We knew when we moved in to our neighborhood that it was cute and full of character.  That was a large part of the reason we chose to spend a little more money and live in Brookside rather than out in the burbs. (Add the shorter commute for me and shops and restaurants in walking distance and you’ve got the top three list). What we didn’t realize was that our neighborhood was a tourist attraction – especially at Christmas. I was recently trolling through the TripAdvisor entry for Kansas City only to see my neighborhood listed as attraction number 33 out of 82?  Huh?  How can a neighborhood be an attraction? (Disclaimer:  while I believe that my street officially falls within the borders of Brookside – it’s north of Gregory – we are much closer to Waldo which is a funkier, not quite so quaint neighborhood.  Waldo is not listed on TripAdvisor but it’s where we seem to spend most of our time.   I guess the tattoo parlors and thrift stores aren’t everyone’s cup of tea.)

We’ve had some lovely evenings lately walking around our neighborhood looking at the Christmas lights.  I may have mentioned that when the fountains go off, the lights go on a and that’s not just at Crown Center and the Plaza.    My whole neighborhood is decked out in lights. There are strings of red and white across tree limbs and coming down from the sky.  There are extension cords everywhere. Some of the impossibly cute houses have lights all along their impossibly steep roof lines.  So not wanting to be odd man out, yesterday we decided we would try to hang lights on our cute house as well. (If this were a reality show, there would be ominous music, a voice over and then we’d cut to commercial to increase the suspense.) Anyone who knows Frank and his love of heights will know what is coming next.  Even with the neighbor’s 30 foot ladder, we weren’t getting anywhere near the peak on the front of the house.  He tried climbing through the bathroom window and scaling the roof but the pitch is impossible so that approach wasn’t going to work either. (We did get the gutters cleaned while he was up there though.) So we conceded defeat.  We wandered around the neighborhood again last night to get some ideas on what else we might do to deck out the house.

And that’s when we really noticed the traffic!  In the 30 minutes or so of our walk, I counted no fewer than 6 limos and 3 tour buses (one a luxury long distance coach!) prowling through our neighborhood not to mention the dozens upon dozens of cars inching along gawking at the displays. The weather was mild so windows were down and we could hear the squeals of delight from little kids in the back seats of several cars.  There was one antique convertible with the top down , a large family crammed into the seats, merrily singing Christmas carols off key. Apparently, Christmas light tours are a big thing here in KC and our neighborhood is a prime stop. (Full disclosure:  our street is somewhat of a disappointment to the tourists I think.  I’m trying to decide if that makes me sad.)

So today we were determined to try again.

Instead of hanging lights from the peak of the roof, we decided that the upstairs bedroom window made more sense.  Add a few nets on the big bush out front and a string of lights along the back porch and I feel like we fit in a little better.  I also found out that there are professional services you can hire to come hang your Christmas lights (I was told it was a lucrative side line for local fire stations!) so I don’t feel quite so bad.  We were suspicious of how neatly the strings of lights matched up with the random roof lines – no draping strings of extra bulbs or trailing lights between gables.  I feel a bit vindicated and just a little proud of the minor effect we were able to create ourselves.

Now next year…..

Down the way where the nights are gay and the sun shines daily on the mountain tops
And so our final day in the sun is upon us. We have just gotten the routine down: coffee and juice on the patio, breakfast, read under the palm trees for a while, snorkel, lunch, more reading, walk on the beach, swim, drink, repeat.

Today we have a fabulous snorkeling outing – Frank finds a mask that fits! And we have the added attraction of a rum runner sunset cruise in the afternoon. That means a catamaran ride along the coast, rum punch and swimming in and out of caves along the coast. More rum punch on the way back, some impromptu line dancing on deck, and a fabulous sunset.

A return to the routine means champagne and iPod tunes while we shower and dress. Tonight’s dinner treat is the ” repeater’s dinner”, a special cocktail hour and 4 course dinner for those who have previously stayed at a Couples resort. Yup, that’s us since we were at their other Negril resort two years ago. We meet some very entertaining couples from Scranton, Richmond, and (surprise) Kansas City and had a lovely meal. (For Vanessa and others keeping score at home, all courses were gluten free except that I had to sub creme brûlée for desert.)

