Women Who Run

with the Wolves.

That’s the book my new Jungian analyst recommended I get hold of in order to re-read the Bluebeard story. Soon. Of course I’ve read that book.

“At least once,” I told him.

But that was a looooong time ago.

I am currently under the influence of alcohol.  

I want my old blog back. I need this. I am not a private person. I think I need a place where I can process what I’m going through. A place where I can get feedback from other humans. I don’t know how to negotiate this with my very private partner. Perhaps if I agree never to bring the relationship into the public sphere. Maybe if I never mention HIM. (???)

It is possible, I think, to use alcohol consciously. I’m thinking of taking some with me to my next analysis session. Thinking of asking Paul, “May I drink, Sir, using the alcohol as a sort of truth serum?”

In the movie The Good Shepherd, they used LSD to that end.

I’m back.

From Two Blogs to One

I reached a decision last night while having drinks downtown with my coworkers and supervisor.  I am finding it stressful to try to maintain two blogs (plus the two professional ones–one for each of my ESL classes).  But I am having fun with Border Cities Blooming.  So I’m putting this one to bed, at least for the foreseeable future.  I won’t take it down since people still refer to old posts, such as the recipe for Zereshk Polo, and how to reach Anatole Rybas.

The other blog is less personal and certainly does have a culinary focus, but it is also where I will document trips we take, museums and festivals we attend, movies I feel like reviewing and my habit of counting my blessings daily.  I would love to see you over there if the idea of following a slightly less personal blog and those topics interests you.  If not, I would welcome continuing my friendship with you via email.  If you do not already have my email and want it, leave a comment on this post and I will reply.

Cheers!

That Being Said…

I am struggling. I suspect this is one of those times when I should do what my former Jungian analyst advised so many times when I felt I was on the prongs of a dilemma: hold the tension. Hold the tension between two opposites; a third option can magically arise.

On the one hand, I feel a yearning to use this platform like a diary as I once did. On the other hand, I feel inhibited when I think about doing so now. Also, I now have someone in my life who is not the exhibitionist I am. In fact, he tends to be a private person.

So as the days pass, I just sit and do nothing. Neither do I get on with my life and forget the blog, nor do I write. (Though I am writing now, am I not?) Instead I spend hours paralyzed by indecision.

A good part of me wants just to be free from the grappling. I’m tired of it. I’m tired, also, of feeling obligated to blog. I know I put a badge on my blog a long time ago saying “Blogging without Obligation.” But I do feel something akin to obligation. It’s not so much to my tiny retinue of readers (I LOVE YOU!), but almost to myself. Maybe it stems from my obsessive-compulsive bent. When I don’t blog a recent important event or psychological / emotional state, I feel anxious, and that anxiety is only relieved by getting my feelings and thoughts out.

Should I go back to a private diary? I wonder about that, as well. I do have a Penzu account and sometimes use it to record dreams and special things I can’t put here.

I have really enjoyed the new blog, Border Cities Blooming. I love posting about food and explorations around the border region. But since the big road trip, I am about 12 restaurant reviews and meals behind, thus feel overwhelmed by the idea of trying to catch up. I think my O.C.D. has affixed itself to the act of blogging, that’s what I think.

Sigh.

I do believe I need a break from this, maybe to discontinue altogether, but I must be addicted. I notice that I tend to quit blogging the way some people stop smoking: temporarily and often.

I also find that stopping blogging feels a lot like going on a diet. I always want to start the fast “tomorrow,” after this one last guilt-inducing yummy morsel.

State of the Kiki Address

It’s a rainy afternoon. I just put a skillet of corn bread in the oven while a ham hock boils on the stove in preparation for tonight’s mess of collard greens and pecan-crusted catfish.  Travelling through the South with a new southern cookbook on the back seat of the car left me hankering to try out some of the recipes on Chuck, a very willing test kitchen volunteer.

A group of House Sparrows is on the lower deck by the river pecking up one of last week’s corn muffins (from a mix) that I crumbled up for them this morning.

Chuck is off doing his thing over in Michigan–putting in a few hours at the Red Cross followed by some time at his house getting it cleaned up enough for me to start helping him clean it up.

There is a lot I would like to be able to blog about but feel I cannot do so without compromising the privacy of the parties involved. There’s my sweetie and his privacy, my ex and his, and that of a close friend.  I have one friend I can talk to about the situation, but she is far away. She did help me a lot during a recent visit. I couldn’t really talk to my mom about it because we didn’t get a whole lot of mother-daughter time this visit.  Maybe I’ll try emailing her about it.

So that’s why the posts here have become rather impersonal lately. I can tell you about my trip and the food we ate. I can blog about my daily routines.  BO-ring.

What I can tell you is that it’s difficult. I feel alone in this.

What is this “THIS” that I’m talking about?

A couple of relationships–one very close one and one that wasn’t as close but was still important to me–have suffered as the result of my getting together with Chuck.  Those relationships were strained by my break-up with Sylvain, but the union with Chuck seems to have derailed them completely.

