All is said and Done

Epilogue, part 1

When we settled in at McDonald Creek, we found that where there had been a TV in the cabins before, there was none. Oh, my. We found ourselves missing our TV, Sports Center, and, it turns out, the internet. The people in the next cabin over were really missing their Reality TV, apparently. As they walked past our cabin window, they couldn’t help but stop, quite intentionally, to peer in and see what we were up to. For a good long, uncomfortable while. As if it were a perfectly normal, polite thing to do. What’s wrong with people?

The big pane glass window became an easy surrogate for our TV, as we watched the people go by, gazed out at the creek and pondered J’s Mustang. Not having a TV, not having insistent white noise in the background or a continuous barrage of information took a while to get used to. We quickly slowed down to enjoy the birds singing at dusk, the swallows flitting about above the lake, the sweet perfume of the lilac bushes around the cabins, and to find comfort in the sounds of the creek, the rain on the roof and the click and creak of the electric heaters in the darkness of night. There’s purposefulness in the manual engagement of doing dishes into a small dish rack and having to wipe them to clear off a space on the dining table to work, rather than letting them air dry. Thankfully, there’s time to slow down and decompress, and we know well enough to take it. It also lets you consider the possibility of the new. And no matter what things you miss from home, no matter how far you are from home, where you ARE, is home.


Epilogue, part 2

With all the rattling, I gave it a week, but within 48 hours of being home, J put the Mustang out to pasture back at the local Ford ranch.

Old Yeller is no more.

My Roaming Bear now has new wheels:

New wheels Click to see this photo's flickr page

With 4-doors and more cargo capacity and leg room, we’re just itching to take it out for a spin. Somewhere, out there.

The dusty trails call.

Headed back home

J and Chico at JWK's

On our way back, we stopped through Priest River, Idaho, to visit Jim Kline, a high school teacher of mine. We took a hike with him and his five dogs (Bonnie, Emma, Chico, Muttley and Penny), enjoying a great romp up and through the property. We had hot chocolate inside, and caught up more and surveyed the garden, as Old Man Kline brushed out his dogs. We packed into the car, smelling of dog, promised to not wait so long for the next visit and headed on our way back home.

We stayed at the same hotel in Spokane as we did on our way out and managed to find yummy Thai food as well, a little bit of comfort food after a few days of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.


Mount Rainier

From Spokane, we stopped by Mount Rainier. We tried to see the meadows at Paradise and Sunshine while there, but the entry roads at the parks were closed, still not open for the season. Drat!

We drove on and had dinner in Salem, Oregon then got back on the road. We ran into alternating 5-mile stretches of road where Oregon has the freeway under construction. J’s three most hated words? “Construction Zone Ahead”. The slower speeds dragged out the drive. Although it’s all lovely, the scenery is much the same in the dark, after all. We pulled into Grant’s Pass, after another long, long day.

Driving south our last morning on the road, the lush forests of Oregon thinned and we could tell we were getting closer to being back home in California. As if to welcome us back, in Yreka (right at the border) there was one last clump of California poppies still blooming, well past its normal spring-time season, waving at us along the side of the road. A few more miles later, the oldies station played the Beach Boys’ “Surfer Girl”. The types of cars, license plates and rising temperatures all confirmed: Yep, we’re back in California!


We decided to improvise a bit and drove through Lake Tahoe on the way home. They’re doing road construction there, too (we have this knack for finding construction on our way home)!
We had lunch at the Blue Agave at Tahoe, devoured some chips and salsa with our lunch, and supped up some mightily fine margaritas. A bit later, we stocked up on calories, sugar and caffeine at the Nestle’ Café at Heavenly, then headed home along the 395. The late afternoon sun caught the hillsides and cast long purple shadows, and our approach to Mono Lake was luxuriously bathed in … sunset.

Lunch in Tahoe and sunset along the Sierras? Can the BigBear deliver? [sigh]

Unfortunately, the High Sierra Café, which everyone knows is open 24 hours a day serving up their incredible Chicken-Fried Chicken, was closed when got to Lone Pine. Closed?! We were horrified! … and very hungry! We found a couple of burgers and headed onward. We got home at 2:30am, unpacked the Mustang, and plunked down in our bed, dead tired.

The next morning, we squinted in the bright sunlight that flooded the living room and considered the 80-to-90 degree weather of the day ahead and quickly set in to enjoy the comforts of home: our own coffee, shower, kitchen and best of all, our own washer and dryer.


Dirty Laundry

Mmmm, home sweet home.

===
What? It's over? Catch all the photos here.

My Roaming Bear

Along the hike to Ptarmigan

East Glacier

The view at our Swiftcurrent cabin

Moving along: The road trip continues...

After staying three days at the west side of Glacier National Park, we drove over for another three nights at the east side. The road that directly connects the two, Going-to-the-Sun Road, goes over Logan Pass and gives visitors access to more hiking and, of course, spectacular views. We’d checked the progress of the snowplow crews ahead of time and crossed our fingers that they’d finish before we got there. But, unfortunately, the winter was unusually tough this year, and the pass wasn’t open yet.

