Hold your breath now

There was so much beauty on that Arizona trip to Sedona that I think I took over 300 photos. I deleted a few, but the natural beauty of this harsh land lends itself to the most amateurish of us. The weather was variable and one day we even got caught in a light rain and I had an umbrella in my back pack which I used. It was exotic being in the desert during a light spring rain.

If I was a geologist I would point out that "Major depositional episodes occurred in the later Paleozoic, Paleocene, Miocene and Quaternary periods." According to the local tourist page this beauty was "formed from ancient deposits of limestone, mudstone and sandstone when this area was the west coast of a still emerging continent." Hey were are talking 2 billion years here folks. Think about that as you smoke your peace pipe and gaze out over the valley and watch the bluejays perform their mating swoops. We are such a little teeny tiny blip on the surface and in the grand scheme of things. And while we are quite lovely, we don't hold a sparkle to this beauty.



Sometimes you will see granite that formed from the volcanic explosions that has layered over the exposed red sandstone. The exotic presence of this violent geology seems to attract psychics and spiritualists from everywhere. They feel the overwhelming presence of locked time and try to grasp its meaning, share its energies, explain its strength, feel its vortexes. But we are too small and we try too hard (and the commercial exchange of money for this is most annoying).

I reduced the size of the pictures, so I apologize if the digital rendition is compromised. And where you may ask does the red come from?...iron oxides.

The next lesson is on botany and involves tree bark...yes more photos of tree bark that are like Monet or Pissaro paintings. I can hardly wait!

Early to bed, and better yet, early to rise!

There is a bit of tension between those folks who are up bright and early like eager squirrels ready for their daily nut hunt and those who role out of bed late wondering why their gray matter is so sluggish and why they can't find the coffee pot.

I am a squirrel and usually up at 5:15 getting my shower, dressed and then making a quick cup of French Press java to carry with me as I walk the few blocks to the office. I left the apartment at 6:00 this morning, and everything went as usual, until I reached the steps up to the parking lot. Something was odd...what was I missing...oh.. yes, that great cup of coffee had been left on the kitchen counter.

I was over half-way to the office, so, since my walk takes me right by the Caribou Coffee store, I decide to get a cup from them. The lights were on low toward the back of the store, but the door was unlocked. There were two people ahead of me waiting for their order to be taken, and the two java vendors were busy setting out all the carbohydrates for "breakfast on the run" and getting the paper cups stacked. They seemed to take their time taking orders. First the woman in front got her coffee. I wasn't paying much attention when the man in front of me got his coffee. Good, me next.

"I want a 16 ounce Fireside." I looked at the young man in the dreadlocks behind the counter.

He turned and proceeded to fill my order while I reached for my wallet.

He handed me the coffee and then shook his head. "No charge. Technically we are not open, so it is free this early."

Geese mareese, I have been way too efficient in the mornings...making my own coffee and all.

Where were you when?

Remember when the Dixie Chicks got trashed for speaking their minds? Where in the h*** was Donald Trump then? The master of the opportunity, oh yeah, he speaks out now??

Weather or not

"Everyone talks about the weather but no one does anything about it." ...or so it is said. (The Parks Ranger said this was a rare purple flower...can't remember if he said the name and I simply cannot find it on the Internet. I stumbled across it several times while hiking, so methinks it is not that rare.)

Well we can't say that anymore about the weather...can we?


Guess who is changing the global weather, big time? Yep, we are. We are talking more about the weather because we are doing something about it. Not proactively, but certainly reactively.

Those of you who are not able to afford beachfront property, if you live less than a mile from the coast just wait.


Above are photos of some of the first blossoms that I was able to photograph in the Arizona Sonoran desert. This is the third year of a major drought that has confronted the flora and fauna.

Below is someone I have only seen in cartoons. Catching this shot was a 3/10s of second feat with my head cranked backwards in the front seat of the car. Therefore, it is not a great photo. He CAN run!

Water and the surface of living things.

As a human being I have been told many times to make sure to drink lots of water because it makes skin look better. This directive does not seem to apply to desert trees. Look at this beautiful bark below on this sycamore.

