Sunday, September 10, 2006
DAY FIVE: SAN DIEGO IV
It's funny how beginnings and endings can be important markers. I've been here for four days, and this being the last day had an impact on how we proceeded. There is the celebration of a beginning, and the what-have-we-forgotten-and-need-to-discuss feel of the last day. The middle days become unmoored. They become routine, even within the small context. I am looking for a taste of that, though. As lost as I feel during the in-between days, I am trying to lean in to them, accept their indirection and production of anxiety and questions as the natterings of daily life. I do this because I am scared of them.
Though I went to bed late, I felt obliged to get up at a reasonable hour (8:30/9) and surrender the livingroom. I elected to venture out for the NY Times, and Jason mentioned a coffee house in which I could hole up. I've been fabricating Colleen's possible responses to my presence, as I do not know her as well. So I decided to give us all space and drink coffee with, honestly, a nuts-o cast of characters. The man with the amazon parrot was there, as well as the fishy sulking teenager by the magazine rack. The presence-filled woman at the cash register put most coffee jerks to shame. And did I mention how BRIGHT the sunlight is in San Diego? Soon, Jason retireved me for the weekly foray to the farmer's market.
A brief pause here for the amazing produce in California, which I will miss dearly.
Colleen struggled all day with nasty allergies. She also needed to plan for her classes this week. Jason read the paper while I wrote his recommendation letter for Prescott College. He wants to finish his bachelor's degree in a manner that agrees with his self-taught style. I was able to photograph them busy in their separate worlds in their shared space.
Jason and I went to see "Little Miss Sunshine." Movie-going in SD cannot be dictated by the weather. Alone with him, I was able to ask Jason questions that had been hanging in the back of my mind, like what is different since you've married? I felt looser, if only because I know Jason better. He was traumatized by the paegent scenes in the movie and we both wandered around Trader Joe's in a post-movie haze, the sort where nothing is real and you might be caught in someone's script.
A planned dinner with friends was dropped in favor of another great home-cooked meal with good wine. It was a thoroughly engaging and lovely time, rife with family stories and more high school comparisons (ours verses Colleen's kids), of which I can never tire. I showed them images from my show in May in place of summer work.
I emerge from this marination in married life with the idea that Jason and Colleen are wholey different people who exist within eachother's intimate consideration.
This is their downstairs neighbor, Anthony, in his boat.
It's funny how beginnings and endings can be important markers. I've been here for four days, and this being the last day had an impact on how we proceeded. There is the celebration of a beginning, and the what-have-we-forgotten-and-need-to-discuss feel of the last day. The middle days become unmoored. They become routine, even within the small context. I am looking for a taste of that, though. As lost as I feel during the in-between days, I am trying to lean in to them, accept their indirection and production of anxiety and questions as the natterings of daily life. I do this because I am scared of them.
Though I went to bed late, I felt obliged to get up at a reasonable hour (8:30/9) and surrender the livingroom. I elected to venture out for the NY Times, and Jason mentioned a coffee house in which I could hole up. I've been fabricating Colleen's possible responses to my presence, as I do not know her as well. So I decided to give us all space and drink coffee with, honestly, a nuts-o cast of characters. The man with the amazon parrot was there, as well as the fishy sulking teenager by the magazine rack. The presence-filled woman at the cash register put most coffee jerks to shame. And did I mention how BRIGHT the sunlight is in San Diego? Soon, Jason retireved me for the weekly foray to the farmer's market. 
A brief pause here for the amazing produce in California, which I will miss dearly.
Colleen struggled all day with nasty allergies. She also needed to plan for her classes this week. Jason read the paper while I wrote his recommendation letter for Prescott College. He wants to finish his bachelor's degree in a manner that agrees with his self-taught style. I was able to photograph them busy in their separate worlds in their shared space.
Jason and I went to see "Little Miss Sunshine." Movie-going in SD cannot be dictated by the weather. Alone with him, I was able to ask Jason questions that had been hanging in the back of my mind, like what is different since you've married? I felt looser, if only because I know Jason better. He was traumatized by the paegent scenes in the movie and we both wandered around Trader Joe's in a post-movie haze, the sort where nothing is real and you might be caught in someone's script.
A planned dinner with friends was dropped in favor of another great home-cooked meal with good wine. It was a thoroughly engaging and lovely time, rife with family stories and more high school comparisons (ours verses Colleen's kids), of which I can never tire. I showed them images from my show in May in place of summer work.
I emerge from this marination in married life with the idea that Jason and Colleen are wholey different people who exist within eachother's intimate consideration.
This is their downstairs neighbor, Anthony, in his boat.
