Understand Corrosion to Prevent It

T is done with finals, so tonight we went out to dinner (at Chevy's, for some strange reason) and to see the movie Juno.

Unless you've been living on Mars, you know that Juno is a well-reviewed film about a teenage girl who gets pregnant and chooses adoptive parents for her child. It really was as good as all that--every scene between Ellen Page and Michael Cera brought a well-earned lump to my throat.

I was kind of hoping that the movie would bring me some sort of magical healing vis a vis adoption, but that was probably expecting too much. I think it would have helped if the adoptive mother in the movie (Vanessa, played by Jennifer Garner) was a little more like Juno--since I could see some of myself in Juno, but not much of myself in Vanessa.

On the way to the movie, T and I were talking about Christmas presents. The other day, I asked my dad what he wanted for Christmas. He requested a book called Understand Corrosion to Prevent It, by a Canadian professor. My dad is a retired engineer, and he enjoys conducting experiments in the backyard.

I had to send a check to an address in Montreal to get it. Here is a brief description of the book:

Corrosion failures produce accidents, environmental damage and large financial losses to companies, which could be prevented or mitigated by the application of known technology. This 50-page booklet is a simple, concise, and practical introduction to corrosion problems written for engineers, technologists and administrators in industry, as well as for students. Its aim is to make the reader aware of corrosion failures, costs and prevention methods and to avoid costly blunders.

When I mentioned this to T, he remarked: "I bet that Understand Corrosion to Prevent It has never been given as a Christmas gift in the history of the world."

True. But isn't preventing corrosion something we could all do a little more of?

Thanks to Polandeze for the flickr commons photo.

Unsilent Night

I don't usually think in year-long increments, but it occurred to me tonight while I was out Christmas shopping that this hasn't been a very good year.

There was our failed adoption, which keeps casting a gloomy shadow. The experience made it clear that, when it comes to child-getting, we're just not very lucky (not yet, anyway.) We also don't have much control over what comes next. We just have to wait, and trust, which is not easy right now.

My mom was also in the hospital three times this year, each time because problems with her medication caused her to lose her grip on reality. A long time ago, I realized that I had to raise myself, because my parents hadn't really done it all the way. I wish it could have been otherwise, but to make it, I had to put up a protective wall between my mom and myself. I don't think moms and daughters can ever be truly separated, though. So I've felt the sadness of my mom, who has suffered a lot in her mind, pulling at me across the country this year.

The holidays tend to dredge up that same sadness in me, and this afternoon, shopping downtown, I felt like a stereotypically anomie-laden American consumer. I was headed home, feeling hungry and tired, when I collided with a huge and quiet stream of people at 18th and Church. At the same time, I heard bells.

It only took me a minute to realized that this was Unsilent Night, a musical happening that T told me about. People with boomboxes, each playing a different set of bell-like sounds, were scattered throughout the crowd. It felt just right to join the crowd pouring into Dolores Park, which formed a circle, and listen to the wash of bell tones. I didn't see anyone I knew there, but I didn't feel alone. And all the sudden I felt part of everything, and grateful just to have the chance to be alive right now.

Retreat from San Francisco

Wow. I just got back from a three day retreat, for a work-related fellowship.

I feel lucky. It was three days of nature, wonderful people, heartfelt conversations, and good food. The best part is that this is just the beginning.

Here are some pictures from the grounds of the beautiful Marconi Center in Marin, where the retreat took place.

This was our view of Tomales Bay.



This was a mysterious, unused mansion on the grounds.


There were green, blooming things everywhere, even in December.

O Christmas Tree

I am an atheist. I always say this to a general audience with some trepidation, not because I'm not comfortable with that choice (I am) but because I picture the dismay of good-hearted religious people like my parents, who just don't understand.

Nonetheless, I enjoy many of the material trappings of the holiday season, and I'm especially enjoying my silver tinsel tree. T put his foot down. He didn't want any more live trees. So this is our tree from now on. Though maybe next year I'll get another one, and decorate that one with all green ornaments. Hmmm...