No water and yet the bark of the Manzanita or Mountain Driftwood is like flowing red ribbons in the desert air.

Below the trunk of the same species gives you a better look at how lovely the deep brown-red bark can be with access to so little water.

Here is a Manzanita lifting weights!

I think that this is the Alligator juniper below. It was tall and shady along one of the hiking trails we took. It's bark looks just like the photo...sharp and rough.

And finally the bark below is the underside of the roof (restored) of a traditional house for the Sinagua (meaning without water) Indians that started extensive agricultural communities in the valleys, on the hill sides and at the tops of hills and disappeared suddenly from the Arizona valleys many many years ago.

Travel is REALLY so much fun! LifeStory #8

I have to admit that I have traveled LOTS and LOTS in my life. I have traveled across the United States, throughout ASIA and even somewhat in Central America and Europe and Northern Africa. This was due to a promise I made to myself as a young girl that I would see as much of the world as I could, come hell or high water. And, after all of these trips, the airlines has lost my luggage only once. This was on my first trip to my new in-laws in Florida. I didn't panic too much because at 24 you can still look good in clothes that you have been wearing for 24 hours. With the luck of being young, the very next morning a van arrived at my new in-laws door and dropped off the suitcases intact and locked.

I was watching the Today Show a few weeks ago and they were talking about lost luggage. The guest expert was providing tips for when the airlines lost your luggage. He repeated the word "when" and emphasized that he did not say "if."

If you live and travel long enough the world changes and your luck changes. Upon our arrival at our airport in the early evening this past weekend, we noticed a large number of people waiting for their bags at one baggage claim. We lined up like penguins and waited and watched as the intermittent and sometimes static aluminum delivery belt went round and round. After 20 minutes my husband realized that our luggage had not made the transition from Phoenix to Denver to Columbus and to our final destination. (When you travel on 'points' you get to see a lot more of the country than you can imagine or actually want to see.) . Shortly after my husband's realization, there was an announcement on the loudspeaker system that the baggage officials (hiding behind the speakers) were very sorry but they did not know where the luggage from the Philadelphia flight was. They were working on it and they asked for patience. About 50% of the people moaned, groaned and wandered off. We were not on the Philadelphia flight and while wondering how an airline can lose all of the luggage on a flight, we became more concerned about our sweaty but well-packed clothes.

We were rewarded almost an hour later with a blue form to complete regarding our missing luggage. (One of the wives asked her husband if this meant they would get a free flight---she hasn't traveled much I was thinking.) I walked the length of the entire baggage claim area which is about two football fields and I hate to tell you that I saw hundreds and hundreds (not exaggerating) of suitcases and bags that sat on the floor forlornly alone next to baggage claim areas on that Sunday evening. The dozens of strollers alone made me sad for the aching arms of mothers and fathers in our nation.

The announcement that we had been recently moved from yellow to orange in our homeland security settings (much like the settings on your oven) did not assure me in any way as I saw all these potential lethal weapons of mass destruction sitting on the floor as far as the eye could see.
Thus, we went home and to bed.

Hubby got a call at 1:00 P.M. on Monday. "This is United. Are you going to be home for the next 4 hours? " When he answered "Yes." they hung up. They were either planning on delivering luggage or robbing us. So, he waited patiently.

Five hours later I was home and had eaten dinner and there is still no luggage. Hubby called the number that had called him at 1:00 and heard from a computer that they were too busy to answer the phone and to call back later. My guess is that the all-great office of baggage losers had been discovered and passengers were holding them hostage.

After this recent trip, I wondered if the wagon trains crossing the desert had it any easier? I really think that the good ole USA is getting to be more like a developing nation each and every day. It is a good thing I have traveled in the 'third' world or I would have said some of the things that were being said at the airport last night when people headed for their taxis empty handed.

Post Script at 6:00 P.M.

Hubby is currently talking to a computer.....

Now he is talking to someone who clearly lives in India or Pakistan...

Now he is listening to very irritating United Airlines music ...good choice on their part to continually remind us of the company that screwed up...

9:10 P.M. the phone rings. Our luggage has arrived and doesn't appear much the worse for the wear. I wonder where it got to travel?

