Monsoon Season

Las Cruces used to get most of its annual moisture in a two week 'monsoon season'. Two weeks in summer would have a lot of thunderstorms -- gully washers, even -- and that would be it. The rest of the year would be dry.

Last year, monsoon season uncharacteristically lasted twelve weeks.

It's running long this year, too. My theory is that higher temperatures lift more water out of the gulf, and higher air pressures carry it over here to dump it.

Ever since we watched An Inconvenient Truth, I've been drying most of the laundry on a rack and a couple lines in the laundry room. I like to catch the towels when they are not quite dry and tumble them a little to soften them.

Now that it's monsoon season -- the towels just stay at not quite dry. Nothing is drying that well on the rack or lines.

So, the heat create extra moisture that slows drying that tempts me to use the dryer and create more heat -- a vicious cycle.

I'll be glad when the air dries out a bit more.

The house is staying cleaner

All of a sudden, it seems we keep on top of the dishes and the vaccuuming. It's very odd, really. At some point, Doug and I both looked around and said, hey! this place looks better with the floors and counters cleared. And the habits to keep them that way just seemed to happen.

I'm glad to report that I still don't fold fitted sheets as neatly as flat sheets.

May what's important to you come with ease.

Anna

Wood tastes better than metal

Hey!

It's been a while. I have been measurably swamped. With good stuff. The life coaching business is picking up speed, and Tommy's book nears completion. I can hardly wait to be able to show it to people.

Do you know, silverware tastes wrong to me with Chinese food. So I tasted metal and I tasted wood, and wood tastes better to me. Something I probably never would have noticed if I hadn't learned to use chopsticks.

I'm sure there's something profound in there. I'm taking a day off, so I won't dig for it.

Have a great day!

Anna

Too busy?

I just sat down to make myself a to do list, and added over sixty items to it. Hmmm. Some of them are simple, like feed the cats. Some of them are entire projects in themselves, like build a Paypal shopping cart. After all, I still need to create the products that would go in the cart.

I didn't even notice Tuesday passing without a blog this week. Not until Thursday.

So it's quite possible the 'blog every Tuesday' plan has run its course. I'm not sure it still serves a purpose. I have my twice monthly newsletter, Creating Space, to connect on a regular basis. It's more structured and more focused than the blog, and in its five issue life is already receiving much more response than this blog.

So, notice is hereby served: I'm going back to posting irregularly. I'll write here when I wish to. When this is the best forum for my passing thoughts, or when inspiration strikes.

The newsletter, for more regular communications, is available at annaparadox.com/newsletter.

I continue to wish you all the best.

Anna

The best way

My rose bushes are a bit rangy.

So I'm very fortunate that they are also in full bloom.

I took the traditional dozen buds -- and they even had decent length stems -- and placed them in a vase.

Ah.

P.S. In other good news, the spaceport measure has unofficially passed by about 240 votes.

A Squeaker

As of this morning, the Dona Ana county bond measure to build the spaceport in southern New Mexico is passing by a margin of 204 votes. All regular votes have been counted, although the results will not be official for another week. 541 provisional votes -- cast by citizens whose voting eligibility could not immediately be confirmed -- remain to be canvassed and counted.

Historical trends suggest that about 200 of the provisional votes will not be valid. They also suggest that the yes/no balance of the provisional votes will be close to that of the main votes.

For the ballot to fail now, valid, provisional votes against it will have to outnumber votes for it by 205 -- possibly a little less, if a recount changes the numbers a bit. That means that the provisional voters must go against the measure by more than (small pause for math: 541-205=336. 336/2=168 168/(168+205)=45% -- which is the smallest percent of yes votes that can fail, obtained when all ballots are valid and yes loses by one vote.) 55% to 45%. It's still possible the measure will fail. However, its chances of passing look very decent at this point.

It will take a week to check the validity of the provisional ballots and return officials results. I am fairly optimistic that the measure will pass.

In fact, I'm excited! To see this grand project move ahead in my lifetime -- where I will be able to see the vertical contrails from my home -- pleases me very much. I truly look forward to our next steps.

Ooops

I forgot it was Tuesday!

Perhaps a crash was inevitable. After the rush of Ad Astra one weekend and the marathon of editing the next, I slumped into a bit of non-productivity. Drat! Things were going so well.

It wasn't just that I was getting a lot done -- although I like that a lot. I was also surprised by frequent, sudden bursts of joy. Everything felt so right with my world. Bright hopes, blissful work, great health -- I was altogether happy.

Lately, I've been dragging a bit more. Maybe the fatigue catching up with me. And also, while I was very busy I wasn't laying the foundations for my next work. So when the current push ended, I had time on my hands.

Now that I'm an entrepreneur, it continually falls to me to gather my own business. If I let that part slow, then the fun working part slows, too. And I'm still fighting new start inertia. There really is a lot to do.

Yesterday I turned in the papers for my name change. The court process takes about two months, and if there is no objection -- and New Mexico law lists no reason why there should be -- Anna Paradox will be my legal name as well as my usual identity. Filling out the papers was a strange feeling -- as if I had become indeterminate. For a little while, my name is somewhat undefined, and it was as if I, too, was undefined. How much do we confound our existence with our words about it?

All for today.

May you all name yourselves well.

Anna Paradox

Named trinkets

Hello!

Feels like I just came home from Ad Astra, and here it is Tuesday again.

I've been happy all week.

Just before I left, I received my first iPod. It's an 8G Nano Product (red), and I had copied my Holosync in uncondensed audio format to it. Having an audio meditation aid made it possible to travel through delays and arrive in reasonable condition. At some point in the trip, I looked into my purse to get the iPod and thought 'Preciouss!" The name stuck. One ring to scroll them all. Preciouss (sic) it is.

While at the con, I chose to do the neighborly thing, and attend the auction. It's for charity, after all -- in this case, to fund an award for Canadian science fiction. In a brilliant innovation that charity auctioneers everywhere might wish to emulate, three ladies in red dancing dresses presented the items. They did a fantastic job of adding extra interest to the mercenary proceedings.

Midway through the festivities, they brought a costume brooch up for sale -- a gold salamander dotted with orange crystals and with three fiery opalescent ovals following his twisting spine. The lead auctioneer promptly dubbed him "Sparkly Bob". "C'mon," she said, "surely someone can raise the bid on Sparkly Bob."

I'm proud to say I now own Sparkly Bob. I wore him on my brown jacket over a tangerine blouse, with all but his tail emerged from the left chest pocket, and I fancy he was happy there.

May you take pleasure in the gifts that come your way.

Convention Report

What a trip it was!

I prepared myself with a light travel backpack, my liquids 3-1-1'd, in case I wanted to carry it, my new iPod loaded with Holosync, Paraliminals, and music, a bit of reading material, my journal, lots of business cards, one page of talking points for each of my panels, my passport, my printed receipts from the web purchase of my airline tickets, and my hotel reservation confirmation number. Of course I chose clothing from my life coaching wardrobe, and I carried my cell phone, some pens, a notebook and some cash. Those items are my essentials.

I started well. Doug drove me to the El Paso airport, and I quickly found my ticket on the e-check kiosk. All was well. My flight from El Paso to Houston went easily and on time.

The drama started in Houston. My flight to Toronto was cancelled. The only rerouting they could find for me left Houston seven hours later for Las Vegas and then left Las Vegas three hours after that for Toronto. I would arrive at 6 am the following morning rather than 4 pm that day. Since it was due to weather, they offered not so much as a meal voucher.

Well, well, the cell phone came in handy here. I called Doug for emotional support, and he further aided me by emailing the convention programming organizer about my delay, and by getting me the hotel's phone number. I called the hotel, and they graciously agreed to roll my reservation back a day. I called my poker coach, Tommy Angelo, the better to remind myself not to tilt.

Then I had a good time exploring the terminal. I visited a couple check in agents to get the new tickets worked out, and checked my bag. I found a quiet corridor where I had the option to walk rather than take a tram for a quarter mile. I seized the opportunity to sing a Heather Alexander tune unobserved. Or maybe not, because when I next went through security, they set me aside for extra screening. I passed. I stretched, found some food, rested with the aid of Holosync, and the remaining legs of my flight happened as rescheduled. I rested some on each of them, again with Holosync. Was feeling fairly decent when I reached Toronto.

I took a taxi to the hotel, and they graciously checked me in. I was able to get a shower, a change of clothes, and breakfast before my first function. I also registered with the convention, and Alana Otis, the head of programing herself, supplied me with my badge, the con program, the pocket program, and my name on a table tent. Sweet. My badge had a white ribbon that said "Panelist" attached to it, and a schedule with locations for the panels I was on. Very nice.

My first function was the Polaris book launch. I met Julie Czerneda (cher-NAY-da), the editor of the anthology, and three of my co-authors, Emily Mah, Jane Carol Petrovich, and Sarah Niedoba. They were all friendly and articulate. Julie ran everything with energy and kindness, Emily turned out to also be from New Mexico, Jane brought her son Benjamin, and Sarah was the winner of the student contest, charmingly modest. After Julie introduced us and told how she came to gather a polar science anthology, we each spoke briefly about our stories, and then people lined up to have us sign their books. I signed for about 40 minutes, feeling amazingly thankful to be there, and to have people care.

My three official panels were Privacy vs. Security, Editing Tips and Tricks, and Terror vs. Optimism. At all three, I felt I had something useful to add. At none did I present all my prepared points, as there were other thoughtful and energetic panelists presenting theirs. I was glad I had prepared. I enjoyed being at the front of the room, felt perfectly comfortable there, and I want to do it again.

