Two months later...
I've finished my first B&W photo class, and I am so hooked. I actually feel bad about my color photography, because there is nothing going on there at all. At the end of the session, we mounted the photos we wanted to show to the rest of the class, and then during the final class we showed them in a little mini-show type of thing. It went really well. I had too many. Of course, this means that what I have done is now mounted to mat board, and its too much of a pain to scan them to share... so in the future, I'll be scanning my work BEFORE I mount it :) If anyone is still bothering to check this here nearly abandoned blog, you can check back periodically in the next few weeks and I will try to scan & post as i complete things...thus avoiding a big backlog. hopefully.
At any rate, the showing went well, and I was invited back to show the night class (more advanced) what I had been doing. Paul (instructor) didn't tell them I was a newbie - when they found out, they were surprised. I felt a little awkward, but I was glad that I went. I now have a lot more ideas...
So...work...is still going. I tried to quit on Wednesday, actually, but was talked out of it with the promise of the company being more sensitive to my scheduling needs. So hopefully, there will be fewer trips down to the office (100 miles, roundtrip). I might try and take every other week off. something like that. but I simply need more studio time. and house time. and dog time. So maybe if I work from home, it'll be easier to get house & dog stuff done. I hope to be spending 3 full days a week either shooting or in the darkroom. I'm doing 2 days a week easily now, and a little extra time would be nice.
Its funny. this year may actually be my 'golden year'. Things just seem to be lining up. We've paid off all of our bad debt (cars & mortgage = good debt). Work is fullfilling for both of us. We have friends. I'm being validated big time with my photography, and in general, we're just plain happy.
and its very odd to be happy. for once. just plain happy. at least for me. The problems that i have (and i still complain, only not as much) are really good problems, and don't deserve to be complained about. I can't help but realize how lucky and happy we are every day.
and, thusly, beware the undertoad. Are you familiar with the undertoad? its that uneasy feeling lurking around in the background. that 'waiting for the other shoe to drop' feeling.
In the past week and a half, I've had a set of 3 deaths - a friend of mine (from texas, rather suddenly), a friend's father was seriously ill and then his aunt passed away, and another friend lost her father. i firmly believe in the set of 3, so I hope thats all there is for now.
but yet that undertoad lurks. its there. and it makes me uneasy. beware the undertoad.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Tuckerman's Ravine
So we went up to Jackson, NH last weekend for a romantic escape from reality - something we've been dying to do for years now, but we've been prevented from doing by the military (logistically, anyway). For Labor Day Weekend in the White Mountains, traffic wasn't all that bad.
This is where we stayed: The Inn at Jackson The innkeeper, Don, was a really nice guy, in a laid back, non-sugary, not overdone kind of way. We definately plan on going back this winter, although I think I'll spring for a room that has a fireplace so all of our gear will dry out - probably better for both our gear and the room...
So on Sunday, it was a crappy day. Cold, rainy, windy; Former Hurricane Ernesto was coming through. What else could we do for fun other than climb the mountain with 'The Worlds Worst Weather'? I mean, its there, right?
So we did. We started late, around 11 a.m. - after, of course, a very large and filling breakfast at the inn (I had a huge omelette, toast, fruit, juice, coffee, and a muffin - but I didn't finish the omelette). We took the Tuckerman Ravine trail from the AMC visitors center at Pinkham Notch (Elevation: 2032 feet above sea level (ASL)), and climbed...up...
It wasn't too steep, but it was constant. Obviously it varied over the 4.1 miles or so to the summit. We veered off the Tuckerman Ravine Trail to get onto Lion Heads trail at about the 2.3-mile mark (elevation: 3825' ASL). The AMC guide had said it would take us 2 hours, 5 minutes to reach this junction - we had been climbing for 1 hour and 11 min. We thought we were in pretty good shape to shave an hour off that ascent. Its not that we weren't, but thats where the rapid progress stopped.
Once we got on the Lion Head Trail, the trail became much narrower, and much less user-friendly. K & distrated ourselves with discussing greek & roman mythology (which stemmed from a comment about how I was glad I married K, since he was the only person I had ever found that would do stuff like this with me - he said it was like stringing Ulysses bow - I'm still not sure if thats a good or a bad thing).
The Lion Head trail required much scrambling, and it seemed like it started raining harder the instant we stepped on the trail. At one point there was either a ladder or an extremely steep staircase- hard to tell which- bolted to a rock face. K made a comment that he would have used 6" lag screws instead of the 4" they decided to go with. I guess I did marry an engineer... At any rate, the ladder/stair held, although it was a bit slippery from all the rain.
Every rock was starting to get pretty slippery. It was getting noticeably cooler, as we were climbing more steadily. The views, although obscured by clouds and fog, were simply amazing, especially after the trail levelled off a bit and followed the ridgeline near Lion Head (elev: 4950' ASL or so). I'm sure we'll have to do it again someday, when it is clear, preferably during foliage season. But simply to be that high up, and have the valley below you dissappear into the fog was breath taking. When we got to Lion Head (an actual point on the map), I stood on a rock and peered over into Tuckerman's Ravine below, which was obscurred by fog/clouds. And I laughed and laughed and shouted. To be suspended above a ravine that steep in such bad weather was just really amusing for some reason. I couldn't see the bottom. I think if I had KNOWN what it looked like during good weather, I may have been nervous. As it was, K was worried about being blown off. But it was just really funny to me. In a crazy sort of way. In a 'I can't believe I'm doing this' sort of way.
Eventually, we rejoined the Tuckerman Ravine Trail near the summit of Mt. Washington (elev: 5675' ASL, distance: 3.8 mile. est time: 3h, 45 m. Actual time: approx 2.5 hr). At this point, the 'trail' became more like climbing a giant rock pile. K commented that this was NOT what he was expecting... Much more scrambling and picking your way across boulder tops than the word 'trail' connotates to us. But it was fine. Kind of slippery in the rain (which was coming down/coming across steadily now, and the wind had picked up to about 30 MPH- so it was blowing sideways, and the straps from the pack would hurt when they smacked into you). We had put on most of our clothes, and our gloves at this point. We were soaked to the bone, and I was starting to get tired.
Eventually we made it up to the summit. It was...windy- about 40 MPH; 40 degrees (F), and the rain was blowing sideways into us, through our rain gear & our clothes. Needless to say, there was no view :) Official summit elevation: 6288' ASL. Distance: 4.2 miles. estimated time: 4 hr 15 min. Actual time: 3.5 hr. We finished one of our water bottles and stuffed it in the pack.
We sat in the lodge/gift shop/observatory building and had a surprisingly NOT over priced chilidog & a hot chocolate. I seemed to get colder and colder just sitting there, inside. I assume they had the heat on in there, but maybe not. There were a whole lot of miserable hikers in there. After about half an hour of sitting, eating, and trying to warm up, we gave up and headed back down the mountain- after putting all of our wet gear back on, as well as our softshell jackets UNDER our rain gear. I was still cold.
When we left, there were two hikers behind us who left at the same time, and they were yelling like crazy into the wind like I had been earlier. We ended up splitting off the trail with them when they went down the way we had come up (via Lion Head trail - didn't envy them that). We went down Tuckerman's Ravine, just for the change in scenary. And because I did not want to go down what I had just come up- I was holding out hope that the Tuckerman Ravine Trail would prove to be a little easier because it was the more popular route.
I don't know that it much easier. It was down right scary at the headwall- the sheer drop combined with the slippery rocks... But the view, or what we could see & hear of it, was beautiful. Maybe it was more beautiful because of all the rain - the waterfalls were gushing right along. The wildflowers were also in bloom, and that, combined with the fog, the rain, and the waterfalls made it feel very close to eden. That, and when we got to the headwall, we were out of the worst of the wind.