Loved to Death

On some of the days the sky in the desert was an indescribable blue. Have you ever seen such a color? I didn't do any digital tweaking and for once the camera lense captured what I saw against the white bark of this desert sycamore. The green in the center is mistletoe. They must do a lot of kissing in Arizona, because it was everywhere. (Click the photot for a bigger view.)

The mornings were a cool 45 and by afternoon Sedona hills were warming to a toasty 70 degrees. Perfect weather for hiking if you layered your clothes.


We had not been to Sedona, Arizona for almost a decade and I noticed substantial changes starting with the fifteen minute traffic jam to get to the other side of the hill where we were staying upon our arrival. This place in the desert among the red rocks is being loved to death by soul searchers, mystics, retirees, real estate developers, bike riders, hikers (us), rich Californians and tourists from around the world. The year-round population of Sedona is supposed to be about 12,000 but this is followed by the statement that over 4,000,000 tourists visit each year. The city of Pheonix to the south is growing even faster.

In spite of the initial shock we were able to get away from it all and find some restorative hours studying the flora and fauna each day. We packed light lunches and extra water and always found a challenging or not-so-challenging trail to fill our day.

I still have over 300 photos to sort, but will not post them all here.

On Another Way

I will be leaving tomorrow for my Dad's memorial service. I love him too much to write about this. Most good writers get their feelings and thoughts down and come to some growth and realization as well as a beautiful written memory. I will have to write about this much later. I have many regrets and pain and just CANNOT share it. I may be a coward but I just need time. So enough on that.

Now for some random thoughts that are keeping me sane.

1. How do you think Al and Tipper's evening went and what were they thinking when they ate dinner with people who use double-sided tape to get dressed?

2. I may never retire, with today's stock market free-fall. Have you bought anything made in the United States lately? Most of my new furniture, towels and sheets came by way of China even though I purchased from U.S. firms. I guess you can't manipulate the market forever! Wonder where this leaves Bush's private retirement accounts idea?

3. I will not get a lifetime achievement award in my field (as my husband has recently gotten) when I retire unless not killing an immature twit that I work with counts as a mature gesture on my part. I am still trying very hard to kill her with kindness and this gesture deserves some type of reward, don't you think?

4. Now the US Center for Science in the Public Interest says that chain restaurants routinely serve "A 2,000-calorie appetizer. A 2,000-calorie main course. Another 1,700 calories for dessert." While I am smart enough to know the caloric dangers of eating in a restaurant and frequently split entrees or desserts with my hubby, I am a little sruprised at these numbers! Shouldn't we get a little truth in advertising on the menus? After all, this isn't a once a year visit to Roy's, my favorite restaurant.

5. Whoopee! Spring is coming. After my memorial long weekend with my family, my husband and I are escaping to Arizona using up some 'points'. Please tell me you want to see a few of the lovely photos I will take of the very unique area where I will be staying.

Then again, perhaps not....

It is just around the corner....

Devilment

Dealing With It

8:30 A.M. and Tabor was running late on an already full day. A morning doctor's appointment followed by a ten mile drive and two afternoon meetings. These days she had a second job as back-up for a departing colleague. Two jobs and her time was always overfilled. She wouldn't have been late except for the 6:00 AM phone call. That call resulted in several other phone calls all of which took more precious time. Time she didn't have. Also she was moving slowly and without energy because for some reason she woke up at 2:00 A.M. after just a few hours of sleep. She found herself lying in bed --wide awake. Never really got back to sleep.

The trip to the doctor's was way back in her old neighborhood. Morning rush hour was in full play and she had to squeeze her little car between two big SUVs. Although she was driving back to the old neighborhood, she found it irritating that the new buildings and road changes were confusing. This confusion seemed to happen to her more often these days, and it was irritating. She began to realize that her distracted mind needed to concentrate or she would miss the turn.

Arriving at the doctor's office 20 minutes early gave her time to make some calls to work to let people know of her changed schedule. Too much sympathy and chit chat. Just make sure that the right people get the changes. Just need to get through this day.

