Ten Years Ago Today

On this date in 2001 I departed Northampton to begin my drive across country to meet my then wife who have moved almost two months ahead of me. I piled the last of the belongings from our home, my beloved Niya cat (5/1995 - 12/2010) and a heavy heart.

The next morning as I was leaving Buffalo, news of the first attack made my ears. An already surreal experience suddenly became more so than I could have ever imagined. I wrote an email to friends most nights from the road. I am pasting that collection of ramblings, unedited here. Make of it what you will.

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My Travels Thus Far – September 12, 2001

Hello all,

Well. To say that my last few days in Northampton were surreal would be an understatement only made more surreal by driving yesterday.

I left Mass on Monday morning, landing in Buffalo later that day. I was entertained by my friend and their lovely daughter, fed a wonderful meal and had a good sleep. Well, good except that like a child my cat woke me for no apparent reason at 2:30am. Darci and I blithely chatted in the morning with no tv on so I had no idea what my day would bring on

Tuesday morning.

I plotted my day's journey expecting to land in Elkhart Indiana to stay at my brother-in-law's. I checked voicemail and had already received 2 messages informing me of event. I called Chris who filled me in while I listened to reports on the radio.

As I traveled west listening to the reports I felt like I was lost in "The War of the Worlds" as I had no picture of what was happening. At times it was had to drive because growing up in NYC it was impossible to imagine that the towers were gone. It seemed too terrible, too unlikely, too frightening in the unknown of it all.

Upon landing in Elkhart I finally saw the pictures. I was grateful that I was so tired, too tired to have too much emotion.

Today, Wednesday I landed in Milwaukee, a slight detour from my destination to see my mentor. So far it's been a lovely visit and Niya is especially making their home, hers. Except for their dog, who wants to be her friend (he's a 9-year-old miniature collie who's losing sight

and hearing and has an injured leg). I intend to head out fairly early in the morning and my goal is to make it to Des Moines Iowa. The day after that I hope to end in North Platt Nebraska. Depends on caffeine intake, enough sleep and how much my cat objects to the hours in the car.

I will continue to update when I can.

Travels – The Next Installment 14, September 2001

Hello dear ones,

As I continue my drive National Public Radio has been a consistent companion along with my mostly sleeping cat. Occasionally Niya will comment on apparently nothing at all, perhaps she disapproves of my music choices, or is voicing distress over our political state.

I have surpassed all my goals for driving so far. As of today, Friday, I have driven over 2000 miles! The views have been amazing so far. The variety and beauty of this land is so vast. Indiana is unbelievably flat and filled with cornfields. The route from the South Bend, IN area to Milwaukee WI was mostly boring, crowded, citified and had way too many tolls! Niya especially hated the tolls - I had to open the window each time, which elicited, each time, a disdainful yowl. However, leaving Milwaukee and traveling the southwest section of Wisconsin was really how I think of Wisconsin - gently rolling hills, farms and cows.

Iowa was so incredibly gorgeous. Lush hills and valleys, absolutely bucolic, green, the living vision of fertility. The same day I left Milwaukee and drove through Iowa my goal had been to make to Des Moines, but I was in a groove and kept driving til I has in Omaha Nebraska, 525 miles total! I found a slightly skuzzy motel room with a lovely view of a construction site right in the "back yard". I realized I still had not seen one plane up in the skies the entire trip.

Today I drove with the aim of ending in Cheyenne, Wyoming. The evening before I could not believe how boring, industrial, and ugly Omaha was, at least what I had seen of it. I flopped in the bed and was blown away by the fact that I was in Nebraska. It seemed so weird. I mean Nebraska! But oh how wrong I was about the beauty that Nebraska holds.

Driving through the state was incredible (I think I am so road tired that I am running out of adjectives - sorry!). I had thought that in Iowa one could see for miles - it's nothing compared to the land view in Nebraska. It was like looking out the ends of the earth. What's really amazing is that you are not looking from the vantage point of height like in the New England; it's all so level. Sometimes the large expanse of nothingness (not truly of course, but no cities, no buildings, etc) seemed scary, claustrophobic. There was a small farm, small house and a barn or two surrounded by acres and acres of tilled land. And beyond the tilled land - nothing, except for the highway on one side.

And the view of the skies! So awe inspiring. I could see the storm I was driving into for miles ahead. When it seemed like I was right under it, I still wasn't, but also to the right I could see beautiful clear skies with wispy clouds. The vista was so all encompassing of the different weather conditions. Further into the state hills appeared with shrubs scattered on the surfaces. In the distance the shrubs looked like a man's stubble on the planes of a face. About 40 miles from the border, up on the left is a large silhouette of a coyote up on the hill. Quite amusing.

