I don't know my library card number by heart yet. I can feel my muscle memory on the keyboard number pad just starting to stir... But after a few weeks of blogging from the library computers, it still hasn't quite kicked in.
It's funny how I've started to measure my time in Adultworld. Between undergrad and momhood, or a second degree, there is no "start of fall term" to tell me when summer is over; there is no "winter break," or even "fall break," for that matter. There is no "putting my stuff in storage" at the end of each year, no semester transcripts, no midterms.
Instead, there is the start date on my lease; the anniversary of the day I met my first friend in this state; the day I suddenly realize, hey! I walked across the street into work on this day last year; the weird undefined period that marks a year since I first discovered Bishop's Coffee Co., but before I shook hands with Jason for the first time; my "6-month" dentist's appointment, which actually fell more than a year after my last cleaning; my contact prescription update; 5 years since I bought my last pair of glasses; the "time to make your next annual appointment" postcard from my doctor; the inevitable urge to refresh my professional wardrobe every time the weather changes; buying a new planner because I actually have stuff to start writing in it for 2013...
Most constant, probably, are bills. This is new for me. The bill from Delmarva (utilities) comes in Kristy's name every month, and we spend a good 5 minutes every time trying to figure out why it's so expensive, if we haven't run the AC in October. (It takes us that long to figure out that October's bill covers mostly our energy use in September, and September's covers mostly August...) I also have to manually transfer my portion of the rent into Kristy's account toward the end of every month, so we don't get saddled with late fees. Then there is my cell phone bill, which comes due on the third of every month, and student loan payments, one of which comes out on the first of the month, and the other on the fifteenth.
Student loans are a big one, because they mark not only months, but years; theoretically, the principal will shrink in some sort of measurable pattern as the years go past. If you remember, my student loan grace period ended on my birthday last year. You might also remember as my favorite birthday present ever. (Not.) The gift that keeps on giving. "Happy birthday, girl! Enjoy your gift: Another year of interest. Party it up! Love, Your Education."
Thanks to this lovely present, I am alarmed every time I check my balance only to find what seems to be no change at all. And for the first time, I'm really connecting emotionally with my middle-class American heritage: Indebtedness. Really makes you feel patriotic.
But even bills aren't so consistent. As you might imagine from that beast of a list, there seems to be another bill due half the days in the month. Or at least a week's worth of days. How can I measure time when the months overlap according to my different creditors?
How about this: How often I buy produce, and how many of my vegetables have turned inedible from neglect? How old are those leftovers, exactly? Using the principles of the hourglass, the level of granola in my awesome granola jar? Time to buy honey, or soap, or toilet paper?
Is it swimming day, Bose ball day, running day, Zumba day, or yoga day? Am I eating dinner with my family tonight? Am I going out with Jason, eating with the girls, or do I need to plan to cook for myself? When's the last time I spent my lunch break talking to Liz or Audrey or Mary on the phone? How soon will I need another book to read?
And then there are holidays. The official calendar "first days of spring/summer/fall/winter" are pretty inconsequential; the solstices and equinoxes are less of a big deal than whether the days are getting shorter or longer. More critical time-measuring holidays are the beginning and end of daylight savings, and how many hours of sleep I have to pretend like I am going to make up this week, or sigh of relief at the extra hour of sleep. Gone are the days when I watch the clock turn from 1:59 to 3:00am as I'm just getting back to my dorm room from being who knows where; now I care about my sleep schedule and how alert I will be for the rest of the work week.
But now it's fall, it's Halloween season, and it's the best. This morning I got up to go to the Brandywine Zoo with my friend Marina. Neither of us really knew where we were going, but we pulled into the parking lot within a minute of each other. Weird. It's in the middle of the gorgeous Brandywine Park, right on the river, which was sparkling autumn-gold. My favorite color, next to the deep, just-after-twilight evening blue.
The Zoo is small, but spirited -- like a lot of the Delaware that's stolen my heart. The gate was decked out with faux cobwebs, the staff dressed up in spooky Halloween finery. Little kids in costume swarmed the walkways. One of them looked exactly like a 3-year-old version of the adorable little girl from We Bought a Zoo, and even matched her temperament. (Great movie, by the way, and so fitting of today's excursion.)
It's the only zoo in Delaware, and not surprisingly it's not the most stunning zoo in the world; but it definitely made my Most Charming Zoos list. It hosts a unique collection of animals, from a coati to a cloud leopard to a python to llamas and rheas and a furry South Asian tree creature whose name I can't pronounce, but have never seen before. The staff are also exceptionally friendly and informative, humbly offering these random answers to questions you never would have thought to ask.
For example, condors are the only birds whose gender is distinguishable without close inspection. They are the largest of the world's flying birds (I could go into this more, since it is the national bird of Ecuador, but I won't). The thing I found most fascinating is that they spread their wings in the sun to dry them off, after burying their bald heads in carrion and rinsing off in a stream or pool of water. Gross, but who would have thought?! We also got to touch cloud leopard, python, and anteater skulls, and see a tiny brown bat skeleton. Haven't seen one of those since the educational pages of the kids' book Stellaluna, where I decided not to be afraid of bats since they are one of the most closely related mammals to humans -- evidenced by their "five-fingered" wing structure.
Speaking of measuring time, the informational plaques at each enclosure spelled out the habitat, offspring, and lifespan of each species represented at the zoo. Rheas live, on average, 20 years in the wild; in captivity, they live 40. River otters usually live about 23 years. And the prize for the longest lifespan goes to...