She liked this doctor and had gone to him for years. He asked how she was and she provided the usual 'fine.' He didn't really want to know and she didn't really want to start the conversation. Four clinical breast massages later he called the nurse into the room and Tabor took the 'position.' God this was painful this time! It felt as if he was inserting pointed knives. Tabor bit her lip as tears streamed down her face. Doc E. apologized and did try to be more gentle. Tabor commented that getting old was the pits. She knew if she didn't stop these tears they would flow like melting snow. Doc E. asked again if she was OK. Tabor smiled and winced.

It wasn't until she got to the technician who was taking her blood later that the how-are-you question was answered honestly. Tabor was surprised that she was able to say directly to this perfect stranger that her father has passed on last night. Now she had said it three times this morning. Once to her husband, once to the secretary at work and now to this perfect stranger. Since it didn't get any easier, Tabor decided she wasn't going to say it anymore.

Tabor dealt with things in the cliched fashion of not thinking about it, not talking about it, not retrospectively writing about it, not dwelling on it. It was over. The long battle of hospitals and IV's and feeling guilty because her brothers and sister and sister-in-law bore the heavy burden was passing. Tabor felt relief. But she wouldn't tell her family that. They wouldn't think her honest...just cold. She knew that she would be dealing with this in bits and pieces in years to come. But that was the only way she could swallow it right now.

Now for the call to the kids...Tabor realized she had to say it again.

Microclimates

Looking at the scenery from the car window as we headed down to the 'house on the rivah' we were given an interesting lesson in weather patterns. Our starting point was bitterly cold and the land was covered in about an inch of white snow covered by a crust of ice---like a white chocolate covered vanilla ice cream bar.

After we had gone about 10 miles the snow disappeared and the land was covered in a silvery glitter with dirty mounds of earth peaking through the farm fields.

Then after another 10 or 15 miles the land was clear of ice, but the trees and shrubs looked as if they had been painted with silver paint. The sun was bouncing off the sices of the branches making it look like a forest of minimilist Christmas trees.

As we reached the last ten miles, the trees resumed their normal winter gray dullness but when I looked at their base I saw broken silver bits of glass beneath the branches in a circle like a round lace petticoat.

When we reached the river, it was frozen over and mirrored even more beautifully the various sunlight angles and shades of the late afternoon. At times the view from the window was a watercolor painting. There was a small pocket at one end of the river that had not frozen over and the geese were using this area as their strategic starting and stopping point.

(By the way, Weary Hag, is back. They always come back, sooner or later...hee, hee. It is nice when friends move back into the neighborhood.)

And Life Goes On

Being responsible for a wonderful newly manufactured human being for an entire weekend is rewarding, daunting, exhausting, instructional and life-changing. He has been to our house before and didn't mind at all being there without the parental unit. (That is except for the Saturday nap time when he managed to get out of the Pac-n-play shortly after being put down. The Pac-n-play was totally upright as was Xman when I went in ten minutes later to check on him! Those of you who know what I am talking about will smile as well as gasp...the little guy is not yet two!)

Each day we spent some time outside in spite of the cold weather. He is an outside guy. My walk on saturday was just down the road. Hubby took Xman for a "boatride."


There were lots of hiding games including at least twice when one or both of us had a minor heart attack when we could not find the little tyke ANYWHERE!! He is quiet and stealth-like, a real challenge. I THOUGHT our house was a reasonable size, but when a little guy hides the house becomes huge and daunting.


Everywhere Xman went---so did Big Bear. Just like Christopher Robin.

Early on Saturday it was a real pleasure to watch him discover one of his favorite celestial bodies---the moon.

Here he is calling to his grandfather to come see this wonderful miracle.

Frivolous Friday

1.
"Learn the best colors, bedding,
furniture, lighting, accessories
and more for creating a
hotel-inspired bed and bath »"

The above is text from a link from a HGTV email that I received yesterday. I had to read it twice to make sure that I read it correctly. Maybe I am missing something, but the last feeling I want to create in my house is that I am still on the road in that “luxury” hotel. I want a home that is inspired by me, myself and I, and doesn't reflect in any way a ‘mass luxury’ design. They also had a section on “Decorating in Red.” I’ve got news for them…that is so yesterday. Orange and burned rust is the new red and anyone with any design sense knows that!

