2 chiens jouent La Valse des Puces au piano AKA The Flea Waltz

Two dogs play the Flea Waltz on the piano!

Coffee with Old Robin

It was barely light this morning when I put breakfast out in the Bird Park but Old Robin was already there enjoying an apple. What's very cool is that she didn't fly away when I opened the door. She hopped off a bit but then turned to watch as I filled the water and scattered the goodies. That was about 15 minutes ago.

We're now on the third shift although the demographics have changed at bit. The crows are back, sometimes even beating the magpies to the table but, for today at least, Old Robin gets the Early Bird Award. Otherwise, and every morning, the crows and magpies swoop in first then, about 10 minutes later, the grackles arrive along with a smattering of starlings. That order is fixed. At least so far, Old Robin's presence is seasonal and intermittent. And, of course, the quail make their appearance at some point, a few pigeons drop in, including a lovely couple of mourning doves and last, but of course not least, the finches arrive. They are here on and off all day and the quail who come and go in waves. Lately Old Robin has been around a good part of the day, along with a second robin she chases off, to no avail. And, yes, the Seven O'clock Magpie checks in through the day on a regular basis. She is the most loyal of all.

And, while I'm on the subject Bird Park wonders and special events, yesterday at dawn a crow watched me silently from the peak of old Dick's house as I put the food out. I heard his talons click on the roof as he dropped down from the sky but I pretended I didn't notice and he didn't get scared off. Woo-hoo.

So that's it for now. If you're a regular here, you've probably read similar rundowns before. Sorry about that. I just felt the need to write some words and this is what's happening outside my window. At this point, everyone has come and are already gone except for Old Robin who has all the apples to herself again and she is taking her time. She's at that last cup of coffee part of breakfast when you're full but want to stretch the moment out as long as possible before launching into the day. And so am I. Well, I haven't had my oatmeal yet but it is time for one last cup of coffee. So, have a nice day. Good chatting with you.

Etude leaves the garage

Etude developed a soul warbling songs in the dark to the mice for weeks after being thrown in the trash. I felt very sad when the little fellow finally grew silent. Naturally, I assumed he'd died.

Etude's return

Etude 02.24.12

I'm shocked. Etude's back!

Conservative Chickens

Looking for something to go along with your morning coffee or whatever? Rolling Stone's Matt Taibbi just published an excellent article on the Electric Conservative Paranoia Acid Test. Check it out.

Predominantly Inattentive

That's me. Predominantly Inattentive. I keep going back to this because the term is a relatively new update to the ADHD thing and fits me like the proverbial missing piece. As for strategies for "afflicted adults"? Wikipedia covers that here.

If I could just call my mind back to attention with a dog whistle fine.... but I'd keeping changing where I keep the whistle and sometimes forget I have it at all. Which isn't to say ADHD-PI is the same as Alzheimers but hey, they're not mutually exclusive. Woo-hoo. On the other hand, maybe I should get a whistle.

Anyway, truth be told, the real reason I did this post today is because I wanted to use this photo again. I took a few years ago at Comma Coffee . The bits of mirror were, at the time, pasted on the wall. However now, in the light of the PI addition, it's really the most accurate photo I have of myself.

Now back to the tasks at hand.

Red-eye

1:30 A.M.
Reluctantly the metal beast shudders up and above a sudden spill of sleepless iridescence, lagoons of gold, pockets of blaze, sprawling tendrils of light trailing off to coals glowing in the dark then a few scattered embers then they also vanish and there, traversing the interstellar night, the edge of our planet and her lovely moon who is, at the moment, gazing at her reflection on my window. Hello Moon. But before she can answer our reverie is interrupted by the arrival of the steward bearing peanuts.

________________________________________

I found this entry in one of my notebooks the other day. I wrote a while ago and totally forgot about it until now. Don't be surprised if it has changed if you happen to drop by and read it again later. That's how things go around here.

Bird Park Wish List

If it weren't for the damn CC & Rs, we
could have a fine fellow like Mr. Kung Fu around
to greet the neighborhood gangster cats that have made
the Bird Park their own personal Nevada casino style dessert buffet.

Meet Mister Kung Fu Rooster.