Then up to the piano bar where no one mentioned “the singer” but sing we did until the DJ started the dance music and we retired to catch the end of the Packer game (10-3 #gopackgo!)

And now we are waiting to board the flight home. We got in one more walk on the beach, one more swim, and one more fruity drink (Blue Lagoon anyone?) before it was time to board the bus for the long ride back to Montego Bay. While we originally thought 4 days would be too long, we have decided that 3 days in the sun is too short. So we’ll aim for 4 again on our next trip. If you are interested in a jaunt to Ocho Rios in February 2016, you just might have some company.

Day two started a little more slowly. Apparently cheap Chardonnay consumption is not conducive to a good night sleep or a clear head in the morning. No matter – it’s Sunday and even here everything slows down on Sunday. Except the wind. It was blowing forcefully from the start so yellow flags went out to signal caution for water sports. No worries mon – we’re going snorkeling!

We were booked on the 11 am snorkel trip which was just enough time to get breakfast and get rid of the hangover before heading into deeper waters. Today we didn’t want to mess with multiple meals so we headed for the buffet. An omelet, yogurt, fruit salad and lots of coffee helped set us right. Then off to a different reef for some zen time with the fishes. Frank still had problems getting a mask that fit right (Must. Not. Make. Nose. Joke.) so he cut his swim short but even in the choppy seas, it was beautiful watching the fish and the coral.

Back in time for lunch and again we headed to the buffet. More jerk chicken with callaloo and rice. And a gluten free dessert on the buffet! Okay it was creme brûlée which gets a bit boring after a while but at least they were making an effort. Walking out of the restaurant, we ran into the piano player from the bar the night before and chatted briefly about his hiccups. He had a terrible case while playing and I gave him the sure fire cure that I had gotten from the bar tender at the 19th hole at Pebble Beach years ago: a shot of angostura bitters on a slice of lemon. He never found the bitters but swears just the lemon worked. Then he asked if I was going to be at the piano bar on Monday since he so enjoyed my singing. WTF? No one enjoys my singing. Ask my daughter who actually has an amazing voice. We just laughed and said we would be there and wandered on.

A few hours later, we were walking by one of the bars when I heard a voice say “are you going to sing again tonight?” I turned to see one of the piano bar patrons who continued, “we really loved your singing, you were having such a good time and it was really good”. Huh? I thanked her graciously and said I planned to be at the piano bar on Monday since it was closed Sunday night.

The afternoon was pretty subdued since many of the regular activities don’t happen on Sunday and sometime after lunch the red flag went up for high winds and choppy surf. This meant no kayaking, waterskiing or other such activities. So swimming and walking along the beach were the main endeavors of the the day. We had just wandered out into the warm, impossibly clear and shallow surf when I heard a voice say “look it’s the singer”. Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Three women who had been at the piano bar then proceeded to tell me how much they enjoyed my singing and loved how I was so “into it”; they were also I pressed at how I knew all the words. I thanked them graciously and decided it was time for a walk.

One of the sad things about these types of resorts is that you don’t really see or understand the conditions outside of the compound. We got to see some of it as we sat in traffic trying to get out of Montego Bay on the ride in from the airport. There were lots of “entrepreneurs,” as the bus driver called them, selling everything you can imagine through the windows of stopped cars. There was a similar situation as we walked down the beach and passed public spaces and less affluent resorts and hotels. Every ten paces or so we would be offered pot but these entrepreneurs were very polite and always took no for an answer.

An afternoon of walking, napping, and drinking behind us and it was time to get ready for dinner. Tonight’s aperitif was cheap bubbly (French but not champagne) and we watched another beautiful sunset while the iPod played mellow 70s tunes in the background. Dinner would be later tonight as we had reservations at the fancy Thai restaurant. We drank martinis and played pool and talked our way into being seated at 8 even though our reservations were for 9. Same routine: chef comes out and tells me what I can and can’t order and we have a lovely dinner – sans cheap Chilean Chardonnay this time.

