab.

This past weekend I went to my dear friend Steve's wedding in Council Bluffs, IA-- home of the almost famous squirrel cage jail, which I meant to go see but didn't. Next time I go to Council Bluffs! Steve and his wife, Kelly, are fellow Lake Weekend attendees and the two of them, in addition to their many other wonderful qualities helped make this year the Year of the Human Pyramid Trick! Instead of just your run of the mill double head stand (which we did do, of course-- Rodenbeck on the left, me on the right), we went for the whole kit and caboodle this year and involved a whole crew in the quest for better tricks (Kelly bottom left, Steve on top of her; me bottom, right with Rodenbeck and his Herculean grip keeping the 2 tubes together, Turpin on top of us, and Shane as the flyer). I think we made it look easy. I assure you it was not.
The wedding was very fun, and I came back exhausted. Despite that, I couldn't miss out on a chance to go see John Prine with my family last night in Eugene, so I hustled down I-5 to meet them and catch his show for the first time, and it was SO fantastic-- I cannot recommend it enough. And if you haven't listened to your John Prine albums in a while, dig 'em out. And if you don't have any, email me and I will send you some. He is a charmer. And an old guitar hand from Bloomington who I have seen many times, Jason Wilbur, plays lead guitar for him so it was fun to see a familiar face in a new place. Given that John Prine's songwriting is solidly grounded in the school of 3-chords (maybe 4) that I also adhere to with dedication, it is a special pleasure to listen closely and focus on the lyrics, from which the title of this blogpost was taken. Absolute poetry, and the stories he told in between, mostly about where the songs came to him from, were so funny and interesting. My mom, my sister, and I all loved it and-- to our collective surprise I am sure-- kind of loved seeing it together. Serenaded by John Prine for the evening... can't ask for much more than that.

Last thing-- tonight I went and saw that amazing play, The Method Gun, that I blogged about last year after a quick trip to Austin. It was amazing, again! So much so that, after it was over, and the cast came out for their second bow and then ran off stage, I caught wind of them (ltierally) as they ran behind where I was sitting to go backstage and recover after the performance. I turned and caught two of them-- tapping them on the shoulder (the very handsome ones, just by luck)-- and had the pleasure of paying them this compliment:

I said, "I've gone to two plays in the last 5 years." One of them paused quizzically, and said "...Yeah??" And I said, "And they were both The Method Gun." We high fived, and they continued their trot back stage. See it if you can.