We drove around via the route to the south and arrived at our cabin at Many Glacier/Swift Current. After enjoying the luxuries at McDonald Creek, our micro-cabin had:
a sink (ie. no toilet or shower), bed, table, two wooden benches and one upholstered chair. Spartan, yes, but it was as we remembered it from the last trip, so there were no surprises. And the heater in the cabin this time actually worked, so we certainly weren’t complaining.

We saw critters:
- About a dozen rocky mountain goats far above us along the Ptarmigan/Iceberg trail
- A bear sow nursing her cub on the road driving away from Many Glacier Lodge, also high up on the mountain. They were very aware of the crowd, far below, but seemed very content
- A hawk flying over the river at the Park entrance at Saint Mary, then returning to its nest, with a fish!

Even the Mustang, for all its woes, managed to get some reassuring love - While driving into the Saint Mary park entrance, the park ranger stepped out to fully appreciate our Bright (almost gamboge) Yellow car from California and said, “Love the car! Come on in!”, waving us in with a hearty laugh.

J remembered a great meal we had during our last trip, and without much trouble, we found the Snowgoose Grille and had an incredibly savory dinner of bison meatloaf with red wine and mushroom gravy. Was it that good? Oh my yes. My eyes are rolling back in bliss just at the memory. Certainly worth writing down to remember to share with all of you, that’s for sure.

Driving back from dinner, we saw a herd of about 50 not-so-wild cows, meandering along the roadside, enjoying their dinner as well.

The food and the critters, though, all take a backseat to all the hiking available on the east side of the park. From our cabin, we hiked along the Ptarmigan/Iceberg trail twice, the second day going as far as Ptarmigan Falls. We stopped for lots of photos and enjoyed a nice warm day.

Our last full day there, we woke to a grey morning. We had breakfast and, feeling not so inspired, took a nap [Hey, we're on vacation - we can take naps if we want to].

We woke with more motivation and set out to hike the trail to Grinnell Lake. While you can take a ferry across Lake Josephine then hike to Grinnell, it’s far more scenic to walk along the lakes, through the firs, spruce, and lush meadows.


Trail to Grinnell Lake - looking back

... and looking ahead

I recall the first time I visited the park, I had the very distinct thought, “Boy, if I were a grizzly bear, I’d live here!” I know there are bears at Yosemite, causing mischief by rummaging through cars and campsites at night. But at Glacier, the bears aren't punks. There’s far more open space, and lots of roots, berries and grub for bears. Not surprisingly, we saw lots of evidence of bear feasting: lots of huge piles of scat. They made sure there was no question at all - we were traipsing through their territory.

J would stop and set up to take photos of the landscape and people would always ask if maybe he was shooting some critter far off in the distance. "What'cha got? A bear?!" They were always so disappointed to hear that no, he was taking a photo of “just” the (gorgeous) scenery.


Jan capturing Grinnell Lake

From my hiking book, 'Best Easy Day Hikes: Glacier and Waterton Lakes':
The luminous aquamarine color of the water is derived from glacial flour, a finely pulverized rock sediment suspended in the lake. As sunlight enters the water, it is diffracted by the suspended silt so that only light in the blue and green parts of the spectrum can escape.

Just gorgeous...


Our last evening at Glacier, we dined on popcorn, microwaved at the gift shop at the lodge, huckleberry saltwater taffy and Choco-Taco ice cream treats. We sat outside the lodge and watched both people and the weather pass by. Clouds and mist would waft through, a few wisps at a time. As night drew deeper, you could tell that a storm was a’brewin’, and sure enough, we slept to the sound of rain on the roof of our micro cabin.

===
Did you just get here? All the photos are here.

The Road Trip: Why?

Perhaps you are wondering why we were so intent to drive so far?
Were the photos of Lake McDonald not enough? Here’s a bit of the view out our cabin, along McDonald Creek.


Staying right at the Creek

You step out the cabin door, wander over about 15 feet towards the creek, and it looks like this:


McDonald Creek


We were finally able to swap time in the car for some time on the trails. We hiked to Avalanche Lake, stopping a couple times to take photos. At the Lake, I blocked in a quick sketch of the mountains across the lake with their waterfalls, but sensed that I had become a bit of a spectacle, people peering over, trying not to be obvious in their attempt to see what this drawing person was drawing. Or, maybe, not really even worrying about being obvious ("Oh. Look what she's doing. I'm going to go see").

Okay, so, I’m not real keen on being a public spectacle.
At least, not without being paid.

I packed up my sketchbook and we turned our attention to gobbling up our granola bars. Thankfully, people aren't so excited about peering over to watch other people eat their granola bars.


AvalancheLake

The next day was grey and we let ourselves have a slow, late start, enjoying the luxury of being able to make our own breakfast.

We worked out at Moving Image Health gym at Columbia Falls (and you thought we were just sleeping-in-late, lazy bums, didn't you? Ha!) where J has gone several times before while staying at Glacier. It turns out the owners are selling the business, retiring after 20 years. While we were there, there was a steady stream of local members, moms with kids, people coming in for the tanning beds, all sorts of people. The shower rooms (at least the women’s) was cozy and homey, with toiletries and towels supplied, in case you didn’t remember to bring any. You can't beat that kind of hospitality!

