The Adventures of Amos and friends

Apple Walnut Bourbon Banana Bread

2012-02-10T22:56:00.000-07:00

I went see Noam Chomsky speak this past week.

Or at least that was the intention. The famed Chomsky was giving a free talk at the University of Arizona, Tucson and my roommate and I decided that seeing him was worth the approximately four hour drive there.

There are all sorts of things that effect how things happen. In this case our adventure plans included giving a ride to the talk to a pair of young men with strong political views, who would help pay for gas for the journey. Our original time estimates had been made before calculating the picking up of the pair, but we had calculated a fair buffer in arriving. Then I, who am already a directionally challenged person, made the error of listening to one of these passengers' suggestion of a 'shorter' alternate route. We got royally lost before finally finding our way back to the path forward.

We made it to the University before the talk began. The two young men, jumped from the car to grab a spot in line, while my roommate and I parked the car. When we walked to the line, it wound around the block and then curved back into the other direction. We found our spot at the end, but we did not spot our passengers. As the line moved steadily forward, we heard from the two fellows. They had bluffed their way into the front of the line and had made it into the theater. My roommate and I decided to take the ethical route and keep our spot in line. We were directed to an overflow room, and then they shut the door about 7 people before we would have entered, citing no more room.

Life is full of hope and plans, but I long ago decided that you can't fret when things don't go your way. So while I went to see Noam Chomsky speak, instead my roommate and I walked around Tucson and had a lovely adventure. We talked to interesting people as we waited in line, we saw beautiful art, spent time together catching up and being happy to experience life. Because that was what we were doing. You can make all the plans you want, the universe will just laugh. So we decided to laugh along with it.

Eventually the Chomsky finished speaking, and the boys found us and we began the four hour drive back home. After all my roommate and I both had work the next day.

This is not a food Blog.

Granted I've written about my cooking adventures on occasion, sharing recipes is not why I write here.
There are many things in the world we can not control. Some things we can control, the decision to talk about my life and experiences is one thing I can control. Baking is another. We all like to have control of our life and the things that happen to us, or at least the illusion of that fact. But in the end it is better to be flexible, adaptable, to roll with the punches and to remember not to take it all too seriously.

To that idea I took a standard recipe and played around with what I had available. Everyone seems to enjoy it, so I thought I would share it. Cause we all have days when we don't get what we want, and those days we deserve to treat ourselves to some thing wonderful. Maybe you didn't get what you wanted because you really needed to eat Apple Walnut Bourbon Banana Bread instead.

yum.

Apple Walnut Banana Bread

Preheat Oven to 350 Degrees F. Grease a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan.

Whisk together:

1 ½ cups all-purpose flour

1 ½ teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

½ tablespoon cinnamon

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

Beat in a large bowl until creamy:

2/3 cup sugar

6 tablespoons (¾ stick) butter or margarine,softened

1 large splash of lemon juice or ¾ teaspoon grated lemon zest

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 tablespoon Bourbon (Or More if it was a really bad or good day)

Beat in:

2 large eggs, beaten

2 bananas

Add the dry ingredients in about 3 parts, beating untilsmooth after each addition. Fold in:

1 apple pealed and chopped in to chunks (splash with Bourbon to keep from turning brown)

1 cup walnuts

I went even further and soaked these apples in Bourbon for 24 hours

Mostly because I was making this.

If desired even more decadent experience:

About ½apple in pealed & cored in slices

¼ cupwalnuts

About ½ cupsugar

1 teaspooncinnamon

A splash bourbon (optional)

Coat apples and walnuts in cinnamon sugar mix then spreadevenly on the bottom of the greased pan. Scrape the batter into the pan on topof apple walnut mixture. Or reverse and put batter in greased pan and place apple mixture on top. Place a baking sheet under pan in case of spillover. Bakethe bread about 1 hour, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes outclean. Let cool.

Eat and feel better about things not going your way. And remember sometimes we don't get what we thought we wanted, but we usually find what we need. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about. Cause this blog entry totally did not turn out to be what I thought it was going to be about, but it is a lot easier to be zen about these things with a nice warm hunk of this bread in your hand.

Love Your Neighbor as Yourself...

2011-12-13T15:20:00.000-07:00

I started my day this morning by clicking on a link for a blog that a friend had posted on facebook. This led me to an astoundingly beautiful cry for each of us to love everyone. Maybe you have already stumbled upon this blog entry as it is well written, popular and has an eye catching title: I'm Christian, unless you're Gay. Please I entreat you to read it... all of it, all 3 pages and then look at some of the followup posts where he posts some of the responses he got.

It made me cry, a lot.

I read a bunch of other posts by him too. They also made me cry.

I cried a lot this morning. As I was reading these words I struggled to define what it was that was affecting me so strongly. The author was advocating thoughts that I myself already believe in, so why should I be so struck by his words. I think maybe some of it is related to what I've had on my mind recently. Like I wrote in November my thoughts have been focused on the struggles of those trying to live in this country without success. Specifically with the anger that I feel at the misdirected blame being laid at these people's feet for their failure to make it without help.

Maybe it is just that he put in to words what has been in my heart for a long time. "Love your neighbor as yourself." There are two simple truths in that statement. 1. Love the people around you, treat them as you wish to be treated. Not hate, tolerate, or ignore your neighbor... love them and all that love entails. And 2. In order to be able to enact part one you must first LOVE YOURSELF. Simple right?

But all of us in our truest knowledge of self know it isn't simple. All of us have the moments when we hate ourselves. My butt is too big, my skin too pimply, I'm too fat, too skinny, my nose is funny shaped. I am dumb, a ditz, clumsy, a smart ass, a clown, not smart enough, not popular enough. It is human nature to seek approval of those we care about, heck to seek approval from people we don't even know.

I was bullied as a kid and to be honest about that fact I blocked a lot of it out of my memory. But there are a few things that remain, emotional scars that I don't talk about, a knowledge about how bullies come from being hurt by others first, and the understanding that I am the person I am today both because of the bullying and because of a supportive family that always made sure that I knew that I was loved, worthy of that love, and that nothing, NOTHING could change that fact.

I am a lucky person for having that knowledge. However, I know I still seek approval from those around me in what I do, and I feel hurt when I don't get that pat on the back that says good job. I won't admit it. Ask me to my face and I'll laugh it off. That was always my defense to the bullying, ignore the taunts laugh it off. Try to make them laugh, so that they are not laughing at me but with me, even if I am still the butt of the joke, at least I was the one making the joke. It sounds sad, but it worked. I cracked enough jokes at my own expense that they didn't have anything to tease me about. I was too "OK" with myself for their teasing to have the effect that they wanted. Eventually I learned how to ignore the nasty comments without having to throw myself under the bus. It was about this time that I had gained the understanding that most bullies were the bullied and had worked on taking the other role the same way I had used myself at a barrier to being hurt. If you are doing the hurting, then it is harder for others to hurt you.

It is knowledge that surprisingly has gained me friends. By ignoring the hateful words that came from the mouths of bullies and still being kind to them, I have gained friendships. I won't claim to have saved them, or changed their ways, because often the damage that had lead them to their angry ways was deeper then my simple kindness could heal, though I hope in someway that I helped them on that path to healing. Which brings me full circle to what I was hoping that maybe I might succeed in getting across, a point.

Love EVERYONE, because EVERYONE deserves to be loved. That includes yourself. Start there. Today say to yourself "I am beautiful, wonderful, smart, funny, and worthy of love, and gosh darn it, I love myself." Cheesy I know, but do me a favor and say it anyway. Out Loud. Again Louder! Once more, Shout It to the sky! Now find someone else, your wife, husband, lover, your friend, your co-worker, the person checking out your groceries, the person sitting next to you on the bus, that person that you always see alone, that person whose gaze you avoid on the corner. Tell them. Tell them that they are beautiful, wonderful, smart, have a great smile, are funny, and are worthy of love. Go on, tell them. And if you feel up to it, give them a hug, shake their hand, look them in their eyes and smile.

If it makes you uncomfortable, think about this from the other side, wouldn't YOU like someone to come up and say this to you?

Oh yeah and if I haven't mentioned it lately, I think that YOU are Beautiful, Wonderful, Smart, Wise, Funny and above all Worthy of Love. I Love You.

Thank you for letting me take up a little of your day.

Loss of a Hero

2011-11-22T22:21:00.001-07:00

I should be writing my NaNoWriMo novel right now.

I have been behind pretty much all month, on my worst day I was about 8,000 words behind, mostly ranged between 4,000 to 2,000 words behind. For the first time since the beginning of the month I finally caught up to where I should approximately be this past weekend. I did this by marathon writing sessions, good friends, and Classical Russian Music. And then the next day I promptly fell behind once more, and here I am instead of working on my novel writing a blog entry instead.

But today Anne McCaffrey died.

It is strange how our life is affected by people we never meet. Anne McCaffrey was a talented and prolific Science Fiction author, known best for her Dragonriders of Pern series. She won the Hugo Award and was the first woman to do so. She also won the Nebula Award and was once again the smasher of glass ceilings and was the first woman to do so. Her affected on my life began at a young age.

I was a voracious reader as a child. I read above my grade level and would rip through new books within a few days. Then I would come back and reread them till all the characters became wonderful friends to be trusted to always be there for me. The Young Adult section at the Library had not had the Renaissance that we are seeing today (thanks to Harry Potter & J.K. Rowling). The area was small and I tore through the collection till I had read pretty much all of the books in it and several of them multiple times. One day frustrated by my inability to find anything that I had not already read I asked my librarian for a suggestion. The book she recommended was Dragonsong by Anne McCaffrey. It was the first of a trilogy that took place in the world of Pern. The best part was the Librarian walking me from the Young Adult section to the Science Fiction Shelves and adult books. Suddenly I had a lot more options of things to read.

the cover that I grew up with

The Harper Hall Trilogy (Dragonsong, Dragonsinger, Dragon Drums) hooked me in right away and I began reading all the Pern books that I could find, then all the Anne McCaffrey books I could find. I hold Anne responsible for my large vocabulary. She was a woman who knew words and knew how to use them. She never wrote down to her audience and I learned quickly to understand from context clues and to keep a dictionary handy so that I could understand what the words I did not recognized meant. I have a very clear memory of sitting by my father waiting for something to begin with an Anne McCaffrey book in my hands. My father kept picking out words and asking me to define them as a game to pass the time and to practice for the Vocabulary section of the SAT test.

When I left for college for the first time, Anne McCaffrey once again came and created a change in my life. I had always been a shy child, never with many friends, and certainly not good to talking to people I didn't know. Making friends wasn't really a skill I had mastered yet in my life. This was a time in the world where the internet was just really starting to be used regularly. There were just starting to be non-dialup modems and connections. When I at first went to college I did not own a computer at all, yet most professors wanted homework and essays to be typed. Aided by the fact I had an evil roommate, I ended up spending a great deal of time on the Dorm Computer. It was there why taking a break from Homework that I for some reason decided to look up Anne McCaffrey online.

This was how I found Anne's Kitchen Table, a chat room on her website just for her fans. For the first time I found people who were as big of nerds as I was about the world of Pern and it's amazing dragonriders. The other amazing thing about the Kitchen Table was the fact that Anne herself would get online and join the chat. She would answer questions, give insights, or talk about her animals. Best of all she would encourage those who asked her about the art of writing.

At the time I had never, ever really considered that I might attempt to be an author. To me that was a golden unattainable profession, authors weren't real people, they were like gods to be worshiped for their creations, or dead and unreachable. Yet here was not only an author, but my favorite one talking about stubbing her toe and other such mundane things. She also had many wise words for aspiring authors, and while at the time I did not count myself among them I drank them in all the same.

I do remember asking her once about how she decided to be an author. I wish I could remember her exact words. But I do remember the jist behind them, which was this: She liked reading, but thought she could do better then the pulps that she was reading so gave it a try. Essentially she put forth the effort.

It was after spending time at the Kitchen Table chatroom that I was recruited to join an online roleplaying game based on Anne's world of Pern. It was essentially Fan Fiction only due to Anne's wishes we had to create our own characters in order to be allowed to play in her world. Back and forth I would exchange writings and have our characters interact. Slowly I gained confidence and skill and soon my parts grew in length and quality. The practice writing the fiction in turn aided my ability in writing papers for classes. I continued with this writing game for many years.

Time and change is inevitable, eventual the group that I was apart of fell apart and people stopped writing, myself included. Life moved on. I had learned the skill of making friends and no longer felt the need to make friends with the aid of a computer. When my friend (once again a Librarian) changed my life again by asking me to try attempting NaNoWriMo with her. I don't think I would have ever attempted it without the years of practice with the roleplaying game, yet 7 years later here I am writing away. Dreaming that one day my words and characters may be remembered like Anne McCaffrey's.

Today is a sad day, but one of the amazing thing about creating is that in many ways Anne will always exist. For whenever I find myself missing her, I can simply pick up one of her books and hear her words once more.

In Anne's Own words from Dragonsong:

The tears I feel today
I’ll wait to shed tomorrow.
Though I’ll not sleep this night
Nor find surcease from sorrow.
My eyes must keep their sight:
I dare not be tear-blinded.
I must be free to talk
Not choked with grief, clear-minded.
My mouth cannot betray
The anguish that I know.
Yes, I’ll keep my tears till later:
But my grief will never go.

Thank You Annie for being an inspiration to me all my days.

Ciao

Angry Social Commentary

2011-11-05T11:21:00.000-07:00

Anyone who has ever talked to me probably knows that November is my Christmas. Not in the I'm celebrating the birth of a human designated deity at not the actual anniversary of the event, but to keep the populace from practicing an older religious tradition Christmas. No, when I say that November is my Christmas I mean that I look forward to it pretty much all year, am grateful when it's over, and leave it feeling like I've gained a few things (pounds, gifts, fruitcakes). Welcome to the joy and wonder of National Novel Writing Month (www.nanowrimo.org) where the goal is to write 50,000 words in the 30 days of November.

I won't go to much into the actual event and my history in participating in it. If you don't already know it, you can read about in my post from last year 'Chasing the Tiger's Tale' I pretty much covered everything in there.

Almost every year I start planning for NaNoWriMo in October (kind of like they start playing Christmas music on the first of November). I start thinking of plots and characters, start working on research. Get myself really pumped up to tell a story, then more often then not I throw all my work out the window and start with something I think of a few days before the start of the event. This has definitely been one of those years.

My original plan was to tell the story of Hagar, Handmaiden to Sarah, Concubine to Abraham, Mother to Ishmael. Her name literally translates to stranger from Hebrew, and though her actual story in the Torah (old testament) is very short, there seemed to be a greater story to be told. And there is, and perhaps one day I will write it, but as the first of the month crept up I found myself loosing enthusiasm for telling that story now.

So I decided to Pants it. (If you don't know the NaNo lingo Pantsing it, or Pantsers are those writers who chose to not plan for their novels and instead see where the wind will take them, this of course versus the Planners who obviously plan and plot ahead what they are writing this month.) Pantsing while exciting hasn't always lead to the best success for me in the pants so I'm a little more nervous this year, which honestly is a little refreshing. I'm going on 7 years now, I've won the past 3, and the last 2 came pretty easily, last year I finished nearly a week before the end of the month. It is a good reminder to myself that what I'm doing here is an amazing accomplishment, an amazing challenge.

So the day before the start of the month, I came up with a new idea. Here it is:
Life has not gone as Hank Howitz imagined, once upon a time he believed in the American dream of a small family and a white picket fence around a modest home. That is until he was downsized from his job after almost five years working there. His unemployment run out and his savings run dry and debt mounting, even with a job flipping burgers Hank can't seem to make ends meet. His girlfriend left him, his friends busy with their own lives, even his Mom has a new boyfriend who doesn't want Hank around. Forget about the modest home, at this point Hank dreams of a warm bed.

But when Hank accidentally frees an ancient Russian wizard from a curse he may get the job opportunity of a lifetime.

I don't know where it is going but that is the idea behind it.

I will admit to being inspired by what is occurring in our country right now, the Occupy Wall Street Movement, and the high number of people who are living below the poverty level and being blamed for it like they were not trying hard enough. It is also inspired by my experiences and that of friends around me. I spent a year unemployed, and before that I worked a menial job as a housekeeper in a fancy hotel. I filled out hundreds of applications, barely got any interviews and when I did was often told I was overqualified. I managed to save a lot of money as a housekeeper, but I was alone with no one else to support and very minimal bills. I worked so much that I didn't have anytime to spend money, but I watched the people around me struggle to support families, sometimes with a spouse working as well, and still living below the poverty level. One friend had paycheck loans, each week she would go to one loan place pay some of her loan off, get another loan then drive to the second place and pay off that loan. When she was done she would have enough money to pay her rent and bills and buy a little food for her family and then less than 100 dollars to spare for anything else her family might need, be it gas or medicine or clothes. Of my friends from college, some have found success in their fields, but many were unable to find jobs so settled on any place that would hire them, or decided what they really needed was to go back to school and get either master degrees or a second degree in another field.

I will admit to something else, as of right now I am behind on my word count, I am about 4,000 words below where I should be to be on track and finish in time. I know I will catch up I have faith in myself and the power of 5,000 word days (they happen!), but I am also aware of why I am behind.

I am behind because what I'm writing about makes me angry, furious even. I am angry for myself and my struggle to find employment and the SHAME that went with that search. The feeling that people thought I was lazy or not trying hard enough; the applying to jobs that I knew I would be miserable at, that as a socially responsible person I wanted to avoid shopping at here I was offering myself up a cheap labor where I knew I was likely to be mistreated. (Not to mention shopping there because they were the cheapest places in town.) That horrible feeling of needing to ask for help. Knowing at least I was lucky enough to have people to ask for help.

It is not just myself that I am angry for. I am also angry for every one of my friends who has had to throw away their dreams for now to make ends meet. For every woman I worked with at the hotel, who were treated like crap and told they had to work overtime or they wouldn't have a job at all. I am angry at the people who are lucky enough to have jobs who look at those without and BLAME them for that lack. I am angry at the politicians, who either ignore these problems or try to demonize the people who need help.

I am angry because I have my dream job, and while I don't ever expect to get rich on it, I would like to be able to survive on it.

All of this anger is going into this year's NaNo attempt, but unless you are ranting it is hard to translate emotion into words. So that is why I am behind.

My Hero Pete Seeger Marching for Occupy Wall Street

If anyone is will to share their struggles with me, I'd be thankful for more inspiration, everything will be fictionalized that I might use.

Mud and Miracles

2011-10-09T22:40:00.000-07:00

Life hands us the opportunity for many adventures, recently it seemed my life had settled down and the adventures of the last few years seemed to slow to a stop. Not to say I wasn't having a good and happy time of it, but the unknown seemed to becoming known, the conquering of fears melting into smaller and smaller concerns to be worried about. Not a bad thing to say, but not as thrilling or challenging. After the last few years of traveling across the country, finding my place (at least for now) in the world, getting my dream job, struggling with money, exploring new places and making new friends, life seemed to be getting a little dull.

But life is what we make it, so when a chance to participate in the Black Footed Ferret Spotlighting Project (BFFS) came up I signed up enthusiastically. Black Footed Ferrets are highly endangered, one of the most endangered species in North America. At one time they were thought to be extinct, then a single colony was found in Wyoming of about 100 animals, but when disaster struck and disease knocked out almost the entire colony Biologists stepped in to help. With only 18 animals left they captured them to use in a captive breeding similar to the California Condor Project, where they would breed up the species in captivity with plans to release the animals back into their natural habitats when population numbers seemed sustainable. Jump to today, the BBFS has 19 reintroduction sites with approximately 1,000 individuals living in the wild. Still too small a population to be removed from the endangered species list but a long way away from 18 original animals left.

Spotlighting in Arizona, takes us up to ________, (edit: to prevent the curious from bothering the colony, the locations have been removed.) a small town on the Historic Route 66, then about 20 miles from the town proper lies _____________, home of a reintroduced Black Footed Ferret population. The ferrets are nocturnal, which means the study takes place at night. Participants are put in teams of at least 2 and then given an area of about 3 miles to survey. They are given traps, GPS units, and large bright spotlights (as well as a few other tools needed for the trapping process). Using the lights, we searched for the glowing emerald green eyes of the ferrets moving in the dark, when spotted, we jumped out of the vehicle grabbed the trap and rushed after the ferret trying to identify which hole the animal disappeared into. The trap is then wrapped in burlap and placed over the hole to simulate the natural tunnel entrance, we block other holes in the surrounding area and then head off to spot for more, periodically checking the trap to see if the ferret has entered it through out the night. Once caught the ferrets are brought back to the field station, a trailer on the side of the road, where they are weighed, scanned (for microchips),if they have none it means they are wild born and are then chipped, given a health assessment exam, a distemper vaccine (canine distemper being a big problem for the species) and then they are ready to be re-released back at the same burrow they came from with a treat of a piece of prairie dog for their trouble. The entire exam process takes about 15 minutes, and the Ferret is typically awake by the time that the team is ready to head back to the trapping site to release them.

I met my spotlighting partner with the zoo truck at around 6:30pm and headed out on the approximately hour and half drive to Seligman. As darkness fell, rain and then snow began to come down as we drove North into higher elevations. We made it to the training around 8pm and checked in and watched the training videos before it was time to head out for the night. We picked up our traps and spotlights at the field station and were given a route to work. We were lucky, our route was directly on Route 66 from mile ____ to ____.

We barely got to the start of our route when we got a phone call from my Boss, the Zoo Director. She and her husband were also spotlighting, she had actually been involved with the project for many years (one of the reasons I took part), from the time she had worked at the Phoenix Zoo, one of the sites of the Black Footed Ferrets captive breeding program where the originally released animals in the area had been born. My boss had received a route a bit more off the beaten path and had gotten stuck in the mud. My partner and I headed off to rescue them on the dark muddy paths of a ranch road, in the pouring rain (occasionally interspersed with bouts of snow). My boss had one piece of advice, drive fast (as to not get stuck). Now I have not really gone "mudding" before, so the experience was a novel one, involving a lot of slipping, sliding and drifting sideways even as I kept my foot on the gas as not to get stuck. (I did have one moment where we did get stuck, but we were able to rock our selves out to continue). We eventually found my boss and her husband stuck deep in the mud and then first pulled them out of the spot they were stuck, then proceeded to push their truck back to the main road. Once back on solid ground, we switched trucks so they could head back out with the 4wheel drive. Both of the trucks, and the people now coated in thick heavy mud. The saving grace was the stopping of the rain, just in time to prevent the clearing of the windshields (as neither truck had window washing fluid in them to aid in the attempts). Now in my boss's truck, we once again began our quest to spot the emerald green eyes of the endangered ferrets in the dark.

