In Sink Erator Spit Up

Our apartment came equipped with an "In Sink Erator" that grinds up and distributes food particles into the gray water system in the drains. I always imagine that little bits of potato peels and egg shells go whizzing away to Moscow's waste water treatment plant where some minion has the depressing job of sieving the minuscule particles out of the water. A noble job for imagine the commotion if someone turned on their tap and out came "In Sink Erator" scuzz! Ugh.

Well, today, I was thinking about the minion while doing the dishes and little particles of onion, garlic, and carrot were floating around in the dish water. When I was finished, I pulled the plug and watched the gray-particle-food-sudsy water sink down the drain. Except that, unlike normal when the drain just sucks down the dirty water, this time the water just kind of acted like a swamp and sat there. I could picture the breeding ground for mosquitos in the sludgey water.

Sometimes, when the "In Sink Erator" is full, it needs to be "burbed" so the water will properly go down the drain. Thinking this was the problem and cause of the sludge-water swamp, I casually turned on the faucet and fliped the "In Sink Erator" switch. Oh my goodness! The "In Sink Erator" didn't just need to be burbed! It positively had the FLU! Grey Water came voming out of the drain, swooshing up onto the clean dishes and spewed all over me! Yuck! I turned off the switch before the device could continue up-chucking. But, the swamp water still remained! What to do!?

Well, I did what all brave men and women must do at some point in their lives. I flipped the switch and awaited the purge. Again, the grey water swilled out of the drain, swished around the sink, and spit up spectacularly on the counter! I turned off the switch and watched as the water slowly circled round the drain. It was a half-inch less this time! So, I did it again. And out came the gray water throwing up its "In Sink Erator" contents all over the sink. Little bits of carrot, onion, and potato floated around in the In Sink Erator spit up.

But, there was some success. The water was slowly sinking down the drain and out of sight. Had the "In Sink Erator" finally de-bugged? I decided to leave it at that and hope (and pray!) that all the peels, shells, and vegetable gunk had successfully decided to float down the tunnel and off to the land of the gray water treatment plant. But, the real test will come tomorrow. Will there be another episode? Will the "In Sink Erator" be feeling like its normal garbage gut self? Will the flu persist? I sincerely hope so. And I will be there watching its every burping move.

Freezing Fog

Moscow's weather always seems to be in flux. In a single winter day we can have sun, rain, sleet, snow, hail, fog, and sun again. It makes it hard to figure out what protective outerwear to tote around on a daily basis (should I bring the puffy, the hardshell, the softshell, the rain coat, or the fancy coat plus umbrella?).

But, one of the most predictable aspects of Moscow weather in the wintertime is an absence of sun. This is a result of two things normally. One, Moscow is located in a very northern latitude so the sun rises late and sets early (like we have sun from 8 am to 4 pm on the darkest days of the year). Two, the mountain affect just seems to make weather bog down here on the Palouse.

So, for the last week, we've had "freezing fog." The fog has just been stuck right on top of Moscow and it hasn't lifted for a week (give or take the occasional 30 minutes of sun). On top of just fog, it's been extremely damp fog that freezes onto the trees in unique crystalline patterns. It makes for beautiful decorations on the trees, grasses, and buildings.


But, the freezing fog is also down right cold! Not near the cold the Midwest has been having, but bone-chilling cold. The kind that sinks right through your coat, sweater, skin, and begins to make you shake in that bone-rattling way that only the damp, the fog, and the lack of sun can cause. I've been colder this week with temperatures ranging around freezing than I was in December when our highs were around zero degrees.

We've been making the most of it, though, by trying to go on little bike rides around Moscow. We managed to go on a surprisingly sunny Sunday morning. At first, our ride seemed pretty successful. We got out on the path and cycled around. But, after about 10 minutes out and maybe a half mile down, our toes, fingers, and ears started freezing. We made it a mile and a half before turning into a nearby coffee shop to thaw out with a cuppa.

Even though the frozen fog is pretty, I can tell my tolerance for it is shot. SEND ME SOME VITAMIN D, SUNSHINE, HAPPINESS, COME ON!! Maybe my plea will help. Then again, even a snow storm would be a nice change from the gloomy fog.

Operation: Rattle

During the Light Up the Night Parade in December, Esther and Jon wandered into the Gem State Crystals store on Main Street. They walked out 15 minutes later exclaiming that a rattle snake lived in the gem store and it was, in fact, the store's guardian. Thus, Operation: Rattle began.

The plan was for Matthew or I to casually walk into the bike store, saunter up to Brian, and whisper "Operation: Rattle" into his ear. That was the signal to head out onto Main Street and into Gem State Crystals on a mission to spot the rattler.

