Three Words to Describe Dave

Last week Dave and I were in NYC for a few days. If you’re thinking to yourself, “Why didn’t she end that first sentence with an exclamation point because NYC!”, I’ll tell you why. We were there for me to get scanned, which I have to do every four months for a few years. So, yeah, no exclamation point. BUT, per usual, my amazing husband somehow made a trip that could have been all about stress and worry into, instead, a trip that was filled with diversionary events that made the stress almost disappear! Yes, that sentence demanded an exclamation point. 

We went to a Yankees game, via the subway. (Hey, NYC, for being the tourist mecca that you are, your subway maps and instructions need some serious work--I’ll address this fiasco in a future post.) We saw Giancarlo Stanton hit a home run! We saw Judge get a nice hit. We explored the stadium during the two hour rain delay :) 

We went to the Met and saw Shaker furniture, some intriguing modern art and even a couple of Botticellis and Van Goghs. 

We had dinners that were up there in our top ten list of meals we’ve eaten. And at one of these dinners, the night before my doctor’s appointment, Dave started a kind of game that proved to be the perfect antidote to my mind wandering down rabbit holes.

He asked me what three words would I use to describe him. And three words to describe each of our kids. And our siblings. And our parents. It was a task that required some serious thought on more than a few different levels. It was a great distraction that sparked thoughtful, fun and spirited conversation. It was the perfect diversion. 

We spent a good portion of our meal describing everyone in our immediate family, and rationalizing to each other why we chose each word, because we did not choose the same words, and yet we agreed that the words we each chose all were quite apt. 

So I want to share three words that I think epitomize Dave. This is not easy to do, by the way, because Dave defies limited descriptors. He’s got a staggering amount of character. By no means is Dave limited to these three words, just sayin’. 

Devoted. My six foot six husband has a heart the size of his height, and his heart is owned by his kids. As they say in baseball, ownage is ownage. There is nothing he would not do for them. They are the light of his life. You can hear it when he talks about them and you can see it when he is with them. 

And as Dave reads this for the first time, right about now he’ll be thinking, “Hey, don’t forget that you (me) are the light of my life, too.” I’m not saying this because I’m all that. I’m saying this because I know how he feels, and I have no doubt in my mind that I am his number one priority. That’s not to say that the kids are not his number one priority. Of course they are, too. But they are adults, living independently. When they need something, they are absolutely the priority. But it’s somewhat few and far between these days that the kids need something (kudos to me and Dave for raising kids who have strong problem-solving skills) . They are off being grown-ups making their own decisions, as it should be. And this past year has... (I’m searching for the right word here and I want to say evinced,  except that evinced means revealed, and it’s not that I didn’t already know this, it’s that it re-evinced, which is not a word... still searching...) Okay, going with re-evinced (yes, I’m going with a word I just invented). So let me start that whole sentence over so you can understand it, because that was not the best example of clarity.

This past year has re-evinced Dave’s devotion to me. During a time that could have crushed the spirit of almost any spouse, it did the opposite to Dave. Every time the situation got more difficult, and I would start to feel despondent, Dave would reinvigorate me with love and optimism and tenacity. He did not even blink when it came to putting my needs first. It was just second-nature to him. In hind-sight, I can very clearly see the fact that he has always put my needs first, before his. His devotion has been constant for the past twenty-six years. 

So that was my first word to describe Dave, in case my lengthy explanation of that made you forget what I was doing in the first place. 

My second word was wise. I chose that word very specifically. It doesn’t mean the same thing as smart. It means so much more than smart. It means having good judgement. It means having experience and learning from experience. It means listening well and being able to discern what is important. It means being able to see the big picture and seeing more than one move ahead. It means being able to see options for response, instead of just seeing one narrow path. Let me illustrate how to use this in a sentence so you will best understand my gist: I am smart. Dave is wise. 

My third word was... actually, I think I came up with a few, but the one I’m going to go with here is confident. Confident is not an easy thing to be. Most people I know are not confident. We all doubt our abilities. We are uncertain of our talents. We are apprehensive to try things at which we are not sure we will succeed. It’s not that Dave never doubts himself. It’s just that he never lets his doubt get in the way of what he wants or needs to accomplish. He is confident he will do his best at whatever he does. His effort is never less than one-hundred percent, and he doesn’t dwell on failure because he knows he will get better if he continues to try. He is not afraid or hesitant to try, and try again. His confidence is contagious, and I’m so grateful for it. 

I am so grateful for him.