Muddy Truck

It took us a bit to figure out our rhythm, but it wasn't long till we were starting to get the hang of the slow moving truck and long sweep of the spotlight over the dark fields. And not more then an hour after finally starting to really search we spotted the green glowing eyes bounding through a field. We pulled over and I dashed, trap in hand towards the barbed wire fence. I couldn't get over it, and in the mean time the ferret disappeared in one of the numerous holes when we glanced away. Disappointed, and noting it was already after midnight we decided we should stop for a quick break to use nature's restroom and snack on some of the food they suggest you take with you for the night. We switched places so that my partner was driving while I spotlighted, just as we were about to pull out to start up again, I swept my light over the field one more time. Luck was with us as a bright pair of emerald green spots glowed in the darkness bobbing up and down as the ferret peeked up from his burrow. My partner grabbed the trap and hurled herself over the barbed wire fence. Once she got the trap set I took GPS coordinates as she plugged the other holes and placed the marker so we would be able to find the location again. Then we headed back to the truck to start looking for more. For the next hour we searched fruitlessly spotting only rabbits (pinkish yellow glow to their eye shine) and the glimmer of rain droplets on the plants. Then it was time to check our trap that we had set, and too our excitement it was occupied by a ferret.

Black Footed Ferret

We took the ferret back to the field station, where we then watched it (and another) get processed. It was fascinating to watch. Ours was not microchipped meaning it was a wild born and was a male (which is typical as males are more likely to be out and about apparently), it was approximately a year old based on its teeth condition. We called ours Burma since the spot we trapped it was right by a Burma-Shave billboard. Burma was very feisty, barking repeatedly and "musk bombing" (like skunks ferrets have musk glands where pungent odors are released, ferrets however don't smell as strongly as skunks) when it was time to transfer him into the tube to be put under for his exam.

Burlap wrapped Trap

Burma, getting scanned for a microchip

In the Tube getting knock down for procedure

Checking Health

Getting his Vaccine

Checking his Teeth

My Partner and Burma right after his exam

Then it was time to take Burma back to his burrow and release him back into the wild. Then we cleaned up the site, and continued with our spotlighting.

Burma the Black Footed Ferret ready to be re-released

Burma was the only ferret that we trapped, and the last one we saw of the night. Many groups were very successful though and as the sun came up and the last Ferrets were returned to their homes the entire corp of Spotlighters had caught and processed 19 Black Footed Ferrets, an impressive amount, especially when you learn that the most ever caught in a night was 20.

The night was long and cold, filled with rain and snow, covered in mud and shrouded in inky darkness. But then the rain stopped, the clouds rolled away and darkness revealed an infinitely starry sky. After the initial excitement of rescuing my boss from the mud, and spotting and trapping Burma, our Black Footed Ferret it was a long night of false alarms, dropping temperatures and exhaustion pulling at us. Still with all that it was worth every moment of tedium, every smear of mud, every shiver in the cold, and every shake to keep myself away. As I carried the burlap wrapped trap with the small creature inside to the truck, I was struck with the realization that at that moment in time I was carrying one of North America's rarest, most endangered animals and that by being there I was helping to keep this species in the world. An animal by history's account shouldn't even exist in the wild, born there, living there, thriving there. And in that instant I did not doubt the existence of miracles.

It was only as the sun rose over the fields that the volunteers straggled back to the field station to drop off their supplies for the next nights group of spotlighters. The exhaustion was clear on everyone's faces, as was the exultation at what they had just accomplished.

Sun rising at long last

Triumphant

We headed back towards Prescott and our beds. It was 9am by the time I dropped the Zoo's truck covered in thick red mud back where I had started. But my day was not over as the Jewish High Holy Days of Yom Kippur started that same evening, where I had promised to sing the Kol Nidre a prayer pleading for G-d to listen and forgive us our sins.

This was not the first time where I've gone straight from an amazing adventure to Yom Kippur. The other was finishing the 3 day approximately 40 mile Watershed Pilgrimage from Kayam Farm to Baltimore's Inner Harbor. None who participated that first year really knew what we were doing, we didn't know how to pack for a backpacking trip, we didn't know exactly where we were going, or how long each stage of the trip would take us. We packed too much of everything except water, we over estimated how far or fast we would go, and we almost ran out of time to make it back in time to head to Kol Nidre services. There were many moments on that journey were I didn't think I would make it, yet somehow, we were there at the water's edge. I to this day count that journey as one of my greatest accomplishments.

note the exhaustion on my face

Success! Completed the Journey!

There is something about undertaking a great task right before the fasting and repentance of Yom Kippur that seems to bring out my spirituality more then usual. Maybe it is the reminder to myself that I can accomplish great things, something I often let myself forget. Maybe it is that feeling that all things are possible, that I can start the new (Jewish) year fresh, brave, and confident. Maybe it is the moments in the dark, in the rain, in the mud, on the trail weary beyond words, when everything seems dismal and you don't think you can keep going, when you feel sure to fail. Then suddenly, you find yourself at the water's edge, or peering up into the unending well of stars above, or holding a creature that by all accounts should not exist. Those are the moments that make me believe that I'm not just praying because my ancestors did, but because something caused all those things to be. Whether it was a giant explosion of fire and dust or some great creator, I'll forever quibble over what I believe, because I'm not sure and I don't think I'll ever will be.

Through the darkness we must travel before we can see the morning sun rise. If not for the stormy weather, could we truly appreciate the stars when they appear. It is often said the adventure is not in the ending, but in the journey. All I can say is that I'm happy that I got a chance to once again to take part in a wonderful adventure.

When adventure presents itself to you, will you take it too? If you ride it through to the end, I promise it will be worth the rough spots.

Everyday Challenges

2011-09-25T18:03:00.000-07:00

It is sometimes hard to think of things to write about. My life had been crazy for a while, perhaps since I threw a dart at a map and started a life in a place that I had no friends, no job and no real plans of how everything was going to work out. Suddenly after over a year and a half after casting that fateful dart life has settled down into something that seems to be similar to normalcy. I have good friends, a good home, an amazing job and a real plan for the future for the first time since graduating college. My parents are proud of me instead of worried (not that they weren't proud, but I think the worry out weighed the pride) and I am more often happy then not.

I had some pretty big challenges in the last year and half, everything from spending every penny I had in order to feed and house myself to dealing with the week long disappearance of my now former roommate. I survived it all and have come out stronger for dealing with those challenges. It has proved to me over and over that life has a way of working out, of providing opportunities if you just take them, and of guides and teachers appearing as needed to show the way.

Life also has a way of when the huge challenges go away, little ones come to fill their place. The small ones like trying to find the "right" table to have in my home, or figuring out which project at work is the most important to get done first or choosing if cleaning the kitchen is more important then going out with friends. Tiny challenges for the everyday. The things that people tend to let get bigger then they really are, that cause the stress that makes our shoulders knot, foreheads furrow, and heads to pound.

My life has been filled lately with these type of challenges, and without realizing it I had let them grow too big. It made me feel overwhelmed with work, even though I know I can handle what is thrown at me, I still let it overcome everything else in my life. I let worries about Abraxas, my kitten getting neutered over power the common sense and knowledge I have about the procedure and how safe it is. What is it about human nature that we refuse to let ourselves be completely happy? There always has to be something wrong, something to complain about.

But I'm aware of this fact so I'm taking action. I am taking a moment.

A moment to pause and breath.

A moment to remember how much I have experienced and triumphed.

A moment to put it all in perspective, because there is always someone else in a worst spot with bigger problems. And there are new challenges in the future that will make the everyday ones seem like nothing but fond memories.

So today, I will enjoy the sunlight and the breeze. I will appreciate that I have an awesome job, food on my table, a roof over my head, and fantastic friends all around me. All my worries are not important and I will let them go, and let my shoulders relax. I will cuddle my kitten even if he doesn't want too, because even though he's getting bigger and still tries to bite when he plays he is still my baby and always will be.

Give that a thought, then take a moment for yourself. Because there are only so many todays for each of us and they are too wonderful and there is too much to be happy about to waste all our time worrying.

So pause for a moment and breath, remember how much you have overcome. Enjoy the sunlight and feel the breeze or if the weather is so, inhale the rich scent of the rain. Appreciate all the wonderful things and people in your life.

flowers in the badlands

The world is much to beautiful to waste.

And the Painted Ponies Go Up and Down

2011-08-14T16:10:00.000-07:00

The balance of life between good things and bad things is a precarious thing. When I moved to Prescott, Arizona I spent a year of balancing having no job, little money, and horrible Slumlords (bad) with meeting amazing people, having amazing experiences, and volunteering in my childhood dream job (good). Then my luck changed for the even better and I actually got paid for my dream job, and moved to a home. I was riding high because life was amazing and wonderful and I was happy and successful. Sure there were some tough things and hard times, but they were small in the over all upswing of my life.

Then life got insane again. If you've been reading my blog then you already know, if not...

My roommate disappeared for a week. She borrowed the neighbor's car to drive to Phoenix and didn't come back. I called the police and filed a missing person report, searched accident reports, called hospitals and feared the worst.

And then...

And then I came home and she was passed out in her bed. She had relapsed into her addiction. She spent about a week detoxing in her room, while I tried to deal with the fear turned to anger over the event. While she was detoxing we barely spoke and when we did we fought and it was nasty. I spent as little time at home or around her as I could manage, and following the advice of several friends I found a local Al-Anon meeting to go to. Thank you to everyone who so advised, the meetings were the salvation of my sanity.

And then... she finished detoxing and suddenly I found myself talking to the person she had been before the disappearance. The person I called friend, the person that I called my family in Arizona, the person who had made sure I always had food when I had no money, the person I had adventures with, the person I cared for. For a few days it seemed like maybe life would go on as it had, like her relapsing had never happened. But at the same time my heart still hurt, my trust still felt broken. I suddenly was wondering if maybe I should stick with her or walk away. I was lost.

In the middle of all this craziness that was my life I was offered a new job at the zoo. Education Coordinator, the position meant stepping back from the zoo keeping work to focus on education. It had it pros and cons; after all being a zoo keeper was what I wanted to be from the time I was a kid, but the chance to create opportunities for that light in children’s eyes to turn on when they learned something amazing was also something I dreamt of doing. Taking the position would mean taking on greater responsibilities, but would grant a greater impact on what was going on at the zoo. I decided to take the job.

New jobs seemed to be in the air. Back at home my roommate received a call that a job opportunity in Utah was still open to her with a huge pay increase to sweeten the pot. So my decision was made for me. The universe seemed to have a plan for us both.

So the last few days have been spent with my roommate packing up and/or selling her stuff to head to Utah. I put up an ad for a roommate and found a young woman going to the local Prescott College who needed a place to stay. (she's out in Massachusetts right now, so we "met" to talk over video skype, interestingly enough it turns out we had actually met each other before.) We seem to have a lot in common, and I'm thinking it should be a good match.

Here's hoping the Universe is back on the "lets make Leah happy" track.

At least for now things once again seem to going well. The future promises to be interesting and challenging, but really we wouldn't want life to be boring or else where would all the Adventures be?

Lost and Found, but really Still Lost

2011-07-30T19:06:00.000-07:00

This past week has been one of the scariest, hardest times of my short, fairly sheltered life.

My roommate went missing. She borrowed the neighbor's car to drive down to Phoenix and didn't come home. I saw her last on Saturday morning and for 7 days I freaked out, panicked, stressed out, called the police, called her phone repeatedly, contacted as many people who might know where she was, tried contacting hospitals, and put up messages out on Facebook to help get the word out to find anyone who might know where she was.

I came home late on Friday night after going out with friends who set out to distract me from my fear and stress to a note on the front door. "I'm back, T (the Neighbor) knows". She was passed out in her bed. But she was home.

The story is that she fucked up and stopped being a recovering addict to just be a straight addict. We haven't talked much about her week away, but it sounds like there were some harrowing moments for her.

I am so happy that she is ok. I am so Angry at her I'm having a hard time speaking to her.

She's trying to get into a Recovery Home now.

All I know, is I want her to get herself help, and I don't know if I'll ever trust her again.

I have never struggled with an addiction, so I can't know what it is that she is going through.

Thank God she is safe.

Also people are amazing. Friends local and around the country stepped up to offer their help right away. Everything from making phone calls, to simply passing the word that people needed to keep their eyes open. A Special thanks to my good friend Emily S. who set up a facebook page to search for my roommate so that I could focus on other aspects of the search. I posted the page she made on my facebook at around 4pm and by 1am that evening nearly 20 people had joined the group and also posted the page so that people around the country would know to look for my roommate. So thank you to everyone. I don't know what I would have done without you all.

Summer Time

2011-07-10T14:33:00.000-07:00

Life keeps on rolling on and keeps a person busy.

In the last month or so my job at the zoo has switched over from being a zoo keeper to educational instructor leading the summer zoo camp. It is a change that is both pleasant and hard at times. I do love teaching, seeing that look of excitement as a child learns some new amazing thing or gets to do something the average person will never get to experience. I also miss the day to day interaction with the animals and often feel as the knowledge that I've been working so hard to acquire the last few months on how to be a good zoo keeper is slipping away a little as I don't get the everyday practice. I enjoy the break from the physicality of running around and rushing to get all the enclosures cleaned and the animals fed. I struggle with the controlling of children who can talk back when they misbehave and decide that they don't want to be at the zoo at all. Good and bad teaching Zoo Camp has been keeping me busy.

In the end I will say I enjoy it more then not. It is funny to think about how long ago I was terrified at the idea of being a teacher in any form. Back when I was still a high school student trying to decide what I wanted to do with my life I decided against going to college for music because I was wise enough to acknowledge that while I loved playing music I was not good enough to make it as a professional musician, at the time I thought that meant that my only other option in working with music would be as a music teacher. And after watching my fellow students give my math teacher a nervous breakdown I feared the idea of trying to control students. I opted out of any major that would have led me into teaching. I was convinced that if I had to stand in front of children and try to teach that the students would rush me and devour me alive.

Over time, life and experience gave me the skills I needed to be a teacher, perhaps even a good teacher if I may be so bold. Also the amazing resource of my mother to bounce ideas off of and get suggestions of how to deal with problems didn't hurt my learning curve. Now I find that I am working with an intern who is helping run the camp but has little to no actual experience of actually working with kids. I find myself teaching her how to deal and I suddenly see just how far I've come in my experience and ability to teach. Now I'm not saying that I'm going to run out and get my teaching degree and start standing in front of a classroom, but I am saying I kind of love teaching now. Of course I have the advantage of an nontraditional classroom and amazing teaching tools in the form of the animals of the zoo. But regardless I find that controlling unruly kids is no longer daunting.

Beyond Summer Camp, I have gotten to do plenty more cooking including a cake for the 4th of July that was supposed to take 1 or 2 hours of time to put together that ended up taking closer to 6 hours. Thank goodness for my birthday present from my parents of a standing mixer that cut the time down from what it could have been. By the way it was a Strawberry Ginger Cake. It was 2 layers with the middle filled with strawberry ginger rum sauce with dark chocolate. The rum & gingered strawberries also found their way into the cake batter, then the whole thing was frosted with home-made cream cheese ginger icing and then covered in strawberries, blueberries and home-made candied ginger. It turned out well.

I've also had the lovely advantage from summer camp that for now I have weekends off and have been able to take part in my Sunday writing group get togethers, where while I haven't always had the freedom to work on my writing (worked on lesson plans instead) I at least get to see and be with my friends who encourage me to keep on writing.

My kitten Abraxas continues to be a source of amusement and sometimes annoyance in my life, growing larger everyday with his gangly kitten ways. He charges our feet when we walk by, throws his toys onto our legs when we are sleeping and then using us as a playground, and gets into increasingly high spots where he should not go. Of course he also cuddles and purrs and endears himself with cuteness when he is not making us laugh by falling off ledges and making leaps he can't quite land yet and flipping over like a gymnast for no other reason other then trying to catch his tail.

And that is the news of my amazing and awesome life.

Though it is not all roses and daffodils, we did have a bit of a scary time when my roommate got ill. She was having chest pains and her heart rate spiked and we headed out to the emergency room. She ended up spending several days in the hospital having had a mini stroke. She came home relatively unscathed but with an edict to change her eating style. And so salt is banned from our home and I've been teaching her how to read Nutritional labels and make healthy choices.

There are about 3 more weeks of Zoo Camp and then I will return to my zoo keeping activities again. At least until Fall Zoo Camp.

The Soapbox Dilema

2011-05-19T07:29:00.000-07:00

I can sometimes be a bit of a preachy person.

I don't mean in the religious manner. No, about issues and positions I hold. Some are political, some are related to food, health and my own stubborn lessons learned about whatever. But the biggest of my soapbox issues is about pets.

For about three years I worked at the Maryland SPCA, a Baltimore City Animal Shelter as a Kennel Attendant and it was some of the hardest emotional times in my life. It was also an amazing life affirming place to work where I would see miracles on a regular basis. My time there has shaped me as a person and is the origin of most of my pet soapboxing. Is that a verb? Well it will be for now. Anyhow, good and bad it was a job that helped me to define... well me.

The Issues. There were many. Number one? Spay and Neuter your pets, obvious and simple and yet huge numbers of people don't do it with excuses like "I want my cat to experience the joy of sex" (real quote from a man who came into the shelter... shudder.) "I want my kids to see the wonder of birth" (so I'm gonna get let my cat get knocked up, the kids play with the kittens and then we are going to dump them at the shelter once the vet bills kick in and they stop looking cute...) There I go soapboxing, I think you get the point. I could go on and on, about the many things that people do that are just wrong by my moral standards. And just in case someone who is on the fence about "fixing" their pet let me just real quick throw in the reason WHY Spaying and Neutering pets is important. (There are a lot of reasons why but let me try to keep it simple as possible.) Cats and dogs who are not fixed can multiply rapidly. A cat can have up to five liters in 1 year. They can have 6 or more kittens each time. They can reach sexual maturity as early as 4 months of age, and the average age of a cat is 15 years... I'll let you finish counting and let me tell you the fingers and toes aren't going to cut it. Those animals all need homes, and fixing or as you can guess the number continues to grow exponentially. There are some who argue that those animals survive and lead good happy lives as feral cats which runs into yet another soapbox issue for me. Let me just state my stance and leave it at that. Feral cats DESTROY ecosystems, they kill massive amounts of small animals and can decimate native species (the same goes for house pets that are allowed to run freely outside.)

Whew. As you can see, I tend to get a bit passionate about these issues and even a bit well pushy when arguing my points, as I am sure any of my friends who have heard me preach could tell you.

With these principles helping to define who I am, I have lived my life around animals in a certain way. One of the most important ones being the decision that as much as I loved having pets in my life I would not own an animal until I felt secure enough in my life and future to know that I could always take care of said animal. I saw too many wonderful animals come into the shelter because the owners moved away and just left the animal in their old home, or the people just decided they didn't want the animal anymore. I promised myself, I would do everything in my power to never be one of those people. Now I am not attacking anyone who has given an animal up. Life does happen and sometimes we have to do what is the right thing for ourselves and our pets, but I just wanted to make sure that I would do as much as possible for preventing that future for any animal I might own.

Which leads me to the less preachy happier point of the entire reason I'm writing this post. I recently got a job, one that promises to be a place that I'll stay at for a good long while. A first for me, as most of the jobs I've had were either temporary to begin with or the kind you know you don't want to stay when you start. I finally am in a place in my life where I feel that I could make the commitment to my own pet. Something that I have dreamed about since the first time I walked into an animal shelter to volunteer when I was 16.

When I worked at the MDSPCA I was going to college, living at home when I wasn't away at school and my parents had two wonderful cats of their own. They had no interest in adding any more animals to their collection, so I knew no matter how much I fell in love with the different animals in the shelter I wouldn't be adopting any of them myself. I tried to recruit friends to adopt the ones I fell to hard for, but mostly I just tried to match them up with good homes with the people coming in to adopt. It was about this time that I started thinking about how I would go about adopting a cat when I was ready. At the time I thought maybe I would volunteer at the local shelter so that I would get to know the animals, or baring that I would talk to the people who worked there because they are the ones who know the most amazing animals that everyone else overlooks. I knew it would be an adult cat, because I saw too many people walk in and ignore any animal over 4 months old and then talk about exactly what traits they were looking for in an animal and then ignore my explanation that a kitten's personality will change as it grows out of kittenhood. They made me angry, the puppy and kitten only people, and it let to yet another declaration of how I would never ever, EVER own a kitten.

Near the end of my time working at the animal shelter I started having vivid, sometimes disturbing dreams, almost always about cats. If you've ever worked in a shelter system, particularly in a busy public city shelter that is NOT a no kill shelter, you may understand how emotionally hard the work can be (not to mention physically demanding as well). On hot summer days over a HUNDRED animals would be surrendered to the shelter, we got bonuses if 30 animals were adopted in a day... we got bonuses sporadically, you figure out the math. It's making me depressed just thinking about it. It was my dreams (plus the fact I was about to leave the area to go to school at Paul Smith's College in upstate New York) that helped me realize that I needed to quit my job at the shelter. But there was also one dream that wasn't so dark and horrible...

The dream went on a whole bit longer but the only part that I really remember with bright clarity was the last few seconds. I saw a cat, a big cat with brown tabby markings and white from his nose down to his feet, then he looked me in the eyes and I saw that his eyes were electrically blue and as soon as ours eye met I was fully and completely awakened out of my REM state and sat up straight in my bed. I have maintained the belief that one day I would meet that cat and we would be each others.

In the last year of my adventuring I've had too many amazing things happen for me to discount the impossible happening. So a day or two after my roommate and I started discussing how we'd like to get a cat and how we would go about it, she got a phone call from her husband in Salt Lake City. They talk every night so it was not an unusual thing, it just so happen that her husband who works as a security guard was working guarding an animal shelter. He had been there for several nights already and he told her about how a bunch of new cats had just been moved into the adoption room. Then he just about dropped the phone. He saw HIS cat. The cat he had to give up four years when he got hurt on the job, broken both of his legs and had to go live in a rehabilitation hospital till he learned how to walk again. The cat he thought he had re-homed with a neighbor, who was gone once he was back on his feet. The very next day he walked into the shelter and told someone from the staff his story. The next thing he knew he was in front of a news camera sharing his story and they gave him back his cat. The problem then comes in, he was not in a position to have a cat where he is, so he rented a car and drove to Prescott. So now his cat is OUR cat.

The caveat to this story is when the cat he brought down was compared with the cat from the pictures... it wasn't the same cat. Very similar, strikingly so, but not the same one. In the end it doesn't matter she is still our Cat. Her name is Kacheena, which is the word for spirits in the Hopi language (my roommate's tribe).

But wait my story isn't over yet. Less the 24 hours after Kacheena arrived, Becki came home from work with a tiny approximately 6 week old kitten, just barely old enough to be away from Mom without needed nursing. She plopped him down in my lap and told me how we were just watching him for the night.

Who can resist such kitten cuteness. And I enjoyed it, like the aunty who passes the baby back to mom when it starts fussing. I knew he wasn't going to stay. I said bye-bye kitten in the morning and headed to work fully expecting him to be gone when I got back. I was wrong.