Mexican standoff at the brain drain

Writing doesn't come easy to me. It's generally a miserable experience trying to get a sentence or two straight, real work on my part, but then concentrating on anything for long is hard. My attention is as divided as a swarm of bees working a meadow. Naturally this kind of thing has a diagnosis. There's a diagnosis for everything isn't there? And thanks to Big Pharma, there is a drug to conveniently "manage" it but I have no interest in living my life high on speed. Okay. I am always battling my inertia, but cycling, walking, weightlifting, swimming etc., along with my improvised version of mindfulness, however imperfect, are way better than that. As ol' Zeke would say, it's a better way to live.

As you might guess, this blog is one of my regular stops in the meadow. At the moment I am taking a break from two other tasks that have pressing deadlines and are locked in a Mexican standoff.

In other news, breakfast was a huge event in the Bird Park this morning. Only now, the quail finally wandered off giving me an opportunity to restock the apple treats since a chattering of starlings dropped in and ravaged them.

Okay. Gotta go.

Clippy

Ah, little Clippy. How I miss you.

Fuck the Smithsonian Magazine.

Whew!

Medium of communication

"Taking this as a warning, the superior man forestalls a violent collapse. If a man were to pile up riches for himself alone, without considering others, he would certainly experience a collapse. For all gathering is followed by dispersion. Therefore the superior man begins to distribute while he is accumulating." I Ching, Hexagram 43

I have been warned. Actually, "advised" is a better word and I am grateful for the nudge. The I Ching is a trusted mentor.

Of course, I understand if you dismiss any online "ancient Chinese oracle" as a mere computer game. When I first found it, I had my own reservations. I've consulted the I Ching for years but via the book and coins. I'm not a  purist. They don't even use coins, preferring instead traditional yarrow stocks but, tempted by convenience, I experimented with the online version and gradually it has become my main, go to, source. After all, binary code is just another medium of communication.

So, the question for which I received  Hexagram 43 (excerpt above) was, "Why is writing so hard for me?"

A few words before sleep

Once again, I crank the wheel and roll the page forward. It's night, 9:01 to be exact. Was. That is all.

Sirenia Shadows

After watching this video from Build by Wildman forwarded by M. Lee, I'm thinking it would be a step up to come back as a manatee or dolphin. Also, nice track from Palace Of The Innocents by Glitch Mob.


Sirenia Shadows from Built By Wildman on Vimeo.

Happy Squirrel Appreciation Day

If you've been thinking about baking a peanut cake for the neighborhood squirrels, today's the day. It's Squirrel Appreciation Day.

I decided that a good way to appreciate squirrels would be to register the Bird Park with the National Wildlife Federation. That would make it a certified wildlife habitat but when I got to the final step the NWF wanted twenty bucks. Plus, I travel a lot and being Mother Nature to a world has to be a full-time job. Ah well. Maybe later.

Anyway, happy Squirrel Appreciation Day. Now go appreciate some squirrels.

Outtakes, San Francisco 01.12

San Francisco from Oakland Hills

Chinatown conversation

SF Chinatown

Angry Bird & Co.

Woman in black, SF Chinatown

Chinatown apartment bldg.

AA Cafe, SF Chinatown

Buddha and dragons

Stop SOPA and PIPA.

503: Service Unavailable

Fade to Black.

On Wednesday January 18, 2012 thousands of sites, including Wikipedia, Craigslist and this outpost border crossing will be dark. This is in protest because the US Senate is considering internet censorship bills, SOPA & PIPA. If either one of these bills passes, your favorite sites could disappear forever.

PROTECT IP Act (PIPA) would put anyone in legal jeopardy who linked to a site anywhere online that had any links to copyright infringement. And Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) would, to put is simply, completely gut and unmake the Web.

We don't want the world that would leave us in. If you don't want it either, visit AmericanCensorship.org for instructions on contacting your Senator. The Electronic Frontier Foundation has more information on this and other issues central to our freedom online.

This is the largest online protest in history. Join in by blacking out your site and urging everyone you can reach to contact Congress now.

For more info also go here, here, here and here.

PROTECT IP / SOPA Breaks The Internet from Fight for the Future on Vimeo.

