Signs of Life

Emerging from an intense work binge that has consumed my life for two months, I look around and wonder where I am. Physically I'm in Florida, after a three-day, marathon 1900 mile drive from Albuquerque to Port Charlotte. But the last few days my head has been in the Twilight Zone. This is largely due to lack of sleep and 80 hour work weeks since late April. "Ungrounded" doesn't begin to describe the depletion I'm experiencing.

Day One

It was fun traveling without human and canine companionship--just me and my CDs on the open road. The first day was probably the most interesting. I enjoyed the drive from New Mexico to Texas on I-40, eventually saying goodbye to tumbleweed and mesas that yielded to cattle ranches and grain silos.

East of Tucumcari I stopped to grab a smoothie out of the cooler and caught a glimpse of the Llano Estacado. Part of the High Plains, the Llano Estacado, or "palisaded plains," straddles New Mexico and Texas along the border. This large mesa occupies 37,500 square miles. As I haven't yet perfected the art of levitation, this aerial photo isn't mine, but it's probably better than anything I could have shot from the ground.


I noticed something odd in the distance as I approached Amarillo.


This strange site was just too compelling to ignore. At the next exit I doubled back to check out Cadillac Ranch, a unique work of art that sits on the sprawling ranch belonging to eccentric Stanley Marsh, 3. (He uses "3" because he feels "III" is "too pretentious.") Ten Cadillacs buried in the earth and heavily layered with graffiti decorate the horizon. Children and adults armed with spray paint and Magic Markers were gathered around these rusty relics to leave their marks. Discarded cans littered the ground and the air was heavy with paint fumes.




After a quick examination of the colorful display, I hurried back to the car to see what else Texas had in store for me. I didn't have to travel far.



But the strangest sight of all was the herd of camels grazing in lush grassland outside of Wichita Falls. That's right, dozens of camels staring at passing cars. Dromedaries. One hump.

To be continued...

Warning: Do Not Take Hallucinogens Before Watching

Lately, I feel a bit like the woman in this video, reshaping myself every few seconds to suit the needs of my clients, all of them having immediate, pressing needs. Like that old 60's song says, "Bend me, shape me, anyway you want me." Work has been impossible lately. I love my work, but after 15 or 16 consecutive hours of sitting at the computer, I'm ready for a break. I haven't taken a real weekend in a month. Meals have been missed, phone calls ignored, and friends forgotten. My entire universe has revolved around a 19 inch computer monitor these past few weeks. I'm ready for a vacation.

Ironically, it's that very ability to meet my clients' needs quickly that has opened many doors and helped me land new business, so I'm reluctant to change my ways in any significant fashion. Admittedly, though, some days are rough. Some tell me I'm not good with boundaries and don't know how to say "no." Others applaud my efforts to meet deadlines and commitments. I suspect there's a middle ground someplace in this vortex where I can be kind to myself and helpful to clients. In the present moment, however, that place eludes me. This shapeshifter is bone tired.

Enjoy the video. You will be hearing more from me in the coming days, when I hit the road, alone, for a very long drive to Florida to visit loved ones and stock up on raw orange blossom honey to bring back to New Mexico.

Friday's Widget

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Happy June, everyone! Thought for today: Live every day as if it's your last, because one day it will be.

A Song For Russ

Here's a little blast from the past...

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Another Day

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Last night's blog whine about my inability to sleep actually helped me settle into six hours of slumber. While it wasn't the best night's sleep I'd ever enjoyed, it seemed a more substantial chunk of rest than I'd expected. Everything's relative.

Murphy and Telly have been playing in the dirt for the past two mornings, appearing at the back door covered with thick dark mud. A few weeks ago I found a five foot wading pool for Murphy at the politically incorrect Wal-Mart. I relaxed my boycott long enough to purchase the pool, squeeze it into the back of the van, and rush home to fill it for my big guy. Murphy loves his pool, but I'm learning that it needs to be emptied nightly. Otherwise, he splashes in the water early in the morning, rolls in the dirt, and then wrestles with Telly. The result? Two dogs caked with dry, hard mud. Murphy is easy to hose off, but Telly thinks water comes from the ninth circle of Hell. Removing mud from Telly--a wiggler and perpetual motion machine--is a job for only the fearless.

