My Drinking Problem

No, I am not about to talk about addiction and recovery.A lot of folks in my life do not drink (either by choice or by commitment) and I've certainly spent some time in various flavors of twelve step circles. And I do not mean to make light of those in recovery or to minimalize the impact of alcohol on the lives of those who drink, and those family and friends impacted by alcoholism.

It's just that I'm not a very good drinker. It's not that I'm a sloppy drunk, nor that I am inexperienced, it's just that whatever combination of innate aptitude, preference, and proclivity go into the making of an alcohol aficionado, I don't have the right stuff. My facebook feed is filled with martini gatherings, creative and colorful cocktails, girls nights out, boys nights out, holiday parties, etc. and I just do not get it.

When I do drink, it's beer - usually something upmarket, and mostly because it's kind of controllable - it's hard for me to drink too many without having to spend the entire evening in the bathroom. As the saying goes, most recently quoted by Bruce Dern's character in Nebraska, "you don't buy a beer, you rent it". I might have 2-3 over the course of an evening, on a really wild night. Back in the (college, young adulthood) I guess I'd drink myself silly now and then, but insofar as alcoholism might require a genetic predisposition, I was favored without that particular genetic code. If I was slated for alcoholism, I would have fallen down that particular path in college. 

Somewhere along the line I picked up a bottle of gin and vodka with an eye to summerish cocktails - gin and tonics, cranberry and vodka. I dragged both bottles up the the folk fest, I actually made myself a drink a few times over the long hot summer, but the gin bottle is 3/4 full and the vodka bottle is maybe 1/2 full. I picked up a 1/2 pint (which ages me, I know it's really 200 ml, a transition that occurred when I was in college and working at a package store) of peppermint schnappes for post shoveling and holiday nipping - and was somewhat chagrined to realize that I do not own a shot glass. (I used a cold medicine measured cap to pour myself a shot  several times). That bottle still has 50 mL or so left - I bought another the last snowstorm which remains sealed. I am tempted by the sickly sweet, not so serious hard liquor of peach brandy or the like. I'm curious about wintery drinks - cinnamon whisky, a hot toddy, etc. But I'll probably remain just that.

Part of it may be social, physiological and economic - I do not really have much of a social circle so not a lot of opportunity to go out for drinkees, hang out with friends. I'm also pretty cheap, so the thought of spending $10 for a mixed drink or a glass of wine is just not on my radar. And finally, my liver, which has processed over a decade of oral estrogen, is just not really happy to get a solid night's worth of alcohol to deal with. I'm at an age where a hangover is just not worth it. 

So yeah, I'm not much of a drinker. And I'm kind of envious of those of you who seem to do it with class and style...

Once more into the breech.....

In two days, I'll be knee deep into the first weekend of the 2014 yoga teacher training at West Hartford Yoga. This is the same training I attended in 2008 (I was, in fact, Teacher Trainee #1, signing up first for the first year of the training). I have been honored to have been part of this training since 2010 (when I stepped in four of the six weekends to hold space due to some personal issues with the other assistants). In 2011, I was invited back, and have been a part of the training ever since.

It has been a huge honor to be part of this, quite daunting and overwhelming, and something I look forward to both expectantly and with a bit of fear. I know I bring a lot to the training - a bit more Kapha energy than my teacher or the other assistant. Solid, reliable, consistent. I'm the teacher that the trainees can look to when they feel unworthy or inadequate, the real evidence that there many ways to practice, to teach. I'm the one seeking out the trainees trying to hide, to crawl into corners, to disappear.

But the training weekends are quite long and somewhat overwhelming - three long days, three hot and long practices (even though I'm assisting rather than teaching or practicing, it's quite draining). 

It's another big class. 49 this year (topping last year's 46), I think they set a max of 48 but for some reason one extra person snuck in (probably someone got overlooked or verbally committed but got left off the list until the last minute). I expect we'll lose one or two this first weekend (that seems to happen every year) and hopefully we'll be left with an even number.

We have two "repeat" trainees this year - not sure what their stories are yet. We tend to have a few each year; folks who feel they need another go at it, were not in a good place the first time around, or missed the deadlines for certification. But it will be nice to see them again. Other than that, the names are (mostly) unknowns. One Facebook friend, two or three names I recognize as regular students. I'm sure once we get them all together I'll recognize others from classes. But at least 40 who are at this point, unknowns.