I can’t tell you how wonderful it was when I arrived in Cedar Crest, NM and watched Chuck absolutely hit it off with one of my relatives. That felt so nice for me. Then my aunt took me aside after our dinner out on the night of our arrival and whispered to me, “He’s a keeper. Hold on to him!”

That felt validating, too.

I guess we bloggers can’t really use this forum to talk about our significant relationships at all. Sure, we can talk about the good stuff. The other party never takes issue with that. But then you, the blog reader, are never getting the full picture.  You didn’t have the full picture of my last relationship and you’ll not have a fair image of this one, either.  I might soon feel okay about sharing the fun parts, but I’ll never reveal our problems unless it can be done in a way where both parties agree to the message being shared.  Chuck and I have already agreed that if we are ever experiencing a rough patch, we’ll never show it in public.  We agree that it’s not appropriate to air one’s dirty laundry. It isn’t pleasant for the couple and it makes those who are exposed to the discord uncomfortable, too.

So I don’t really know what to do. I would love to be able to tell you about my new relationship, our bliss, our growth, our deepening love…but I don’t feel I can freely express myself here at this moment without risking being misunderstood and without risking hurting others.

Road Trip Part 6 – Soul Food and Family

This blog post has been moved to Bordercitiesblooming.blogspot.ca.

Road Trip Part 5…in Which We Are Not Abducted by Aliens

Chuck only had three things he wanted to do / see during this entire two-week trip: stop in Roswell, NM; stop at the Buddy Holly Center in Lubbock; stop at Crater of Diamonds State Park, AR to look for diamonds.  Everything else was from my personal agenda, and he tagged along for those activities with a degree of patience I found utterly astounding.  I know that if the shoe were on the other foot, I probably could not endure three different stops to meet another person’s relatives nor spend hours in houses filled with people I had never met before. He’s a trooper!

So when we arrived in Roswell in the late afternoon just in time to find a CLOSED sign in the window at the UFO Museum and Research Center, I was more than a little disappointed in my own failure to plan better.  Exhibiting the good humour that I’ve come to learn is typical of him, Chuck settled for a trio of hokey souvenir shops.

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lamp post in Roswell, NM

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invaded furniture store

Our next stop was Artesia, which is where my mom’s sister still lives. Aunt P is my godmother and housed me like a sibling to her other two kids for long periods of my childhood when my mom had to be in L.A. with my brother at Children’s Hospital for his multiple surgeries.  I have very fond memories of those stays in New Mexico when I was small. It was so great to see her again. We took her to dinner and spent time on the sofa going through photo albums.

After a restful night in one of Aunt P’s guest bedrooms, we set out for Lubbock, home to the Buddy Holly Center and Museum.  I was absolutely certain we had scheduled our departure from Artesia in time to enjoy the history of regional rock and roll until Chuck pointed out the change in time zones. I’d failed to account for that!

“You are seeing the Buddy Holly Center even if we have to spend the night in Lubbock,” I insisted, getting peeved with myself for again failing to plan well. We arrived in Lubbock, however, with plenty of time to enjoy the exhibits and even watch a documentary film about  Hardin’s short life and even shorter ballistic career.  I learned so much about this amazing young man and his music.  Later in the gift shop I got my brother a souvenir tee shirt and a memorial CD set for Chuck, which we enjoyed in the car all the way to Little Rock. Many of the tunes in this special collection had never before been released in the U.S., and some do not sound anything like what a die-hard fan would expect from the artist. Case in point: Smoky Joe’s Cafe.

We spent the night in Wichita Falls, TX and in the morning headed for Crater of Diamonds State Park.  By the time we got to the area, a long and steady rain reaching all the way to Little Rock was making the idea of diamond hunting less and less appealing.  Oh, well. Along with all the life birds I dipped on, we have to save some treasures for next time, eh?

When we passed a sign that Chuck thought would make a good story, I offered to double back so he could get a good picture.

“Don’t you want to be in the picture?” I asked.  He assented and posed in front of the green road sign just long enough for me to snap two or three shots. No sooner had he crossed the highway back to the parked car than he was frantically brushing little biting insects off his ankles, calves, thighs and from inside his urgently removed sneakers.  As soon as I saw the ants, I joined him in brushing them away as fast as I could.

Our next impromptu stop was a pharmacy.

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Sightings of Chihuahuan Raven in the western region soon gave way to a plethora of Scissor-tailed Flycatchers and Northern Mockingbirds.

As we neared my mother’s home in North Little Rock, my dreams of authentic southwestern cuisine began to be replaced by fantasies of black-eyed peas, turnip greens, fried okra and catfish, gumbo and corn bread, and diners where the tea is sweet unless you request otherwise.  Before leaving the area, we would taste most of those and more.

…to be continued…

No Rufous-necked Wood Rail (Road Trip Part 4)

….continued from previous posts…

After a disappointing “free” breakfast of watery scrambled eggs the previous morning at the hotel, we checked out of the Plaza Inn hoping to find a diner on the way out of town. I suggested we detour into downtown Albuquerque rather than hunting for breakfast from the freeway, and Chuck spied the winning side street as we slowly drove up one main boulevard and down the next seeing one after another CLOSED sign at seven in the morning.

