I am still trying to figure out...

why I insist on coming home for Christmas...

and staying...

yeah, there is something of a story there, but it is not nice or interesting, so that's all I have.

UPDATE...
So, I took a little time and wrote in my paper journal this afternoon. It was by no means earth shattering, but afterwards, I was breathing more deeply and feeling so much lighter.

It may have to do with mailing application number 3... who knows?

I am hoping to finish application number 4 tonight and turning my attention to apps 5 and 6... it could be over very soon.

Happy Holidays!

Where do the days go? As I walk around, rather run around crazy, trying to get things done and feeling like if I just had two more hours in each day that I might actually get some things scratched off the list, I think about what to write on my blog -- so many thoughts rolling round my head.

Still, I get home and have no time, I am running around to the next thing, so I don't make it to the computer, or if I do, only with the time to read what others have written.

I made some holiday cards -- then I was embarrassed to send them, they are not as beautiful as I would like them to be, they can't really compete even with the free cards I got from some foundation wanting money ... but I sent them anyway, but only to people who I thought would appreciate the TIME (more precious than money to me right now) that I spent making the cards.

I am sending one out to you, internet, too... though it won't be like the physical cards, I haven't figured out how to emboss on the internet... here's the quote I would have liked to include on all the cards, but they turned out too small...

[picture Pooh and Christopher Robin leaning against each other or Pooh and Piglet walking away hand in hand or a beautiful rendering of two doves that wish you peace on earth, or all three if you like -- the Poohs are embossed in gold powder, the doves in red or green sparkly]

I keep my friends as misers do their treasures,
because, of all things
granted us by wisdom,
none is greater or better than friendship.
-Pietro Acetino

Plans rarely go just as they should, and life presents more challenges than gifts, yet, sharing all of the bumps and triumphs with friends is a much more precious treasure.

I wish you all the best in the New Year -- and holidays, whichever you celebrate, filled with family (birth or found or created) and friends and joy and remembrance...

Bruiser

So, I haven't been telling you, but I have been sporting a black eye for over a week... I call it my battered woman look, and that is awful because there are women out there being hurt by people who "love" them. No one struck me. I am told that I should make up a better story, but the truth is it was an occupational hazard (another good reason to stay unemployed?). No, I am not employed by the roller derby, but that would be a fun story.

Someone wasn't paying attention when I was helping to unload some boxes from a truck to a hand truck (dollie, whatever you like to call it), and the handle hit me really hard right on the top of my cheek bone, one inch higher and it would have been my eye. So for the first few days, I focused on my good luck not to have ended up in the hospital and not to have lost my eye. When on the fourth day it hurt more and seemed more swollen I was just tired of it. Not to mention that I kept forgetting that I was sporting my black eye and couldn't figure out why people were staring at me all the time ... yes, I have a black eye.

Now it's over a week from the accident, still have a black eye, still have a bump on my face but it doesn't hurt so bad. If I am lucky, I guess I won't still have a black eye on Christmas.


Sorry I don't have better pictures but my camera is out of batteries and I haven't had time to do anything about that ... though Shay got some with her iphone, maybe she will share them with me since she has already shown them to everyone else who knows me!

not time for champagne yet

I don't know what's wrong with me... honestly, I could spend some time psychoanalyzing myself but that would just be another form of procrastination which at this point ... well, let's just say one of the two applications due today is in the mail (YAY!) but the other is one short three page essay away from being done.

I have written the essay, but it's four pages and even if it weren't four it would still be too long... it's just that there are parts that don't belong there but if I didn't write those parts I could not have gotten the rest out... now I need to really edit as though this is not my life I am cutting into shreds, so I decided I would just post it all here ... don't feel obliged to read it, I just want it to have a little longer life. Then I will cut and pare and edit and make it into a pretty lithe little piece about my life...done.

just the little rant I sometimes need to do in order to make writing happen

------------------
I am a child of children of the depression. That has always meant doing more with less and a fierce determination to reach my goals. As much as I have always relished my accomplishments as my own, in truth, every step I take is with the history of my family. My immigrant grandparents left a war torn country for the unknown and struggled for years to both provide for their family and retain their dignity. My orphaned grandmother who ended up in an Indian school with her siblings as New Mexico became a state and had to think like an adult to hold her family together when she was only 10. My grandfather, the son of sharecroppers, rode the rails from farm to farm eventually learning the blacksmith trade and thus secured his family’s future. When I look back at my accomplishments they both pale in comparison and stand in honor of their struggles.
...

percolating

Waiting for water to boil or the coffee to brew how often do we consider the tremendous amount of work going on in there? Impatience for tangible outcomes can cloud our appreciation for the heat, the power, the industriousness going on inside the pot.