Connie, the owner, seemed happy, but not surprised, to hear that we’d come from so far. She said they got a lot of out-of-town people on vacation coming to work out at the gym. She mentioned a visitor from Australia who’d been in the week before. The gym had just raffled off a gift basket for the Relay for Life. A gift basket filled with booze. Apparently, lots of booze. The Australian dude sees the basket, on display atop the check-in counter and, his eyes bugged out, “What the heck is that?!?”. His girlfriend later told Connie that they knew they’d picked the absolutely right gym to work out at.

The gym raised $700 from the ticket sales for the basket of booze.

I picked up a local paper, the Flathead Beacon, after reading through the reports from the week’s police blotter. Here’s a pretty typical sampling, verbatim:

Tuseday, June 9:
11:12 a.m. Someone in Columbia Falls feels as if he is being harassed by a neighbor. In reality, however, he is not actually being harassed.

3:50 p.m. Someone in Hungry Horse was peering through a neighbor’s windows and noticed that a dog had been alone in the home “all day and all night”. [I had to wonder what's the crime here? The dog being left alone? Or the person peering into the neighbor's windows during the day and night? Hmmm!]

8:21p.m. Four miniature donkeys continually run amok in a neighbor’s yard.

10:18 p.m. An individual at a local diner took one bit of his steak, claimed that it was “rotten” and promptly stormed out without paying. He was later located in a gully behind a nearby box store.

Thursday, June 11:
1:09 p.m. Several individuals have taken up residence beneath a cellular tower. Their presence is unwelcome.

5:17 p.m. A small herd of horses was running down Highway 2. Authorities facilitated in an efficient round-up.

2:29 a.m. A father managed to corner his daughter’s boyfriend in her room. Evidently the wily youth likes to sneak in late at night.

I had to stop reading there, not even finishing the rest of the week, when I slowly realized that these crimes, collected from across the county, were probably nothing compared to the mayhem that we suspect happens back home in California, just in our block, alone.

Lake McDonald

==
See McDonald Creek and more, here.

Glacier National Park

Arrival at our cabin Click to see this photo's flickr page

Our road trip continues:

Five days after leaving Southern California, we were finally on our way in towards Glacier National Park. We stopped in Columbia Falls and stocked up at the Smiths:
Bratwurst, bread, strawberries, eggs, mustard, spinach, tomatoes, mushrooms, cereal, oatmeal packets, milk, chocolate chunk cookies and York Mint patties.

We forgot to get extra water and cheese.

And beer.



Lake McDonald

We trundled on and arrived, finally, at Apgar Village, on the West side of the park, and celebrated with huckleberry ice cream. Sitting outside, in front of the rooms that faced the lake, we watched the clouds clear and the sun hit the hillsides and trees. A brass quartet (?) was practicing over at one of the docks, playing the same chorus over and over, sometimes together, sometimes just one instrument, improvising a bit. The music would be clear one moment, then haunting the next, echoing through and across the lake, much like the patches of fog that would form here and there along the lake, then roll mysteriously towards shore.

There was rain, then clear.
We had beer, then slept.

===
All the photos are here.

A rattling noise

Flathead Lake, Montana Click to see this photo's flickr page

More from The Road Trip:

We settled into Newport, Oregon, content to be like the town: quiet and sleepy.

The car, though, had other plans and started to make a rattling noise.

It was a Saturday and there sure weren’t any auto repair shops open on Sunday. We had to decide: stay and get the car checked in Newport? We’d be behind one day, though. Or, drive ahead so that we could stop in a larger city, like Portland or Seattle or Spokane, to get the car checked there?

We gritted our teeth and drove on.

We drove East from the coast towards Corvallis, passing small farms, idyllic in the lush peacefulness of the morning. The cows looked very content; none of this “Happy Cows come from California” business.

The further east we drove, the less grey it got. When we got to Interstate 5, we turned North. The car didn’t seem to mind the freeway, its rattle silenced by the faster speeds and straighter route. We passed through Portland, then Seattle, then Bellevue... We discovered that in Washington, the Rest Stops have snack bars, staffed with real live people!. With hot coffee. For free! Most stops also offered homemade cookies for a donation, tended by what looked like the local kids. We sure didn’t mind making our pit-stops along the way in Washington.

We drove until Spokane and found a hotel, very, very late. The next morning, J would take the Mustang in to hear its (and our trip's) prognosis.

As is often the case, at the Ford dealer, no one could reproduce the rattling sound, even though J drove around and around with them. The mechanics inspected the car and said it shouldn’t explode to bits or konk out on us. We squinted in our doubt, but somewhat reassured that the car wouldn't explode, headed on.

