Rebellion 2010

I'm heading off in two days on an epic adventure. If I survive the snow, cold, and four days with my daredevil mother, I'll tell you all about it when I come back.

Half of my family – my sister and father – are also leaving in two days, to go on their second annual cross-country ski trip in Baxter State Park in northern Maine. There, they will ski 14+ miles each day, traveling from one cabin to the next, transporting their supplies on their backs, wearing the same underwear day after day to avoid carrying extra weight. They will eat their lunches each day standing up, because where can you comfortably sit in February in Baxter State Park in three-plus feet of snow? In the evenings, when they arrive at their cabins, they will hasten to light a fire to warm up, then cook unappetizing camping meals like macaroni and cheese with beans and tofu mixed in, accompanied by bread baked in a plastic bag; for dessert they will consume brownies from a mix, burned on the bottom, raw on top. To train for the trip, they strapped on their skis and filled backpacks with rocks. Sounds like fun, right?

The other (better) half of the family, me and my mom, were not invited. We may not be as athletic or wilderness survival-savvy; we may not know how to work a camping stove or, in my case, own any pants that are not made of cotton, but no one can accuse us of being any less foolhardy. And so, we planned our own trip, which we call “Rebellion 2010.” Coincidentally, we will be traveling on the same days as the other trip – they go by the moniker “Camping Snobs 2010” – and we will also be in northern Maine, just a smidge southeast of Baxter (but no, we won't be carpooling with CS2010). We will travel from one Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC) hut to the next, skiing between 9 and 11 miles per day.

A photo from CS '09: Dad takes a tumble

And there, the similarities end. Mom and I have not been training with rock-filled backpacks, because we will not be transporting our own gear; the AMC is kindly taking care of that for us. We will change our underwear at LEAST twice during the four days we will be away. We are not choosing which headlamps, skis and long underwear to bring, because we own one (or one pair) of each, unlike the participants of CS2010, who each own enough gear to outfit a small army of skiers. We are not spending our weekend weighing oatmeal and calculating how many calories we will need for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, because our minions will be cooking these meals for us. And the most important item to pack? Our bikinis, for the end-of-trip sauna. I'm hoping it will be reminiscent of Spa Castle. Who knows, maybe they'll throw in a pedicure, too.

As long as we don't die, I think Rebellion 2010 will be a lot of fun. Much more fun, of course, than Camping Snobs 2010. Unfortunately, neither my mom nor I knows how to work a compass, which we will need to do to find our way from one hut to the next. And, while my mom has been skiing quite a bit lately, the last time I went was two years ago; I went about two miles before I headed for home, with the strong conviction that I had worked enough to deserve a hot chocolate with a little special something mixed in. But I'm sure we'll figure it out, and I am definitely going to be earning enough hot chocolates to get me through the rest of winter, and maybe through 2011 as well.

Back On the Wagon

I fell off the wagon today for a little while. It happened while I was shopping for cookie ingredients on Centre Street, on the way to a cookie-baking get-together at my sister's house. I was feeling proud of myself because I managed to get my car out and on the road all by myself, despite a dump of about six inches of snow that would have kept me house-bound for days if I were still in New York. Two teenage girls came along as I was digging my car out, and they offered to help and gave me suggestions (such as, “if you dig one front wheel out, you should be able to pull out.”) So I was feeling pretty happy and good about my fellow Bostonians when I went down to Centre Street, found a spot outside the grocery store, and parked my car while I went in to grab a few ingredients for the cookies.

But when I came out of the grocery store, I found a policeman there who had just finished putting a ticket on my car, and this is when I fell off the wagon. As I picked up the ticket and went after him to ask why he had given it to me, I had a moment of feeling very, very sorry for myself. I just moved to this city, I don't have friends here, I got turned down for a job back in New York last week that I was excited about, I'm living off unemployment, and now the parking ticket that I can't afford to pay. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. I asked the policeman in the most polite voice I could muster why I had gotten the ticket, and he said, “Emergency snow removal. It's all over the news.” I started to cry and choked on my words as I asked him how much the fine was.

I drove over to my sister's with tears streaming down my face, and simultaneously gave myself a talking-to. “Refarling, you have absolutely no reason to feel bad for yourself. This is unacceptable. You have a master's degree in education, your boyfriend was an asshole who you're better off without AND he is soon going to be replaced by a better boyfriend, the job in New York wasn't that great anyway, and you're lucky to be receiving unemployment money. You had a fantastic vacation last week, and now you're off to spend Christmas with your wonderful family. And, as if that weren't enough, you get to go spend the afternoon making cookies with your great sister and her awesome friends.”

And I was right. I am really lucky for all these reasons and even more. People in Boston are very nice, as evidenced by my sister's neighbor, who, when I arrived outside her house with red-rimmed eyes, kindly offered me a shovel to dig myself a parking spot. As I type this, I have, literally, a pile of adorable kittens lying on me, as well as a very cute bird nearby who (now that La Moustache is out of the picture) is dedicated heart and soul to me. I have amazing friends throughout the world who would welcome a visit from me anytime, and I am making new friends in Boston. Really, it doesn't get a lot better than this, and it is just plain silly to feel bad for myself when I have so much going for me. And best of all, parking tickets in Boston are about $70 cheaper than they are in New York.