News at 3:52 PM

Time to roll this thing forward. We're in So. Oregon at the moment and driving to the Bay Area in  the morning. More family business. A couple of years ago M. Lee's sister had a sudden, baffling break with reality. For her own safety, we had to move her out of her apartment and into assisted living and ever since, and till death do us part, we must monitor her care. It's been a couple of hard years for her but the good news is lately things have been getting better. New meds, thanks entirely to M. Lee who never gives up.

Generally this is a turn around trip but this time, after such a sad Christmas, we're staying a few extra days for some RnR. We've rented a house by Lake Temescal in N.E. Oakland. It's a million dollar place M. Lee found on AirBnB. It costs less than it would to stay at our usual crappy, noisy, worn out motel. If you haven't heard of airbnb, check it out. It's definitely a game changer.

Oh, and happy Martin Luther King day. BTW, what's up with it being in January? January is a crappy time to have a Day. Who wants to go to a BBQ in January?

Moment before dawn

Burfi by Srivalli

6:43 AM: Breakfast is out. The world is quiet. The Bird Park emerges from the dark. I am waiting for the birds to arrive. This morning there is burfi.

7:16 AM: Even the grackles came.

No One Sees You Like Your Dog Does

Jean-Paul Sartre Cookbook

Marty Smith

.
Credit goes to M. Lee for digging up this article posted by Paul Vincent Spade, Professor of Philosophy at Indiana University. I did a little research on its author Marty Smith. Seems he's currently playing guitar for the Portland band Slutty Hearts. The Free Agent, one of Portland's many fine but unfortunately now defunct alternative newspapers, published it in 1987 and Utne Reader, now Utne, republished it in 1993. Maybe to appreciate it you have to be a depressive type like me but I think it's hilarious.

The Jean-Paul Sartre Cookbook

Happy New Year!

Buon 2012!

Thea Bella, Madonna of the Bath

Even in this sad time there is light and joy. Thea and her Mom are visiting us for a few days. Funny how I so naturally think of my daughter as her mom but there you have it. The generations roll on and so do the years so here's to all Raphael's angels. Felice anno nuovo!

Jim

"How strange a vehicle it is, coming down unchanged from times of old romance, and so characteristically black, the way no other thing is black except a coffin—a vehicle evoking lawless adventures in the plashing stillness of night, and still more strongly evoking death itself, the bier, the dark obsequies, the last silent journey!" -Thomas Mann

M. Lee's Dad passed away two days before Christmas.
At his Mom's request we disassembled his music room.
Gig over. It was a bleak obsequy.

At twelve, Jim played bass in the Chicago Symphony.
At fifteen, and well on his way to 6'9", he played
professionally in Chicago clubs but from
behind a curtain because he was white.

In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco
and caught the end of the 50s North Beach Bebop scene.

Elvis wanted Jim to join him. So did the Jefferson Airplane.
He refused. He was a purist.

He left the Baby Grand to Nolan,
his piano player for the last forty years.

WINTER
for Joe & Jim

In the evening we
carry down our dead
they leave our hands willingly
above Dog Star watches
cold, white
as on ancient evenings,
Dog Star
bringer of rain.

excerpt from Dead Reckoning by asha

Winter Solstice 2011

Okay. It's nearly midnight but I don't like to see a Winter Solstice pass without wishing you a good day and new year. Of course this Solstice marks the beginning of the final countdown to the end of the Mayan Long Count Calendar (5125 ears long) and some say the end of time and life on earth. It's always something.

And tonight I learned that Al Linde, an old friend, died about a week ago. Seems he was on blood thinners following knee surgery in preparation for the new baseball season, suffered a freak accident blow to the head and just bled out. WTF, Al?!

Submissions Update,12.11

To date, of the six poems I submitted in October, two have been rejected (with comments), two remain unanswered (I'm assuming rejected) and two were accepted. After the first of the year, I'll send out more. 

'Road's Eye View', a poem I wrote in Mexico a few years ago, was recently accepted by Sein und Werden for publication in their January online issue dedicated to Futurism. Sein und Werden features work that is "experimental, non-genre, erotica, horror, philosophical, noir, crime, hard-boiled, surreal" so cool. The deep night voices from that seaside swamp found roost.