There is a trail that branched off just before we got to the headwall; it was called the "Alpine Garden Trail" - it crosses from that point to the Lion Head Trail and to Huntington Ravine Trail and points beyond. That trail must be absolutely gorgeous, given its name, and what I saw of its beginning. Next time, I think I'd prefer to go UP Tuckerman's Ravine, and take the Alpine Garden trail over to Huntingon Ravine & down, or work our way down otherwise. From what little I got to see of the view from Tuckermans, I think the more ravines I can find, the better off I'll be :) And you can always drive up Mt Washington to see the view from the top. I've done that now & I'd like to explore a little more.
After the waterfalls & the floor of the ravine, the rest was just downhill. By this point, my knees were hurting pretty badly, and I just wanted to be done. I was tired & sore. When we finally got to the bottom, we heard voices behind us, and the same 2 guys from the top had rejoined our trail, so apparently, they survived the rock faces and the ladder on Lion Head, although it must have slow going- we stopped to enjoy the view frequently, and so did they, apparently. So I don't know about those time estimates in the AMC guide.
When we were unloading the pack (soaked) in the car, we pulled out one of the empty water bottles that we had stuffed in there at the summit. The bottle was all deformed and sucked-in on itself- apparently the air at 6,000-feet is less dense :)
This is where we stayed: The Inn at Jackson The innkeeper, Don, was a really nice guy, in a laid back, non-sugary, not overdone kind of way. We definately plan on going back this winter, although I think I'll spring for a room that has a fireplace so all of our gear will dry out - probably better for both our gear and the room...
So on Sunday, it was a crappy day. Cold, rainy, windy; Former Hurricane Ernesto was coming through. What else could we do for fun other than climb the mountain with 'The Worlds Worst Weather'? I mean, its there, right?
So we did. We started late, around 11 a.m. - after, of course, a very large and filling breakfast at the inn (I had a huge omelette, toast, fruit, juice, coffee, and a muffin - but I didn't finish the omelette). We took the Tuckerman Ravine trail from the AMC visitors center at Pinkham Notch (Elevation: 2032 feet above sea level (ASL)), and climbed...up...
It wasn't too steep, but it was constant. Obviously it varied over the 4.1 miles or so to the summit. We veered off the Tuckerman Ravine Trail to get onto Lion Heads trail at about the 2.3-mile mark (elevation: 3825' ASL). The AMC guide had said it would take us 2 hours, 5 minutes to reach this junction - we had been climbing for 1 hour and 11 min. We thought we were in pretty good shape to shave an hour off that ascent. Its not that we weren't, but thats where the rapid progress stopped.
Once we got on the Lion Head Trail, the trail became much narrower, and much less user-friendly. K & distrated ourselves with discussing greek & roman mythology (which stemmed from a comment about how I was glad I married K, since he was the only person I had ever found that would do stuff like this with me - he said it was like stringing Ulysses bow - I'm still not sure if thats a good or a bad thing).
The Lion Head trail required much scrambling, and it seemed like it started raining harder the instant we stepped on the trail. At one point there was either a ladder or an extremely steep staircase- hard to tell which- bolted to a rock face. K made a comment that he would have used 6" lag screws instead of the 4" they decided to go with. I guess I did marry an engineer... At any rate, the ladder/stair held, although it was a bit slippery from all the rain.
Every rock was starting to get pretty slippery. It was getting noticeably cooler, as we were climbing more steadily. The views, although obscured by clouds and fog, were simply amazing, especially after the trail levelled off a bit and followed the ridgeline near Lion Head (elev: 4950' ASL or so). I'm sure we'll have to do it again someday, when it is clear, preferably during foliage season. But simply to be that high up, and have the valley below you dissappear into the fog was breath taking. When we got to Lion Head (an actual point on the map), I stood on a rock and peered over into Tuckerman's Ravine below, which was obscurred by fog/clouds. And I laughed and laughed and shouted. To be suspended above a ravine that steep in such bad weather was just really amusing for some reason. I couldn't see the bottom. I think if I had KNOWN what it looked like during good weather, I may have been nervous. As it was, K was worried about being blown off. But it was just really funny to me. In a crazy sort of way. In a 'I can't believe I'm doing this' sort of way.
Eventually, we rejoined the Tuckerman Ravine Trail near the summit of Mt. Washington (elev: 5675' ASL, distance: 3.8 mile. est time: 3h, 45 m. Actual time: approx 2.5 hr). At this point, the 'trail' became more like climbing a giant rock pile. K commented that this was NOT what he was expecting... Much more scrambling and picking your way across boulder tops than the word 'trail' connotates to us. But it was fine. Kind of slippery in the rain (which was coming down/coming across steadily now, and the wind had picked up to about 30 MPH- so it was blowing sideways, and the straps from the pack would hurt when they smacked into you). We had put on most of our clothes, and our gloves at this point. We were soaked to the bone, and I was starting to get tired.
Eventually we made it up to the summit. It was...windy- about 40 MPH; 40 degrees (F), and the rain was blowing sideways into us, through our rain gear & our clothes. Needless to say, there was no view :) Official summit elevation: 6288' ASL. Distance: 4.2 miles. estimated time: 4 hr 15 min. Actual time: 3.5 hr. We finished one of our water bottles and stuffed it in the pack.
We sat in the lodge/gift shop/observatory building and had a surprisingly NOT over priced chilidog & a hot chocolate. I seemed to get colder and colder just sitting there, inside. I assume they had the heat on in there, but maybe not. There were a whole lot of miserable hikers in there. After about half an hour of sitting, eating, and trying to warm up, we gave up and headed back down the mountain- after putting all of our wet gear back on, as well as our softshell jackets UNDER our rain gear. I was still cold.
When we left, there were two hikers behind us who left at the same time, and they were yelling like crazy into the wind like I had been earlier. We ended up splitting off the trail with them when they went down the way we had come up (via Lion Head trail - didn't envy them that). We went down Tuckerman's Ravine, just for the change in scenary. And because I did not want to go down what I had just come up- I was holding out hope that the Tuckerman Ravine Trail would prove to be a little easier because it was the more popular route.
I don't know that it much easier. It was down right scary at the headwall- the sheer drop combined with the slippery rocks... But the view, or what we could see & hear of it, was beautiful. Maybe it was more beautiful because of all the rain - the waterfalls were gushing right along. The wildflowers were also in bloom, and that, combined with the fog, the rain, and the waterfalls made it feel very close to eden. That, and when we got to the headwall, we were out of the worst of the wind.
There is a trail that branched off just before we got to the headwall; it was called the "Alpine Garden Trail" - it crosses from that point to the Lion Head Trail and to Huntington Ravine Trail and points beyond. That trail must be absolutely gorgeous, given its name, and what I saw of its beginning. Next time, I think I'd prefer to go UP Tuckerman's Ravine, and take the Alpine Garden trail over to Huntingon Ravine & down, or work our way down otherwise. From what little I got to see of the view from Tuckermans, I think the more ravines I can find, the better off I'll be :) And you can always drive up Mt Washington to see the view from the top. I've done that now & I'd like to explore a little more.
After the waterfalls & the floor of the ravine, the rest was just downhill. By this point, my knees were hurting pretty badly, and I just wanted to be done. I was tired & sore. When we finally got to the bottom, we heard voices behind us, and the same 2 guys from the top had rejoined our trail, so apparently, they survived the rock faces and the ladder on Lion Head, although it must have slow going- we stopped to enjoy the view frequently, and so did they, apparently. So I don't know about those time estimates in the AMC guide.