2. We have Xman for the whole weekend. What DOES one do with a high energy 20-month-old when you can't take him outside?

3. My favorite (and only) son came to dinner last night. A big deal for me as I see him on average every other month or even less. He is working on audio-engineering some training videos for the government. The feedback to our illustrious leader from parents who have lost their children in the war is that the people who bring the news are pretty green in age and really not prepared well to handle this very difficult task. So now some new training videos are being created. My son says they are actually pretty well done. Wouldn't it be nice if he got a paycheck for some other type of training video---any other?

4. My week at work has been exhausting. It is either boredom or a flat-out race in this job of mine. I hope I am still alive by retirement time. Several personnel changes have put everyone on edge.

5. I accidentally sent an email to the wrong person about picking up a new server for deployment in our office. The other person was a little panicked because they had heard through the rumor mill their program might be shut down and they thought we were getting their server! She was relieved to learn it was just my crappy typing.

6. I got some bad news in the mail yesterday...but can't write about it...not just yet. Therefore, I am writing about everything..but

7. And finally BRRRRRR, BRRRRR, BRRRRR!

The End of the World?

Go here for a spectacular photo.

The Oldest Profession

Well, while it is the oldest "job" and really is a profession there is yet some discussion on whether it is 'paid.' I am talking about motherhood.

I have been reading and watching someone in blogdom go through a painful breakup of a marriage involving small children. (Blogdom is like the rabbit hole...you fall into another's honest life and it becomes as important as the lives of those you talk to each day.) Like all marriages her's is complicated and there are many sides to the story including the sides of the children. She has decided to get a divorce and that decision is neither right nor wrong. Since this decision involves tremendous pain and sacrifice, I know that she has thought long and hard about this and feels that it is the BEST decision for her--and for those she cares about--maybe even including her future ex. While I have never gone through a divorce (and therefore probably cannot really write about it) I always thought of it like the amputation of a limb. Sometimes the limb is so diseased and painful that the owner does not miss it nor its usefulness for any length of time once the initial pain and inconvenience are gone. The fear and pain of the amputation is replaced by a deep breath of freedom and safety.

For others, this limb is loved and useful but requires too much bracing and support and therapy to keep it working and the owner just becomes tired --- muscle tired, bone tired. So they carefully and intellectually proceed to get the surgery. It is preceded by therapy and advice from EVERYONE around them. They know, even without hope, though, that the divorce is the final necessary act.

In so many cases marriages dissolve because the woman loses herself. She views the marriage like any very important job. She puts in 125%. But there is no promotion and certainly no change in status in this world. She works 24 hours a day seven days a week and doesn't think about down time or her needs. She is going to be the best G--D--- wife ever and her kids are never going to want for support and sustenance and her husband is going to be treated like the breadwinner king that he is. This is a particularly difficult role to play if you are also working 40 hours a week as many women are. Of course, hubby is in shock when the big D rears it ugly head. Men (and yes, I generalize here) are not perceptive in relationships and tend to ignore subtle and blatant clues. He thought that the pure love was the only currency necessary. He thought she really was passionate about all of this stuff. Clean toilets, perfectly crafted couponed shopping, child psychology on call, and of course, sex on call. Few men are raised to look at marriage the same way they would look at a business partnership. I admit I didn't raise my son that way.

And then as the children grow and she gets a little space and down time she has moments of clarity that she lost her real self somewhere along the way. She realizes that the woman her husband married is deeply buried in a half-lidded body and an ugly gray sweatsuit. She finds there are things she would like to change in the marriage, but she doesn't have the necessary power or energy to make the changes, that is, until she makes the BIG change.

I wish there was some magic formula to make marriages work for those intelligent people. Some perfect therapy or medicine or chant.

Oh well, it is not the end of the world in the grand scheme of things. It is the beginning of a new life and both will stretch and grow and learn. And both will look back on this time, and if they are mentally healthy, they will view it as a lesson and it will make them better people.

Your turn.