The blue-and-yellow macaw, which can live to over 100 years! I know what animal I definitely will not be choosing as a pet...
It's funny how I've started to measure my time in Adultworld. Between undergrad and momhood, or a second degree, there is no "start of fall term" to tell me when summer is over; there is no "winter break," or even "fall break," for that matter. There is no "putting my stuff in storage" at the end of each year, no semester transcripts, no midterms.
Instead, there is the start date on my lease; the anniversary of the day I met my first friend in this state; the day I suddenly realize, hey! I walked across the street into work on this day last year; the weird undefined period that marks a year since I first discovered Bishop's Coffee Co., but before I shook hands with Jason for the first time; my "6-month" dentist's appointment, which actually fell more than a year after my last cleaning; my contact prescription update; 5 years since I bought my last pair of glasses; the "time to make your next annual appointment" postcard from my doctor; the inevitable urge to refresh my professional wardrobe every time the weather changes; buying a new planner because I actually have stuff to start writing in it for 2013...
Most constant, probably, are bills. This is new for me. The bill from Delmarva (utilities) comes in Kristy's name every month, and we spend a good 5 minutes every time trying to figure out why it's so expensive, if we haven't run the AC in October. (It takes us that long to figure out that October's bill covers mostly our energy use in September, and September's covers mostly August...) I also have to manually transfer my portion of the rent into Kristy's account toward the end of every month, so we don't get saddled with late fees. Then there is my cell phone bill, which comes due on the third of every month, and student loan payments, one of which comes out on the first of the month, and the other on the fifteenth.
Student loans are a big one, because they mark not only months, but years; theoretically, the principal will shrink in some sort of measurable pattern as the years go past. If you remember, my student loan grace period ended on my birthday last year. You might also remember as my favorite birthday present ever. (Not.) The gift that keeps on giving. "Happy birthday, girl! Enjoy your gift: Another year of interest. Party it up! Love, Your Education."
Thanks to this lovely present, I am alarmed every time I check my balance only to find what seems to be no change at all. And for the first time, I'm really connecting emotionally with my middle-class American heritage: Indebtedness. Really makes you feel patriotic.
But even bills aren't so consistent. As you might imagine from that beast of a list, there seems to be another bill due half the days in the month. Or at least a week's worth of days. How can I measure time when the months overlap according to my different creditors?
How about this: How often I buy produce, and how many of my vegetables have turned inedible from neglect? How old are those leftovers, exactly? Using the principles of the hourglass, the level of granola in my awesome granola jar? Time to buy honey, or soap, or toilet paper?
Is it swimming day, Bose ball day, running day, Zumba day, or yoga day? Am I eating dinner with my family tonight? Am I going out with Jason, eating with the girls, or do I need to plan to cook for myself? When's the last time I spent my lunch break talking to Liz or Audrey or Mary on the phone? How soon will I need another book to read?
And then there are holidays. The official calendar "first days of spring/summer/fall/winter" are pretty inconsequential; the solstices and equinoxes are less of a big deal than whether the days are getting shorter or longer. More critical time-measuring holidays are the beginning and end of daylight savings, and how many hours of sleep I have to pretend like I am going to make up this week, or sigh of relief at the extra hour of sleep. Gone are the days when I watch the clock turn from 1:59 to 3:00am as I'm just getting back to my dorm room from being who knows where; now I care about my sleep schedule and how alert I will be for the rest of the work week.
But now it's fall, it's Halloween season, and it's the best. This morning I got up to go to the Brandywine Zoo with my friend Marina. Neither of us really knew where we were going, but we pulled into the parking lot within a minute of each other. Weird. It's in the middle of the gorgeous Brandywine Park, right on the river, which was sparkling autumn-gold. My favorite color, next to the deep, just-after-twilight evening blue.
The Zoo is small, but spirited -- like a lot of the Delaware that's stolen my heart. The gate was decked out with faux cobwebs, the staff dressed up in spooky Halloween finery. Little kids in costume swarmed the walkways. One of them looked exactly like a 3-year-old version of the adorable little girl from We Bought a Zoo, and even matched her temperament. (Great movie, by the way, and so fitting of today's excursion.)
It's the only zoo in Delaware, and not surprisingly it's not the most stunning zoo in the world; but it definitely made my Most Charming Zoos list. It hosts a unique collection of animals, from a coati to a cloud leopard to a python to llamas and rheas and a furry South Asian tree creature whose name I can't pronounce, but have never seen before. The staff are also exceptionally friendly and informative, humbly offering these random answers to questions you never would have thought to ask.
For example, condors are the only birds whose gender is distinguishable without close inspection. They are the largest of the world's flying birds (I could go into this more, since it is the national bird of Ecuador, but I won't). The thing I found most fascinating is that they spread their wings in the sun to dry them off, after burying their bald heads in carrion and rinsing off in a stream or pool of water. Gross, but who would have thought?! We also got to touch cloud leopard, python, and anteater skulls, and see a tiny brown bat skeleton. Haven't seen one of those since the educational pages of the kids' book Stellaluna, where I decided not to be afraid of bats since they are one of the most closely related mammals to humans -- evidenced by their "five-fingered" wing structure.
Speaking of measuring time, the informational plaques at each enclosure spelled out the habitat, offspring, and lifespan of each species represented at the zoo. Rheas live, on average, 20 years in the wild; in captivity, they live 40. River otters usually live about 23 years. And the prize for the longest lifespan goes to...
The blue-and-yellow macaw, which can live to over 100 years! I know what animal I definitely will not be choosing as a pet...
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