Baxter Blackwell

Not Baxter
but you get the idea.
Source

Roy commented on a previous post that all my Bird Park lacks in complexity is a stray dog and complimentary dog catcher which brings us to the subject of one Mr. Baxter Blackwell. I take a lot of photos, some might say an insane number of photos of the passing parade, the Great Circus, the Theatre of the Absurd and Wonderful to which I say...why not? M. Lee has created what is, in practical terms, a Bottomless Pit of Storage and I have a fine camera so I take it as a personal responsibility to try and fill it. But, and I say this with much sadness and regret, I do not have one photo of the rag-a-muffin darling of our neighborhood, the fickle and fanciful, the wayward and whimsical, the ever and absolutely uncontainable hairy Houdini of scruffy little mutts, the one and only Mr. Baxter Blackwell (regrettably deceased).

I can't remember the number of times I scooped Baxter up and returned him to his home and family, who did not even realize he'd slipped out again only to see him, within the hour, trotting down the sidewalk on yet another walkabout. What mystery did he seek, this inscrutable lover of the open road? Was he driven by a mere doggie's thirst for adventure or was he under the glamour of a faerie spell? I tended toward the latter but, in any case, Baxter was a beautiful woolly gypsy soul. Whenever I saw him trotting by, whether or not I could capture him, I wished and prayed that the world were a safer place. Baxter was far too small and completely irrepressible. Unfortunately, it didn't end well. Not long after his death the couple divorced, sold the house and moved, as we say in these parts, back East. Happy trails, Baxter Blackwell, wherever you are.

Fatty report

Not Fatty the Hawk but
another Fatty from last year
just before he snagged and
devoured one of the finches
enjoying breakfast
in the Bird Park.

We've had a blue sky cold week here in Nevada, just the kind of weather that drives birds to the feeders but Fatty the hawk has been hanging around so, for a couple of days, everyone stayed away. Fatty's a saucy little fellow. I invited him to go elsewhere but he was totally unimpressed. All I got for my effort was a "One step closer, girlie, and you're mine" look and an impassioned pitch from M. Lee about Predator Rights. I know. Hawks get to eat too. I'd just prefer they do it somewhere else. I don't like it when any of my bird buddies gets eaten alive. Finally Seven o'clock Magpie, the Bird Park's self-appointed magistrate, took it upon herself to make Fatty's life miserable enough that he stayed away until late yesterday afternoon and so far today he hasn't showed up at all. Now, if the damn cats would bugger off...

Common ground

Note to self: G'ville is hosting annual Festival of Lights this evening. When we go out tonight, do everything possible to avoid it.

I'm just now watching a couple of finches duke it out in the Bird Park in yet another late afternoon food fight. They get intense when seed levels drop to the bottom hole. Plus it's cold out there. And in here. I'm bundled up. Even my hair is mashed under the blanket. I am immobile as a giant winter doll, other than the freewheeling fingers typing these words. It took a few goes before they agreed to tap out "words" rather than "worlds". In the meantime, it seems to me that the repeated hard drives to the letter "L" scared the finches off. In spite of all their chest bumping, they are timid fellows.

Now, balancing along the fence top, the quail covey makes its twilight return to scratch and peck the remains of the day.* Three of them linger at the water bowl awhile then wander off to nibble the apples. Gray fat birds fading into eventide.

*All due respect to Kazuo Ishiguro.

Last Day of November and Submissions Update

Welcome to the last day of November 2011.

I am reluctant to see the month pass as it means that the very fine photo calendar of Baby Leo's first year is coming to an end. At this point Baby Leo is well into year two and goes by the moniker Mister Leo. That's all good but god it goes fast! Anyway, good morning or, as they say in Norwegian, God Morgen!

Last night we returned home from Oregon where we spent Thanksgiving. Of course the 7 o'clock Magpie was at the Bird Park bright and early for breakfast...as always. And, as always, the rest of the charm did not show up. It generally takes them a couple of days to figure out that I'm back. She and her mate gobbled up as much as they could and then spend the rest of the morning stashing the remaining peanuts and kibbles around the yard for later. I think of her as a magpie genius, which is quite a compliment given that magpies are already, not only one of the smartest birds, but also among the most intelligent of all animals. Among other talents, they are the first non-mammals proven to recognize themselves in the mirror. Facial recognition is a big deal, especially for birds. When we were kids, my brother's blue parakeet Chi-chi, may he rest in peace, spent an awful lot of time cooing and nibbling his tiny mirror. Clearly, the little dummy believed his girlfriend was the two-dimensional floating head in the glass. Whether or not Chi-chi's relationship in anyway resembles online obsessions will remain a discussion for another day.