Oh then Wyoming! So beautiful. Late in Nebraska and continuing into Wyoming the landscape is not as flat but marked with striking outcroppings of rock forming shapes and ledges. The road often takes such a gentle climb it's almost unnoticeable - except for the huffing and puffing of the truck. In Medicine Bow National Forest I drove through more rain, this time light, and then to my right the most incredible rainbow I think I've ever seen. It seemed so much wider than any other. Also I was able to see both ends! So beautiful and magical. In Arlington WY, there is an "A" up on a hill - I suspect it's not a state/city-sanctioned thing but it was amusing.

There were times where I am sure I saw more cattle than all the people on the road for at least 100 miles. Cows in all sorts of colors have been everywhere, along with sheep and bison (buffalo). I also saw deer or perhaps elk along side the road much later in the day. I have seen seagulls so far from a body of water. In Wyoming there was a body of water with lots of red floating somethings. The only thing I could think of was cranberry bogs.

Today I landed, finally, in Rawlins, Wyoming. I drive way past my goal by about 120 miles. Today mileage was 631. I was quite exhausted after all that. When checking into the hotel (much nicer than yesterday's) my hands were still vibrating. I have approximately 1150 miles to go. I don't know if I can keep the pace of the last two days - if I can I will be in my new, temporary home on Sunday and in the arms of my beloved.

Travels Continue 18 September 2001

Hello everyone

Sorry to be so long since the last post, I tried fruitlessly to post on Saturday night from Winnemucca Nevada but to no avail.

When I last left off I was in Rawlins, Wyoming, staying at a very nice Sleep Inn, a driveway away from a 24-hour family truck stop restaurant and gift shop. Gotta love the road. The morning fog was so thick that I could not see the interstate or the mountains just yards away to the south.

It was hard to imagine any fog could be that thick. After a filling but mediocre truck stop breakfast Niya and I became one with the road once again. After a short time on the road I passed a sign for the Continental Divide, elevation 7,000 ft. Wow. Here the area surrounding the road for miles was flat with mountains suddenly sweeping up, particularly to the south. Again the sky appears so vast out here. Today the sky was clear (once that pesky fog burned off, which it had by the time I finished breakfast!) with no sign of rain anywhere. Wyoming is incredibly beautiful. I want to return and spend time finding the towns that I know are contained within the twists and turns the roads off the interstate take.

As I was driving off to the right I passed a single elk or antelope or whatever member of the type of species occupies that area. He was so beautiful and close that I could see the markings on his horns as a buzzed by at approximately 80 miles per hour. (The speed limit is 75 mph in Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah, and Nevada - I wasn't speeding! honest. Okay those moments when I hit 82 or better maybe one could consider that speeding.) The animal was so still and beautiful in the midmorning light. The towns spread out more and more as I drove west and the mountains came into better view. In New England the mountains are so covered with tall growth that one doesn't see much of the crags and wrinkles in the rock that forms the massive eruptions. Out west in the distance the mountains seem to show the years of millieum written with their jags and folds laid bare to sun and shadow. The earth shows subtle changes in the reddish brown that become clearer as you drive closer, though it seems one is always still so many miles away from them.

Driving toward the town of Rock Springs the mountains jump alive with new colors, like a wide paintbrush clumped irregularly has colored the surfaces with white, taupe, and chestnut. Again the mountains are bare with little to interrupt the horizontal stripes. It is so beautiful and so startlingly to approach a town of some size for the first time in hours upon hours of traveling. The town's name while trite is so appropriate, the mountains seem to suddenly emerge in front of one while driving a previously flat forward view.

Somewhere along this route I saw a black shape on the side of the road and as I came closer I realized it was a cow, far from any others in a position that could only mean that he or she had wandered too far away and was now dead. This particular dead animal was sad to me, though I had seen so many animals killed by humans safely contained in steel. Maybe because cows are a herd species and this beast seemed so much closer to the road than other bovines I had seen.

Saturday afternoon I crossed into Utah, which seemed like a milestone in traveling this large expanse. For the first time this trip the mountains are right upon me and I am driving in what feels like a crevice between rock faces. Here the mountains show their crags but also have trees springing up and like colorful plumage on birds these trees are announcing autumn with yellow, bronze and red disturbing the green. Rather suddenly it seemed I was on the crest of what had surely been a large basin, which is now Salt Lake City with what just has to be a shrunken lake. As I entered the city limits I saw my first planes since I entered the Buffalo, New York region early Monday evening. Even though planes flying is so commonplace, especially for someone raised in New York City, which seems to always have at least a half dozen planes in the air at any given moment, today it seemed such an odd site and at the same time a triumphant gesture of new beginnings.

And then the lake. Huge and blue with sail boats, motorboats cruising. But again I couldn't help feeling that a million years ago this huge body of water was hundreds time this size. Though it's a salt-water body, the smell is of sulfur and not altogether pleasant. Not as strong as the sulfur springs I remember from my last drive out west. Since that trip was about 27 years ago I can't remember what state this was in. The piles of salt are huge, reminding me of the snow piles in parking lots of shopping malls in New England. These mounds are easily 4-5 train cars long and about 3 cars high. At one point there is the lake all the way right with train tracks the next few feet over, then a canal of water, then Interstate 80 heading west, another canal of water, the Interstate heading east bounded by more water. It's hard to believe that the road I'm driving on is solid enough for me to be on with my truck loaded with the remainder of my Massachusetts belongings causing it to sit at least 3 inches lower than usual.

