St Anthony

St Anthony, St Anthony, Please come down
Something's lost and can't be found

Something's lost and can't be found
St Anthony, St Anthony, please come around.

I am not Catholic. My grandmother (Oh Dahling, just a little more cream) was, but somehow she never managed to come up with the St Anthony prayer in our family history. Probably because she was raised Southern Baptist and found Catholicism late in life.

But Eva was. We were working in Spokane, she was my boss, and in the process of digging out at least half a dozen road cuts, I lost some very expensive bifocals. Back in the office she told me about St Anthony, the patron saint of lost things. We called on St Anthony, and next day went back to each pit, and found my glasses in the dirt at the bottom of one of them. Buried. Invisible. I became a believer.

That was back in 1998 or so, and I have used the St Anthony prayer several times. Most famous of those stories was in 2007 when he was instrumental in finding my cat lost in a Texas RV park. Recently the St Anthony prayer was invoked at a Home Depot in Klamath Falls, where Mo lost her wallet filled with military ID and lots of cash and credit cards. Within minutes of the prayer, as we stood around wondering what to do, two men drove up and asked what we were doing, and when we said looking for a lost wallet, they produced it. Twenty bucks is what I promised that time. I always promise, although a web site recently said you can't bargain with St Anthony, but you should at least show some kind of thanks.

Yosemite. I had a professional meeting there this week, with about 75 people from the Professional Soil Scientists Association of California. First day was great. A big tour bus, lots of really good discussions, capped by pizza and beer at the Curry Village where we were staying. Some of us in cabins, others like me in tent cabins, basically canvas walls with plywood floors. A bed, an old dresser, very close neighbors (several people kept awake by snoring), no bathroom. Where does St Anthony come in here?

I came home from beers, crawled into my bed and as is sometimes the case, took out my somewhat uncomfortable denture. A special pleasure of sleeping alone. I woke at 430, to pack and go to the showers, and could NOT find the denture. I spent two hours combing my tent cabin, the seams in the canvas, the bedding, the walls, my personal stuff, on and on. Finally at 630 I gave up. I loaded everything into my truck, and made some excuse about a broken denture to my boss and decided to go home. (broken was bad enough, but I couldn't bring myself to renege on the second day of the field trip due to a LOST denture???) Good god. I even took photos of every single corner in the cabin in frustration. I could not understand how a stupid denture could leave the cabin when I hadn't. I did the St Anthony prayer many times, but thought, well maybe this time it isn't going to work. I drove the 100 miles or so back to my home in Jamestown, went through all my stuff again, and finally called Camp Curry. Within minutes they called me back, some housekeeping person had found my denture. "Where??" "We don't really know, he doesn't speak english."

Needless to say, I drove the 100 miles each way back to Yosemite, wondering at the whole incredibly stupid thing, and thanking St Anthony. All sorts of symbolism came in, because throughout my life, loosing teeth has been a recurring dream, a fairly common one for humanity I hear. It's about change and fear of change and transitions and such. I had lost my teeth for real! In dreams it is a sickening feeling, as you realize your teeth are crumbling in your mouth. In real life, it was equally sickening. I actually thought a couple of times maybe I WAS dreaming, maybe I would wake up. I do love how real life symbolism can often mirror our unconscious thoughts and issues, and this was a big one. Change, Transition, Fear of Change Coming, Moving into another Stage of Life. ahh. magic. magic is everywhere. I keep forgetting that.

So I had promised 50 bucks. Same promise I made for the cat. The rule is, if at all possible, you should give anonymously, so there isn't any personal glory from the giving. I thought about giving it to a friend in need, but then realized that wasn't really the way to do it. Then Mo and I together thought about the homeless camp. So this morning I took three old vests, put 20 bucks in the pocket of each one, (an extra 10 bucks for extra thanks!) and walked up to the camp, just a few hundred yards across the highway from where I live. There are several tents there, and some people were sleeping. Finally I found a couple of women sitting and talking quietly in their tent and asked if they wanted the vests. I didn't want to hurt their pride entirely by just handing them money, but the pastel polyester vests were in the goodwill box for a reason. They were pretty weird. I said, "well, maybe you could find someone who might want them, and maybe check the pockets." I walked away out of sight before they had time to look in the pockets. It was almost as much fun as handing the young tattered father in a beat up car the 20 dollar bill I gave him for the last St Anthony find. Finding creative ways to pass out money directly is really kind of fun. Thank you, St Anthony.