Around the panels, I talked to people. I met a lot of friendly and thoughtful fans and pros. I picked up some items from the auction, and some from dealers. I lost track of how many of my cards I had given away. While my energy held, I glowed just to be at a con. When it flagged, I went to my room and rested.

It was a very good con. The warm local fen had me feeling right at home. And there was an interesting streak of activism. We had Julie Czerneda telling us that polar science was particularly critical now, Cory Doctorow suggesting we join the EFF and reroute our web traffic, and David Stephenson tracing the materials science that will make space mining or stiff population reduction our only options if current trends continue. I can't recall a con where there was so much encouragement to act on behalf of the future. I liked that, too. It feels like time for it.

My trip home had a few complications as well. I was sorted home only two hours late, with the help of friendly and competent Continental Air employees. It was good to smell the air of the Southwest again.

I do belong at conventions like these. I want to continue to be a panelist, and continue to meet and talk with fans. I had an amazing time.

May you all find your communities.

Poised Between Past and Future

Last week, I changed the template and couldn't think of a thing to say. This week, almost too much has happened, and I'm preparing for another significant event.

On Wednesday, Doug's father Mo went back to the hospital. Lois found him groggy and confused -- much unlike him -- and called an ambulance. Her first thought, after his recent heart troubles, was stroke. As it turned out, he had a bacterial infection that flooded his system with toxins. He spent two days in ICU, had some drama over low blood pressure, followed by skyrocketing blood sugar, and at last a return to healthy homeostasis, and then they sent him home again, with both sulfa and a powerful mold-based antibiotic.

The infectious agent was an antibiotic-resistant form of staph called MRSA for methicillin-resistant staphylococcus aureus. There's a discussion of it here which is enough to worry a person. The mention of the need again to emphasize hand-washing among health care workers seemed like a throwback to the years before Pasteur.

Mo went to ICU Wednesday evening. By Thursday morning, modern medical science had a decisive edge in the battle. Lois said we needn't fly out. Last night we spoke to them, and they were tired and returning to normal.

Meanwhile, last week was also final push for one of my editing clients. Professional No-Limit Hold 'em went to the publisher last night. This one is going to make a difference in how people play no-limit hold 'em. Look for it from 2 + 2 in a couple months. 2 + 2 is a small and agile publisher, as well as holding their products to a high standard of reliability. I'm very pleased to have been part of the project.

Now I gear up for my first science fiction convention as a guest. I'm on three panels at Ad Astra in Toronto next weekend, plus the book launch for Polaris, which holds my first published sf story. I'm really looking forward to seeing the con from the other side of the table. I've done a little research and plan to do a bit more and have my thoughts lightly organized on my panel topics. This will make a relatively gradual introduction to public speaking.

If you're in Toronto this weekend, stop by the Crowne Plaza Don Valley and say hi.

Forced change of Blogger

I put it off as long as I could. I resisted every invitation to move to the new Blogger. At last, they made it mandatory this morning. And of course, despite offering to keep my template, the template is broken.

So soon I'll have to say goodbye to this format. I don't know when I'll find time to delve into the html and recreate the lovely corners I used to have. Maybe I will just switch templates. The image file for the corners may be lost.

I have been very busy. Lots of time editing, lots of time devoted to building the life coaching business. Starting to see some traction from both activities. I was very pleased to have someone contact me, interested in editing. We will see how this goes.

Also very excited to be attending Ad Astra science fiction convention in Toronto as a guest first weekend in March. Time to try the other side of the table. I am really looking forward to it.

At my training, Martha Beck asked if we had ever seen a dog work. Dogs totally love their work. They go out and exhaust themselves, bouncing and happy all the time. Long hours, and love, and then when they play or rest, they are one hundred percent present for those activities, too.

I am so glad to have work I love. A twelve hour day of creative engagement with talented people is far more satisfying and much less fatiguing than four hours of meaningless employment.

My long term plan is for a forty hour work week. I am very thankful to the worker's movement for gaining us time for a more varied life.

May your work feed your soul.
Anna

The Smart Cat

Hello, world, it's Tuesday.

Today it's raining in Las Cruces. Pumpkin intrepidly followed Doug out the door when he left for class.

A bit later, I went into my office to check some items off my to-do list. For the first time, Pumpkin was on the exterior sill of my office window. She greeted me, and made some questioning noises.

Pumpkin has a lot of control over her voice. She can say a lot of different words. And when vocalizing doesn't work, she's very expressive with the tilt of her ears and the turn of her back, too.

Anyway, I figured she wanted me to let her in out of the rain. So I went to the front door and called her.

"Row-oo-era?" she said.

"Come on, you can jump off the ledge and make it in."

"Row-row?"

"Hey, it's raining out there, and I have my slippers on. Are you going to make me get my feet wet?"

She paced back and forth on the ledge, pretending to be helpless. "Row-row?"

"Oh, alright." I walked across the yard and through the roof's drip line, and offered my arms. She came to them, and I put her on my shoulder, the way she likes.

"You're spoiled, you know."

She purred loudly, snuggling in, and licking my ear.

"OK, forgiven," I said.

Home and Home

I had a great time at Cosine last weekend. It was a small sf convention in Colorado Springs. The very gracious Connie Willis was guest of honor, and propelled a large proportion of the panels. She had much of interest to say.

Wil McCarthy was also in attendance, and reports progress on his way to Wellstone. He talked about how they have been discovering marketable advances along the way. It is a balancing act, harvesting enough to keep the process fueled and not getting distracted from the main goal.

It was good to be among fandom again. SF does feel like home. So now I'm considering again writing. Connie Willis inspires literary aims. She so clearly loves reading and writing. She likes fans, too.

I gave away a handful of cards and talked a bit about life coaching. It felt like a good warm up.

I have made my airplane and hotel reservations for the Ad Astra Convention in Toronto March 2-4. I'm going to this one alone. Doug enjoyed Cosine, and feels his real work is here during the school year. So he'll be home with the cats. And I'll be on panels for my first time, courtesy of Julie Czerneda and the Polaris launch party. I'm excited. Wow, now I'm really A Pro.

Quite the adventure, and I'm looking forward to it.

May your dreams come true.

Gifts from Cockroaches

Disappointed to read here that Derek Kelly has lost his case that poker is a game of skill. It was a very high road approach to take to the case. His statements to the Gutshot forum indicate he is willing to fight on. I wish him every success.

I've restarted my morning tour of the perimeters of the rooms of my house. When we first moved here, I was finding a cockroach, about one per day, somewhere along the edge of one of our rooms each morning. Rather than let them pile up, I found it satisfying to seek them with a tour each morning, and flush them.

Well, the stream of inverted insects has stopped. I don't know if it is no longer their season, or if their nest died, or if they no longer find my house worth exploring, or what. In any case, I stopped finding somnolent roaches, so I let the morning tour lapse.

Then I found I missed it. So I have started again. It's actually even more pleasant, to survey my home in the predawn -- turning on one light, circling one room, turning off the light and moving to the next area -- when I don't find a cockroach to dispose of. Yet without the daily incursions, I would not have started the habit I now enjoy.

So I guess I owe them thanks. Not that I will grant them any more mercy, should they again start coming into my home.

I find them viscerally repulsive. It is also a gift that I have learned to deal with them, through the disgust, in a fairly calm and organized manner. That lesson, too, will serve me in the future.

For Derek Kelly, and all others who have hit setbacks -- may the apparent misfortune return many times its cost in unexpected ways.

Anna

Restart

Home again, after very nice holidays with Doug's parents -- it feels like the new year starts now. I have plans, long lists of actions to take to advance my business. The lists actually make me happy. I spent time thinking of my next actions, my long term plans, and the reasons I want them over the holidays. The return to center to gather my thoughts and choose my directions really strengthens me.

Here's the deal about life coaching -- I have tools that could help just about anyone. With my training and my experience, I can help people find their true calling, discover the goals that are meaningful to them, release the blocks that come between them and their goals, and develop strategies to achieve those goals. And who couldn't use that? Who couldn't use a listening ear, a skillful mind, and an encouraging voice as their support? And it really doesn't matter if the goals that flow from my client's heart are relationship goals or work goals, success goals, learning goals, health goals, or whatever it may be. Very many of the tools we've learned have extremely wide applicability. I could support just about anyone.

What I really want is to help the smart, creative, progressive people who care about the future be even more effective. I want to help environmentalists develop amazing ways to live abundantly using less energy, and find ways to preserve clean air, clean water, and wild spaces for posterity. I want to help space activists build commercial spaceflight and take all the steps that will lead to a spacefaring civilization. I want to empower the builders of democracy that will help our nation and world be agile, creative, free and just. I want to awaken and help to reach their platform those wise people who will give us the teachings so that we can be happy and wise and kind.

(I want our future to look like the Earth of Star Trek: The Next Generation -- clean and green and peaceful, wise, inclusive, democratic, and our people freed to adventure beyond our well of gravity.)

And I'm glad to work incrementally. Right now, there may be a man who would make a breakthrough in rocket propulsion design -- if only he weren't spending most of his hours wondering why he can't find a woman who loves him. I want to help. Right now, there may be a woman who would build a business selling an amazing energy-saving device, that could make every household in the country more efficient -- only she is so tired, she can't take the steps to realize her dream. I want to help. Right now, an idealistic student has a really great idea to make Washington more responsive to the people and more resistant to corruption -- and thinks the practical thing is to get a safe job and earn a living for twenty years, and then get back to it. I want to help.

I do believe that freeing individuals who care about the future to do their best, to dream and live effectively, is the best path to the best future. And I can do that. And I want to.

