Weekend Without Makeup

This weekend I had a planned trip to Zion National Park in Utah. It was with my STC chapter colleagues. We've been planning it for a couple of months or so. And as the time approached I was excited for the chance to get out of town, and see our St. George friends and to experience something new. Even though I'd lived in Utah for five years (in Provo), I'd never been to Zion. I'm not a big fan of the outdoors much of the time. Especially when it's so hot, but I do appreciate amazing scenery and natural history.

The day before the trip I had to take care of my car registration. I expected to spend the day at the DMV. First though, I took MINIfir to my regular garage to see if she was ready to pass the smog test. A week earlier, she failed due to the thermostat keeping her a little too cool. I didn't realize that would affect emissions, but it did. I had to buy the OEM thermostat and my dad was kind enough to install it for me. My mechanic cleared the engine code, but he advised not to have her retested until I'd driven a good 100 miles with the new thermostat. The computer had to cycle through some checks before she'd pass smog. So no trip for the DMV for me that day. I was out so early in the day, I wondered if there were any other errands I should run before my trip the next day, or if I could just pass some time before going home to watch the Mets game. Being on that side of town, I figured I'd stop into the mall to see if there was anything good at the Nordstrom Anniversary sale. I knew it was dangerous to go there, but I had a plan to avoid overspending. I had been good about it lately. Browsing and seeing things I liked, but ultimately deciding I didn't need them. I could stay out of trouble. Exceptions only for things that were a good deal AND absolutely wanted (as in not just purchased for the sake of it being on sale) AND that I could afford. I had some money in the bank now, and had paid off my credit cards and it seemed doable to drop $600 on a new handbag. But I realized that I would feel bad about it later, and that I shouldn't do it. And that any new bag would eventually be on sale if I waited long enough, and if I still wanted it when it was on sale, I could buy it. Rules. I had to stick to them. Especially if I wanted to make some extra car payments as I'd planned before all the repair bills set me back. Anyway, I went to Nordstrom and looked at all the new bag styles that were on sale. Lots of nice stuff, there was a big crowd sifting through the items. But I easily settled on the bag I'd been thinking of, a hobo by Treesje that even came in a blue color that I hadn't known of before. It fit my criteria. Half price. Even when it's out of season, it's unlikely to be sold for less than that. And I really wanted it. Now that I saw it in person, and not just the catalog, I realized it was exactly what I was looking for. And at half price, affordable. And buying it wouldn't derail my plan to make extra car payments. I was within my means. Okay. Good.

So then with my new purchase in hand, I stopped into Macy's. The bag department there is a nice place to browse, but I rarely find anything I really want to buy, so it's pretty safe. As I made my way past the Origins counter, the makeup artist made her pitch. "Want a free makeover?" I politely declined. I admitted that I could probably use a makeover, considering my less than polished appearance, but it was rather pointless as no matter how great a job she did, I'd never use any of the products that I might end up buying. She said that she didn't mean to imply that I needed a makeover. And that I didn't have to buy anything. She was just bored and would be grateful for an opportunity to work on someone instead of just standing around. For some reason I was moved. I agreed with the condition that she kept it light. No reason for me to be walking around fully made up. But a cleansing would be nice.

Her name was Jessica and she had on a sleeveless top showing off her full sleeve of tattoos. She asked me about myself, what I did for a living, what I'd been shopping for. I told her I bought a bag. And she said, "Oh, you're a bag girl. I'm defintely not a bag girl. I won't pay more than $20 for a bag usually." I shared the deal I got on my new Treesje. Fifty percent off. She said, "Yeah, 50% off $600 dollars right." She had guessed correctly. She said she'd never even consider spending that much on a bag. But she had her own thing, Tattoos, $1000 worth at least. That's cool, I responded. Everyone has their own thing. While we chatted she cleansed and exfoliated and then began asking if I felt comfortable with some loose powder, blush, mascara, etc. I asked her to be minimal. No mascara as I'm allergic. But I guessed evening out my skin with powder was okay. She set to work. And we continued chatting. She was true to her word. She didn't try to sell me anything. And she was grateful to be kept busy. I thanked her and she thanked me too. I went about my way in the store. Bought a pair of shoes on sale. And then I ran into Jessica in the restroom. She was on break I guess. She told me to enjoy the rest of my day and I wished her the same. I didn't feel weird. She had done a nice understated job. Of course I knew that by the time I got home, most of it would have melted away, after I had something to eat, and then ventured out into the hot sun. After a trip to CVS on my way home. It was barely noticable. I cleansed the rest off with a moist towelette and then got ready to watch the ballgame. It wasn't pretty. An 11-0 route by the Braves.