Another birthday

Another birthday, another year. Yesterday while driving I had a magical mind full of thoughts to write, journaling about my life and my year past. Today, of course, when I actually have the ability to write, my thoughts are mundane and boring. I still don't want to miss it, though, this reminiscing and evaluating thing that I try to do every year. So be it.

This photo, just found recently, says more than I can express about the passing years. I was 36 here, mapping soils in the St Joe. Deanna found this photo among Lance's things and scanned it to email to me. The sweet young guys who work for me were delighted, laughing about 80's "big hair" and seeing me in a different light than the leader that I am now doing this work.

I guess the most recent life shift on my mind is Lance's death, less than a month ago. Somehow in the process of grieving, and being with my daughters who loved him, with his Mother, the exact age my own mother would have been, with his current wife and present family, somehow that whole process has given space for going back, for remembering, for again trying to sort out how life was then and how it is now.

The shift I made in those years was momentous. The shift I am making in the year to come is just as much so, although less dramatic perhaps, and yet it still feels huge to me, down inside myself. The shift I made then was all about beginnings and the future, the shift I am making now is about fruition, completion, even a bit of reward and some relaxation.

The year just past seems like a blur, and yet at the moment the only thing that really stands out about it is just how long it took to pass! This past summer seems to have passed very slowly as well, marked by travels and reviews, work and family, and of course, marked with a huge exclamation point by the travels to Spokane for Lance during that last week in August.

Hopefully as this day goes by, I'll think of something to write about this past year that will help put it all in perspective for me. For the time being, though, it seems that the year is marked by my posts on the MoHo travel tales. I work, then I go somewhere with Mo, then I work again. I can only remember how things have been by going back to that journal, and Mo and I laugh a lot about how we can only track our travels by reading our own blog. I gues that is the reason for this one as well, I know that I am trying to track my own travels, the inner ones, the life changing ones, even the boring ones. Still haven't really figured out the difference between the online journal and the paper ones except I don't have to rummage around in sheafs of paper and try to figure out where they all are anymore.

Strange world it is.

Umpqua Highway

Off to the Oregon coast

A quiet moment and a big sigh

I am sitting at my desk at work, listening to the hum of the air conditioner battling the 90 plus temperatures outside.  Summer is coming on in full force, and I am grateful for the amazing long lovely spring here in the MotherLode.  A gift. 

It is afternoon on a Friday.  My whole self, consciousness, my whole being has been focused on getting through the annual progress review.  Always challenging, always exhausting, and yet fulfilling as all my concepts are solidified, and I back up my models with data, maps, documentation.  It all works.  In spite of the weekends and long hours, in the end it is worth it because I can answer the questions.  I can go to whatever folder, paper or electronic, I can pull up the maps, and show exactly how this huge puzzle of a landscape works, how it is put together.  The best part of my job.  Juggling all those puzzle pieces into place. 

It's now over.  Whew.  and whew again.  I don't know why I get so wound up over it all.  Some sort of silly idea that everything will be perfect?  How dumb is that!  It's the natural world, for pete's sake, and I am trying to make some kind of sense and order out of it.  dumb. 

So now I will breathe, I will get over all the stupid stress that I lay on myself at these reviews, and I will especially savor the thought that it is my last one.  No more reviews.  Ever.  Maybe an exit review a couple of weeks before I retire, but that is a different thing entirely.  I do not have to do the stressful, brain busting, lay-it-all-on-the-table-and-justify-it kind of review ever again. 

weird thought.

This afternoon I will pack.  Tomorrow I will leave before dawn and drive 8 hours through the valley back home to the Oregon forests and beaches.  I will spend some days at the coast, feeling chilly, at the lake, in Klamath at the small town celebration of the 4th with my daughter.  A week away.  A week without worry about anything at all.