It's so strange, talking about this. I still struggle to tell people what I do. I've been able to practice, and I know that people who work with me feel lighter and stronger. They become freer to take action in the direction of their dreams. They find specific steps to take that will improve their lives. And they have someone to support them as they move into new territory. If your life was a game, what would you be playing for? Would having a coach for that game accelerate your progress? How could having someone to check in with every week or every month support you? If you are in transition now, would it help you to talk with someone -- once or a few times or over time -- whose only goal it was to help you find and live your own dreams?

I still write like I want to help everyone. And I do, indirectly. I will best directly serve those who share my interest in a creating a progressive future.

So last night, I made new business cards, targeted to SF fandom specifically. They say: Wings of Infinity Life Coaching. Helping SF Fans Create a Better Future. Then there's my contact information, and finally: Anna Paradox. Choose Your Game. Win it.

I'm taking them to a Cosine in Colorado Springs the weekend after next. It's one tactic to reach the people I can best serve.

Because my game is creating a fantastic future. And my strategy is to help people who care about the future lead more effective lives. Various methods of reaching those people, and various tools to help them, are all tactics to complete that strategy.

And then those I help can deploy their own strategies and tactics toward the glorious future we may reach long after I am gone.

Please bless me today. Most weeks, I bless you -- today I want your blessings. Write me at annaparadox at mac dot com (you know the translation), and send your good wishes. My work is calling, and I could use your support.

Times of transition

We had a wonderful Christmas. After a big family dinner at Izzy's on the 23rd, six of us went to the coast together. Doug's parents are doing well. Mo has regained much of his energy following the heart attack in October. Lois was cheery and generous as always. Doug's sister, Charis, came, and brought her good friend Andrea. They are both pastors. Then Doug and I completed the party.

The Oregon coast is beautiful and dramatic. We stayed at Worldmark in Seaside, and had an ocean view from our unit. The water was lapping around the historic turnaround there -- a concrete raised circle that touches the edge of the beach. Lois, who grew up in that area, said she has never seen the water so high. We walked along the promenade, played in the arcade, and ate very well from food we brought along and prepared in the full kitchen.

Andrea proved a great addition to the group. She was great to be around, interested and quick to lend a hand, generous and a lot of fun. We all told her she was welcome back. Her family is far away.

Everyone enjoyed the gift exchange. This year our rule was one gift from each to each. I was surprised and delighted to receive Absolute Sandman, vol. 1. The larger size and recoloring are gorgeous, and the stories are like old friends. I keep forgetting that these stories are horror. The gore, too, showed in greater detail. Yet there is a warmth and humanity -- after punishing Alex Burgess, Morpheus goes on to forgive Dee. Was he deliberately provoking Lyta Hall?

I'm only about half through the first volume. It will be hard to wait for the rest to come out in Absolute format. I'll likely reread the series from the graphic novels.

We will be at Mo and Lois' house for another week. Now that Christmas is over, my attention returns to the changes I am making in my life. How can I reach the people my life coaching can best serve? How do I do my work in the world, and receive the compensation that will let us live and continue our service? There are even harder questions: I feel our country has taken a wrong turn. Shall I lend my sway to restoring law and freedom? How?

The week between Christmas and New Year's often feels like found time to me. When the Christmas project is completed, and the New Year's projects are not yet ready to begin, there is a length of time ideal for planning changes. Shall I have new paths in 2007? How will we create income? What really is my most critical work to do in the world? How can I serve?

May you face your future with courage, and use this time of contemplation well.

Paradox World Journal

Hey!

We soon depart for Oregon for two weeks. We'll be spending the time with Doug's parents. Mostly in Portland, two nights on the Oregon Coast.

The Oregon Coast is known for dramatic weather. We should have a good chance to remind ourselves about rain and humidity. We seem to be forgetting pretty quickly.

I look forward to doing some shopping in Portland. It is still the best shopping city I have ever lived in. Low prices, great selection, no sales tax. Really a great place to shop, and since I'm not keen on carrying a lot of gifts on the airplane, I've delayed most of my Christmas shopping. This should be entertaining. Fortunately, I find something festive in large crowds of shoppers. Really looking forward to hitting Lloyd Center, which was my 'home' mall for seven years. I wonder how it has changed.

Maybe walk NW 23rd, or hit Saturday Market, or stroll the Alberta Art District. Just for old times' sake. And then there is the huge center of gravity that is Powell's books. Nothing makes a city feel like home more than a good used bookstore.

Las Cruces does have one. Coas' is very decent, especially considering how much smaller a population base it has to draw on than Powell's. And how many fewer rainy days there are here to inspire the locals to curl up at home with a book.

Life is good.

Happy holidays to all. I may skip another week as we travel. May the new year find you well and prospering.

Las Cruces Buses

Good morning!

We've been walking more recently. The repair on our car, originally estimated for 2 days has reliably been extended by a day each day for the last 4 business days. Of course the shop is closed on weekends.

I'm a little out of the habit of it. It's very easy to become accustomed to the seductive dinosaur-burners.

Las Cruces has an elegant bus system. It does almost everything necessary, at the minimum acceptable level. In return, the price is very low. There are eight or nine bus routes. Each is a one-way loop. I was confused, at first, because there would be bus stops on only one side of the street. Now I know -- it's because the buses only run on one side of the street. If you want to travel upstream on the loop, ride most of the way around it.

Fortunately, each loop is fairly short. Most of the buses running the various routes all start from the central transit station at the same time, every 40 minutes. They tour their loop, sometimes waiting at checkpoints to keep the time right, and often meeting another bus for transfers there. Then they return to the starting point, in somewhat less than 40 minutes, salute the other members of the herd, and on the mark, they start the loop again.

This makes transferring from any line that goes to the central transit area to another such easy. And you can transfer from any one to any other one just as easily.

The lines that don't come to the central transit station intersect at logical points, like the local mall.

My small experience with the buses so far has shown that they run on time. This is very good.

Running only every 40 minutes, and sometimes requiring riders to take circuitous, long way around paths, is not so good. But it does allow the system to cover a large portion of the city, regularly, with only one bus and one driver per route. That is very efficient. The exchanges are elegant.

All in all, it is a low cost public transit safety net. If you have time but not money, it will get you where you need to go at a low cost.

If you have money but not time, you are unlikely to want to use it. Observed ridership has been low on my small sample. Maybe I'll take a look at it during rush hour some time.

May you balance the costs and benefits of your purchases well.

Joyous Leftovers

This morning's breakfast consists of turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and mashed squash. Obviously, this is a post-Thanksgiving meal. All three of those veg are too starchy for Doug's low carb diet, so normally I don't have any of them in the house. But our good friends David and Susan sent us home with Thanksgiving leftovers, and I am enjoying them very much.

Turkey is almost gone. Today will be the last day. Dave brined it, following a three-day marination procedure, and the results were excellent. They also chose an organic turkey, and placed celery and sage and garlic in the cavity, and I've never had better.

David and Susan took very good care of us. We spent four nights at their place in Albuquerque, much talking and laughing and relaxing. I'm very thankful to have such good friends.

And I'm thankful for this breakfast!

May you take joy in the common gifts of life.

Preparing to be thankful

Well, I missed a week. Keeping quite busy. In fact, I overdid it a little, and crashed. Have to remember to schedule self-nourishment when working with time management systems.

Tomorrow, we head north to Albuquerque and spend the holiday with David and Susan and Kaitlyn. Every year, I appreciate Thanksgiving more. The whole concept, of taking time to give thanks, is nourishing to self and world.

It helps that we have been relaxing about exactly how we celebrate Thanksgiving. We all like turkey, so we do a turkey. Side dishes are fewer each year, and the whole idea of rushing to get things right diminishes each year, too. I like cooking in a turkey bag -- less planning ahead, more moisture left in the bird. David is brining one this year. I'll be interested to see how that turns out.

We're too far from home to gather with family this year. We've all sent each other messages. We know we are thinking of each other, and that's enough.

May you all have as simple or rich a celebration as you wish this year.

Contrary Brin

What a beautiful morning!

I believe the Bush administration is about to receive one of my most rigorous blessings: "May you receive a clear view of your own faults" -- and not a moment too soon.

The moral is: Embrace CITOKATE* before CITOKATE gets imposed on you.

I believe in science. That means that testing one's ideas against reality is necessary to progress. To cut off error detection by avoiding criticism is to start on a path to perdition even more direct than the one lined by good intentions.

*CITOKATE stands for: Criticism Is The Only Antidote To Error, as developed in the blog of David Brin, at Contrary Brin

I seem to have drifted to Wednesday morning. The next entry is also new since last Wednesday.

I am a Life Coach

Yesterday, we had our first follow-up call for the members of my Life Coach training group. Our facilitator, Kim Barber, pointed out that saying we were 'in training to be a Life Coach' is one of the ways we sabotage ourselves. All of us have the skills to coach, right now. She's seen them.

I admit, I have been a little skeptical that our training was sufficient. We had reading material and worksheets beforehand, and then a very intense three day seminar. But part of the reason we were there, is that we have all been coaching people all our lives. The training gave us more system to apply to what we already know, and the experience of having the tools used on us as well. It's all that's needed. That, and the ongoing work of finding the people we can best help, and making ourselves known so that they can find us.

If you are reading this, you know a lot about my history, and that I am a new Life Coach. Or I'm a newly official Life Coach. I AM a Life Coach. I am newly making my skill available for hire. And I have new techniques from my NorthStar training. I am, right now, a Life Coach, and in many ways, I always have been.

