Tipperary, PSAT, & Truffle Oil

What are you reading? I so much prefer that question at a cocktail party to "So what do you do?" Well, I'm reading lots of stuff: Blood & Thunder, The Origins of the First World War (surprise), and about to start reading a certain person's thesis, titled "Syntactic Strictures: Errors of Grammar, Style and Usage on the PSAT". How fun is that?
Blood & Thunder tells me that New Mexico was violent and dangerous to live in even before the Cerrillos Road corridor was built. But pretty darn fascinating and beautifully written. Finally I read it, after 825 people told me to. Thank you, Elizabeth.
And what are you cooking? Made a fun little pizza last night with truffle oil and arugula and sheep's milk cheese. Oh, and an egg on top for me.
And what are you listening to? A new favorite around here is Architecture in Helsinki (of course just the name is hard to resist), and I have a newly compiled CD of World War I favorites, quite good sound quality, in case anyone needs a stocking stuffer. It's bound to be this year's Cool Gift. And reasonably priced.

On the Road Again

Clearly I'm not gifted in the dailiness of journal writing. Tried, can't. So here I am close to 4 weeks after my last post, again in Chicago. Not in the library today, since the laptop accompanied us here. It's a conference, and I got to tag along. Well, I needed some new shoes, and Akira in Chicago is just the Best Place Ever for such projects. Yes, already went there and found much but bought only one pair. Such restraint.
Last night we dined with dear old friend Shane and his fabulous child Hayden, all of us (except H.) transplants from San Francisco. Tonight it's the free night at the Art Institute, so we'll be roaming around there for some time. This being in places so very different from San Francisco is something I think I appreciate so much more now that I'm older and not the roving college student. Is it about confidence or experience? For some reason I'm just more accepting of getting "lost", which I think is a good way of truly feeling one's way round a place. I like the challenge of getting out of the lostness. I guess it's another puzzle, like figuring out irregular verbs.

Abiquiu

Abiquiu in fall is dramatic in a different way. Very sharp light variations & all the sunflowers lining the roads have gone dry and brown, soon to collapse and return to the earth. And when the clouds obscured the sun it was really quite cold. Twist had to be on a long lead, because of his twice disappearing to hunt critters and not returning for Some Time. But Folly and Bodkin were happy adventurers. Folly goes off in one direction for a while and returns from the opposite direction. Magic. The water level is substantially higher than in the summer --- perhaps some volumes of rain since then from way upstream? The shoreline we occupied over the summer is under water now, so we pitched camp farther up the hill and tied Twisty to a log. Miraculously, he did not yip and complain. The water was tested by MCR with several strokes and two dunks under water. That was it. Even compared to SF Bay it was Way Too Cold. Welcome to the change in season. So we finished our picnic, packed up and climbed back up the hill. Really a perfect Sunday in Abiquiu.

Addendum: No Sazeracs

Plans changed, somewhat. Drinks and dinner were at Harry's Roadhouse, then a quest for a tattoo parlor ensued (not for me, truly), which was fruitless (tattoo parlor closed at 9 on a Friday night ---- good sign or bad sign?), so we regrouped and had to go to the Dragon for a manhattan, a cosmo, and the Yellow Pages. Lo, we found another tattoo parlor, which I thought I could nose our way to. Well, it's pretty dark here, especially on the fringes of town, and I didn't get actually lost, but let's just say I was misplaced for a few miles. Mind you, the friend I was "leading" has lived here for only a year, so we were pretty much living the blind parable. Eventually (with the calm telephone support of MCR who was in New York last night), I found my way back to civilization, whereupon my friend and I decided her tattoo wasn't meant to be last night, and we both took a rain check. We had fun, though. But I want to retrace my steps in the daylight and find out just where I went astray....

Is the Sun Over the Yardarm Yet?

It's Friday here in Santa Fe, too. I have plans to go to a cool watering hole, in honor of Friday afternoons in SFo. It's called the Dragon Room Lounge--- come on, what better name? And since it's an hour later here than in SFo, I'll be there, effectively, at 3 pm! Here's a photo of the Pink Adobe, wherein you'll find the Dragon. Hard to resist. Wait till you see the multiple tin and glass lanterns hanging from the ceiling inside.

