Gadget Girl?

Most people afflicted with my fear of flying would have the good sense to stay home. But noooo, my love of travel has the deciding vote with 51% ownership of my body and I’m forced to power through my fears each time I embark on an adventure.

I’m often asked the question, “but doesn’t it get easier?”

Nope. Nyet. Nein.

But once I land safely on terra firma, my spirit comes back to life like a rehydrated sea-monkey. You see, I crave art and museums and attending the theater and glimpsing different cultures and collecting unexpected dining experiences. I like trying new things, listening to live music and gawking at unusual architecture, something other than strip malls and chain stores. I love learning and am so dang curious.

People have commented that I’m an old soul, but I don’t buy it. Everything still seems brand new to me and just about everything surprises me, including new fangled technology. Before this trip, I would have told you that I was not a gadget girl, but now I must contradict myself.

You see, three years ago, in February of 2008, Kimmmm and I went to New York for my birthday. We each had a camera and that was it. I called Groom each evening from the house we were staying (flat rate phone plan), to catch up on our days and say goodnight.

This time, when Kimmm joined us in New York during Fashion Week this February it was a whole new game. She and I were each carrying our cameras for the “arty/documentary” shots, but that wasn’t enough. Without saying a word, we each proceeded to whip out our Smart Phones so we could take pictures to post on Facebook and our respective blogs. We were uploading this, sharing that and it required twice as long to shoot anything. And we texted each other on the days we weren’t together or during the times were planning to meet up.

Three years ago life was simpler. I didn’t have a cell phone, didn’t know what a blog was and Facebook what?

On the subway rides home, I noticed how many people now had cords coming out of their ears, wires hanging down from their faces in the shape of a Y, connected to their mp3 players. I was kind of mentally making fun of how plugged in everybody was until I realized that I had my iPod with me. Pulling it out and sticking the buds into my ears, I was soon rocking back and forth, lulled by the rhythm of the train and relaxing with my personal music choices.

And speaking of choices, traveling often presents a dilemma for me - physical comfort or spiritual renewal? At home, I can select clothes and shoes from my closet which are appropriate for the weather and context and I can leave heavy items in the car if need be.

Living out of a suitcase, however, I must wear what I packed and once we left our Brooklyn Brownstone for the day I was stuck with whatever I put on. This included my coat, hat, gloves, shoes, bag and camera. If I wanted to bring anything else with me, I had to carry it all day.

We quickly discovered there were only two temperatures in New York this visit, icy cold or sizzling hot. As it was below freezing most of the time, we had to bundle up, but riding the subway was very warm and there was neither room nor time to disrobe to the comfort level in between stops. And buildings, including our apartment, were heated with the old fashioned steam heat. One temperature: sauna.

I describe all this because while traveling, from suffering the airplane nerves to the aching muscles, tired bones, heavy clothing, and sweaty chills, I was physically uncomfortable the entire time. My head and forehead itched from wearing wool hats every day, my skin rebelled from dehydration and wearing cosmetics, my innards seized into a stubborn ball, well, you get the idea.

But, but, but my spirit was so happy! My internal being soaked up the environment like a sponge, absorbing the pulsing electricity that is New York City, while my external being felt every bruise, knot and irritant.

When I return home, I am suddenly physically at ease again. I can sleep in my own bed, snuggle with my kitty kitty and blissfully return to comforting routines, yet…I am looking at the same old pit in the ground across from the library, the same kids spitting and swearing on the corner, the same dudes holding cardboard signs.

Hmmm, physical comfort or spiritual renewal? I guess that’s why I love going away and love coming home.

Treasure Hunting

A friend sent me an inspirational card this week and enclosed two flat glass stones with the words “strength” and “passion” etched onto them. Which is perfect since we are combining two passions this week, photography and yard sales. Both offer the thrill of the hunt.

We’re not ones to limit ourselves to yard sales, though. Garage sales are good, too, as are flea markets, estate sales, rummage sales, thrift shops, antique stores and bazaars. There’s so much fun stuff to look at and instead of feeling the impulse to buy, we get a contact high just by clicking the shutter and saving the funky junque for posterity.

Well, that’s mostly true. The other day while in Corvallis, I escaped the booth with my trusty Canon and iPod, the white earbuds affording me some personal space and groovy tunes while I took a walk. In other words, I was by myself.

Uh-oh.

I stumbled across a yard sale. No, bigger than that - a Church fund-raiser. Hallelujah, shopping for Jesus! When I finally made it back to the booth, I told Groom I needed a Hamilton (I must be related to the Queen of E. as I rarely carry cash), because I just bought a box of stuff from a yard sale.

He thought I was joking.

When I came back a bit later hefting the box he just shook his head. “But look,” I said, “a tin box I can collage for only ten cents. Ooh, and here’s a hanky that’s genuine linen from Ireland.” I pointed to the tiny oval gold sticker with black lettering on the back that said, “Genuine Irish Linen.”

“If you say, so dear.”

“I also bought some Christmas presents,” I justified and proceeded to show him the cool hand-carved wooden mug for our nephew’s Tiki room.”

But mostly we just enjoy taking photos at yard sales.

It seems I say this every week, but I’m still surprised when our eye is drawn to something similar, but we see it in such a different way. Groom noticed a box of dolls and the macabre collection of heads, body parts, and shivering figurines in bathtubs hit a particular tone. He captured it and the photo deserves a click of your mouse to enlarge for full appreciation.

Their expressions haunt me. Did you take note of the Kewpie doll in the lower left-hand corner? Yikes, looks like dried blood on its skull.

Speaking of skulls, while Groom went for the big picture, I zeroed in on a detail, focusing on this doll’s cracked one.

This next one, well, I don’t want to meet the person who needs these delicately painted jars. Boric acid and nipples? What kind of freak collector is that? Good thing we ran across this timely playscript, Calm Yourself. Could come in handy.

One of the things I adore about yard sales is that you never know what you’re going to discover. At this particular one, two children accosted me. By “accosted,” I mean they both ran over to me, grabbed my legs and begged to take a picture.

I looked at my new toy and then at their faces and how could I say no? I gingerly placed the camera around the boy’s neck first, keeping a tight grasp on it. The camera, not his neck. He was all wiggly with excitement wanting to push every button willy-nilly. Speaking calmly, I diverted his attention to the scene around him and asked what he noticed and what did he want to take a picture of?

He pointed to his sister. Aaaaah. So the little boy took a portrait of his sister and then it was her turn. She wanted to do the same thing, so here are the pictures they took of each other.

Sometimes a surplus of vegetables are on offer, so Groom baked a delicious loaf of zucchini bread with this squash.

The last photo is one we should call “Full Circle.” Imagine our surprise when what should we discover but one of our own stamp pins for sale by somebody else? It’s the one in the very back row, far left. As the story goes, one of our customers passed away and the pin ended up in her estate sale.

Oh well, you can’t take it with you.