Soon the landscape changes again and it is flat, flat, flat, with mountains so far in the distance that they seem to belong to another state. I've entered the Great Salt Lake Desert and the Bonneville Saltflats. To each side of the road is sand and salt with the only other color being the stones and rocks that are mostly black adding stark contrast. It feels wind blown like a beach but the only water is to the north, which one can't see from the road. In fact in looking a map now (to help recall the trip) is when I noticed that there is another lake.

Near the border there is a rest stop and my curiosity and the realization that I may never be here again cause me to do something I haven't done the entire trip. I stop. I get out of my truck for something other than gas, food or sleep. One can walk on the salt flats here. Perhaps it is a need caused by my alternative persona who is Tuareg, a people who harvest and trade salt. After parking I walk on asphalt, cement, pebbles and then the salt. It is hard and crusted, baked into a solid mass. There is a family with several kids being silly and running around, and making designs with the dark pebbles on the stark salt. It reminds me of recipes for things like salt-crusted cod. I reach down to try to scrap a few grains, it takes great effort. I rub the grains between my fingers, coarser than table salt, but nowhere near the size or clearness of gourmet salt from France.

I return to the truck happy I stopped, and happy that I am ten miles from Nevada.

Next chapter - Nevada the land of nothing.

The Journay Almost Complete – Nevada 18 September 2001

Hello again my patient readers,

Crossing the border into Nevada is a bit surreal. After the great nothingness of the Great Salt Desert there is the early foreshadowing of Nevada. There are casinos within the first few miles, and then nothing again. Only after driving about, oh maybe 100 miles do you come to a town of any consequence, Elko. There isn't much. Of course after all the times I've seen this during my journey you would think I would be used to it. Maybe it's because I grew up in New York City, but I continued to be surprised at how much nothing there could be in a town. Actually Elko had a "strip" with stores, strip malls and what-have-you but beyond what you could see I suspect there wasn't a lot more. To the south of the interstate there was nothing visible, to the north was the strip and I'm sure some side roads off into large stretches between homesteads. To the east and west the interstate. My goal for the day was Winnemucca, which I did succeed in reaching, 647 miles from the start of my day. Between Elko and Winnemucca the only town of note was Battle Mountain with billboards announcing the casinos. I cruised past doggedly in pursuit of Winnemucca.

I found a very decent place to spend the night but before sleeping decided that I really needed dinner. Okay I confess my brain was road dead. I got back in my truck and drive about a half a mile up the road to the Red Lion Inn/Casino/Restaurant. It was bright, smoky and noisy. Here I was finally in front of slot machines and unfortunately those one-armed bandits had elevated themselves beyond a simple pull of a lever. There were buttons and multiple lines upon which one *could* win. My eyes were tired and I needed food. There was to be no channeling my grandmother tonight. (For those that don't already know, my grandmother was famous for her low-level but consistent gambling - bingo, Atlantic City trips and lottery tickets. The day before she died she was in Atlantic City - she had won $400 that day. She came home and died before breakfast.)

Waking up on Sunday I knew I had so many fewer miles to go, and though Niya had persisted in keeping me barely asleep from 2:30am to 4:30am I was eager to complete my trip. I found a wonderful place for breakfast. If you ever find yourself near Winnemucca during anything resembling breakfast hours run, don't walk, to The Griddle. Great food,nice atmosphere, cheap prices and large servings. I would go back in a heartbeat even though it would mean being in Nevada.

The drive through Nevada on Saturday was remarkedly dull and apparently devoid of rational thought as it was almost impossible through the entire state to find an NPR station. Perhaps I was just plain tired of driving but it was hard to rejoice in the landscape here. There was just nothing. I drove for hours without seeing any indication of life form, not even cattle.

Today, Sunday, the mountains seemed more colorful. I listened to Patsy Cline and early kd lang. It seemed the best possible music for the day. Here too the colors of sand and white salt seemed prevalent. More endearing and less destructive forms of graffeti abound on the road - black rocks are formed into names and sayings on the sides of the road. Unfortunately they were hard to read if they are too close the road - the distant ones easier to read while speeding by.