As part of the not-quite-related-Operation: Moscow Brian and I wandered into Gem State Crystals the following week to check out the snake. A world of crystals opened to us as a tinkling bell signaled our arrival. Soft moss-green carpet covered the floor, decorative baskets and artwork covered the walls. Around the periphery of the room, cases with gems of all sizes, shapes, and colors beckoned us to examine their intricacies. But our mission was clear: find the snake. The gems, however, distracted us.

There were gems from Africa, Mexico, the USA, Australia, the world over. There were blues, greens, pearls, diamonds, purples, oranges, stalactites, crystals, rocks of every size, shape, and texture imaginable. A column of amethysts. Crystal book ends. Delicately carved stone roses. It was a sensory overload.

And finally, there was the Idaho Gem Case.

The Idaho Gem Case, named for Idaho's distinction of being the Gem State in the Union, was an ordinary wooden case filled with local gems. But that ordinary case became extraordinary as we gazed further into its depths and realized the "sculpture" of a rattle snake was in fact the rattle snake we had come to see!

Its flat triangular head was covered in thick diamond scales that ran down its length and ended in a massive rattle. I resisted the urge to tap the case and instead determinately stared into its beady eyes. It was pretty indifferent - bored, in fact. And in a semi-state of hibernation, it could care less about the mayhem outside its Idaho case. Never the less, it was the closest I have ever been to a rattle snake.

The Gem Store had a list of rattle facts above the case, where we learned that the rattle does not act as a way to age the snake, that rattle snakes can shed several times a year, and that this snake was about 20. Hm.

The shop owners asked if we had any questions, and so here it began.... I asked the snake's name and learned it was Buddy. Buddy, apparently, likes to eat mice that the owners get from the pet shop. And, on Saturday mornings from April until October, you can go watch them feed Buddy. There's nothing like a trip to the Farmer's Market culminating in hanging out with kids at the "Buddy the Snake Feed" activity! I know where I'll be this April.

Buddy was found as a wee tiny snake outside the gem store 20 years ago after the homecoming parade. The owners think he fell out of a hay bale from one of the floats. They suspect this origin because several more baby rattle snakes were found squished outside the Kibbie Dome where the parade concludes. They decided to save this little snake and he's been with them since.

Since Operation: Rattle 1, we have conducted this mission several times of the last few months. Each time, we gain new information about the snake, and gems. It's become a regular tourist attraction because what's better than looking at crystals and staring a rattle snake in the eyes?!

Another Iowan

Moscow is a pretty small world. Since it's a small, hip, liberal town in "no where" Idaho, it draws all sorts of people. And all those sorts of people seem to know someone who knew someone who was buddies with someone who decided to go to school here and found out it was a cool place and told someone to come too, who told someone else to come, who spread the word and suggested to someone else to also came to Moscow. Follow that? It's full of people from the same place who may or may not realize they actually know each other when they really do.

While walking around with my friend, Anne, who just moved here from Colorado, we discovered that our friend Caroline is one and the same. Not only that, but Caroline and Anne went to college in Tennessee together. And their moms went to school together too. And now Caroline and Anne both live in Idaho. This small world connection was made even more acute by the fact that Caroline is dating Russ, who is one of Brian's friends from growing up in Rapid City. And Russ' sister, Emily, and I have been friends since I first moved here in 2002. We all knew each other without knowing we knew each other until this fall. To top it all off, Anne and I were both talking about the same Caroline who was sponsoring a party with Russ and Emily that just happened to be the same circus party. Now, even in a town like Moscow, circus parties are pretty rare, but this was quite the circle of coincidences.

Well, today, I was sitting in the coffee shop, and this girl looked at me and said, "I think I know you. You're Nancy, right?" Yes, I am indeed Nancy. Then she said, "We used to work together in Barnes and Noble." Well, that took me back about nine years ago to working in Barnes and Noble Coffee Shop in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, which was then the height of cool. She said she's Suzy, and then I remembered her. And I remembered the fact that at Barnes and Noble, I not only worked with Suzy but I also worked with her brother, Zach, who is still, apparently, friends with my brother, Dan. And what's even weirder is that I have only met one other Iowan in Moscow, but never someone from CEDAR RAPIDS, my home town. What a small world.

And then, later today, I met another Iowan. We, Midwesterners, are flooding the west.

Autumn

I sat curled in an armchair in Café Barista, when the rains began to fall. Heavy grey drops of water bounced off the cement and formed puddles in the parking lot. The smell of wet, earthy rain wafted in from the open door. I let my book close on my lap and sat staring out at the rain shower. The loneliness birds, as described by Bryce Courtenay, sat uncomfortably by me, squawking hungrily for my memories of rainy days. This late September shower sent me instantly back to a quiet evening at the end of October two years before….