Sunday Morning

Sunday morning

The first misty birth of today’s morning
Brushes the smell of warm sun on the blanket’s edge.
A distant feathered cry of elation invades the mind’s smoky eye.
I wait.
I do not open my eyes and command the end of floating
Between the sheets in this transformation in time.
It is still an addictive mystery,
The rare alone moment when nothing is demanded
And no one sings a song of need.
There is yet again the promise of new.
No footprints on the snow or sand.
No expectations not yet met.
It is another chance for a day of peaceful challenge.

(Post Script: I deny the existence of a Superbowl today.)

Circus.doc

Unavoidable
Dancing and gnashing and wailing
Waiting and learning and dying
Arising for breath in the next ring

Circle
Around and around and around
Halting and jerking and moving
Pausing and breathing and staring

Terminus
Act I and Act II and Act III
Predetermined and predicted and preceded
Missing the answers already

Oh yeah, like you blend!!

With the new immigration reform law, I thought I would link to this old post.





If you had to guess the location and heritage and profession of the man above, you might get it right...but then again, you might not.  If I told you he was a Japanese movie director, would you believe me?  Maybe a gangster out of Tokyo waiting for his limo or perhaps an urban designer from New York?  It is hard to judge a book by its cover. 

He was a fisherman from one of the tuna boats on an island in Japan. I was busy taking photos of the tuna being loaded and unloaded and the sorting of the fish for auction. He came up and in sign language asked me to take his picture. If you recognize him, I would love to send him this photo which came out very well.

The title of this blog was taken from a movie called "My Cousin Vinny" which came out in 1992 starring Joe Pesci, Ralph Maccio and Marisa Tomei. It is a silly black comedy about a murder trial and the class of regional cultures in America. Due to a series of miscommunications and misunderstandings, two young New Yorkers are charged with murder in a small Alabama town. Joe Pesci, a personal injury lawyer, flies down from New York to save his cousin. He brings along his girlfriend Marisa Tomei and the clash of cultures begins. The line above results from a discussion between the boyfriend (Pesci) and the girlfriend (Tomei) who accuse each other of not fitting adequately into the rural southern town setting. The movie did not get great reviews, but it obviously has struck a chord with me if I remember it after more than a decade. I loved the clash of the culture of New York 'gansta' and Alabama 'good-old-boy'.

I am drawn to those stories where characters from totally different backgrounds have to interact, adjust and begin to understand and respect each other. Vinnie is totally regarded as a loser at the beginning of the movie because of his thick accent and strange black suit. He wins the case with the help of his 'smart' girlfriend in leather and boots and raw outspoken bravada. While it had a predictable ending, I enjoyed the cultural dance and surrprise.

I was intrigued by, if not quite understanding the allure, the recent news that the Japanese woman are drawn to the cartoon SpongeBob Squarepants thing and that all of his iconic wares are selling like hotcakes or should I say okonomyaki?

I was reassured (not threatened) by a featured news story about a a very popular New Jersey theater that shows only Bollywood movies and serves Indian food. The Asian Indian Americans can relax in a theater and pretend they are back home.

I am pleased to see the salsa dance clubs that are filling our cities due to the influx of Latino immigrants-- even though I think I have forgotten my salsa steps totally and could never match a real latino woman who loves her rhythm.

While waiting in line at the maternity store this weekend (for my daughter, of course) I watched and listened to the ebullient discussion between a woman from the Philippines who was interviewing a woman from Gabon for a job in the store. Each with their own thick accents talking in English.

I have a friend who years ago had car trouble in her hometown of Miami and had to pull into a gas station in a part of town where no one spoke English. She spoke no Spanish. It was a very difficult night for her. I don't feel so good about that incident as she related it, and while I respect other cultures, I think English does have to be the official language. Communication is everything. English has to be the language we can depend on in our schools and our businesses allowing other languages to be used for supplement and assistance only.
(Although I will admit the media has allowed American English to fall into the realm of disaster!)



(As a 2013 addendum to this post, I watch refugees take shelters in every ruined corner of the world and on every open dust swept dessert this year and want to find them mixing their accents in my neighborhood.)