Thanks So Much, and You Have a Great Weekend, Too

"Hello?"
"Hello, is Kimberley there?"
"This is she." (That's what I said, but in my head I was thinking oh shit, what organization is going to ask me for my money today...)
"Hi Kimberley. I don't want to take up too much of your time, but I wanted to let you know that in the upcoming election for DA, the Police Association supports Ann Marie Schubert. Can we count on your vote for Ann Marie?" Right to the point! Nice!

Okay, now there's a couple of ways to go here.

I could just hang up. But I never do that. It's rude. (Although if I try to get a few words in and the person on the other end just will NOT let me speak, then I will hang up. Because then THEY are being rude, not me.)

I could simply respond in the way that will most expediently and politely get me off the phone and say, "Why yes, you absolutely can count on my vote!" and be done with it. But again, I never do that (unless it's true) because I don't want to lie (plus, if you say yes right away I'm pretty sure they will switch gears and ask you for a donation to the campaign).

What I did do was to answer honestly.

"Well, I'm actually one of those people who like to research the candidates, especially in a race as important as DA in times like these. It seems to me that Ms. Schubert has done a decent job so far, but I know there is a man challenging her and running slightly to her left, so I'd like to look into why he's running and the changes he thinks are needed before I commit my vote." This is the point when the conversation can easily go south, when the person on the other end of the line starts talking at you, instead of to you.

"Ma'am, I completely understand that. And I appreciate that you are taking the time to do that." OK, very nice. I like being appreciated.

"Thank you, and I appreciate knowing that the police are supporting Ms. Schubert. I will tuck that piece of information away and consider it as I make my decision." Returned the appreciation, did not relinquish my vote, and kept a smile in my voice. The lady on the other end sounds quite nice, actually.

"Ma'am, thank you so much for your time today. Please consider that Assemblyman Jim Cooper and all five Sacramento County Supervisors also support Ms. Schubert, along with the Deputy Sheriff's Association." More information for me to use as I begin my due diligence. And most impressively, she hasn't badgered me at all. She has not bashed the opposing candidate. She hasn't pushed me. She hasn't asked for money.

"Thank you. I definitely will take that into consideration. And thanks so much for taking your time to do this and be part of the process. I appreciate what you do." We're both going to gag on mutual appreciation at any moment.

"Thank you. And you have a great weekend, ma'am. Thank you for listening."

And really, that's all I did was listen. That's not hard to do when the speaker is being respectful.

"Thanks so much, and you have a great weekend, too."

And that was that.

Flat Out Racism

I'll have a venti half-shot low-fat decaf almond milk latte, no whip. And please hold the racism.

I said please, so I'm sure everything will be fine.

I'm following the story of the two young men who were taken into custody in a Philadelphia Starbucks earlier this week.

In case you missed it, two twenty-three year old black men arrived at their local Starbucks to meet a friend for a business meeting. One of them asked the woman at the register if he could use the restroom. She informed him that bathrooms were for paying customers only. He did not protest or ask again. He simply sat down with his friend to wait for their business associate to arrive.

The barista came over to ask them if they wanted water or drinks. They politely declined. The barista called the police.

WTF? The barista called the police?

I've been to Starbucks and sat for twenty minutes without ordering anything. Never been arrested. And no barista has EVER come out from behind the counter and come to my table to ask me if I wanted to order anything. It's a Starbucks. You order at the counter.

Why did this barista (I really hate that word) feel the need to call police to come get two well-behaved young men sitting quietly at their table?

If you say anything except racism you're living in denial. It wasn't "unconscious bias". That's giving someone an excuse for something that is inexcusable. Even Starbucks executive chairman, Howard Schultz, knows why his employee called the police. "There's no doubt in my mind that the reason that police were called was because they were African American."

I'm not really sure where I'm going with any of this. I certainly don't have a solution to the problem of racism. Nobel Prize to me if I did. I do, however, very much appreciate that Starbucks is not taking this lightly. They are closing all of their stores for an afternoon to do training to make sure this doesn't happen again.

It will happen again. But maybe not at Starbucks, and that's a start. And to those who think that Starbucks is only doing the training "for their corporate image" and that their actions really don't mean anything, I would ask has any other company or organization ever done anything like this in the wake of racist accusations? I can't think of any. And also, have you ever heard a company CEO or COO say anything like this: "Our practices and training led to the bad outcome." That's a quote from Kevin Johnson, the company's chief executive. That's putting it on the line. That is the opposite of passing the buck (note to Trump: You see? Taking responsibility for your actions CAN be done!).