Since I hit Reno in the morning I suspect I missed the glitter but perhaps I will see it another time. Here again I saw a couple of planes, still an infrequent enough sight that it surprises me. Suddenly I thrust into the Sierra Nevada mountain range inside the Tahoe National Forest. Here I am riding at great heights along the sides of mountains with bright rivers on one side and then the other. California, I am now in the state that is to be my home. It's hard to fathom - I'm here already and I'm finally here - all at once. Chris and I are talking on and off as I get closer. The drive becomes less important and the destination is everything. Almost. Suddenly I see hills again and again they are so different. Here the mounds are wheat colored, deep yellow, with the surface looking plush and velvety, mottled with trees,tall and deep colored. Again I marvel at how different these lumps of rock and earth can look. And then water to my right, stretched out before me, beckoning. Yes, this part the landscape is the thing that makes being on the coast, the west coast so marvelous. I can be so near water.

Chris and I agree to meet at off an exit near her office. I see the little red car she's been driving compliments of our friend Tracy (Suzi's partner). She gets out of the car, the wind blowing hard against her and I open my door to come out. We hold each other and I can feel her belly shake as she cries. She tells me that I smell good and remarks how long my hair has gotten. We release, go back to our respective cars and I follow her to the Richmond Field Station, University of California Berkeley - the place that has brought us both here, far from what had been home. 3207 miles from home.

Random Leftovers Thoughts from The Road 20 September 2001

Hi again. Bet you thought I was done ;-)

In Milwaukee I got to eat in the new baseball stadium. Obviously this was during the moratorium on sports so the field was quiet. This stadium is beautiful and smaller than the old one to enhance the intimacy and the immediacy of the game. It was built on the same plot as the old one but where the actual old ball field was is where they are building a little league field so the kids "can play where the greats played".

In Iowa: The Museum of the Danish Immigrant. Also, a Danish Windmill

Somewhere, sorry I don't remember: The Museum of the Mountain Man (honest!)

Billboards in Nevada: "Police hide behind these" (I saw two of these)

"Keep your eyes on the road - hard isn't it"

"The King of Cha-ching" - for the Silverado Casino, you just have to say it out loud - I did!

An exit in Nevada (recalled especially for Ann): Ramusen Road (I may have the exact spelling wrong)

In the middle of the Great Salt Desert in the distance is this tall narrow structure, I can't figure out what it would be, but I'm guessing something to do with radar, sonar - one of those -ars. But no, it's "art". A tall pole with various sizes of balls or globes painted with odd colors jutting out at irregular intervals and distances from the pole. Looks like it was done in 50's or early 60's but who knows. Also out here a random american flag stuck in the middle of nowhere. In the distance I think it was placed there for the recent world events, but upon driving closer this flag is faded and ragged - I have no idea why it's there.

Marking the mountains with initials of a city name is fairly common. I had seen what I thought was an unofficial marking in Arlington WY, I still think it was not a sanctioned marking as it was quite faint. I saw a distinct "C" in Carlin Nevada, and an "L" in Lovelock Nevada.

The colors in the mountains in all the states vary so much and are beautiful in their complexity. Peachy oranges, terra cotta, dusty mint green, ochre, gray-green, green, brown, taupe, white, chestnut, raspberry sherbet pinks and every shade leading into and out of these.

While I hadn't been worried about being on the road in terms of my safety (though others were) I was concerned about my ability to drive this distance and a tad antsy about my sanity with this much time alone (no offense to Niya). I felt completely safe in terms of bodily harm, getting scammed, etc. The truck held up fine. Until this trip I hadn't driven farther than about 250 miles/4 hours by myself. This trip took 7 days (Monday -Sunday) and 3207 miles. My shortest day was just over 200 miles, my longest day was 647 miles (which is way toooooooo long by the way). I have learned that my comfort zone is about 400-475 miles in a day, although the day of 525 miles wasn't too bad actually.

I have learned why people who only talk to animals the bulk of their day sound the way the do. You get used to the non-response so your linguistic style changes. That was scary. ;-) On Saturday I started to truly get a little lonely but at the same time more comfortable being by myself. I think that I could do a trip like this again, even longer and maintain my sense of humor. Next time I will take a little voice recorder because there was so much detail I forgot, even when I got to write the same night.

Well I guess that's probably all I can remember. Thank you all for listening to my little (okay, long) monologue.

Now that you no longer have to send travel prayers, Chris and I would like you to think good home hunting thoughts. I have seen 8 places already (today is Thursday morning) and driven by a few others. Still hunting. Once settled I will send you our new address and phone number(s) and extend invitations for you to visit, though I can't guarantee premier sleeping accommodations - hope you like the floor and sleeping bags ;-).

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Hope you enjoyed the trip.

love

Samantha

Life is all around

Today, upon exiting my cabin, I scared the last fledgling that had just left the nest next to my door. The little critter was on the grass just past the porch and was startled into a hopping, not quite flying motion before settling back on the grass a few feet away. (You can see a small black box if you look up for the string of the sky chair, which is the speaker, perched atop that is the nest.)

Last summer the nest was empty, th

is year every time I left my home, or crossed onto the porch, the mama bird swooped out of the nest, flying to a nearby tree. A few weeks ago the high pitched squawking announced that hatching had occurred. I believe there were 2-3 of the little beings.