Thursday, I was talking to Tommy Angelo on the phone. It is my very great privilege that he has been a coaching mentor to me. He lists himself as a poker coach, and he approaches every game as part of a client's life, so he is effectively a Life Coach who approaches life through poker. If you are serious about poker, I recommend hiring him immediately at tommyangelo.com.

Anyway, I was talking to Tommy, and we were talking about coaching, and I said I had been somewhat catalytic in people's lives now and then. And he said, "Uhuh, yeah, right," normal moving a conversation along sounds, nothing unusual here, and then, hairpin voice turn, he said, "OBVIOUSLY! Absolutely! Of course you have!" Like 'What are you freaking talking about, understating your abilities like that!!!!' It was one of the most classic voice tone double-takes I've ever heard.

Thanks, Tommy. It was a good time for me to hear that.

If you have been reading this blog, you also know the changes I've gone through, and how I have handled them. You know that I am not perfect, and that I keep trying to become more truthful and compassionate. There's my evidence, in public. I am a Life Coach.

My professional site is: annaparadox.com.

May you all acknowlege and use your strengths. The world needs you.

I'm late, I'm late

This week went by like lightning. Mo continues to recover. Doug had some follow-up to the X-Prize to do, and then a lot of missed homework to catch up on. He returned from being with his father on Wednesday. I was really glad to see him.

Last night I was drooping a little at the end of the day. I've been busily doing my Life Coach homework every day. The stated assignment is to spend at least ten minutes a day in some activity that advances my practice, plus speak to one stranger about Life Coaching. I've generally been overshooting, of course. So, I was tired early, and I started to wonder why. Then I thought, oh, yeah, only a few days ago, I was utterly exhausted. This is not so bad. Nor so unexpected.

Also have two editing clients now. Both are good company and good writers, so I'm enjoying the work immensely. Excellent sign! It does absorb my attention and my time. I keep looking up and thinking, oh, right, lunch is a couple hours overdue.

Of course the biggest relief is that Mo is home and doing well. The doctors said his heart was shocked. It will take time to recover his stamina, and even to know how much of his capacity will return. He's making some lifestyle changes, always a challenge. But he has lots of support, and a strong will.

May you have the support you need when you need it.

My Life Coach training completed last weekend. It was intense. I have effective tools for fast change now. And I know what it is like to have them used on me.

Then, when I came out of class, and turned on my cell phone Sunday night, I discovered that Doug's father had had a heart attack. Shortly after attending his father's funeral, Mo went to the hospital with unexplained pain. They tested him twice, found nothing, though the doctor felt something wasn't quite right. Mo was preparing to leave when he had a heart attack, in the hospital. No better place for it.

He's doing very well. They expected to release him today. Doug flew to be with his family -- was already on his way before I knew it had happened. I was really glad that our friend David was visiting, and helped and supported Doug through the news and with getting to the airport. Good friends.

On the way home on Monday, I was involved in a small fender bender when a car stopped suddenly in front of me on the freeway. The car in front of me hit the car in front of it. I hit the one in front of me when I was unable to stop in time. No one hurt, plenty of time spent on the police report and speaking to insurance companies.

Yesterday I slept a lot. Blogging totally slipped my mind. I think missing that deadline, like being involved in the accident, is one more thing I'm going to give myself a pass on. Yes, possibly I could have done better, given more foresight. And also yes, I did well enough. So there we are.

I know the life coaching is the work I was meant to do. I love the work, and I love helping people to discover and become their best selves. Much more information is available at my website. See: www.annaparadox.com

If change was easy, we'd already be doing it. Stagnation is easy, and it also binds us. Freedom takes movement, even through difficulties.

So this week I wish you the courage to follow your dreams.

Busy Week

Hello, it's Tuesday. This week has gone very quickly. Doug has work, around his classes, helping to set up the computer network for the X-Prize Cup. I've had editing and more web work and more preparing the house to hold a home office. We seem much busier than we were just a couple weeks ago.

Doug is really grooving on the airport where he's been at work. It's a small municipal airport, and the people there really focus on flying. Balloons, airplanes, rockets -- we've had a flight theme running here recently. The earliest balloon flights date to the 1800's, the earliest airplanes were early in the 1900's. What a long way we've come.

I had my first experience proofing pages. Julie Czerneda sent me PDF pages for my story Shining Field, appearing in her anthology Polaris next year. That has to improve on sending physical pages back and forth. She has been great to work with. Very friendly and helpful. I had already enjoyed her writing. It's nice to enjoy her editing, too.

Thursday I leave for my in-person training. So this week is bound to go quickly, too. I'm liking being busier. It makes a nice change. Would it make a good lifestyle? I will have to see.

Up For Poker Blog

I highly recommend this article: Prohibition

Please take a look.

Calmer now

Doug said he could tell I was angry last week. I even left in a couple typos. Definitely out-of-character.

Feeling better now. Had more time with the subject. And, as further analyses come in, it appears that the legislation will make less difference. The most interesting effect has been that the publicly traded online poker services have been pulling out of the US market. The privately held ones have been remaining and assuring their customers of the safety of their money. Already some migration of players has shown in weekend traffic.

I've pulled my money out. I had other major projects going on, and was already considering leaving. I have poker topics I still want to turn into articles, and some articles already written. I don't know at what point I'll feel my material is too out of date to continue writing about poker, or if I will return to playing later. A lot will depend on how my other current games play out.

I've started distributing cards for www.dininglascruces.com. A few of the professional site cards have gone out, but largely as curiosities rather than advertising. My in-person training is getting close. I have worked and reworked the correspondance training items. Looked for other useful sources, and read additional material. Brainstormed a business plan and mentally rehearsed Life Coaching sessions. I'm as prepared as my will and available time can make me now.

At least until I think of something else to try.

A week from Thursday, I head for the in-person intensive. Then the time for preparation will be over.

Meanwhile, impelled by my anger about the poker restrictions, I took a closer look at some of the bills passed by the current legislature. By Amnesty International's accounting, the USA is now in violation of international law regarding the treatment of prisoners. Remember all those movies where the American heroes protest that their evil captors are breaking the Geneva Conventions? Well, it's now the US that has passed a law saying we won't follow the Geneva Convention if the president thinks we have a good reason not to.

I do not like having the government that supposedly represents me abridging human rights. At this point, our own government is creating more human misery and more fear than the terrorists they claim they are trying to protect us from.

I'm taking my first action, which is to complain in public. I will vote of course. And other actions -- as I find them.

May you have the courage to act for what you believe is right. I wish you this, even if we disagree on what that right may be.

Angry

I'm really rather angry about having my ability to play online poker restricted. Last night, Senate majority leader Frist attached language making it illegal for US Banks to send money to online gambling sites to a port security bill. Since this is a Homeland security issue, Bush is almost certain to sign it into law.

It was a backhanded, last minute way to slip a new law through. Very end of the session, late at night.

I'm confused. Weren't the Republicans supposed to stand for more freedom? Where's my freedom to engage in mental contest by the free choice of all involved?

Weren't the Republicans supposed to stand for less government? Why are they pushing this regulation that will require new oversight bodies, vast additional paperwork from banks, and entire new ways of observing the actions of American citizens? Just to make sure we don't spend our money playing online poker? So, to protect you from online gambling, you'd like your government to track all your financial transactions?

OK, I've been angry about plenty the government has done recently. But this feels personal. It hits what I do with my free time, every week. It comes right into my house and interferes with my liesure and a tiny bit of my income.

And there are one hundred thousand other poker players who cared enough about this to join the Poker Players Alliance.

What I hope is that this, and all the other ways the current administration has been showing that it doesn't represent us, the people, will finally be enough for voters. And that the polls will resoundingly give at least one house back to the Democrats. Because this administration needs brakes and accountability.

Because I'm still hoping the system works. That voting can make a difference. That the opinion of the people still counts in this country.

Because if it takes more than voting to get our government to be OUR government again, it is going to be a lot more trouble.

A week of webbing

Is it true that one week ago I had never heard of WordPress? Wow. Now I have two sites well under development. Many little steps taken toward building the restaurant review site and the life coaching site. Restaurant reviews are ready for public access at www.dininglascruces.com. The life coaching site will only go live after my training. I am enjoying playing with it, and it will be good to have it almost there upon my return.

The in-person part of my training is less than a month away now, and I am really looking forward to it. Doug keeps asking me if I want to volunteer at the X-Prize Cup, and I keep saying 'I'm busy'. Then we giggle. My training and his space event overlap on the calendar. It's really fantastic that we both get to advance our dreams next month. Our good friend David is coming down to give Doug company and support for the event. I'm taking a room in the highly luxe resort for the training. We'll both be richly sustained.

It has been rewarding to work the images and colors for the websites. When the colors and fonts come right, I feel bubbly satisfaction. It does tire me more than usual to continue to focus on how things look. It's not my favorite mode of grappling with the world. I feel all the happier to get back to words after the change of mode.

It's a good idea for me to get away from the computer screen in general. The weather has been beautiful recently. It's starting to cool. On September 21, I was walking to campus, and I felt a cool breeze. Instantly I thought that feels like Fall. Yup, right on time.

May you all find your projects coming together.

A week of web design

Is it true that one week ago I had never heard of WordPress? Wow. Now I have two sites well under development. Many little steps taken toward building the restaurant review site and the life coaching site. Restaurant reviews are ready for public access at www.dininglascruces.com. The life coaching site will only go live after my training. I am enjoying playing with it, and it will be good to have it almost there upon my return.