When we were unloading the pack (soaked) in the car, we pulled out one of the empty water bottles that we had stuffed in there at the summit. The bottle was all deformed and sucked-in on itself- apparently the air at 6,000-feet is less dense :)
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
It's coming
These last few days have been the sort of summer days that, although beautiful, remind you that fall is definately on its way. Perfectly sunny, warm during the day, cool at night, and no humidity (well, not NONE... 45% or so). Its like 9/11 was. 'an almost too perfect day' as Ani Difranco has said. Wonder if I'll ever be able to enjoy a late summer day without comparing it to that day.
When I woke up this morning, it was 54 degrees outside (you folks who aren't here in America will have to do your own calculations...). I put on fleece socks, jeans, a long sleeve shirt and a light weight but very fuzzy wool sweater. I was cold. It was beautiful.
There are flocks of Canada geese around too. I think its a little early for them to be migrating, but what do I know. I haven't seen many this summer and suddenly there a little packets of them in the fields where there were none last week.
The local orchard/farmstand opens today. I can't believe its that late in the year. They'll stay open until just after the Holidays, I think... although they might close after Thanksgiving. Soon I'll have to be dodging droves of weekend apple-pickers with their toddlers as the slowly cross the street...in a 45MPH zone. And I'll complain heavily, I'm sure.
Soon enough, though. Soon enough. 54 will feel WARM. I'll leave the heat turned all the way up to 60 and will tell K to get a sweater. The dogs & the cats will curl up together on the dog beds, huddling for warmth (and they'll suck me in). We'll be watching the thermometer drop, hear reports of black ice (which never apply to us since we live more or less in the middle of nowhere). There will be days where I'll refuse to leave the house, except maybe to shovel. Which reminds me- I need to get the snowblower repaired. Now.
This is why I love New England. No matter how BAD or how GOOD out it is, you know its going to change. It always changes. Something is always coming or going. It leads to a short attention span when it comes to weather. And scenery.
Foliage is coming. Frost in the morning. Big meaty stews, and buttenut squash ravioli's. Crunching leaves under foot and that fall smell. And lets not forget turkey (ahhhh thanksgiving, the one holiday I kind of like, as long as I don't think too hard about what it actually means- how horribly we treated the natives).
Life is short, and there is nothing like the cycle of the seasons in New England to remind us of that. It's coming.
When I woke up this morning, it was 54 degrees outside (you folks who aren't here in America will have to do your own calculations...). I put on fleece socks, jeans, a long sleeve shirt and a light weight but very fuzzy wool sweater. I was cold. It was beautiful.
There are flocks of Canada geese around too. I think its a little early for them to be migrating, but what do I know. I haven't seen many this summer and suddenly there a little packets of them in the fields where there were none last week.
The local orchard/farmstand opens today. I can't believe its that late in the year. They'll stay open until just after the Holidays, I think... although they might close after Thanksgiving. Soon I'll have to be dodging droves of weekend apple-pickers with their toddlers as the slowly cross the street...in a 45MPH zone. And I'll complain heavily, I'm sure.
Soon enough, though. Soon enough. 54 will feel WARM. I'll leave the heat turned all the way up to 60 and will tell K to get a sweater. The dogs & the cats will curl up together on the dog beds, huddling for warmth (and they'll suck me in). We'll be watching the thermometer drop, hear reports of black ice (which never apply to us since we live more or less in the middle of nowhere). There will be days where I'll refuse to leave the house, except maybe to shovel. Which reminds me- I need to get the snowblower repaired. Now.
This is why I love New England. No matter how BAD or how GOOD out it is, you know its going to change. It always changes. Something is always coming or going. It leads to a short attention span when it comes to weather. And scenery.
Foliage is coming. Frost in the morning. Big meaty stews, and buttenut squash ravioli's. Crunching leaves under foot and that fall smell. And lets not forget turkey (ahhhh thanksgiving, the one holiday I kind of like, as long as I don't think too hard about what it actually means- how horribly we treated the natives).
Life is short, and there is nothing like the cycle of the seasons in New England to remind us of that. It's coming.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
The Pan Mass Challange (PMC)
So today was the Pan Mass Challange - aka the PMC. The PMC is a 1 or 2 day long bike ride from central Massachusetts to the cape, or to eastern Mass. Of course, its a fundraiser- in this case, a major fundraiser for the Jimmy Fund, which does a lot of work with cancer in children, and for the Dana Farber Cancer Institute which treats cancer patients of all ages, as well as performs cutting edge research on new cancer treatments.
We chose a one-day, 72-mile (in theory) route from Sturbridge to Wellesley. We got up at 3:30 in the morning, and drove to Sturbridge for the 6am start. We were done riding by about 1 pm. So it took us about 7 hours ride to 80 miles (this was the first year for this particular route, and it was very poorly marked once the different routes split up).
Today was one of the best days of my life.
Basically, I rode 80 miles, most of the time slapping the hands of little kids who were holding them out, waiting for just that gesture. There were a lot of people cheering, and saying 'thank you'. Entire families out cheering on their lawns at 6 o'clock in the morning on a Saturday. All 4000 riders, and 2000 volunteers, and all those countless supporters - all united for the hope for the future. The hope that a cure for cancer can be found. I helped raise $25 Million today. And it felt SO good to be a part of that, to feel empowered, and not feel so alone. Everyone there was there for a reason - either they are a survivor, or they know a survivor, or they have losted a loved one. We were all in it together, we all have that common thread, but we all had our own individual stories and reasons. And they are all painful to hear & think about (but, becuase of the hope we've helped raise, the atmosphere almost all day long was one of celebration).
I remembered over & over the day I signed K & I up for the ride- the day of the funeral for a friend of the family. I couldn't make it home for the funeral (we were on the road for K's job, and with such short notice, it wasn't possible), so I signed up for the PMC instead. I just remember how helpless and miserable I felt on that day, and today went a LONG way towards soothing that. It can't be fixed, but it can be turned around a little bit so that SOME good can come out of it.
There's a good chance that either my sister or I will be diagnosed with cancer at one point in our lives; our mother had cancer, and many relatives have had cancer. The PMC is one way to help our own personal fight on two levels: I can help raise funds for research that may one day directly benefit me & I can train for this event year after year, giving me a focus and a reason to maintain my physical fitness, which will likely reduce my risk for developing certain types of cancers, or at least, keep me stronger when it becomes my turn to fight it.
Of course, we, like many other people, have a long list of friends and loved ones that we have seen fight cancer; many have lost the fight, but many are also winning the fight. The ONLY way, really, I can help any of us is to help raise funds for research- so that we might all reap the benefits.
The ride is done for this year. But there is always next year, and next year will be bigger. and better.
We chose a one-day, 72-mile (in theory) route from Sturbridge to Wellesley. We got up at 3:30 in the morning, and drove to Sturbridge for the 6am start. We were done riding by about 1 pm. So it took us about 7 hours ride to 80 miles (this was the first year for this particular route, and it was very poorly marked once the different routes split up).
Today was one of the best days of my life.
Basically, I rode 80 miles, most of the time slapping the hands of little kids who were holding them out, waiting for just that gesture. There were a lot of people cheering, and saying 'thank you'. Entire families out cheering on their lawns at 6 o'clock in the morning on a Saturday. All 4000 riders, and 2000 volunteers, and all those countless supporters - all united for the hope for the future. The hope that a cure for cancer can be found. I helped raise $25 Million today. And it felt SO good to be a part of that, to feel empowered, and not feel so alone. Everyone there was there for a reason - either they are a survivor, or they know a survivor, or they have losted a loved one. We were all in it together, we all have that common thread, but we all had our own individual stories and reasons. And they are all painful to hear & think about (but, becuase of the hope we've helped raise, the atmosphere almost all day long was one of celebration).
I remembered over & over the day I signed K & I up for the ride- the day of the funeral for a friend of the family. I couldn't make it home for the funeral (we were on the road for K's job, and with such short notice, it wasn't possible), so I signed up for the PMC instead. I just remember how helpless and miserable I felt on that day, and today went a LONG way towards soothing that. It can't be fixed, but it can be turned around a little bit so that SOME good can come out of it.
