Recovery Mode

Today has been a total pajama day. Still fighting off a cold. While it's not the cabin, Greg and Janet's is just about as close to be home as it can be for such days.

Tonight we are finishing our film noir marathon by watching The Maltese Falcon. It's so good, and comforting for a day like today.

I am grateful for friends, family, and safe harbors.

Just a lovely day

Really that just sums up the day. Mostly very slow and easy here at Greg and Janet's. Today has been their "leftovers and film noir" party. Around 1:30 Janet and I started rearranging furniture, I took over the kitchen making the various leftovers look even more tasty.

People have been drifting in and out with lovely conversations, yummy food. So far we have watched "Pick Up on South Street" which is an interesting tale involving the Cold War as a back drop - Thelma Ritter is amazing as usual and "Double Indemnity," which I hadn't seen in years. Written by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler, it's easy to see who wrote the dialogue and who wrote the Fred's inner voice monologues.

We on an a talking jag now and still up for watching is "The Third Man" and "The Maltese Falcon". We shall see if we watch another tonight. I would certainly watch the Falcon again.

Lovely party, lovely day. Hope y'all are having a wonderful after the Festival of Stuffing Yourself Beyond Belief.

Fully Loved

In June 2008 my cousin Judy lost her husband of 41 years. Somehow I hadn't realized that the illness he was diagnosed with years ago was fatal but it was. Since his passing I had seen her only once, at the family sedar, in April 2009, where we did not have a lot of time to talk. In fact we have rarely had significant conversation time, though I have always been very fond of her.

Yesterday I drove to her house, upon arriving, we flittered from topic to topic in a vain attempt to update quickly. After a bit we settled down with some fabulous pizza and nice bottle of wine. This morning into afternoon, before other guests arrived, we continue our rambling conversation while tending to straightening, prepping food, and repotting plants when we saw we still extra time.

Judy knew her husband for 54 years, they graduated from the same high school. They did not marry immediately, in fact Judy met someone else whom she married and had her first son with. Clearly that marriage did not last all that long. She quickly reunited, I think that's the best way to describe it, with David and was with him all these decades.

My view of their relationship was very limited through my adolescence. Also given that I only saw them about twice a year at family gatherings I had no idea of the complexity, the happiness, the struggles, that made up their marriage. After David died she wrote a beautiful letter where I learned so many things about his life which made realize how much I lost not knowing him. He was always so quiet at families occasions, Judy so vivacious, busy, with a full laugh.

After this visit I am awed by the beauty of their marriage, though I imagine it may have been colored by grief so that it more rose than beige. Even so to be loved like that, for so long, must be an amazing experience. Longevity in relationships is not exactly something I excel at, my cynical nature, my restless soul, and my walls hold such things at bay. At least that's what I think it may be. Maybe I am just damaged, or maybe I haven't met that person that breach my fortress, or perhaps I have not figured to let someone in enough to love me that well.

"In many ways our last years together were among our happiest." How lovely is that. Knowing that this illness was fatal, going to appointments together, never knowing which bad turn might spell the end, and yet her view is that they were happy together. I suppose it's possible knowing that your time is limited, each day has a different scent, a promise of exuberance because it might be the last time you did that particular thing. To be able to say you know in your heart that for your mate, you were it, the smartest, the most clever, the sexiest - for four decades? How remarkable.

She asked me if I had heard of The 100 Things Challenge which I had not. In the past several years I have pared down extensively, especially with my last big move in March 2009. Judy's house (in fact each of the three she has owned and that I have visited) is filled with beautiful things. There are so many things to look at, to run your finger across, fabric that begs to be touched. I suspect that if I had her belongings I would have found it significantly more challenging to reduce the way I have because I have always lusted after her living spaces. In thinking about what she would give up, I imagine many of the things she would keep would be related to David, things they bought together or that he built for her. I think just those two parameters would easily take up half that goal of 100, if not more.

One of the tasks that she has struggled with was what to do with David's ashes. He had wanted them scattered in Muir Woods but in conversations prior to his death she said she didn't think she could do that. He told he really didn't care all that much really, that he wanted her to do what was best for her. She thought about burying them outside his workshop on their property but realized that she do so only in a format that allowed her to dig them back up if she ever moved. Her good friend said not to do it in that case. She finally came up with something that made the most sense to her. In the last five or so years Judy has been making art, decorative boxes, furniture, collage prints and so forth. She made a box, decorated with paints, gel films of photos in its interior, and topped with symbols of David's passions. It lives in her bedroom now. She has told her younger son that when she dies she wants to be cremated as well, to have her ashes mixed with David's so they will always be together. Beyond that she doesn't care what happens to the ashes, just that she rests with him. Recalling that conversation now I am tearing up at the depth of devotion, the solidarity that is conveyed by her sentiment. I am awed by their love, my only sadness is that I never know what was in front of me all those years.

meeting as peers

I am at my cousin's house in Hebron, CT. This may be our first time alone ever and we are now more like peers than ever despite over the 2+ decade age difference. Talking, confiding, in very different yet similar places in some ways. I am honored and touched to have the rapport with a woman I have admired for most of my life.