Oh well. I had the Zion trip to look forward to the next day. And of course it wouldn't much matter how I looked then. After a couple of tough hikes (for me, my companions considered them easy), the sunscreen and sweat had blended and dripped into my eyes. It was messy, but fun. I rewarded myself with an ice cream. In the late afternoon, we made our way back to our hosts' house for a bar-b-que. And then we got to go visit their horses. They were sweet, friendly animals. A joy to be around. We fed them carrots and then went back to the house for some pie. I was sweaty and dirty all day. But I didn't care. Everyone else was too. Even Jessica would admit there was no point worrying about appearances. The real star of the day was the natural beauty. The massive rock formations, the wild animals we saw, and of course the horses.

Andy, You're a Star

I don't follow professional tennis that closely. Baseball is my main sports devotion. But I try to always catch at least part of Wimbledon, especially the men's final. The time difference makes this a bit tricky, as it's 6a.m. here in Las Vegas when the Championship Match begins in London. Las Vegas has it's own claim to tennis fame. Andre Agassi is a Vegas native and still lives here with his wife and fellow champion Steffi Graf. The Agassis do loads of work for the community. Still, Vegas is a long way from London.

Last year's Wimbledon final, won by Rafael Nadal in the dusk of early evening after several rain delays and an epic 5 set match against Roger Federer, is well documented. I'm reading the book on the match by L. Jon Wertheim right now on my Kindle (It's called "Strokes of Genius: Federer, Nadal, and the Greatest Match Ever Played.") I remember watching the match, on and off between rain delays, sleepy in my bed, and then with the Mets game on the computer on the other side of the room. The Mets actually started and finished their game that day before the Wimbledon final was completed. A marathon day for all involved. I don't remember what the Mets did that day. But I certainly remember the tension and the greatness of that tennis match. Sometimes that happens.

And today was another day like that. This time the amazing match ended just as the Mets were beginning their lackluster day against the Phillies. So there wasn't the division of attention that was necessary last year. I again woke late, tuning in sleepily after being up half the night with our dog Miracle and her fireworks anxiety. It was already in the fourth set. But I'm glad I got there when I did. Andy Roddick was our guy this time against Federer.

Tennis being an idividual sport makes it different from baseball in that there is no team as such. Yes, there are doubles teams, and Davis Cup teams. But in the Grand Slam tournaments, the singles players are on their own. You have your favorites. I remember when Agassi made his amazing final run in the U.S. Open. in 2006. He was injured but he battled and the crowd was definitely behind him. This year's Wimbledon Semi-final saw Britain's star Andy Murray with great home country support from the crowd, as he lost a tough match to Roddick.

Now in the final it was Roddick vs. Federer, the 5 time champion. Roddick had met Federer in the Wimbledon final before, back in 2004 and 2005 and came up short each time. Their last match up in 2005 was an easy 3 set win for Federer. So of course you have to root for Andy this time. At least to make the match more competitive, if not to have a real chance to win it. Yes, the American player got my support, but not just because I'm American (and I did talk about the national pride in watching sports in yesterday's entry). But in tennis you really think of the player as an individual, and here I rooted for Andy because he had worked so hard to get back to the final. He did everything he could to give himself a chance to win it. I'm a big fan of Federer also. I mean, he's got to be the greatest player of all time, considering what he's done. So he's not the enemy. He never has been. I cheered for him in the final against Nadal last year, and felt bad for him when he lost it. This year Federer was just coming off his first French Open win, and was going for his 15th Grand Slam title, to surpass Pete Sampras. He was making history and you can't help but want to see that too. I just didn't want it to be too easy for him. And fortunately for me, and for tennis as a whole, it was a great competitive match. It went 5 sets. And the fifth set took 30 games for Federer to finally come out on top. Roddick held his serve in every game until the very last.

