Fin del año

It's hard not to wax nostalgic about the year as it slowly winds down (with an extra second).  Though some things (the election) may not have gone the way I would have hoped, many things were beyond expectation.  Nearly every day had a celebration of some small kind, and over the summer, though the very long walk, I gained an even deeper appreciation for what are normally noted as the "small" things.

I was reminded as always that love is a gem, we are more alike than different, we are luckier than we remember most days, sunscreen is underrated, laughter makes nearly everything better, and time passes too quickly.

Wishing you a wonderful wrap-up of today and this year and best wishes for a happy, love-filled 2017.  Buen camino.

Summer (or Winter) Reads

With long flights in November, I had quite a bit of time on my hands to read a few lingering books in my Kindle library.  

The Things We Wish Were True by Marybeth Mayhew Whalen was an August "First Read" title.  I've had mixed feelings about many of these free offerings so I entered with low expectations.  The NC setting as well as the variety in story-telling lulled me into the narrative pretty quickly.  Though I suspected I knew the direction the novel would take, I was often wrong and pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this book.  (I also caused a small commotion on the plane which someone touched my arm during one of the chapters but that's a story for another time.)

ShadowShaper by Daniel José Older is a definite to add to your list from the YA category.  This book was an animated discussion for bookclub with it's portrayal of women, self-image, and family dynamics, to name just a few themes.  The author also did a really nice job capturing the voice of a young lady in his writing.  Be forewarned:  there are a few loose ends you'd like to see tidied up and sequels have been announced.

600 Hours of Edward by Craig Lancaster.  I'm not sure how this book ended up in my Amazon wishlist but thank you to whoever inspired this addition.  (Prime Members, it's free read now as well!)  There were a number of things I liked about quirky Edward, one of which was the evolution of his character from "statistician always" to "statistician mostly" with room for life.  Many of Edward's days were routine but each time I stopped reading, I couldn't wait to dive in again to see if Dragnet was still at 10.  Though to the extreme, I kept thinking about how we treat time and habits, and I wondered if we're all a bit more like Edward than we care to admit.

Un momento

"I heard there was an American living in the building" she said in the elevator after asking if I "was from around here."  My castellano will give me away every time.

Luckily there were only six more floors of conversation before I could pop off, avoiding the inevitable question and my answer to attempt to explain current politics. "Why?" is the most frequent followed very closely by "How?"

I have long been a fan of travel for how it opens your mind to see simple occurrences in a different light and for how it opens your heart to have a deeper empathy.

If you have ever been the only [fill in the blank] in the room, on a corner, at a restaurant, on the street, you know the gift of a smile, the power of being kind, the gratitude for help given without gain.

Here's hoping that we all remember to be kind and generous in the coming new year.

Corta Camina

My favorite buildings here are those that pop with color from the normal gray (as well as a certain panaderia for my favorite factura).  This is a glimpse from last Sunday morning's walk.

Quilmes, AR
December 2016

Here's hoping your Friday has a bit of flair and a sweet ending!

After You Walk 500 Miles

After walking something nearly 900 kilometers across Spain this summer, I took a break from running.  One of the side effects of that journey was that I fell in love with walking.  (If you're going to walk for 40 days with blistered feet, you'd either better love it or learn to love it.)  

My training thoughts from July - November: "why run if you can walk?"

So now, I'm trying to flirt with running again and, with seasons reversed, this restart is in the warmth of the sun.  This romance is like any other:  days where I'm excited and it seems fresh, days where it is laborious and tiring and I wonder if it's going anywhere, and the days where I do it because I made a commitment to it.  (The good days have a direct correlation to temperatures less than 80 degrees.)

The terrain also meets this analogy of amor.  The sidewalk is not smooth, different obstacles pop up every day, and in order to be successful, you have to run with traffic.  It's different.

I've been honked at by buses (because there's not enough room for both of us)*, barked at by dogs, avoided jackhammers, dodged motorbikes, and melted in the hot, mid-day sun.