I'll check tonight to see if they have Fernet. But my new drink of choice is a Sazerac, known as the father of all cocktails. Of course it's from New Orleans. Let's go there next.

Another October Red

Today I babysit the office since the others are off on busyness trips. Thank goodness for iTunes radio. I can listen to PlayClassicalUK with Mr. Lambourn while I update databases and other bits and pieces. Phone and email are quiet.
It's time now to find a ristra wreath for the car. The chiles are harvested and being roasted all over the place in various store parking lots. Big black barrels rotate over flame while people stand in line with enormous burlap bags of fresh green chiles waiting their turn for roasting. You see this all over town. The aroma is beyond belief. The ristra chiles are red, however, usually, traditionally, and when you see them hanging in quantity, some 2-3 feet in length, the effect is a magnificent experience of red.

Escape No More

The birds are eating us out of house and home in their October efforts to bulk up for the winter. They empty the feeders at least twice a day. At any given time there can be 20+ birds active around the 3 feeders. Big blue jays of various types tend to push everyone around, and the aspens are changing raiment from green to yellow. Something unfamiliar is a wonderful rusty red now. Last weekend we had to reinforce the back stretch of fence to keep Steve McQueen from escaping yet again. It was accomplished thus: we dug a trench along the base of the fence, about 5 inches deep. Then we unrolled a 2-ft. wide length of chicken wire the whole stretch of the fence, 1/2 of the wire upright along the fencing and 1/2 flat on dirt at a right angle to the fence. One of us staple-gunned the chicken wire to the fence posts, and the other hammered the chicken wire onto the dirt with large spikey things. Then we shoveled the dirt back over the chicken wire. Very very sore hands after all this. And of course McQueen found a spot on the other side of the yard to start digging a new tunnel in. It's time to call in the professionals and just line the rest of the fence with railroad ties and call it a day. Thank goodness our Steve has no motorcycle.

Birthday Presents

I now very nearly know my way around, and I'm graduating to finding Back Roads. Everything is circuitous here, few right angles, pretty much Old Word. I like that. It is a good exercise for delaying Alzheimer's, as well as reminding one that predictability isn't always a good thing. Oh, and I have a new bike. Well, a bike. Didn't really have an old one. It is a gift. I do love it. My first excursion was down the road to the oldest restaurant in Santa Fe, which we rather like. Alas, the road back was a slight uphill grade, and my unpracticed, sea-level constitution just didn't like all that on a bicycle at 7000 ft. So I now have bicycle homework.

Re-entry

Our firewood arrived one day after we returned from SFo. A cord of pinon and a mixed cord of oak and cedar. Stacked and ready (could that be a dubious film title?). Part of it had to be stacked near the property-line fence, so of course Twist decided it was a perfect climbing structure from which to launch himself next door and visit and neighbor's dog. So my assignment today, Saturday, among other important things, is to lower the height of that particular stack. I think bringing inside a fair amount of it will do the trick, as well as make the house redolent of pinon & cedar even before we light a fire.

I started this post about a week ago. Clearly, re-entry takes up one's time. For instance, we had a fabulous visit from 2 special SFo friends last weekend, and now we are back in the thick of regular existence, if it can be called that. Tonight is Back-to-School Night ---- you all know what that means!! The air has been deliciously cold & crisp in the mornings. And then it can be quite warm during the day. So now we get to shop online for "winter boots!" I have my eye on a few possibilities. Maybe 3 or 4. Could be a long winter.

My driving lesson on Thursday, yesterday, was completely enthralling, as usual. There is room for Nothing Else in my head when I'm driving a horse & cart --- just think about controlling a horse while also maneuvering a vehicle. Nothing automatic about this transmission. Maybe I'll take a photo of where I am next time and post it. Interestingly, my instructor is a pilot for his day job, and he loved my WW1 aviation calendar. When worlds collide. Maybe I should lend him my copy of the book Horses Don't Fly. I'll leave it to you to guess the Venn Diagram of that one.

September Thoughts

It feels a very long time since we left San Francisco and yet no time at all. So it appears that all this while we have 2 homes, both SFs. If we continue in this pattern, though, yet another home would logically be....San Fernando? Not going to happen. We're happy with 2. Especially these 2 because they're The Best.
So the birthday week wanes but peaks with seeing amazing, sweet, affectionate friends who could not be more interesting, funny, fun, and true blue.
You all give us the depth and length of real sustained friendship that both consoles and inspires. Haven't cried yet, but here it comes.