This

last one grew visibly in the last week, becoming less gawky looking as time progressed. He, or she would cling to the nest and flap it's wings

wildly in the last few days, but still afraid, or not strong enough to unclench it's claws from the twiggy mess.

Later today, I discovered Dora, the cat of the main house has gone and killed me a mouse - a fat one at that. Still later, I startled a fawn just on the other side of the fencing that protects the gardens. So much nature here, I love it.

All this development reminds me of all the gro

wing I've done in the last two years, and especially the last year since taking residence here at the cabin (the blessed abode for which I am grateful for every.single.day). Though I haven't written a great deal in the last several months, so much continues to shift inside, and out. This week is my last at my Crime Victims Assistance Program job - I am terribly sad about leaving. There is SO much more for me to learn and I really like it there. It has been amazing to discover I can like a job, especially one that is close to my chosen field. Later this month I will find out about my internship placement - which has me excited and a bit nervous. A month after that school starts. A whole new journey, one long in coming. I feel ready for school this time around in a fashion that I didn't have before - determination is a word that floats around my head a good deal when thinking about this program.

Life just keeps moving forward.

Day 13, May 1, 2010

Yesterday I stayed at the campsite - stretching, taking a few photos, journaling, and napping. Especially considering the new plan we intended to spring on Greg about hiking out the next day (today) this turned out to be very wise.

Katie, Meredith, Matt and I packed up and headed out at 9:30 (Saturday). Slogging through the sand was once again a bear and I felt slower than ever but of course I was with the faster hikers. We took breaks about every 50 minutes.

When the upper trail was in view I faced the fear of

the vertical dirt scramble. We took a break just before attacking it. I sat with my traveling buddha statue (he as a little hobo bag!) in hand, back straight, trying to let go of fear, meditating that some way or another I would get up this crevice of dirt and rock, even if it meant asking Matt to take my pack. Meredith went first, and Matter was below when I begin my ascent. "Go up sideways, that worked going down", advised Matt. "Use your stick girl!", called Meredith.

Amazingly I made in it one attempt. Meredith beamed at me when I stood at the top - "You did that in one move, no stops. You're awesome!" It was one of my best moment of facing fears, digging deep for strength during a trip that had many such internal rallies and moment of pride. The accomplishments of this trip were many, and this might have been the best one.

We made it back to the car in 5hr, 40min - two hours less than going in. Janet said I sucked when she found out I made it up that pass in one go with my pack and how fast, "And without

training for this!" Yep, I'm proud of myself.

More later just too tired, need to shower (YAY!) and brush my teeth before heading to bed. Tomorrow we drive to Salt Lake City.

Day 12 April 30, 2010

Wednesday the winds from the night before were worse and I stayed behind. It was an odd day of solitude, I spent about 6 hours in silence - reading, writing, thinking, and a nap.

The sound of the winds were inescapable except when I was in Katie's care, which was so hot and hadn't the energy to ask Matt (who was cocooned in his tent) for the keys to open the windows. I think I associate these kings of wind with storms so it was interesting not to have clouds most of the day.

When the sounds of air moving at howling rates across the mesa were too enervating to do anything but to lie still, I was able to compare the changes in speed and the resultant sounds to ocean waves. It was fun to do that, for a while, not the entire six hours. Unlike the ocean tides hitting the shore there was no grand great plan or order, it simply was.

Yesterday's hike to the Arch, pushed my limits hard. It is estimated we hiked around 7.5 miles. With stops and figuring out the trail, whether to take the high route or not, it took us just shy of seven hours. Matt and Meredith had gone up ahead of the rest us during the final stretch, and bless Matt's heart - he not only carried my tent (which was actually his since the one I borrowed for the trip was killed by the wind storm) during the hike, and my therma-rest pad for half of it, but he had set up my tent first thing when they hit our camp site before us.

Greg said, while I was climbing up from yet another river crossing, refusing a hand again, that he was surprised by my strength and determination on this trip but he didn't know why given how it's there in other areas of my life. I responded by saying I was just stubborn. He said stubborn isn't always such a bad thing to be.

Once getting to Jacob Hamblin Arch I was please to see very little in the way of cow patties that had marked most of the hike out. While it has been sweet to see cows not penned in, to see them along the road, and especially idyllic to see that fawn colored mama and calf in a shaded glen on the trail yesterday, one has to wonder about the impact on the land and water we have been transversing. Though fun in a twisted way to see shit piles in various phases of petrification, many looking like interesting sculptures, it is a reminder that this is a wilderness study area and not protected. What is the impact for the native wildlife, the soil, water sources? How does one get a dead cow out of some the places we hiked yesterday - what happens if they can't.