But right now, just for this moment, I am savoring the deep breath, the big sigh, quietly looking out the office window to the asphalt parking lot, watching the blue oaks laugh at the heat, watching the grass wither as I speak.  Just savoring.  I don't have to do one single blessed thing in this moment.

Friend thoughts

I have an online group of "friends", sometimes we write with a lot of energy, other times there isn't a post for weeks. One of those friends just posted that she finished her dissertation, and just received a contract for a book about friendships between women. Her discussion gave me the opportunity to put down in words what has been rolling around in my mind a lot lately.

My kids have become my best friends, even my son now in his 40's. I don't understand him much, he is a redneck boy from Missouri, but we talk on the phone at least every week and sometimes more. My daughters are the friends who don't leave. Maybe we get angry, or frustrated, or busy, but we don't leave. I find that now with them in their 40's my role as protector is lessened, but the role of listener never ceases.

In relationships, I have found "The One" several times. It seems there is definitely more than one "One" for some of us, depending on where we are in our life, our personal growth, our needs and desires at a particular stage of life. and the question, "are you settling?" most often seems to come from those who are really dissatisfied in their own lives and relationships, and yes, I too get frustrated at that question. I love "settling". I love the settled feeling that comes with friendship and companionship and love (small case). I love not having to fight or cry or fear or be depressed any more. Well, I get depressed with too much heat or too much darkness, but not with my everyday life. Depression to me is the key, if I am depressed then I know that I am either stuck, or angry, or am not listening to my inner self. I have been hugely depressed in my lifetime when I was with someone that I thought was "The One".

Friendships, I guess, must be like that. They flow through life like waves in the ocean, coming and going, and some, like those big solid heavy stones on the beach, just stay there no matter what. I can count them on my one hand. My grandmother used to say that, and I pooh poohed her, in my days of women's group, and online groups, and really close girlfriends. But with time and distance, those friends came and went for me as well.

A decade ago I had a completely different view of friendship. I had friends then I thought would be part of my life forever. One is dead, one is probably a bit crazier than really knew, but I still count her on that lifetime list, one and only one is still my lifetime friend, and another one refuses to remain my friend, even after many many promises of lifetime friendship. The women's group friends are all faded, due to distance and time, I guess, but I never thought that would happen. Online friends I have never met, another whole story, as close as the computer screen, and as ephemeral as electrons floating in the universe.

Funny this question should come to me right now because it has been something that I have been thinking on a lot lately. Especially as I pack and go through all my old stuff and photos, clearing, deciding what to keep, what to let go of. Parts of me are going in boxes, and parts of me are going to goodwill, and parts of me are going into the trash pile. It's a big sifting process that has to do where I am in my life right now.

I guess my thoughts and feelings about friendship are just one of the things I am sorting and sifting.

Saturday thoughts while packing...again...

Once again, I am packing. Once again I am required to look consciously at the things that make me, “me”. My art supplies. I was an artist at one time. In the 60’s I painted with oils, I bought oil paints, I painted with watercolors, I bought watercolor paints. I tried it again sometime during the 80’s while I was married to Lance, then again in the late 90’s alone at Hauser, I bought pastels. The oils are gone, worn out. My mother’s oil paints I think I once had, thrown out long ago in some cleaning, clearing frenzy, much like the one I am going through now. The water colors have gone the same route. Gone. The pastels are still here, waiting, waiting for that part of me that wants to paint, to draw, to be an artist. The part of me that loves color. Books, Drawing the Light From Within, Drawing with Pastels, Madalas of Light, all books now packed into boxes, waiting in a storage room somewhere, waiting for the me that is buried so deep down under the surface I can hardly find her. Mo has a water color painting that I did once in a frame, something that Deanna found somewhere. All parts and pieces of me, that once were important, and now I wonder where they went, wonder who I am, really. Where is the motivation to do that kind of thing, all thoughts going through my mind as I pack up the pastels and pencils into a box called “sue’s art supplies”.



