Inaugural Ball, Madison style

We really can dress up! I knew we had it in us. So much time to think about this night and it finally came. The temperature outside was below zero but that didn't stop Madisonians from tapping the keg and getting down to the business of a party. What a welcome back for me and Chip, riding the coattails of the Presidential inauguration. We are shameless in our attempts to get a party in our honor, of sorts. Hey, we voted for him.

Everyone asks, "So how was it (England)?" How can I sum it up? Allison told me, "Mom, they don't really care, just say it was fun."

Tonight was fun.












Happy happy Americans.

Emerging from the fog in my head

Tin Woodsman: What have you learned, Dorothy?
Dorothy: Well, I - I think that it - it wasn't enough to just want to see Uncle Henry and Auntie Em - and it's that - if I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right?


What a weird transition this week. I felt fine for the first two days after we came home and then went into a dream state for most of the week. It was an odd sort of fugue. I would feel fine and then suddenly become sleepy and unable to think clearly. I was ravenously hungry at 10:30am. I would forget to eat dinner. It all makes sense time zone wise but still. Weird.

The Obama Inaugural Party is set for tomorrow night. We're getting dressed up in Madison, as rare a phenomenon as seeing the Northern Lights. It happens but it's fleeting and you will likely not see it again. Some are panicking, some are questioning what to wear. I think there is sometimes too much "relaxation" of etiquette in the modern age. People should know how to dress when the invitation reads "formal". That shouldn't be scary and unfamiliar. There are times in life when it is appropriate...weddings, funerals, Inaugural Balls.

I hope to look stunning but will settle for pretty. Pretty ok. Pretty swell. Pretty damn happy about my new President.

Haven't had my camera out in a week. It's time to bring it out. A quick picture out the back door of one of my favorite views in Madison, sunset in my own backyard.

What a day to be an American

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get back, when brown can stick around -- (laughter) -- when yellow will be mellow -- (laughter) -- when the red man can get ahead, man -- (laughter) -- and when white will embrace what is right.

Let all those who do justice and love mercy say amen.

AUDIENCE: Amen!

REV. LOWERY: Say amen --

AUDIENCE: Amen!

REV. LOWERY: -- and amen.

AUDIENCE: Amen! (Cheers, applause.)

END.

The television has been on since 7am. Thirteen hours of coverage and we're not done yet. The Inaugural Balls are still to come. What will Michelle wear? Will she and Barack dance more than a waltz? Get a little funky? I really hope so.

A generous neighbor opens her house to any who want to watch the inauguration en masse. Tears intermittently all day, especially listening to my African American fellow citizens talk emotionally about how meaningful this day is, not only to them but to the legacy of their parents and grandparents who fought hard for civil rights, never daring to believe in our lifetimes, there would be an African American U.S. president.

The bloom will be off the rose tomorrow as we, especially Barack Obama, have to get down to the hard tasks at hand, But today, I'm indulging in what feels like a holiday. Lots of phone calls, not much work getting done, ate too much, had champagne before noon.

Welcome home indeed

Both girls cried at different times in the past 24 hours out of relief and joy at being home in their own beds, with their pets. Both girls also in different stages of panic about returning to their schools next week. One giddy, one just downright worried.

Up at 4:30am, the benefit of this particular time change, ready for action. Laundry in, pet naughtiness rooted out and dealt with, coffee and donuts by 11am despite two dead car batteries. AAA, many thanks on that front. Coffee all day, friends in and out, waving from cars, neighbors stopping cars and getting out to give hugs. A big crockpot of chili for dinner and a night in front of the telly.

The plows are flying by the house getting rid of the snow that was unplowable two days ago because of the temperatures. It's positively balmy today at 14 degrees.

The pets still getting used to us, even though we're hugging them and mauling them as if they know us.

No pictures. I'm tired and unfocused, so here's an old one.

Last post of the sabbatical

We walked into Oxford for lunch today and all got a bit wistful about leaving. We're ready to go but we dearly love Oxford and we'll miss it. Ally and Liv went back to school one last time to say goodbye, turn in some books. It felt good to them to reconnect briefly with these generous kids who extended themselves and made them feel part of something here. I am very thankful to those sassy and boisterous Cherwell children who took good care of my girls.