We were in Idaho briefly as we passed through the skinny panhandle part of the state and headed further East, stopping in Flathead Lake, Montana. So very close to Glacier National Park, but ready to just call it a day. We managed to get a room that looked out onto the lake. We spent some time, our cameras set up to take a photo of a great sunset over the lake that never quite materialized. With the steady sound of rain on the lake, the long, low horns of ships and the songs of birds at twilight, we slept very well, straight through sunrise.

===
All the photos are here, including a few more shots of Flathead Lake.

Up the Coast and then turn Right

TrinidadBay1

We drove north until Redding then headed west for the Coast. I didn’t realize that the 101 went all the way north! We stopped along the way, roaming as we do, through bays and beaches. We stopped for lunch at Trinidad Bay, had a great sourdough bread bowl of clam chowder and wandered over to the bluffs above the bay to take some photos.

What a great sunny day.

Down below us, a sea critter was lying, just where the surf met the beach.


TrinidadBay2_critter

We thought aloud,
Me: “Is it sleeping? Or is it ...”
J: “... dead?”.

Simultaneous grimaces.

A flipper lazily moved and we both thought, “Whew, just sleeping”.

Our thoughts lifted and we enjoyed the quiet of the town, the sound of the surf, clang of bells and rigging lines, the birds and creaks as people moseyed along the pier. The hillsides were covered with wildflowers, all so different than I’m used to, all the more different, new and delightful.

Redwoods1

We spent just a bit of time driving through the Redwoods. I didn’t realize that there’s no real camping and that the parks and forests are preserves. No long, all-day hikes on trails that criss-cross the land? No, I guess not. We took a few short walks on trails, enough to really enjoy the greenness of the ferns that grow thick and lush beneath the majestic redwoods.

Lots of ferns means lots of moisture, and to me, this means blood-sucking bugs! Bugs!! We enjoyed our quick visit and drove on. Places to go!

As we drove further north, we finally got into country where huckleberry grows. And where huckleberry grows, huckleberry ice cream is sold!
A sign commanded, “Avoid calcium deficiency; Eat Ice Cream!”

Who are we to disobey?

---
All the photos are here.

Up out of the fog

June apparently was an unusually cool month here in Southern California. After being away in 60 degree temperatures, and now sweating through the high 90’s, it’s hard to remember that.

Last summer, I took an online travel writing class. I enjoy starting online classes! It’s the finishing part that’s a bother. Since there was an actual certificate for completing this particular class and since this meant that there were required weekly tests, I actually stuck with the entire class. By the time I finished the class, we’d already done most of our travelling for the summer, and I was disappointed to have let it all slip by so quickly, so mindlessly.

One of the books that I discovered through the class was “The Way of the Traveler” by Joseph Dispenza. It’s helped me prepare for this summer’s travels and to really focus on documenting what’s going by on the side of the road and what’s going by inside my head. So, although I’m having a hard time remembering how cool it was just a month ago, I do have 16 pages of notes in a little Moleskine pocket sketchbook to remind me.

We left my meeting at school and drove off into the cool fog that hung late that afternoon and set off headed north. We eventually rose out of the fog just past Santa Clarita and enjoyed driving through hills bathed in the sensuous waning golden rays of a typical California sunset. We passed through fields and farm; the actual identity of the shadowy critters and crop unidentifiable in the dark.

We drove through Sacramento (one of several State capitols that we’d pass through in two weeks) and at almost 2 am called it a day and settled into a hotel in the next town north. It was the first of many long days; long in time and in distance.

Bleary-eyed, I noted with amusement that all the toiletries were packaged to be succinctly marked, yet still very refined. Containers marked:
Smooth (conditioner)
Cleanse (soap)

And even the pillows were embroidered along the hems of their cases: Firm, soft.

As my head hit my pillow (Firm), I thought, “If only the rest of life could be so well-defined.”

Foreword : Forward

Click to see this photo's flickr page

We’ve wrapped up our road trip to Glacier National Park, all except for documenting the photos and putting together a scrapbook (which I’m hoping this will kick off). The last few days were busy with scurrying back and forth to pick up last-minute travel-sized items for a two-week road trip. The day that I’d planned to start rolling up my clothes and cramming packing them into my duffle, I also checked on my laptop. The thin plastic skin that covered my battery for my current USB modem was bulging out and looked ready to explode, so although it still worked well, I ordered a new model. When it arrived, I figured I’d make the swap and be good to go.

My laptop would have nothing of it.
Nothing.
I encouraged it, nudged it, begged, smacked it and cursed.

Nothing.

I spent the last two days before our trip not exactly packing as intently as I’d wanted, frantically going to two laptop repair shops only to confirm the nasty horrible prognosis:

I needed to reinstall my operating system.

Ugh! I methodically backed up my data and, biting the bullet, reinstalled my operating system. I glumly stared at my laptop, then glanced at my disheveled duffle bag and backpack and thought, “Ugh!”

The Windows CD stopped spinning as it completed installation of the operating system just minutes before we needed to leave for my last meeting, from which we’d head out onto the road. I spent the first few nights on the road reinstalling software and making sure I could reconnect to the internet, a barebones, but working, stopgap for the full productive connectivity I’d hoped for.