Becki informed me that we would have him for a few more days while the girl who was adopting him got her ducks in a row so to speak. The kitten was so young that he needed to be stimulated still to use the litter box, and so we had some issues where he'd go where ever. Becki happened to pass on this info to his new "momma" who said she didn't want him till he used the box. Cue pissed off Becki, and me deciding to look for another home. Which didn't take long, a volunteer from the zoo said she might take him if he got along with her cat. In the meantime the kitten, who because I can't stand not to have names for things (people who know me, know I have a 6 columned, 4 page list of names to name things, characters, animals, etc. ready to go), was now called Abraxas or Brax for short was getting along very well with Kacheena, so I wasn't worried on his part of the getting along. But before I could set up the meeting of kitties, Becki had to tell the girl that she had to let the kitten go if she couldn't take him right away.

Just about two weeks since Abraxas had landed in my lap had passed, with me constantly telling everyone I wasn't going to keep him, I couldn't keep him, I said I couldn't afford a kitten, they need vaccines and neutering, and general check ups especially if they are strays with kitty colds. Yes I had been thinking about getting a cat, but a cat from a shelter has most of those things covered in the cost of adoption, and I wasn't quite there yet. I'd only been working about two months not enough saved up yet to feel confidant about supporting another living being. Plus I was never going to own a kitten. Becki finally told the girl who was going to take him, we would be finding him another home. (who incidentally is a teenager, who is still looking for a place to live as she graduates high school and doesn't know what she is going to do next, so yeah, not ready to take care of kitten.)

I went in and told the volunteer that we were ready to set up the kitty meet, and she looked at me and said: "You want to keep the kitten." I gaped at her, "take a few days to think about it, if you still need a home for him let me know." Becki and I had started to let ourselves fall in love with Abraxas and had actually talked about what keeping him would mean. Still I was conflicted. I was never going to chose a kitten, it was one of those things I was certain of... still with his pink little paws and his kitten blue eyes I had grown attached.

The answer came with a phone call to my Mother. Moms are great that way about helping you work out your tough choices, and I've got one of the greatest.

It was a simple solution, my principles and ethics about adopting a cat told me that I would never CHOSE a kitten. But I didn't chose Abraxas he chose me. I didn't go looking for him, he was dropped in my lap and he needed a home. As to my finances for caring for him, I had survived on almost nothing for a year, and some of the medical stuff could be spaced out so all the cost wouldn't be at once, as well as a lot of aid programs to help pay for those on lower incomes.

You want to know a secret? I think I knew all along, from that very first time when I sat on my bathroom floor with that tiny frightened kitten in my hands. My eyes looked into his eyes still kitten blue and thought, you look like him... the cat of my dream all those years ago.

Riding Elephants and Greasing up Pigs

2011-04-22T23:41:00.000-07:00

The thing about having a job is it takes up a lot of time.

I am beyond happy with my life right now. I finally have a job, which happens to be my life-long dream. I have great friends who have cheered me on, both when I was struggling and now with my success. I have written a story with a beginning, middle, and an end (albeit it is a short one) and have sent it to be published in my brother's 'Zine, which he will be distributing as he travels across the country in his bus (and it is a pretty good story, if I say so myself). My Cup Runneth Over.

So what does that leave to write about? When everything is hunky-dory it can be hard to remember to share the everyday happiness news. So much of what I write about here is about my great adventures and while working at the zoo is full of everyday wonder and awesomeness I do have to be careful about what I'm allowed to share. A lot of what I do is not meant for public knowledge, not because it is good or bad so much as public comprehension. For one thing animals don't live forever and we can't always know the reasons why something dies, but people have this determination to want to know, to blame when often there is no one to blame. People also have opinions about what is the "correct" way to do something, and often people don't agree on the same way, so yeah can't talk too much about that either. Which of course makes me a little sad because I find it all fascinating and would love to share all the amazing things I'm learning. So I'll share what I can, but I'll be watching my words carefully.

One of the most wonderful feelings in the world is talking to people and being able to tell them you have a really cool job. When I worked at the fancy Hotel as a maid, I was embarrassed to tell people about my job. I would always explain how it was just temporary till I could find something in my field, and how I had a degree and how it was just so I could pay the bills. I have to admit I have had extraordinary luck in terms of my jobs. The Hotel was by far the worst job I held, and honestly I had a lot of fun working there, at least until the good boss left for greener pastures. It was hard work, but I think I prefer the scrubbing of toilets to the idea of being stuck in a cubical in front of a computer screen all day. I won't claim that I've loved all my jobs, certainly not all the time. All things have their good parts and their bad, but all in all I've had some great opportunities; a lot involved hard, demanding work, but none ever seemed to be a job that was unbearable.

After a year of unemployment, telling people that I've finally got a job usually evokes a cheer, a clap on the back, and an assurance that they always knew I would find success eventually. Even more affirming is meeting a new person and answering the question "So what is it that you do?" It is a question I used to dread, perhaps because it was so similar to "So what do you want to do with your life?" which I never seemed to have a good answer for. "What is it that you do?" I used to answer with my major in college so to not have to admit to being a maid or unemployed. After moving to Prescott, I would twist the question so that instead of answering it I could tell the story of the dart and the idea of adventures. Constantly I would explain "No I am NOT a Student, because I ALREADY HAVE A DEGREE". Now it is a question that I look forward to sharing an answer too.

"So... what is it you do?"
"I'm a Zoo Keeper at the Local Zoo"
"Wow! Really? That's so cool... so what animals do you work with?"
"It's a small Zoo, so we don't actually specialize. I get to work with all types of animals, from reptiles like a Savannah Lizard to big mammals like the tiger (well eventually I'll get to work with the tiger!)"

The look on new person's face usually looks somewhere between awe, jealousy, and amazement. In the mean time that feeling of pride wells in my chest and I feel awfully successful. I'll admit it, I love that feeling.

I haven't had much thought beyond work lately. Mostly because I got sick and spent my time off sleeping. I'm better now, but I managed to have a high fever (which I probably worked through the worst of it). The fever was higher then I can remember having in years, but luckily rest and cold meds made it disappear quickly. Unfortunately it turned into a cold which I'm pretty sure transitioned in to my very first experience with Bronchitis. That wasn't so wonderful, but again a little bit of medication, a bunch of rest, lots of liquids and some home remedies finally cleared it up. And finally the sick is gone. Which is nice because I haven't had much opportunity to do much except work and sleep.

I did manage one fun adventure though. My roommate came home one afternoon (somewhere between my fever going away and before the cold symptoms set in) to tell me about how she had passed a circus setting up at the fairgrounds. We decided to go. It was a relatively small one ring circus. We had a great time. They had a little petting zoo with goats, an alpaca, a llama, some kind of mini buffalo, and other critters. They had camel rides (which I used to take tickets for, at my very first job), an inflatable giant slide, concessions and best of all Elephant Rides. It was exorbitantly expensive for the tickets to ride them, but the opportunity doesn't really come into your life that often, so I forked out the money. Interestingly I happened to have read about elephant training that day so I was able to look at the tools and the trainers working with the animals and understand what was going on as the Giant took its rolling steps around the set-up track.

Beyond the animals (which I tend to focus on because lets face it, they're my life) the circus was wonderful with a tightrope act, a bicycle act, a trapeze act, an aerialist act that was spectacular and a contortionist that blew us away. We screamed, we laughed, we cheered, and we had a great time.

So that has been my life lately. Working hard at a job I love, still having adventures, keeping my creative juices flowing, and to balance out all the happy... struggling a bit with staying healthy. Everyday is something new. What did I do new today? I greased up a pair of 200lbs pigs with sunscreen so they wouldn't burn. The 2 Hampshire pigs are new additions to the zoo and will eventually double in size (yes that means they will eventually weigh 400lbs) and just like humans their skin will get sunburn without protection. So twice a day these behemoths have to be slathered with greasy sunscreen. I can now add greasing a pig to my resume under job skills.

That's a useful job skill, right?

One Year Later

2011-03-10T20:53:00.000-07:00

On Monday I will have been living in Prescott, Arizona for one full year.

It seems strange to me that I have been here longer then I lived in Ellensburg, Washington. Perhaps it was the freedom and fear that went along with living for a year without a job. Not having a job gave me the ability to join groups and take part in activities that I didn't really have the time to do much with when I lived in Ellensburg (I worked as a housekeeper in a fancy hotel, and often had 10 hour days and 6-day work weeks, if you didn't know). After a year without a job, I also say thank god I got to work as much as I did when I worked at the hotel, because all that overtime went into my savings and helped me live for a year with basically no income. Well that and the fact that when I was in high school I thought it would be a great idea to put some of my savings into stocks, and so when all the money from working at the hotel ran out I had a place to dip into... also my parents are wonderful and made sure that I was able to keep a roof over my head when my finances got dire.

Gosh darn it I'm all off my topic. Let's try again. Prescott has been a wonderful place for me, where despite the lack of a job I was able to be happy even when the realities of life got scary. I was able to make friends with people who look after my well being: spiritually, mentally, creatively, and physically. They cheer me up when I'm sad, encourage me to write, make sure that I have food to eat, and helped me search for employment.

In case you missed it, that tense was not a mistake... I said HELPED as in I no longer need that particular assistance. As of THIS week, as in one week short of my one year anniversary of living in Prescott I HAVE A JOB.

If you have been following me on this blog for a while you might remember a post in June titled: When I Grow Up... in which I talked about one of my favorite things that being unemployed allowed me to do. Volunteering at the Heritage Park Zoo.

If I've talked with you in the last month or so or if we are friends on Facebook you might have noted that I've been holding my breath about the fact that I managed to have a few actual interviews (In the year that I spent searching for a job pretty much everyday I had maybe a half dozen interviews for the probable hundreds of resumes and applications I sent out.) The two big interviews that I had, were even more exciting for the fact that they at least leaned in the direction of being jobs in my 'field'. The first was for a private collection of 'Herps' (Reptiles and Amphibians), I was super excited for this one, but did not find success in the end. The second job was for a marketing position at the Zoo (you know the one I volunteer at). I figured at least it was at and for the zoo, though I will admit now that some of the responsibilities scared me a bit. Especially the part where the Zoo Director called the person in the position 'the face of the zoo'. I was beginning to think that I would need to finally grow up and learn how to use makeup and wear professional clothing. SHUDDER.

Yeah I didn't get that job either.

Apparently the Universe knows its business.

My eternal optimism never left me despite not getting either of the jobs I had gotten my hopes up on. I plowed on, I had gotten two more potential jobs from friends and was plowing forward and my email from the zoo about not getting the job also had a note that I should stop in and talk with the zoo director when I was in volunteering the next day. I had some guesses, as the Education Coordinator at the zoo had been pressing that I get hired for at least the summer to help with zoo camp.

It was even better. Remember that post from June? Where I talked about my childhood dream job? Yeah. You better believe it baby. Childhood Dream Achieved.

I have been hired at the Heritage Park Zoological Sanctuary in the position Zoo Keeper I/Education Instructor.

It is part-time but permanent... as in there is lots of potential for me to eventually become full-time. And for the first time ever it is a job that I can see myself in potentially for years. Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself, but it is the first time that I have started a job that didn't either have some kind of built in time limit or was something I just couldn't fathom wanting to do for too long. There is room to grow and learn new skills. I'm not giving up on the idea that one day I'll go out and get my graduate degree, instead I think I'm feeling more inspired. At last maybe I'm starting to get an idea of what I would want to get a graduate degree in. I'm feeling inspired that now that I've reached a life long dream that now it is time to start thinking about what my next dreams should look like.

Before I get too ahead of myself, I'll stick to the here and now. The job is part-time right now, and so I will continue to supplement my income with babysitting. I also was making a little money selling my challah bread. As I've had some great raves about my baking (especially my banana breads) I've been contemplating expanding my bread business beyond the challah.

Oh yeah and I made a pact with a couple of my writing buddies to attempt to reach our 'goals' (we each have slightly different ones) by May 1st. For me that means getting to the "THE END" of my 2010 NaNoWriMo Novel: The Tiger's Sister (which I have continued to work on, but am no where near the end, that I can tell... YIPE!)

A year in Prescott. Crazy Right? Dream Jobs and baking experiments, pinching pennies and creative writing, Amazing Friends, and awesome adventures...

I came here with no plan, no job, no place to live. I knew no one and had never been here before. I threw a dart at the map and said why not give it a try.

All I can say is I'm glad I was brave enough to go for it... and imagine all the adventures that next year will bring.

Requiem for a first Love

2011-01-30T12:51:00.000-07:00

Laughter. Love. Loss. My name is Leah and I've always had affinities for the letter L and the words it began because it started my name. I've always had good luck with laughter and love, a thing I have always taken advantage of never really thinking about how lucky I have been to have them. Loss however is something I have very little experience with.

That changed this week. My cousin Geoff died suddenly on January 23rd 2011. He was only 56 and had been married for 25 years. He is survived by his wife Ani, his parents, and his stepdaughter and granddaughter. The funeral is today in Maryland, while I am far away in Arizona. I couldn't be there in person but my father who is leading the memorial service asked me to send him some words, this is what I sent:

Dancing. When I think of Geoff I remember dancing, of standing on his shoes, of holding his hands, of looking up at him and knowing. Knowing here was the most wonderful being in the world. Knowing no matter how fast we spun on the dance floor he would keep me safe. To my child eyes, Geoff was an Adonis and a hero. My first love, at four years old I knew I wanted to marry him, though my brother told me I couldn’t because he was my cousin. I didn’t care, I figured I loved him and that was all that mattered. When Geoff met Ani at first I was jealous. I didn’t want to like her because I thought she was stealing him away. Soon I learned though that it was ok, Geoff had a big enough heart to love both of us, and then I was glad Ani was there to make sure Geoff knew he was loved even when I wasn’t around.

Growing up is a long slow process, but one day I woke up and wasn’t four anymore. Somewhere along the way I drifted away from Geoff, and lost touch with him. I have only one tiny memory of seeing Geoff when I was a teenager; I remember feeling awkward for being so in love with him as a child. Not knowing what to say too him, too unsure of myself to try nostalgia and ask for a dance. I wish I had been a wiser person then.

But I got lucky. I got to see Geoff again. I threw fate to the wind and let life take me to where it would. I threw a dart at a map and landed in Arizona where it just so happened that Geoff was there too. With my torah study friends we talk a lot about ‘yad Hashem’ the hand of God guiding us, leading us to make decisions, to struggle through bad times, to understand that everything happens for a reason. So I was in a place where family was nearby when I thought everyone I loved was far away. When I went to visit Ani and Geoff, he seemed happy and I remembered why I had been so in love with him when I was four. He was still a handsome man with a million dollar smile and eyes that promised to always have enough love for everyone. It was wonderful to speak with him and reminisce and laugh… I only wish I had asked for a dance.

Salty waters and misty memories of small feet on large shoes, sweeping around the dance floor, confident that here was the most wonderful person in the world. How can you be gone? Whisper, whisper of love’s first ember, a child’s idol, handsome, tall, you won my smile. Now dance with me, dance with me. Hand in hand, small engulfed by large, spin me around and let a child’s arms wrap round you. Now we can dance for eternity.

Old Traditions and New Adventures

2010-12-12T00:58:00.000-07:00

In the winter of 1994 my mother brought me down to the Baltimore Inner Harbor one cold day. What I saw and heard there stole my heart. My thirteen year old ears heard a magical sound, my eyes beheld gleaming gold glowing to rival the sun... several hundred tuba, baritone, and euphoniums played in harmony, a wall of sound pouring across the waters of the harbor, a brass army. Something to aspire too. I had only recently begun playing tuba myself, and at the end of the life changing concert my mom introduced me to my new tuba tutor, Ed Goldstein.

Me and Ed in 1999

The very next year I joined the low brass army of Christmastime. I am of course speaking of the amazing event Tubachristmas. Started 37 years ago by Harvey Philips, it is a celebration of Tuba by the people who love the instrument. It started in New York City at Rockefeller Center and now takes place all over the world, making it an international event. It is the only Christmas music I love. And I came to the realization today that this year marks my own 15th year anniversary of my very first tubachristmas as a participant. I have not always been able to make it to a tubachristmas concert every year, but on at least one occasion I have gone to participate in more then one location in one year. By the count of my buttons (which you receive upon registration each year) I have played in 13 Tubachristmas concerts.

1998 four years participating

2010 Thirteen years participating

Tubachristmas events vary in size. In Baltimore on a given year there maybe as few as 250 participants or in some years over 500. Ages have ranged as young as 4 years old up to participants in their 90's. In some places around the world they will have as few as four participants (one instrument on each scored part). In Flagstaff this year there were about 20 participants for the concert mostly college students from Northern Arizona University's (NAU) Tuba and Baritone ensemble.

Baltimore 2008 - about 350 participants (if I remember correctly)

NAU in Flagstaff about 20 participants

For whatever it means Tubachristmas has become part of my tradition. One of my joys in life. And thanks to my parents for going to the trouble of getting my tuba out to me in Arizona I am once again able to follow my joy.

oh yeah, another reason I love tubachristmas is meeting awesome low brass players. I found out there is a community band out of the local community college... which means I have a group to potentially play with!

On to new adventures!

I've somehow become a baker. Funny I went to Paul Smiths College and had many friends who studied cooking and baking, yet never took a single class in those subjects myself. Now I find myself taking orders for my first week of Challahs. If you don't know Challah is a traditional Jewish bread. It is a yeast bread that is very eggy and it is braided. If you aren't jewish and have never seen it in its traditional form you may have had it as french toast (it is a favorite to use for it and is tasty.)

An early attempt... my braiding and form have improved

But anyhow I'll be making money by baking challah. This came to be when I started making challah for my synagogue group when they would meet at my house. I used my father's famous vanilla challah recipe, which I may be a little biased but I think is the best challah recipe in the world. Though if you've had my father's challah I'm sure you'll agree. My friends really enjoyed my challah baking attempts so I continued on getting the process down so that the bread would come out like I wanted it too. Prescott is a fairly isolated area with a pretty small jewish population. Unlike Baltimore there isn't a seven mile market or a huge kosher selection, in fact there is a Kosher co-op in which many people in the area will order their kosher meat (and other kosher items) from Phoenix and have it shipped into town once a month or so. It is sometime possible to find Challahs sold in the local grocery stores but never a guarantee that they will be there each week. Thus is there a potential market for my challah add to that equation my struggle to find a job (and the surviving on very little money in the meantime) equals me turning into a baker.

For now I'm going to start with (and stick with) challah for the "masses" but since I love baking. (In the sense that I've really only started baking since I've come to prescott and discovered that it is a lot of fun. ) I'm doing a lot of other stuff to try it out or bring to events and whatnot. Now that I'm in a new house (a whole other story... maybe I'll tell you about it in some other post... or not) I found my self baking a whole mess of "sweet quick breads" as thank you's for those who helped Becki and I with the moving process. I made 3 zucchini breads (1 spice w/ raisins & walnuts; 2 chocolate with almonds), and 1 pumpkin bread (with homemade bourbon candied nuts). Sending all these breads away without tasting was nerve wracking, though I had made similar versions before that came out fine, I still worried that they would be ok. (Ok I did get to taste the pumpkin bread which came out very well.) I did hear back that the ones that went out did get good reviews, I think the doubt goes back to the problem I have with all my "art" be it actual art, writing, and now baking... I always doubt that what I've done is truly good and that it is my friends telling me they like it because they are my friends and don't want to hurt my feelings.

Anyhow I'm really enjoying baking, especially experimenting with my baking. (Such as adding cocoa powder to a zucchini recipe to make it chocolate.) Sometimes my experimenting leads to some unusual things such as the double chocolate chili walnut cookies... which were SPICY! (they still got eaten up though!)

Recently I got it in my head that I wanted a Curry Banana Bread. I had tried it once before but chickened out on the curry. The bread from the first attempt was tasty enough but not very memorable or very curry. So I decided to try it again. This time I emptied my curry container into the dough.

Curry and Bananas seems like a good idea to me!

I gave it a crumb top by mixing sugar, flour, and more curry together and poured it onto of the uncooked loaf... oh yeah and I put chocolate chips into the bread. I also altered the recipe from my previous attempts by using shortening (which is new for me, I had not really used it before but Becki had bought some so we have a large amount on hand so I decided to try it.) and using only 1 large egg as opposed the the 2 that I usually use in the banana bread recipe. This was my result.

Curry Banana Bread in the pan with crumb top

Curry Banana bread with chocolate chips

This bread is astonishing. I've enjoyed the other things I've made, but this bread blows them all away. The texture is perfect, the crumb tender, the flavor exquisite and the chocolate chips make it perfect. Simply put I can't stop eating this bread. The spicy nature of the curry is mellowed out by the sugar and bananas. My roommate Becki was teasing me when I was eating a slice of the bread for my expressions of joy and pleasure at eating the bread. When I offered her a taste Becki at first declined saying she didn't care for curry. At my pressing she did finally try it... and then made some funny noises of her own to express her enjoyment. I love this bread. I am proud of this bread. I will be making this bread many times in the future... in fact you might want to invest in curry and bananas.

Did I mention that this bread is bright yellow?

The bread is the same color as the yellow in my brightly colored rug

Triumphs and Changes

2010-11-27T08:10:00.000-07:00

November is almost over and with it the rush to complete my word goal of 50,000 words in 30 days... but wait with 4 days to spare I hit that goal last night! Everything is learn-able...

Six years ago I couldn't possibly conceived that not only would I reach the impossible sounding goal of 50,000 words but I would do it ahead of schedule... while moving... and only writing a few hours each night. No when I started I tried to write every free moment I had, and now I know even if I wait till 10pm to write I'd still get in my daily word count quota with ease. Ahead of the game what an amazing statement. There are so few places in our lives when we can manage to get there and stay there. So often we feel like we are rushing to catch up, barely making it, or not making it at all. Yet here I am ahead. I know it is just a silly writing adventure with no real importance or meaning, but it is a reminder. A reminder that I can succeed at crazy things if I put my mind to it. Anything is possible. So Time for a celebratory dance.

Did I mention I am moving? As in the present tense, as in more then half my belongings is in my new home, while I'm still packing the rest of it in the old. My old place is a beautiful wreck. An amazing back yard, big kitchen, big living room, big bedroom, just a lot of space. It has felt like a home and a place that I was happy. It is also falling apart. There is little to no insulation and is ridiculously expensive to keep heated. It is run more like a boarding house with the landlords renting out each room separately and the tenants have no say on who they move in. And the landlords themselves... well lets just remember the old adage if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all.

So I've moved on. The new place is a two bedroom/two bath in a duplex not too far from where I am living now. Becki is coming with me and we've gleefully planned on the wonders of being warm without going broke and having shared spaces that will stay clean. Astounding concepts we know. Tomorrow we rent a u-haul and move the last of our furniture and big items that won't fit in my car and then clean the house so that the old landlords will give us back our deposits... including our cleaning deposits (they said if we cleaned really well so that they didn't have to send anyone else in they would give them back to us, which is something.) And then we are all moved in... of course I've still got to find a bed. (My current one belongs to the house). But that doesn't worry me, I'm a tough chick who likes camping and has lots of pillows and blankets to work in the meantime, while I look for something I can afford.