Sometime today I will dip into the drawers in the guest room, will dip into the belly dancing costumes, the jewelry, the yards of amazing fabric. All for another me, the one that wanted to be a dancer, but was never agile enough, or flexible enough, or strong enough. So that me did African dance and Tribal belly dance, that me played the djembe. Parts of me again buried, with the djembe in the corner, the belly dance skirts packed up into another box somewhere in storage, and the jewelry soon to be packed up into another box for my daughter, for melody, the one that still wants to dance and costume and still has the energy for art.

Where am I in all this? It’s a question I keep asking as I do this process of clearing and cleaning and packing. It’s a repeated refrain, boring in its repetition, boring so I try not to talk about it out loud. So far, the only true part of me that is alive is this same part that wants to write about it, that wants to write to find it, to write to find “me”. So I go pack up some more, look some more at the things I have kept, and remember the things that I haven’t, and in the process, work it down to the essence, the essence of “me”. It still eludes me, but I believe it is coming. Aging, moving, retiring, shifting, all of it is a process designed to pare it all down to essence. “I am because I am” kind of essence. “I am because I think” and “I am because I write”. “I am because I talk on the phone?” to my kids, to the few friends that are still around, to the very few people in my life who have boiled down to the last essence of me, who are still here to care.

Paring it down means throwing out the 10year old pasta

So, I am paring it all down.  Trying to keep only what really really matters in my life.  But they were sooo cute in that jar.  A wake up call when I realized I found these adorable little artichoke and garlic shaped pastas in 1995.  Ok.  That is more than 10 years.  But I ran my fingers through them one more time in the waste basket, thinking...gee...maybe I can glue them to something and make a cute kitchen picture.  Ok.  out they go.  How do I throw a lot of  "stuff" away without throwing away parts of me, that is the test.

Appreciating a California Spring

Yes, it is spring here in California, and at the moment things are lush and green with sunny cool skies and puffy clouds. And wildflowers. Gorgeous

Winter in Sonora

This photo was taken early one morning from my office parking lot.

News Director!

It's an ordinary day in Jamestown, and I am working away in the office. The sun is shining, things seem normal.

But I just got a phone call from my baby girl, and she just got hired as "News Director" for a cluster of 5 radio stations in Klamath Falls, as well as the 4 hour morning show co-host for one of the stations, KLAD, in Klamath. Geez. Maybe the whole house thing had a purpose. My girl got a career! whew!

In the current climate of more than 10 percent unemployment in Klamath, and 8 percent or so in Oregon overall, it's pretty cool that within a very short time Kevin became the "Program Director" for the cluster and Melody got hired as well. Wow. yes! So they will be doing the morning show together on KLAD. www.kladfm.com


A good day I would say. Guess I will have to listen to the country station when I get home to Klamath. LOL

Christmas

I am home from my travels, and finally finished emptying my suitcases enough to repack them this evening.  It's Christmas.  And I am going home.  Home to big snows and family and cooking.  Home to Oregon.  I already took almost all of my Christmas decorations up to Mo's the last time I was there, when  I visited Melody back on Halloween.  I don't have to bring them back to Jamestown.  The moving has begun.  This time next year I will be living in Klamath.  A good thought.  I have lived alone for a very long time, but much of that time in the last three years here in Jamestown, I have traveled with Mo, or she has been here visiting.  I haven't really felt that awful alone feeling that I felt so long ago when I first moved to Klamath.  I can barely even remember what that felt like, the deep sadness inside, feeling that I was going to be alone for the rest of my life.  So funny to me how vague that feeling can be when it isn't right there in your face.

This week, after settling in for a weekend at home and a week at work, I suddenly realized that I was alone, and that it felt great.  Quiet  time, even though I was working, time to knit a bit, watch some tv, write some Christmas cards.  Great.  And it feels great to know that it's temporary.  All the angst, the agony, the sadness, the depression, that adjustment period so many years ago when my life really started shifting, all that was just such a strange phase.  Looking back, I wonder about it, as I wonder about now and the difference. Life just feels easier, more straightforward, a bit more predictable.  Settled.  My friend Jeanne wrote the other day, "But Sue, it feels so settled already!!!! I don't know if I want that!!!"  Settled, sounds wonderful to me.  LOL  wonderful.  I am grateful.