In other news, I just learned that Pele, one of the poems I submitted in October to The Fine Line, was accepted and will be included in its upcoming fourth issue. It's a digital publication so unfortunately no complimentary copy but they do post a free download of each issue should anyone care to print one out. Not me but I do appreciate the recognition. And to their credit they accept reprints, which I consider god damn enlightened. So, now Pele has been published twice, once in Skidrow Penthouse, which is a print publication and does pay with copy, and now in The Fine Line.

Tofurky Day

Happy Thanksgiving!

Don't worry, my love. We're having tofurky.

Lily Shreds!

Pure joy in motion...

Lily is awesome.

When Science becomes Art or 25 Ways to Tie a Scarf

I am a great fan of neck scarves but, until today, did not know the Science of the Well-Tied Scarf, then M. Lee sent me this delightful video in which Wendy turns science into art.

25 ways to tie a scarf

For more fashion wizardry check out Wendy's Lookbook and her YouTube site for some and cool hair tutorials.

How to avoid meaningful work and meaningless despair

In case you happen to be doing NaNoWriMo this year, Paula over at Lite Motifs has posted a list of things you can do to avoid working on your project. Her suggestions are very useful, not only for NaNoers, but for anyone wanting to distract themselves from pressing and important work. And, as distraction is my special area of expertise, I felt compelled to add a couple of ideas to her list. They work. I myself managed to waste today's precious last hour of daylight drudging them up and writing this post.

For starters, try this zippy but soothing video of guys getting left behind when the International Space Station reboosts. Then watch and re-watch it again and again and again for, you know, as many times as you can stand it.

And if you still need more, because if you're looking for more you've already watch an ungodly number of cat videos, there are always surfer dog videos. I include them as a special homage to dear little Bella the happy dog, recently departed. Surfer dog videos are like popcorn. You mindlessly want more, even during times of deep despair when life is slipping through your fingers and you are crushed by an overwhelming sense of meaningless tedium and you are least able to remember when you last had even one fleeting second of fun.

More surfer dog videos.

We just got back from Southern Oregon. We were there to attend a going away party for a longtime friend who is moving to Portland which is located far far away at the other end of the state. About 150 people showed up. It was very nice. Everybody loves him. He's a sweet guy. And we saw lots of old friends. After the slideshow, whoever wanted to shared at the mic and the event took a decided turn, becoming more a memorial than farewell roast. The fact is, he is dying. Everybody knows it. Nobody mentioned it but most of us realized we will probably never see him again. Life. We are now entering the part where, one by one, we begin leaving the stage.

And I got a rejection (with comments) from The Fine Line, one of the magazines to which I recently submitted poems. In case you're wondering, a rejection with comments is preferable to getting a rejection without one. I submitted two poems to this particular magazine. The other is still "in progress".

Rest In Peace, lIttle Bella

Tarra & Bella

Remember Tarra and Bella, the elephant and dog who were inseparable friends? Bella was the flamboyant little stray who showed up at the Elephant Sanctuary in Tennessee about eight years ago and she and Tarra, the Sanctuary's founding elephant, quickly became completely devoted to one another. Last Wednesday, as Sanctuary residents often do, Tarra and Bella spent the night in the hills. The caregivers at the Sanctuary believe that Bella must have briefly wandered away from Tarra's side and was attacked by coyotes. Of course Tarra rushed to her rescue and drove them off but, sadly, Bella died anyway. I don't hold it against the coyotes. They have to eat too but Bella, sweet sweet Bella, I mourn for her and Tarra and the purity of the love they shared.

The following day, caregivers noticed Bella was missing, she's always near Tarra so, fearing trouble, launched a search for her. They found the little dog's body by the Asian elephant barn Tarra and Bella share with a few other elephants. During the night Tarra had carried her friend home.

Happy days

More Tarra and Bella videos here.