A sign in the window of Cecilia’s Cafe announced breakfast burritos, and it was open. The decor was a modest mix of shrines to the Virgin of Guadalupe and portraits of grandchildren. How could we go wrong?

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Indeed, the huevos rancheros and chorizo burrito left us satisfied and ready to continue our southwest journey.

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huevos rancheros at Cecilia’s Cafe

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chorizo breakfast burrito at Cecilia’s Cafe

My original 2012 road trip plan was to arrive in Belen before dusk so as to look for the Burrowing Owls at Taco Bell Marsh. In order to pass through my cousin L’s town at a time when it was convenient for her AND move on to visit my aunt in Artesia on a day when she was free, I had to save those owls for another time.

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Instead I had one spare hour to cruise around Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge.  I was hoping that the area right around the visitor centre might be almost as productive as the gardens at Randall Davey Audubon Center and Sanctuary had been.  While Googling the refuge that morning, Chuck learned that there was much hullabaloo over a Rufous-necked Wood Rail. We arrived at roosting hour and found almost no birds of interest, just some egrets, herons and sandpipers that are easy to see back home. In fact the list of birds I’d hoped we might get but didn’t is much longer than the list of ones we saw. We had fun in the gift shop and learned from the docent that the wood rail had been reported to the local media immediately upon its discovery, but the local press had only responded when the Associated Press finally picked it up over a week later.

We got to Nogal in time for lunch with my first cousin L, her husband G, and their son C.  It was my first visit since they bought a log cabin up in the hills near Ruidoso.  I hadn’t seen my little first cousin once removed since he was about three years old! It was lovely to visit with them and see their new place–which was miraculously spared in the 2012 Little Bear fire while dozens of neighbours lost homes, barns and animals.

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Chuck, Wink and Kelly

My cousin headed off with her horse trailer to do a job while we continued on toward my aunt’s home in Artesia, stopping in Roswell because…well…goofy people have to stop there.

…continued in the next post…

 

Life Birds and Meeting Family (Road Trip part 3)

…continued from the last two posts…

With only two weeks allotted for the trip, I had resigned myself at the beginning of the journey to the fact that I would not be getting a great number of life birds unless I was willing to sacrifice one or more of my other priorities, such as seeing relatives, stopping for good meals, or spending a few days with Mom.

“Tomorrow you can sleep in,” I’d told Chuck at the end of my wonderful birthday since he had risen before dawn to get me to the sanctuary before they even opened. Keeping my word, I joined him in a later-than-usual breakfast at the hotel before we set out to find the first of three birding destinations of the day, a very easy birding schedule that I’d hoped might net me one or two life birds if I was lucky.

The sun was already scorching by the time we found the next hot spot I had highlighted in Birding Hot Spots of Central New Mexico. We easily found Embudo Canyon at the end of a cul-de-sac in a residential neighbourhood. As we were coming to the end of Indian School Road, I got my first lifer of the day: a Curve-billed Thrasher was perched atop a green street sign! It swooped away before Chuck could turn the car around, but the silhouette had been clear enough for me to count it.

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feeling overheated

We got out of the car and began applying sun block. I hadn’t even started looking for birds yet, but my attention was drawn to a Scaled Quail singing atop a desert plant with a central stalk on which to perch. I felt as if he were putting on a welcome show just for me!

We walked the trails for a short while; I managed to pish up my first Black-throated Sparrow.  Then we went back toward the parking lot to stroll down one residential street and up the other, as alluded to in the guide book. Enjoying feeders, gardens and bird baths were Canyon and Spotted Towhees, several kinds of Hummingbirds, Ash-throated Flycatcher and Western Kingbird.

By the end of this walk in the midday sun, we were ready to find a place to cool off with a refreshing beverage. We easily found a Starbucks where we enjoyed free wifi and regrouped for our next trail walk.

With the help of Liddell & Hussey’s guide, we found the trail head to Three Gun Springs (Tres Pistolas). Perhaps I was feeling lazy at this point in the day, because I unfortunately failed to note the length or difficulty of this hike. I cannot fault the very comprehensive guide. For every stop it gives directions, target species, what to watch out for (such as bears, rattlers, harvester ants), etc. But the guide only works if you read it.  I had only skimmed the paragraph up to the point where I learned to take a left at a fork rather than a right toward the hawk watch tower.

Well.

We walked.  And walked.  And walked.  There were no springs in sight. And it was hot. And we did not have water with us.  Yes, I know. Stupid. All trails undertaken to this point had been easy half-mile hikes, one-mile hikes, etc.  My bad.

So we walked some more, guessing that we might come upon the springs ANY TIME NOW, the book being back in the car.

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There was no bird activity save three Turkey Vultures way off in the distance. Were they taking up a pool on how long it would take the two tourists to succumb while trudging uphill in the heat of midday?

Finally we spotted movement in some Junipers. I may have jumped up and down when I realized there were at least three Juniper Titmice flitting from evergreen to evergreen out there in the heat. That species had eluded me for the last two or three stops, and seeing them made the wild goose chase worth it.