The back yard resembles a mine field these days. Telly is a digger. Yesterday Murphy chewed a hole in the water line running from the backyard spigot to the rooftop swamp cooler. Caught up in other distractions, I didn't realize water was spraying all over the backyard. Telly made an effort to remedy the situation by digging up the yard so the water could collect in a large hole rather than flood the back yard. By the time I went outside to check on them, Her Majesty was proudly lying in a deep muddy hole, covered from head to paw, panting and smiling. It took half an hour to clean the dogs and dry them off.

This morning was a repeat of yesterday. Life is too short to spend all this time hosing off the dogs. Did I mention the pointy seed pods that embed themselves in the dogs' fur? We've so much wild growth in the back, it will take a chain saw to weed the yard. Rototilling may be our only remaining option. My fantasy of desert living didn't include weeds that grow two inches a day.

Last August, Mayor Chavez declared a "War On Weeds." The City of Albuquerque's weed gestapo regularly hands out citations for weeds exceeding four inches in height. Worse yet, the city's website provides a form encouraging citizens to file complaints and turn in recalcitrant neighbors who refuse to weed. Evidently "weeds" and "litter" are synonymous in Duke City. Personally, I find them noxious, especially goatheads. Last week, Joseph Crumb, a regular columnist for the Albuquerque Tribune, penned the following lines:

There are three things friends and relatives never mention when they talk about what a wonderful place New Mexico is to live: the wind, the ants and the goatheads. Consider the goathead: Few weeds can rival its perniciousness. Some goathead seeds, aka "stickies," have spines measuring a half centimeter or more, powerful enough to puncture bicycle tires. (link added)

Murphy and Telly present their paws daily for goathead removal. I know what it feels like. I've removed the barbed thorns from my own feet as well.

It's time to face another night. Everyone else in the house is sleeping soundly while I sit alone on the sofa--wakeful, restless, pensive.

Another day. Just breathe...

I'm So Tired

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Sleep eludes me these days. Most nights I'm lucky to get three or four hours. The dogs, on the other hand, sleep about 18 hours a day. I generally don't disturb their rest, even though they rarely return the favor. After 20 years of sleeping only a few hours a night, I'm beginning to accept it as "normal."

My materal grandmother slept only a few hours a night. She often listened to New York talk radio in the wee hours, and then called relatives way before dawn to let them know what they were missing. I was just a teenager at the time. Thankfully there was no phone in my bedroom.

They say that most Americans are sleep deprived. One wonders if the high rate of insomnia is directly proportional to the popularity of Starbucks and other "high energy" beverages. I, for one, do not drink coffee. Caffeine renders me completely ungrounded, so much so that I'm apt to levitate after only one cup.

Other than feeling ragged and dopey most of the time, the worst part of chronic insomnia is not having anyone to call in the middle of the night when I'm wide awake, except friends eight time zones to the East, and that's a pretty expensive call even at 3AM. It's lonely being the only one awake in the night. Even the dogs are reluctant to join me in my early morning peregrinations. Grandma never let that stop her from reaching out by land line to disrupt a loved one's rapid eye movements.

Will I sleep tonight? Is tonight the night I finally get some deep, restorative rest? The prospect of breaking the sleepless cycle fills me with anticipation. I feel like a pre-teen on the first day of school. Or will tonight be like all other nights of counting sheep and listening to Murphy snore next to me? Over the years I've tried just about everything, including acupuncture, acupressure, visualizations, reading, not reading, journaling, singing, laughing, watching TV, not watching TV, homeopathics, sleeping pills, massage, meditation, new pillows, valerian root, hops, catnip, kava kava, skullcap, lemon balm, passion flower, warm baths, hot milk, cold beer, turkey sandwiches, brandy, new mattresses, warm fuzzy movies, magnets, a glass of wine, aromatherapy, psychotherapy, melatonin, tryptophane, stuffed animals, vigorous exercise, yoga, prayer and positive thinking. Maybe I just love life too much to waste all that time sleeping. The fact is, I just don't want to miss anything. I need to be awake to hear those things that go bump in the night.

My eyelids are heavy. It must be time to extinguish the light and give it another shot. Am I the only insomniac? Your turn.

Sheila Takes A Vacation

A few days ago, my best buddy from college flew to Albuquerque from Newark (and boy, were her arms tired), to spend a few days with her old pal from Long Island. We spent three days traipsing around New Mexico. First and foremost, Sheila was in awe of Albuquerque's five volcanoes located on the West Mesa, and hoped they wouldn't spontaneously erupt in honor of her first visit to New Mexico. I assured her the possibility was remote.