BP Update

In case you're lying awake nights wondering if the little birds rediscovered the Bird Park, worry no more. They have and all is well again. Even the crows dropped by for breakfast the other morning. They are really quite impressive. Even the impertinent magpies show them respect.

======================

Just so you know, the tip of my left index finger has a painful splinter blister on it which I nevertheless endured to type this report.

Back to the starts right direction

You know I'm with Willie on this one.

Wonders big and small

Baby Leo & Thea Bella at the Oregon coast.
Photo by Kristiana

I'd sure like to know what wonder Baby Leo is expounding on to his cousin, Thea Bella. From the looks on their faces, it's gotta be good.

Bird Park report

The magpies showed up for breakfast the morning after we got home but, though the feeders are full and waiting, the little birds still haven't caught on that we're back. :(

Jiggity jog

Home again, home again but, as I've mentioned before, it doesn't exactly feel like home. Base camp again, base camp again jiggity jog. This concludes the trip begun in May.

Ridin' the Dog

This is the first post from my new Droid and my first post from a Greyhound bus. I just spent the week in Portland, first with my friend Kimberlee and her two-year old son Reid then with Thea Bella and Baby Leo who is no longer a baby but an exhuberant toddler. Reid was a doll and first class traveler. I say that after sharing a room with him and exploring Portand with him and his mom via mass transit. Thea Bella is heartbreakingly sweet, smart and beautiful and, at 14 months, Baby Leo is a story teller, soccer champion and wild man. More on them later.

I am loving my new phone but I can't quite say the same thing for the Dog.ù Well, it's not too bad, better than tolerable, an ok way to pass an afternoon, but not exactly "fun“. The quality changes with the passengers but the seat is really comfotrable. However, at the moment there's a good old girl chatter box in the front seat who hasn't drawn a breath since she boarded in Eugene. The driver doesn't mind. He's a rolling talk show host expert in the fine art of passing the miles. We learned during the Portland to Eugene leg of the journey that he's been driving for 37 years. He talked about some of the crazy things that have happened on his bus over the years, stabbings, shotings, births, heart attacks, naked people jumping of the windows. Anything and everything you can imagine has happened on his bus although he made a point of explaining these shenanigans are confined to the lower 1% but spread out over 37 years even 1% adds up hto a whole lot of crazy. A French speaking magician type, black top hat, vest and pants, white gloves barded in Eugene. So far, no rabbits.

The Upper 1 Percent

"WE ARE THE 1 %"

Traders at the Chicago Board of Trade verbally mooned the rest of us, the 99 %, with this sign in the window the other day. The irony is that so many middle and lower income people still support Wall Street by voting for its lap dog Republican and Tea Party politicians.

Screw the bloody bastards.

Update, Saturday Oct. 8:
We're dog-sitting Heidi for some friends who are currently vacationing on the East Coast. They ended up attending the Occupy Wall Street demonstration in DC and, as it happened, got interviewed by a reporter from the New York Times. He is quoted in the opening of the article:

“There’s a lot of people here with different ideas and various causes,” he said, “but I think that the bottom line is that we feel we’ve surrendered our nation to a corporatocracy.” - Gary Wood, Minden NV

Well said!

Heidi says: Way to go, guys!

Steve Jobs, RIP

I tried

Señor Pierna

Yay. I was worried about him. The one-legged magpie showed up at the Bird Park the other day. He's traveling alone. After watching for a few minutes I saw why. Two magpies still hanging around from breakfast, 7 and her friend who keep their eyes on the place all day, pounced and pummeled him. I broke it up and he came back later on his own but what a drag. Magpies are a rough crowd.

He's a persistent fellow though. In fact, he landed on the fence just now. The breakfast bunch left about 10 minutes ago. He's enjoying sunflower seeds. Oops. I spoke too soon. Heidi, who I'm dog-sitting for the next week, just wandered into the Bird Park.

Ok. Reset. Heidi's back inside. I tossed out a few more peanuts and he's back. This guy needs a name. Señor Pierna. Mr. Leg.

