Bye Don?

Well, we may not know the results yet, but at least I did my part. It took all the Bernie gear I owned and a drink or three, but I voted for the “moderate” who doesn’t believe in universal healthcare but at least doesn’t think think that kids go in cages. I cannot empathize with anyone who’d choose the alternative. So... let’s go Biden!? 🤷‍♀️

Time to say Bye, Don!

Pumpkin Carving 101

Nicolas's two-year immigratiaversary may be just around the corner, but there are plenty of American traditions left for him to explore. This past weekend was no exception. Despite temperatures in the Bay Area in the 90s Fahrenheit (> 32C), the very non-Gallic Halloween is nearly upon us. Though I mainly outgrew my affinity for the holiday when I aged out of trick-or-treating, we're lucky enough to have a friend who feels otherwise. He was enthusiastic enough to pack a trunk full of pumpkins ready for carving, so on Saturday our socially-distanced outdoor gathering got to work. I'd forgotten how familiar it was to smell a freshly sliced pumpkin or feel its sticky, stringy, seedy guts oozing between my fingers. My familiarity made Nicolas's novelty all the more striking. It's easy to forget you didn't grow up in the same world as the person with whom you share your world. Then, next thing you know, you're discovering a "quintessential childhood experience" on a random Saturday afternoon well past your childhood years.

Nicolas's first jack-o-lantern

Nicolas's final project for Pumpkin Carving 101 earned him a solid A. In the midst of a year that hasn't been the greatest for a foreigner to America, I'm glad he got to discover one positive American tradition.

Green card renewal submitted!

 549 pages later, we have survived the completion Nicolas's green card renewal application. Technically, it's the "removal of conditions" since his first green card was conditional: only valid for 2 years. That's the sort of green card issued to anyone sponsored by a spouse to whom they've been married for less than two years at the time of application. Since we'd been married for just 10 months back when we submitted his first green card application, that put us squarely in the conditional green card category. Nicolas's right to continue to reside in the US is now contingent on the strength of our proof of a sustained relationship.

In short, we had to spend the last several months digging through every single shared bank statement, bill, vacation photo, and so on, to demonstrate to the federal government that we're the real deal. I have to admit that there's something that feels a little icky about having to prove your marital life to a national government. We had friends and family write affadavits as to our relationship, and we put my organizational skills to the test. (Yes, we braved this all sans immigration lawyers once again.) At last it's out of our hands. Here's to hoping there won't be any more family separations in our timeline!

Mailing off Nicolas's green card (I-751) application at downtown Oakland's fancy old-time post office.

2020's gonna 2020

 If there's one thing we've learned by now, it's that 2020's gonna 2020. So I guess it made sense that on Wednesday the sun simply didn't rise. Instead we awoke to this:

No filters needed

As the week progressed, the sky morphed from the wrath of Hades to a wintry wonderland, just swap out the snowflakes for the ashes of burnt forests, destroyed towns, and broken dreams. After all, this is 2020.

🎵Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. 🎵

By Friday, some of our favorite establishments were throwing in the towel.

Cheers to you, Federation Brewing! 🍻

And yet, my little world spent the week pretending everything was totally normal. I went about my daily commute and the regular grind as though we weren't in the midst of a global pandemic and a state that's burning down around us.

Meme of the year right here

I'm not even sure how to try to wrap this up on a positive note. This year has just been one hell of a ride.

Buckle up: we've still got 3 ½ months and one presidential election to go, folks.

Getting away from it all, 2020-style

It may not have been the summer holidays in Europe that we'd planned, but we pulled off about as much of a summer holiday as is possible for a pair of American residents in 2020. I cannot express how overdue the vacation truly was. This year has undoubtedly taught me that reducing life to a constant rhythm of work, commute, and self-isolation is more than enough to test one's nerves. With a full week out of the office, we managed to link up with cousins to make our way down to Sequoia National Park, up to Muir Woods, and even briefly through Santa Cruz and Monterey. We got closer to some bears (a mama and her cub) than we'd ever planned (or hoped!), saw some big-ass trees, and got some mask-free time to breathe, alone in nature, in good company.

Sequoia and King's Canyon National Parks with the West Coast cousins: Ryan, Jake, and Sarah

A day in Muir Woods and San Francisco - Land's End, where we accidentally bumped into a dear old friend's wedding elopement photo shoot! - and Fisherman's Wharf, where we introduced Ryan to Buena Vista's Irish coffees, introduced Nicolas to the American delicacy that is frozen chocolate bananas (he approved!), and said hello to the sea lions at Pier 41.

We visited Oakland's newest murals while touring Ryan around our newest adopted home town.

It was a change of pace, a change of scenery, and a week during which I did zero work. That's about as much as you can ask from 2020.

A (masked) breath of fresh air

Despite what the president has to say, things aren't getting back to normal any time soon. So it's been a breath of fresh air to have one bit of my normal return: pole. Though I've mostly focused on aerial silks and lyra since moving to California, I've been doing these at a pole studio since Oakland became my home a year ago. Gyms are still closed for the foreseeable future, but by a stroke of luck my studio happens to have a backyard space and managed to fill it with outdoor poles. It's been a fun new challenge, learning to pole on equipment not secured at both ends, and doing so under full midday summer sun. There are also a few new accessories to adjust to: face masks and shoes (the latter to protect us from the "hot lava" sun soaked black bases supporting each of the outdoor poles). But more than anything, it's been a (masked) breath of fresh air, a small moment in my week when the non-work parts of my world feel like they've returned to nearly normal. I can't express just how much I've needed a little taste of normal.

Oakland, transformed

The airwaves are overflowing with the voices of people who haven't been heard for too long. There's not much that I should be saying right now. And what could I say? I'm sorry I haven't done more. I'm sorry I didn't know how bad it was. I'm sorry my grandparents benefitted from government programs that enabled them to enjoy the growing middle class, while our sisters and brothers of color were left on the sidelines. It wasn't fair and it still isn't. We need to make so many changes. I've been trying to do my part this past month, pushing diversity initiatives in the workplace (from recruiting more under-represented minorities in STEM to smaller things like our company's first annual Juneteenth picnic) and educating myself about systemic problems through films and books, all the while trying to avoid performative allyship. My community here in Oakland has been so impressive: brave, strong, resilient. I feel fortunate to be surrounded by people fighting to better our world. Activist-artists have turned the city into their canvas, and I absolutely have to share the beauty that's been born from the people's suffering. It's extraordinary to see the city transformed into a living art exhibit. Maybe, just maybe, there's reason to be hopeful that the changes we need are coming.