The sports media is on top of reporting this story, despite the fact that it's not front page news in the U.S. (I had to make a concerted effort to check the results and find out the match-ups on line, it was strange.). So I don't feel compelled here to give a detailed account of the match. Suffice it to say that I was glad to have seen it. Andy and Roger both played their hearts out. And Roger came out on top today. The history and the glory are his. But to Andy I say, Well done! You did us all proud :)

America

It's funny this feeling we call patriotism. I mean, the country we're from is mostly an accident of birth isn't it? I know I've always been conflicted about what it means that I was born American. And then of course Americans are all sub-categorized, like Latin Americans, African Americans, Asian Americans. Because this is a country of people who come from somewhere else. Except for Native Americans, though we didn't know about them until after the explorers from Europe came to claim these lands as their own. Oops.

But I digress. When I was growing up I was always fascinated by what was going on over on the other side of the pond. The culture of the U.K., England, Great Britain all of it. Literature, music, the accents, the fashion and the cool cars. Whatever we had here seemed just a poor imitation. It began with the images I got from reading Thomas Hardy and all that other great English lit I was assigned as I went through school. That stuff which I committed myself to study through two university degrees. (And the music too. British rock or Brit pop, in all its variations.) Maybe I didn't become an expert, but I've always loved the language, and done what I could to keep it close to me. Perhaps so much so that I blocked out the language of my forefathers. I took Spanish in high school of course, and forgot it all. And really feel hardly any connection to it at all as part of my culture. Being Puerto Rican Amerian. A latina. That is mostly a fact of biology. But it takes just the tiniest thing to make one claim one's roots. And in the same breath, to distance oneself from others. Being from a minority ethnicity didn't stop me from being exposed to biggotry, prejudice and the ignorance to leads to them.

The Puerto Ricans and the African Americans and the Mexicans all have problems with each other as well as the whites who have persecuted them so publically. They persecute each other. Or we do. I forget that I'm included in there somewhere. But then I've never felt such "latina pride" as I did that day Judge Sonia Sotomayor was nominated by President Obama to join the Supreme Court. Maybe because she's a Puerto Rican woman from New York like I am. And she got where she is not because of what she looks like (even despite her appearance, accent etc.,) but because of her brain. And I felt New York pride, the city, the state I grew up in, which I do feel connected to very much, even now that I've lived elsewhere for at least half my life. I still love my Mets.

Speaking of baseball, sports are a big thing giving people a feeling of belonging, common will. People support their team whether it's a school team, or a city team, or a national team. I know my Team U.S.A. spirit comes out every two years during the Olympics. People die over it though. Riots in football stadiums around the world are not uncommon. Just a game. But all those emotions attached to these games...can move entire populations. And the littlest thing can breed ill will between spectators. Just like the littlest thing can lead and has led millions to war over the centuries.

I was in the Army. I wore the uniform of my country. I took an oath and trained to participate in war if I was called upon to do so. I did not do it lightly. But I also did not do it because I just love my country so much or because I love being American. Sometimes it's just the lesser of two evils. Things may suck here too, but at least I can speak freely and vote, and go to school, and drive and make a living as a single woman, just a few things which women in many places around the world are denied. I value the many freedoms I have and would of course defend them to the best of my ability. That ability, unsurprisingly, did not turn out to involve soldiering. But we each do what we can.

When we assign blame or give praise, it's often connected to some characteristic that's either different or the same as us. We condemn Islam because some Islamic extremists did some horrible things. But there are many many more peaceful followers of Islam than extremists. It's just the first thing the media could think of that made them different from us. We would never do such a thing. What made them do it? Well, it must be their religion. Or, when someone succeeds, it's not long before people want to claim likeness, either they come from the same town or went to the same school, or have the same last name. Or even if they just like the same music or TV shows. It doesn't take much. He's one of us. She's one of us.


So while I often look admiringly across the pond, I'll never be British. I'm still driving my cute little British car around the U.S. of A. I'm an American. A New Yorker. A Puerto Rican Woman. A Mets fan. A MINI driver. A transplanted Las Vegan. A neighbour. A co-worker. A citizen of the world. A daughter. A sister. A friend. And more. And I have to feel pretty good about all that.