Day 10 Wednesday April 28

Meredith, Katie, and Matt left the canyon (Brimstone) before Greg and Janet, so I hiked back with them. Well sort of, Meredith and Katie breezed ahead, while Matt went slowly with me, figuring out the path of least resistance as he put it. The guessimate is that I hiked about 4 miles and the descent (and hence the ascent) was about 500-600 feet (most of it in only one short section). I made the ascent in about an hour. My decision to head back to the Narrows rather than continue the hike with the crew was a good one for me - heavy sand for the rest of the walk out to the canyon. Hiking in deep sand is SO hard!

I can't remember a time when I heard my pulse in my ears as frequently as I have this week. The winds started kicking up on our walk back and have not relented one bit (the windstorm lasted close to 36 hours). As Matt and I neared our site, the other two were rescuing my tent from it's Queen of the Hill place as it swept from it's perch. Matt and I repositioned it to a lower place, little hope of a protected place in the mesa. Thanks to my blackberry we were able to get an idea of the weather. Sustained winds 20-30 mph with gust up to 60 mph. The hike, winds and I expect cumulative drain got to everyone last night; trying to cook in these winds was challenging and laughable by turns. However after a lovely sunset most of us stayed awake to watch the spectacular moonrise from the cloud banks.

Given the winds, a cranky groin and expecting the seven mile hike tomorrow I stayed behind, as has Matt (though I think for different reasons). I have taken advantage of the time reading and napping. Breakfast was not on my agenda this morning as I had a bit of bad coffee and a whole grain tortilla. Since then I have had a power bar, perhaps this explains some of the sleeping. Eating more might be good, so I did, but I am so tired of the lunch choices. I meandered between my tent (which was being flattened by the winds), under the juniper tree, or retreating to the car to escape the howling sounds. Really the constant noise was like torture after about 6 straight hours awake, listening, surrounded by the sound.

Odd dreams - my two exes (Her Geekyness and an earlier one) blending, leaving them/her, grateful it was their suggestion so I didn't have to do that piece (as I usually do in real life). Concocting how I didn't need to actually live with them during the time of giving notice on the apartment. Figuring how to explain going to Cleveland (where BC lives) but not caring a whole lot about the reaction.

One good thing about the wind, it's keeping the tent from totally baking. I have mostly figured and what will stay behind in the vehicle, clothes wise anyway for the backpacking portion.

I continue to be torn between being really proud of myself regarding this trip and feeling like I'm seen as the fat kid who slows everyone down, who breaths heavy with any light exertion annoying everyone who is in earshot. Yesterday during the descent Greg called for someone to give Janet a hand. There was no one really accessible except me, so I did. I was inordinately proud and stunned to be the person to spot her. Sometimes I feel like I will just cry and cry when I return to "civilization" release all of this, except it's not really like me to do that.

Home and chilly!

I am home, for the moment. On Friday the 12th I left to head to Boston, Monday onto Ohio, a quick stop in New Paltz on Friday to re-storage my belongings, then back to Boston the same day. Today I drove from there to Croton to work for Sunny, and upon entering my cabin discovered it was a balmy 52F degrees.

It will be a quick stop over here in my haven, as it seems I remain your faithful nomad. My next stops include Hebron CT for Thanksgiving with some family, Brooklyn NY for a "leftovers and film noir" extravaganza where I will settle for a few days working on Art & Adventures business with Greg and Janet. While in New York I will likely be going to a party where Allyson Grey will be live painting, meeting Maddy Rosenberg, and having a lovely time I hope! Then I am off to Miami with Janet to attend Art Basel Miami. Crazy, huh?

This is all great, and the weeks after that are busy and filled with awesome people but I really am hoping for at least two weeks straight at home sometime in January.

Back to tending the fire, as the chill continues!

More dreaming

(apparently I wrote this November 21 but never published it!?!?? color me confused.)