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We turned back after what may have been a mile or more. Next time we’ll read the guide more carefully before starting a hike.

Back at the car we did spy a Western Scrub Jay, and flushed a Cooper’s Hawk from a tree, but neither time–arriving or departing–did zig-zagging through the adjacent residential area  render any bird sightings. Going in the early morning or evening might have proved more fruitful.

Finally it was time to check out the hot spot right next to the rendezvous place for meeting my little cousins that evening: Ojito de San Antonio Open Space. We found the old church on the corner of two unpaved roads using our usual navigational combination of GPS, iPhone maps app and directions provided in the book. We parked next to a pickup truck, noting “Someone is already here.” We were swapping out our sandals for hiking boots when the man sitting in the truck started to speak to us. He informed us that the open space was not open at all; we could not go in.  I then noticed the sign chained to the open gate.  Soon a second man in another pickup truck came back out the gate, and that man closed and locked the gate.

With a bit of a thumb to nose attitude, I said something to the effect of, “FINE, then! We’ll just go to my cousin’s house up the road and bird her PRIVATE PROPERTY.  Hrmph.”

And that we did, arriving much earlier than we were expected to.  Hence the bewildered teenager answering the door.  Hence our staring at one another until a quick phone call to his mom cleared things up and resulted in a gracious invitation to come in, join him in front of the television and have something cool to drink.

It wasn’t long before my late cousin’s ex arrived on the scene and we were soon in the midst of new cousins, old cousins, new husbands, uncles of cousins from the other side of the family and more people than we could keep up with as we shook hands or hugged our way through them all.

G had made up a crock pot of buffalo stew, which hit the spot and gave me energy for more birding around their gorgeous hilltop property.

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delicious buffalo stew

G’s husband heard our story of the closed gate and advised us that locals just ignore that and sneak through the bars of the gate, something I’m sure the authors of our guide would never condone.

Gate or no gate, the problem of the recent drought could not be circumvented. G’s husband told us that they had just had a 50-year drought two years in a row. There was no water trickling through the acequia.

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We followed the dry creek bed to its source, but there was no water there, either.  The location was not totally devoid of birds, though. A Broad-tailed Hummingbird followed Chuck and his red cap around, and I got a good look at a Say’s Phoebe before we gave up the hunt.

Our host was not comfortable leaving us to wander around the apple orchard without some way to scare away bears.  I am not going to blog about what one of the men carried throughout our hike. (We’re not in Canada anymore, Toto!)

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Determined to find running water, our host took us to a spring on his property, but it was also dry as a bone. Poor birdies.  There were a couple species of hummingbirds visiting their garden, but other than that there was nothing to distract me when my two little cousins arrived around supper time.

I spent the rest of the evening getting to know six-year-old J and eight-year-old M, both darling children with whom I can now begin a correspondence and relationship. Chuck spent the evening deep in conversation with the children’s father.  It was a delightful time; we didn’t start back to our hotel in Albuquerque until late in the night.

We would need to rise early the next day in preparation for our alien encounters in Roswell!

….to be continued…

It All Seems to Flow (Road Trip part 2)

…continued from the previous post…

In New Mexico there were not only many bird species I’d never seen but also two little cousins, Little M and J (first cousins twice removed), that I’d never met. I’d received periodic stories, school pictures, and family portraits, but had never been in the same room with these quickly growing up little people.

In addition to that, it was probably 1994 the last time I had seen my first cousin L, her husband G and their son C. In fact C was barely out of diapers the last time I’d seen him, and now he’s finishing up his university degree. Sigh.

I had a set of first cousins once removed to whom I had sent birthday and Christmas gifts throughout their growing up, but whom I had not seen in just as long.  I had never met M’s husband–the father in all those family portraits with little M and J. So in addition to birding, I was hoping to hit each of their towns on days when they would neither be away on vacation nor too busy to visit with us. Adding to the complications was the fact that Chuck and I moved this trip up by at least three weeks after he learned of his earlier-than-expected lay-off from the refinery job.

Somehow, though, it all worked out rather well.  The children I was hoping to meet were being brought to the home of one of their grandmother’s for babysitting while their parents took their yearly vacation to Las Vegas. If we timed it right, we could arrange to be at that grandma’s house the evening their parents delivered them there. All I knew was that this grandma lived in or near Albuquerque, and our birding route was bringing us right to Albuquerque just one day before that rendezvous was to take place.  After that we would pass through cousin L’s town after her horse’s vet appointment but before she had a job to do at 3:00. And we would arrive at my aunt’s house down near the Texas border after her Monday medical appointment but before the Friday one. It was all coming together perfectly.

So we booked ourselves into an Albuquerque hotel for two nights, enjoying the rare luxury of not having to search out new lodging the next night. We would hit a few more of the birding hot spots that day and then find out where to be that evening to see the children.

Each time we had emailed or texted updates on our E.T.A. as we approached Albuquerque, we had gotten more details. Yes, my cousin’s ex wife and her new husband welcomed us to visit the children in their home.  Now I had an email address for them. Next I got a number at which I could call or text them. Finally it was time to get an address.