Fickle Muse

Yesterday, I swear, I had a brilliant inspiration for this post. The muse was there, but I did not write it down (Where was I? Not the car -- I'd write it down there.), and the fickle thing deserted me. I know the kernel was floating round my mind with the banner "Really Really Good Idea". Now it seems all I have left is the unoriginal musing on the muse.
In 2 days we revisit SFo, for the first time, with excitement, nostalgia, and affection waxing.

From the Road

In the big city now, in the very beautiful Harold Washington Library in downtown Chicago. Rather a switch from charming little SFe. But I've always loved the big cities as well as the little towns. Bookends, really. Walking along I noticed a sign for FLAX ---Flax! Drawn to it like a magnet I anticipated stocking up on all the lovely papery/inky things I think I need, but, alas, although it is the same as the one in SFo, it had shut and presumably moved to a more salubrious location. Well, just the sign alone was a tonic. Who knows what else I'll stumble on to bring back to the hinterland? Should I be stocking up for the winter, bringing back sacks of flour on the buckboard? Perhaps that's what the Internet is for now.
I go back home tomorrow; I miss it, however much I may enjoy the city for a while.

Sad Update

Alas, our friend Flicker died within 24 hours after arrival at the Wildlife Center. We received a letter with the news. Birds often do not do well when traumatized by large, well-meaning (?) creatures. Few of us do. So, farewell, very pretty bird. We have several of your feathers --- quite striking things --- saved in your remembrance.

License to Be New Mexican

We have finally received our NM license plate, long after getting library cards and driver's licenses, let alone the other accoutrements of citizenship. (We have voter ID cards here --- remember the flap about how Americans are too something to stoop to national IDs?? Obviously some Americans are more American than others, right Mr. Orwell?)
The plates here are in this pattern: ### ABC. Just like the California plate of yore, except in reverse. (Nostalgia for those old black/orange plates without commentary on them.) And here one can also get plates that 1)support the Lobos 2)sport one's combat veteran status 3)have hot-air balloons on them 4)have a simple green-on-yellow motif. We chose the 4th one. Maybe someday we'll be Lobos supporters, but most likely we will not acquire NM combat veteran status, and the balloon just isn't us.

Our Friend Flicker

In honor of the scarlet flash on either cheek of our latest wildlife friend, I write this in bright red. He/she is a Red-Shafted Flicker (a songbird), whom I found today being used as an unwilling toy by Folly-dog. Presumably the bird was wounded before (although no blood evident)because I can't imagine how else Folly could've gotten to her other than on the ground. Folly was most intrigued: is it a rodent with feathers that feel weird in my mouth? Fortunately, she's pretty gentle and obedient, so she left it when I told her to, and I could then pick it up. Flicker then was gently boxed and taken to the Wildlife Center about 20 minutes north, where they were most grateful and promised to do their best to heal her/him.
And just yesterday Twist had a little adventure next door, where he managed to squeeze his determined little self under a spot in the fence we weren't aware existed and proceed to ignore our calls for 45 minutes while he worried some poor creature deep in the neighbors' woodpile. Darn terriers. Once we located him (I'm considering belling him.), we extricated him with a firm grip on his tail, which is exactly what Patterdale tails are designed for. Finally put one part of him to good use.
The fence has been reccyed but good today and all even theoretical escape hatches plugged solidly.

Back In Time

Today I drove a horse for the first time ever. She is a sorrel mustang with excellent manners, who was rescued as a yearling from the abbatoir. Of course her name is Lady. (Just like one of Almanzo Wilder's pair: Prince & Lady) My teacher is named Mike and is quite elegant. We drove down a dirt road, then onto the macadam, in a little two-seat cart. The harnessing is elaborate --- I have homework to do before my next lesson a week from tomorrow.
It's so odd using only nuanced hands and gentle taps of the whip to send signals to the horse. For obvious reasons, there is no leg or one's own weight to communicate with. I also have to remember that it is indeed a vehicle with the original horsepower and that I have to watch where I position it on the road. It's almost like I'm 15 again and learning to coordinate a car. Learning this, however, completes my personal concept of a horsewoman: the ability to harness and drive a horse as well as ride astride. Yes, I wore a helmet. Even in NM we're careful. And I have to go buy my requisite brown driving gloves. Have to be brown.