The in-person part of my training is less than a month away now, and I am really looking forward to it. Doug keeps asking me if I want to volunteer at the X-Prize Cup, and I keep saying 'I'm busy'. Then we giggle. My training and his space event overlap on the calendar. It's really fantastic that we both get to advance our dreams next month. Our good friend David is coming down to give Doug company and support for the event. I'm taking a room in the highly luxe resort for the training. We'll both be richly sustained.

It has been rewarding to work the images and colors for the websites. When the colors and fonts come right, I feel bubbly satisfaction. It does tire me more than usual to continue to focus on how things look. It's not my favorite mode of grappling with the world. I feel all the happier to get back to words after the change of mode.

It's a good idea for me to get away from the computer screen in general. The weather has been beautiful recently. It's starting to cool. On September 21, I was walking to campus, and I felt a cool breeze. Instantly I thought that feels like Fall. Yup, right on time.

May you all find your projects coming together.

Changes Afoot

Changes Afoot

Web changes are on the way. I've spent a lot of the last week looking into hosting and web design. I'll likely move this blog to a paid host within a few weeks. I'll redirect and post links at that time.

It's amazing how much time searching for a good template, or even a good template idea can absorb. I really enjoyed it. Kept being startled by the darkening of the evening sky. Not too many things let me lose track of time.

The other large absorber of my mindshare has been editing for Tommy Angelo. Take a look at Tommy's poker article archive and scroll to the bottom of the left column. I've been working with him since the beginning of 2006, and having a great time with it. He just finished his most ambitious article yet, Reciprocality, and it should be posting to pokerpages soon.

All of which has left little time for poker! It's a curious state, to be engaged in working with writing about poker, and yet seldom play. When I have played, the large intervals since my previous sessions have left me feeling unfocused and not at my best. Since it's far more fun to play well (and win, variance allowing), I have been thinking a bit about my meta-game. I'm not sure yet how to arrange my approach to poker to arrive at better results. Thinking about it is a good first step!

Meanwhile, if you are having poker difficulties, and you are serious about your game, I strongly recommend you talk to Tommy. Go to tiltless.com and find out about his program.

Now I have business cards to design and websites to plot.

May you enjoy your work.

Body, image

Body, image

We ate tonight at a new restaurant that had a full wall of mirror in the dining room. I haven't had a full length mirror to reflect in since we came to Las Cruces. As usual, I'd forgotten how solid my torso is.

I measure 42-38-42. Some ways off the designated 'ideal'. I do have trouble finding pants that fit well.

What I saw was not fat, but armor. Here's the layer covering my abdomen, shielding from the knife that has twice sliced from navel to bikini line. Here's the padding to cushion the impact next time my car gets rear ended. Here's this much distance from the cruelty of the world.

I live, as best I can, open to the world. Optimistic and ready to engage. Or so I thought. But here I saw, some part of me wants walls and protections. Some part of me is blocking and shielding and coating me in fear.

I've never dieted. My body stabilizes well, maintaining the same weight except under exceptional stress. I stayed, without effort, at the same weight for five years before that little car accident, then gained ten pounds, and have stayed there for the last four. The other period when I first went over my 'ideal' weight saw our family farm go bankrupt, my brother killed in a car accident, and more -- how can I see these pounds with anything but compassion?

Of course, I would like to be healthier. That is a separate issue.

All in all, I could only think kindly of that shape in the mirror. Yes, she's heavier than ideal. Yes, I could work on that. And yes, that's me and my history, my flesh, my choices.

Doug, bless him, said I looked great.

I think acceptance first, and change as it comes.

And may you all come to peace with your bodies.

Happy Tuesday!

Happy Tuesday!

Doug is due in class in an hour and a half. He has his first graded quiz today.

School is agreeing with him. He keeps saying things like "Whoa! I can do that on the way home from school!" and "I love this calculator!". All the signs are good.

This morning, we hope to catch breakfast at ChaChi's, which has become our neighborhood restaurant. Their menu is largely Mexican, with some nods to American style breakfasts. The waitresses are recognizing us now -- good food, good service, good prices, cheerful ambience. It's really everything you want in a neighborhood cafe. Easy walking distance from our doorstep, right along Doug's path to class, too.

This is part of my new 'update blog on Tuesdays' initiative. Our much anticipated web comic, Girl Genius updates at Midnight EDT Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday on the dot and without fail -- the Foglios must use some sort of automated posting software. Eventually, I will investigate and get myself one of those. Until then, 'updating on Tuesdays' means that some time between Monday afternoon and Tuesday evening, I will add a post. You can think of that as updating on Wednesdays, if you like.

May still post outside that period as well, when taken by inspiration. But you know how it goes -- when it comes to production by inspiration versus production by persistence, persistence wins about 9 to 1.

We took no particular notice of Labor Day weekend. Doug has class Tuesdays and Thursdays, so a four day weekend is part of our lifestyle now. Ah, we are living so well! Now to get some income to sustain our dolce vita!

As usual, September, with classes starting and temperatures cooling feels like potential and new beginnings to me. A better time to start new projects than January. And we certainly are!

May Fall bring you renewal, too.

Anna

Exciting Times

Doug's first day of class went well.

Whoa! you say! Since when is Doug is school?!!!!

Good question. It all happened so fast. One day, NMSU, the University half a mile from our new home, announces a new Aeronautics Engineering degree. Doug discovers it, calls the college -- two weeks later he's enrolled, and Thursday August 24th -- surely a day that will live in perpetuity -- he took his first classes. My beloved husband is going to be a Rocket Scientist. I like it.

Do you know how often people say, "It isn't rocket science." I run into it about four times a week. I laugh.

Meanwhile, I have undertaken training as a Life Coach under Martha Beck. See her website here. I read an article by her, then a book, in June. In July, I read more articles and a second book, and decided I had to get in the training program. In early August, I took one of her seminars, and could verify in person that all I'd gathered from the reading held true, and this course absolutely resonated with my essential desires. I completed application to the program, and am doing the written preparatory work to the in-person training in October. I've never discovered a possible line of work that rang so right with me before. I want this very much, and I've been taking every step I can think of to see that it happens.

Like I said to Doug, I love that we are becoming the kind of people who reinvent themselves.

And so the leap we took in moving to Las Cruces progresses.

I know that these career paths are both the truest we have ever been to ourselves, and the ways we can best serve others. I am very thankful that we have had the courage and the guidance to reach this place.

And so I wish it for you: May you have the courage to do the work that fills your heart and best serves the world.

Anna

Group Nakedness

Group Nakedness

Check this out: From Cardplayer online:

195 Show Up To Paddy Power Strip Poker Tournament
John Young Wins and Bares More for Poker Charity

One day, many years from now, John Young will sit down and amaze his grandchildren when he tells them he once won the world’s largest strip poker tournament.

Young, of Slough, England, beat out 194 other hopefuls at the Paddy Power World Strip Poker Championships that was held at London’s Cafe Royal Saturday to walk away with £10,000, a specially commissioned Golden Fig Leaf trophy, and entry to the Paddy Power Irish Open where up to £2 million will be up for grabs.

In addition, Paddy Power promised to donate a further £10,000 to the charity of the winner’s choice, Cancer Research, after John, who was the last of the players to have any clothes, revealed all to the crowd.

The tournament kicked off at 1 p.m. as 195 hopefuls from more than 12 countries set out to keep their clothes on and carve themselves a place in history as part of a new official Guinness world record for the biggest strip poker tournament ever.

The event had originally been an April Fool’s story by Paddy Power earlier this year but, after receiving requests from all over the world to take part, the bookie decided to run the tournament for real.

Each player was given five items of clothing which they used to buy chips. As they lost their chips, they cashed in their clothes for more. Some even opted to strip from the bottom up and sat playing naked except for a cap.

The tournament may become a yearly thing.

OK, look at this. 195 people wanted the opportunity to play poker in public and lose their clothes. It was guaranteed that to have the best chance to win you would have to strip. And everyone but the winner would lose all their clothes -- that is how a poker tournament works. Then the winner took off his remaining garments for charity.

At least 195 people think differently about public nudity than we are taught.

195, that's quite a few.

Worth considering, next time the temptation comes to think people are all alike.

May you cherish your uniqueness.

Anna

5 am events

5 am events

"Doug," I say, "I smell skunk. That means one of two things, and one of them is very bad."

"I was dreaming someone was using a lighter," he says. We stumble out of bed, no lights, I put on my bathrobe and go smelling around. Doug turns off the cooling system.

The smell is strongest in our bedroom and in the laundry room by the furnace. Doug finds a flashlight, and by its light I search the phone book.

I tell the woman who answers, "I smell skunk. It's strongest near the furnace."

"I don't know what we can do about that," she says.

I stop. What? "Ummm, doesn't leaking gas smell like skunk?"

"Oh no," she says. "We use ------." My sleep-fogged brain does not catch the name. "It's a very strong smell, a very bad smell, and very distinct."

"Not skunk?"

"No, ------. It's very distinctive. We can still send someone out if you want us to check."

"Let me check with my husband."

I report that they don't use skunk. He reports that the smell seems to be dissipating and he doesn't hear any hissing.

"I think we are OK," I say.

"The skunk is a very humble creature," she says. "But when it dies, everyone knows. Do you live in the country?"

"In town." I describe my neighborhood.

"I know where that is," she says. "The skunks go everywhere. Especially after a rain. And especially in the country. Call us back if you want us to send someone out."

"I will," I say. I smile, and let it reach my voice. "Thank you very much."

Europe!

Our Europe trip was amazing! We started with a single night in London. I went down to Gutshot, the poker club whose website publishes my articles. (See my article archive - here ). The manager, Jim, made us very welcome. I'm glad to report that the food, beer and atmosphere are all excellent. I tried a little pot limit Hold'em, which is their most popular game. Mostly folded everything, just watching how it was different from the limit Hold'em I usually play. Interesting.