Using Chuck’s lap top and Google Maps, I found G and G’s house in the eastern mountains outside Albuquerque. They lived on a dirt road near an old church. San Antonio mission church, in fact. Huh? The church and the map of the roads around it looked mighty familiar to me.  Um.  What?  I found myself looking at the exact same map that I had studied all last year in my book about birding Central New Mexico. Behind this old mission church was supposed to be a hot spot called Ojito de San Antonio Open Space.  My cousin’s ex, it turned out, lived right up the hill (maybe a quarter mile) from the gurgling spring that attracted so many birds.

Jazzed by this crazy coincidence, we made a birding agenda for the day that would end at the Ojito de San Antonio Open Space. From there we could retreat to our host’s home to recover from a day spent birding in the desert heat and, hopefully, hug and kiss and visit with a lot of dear people I’d either never met or had not seen in almost twenty years.

…to be continued…

Grace All Along the Way

I made Sundays at Moosewood rusks; they are great to take on a road trip, hiking or camping because they are tasty (cinnamon, almond, vanilla) lightweight and will not spoil for weeks.

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19 July 2013

We stopped on the south side of Chicago for my first ever Maxwell Street Polish.

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When a disheveled gentleman with a hospital bracelet asked if anyone in line would buy him a pop, someone did.

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20 July 2013

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20 July 2013 Double rainbow

Crossing America’s heartland, we search out quaint diners like Pheasant Run in Hays, KS with gingham curtains and duck hunting prints for sale on the wall.

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21 July 2013

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21 July 2013

Sugar City, Colorado Population 279

Sugar City, Colorado
Population 279

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We found a place where pop is just sixty cents and a full home style meal is $5.50.  A fellow birder at the next table volunteered information about local birds when the server alerted her to my field guide. The bird soaring low over the neighbourhood was a Mississippi Kite.
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21 July 2013

Swainson’s Hawks preened atop many power poles while Western Kingbirds did their fly-catching air dance. We had a few Eurasian Collared Doves, too. In Colorado we had a Loggerhead Shrike and passed a group of Mule Deer. Herds of wild horses grazed or galloped freely, their black manes and tales contrasting with their shiny sorrel coats and blazed foreheads.

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watch out for elk

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Got to tick an item off my bucket list: see Taos, New Mexico. Black-billed Magpies welcomed us to town.

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…and meet a longtime blogosphere friend for the first time face-to-face.

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We broke bread together at Old Martina’s Hall across from San Francisco de Asis mission church. Construction on the church began in 1772. I was happy to find that two adjacent gift shop / galleries were still open, though the church itself was not.

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We drove on after supper in order to be able to wake up very early in Santa Fe. It was my fiftieth birthday, and what a birthday it would turn out to be!

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Many birthday presents awaited me in the gardens around the visitors’ center of this sanctuary: Black-chinned, Rufous, Broad-tailed and Calliope Hummingbirds buzzed from feeder to feeder, from one bush full of tube-shaped, jewel-hued flowers to another. One or two tried to drink from the eyelets in Chuck’s red cap, a thrill we might have captured on video had it not been for the arrival of a group of school children. It turned out that the high-pitched jingle bell sound in the air was being produced by the wings of the male Broad-tailed hummingbird.

Coming to the trickling fountain and other bird baths were Evening and Black-headed Grosbeaks. Several Spotted Towhees and a couple of Canyon Towhees scratched in the mulch around the shrubs and flowering bushes.

Pine Siskins and Lesser Goldfinches enjoyed the seed silos while White-winged Doves cooed in the branches of trees over our heads. House Finches were everywhere. A Grey Flycatcher was kind enough to show itself while I was checking off life birds.

After the gardens, we took the trails that wind through a few different habitats in hopes of seeing Juniper Titmouse or Mountain Chickadee. We didn’t get either of those, but the hike was beautiful.

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Before lunch we visited the Cathedral Basilica of Saint Francis of Asisi. Was it just a coincidence that my favorite Saint seemed to greet us at every turn?

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In search of authentic local fare the whole trip, for lunch we passed up an opportunity to eat at Cafe Pasqual’s in favour of The Shed: Creative Cooking, where we waited a long time for a table and were told by others in line that it was “worth the wait.”

my first New Mexican posole

my first New Mexican posole

A kind stranger at the next table offered to snap our picture. Nice people are everywhere.

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I had spent many weeks leading up to the summer of 2012 (before postponing this trip by a year) going through The Birding Hot Spots of Central New Mexico with a yellow highlighter.  I had then plotted potential stops using Google’s “MyTrips” app. On each stop I had loaded the names of target bird species. Many hot spots were centered in and around the Turquoise Trail, which links Santa Fe and Albuquerque, specifically along the Sandia Crest highway that winds its way through five life zones up to the peak of Sandia Crest where one can see 100 miles in every direction on a clear day, and where all three Rosy Finches can be seen at the feeders of the Crest House in winter.

After lunch in Santa Fe, we set out to bird the Sandia Crest.