I do find it interesting that it has been almost the same amount of time that I stayed in Ellensburg. Perhaps I am not meant to stay in any one place for longer then 8 months. Though I really don't know what that says about me... I've always been a big believer in change though. It can be hard and scary, but it is integral for growth and I never want to be boring. So on to the next adventure friends! My feet can't fail me now!

Chasing the Tiger's Tale

2010-11-14T09:33:00.000-07:00

November. I often find myself looking forward to this month even in the middle of summer. It holds promise, and dreams and possibilities. I'm not talking about the beginning of the holiday season, in fact most years living so far from family, the holidays mean very little for me (though I always seem to find something to do and people to share them with.) No, I'm thinking about NaNoWriMo... National Novel Writing Month. If you don't know NaNoWriMo is about attempting to write a novel of 50,000 words in just the 30 days of November. Though if you know me then you probably already knew that. Because I am a NaNo pusher. I talk about it year round and encourage everyone to try it for themselves... because anyone and everyone can be an author if they just try. There see... there I go again spouting about the joy and wonder of what November can be.

For six years now I have thrown myself into this endeavor, with secret dreams of 'what if' and characters who run away with the story taking it to places I never imagined. Success has not always come in the attempts, but then that depends on your definition of success. Each year I've taken part, I have improved and learned. My first year: 'The Doldrums of Golden Oak Road' I completed just under 20,000 words, not even half of the strived for goal. At the end of the month I didn't care 20,000 words was exponentially more then I had ever written at one time before. I had fallen in love with my characters and all the whimsy and flaws within them and their world. And just like that I was hooked. I knew I had to try again. So I did. The next year I repeated the feat, my word count increase was only by about a thousand words, but once again I found myself transported to a different world by my words. A story unlike anything that I expected to come from me. I couldn't stop thinking about it, or talking about it as those who were around me then probably remember. My third attempt was an epic fail, but suddenly at the end of the month inspiration struck and I found a story to work on even if it didn't technically count towards NaNoWriMo, and one day I will get that story fully down for that idea haunts my thoughts at odd times.

Then comes the year of winning, of success in Nanoland. I realized that to truly enjoy November properly I had to find people like me, fellow NaNoers. So I found local Write-ins events were other people who dream of calling themselves authors gather to work on the insane wonderfulness of NaNoWriMo. At a time in my life where I often felt isolated with my friends far away, suddenly I was plunged into a group of friends who not only were as crazy as I but were close by. Yes I just admitted that I made friends through NaNoWriMo. And now besides being the crazy month I look forward for getting lost in my own brain, it is also the month I can count on making new friends. Strange how life works sometimes. At the end of that fourth year I walked away with my first Winner's Certificate, 50,000 words strong, and good friends for the rest of the year, and a Novel full of crap and nonsense. A story that made no sense, but it didn't matter, I had put 50,000 words on the page... actually I had done it twice since I first hand wrote the story in a notebook and then transcribed it into the computer in order to confirm my wordcount.

By the 5th year, my second win, it came almost easily. I was working hard and a lot, but found by writing faithfully for a few hours every night I pounded my required daily word goals needed to stay on track, plus a weekly write-in at the local coffee house where I could catch up when I fell behind or surge ahead to make up for the days when I didn't get as many words as I wanted. My story at least seemed to make sense, though at 50,254 words the story was far from its end, the month did end and with it the motivation to continue.

Now here I am in the midst of my 6th year, halfway through 50,000 words confidant that I will reach that vaunted word goal in time. I have no job, so it seems like it would be easy to power ahead and reach the winners line, but instead I work on applications for jobs during the day, or work on getting ready for the move to a new place that will be happening before the month is over. Yet even with waiting till evening to write, I push ahead spending a few hours each night and reaching for my word goals before bedtime.

We all have stories, everyone of us. I know that I am filled with stories, adventures, comedies, tragedies and even horrors real and imagined. Every year before the month begins a thousand possibilities fly through my head of what my story can be, and with those possibilities come the dreams of what happens if you really do find success. Take a story from Once Upon a time all the way to Happily Ever After, to revisions to a publisher and the idea of being a 'real' author. It is terrifying and wonderful to contemplate. Do I think about what it would mean to get there, yes, yes I do. Do I think that I will get there? Probably not, but it doesn't mean it is not fun to think about, and to strive for. First I have to get a story to 'the end.' Baby steps. Every year I do NaNoWriMo I get a little closer to my secret goal of being a published author. Every year I learn something new and get a little better. Every year I get closer to winning not just the month but my entire life.

Huh... I guess my secret goal isn't so secret any more.

hmmm well if you are interested in how well my word count is going follow me Here.

Recovery

2010-09-24T18:19:00.000-07:00

First off, sorry for the delay in posting something. I didn't mean to go silent.

There are lots of things I could write about here, that I've been meaning to put something up but never got around too. Like going to the Grand Canyon and back in less then 48 hours (also for the first time ever) or my friend's birthday party with the fire dancers or the craziness of going to court to help a friend or being one of the people leading High Holiday services this year. All interesting events in my life, but not what I'm thinking about right now.

Me at Grand Canyon

My friend Fire Dancing at her Birthday Party

Right now I'm thinking about Recovery. One of the things Prescott is known for is the high number of Rehab and Recovery Centers in the area. And a good number of people that I have met here are people who are in Recovery. In fact all of my roommates are "in Recovery". Becki just celebrated 1 year clean all the way up to Don who is 37 years clean. It is sometimes hard for me to grasp what all of it means. I have never had an addiction problem. I've never tried hard drugs, I've never smoked a cigarette, I've tried pot (I'm willing to admit it) but didn't care for it much (as I figure I'm nutty enough without using a mind altering substance), and although I do drink alcohol it is not something I do often or to excess (though it doesn't take much for me to be drunk as anyone who has ever drunk with me can attest).

The point being I don't know what it is for these people, my friends, to be clean and sober, because I don't know what it is not to be.

All of these friends I have made have all been "in the program" already when I met them so I don't know what they were like... before. But I hear stories.

Becki has many. They are her's so I won't share them, but suffice it to say they are terrifying and sad and disturbing. And hard for me to grasp, particularly when I am spending time with the woman laughing at our jokes and going on adventures (such as the grand canyon in less then 2-days). How can this strong woman be the same person she tells me about in her tales of her past.

Becki at the Grand Canyon

Tonight we have a man sleeping on our couch in the living room. Don came home with him and knocked on everyone's doors to make sure that it was ok, but there was no knowing anything about the guy at first. Only that Don knows him. We also have a couple living in the front room as new roommates, I've only met Mitch so far a very nice guy, but they are also both in Recovery, Mitch is also fighting cancer, and comes off as a real life cowboy type (has a Harley and everything.) Becki and I have taken it upon ourselves to make sure that Mitch gets fed and fed well until Debbie is partner moves in (though we have been informed she's gonna need some cooking lessons which we are going to provide.) The reason I bring up the new roommates in the middle of talking about a stranger on our couch is we invited our guest to eat with us. Mitch started to talk about how hard life on the streets were. And my roommates all in recovery discussed with full understanding what that truly meant. Once again I find myself at a loss of wrapping my head around what such a thing means.

I imagine about this coyboy wrapped in a blanket digging through a dumpster to find food to eat, as we eat a full meal with plenty to go around a leftovers to fill the fridge, even as I know I'm counting my pennies and worry about if I have enough money to pay the bills for the month I know I can't grasp fully the struggle that Mitch once went through and survived. I wonder could I come out as well if I had his difficulties? Which of us is the stronger person, the one who never succumbed to the demons of addiction or the one who went through hell and made it back to tell the tale and pull others from the fire? In the end I know that there is no comparison, because addiction is a disease, one that I am lucky enough not to suffer from. For that I am grateful. Wherever my life takes me I will be sure to remember the people I am meeting now, because until I go to my death there is always a chance to become an addict, there is no point in our lives where we can wipe our brow and say: now we are safe, for there will always be that chance that you could be the one to fall into the trap.

I have walked down city streets and averted my eyes from those who are dirty and ragged, huddled in the doorways with their blankets wrapped around them. Ignored or lied about having change to avoid having to interact with those who beg. Been afraid of what those people might do if I ended up in a dark alley with them. I'm not going to say that these fears are going to go away, but it is so easy to forget that these ARE People. They have stories, they had families, jobs, lives. They can be good people who fell on hard times or simply made bad decisions.

The man on our couch name is Todd. After dinner he and I washed dishes together and laughed about not having the ballet of putting the dishes in the washer down. He asked permission to use the bathroom, and when he came out he explained that he had been punched and his eyes were bloodshot because of it. I told them they didn't look too bad, and he gave me a hug and called me an angel for telling him the truth. Later in the evening I found out from one of my roommates that Todd is 'just' clean and sober. He is at the beginning of his journey for getting his life back. Part of me is still nervous that there is a man that I don't really know anything about who will be sleeping in our living room couch tonight. The other part reminds myself, this time last year that was Becki whom I can't imagine being nervous around.

It is a reminder though, that I'd like you all to take to heart. No matter how horrible we think our lives are there is always someone who has it harder, tougher, rougher. It is an idea I have known on some level most of my life, but it is much easier to grasp when you see the truth in front of you. It is also a reminder that no matter how low we fall, we can get back up and get our lives back. It also doesn't hurt to remember that people sometimes need help to get back up, and someone has to give that help.

So look around you in your own little world, do you see someone who needs a little help? Do you really need those leftovers from your fancy dinner or is there someone you pass who could really use a meal? Is there someone who is ill and could use a hand getting their house cleaned up? It is not the big things, but the little ones that sometimes prove that the world isn't wicked and people can be kind.

It is worth it. So my friends I leave you with these rambling thoughts of mine to chew over, and a request: be kind. After all a smile can change someones day, and it takes less effort then frowning anyways.

5 Year Anniversary

2010-08-05T18:44:00.000-07:00

On August 17th, 2006 I had major body altering surgery. A Gastric Bypass. In which a doctor cut into my body and rearranged my innards in order to create a "new" stomach, and skip over the old "original" one. I spent just about 28 hours in the hospital for this event, and then off back to home to deal with the life changing decision.

This year will mark the 5 year anniversary of the event. And now five years out I want to take a moment to reflect on the choice I made in having the surgery.

I think that this topic came to the top of my head recently when I decided to go back and read through the archives of my old livejournal blog. It was my first attempt at blogging, that I started in 2004 when a college friend who had a blog encouraged me to try writing one for myself. It is clear to me after reading through the earliest entries that practice really does help one improve, because my style was atrocious to start with. Anyhow as I moved through the entries to later years, I was struck by an entry pre-surgery in which I talked about how much pain I was in and the act of hiding it so that people wouldn't know. And another entry about a story that I had laughingly told, attributing it to post-op recovery time about getting left behind on a class hike, which in truth occurred before the decision to have the surgery. It left me thinking about how we forget our suffering once it is past. A defense mechanism I am sure, to make sure we keep pushing forward with our lives.

Reading through those old entries made one thing very clear to me though. I was a very sick girl, and I'm not talking about brain in the gutter kind of sick. I talked a lot about my body aching and hurting, also about massive amounts of colds and flu like illnesses. There are entries about starting new medications and how ill they were making me feel. There were entries about how tired I was, exhausted at the end of long days, of bad days, and of good days. In short I had forgotten how sick I had been.

Health is one of those things that people who have it take for granted. People who are fit, don't understand the struggle that those who are fat deal with everyday. And those people who are fat don't understand what it is to be morbidly obese... though they have a better idea then the fit people.

One thing I do remember about my decision to have the surgery is the need to defend that decision. Perhaps it is because I find that even now 5 years out, that when I reveal that I had the surgery I still find myself defending my choice. I understand where my questioners come from, I held a firm stance on being against anything that drastically changed my body in an "unnatural" way before I decided on having gastric bypass surgery. Obviously I changed my mind. I think because the reason behind the procedure didn't have to do which changing the way my body "look" so much as how my body worked... or wasn't working like it should.

There is an entry where I first made the decision to have the surgery where I wrote:
"This is about HEALTH, and really only health. I am happy with who I am and what I look like, but I've got diabetes, polycistic overian syndrome, elevated liver enzymes, and apparently I am leaking a large amount of protein in my urine samples, which means problems with my kidneys. And this doesn't even cover the issue of the pain in my knees and hips that dr. Krug just comes out and calls athritis. At 23 if I'm having these health problems, how can I expect to live a full good life? Can I make it to even my 60's, Hell! Can I even make it through my 30's?"

In that statement I think it covers everything I could say about why I would make the decision I did.

And I'm glad I did.

Before the surgery, when I thought about my future I thought about finding a job where I wouldn't have to do much physical work because I wasn't sure my body could handle it. Yet one year after the surgery I was working on a farm, running around on trails and lifting hundreds of pounds of veggies to take to market. And pain was not a regular part of my day anymore, in order to hurt I had to do something extraordinary to cause it, like take a 3 day ~40 mile hike from said farm to Downtown Baltimore Inner Harbor. A journey that I couldn't even comprehend making the year before when I was getting left behind in class when I couldn't keep up with the group.

Time keeps marching on. And I'm still glad. At first after the surgery I would have problems eating a lot of foods. I would try to eat, and then feel ill for a while, but as time went by I learned which foods to avoid.

Recently one of my roommates asked my why I decided to have the surgery, because it seemed to her that I had lots of "side effects" from it in terms of foods I couldn't eat. The list of foods to avoid goes like this: Rice, spaghetti(unless I chew very well), milk (now lactose intolerant which I wasn't before). If you lost count that is 3 things... more if you are going to count all dairy which I can have when cooked or in small amounts without problem. Now go back up and read that blurb from my old blog entry again and decide if I made a good trade-off. In my roommate's defense she only met me this year so has no way of knowing what life was like for me before.

I don't hide the fact that I had the surgery, but I also don't find it coming up in conversation as often as it did when I first had it. But I'm always happy to explain my choice to those who are curious. It makes sense it doesn't have the same immediacy that it did 5 years ago or even 4 years ago. However it is something that will always be part of my life's journey, a big chapter in reclaiming my life. So with most friends it comes up in conversation at some point.

Is there a point to all this rambling? I don't know.

I do know, I'm volunteering at a zoo doing physically demanding work, I'm going to go to the Grand Canyon this week and go hiking, and I feel healthy, happy and able. I do know I'm cooking healthy food and living a healthy life style. I do know I'm surrounded by good friends.

And I'm ready to keep on living this way... till I'm at least as old as the hills... perhaps a little longer.

Fourteen Adventurers

2010-07-08T18:30:00.000-07:00

This past week I woke from a dream where I was tasked with gathering fourteen adventurers for a quest. I'm not sure what the actual quest was about, I only knew it was important to find 14 brave, clever, caring, determined partners in order to succeed in the ultimate quest. Why my subconcious decided on the number 14, is not something I understand. This number doesn't mean anything to me (at least that I can remember), my lucky numbers are 6 & 16. I know that for many people 7 is a lucky number and that in Judaism that 18 is Chai (in Hebrew there are no special numerals for numbers instead letters in the Hebrew alphabet have numerical value, and the letters that represent 18 also spell out the word Chai which translates into life, thus 18 is a holy number). There is also double Chai (18+18=32), same idea as 18... by the way I picked this concept up from years of hearing fund-raising pitches in Jewish communities... it is considered a mitzvah (a holy act) to give the holy number... thus double chai or 32 as it is also known is a good way to give more. I'm sure there is more authentic religious explanations about the numbers but at this point I'm just going from what I can pull out of the dusty attic of my brain.

Back to the point. Fourteen. A number with no real meaning, in age it was the year after my bat mitzvah (13), and in my cobwebby brain I can pull no event out of my memory that I can specifically assign to being 14 years old. (I'm sure I remember things from that year I just don't remember them in association with being 14). I can remember no task in real life where I needed to gather 14 coconuts or any other random item. And even at the zoo where I carefully count out how many pieces of fruits and veggies go in each animal's food bowl, do any of the numbers match my random 14. I even read a blog recently about the most commonly chosen random number (which was 17 not 14). So why fourteen?

Perhaps I'm focusing too much on a simple number, perhaps it has to do more with the fact that ten doesn't seem too outrageous a number, after all the Fellowship of the Rings contained 9 members only 1 less then ten, so ten seems achievable. But twenty seems too much? In military terms 12 soldiers make up a patrol group, but 16 soldiers make up the smallest number to be labeled a platoon. Fourteen doesn't seem to fit. To hit twenty adventures suddenly they are too large to notice each being individually but somehow at fourteen you still can?

I'm still not hitting upon the answers I want. For now let us abandon the idea of the number completely. Instead we shall question the need to gather adventurers for an unknown quest. Now here is an idea I can grasp much more readily. First off I must point out the distinction that in the dream I clearly must search for adventurers, not warriors. Not that they couldn't be warriors, but I wasn't gathering an army, the ability to weld a weapon had nothing to do with whom I would be needing to recruit. This leads me to think about my life as it currently has been unfolding. More importantly how I've been interpreting/projecting my life. An Adventure.

It was an adventure when I left Maryland with Laura (and Amos of course) to drive across the country too move to Washington. I certainly had adventures before that, but I will say mostly I would have an adventure then settle into a calmer life view. Even being in Washington felt like that after a bit. Somehow coming to Prescott has been different. Everything is an adventure. From the journey to here, to most days after. Everything from riding a bike to volunteering at the zoo to joining a writing group and everything in-between has been adventures. Perhaps at some point I will feel myself settling back down into a calmer life view again, but for now every day brings excitement and the conquering of fear that adventures seem to be made of.

And so I dreamed of needing to find friends to join me.

While many people would call me gregarious (and they wouldn't be wrong) and outgoing, I've never been a person with a huge circle of friends. This stems from many things I imagine. I didn't have the easiest of times making friends when I was young, I much too inclined to delve into my own imagination for playmates rather then deal with the effort of making real friends (plus my made up friends always let me play my games my way). As I grew up and overcame this shortcoming I tended to make many acquaintances and a few true good friends. This has almost always been my pattern. The good news about true good friends is they tend to stick, even when you are far away, so slowly I have acquired a good sized collection of people who I happily and with pride call my friends. They come from all walks of life, all shapes, all sizes, colors, flavors, attitudes, and belief systems. My friends are all amazing.

In Prescott I am finding something unusual is occurring. For the first time that I can remember I am making friends everywhere I go. This statement sounds odd, but bare with me for a moment as I try to explain. Usually I meet wonderful people and make acquaintances. The people that you meet and may say they are your friends without really getting to know them or them knowing you, the ones who MAY SOMEDAY become friends, but for now are just people you can recognize so not everyone you see around you are strangers. This time it is different, this time I'm making friends.

So perhaps the dream makes much more sense then I at first perceived. It is a simple statement my unconscious mind decided I should know.

Gather up your friends, fellow adventurers all (whether they know it or not) for a grand quest is coming and you will need them all in the coming days.

Now whatever that means is a whole other question, but the good news is I've got a good number friends at my side, and there is nothing so fantastic as a good adventure story and the best ones the hero never rides alone.

When I grow up...

2010-06-24T19:13:00.000-07:00

You know how when you are a kid everyone is always asking what you want to be when you grow up? There are never any restrictions on what your dreams can be, nobody says: you can't be an astronaut don't you know how few of them there are, or you can't be the president of the united states don't you know how hard it is to become that? There is a potential for anything that seems to be lost later in life, when we are older suddenly those restrictions suddenly leap into bold flashing red letters saying NOT POSSIBLE.

(Lemur sticking its tongue out)

Maybe I'm too much of an optimist but I choose to be color blind.

When I was a child I was fairly normal in having ambition for my life goals, I liked animals so obviously I wanted to be a veterinarian... that is until I learned that one of the major tasks of a Vet was preforming euthanasia. I balked at the idea of killing an animal even to help end its suffering. So I revised my plan, instead I would become a zoo keeper. There is proof, in my 5th grade graduation packet we were all suposed to write what we were going to be when we grew up and mine clearly states zookeeper.

Now very few people seem to follow these childhood ambitions to fruition. Our world view changes as we learn more about... well everything and that is the way it should be. By the time I was in middle school I was convinced that being a professional tuba player was actually my life's dream. I would sit on stage in a grand symphony hall with my gleaming brass companion sitting in my lap and out would flow the most amazing sounds in the universe. And I mean universe literally, a very smart friend of mine and I had a deal she would go to college for astral-engineering and invent the bio-domes for living on the moon and I would play tuba in the first moon orchestra. No-one can ever tell me that I don't dream big.

At some point in high school I realized as much as I loved playing tuba, I was never going to be a world famous virtuoso. The looming of grownup decisions of college and major were seeping through and the reality of those flashing red words were starting to be noticeable on the highway of my life. I let fear in. It is easy to do, few can say that they can resist it fully and it has taken me many years to work on fighting my fears. So at the end of high school I easily succumbed to the fear that I would never be a good enough tuba player to make it professionally and when I looked at my other music options the most likely seemed to be a music teacher. Now that was an idea that scared me more then almost anything else. Being a teacher meant being in charge and in control of children, and I was convinced that I would be walked over like a well beaten oriental rug. (You must remember this was long before I became the confident and outgoing girl that most know me as now.) I had also watched my classmates in math class give our teacher a nervous breakdown, which caused her to quit halfway through the school year. I was convinced I would be the huddled crying in the corner if I attempted to be a teacher. In the end I leaned back towards to what I had always known as a young child. I loved animals, so I should go to college to figure out some way to work with them. I signed up to be a biology major.

My college career is not what most would hold up to be a paragon for most people to follow. It took me nearly 7 years to finally achieve my degree. I failed a good number of classes, heck it took me 3 times to pass calculus. I took those classes at 4 different colleges and changed my major from biology to zoology to liberal arts to biology to wildlife science before finally achieving a bachelors degree. That is not to say it was all bad or that I could control circumstances that caused me so much floundering, I certainly learned a lot during that time and not all of it book learning.

While I was working on the massive task of college, I was often asked a variation of that childhood question of dreams. Now instead of what do you want to be, it was what can you do with that degree when you are done? A much more limiting question. I always answered with a block of suggestions that at some point along the way someone had listed to me of options without ever really having a clue of what I really wanted to do. Somewhere along the way I stopped knowing what I wanted to be when I grew up.

This issue became very clear to me after my college graduation, all those magical promises of how many jobs would be open to me with my fabulous degree failed to appear. And so I struggled unhappily along. As always seems to be the way for me a fabulous job landed in my lap with basically no effort on my part. So I started work at Kayam Farm as a professional with a real sounding job title (wildlife ecologist), that made all that time in school suddenly seem like it had, had a purpose. It was by no means my dream job, and the entire time I was there I dreamed of a "real" job in my field, which never seemed to pan out. By the time the grant money funding my position ran out, I was both thrilled and terrified to be without a job again. No more funding meant I had no more safety net of a job, (even one that wasn't my dream job) to keep me from really going after those jobs that did fit under the dream job category. It also drove home the knowledge of just how hard those jobs are to actually get. And so I pulled up roots and moved out west to Ellensburg.