I've also spoken to men on carts pulled by horses, stopped to watch a man make empanadas, been overwhelmed with the sweet smell of jacarandas, and experienced the unexpected exhilaration from knowing which way to look when crossing a street.  (There are no stop signs in most intersections here - only a series of criss-crossing one-way streets for four streets, then one two-way street usually with a light, then back to the four one-way streets.)**  

So like love, I have to choose it and in the end, I'm the better for it.

*  Buses always win.
**Beware of bikers though as they occasionally often ignore these traffic rules.

Casa a Hogar

As the sun started its initial descent, the kitchen was filled with its normal yellow hue from the glass panes, and I was (and am) filled with gratitude for the wins over the last few weeks, built upon the first visit, giving me the hint that this feels more like home.

• Finding the sweet spot on the hot water knob to provide a shower that's warmer than my body temperature
• Learning the correct "open/close" direction on the black out blinds so that I don't get them stuck between floors (Unfortunately, all windows were affected last visit.)
• Successful lighting of the oven and stovetop range while keeping all my hair intact
• Navigating the host of opening lines to find the suitable response upon greeting with a kiss:
• Hola, qué tal?
• Comó andas?
• Todo bien?
• Qué haces?
• Como estas?
• Unassisted navigation to the gym, yoga, church, bakery and plaza
• Adoption of the 9 or 10pm dinner and 5pm merienda schedule
• Making acquaintances who know you are not local and are extra kind, speaking with a little slower cadence than their norm

I'm quite sure I underestimated the effort to live in an area that is not common for tourists, but I'm learning.  

Corriendo

Running here is not like running in Huntsville.
There are no greenways.
There are no friendly faces and bikers on three wheels.

Running here is not like running in Chicago.
There is no lake with a breeze.
There are no roller skaters and blossoms falling.

Running here is not like London.
There is no bridge.
There are no long staircases and post-run smoothies.

Running here is an adventure.
There are no rules.
There are no stop signs and rights of way.

Men run alongside traffic of buses, cars and the occasional horse.
Intersections increase heart rate with the unknown variable of who will cross first.

Accomplishment is found when you reach the end of the dead-end
Knowing with certainty you cannot go further.

Hills are smaller; sidewalks are not an option.
It is only the street with nary a painted line to guide.

Branching Out

It has taken me a couple of months to work through one of Amazon's free Kindle reads for April, The Eagle Tree by Ned Hayes.  I'm a little torn on how to frame the review.  In general, I enjoyed the story but to work through the long descriptions of trees by our fourteen year-old main character was tiresome.  I wanted to "leaf" at times and so I did, with the book sitting until I had another long flight, lingering.

When I was younger, I worked my way through a suggested list of 100 classic reads.  I don't know if it was Faulkner or Conrad or Sinclair that broke me with long sentences or descriptive phrases but I don't have the patience.  I want to skim ahead to make progress rather than work through the imagery.

Despite my dislike of this writing approach, however, I think my struggle was important to understand the other character's perspectives in The Eagle Tree.  March Wong loves trees. He wants to talk, think, share, and climb them endlessly.  The evolution of his interactions with others in the story is a strong part of why this book pulls the heart strings in the end.

I did also learn lot about trees.

See Sharp

Teatro Colón
November 2016

There are a number of quotes that reference "the space between" as the important part of music.

As a person "in between" life notes, I tend to agree.

Glasses Half Full

When I awoke this morning
Lo, a speck was found in eye.
And to my normal contact lenses,
I had to say goodbye.

While glasses periodically do wear
Never to the outside disclose
Meaning a new day of adventure
Found striking itself a pose.

First stop to the gym
For exercises focused on back
But already the walk down
Had my balance out of whack.

The periphery ebbs and flows
Like the tide across a ship
And ne'er a horizon to focus
When the sidewalk took a dip.

Cooking lunch was not a problem
With a two ingredient dish
And dicing was successful -
Only one slight near miss.

The sunlight feels extra bright
Though a half-inch glass
Spring is nearer than you think
When you cannot see the grass.

Sunday Springs

The plaza on Sunday is much different from the other days of the week.  Gone are the young men offering to help park, washing your car while you're away (with the expectation of a tip if you are inclined to keep the integrity of your auto).  Two-wheeled bikes are replaced with tricycles and strollers.  Girls on roller skates replace boys on skateboards.  Joggers disappear with the appearance of dog-owners holding long leashes.  The police presence even seems to dissipate.