I wrote a card to Eva, my supervisor from so many years ago when I was working for Kim.  I had no real future, I was a soil scientist cleaning houses, and Eva kept calling me, trying to convince me to quit my job with Kim and go to work for her at the Spokane Conservation District.  Looking back in life there are moments, turning points, places where angels appear and change the course of your life.  That was one of those moments, and Eva was my angel.  I am going to retire this year, something I never could have managed without taking that step, taking the huge pay cut and leaving the illusion of all that money that Kim represented, and going to work again digging holes in the ground, walking the hills and mountains, working with the landscapes again.  I look back on my career from this vantage point and it truly amazes me.  I see what the young soil scientists are up against with all the shifts and changes in soil survey as I knew it and again I am so incredibly amazed and grateful at the way my life went because of this job.  I remember sitting in the dirt in Rathdrum and wondering what in the world I could do to make a living in the earth that way.  Little did I know.  Amazing.

So now I am off to Klamath, through the snow, the storms.  I have a gazillion suitcases in my truck, with silly things like the sterling silver for dinner, a set of spode china for Melody that we can use for dinner.  Thirteen people at Mo's table.  A whole suitcase full of coats and scarves and gloves.  It is something like 7 degrees in Klamath right now.  I am out of practice.  Long underwear, jammies.  Something shiny for new years.  Two whole weeks in Klamath with my kids and my friend, my cats and Abby, snow and good food and love.

Yes,  it's going to be a great Christmas.

Getting seriously excited!

I am excited, to say the least. This weekend I am finalizing my packing, making sure bills are paid, details taken care of. I will work the first of the week, Mo will arrive Wednesday from Oregon, and we leave for San Francisco on Thursday evening so we can be ready for our 6am flight to Chicago, and then on to Istanbul by way of Frankfurt. We are traveling with Go-Ahead Tours, a first for us, since past international travels have been mostly with Grand Circle. It's a chance to compare. I am taking the laptop, and plan to write daily and upload photos as well. My last two international trips were journaled sporadically with pen and paper, so hopefully this time I will actually keep better track of everything. This trip has a fairly ambitious schedule, so it might be even more important to keep good track of things since it really can all run together after a few days.
Day 1 - Istanbul
Board an overnight flight to Turkey from San Francisco via Chicago and Frankfurt.
Day 2 - Istanbul
Land in Istanbul, the ancient capital of civilization known previously as Byzantium and Constantinople.
Day 3 - Istanbul
On a guided tour of Istanbul, visit 15th-century Topkapi Palace, home of Ottoman sultans; the ancient Byzantine church of Hagia Sophia, illuminated by 30 million gold mosaic tiles; and the stunning Blue Mosque. Pass by the Hippodrome, an elaborate stadium once the site of ancient chariot races.
Day 4 - Istanbul
Free time to explore Istanbul. Plan to visit the Museum of Ancient Civilizations. Possibly join an optional morning cruise among the Bosphorus Straits, the ancient waterway that connects Europe and Asia. View Ottoman palaces and medieval castles during this half-day cruise along the Bosphorus Straits, which separates Europe and Asia.
Day 5 - Canakkale
Stop for a guided tour of Bursa, the first capital of the Ottoman empire. Continue to Canakkale, a town coveted in centuries past for its strategic location.
Day 6 - Kusadasi
A local guide leads a tour of Troy, where Homer’s Iliad comes to life. Tour the ruins, where experts have identified the relics of nine civilizations dating back 5,000 years. Then follow the Aegean coast to Pergamon, visit the ancient Greek Acropolis. Continue on to seaside Kusadasi. Day 7 - Kusadasi
Visit Ephesus, one of the Mediterranean’s best-preserved classical cities. View the Library of Celsus, the Temple of Hadrian and the house where Mary is said to have spent her final days. This afternoon, opt for a journey to the village of Sirince for a firsthand look at Turkish rural life. The peaceful village of Sirince lies in the hills outside of Ephesus. On a walking tour led by tour director, stroll past some of the country’s best-preserved 19th-century architecture.
Day 8 - Pamukkale
Stop today at the ruins of Miletus. Next, visit Didyma’s Temple of Apollo.
Day 9 - Pamukkale
Take a guided tour of Pamukkale’s travertines, a cascade of snowy white calcium terraces formed from hot springs. The tour includes the ruins of Hierapolis, the Roman spa city built around Pamukkale’s calcium rich waters. In the afternoon, opt for an excursion to Aphrodisias, the best-preserved Hellenistic site in all of Turkey, dating back to at least the 1st century B.C. The site includes a temple dedicated to Aphrodite. In Aphrodisias, explore the city that honored Aphrodite, goddess of love. Ancient sculptures made of glowing marble date back to the late 1st century B.C. in this beautiful getaway.
Day 10 - Antalya
Cross the Kale River Delta to Demre. Visit the 4th-century Church of St. Nicholas. Continue to the ruins of Phaselis, an ancient Lycian city. Later reach Antalya, ancient retreat of Antony and Cleopatra.
Day 11 - Antalya
View the Old Town and visit the archaeological museum and Hadrian’s Gate. Later, a trip to Aspendos and Perge. Perge was settled for new Greek colonists and prospered under Alexander the Great. The ancient remains of the city include the Great Theatre, Hellenistic Gates Roman bath houses and a magnificent stadium.
Day 12 - Cappadocia
Stop in Konya. Visit the Mevlana Museum. Continue to Cappadocia. This evening, an optional excursion to see a Whirling Dervishes performance. The Muslim sect known as the Whirling Dervishes was founded in the 13th century by Mevlana Celeldin Rumi. Learn about this fascinating sect and its modern-day practitioners during this special cultural performance of dance, music and tradition.
Day 13 - Cappadocia
Tour the rock churches of Göreme and visit the towns of Pasabag and Avanos. This evening, attend a traditional Turkish Folklore Evening. Taste Turkish wine, snacks and beer at this authentic Cappadocian restaurant, carved out of sheer rock.
Day 14 - Istanbul
Enjoy a free day in Cappadocia or opt to visit the Eskigimus Monastery. After an included dinner this evening, board your return flight to Istanbul, where you’ll spend your last night in Turkey. Day 15 - Istanbul
Depart for home .