There's a good chance that either my sister or I will be diagnosed with cancer at one point in our lives; our mother had cancer, and many relatives have had cancer. The PMC is one way to help our own personal fight on two levels: I can help raise funds for research that may one day directly benefit me & I can train for this event year after year, giving me a focus and a reason to maintain my physical fitness, which will likely reduce my risk for developing certain types of cancers, or at least, keep me stronger when it becomes my turn to fight it.
Of course, we, like many other people, have a long list of friends and loved ones that we have seen fight cancer; many have lost the fight, but many are also winning the fight. The ONLY way, really, I can help any of us is to help raise funds for research- so that we might all reap the benefits.
The ride is done for this year. But there is always next year, and next year will be bigger. and better.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Birthdays, in general, suck
This is my issue with birthdays: they never really work out. There is always SOMETHING negative that I can remember from every year- and then on my Bday, I add to the list, and remember them all at the same time. Its the one day a year where you can usually remember where you are, and it backfires in the worst way.
This year was pretty good, until the husband says he hoped to make up for all the crappy ones we've endured since we got married (and into the military). Then I remembered how bad it'd been in the past, and all the different places I'd been on my bday because of his job, and I just kind of realized how ridiculous and meaningless the last several years have been, and started wondering, what, exactly, am I going to do with myself now that I've started down this road and flushed my career down the toilet - and done so of my own free will. One thing just leads to another and it spirals out of control. And he meant well, and I know what he meant, and I appreciated the sentiment and it was WAY better than the ones in the past, except that I can't run away from my own memories, even just for a day.
And then my sister completely ignored the whole thing. I wasn't looking for a gift (I don't really understand why, except I don't like gifts from my own family- we have very different tasts and desisres, yet I always have to act happy and thankful, lest I be labelled 'ungrateful' - obviously I haven't TOLD them I have a BLOG. I don't tell them much, actually, out of self-preservation). But a phone call would have been nice. An email, even. I'm not even asking for a card :) My own sister. Who ever has these warm fuzzy feelings about sisters has apparently not spent any time with my sister & I.
I guess it boils down to this: Birthdays are just another one of those calander days that make you reflect on what you've accomplished in life, particularily in the past year, and I HATE days like that. I have nothing to show to myself, for myself. I feel very much like I am living in that Be Good Tanya's song "waiting around to die". It sounds a little harsher than intended, but basically its true. Another year has gone by, another tick on the wall, and I'm still waiting for....what? Life to start? life to hurry up and end? I imagine myself living to old age, and still trying to figure what is going on, what I want to do, and still having no answers at the age of 90.
Birthdays are just really emotionally packed days, where incindental things by other people get magnified & take on extra meaning (like my sister) and then you remember those things way longer than is healthy. Or I do :)
I'm tempted to stop celebrating all together, except I know deep down I'll still be thinking 'this used to me my birthday' and then nothing is really accomplished at all. I've tried that with Christmas, to no avail. The holidays suck too.
This year was pretty good, until the husband says he hoped to make up for all the crappy ones we've endured since we got married (and into the military). Then I remembered how bad it'd been in the past, and all the different places I'd been on my bday because of his job, and I just kind of realized how ridiculous and meaningless the last several years have been, and started wondering, what, exactly, am I going to do with myself now that I've started down this road and flushed my career down the toilet - and done so of my own free will. One thing just leads to another and it spirals out of control. And he meant well, and I know what he meant, and I appreciated the sentiment and it was WAY better than the ones in the past, except that I can't run away from my own memories, even just for a day.
And then my sister completely ignored the whole thing. I wasn't looking for a gift (I don't really understand why, except I don't like gifts from my own family- we have very different tasts and desisres, yet I always have to act happy and thankful, lest I be labelled 'ungrateful' - obviously I haven't TOLD them I have a BLOG. I don't tell them much, actually, out of self-preservation). But a phone call would have been nice. An email, even. I'm not even asking for a card :) My own sister. Who ever has these warm fuzzy feelings about sisters has apparently not spent any time with my sister & I.
I guess it boils down to this: Birthdays are just another one of those calander days that make you reflect on what you've accomplished in life, particularily in the past year, and I HATE days like that. I have nothing to show to myself, for myself. I feel very much like I am living in that Be Good Tanya's song "waiting around to die". It sounds a little harsher than intended, but basically its true. Another year has gone by, another tick on the wall, and I'm still waiting for....what? Life to start? life to hurry up and end? I imagine myself living to old age, and still trying to figure what is going on, what I want to do, and still having no answers at the age of 90.
Birthdays are just really emotionally packed days, where incindental things by other people get magnified & take on extra meaning (like my sister) and then you remember those things way longer than is healthy. Or I do :)
I'm tempted to stop celebrating all together, except I know deep down I'll still be thinking 'this used to me my birthday' and then nothing is really accomplished at all. I've tried that with Christmas, to no avail. The holidays suck too.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
giant furry flying crayfish
So I was hanging laundry in the back yard and I saw a giant, furry, flying crayfish looking thing -it had a proboscis like a hummingbird, only it was curved and didn't appear to be as fixed as a hummingbirds. It had a tail that was segmented-looking, much like a crayfish or lobster. It had attenae too- very odd. What was even more odd is that it could have cared less that I was following it around, trying to figure out what it was. It didn't run away, and it didn't attack me.
After some googling around, I've discovered that it was a "hummingbird moth". A moth that appears in the daytime and eats nectar. woulda thunk?
it was cute, in an ugly sort of way. I've never heard of, let alone SEEN, anything like it.
After some googling around, I've discovered that it was a "hummingbird moth". A moth that appears in the daytime and eats nectar. woulda thunk?
it was cute, in an ugly sort of way. I've never heard of, let alone SEEN, anything like it.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Its been a month
So its been OVER a month, really, since I had anything useful to say. For those of your keeping track (which is few, if any, I know :) ): I've had a birthday. not a milestone birthday, not by any means, but its the first time i've actually noticed I'm getting older. Maybe because this is the year when life actually STARTS and the limbo is over (for me personally - not normal by any stretch of the immagination).
This week, I've had adventures in endurance sports. On monday, I rode my first metric century (62 miles...on a bike)- my longest ride ever. not a huge deal, but its a start. 'longest ride ever' really has a special ring to it. On Thursday, I ran about 4.5 miles. again, not a huge deal, but the second longest run I've ever done. with both of these 'events', it was just something I went and did, with very little forethought or planning- just happened. I think subconsciously, this is my retaliation against 'getting old' - and i am no where near old yet.
---
I went to Decordova, a local art museum, and discovered I inadvertantly stole my blog title from them. I don't remember reading it on their website, but there it was 'Sense of Place' - an exhibit - so I must have seen it at some time and not recognized it when I spewed it out later on. I like the title, obviously, but I guess it will have to go. damnit.
After viewing their sculpture park, it occurred to me that I have a yard deeply in need of some sculptural help. I have some really neat stuff lying around (as any packrat would), and so I have some ambitious yard-sculpture plans in the making. Something that is, at least initially, shiny and will reflect light or at the very least make moving shadows for the dog to chase. I have NO idea what I am getting into, but if anyone has an old bicycle lying around that they would like to donate, by all means- let me know. hopefully, it'll make noise as well as shadows/reflections. we'll see. a toy for the dog - mere eye candy. for the dog. naturally.
This week, I've had adventures in endurance sports. On monday, I rode my first metric century (62 miles...on a bike)- my longest ride ever. not a huge deal, but its a start. 'longest ride ever' really has a special ring to it. On Thursday, I ran about 4.5 miles. again, not a huge deal, but the second longest run I've ever done. with both of these 'events', it was just something I went and did, with very little forethought or planning- just happened. I think subconsciously, this is my retaliation against 'getting old' - and i am no where near old yet.