One of the dreams I had either last night, or the night before, it's all a bit fuzzy, involved driving at night with others in the car. As I drove the road became dark, to the point where I wondered if my lights were on, friends at first assured me that they were. Further on though it was clear that I was merely feeling my way on the road, moving along on blind faith, trusting my knowledge to prevent crashing. This theme, lights going out while driving, has occurred before but not for quite some time. Upon giving this some thought, I wondered yet again what it means. This time I am thinking that it involves feeling my way along a path that is familiar but not ingrained my muscle memory - as it were.

Last night I had another dream with a baby, again a recurring theme lately. Again it was a boy child too. He was happy, I was happy. We went to see my friend Abby, someone I've known longer than anyone but actual family. Then I went to a party like setting, a great deal like a Dance New England Camp Coordinating Group meeting (which I have been attending monthly in my new role of mentor). It was a light, happy sort of day. In the dream I had "received" the baby (he was adopted) on Thursday. In the dream I remembering thinking how his presence would impact my time at camp in the summer but felt confident about managing it.

After I woke I marveled at the fact of having another dream where I acquire a baby. Then I thought about the day mentioned in the dream - this past Thursday was the day I collected my things from Ohio and drove back towards New York. Babies and birthing dreams - new beginnings, creativity, changing or growing towards something perhaps? Am I still expanding, still moving on some unknown track towards something? The difference in this dream is adoption, being happy about the baby, introducing him (me? some aspect of me?) to people important to me. I still don't know but overall I felt good about this dream and I worked to feel better about the first dream which illustrates the idea of stepping off the edge, having faith that a net will appear or I will sprout wings.

More dreaming

One of the dreams I had either last night, or the night before, it's all a bit fuzzy, involved driving at night with others in the car. As I drove the road became dark, to the point where I wondered if my lights were on, friends at first assured me that they were. Further on though it was clear that I was merely feeling my way on the road, moving along on blind faith, trusting my knowledge to prevent crashing. This theme, lights going out while driving, has occurred before but not for quite some time. Upon giving this some thought, I wondered yet again what it means. This time I am thinking that it involves feeling my way along a path that is familiar but not ingrained my muscle memory - as it were.

Last night I had another dream with a baby, again a recurring theme lately. Again it was a boy child too. He was happy, I was happy. We went to see my friend Abby, someone I've known longer than anyone but actual family. Then I went to a party like setting, a great deal like a Dance New England Camp Coordinating Group meeting (which I have been attending monthly in my new role of mentor). It was a light, happy sort of day. In the dream I had "received" the baby (he was adopted) on Thursday. In the dream I remembering thinking how his presence would impact my time at camp in the summer but felt confident about managing it.

After I woke I marveled at the fact of having another dream where I acquire a baby. Then I thought about the day mentioned in the dream - this past Thursday was the day I collected my things from Ohio and drove back towards New York. Babies and birthing dreams - new beginnings, creativity, changing or growing towards something perhaps? Am I still expanding, still moving on some unknown track towards something? The difference in this dream is adoption, being happy about the baby, introducing him (me? some aspect of me?) to people important to me. I still don't know but overall I felt good about this dream and I worked to feel better about the first dream which illustrates the idea of stepping off the edge, having faith that a net will appear or I will sprout wings.

True closure involves many ties

While in the Dayton area I was lucky enough to see a number of the dear friends I made out there, which was very satisfying while bittersweet. To those of you that I did not get to see, you remain in my heart and I look forward to keeping in touch via other means. To those I did manage to see, all I can say is wow, it was so so good to see your faces.

On Thursday I headed out to a storage place to pick up my trailer, delighted to find it directly across the street from Coffee Movers, where my belongings had been stored for over a year. Except. It turns out there were to be had at that place. U-H*ul had apparently called me to say that the pick up location had changed but they didn't really make that clear in the brief call I had. Sigh. So off I drove to an actual U-H*ul site to pick one up. As I drove down the road I passed Westbrook, which caused my heart to skip a beat, because that is the road that Her Geekyness lived when we met, the house that I helped pack up so that she could move to California to be with me. As I continued on it occurred to me that I was going to the place where Jeriann and I had gone to buy more boxes during that adventure which took place just a hair over 6 years ago. Freaky. At that point I decided the gods have a strange sense of irony.

It took forever but I got the trailer and proceeded back from Salem to Clayton to load up my belongings. Wait for it, there was a snafu. Really. My dresser would not fit in it. The opening was not big enough, had it been a bit wider or taller, it would have been just fine. But no. Back on the phone, I found that the only place with the next size up was in Dayton. As soon as I heard the address I had a feeling I was in for more deja vu. And I was. When I left, the last time, in March 2009, I went to one U-H*ul place but had lots of trouble with lights on the trailer and was sent to another place where it could be fixed. Here I was back at the same place, trading out trailers. Now I decided the fates were just cruel, but upon reflection I thought that perhaps it was the proper way to leave this place, even as it frustrated me.