A few more days in, lazily staring out at crops that we were passing by, I realized, of course, that had I waited until we were already on the road to switch over to the new modem, I would have been completely sunk. I wouldn’t have had the Windows disks and software. We’d be hauling around a hefty black Dell brick, totally unusable. So for all the inconvenience and stress, it’s just as well things happened the way they did. And, amazingly enough, I did still have all the system and driver disks to take along, as well as all the software disks, too. I’ve finally, almost 4 weeks later, installed the drivers, and my laptop is about where it should be. Things all work out, in the end.

There was also something remarkably liberating about the idea that my laptop is new, a chance to organize my files better, install just what I need and use, and to move old files directly into archives.
Sometimes when it’s really least convenient, you find that what’s best is to start all over; nothing’s quite working as efficiently as it should anyway. New things aren’t fitting in and you can’t even get to the old stuff to reference or enjoy it. It’s a great leap of faith to know when you’ve really backed up all that you need to, to place your hands on the guiding programs that you’ll need and then go, “Okay, let’s start from scratch!”

And life, I thought, not just our computers, is like that.

Having to grit my teeth and clean my slate was a good challenge to go through, and a fitting foreword to the trip, to Glacier and hopefully, to the rest of the summer.

Gone travellin'

On the road again

Just can't wait to get on the road again

The life I love is makin' music with my friends

And I can't wait to get on the road again

On the road again

Goin' places that I've never been

Seein' things that I may never see again,

And I can't wait to get on the road again.

On the road again

Like a band of gypsies we go down the highway

We're the best of friends

Insisting that the world be turnin' our way

And our way

Is on the road again

Just can't wait to get on the road again

The life I love is makin' music with my friends

And I can't wait to get on the road again...

We’re out on the road, driving long days that have landed our car in the shop right now, enroute. We’ve been looking forward to getting away and know that we’ll get to where we need to be, soon.
Will there be internet connection there? I dunno. We’ll see. I have a daypack full of sketchbooks and paint kits to keep me distracted, either way.
Peace out!

Yosemite

Mirror Lake Click to see this photo's flickr page

I realize that I’m almost a year behind in posting notes about our trips. Oh well. I'll work in real-time and catch up with older posts as I go along.

With the end of the school year, we (J in particular) start to get wanderlust, our feed itching to get out and onto the trails.

J’s camera stopped working last spring during out Yosemite trip. He was very disappointed and bought another one immediately after we returned home. Our trip this month was his first back to Yosemite with the new camera. After looking over the photos from last summer, he’s taking more time in setting up shots and taking photos at even more multiple settings, to better his chances of capturing the landscapes optimally. This means he takes a little longer at each photo stop, which means I finally have enough time to settle in and do very quick sketches and take notes as well. Our overall pace is slower, but the hikes are far more enjoyable.

With our stops and the spectacle of J’s humongous tripod, we struck up more conversations with other hikers. J, he likes to enjoy people, truth be told. Me, I tend to prefer to be left alone. We chatted with a couple from Europe, on a three-week stay in the US. They were intent on settling in at each place, enough to soak in everything, rather than rushing through to see a list of highlights in a tour book. We agreed that we liked this approach and traded notes on where we’d all visited. J commented that the man’s English (he was German, she was from Italy) was quite good; the man commented that J’s English was quite good, as well! Ha! The woman and I both rolled our eyes: This off-the-wall sense of humor is universal too!

We ran into a geology buff that was quite knowledgeable about the formations of all the features of the park. Lots of history. Me, on the other hand, I’m thinking, “Oh, look at the textures in that big slab of granite!”

The best line I overheard was while we were packing up to head downhill from Vernal Falls. Several groups of hikers had converged and had stopped to checked their respective maps to plan where they were heading next. One jovial group heaved their backpacks back on and headed off. As they were trotting away, I heard, “Oh man, I can’t reach it. Shoot. Can you reach in and grab my banana?” He stopped his hungry train of thought and all we could hear was the crunching of the path as they continued walking. “Oh. Geez. That didn’t sound so good”.

Photos and sketches from Yosemite, here.

Hug a Teacher

20090503_Hug_a_Teacher Click to see this photo's flickr page

Did you know this is Teacher Appreciation Week?

- Teachers put together individual AP exam baggies, sharpening all those 120 pencils and adding in LifeSavers, for good measure.
- Teachers take homemade cookies, granola bars, fresh grapes and juice packs to their students the weekend they're putting together their graduation show, because we know that the cafeteria is closed on Sundays, and that that last Sunday is a very long, very tough one.
- Teachers write letters of recommendation.
- Teachers write letters of recommendation for students to attend graduate programs that perhaps we should be attending, ourselves.
- Teachers stay up late, writing tests and answer keys.
- Teachers stay up late, grading those tests.
- Teachers stand physically tough, when their school is under siege.
- Teachers stand emotionally tough, when their school is under siege, sometimes from within.
- Good teachers know not to show bias and encourage kids from the other, rival schools. Even when they beat our own students.
- Teachers stay late to understand what it is that makes each student special.
- Teachers stay late to meet each student's parent that comes for Open House night.
- Teachers worry about budgets and funding, about standardized testing, about tuition and scholarships, about enrollment, about graduate job placement opportunities.
- Teachers have to stand and field questions like, "Was is worth it? Was the price of this education worth it?" and hope that we've trained our students well enough to be willing to try to answer all the tough questions that will come through their lives, for themselves.
- Teachers discipline, comfort, focus and, hopefully, inspire.
- Teachers shape our future.