I know that one of the most frequent responses to crisis these days is to boycott, or to disengage from a company. In the wake of the Parkland shootings, I discontinued my account on TripAdvisor (and several other companies) because of their association with the NRA. I get the tactic. It works. After a few days these companies discontinued their association with the NRA (there were probably a few other people who stopped using these companies, but in my mind it was MY politely-worded email and withdrawal that tipped the scales).

But I am not going to boycott Starbucks. Because Starbucks DID something. They did something IMMEDIATELY. They did not hem and haw and try to run from it. They clearly identified the problem and their part in perpetuating the problem. They took responsibility and arranged a first step in ensuring that this doesn't happen again in their establishments.

So Starbucks will not be receiving a polite email from me telling them that they no longer have my business (not that this would have scared them considering the number of times I actually frequent Starbucks). Instead they will be receiving a polite email congratulating them on owning up to a problem that is pervasive, and that maybe we all might be complicit in even though we might not want to admit it.

You have my business, Starbucks, and my admiration for setting an example in what it looks like to own up to being part of a problem.

The C Word

Not that one. No one should EVER use that one.

The C Word I'm talking about is the one that used to be employed by well-intentioned people everywhere to signal that in order to get something they wanted, they were willing to give up something in exchange.

How did compromise come to be a dirty word?

George Washington warned against a two party system in his farewell address, but since his cautions were promptly ignored, our congressional representatives in the House and the Senate have been perfecting the art of the give-and-take for over 250 years. In this great nation of ours, it has been the norm that 535 grown men (with perhaps a statistically irrelevant number of women here and there) would discuss, argue, cajole, persuade, and yes, compromise in order to get the job of running the nation done.

No more. The "art of the deal" is dead. The idea that no one gets everything but everyone gets something has been replaced by the notion that no one gets anything they want but everyone gets a little bit of what no one wants.

So we have an omnibus bill, signed sealed and delivered, that increases the national debt, increases military spending, does nothing regarding DACA and does not contribute to building a border wall.

Is there an opposite of zero-sum game?

What happened to one side saying they refuse to contribute to the increase in the national debt, the other side saying fine but we have to raise taxes in order to increase military spending, the first side saying no we're not raising taxes we have to cut some existing programs, the other side saying fine but not entitlement programs designed to aid the low-income families, etc... ?

We need the back and forth, the give and take.

Is either side even listening to one another anymore, or is everyone involved just playing Follow the Leader? Demeaning nicknames, pointless criticism and dismissal of facts all fit neatly into 144 characters. Thoughtful solutions to difficult problems require more than an opposable thumb.

"Grass Roots" seems to be a current buzzword. The idea that things come from the ground up instead of the top down has taken hold in this nation. What if we apply that approach with the intent of reinstating compromise as a welcome tool with which to solve problems?

I imagine moms and dads teaching their kids what it means to compromise at a young age, kindergarten maybe? It's not a difficult concept. It's easily demonstrated. Grade schoolers would comprehend this idea.

So kids grow up understanding and employing compromise as part of their skillset.

These kids grow into young adults, who expand their use of compromise into more complex situations.

And before you know it (ok, a generation from now) we have members of our government at all levels not just solving problems, but talking WITH one another and not just AT each other. Maybe the "us vs. them" is replaced by "we're all in this together."

It's the pollyanna in me. I realize this is far too simplistic a solution to a deeply entrenched and exceedingly convoluted problem. But why not try? Who is going to argue against teaching our children the art of compromise?

We have to start somewhere.

Tales from the Trip: London/Paris (Fish (head) n'Chips)

Five years ago we took the kids to London and Paris. I was not writing a blog back then so I didn't chronicle our adventures. I wish I had. There were many. I know as time moves on it gently erases the details of what I thought would be indelible memories. So in the interest of preserving some great stories that deserve to be archived because they are part of Traversi family lore, here is the first of what will likely be many "Tales from the Trip: London/Paris edition".

Picture the four Traversis wandering somewhat aimlessly about London. It's not that we don't have a destination. We do. We are heading to a pub for our first dinner in London. We are heading to a specific pub, by the way. We're not just out looking for any random dining location.

The thing is, we are afraid to use our cell phones. We got international plans before we left. But does anyone really understand international plans? Data, roaming, wi-fi, LTE... it's like a different language. And we've heard stories of people who get what they think are great international plans only to come home to a whopping bill anyway.