Once done, I headed back up to Clayton and luckily there were movers up there so I didn't have to lift a finger. My spirits lifted in the most amazing way as I pulled out with the rest of my belongings reunited with me. I still have not opened any of the boxes, as everything is back in storage, but just knowing that everything I owe is in one state feels remarkably whole and freeing.

It has been a long journey to get here, both literally and figuratively. I am happy in a way that I don't remember being in forever, maybe ever? My life keeps unfolding in some ways I could have never foreseen. Some of it is not fun, but it is still engaging, I still see the opportunity to grow from everything.

Overall I am just happy to close the Ohio chapter. It's done, I have my things. No longer tied by being split, no longer mourning the tangible and not quite so being far out of reach. it's a good place to be.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

Remember last Friday's post? Yeah, well I'm at Dance Friday again but more tired after my travels to Ohio and back.

Hoping to post a wrap up of those adventures tomorrow or the day after.

Thanks for your patience.
Signed
The Modern Nomad

Sleepy start

Need to pack up and move on out of the home of the hostess with the mostess to pick up the trailer, the load up the beginnings and hit the road. Hence my quick post now because it's unlikely I will get online later today.

No surprise I woke from dreams about moving - hitching the trailer to a bicycle while expecting someone else to drive my car. After straining my way up a hill toward the cabin hauling an empty trailer I was beside myself with horror at the notion of pumping my way up the hills in Pennsylvania with the thing loaded. It took a few anxious moments to realize that we could just put the bike in the trailer and split the driving. Duh.

Am I stressed a little? Why would you ask that? Yes, yes, I know "just breathe". I am, I promise.

Nothing People, Absolutely Nothing

Sorry folks, I got nothing for today. I'm hanging with my hostess and am totally distracted.

Tomorrow is the day I pick up the U-Haul and load up the last of my belongings still residing in Ohio. It feels good, if a bit surreal to close this chapter. The last drive from here with my belongings, unifying my baggage in one state.

Night peeps.

The Travel Gods have a bizarre sense of humor

Yesterday I left later than i intended because, well that's how things happen. Having company on the road was a really nice change. Having a travel companion who is also a dj? Priceless - between we selected an interesting set of cds, of which we listened to only a small percentage of during the trip - because we brought that much stuff.

We were merrily going along, stopping as I noted last night at Aunt Lu's Cafe for a spot of truck stop cuisine. Finally I was getting tired and drove until I found a rest stop, I can't remember where. We adjust the seats as much as possible and napped. I slept lightly for about two hours, waking at around 3:35. Feeling remarkable awake and knowing that rest of the drive was less than 180 miles I felt sure I could make it, arriving at our host's home before they left for the day.

During some points of the trip I had noticed an odd smell, not totally dissimilar to the problem I had in February which necessitated replacing the heater core, but not identical and I thought it unlikely to have gone bad. In the early morning silence as my companion was still dozing, I now heard odd, vaguely tinkling or crackling like sounds which did not give me the warm fuzzies. About 35 miles from our final destination, my battery light lit up, quickly followed by the temperature gauge rising precipitously fast. Pulling off to the shoulder, I shut the car off and took a few deep breaths before grabbing the manual to try to determine what to do next. My hope was that this was relatively simple - a hose coming loose and losing the coolant fluid type injury to the car. This of course would not explain the battery indicator going on but I was trying to hope for silly but simple explanations of such things. For some reason I could not pop the hood - the lever did absolutely nothing but looking underneath showed a river of fluid heading down towards the earth on the far side of the shoulder.

I decided to call my insurance company, who patched me to a local tow company, who recommended a repair place near we were going to be staying. In my experience, while not extensive, covers a several such calls for service and/or towing, it seems to be the rule that one has a minimum of 1 hours and 15 minute waiting time. This time it was over an hour and a half, though in the end the timing was perfect. It did not take long to reach the car place and as I took Indy off the flat bed to put her in a spot, the power steering went out on me which freaked me out entirely. While doing all this the manager had come in to open things up and I was the first customer of the day. As the tow guy was about to pull out to take us to the house, my hostess with the mostess showed up with the keys.

We settled in quickly for a nap, which was cut short for me by the garage calling me with bad news about the vehicle. Never fear Indy is fine but my budget is screwed (thanks for the advance pay Sunny!). It was way worse and much more extensive than a radiator hose or another simple but she is now running just fine.