7 o'clock Magpie, faithful as she ever was

Yay! The 7 o'clock Magpie just showed up. That's my girl! She's a bit late this morning but hey! Other than a few days a couple of weeks ago, I haven't been here for five months to put out her morning peanuts so that's pretty good. I may be a bit obsessive but, when she hadn't arrived by 7:05 AM, it did cross my mind that something terrible might have happened to her but, barring injury or death, I never doubted for a second that she'd be by for breakfast. She's knows I'm good for it. We've got a thing.

Note to future self

The Gathering a photo by ashabot on Flickr

Home. It doesn't feel like it. I've been mostly gone or coming and going since last March. Five months. We got back this afternoon from the loop to Seattle for my high school reunion then Oregon to see family and friends and now... home. It's a strange word. I filled the bird feeders, picked up the mail, watered the cactuses and now, before trundling off to bed, have checked in here.

Hello. That is all for now.

Reunions and the point of no return

Seattle. We're staying in a great basement apartment on 92nd for the next couple of nights. M. Lee found it on AirBnB, which is the place to look if you want cool, cheap lodging. I'm here to attend my high school reunion tomorrow night. I'm a bit apprehensive. I was a total outsider so it's not like I'm here to re-live a lot of happy memories but I grew up with these people and, even though they are all basically strangers, I am interested to see some of them again before, you know, we're all dead. Also, and on a coldly voyeuristic note, there is a delicious ghost-like, time-travel quality to reunions that adds a curiously attractive twist. I didn't go to the big cocktail party get together tonight though. M. Lee and I had veggie pho at a tiny pho house on Capitol Hill instead. It's been a long drive wrapping up our summer travels, Nevada to Centroamerica to Florida to Seattle with points in between and today's leg of that journey was enough for one day.

Also some of the people from my Catholic elementary school days want to meet for brunch tomorrow before the Big Event but I'm passing on that too. And after brunch a few of them are going to visit some of our teachers at the old nuns home. It would almost be worth it to see them without their habits. They were always so mysterious in their black Bride of Christ head to toe robes, stiffly starched white bonnets, collars and huge crosses with the limp body of Christ nailed to the huge crosses laying where their breasts should be... but not this time... and probably not ever. I don't believe in putting people or animals in zoos, for Christ sake. I don't have anything to say to them. I'm not Catholic anymore. I'm not even Christian any more. It was bad enough visiting the Dallas Krishna Temple. They all want to believe you still belong but you don't.

Touch down and take off

Tonapah's legendary ghost,
the Lady in Red

I just got back from my bi-annual weekend in lovely Tonopah, semi-ghost town and still and always, Queen of the Silver Camps. Once again, the guy ahead of me in the hotel check-in line won the Tonopah Station lucky roll of the dice free room. I did not, again. But the Big News from Tonopah is that somebody finally bought the Mizpah Hotel, probably for pennies on the dollar, and the place is scheduled to reopen in a couple of weeks. I hope they do better making their deadline than the Belvedere Hotel across the street. The sign announcing the Belvedere's 2008 reopening still hangs on the front of the building above the broken windows, fading into oblivion. This trip, I counted more broken windows at the ol' Belvedere but was puzzled by the lack of pigeons who normally reside there. I am not going to say foul play? No. I will not even think it.

Anyway, the Mizpah wins my Tonopah Zombie Hotels Back from the Dead Award (for the day) so my hat is off to them. I hope I get a chance to tour the place before it closes again. I have been photographing it through the windows for years. I really want to meet the Mizpah's legendary Lady in Red who tragically, in a crime of passion, was murdered on the fifth floor back in the 1920s. It's not because the new owners claim she leaves pearls under people's pillows. I dig ghosts.

Tomorrow we leave again, this time for points north. Got to have tea with Ms. Thea Bella and Baby Leo. I realize I'm pushing the limit still calling Leo a baby now that he's turned one, but come on... I've hardly spent any time with him. Once he starts walking I'll stop. It won't be long. These days it's all he wants to do. So, our odyssey Cross Country American Road Trip (Florida and back again to Washington and back again) won't be officially over until mid-October when Kimberlee, Mr. Reid (he's two) and I do our Portland meet-up.

So, what the hell am I doing fiddling around with my blog? Must. Pack. Now. See you on the road.