---
I went to Decordova, a local art museum, and discovered I inadvertantly stole my blog title from them. I don't remember reading it on their website, but there it was 'Sense of Place' - an exhibit - so I must have seen it at some time and not recognized it when I spewed it out later on. I like the title, obviously, but I guess it will have to go. damnit.
After viewing their sculpture park, it occurred to me that I have a yard deeply in need of some sculptural help. I have some really neat stuff lying around (as any packrat would), and so I have some ambitious yard-sculpture plans in the making. Something that is, at least initially, shiny and will reflect light or at the very least make moving shadows for the dog to chase. I have NO idea what I am getting into, but if anyone has an old bicycle lying around that they would like to donate, by all means- let me know. hopefully, it'll make noise as well as shadows/reflections. we'll see. a toy for the dog - mere eye candy. for the dog. naturally.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Walden
Looks like summer is finally here. We've had out first 90+ degree days (they came and went quickly in typical New Engalnd fashion). And so has the time of year when the swimsuit doesn't ever get to fully dry out. Pulling on a wet swimsuit is SO much fun...
I've been to Walden twice this week. Once for kayaking (where we found a kayaker named *J* who demanded to know whether *K2* knew how to save his own ass if he happened to flip - as if it were any of his business.... If I want to die from stupidity, please let me...) - and I have found that, in general, the kayakers at Walden seem to fit in well with the Concord scene... "Look at my expensive boat, and lets see how much info you can spew out- whether the other person wants to hear it or not" or "lets sit around in our kayaks and talk but not really DO anything, as we are on a small pond that i have paddled a hundred times, and really once was enough". I WISH like hell I didn't want to move to Concord in a few years, and buy a nice little house. BUT they have coffee shops, and art galleries, lots of open space for trail running, easy access to the commuter train, they're dog friendly AND they have Walden. Everything I want, but I know I'll just complain about my neihgbors, the people, constantly. Everything that I love Concord for is also what draws the people I want nothing to do with. Like a moth to a flame... but I digress...
The second time to Walden this week: yesterday, on the solstice. What better way to spend that magical longest day of the year. In the warm light of the waning solstice...golden, perfect. The sun warming my shoulders. Thanks to Las Vegas, I think this is the tannest I've ever been this early in the year. Lets hear it for skin cancer.
Yesterday was sacred. Theres no denying it. A perfect celebration, far better than any birthday or Christmas. Just the quiet simplicity- I didn't even hear any young kids screeching across the pond. There were some really loud teenage boys who, undoubtedly, were celebrating being out of school, gearing up for a summer of heavy drinking and womanizer training.
But the quiet, the stillness. the golden late day sun. the light patterns dancing off the water and lighting the showdy parts of the trees that are growing close to shore. I kept thinking "this is new england summer at its best" - but how can the best day of summer be the first day of summer? what does that say about the rest of the season?
The good news is that I have a new 'happy place' to mentally teleport to in times of stress, or when I need to mentally check out of my body.
The fish were incredible. I wasn't swimming for exercise so much as diving to look at fish. beautiful fish: yellow; striped; baby fish, silver schools darting around, parting as I dove through their cloud; big fish too. More fish than I saw all of last year put together.
As usual, I pulled the '5 more minutes' routine... and with about 4.5 minutes left I was visciously attacted by a turtle. Well, no, not really. It swam into my back, near my shoulder. I was just standed there, treading water. Not so surprisingly really, but ironic since I had spent the entire evening joking about the pond monster that lived in the deep dark part of the pond. But it caught me by surprise, and I yelped. The Pond Monster got me. And apaprently, it was as surprised as I was, and took off in the other direction, most likely thinking 'that was not a big white rock at ALL'. I heard it was brown.
So there is a lesson for you: the Pond Monster can sneak up on you when you least expect it, and with no advance warning.
In other Walden news: there is something in the water at Walden... The car key that *K* (the other K) had in his pocket became all discolored. Not muddy, not dirty, but actually physically altered. The metal has oxidized or something. WHAT is in that water? Is that why there are no weeds growing?
Also, all my little crawfish friends that lived along the rock wall part of the pond are dead. They were lying upside down on their backs beneath the water. I think they dorwned in their little rock wall crevice homes because the water is so high this year. If I had to guess, the water is 3 FEET higher than it usually is. All the benches are underwater. It might be safe to declare the drought over. But I'm not really a hydrogeologist anymore, so don't take my word for it.
I've been to Walden twice this week. Once for kayaking (where we found a kayaker named *J* who demanded to know whether *K2* knew how to save his own ass if he happened to flip - as if it were any of his business.... If I want to die from stupidity, please let me...) - and I have found that, in general, the kayakers at Walden seem to fit in well with the Concord scene... "Look at my expensive boat, and lets see how much info you can spew out- whether the other person wants to hear it or not" or "lets sit around in our kayaks and talk but not really DO anything, as we are on a small pond that i have paddled a hundred times, and really once was enough". I WISH like hell I didn't want to move to Concord in a few years, and buy a nice little house. BUT they have coffee shops, and art galleries, lots of open space for trail running, easy access to the commuter train, they're dog friendly AND they have Walden. Everything I want, but I know I'll just complain about my neihgbors, the people, constantly. Everything that I love Concord for is also what draws the people I want nothing to do with. Like a moth to a flame... but I digress...
The second time to Walden this week: yesterday, on the solstice. What better way to spend that magical longest day of the year. In the warm light of the waning solstice...golden, perfect. The sun warming my shoulders. Thanks to Las Vegas, I think this is the tannest I've ever been this early in the year. Lets hear it for skin cancer.
Yesterday was sacred. Theres no denying it. A perfect celebration, far better than any birthday or Christmas. Just the quiet simplicity- I didn't even hear any young kids screeching across the pond. There were some really loud teenage boys who, undoubtedly, were celebrating being out of school, gearing up for a summer of heavy drinking and womanizer training.
But the quiet, the stillness. the golden late day sun. the light patterns dancing off the water and lighting the showdy parts of the trees that are growing close to shore. I kept thinking "this is new england summer at its best" - but how can the best day of summer be the first day of summer? what does that say about the rest of the season?
The good news is that I have a new 'happy place' to mentally teleport to in times of stress, or when I need to mentally check out of my body.
The fish were incredible. I wasn't swimming for exercise so much as diving to look at fish. beautiful fish: yellow; striped; baby fish, silver schools darting around, parting as I dove through their cloud; big fish too. More fish than I saw all of last year put together.
As usual, I pulled the '5 more minutes' routine... and with about 4.5 minutes left I was visciously attacted by a turtle. Well, no, not really. It swam into my back, near my shoulder. I was just standed there, treading water. Not so surprisingly really, but ironic since I had spent the entire evening joking about the pond monster that lived in the deep dark part of the pond. But it caught me by surprise, and I yelped. The Pond Monster got me. And apaprently, it was as surprised as I was, and took off in the other direction, most likely thinking 'that was not a big white rock at ALL'. I heard it was brown.
So there is a lesson for you: the Pond Monster can sneak up on you when you least expect it, and with no advance warning.
In other Walden news: there is something in the water at Walden... The car key that *K* (the other K) had in his pocket became all discolored. Not muddy, not dirty, but actually physically altered. The metal has oxidized or something. WHAT is in that water? Is that why there are no weeds growing?
Also, all my little crawfish friends that lived along the rock wall part of the pond are dead. They were lying upside down on their backs beneath the water. I think they dorwned in their little rock wall crevice homes because the water is so high this year. If I had to guess, the water is 3 FEET higher than it usually is. All the benches are underwater. It might be safe to declare the drought over. But I'm not really a hydrogeologist anymore, so don't take my word for it.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Relics and the tale of Kitchen renovation
Yesterday the other half of k2 & I went to an architectural salvage store in Amesbury, MA. We didn't find what we were looking for (old soapstone farmers sink), but there was an insane amount of really cool, but really dirty/dusty stuff. It reminded me of walking through the attic of the old house that the other 'ki' owned in Arlington Heights.