I am hoping this is the last of these sorts of adventures because the stress is not a fun kind and the impact on my finances is less than thrilling. Please make offerings, sing prayers, or dance naked around a fire to help insure smoother travels home and for my up coming plans (I will be away from home a good deal, per usual it seems) if you are so inclined. In turn I will make voodoo dolls in your image and laden them with chocolate, multiple orgasms and Jimmy Choo shoes. Thanks.

Live from the road

It's true! I'm the classic Sapp's Bros. in Clearfield, PA on my way to Dayton, eating at Aunt Lu's. Got on the road later than intended so I expect to drive until about midnight, probably will sleep in the car to keep the trip cheap, but who knows. After this much driving I might spoil myself a bit.

I am excited to see a few folks who I really miss out there before turning back around with things I haven't seen for about 1.5 years or more! It will be like a holiday gift extravaganza whenever I open the boxes.

Later peeps!

Meeting Exhaustion

at it's face. However the meeting, because yes there really was one, was a good one. It is good to meet with people you care about on a personal level as well as a professional one.

Following the meeting we are looking to have a snuggle party {tm} at Aileen's. I'm looking forward to it.

That's all for now folks.

Flowing in the River of Life

Some days the time moves in contrast to how you feel. It creeps as you race, you mimic a sloth and the clock acts as though it's on a coke binge. But sometime, in the way that dusk moves to evening, time feels liminal - it's breaths merging with yours as you pass through conversations, resting, thinking, running errands as you walk together in step with no perception of going fast or slow but just being. I have had some of these moments, where life seems timeless - just moving along as if guided by a power contained within and without, in concert but without you have any conscious notion of participating in the process.

Wouldn't it be nice to have more moments like that in our life? I treasure the moments, no matter how short, that have this quality. When I'm very present and in my body it's more likely to happen when I am dancing is when this happens the most, though still all too infrequently. For me, the lesson there is to dance more: alone, with others, at home, at boogies, at clubs, wherever, whenever possible. I suppose this state would be referred to be being "in flow", as popularized by Csikszentmihaly. For me I relate it more to my Buddhist studies which predate my exposure to Mr. Csikszentmihaly, where I first encountered what intuitively I sensed in my body, in my heart about being in the moment even though I spent my childhood escaping via daydreams and books. I suppose that given how fully I immersed in those activities it could be argued that I was in that state, even while I was dissociating from realities, creating my own which felt safer, nurturing in that they provided me a world of possibility outside my own.

Given my lifestyle which lacks structure even as I strive to create some in order to meet some outside idea of how I should live, most of my days are about finding the flow, allowing life to flow over and inside of me. Appreciating the moments of deep terror, amusement, and bliss have become, while not second nature, it seems that I have the ability to "stop and smell the roses" better than I ever have before.

Whether one labels being in the flow, living the dogma of Buddhism, or having a sense of humor about the gods playing dice to figure out your destiny, I find that I am engaging more deeply in random minutes, walking the liminal, enjoying that moment of stepping off the cliff wondering whether a wind will carry me, or a net will catch me.

Phoning it in

Literally! I'm somewhere without wifi and expect to dancing until after midnight so I am on my 'Berry making the deadline early so I don't blow NaBloPoMo!

Have an awesome Friday night my peeps.

Alone Again, Naturally

Last night as I dived under the covers with a book, as is my nightly habit, I was taken with a deep hit of loneliness. It was a surprise because it is not something I normally feel at that moment. Rather than burying the feeling immediately, I decided to just sit with it, examine it a tiny bit but without a tinge of obsession or a sense of needing to fix it.

Since taking residence here in my nest in early May, I have been alone, slept alone in my bed more than I have in decades. This is not an exaggeration at all, it is plain fact. Mostly I enjoy it endlessly. It has felt a bit like a revelation to go food shopping without thinking of anyone's needs, wants, or palete; to only have myself to answer to regarding my spending; paying off debt rather than accruing more has been heavenly - I used a credit card this spring, an act I haven't done in about five years. Somewhat sadly I have discovered I sleep better when alone - what I lose in dream recall is made up, somewhat, by waking more rested. I now recognize the trade off in having someone in bed with me - it is delicious, comforting (among other things, ahem), but the sleeping is more fitful.

Spending hours, days even by myself holed up with no one for physical company has been restorative and instructive. I have learned that I know how to reach out for companionship, seen how I resist it but know I can choose to stand up for myself by seeking out people. I can sit in the lonely and see what it brings up; interestingly the lonely doesn't show up all that often. It has been nice to see how I "keep house" when it's just me. It has been informative to see where my limits are, to discover my internal motivation on things because there is no one to prod me.