Blankets are scattered on available ground that is not already taken by small football matches.  Swings are full, see-saws occupied, and trees are taped with water-colors by Alma or Sabrina.  Mate is present during the week but on Sundays every small collective has the calabash gourd and accompanying thermos.  Meriendas of medialunas appear here and there with the facturas disappearing with each walked round.  Nearby cafes are full.

The pace of walking the block slows to "tranquila" and the power-walk workout gives way to people-watching and leash-dodging.  Questioning eyes are drawn to the solo walker who's obviously not local.  Sunglasses help though only teens seem to use them.  A bulldog is jerked back from close contact by an owner wearing a "United Kingdom" shirt.  I wondered if he sensed he was near another native English speaker.

As the sun sets, the dusk hour doesn't have the Lucinda Williams Sunday sadness.  Instead it seems hopeful and the Latin beats go on.

Pollo de viento

Last night I thought I was sleeping in a tornado but it's just the spring windy season.
There are good rest nights and bad rest nights.

Today I thought I was ordering pizza but instead ordered a small pork breast (pechito).
There are good language usage days and bad language days.

Step by step with a good sense of humor, an open diet, and a decent resting pulse rate.

Week one.
Take two.
Check.

YogaTo Learn

Scene I
[A woman and her boyfriend rings the bell of an upstairs yoga studio and boyfriend explains to confused receptionist that he understands the classes are only for woman but could we come up for questions.]

[Couple enters yoga studio and conversation ensues in Spanish.]

Me:  Hi! How are you?  I'm interested in taking a Yoga class
She:  Good!  Do you have a preference for time?  Type?
Me:  Iyengar.  I took classes for many years but lately not too much.
She:  Okay.  [Gives overview of various classes.]
Me:   [Nods]  I am a church.  Let me apologize for my Spanish.
She:  Are you from England?
Me:  Yes.
She:  I can speak in English.
Me:  Great!

Scene II
[Insert conversation about yoga, more details on classes, attire, my asking if I needed a yoga mat, my boyfriend's translation of various items including a yoga mat, and an ensuing reservation for a class.]

Scene III
[Woman and boyfriend exit studio to buzzing of exit bell.]
Him:  Are you excited?
Me:  Yes, I think it will be fun to try a class.
Him:  Why did you say you were from England?
Me:  I was under pressure.  I already said I was a church.
Him:  [Laughs.]  That was pretty funny but you did great!
[Couple continues walking down street.]
Me:  Why did she keep saying classes "for my age"?
Him:  Because she thought you said you wanted "Younger classes"
Me:  Why?
Him:  It's "a-sh-engar" here not Iyengar

[End Act I]

Pick-up on Aisle Tres

A supermarket in the suburbs of Buenos Aires on an early Saturday evening is not for the faint of heart (or the impatient).  This is one of the peak shopping times and buggies are moving through the aisles like bumper cars at Dollywood with the occasional "Permiso" to signal a turn.  Carts with the most items seem to have the right of way and wayward gringas in awe of all the varied products and vocabulary are the least of these in the order of aisles.  The queue to pay could easily add thirty additional minutes to your trip but affords additional opportunities to dodge carts.

It's wonderfully chaotic.  I continue to be mesmerized (and nearly run over) each trip.

I Love You Like Biscuits and Gravy

My kitchen smells like bacon.
It should have been fried but I baked it and set off the smoke detector.
I nearly gave you a heart attack.
Biscuits made with love and a prayer.  Gravy made with a miracle.

My living room smells like candles.
These should have been already been burned but I've been moving them around for ten years.
I didn't want to let you go (at least subconsciously).
I should send a note to Pottery Barn with a kind product comment about longevity.

My garage smells like charcoal.
Ashes lingering on the ground from coals taken all the way back to dust.
I was fine with letting you go.
Dinners made with a head lamp, mild burns and mosquito spray.

My office smells like film.
Negatives discarded with old prints.
It took deep breaths to let you go.
Memories, reminders, triggers, anchors cut loose with a garbage bag.

My bedroom smells like you.
It's what makes the house seem empty.
I won't let you go.
Love notes savored in moments between plane rides.