Then off to Barnsdale Country Club, where Mom had exchanged her timeshare for a week's lodging for six. Doug's parents, Mo and Lois, joined Doug and me and Mom and Larry there. The guidebooks say this is one of the less interesting parts of England. Well, all of England must be fascinating then! There were five tourable castles within 10 miles. Plus a lake, a nationally famous garden, loads of great pubs, bird watching and more. Mom went to all the castles, Doug and I satisfied ourselves with one. And we toured the Barnsdale Gardens -- beautiful, divided into little sections on a human scale. Geoff Hamilton, who had a tv show in Britain, designed much of it. Doug's distant Welsh cousins Ernie and Sheila came up to the country club, took a room for two nights -- we were very glad to get to see them -- and wanted especially to tour the gardens. They watched Geoff every week, approved of the way he was willing to get his hands dirty. Old Geoff's been gone ten years, but his garden lives on.

Then on to Finland! That was more restful, and by that time, we needed it! Mo and Lois remained in England. Mom and Larry and Doug and I flew to Helsinki, and then drove to the resort she had reserved there -- the Hannunkivi Holiday Honka. First we drove west into the Sunset. Many lakes, low rolling hills covered in pines and birches rising above them, stylish modern buildings in the cities, some very graceful bridges. Then we drove north into the sunset, which was a bit disorienting! The sun went below the horizon for only an hour or two while we were there. It was never truly dark. We rolled into our cabin at 11 pm, and it looked like 8, still light, out. It was a strange, floating feeling.

Our cabin had a sauna, and was by a lake. The cupboard above the sink had a mesh floor, so you could put dishes there to drain and dry. The staff was extremely friendly and helpful. We enjoyed slowing down, trying the boats on the lake, walking into town. Generally a somewhat more luxurious form of camping.

One thing that interested me was that there seemed to be no fear of theft there. The resort left our room unlocked for us, and had paddleboats and rowboats sitting by the docks into the lake, for anyone to use. There were life jackets and darts and bikes, all unlocked, outside and freely available. It was only a mile's walk into town, where the library loaned Mom a copy of _The Old Man and the Sea_ on her signature, without asking for ID. Yes, we were somewhat out in the country. Still, what does it mean that people are so confident of each other there?

Our train from Helsinki left early Saturday morning. So we went into Helsinki a day before our reservation at Hannunkivi ended, and stayed one night there. We had time to take a walking tour and get a traditional Finnish meal. Hmmm, it appears their tradition is meat and potatoes. :-) Helsinki felt a bit like Portland or San Francisco, very clean, modern, great street market and parks, gorgeous Cathedrals and public buildings. The harbor had a mix of boats -- huge ferries and cruise ships, yachts, personal motorboats, and sailing ships, some with wooden hulls. Very cool. Wish I'd had time to shop, the stores looked great.

Then by train to St. Petersburg! That was by far the most intense part of our trip. The streets are hustling, the buildings are huge and most have decorative sculpture or columns, there are parks and monuments, an onion dome cathedral, canals and a major river. We took a walking tour our first night, and went into the Church of the Spilled Blood -- with the onion domes -- and the Hermitage art museum our second day. Our last morning, we just took our time getting ready to fly again. We had fantastic rooms at a B & B, hosted by the incredibly knowlegeable, gracious and English-speaking Natalya. I recommend the Assembly B & B in St. Petersburg highly. She taught us to drink vodka the Russian way. That's worth another story another day!

All in all, it was an amazing trip! And now we are glad to be home again.

May you all have the adventures that add savor to returning home.

Cook Locally

Cook locally

We took a little time out last week to play tourist in our new home region. We had a local Visitor's guide, and followed one of the day trips in in. Drove over to Mesilla, the Mission era town on the edge of Las Cruces. Once Mesilla and Las Cruces were separated by the Rio Grande and the border between the US and Mexico. Then the river moved. Mesilla retains a lot of colonial Spanish flavor, with an attractive cathedral on the town plaza, and Mission style architecture around it.

Then we drove down to Stahneman's. They have 180,000 thousand acres of Pecan trees. We had just missed the tasting tour. The drive between the orchards is very gracious, especially where the pecan trees have grown to stretch arching branches across the road, in a fashion I usually expect from elms. Stahneman's has a spacious gift shop -- selling pecan gift tins, specialty foods, candy, ice cream, kitchen accessories and cookbooks. We browsed for some time. Naturally the cookbooks took a fair portion of my attention. Only a few days before, I'd said I wanted local recipes so we could start taking more advantage of the local ingredients. I settled on _The Aficionado's Southwestern Cooking_ by Ronald Johnson. It seems to be a classic, and I liked the way he talked about ways to vary the recipes. No photos, friendly attitude, solid food.

So, last night we followed his recipe to make Green Sauce. This may be the most New Mexican of New Mexican foods. We are only 80 miles from Hatch, the Green Chile capitol of the world. And the state question of New Mexico is 'Red or Green?' -- meaning, which color of chile sauce would you like on your dinner? (Of course you want chile sauce on your dinner, what are you thinking?!) When we crossed the border to New Mexico on our second trip here, and discovered that the convenience store offered green chili for the nachos, Doug said, "Ah! I'm home!" So of course Green sauce is where we started our New Mexico style cooking.

We had found frozen green chile purée at Costco in Albuquerque -- I'm sure they've never carried it in Oregon -- so of course we had to quadruple the recipe to match the volume of chiles. Costco, you know. So we had enough to simmer two and a half pounds of cubed and browned pork, plus some to use as salsa and several more packages to freeze. It was labelled 'Hot' and is it ever! The pork chili verde was excellent! Made a very nice dinner with broccoli and refried beans.

Other local specialties are pecans and honey. We've eaten a lot of pecans since arriving. I'll be looking for recipes for them. And there are lots of fruits and vegetables grown locally.

In fact, there's a farmer's market this morning, and I think I'll go.

Counter Change

Counter Change

Right now, my counter is making me very happy.

We have a beautiful kitchen. The previous owners revamped it. The cupboard doors are hunter green, the counters, edges of the cupboards and door pulls are medium oak. They made a lovely backsplash of small green tiles bordered by oak trim, and covered the wall behind the sink in a pattern of stone tiles exactly to my taste. Mostly squares, a few diagonal seams -- just enough variation for interest without so much as to become gaudy.

One particularly gorgeous feature is the piecing of the oak boards in the corner. The boards run from the edge to the backsplash along all straight sections of counters. There is one corner. They meticulously fanned triangular pieces of oak to create an even and gorgeous transition from one facing of the strips to the next.

Now that Doug has repaired the under the cupboard lights, the whole counter glows in home magazine fashion. It really looks like a designer kitchen, photo-worthy, rich.

Using the kitchen instead of looking at it revealed a few problems. The space allowed at the end of one counter, where the water line to hook to an internal icemaker suggested we should put our refrigerator -- is actually too small to place any standard refrigerator, if you want to actually open the doors wide enough to open the drawers. The dishwasher is an inconvenient three steps distant from the sink. And, most ungracious of all -- the gorgeous wooden countertops were not waterproof! In the time between when we first saw the home, and when we took possession after closing, the area around the sink had darkened and waterspotted. Boards had separated from their neighbors and the gap had been filled with wood putty. The whole counter had aged, in a matter of weeks.

It's amazing how awkward it feels to work in a kitchen where you dare not get water on the counter. Every standard kitchen task becomes more complex.

Three days ago, I refinished a section of the counter. Sand, coat with polyacrylic, wait three hours, repeat. To a total of three coats, with a final sanding.

It's not perfect. I preserved some flaws too deep to be sanded out, and one section of the finish has a little pebbling. Yet that counter glows. I can fill a glass on it, without hyperattention to not spilling any. I can wipe it with a wet cloth, no harm done. I'm free.

So I'm now very happy about being able to do with a counter things that before I moved, I took for granted for counters.

That's the way it goes. We're often more appreciative of an improvement, than of the many blessings we're accustomed to.

I don't know how long I'll continue to be happy every time I wipe the newly refinished counter with a wet cloth. Most likely, in time, I'll forget how wonderful that seems to me now. But do I have to? Could I remember?

May you see one of your current blessings with fresh eyes.

Stuff

Stuff

My last post will have informed the alert reader (Hi, Doug!) that we have arrived in Las Cruces. Yes, we have been here since April 27th, and our stuff arrived in the truck on May 3rd. Time has just been flying. There is so much to do. Unpacking, small home improvements and repairs, learning where all the services of Las Cruces can be found, and adapting to local usages.

I love it here! There's so much more diversity and life than in Bend. Birds sing before and after dawn, there are all these new plants about. We are close to campus, and we've seen many shades of skin, a full spectrum of choices and styles. The food is great, too!

We've made very good progress on adapting this house to our ease, and placing our stuff within it. The spaces are different than our last house, of course. I noticed an awkwardness before we had enough tools about. I missed having writing tools at hand, bookmarks ready to mark my page, my address book -- the little conveniences that let me do the everyday tasks of my life easily. As we started unpacking our boxes, and placing these and similar things about for use, I began to feel more and more powerful. Simple powers -- like the ability to write a grocery list -- add up to a lot of leverage on the world. I've been very happy to regain those abilities.

So, for a while, every box we opened and distributed increased my power.