Sometimes there is work going on when one is just playing a game on the computer or reading Harry Potter.

The chicks....

I once described teenagers as being like the little chicks who have just emerged from their shells.

Pecking away at their confinement has left them tired and cranky as well as ecstatic at the prospect of freedom.

They emerge not majestic like butterflies from cocoon, but wet, exhausted and hungry -- both for nourishment and excitement.

-----------------------**************************----------------------------------

Tears come easily (it feels like too easily) to my eyes.

I don't know if it is unexpressed sadness, fear or frustration.

I am ready to move on to a new chapter and yet the thought of movement or making the first move, taking the first step, scares the shit out of me.

Morning Sugar, Friday Style

I am in the last big push of the graduate school applications -- I hope this is it, at least, since it is only the first two that are actually due on Monday.

I am trying not to think about the fact that I had set a goal for myself to have these done in September.

I am going to set a schedule and get a ton done today -- and then do more tomorrow and more on Sunday and when the sun rises on Monday -- I plan to be DONE.

I was pleased to wake to this: a wonderful story about a dad who believed in his daughter and her right to study whatever she wanted in the face of doubt and cyncism.

"Daddy fix." -- that is what she would say after she took something apart and wanted to watch her father put it back together. I was touched by the faith that is the foundation of that request.

As a child, I would run behind my mother and yell "free" knowing that she would protect me without questions asked.

I am hoping to channel a little of that faith and confidence today as I write the last of the statements and edit the draft of what I will do in graduate school.

Happy Friday ... let's hope it's productive.

Catching Up ... Or Procrastinating

I should be working on my graduate school apps... instead I am trying to get some drafts published...

here's what's done so far:

Turkey Day
Grand Canyon
Driving Home

There is more to come...

There a Million Other Things I Should Be Doing

But... I have decided to give this one update first:

I am starting day FIVE of serious dieting today... I am proud to say I managed to stay below 1250 calories for um, one day -- that would be the day that I was too tired to be hungry at all.

I stayed below 1400 for another two days ... and below 1300 on one other day... I am hoping that today will be extra special good since I didn't make it out to run before I head out to a marathon work weekend.

But I intend to hit the gym while I am there and stick to the diet -- all the while budgeting in for the free wine and champagne, yeah.

That's all...

birds of a feather?

I was composing this post in my head as I walked to the bus terminal -- trying to figure out if compassion could be applied posthumously into my memory of the weekend (and bemoaning the fact that I didn't actually inject compassion into the situation as it happened).

Compassion -- for me and the patience I didn't have and for my siblings for the judgements we made about each other's actions.

I was thinking about how difficult it is to remake yourself -- or to be your genuine self (new self, adult self) when we are thrust back into the old (read: family) situation.

As if a sign from the universe, I looked up and saw a huge flock of birds swirling and moving in a large mass -- round and round they went creating new shapes, zig zagging in wide arches in search of bugs, I guess.

And I was awed at their ability to stay in harmony, to move as one. I considered the kind of communication they must achieve without recognizing the times some must have flown into another, throwing another off balance, moving him/herself out of position and then recovering enough to stay in formation.

Envious, I mused on whether that is what it is like being in a congenial family that doesn't interact like a bunch of middle schoolers -- you know, punching and pulling hair as a sign of affection. I wondered what it would be like to interact like the birds -- congruous, flexible, resilient.

Then they broke into two groups just as I was entering the bus terminal leaving me to ponder the meaning.

Madrugadas

No me gusta madrugar.

And by that I mean at all.

If I could spend all morning in bed, I would, quite frequently on a day off, I do.

But, I have been trying (rather unsuccessfully thus far) to get up early -- with the hope that I will get my exercise (what exercise?!) in first thing.

It is an admirable goal -- and up til now just that.

So, when I had to break up the 15 hour drive back from Williams, AZ to Oakland, I decided to get a little sleep in Oxnard and then pop in the car at 3 am.