Mostly, they had old windows, old doors, old mantles, old urinals (from schools, it looked like) and door knobs. Its funny though- looking through all this stuff- it really seems like I'd see a lot of it in people's houses in the past. All the pieces were so familiar, it was comforting. Well, not the urinals, really. but the other stuff :)
We didn't buy a damn thing. But I think I'm hooked now. And I decided that we couldn't afford the sink we want, even if we happened to find it. Upwards of $1000 is too much to spend on a sink. And, apparently, the newly manufactured ones are cheaper than the older ones. Which defies logic to me, but oh well. Back to home depot for the acrylic composite, stain-proof microban sink for under $200. Call me cheap, but this house has way too many problems for me to spend that much on a sink. There is too much work to be done.
We ordered a really cool vent hood/microwave/convection oven from home depot a few weeks ago. the delivery day was supposed to be today (finally), and they were supposed to call me yesterday to set up a delivery time. they didn't call, at least not before I went to bed. They called me at almost 11 p.m. Getting woken up to an automated voice at 11 p.m. is ridiculous. I don't like getting called that late, and you can't tell a machine to go to hell (well, you can, but your point is lost). I thought someone had DIED. And to boot, I wont be home when they want to deliver it. SO... luckily, I'm not ready for it, and I will battle with them today to arrange re-delivery.
Imagine... If i had hired someone to do this for me, they would have to deal with all this crap. BUT it would cost me 4x as much, and all at once, and then I'd have to rely on them to get it RIGHT, and not let the cat out of the house. I'll take the 11 pm automated phone calls, I think...
Mostly, they had old windows, old doors, old mantles, old urinals (from schools, it looked like) and door knobs. Its funny though- looking through all this stuff- it really seems like I'd see a lot of it in people's houses in the past. All the pieces were so familiar, it was comforting. Well, not the urinals, really. but the other stuff :)
We didn't buy a damn thing. But I think I'm hooked now. And I decided that we couldn't afford the sink we want, even if we happened to find it. Upwards of $1000 is too much to spend on a sink. And, apparently, the newly manufactured ones are cheaper than the older ones. Which defies logic to me, but oh well. Back to home depot for the acrylic composite, stain-proof microban sink for under $200. Call me cheap, but this house has way too many problems for me to spend that much on a sink. There is too much work to be done.
We ordered a really cool vent hood/microwave/convection oven from home depot a few weeks ago. the delivery day was supposed to be today (finally), and they were supposed to call me yesterday to set up a delivery time. they didn't call, at least not before I went to bed. They called me at almost 11 p.m. Getting woken up to an automated voice at 11 p.m. is ridiculous. I don't like getting called that late, and you can't tell a machine to go to hell (well, you can, but your point is lost). I thought someone had DIED. And to boot, I wont be home when they want to deliver it. SO... luckily, I'm not ready for it, and I will battle with them today to arrange re-delivery.
Imagine... If i had hired someone to do this for me, they would have to deal with all this crap. BUT it would cost me 4x as much, and all at once, and then I'd have to rely on them to get it RIGHT, and not let the cat out of the house. I'll take the 11 pm automated phone calls, I think...
Sunday, June 04, 2006
i'm not dead...and other things
The tournament didn't kill me. I have one giant bruise, but thats nothing. And we won, so it was a good day. And I don't have to play again, I don't think...
*********
Its funny how the simple idea of NOT moving every 20 months or so will change a person. Suddenly, local politics are no longer 'not my problem, because I wont be here'. I CARE who represents me (why? I dunno. I think democracy is still largely a myth designed to keep all of us little people quiet...). That, and I don't vote in Texas; voting in Texas was about as exciting as littering- I threw my vote away. But I voted anyway. If I can give up my career so my spouse can defend me so called democracy (i have a big problem with THAT concept- how invading a sovereign nation amounts to defending democracy, I'll never know, but thats not the point here), I might as well take 45 minutes to wait in line to throw my vote away. But now, living here, its not a foregone conclusion that logic looses. There's a chance that sanity could prevail. So I'm paying a little closer attention. And it feels good. Like I'll have the right to complain when issues don't work out the way I had hoped they would.
I heard recently that something like 3 times as many people voted for the latest American Idol than voted for the latest presidential election. Maybe if we ran elections like American Idol, we'd have a representative government? I can't say for sure, having never been tortured by watching American Idol.... but it sounds good on the surface.
Another way that the idea of not moving across the country in a matter of months has changed me is on the home improvement front: suddenly, the idea of stretching the budget isn't a BAD idea. What I WANT (as opposed to resale value) suddenly carries weight. I can choose paint colors, and tile, and flooring, and appliances based on what I want, not on resale value. Instead of trying to create a box-store image of 'perfect', i can choose what I want, take a 'chance' (in this context, it sounds so melodramatic. but choosing colors is HARD. I'll have to like this stuff for YEARS). I can let myself be expressed (imagine this: a whole house full of personal expression that I am afraid to share with anyone.... nothing says 'hermit' like a remodelled house that no one is allowed to visit :) ). Also, I can NOT do a project, and save it until next year, or the year after... theres a lot less pressure.
These are just 2 examples. Overall, I feel very consciously that I am rebuiling my life, rebuilding me, piece by piece. Its a unique chance, not one that everyone gets, and not one that comes along often. Its terrifying, and liberating- more of the latter than the former. I'm thrilled. Imagine, getting that clean slate to start over with- how would you build yourself? What would you do? And how would you react to the idea of any future unhapiness you may experience could be related directly back to the decisions you make while the sky is the limit. Its idyllic, but scary at the same time.
*********
Its funny how the simple idea of NOT moving every 20 months or so will change a person. Suddenly, local politics are no longer 'not my problem, because I wont be here'. I CARE who represents me (why? I dunno. I think democracy is still largely a myth designed to keep all of us little people quiet...). That, and I don't vote in Texas; voting in Texas was about as exciting as littering- I threw my vote away. But I voted anyway. If I can give up my career so my spouse can defend me so called democracy (i have a big problem with THAT concept- how invading a sovereign nation amounts to defending democracy, I'll never know, but thats not the point here), I might as well take 45 minutes to wait in line to throw my vote away. But now, living here, its not a foregone conclusion that logic looses. There's a chance that sanity could prevail. So I'm paying a little closer attention. And it feels good. Like I'll have the right to complain when issues don't work out the way I had hoped they would.
I heard recently that something like 3 times as many people voted for the latest American Idol than voted for the latest presidential election. Maybe if we ran elections like American Idol, we'd have a representative government? I can't say for sure, having never been tortured by watching American Idol.... but it sounds good on the surface.
Another way that the idea of not moving across the country in a matter of months has changed me is on the home improvement front: suddenly, the idea of stretching the budget isn't a BAD idea. What I WANT (as opposed to resale value) suddenly carries weight. I can choose paint colors, and tile, and flooring, and appliances based on what I want, not on resale value. Instead of trying to create a box-store image of 'perfect', i can choose what I want, take a 'chance' (in this context, it sounds so melodramatic. but choosing colors is HARD. I'll have to like this stuff for YEARS). I can let myself be expressed (imagine this: a whole house full of personal expression that I am afraid to share with anyone.... nothing says 'hermit' like a remodelled house that no one is allowed to visit :) ). Also, I can NOT do a project, and save it until next year, or the year after... theres a lot less pressure.