At one point during the hike Katie said she felt she had aged 25 years doing this march in. I rolled that phrase around in my brain, on my tongue but it had no resonance for me. If anything despite the exhaustion I felt, and would feel upon arriving at our camp site, it seemed this whole trip made me feel younger somehow, as if doing something far out of my scope, experience, and comfort zone fed my soul, made me realize how much could lie ahead for me if I so choose. It was an enthralling realization and probably helped to get me the next 3 miles despite feeling completely depleted of resources.

A year onwards

A year ago today, at least in terms of the day of the week, the first Friday of May I arrived here at my cabin - sad, actually distraught, confused. Actually as I type this it is close to the exact time I arrived here. Funny that.

Once again, like last year, like two years ago, like many times, I am not where I thought I'd be. However, I have also been happier in the last year, than perhaps ever in my life. As it's been a year, I will in the next week finally finish posting the journal entries from my trip to Utah last year. I know that I delays writing them because of all that happened after I returned. Though I knew there was a shift between BC and me before I left, I had no idea how big, because she never shared any of what was going on with her, with me. I returned from Utah on Monday with hope and had a glorious almost 2 days of reunion with her before everything fell apart. Friday morning at 6am I was pulling out of her driveway with my car loaded to the brim. Writing about Utah would mean facing everything. And in truth I have faced but it seems I still needed some more time before finishing those posts. Now it's time to fully move on in this other somewhat symbolic way.

When I left Dayton in March 2009 I wanted to shift my status quo, question my assumptions about myself. I have done that a great deal, and continue to - or else I would have never done a lot of what I've done in the last two years. Lived like a gypsy - happily, traveled, rode rollercoasters (literally and metaphorically), walked a 5K in less than an hour, hiked and backpacked for two weeks in Utah, began rock climbing, wrote for internet content mills (and even got a few dollars for it!), journaled daily for over 13 weeks, etc.

Through working off personal loans, and actually paying off other debts- I will shortly have cleared over $6000 off my plate. This is huge. Soon I hope to only owe my student loans, which is a huge amount but so much better. As it turns out I will be adding to that amount as I have been accepted back into graduate school and will be returning in the fall.

So despite some ups and downs of late, what with the anniversary of the ending of the relationship, some deaths, the nail biting wait to see if I got into school, and a stressful but satisfying new job, I remain happy, still growing, and stretching my boundaries of self definition.

Day 11 Thursday April 29th

(It's been forever, I know, nearly a year but I will finish the last few entries.)

I am now at Jacob Hamlin Arch. It's been a very long day. The winds continued and given the condition of the tent I slept in the car which was less than comfortable. The best guess is that the winds settled around two in the morning. One cool thing about the disturbed sleep was seeing the moon set low in the western edge of the sky.

Waking before 7am the air was cool and the sky was clear in the east but a bit foreboding in the west. We all had a lot of prepping to do for the next section of the journey. Eventually we were all loaded up, many kudos to Matt (a recurring theme of this trip) for helping me then and later. Drove south on Hole in the Rock Road to Redwell trail head.

Once parked, we all took a moment to stretch before heading out at 10:37am. Initially the trail was not too bad and I had a good pace but slowed a bit later. There was some serious scrambling up and down hills, which gave me pause thinking of the climb back. Along much of this there were tracks of cows (and their deposits). As I went practically crawling up some of the inclines, I kept reminding myself that if a cow did this, than I could. Nonsensical but it provided a mantra to get me through. The hike was hard and long, at least 7 miles and the last two or so were particularly trying for me as my body was hurting, my limits stretched.

There were many river crossings starting about half way into the hike which tested everyone's balance on rocks, logs, and other flotsam. In addition we discovered that Matt missed his calling as a bridge engineer. The scenery was much greener, more lush than the last few days.

As we got close to where the trails converged the canyon walls got more beautiful - rich in desert varnish, mineral deposits adding incredible depth to the expanse of rock face. In one place there was the most amazing smoky whites to dark blue-purples striping the wall randomly.

Finally we got to where Redwall and Hurricane Wash meet up - from here it was supposedly a mile, it felt (and I think was) much longer.

Finally Greg said he thought he saw a glimpse of the arch, I thought I saw it as well but I did not dare hope as I trudged along. Happily it was the arch - grand, majestic - words barely capture the visceral reaction to this awe inspiring place.

My body hurts, I'm cold. We've had dinner, the sun is starting to go down as it's after 8pm. There is so much to say about yesterday, alone all day with the howling

winds, howmuch the wind takes out of you, the incessant noise scratches at your brain. More later.

Caught in the Light

You are always beautiful. Often your hair flows, slides, down across your shoulders, your face, your back. Yes, frequently it needs to be brushed but it always seems to beg my fingers to drift through it. There are times you look studious, or sometimes you look like this

It's hard to believe how much that expression is like yours but of course since you never see yourself do this you just have to trust me on this.

Your eyes are amazing, the color shifting to greener, or less green with dark lashes, attentive, smiling, serious.