Heading back to the room after dinner, we passed a few folks heading into the bar. And what do I hear? “Hey Kelly – look! It’s the singer” Holy over rated vocal chords Batman! This is crazy! One last walk in the moonlight and we headed for an early bed. I suppose I should be well rested before my next “performance”.

And so we laze through our first full day in Jamaica. We arrived at sunset on Friday and when we went to check in we were offered an upgrade to an ocean front veranda room instead of the ocean view room we had booked. It would be an extra $106 per night but if that was too expensive for us, the clerk could ask the manager about a possible discount. Being an economist, I’m always interested in loosening the budget constraint so of course I want to hear about the discount. Then it began to feel like negotiating for a car – he went off to ask the manager and came back with a 15% discount offer. But he said that if that was still too much, he might be able to offer something better without the manager’s approval. How about $150 total for the upgrade? Cash preferred of course. Nudge nudge, wink wink. Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, we found the ATM and got our new beach front room where it is about a dozen steps from out patio to beach chair.

By the time we got settled it was dark and we were starving so off to the Friday night beach BBQ we go. First step is find the chef to get the low down on what is gluten free. Jerk chicken? Check. Doesn’t really matter then that the curried goat is off limits. Grabbed plates full of food and settled at a table to chat with a couple from western Massachusetts and are joined shortly thereafter by two couples from KC. Overland Park and Olathe to be precise. It was their last night so we picked up tips on what was good before chatting about, what else, the Royals. An early night was in order so off we went to bed.

Room service brought our coffee earlier than expected but it was lovely having coffee and fruit on the patio before heading to the restaurant next door for another breakfast. That would be a theme for the day – double meals. As the resort is all inclusive, there is never a chance that we’ll go hungry but they are not overly generous on the portions – of which I approve. We had a light lunch before heading out to snorkel (swam right through a huge school of Sergeant Majors and followed a baby ray along a Coral reef) before heading to the spool side grill for burgers. (Second lunch)

Then the beach lounging and drinking began in earnest. Rum runners, Mai tais, planters punch, Miami vice,….. We worked our way through the rum drinks before a last swim and then shower and change for dinner. As we requested, bottles of wine had been delivered to our room so we sipped cheap Chilean Chardonnay and listened to Harry Belafonte while getting ready.

Dinner at the restaurant next door was pleasant but not inspiring – chef came out and walked me through the menu. Mussels okay, conch chowder no. It’s lobster night so would I like that? Yes please. Again, smaller portions since many people around us were having at least 4 courses. Which meant the 5 mussels for the starter and half a lobster tail with a small scoop of risotto wasn’t quite enough. So we walked across the resort to the other main restaurant and did it all over again. Beef carpaccio for a starter and half a lobster tail with potatoes for second dinner. This time we added two little gluten free cupcakes for dessert and Frank had one of the best key lime pies he says he has ever tasted.

The reggae band that had been playing during the meal went off stage to transition to the main entertainment for the night so we were off to the piano bar. More cheap white wine (grey goose martinis for Frank – he had the better plan!) and we were crooning with the rest of the drunken middle aged vacationers. I even took the mic for Brown Eyed Girl and did my best not to blacken the family name. Eventually the piano goes quiet and the disco lights start flashing – our cue that it’s bedtime. We’ll get to do it all over again tomorrow.

And we continue along our list of “firsts” in the new homestead.  For the first time, the college kids were coming “home” to a place they have never lived.  Jesse arrived early on Saturday before Thanksgiving – Vermont has a week break as they don’t do a mid-semester break.  We hadn’t seen her since the day the moving truck pulled out of the driveway in Burke. She quickly acclimated to the new place, staying up late watching Netflix on her laptop and sleeping until midday; it was as if we had never moved.  🙂 She did manage to help run some errands and even took her dad out to lunch one day.  And most importantly to me:  she cooked dinner several nights in a row saving me from having to do so.

On Wednesday, we headed up to the airport to pick up Duncan.  It was touching to see them together as they hadn’t seen each other since around Duncan’s birthday in June.  I am incredibly thankful that they are as close as they are. We tried to give them some sibling time during the brief sojourn in the midwest but we were really most interested in having time together as a family.  I have already mentioned Thanksgiving day itself and I can’t say I am any less thankful for the rest of the time we had together.