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As soon as we got out of the car at the first stop I’d highlighted in the book, we could hear high-pitched bird noise above our heads. Ignoring an offer from a passerby in a pickup truck to point out the trail head, we started following the bird sounds high up in some conifers. I was slipping in my Blunnies as I tried to climb a woodland embankment.  Finally we caught bird movement and discovered the source of the sound: a baby Red-naped Sapsucker being fed by a busy parent bird. We watched the hungry nestling stick its head out of the tree cavity during the adult’s absences. What a nice birthday present that was!

After finding the trailhead and reading up on how to avoid confrontation with bears, we did a good portion of the trail. White-breasted and Red-breasted Nuthatches foraged on tree trunks very high above us. The quick glimpse I may have gotten of a Pygmy Nuthatch wasn’t good enough for me to count that species on my life list, but Mountain Chickadees were more cooperative, as were the Cordilleran Flycatchers. A female Calliope Hummingbird made an appearance, and Virginia’s Warbler did as well.

My favourite mammal sighting of the whole trip may have been Albert’s Squirrel with its skunk-like tail, tufted black ears and black nose.

As Chuck drove, I buried my head in the Hot Spots of Central New Mexico guide. Our next goal would be to find “the log,” a natural watering trough attracting dozens of bird and mammal species each hour. Even though Common Raven, Albert’s and Red Squirrels and Red-breasted Nuthatches were the only creatures to appear for a drink during our time sitting there, it was a pleasant stop. I would definitely recommend it to anyone with time to sit there and wait for the birds to arrive.

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sitting on a log watching THE log

We continued to drive the switchbacks up, up, up to the top of the crest. At one point Chuck suggested we stop at a scenic lookout point and get out. Though a stand of trees blocked our view of the valley below, we began to notice a lot of little birds moving over the ground on the shrubby mountain slopes in front of us. They were scratch-hopping the way towhees and Fox Sparrows do and had deep rufous crowns. After much deliberation, I decided they had to be Green-tailed Towhees!

We had been trying to make it to the top of the Crest before the sun went down and stole the breathtaking view; dusk was quickly approaching when we started to head back to the parked car. Just then I noticed a few black and white swallow-like birds careening through the sky just off the mountainside. Could they be one of my target birds for the trip? Yes. They were White-throated Swifts.

We arrived at the Crest House after it had closed, but the view was still free. A Rock Wren was feeding on the rocks at our feet while we took in the incredible vista.

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What a topper to an amazing BIRTH day. It couldn’t have been more special.

…to be continued…

Grace in Small Things 250

  • I think I’ve found someone responsible to take care of my plants and bird feeders while we’re away
  • the landlord provided a window unit with this apartment – – hallelujah!
  • the VW place was able to squeeze me in tomorrow for regular maintenance and to make sure the car is ready for a long trip
  • the zinnias I’d thought were crispy came back after a good watering
  • a friendly and helpful bank teller with a nice smile

 

A Road Trip

First I had planned to take this road trip across New Mexico in the summer of 2012 for the purpose of birding. But then my situation changed. I was moving into a new place to live, and that took centre stage.  All my spare money, time and energy was going into that project: getting moved and furnishing my new place. That was fine. As life brings changes, our priorities shift. No biggie. I could postpone my trip one year.

So then I had planned to make the same trip this year. Then I met Chuck and asked him if he would like to accompany me on my trip. When he said yes, I realized that as long as I had him in the car headed south, we may as well drive a few more hundred miles and let my mom set eyes on him. The plan changed many times over the past few months. She would meet us in New Mexico, we would go to her. We would travel at the end of August. No, in the middle of August.  Well, since Chuck’s work situation has changed earlier than expected, the plan has again changed. It’s good to be flexible, I believe.

The current aim is to leave within a few days. Once we get out there in the southwest, I may find that summer birding in the desert isn’t all that fun. Maybe we’ll manage to get in some dawn and dusk birding, or maybe a lot of sun block and a Tilley hat will help with the sun. I don’t know since I’ve never done this before. What I do know is that we are both ready to go with the flow and flow with whatever happens, allowing priorities to shift with the circumstances. It’s all good.

I hope to see you all back here in about two weeks’ time.

Grace in Small Things 249

  • a friend’s good news (congratulations, S)
  • receiving an invitation
  • being able to provide a shady bird cafe with grain, nectar and cool water for the grackles, doves, cowbirds, hummingbirds, sparrows and blackbirds
  • planning and preparing a healthful meal together
  • getting lots of rest

Custom Cross-body Mini Purse

Background – Last week I decided I had to take matters into my own hands.

I had spent the prior month or more searching high and low for a purse to replace the one that was on its last leg. Some folks call this a mini-bag, mini messenger bag, cross-body bag, passport bag, or any number of other names. I got my first one in Toronto in 2009. It was made it Nepal and the material was hemp.  Eventually the strap broke and I repaired it twice by just tying it to itself. Didn’t I look grand wearing a purse with big knots holding the strap together?

Chuck had patiently tagged along as I poked my head into every shop and tent at the Kalamazoo Art on the Mall festival, and every similar event or location ever since. I’d shopped online for hours at a time, always finding that my ideal bag just wasn’t available. I finally decided to just make my own.