I am happy to report that I made it -- both made it home safely and into the car at 3 am. There are several drawback to starting that early -- the starbucks you have become accustomed to are not really open til 5 or 6 am depending where you are.... at that hour I was in the middle of nowhere.

I stopped to get gas and buy coffee -- at a minimart -- and there was no milk... so I got back in the car and I kept going. I had no coffee... I had had no breakfast, I had not planned ahead enough to figure out that I would need food and that nothing would be open. Luckily I had a few bars in my bag.

It was foggy in patches very dense fog surrounded the car. It was almost like driving at the dead of night -- not as though the sun were about to shine through the clouds.

Suddenly at around 7 am -- the sun poked through and the sky was light. And I was almost home - and about to hit traffic in San Jose.

Grand Canyon, with the family

With all the traveling -- over 30 hours total driving in seven days -- I forgot to take care of some details for the trip, like getting batteries for my camera. My mother did as well.

Thankfully we were only at the Grand Canyon for the day, so we only had to suffer not taking pictures for a few hours after the batteries died.

Here are Grammie, Poppa and the Mijo before he was taken to look at the "forest" - note no harness yet.

For some reason, we were all fascinated with the rivers and streams in the canyon.


This guy looked up as I was snapping shots, I swear he could here the shutter and looked up in curiosity. In any case, he looked right at us -- and was a great end to the day. Next stop -- DINNER!

Turkey Day

My little sister hosted all the hooligans at her house in Las Vegas for Thanksgiving.

Note the white couches... she likes white... and she only has the little dog (Lola) to keep in line.

Lola says to my dad or anyone that would listen: "Protect me!
I am surrounded by KIDS!"

The kids (and the men) were all given the rules about not eating in the living room -- connected to the dining room. Some snacks made it in front of the tv anyway.

We put the kids in the middle -- and they did just fine -- besides it was raining outside!





a table full of people -- actually THREE tables put together, I think the final count was 20

DESSERT!

The Mijo made his choice. Mom said only one. And he only ate the frosting.

Afterwards, they all piled into cars and went to see a movie (kids) or to the casino (adults except those going to the movies) -- and I did some work in a finally quiet house.

My dad and Lola enjoyed the quiet, kidless house.

beauty

Long story short because I am out of time. But in response to me stating that I am not photogentic, a colleague shared this with me today...


I hadn't seen it, but I am loving this ad campaign.

I am feeling pretty lovely on my own just about now.

Morning Gold

I love to wake up out of my morning haze to two pieces -- Perspectives and StoryCorps.

In preparation for National Day of Listening, we are getting a StoryCorps interview every day this week!! This weekend we got two absolute perfect diamonds -- Scott Simon (who could read the alphabet on air and be interesting and entertaining) and Liane Hansen getting super personal - these are absolutely must listens!

This morning, I finally roused myself enough to hear Steve Inskeep's mom talk about why she became an English teacher. I am sure that the story had gotten into my consciousness even as I slept. Not only did it help me wake with the idea of writing about my inspirations, it also gave me an insight into Steve his daily work has not. I liked Steve just a little bit this morning -- generally I just want Bob back whenever I hear Steve's whinny voice.

Ah... and then, already awake and typing, I heard the latest Perspective -- about coffee names! I immediately realized I needed to post this, so I went in search of the archive -- it has been difficult for me to find in the past. This time I came up with a page promising me the chance to subscribe to the podcast. This is important because sometimes I sleep through the first part of the piece and NEED to hear it again. You can't count on weaving a story into your dream, so you might actually miss some important part of the idea being presented. [I will warn you that the link offered on this page as the subscribe to podcast actually takes you to the QUEST subscription -- not at all the same thing -- but once at iTunes, you can choose to see all the podcasts from KQED and choose Perspectives.]

If you are in the mood for morning gold, then you might as well go ahead and listen to this piece, too. Junot Diaz talking about walking in the shoes of immigrants before you think about dropping dime to ICE or just hating someone you don't know. What a morning!

Talk about when it rains, it pours ... I have about three more posts I want to write today! We'll see what we get.

Part of the Other 48 Pages

Why is it so hard to write about yourself? Given the number of memoirs (real and imagined) we’ve heard about recently, you wouldn’t think that it is. But writing about yourself as part of an application is like pulling out your own fingernails.

I have been wondering all these months if there is something particular to my situation that makes me so resistant to the writing. Late, very late, last night, as I was trying to finish up some of the graduate school application work, an ex-colleague saw that I was online and IMed me.