Another thing I have realized, and am working to make peace with, is my life is rarely tidy and structured. When I look back over the years (and at this point there are many of them to review) there has always been something of a nomadic thread, myriad projects and interests, friends and family fun and drama that result in a lack of rut. This is something that largely suits me, but I have occasionally fought it; thinking my life ought to look different, more like some other people's lives, more like how the overall society thinks life should look like, that we should all have a sort of resigned ennui existence. What I am also seeing is that I also am able to manage a great deal of integrity in this lifestyle, that I keep connections, keep commitments (as best as I can given my predilection for procrastination), am good at networking, and have a great sense of humor (which is required for a life as odd as mine).

I am not lonely though I have moments when loneliness is my core feeling, usually quite briefly. There is nothing inherently scary about these moments, they are good reminders about innate vulnerabilities that we all have. In addition that are good reminders about our innate resilience, that we are stronger than our fears.

Movement to conclusion

Around the end of August, or maybe the beginning of September while chatting with a friend, it became apparent that I had a strong yearning to retrieve my things resting in storage in Dayton. There were a few things driving this I believe - one the option to have access to my things that I haven't seen in 1.5 years; a desire to have all my belongings in one state; and perhaps finally to close the Ohio chapter of my adventurous life.

A bit ago I began researching storage places close to either my nest here in New Paltz, or near Sunny. The other problem was figuring out when to go since the drive would be long and with all my traveling, meetings, housesitting it was hard to figure out. Initially I thought I would go in October, clearly that was a bust. Plus with the DNE weekend, well, just wasn't happening. Looking at the calendar, thinking about the weather shifting, and Thanksgiving, well this coming week is the time!

Today I booked a storage site here in New Paltz, let the Dayton place know I was coming to collect my belongings, and reserved a U-Haul trailer. Whew! It feels so good. All of me in one state, and I can have a kitchen table downstairs, a coffee table upstairs, and unearth my fridge magnets! Also I can get my kitchen gear off Sunny's porch and put it in storage close by so if I desire my Cuisinart to make latkes I can. Friday I will drive to Boston to go to Dance Friday, Sunday will be my CCG meeting, then Monday I hit the road. My travel buddy needs to be back in Boston by Friday so it will be a quick turn around but so worth it.

This feels so good, exciting even. It's also been a long time in coming. Of course it means another week away from my cabin but I think it will result in a lot of peace for me.

Utah Day 9, April 27

Dance Hall Rock was exceptional, it is such a wonderful spot and we were lucky enough to be the only ones there. The afternoon into evening was easy and simple.

Janet and Greg, and later Katie as well, were painting while

seated on the same shaded alcove.

We all took turns hiking about on and around the rock. We had a simple dinner, made a fire and had more wine. The moon rise was awe inspiring as it was almost full as it came up over some rock formations.

Moonlight cast a shimmering glow over our camp.

In many ways it was my best sleep which while not saying much, I am grateful for nonetheless. I woke pretty easily around 7 a.m. to the everyone breaking down camp, which I began to do as well. I was rather unreasonably please with my

first start to finish take down of my borrowed tent.

We headed back up Hole in the Rock Road the way we had come to Dry Fork Gulch; the trail head was packed, filled with folks about to enter the trail. It was close to 10am by this time. We turned around in search of a suitable camping site. Finding one where an older gentleman was working on his vehicle, we weren't thrilled is it was very open. The man, who was from Oregon, suggest we go down the path, heading further towards some more varied terrain. We found the perfect site and I set my tent a top the highest mound, playing Queen of the Hill.

Unloading quickly Greg sussed out how

we might hike from our site to our intended goal for the day. Heading out it soon became clear we were blazing an infrequently, largely unused trail. Lots of scrambling down slick rock and building cairns to mark our return route. My knees let me know they were less than thrilled with this plan but such is life.

We found what we thought was the chalk narrows we were aiming for but later we learned we were mistaken. Leaving there we heading toward Brimstone Canyon, entering it was cool and shaded. The stone he

re has more of a pink cast versus the orange of Zebra. Here at least was the Dry Fork Narrows that we thought we had come upon earlier. We partook of lunch here and after some guidance from fellow hikers we gathered ourselves to see Brimstone.

The heat was not bad, the rock was gorgeous. As we turned up stream (no water, just the language and shadow of where water once flowed) we entered a beautiful sandy stretch with a line of trees in the distance directly at the base of the rock face. We marched through the sand around the bend and I did a body check - my ankle had began to ache again, the right thumb joint that is sometimes troublesome was hurting. Taking into account that it was close to another mile in and we still had to head back to camp I made a judgement call and turned around, back to the Narrows. While I tempted to go further than the Narrows and test my trail skills I knew it would make Greg nervous if I was not where I said I would be for meeting up.