That said, they were typical college students: craving their privacy and sleeping more than I can ever remember doing.  We had a few “discussions” about what it means to be good houseguests and there were some of the typical family “issues” that cropped up (read: Jesse and Frank were butting heads again!) but in all it was a great visit.  Of course, we are still in full blown tour guide mode:  we are doing our best to show off our new home to it’s best advantage because we want them to *want* to come visit us here.  At some point, that will end and it will revert to “going to see mom and dad” and that will be okay too. At some point they might get bored with the thrift stores in Waldo, the record and vintage clothes stores in Westport, and the BBQ.  But not yet.

Although Duncan is now a vegetarian so the BBQ doesn’t have quite the appeal.  Really? What on earth do you do with a vegetarian at Thanksgiving?  (Tofurkey is out of the question!)  So I made lots of veggie sides. But the bigger question is: what does one do with a vegetarian in KC?  Visit Cafe Gratitude of course!  It is always entertaining to take dedicated meat eaters to a vegan restaurant but this one is very good and was an excellent way for the rest of us to get over the turkey overdose on the day after Thanksgiving.  Then we wandered all over the city looking at the Christmas lights: Union Station, Crown Center, the Plaza.  When the fountains aren’t running, KC replaces them with light bulbs.

And speaking of Christmas, that will be another interesting test.  We’ll barely have time to miss the kids before they are back again.  And this time, it will be nearly for nearly 3 weeks.  I hope we are still happy to see each other after that! This will be not just a first but a last:  the last really long holiday break we’ll get together.   Duncan graduates in the spring so there will be no more month long breaks over the holidays.  Jesse will be moving of campus soon so there will be no getting kicked out of the dorms for 4 weeks.  It may be that we only have to worry about enjoying each other’s company for 4 or 5 days at a time. I’ll take it.  🙂

On this Thanksgiving day, it’s easy (normal? customary?) to consider what you are thankful for. I could spend pages waxing philosophical on then many aspects of my life for which I should give thanks. I shall instead state that I have always held that God has graced us with more blessings than we likely deserve.  This is most often the motivation behind our charitable giving and otherwise generous approach to life.

We have recently had the opportunity to have new start in life: new location, new jobs, new acquaintances.  We are working to make new friends in a new place.  It hasn’t always been easy and there have been road bumps and other challenges along with the many joys.  Today we had a Thanksgiving for the scrapbooks.  Nothing Facebook or reality TV worthy but a memorable day nonetheless.

The adult children “came home” to a place they have never lived yet have done all they can to enjoy the place and the atmosphere the holidays engender.  We spent the day cooking, watching football, drinking (a benefit of having older kids!) and then enjoyed a lovely afternoon/evening having dinner with the neighbors.  It was fabulous to have our new neighborhood family meet our existing family.  There were no fireworks, nothing that merited exceptional mention.  Yet a fabulous meal and many entertaining stories were enjoyed by all.

And for that, friends and family, we are most profoundly thankful.

That’s what a presenter in the meetings I was in this week said helped us get through the financial crisis:  we were all working with a common purpose. It brings people together, changes beliefs, and makes the world a different place.  That’s how I feel about the success that the Royals had this year.  Now everyone who knows me knows I could give a monkey’s rump about baseball.  Hockey and football are my sports (Go Packers!) but ever since we moved to Kansas City, there has been this simmering excitement about the Royals – apparently the first incarnation of the club to have that effect in nearly 30 years.

They had a relatively good season and apparently toward the end of the summer, it started to look like things could go somewhere.  We even got to go to a game (where they beat the SF Giants believe it or not) and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.  Then just over a month ago, they let first place slip away and had to battle to make the post season.  That led to an amazing wild card game.  Then another round of playoff games.  Then the division championship.  And all of a sudden, they were in the world series.