In Moscow, Idaho, I sat reading at a wooden table in One World Café. Soft, warm light lit the coffee shop and the permeating smell of freshly ground coffee filled my nose. I lifted my cup of steaming hot cider to my lips, inhaling the autumn smells of apples and cinnamon before I took a sip of the amber liquid.

At 5:00, the fall light had faded, leaving Main Street dark. The store and street lights illuminated pools of the dark, autumn street. Little children, dressed as ghosts, Spiderman, and princesses, marched along the streets. Their parents led them into the brightly colored shops to collect Halloween candies. At the counter, Deanna greeted the children gleefully and handed them a brightly colored sucker, while Gaby, in a witch hat, cackled at them. The parents and children smiled, said their thanks, and walked back out the door into the cold night.

I watched the parades of children walk by and remembered the fateful Halloween at the age of 8 in Cedar Rapids. Halloween in Iowa was always cold and rainy. That year, my cousin Emily visited from Minneapolis. For Halloween, she dressed as Snow White while I sported a white sheet fashioned as a ghost. Predictably it was pouring. Even the cheerful carved pumpkins we had on the porch glistened with the fat, wet drops from the storm. I remember poor Emily got soaked in her Snow White costume, while I, under my ghost sheet, stayed dry in my raincoat.

The sound of the espresso grinder pulled me back to Moscow 14 years later. I heard the raspy sound of dry maple leaves skittering across the ground as a light breeze picked up. The sidewalk was littered with yellow, red, orange, and brown maple leaves. Slowly, plop by plop and drop by drop, the rain began. It was always raining at the end of October in Moscow. As if the weather gods knew it was nearly Halloween, they summoned the rains. Cold and wet, the rain that soaks into your bones and into your very being began to fall melancholically from the sky.

Gavin, sitting at the next table, looked up at me and we both sighed inwardly, knowing the rains had come again to Moscow. The next day at the Farmer’s Market was bound to be a cold one. We watched the heavy drops fall determinately past the window. The leaves, now shining from the rain, began to smell of that organic earth, the magic smell of rain-mixed leaves. It was the smell that always reminded me of autumn. I breathed in the earthy smell, glad to be safely inside the coffee shop, but knowing I could avoid the inevitable only a little longer. The rains in Moscow never end. They continue on and on, breaking briefly before persisting to fall until an occasional snowfall or summer comes again.

I slowly drank the final remains of my now cold cider, feeling the thick, powerful taste of wet cinnamon fill my mouth. It was time to brave the rain. Shrugging on my raincoat and stepping out in the rain, I unlocked my soaking bicycle and turned on its headlight. Swiftly I mounted the blue Bianchi and began peddling the rain soaked streets towards home on Lily Street. That bone-chilling night finished with a hot shower, a movie, and more warm cider from our recent trip to the apple orchard. I felt safe and warm. I remember a broad smile crossing my face as I excitedly anticipated the prospect of pasties, pumpkin carving, and Halloween extravaganzas that Moscow’s rains brought with it.

Now, two years later, sitting in the quiet coffee shop on Vista Hermosa, I can feel the slow, sad smile that characterizes my loneliness cross my pale face. As I sat watching, the rain continued to fall on this September day, just as it did in my Moscow memory of two years prior. Would the rain bring the same treats as in Moscow? Would there be pumpkins to carve for Halloween? Cider to sip? Apple pie to eat?

I could feel the loneliness birds hopping around me, feeding off my memory of beloved fall in Moscow. Is it foolish of me to have such profound thoughts and feelings about this other place thousands of miles away? The grass is greener on the other side of the fence, they say. I’m sure nostalgia will overcome me when I leave Guatemala. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that my soul has grown older, wiser perhaps, since my last international hiatus. The feeling of home, of sense of place, of community is deeply bound in me. It is conceptualized in the golden wheat fields and distant forest-green mountains surrounding Moscow, Idaho.

Home. Home found in the brilliant fall colors and eternal rains of Moscow. Home realized in the cool nights and warm days of early autumn. Home felt in the first bite of pumpkin pie, the first sip of dark 1554, the first sight of the leaves true colors. Home discovered in the taste of freshly harvested honeycomb from Iowa. Home experienced by watching Dracula, Wallace and Gromit, and Frankenstein on Halloween night. Home witnessed with the powerful golden light of the sun slipping sleepily below the autumn horizon. Home so powerfully located with people, places, and the beautiful rituals we create to show the passing of seasons. For me, this deep, profound feeling is that of being and feeling and experiencing my favorite time of year. It is of knowing there are apples to pick, cider to press, pumpkins to cook down, pie to bake, and leaves to throw joyously in the air. My autumn, my Moscow, my home.

Happy autumn.