I went online looked at a few free patterns and tutorials before I felt confident that I could create a good bag without a pattern, having gotten a good grasp of the principles to follow. I will share those principles here so you can make your own perfect bag.

Fabric - I started by getting a small length of each of two materials, a thinner, smoother one for the lining. This drapery material was on the “upholstery ends” sale table and resembles hemp or flax in its nubbiness. The cotton batik I got just because it was on sale for $3 per yard. I got 1/2 yard of the 60″ wide loosely woven cotton material and a yard of the 45″ wide batik. I bought more than I thought I would need, planning on making a second purse for my mom if the first one turned out nice.

I found this drapery fabric to be very difficult to work with and would not choose it again. It frayed (shed entire threads from top to bottom) constantly–every time I looked at it sideways, much less touched, folded or carried it over to the sewing machine. Since I don’t have a serger or overlock machine, I had to use a zig-zag stitch on all edges before further handling.

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Measuring - Next I got a measuring tape and gathered the things I want to be able to carry around. I wanted this purse to be wide and deep enough for my wallet and iPhone.  Really tired of having to scrounge around at the bottom of my old purse for my lip products or pen, I wanted this purse to have some little patch pockets on the lining for my Burt’s Bees lip balm and one lipstick, plus a pocket for a pen.

With the wallet and phone placed on the fabric, I took measurements of how wide and deep I wanted to make the purse, adding 1/2″ on each side and at each end for seam allowance.

I like for a purse to have a flap that falls over the top, so my measurements ended up being: an 8″ long body plus a 5.5″ flap. The purse was to be 6.75″ wide, plus half inch seam allowances on each side. So from my main fabric and lining I needed to cut a piece that was 23.5″ long and 7.75″ wide.  I also needed to make a shoulder strap. I just eye-balled this one. I don’t like super narrow straps because they hurt your shoulder when you’re carrying a wallet full of toonies and loonies all day long.  I ended up using a 4″ wide strip cut the length of the fabric (I would later cut it down in length after trying the purse on), which is a 1.5″ wide strap (3″ doubled over) plus half-inch seam allowances.

Pockets - I decided to place a little pocket on the front of the purse for all those frequent shopper cards I’ve accumulated. They make my wallet too bulky. You of course want to sew on any pockets before assembling the purse.

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patch pocket shown after assembly of whole purse

On the liner I created a pocket for two lip product tubes. I did this by laying out my chapstick tubes on the fabric, then cutting my pocket around that, leaving room for folds and seams.

To allow for the fact that lipsticks are not flat but cylindrical, I put a little fan fold in the middle of the pocket. That is to say, the fabric had two valley folds and two mountain folds in the middle…like pleats on a pleated skirt. I sewed these in place along the bottom of the pocket and put a seam up between them to separate the two lip balm compartments. This turned out just great.

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lip balm / lipstick pockets

The strap - I made my strap by folding the 4″ wide strip of fabric in half, right sides together, then using a loop turner tool to turn it right side out, after which I pressed it and top-stitched it.

Sewing the purse – The next thing I did was lay out the rectangle of cloth, folding it over right sides together so that I had an 8″ deep purse interior and 6″ flap at the top. I sewed the sides together with a half inch seam allowance on each side. I repeated this step with the lining rectangle.

Here is where things got tricky. I had never made a purse with such a wide strap before and wasn’t sure how to attach it. Because of the thickness of the material, I found the strap to be too bulky to attach the simpler way…by just sewing it onto the sides of the purse on the inside. So I decided to make two small loops of fabric from tubes similar to the strap, only narrower. These I was easily able to attach to the body of the purse–one end to the left back of the purse, one end to the left front. The other loop attached to the right back and right front of the purse body.

Attaching the lining - The next step was to turn the purse so that the right side (with pocket) faced inward. I turned the lining so that the right side (with pockets) faced outward. Then I nested the lining down into the purse and used pins to keep the edges aligned with one another in preparation for sewing.

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You have to take the strap, if you’ve attached one, or those loops for the strap to hook onto later, and push them through to what will be the outside of the purse. I decided I would not sew across this yet, but would sew the lining to the purse and stop just shy of where the loops protruded, waiting until the purse was turned right side out to complete that part.

Also when you sew the lining to the purse, you can’t continue all the way around (flap to flap, mouth to mouth) because you need a gap through which to turn the purse right side out when you’re done. I left a four inch gap on the flap of the purse for this purpose.  I would recommend just basting this step and coming back with a regular stitch if all goes well.

I sewed the lining to the purse then reached through the gap, grabbed the bottom of the purse and pulled it through the opening. I used the plastic end of my seam ripper to push out the corners of the bottom of the purse and corners of the flap.

Next I pinned the fabric in place that was sandwiching the loops on either side and went over that with the machine. Finally, I closed and pinned that four inch gap, tucking the seam allowance inside. I went over the entire purse flap with a top stitch about 1/8″ from the edge.