I was delighted to show Sheila the Petroglyphs on Friday, after a brief tour of the West Mesa. It was a beautiful day and the sky was a brilliant blue. Sheila opted for the less strenuous trail, using inappropriate footwear as an excuse to take the easy path. Next time she visits I will have a new pair of Nike cross-trainers waiting for her arrival. She insists she doesn't "hike," but I reminded her that "hiking" is actually "walking."





Friday morning we spent some time in the Rio Grande Nature Center, where we saw several roadrunners, hummingbirds, turtles, geese, a grebe, and widgeons. It was National River Clean-up Day, and the Rio Grande was full of inflatable boats occupied by happy volunteers cheerfully bagging debris. It looked like a good time, and for a good cause.


Later that day, after a restorative nap (one of many), we wandered around Albuquerque's Old Town, stopping for a bite to eat at a charming outdoor bistro in the shadow of chile ristras decorating a balcony overhead.




Today we drove to Santa Fe and enjoyed brunch at the Tesuque Village Market. With our bellies full, and in spite of threatening skies, we took off to explore the hills of Tesuque.





By early afternoon we were checking out the sights, sounds and smells of the Plaza in Santa Fe.





Our meanderings took us to Canyon Road, not far from the Plaza and home to many fine art galleries. Santa Fe is the second largest art market in the United States.






No Southwest vacation would be complete without a Margarita. (Photo enhanced to protect the guilty.)

Tomorrow my friend returns to New Jersey. And just when we were starting to have some fun...

Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument

Located on the Pajarito Plateau, the Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument is less than an hour's drive from home. Cone-shaped "tent rock" formations that resemble teepees are the products of volcanic eruptions that occurred nearly seven million years ago, leaving deposits over 1,000 feet thick. Kasha-Katuwe means "white cliffs" in the traditional Keresan language of Cochiti Pueblo.

We opted for the less challenging of the two trails, the Cave Loop Trail, which wound through the canyon and gave us spectacular views of the rock formations. Murphy was delighted with his first desert hike, followed by a cooling swim in Cochiti Lake. We spotted piñon jays, a coyote, and colorful desert wildflowers along the trail.


At the apex of the trail, a small cave is visible, the product of erosion.


The cries of red-tailed hawks and coyotes echoed in the canyon as we hiked over hot sand. Murphy had his first encounter with a cactus, but survived the experience with the help of his human hiking companion, who gently removed several slender spikes from one of his paws.


In places the walls of the canyon are 200 feet high, but only a few feet wide.


After our hike we rehydrated and enjoyed a light lunch at a shaded picnic table before heading to Cochiti Lake, and then home to Albuquerque.

Desert Heat

As far back as I can remember, there's a period of adjustment when the weather turns sharply cold, and again when the sun produces sudden, surprising heat. Today brought an unexpected summer day in April, a perfect day to spend a little time in Old Town poking around galleries, enjoying the warm air. By late afternoon I realized it was time to go home and brew a pitcher of iced tea. It was HOT walking around Old Town, in part because of my jeans, heavy socks, sneakers, and extra layers. I'm not even sure where I stashed all my shorts.

The perfume from this tree was intoxicating. Hundreds of bees flew from blossom to cascading blossom, buzzing with delight.



Old Town is in full bloom.



These colorful mosaics decorated a clock tower and the wall bordering the lot where I parked the Caravan.



The garden within the walls around San Felipe de Neri Church is peaceful and inviting.


Though unplanned, I will spend some time this weekend packing away my winter wardrobe and unearthing hot weather duds. I'll swap turtlenecks for tanktops, corduroys for cottons, ski socks for sandals. I haven't done this, it seems, for years. Florida living requires just one wardrobe, with an extra sweatshirt always on hand for cool winter days.

More heat is on its way this weekend. I love the heat. It will be a good weekend. Get out the sunscreen!

A Walk Through the Nature Center

I've been having trouble writing lately. To my faithful blog readers who have sent me emails and called me on the phone expressing concern, yes, I'm OK. Just uninspired. I've had a bad case of writer's block. So for today, I offer you photos in lieu of my usual pithy essay. I'll be back soon. Don't give up on me yet.

The Rio Grande Nature Center is a mere five minutes from home. It's been weeks since I did anything "fun," so I decided to take the afternoon off, run a few necessary errands, and visit the Nature Center with my good friend of nearly 40 years, Russ, who's visiting from St. Louis. He's spent the better part of this week exploring the Sandias and Petroglyphs while I've tried to get a handle on my heavy work load. It felt good to take some time for myself today.