Ellensburg and my job as a housekeeper at Suncadia drove one piece of knowledge home like no other job I had ever held before. I've been one lucky bastard in terms of jobs and I can't imagine one child ever saying I want to be a housekeeper when I grow up! I've had hard jobs in the past some mentally, some physically, some emotionally but in the end they were all good jobs that I felt I walked away with important and useful experiences. And as much as I thought I was unhappy at the farm, I miss that job with a fierceness.

My current state of unemployment and the search to end that condition seem to consume so much of my being these days. Perhaps in many ways that is why I have been so hesitant to post this blog. It is never easy to talk about the struggling bits, I'm much more inclined to want to share the good news and happy times. Must be the optimist in me. That is not to say I haven't been happy, because I have been and I still am loving Prescott. But there is something in our culture that seems to make us believe that we should be embarrassed of struggling. I'll admit to buying into it, asking for help is hard and I have tried to avoid it left and right despite knowing I shouldn't feel shame for needing to. I've learned to let go a bit on some of those feelings and now take produce home from the zoo. Everyday they get at least 4 boxes of produce donated from the local grocery store which would otherwise be throwing out the food, everyday at the zoo they go through the box and throw out all the food which the animals won't/can't eat (they have specific diets). On my day at the zoo I help sort the food and without shame take some to save some money. We all do what we need to make do.

Oh did I forget to mention the cool bit? Remember back to elementary school when they asked that all important question? I said zoo keeper. The reason I'm stealing veggies from the zoo is because I'm volunteering there (so I'm there already). I've gone through docent training and can lead visitor tours through the zoo (well I'm almost cleared, I've got to lead a tour with someone shadowing me to make sure I don't screw it up). Also I've been helping with living collections, that means the animals. I've been helping there for about 2 months now, at this point I am trusted to take care of lower hoofstock (mule deer, pronghorn, chickens, peacocks, ducks, and coati); Kiwanis (emu, llamas, and pot-bellied pig); and Birds of prey (Barn owl, Great horn owl, Red-tailed hawk, and Ravens) all by myself. That means I go into enclosures feed the animals, clean up their spaces and take care of all the food prep. The only bit I haven't been cleared for is Abby-side animals, because I have to get a TB test first, and since I'm allergic to the test (I always get a false positive) I'll need to get a chest x-ray, which obviously since I'm taking free veggies from the zoo I can't exactly afford right now. Despite that set back I'm loving my time at the zoo and though I might not have the title I know have the skills of my childhood dream job. In all but name I'm a zoo keeper now, and what is a rose by any other name?

Me working in the Pronghorn enclosure

Jade the Mountain Lion

Baby Javalina

Coati

Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself...

2010-04-03T23:40:00.000-07:00

Fear - a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid.

This is a topic that I've been thinking about a lot lately. Whether we are willing to admit it or not, fear has a strong hold over the way we live our lives. I think perhaps that this idea has taken root as I've tried to comprehend the response of many to my move to Prescott, Arizona. They call me brave.

Brave - possessing or exhibiting courage or courageous endurance.

Nelson Mandela said "I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.

I was afraid of the idea of coming to Prescott without a plan, but it didn't scare me as much as staying stagnant in Ellensburg, Washington with a job that I didn't care for, a slow social life, and an apartment where I spent most of my time alone. I wasn't unhappy in Ellensburg, but I wasn't exactly happy either, and there wasn't really room to evolve there. As I have explained before, leaving Ellensburg was not hard. I had already left my most major ties when I came out west, (you know family, life long friends, etc.) When it really comes down to it, cutting ties has always come easy to me. I always looked at it as starting fresh, a chance to recreate myself as a better me without anyone who already has preconceived notions about me. Each time I switched schools (6 times before graduating high school, classes at 4 different universities before getting my degree) I was in a way preparing for this future. Yes I made friends in Ellensburg, but the bonds holding me to the location were weak. So how does heading to Prescott make me brave?

I don't feel worthy of such a title. I've never thought of myself as a courageous person, rather I would describe myself more as a paranoid person. I am afraid of almost everything. OK so that is an exaggeration, but you get my point. I'm afraid of heights, of getting burned, of snow and ice, of getting seriously ill, of large crowds, of earwigs, of never finding true success, of driving over a cliff into water and not being able to escape my car. Mostly I blame my active imagination for my paranoia. I think up ridiculous situations of horrible things that could happen to me at the most mundane times. I start planning for a camping trip and I come up with scenarios about being chased by bears, falling down sinkholes, getting lost in the woods, alien parasites sneaking up my nasal passages and taking over my brain, rain, snow or sleet ripping holes in my tent, or tripping and breaking my leg in the middle of the woods. The good news is I long ago figured out if I gave in to all my crazy paranoid fantasies I would never get out of my bed (except I could probably come up with a few that could strike me there as well). I suppose you could call that brave, but mostly I go with pragmatic.

Certain fears from my collection, I am fond of bring out into the light and challenging them outright, forcing myself to face them on the concept that facing your fears is the only way to overcome them. I think after many years of testing this theory I have come to the conclusion that, that is complete and utter rubbish. My favorite to test and also the easiest is my fear of heights. As I'm sure many of those who know me may remember I am very fond of climbing trees and then needing assistance in then returning to the ground. Also looking over the edges of tall buildings, cliffs, or standing on a chair and attempting to jump down often end in me reaching for a friendly hand to steady me. Over and over I repeat these activities that bring me closer to my fear in the hope that one day, that feeling deep in the pit of my essence will stop when I look down. I don't even know why I'm afraid. It goes against all logic that I can be standing on a completely solid building 3 feet back from the edge and still feel as if I am about to fall off to my doom.

Life in Prescott has been good so far. I have had luck finding people and groups of all types to interact and make friends with. My roommate Becki and I can and have spent hours laughing together for no real reason, and work well together (preparing the chicken coop for our soon to be coming hens, and prepping the garden for planting, not to mention a half dozen other small projects around the house). My new (surprise) roommates (a couple) Austin and Julie are students at Prescott University majoring Environmental Ed and have been able to give me some leads on where to look for jobs in my field in the area. Basically they are also nice people. I've been expanding my cooking skills, and exploring the area. And while I've yet to secure a job, there seem to be options of places hiring despite the economic condition of the country, especially since I'm willing to do just about any job to pay my bills.

So was it brave to come to Prescott? I don't know, but I think I might be starting to believe the hype. If I was brave enough to come to here as I did, what else am I brave enough to face?

Today I decided to face one of those fears that has chased me for years, made more ridiculous by the fact that it has been at the core of my Sister, Beth's life for years. I decided it was time to get back onto a bicycle. Perhaps I should explain why this has been a fear for me. Unlike most of my paranoid fears which have no identifiable origins I can point to the very moment when I began to fear this form of transportation. Actually two moments form the core of this fear. It is not that I never learned to ride a bike, for I definitely did. My first major fall off a bike is when it began, I don't remember my age, but I do remember riding down the hill to the base of the court on which I lived, and I remember not being able to slow down enough to make the turn I needed to take, I remember hitting the curb and flying off my bike and landing hard, sliding across the pavement scraping the skin off my legs beneath my pants, and across the palms of my hands. It was then that I received the small scar on my left knee that is still visible today. That fall didn't stop me completely though. I do know I was more then hesitant to get back on a bike and did my best to avoid it for a long while. Luckily I have wise parents and after my superficial wounds healed they insisted that I get back into the saddle again, so to speak.

The second moment was when I was about 16 years old. I had fallen out of the habit of riding a bicycle and my mother wished both to be able to ride as a family and to increase my health through the exercise. So we started riding on a bike trail. During that summer we went perhaps a dozen times to ride on the trail. Each time I would protest my inadequacies at my riding abilities, but always we would ride on. And we did have fun. I remember the moment with clarity, I was finally feeling confident to be riding on two wheels without falling off (which I did on every single trip out to the trail that summer, except the very last time when I had lagged far behind and only traveled very slowly). I was so pleased in those few seconds before my front wheel hit a large rock and I went flying over the handlebars as the bike inverted and began to fall atop of me. There was a good deal of blood and crying, but I also got back on the bike and road back to the head of the trail where the first aid kit was. My mother did try to keep my spills from becoming these fears, unfortunately my psyche is not so willing to forgive and forget.

After that summer I managed to avoid getting back on a bike again, and eventually I headed off to college and the rest of my life and managed to find a way to live life without needing to be on a bike ever again. In the mean time my sister began using a bicycle as her primary mode of transportation and then eventually helped found Velocipede - the Baltimore Bike Project, and most recently (about the time I headed west for Ellensburg) did a cross country trip of her own... on a bike. She converted my brothers and they too use bikes as primary locomotion around town (well Ben did, except he just went out to pick up his new bus. Congratulations Ben!) Even my parents have gotten into bike rides (my mom always was, but now my father does as well). I was the only hold out. And while my siblings like to ramble about bike-whispers who teach adults to ride bikes, I had no actual need to be on a bike other then a vague desire to one day ride a motorcycle, and be one tough chick.

But then there was the hype about me being brave and add into the equation an extra bike hanging around the house and a roommate whose got my back. I love the location of my house. It is beautiful and not really that far from most things, but it is just a little to far away to walk. If I don't want to drive everywhere, a bike becomes the only obviously viable option (I suppose I could find roller-skates and travel that way, or maybe tame an Elk.)

(View from my Backyard)

So I got on the bike (and with a good bit of coaching from Becki) I learned how to ride.

(Aaaah)

(I'm gonna fall off!)

(Success! I'm riding a bike without falling off!)

I obviously still need a lot of practice before I'm going to feel comfortable riding around town. Still I did it. And if I can face that fear, maybe I can call myself a little bit brave.

And who knows what other things my future holds for don't they always say "Fortes fortuna adiuvat" fortune favors the brave?

(Feeling Bold)

If you haven't already see my newest bunch of photos from around Prescott HERE
and if the link don't work try pasting http://outdoors.webshots.com/album/577131797QANuVs?vhost=outdoors

Lions, Javelinas, and Chickens… Oh My!

2010-03-22T21:55:00.000-07:00

I’m starting to get a feel for Prescott, Arizona a bit more and starting to figure out where my place may be. I feel as if I am already making friends here, which feels amazingly fast considering I only arrived in town a little over a week ago. Already I have met up with Kali (the woman I was trying to arrange to live with, as talked about HERE) at a local coffee shop to hear music, and we hugged upon meeting. A very good sign, in fact everyone I’ve met in Prescott seem to be huggers, and if you know me then you know I am a very big fan of hugs. I know that often times when I know I am feeling depressed it can closely be associated with the length of time since my last hug.

I’ve even already connected with a local synagogue. I am trying to get into the habit of checking the local paper’s website everyday and noticed on my second day in town that there was an ad in the community section about how it was the last day to RSVP to the Community Passover Seder. (If you don’t know Passover is a major Jewish holiday that celebrates the liberation of the Jews from slavery in Egypt and the gift of Torah, [the holy book and laws also known as the Old Testament to Christians]. It involves a sort of modified fast where we stop eating certain foods called chametz in Hebrew which are traditionally breads, anything using yeast, beans, corn and depending on a family’s background can included even more. The point being to avoid what are traditionally the staples of your family table, with the idea being that on some level you can grasp the struggle our ancient ancestors went through to become free and really form the root of the Jewish society with all its moral cores.) (Anyway that was a large aside and I didn’t mean to get that far off topic, so sorry about that.)

So back to the main story, I responded to the ad immediately since I hadn’t a clue of what I was going to do for the holiday and was pleased for an opportunity to meet up with the Jews of the area, always a good way to start to meet people. After a couple emails back and forth I discovered that the group that I had responded to is actually a brand new group who were dissatisfied with the way things were being run at the Big Temple and have been running things out of people’s living rooms. I can’t say I’m upset that I stumbled upon their group first, when I had first looked up the Big Temple in town I was a bit concerned about how big it was since I grew up in Beit Tikvah a smaller group in comparison to some of the monster sized congregations that can be found in the Baltimore area (I’m sorry praying in a room with 500+ other people is a bit over whelming for me, I’m a bit agoraphobic so I tend to freak out in crowds). Also I’ve been lucky in that the other places that I’ve lived I’ve always found smaller synagogues, mostly because there aren’t many Jews to be found in those areas, but semantics, that same limited populations also always seemed to lead to very mixed communities which lead to interesting discussions.

Coming in fresh, I don’t really know any of the politics behind the new group forming and that also makes me happy as it gives me options and a clean slate. Being so new also leaves a lot in the air for how things are run, and whether or not it will make it in the long run. There is no rabbi and it is all congregant lead, actually it reminds me a lot of how Beit Tikvah was formed, basically a bunch of like-minded people gathering to find their own way to their Judaism. In fact the woman whose house the Saturday Morning service was held at who seems to be one of the main leaders of the group reminds me a lot of one of the original founders of B.T., down to the large sci-fi collection on the shelves (if you are someone in the know of Beit Tikvah then you know who I’m talking about).

Anyhow, on to adventures!

Becki (my roommate) and I decided that we would do some driving around on Sunday so that I could get a better lay of the land (since I still get lost in a paper bag and have only figured out where a few main things are). We also talked about going to pick up chickens for the coop that is in our backyard, and we were very excited about it. We were just about ready to head out when we got a call from Tony (the other roommate who is moving in on the 1^st) that he was coming by to drop stuff off. We decided to wait, since I still haven’t met him yet and set about working on prepping the soil of our garden and checking out our chicken coop. We realized there was a large opening under the back porch into underneath the house and we decided it would be a good idea to block it so nothing could live under there. So we did, but we noticed that Mousy and Monkey were trying to get back into the hole after we closed it and we had the sudden realization we didn’t know what sex the cats were and if they were fixed or not. So we decided the best solution would be to just go and ask the neighbors (to whom they actually belong).

Carrying the purring Monkey along with us we walked over and knocked on their door. We talked about a couple of things (apparently we have been getting their mail) before bring up the subject at hand (both males, both fixed). And then our neighbor started talking about why he had gotten the cats and why they were outdoor cats even though he didn’t like to have them be outdoor cats. The conversation went a little like this:

N - “Oh yeah we’ve lost a few, but they were the only way to stop the pack rats.”

B- “P-pack rats?”

N – “Yup, they’re about 6 inches long and a long tail and they live up in the walls. You can hear them in there and I’ve pounded on the wall right over them and it doesn’t do a thing.”

B- “Gulp… Well we are planning on getting some chickens for our coop in the back.”

N- “Oh yeah, the college students that used to live at your place tried, they lost them all to the coyotes and whatnot… (Continued discussion of how best to keep coyotes out of coop area)… Oh yeah we see coyotes around here all the time right up in the front yard, also the javelina, they love to eat gardens… especially tomatoes and melons.”

B- “There goes my plans for the melons.”

Me – “Can they jump fences?”

N- “Na can’t get over fences. Let’s see well at least you don’t have to worry about the mountain lion anymore.”

B & Me – “Mountain Lion?!?!”

N- Yeah, was living in the rocks behind the park (which happens to be less then a block away from our house and has a children’s playground.) The mountain lion is dead now. Hit by a car, so you won’t have to worry about it any more.”

And so on. As you can see an very interesting conversation, a bit paraphrased since I didn’t realize that it was one of those moments when you wished you were carrying a recording device with you, but you get the drift.

After this enlightening conversation, Becki and I quickly realized there was a lot more work to be done on the coop before we are ready to bring the chickens home. Tony still hadn’t arrived and it was already after 1pm so we decided that we were tired of waiting for him and decided to go out and gather supplies for our projects (garden, coop, and rat traps, along with trying to get water hooked up to our new 2^nd fridge that Becki got at Good Will for about $50). We went first to Wal-Mart and found some of the things we needed (but not all… I try not to shop there but when on a budget it is hard not too).

The previous evening (when at the Synagogue havdalah) I was out in Chino Valley (a nearby town about half an hour drive away, part of the Tri-city area the others being Prescott, & Prescott Valley) and had stopped at the Safeway out that way. I decided that I was going to get a red box DVD out and didn’t really worry about it since you supposedly can return the DVD’s back to any redbox location. I said SUPPOSEDLY for a reason. I had stuck the DVD into my purse so that I could drop it off while we were out and about. Wal-mart had a redbox location, after several tries it became obvious the machine wasn’t going to accept it. An attendant noticed our attempts and suggested we try the Walgreen’s down the road. So we drove down the road… it didn’t work there. So after laughing our heads off, Becki and I drove out to Chino Valley.

There ain’t much in Chino Valley.

Driving towards the town there is mostly open fields, that this time of year are filled with only dead grasses and shrubs. We made the most of it and sang along to the music and made it to the store with the redbox. Thankfully this machine took the DVD back, mission accomplished!

We headed back towards civilization, oops I mean Prescott. Actually still needing the rest of the supplies to get our projects ready we headed to Prescott Valley to Home Depot to get what we needed. After that THEN we headed back to Prescott.

Once back into home territory, Becki directed me to pass the house and keep driving straight. We followed the road up towards Thumb Butte, till at last it ended in a state camping ground. We stopped and decided that we would collect some of the dead wood on the ground to use as kindling for our fire place. As we were finishing up our gathering, Becki alerted me to the presence of a javelina on the other side of the stream near us. Me being me I rushed to the car and threw the sticks into the trunk haphazardly and grabbed my camera to take pictures.

It was a good day, and our tummies hurt from laughing so much. What more can you ask for?

Be it ever so Humble…

2010-03-19T00:20:00.000-07:00

Into the Sky

Home is it a place or a concept or something else entirely? Is it the place you grew up or the place you make on your own?

Honestly I don’t know what my answers are to those questions and they are interesting ones considering the way I’ve been roaming in the last year or so. I called my apartment in Ellensburg my home while I was there, and I certainly called my parents’ house my home after growing up in it. But how long till I get to call my newest place a home?

When do I stop feeling like a lost tourist, startled that the Court House clock chimes the hour, and befuddled beyond the few main streets as to where I am. That said I am here in the place where my dart landed. I have reached my goal despite the fact that it was a shallow one, I still feel proud of that fact. And I even have a place to live.

My search for a home began long before I left Ellensburg and as I previously wrote I left Washington a little terrified for the lack of such a place at my end point. When my first few good leads fell through, I tried to keep the search a bit more to myself. I got another good lead while traveling, and spilled the beans a bit when talking to a few people on the phone (so they wouldn’t be worried for me not having a place to live). Turned out that a good lead is not much of anything, the woman that I had been talking too about the room ended up with problems of her own. From what she told me, it sounds like the landlady who was a bit scattered and sketchy decided that she wanted to move back into the house herself and kicked out her tenant (the girl I was talking to) out.

Back to square one. I am too practical a person to count my chickens before they hatch, so I had continued my apartment search anyway, so by the time I had the info about the “good lead” I had an appointment set up to see another 2 places. One was ok, and the other was beautiful and they cost just about the same. I went with beautiful.

Front of house

My new place is a big 5 room house, with a self-contained apartment in the garage as well. Currently there is one other person in the house, Becki who is bright, fun, and easy to talk too. There is a young guy, Cody living in the garage apartment, who comes in to do his laundry. There is another guy, Anthony who is moving in on the first of April, I haven’t actually met him yet. And a friend of Becki’s Don who is trying to move in as well, Becki hold

s him in high esteem and he would be bringing with him Stumpy a 14 year old golden lab. Hooray for animals! There are also 2 neighborhood cats whom roam freely, are super friendly and are convinced that our house is their second home. Mousey is a bit more shy and is a long haired tabby, and Monkey is a long haired black and white who has a love of sitting on faces and purring non-stop. I am a happy camper… (well not a camper since I’m actually in a house again, but you get my point.)

Monkey

The final bedroom for now seems likely to stay empty, especially since I had spotted an ad for the property the very first time I started looking in January. Though I did make sure to l

et Kali (the woman who is getting kicked out of the place I was trying to live) know about the empty room since she is looking now. There is a big kitchen and an attached dinning room with a big family style table (and it seems that Anthony is a chef, double whoot.) A good sized living room with a wood fireplace and big skylights filled with comfortable couches and chairs. Oh and a spirit that Becki and I decided to name Horace that apparently likes to show up on regular basis (already spotted him myself last night) and has been known to open and shut doors.

please excuse the mess I'm still unpacking

built in desk

kitchen

living room and dining room

The back yard is the best part. At first glance it is barren and small. It is actually huge, with a separately fenced dog run; hang out area with garden (that just haven’t sprouted yet), a chicken coop and run, and the creek. Technically the property ends at the water’s edge, but the view beyond is spectacular and doesn’t seem to immediately encroach on any of the neighbors (Becki said she goes to the other side fairly often). Becki did warn me though that I need to watch for Rattlesnakes (who should be starting to stick their heads out again about now) and wild pigs called Javelina, who have been known to charge, and of course lots of skunks.

view from my back yard

creek in my backyard

chicken coop

Amos enjoys the view in the backyard

All I know is right now, I’m happy and whether or not Prescott becomes my true “home” I’m having a grand adventure finding out.

"...I came, I saw, and I was conquered..." - Franklin D. Roosevelt

2010-03-13T20:49:00.000-07:00

Days Thirteen and Fourteen

Before I forget (again) let me post the links to my photos from the trip Here (part one); Here (San Fran); and Here (part two). My personal favorites are in part two. Also I will be creating a part three soon, but I haven't had a chance to load those photos online yet so you will just have to be patient.

Triskaidekaphobia - the fear of the number 13. I am not a superstitious person... OK I am, but being afraid of 13 has never been one I've given much credence to, and I like black cats too. Anyway back to my point I had a sudden realization as I started to make plans that I was on the 13th day of my trip. Thirteen days on the road with no home and everything I own fitting on four wheels of a machine with a propensity to break. I had so many issues with my car on my first journey, the one that took me from the east coast to the west that I am constantly worried that something is going to go wrong with my car. Added to the fact that my cell phone has continued not to work (whole other story about how I had to change my number to a new phone... lets say it has not being going smoothly), leaving me with no way to call triple AAA for help if goodness forbid something did go wrong my paranoia has been about my car has been at an all time high.

I worry that my tires will blow out, or my engine will overheat. I worried as I drove down the twisty roads of the 101 and the California state route 1 that I would either a) drive off a cliff and smash into a mountain or b) drive off a cliff land in the ocean and loose everything I own under the water (which lead to a very interesting contemplation of what of all my junk stuffed into my car would really be irreplaceable? The answer is not much only 2 things really... my computer - because it has all the fiction that I've written and Yetta - my stuffed panda that I have had with me almost every night of my life.) I worry that every time I scrap the bottom of my car on high bumps on the road (which happens often right now as laden down as my car is) that I am ripping a massive hole in either the gas tank or some other important piece of machinery needed for the car to function correctly. I worry about a lot of things in this manner.