Love is Patient

I've learned that love is all kinds of things
Seldom is it linked to diamond rings.
A stranger peeling an orange and sharing a slice
In the heat of an afternoon.  Wow that was nice.

The sad look between patron and client passed
When neither understood and language didn't last.
The translator which assisted the next day
And a hand over heart and a smile each way.

Three stores to find the "American" item
And a great big hug when nowhere can buy them
A Facetime call when you needed a friend
Love across the miles electronically send.

A year of travels and certainly love
How lucky I am with this narrative wove.

One Ton Tomato

It's possible I am developing unhealthy habits for empanadas and tortitas negras con dulce de leche.

In Argentina, empanadas can be baked or fried and I've now had them from Tucuman, Salta, and local Buenos Aires.  It's impossible to pick a favorite:  carne; queso; pollo; jamon y queso; queso y cebolla; queso, aseituna, y huevo.  Moving from savory to sweet, the pastries (facturas) are really out of this world.  I've had to impose a once per week self-limitation on a certain nearby bakery so that my eating doesn't outweigh (no pun intended) the calories I burn running.

I'm finally cooking at home now that I have had unaided (but supervised) lighting of both the oven and the stove-top.  The oven is either "on" or "off" and I'm not quite certain what the cooking temperature may be.  It's between a "3" and a "4" and twenty to thirty minutes of baking seems to give most items from the freezer a good warm and a crispy crust.  I keep the window open periodically for ventilation (just in case).

So I'm settling in, despacio, one bite at a time.

Come on Baby Drive South

A friend and I once had an inside joke that if all else fails, we'd take a suitcase a money and head for Patagonia.  Little did I expect that less than a decade later, I'd be a mere three hours' flight from its southernmost city, navigating an Argentinean submersion experience.  (Note:  I don't have the suitcase full of money.)

The short story of this adventure is that one Camino led to another.

The long story involves one super heavy backpack, the Navy Seals, 901 kilometers, blisters, innumerable cafe con leches, Spanglish, and countless hours of walking.

I could spend five minutes or five hours talking about the Camino.  The story depends on the audience and area of interest to the listener.  Most people do not have long attention spans these days and it is nearly impossible to sum up something so hard and so wonderful in just a few lines.  So if I need to give the short story, I say something just like that.

The long story is that nearly forty days after arriving to Muxia (my finish), I still have healing blisters on my feet.

Some have thought it was crazy, some thought it was really neat, and some haven't been able to wrap their heads around why and how someone would walk across an entire country.  I don't have the heart to tell the last group that I'd like to do it again (albeit a different route) in 2018.  I don't have all the words to describe just how this walk has changed me for the better.

So I'm here, listening to honking car horns and traffic, grateful beyond belief that I could actually manage to order a takeaway lunch at the place across the street.  Like the Camino, the small daily wins are the big wins.

Food, shelter, laundry, remotely working, and occasionally pinching myself to ensure that I'm not just dreaming this new chapter.

Other things (taking spin and "consciente" classes in Spanish, navigating the metric system, crossing the street without getting hit, avoiding pickpockets, using a gas oven that I have to light myself, and trying to improve my mediocre Spanish so that I can participate instead of watching from the sidelines) sometime weigh heavy but I know that these will eventually turn to calluses instead of sore pain spots.   All I have to do is just keep walking.

Walk This Way

This last week my reading has been relegated to only one book:  A Village to Village Guide to Hiking the Camino de Santiago.  It has a 4.6 rating out of 5 stars, for which I am grateful as I'm relying on it to guide me nearly 600 miles.  There's a competing title by Brierly, but having learned too late of its existence, I am already committed to Dintaman and Landis.  The route is planned.

My early recommendations:

• Commit to the Camino (aka buy your plane ticket) before reading the guidebook.  Some parts are a bit overwhelming
• Watch The Way to heighten inspiration
• Break the news to your family gently after saying a few prayers
• Make REI your good friend
• Accept that you will not like your backpack some days
• Pack earplugs
• Have a few friends that are absolutely in your corner

Last July I mentioned to one of the aforementioned friends that walking the el camino was my sabbatical "Plan B".  Said friend thought it was a viable "Plan A" and gave me the guidebook last October. It sat on my kitchen table, coffee table, and bookshelf.  It was carried with me to Wisconsin, Mexico, and South America and was sported around town in my messenger bag only to have the first few pages read until last week's flight to the west coast.   It was likely best that way.  It's too late to back out; I can only just hope that the preparations are enough and that the rest can be charged to Visa or American Express.