But sometimes, like late last night when you reached over me to grab something in the dusky light of the bedroom, you look.... something beyond common beauty and take my breath away. It only lasts a moment but it stirs something deep and strong in me; if I get cold I should simply recall that brief glimpse because it warms me. It's special, intangible moments like that make what we have so lovely - being able to take in single moments, relishing them, you, us in the here and now.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Twisted Advertising

(I have not seen the movie, nor do I have any plans to, just to clarify my total lack of knowledge of the true plot line or ending.)

First the idea that there's been a movie produced on the premise of a "no strings attached" (NSA) arrangement is ludicrous. However I noticed, in a rare moment of paying real attention to commercials, that they are selling this as the first date movie of 2011. Really? So a movie about a sexually convenient relationship is a good movie for a new romance?

Now I am not a prude, in fact I had a few of those before such there was a descriptive term for it. I am in fact "involved" with someone where we do not talk about the future or "us", not a bit. Nor am I joined at the hip with the concept of monogamy but I am not getting this. Perhaps it's part of the "Pretty Woman" syndrome of movies - the most unlikely arrangement results in love and implied foreverness; the idea that getting the milk for free (or not so free in the case of P.W.) results in the guy buying the cow despite conventional wisdom.

It further cements the notion that women can change men, that women are always ultimately looking for a relationship regardless of what they say. This implied message is what galls the most about this movie and others like it. Women will connive, seduce, flatter, anything to not cop to the fact that they want a relationship; and in fact are not all that picky about who they want to settle down with. The idea that women need without rational thought, without regard for anyone else's feelings to pair off and ideally mate asap because there is an invisible, inaudible clock propelling them towards merciless one track functioning when it comes to dating is disrespectful at best, and misogynistic to the nth degree at worst (and is the more likely reality).

Now I realize I watch plenty of movies that do no service to women, and enjoy them. For example I just finished watching the entire Thin Man series with Myrna Loy and William Powell. While I took great pleasure in the witty repartee, the lovely fashions, and the relative innocence of sexuality, occasionally I winced as Nora Charles is portrayed as not particularly clever (sometimes rather dense in fact) and seen as offering little to the solution of the crimes. The next series I will be viewing is all the James Bond movies - the ultimate in women as eye candy, especially in the early days. Now there is a bit of redemption here because some of the maniacal evil geniuses are women, and some of the later movies have more admirable female characters - small steps.

Why is this movie getting under my skin so bad? Good question, one I wish I could answer with anything like clarity. An excellent feminist dissection would be great but apparently I don't have it in me. I just know there are images bother me more than others. Perhaps the rapid fire witty dialog of Nice and Nora soothe me, maybe the sexy outfits, great chase scenes, and fabulous cars distract me. I don't know. I do know that the Charles' are a remnant of another time, a time when women had barely had the vote; Bond movies have evolved, albeit slower that molasses runs in a Vermont February but there has been some improvement. Movies like NSA just earn my annoyance, rise my ire, and generally make me haunt Netfl*x for more interesting options than mass market movies.

A Busy Time in Brooklyn

As previously noted I went to a film showing at Tabla Rasa on Tuesday night but earlier that day I also went to the Gowanus Print Lab to meet master printer Deborah Chaney who is working with Greg on a series of etchings he is producing from our trip to Utah. They are just beginning the work, and as I had never seen this process I was eager to take a peek, as well as to meet Deborah to find out more about production and pricing.

Deborah was a lovely hostess in her studio, watching her work was fascinating. I did a brief "photo essay" of our time there which you can view here. I hadn't intended to spend the entire 3+ hours there but I became engrossed in the process and wanted to see a print produced. I was lucky enough to see two done.

Tonight we had plans to attend an event at Central Booking, but the fates had other plans. We left to catch dinner at Bubby's in DUMBO. Traffic between the Slope and DUMBO was crazy but both Greg and I decided to just go with the flow. Bubby's is in a fabulous location between the two bridges - the views from our table was stunning. The space itself is huge but doesn't feel lonely or like an empty tunnel with sound bouncing off the walls. Service was great, their ethics on local foods wonderful, and the food was scrumptious.

We were supposed to go to this event at Central Booking but between traffic and a lovely meal we were running late. Thinking we could just sneak in the back, we confidently strode over to find a locked door. However as luck would have it was an open studio night at the building so we poked around a bit, and heeding Janet's suggestion popped over to the Brooklyn Arts Council. We found ourselves there just in time for a talk with artist Otto Neals and Emmett Wigglesworth. It was amazing to stumble on this, I loved this talk. Otto Neals is the most gorgeous 80 year old I've even seen, and has the most beautiful voice. Emmett is passionate, with an enthusiasm for life that is infectious. Greg had worked Emmett when he was at the Department of Education in the 1990s. Emmett commissioned to do a mural in P.S. 181 in Brooklyn - quite a big deal. "You can't worry about being famous, you need to look at what you contributed." It was a very uplifting talk. Also they both worked with the Dorsey Gallery, which is where, I'm pretty sure, we had the memorial for Cynthia Belgrave - we celebrated her life and her art. Sweet ties.