She was up late, working on her law school application. We commiserated on how grueling the process is – especially writing about yourself. She needed a favor – she is working on a fellowship application – having to write the two pages that must convince the readers that she is the ONE person whose study should be paid in full. She has four pages that need to be turned into two pages – by Tuesday.

Even though I struggle daily to find the time and energy to work on my applications, I eagerly thought through how I could find the time to read her four pages and offer my suggestions.

She asked about my applications and as I wrote her in chat format what I want to do, it was so clear – and granted she knows me, she doesn’t know me that well; we were really only colleagues for a few weeks. [We both survived working with the crazy lady and so we bonded.] I typed in two sentences and they made sense and I wondered if I had been that clear in my own statement draft.

Maybe what makes writing this kind of document so difficult is what you can’t say. Every time I have approached this kind of writing since I graduated from college, I have struggled with the idea of touting me – though there are accomplishments and accolades to write about, when you only have two page, you must take full credit for everything.

There is no chance to talk about the village that raised you. You are only allowed to talk about the days when you cleared the hurdle by a mile – not the days when you barely made it over, but your foot tipped obstacle and turned it over. The picture you have to present is supposed to be perfect in a way that no one ever is – perfect in its succinct ability to get all these sides into two pages or perfect in that it represents your best self but never has to say how you got to be that self.

Taking credit for how I got to be this me without acknowledging Mrs. Kelly or Mrs. Davis or Ms. Soliz or Ms. Tatum. It doesn’t allow me to explain how much of this me comes from my opposition to Mr. Rexford or Mr. and Mrs. Lundquist or even Mrs. Tingstrom.

So this morning after only three hours of sleep, I woke with the desire to write pages and pages about what I can’t put in my application. Some part of me began (loudly) to argue with this logic – WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS RIGHT NOW. But, that is why I have a blog. To rant about things – to put the thoughts and ideas and problems and complaints that swirl around my head somewhere.

It seemed so clear to me (perhaps it is sleep deficit) – and maybe it would even help me to get some of these ideas pared down into graduate school application acceptable sentences – because you don’t get paragraphs, you get sentences and well chosen words.

You are forewarned, internet. Watch out.

two steps forward, one step back

Frustration does begin to describe how I feel after my visit to the doctor on Friday.

On my quest to be the most fabulous forty ever -- weight loss was a means to an end: health.

So, now I am nearly 3o lbs lighter -- still 10-15 lbs from my goal, but so very close to being healthy according to BMI standards.

And my cholesterol is HIGHER than it was in June. Um, ok, perspective. My magic number in June was 216, but my LDL was 139 and my HDL was 56. The doctor said she wouldn't care if I didn't lower my LDL if I could get my HDL to 60.

Instead, my LDL went up and my HDL went down. In other words, both went in the wrong direction.

I am off the dead animals other than fish until further notice... if when I get my blood tested again we don't see what we want, we are going to have to talk about other causes of cholesterol issues -- not a conversation I want to have.

So, I am on the serious get the belly fat to go away campaign.

I WILL get back on the exercise bandwagon.

I WILL start training for another half on December 1 -- tentative target date March 15 -- now I just need to find the race.

I WILL reach my weight loss goal by February 2nd -- and birthday month will be healthy and tasty ... I guess I need to start practicing those recipes.

Why is it that ever since I went to the doctor I have been craving a burger?!

Universe, give me strength and resolve.

tension

Last year, we adopted a family through the Salvation Army -- it was my little sister's idea. A great one, by the way. She rightly saw that we have so much and NEED so little, why not give to a family as a family. We wanted to give to the mom so she could play Santa as we are sure she would like to, but she has to first pay the rent and buy the food and the gas and on and on.

It was a hard sell.

I don't know why it surprises me, but it does. My older siblings decided not to participate. One never responded to the email and the other said she wanted to do something for her husband's family member who had fallen on hard times. But later on I would hear her say to her daughter that we were doing it because we didn't want to buy them presents.

That they didn't want to participate made me sad; but to hear the premise twisted in such a way really hurt my heart.

Not only had we (the three younger siblings and my mother with a little cajoling) gotten as much as we could off the list for the family, we had also bought a little something for everyone else -- maybe it was small: less than $10 -- but we did our best to be thoughtful with that $10.