So maybe today, or maybe at the end of the school year, show your appreciation. We appreciate the flowers, the chocolate, the Chai Tea mix, the sweater (?), and the fancy desk pen sets. We have a growing, very mismatched set of "Hug a Teacher" coffee mugs.

The one thing that teachers will keep, though, tucked away in our year books is this:
The letters of thanks.

So do this: Sit down and write a letter to show your appreciation. Be generous with your gratitude. Did your teachers inspire you? Did they make a difference?
Yes?
Let them know.

Words out in the wild

The Lockless Door

It went many years,
But at last came a knock,
And I thought of the door
With no lock to lock.

I blew out the light,
I tip-toed the floor,
And raised both hands
In prayer to the door.

But the knock came again
My window was wide;
I climbed on the sill
And descended outside.

Back over the sill
I bade a "Come in"
To whoever the knock
At the door may have been.

So at a knock
I emptied my cage
To hide in the world
And alter with age.

- Robert Frost

I haven't read as much as I would have liked, but have certainly enjoyed more poetry this April, National Poetry month, than I have in a very long time.
I particularly liked the images from Poets.org FreeVerse project (the Flickr group pool is here). What a fantastic idea, huh? :)

Find more poems for your pocket here: www.poets.org/pocket

Conference marginalia

20090425_WDC_notes

I attended a district design conference which was held in Santa Monica, right here in LA. There were a lot of good talks and great ideas to take away from two days worth of presentations. After each of the past few conferences, I’ve tried to track down articles that might summarize either the salient points or maybe describe the overall experience, going beyond the presentations themselves.

Lots of people take notes (or in this particular case, since they’re designers, maybe they’re drawing…), but I don’t know how well any of the information gets shared, back at the office, if at all. I’m trying to decipher my own notes and hope to be able to share at least some of the meatier thoughts with my colleagues. We always wish that we could get digital copies of the presentations, but would that really help? The longer I wait, the harder it is to recapture the sense of urgency and passion of the speakers.

I found this on a table in the back of the main room and had to stop to take a photo of it. I’m not sure what it says about the attendee or the speaker. At a casual glance, I admit, it doesn’t seem to speak well of how things might have been going on-stage. After musing about it for a couple days, though, I think this represents the best part of conferences. You can’t predict or capture the marginalia – all the side conversations, chance meetings, and random thoughts that the presentations inspire.

It’s tough to get everyone together and involved in a region as vast as Los Angeles, but it's clear that it really is a small community. There was a lot of catching up, shaking hands, trading hugs and/or punches on shoulders, and talkin’ smack challenging neighboring offices to basketball games.

Good times.

Spider's Web

20090330_knees Click to see this photo's flickr page

A Noiseless Patient Spider

A noiseless patient spider,
I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

- Walt Whitman

Find more poems for your pocket: www.poets.org/pocket. Choose one and carry it in celebration of National Poetry Month!

This is the first poem I landed on when picking a Pocket Poem (enough alliteration for you?). I love the imagery of venturing and seeking connections, building bridges across the emptiness. Some days it does feel like I’m flinging myself out there, casting lines to see what and who are out there. I’m delighted at all the wonderful art and writing I’ve found, the people I’ve had a chance to connect with. People have always said that it’s a small world. Perhaps the world is as broad as it always has been, but the distances between us certainly aren’t as difficult to cross.

I got home last night and plunked down to watch the news. J asked if I had heard about this huge big-rig wreak that happened here in Southern California. I saw the images and immediately knew, “Oh, that’s Foothill Blvd.” And then, thinking back on my day, I realized that I had thought about stopping by Descanso Gardens to pass the time on my way to school. My drive would have likely taken me past that intersection, about the time of the accident. The news reporters’ voice broke through my train of thought, talking about the bookstore that the rig had ploughed into. I thought out loud, “Oh, that’s someplace my buddy Karen would hang out”. And then, I blinked and thought: Oh no. Karen. I hope she’s okay.

I sent a hurried email, and thought to check Facebook. Karen is okay. Whew. But the bookstore, indeed, is where Karen has her artwork on display. She suspects the worst for her paintings, but we all feel even more sorrow for the lives lost, the businesses and livelihoods suddenly impacted.
Karen's post here.

For all the actions and decisions that we make that lead up to events that we might have been involved with – but weren’t – the reality of being connected to people who are involved reminds me that our world remains so very big, but our connections, no matter how far the distances we cross, are very very close.

==
I had been thinking a bit ago about lightfastness of some of my watercolor pencils. Will some of these fade unacceptably quickly in the light? Should I really just work with pencils that I know won’t fade? It’s tempting to want to use something that is rated to be lightfast for 50 years, maybe 100? Another artist obsessing about materials.