After that finished we found our way back to Central Booking, and though the door was locked we were let in - the talk there was just winding down! While the art in this space was amazing, I think we wound up in the one that suited our moods and temperments better.

Shortly after we arrived home Janet followed with the proof of a small book project they have been working on - very exciting end to the day. Look for information on this book in coming months!

Soon I am off to bed because tomorrow we leave for Miami! Art Basel, partying with Alex and Allyson Grey, and looking at art until our eyes bleed!

A History Lesson

Tonight I went to Tabla Rasa Gallery with Greg and Janet for a few purposes. One was that Audrey and Joseph Anastasi asked them to contribute some works to a new small show, to introduce me to them, and finally to view the documentary "RFK In The Land of Apartheid: A Ripple of Hope".

First, this is shot beautifully, the music is lovely, and a nicely told piece of history. It is a piece of history I had no idea of; growing up JFK was revered, King was honored above most, but RFK? I knew he was assassinated. After viewing this I want to know more. But even more than that I want to know why I have never heard of Chief Albert Lutuli who was the first African to win the Nobel Peace Prize in 1960. Okay, I realize I have never spent a lot of time studying South Africa but why is Mandela held up, outside of SA as the only mover and shaker there? According to Tami Gold, Lutuli is held as a hero not just of South Africa but the whole continent.

I am not going to be lucid on this topic because my mind is racing a bit from the images, the voices, and the emotions the film raised in me.

From Day of Affirmation Speech, delivered at Cape Town University, June 6, 1966:

It is from numberless diverse acts of courage such as these that the belief that human history is thus shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.

In many ways this is how I see the world which is why I think of even small acts, words as important. Recently I was thinking about this while doing an assignment for my Certificate Program in Victim Advocacy; it included a selection of examples where racism and other prejudice were being displayed. My answers never included silence even when it could have cause major problems. In reality I have sometimes been silent when safety is an issue, or am just at a loss. I don't want that to be continue to be the case. I will continue to say something every time, because I believe in the power of a ripple.

Shots of home

I talk about my nest all the time and mostly no one has seen it.

So without further ado....

The driveway, it's about a 1/10 of a mile long and I cannot see the mailbox from any location, even when all the foliage falls.

View from my desk or the couch, which is opposite the desk.

A basket of yarn that mocks me

as I procrastinate knitting (though there has been some improvement in that area).

The second cord of wood before stacking, some of which was done by me, the last of it by kind fairies (aka The Boys, I bless each and every one of the - I have good friends).

Sister Act

In many ways I have many sisters who are not biological. There are women in my life who are soulmate type sisters of varying degrees, history, etc. However in truth I have a biological sister, well half-sister (which is such an odd phrase, I mean she is a whole person and all that) in that we share the same father. She has a twin, my half-brother and they are close what with being twins, having a matching set of parents, being raised together all. Along with having different mothers, they are eleven years younger than I am, we lived in the same house when they were 0-1 years of age, and again when they were 5-6, so not much lived history.

As the eldest sibling I did take care them, learned to balance a baby on each hip rather early, and generally doted over them, thought they were the cutest things on earth. But I didn't really know them. In some ways I still don't, but in much the same vein I still love them, am devoted to them in my heart, and I would do anything I could to help them. However I doubt they would ever come to me in an emergency, I mean they have each other.

In my mid to late teens they were still very young and just saw me, I think, as an oddity. I didn't dress like their friends, right after graduating high school I left home, and I moved - a lot. To further add to their "who is she and how are we related??", I came out as a lesbian. Initially I think they tried to ignore this as much as possible. In fairness they were about 12 when I told them, and anyone's sexuality is an odd thing to cope with at that point. Mostly their response was silence, except to ask me to not do PDAs with my girlfriend when we were out together. A few years later it seemed that it was conveniently cool to have a lesbian sister, then it just was blase. Fine by me.

Over the years it is my sister and I who have more of a connection though when they were young I had been sure it was my brother and I who would get closer and stay that way. I have never had an argument with either sibling, a side benefit of largely having little to do with each other, I suppose. But neither do I have more than a handful of great memories of us together, which is a huge sadness some days for me.

Tonight I had dinner at my sister's new place (I never saw the last one though she lived there 11 years) that she shares with her beau, who I finally met. It was nice to finally see her in her space. It was a lovely evening of catching up, hearing about my brother's romantic woes (which sadden me), learning what is up with her mother, commiserating on our father's peccadilloes. It's nice to see her as she actually is, an adult woman dealing with a mature relationship, figuring out next steps. I have no illusions of us suddenly being in regular contact but it is a nice thing to be peers the last few years, and tonight was a good reminder of how family and friends can be one in the same, very different, or how friends become family, but somehow actual family tugs at our hearts in different ways no matter the time spent together.

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.