So we're trying to be very prudent with our phone usage. Prudent, in this case, means that we have a place we want to go but we don't want to use navigation tools to get there. Or at least we don't want to use them more than necessary.

We have general directions, but we end up lost. So we cave and turn on "maps" to figure out our next move. Maps confidently leads us into a dark alley in a sketchy part of London. We make it out and eventually to our pub, which turns out to be a rollicking establishment full of young professionals who seem to be cutting loose on a Friday night. We are a family of four. So fitting right in...

And the fun doesn't stop there! We order fish n'chips. Because England.

It turns out that the English version of this dish is ever-so-slightly different than the American one. Theirs should perhaps be called "An Entire Fish n'Chips". Because you get the WHOLE fish, deep fried. The head. The eyes. The fins. The gills. The tail. It's all there for you to enjoy. Yum.

You can only imagine what our reaction is as the dish is served. Picture four people madly looking from one to another to another and then at the waitress and then back at each other... and then hysterical laughter.

And it came with some lovely warm beer. Welcome to England!

I honestly cannot remember how much of that fish got eaten. We are all pretty adventurous eaters, but I think that particular dish may have been our Rubicon (in this scenario we are not Julius Caesar but rather the fraidy-cats who would not cross the river with him).

I don't have any grand ending for this story. I wish we had a picture of the fish but we didn't think to take one, so here is a stock photo that looks pretty much like our dinner. Enjoy!

Capuccino with Olivia

I'm just perfectly happy right now.

I'm at one of my favorite Sacramento establishments--O'BO--on a sunny Friday afternoon with Olivia. I have a cappuccino in front of me (seriously, I have been hinting to my family that I'd like a nice Italian espresso machine for at least a year now but no one seems to want to shell out the three grand for the one I want...), Bella Note is playing over the sound system, and Olivia and I are sitting at a table for two looking out on downtown Sacramento while we both type away at our laptops.

Just two girls who love to write hanging out together writing.

This is a little bit of a dream for me. This is, literally, one of the things I think about when I picture how I would ideally spend my time. Sitting in a cafe, whiling away the afternoon with my daughter, creating what could potentially turn into the next Hamilton (just go with it...).

Damn it. We've only been here ten minutes and I've finished my cappuccino already (thank god for spell check because I've spelled cappuccino three different ways but you don't know that, do you, because--yay! spell check).  Hard decision... another drink now, or wait half an hour and get a cookie with it? Actually that's not a hard decision. If you could see the pastries here, you'd already know that I'm waiting half an hour so I can order the giant chocolate crinkle cookie to go with my second cappuccino.

Damn it again. Turns out I drank all of the cappuccino but left a fair amount of the foam, so now I'm just eating giant spoonfuls of foam. It's good. But not as good as when it's balanced out by the coffee. I'll have to correct my drinking strategy on the next round. Goal: to finish the coffee and the foam at the same time. Setting achievable goals is one of my strengths.

The music playing in the background is that sort of old-style Italian music you'd hear being played if you were sitting at a street-side cafe in Sorrento. It's got my toes tapping and my shoulders slightly moving to the rhythm. It's fun but distracting. Although it does not appear to be disrupting Olivia's concentration. She looks utterly immersed in her task.

The music is still the same old Italian style, but now it's got a very heavy concertina sound. Do you know my dad? All I can picture right now is my dad wandering the tables at a little Italian cafe, stopping at random to play for people who are singing along. Mind you, this has NEVER happened. Though he does play the concertina. So it COULD happen.

Retorna me, cara mia te amo... Dean Martin is serenading us. What a great song. I love listening to him sing the Italian verses. Makes me want to return to my Italian classes. Or to Italy. Or both.

Is it wrong that I keep glancing at the time to see if a half hour has passed? That cookie is calling to me.

Don't know what that last song was, but it was sung entirely in Italian by someone unknown to me, and he held the last note long enough that Olivia and I both stopped typing and looked at each other at the same time, as if to acknowledge that yes, we get that he's a good singer but come on, that's just a stupid long amount of time to hold a note.

I just realized I seem to be live-blogging my writing date with Olivia.

I held out long enough that Olivia asked me if she should go get us a caramel raspberry cookie to go with a couple of cappuccinos. Let me give that some thought...ummm, yes please.

Here's a picture of Selland's amazing caramel-raspberry sandwich cookie:

Okay, we may have eaten it before I could get my camera out.