It was also refreshing to get away from the dogs for an hour this afternoon. While Murphy is a perfect middle-aged gentledog--easy to manage and a joy to walk, Telly is a toddler with exceptional energy and missing manners. Training is a continuous process and I often grow weary of having a puppy bouncing off the walls all day. Telly forces me to never let my guard down. If I do, she instantly challenges my position as pack leader. I love this little dog, but she wears me out. Next time I want another pet, remind me of the joys of keeping goldfish.

The Nature Center was peaceful and warm today. Many of the birds have begun their northward migration, so the walk was quieter than my last visit in November. Additionally, the riparian environment of the bosque is, I'm sure, more lively at dawn than mid-afternoon. The silence was broken by the unmistakable chatter of hummingbirds, telling me they've returned from their winter vacations in warmer climes. I'm eager to hang my hummingbird feeder from the tree on the other side of the dining room window.


The turtles and Canada Geese enjoyed the warm sun on the pond this beautiful spring day in Albuquerque. Even with a few ripples, the water reflected the image of this goose perfectly.



We walked to the Rio Grande and heard lots of things scurrying in the underbrush. A flowering tree caught our attention. I wish I knew what it was.


Russ looks good in his "roadkill hat." He sports a healthy desert glow these days, in spite of sunblock.

Vernal Break

SATURDAY. Large signboards in front of public schools in Albuquerque announce the Easter holiday with two words: "Vernal Break." This is a new one for me. In a city that's predominantly Christian, I'm not sure why the word "Easter" was pre-empted for the secular "Vernal."


According to the American Heritage Dictionary, "vernal" has Indo-European roots deriving from the word meaning "spring." Easter Sunday is the first Sunday after the full moon following the Vernal Equinox. No matter what your religious or spiritual tradition, there's no argument that this time of year is all about new beginnings, new growth and a fresh start.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the idea of starting over. In a sense, every moment is a point of empowerment where a fresh start is possible. Louise Hay tells us, "The point of power is in the present moment." This implies an incredible dynamism in our lives: there is virtually no end to unlimited newness with every breath we take. Yet for many on this planet, change is elusive. Familiar, comfortable old ways protect us from the pressures of a relentlessly-advancing technological society that fosters physical isolation in service of electronic communication. Are we really alone? My inner voice says no, we are all connected in spite of the illusion of separation. Humankind hungers deeply for understanding and renewal at many different levels.

Spring comes much earlier in Albuquerque than in the Northeast. Much of March was warm and breezy, but this morning snowflakes fell for several hours, reminding me again that I'm not in Florida anymore. It was cold and windy this morning, as a massive cold front moved through New Mexico. I trust (and pray) this was winter's last gasp.

Murphy and Telly don't care. They adapt to any temperature and don't seem to mind the wind and snow. Telly spends her days chasing little white moths that flit from weed to weed in the back yard. Murphy is content to lie in the sun and dream about swimming.

I've spent the last three days working on websites and setting up MySpace pages for myself and a client. I never quite understood the MySpace concept, but now that I'm up to my eyeballs in it, I'm fascinated and intrigued by this internet community. Nearly 170 million people have MySpace pages. The more I explore it, the more hooked I become. The world is much smaller online. The drawback is that it's very addictive.

There's a new kid in the blogosphere. It's called Twitter. This service caters to "microblogging" -- blogging (or writing) in 140 characters or less. It's done in real time, kind of like text messaging, and your message is sent to the entire Twitter community so everyone knows what you're doing at that moment. Microblog: "I'm eating a chocolate chip cookie. It's good." Microblog: "I'm sleepy. I think I'll take a nap." Are we so self-absorbed we think others need to know this stuff? Is it important that complete strangers know our bathroom habits? Has humankind regressed to age twelve? Some people have way too much time on their hands.

More distressing, however, is that this may be symptomatic of an alienated society whose members long for connection. Blackberries, emails and iPODS have taken the place of face-to-face interactions. We are becoming a nation of isolated strangers desperately seeking anonymous ways to reconnect. Have we forgotten how good it feels to look into someone's eyes and communicate without a keyboard?

In this moment of self-renewal, on the day before the "Vernal Holiday," I vow to never microblog. I promise to change my socks every day so my feet feel renewed. I will accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative. I will never feed my dogs Old Roy. And of course, I'll brush after every meal.

However, I will probably always be a nerd, so it's futile to try to change that aspect of my personality. I took a test today that confirmed my nerdiness.

Happy Easter, Happy Passover, and Happy Vernal Break to all. May you all rejoice in rebirth and renewal that Spring offers us every year.