I can't say first where, how or why the idea was planted.  It sat as a growing seed this last year and one morning I woke up and knew with all certainty that I was buying a plane ticket.  I'm nervous, excited, scared, hopeful and scared (worth mentioning a second time).  Writing here may be a bit more intermittent until the journey is completed.

I can't wait to hear about the books you'll have been reading.

la nube

Ninety days goes by in a blink.

I forget those tiny moments which don't make big impressions but that creep back in later as something I do want to remember.  Peripheral details are then fuzzy like clouds.

Right now I'm taken with Kelvin Helmholtz clouds (K-H) which swirl and hook in an ocean-esque line.  (Some were visible over my home city last week.)

They remind me of my ninety days.  Moving forward in space with a small piece reaching back, not yet capable to touch that last wave.

Hold the Candles

This weekend I attended two birthday celebrations.  

The first was a daunting group of four to nine year olds who were focused on computer screens around the perimeter of the room when I arrived.  Now there were boxes of actual legos in the middle of the room but no child was playing with these; they were content instead to build a virtual item with their partner.

Birthday parties have changed since I was a child.

The invitation said no gifts but donations were taken so that another family around the world would have a present.  A goat was suggested but another child preferred a dragon.  (I'm not sure that is the most sustainable gift but I'd bet this kid was a Minecraft fan.)  In the end, there was a selection of chicks, goats, a water filter and a few other items.

There was cake and awkward singing.

It was nice to see some elements of my childhood have continuity.

The second party was filled with Iron(wo)man triathletes, ultra-runners and adventure racers.  There were only two of us that had not run a marathon (not including the kids).  The food was healthy, there were discussions about races, and a few of us ate brownies and had a bit of reading water.

There was no cake or awkward singing.

There was peer pressure to run a marathon and decisions on the next time we'd run together.

Birthday parties have changed since I was in my twenties.

The Road Less Traveled

Last night I read Brave Enough by Cheryl Strayed from back to front.  It wasn't intentional, but once I started flipping through this Christmas gift, I couldn't stop.  Several of the quotes resonated and this one seems to be my spring/summer mantra:

Travel by foot.  There is so much you can't identify at top speed. 

- Cheryl Strayed (p76)

Machu Picchu trail, Peru
March 2016

Up in the Clouds

I took so many photos during the three week trek in South America that it's impossible to pick a favorite.  The theme for this year seems to be fresh start and I think, for today, this fits.

Time-lapse Swirling Waterfall
Cloud Forest, Ecuador
March 2016

Have a great weekend!

Lost in Space with Time

The downside of selecting an airline which only has one flight a day back to the US is that you might find yourself stuck in the general lobby area patiently waiting for the three-hour window before departure which will allow you to offload your 35 pound backpack (and unintentionally your mobile phone).  The upside is that this seven hour window of time, when paired with a Kit-Kat and two bottles of water, will allow you the opportunity to read a book in full as well as challenge yourself a few times with navigation to the very small-roomed facilities carrying three bags (two of which are backpacks).  Viva la adventura.

I had selected Sleeper Protocol by Kevin Ikenberry because it was the one book out of three that had completely downloaded to my e-reader while I was on WiFi*.  I had thought it to be one of the Kindle's Free monthly reads until I read the author's biography after finishing the book and discovered that it was a book I had purchased because the author had local ties to Space Camp.  (Viva Rocket City.)

Let me first say that it is I think the ONLY fictional book that I have read that mentions the Nolichucky and Cherokee Mountain.  These were pleasant surprises that endeared me to the read perhaps a little more than someone who doesn't know East Tennessee geography.