These are just 2 examples. Overall, I feel very consciously that I am rebuiling my life, rebuilding me, piece by piece. Its a unique chance, not one that everyone gets, and not one that comes along often. Its terrifying, and liberating- more of the latter than the former. I'm thrilled. Imagine, getting that clean slate to start over with- how would you build yourself? What would you do? And how would you react to the idea of any future unhapiness you may experience could be related directly back to the decisions you make while the sky is the limit. Its idyllic, but scary at the same time.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
what kind of brain do you have?
I'm either this:
Although i'm not good at connecting people (i don't LIKE people). everything else seems to fit.
Or this:
Actually, I think I am a mix of the two, and the second one is more heavily weighted.
| Your Brain's Pattern |
 |
Or this:
| Your Brain's Pattern |
 Your mind is a creative hotbed of artistic talent. You're always making pictures in your mind, especially when you're bored. You are easily inspired to think colorful, interesting thoughts. And although it may be hard to express these thoughts, it won't always be. |
Actually, I think I am a mix of the two, and the second one is more heavily weighted.
the tournament
Today is the big day. I've been dreading and hoping for this day for about 2 weeks. Dread: it might kill me. Hope: I get to play soccer (I like soccer- played in college, and I don't often get the opportunity).
Let me back track... my hubby 'ki" (technically, we're both 'ki' - otherwise known as k2- but here I am known as I, because its mine, all mine...) is in the military. I'm not saying which branch, and I'm not giving rank. He's getting out soon, so its a mute (moot? which is it?) point anyway. At any rate, he's in the military and he's having a group vs. group soccer tournament this afternoon.
In the military, or in some parts of it, you have group PT (physical training, usually some aerobic activity) on a weekly basis (somethimes more often, sometimes not at all). Historically, I've always gone, unless I was working - some structure is good, and being forced to get some exercise isn't a bad thing.
This spring the aerobic activity has turned visciously competetive. I've been sent to the ER once (got hit point blank by a disc directly in the nose and the bleeding would.not.stop.) and should have gone a second time (head injury from being decked by the Lt. Col - thanks, man). I have a permanent lump of scar tissue on the inside of my right leg, above the ankle, on the bone. it was swollen and bruised for weeks (it still hurts, and i think this happened in early March). I've had a cramp in my calf since late March, which I am blaming on PT as well, because thats when it first showed up.
So, this afternoon, is the tournament. I've been invited to play (kind of amazing since I am a lowly spouse, and a girl to boot- its like being a 2nd class citizen or a leper). Its 85 degrees, hazy, and humid. I'm seriously hoping for a major T-storm to cancel it, because otherwise, I'm afraid this will kill me, or maim me enough so that I can't function properly for a while. But for some reason, my pride wont let me NOT go. damn that pride. Lets pray for some severe weather to get me out of this mess.
Let me back track... my hubby 'ki" (technically, we're both 'ki' - otherwise known as k2- but here I am known as I, because its mine, all mine...) is in the military. I'm not saying which branch, and I'm not giving rank. He's getting out soon, so its a mute (moot? which is it?) point anyway. At any rate, he's in the military and he's having a group vs. group soccer tournament this afternoon.
In the military, or in some parts of it, you have group PT (physical training, usually some aerobic activity) on a weekly basis (somethimes more often, sometimes not at all). Historically, I've always gone, unless I was working - some structure is good, and being forced to get some exercise isn't a bad thing.
This spring the aerobic activity has turned visciously competetive. I've been sent to the ER once (got hit point blank by a disc directly in the nose and the bleeding would.not.stop.) and should have gone a second time (head injury from being decked by the Lt. Col - thanks, man). I have a permanent lump of scar tissue on the inside of my right leg, above the ankle, on the bone. it was swollen and bruised for weeks (it still hurts, and i think this happened in early March). I've had a cramp in my calf since late March, which I am blaming on PT as well, because thats when it first showed up.
So, this afternoon, is the tournament. I've been invited to play (kind of amazing since I am a lowly spouse, and a girl to boot- its like being a 2nd class citizen or a leper). Its 85 degrees, hazy, and humid. I'm seriously hoping for a major T-storm to cancel it, because otherwise, I'm afraid this will kill me, or maim me enough so that I can't function properly for a while. But for some reason, my pride wont let me NOT go. damn that pride. Lets pray for some severe weather to get me out of this mess.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
The Desert Changes a Person
Something about the vastness, the great emptiness, the abscence of human sound other than your own breath- it exposes and magnifies any cracks in your soul.
There is something about watching the clouds roll in, the dust storm approach through the mountain pass miles away, and yet being powerless to do anything but watch it approach. The millions of pin pricks impaling the skin on the back of your neck as you turn to shield your face.
The strong scent of rain, of ozone- so much more overpowering than back east- drenching the dry sandiness of your insides, where your heart should be, washing away the bitterness and regret, eroding away the hardened hatred along the cracks until small hollows form and eventually become man-sized caves where the pain used to be.
The desert changes a person.
So many things larger than you- you, small, insignificant, irrelevant to the searing heat, the bitter cold, the unrelentless wind.
Life is hard. Small problems dissappear through necessity. Day to day stress melt away in lieu of calculating the water left in the camelback, and not loosing the trail in the stark but deadly beauty. The desert tortoise, the horned lizard, the ravens- all survive just fine. The evidence is in the tracks.
"I coud die out here, and no one would know- not in time to save me, not before my bones are picked clean. They wouldn't know where to look. " Aloneness, physical, and emotional, magnified. "A broken ankle, a slip, a fall, a knock on the head, a snake bite. It's all over, so suddenly." No man is an island, but I live in a vaccuum, both real and imagined.
The rusted out old chevy sedan, half burried in rocks rounded by years of water. There is no river here, not now- but once, once, this car was parked, or was driven across this valley, or perhaps a higher valley- when the storm clouds gathered over the pass. No glass, no head lights, no upholstery; boulders on the roof, cobbles filling the spaces where feet and legs and pocket books once resided. Nothing but silence (the deafening noise ringing in my ears) and the clatter of cobbles as the dog explores this former trap, sticking her head out of the empty rear windshield. The panting and scramble of paws for a food hold.
Death Valley.
This is the Mojave I know.
The desert changes a person.
March; mid-spring. 70s at lower elevations, but up in the pass, it was cold, windy; 45 and spitting a swirling snow. We pass the abandoned mine shaft, equipment left to rust and lose their features in the sun. The long dirt road, hours from the last paved road, after so many turns I can't remember. We passed a ranch with curious steer. A whale, in the middle of the desert, in the middle of nowhere, painted up high on the valley wall.
More abandoned mines than I can count lie haphazardly throughout the hillsides- some recently shut down (steel, modern equpiment left to rust), others old, with rotting wood timbers, and shacks that pass daylight. Slowly collecting swirling snowflakes where the wind eddies- they sit still for a few seconds before dissapearing without leaving a wet spot. Its hard to ignore the snese of decades passing before your eyes.
This is the Mojave I know.
The desert changes a person.
There is something about watching the clouds roll in, the dust storm approach through the mountain pass miles away, and yet being powerless to do anything but watch it approach. The millions of pin pricks impaling the skin on the back of your neck as you turn to shield your face.
The strong scent of rain, of ozone- so much more overpowering than back east- drenching the dry sandiness of your insides, where your heart should be, washing away the bitterness and regret, eroding away the hardened hatred along the cracks until small hollows form and eventually become man-sized caves where the pain used to be.
The desert changes a person.
So many things larger than you- you, small, insignificant, irrelevant to the searing heat, the bitter cold, the unrelentless wind.
Life is hard. Small problems dissappear through necessity. Day to day stress melt away in lieu of calculating the water left in the camelback, and not loosing the trail in the stark but deadly beauty. The desert tortoise, the horned lizard, the ravens- all survive just fine. The evidence is in the tracks.
