MusikFest 2022

Last year Don and I returned to MusikFest for the first time in many years. I left feeling down. The magic we used to feel was gone. The Red Elvises were now Igor and the Red Elvises, a fraction of their old selves. I was actually surprised when Don suggested we return. Even more surprised when he suggested we stick around for The Red Elvises, even though we were there on a Sunday night and had work the next morning. 

We had a later start than planned and missed the Unicycling Unicorn. I was more interested in seeing him than Don was, but I thought Don would be more interested in seeing him.

I could tell we really weren't into festing when our first stop was the running store. I ended up buying bouncy new sneakers with the hope they will get me excited about running again. (Spoiler: I've taken them out twice and they have not yet worked their magic, will keep trying.) I was impressed the salesman really seemed to listen to me. He did some free diagnostics on my feet, which gave him data to support what I had said, and then chose a few decent pairs of sneakers. I ended up buying ones Katie, a running friend, loves. May they eventually work their magic on me.

MusikFest has a wonderful app that allowed me to map out who was playing where and at what time and how to find them and what to expect when I do find them. Made me wonder how we managed to find great music in the 1990s without it when all we could do was open our ears and listen.

After putting my new sneakers in the car we went to hear Emily Drinker: a singer who blends folk, pop, and rock with a high-energy band. I enjoyed her so much I joined her email list, and hope to find her again. She is from the Philadelphia area.

After her set nothing was catching our interest, and it was too early for dinner, so we got some ice cream from the Penn State Creamery on Main Street.

Across the street from the ice cream parlor Acute Inflections was getting ready for their set. They ar a jazz duo who clearly has a lot of fun playing with each other. We listened for a little while, but were not really getting into their music. That happens sometimes.

We decided it was late enough to get dinner. As we were walking down Main Street we were surprised (and pleased) to see the Unicycling Unicorn. He had drawn quite a crowd on Main Street in what felt like a pop up performance. A couple of times he alluded that he wasn't quite feeling the performance and was nervous about getting on top of a 12-foot unicycle and juggle, but I thought that was just part of his routine and dismissed it. Then I started to follow him on Facebook. He really was having a rough week and it is quite impressive he did not fall off of the unicyle. I smiled through his show and was very glad we were able to see it.

Festing was looking up. We had a lovely dinner at Fegley's on Main Street, a place that has consistently served us good food. This is important to me because for years I would have awful gastrointestinal reactions no matter where I ate in Bethlehem. We loved the city, and even thought about moving there, but every year I would get sick. I finally stopped drinking the water and stopped having an issue. Ice cubes didn't bother me, but we tried a new place each year and had an issue. It allows me to enjoy the city, which matters.

After dinner we heard The Chiclettes, a girl band playing music from the 40s, 50s, and 60s. The music was familiar and fun, but it was getting late and we wanted to at least give Igor and the Red Elvises a try.

I'm so glad we did. Last year we were disappointed when only three songs into their set they started playing covers and did not return to their quirky rock and roll style we loved. On this Sunday night, the third song was a cover ("Venus") I turned to Don in disappointment and he said to give them another chance. Meanwhile, we kept moving away from cigar smoke followed by marijuana aromas. We sat back from the tent and bopped to their music (too loud inside the tent, and the rain was holding off). 

An hour later when they took their break, we regretfully left to go home. We had

a good time. While we are not familiar with their new music, it had their distinct "Siberian Surf Rock" flavor.

Maybe it is possible to go back after all. 

Maybe life is looking up post-pandemic.

Halfway Through College

Two years ago Ashley started college. We were in the beginning of a pandemic we had hoped was really at the tail end. Muhlenberg only allowed the freshman and select upperclassmen to move on campus. Many classes were still held virtually her freshman year. We lived with the understanding there was a good chance they would be sent home if they broke the many rules, or if Covid cases climbed astronomically. Meanwhile, they were not allowed to go home and we were discouraged from visiting.

One year ago Ashley returned for sophomore year. We brought in an exchange student. Partway through the year we were finally allowed to see her room lived in (vs. packed up). 

Today Ashley left with a carload of the necessities and moved herself into college. Tomorrow Don and I will bring the bigger items and finish the move in process. This year she is moving into the basement apartment of a house literally across the street from the dorm she lived in last year. She is sharing a room with Molly (last year's roommate) and Greg (best friend since the first week of college). She is moving in with confidence and happiness we didn't realize was possible two years ago when it was all the unknown.

The high school class of 2020, college class of 2024 had to become more resilient. They learned all their hard work would not pay off in the rewards they were always told to expect -- prom, graduation, celebrations, even having your yearbook signed. The didn't have the hoopla of freshman orientation weekend -- a time when many make the friends they have for life. They had to figure out ways to make those friends while hiding behind masks and keeping at least 6 feet away. I'm proud of her for making a great group of friends.

As Ashley starts her fifth semester at Muhlenberg, we'll move her into a new space for the fourth time. In only 15 weeks we will move her out again so she can go to Italy for a semester.

It really does go quickly.