In the end, it was a nice Christmas but there was so much tension leading up to it, I was worried how it would turn out.

The only thing that had gone absolutely right was doing for others -- we had to be done with the list by the first week in December in order to have everything ready to give to the Salvation Army -- and we made the deadline. We all converged on my parents house for a faux-Thanksgiving and gathered the gifts we had bought -- sharing with each other the treasures we were hoping would meet with approval on Christmas day -- even though we wouldn't be there to see it.

After that weekend, I was so excited about Christmas -- I spent time shopping for those little gifts for my family with a joy I can't remember having in the crazy shopping season. [I usually buy gifts all year round in order to avoid the crazy buying people that descend on malls at this time of year.]

This year, time got away from us -- and we just started planning. The same three are committed and we strong armed my mother into a contribution as well -- and I want to invite my other siblings to participate.

I drafted an email to them to try to explain in greater detail the why and the how -- we have had the great fortune to have a wonderful family who has over these many years given so much to us. We just want to share that with others -- we don't need to buy each other things -- it's so not about things ... I even offered the alternative of coming up with creative, heartfelt gifts for each other -- share your favorite song or poem or book or picture; invite a sibling to dinner or a movie or a hike or just to spend time together; offer to babysit and give one of our siblings with children the night off or a weekend off... or make something for each other or just write your sibling a letter...

I am afraid to send it ... I am not sure if I have expressed it quite right -- I am not saying there is anything wrong with gifting -- but isn't the season about more than what you can buy in a store? And I am not talking about Jesus... if you are confused, read this, or this.

I am talking about a time to share with family -- for some families the only time in the year that they are together -- a time to count our blessings -- and maybe to see that no matter how bad things seem, we really do have quite a lot of wealth -- not always money but certainly the support of our family and friends and the legacy of hardworking parents and grandparents who were willing to leave the comfort of their countries (or distress or discomfort as the case may be) to give us a chance at something better... there's more, you know it, though.

I am looking for the courage to send the note. I am hoping for the wisdom to understand that it is less what I say and more how they hear. And the patience to accept whatever will come.

We can do this without them... I would just rather not.

Angels

From DailyOM, as usual, reading my mind:

“During each of our journeys, there are those inevitable moments when someone comes into our life at precisely the right time and says or does precisely the right thing. Their words or actions may help us perceive ourselves more clearly, remind us that everything will turn out for the best, help us cope, or see us through difficult situations. These people are human angels – individuals designated by the universe to be of service to those in need at specific points in time. Some human angels make a commitment before their births to make a positive contribution to the world at a particular moment. Others were chosen by the universe. All human angels, however, come into our lives when we least expect them and when we can most benefit from their presence.

A few of the human angels we may encounter are in professions where helping others is an everyday occurrence. But most of them are regular people, going about their daily lives until called upon to be in the right place at the right time to bring peace, joy, help, or heal someone when they most need it. You may have met a human angel in the form of a teacher who gave you a piece of advice that touched your soul and influenced your path. The person that momentarily stopped you to say hello on the street, delaying you long enough to avoid an oncoming car or a collision, is also a human angel. They may offer nothing more than a kind word or a smile, but they will offer it when you can draw the most strength and support from their simple action.”

So, despite my less than enthusiastic support for all things religious ... I still like the word "ANGEL" to describe those spirits, souls and people who come in our lives and provide that little something that is exactly what we need.

And hoping that sometimes I am that person for someone as so many people/spirits/souls have been there for me.

Jake's Little Brother

I am still trying to find the right way to react to this situation, but I will try to tell you about it anyway.

Last night on my way home from work, I decided to walk from the BART instead of taking the cute shuttle -- mostly because I hadn't taken a walk at lunch, so I really needed the stretch.

I was listening to Bill Moyers on the Ipod Shuffle when a young man on a bike (on the sidewalk) lunged toward me and snatched my shuffle right from my sweater. Um... apparently that was the universe introducing me to Jake's little brother.

I would like to say that in my zen like meditative mode I wished him well and hoped that he needed that shuffle more than me.

That was not the case... I yelled "asshole" at him not really fully realizing that he had not just grabbed at me but had actually stolen my shuffle.

I thought seriously about chasing after him. I kicked myself (metaphorically) in the butt for not having stuck my foot in his bike wheel.