On the 13th day of my trip, after putting off leaving Vegas for some last minute gambling and lunch (and recovering from the previous day's adventuring) I stopped to get gas. I couldn't get the machine to work properly, it kept shutting down and I only managed to get about 3 more gallons into my tank before giving up. I noticed as I went to shut my gas hatch that the latch didn't fit right and the door didn't want to close. I attempted to push it back into place and then shut the hatch. An inkling that something was wrong clicked right away and I pulled the lever to popped the door back open. Nothing happened, the door stayed shut. This was not something I had ever considered as something to worry about. Not sure what to do, I decided to push on, luckily I have been in the habit of filling the tank while it is still half full (because you never know how far it is till the next gas station) (and running out of gas is a scenario I had thought of to worry about) so I still had plenty of gas in the tank.

As crazy as coming into Las Vegas was, it was easy as pie to get back out. Perhaps it is a metaphor about how I'm not really meant to be in Hell... I mean Vegas. I will say this for Vegas, the surrounding country is simply beautiful though. Because I had been so tired the night before from all my Vegas escapades I had not done my usual planning of the next day's destinations and routes. So in the morning before I packed up to head out I had plugged in the usual information into the map programs and was shocked to discover that I was only 4 & 1/2 hours of driving away from my ultimate destination of Prescott Arizona. I had a good heart wrenching moment of pure fear (it was about this time that I realized that it would be the 13th day of traveling). While traveling on the road I had a destination, a goal that I was striving to reach. Once I reach Prescott suddenly all the real world issues and problems would be back. Like the fact that I have no where to live and no job to pay for a place to live. So I decided I would let my superstitions get the better of me and I would dally as long as I could in Vegas just so I wouldn't reach Prescott that night, better to travel for 14 days then unlucky 13... right?

I decided to strive to reach the tiny route 66 town of Ash Forks, Arizona the self-proclaimed flagstone capital of the world and last stop before turning down to the new road that would lead me to Prescott. Seems I forgot one tiny little detail in my planning though. The Hoover Dam.

Hoover Dam of Course

Unless one chooses to take the trucks alternative route (blah why do that?) apparently the road out of Nevada into Arizona causes one to pass over the Hoover Dam on a 1 lane very twisty and crowded highway. From what I could tell it seemed to be the only real option, though they seem to be working on a big bridge for a future alternative route. The dam is the cause of Mead Lake a beautiful if man-made body of water. There were signs to remedy my lack of knowledge of the approaching landmark (of course Vegas is next to a giant dam it is hell after all... pun intended.) So I made two extra stops. The first at a lookout point of Lake Mead.

Amos takes in the View at Lake Mead

Lake Mead

The white spot above Amos's head is a boat

The surrounding Hills

The second was at Hoover Dam itself. I considered taking one of the tours but decided that first I would see what I could see and then decide if I wanted to plop down the extra cash to see the major under-workings of one of the most extraordinary feats of human engineering. In the end I skipped the tours, but felt no loss at the extraordinary vistas provided by the dam itself.

Where the red is where the water level used to be

Visitor's Center

Amos helps with construction on the new bridge

The Spillways below and Bridge above

As I walked across the top of the dam I looked up to see the two towers and realized I had just stepped foot into Arizona my new home state for the very first time ever in my life. Somehow the fact that I did it on foot had more impact then just passing the requisite sign in my car. Perhaps because on foot you can stop to savor the moment. For many years now the idea of living in the southwest has appealed to me as no other location in the United States has. I couldn't really tell you why, at some point my mind took the location and romanticized it. Perhaps after a few months of living here it will loose its appeal, but for now it is a pinnacle that I long wondered if it would become one of those things that as you get older you ask yourself why you never achieved or even striven to reach that dream. Well mark one more aspiration off my life list with success!

Two Towers

Arizona Time!

I spent much more time then I would have expected at Hoover perhaps because it was simply such a lovely day to walk around in the sun and enjoy life. I had Amos with me and more then one person asked about him. The tons of kids around particularly seemed taken with him, with lots of whispers of "mommy, mommy whats THAT" while a small finger pointed towards my purse where Amos sat peeking out when he wasn't posing for a shot. I did eventually make it back to my car, but a large portion of people don't stop per-say at this tourist location instead preferring to play car tourist and drive as slowly as they possibly can to view the structure and surround area from their vehicle. (i bet my pictures come out better then theirs... oops that was a bit snide ignore that statement... seriously though I have never gotten a good picture while driving, even when I wasn't the one behind the wheel, you've driven this far take a few minutes to stretch your legs people!) The traffic over the dam is ridiculous, so I decided it was a perfect moment to make it more ridiculous and rolled down my windows and blasted the Laarge Daark Aardvark Song as I drove slowly by (there is a music sample of the song on that link to give you a taste if you don't know the song already). Combined with my new sunglasses (purchased in Vegas of course) I got some interesting looks from the crowd on the sidewalk. Not to mention the cheer I received from a yellow Hummer when they noted my Maryland plates on my car.

My new sunglasses

The Hoover traffic took a good while to get through but eventually speeds picked up and I got my forward momentum back up again. In the end though I'd spent so much time not driving that as the sun started to get lower in the horizon I decided I better stop where I was since there were motels there and I didn't know how far away the next one might be. I was still a good distance away from my original goal of the day, Ash Fork. But I was so close to my final destination it was not going to make much of a difference. Oops I almost forgot to finish the story about my gas hatch... about the time that I decided to stop for the night my gas was finally low enough that I was worried enough to want to try and figure out how to get the door open to be able to fill my tank. In the end I probably spent too much time worrying about it as it turned out to be an easy solution. I stuffed an object under the door popper and using a Swiss Army knife that I had in my cooler's front pocket (thus easy to get too, there because you never know when you might need one) I was able to pop the hatch open within a few seconds. It is permanently broken (or at least till I can get it fixed), but I now know how to open it in the meantime, so no more fears of running out of gas with no way of refilling the tank... sometimes having an over active imagination is less then fun to deal with... sigh.

My regret of my final day of driving was not taking route 66, it would have added a measly hour or so to my drive but certainly would have made it a more interesting one. It was a failure of planning on my own part, at least a small portion of the 40 ran along the original mother road and I didn't realize that it separated. Unfortunately I took the wrong split. The ride was still beautiful, but the speeds were intense (75 mph before people tag on their extra buffer speeds on) and doesn't give a person much of an opportunity to appreciate the glory surrounding them. Luckily the road leading to Prescott is a scenic route and is a good bit slower and passes through National Forests. The forests don't look anything like the forests I'm used too and I'm going to have to take a field trip out there to get pictures. But hey, I don't know that I even thought about what a forest in the desert would look like anyway.

There are a lot of places along the road that I'll have to go back to at some point because they were fantastically beautiful. The good news is none of them are far away, so it should be easy to do. Without much warning I found myself in Prescott, Arizona the location that my dart had hit and I had thrown caution to the wind to find out if a person can just jump without looking. I don't know yet what to say about my new home, perhaps because all my roosters have come back to roost and the knowledge that I don't have real plans for what happens now is sinking in again. I was able to put it on hold and hide it away at the back of my head as something that I didn't need to worry about or even think about too much until till I arrived. I'm here now and it is time to pull it out and deal with the real world issues once again.

I'll tell you though... the temptation is super strong to just jump back in my car and keep driving.

Sin City

2010-03-12T23:23:00.000-07:00

Day 12

Vegas is a bit what I imagine hell to be like for me. Too many people, too much commercialism, too many tall buildings blocking the horizon, too much noise, everyone too close, everyone consumed with thinking about money - making it, loosing it, winning it, and spending it. Like most places I imagine hell would be a very enlightening place to visit, though naturally most wouldn't want to stay and live there. Unlike most cities I've spent any amount of time walking around in, there didn't seem to be anything green unless you count the neon lights of the MGM Casino and Hotel. San Francisco on the other hand (the city I was most recently in) seemed to hide away little green parks (and a few huge ones) like precious emerald oases. I concede the point that Las Vegas is in the middle of a desert and there for green parks filled with non-native (and most likely invasive) grass does not make much sense, but the landscaping seem to consist mostly of rock gardens.

I left my hotel room a little before 10am to begin exploring. I walked an alternative route to the strip then the one I took during the previous night and found myself at the Planet Hollywood building which on its doors touted to be Planet Hollywood's Miracle Mile of Shopping. Thus was I thrust in to one of the four main components of the Vegas Strip... Shopping, Casinos, Shows, and Hotels. Shopping would obviously be the first I encountered. Miracle Mile is supposedly a mile long high end shopping mall, with stores ranging from Gap to Gucci and everything in between. The worst part was trying to escape, as I literally could not find an exit (Though I did get some funky new sunglasses). Also I had an productive side adventure when a man stopped me & asked me to participate in a consumer survey/product testing. I decided why not and spent about 10 minutes smelling a perfume scent and answering questions about it. I walked away with $5 in my pocket and considering I was in Vegas where 90% of the time the money is flowing the other direction I thought it was worth the stop.

Inside the Miracle Mile Shopping Center

Eventually I did escape Miracle Mile and breaking back out into the sunlight felt like freedom. I had emerged directly onto the famous Vegas Strip.

(Pictures from the Strip)

I explored and lallygagged down stopping in stores or not, staring at people dressed in outrageous costumes, mini Elvis, and Darth Vader with his storm troopers. I think I finally stopped complaining out loud and let myself relax and just enjoy the bizarreness of it all about the time I headed into the M&M store. Perhaps it was all the bright and cheery colors made it hard to think of Vegas as hell as I had been vocally proclaiming as I streamed through the massive crowds on the streets. I don't really know but the free 3D short movie didn't hurt either, because it made me laugh. It is amazing how relaxing and letting my issues roll off of me and stop being an problem can change the outlook on the whole day. After that I said screw it I'm in Vegas and I'm gonna have a good time.

Crazy Costume

M&M store socks

Me hanging with green

More M&M Madness

There is a lot to see in Vegas, more certainly then I could ever hope or care to do in the day I had allotted to myself for Sin City. How to decide which massive hotels to explore was a little like a mini example of my traveling plans, I knew a final destination that I had to reach by 6pm but other then that I just kept trying to move in that general direction. When my feet got tired from all the walking, I would take a break at a penny slot machine and play a dollar and keep spinning till the money ran out. OK I will say this about gambling, it is kind of fun in a mindless kind of way. Only once on one machine did I ever feel like I was starting to get some kind of understanding of how the slots worked. I know the basic idea behind them: pull the handle which spins the wheels typically numbering between 3 to 5 which each have a series of symbols on them, get them to line up in the correct order and you win money. But slots are more complicated then that you can also chose to play multiple lines each line counting as an individual bet but each line added increases the chance of payback with a correctly ordered series. The part that really threw me was figuring out what to be cheering for, obviously you want things that are the same such as cherries to line up, but then some of the slots would match the cherry with 1 wild spot and a plum and grapes... is it because they are fruit? I just couldn't seem to catch on. I don't really understand how some people can just play the slots for hours and hours straight, I suppose it is the rush of when you do win, but without comprehension of what to cheer for I found I got bored really quickly, often more quickly then my dollar would run out. In fact I always seemed to get the big wins just as I came to the decision that I needed to push through so I could keep moving, as if the machine had a brain reading device inside.

I did notice an interesting phenomenon in Vegas, every time I spent money or sometimes just stopped long enough to take one of the thousands of fliers that people were handing out at every corner both in and outside of the hotels I got coupons of free or greatly reduced in price items, everything from 2 for 1 tickets to a free slice of pizza. I came up with a theory, that by offering something for free the stores got people through the front doors, a hard thing when there is so much competition as each and every Hotel I walked through had a mall section. Once in the doors people are much more likely to buy something beyond the free item and the stores can recoup the cost of the free item which is probably fairly worthless to begin with or in the case of the show... weekday shows are less likely to by full house anyway so they are just filling seats that would be empty anyway.

I did two "big ticket" things while I was in Vegas, the first being taking myself out to a fancy dinner at one of the many high end restaurants of the strip. I got some delicious sushi and a bill for over $40 for 1 person, I can't even begin to imagine what the bill for the group of 8 that came in after me looked like. The second money burning indulgence was of course the requisite Vegas Show. There has been a long history of big shows in Vegas, everything from Wayne Newton to Don Rickles to Siegfried & Roy. Currently the big thing in Vegas is the Cirque Du Soleil shows (of which there are many), so what to see while in Vegas? Should I see a classic like Wayne Newton? A big show stopper like Prince? A comedian like Lily Tomlin or perhaps a Vegas traditional magician? A Broadway musical like the Lion King? In the end I decided on one of the cheapest tickets that gave me an amalgamation of a few of the choices from above. I saw a show called BELIEVE featuring Cirque Du Soleil and Criss Angel an illusionist. In the end I got the fantastic dancing and acrobatics of Cirque and a magic show and even a good bit of humor with a team of clowns (whose primary reason was probably as diversions, but were amusing to a high degree anyway). The show had a high creepy element and certain dance numbers had me thinking out a plot to a story as I watched them, even as I felt engrossed in the actual performance.

The Luxor (where my show was)

Vegas at Night

It was late by the time the show got out and I had been walking all day, and then I got lost in hotel and couldn't find an exit (yes I know not the first time that day even). As I tried to get back to my hotel with my knee that had given out in the late afternoon I wondered into the Rain-forest Cafe store and I came to the realization that what I found in the store explained what it is about Vegas that I find so distasteful. Look at these two pictures and see if you can't figure out which one is from Vegas.

Choice #1

Choice #2

Finally I spotted a sign for the monorail which I had noted came near my hotel the previous evening. So I took the monorail (a first for me) to the stop near my home for the night, glad to be off my (by this point) very painful knee. Let me just say very quickly the monorail is NOT a smooth ride by any means, which surprised me greatly because for some reason I always thought they looked like they moved with out any bumpiness when in reality I found myself clinging to my seat in fear as a combination of my fear of heights and the swaying of the mono-car kicked in hardcore. I was glad to get back to my room, and it was at about 10:30pm by the time I got back there, meaning I had been out (walking for almost all of the time) for just over 12 hours... I slept very well that night... even though I was in a city that never seems to stop.

Even the Fish are Neon in Vegas!

A Traveling Gamble

2010-03-10T23:37:00.000-07:00

Day 11

I figured out why Lost Hills, California is called that... or least I have a guess. Cause once I hit the road in the morning there twas nary a hill to be seen. I'm guessing that one day the hills decided that it would be a good idea to see more of the world, so they picked up their skirts and wondered away. The Town put up missing signs all over town, but the hills were never found... thus the town became Lost Hills... just in case anyone ever finds the missing hills.

The road was also very straight, very long, narrow (1 lane highway), and boring, with repeating fields all growing oranges, grapes and typical produce fields. And then I exited off that road and suddenly I was driving up a mountain side in the fog and snow. Thick fog, of the pea soup verity of which San Francisco is famous for but I saw not a feather of when I was there. I stopped for gas in the middle of it and I can also say with certainty it was also very very cold. I almost missed the gas station as it was invisible in the fog. Without too much ado I came to the other side of the mountain and the sun came out, the fog dissipated and I rapidly descended into scrubby desert that looked like Ellensburg.

After that the day was more of the same driving on fairly straight roads through deserts at high speeds. It was beautiful and as I neared Nevada's border I pulled into a rest area and took some photos of the approaching hills (perhaps the missing ones from lost hills?) Also at the rest stop was an 'unkindness' of Ravens raiding the garbage cans. You may or may not know, I have a slight obsession with corvids (birds of the crow and raven family) stemming from my attempt at writing a fiction story about a boy kidnapped by crows. Basically I did a lot of background research as a base for the story (I haven't given up on that one yet, I keep coming back to it) and the more I learned about crows (and extension Ravens) the cooler I realized they are. That all said crows and ravens are another of those animals I'm always trying to get a really good picture of. And though they were digging in the trash, they were fearless enough for me to get some good shots off (I think). Meaning next time I go back to work on the story again, I'll have some good visual inspiration.

the ravens

Nevermore...

the scenery

Before I go into my actual arrival in Las Vegas I should probably talk about the problem I had with the internet the previous night at the motel in Lost Hills that I stayed at. It worked at first, enough for me to check my email and simple computer errands. I even got a good start of the day's blog entry, and then it simply stopped working and did not come back up for even a minute while I was there. I finished my blog without adding the pictures and saved it as a word document for the next time I had access (eventually I posted it, but the program was being temperamental so not with all the photos I planned on). The biggest issue was the fact that I hadn't gotten any of my planning for the eleventh day's travel. I knew from my GPS that it would be approximately 5 to 6 hours of driving (not counting stops) to reach Vegas, but I didn't have a location to head to, a plan of what to do once I was there or how long I wanted to be. I didn't get a chance to chose or even look at available shows and I didn't get a chance to see what kind of rates hotels near the strip were charging. My thought was maybe I would drive and stop just outside the city for the night, figure it all out and then go spend a day in Vegas. But as I approached Vegas, I just decided to try my luck, after all it is the gambling capital.

Las Vegas at Night

Not knowing where I was going I ended up driving down the famous Vegas strip aimlessly with no clue and a good deal of panic. Finally I found a place to park for a few minutes and used my trusty GPS to look at hotels nearby and spotting a Super 8 figured there was a good chance it would fit in my budget. Luck stayed with me and it did, in fact it was on par with the price of the other motels I've stayed at on my journey. I decided that the best plan was (if I could afford it) get a motel near the strip and stay for 2 nights so that I could have a full day to explore and maybe find a little monetary luck.

even my motel sign is neon

I settled into my room, and realized I am tired! It was the longest day of straight driving that I have done since the first day that I decided to push to a certain destination. But when in Vegas staying in your hotel room is not allowed so I decided I would head next door to the casino and restaurant (that goes with Super 8, even here there is gambling). Another sign that my time alone is starting to seep into my brain (beyond conversations out loud with Amos) is as I walked in to the dark crowded casino and attempted to get in line to get food at the equally crowded restaurant I started to have a panic attack. My heart started to pound so furiously it hurt, I couldn't control my breathing and even trying to talk myself down (out loud) didn't help. I rapidly fled the building. Once outside away from the crowds I felt better. I knew I couldn't just go back to my room and hide, but I decided that surely there would be another restaurant that wouldn't feel quite so claustrophobic and maybe not so crowded. The strip is only a few minutes walking from the hotel so I began heading in that direction. I spotted a likely location in the much larger Bill's Hotel and Casino. It wasn't quite as dark and maybe because it was physically larger there didn't seem to be quite so many people crammed into the space. I stood in line and put my name down for a table and was informed there was a 20 minute wait. To freaked to try and find another location and figuring that it was all going to be similar I decided to wait. I had a conversation with a woman in line with me, who noticed my freaking out a bit (though not as badly as before) and I explained my situation and got a hug. More then anything I think that hug from a stranger help calm me down enough to stop the panic attack.

While I waited for my table to be ready I wondered around in the casino looking at all the gambling. I even sat down to try the penny slots, but realized you can't actually play with a coin I needed cash money to play and my wallet was bare, as I had not yet had a chance to stop at an ATM for a few days. Finally I noticed an ATM in the casino (as I knew had to be there somewhere) and got a few dollars out to attempt gambling...

I suck at it.

I don't actually know how to do it, so in about 5 minutes I lost $2 and it only took that long because I tried at 2 different machines (a penny slot and a quarter slot). After that I realized I would run through my gambling budget in about half an hour if I didn't get some instruction on what the hell I was doing on the machines. So I cut my losses and noting that it was slightly past my 20 minute wait time decided to check in to see if my table was ready. It was. Dinner was good, but way too much food as the cheapest option on the menu was an all you could eat Chinese food, and me with my smaller stomach couldn't even finish one plate (but it was still the less expensive option). I made my way back to my hotel and then I've spent the rest of the evening preparing activities for tomorrow. I've found a ticket to a show for under my allotted budget I'm allowing myself to spend have figured out how to get there (without having to drive). I'm hoping in the day light the crowds won't throw me as much. I will say tonight I was reminded firmly of why I tend to dislike cities. Or maybe just that I dislike crowds...

Can ye fathom the Ocean, dark and deep...

2010-03-10T18:10:00.000-07:00

Days Nine and Ten

Escaping Ben and Beth's apartment to begin journeying again is a bit like trying to swim in the Pacific Ocean. The further in you wade the stronger the rip tides and currents trying to pull you deeper, always exhilarating and exciting, but hard to break away from. A small horde of friends descended upon their apartment to join me in crashing my last night there. My plan was to say goodbye load up my car and hit the road by 9:30 or so. I tiptoed over sleeping bodies and got myself ready easily with plenty of time. Ben had asked me to wake him, when I was ready to go so he could say goodbye and maybe feed me. So I did at about 8:30, plenty of time to still make my self-imposed deadline with the open road. With so many bodies in the small apartment the Kitchen might as well have exploded, and it required rapid response team cleaning to prepare it for beginning breakfast. Lets just skip to the punch line where by the time food was ready and eaten and I finally began loading my car it was almost noon. It was an enjoyable time with lots of people coming in as they woke and taking part in the effort, but as always plans simply don't go the way you want them too.

My plan for the day was to drive down the California State Route 1 to Monterey and go to the Aquarium, but with the winter hours still in effect, it was going to close at 5:00. With a 2 & 1/2 hour drive I wasn't sure with the late start if I would have as much time as I wanted at the Aquarium, (especially since I was making the detour specifically for that as it is it supposed to be one of the nation's better ones) but I figured I would play it by ear and figure it out as I got closer.

The weather was a little spastic, where it would pour one moment and then the next the sun would shine gloriously, or the sun would shine as it rained and then dark clouds would roll through and it would stop. Brisk winds gusted off the Ocean knocking my car around on the road.

I was driving slower then the posted speeds and as I pulled off at a turn for a beach to let the cars behind me pass, it occurred to me that while we had talked about going to the beach while I was visiting in San Francisco we had not actually made it to one. Added to the fact that other then when I first got onto the 101 the wrong direction and stopped at a beach parking lot for 2 minutes to ask for directions I had not stepped foot on sand (and had not actually made my way down to the beach at that point either). As it would have been grossly negligent not too, I pulled the rest of the way into to San Gregorio Beach where I had pulled off. It was beyond windy as I trekked around exploring and Amos had a few close calls where I thought he was going to blow

away. It was totally worth it though and we even found a sea cave which made me feel like I was in one of my adventure stories. (The we being me and Amos, I must note quickly that with all my time alone I've started conversing out loud with Amos as I pose him for photos and carry him around with me on our adventures.) Feeling windswept and pleased I hopped back into the car and continued on my way.

The view continued to be tremendous and after not too long, I pulled off onto yet another beach. (I forgot to look at the name so I couldn't tell you which, but it was a small one.) This one had some unusual rock formations, and beautiful flowers which I believe are called ice plants. It also had crazy weather like described like before when it would rain as it was sunn

y. My camera lens kept getting wet, and though I kept wiping it off and drying it, I ended up with some interesting

effects from the water on the glass.

Once more I continued on and once more I stopped, this time at a simple turnout.

