Posts Tagged ‘Alex’


So, belatedly, here’s the photo of the quilt Mirra and I made for Alex’s nephew, Domenic. We made one for his adorable baby brother, Mathis, when he was born (along with several other people) and when Domenic saw me making it he asked me in a little voice if I could make one for him. We were going to embroider it, like we did for Mathis’ one, but we didn’t have enough time, so Mirra (by far the better artist between the two of us) drew the pictures and I pieced it together. Domenic was so happy he started breakdancing.

And while I’m stealing pictures from Jane’s facebook (Jane is Alex’s sister, who lives in New York and has a ukulele that I covet), here’s one of Alex playing with his younger sisters:And here’s a picture of a bald eagle (which are almost as common as crows around here):

And the Alaskan mountains on the way to Anchorage

And, finally, Alex and the other Ionians going to Hawaii:

In my life: time is going a lot faster than I expected. I’m cooking a lot and doing some writing and I sent two letters out to agents yesterday, which made me crumple in anxiety. I can’t help but think that if Alex and Mirra were here they’d make that all better, which seems irrational, but might just be true. I can contemplate doing all sorts of things with them that, when I’m alone make me shrink in terror. They’re like lucky charms; if only they were the kind I could carry around in my pocket this would all be a whole lot easier.

Mirra says time is going a lot faster for her as well; she’s taking violin lessons, and they’re going amazingly well. Not surprising to me- I’d be shocked if there was any stringed instrument she couldn’t just pick up and play. And Alex says he’s doing well in Hawaii, although I heard the air conditioning is busted and all the kids are getting sunburns and eating too much fruit.

A few days ago, when I wrote the last depressing post, I was feeling very miserable and questioning the project. The emptiness of the place, and the absence of Mirra and Alex… but now I’m really optimistic. I think that this break is going to give all of us a chance to revive and strengthen before we plunge into trying to make money and plan our trip in Falmouth. I’m super excited now, but I’m also okay with waiting a few days.



zero to sixty

picture by Claire

Enjoying my cake

Luckily the cake didn’t make Alex or I more sick. Unluckily, Mirra succumbed. The uneaten portion of her cake is sitting untended in the mudroom and I’m contemplating it.

Suddenly, busy-ness came upon us. The macrobiotic course started- and it’s awesome- but it’s like we went from not zero, since we were already a little slammed with everything we have to do for this project, but maybe twenty to sixty. The course is all day, everyday, with evenings free, but no other time to do household chores, etc. So the dishes are piling up and the compost bucket is full and I’m trying to work myself up to doing one or both of them.

We’re thinking about taking a hiatus on walkabout stuff until we meet again in Falmouth- Mirra is leaving the day after the course ends and then I’m going to the conference and then Alex is leaving. And meantime we all have to pack and Alex and I have to clean the house that *sob* we’re leaving. I love the peace of the house, the quiet evenings we spend here, the impromptu dinner parties. The large bed in the living room (for hanging out on) the map on the coffee table reminding us of our adventure.

None of this would have happened if I hadn’t made cake with Cirrus one day; I invited Saori to my corner to have some, and then Alex came with her and I gave him a piece and we were talking and he mentioned he was thinking of moving into a cabin and I said I was too and we decided to move in together. And then, suddenly, Alex is one of my best friends and we’re talking and this idea falls out and changes the way I think about my life. And now we’re talking about spending well over a year- maybe two years- together, first working for the trip and then the trip and then writing the book afterwards (with Mirra too, of course) and I’m thinking ‘how did this happen? We were hardly even friends three months ago. Alex (and Pavel) picked me up from the airport when I arrived at Ionia. I remember him, so long and thin, carrying my luggage up the stairs in the hotel. It’s strange how in your memories of people before they are really your friends and in those you form after it’s almost as if you’re thinking about two different people. Ten months ago Alex and I didn’t really get along- ten months ago Mirra and I didn’t really like each other. And now we’re planning this trip. Now, when I’m upset I go looking for one or both of them. It’s crazy. It’s amazing.

I don’t know if it’s all communities, but at Ionia there is a undercurrent of love that sweeps under all of us. I love almost everyone at Ionia- certainly everyone I know well. Sometimes we cuddle on one of the couches, a big pile of us, teenagers and adults and children reaffirming that we’re there for each other. Or when we clean up and everyone’s singing along with the music, moving with so much energy through the kitchen, or when we’re just talking around the tempcast and I think: how could I leave this? I’m not really a social person. My social I.Q. is at around seventy. But I’ve figured out, over the course of my life, that I’m never going to make it alone. So I don’t know what I would do without Alex and Mirra- and I don’t know what I would have done if we’d never come up with this. Because it tears me up to leave- Connor and Sammy and Claire and Saori and Katie and the baby and Juliet and Eliza and Rosie and Ellen and everyone, a little hole for each of them- it tears me up when people leave and when I leave and if I wasn’t bringing some of Ionia with me- if Mirra and Alex weren’t bringing Ionia to me- then I don’t know what I would do.