At one point a group came by where I was resting and asked if I was from the party of 5 or 6. Yes, I replied. "They said to say hello". It's a largely sweet, affable world this hiker's universe.

(a shot from back at camp, the end of sundown)

It feels like Sunday

Seriously, it does. My out of town friends have all left and are home. I felt nappish and napped rather than studied. Had challenging dreams. Janet says that one's unconscious is six months behind life. I'm not sure I agree.

(my desk area)

At this point it's hard to remember if this was a theme in my dreams before but certainly since leaving Dayton in March 2009 I have had a lot of moving dreams, not surprising since I wasn't living anywhere until a few months ago. Even since getting here to the cabin I haven't been here without an overnight or three for probably more than two weeks. Okay that might be a slight exaggeration but not by much. During my nap I had a dream about Her Geekyness, who I ended things with in February 2009 (hence my move); we were fighting about money and work. Not unlike real life in some ways as finances were always an issue. For me, dreaming about exes seems to be like a check in with myself that I made the right decision. What is funny about that is I never regret leaving relationship, not really. I feel badly sometimes, like maybe I didn't try hard enough before leaving, but I digress. I had to wake myself up because I just couldn't stand the arguing anymore.

Earlier today it sleeted, making for a good sleepy sort of day and a day when keeping the fire going was important but not always easy. Luckily I have done just enough so the temperature downstairs has not sunk below 63F. It seems way too early for such weather but I suppose not.

(another view of that room)

Almost Blew It

It's been a crazy, odd time zone kind of day what with the time change, the weekend event, plans shifting at the turn of a corner and a face wanting time, accommodating newly emerged needs but somehow I am managing to post before midnight, barely.

The weekend was a successful, from what we can tell financially and it certainly seems from the responses many of the organizers heard, it was emotionally successful in that it fed people's need for a DNE dose as winter begins to emerge and the long stretch of cold is before us and dance camp seems far away. Overall I am please with how things went but per my usual I was concocting a "next time" document and the bones of time line for 2011.

My out of town dear friends leave in the morning which is bittersweet, it was such a treat having them on my turf for a change, and there isn't much likelihood of all of them returning soon. At least they were able to see a bit of why I adore where I am as much as I do and play hostess just a tiny bit by offering soup and wine.

Given the weekend, late hours, and the damn daylight savings time my body clock is feeling very off kilter. Tomorrow begins a buckling down of work - school and A&A as well as some DNE. If I use my time wisely I can also begin to make notes on the NY Weekend. Of course I will need to blog as well.

Thus ends the first week of NaBloPoMo, year 5 I believe.

A Quickie

Hello! I am about to dash off again because it's the New York DNE Weekend. Helped with get the site set up and danced quite bit which was great. Was up very late last night, slept in a bit and now am hoping to make it back to the site to catch lunch, my breakfast.

Yesterday was a slow but speedy sort of day catching up on things and also not under a lot of pressure for the weekend in other ways. As Scott said last night, "we have not overtly f*cked up, so it's a success". My bar is way higher and I already have a long set of notes structure ideas for next year, because that's how my brain works.

Unlikely that I will take classes today but will have a lovely time catching up with folks and doing oversight.

Ta ta for now!*

*Who says this? Consider yourself getting life bonus points if you know.

Evidence of Yesterday's Stove Adventures

The soup came out great. Very basic: sauteed onions, carrots, and baby portabello; add water; add package of Manischewitz "mushroom soup"; add reconstituted dried porcini mushrooms with the water (strained).

For the last two days I was able to keep my home in an high 60's to about 71 using the wood stove. I am inordinately proud of myself. When my guests were here last night they were impressed at the toasty quality done by stove alone. For the last two mornings I found some glowering embers still in the midst of ash - again very pleased.

Little House on the Prairie Goes Post-Modern

Since May I have been living in a cabin on my friend's property. I love this place, it is my home, my nest, my sanctuary. I have no idea how long I will be here but I am grateful for it each and every day (whether I'm here or not - in October I was gone about 23 days in total!). The property (the main house and the cabin) has a deer fencing around a great deal of it which is part of why I have nicknamed it "the compound".