The 7 O'clock Magpie and Battlelines Drawn

Here's what's amazing. The 7 o'clock magpie showed up this morning at 7 o'clock. This is our first morning back after an absence of four months and she is still coming to the Bird Park at 7 am to check for peanuts. Yes, peanuts were waiting. Naturally, the first thing I did when we pulled in last night was fill the bird baths and feeders and put some peanuts on the table. Some hornets have colonized one of the empty feeders so they get to keep that one (I'll toss it when they move out this winter) but I filled the other three. That's enough for a start. Anyway, how 'bout that magpie?

That's the good news.

The bad news is that it just about took the jaws of life to jack myself back into my office this morning. The shelves are always crammed and bloated with stuff giving the room that WALLS_CLOSING_IN feel then last night I cluttered what precious little work space I do have with the things I brought in from the car... laptop, tablets, notebooks, various writing instruments, books, camera, sun glasses, phone etc. plus the different bags I carry everything in. And the tiny floor space has been reduced to a single channel connecting the door to my chair where I sit marooned in this flotsam of projects unfinished, current and yet to come. It's paralyzing. Must dig my way out. Must organize.

When we were driving across the country, anticipating this encounter and wooed by that special camaraderie born of the road, I invited M. Lee to help me gut my office and reorganize this winter. I may regret that. He is way too eager to help but I am already crushed by even the idea of tackling this. After all, the stuff is not to blame. It is my own self I must wrestle and tame, or at least cut a new deal with. As it stands, my mind has colonized my refuge from it. No one else can stand up to me but me.

Trip notes

We're in Kingman Arizona for the night. One more day and we'll be home but I'm really missing Florida. I miss Alligator Creek, the little house and the pineapple palms and I miss Frida Kahlo the squirrel and her friends. I miss all the critters who sing in the night. I miss the egrets and ibises. I miss the congregations of little plovers scurrying in and out with the waves. I miss watching the squadrons of venerable pelicans pass overhead, wings outstretched, gliding the thermals like ancient gods. I miss the Great Blue Heron who likes to people watch at the beach. I miss the friends we discovered there. I miss the gulf.

I am reading 'Love in the Time of Cholera' by Gabriel García Márque as we drive across the country.

When we were in Dallas the other day we ate dinner at Kalachandji's, the very excellent vegetarian restaurant at the Hare Krishna temple. I lived at that temple many years ago.

Must sleep now. We have to drive through rush hour in Las Vegas tomorrow morning.

Frida Kahlo the Squirrel RIP

This is a post I did not want to write. I've been putting if off for weeks as though writing it would make it so. But we're leaving Florida in the morning and heading back to Nevada so it's time to wrap things up around here.

Frida stashing a nut

I am very sad to report that Frida Kahlo the squirrel is MIA and almost certainly dead. And I'm feeling pretty guilty because I played a part. I've been feeding a lot of squirrels and birds all summer and, of course, the inevitable happened. A hawk noticed and started hanging around. Then Frida vanished.

Frida stashing a nut

She's gone. It's been weeks. We both really miss her and feel the great big empty place she left behind. That probably sounds odd. After all, what kind of relationship can you have with a squirrel? But we got really attached to her. Frida had moxie. I'm embarrassed to use that word, it's corny, but it fits her. Every morning, while the other squirrels were busy chasing each other around the yard arguing over who could have a peanut, Frida was busy licking then stashing all the peanuts, one by one, into separate hiding places.

Frida enjoying a morning peanut.

And when I threw peanuts down from the balcony, all the squirrels took off except Frida. She'd look me in the eye, cup her hands and wait for the toss.

Frida ascends her pineapple palm.

Then, once everything was done and tucked away, she'd scamper up into her pineapple palm to savor a peanut in peace. No one dared approach her in her tree. Frida Kahlo the squirrel was like Frida Kahlo the painter... as they say... una perra nacida... born a bitch.

Frida Kahlo savoring a peanut in her favorite pineapple palm tree

That tree was hers and hers alone, and even though she's gone, it's still empty.

Ghost of Frida Kahlo visiting us.

That is except recently one morning. M. Lee call me to come quick to the window, that the ghost of Frida Kahlo had come back to say goodbye. It looked like her. It felt like her. And no, we haven't seen her since but I get the feeling that, wherever she is, Frida Kahlo is doing just fine.