Spring Pushing Through the Clouds

Once again it's pouring outside.  It was so lovely and sunny 30 minutes ago that I suited up for an afternoon jog.  Now here I sit in front of the computer screen, all dressed up and nowhere to go.

It's been a wonderful week in Adelaide.  At the sunny outset of the week, I was accompanied by great friends to McLaren Vale, the beach, and Barossa.  There's nothing like beautiful days to relieve all sorts of anxiety.  I finally feel like I'm getting a grip on the road that is unfolding for my life.  I'm very privileged to have all sorts of options available, though there's a certain terrible stress in the background: "Don't screw up the opportunity!"
I vacillate between extreme contentment with the blank book I get to fill and acute envy of friends whose path is set for them.  Two gentlemen I know, for example, are next in line to run their families' wineries in South Africa.  How empowering to live life with a sense of duty, directly tied to filial obligations.  "Golden handcuffs," they say.  I too feel responsible to honor my family, my college, my country.... but the "how" is so undefined.  My commission is to go do my "best," whatever that means.  It's not a quick and easy task when the whole wide world holds opportunities and places at which to excel.

We do the best with what we have where we are.

Yesterday was a memorable one.  We headed up to the Clare Valley for some wine tasting, completely ignoring the crazy storm raging up the land from Adelaide.  This has apparently been the coldest, wettest winter in two decades here, and the season clearly means to go out with a bang.  A thunderstorm lingered through Friday night, and by Saturday morning rivers were running high and roadside ditches were threatening to overload onto the bitumen.  But northwards through the fray we drove.  By 2pm, the spitting rain was streaking sideways in blustery wind, branches were flying everywhere, and water was gushing from all corners of the earth to the lowest points it could find.  We were sadly forced to leave the valley early because we simply couldn't turn off the main road or get to cellar doors.  Rivers had washed over the side roads, over bridges, and into the fields, making islands of vineyards.  I do wonder what effect all this water so late in the winter will have on vinous budburst and the coming vintage.

Family, I love you

A friend and I were bantering this evening about our relatives. Or rather, we were one-upping each other with stories about how wonderful our respective families are. At some point talk turned to the subject of gratitude... The difficulty of expressing "thank you for raising me" and "thank you for loving me" puts such a barrier between us and the words we need to say to the people who need to hear it.

Over lunch today (laksa in the central market!) a different friend sighed as she mused, "So few people are in touch with themselves, who they really are and what they want." And that deficit of self-introspective thought launches so much terrible turmoil between the non-mind-reading classes.

And with these thoughts swirling in my mind, a quick, heartfelt shout-out is in order. Thanks, family (and friends, who count among family), for the emails and calls and facebook notes and well wishes. I've broadcasted some distress in recent weeks, and you have done much to remind me of the ties that bind me beyond the present, fleeting moment. In all honesty, I'm doing just fine, though I am ready for winter to end and resume a happy pattern of productive, inquisitive days. Australia has still got me scrambling through the liminal lifestyle of a non-committal ex-pat. I don't know how to do my taxes here, and I'm rather bored by the prospect of figuring it out when I'm just going to have to go back to America and figure them out there too. This is the same philosophy behind my refusal to learn how to work television remote controls. The day I figure out all the buttons and menus, they'll just update the damn things to new technology. There's always so much to be done, and it's irritating when life gets in the way of more important things (like... say... life? it's a vicious cycle).

Much too philosophical. I should go back to storytelling...

In light news....
This past weekend we all piled on a bus and went up to the Gourmet festival in the Barossa Valley. Silliness ensued. Much wine was bought and enjoyed. New friends were made, and deep conversations were had. Details are fuzzy. Highlights included the glorious sunshine, aforementioned new friends, and a piece of chocolate-shiraz-ganache cake. I've come away with an important message to my fellow Americans: drink more Shiraz! (look beyond $10.... there's some glorious stuff bouncing around in the $15-30 range)