I took out my phone and contemplated calling the police, but decided that him snatching my shuffle didn't really rise to the 911 occasion but didn't have the regular police dept number in my phone. Remember when I did carry that kind of info with me? I decided that I didn't have time to hear a lecture on why I should just give up anything and not fight back and by the way I will never get it back --- basically, I knew that they would say get over it. I wanted my shuffle back -- that was the bottom line but it would not be worth a trip to the police department for me or for Jake's little brother, either.

I wished some large guy from the martial arts place had witnessed it and ran after the guy -- I even contemplated asking a random stranger to drive me that way to see if I could find the little punk.

I warned a young woman on a bike to be careful. She requested that I report the incident to the police.

I was angry. And frustrated. And helpless and small and defenseless. And humiliated?! What a crazy bunch of emotions over an incident that didn't even threaten my safety.

So, I just kept walking home -- and as I walked home I tried to imagine a situation where I could justify buying myself a new shuffle -- or whether or not this was the universe trying to remind me that I didn't want to be one of those people who lives under the headphones.... and I thought about whether or not this would keep me from running this weekend -- yeah, who am I kidding? I had the shuffle all week and I didn't go running!

I made myself dinner, congratulated myself for having gotten that extra mile of walking in, washed dishes and ate a pomegranate as a treat -- slowly peeling the fruit to reveal all the precious jewels -- collecting them in one place until they were all removed from their precious treasure chest and then eating every last one!

And at the end of that I was still upset -- but now I was thinking about what it means to look like a victim -- how does someone decide that you can be victimized and was Jake's little brother worried or anxious -- did his heart beat fast or was he sure I would pose no threat?

And what, if anything, will this mean for my life, now -- would I not walk home from the BART anymore? Would I feel less safe in my neighborhood? Is this the incident that will finally make me feel old and lonely?

I don't know the answer to any of these questions -- but having gone through all the emotions was useful -- as a way of letting them go and not letting them hurt me from the inside.

Today is a new day -- that will be filled with WINE and CHAMPAGNE and yummy food -- the wine country awaits -- I hope that Jake's little brother will listen to This American Life on my shuffle before he erases my fingerprint on that little machine.

Dubious Heroes

I had a plan to go to be early last night, instead, I ended up staying up and watching this.

It was so well made and of certain interest to me -- before I knew it, I was completely engrossed. The filmmakers did such an incredible job of presenting all sides, and, still, it made me want to cry.

Happy Holidays!

This one is for Tafari.

I read this article today (can't find the link to the article I read but there are many more) and had to check myself from laughing out loud ... LOVED IT.

It turns out the American Humanist Association (who affectionately refer to themselves as AHA -- you'll get it if you read their site) has a new ad campaign in Washington DC for this holiday season: "Why believe in a god? Just be good for goodness' sake."
Here's the ad:

Here's what it looks like on the bus:

This is my favorite pic:

I would love to send this as my holiday card -- though I don't try to upset people who do believe -- it would be great to have a card that expressed my emotions during the season.

I especially liked this list of where "Christmas" comes from -- to counter all the bible thumpers.

honoring service

How about we honor our veterans by ...
giving them access to quality mental health services -- as soon as they need it.
limiting deployment
giving widows and widowers monetary help
supporting families while their loved ones are deployed -- physically, mentally and financially

to name a few things we can do

thank you for serving...

I hope our new administration will honor your service with more tangible demonstrations than flag pins and magnetic yellow ribbons on their cars

still catching up

with the trip blog... check it out

I am plotting some back posts here that I have been working on as well... soon.

one of my favorite flora from the trip

Yes we did

projection -- via NPR
Barack Obama 338
McCain 144
via NYTimes
Barack Obama 293
McCain 152

so, when did NPR become the ones out on the front lines?

who cares... we won... waiting for the acceptance speech ... pretty happy with McCain's concession speech.

I Made History, Did You?

don't forget to vote -- then pick up your free Starbucks and free cone at Ben and Jerrys!

Los Dias de los Muertos

In some way, the past three weeks I have been celebrating the dead.

It started with a way to find out more about my grandmother, but it turned out to be about so many more people -- those I knew, my grandmother, my great-uncle, my grandfather, his siblings; and those I never knew but knew existed once -- my grandmother's siblings and parents and cousins and aunts and uncles; and those who I may not have even know existed, really -- like Teresita Urrea and all the Revolucionarios and the Adelitas -- and all the students at the Santa Fe Indian School and St. Cate's over all those years ... and when I visited the Taos Pueblo, I was reminded of all those indigenous folks who did not survive the encounter -- and when I visited the Petrified Forest and saw the Puerco Pueblo, I remembered all those people who lived out there in that beautiful place so very long ago.