The couple two tables over from us just sat down with some beautiful salads and a bottle of sauvignon blanc. Yes, a whole bottle! It's 3:10pm. Someone knows how to start their weekend right! If Olivia and I split a bottle of wine right now I'm pretty sure Dave would have to come drive us home. (We'll split the bottle of Wente Riva Ranch I have chilling in our fridge when we get home. We don't want to inconvenience Dave.)

Round two cappuccinos have arrived!
The burning question on everyone's minds, I know, is "Will Kim be able to sleep tonight after not just one but TWO full caffeine cappuccinos in the late afternoon?"
It's a really good question that I should have given some thought to before I embarked on my second caffeinated beverage. But I didn't. So we shall see. If you see a blog posting at 2am you'll know the answer.

Goal. Achieved. My last sip of coffee was accompanied by the perfect amount of foam and my cup is now perfectly empty.

It's time to go. I can tell because gone are my lovely Italian songs and currently playing is Moondance by Van Morrison, except it's not Van Morrison singing. I think it's Harry Connick Jr. Moondance is not a big band song. There should not be trumpets blaring in the background.
Nobody should sing Van Morrison but Van Morrison.

Olivia now agrees with me, by the way, that purchasing a really good espresso machine should not be dismissed out of hand.

Things I Don't Understand

I really wanted to title this one, "Things I Don't Understand and Have No Chance of Ever Figuring Out Even Though I Am a Curious Person."

But that seemed like a little overkill.

And then I thought I could name it, "Things I Have No Idea I Do Not Know." Too many negatives. Confusing.

So it's the simple "Things I Don't Understand."
Because there's a lot, I mean a LOT, that I don't understand.

What got me cogitating on this was an article about an amateur astronomer. Here's a brief description of his discovery:

On September 20, 2016, Victor Buso was testing his new camera by taking a picture of NGC 613, which is about 80 million light-years from Earth. Over the course of 90 minutes, he took several 20-second time-lapse photographs, and that’s when the light from the supernova reached Earth. (This is where I would annotate the publication from which I got the above description except I do not have any idea how to footnote... just one of the many things I don't know and also one that I am not going to pursue. Apologies to "I Fucking Love Science.")

Back to my cogitating. 

Okay, first of all this man was photographing NGC 613. I have no idea what that even means but clearly he not only knew what it was but where to find it. Oh, and also, NGC 613 is 80 MILLION LIGHT-YEARS FROM EARTH! I can't even comprehend that number. Or distance. Or time. I'm fairly certain I never will. But it's fun for me to think about. 

Dave once told me that there are more stars than there are grains of sand IN THE WORLD. And here's the thing. I think he's right. Except that it can't possibly be. Because I can't even begin to understand how to wrap my brain around that. 

Dave has also, with his infinite patience, tried numerous times to explain to me the idea that if you go fast enough you can get younger. Right. Uh-huh. 

On a non-space related note, I can pick up my iPhone and punch ten numbers and suddenly I am talking to my daughter in LA or my son in SF. I mean, come on. Who understands that? How is that even possible? How can there even be enough combinations of those ten numbers to allow everyone who has a phone number to have a phone number? 

Ok, math. Just in general. Not something I have ever or will ever understand well at all. 

Random things I don't understand: 

*how come when you hear your own voice talking it doesn't sound the same as when you hear your voice in a recording?

*why does toast taste different than bread? It's not just a different texture--it actually tastes completely different.

*how does music come from a needle moving through grooves?

*how do cheetahs communicate to one another how they are going to work together to kill the zebra that one of them alone cannot take down? 

*how does DNA pass along what you look like? It's so tiny. How can it have that much information?

I could go on and on. And on. 

I'm not frustrated by my lack of understanding (although I think occasionally Dave might be frustrated with my lack of understanding, but that's only because I keep making him try to explain that speed/time thingy). It's actually, for me, fun. I like finding out things I don't know because I like learning (or trying to learn). I don't ever want to stop being curious. 

Years ago, during the George W. Bush administration, I read a quote from then-Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld. He was speaking at a DoD news briefing regarding WMD's and Iraq. Here's what he famously said:

   "There are knowns. There are things we know that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say there are things that we now know we don't know. But there are also unknown unknowns. There are things we do not know we don't know."

At the time, I thought it was a ridiculous quote. I mocked it, and him. But now I get it. And it pains me to say that in retrospect Donald Rumsfeld was a very wise man.

My hope, for me as well as for both my kids, is that the world always has more than enough knowns, known unknowns, and unknown unknowns.















I don't know what I don't know. Don Rumsfeld