"I coud die out here, and no one would know- not in time to save me, not before my bones are picked clean. They wouldn't know where to look. " Aloneness, physical, and emotional, magnified. "A broken ankle, a slip, a fall, a knock on the head, a snake bite. It's all over, so suddenly." No man is an island, but I live in a vaccuum, both real and imagined.
The rusted out old chevy sedan, half burried in rocks rounded by years of water. There is no river here, not now- but once, once, this car was parked, or was driven across this valley, or perhaps a higher valley- when the storm clouds gathered over the pass. No glass, no head lights, no upholstery; boulders on the roof, cobbles filling the spaces where feet and legs and pocket books once resided. Nothing but silence (the deafening noise ringing in my ears) and the clatter of cobbles as the dog explores this former trap, sticking her head out of the empty rear windshield. The panting and scramble of paws for a food hold.
Death Valley.
This is the Mojave I know.
The desert changes a person.
March; mid-spring. 70s at lower elevations, but up in the pass, it was cold, windy; 45 and spitting a swirling snow. We pass the abandoned mine shaft, equipment left to rust and lose their features in the sun. The long dirt road, hours from the last paved road, after so many turns I can't remember. We passed a ranch with curious steer. A whale, in the middle of the desert, in the middle of nowhere, painted up high on the valley wall.
More abandoned mines than I can count lie haphazardly throughout the hillsides- some recently shut down (steel, modern equpiment left to rust), others old, with rotting wood timbers, and shacks that pass daylight. Slowly collecting swirling snowflakes where the wind eddies- they sit still for a few seconds before dissapearing without leaving a wet spot. Its hard to ignore the snese of decades passing before your eyes.
This is the Mojave I know.
The desert changes a person.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
ice cream
ice cream, ice cream, ice cream. and not the store bought kind that comes in a tub or a box (yay! freezer burn!). Its a cultural thing around here.
Upside: you can find all these great family owned ice cream stands within a half-hour of my house. Its freshly made, there are more flavors than you can really choose from (too many choices), and its so smooth and creamy. and cheap.
Downside: who gets to go get ice cream from an ice cream stand by themselves? Its right up there with going to a playground without a kid. you HAVE to bring someone with you to get ice cream. going alone is just not done.
Its funny. Once you leave New England, for the most part, there are no great ice cream stands. The best you can do is a Dairy Queen, or a Stewarts (in new york). McDonald's soft serve. yuck. If you're lucky, you might find a Marble Slab- but thats way over priced, and their ice cream has a LOT of those ice crystals in it that eventually rub your tongue raw. There are very seldom any mom & pop ice cream stands. Its very sad.
Maybe there are some in Wisconsin - they have a lot of cows, so maybe they have ice cream stands too.
One of those homesickness things that will bring me to my knees is a lack of quality ice cream.
Upside: you can find all these great family owned ice cream stands within a half-hour of my house. Its freshly made, there are more flavors than you can really choose from (too many choices), and its so smooth and creamy. and cheap.
Downside: who gets to go get ice cream from an ice cream stand by themselves? Its right up there with going to a playground without a kid. you HAVE to bring someone with you to get ice cream. going alone is just not done.
Its funny. Once you leave New England, for the most part, there are no great ice cream stands. The best you can do is a Dairy Queen, or a Stewarts (in new york). McDonald's soft serve. yuck. If you're lucky, you might find a Marble Slab- but thats way over priced, and their ice cream has a LOT of those ice crystals in it that eventually rub your tongue raw. There are very seldom any mom & pop ice cream stands. Its very sad.
Maybe there are some in Wisconsin - they have a lot of cows, so maybe they have ice cream stands too.
One of those homesickness things that will bring me to my knees is a lack of quality ice cream.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Beyond Late - Maybe I'm Early
So here I am. A little late, as usual. No- really late. I jumped off the 'current culture' bandwagon BEFORE blogs were mainstream, so now that I'm waking up again, maybe I'll climb back on the wagon. I blinked, and then suddenly *everyone* is discussing their blog. I feel left out.
Why would I bother? I'm bored. good enough for me.
I've moved around a lot. In the past 4 years or so, I haven't stayed in any one place longer than 12 months- with an interesting mix of permanent and temporary moves thrown in. I'm not saying why- if you know me, you'll know why. The big picture is that this is all changing, and HOPEFULLY the upheavel is in its death throws. I'm trying to glue life together again, one.last.time.
Places I've lived in 3.5 years: South-central Texas (3 months + 3 months + 12 months), The Mississippi Gulf Coast (3 months: Pre-Katrina), Nevada (6 months), Virginia (1 month, doesn't really count, but I'll throw it in for good measure), Alabama (1 month- see Virginia), Southern New England (12 months +.....) . That about sums up my life as of late. I'm really tired. Bone tired and weary. I feel old, worn out, exhausted. My car does too. I've calculated the mileage from the road trips in the past year alone: 12,000 miles. Really, thats since last September. And it doesn't include day to day driving, as well as weekend fun trips (which have been few).
Why bother listing? To explain the title, of course. A Sense of Place. Thats what I need. A Sense of Place. Everytime I start to get that within my grasp, I suddenly spirit myself off (whether its my idea or not is another question). But here I am, thinking I'm finally going to get stuck here (stuck being good). Home is such a mythical concept - but if I can get a sense of place, I might just get my head screwed on right.
What is a sense of place? knowing without having to see for yourself anymore how it smells in the rain, how it sounds in the fog, how crappy the drivers tend to be, what the local transit system (if any) is called, what's in season for produce throughout the year, where the best sunset spots are, where the good bars are with 40+ micro-brews on tap, what neighborhoods to avoid, which weatherman tends to be WAY off, etc.... the list goes on. and on. the old question of what makes home home. Its really important. to me, at least, and damnit, this is mine.
That being said, I wonder if I'll ever mention it again. It seemed to be a good title. But my hindsight is WAY better than my foresight, so we'll see.
Why would I bother? I'm bored. good enough for me.
I've moved around a lot. In the past 4 years or so, I haven't stayed in any one place longer than 12 months- with an interesting mix of permanent and temporary moves thrown in. I'm not saying why- if you know me, you'll know why. The big picture is that this is all changing, and HOPEFULLY the upheavel is in its death throws. I'm trying to glue life together again, one.last.time.
Places I've lived in 3.5 years: South-central Texas (3 months + 3 months + 12 months), The Mississippi Gulf Coast (3 months: Pre-Katrina), Nevada (6 months), Virginia (1 month, doesn't really count, but I'll throw it in for good measure), Alabama (1 month- see Virginia), Southern New England (12 months +.....) . That about sums up my life as of late. I'm really tired. Bone tired and weary. I feel old, worn out, exhausted. My car does too. I've calculated the mileage from the road trips in the past year alone: 12,000 miles. Really, thats since last September. And it doesn't include day to day driving, as well as weekend fun trips (which have been few).
Why bother listing? To explain the title, of course. A Sense of Place. Thats what I need. A Sense of Place. Everytime I start to get that within my grasp, I suddenly spirit myself off (whether its my idea or not is another question). But here I am, thinking I'm finally going to get stuck here (stuck being good). Home is such a mythical concept - but if I can get a sense of place, I might just get my head screwed on right.
What is a sense of place? knowing without having to see for yourself anymore how it smells in the rain, how it sounds in the fog, how crappy the drivers tend to be, what the local transit system (if any) is called, what's in season for produce throughout the year, where the best sunset spots are, where the good bars are with 40+ micro-brews on tap, what neighborhoods to avoid, which weatherman tends to be WAY off, etc.... the list goes on. and on. the old question of what makes home home. Its really important. to me, at least, and damnit, this is mine.
That being said, I wonder if I'll ever mention it again. It seemed to be a good title. But my hindsight is WAY better than my foresight, so we'll see.
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