We have a lot of guys this year - I count 11 names in the roster that are pretty solidly male gendered (and another 5-6 that could be, although I assume not). We've never had more than 4-5 men. So that will definitely change the character of the training, and give me a bit more to do - when it comes to assisting the larger guys, I tend to be a little more involved than Nykki and Barb. Barb will come assist me at times in class, not get me to budge at all, and then whisper "you did not feel that, did you?" Sometimes, height and weight provide a bit of advantage on top of skill and experience.

I spent a bit of time last night revising a document that I created last year to file the student photos. Last year, I took the initiative to take quick headshots on the first day and create a training class "facebook" (just photos and names) for the training staff to use, it helped us all a lot to get to know folks faster. I started with the 2013 document, so I got to look one last time at the 2013 class of trainees as a group. As I sit in the sharing circle tomorrow night, I am sure I'll have that odd feeling of familiarity (30+ sharing circles over the years) and newness (in my mind, the class of 2013 are "the teacher trainees", not this circle of strangers) . And it will be my great pleasure to get to know them over the next six months.

So yeah, teacher training 2014. I have no idea how I got here, but I'm happy that my life has turned in this direction. Bring it on.

Tell Me Your Name Again....

I have this issue with people. I'm pretty sure I have exceeded my mind's capacity to retain and remember all the people in my life.

Let's see - I teach yoga. There are perhaps 60-80 people I see each week, some weekly, some occasionally, some just once or a few times. I never really get to know their names; when a regular comes in early and I can sneak out to the desk I can match a name to a person, but I'm not all that good at keeping it all straight.

Then of course, there are all the yoga teacher trainees. 48 this year, 35 or so in 2010, 2011, 2012. That's a good 120 folks to remember - and I really do struggle with many.

I move through other worlds - music (my other members of my band, the Guinea Pigs, belong to the same UU church and many of our fans come from there), ballooning (probably 50-60 people), camp (250 or so, with a broader community of past campers), and my folk festival (perhaps a core of 40 key volunteers, with another 100 or so I ought to remember but usually do not). Add in musicians I meet, folks in the local arts, cultural and GLBT worlds, folks in the greater spiritual / yoga world. And of course, my extended family - a child of two roman catholics, I have close over 50 first cousins, and now they are breeding. It's way too much.

I have (as of this morning) 466 Facebook friends, and that's even a bit low, since I (a) almost never reach out to friend people myself and (b) accept friend invitations only from folks I have actually met in real life.

Last night, at our gig, a woman who clearly knows me came up, grabbed a hug. I had no idea. Turns out she is a friend of the other band members (goes to UU church), has a yogic name (shakti) and is on the merch crew at Falcon Ridge. I had no freaking idea.

This is a problem. Not sure how to deal with it, but it's annoying, inconsiderate, and kind of rude.

Hartford Stage - Age Discrimination Fail

So Hartford Stage is marketing to the young.

Stage Pass

Introducing a $38 Unlimited Season Pass!

WHAT’S IN IT FOR YOU?

An unlimited season pass to Hartford Stage’s 2012/13 season. If you are
18–27 years old and love theatre, Stage Pass is definitely for you. Purchase a Stage Pass for only $38 – yup, that’s it – and get into every Mainstage production at Hartford Stage for the 2012/13 season. That’s basically what you would spend going to the movies twice, and just think how sophisticated you’ll sound when you tell your friends and family you are “going to the theatre tonight.” Speaking of friends, want to bring a friend when you use your Stage Pass? Go ahead and do it! Purchase up to 3 companion tickets for only $20 each.

 I'd slap a big old Facebook "Like" on that if I were not, well, 51, and therefore ineligible.  FWIW, I love the theater, and I'm not really able to afford Hartford Stage except on special occasion.

Apparently, offering a special to a particular age (and by default, not offering it to those outside of that age) is legal and socially acceptable (of course it is, look at all the senior discounts out there). But imagine if this special offer were limited to people of a certain race ("If you are white and like the theater....") or religion ("If you are non-christian, come on down...."

I get that they want to bring a younger crowd in the door, but jeez, there are ways to do that (how about targeting the offer via youth-heavy conduits such as QR Codes, twitter, handing out physical coupons at particular events) - instead of blatant age targeting (and flipping the coin over, de facto discrimination).