Now I it is true that I am new to this town and it is true that I haven’t always paid attention to general sports attitudes but I don’t recall ever seeing a reaction to a sports team quite like this.  It was October and Kansas City was still playing baseball – unheard of.  People started getting crazy and the more the Royals won, the crazier they got. This city of fountains was running with blue water everywhere. There was a different feel to things.  Casual conversations inevitably led to baseball.  Is there anything Lorenzo Cain couldn’t catch?  Is there a deeper bullpen in the league?  Could we break the “Giants dynasty”?  Even general greetings tended to include the phrase “Go Royals”.  The Fed Ex delivery woman dropped off a package, wished me a blessed day and closed with “Go Royals”.  It was on the front of buses, lit up on the side of buildings, and worn on bright blue clothing all over town.

And we watched baseball.  I have now seen more baseball in two months than I did in the 49 years before that.  We watched in agony when they lost, we were jubilant when they won.  Yoga classes were cancelled on game nights.  Night school classes were cancelled on game nights.  The night they made it to the world series, church bells rang. (Not a metaphor – I was in class at Rockhurst University, a local Catholic college, and they rang the cathedral bells when the last game of the ALCS was done.)

The local paper ran colorful headlines (most of which were hanging in the window of my colleague’s office – a long time Royals fan) Feel free to make jokes about small town press as you will. But the town was jubilant.  Even my work joined in:  we had a fund raiser for United Way – $10 bought you the right to wear jeans and Royals gear last Friday during the series We raised over $6000 which meant more than half the place participated – including our president and first vice president.  We held executive briefings in Royals t-shirts and lounged in the cafeteria in tennis shoes.  And everywhere the call “Go Royals” could be heard.

The games were up and down but then it was game 7.  The scrappy team from that “Flyover State” had taken the mighty Giants to the final game.  And they battled and they fought.

And they lost.  When the dust settled, the magic run was over and they were not the champs.  And still the fans applauded.  And still the odd fireworks were shot off. And although there was no mistaking the disappointment and pain, instead of rioting or setting things on fire, the fans thanked the players for the magical season and started speculating on who would be back for next year’s roster. And the front page of the local paper was properly respectful:  just because we didn’t #TakeTheCrown, it doesn’t mean we lost.

I have never seen such common bonding and general geniality over sports like I have here and it is one more thing I love about my new home town.  I still can’t say that I’m a baseball fan.  I can say that I’m a Kansas City and Royals fan.

I start this post sitting in a restaurant as a solo female diner. I have done this dozens of times before yet each time provides a new source of entertainment. In fact, had I not been a solo diner at a restaurant we really liked in DC, we would never have noticed that it was quite the same-sex date spot.  As the Seinfeld episode repeated: “Not that there is anything wrong with that” but only when you are a solo female diner who is not staring into your beloved’s eyes, you notice that there are few other female diners and they are not accompanied by male diners.  The male diners are busy holding hands with other male diners.  Endless people watching opportunities!

I remember that in high school I had a near crippling fear of being alone. I can’t remember when or why that changed but I do have distinct memories of going to lunch at the Magic Pan in the Burlington Mall ALONE (loved the split pea soup – it had sherry in it!) before going to the movies ALONE. That was the ultimate embarrassment – going to the movies by yourself. On one hand, it shouldn’t have mattered: it’s dark and after about 10 minutes no one remembers or cares that you came in by yourself. But the awkward teenager merely recalls that they couldn’t even get someone to sit in the dark near them. (Movies would have a breathy voice saying “loser” at this juncture.)

Since then I have been on  countless business trips which have required that I either ate alone or starved.  Admittedly there have been times when carry out in my hotel room was the best option but those evenings have been in the minority. Most have been similar to tonight’s adventure.

Walk into a respectable restaurant that won’t break the per diem but has been thoroughly vetted on Yelp and Urbanspoon before entry.  Ask for a table for one.  Smile inwardly at the teenage hostess’s unconcealed horror that you have to eat alone (insert variation of “poor thing” comment here).  Be seated at the least embarrassing place they have to offer – usually near the kitchen or a door where no one will see that you couldn’t get a date. Explain to the waiter that, no, you are not waiting for someone and, yes, he can take the other place setting.  Order a glass of wine (tonight it was Hess Chardonnay, very nice). Wave off the bread (first sign that you are a trouble maker – it’s the Bay area and it’s sourdough… what is up with you lady?) Watch people get seated around you.  Note who seems to pity the poor middle aged woman sitting by herself.  (Not many BTW, most folks are completely self absorbed.) Order a nice dinner (mesquite grilled sole, roasted veggies and fingerling potatoes).  Watch the entertainment around you.