Parallel Play

Here's a snapshot of a typical Sunday evening here in New House in SFe. One person is tucked into a large armchair in the living room, surrounded by dogs in various stages of repose. She has her laptop out, her earphones in, a 1/2-empty bottle of Gruet by her side, and is laughing & crying to multiple episodes of "Mad TV." The other person is in the kitchen making cauliflower soup. Her entertainment is a CD of Jane Eyre, read by Emma Fielding in a perfect Midlands accent. During occasional lulls in preparation she also pulls out her knitting while listening closely to Jane's thoughts on Mr. Rochester.
The soup is praised during dinner. One person is admonished for settling for an ordinary Chardonnay when she could be drinking tequila. Then there is post-prandial dog exercise in the front yard. The equipment consists of a tennis racket & pink tennis ball as well as a practice polo mallet. An overly enthusiastic dog narrowly misses being brained by the mallet. Polo ponies have a lot to put up with.
So the sun descends on a satisfactory Sunday in Santa Fe. Monday looms, but it will have its moments, too.

Living Well

Hints of fall today, both in light and in air movement and temperature. I started re-reading, again, Sara & Gerald, about my favorite Americans abroad in the '20s. Perhaps I feel something like a San Franciscan abroad these days. Sara and Gerald lived in Europe for quite some time, yet always remained Americans, in the best sense. I hope I remain a San Franciscan in the best sense, wherever we live.
Gerald talked about the invented part of life being the only part of real lasting value. He meant the creative part, the part one has jurisdiction over, not the parts of life that bowl one over, haunt and disappoint. Active creation and invention for not just oneself but for those one loves and respects is the lasting satisfaction in our brief existence.
Invention, however, is not an escape. It is taking the power and transcending.
Remember I jokingly threatened philosophizing in the last posting?

Yet More Storms

We're into August now, with some pretty bang-up storms. Yesterday, Sunday, we drove back from a day north swimming in the Chama River and headed directly -- quite visibly -- into a massive downpour, replete with lightning that looked to be just yards in front of us. Twice we had to pull over to the roadside. This was perhaps a good 20 min. of storm, then -- nothing. Dry. Blue sky with a few white clouds. Driving out a storm --- pretty exciting for the girls from California.

Lest you think that all I do is report on weather that is bowling over the newbies, there is also lots of philosophizing, recipes, fortune-telling, and travel tips headed your way. Just kidding.

In and out of storms, literally and figuratively. Here's the figurative part:
I do think we are now in the Storm of Transition from parents with children who live with us to parents of children who are off in the world, somewhere. And we have compounded this storm by moving to another place, another state, another world. Transition in Spades for the whole family. But of course this transition was destined, no matter where we lived or stayed. They grow up and they go away, and then you especially realize you're mortal because little people don't need you every minute. And it's not just the needing; it's also the wanting and loving and tolerating. Not to mention the bathing and transporting.
But I'm happy to ride out the current storm into the next dry spell. It's a ride we love & appreciate, no matter what.

Bataan

I thought of this topic because of the Bataan Memorial here in Santa Fe. Why here, you ask? Well, a large portion of the soldiers on that march (May 1942 -- more homework)were from a New Mexico National Guard division [200th Coast Artillery--
http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/agency/army/arng-nm.htm]

And Margarita and I have always had the Bataan Death March in mind whenever we think there is something unbearable in our path. Perspective dictates the mantra "It's not the Bataan Death March". Last August we were in Chicago taking Malcolm to his first year in college there, with the attendant sadness, nostalgia, pride, and worry. She and I took a walk over the river there on a handsome iron bridge, mulling over the emotions in all of us during that milestone 5 days in Chicago. It was one of our "not the Bataan Death March" discussions. Yes, it's wrenching to take your youngest to college and leave him in a strange city; contrary to all natural parental feelings. But there are also good, important aspects to such a transition, for all concerned. Hence, not the Bataan Death March. And, as we reached the opposite side of the river we read the bronze plaque naming this bridge(bronze plaques are so often worthwhile). I know you know the name of the bridge: The Bataan Memorial Bridge. Revelation & confirmation.