Then we hit a point where the next box was more likely to be a nuisance than a help. There are a few very useful things in most boxes -- and as we go on, more and more of the stuff seems burdensome and irrelevant. I have to find a place to put it, it doesn't add any new abilities to my life, it may be only very occasionally useful, and it clutters the clean lines of sight throughout the house. We hit the point of diminishing returns.

Of course, we ended up packing more stuff than ideal. At several points, we had helpers in who packed without trimming. And I reached a point where it was easier to pack an item than to make a decision about it. So there was a small amount of stuff that I knew, even in Bend, that I didn't need to bring.

We've discovered more that seems irrelevant to our new life as we learn about the climate and our inclinations here. Some things, like the turtlenecks, are seeming blatantly useless here. Others more subtly so. So, likely more trimming of possessions to come.

I want to remember that point of diminishing returns -- how I felt as unpacking changed from adding to my life to burdening it. Ideally, I'd like my level of stuff to create that maximumly powerful point all the time. Where does stuff stop adding to my abilities and start being a drain on my time and energy? Can I get rid of all the stuff beyond that point? Now there is a good question.

Ideals are meant to be imagined, not reached. I'll move toward this one, as I can, and enjoy where I am anyway. And then there is the organizing of the stuff, for ease and convenience -- and that too works better when there is less stuff to organize.

So on I go.

May you move ever closer to the ideal level of possessions.

New Sand Garden

Today we walked down to get breakfast. Along the way, we wished our neighbors a good morning, admired the blooming cactus -- fruit of Monday's cloudburst.

Great breakfast.

Walking home, Doug stopped to admire a rock wall. The builder of it said we could have what we wanted of the leftover rocks. Back we went, with handtruck and gloves. I chose, and Doug and Mo, his father, loaded one rock onto the handtruck. Mo wheeled it home, and placed it as I wished, patient with my small adjustments until I had it right. Now my sand garden has its three foci. Telephone junction box, birdbath, stone.

Doug and Mo went off to another project, and I had my garden to myself. I took the sand rake -- left by the previous owners -- and smoothed and molded around my foci. The birdbath needed a slight adjustment. I made it, and leveled it again. One side of the rake smooths and moves, the other makes inch-wide furrows and pulls debris out of the sand. First, the smooth side to make good contours. Then the pegged side to remove the fallen leaves. Then the pegged side again, to make pretty patterns in the sand.

I could see where I lost focus. Small wiggles, or gaps in the minifurrows. A little touch-up, and then the acceptance of it, as it is.

Soon I will place a bench, sheltered beside the shed and facing the sand garden. Then I can sit there. Just for me.

Acts of Faith

Acts of Faith

We are about to move 1500 miles. Lightening up is a good idea. There will be no making a second trip to gather the items we couldn't quite fit in the first time.

We have a lot of stuff. Last time, we used U-Haul's largest truck, plus two runs with my stepfather's trailer. We've bought some additional furniture and stuff in the five years since then. Pruning is ongoing.

We trimmed a little more than ten percent of our library. We're pretty much keeping the entire rock collection. We took a few cubic feet out of the games collection. And I'm letting go of twice as much volume from my cloth stash.

The mover's video instructions suggest tossing all cleaning supplies and pantry items. Can I really do that?

I see that I've been using stuff as a safety net. The pantry represents this much margin between me and hunger. The cleaning supplies, a bank of resources to avoid squalor even when broke. More t-shirts than I can wear in a month -- that much insurance against going cold and naked. Unread magazines -- that much barrier between me and boredom -- which is what? The fear that I can't face my own thoughts without distraction?

We once went to a museum in the Welsh countryside that recreated typical homes from pre-literate, medieval, and 1650, 1750, 1850 and 1950 eras. You could see the stuff swell hugely for 1950, kitsch and radio and home decor and utensils of vast variety and color -- enough to choke on. I liked the sparsity of 1750. One table. One chair, one plate, per family member. Of course, this one bed per family arrangement needs to go. And there is a lot to be said for keeping the livestock in a separate building.

The old paradigm -- the old proverb -- 'Waste not, want not' -- dates to that time. And it still has its applications. Still, could they have imagined receiving by post, for free, enough paper each week to light each morning's fires? Would they have recoiled, shouting 'Sin!' at a catalog offering seventy-four different swimsuits? And what would they have done with a collected stack of twenty AOL discs?

Really, this stuff has to go. I need my irreplaceable time and the energy it would take to track and move all this for better things.

And so, into the trash with every frayed towel and stained t-shirt. Send the fresh, durable pantry items to the Food Bank, and let go of the past-its-use-by-date dressing mix. Toss the last half cup of flour. I can do this.

And every discard is an act of faith -- faith that I will have what I need, when I need it. Faith that I have the resources to feed myself and clothe myself and face time without props. Faith that everything will be OK.

May you find your safety in yourself rather than your possessions.

Using Things Up

For a while, I've known we were moving. It becomes more concrete every day. We spent March 12th through 18th driving to Las Cruces, choosing a home and making an offer on it, waiting for the offer's acceptance, and driving home again. We've accepted an offer on our home. It was listed for only 2 weeks.

So, now, if all continues to go well, we close on the home here in Bend on April 24th, drive ourselves and our cats to Las Cruces, and close on the home there on April 27th. Meanwhile, a hired truck brings all our stuff behind us, and we'll be able to unload it directly into the new place. That's just the way I wanted it.

We could still hit some snags. Not for lack of anything I could have done. I've played this hand beautifully, and if the cards end up falling against me later -- that's just the way it goes. Contigencies -- there is always something that can be done.

So, in the meanwhile, there is no point in moving more consumables than we have to. I've been cooking down the pantry. Emptying the freezer of the packages from the whole beef we bought. Making do with fewer than the usual number of shampoos, as one bottle after another goes empty, and is not replaced.

And as we pack things up, we have more space, more room to move. I'm not quite ready to let go of all our stuff. I begin to see, a little, how having less stuff could be a pleasure. Something for one of these days.

Plans and shifts. I'm really looking forward to this move, and I'm enjoying what I'm learning getting ready for it.

May your life bring you exactly what you need.

Anna

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Time for a confession. I'm postmodern.

I spent years not even knowing what postmodern meant. That was pretty postmodern in and of itself. In fact, I still may not know. Well, that's one of the things about it. Not knowing is essential to being postmodern.

It isn't entirely despair. Like we had optimistic and pessimistic existentialists -- assuming I understood them correctly, which may be too much to claim -- there is actually a bright side to postmodernism. When you're willing to take everything apart, you create room for tolerance.

And that's how I really know I'm postmodern. I've taken myself apart. Deconstructed. Looked at the foundations of the foundations, and discovered that's really no there there. I've done it, every so often, all my life.

It's not the most fun part of being postmodern. There's a lot more play in the return of humor to philosophical discourse, self-referentialism, the conscious collaging of separate pieces. However, deconstruction is the heart of postmodernism. Once the foundation reveals itself as emptiness, a huge weight disappears. Of course there is humor -- huge structures from emptiness is funny. Of course we refer to ourselves -- there's nothing more solid to call upon. Of course we gather bits from everywhere, and use them again -- with no foundation to rise from, we must gather sideways instead.

Tomorrow I may reconstruct myself. Regain a sense of self, have faith in something I can put my feet on. Believe that truth is obtainable, put myself in service to a cause, work for the better tomorrow that is the great modern promise. In fact, I'm sure I will. I always have before.

And there is something that chooses -- something that remains, nameless and unknown, yet a seed that recreates. I don't know what it is. Each time, it pulls some me together again.

That, and that, will take me through today. Though now I feel low and lost, eventually -- eventually I will be again.

Mornings

Recently, my sleep pattern has changed. I find I only need six hours. I'm crediting it to the Holosync. It might just be maturity.

This morning, I am at my brother and sister-in-law's home in Winnemucca. They both rose early, went out for coffee. Doug lies abed, getting his beauty sleep -- and it must work, he's very attractive! And I am thinking about early mornings I have known.

My sister rises early too. Genetics, or a legacy of youthful farm labor?

Because, this, to me, was the archetypical farming morning:

Dad would call through the bedroom door, and I'd roll out of bet, dress with jeans, button front shirt, hat and tennis shoes. We'd be out the front door, and into the pickup, ten minutes later. Another ten minutes to drive to the farm, sun rising over the hills, air fresh and moist. Then my sister and I would take Grandpa's pickup out to the out to the fields.

We moved irrigation lines. The wheel lines were easy. Disconnect the four inch diameter hoses from the side line, start the motor in the center of the field with the pull rope, walk behind as the pipes rolled about ten yards beyond the limit of wet soil. Reconnect the hose at the new location. Start the timer. Check that all the sprinklers opened up as they should. Next field.

The intermediate wheatgrass, though, was too tall for the wheel lines. Rolling along would have broken the tops off the stalks, scattered the seed that was the most profitable fruit of the field. So we had hand lines. Again, disconnect from the sideline. We practiced, and we could lift the twenty foot segment from the center, press it toward the next segment, and twist it just so, releasing the catch and freeing it. Then lift the pipe overhead to clear the stalks, and march it to its new location, wet wheatgrass brushing against our clothes in the mosquito-laden dawn.

Reassemble. Reattach. Timer. Check for trouble. At last, drive back to the house.

Where Grandma cooked hamburger patties and toast, cottage cheese and sliced tomatoes. And we could visit until our clothes dried, and it was time to go hoe or hay.

Dangerous Oatmeal

I like to take a few chances.

One is pursuing the perfect bowl of oatmeal at high speed.

Microwave oatmeal is break-dancing on an antenna. First steps involve a lot of falling. A lot of boil-overs and graceless flailing. I looked deep into the heart and oatmeal, and found this is what it needed: a larger bowl.