Anyway. It's up the mountain a bit from the center of New Paltz and the temperature up here is always different from town. Though there are other options, I have decided to heat primarily via the wood stove - not that I know anything about maintaining one for heat in the depths of winter. It also occurred to me that I could cook via the stove, since I don't have a cook stove or oven here. About three weeks ago I attempted this just a bit by halving a butternut squash - grown by the gentleman farmer that is my friend. Putting a bit of water in a cast iron pan I put them in, covered with aluminum foil and attempted to "roast" it to use in a soup the next day. Yeah, well the fire didn't stay all that hot overnight. They were partially cooked. Oh well.

Fast forward to today. Picture this if you will:

I am tidying my nest in part because it was FILTHY and in part because I have out of town friends coming over (go me!). After dusting and vacuuming I decide to do this soup thing on the wood stove but I need a shower too. Besides my hair is already wet from dashing out in the rain to cover the hopelessly damp unstacked wood and grab some of the drier stacked, covered wood so I can make soup and keep the house toasty. Well while I'm at it, I thought I'd color my hair for fun. So there I am in black sweats, topless, my hair wet with water and dye, a towel around my neck and back with a pan on the stove heating up while I slice onions. Mind you I am facing a huge picture window that is visible should the kindly landowner wander by on the way to his car. Luckily it's a week day and it's raining so odds are good that he is hard at work in the house. I finish dicing the onions, tend to the fire to try to get the oiled pan is heating, then dash into the shower.

My hair has warm tones, the nest is tidy, the onions, carrots, and mushrooms are sauteed. I have wireless internet, lots of warm blankets for chilly nights. Laura Ingalls never had it so good.

Utah Day 8, April 26

Yesterday we made our way to the Boulder Mountain Lodge where they did our laundry - oh happy day! This place is beautiful, just sumptuous, after a week of camping even more so. I walked over to the Burr Trail Outpost which is an artisan shop and cafe of the most charming arrangement. Met a woodworker, Dennis Bertucci, who is originally from Brooklyn; when I told him a bit about my work with G & J, he said I should get in touch with a local artist, Amsel Springs (who Janet and Katie met by chance a few days earlier - small world, no?) because he thinks Mr. Spring should be shown in NY. It was a delightful encounter.

Our dinner at Hell's Backbone Grill was lush with beautiful presentations and complex flavors. (I want their cookbook!) After dinner Greg and I worked on sorting all the food in our traveling pantry by meal category then by meal, then by car camping versus backpacking. By the end I was tired and my right arch was aching. Heading back to my room the disaster of my belongings exploded on the bed faced me and I moaned with exhaustion, wishing for a fairy godmother to magically pack it up. Instead I called BC while lying on the bed in a stupor; eventually packing while talking. Per my usual I did not fall immediately asleep - my mind was racing over details. While talking to BC, I spoke about how much I was pushing myself physically and in other ways, the tears of pent up emotions leaked out but I would not, could not fully let go. Perhaps it would have been better to have done so. There was something about talking to her, or talking with someone not part of this allowed all the vulnerability of this come to the fore.

For the first time this trip I got too hot while sleeping - it was a delic

ious annoyance. In the morning I showered again, just because I could! We all met up for breakfast at Hell's Backbone, again the food was excellent and oh my god, real coffee! I decided to pass on the Anasazi Museum which was fortunate as I had forgotten that I had scheduled an interview with a writer from the Art Calender, which went very well(I'm in this issue).

During this trip I find myself randomly sexually hungry and wish BC were here. It feels a little different out here, more primal, organic. Maybe in all the big silences out here one can feel, hear their body better. I just feel it ride through for the moments it's present until some other stimuli takes precedence.

Now we are in Devil's Garden, inside the Escalante Staircase National Monument. We will head next to Dance Hall Rock where we will camp for the night. Tomorrow is another night elsewhere. All of us are in different dyads or alone right now. There is a nice breeze floating over the landscape which obscures the sun's heat a bit. At one point while walking around the hoodoos, I could not hear or see any of our party - thought about what having that sort of space is like, to be connected and yet not at all; each of us in

our own world within arelatively small acreage. It is a luxury few of us have with any regularity, some almost never. I wonder if some folks, particularly the very city bound would find this scary - this big sky, silence except for pure nature, meandering paths that exist in the wild. No lines, or lights to help them pinpoint themselves in place and time; how many would cower under the moonlight, hearing the wind careening through these canyons, find

the layers of flaking mud on the Harris Wash unearthly.

The silence at night, on cold hard earth is one the loneliest moments for me, even as I take pleasure to be far from what I know. Physically uncomfortable, little is soft, the air cold, confined by a mummy sleeping bag, I suppose some would find this almost akin to torture. I rather relish the discomfort of the body and soul in this discreet time. It is a

challenge to let go of expectation, to be in the now, to try not to yearn for the other world.