Finally I arrived in Monterey home of the Monterey Bay Aquarium, Cannery Row (made famous by Steinbeck), and Frank Zappa. It was already after 3:00 when I arrived in town, and knowing a) the aquarium recommended at least 2&1/2 to 3 hours to go through; b) it closed at 5:00 and c) most hotel and motel rooms are cleaned and ready to be occupied by 3pm; I decided to look for a cheap motel (it still was incredibly windy) and relax for the rest of the day (and by relax I

mean do my laundry, write this blog, upload photos and generally get things done).

The Aquarium in the off-season opens at 10am, so at that time I entered the watery museum. Monterey is one of the best aquariums that I've seen, a close second to the Baltimore National

Aquarium (which has home team advantage). With multiple large tanks, such as the Kelp Forest

(Native Pacific Coast habitat), and the Outer Bay (also Native Pacific Coast habitat), and several touching tanks, including a ray station, kelp station, and typical tidal station it is also one of the largest Aquariums I've ever seen.

For me the one reason main reason the Baltimore Aquarium tops Monterey, is the Bio-dome habitats (Baltimore has 2, the Australia and Rain-forest). The closest Monterey comes to the bio-domes is a small aviary with native shore birds. I did have a conversation with one of the volunteers while in that section about how all the birds were part of a rescue and rehabilitation program. For me charismatic mega-vertebrates (this is a term referring to animals with skeletons who draw attention over less impressive animals) will always win over fish when it comes to being interesting.

However Monterey has two sections filled with charismatic invertebrates to balance the lack of animals with fur, feathers, and bones. One is a permanent display of jellyfish. I have always been fascinated with jellyfish after a special exhibit came to Baltimore of them. The fact that all the tanks had to be rounded (no corners or edges for them to

catch on and hurt themselves) stuck with me as one of those random things that floats through your everyday thought with no real use or purpose (not all that dissimilar from the jellyfish themselves). On top of all of that Jellyfish are simply beautiful and are a wonder to watch, and given unlimited amounts of time I can spend hours doing just that.

The second section was the current temporary exhibit, The Secret Life of Seahorses. And let’s face it, any creature that makes the male carry and give birth to the babies rank pretty high on the cool list. Seahorses also have a tendency to be incredibly difficult to get a good photo of since taking flash photography is both not allowed and not very useful when shooting through thick glass (usually results in a glare that blocks the subject matter). Also most seahorse tanks also have lower lighting, resulting in a long shutter lag. Anyhow the point of all that is I've been trying to get a really good shot of a seahorse for years. I think today at last I may have had some actual success. Well you'll have to judge for yourself...

I was starting to notice that time was slipping away as it is wont to do for me in places like the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I knew it was time to get my wheels back onto the road and headed out. The previous night I had worked out that Bakersfield, California was a good mid-point stopping point before hitting Las Vegas my next big location point. I plugged in the GPS and followed its directions. Mostly the GPS works well, but every now and then it chooses to send you an odd way, so at one point I found myself driving down a deserted country road... I had almost decided to turn around when I spotted traffic ahead on a coming cross street. Luckily the GPS and steered me true if oddly back to the major roadway. My timing was off though, I had spent more time then I had meant too at the Aquarium. I was starting to get tired and still had a good hour of driving to reach Bakersfield, which I had also received a warning about from a helpful person I had asked for directions from. Apparently it has a crime problem. As I turned of Interstate 5 towards the smaller roads that would take me to Bakersfield, I spotted a sign advertising a cheap motel and decided it would be a good place to stop. It wasn't until I was settled into the room that I even figured out just where it was that I had stopped for the night. Lost Hills, California... somehow it seems appropriate.

Tomorrow I'll start hitting the desert and will either reach Las Vegas or near there. If I decide to get married while I'm there I'll let you know.

(Note: Had some internet troubles so didn't get all the photos I wanted up, and this is being posted late... I'm in Las Vegas Now!)

Plan? What Plan?

2010-03-08T22:36:00.000-07:00

Days Seven and Eight
Everything about this trip has been fast and loose, a very new experience for me. Though my siblings always seem to hear about the amazing last minute party or show and shake up their own schedules easily. At least that is my perspective on that subject. Afraid of overstaying my welcome (as a guest, I try to follow the old proverb that guests like fish start to be unwanted after a few days) I made a simple plan 1 day to most hang with Ben, 1 day for Beth, and 1 day for Aaron, then an early start on the 4th day back onto the road. Unfortunately life likes to laugh when we make plans and Aaron's bike troubles tossed my plan out onto the garbage as Aaron ended up needing to spend most of the "Aaron Day" at the Bike Kitchen repairing his bike with Beth. Ben took me out walking around San Francisco in the beautiful day and we visited the Castro and hung out in the park. Everywhere we went we ran into people Ben knew. Oddly enough most of them he knew from Baltimore and didn't realize that they were living in San Francisco now...though one was just visiting from Baltimore. Eventually Aaron and Beth got the bike fixed and we all met up.

We decided to check out a free event called the Underground Farmer's Market that I had spotted when looking for free and cheap activities in San Francisco to check out. We didn't know quite what to expect, but as an explanation for those who don't know Farmers can sell produce at Farmers Markets without any special permits, however if they try to sell any kind of altered food product they have to have a commercial grade and permitted kitchen in order to give samples or sell their products. These usually range from items such as jams, pickled veggies, pies or other baked goods, or less traditional items such as a man who worked at the same market I used to work for Kayam Farm who sold ginger ice cream. The Underground Market, is run as a private venue and requires everyone to sign up (as a waiver of responsibility if anyone gets ill from the food they sample)which causes a line to form at the door that wrapped nearly around the block as people filter into the Market. As a "private" event the vendors are able to sell and offer samples of their products to the public. It was not anything like what I had envisioned based on my own experiences with farmer's markets, it was however interesting and crowded to the extreme. All in all we probably spent more time in line to get into the Market then we actually spent in there. Still an enjoyable time. We then went back to Sally's apartment to drink tea, play Taboo and chill (that is until we all passed out on the couches in the living room.)

Also I kind of skipped over a private little adventure that took place before the Market. Sally has been fighting off the beginnings of a cold, so Aaron asked if I would be willing to pick Sally up and drive to the event with her, while the others rode their bikes their. I was happy to do so, Aaron gave me directions to Sally's apartment (which at that point I had never been too), at first he kept trying to tell me to go south or east and other compass directions that I only ever get right when the sun is rising or setting. Still I insisted that he tell me which street I was heading towards instead and thought I had the directions clear in my head (and Aaron wrote them out for me as well just in case.) As my cell phone is still not properly working, he also lent me his just in case... it is a good thing he did. I missed my turn, and it quickly became apparent to me what had occurred because I was recognizing streets from walking them with Ben earlier in the day. I called Sally and she got me back on the right track. But my detour had sent me up some of San Francisco's famous steep hills, for which I had to practice my California Roll. Now let me preface this next bit with the fact that I am an extremely careful driver, especially traveling with out of state plates. As I came back down the hills, I would carefully slow down before each stop sign and light, however there was a sudden pedestrian walkway (the only one on this road without one of the aforementioned stopping symbols) which a pedestrian stepped into I stepped hard on my breaks as I was come down a steep hill and my tires squealed as my car did not want to stop. My Car did stop, and in reality I was in no real danger of hitting the person (especially since she hadn't gotten beyond the parked car on the side of the street when I started squealing which stopped her in her tracks) however I can tell you I was not so keen on those hills and a not so happy a person for a while after.

Anyhow, I was convinced by my siblings to stay on for an extra day to get more time to hangout with Aaron now that his bike was fixed. So Sunday morning, Beth and I walked to the market to purchase our portion of the supplies and then headed back to Sally's place for an amazing group cooking session leading up to a fantastic brunch of eggs, bacon, pancakes, fruit salad (and eventually Sally made Coffee Cake). The day was beautiful and we ate in the sun and we felt fully nourished as the food was filled with love in every bite. It is amazing how when care and effort are put into the food we make it tastes of love. It is why our mothers' and grandmothers' (not to mention fathers' & grandfathers' and other family members) recipes are always better then what you can buy from any store.

Sunday also happens to be the day that the Free Farm Stand is run. This is run by a man named Tree, who appealed to the city to be allowed to take over any unused gardening spaces to grow edible plants in place of flowers. He then working with volunteers, gathers whatever harvest he can each week both from his gardens and any other who is willing to donate food, which can be from private gardens to leftovers from big farms, (or even as was the case this Sunday leftover bread from bakeries) and sets up and hands out the bounty to any and all who show up. We walked over to the stand and partook from the offerings (particularly of the bread of which there were massive amounts) and then settled onto the grass beside the stand and basked in the sun enjoying the day. The coffee cake had not been done with the rest of the food, and we left in the oven when we headed to the Stand. Aaron and Sally ran back to the apartment to take the cake out on time (it wasn't far), when they came back they were carrying pieces of still warm from the oven coffee cake. We greeted them very joyously.

Eventually we decided it would be a good idea to head to Delores Park, a prime sunny day hang out spot in the city. By the time we reached the park however the day was slipping away, and the sun and warmth with it. On top of that a strong wind decided to start whipping through the city. We only stayed for a little while in the Park before going to tea to warm up. Afterward we headed back to respective apartments to get errands that had to get done done. I packed up my bags and made sure everything was in place so I could leave bright and early in the morning. I had decided to make (another) slight detour and head down to Monterey home of the Monterey Bay Aquarium, a well known and supposedly very good one. I made sure I had directions and decided which route to take to get there. Once everything was all set, I called Aaron and met up with him and Sally once more for yet more hanging out at Sally's apartment. Aaron and I walked out together and had our goodbye on the street corner. It had been a very good visit.

San Francisico Fun

2010-03-07T10:52:00.000-07:00

Days Five and Six

There are many many things happening in San Francisco, so many options of places to go, things to see, not to mention just hanging out with cool people like my siblings and their friends. After arriving in the city I just chilled and relaxed. The morning of day 5 my brother, Ben and I woke up fairly early and decided to get our day started right away. Beth fighting off a tenacious cold decided to go back to try and sleep to feel better. The day of the Ben was a blast, we headed to the Legion of Honor an art museum that Ben said he had never been too. Ben got us in for free with his museum pass and we wondered through exhibits such as the porcelain display which was all old china dishes hundreds of years old, and saw sculptures and paintings. My favorite was an oil painting of a young woman (probably Russian) getting ready for her wedding. There was so much going on in the painting that we couldn't help but try and tell the story.

The day outside was beautiful, so we couldn't stand to spend too much time indoors at the Legion of Honor, so we headed outside once more. The hill where the museum is located has wonderful views of the surrounding area including the golden gate bridge. And then as planned we made our way to Fisherman's Wharf to meet Aaron who works in that area.

Aaron met up with us without too much trouble and took us out to lunch at a "classic" San Fran eating establishment. "Salty's Famous Fishwich Stand" is known for exactly that its famous fishwich sandwich, of which Ben and Aaron shared 1 because it was so large. I opted for the fish and chips when I saw how large the fishwich was, but still ended up with a huge portion. Ben and Aaron were happy to help me finish it off though. Eventually Aaron had to head back to work and Ben and I heading back to his house for a quick break.

When we returned Beth headed off for a March about the educational cuts in California and after a quick rest, Ben and I followed after her to meet up with her and the Marchers for a Rally at the Civic Center. I was impressed with both the large number of protesters at the event and how many young people had come out to take part. Children in strollers, elementary students, middle school students, high school students, junior college, and community college students all made up a large percentage of the participants. Random friends of Beth and Ben also were taking part and we kept running into people unexpectedly leading to a very jovial fun atmosphere.

The next day, was the day of Beth as Ben had to work. We took ourselves out to the Botanical Gardens in the huge Golden Gate Park. The day was once again beautiful, if a tad chilly. As we strolled through the park we decided to search for the Fragrance Garden as a destination, but directions in the Botanical Gardens are not well marked so in the end we kind of drifted through to everywhere except for our planned location. We kept having amazing bird encounters as we traveled around the park. The first was with a brave Western Scrub Jay who landed on a tree near us and then moved progressively closer till only about a foot away from Beth and her outstretched hand before finally flying off.

Our success with the Jay was followed quickly with a conversation with a duck. As we walked on through the park I described to Beth the act of "Spishing" which mimics many songbird's alarm call and can sometimes cause the birds to come to investigate. We came to a small pond and spotting a Dark-eyed Junco I demonstrated for Beth. The Junco grew very excited and flew at us repeatedly as I "Spished" at it, diving away at the last moment each time. This was great because Spishing doesn't always work, because it is an alarm call sometimes the birds chose to fly away instead of investigating, but our day at the park it was almost too successful. (Also Beth made friends with a Coot at the pond.) The real issue was the large squirrels that don't seem to have any fear, even as Beth chased at the trying to scare them away also seemed to respond to the spishing requiring us on a few occasions to quit and run away as the squirrels came closer and closer after us.

The most fantastic of the bird encounters of the day came near the end, when after raiding the overgrown (obviously not thinned/harvested) edible garden for greens (shhh don't tell) we were once again searching for the Fragrance Garden aimlessly. Suddenly I saw something swooping low towards a tree near us and shouted look! Look! Look! Landing very near by was a Red-shouldered Hawk, and after a brief jump into the brush (probably to catch some food) he was back, before soaring across the field to yet another nearby tree where he went directly to his mate for a quick fertilization session and then the pair hung out in the tree for the rest of time we were there. The male did make a second foray to the tree nearby giving me plenty of photo opportunities.

Beth and I headed out of the park soon after. We headed back to Ben and Beth's apartment where we met up with Aaron so Beth could check out his bike which had been damaged in the morning. Then Sally joined us and we went out for dinner and I got a traditional San Francisco food, the fish taco. Then we relaxed and chilled as everyone was tired from their days.

More about my time in "The City of Sibs" soon!

Over, under, around and THROUGH...

2010-03-03T23:30:00.000-07:00

Day Four

First off before I forget Click HERE for the link to the rest of my photos from the trip.

Once again the down of a driving rainstorm woke me in the middle of the night, but luckily when I woke again in the morning the sun was shining brightly and the world had that brightly polished freshly cleaned feeling that only comes after a big storm. It was simply put a beautiful morning. I got a good start leaving just after 9 (even managing to sneak in a phone call to a friend in the east before heading out.)

The 101 at this point has turned into a freeway most of the time, a big 2 to 3 lane highway speeding along with a speed limit of 65mph. The roadside views in these sections, while still beautiful don't hold a candle to the vistas that had graced the more northern views I had past in previous days. Not to mention at those speeds a motorist doesn't have much opportunity to enjoy what is around them other then the road and the next curve. However early in the day the freeway would end with very little warning, the road would turn back into a 1 lane highway with signs warning drivers to slow to safe speeds around 30mph. Suddenly you are plunged into a different world.

The sun, which was shining so brightly a few moments before darkens to an emerald glow. In the space of a few breathes the open fields transform into ancient forest filled with monster moss covered trees. In those few moments you are transported through time, surrounded by trees that were already old when your grandparent's grandparents were young. The concept of time is hard to comprehend, there are examples we give in attempt to grasp just what old and ancient mean, most times it slips away like trying to grasp sand. But staring into this darkly beautiful landscape, straining your eyes to take in all of just one of these 'grandmother' trees an inkling can be gained... and from that seed perhaps a leap of our imagination can be made and maybe... just maybe we can gain an understanding of just what as old as the trees means.

Trees such as these have always fascinated me creatively, perhaps it was the fact that the Ewok movies (a pair of spin-off movies taking place on the planet of Endor of Star Wars fame {think fuzzy critters fighting robots in thick forest of huge trees}) was a favorite of mine as a child. However these trees took root in my imagination the concepts of living in a tree, either inside the trunk, up top in the branches, or in a burrow under the roots (as presented in the books "My Side of the Mountain", "The Swiss Family Robinson", and "Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian" respectively) it has been an idea that has stuck with me. I could not resist the desire to stop and look closer at these majestic beings, even though I wished to push through to my final destination of the day, San Francisco. I bypassed several tempting stops such as the tree house (a house built into the base of a red wood tree stump), and the 1 log house (a house built into a cut redwood log). But I couldn't say no to the drive-through tree.

It looks pretty small still... but look!

My car fits!

The rest of the day was driving through the rain (which had returned) on the freeway into the city. Followed by hanging with the siblings. But I'm in San Francisco now safe and sound and ready to explore a totally new kind of landscape.

Rain drops keep falling on my head

2010-03-02T21:55:00.000-07:00

Day Three

The rain started in the darkness, paired with a wailing wind that pulled me out of my slumber stare out the window of my motel room at the fierceness of the storm. I stumbled back to the bed and went back to sleep hoping that the rain would surely pass by the time the sun rose. Luck and weather was not with me today.

I got a late start hoping the rain would at least slow to a manageable patter, or at least lighten up a bit. It was after 10 by the time I headed out, but I wasn't too concerned as I had already made the decision that I was not going to push to reach San Francisco by that night. Even with the rain it didn't take long to cross the border to California. Which involved being stopped and having to open my car up for inspection to make sure I wasn't carrying any fruit, veggies or plants. (I knew there was a reason I didn't have any yesterday!) Luckily I didn't have much in the way of perishables and they were all in the front of the car where I could access them easily. (Though I did pop the trunk and had to deal with the difficulties involved with shutting it again... I managed to pinch my hand in it, ouch!) Immediately after crossing the border the landscape changed from the rocky seashore vistas, and twisty mountain passes that I had grown fond of (if never used too) in Oregon, to flat green farmland in Northern California.

It was already after noon as I spotted a sign advertising Ocean World, and thought it would be a good place to take a break. The rain had been falling without fail the entire morning, though the intensity varied from waterfall to why don't my windshield wipers go faster, so I was feeling the road a bit more then usual. Ocean World is the epitome of a tourist trap, where they draw you in with a promise of something unusual and exciting (in this case a chance to 'pet' a shark), and then make you wait in the 'gift shop' of useless crap for your tour to begin. I was a bit frustrated as I waited in the shop that looked exactly the same as the rest of the gift shops I had seen in every place I had stopped and I had a good 15 minute wait to cool my heels and look at stuff that wasn't even amusing anymore. Finally my 'guide' asked me if I was ready for my torture session to begin (exact quote). Grateful to get out of the crappy shop I was exuberant to say the least. I was led out of a door where only 1 other family stood waiting, apparently they had just finished their tour and where waiting for the last act. A smallish aquarium pool was open to the air was filled with a pair of harbor seals and a sea lion swimming happily around, luckily for us of the audience the pathway was covered as the rain continued to pour down. Our guide popped out and gave us what should have been the traditional sea lion/seal act except for the fact that the sea lion was very young and not as good at paying attention to her cues as expected and too our amusement doing silly things like going down the slide when she wasn't supposed too and playing with her fish before eating them. The guide's goodhearted frustration aided in making the show more then just the same show you always see.

My Guide with his charges

To my great pleasure, the other family that made up the audience had already had their tour, and I got the guide to myself. Just the two of us allowed the tour to take on a much more useful and realistic topics beyond the simple stuff that I already know about with my wildlife studies. Though we did go through the whole tide pool, this is a starfish before I managed to work in the fact that I had a wildlife background into the conversation. Which is probably how I ended up with my tongue on a sea anemone. Perhaps the tingling of my tongue loosened me up enough to chat with the guide in a more professional manner. (No jobs open though, before you ask if I asked.)

Getting my tongue stung... on purpose

It turns out Ocean World is an old barge that was converted into a roadside attraction aquarium, not the best material to make an aquarium out of but intriguing all the same. Turned out that my guide happened to be the head trainer, and had all sorts of interesting stories to tell about the difficulties involved in running a small aquarium like Ocean World. The best part about it, as with any experience like this one is he was truly excited and interested in his work and was enthusiastic about sharing about it. Not to mention he loved Amos, and along with being gobbled with a shark with me, he insisted that Amos meet Chesty La'vore. (See Picture...). Also made sure to have me introduce him to the woman running the front desk on my way out which lead to another enjoyable conversation about my adventures, this blog (and the fact that it is actually belongs to Amos and I'm just along for the ride!), and of course the now familiar refrain of wishes for good luck and safe journeying that every person who I meet and share my story with send my way. In the end everyone likes hearing about a good adventure!

I was told if I was eaten, then I better die big... so Amos and I tried our best

Amos with his new friend Chesty

My Ocean World experience with my guide's love of Amos made me realize that hiding the monster in my purse until I was ready to take a picture with him was silly, so after that I made sure to sit Amos up so he peeked out of my purse. I think this will change my approach to using him (and as I will get to later in the blog when I stopped for a second time, he was admired without me even having to pull him out.) I also lucked out, emerging from the location to see blue skies and sunlight. Though the rain did come back in and out during the day the worst of it was over and the driving became much easier. Not to mention just seeing the sun can be intensely heartening. And so once more I hit the road.

My second stop of the day was at a beautiful area of Redwood forest. I was anxious to stretch my legs and the area promised a short, and not to difficult hike that was supposed to take about an hour. The location was probably not the best example of the fantastic trees one can find in this area of the country but it felt good to move. The site also boasted a gondola ride called the Sky Trail, which the top boasted wonderful views of the surrounding area, and one could even spot the ocean through the trees in the distance. The gondola ride itself was beautiful and offered some good photo opportunities which I failed to optimize as the combination of the swinging of the car with the full views of the obvious elevation caused my fear of heights to kick in at full force. I was disappointed with myself, but at least I got my butt into the thing, so that's a step in the right direction. My favorite thing about the place was the last part of the trail which told the story of Paul Bunyan in wood carvings. It was obvious that it had been there for a while and felt a bit as if I was discovering ancient artifacts in one of my adventure stories.

Amos at the entrance

The Carvings

Amos is having a bad day when it comes to being eaten

Another Carving

Due to the weather I had not made good time for the day. My planning on how far I wanted to go for the day was not clear when I left in the morning other then the vague idea that I would drive south until I was tired and then stop. I felt as if I wanted to get farther then Eureka, California which was one of the town names I had remembered as a landmark/goal mark for the day. The 101 cuts right through the center of Eureka and I spotted several potential motels that looked promising, but it was only 4:30 and I wasn't ready to stop. So I kept driving. This turned out to not be my smartest move, because the part that I didn't remember about why I remembered Eureka was that I had noted that there was a very large stretch of road between it and the next town of any size. 5:30 rolled around and I started to feel the day, the 101 had turned into a freeway that now had exits (unlike previously where it just cut through the towns so you can actually see what your options are as you pass through). I tried an exit at Fortuna following signs that indicated that there were lodgings available and found only 1 place, which was way out of my price range. Frustrated and a little lost, I followed the GPS directions back to the highway. I tried again at the next exit sign baring any indication of lodgings. This location was even more out of my price range (close to $200 a night, though they offered to bring it down to $125 since it was off season.) however the B and B (that this location was) was run by a very nice couple who upon hearing my budget suggested that I carefully bypass the next two towns as they would only have similar options to them and head to Garberville which they promised was full of little motels. Following their advice I pushed on for another 20 minutes to the promised town and was able to find a motel for the night. Though I will note, that this location has a very odd towel fold. (Which is something I now pay attention too after spending so much time this past 6 months as a housekeeper.)