I'm posting one last picture from the memorial fountain for Princess Diana in Hyde Park. It was one of the first photos I took in England, taken before Chip's dad passed away. As our time here has been somewhat defined and shaped by this loss, it feels good to end our journey on a memorial note. Larry had a finesse for slowly extracting key information from Olivia and Allison through well appointed questions during one of their television shows or over a snack at the kitchen counter. He'd take his time, amass his facts and put all the pieces of the puzzle together for himself (and us) later. It was very reassuring to get the report card from Grandpa that all was well with the girls. I don't go much for the finesse approach because it takes patience. I'm more of a Guantanamo/Spanish Inquistion type. I am keen to know what Olivia and Ally will reflect upon when they return home, what things will stand out for them, what things they will miss, etc. But I think I'll take a lesson from the master....take a breath, give everyone some space and let things settle before trying to take everyone's emotional temperature upon wheels down in O'Hare. We'll see how I do.

Where does my blog go from here? Will I keep going? I haven't a clue. The computer cord is fried and frayed and there's no juice left so I have to sign off from England for the last time. Thanks to all who've read because it kept me good company when I was lonely, knowing you were reading.

It's all gone a bit pear shaped

Breathe
The renovations to our house have begun and we're stuck in the middle of it. This morning, Chip and I sat in the front sitting room trying to enjoy our coffee and pretend it was the start of a regular day as we heard above us, the sound of the radiator being pried off the wall and the beginnings of plaster demolition. Within the hour, water began pouring through the ceiling into the sitting room. So ended any illusion that it was a regular day. The leak was quickly fixed, and the rest of the wall did come down as planned. The ceiling remains intact for the moment. The plaster guy hauled water back and forth through the house and up the stairs and mixed and mixed buckets of what looked like coffee gelato. The exposed brick looked nice, but was eventually covered by dry wall then plaster within a matter of hours.

Meditate
There are only four rooms unaffected by the mayhem and so we move like hamsters in a Habitrail, feverishly running from room to room. I'm sure if we had any cedar shavings, we'd all be burying ourselves in them until Friday. The workmen are really pleasant and do all they can to accommodate the squatters living here while they renovate. It would be so much funnier if it wasn't actually me.

Our milk sits out on the ledge out back, with our cheese and yogurt. All the rest of the food sits on the living room mantle. We wash dishes in the bathroom sink and rest them on the side of the tub to be dried. It's vaguely nauseating that our dishes are bathing where our dirty bodies bathe but I can't become paralyzed by the little stuff at this point. As Kate Winslet would say, "Gather."

The beauty of being a teenager in this scenario is that you have the ability to sleep right through the adult work day. Allison slept until after 1pm, declaring that it's actually good to start getting on CST. We finally made it into town around 3pm and managed to kill some hours gathering last minute must-haves like British pop CDs and fashion accessories. It does feel a little frantic to be leaving behind some beloved things about the culture and wondering what we can buy and stuff in our suitcases so as not to forget those things. The truth is, we can't buy these things, but we try anyway. We're scared we'll forget what we love here.
Channel
We return to a fine layer of dust everywhere that I suppose most closely resembles anthrax, but at least it's relatively quiet with only one workman left. The evening feels pretty normal, but it's an early start again tomorrow as supposedly all this work is to be done by Friday. It seems impossible that we will actually get to Friday. Three days and counting....

Palace Badii and its storks

My eyes were always drawn to the storks of the medina. So exotic and yet a bit bedraggled and weary looking living in the middle of the madness. They nest atop mosque towers but primarily atop the walls of the ruins of the Palace Badii, once one of the greatest palaces ever built and then stripped of its grandeur within twelve years and left to what you can see. Honestly, the buildings of Pompeii looks better than this poor palace. But one Sultan falls out of favor and another moves in and decides to move all the palace riches to another part of Morocco. What can you do? But the storks took up residence and since believed to be reincarnated humans, live in relative peace amidst the chaos of the medina. It certainly is calmer above the city and there is a certain majestic quality about the birds which makes the palace a fitting aviary. The nests are five and six feet in diameter and almost as tall. At dusk, they gracefully fly home to this palace from all other high spots in the city. It's beautiful to see.







Our last night in Marrakech, it's so cold. We are so done with the cold. It's making me grouchy for sure. I think the Moroccans are grouchy even. We take a short walk in one final spin around the old city. As the final two prayer calls go out from the mosque, we sip our last coca-colas (will be glad to get back to the land of heathen infidels where beer and wine flow from the taps) and enjoy comfort foods done quite well in Morocco--pizza, spaghetti, ice cream and chocolate cake. Leave it to the Hunters to find the junk food even in Africa.





Monday, we're home safe in Oxford, I've got the laundry going for the last time and we are all dreaming of home for real now. Four days and counting...