Instead, I'm vaguely resentful that Hartford Stage is not offering me this particular special. 

RIP Bill Morrissey

While in the merchandise trailer at Falcon Ridge on Saturday, I got the news - Bill Morrissey had passed away. Such sad news, especially when contrasted with the joyful folk community underway in Hillsdale - many artists mentioned Bill during their sets. It's going to take me a few days to come down from the Falcon Ridge high to start to process Bill's death.

Others have written more and better tributes; you can find some links on a fansite as well as a short blurb on Bill's site. I've been a fan for over two decades; having heard Handsome Molly on a Legacy compilation. After listening for many years, I got to see him play live, and was surprised at such a deep voice coming from such a slight man. I own a handful of Bill's albums (North, Standing Eight, Inside, Night Train, You'll Never Get to Heaven), and have always been struck by his portrayal of working class New England, and his bittersweet songs about relationships. But I have to say that Friend of Mine, a collaboration with Greg Brown, remains a favorite. Just two good friends, sitting around with a couple of guitars and trading licks, verses, and laughs.

As I unwound from the folk fest, I put five of Bill's CDs that I own into the CD player. The very first notes of Pantherville brought me back to the early 90's - I covered that tune at open mics for a while. Married Man is both hopeful and tickles the funny bone. Handsome Molly, the first song to draw me in; think that's Suzanne Vega on backing vocals. These Cold Fingers - a darker song foretelling perhaps some of his personal struggles. Off-White is another beautiful relationship song, kind of reminds me of David Mallett's "I've Been Around."

Night Train features Birches, one of my favorite songs about relationship - the metaphors and imagery are so beautiful. And on that album, the sad (right now) Letter from Heaven and Time To Go Home

All in all it's amazing how little the quality and tone of his songs changed from the earlier CDs to the later ones. he got a little darker, a little more serious, but one could drop a random song from the earlier days into the later albums and it would not be that out of place.

This year, Falcon Ridge featured a tribute to Jack Hardy who also passed away this year. Folk music has lost a couple of good ones. So it was so sweet to rub elbows with and lend my ears to those still with us - John Gorka, Greg Brown, Eliza Gilkyson, Lucy Kaplansky, Mary Gauthier, so many more.....

Underwood Typewriter

I gave away my typewriter.

It was an electric model - an Underwood 565 (I think) that my parents gave me for graduation. I say my parents, because sometime between purchasing it and my graduation day, my dad passed away - it was perhaps the last gift he bought for me and a typewriter as a gift has his hand all over it. I had not remembered that fact until sitting down to write this - on a Dell keyboard and an internet blog - and not on my Underwood typewriter. This fact saddens me a little; although it needed to go regardless. When it comes to sentimental remembrances of dad - his St. Christopher medal (which he wore constantly throughout his marriage and adult life) and his bowling ball (a 16-pounder that I have bowled a few rounds with back in the day) will have to do.....

But back to the typewriter. I made my way through high school with an old 1920's vintage Underwood (one of those big cast iron things) that I fed with corrosable onion skin paper (the better to type head-to-paper, as was my wont back in the day). It was a beast - and it survived into my adulthood, sitting in my basement in Waterbury until I decided to discard it (no freecycle or craigslist back then, but I left it on a table at the curb and it found a home before trash day). The electric model went with me to college, where it was sporadically used (not a lot of call for typewriters in engineering school) although I did peck out an Interactive Qualifying Project (IQP) on the MA Bottle Deposit Law (fairly new at the time and resonant with my working at a package store), as well as an analysis of the Who's "Tommy" using classical techniques. A handful of treatised on Shakespeare and classical music (in retrospect, I took a lot of non-engineering courses). Also a couple of dozen long winded letters to my buddy Jim out at Univ of Chicago. Think I still have one of those (written out, not typed) floating around here somewhere. I ought to send it to him, for the heck of it. Here's who we were, way back then.....

So, after having moved the typewriter several times (home and office) without removing it from the case, it was time to find a home for it. A lovely young woman and perhaps boyfriend stopped by tonight. I asked if she were a writer and she said no, but "....my favorite poet used an Underwood."

It has a good home and a new life, and will do the things a typewriter was born to do. And I have one less piece of stuff in my life. And the technology, plastic, and metal avoided the landfill.

Yogic unattachment? Getting old and realizing that life will not go on forever? Just getting tired of carrying stuff around? Not sure.....