And now I have to think, “What the heck? ‘Lightfastness’?!?” The only fastness we should be concerned about is the rate at which we get to our work and enjoy the process. We can (and should) create art, no matter what it is that we’re using. In creating our art, we commit more deeply to our processes, and through that, we create and more deeply commit to ourselves.

===
I’m not sure if anyone new is stopping by here, following some of the lines I’ve cast out in the past months. I’m not sure who is still hanging out, peering into the fridge, wondering if there’s anything new. I’m a bit tired (and stiff) of sitting, watching in silent reverie and am casting my lines out, to see where they might stick and connect.

Say Hello, won’t you?

What I've been up to

Cereal Box Book Click to see this photo's flickr page

8 things I’ve been up to (and where you might fit in)

A new friend of mine, Joanna Young, has a very nice blog, Confident Writing. She helps readers find their own voice, allowing them (or, us) to produce writing that is authentic, that comes from the heart. It’s hard sometimes to have confidence in putting our words out there, to push the “Publish” button. How do we trust that we have the confidence to express ourselves clearly and truthfully? Sound like anyone you know?

Joanna challenged herself, and us, to just list 8 things we’ve been up to, and to share. I have a new friend, Ulla, whose post I really enjoyed. I decided that if Ulla, whose first language is NOT English, can share her thoughts so bravely - - in English - - , I thought, well, I could certainly come up with a list of what I’ve been up to, to update everyone here.

I’ve been:

1. Looking for work. There’s a lot of that going on. My really great new job came to a sudden and jarring halt, as the company went through ‘economic readjustment’, even before I had a chance to gush about how good it all was to everyone. It’s kind of like having a fantastic new boyfriend you want to tell all your friends about. Just as you’re getting ready to do that, he disappears. Forever. It was kind of like that.

2. Teaching. I teach business practices: resumes, cover letters, interviewing, networking. The irony of teaching this AND having to go through it myself? It’s a little humorous, I guess. At least I can chuckle about it. And at least these are topics that I think about often. I’m also working on committees, thinking about faculty involvement in governance. What’s the future of design, the future of the school, and how do we get there?

3. Building community in the local design community. I’m a local chapter officer for the professional industrial design association. There are meetings, of course, to put together panels of guest speakers, and planning very casual social mixers with goofy/fun design challenges. Building community is difficult, especially in a city as large as Los Angeles, where the distances we would have to travel, all by itself, is a major hurdle to gathering everyone in one place. Like any other good relationship, we’re building it, one person at a time.

4. Social networking: LinkedIn, Twitter, Facebook, Flickr. They each have their particular strengths. I’ve heard people say that Twitter is like a cocktail party; Facebook is like a high school reunion. With Twitter, there are lots of random conversations and you can wander around and hear lots of things, simultaneously. Snippets of exchanges of ideas, in real time. You can join in or lurk.
With Facebook, it truly has been a high school reunion, reconnecting with people I already know, sharing photos of all our kids, our vacations. Who would have thought that the simple act of wishing an old friend “Happy birthday!” would be so satisfying?

On Twitter, I’ve found myself enjoying the company of career coaches, writers, artists. There are lots of interesting, different, every day people that I’ve met. I also follow celebrities like Andy Bumatai, Cesar Millan, NASA, and a couple TV news stations here and in Hawaii.

Oh, and the Phoenix Mars Lander, too.

It’s compelling, almost addicting, sharing in the every day things and thoughts everyone has: Going for a great cup of coffee, procrastination, frustrating days, lust for Johnny Depp, looking forward to the weekends. All in 140 characters or less. You might not expect it, but you can form very supportive relationships, one little bit at a time. From Twitter relationships, I find myself wandering over to new websites, blogs and Flickr streams. There’s a tremendous amount of great thinking and writing out there, and fantastic art and photos to look at.

5. Being creative and doing art every day. Since I have more time in my days (sigh), I can draw and smoosh paint around. I’ve been playing with different media and different brands. My quest to put the ideal everyday mini drawing/painting kit has actually evolved through this experimentation. Now, if I could only find my ideal everyday handbag to put it in, I’d be set! I took a collage class in the fall and have been enjoying doing collages and putting together my strange version of ... well, just click to see the first cereal box book, so far, on my Flickr stream. And here are the collages.

6. Writing. I took a few writing classes and am playing with the romantic notion of doing travel writing. J and I could record and share our adventures. What do you think? It’s one of those long-range plans we find ourselves talking about, working on a little bit at a time, in no terribly conscious way at all. We just keep doing things that we love and it seems to be pointing to have us look at this particular path. So, to be proactive about it, I’ve been trying to be more focused with my writing, be more compelling. The fun and sometimes challenge part is to encourage conversation, to see what appeals to people.