Today, I thought a lot about all those who gave their lives that we might vote -- and tears welled in my eyes when my fellow GOTV volunteers cheered the organizer reminding us that but for those folks in the 50's and the 60's and the 70's.

I felt their souls and hearts and eyes on me throughout the journey -- like a warm blanket or cozy socks. They gently reminded me when I was at the limit of my frustration (and taking it out on my parents) that compassion is like LENT -- if you fall off the wagon, you just get back on the game.

On this special day, I remember them all again (and a few more who travel with me daily --- my other grandma and my friend, Jaime) and feel their presence and toast their existence and their memory in my life.

weather

Before the trip -- I checked the 10 day weather forecast for the first three cities (Phoenix, El Paso and Santa Fe) -- the predicted weather would require three kinds of clothing -- it was to be pretty much super hot in Phoenix (90s) and El Paso would be more moderate (70s) and Santa Fe had a chance of rain and clouds and need for sweaters (60s) -- um, yeah. I was prepared for the three climate swing and hoping that Las Vegas and Prescott would fit into one of these three -- but in fact, on Tuesday, October 28 we saw our first sign of weather.

That would be the clouds in the picture above -- we actually stopped the car in the Petrified Forest in order to make sure to catch these little clouds before the wind carried them away. This was after Phoenix, El Paso, Santa Fe and Gallup... where we saw nothing but blue skies and found the temps warmer than we're used to in Oakland and Oxnard -- and even Santa Fe was warmer than we expected. Go figure.

Today, I got big fat drops of rain in Las Vegas and a little wind storm -- lovely -- as I was walking around North Las Vegas... more on that later but all in code as I am not supposed to share why I was walking around and what I was doing!

COUNTDOWN

Six more days until we decide our future.

If there are any of you out there still deciding, you might want to go ahead and see W.

Since that was the only movie that my parents wanted to see at the theater nearest our hotel in Prescott, AZ, that was the movie I saw tonight.

Whereas my father said that he found reason to have sympathy for Georgie, I did not.

Here's what I did -- cringe, cover my face, shake my head.

Why didn't someone, ANYONE, get this man a little therapy to deal with his daddy issues rather than encouraging him to go ahead and run for office when he had NEVER successfully held ANY job?

Think seriously about our future -- we don't need another person in need of therapy taking over the presidency -- or vice-presidency -- and religion is not an adequate substitute for therapy.

Can't wait for Tuesday evening to watch the returns...

UPDATED: Amazing Beauty -- photos attached!

This is the PAINTED DESERT

We had a full day of beauty -- first natural beauty at the National Petrified Forest.

These are a few of my photos (since I was driving, I only took 150 or so shots but my mother blew through another set of batteries taking photos -- probably close to 600 just that day).


Our two or three hour tour through the forest turned into almost six hours there... we just couldn't tear ourselves away.

I saw these birds chilling in the shade and threw them some dried fruit, and then they proceeded to follow us along the road and come up to the car each time we stopped -- my dad was not convinced it was the same bird until I caught him flying alongside us.

These are the Pueblo Puerto Ruins and Petroglyphs




I had planned to get to Winslow before 2pm so that we could have lunch at La Posada and then head towards Prescott via Sedona for more beautiful landscape.

Well, by the time we got to Winslow, it was 4 pm. The weren't serving dinner until 5, so I made a reservation. We bought a self guided tour booklet and wandered around the building and grounds. I haven't been there since 2002, so there was much that had been restored.

I discovered this place via NPR back when I was commuting 45 miles each way and surviving off the magic of the story in ugly turnpike traffic. I made it a point on my cross country trek to the new job to stop in Winslow and stay over. I stayed in the Mary Coulter Room and treated myself to a fantastic dinner at the Turquoise Room.

I wanted my parents to experience this place, so after our tour, we had drinks in the Martini Bar and then had a fabulous dinner -- my dad had the Churro Lamb (only available at this restaurant), my mom had the fillet mignon, and I had the Colorado Elk. YUM -- not to mention the chocolate souffle for dessert.