Conversation with the Daily Coyote

Shreve in Wyoming was accusing of pimping out her coyote "charlie" by selling calenders and such. I ordered a calendar and in the process reminded Shreve that the Nez Perce coyote stories would have had coyote being the pimp! She wrote me back with this:

Hi Sue,
Laughing about the coyote pimp observation - so true!!!And yes, totally fine and easy if you'd like to send a check - just make it obvious what you'd like and where you'd like it sent, as my brain is NOT to be trusted these days! Based on your history and experience with coyotes, what do you think it means that they are becoming such a stronger and more obvious presence among humans these days - even in cities and suburbs. What are they bringing us? What are they saying? I understand the logical, physical reasons causing it (people can't stop building 5000 square foot homes and stripmalls!) but the possible metaphysical meaning entertwined with that is something I am pondering a lot recently and would love to hear your perspective or ideas.......

This was so much fun, because it's been a long time since I had a conversation with someone who thought of coyotes as anything other than ... well.... coyotes...

My answer to Shreve was fun, because it made me ponder and made me remember.

First thought, that we humans will need to keep our sense of humor in order to survive in the midst of the strip malls and mcmansions. We will have to learn to survive and to adapt, to change our ways if need be in order to continue to survive, even thrive in the changing environment. Coyote most of all teaches me about surviving and thriving and adapting, and about having fun in the process, so I would imagine those themes might be relevant to humans on a larger scale. I have read that coyotes are even learning to hunt in packs like wolves in some places, behavior that I'm sure you know isn't natural to them. Coyote also reminds me that there is magic in the world, something that I can forget in the midst of the everydayness of living, working, all that ordinary stuff. Maybe Coyote is coming into our midst more to try to remind us about that magic. Shreve, I can't tell you how it feels to have someone actually ask a question like you asked. I have been away from magic too long. I'm a soil scientist, on the verge of retirement after 32 years mapping soils in the mountains and canyons of Idaho, Oregon, Washington, and now California. Coyote has visited me often, physically, and metaphysically, if I pay attention. You remind me to pay attention.