This book is sci-fi meets alien war meets crazy scientist(s) meets a female Hal meets the Good Guy (in 305 pages).  At no point did I want to stop reading.  The story is quick moving, quirky, and has just the right about of science to keep readers engaged.  There are just a few main characters and the reader forms a "good" or "bad" opinion on most of these pretty quickly.  It's fun to watch these early opinions get played out in words.  (We're not always right.)

The title was published in January and I'd recommend adding it to your spring/summer reading lists.  (Plus, I'd like to review the ending in more detail with you after you've read it.)

* Don't tell the author

PS  You'll get your mobile phone back before boarding but you'll get to have a really fun conversation with the security guard about why you're going back.

A Three Hour Tour

The last three weeks were a little more off the grid than normal.  There really aren't enough words to capture all the moments, but here's a small highlight in the form of a letter I wrote from the (tempestuous) boat from Isabela to Santa Cruz:

Dear A and E1*

I hope the day trip was great and there were no sunburns. I'm writing to you about the boat journey and while I could have sent a short SMS, I felt a duty to give you a little more background.

I think I now know what it's like to be in the washing machine with a pair of size 10 high-tops. While massaging for all the inner organs, I'm not sure this tide would make P*'s "Top 5 things to do in Ecuador".

We were 30 on a vessel rated for 25. It was cozy. The first mate handed out small black trash bags (optional) and then sat on the side of the boat holding on for the remainder of the journey.**

To whichever of you who told me last night to sleep [on the boat] like E2, I'm eternally grateful. We were both conked out for most of the journey like those tiny little worms that roll up in your hand. (A*, I'm counting on your Ohio childhood roots to explain that to our L.A. friends). Some fellow passengers might challenge my position as fetal but I would hastily disagree.

My recommendations are the following:

Lunch is a three course affair. Skip one and a half courses. You might be hungry but you don't want a full stomach for this chop.

Go with E2's suggestion to sit on the back and close to the right (starboard?). This might necessitate arguing with a man in slightly heated Spanish but ask P2 to do this for you and tip him well.

In this position you will be three degrees from the sun. Wear sunscreen and get used to all the passengers staring out at you over the horizon taking deep breaths. Remember this is not you and be grateful. Wear sunglasses.

Position the softest of you in the middle, cover up with extra clothing,curl up and go to sleep.

Barring this, take Dramamine or a few tequila shots.

Buena suerte


* Names edited for privacy (and are in no way related to the entertainment network)
**Foreshadowing

Of Fish and Boats

If you've spent more than fifteen minutes with me this last week, chances are I've imposed on you a reading on the Hansen Sea-Cow from The Log from the Sea of Cortez by John Steinbeck. I've found the book to be witty, practical, and I'm absolutely enrapt in the art the specimen collecting in 1940.  

Add this title to your reading lists, visit Cabo San Lucas if you can, and if you're going to step into reefy waters, wear rubber boots.

The Saturday Run Reminisce

I miss you on the long runs

The bridges, the tower, the half-way turn

Each singing our own song.

Too tired for stairs

Laughing

I miss you on the short jogs

The out and back quick jaunt

Stretch the legs and the mind.

Too happy for words

Smiling

I miss you on the fast sprints

The last block, a lap, circles, race

Cross first, imaginary line.

And I always did

Breathless

I miss you on the long walks

Square purses and the wrong shoes

Late nights, stars, a little chilly

Hand over hand

Silence

That's Amore

Continuing the tradition from here, we'll let the picture have today's 1000 words:

2010 - K&K's reception
Nashville, TN

Cupcakes, hearts, plane tickets, dancing, limping your way through Spanish...however you're spending the weekend, I hope it's full of love.

PS  If you have creme brulee in the oven without a timer, don't get lost in writing.

Amber Lines

In the last two weeks, there have been moments of enlightenment through physical pain.  [I can't recall whether or not this was one of the limbs of yoga, but let's review together that "spa" does not always mean the wave-crashing, peaceful moments that we sometimes envision.  These professionals are strong and highly trained.  They. Can. Hurt. You. (in the name of recovery)]  But I'm digressing.