Attaching the strap - I went back to the fabric store and bought two metal hooks to attach the strap to those little loops I’d made. They were about $3.50 each. Next time I will plan better and not have to use them. My next purse will have a strap that is one continuous piece of fabric forming the bottom, sides and strap of the purse. I will also reinforce the bottom of that future purse with a piece of plastic to make it last longer.

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The end product - Here is the finished purse.  I really like the lip balm pockets. I took the purse with me to Chicago this weekend and loved being able to reach right down without looking or fumbling and find my Burt’s Bees lip balm straight away.

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Grace in Small Things 248

  • finding that all of my plants were still alive in spite of no water from me all weekend
  • an email from across the miles
  • being able to give advice to someone in need
  • a loved one’s safe arrival
  • chilled tabbouleh on a scorching day

Grace in Small Things 247

  • getting to meet Chuck’s brother, who lives in Chicago, and finding that I really like the man; we have enough commonalities to make conversation a real pleasure
  • learning from him about backyard foraging for sorrel and purslane
  • opportunities to eat grits for breakfast and turnip greens, corn bread and fried okra for dinner
  • the biggest meteor I’ve ever seen streaking down from the dark sky toward a nearby cow pasture
  • that this hokey little game awakened memories of trips we made when my brother and I were small enough to ride in the back of the station wagon all the way from California to Arkansas

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Grace in Small Things 246

  • discovering the Chicago neibhourhood called Northcenter with its shady streets and charming late 18th century and early 19th century homes
  • enjoying street food, people and dog watching, browsing the funky wares on offer in the tents–all without the annoyance of cigarette smoke
  • seeing my oldest friend and her partner while sharing in her passion: folk music and dance
  • being coaxed onto the dance floor with my sweetie and swept up in all sorts of new folk dances in spite of my two left feet
  • a partner who can accompany me in something as nerdy as that all day long with a willing attitude

Grace in Small Things 245

  • new CDs for the trip: Leo Kottke, Gordon Lightfoot and Aimee Mann
  • blue skies with a bright sun illuminating the rolling green pastures as I hit the open road
  • driving all the way from my street to an unfamiliar motel just using memory and signage (no maps, no iPhone, no GPS) without making one wrong turn the entire way
  • a slightly earlier than expected lay-off notice for Chuck: no more 60-hour weeks sweating away in a fire-retardant suit up on a scaffold at an ugly, huge refinery in 95 degree heat
  • togetherness

Dream: the bicycle hitchhiker and irresponsible girl

In the first memorable scene of the night’s dreaming, I am on some sort of trip or bus. I am somehow part of a larger group of people, but not closely connected. There is a young and beautiful brunette woman who asks me to loan her some money until Monday. Trusting her completely, I hand over the money without making a note, mental or otherwise, of the amount.

Come Monday, she asks me again for money. This triggers me to remember that I had loaned her some on Friday, which she is now not even acknowledging having received. I have no “IOU” to show for it and cannot even remember how much it was, so complete was my trust that she would both remember the amount and take the initiative to repay me. Hrmph.

In the second dream scene that I can still remember, I am on my bike on a long driveway or private road that ends at a factory or some sort of organization’s buildings. It feels a bit industrial.  I pass a fellow who is walking. Now that I’m awake, it occurs to me that he reminds me of my Indian pen pal, (an odd thought since I’ve never seen a photo of my Indian email friend).  I say hello as I often do with strangers, and pedal on. Then I realize that was rather rude and selfish of me to pass him by and not offer him a ride on the back of my bike since we are both going in the same direction and I have wheels while he doesn’t. So I circle back and offer. He is now a large Caucasian man.  I start to worry that I won’t be physically capable of giving him the lift; thinking quickly, I suggest that since he’s bigger and stronger, he should pedal and I’ll straddle the book rack in back. So we do this. But when he gets control over the bike, he starts showing off and dips down onto the sloped sides of the canal next to us, wetting the wheels a bit. I worry a bit the first time he does this, but not enough to speak up and protest. He does it again, but goes deeper. This time he loses control of the bike and we go down…our bags, the bike, and all.  I (a dream Self sort of “I” who seems more able to remain immune to many of the physical laws of nature) am not wet, but he has ostensibly drowned or had a heart attack or something. I drag his body out of the water, but it looks waxy, yellowed and waterlogged. I’m sure it’s a corpse now and not a person, so I go about worrying myself with the condition of my belongings in my backpack.  I salvage things and continue my journey.  But there’s a medical doctor who finds my hitchhiker and lets me know he is still alive. He doesn’t come right out and admonish me, but does suggest that his chances of being more than a vegetable would have been considerably improved had I called for help immediately upon pulling him from the water rather than leaving him to be discovered who knows how much later.

Grace in Small Things 244

  • due to almost daily rain showers that cool things down after sweltering days, I am easily surviving the summer with only a weak window unit and a couple of fans
  • seeing TWO different orioles at the feeder–a male and female…will offspring visit later?
  • another sighting of the extended goose families; now the young are barely distinguishable from the parents
  • that my downstairs neighbour brings my garbage can back from the curb when she brings hers; I return the favour on recycling day, toting her red and blue bins back where they belong
  • finishing a book that made me THINK, really think, far beyond the limited mental fiefdom of my own experience