Halloween in Klamath

I traveled to Klamath on October 31. The real reason for the trip was the need to get all my "stuff" out of Melody's space, but the great side benefit of it all was a magical Halloween night sending Hillary and Savannah off to a costume party and then trick-or-treating on Pacific Terrace with my grandson. Melody and I had a magnificent time, kicking deep piles of leaves, smelling wood smoke on the crisp night air, and listening to all the kids and parents laughing as they made their way through the night.

It's been a long time since the reality of Halloween tradition has lived up to my memories and fantasies of what Halloween is all about. It smelled like Halloween is supposed to smell. I ate a tootsie roll and it tasted like Halloween is supposed to taste. No more artificial mall tricks or gather at the school or church treats. It was the real thing.

I am not sure what happened in the intervening years, I just know that for a time, there weren't any kids at my door. For a time, there was no place to go and the newpapers were touting all the other things to do on Halloween night. For a time. But last Friday night, my kind of Halloween came back in full force. I'm just tickled that it did so while I still had a grandson still young enough to participate and I got to share it with him.

More photos of all the fun we had are here:
http://picasaweb.google.com/kyotesue/HomeToKlamathForHalloween#

Beaded Scarf Class

I took a knitting class yesterday, 6 hours of knitting in one day, with a lunch break. There we 8 of us in the class, varying levels of experience, but no beginners at least. After 6 intense hours of instruction, this is how far I got on the Undulating Waves scarf. I wasn't alone. Most of us were on something like row 10 or 12, after learning a lot about how to knit backwards as we unraveled our mistakes. I hope I can actually get the hang of this thing. Pat, the instructor, insists that we will eventually get it, as we all knit along. Lucky for me, the fee for the class includes as many "knit along evenings" that I need to finish it without paying the 7. fee for those evenings. Something tells me that I may be showing up on Wednesday nights after work while I try to actually finish this thing. Something else tells me that this may not be an airplane project. Lots of counting and measuring, and sliding of beads, and concentration. I am happy so far with my scarf. Unlike my fingering weight socks that went the way of the stash bin. We will see how it goes.

Silly Shoe Story

Shoes. Somehow they are an incredible delight to me as the years go by. The body goes, clothes become less and less important, but somehow shoes become more fun. So I am often taken by shoes, and probably am collecting more than my share in the last couple of years. Most of the time they are really good shoes, a great pair of KEEN sandals that have traveled Malta, Thailand, and many places in the US, a new pair of KEENS that have reflectors that can stop traffic, and are lighter than my sandals, some truly adorable brown walking shoe things that I got at Sonora's best shoe store, my "mary jane" merrils that can go with anything. All fun, most of them practical, useable, and built to last the rest of my lifetime, maybe 20 years or so at least! Ha.

But traveling through the Salt Lake airport last month I met a pair of shoes in the women's bathroom that truly caught my heart. I never met the woman wearing them, she was in the stall next to me, with slinky black pants and painted toenails, and these amazing shoes peeking out beneath her pants cuffs. Wow. Somehow the woman became endowed with brilliance, intelligence, money, and incredible taste. I could never wear a pair of shoes like those, but still, it fascinated me as I observed my reactions to those shoes.

Home that evening, and Moana arrived for our planned weekend outings. First on the list was the Annual Calaveras Grape Stomp in Murphys. I love Murphys, it somehow is more like what I imagined Sonora to be before I moved here. We drank wine as we carried our commemorative glasses around town, visited the booths of art and food, enjoyed the Abby compliments from a dog loving town , and sat down in front of a quaint little shoe boutique on Main Street. Of course, I had to go in and window shop, and lo and behold, there they were, those same silly shoes that I saw the day before in the stall in Salt Lake City airport. Silly. Incredibly expensive, and even more silly, on sale for 75 percent off. Hmm, maybe that means they are no longer in style? Who cares. I carried them outside to show Moana, since I had actually told her the shoe story, and she laughed when I said, "I don't need these silly shoes at all." "Well, why not?" she asked in return. Why not indeed?! So I bought the shoes. Silly sillly shoes. I will wear them with my black slinky pants to the dress up dinners on our tour and on a cruise, wherever.