Today, she had Mark Knopfler playing in the background.  The song was from The Princess Bride soundtrack and it started a great conversation about movies, books, and concerts.  (It was also fun for me to reminisce about having seen Mr. Knopfler on stage in Helsinki.)  Despite my being a dozen years older, we had quite a bit in common (vintage cookbooks!) and before I ever mentioned my current break from a normal schedule, she told me about her nine month sabbatical.  She spent three months in San Francisco, sold her broken car in Knoxville for parts to get out there, and bought a used truck to drive back (coast to coast).  She had a stretch as an airline flight attendant (recommended if you don't like your family at the holidays) as well as several odd and sundry stints of short term employment before she "found" herself.  She said she wouldn't have traded it for anything else.  She hasn't owned a computer in years and loves to read.  She spoke about her focus to live in the moment and encouraged me to read Beautiful Uncertainty by Mandy Hale.

So on a day where I wondered if this really was one of the craziest things I've ever done, I got a bit of encouragement from an unexpected spring.

Messier Subject

I had forgotten that in my recent foray to acquire Steinbeck and MacQuarrie, I had also ordered An Astronaut's Guide to Life on Earth by Col. Chris Hadfield.

In truth, this is now the book I'd like to read prior to my travel reading.  While not quite a syzygy, I do think it's the alignment of 1) the talk about the sun by NASA's Mitzi Adams last weekend at our Planetarium 2) Hadfield's mustache and 3) Sunday's 4 minute viewing of the ISS.

Does anyone else run from the back yard of their house to the front yard to try to maximum the viewing?

I don't think I will ever tire of looking up at the sky on a clear night.

The First Days of the Pause

It's my first week of the sabbatical.

It feels weird, in part because I think I'm still not quite "there"*.  I'm consulting so at least one unit of my day is tied to answering questions but the rest has been mine to schedule.**

So I'm here, in this place that's been scheduled with volunteering, cleaning, cooking with kale, exercise, studying Spanish, two daily units of Gilmore Girls, pondering all life's big questions (where and what mostly), and adding books to my reading list.  (And exhale.)

This week's additions include:

* An advance read by a local author friend (of which I'm most excited to dive in)
* The Log from the Sea of Cortez by John Steinbeck (prep for a February adventure)
* The Last Days of the Incas by Kim MacQuarrie (prep for a March adventure)

I've got these queued up to begin after I finish Take Me with You by Katherine Ryan Hyde.  I started this read when temperatures were below 20F so I'm due to wrap it up.

Hope your year of new beginnings has been just that.


* Defining "there" to be that blissful image that everyone seems to have in mind of "sabbatical" which doesn't involve setting one's house in order after having been gone four of six weeks and likely doesn't include any chores.

** "Schedule" references the fact that a Type A personality doesn't really sabbatical like an artist probably does.

Count Me In

For a week I thought of everything in terms of numbers:

• 1 gate at RHI
• 1 hour to "town"
• 336 Population in 2010 (plus our 3)
• 12 batteries of power
• 1 out of 2 generators functioning
• 1 bar on my personal phone
• 2 bars on my work phone 
• 1 day to fully acclimate to no phones
• 30 minutes of charging = 5 Amp hours (Ah)
• Solar panels = 1.0 Ah unless standing in front of them, then 0.6 Ah
• Ceiling fan with the light = (-2 Ah)
• Water pump = (- ~5 Ah)
• Minimum battery power = 70%; max = 100% (but only on the last two days when the backup generator worked properly)
• 4 flashlights, 4 headlamps, and 3 lanterns
• 1 mile to the gate
• 2 days without showers to conserve electricity
• 1 day of washing hair in the sink
• 2 1000 piece puzzles completed
• 2 books read
• 1 repeat viewing of The Force Awakens
• 7:45 body wake-up time
• 4:20 Sunset time
• Not being able to stay awake past 22:00
• Indoor temps 55-75; outdoor temps 15-25
• 1 night of nightmares and thoughts of being eaten by large animals which forced me on the sofa
• I don't know how many songs on 3 ipods and a hard drive
• 2 bottles of sparking rosé just for fun
• 1 glow party
• Countless cups of coffee and tea

The vacation in the woods took an intro into and a gentle exit back out of transitioning to "normal" life.  I'm trying to step away from my phone a little more and be present.  I've lost count of the number of people who told me I look more relaxed.  A week off the grid with numbers surely did me some good.