Funky Towel fold

Tomorrow I should reach San Francisco and meet up with my siblings and start my city adventures! Hopefully the weather will improve.

Amos makes some Big Friends... he's there I promise...

A Fur Raising Kind of Day

2010-03-01T22:17:00.000-07:00

Day Two

I got started a bit later then I planned, as I stopped to talk with the family that was living in the motel about my trip and the nature of the world we are currently living, in the morning. So it was nearly 10am by the time I really got rolling. The Pacific Coast Road, the US-101 is a historic scenic route, and for the first hour or so I could really tell it was historic as the road was in pretty bad condition with lots of potholes and other wear and tare. It was also twisty and beautiful. I took my time and was sure to go slow, as part of my morning conversation was about how many accidents occur on this particular road with careless drivers flying around curves at high speeds. High rocky cliffs to one side and spectacular drops into the ocean on the other, the drive was spectacular with many pull offs and more viewpoints then a person could care to count. I drove for only about an hour before pulling off into the suggest Sea Lion Caves.

At first the site seems just another pull off with fantastic views of the ocean with rocky spires popping out of the water like giant fingers, save for the building declaring that you are at the location of the biggest Sea Cave in the world (*whether this is true or not I do not know). Entering the building, you are surrounded by typical gift shop junk but after you purchase your ticket you take a series of stairs down back behind the building to yet more extraordinary ocean views, with signs explaining that it is a good location to spot gray whales in the summer. Following the signs down the path you come to a Elevator, which you take down 200 feet where you come out at the cave. The first thing that hits you is the pungent smell of salt and old fish, the second thing is the sound of barking sea lions and crashing waves. A fence separates tourists from the large number of Stellar Sea Lions that lay on the rocky outcroppings in the cave which is probably a good idea considering how stupid many people can be about wild animals (and how unpredictable and dangerous the same animals can be for stupid people). This is balanced by the fact that there are a good number of Camera "holes" cut into the fence so that photographers can put their lens beyond the the fence for better pictures (which are still hard since there is no flash photography allowed and the cave is pretty dark). There is not much else in the cave, beyond watching the sea lions, save for a steep climb up a series of stairs to an opening for photo opportunities of the near by lighthouse. However the sea lions themselves were wonderful enough to make the stop worth it, not to mention the beautiful surrounding landscape.

Sea Lion Cave

Back on the road, the day was more of the same with the landscape alternating between ocean views, marsh land, past a series of lakes, and through mountain pine forests all of it twisting and turning keeping a driver on their toes. Feeling that I was behind my nonexistent schedule I ate lunch while driving (PB&J Wrap, string cheese, crackers, and some beef jerky to round it out... at some point I should stop and get some fruit and veggies...). This definitely helped me to make up time, but I also found myself feeling tired after a while. I stopped and grabbed a coffee and a stretch at one of my rest breaks, but still felt droopy and knew that I was going to need to take a real break soon from driving to be safe. Luckily I spotted a sign saying the Wild Park was only a few miles away.

The pull off for this location looked like the traditional tourist trap, with a sign promising the "largest walk-through safari petting zoo on the west coast". I don't know what I really expected, but it ended up being a very fun break. Just as I arrived through the front entrance of the park an announcement rang through the air that in just a few moments some small animals would be out for guest to handle at the "nursery station". I took this to mean that someone would be holding out animals that people could pet, so I headed to location indicated. The keeper pulled out a pair of ferrets first and handed them right over the railing to those of us who were standing around. A cuddly sleepy ferret named Slippers was placed into my arms he then gave my hand a gentle bath. I was surprised, that the keeper would actually hand the animals to visitors (though he did give safety and handling instructions along with the animals), but at the park all the animals seemed to receive a ton of human interaction. The keeper in quick succession brought out Daisy, a Skunk and Spooks, an Opossum (who turned out to be my favorite). Spooks was very cuddly and had an expression that reminded me of a real like teddy bear. The skunk was not big on being picked up but wondered back and forth on the ledge allowing everyone to pet her. Spooks on the other hand got passed around and snuggled into my arms quite comfortably, and then demonstrated his tail hanging ability before going back to his safe place. All the animals were out at the same time, with only 1 keeper to watch them all, which kind of astounded me, but the keeper pointed out the ledge was too high for the skunk to jump, the opossum was very slow(and thus easy to catch when he ran) and the ferrets were trained to stay on the ledge.

Spooks the Opossum

After the keeper got all the small animals back into their enclosures he made another announcement and had us move to a new area. Here he pulled out a small 8 week old Leopard Cub named Diesel, gave us a brief explanation of how to handle him and then invited us in to hold him. I got to go first (there weren't more then 2 or 3 other groups around), and asked a gentleman if he would take pictures for me (he did). Diesel climbed into my lap and took his bottle for a bit and then sat for a bit before getting restless and hoping off to play once more. I then switched out and let the others into get their chance as well (but stuck around for a long while to take more photos and pet him some more when he was on the ledge.)
Diesel

I did finally go around to see the rest of the park and was glad I did. Lions, Tigers, and Bears! Not to mention Puma, Binturongs, Cayabaras, serval, a coatimundi, leaping lemurs (of the ring-tail variety), foxes, camels, and more. The Cats impressed me the most, perhaps because of my original interaction with Diesel, but all seemed intensely interested in interacting with me when I came by their cages. In one instance I took a few photos of the white tiger who was sitting on a bridge over a small pond in the middle of the enclosure, when I turned my back to head over to the more traditional Bengals in the next catch I heard an odd sound. When I turned back the white tiger had bounced from the original location over to the corner where I had just been standing, when I reacted to the change in location the tiger threw itself upon the ground rolling on its back sounding for all the world like it was purring. Almost all of the cats showed off for me coming to the front of their cages and showing me lots of activity making it exciting to take photos of them. My favorite interaction would probably be the young leopard that was in the cage next to where Diesel was being shown. The keeper had explained earlier that this Leopard was 7 months old, just past the age when they stopped using the animals for the lap and petting activities. Unlike the other cages there were no electric wires on the cage and when I came close to the fence to try and take photos around the fencing the leopard came up to the fence and rubbed against it asking for petting right in front of me. I obliged as best as I was able. The park was not huge, but me being me in any place with animals I spent a long time there. Realizing that I really should push on, I said goodbye and continued on my way.

Siberian Lynx

Leopard

Binturong

White Tiger

Bengal Tiger

Puma

The rest of the day's drive was the same and I pushed on till the weather started to turn rainy and nasty (it had rained briefly in the morning when I first left for about 15 minutes, and then had remained cloudy and overcast for the rest of the day). So I decided to call it quits for the day in the town of Gold Beach, Oregon about an hour from the 1st town over the California State Line. With a little over 400 miles to San Francisco (approximate 8 and a half hours of driving) I plan on once again taking my time and stopping to see the sights along the way, and will probably not make it all the way to my first major stopping point of my journey till Wednesday.

The Journey Begins with just one step...

2010-02-28T21:16:00.000-07:00

Day 0ne of my grand adventure.

The panic I felt the past few days seems to have subsided as the wheels of my car hit the highway. As hard as leaving my tiny little apartment was emotionally, when I left it was as empty and bare as when I first arrived, reminding me of how afraid I was when I first arrived in it. The kitchen was ridiculously small, with no oven and the stove top and sink sharing the same surface, there was a ladder to get up and down between the levels, for which I had rigged a bucket to pull stuff up so my hands could be clear for climbing. But it had become my home and I adjusted to the difficulties of the place, I learned you could still bake a quiche in a toaster oven, but give your self some extra time if you are making more then one because you can only cook 1 at a time, & I learned when I'm drunk and very brave I can slide down the ladder faster by just bracing my feet against the handrails and trusting gravity. I find that I am not sad to leave the apartment behind me, but I am also glad that I landed there for it was a very good home for me, a place of happy memories, even when I was exasperated with it.

The first 45 minutes or so of the drive were familiar since it was the same way I drove to head to Yakima. It has always been a beautiful drive full of stunning vistas of hilly scrub desserts dropping into sudden valleys all backed in the distance by the snow covered peaks of Mt. Rainer and Mt. Hood. The sun was shining, a wonderful blessing considering that most of the week it had been raining in Ellensburg, to the point that I was a day behind in packing the car because of the intensity of the rain. I passed beyond lands known fairly quickly, and at first the views were similar to what I already knew, gradually as I headed up into the mountains the landscape changed to pine forests and rocky crags.

And then with little warning you take a very twisty exit to enter the I-84, and if you are like me your jaw drops to your lap. I only wish that there was a pull over so that I could have stopped to take pictures. The view is stunning, the exit ramp is a series of hairpin turns which forces the driver to concentrate on not driving off the road, and then suddenly you turn through one and before you opens a panorama of a deep blue body of water spanned by a bridge with arches with a backing of huge red and green cliffs of the mesa style. Let me tell you, it doesn't help you focus on keeping your car on the road or going the speed limit...

That stretch of road from where I entered I-84 heading into Oregon up till you get close to Portland is one of the most spectacular that I can remember driving through. The area is called the Columbia River Gorge and if you are ever driving in that area of the country it is definitely worth a detour. Though sorely tempted I did not stop in the area as I had set myself the goal of pushing through to reach the often praised Pacific Coast Road US-101 a grueling 7 hours from my morning starting point. I enjoyed the drive through I-84 immensely as you can tell from all my babbling praise about it.

Once I hit Portland and changed onto I-5 the road turned into a typical looking boring highway. It reinforced my thought process of taking the longer route to San Fran on the 101, driving alone with nothing but strip malls in view I'm likely to fade from boredom. Strip malls do have the advantage of having food, and I stopped for lunch at a typical Denny's style restaurant to both refuel my personal fuel tank and also gain a respite from the driving. Lunch wouldn't have been anything to write home about, except for the kind waitress who upon seeing that I was eating alone sat down across from me and chatted with me about my adventure. She is a true example I think of how people think about undertaking a journey like the one I am on. First thing she asked when she found out that I was traveling alone with my whole life in a box on wheels was about my safety. Did I carry mace? Was I careful at rest stops? Now in all things there are risks, but the chances that something is going to happen to me (in terms of being attacked/abducted/etc.) are slim. People forget that most other people are kind and nice, like my waitress who did a simple small kindness of sitting down and chatting with me for a few minutes. On the road meeting strangers and making friends of them is part of the adventure... seems to me that taking this journey alone increases the need to talk to strangers or else one would be very isolated for potentially a long time... making me the more likely one to snap and be the one that someone else would need to carry mace for...

Anyway after that philosophical detour let us get back to the journey that really matters. I exited the I-5 for the very twisty US-20. I got to pass through towns with both familiar (Albany) and unfamiliar (Philomath) names, the trees lining the road where covered in thick green moss and felt like they would have fit in magnificently with Jurassic park. It was a bit like traveling back in time. The curved and twisted following small streams and railroad tracks and occasionally rocky outcroppings, till finally it spilled out into Newport the town I had set as my goal when I left in the morning. The sky was still light, so I decided that I would push on a bit farther and jumped onto the US-101 which failed to indicate which way was north and which was south, so I took a guess and started driving. After about 15 minutes or so I had a feeling that I was heading the wrong direction that was not helped by the sudden appearance of the ocean with the sun slowly sliding towards it one the same side of the car that I had noted the sun rising on in the morning. I pulled into a parking lot of a public beach (which was beautiful by the way) and after admiring the view for a few moments turned to ask a couple who where heading to their car for compass directions. As expected I had turned the wrong way and was traveling north, so I turned around and headed back towards Newport. The original plan to push on to the next town seemed like more then I could handle as I had been up with the sun at 7am (actually before, but tried to get a little more sleep) and was now nearing 5pm. I had put in about 8 hours of traveling, so when I spotted a little motel touting the "best rates in town" I decided to pull in and check it out. The rates were certainly with in my price bracket so the Willers Motel is my home for the evening... I can even spot the ocean from my window... abet barely over the roofs of about 3 blocks of buildings... but still I can't complain.

Sorry for the lack of photos today... I did take some but not enough for uploading to be worth it tonight...

Jumping without Looking

2010-02-26T20:20:00.000-07:00

With one day of packing and preparing left before starting on the newest adventure the future is more murky then I can ever remember it being for me before.

In case you didn't know (which is possible because I kept putting off writing about here at Adventures...) I am moving to Prescott, Arizona. Pulling up the shallow roots that I had tentatively put down here in Ellensburg, Washington, because I knew it was time to make a change. Of course me being me, I went for the big change instead of trying for a smaller simpler method. So I decided what region I thought I might like, and threw a few darts in that direction. (If you didn't already know they were digital darts, not really ones). I threw a few since I had a couple qualifications about where I was willing to live, such as it had to be a big enough town that I would be able to find work, have young people to make friends with, and have things to do. Also after a frustrating winter in the Washington mountains that felt more like Maryland's freakish rain/ice/snow/slush/ice temperament (I understand someone must have switched winters on us) I was/am disgusted with cold weather and wanted to live somewhere warm. Thus I aimed for the New Mexico/Arizona area and ended up with Prescott.

Fate must have been with me because almost immediately after the dart landed and I posted a quick comment on facebook to attest that fact of where I was planning on heading, I learned that my cousin Danny was at that very moment in Prescott for a job interview. So not only does the town fit all of my requirements it has the add bonus of having family close by.

I made the decision about 2 months ago to move, and then slowly but surely have worked to get all the pieces in place for the move. Unfortunately I don't feel nearly as prepared as when I left Baltimore to come to Ellensburg, though a good portion of that is probably me blocking the memories of me stressing out about that trip... also I had the car's issues to focus on as the major problem. Still the time I spent on mapping out the route across the country the first time was a big deal, and other then a quick look initially to figure out approximate times I have not sat down with a map to plan anything other then the fact that I plan to take the longer trip that takes me through San Francisco to visit my siblings this time around. Added to the rainy weather slowing the packing of my car and the fact I still have to scrub the apartment clean before I leave makes me feel like I have a lot to do before heading off into the sunrise on Sunday. Not to mention the issue that terrifies me the most... lack of address in Prescott. Yeah, still haven't nailed down an apartment in the new town yet. It freaks me out a lot even though I know it is not the worst thing to happen, after all I can camp, there are hotel rooms, and potential family (who have showers that I can probably gain use of if I'm camping out or otherwise attempting a hippy-esque plan.) Not to mention a potential work exchange program in Tuscan, where I could stay in exchange for working as a housekeeper for 3 shifts a week in a hostel. And also plenty of time to work it all out before I arrive in Prescott. My original thinking had me planning to stay in San Fran for only 2 or 3 days, but without a landing pad in place I could stay for a few more days before hitting the road again, and really explore lands between San Fran and Prescott. Exotic places like Vegas, or even heading to Grand Canyon and spend a few days really exploring one of the world's great wonders. There are advantages of waiting till I reach my new home to nail down a new apartment, such as actually being able to meet potential roommates and seeing actual apartments. So as freaked out as I am to leave my home in Ellensburg without a new home in place, I know it will all work itself out.

So right now my crystal ball is cloudy, no home, no job, no real plan... but you know what? I'm ready. I'm excited. And yeah also afraid... but hey, isn't that the point?

So Sunday morning, the sun will rise and I will shove the last few belonging into the car and then plant my butt into the driver's seat and head off for adventure. Not alone of course, because always at my side is my trusty traveling companion, Amos. Cause after all the blog is called the Adventures of Amos and Friends... so like all of life's great journeys I'm just along for the ride.

Ride 'em Cowboy!

2009-10-06T10:18:00.000-07:00

(Picture: Ellensburg Rodeo)

So I'm long over due for posting anything about my adventures in E'burg... but will give an excuse even if it isn't a good one. I've been working my butt off since July. I mean that literally, at a doctors appointment 2 months ago I had lost about 30 lbs since starting in July (I don't own a scale so I couldn't tell you if I've lost any more or not, but I have had to tighten my belt some more, so chances are good.)

So I've been working 6 days a week, most days working overtime, with 9 to 10 hour shifts with occasionally ones running over 12 hours. Thankfully the slow down that they claimed was coming for the last 2 months is finally arriving and I got two days off in a row this week, a first except when I had requested days off (which meant I was doing specific things on those dates, in other words not relaxing or recovering from working so hard.) It is supposed to stay slow for the next month and a half, and then pick up again for the Christmas season, which of course starts around Thanksgiving. They are going to be keeping everyone on as permanent staff as of October 15th although as part time employees which mean no health benefits. I glad of this because it means I'll be having some income, but more time to actually spend on the job hunt, which while I have been pursuing, I have not spent as much time and effort as I would like, due to working so much and so hard, and knowing I have had the safety net of a paycheck coming into my account. (And I'm frugal, so most of each check gets saved for the future.) Enough about work! It is boring, and it takes up way too much of my time as is.

My travel companion Laura, headed back East at the end of August to a job monitoring animal kills by wind turbines. Ironically the town she now lives in is Ellensburg, New York. So she moved from Ellensburg to Ellensburg. Before she left though, we did make an additional journey to Seattle where we visited my sister Beth, and hit all the pertinent landmarks... well the ones we thought were worth seeing at least.

Pictures of Seattle

(Pictures Include: Science Fiction Museum, Seattle Aquarium, Space Needle, Olympic Sculpture Garden, Seattle Public Library, and Pikes Market)

It was a good trip, and especially good to see Beth, a first since she had left for Guatemala. (We are talking over 6 months of no sister time!)

In other adventures that I never got around to blogging about when they occurred, I went to the local County Fair and saw my first ever Rodeo. The fair was small and felt fairly unimpressive to me, who has always had easy access to the Maryland STATE fair, but it was still fun and I got to eat my fair favorite, corn dogs.

Now the Rodeo was something else entirely. It was a blast! My favorite event was the wild cow milking. The event runs like this: two men team up. #1 man gets on his horse and ropes a wild cow that has never been milked before (or at least attempts to rope). Once the cow is roped, #2 man runs out and grabs wild cows head and attempts to control the animal. #1 man jumps off horse, picks up bottle and runs over to cow and tries to milk the wild cow and get enough milk that at least a few drops would fall out when over turned, then run the filled bottle over to the judges (who then do the test to make sure enough milk was gathered) and it all has to be done in under a minute.
(Pictures: Wild Cow Milking)

Of course there are the more known events like the bucking broncos, barrel racing, and the bulls and those were pretty awesome too. I guess I have a new odd sport to add to my list of favorites (after woodsmen team of course!)

Pictures of the Fair and Rodeo

I'm doing well out here, making lots of new friends. I had great high holidays and was very welcomed in to the local synagogue. Even if they did call the morning of Kol Nidre and ask me to pinch hit the actual Kol Nidre prayer. (Yeah, that's right they called me at about 11 to say will you sing this very difficult prayer at 7.) Thankfully my Mom had my back, (she has sung the prayer for several years now) she sent me words, and even more importantly took the time to record herself singing the prayer (it is a good thing that is her part of her retirement plan!) and sent it too me. I was able to upload the recording to my Ipod (which has been acting up, but thankfully decided to work that day.) I then stuck my earphones in my ear and Sang along with my mother's voice once actual prayer time came round. I trembled like an aspen leaf and didn't look up from my transliteration words once, but I made it through. (And got compliments for my trouble.) I even got adopted during the break of Yom Kippur day services, and hung out at another congregant's home. (Risa, an intelligence officer in the Navy, also new to the area and synagogue, and totally invited me to call up any time to get together for theme shabbot dinners... such as spaghetti and spaghetti westerns.)

So life is good. Happiness and joy seem to hover in the air (well most of the time at least.) I'm looking forward to the start of November (and National Novel Writing Month - NaNoWriMo to those who know, which means write-ins and more potential gatherings with more potential new friends. So I tried not to drag on too long, but with NaNoWriMo approaching I start having a hard time keeping word counts down, so I apologize.

Love, Laughter, and Joy to all!

Sp-egg-tacular

2009-07-13T15:25:00.000-07:00

Time in Ellensburg ticks on and I continue to discover new things about my new home. Every walk around town is an adventure to discover some place new. It is a beautiful place to be, the mountains peaking out along the edge of the valley. One of these weekends Laura and I will take a trip out to Mt. Rainer and then we will really have some pictures to show you.
(Pictures of Ellensburg & surrounding area)
Mountains (drive towards Thorp)
Liberty Theater at Dusk
(Just a block from my apartment)

One of my favorite things about Ellensburg so far is the farmer's market. After working on the farm I had already gained a higher opinion of buying food (especially produce) locally. The market here in town is an event every week. People come from all around to shop and get their supplies for the week. The produce is beautiful, I've bought lettuces, carrots, golden beets, cucumbers, tomatoes, and peas in the last few weeks (just to name a few items). We have had beautiful delicious salads every night to go along with my cooking attempts (I'm learning slowly but surely).
(picture of market)

So obsessed with my veggies, I even planted a container garden. (I spoke a little about it before, I think.) The soil is no good, so I've had to plant in pots. I've got a tomato, beets, carrots and now a small basil plant.
(garden pictures)
Planting the Garden
Tomato
Seeds sprouting 01
Seeds sprouting 02

As obsessed as I am with the fruits and veggies from the market, I have a greater obsession with another item that I have been purchasing each week. It began with simple curiosity, the vendor had the traditional chicken eggs, but she also displayed duck and goose eggs. I purchased half a dozen duck eggs, seduced by the cracked eggs on display with the comparison colors side by side. The yolk of the duck egg glistened a rosy orange, deep and rich, liquid gold. I returned to the apartment with my new ingredient and soon tried them out.
(Yolk comparison photos)
Duck Egg Yolk
Chicken Egg Yolk
Color comparison
(dark orange is duck)

They tasted like egg... just as one would suppose, yet at the same time it was richer, thicker, MORE.

We quickly used up our supply of duck eggs and I was stuck using the sad grocery store chicken eggs. Still my obsession with the eggs remained and I found myself sadly using the store eggs to make Quiche. My quiche was a bit pale for my tastes... it should have been bright yellow in color but instead seemed closer to white...(though it still tasted good, if I don't say so myself). I can imagine my quiche made with duck eggs, the rich creamy flavor, the texture on my tongue... future quiches will be planned around buying eggs from market... (I made it specially for having our neighbor Teresa over to get to know her better. She's a very nice person and also new to Ellensburg.)

This week we bought chicken eggs along with our duck eggs. The shells of the eggs ranged in color from rich deep browns to creamy whites, some with speckles, some without. I cracked the egg hard against the side of the frying pan. The shells were thick, feeling almost as if they had a double layer of the strong yet fragile protective skin. Where the store bought eggs were pale yellow, like the color of the sun on a cloudy hazy day and the duck eggs were a reddish orange, the market chicken eggs' yolks were the color of rich golden butter.
(photos of eggs)
Chicken Eggs
Chicken Egg
Duck Egg
comparison between Chicken(brown) & Duck Eggs
Thick duck egg shell

Something about these eggs have inspired art from me... now all I can think about is what other egg recipes could I modify and use the duck eggs for. I'll take suggestions if you got them...

yes... that would be "egg"cellent...