Roller Skating Wednesdays

It has been a whirlwind few weeks. I started to write this post on August 10th, suddenly it is August 27th. In the meantime, Jaclyn's roller skating group has received some press from NJ.com and a color spread in the Star Ledger. 

As usual, I am getting ahead of myself.

A few years ago I was a frustrated stay-at-home mom working the gig economy before the gig economy had a name. I posted on Facebook I was looking for other people who worked from home so we could meet someplace and work from home together -- form a group of co-workers, even though we didn't work for the same company. Through that group I met Jaclyn. Jaclyn is a musician who plays flute at weddings and other special events. She was trying to build her business. 

Soon after meeting each other I started to work for The Bridge Academy, and had my own co-workers. We stayed connected on Facebook. 

Not long after we met, Jaclyn decided to take up roller skating. She posted videos of herself and friends skating all over the state. While I was intrigued, I was not courageous. It takes a certain level of confidence to go to an unfamiliar location and try something new. I did not have the energy to drive 60+ minutes, go on skates for the first time in over 15 years and be with strangers.

That was before Covid hit.

Cool line dancing I couldn't do
with my inline skates

Jaclyn -- leader extraoirdinaire

Meanwhile, Jaclyn kept skating. Kept making friends, Kept gaining confidence. Kept looking as if she was having the time of her life.

Through her connections, she learned there is a pavilion at Cadwalder Park in Trenton that has a smooth surface and lots of parking. She went with a friend who filmed her skating there. She invited a few friends. Seemingly each week the group doubled in size, to the point where she realized she had to make it legitimate.

My 20+ year old inline skates

Changes include:

• Your first week you have to sign a waiver.
• It is only open to skaters 18 and up.
• She has a permit, and police presence (and accepts tips to off-set the cost)
• People chip in for a pot luck.

Jaclyn created a great community. There are people who bought skates for the first time after learning about her group. There are people who have been skating for decades. There are people like me who dusted off our skates to join in the fun.

I think I have only skated once or twice since Ashley was born. If I continue to pick this up, I need to invest in quads. My inline skates are not made for dancing. I do have a couple of leads on skates. Unfortunately they all have a different sizing system.

I have gone twice. The first time I bumped into my neighbor. I was surprised to see her out of context. The following week I saw the art teacher at my school. I was not surprised to see her since I know she is a skater. The second time I left because I wasn't feeling it -- and that was before I saw someone there sporting a hot pink cast on her wrist and learned it was due to falling the week before.

I think I'll keep those wrist guards on, even if I am the only one wearing them.

It was fun. 

I want to go back.

One

I've recently been hearing the advice of "one" -- do one pushup, email one friend, clean one drawer. 

I emailed one resume.

It has only been a day. I don't expect to land the first job I applied for. But, I applied for it. Doing so reminded me of the time a supervisor stole my work and in retaliation I sent out one resume -- in those days by mail -- and landed that one job. I likely would have stayed there, but I left it for the job of being Ashley's mom full-time. 

One.

As Ashley returns to school, I'll continue to look for ways I can do "one" of something. May that "one" lead to "two" then "three." 

Book one vacation.

Write one blog post.

Attend one worship service.

Run one mile. 

The options are limitless.

An update: the One resume led to One interview which led to One second interview. Waiting to find out if that will lead to One job offer.

Second update: the second interview led to a sorry we decided not to hire you email. The day before I learned they were increasing the hours at my part time job to make me full-time, so there is that. 

Cleaning out My Closet

 

When Ashley was little, my friend Carin was selling Creative Memories products. I heard her spiel about how pictures can tell a story. She shared a picture of her with badly cropped bangs. Not the most flattering picture of her (nearly two decades later, I remember the story, but not the picture). The story is she trimmed her bangs right after learning she and her husband were selected to adopt a baby girl. In an effort to clean herself up, she trimmed her bangs herself. They looked awful. To her, though, looking at the picture reminded her of the excitement of finally becoming a mom.

This brings me to this Talbots outfit I purchased in the mid-1990s. I had helped an older man (I recall he was in his 70s, please don't tell me he was only in his 50s) with understanding the new technology of the day (might have been WordPerfect, definitely pre-internet days). It probably took me less than half an hour to explain to him how to work the computer. I wasn't expecting more than the proffered "thank you." A couple of days later he brought 23-year old me a $25 gift card to Talbots because that was where his wife liked to shop (likely she was also in her 70s). It was a thoughtful gesture.

I took the gift card to Franklin Mills Mall, to the outlet version of a store where I would never shop on my own, to buy something. Anything. I was not going to let a gift card go to waste.

I bought the pictured outfit. The spandex boxy top was a little more in style in the 1990s than it is today. The silky skirt was dressy for work (even by 1990s standards). But it was a complete Talbots outfit for $25. Someone (not so helpfully) pointed out it was last year's style, which is why it was at the outlet.

I wish I could say it is a classic and something I would wear today.  

The truth is, the top always felt too big, and the skirt too confining (I have a longer stride than a straight skirt allows). I think I still fit into it, so that's not the issue. The biggest issues are the fabric is too fancy for my life, and it does not have pockets. I cannot recall wearing this outfit even once since Ashley was born 20 years ago.