Not having a dinner companion in whom you have a great deal of interest, solo diners can observe the humanity around them. (Note to self:  there’s got to be NSF research money in this.  Look into it upon return to KC.)  I watched the “Particular Four” – a group of 3 men and a woman who sat at no fewer than 4 tables before they decided the last table was the right one for them.  (These were all within one dining room and no more than 10 feet from each other. I couldn’t see what one had to offer over the other but then I was the loser without a date.) I overheard the conversation that the two female friends at the table next to me were carrying on – until they weren’t.  Apparently one was hispanic, or native enough in Spanish that when the Spanish-speaking waiter appeared, she felt the need to converse extensively with him in Spanish.  Her dinner companion obviously did NOT speak Spanish and was left staring into space and trying not to suck down her martini-type drink while the conversation swirled around her.  I don’t claim to speak Spanish in any way that would be useful but I do understand enough to know that she was being a PITA (pain in the ass).

I watched groups greet each other enthusiastically and couples sit quietly, some in the comfortable silence that comes with deep understanding and some with that uncomfortable “holy shit now what do we talk about” that signals deeper problems.  I watched attendees at an apparent business dinner get “friendlier” as the waitstaff brought out more alcohol.  If I had stayed longer I would have started taking bets as to who would not make it to work on time tomorrow.

But alas my sociology experiment, I mean dinner, had come to an end so it’s back to the hotel to do some work and get ready for tomorrow’s meetings where I won’t be alone and I hope that I won’t wish that I was.

Am I my resume?  That paints a picture of a person I don’t know*

Tomorrow is the KC marathon – I’m supposed to run the half marathon but that won’t be happening.  My old lady feet have decreed that 3 miles are painful so 13.1 miles are out of the question.  It may be that my days as a distance runner (slow but still a runner) are numbered.  That has been such an important part of my view of myself that it’s taking some time for me to truly fathom the implications.  It’s possible that things will improve and I’ll realize my goal of winning my age group because I’m the only one in it but I fear it will not come to pass.

So if I’m not a runner, am I a different person?  As I sat and cheered for the local baseball team while polishing  R code to do some parallel processing of 3 different structured learning models, it occurred to me that these are different activities than had occupied my time in the past.  People change and grow and that’s natural. However, most often such transformations have tended to be the evolutionary type:  change is slow and incremental.  And yes, eventually you wind up somewhere that you don’t recognize because the sum of those small differences changes your path and you wind up heading in a different direction.

Sometimes this can be painful.  I’m not sure Frank realized how far he has traveled from just being “the car guy”.  He is really enjoying his job refurbishing used cars – it’s actually pretty close to what he did with his students as a teacher – but he is noticing the differences he has with his coworkers.  Funny enough, most of them haven’t seen “La Boheme” at the Met.  That’s not to say a large number of high school teachers have either, but they understood and appreciated what that meant and some even liked opera.  Not many of his current compatriots have that same disposition.  It’s not bad, but it’s different and makes him wonder about his view of himself as well. (But yes, he can still fix anything, loves getting his hands dirty, and dreams of all the cars he will own someday.  So maybe not so different. 🙂 )

And I find myself having come full circle:  when I was on the job market nearly 20 years ago, I was accused of data mining – a terrible thing in the economics world.  Now I’m studying it at local business school.  I knew I was never a “real” economist but I didn’t know that I’ve been a pseudo data scientist this whole time but with an economics focus. Yes, I am still the data queen, metadata maven, empress of the universe – choose your favorite exalted title! – but now I’m one who doesn’t run at 5am but enjoys drinking coffee and reading the paper before leaving for work.  I may turn out to be the kind who manages to hit the gym after work, understands bullpen strategies, and does machine learning research. Who knows?

You’ll have to come to KC to see who meets you at the airport. I can promise good food and wine.  The rest we’ll have to make up as we go!

* Bonus points for anyone who recognized the song lyric without clicking on the link.