So, I make my morning oatmeal like this: two teaspoons of sunflower seeds, one slice of candied ginger, diced, this much oatmeal, poured from the bag, and one cup of soy milk. I put it all in a four cup Pyrex measure, set that upon the turntable, and run our 1400 watt microwave for two minutes.

Two minutes is fine. At two minutes, I can walk away, and the oatmeal will seldom boil over. And I'll have a decent bowl of oatmeal, a bit dry in the center of the flakes, perhaps, but perfectly palatable.

Ah, but three minutes! Three minutes yields an excellent bowl of oatmeal. At three minutes, all the flakes are plump and moist, the milk has merged into something greater, and an exquisite edge of carmel has joined the flavor circus. Three minutes is gorgeous.

And three minutes means pushing the edge. Complete attention, as I watch the oatmeal rise through the gridded window. My finger hovers, ready to stop the process, let the foam fall, rescue my carefree breakfast from wasting itself on the surface of the turntable. Each morning, with changes in the atmosphere or whim of oatmeal volume, the process reinvents itself -- no simple formula can capture its living complexity. Just me, completely alive to the moment, watching the rise, hitting the button, looking at the black screen that hides the contents when the power is off, until I feel my moment return, restarting, and repeating. To three minutes. Or maybe a little longer.

And then, if I have danced my dance well, I eat a great bowl of oatmeal.

Or if not, I suffer the agonies of short rations and microwave KP duty.

Or maybe not. Maybe it's only oatmeal.

Or maybe it's something magnificent, because I have invested myself in it.

Here is your day. May you dramatize it or float through it, as suits you best.

Letters

Dear Readers,

So many of you have forgotten about writing personal letters. Is there no place in the world for time spent, writing one person to one person? Here is an art, crafting words for one other's eyes, that is practice for truth, for relationship, for empathy and presence. There is value in the old forms.

Yes, I know you are busy. Phone calls are faster, and hearing a voice is its own pleasure. Casual emails, dropping the formalities, get something said without placing too much weight on it. Barely personalized mass mailings of Christmas cards let you connect with the so many you know and feel for, say hello, I'm still here, I still care and still have time for your life. I thank you for those efforts of connection and care.

And I challenge you -- look at the letter. See, here: the date. Forever marking this expression as belonging to one point in time. Breathing the now of that moment. This is what I said to you then.

And the salutation: oh, how I have constructed and deconstructed the salutation over the years. I was taught, to begin with, that you wrote "Dear ..." as a form. It no longer meant that you held dear the person so saluted, any more than putting the knife on the right of the plate means you are taking special care to notice that the person you are setting the table for is right-handed. All "Dear ..." meant was that you knew and followed the correct form. And then, and then -- oh, the letters we wrote, and how we experimented, brash, wild rebels, with other salutations! "Hello, ..." "Good morning! ..." "Hi, ...". We might try "Dearest ..." in ironicool mode or "Old Chap ..." in Brit-derived semi-casual literary reference mode. We might even write "Beloved ..." in a wild access of self-unveiling and passion. And back to "Dear ...", with full import, yes, it is a form, and yes! it is a truth, you are dear to me, and I show it by taking the time to write, and I create it by trusting and believing and writing to you my truth, my self, these gifts of words. Dear reader.

And then the body. Room for improvisation. Simple, because all we really need is the intent to communicate. Newsy, because we have stories to share. Or want to be known. Stylish, look, isn't this beautiful? Don't I make these words worth the time of reading? Aren't I clever? Heartfelt, to reach you. Tailored, to show I have seen who you are, and I have chosen this for you. Containing gifts of information and appreciation.

Look! for you! this astounding quote I found today: "Through it all, listen to the stirrings of your heart and the calling of your soul. The ultimate purpose of spirituality is to bridge the illusory divide between the self and the Divine. (...) Spirituality is a full-contact sport, and you are called to participate in your own journey on as deep of a level as you can." Jhenah Telyndru.

Isn't that the heart of Christmas? How God sent his son to bridge the gap between Himself and us? And how our part, is to build our own end of the bridge, as best we know how to do it, and come to Him in the middle? And build our own bridges, one to another, recognizing one another as His children, His hands, His workings through this world?

And isn't a letter a bridge? An art, a path, a way? Not just the bridge between person and person. Like all arts, the bridge between who we are now and who we are becoming. Shall we become masters of something? What is your art? Is it reaching for perfection in the shape of a sentence, the color brushes of oil paint, a glory of expression of note, rhythm and passion in song? Is it getting through a day of career and family and home and still being sane at the end? Is it doing your work just a little better than the day before? Is it more self-awareness in that asana, or more devotion in that prayer? A martial art? Friendship? Marriage? And couldn't writing a letter enhance whatever art you practice? Or be its own art, its own ascent to the pinnacle?

Yes, the body.

And then, the closure. The classical form is "Your devoted servant," and who in our democratic present would want that? Who would give themselves to serve another, devotedly, voluntarily, and as a formula? Never mind that the closure would be returned in form again. There's something, in a meeting of modern equals, free men and women, that rebels against declaring oneself a servant. And so, we have, "Your friend," or move to dropping what exactly we are, and write, "Yours," all simply. Yet, that's too plain, does not carry our intent -- so we get "Devotedly yours," "Fraternally yours," "Sincerely yours," oh, yes, but really this whole possession thing is a bother, and it becomes just "Sincerely," for the less intimate letters. And sincerely is the new standard. To say we really meant it, we are giving, if not ourselves, then at least our truth -- a hair-thin distinction, isn't it?

And "Love," is the standard for those we are familiar with -- familiar in the old nearly family, shocked Victorian woman exclaiming with her hand to her chest "You are too familiar, sir!" sense -- for those we can clearly and unironically admit to loving, at least as far as a semi-form closing, 'cause writing "I love you" might just be too much.

And they all mean I care. From "Your devoted servant," to "Yours," to "Sincerely," to "Love," they all express our intention to connect, one to another.

Which is why we have the emerging alternate standard of closing by wishing someone well. "Best wishes," "All the best to you," "May you have your heart's desire," "Merry Christmas," "Blessed Be," "Live long and prosper," and many more. Room for creativity here. If creativity is what you want. Because original or form, the letter still says: Salutation: I care; Body: I care; Closing: I care. And that is the beauty and value of the forms, that even tongue-tied and self-conscious, here we can say and connect, in the tested and beautiful ways.

And so I take letter-writing as one of my arts. Should you choose this art, or should you choose another, may it bring you closer to the Divine and to the ones you love this season.

Devotedly yours,
Anna

Twenty years of bliss

I have a really great marriage. When people fantasize about their ideal marriage, their fantasy is only half of my reality. I mean, look at this:

It's snowing. It snowed all day yesterday. So we need to clean the walks. Doug takes the snow shovel. I take a straw broom and make like a Russian grandmother --

now, why I keep feeling like a Russian grandmother, I don't know. I have no Russian ancestry, as far as I know, mostly Swede/Suomi, German and English -- but this photo I saw once -- or did I dream it -- with this woman, all bundled with her broom, waiting in the doorway for her chance to sweep -- labelled as Russian grandmother, employed as as snowsweeper for pennies a day -- that has stayed with me for years, decades even, and especially now that my waist is more sturdy than slim, and my hair piles on top of my head as the first of many snowballs that shape my silhouette -- I find myself thinking of myself as a Russian grandmother

-- so I make like a Russian grandmother, and together we go clear the snow. And he conscientiously asks if I want the Yak traks, so I won't slip. And just this morning, I was theorizing that my charisma was around 14, with a plus two bonus for nerds, since I speak the language, and he says you're 18/99 to me. Even though I've been his trophy bride for almost 20 years, and have this Russian grandmother vibe going on.

And we have no income, and it's him and me together, happy, anyway. Glad to be together. Taking on the projects, the one day at a time, to get to our next thing. Enjoying having more time together. And there through the ups and downs.

Like that. The real thing. Love.

Motel memories

The earliest memory I have of a motel: we were on our way to Christmas. I don't know why we stopped -- usually we made the trip in a single day. It was late. We checked in, Dad dashing to the office through the rain, and moved into a room. The roof leaked into the center of the second bed. So somehow, we arranged two adults and three -- or was it four? -- children around the relentless drip and splosh.

Nonetheless, I've always liked motels. Some place new, an adventure -- maybe even then I liked rising to the challenge of dealing with the unexpected.

There was a family that came each summer to stay in the small town I grew up in. They took lodging in the Miles Motel, and I peered through the door into their room, as fascinated as if they dwelt in a fairy burrow.

For one family reunion, we stayed in a motel with remarkably low rates. Inside, the rooms had the further surprises of a kitchen, complete with oven, and pink painted stone walls. Only the mosquitos rising off the nearby creek marred my fantasy of settling in there for months to write a novel.

My great origami road trip brought me to motel after motel. The most interesting lay along the old Route 66 -- with staff seemingly all a family, and signs faded, with the tourist flow having diverted along the new freeway. At one, a lone musician in the attached cafe countered my request for Greenback Dollar with a decent rendition of Tom Dooley. In another -- seemingly the last room in town -- the smoke was so thick, I decided a shower the next morning would serve no purpose.

The greatest gift I found was in a room with dingy tub and bars on the windows. The bed had one of those massage devices that shook the frame for a few minutes for a quarter. I had had a rough day -- the travel was beginning to wear on me in aching muscles, twisty stomach and pounding head. I lay on that bed, and dropped my quarter in, reaching again and again into the tarry cavity to retrieve my quarter where it dropped all the way through.