Still, I cannot part with it. It has sat in the garage in a pile of clothes to donate since at least the beginning of the pandemic. I can't do it. Other clothes have been donated, but the ones from my carefree child-free days I can't part with. I suspect someone would say it is not the clothes, but the idea of being that person. If my memory is correct, this happened before I married Don (though we were engaged) when I was still Jacquelyn Koetting, and not Don's wife or Ashley's mom.

What would 22-year old me think of 52-year old me? What will 82-year old be like? What do I want 82-year me to be like? What can I do today to make sure 82-year old me is like that?

A Tale of Two Pictures

Last weekend our extended family gathered in Williamsburg to celebrate my mom's 75th birthday. We are blessed everyone truly gets along with each other and everyone wanted to gather to celebrate. Late last year we gathered to honor our matriarch at her funeral. Gathering for a birthday is a much more pleasant occasion. 

People broke up into smaller groups and went sightseeing in Williamsburg, they made plans for meals, and snacks, and sightseeing. No one asked us to join them. We all stayed at Woodlands -- an official Williamsburg hotel. Some took the shuttle bus to and from Duke of Gloucester Street, others walked each time, and still others walked some of the time, took the shuttle bus some of the time, and drove other times. 

I was the lead organizer. I asked everyone to make their own travel arrangements, but meet up at Josiah Chowning's Tavern (on DoG) for dinner at 5 pm on Saturday, followed by singing "Happy Birthday" in the hotel lobby.

Most arrived on Thursday, some arrived late Friday night. Some left on Sunday, others on Monday. There were no other group activities planned. No matching clothing. No signs on hotel doors. 

Throughout the weekend Don and I saw people in groups sightseeing together, eating together, and catching up with each other. Meanwhile, we worked behind the scenes to make the magic happen so mom could relax and socialize without worrying about the details.

By now you are wondering about the two pictures. Here they are:

The top picture was taken when I realized we were all in the same place at the same time and we better take a group picture in case the second picture (the planned one) did not happen for some reason. The second picture is of all of us after dinner.

It is hard to tell with Don (easier with me), but we are the only two people wearing the same clothes. Everyone else had a chance to go back to the hotel to clean up after a day of sightseeing before having dinner. We did not. In the morning we heard an organ recital, then picked up cupcakes, then picked up a candle and a birthday card from the Dollar Store. Quickly changed to meet up with some family at the museum before hearing a couple representing slaves (by the time we showed up to eat, they were leaving), organized the group picture before people dispersed, went on a tour (the only one of our trip), and got to the restaurant an hour early because this is the only restaurant that does not take reservations. The restaurant was kind and let us roam around and not have to wait outside. They were able to put all of us in one room. Still, we arrived 15 minutes before everyone else to make sure it was going to work out and we'd sit together. The family strolled in at the allotted hour, broke into groups at three tables in the same room (the best the restaurant could do), and met up again at the hotel. Don and I did the mad dash to the hotel to set up for the party. This is when people started to help us -- which was both nice and yet also annoying. I was so used to not having help I didn't know how to adjust to having help.

Many family pictures were taken. Many good memories were made. Some plans to meet up again in 14 months for dad's 80th birthday were bantered about (to which I replied, I'm not ready to coordinate another group outing).

People were pleased the burden was on no one to entertain and they could just hang.

I left tired. 

I felt people did not appreciate that while we did not just hang out with everyone (either I was running around, or trying to do some sightseeing), we traveled to see them in Ohio a month ago. Too many times I would make an off the cuff comment, then feel I had to justify my thoughts when the other person disagreed (such as my commenting I was surprised William and Mary College has more than one store that sells merchandise, because in my experiences, only the bookstore on campus sells that college t-shirts). Conversations because exhausting, so it was no wonder I didn't want them. I was also miffed when I told people we were leaving, they walked away without saying good-bye. 

To be fair, people did recognize we worked hard to make everyone else enjoy their trips, and thanked us. Perhaps it is not their fault I felt like an outsider and the event I organized, but that doesn't mean I didn't feel like an outsider.

Facing a Fear

For reasons I could not explain (even to myself) I have been afraid of using an electric toothbrush. 

Afraid to the point of not using one even though hygienists have been telling me for years I need to use one. 

Afraid to the point that even after finally buying one (the last person said -- any one is better than none) it sat in the box on my bathroom counter for over a month. 

Afraid to the point that when I did take it out of the box, it sat in the charger for another week (even though the instructions said it might need 24 hours to charge).

So what happened once I was brave enough to try it?

I found I liked it. It is a bit like a mouth massage. My teeth feel cleaner. I feel a little virtuous using it. Unlike my regular toothbrush, I don't gag using it. I was able to think through my fear. 

Why was I afraid to use it?

One hygienist said many people don't like the noise.

My husband said he can't handle the noise first thing in the morning.

Another hygienist said I wouldn't like how much the toothpaste foams in my mouth.

I built up a fear that turned out to be nothing scary.

If only I could apply the electric toothbrush example to other places in my life I perceive to be scary and not worth the change.