I’m doing a book review for Joyful Jubilant Learning as part of their month long “A Love Affair With Books”. I’ll be honest here: With visual art, I’m reasonably comfortable putting out whatever it is that I do (as far as you can tell! What could I possibly be editing out and not sharing?). It’s a far different task to put together words that you know a whole different group of people will read. It makes one very self-conscious. After I clicked “Save” and “Send”, I was happy and very proud to have finished my contribution. The next morning I awoke with horrible thoughts, “OMG! My paragraphs – they’re just TOO long. Yuck! What have I done?!?!”

See the entire month-long collection of reviews here.

7. Reading, or more accurately, listening to audiobooks, via Audible.com. I’ve recently ‘read’:
Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, Quiet Strength by Tony Dungy, and Memoirs of a Geisha (and finally rented the movie, as well). I’m currently listening to Charles Kuralt’s America, read by the author. I like to listen when I’m stuck in traffic, soaking in new ideas and imagining different places and times. I’ve been listening to a few lectures on meditation by Pema Chodron, too, but, obviously, not while I’m driving.

8. Rethinking my blog. I’ve been struggling for a while with the questions of “why” and “what it looks like”. I’ve been thinking of figuring out a better format for organizing my blog and content. Although I struggle with it, I still like the idea of maintaining this venue to share and connect, keep up with friends, and to find likeminded people. I like Facebook, Twitter and Flickr, but those, separately, don’t add up to what I’m aiming for. I’m mulling over how to go forward with TheFridgeDoor and how to get back to regularly sharing content, providing food for thought and conversation.

Where might you fit in?
Share of yourself, generously. Here, and in other blogs. Keep the conversations going....
So tell us, what have YOU been up to?

It makes sense at the end

20090304_headphones Click to see this photo's flickr page

Holy smokes! I just got slapped with a wet salmon - really - I have not updated this since last year... You would not believe my anguish at my misdoings. Not just a second one.

I am caught inside with a weight-lifting regime, rock crushing, just generally being a companion to anyone unfortunate to cross my path, my day starts from dusk to whenever. I am avoiding recapture. but who cares.

I swear on the bones of my ancestors I will blog about it when I find my way home. Go with God, good friends. I will write more to certain yous; but it might not be you in particular who I write to...

---> Thanks to Lazy Bloggers Post Generator. Go check it out. It will all make sense. I promise.

Lines, but no words

20081205_sp_fac_lounge Click to see this photo's flickr page

It's not like I haven't had the words and ideas flitting around in my mind, or the want to reach out. I just haven't had much of the want to sit down and write. You know how that goes, right?

It's February already?

“You must have a room, or a certain hour or so a day, where you don't know what was in the newspapers that morning, you don't know who your friends are, you don't know what you owe anybody, you don't know what anybody owes you. This is a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be. This is the place of creative incubation.” - Joseph Campbell.

I was typing a comment over at Jane's blog and was horrified that I actually had to *think* when it asked me for my ID name and password. I decided against thinking that maybe my short-term memory was going bad, since, heck, it’s February already and a whole huge chunk of time has indeed gone by.

I was going through my RSS feeds this morning, and one post was titled “Unplugging the Fridge!”, and I thought, “OMG. Someone is actually harassing me to just stop it all!” No, I don’t really imagine that all of the world revolves around me, not all the time, anyway. It gave me a pretty good start, though. Because I know you’re curious, it was a post arguing against giving up on the refrigerator (apparently some eco-conscious people are giving up the fridge, as a badge of commitment. Eco-consciousness. And where would they put up their kids’ artwork, then?).

I also happened upon this today:
"We are not cisterns made for hoarding, we are channels made for sharing." - Billy Graham

So, I have to apologize. I didn’t mean to harass anyone into feeling like they’re supposed to comment, make you feel guilty, although the conversation is really nice to have, isn’t it? And, I didn’t mean to piss anyone off, that’s for sure. There was, well, stuff and more stuff, and then, on top of that, huge busy-ness along with the everyday insanity of life. The summer and fall seem like a blur. I found myself pretty much wanting to enjoy a good lo-o-ong dose of anonymity, hibernation.

I’ve been enjoying everyone else’s blogs, though, as best I can, appreciate your comments and have been really grateful to have reconnected with some old pals. There are great celebrations, and continued struggles, and I feel a bit of remorse in not being an active part of the community. To be truthful, it was also gnawing away at me to think that that last post would have stayed as the post at the top, the one people read when they first found themselves at my blog, and, well, what an incredible downer: that just won’t do.

I do have a bunch of stuff to catch up with. Sadly, I find myself with very little free mind-meandering time anymore, and it’s been hard for me to sit and download photos or scan sketches and upload stuff on Flickr. But, I’m trying to wrestle back some time to sit and draw. In time, I hope to figure out how to add back in all that daydreamy wandering around, too, as well as running and yoga. If I could do these things in my car while I’m commuting, I would. Seriously. No, really, I would.

So, anyway, thanks for being there (or, rather, here) and coming back.

Oh, yes, I’ve been working, making things like this.

"If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water." – Loran Eisely

And yes, I am still with the big ol’ bear.


Holiday Party! Click to see this photo's flickr page

We’ve been busy practicing for that new Olympic sport, synchronized shrimp tempura eating, don’cha know.