I certainly know that shoes are not a great spiritual lesson, but still, these shoes remind me that silly magic also happens, and to acknowledge that magic is a gift. Silly shoes. Magic shoes. Dorothy shoes. I hope I am never too old to see magic all around me, even in a silly pair of shoes.

GPR Week

This week was about technology. GPR EMI and such. Ground Penetrating Radar and Electromagnetic Induction. Great fun . Some people think it's way too much work for the results, but after a week of working with it, I can see the places where it won't work and other places where it will be a time saver in the long run. As with the Digital Soil Mapping technology, it requires a reasonably good model of the landscape already in place to work well. Ground truthing (aka digging holes) is still a requirement, but when it comes to transects to verify and document our landscape models, these tools can help out with maybe a couple of pits dug instead of 10. Yeah. I can go for that, especially in this landscape where the soils are like serious cement from about April through February, assuming we get a rain or two over the winter.

It was a good week, a break from regular mapping, and a chance to do something a bit different. Photos of the rest of it are on the Picasa site. The horses were especially entertaining as they tried to help. One especially pretty black boy was sure that my NRCS lunch bag was made especially for him, looked just like a grain feed bag. I cut up my apple and gave it to him, and I am sure in this dry crackly landscape it was pretty nice. Another day another dollar.

Moving Day

This time, not for me, but still so wonderful, and still so very important. Melody and Kevin and my grandkids are moving into my little house on Painter Street today. Moving to Klamath. I just never imagined this to be a possibility. I though maybe Deb might move there someday, that maybe Deanna and Keith would end up somewhere in Eastern Oregon on their 4-H ranch, but somehow never imagined that Melody would ever be ready to give up her life in Albany, the theater, her friends there, the more progressive urban life found in Albany with proximity to Portland and shopping and such. Yet the day has arrived.

I am excited for the kids, excited for my house, excited for me! I am a bit frustrated that I am still here in Jamestown, but I do know that this year will go quickly, and that this time next year I will be able to sit with my daughter in the dining room for morning coffee without having to drive 700 or 400 miles to do it. This time next year I will be in Klamath too. Close. Family. If Hillary has a play, or Elric has a game, I can drive into town and go. We can have them out for a bbq sometimes, or meet at Third Thursday downtown now and then. Simple stuff. Not all the time, not so much that it is an interference, but more than 2 or 3 times a year at least! Geez!

Life does take some surprising twists and turns, and as usual, most of the twists that revolve around the Klamath Basin for me have been good ones. I love that place, I love the feeling of home that is there, the safety net feeling that comes over me as I drop into the basin from the south, or the every single time thrill that comes when I drive over Doak Mountain and see the lake stretched out before me on the way to home in Rocky Point. Cold winters. yes. Yukky ice in February. yes. But it's home, and my kids are now there.

Unplugging revisited

I read a quote on Andrew Sullivan’s blog written by Michael Brendan Dougherty. It rang true for me in a way that I have noticed only recently. Lately when traveling I have left the computer behind, thinking I don’t need it for just a few days, effectively unplugging from the whole thing. Often my cell phone doesn’t work in these places either, so I have to wait for access or more bars to talk with my kids, with my friends. This in effect is distancing me from some people, it seems, since I haven’t been writing as many emails, not calling as often, somehow unplugging from all the electronic substitutes for everyday relationships. I couldn’t manage my life right now without electronics, however, I am too far from everyone important to me. Still, I notice the difference. What Mr Dougherty said was this: DING!!!’

“Immediately, I realized how much anxiety the flow and ease of communication brings. The annoyance people have when they cannot reach you. The itch to pick up the silent cell phone and check to see if anyone has called or texted. The certain knowledge that e-mail is quite figuratively piling up in your endlessly expansive gmail account. After you put away the devices that keep you connected to the flow, put them out of your sight, the anxiety begins to recede, slowly. The obligation to respond to e-mails almost instantly, or at least within a few hours, disappears, and you can imagine yourself having normal conversation, relaxed, the way your grandparents did. The effect of unplugging is the same as living in a foreign country for a period of time, you can read about the events taking place after the fact, but you don’t experience them in real time, and the panic recedes.”